Wednesday 4 February 2009

Crash, Bang, Moral Dilemma

A few lessons have been learned lately:

  1. If you feed metallic holographic wrapping paper through a shredding machine, it buggers the cutting blades. ( I was trying to make cheerleader style pom-poms for Thing 2.)

  2. My daughter has stronger moral fibre than my son.

  3. Honesty generates good karma.

I'm 5 days into single-mummydom and, rather than lamenting my husband's absence, I've been embracing my temporary independence. When the alarm buzzed on Monday morning I felt a sense of self-satisfaction along with the usual irritation at being awoken from my peaceful slumber. That annoying little sound proved that I am still capable of setting an alarm clock.

I wanted to prove I was a decent Mum too, by enjoying some quality time with the chiddlers; hence the pom-pom experiment. I asked their advice on which type of sandpaper we should buy in B & Q, to help us with our DIY project. Back home, I put Pinky in charge of finding the sander in the shed, and his sister was given a screwdriver and pointed in the direction of the handles to be removed. With all plans for the proposed extension on hold, I decided to make the most of what we've got.

Sanding is hard work, but there's something quite therapeutic about rubbing away years of stains, varnish and grime. Stripping the wood back to it's bare beauty, revealing the grain which tells its life story. The final result will be all the more rewarding, knowing that I have helped create it. I say helped, because it was my friend Lucy who motivated me to start the task AND put her fair share of elbow grease into it too. Her positivity rubs off on me and that's a good thing, although I wonder what her reaction would have been, to the moral dilemma I faced tonight.

It's 7pm and the Hollyoaks credits are rolling. It's 1/2 hour since the kids finished their chili and now they want pudding. They won't be fobbed off with apples, and I could do with some cake to see me through the night, so we head off for the Co-op. Walking = exercise, fresh air, environmental friendliness, economy......but........as Pinky slams the front door behind him, wearing only a polo shirt, my mind shouts, 'car= warmth, speed, comfort, convenience.'

I've driven 50 metres from my gate and I'm trying to manoeuvre my Chelsea Tractor past a Yaris, parked 2 metres from a junction and obstructing more than half of the already narrow lane. Crash, bang, 'shit'. Did that lady, loading something into a nearby car, hear that sickening sound of metal against metal. Should I stop and report it? Try and get away with it? Thing 2 urges me to do the former, Pinky the latter.

In the end, I was compelled to side with my daughter, when she posed the question: 'How would you feel if someone had done that to your car?' , right after berating me for using a swear word. I'd been torn between the satisfaction of doing the honest thing and the desire to keep my no-claims bonus intact. Pinky, I fear, may turn out to be one of the 'if you can't beat 'em, join 'em' types, but for now at least, he's still intent on beating them above all else. I have to admire his competitive nature. On Sunday, in an attempt to prove he was as good a chef as his dad, he rustled up a fantastic cooked breakfast. who cares if his ulterior motive is to gain Brownie points towards the skateboard he wants? I intend to get a bit more mileage out of his current willingness to cooperate - I've always preferred the carrot to the stick method.

I duly placed on note under the windscreen wiper and awaited the call. I 'felt the fear and did it anyway'. At worst, I could expect an irate driver shouting abuse down the phone at me and an increased premium on my motor insurance. As it turned out, the caller was perfectly reasonable and polite and even thanked me for leaving the note. Sometimes, all it takes is for someone to acknowledge on act of honesty to reinforce my faith in karma.

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