MISSING! One Slightly Worn Monkey...

WANTED: ONE MUCH LOVED MONKEY, SLIGHTLY WORN

Something truly terrible has happened...the fear of every parent with young children. Carl's Monkey has Gone Missing. MISSING I tell you! This is the same Monkey who has comforted him every night for the past four years, been dragged on and off countless planes to New Zealand, Singapore, Scotland, England, Denmark and more countries besides. He's survived hundreds of hours of car trips doubling as a pillow, tens of thousands of kilometers stuffed in hand luggage, and countless washes in the machine, Scout sleep-overs, days being dragged in and out of the sandpit, piles of lego, bicycle bags...and yet he's never gone missing before. To be honest he's rarely more than a meter from Carl's reach outside of school hours, and has been smuggled into school on more than one occasion. 

The photo above is just one of countless which I have found on my iPhone over the years, taken in secret by Carl when I'm not looking in homage to his best buddy. And here he is Christmas 2009, joining in the fun, as always within reach of Carl:

Monkey comes from Build A Bear, that chain of shops where kids get to pick out their cuddly toy of choice, stuff it, put in a heart, help sew them up then convince their parents to spend a small fortune on cute outfits. 

This is Monkey dressed in the Star Wars Stormtrooper outfit I brought back from Houston last year:

Since then Carl's looking a bit better (more teeth) and Monkey is looking a bit more tattered (less fur) but they are still inseparable. Which is why No 2 sobbed himself to sleep tonight while his parents turned the house upside down looking for a small brown primate whose 'birth certificate' lists him as Triceratops Transformer, but we all know simply as...Monkey.

Growing Up

Niels practising, 26/3/2011

Sometimes kids just seem to grow overnight, and that's certainly been the case with both No. 1 and No. 2 lately. Every time I turn around, Carl seems to have grown into the next size of jeans, and tomorrow I'll have to weed out all the too-small t-shirts from Niels cupboard. Where have my little boys gone?
So here's a couple of photos to keep the family updated in case you don't recognise us next time we arrive at the Airport and think I've traded in my little snuggle-muffins for a couple of strapping Dutch boys. As Carl would say in his best posh British accent, "bloody hell lads, what's going on here then?"

Ben 10 to the rescue!

Spring Has Sprung!

It seemed like it would never happen but suddenly spring has arrived. The grass has greened ever so slightly, crocuses and snowdrops are blooming, and even the daffodils are on the verge of bursting into flower any minute. The wildlife is getting that itching feeling again too; our resident blackbird is once again lining her nest right by the back door, scaring the life out of me whenever I walk past by shooting past horizontally at nose level when I approach the door. Last week I was amazed to see a falcon perched on top of our bird feeding table, only about 4 metres from the window. At first I had a bit of a panic as I thought he was eyeing up Rocco, obliviously muching bird seed that had fallen to the ground below. However given that the rabbit was about 5 times larger than falcon, I'm pretty sure it was actually eyeballing the littel hole at the entrance to the burrow of our resident field mouse, who has hibernated the past few winters at the base of our magnolia tree. I realise this is a specatacularly bad photo but he kept flying away to a nearby tree every time he saw me approaching the window with a camera:

Spring is also the time of year for pruning some trees, and I was lucky to time a visit to my friend in Vorden just when she was having the willows on her farm cut back. Willow branches are utterly delicious - if you happen to be a rabbit - and provide a welcome snack at this time of year when the vegetation has been nibbled to bare dirt after a long winter. So I filled up the back of the car and brought home a load. The bunnies were ecstatic with my offering, less so with my trying to get photos of them eating it.


Monsieur Rocco A. Rabbit says: "Yezz? Can you not zee I am buzy, eating ze willow...enough of your zilly photoz, be gone!"

 In the mean time I've stored the pile in a corner of the garden - having rabbits is not really conducive to tidy gardening anyway - and give them a couple of branches a day to munch through, which keeps them busy and happy. Unless I try to take a photo, of course.


Madam Punky M. Rabbit is NOT AMUSED



...And It's Still Winter...

For the third year in a row, hubby took the boys to Sweden to visit their Aunty and cousins in the spring break. I say spring, but as you can see by the photos, winter still has a strong grip on Scandinavia. However there were no complaints about the cold (mainly because I wasn't there!), and they all had a great time. It was also the boy's first ever time on skis, and they spent some time burning off energy cross-country skiing.

Niels was determined not to be photographed, so this photo above is the only one of him on skis. Carl, a natural exhibitionist, was only too happy to pose of course. He also celebrated his seventh birthday with his cousins; it's hard to believe he's growing up so fast. Last night he came downstairs half an hour after I'd put hi mto bed to announce he had discovered a wiggly tooth. He returned to bed...then raced downstairs ten minutes later with the tooth in his hand and a bloody hole in his top gum! Apparently he just couldn't wait for nature to take it's course and pulled it out himself. Eeeeuuuuuww!

