22 June 2012

First World Problems

There's a hashtag on Twitter called #firstworldproblems. People use it to acknowledge that their moan isn't all that important in the general scheme of things.

For example, 'we've run out of hummous LOL #firstworldproblems'.

There is so much awfulness in the world that I often find it difficult to watch the news or read about it. Of course I care, but there is so much that is wrong that it threatens to overwhelm me.

It angers me that starving children in Africa are my problem. There is enough food for everyone if only it was fairly distributed. Even so, I still try to do my bit. I join in with bloggers by raising awareness for Save the Children or World Vision or Unicef. I sponsor people for running or walking or whatever. I donate to charities, but it's never enough.

How do we reconcile this suffering with our comfortable daily lives? We have to make the best our lot in life, whatever that is. We have to care for our children and raise them to be decent people. Our problems are all relative, but they are still problems.

Sometimes we just like a good moan. Our tickets for the Olympics may arrive while we're out. Those oranges in the fruit bowl aren't very nice. There's nothing on the telly. We haven't had much of a summer. I can't open Tweetdeck or Google Reader without rolling my eyes or wanting to tell someone to eff off.

We have to do something about the bees nesting in our roof. I don't know many decent tradesmen. My children squabble all the time. I'm trying very hard to get over my disordered eating. I'm fat, frumpy and can never find the right coat. I need to get my roots done.

I can't keep my house clean and tidy, or play with my children, because I have a slipped disc. It's painful.

My best friend is very ill.

I hope I can find a parking space at the hospital LOL #firstworldproblems.



20 June 2012

Wordless Wednesday - Beeline


15 June 2012

Where do babies come from?

Some conversations can be tricky, but not always in the way you may think.

4yo: Where do babies come from?

Me (only pausing for half a beat): Mummy and Daddy have a special cuddle, then a baby grows in Mummy's tummy.

3yo: Is there a baby growing in your tummy, Mummy?

Me: No, darling.

4yo and 3yo (sadly): Oh.

3yo: Can you grow a baby, Mummy?

Me: No, love, Mummy is too old.

4yo: You're not, Mummy. Please can you have a baby girl. I haven't got a sister.

3yo: I'd like a sister, Mummy.

4yo: I'd like a sister, Mummy.

Me: Sorry, boys, and (changing the subject) we need to made Daddy and Grandad some Father's Day cards.

I was fine with the sex education for pre-schoolers aspect to this conversation. I guess I'd already thought about my answer before I gave it. I was honest, but not graphic.

What rattled me was how I feel now. I'm 42 and won't be having any more children.

I had it in my head that 40 is the cut-off for having babies. I made up this life rule years ago, based on 'the risks'. I'm generally risk averse, but having children isn't like saving money for a rainy day or deciding not to do a bungy jump.

Andy and I found having two children within a year was Quite Hard Work. We decided then that we would stick at two children. It's not quite so demanding now. They go to the toilet themselves, they dress themselves, they feed themselves, they play, they sleep. In September they start school.

If I was a few years younger... If I had met Andy a few years earlier... If I wasn't so fat... If I didn't have a slipped disc... In an ideal world I'd be pregnant now. I'd have a baby in September.

I can't tell you how much I wish I lived in an ideal world.

I wonder if the longing for another child ever goes away?

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