Valium. I need valium.

I have mentioned before that I don't like dandelions. Which is a problem as Spring around here is dandelions. Roadsides and backyards and vineyards and entire FIELDS full of dandelions.

I can just about tolerate the flowers, kind of, as long as they're not in my lawn. But the puffs. I truly despise dandelion puffs. Even the sight of just a few gives me the heebie jeebies.  All those nasty little weed seeds threatening my property. A full field of them? *shudder*

And then there's the puff blowing. Sure, it looks like innocent childhood fun. Sweet even. But what it actually is, is stained clothes. Dandelion-juice-stained clothes that will never be stain-free again.

And of course, it's those weeds-to-be. Fistfuls of them, stripped off by hand, gleefully flung about. Such as into Lukan's hair, because he wanted to be a dandelion puff. Not that I fear they'll sprout on his head, of course, but it's not like combing seeds out of his increasingly long, fine, easily knotted hair is exactly fun.

Non-grippy flowers in hair - perfectly fine. Grippy dandelion seeds - not so much.

Today though, today really did not help my dislike of those puffs. Because here is where they were flung:

All over my vegetable patch. My painstakingly weeded vegetable patch.

Deep breaths happening over here, people, deep breaths.

Sunday snapshot

So I recently read a book, "The Signature of all Things". And in this book were two children whose only apparent desire was to be good. To learn, and be good, and make their parents proud.

It was basically parenting porn. Terrible, trashy, parenting porn that you dismiss because it's so unbelievable, so ridiculously unlikely, but at the same time you wish - oh how desperately you wish - it was true. That you were like those parents, where a stern look or expression of disappointment would suffice to correct any slight misdemeanour. That your kids were like those kids, obedient and polite and good. Smart and good. God, I wish!

And not just because stern looks would be so much more pleasant than endless harping and occasional shouting - not to mention more pleasing to the vision I have of myself. But just imagine - one disapproving look, and your child does the right thing! What instant gratification! What wonderful self-satisfaction! And what heavenly peace of mind! No doubts, no worries, you are all right, your child is all right, all is just fine and dandy.

God, how I wish.

It's not that my kids are not smart, or never polite. It's not that they're not all right. But I am not always all right. Or even right. I never really understood the term "button pushing" before. I do now. And I hate that when the button is pushed, I respond the same unhelpful way, every time.

You broke your promise, one of them said in tears the other week. You said you wouldn't yell again, and you just did.

I did some filming at work last week, where I was "coached" by one of the leadership professors. I had to handle a conflict situation as a leader, which I failed at - quite naturally and without any prompting or acting. The professor then came in and did it a much better way... which was the point, of course, to show how it should be done, but it was a disheartening experience. I honestly did my best, I was trying to do it right dammit, and it was all wrong. My instincts were plain wrong.

So. Where does that leave my parenting instincts?

I asked the professor why it is that what we think is the right way to handle a conflict situation - what most people would do - is so wrong. We've evolved to be a cooperative species... why hasn't this included handling conflict more effectively?

He said we need to learn how to do it. We need the right role models, and most people have never been taught the skills.

Again, where does this leave my parenting? What scars and failed lessons am I giving my children?

I don't need my kids to always be good, always polite, always obedient. I do know how I'd like them to be though, and I know there's a couple of character and personality traits to overcome in order to get there. I'd like to know that we can actually help them with this. More than anything, I'd like to know how.

God, how I wish I was sure I knew how.

Summa Twenny-Thirdeen

So summer. It went by kind of fast. And in fact, it was quite short - since October last year, we have had exactly 8 weeks of warmth. But those 8 weeks? They were fabulous. Sunny and HOT, mostly coinciding with the school summer holidays. And even though C and I didn't have any time off, it was still fabulous.

Finally, finally, the kids had a summer of proper swimming lessons. Finally!

The best thing was, there should have been 4 kids per class but most days they each got a private lesson. The 5% of the time when they didn't, there was only 1 other kid. They both made huge progress.

Téo was already water safe, but by the end of the summer he could swim really well. He got so good, he's now in preparatory classes for a swim club.

Lukan started the summer unwilling to put his head under water, and ended it being able to swim underwater - although only with goggles on. So, not quite water safe, but a lot better.

So that was the kids' weeks, and the weekends were also often watery.

Sometimes frozen.

And that was it really: the pool, various lakes, a river, a big hike, a visit from my mum, a visit from my aunt and uncle, lots of fire-grilled sausages.

And marshmallows.

A fabulous, fabulous summer.

Even better

I can't deny, it warms my heart to see this. Especially since an hour before he'd asked to use the iPad to watch something on YouTube, and I'd said no, so then he amused himself first by building electric circuits with a kit from his uncle and then by reading.

I can't help thinking that such activities are better than videos and app games... but at the same time, I wonder how much of this is really true and how much is curmudgeonly-ness. Also, snobbery. And there's a bit of hypocrisy mixed in too: I do let the kids use the iPad when it suits me to be left alone, sometimes. And I like veg out in front of the TV. Plus I'm conflicted over my rules: leave your brother alone and find something to do by yourself when the other is reading, but you have to share it together when it comes to iPad usage.

Still, it warms my heart to see my kids reading.

Gone from us

He comes home smelling of cigarettes and someone else's perfume. When he comes home at all, it's getting rarer and rarer. Even when he does come in - reluctantly, unwillingly - he's desperate to get away, to be anywhere but inside what was once his home.

The kids he used to play with and cuddle - well, now he couldn't care less about them. In fact, it's painfully clear he wishes they didn't exist.

Every now and then he passes by the house on his way somewhere, gaze resolutely forward, not a single glance in. Sometimes I go out and call his name. He'll come to me, out of a lingering memory of how things were before, or maybe just habit, but where once there was so much affection - even too much at times - now there's none. He shies away from my touch, stays the shortest possible time. The whole time he's with me, he's straining to go to her.

I can't believe how quickly this has happened, either. Ever since Vietnam, just a couple of months. Well actually, I've known she was after him since last October, but not for one second did it cross my mind he'd leave us for her. I keep asking myself what went wrong. What she offers that I can't. I keep trying to make things better, but it's not working. He just doesn't love us any more.

I went over one day. To her. To say the kids missed him, I missed him, could she please stop encouraging him. With the smugness of the preferred, she said there must be something wrong at home if he doesn't want to be there. That she can't stop him coming over. Can't stop him eating at hers. Can't stop him staying the night. That if the kids wanted, they could always come and fetch him from her place.

I really, reeaaallly dislike this woman.

I want to ask her how she can live with herself, stealing him so brazenly. Whether she can look into Téo and Lukan's sweet young faces and not feel the slightest twinge of guilt. I want to snarl at her that she only ever got to know him because of me. He wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for me.

But even if I think she's completely and absolutely morally in the wrong, I can't deny the truth that he's gone from us. I can't make him love us. I can't force him to stay in our home.

Good bye Max. You'll never be able to understand it, but you are breaking our hearts.