Monday, October 27, 2008

Warts an' All

I had an interesting chat with Jaimee last week.  We were sitting at the table colouring-in together and she kept saying "pardon me" as she passed wind.  Nice manners you say?  Yes, that's what I thought and I told her as much.  She continued popping away and pardoning herself each time and eventually I suggested perhaps she needed to go and use the toilet.  Nope, she assured me she didn't need to go.  (I later found out she'd 'stolen' a bunch of grapes out of her father's work van and scoffed the lot, go figure.)

We carried on colouring, switching pencils, turning pages to a 'better' picture (just when I'm finally getting into the one she'd first chosen...I may never reach my full colouring-in potential because of this kid.) 

Jaimee:  "I never say 'pardon me' at Kindy"
Me:  "Oh?  Why's that?"
Jaimee: "Because then they'd know I did it."
Me:  "But surely your friends at Kindy fart too."
Jaimee:  "Yes, but I don't want them to know I do.  And if I'm really quiet, they don't hear it, and I don't have to say pardon me."
Me:  "So, when your friends fart, what do you do?"
Jaimee:  "I laugh at them"
Me:  "I see.  So how come you're allowed to laugh at them, but they're not allowed to laugh at you?"
Jaimee:  "Because I don't like it."

Simple as that.  We're talking about a 4 year old here.  How young do the children need to be before they're taking into consideration their image in society?  Noone enjoys being laughed at I guess and regardless of the fact that everyone farts at some stage during their day (some more than others), can you actually remember how old you were when you began worrying about other people 'catching you out'?  When did kids this age start to be concerned about what other people thought of them?

Passing wind is natural...what happens if we don't do it?  I'm sure there's some kinda long-winded (haha) medical term for it...whatever it is, I bet it's painful.  The word fart itself is me that is...we were never allowed say it when I was younger.  My mother said we were 'blowing off'...her best friend who lived next door called it "fluffing".  There are quite a variety of words and doubt you've all got your own. 

Depending on what you've been eating, sometimes it just can't be helped. Foods that'll give you gas (the internationally acclaimed baked beans immediately springs to mind), can't be indefinitely crossed of your shopping list can they?  That could mean half the contents of my pantry getting binned.

God, I got sidetracked...just for a change, haha.  Back to these airy bodily functions and others' reactions to them.  I will confess that I'd rather end up doubled over in pain than fart in front of particular people.  Make that any people.  Except my kids...they're supposed to love me unconditionally, I'm their mother.  And even for them I try to keep it to a minimum.  Besides if you can't relax and let rip in your own home, where the hell else can you?  (I even farted against Cameron one time....he was clowning around with me and being deliberately obnoxious...I warned him first...he didn't believe me.  I've never done it again but now anytime he starts getting all righteous I only need turn my bum towards him and he jumps, haha).

And men....what is it with men and farting?  They all seem to think it's bloody hilarious!  The louder and smellier the better.  They even have competitions for God sake.  Great noises trumpeting out of their arses...what could be more unappealing??  As far as I'm aware, a man's virility and attractivness is not dependant on his arse talking (although many can be quite talented at talking out of their arses lol).  It's disgusting I tell ya!

It bothers me that a child as young as Jaimee is already feeling the restriction of social boundaries. But what doesn't bother me, is she obviously feels comfortable and relaxed enough around me to let down her guard and be her true self. I love that.  To me that means I must be one of the people in her life that she trusts to accept her the way she is.  Knowing that, despite the close proximity of her constantly popping away in my presence, warms me to the core.

So! those that read me.....*squirms around in chair*...oh ok, here we go......


Uh...*blush*...that's just to say thank you for continuing to read me, and more importantly, for accepting me for who I am too.  

Oh, come on....give's a kiss....See? you don't want to now do you??
Thursday, October 23, 2008

This and That

I dropped Ryan off at the airport this afternoon.  He's now in Auckland for the weekend and more, coming home Tuesday night.  Whilst Auckland is not the capital of New Zealand, it is the biggest city, and I can't help but feel apprehensive about him getting lost or harmed while he's up there.  I know he's going to be fine, he's good at using his initiative, and as long as he doesn't lose his cellphone again, I'll be able to hound him with phone calls if I feel the need. (I'm going to try really hard not to harrass him...if I do, I  know the kinda response I'll get.)

Today work was so busy the hours flew by.  Unfortunately the patients were grumpy and impatient, which only makes for a frustrating and fraught time for all that have to deal with them.  Isn't it funny how you can have several lovely people make your day seem brighter, yet one lousy grump can instantly smother that sun for the rest of the day?  Doesn't seem logical really, but it happens sometimes...I guess that can have more to do with our attitude and how we're feeling on that given day just as much as theirs.

After my stinky morning shift, and then releasing my youngest into the wild for 5 days, I topped my day off with a cervical know, just because I didn't feel I'd had enough to deal with in one day.  Apparently my vijayjay is looking pretty fabulous, all is as it should be.  The nurse asked me if I'd ever seen a cervix before (I mean really...when on earth would I have had the chance to do that??  My body has some flexibility but christ it ain't that good.)  Anyway she goes on to describe it.  Did you know that it looks just like the tip of a penis?  True story!  It has the same err consistency as your nose apparently. Right, nuff of that.  I'm happy that's one thing I can cross off my "shoulda done it ages ago and finally got round to" list.  Tis a lengthy one *sigh*

While Ryan's away I've been thinking about painting his bedroom.  It needs it so badly.  This painting thought only came to me about 2 hours ago.  When I voiced it to Cameron he said "Eh?  But my bedroom needs it more than his does!"  I suggested that he sleep in Ryan's room for the next few days, we clear out his room, and paint that instead.  He seemed happy with that but came up with several reasons about why he may not be able to help due to his next exam being on Tuesday. (I figure, that if I/we - ok, more likely, I - work fast enough, I may even be able to get both done over the next few days.)

