5 posts tagged “family”

(Let me just preface my rant by saying "Damn!  It's been a long time since I've posted anything here!"  There have been several reasons for this which I will not bore you with at this time...)

Anyway, as I was saying, this is an issue for me.  People dropping by without calling.  Partly because it's not something I personally feel comfortable doing, and partly because I am not the sort of person who keeps a company-ready house.  Also partly because very often I am just not company-ready myself.

Take, for example, this morning. 

Now, admittedly I knew my father-in-law and step-mother-in-law were in town because they had already dropped in on us randomly the other day when my partner and I, most unfortunately, were playing who-can-withstand-the-urge-to-sweep-longest - I couldn't stand it any more and went out to return the dvds and when I got home there they were. Meanwhile, partner had not yet succumbed to the sweeping urge.  And I am aware of their bizarre knack for dropping by at the very worst moments.  Once - pre-kids - when the place was an absolute sh!tfight for no real reason (as I now, in my post-kids wisdom, realise) and I had chosen, instead of cleaning, to go shopping all day, had crazy-sore feet at the end of it and was sitting in the loungeroom soaking my feet in a bucket of salts to relieve them and generally looking completely glamorous, and they dropped by. 

Might I just add that FIL and SMIL dropping by takes quite some doing given that they actually live 10 hours away, and 6 months ago lived 15 hours away.  And have I mentioned that when the drop by they very often present us with completely random things? - the last time they were here they brought a garbage bag full of towels and sheets they no longer wanted.  But I digress.

Clearly I had allowed myself to be lulled into a false sense of security by the fact that they knew we had all been sick all week (with a stomach bug - bleh) and in any case they were coming for dinner tonight.

I was looking forward to a lovely relaxing morning today when partner told me last night he would take the boys to school as he had a late meeting at the other office.  I even had a little sleep-in whilst partner attended to breakfast etc.  After waving them all off, I threw off my lovely fluffy purple dressing gown and played with the baby for a little while.  She wasn't really tired yet and I had a bit of tidying up to do in preparation for the arrival of FIL and SMIL tonight (like I said - I don't have a company-ready house), so I decided to be a bad mother and put "The Night Garden" or whatever that faux-Tellytubby show is called on for her, because she's seen it once or twice and finds it quite exciting.  I figured I'd get to and do a bit of cleaning till she got bored and then have my shower when the baby had her nap.

So I'm swanning around in my raggedy flannelette pj pants, raggedy purple tshirt, no bra, hair unbrushed, have not even brushed my teeth.  I have piled the chairs and random crap all over the dining table so I can sweep and mop.  The laundry is stuffed to overflowing owing to the inclement weather of late.  The boys room looks like the lego demons have been.  I haven't made it anywhere near the bathroom.  There is a knock at the door.  For a split second, I considered not opening it, owing to the unsuitability of my appearance for public consumption, but then it struck me that it could be an emergency, or, like, someone wanting me to move my car in which case I was fully prepared to tell them to ... go away.  In my folly, however, I opened it and there are no prizes for guessing who it was.

And they weren't unaccompanied, as they came lugging in a couple of white vinyl and chrome bar stools that looked ideal for someone's shag pad, which they thought we could use.  Unfortunately, however, I had to point out that my house is literally packed to the rafters with furniture already, and we don't have anywhere to store them until such a time as we move to a bigger house and the boys convert the rumpus room/teenage escape to a shag pad of their own.

But I was horrified, for many reasons.  After all - who turns up at 9.05 am?  And the whole time they were here I was totally self-conscious of my boobs hanging around in all their unrestrained glory, but not in a good way.  I soon deemed it wise to pick up my daughter and hold her close to me for the entirety of their stay.

I ventured to point out to them that I am not normally to be found lazing around in my pyjamas at 9 am (except for the weekends when I generally am still to be found in pjs until around 11, and I don't do housework then either).  FIL attempted to put me at ease by telling me how SMIL used to wake and do all her housework naked in the olden days, which, of course, provided me with mental images I would rather do without.

