Beaver boy

I happened upon this today and given my recent rant on such matters, it interested me a great deal.

My favourite quotes from the article are:

• "Scouting has something to offer everyone, no matter your religion, ethnicity or belief"
• "It's essential to continue to make scouting accessible to all."
• "We welcome all communities and this initiative helps to ensure that no one misses out on the numerous benefits and adventure of scouting, because they feel it is 'not for them'."
• "It doesn't matter who you are, what you are or what colour your skin is or what faith you are."

As usual I find it interesting that religious faiths fall into two categories. More and more is being done to be inclusive of all religions in our diverse multi-cultural society, but as usual not having a faith is somehow seen as a second-class option that does not need to be catered for or included. Who decided that atheists and their children are a 'faith-group' that need not be included? Two months on, and I am still asked on an almost weekly basis by my son why he had to pledge his love to a God he does not believe in in order to be allowed to take part in archery, baking and ball games with his friends. Why are children of atheists forced to hide their beliefs in order not to 'miss out on the numerous benefits' on offer, while all other faith-groups are catered for?

I often find it interesting to observe how religious believers treat those who believe in atheism. I don't think for one moment, if I was to tell people I was bringing my children up as strict Muslims, Jews or Catholics, that people would preach their religion openly to them with complete disregard for the upbringing they are receiving, but because I believe in nothing, and I believe it as whole-heartedly as my religious friends believe what they do, they feel it wholly acceptable to try to educate my children in a manner I disagree with. 

It is not that I am angry. I have faith enough in my parenting ability and the open-mindedness I am instilling in my children, but I wonder why we have been elected to be lesser beings than those with completely unsubstantiated faith?

Brilliant photos

One of my flickr friends decided to do a photoshoot of his parents. His mum got a fit of the giggles in the middle of the shoot. I think the results are just adorable. I particularly like the second one as you scroll down. These really made me smile - I feel I can almost hear her laugh all the way over here even though she lives on the other side of the Atlantic! Enjoy!

Ready for summer (in Scotland)

She may only just have turned two, but Amaia already has the measure of the Scottish climate, I think. Despite basking around 20°C since Saturday, she has been sitting at the garden table for lunch in her t-shirt and summer dress, even venturing at times into the unheated paddling pool, but she is still insisting on wearing her woolly winter hat and snow boots just in case the weather turns on us, as it has a want to in Scotland!

Top-heavy

Is it just me or are hyacinths a bit of a stupid design? Half of those in my garden have hit the deck under the weight of their heads! Are you meant to stake them or something?!

Skye - well Skyeish...

Léon's homework for tonight was geography. He was meant to fill things in on a blank map of Skye. (The school is divided into a house system and Léon's house is named after Skye). He was to mark up towns, seas, castles, rivers, hills, mountains, harbours and other places of interest. He was to use the internet or an atlas. It didn't seem in any way beyond him so we were surprised when he started rolling about the floor whining and complaining. We came over for a look. The teacher had provided him with a blank map to fill in... Unfortunately the teacher seems to be somewhat geographically-impaired to say the least! She'd accidentally given him a blank map of Mull! He's done his best to fill things but it's been quite a challenge!



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Sorry, when did I move to America?

I have been quietly fuming now for nine days. I feel I have started avoiding media stories about the Bolton footballer, Muamba, whose fate was in everyone's heart from the minute he went down. Who wouldn't wish a young, fit father all the best in the circumstances? What I was beginning to find stomach-churning, however, were the screeds of newspaper articles dedicated to telling everyone to pray for him, thanking those who were praying for the obvious good they were doing and constant reiteration that everything was in God's hands. I couldn't believe how little was being written about the amazing work done by the paramedics and cardiologists - the real heroes of the day. I tend to try to live and let live - if people want to believe there's some superhuman being sitting up there capriciously deciding who should live and who should die depending on how many fans he happens to have of the correct religious persuasion mentioning him at bedtime - so be it. If they think this God is so absent-minded that he hasn't noticed someone is needing to be saved - they have my blessing to spend all night pointing it out to him, should they so desire but when is someone actually going to give credit to those who actually reanimated the man!?

Anyway, I had decided to let sleeping dogs lie until Tim Farron and co broke the camel's back! What planet is that man on? A sick man gets better therefore prayer works from a scientific perspective? Deep breaths, count to ten... I'm sorry, but this is the sort of nonsense I expect from the other side of the pond. If UK politics has started down the God path, it's time Scotland gained independence, or I moved somewhere more secular... or both!

Bread

I was reading an article about bread the other day. Apparently bread is the most-thrown-away product in UK bins. Ever since we started making our own bread (this is the royal 'we' of course - ie Thomas!) I have always left any leftover chunks to dry out on the work surface for a couple of days and them put the pieces in the blender to make my own bread crumbs, which I store for months. Throwing out dried bread when ASDA charges a quid for a small jar of bread crumbs that doesn't even stretch to two chicken breasts is madness!

