April 2008 - Posts
Oh, you guessed. My new life with no less than two washing machines. People at times wonder how women coped with house work during the days of large families and small washboards - can't be anything like today, can it??
Sometime after the fourth one was born I noticed that the average lifespan of my washing machine had shrank to six, maybe nine months. They all worked 24/7 and died of exhaustion. So Hisself got me an industrial sized one. The longest programme takes an hour and the sizable drum takes two and a half ordinary domestic loads. I am back to washing 2-3 loads a day and the bearings last about two years at a time, which is a novelty.
However this magic machine has maximum temperature of 55 C and my whites have suffered. It was OK when I still had time to pre-soak in stain remover but after No5 arrived....not good. As Hisself likes his t-shirts white [and as a romantic gesture] I got a lovely new machine for my whites. He researched as for any machinery purchase and found one made in China with Liebherr technology. When the first programme finished the reverse alarm sound of a large excavator echoed down my corridor to the kitchen and for a second I had this image of my new pride and joy reversing to my wash line to deliver the freshly washed goods.
The admin was wondering if Hisself is always that romantic? He is so much more. Since childhood I have loved draining muddy puddles by making little rivers with my wellies. When it rained for a month he went round my play area every night with the forklift making fresh tracks for the rain to fill. I found that very special, but No1 son pointed out that mummy is easily pleased! There was I thinking that Isobel's suggestion of practical presents had sank in....
Another piece of machinery on my shopping list is a little kids trailer. The kind you see in American TV and movies with a long handle and big tyres. They used to be imported to UK and sold at staggering prices. The CE regulation has condemned both the paint and the stability. Apparently If you turn the handle as far as it will go on a slope the thing will fall over. I would very much like my children to learn that if you play silly with machinery you'll get hurt, but developing sense of danger has become old fashioned.
I have two methods of getting stuff from America: Usually buying online, but they are not allowed to ship these things to the EU anymore. When all else fails Aunt Arizona goes to Wal Mart and uses the US postal service. In this case the object is rather heavy and Aunt nearing 80. She can't lift it to the shopping trolley let alone into her car. In desperation we have contacted Uncle Canada. He is a single man of certain advancing age with no experience with children. Uncharacteristically he has developed an interest to No5 and I think he just might get this one right. This is a trailer and he is a farmer. It is the set price that worries me - can this man buy a trailer outside an auction???? I'll keep you posted.
To a totally different kind of kit. No2 daughter has a retro day at school next week and she is to wear something from the decade's past. We found a rather fetching corset from the 1980's that pleased her and stumbled across my favourite pair of shoes from a long time ago. Made from leather and lace they are something a woman of my age should not admit owning let alone go out wearing them.
But I am guilty on both accounts. No1 son called that his bus was nearing the town. He had been hiking in the hills for two days for charity and was in desperate need of food, wash and sleep. So I dashed out. As I parked and watched other parents to rush to welcome their loved children from the bus I realised that for me the car was best place to hide. In addition to my fancy shoes I was wearing a bright red pair of tracksuit bottoms with bright yellow text "China" shining across my derrière and down my leg. All matched with Hisself's red Xmas jumper, well that is what it was before the moths attacked.
While all other mothers returned carrying half their son's kit and giving me dirty looks for being uncaring, No1 son arrived with a very pretty girl carrying half his kit and a rather satisfied smile on his face. "Thanks mum for not showing up!" - blessed are the days when the little I can manage is all they want in the world!!!!
Today is something special in our house. No5 has spent half her life with us and we are celebrating No5 style... All I can recall from Christmas is how poorly I felt and how much No5 objected on us behaving out of her new routine. From then on she has been prepared for every big day: On her birthday she had a stinking cold and none of us had slept for three nights. Chinese New Year went down with a diarrhoea from hell and a week without sleep and for this special day we have......chicken pox.
Not just any chicken pox. Last week she got her MMR jab and as the nurse promised the measles rash arrived 7-10 days later. So she has rash, blisters on rash and a temperature. Not to mention temper to go with it. I have carried her four days because that is the only way to get her to sleep during the day and most importantly to stop screaming. Her hands have been in every pot, every meal and every e-mail. I have postponed end of accounting year, paying bills and talking in the telephone till we are better.
On a brighter note she has been sleeping at night!