No I Don't Glow In The Dark

Fuel rod control mechanism on top of reactor vessel

Every now and again I get to do something very cool for my job. This is one such occassion. Can you guess what this is? Anybody...anybody.... Ok, I'll tell you. I'm leaning on the top of a nuclear reactor vessel. A real one. This is a massive metal structure that houses a nuclear Pressurized Water Reactor (PWR), the most common type of nuclear reactor used today. Those big metal pipes coming out contain the control rod mechanism, which allow the uranium fuel rods to be raised or lowered into the core to speed up or slow down the fission reaction. How cool is that?
A couple of weeks ago I visited the International Nuclear Academy in Chalon-sur-Saone, a town in Burgundy, France. They have access to a nuclear power station simulator which includes every important piece of equipment you find in an operating nuclear plant. Not replicas or small models, but the real things. And it's all HUGE. I can't even imagine how many tens of millions of euros it's all worth.
The centre is used to give power plant operators and technicians hands-on training, and I had a lot of fun climbing up and over steam generators, handling fuel bundles, peering through massive coolant lines and watching trainees hone their skills removing spent fuels rods out of a reactor (below). The reactor pool is even filled with tens of thousands of litres of water, glowing a bright blue, just like the real thing.


Operators removing spent fuel rods and inserting new ones into a reactor vessel

The only thing missing of course is the uranium; this is all real equipment but obviously none of it has been used with real fuel so there's no radiation. You can even practice filling up spent fuel rod canisters (below).



Spent fuel canister



It may not sound like a great day out of some people, but I felt like a kid in a toy shop. Definitely a highlight so far!

Yes It Was THAT Flu

It turns out that our town has been hit by the Mexican flu, so I suppose that's what made Carl so sick. In the end he was off school for a week, but he's still tired and a bit paler than normal. Niels recovered quickly and is now completely in denial that he was ever sick. At least he doesn't suffer from man-flu (yet!).

Spring is finally arriving and I'm crossing every apendage hoping that we don't get a late snow storm or freeze. The flowers have started to come out, the birds are chirping like mad, and the bunnies are digging up the lawn. Again.



Rocco dozing in the sun



Rocco is doing brilliantly, and I've just taken a quick pic of him in the garden, dozing in the sun (above). He can hold this pose for anything up to about quarter of an hour before suddenly coming to life and hopping off to continue his rounds in the garden. I guess it's the bunny equivalent of nodding off in front of the t.v., without the drool. And in case you are wondering why Punky Muffin never seems to be in the photo with him, it's because every time I walk outside, this happens:

Punky Muffin: "pet me or feed me, just don't ignore me!"

Och Aye, It's Glasgow!



My tartan

 So we made it to Glasgow, woo-hoo! By Saturday morning Niels was looking a bit rough; his temp had gone up to 39.1 so I gave him a dose of paracetemol and he seemed to cheer up. He is so rarely sick it was bit of a novelty for all of us, and we kept our fingers crossed that it wasn't going to develop into anything too bad. First priority was the slap-up buffet breakfast downstairs. Niels first ecstatic words were "Cool, they've got haggis for breakfast!" and he tucked into a plateful of that. (I know, I know, but he's a half Dutch-half New Zealand kid who lived a large part of his life in Singapore and loves haggis, what can I say). I enjoyed some black pudding while Carl tucked into a bowl of baked beans...I wasn't volunteering to sit next to him for the rest of the day!
We spent the morning with friends, whose daughter kindly offered to babysit the boys while we went to the party that night (thanks Karen!). After indulging in a lovely roast chicken lunch we resisted the urge to just roll our now considerably round bellies back into our beds for a wee nap and instead headed off to the excellent Science Centre, one of Glasgow's highlights. After half an hour in the very cool interactive and hands-on Science Mall we watched an amazing film in the Imax theatre there about the Hubble space telescope. Emerging feeling very small and insignificant in the grand scale of things indeed, Niels was clearly started to wilt so we walked back to the hotel - which is next to the Science Centre - to chill for a few hours.
Surprisingly both kids were keen for dinner, Carl indulging his passion for good old English fish and chips with a bowl of baked beans on the side (guess whose bed he's was going to be sleeping in tonight?).
In the evening I slipped into my new tartan skirt and it was off to the party. It was an enjoyable evening and we returned to the room by about 11pm and said goodbye to Karen. Both boys were asleep in one big bed so we were getting ready to hit the sack...when in wobbled Carl, shivery and feverish, tearful and jittery. I took his temperature and it was FORTY TWO DEGREES!!!!
Cue controlled panic mode as we simultaneously stripped him off, dosed him up on Paracetemol and draped wet towels over his upper body to try and quickly cool him down before he started having a seizure. Clearly he'd caught what Niels had but in a more aggresive form. Crisis averted, but we would be keeping a close eye on both of them for a few days.
The next morning the boys were both feeling pretty rotten but making the most of it. After a very small breakfast - let's face it none of us needed more food anyway! - they crawled back into bed and stayed there until we caught our bumpy flight home.
Funnily enough they both keep saying what a fun weekend it was and how much they love Scotland, which just goes to show that if we could all look on the bright side of life as much as kids do, we'd all be happier people.

