The Christmas Letter

I have not been sending out a Christmas letter these last couple of years.  Mainly because everyone I know is either on Facebook, or has a relative on Facebook who will pass news on.  I recently got a Christmas letter from a friend who is NOT on Facebook and from whom we had not heard for a while, it was lovely to hear her news and catch up, so I am going to attempt to organise myself into doing a Christmas or New Year letter from 2012 onwards.

For now, here’s a short Christmas letter for all you wonderful people out there:

Dear Family, Friends and people I met once and added on Facebook but who’s status update gets lost amidst all the Farmville requests,

This year has been an exciting one for us, since our chickens learned to mow the lawn, and Tareka can now spend a lot more time working on perpetual motion machines.  The children are growing fast, Mapera has been reading James Joyce and understanding it, Kaitereo has been training to be a human cannonball and Hakopa has been learning how to fly by throwing himself at the ground and missing.

The house and land continue to thrive, we are growing an entirely new hybrid of tomato, cheese & breadfruit plant, so we can pick fresh sandwiches all through the spring.  The cows continue to be an endless source of entertainment, and one of them does a passably good impression of Eddie Izzard which kept me and some friends amused for hours one evening.

My parents, as most of you know, are heading to the Moon for their holidays, Mum will love the cold, and Dad is looking forward to some diving in the Sea of Tranquility.  My brother continues to mystify us by appearing in various shampoo commercials.

Tareka’s family is all good too, digging their way to London in time for the Olympics as we speak.  Looks like it will be quiet down here next year, hope you all have a wonderful Giftmas and begin the New Year with a series of unrealistic resolutions.

All our love and best wishes

Louise and the clan

xxx

Making a committment to committees

I have Helium Hand syndrome, I tend to volunteer far too much for things when I really ought not to.  I have been trying very hard to scale back my volunteering since I had child number 3, but I still managed to get myself on a local committee last year.  The AGM is looming, so I have made a decision to step down from the committee and hand the responsibilities to another poor soul worthy person, but I still feel a bit guilty, like I haven't done enough.

If I apply my Wise Brain to this problem, I can point out all the things I have done, all the events I have helped with, the fundraising I have done, the administration and the leg-work.  I know rationally that I have helped a lot more that some people and a lot less than others, and that is nothing to be ashamed of, but I also know that if I step down, the workload is likely to fall back onto someone who is already overloaded.

Herein lies the problems of committees.  The people who care enough to join a committee and make an effort are always the same people in any community, so you end up with half a dozen people trying to fundraise and work for a hundred committees while the rest of the community sit back and go "ooh I don't know how you have time!"

I am also getting to a stage of my life when there I just cannot be bothered with cliques, snippy comments and bitchy behaviour. I've worked hard through therapy to be able to speak my mind in a calm and reasonable way without feeling guilty or worrying about offending people, and I'll be damned if I am going to get caught up in catfights between grown adults who ought to know better.  If anyone reading this blog thinks I am writing about them, then more fool them.  If I have a problem with someone, I try to sort it out with them directly.  This post is a general rant about crappy behaviour in adults I know both online and in real life.

This is where social media can be a real problem too.  Internet message boards, Facebook, Twitter and their ilk are all too easy to post in without giving yourself time to calm down, think things through and behave like a rational adult.  Even if you immediately regret and delete your words, someone out there will have read them and got the hump about it.

I read in one of my internet cubby holes that before you post something when you're feeling angry or upset you should Think, Wait, Answer, Tenderly.
  Sooo, if you're angry about something, before you post online for the world to see, just take a moment and T.W.A.T. it.

One of the many things about parenting you are never warned about.

The Sneaky Hate Spiral.  This is part of child-rearing that you must learn to live with, avoid, manage or control.  You will do none of these things particularly effectively, and the Sneaky Hate Spiral (SHS) will inevitably take you down on a regular basis.

I am at the tail end of a SHS today.  I woke up to the sound of my kids arguing about who was going to go in to see the Grandparents first.  Then there was something wrong with breakfast, I can't quite remember exactly what it was, but something was different and wormed it's way into my subconscious to sit gloating and humming Rick Astly songs.

