To the New Year

So this is the sound of you

here and now whether or not

anyone hears it this is

where we have come with our age

our knowledge such as it is

and our hopes such as they are

invisible before us

untouched and still possible.

W.S. Merwin

Goodbye then, you shitty old utterly crap year, 2013.

Sayonara, Shithead.

(Pardon my language, but honesty & swearing... it's liberating as Hell)

(I ♥ Swearing, and do it well)

And rhyming as well it seems.

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The Arrow of Time

It's called entropy, the arrow of time:  the introduction of randomness that cannot be undone.
A glacier moves along down a valley over a period of time, but its movement cannot be undone again to put it back exactly as it was.
Things have changed significantly.
There is no going back. 

My mother and I talked about the arrow of time yesterday - about my dad being gone and how she can't go back, she couldn't go back even when he was still alive.
Things had changed, have changed irrevocably.
She feels sad because there is nothing she could do for him to make him better.
She can't do things to make him comfortable anymore.

 
We went to Arnhem yesterday, to the Open Air Museum, along with the rest of the Dutch Population.
We spent the day looking at old houses, clog-making, sliding down icy hills (yes, real hills) on giant tubes, ice skating, and all the while drinking gluhwein, you know, just to stay warm.
Son#3 fell twice:  Bloody nose and scraped knees, pants ruined, shirt stained.

We drove home, accompanied by the most beautiful sunset, missing my dad.
Where is he now?
Bit by bit, the realization hits me that he is gone.
A minute reflection on this awful fact, squishes the tears from my eyes, clenches my chest.

The arrow of time keeps moving along its original planned path it seems, and tomorrow this shitty year will end.
We are sending off 2013 on a farm about 45 minutes from here.
There are bedsteads for the boys, and a living room for the big people so we can sip our champagne in peace, putting good things out into the universe.
Good things for all of us, everyone we know, semi-know and don't know.

The boys and I went for breakfast in Breda, then grocery (wine, haha) shopping, an ice cream and home again.
We wrestled in the restaurant, and I was thoroughly kissed by #1 and #2 for my valiant wrestling efforts.
Now TV.
Paying bills.
Coffee and love.


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Because you have to

Buy flowers today.

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Things can change

I spent the day in pain.
I was so clever as to start doing body squats on Thursday and paid the price.
I'm in bad shape.
Baaaaaad shape.

But I keep whining over petty things, while people are fighting to just live a wee bit longer.
To stay with their loved ones, to see their kids grow, to have their llittle families be together for a while longer.
This afternoon, the husband took Son#1 and #2 to a museum close to the German border.
I tried calling and calling, but no answer.
And I know it might be because my dad passed away 8 weeks ago, but I felt frantic at the mere thought that they might have been in an accident.
Frantic.

Tonight I gave all the boys loooong kisses, snuggled next to the husband while watching cheesy Xmas movies.
Ignorant in the uncomplicatedness of it all.
The normalcy.

Roos, I don't know you, might never meet you, but if you need anything I would so like to help.
It's there if you need it.



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Chekhov on Boxing Day

The day at the in-laws was OK-ish.

The husband and I had a minor scuffle, quickly dissolved.

My father-in-law was not too grumpy.

The kids went ice skating and behaved exceptionally well.

We came home late, popped the kids in bed (who slept, thankfully).

Drank wine and phoned my mom.

This morning, a breakfast together.

I started reading Anton Chekhov's The Duel & Other Stories in the night when I couldn't sleep.

I'm a new fan.

Everyone should read Chekhov.

(That sounds so pretentious...  forgive me, but really, it's good stuff).

We might go for a walk in the woods close to Breda a bit later.

Watch a Christmas movie with the kids while stuffing our faces with popcorn.

Mostly doing nothing, and that's fine by me.

 The weather is dreary, but that's OK.

It's almost the end of this annus horribilus, and I can't wait.

On towards the good.

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Christmas

Our first Christmas with my dad gone.

How I wish my dad were with us still.
And that my mom could be here instead of 14 000 km away all the way down at the bottom of Africa.

A low-key day here in the Nether Lands:

We're off to the in-laws for good food and kindness.
My father-in-law is getting older, so is my mother-in-law, but his skin seems so grey lately, and I worry about him.

Hope your Christmas will be blessed.

