I'm exhausted. Today was International Day at school. It's a day when we celebrate all of the diverse cultures at St Margaret's through the sharing of food. Lots of food. There were three tables of Carribean specialities from fried plantain to jerk chicken and some rice and dessert dishes that I've never seen before. One of the Chinese families owns a restaurant and they always provide a good spread. We also had German, French, Norwegian, Canadian, Australian and various African countries represented. And of course America, though this year the US offerings were a little sparse because I've been so busy with other things. I made two key lime pies and another family who lived in the States for five years provided pancakes with maple syrup. I was fine with my two pies until I looked at the photo album that they compiled for the previous International Day. Last year I got a whole page of the album with my key lime and buttermilk pies, BBQ hot wings, pastrami on rye sandwiches and Hershey's Kisses. I'll have to make up for my laziness next year.
I did also contribute by doing the face painting. We paint little flags on the children's cheeks or the backs of their hands. Unfortunately, a poster entitled Flags of the World was provided and the children would choose the most elaborate flags! You trying painting the flag of Kenya with an inch wide brush. I did my best and the children were happy and full of delicious food so it was a huge success.
I do love St Margaret's. It's not a perfect school but there are so many lovely families there and I think it'll prepare Toby and Rosie well for secondary school. I've made lots of friends through the school too. In fact, a group of us got together last night for a drink at the Hare & Billet... which could be another reason why I'll be getting an early night tonight.
Next it's the school disco. We've always missed this because we went to the US the last two years. This year we'll be attending and the children are so excited. I'm putting together a musical quiz for the parents and helping out on the night. Hopefully I'll get a chance to boogie too. Such a perfect opportunity to embarrass the children.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
Mid-life crisis (yes, another post about getting older)
I posted a while back about Jason entering the great cliche of a mid-life crisis. He already bought the sports car, thank god there's still no sign of a twenty-something secretarial affair. It's not all just silly stuff though. There's a lot of angst, a lot of introspection, a lot of exhausting reassessment and now I've caught it too.
Of course, me being me, I want to attack this thing head on. I want to define it, understand it, work it out. Wallowing is not allowed (except in small doses). I've been googling this morning and one thing that I've learned is that this middle life pause is nothing new and certainly not unique to us. There are shelves of self-help books on the subject, loads of websites (some unintentionally very funny) and lots of advice on ways to cope with your mid-life crisis and your spouse's mid-life crisis. Worryingly, a number of these articles are linked to other articles with titles like "Surviving your partner's infidelity" and "Putting your life back together after divorce". Scary stuff.
I've also looked into literature, art and music and it seems like many creative people did their best work in later life. In their youth the work flowed, then there was a time of struggle before a new phase of creativity which had more depth and meaning. This is good to know. Of course, I'm no great artist nor do I think I will ever be. In fact, my biggest struggle is the fact that I have everything I've ever wanted. Now what?
And this too is not unique. It's the modern 'affluenza'. People are achieving their goals earlier in life and then they don't know what to do with themselves. They have the material goals, the job success, the family, the home. And then what happens next? I have no idea but I'm trying to see it as an exciting prospect rather than a terrifying one.
Another common symptom of this stage of life is looking around and realising that what you thought you wanted isn't actually what you want at all. Or realising that what you've worked so hard to achieve doesn't live up to the initial goal or dream. One problem I'm facing is an old schoolmate who has a pretty amazing life. Her life functions on a completely different level as far as money, celebrity and glamour. On paper, she has much of what I had dreamed for myself in my wildest dreams. I can't help it, I compare myself to her and I feel a sense of disappointment. I'm glossing over a lot of details as far as how she achieved this lifestyle. But just looking at the surface I can see that her life takes a lot of work to maintain and living like that would take away from the things that I think are important like consistent time with the children. I think the thing is deciding what's important to me, what makes me happy and not comparing myself or my achievements to anyone else.
So what is important to me? What makes me happy? When I ask myself these questions it only underlines the fact that I have a lovely life and should be wallowing in happiness and satisfaction and not worrying about what someone I knew twenty years ago is doing. And I think that therein lies the heart of the matter. My life is fine, it's my perception of my life that needs work. It's all in my head. If anyone said that to me I would be tempted to punch them in the mouth, but I wonder if it's true. We have everything we need and lots of things we just want. We have friends, family and each other. Maybe all this navel-gazing is just a self indulgent time wasting psycho wank. Hmm, something else to think about.
