Helicopter Christmas

In the lead up to Christmas Henry had told us that he wanted Santa to bring him a Fireman's costume, a fire helmet and a fire hose. Santa searched high and low for those things and found them all. At the last minute Santa also decided to get Henry a toy replica of Tom's Helicopter from his favourite show - Fireman Sam. Once that was opened everything else was forgotten about. He went through the actions of tearing paper off presents but wasn't really interested in anything underneath it. The only thing he truly loved was the helicopter.

He woke late because we'd been out late on Christmas Eve at my parents house. Maya insisted on sleeping in his room beside him so that she would be awake when he woke up but she was up a long time before he was. She kept prodding him and poking him in the hope that she would get him up.

My sisters had called at around 7AM hoping they'd get here in time to see Henry wake up and see what Santa had brought him. He slept until almost 8AM and then took a few minutes to take it all in. He looked around the room, spotted his santa sack full of toys and said "oh, is that for me?" and then set about tearing the paper off whatever was in it.

We spent Christmas Eve at my mum's house and had, of course, a very special and delicious three course meal prepared exclusively by her. My family joined us for Christmas Day at my house. We ate, we drank champage, we played cricket in the park across the road and then played some more board games until late in the evening.

All of us scored this Christmas, especially Henry and Maya.

We hope yours was joyful, peaceful and rowdy all at the same time.

It's that time

Henry just woke up at 8.30PM after four hours sleep. When I mentioned how tired I was and that I was looking forward to going to bed he told me...
"Mum, you can't go to bed until 20 past a clock ago".

I guess that means I won't be going to bed any time soon.

Do they know it's Christmas

This is the first year Henry has really been aware of Christmas and that awareness is awesome. It's incredibly joyful to be seeing it through his eyes for the first time but I'm not sure if it's just me but things seem to have much more of a Christmas bent this year. Homes in the streets around our house have suddenly gone all out with the Christmas lighting, people are playing carols at night and there's Christmas everywhere.

It's nice. I love it.

What is very pleasant is that it's not ridiculously hot. We can still breathe and take walks and eat and have conversations comfortably. Normally at this time of the year people are exhausted from the heat and the humidity. They're normally grumpy and find it hard to open their mouths to say hello because if they do they'll use up some of the precious energy they need to keep them alive in the heat.

Last night my mother and stepfather came to collect us to drive us all over town to look at the lights of the suburban houses. We came across one street in which every house had done their bit. It was like a fairyland. There were sausage sizzles to raise money for local charities, people milling around everywhere, kids laughing and bus loads of retirees driving by to check it all out. I would love to live in that street. One little girl told me that people had been asking if there were any houses for sale. Obviously everyone wanted to get in on the spirit.

Because we're finding it so exciting we've decided to host Christmas Day at our house. Of course while one side of my brain was thinking about the nice parts the other was thinking about the work required. I decided there will be no food served that requires cooking. It's going to be cold meat, salads, prawns and oodles of champagne.

Henry is very excited about Santa's visit and would like him to bring a Fireman's costume, a fire hose and Tom's Helicopter (from Fireman Sam). Fortunately Santa was able to find most of those things and more.

It's Christmas Time in the City

This year Myer's display is based on Graeme Base's book, Uno's Garden. I am not familiar with this book but am with many of his others. The display was very artistically clever and colourful but it wasn't christmassy in any way. In fact the city was decidedly lacking in Christmas spirit. If it weren't for the odd fairy lights strung up in the shops and the giant Christmas tree it could have been any other time of the year.

The thrill for Henry was the ride into the city and home on the train.

Firefighter Ablutions

Henry: Mum, does Fireman Sam have a doody?

Me: Yes he does. He's a boy just like you

Henry: But he doesn't go to the toilet?

Me: He does. just like you do

Henry: But he doesn't have a toilet at the Fire Station

Me: Doesn't he?

Henry: No, he had to go and buy one at the shop.

Doin' The Lips

This is what happens when you let your children loose with a digital camera. They band together and against you. They become facial contortionists behind your back. They conspire against you and get along with each other. Maybe I should let them have the camera more often.

They call this pose "The Lips" even though they didn't manage to get a photo of themselves both pouting their lips at the same time.

Our New Toy

Check it out! This new toy arrived yesterday. It's a gift from Ben's mother in the U. S. of A. and it is totally cool! It's a video phone and comes with a US telephone number. Now we can keep in touch with her and other family members in the States by calling them as though we were right next door. No need to dail a country code or anything. We simply pick it up and dial her number direct and Voila! We can even see each other. Because it comes with a US number we would need to call our neighbours in Australia by dialling the Australian country code first. What we can do though is easily order pizza's for everyone in the states for the cost of a local call. Kind of! We'll test it out for its prank factor later and report back. Until then Henry and Grandma can see each other each time they speak now. Henry's already shown her his Fireman Sam truck and told her all about what Santa is going to bring him.

Meeting my old T-shirts

Today I caught up with some friends of mine. People I used to work with. Some of the nicest, funniest and most interesting people I've had the pleasure of knowing. It was like slipping back into a favourite T-shirt, one that you thought you'd lost but found again lying under the bed in amongst the dust.

We visited an old favourite lunching haunt. A vietnamese restaurant in the Valley, aptly named The Vietnamese. The food is cheap but good. The company was comfortable, the conversation and laughs flowed easily...all that without a drop of booze!

As I get older I have less of a social life but I also find it harder to meet people I feel a connection with. Maybe it's just me but I find it harder to meet kind, friendly and patient people. Everyone is in a rush (including me), time poor (including me) and more interested in the size of their mortgage and investment portfolio than they are in the people that live within their community. So it was so nice today to meet with the people that used to make me laugh until my sides hurt - and still do. It was great to hear about their latest projects, their dreams and aspirations and their everyday struggles. We were a mixed bunch but we were a great team. Respectful of each other but at the same time comfortable enough to tell each other where to get off.

It's dates like these that restore my faith. That remind me that people do still have fun, that they care about each other and still find life interesting and challenging.

I must do more of it. I'm as guilty of the next person of not making an effort. My new year's resolutions list will be long and maybe some of them will get shot down before they get started because they'll be impossible to keep but I feel happy enough today to start the list.

FOUR doors!

So we have a new second hand car. Picked it up Thursday night. I can't tell you how nice it is. The move to four doors was worth every dollar the bank paid for it. I don't have photos yet because I haven't taken any but it's white and in case I haven't mentioned it already it has four doors. I've counted them several times to make sure I'm not dreaming. FOUR doors. That means no more back pain trying to heave Henry in and out of his seat in the back. No more slamming back of the front seat in order to just get to the back seat. I would talk about the other features but they pale in comparison to the fact that it has FOUR doors. Alright... I will anyway. It has one of those cute little buttons that you can press to lock and unlock the doors. Handy but not as handy as having FOUR doors. It's also a lot more comfortable to drive and ride in.

