First Position Caramel

What a difference nice weather makes. Living in the middle means that we, all too often, have a layer of cloud separating us from the blue sky and sun. As someone once aptly put it cloudy weather, especially in the winter, can make one feel like living in a Tupperware box. On such days I find myself trying to lift an imaginary lid just to get out of the gloom. Last week the lid was off and sunshine poured in making us all feel very cheerful indeed. Even the children were in a good mood, which made walking home from school feel like a doddle. No major rows; no niggeldy arguments; no moaning or groaning. The warm weather and gentle breeze made us all, well, tolerant. Easy going. Hey, I’m such a successful mother – my children get on really well.

It is also September, which not only marks the beginning of the school year. It’s the beginning of dragging children around to various organised activities at inconvenient hours. In our case this means: swimming on Monday; ballet for L on Saturday and Karate on Wed and Sat for J and K. Funny this one. In the same way that G and I swore we would never have a crippling mortgage, we also swore we would not get sucked into thousands of extra curricula activities.

In between this schedule we have birthday parties to organise and birthday parties to bring children to; we have to source birthday presents and to answer invitations; we get nagged into sleep-over’s and having friends to come and play and we get roped into driving the children half way around the middle – and R, being one and a half, hasn’t even made his requests heard yet.

The fact that I refuse to drive a car does not help. It shames me that at my age I have not mastered what millions have – to get behind a steering wheel and drive with confidence. It mortifies me that when J. was a tender two year old he commented “I understand it now Mummy. When you grow up into a man you will learn how to drive”. I am so sorry to have let the sisterhood down – but I just hate driving a car. It’s a terrible handicap but one that G. and the family are reluctantly learning to live with. So, on days when G. is away we have to rope in a social network of friends. Saturday was one such day. G. was away in Brussels the whole day and we had the following plan:

L: Ballet 9:00 to 10:00: Kaatje’s Mummy to pick her up and to bring her home.

K.M, J: Karate registration: 10:00 – 11:00. I to bring them by foot to Sport Palace.

J, K.M, and R lunch: 12:00

L: 13:00 to be dropped off by Kaatje’s Mummy

J.: Birthday party: 13:45 – to be picked up by Louis’ Mum.

K.M and L: Marie and Louise to come and Play. Karlien to drop them off and pick them up.

17:30: G. to pick up J. and Ivan from birthday party and drive them back home.

But hey, the weather was sunny and everyone in a splendid mood. L. announced after she woke up:

“Ohh its so much fun Mummy”

“What is?” I asked

“I’m doing ballet today”.

She did look cute in her outfit and skipped off so happily with Kaatje half an hour later dressed like a little white fairy.

Up at the Sport Palace they were having an open day. There were bouncy castles and mock rock walls to climb – which J. managed right to the top and down again in five minutes flat. (He won’t be doing it again he decided). K.M went half way up and then announced she would not budge one plastic rock further. So she came down again. R. ran in between and struggled like a mad-man in straps when being pushed back into the buggy.

We got J and K.M registered for Karate. K.M. only joined in once she saw Noella confidently punching her arms in the air. We got back in time for lunch and back in time for Louis’ Mum to pick up J for J2’s birthday party. We got back in time for Karlien to drop off Marie and Louise and we got back in time for L. to be dropped off by Kaatje’s Mummy, who stayed for a cup of tea and a chat.

“How was ballet?” I asked Kaatje as she ran passed me and towards the kitchen door. She stopped. Turned to look at me and said earnestly:

“First position: Caramel”

And then she hopped off inside to look for L. who was getting more toys to distribute across the garden.