And by blessed I mean that you have patience and love for others.

A grateful heart.
I hope I have those things too.

The world as I know it could all be so very much worse.

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Prudence above all else

Being the mostly Cash-Strapped Christmas, the only purchase I'll be making for the festive season will be a chicken for the Non-Vegetarian Husband, and a loaf of bread.
The children have been informed that there will be no Magical Gift-filled Sleigh visiting our house this year, and that's a good thing.
Screw you, Consumerism.
We have other plans.

 I did actually buy 3 gifts:  3 DVDs for one measly euro each at the pharmacy of all places, and the husband got free children's books at the petrol station every time he filled up his car, so there will be books and DVDs.
That's it.

The boys found my old squirrel-hole for useless gifts late yesterday afternoon, and unearthed 2 cheapskate viewfinders and a Playmobil figurine.
I was saving those for a rainy (desperate) day.
My biggest gift will be the fact that we are having Christmas dinner at the in-laws, meaning no expensive groceries or trying to cook if you can't, and entertaining which surely will require more practice on my part before it is satisfactory.
Phew. 

Prudence.
I strive towards the Cardinal Virtues if I can.
But mostly I can't.
See, I'm not Catholic.
Quit when you're ahead I say.

Walk the path of peace (well, try anyway)

A friend is coming over for a visit today.
Son#1 and #2 have been up since 5 a.m. - I was blissfully zonked out in deep sleep, thanks to a few sleepless nights.
Thank the gods for small mercies.

The boys are fighting.
Do all boys do that??
Ours fight like sailors.
Swinging, punching, name-calling.
All. Day. Long.

Son#2 is the worst of the scumbags now:  He doesn't listen.
Even screams at you:  I can't heeeeear you!
Sigh.

This is Holiday Hell.

The husband and I are trying to escape the house on the 31st.
We don't want to be home on New Year's.
It was such a crapcrapcrap year.
Next year HAS to be better.
Perhaps a hotel somewhere, just for one night.
Aaaaaaah.

And so

The night was short.
Late to bed, early to rise.
The husband off to Breda, Son#3 keeping me awake, and now, almost 9 in the morning, I'm trying my very best to motivate Son#2 to actually clean up the mess he's made.
Thank the lucky stars that Son#1 is being an angel this morning.
A veritable angel.

The running-away-factor is high today and I'm hoping the husband will be back early so I can do just that.

Meanwhile, I worry about my mom and how she's doing.
It's early days, and anything goes where grief is concerned.
It's been 7 weeks since my dad passed away, and it feels faaaaaar away but also incredibly near.
Raw at times.
And the last time that I saw him on the day of the funeral, is crystallizing in my mind.
The image becomes clearer and sharper.
He looked like a knight at rest.  
He was a knight.
Ours.

I'm hoping I can get through the day with not-too-noisy kids and lots of patience.
Hopefully we'll go out and do something. 
Perhaps I'll even have an hour or so to just sit, read, and think about life for a moment.


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C'est Le Weekend: Christmas Holiday

The boys had a Christmas dinner at their school last night, came home tired, and have stayed that way.

I've come to detest this time of year - it's a tiresome, long themed festival and no child sleeps well.

First Sinterklaas, now Christmas, then New Year's and the whole cycle of themed holidays will just start again.

It's only 9 o' clock and we've already had 4 tantrums, I've done the laundry and cleaned the entire kitchen and now I'm tired but drinking coffee.

Barf barf.

The school holidays start at midday, and then we have swimming lessons and dinner.

Son#1's rugby tonight.

Luckily I had the clarity of mind to tell a mom NO yesterday when she asked if I could take her son home with us today, which would have meant dragging another boy with us to said swimming lessons and putting up with him for at least 6 and a half hours after school.

Self-preservation.

You can't stop progress.

Hope your weekend will be GOOD, wherever you might be.

 
 

For you, mom

 

How many loved your moments

of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love

false or true.

But one man loved the pilgrim 

soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of 

your changing face.

(W.B. Yeats)

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A modern (un)holy family

5 Thugs.

1 Baby.

 Somehow I think we are missing the mark with our parenting skills.

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A simple request

I came across this last night:

If I can't have what I want, let me want what I have.  