To cut a long story short, I was glad when they left.

Nablopomo

We've just spent a v ery lazy weekend doing nothing much at all, which is a bit of a change for us and therefore enjoyable.

Following being mulleted yesterday morning (well, I was anyway), we headed off for a family picnic in a nearby "Heritage Park".  After walking up an enormous hill we ate bread and cheese and dips and fruit and then we played on the equipment, the main feature of which was one of those newish round-about things built on a slope that rely on gravity and fat people for momentum.  As the resident fat person, I duly rode with the boys on it for about a half hour before retiring due to queasiness.  The baby played in the sandpit (which was searched for cat poo prior) and crawled to her little heart's content.

The boys had brought their blade scooters and eldest son didn't want to bother with his on the walk back to the car, so I got to ride down the hill on it, which I must admit was the highlight of the weekend.  I haven't done anything like that for a good 25 years.

Went for afternoon tea at a nearby cafe and yesterday evening watched the first Harry Potter movie which happened to be on telly.

This morning was my turn to get up early with the kids (we take it in turns on the weekends) and today was our designated Cholesterol Day and so it was bacon and eggs for brekky.  Did nothing for the rest of the day until this afternoon rendered it necessary to go to the supermarket for food.  Boys came with me, wanting to spend their pocket money, and we pottered around Kmart for a while.  I bought 2 dvds - the Goodies and the second season of Vicar of Dibley.

Managed to finish listening to my online module for the writing course I'm doing and submitted my first piece - which was only one paragraph, so quite easy to achieve. 

Also managed to work on some arrangements for songs and get the bones of some parts in, so happy with that.

All in all, a successful weekend, I think.

A month or so ago I was relating the story of my 5-year-old's cheating habits at kindergarten.  While that seems to have now passed, it seems he has become rather accomplished at telling whoppers.

Yesterday while the boys were getting ready for their weekly swimming lesson, I happened to walk into the room as the 5yo was shedding his school clothes and I just happened to notice that he wasn't wearing any underpants.  The following conversation ensued:

Me:  Where are your undies?
Him:  I'm not wearing any!
Me:  I can see that - did you wear undies to school today?
Him (emphatically):  Yeeesss!
Me:  Well, where are they now?
Him:  (with very amused expression)  I flushed them down the toilet.
Me:  You what?
Him:  I flushed them down the toilet!
Me:  (having visions of roto-rooters dredging up undies and god knows what else from my pipes)  Why did you do that?
Him:  I had balanced them on the edge of the toilet and they fell in so I just flushed them.
Me:  And what happened?
Him:  (still highly amused)  They flushed away!

I go into the bathroom to check whether the toilet is now overflowing.  It is not and all looks clear.  At this point I become suspicious.

Me:  Did you really flush your undies?
Him:  (laughing)  No!  I tricked you!
Me:  (feeling relieved as the spectre of plumbers crack and my backyard flooded with shit recedes)  Then where are your undies?
Him:  I took them off at school today.
Me:  Did you have an accident?
Him:  Yes, and I couldn't find the bag with my spare undies in it. (I packed a bag of spare undies on his first day of school)
Me:  Ok then.  Bring me the wet undies so I can wash them.

He brings them to me and they appear to be suspiciously unworn.  I look at his face and it is all innocence, but I'm not buying it.

Me:  You didn't wear these, did you?
Him:  (laughing uproariously)  No!  I tricked you again!  I didn't wear my undies to school today!
Me:  Why not?
Him:  (shrugging and with big grin) I just didn't feel like it.

I think a serious discussion on why we shouldn't tell lies is in order at some point in the very near future.  Not that he lies all the time (well, except at school when he insisted that we spoke Indian at home), but I don't want him to become a habitual liar. 

Ah well - they say everyone has a talent and I think I've discovered his.  Maybe I should broach the subject of drama lessons with him ...

This past weekend saw my family celebrating my mother's 70th birthday.

