Tomorrow I am going to Palmy for the funeral of a friend’s mother. It is incredibly heart breaking on many levels. The lovely lady was a mere 74 years old. But more than that it signifies another death that marks the end of an era for me. I know this makes it my very selfish perspective. The loss of people from my parents’ generation threatens to shake the foundations upon which I have been standing for many years. They were always ‘there’ bearing witness to all our significant events – High school, university, relationship angst, going on the ‘Big OE’, marriage, children etc. Yep, while we gallivanted around in our leisurely and indulgent transition from ‘innocence’ to ‘experience’ they were there lurking in the background ready to rejoice with us, commiserate with us and provide financial and emotional support. At times we were a source of boasting. A kind of boasting one-upmanship. I remember at one stage my Father would hate being collared by a colleague in a ‘what’s your daughter up to now’ face off. I would provide him with any necessary ammunition and dirt so that he could have that as a reserve should he need to bring the Arsehole down to size. I was at that time working in a backpackers in Amsterdam! Poor old Dad didn't have a fucking onderstel to stand on! But mostly I was in a position and place worthy of a good old bloody boast.
Anyway, I digress. The point is that my Dad and these other people were all still there. Still alive, still in Palmerston North, still waking and facing each day, still interested in our lives and now some of them have gone. Forever! For fucking ever! Gone. Incomprehensible. I want to get stroppy and stamp my foot! These people cannot leave us to be the next generation. The top of the pile. The responsible ones. Fuck, I am not ready to be the grown up one, the middle aged one, the upper echelon of the family. The hoofd person, dank u cunting well! But I must grow up and I think I have a lot since my father left us. I notice here that even the language I use is slanted…’left us’ ffs he would never have ‘left us’, he didn't have a fucking choice.
So I am going to mourn the loss of a wonderful woman who was loving, kind, gentle and possessed just a nip of naughtiness. She will be sorely missed. I am also going to mourn the loss of someone who was significant in the shaping of my formative years. I will also be mourning the end of an era. That niggling inching, shifting and shuffling into the unwanted territory- a new era! It feels like an error, it can’t be happening yet I am powerless against its force. I cannot stop it. I am a mere drop of water to its oceanic like force. The only constant is change and all that bullshit.
Now is the time to transition into the new era. To place two feet firmly in Era Nouvelle. To find a way to move forward retaining the important things from the past and people passed. A part of these people live on in our lives and in the lives of any further generations. My son, who met my Dad as a baby, exhibits a lot of ‘Thomson’ characteristics. They have come from my Dad, to me and in turn to my son. It is a living legacy and brings so much comfort and delight to see elements of your father in your son.
So I am going to celebrate a life that was well lived and one that enriched the lives of all those she met. But I plan to have my hoof and my sights planted in and set on the future. I will grow up just a wee bit more with this. Who knows, I may even get down to the Celtic for a wee precious pint of the past and a nostalgic nod to the future. Kia kaha.
#death #parentsdying #endofanera
Thursday, 29 January 2015
Sunday, 18 January 2015
Sol part 2
My first post wasn't actually a blog post, like I said, it was for a school project asking the parents to write to the child at age 21.
What I really wanted to write about was a post 'inspired' by some nauseating posts I have seen on Facebook that go something like this......
Happy Birthday to my beautiful Cuntface. You brought so much love and joy into the world and continue to light our cunting days with glittering fucking light. You are our pride and joy and God (Lord help us all) gifted you to us to care for and fucking well nurture!
I think you get the picture :-) We've all seen updates like this and of course the intention is lovely BUT to me (as a mother) there is a whole other, dark, scary, unspoken and honest side to this business of parenting. I will paint it now. I will include the good bits too.
Happy birthday to my dear (A) Sol. You bring so much fun, quirky humour and armpit farts into our lives. I love you dearly of course but this parenting malarkey can be incredibly challenging. You are fiercely loyal to your family, an admirable
quality in someone so young. (Some of the arseholes you defend don't always deserve it mind you) You are kind, funny and quirky. You are also stubborn and competitive. Playing games with you fills me with dread as you can't cope when you lose and seem to get high when you win. Just this morning playing snakes and ladders was like walking on a tightrope for me. 'Deal with the bloody snakes!' There will be more snakes in life than cunting ladders so handle it. You were amused by the tough pooh response you got.