Of course, me being me, I want to attack this thing head on. I want to define it, understand it, work it out. Wallowing is not allowed (except in small doses). I've been googling this morning and one thing that I've learned is that this middle life pause is nothing new and certainly not unique to us. There are shelves of self-help books on the subject, loads of websites (some unintentionally very funny) and lots of advice on ways to cope with your mid-life crisis and your spouse's mid-life crisis. Worryingly, a number of these articles are linked to other articles with titles like "Surviving your partner's infidelity" and "Putting your life back together after divorce". Scary stuff.
I've also looked into literature, art and music and it seems like many creative people did their best work in later life. In their youth the work flowed, then there was a time of struggle before a new phase of creativity which had more depth and meaning. This is good to know. Of course, I'm no great artist nor do I think I will ever be. In fact, my biggest struggle is the fact that I have everything I've ever wanted. Now what?
And this too is not unique. It's the modern 'affluenza'. People are achieving their goals earlier in life and then they don't know what to do with themselves. They have the material goals, the job success, the family, the home. And then what happens next? I have no idea but I'm trying to see it as an exciting prospect rather than a terrifying one.
Another common symptom of this stage of life is looking around and realising that what you thought you wanted isn't actually what you want at all. Or realising that what you've worked so hard to achieve doesn't live up to the initial goal or dream. One problem I'm facing is an old schoolmate who has a pretty amazing life. Her life functions on a completely different level as far as money, celebrity and glamour. On paper, she has much of what I had dreamed for myself in my wildest dreams. I can't help it, I compare myself to her and I feel a sense of disappointment. I'm glossing over a lot of details as far as how she achieved this lifestyle. But just looking at the surface I can see that her life takes a lot of work to maintain and living like that would take away from the things that I think are important like consistent time with the children. I think the thing is deciding what's important to me, what makes me happy and not comparing myself or my achievements to anyone else.
So what is important to me? What makes me happy? When I ask myself these questions it only underlines the fact that I have a lovely life and should be wallowing in happiness and satisfaction and not worrying about what someone I knew twenty years ago is doing. And I think that therein lies the heart of the matter. My life is fine, it's my perception of my life that needs work. It's all in my head. If anyone said that to me I would be tempted to punch them in the mouth, but I wonder if it's true. We have everything we need and lots of things we just want. We have friends, family and each other. Maybe all this navel-gazing is just a self indulgent time wasting psycho wank. Hmm, something else to think about.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Getting old, for real now
I've noticed a new topic of discussion among friends lately. It's not something that's ever really crossed my mind before. Well, it probably crossed my mind but it didn't stop for tea and a long ponder until lately. The topic is the dreaded menopause. The Change and all it's little sidekicks like HRT (that's hormone replacement therapy for you young 'uns), body hair, hot flashes and the drying up of mucous membranes. Yea, I didn't say it was a pretty topic but it is becoming more and more topical as time goes on.
I've had a terrible sinus infection for the last two weeks. When I visited the doctor he asked if I'd had them before and when I said that I had started having them recently he nodded in a knowing way. He was writing out a prescription for antibiotics, which is like gold dust at our surgery, so I just let the matter slip rather than interrupt his writing with a question. I might say something wrong, he would reassess the diagnosis and I would end up going home with the recommendation of steaming my sinuses with fresh mint leaves but no real drugs to make me well. It has happened before. I'm American. I believe in heavy drugs so I noticed the nod but didn't query it.
Later I was chatting to a friend, another mum about the same age, and she said that she had started getting sinus infections too. She looked into it and discovered that sinus infections are common in women in the their late 30s and early 40s and can become chronic until the menopause. Fantastic.
I mentioned this to another friend while standing in the school playground waiting for the children to come out. She gave the same knowing nod that I saw at the doctor's surgery and used the cringe-worthy term - 'gummy mucous membranes'. Apparently it's a sign that hormones are changing, the need for nice wet slippery mucous is decreasing so things are getting a bit thicker... in those areas of the body where... well, you know. It's all leading up to the menopause. There's that word again.
Then on Facebook, a girl I went to school with wrote a note about her recent hysterectomy. When I read the words I gasped. Oh my God! She can't have any more children! How awful! What a terrible thing to go through at such a young age! But no. I then started reading comments from other women, all of them in the US, and lots of them had had hysterectomies BY CHOICE. The idea seems to be to just skip all the irregular periods and cut to the chase by whipping it all out. Well, not always all. There were comments about keeping the ovaries and just removing the womb, the benefits of keyhole surgery rather than an incision and whether to have HRT or not. I read these comments with my mouth hanging open. Is it really normal now to just decide to have major surgery to avoid a few months of inconvenience?? That seems so bizarre.
