Couch model

If there was a major in couch modelling, Elle would be topping the class.

What is it about the career of the couch model that she finds so alluring? I'm not even sure it's that well paid.

She's certainly practiced enough and if the '10,000 hour to become an expert' rule applies, she might just be there. (Right up with her other area of expertise - lip syncing).

Here's the original. (I popped a library track over it to block out Sass yelling from the hallway after I'd sat in front of the telly, missed it twice and finally got it! It's a bit bouncy because Eleanor is laughing that I finally hit record and Sass is squawking in the background. Excellent.

Anyway, it matches them up a bit so you can enjoy the similarity. Here's Elle.

Slightly disturbingly, Sass has also started doing the 'couch model'.

Mutiny

Remember how I love an authentic item?  (BTW, I got the chunk of million-year old Himalayan salt and Japanese grater (below) for Christmas!! I suspect it's the same salt that comes in the natty 'Salt AND Pepper' than members of this family are so fond of for its apparent 'convenience' that comes in a disposable grinder from Aldi... but that's not the point. That just doesn't look as lovely adorning the table - does it?

Anyway, the olive wood cutlery has become the current bone of contention. Geoff is down-right refusing to keep hand washing it. The word 'ridiculous' has been tossed around - a lot.

Almost a year to the day, I was at work, minding my own business, doing my thing, trying to earn a crust and I got this very narky text from Eleanor:

So Geoff is just putting it straight into the dishwasher.

Occasionally, I fish it out, wash it, dry it and pop it away  - but that's not sustainable.

And as Geoff does do a lot of cleaning up of the kitchen, nor am I prepared to forgo that for the sake of some forks.

I'm thinking I may have to concede defeat. It seems to be surviving - so far.

Time flies

Is it just me or is this shooting around faster and faster??

And as further evidence of the increasing speed of time, Eleanor has now finished school!

Here's a picture of her on her very first day when she started 4 year old kindergarten at Lauriston Girls' School.

And here she is this week, almost 14 years later on her very last day, after her Valedictory assembly -sitting on my knee again - I am there - you just need to look closely!!

Elle's Ls

Elle got her Learner's Permit last week. Yay! She passed with two questions to spare. Am I alone in hoping the questions she got wrong weren't the important ones - like what to do at a red light??

Elle's a bit of a late starter. Most of her friends turned 16 and got their Ls last year. And oh how I laughed - the stories! Girls turning corners in heavy traffic, only to forget which side of the road they were meant to be on, parents insisting cars be stopped - in the middle of the road - and learners ordered out of the driver's seat, language that parents really shouldn't direct at their own offspring. Oh yes, it was all very funny. But now it's our turn.

Geoff took her out first. The talk and coordination of the time took longer than lesson - which lasted seven minutes. I hadn't even realised they'd gone.

Me: When are you taking Elle for her lesson?
Geoff: I did.
Me: Really??

For someone who's pretty quick to be giving me driving tips, turns out she can't drive ducks to water. So afraid was she of getting out of control, she didn't get over 10km per hour.

Elle: So Dad's telling me to speed up and we're going down this really narrow street with a BMW on one side and a Porsche on the other....
Geoff: I had to grab the wheel before she drove into something!

I mentioned to my brother that Elle had her learners and mooted the idea of a neighbourhood letterbox drop. Fair warning I thought. He suggested I explore the system used by CityLink that interrupts radio frequency in the tunnel to deliver 'important messages'.

We're heading to a folk music festival in a few days - 3 hours out of town. I had thought it would be a good chance to get Elle's hours up. Geoff says it's a good chance we'll all be killed. It's not happening. In fact, he's insisting we're not ever both in a car when she's driving.

So I've booked her in with the RACV to have lessons. The first one went well - and managed to last the full hour! Next one later this week. Watch this space. And watch out for Elle on the roads!!!

Natural Fitness

Do you think it exists? If it does, I don't have it.

But have you noticed how some people seem to have the ability to comfortably carry out long bursts of physical activity with seemingly no regular or relevant training? It's very annoying.

