C'est Le Weekend: And so we exhaaaaaale...

Somehow being busy, creates an energy that spurs me on to actually get a helluva lot of things done.
Energy seems to beget energy, after all.

The husband had a work dinner last night, prompting me to shove the kids in the Vollie (as the boys have dubbed our old-new-Volvo), and drive to Ikea to stuff our faces with cheap food and ice cream.
After a shouting-session on the highway, we were all well-behaved, and calm too, even after we returned home.
In the car on the way home, all 3 boys were practicing pick-up lines:
Son#2 can wiggle his eyebrows and say 'Hey there, chicky' like a boss.
The husband will be so proud.

Anyway.
I read stories to boys in beds, and then started studying.
Love it.
Lovelovelove it.
I know of only one friend who loves studying too, but that's it.
Other people have other hobbies.
I should make more time to attend to mine.

But getting things done is enormously gratifying, and that's a good feeling.
I'm just aiming for good feelings this weekend:  'productive', 'energetic' and 'at peace'.
Will avoid any and all categories of 'angry', 'despondent', 'unhappy' and 'useless'.

After a freak-out start of the week, I'm exhaling.
Monday will look after Monday again.
I just want to enjoy today.

And that will include lots of couch sitting, coffee drinking and hugging Son#3, who is especially cute today.
Even my whammy of a flu that I've been dragging around all week, won't get me down.
Deep, contented sigh.

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Words to Live By

On this Thursday Morning.

I have a loooong appointment with an external employment expert who will assess whether I've done everything in my power to get better and not be a bloody burden to the company.

(I sure am planning on telling her that if the company didn't work me to the bone in the first place, as they did, I would certainly have been able to handle the nearly 7 years of no sleep, or my dad getting ill, or the husband's midlife crisis or my 3-read-the-manual-kids, whilst trying to realize some ambitions of my own.)

Just saying.

Which reminds me of a manual for a sewing machine I once read.
It said:

This machine should not be operated by idiots.

I'm not kidding.
Wish someone gave me a manual with those words in the hospital's delivery room.
Or when I started teaching at this university.

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New Art

Got it from the Kunstuitleen (institutions in the Nether Lands where you can borrow art from fairly well-known artists, paying a small fee every month).

We're well-chuffed with Paul van Zoelen's splash of colour on the walls.

Finally something other than my own paintings in shades of drab and blah.

And then my favourite:

A Piet Fioole.

I love it, but I don't know why.

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One

One hour of sleep is what I had last night, mulling about students taking liberties, all the things that need to get done.

Desperate attempts at organization of my work are being made.
Pretty soon, we'll be switching to flex work positions - no more own office with pictures of my family, piles of mess and stacks of books, where, as if by magic, I know where everything is.
I'm setting up a home office, a new filing system to organize myself and my work once and for all.
Deep sigh.

Tonight we're having breakfast for dinner - baked eggs, baked beans and toast.
No need to complicate life.
And I'm going to bed very, very early.
Bliss.



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Pulling myself along

The day has been hectic so far, but productive.

I've prepared for this week's classes, and some of next week's as well.

My to-do lists are clear, and that's already a helluvan accomplishment.

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Mmmmmm again

And so we end another week.
Tomorrow is the first day of the academic quarter.
Mmmm.

We went to pick Son#2 up from the in-laws' this afternoon.
My mother-in-law told us how they had had an altercation, and how she pulled him up from under the table, marching him to bed.
I didn't like that at all.
I appreciate that they looked after him, but I don't want them fighting with my kids.
Other than that, the weekend had gone well - Son#2, super loving, gave them kisses and hugs to oblivion and back.
My in-laws had been looking up my family tree on the internet as well, and I don't know why or what is wrong with me, but I didn't like that either.
I don't want to talk about my dad, and I don't want to talk about how my mother is doing. 
I can appreciate their interest, don't get me wrong.
But I don't like it.

We got home, and put the boys to bed.
I'm having tea, then following the kids' example and turning in.

Tomorrow is busy:  I have 4 hours to fill with my own voice, but I feel kind of sick and sad.
The husband is grumpy too, and short with the kids, and that makes me feel even more sad and lonesome.
Oh well.
Tomorrow will be better, right?.


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C'est Le Weekend: Odd one out

The work weekend, so far, could have survived without my input.
I have nothing to say here, and pretending to listen to planned projects on sustainable energy and mathematics, is not my thing, and is the topic of discussion as I write.

Tonight a dinner with all my colleagues.
Free food, and good humour.
And it is gorgeous here, somewhere close to Nijmegen (I think).
I just followed the navigation.
I miss proper maps.
The Volvo survived the trip so far, and I listened to nice music, driving along the dykes dotted with castles and ruins.