And then yet another friend brought up the subject of The Change over coffee. She's against HRT but is open to more natural remedies like some kind of yam cream you rub on your forearms. Oh great, so not only will I grow a mustache but I'm going to smell of yams. It's amazing how knowledgeable women are on the subject. I feel like I need to start educating myself. I've just been skipping along - tra la la - thinking it will happen 'one day' but not really anytime soon. From the state of my sinuses I wonder if I should be more concerned. And there is the lingering question of whether or not to have that third baby... The clock is ticking.
I've had a terrible sinus infection for the last two weeks. When I visited the doctor he asked if I'd had them before and when I said that I had started having them recently he nodded in a knowing way. He was writing out a prescription for antibiotics, which is like gold dust at our surgery, so I just let the matter slip rather than interrupt his writing with a question. I might say something wrong, he would reassess the diagnosis and I would end up going home with the recommendation of steaming my sinuses with fresh mint leaves but no real drugs to make me well. It has happened before. I'm American. I believe in heavy drugs so I noticed the nod but didn't query it.
Later I was chatting to a friend, another mum about the same age, and she said that she had started getting sinus infections too. She looked into it and discovered that sinus infections are common in women in the their late 30s and early 40s and can become chronic until the menopause. Fantastic.
I mentioned this to another friend while standing in the school playground waiting for the children to come out. She gave the same knowing nod that I saw at the doctor's surgery and used the cringe-worthy term - 'gummy mucous membranes'. Apparently it's a sign that hormones are changing, the need for nice wet slippery mucous is decreasing so things are getting a bit thicker... in those areas of the body where... well, you know. It's all leading up to the menopause. There's that word again.
Then on Facebook, a girl I went to school with wrote a note about her recent hysterectomy. When I read the words I gasped. Oh my God! She can't have any more children! How awful! What a terrible thing to go through at such a young age! But no. I then started reading comments from other women, all of them in the US, and lots of them had had hysterectomies BY CHOICE. The idea seems to be to just skip all the irregular periods and cut to the chase by whipping it all out. Well, not always all. There were comments about keeping the ovaries and just removing the womb, the benefits of keyhole surgery rather than an incision and whether to have HRT or not. I read these comments with my mouth hanging open. Is it really normal now to just decide to have major surgery to avoid a few months of inconvenience?? That seems so bizarre.
And then yet another friend brought up the subject of The Change over coffee. She's against HRT but is open to more natural remedies like some kind of yam cream you rub on your forearms. Oh great, so not only will I grow a mustache but I'm going to smell of yams. It's amazing how knowledgeable women are on the subject. I feel like I need to start educating myself. I've just been skipping along - tra la la - thinking it will happen 'one day' but not really anytime soon. From the state of my sinuses I wonder if I should be more concerned. And there is the lingering question of whether or not to have that third baby... The clock is ticking.
Monday, May 04, 2009
Second-hand house
I heard a new term on Facebook today. One of my 'friends' (aka someone I have never met in real life but is a friend of someone I went to school with but don't really rmemeber very well) just moved house and was complaining about the toilets. She said that if she ever bought a 'used house' again she would make them replace the toilets because using someone else's toilet is disgusting.
First off, this made me laugh. I mean, a 'used house'? As if a house isn't a permanent structure to be lived in by different people and families through the years. What's the alternative? Everyone building new houses? What happens when someone wants or needs to move? Or dies? Does the used house just remain empty or does it get torn down so someone else can build yet another house on the spot? It's like disposable housing. Scary but a weird possibility with the disposable society that we're becoming.
First off, this made me laugh. I mean, a 'used house'? As if a house isn't a permanent structure to be lived in by different people and families through the years. What's the alternative? Everyone building new houses? What happens when someone wants or needs to move? Or dies? Does the used house just remain empty or does it get torn down so someone else can build yet another house on the spot? It's like disposable housing. Scary but a weird possibility with the disposable society that we're becoming.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
I can't believe it's been so long
It's been ages since I wrote a blog entry, but I've been spending more and more time on Facebook. It's so immediate and I can send updates from my phone. Actually, I could probably do that on blogger. I should look into it.
