Peak troughs
Guess everyone has those moments – you know one moment, everything is fine and hunky-dory. The next, everyone seems to go berserk for a short while. Then its back to normal. These incidents seem to litter our lives. They are stressful low-points to the week that peak like a tidal wave. I have, therefore, dubbed them peak troughs.
Take a couple of weeks ago when I picked the kids up from school at lunch time on Wednesday and J.’s friend, Predip, came home with us for some lunch and to play Pokemon cards with J.
Having successfully managed to round all five kids together, put them safely on their bikes and got the caravan of school kids, enormous satchels and bikes moving down the cobbled street, Predip, who was riding J.’s bike, announced that the chain had come off.
At around 12.05 on a Wednesday, this part of town is heaving with school kids who are either ambling home by foot in large adolescent groups, or are whizzing past on their bikes. Paridaens is only one of three huge schools all located within spitting distance of each other. Occasionally a brave driver ventures in between the mayhem in an attempt to get as close as possible to the school gates. Adding to all of this is the fact that for the past two years the Irish Franciscan College opposite Paridaens is being renovated from top to bottom and the work has swung around to the part of the College that faces J., K., L. and R.s school. By the time that the chain had come off we were a bit further up from a belching truck delivering cement to the Franciscan College.
Predip couldn’t manage to turn the bike over to fix the chain so I had to get off my bike, order L. off the bike, tell K.M to halt and unstrap R. from his seat on the back of the bike.
Ten minutes later and I still hadn’t managed to get the chain on. Luckily Guy walked past just at that moment and within a couple of minutes he’d managed to get the chain fixed and the bike in proper working order.
“Oh thanks a lot Guy.” I said “That’s great.”
“OK everyone ready to get going again. Err where is R? Has anyone seen R?” Amidst all the crowd of school children bikes and cars it was impossible to find a little three year old.
Having concentrated so hard on attaching the chain I had completely forgotten about R. and he had scarped somewhere.
We looked up and down, J. began to cry, the parked truck began to slowly move its hulking mass towards where we had all stopped.
Arnaud, Guy’s little boy, spotted R. over on the Damiaan Square so I ran over to pick him up, strap him struggling to his seat, order L. onto her bike and head for home.
And then there was the time on R.’s third birthday last week when I had managed to gather the family together to open R’s birthday presents. Everything was nice and calm, the children were relaxed, the tea-lights made the lounge look cosy and R. was very happy with his presents, when Beccy rang to wish R. a Happy Birthday. I had Isadora on the line telling me “I love you Aunty K. and I want to come to and visit you for some birthday cake.” when suddenly Belle ran off with one of R.s new cars, which caused an outraged R. to holler and howl, the dog to bark and the door bell to ring. G. went to open the door and I had to try and hold the dog in one hand and the phone in the other. Veerle entered the room with an orange judo belt for J. when Belle, who had managed to escape my clutches, ran down the corridor and in through the lounge. She leapt up and nearly knocked poor Veerle off her feet. R. was still screaming for his lost toy, the dog was still barking and our guest was about to be fall head first onto the floor.
“Err Aunty K will call you back Isadora. Sorry about that …”
And then there was the time on Thursday when we had an appointment at the hospital for J. and K. who have both been suffering from the flu. J. more so than K.
On Friday evening G. and I had been out to see an awful play in the theatre but afterwards had a fun time going for a drink with Tom and Ben. When we came home though we discovered J. had caught the stomach flu and was throwing up violently.. He survived the stomach flu and on Sunday came down with the flu and wasn’t the same for the rest of the week. We managed to make a 12.30 appointment with a paediatrician in the hospital but before G. left he went to pick up R and L from school.
K.M. was sitting huddled in the corridor and J. was retching in the loo, when G. arrived. He parked the car a bit further up from the house and I went out to help him get R. and L. into the house. As I plucked a struggling, wriggling R. out of the car, I spotted with one eye Belle wandering off in the park opposite the house. She was happily wagging her tail and sniffing around like a teenager in possession of a driving licence for the first time. The street across from us was busy with traffic and one man waved frantically at me pointing at Belle.
Outside our front door I could see Mvr de Cooman standing, wanting to ask us about whether we’d heard from the builders about fixing a communal wall. R. was still wriggling and wailing under my arm and refusing to go inside when Belle spotted me and tail a-wagging ran back across the road avoiding the cars by inches.
I bundled R. inside and slammed the door shut. At least he was safe albeit his crying could be heard the other side of the front-door.
“Belle, Belle come hear” I said, calmly and sweetly as she bounded up and down the pavement and in between the feet of Mvr de Cooman. I didn’t want her to dash off but she just wasn’t buying my tactic and bolted off again across the road for the third time. I crossed the road.
“Belle! Bella! Come here” but every time I approached her she backed off and ran further away. Luckily G. saw what was happening and got out of the car to give me a hand.
“K. this isn’t working.” G said. “I have to go. We’ve got the doctors appointment in ten minutes and I don’t want to miss it.”
“I know. I know” I said but still the wretched dog wouldn’t come. Belle wasn’t about to give up her new found freedom just yet.
