Cranky

Let's just suppose I'm in despair.  Does Clarion do a mid-life crises special?  Should I just get a tattoo, like some people?  I could just change the blog title to "Will Whine for Free."

Really, I don't know what I'm complaining about, exactly.  Nothing's really wrong, I still have a better life than, say, 90% of the planet, socio-economically speaking, and yet there is something lacking.  I have blogged about the lack of real-life writer buddies a lot (I'm too lazy to look for the links, though) and try as I might, I still can't come up with any solution that doesn't involve leaving this country.  Don't get me wrong, Bloglodytes- I love you guys.  But there's just nothing like someone who lives 10 minutes away threatening to come and bludgeon you with a 400g block of Switzerland's Finest if you dangle one more sodding preposition or switch pov twice on the same page.  Then there's the warm fuzzy feeling of being able to offer such supportive bludgeoning services in return.  I'm not asking for solutions to this problem- it's pretty insoluble unless Kelly Link or Neil Gaiman moves in down the road (Ah, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!) but I just need to whine.  We now return to our regularly scheduled sommer.

Which includes:
1) Wishing my cat would come home :(
2) Teaching Prima all the math and English her pos teachers have failed to teach her over the last few years so she can have a good start in the new school.
3) Trying to keep Middlekid and Thirdling from killing each other- now that Middlekid is going to the upper school, puberty/sibling rivalry seems to be in overdrive.
4) Trying NOT to declare Switzerland to be the most boring country on the planet.  Yes, the Alps are gorgeous, now GET OVER IT, already, and realise that Heidi makes lousy company!
5) Going to visit this guy, who should be cloned and seeded all over Switzerland, because he makes great company.

Sorry to be so grumpy in such fine weather, Bloglodytes.  Must be the donut deficiency talking...

I Feel Like a Washcloth Someone Left on the Motorway

I'm feeling a bit wrung out and run over. Maybe there should be hyphens in those. I'm too kaput to check, that's how bad it is. Buffy the bushy-tailed rodent would be angry and I don't blame her (see? see? that should be 'wouldn't' not 'don't'!)

Oh, nevermind.

Hi Robin, and everybody else. The rest of the exchange thing went ok. It was frustrating sometimes because it was clear that Randy was bored, but the French kids seemed to have been trained (Prima heard this from other kids in class) never to say what they want so we spent a week guessing. Prima spent a week in France, with Randy's five year old sister wrapped around her leg. The little girl cried when she left. Prima had a great time with her French family and some fun with her class but...

We are changing schools again. I know there must be some nice kids in her class, and I know that Prima has developed a rather defensive, hedgehog like manner (no offense, FHH; you are the softest and cuddliest of hedgehogs except when action is called for) so the kids in her class are only partly to blame. The defensiveness puts a lot of kids off, and we are trying to fix this. Not easy to teach natural self-confidence to a thirteen year old- since I have zip myself. But I've had it with the few spoiled alpha rich kids that seem to set the tone for everyone, and from the few parents meetings we've had. Well... I would probably feel differently if I got to know them better, but at first glance, my instinct is to avoid them like the plague.

Anyway, there is a list of French to be learned for the new school (haven't looked yet to see how much they overlapped), and we need to see if she is at the same place in math, so it will be a busy summer (six weeks instead of five this year, though, which is good). Sorry, bloglodytes, I know I'm rambling awfully, but my head feels like a coconut with a bicycle pump hooked up to it. A couple more notes before I drag myself out to the garden shed to write:

1. Our cat is missing. This is really putting a damper on our summer fun. She's not fixed so we're desperately hoping she just out having a good time and will come home full of kittens, but we fear the worst. It's been more than a week.

2. My daughter got a 4.5 in English. For those of you familiar with letter grades, that's about a C. For a native English speaker, this is ludicrous. The teacher said she graded her harder and gave her different tasks because she is a native English speaker, but you don't give a kid who already knows algebra trigonometry to do and then give them a crappy algebra grade if they can't hack the trig, right? I mean, to the rest of the world, it just looks like she got a terrible grade in the first year of English as a foreign language. Won't miss the English teacher, that's for sure. For the birds, this is. Like Yoda, I sound. Donut, I need.

3. Happy Independance Day, Americanskis out there!

Now don't just sit there- go write something. (Preferably in the comment trail ;)

Junior Polyglots and Fun with Babel Fish.

