I hate the notion of stay at home mums getting benefits. I hate it because they are the source of heated and often misguided debates, in which many scream and cry out loud something to the effect of: do not pamper with governmental money all those women who, after all, chose to have babies and should have prepared for the cost of raising a family.
Well, to me that statement is a sign of total ignorance on the part of the screamers and cryers about what raising of a family is and what it implies. And just to be clear, having kids is not
luxury holidays you save up for and then worry about nothing for a few weeks or months.
Raising a family is a JOB, with an 18 year contract.A JOB which, if done with full support of society, and done well, can make an enormous difference to the standard of life of the society as a whole. Think of the crime, of education, of family and community ties, values, health (both mental and physical).
It is a JOB which should be rewarded with SALARIES, instead of paltry and so often begrudged benefits.

I have not intended this blog as a platform for ranting against non human third parties -institutions, businesses, governments etc...This blog is just to catch the odd thought and digitilize it for others to have a laugh or yawn, depending on predispostion and sense of humour. But when a truly infuriating thing happens, soryy, I just can't help it. And so decided to spread a bit of a malice and smear a bit of mud on the cosy logo of Mothercare. Yeah, mothercare -not
They do not give a toss about a mother and her kids once they have hooked your credit card details. So what went wrong?
I ordered a stroller. Online, of course, to cut out the hassle, even if it meant four days waiting time, as opposed to grabbing that bloody buggy straight from the store.. 4 DAYS -That's the promise, that's the aim, that's the mission which is shoved to customers' attention on Mothercare's website. Four days seemed bearable,so- in the meantime I dragged and dusted a two year old buggy, which is a bit on the deprived side (no rain cover, no tray, no umbrella, no roof). So the order went smoothly. Card details accepted, order confirmed, and at the bottom of the page: surprise, surprise. :WE AIM TO DELIVER THIS ITEM WIHTIN 25 WORKING DAYS
It's a month, with weekends included.For God's sake. And that tactic is so underhand.Bait and switch- I think it's called.
So having been baited and switched, I decided to switch my order off in return.
I called them only to find out that it's impossible, as the item had already been dispatched. Reassured, and with a temporarily restored faith in MC, I waited for the buggy to arrive any time.
After a week, I called again. The customer service rep did not even check my order number, just took my name. Then I heard the item had been shipped. Should be with me soon. I - gracious soul=sucker- gave them another 4 days. But there was No sight of that thing on wheels.

I called for the third time, I highlighted my case, and was told the item is 'en route'. They started getting French with me, so I decided to get tough. I asked them for a tracking number and the name of courier company they use. This request met with a blank stare, that is at least what I imagined at the other side of the telephone life. 'We do not tracking, it's all internal'. Whatever..to me it was all infernal treatment.
I lost patience. And a lot of time, and alot of money on taxis saving my kid from getting drenched in the recently frequent showers.But, there is a silver line. I gained some knowledge which I would be happy to share. I CRACKED THE CODE used by mother-NOT-care when they speak to you.

Here, what it really means when they say dispatch, ship, en route
DISPATCH: a stray dog pissed around the item, a warehouse manager shifted the item from one corner to the next to prevent damage (well done)
SHIP: the warehouse manager goes on holidays, on a cruiseliner with wifey, and, to pleasure himself in the idle moments,-WANKER!- took along his laptop with all the online customers' orders stored on the hard disc.
En ROUTE: the waves get high, the deck tilts, the laptop slides down into the big blue sea, the warehouse manager calls the office, saying (lying) he had a vision of a baby boom coming soon and asked the company to recruit an army of customer service reps.

An outing to the local playground in the park gave me some foul food for thought and a bit of indigestion.

I took the kiddies out. The day was rather rainy throughout, but had to snatch a few moments between the rainy spells to air the little rascals, otherwise they go mad, and I do too, but much more.

There is a new installation in the park playground. A spinning wheel, the metal sort- a bit like a plate- that is installed in the ground, with a bench on it, and barriers around. So kiddies, who are game for a spell of dizziness, jump on and spin. My children love it, and I am wondering if that may be some government-blessed way of seeking alternative states of minds. But then it could be the first step to serious stuff: Spin on a wheel when you're 3, roll a joint at 14, sort coke at 19 and so we roll down the hill. By the way, downhill rolling is another fave game of my children. Fortunately, a thorough wash is good enough to deal with the after effects.

Gosh, I am straying...anybody there still?

About the spinning wheel.
I and my kids got on it. My little girl is just too little to stay seated on her own, I need to support her and be there with her. And being on the wheel, I cannot spin it. My son is not big enough to spin it with mummy and sister on it. So we were kind of stuck on the wheel, not moving, trying to figure out how to get it going, when two big black children (brother and sister) approached and offered us a spin. Great. We were up for it. And so the grabbed the barriers, and on the outside of the wheel ran and pushed the wheel round. Quite fast. Faster than my kiddies are used to, anyway. My son screamed. With joy. My daughter shrieked, with less joy and more uncertainty. I made silly faces and 'ahhhh' noises, demonstrating I was joining in the fun. All in all, we were a bunch of human noise on a wheel.
Then I asked the kind kids to stop, which they did somewaht reluctantly. The fun was obviously mutual. I stayed for a while seated on the bench, just making sure I was steady on feet before I got up. Then I realized with amazement that a bunch of parents were watching us with expressions of clear concern and apprehension in her faces.
One guy even came by and as if in passing asked if everything was OK.
Yes, it was. Perfect. Why wouldn't it?
Then I realized that the scene of me and my children on the wheel must have looked to the others a bit suspcious, rough perhaps.
But I bet, if the children were white, there would be no concern registering on the onlookers' faces, actually I bet (what a gambler I am), the whole scene would hardly register in anyone's mind and memory.

I have not been active here for over a month. Many things happened, mostly a thick and sprawling mental block stood in the way of my will to write. Today though I logged on, glimpsed at statistics and - oh gosh- almost 300 visitors came and viewed my pages. Who are these people, and how do they stumble across something that even I have forgotten the existance of? Kind of got motivated to start writing again. After all, there are people out there who read, or simply glimpse and move on, or glimpse and yawn, I will never know. That brings me to conclude there is some room for improvement in the technological aspect of blog management, time every visitor to a blog, and publish the data regarding how long each page was viewed. In this way, I could know what was passed over in a hurry and what hooked for longer..
Yawn
Good night.