Showing posts with label Twitter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Twitter. Show all posts

Thursday, 6 July 2017

That thing when...

... you click on your child's school Twitter feed, hoping to see a picture of them enjoying themselves on their week away doing Wholesome Outdoor Activities, but knowing it's something of a fool's errand because previous experience has shown that they are clearly working on their camera avoidance skills (perhaps they have a great future ahead as a spy?), as they NEVER appear on photos on these trips. Every other child in the class seems to appear with impressive regularity, but yours?  No.

Yes - I know all about that.

But this year, bloggie mates, I made Arrangements to Deal with It.

This year, I bought said child a red baseball hat, and ensured that not one but two red fleeces made it into the suitcase.  Not only would he be visible - if he DID make it into the shot - but based on my admittedly limited understanding of what teachers look for when they point and shoot, a child in a bright colour makes a much better subject than one in navy, black or dark grey.

I know - it's a long shot.  Truthfully, I never really thought it would work.

Today, however, I clicked on the school's feed and there he was; Boy #2 in a starring role kayaking, on climbing walls, hanging out with his mates whilst waiting for another day of Wholesomeness Outdoors, and so on.  All the while in red hat, fleece, or both.

Well, friends, that did it; I got cocky and decided that if Boy #2 was so highly visible then his older brother - far less camera-shy - must be visible in at least a couple of photos of HIS school trip.

But no.  Not a whiff of him, kayaking, climbing or otherwise.  And you know why?  No red baseball hat, no red fleece, that's why.

Lesson learned.






Wednesday, 13 February 2013

In which I wonder if Rome & I have reached the end of the line...

So, yesterday I wrote about Lent and - briefly - about being Roman Catholic.  Then this morning I saw this post by one of my favourite bloggers of all time, Wife in the North.

Judith O'Reilly is one of the reasons I blog.  When I started writing online, she had just secured a contract for the book of her blog 'Wife in the North' and she's a far braver, more open, lay it out there blogger than I am or could ever be.  We met around 3 years ago and it's because she suggested it that I set up my twitter account (so now I come to think of it Judith, you're the one to blame for my inability to get things done...).

In the post I've linked to, she expresses perfectly the ambivalence I'm currently feeling towards the church of my childhood.

I teach my sons that girls are just as good as they are (and of course, that they are just as good as girls are), and that they should never assume something is off-limits to someone simply because of their gender.  And yet, here I am, using as a framework for their spiritual education a structure which is outdated and which preaches and practices a viewpoint of women's importance and relevance that frankly has few touchpoints or crossovers with my existence and experiences as a woman in 21st century western civilisation.

I want to be Catholic.  It's a deep and important part of who I am.  I am educating my sons as such.  But the fact that I care so little about who is the next man to wear the Pope's ruby slippers tells me something has to change, and I'm guessing it won't be the viewpoints of the dinosaurs in Rome.

Friday, 23 March 2012

My week in tweets...

I've jumped on Jo at Slummy Single Mummy's bandwagon, to bring you a week in tweets.*



* A quick note for those who don't indulge in the filthy habit of tweeting. First off, what do you do with all that spare time? Secondly, there is a limit of 140 characters (including spaces) per tweet, hence the shortness of each message. Thirdly, what follows may not be entirely true. The best tweets are frequently exaggerated versions of reality. But then again, so are some blogs, so same old, same old there then...



Monday: Freezing o/s so I post on hypothetical issue of wearing fur in cold climates in hope of warming up with a heated debate. No takers, dammit.



Tuesday: On snowy forest walk, I spot a dog wearing snow suit & bootees, but with crown jewels left proudly on display. Seems cruel to me...



Wednesday: On weekly shop, consider getting into a spat with v. square babushka over last broccoli. She resembles prow of a ship; decide best not.



Thursday: Boy2 collides with climbing frame in the school playground; the frame wins. Apparently he is now off games FOR EVER. Or til gym tomorrow.