Tomorrow, home.

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In Flight

Frankly, I'm swamped.
Tomorrow morning, I'm leaving early for my work weekend.

I'm worried about the husband - the slightest exertion and he turns white as a sheet and needs to lie down.
Mmmm.
That damn rash hasn't disappeared either.
Whatever it is, it got him goooood. 

I read stories to Son#1 and #2 tonight.
No fighting or animosity.
Each taking turns to 'blow the story out' - literally blowing/spitting on myself and the book, as only kids can.
Son#2 is spending the weekend at my in-laws, and I'm sneaking back home on Saturday.
Most of the work will be done by then, and I still need to prepare for work on Monday.

Now:  Tea, blow-dry my hair and pray to all the gods that I won't look like someone named 'Bubba' with an  Afro, then paracetomol and bed.
Because in the meantime, I've turned out to be quite tired.


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Sojourn up North

Paleis het Loo was, is, gorgeous.
The quiet, wooded elegance of the Northern part of the Netherlands.
Here in the south, the landscape is flat, barren at times, lots of agriculture.

It took me almost an hour and a half to drive there, but it was fine.
I listened to the news, to the quiet.
All good.

A beautiful walk from the main entrance to the palace.
These are only the stables...

Then, coffee in a sumptuous cafe, replete with crystal chandeliers and friendly service.
I studied a bit, theories on organized crime, then people-watching.

On to the palace itself.  

If I can give you any advice at all, it would be to get the damn audio guide for €3.
I didn't have any cash on me (and would have been too much of a cheapskate anyway), and sadly enough, the museum only tells you about the pieces and art on display, not really the historical significance of every room.
So you end up seeing a lot of stuff, but don't KNOW anything about it.
Mmmmmm. 

There's a park as well, which is free, but I didn't go there because of the rotten weather and sheer laziness.
And they were ripping up the gorgeous box garden to the back of the palace, which was something I was keen to see.
I have a thing with box, or buxus sempervirens.
Mine all seem to die.

A walk back to the car along a wooded lane.

But I did get myself Jacques Tange cups and plates, a modern Delft blue version, and gorgeous.

Today is cold.
The husband is sick and depressed.
Son#1 is not doing well at school, putting no effort into his Cito tests (tests done every school year, nationally, to determine a child's level, starting at age 4...  ridiculous if you ask me).
His teacher told me he finishes his work in 15 minutes instead of the hour it takes all the other kids, that he's pig-headed (we know that), and that he scored the lowest of all the kids in a geography test, despite knowing the stuff by heart.
The teacher threw in nuances like 'which things will you find in towns, especially?'
He tripped over the nuance. 
We have a meeting next week.
Sigh.

I'm just going to drink coffee in my nice cups, and watch Baby TV with Son#3.
Keep it simple, that's my motto.
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Despite

So, despite a FULL day's work yesterday, all the stress ranging from other lecturers planning their exams over my exams to a too full timetable (again), grinding my teeth to the point of headache, I've decided to say 'Bugger that' and I'm going to Paleis het Loo today.

I spoke to my mom last night, and just someone helping you think about your boundaries, made me feel better and more in control of my life.
I brainstormed, as per my mother's instructions.
It was useful.
This morning, I've been putting my brainstorm-session of last night into practice.  

The fact is, that the new academic quarter is starting on Monday next week, and I haven't prepared anything for it.
I mean, ANYTHING.

I'll just have to wing it as I go along, but I've made a good overview of what needs to be done, methinks.
It's like someone pressed the 'delete'-button to everything prior to January 2013.
Sigh.

So an hour's work this morning (I've already written two information booklets this morning) , then I'm off to see splendor and palaces, gardens and a completely different environment that will get me away from me, for a wee bit.
 

Amen, Samuel Beckett.
Life will possibly never be completely stress-free, and that's just that.


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Rrrrrrrr!

Oi vey.

It's going to be a busy week.
The husband is still sick, poor thing.
I have exams to invigilate today, stuff to mark, grades to process.

On Tuesday, I'm selfishly going to Paleis het Loo, mainly to go sniff around their gift shop, harhar, and of course to look at all the displays, silently unmolested, no child to pull off the queen's bed.
Wish the husband could go with me, though.