Bumpity Bumpity Bump...

Ok as hubby rang especially from the North Sea last night to remind me, I can't keep complaining about the winter because we DID make it to Scotland last Friday afterall, despite the high winds. After our flights were cancelled we were luckily able to get seats on the evening flight departing at 8:35 for Glasgow and discovered it is possible to get sea sick on a plane. Yes, sea sick.

Meanwhile, Niels had come home for lunch on Friday and seemed off colour. He was quite tired so rather than send him back to school we bundled him into bed for a rest since it was going to be a late night. By the time we went to the airport he had a bit of a high temperature so I packed Paracetemol and my digital thermometer just in case.

As we boarded the plane the first thing we noticed was that it was MOVING. Not rolling down the runway, but sloshing from side to side as the wind gusts outside made it heave and pitch like a ship anchored in a stormy bay. We staggered down the aisle like 150 drunken sailors and it's the first time I've boarded a plane and heard every passenger clicking their seat belts on before the engines have even started. Ominous. The kids were excited to be off to another country, favourite monkey and bear clutched in their hands and no sign of sleepiness despite the late hour.

Taking off was...interesting. Remember that stormy bay? Apparently there were a few ski jumps installed just for fun and we bounced over every one before the wheels left the ground. Trying to keep a jolly I tone I said to the kids "this is fun, isn't it...aaaaAAAAAAAAAaaaahh!" as the wings dipped first left, then right, then the plane did that bizarre maneuvere where the nose twitches left, the tail flicks right, and you just know deep inside that planes are not supposed to fly diagonally! As we climbed steeply - presumably to avoid any more ski jumps - the sloshing sensation continued and Carl slowly turned pale, then slightly greenish. Out came the sick bag and I was left cursing the fact that Mum's always get to sit between the kids; why is it never Dad's that get puked on? Was that hidden in the small print of the marriage vows?

Amazingly once we gained altitude the flight smoothed out, the puke crisis was averted and the landings - there were about four before the wheels finally settled on the ground for good - were not too frightening. As my Dad says, any landing you can walk away from is a good one. It was off to the Crown Plaza where the kids were too hyper to sleep before 1 am, and hubby and I resorted to splitting up and taking one boy each into our beds and shutting the connencting room doors to settle them down. Hardly a romantic start to the weekend.

Now I REALLY Hate Winter

I just sat down to check up in for our flights to Scotland, where we plan to have a weekend away with the kids and go to hubby's belated work Xmas party. PLANNED, I should say; our flight has been cancelled due to strong winds. Bugger bugger bugger. Looks like I won't get to wear my new tartan skirt after all.

Kid's City; Play Paradise in Borne

In the weekend the boys and I finally made it to Kid's City, a large indoor playground about 30 minutes away in Borne, near the German border. I say finally because we were on our way out the door to visit it when Rocco had his accident. Although I moan about my kids sometimes, I was proud of the way they swallowed their disappointment at having that trip cancelled as they were literally climbing into the car and focused on Rocco's problems for the weekend instead; not bad for a 6 and 9 year old.

The delay just made our visit even more fun this time. With a swash-buckling pirate theme, Kids City is three floor of sweat-inducing fun for under 12s. The multi-layered playground is of the type you see everywhere these days with netted sides and padded obstacles, except bigger and better! 50 different play elements have been incorporated into the structure, which is a veritable maze. Several seating areas provide places for parents to escape to, although as is always the case in these places, ear plugs or an iPod are essential to prevent your brains bledding out of your ears every time (someone ele's) brat gives a piercing squeal.

The cafe sells pirate themed food and for those who really can't bear to leave, there's a Pirate Buffet at night. Really.
Because the seating area is raised up, you can look down into the play area and watch Dad's being pelted to a pulp in the ball-bin, and little boys pinging themselves of the walls of the bouncy castle until they want to puke. And all for only €4.95 per child! Guess where we'll be going for Carl's 7th birthday next month...

