Friday, 2 October 2009

The One Where I Don't Get Other Parents

So The Daughter started school three weeks ago and I had to mingle with Other Parents. When Sartre said hell is other people, he obviously had not met Other Parents otherwise he wouldn't have been so generic.

I'm not entirely sure what to do with them and what I consider to be their bizarre parenting actions. Allow me to explain.

On the first day, The Archaeologist and I did the dutiful parent thing and took The Daughter to school and went with her to her classroom. Once she'd found her peg and name to put on the wall, she waved us off cheerily and away we went, pushing through the throngs of wailing children and weeping parents.

On the second day, The Daughter politely informed me that I didn't need to go in with her as she knew where she was going and besides, she was a Big Girl now. Quite right too so again, cheery waving and away I went, pushing past wailing children and weeping parents.

On the third day, there were barely any wailing children yet still the Other Parents were taking their little darlings into the classroom, taking their coats off for them and generally fussing.

Three weeks later and they're STILL doing it. I'm at a loss to understand why. Do they have so little faith in their children's ability to perform simple tasks like taking off a coat??

But then you hear how they talk to The Little Darlings. It's all very nice and polite. All asking and no telling.

"Can you please not push that child over [insert horribly trendy middle class name like Alfie here]? It's not very nice is it?"

"Oh he's full of high spirits today!" as said high spirited child is running around screaming and generally being irritating.

There's no telling off, no discipline, blindness to the fact that their cosseted darling is behaving badly. But then here's the amazing thing - I'm asked how I get The Daughter to behave and do things for herself and eat all her food without fussing, like it's some kind of nuclear secret.

The thing is, there isn't a secret. I simply tell her what to do and she does it. If she doesn't then she knows she'll be in trouble. She eats all her food because she knows if she doesn't there's nothing else until the next meal. I know parents who've made up to six different meals in order to get their child to eat what amounts to a full one. Surely this is lunacy? Why teach them that they can have whatever whim they decide on? Why teach them that they're the ones who can call the shots?

I don't know whether it's because the Other Parents are older (or seem it at least) than me. I don't know whether it's because they've read every 'parenting manual' (dear Jeebus, don't get me started on those...) ever published and their heads are filled with so much conflicting information that they have lost all capability of thinking for themselves.

What I do know though is that for all intents and purposes, how they parent is none of my business and they've probably had the same thoughts about me. I just hope they don't ask me for any more advice!

Sunday, 20 September 2009

The One Where Overhearing Made Me Laugh

Oh dear girls of the world. If you all think how these two unfortunates do in the following conversation I overheard between two girls working in H&M the other day, then I weep for you and the future of mankind.

No, really. People this stupid or, more kindly I suppose, naive will bring about the apocalypse.

Girl #1: So really, when he's not talking to you or like texting you or y'know, he's not ignoring you. He's really just like really thinking about what he wants to say to you.

Girl #2: Really?

Girl #1: Yeah. It's like he doesn't want to say the wrong thing so he's like really taking the time to think about it before. Men do that.

I couldn't hear any more of this fascinating exposé on the inner workings of men's minds for laughing too hard and then being glared at by these poor creatures.

They'll learn. We all do at some point hopefully.

Thursday, 10 September 2009

The One Where Everything Seems To Be Coming Together

I'm bringing this missive to you, dear reader, from the comfort of a bed on a gloriously sunny, if crisply chilled, September day. I am positively revelling in my unemployed status so long as my bank account affords my this luxury.

Also, I've found a builder who understands that simple jobs don't take that long to do and that I may be back in my own house before Christmas.

And The Daughter has started school with no problems whatsoever.

And two of my lovely friends got married.

And I got my shiny new laptop.

And some new shoes.

Life, at the moment, is pretty alright actually.

Wednesday, 12 August 2009

The One Where It's My Birthday And I'll Cry If I Want To But I Don't Think I Will, Thanks All The Same

Dear reader, today you find me one year older and having to remember to say 28 when people ask me my age.
You wouldn't think that being asked my age happens a lot but somehow to me, it does. Maybe it's because I don't feel 28. I certainly don't act 28 a lot of the time and (though I do say so myself) I don't particularly look 28.
You also find me ruminating on my life's work - my accomplishments and my failures. I think it's important, especially when things don't seem to be going all that well, to have a good think about all the good things you've achieved and to work out where you went wrong on the things that didn't turn out quite so well. My life at 28 is certainly a lot different to how I imagined it would be when I was 18 but that doesn't make it worse or better than what I thought it'd be. At the same time though, it's important to keep hold of dreams and aspirations and understand that over time they will change and you will fulfill some and dash others.
And so, with all that naval-gazing out the way, I'm off for a posh meal in the country with The Hairy Drummer, who has got me a surprise present. I haven't told him I tend to be disappointed with surprise presents but I'm sure it will be made of win and awesome.

Tuesday, 11 August 2009

The One Where July Was Actually The Worst Month Ever.