I live with two - possibly three - such people. The one I'm not allowed to blog about (Geoff) is probably the best candidate. He can surf, ride his bike, swim, walk for miles - all with ease - yet the only only time I've ever seen him run is when he set fire to the house (that's another story!). It's just not fair. This year he has been swimming weekly with Sass, training netball and doing weight training at the gym - but it seems fairly cruisey compared to my gruelling and clearly fruitless running.

As I've mentioned before, I am a crap runner. In fact, when this top appeared for sale in my FaceBook newsfeed, I wondered if someone had been spying on me. Never-the-less, it spoke to me so loudly, I was compelled to buy one.

I run...I'm slower than a herd of turtles stampeding through peanut butter...but I run.

Having not run for months, Eleanor at least has the decency to let me beat her and look like she's about to puke - but only the once. After that, she seems to find her stride and come good - god damn her! In fairness, and as I point out to her, she does have youth on her side.

It does seem so unfair. If I take a couple of weeks off - even skiing or otherwise being very active - guaranteed during my next run I'll feel (and probably look) like a bag of wet cement.

Apparently some scientists think cats of all sizes purr to maintain fitness - maybe I should try and master that?!

But what do you think? Does natural fitness exist?

The Message

There's been a bit of contraversy on FB about the appropriateness of politiacians phoning households with recorded messages. My view is that it's an intrusion. We have a slient number, are on the 'do no call' register and were still phoned. It was during dinner so went through to the answering machine, only to be broadcast across the kitchen until Elle got up and hung up on the call.

So when the phone rang again about half an hour later, we ignored it. The answering machine picked it up and a very familar voice was again broadcast....
'Hello?.....Hello?.... '

Here's the recording of the message

Yes, it was Eleanor from the bathroom -  a mere 3 metres from the kitchen!

And yes, we ignored her too.

Teenage Binge Drinking

Eleanor will be 16 in just over a month and we have tried to keep her alcohol consumption fairly contained.

The current advice is to avoid any consumption prior to 16 due to the impact on brain development. I'm not sure if it's 16 because the impact is reduced after that or if it's 16 because that's probably as long as you can possibly string it out....anyhow, we haven't been totally strict but we haven't done too badly either.

But I think we may have stumbled across a possible deterrent for teenage binge drinking. Although in truth, it's expensive.

The types of occasions when we have allowed Elle to partake in a glass of something have tended to be significant - my 50th, Mum's 80th, when our gorgeous George would have been 21, an extended family get together - that type of thing. So accordingly, the alcohol has also been in the more special category. There's been French champagne for birthdays and some lovely reds.

In fact, some close friends gave us a bottle of Penfold's Grange when George died, aged 19, to be drunk on his 21st - a perfect gesture. So on the day, we invited the friends over and shared the most amazing wine I think I've ever had - and we let Elle have a splash.

The following week, I took Elle to an amateur performance of A Chorus Line at a local high school. (My friend Steven was in it and was so good he sadly made everyone else look a tad ... well, amateur. But I digress.) Anyway...at interval, I bought a plastic glass of shiraz.

'Can I have a sip, please?' asked Elle.
'Just a sip....' I said handing over the disposable vessel.
She had a sip and her face scrunched up so tightly it resembled a cat's bottom.
'That's horrible!' she gasped.... and the penny dropped.

She's now been so spoilt she doesn't care for cheap alcohol and I'm thinking her budget won't be stretching to Bolly for a long time yet!!!

Bingo.

The Key

Key. Such a small word and in most cases, a small object too but with so much history, meaning and  metaphoric innuendo.

When I was at boarding school, the request to the senior girls "Do you have the key to my heart?" referred to the key for the food cupboard that our oft over-refreshed matron hadn't noticed had been removed, copied and returned. The legacy of 'the key' was legendary and we all vied for custody in our final year.

Harry Potter, Indiana Jones, et al have all been searching for a key - or have the key and are searching for what it opens. It's a familiar theme in stories old and new.