Update on Rocco, & the Perfect Winter Pavillion

Firstly thanks to those of you who rang or emailed messages of support for Rocco. The good news is; he's doing fabulously! In fact after the first day he couldn't figure out what all the fuss was about, although he was high for a week on painkillers which may explain that. Anyway I appreciated the good wishes and they at least partially compensated for the 125 new grey hairs which appeared overnight. Rocco had his stitches removed on Monday afternoon, and he is healing well. I've just this minute raced outside to take a photo so here he is:

I think his new look makes him look wily and wise, although it has been sorely tempting to put a pirate patch over his eye...
By the way this photo was taken in the bunnies new Winter Pavillion. After last year's cold and snowy winter I wanted to find a good solution for the rabbits this year that would allow them to enjoy their daily activities outside without having the discomfort of dealing with the snow and ice for weeks on end. I think Rocco is too much of a Senior Bun to have to deal with wading through snow, and sometimes last year the fur around his bum seemed to be wet and cold for days. So one afternoon in late November I had a flash of inspiration and sketched up the design for the Winter Pavillion. Our good freind Derek agreed to make it, and even drew it up professionally in 3D Auto Cad to make sure it was perfect!The Pavillion is basically a deep tray with an overhanging roof, raised off the ground to prevent it getting damp. Lower access points have been made on three sides, wheels at one end and a handle at the other make it easy to move, and the generous overhang keeps out snow and rain. With a deep layer of hay it's the perfect place to chill, hang out, and have your ears licked (if you're into that kind of thing). The main thing is, the bunnies LOVE it! Key to the success of the Pavillion I think is that it's open on all sides so they have a 360 degree view (well at least Punky Muffin does because she can see!) to patrol the garden, while still being sheltered from wind and rain. Once the snow started falling they literally spent all day in there, nibbling on snacks like veges or apple branches which I toss in a couple of times a day. If anybody wants the plans on CD, you can have them in excahnge for a donation to the Opvang Franky rabbit rescue; just send me an email via the comments button below.
With Rocco being blind (even before he lost his right eye), he relies on his sense of smell to navigate around the garden and the snow seems to mask many of the familiar scents; the first snowy day I saw him standing bewildered and a bit lost, nose in the air, trying to figure out where he was. So each day I shovelled the 'bunny trails' clear for him, keeping his regular circuit free of snow; the perimieter of the garden, his favourite pee spot, access to either side of the Winter Pavillion and to the ivy plant he's determined to kill by chewing through its ankles before spring. With these paths kept clear he would happy hop around, stretching his legs doing his circuit before snuggling back into the pavillion. We could almost hear him happily "bumbly bumbly bumbly" - ing to himself as he went along. As I tell my friends, my rabbits are not spoilt; they are much loved.

A VERY Bad Day

Yesterday was supposed to be such a nice day. The kids and I discovered that there's a massive indoor playground about half an hour away on the A1 heading towards Germany and planned to spend the day there; me with a pile of books and my iPod, them running around and yelling themselves hoarse in the pirate-themed 'play paradise'.

We were getting ready to go, and in the back of my mind it registered that I hadn't seen Rocco outside for a while. As we got our stuff together I glanced out a few times, checking the places he would normally be around 10am and decided to have a quick check before jumping in the car. I found him in the hutch with his back to the door. Opening up the lid I said " hey Rocco..." then noticed two drops of blood in the straw bedding. Carefully scooping him up, I looked down and spotted a red mass protruding from his head where his right eye should be. It was one of those horrendous moments, when you feel like your guts have just dropped into your shoes while your brain implodes against the top of your skull. My heartbeat went from 60 to 120 in about 0.5 of a second as Crisis Mode set in. I quickly put him back down, flicked the door of the hutch shut in case he tried to leave and ran inside. Grabbing the phone I rang the vet clinic; they were just about to shut. After telling them I would be there in less than 5 minutes with an emergency I yelled at the kids to either come with me or stay here but to decide RIGHT NOW. Within a minute I had Rocco in the car and we were at the vet within 2 more minutes.

At first it looked hopeful; as the vet first cleaned the wound with saline, the red mass turned out to be a blood clot. However as she rinsed further we both went "Oh!" as we simultaneously saw what was clearly the lens of the eye crumpled on his lower eye lid. The eyeball was ruptured. The eye would have to be surgically removed and the lids stitched permanently shut if he was to survive.

It's at moments like this that I start mentally kicking myself in the head as I try not to get emotional, not to let feelings take over from logic and crowding the space in my head as critical split-second decisions need to be made. The vet and her assistant were both on their own time; in theory I should bring Rocco back on Monday (never an option) or find the emergency vet in the region. However without hesitation she asked her assistant if she would work overtime and the answer was yes.

