CSI (but then for real)

Day 2 of our UK trip was good.
Interesting.
I like interesting.

From a control room, we watched our suited-up students examine various crime scenes and pointed out their mistakes and gave them clues for missed evidence.
And there they are:

Forensic science is a fascinating field.
Hope I get to learn more about it today.

Today will be lots of lab work, and I'm donating my bare footprints, sans pedicure, to science for our intern here, who is researching forensic podiatry.

Meanwhile, English food has become the enemy, and I actually feel sick from eating so much.
Fish and chips for lunch isn't all it's cracked up to be. 
Not after a full English breakfast. 

Last night Trip #2 to an Indian restaurant followed by beer with the students, making me wince - yes, actually wince, at my reflection in the hotel room mirror.
Sigh.

I'll behave today.

Yoghurt.
Fruit.
Tea.
Salad for lunch.
Something small for dinner.
No more all-you-can-eat-buffets.
Promise.

Sigh sigh sigh.

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Oh that little babe

Wish I could kiss him right now.

This instant!

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Wee corner of paradise-ish

Day 1 of the U.K.
Done and Dusted.

Well, it was a long day yesterday.
I managed to be on time for the train from Breda to Schiphol.
I met up with my colleague at the airport and we easily had enough time to check in, board and fly, fly away to the U.K.
(poetic license inserted - did you notice?)

Almost immediately after having arrived in Stoke-on-Trent - we didn't even check into our respective hotel rooms - we rushed off for the first courses of the day.
Yee-ha for Introduction to Crime Scene Analysis, then Evidence Packaging and Labelling, and then finally a lecture on Presumptive Testing for Blood, Semen and Saliva (there's a mouthful for you). 
All very, very interesting.

Afterwards, we checked into our stately hotel with eeny-meeny tiny little rooms.

I got a nice enough, windowless corner to call my own for the next few days.

And here I slept like a Babe.
I haven't slept this much in years.


Today: Crime Scene Training.

But I miss my boys, miss my husband.
Really, really badly.

But there are bigger problems in the world.
If you're on the Eastern Seaboard in the States, be safe, okay?


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Going, going...

Gone.

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Indignant

This is what it looks like.

I'm leaving early tomorrow morning for the UK.

Am looking forward to it - a lot.

Also a bit scary, but hey, I'm on this quest to change my life, and something has to give.

Mostly I'm looking forward to not having noisy children around me All The Time.

God knows I love my boys, but their energy levels do not match mine, and I'd love to get away from all the day-to-day problems that I face.

Perhaps I should save every last penny I can and escape once a year, even if just for a weekend, on my own, my own agenda, do my own thing.

Today, as yesterday, I'm packing my own things and that of Son#2,and I need to write all the things down that the husband mustn't forget.

Sigh.

Wish we could sit somewhere relaxed today, a nanny for the kids, tea and then later cocktails in hand, reading on sun loungers and hearing the sea rolling in and out in the background.

Aww hell, I just feel like whining today.

Forgive me.

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C'est Le Weekend: Brrrrr

We are nesting.
Not nesting as in another child, no sirrrrreeeeeee, but nesting as in buying wood, preparing for winter.
Sort of looking forward to snow and ice just to see exactly how cold our 300 year old home is going to get.
Think we'll be fine.

This week I bought a tablet, so I can organize my existence and for fun.
So far, it's working like a charm.
Having everything digitally is just swell, and even though I am Techno Twit as far as bluetooth, android and whatnot are involved, I must say that technology makes life easier.  
It just does.

Between nesting, I'm cooking soup, sending Son#2 off to his grandmother while I'm away in England, readying the house, laundry, food, medical supplies and everything else to make it easier for the husband while I'm away.

Am looking forward to going to England, but I'll miss the boys, miss the husband.
Might do me good though, and it's an experience.
Experiences are always good, even the crappy ones.
At least I think they are.
Well, most of them anyway.
The jury is still out though.

Be warm and happy this weekend!


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On this Grey Thursday

Winter is inching closer as I write.
This weekend:  Frost is on the cards.
And we are entering winter time again, meaning the clock goes back one hour for daylight savings time.

My little South African Brain cannot get used to this and every year I have trouble remembering exactly how it works.
Sigh.

Am at work.
Don't feel like it.
Trying to inspire myself to get lots of things done today as I won't be here next week, going on my work trip to Manchester with a colleague.