July officially sucked monkey ass. There is no sugar coating of this. It is an undeniable fact.
Not content with my house burning down and my grandad being in hospital with inoperable cancer, the very last day of July threw another round of fun and games into the mix by me being made redundant. Oh and possibly losing another job due to the idiocy of the local council believing an arts university needs a swimming pool.
Yep. July really sucked.
So what happened then? Well, as we know, I had the inconvenience of the house fire which in itself spawned a whole other world of meh. I'd had my work laptop at home and that melted and my amazing IT department took 3 weeks to send me a new one. Except they'd configured it incorrectly. So it took another week for the only IT guy who knows what he's doing to have a free slot to come and fix it.
So this also meant I was a month without proper (by proper, I mean speedy and preferably non IE) access to the internet which was, quite frankly, like having a limb lopped off. So Never Enough Shoes went on forced hiatus and I let down the Domestic Sluts by failing to contribute anything as everytime I tried, the ancient dsktop I was working from seized up and refused to exert itself any further.
Never mind, I thought, The Daughter starts school in September so I can look forward to reduced hours in the office and more time with her.
No, no. The luxury of being able to take her and pick her up is not for me. Here you go, NES, here's a letter telling you that you're pretty much redundant! Oh and by the way, your boss doesn't know yet!
Le sigh.
But, every cloud does have a silver lining and sometimes a rainbow. I've calculated that I should get a fairly decent pay off which will afford me a bit of time off which will be most needed. And it finally means that I can look at getting a proper (by which I mean something useful that I'll enjoy) job without the safety net to hold me back.
As Chandler from Friends said, soemtimes you need The Fear. I have it but I'm not scared.

Friday, 10 July 2009

The One With The House Fire....

Ha! You have to love the timing. I started this blog to document the trivial minutiae of life that gets in the way of the good stuff and then I only went and had a Dramatic Event!
As you have gathered from the title (because you have the smarts), my house caught fire. Well I say house, my lounge got the brunt of it and the fantasticness of the fire brigade meant the rest is fairly ok apart from being a lot blacker and smellier than before.
The day started off as any other - being rudely awakened by the cats and birds fighting in the big tree at the bottom of the garden. And so began another day of getting up, getting washed and dressed, bundling The Daughter off to nursery and heading off to work.
Except while The Daughter was busy watching CBeebies while I was in the shower, the random socket that I didn't use decided to spark and start a fire.
Holy Crap.
The Daughter quite sensibly ran to the bathroom but didn't tell me what was happening, oonly crying the cry she does when she knows she's done something naughty. So I blithely finished my shower and got out to go and start her breakfast.
Except the kitchen was full of smoke. As was the dining room. As was the lounge but with the added extra of Actual Big Flames.
Crank up to OH MY GOD! HOLY FREAKING SHIT! level.
What happened next was a bit of a blur but I managed to wake The Hairy Drummer and get us all out the back door. By this time, I'm pretty sure I was screaming as the neighbours two doors down had run out to their garden and phoned the fire brigade.
It was then The Hairy Drummer realised I was actual nekkid. Oh dear. Thankfully my modesty was preserved by a random blanket that's been in the garden for ages and isn't the nicest thing ever but you take what you can get at times like these.
So, in a blur of fire engines and the windows blowing out from the heat (and possibly the explosions of my hairsprays...), my house suddenly became uninhabitable. Whatever had been in the lounge was gone and everything else coated in the pungent stench of smoke and soot.
It's times like these that you get all zen and understand that everything can be replaced. That the most important thing is that we all got out safe. That firemen will look at you strangely when you're finally allowed back in and run to find your favourite pair of shoes and cry when you discover they're safe. That vintage snare drums are apparently indestructible. That cats will come back to find you after they've got the hell out first. That your neighbours are kinder than you could ever think. That skanky local reporters will try to sensationalise nothing until they realise they're dealing with a fellow trained journalist. That you can be the most organised you've ever been simply because you have to.
So there we have it. A hella lot of drama for one day which will provide a bit of an inconvenience for the next few months but will also settle into the banal normality that is everyday life.
Blogging about nothing doesn't get any more dramatic than this!

Wednesday, 8 July 2009

The One Where I Tell You Who Everyone Is

So there's some fairly important people that I have in my life. And then just people. If you believed Facebook to be representative, then there is 215 people. Obviously, this is a mistruth. The following are the ones who will be most involved over the coming days, weeks, months, infinity.

The Daughter
Unsurprisingly, she is the most important one. The Daughter is 4 years old and is about to start school in September. She likes pirates and ninjas but pirates most of all at the moment and is not averse to dressing like a pirate princess. She is very funny, very clumsy and possibly too cute.

The Hairy Drummer
He is hairy and a drummer and also has the pleasure of being my boyfriend. I hate that word - boyfriend - but that is him. He's sarcastic and grumpy and all kinds of wonderful.
The Archeologist
This is The Daughter's father. He's a super fantastic father. He likes old things and vinyl. We are just polar opposites in terms of being together which is why we're not.
Ma Mere
Ah, my mother. She's generally a small ball of activity and will NEVER let me read Style before she has. I do grow more like her everyday which is possibly worrying for all involved.
The Tanquery Grump
The Tanquery Grump runs the pub where I work a few evenings a week. He hates customers but loves gin. And The Cult. Dear god, does he love The Cult....
The Twitteratti
That's a ridiculous term isn't it but it fits. If I ever have to mention someone off of that there Twitter then I will do so by their Twitter nom de plume. Chances are you know most of them anyway or you are one.
The Ninja And The Bass Viking
The other componants to The Hairy Drummer's band. They're actually not all that bad despite their ridiculous name.
There'll be others no doubt but they'll be introduced as and when.

What? She's Doing ANOTHER Blog?!?

As you may (or may not!) know, I'm known for hanging around the internets over at Never Enough Shoes. And you may (or may not!) know that lately I've been a bit MIA. No, not making paper planes but simply being bogged down in the detritus of Actual Real Life.

Le sigh.

So, because I obviously have too much to do, I've decided to give myself yet another blog. Only this one is a bit more personal - slightly less shoes but more about the general insanity that comes from being stuck in the weirdness that is Getting On With Day To Day Living.

There's going to be regular people I'll be talking about who I'll introduce in another post. They range from the most important people in my life to the ones who annoy me to the ones who make me laugh.

I'm also potentially embarking on some exciting quests this year which writing about will make all the more fun and exciting.

Stick with me if you can be bothered. If you do, I might bake you some cakes!

NES xxx