We have been out and about since Thursday, spending two nights with Granny K Rocks T-Shirt boy and then last night at a reunion of sorts - five of us, and our respective other halfs and/or offspring, who spent a year studying in Kyoto twelve years ago on the same university exchange program.
The travels kicked off with the AA (Automobile Association for those people thinking I might need a wino meeting first thing on a Thursday morning) man having to come up and re-start the battery on Granny A's car because Grandad had left the key on overnight. Grandad wasn't there at the time, and if he had been he probably would have jump started the car down the hill. As it happened the AA man was very efficient and it brought back not all together unfond memories of the frequent AA call outs I had to make as proud owner of a 1972 sky blue vauxhil viva, nicknamed the vulva, that I had during my second year at uni. I remember Dad saying it would be a good first car to own, so seven hundred dollars later I was driving it home. Must have been about the only trip it made without crapping out.
Anyway, we arrive at Granny K rocks t-shirt boys house to find that Shou has now inherited the t-shirt, which means I guess that Granny K rocks t-shirt boy is no longer, and will therefore be referred to by his screen name Blake.
On Friday we took the sprogletts to Lollipops - a kids indoor playground - where the kids were let loose until the inevitable melt down. Actually, come to think of it I don't think we had a major meltdown. Shou started to lose it in the supermarket on the way home but nothing as spectacular as our K-mart department store episode of a couple of weeks ago.
A magazine article I read at said friend's house that night was about verbal abuse, and what constitutes verbal abuse. Have realised am going to have to start using sign language to own children in fear of being arrested for verbally abusing them. What with the no smacking law and the slam down on verbal abuse, it is a wonder women in New Zealand are allowed to give birth at all. Birth is after all a very stressful and painful experience for both mother and child, perhaps too painful an experience for a child to go through - or rather for a mother to put her child through. After squeezing them out we are then unable to do anything but lavish untold praise on them and pat them on the back and perhaps give the odd time out - until someone introduces a no time-out law, no doubt claiming that five minutes nutting out in a room on their own will mentally harm them and they will grow up to be socially outcast. Long gone are the days of kids running away from a mother brandishing a wooden spoon.
On Saturday we packed the cars with an assortment of portacots, suitcases, screw on highchairs and children (children not screw on just normal), and did a wee road trip down the coast to our reunion. There were nine adults and six children under five. The afternoon was as you would expect; the people with children supervising playtimes, nap times and snack times, and the two couples yet to have children, staying as far away from the house as possible until it would be well, rude not to turn up. Come five o'clock though and we had all congregated together, the first time in twelve years. We have had get togethers before but the Christchurch contingent of our group has been unable to make it until now.
After the chaos that is the dinner, bath and bed routine for parents of small children, we got down to what we were really there for - looking at old pics, laughing at how young we looked, the state of our hair, clothes, past flames and other memories that quite largely revolved around being intoxicated, looking stupid and acting inappropriately. We then got on to looking up amusing things on youtube in our hosts entertainment room, that boasted a projector screen that could well have been bigger than the side of our house.
It was a highly entertaining evening and its always nice to catch up with those kind of friends. You know, the ones you know will always be your friends regardless of how many years tick by (and or how loud your kids scream in the middle of the night when you are staying at their house - sorry people).
It was to go without question that I was to be first up in the morning what with being the mother of two children that think morning starts at 5am. Shou and Marina made themselves at home, helping themselves to breaky, trashing the toys and trying to turn morning-time-devil-mummy into semi-human mummy by throwing copious amounts of caffine down her throat.
We hit the road late morning and arrived home again mid-afternoon, after a lunch stop in Palmy. The kids were good for the first fifteen minutes of the second leg of the trip. Unfortunately the last hour and forty five minutes was a bit of a write off, with the last thirty minutes being particularly memorable. They both went hell for leather at the top of their voices. I really couldn't do anything except turn up Def Leapord and belt out along with it. I went to a Def Leapord concert with Granny K rocks t-shirt boy's mummy twelve years ago and have ever since been a bit of a closet Def Leopard fan. I borrowed a CD so I could have some sounds on the trip back today, and it made a nice change from the scratched Eurythmics CD that I had in there. I can't think of the title of my favorite song but it starts with
"lay me down slow and easy" (but not too easy because that's what got me up the duff with the bun). Am not entirely convinced these are the correct words. I'm a bit crap with song lyrics and quite often find I have been singing the wrong ones for years.
Anyway, Marina and Shou were a bit upset to find that mummy was being very unsympethetic to their cause and was infact ignoring them. But hey, why not. If you can't beat em join em - and I guarantee I sounded just as bad as they did.