I wish I was a Gentle Person

Photo of my son. It looks like he will become one of the Gentle People.Image

This is a real thought in my head. When I was growing up, I knew a Gentle Person. Actually, my own father is pretty close to being one himself. You may know one of these Gentle People. The type that will take ten minutes to make a proper, perfect cup of tea, rather than the insipid cup of milky water you are likely to get given in my house (apologies family and friends).

The type that (don’t read this if you are squeamish) fold, nay, IRON their clothes so that they are flat and sit level in their drawers. I am ashamed to say that my folding ability is lacklustre, to say the least. I have more of a rolling action with the washing. Bundling things into piles, then looking on furiously as the piles topple over at the merest provocation. The drawers in our house are a barely contained maelstrom, I actually sometimes have to kick the drawers shut, and once with my fingers enclosed trying to force in some stray bit of shirt or pant leg.

These gentle people are truly a joy to watch, even if sometimes you want to hurry them up. You want to scribble over the borders they have lovingly given their assignments, the ruled, squared off, triple checked documents they will inevitably hand in for marking. Gentle People excelled at bubble writing in primary school, they also always have neat tidy haircuts, and never the double crown/cowlick I grew up trying to reign in.

Ah, I wish I was a Gentle Person, instead of the weird juxtaposition that I actually am. Slightly perfectionist with a healthy dash of complete feral.

Aaaaand, here is a completely irrelevant photo of the hill behind our house.

It’s lovely.ImageAs is my wee daughter (most of the time.) Excuse the photo, it was dusk.IMG_2905Although, I suspect, like me, she will not be a gentle person, this makes her no less lovely.



Like plants, children also need water.

I never drink water. Oh, I try. All modern literature will extoll the virtues of downing something like 12 thousand of litres of water a day. I seem to gain enough water by merely existing. Perhaps I absorb it through particles of air? Or perhaps through all the coffee I consume? It is a mystery to me how I even still exist, and am not just a shrivelled dehydrated shell.

My children, on the other hand, surprise me daily with their quest to drink as much water as is possible in someone under 1m tall.

Seriously, I can NEVER leave the house without 2 water bottles (the boy is afraid of germs/sharing.)Image

Of course, with my inevitable lack of organisation, this means I spend the entire time scrounging around for enough coins to buy water bottles when out (gah, I hate paying for water.) Alternatively, I will be hissing at them to stop harping on at me about hydration, and just WAIT until we get home. Cruel? Nope, it’s just that I don’t understand it. How is it that two children from my lineage need so much liquid in a day? Me, the queen of Nil Hydration.

One of the great mysteries of the universe I guess.