There was no question about whether or not to operate. Rocco has been practically blind in both eyes anyway for a long time due to cataracts, and if he survived the operation his quality of life would not be impaired; he would not be in any pain or further handicapped. However the big danger was the anaesthetic. Rocco is 'officially' (according to the vet) the oldest rabbit in our town, and at 9 years 7 months, the oldest one she has ever seen. Surviving the operation was a huge risk for him, but one we had to take. There simply wasn't another option. As he hunched on the examination table, motionlessly leaning his head in the palm of my hand, I wondered if this was goodbye. He never made a noise the entire time, but feeling that small weight of him in my hand, leaning for support in a silent plea for help, I was acutely aware that his life was literally in the balance. Gently putting him back into the cage, I tried not to think that I may never get to pat him again and telling him I'd see him soon, I left.

There followed 90 nail-biting minutes while I waited at home for the phone call. I filled the time frantically trying to find what he had poked his eye on, and setting up a large cage in the lounge for him to recover in for the next week or so. He will have to be separated from Punky Muffin until the stitches come out (PLEASE don't let them un-bond again!) and for the first night he would need extra heating to prevent post-operative shock setting in.

Finally the phone rang; he had survived and was starting to wake up. I collected him gratefully, only just resisting the temptation to crush the vet in a huge hug. Gingerly laying him in his temporary home in the lounge, he flopped groggily into the soft bedding and gradully woke up over the next four hours or so. By late afternoon he was starting to nibble vegetables, and he was more or less fully awake by late evening. This morning he was feeling a bit lethargic but since the weather was sunny and all the snow has melted in the past couple of days I let him out - closely supervised - to spend time on the grass with Punky Muffin. He immediately cheered up, gave himself a thorough groom and started trying to hump her. He is truly unbelievable.

The reason I'm posting these pictures is so that you can see that while small animals do get seriously hurt despite our best attempts to keep them safe, rapid veterinary help can do wonders. Don't give up on them. The odds of Rocco not waking up after surgery were high, but he deserved the chance, and he sailed through. He's got some recovering to do but with continued TLC he should make a full recovery and be back harassing his girlfriend within 8 or 9 days. Once the swelling goes down and his fur grows back he won't look like he's just gone 3 rounds with Mike Tyson. The point is our pets deserve every chance we can give them to lead long, healthy lives.

Happy 2011!

You're probably sick of hearing it by now but I really mean it: I hope no-one I know has anything blight their year and that the next 12 months are a box of fluffies! Unfortunately that's pretty unlikely but fingers crossed.
The kids were back to school today, and as I was trying to swoosh them out the door on time Carl had his first little melt down of the year. I bought him some snow boots just before the Christmas holidays started and he's been proudly stomping around in them ever sinice. Problem is...they have laces. Kids these days just don't do laces. Shoes are velcro-strapped until they are at least 10 years old and somewhere along the way we'd forgotten to teach him how to lace his shoes.
Tears and frustration at not being able to tie a bow himself threatened to ruin his day. Fortunately he has another pair of boots (with velcro) which he could wear instead today...so tonight is lace-tying lesson time!!

Behind the scenes football team AZC-5; Part 2

Dear reader,

Injuries are something special in our football team. What surprises me the most is that most of our injuries happen when Coach Half is with us. There is an explanation for this; Coach Half is with us once every 3 or 4 weeks, Coach 1 is referee and Coach 2 just plays with his grandson. So when we get injured we try to time it when Coach Half is with us otherwise no one will help us, right?
It is sooooo funny to see, when someone is injured, Coach Half runs into the field, most of the time he didn’t see what happened and he often runs to the wrong player. While he is running with his water bag we tell him where to go and who is injured. It really looks very professional. By the way every team of my club has its own water bag including a sponge to help the injured player. But someone took away our sponge. Our coaches were of course shocked, totally in panic because OUR SPONGE was gone. It must be said that they fixed it in their own way and found a solution. We now have a dishcloth, you all know it, a yellow spongy Sorbo cloth. I have to admit that after sometime u get used to it, but when I am home and look at our kitchen and see the same dishcloth I almost get a heart attack coz I am afraid I took the one from football field home. Lucky me, my wife now knows how to calm me down.

