Theology 101

This is the first Christmas where Eve has been old enough to start to grasp the Christmas story. As we go to church mostly every week, she has a pretty basic idea of concepts such as God, Jesus and prayers. She knows that we celebrate Christmas because it is Jesus' birthday, albeit with huge frustration that she won't actually get to open the baby Jesus window on her advent calendar for another 20 days.

One of the lesser known facts about her Mummy is that I have a degree in theology. I specialised in the Judeo-Christian tradition and can even read the New Testament in the original greek - well, maybe not now, but I managed to pass the relevant translation exam for my finals. Therefore, there are few theological concepts that I have not thought about, grappled with, and settled in my own mind.

Having an almost three year old throws new light on these. The big ones about the relationship between the God we pray to and Jesus are actually rather easy to explain. God wanted to visit us so he sent Jesus. Jesus now lives with God in heaven (along with great granddad Harry). Jesus was born as a baby and yes, he grew up and taught us lots of important things.

I am also finding that the exposure that the bible stories give to Eve on concepts such as sickness, people being nasty and death (why is it so many people kill children in biblical stories?!) are helpful in exposing her, in a gentle way, to some of the nasties in the world.

However, Eve managed to flumox me this week when we were in a taxi. "Mummy, did the Roman's kill Jesus?". This stumped me a bit. Well, firstly, which gospel are you using? They all have it in a slightly different way. Secondly, is the failure to stop something awful happening tantamount to supporting it? Finally, if ones looks into the political climate of when the gospels were written and the political as well as theological points they are trying to make then can we be sure anyway?

I ended up muttering "well, sort of" and pointing out something pink outside the cab to distract her.

For other such theological musings with children, check out this.

Running with the Dragons

Fresh off the flight back from the UK, with only about 4 hours sleep overnight and I found myself up at 6am the next day to do a 24km canoeing race.

Insane? Probably. Hard as nails? Yes. Now injured with all manner of random bruises, scars and muscle aches? Indeed.

I've added it to the list of improbably stupid races I've done since I fell pregnant and wondered whether the men's crews we beat (I was in a mixed crew with a male friend of mine) are pissed off that they got beaten by a girl. Tee hee.

Eve and the Boy were there to cheer me in. I sometimes wonder what Eve must think of her mother doing all this sport - but then conclude that I must be setting some sort of positive example!

For more details on the race, and should anyone fancy trying it next year, look here

Welcome home, Eve-style

I've not had the best week of my life over the past week. Too detailed and too personal to go into here, but needless to say it involved an urgent dash halfway across the world to London and visiting hospitals. Always the worst fear for any expat who is miles away from their family.

This was also the first time that I had been away from Eve for more than a few days. And the first time on a weekend. I cried when I left home to go to the airport, forcing the Boy to promise to skype me in London before Eve went to bed every night. In the end it was fine. Eve got away with murder while I was away. Exhibit A - a weekend phone call home.

Me "Hello, where are you?"
Boy "In a shop"
Me "I can hear Eve in the background talking about Upsy Daisy, shouldn't she be having a nap right now?"
Boy "I asked her about a nap and she said that she didn't want one"

Hmm, so that's OK then! Eve also wants to ride my motorbike and drive the car but I hope to goodness he didn't let her do those while I was away. In all seriousness, the Boy made a great single Dad and both seemed to have lots of fun without me. That said, I hoped that when I got home Eve would be pleased to see me back.

I purposely walked into the flat, fresh off my flight back to HK, gifts in hand. Whereupon Eve took one look at me, nearly burst into tears and cried "But Mummy, I was about to go to the playground!". After five minutes of gentle reassuring that we would still go and I would come too, and the presentation of the Harrods westie dog in his own bag (thereby combining two of Eve's favourite things in one gift - a fluffy dog and a handbag), I got a huge cuddle and off we went to play on the slide.

When the wheels fall off... the track wheel that is

I don't have much patience for whinging (or gossip, but that's another story). I had lunch today with K, a feisty colleague who is Mum to not one but two gorgeous little girls. K, being the efficient lass that she is, popped them both out at once too. We were talking about someone she knows who is pregnant for the third time and has taken to her Mum's house for the last trimester because she's a bit tired and needs to lie down. Ah, bless. K and I both scoffed at this lack of gumption, us being both of a certain nationality and certain type of upbringing where complaining is seen as a sign of weakness and is punishable by death.

