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Posted by Mummy Dearest on Oct-27-2018

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Protected: Platitudes

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Apr-27-2012

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Overheard

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Sep-12-2011

( The scene : The Father’s car. The Father and Theo are in the front seats, Mummy Dearest is in the back seat.  It is very late at night, and they are driving back to the boonies from expensive street, Amsterdam. Mummy Dearest really wants a Whopper, no, a Big Mac will not do- but, I digress. (  whoops, I feel an I- need-spell-check moment here…yes, I am on a new computer…where was I ?) Mummy Dearest had no desire to meet anyone involved in Haute Couture, first off, that is French, and as Mummy told Haute Couture, my brother and I invented Grunge.

They are catching up, as one says…)

Theo : How is The Boy ?

Mummy Dearest : He has a girlfriend.

The Father : She is German.

Theo  : German ! How did he meet her ?

The Father  : In Zeeland.

Mummy Dearest : At a camping. ( this is, for whatever reason, very funny to Dutch people ). She is a Gothic ( she actually is not a Gothic, she is some sub division or uber division thereof, what does Mummy  know, this is not a dissertation after all, it is a BLOG, BLOG, BLOG ). Mummy likes her fine. The Boy has now become a vegetarian. He looks like Kurt Cobain and is proud of it. He wants Dr.Martin´s, Mummy tells Theo. But, she says, at least The Girlfriend is not a Moonie.

That does date one, doesn´t  it?

 

 

The Surprise

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Feb-22-2011

The Father left at 8 am yesterday morning. For India. For about 10 days.

About 10 days ago, he told me that he would have surprising news for me. And I knew it would not be good news, whatever it was. I really thought that he would hit me with a lawyer and that whole divorce business.

But that is not it.

It is the place in India . ( Mahaneco look it up)

For the last 4 years, we have given up everything for this concept, this project. Money, time, family.  And neither of us likes where we are at the moment. We are both saying, is this our life ?

Last Sunday, he told me that things were going to change. There were numerous scenarios, all depending upon if this and then that, until I had a hard time following it any longer. I told him this. You are talking about step 10, when we do not know if step one will work. I am talking trustworthy personnel, bookkeepers, lawyers, and he is moving on to the this-is-all-solved- next step. You have to start at one. That is all that there is to it, I have been in this business for almost 30 years.

Worst case scenario : we are going to dump it, he says, and he will become a primary school teacher once more. ( I am doing the math here, what are our assets in India, do we own a percentage of the land ? )

And I tell him, Baby, this is not you any longer, you are not a school teacher. You are what you are and that is all that there is to it.

Of course, the cherubs were absolute beasts that morning.

The first was The Boy : he just got that f*cking phone back, after we were hit with a 408 euro bill ( 998 sms’s).. He comes down at 6.50, as is his mode, asks Baby to turn to RTL4, as is his mode, and then spends the next 10 minutes on that phone. Two SMS’s. I finally told him to can it, and he was…very rude. I told Baby to put her wedding dress show on.

Then The Girl comes down, wearing The Baby’s new jeans. Another sh*t fit. Baby is right. And this is all before 7.20am.

The Father comes down at 7.30 and I do not breathe a word of all of this trivial crap. Kiss kiss, have a good trip.

The day did not improve.

That heavens for Karan’s Oscar thing. I actually took some pictures today because of it. Really.

But I do not know if I can go through the whole business behind putting a photo up.

Rule number 1 , as concerns the camera- take the photos in the morning.

School Days- The Girl

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Sep-9-2010

The Girl seems to have finally found a school that she likes, perhaps even loves. Now, this is new and different.

She is following a three year course in wholesale management. Coming from a long line of wholesalers and producers, this is nothing foreign to her. Hey, she worked for about 5 months at one of * The Family* companies ( sorry, The Boy’s wanna be Italian aura does indeed affect me. We are seriously trying to convince The Father to wear one of those dreadful skinny shouldered T’s as we watch The Sopranos together. The Boy always does…).

Back to The Girl. Oddly enough, she seems to have a mentor to die for, for all of the qualities that she possesses- that past mentors have complained about- are now sterling qualities. She is not loud mouthed and brash, no, she has leadership qualities.

Today, put in a group of four, she took over. She told me that it meant that they could do all of the work, while she sat back. I told her that this was called delegating authority. One of the things that they had to do was take a photo of themselves, to put on a wall somewhere in the school.  She handled this, and for herself, took a picture of her shoes. Simple minded that I am, I asked, oh, what shoes did you have on today ? She told me and then said that she didn’t want a photo of her face plastered over the school. Her mentor said that she was very creative. Ok. Women, shoes, this can work.

She is very enthusiastic. She has obviously expressed this to her mentor. She has already planned out where she will do the three internships required of her, during this three year period, and mentioned this. First with Daddy, then with a him-him married couple ( well, I said, at least they won’t hit on you…) and then in India ( well, you already know The Partner’s son…). She tells me that after only a week, many fellow students are whining and complaining, as well as sucking up to her for various and sundry reasons : one, her connections. Two, her English. And three, well, let us be brash and mouthy : she has already asked a number of young men if they have cataracts, for they are staring at her so.

As I often do, I am reading two books at the moment, one about Rasputin and one about Nina Brink  ( in Dutch ). One does have to wonder who was / is the more controversial of the 2. And I tend to think that The Girl could be a new and better Nina Brink.