On a nice sunny Sunday morning in spring our youngest defender was injured, it was terrible to see; he was screaming loudly for nothing, but ok. The other defenders who stood nearby him, gave him plenty of advice like, “hey asshole nothing happened and don’t let us down”. This is not always helpful so Coach Half has to come onto the field with his famous water bag including that f*cking stupid yellow dishcloth, as usual Coach Half didn’t know who was injured so he runs half way around the field and finally arrives at the right player. When he arrived Coach Half saw that one of the defenders was already trying to take the temperature of the injured player, the only thing was he didn’t used a normal thermometer but just used his finger. Some other guy tried to blow on the wrist of the poor guy; Coach Half asked why and the answer was that years ago the school doctor also told him to blow on his wrist. Coach Half looked bit strange when hearing this explanation. Anyway Coach Half started to make the yellow dishcloth wet and washed the hurt player very nicely. The only 3 visitors of the game looked a bit strange but we’ve gotten used to this over the years. Coach Half also started to investigate the chest of the wounded player by pushing the chest and giving it some friendly hits, he also pushed a little on the bones. The poor guy started to shout loudly and we told him to be quiet coz we didn’t liked his yelling but somehow the player was right coz later on in hospital it was discovered that one bone was broken. We still don’t know if this happened due to the tackle or the first aid of Coach Half. It seemed that the player could not go on with the game so he made it difficult for us to win. However as we have done many times, the defenders did a really good job and saved the rest of the team and that’s why we won this game.

Of course we had a party afterwards in our canteen. The evening before Coach 2 had made some really nice meat balls, very spicy with lots of chilli, his wife was probably not home that evening. He can always explain it to us sooo nicely how he made those meatballs. In the evenings after he came back from the toilet, please don’t ask what he did there, he went to the kitchen and made from some kilos of meat nice meatballs, we still don’t know if the colour of the meatballs, a nice brown, is because of his toilet visit or from cooking but ok. Anyway, when he makes those meatballs for us he always arrives later at football field but we forgive him for this, yes he becomes our hero until we have finished the meatballs. We always tell him how much we love him. Of course Coach 1 and Coach Half become jealous but as soon as we finish the meatballs we start hating Coach 2 as much as before. Anyway Coach 2 had made those famous meatballs the evening before this game and before that youngest player broke his bone. It has to be said that after some alcohol Coach 2 start shouting like a class of schoolgirls and within 5 minutes he totally forgot if we won or lost the game. To him everyone played a good game and he likes to thump everyone on the shoulder who is close to him and when he can’t thump their shoulder he will hit them in the chest. Pity for the wounded player coz Coach 2 could not find his shoulder and therefore kicked him on his chest and yes exactly on the broken bone, it was very funny to see, although the wounded player could not laugh, he is such a pussy. Anyway we stayed late and had lots of fun.

This is also the next problem for most of us; because we have fun almost every Sunday, our wives also know we have lots of fun and that we will come home late. And the next Sunday we hear the story that some wives were angry of course. Yes all of us know that bad story.
We like football and the time we share together after the game too much and not all women agree with us.

Ok and now I reach the end of this peek behind the screens of my team AZC-5. I think this story is the same for all the other teams, every football player will have such stories, don’t take it too seriously just laugh about it.

Behind the scenes of football team AZC-5; Part 1

Hi blogosphere, you will remember a while ago I had a guest blogger, Mr Jan D from my work. He's a guy with a talent for seeing the humorous side in most things, and today he has kindly allowed me to publish the first installment of a story he wrote for his football team's newsletter. He's even translated it into English and I'm sure you'll enjoy it! It's quite long, so I'll publish the second half in a couple of days. Here's Jan...

Dear football friends,

In anticipation of the new football season I want to take u back into the past, despite the advice we hear so often in our lives, work, marriage and even on the football field, “Just look ahead because you can’t change the past”. Its sounds great, those words, but sometimes it’s so nice to look back! In the past everything was better, RIGHT? But not with my team, so I will try to show you how it works.
In my team there are only young guys (45 years old and even older, much older to be honest.) But we also have some young “rabbits” in the team; one even recently became a father again. Knowing that in my team we only talk and reminisce about what we got up to when we were young - which is why we play in this team - this guy went and did what the rest of us can only talk about after our games.
Our team has two and a half coaches. These coaches are like a safe rock in the sea for our team. This is not a joke because when the game starts it really looks like we have two rocks on the field. Every now and then they move a bit but it’s so slowly you can hardly see it. So is it strange that we have 2.5 coaches? NO, this is very normal for us. Coach Half told us a long time ago that he works in a prison and is not available every weekend. Dear readers, I know u that you must be thinking “does he works in prison or is he a prisoner?” Well we had the same question but when u get bit older u get more perspective. Therefore we also love Coach Half.

I’d like to take through a normal Sunday morning. Our home games start at 9.30 am. Why for Gods sake it should be so early? Nobody knows, but maybe it’s because then the neighbours so can sleep in and we don’t bother them.
I’m usually one of the first to arrive, and take a place at the table near the coffee machine. Dear readers, it is so funny to see these talented guys come in, like young dogs! You can see how motivated they all are, their faces shows it, especially when more then half of the guys say “Goddamned it’s still f*king early, I could sleep for hours” and “I wish I hadn’t drunk that last beer." The same defender always asks; “hey mate, which team are we playing,” so then I think all will be fine, pffffff.