Gappy teeth and carassius auratus

It all started innocently enough one sunny afternoon two weeks ago. But it was doomed to end in failure. Stefanie, our friendly student tenant, appeared at the kitchen door, as we were hanging out in the garden in late August. Well, G, K.M, L, R and I were hanging out in the garden on a sunny evening in late August. J was probably upstairs watching Star Wars for the millionth time.
“I have a little favour to ask of K.M and L” Stefanie asked. “We’ve booked a week’s holiday in Turkey and are leaving on Sunday. Could K.M and L feed the fish for us?” K.M and L are all bright eyed and excited. Unlike “tidy your toys up” this order sounds like fun.
“Can we come upstairs and have a look? How many fish to do you have? Can I feed them? No I?”
“Its very simple, oops can you reach K.M?, good, errr, yes all you need to do is feed them once a week, say on a Wednesday and that’s it.”
Stefanie shows us where she keeps her pot of food and informs us that her two fish are called George and Paul. There were four, but apparently Ringo and John passed away sometime ago. Now only two of the fab four survive. Looks easy enough. No worries Stefanie you go off and have a great holiday. We’ll feed George and Paul for you on Wednesday.
“K.M remind me won’t you.” I ask her the following day. “We really must not forget”.
Forget. Forget. I wish. Fish are very much on K.M’s mind.
“Mummy I know what I want for my birthday” K.M lisps the following morning in bed. “Fith – real ones just like Stefanie”. She has lost both of her front teeth. Her seventh birthday is coming up.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea K.M. Where will we put them, in any case L will probably knock them over and R could drink the water. Real fish are for tenants not for us sweet heart. In any case whose going to clean the aquarium? Hmmm? Not you.”
K.M’s form of persistence is canny. She leaves little pictures of fish swimming in water around the house, under my pillow, on the fridge, in my shoe and talks endlessly about….well fish. Not, by the way the broken sardines, but the living things that, as far as I’m concerned, require too much attention. Ceramic fish can’t survive in this house – how on earth will the poor, real buggers fare in this family?
G, is more of a soft-touch and gives her hope.
“O.K we’ll look into it K.M I promise”
As far as she is concerned this is a water-tight affirmative.
“But, its expensive G.” I try the monetary tactic. “By the time we’ve bought all the stuff we’ll be EUR 50 down at least – far more than we normally spend on the kids for birthday presents.”
“Uncle R can chip in and Oma and Opa.”
On Wednesday, K.M, L and I go up to feed Paul and George. Stefanie has suck a note on the tank. “K.M and L. – thanks for looking after my fish while I’m away, Love Stefanie” The fish, in the meantime are swimming in muggy pea soup water. Two haunted shadows swim ….in …and ….out of our vision. Their environment must be the equivalent of fish hell. Climate change gone mad in a fish tank.
“Mummy, should fish be swimming in green water?” K.M asks as she feeds the fish.
“Not really”
“All we were asked to do was feed the fish not clean out tanks.” G. tells me when I bring it up with him.
“But, shouldn’t we just take the fish out and put them in another pot with clean water until Stefanie gets back?”
“No, no, no. We were just asked to feed the fish nothing more nothing less. Don’t do it K.”

“Guess what K.M” I tell her on her birthday after picking her and the others up from school. “Mummy and Daddy have a surprise for you”.
“Fith” she says breathlessly “You got me my fith”.
“I’m not saying – you’ll have to wait and see until we get home”.
“Tell me Mummery, tell me” J. insists. “I won’t tell K.M I promise”
“Nope it’s a surprise. Wait and see”.
J, K.M and L try finding names. It’s a surprise but they’ve all guessed.
“Marie had a fish called Meeeeeeouw Meeouw. That’s what I want to call my fish”.
“That’s a stupid name K.M” J says. I agree but try and put it more tactfully.
“How about Pacific, Atlantic and Indian” I think they’re very clever names but there’s not a roar of enthusiasm from the children.
They all shout out names.
L. suggests “handbag” I like it, I like it – but K.M doesn’t.
J. wants “Swimming fish”. K.M. agrees on condition that its called “Swimmy”. J. wants “Swimming fish”. K.M wants “Swimmy”…. swimming fish…swimmy….swimming fish…swimmy.
K.M. sees some students playing music in the park and comes up with “guitar”. We all like that one.
“I had a gold fish once K.M, when I was four, just before Aunty R was born, and I called it “Goldie”.” K.M. likes this too.
“Tell me the surprise” J asks for the fifteenth time.
“No – it’s a surprise. Wait and see.”
The mood turns sour as J. keeps insisting.
“Alright I’ll whisper it in your ear J. as long as you don’t tell K.M.”
“I won’t”.
“O.K. we got her two gold fish and one black fish”.
J. is jealous.
“They got you two gold fish and one black fish” he calls out.
I’m furious. He looses all rights to pocket money for the rest of September (which they had all already lost anyway re: previous fish incident). How else can I impose punitive sanctions on the kids? What other measures can I resort to?
J. has spoilt the fun. He’s out of order and he knows it. He even apologises under his breath.
K.M. and L are still excited and head straight up to her bedroom to check out Guitar, Goldie and Swimmy (or Swimming Fish depending on who you talk to). The two carassius auratus are accompanied by one Black Moor and swim around in clean water with red and white pebbles on the bottom. L. immediately sets to work. She grabs a chair and stands on tip toe to peek inside. She starts banging on the tank in order to get their attention (don’t do that L. they’ll get scared), she try’s to fish them out (L. if I see you one more time with that net…), and begins to plop her toys inside (L. will you please come away from the fish tank. Do you want to kill them….)