We give a symbol of a key to someone turning 21 (or used to!) as a symbol of being adult enough to have a key to the family home's front door.

Tiffany have done a gorgeous range of keys as pendants over the last few years.

It represents the solution to a problem, the pointy bit of an argument, the critical part of an arch's construction is the keystone and a keynote speaker is particularly expert (yes, you Penny Burke!)

And yet, the humble key can cause so much consternation.

You may recall Eleanor's initial departure to boarding school earlier this year that involved a key.

And today....

I'm in a meeting and Eleanor has kindly taken Sass to the movies. I get a call.
Mum, where are you?
I'm in a meeting.
We're locked out of the house.
Use the rock key.  (You know, the outdoor spare key holder disguised as a rock in the garden.)
It's not there. And you can't blame me, I've been away and haven't used it.
Well, I'm not far away, best you walk down to my meeting and get it.

Lucky the production company is literally down the road. And no, I don't mind sharing that we have a rock key - no security issue there because it's NEVER there!!!!!

Down they trot and I hand them my key.

Forty minutes later and I'm rushing to my nail appointment.
Elle, where's my key??
I don't know. (Vague, pretend attempt on her behalf to look.... I'm in a hurry so I leave.)

An hour later and I arrive home. Geoff is at the supermarket, Sass is at a sleep over and Elle is at McDonald's with her mates - and I'm locked out of the house.

For f*&k's sake!!! How hard is a key???

The Countdown

There are just five days before Eleanor heads off to boarding school in the country for a year. She does come home for school holidays and mid-term weekends so it's not like we won't see her.

Don't be fooled by those girlish good-looks, she is the devil reincarnated.
And no, that's not me pulling her hair, it's my sister-in-law braiding.

Some parents are quite nervous about it. I went to boarding school from Year 7 so I have no problem with it! She'll have a ball. They ski, ride horses, hike and camp - what's not to like about that? It's one of the reasons I chose Lauriston.

Geoff was very unsure to start with, having her away. But as she's just turned 14 and is soooooo 14 (mothers of teenage girls will know exactly what I'm talking about!) he now agrees that the timing is perfect. While there, they have no mobile phones, no access to Facebook, Snap Chat, Instagram or any other online sites that aren't directly applicable to their studies. How refreshing!!!

I also have high expectations that our house will be tidy.... and staying that way for more than an hour.

And how does she feel? Well on January 1st last year, when we were in Laos, she woke up and announced 'I go to Howqua next year!' But now it's getting close and they don't know who's in their house of 12 until they get there (what an excellent strategy!) she is becoming a bit nervous.

But we have clashed so much these last couple of weeks, her sleeping in until at least 12 every day, not helping around the house, reading her books, etc, etc that she's even telling everyone that as the other mothers are shedding a tear as the bus pulls away on Wednesday morning, I'll be punching the air and high fiving everyone! We'll see.

Creche vs Nanny?

Creche kids

As a mother who works (I'm unusually on topic today!) all my kids went to creche from between 3 and 4 months old. (I've posted before about my shamefully short maternity leave stints.)

When it comes to childcare, there's no single, ideal solution. It was a topic often discussed at the office with mums - current, pending and contemplating.

A nanny gives you the freedom to run out the door in the morning and just leave the kids and the chaos. Out of home care means you need to have gotten those kids dressed, fed, bags packed, house tidy (if you're anything like me), yourself looking respectable and all in the car - often by 7.30am. And of course, during certain phases, add a breast feed in to that mix!

If the nanny is sick, you need to make other arrangements. If the carer at creche is sick it's not your problem, they'll make other arrangements.

Nanny's can pick up where you left off. Creche is a whole different environment. And for me, that was part of my decision. I actually didn't want someone in my house with my kids doing my 'mothering'. That's about me, not a judgement on anyone else's choice.