Over six weeks since I updated.... let's see, the biggest thing that happened is that we all went to Egypt. The children get two weeks off from school for Easter and we spent a week in Cairo. It was wonderful and exhausting. I've wanted to go since I was a child so it was a dream trip. The cultural difference were a bit tiring by the end - the begging, the tipping, the attention that the children received everywhere we went. At first it was lovely to have people commenting on how beautiful Toby and Rosie. Rosie especially got lots of attention, people stopping to kiss her or photograph her or have their photo taken with her. It was like being with a movie star. In fact in Khan el Khalilli market the traders were calling her 'movie star' or 'Shakira' (the blonde, belly-dancing singer). By the end of the week Jason and I were both on edge. It was getting overwhelming.
We went to see the pyramids twice, once in the evening and once in the morning. They are amazing. We went into the heart of the Great Pyramid right to the tomb at the centre. It was incredible. Such a steep climb and obviously very stuffy. Half of the climb we had to stoop over, even Tobes couldn't stand upright and there was a bit where you had to crawl through a small space on your hands and knees. I'm not usually claustrophobic but it did start to get to me and I had to sit down in a dark corner and pull myself together. I did manage to catch my breath and calm down and thank god I did. I don't know how they would've gotten me out of there if I'd had a panic attack or passed out.
Back in London we spent the rest of the break seeing friends and going up to Cambridge for the day. Now the children are back at school, spring has sprung and we've been enjoying the sunshine.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Still grieving
In the last few weeks two of my friends have had miscarriages, the most recent one today at 12 weeks into the pregnancy. My heart aches for them. It's made me think of my own miscarriages and I've been surprised that I still have tears left to shed for them.
Part of me is sensible and pragmatic. I know the facts. Miscarriage is usually a fluke and for the best. The embryos most likely had serious chromosome faults and simply couldn't survive. It's no one's fault.
Then there's the other part of me, the mother part, that just feels the loss. It's a strange kind of grief because I haven't lost someone that I knew. I have no memories, no keepsakes. I grieve for a dream. For something that might have been. I mourn for the child and I also grieve for the chance to know him or her. To hold them. To smell them. To know if they liked music, if they looked like me or Jason.
There's also a terrible sense of failure that can go with a miscarriage. As a parent your first concern is protecting your children from harm. To know that the tiny beginnings of a baby couldn't survive inside of me, in the most protective environment that I have to offer, that feels like failing them at the first hurdle and in the worst possible way.
I've cried a lot tonight. For my friends, for myself and for the little souls that didn't quite make it. Tomorrow I'll feel better. It's been almost five years since my miscarriages and today I've been surprised how much sadness I still have for those losses. Most days I don't even think about it anymore and in January, on the date when the first child would've been born, this year for the first time I didn't stop and calculate how old they would've been and imagine what they might've been like. I'm too busy with the children that I do have and I'm so grateful that I have them.
Tonight I'm thinking about my friends who are at the beginning of this awful grief. I know that eventually they'll make peace with it as I have but my heart goes out to them tonight.
Part of me is sensible and pragmatic. I know the facts. Miscarriage is usually a fluke and for the best. The embryos most likely had serious chromosome faults and simply couldn't survive. It's no one's fault.
Then there's the other part of me, the mother part, that just feels the loss. It's a strange kind of grief because I haven't lost someone that I knew. I have no memories, no keepsakes. I grieve for a dream. For something that might have been. I mourn for the child and I also grieve for the chance to know him or her. To hold them. To smell them. To know if they liked music, if they looked like me or Jason.
There's also a terrible sense of failure that can go with a miscarriage. As a parent your first concern is protecting your children from harm. To know that the tiny beginnings of a baby couldn't survive inside of me, in the most protective environment that I have to offer, that feels like failing them at the first hurdle and in the worst possible way.
I've cried a lot tonight. For my friends, for myself and for the little souls that didn't quite make it. Tomorrow I'll feel better. It's been almost five years since my miscarriages and today I've been surprised how much sadness I still have for those losses. Most days I don't even think about it anymore and in January, on the date when the first child would've been born, this year for the first time I didn't stop and calculate how old they would've been and imagine what they might've been like. I'm too busy with the children that I do have and I'm so grateful that I have them.
Tonight I'm thinking about my friends who are at the beginning of this awful grief. I know that eventually they'll make peace with it as I have but my heart goes out to them tonight.
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
Jason, come home!