I had the morning off, which should have been lovely.  The girls were out with the grandparents and the baby played nicely then went off to bed.  I got some cleaning done, the vacuum cleaner made a noise that didn't harmonise with Rick Astly.  I tried to get my household accounts up to date, and got as far as entering amounts onto my spreadsheet, then the internet kept interrupting and was all "hey, haven't seen you today.  Watcha doing?" and I was all "I'm trying to work" and the internet kept tapping me on the shoulder going "how about this? Does this make you laugh? You wanna discuss the terrible state of parenting in this country? You wanna tell someone off for comma misuse?"

So I picked up my knitting and tried to complete a section, but I kept ending up with an extra stitch at the end of the row, and after counting back over it, discovered I had made a mistake at the beginning of the row so had to unravel the whole row. I did this about 5 times.

Eventually the baby woke up and rather than his usual "Hey Mummy I'm awake, but I'm just going to sit and play happily in my cot til you're finished that row" he stood up and shouted "Mummy! Mummy! Mummy!" rather like that Ground Squirrel shouting "Alan!"

It all went quiet on the SHS for a bit when everyone else came home, then hubby called from work to say he was on his way, and we had a conversation that went something like this:
Him:What time are we doing that Thing on Saturday?
Me:Early enough to go into the city
Him:we're not going into the city
Me:yes we are, I told you about it
Him:no you didn't
Me:I have been talking about it since we decided to do the Saturday Thing
Him:you didn't tell me
Me: I HAVE BEEN TALKING ABOUT IT SINCE WE DECIDED
Him:I never heard you say it
Me:It's not my problem that you don't listen.
Him:OK see you *hang up*

Then I cooked dinner and it didn't do what I wanted and I didn't have enough noodles to make me happy then the kids whined and stalled at bedtime as usual then the knitting groundhog made me do the same row 6 times and my book keeps killing people.

I would go to bed, but I forgot to make bread earlier, so now I have to wait for the bread machine to make the dough (1hr30) then put it to rise (30mins) then cook it (another 30).  No I can't cook it in the bread machine as it is so old and worn out that it can barely mix the dough, and it expends so much effort in creating said dough, that if you cook it in the machine, the machine can't bear to part with the completed loaf and glues it to the inside of the pan, so despite Herculean efforts, you end up with the top half of a loaf in your hand, and the bottom half cemented into the bread pan as the machine has a nervous breakdown about you taking its baby away.

The only thing that helps at a time like this is cheese.

Who ever really knows us?

I have been pondering the nature of friendship recently, probably because I have been watching Doctor Who again.  Having moved a fair few times since my mid-teens, I have had to make new friends fairly often, and have had friendships that seemed deep and intense at the time, but turned out to be ethereal and fleeting in the grand scheme of things.

I was discussing childhood friendships with my husband, as he has not really kept in touch with any of his childhood friends, and I have.  I miss my friends when I leave, but thanks to the wonder of modern technology, have not lost really touch with them.  In some cases I have re-discovered some old friendships, which has been very nice, as I love to hear how well the lives of people I like have turned out.

I thought about the people I considered good friends through my childhood and teens, and if I am honest, although I love them all dearly, I don’t think there was ever one person I felt was a “best friend”.  I never really felt completely part of one group (as I have mentioned in older posts), or attached to one person above all others.

Since moving far, far away I have had a couple of old friends tell me how much they admired me as a teen, which was both flattering and surprising, as it came from people I admired and never thought would be truly worthy of being considered a friend of.

I was thinking, if these people admired me and I was unaware, maybe there are other friends out there who know me better than I thought.

I have a bit of a Hollywood ideal of what a “best friend” should be, so I wonder, would anyone know these things about me, or am I dreaming…

What is my favourite colour?

Who was my “first love”?

What is my favourite sort of music?

What is my favourite film of all time?

What is the best thing to buy me for Christmas?

What is my favourite alcoholic drink?

What is the most embarrassing thing I have ever done?