Yesterday we said goodbye to my little green car that was smashed a couple of weeks ago.
Feel sad about it.
The husband and I both felt that the little green car gave us a sense of freedom.
Freedom from the Status Trap.
Freedom from Debt.
Free of all the things that let us slip off the path on the way to things that really matter.
It was a simple car, built for people with simple lives.
I don't know when exactly things got so complicated.
Wish I knew so we could undo the actions that got us here.

I'm not unhappy, and I'm not ungrateful.
We have a wonderful home.
Reliable cars.
We have the most wonderful, naughty, feisty and loving boys.
I only wish we had more gumption to leave all the physical trappings behind.
Go live near the beach in Tarifa.
Live simply.

There is always the Action-part that is the key ingredient to the magic formula.
To live originally.
To just do it.

Child Labour Part 3

Get 'em while they're young.

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Mercy!

Sweet Lawdy, Lawdy Lawd!

Have Mercy!

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Oh October

Autumn is in full swing and it is beautiful.
Beautiful.

This week is Hell Week, but I'm going to try my damndest to:
1.  Not go crazy
2.  Not succumb to stress
3.  To stay calm and zen-like
4.  To speak in a gentle voice to both husband and child
5.  To try and get all the work done that includes writing 3 manuals, marking 2 exams,
     processing all marks and answering an I-can't-begin-to-tell-you-how-big amount of
     emails.

In short:  Stressed.
Have a twitching eye and my nerve endings are frayed and sore.
I know this feeling.
This is Stress.

When the reprieve will come, I don't know, but it will.
Just have to grin and bear it.

I can do this.


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Intellect, ha!

Yes, dear reader, you may have heard, and I can only confirm it.

After reading the Fifty Shades of Grey-trilogy, having fed my intellect thoroughly (haha), I have fallen way down low on the Ladder of Literature and resorted to The Romance Novel (a few of them by now, actually, mostly by Johanna Lindsey), where feisty women are tamed and ravished, and even Vikings only wear a fur around their loins in the dead of winter.

What has become of my mind?
I teach at a university for crying out loud!!
I should be reading research reports, academic fluff, not this drivel!

But, I do enjoy it.
There.
I admitted it.
Aaahh.



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C'est Le Weekend: It's a War Zone, baby

Word of advice to ye without child out there:  Keep it that way.

The husband and I went to bed at 19h30 last night, lay in silence, defeated.
Kids can be great, but they're tiring like hell, and today I am battle weary.
Weary.
I cannot muster the strength or the will to face another battle with the boys, or any battle between them either.

My life has turned into work, children, rushing to and from appointments and pharmacies and play-dates, and along the way, my life has just slipped away.  Gone.

Just 3 more days then I can go to work again on Monday.
I thank the heavens for that.
And I never, ever thought that those words would enter my universe.

Today, I wish I could go sailing away, like Chris de Burgh.

 

 Sigh.


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Prodigal Son

The prodigal son has returned home after his visit with the grandparents, and after a bit of an I-need-to-adjust-again bout of fighting with Mother and Brother, the husband managed to calm everyone down, poured me some vino rosso, and left me cooking in the kitchen, alone.
It was Bliss.

I missed the little bugger, even if I promptly  sent him to his room as soon as we got home.
Glad he's home though, and the knowledge that he slept under my roof again last night, gave me comfort. 

It was a run-around day yesterday, driving to Tilburg's station to pick up Grandma & Son#1 after some poor soul gave his life to the Railway Lines, upsetting the entire southern rail network and most awfully, the poor train driver.

Sigh.
There is always an outcome, don't you ever forget that, and even the really crappy things disappear or at least lessen in intensity after a while.  
They really do.  
Am living proof.




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This Boy

Seems to react badly to colourants in candy.

A.k.a.  Turns Into Satan.
No-one is safe.

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Brotherly Love

Praise the gods for gravel and cups!
And closed kitchen doors!
And wine!
And time to drink it!

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Autumn 'break'

Son#2 and I are at work.
Son#2 has been given a colleague's desk and computer, hot chocolate and is quietly watching an array of Donald Duck clips on youtube.
Bless the Information Age.

There are quite a few things that I need to do for work this week, and preferably before Wednesday when Son#1 is coming back from the in-laws.

