Indy boy

A friend sent me this link last week. We often joke with each other on social media as both her kids' photos and mine are often use to illustrate Indy-themed newspaper articles, posters, videos (3:43) and similar. (I'm sure this is simply because I have tagged so many of them as creative common on flickr.)

So on Saturday we popped along to the George Square Hope over fear anniversary rally. The kids know the routine by now. You get flags and face paint and generally have fun. Léon sat down in the chair when it came his turn for facepaint, and the volunteer who was doing the painting stared at him. He took off his glasses and she stared again pointing. 'It's you!' she said. Then she turned to me 'It's him!' I was confused. I didn't know her. Then she elaborated, somewhat awestruck: 'It's the wee boy from the newspaper articles and the posters, isn't it?!' I've never been great with faces so I would never have picked up on something like that myself, but it was sweet to see him starting to be recognized as 'that wee boy!'

Anyway, maybe her work will get him into another publication or two (these are quickies from my phone, I haven't uploaded the camera batch to flickr yet - sorry to keep his public waiting! ;-) )

On the right track

Today Marcel moved to Edinburgh. It feels odd not knowing if he's in or out or when he is in for the night. It's not the first time he's been away so I have spent the last four or five years slowly letting him go, but it isn't any easier, just because you know he's old and wise enough. I suspect my impressions of the new set-up will develop slowly over the coming days.

But one thing that did make me smile today is the knowledge that we must be doing something right. As Marcel ran around packing the car, the smallest three also seemed to be running around purposefully. As he hugged them goodbye, Léon stepped forward as spokesperson and handed Marcel £1-10 in coins. 'Look, we know it isn't much but we've all clubbed together to give you this so you won't need to worry about dinner and stuff like that once you move out!' he said seriously, handing over the cash he and his sisters had taken from their piggy banks for him. What sweet kids they are, even if it isn't going to get Marcel very far at all in the capital!

Five year old logic

Amaia and I were walking round Waitrose yesterday when she came out with the following piece of  wisdom...

Amaia: Mummy, can we buy bananas?

Me: Sure, but I thought you didn't like bananas?

Amaia: I don't but it is Lily's first birthday tomorrow and she likes bananas.

Me: That's a lovely idea. Let's buy her a banana then.

Two aisles further on...

Amaia: We need a cake mix.

Me: What for?

Amaia: Well, we need to celebrate her birthday too! It wouldn't be fair if we had to have banana, would it?

I guess she had it all planned out so she could get some cake! And it worked!

Final countdown

This is how you run a family with this many kids... well it is how we do anyway, and it works. Every three months or so Thomas produces a chart like this and it gets stuck on the fridge door so we can see with plenty of warning when we might be unavailable and in need of a swap on tasks. Two days ago the last plan ran out. Computationally, Thomas decided it was much easier to run the new plan till Marcel leaves and then produce yet another one without him on, rather than programming for him being available till 11/9 but not beyond, so he printed this out and stuck it on the fridge door. The kids gathered round as usual to see who was on on their birthdays, at Halloween etc only to find this short plan instead. Thomas explained the rationale behind it. And poor Léon looked distraught as if the penny had finally dropped and walked away wailing and panicked 'Is this all the time we have left with Marcel?' It is going to take everyone a bit of getting used to.

What parenting is all about...

"You realize, mum, that when I move out in ten days time, we will probably never live together again? I know I'll come back for extended stays, holidays, even the odd summer, but unless I completely fuck up, I am not likely to move back in with you guys again. This is the start of my adult life and I am so buzzing for it! Moving out now is so right for me."

Over coffee this morning my eighteen year old son came out with this momentous piece of philosophy... Of course, as his mum, I have been painfully aware of this fact since the day he rejected Glasgow's and accepted Edinburgh uni's offer back in May but it is now hitting him too. Up till now I guess he's been thinking of going to uni term time and coming home on holidays. But as he's matured and started to think about the reality, he realizes that although visits will be fun, moving back in with his family in five years time is very unlikely. It's onwards and upwards from here on in. He's going to grow and he's not going to come home again because he's going off to make his own home. It hurts and fills me with pride in equal measure. If he has the confidence and the life skills to make this move now, we must have done it right but by doing it so right, we lose him a little.

It feels odd. It feels too soon, and yet I can see he's ready. But my own uni days still feel so close (despite the 30th anniversary get together with my uni friends this month!), I feel almost jealous of the journey he's about to embark upon. Will it be easier next time round? Will I be better prepared in three years time or will it hurt a little more each time as the house slowly becomes quieter and the need to buy a 5kg block of cheese on a monthly basis recedes?! Only time will tell...