As a mother sometimes the worry I feel for your safety threatens to drown me as it comes at me like a wave. This fear comes and goes but one thing I am convinced of is that it will remain with me for the rest of my life. No one warns you of the overwhelming sense of responsibility that comes with this role. Fuck the sleepless nights, they are a walk in the park compared to this.
When you asked about death as a boy in your class had lost his father my heart almost broke. You asked about Granda and told me he is in your heart and you can feel him cos he kicks it. When you said you didn't want to die I wanted to wrap you up in cotton wool and not leave the house for a week. I realise this is my character and not all people would feel to the depth that I do, we are all different after all. You do show that you are an old soul/Sol at times like this.
You really know how to keep pushing to the point sometimes where I will yell, thump the table and shake with anger. You need to start picking up on the non verbal cues to avoid this. You drive me to drink at times (I'll hang this one on you for now) and it's hard work having to drink every bloody day some weeks :-)
You sometimes put me in awkward positions like when you refused to eat Granny's carrots stating that they were melted. I knew I would be in the dog box if I laughed but you had a point. The cooking of the veges to a point beyond recognition is familiar from my upbringing.
You have also put me in a position that I never dreamed of being in....that of a 'Soccer Mum'. I loved watching you play touch rugby, was passionately responsive on the sideline and hated to miss a single game. Wow!
Your relationship with your cousin James is a delight to witness. It's such a primal interaction that makes me think of two bear cubs, pawing each other and cuddling and jostling each other. Now in turn William is like that with you. He loves to touch your skin and blow raspberries on your tummy. Then he cracks up, just like his Dad. He reaches for you and bites and kisses you all the time. Amazing to see this instinct.
You are a joy but man you can be a pain in the bum too! Endless wittering, arguing back to counter the other stuff. Your curious mind is a wonder to behold. I love that you think I know everything..hee hee! Trust me I know fuck all really. But I do know I wouldn't be without you in my life. you are a blessing and you are blessed to be part of such a diverse family. Pakistani, Scottish, English, Kiwi, Chinese, gay, straight, married, divorced. Be warned though that there are a lot of strong women on both sides. What a privilege to have fantastic role models with all the people in your family!
I will leave you with the photo of your student led teacher interviews. I was presented with this book to comment on and the first page said 'I can cunt' I know it was meant to say count but I would like to think it was in response to 'can you count in fives to 100?'
Love you Chickpea, Chicky, hearts, Sol, K-hole xxx
What I really wanted to write about was a post 'inspired' by some nauseating posts I have seen on Facebook that go something like this......
Happy Birthday to my beautiful Cuntface. You brought so much love and joy into the world and continue to light our cunting days with glittering fucking light. You are our pride and joy and God (Lord help us all) gifted you to us to care for and fucking well nurture!
I think you get the picture :-) We've all seen updates like this and of course the intention is lovely BUT to me (as a mother) there is a whole other, dark, scary, unspoken and honest side to this business of parenting. I will paint it now. I will include the good bits too.
Happy birthday to my dear (A) Sol. You bring so much fun, quirky humour and armpit farts into our lives. I love you dearly of course but this parenting malarkey can be incredibly challenging. You are fiercely loyal to your family, an admirable
As a mother sometimes the worry I feel for your safety threatens to drown me as it comes at me like a wave. This fear comes and goes but one thing I am convinced of is that it will remain with me for the rest of my life. No one warns you of the overwhelming sense of responsibility that comes with this role. Fuck the sleepless nights, they are a walk in the park compared to this.
When you asked about death as a boy in your class had lost his father my heart almost broke. You asked about Granda and told me he is in your heart and you can feel him cos he kicks it. When you said you didn't want to die I wanted to wrap you up in cotton wool and not leave the house for a week. I realise this is my character and not all people would feel to the depth that I do, we are all different after all. You do show that you are an old soul/Sol at times like this.
You really know how to keep pushing to the point sometimes where I will yell, thump the table and shake with anger. You need to start picking up on the non verbal cues to avoid this. You drive me to drink at times (I'll hang this one on you for now) and it's hard work having to drink every bloody day some weeks :-)
You sometimes put me in awkward positions like when you refused to eat Granny's carrots stating that they were melted. I knew I would be in the dog box if I laughed but you had a point. The cooking of the veges to a point beyond recognition is familiar from my upbringing.
You have also put me in a position that I never dreamed of being in....that of a 'Soccer Mum'. I loved watching you play touch rugby, was passionately responsive on the sideline and hated to miss a single game. Wow!
