Mamalade

It’s been such a busy complicated week, not a week conducive to setting my thoughts in order.

Joel has been off work with a bad back. I went around a couple of times during the week to mind my grandchildren, Miles and Hayley while Frances drove Joel to the Doctor and Physiotherapist. Miles and Hayley have both been quite sick with colds and asthma. They both have a bad cough. Poor Frances hasn’t had much sleep.

Yesterday, Miles and I played “shop,” using a video and games catalogue.

“Do you have a video my little boy would like?” I asked Miles, the shopkeeper. “He’s four.”

“How about this one?” Miles pointed to a “Shrek” game.

“How much is it?”

“Ninety nine dollars.” He can read numbers.

“Alright,” I said. “Here’s a hundred dollars. You can give me one dollar change.” I’d never tried introducing this idea before.

Miles scowled and handed me an imaginary dollar. Then he closed the catalogue. “I’m closing this shop.” He announced. “You took all my money.”

“But I gave you a hundred dollars….”

“And you took it back. You can go to another shop.”

I don’t think he’s ready for the concept of giving change!

Hayley is almost 6 months old now. She loves to play “peepbo.” I put a nappy over her face and she takes it off and laughs.

Selecting a Topic

As well as baby sitting, I’ve been trying to prepare an Educational Session on “Selecting a Topic” for our Toastmasters meeting, despite frequent interruptions that made it hard to concentrate.

I finally got it pulled together and it went over fairly well. Several people commented later that it had given them some ideas. After the meeting, one of our younger members, a very attractive girl, approached me.

“While you were speaking,” she explained, “I was trying to find my glasses in my handbag so I could write down the main points. I hope you didn’t think I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Don’t worry,” I told her. “When I am speaking, everyone is just a blur.”

“But afterwards,” she said, “when I was having my coffee, my biscuit crumbled in my hand and I emptied the crumbs into my coffee cup. Then I saw that you were looking at me - you must have wondered what I was doing.”

“Goodness,” I said. “The reason I was looking at you, was because I was thinking how nice you looked!”

How often we think we are being judged, when we are feeling self-conscious!

When I first joined Toastmasters, I thought everyone seemed so capable and confident. I’m realising more and more that they are all very ordinary people like me, who joined to overcome shyness or lack of communication skills. And it’s working! It’s so exciting to watch people blossom!

Lately, nearly every time I come home from somewhere, I find boxes and bags of stuff piled on my doorstep for our World Vision Jumble Sales. Everyone must be sorting through their wardrobe in preparation for winter.

There’s a real nip in the air now. Oscar (the cat) has decided it’s more comfortable to stay inside in at night. I’m glad, but I wish he wouldn’t insist on getting up at 4 a.m!

This must be the nicest time of the year. We thought summer would never end, but at last the heat has gone. The days are crisp at the edges and soft and warm in the middle. The nights are made for sleeping under an extra blanket with a cat or two thrown on for good measure. Our old neighbour, Ted, used to tell a tall tale about one of his mates who never used blankets. He had about a dozen cats and when it got colder, he would put another cat on the bed…

That was almost as good as the story my grandfather used to tell, about the family who had a lot of kids but only one bed. He said they put them to bed one by one, and as soon as each kid went to sleep, they’d hang him on a hook on the wall and put the next one to sleep…

Anyway, with the cooler weather, my electric fan hasn’t been needed for some time now. I was thinking the other morning; it looks rather useless, just standing there in the corner of the room. The blades get so dusty when they are not in use. Maybe I could find a big plastic bag to cover it.

fanny

Then I had an idea. I draped my dressing gown over the fan. Voila! An instant person! The fan was just the right height… It just needed a head, and it would look like someone standing there. I improvised by placing an old wig on top. Not perfect, but it would do for the time being.Feeling pleased with my ingenuousness, I went outside to water the garden and ended up pottering around the yard for most of the morning. I do love to potter - specially when the weather is so pleasant!

Later, I came back inside and walked down the hallway, past my bedroom door. Aaarrgghh!!! There was someone in my bedroom! I’d forgotten about the dressed up fan. It nearly scared the daylights out of me.

I’ve hung my dressing gown back behind the door. I think I’ll put the fan out in the back shed with a big plastic bag over it.

“Did you see the picture on the fridge?” asked Frances. “That’s what Miles gave me for Mothers Day. He made it at Kindy.”

