An afternoon with The Boys.


Been a while but life is getting in the way of my blogging. Thankfully things are getting back to normal so more time to write….yayy! I have  a greater respect for you guys who do this everyday sometimes twice a day!

This afternoon I reached home relatively early with Son-son (Mam’zelle was with hubby) and proceeded to faceplant on my bed thinking he would occupy himself until his sister came home. He had other plans and kept bugging me to go out and exercise, a task I have duly entrusted upon him….to bother me until I feel guilty enough. He’s very good at this particular task so after all the complaints and suggestions using reverse psychology we were on our way around the block.

I don’t mind walking in the neighbourhood with him. It’s residential enough and he can keep up with my brisk walking since I still don’t do running well (it’s a work in progress). If it were Mam’zelle I would have to endure the endless ‘I tired’s, ‘my foot hurtin’s and ‘dogs barking at meeee!!!’s so I was thankful in that regard. We ended up in the park with the bolted exercise equipment that are found in open spaces in most parks all over Trinidad and I decided to concentrate my workout there. In the meanwhile some other young boys surfaced with the footballs and well you know what happened next. While I’m trying to navigate a rowing machine I felt the tap on the shoulder. Without looking around I said go ahead since they were within distance anyway. At the end of my sweat I decided to stop thinking about time and what I was going to cook, wondering if hubby reached home but passed the next way, and focused on sitting and looking at him interact and kick ball with random boys of average age.

The following thoughts came to me:

  • Will I ever let him go out the road by himself to meet friends and play football in the park? These boys range between 6-10. How they out here by deyself? Is my son too sheltered?
  • Why that little, fiesty one calling my child ‘small man’ and he smaller than him? I wonder if that’s how familiar boys in a group address newbies?
  • Why that little fiesty one is the only one bawling out YUH ON SHIT BOY! and SHIT MAN! and endless pronouncements of SHIT! for no reason? And why he watching me and blushing when he saying it over and over? (I guess my Raised Teacher Eyebrow was noticed but ignored).
  • I wonder if  it’s so natural to him? I wonder if to actually TELL him to stop saying it. I wonder if doing so would embarrass my son and he gets ostracised and then they wouldn’t want him to play again because his mother jumbieing de scene?
  • I wonder if boys in his school curse regularly like that? I wonder if boys on a whole curse regularly like that? How much of a curse is the word ‘shit’?
  • OK now why they have Son-son in goal doing nothing and they playing on the next half of the basketball court? That’s really unfair.
  • Oh now I understand, they want ‘small man’ to block the long balls. These children never hear bout small touches? Why they kicking so wild?
  • Why is Messi versus Christie? Who is Christie? Orrr Christi….like Ronaldo…why they doh just say Ronaldo? People does say ‘Christi’?
  • I feel like I babysitting all these little boys, why am I the only parent here?
  • Why am I worrying? Them boys musbe accustom going in the park by themselves, they won’t be the first and they won’t be the last. That is a normal thing from urban to rural, from generation to generation but times are so different now eh.

Maybe I’m a tad paranoid, I can’t even stomach seeing little children travelling by themselves on the road.

I soon called my son off the pitch after he was thoroughly drenched with sweat. He was smiling and happy and his new ‘pardners’ waved his goodbye. But I still felt wary leaving them there. I guess there is safety in numbers and the neighbourhood isn’t a ‘bad’ one, but nowhere is immune these days. So many things are happening to children these days in Trinidad. We are witnessing a definite spike in children’s accidents deaths for various reasons ranging from fire to drowning. Many say parents need to be more responsible, others say there is evil stalking the land because of the current climate….whatever the climate is. i’m inclined to believe both.

Truthfully I wish the climate could return to how it was before, but before when exactly? Can anyone pinpoint exactly when ‘Trinidad was nice’ and ‘tings was nice?’ When was the tipping point?

I’m an advocate for simple joys and playing football in the park with a crew you’ve just met definitely falls into that category.  Shouldn’t that be an experience that is pure, carefee and without worry about possible negatives based on the way things are going on now in society? I want that for my gremz, I want that for your gremz too, they deserve it. At the end of the day though I can’t help switching on the TMDIM valve:

Bless up


And Counting…..(part 2)

Ok so it’s been over a week since my last post and with good reason. I have been dog tired to the point where in the evenings I couldn’t even open my eyes far less my laptop. I have just been doing the bare minimum preparation for the next day and although the end of the tunnel is near (July-August holidays) the light still seems further away than usual. So the good folks at SomeeCards are completely right:



As I may have mentioned before, in addition to mommy chores at home and ‘mommy chores’ at work, a large part of this has to do with the distance I drive to and from every day. It is approximately 30 km to go and 30 km to return and apparently for most, if not all, first-time appointments in the Ministry of Education this is perfectly normal from ever since. So if you live Carenage, the “only space available” is Princes Town, and if you live Penal, the “only space available” is Matelot. You take the position because you want to work, you need to work and like my mother advised, “you need to get your foot in the door”. This is a reality for many of us in the middle who have mouths to feed and can’t simply afford to wait for the works of fate and all the bricks falling into the right place. So you sacrifice until you get that precious transfer which is a whoooooole other kettle of fish boiling with politics, miscommunication, delays, bureaucracy and plain idiocy.

Many people I’ve spoken to are usually aghast when I mention where I work, others say “well yeah dais a nice drive” and I agree. It is a nice drive for a Sunday…maybe every Sunday…..






That last one there is my view from work in the carpark and yes it is a nice drive and yes the view is sublime but not…every…day……I’m thankful that I have co-workers to keep me company most times but it can really take a toll especially now nearing the end of the term. Last week a police officer stopped me by the junction in Valencia because he ‘thought I looked like something was wrong’. My head was leaned on the window pane and with my facial expression, he probably thought I was contemplating a misdemeanor. When I get home after an hour and a half of ‘zombie-driving’, picking up the gremz and listening to the tales in primary school-land, I usually roll out of my car when I get home.  Thank God they are big enough to take turns to jump out and open the gate.

The sad thing about this is that usually  I don’t even allow myself time to rest when I get home. My twisted logic dictates that I keep going when I reach, so I sometimes I will still be in work clothes all 6-7pm in the kitchen, helping with homework, still spinning….until I bathe and crash. In the past week it wasn’t so. I came home and sat. I came home and lay down. I contemplated bathing (*gasp!). I slept at 8 o clock. I deferred supervision of homework and study unless it was realllllly necessary (thankfully it wasn’t!) and today Saturday I am in bed, deciding which of my chores are realllly vital and which could hol’ ah burn til next week.


So I’ve decided for the sake of my health and sanity, I’m letting THAT particular title go until I can take up the mantle again. In the meanwhile I’m still counting down…

Sidenote: Is it just just me or does anyone else feel like they can get every single thought-process summarized in a SomeeCard? Pure genius!

Bless up.