Mother’s Got A Dot Com

Since I’ve shared my little domestic woes with you all, I thought I’d bring you up to date with the geysir situation. (For the uninitiated: I’ve had trouble with my water heater gushing hot water on and off for quite some time. Nothing has helped. I’ve had a pressure valve replaced, I’ve given the whole pressure tank system a going over, I’ve had a hose attached to the **** thing to minimize the damage, I’ve listened to more ABBA tunes on plumbers’ phone services than most of you have had hot dinners. To no avail. No one has been able to tell me what was wrong).

Plumber alert is off. Theory # 1 is back in circulation. What, say you, is Theory # 1? Well, it has to do with #6Brat, strangely enough. As the hose on the pressure valve got totally out of control the other day, and I had to turn the heater off completely, I also turned the water intake to the thing off. And what happened when I was half way? No more gushing. I turned the electricity back on, had my shower, and came back to check the situation – nothing. It seems like Theory # 1, involving #6Brat and his busy little fingers, must have been right all along. The water valve is just at 2-year-old-level (must have been designed by a man), and fairly easy to twist.

As of now, I’m holding my thumbs, and I’ve taped the knob stuck in it’s current position. Just like the freezer thermostat, the knobs on the DVD and VHS players, TV and stereo system. And the stove. This place looks like an ad for packageing tape. The only problem is that I don’t have a remote control for the stove, so I have to unwrap it every time.

Oh, well. I hope he’ll gain some sense as he grows older.

I’m lucky. My hubby is not into sports.

He’s not glued to the TV screen 24/7 on weekends, he couldn’t care less if there’s a football match on, or skiing, or whatever. Sport is flicked over in our household.

Now, in my sister’s life, things are different. She has a football fanatic hubby, and three boys. Guess what they’ve inherited? A lifetime membership in the Manchester United (or perhaps Liverpool FC) fan club, that’s what. She’s a patient soul, and grateful for small mercies, like the fact that her hubby sometimes takes all three boys to football matches. In England.

As for me, I don’t get it. I quite like swimming, but not to the point of watching other people doing it. I’ve also been known to enjoy a game of badminton. Actually playing it. Badminton or tennis on TV is like watching paint dry. Skiing, or running? Come on. I know one of them is going to come in a fraction of a second before the others, and I don’t care which one it is. (Don’t try to explain. I still won’t get it).

I’m just eternally grateful that whenever we do manage to travel a bit, there’s no mention of sports events. I know that if we ever manage to make it to USA, New York Yankees tickets will not be on the agenda. We might catch a rodeo though (no, probably not in NYC), to experience a bit of local culture…

#2 Brat is probably moving to Denmark in August – she’s applied to several design colleges there, and has got scores of butterflies in her stomach these days. She’s submitted her application assignments, and is waiting for word on round 2 of the application process.

#1 Brat wants to travel around the world, and is coming back home to work and save money for the adventure. #3 Brat is probably going on to add some academic exams to his CV – he should have gone into apprenticeship as a carpenter, but the building trade is still trembling, and securing a place is difficult. So, he’s doing the sensible thing. #4 Brat is going on to high school.

It looks like we’ll still be 7 people around the dinner table next year, and there’s no chance of a home theater seating arrangement for 2 any time soon. Just as well. Worrying about one at a time is quite enough at the moment. When #1 Brat goes on her world tour, I’ll be worried enough for a lifetime.

Note to self: This summer may be the last chance to take a familiy photo for a loooong time. Grab it!

I’m not feeling up to struggling with various keywords today. My partner in crime blogging has given me a list of weird ones – a long list. I looked at it, and thought what a strange blog I’m going to have for the week to come.

But I’m not in the mood to be creative. Down in the dumps, really. Not at all inspired to insert anything about Argentina travel in a sentence, paragraph or post.

I think I’ll just post another one of Miracle Boy’s self-portraits, just to cheer myself up.

Happy Easter, everyone!

In our case, today has been a Happy Eater, as we invited the inner family circle (which got our number up to 16) to an impromptu barbecue in the sunny side of our yard.

This is how it looked, just a couple of hours ago. In honor of the fact that it had come of age, and was eminently drinkable, we even popped a couple of bottles of 10 year old Margaux.

A very enjoyable afternoon.

Yesterday, Hubby took the monster horse out to try out his new harness, and as you can see, it fits like a glove. The two tiny Brats were taken for a ride, and loved it. Here’s a picture of the monster horse, Hercules, with Brats and handler:

Climbing the Himalayas? Island-hopping in Greece? All very well, surely, but I’m enjoying the coming of spring right here in my own back yard. If that makes me insular, so be it. At least I don’t have to pack a thing, or worry about planes, transfer, hotels, stomach bugs, or whether I could survive on yak milk.
Right now, that’s the way I like it.