When I bought our old car there was only Maya and me so it was no big deal. The family was extended to three when Ben arrived on the scene and then four when Henry made his entrance into the world. We wanted to buy a bigger car when Henry was born but we just couldn't afford it. We put up with it and then bought a cheap volvo from our friend who moved to NZ. We got our money worth out of that car and then it just kind of started to cost too much money to repair so we ditched it. We then bought another cheap car from some other friends who moved to France but it isn't roomy. Ben drives that around and loves it. It's by no means a car for a family of four though. As Henry got bigger and heavier we kept talking about buying a bigger car but never got around to doing anything about it. Eventually I'd had enough. I could no longer take the two doors. It was time to upgrade.

We narrowed down our options with the help of a book called the dog and lemon guide to cars. If ever you're considering buying a car I recommend you invest $20 and read it. With the help of that book we decided we wanted a Toyota Camry or Corolla. We already knew we wanted only 4 cylinders, a car that was cheap to run and maintain and would last a lifetime, and was considered relatively safe. The Dog and Lemon Guide helped us by recommending highly the Camry or Corolla. Next came the price. We had originally decided we really only wanted to spend $10 000 but because those cars hold their value so well we were looking at a car that was as old as the one we already had. Seemed a bit stupid if we were to really go for something that was going to last. We decided to go higher. We ended up with a 2004 Corolla with only 30 000klms on the clock. It is immaculate. Looks like it's never been driven. It was owned by a guy and his wife who were pedantic about keeping it clean and tidy. It still smells new.

So now we're driving in style. It's no longer a chore for me to get in the car and do stuff. At first Henry was a little dubious. He didn't want a new car. He kept saying "No Mama, we need our old little car". When we picked it up he refused to ride in it and insisted on travelling home in the old car. The following day however, lured by the button pressing locks he was convinced that the new car was indeed a beauty.

Maya wanted to be delivered to school in it. On the way I drove right by Henry's daycare and he told me I'd forgotten to drop him off. I told him that I hadn't and would do it as soon as I had dropped Maya off as she wanted me to take her to school in it. "No she doesn't, Henry wants to go to school in the new car" is what he told me. Unfortunately he now thinks he's king in it and won't allow anyone to touch anything in it unless he gives the go ahead. If we adjust the radio he's like "No. Don't touch that. That's the new car radio"!

I know the excitement will wear off in time but for now. We're lovin' it!

My Girl & Her Friend

Ah to be this young again and so excited about attending a school dance. I was such a very proud Mama.

She's more excited than I am about the new car we picked up last night. Woo Hoo! And in the words of Homer Simpson in regards to our new found luxuriousness "From now on we'll be spelling everything with letters"!

Doing What Kids Should (mine at least)

Making mud pies while the cow lingers around hoping they're going to turn into Weet Bix.

I will survive

You know it's been a bad couple of days when you try to go shopping for a birthday present for your husband whose birthday happens to be today and when you get to the shopping centre the first person you lay eyes on happens to be the police officer who charged you with shoplifting two years ago.

We've been trying to buy a new car and for all intents and purposes we've bought one. The bank has agreed to loan us the money but they're a long time coming forward with the dollars. We're anxious and very much looking forward to having a car with four doors because a car with two doors is only fit for a Barbie doll who gets put into and out of it by a much larger human being. So the week has been so far taken up with trying to sort that out.

Yesterday when I arrived to collect Henry from daycare he came walking over to me very slowly which in itself is unusual. He normally bounds into my arms and wraps his arms around my neck as though he hasn't seen me in months. I took one look at his pale, bluish face and knew instantly something wasn't right. The ladies there told me he had been very quiet for some time and had been complaining of a headache. I held back from screaming at them that they should have called me earlier and the fact that Henry was sitting quiety should have rung alarm bells for them. He NEVER does that.
I picked him up and he was limp and appeared to be gasping for breath. I didn't wait around to hear their explanations. I got him into the car and drove straight to the doctor. They agreed to see him straight away but we still had a few moments to wait. I sat him on the chair and he flopped down into it. His lips started turning blue. He still appeared to be gasping for air. I tried to remain calm and refrain from screaming that someone had to call an ambulance. The receptionist showed me to a room and we waited for a few more minutes before the doctor came. He sat on my lap so quietly. He was clammy and grey. Then he threw up. The doctor came and checked him over and decided he probably had a tummy bug. He seemed to pick up a bit after he got whatever it was in his system that didn't agree with him out.

By the time we got home he was almost back to normal. He wanted food and drinks and his colour had returned. He went to bed reasonably early and had an uneventful night until he woke up to vomit again at 5AM. He's been fine ever since. If it was a tummy bug it seems to have been short lived.

Poor Ben had to wake up to a distinct lack of birthday gifts this morning because I simply haven't had a chance to get to the shops to find something. Feeling bad and noting that Henry seemed fine I decided to take a chance on taking him to the shops with me to get something. Taking Henry to the shops is sometimes akin to deliberately grating my knuckles on the cheesegrater. It's painful and useless. I told myself it wouldn't take long, we'd just duck in and come straight back out.

Despite my promise never to go there again after being charged with shoplifting when I unknowlingly walked out of the store with $4.00 worth of children's undies hanging on the side of the pram, I headed directly to Myareyouashoplifter because I thought I would find more of a range of gifts all in the one location.

As I walked in the door a saleslady hawking beds that were drastically marked down bailed me up in an attempt to have me lie on one in order to convince me that my chiropractic problems would be solved just by handing over a store card. While she was doing so Henry decided to slip away while he had the chance. I didn't even notice him do it. I turned to grab his hand but he wasn't there. As we were close to the Thomas the Tank ride I thought he must have headed directly to that. I wasn't concerned because that's what he always does. I had to cut the saleslady off short and while she was mid sentence I just took off in search of him. When I got there and he wasn't there I immediately started to panic. I started running up and down the centre calling out his name. I knocked people out of my way and ran in and out of shops in the hope he was in one of them. I rode down the escalator wondering if he'd gone out into the carpark. As I was about to concede defeat and head for security I saw him with two ladies. He was crying his eyes out as he realised he was lost. They were looking around searchingly but with a look on their face that said "what kind of mother loses her kid in a shopping centre". I guess I can't blame them for thinking that as Henry was still in his pyjamas because they're his favourites and he didn't want to take them off to go shopping. He thinks he looks very cool in them. I didn't care. I just needed to go to the shops and didn't have the time for arguing. When he saw me he came running towards me and grabbed hold of my legs. I waved to the two women he had been standing with and they responded with a scowl. I deserved it I guess but they are probably the kind of mothers who are able to bake a batch of cookies at the same time as braiding their daughter's hair and ironing their husband's underpants.

So with that little drama sorted I headed back to Myareyouashoplifter. I had Henry in my arms who was screaming in protest at having to be confined. As I walked in the door this time the police officer was walking directly towards me. We locked eyes. I stared my most Ugly Mean Trailer Trash Woman stare while Henry was doing his best to escape my clutches and yelling "Mum, I don't like it!" at the fact that I was holding him so tight. "Great" I thought. "Not only have I almost lost my child this morning, I've also run across Little Miss Chargey Pants in the same place I was caught unknowingly thieving. And my son is screaming at me as though I've been torturing him". I wondered if the day could possibly get any worse.