In the end G. managed to grab her by the collar and I carried her across the road and into the house. I just saw G. drive off with two very pale looking faces on the back seat.
Take a couple of weeks ago when I picked the kids up from school at lunch time on Wednesday and J.’s friend, Predip, came home with us for some lunch and to play Pokemon cards with J.
Having successfully managed to round all five kids together, put them safely on their bikes and got the caravan of school kids, enormous satchels and bikes moving down the cobbled street, Predip, who was riding J.’s bike, announced that the chain had come off.
At around 12.05 on a Wednesday, this part of town is heaving with school kids who are either ambling home by foot in large adolescent groups, or are whizzing past on their bikes. Paridaens is only one of three huge schools all located within spitting distance of each other. Occasionally a brave driver ventures in between the mayhem in an attempt to get as close as possible to the school gates. Adding to all of this is the fact that for the past two years the Irish Franciscan College opposite Paridaens is being renovated from top to bottom and the work has swung around to the part of the College that faces J., K., L. and R.s school. By the time that the chain had come off we were a bit further up from a belching truck delivering cement to the Franciscan College.
Predip couldn’t manage to turn the bike over to fix the chain so I had to get off my bike, order L. off the bike, tell K.M to halt and unstrap R. from his seat on the back of the bike.
Ten minutes later and I still hadn’t managed to get the chain on. Luckily Guy walked past just at that moment and within a couple of minutes he’d managed to get the chain fixed and the bike in proper working order.
“Oh thanks a lot Guy.” I said “That’s great.”
“OK everyone ready to get going again. Err where is R? Has anyone seen R?” Amidst all the crowd of school children bikes and cars it was impossible to find a little three year old.
Having concentrated so hard on attaching the chain I had completely forgotten about R. and he had scarped somewhere.
We looked up and down, J. began to cry, the parked truck began to slowly move its hulking mass towards where we had all stopped.
Arnaud, Guy’s little boy, spotted R. over on the Damiaan Square so I ran over to pick him up, strap him struggling to his seat, order L. onto her bike and head for home.
And then there was the time on R.’s third birthday last week when I had managed to gather the family together to open R’s birthday presents. Everything was nice and calm, the children were relaxed, the tea-lights made the lounge look cosy and R. was very happy with his presents, when Beccy rang to wish R. a Happy Birthday. I had Isadora on the line telling me “I love you Aunty K. and I want to come to and visit you for some birthday cake.” when suddenly Belle ran off with one of R.s new cars, which caused an outraged R. to holler and howl, the dog to bark and the door bell to ring. G. went to open the door and I had to try and hold the dog in one hand and the phone in the other. Veerle entered the room with an orange judo belt for J. when Belle, who had managed to escape my clutches, ran down the corridor and in through the lounge. She leapt up and nearly knocked poor Veerle off her feet. R. was still screaming for his lost toy, the dog was still barking and our guest was about to be fall head first onto the floor.
“Err Aunty K will call you back Isadora. Sorry about that …”
And then there was the time on Thursday when we had an appointment at the hospital for J. and K. who have both been suffering from the flu. J. more so than K.
On Friday evening G. and I had been out to see an awful play in the theatre but afterwards had a fun time going for a drink with Tom and Ben. When we came home though we discovered J. had caught the stomach flu and was throwing up violently.. He survived the stomach flu and on Sunday came down with the flu and wasn’t the same for the rest of the week. We managed to make a 12.30 appointment with a paediatrician in the hospital but before G. left he went to pick up R and L from school.
K.M. was sitting huddled in the corridor and J. was retching in the loo, when G. arrived. He parked the car a bit further up from the house and I went out to help him get R. and L. into the house. As I plucked a struggling, wriggling R. out of the car, I spotted with one eye Belle wandering off in the park opposite the house. She was happily wagging her tail and sniffing around like a teenager in possession of a driving licence for the first time. The street across from us was busy with traffic and one man waved frantically at me pointing at Belle.
Outside our front door I could see Mvr de Cooman standing, wanting to ask us about whether we’d heard from the builders about fixing a communal wall. R. was still wriggling and wailing under my arm and refusing to go inside when Belle spotted me and tail a-wagging ran back across the road avoiding the cars by inches.
I bundled R. inside and slammed the door shut. At least he was safe albeit his crying could be heard the other side of the front-door.
“Belle, Belle come hear” I said, calmly and sweetly as she bounded up and down the pavement and in between the feet of Mvr de Cooman. I didn’t want her to dash off but she just wasn’t buying my tactic and bolted off again across the road for the third time. I crossed the road.
“Belle! Bella! Come here” but every time I approached her she backed off and ran further away. Luckily G. saw what was happening and got out of the car to give me a hand.
“K. this isn’t working.” G said. “I have to go. We’ve got the doctors appointment in ten minutes and I don’t want to miss it.”
“I know. I know” I said but still the wretched dog wouldn’t come. Belle wasn’t about to give up her new found freedom just yet.
In the end G. managed to grab her by the collar and I carried her across the road and into the house. I just saw G. drive off with two very pale looking faces on the back seat.
posted by Kathleen at 5:58 AM
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