Saturday, 25 October 2014
There. Now I've got all of that out of my system, it's time for the actual blogging. I'm sure this is a post that's been said many times, many ways, but much like Nat King Cole, I'm giving you my version.
I've never been one for anatomical terms for body parts. I've broken my tibia and fibula, but if you ask me, I broke my ankle. Twice. And so it begins. I rarely talk about my breasts or mammaries, but if my underwire is escaping, I'll tell you I'm being stabbed in the boob. And as I'm quite generously endowed in the nork department, it's a very real possibility.
So, when Squeaky arrived into the world in all her girly glory, I started to wonder. Obviously with boys there are many words to describe their genitalia, but the vast majority are understood, whoever you mention them to. Whether it's willy, knob or dick, we all know what you mean. Willy being the generally accepted term for small boys, just, well, because. (As a side note, I once worked with a John Thomas. I still wonder what his parents were thinking) But for girls? Which word do you use?
As I said, I've never been one for anatomically correct terminology. If you are, that's great, but it's just not me. So, what are our choices? The word most commonly used in the valleys seems to be "Foof", but, errr, no. I'd never heard the word til I moved here, and now it's everywhere. But it sounds too much like fluff, which was a euphemism for fart when I was a child, and fanny farts have their own special word (queef, if you were wondering), Fanny, as just mentioned in the previous sentence is an obvious suggestion, but as the world is getting ever smaller, and I have many friends on the other side of the Atlantic, I want to avoid the confusion between our (front) fannies and their (back) fannies. Y'know.
Vulva, foof and fanny are all out then, so what's left? I couldn't face being all twee and silly with twinkle, flower or something along those lines. I'd be quite tempted by the Fivepenny Piece's inspiration and Ha'penny (though I really remember it from the Wurzels, but I couldn't find that on youtube), but I'd be the only person to get the joke, and that's probably not good. And I can't remember what I called it myself as a child. I do remember learning the correct words in school when I was about 9 or 10 and finding them all hilarious, but being very confused about who had which. Penis is just a nicer word.
Thankfully, Squeaky being Squeaky, she addressed all my concerns before I had chance to make a decision. She refers to her "little bottom", and I can kind of see the logic. From her angle it does sort of look like a bottom, and it's certainly littler than her actual "big" bottom. Problem solved. While the "it's not a bottom" brigade will probably be every bit as upset with that as they are with "front bottom", that's their problem, not mine, My daughter's body, my daughter's choice of name. It's one that will not cause confusion, should she have to talk about it, but equally won't raise eyebrows in the playground.
Knickers are the description of choice for undies, thankfully. Even Daddy wears them according to Squeaky. We all wear knickers, though some are nicer than others. Again, I was quite conscious of the international world she'll grow up in, and pants are almost as confusing as fannies. Our pants are somewhat less acceptable to be on show than those in the US.
As for the rest, her bottom is her bottom or bum. And sometimes arse, but that's more to describe Daddy's stinky one. Boobies is her description of choice for breasts, both mine and her own (lack of). We do windies, though she knows that fart is another name that we choose not to use. And the longer she goes without learning about boys genitals, the better.
What about your house? How do you feel about accurate terminology? When did you introduce the right words?
Friday, 24 October 2014
|What a welcome|
That sadly wasn't possible, for the best reason, of course. Dinner. Our dinner reservation in the Verve restaurant had me slightly confused because there seems to be some rebranding between Verve and Vinny and Vito's, and I can't quite tell which way it's going. Anyway, Verve is what our reservation said, so Verve it is. The menu was kept simple, but with loads of intense and varied flavours. With at least 4 vegetarian starters and main courses, there was a good choice, and I couldn't wait to get stuck in. I opted for the caramelised onion & feta tartlet to start with, and couldn't have picked better if I'd been in the kitchen. (At this point I have to apologise because I really couldn't take photos of Daddy's dinner across the table before he tucked in.)
|Caramelised onion and feta tartlet|
|Salmon fillet with mango, coriander and chilli salsa|
Disclosure: I was invited to be a guest at the hotel free of charge, and provided with a spa treatment and meal in the restaurant for the purposes of this review. I was not told what to write and all opinions are my own. Links are provided for convenience only, I am not a member of any affiliate scheme and will not receive reward for their use.
Saturday, 18 October 2014
|Veruca Salt, with her Golden Ticket|
Thursday, 16 October 2014
At the moment, she wants to be a teacher when she grows up. I'm glad her teacher is a good role model, and one I'm happy for her to choose to emulate, though secretly I'm hoping her dreams don't stop at teaching, right now she could go far further. That said, her previous ambitions have been to be a princess and a mummy. Both noble, I'm sure you'll agree, but really quite gender specific. Why not an astronaut, an explorer, a vet, a bus driver? PirateGirl wants to be a doctor, inspired in part at least by Doc McStuffins. A career to be proud of, no matter what's inside your pants. Doc McStuffins being a show I particularly like for it's challenging of traditional gender roles, without making a big "thing" of it. People just do what they do.
