..now is the time. Gold prices very high.
Ketamine is a horse tranquiliser. It is for the horses. If you are not a horse, it is probably not for you. Vets train for a long time to adminster horse tranquiliser to horses. You need more than one line to learn how to adminster it to yourself.Also drooling in the corner is not attractive. And Dubstep is just house for people who can’t be arsed dancing.Also what about the horses? What are they doing on a Saturday night while you are taking their drugs? Watching X Factor? Is it right to inflict Cheryl Cole, and Louis Walsh on those poor horses? Cruel.Also, if it is called ‘Rhino-Ket’- it is probably for rhinocerouses. Not you. And I can’t decide what the plural of ‘rhinocerous’ is.
THere is an NGO, which has a very special role in the UN. It participates as a state actor, within the UN, even though it is not actually a nation state. This NGO is the Holy See. The Catholic Church.I will admit, that while I was a born and raised a catholic, I don’t believe in their version of God. This means that I am probably fairly sceptical about the idea that this church was built on the instructions of some divine being. I think most reasonable person would be forced to admit, that at present there is no actual evidence which supports this particular view of the meaning of life, over anyone elses version. No matter how staunch their belief.I respect peoples right to believe what they like. If someone wants to believe that Peter was the rock upon which God built his church, hey ho. If someone wants to choose to live their life by tenets of catholicism, am ok with that, and would be very vocal about protecting their right to pursue their faith-without interference.But a position on the UN, equivalent to a nation state? That is power. Real power. When that power is combined with the power of the church as an aid/healthcare/education provider-then there is more power. Not just power within their church, but power over a lot of people, who may, or may not, share the view that this organisation is the one chosen by God, to spread His word.The nation state of the Vatican is actually an entirely male ‘state’ of about 1000 people. Does this entitle them to a position as nonmember state permanent observer?If we are giving a position on the UN which is equivalent to that of a nation state, then surely, it isn’t enough that its members believe that they are spreading the word of god- surely there has to be some kind of accountability? THat seems straightforward- accountability- monitor the way that power is used, keep an eye on other actions of that particular organisation, to ensure that there is actual evidence to support their role as moral guardian for the world?If such an organisation, say, deliberately covered up child abuse, on a worldwide scale, most recently in Ireland– should that compromise their right to hold such a coveted position?Maybe not.What about if an the NGO that held this coveted position. A position that no other NGO shares. What if, this NGO was implicated in colluding with genocide? Is collusion in genocide, AND covering up child abuse on a worldwide scale enough, to undermine an NGO’s priveledged position, as moral guardian of the world?Maybe its unfair to expect an organisation to be assessed on the basis of its actions, outside an arena like the UN, if we are talking about questioning their role within it. Surely its ok to assess the way they have used their power, within that role?What if, during a time, when an entire continent is being decimated by a virus, an organisation used its considerable power within the UN, to hinder the promotion of the one thing which could help people protect themselves against that virus? What if that virus caused more deaths than all genocides, added together? Should the stance of an NGO, who place its own views of sexual morality, over allowing people to protect themselves from death, be enough to warrant at least some consideration, of the wisdom of that power being retained?Or if the NGO continually pursued an agenda, against contraceptive, and womens reproductive freedom, which can demonstrably be shown to cost thousands of womens lives? Surely, at that point, someone should be questioning the right of that NGO to hold such a priveledged position?If collusion in genocide, pursuing an agenda which contributes to hundreds of thousands of deaths, abusing children, and doing everything in its considerable power, to cover up that abuse, is not enough to prompt questions about an NGO’s right to dictate morality to the world, then what is?