It took us about 45 mintues to get to the section of the store that I wanted because in their desperate bid to cash in on the Christmas spending they've strategically placed all manner of sparkling, colourful, glittering eye candy that children just love to poke and yank.

We finally got where we needed to be, quickly grabbed the first thing off the shelf we could find, took it to the counter, paid and proceeded to leave. Of course it's never that easy. On our way out Henry heard and spotted the Christmas shop that is full of North Pole Express trains running around Christmas Tree displays. Not wanting to make a scene and have him throw a fit right there in the menswear department where lovely home making ladies were talking to sales people about having a tailor take up pants for their husbands, I caved in and took him to see all the thousands of Santas riding the express and hanging from fake tree branches. He ooed and aahhed and would have stayed there for hours had I not bribed him away with the promise of a treat.

We went to lunch, I managed to get him to sit quietly and eat for about 15 minutes then decided I'd try to get him a haircut at the Barber before we left. This particular Barber doesn't take appointments and because they're so popular you just line up like you're in a cattle chute wait to be released. The line up didn't seem too long so I decided to risk it. His hair resembled an electrocuted cat and I didn't want to take him public anymore like that because that, combined with his pyjamas, was making me look like a bad mama. We sat down on a bench and waited. Problem was we happened to be sitting right next to a sour faced old Granny who wore painted-on eyebrows and pursed lips. As we approached she clutched her handbag to her and turned around and gave Henry, who was jumping on and off the chair, a death stare. She then turned to me and said "I don't like what Julie did to my hair today. Next time I'll tell her to give me my old colour back. She didn't even ask me, just did it". She looked like she was about to burst into tears. I almost felt sorry for her until she said "I'm glad that kid is yours and not mine. I don't know how you cope with him". All my protective instincts came into play and I simply said "I cope because I love him". She then started to tell me her husband had left her there waiting for over an hour. She had no idea where he was and he had never left her that long before. I also heard about how she has no time for her grandkids and great grandkids. I really felt sorry for her then because I realised how lonely and sad her life must be.

We finally got called into the hair dresser and while I won't say Henry was co-operative he at least didn't keep trying to escape from the chair this time. Job done. It was time to head home and by this stage he was happy to go without complaint. He came home and fell asleep and I decided that I'd upload all the recent photos from the camera to the computer and update my blog. Of course nothing ever goes smoothly and for some reason the computer won't recognise the camera which is why I have no new photos to show you...

Now, I'm going to call a mental health helpline...

Memory

It seemed to happen in just one small moment. One minute I was childless, the next I wasn't. In that moment it seems I lost all memory of what my life was like before the breathing, squirming bundle of baby was placed in my arms.

I had no expectations of what my life might be like once I became a mother. I'd been a nanny, taken care of my nephew and spent lots of time with small children but I knew that would never be preparation enough for what was to come. I don't think anything can prepare you for it. The beautiful child you bring into the world becomes solely your responsiblity once it's handed over to your care. You leave the hospital on a high like you've never known before. You don't yet know that you're still going to be able to love that baby like you've never loved anything else, even when it's been screaming for days on end and you've not slept for what feels like weeks.

Today while sitting in the doctor's surgery yet again with Henry, a young couple came in with a baby that seemed to be only days old. The father held that baby so lovingly and so gently that it almost made me cry. Its mother moved slowly, as though someone had sapped the life right out of her. She managed to manouveur herself over to the reception desk and gave her particulars. She then slowly made her way back to take a seat beside her husband and child. She slumped down in her chair, leaned forward and put her face in her hands. I wondered if she were about to start sobbing. She looked up, leaned back, raised her head and stared into space. The baby started to fuss beside her in its father's arms. The mother moved her head sideways to glance in its general direction. She seemed so tired, almost like she didn't even have the strength to care. She looked defeated - as though having given birth to the child had zapped every ounce of energy she had.

Someone else in the waiting room asked how old the baby was. The father said the baby was five days. The mother gave a halfhearted grin in response because that's all she could muster. She then went back to staring into space.

That got me to thinking about the transition to parenthood and the emotional and physical roller coaster that it is. The expectations that are placed on us that were never there before. The demands that such a small helpless, dependent human can bring when we haven't been fully prepared for it. The overwhelming need to protect and nuture, love and guide another when you haven't yet learned how to do these things for yourself.

Most parents I know, including myself, long for a break, if even just for an hour, of the demands of their small children but when they get them they just wish their children were there with them. This is what they do to us. They tire us out but the idea of life without them seems stupid and wasteful and selfish. No wonder they bring with them a memory eraser.

The Age of Beep

What is it with appliances that continue to beep at you until you pay them some attention? They're worse than nagging children. My microwave oven just won't let up after it's finished heating my food to a fireball until I fetch whatever it is I put in there. Does it think I'm going to forget that I was starving? The intermittent beep beep drives me nuts. I've scanned the manual that came with it to see if there is some way I can turn this off but it appears that I'm stuck with it. I now think twice before placing anythng in it but when I do I feel like giving it a good stern talking to just like I do to Henry, Maya and my husband. I want to tell it that if I don't respond immediately it's because I've been distracted by the need to pee or answer the phone or wipe up a major ice cream spill. I want to ask it to please be patient because I won't forget that I stuck an exploding potato into it.

I find myself wanting to go over there and unplug the thing and hurl it out the window. Ben obviously feels the same way because he's been known to slam his fingers on the door release so hard that it almost breaks the springs. Maya and Henry, well they just wait until someone else prepares their food and places it in their lap.

I am fortunate enough to have a non-electronic version of washing machine but I have friends and relatives who do. Those things do the same thing. The constant beep beep that reminds you your washing has finished and you should be paying attention to your housekeeping duties more closely has been known to drive them insane also.

Is it just that the electronic age uses this option because they can or do they truly believe it's an added "feature" that everyone wants? Why don't they just make them sing a pre-recorded message that says something like "hey stupid, you who believes that your life is so much better off with me, why don't you get off your fat butt and get over here and deal with me. Go on. I dare you

When you should be something else

Henry has always showered with us since he was a baby because we don't have a bathtub. Last night while getting in the shower Henry noted something...

H: Mum, you don't have a doody.

Me: No, I don't. That's because I'm a girl.

H: Well, we'll have to get you one.

Me: Where would we get one from?

H: From the doody shop. We'll get one next time we go there.

Juggling

Henry has recently taken a liking to the computer, or concuter as he calls it. He likes to look at the Curious George website which has all kinds of fascinating games on it. The fruit juggling game is his favourite but the hardest for him to play because he hasn't quite yet learned how to count as well as George. He's hooked on the idea of juggling however and is always looking for things to juggle. He especially likes fruit but juggling real fruit is messy and expensive so this morning I gave him some onions. It was 5.30AM. I wasn't quite feeling alive yet but Henry wanted to juggle and no amount of explaining to him that my eyes were not yet fully open was going to deter him.

