Erieversible

I had about five errands to run this afternoon.  I had to pick up a check for instance for the house closing tomorrow, and run to the Gas Company and prove that my husband exists.  Little things like that.  And, of course, the kids had to tag along as they are off school and I didn’t have a chance to make other arrangements.  (My cousin actually offered to take them off my hands, but then her mother called from the Emergency Room and she had other things to worry about!)

About half way through the errand list, the little one announced that she didn’t feel well.  And I felt her forehead and it was warm.  Not hot, but warmer than normal.  And I remembered that being a mother is hard work some times.  I don’t think she is really ill.  She has been fighting a cold for ages, but she doesn’t seem that bad.  But I worry.  It goes with the stretch marks. 

We had to finish the errands, otherwise we can’t close tomorrow and that raises a whole raft of other problems.  She was a brave little trouper about it all, but she was clearly not feeling her best.  Now we are home and she is on the couch with a blanket, a pillow, and a cuddly toy, watching Barbie and the Diamond Castle.  After a little while, she asked for some Cheerios, and she has actually eaten them, so I’m sure she isn’t doing too badly.  But it is hard not to worry.

Tomorrow morning I have to be up at the crack of dawn to drive to Buffalo for the house closing.  My mother is looking after the kids.  I trust her, really I do, but I wish I didn’t have to go.

We didn’t have any family nearby when we lived on the Isle of Man.  We did make some very good friends over the years, but most of them were in similar situations and many would head back to wherever they had come from for the holidays.  So our Christmas and New Year were, traditionally, very quiet.  We would try to find things to do with the kids, but mostly we would just have endless days sitting around the house while everything was shut up.  This was nice for the kids because they got lots of time to play with their new toys.  It wasn’t so great for us as we got bored long before work and school got back to normal.

Things are a bit different here, of course.  Christmas Eve was church and then my mother and sister came over for a while.  Then they were back bright and early the next morning to watch the great present unwrapping.  Then it was out for a big family meal on the 26th (which happens to be my birthday), with cake and presents after.  Yesterday evening there was a birthday party for a friend of mine, with kids and food and cake and fun.  Today we all went to my mother’s, where the cousins and other extended family had gathered for another celebration!

Now the kids are off school for a while and I’m busy making plans for them to get together with this cousin and that friend and whatever.   It is wonderful in an exhausting way…or maybe exhausting in a wonderful way?

Christmas is a time when the recycling trucks need to work overtime.  All the plastic and cardboard that accumulates from all those really ‘green-packaged’ toys.  What is surprising is the amount of plastic packaging that is marked as recyclable and the amount that isn’t.

By that last comment I mean it seems to be about 50/50 and I wonder why the 50% that isn’t recyclable, or at least isn’t marked as such, isn’t.  If 50% of the plastic packaging involved can be recycled, why can’t the other 50%?  When we (hopefully soon) move to NY state I understand there are quite strict laws governing recycling there.  The question I would ask is why there do not appear to be regulations governing the marking of products as recyclable?  I would bet that a large proportion of the plastic rubbish generated in our house in the last 48 hours is able to be recycled, but not marked as such.

My other view on all the packaging is the number of twisty metal ties holding the plastic rubbish (i.e. the toys) inside the plastic rubbish (i.e. the wrapping).  Surely all those wire ties, plastic ties and sellotape are not necessary?  

Now, I’m off to get back into my humbug suit…