Old and in the way - and sucking it up
0 Comments Published by Oh Wayward One on 08 March 2010 at 3/08/2010 11:27:00 am.
Well!
I got my house back, after a week with the 'rents that was just so non-stop and full on that I didn't have a chance to breathe. Although I did have the opportunity to gain a whole 1.5kg.... NOT HAPPY.
It was a pretty decent trip as far as the parental unit and I go. No fights, no yelling, no pouting or storming off on anyone's part. Which is always an achievement in itself. Only one incident that had the potential to go pear-shaped, but I sucked it up and moved along albeit begrudgingly. And of COURSE it was the most typical, had-to-happen-sometime token induction into the world of grandmother/mother relations... basically, I had my own idea of what LJJs grandfather would be called, and so did Her Royal Highness The Matriarch. But rather than coming right out and saying: "we all know it's ALL ABOUT ME, so therefore I would like him to be referred to as 'Grandpa'", I had to OVERHEAR her bullying Grandpa into submission regarding what HE SHALL BE REFERRED TO AS, period. Obviously Gramps the ever-diplomatic voice of reason put up his best rebuttal ("but...." The End.) and I (boiling over on the inside) broke in and called the spade a spade (bullying) in a reasonable and polite tone, and was dually informed that thanks to my *%&$! INLAWS getting to choose what they would be called by the grandkid (The Mr. was naive enough to explain that we had no choice in the matter), that she too would be in charge of making the decision for both of the Maternal grandparents.
Ah-ha, Touché, madre, touché.
But aside from that particular brush with anger and spite, it was a success all around. Everyone behaved, we took them Hashing on Monday (where they got to witness their daughter being installed as Grand Matress), The Mr. and I celebrated our anniversary on the Tuesday with the 'rents and our new Belgian friends C&H from the 'hood, with a big braai and drinks in the garden.... the grandparental bonding with the youngling was a success.... many presents were given (and to my amazement all in compliance with my '1 toy rule').... much love was spread around, etc etc. I even got the first "with-family" b-day celebration I've had since I was a teen living at home, complete with cake, brandy alexanders, and my choice of homecooked dinner. I took my pops up to my work site in the North on friday as his early father's day present, so he could do some exotic-location birding while I worked, and he kept carrying on about how it was the best gift anyone ever got him. So all in all, yes, a success.
Saturday, we exhaustedly put them on a plane, and came home and crashed. Boy my parents are high-energy. I keep forgetting that. They're all-singing, all-dancing, all-talking, all-enquiring, all-doing folks. Dad is up at 5am every day, wandering the neighbourhood, binoculars pasted to his eyeballs.... mom is constantly conversing.... dad is asking to get dropped off at the sewerage ponds for a wee day trip.... mom is pleading to take you shopping.... dad wants to clean the pool, mom wants to check out the local schools, both want to get adequate exercise in their daily agenda, and wouldn't we please like to join them? etc etc etc.... crikey! It's like going from the sublime to the ridiculous when you compare the inlaws and the outlaws in this family. The Mr's rents just want to sit around all day and stare off into space while drinking beer.
Anyway. This whole birthday thing has been seriously extensive now. Having the family 'do on Friday, then yesterday getting my first present from The Mr. (a piano! a dream come true! but more on that later...), going out for dinner with C&H and the Swedes to celebrate last night, and now today (the actual day) having a nice lunch with The Mr. and I'm sure plenty of drinks with the Hashers tonight.
OMG chalk one up for LJJ in the "firsts" department - last night - and it isn't a goodie. Baby's first embarassing public explosion. The worst. The biggest nightmare ever. OK so she's teething at the moment and basically decided that last night, at the restaurant with our mates, would be the night she would absolutely lose the plot and morph into Monster Baby for one and all to see. Cry, cry, cry. High maintenence. Didn't want to sit. Didn't want to be held. Didn't want to eat. Didn't want to drink. Didn't want NUTTIN. aggghhhh!!! And to top it all off, when we were finally driving home with C&H in the car, she decided to do the whole blood-curdling scream thing (which honestly I had never even HEARD before)... I wanted to die! I told her she would be promptly sold on the street for 10 Pula as soon as we got home. OK I know in the Spirit of 2010 I should be saying well, at least there was no one else in the restaurant besides us, and yeah, we're blessed that this is the only time this happened, and true, C&H are some truly chilled out Belgians without a care in the world about this stuff.... but DANG!!! I even woke up today going "You. Monster. Doghouse." Serenity now, serenity now.
