Mother of the Year

A friend's young adult daughter recently sustained an ankle injury that required a trip to casualty and an x-ray.

Gee, said the doctor looking at the results, when did you last break your ankle?
I haven't, replied the daughter, somewhat bewildered. You actual have, said the doctor, I can see it on the image.

Needless to say, my friend was aghast to think her daughter, at some stage in her childhood, had suffered a fracture and she'd failed to notice. She said she felt terrible.

Oh goodness, I said, I'll raise you!

When Elle was about three, back in days before everyone was so litigious, games like 'Stacks On' where completely acceptable at creche. That when for entertainment, the kids literally jump on top of each other and make a big pile - go figure why that's fun but they all thought it was hilarious. During one game, Elle was launched upon by a much bigger 5 year old and complained for days about a sore shoulder.

You may recall that Drink a glass of water is my panacea for all things wrong with the kids, but after a few days of continual complaining, occasional weeping and no apparent improvement, I felt a trip to GP was finally warranted. He send us straight to the sports medicine centre for an x-ray which confirmed she had broken her collar bone. Whoops.

Anyhoo.... on the upside, there is no treatment for a three-year old with a broken collar bone. The GP made her a sling (he assured me it was more for psychological benefits than anything else) and on we went.

The difference between my friend's daughter and Elle is that she had no recollection of even a mumble about a sire ankle - I think I win!

Parenting Tips

So I've been continually parenting for more than 23 years, I've been a Cub Scout leader and had hordes of kids grace our home - but there's still loads to be learnt.

A couple of great tips have come from my daughters' school. I guess they've had more experience than most - but they're just so good I need to share.

The first is 'I feel sick'. As we all know, it can be hard to diagnose a genuine 'I feel sick' from an 'I don't want to do what I'm meant to be doing/about to do.' The school nurse has nailed it; a nice big glass of antacid that she insists is drunk while fizzing.

mot

If you've not had the experience, trust me, it's hideous! If you really are sick, it may in fact make you feel a lot better (after a big burp!). If you're not, it's so revolting you may indeed, genuinely feel sick for a bit. But it's a sure fire way to sort the wheat from the chaff!! And if you were pretending to be sick, chances are you won't be trying that one again any time soon.

She also has a good stock of lozenges - not the sweet, buttery, delicious ones – more your eye-watering, breath-taking, eucalyptus ones. So you'd really want a proper sore throat before asking for one of those.

Tough love kids!

The other tip follows outdoor education. When the girls are all back on the bus for the long trip home, being very noisy and loud, talking, laughing, carrying on - apparently the driver simply turns the heater up to the max and guaranteed they'll all be asleep within minutes! (Don't ever do this if you're tired....that'd be dangerous.)

So there you go - always new tips to learn - even for this old dog!

Farewell Fair Friend

After 10 years of service, we've retired our tent. We've certainly had our money's worth.

I vividly remember when I got it. Here's what happened (please, don't judge). I was on maternity leave  and rocked up to Kmart with all the kids in tow - George was 12, Jaz was 11 and in a wheelchair, Elle 7 and Sass 5 months in a pram on a mission to buy one of their $24 strollers to take on our driving holiday to Tasmania. Technically, Sass was still a bit small for a stroller, but there was no room for a pram.

We'd recently been camping at Easter with the six of us wedged into our one room tent and enduring a horrendous storm in which George's sleeping bag got soaked (with him in it!). That had sparked the need for a larger one - but right then, there were other priorities.

Back to Kmart. I spotted a two room tent on sale and called Geoff. If he promised to sell the old one, I'd buy the new one. Done!

I grabbed the tent, the stroller and the usual stuff you discover at Kmart that you didn't know you needed until you saw it.

Chatting with the ladies at the check out, I confess I wasn't paying much attention. I paid, organised George and Elle to help push the pram, the wheelchair and the over-flowing trolley back to the car. As I was loading kids and gear, I suddenly thought That can't be right when I recalled the finally tally of our shopping. I dug out the receipt and confirmed my suspicions. Among the chaos, the chat and the price checks, the tent had been put through at $24 and no no sign of the stroller.