However, I confess that today I feel a lot like complaining. My life is starting to feel like a conveyor belt that seems to be getting faster and faster. I never much liked the Generation Game, I have found something inherently scary about Bruce Forsyth since I was a small child, but I am increasingly finding myself shouting the working Mum equivalent of "teasmaid, TV, hockey stick, cuddly toy" at my life as I desperately try to remember everything I need to do.

So, this morning, for the first time in my career I found myself late to a meeting. Not just a bit late, but full on halfanhourlateanditswithmybossandlotsofimportantpeopleshit late. The cause? My Blackberry broke last night. My life is now organised to the millisecond and if I don't have something to write it all down in and flash and vibrate at me violently to remind me to be somewhere then my life simply stops. Everything goes into my Blackberry, I even put my Sunday school teaching dates into it. Without it to organise my life I am lost.

My assistant called IT to get it fixed this morning, I couldn't bear to call and she had to prise my fingers off it. Someone came and took my broken little device away, and as I wept and made the man from IT to promise me that he wouldn't leave me on my own for too long, I realised the only option is to cancel all meetings for two days until I get the new one.

Stuck inside

A typhoon is about to hit HK (well, maybe, if it can make up its mind where it is going). This is annoying because I have my big rowing races this weekend. The ones for which I have given up my life for over the past 5 months of hard training and dragged myself kicking and screaming countless times onto an ergo. These are the races where all the good international crews come to race. Chinese national crew anyone? But now it is likely to be called off and, well, that's all folks.

However, considering one of the news reports I read today called the oncoming super-typhoon Megi "more powerful than Katrina" I think that come Saturday I will have more to worry about than a rowing race. Thankfully HK is pretty well prepared for this sort of thing - even if it is going to be much, much worse than the normal typhoons that hit.

H, our nanny will be going out tomorrow to panic buy food and I am going to panic buy Disney and Dreamworks DVDs.

The Boy, typically, is flying out of HK tomorrow to go off rowing in the US, leaving us to fend for ourselves.

Mummy rant

It's been over a month since I updated this. In my defence this is my busiest time of the year when I am trying to train for two big races in the next month, write a strategic plan for my team, have a full time job AND be a Mummy that Eve recognises as someone who is involved in her life wearing anything other than sweaty rowing kit or a business suit.

It is usually this time of year that the work/life dilemma looms large and I get to the point where I realise that I simply can't fit everything in. This normally results in me deciding that the only thing to be done is give up work and be an expat wife. Or move to another country. I think both would be slightly extreme responses and the more sensible one would be simply to take on a bit less (I have now added being a Sunday school teacher to my extra curricula activities).

However, for a really extreme response see the below email that was sent out by a parent of a child from Eve's class in reply to an invitation by another to meet for coffee mid-week, when any working Mum is in the office. I'm not sure whether she is taking the piss, had a few drinks too many and let rip, or is really angry enough to send this email to a bunch of parents she has never met. Or all of the above. A few names and locations changed to protect those involved.

"I'm Alice's mom. I would love to come but I tragically have to go to work. I recently discovered that I hate working and I want nothing more than being a stay at home mom, as its so much more fulfilling than the unintellectually stimulating crap I'm doing now. Unfortunately I am in the middle of a project and I can't really leave until February. So as much as I would love to join you, I'm afraid instead that I have to be in my horrible little office carrying out pointless work. Please have a coffee on me and let me know about any weekend playdates, I would love to come along. God I can't wait to resign and be there for my kids."

The real meaning of soap box

Short update on the local election. As election day nears (5th September) the wavers and bowers are out in force. On my way to church today both Paul and Ellis were standing at the same junction waving. I note that Ellis has stopped bowing now, although it was a rather hot day today. It has taken the whole competitive side of the election to a new level when both candidates' waving abilities can be judged side by side.

Clearly, however, the Ellis camp felt they were losing out because on my way home this afternoon I noticed Ellis seemed somewhat taller. A closer look showed that he was, in fact, standing on a blue plastic box.

You couldn't make it up.