I’m all seven dwarfs

Seven Dwarfs

All of me

I am Happy most of the time.  And not just because I like wine.  Drunky is not one of the dwarfs in the original story. At least not in the kid-friendly version.

(The adult version features Drunky, Depressed, Raunchy, Annoyed, Slutty, Daddy and Tyrone Lannister.  Or so I’ve heard.)

Back to Happy. Continue reading

A house full of Palm trees

There’s a book called Growing kids with Character that explores the four main personality types as prescribed by the DISC profile.  This book has become a lifeline for many anxious parents in South Africa on how to raise the mongrels some of them gave birth too.  What’s interesting about the theory is that it relates each personality type to a different kind of tree.  The reason for this is unclear, but most probably so fathers can understand it as well. (By the way, remove that thrown from your face, you’ll get wrinkles.)  I’m just telling it like it is.

The DISC-profile identifies four main types of personalities, and seeing that this is not a psychology blog, I’m not gonna bore you with theory, you can do that all on your own, over at www.discinsights.com.  General consensus lets us believe that most people are a combination of these main types, which are Dominance, Influential, Steady and Conscientious.  General consensus states that you’re never just one or the other.  General consensus doesn’t know what he’s talking about.  Enter me. Waaaa-waaaa. Continue reading

Chicken or Owl? Take the test!

owl vs chicken

It always takes two.

Basic human behaviour boils down to being one of the two.  Every person is either an Owl or a Chicken.  And this basic classification stems from human sleeping patterns.

Chickens base their sleeping hours on the sun.  When the sun comes up, so do they.  Simple.  It’s those crazy people who wake up before the crack of dawn just to see the sun rise.  They go on about the crisp fresh air, sitting on a porch with a mug of hot steaming coffee.  These freaks also rarely require an alarm, and probably consider the bone-crushing noise of a Rooster to be comparable with the soaring cry of a Fish Eagle.

They are all chirpy and funny and annoying in the morning.  Smiling their way through showering, breakfast and all the other crap humans have to do before starting their day.  They are the ones who greet you at work with so much enthusiasm that a bystander might think it’s a long-lost friend whom you haven’t seen in 40 years.  Or a survivor returning from a 111 year stint on an island in the South Pacific, removed from any human contact.  (And you desperately want to smash him in the face, whilst switching on your laptop saying “Ah, piss off”.  But you can’t because he is just being friendly and assault is still frowned upon in the work place.)

So the chickens laugh and smile through the day, their energy levels slowly but surely diminishing as the sun sets its course through the sky, westwards.  And when the sun dips out of the horizon their solar-powered personalities disappears with it.  Then the agony of whimpering about being tired and going to bed commence.  They barely make it through dinner and falls asleep noisily in front of the TV, dubbing every joke of the Big Bang Theory.

And God forbid you want to go out.  It’s all about being cold and tired and can’t we do it tomorrow.

Owls in comparison appear on the other end of the scale as they would stay in bed all day if not for the tempting aroma’s of bacon and coffee.  They will slouch at the table with a barely audible hello.  Never good morning, because there is NOTHING good about getting out of bed for an owl.  To say that owls are not morning people would be a slight understatement.  I might as well say that Hitler didn’t hate Jews, he just didn’t understand them.  Most of the owls I know might have their eyes open, but only because it’s anatomically impossible not too.  They only wake up at around ten.  Some actually never do.  For most of them the time spend with opened eyes is directly proportional to the speed at which they turn from being a total Shmuck to being a Miss Congeniality contender.

Their eagerness to interact with other people increase exponentially during the day.  But the volcano erupts when the sun goes down.  Some owls literally vibrate, like kids attending a birthday party sponsored by Nestle or Coca Cola.  There. Is. Just. Nothing. Stopping. Them.  In the worst cases their excitement will be exhausting to anyone within a 100 m proximity.  Vampires embracing the dark, wanting to suck the blood out of every minute of the night, doing random things like playing Sims, blogging, watching movies and if they’re really lucky do the dirty.  Until they fall dead in bed.

To only wake up again with the agony of the sun peaking through the blinds and that fucking rooster killing all hopes that another day hasn’t really arrived already.

So it becomes clear that the only time owls and chickens will mingle in a manner that would seem humane and decent would be late morning to early evening.  This is when both types are at their best behaviour.  A four to six-hour window of humanity interacting with respect.  But also a time when all hell break loose.

In this time the aviary is a place where owls and chickens forget their obvious differences, and they stand the risk of falling in love and even (gasp) marry.  To make matters worse they sprout some twisted offspring; an owl/chicken hybrid.  These little freaks confuses everyone as the paradigm and laws of nature doesn’t apply to them.  But if you love, feed and manage to raise them, at some point they will drop the façade and reveal who they really are.  A chicken or an owl.

And if you’re lucky you’ll get one of each.  (I’m an owl and I love my chicken, by the way. ;-))

Bring on the chaos!

When I travel my awesome wife is quite capable of looking after my two great kids, the household and her teaching job. So when I return from a trip, we normally go out to dinner on the first or second evening and certain things must happen.

The music has to be played loud on the way back, song choice from the kids.  Only one condition, ok two: It has to have an anthem quality and a great beat.  Like our latest choice, “Feel this moment” from Pitbull.  We all need to have a party in our SUV on the way home.

Then Carli and I will fight for a place on the coach upon our return, settling in for Modern Family.  My daughter is getting so tall, that we can reach each other’s feet whilst lying on opposite ends of the couch.  So with feet exposed the fight breaks out at each commercial break.  The loser is the one who can’t take the tickling anymore.

Before Ruben goes to bed we have to share the latest profile pics on his BBM, which can be quite hilarious, so we laugh loudly, like this one…

Image

Then when he’s off to bed it is important to have our daily wrestling match to see how quickly I can get him under the covers, then there is the placement pillows that becomes launching bags.  The dog is all part of this barking, jumping, wagging his tail, excitedly playing along.

Half an hour later when all is quiet in the house, I plunge on the couch quite exhausted, wife hands me a cup of coffee and I ask:

“How do you do this every day on your own?”

“I don’t,” she says, smiles and takes a sip of her coffee.  “When we are alone, it is all very different.  The kids go to bed willingly, calmly.  I tuck them in, we say our prayers, and then I go to my room.  The night is done.”

“How is that possible?”  I ask surprised, still breathing heavily.

“You see,  my love,” she says again, with the most amazing tone of love and appreciation.  “You bring on the chaos.  You bring the energy to our household and that is why we love you and that is why we miss you.  It is all very boring when you are away.”

Words escaped me.  There was an overpowering feeling of warmth that spilled over me.  A feeling of belonging, this is MY people.  My amazing wife could not have given me a better “I love you” even if she tried.  But I also had an epiphany…

So listen, lend me your ears, or eyes in this case.

Every person has the chaos, granted different types of it, but the secret is not to figure out what you have, the secret is to bring it.  To bring the unique energy that you alone posses and come and join the party.  Don’t stand on the sidelines, sit on a chair waiting for someone to ask you to dance, no, jump in and make the event a full experience.

Bring your own chaos.  Bring. It. On.  For what is the alternative option?