Don't know that I can do justice to the following conversations...
Today, just like any other, I had a call from what was presumably a call desk somewhere in deepest, darkest India. The caller identified himself, and the company he was calling from, but for the life of me I couldn't understand him. I asked him to repeat himself, which he did so of course I still couldn't understand. In the end I just said, look, I don't really have the time, thanks anyway, blah, blah, blah, see you later - before hanging up.
Approximately 10 seconds later, the phone rings again, it's the Guy From India again...
GFI: Excuse me, madam, we seem to have been cut off...
Me: No, we weren't cut off. That was me hanging up on you because I don't want to talk to you.
GFI: But I have something very meaningful to discuss with you!
Me: No, you don't!
At which point the phone was slammed, very purposefully, down into the cradle. Again.
Phone rings again. Again, it's the Guy From India...
Me: NOT INTERESTED!
Phone slammed down again, before the extra words 'just %$^%$%^$ off' accidently emerged. (Note to mother: they wouldn't have. Really.)
Phone rings again. This time, I just slightly raised the receiver, before slamming it down again. Now, I go and see Gary. He has strict instructions to answer the phone next time it rings. Which it does, a short time later. At this point I'm sitting on the floor, putting on shoes and socks. Gary answers the phone, and before the other end has a chance to talk, he puts on his very best Indian accent and tells them that he is 'tinking dat I am very busy doing my tax...' I was rolling around the floor in a fit of laughter by this stage. Not to be deterred, the caller continues. Gary comments, and the phrases 'desperately ill child, heartless, scientologists, no, we killed ours off...' made me suspect that perhaps this was not the GFI.
After he hung up, Gary casually mentioned it was some guy with an American accent, ringing on behalf of Scientologists, about something to do with a sick child, and when he told the guy that we got rid of our kids (!) he threatened to go to the authorities...
Just another boring Sunday...
Alexandra: Mum, one day can we get a fish?
Me: Maybe when you're old enough to clean the bowl out.
Alexandra: OK, but when I'm a teenager, and you're like, nearly dead, can we get a dog?
Me: (Speechless)
Alexandra: And if it's a good dog when I move out I can take it with me...
Alexandra came home from school yesterday with a bunch of wattle. It was actually very pretty, and she set to, tying a beautiful gold ribbon around it.
Alexandra: I think I might give it to Dad. Or maybe Luke... Yes, I'm giving it to Luke.
Me: Hmmm. I think Dad would really love it. Why don't you give it to him? Luke might not really be into wattle...
But no, her mind was made up. This morning, the wattle was arranged into a paper bag she'd made, with 'I Love Luke, sweet' on it.
We were walking home from school this afternoon when she suddenly announced, 'I'm breaking up with Luke.' Apparently, Luke had given her bunch of wattle to girlfriend #3. The tears started. A flood actually. Enough to break a mum's heart.
I couldn't believe that a seven year old girl could feel genuinely enough about the situation to really react like this. I couldn't believe that Luke could do that to her. Actually, I could, I wasn't surprised at all. And although I didn't start at age seven, I could completely understand how she felt... When you give a male who you think is special something important, whether it's an item, or even just small expressions of emotion, to have them treat it with such little regard just breaks your heart. And worse, makes you think twice about doing it again. Until you turn into a hard-hearted old bag... Guys, you have so much to learn about making your own lives easier. (insert rolling eyes here...) And anyway, Luke, I hate to tell you but you're too short for my daughter. She needs someone big, strong and tender.
Now Alexandra is on a mission to get her bunch of wattle back. She reckons if only Luke had told her he didn't want it, she could have given it to Dad. Big, strong, tender Daddy, who loves everything his little girl gives him. I don't like her chances getting the wattle back. But she does have one thing to look forward to: the hope that girlfriend #3 can read the paper bag with the wattle in it. If she can, she'll either figure out that Luke is spreading himself a little thin, or she'll think Luke has tickets on himself. And it may just be enough to make her drop him. Oh dear, Luke...
And oh dear to me. If this is how things are at aged 7, I'm dreading 15...
Christopher lately has been intent on picking my brain about my early love life, wanting to know details like how old I was when I first had a boyfriend (not until high school - you'd understand if you knew the boys in my class...), did anyone like me at school (Bruce Valentine), did I kiss him (No!)and how did I handle it? (Ignoring it...)
Hmmm... Some questioning on my part confirmed that yes, my gorgeous-natured, long blonde-haired, olive-skinned little nine-year-old boy is indeed getting chased by the girls. On Valentine's Day he was bombarded with cards and items, much to his embarrassment. Did he like those girls too? Well no, not like that... And just last weekend he went to his first night-time party, for a girl's 10th birthday. Far out. Is it just me, or are things moving younger and younger nowadays? My girlfriend, who has a son several years older, assures me that girls are way more aggressive now than back in our days (and we're not even sitting on some porch somewhere with canes and rocking chairs!)
Well, it turns out that I may have contributed to this epidemic. Check this out:
In case you can't decipher a seven year old's writing, this is what it says: 'Love Luke, so romantic, I so love Luke G, he is the sweetest.'
All that's missing is the 'Love from Alexandra' sign-off. So this was the hot topic at a family birthday gathering last night. Grandma managed to establish that Luke G reciprocated Alexandra's sentiments. He also, unfortunately, seems to be in love with Alexandra's friend Georgia. Cousin Michael's advice was to tell Luke G that it's over. Grandma advised Alexandra that it would simply not do: tell Luke G that he needs to choose between her and Georgia. Alexandra thought about it for a moment, then said:
'I can't see the problem. He can just have a wife and a girlfriend.' Hey, lucky guy, Luke!