Much as I'm tempted, I'm not going to break Squeaky's pink phase, or at least not until she's ready to move on to other things. But can I at least limit its impact? Do girls have to have special pink versions of everyday items, just because they're girls? Really?
I want my daughter to celebrate being female, to be proud of it, not to feel that concessions have to be made to compensate for her lack of testicles. After all, as Beyonce asks, "Who runs the world? Girls"
Wednesday, 15 October 2014
I hope right now you're reaching for your credit card, scratching your head and wondering to yourself, "What should I buy for my favourite blogger for Christmas?" Well, look no further, because I've put together a mini wishlist, and I'll be happy to accept these tokens of your appreciation for my time, effort and assaults on the English language.
First up, this gorgeous channel set ring. My engagement ring is a trilogy ring, and I love the sentiment that the three stones represent the past, the present & the future. This ring is kind of a triple trilogy with three sets of three stones, which would symbolise me, Daddy and Squeaky, and our past, present & future together. Sentimental old fool I am some days, I know, but that's just me. The simplicity of this ring means that I could wear it every day without worrying about catching the stones on something, but it's an unusual style, which would stand out amongst the solitaire crowd at the school gates. And with purple hair, I'm never going to blend in with them, am I? £43.70 to make sure I don't fade into a background of peroxide and designer labels (and that's just the kids)
curved sterling silver pendant. To me, it's a chilli pepper. It is, isn't it? Now, don't panic, I'm not going to get all oversharey about the state of my relationship, but I do love a bit of spicy food every now & then, who doesn't? And one of my friends goes by the nickname Chilli, so it would remind me of her every time I wore it, which would fix a smile on my face as I thought of all sorts of bad behaviour and good times! No, I'm not telling you what, statute of limitations and all that, I can't be held responsible any more, or at least not without a certain, shiny gift. £33.50 is a bargain price for an insight into my psyche and misspent youth.
OK. So now you know what to buy me, I want you to think very hard about how you're going to wrap these lovely shinies. I'd suggest a red gift bag, with the boxes inside, slipped under the Christmas tree around about midnight. I'll leave a glass of sherry out for Santa, and a carrot for Rudolph, you do your bit and I'll do mine. Bonus points for humming "Have yourself a merry little Christmas", or leaving me a bacon sarnie & glass of bucks fizz, because no-one else will remember.
For my part, I will make sure my eyes light up like the Blackpool illuminations, and do my best surprised look when you've given me exactly what I asked for! You love me, don't you?
|My eyes. From the top deck of a number 1 bus.|
Disclosure: This post is my entry to a competition hosted by Diary of a Jewellery Lover, where I have the chance of winning vouchers to spend on items from The Real Effect. I have not been paid for my post, and there is no guarantee I will receive a prize. Links are provided for convenience, I am not a member of any affiliate scheme and will not receive reward for their use. My competition entry is not judged on the number of clicks to the above links.
Monday, 13 October 2014
It did get me to thinking though. Do politically motivated curriculums (ok, curricula if you want to be correct about it) do children any favours at all, or are they merely pandering to the preferences of adults? While I didn't go to school in Wales, I did go to a church school, and as a result, I was forced to study RE throughout school. At GCSE level we had the choice of the GCSE class, or a non-GCSE class, no option for "actually I'm not that interested". This meant that out of the 9 subjects we could take, we had one less option, one less chance to study something that interested us, or that would prove useful in employment and later life. I can tell you plenty about the Synoptic Gospels, but do you want to know it? I didn't, and I'm still not sure I want to now. Schools in Wales are much the same, by making Welsh compulsory, they are taking away the chance for children to study the things they are good at, and are interested in. If that's Welsh, great, if not, give them a choice.
I remember watching with envy my friends in other schools, who had the opportunity to choose to study psychology, sociology, media studies, things that interested me and would have proved far more helpful in my university days and later in my career. Instead I took RE and History which bored me senseless (I still managed to pass, despite my best attempts otherwise). No teen really knows what they're going to do with the rest of their lives at the age of 13 or 14 choosing their options, but I knew for certain I wasn't going to be a religious historian.
What do you think? Did your school, or your children's school have compulsory subjects outside of the English, Maths & Science that we all expect? How did you approach it?
Tuesday, 7 October 2014
Hello, you crazy spammers with your very loose grip on the English language. Welcome to my little corner of the blogosphere. I'm glad you're so interested in what I have to say, especially those hundreds of you that have taken the time to comment today.
Seriously though. Enough is enough. You aren't even trying to be relevant, and I'm fed up of my email beeping every 30 seconds to tell me you've commented again. You're not going yo get published you know.
So please, listen to Robbie and Bobbie, Squeaky's bee friends, and buzz off. (This is a family blog, I was thinking something much less polite.)