10 Things I Love about You

Lately I've been hearing a lot about dysfunctional families – families dotted with a history of abusive parents, addicted parents, single mothers, absentee fathers, and irresponsible carers, as well as immature guardians, screwed up kids, lonely, scared, neglected children, estranged relatives and all the unfortunate perpetrators and victims in between.

As a parent, it reminds me that I'm not doing so badly. I know how to care for my children, show them I love them, and be there for them. There are a million other things that I could be doing, for better or worse, but the fact is, my husband and I have got those three bases covered. And they’re the ones that count.

As a daughter, it reminds me that I'm truly blessed! When you've grown up as the youngest of five in a relatively stable and harmonious environment - not always perfect, but usually pretty good - it's easy to forget how blessed you are... until you hear the stories of others not so fortunate. It's easy to complain about your parents' shortcomings, past hurts you've blamed on them, and the irritating little quirks that they have. It's easy to forget to mention their wonderful attributes.

So without further ado, I present to you a list of awesome things about my Mum and Dad (who, coincidentally have been married for forty-five years!)

1. My Dad is 79, yet he completed a 28 km bike ride earlier this year - on rough terrain, on a less-than-ideal bike! It's my favourite boast at the moment.

2. My Mum loves to collect all the teddy bears from every nook and cranny of our home and set them up in one area so that she can photograph my daughters looking cute, surrounded by teddy bears of all shapes, ages and sizes.

3. Dad says 'Over!' whenever he's finished his conversation with me on the phone. It's as though he's on a walkie-talkie. That makes it more fun. I didn’t really think about how funny that was until I saw it being made into a joke on that pommy show starring Judi Dench...

4. Back when I was a TAFE student, my folks helped me move out of my student residence to live with friends in a private hovel. It didn't work out, so two weeks later, my folks returned to Ballarat, without complaint, to help me move back to the residence again. I'll never forget that.

5. Once when I was in primary school, Mum let me wag school so that we could go down to the main drag to see some kind of parade featuring Sue and Mike (or was it Neil?) who hosted a Bendigo-based cartoon show back then (Think the Punky Brewster animated series, He-Man, Jem and the Holograms - all the classics). My grade ended up going there too, and the teacher wanted to know why I was there, rather than home in bed, sick. I didn't care; I was happy, 'cause I was there with my Mum, not a bunch of primary school students and a teacher!

6. My folks volunteer their time and care to a multitude of charities and people - Meals on Wheels, visiting elderly folk in the ICU (who are probably younger than them at times!), Mum's work at the Op Shop, manning the gates at the show, etc etc.

7. When I took the girls to Swan Hill at the weekend, sans husband, my folks insisted on meeting us half way so that they could help us reach our destination with less stress. They did the same on the way back.

8. Dad used to shine my school shoes for me.

9. I've often made my Mum laugh so much that she and I have rolled around on the floor in tears, and she's had to run to the loo. (Sorry, Mum!)

10. Dad remembers the whackiest milestones and facts, such as: 'Ashy's 500 days old today!', 'Today is the longest day of the year!' and, 'this day two years ago, we were at your house!'

And that's just a few random beautiful things about my parents. That's barely scratching the surface. Wow. Jeez, I feel nice after that.

I highly recommend writing a list of ten positive attributes - whether it's about your parent/s, your dog, yourself, your worst enemy, whoever - and just enjoying the after-glow!

I just hope my girls will do a similar thing for me and Pete someday, and maybe acknowledge that we're not all bad! One can only hope, enjoy and love.

The Silent Predator

Someone needs to say something. This hidden and truly menacing epidemic needs to emerge from the darkness, and into the blinding light of truth. I can't keep it to myself any longer. That wouldn't be right. If I keep it secret one moment more, my conscience will surely be crushed. Someone needs to say something, and that someone must be me. I am here to break the silence. What silence, you ask?

The silence surrounding the lack of Pop Culture education for certain disadvantaged children - it’s an education that needs to begin at home. There, I said it!