Trying to teach a kid to juggle is really hard. I can only juggle two objects with my hands at a time myself. Notice that I said objects and hands because I am quite capable of juggling three million things at once in my mind. But mind juggling doesn't count. My kid can't see what's going on in my head.

So at 5.45AM we were standing in the kitchen with three onions and a muesli bar attempting to juggle. I was unsuccessful and it was frustrating Henry because I couldn't keep them in the air like George does. I gave the onions to him and turned my attention to the kettle. As I did so I was hit in the head with a flying onion. I turned around to find Henry about ready to hike another heavenwards, in the direction of the lightbulb. "Stop" I yelled. You're going to break something. For some reason this caused Henry to double over laughing and ....well suggestion is a powerful thing. The remaining onions were all hurled at lightning speed towards the lightbulb. Fortunately they all missed and crashed to the floor with a terrible thud.

I thought it was about time I paid some attention and tried to explain to Henry, who is only three, how juggling works. I didn't know how to do it. The only words coming from my mouth were - "you have to thing the thing in the air and then the thing passes to the other hand while you thing the other thing..."

Not very succinct. I didn't go anywhere near trying to explain how juggling works. I thought about googling it to see if I could find out if someone else in the world had committed words to screen on the art of juggling. I didn't. Henry became more frustrated by the minute and walked away to watch Curious George doing it for real.

I sat on the floor and cradled my cup of tea and thought about how frustrating raising a child is. Why do they want to know how juggling works at 5.30AM? More importantly why couldn't I come up with a reasonable explanation. I told myself it was because it was only 5.30AM and no sane person would even care about juggling at that hour let alone be trying to explain how it works to a three year old. But...all day I've thought about ways in which I could explain how juggling works to Henry. It won't leave me alone. I'm obsessed, not with juggling but with explaining stuff to my kid and doing it in a way that makes me sound like I almost know what I'm talking about.

Dreaming

My friend Mel left a comment on my last post. She was hoping I was feeling better. I was going to reply to her comment and say yes indeed I was but I woke up this morning feeling like I am dying from something that can kill me. I've been battling my usual springtime sinus infection which invariably leads to my chest but now on top of that I seem to either have another sinus infection or the head cold from hell. It's almost impossible to breathe through my nose. I think there's enough snot in it to fill a vegemite jar which I could then take to work to show to my work mates. I'll tell them I'm conducting a science experiment. Just like I used to at school. That ought to make them pleased I came into work.

The good news is Henry's ears appear to be clearing. Dr Helen took a look at them yesterday and said they were indeed improving. She agreed with me about holding off on surgery unless it was absolutely warranted. I felt a whole lot better after that. Well that was up until I had to go to the supermarket with Henry in tow on the way home.

When I collected Henry from daycare yesterday afternoon he was all alone outside the office of his teacher while all the other children were playing happily in the playground. I asked him what was wrong and he said "I was pushing my friends around and I didn't do what Charmaine said". At least he was forthright about it. I spoke to Charmaine who said she'd given him two warnings and when he didn't listen the third time she took him with her away from the other children for some time out. I found this time out thing a little unusual given that the other naughty child in their group, who carries a dagger to daycare, receives no punishment or time out for his bad behaviour. Maybe because he's special and has ODD (Optional Defiance Disorder). A child who threatens a teacher with a chair is best left alone to do what he likes.

Anyway I had always told Charmaine that I wanted her to use time out for Henry at daycare when he misbehaves as that's what we use at home and it seems to be most effective. So she did. I don't know if some kid had slipped Henry some stimulant drugs in the playground but he was suddenly ODD as well. He loves Doctor Helen and so is always very polite and charming with her but the minute we left there and headed for the supermarket he became the child every parent dreads. By the time we got to the checkout I was ready to chain him to the bike rack outside the doors while I paid for the groceries. He was driving me nuts. I began to wonder if he'd eaten a bag of sugar while I wasn't looking. The young girl at the checkout, who seemed not yet old enough to understand the word "children" let alone be serving at the checkout, glared at Henry while packing my groceries as if she were staring straight into the eyes of hell.

So it took some serious behavioural intervention when we got home to get him to settle down but he eventually did. By then I was almost dead and could feel my head cold getting worse by the second. I went to bed and tried to fall asleep so that I could dream that I would wake up in a new life.

Give me a pin

Sometimes it feel like things just get too much. When things don't go according to plan for a few weeks in a row I feel like I'm stuck inside an expanding bubble that's building momentum as it rolls down a steep hill. All I can hope for is that it jags on an abandoned stiletto and bursts.

The last few weeks have been like that for me. Yesterday was the day I felt the bubble had rolled long enough but I didn't stumble across any abandoned stilettos. To top of a few weeks of frustration I walk into the surgery of a specialist doctor I've been seeing at three monthly intervals for the past two and a half years and he says I don't really remember you and I should because your case is very interesting. I think my jaw nearly hit the floor. This was the supposed guru I had been told by everyone was the man to see, the person who recently told me to spend two days in the hospital so they could try to work out what was going on, the person who each time I have visited has asked me to retell my story. The last few times I did that I thought it was simply because he wanted an update. When he told me he didn't remember me I thought I was going to have to stand up and bash him stupid with my handbag. I was that frustrated. Mind you I was feeling a little fragile even before I arrived but I think I was justified in my anger.

So I ask him to check his files to refresh his memory. He tells me that would take too long and he wouldn't be able to find everything he needed in a hurry. I offer no response and just stare at him. He starts yawning. By now I've resigned myself to the fact that this visit, like all the others, is a complete waste of time and decide to remain silent. I won't offer anything. If he can't look through his files I can't help him. He talks about stuff I already knew. I walk out no wiser than I was before I arrived.

I spent the rest of the day getting in and out of the car driving kids around dropping them off, picking them up, doing the grocery shopping...I know, it's boring but all I felt like doing yesterday was lying on the couch watching the mindless banter on Ready Steady Cook with a bottle of wine, and a cold pack on my forehead.

Because Henry hadn't slept he was like some wild feral child who had been found wandering around the jungle communicating only with animals by the time I collected him from my mother and brought him home. He's been sick again and a recent visit to the ENT specialist has revealed that he'll likely need grommets in his ears. His entire winter was spent with an ear infection, treated by antibiotics. It just never cleared up fully and has now become "glue ear". We've booked him in for the surgery, on my birthday no less, but I'm hoping that it may clear up on it's own before then as I don't want to have to subject him to a general anesthetic if it's not necessary. It's possible that it will now that the warmer weather is upon us. If it doesn't and we don't get the grommets he could have permanent hearing loss and possible further infections elsewhere. The ridiculous thing is that the plastic grommets themselves - little plastic tubes - cost a grand total of $40. The operation to insert them will cost over $1000.

