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Quick Update on the Temperament Test

I had no idea what The Personality Test post would result in. I received results of the test from friends by phone, email or on facebook. Worse than that was the fact that I started psycho-analysing everyone I came across. Someone on facebook had posted a cute picture of her daughter and one of the commenters couldn’t simply say ‘aw, sweet‘ like everyone else did. She had to add; ”my daughter does that too, a lot!”. I immediately recognised it as typical sanguine behaviour. The need to steal any limelight that isn’t shining brightly on her. I had to resist the urge to comment after her; “madam, you have your own wall, go there to boast about your daughter!” And no, I don’t know her.

Suzy and I were holding a normal conversation and without realising I started to analyse the people she was talking about. ”She must be a melancholic”, said Toks. “She can’t help being moody”.

I forced, told  suggested to my staff to take the temperament test too. Now I realise that although she’s a sanguine like me, I’m the one who instigates all the chatting in the office. Not her.

Clearly I need help.

Justjoxy (aka Dynamite) also did the temperament test and found out she has painstakingly surrounded herself with fellow cholerics. Sanguines, Phlegs or Melancholics need not apply. That means I am really chuffed that she couldn’t resist having me, a mere sanguine as her friend!

Remember I had asked for help in naming my new blog? Now I request your help in naming my new personality. I thought about taking all the fine points of all four temperaments and creating an alter ego but I don’t know if that’ll work, I might forget which trait I’m trying to exhibit on a particular post. I have a habit or a rule of not using my real date of birth. Besides my passport, driver’s license and birth cert, I see no earthly reason why any organisation should have it. I’m talking about utility companies and the likes. When I opened a mobile phone account 2 years ago, I gave a fake date. Unfortunately that was before I decided to stick to one  fake date of birth. So when I was moving house and needed to verify my account, 3 dates later and I couldn’t remember my ‘D.O.B’. The customer service rep turned on me saying ‘you don’t know your own date of birth?’ I could have slapped her! If there’s a way I can present multiple personalities without coming across as having a personality disorder, please share.

Remember my wedding videographer I mentioned in the last post? Well I called him and he assures me he really still has my video- that should be DVD by now. We had a good chat and I want him to refer some business to me.  He wants me to add him as a friend on facebook. Trouble is I have already tattled about him on Pawpaw & Mango (note: previous post only!) and I shamelessly pedal the blog up and down on my facebook wall. Please send in your suggestions on how to get out of this pickle. It gets worse. I have become bolder and now accept friend requests from acquaintances especially if we can mutually benefit each other, or we have common interests. This means I can no longer write posts brazenly. They might conclude I need psychological assistance if I share some more on how I raise my boys. They might stalk me if they feel I’m writing about them.

I shared a post on InspireMe on how blessed I am. This week has been phenomenal as God revealed to me how blessed I was with very good friends. My friends are all dynamic in their own way and invest in me too. Just the knowledge alone gave me such joy. Now I really have to do that post on friendship I have bragged about for the last two years. I’ll do it. Next time.

Nothing more to report, have a blessed week!

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The Toddler Insists on Growing Up. I Refuse to Let Him.

My little Josh started school an hour ago. its not like he hasn’t been to ‘school’ before, after all he was in pre-school. Does that count? No? Ok.

He looked so cute, determined and excited as I dropped him off, wondering if his school will take me in as a substitute teacher for one day only.

The day started with me waking him up and asking if he remembers what he’ll be doing today.

He answered;  ‘sleeping. I want to sleep some more‘ and he promptly nodded off to sleep again.
Finally we get him all dressed with me fussing over him the whole time. I ask if he is excited about school, he replies quizzically,

‘Why?’

You see this child has inherited his some father’s cynicism and I keep forgetting that. It wasn’t like this with my sweet son #3, he cuddled me and shared the same emotions I had- which went from extreme calm to anxiety nervosa.

We try to take some pictures. He keeps jumping off right before the flash goes thereby rendering my resolve rewrite history, useless. I  need to have every memory recorded because now I know I’ll forget like I’ve forgotten a lot that happened with his brothers.

On our way to school I tell him how proud I am of him.  Again he asks why, this time with a real desire to know. I explain that he is such a good, clever and handsome boy. I tell him how proud I am to be his mama. At this he smiles his charming smile. I push back the tears I feel welling up.