And further in The Kid Files.... get this! BOY AM I CHEESED OFF ABOUT THIS ONE.
(These people should really not screw with me on my birthday like this)
So I get this email from the Aussie HIGH (cuz that's what they must be - on CRACK) Commission stating that they have received our application for LJJs visa. Now could I please provide them with copies of
1. Me & the MR.'s passport
2. Her birth cert "with your names on it" (like what? her bc with Elmo and Big Bird's name on it?)
3. Me & the Mr's visas.
4. Me & the Mr's return tickets (copies).
So I send them.
Now I get an email. And this is NOT the cliff's notes version. This is 100%:
"Dear Oh Wayward One.
Can you provide copies of the adoption papers.
Ms. Offensive Assuming Cow."
Can you believe this crap!?!? I don't know what I'm more pissed about - the fact that her BC has our names on it and yet this PERSON has just ASSUMED that there are 'adoption papers', or the fact that this is 99.9% surely based on the fact that our black & white passport photos look... exactly that. Black & white. COME ON PEOPLE. Where exactly does some bovine in Visa Processing get off with this??
So let me just finish this little backslide into 2009 by saying: THE HARDEST. HARDEST. HARD-EST THING i HAVE EVER, *EVER* HAD TO DO is probably what I just did, which is to click "send" after attaching a copy of my baby's adoption order to an email WITH NO TEXT, that will hopefully be the final piece of CRAP that I have to hand over just to fly across the ocean and spend my hard earned money on a DAMN holiday!!! UGH!!! It was hard, because I was chomping, CHOMPING at the bit, mind you, to pick up the phone, call up the supervisor of whatever VISITOR VISA PROCESSING dept and say something to the effect of "do you often make prejudgements on whether or not a child has been adopted based on the color of their skin in a black and white photo? is this your typical M.O.? because I think it SUCKS!" or, "can you please tell me what relevance my child's adoption papers have to whether or not she can come into your country and eat, sleep, and poop for approximately 14 days?" OMG! I'm absolutely SIMMERING over here, like!!! I don't know how to explain it, but I think the tone of the email (and lack of even considering to use the word 'please') and fact that it was no more than an ASSUMPTION that provoked this issue, is what really chapped my hide more than anything. I mean what if I had been raped & inpregnated by a black man? What if The Mr is my 2nd husband and my first & biological father of LJJ was a fine Herero Prince who was viciously murdered in cold blood by terrorists? What then? Do I owe it to Senora Nosey Pants to delve into the horrific tragedy and strife that resulted in me just happening to have a chocolate baby???
To be honest, I did pick up the phone and dial the number. But it was busy.... 4 times. I said to myself "ok, God, give me a sign - if the number is still busy on attempt No. 5, I will not press it further and will resign myself to sucking it up and playing the game and hitting "send" on this email WITHOUT using the words "offensive", "assumption", or "supervisor". And it was still busy.
So yes, even though I say it was the hardest thing I ever had to do - I almost didn't even do it, which I know I need to work on. Sometimes you just gotta play the game, and suck it up. I know in my gut this is one of those times (also having The Mr tell me "NOOOOOO! God NO don't do that!" didn't hurt in thwarting my attempt at satisfying my internal need for what *I* perceive as justice).
So anyway, before I get even more stirred up, back to the land of positive and encouraging.
**sucking - it - up**
***head down***
****teeth clenched****
MOVING ON!
The Mr. has really done it this time - somehow managing to trump his already immortal status as best-husband-ever from the last birthday when I got my iPhone from him. And not only by buying me my adulthood dream of a real live piano, but by the sheer love and effort that he put into the process. It was a toughie alright. We live in a country where pianos are neither made nor sold 2nd hand. So he had to somehow sneak off to South Africa and sneak home a giant behemoth of a musical instrument without me being the wiser. And not to mention hide it in a temporary hiding place for over a week! And him not being a musician and all, I was just overcome with amazement at the research he'd done and the decisions he had to make regarding what to buy and where, etc etc.... taking into account climate, brands, new vs. refurbished vs. old banger, country of origin, shape, look, style, and so on. OK not only has he officially redeemed himself after this Christmas and anniversary present debacles, but he has also upped the ante on how awesome any one husband can be when it comes to the art of making your wife happy by taking her mind off how old and decrepit she is becoming. I am simply in awe.