Friday: Spend hrs slaving over pizza (dough from scratch & everything) only to have Boys tell me they ‘like it 50%’. Back to Dr Oetker nxt wk.



Saturday: Climb on scales and decide to fetch my glasses. Take glasses off again as they clearly add to the problem. Ruddy left-over pizza.



Sunday: We are out of Diet Coke. Panic, & break into emergency chocolate to counteract caffeine low. Try to ignore the irony of this act...

Friday, 2 December 2011

The Twelve Days of a Parent's Christmas

This post was inspired by Hot Cross Mum and Expat Mum, following a Twitter conversation about boys, loos, and needing to clean the bathroom floor more often than we might like. I'll leave you to join the dots together yourself on the subject... At any rate Hot Cross Mum took that start point and created her own version of 'The Twelve Days of Christmas' - and challenged us (in my 'oh, I'm not competitive at all' head, anyway) to do the same.

Obviously she's already mined the rich seam that is boys and the loo, so I was forced to look elsewhere - to something else that is currently at the forefront of my experience - and have re-written The Twelve Days of Christmas to a children's illness theme...

To be sung - in your head only, please - to the tune of The Twelve Days of Christmas...


On the first day of Christmas, my children gave to me: a headache and a high temperature.

On the second day of Christmas, my children gave to me; 2 snotty tissues, and a headache and a high temperature.

On the third day of Christmas, my children gave to me; 3 hits of Calpol, 2 snotty tissues, and a headache and a high temperature.

On the fourth day of Christmas, my children gave to me; 4 missed appointments, 3 hits of Calpol, 2 snotty tissues, and a headache and a high temperature.

On the fifth day of Christmas, my children gave to me: 5 broken nights.... 4 missed appointments, 3 hits of Calpol, 2 snotty tissues, and a headache and a high temperature.

On the sixth day of Christmas my children gave to me: 6 concerned grandparent messages, 5 broken nights.... 4 missed appointments, 3 hits of Calpol, 2 snotty tissues, and a headache and a high temperature.

On the seventh day of Christmas, my children gave me to me; 7 hours internet shopping, 6 concerned grandparent messages, 5 broken nights.... 4 missed appointments, 3 hits of Calpol, 2 snotty tissues, and a headache and a high temperature.

On the 8th day of Christmas, my children gave me to me; 8 days missed homework, 7 hours internet shopping, 6 concerned grandparent messages, 5 broken nights.... 4 missed appointments, 3 hits of Calpol, 2 snotty tissues, and a headache and a high temperature.

On the 9th day of Christmas, my children gave to me; 9 doctor's notes, 8 days missed homework, 7 hours internet shopping, 6 concerned grandparent messages, 5 broken nights.... 4 missed appointments, 3 hits of Calpol, 2 snotty tissues, and a headache and a high temperature.

On the 10th day of Christmas, my children gave to me; 10 messed up bedrooms, 9 doctor's notes, 8 days missed homework, 7 hours internet shopping, 6 concerned grandparent messages, 5 broken nights.... 4 missed appointments, 3 hits of Calpol, 2 snotty tissues, and a headache and a high temperature.

On the 11th day of Christmas, my children gave to me; 11 sweaty pj's, 10 messed up bedrooms, 9 doctor's notes, 8 days missed homework, 7 hours internet shopping, 6 concerned grandparent messages, 5 broken nights.... 4 missed appointments, 3 hits of Calpol, 2 snotty tissues, and a headache and a high temperature.

On the 12th day of Christmas, my children gave to me; 12 'I'm so boo-oo-red's, 11 sweaty pj's, 10 messed up bedrooms, 9 doctor's notes, 8 days missed homework, 7 hours internet shopping, 6 concerned grandparent messages, 5 broken nights.... 4 missed appointments, 3 hits of Calpol, 2 snotty tissues, and a headache and a high temperature.


Update:

Nappy Valley Girl has jumped on board with this one too - click here for a link - and so has Iota at Not Wrong Just Different. If you're inspired to do like wise, leave a comment telling me where to check and I'll add yours here too...