I was not going back.

So there you have it. Pretty much a free tent.

After 10 years though, the zipper on the front was dodgy, we discovered half a pole missing (The Grampians last year?) and a small hole had appeared in the floor. So after camping this year, we packed it up neatly into its bag (missing one wheel) and left it by the bin.

PS I'd like to point out that I always tell a cafe if they'd missed a coffee on the bill or if I think a business has undercharged me. In fact, the electrical mechanic told me he'd never had anyone call to check that he'd remembered to charge everything! So please don't think this is my usual behaviour!!

Karma

Sass is an enterprising thing. She and her friends have run a series of stalls at the front of the house selling, well, junk -  DVDs, 1980s 'jewellery' (what the heck was I hanging onto that for?), stationery, toys. Without any input from me, she also implemented some classic marketing tactics; the BOGOF (Buy One Get One Free) and GWP (Gift With Purchase). The latter was an outdated magazine.

They even worked out that if anyone asked what the movie on the DVD was like, if they said it was really good, they'd be more likely to get a sale - even if they'd not actually seen it. No wonder we people in advertising have such a bad rap!!

We live right near a cafe so they've actually managed to raise a reasonable amount of cash, not to mention getting rid of a heap of rubbish.

Ever the entrepreneur, she was trying to work out how the team could make money even when they were asleep. (Aren't we all??!) And here's what she came up with:

Wishing Well.

Where your 

dreams can 

come true!!

It has attracted quite a lot of attention. I've spotted people walking past and doing a double take - some even laughing out loud and then chucking in a coin.

I even had a very odd couple come and knock on the door to discuss it (and more so, them)  for a good 20 minutes before I could ease the door closed....

Anyway, someone's nicked it.

I think it must have been Saturday night. I don't recall seeing it when we got home but it was after 2am and I may have consumed at tad more of the bubbly stuff than's generally considered prudent... 

However, I did notice it was gone when I got back from my penance run late Sunday morning.

More annoying than the loss of what must have amounted to at least $4.35 was that they took my plastic container, god damn them, leaving me with yet another unmatched lid that's now just junk!!

We all know karma's a bitch so I'm guessing the small coffee that coin may have afforded them was crap!!

Kids in trouble.

The boarding school I went to is in trouble. Big trouble.

There were things that were going on before, during and after I was there that are heinous and now, along with many other institutions, it's all being exposed as part of the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse.

Dad asked me on the weekend if I knew any of the named staff, accused of, and in many cases charged with, paedophilia. In fact, one was my English teacher. Many others are also familiar.

I was recently recounting to some friends how when I was at school in the early 80s, serving students alcohol at a Sunday lunch or Saturday night dinner with a house or head master was just what happened. I know some of the boys were regularly offered alcohol by masters and tutors in the privacy of their study. And I distinctly recall cask wine being freely available to all who attended an evening woodwork exhibition. My, how things have changed.

Dad said there were paedophiles at his boarding school too, back in the mid 1940s, and we agreed that the exposure of events was a good thing.

There are those who hanker for a time gone by, when things were simpler and everyone was trustworthy - the police, the government, the church. But in truth, that's a fantasy. I subscribe to the idea that knowledge is power and being alert to what can happen is the better option.

The school is handling this crisis well. They probably have a good PR agency advising them on crisis management, but they're keeping up regular and frank communication, encouraging past students to speak to the Commission as well as offering free counselling.

I feel physically sick hearing of the helplessness of so many of the children, now adults, who have told their stories of being repeatedly subjected to cruel and predatory behaviour by those in authority. Not just at my school, but all of those institutions and varying government and religious persuasions  across the nation.

I was even more sickened to hear on the radio a couple of weeks ago, that there had been 46 reports of abuse of children in care in the preceding two weeks, here in Victoria. Yep, 46.

So it's not just a painful history, it's an everyday reality. To quote the Commissioner; 'There's still a lot of very sad children out there.'

