Zen mummy turns psycho

I have a black eye and it is developing quickly. It changes colour and size every few hours, fascinating.
The fatal blow was delivered via the inverse headbutt. If you have spent anytime around children , you’ll know what I mean. For those who don’t know, it goes like this: Adult stands over child or holds a toddler , who is in tantrum mode. Then child child jumps up or jolts back , flipping head southwards to strike a killer blow. They know what they are doing, tis no accident. They want to inflict pain and maybe see some blood.

My black eye is the result of my eldest son leaping to his feet , crack KO!
The context ....
I have had a few epiphanies recently regarding parenting. Basically I am trying , very hard to : listen more, say maybe instead of NO, negotiate, compromise, be more understanding and use an elaborate language code .Nope I didn’t do this before, well not much . It was my way or the high way, rush –rush, shhh shhhh, not now later, stop that or else. I have always felt like I oil the cogs of this family. Would there be a bedtime time routine and swimming club id it weren’t for me? Well there’d be no one to take them but hey I couldn’t afford to pay, which is where daddy comes in. Anyway the new chilled tolerant and zen like mummy that I have become, was negotiating with Teia . I wanted him to start homework. First I let him watch the end of Scooby Doo, then I agreed to have a pre homework game of chess. Teia procrastinated , then finally he walked butler fashion to the HW table to set up the board. En route he dropped all the pieces and duly blamed me. He shouted ‘ why don’t you pick them up, I do everything.’ Staying calm, I took a deep breath and replied ‘I pick up after you all the time, if you drop something, you pick it up, that’s how it goes.’
Mantra ....Zen.... Zen..... zen .... Meditation... intuition... Calm.....fluffy white clouds... bunnies....don't hurt him, for he knows not what he is saying.
I stood over him while he picked them up . Then suddenly he leapt to his feet. At that point I was transported to a place called anger and pain. Automatically I began to attack an inanimate object. The door to the sitting room was the closest thing. I grabbed it then slammed it and whacked it against the sofa. I saw paint fly off as I karate chopped it. The weird thing is that I seemed to stop after 4 digs, then started again till I reached 6. The pause was comedic, it was like someone was walking me away saying ‘ don’t do it, the door ain’t worth it.’ instead of listing to my invisible friend I went back to finish the job ... Yeh baby I am a bad ass mo fo. No door is gonna get the better of me.

I returned to Zen mummy after a 5 min psychotic episode. Thank the lord, I was able to fight the desire to bang on for a further 3 hours. Looking back , I was prepared for bad behaviour, moaning and a contrary attitude. However ABH had been omitted from the list. Now it most definitely at the top.

H is for Hayes

Today I met a fellow dog walker who has lived in Hayes for 56 years. Betty said ‘ people don’t leave Hayes, they move around but they stay in the area,everyone's happy in Hayes.’ Ironic as although I was enjoying the scenic spoils of Hayes , I was not happy but that’s another story. Funny I thought that lots of places beginning with H are salubrious and possibly where lots of the inhabitants are happy . Like where? I here you ask, well you’ve got Henly, Harrogate, Herfordshire, Hampstead,Hamptons, Hollywood need I list more. My dad has an opposing opinion,he reckons he couldn’t live here. He needs hustle bustle, dirt grime, ethnic markets and cultural diversity. He reckons that he’s not ready to die, which is interesting because an Estate Agent told me that ‘the only way you leave Hayes is in a coffin.’ The latter views should be disturbing but they are not to me , because at present I want good schools, low crime (non if possible), clean streets and lovely parks and commons for Rugby and Cricket. Yes, cultural diversity would be nice . For now I am happy to fly the Eurasian flag and maybe sometime in the future a little Asian shop will open on the high street and there'll be people living her to buy from it.