But the nicest moment is yet to come because our coaches expect us to be in before 9 am. As the last seconds approach we all count down and everyone who comes one sec too late gets a nice yell from us, coz he will be the substitute for the coming game. Needless to say we also inform our coaches if they didn’t see who was late, and pass on the name of the guy.
Coach 1 is usually already in and is busy in the board room, don’t ask me what he is doing coz nobody knows. Coach 2 always arrives late; we can see him cycling like an idiot to be on time. He is also the one who tells us which players will play. Don’t think it’s that difficult coz normally he writes the names on a piece of paper on Sunday morning when goes to the toilet. It seems he is able to sit very peacefully and let his thoughts go free. A little after 9 we go to the changing room. This is also very funny; the bag with shirts, shorts and socks is sitting on the ground, so you have to bend over to get your stuff. For us this is the start of our warming up. Some guys are bit naughty and pinch your ass when u bend over but as long it’s part of warming up then everything is allowed. After a while every body is quiet again and gets dressed, although some guys are busier dressing their neighbours than themselves but ok.

Suddenly the door of the changing room opens and Coaches 1 & 2 come in, and welcome us with the famous words: “Good morning assholes! Listen and keep your mouths shut while Coach 2 tells you who’s going to play today.” We even don’t have time to say good morning because Coach 2 continues, and we all know with what sentence he will start coz it’s always the same: “It was not easy to make the list of who’s gonna play, but I have succeeded again”. When we look around in the room and see only 11 healthy players, we ask ourselves why it would be so difficult but ok, Coach 2 can look very strict. Most of time when he tells us who is playing we already start talking to our teammates and Coach 2 soon leaves the room looking a bit pissed off. All the authority he has at home is gone 2 minutes after being with us. Sometimes it creates problems because when we are standing on the field, you can sometimes hear one guy saying; “oh shit, you are also playing today?”

Almost every time when Coach 2 is busy telling us who’s playing, I ask him: “How’s your wife, did you two have a nice time last night?” Then Coach 2 forgets what he wanted to say and looks really angrily at me which is a bit frightening.

Recently a linesman joined our team, don’t ask us why but we live in a free world. One thing is for sure, the guy must have a nice wife. The linesman comes in with his little bag and starts changing his clothes. We can hardly believe it but everything he takes out has been ironed, yes we are all surprised and sometimes we also think that she even irons his dirty underwear but we can’t prove that. We see a crease in his dirty underwear but we don’t dare to come to close to it.

Our warming up is a bit different than normal, because usually you go and run but we discovered that putting some ointment on our legs also helps and give us more time to rest. RED HOT is the name of the cream, just put it on your legs, put some water on it and it feels like your legs are on fire. Some guys forget to put the water on and when they take a shower after the game their legs start burning, this is why they are not 100% during the game. There are even some guys who put the cream on other places of their body, but then I think: guys this is not necessary for the game, right?

Sometimes, just after Coach 2 has told us who is playing, Coach Half comes in. He is a very serious guy and starts immediately with who is gonna play. We look at him bit strangely, coz we just heart from Coach 2 who will play, so we think “miscommunication” but Coach Half continues his talk. It seems that Coach 1 has given him the old list with names on it, hilarity all over and Coach Half decides to leave us and go to the canteen for a cup of coffee.
In the meantime we try to get ready for another exciting game. Coach 1 also changes his clothes; it looks like he will be the referee. Dear readers don’t think that because he is the referee it’s easier for us to win, not at all. Sometimes we really think he doesn’t love us anymore. It looks like we only make the violations on the field. But we are still proud when we see Coach 1 in his cute referee outfit hop over the field, like a young deer.
Coach 2 was our lines man but due to unclear reasons he was replaced to the new linesman. It is maybe nice to tell you that, before the new linesman was with us, Coach 2 was a very serious linesman, at least for the first 10 minutes. Most of time we survived these 10 minutes, despite some mistakes from the linesman, we even accepted that he didn’t see offside because it happened more then 20 metres from him. But it’s funny to see him with his flag, it gives us a comforting feeling to look at the side line and see the corner flag up and his flag down. Yes, it’s normal to us and we are used to it, or at some of us. But when, after 10 minutes, the linesman’s grandson comes to see his grandfather, and we look again to the sideline, we only see the corner flag in right position. Our linesman is gone, why?? Because he is playing with his grandson, really nice for the cute little guy but not so nice for us.