Meanwhile a stomach bug is washing over us all like a tsunami, and Son#2, Son#3 and I have all succumbed to it, leaving the husband who started getting sick today.

But the weather is glorious, a smorgasbord of coloured trees and falling leaves, sunshine and crisp air.
This will be a good week, I can just feel it in my bones.
And, as far as large amounts of work are concerned, I'm sticking to a recently learned lesson:
Action dispels fear.
Works every time.
And if not, then I can always take a nap.

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Words to live by

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Lift your fists up high

This too shall pass.
Really.
Right???
or
Yeah right??? 

We have a rare genetic disorder which prevents sleeping in our offspring.
I'm sure.
Especially Satan, a.k.a. Son#3 and his Little Helper, a.k.a. Son#2 who happens to be half human, half hygrometer and wakes at the slightest dripping of rain on his window.
It was an interesting night, and today had its highlights too.

Mostly, today was surreal.
Imagine our breakfast table this morning.
Son#1, excited-freaky-because-I-am-going-to-grandma.
Son#2, vomiting at the table, helllooooooo again, Mr. Stomach Bug.
Son#3, tired and cranky and whiny from yet another sleepless night.
The husband, shuffling around in his bathrobe, trying to placate me, the wife, who has fits of hysteria.

The husband is right, I'm not a caring kind of person.
I can look after, but caring, that's another cup of tea.
Please note, this is not an insult.
It's actually a very accurate observation.
I appreciate self-sufficiency.
There.
I said it.
No thunderbolts....  yet.


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C'est Le Weekend: Put that nurse's uniform on

And start caring.

The husband's operation went well, but then he started losing quite a bit of blood.
The doctor finally came and sutured the errant vein, without anaesthetic (new respect for the husband) and we had to wait and see whether he could go home or not.
Luckily he could.
Quite unpleasant having to leave your partner behind.
I'm sort of getting an idea of what it must have been like for him when I had my horrible birth experiences.

Today I'm taking everything slowly.
Sloooooowly.
Son#3 started an entire Avalanche of Wakeful Children last night, and then I lay awake worrying about the husband, so in short:  I am Pooped.

It also seems that Son#3 has discovered the Dark Side.
Interesting times, let me tell you.

Son#1 is being dropped off at the in-laws for a few days tomorrow morning, which is one child less to worry about.

In a minute I'll go and help the husband take a shower, poor thing.
But first, I'm enjoying my breakfast.

 And tea.
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This is it

The husband is getting an operation today.
Am nervous for his sake, and my own.
Want my partner in this life to be o.k.
More than o.k.

Before we check into hospital at 14h00 today, I first have a meeting to attend, other minor things to do at work, and then I'm heading home.
Luckily the in-laws are coming to pick up Son#1 and #2 from school and Son#3 can stay at daycare until closing time.
Aaaaaaah.  
The logistics of childcare.
The logistics of life. 


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I love Maynard

Recently discovered the work of Maynard Dixon, a mid-century American artist.
I particularly love this painting:

Wish I had time to start painting again.
All in good time, but the tempo at work and home has been so hectic that I hardly have time for anything.
Hope I can keep it up and not burn out in the process.
Nice prospects at work, nothing to complain about.
Just the sheer amount of work that gets my goat.

Sigh.
Long, deep sigh.


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He

He who wakes us every night.

He who asks for 'cookieeee'  as soon as we get in the car.

He who rearranges pots & pans and as from today, plastic containers too.

He.

He whom his mother adores.
He who has some role in Personal Organization in his future.
And humour.
For sure.

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Ride the squalls

A busy period is waiting for us.
This week, the husband will go for a small operation on his back, I have a tiny range of hills to climb at work, the boys have school events that need attending, and I have to start preparing for my work trip to the UK at the end of the month.

I will have to keep everything running at home until the husband is feeling better
We're both quite nervous about the operation.
I'm nervous because he's nervous.

Thank the lucky stars that next week is the Autumn Break, and we can semi-relax without having to rush to and fro schools/work/anything else.
Just breathe.
Breathing is good. 


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Words to live by

Dare to imagine life in a different way, I say!

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Brawls and whatnot

Lots of tension in the house.
Emotions escalate to high heaven and harsh words have been spoken.

I escaped to the hairdresser's and it was lovely.
Getting blonder by the day.

It's such dreary weather.
I really hope that and everything else, improves.