I am very proud of her, for after all of these years, she’s seems to have her niche.

( No, we will not finance an apartment if you work for him and him. You can live in a Student House. It is a good experience… )

At Last…

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Jul-26-2010

In February, 2007, the land for our new plant in India was blessed.

Today, we finally received the last stamp and production can start next week.

After waiting so very long to go through so much red tape, it is hard to believe that the waiting is finally over.

Next week…

Taxes

Posted by Mummy Dearest on May-18-2010

The Girl has been having a hard time , she needs some paper to give The Bookkeeper, who does our taxes.

This woman is paid , I think , about 106 Euro per hour. She sent us the number of the account that she needed papers for.

The Girl and I went through all of our bank papers. She does not have an account with that number.

I called The Office twice about this.

The account number that she sent us was her telephone number.

My Father taught me many things, one was not to sit down when someone asked you to. You are not a dog.

I play my own games when I am pissed off. When I had to call this very pricey bookkeeper , excessively polite, I spoke in English. Of course, I understand Dutch, but my Dutch is at best good for a laugh, I said. This immediately puts people at a disadvantage.

They really cannot do the speaking in two languages bit. One in English, the other in Dutch.

I got this fixed.

Use your weapons well.

The Girl is still laughing about this.

But it is done, it is solved.

The Girl

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Dec-1-2009

We often say, here in Casa Kitchen, that The Girl has yet to meet a potato that she does not love.

What is now becoming equally true is that she has yet to find any direction in her education. Nope. The Girl has yet to find a school that she loves.

She was in a plan that would eventually lead her into a fashion academy, you know, work for Daddy, something that I do indeed think that she has a flair for. Very creative and all, our Girl. Fashion conscience , must be genetic, didn’t get it from me.

Last night, she says at the dinner table that she wants to go into either book keeping or become a secretary.

She loathes both.

But I was – very politely- asked to keep my mouth shut and so I did.

At times being such a biased Mummy Dearest is very hard indeed.

Psst ! Mummy Dearest…

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Oct-21-2009

The Girl just called me. She is at The Office and The Tante has still not shown her lovely ( I kid you not. Think Demi Moore) face. The Girl has been there for about 4 hours. Waiting for The Tante.

The Girl cannot use the computer, for she needs a login name and a password to do so. I told her, during her call , that when the right time came, I would arrange that she would have her own login and password at The Office.

The Girl works there, part time. Unofficially, or officially ( depends upon whether or not you are a tax inspector) , she is now the assistant to The Tante, who does the book keeping.

After about one day, The Girl knew that she loathed working in administration. But hey, she wants to get her nails done tomorrow and Savvy would be a very good nickname for our precious Girl. She likes the money. But the boredom of sitting, hour after hour, waiting for The Tante is driving her nuts.

Long ago and far away, she was only paid for the hours in which The Tante was actually present. Now, she is paid from the minute she walks into that door. In fact, recently, she now also gets a paid lunch hour.

But she is so utterly bored. After her call, I actually ran out to the baker and bought her two croissants to have when she does darken our doorstep once again.

She loves croissants.

Comfort food.

Madeleines

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Sep-8-2009

Opa called me this afternoon. The point of the call was to see if I had made copies of his brother’s CD’s. Nope, get right on that, I said.

So much has changed. Of course I know that change is inevitable and a good thing, but that is rather the intellectual take on life, isn’t it ? Sometimes actually living through changes is quite another matter.

And my take on The Company and The Family has changed over time. Three brothers, one Father, Catholic but not Italian. In a way, same difference.

It all started changing for me a few months ago, when The Boy and The Girl went to Italy to spend 4 days with one of The Brothers. Having been there before and being a rather savvy sort of person, I filled their backpacks with pounds and pounds of snacks. Still, The Boy lost 4 kilos and The Girl 3. In 4 days. The family that they were staying with were dieting. You know, when the bone thin spawn of one’s loins looses a dramatic amount of weight while visiting relatives for a very short time period, bells do indeed start flashing. The Earth Mother inside one’s soul becomes a bit tetchy. In fact, The Earth Mother cannot but help think about the oodles of money poured out for this very same family each and every Christmas on food alone.

My babies lost weight !

They did not get enough food.

In Italy !

Once one starts on that path, well, nothing is the same again. Smallest point, the hamster we are babysitting. Home for 10 days, no effort has been made to pick up this poor rodent, this beloved family pet ( I am assured that scrapping up the hamster shit yesterday has nothing to do with this ) belonging to yet another Brother. We are all beginning to feel rather sorry for The Rodent, that no one misses the poor beast, why, we would bite too, we think…

During all of these years, when The Father has to go far, far away ( which seems to be his job, no other brother’s), we have both rested assured that should Casa Kitchen need any help, it is but a phone call away. But during the last few years, we have learned that this is not true.

A rather proud woman, I rarely call for help and when I do, it is for one of the children. A birthday party, a ride to somewhere that a bus does not go to. Once every year or so. It has been made very clear to me that I am intruding, that it is always inconvenient. I suppose that I am at the point where I would rather slit my throat now than pick up that old phone.

On and on and on. Life moves on , in cycles. It is time that we moved away from The Family, perhaps even The Company. I am tired of The Father working weekends while The Brothers play tennis with their children. Or perhaps envious, most likely. They all make the very same amount of moolah.

It is time that The Family became our family, The Father, The Mother and the three cherubs.

Yup, I’ll get right on those copies.