I wholeheartedly advocate active play, outdoor adventures, the reading of books (like, to the max) and other such healthy activities for young children and big kids alike. I even appreciate the Steiner philosophy. Still, there's a worrying aspect to all of this when the absence of movies and TV threatens to create a Pop Culture Knowledge-Deficient Individual (PCKDI).

At worst, it's an insidious form of child abuse/neglect. It seems innocuous enough at first, but it creeps up on a vulnerable young person, making them susceptible to social awkwardness and embarrassing silences. The victim seems, at times, clueless, humourless and difficult for his or her peers to comprehend.

For example: you’re in another country, let’s say Ireland. You’re at an Irish (by default) pub, having a few Malibu’s and Cokes (‘cause Guiness is gross). You peer over your alcoholic beverage to see your ex, (who is meant to be out of sight, back home in Australia) enter the room. Naturally, you say, ‘Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, he walks into mine.’ How would you and your posse react if one you responded with: ‘Uh... this isn’t a gin joint, though. It’s a pub. And it’s not yours. It belongs to us all, really, when you think about it’?

I care not whether you have or haven’t seen Casablanca. All one needs to know is that it’s a famous quote from a famous movie, that’s all. It’s not a lot to ask.*

Just had a thought... imagine how the awkwardness would mount if someone else quipped, ‘I see Dead People’. The Pop Culture Dunce would flip!

Anyway, I digress. All I’m trying to say is that a youngster needs strong foundations in life. Research shows that the first seven years are the formative ones. That gives you seven years to get your child/niece/nephew/neighbour off to a good start. Now and then, simply snuggle up on the couch with said rug rat to view any of the following classic shows: Scooby Doo (and let's leave that irritating Scrappy Doo out of it), Care Bears or The Muppet Show. When they're a bit older, with a longer attention span, be sure to move on to movie greats such as Back to the Future, Adventures in Babysitting (aka A Night on the Town) or Star Wars. (Star Wars isn't one of my faves, but it just seems wrong for impressionable youth to struggle through life not knowing who Yoda, R2-D2 and C-3PO are.)

Think about your offspring's future. How awkward will said sprog feel when he or she partakes in some kind of Uni drinking game and unwittingly halts conversation when they ask, 'Who's Seth Rogen?' during a retro showing of Knocked Up? (Not that my kids will ever play drinking games, unless they consist of nothing more lethal than red cordial). It's even worse if their peers are reminiscing over the old days of being sat in front of Yo Gabba Gabba and Lazy Town as littl’uns, and all your ignorant darling can say is 'Uh... I partook in active play as a kid...'

I don't know of many kids who don't get enough screen time, but they are out there. The proper research hasn’t been conducted as yet, but there are those who desperately need to be rescued. I've heard Mums say 'We don't watch much TV', but I've gradually learned that that simply translates as 'We watch a whole shipload of DVD's and downloads'! The children of these Mums are not in any danger.

Still, who knows how many will be affected in future?

I enjoyed a reasonably healthy combination of playing outside in bare feet and memorising the scripts of one Punky Brewster as a child, while some others of my generation were unwittingly subjected to a debilitating pop culture deficiency. Get this: I know a woman who's never heard of Weird Al Yankovic. I'm aware of a bloke who possesses no knowledge of Castle Greyskull, let alone White Castle. There are rumours of an individual who has never seen an episode of Family Ties. A good friend of mine still hasn't seen Grease! It seems criminal. I wonder how she feels when the Grease Megamix fires up at a wedding and everyone except her goes ape shit. The loneliness must be palpable.

These PCKDI’s tend to ask ridiculous questions, like, ‘What’s a flux capacitor?’ and ‘Who’s Jem, and why is she truly outrageous?’  They squirm and try to change topic when flummoxed peers stare blankly at them, obviously feeling pity. It’s heartbreaking to witness.