Maya is home for the next two weeks because it's school holidays. She's planned shopping trips but has no money because she hasn't worked for a couple of weeks as she was sick and then away at school camp. She's going to ask me for some but I have none to give her either and even if I did I wouldn't be handing it over as she will only buy more clothes she doesn't need. She has her school semi-formal coming up - in November- but for some reason all of her friends bought their dresses like way back in grade 8 (not quite but very early) and Maya has been nagging me to take her shopping so she could buy hers. We did last weekend and bought something fabulous that was also fabulously priced. I had been discouraging her from trying to get it so soon as I know her too well. Once she owns something she is over it and wants something else. I had advised her to leave it until only a couple of weeks prior to the formal so there was less chance she'd grow to hate it and want something else. But no...mother's don't know anything. It had to be bought soon, like now, because everyone else had theirs. We searched through what seemed like several hundreds shops, some of them Maya declared too old lady, some just plain ugly. Just as we were about to give up we spotted a dress - she loved it, tried it on and it looked perfect. Beautiful! We both agreed that it was just right. We hadn't yet looked at the price tag of it and I was expecting maybe $150 at least. I snuck a peek and when I saw the orange sale price tag that said $9.95 I couldn't believe it. I rushed outside to the rack to check the others and found that it was indeed marked down to $9.95. I ran back screaming to Maya - Oh my God, it's like only $9.95, oh my God. She cringed and hid down in the corner of the dressing room.

We paid for the dress and left. As we were walking out of the centre only five minutes later Maya says "I'm not really in love with that dress." I knew it, I knew it was going to happen but I didn't think it would be so soon. I thought it might take a day but five minutes. I blew my stack right there in the shopping centre, in front of all the shoppers, who were shopping - I said all the usual things like I knew it, I knew you would do this, that's it, if you want another dress you have to ask your father, I've done my bit. God, you're so ungrateful. I just spent a whole $9.95 on a dress for you and this is how you show your gratitude. Just like it doesn't matter that I nearly went broke for you.

Poor thing, she skulked to the car, came home and took the dress to show her friend who declared it beautiful and perfect and stunning. She was fine after that and hasn't asked me for another one yet. She will though.

I hope my bubble bursts today so I can breathe again.

A year makes all the difference

While recently babysitting a friend's four year old who was inserting a game into the XBOX console.

C: This game's really old. It was my dad's game when he was three.

Me: I didn't think they had XBOX when your dad was three.

C: Oh, he must have been four.

Boy Meets Girl

I'm slowly learning that my son can be completely charming when he wants to be. This cute little bundle of sweet girl child that Henry was lucky enough to spend some time with recently survived his hurly gurly madness.

Eva, and her parents were in Australia this past weekend all the way from New Zealand. This was the first time we had met her because she was born in New Zealand after her mother moved back there three years ago. She is so incredibly sweet that it almost makes me want to try for another in the hopes that I can reproduce her. Not only is she super intelligent but she is gentle, quiet and reasonably calm. If it could be guaranteed that any child I gave birth to was like her I would do it a million times.

Her parents left her with us for a night while they went and enjoyed some adult time alone. She went to bed here in a strange bed in a strange house with nary a peep. When she woke in the morning she behaved as if she'd spent oodles of time with us. She was happy and comfortable in our presence and Henry didn't try to beat her up even once.

Since she left he's been wandering around the house finding things that she didn't break (as if she would) and declaring everything to be ok.

Ben has only said approximately 23 times that Eva was the sort of child he expected Henry to be when he first learned we were pregnant. Still, I love the one we did get.

The Gender Difference

I have a son and I have a daughter. That means I have one of each. No need to say duh! out loud because I already said it to myself. I know that one daughter and one son means that I have two children, one of each sex. I've been lucky enough to get one of each with only two attempts at it. I often wonder though what it may have been like if I had two of the same sex, born close enough together to like each other enough to play Barbie, or trucks at the same time or at the very least, in the same room. The two I have don't like to play together very often and I'm left wondering about their differences. One is their age, the other is their gender. My girl, when she was Henry's age was delightful, smart, funny and cute but she also had that thing that only girls appear to have - a very short emotional fuse. She was active but wasn't trying to kill herself by climbing on ladders while carrying a screwdriver that she thought would help her fix the light socket. She was more of a sensitive, caring and temperamental child - meaning that she would scream the house down when she was tired and couldn't have chocolate for dinner.


Henry, my boy child, well he's just more like - look here you people, this is the way I like and this is the way it will be. There is no room for negotiation and if you try to stop me I will likely snub you for up to 24 hours.

Henry also NEVER SITS STILL EVER. He should have been born with a danger label stuck on his forehead and some yellow and black luminescent tape holding his legs and arms to his body rendering him incapable of jumping, climbing and running through automatically opening doors just as they're about to close. If someone had told me that I would be trading the emotional blackouts for having to constantly be on my guard in order to keep my child alive I would have made sure I gave birth to only a girl child. At least I could sit for hours with earplugs in my ears while Maya wailed about not being able to get Barbie's undies over her hips. With Henry I have to be on alert at all times. As a result of this not much gets done around here. Dinner has become a free for all - if you can find food that has not yet turned rotten, eat it but do it quick because you might have to save Henry from getting his head trapped in the washing machine.

I have a teenager and as far as teenagers go I couldn't ask for a better one. She's sensible, smart and thoughtful (I know this could end at any minute) but I just know I'm still going to have to follow Henry everywhere when he's Maya's age to make sure he comes home alive. Henry's smart and thoughtful too at age three but he just needs to fix things and he doesn't think yet about how he's going to fix them and I'm not sure he ever will.

Doritos to the rescue

When you spend all day cleaning your firetruck and rescuing stuff you need to refuel and the only way to do that is with a pack of Doritos.

For Our Friends in France

This was once our local Woolworths supermarket. I believe they've yanked it down to make way for a bigger, better and newer version. I didn't mind the existing one but the car park was a major pain in the behind and if you had a car that fit more than two people in it you couldn't park there.

I miss that supermarket. I miss the staff that worked there that we came to know and who always asked after Henry. With a bit of luck they'll all be back before Christmas but progress will be slow and somehow I don't see how it can happen.

And guess what else??? Right now it's raining. For some of you who read this you will be saying "big deal". But for us it is a HUGE deal. It hasn't rained in like twenty years. When we look out our window across the city the trees that were once all nice and green seem like sad silhouettes against the skyline. It's so dry that even the weeds won't grow. We've been limited to four minute showers, been told to do one less load of washing a week, feed all the grey water to the garden etc, etc. People have stopped talking about the weather as a matter of small talk because there's only been one thing to say and that is - "gee it's dry isn't it?" Of course because there are really no other subjects for small talk people just stop talking. Talking about the dry gets boring and there's no variation on the dryness to even discuss. It's just dead, bone dry.

Right now the birds are singing and dashing between the trees like all their Christmases have come at once . It will probably only last two minutes but those two minutes will be enough to provide small talk amongst the family for a good hour.

Kitty Cat Dance

We found this on youtube. Apparently so did hundreds of thousands of others. Henry thinks it's hilarious and I suspect that 100,000 of the hits it's received are from us.

