So Close

The Fockers do payback time

If I think back to when I was a teenager, I want to cringe.  What we kids put our poor parents through. That awkward stage when you think you know everything, when you think you can do anything and yet you can't.  You want to travel the world on great adventures! You want to pack your bags, shake off all responsibilities and travel to foreign lands, far away from your family who are telling you to be sensible, to look after yourself and not take any chances.

Well my parents have clearly decided it is payback time and are going through a second teenagehood.  Much to my GREAT dismay!!!

As you know my parents (who are known as the Fockers) bought their RV van last year. Although I was very anti them ever leaving me getting the van, even I must admit it is stunning and I can see why they love going away in it. FOR A WEEK. Go away for a week to a sensible little caravan park an hour's drive away.  That is what you do when you are retired.

But not my irresponsible parents, oh no. They want to go to BOTSWANA! For THREE MONTHS!!  (I am actually banging the keys really hard as I type this).  It that not the HEIGHT of irresponsibility?? Botswana is FAR away and DANGEROUS.  Well, not really dangerous but VERY FAR AWAY.  And as for the three months thing, well why don't they just say they don't love me any more. FINE.

And that is not all.  I KNOW!!  It is bad enough as it is, but it gets worse! I can hardly bring myself to write this down.  My father (who is the BAD influence in the relationship) wants to go CAMPING while they are there, in the bush with just the 4x4 jeep and a two man tent.  I mean HAVE YOU EVER!  They are not 30 years old, they are GRANDPARENTS! They *think* they are capable, but they not as physically strong as they used to be. My dad had a heart attack, a stroke and open heart surgery less than a year ago.  Less than 18 months ago my mother had cancer, chemo and an operation to remove her bits. 

And seriously.... BOTSWANA??!!  What happens if a lion eats them?  What happens if the jeep gets stuck?  If someone murders them in their tent???????????  In the middle of the bloody jungle! SO FAR AWAY!

I am banging the keys really hard again.  My nerves are shot!  What ever happened to staying home listening to the radio and knitting sweaters for the grandkids?

What to do.  They are grown ups now and apparently do not listen to me any more.  Not that they ever did.  Height of irresponsibility, I tell you. 

(I do have a plan.  I am thinking of getting someone to follow them from a safe distance, just to keep an eye on them.  The person (already identified) will camp a short distance away so that if they run into trouble, he will be there to assist. So irresponsible!)

Toy guns

When Sister Mel had her first child 13 years ago, she was quite an ethno-bongo (tree-hugger / granola type).  She said that her son would not play with guns and there would be no toy guns in the house.  However, it wasn't long before he was fashioning make-believe guns out of old marijuana branches and shooting pow-pow at imaginary baddies. 

I have much lower standards and looser morals than my sister and the toy gun thing was never an issue for me.  I have never specifically gone out to buy toy guns for my kids, but along with pirate masks and eye patches, they have also chosen toy guns and pirate swords.  And it doesn't worry me at all.  Admittedly I have not studied in detail any studies that say playing with guns at five years old increases the propensity to become a serial murder in later life, but my gut says that banning toy guns in my house will not help much if that is his eventual career choice. I would prefer he becomes a plastic surgeon or something useful like that but as parents we must be careful not to force our own aspirations on our child.  (Dear Adam, please don't become a serial killer, there is no money in that! Choose a nice profession like plastic surgeon or IT entrepreneur so that you can help mommy one day). I am not anti guns, and I am not pro guns. I don't feel strongly either way, but I know that some people do. (Some people feel strongly about EVERYTHING. I wish I had the time)

Adam came home from Mimi and Pops the other day with a REAL GUN! It was a pellet gun (I think you call them air guns/ air rifles) that used to belong to my brother when he was a teenager.  You shoot tin cans with them, I think.  It was empty of course, but Adam was BESIDES himself with excitement.  He is so thrilled with his 'weal gun', he sleeps next to it every night and carries it all around the house with him.  I am not mad about it, only because it looks so damn real.  He is not allowed to point it at people, but I've let him carry it around the house. 

My children started an annoying habit last year where they want to take something to school every day to show the rest of the kids. Something new / exciting etc.  It's annoying because they are not allowed to bring their own toys to school so I have to schlep it to the class, and then schlep it all home again. 

Anyway, Adam obviously wanted to take his 'weal gun' to school to show his friends and I had to tell him he couldn't because some moms don't like guns and would judge his mother for allowing him to play with a gun and then they will talk about me behind my back and label me etc.  Well, I just said that some moms don't like children to play with guns.  A conversation we have had to rehash a million times.  "But why don't some moms like it when their children play with guns?"  "Which moms?"  On and on.  Anyway, I've stood firm. The gun can come with in the car, but it can't come out.  The gun has travelled to and from school every day this week and last week.

Then, yesterday as I put them in the car after I went to fetch them, my phone rang.  I was standing next to the car with the door open chatting to whoever was on the phone.  Next thing, Adam is by the open door, proudly showing his gun to the other kids (and their moms), saying "LOOK, I GOT A WEAL GUN, AND IT HAS GONE WEAL BULLETS IN IT".  I couldn't get off that phone fast enough.  I giggled nervously and said in a falsetto voice "oh, haha, don't be silly Adam, its not a REAL gun and it certainly doesn't have REAL bullets in it, nowputitawayandgetinthecarimmediately".

OMG!  Now they are all going to hate me.  I saw the look the one mother gave me (only has girl children who clearly don't have weal guns with weal bullets in them).  Sigh.

I don't know.  I don't think it will do any harm for Adam to play with the gun but I am obviously not 100% convinced about it because otherwise I wouldn't be so anxious about other people seeing. 

I really don't think that playing with a toy gun is going to make him any more or any less violent.  In my gut, I don't feel this. I am not sure what it is about toy guns that upsets some mothers (and I am sure I am about to be enlightened why), but I am actually way WAY more concerned about violent computer games and TV programs where 'baddies' explode / have their heads chopped off / fighter planes shoot each other out the sky etc than I am about toy guns. 

How do you feel about toy guns? Do you let your boys & girls have toy guns in their toy box?  Is a water pistol in the pool allowed?  What about those squirting water tube things?  A sword?  Where do you draw the line?

An incident occurred in 1998

I got a note in my postbox today that is just.... words fail me. If you live in South Africa you must be saying WTF!! This must surely be a typo?   An 'incident' occurred in 1998??????  WTF!  An incident like this occurs every 19.98 SECONDS in South Africa!  Our security estate had an 'incident' in 1998! Those who don't live in South Africa won't appreciate how funny (in a sad way) this note is. 

Look, it's a terrible incident. A terrible story. But when you live in a country with one of the highest crime levels in the world and where things like this occur on a daily basis in certain areas of the country, this is just unreal.  It made me realize how very lucky I am that I am able to live in a security estate (busybody neighbours and all) that last had an 'incident' in 1998.

I have typed this post up so many times in so many different ways, but I can't quite capture what this note says about (my) life in South Africa. About living with crime. How lucky I am. How many others struggle.  It blows my mind.  Fellow South Africans, help me out here.  Help me explain why this note is just so unbelievable.