Sorry for those of you expecting, polemic, ranting, funny, whatever. Today has been a bad bad day. And I am tired, and want to cry.I quite like my life mostly, but today, its crap. Today, we are having a pity party, there is mainly me invited, and you, my dear reader-are free to shut down your browser, and flip back to what you were doing.I spent the day like sisyphus, in conflict with a three year old, whose ambitions and capabilities are confused, due to her belief that she is the centre of the universe, and the most powerful thing in it, and her righteously indignant sense of frustration, when the world contradicts this belief.In the occasional cease fires that occured, I argued with British Gas, about the reasonableness of my gas direct debit, consuming an entire weeks income each month. I familiared myself with the governments fuel poverty strategy. The house produced mess, as quickly as I could clear it.Mid afternoon, I remembered I had invited my ex for dinner. And that this point we should go to a different blog post, but I am too damn tired. I love my ex husband. He is a good man, and excellent dad. Its great when he is here, the easy familiarity of a friendship with someone who knows you better than most, ample compensation, for ending a relationship that eventually made us so unhappy, that we would tear apart our family to end it.After a shit day of waging war with your toddler, and British Gas, with the always presence knowledge, that the buck stops with you, its quite irritating to be reminded of how much easier it was, when there was another adult there, and then to remember just how great what you had was, when it was good.Then you remember that you both fucked it up so royally, that the amount of restraint that has been necessary, to cultivate and maintain any sort of friendship, could only be provided with a lip that stays buttoned, a lot. All this added up to the reason why its not good to have your ex for dinner, on a bad day. (Although the chicken and leek pie was awesome, I make wicked pastry!).And then he left. Which was the perfect point, to realise the reason Rachel had been mardy all day, was that she was coming down with something. And there we have the defining feature of my day, and possibly of the night ahead. Life is not glamorous with an ill child. We have had that blog post though- and I am repetitive enough. Now I would like to wash the sick out of my hair, but I think I am having another cup of tea first. I don’t think I want to cry any more. I have these days occasionally. Everyone does.
I tell you what I learned this last three weeks. The grass always looks greener on the other side of the fence. But if you get chance to go and sniff around at that other grass, its rarely as good as the grass you have been cultivating under your own feet for years. It just looks great from a distance.
Sleep deprivation is outlawed as a means of torture under the Geneva Convention. I dont know which article, because I am very tired. Babies and Children should be prosecuted under the Geneva Convention. The fact that they aren’t is clear evidence of institutional sexism. Nuff said. When I get out of bed, I will be constructing a strongly worded letter to someone about this.
I need to write this down, while I am thinking it. So excuse what follows.Kids development moves quickly. Fucking quickly. Scarily quickly. Today Rachel was reading her fish book- its just a Dr.Seuss book with some plastic fish looped across the top. She started showing me which fish looked like which, and which were the same colour, and counting them, and showing me where there were the same amount of fish. And telling me which fish had similar noses, and similar shapes.She was explaining it to me, and I realised this was new. She couldn’t do this last week. Or possibly yesterday.Then at bedtime when she wanted my boyfriend to read her a story, I pretended to be upset, pulled a sad face and went to the door, expecting the normal begging me to come back which ensues. Instead she laughed and shouted ‘bye…see ya later…’ and waited till I was on the landing before she ordered me back.And then she asked me to sing to her, and I realised I could’nt remember the last time I had done that, it had been so long. I have no memory of the last time I did it- so it was never a conscious decision not to.This is how it goes. You dont notice the tiny things, cos they happen every single day. And they are gone. You dont notice that they are gone, because they are replaced with amazing new tiny things. And its a pain in the arse to spend your entire time wondering over the miracle that is watching a child grow up. So you stop noticing. Then every so often-they blow your mind. My baby has no trace of baby at all. Not one. She is a little girl. A full on smart little girl.Mindblowing.