Lost and Found

Sass and I popped down to the Post Office about 9.15 yesterday morning. On the way back, we spotted a couple of small boys, about 2 and 3, on push-along toys on the other side of busy Malvern Road.

Where's their mum? Sass asked.
I'm sure they're with someone, I said.

But on a scan on the vicinity, it was clear they were not. We crossed over to investigate.

Not this kid but about this age.

Where's your Mum? I asked.
Nothing.
Is someone with you?
Still nothing.

It was about then I noticed they were both naked from the waist down and only had long sleeved Ts or pyjama tops on. Ah-ha! Clearly, they'd abandoned their nappies and made a run for it as no parent would take babies out in weather of about 8 degrees with no pants and no shoes. Hmmmm.

Where do you live? Do you know where you live?
The older one gave up his street name. I'd thought they must be just a few houses away but boy - they had travelled some distance!

Sass and I started herding them back in the right direction. On the way up a quieter side street, I noticed we'd attracted the attention of an older couple.
We saw those boys, they said. We didn't know where they came from. Do you know where they live?

Seriously, this is the most gob-smacking part of the story. Yes, kids escape - it happens. But if you had seen two very small boys heading towards a busy, major road with trams and trucks and cars, would it not have occurred to you to stop them?? We'd found them a block away from this point and at any time they could have decided to roll out to cross over. Unbelievable.

No, I said. But we have a street name so we'll find it.

By this stage, the older one had warmed up and we got his and his brother's names. We even got a street number a little later. I had to carry the little one as we were moving quickly and his legs were tired - not to mention his feet bare and his bottom cold.

Eventually, we go them home where their mum had apparently gone to the gym, an older brother was asleep on the couch and dad in bed. They'd not even been missed - which might have been a good thing as no doubt panic would have ensued. So all ended well, but it might not have....

Mothering style; the perplexing question.

I did the quiz on FB and it says I'm an Affectionate Mother. Given the deep and meaningful questions - pick a colour, pick a type of fruit - I haven't put too much credence into that!

When the kids were little, a friend and I used to classify mothers as runner or non-runner. A runner was the mother who at the slightest stumble, abandoned the conversation and coffee and rushed to the child to provide comfort and cuddles.

We were firmly in the non-running camp.

'Can you see blood? Do I need to call an abulance? No? Then get up. You're fine.'

It may seem harsh but I witnessed kids who would actually cry louder once in their mother's embrace, inevitably attracting even more soothing and on occasion, I swear, I had smug eye contact from the perpetrator as I looked on with what must have been my 'disapproving face'.

Perhaps I'm just justifying my own approach! But where do we get our mothering style? It's a question I've been pondering.

My mother was a non-runner but another friend admits her style is almost the opposite to her 'smother'.

Does it come from our experience of our own mothers? That we innately replicate or reject? And did that come from their mothers? Has it evolved over hundreds of years and generations? Are there repeated patterns of hands-off and hands-on in each family? Or is it all our own and just built in?

 What do you think?

Pros & Cons of Being #4

I was reflecting today how disciplined we were with George and Jaz when they were little,. The routine was clockwork. The only time they knew as pre-schoolers was 'twenty past seven' which was either ten minutes until we left for creche if it was the morning or ten minutes until they were tucked up in bed if it was night.

And once tucked into their cosy little beds, that was it. They never got out. On occasion, they would call for room service, but on the whole, it was dinner, bath, book and bed. We even used to pop Enya on the portable CD player to get them off to sleep.

Then straight up at 6.30am to do it all again.

Oh how things have changed!

It started to slide a bit when Elle was born - she's 5 1/2 years younger than George - but on the whole, it was still pretty much on track.

But then Saskia arrived - a mere 12 1/2 years after George  - and that perfect pre-schooler routine was never located again. We did look. But even by three she was a reluctant participant. 'Why am I going to bed?' she'd complain, bewildered, as George, now 15, Jaz 13 and Elle 9 were all settling in for a bit of Australian Idol.  Yep - just wasn't happening. We'd still be trying to round her up at 9.30pm.

