On being wrong....

I’m not afraid to admit when I’m wrong, in fact I wear it as a badge of honour much to DH's annoyance since he will be half way up a one-way road, with four lanes of traffic catapulting towards him, before he'll mumble 'I may have made a slight error here'.

The way I see it, admitting to mistakes as soon as possible saves time later. For example, having lived in the Tree-house for almost two months, I am now openly saying it was a mistake. Yes it is beautiful: wandering out to the verandah on a Sunday morning -- coffee in hand -- to sit and watch the gentle sway of the eucalyptus trees while being serenaded by the haunting song of the magpies, is simply heavenly. But as I sit there dreamily imagining I’m Nicole Kidman waiting for her Drover to reappear (as in the movie Australia – if you haven’t seen it, don’t bother, it’s rubbish), the fantasy is shattered by the sight of one-year-old -- red faced and determined – furiously dragging a chair up to the hand rail preparing to plummet to his death 12 feet below.

And I held up my hands and admitted I was wrong the time I questioned the sanity of the prophet on a UAE expat chat forum, resulting in a series of pretty scary and intimidating events instigated by an outraged, mouth-frothing religious zealot who all but declared a fatwa upon me (I felt like Salman Rushdie lite). Although to be honest, I wasn't really sorry for my comments, I was only sorry for my idiotic naivety.

Just on that topic: why are the super religious, (Muslims and fundamentalist Christians spring to mind), so afraid of being questioned or disagreed with? With 1.5 billion believers, Islam have the numbers and should really have  more confidence in their religion of choice and stop worrying about what others say; as if my flippant words might result in an entire mosque full of men suddenly standing up  -- mid prayer -- dusting off their knees, and saying 'someone doesn't agree? Oh well, looks like we had it all wrong; fancy a pint and a sausage roll?’ 

And sometimes, just sometimes, in my darker moments, following a day of non-stop kid fights, mess, mountains of washing and the sheer neediness of those around me, I find myself staring dolefully out the window, eyes glazed, shoulders slumped, imagining what my life would be like if I didn't have quite so many children:Was I wrong to have so many?

This doubt is highlighted when I see how organised other families are - the matching socks, the regular meals, the day trips that don’t end with everyone screaming at each other and quite often actual blood. Or the smooth bedtime routines that seem to consist of nothing more than a story - lights out - sleeping child, all to the tune of Brahms lullaby.

Bedtime in our house is only surpassed, in terms of the sheer ghastliness of it, by the hell which is the morning routine. It goes something like this (abridged version...in reality it goes on for hours) -

Me (eyeing the clock as I pour a glass of wine) - 'Go to bed'

Child -'I can't find my toothbrush!'

Me -'Well I saw one under your bed this morning...use that! Go to bed'

Child -'I can't find the toothpaste'

Me -'The baby was sucking on it earlier, check the toy box. Go to bed'

Child -'I can't find my pyjamas'

Me -'wear your t-shirt...it's hot anyway...just GET OUT!'

Child -'can I have a drink?'

-Me and DH in unison: 'just GO TO BED!'

I love them really -- each and every one of them -- especially when they're all, finally, fast asleep....

And finally -- let me say this publicly by way of an apology to DH: I was wrong when I said I didn’t need the Sat Nav. Ah yes, that most thoughtless of Christmas gifts from him -- something which I swore I would NEVER use -- has turned out to be the other man in my life. With his American drawl and thrillingly bullying ways - 'you are OVER the speed limit, you are OVER the speed limit, you've MISSED your turn, TURN BACK!' -- he has changed my world. All those hours spent driving around lost, refusing to give in and ask someone for directions, have been consigned to the past. No more driving for two hours in the wrong direction for me! Me and Sat Nav, we're invincible!