Losing my religion...

About two weeks ago, Dylan informed me that they say a prayer in school every day at Assembly.  I was furious!

I was never opposed to all prayer in schools.  A lot of us would say prayers together before drill team competitions, volleyball games, plays and the like.  But I AM against the entire school coming together and praying.

It's not like I am against prayer.  We have taught both our children to pray.  I'm just worried that he's learning the "wrong" kind of prayers.

I was actually that parent who spoke to his teacher about it at parents' night--demanding to know all the details and asking why I wasn't informed they were doing it.    After all, it's a State school, not a Church of England school.  She actually offered to take him out of the room during the prayer if I felt it necessary.

Isn't that funny?  We probably go to church more in one week than most of the people at his school go to in a year, and I'm the one who pitched a (mini) fit about prayers in Assembly...

Maybe I'm too American in this regard.  I was raised to believe in a separation of Church and State, and anything other than that just seems wrong.

At any rate, I am not making Dylan leave Assembly for prayers.  I am just informed now, so I can do religious damage control at home if needs be.  I want him praying the way I teach him, not the way his school Head teaches him.

I can't wait to get Dylan in an American school.  NOT because they are superior to English schools, mind you.  Just because I am more familiar with what goes on over there than I am over here.  It's all so, well, foreign!

With friends like these...

...who needs enemies. 

No clever puns or plays on words.  Just that.

I think I have a "frenemy," and I have been reminded over the last few days why I always preferred to have male friends.

This friend of mine always makes me feel like a bad person when I talk to her.  And it always has to be me who contacts her.  She humiliates me on public forums (like Facebook--not private messages, but on her Wall).  She told me that she'd seen my husband cheating on me. 

So why do we stay friends?  I really like hanging out with her.  She's fun, smart, witty, and intelligent.  Once upon a time, we were really good friends.

Or maybe I just don't want to admit that my initial judgment of her could have been so wrong.

I can't stand "girl games."  I've never been able to.  Even Martin was surprised by the way that I don't do passive-aggressive guilt tripping and barbed compliments.  For the longest time, he would assume that I was playing little mind games with him.  But I say what I mean, and I mean what I say--and I assume that other people do the same.  This is a good thing, but it's left me ill-equipped when it comes to dealing with people who DO like to play games. 

I don't understand why you'd even remain "friends," whether on Facebook or in real life, with someone you didn't like.  If she doesn't like me, she should just tell me so, un-friend me, and move on.  It would be an easy thing to delete her mobile number from my contacts.  I have a very busy (if somewhat dull) life and wouldn't miss the barbed compliments, accusations of nastiness, public humiliation, highlighting of character flaws, and lies about my husband's fidelity.

Why are women so horrible to other women?

On the flip side, I had a lovely couple of girlie hours with Emma today (so now you know it's not her)!  The kids went to Hall Farm with their grandparents, so Emma and I had a garra fish pedicure, shopped at the local charity shops, and got some lunch.  She reminded me of why it's nice to have girlfriends.  She is such a lovely person--a genuinely kind, caring woman who I really admire.

Obviously, though, I like my "frenemy" as well.  Otherwise, what she said wouldn't bother me.  Because, quite honestly, I don't give a toss what most people think of me.  Just the ones I care about.

Ugh.  The politics of friendship are so complicated.  It makes me just want to lock my door and only hang out with my children.  They are so simple and honest.  They don't have any ridiculous social filters yet, and they ALWAYS tell the truth.

One of those days...

I love my job.  No, really.  I do.  But every once in a while I just get fed up with being a full time stay-at-home mom.  Today was definitely one of those days.  But more so.  Today I was just fed up of having kids at all.

The last 24 hours have brought urine and squash on my carpet, crayon on my walls, the iPod speaker getting dropped (and possibly broken), toys left on the floor and stepped on (I hate Lego) and a creeping and pervasive mess in my house. 

I just feel as though the kids are gradually turning everything we own into absolute crap!

I remember one day not long after my grandpa died when I broke a bowl.  It was an accident.  I opened the cupboard and it fell onto the ceramic tile floor in my parents' kitchen.  My mom screamed at me, and then she started sobbing.  Her parents had bought her those dishes when she got married, and she was devastated when that bowl broke.  I thought she was being ridiculous at the time.

I so get that now.

Nobody tells you when you start this whole parenting thing that all your stuff will be systematically destroyed.  You know, it would probably be really good birth control if they did.

I love my little mess makers, but jeez louise, enough already.

Tomorrow should be a better day.

ARGH!!!

Dylan has an annoying new habit.  It's even worse than the incessant "Why?"

He asks a question (or makes an observation). 

We answer the question (or acknowledge the observation, because he's Dylan and he won't shut up until you acknowledge his comments).

Then, 10 seconds later, HE ASKS THE QUESTION AGAIN!

Seriously, the kid is making me crazy.

Oh, and for some reason Edith has started freaking out if she doesn't have her feet covered. 

My little neurotics.

They say the apple never falls far from the tree, right?  So who's the nut job--me or Martin?

Ooooh, don't answer that, ok?

A revelation...

Sometimes my bathroom really reeks. 

The smell seems to be coming from the toilet, so I often bleach it and scrub it to get rid of the smell.  Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. 

Last night, as I was getting the kids into the bath, I looked down into the (empty) laundry hamper.  It was wet.  I wondered aloud, how on earth did the hamper get wet?  And Dylan told me...

"Sorry mom, I accidentaly peed in there."

So the times when the bleach worked probably coincided with laundry day.

Sometimes it is awesome having a not-quite-four-year-old boy living in the house.

Hey, at least now I know.

Right?

Nobody makes you crazier than family...

...and since my siblings and parents are an ocean and a continent (plus a small island) away, it can only be my in-laws. 

My sister-in-law has not spoken to my father-in-law since August of last year.  Though spilling the beans on the reason for the family feud would, no doubt, boost readership of my blog, it's not my gossip to share.  Suffice it to say that he is mostly wrong but partly right and too stubborn to bend.  She is mostly right but also slightly wrong, and it is really none of her business.  And she inherited the stubborn gene from her father so also will not bend.  It's a messy situation that makes it hard for the rest of the family to function normally.

I had a little conversation with her about how disgusted she is with her mother right now.  She's very angry because "Mum is putting her husband before her own children, and that's just not right."

I feel like I should mention at this point that my sister-in-law is 28 years old.

I love my children to pieces.  I really do.  I would do anything for them, because they are my babies--my own flesh and blood.  And right now they are my number one priority because their father can, for the most part, take care of himself.  They cannot, because they are young and dependent.  But part of the reason I love my children so much is because I had them with the man I love more than anyone else in the whole world.  I'm not wishing their childhood away, but I am sincerely looking forward to the time when my relationship with my husband can take top priority again. 

When Dylan and Edith are grown up, will I put my husband before them? 

Um, is the Pope Catholic?

I'm pretty sure I'm not the only mother out there who feels this way.  Can I get an "Amen"?

I know that my mother loves me (and all my sisters and my brother as well).  I know she would do anything for me.  But I also know that I would never ask her to choose between me and her husband.  What a completely selfish thing to do!

Maybe my delightful sister-in-law's feelings will change once she has children of her own.  I really hope they do, because although you are always a mother, sooner or later you have to stop being "mommy" to your grown-up children.

All this from the girl who roundly criticized me for breastfeeding my daughter until she was nearly two.  Pardon my imagery, but you've gotta stop suckling at that (metaphorical) teat eventually. Personally, I think you ought to do it BEFORE you reach thirty.

Phew, I feel so much better now.
 
How funny that I felt the need to post this right before Mothering Sunday.
 
Hmmm...