A Truly Madly Ordinary Trip To IKEA

The day is a manual book spring day,if not for the temperature still very cold for the season.The sky is bright and the sun is shining but its warmth is not really felt yet.The daffodils in the pot on the windows sill have fully blossomed behind the winter violets that refuse to wither.It looks like the two species are abandoning themselves in an affectionate embrace.The daffodils like if they are protecting theirs more fragile friends.

The girls are playing in the garden and I am writing.The time passes without me even realizing it.It is nearly five o clock: Ikea time.I have just few bits to buy. It is supposed to be a very quick visit:in and out with a stop at the bar to let the girls having their dinner there.They love those chicken meatballs I can even stand the smell of.My plan is to be back home at latest by seven o’clock. We can do it!I am confident!

Off we are on the road. I don’t know what it is with my kids but it looks like that,bedtime and car time stimulate,their will to talk.”A” starts telling me about how today they talked about healthy food in school.Apparently if you drink to much diet coke you get cancer and if you eat more the ten bananas in a day you get “cronstipation”.”You mean constipation,darling?”,”Yes that thing.But what it is exactly?”.And now I know!With the discussion about cannibalism and genetics we opened a Pandora’s box.May be in Ikea I will find a big lid to put back on it.

I am driving and thinking how to explain this extreme disease in a simple and not alarming way.It is the hypochondriac daughter I am talking to.Words must be chosen wisely or she will soon be constipated as well.No doubt about it.I won’t hide I was tempted to dismiss the whole matter just saying :”you don’t really need to know now,just limit yourself to one banana a day.”.But because I’m a such conscious mother, I throw myself into the discussion of the day.

Much more easily then I thought the concept of constipation is explained and well received.Of course she is not short of questions about it: how do you get it?can you die for it?how do you cure it ?Dear Lord,can we not have a quiet drive just listen to the radio?
After I managed to convince her that she is not suffering from constipation if she skips a day, it took me half of Ikea’s showroom to convince her that the fact that she eats too fast, doesn’t make her prone to it either.Mainly because she doesn’t eat too fast at all.Actually,she is always the last one to finish.She is a pathological wanderer and time waster(not that I cannot relate to this side of heršŸ™„).The child takes her time in everything she does.Unless,of course, you place her on a hockey pitch or a tennis court: there she flies around.God saves whoever plays against her(to this,I don’t relate at allšŸ™„) . Abruptly I have to tell her that she is mistaking her ability of shoveling half staffed baguette in her mouth in one bite with eating fast.

Inside Ikea we rigorously stick to our small list and our timetable.
Unfortunately we can’t help to be slightly late and the girls have to carry some of the smelly meatballs in the car.It is not ideal but I am well used to it.We are on our way back home.The music is on and they are quiet in the back eating and drinking.When we are about to merge on the motorway I have to violently brake as the car in front me stop with no warning. Everything inside the car is thrown around.I check the girls.They are as white as a sheet.I really hope this won’t disturb the digestion of their meal!

There is a long snake of red lights in front of us that doesn’t move.Its too late for the rush hour,it must be an accident.It is quite late already and if we get stack in that queue we won’t move for an other hour for sure.Luckily we are still on time to turn and exit the motorway.I decide to take the country road.It is a bit longer but is the only way to avoid the accident.It is soon obvious that I have not been the only one to be hit by this stroke of genius and the traffic is heavier then usual but at least it moves.Slowly,but it moves.We gave up the idea to be home by seven. At this point if we make it by 8 is a great result.

I am now starting to feel a bit claustrophobic and intolerant to the meatballs smell that is till circulating in the car.What can be worst?Well ,there is always something worst:a farting child in the back of your car.I open the windows to let fresh new air in while CG pretend she has done nothing.I secretly hope that the smell might come from outside as I like to live under the illusion that I gave birth to a little lady. I did not.

