Sunday, September 11, 2005


It’s been one of those days. And that’s a shame, because I was looking forward to today.

It was the start of the Rugby Academy season for No.2 son, P. Last season (P’s first) we had to be ready, on pitch, for 9:30. And although this means I never get a lie in on Sunday mornings, I no longer mind because I’ve become quite enthusiastic about the game.

Normally I am not interested in ball games, however fit or undressed the players are. But last year, with my little darling only allowed to play tag rugby, I realised I do indeed enjoy the contact and brutality of the adult version.

This morning I was excited because now P’s seven - it’s the real thing! With any of my other children the idea of them being ran into at full force with nothing but a gum shield to protect them, would scare me silly.

But not P.

P can take an elbow in the face and get up mad as hell, without a thought to his injuries, or time for a tear. So between looking forward to watching my son smashing the hell out of his class mates (his Tormentor is a player! And it's the only time he can behave like this and not get into trouble), and catching up with the rugby parent crowd (they’re a lot nicer than the footie (soccer for US readers) or tennis parents), I was on a high and approached the day with keenness.

We were about two minutes from the rugby pitch when this evaporated.

I got a flat type. On one of our busiest roads. Thankfully it happened just before the only lay-by.

P’s first words were, ‘There’s a sign saying ‘No Parking.’’

They were his second and third words too. It worried him a LOT.

Meanwhile I was calling home, so I could be rescued. Except no one answered, so I called the BH’s mobile too; many, many times, alternating between the two numbers.

The messages I left went something like this:

1. ‘Pick up. Come on…. someone pick up!’
2. ‘Please, please will somebody PICK UP THE PHONE!’
3. ‘For heaven’s sake! J, can you hear mommy? Go get Daddy!’
5. ‘You can’t ALL not be hearing this! Turn the TV off, PICK UP THE PHONE!’
6. ‘This is what happens when you have a TV on in every room! YES, IT IS OUR PHONE!’

I gave up with the messages after that, and called my parents instead.

At this point you may have the impression I’m some dainty daft female who can’t change a tyre – but I can, and have, so there!

And in this case, I would have. But. I couldn’t find the tyre.

I even ripped the carpet up in the *boot… and there was nothing there. I had a fair idea it might be under the car, but I bought new jeans yesterday and I was wearing them.

Even so, if I could’ve found the jack I swear I would have got under the car – but there really didn’t seem much point in getting the jeans dirty without the jack to do the job.

Luckily for me, my parents answer a ringing phone and within minutes were dashing to my rescue. My brother also **showed up, and was decent enough to do the dirty work.

In fact by the time J answered the phone and remembered not to put it down before telling daddy it was a real phone call, the job was almost done. But the BH was useful because he carries an air pressure inflator thingy in his car, and got the spare road worthy.

During all this I got a lift and dropped P at the rugby pitch, apologised for his lateness, and dashed back to my useless car.

We finished replacing the tyre (and found my jack) just as P finished. But I missed everything, and got dirt grained into my fingers. Coach also told me to be on pitch for nine next week. That’s just cruel.

But onto brighter things. This is a Lily:

I was planning to post a picture when it fully bloomed. This is just a bit earlier than expected as my little angels, J and S, decided I deserved a gift and picked it for me. How thoughtful of them. It took all my strength to be grateful and explain I’d rather they leave the flowers in the garden.

And now I’ve finished the weekend by burning my fingers. I don’t know what I was thinking when I picked up the grill. Typing is slow. And next time I should really try and remember: oven gloves were created for a reason!


* Most cars come with a book telling you where these things are, but I bought my car off a Japanese Auction site and had it shipped over. The book is in Japanese and I’ve never got around to ordering an English version.

** I hadn’t called my brother, he happened to call my mother moments after me and heard of my dilemma.

p.s. I deleted my messages immediately upon arriving home, for the shame, as I sounded so fed up!


Blogger Daisy Mae said...

You'll have to post some pictures or recipes of cow cabbage, especialy the baked bread thingy.

Sorry to hear about your flat tire. That sucks! I'm not even sure where the spare tire is on our vechiles.

Sunday, September 11, 2005 10:24:00 pm  
Blogger MarkD60 said...

Did your son get to mash anybody up during the rugby match?
Where was the spare tyre and jack? Underneath?

Monday, September 12, 2005 1:55:00 am  
Blogger Jona said...

Daisy Mae - I swear they HIDE the damn tyres!!

Hi Mark, And my son didn't get to mash anyone this week - but I'll be there to egg him on next week ;o)

The tyre was under the car, but the jack was under an obscure floor plate hidden beside the far back seat - I can only guess it's some sort of test to see how well you know your car! I failed *g*

Monday, September 12, 2005 11:31:00 am  
Blogger MarkD60 said...

I always look in the owners manual. Nobody could find them! Even in Japanese, I bet the pictures still tell!

Monday, September 12, 2005 5:37:00 pm  
Blogger OldHorsetailSnake said...

You need one of those phones that sends out fireworks after the 3rd call for help. Maybe I'll have to invent one first, though.

We got a thing in Oregon called skunk cabbage. It doesn't grow much over 2 feet but I bet it smells a lot worse than your cabbage.

Monday, September 12, 2005 5:50:00 pm  
Blogger Jona said...

Mark - If I'd kept the manual I could've told you, but it was in Japanese, so I didn't bother ;o)

Hoss, I want one of those phones! At the very least it could keep the kids entertained when help doesn't arrive!

And with a name like skunk cabbage, even I'd bet it doesn't smell like a rose ;o)

Monday, September 12, 2005 7:46:00 pm  
Blogger mm said...

Hi Oldhorsetailsnake - I used to live in Northern BC - and I remember skunk cabbage!

Monday, September 12, 2005 9:11:00 pm  

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