I got my house back, after a week with the 'rents that was just so non-stop and full on that I didn't have a chance to breathe. Although I did have the opportunity to gain a whole 1.5kg.... NOT HAPPY.
It was a pretty decent trip as far as the parental unit and I go. No fights, no yelling, no pouting or storming off on anyone's part. Which is always an achievement in itself. Only one incident that had the potential to go pear-shaped, but I sucked it up and moved along albeit begrudgingly. And of COURSE it was the most typical, had-to-happen-sometime token induction into the world of grandmother/mother relations... basically, I had my own idea of what LJJs grandfather would be called, and so did Her Royal Highness The Matriarch. But rather than coming right out and saying: "we all know it's ALL ABOUT ME, so therefore I would like him to be referred to as 'Grandpa'", I had to OVERHEAR her bullying Grandpa into submission regarding what HE SHALL BE REFERRED TO AS, period. Obviously Gramps the ever-diplomatic voice of reason put up his best rebuttal ("but...." The End.) and I (boiling over on the inside) broke in and called the spade a spade (bullying) in a reasonable and polite tone, and was dually informed that thanks to my *%&$! INLAWS getting to choose what they would be called by the grandkid (The Mr. was naive enough to explain that we had no choice in the matter), that she too would be in charge of making the decision for both of the Maternal grandparents.
Ah-ha, Touché, madre, touché.
But aside from that particular brush with anger and spite, it was a success all around. Everyone behaved, we took them Hashing on Monday (where they got to witness their daughter being installed as Grand Matress), The Mr. and I celebrated our anniversary on the Tuesday with the 'rents and our new Belgian friends C&H from the 'hood, with a big braai and drinks in the garden.... the grandparental bonding with the youngling was a success.... many presents were given (and to my amazement all in compliance with my '1 toy rule').... much love was spread around, etc etc. I even got the first "with-family" b-day celebration I've had since I was a teen living at home, complete with cake, brandy alexanders, and my choice of homecooked dinner. I took my pops up to my work site in the North on friday as his early father's day present, so he could do some exotic-location birding while I worked, and he kept carrying on about how it was the best gift anyone ever got him. So all in all, yes, a success.
Saturday, we exhaustedly put them on a plane, and came home and crashed. Boy my parents are high-energy. I keep forgetting that. They're all-singing, all-dancing, all-talking, all-enquiring, all-doing folks. Dad is up at 5am every day, wandering the neighbourhood, binoculars pasted to his eyeballs.... mom is constantly conversing.... dad is asking to get dropped off at the sewerage ponds for a wee day trip.... mom is pleading to take you shopping.... dad wants to clean the pool, mom wants to check out the local schools, both want to get adequate exercise in their daily agenda, and wouldn't we please like to join them? etc etc etc.... crikey! It's like going from the sublime to the ridiculous when you compare the inlaws and the outlaws in this family. The Mr's rents just want to sit around all day and stare off into space while drinking beer.
Anyway. This whole birthday thing has been seriously extensive now. Having the family 'do on Friday, then yesterday getting my first present from The Mr. (a piano! a dream come true! but more on that later...), going out for dinner with C&H and the Swedes to celebrate last night, and now today (the actual day) having a nice lunch with The Mr. and I'm sure plenty of drinks with the Hashers tonight.
OMG chalk one up for LJJ in the "firsts" department - last night - and it isn't a goodie. Baby's first embarassing public explosion. The worst. The biggest nightmare ever. OK so she's teething at the moment and basically decided that last night, at the restaurant with our mates, would be the night she would absolutely lose the plot and morph into Monster Baby for one and all to see. Cry, cry, cry. High maintenence. Didn't want to sit. Didn't want to be held. Didn't want to eat. Didn't want to drink. Didn't want NUTTIN. aggghhhh!!! And to top it all off, when we were finally driving home with C&H in the car, she decided to do the whole blood-curdling scream thing (which honestly I had never even HEARD before)... I wanted to die! I told her she would be promptly sold on the street for 10 Pula as soon as we got home. OK I know in the Spirit of 2010 I should be saying well, at least there was no one else in the restaurant besides us, and yeah, we're blessed that this is the only time this happened, and true, C&H are some truly chilled out Belgians without a care in the world about this stuff.... but DANG!!! I even woke up today going "You. Monster. Doghouse." Serenity now, serenity now.
