Ok, so you know it's been too long between blogs when you forget your user id and password, not just one of them, both!
I still haven't really figured out the direction of this blog but it seems to be moving towards personal snippets of this and that. It's an outlet for me and I'm not going to fuss too much over whether I think others would find a particular topic really interesting or not. It is, what it is!
The last couple of days I've had Miss B at home from nursery as she's had hand, foot and mouth virus (nothing to do with Mad Cow!) and after her bout of conjunctivitis the previous week, the smart thing to do was to infect myself. In an attempt to control our disease ridden household, I was like a broken record telling Miss B, 'don't touch your eyes', 'wash your hands' etc. To get out of the house I took her with me to do a food shop. We're in the fruit and vegie section when Miss B starts picking up fruit, dropping it on the floor, you know the drill. Normally I make a game of it and if she feels like she's 'helping' me, we get by without too many issues but today, I just wanted to get in and out. First time, "Miss B, PLEASE don't touch the fruit".... Miss B: "But why?" I explain, as I do every other time, that other people would like to buy it and if you drop it and bruise it they won't be happy when they get it home and they have to throw it out. Moving along, by this stage, I'm not using 'please' anymore, "Miss B, how many times do I have to tell you to stop touching the fruit." We're at the tomatoes and an older gentleman has a little smile and tells me politely that they all have to find their way somehow. Hmm, I acknowledge him but now feel like a bad mother and the guilt sets in for getting on her case and not letting her just be a kid.... this lasts for about 10 seconds. As I wondered down to the cheeses, I imagined whether he would have the same opinion if I had said "Well sir, she has hand foot & mouth, would you like it too or are you satisfied with just pesticides? Touching your tomatoes should do the trick but if you want to make sure of it, I could always get her to sneeze on them?!"
I'm in two minds now that I'm not so sleep deprived and a little less irritable as to whether to nag or not but I will definitely be washing my fruit and vegies a little more diligently.
Today was Miss B's last day of nursery. I don't think she understands the finality of this. Dropping her off this morning was a little like the first day of nursery for me, but nothing unusual for her. Miss B making her usual late rock star entrance after a big kiss and cuddle at the door but as I walked out, I was sad. Sad that she is growing up too quickly, sad that we won't be coming back to this beautiful villa filled with colour, warmth and happiness, sad that big school won't have the same familiarity and family feel, and sad because I think she's too young for the coldness of school corridors. I remember dropping her off and feeling empty during her first week but once I could see how much she thrived on the socialisation and stimulation and how warm and caring her teachers were, I was relieved and very content. I can't see myself feeling this come September. In Doha, the Kindergarten equivalent forms part of the private school system where many schools host 3-4 year olds up to senior students. The school day starts at 7.30am, Monday-Friday. My baby girl will be just 4, I'd like one more year.
I still haven't really figured out the direction of this blog but it seems to be moving towards personal snippets of this and that. It's an outlet for me and I'm not going to fuss too much over whether I think others would find a particular topic really interesting or not. It is, what it is!
The last couple of days I've had Miss B at home from nursery as she's had hand, foot and mouth virus (nothing to do with Mad Cow!) and after her bout of conjunctivitis the previous week, the smart thing to do was to infect myself. In an attempt to control our disease ridden household, I was like a broken record telling Miss B, 'don't touch your eyes', 'wash your hands' etc. To get out of the house I took her with me to do a food shop. We're in the fruit and vegie section when Miss B starts picking up fruit, dropping it on the floor, you know the drill. Normally I make a game of it and if she feels like she's 'helping' me, we get by without too many issues but today, I just wanted to get in and out. First time, "Miss B, PLEASE don't touch the fruit".... Miss B: "But why?" I explain, as I do every other time, that other people would like to buy it and if you drop it and bruise it they won't be happy when they get it home and they have to throw it out. Moving along, by this stage, I'm not using 'please' anymore, "Miss B, how many times do I have to tell you to stop touching the fruit." We're at the tomatoes and an older gentleman has a little smile and tells me politely that they all have to find their way somehow. Hmm, I acknowledge him but now feel like a bad mother and the guilt sets in for getting on her case and not letting her just be a kid.... this lasts for about 10 seconds. As I wondered down to the cheeses, I imagined whether he would have the same opinion if I had said "Well sir, she has hand foot & mouth, would you like it too or are you satisfied with just pesticides? Touching your tomatoes should do the trick but if you want to make sure of it, I could always get her to sneeze on them?!"
I'm in two minds now that I'm not so sleep deprived and a little less irritable as to whether to nag or not but I will definitely be washing my fruit and vegies a little more diligently.
Today was Miss B's last day of nursery. I don't think she understands the finality of this. Dropping her off this morning was a little like the first day of nursery for me, but nothing unusual for her. Miss B making her usual late rock star entrance after a big kiss and cuddle at the door but as I walked out, I was sad. Sad that she is growing up too quickly, sad that we won't be coming back to this beautiful villa filled with colour, warmth and happiness, sad that big school won't have the same familiarity and family feel, and sad because I think she's too young for the coldness of school corridors. I remember dropping her off and feeling empty during her first week but once I could see how much she thrived on the socialisation and stimulation and how warm and caring her teachers were, I was relieved and very content. I can't see myself feeling this come September. In Doha, the Kindergarten equivalent forms part of the private school system where many schools host 3-4 year olds up to senior students. The school day starts at 7.30am, Monday-Friday. My baby girl will be just 4, I'd like one more year.
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