This year was our big year. She's now 7 and the only one at home. Surely we could get a routine going. And we have - sort of. She does go to bed between 7.30 and 8pm. But does tend to pop out several times if the mood takes her. It's a complete mystery to me now as to how I got the others to stay there. And I'm sure there wasn't any yelling involved either.

But it has been pointed out by Saskia's peers mothers that there are up-sides. She is incredibly articulate and usually pretty confident. She can also be extremely grown up for someone who's 7 and be very responsible with our young, pre-school neighbour.

I think you do ease up a bit as they go on and I hope there were pros and cons for all of them. But I am wondering if, like grand parenting, there should be some refresher courses for those of us who thought they'd just sneak in that last one before menopause. But at least tonight I did think to pop some music on - the iPod not the CD - and I haven't heard peep out of her!

All six of us circa 1855. (or 2006!)

Amercianisation

I often hear people complaining that Halloween is so American and why do we even recognising it here in Australia.

Well I for one am embracing it.

The sheer excitement it generates among the kids is just gorgeous, so where's the harm? Even businesses are getting in on the act. My Frankie won the prize at her work for dressing as an Awkward Silence. That's scary!

Our neighbours front gate.

When I was a kid we had Guy Fawkes Night, which was about the only thing I can compare it to. It was sooooo exciting. Not Christmas/birthday exciting, but getting together with other families, running around in dark with kids of all ages playing tiggy and hide and seek. Christmas is mostly family and birthdays your own peers, but Guy Fawkes Night was a free for all!

We had bonfires and fireworks of varying types - penny bangers, Catherine wheels, skyrockets. All the parents had a few (or many) drinks around the fire and Dad invariable burnt himself on one of the year's fancy new pyrotechnics. But it was all part of the fun.

And what happened? That's right, it was all deemed far too dangerous and was banned. Just like that. Party poopers.

So what have little kids got to get excited about now? Halloween!

Our front door - for the past week

And as my business partner Mandy and I tried to have a sensible conversation about our new website, she was herding six kids down the road trick and treating and I had eight under 8s at my front door that I was ladling lollies to. And did it matter? No! The kids - every one from two to teens - were out there having fun and meeting the neighbours. And for the sake a few cheap costumes (landfill, I concede) and too much sugar, it's just plain fun and what's the problem with that?

The aftermath at ur place....

The Mothers Who Work Party

Not sure who to vote for? No... me either. Pretty slim pickin's I reckon. So much so that I'm thinking of starting my own party. I've mapped out a couple of critical policies and am keen for input but here's what I'm thinking so far.

1. National Lice Week.
I am so utterly sick to death of lice that I'm going to introduce a week when all kids across the nation must be treated at least twice in that one week. Yes, there'll be companies and businesses who will not be happy with my plan to eradicate the little blighters, but seriously peeps, I have had enough!!!

2. Dog Poo Non-Picker-Upperers
The next person who leaves dog poo on my nature strip will have their nose rubbed in it.
I'll add your nature strip too if you vote for me.

3. Road Rage
Anyone being rude and brutish on the roads will be dragged before a panel of angry mothers and given a proper telling off. That'll fix them.

4. Pick Up After Yourself
It will be law that everyone needs to pick after themselves as they go along in life. Not wait until after school, the weekend, the holidays to put that cereal bowl in the dishwasher - you will do it, now!

5. Lower The Driving Age to 14
A friend of mine suggested this one years ago. So fed up was she with ferrying kids to sport and social events she pledged her vote to any political party that would reduce the age to get a licence to 15. I'm going even harder - 14. Sue Cummings, this one's for you!

6. Help Out
When I ask you to tidy the bathroom, leaving half the crap on the bench and saying it's your sister's doesn't cut it. I don't pull your clothes out of the washing machine before turning it on. Just do the job. In fact, I shouldn't even have to ask, but we'll overlook that for this election. Penalty for non compliance will be the confiscation of a mobile phone to an off-location site for one week. There is no flexibility in this law. One week.