The air inside the car has changed but I still feel uneasy as we are squished in between two big trucks.The truck behind us starts flashing .I imagine there must be some faulty lights or else in the back of my car.He keeps flashing so when we stop at the traffic light I turned around to have a look.What I see are the girls giggling and waving at the truck. There is a big monkey hanging from his front.Obviously they find it funny. Hopefully the truck driver finds it funny too and doesn’t think they are mocking him.
After what happened when I was a child I am always very careful not to offend truck drivers’ sensibility.One day my mom overtook a big truck and beeped after him to make sure he knew he was,according with her roads rules, driving too slow and delaying us.We had probably left home late already and he didn’t like to be overtaken and beeped by a woman behind the steering wheel. He tailed us for half an hour until she took a turn under a low bridge where he would have never made it through.I learned my lesson,her: I cannot positively say she did.

Back to us,at the junction,we managed to loose our truck. He turned the opposite way but not before beeping and waving:This one was a good one and a one with sense of humor.
By ten to eight we made it home. Finally jackets and shoes are off.For once we are back from IKEA with nothing to be unpacked and built.The blue bag with the few bits and bobs I bought can wait until tomorrow to be emptied.My glass, instead, can’t wait any further to be filled with something fresh and nice to enjoy while getting the lunch boxes ready for school .

Thank you penchantress for reading my blog and for my nomination.As it must have been quite clear to everybody I am not good at responding Awards and my timing is pretty shameful but I would like you to check on the blog of this lady.You won’t regret it.

I have so much to say about myself that I can’ t really summarize but I feel this blog very appropriately my very versatile personašŸ˜‰

The Sunshine Blogger Award

Thank you Syed Danish for my nomination.
Here are my asnwers:
1.my blogging site is Trly Madly Ordinary
2.I decided to blog to write more
3.I only share toughts on WP
4.I like all kind of post,I am a curious by nature
5.My blogging time depends on my gang but usually is morning or night
6.My best posts judged by me or my viewers?…I dont know ,I should check the stats
7.Best compliment received so far it is for sure that I am sharpening my writing with some poetry at times
8.I would like to learn how to use better my time to write
9.I don’t have a favorite soap opera but I loved Despoerate Housewives and nearly cried when it ended.
10.I would love to go to India and Japan and to see the Gran Canyon and probably other hundreds of places I cannot thinking about now.

The Libster /Lobster Award

I want to thank you iamsfox and my new friend but already a dear one The Count Gustaf for nominating me .I won’t nominate anybody as I did very recently but I want to to show all my appreciation to this exceptional young girl and to this young count in his shining armor. Please check their blogs: The Life Of A London Teen and Writing of The Count Gustaf.

I have been asked questions from the Lord of the castle,the Count himself,and these are my answers:

1.I still cry watching ET; I laugh for every most stupid of the jokes,if out of Steve Carrel’mouth even better as tehy become funny and sexy too.Yes I confess I have a thing for the man;I puke in front of boring persons who take themself too seriously.

2.My magic?hummm,I fought years but at the end I found it in my attitude to life.

3.Here is my memory under five:I was four and an half and I got my little foot stack under the patio door,my big toe nail stayed with the door while I went inside crying and bleeding.Never wore sandals again untill I was 24 but kept going barefeet everywhere.Thing that ,tinkhing back,never made much sense.

4.Happy memories with fishes,well:Go back to my old post and you will see I don’t have many happy memories related to a fish.May be one when was a kid and I fished a pretty big one….or it was me being small in comparison?I wonder.

5.Three things about life:Life worth living in full,Life is not always easy and fair and sometimes sacks but “hey,thats life!”,life must be respected.

6.My theory of God:I dont have a theory on God.I am not a religiuos person but I am a deeply spiritual one.I can relate to Buddhism but I am also fascinated by the ancient polytheism.May be it was not that bad.

7.Why I love the Count Gustaf?Pretty obvious: because He is The Count Gustaf .

The Little Girl And The Cannibal.

Saturday night.We decide to take advantage of the free babysitting my mom can provide.She is the first to suggest it.She is happy to spend time on her own with the girls and so are they who, already taste the freedom of a late bed time.
She had her private time with her own daughter this afternoon.We took half day for our self. We went for a walk on the promenade,then for tea and cakes and for some shopping.Nona is a big shopper but, unfortunately, she is not easy and quick on taking decisions.Every purchase she makes is like to give birth to triplets:equine triplets as they are rare, if not impossible, and take 11 months.Despite the long process of deciding,she is usually at the end quite successful on buying what it can be considered a decent amount of items indeed.As the days pass, her bedroom get more and more filled with bags from the most different shops.