Exquisite in its simplicity.
Just let me want that which is mine in this life.
Because of what it gives me, even when I may not understand it now - what the hell its purpose is.

I had an appointment with the ear, nose & throat specialist this morning.
The lump I had in front of my left ear is gone, my mouth better.
There was good news today, because the gods must know that I can bear no more bad tidings for the moment.
And, knowing what I know of disease and death by now, I realize that there is no magic pill that makes everything better overnight.  

After the hospital this morning, I went to the Hema in Breda, sat reading and sipping coffee, thinking of my dad that made me cry in public, then reading trashy novels to escape myself for a while.
Now on, to another long day at work after a night completely devoid of sleep nor rest.



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Instructions for Mondays

Just Perfect.

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In-Law Invasion

Last year, I went to a Slavic choir performance with my in-laws.

They're coming today so they can go again this year, this time with the husband.

I have a cough and a bark, and it won't be nice for the other people if I go coughing my lungs out in a quiet, cold church.

First, though, a good clean of the house, then shopping for food with the good husband's bank card.

I wish my mother was here.

To drink tea and miss my dad with.

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Well? Would you?

Frankly, I'm not sure.
I am sort of identity-less at the moment, and that scares me.
Have I ever actually had an identity?
Will it ever come back?

In South Africa, I was a kind Rottweiler.
Nice, unless you peeved me off by being unfair or mean.
Rrrrrrr, I'd show my teeth and bark like mad.
But now I'm a bit of a poodle.
Worse yet, a nervous poodle.
One of those white ones that roll over and play dead when they hear a loud sound, woolly-white little legs in the air.
I've been poodle-ing for about 13 years.
There should be groups for the existenceless masses, shouldn't there?
And what would we be then?
Personal Nihilists???
Standing up at meetings.
Hi, my name is [insert name here]. I don't believe I really exist.

I guess I'm sort of aiming for a Border Collie now.
They seem competent enough to lead their flock of sheep, don't they?
No hysterical rages.
No fluffy white surrender.
Quiet confidence.

I guess I'm still kind.
That's all that I can come up with today.
Good enough.

The husband wants to go to Breda, sit in the park, go to the Moti.
I'm thinking of house-swapping for the period between Christmas and just past New Year's.
Any takers?

C'est Le Weekend: Just an Ordinary Day, it seems

So we bought the damn Christmas tree and already its presence is annoying me.
Too much clutter, too many light flashes.
I need cool, calm colours in preferably padded rooms.
Medication.
A nurse who asks me how I am today.
Someone to take my temperature (orally, thankyouverymuch) and pats my hand.

We need a new boiler.
And that's expensive.
This has been a most expensive year.
Two trips to South Africa.
Half of my annual salary paid back to the Tax Man (a.k.a. Satan) for childcare.
Not to mention the already expensive childcare I have to shoulder every month.
Cars that broke down.
The boys damaged the husband's car - another 500 bucks to insurance.
Dental costs.
How???
How does one get ahead.
I don't know, do you?

Thank the heavens that I have an extremely short short-term memory at the moment - I read and re-read books over and over, not even noticing or not being able to remember what will happen in a book.
Recycling and saving money.
Idiocy is bliss.
And my stockpiling of shower gels and dishwashing liquid will at least get us through winter shiny and clean.

This afternoon, Son#2 is off to swimming again.
I have the flu, I think.

Tonight I'll start thinking of my next painting.
Pity the heating has been turned off in my studio - TO SAVE MONEY - otherwise I could happily have spent my day there.


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Hope

Our work Christmas get together came and went.
I offered to pick a colleague up at the station - hoping to apply the FIFO-principle:
First in, first out.
It was ok-ish.
There is a negative atmosphere hanging around, and I overheard a I-thought-she-was-kind-colleague complaining about me to another I-thought-she-had-integrity-one.
Mmmm.

I'm dreaming of different jobs and careers today.
And my wonderful dreamer-mother dreams right along with me.
You never know where dreams might lead us. 
More passion.
Less stress.

Tonight, buying a Christmas tree with the boys at Ikea.
Early to bed.
Dreaming of magic happening in my life.
 
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Say No More

Just do it.

We have been wrapped in frost during the night.
I woke up sounding like Marlon Brando.
All 3 boys complain of stomach aches and were given paracetomol.