A very momentous occasion indeed!  We had a gathering of the children (and as many of their offspring as we could muster) at my place on Saturday evening.  It was the first time in years that all 8 of us were in the one place at the one time, so momentous for that reason as well - I think the last time was for my younger sister's 21st birthday nearly 12 years ago now.

I would not describe my family as "close".  Some of us see each other regularly and others only see one another when there is some kind of gathering or other and we rarely phone.  I'm not sure why but we've all drifted apart as we've grown older.  So it was wonderful for us all to be together again and reminisce and tell stories that we've all heard so many times that we all know every word off-by-heart and still laugh uproariously at the punch-line.  At one point I was actually outside in my backyard whilst the storytelling was taking place and couldn't actually hear, but I could tell from the laughter and from whom was interjecting exactly which tale of childhood was being related.

My elder sisters travelled 10 hours to be here and stayed at my house for the whole weekend.  I was quite nervous at the prospect initially but we spent a very companionable weekend talking and gossiping and giggling over numerous cups of tea and biccies.  I was struck anew at how warm, wonderful and smart they both are (as is my younger sister, who lives here in Sydney and whom I see quite regularly), and amazed at how easy our relationship was, considering the distance and strain it has been under in recent years.  It was good to be able to confide and complain without fear of judgment, and know that they still love me for all my faults and foibles.

When I woke yesterday morning they had already left on the trip back home.  They left without saying goodbye because I was fast asleep and they knew that sleep is a fairly precious commodity to me at the moment.  But I felt really quite bereft for a little while and realised how much I really, really missed them.

Which led me to thinking of the rest of the family, and realising how much I miss them, too.  Despite our differences of opinions and lifestyles these days, we are still always on the same wavelength.  But I think it's the relationship with my sisters that I miss the most.  As I said, I see my younger sister regularly, and in recent years we have kind of formed our own little "sub-family", but I think it's time that someone made an effort to draw everyone back together again and it might as well be me.  Is it too late for New Year's Resolutions?

And now I've just remembered that 2011 is the year in which I turn 40 and my older sisters turn 50 (they are 11 months apart).  A few years ago we had all decided that we would take a luxury holiday together in honour of that.  I think I'll remind them of that and start up my holiday fund!

However, not unusually, I have nothing interesting to talk about.  Must do something about that one of these days.  I'm not sure if the problem is that my life really is so outstandingly boring, or if I'm just particularly unobservant.

The baby is growing.  She is a talkative little thing, and spends a good part of her waking hours (which is a lot as she doesn't sleep much during the day) babbling away.  She makes a lot of sounds that actually sound like words, which can be a little disconcerting.  She was in bed the other day and suddenly I heard what sounded like a small child somewhere in the house talking away in another language and it freaked me the hell out until I realised it was her.  On the other hand, she seems to have inherited her mother's lazy inclinations and hasn't bothered with any of this rolling crap as yet.  If I try to encourage her to roll by artfully placing a toy out of her reach on the floor, she just looks at me as if to say, "I don't even like that toy anyway."

The 4-year-old is going through a consumerist streak.  Everything he sees he wants, and he takes great pleasure in poring over any toy or department store catalogues we receive to find new and interesting things I need to buy him.  As a result, I'm introducing pocket money and he can start saving up his own money to buy all these essential things.  Not really sure what the going rate is for 4-year-olds, though - may have to flesh this out over the next few weeks.

The 7-year-old seems to be going through premature adolescence.  I always thought with boys that you were right until they hit about 12 and then they basically curdled overnight and your life was hell until they moved out of home in their late teens, but 7-year-old does a pretty good job of being obnoxious already on some days.  He's nice to everyone else, thankfully.  The special moments are reserved for immediate family.

Hmm ... all very mundane, really, but something is better than nothing, I guess.  And now I must go and plant out the strawberry plants I bought on the weekend before they go the way of most plants I buy - namely coming to an unfortunate, water-deprived end on the back deck as I stroll nonchalantly past several times a day.