We live in the German speaking part of Switzerland. Prima's school has come up with a mad scheme to truck a bus load of kids over from France for a week and deposit one in our house. We'll call him... ok, lets call him Randy. He seems like a nice kid. Prima wrote to him (in French) to ask him what he wants to do when he's here. He wrote back in German. Any senior polyglots out there?

"Das Schokoladenwerk werde wirklich sein, weil wir dorthin mit der Klasse nicht gehen. Sonst für dich, werde du gern haben, nach Paris zu gehen, wenn du dort noch, nicht zu gehen. Wenn du noch nicht kennst, ist das nicht ernst, wir werden sehen, wenn du kommen wirst. Auf Wiedersehen und in in ein in den Wochen."

So. This doesn't entirely make sense. We decided to run it through Babel Fish and make it French again to see if it made more sense:

"Le travail de chocolat sera vrai, parce que nous n'allons pas là avec la classe. D'ailleurs, pour te, tu auras volontiers aller à Paris, si tu là encore ne pas aller pas. Si tu ne connais pas encore, ce n'est pas sérieux, nous devient voit, si tu viendras. Sur revoir et dans les semaines."

Prima claims it makes more sense this way, but I don't understand a word of French, so we ran it through again:

"The chocolate work will be true, because us n' let us not go there with the class. D' elsewhere, for you, you will have readily to go to Paris, if you still not to go there not. If you do not know yet, this n' is not serious, becomes us sees, if you will come. On re-examining and in the weeks. "

This is going to be an interesting week. Reckon Randy talks as good as he writes?

Proactive! (No, I don't mean that yogurt that makes sure you poop regularly.)

Maybe it's the kids being home, or the pollen, or fill in the blank, but in any case, I've haven't written more than 1000 words in the last two weeks.  The clouds of volcanic ash have ruined my plans to slither off undetected to the Faroe Islands.  Since they were purely fantasy anyway (my plans, not the clouds of volcanic ash) this is perhaps all for the best.  So what to do?  I just don't seem to be getting any work done at my desk, and renting a room close-bye hasn't worked out.  That leaves- yes:

The Garden Shed.

The mess.

The new space!

Prima is still off today, but Thirdling and Middlekid are back to school, so I tried out my new space.  No phone, no computer, nothing.  (Also no heat, so this is likely to be a summer thing)  For the most part, I'm pleased.  There were some minor hitches today - the cat thinks trotting around on the roof while I'm inside trying to concentrate is fun, and they decided to clean out the drainage sewer in the street right next to it, which made so much noise it literally rattled the shed, but these are small things.  And I even wrote a couple of pages!  So, we'll see what comes of it.

Take that, all you evil rejections! 

Lying *Will* Haunt You. (eventually...)

One of the things I love about momming is what your kids teach you. They start out with one and only one communication skill- crying. You watch them develop, and watch their body language develop. This is fun, because at some point, they will attempt to lie. They will get better at lying. You will get better at telling if they are lying, they will get better at hiding it, and like virus and anti-virus, both working frantically to develop and mutate faster than the other guy, you do battle.

When my kids were quite little, I would just say, "I know you are lying." Because they were, and we both knew it. They would ask "How do you know?" I was not about to tell them; sometimes I wasn't even sure which bit of body language had given them away, but in any case, I wasn't about to hand over my secret decoder ring to the other side, so I told them, "when you lie, your nose turns purple. Only moms who have been to momschool can see it. Kids can't." (Momschool is something else I tell them about; perhaps I'll blog on that later.) Prima daughter then made my life even easier by casually sticking anything she could find in front of her face when she lied. It was really hard not to laugh. I'd be thinking: it's time to be stern now, don't laugh! And she'd be carrying on a conversation with a stuffed fish in the middle of her face, hoping I wouldn't cotton.

Now. Prima grew out of this, and I'm happy to say we have a good relationship, with very little lying. Middlekid and Thirdling got in a fight yesterday. Both came to me yelling "she did it, she hit me first!" and so on. After the obligatory lecture about 'it doesn't matter who hit who first, no one should have hit second either,' I told them they would have to sort it out because I wasn't there and I would never know the truth. Now the problem; Middlekid said "but mommy, you said our noses turn purple when we lie."
Middlekid is 10. I did not realise she still believed it. I should have; I remember being totally crushed around that age when my mom told me there was no such thing as Santa Clause. And then the Duh-Award drops out of the sky onto my obviously very soft head: This is so totally what I deserve for using a lie to control their lying. Oh, the maternal guilt! You have no idea...

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So. I'm off to the hospital for another d&c tomorrow. Wish me luck, blogland. (place cool, animated frowny face icon here)