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C'est Le Weekend: Meet & Greet

Today was super hectic.
This morning I had a lovely meet-up with an old Polish student whom I taught back in 2008.
She was in Brussels for a conference and wanted to see me.
How lovely!

Then I raced back to pick up Thing#1 and Thing#2.
Thing#1 went to a friend's house and Thing#2, Son#3 and I went to Ikea.
Back home, I frantically tried to spruce myself up as I have a work function in 's-Hertogenbosch this evening.
Picked up Thing#1 from the friend, then hit the supermarket, where Thing#1 and #2 had various bust-ups and loud fights in the aisles.
Swearing at me.
Screaming at each other.
Physical Violence Amongst Midgets.
Sigh.

Now, finally, at 4 p.m., I am home.
Son#3 and I have been up since 3 a.m. and he looks grey and vacant from tiredness.
He even fell downstairs today, just to add a bit more drama.
Last night I tutored a colleague's son.
Came home late.

Do other people also lead such busy lives????
Am I the only sucker with time management problems??
Sigh.


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Bleary

The day started - again - at 4h50 this morning, when Son#3 woke up, and woke the rest of us as well.

I'm working from home and at home today.
I have actual work to do for my job, but also serious necessity to clean our increasingly dusty and dirty house.

After dropping Son#1 and Son#2 off at school this morning, the mother of that other boy who-won't-play-with-my-son laughed out loud when I spoke English to Son#2, saying that I sound like Dora, on TV.
The other parents in the vicinity also laughed.
 
Wanted to smack her (for various reasons).
This is now comment number 3 that highlights that I/we am/are different from the rest of the villagers.

Well.
Different is just dandy.
I'm glad we're different. 
Wouldn't have it any other way.

Mankind, I beseech you:  

Be kind.  

Loving.  

And if not, leave me the hell alone.

On the beach, we were

I forgot to mention:  Sunday turned out to be lovely.
We drove to the coast at around 10h30, there at 11h30, and the Beastie Boys hit the beach.

First, the husband had to drag them back to the real beach, the one NOT behind the restaurant and fenced off with barbed wire.

Son#1 took to the dunes and quickly made friends.
He's good that way.

Meanwhile, Son#2 went galloping through the waves - jumping over each wave as it came in - in his swim shorts and t-shirt while the rest of mankind on the beach were covered in jackets.
After a while Son#1 joined in the fun. 

People stopped.
Stared.
What kind of parent would let their children hop around in the waves - unsupervised - in shorts and 14 degrees?
I was watching from the restaurant's terrace, just in case you think I really suck.  

Son#3 kept me company while I sipped hot chocolate (as was my intention) while the husband did all the hard work.

Eventually I even palmed Son#3 off to the husband's capable hands and then proceeded to order wine.

Bliss.
If one does things, one should do them well. 


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Only 7

Son#1, the unique and inventive, creative and challenging creature that he is, is only 7.
He has so much to still learn.
Yesterday, the mother of another boy in Son#1's class spoke to me about Son#1 and how her son won't play with him anymore because Son#1 always boasts about having everything bigger and better than her son.

I felt so angry at this woman although I do understand her point to some degree.
I so desperately want all our boys to fit into their new, small school and not to be left out.

Son#1 was very, very upset when I spoke to him about this.
Immediate tears and sadness.  
Instant anger at this so-called friend that betrayed him like this.
He wanted to challenge the said boy to a water duel, take up Judo to teach him a lesson.
Eventually the conversation turned to what a good friend is, and how to be one.
Hope I got through to him.
I understand, deeply, how everything he says and does is born from a point of insecurity.

He came into my room last night and told me that he felt so lonely.
My heart breaks.




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M is for Management

Today, after a busy start, I was installed as a new member of our Academic Board.
So far, it's fascinating and scary.
I don't generally consider myself management-material, I'm too bloody nice (cultural and family curse) and belief in myself and my opinions AWOL-ed a long, long time ago.

But.
(Big but).
I'm willing to stretch myself.
See how far I can go and what I can accomplish.
Who knows what will happen?
Perhaps I'll fail miserably, but if I never try, I'll never know.
Perhaps I can even learn to trust my opinions and insights again.

I was a different, more confident person in South Africa.
Would love to be more like my old self again.
Every little step counts as far as I'm concerned.
And everything, everything, is going to be allright!
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