So, if you are a parent, step-parent, teacher, aunt, uncle, friend-of-the family, carer or concerned onlooker, make sure to check in on a child or children, who you suspect may be at risk of becoming a casualty/casualties of Pop Culture Ignorance. Do it now, before it’s too late.

Before you laugh this warning off,  just consider the potential future repercussions - I will share a sad story with you: I know of one woman who only saw Dirty Dancing for the first time last year. She watched Patrick Swayze (rest his soul) sway, Jennifer Grey leap into said hunk’s arms, heard all the wonderful music, and probably consumed some good popcorn too. Still, she concluded that it was merely ‘okay’. Sadly, it was too late for her to appreciate the brilliance of the movie. Even now, whenever someone says, ‘Nobody puts Baby in the corner’, this poor woman utters something about leaving infants in inconspicuous areas, and everybody leaves the room, pretending they didn’t hear her.

This woman is a friend of mine. Imagine how hard that is for me to think about, let alone share with you.

There is hope, however. You can break the chain of ignorance – show a shorty an episode of Shera: Princess of Power and go from there. It’s the first step...

*Just for the record, I have seen Casablanca. It’s a great movie. You should see it. Then you can quote it with authority. Just sayin’.

Sleep, Glorious Sleep

It's really happening. The fog has lifted, and the once-distant oasis in the desert is now within my sweaty grasp. Or at least, my sleep-deprived mind would like to believe. How does one grasp an oasis anyway? A question for another time...

It's been over a year since I updated this blog. I was heavily pregnant with my second child back in those heady days, so now I am busy looking after two gorgeous little girls, Sienna and Ashley. Hence, I am not heavily pregnant anymore - huzzah! Seems having two kids is more time-consuming than one in the lounge room watching ABC for Kids, and one in the tum, though! Baby Ashy turned one on the last day of July, and yes it has gone quickly. I am glad she's one now. I don't care what anyone says, in my experience so far, it only gets easier as they grow older. Sienna turned three in April and is more adoring than jealous of her little sister these days. That helps, as does the gradual disappearance of excrement-soaked onesies, spew-encrusted outfits (mine) and chewed up nipples (also mine).

I'm working two days a week now, on switchboard. It was a novelty for a while now; a nice change of scenery - something different to parenting. It's losing its shine now though. It gives me time to update my blog (ie. type this in an email and transfer to blog), but that's about it. Agh, just not my best day today. My switch buddy has taken a day off and there's not really anyone to talk to that much. People wax on about work being a place for Mums to have some adult conversation, but there doesn't seem to be any conversation at all, let alone a grown up one. I can't even get anyone to email me. It used to be a sociable place to work. Now I'm just doing my best to keep my eyes open. Must remind myself: no nappies to change while I'm here. No crying to listen to, no whingeing to put up with. Well... the latter two are debatable, but yes. I must enjoy the 'break'.
Anyway, my point is that my switch buddy, when she was here yesterday, was talking about how she's about to enjoy a long weekend, complete with sleep-ins. Me, hoping to live vicariously, was begging for details: 'How late will you sleep in? When you do get up, will you laze about for a fair while, how comfy are your pyjamas? etc, etc'. It would be my version of Fifty Shades of Grey, entitled Fifty Unadulterated, Thoroughly Detailed Musings About Sleeping In. But she just shrugged and uttered, 'I dunno'. Obviously doesn't understand the beauty and freedom in it. Doesn't get that I need to pepper my imagination with the unbridled, unrealistic fantasy of it all. And I'm referring to someone who's living with a bloke who has three sons in a shared care set up, where he gets the bigger share of the care! Like drawing blood from a stone, it is.
What about you? Had any decent sleep ins lately? Tell me all the gory details. I could be tempted to pay by the minute. My best story of late, is that I got to sleep in until 7.40am the other day, and I also had a nap later, as my lovely Mum had come all the way from Swan Hill, happily enduring train and coach, to help me look after the girls 'cause I felt crook. It was wonderful. It was a dream come true, in fact. It was bloggable, even. At least, I thought so.