I have ordered the first of Rachels christmas presents. I am skint. Fairly skint, anyway. It’s going to take a fair bit of financial magi-trickery to ensure that christmas is gotten through without us ending up in the poor house.I have ordered some lovely things- lots of Dora the Explorer tat, and what she is getting mirrors the list she wrote for Santa fairly accurately. (Apart from the BIG SCISSORS!). Things which show how well I know her, how much I want her to be happy. Presents that hopefully will make her squeal with delight.Who is going to get credit for this? A made up fat bloke, in a bad suit. Not only do I have to hand over all credit for my time and money, to this made up fat bloke. I have to leave him out a sodding mince pie, and draft a response to the letter that we carefully wrote to him, on his behalf.Pah. Santa- you are a glory hunting twat. I am going to tell her that Santa doesn’t exist. I am going to tell her he is just another mechnism, by which a patriarchal society, takes credit for motherhood, away from women.Maybe I wont. Think I might do what we did last year, and get her big brother to hide upstairs on Christmas morning, and pretend it is Santa, checking to see if she likes her presents…
I was sat in the bath the other day with Rachel. We do this a lot. She is used to seeing me naked. Sitting in the bath with a curious three year old can raise some very interesting questions. For instance, she was quite interested to know whether I was aware that her dad, brothers AND my boyfriend, had willies. She knew this, because her dad had told her that he had a willy because he was a boy. She was quite surprised that I knew this before she told me.She thinks its very funny that I have boobies, while she has pimples. She thinks its even more amusing that daddy is a boy and has bigger boobies than I do.She is quite curious. She has figured out that there are differences between a her body and mine- and the differences between boys bodies and hers, amuse her no end. She has tried to peeing standing up, like her friend Sam, and got very upset when she couldn’t make the wee wee land anywhere but the puddle on the floor. She is getting quite confused over why willies, and marys(I did not invent this word-I blame my sister) have hair on them.I am ok with this-there have been no awkward questions that I can’t answer. Her dad has been slightly perturbed when she has tried to grab his penis and take it to the other end of the bath…..I have nothing so grabbable. Occasionally one has to remove oneself from the room to laugh, but I had no worries about this aspect of parenting.I figured, bring her up in a house where nakedness not an issue. Dont talk about food in terms of weight loss. End result-relatively well adjusted child, few body issues. Great.I wasn’t prepared for how to deal with porn. Not at 3.Rachel likes a magazine every now and again. Cbeebies helpfully market magazines aimed at 2 year olds- they stick a load of their favourite characters on teh cover, include some stickers, and a plastic piece of shit toy- charge you 2.99 for privelege. I object to this a bit. I cant really afford it all the time, and its a bit ridiculous that magazines are cynically targeted at children in this way-but am not bothered enough not to buy them. Its a nice treat. She gets excited when she gets one. I like it when she is happy.I dont quite like it so much when 3 feet away from the magazines marketed at her- there is porn. Images of over inflated, waxed to oblivion women, – in all variety of tacky soft porn type ‘costume'(or in one notable example recently- bent over waiting to be fucked with a black box barely photoshopped over her genitals). On newspapers, in relatively mainstream magazines. This is not nakedness. I have no problem with nakedness. The male fantasy of girl on girl action, not just alluded to, but on the cover of Nuts magazine-with two celeb wannabe girls, feeling each others artifially augmented breasts, not for their own pleasure-but for the titillation of their adolescent(in mind, at the very least) readership is not nakedness. Someone tell me how to explain the difference between these images and nakedness to a 3 year old.’Mummy-why is that woman bent over, mummy that lady has a witch costume like mine, but why are her boobies sticking out?(followed later by Rachel trying to pull down her halloween dress, so her ‘boobies’ would show).If someone could also explain why porn being so far into the mainstream, that I have to explain it to a 3 year old, and that it will form part of her image of women- is ok, I would like that. I would quite like it if any objection to this on my part, wasn’t dismissed as me being uptight about nakedness, or as this blogger found, evidence of a lack of ‘cock’. And could somebody please put the porn on the top shelf, or at least on a different shelf to Balamory bloody magazine.I dont expect the world to stop because I have a child. I dont advocate censorship of music lyrics, just cos I dont want to have to explain stuff. But porn? Surely there is a line somewhere? Surely, its not ok that porn is part of the landscape for a bloody 3 year old. I want her to know about the human body, about sex. But porn isnt about either of those things, is it?