Myself and the traveling husband aim to leave around 8pm.Our table won’t be ready until 9.15pm,anyway.Late, I know,but that is the price to pay when you book last minute.To tell the truth,we actually don’t mind.We are quite happy to go for a couple of cocktails before dinner.

I am fully dressed.I picked the accessories to wear already and nothing can delay me,ideally. I just have to give my make up the finishing touch and pop my contact lenses on.
I hear a knock on the bedroom door and then I see a little hand opening my bathroom door.
Daughter number one,A,is in.She came to tell me about this guy she just saw on the tv news that ate his teacher:”Oh Dear Lord”.”Will we not go into a conversation about cannibalism now?!”.Of course we did!
So,here I am:all dressed,nearly on time and trying to put my contacts on.Possibly without poking my eyes full finger as normally happens ,because its nearly 8pm and I have no time for tears and smudged eyes make up to be touched up.In total honesty I don’t have time for weird conversations with my daughter either.
She asks me if the parents will go to jail for the son that ate his teacher as if he is just a kid.I say no and I explain there are jails for underage:”Even if you are a kid ,you must take responsibility of your action”.I make sure to reinforce the concept,just to avoid misunderstandings.She is still young but soon she will be a teen ager and I have no intention of acting as a net,better she knows it and hear it loud and clear.

I am ready now,and we are sitting on my bed with the giant dog breathing on our necks,staring at us from behind.She is clearly not impressed by the existence of juvenile jails but this is not what is bothering her.What bothers her is that,in her logic,the parents should go to jail too because if the son is a cannibal they must be as well.”Not necessarily”, I say,”cannibalism is not hereditary”. She is puzzled:”but in the old school,the teacher said we get our characteristic from our parents”.”Of course you do, but not everything”,I replay.”You are an individual and have characteristic on your own.Characteristics that are not inherited”.

“OMG”,how can it be that I am talking about cannibalism and genetics at eight in the evening on a Saturday night while I should already be out enjoying myself,the free babysitting and my cosmopolitan.Keeping a close eye on my watch I briefly explain that we might look like our parents for many aspects but then there are so many others that belong only to us.
She is fine with genetics.Cannibalism is more interesting and she asks which part of the human body you can eat.Now,after cursing whoever let her watch the news,I give her a brief and gory enough explanation. That should be it.I think we are done here:We are not!We are back to genetics:she asks the most evident characteristics she might have gotten from me or her father.I am dismissive and generic.I tell her to focus on the unique elements that are just hers.She is still sitting on the bed, I already have a foot out of the door when I hear,”I am very very special and unique then”.I congratulate myself as,obviously,all the work done on building and boosting her self esteem is working.May be a bit too much but,better then nothing.I soon realized I congratulated myself too early.That previous sentence, had in fact a sequel:”how do I not look like you or papa?will people think that I am adopted?.”My foot slowly steps back inside the bedroom.I rewind my self and sit down beside her:”We already talked about this before.The fact that you are blond with green eyes doesn’t mean anything.Even dark hair and dark eyes people can have blond or ginger kids.It might be a gene coming from the ancestors beside ,your father has a ginger beard,and your grandmother has the same green eyes you have”.

Believe it or not, this resemblance thing is haunting us since she was born.I lost count of all the jokes about the postman because she is gold blond and her parents are instead both dark.The worst was reached in the previous school.A temporary teacher,had the great idea to give the class a project about family resemblance.Nothing bad about it if it was not for the fact that in the class there were two adopted kids and one that never met his father.Complaints were raised and the teacher realized that her idea has not been the most brightest she could have.She apologized personally with the parents,me included. She said she hasn’t realized “A”was adopted.The poor teacher,clearly at her first experience, was in high distress.I didn’t know what to say myself and tried to minimize the situation:”A”was not adopted, I simply had an affair with and handsome Norwegian.”.She went from being in distress to being horrified until I specify it was a joke of course.Thing,this one,that I honestly thought it was quite obvious.