Indoctrinated into my own family

A waning desire to go out coincides with a lack or little to no ability to hold my drink or cope with a hang over. So nights out are few and far between. I want and need to be with it for the kids. Need to be good mum and on the ball. I think such aspirations are normal and I’m happy to have them. Days and stages roll by so quickly , I remember when I first heard the pharse ‘bedtime routine.’Such Questions would roll off every monthers’ tongue ‘breast or bottle? how many bottles is he having? What time is bedtime? does he have a bedtime routine?’ The BTR has become an essential part of my day , as is the same for many other mothers. Preparing children for and putting them to sleep , is a serious business, tempers fray, tears are shed , bottoms smacked, stories told and finally if your lucky your little one sleeps .It is funny that something that was so new is now so normal and integral part of my day. Children and family life is simultaneously draining and rewarding. Toddler years are filled with 1 o’clock groups and nursery. The big jump to school is great because by 5 a child is ready , arguably to begin learning , albeit through play. For us mums , running the gauntlet that is the schoolrun, is interesting to say the least , sometimes it’s fun and at other times it is dreaded. I tell you more about that, another time.
I am lucky enough to have my folks near by to help. Many a time I have dozed off and Papa and Nanny have taken over as stand in parents. Over the years I have grown out of such dozing because the restrictions of BTR, school run, homework and clubs dictates that I am virtually always on the go .Just last week I was horizontal on the spare bed at Papa’s house. It would have been cool to just doze of and sleep BUT worringly I began to think of the ironing, the BTR and even consequences for the following morning . So instead taking a break when I could , I leapt to my feet carried on with the duties for the rest of the day. That’s it I thought , I’ve been indoctrinated into my own family.I didn't even own an iron until 2 years ago.24 months later and I'm rushing home to iron tea clothes. Between the 3 of them Teia, Luca and Gav have got me worrying about the inanely boring ironing instead of having a well deserved rest.

PS Ironing isn't so boring , as I recently had a brain wave, watch 4od or Iplayer whilst doing it. Ironing isn't half as bad when your watching "have I got news for you."

1660

Last March I was a having a mid 30’s crisis. Although I didn’t feel mature and half a decade from 40 , the facts were clear I was 35. Knowing this I felt I wanted to look the part, mature, grown up, sophisticated and chic. My long hair which had almost always been that way , apart from a glitch at 10, just had to go . The Glitch to which I refer,occurred when I was 10 and went for a Lady Di hair cut. Imagine that look on a little Eurasian kid. It was totally incongruous. Tis no wonder I never deviated from the classic long black hair with a few layers cut (if you can call it a hair cut, as it is was as close to a no hair cut as possible) .So for 15 years I stuck to long hair until last year. I was convinced a bob like Leigh Lezark would make me look a million dollars. I looked at pictures of her every night for a month and finally plucked up the courage to chop my long hair off. At the hairdressers I explained, “I want LL hair but about 2 inches longer.”The stylist looked at me like I was on day release from the Maudsley. It made sense to me , at the time but now I realize , you either want the hair cut like the picture or you don’t. I walked out of the HD with one of the worst cuts I have ever had. It was sitting at the bottom of my nape and jutting out like Darf Vaders helmet. It lasted a couple if days, until I couldn’t stand it any longer and I went for a second cut somewhere else, which was equally rubbish. By the end of the week anything would be better than the helmet . I was told I could go back to the first HR for a re cut, so long as it was within 7 days. So I did and requested a cut the same as the picture. I walked out with an amazing LL cut. I loved it UNTIL I realized that I had to blow dry the mo fo everyday for it to look any good. I am not high maintenance. I’m a scruff at the best of times. Blow drying my hair made it break and I even burnt my neck with a metal brush that got to too hot. Not only that but the cut dictated what I wore. Girlie stuff was off the menu. Maxis and vests didn’t look right. I needed structure, shoulder pads and shirts, think Mary Portas . Great for her but I am simply a mum with a part time job. Rocking up to the school gates, with a power suit and hair cut to an angle that Leigh or Mary would covet, just wasn’t gonna happen. I looked more like an off duty BBC morning news reader and not in a good way. The hair cut aged me and I wasn’t ready to leap to 40 . Of course, this just wasn’t sustainable and hell I want to look feminine not Like `I want to crush a pair balls with my bare hands.’ So I have been going through the whole , growing a bob out stage. Man , it takes a long time. I have had to get inbetween haircuts which doesn’t help, as it feel like it is 2 inches grown and 3 inches off. Finally I am here , with hair that is long enough to feel pretty and girlie. So YAY I can get married if I want or someone asks me, I can wear a cute dress and I can throw away the enormous metal blow drying brush etc etc.

