What did you talk about this week?

Friday is here. I have uncapped a beer. Let's give a cheer. That I do not write poetry for a living...

This week, Fam Fibro has been all about the renovations, the general chaos of moving to my parents' house for a few weeks while it all goes on (thanks Mum and Dad!), and wondering why we're doing this to ourselves. A few other things that came up...

Writing, book edits, real people, questions, Robin Hood, Wi-Fi, banks, arrows, scooters, dressing gowns, food diaries, centimetres, chest infections, antibiotics, temperatures, Fireman Sam, Superman, clutter, schedules, passwords, soccer training, paint colours... That's about it. We really are very focussed. Aren't you glad you don't live next door?

What did you talk about this week?

[image: tvtropes.com]

Pssst... what's the password?

I went to the garage boys' clubhouse this evening to tell them it was time to come in for the dinner/bath evening tango. I knocked on the door, using the secret knock (I'd tell you, but Mr4 would then have to practise his Ninja Turtle moves on you and, well, let's just say it wouldn't be pretty). There was a pause. Then...

"Password." Whispers. "Please."

Password? Rummaging around in my mind, I dredged up, from the sea of passwords milling about in there, the one word that would allow me access to the headquarters of the Fun Five. It took a minute. There are a lot of passwords milling about in there these days, talking amongst themselves (without even having yet introduced the idea of the family password).

Finally, I came up with it and conducted my business with relative aplomb. It reminded me, however, that my password life is becoming more complicated. I used to have one that I used for pretty much everything. Then I read somewhere that that was a dumb idea. Not only did my one password have no numbers or symbols or hashtags or anything to complicate it, making the whole thing pretty easy to crack, but once it was cracked, my whole life was wide open.

So I began mixing it up. And I now have an array. Which is all well and good - except when I have to actually log in to something. The time spent going through the various combinations of password/email options, trying to remember which one goes with what website/account/social media outlet, is time that could be spent much better in any number of other places. I can vouch that my security is getting better - I can't even get into half of my accounts myself.

I read that I could get myself a Password Safe or Password Keeper. One handy, highly encrypted spot in which to store all my passwords. Imagine. I could just look them up and never forget one ever again. But then I got to the fine print. Said Password Safe requires one master password to unlock it. Imagine. I'd forget that and my whole life would remain highly encrypted forever.

[image: the boys' clubhouse looks nothing like this amazing print from sarahkhomemade/etsy]

Have you got a family password?

How many passwords do you have in your life? Ignore PIN numbers for the time being - heaven forbid we should bring numbers into the equation - and concentrate on passwords. Are you a person who has the one password for everything? Usually something really clever like 'password1'. Or do you actually follow all that IT advice and keep a different password for every single account and change them every month? If you are one of these people, please send immediate tips as to how you remember this month's passwords.

I ask about passwords not because I'm going to share mine (hundreds of different ones, since you asked, updated regularly and written down nowhere...that's my story and I'm sticking to it), but because an article I read today at SuperParents gave me food for thought. A great guest post by Kelly Burstow of Be A Fun Mum (clearly she had me in mind when she named her blog) on stranger danger introduced the idea of a family password.

This is a word specific to your family, to be used if you need to unexpectedly send someone they're not expecting to collect them from somewhere. If the adult knows the password, the kids know it's okay to go with them. If they don't know the password, the kids run screaming for the nearest teacher or trusted adult.

This got me thinking. First, I thought how useless I would be as the person sent in the emergency because I would no doubt forget the password en route, arrive to pick up the children and fail the test. They would have to stand there in amazement as I ran through every password I know in the hopes of lighting on the right one.

Then I started thinking about what our family password might be. A word specific to our family that a stranger would not guess by chance. And yet one that would not be completely embarrassing to share with the adult on their way to collect the kids. Family language can be a strange thing. Sister C (MultipleMum) wrote recently about some of our extended family vernacular and you should have a look at it here if you are game. (One read and you won't understand how you've existed to date without the verb 'to parp'. Trust me.)

In our house, chickens are known as 'bokkens' because this is what Mr3 called them for a long time. They make a 'bok, bok, bok' noise, therefore they were bokkens. Junk mail is known as 'reklame', the German word for advertising. The daily weather update on the news is greeted with shouts of 'Het weer!' - 'the weather' in Dutch. (There's not much to get excited about in Fibrotown... and there is that genetic predisposition...)

You see my problem. "I need you to pick up the kids."
"Okay."
"You need a password."
[pause] "Okay."
"It's 'bokkens'."
[long pause] "O-kay. Um, sorry, something's just come up."
[dial tone]

I am going to talk to the kids about this. If anyone can come up with a password it is Mr6, with his background in smugglers, spies and groups of kids with time on their hands. Once we work it out, I'll let you know.

Actually, no, I won't.

Do you think the password thing is a good idea? Would you struggle to come up with a suitable word? Or is that just me overthinking my attempts to Be A Fun Mum? Again.


{image: hklinger/etsy}