Your relationship with your cousin James is a delight to witness. It's such a primal interaction that makes me think of two bear cubs, pawing each other and cuddling and jostling each other. Now in turn William is like that with you. He loves to touch your skin and blow raspberries on your tummy. Then he cracks up, just like his Dad. He reaches for you and bites and kisses you all the time. Amazing to see this instinct.
You are a joy but man you can be a pain in the bum too! Endless wittering, arguing back to counter the other stuff. Your curious mind is a wonder to behold. I love that you think I know everything..hee hee! Trust me I know fuck all really. But I do know I wouldn't be without you in my life. you are a blessing and you are blessed to be part of such a diverse family. Pakistani, Scottish, English, Kiwi, Chinese, gay, straight, married, divorced. Be warned though that there are a lot of strong women on both sides. What a privilege to have fantastic role models with all the people in your family!
I will leave you with the photo of your student led teacher interviews. I was presented with this book to comment on and the first page said 'I can cunt' I know it was meant to say count but I would like to think it was in response to 'can you count in fives to 100?'
Love you Chickpea, Chicky, hearts, Sol, K-hole xxx
Saturday, 17 January 2015
Chickpea
I am starting my first ever blog with a 'time capsule letter' that I wrote for a school project. Sol is to open when it when he turns 21! (YEAH RIGHT)
Dear Sol,
Congratulations on turning 21! I am sure by now the giving of a mirror in the shape of a key and the yard glass are traditions of the past.
So instead I will give you a reflection on the past and some advice for the future. It is free and up to what you do with it.
Let’s start at the beginning. As you know, you were born on December 4 2007 at 4.50pm, making your appearance just before the end of a typical working day. Very civilized. You were due on December the 20th but decided to grace us with your appearance earlier. Having gotten to know you over the past 7 years this is very much in line with your character. You are a very keen, sometimes impatient little boy. You are very enthusiastic about life and like to get stuck into things. Your tenacity is unlike anything I have ever seen in another living person. I hope this unique quality serves you well one day! Who knows, maybe it already is. You were a very much wanted and longed for baby. The mixture of delight and worry of the news of a Christmas baby is still very fresh. We followed your progress and by about week 9 or so the book said you were the size of a chickpea. Your father latched onto that and a nickname was born. Are we still calling you that? I very much doubt. Having said that, it is a very Thomson behaviour to nickname people.
Due to the result of some screening tests I had an amniocentesis. We were offered the opportunity of finding out your gender. We were very surprised that you were a boy and over the moon. We made a short list of names: Otto, Barnaby, Milo and Solomon. You will probably be laughing at them (as I am now in hindsight). When we saw your sweet face we knew you were definitely not an Otto or Barnaby. We took the risk of giving you both Grandfathers names as middle names. Your Dada protested but he was just feeling very humbled that we used his name. It also turns out that your name has a Muslim equivalent Suleman, which your Dada calls you with pride. Even your Granda Thomson would call you Suleman. He also delighted in saying your full name over and over emphasising the Naseem.
You were only 2 months old when we got a call saying that Granda wasn't well. He asked me and your two Aunties to come back from the UK. You were amazing on the long haul flight and lots of random people commented on how good you were. We arrived in Palmerston North airport and Granny and Uncle Campbell took us straight up to the hospital. Granda held you on his lap and kept saying ‘Chickpea, chickpea’. It was lovely to see the joy in his face. I, in the meantime almost passed out from shock and jet lag on the chair next to the bed. We stayed for over 6 weeks that first visit. Granda would come in and pick you up from the travel cot and take you to his bed. He put on his wee radio and lay you on the bed and chatted to you. We have video footage. You will have seen the curry madras episode!
You were a great sleeper, we never had any problems with you as a baby. But the worm turned around about 2 years old. Your character was really developing. You liked to entertain us with your recounts of various audio books. My favourite was ‘Pooh is that you Bertie’ complete with the Yorkshire Granny accent.
Your tenacity got stronger and I often likened you to a dog with a bone. You never gave up and had such a sharp memory so we couldn't count on that to distract you from your mission. At the time of writing this you want the following things:
Earrings, a motorbike, a dog. You also want to be ‘an earring gunner’ (your words) when you grow up. I ask myself how I created such a bogan .
You are kind and caring, extremely passionate and doggedly loyal to your family. You won’t hear a bad word said about anyone in your family. Even one time I jokingly said William was a pain you were on me like a tonne of bricks. What an amazing quality for one so young. I am sure you are still like it now.