I don’t think I could answer all these questions correctly for any of my old friends and definitely not for any new ones yet, but although I am sad for not having that sort of sisterly closeness with one person, I am glad to have the wonderful friends I do have, and hope to make many more.

Do not feed the Drama Llama

The Drama Llama has come to my house.  You may not have heard of the Drama Llama, but I am sure you will recognise this wily beast after a while.

The Drama Llama sometimes comes at homework time, and when faced with a word that simply refuses to be spelled correctly, the Drama Llama rears up and declares that “it’s IMPOSSIBLE! I CAN’T DO IT” and then proceeds to burst into loud, wailing sobs, worthy of a traditional Greek mourner.

Other times the Drama Llama has spent all day cooking a beautiful meal and someone decides that they are not very hungry and the Drama Llama rants about how everyone can just go and eat Pot Noodles then, because they are Never Cooking Again.

Occasionally, there are 2 Drama Llamas in the house, which can result in the catastrophe escalating into epic proportions, involving tears, recriminations, much door slamming and refusing to apologise.

There is a way to deal with the Drama Llama.  It’s not foolproof, as sometimes the Drama Llama is determined to be your house guest for a while, but here’s a tip.

Do not feed the Drama Llama.

If the Drama Llama is starting to get worked up about the recorder being impossible to play, calmly refuse to get into a discussion about finger positions, regular practice, and tackling easier pieces of music.  Step away, and make a cup of tea.  Do not feed the Drama Llama.

If fed, the Drama Llama can fly out of control, causing untold damage to your doors, furniture, pottery and mental health.

Stay calm, do not respond, offer assistance to the Drama Llama and then back away slowly.

Remember, DO NOT feed the Drama Llama and it will eventually run out of steam.

What to talk about that does not involve the R word

I am ignoring the world cup.  This is fairly easy when you don't have a telly, but it is still surrounding me like a particularly lingering fart.

I've searched for other things to entertain me during this time of the entire country, and most of the world going a mini bit bonkers over what is essentially, just a game.  There are many, many more important things in the world that need media attention - CHRISTCHURCH EARTHQUAKE RECOVERY anyone?

So, here are the few things I plan to be doing until it all ends sometime at the end of October:

Knitting socks
Laughing at people doing stupid things, especially when they are people I know
Trying to come up with a pattern for knitting "some sick on the pavement"
Epilating
Wondering why my spell check thinks "epilating" should be "titilating"
Reading other blogs
Browsing through the non-rugby threads on my favourite Ravelry group
Learning how to Wake Up Full of Awesome
Reading Adult Comics (NSFW)

That's all for now, I am sure there are plenty more things I could be doing, but for now I'll avoid some housework and dig the garden.

The trouble with marrying an atheist is that “til death us do part” is true.

I used to be a fervently evangelical atheist; I believed that I was right about the non-existence of any form of deity or after-life, and I needed to show all the non-atheists out there how deluded they were.

Having married a man staunch in his faith who believes simply because he does, I have learned to understand faith a little more.  I still don’t agree, but I know now that trying to change his mind would be like trying to convince a toaster to run a marathon: it’s not what he’s built for.

When people ask me about it, I try and explain how for both of us our belief – one way or the other – is so deeply part of us that we are not conscious of it until it is challenged.  I have likened the situation to the Belief Chip from Red Dwarf.  Tareka is wired for faith, I am not.

I have come to accept that my husband’s faith is as much a part of him as his sense of humor and his inability to perform “active listening” convincingly.

We both believe what we believe and know that what matters is how we live now, rather that what might or might not happen after we die.  I accept and respect his faith and he mine.  We take the piss out of each other for our beliefs, but ultimately honor them.

Try looking at your partner, or your friend, or your neighbour in this way.  Try and understand that their faith (or lack of it) is not a failing or something that needs to be corrected.  It is part of what makes them who they are, and you care about them, so you should also care about their beliefs.  As long as no-one is trying to force you into something you do not agree with, then there is no reason that we can’t all behave well towards each other.

Love thy neighbour, even if he plays the trombone.