Couch Parent

Why is that father's are able to successfully parent from the couch? Ben can simultaneously watch television and instruct Henry on exactly where to place his cars and how to operate all his toys. What bothers me the most is Henry accepts this and listens without complaint to the instructions that are handed out to him. He NEVER does that for me. I have to be participating at all times with my eyes on him and my hands on the toys.

In my next life I'm going to be a father. It seems so much easier.

The Big Three

Henry turned three yesterday. We didn't do much in the way of celebration because when you're three you really only care that someone has provided presents and cake and candles. That's all Henry wanted. For days leading up to his birthday he kept saying "I'm two, for my birthday I want presents and cake and candles." So we obliged.


I had tried to make a cake (using a packet mix because while I can cook I can't bake) and I failed. In the words of Ben's mother - it was a bad mix. It must have been out of date or someone had tampered with the ingredients. It was a miserable excuse for a cake and so I rang my mother. She who has the answer to everything came up with this. Just whipped it up in two seconds flat.



When it came time to eat it though he wasn't really interested. He just wanted to blow out the candles and sing Happy Birthday about ten times over because at the end everyone cheered for him and it made him feel ten feet tall.


There was no huge party, only family around to share in the excitement with him and that was more than enough. He was exhausted by 5.30PM and took himself to bed after declaring that he was tired and needed to sleep. I wasn't far behind.

Happy Birthday Henry!

We're all Normal

I recently read this post on Dr Mama's blog in which she wonders if she is doing something wrong as a mother because her son is, well, by the sounds of it, completely normal.

All parents ask that question at some point. I know I do each and every day. Not so much with Henry as I did with Maya but I still wonder sometimes if I was a different kind of parent would I have raised a much quieter, less willful, and more co-operative child. I know the real question should be - won't somebody take this child away from me for half a day so I can breathe quietly and concentrate on one thing, such as using the lavatory.

Dr Mama says her child needs to be with her constantly. Well that sounds fairly normal to me. Henry NEVER. LEAVES. ME. ALONE. EVER. He needs to have me with him at ALL TIMES doing whatever it is he happens to be doing. No one else will do. It has to be me. I should be flattered that he thinks so highly of me and sometimes I am. Sometimes I just want to be able to pick the hairs out of my nose, all alone, without having to pretend I'm driving a fire truck at the same time.

I've often told expectant parents to have someone follow them around 24 hours a day tapping them on the shoulder and calling their name every ten seconds in order to prepare themselves for the fact that they will never, ever, be alone again because that's just what it's like. It's like having your subconscious sitting right on your shoulder, watching that you don't ever let yourself slip into a state of idleness. Watching that you don't misuse your alone time and that you keep your toilet breaks to a minimum of two minutes.

Just this morning to kill some time and get some exercise Henry and I walked to the local shops to run some errands. It started off ok but quickly turned into an outing (like all others) that I wished I'd never attempted. He can't stay still. Not for one second. He cannot simply stand in one spot or sit on a chair for more than a second or two. In the few minutes it took me to hand over the prescription to the pharmacist he ran up and down the aisles, rearranged all the neatly lined nail polishes, moved the Vitamin C bottles into the Fish Oil section, opened a few boxes of tissues and pushed the pram into a lovely display of facial moisturisers and knocked them over. Then we had to wait for the prescription to be filled. I tried to encourage him to sit still in the chairs that had been placed there for waiting customers but that didn't work. He'd seen some lipsticks that had not been nailed down. Before I could get to him and save them he'd opened them all and changed the lids around on some of them.

We left there all apologetic and made our way to the butcher. While I was being served he had to open and close the door several times to make the customer alert bell ring just because it sounded like a fire alarm. I was going to attempt the supermarket but I was too exhausted. Instead I headed for home. But as Henry knows the way to the supermarket and had heard me say earlier in the morning that I needed to go there he threw an almightly tantrum when I continued on past the street that would have led us there. I had to bribe him by telling him he could help me make his birthday cake when we got home. He didn't forget that and as soon as we neared home he ran up the driveway and into the house and had the oven open before I'd even had a chance to put down my shopping. "Come on Mum, we need to make my birthday cake". Every day is like this. I have to, as many parents do, continually think about what I say before I say it because he has a memory like an elephant. If I don't follow through on a promise, he throws a tantrum strong enough to wake the dead. The good thing is though, when he does this at home, he realises his mistake and takes himself to the naughty corner.

Parenting is tough, sometimes it even totally sucks. We're under much more pressure than ever to make sure our children are stimulated enough and learning enough and dressed well enough and eating a nutritionally balanced diet and are not exposed to any potentially psychologically harming situations and the list goes on.

Sometimes I deliberately ignore Henry when he's whimpering for my attention. Most times there's nothing wrong and he simply wants me to find the fire truck he can't be bothered to find himself. He usually only does this when he thinks I might be doing something that is not related in some way to him. The only times I'm not with him lately is when I'm at work and on the toilet. Anything else is impossible to achieve and there are some things I rarely attempt if I have Henry with me, like clothes shopping, shaving my legs, making a phone call, paying a bill, writing on my blog, catching up with friends because the pain that I feel when doing those things with him attached to me is not worth it. I'll do them when he's older. By then I'll need a tree trimmer to take care of my legs, my friends will have all disappeared and I'll be only be capable of singing the Fireman Sam theme song over the telephone.

Every child is "normal" in that they will, at some point, drive their parents completely insane. There are no parents however who would give their children back simply because they've been driven insane.

Tomorrow is Henry's third birthday. Three years ago today he started to make his intention to join the world clear to me. Despite being occasionally difficult he has been the most precious gift to all of us and we're overjoyed to know him. He can destroy all the pharmacies he likes and try to force me to play trucks all day because not being able to do that would be far worse than having to.

The Great Steam Train Ride

In honour of Henry's third birthday next week we took him on a steam train ride. It was just a short one hour but it would have been fine if it had taken a whole day. As we breathed in the old time smell of the coal steam we all imagined the stories those leather clad seats could tell if they could only talk.

Kan U TXT my score to me? Gr8!

How teenagers communicate.

Perhaps I've been feeling a little stressed

MT: Hello. Is this Mrs Mother?

ME: Speaking

MT: Hello Mrs Mother, this is Ms Teacher from Wagit State High School. I'm just calling to talk to you about your daughter's unexplained absences from school.

Me: I don't know anything about that. My daughter goes to school every day. I see her leave in the morning. She's a good girl. There's no way she would wag school, especially after I told her about what happened to me when I wagged it. God, I can't believe you're calling me accusing me of having a daughter who WAGS school. As if! Do you know how upsetting it is for me to hear you accuse me like that? Like I don't care. I know what you're going to say. You're going to say that my children should be taken away from me because they don't show up for school...I feed them you know, they eat every day. It might not always be good, nutritious food but they eat. I mean there's always bread and vegemite in the house. Lord above I can't believe this (starting to cry). Do you know how hard it is to raise teenagers these days? Well, do you? Probably not, all you teachers are the same. You get on your high horse and have the audacity to just call parents and tell them they're not good enough because their children don't bother showing up to school. I'm going to write to the Minister for Education you know and tell him how awful you've made me feel. You'll be hauled across the coals for this. You might even lose your job....

