Archive | January, 2016

Twas midday sometime near the end of January

28 Jan

Fortunately I did not make blogging, or losing weight, my New Year’s resolutions or I would have failed massively on both accounts not long after waking up on January 1st.

After reading a couple of comments asking where I was (to which I immaturely replied ‘Hello from the other side’) I realized I actually have an hour before my next English class. The house is tidy, the coffee is brewed and my youngest is safely ensconced on a pile of clean washing on the sofa playing mine craft. Whilst I should either be folding washing or baking savory chia seed muffins with my 6 year old, I feel my time might be better spent waffling on to you lot.

Unfortunately I have no juicy story or reason behind the lack of blogging. I do miss it though, and must admit that having a wine and blogging has better results than having a wine and commenting on Face Book. I think my biggest ‘Oh fuck, pray to the gods that I didn’t actually post that comment last night…Oh Fuck (click edit, delete post, yes permanently)’ moment was when I somehow managed to compare an under-privalleged kid I sponsor in New Zealand to a dog I helped rescue from Afghanistan…

I’m not even joking. It was right up there with dumb wine-induced shit such as pledging to pay that 1000 pounds for a singer to sing at the European Stylist’s workplace. For Fucks Sake.

So perhaps less FB-ing and more blogging me thinks.

The kids are fine, flu-less (touch wood) and settling into the last term of kinder, year 2 and year 3. My last term ever dealing with kinder PTA bollocks and last term before I have to somehow get around three classrooms and home room meetings at primary PTA from April. Effectively our family also makes up one tenth of the school population, resulting in an inability to skive off PTA duties for the rest of my life, or at least the next 6 years. But really I’ve held a PTA position at either kinder or the school for the past 5 years already!

Work-wise I seem to be English-ing more and translating less, which gives me more hours to ignore the washing on the couch. I have recently had a number of mothers ask me if I teach little kids – like 2-3 year olds. I haven’t had that age group for years but feel perhaps I should start a class to meet the demand. I’m not a fan of having mothers in the class but I guess at 2 and 3 there really isn’t any other way to do it. I envisage a lot of ‘itsy bitsy spiders’ and the likes in my not so distant future.

On a different note…

After dropping all three kids off at soccer practice (6-8pm) a few weeks back I decided it was a nice evening for a drive, so I bought a coffee, popped on some Adele and did a bit of Carpool Karaoke, albeit minus a passenger. I carpool karaoke-ed myself right past the Pachinko in the next town over.

So much for ‘working late’.

I went to take a photo but my new iPhone 6 has the battery life of a retarded Mayfly (24 hours – I just googled it) and promptly went black the nano second before I pushed the shutter button.

This whole ‘working late pachinko thing’ doesn’t fuck me off as much as it used to because the kids are older and if hub is at at work, or silver ball heaven, then it means I can sit down after back to back English lessons and have a glass of wine before dealing with the chaos that generally ensues the instant the kids come home. For twenty minutes I can ignore the bags flung across the room, the kinder uniform half way down the hall, the pencil case contents scattered across the table, the almost insistent whining to be fed, constant bickering about who gets how long on the iPad yaddah yaddah. If hub is there I kind of have to pull finger and man the fuck up about this parenting lark.

Speaking of which, it’s still the middle of the bloody day so I better actually sort my shit out, teach English, make dinner, fold washing, attend soccer meeting, before I can sit down to that glass.

Sweet Dreams, Good Health and Quiet Living

 

 

 

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Too much wine in rural Japan