You promised me you would always want to cuddle me. I reassured you that there would be a time when you wouldn't be cool with that. You are already starting to show signs of ‘don’t be embarrassing Mum’ and you are only 6. You turn 7 this week and you’re a box of birds with excitement.
I know it’s a cliche but I really don’t mind what you do as long as you’re happy. Having said that an earring gunner may be a bit of a non-starter. What a huge burden of a wish to put on your child…to want them to be happy! I realise this is massive and there will be dark and light times in your life. Just remember that the contrast is necessary. It can be summed up nicely by a quote I like ‘the art of life is using the shadows to emphasise the highlights’ Try and live by this when the dark creeps in and remember it is not there to stay.
Seize the day! Enjoy being young. Be brave (I wanna see you be brave by Sara Bareilles btw is currently your favourite song) and follow your passions. Be confident in yourself and don’t let fear hold you back. Open yourself up to new experiences. This is the way you learn and grow. Don’t beat yourself up for your mistakes (refer to last sentence). I do worry you will as you already get very cross if you make a mistake. I hope you've gotten over this at age 21. Maintain your loyalty to family, your ties to your cousins James, William and Sarah’s baby (due next month) will be very important to you in years to come.
Have fun but please be safe. If you become a parent one day you will understand that you never stop worrying about your children.
Fall in love, experience heartbreak and feel these things with all your being. Choose wisely who you give your heart to in the end. Don’t bring any girls (or boys) home that have crap, chavy names please.
I don’t expect to live vicariously through you so don’t worry. I’ll be proud of you no matter what. I love watching you play touch rugby and I have never, ever been a rugby fan of any description. I’m behind you all the way.
Most of all remember you are loved. Your dear Granda loved you so much. Treasure all the gifts he gave you when you were a baby. You take Granny’s breath away all the time. She thinks you are an ‘old soul’ or more likely now an old Sol . Embrace your Pakistani heritage and learn all you can about your origins. Your Dada loves his Petru. You are Nana's little treasure and even though you’re not little now you will always be that in her eyes. No doubt you will be towering over Aunty Sarah by now. Appreciate and learn from her how to be strong and driven and please try not to swear, fart or burp around her. She really is not amused (but I am ). You have such a close bond with your cousin James. Appreciate his gentle nature. Learn too from Aunty Moggy that hard work and determination to reach your goals are worth it. Enjoy her skiing.
Your Aunty Nance loves you to bits. Enjoy her uniqueness an me heartiness.
Appreciate Uncle Campbell being one of the few males in your life. Go fishing, drink beer and do farts! All good with him. Aunty Saijia has taught you a lot and has been so loving and tolerant. Your bond with William is lovely to see. Please don't teach him any bad habits, his Father will do that without your help
Dad and I love you so much and you have been the source of much joy (and worry). We will enjoy celebrating your milestones and will always be in your heart.
Love Mum xxx
Dear Sol,
Congratulations on turning 21! I am sure by now the giving of a mirror in the shape of a key and the yard glass are traditions of the past.
So instead I will give you a reflection on the past and some advice for the future. It is free and up to what you do with it.
Let’s start at the beginning. As you know, you were born on December 4 2007 at 4.50pm, making your appearance just before the end of a typical working day. Very civilized. You were due on December the 20th but decided to grace us with your appearance earlier. Having gotten to know you over the past 7 years this is very much in line with your character. You are a very keen, sometimes impatient little boy. You are very enthusiastic about life and like to get stuck into things. Your tenacity is unlike anything I have ever seen in another living person. I hope this unique quality serves you well one day! Who knows, maybe it already is. You were a very much wanted and longed for baby. The mixture of delight and worry of the news of a Christmas baby is still very fresh. We followed your progress and by about week 9 or so the book said you were the size of a chickpea. Your father latched onto that and a nickname was born. Are we still calling you that? I very much doubt. Having said that, it is a very Thomson behaviour to nickname people.
Due to the result of some screening tests I had an amniocentesis. We were offered the opportunity of finding out your gender. We were very surprised that you were a boy and over the moon. We made a short list of names: Otto, Barnaby, Milo and Solomon. You will probably be laughing at them (as I am now in hindsight). When we saw your sweet face we knew you were definitely not an Otto or Barnaby. We took the risk of giving you both Grandfathers names as middle names. Your Dada protested but he was just feeling very humbled that we used his name. It also turns out that your name has a Muslim equivalent Suleman, which your Dada calls you with pride. Even your Granda Thomson would call you Suleman. He also delighted in saying your full name over and over emphasising the Naseem.