7. Stop Whinging
7. a/ For evey kid who whinges that they're bored, in spite of 29 electronic gadets at their finger tips, a room full of toys, games, puzzles and books, a basketball ring in the backyard and a shed full of bikes, scooters and other sporting equipment - you will immediately be awarded an hour's gardening duty. Two if you complain.
7. b/ If you open the fridge or pantry, stare at the contents and proclaim that there's nothing to eat, you'll be on dinner duty for a week. Add supermarket shopping if you complain.

Yes there are big issues to consider in the upcoming election - asylum seekers, climate change, unemployment, the economy - but I'm getting straight to the nitty gritty of what's really going to make a difference in the lives of we working mothers.

Please do feel free to put forward your policy contributions and to join the party!

The Children of Thailand

I'm currently in Chiang Mai shooting content and TVCs (Television Commercials) for Five Tastes - and it's going really well. We've had a couple of ripper duos to take on the challenges we've set them. Please do follow it all on the Five Tastes Facebook page - and Like it while you're there.

But a real highlight has been the kids - they're just gorgeous! If I wasn't on HRT I'd seriously be contemplating number five.

Check out this little chicken. Her name is Faaaaaar (probably not, but that's what it sounded like). She was in a restaurant (I use that term loosely) on Soi 38 in Bangkok - where we'd settled ourselves as our duo, Brodie and Ash, manned the street cart over the road. She is looking very apprehensively at me and rightly so because when I said to her mother how gorgeous her daughter is, she jokingly said - via the interpreter - would I like to keep her? Funny for all of us but very disconcerting when you're not yet three. I used to say similar things when my kids were little - but I hope they were clear I was kidding.

Anyway, clearly Faaaaaaar warmed up a bit because she did sit on my knee for a short stint - but as directed by her mum.

Faaaaaaar and me.

And check out these Hmong girls - they are adorable! I posted a picture on Facebook and my friend Toni thought I should bring them home and we could have one each! Made even more appealing because not only are they beautiful, but they were just so friendly and a little bit cheeky as well. We first encountered the Hmong people in Laos about 18 months ago - and you can read all about their crazy courtship customs here.

Hmong girls at the temple in Chiang Mai.

The frogs we've encountered have not been so cute. I don't mind a critter but when Mandy and I tried to wrangle this little guy for a photo, he decided to try and make a leap for it taking us both by surprise. Not pretty - and I'm not talking about the frog!!!!

Mandy and I taken by surprise by the frog I just handed her.

PS: Yes - no proofing again - sorry.

The Plague

Me - looking for bugs on Sass

When we arrived in the States, we were required to fill out the above form. Can you make out question 11.(a)?
11. I am (We are) bringing 
(a) fruits, vegetables, plants, seeds, food, insects. 

Yep - bugs. Now you don't mess with US customs....and I was pretty darned sure we were bringing in insects as I looked closely at Sass's head. Hmmm. What to do, what to do...  In the end, I declared nothing.

And the little blighters are back - AGAIN! Elle was scratching too so we Googled the safety of filling a shower cap with Mortein and slapping in on her head. However, I read on the can that contact with skin should be avoided so was forced to abandon that brilliant idea.

What Elle's Google search of 'Is it bad to spray Morteen on hair for hed lice' (sic) revealed though, was Sydney Morning Herald article and forum that said 10% of all school aged kids have lice at any given point in time. In my experience, the concentration is heavily skewed to primary school.

The good news was, hair drying kills 55% of bugs and 98% eggs. They hate heat. A hair straightener fries eggs and bugs alike. The cheap conditioner and comb through does work. And finally, many contributors agree that the chemicals just don't work (perhaps Mortein does, sadly, we'll never know) - wondering if the lice have become immune.

Sass has been crawling into bed with Elle lately so she too has been itching. We tried a new remedy from the forum- olive oil and a few drops of tea tree oil mixed in. Apparently it smothers lice and eggs alike. She has hair as thick as a horses tail - and it seem to have worked a treat!

Meanwhile, Sass went off to school this morning with the straightest pony tail ever!

Any other ideas of ridding ourselves of this scourge will be gratefully received.