MT: Um, Mrs Mother. I just wondered if you or your daughter had an explanation, that's all. I'm sure there's a good reason for it. It's just that we don't have her on the roll for three days over the last month is all. Maybe she was just late and didn't get marked off. Perhaps you could...

ME: Oh sure. That's what you say but I know you really mean to spy on me and find out my business don't you? You people can't help yourselves.

MT: No Mrs Mother that's not what I'm trying to do. Look, would you just ask your daughter if she has an explanation and get back to us. We need to be able to account for those days. It's a legal requirement.

ME: Oh so now you're going to bring the law into it. Well I'm calling my solicitor.

MT: Ok Mrs Mother. You do that. But please just ask your daughter about the absent days and get back to me.

ME: Alright then I will but when this is all over you're going to be sorry you even called me.


Later...

ME: Maya. Come here please.

M: God. What! I'm trying to blow up my ear drums with my Ipod. This had better be important.

ME: Watch your mouth young lady. This IS important. Why weren't you at school on days blah, blah, blah.

M: Oh God Mum. I was at school. I was just late and missed getting my name on the roll.

ME: Well that's not what the teacher said. She said you were wagging it. She said you were drinking and smoking down near that creek bed near the sportsfield. You better not have been. You know I've got enough on my plate to deal with right now...

M: Mum. I was. God why don't you believe me. You go off at me all the time for nothing. I'm sick of it.

ME: Well if it's so bad then perhaps you should find a new family. One that lets you wag school whenever you want...

M: Ring up the school if you want and get them to check all my other lessons. I just was late for form that's all.

ME: Alright. I will. And I suppose you were late for form because you were kissing boys...

M: No Mum. I wasn't.

Later still...

MT: Hello. Is this Mrs Mother?

ME: Yes it is.

MT: This is Ms Teacher from Wagit State High School. I've checked the record of attendance at other classes and it seems your daughter was at school but she had missed her form class and so missed getting her name on the roll. I'm sorry if we caused you any distress.

ME: Yes well so am I. What with your ringing here and accusing my daughter of being a drug addict because she didn't show up for school. I told you she goes to school. Thank you for calling and straightening that out. Now I can let her out of the cage I lock her in when she misbehaves.



*Of course it didn't happen exactly like this but why the school couldn't actually check those records before calling me and sending me into a downward spiral of stupidness I'll never know*

Our day in pictures

As I write this Maya, Ben and Henry are behind me playing guitar. Well obviously Henry isn't but he's trying, unsuccessfully. It's been a day of bonding for our family. One that has been long overdue. Maya was largely absent for it because she was at her guitar lesson and then at work but we all sat and ate dinner together when she came home.

While Maya was at her lessons me, Henry and Ben went to the park to play. When we dropped her at work we stayed for a burger for lunch. Then we left Henry with Nana for a little while to do some shopping. Finally we came home and stuffed ourselves stupid with a delicious home made curry lovingly made by Ben.

While we had plans to clean the house we let it all go by the wayside and I'm glad we did. After what has been a hectic few weeks it was nice to all hang out together and just be.

Way Cool...

This is a photo of my eye. I'm only posting it because it is way cool.

Tip of the day

When parking in a "pay on exit" carpark always ensure you have your wallet with you in your handbag and not at home on the dining table.

Trucks the size of ships

Just to get out of the house today we took a trip to the Port of Brisbane thinking we'd get to see some big ships. We didn't. Instead we found these...


He says he was crying in this photo but he was only posing.

The Genes Don't Fit

Have you been working out at the gym?

No.

Well how come your butt is so small?

I don't know.

We have the same mother and father. How come I got the big butt and you got the small one?

I don't know. Maybe they just got you the wrong size genes.

My new nephew

Kai Brett. Born July 13

A rare moment of liking each other enough to watch Bob the Builder together

The wheels on the bus go round and round...

I don't know why it is but most people think Henry is cute when he's at his bossiest. I had to go to the city today and I took Henry with me so he could have a bus ride. His first ever. He was so excited about it that he allowed me to push him in the stroller to the bus stop. He even waited patiently on the seat at the stop until the bus arrived. He didn't try to walk out into traffic or throw his toy fire engine out on the road or at a passerby.

We boarded the bus and he chose his seat right next to the window. I sat beside him. The bus took off and he was completely mesmerised. His eyes roamed over the surroundings, checking out the air vents, the windows, the upholstery on the seats, the buzzer and the driver. A gentleman boarded the bus at the next stop and went to take a seat right across the aisle from us. Henry, for some reason, felt that he should not take that seat and yelled to him "you can't sit in that seat". The man looked over at Henry and very politely said "Well, how about you and me swap places and I take your window seat?" To which Henry replied "No, thanks. I'm fine here". The man then stretched out his hand to Henry and invited him to shake it. Henry did. For the rest of the trip into the city Henry kept peering past me at the man across the aisle and grinning at him. That gentleman was equally taken with Henry and made a point of telling him goodbye as we came to our stop.

The trip home was just as much fun and Henry managed to win over another gentleman who helped me aboard with the stroller. This man was middle aged and in awe of Henry's fascination with trucks and machinery (Henry squealed with delight at each truck we passed). The man told me stories of his own sons when they were little and how much they loved the same things as Henry. He said to me "It's so great to watch them when they're like that. It makes me wonder all the time about which point we start to lose our enthusiasm for the simple things in life. Why it is that we get so bogged down in trying to make it through life that we forget to be excited about a bus ride".

I have been thinking about his comments all day. He's so right. We tend to think of it as having to catch public transport rather than an adventure.

It doesn't matter how old they are....

My children, despite their age gap, love to argue. Henry is only willing to allow Maya near him under his own terms and conditions. This morning as Maya got out of bed and came upstairs to where Henry was watching TV the following conversation ensured. I listened from the kitchen not game to interrupt.

H: No, no Sissy, don't take his blanket

M: But it's my blanket (it actually was)

H: No. It's not yours, it's mines.

M: No it's not, it's mine. Go and get your own Bob the Builder Blanket.

H: (pointing his finger) Sissy, you're being very naughty and if you don't stop it you'll have to go to the naughty corner

M: So what...it's still my blanket.

I came out with Henry's blanket and draped it over Sissy and told Henry he could have the one she had. That of course just started the whole thing up again. They all only want what the other one has.

One would think that a 14 year old and a 2 year old would love each other to bits. And they do. It's just that they can't stand each other.

Oh the suffering

For those of you whose children have not yet reached their teens...this is what you have to look forward to.

Practice trying to get your children to appreciate rice while you still can.

I hope you didn't think it was going to be easy.