The other key consideration is cost. It's hard to go past the value of creche - which includes snacks, hot lunch and music and movement classes. You did pay extra for computer gym. At our creche they even had a visiting hairdresser and you paid about $6 for a trim! A nanny is not only more expensive by the hour but all your home bills go up as well. Again, for many, the flexibility is worth it.

A nanny will also do chores, good ones will do laundry and some even cook. Some will do grocery shopping, take the kids to appointments and swimming classes - really take the pressure off - so I can see the appeal.

When George and Jaz were small, we also raided the creche for babysitters, which proved to have another huge advantage - we knew what was going on with the staff and owners. Not just in a gossipy sense (although that's always interesting!) but to find out how the kids and staff are being treated and getting on when you're not there. We had an incident with baby Jaz when I'd asked them not to carry her around all day (she was irresistibly adorable, but not helpful when I got home and needed to cook dinner). When I arrived to collect her and George, another carer asked me to clarify the instructions - Jaz had had a miserable day and knowing us well, the carer didn't think I could possibly have meant not to pick her up at all. She was right! Could a nanny have also misinterpreted that and I'd never have known?

At drop off, like the others when they were there, Sass was welcomed daily with enthusiasm, "Goooood morning Saskia! What would you like to do today?" I often wished that was I was greeted like that at work - but my response may have been that I'd like to go home now thank you.

Given the age gap between the kids, Sass started creche when George started high school. 'Do you miss creche?' I asked George. 'Those were the good ol' days...' he replied with more than a hint of longing.

Even this week as we drove past creche, Elle reminisced wistfully about the fun and freedom of her days at creche. And of course the afternoon nap.

I know creche isn't for everyone. I was blatantly criticised by some of my non-working friends. But it worked for us.

But what do you think? Please do post a comment - it's very quite on the comment front..... :(

(PS - Yes Sass is in a Christening gown - it was a family heirloom that we popped on her while it fitted and took some snaps. Unlike the other three, she's wasn't baptised. Another post perhaps....)

Five more things about George

George at 14 - nice faux hawk

1. When George moved to Glenallen School it was a huge shift. It was for Jaz too but George was now 14 and moving from a local school where he'd just finished year 8. He absolutely embraced the change from regular school to a school with extremely special kids - which for the uninitiated, can be extremely confronting. So much so, that in his first year there, he was awarded the Courage Award.


2. He did like nice clothes despite pretty much being a jeans, T-shirt and sneaker kind of guy. But here's a pair of very snappy loafers he got last Christmas. He was very happy with them.

3.  George was six weeks younger than my friend's daughter Daisy. But being a girl she did always seem more mature. 'Daisy,' George would lament, 'you're such an adult!'

4. Being five and half years younger than George, Elle was often quite a disruption. "Eleanor you ruined our family!' he'd often yell at her. I did point out that that was not very nice.

5. Lunch at friends - and because George was the oldest of all the kids and a bit of a fave of our hosts, they allowed him to spray paint his initials on the inside of their shed door! He was so thrilled. It's still there. Thanks Brenda xxx.

"I have enough friends."

That’s not true at all. I have the most amazing friends. Some I’ve known forever, some recently acquired, all fabulous! I feel truly blessed to be surrounded by so many people who I find supportive, caring and just extremely good company. Some I see loads of, some not much – it doesn’t matter – I like you all! And I’m confident that every new project will bring more terrific people in to my life.

But I did say exactly this to my 13 year old because I was laying bare the fact that I have absolutely no compunction in not wanting to be her friend. I do think it’s very sweet when girls say their mother is their best friend. That’s lovely. But I was pointing out to Eleanor that I see my role not as her friend, but as her mother. I have no deep need to be liked by her and nor will I make decisions that will make me popular with her, or her friends, so I thought it worthwhile to be clear just so all expectations can be managed.

By being the mother, as I explained, I will invariably make decisions she won’t like. Not to be mean but because I think they are the right decisions for her welfare, safety or development because that’s my job. So she can winge and complain and yell that she hates me – but that’s okay – I have lots of really, really great friends!!!