The skies are clear and blue.
Son#3 and I are cozy-ing up at home with coffee and warm milk.
Serendipity.

 

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Just for Now

I slept like a babe last night.

The husband finally kicked me out of bed at 7h30 this morning.

Nothing like a good cold to knock you out.

I'm teaching again today, Victimology.

Trying to organize a guest lecturer from the police force - how do they deal with victims of rape?

The sad thing, is that the group of students always contains someone who has been a (family of) victim of violent crime - murder, rape, domestic violence, assault, robbery.

I must try to live more in appreciation of peace around me.

Meanwhile, I am flat broke.

After the Sinterklaas-madness, and just life in general, I have nothing left.

I'm expecting angry letters this week.

At least I have petrol in my car, and food in the freezer and cellar.

I cannot wait until Son#3 also goes to school when he turns 4 and we can skip his childcare fees every month.

I only work to pay for childcare.

All this stress just to do that.

Come on, Lottery.

Be mine.

Big Time.

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Shine Bright like a Diamond

Busy.
4 hours' of loooong lessons to teach to mostly uninspired students today.
Oh never mind.

I went for a short run last night, and it was wonderful.
I'm doing it again today.
I'm on a 30-day Challenge, yes I am.
This first time around, I'm getting fitter.

My mom is doing OK-ish in South Africa.
There isn't much more that I can add to that.
Going from intensively caring for my dad, to an empty void and left without purpose:  it's tough for her.
My dad's death remains an insurmountable challenge, and catches us off guard at the strangest moments.
In the quiet, in the solitude and multitude.
I felt tears stinging behind my eyes at Saturday's classical music concert.  
All the things my dad would have enjoyed with so much gratified surrender.
He and my mother were both blessed at birth with an ability to stand in awe and wonder of all things, a deep appreciation of life.

The week ahead beckons with appointments that need to be made for Son#2 who has to go and see a dentist, a physiotherapist and the child neurologist in Rotterdam.
Our faculty's Christmas Party on Wednesday.
My work coach.

First, coffee.
Work.
Hope your week will be good.

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Sublime Noise

Last night, my friend Sandra invited me to go to the Philharmonic Orchestra with her, and it was a wonderful evening.
We felt young - we must have been the only people in the entire theater under the age of 65.
And then Music with a Capital M that one knows well, being played right there in front of you.
Not a note out of place, a perfect sound.

Michael Collins, a world-famous clarinettist.
Mozart and Brahms, but Mozart's Clarinet Concerto was the best.
Lovely wine and inspiring conversation with my insightful, good, friend.
I can just be my weak, pathetic old self with her, and one doesn't often find friends like that.

Even waking with a helluva cold this morning, I feel all inspired.
Grumpy dispositions won't get me down today.
Life is gooooood.


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She's gone to Capri and she ain't coming back

My mother and I used to smirk and enjoy this cigarette ad that was always on the back page of the Architectural Digest.  
Something to enjoy after drooling over houses we would never be able to afford.

Bliss.

Son#1 has his second rugby tournament today and the husband just left with him and Son#2 in tow, amidst a flurry of stressed discontent.
You know what???
I'm tired of the husband's stress, and I'm tired of my own.
I'm tired of stress in general.

The water pump that keeps our cellar nice and dry from all the water that constantly seeps through the dyke to lower ground (a.k.a. our back garden), broke sometime during the night.
This was the last straw that broke the camel's [husband's]  back this morning.

A colleague who believed I had 'potential' sort of 'fired' me this week, without coming right out and saying it.
He's been acting strange around me ever since I came back from South Africa, and I'm not sure if he expected me to actually keep working on my Personal Development whilst dealing with my father's death, coming back to lots of work, a stressed spouse, and 3 boys that neeeeeeeeed me constantly.  

My life is not lived in quiet isolation where I get to pick and choose where my time goes.  
My life is 'lived' in many ways, and to want it differently is actually quite ridiculous.
This colleague told me that nothing 'must' happen, you should want it.
And while I agree with him to a certain extent, there are many aspects to my life that require me to just do it - things I must do (or my kids will live in squalor, starving and dirty and I certainly wouldn't be going to work).
And I have to support my husband even when he's being weird and stressed and hopeless, because I want him to do that for me when I feel like that, because we love each other dearly.
Sigh. 

