CONVERSATIONS WITH PUFFY THE FISH

 A conversation is like a journey, with the speakers going from one place to another. Or a good tennis match. Where the ball goes from one player to the other. And back. In other words, there’s reciprocation happening. You say something and I reciprocate. And then I say something and you reciprocate. And then we both feel heard and understood and all tingly because somebody “gets” us.

Examples of good sentences to use for satisfying conversation:

• Let’s go back to what you were saying earlier.
• Can we return to the previous point?
• I can’t quite see where you’re heading?
• I’m listening – Go on!
• We’ve covered a lot of ground.
• I was just coming on to that.
• You’re on the right/wrong track.
• We’ve wandered off the topic.
• We keep going round and round in circles. Lets get to a point and then have some tea.

Non-conversation goes something like this: ( and I regularly have it with some acquaintances)

“So how’ve you been?”

“Well, I….”

“You know what I did yesterday? yada yada yada yada yada yada ………….”

“I……”

“And you say the kids are well?”

“Yes, they…….”

“My son at varsity is coming to visit and yada yada yada yada yada yada………..”

“I once………….”

“And did I tell you about yada yada yada yada yada yada yada   X100………………”

“I……………..”

” You’re awfully quiet today, what’s going on?”

“Actually, I…….”

“You know, yesterday I said to yada yada yada yada yada yada yada yada…..”

 

THIS IS NOT CONVERSATION.

This is me swallowing so much air I need to leave the room and go and swear somewhere. LOUDLY.

 

 

(ps. Thanks for listening.

I feel all tingly now because somebody “gets me” . And I think we’ve reached a satisfying point, don’t you? )

Tea?

CHANGE YOUR THINKING, CHANGE YOUR CHILD

“I want milk! In a bottie! Where’s my lappie? Where’s Grandma? I wanna call Grammmmmmmaaaaaaaaaaa!! I want Cream Soda. In a blue cup. And a pink joghurt. No! Not THAT spoon! The other one! I want my story! I wanna make a pee! I wanna make a poo! Come wipe meeeeeeee!!! I wanna paint! On red paper! Where’s my clay? …..”( repeat sequence twice on a good night, 5 times or more on a bad )

“I want………………..”

“Ihuh……………”

“…….”

And…….HE’S OUT.

Ah, bedtime. A lesson in avoidance tactics. You can commend my son for creativity.

Which brings me to the point.

Thinking differently .

OLD THOUGHT	NEW THOUGHT
His whining is driving me to drink.	He is determined.
His fighting sleep is driving me to drink.	He has an alert, active mind.
His insisting on watching Disney 309 is driving me to drink.	He has an interest in the entertainment industry.
His not wanting to get into a bath is driving me to drink.	He is a “Camel man” , outdoorsy, adventurous type.
His not wanting to get out of the bath is driving me to drink.	He is experimenting with the properties of water and is scientifically inspired.
His not wanting to eat is driving me to drink.	He is able to discern when he is really hungry and thus will never “comfort eat”.
His taking apart toys is driving me to drink.	He could become an engineer.
The constant mess he makes is driving me to drink.	He has a free spirit.
His yelling is driving me to drink.	He could have a future in politics.

See? I have a creative, inquisitive,intelligent, active, assertive child with a future in engineering/television/science/politics.

What’s not to love?

“MA, I’M NOT YOUR MIRROR! I’M ME!”

It’s so very, very easy to see our kids as a reflection of ourselves. And more scary, to see them as an “opportunity” to remake our lives. I always said I want  CONFIDENT children. Because, once I (me) turned that corner into teenagehood, my life fell apart to the point of developing social phobia.

I was confident to the extreme in primary school.  I still remember the first day of grade 1. The night before, I was so excited I couldn’t sleep. I lay staring at  my brandnew white and blue checked uniform  hanging from the cupboard door.  I just couldn’t wait to put it on and take on the wide world out there!

Once in the classroom, I plonked myself down in the front row, next to a very cute but crying BOY.

I couldn’t comprehend this crying over such a big adventure ahead of us! New friends, books, learning to write…..such exciting things!

And then, I turned 13. I had to get glasses, I put on weight. My school uniform hung beneath my knees. I was a “koek”. ( English : “nerd”, “uncool” )

I got teased. Endlessly. Over my nose, my glasses, my weight, my lack of sporting ability, my talent for music.

Until all my confidence evaporated into thin air. No matter how hard I tried, High School put on another kind of pressure. The pressure to be cute, sporty, part of the “in crowd”.

Looking back now, it was all a storm in a tea cup really. But not to my teenage self! I tried every trick in the book to get to magical “cool” status, but nothing worked! Trying too hard is exactly the opposite of “cool” , isn’t it?

Back to my kids. Farmerboy has been described as “too pretty to be a boy”. Ironic , that.

And hell, yes, it makes me feel good to hear it. He’s also stubborn, wildly active, curious and loud.

But those are all things that HE is.

They are not a reflection of ME. His life cannot be the mirror I look into to see a better reflection of myself.

I have some role to play, but he is a unique , seperate being.

He might end up as a ramp model that playes the bassoon  as well as  cricket and have a keen interest in world politics.

He might. But then again, he might not.

But his path will be HIS path.

NOT MINE.

THAT SONOFABITCH

Image via Wikipedia

This one comes compliments of sis M up in Jhb ( the very clever and efficient travel agent ……….if I can’t boast about my family on my blog then where can I ??? 🙂

A little boy was doing his maths homework.
He said to himself, “Two plus five, the son of a b!tch is seven.
Three plus six, the son of a b!tch is nine…”
His mother heard what he was saying and gasped, “What are you doing?”
The little boy answered, “I’m doing my maths homework, Mom.”

“And this is how your teacher taught you to do it?” the mother asked.
“Yes,” he answered.
Infuriated, the mother asked the teacher the next day, “What are you teaching my son in maths?”
The teacher replied, “Right now, we are learning addition.”
The mother asked, “And are you teaching them to say two plus two, the Son Of a b!tch is four?”
After the teacher stopped laughing, she answered,

“What I taught  them was, two plus two, THE SUM OF WHICH, is four.”