We're into Week 2 of Jason's marathon business trip and the cracks are starting to show. The first week was OK. The weekend was fine. Sunday night it all started to go downhill. Rosie woke up around midnight with a high fever. It got up to 104F (40C) at one point. If I had been less tired I think I would've been frantic. Calpol didn't get it down after an hour so I gave her some Nurofen then waited. Around 2.30am she cooled down and we both went back to sleep, then repeated the whole performance at 4.00am.
Rosie had just fallen back to sleep at 7.30am when it was time to get up and get Toby ready for school. I didn't want to wake Rosie so I asked a a friend across the street if Toby could walk to school with her and her three daughters. Toby was not best pleased with the arrangement. Apparently he didn't say one word all the way to school. He's such a shy boy.
We had an up and down day with Rosie's fever yesterday but managed to drive out to pick Tobes up from school. I made arrangements for someone else to take the minutes of the PTA meeting last night, which I was supposed to attend and called off the babysitter. Rosie wouldn't eat anything at dinnertime and we had another feverish sleepless night. I had already made up my mind to take her to the doctor today but just to seal the deal, she started throwing up at 6am.
I managed to get Tobes ready for school and loaded Rosie into the car with a towel over her knees and a bowl in her lap, just in case. We dropped Tobes off with Jo on the playground then drove into the village. I decided that I really REALLY needed a coffee so I parked illegally in front of Costa and left Rosie in the car while I stumbled in for my usual soya iced latte. I was wearing Jason's sweatshirt with no make-up and wet hair and must've looked like death because the guys asked what was wrong. I told them about Rosie and Jason being away then stumbled back out to the car and chased off a parking attendant who was trying to give me a ticket.
Now we're back home waiting for the glazier to come and put in Indy's cat door. They were supposed to come last Tuesday and didn't show up. Then failed to show on Thursday, so this is their last chance. But that's a whole other story of frustration.
Rosie has her doctor's appointment this afternoon and I have a stack of vomitous laundry to do today. I also can't remember the last time I gave Toby a bath... poor boy is suffering from lack of attention. We did have a nice cuddle last night while he read his school book though. Must bathe him tonight. I like it when he smells like a puppy but maybe not the best thing for school.
UPDATE: The glazier came and we have a cat flap! Downside is that I was told we need to have the door planed down because it sticks. With the hole in the glass for the catflap there's a chance the glass will crack if the door twists. Good lord. if it's not one thing it's another.
Rosie had just fallen back to sleep at 7.30am when it was time to get up and get Toby ready for school. I didn't want to wake Rosie so I asked a a friend across the street if Toby could walk to school with her and her three daughters. Toby was not best pleased with the arrangement. Apparently he didn't say one word all the way to school. He's such a shy boy.
We had an up and down day with Rosie's fever yesterday but managed to drive out to pick Tobes up from school. I made arrangements for someone else to take the minutes of the PTA meeting last night, which I was supposed to attend and called off the babysitter. Rosie wouldn't eat anything at dinnertime and we had another feverish sleepless night. I had already made up my mind to take her to the doctor today but just to seal the deal, she started throwing up at 6am.
I managed to get Tobes ready for school and loaded Rosie into the car with a towel over her knees and a bowl in her lap, just in case. We dropped Tobes off with Jo on the playground then drove into the village. I decided that I really REALLY needed a coffee so I parked illegally in front of Costa and left Rosie in the car while I stumbled in for my usual soya iced latte. I was wearing Jason's sweatshirt with no make-up and wet hair and must've looked like death because the guys asked what was wrong. I told them about Rosie and Jason being away then stumbled back out to the car and chased off a parking attendant who was trying to give me a ticket.
Now we're back home waiting for the glazier to come and put in Indy's cat door. They were supposed to come last Tuesday and didn't show up. Then failed to show on Thursday, so this is their last chance. But that's a whole other story of frustration.
Rosie has her doctor's appointment this afternoon and I have a stack of vomitous laundry to do today. I also can't remember the last time I gave Toby a bath... poor boy is suffering from lack of attention. We did have a nice cuddle last night while he read his school book though. Must bathe him tonight. I like it when he smells like a puppy but maybe not the best thing for school.
UPDATE: The glazier came and we have a cat flap! Downside is that I was told we need to have the door planed down because it sticks. With the hole in the glass for the catflap there's a chance the glass will crack if the door twists. Good lord. if it's not one thing it's another.
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