What I call hunter gathering is more like shopping to anyone else. Just that when you live back and beyond tracking down items takes many of the skills my brother taught me on our hare hunting days. The two oldest ones are beginning their wandering years and both needed hiking boots and backpacks. In my system it takes a lot of time just to find the shops that sell the goods we need.
Fair enough I can get stuff online and for things like books, toys and baby clothes I am happy with that. While US$ is worth 50p bulk buying No5's clothing from USA sales has proven to be a profitable job. General saving is 50% from our sale prices from the better quality end. But I want a backpack that is going to be carried by my daughter for 28 days to be properly fitted and something I can take back to the shop if need be.
With my method of madness, two weeks of holidays and several hundred miles later we finally found a specialist shop [8th we visited] where the staff knew the difference between short and long trip backpack and were able to fit not one but both of the kids with what they needed.
I do realise that our special hunting methods give goods a large carbon footprint - something that bothers my conscience quite a bit. Yet my hunter gathering has provided us with a local, reliable and cheap source of seasonal vegetables and free range eggs. With my car loaded before we hit the supermarket I have been able to lift my nose to the broad beans from Kenya, baby corn from Thailand and fresh asparagus from Mexico. I have no wish to let my standards slip as I know my farmer will have very similar selection when the time is right, just that his wares taste a lot better.
Cannot let a blog go by without a mention of Hisself who has spent the very wet days with new Scottish agrisupport system online applications. It has driven him bonkers. Every application produces a little sheet of paper and with this paper you have to provide a little map with a picture of your plans. My job has been photocopying, colouring in and making sure right pieces of paper have been put together. I used my best colouring pencils [for cattle spread sheets] and made a neat job, each one is a different colour. Hisself accepted my offerings with a broad smile and disappeared today to buy me something special - a second washing machine. There is no limit to that man's imagination!
The title is sexist to say the least but I learnt the words "forgetful" and "vague" while working in a hospice. [I loved the job and it was a great excuse to be near Hisself.] As my mind struggles from day to day I am pretty confident that my problems are not terminal - just some long term damage for a townie who copes with a farm and the farmer on day to day basis.
First of all a German engineer came to visit. He is helping Hisself with his latest idea. A nice chap. Complemented me on the lunch I gave him during his last visit. [?] What last visit???? When???? Hisself tells me that he popped in a week or so after we returned from China with No5. I can tell you to the smallest detail of every doctor's visit, every poking health visitor, every sample we extracted, every visit to the needle nurse and every bit of progress we made as a family BUT I can not recall this German. Total blank.
My second problem is much more annoying. Hisself is not admitting - so not quite sure who to blame. Someone has re-organised the computer Favourites list to an alphabetical order. Hisself always had his sites organised that way; F for Farmer's Weekly, hence I can still find it. I would put it under A for agriculture closely followed by B for blogs, C for clothes and so on. As a result my two minute morning scoot to check the world has turned to an hour's struggle at night when everyone else is asleep. It is so bad that I need a large mug of chili tea to drown my foul language - luckily even the dog is in bed.
So we have arrived to my dog problem. When No5 arrived we had two Jack Russels and a little girl with sensory problems - she would not touch fur for example. As girl got better and braver the Top Dog objected. She soon [the dog that is] had a short trip top the vets and permanent residence behind the grain shed. The Spare Dog learnt her lessons: never go into a car with Hisself and No5 can do no wrong. This dog takes her new job seriously. She sits on my knee at every bottle time offering some hair for patting, leaves the rabbits for pushing the buggy and sits under the highchair at meal times keeping the place tidy. I have seen her patiently sharing her water bowl where No5 was washing her toy plates, offering her tail for balancing when No5 was learning to walk and even being stuffed into a trolley full of bricks without a complaint.
Problem? Her name. This dog has a name. I use it - the dog obeys. However everyone else can use any word and she is happy to recognise it as a call. No1 calls her Gut, and she comes bounding to his feet. Just to show off Hisself called her an "Autonomous Region of Hair" and it worked! Even No5 has joined the gang she will not use the Name, or even dog but has devised her own Bow Wow which the dog naturally loves. When under a lot of pressure I have trouble using the right name for the right child [the fact they move around makes it more difficult] - it would be nice if the dog would let me off the hook.