“Sad news G” informs me on Sunday evening as we come back from a week-end by the sea.
“K.M has been to check on Paul and George. They are both dead.”
“I knew we should have changed the water. Why didn’t you let me.”
K.M., who takes her fish responsibilities seriously, looks stricken and explains
“Mummy, I went upstairs to check on them and the water smelt and its so dirty I couldn’t see anything and then I saw George covered in white slime and floating on the surface with his eyes wide open just staring like this…..” She cocks her head side-ways, opens her eyes and mouth wide and stares up a the ceiling in a remarkably good likeness of what a dead fish , which has slowly been suffocated and poisoned to death in putrefying water, must look like.
“Shit we’ve killed the fish.” I think. “What is Stefanie going to say”
“I’ll fish them out” G says, who has already had to clean Guitar, Goldie and Swimmy’s tank after K.M poured all of her sandy shells, collected on the beach, into the tank. “But, I’m not cleaning their tank out. They can do it.”
Its already 8 and the kids are in their pj’s ready for bed.
Paul and George are flushed down the loo – there is no time for a decent burial.
Later that evening G and I notice that our aquarium, having just been cleaned, has gone all cloudy and dirty again. What has happened? Next to the tank stands Stefanie’s pot of fish food (borrowed since we forgot to buy some). The lid is open and its completely empty. Two years worth of food has been put into the tank by L. …."I was just trying to feed them Mummy”. Great not only have we killed Stefanie’s fish, we’ve emptied her feed and are in the process of killing K.M. birthday present as well.
G, who is less than amused, gets to work and cleans the tank out for the second time in two hours. K.M. howls convinced that her fish are going to die. J. shouts. “Your fish are going to explode”. L. stares at me as I tell her off and bites on her sandwich faster than is normal. R. crawls in between and starts to pick up grains of fish food and examines them before they are grabbed out of his hands, by me. We notice that the pot of fish food states “Feed daily”. .. “…but I’m sure she said just once a week…didn’t she G?”

So, to tally up. We have two dead fish, a stinking fish tank in the attic, one empty pot of feed and three over-fed (they survived) fish. Water in Goldie’s, Guitar’s and Swimmy’s fish tank is still looking dodgy and cloudy in spite of recently acquired filter. Poor Goldie, Guitar and Swimmy….welcome to the VC-G’s.

Justice and Home Affairs: Fishy tails

We have a new address. In future could you please forward all correspondence to:

K and G VC-G
The Home Office
Department for Policing; Prosecuting; Defending; Judging; and Enforcement of infantile behaviour Leuven etc. etc.
Telephone and email address stay the same.

And boy oh boy is there a lot of outlandish infantile behaviour going on in this house. Not surprising I know. I know we have four children all under the age of eight but jeez does their squabbling, refusal to acknowledge a question, fighting for resources (we can't even say "scarce resources" since the house is groaning under the weight of their toys) and general bolshiness, drive us crazy. Believe you me there's a lot of policing going on in this house:

"OK own up who broke the fish? J. I saw you playing with them yesterday and I expressly told you it was not allowed."