I admired the lovely photo of Miles in a paint-spattered paper frame. “Did he wait till today to give it to you?” I couldn’t imagine Miles keeping a secret.

“Yes, the teacher told them they had to hide their presents in their bedroom for two more sleeps, then it would be Mothers Day. He woke up just after midnight this morning and asked ‘Is it Mothers Day yet?’”

We all had pizza for lunch at Mum and Dad’s place. It was an easy meal - no cooking for anyone. We didn’t even bother bringing up the folding table and extra chairs from downstairs this time. The kids had a picnic on a rug on the floor.

The two seven-year-olds, Robert and Callum played downstairs most of the afternoon, while Miles and Matthew played “Beetles” and built with blocks upstairs. One of the most peaceful family gatherings we’ve had for a long time.

“They’ve all been really good today, ” someone remarked. “They must be growing up at last…”

Then we became aware of a sweet smell pervading the atmosphere. It grew so strong, Matthew had to be taken outside to ward off an asthma attack. The boys had found a can of air freshener downstairs and emptied the contents.

I went round to Joel and Frances’ place for tea, and took some new pajamas I had bought for Miles. They were a little bit shop- soiled, so Frances said she’d wash them tomorrow.

“You can wear them tomorrow night,” I told Miles.

“But it won’t be Mothers Day anymore!” he wailed.

This was in our Church Bulletin this morning. It was written by one of our special older mothers. I asked her if I could share it.

What Shall I give Her?
By Dorothy Nowlan

What shall I give to my mother
On this very special day?
Shall it be flowers or perfume?
I wonder what she would say.

Oh, don’t spend your money, my children
On expensive gifts for me;
I loved to make children happy
This is just as it should be.

If you’d really like to please me
Give me of what I gave best -
I gave of my time dear children,
In your time I did invest.

And my hours were not nine till five
Nor yet at overtime rate;
Just whenever you needed me
Whether early or late.

So, if you want to please me,
Just give me some of your time
And I shall be very happy
And my days will be sublime.

“Ollie, don’t you want any breakfast?”

Olive lay on the mat with a pained expression on her face. I stroked her head. She purred. Then I tried to pick her up.

“Meeowwwpfffssssst!!”

“What’s the matter?”

Olive had been cuddled up with me the night before when we heard a bit of a scuffle outside on the patio. I went out to investigate, and saw a large ginger cat run off, while Ingrid sat on the patio swishing her tail. Big brave Oscar ran inside, but before I could close the door, Olive dashed between my legs and tore up the road after the ginger cat.

“Yeeeowwrrr!! Pfffssssst!!!

She must have made contact.

When she came back later, she seemed all right, but now she was obviously in pain and food held no interest for her. Probably an infected scratch or bite, I thought. She’ll need antibiotics. I bet Ginger didn’t clean his teeth before he came calling.

The vet couldn’t find anything amongst her thick fur. He felt her all over.

“Pfffsssst!”

“She’s a feisty little cat, isn’t she,” he said.

“Leeeave me alone!!” hissed Olive.

He dodged her flailing claws. “She’s not an easy cat to examine. We’ll have to sedate her and shave her so we can see what’s there. We might have to do x-rays… First I’ll take her temperature…”

“That’s no way to treat a lady!” roared Olive in the most unladylike language she could muster.

“It could be her spine. Let’s put her on the floor and see how she can walk.”

Olive stomped slowly and wrathfully round the room.

“Hmmmm… she’s walking OK. We’ll put her in one of our cages ready for treatment.”

Olive suddenly leapt onto the high examining table and burrowed into her own carry-cage.

“She can’t be too bad,” I said, “if she can jump from the floor onto the table.”

“Hmmmm…maybe we could just try antibiotics first…. I could vaccinate her while she’s here. It would bring her up to date…”

ollie3

It sounded a good idea. Then I looked at Olive, settled firmly in the carry-cage. Pull her back out and jab a needle in her? I think not!”I think she’s had enough trauma for today,” I said firmly.

Olive purred loudly when we got home and obligingly licked her medicine off the back of her paw. (I know better than to try to put anything between her jaws.)

And it’s working. After two days, she’s back to her old self. She’s just come in from an excursion outside, had a hearty meal and taken up her usual position beside the computer.