The troth twixt ‘em..

I was determined not to, wasn’t really interested, but alas, I caved & like millions of others, watched The Royal Wedding. Not because it was the Royal Family, not because I wanted to see the dress, not because there wasn’t anything else on telly either. It was because I, like every other (most, anyways) female on this planet, loves a wedding & moreso, because of my OVER-BLOODY-WHELMING-MATERNALISM. I am SUCH a mother, I could kick myself at times!

The way I thought of it was thus: I have seen this young man grow up, right from birth, to his independence. He has faced challenges many have not. Privileged, yes, but also extremely sheltered, protected & hidden from ‘normalcy’. The death of his mother, a cruel blow that no child should ever have to endure. Perhaps because I feel sorry for him, or feel like he has been a part of my life, I wanted to see this extra-ordinary young man married & happy. I will never meet him and am by no means a Royalist, but the mother in me needed to know he was ok.

Anyhoo… I am amazed at the amount of people questioning the language used during the ceremony! So many asking what troth & twixt mean. Excuse me for appearing pompous, but I, (being no English scholar) could easily work out the general meanings by relating troth to betrothed, being a promise & twixt to betwixt, being between or amongst. It saddens me that today’s younger population don’t seem to have the vocabulary to nut out such meanings or phrases.

Abbreviating words for fun, speed or necessity in limited space is fine in this world of sms, msn & the like, I do it myself, but my mistakes are intentional or meant as a play on words. I really cringe & am quite dismayed that behind this new ‘cyber’ language, a firm grasp of basic English just doesn’t exist in many cases, let alone 'Old English' as The Bard penned.

Perhaps the Dept. of Education should take a serious look at their planning or parents should actually converse with take a greater role in increasing the vocabulary/language/conversation skills of their children. I see kids too lazy to look up a dictionary, Google a meaning or at times, care enough to want to know. It seems instant gratification is their way of life, as if effort has been bred out of them. If they don’t know a word or phrase, use another! Done, dusted & fixed, but nothing new learned.

I don’t know the answer, I do know however, my heart is a little heavier when I consider what is really happening to these future generations...

The Prodigal Son..

I have a black sheep, not of the woolly variety, rather the eldest spurn of my loins/offspring. The arrogant, aggressive, overbearing, LARGEST of my children. Plenty of problems over the years, both for & caused by this particular quarter of my brood.

I had him seeing a paediatric psych at an early age, for anti-social behaviour (diagnosed with anxiety & fed anti-depressants for the condition), have suspected on more than one occasion he may, ever so slightly be on the Autism spectrum (but I’m no expert..) & have coached him for many years on social queues, language, acceptable behaviour etc… Even now, at age 18, he admits to not understanding what people say or mean when they talk.

All his life he clashed with his father, I tried (in vain) to get father to see the good in his son. He is SMART, so academic, it’s not funny, he was athletic (albeit rough on the footy field & black listed by the DDJFL). He was actually head-hunted by division one football clubs, such was his size & skill on the field. He is amusing (when the mood strikes)...Alas, as far as father was concerned, there was not much good to be found. Few father-son activities really occurred.

As prodigal got older, I had father, being not such an effective parent & prodigal being the self-proclaimed ‘protector’. Prodigal tried to step into father’s role, to discipline his siblings & generally rule the roost. More clashes ensued, a battle of wits, although son was the wittier….

Fast forward a number of years:

Prodigal starts drinking (turned up drunk to school), he stays out at night, starts hanging around with a bad crowd, smoking cigarettes & self-harming (smashing up knuckles on brick walls & cutting himself).

Father then moves out, prodigal stays at home & with TONS of support, I make progress. I am the parent, not him! I set the rules, I allow the friends over to my home, supervised (& they get a piece of my mind when needed). I say “no”, A LOT! There are consequences to his actions. I think I have my boy back….

We have travelled rather well over the last two & a half years, there have been ups & downs, of course. I have had to call in the ‘tough love’ on occasion (which has been tougher on me, than him), but hey, MY house, My rules & there are younger children here…I managed to get him to finish his secondary schooling (boy, was that an effort) & now he works full-time in management, running the shifts at McDonalds. Not too bad *pats self on the back*

There are days/weeks when he is horribly rude & utterly disrespectful, both to me & his siblings. There are also days/weeks when he is helpful, courteous & kind. Last week was a VERY bad week, this week is a good week, we have a commonality & I am his ally.

Perhaps my boy has grown up? We shall wait & see....

Question?

I’m finding the whole blogging experience to be exhausting (but therapeutic) at times. My preferred method is to type merrily onto a Publisher document (ah, Publisher, how I love thee) & transfer on to my blog. There is a method in my madness, firstly I am on limited stupid Bigpond wireless internet & it saves my usage & I can re-hash what I write before uploading to the great beyond…

The problem I seem to have is thus: I am writing EPIC posts! Pages & pages of expunging, purging, backgrounds to my stories, memories which pop into my noggin as I spew forth my drama-of-the-day.

So I’m thinking right about now, I could give Tolstoy a run for his money & if he could write War & Peace & have it published in separate volumes, can I? Apart from the fact that I'm so much better looking than him, probably smell better & have a clean shaven face...

Is it proper Blog etiquette to post in parts? Being a newbie, I want to know if this is the done thing, or considered rather blasé & or distasteful.

Feedback please??

Sorry I opened my big mouth!

Here I sit, covered in MDF dust & liquid nails, eating a cheese & onion sandwich or two. In the garage I have set up; my cordless drill, electric sander, jigsaw & workbench. Feeling so very blokey at the moment!

Junior has to build a 'sustainable' house model for school, so as you do, when you're a complete glutton for punishment exceptionally helpful mother, you go the whole-hog. An exact, scale replica of the very first house we ever built, straight off the plan (bar the bay window in the lounge room, too fiddly).

I have discovered I have a penchant for the jigsaw, going swimmingly in the cutting department. The Liquid Nails however, is detemined to defy me at every God-damned turn! Knew I should have stuck to silicone to stick the mofo wonderful little model together.

Windows are a bit crooked, but junior assures me they look good (she would say that, lest I down tools & give her cardboard boxes to construct with).

All this on a Sunday which, truth be told, I would rather be lying in bed, watching bad tv, or snoozing. Usual aches & pains & holding my head up to keep the disc in place is IMPOSSIBLE when I need to look down, or lose a limb to said power tools...

I am, admittedly, THE most 'unco' looking tradie, ever to walk this earth. Here's a giggle for you: I'm wearing trackies & moccies (old ones, of course), an old jacket, holey t-shirt, neck-brace & wrist brace. Haven't done the hair today, so it's all "look at me, I just had a good night" (sleep that is..)

It is cold in the garage, it's raining outside, I DON'T WANNA, but I will, for my baby girl, who deserves this epic, kick-arse project :)

BTW, her sire is a builder & could have possibly knocked this one over in a matter of hours. The fact she didn't even ask him, speaks volumes to me...