The New Gas Dryer

As you may (or may not!) recall, back in May I posted about the dodgy dryer. How dodgy? This dodgy...

Yes, that's duct tape holding that thing together. It still worked, but the door catch had broken and had to be taped at the exact right angle in order to function. Sadly, even once that had been achieved, a bit of steam and heat usually meant a shift of a couple of millimetres and it'd stop. All during two weeks of continual rain in Melbourne. I could have broken it apart with my bare hands it was driving me so crazy!!

I'm not a huge dryer fan. I'd rather the clothesline any day and resisted even owning one until a lot of kids, a plumber and Melbourne weather eventually got the better of me. 

So my wish list was simple; a sensor so the clothes wouldn't cook and to have it flued or a condenser so it'd stop fogging up the laundry. The plumber decided it needed to be gas - which of course was a special order.

Finally the day arrived, the call received, the gas dryer had arrived. But they sent the wrong flue. Twenty wet days later the right flue arrives and the plumber and his plumbing bro finally get a day to install it. There's no just plugging in and hitting 'start' with this appliance, no - that's be far too simple.  To be wall mounted, they needed to put extra timbers into the wall cavity, then replastered, then install the brackets, then mount the dryer, flue it into the ceiling and then out the roof. Some hours later and mission accomplished. Until.....

'MWW, can you just come in here please,' he calls. 'Can you reach that?' Hmmmm. I stand on tippy toes in ugh boots (house wear - not my 15cm heels of outwear) and can just touch the bottom of the cylinder. I'm not even close to the filter. 'I'll use a stool,' I offer, deadly seriously as I'm sick to death of wet washing all over the lounge room. 'No,' he insists, 'we'll change it'.

Some hours and some days later it's finally in. It's amazing! It dries a full load in about 25 minutes instead of the old electric one that could chug on for a good 90 minutes and still be soggy. And the plumber was pretty happy with his handy work!

A pair of Jimmy Choo's should bring joy, but compared to a dryer that works and spares me the lounge looking like a Chinese laundry (another great shoe brand FYI!) I'm thinking they could be compatible...

Thoughts?

STOP YELLING!!!

Have you ever found yourself screaming at the kids to stop shouting?? Only to realise you are now shouting?

I had dinner on Friday night with some mums I’ve know for 16 years. We laughed so hard I came home with a sore stomach.

It was reassuring to know that one of them, Julie, has also screamed at her kids so hard her throat has sustained injury. I have gone to work on more than one occasion with a throat that feels like I’ve just swallowed razor blades – not from a savage bacterial infection, but from hysterically yelling at the kids that I’m fed up, have had enough, am at my wits end, etc, etc – you know how it goes. (Don’t you??)

I admit, it is not a lovely start to the day. I’ve also pointed this out to the inciters/victims of my yelling. Maybe if they got up earlier, got themselves more organized, just got going in the morning, we’d all have a better start to the day. It’s exhausting. I’ve even asked them for their suggestions on how to avoid the morning chaos, but to no avail. It’s all promises, but no follow through. And the next morning we’re back to me, standing on the nature-strip and screaming like a banshee “Which part of ‘get in the car’ are you not understanding???!!”

Lord knows what the neighbours think.

So how are the mornings at your place? A relaxed and calm routine of serenity? Give me your tips, please!

The ultimate come back....

Kids can be very precocious at times, and if you’re anything like me, you do try and hold your tongue and not tell them what you’re really thinking because you know the therapy later in life will cost you dearly – financially and emotionally.

But sometimes it just slips out.

I was running one day and daughter two was riding her bike. Actually, it was a very pleasant afternoon and she wasn’t being precocious – for a change – so I don’t really know what inspired me.

We were stopped at the traffic lights and I asked for a drink from her water bottle. After taking a good gulp, I handed it back and she began furiously wiping the end on her T-shirt.

‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

‘I don’t want your germs,’ she said, in a reasonable tone.

‘I don’t know why you’re worried about that,’ I mumbled. ‘You came out of my vagina.’

Therapy, here we come…..