I am soo glad I experimented and that I did it at 35 not for 40. A bob at 40 would make me feel 50 and tip me over the edge and into a deep depression. I am proud that I had the nerve to chop a substantial amount of my hair off. Yep Glad and Very Glad that the experiment is over. 16 from the back and 60 from the front BRING IT ON.

The pros and cons of face book

Just joined FB and I am hooked . Just into day 10 of my confirmed addiction. I find myself asking why, why am I hooked and I the only one ? most definitely not. What makes FB so addictive?

I am not a FB virgin. OH no tis my second go. First time was rubbish and had some nasty side effects , sounds like something else doesn’t it! Honestly though I didn’t like it because I didn’t know what I was doing so I found myself poking people left right and centre. Not a problem if that’s the intention. Second dislike was the strange feelings that emanated from seeing other peoples, somewhat edited lives played out in the photos on their respective walls (only show the good, cool and good looking bits). Why wasn’t I as busy or on such a lovely holiday, I would ask myself. I bailed out after 7 days. My nerves and ego couldn’t take any more. After that I scoffed at all things FB. Tis unnatural I would say, it is evil , ban it, I thoroughly agreed with the Daily Mail on this point (that’s scary, must be getting old). Checking people out and being nosey just wasn’t my style. If I want to communicate with you, then I’ll call or email you, that was my tough no nonsense line.

The years rolled by and I would get the odd friend invite via my hotmail account... That’s how it was Until this Xmas , when I received my own little mac book. Easy access to www meant I felt it easier to sort through work, mummy stuff and even get back to my blog. Then FB sprang back into my mind. I decided to give it a second go. Like a scorned lover I took tentative steps towards opening an account. Second time round I knew what to expect the pros and cons , I set my privacy at the highest level and made sure I only poked those worth poking. I also reminded myself that facebook is about the good times. Down days and poopoo photos are personal and you share that Sxxx with friends over a cup of coffee or glass of wine , not on the www. Now I am hooked. I check it a couple of times a day... Ok maybe times that by 2 or do I mean add a zero, and your getting close to real figure. The kids are getting their own T and the washing hasn’t been done in days. FB is like having kids, what did I do with my time before . The good thing is I am finding that it’s fun and I get to communicate (communicate being the operative word, in that I am not stalking) with friends, some of whom are on the other side of the world or North London , which may as well be. I love seeing pictures of friends and commenting, it’s engaging. So FB is fun fun fun and funny if you use it in a positive way. It can be a fantastic advertising tool too, sharing political views-recipes-good restaurant. Oh and don’t get me started on CHAT, that’s like amazing. Yesterday, I chatted to a friend in Bali . Technology never ceases to astonish me.

What are the (my) rules of engagement for FB ? I have some.. Only good pictures please, I don’t want to see a school hottie that has turned into a 70s Elvis and giving Henry 8th a run for their money. Hey but make sure there not too good , dare I say unrealistic .Remember ...This isn’t a dating site / competition Or is it. Keep you personal info to a minimum, you don’t want some psychopath knocking on your door. It does and has happened you know. Accept friends , not any old Harry. Who cares if you’ve got 8000 mates on FB . Question is have you met them. Some queries are still in the consultation process, as I feel ambivalent about them. Like do you accept friendships from people you went to school with and barely remember, if at all, scary when not even a picture triggers the memory. Is it Ok to contact/poke an old crush?What about de friending. Can you remove someone from your list without offending.
I believe I’ve got to be tough , if I am to use Fb in a way that is conducive to a happy and sound mind.