Sometimes (in fact lots of times), I don't like voicing these kinds of thoughts of mine....if I actually say them out loud and don't follow through, then I feel tremendously disappointed with myself.  So, let's pretend I didn't mention the painting thing at all and if I do paint this weekend, it'll be a lovely surprise, and I'll shout you all scones and cups of tea to celebrate k?  Course, tomorrow morning I could wake up and decide it was a completely ludicrous idea, haha.
Sunday, October 12, 2008

Just Because...

Cameron: "So...why are you going back down to Christchurch tonight?"

Me: "Well, it goes something like this. I've got this week off work'll be at Uni most of the time, Ryan is working full time the next few days.

Cameron:  "So?"

Me: "Fi is working, Anne is working, Jaimee isn't back from Aussie yet."

Cameron: "And?"

Me: "Well...who's gonna play with me??!"

Cameron: "Oh."

Me: "See, Dan's my boyfriend, he HAS to play with me, it's part of the rules."

Cameron: *quietly* "Poor Dan."

Saturday, October 11, 2008

Afterall, Tomorrow is Another Day...

Earlier this year as we were saying goodbye yet again at the airport, I remember saying to Dan, "This will get easier won't it? We'll probably get quite blaise about all this goodbye-ing and flying up and down the country I guess"

Or something to that affect. Anyway, the point of me telling you that is, I was wrong (yeah yeah, print it out if you feel the need). I'm still waiting for the 'easy' part to happen. In fact, it appears to be getting harder and harder each time. I loathe this part of our relationship. I start winding myself up for it a couple of days before departure, which does nothing to improve my mood and thus probably makes him sigh with relief as he's waving me off at the airport.

I came home on Thursday night. Friday morning dawns and I think to myself "I can do this, I don't need him here...I've all sorts of things I can and WILL do." I lay in bed running through a list of things that need to be sorted...I still have a week off work, and I deliberately took this extra time to organise things around the house.

Then I sink slowly into a wavering depression and don't do anything. Oh, actually, that's not true. I sat on the sofa and watched TV, I hung out with the boys and listened to them tell me about their week...and I ate.

I ate a bowl of porridge for brekky...with cream...yes, I know. It's get better. I ate 3...that's three bagels, smeared with cream cheese (full fat of course), and smoked salmon. I chowed my way through half a large bag of chippies, and polished that off with 2 chocolate Tim Tam biscuits...which incidentally were filled with pink strawberry flavoured goop, to acknowledge Breast Cancer Awareness month. I think that means there's zero calories or something.

Around 5pm I decided I should probably lie down for a rest and read my book. It's not like I was going to get all energetic and leap about in a frenzy after stuffing that lot into my gob is it? So I lay down hoping the boys weren't hungry for dinner yet and thought, it's only an hour, they'll cope. I fell asleep...and dragged myself awake at 9.15pm. 9.15!!

This is all part of my cunning plan for them to learn how to fend for themselves. I have to say they are rather good at never going hungry...they do a passable job of feeding their faces...I just wish they'd bloody clean up the kitchen when they're done.
Friday, October 03, 2008

For He's a Jolly Good Fellow....

It's Dans birthday today, hence me flying down last night. So far this year the habit seems to have been that we're either flying up or down the country in the middle of each month.  But a birthday warrants an earlier visit in my here I am! This of course will likely mean, I shall be spending the day carrying out his every wish and command...I am, if nothing else, here to ensure love, laughter, and fulfillment of his every possible need/want. Once these 24 hours are up, I will be forcing allowing him to reciprocate his gratitude on every level imaginable. Yes indeedy, I shall certainly permit that...I'm that generous...honestly, I was born that way, tis a gift.

Last Monday afternoon, when I picked Jaimee up from daycare, we talked about her drawing a picture for Dan for his birthday. Lots of colours, flowers, stars, the occasional disjointed know the type, no necks, triangle bodies for girls (that'd be dresses of course), hair that looks like it only grows from the sides of your head, etc...pretty much typical for a 4 year old I would think.   She set to work with enthusiasm and great concentration.

The pregnant cat(?!) was a bit of a surprise, and while she beamed at me waiting for a response, I had no choice but to heartily praise it's beauty and gush how clever she was.

In a totally biased way of course, I think she's pretty switched on when it comes to her letters.  After writing "To Dan" she asked me "How does Happy Birthday go?"  I spelled it out, and she wrote each letter in a different colour. Cute. In amongst the rest of the pictures, wherever she thought they would fit, she wrote her name, mine, and his again.

Jaimee: "Oh, wait."
*draws the number 4 next to her name*
Jaimee: "How many are you?"
Me: "Er, forty-three"
*draws the number 43 alongside my name*
Jaimee: "How many is Dan?"
Me: "Dan will be 49 on Friday"

She wrote the number 49 under his name, and looked at it for a couple of seconds giving it some thought. Turning to me, her eyes as large as saucers, she said:

"Oh my gosh....that is so many!

Happy Birthday SugarLips *smooch*