But on Friday, we have a team weekend again, like last year, but this time closer to home.
Friday is a full work day then, but on Saturday I'd like to go home again.
I'll have to share a room with a colleague, and I don't want to.
At almost 40 years of age, I think I'm entitled to have my own space to snore and read in the middle of the night.
Sigh.
In a week's time, the next academic quarter starts again, and I haven't prepared anything.
This pressure tripped me up last year as well.
B-b-b-b-b-b-b-breeeeathe.
Just breathe.


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Every day, we learn

Son#1, caught red-handed, chatting on the internet with a stranger.
We discovered an array of pornographic stuff that the inquisitive boy looked at.
Search terms in Google, that make your toes curl with anguish.
This boy has questions - lots of them - about sex:  Stuff he heard at school, it seems.

We were too trusting.
We should have checked up on him more, and as my mother said, we can't make him un-see what his eyes have now seen.

I had a talk with him about sex yesterday.
I'm such a prude, I'm not sure I did it right, but he did come with questions this morning, and I answered them.
Oh boy.

The husband put massive parental filters on the computer, but for now, no child of mine will be playing on the computer.
Especially not after my guest lecturer last week, telling us what a terribly common phenomenon 'grooming' is.
When you're a parent, you'd better not be naive.

Sigh.


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C'est Le Weekend: Mismatched

We just walked back in after an attempt to get dressed by the hairdresser.  
She doesn't take appointments, so it's hit-and-run.
This was too much for Son#1:  an inflexible mind had him in tantrumic tears outside the hairdresser's after I asked him to tie his shoelaces.
Sigh.
Sometimes I wonder at the forces in the universe that put the 2 of us together.
What is it that I have to learn here?
Some flexibility on my part as well?
Patience?
More unconditional love?

We've had a busy week.
On Thursday I had a short dinner with a good friend.
Friday morning was filled in with a breakfast party at a neighbour's house.
Son#3 tagged along, and I had forgotten to bring clean nappies.
I dropped off a room deoderiser later.
Then, last night, rugby lessons for Son#1, #2 tagging along.
A sleepless night, why I don't know.

Meanwhile, my plate has been full - all the tasks that the husband and I share in terms of public jobs like dropping off kids/picking them up again etc., have been suspended.
The husband most probably has Sixth disease - a children's illness.
He feels lethargic, his body covered in a rash.
I feel so sorry for him - his discomfort must be immense.

I don't want to think about the coming week.
Just now.
Breathe.
Coffee.
And another attempt to see the hairdresser.

Sigh.

Reach out and Touch someone

Too strange, a friend from primary school, 31 long years ago, sent me a picture through Facebook.  
She was blowing out candles, I was eagerly looking on.

Then she sent an old school photo - all my friends then, many who still look the same.
(Me at the top, in the middle, with the large wavy fringe.  Cringe.)

And although I'm not crazy about Facebook - it's pure competitiveness and voyeurism after all -  being able to see what actually happened to the people who were important to me at one stage or another, is nice.
More than nice.

I'm at work for the morning.
One meeting ahead, then home again.
The husband has a viral infection, feels tired and got up numerous times during the night for Son#3 who has finally discovered his own will and is exerting it at every turn.
Ding, ding, ding!!
Roooooooound three.
It's a boxing match.

Phew.
Why did we think we could handle three kids??  Three Toddler-Hellish-Periods?  
Sigh.
Sigh.
Sigh.

Tut tut tut

It started raining yesterday in the afternoon.
I zipped from work to my work coach, then back to work waiting for the guest lecturer to arrive.
That went well, the guest lecture was super-interesting and shocking all at once, and I left work early, invigorated.

I drove around in my Volvo, and it is certainly different from my mini-van,  which was choke-less, easy clutched, smooth pull-aways.
Now my calf muscles are working trying to shift gears, but I love it.
I hope it drives us around carefully for a long, long time.
And I love the summer-iness of the colour:  sunny yellow in a sea of grey and black.

I came home to cook dinner, and phoned my mom.
Her days are quiet.
She reads a lot.
But, let's see how that goes, like I read the other day.
Words that bring comfort.

Now I have a kid to clean, Son#3 to kiss and cuddle.
A day that stretches ahead but is filled with understanding and love.
Three enthusiastic boys that love joy-rides in our new-old car.
And a husband with a helluva allergic reaction - rash, itch, tired - to what we don't know.



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Sunny Days

The husband has sorted the insurance for the new car, which means that I'm officially allowed to drive around in it.
Hallelujah!

Today I have a meeting with my work coach, then a guest lecturer will come and talk about sexual crimes.
I have marking to do (barf barf, the worst part of teaching).