Marcel and Anna

Positively one of the best things about having such an age-spread across your kids is the reaction you get, say from a teenager, when a four-year-old comes out with what we parents know to be a completely normal, random four-year-old curiosity question just when your fourteen-year-old is least expecting something they consider to be so highly inappropriate!

Wednesday, high school gets out early so Mr Lazy texts me for a lift while I am out at primary and nursery anyway. I get him first. Outside nursery (the last pick-up), it is a sunny, pleasant day so a large crowd of parents is waiting at the foot of the hill while the kids run about having fun. I am standing with Marcel, Charlotte and Léon. Anna comes bouncing out wearing her favourite summer butterfly shorts. She takes Marcel's hand. She loves her big brother. She thinks he's knowledgeable. She says quite absent-mindedly, as if the thought has just flitted into her head as she looks down at her shorts, 'Marcel, I've been wondering...?' Marcel is nurturing towards the wee ones, he bends down lovingly and asks 'What?' Anna replies 'I've been wondering if butterflies have vaginas, and if they do, what they might look like!?' Marcel looks like he's going to pass out from embarrassment, quickly looking from side to side to see if anyone has heard. Of course, given he doesn't reply instantly, I can hear her repeating her question over and over at an increasing volume quite unawares as he drags her quickly to the car with a look that says almost pleadingly - Mum don't you have a large sack we can stick her in (preferably head-first) till we get to the car!?

100 year old colour photos

If you haven't seen this on today's BBC, I must recommend it. I was amazed by the vivid colours used in the clothing more than anything else. I think we all have a tendency to imagine life that far back to be quite a monochrome affair!

Ebay

Why do people pay more on ebay for used items than they would to buy something new? I understand if it is a collector's item but for something you can currently buy in a shop I just never cease to be amazed at how crazy people are.

Take today. I saw a pair of normal M&S leggings (Amaia-sized). They were 99p with P&P set at £1.50. I know I can buy a new pair in Asda at £3.50 so I added it to my watched-items out of curiosity. It finally went for £4 + the P&P.
I have noticed the same with electronics. People happily bid over the new price for a once-used electronic item. I think people get carried away with the low starting prices and they forget the P&P too. Madness!

Lent lilies?

When you speak various languages, you become aware of different cultures and climates. Take daffodils - they are called Easter lilies in Danish. That says a lot about climate. In Scotland in good year they pop out in February, March is a worst-case scenario so they'd have needed to be called Lent lilies or last-week-of February lilies in Scotland if we used similar terminology. I guess those are the kinds of names you can use in small languages, that don't work in world languages - when you speak English in places as different as New Zealand, California and Scotland, you aren't going to get names like 'Easter lilies'.

Too weird for the UK market?

Two things I used to buy in France a lot for my breakfast baguettes were Bonne Maman Confiture de lait, and Confiture de châtaignes (à la vanille). I know Tesco has been selling the basic Bonne Maman jams - blueberry, strawberry, apricot for years but these two never seem to have made it over here. Do the importers just think they are too weird to inflict on the UK market? It is a shame.

Given Thomas has a bit of work on in France at the moment, I'll definitely be requesting the odd jar of 'Vanilla chestnut jam' and 'Milk jam' every time he's over!

Micro-USBs

Micro-USBs are starting to annoy me. Both my camera (a Sony Alpha DSLR) and my phone (an HTC Smart phone) use micro-USBs for charging/data downloads. After a year the tiny end on the camera one became so loose in the camera, it no longer registered and I had to order a replacement. Imagine my annoyance yesterday when I woke up to a dead phone after putting it on to charge at bed time. You guessed it - nine months old and loose. I know the standard USBs are much chunkier but they seem to last for years without needing replacing.

What is it about pears?

I've lived with him nearly six years now but I don't get the pear fetish.

Thomas is obsessed with pears... It isn't that he eats pears. I'm not actually sure I have ever seen him eat a pear but he has planted two pear trees in the garden and he loves to buy pears. When they are on special, or there's a new variety in Waitrose, or when they have been reduced as they are nearing their sell-by date, he just can't help himself. Almost every time he goes to the supermarket alone, he sheepishly unpacks in front of me and I can tell the shifty look is working up to him admitting he's bought more pears. They then lie on the work surface or in the fruit bowl till they start to go off, sometimes until the grow their own fruit fly colony and then get binned because no one in the family is a real pear fan, but still I know it is only a matter of days till the next pear consignment turns up. I really don't get it. I guess on the scale of things, there are much more expensive follies that could tempt him (I remember my ex and his TV fetish!) but psychologically it is truly fascinating!

Ten years to change a life

Thomas has told me this is a very important anniversary. To be honest I couldn't have pinpointed it to the day, though I did know it was early March 2002. I had been with Collins exactly eleven years and a week, when someone brought round the new guy. I had been through the small talk with the new guy so often over eleven years, I probably didn't even look up. I ascertained he was a single, 30 year old Danish linguist who spoke twenty odd languages and who did computing too. I mentally categorized him as an Übernerd with whom I'd have little in common. I heard he'd be sitting at the opposite side of the office in a booth of his own, so figured I wouldn't see much of him. 