G and I are very fond of those sardines. Not live ones. Not tinned ones even but some rather tasteful ceramic ones that I bought for G as a present in France. They look great on the sideboard in the dinning room where they lie on a wicker plate as though left there by some Portuguese fisherman off the Algarve. They have been pushed back as far out of reach of sticky hands as possible. Lips all wobbly, eyes indignant

"It wasn't me Mummy honestly. It wasn't"
"Well, did you see anyone playing with them?"
"No, honestly."
"If none of you can own up to it then none of you will get your pocket money for the next three weeks".
L howls: "It was J. Mummy it was J. I saw him playing with the fish and then he dropped it and then the tail fail off and then the fin. Can I please get my pocket money this week. Sob, sob."

She hasn't been getting any pocket money - on the grounds that she is still too young. So far this lack of personal spending power has gone unnoticed by L. But in the context of a broken fish it seems to concern her greatly. She must be right about J though. She's not making the story up. It was the tail and fin that broke off and only the tail and fin - so she must have seen it happen. I applaud myself on my policing skills and look all disappointed at J.

The following day they get a long lecture about how it is sooo much better to own up to a misdeed rather than trying to blatantly lie about it. I tell them the story about when I stuck chewing gum under a plate in my first week at boarding school (age 10) and how it broke the school's dishwasher for a whole week. I owned up and was rewarded with a long talk about how honest I was and how commendable it was of me to own up to my mistake. This incident has stuck. Thought it was a nice little tale for my children, who gratifyingly, were quite impressed and I had to repeat the story at least three times.

On the matter of judgment. Take this as a typical example.

"Mummy, Mummy J/K/L hit, took my cereal box toy, pushed, threatened, karate kicked, teased, yelled, shouted kaka, stole from..... me."

"Yes, but J/K/L hit, took my cereal box toy, pushed, threatened, karate kicked, teased, yelled, shouted kaka, stole from....me first."

Needless to say as Chief Police of policing, judge, juror and enforcer of family discipline, I have been busy neglecting my duties and doing something vitally important but mundane such as - clearing away the breakfast dishes before our resident mouse gets at the crumbs and before I tread in spilt sticky porrige.

"Is this true J/K/L I ask." not knowing who is to blame. Indeed, if anyone is really too blame. Or, do I really care.
"Yes"
"NOOO"
"Can't you all behave a little nicer to each other please"
I beg knowing that this cuts little ice with them.
"Play nicely together children."

Fat chance as long as one of them is clinging onto that trashy plasticy toy thing that came for free in the cereal box this morning. J is very muscular and the strongest. K is sneaky and teases insidiously and silently. L, although only four, has a remarkably good poker face. She's no ones push over. I look at their faces - six eyes stare at me expressing total innocence of any wrong doing. They look expectantly and await judgement.

"Alright J, let K have a look at the toy."
"That's NOT FAIR!!! Its my turn to have the toy. You said, you said..."
K looks triumphant, snatches the toy out of J's hand and runs off. Jakob chases her yelling full volume.
"Give it back its not fair".

He catches up with her pretty quickly, trips her up over the corridor floor and grabs it out of her hands. She yells. I wish I had more authority and get tired of this endless behaviour. Wish I could just open the front door, slam it shut and leave the cacophony behind. Wouldn't it be wonderful to just walk away from all this and let them sort it out themselves. They are so well, childish. Can't they grow up and get over these petty squabbles.

"Life isn't fair J/K/L" I keep telling them.
"Do you know what unfair is. Its unfair that children your age sleep alone on the streets of Kinshasa without anyone to look over them. That some people go hungry in this world and don't worry whether there is a freebie in the cereal box - just whether there is cereal in the house to make food with. For those people life probably is "unfair". But you - you guys have everything and more. How can life be unfair on you. Any why are you always so angry and aggressive with each other? Do you hear Mummy and Daddy talking like that to one another? Do Mummy and Daddy fight every morning for the last drop of milk. We share everything we have. And we are happy - so why can't you be. Just walk away from K if she teases you. K you keep out of J's way. L leave R to play with those cars and stop pinching him I can see you doing it..."

But, this is all adult speak and it washes over them. Perhaps when they are older some of these conversations will come back as a reminder.

By the way it was L who broke the fish. She later owned up to it. But, whether this was because
of my story about getting full credit for owning up to wrong-doing or because she was under duress to say so from her older siblings and was forced to confess or because she did it - I simply do not know. I never thought that parenting would involve so much police/judicial work, for which I am totally under-financed, over-worked and overwhelmed.