I look at my students and their lives that are still lying ahead of them.
All the things - good and bad - that they will still experience.
Some days I envy them, other days I don't.
For some it will go well, easy.
Others will have a rougher time.
But it's (luckily) difficult to predict which ones are in for a rough ride.
The sensitive ones have the worst prognosis.
Sigh.

But the sun is shining for now.
Even if the days are colder on sunny days, no clouds to blanket in the heat, I love it.
Bless you, Global Warming.
Keep doing what you're doing.
No snow is fine with me.


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Abnormal, the New Normal

We actually had a good weekend for a change.
Not enough sleep, but nonetheless, with the coming of our new Volvo, the rest of the weekend was glorious.

All 5 of us bundled into the new car on Saturday, to drive to the husband's family's annual get-together, smiles plastered on our faces.
It feels strange to an einzelganger like me, to belong to a group and to be accepted there.
The kids had fun, the husband had fun.
Hell, even I had fun.
Son#1 and #2 found an uncle's motorcycle helmets and spent the afternoon prancing around in them, much to the delight of the elderly aunts.
Son#3 with his angelic curls, stole the show by calling everyone 'losers' (which he learnt from his brothers).
My mother-in-law phoned later to tell us that our boys were a hit.
Old people seem to be easily pleased.
Sigh.

Now it's Monday morning again, and I'm almost off to my annual work review with my boss.
My body is stressed, I can feel it in my tense shoulders and a constant headache, but my mind less so.
I'm actually feeling fine.

I've been thinking a lot about my definition of 'normal' lately.
I'm not sure if there really is a definition, and if there is, that it is utterly arbitrary.
My normal ain't your normal.
My kids are normal - my normal - and interesting creatures they are.
My normal keeps changing.

What I do realize though, is that I like my kind of normal.
And in a country where I experience pressure to conform all the time, where people all fit into neat boxes, I appreciate this realization even more.
I like me just fine, thankyouverymuch.

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C'est Le Weekend: Diarrhea-cle Vehicle

Yes.
Today is the day that we pick up our new old car.
And it is indeed, having thought about it carefully, a lovely shade of diarrhea, as a faithful reader pointed out.

The husband and I picked out the music that would accompany us in the car, until I revert back to Cat Stevens again.
The kids are excited, and so are we.
Son#3 is ready for action, because cool glasses (albeit too small), must be worn in a cool car.

Just the usual, you know.

On Southern shores in South Africa, my mother is picking up my geriatric grandmother this morning.
We haven't had much contact with her over the years.
I worry about my mom, even when she would abhor the idea of me worrying.
I still do.

We all miss my father, and my mother misses him the most acutely of all of us.
I go to bed with him, and get up with him in the morning.
And as long as I don't think about it too deeply, I get through the day with no crying.
But, as I write, the faucets open.
I don't like this one bit and I want the world to go back to the way it was.
Childish, I know (at almost 40 years old), but my honest wish. 

I think my dad would have thought us completely mad to buy a 37-year-old car.  
But I hope it will make him smile, nonetheless.
We love you daddykins.

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Fisticuffs

Last night, dinner.
The husband came home in a bad mood, and scolded Son#2 and #3 for getting undressed down to their underpants.
When you're 5 and 2, you like to be naked.
Mmmm.
His bad mood landed on the wrong soil, so I left the dinner table early, told the male companions in the house to clean up, and lay down on my bed with a book and wine.

Later, Son#1 and #2 crawled into bed with me and we watched Rapunzel.
And by 21h30, I was sleeping like a baby.
There is only so much moping that I can handle.


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Hot Rod

It looks like this one:

We're probably getting it on Saturday, and I'm feeling excited!
It is obviously not as luxurious as my mini-van, but it has character, and character is good.

Plus, it's only costing €200, and that's sublime in my book.

This will be a year of character.

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Good Times

That's me, on the right, in my new dress.

It had a velvety sort of material, tiny little flowers, in shades of Early Eighties Brown.

Gorgeous collar, don't you think?

My hair, curly and blonde, refused to grow and I desperately wanted long hair.

I think it's before we built the pool.

When my dad got sick, I often thought of this photo.

I remember it vividly:  We were having a barbecue with uncle Tom, his daughters Bolly and Janine, his wife Janie.

My brother and mom.

My dad was cutting pieces of roasted steak, which we dipped in Aromat, and he patted me on the head.

That barbecue in the background was wonderful, it is still in the garden at my parents' house.

Built by my dad.

When I look at the photo, it doesn't look like my dad (in blue), but I clearly remember that attention:  feeling loved and like my dad was proud of me.

We had a talk with Son#2's wonderful teacher yesterday afternoon.

It's going well-ish with him at school, but his confidence is super low.