A few weeks later I came in to my office mate of two years, Sabine, packing up. She was being moved and I was being given a new office mate. Tentatively, I asked who... Sabine replied that she thought it was the big Danish bloke. My heart sank! How could I bore a single bloke with all my kiddie stories about Marcel (who was four and Lots who'd just turned two) and all my girlie stuff? I imagined years stretching ahead without so much as a coffee break. I distinctly remember turning to my computer and emailing my good friend and colleague Carol 'OMG they're making me share with the great Dane!'


The weeks passed and we started to talk and we haven't stopped since! I found out to my surprise that we had more in common than I had expected. By a year later I found my Übernerd had become my best friend! When it became clear my marriage was on the rocks, my best friend became my partner and I haven't looked back since. I wake up every morning thanking my lucky stars that my feelings towards him were reciprocated.


Occasionally, I try to imagine how my life would have turned out if Collins had left Thomas at the other side of the office. Obviously there would be no Anna or Amaia for starters. Given the strained relationship I had with my ex, which had worsened dramatically after Charlotte's birth and after he took on a high-powered job for a big US company just before the 911 stock crash, I know for sure I would be a single mum now, probably not very well off. I'd never have had the time or babysitters to chat up anyone new, so would have been leading a fairly lonely life with only my kids for company. 


Ten years ago, some unknown member of Collins management decided to stick us two in an office together. I'm not a believer in fate, but if I ever find out who made that decision, I owe them my life, my love, my happiness and my kids! It's incredible how something seemingly insignificant can change your life forever!

Newborns

One thing I love about newborn babies is the way they sleep with their arms in the air when they are at their most relaxed. You see it most over the first few days of life, then slowly the pattern fades. When the arms go under the duvet for the first time, you suddenly realize they've left the womb behind and joined this world.

Last week Léon was quite under the weather but there was no convincing him to miss Beavers. He got dressed for his session and then I left him alone while I got my shoes on. When I returned, he'd fallen asleep on the couch like a baby. It must have been the first time in six years I've seen him in that position. Suddenly he looked so sweet, vulnerable and tiny to me.

Thomas's car

Thomas's little Nissan has been annoying me today. I'd forgotten but it did the same last winter too.

At least once every winter we have a day that is so cold that the back windscreen wiper freezes onto the window. Of course, you aren't aware it is frozen on when you reverse out to do the school run and turning it on to move the dusting of snow blows the fuse.

This is particularly annoying because when you open the fuse compartment, you are confronted by approximately 12-15 fuses. They are in an incredibly awkward and tight space under the steering wheel. So I wedge myself in and read the function of each fuse with the help of a torch and my glasses. We have light, radio, washers, electrics - you name it but the fuse box claims none of the fuses relates to the wipers... grrr. So I pull each one out and look at it to see which one is burnt out. They all look intact. I then sit scratching my head as to what to do next when I notice the back wiper has miraculously started working again after three months of acting dead as a dodo. It is as if pulling out all the fuses resets something. So once again, I am none the wiser as to which of the annoying fuses I need to pull every year.

If it does it again next year I'm trading it in!

Dutch or Kashmiri crispbreads?

I often stayed at my granny's house on a Friday night as a child. She used to give us Dutch crispbread as a suppertime snack. We ate them with butter. I really loved them. In Sainsburys last week we saw this Kasmiri version and assumed they'd be the same. We bought them for breakfast. Imagine our surprise when it turned out they tasted even better... like the ones from my childhood only sweeter. Yum!

How mature is a 12 year old?

We were given a form (presumably by the council) to allow Anna to attend a concert in town with her nursery last week. I find it quite interesting that they have decided that twelve year olds are mature enough to decide whether or not they can accept medical treatment and allow anaesthetics to be performed on them. I was vaguely aware of it already as Marcel (14) had recently been sent home from high school with a consent form for some booster vaccinations that it turned out he, not I had to sign.

What I find interesting about it is not the empowerment per se of the child, but the contradiction in other parts of their system. For instance, last week Charlotte went to Castle Toward residential school for a week's stay with the rest of the p7s at her school. She is 12. But as they gathered to leave the teachers in charge asked every child in the room (approx 100 kids) to hand in all medication they might want to take with them (down to and including paracetamol for a headache or sudocrem for a rash!) complete with a consent form from their guardian to say they could have it given to them. They would then look after all hundred bottles of the same medication (mad or what?!) And if your child happened to forget to hand one in and turned up in tears with a raging headache during the week, would not be given paracetamol as they hadn't been authorised by their parent to take it!

Why is it the council seems to be indicating on the one hand that kids are mature enough to take life or death decisions, while at the same time saying they are not old enough to have a tube of cream and two paracetamol in their backpack for emergencies? This is just nonsensical!

I want bobbles too

My poor baby is desperate for hair. Every day she brings me little bobbles and hairbands and begs me to put them in her hair. I am really struggling but when she looks at me with those big olive eyes and says 'me too bobbles', what am I supposed to do? The result this week was her wandering around all Wednesday looking like an insect with two very sweet antennae.