When I was still in South Africa, in the conflict-free environment of my mother's house and a loving-adoring Son#3 to cuddle all the time, I contemplated taking a detour through Greece.
Just staying there until my credit card stopped working.  

I'm putting that intention out there, that someday, someone will say those words about me:
Yo's gone to Capri and she ain't coming back.
Ever.


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C'est Le Weekend: Hamba Kahle Madiba & Sinterklaas

Yesterday, Sinterklaas came, conquered 3 boys with lots of (cheap-o) gifts, and left again.
Halle-bleeding-lujah.
I can honestly vouch that Sinterklaas & PMS don't go together.
Not in the least.

Then, this morning I looked at the news and saw that Mandela had died last night.  
I was never a great fan - he ordered bombings in the 1980s after all;  the military wing of the ANC, which Mandela had founded, performed necklacings with burning car tires (of which I saw a video in the late 1980s at a friend-with-a-father-in-the-secret-services' house - it made me physically sick), torturing dissidents in Angola - doesn't that make him a terrorist??
In his later years - post-prison, he became a bit of a sweet pussycat, as most men do.
And he wrote some nice things, meaningful quotes.
Every life has merit.

The only thing I worry about is the fragile peace that exists in South Africa, and whether it will continue now that Mandela has died.
In Africa, tempers and hatred flare up quickly.

Here the weather has taken a turn towards Winter.
It produces beautiful sunrises though.

The boys only went to school at 10 this morning, as per the school's instructions.
Son#2 has to go to swimming lessons this afternoon, and #1 to rugby tonight.

Tonight, Sinterklaas is leaving again for Spain (praise our lucky stars).
Hamba Kahle, Sinterklaas.
And Hamba Kahle, dear reader.
Hope it will be a good weekend.

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The 3 Stooges

Here they are then:  

The good, the bad and the ugly (in random and ever changing order).

#3 and I are home this morning.

We're about to eat breakfast and then we might drive to Breda to return a red dress that makes me look like a badly stuffed Frankfurter.

Nothing like the holiday season to make one revert to clingy red clothes.

Sigh.

I'm phoning my mother later, and my friend Elma.

And then I'll be sending prayers up into the universe to let evening come quickly tonight.

I'm kind of tired.

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6 Steps to a mindful argument

1. Stop talking
2. Inhale
3. Exhale
4. Listen
5. Smile
6. Repeat as needed

Because when you stop arguing, the argument stops.

(Thank you, Karen Maezen Miller, and you, the good husband, for my pep-talk this morning.
I feel ready to face the day) 

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The Long Day

I have a long day ahead at work.
A meeting for the entire faculty, listening to speeches that do not pertain to me in the least.
Then a study afternoon that I tried to worm out of, to no avail.

I'm not lazy.
I'm just struggling to stay interested.

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Rugby, and then it was Sunday

The husband has gone and left us on this gorgeous sunny Sunday, to go to yet another tennis tournament in Apeldoorn.
He'll only be back tonight.

Now it's eleven in the morning, and My Three Sons and I are all still in our pajamas and we're planning to stay like this for the better part of the day.

Son#1 had his first rugby tournament yesterday, and they won 3 of the 4 games.
Strangely, for someone who hates organized sports, I turned into a maniacal cheerer on the sidelines.  
Who would have thought?

The 3 buggers and I will be baking cupcakes to honour Sinterklaas today.
And if I hear ONE more Sinterklaas-song, my head may just start spinning like the Exorcist's.
Son#1 has finally started doubting whether Sinterklaas exists or not, but I'm hoping to stall him until after 5 December, when the kids get presents from Sinterklaas and his cohorts (the Black Peters).
Then we'll sit down with him and have it out.

One of my father's cousins died in a car accident this week.
He was only 50.

Last night the husband and I filled the boys' shoes with small gifts (another Sinterklaas tradition:  leaving your shoe out with something for Sinterklaas in it, then 'Sinterklaas' leaves a small gift - except that Son#2 found the carrots in the dustbin, that they'd left in their shoes last night and I had to lie my way out of it).
It struck me that this would be the last time:  By next year, Son#1 will no longer believe in Sinterklaas.
Life goes by so fast.  
What we believe and hold onto disappears in a flash.
Precious, precious stuff.

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