Nevertheless our team does exactly what it says, yes sometimes too exactly. Because when our keeper shouts, “leave the ball” when our opponents take a corner and the ball comes in the penalty area, every defender knows DON’T TOUCH THE BALL, but sometimes also our keeper thinks that and that means our opponents score a goal. But ok he said leave the ball and he was right, he also left it alone, F*CK!
You can read on the face of some of my mates; why we don’t have 2 keepers, because competition is a good thing? But to be honest, he has saved us a lot because he is a good keeper although we as defenders have also saved him a lot. Our midfield is the heart of the team, it’s just a pity they don’t know it themselves. But lucky us we have Coach 2. When he sees the game going badly he jumps of his chair and shouts, sorry I can’t write down which words he uses. A little ashamed, we all go on with the game. Our midfielders are awakened by those words and also Coach 2. Really now and then I think that our referee has to laugh a lot when Coach 2 shouts those dirty words to us but maybe I am wrong.

...to be continued next time!

Flash and Jab

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.............yes you're probably all sick of hearing about the record snow falls in Europe. Airports are closed, roads are treacherously slippery, old people dare not venture out of doors. The Dutch are even pushing their bikes rather than riding them, which is a sign that it's REALLY serious.

It's also the season for 'flu of course, and the BBC reported this week that there is concern among the Powers That Be that too few people are getting vaccinated. Apparently the numbers are 10% lower than last year and with three different influenza viruses doing the rounds at the moment - including Swine Flu - higher numbers of people will inevitably get sick and/or die. Ironically the fact that the Swine Flu vaccine is included in this year's cocktail is being blamed for putting people off getting vaccinted. To me that kind of logic is right up there with deciding to start farming rats during a plague epidemic, but then common sense rarely seems to have much influence on what the massess do.

I'm feeling particularly smug, as you may have noticed, because this is the first winter that I have chosen to be vaccinated. I'm not in a high risk group but last year I had pneumonia twice, which was a truly miserable experience, and when I get a bad cold I tend to get bronchitis so I thought sod it, if there's a chance any sickness I get will be less severe, then I'm grabbing that with both hands.

My GP dutifully wrote a prescription and I collected my vaccine from the chemist after handing over about 30 euros. At this point I was supposed to arrange to go back to my GP so he could adminster the shot but I thought "to hell with that, hubby disappears every year or so for his flash offshore medical training, now's my chance to finally get some benefit from that". If he can set bones, stitch up gushing wounds and insert IV lines, he can certainly give me a tiny shot. So I popped the vaccine in the fridge and informed him that when he arrived home from sea the next day he had a job to do. And that I had a surprise for him in the fridge, haha.

Strangely enough, he wasn't particularly thrilled about the prospect of sticking a needle in my arm. I've administered shots to rabbits a few times and while it's not one of my famourite things it's not a big deal and my upper arm is a lot easier to hit than a squirming bunny. When the time came I swabbed the site, handed him the syringe (having checked the dose etc) and told him to go for it. Five second later it was all over, and no-one was passed out on the floor. He was obviously more relieved it was over than I, and admitted "I couldn't do that to one of the kids".

Gee thanks, nice to know where I come in the pecking order!

Shhhhhh.....

Tonight I was getting Niels into bed, with Carl already snuggled up warm in his room next door. I moved to the window to pull the curtains and "Ooohh!!!" Outside, as quiet as darkness itself, snow had started to fall. Big fat flakes the size of potato chips tumbled out of the night sky, illuminiated by the glow of street lights as they settled then quickly melted on the cobblestones.

I called Carl and he joined us, pink and warm and with eyes heavy with almost-sleep. As the three of us looked out at the falling snow the boys were silent, speechless in surprise at this unexpected white visitor. When they finally started speaking again it was in a whisper, as if talking loudly would disturb the magic and it would stop.

Winter has arrived.

Take That!

Last night I was tucking Carl into bed at the end of another long day. His light was out, the room dimly lit by the illuminated globe on the bookshelf which casts a bluish glow over the room. We were lying on the bed, heads on pillow having our usual goodnight chat; who did you play with at school, what's Sinter Klaas going to give you this year, why he's not allowed to drink three glasses of water before bed, etc.
Sliding my face closer to his, I laid my hand like a roof over the space between our heads and whispered "look, when I flutter my fingers like this it looks just like lightening." He lay completely still, spell-bound by the flicking blueish light as I quickly raised then lowered my hand. Then he wanted a turn.
"Look Mum, I can make the lightening too" he whispered, gently lifting and lowering his hand.

"And...HERE COME THE THUNDER!" he cried and SLAPPED the side of my head!!!

People Are Awesome...And Then Some!

This is the MOST amazing video you'll see for a long, long, time. Granted, I wouldn't actually actually do any of these things myself, but it makes you feel cool at being part of the human race just to see what poeple are capable of.

Now It's MINE!

The other day the kids were happily messing about outside and, as usual, didn't bother to put away their toys when they finished as it was starting to get dark. Next time I looked out the window, look who had claimed the mini wheelbarrow as hers!