Eventually all the questions about cannibalism and hereditary resemblance are answered. She is totally satisfied of her features provenance and happy to go back watching tv. Me,I am just happy to go out and have a strong drink but,not before making the traveling husband promise he will regrow that reddish beard of his.

A Truly Madly Ordinary S.Valentineā€™s Day

The house woke up in a pretty high and effervescent mood this morning.School will finish early and it is S.Valentine’s day.This means after school treat at our favorite bakery for the girls and fancy handmade cards for me. I am a believer that this day is the day of lover but most of all of LOVE……whatever kind, whatever nature, whatever shape.
The travelling husband will be back tonight.His Valentine’s card was put in his bag before he left so to be found this morning and his cupcake is waiting for him after dinner.

The weather unfortunately doesn’t seem to share the light and happy mood of the household.It is a very grey winter day.Windy ,rainy and cold.While driving to school the wind was so heavy that the car was shaking.The windscreen was perpetually hit by the water splashed from the high waves crashing on the rocks.When I arrived at the beach with the dogs,the scenery in front of me was suggestive:The black sky embracing the grey sea and blending with the waves fed with sand.
Few people dared to challenge the weather this morning and I can’t blame them.We, ourself, had a very short walk…..possibly one of the shortest in history.

I am usually not that bother by the bad weather but today is different.Not becase it is S.Valentine but, because “nona”is coming.Yesterday I have spent most of my day cleaning the house and feebrezing everything and now,the house is going to smell of wet dogs for the rest of day.Damn!
Thank fully the weather picked up in the afternoon and I had the chance to leave the windows open,give the dogs a good brush and,to finish,spray them with a good dose of dogs cologne.May be a bit too much as they sneezed uninterruptedly for half an hour:Brilliant,no wet dogs smell but probably splattered drooled slime all over the place.

Once I sorted the dogs,I sent the girls to have a shower,did their hair ,clip their nails and be ready for the inspection.Me,in the meanwhile,I carefully checked to have no chipped nail polish either on my hands or toes.
I am right on track on my schedule and I can confidently tick all the boxes.Well,nearly,as I remember that I din’t ring the hairdresser yet.Nona doesn’t wash her hair at home,she goes to the salon twice a week no matter what and being here makes no exception.Thankfully they have an appointment for Friday. Now all the boxes are ticked!

It is still early and I can sit down and relax sipping a coffee before starting to get the dinner ready.
Speaking of which,the dinner,I really feel to give a warning to everybody out there:Never text or e-mail while operating a meat slicer.I, no doubt might be prone to slice my limbs as the few scars I have on my hands prove but, tonight, I really risked to leave two of my fingers in it. I didn’t. Everything is good.Everything is set and ready and it is nearly time to go to the airport.Off we go happy go lucky,it will be nice to have nona here for few days.Intense but nice.

The plane has landed half an hour ago and she is supposed to have only a cabin bag.I can’t really understand what is keeping her behind.It is really getting late,the girls are bored and the husband,who is now home, is probably starving.The phone rings and it is nona:”I am here”.”Here where?”,”Here just at the arrivals waiting”.”So are we but I cannot see you”……then it hits me like a tennis ball in the centre of the chest:we were waiting at the wrong terminal!

Eventually we made it home,all four of us.The traveling husband greets me with a bottle of cherry flavor Kirsch and a bouquet of flowers.I am in shock.I knew the liquor was coming but the flowers were totally unexpected and when I say it he replays that it is exactly the reason why he bought them:I was not expecting them.I can’t argue with that,can I? I can’t really even argue when he greets his mother in law asking if she is his S.Valentine present.She takes it well and we can eventually sit down and enjoy dinner and those yummy delicious looking cupcakes I am waiting to bite all day long.

A portion of moon is shining and I can see its light through the curtains of my bedroom:what a beauty.It has been a long day and I feel my whole body eventually relaxing.It is nice to have the traveling husband home.I tell him about my day and he tells me about his.
The sound of the silence of the night,the complicity of a late chat under the covers,the moonlight filtering through the curtains and a nice book:…..I don’t really see a better way to end S.Valentine’s day.