Just to prove my point...Maya came home yesterday with a pair of Sass and Bide jeans given to her by her half sister who is young, beautiful and still lives at home giving her money to spend on such luxuries as a pair of jeans that look just like any other but cost possibly three times as much. All it did was make her say the following line to me with her pinky finger poised for linking with mine - "I'm going to buy a pair of Sass and Bide skinnies and then I promise, pinky promise that I won't buy anything else and will save my money".

Of course I refused to link pinkies because she's said that before.

Industry Socks

Ben starts a new job tomorrow. As he had no appropriate attire we had to go shopping and we found these socks. As he works in IT they seemed perfectly appropriate. Even if they don't do what they claim it was worth buying them just because they are Computer Socks.. There were also Health Care Worker Socks. It made us wonder if they'll start producing Union Socks, Administration Socks, Checkout Chick Socks, Traffic Controller Socks, Mechanic Socks, Cleaner Socks, Investigator Socks, Celebrity Socks, Actor Socks, Dole Bludger Socks or even Single Mother Socks.

We also wondered if a pair of socks called Get Rich Quick Socks would actually do the job they were designed to do.

Sick and Polite

Henry has had a very high fever since late yesterday afternoon. Since this usually follows a cold and is always accompanied by an ear infection I took him to the docs to have him checked out. Of course I was right. I don't like it when he's sick but what I do like is that it makes him so compliant and so polite and so loving. He wants to cuddle and he always says please and thank you and asks me if I'm alright even though I'm not the one who is sick.

Today at the doctor he was abnormally complaint and even opened his mouth to allow her to peer down his throat and she didn't even have to use that horrid dry timber stick thing they use to keep the tongue out of the way. He breathed in and out when asked to do so as she listened to his chest with the stethoscope and when she was done he got down from my lap, turned to the doc and said "Doctor, can I please have a lolly now?". She asked him to repeat what he had said simply because she wanted to hear him say it again so he obliged. She then asked him if he knew where they were. "Of course" he said. "They're behind your concuter (computer)".

Even I hadn't seen them there and maybe he just remembered from last time but that's exactly where they were. She took out the jar and offered him one. When he had finally made his selection he said "Thank you doctor. Have a nice day and thanks for checking me out. See you next time".

We departed to the sounds of the doctor's chuckles.

On another note - Maya had her end of term drama performances on Tuesday evening. I was completely impressed and in awe of those teenagers who wrote all the material themselves. Each drama group had a theme and they had to write that theme into a fifteen minute drama performance using miminal props. Maya's group did "Perceptions of Love". It was sad, funny and insprirational all at once. I had an insight into how 14 year olds view the idea of love. They started off with a short scene at a restaurant. Maya and her partner were bored with each other's company when he got a call on his mobile phone. He left suddenly and she was all alone in the restuarant looking decidely dejected. The next scene showed the two of them at work. She his secretary and he her boss. He calls her into his office and fires her - tells her he's bored with her and that he needs more excitement. She leaves in tears and runs into a friend who tells her he had seen him out with a blonde bimbo just nights before. She later confronts him and they have it out...the scene ends with the two of them standing alone on separate ends of the stage. They added a touch of humour but it was hard not to sense the drama and sadness of it all. It was hard not to want to wrap all those teenagers in my arms and tell them that love isn't always like that.

Another group decided to tackle the issues of single parenthood. That one was truly suicidally sad. I'm not sure which one of them or how many of them had come from broken homes but they certainly had some first hand knowledge of it and presented it as something real and tangible. They're mature understanding of it blew me away.

I tried drama at school but in my day it was limited to performing a play that was already years old and always written by someone else. There was never any license given to the students to create their own themes or use their own life experiences to write something thought provoking and worth watching. I gave up because I thought that learning how to type would be much more satisfying and someday would allow me to write my own crappy stories. Little did I know then though that someone would invent the personal computer for use at home and those fake love stories I typed up in class to give to my bestest friend could be stored somewhere other than a piece of paper that she would then show to the whole world at lunch time.

Taverna Trouble

Today a friend from out of town took Henry, Maya and I to lunch at the Gap Tavern. I'd never been there before but if you're looking for a kid friendly but adult place to dine then it's perfect. They have a playground right off the dining deck and a kids playroom which is set up with a video car racing game, books, blocks and playstations.

My friend wanted to specifically go there because he's a consultant in the hotel industry and wanted to check it out for another person who's planning on taking over the management of it.

Anyway while waiting for lunch Henry played in the playroom which was located right beside our table. There were two other four year old boys playing in there too. They'd lay claim to each and every thing that was in that room and were not about to let Henry touch anything. I sat and observed for a while before intervening just to make sure I wasn't speaking out of place. Henry was his usual polite self and asked politely if he could play with the car racing game which had a seat and a steering wheel and required money (but he didn't know that). The other boy children just pushed him aside and said "no, you're not big enough and you wouldn't know how to play". Henry looked all forlorn and stood there staring and each time he attempted to go near it they shooed him away. I could stand it no longer and so tried the soft approach first. "Do you mind if Henry has a turn when you're finished?" Of course their answer was "No, he's not big enough and he doesn't know what to do, he has to go away. He just can't play in here". Very calmly I asked "Are you the manager?" They were then all like "After we've had ten turns each he can have a turn. We might take a long time you know?" I told them I understood but they weren't being very fair about it. I even pointed out that he had asked nicely and was willing to wait his turn but he didn't have to wait until they'd had ten turns. After I gave them each a stern glare they agreed to only have two turns each before turning it over. I walked away as though I had left the room but stayed outside the door within ear shot but so they could not see me. As soon as I left the room they started again. Henry had pretty much lost interest by that stage and turned his attention to something else. I left and could still see what was going on through the glass from our table. Everything seemed to be going ok but I went in later to check and by that stage the staff had turned on the playstations so I sat down to have a go. As soon as I did the four year olds decided they needed to tell me which ones I could and couldn't use. I made sure they were clear about the fact that I was an adult and could play whichever one I wanted. There were after all five playstations and only two of them so I had a choice of three. When I had made my choice they then proceeded to come and snatch the controls from my hand and tell me that I didn't know how to play and they would show me. I told them I was fine and could work it out. They then stood beside me telling me which way to move and who to kill. I had to tell them that I knew who the baddies were and I was doing just fine thanks without the running commentary.

Now normally these kids wouldn't have bothered me so much but I was tired and they were just too damned bossy. Plus I'd already spent the morning in Intensive Behaviour Therapy at home with Henry before leaving. They were getting on my nerves and rubbing me the wrong way. Their mother's were sitting at another table sipping wine oblivious to all the goings on and had not once removed themselves from their chairs to check on their sons.

As they kept it up I lost interest in playing and put the controller down and went to walk away. As I did so I couldn't help telling them that their bossy attitude had ruined my enjoyment of the game. I took Henry to the outdoor playground and they followed and kept it up out there telling Henry what he could and couldn't climb on. I stayed quiet and just glared at them. They soon got the hint and went back to the playroom to boss around some other little girl who'd gone in there thinking she'd just like to play with the blocks.

Aside from that little experience lunch was thoroughly enjoyable.