When we arrive he runs ahead happily, promptly stops and asks me to pick him up, he is tired of running. I worry that this carrying thing won’t last for long. I stop worrying and choose to enjoy the moment instead.

We arrive and go to meet his teachers, they are warm, friendly and appear to like my Josh already. I notice that I’ve managed to smear his white shirt with my make-up. I don’t care, I hope my love and my smell got smeared on too and will remain with him until I pick him up at 3:20pm.

While we wait in the presence of other mummies, many of them visibly nervous, I ask him if he’ll make new friends.

‘Yes mum, and if anyone punches me I punch them right back’.

‘ Punch them right back’  is accompanied by a forceful swing with his fist, I think it’s called the uppercut in boxing.

I watch my potential rep as a perfect mum disappear quietly down the proverbial drain. You know how there’s always one mum who annoyingly stands out from the rest of us as perfect. She is NEVER late for the school run. When you’re late she just has to ask;

‘Did you over-sleep?’

You reply defensively but with just the right amount of dignity;

‘No I didn’t, but I had to scrape the ice from my windscreen’

She replies in a sing-song, high-pitched voice;

‘You should have allowed time for that!’ Her response is finished off with a small laugh and a cursory wave of her left hand. Not just a laugh, but the laugh that is er…’at you’.

She buys mainly organic veggies from the grocery store and plants her own herbs and tomatoes. Oh and she makes her own ice-cream in the summer. She has on brown cords, knee-high boots and a tweed blazer over her cream coloured, floral top.

Sorry I digress, another post.

I sprint back to the car, partly for exercise (still trying to get past 3 mins of exercise daily. The plan was to start small and build it up. The problem is not the starting.  Another blog post, another time.) I remember the last time I sprinted to the car after dropping of a certain son on his first day. I was sprinting from a myriad of emotions, glee, liberation, thankfulness. I didnt want to waste a second of my new-found freedom. That child shall of course remain nameless.

My advice to mums who have found themselves an emotional wreck on first day at school? Remember that a new experience prepares them for all things life has to offer. They’ll enjoy the exhilaration of new friends, new routines and new toys. It works for me every time. Except today.

Off I go to vent those tears, they’re becoming rather annoying!

The insanity test

Dear Rosemary,

It is 8:43am. I very nearly forgot that I need to pick child #3 up from his sleepover at your house.

You see it has been a blissful week. Child #2 went on a school camping trip on Monday and only returned yesterday, Friday. Five days with 3 children has had hubby and I wondering what life would have been if we stopped at 3. Of course we love all our sons equally and life would have been lacking a ‘certain something’ if we had just 3, but boy!  People ask me how I ‘do it with 4 boys‘, ‘boys’ is always emphasized. They think I’m superwoman. Or suffering from madness. Or both. Those who tend to accord me these laurels usually have one or two children and naturally find things very hectic already. My response is always the same. “When you have 3 children, adding 1, 2 or 3 more really makes no difference, so please leave them, I’ll be more than fine”,  I respond dismissively. The other mum will then look at me in awe, no doubt wishing she had my powers. Or mental condition. Or indeed both.

Well all that has now been proven to be inaccurate.  In the last one week, the scales have had a recalibration. Stress levels, down. Shouting frequency, down. Accidents, greatly reduced. Even whining is on the low.  On occasion hubby and I find ourselves calling one or all of the remaining  3 just to see if they are still in the house. Yes it is that blissful. This serenity isn’t being enjoyed across the board, i.e  in other homes that have one less child I mean. While the parents waited outside the coach seeing their children off, there were tears, lots of them. I didn’t see ours off, hubby did. He saw some mothers crying hysterically. Some trying to console their friends, all were about to suffer the same demise for a week. Hubby was baffled. In our house when one child goes away for a short period, we don’t cry, we laugh.

So Friday came and child #3 was off to his sleepover at your house- as you know right after school. We even had the privilege of a 1 hour window with just 2 children as #2 didn’t get back home until 4:30pm. Consequently we were granted an extra night as parents to 3 boys.

Clearly I am getting used to this. I love my sons and love them being around me. But are you sure you said one night and not two? Just asking. Sometimes I do get my dates muddled up.

Thanks so much for keeping our Zack, I would love to return the favour someday but you’ve pretty much just told me that I’m not superwoman. And that I’m mentally stable. I can’t promise anything, but er, ‘we’ll see’.

Yours most thankfully & worrying-about-life-going-back-to-normal-ly,

Toks

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