Isn't it interesting how two people emerging from the same womb can be so different? Take, for instance, Christopher and Alexandra. From the moment she could sit up and physically hold a spoon, Alexandra wanted to feed herself. She just wouldn't open her mouth if you wouldn't let her do it herself. And still won't.
And on the other hand, there's Christopher. Never one to do something himself if he can con someone else into doing it for him. Just like at dinner last night. He didn't like what we were having, and just plain wouldn't eat unless I fed him. My nine year old son wanted to be fed. I can't believe that I'm actually admitting it here, but I did. Because I needed to move on to doing other things in my life. I did, however, question whether he would be able to find a wife who would be happy to continue the practice for him in the future.
Christopher: But what if I don't want to get married, Mum?
Me: Well, you'll have to learn to feed yourself, won't you?
C: Well, I'll just move in next to you and you can keep on doing it...
Yeah, right.
And tonight just seemed to continue with more innovation at dinner time from Christopher, who wouldn't use a fork with a knife to scrape the rice onto his fork:
"I think they should invent magnetic food so it just sticks to your fork."
No doubt NASA's working on it as we speak...
Dance like nobody's watching;
Love like you've never been hurt.
Sing like nobody's listening;
Live like it's heaven on earth. (Mark Twain)
Today I caught the train into the city. I was listening to the radio on my mobile phone, when a favourite song of mine came on - Straight Lines by Silverchair. So up went the volume, and before I knew it, I was singing along... On the train. With other people on board.
It reminded me of our easter holiday. We were part way into the 4 hour drive away from home. Our car at the moment doesn't have a functioning radio, so once again I plugged my headset into my mobile (gotta get an iPod!) and listened to the radio... and sang along. I've really been uninhibited about singing along out aloud since I was introduced to Singstar on Playstation. With Singstar you can turn the volume of the song up really loudly, so no-one can hear you singing just like the sound you make when you run your nails down a blackboard. And up. And down again.
But in the car, no-one but me could hear the music. And Gary turned to me, and started talking. Very gravely:
'When you have your earpiece on, and no-one else can hear the music, you shouldn't sing. Really. I really mean it.'
Of course I stuck the earpiece back in, and started singing again. But it didn't last long, because I couldn't stop laughing at the fact that the world's worst singer had asked me to stop singing. Because although I might sound like nails on a blackboard, at least I"M IN TUNE. That was entertainment value for about half an hour.
Which brings me back to today, on the train. At least the people on the train were polite enough just to look away. But I didn't end up singing for too long anyway, because I couldn't stop laughing...
I've decided I'm going to fulfill every line of Mark Twain's quote. Will let you know how I go... :)
Alexandra had her 7th birthday last week; on the weekend we held a party for her at home. Here's a few things I've learnt:
In all my spare time, between cleaning my toenails and reorganising my recipe books alphabetically, I often sit and wonder which Hollywood B Celebrity I might most closely resemble. Well, no longer do I wonder, as I came across this:
My cool celebrity look-alike collage from MyHeritage.com. Get one for yourself.
I'm most impressed with the inclusion of James Spader. I have this theory that men and women are attracted to people who have similar facial features to themselves. Mostly this theory seems to work (test it on couples you know!), but I must admit that although I admire James as an actor, I never really was attracted to him physically. I don't think. But maybe Gary is?? Anyway, I'll be waiting for the next episode of Boston Legal with baited breath. Maybe I will fall in love with him. Then again, maybe it's just the glasses...
A couple of weeks ago, we celebrated Christopher's 9th birthday with a sleepover. Well, that was the plan. Reality was that when Gary went to bed at 3.30am (I piked out at 2am) the joint was rockin'... as it was at 7am when I got up, and I don't know that any 'sleeping' actually occured. They were all in the lounge room, and to accommodate 5 nine year olds plus a little sister I had to move a substantial amount of heavy furniture around.
My back hasn't been the same since. In fact, since then my back has seized up more with each passing day. Can't sit for long. Can't bend over. Can't do lots of housework...hee hee!
Well, today I was leaving work, in rather a hurry to get home, as I had to pick up a car load of kids from dance class before heading off to be facilitator at a meeting. Couldn't be late. As I was about to place my foot on the flagstones on the other side of the road, a fellow pedestrian zipped in front of me, causing me to shift my weight. And yes, one of my new shoes slipped on the flagstones. My biggest concern was falling on the road (and not just any little road - I'm talking Victoria Street!), so I tried to keep it together and managed to fall just on the footpath. It was kind of strange: as I was doing slow motion splits I could hear ooooohs and gasps from people before I even hit the pavement, so I knew it was going to be a goody. I was wearing a crossover top, paired with a new pair of satin bras - and had spent the entire day trying to prevent my chest from slipping out of my top. In trying to preserve my dignity by preventing a humiliating fall, I crash-landed, skinned my knee and of course my breasts leapt right out of my top.
Did any of my students see me?? I couldn't get up from that fall quick enough, and... Hey! I managed to get up from that fall without even noticing my back! Some thing must have popped back in, or out... It may have been humiliating, but it was a darned sight cheaper than the chiropractor...