And further in The Kid Files.... get this! BOY AM I CHEESED OFF ABOUT THIS ONE.
(These people should really not screw with me on my birthday like this)
So I get this email from the Aussie HIGH (cuz that's what they must be - on CRACK) Commission stating that they have received our application for LJJs visa. Now could I please provide them with copies of
1. Me & the MR.'s passport
2. Her birth cert "with your names on it" (like what? her bc with Elmo and Big Bird's name on it?)
3. Me & the Mr's visas.
4. Me & the Mr's return tickets (copies).
So I send them.
Now I get an email. And this is NOT the cliff's notes version. This is 100%:
"Dear Oh Wayward One.
Can you provide copies of the adoption papers.
Ms. Offensive Assuming Cow."
Can you believe this crap!?!? I don't know what I'm more pissed about - the fact that her BC has our names on it and yet this PERSON has just ASSUMED that there are 'adoption papers', or the fact that this is 99.9% surely based on the fact that our black & white passport photos look... exactly that. Black & white. COME ON PEOPLE. Where exactly does some bovine in Visa Processing get off with this??
So let me just finish this little backslide into 2009 by saying: THE HARDEST. HARDEST. HARD-EST THING i HAVE EVER, *EVER* HAD TO DO is probably what I just did, which is to click "send" after attaching a copy of my baby's adoption order to an email WITH NO TEXT, that will hopefully be the final piece of CRAP that I have to hand over just to fly across the ocean and spend my hard earned money on a DAMN holiday!!! UGH!!! It was hard, because I was chomping, CHOMPING at the bit, mind you, to pick up the phone, call up the supervisor of whatever VISITOR VISA PROCESSING dept and say something to the effect of "do you often make prejudgements on whether or not a child has been adopted based on the color of their skin in a black and white photo? is this your typical M.O.? because I think it SUCKS!" or, "can you please tell me what relevance my child's adoption papers have to whether or not she can come into your country and eat, sleep, and poop for approximately 14 days?" OMG! I'm absolutely SIMMERING over here, like!!! I don't know how to explain it, but I think the tone of the email (and lack of even considering to use the word 'please') and fact that it was no more than an ASSUMPTION that provoked this issue, is what really chapped my hide more than anything. I mean what if I had been raped & inpregnated by a black man? What if The Mr is my 2nd husband and my first & biological father of LJJ was a fine Herero Prince who was viciously murdered in cold blood by terrorists? What then? Do I owe it to Senora Nosey Pants to delve into the horrific tragedy and strife that resulted in me just happening to have a chocolate baby???
To be honest, I did pick up the phone and dial the number. But it was busy.... 4 times. I said to myself "ok, God, give me a sign - if the number is still busy on attempt No. 5, I will not press it further and will resign myself to sucking it up and playing the game and hitting "send" on this email WITHOUT using the words "offensive", "assumption", or "supervisor". And it was still busy.
So yes, even though I say it was the hardest thing I ever had to do - I almost didn't even do it, which I know I need to work on. Sometimes you just gotta play the game, and suck it up. I know in my gut this is one of those times (also having The Mr tell me "NOOOOOO! God NO don't do that!" didn't hurt in thwarting my attempt at satisfying my internal need for what *I* perceive as justice).
So anyway, before I get even more stirred up, back to the land of positive and encouraging.
**sucking - it - up**
***head down***
****teeth clenched****
MOVING ON!
The Mr. has really done it this time - somehow managing to trump his already immortal status as best-husband-ever from the last birthday when I got my iPhone from him. And not only by buying me my adulthood dream of a real live piano, but by the sheer love and effort that he put into the process. It was a toughie alright. We live in a country where pianos are neither made nor sold 2nd hand. So he had to somehow sneak off to South Africa and sneak home a giant behemoth of a musical instrument without me being the wiser. And not to mention hide it in a temporary hiding place for over a week! And him not being a musician and all, I was just overcome with amazement at the research he'd done and the decisions he had to make regarding what to buy and where, etc etc.... taking into account climate, brands, new vs. refurbished vs. old banger, country of origin, shape, look, style, and so on. OK not only has he officially redeemed himself after this Christmas and anniversary present debacles, but he has also upped the ante on how awesome any one husband can be when it comes to the art of making your wife happy by taking her mind off how old and decrepit she is becoming. I am simply in awe.
Labels: mi familia, The Kid Files, The Mr.
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