She suggested Judo as a possible solution.

Apparently, it helps confidence and motor skills to develop, both things that he needs.

I desperately want my boys to have confidence and to leave them knowing that I am truly proud of them, but I'm afraid I've done my own part in knocking that down.

Perhaps that constant guilt is just part of parenting.

Deep sigh.

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Multiple Myeloma (you bitch)

I miss my dad.

I miss him.

That's all I have to say on this cold, rainy Monday morning.

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St. Francis

Start by doing what's necessary; 

then do what's possible; 

and suddenly you are doing the impossible.

- St. Francis of Assisi 

Doing the impossible, like sleeping late yet again.
The husband is a god.
We're off to test drive a friend's mustard yellow Volvo 240, made in 1977.
It runs on gas, and that's a helluvalot cheaper than petrol that my mini-van slurps and gurgles.

Then, we'll pick up Son#1 and #2 at my recently-divorced-brother-in-law's.
Home.
Sleep.
And just like that, the Christmas Holiday is over again.

Tomorrow morning, early hours, Son#2 and I are off to the eye specialist.
A parent-teacher meeting in the afternoon, and inbetween I'll be lying on my bed.
Reading.
Being very, very quiet.

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One-Child Policy

I miss Son#1 and #2 as soon as they leave, but it is nice and quiet in the house with only #3 waltzing around.
We drove to the in-laws yesterday afternoon, but poor Son#2 was knackered after his swimming lessons and just an event-filled Christmas Holiday, that he threw a couple of mean tantrums, screaming like a banshee.
Poor bunny.
I miss them here this morning, though.
Sigh.

The husband let me sleep until 9h30, now we're dressed and ready to go.
The good, crafty husband is going to build a small wall behind our bed so we won't sleep under a beam anymore.
All 5 of us have banged our heads on that blooming beam more than once.

I'm going to support the husband by reading a lot today.
A calm wife = a happy husband.

Son#3 told me last night, beaming smile, that my dad wants to pick him up and kiss him.
And when I spoke to my mom earlier in the evening, she said that she was shocked, shocked, to realize that my father is dead, and the moment she said it, my heart clenched.
I've put it in a place where I can look at it or not, and when I look...
The knowledge devastates me.
Even now as I type this.
And my experience of this is not my mother's:  Her partner, best friend, is gone, and we don't know where.
My life is different, easier.
I have children to look after, a life on the other side of the planet.
I'm so sorry mom.
Xxxx


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C'est Le Weekend: Kundalini

A couple of years ago, I regularly attended Kundalini Yoga classes, which were great.
The lesson always ended with a meditation, then this song, then tea:

You might listen to it and think I'm off my rocker, but really, it's an Irish wish, and it felt wonderful listening to it in the dark after quiet meditation.
The husband thinks I'm a fruitcake.

I still drink the Yogi Classics tea, especially for the nifty messages that are printed on the tag.
Stuff like:  'Be kind to yourself' and 'Love is the Way'.

Think I'm getting myself Snatam Kaur's CD with my Christmas Bonus.
To drive to work with, and to have some hope.

Son#1 and #2 are spending the weekend at the in-laws'.
We're dropping them off after swimming lessons later.
Where my mother-in-law gets the energy from, I don't know...
They're my kids and it seems a daunting prospect to me!

Begin

We spent the night in Zeeland, in the quaintest bed & breakfast I've ever been in.

We took the boys for a pizza in Middelharnis, the only guests in the restaurant, back to the B&B then grudgingly stayed up until midnight, watching a cabaret on TV, playing a (children's) board game, sipping Clairette de Die.
Kissing at midnight.
Son#3 spent the night in bed with me, stroking my face and randomly kissing me.
If you're not going to sleep, then it's not a bad state of wakefulness.
The husband slept in Son#3's bedstead, bless.
Inevitably, the boys were raring to go at 6 in the morning.

(Son#3 found the dummy that his sentimental mother had stashed in a drawer, and decided to use it again.  It's gone again, bless the husband and his forcefulness).
 
In the morning, a hatch opened and as if by magic, a wondrous breakfast appeared.
We ate too much.
For an entire year, we ate too damn much.

A short drive through the countryside, then Son#3 and I fell asleep in the car.

Now it's Thursday again, and Son#3 has been dropped off at daycare, and #1 and #2 are almost off to the movies this morning.
I'm not doing New Year's resolutions this year.
Bugger that.
Nothing much has changed desire-wise since 31 December 2013.

We just begin, and hope for the best.
Happy new year, dear reader.
May it treat you infinitely well.
Luck be on your side.

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