P>S>
Has anyone checked out the status options and laughed at “it’s complicated.” Isn’t every relationship.

My final thought ..Vive la Face Book. If I haven’t got this obsession under control by next week, I’m checking into rehab.

I’m off to change my profile picture.

PPS I just attempted to remove a couple of FB friends that I have had no communication with and couldn't do it for fear of reprisal and offending someone. Will try again but this time with a stiff drink in my hand.

x

Is it coz I is Asian?

If you know me personally you’ll know I am half Irish and half mauritian. My mauritian dad , is of Chinese decent. Hence my oriental look.

This is of relevance to my anecdote because today at work I was told “ hey, you know,you act well Asian.” Interesting statement , I thought, no one has ever said that to me before, prey -tell me more, so I said “why, what do I do?”
“ Oh ...Asian stuff , like cut people off mid sentence, speaking formerly whilst having a jovial conversation.” By this point I was cracking up, this boy had a index or Oriental behaviour right at the tip of his tongue. I was laughing so hard because I recognized the first trait . In my defense I said “ Yeh I do that, because some people need to be put out of there misery.I’m doing them a favour, god damn it everyone knows that at times, interjection is completely necessary." However I couldn’t relate to the latter observation but the first was enough to keep me amused until the accuser explained that there were other Asian behaviours, such as pointing with ones lips...OK difficult to understand but picture this, point your face in any given direction and purse your lips for a milli second, eureka you got PWYL. The second is acknowledging people by simply raising your eyebrows.Curiously my dad and my aunt do this. Ok so this lad may have something.

I have always seen and said that I take after my dad. I can be blunt, terse, cut people off and generally surly. I thought this was a Lai-Cheong thang but maybe I got it wrong , maybe it be a Oriental thang. So now I can say , I can’t help it, it’s in my genes, blame my ancestors.

If you are caucasian, what are you thinking , do you relate to my colleague’s comments. Are you like hell yeh, those Chinese folk are always pointing with their lips, selling dodgy dvds and eating noodles.

The conversation was funny and made stranger when another colleague added a Chinese stereotype would be that they are inscrutable. What the hell does that mean , had to look it up.For those of you how are as ignorant as me, it means impossible to understand, apt! The thesaurus synonyms read like this.. enigmatic, unreadable, opaque, abstruse.

Ok I said, so I have a dead look in my eyes, emotionless face, I point with my lips and I cut people off mid sentence.I thought I only did the latter when inebriated.Or at least that's when I notice it.

The idea still makes me laugh now. My colleague’s observations were funny and not taking maliciously because his girlfriend is half Filipino, so he can’t be racist. You can't beat Asian babes. Hey isn't there a magazine with that title?

X

Spooning

Another MP is busted for having an extra marital affair with a man, or was he? Apparently the rumour stems from the fact that he and his 25 aid , who happens to be tall dark and handsome, shared a twin bedroom , whilst campaigning. The duo would not have shared a room if they had have known such rumours would emanate from such an arrangement. Let’s assume they shared the room innocently.Is it normal for boys to share, real question as I have not come across such a scenario.Will ask my man what he does on a stag do. Although he very different from a politician. Think manual workers falling asleep face down on the bathrooom floor.
What really happens when men get to hang out..behind closed doors , do they like to have pow wow, do each others hair ,paint toe nails and complain that their wives don’t appreciate them? Although I find the idea amusing I doubt very much that be the case. That is one angle eliminated, so on to the next, saving money. Well I am sure what with MPs expenses , a hotel room each is a genuine expenditure which would withstand the close inspection of the Daily Telegraph. Ok so they’re not pow wowing or needing to save money... That leaves spooning. Even if they are not spooning I don not understand why a politician who can be so guarded during heated and high pressured debating can drop their guard and better judgement when it comes to actions. If you were going to have a cuddle why not cover up properly, take separate rooms and sneak out later, actually forget that , why not come out, stop living a lie and tell the truth.That is the way to earn respect.