Don't you worry, I've got lofty ambitions. One day I'm going to sleep in until nine-thirty. Just you wait and see. I shall grasp that oasis with both sweaty hands.

Stupid Things People Say

Stupid things people say

‘It must be good to stay home and look after sick children instead of coming in to work’

It’s incredibly wonderful if you don’t have any kind of work ethic. It’s the bomb if you enjoy caring for sick children, who are crying, snotting and pooping soft-serve yellow goop. It’s better than a day at Luna Park if you like seeing your offspring feeling poorly. It’s marvellous if you have no qualms about leaving sick children to fend for themselves while you indulge in a session of ‘Singstar’. Maybe I believed this with all of my ignorant heart prior to producing infants, and if so, it was friggin’ stupid of me.

‘Buffy is a kids’ show, with no depth whatsoever.’

That’s code for ‘I am a kids’ show, with no depth whatsoever’! Look beyond the surface before spitting out such ignorant venom, people! Joss Whedon’s genius knows no bounds, and if you don’t get that, you’re not only saying something stupid, but you’re missing out. Big time. It may be a little dated now, but if it weren’t for Buffy, you wouldn’t have all of your sub-par vampire soapies, dreamed up by morons who saw dollar signs when they realised there was a supernatural bandwagon to jump on.

‘I was literally at the end of my tether’

There seems to be an abundance of individuals who don't understand what ‘literally’ means. In fact, they obviously think it means the opposite of what it really is – it would make more sense to say, ‘I was figuratively at the end of my tether’. Because if you’re literally at the end of your tether, then tell me this: what’s a tether? And how did you find yourself propped on its end? This sort of things seems to be uttered by people who should know better, such as journalists and teachers. The same people who say stuff like, ‘I seen him when I returned back at 5am in the morning. Literally. Just arks anyone.’ Another reason why home schooling may not be as crazy as it seems...

Musicals are so dumb. Why do they have to darn well sing about everything?

People who say this sort of thing are no fun. Instead of saying, ‘Why walk when you could dance?’ their motto must be something like, ‘Why write a poem when you could write a shopping list? Why reach for the stars when you could reach for the economy pack of light globes on the top shelf?’
It’s these sorts who end up not Singin’ in the Rain, but whingeing about wet frizzy hair and torn dungarees in the rain. Maybe it’s not a stupid thing to say, but it’s definitely offensive to one’s right to indulge in a break from mind-numbing un-choreographed reality.

You need to eat more, why don’t you eat?

I’ve had people ask me this as they watch me down a hamburger with the lot, a giant thickshake, two milo bars and a partridge in a pear tree – all because I have a propensity to be on the slender side. One high school frenemy witnessed such a feast and haughtily concluded to all and sundry that I must be vomiting said feast up afterwards.  It’s been suggested that I am not a real woman, because I don’t boast dangerous curves. It’s even been hinted that I’m being skinny on purpose to make others feel rotten. Hmmm, if I’m that devious and clever, then I might magically become a millionaire overnight and not share any of the dosh. That would be a much more enjoyable way of pissing people off. And guess what? Breast feeding makes some of us a bit too thin!

You’re just using those big words to make me feel stupid

Funny, this is kind of like the body shape thing. Unlike my natural thinness though, I am not naturally a wordsmith. It’s more that I have a passion for words and building upon my vocabulary. I love to read and I’d die a happy woman if I could get paid to write (and see my daughters grow up to be happy, independent, well-adjusted, resilient and kind individuals, of course) – so why do I need to hold back, just because you don’t enjoy the same things I do? I don’t think I’m overdoing it. I didn’t indulge in a thesaurus along with my hamburger with the lot, but I do enjoy the almost poetic feeling of stringing an effective collection of word beads together to make a beautiful sentence necklace. My jewellery metaphor proves I have much more to learn. So don’t knock me for that – just deal with the corollary of your austere existence, and permit my erudition to burgeon, at least sparodically.