You were only 2 months old when we got a call saying that Granda wasn't well. He asked me and your two Aunties to come back from the UK. You were amazing on the long haul flight and lots of random people commented on how good you were. We arrived in Palmerston North airport and Granny and Uncle Campbell took us straight up to the hospital. Granda held you on his lap and kept saying ‘Chickpea, chickpea’. It was lovely to see the joy in his face. I, in the meantime almost passed out from shock and jet lag on the chair next to the bed. We stayed for over 6 weeks that first visit. Granda would come in and pick you up from the travel cot and take you to his bed. He put on his wee radio and lay you on the bed and chatted to you. We have video footage. You will have seen the curry madras episode!
You were a great sleeper, we never had any problems with you as a baby. But the worm turned around about 2 years old. Your character was really developing. You liked to entertain us with your recounts of various audio books. My favourite was ‘Pooh is that you Bertie’ complete with the Yorkshire Granny accent.
Your tenacity got stronger and I often likened you to a dog with a bone. You never gave up and had such a sharp memory so we couldn't count on that to distract you from your mission. At the time of writing this you want the following things:
Earrings, a motorbike, a dog. You also want to be ‘an earring gunner’ (your words) when you grow up. I ask myself how I created such a bogan .
You are kind and caring, extremely passionate and doggedly loyal to your family. You won’t hear a bad word said about anyone in your family. Even one time I jokingly said William was a pain you were on me like a tonne of bricks. What an amazing quality for one so young. I am sure you are still like it now.
You promised me you would always want to cuddle me. I reassured you that there would be a time when you wouldn't be cool with that. You are already starting to show signs of ‘don’t be embarrassing Mum’ and you are only 6. You turn 7 this week and you’re a box of birds with excitement.
I know it’s a cliche but I really don’t mind what you do as long as you’re happy. Having said that an earring gunner may be a bit of a non-starter. What a huge burden of a wish to put on your child…to want them to be happy! I realise this is massive and there will be dark and light times in your life. Just remember that the contrast is necessary. It can be summed up nicely by a quote I like ‘the art of life is using the shadows to emphasise the highlights’ Try and live by this when the dark creeps in and remember it is not there to stay.
Seize the day! Enjoy being young. Be brave (I wanna see you be brave by Sara Bareilles btw is currently your favourite song) and follow your passions. Be confident in yourself and don’t let fear hold you back. Open yourself up to new experiences. This is the way you learn and grow. Don’t beat yourself up for your mistakes (refer to last sentence). I do worry you will as you already get very cross if you make a mistake. I hope you've gotten over this at age 21. Maintain your loyalty to family, your ties to your cousins James, William and Sarah’s baby (due next month) will be very important to you in years to come.
Have fun but please be safe. If you become a parent one day you will understand that you never stop worrying about your children.
Fall in love, experience heartbreak and feel these things with all your being. Choose wisely who you give your heart to in the end. Don’t bring any girls (or boys) home that have crap, chavy names please.
I don’t expect to live vicariously through you so don’t worry. I’ll be proud of you no matter what. I love watching you play touch rugby and I have never, ever been a rugby fan of any description. I’m behind you all the way.
Most of all remember you are loved. Your dear Granda loved you so much. Treasure all the gifts he gave you when you were a baby. You take Granny’s breath away all the time. She thinks you are an ‘old soul’ or more likely now an old Sol . Embrace your Pakistani heritage and learn all you can about your origins. Your Dada loves his Petru. You are Nana's little treasure and even though you’re not little now you will always be that in her eyes. No doubt you will be towering over Aunty Sarah by now. Appreciate and learn from her how to be strong and driven and please try not to swear, fart or burp around her. She really is not amused (but I am ). You have such a close bond with your cousin James. Appreciate his gentle nature. Learn too from Aunty Moggy that hard work and determination to reach your goals are worth it. Enjoy her skiing.
Your Aunty Nance loves you to bits. Enjoy her uniqueness an me heartiness.
Appreciate Uncle Campbell being one of the few males in your life. Go fishing, drink beer and do farts! All good with him. Aunty Saijia has taught you a lot and has been so loving and tolerant. Your bond with William is lovely to see. Please don't teach him any bad habits, his Father will do that without your help
Dad and I love you so much and you have been the source of much joy (and worry). We will enjoy celebrating your milestones and will always be in your heart.
Love Mum xxx
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