Infectious

In our little town there is a group of very strict Christian. No TV, no internet, girls wear long skirts or dresses and cover their hair. Boys and girls do not mix after a certain age. (presumably there is an age at which they are allowed to mix again, otherwise there would be no new children ;-) )

At pre-school we have three children who belong to this group. One of their rules is that they must not eat with members outside their church. We have snack time. Most under 5's can't go more than a couple of hours without food. So we have milk, bread and fruit (provided they are not allergic of course).

When snack time came round today I had to place our three Christian children at a separate table. Two other boys wanted to sit with them. They are friends and there was space at the table. I had to tell them to sit somewhere else. "Why? Why can't I sit with them? Have they been naughty?" asked J. "Are they infectious? Mummy is a nurse and she says you shouldn't sit with infectious people. Are they ill?" asked B.

Very good questions I thought. And explaining to them that is was due to their religion did not work. "What like S. not eating meat because she is Mussels? But she sits with us." Quick think - mussles?? oh Muslim. I had to admit that I didn't know the ins and outs of it. "Well I hope it isn't catching, this religious." stated B clearly not wanting to let go of the illness theory.

It's a shame that sometimes religion can isolate people.

I never knew

I was a geek at school. Let me be honest I was a nerd. I was good at science I wore glasses and was somewhat lax about my personal appearance - hair was a mess most of the time. I had spots for goodness sake. I was teased but not much. Either because my brother beat them up for me or because I gave them a sharp set down.

I grew up. The acne cleared, the puppy fat disappeared due to lots of rowing. I was however still a nerd. I did not drink at parties and did not seek out the dark corners of the sport's field in male company.

One of the girls I went to school with is now an author and writes a column in a national newspaper. She was popular at school, pretty, slim and wasn't acne riddled. She was also not above a bit of heavy petting. In her column she talks about her struggles with bulimia and depression. Apparently this was all going on at the age of 15 and carried on till in her 20's.

I was shocked. I never knew. As far as I knew she had a great life. Her big brother didn't beat up boys who asked his sister to the school disco. She was popular. Apparently she had a great fear of failing and of disappointing others.

I never thought of myself as a happy teenager but looking back maybe I was. I knew who I wanted to be and that whatever happened my parents and brother loved me. I really hope my daughters will grow up to know who they are and that we love them. And that they do not have to go through such insecurity to find themselves.

Inspiration

I am afraid I lacking inspiration. Well that's not quite true. I could write lots about my job at the pre-school. I don't do this as I worry about confidentiality.

Could write about the fact that my brother and his family are emigrating. But I get a little upset thinking about that and my feelings about it are complicated.

I could write about my grandmother and that I feel she is unfair. But she is 95, so what the point be? She isn't going to change now.

I am also guessing that no one wants to know about my flu. The oldest daughter's sickness (and the fact that she gets all colds and illness).

I will try harder.

Teaching

Britain has a shortage of secondary school teachers. Especially science teachers, maths, IT, RE and modern languages. So, basically most subjects except PE and drama.

I have a science degree. I have been looking into teacher training. I would like to take up work again now that the little ones are older. I don't think accountancy is for me anymore. The five year break means lots of re-learning and also retaking of exams. Month end is unsociable and there is no 6 week break in the summer.

Problem is: Getting qualified will mean working long hours. Now this does not worry me unduly. However Mr Y.'s new job entails lost of long days and lots of working away from. Where is the difference with the old job I hear you ask. Well it's not international travel. Makes all the difference- apparently.

I can't commit the time at present. I want the girls to be settled into their school. I could ask my mum and dad to help out but somehow that feels wrong. They are in their 60's they don't have the puff to look after two lively girls.

The Teaching Development Agency are clearly desperate though. They have sent me on a three day taster course, organised school visits and are now trying to find a flexible course for me. I never knew chemistry was that much in demand. Hopefully I have managed to let them down gently. I told them that I would be unable to start before September 2010. "Don't worry Mrs Y." he said with a not unappealing Welsh lilt "I'll call you in six months time." "Why?" "Well now, you'll be needing to get your references in order and your application form. Don't worry though. I'll be there to help you through the process."

I think I had better dig up the old Chemistry text book.

Fear

"When I am old I am going to have a dog"
"Is this wise? You are afraid of dogs."
"Not when I am a Mummy. Mummies aren't afraid of anything."

If only it were true. I am still afraid of the dark - retrieving things from the garden in the dark is only done with a good torch. I am still afraid of thunderstorms (I do think they are spectacular but scary). Ghost stories give me the chills and I certainly think birds are fearsome. Yes, birds. I have a fear of their flappy wings. Just thinking about it makes me shudder.

I think mummies or in any case this mummy have plenty of things they are afraid of. But you must not let them know that. I think that is the big difference. If I ran to hide under the bed every time there was a storm where would we be?

I still don't like birds though.

Paperfree

Dear Mrs Yoastie,

Thank you for signing up to our paperfree billing service. You will be able to manage your account online blah blah etc etc


Yes, thank you for your letter but wasn't the whole point of signing up to paperfree that I would no longer receive letters from you?

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

I know I have the most beautiful daughters. They are blond and fair skinned and have intensely blue eyes. I sometimes think it is a good thing that they wear glasses, that way other girls will have a chance. Well I am their mother and all mothers think their own child is the prettiest. At least that is how it should be.

I spoke to my friend M to congratulate her with her daughter's third birthday. Of course there was the necessary boasting about our respective children's various achievements (think the workplace is competitive wait till you are a mother). Anyway we discussed the idea of ballet/dance class. And this is when M really shocked me; she thinks her daughter isn't pretty enough for ballet classes. At first I thought I had misheard and said something about but the dancing doesn't look pretty at this age most of the girls just stomp about. No, she thought her daughter wasn't pretty enough. I was dumbfounded, all mothers think their child is the prettiest.

I felt really sorry for the poor little girl. Your mother should be there to help you build your confidence. Your mother should not at such a young age talk you into a complex. I really hope M does not say this sort of thing with her daughter present. It is amazing what they pick up on and how this can affect them later on.

Obedient Wives

Mr Yoastie thought this would be a good programme for me to watch. "maybe you can learn something :-)"
The women in this programme did everything their husband's asked of them. For some it was a religious thing for others it was based on the teachings of Laura Doyle.
All I can say is that it is not for me! One husband left his wife a to do list as he went to work. As if looking after the house and children is not enough without being given a list of things like "sort out my sock drawer"(no, really).
Well I can honestly say that I do not wear the trousers in our house (don't like wearing them; in fact I think I only own one pair) but this programme made me want to become a dyed in the wool feminist.