Did I remember to wish everyone a Happy Easter? Never mind – one more time won’t hurt.

It wasn’t a bomb. Technically, it wasn’t a bomb threat either, the young lad responsible had sent an email to a major newspaper, threatening with a blood bath/massacre in the next 48 hours.

Whe he saw what commotion he had caused, he turned himself in. According to him, it was an April Fool’s that got out of hand. And that got caught a bit late by the newspaper desk.

Yeah. Slightly. Some of the 1200 kids involved may well be traumatized, but if they can’t take a joke… At least they got an extra day off. That sort of thing gives 3-6 in this country, so the “joke” is on him, you might say.

#2 Brat came home early from school today.

Why?

A bomb threat. The police came in with dogs, armed to the teeth, and got everybody out of there. Apparently, a student from another school had made the threat, although that’s not been confirmed.

No school tomorrow either, so Easter came early this year. For some. Most of the pupils and teachers still have all their stuff there – #2 Brat’s friend was not allowed to take her scooter home, for one.

Good thing they take it seriously – but scary!

I’m not going to whine about the weather or the snow for a while. I promise.

Today has been lovely, the white stuff is melting fast, and I’ve cleared a space on the terrace that’s large enough to put out a few deck chairs. That means we can enjoy a nice cup of cocoa with whipped cream in the sun, while letting the sun tan our faces by reflecting on the white stuff.

I think I’ll just enjoy the coming week. I’ll paint Easter eggs with the Brats, pick birch branches that I’ll put in water to enjoy a bit of spring indoors, buy a great big pot of mini daffodils, and stick my tongue out at the white stuff, as I watch it melt. I’ll not worry about life insurance quotes, unpaid bills or even mortgages, and just enjoy life for a few days.

Wouldn’t it be nice to just vacuum the old mind for any worries, and take a day or two doing time out?

# 1 Brat came home for a flash visit this weekend, bringing a friend from school. Now, the school in question is run on Christian principles, and I thought that maybe I had to be on deCorum watch.

In a household with 4 teenagers, sometimes words are spoken that would not be acceptable in polite society. This is certainly true in this one, and the little 2 1/2 year old tyke is quick to parrot anything he hears too. We tend to try to ignore it, since we’ve experienced that whatever is made a big deal of, just gets more interesting.

However, I’m not one to willingly offend my guests, so I hoped for best behaviour all round. (Let it be said that swearing is not an everyday occurance around our dinner table, and I repeat: we just don’t make a big deal out of it). Anyway – #1 Brat and friend arrived, and in came this beautiful girl, polite, friendly… and then she smiled at me. Revealing a great big “bag” of snuff under her upper lip. I managed to contain myself. I did not laugh.

Prejudice is a strange thing. In hindsight, I failed on at least a couple of counts:

1. Christian people are offended by swearing. Some are. Many though, think as I do, that it’s just words, and what counts is what’s on the inside.
2. Christian girls don’t use snuff. Eh… where did that idea come from? She might well have had deep rooted beliefs, what do I know? We never discussed the matter, and no swearing occurred.

As life is a life-long learning process, I can sum up the weekend’s lesson as follows: Appearances and preconceptions almost always lie. Get to know people first, and then refrain from passing judgment.

Here’s #6Brat, Miracle Boy, taking matters into his own hands. Mum’s taking only snow pictures these days, so he probably thought he’d better put some balance back into the photographing of daily events.

When he saw the picture just now, he said: “Is there a bogeyman in there?” I assured him that there was not, and he concluded he’d probably eaten it. Charming.

With him around, I’ve thought about getting separate insurance quotes for just about everything in this house that has buttons and knobs.

Cameras, TVs, freezers (yes, been there, done that), DVD players, decoders, not to mention computers. My keyboard keys are marked with red permanent ink – doodle fashion. The screen has got regular blue ink doodle marks on it, and all the light switches that are accessible go on and off regularly.

I have to check the under-floor heating several times a day – it’s usually either turned way up or off altogether. We have all sorts of weird VHS recordings, because little mister has been switching channels just as whatever we’ve recorded started to get interesting.

The batteries in our flashlights are permanently depleted, and if he gets hold of my cell phone, he’ll send messages to the first one on my contact list. Every time. Luckily, it’s my aunt, and she thinks he’s the 8th wonder.

The only thing that he leaves alone is the vacuum cleaner. A little man already…