School holidays – love them or loathe them

There’s a lot of things I love about the school holidays. Problem is there’s also I lot of stuff, that I er, am less than partial to . Allow me to explore:

I don’t have to make school lunch and anyone that has ever wrapped a sandwich in greaseproof paper knows the joy of a day off
BUT
I have to make real lunch. Real lunch is far worse than school lunch. Somehow being home makes me feel like I have to make more effort. And invariably he will return his plate of freshly prepared food to the kitchen untouched and ask for a sandwich

I get to take Little Pencil to the movies and that is a real treat. Sitting together and sharing a large popcorn is one of life’s greatest pleasures
BUT
I have to see Marmaduke. Enough said

We don’t have to stress about homework and I admit that homework places a lot of stress on me. I like to get it done, and I like Little Pencil to be the one doing it. This always causes a bit of conflict so when we don’t have homework I feel particularly stress free
BUT
Little Pencil has to beat every level on the x-box game. This does not sound hard for me but you have no idea how seriously Little Pencil takes his gaming. The stress? I would rather do fractions homework

I don’t have to do a hundred lifts to school and extra mural activities and I like to think that means less time in the car and in the traffic
BUT
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We don’t need to have a freshly laundered uniform every day and this pleases me greatly because I iron school clothes
BUT
Little Pencil is likely to change three times in the course of one day. Each change of clothing will need to be washed and I actually iron all clothes

I don’t have to shout about bed time because after all it is holiday time so why should he have to go to bed at a decent hour?
BUT
I have to beg, cajole and scream about bed time because no matter what time he goes to sleep he will wake up at 6:30am and if he went to bed late he will be cranky and er, hideous.

I get to spend more time with Little Pencil. Always a plus.
BUT
He’d rather be with his friends. Actually maybe that is also a plus….

How do you feel about school holidays?

Thinking and eating….

Growing up I was a meat and potatoes girl.  Literally.  I survived on chops and chips.  Occasionally just to gee things up a bit I ate spaghetti bolognaise, but that was about it.  As I grew older my taste matured and I started to eat different foods but meat and chicken were my staples.  I was very much a carnivore and to be honest, I was a little wary of vegetables.I am not sure how the change happened or at what point my already overly sensitive nature decided to turn its focus on to food. But I do know that I started to think about where the meat I was eating came from and it made me feel distressed and in truth – it made me feel extremely guilty.

For me it was not about eating animals as such, it was more about how the meat got to my plate.  I am under no illusion that an animal has to die before I can eat it and I knew it sure as hell wasn’t going to walk there but I worried about the journey that animal had made.  Death is one thing and, being a fatalist I can accept that, but it is the life that the animal experienced before death that really got to me.

I tried to pretend that cows chomped happily and idyllically on grass for the entirety of their lives before a sudden blow at the abbatoir made them into steak, but increasingly I heard the term “grain fed” beef.  I may not know a lot about farming or even biology but I do know that cows don’t naturally graze on grain.

I tried to pretend farmers spent their morning running after chickens that had, up until that very morning, roamed around the farm pecking at grain on the ground.  But I knew that the sheer number of eggs and chickens at the supermarket made that fantasy impossible to execute.

I tried to pretend that no-one in a humane society would ever torture animals by keeping them in concrete pens their entire lives with no access to sunshine, fresh air or place to stretch their muscles, but increasingly I discovered that I was wrong.

I made a conscious decision to stop eating meat, not because it is not healthy, not even because I don’t like the taste but simply because I could not condone cruelty to animals.  I am at peace with my decision, I feel better about my footprint on this earth and I feel healthier because of this (even if it is only my mental health that has been affected).  I only purchase meat for my family that has been ethically raised with respect and humanity.

Behind most of the alienations, there are cheap canadian viagra basic stories of sexual dissatisfaction preceded by erectile dysfunction. You can easily order viagra canada mastercard vigrx plus online can be very much beneficial. This particular canada pharmacy viagra Erectile Dysfunction self-test is considered outdated. These herbal supplements should be consumed two times daily, either with milk buy generic levitra or the pure water for four months. Interestingly the only really big change I have had to make is acceptance.  I have had to take a crash course in being tolerant of those around me because, as much as I feel completely validated in my beliefs, I am equally conscious about not ramming my thoughts or opinions down anyone else’s throats – even those of my family.  I know that it is all too easy to cross the line between idealism and fanaticism. I do not want to be a zealot, I think that scares people. It doesn’t educate them and it certainly doesn’t open their minds.

Where others see packaged dinner, I see death.  I simply cannot understand how they don’t see the same thing I do but then I know many religious people who probably cannot understand why I don’ see God or salvation in the same way that they do.

Whenever I become hysterical about the plight of the animals or I balk at the rows and rows of packaged meat in the supermarket, the animal carcasses hanging in the butcher window or the ducks in the local Asian take away – I realise that my beliefs may not translate so easily to people around me.

Thank God then for movies like Food Inc made by Robert Kenner  – he does all the hard work for me and allow me to come across well, almost sane.

You should see it.  I however am too scared.

The rules

Little Pencil was sick at home for a couple of days.  Awful?  Yes.  I hate it when my child is sick.  I worry, I fret, I panic and I pamper.

The worry I can sort of deal with (hello voice of reason,  Mr Pencil), the fretting I can cope with (rescue drops) and the panic can be tempered by a quick visit to the doctor.  Unfortunately it is the pampering that gets me unstuck.

When Little Pencil does not feel well he seems to get this primal urge to crawl back inside me, to be as close to me as humanly possible.  And when he gets as close as he can – he complains that I am too far away.  So for three days he has sat on my head.

The only hope that I had of regaining use of my limbs and head was engaging him in a game. And many a time, when heavily involved in a game of Little Pencil’s choice , I have honestly wished to lose my limbs because clearly my head was completely surplus to requirements..

These are the rules of playing a game with Little Pencil

  • He will make up the rules.  Even if you are playing a game with printed rules that have been around for longer than he has, he will have modified rules.  If you object to the new rules he will make up an entirely plausible reason why his rules are better. If you object further he will rescind externally only.  It wont be long before you notice you are playing by his rules anyway.
  • He will spend 25 minutes explaining the rules.  Sometimes this means you only get to hear the rules but you don’t get to play the game.  This only happens when you are very lucky.   You can actually draw the rule explanation out by 10 minutes by asking simple questions like – what happens after that? This question works even after all the rules have been explained.
  • If you are playing a game where you can choose a character to “be” he will always choose the better character.  His character will always have better powers than yours.  If you stake the claim that yours is the best in the world, he will proclaim “My guy taught your guy”
  • If you are allowed to choose special powers or attributes for your character, his guys will have your traits as well as his own ones.
  • His character will be allowed to change mid game.  Your character is not allowed any development at all.  He finishes as he starts.
  • You are not allowed to show any signs of boredom or frustration, Little Pencil can walk away when he’s had enough (ie when he thinks of something else he’d rather do)
  • You are not allowed to create any mundane or “girly” stuff  – if you choose to build a house out of lego, he will transform it into a wrestling arena, if you build a bridge – it becomes a cannon, if you try to choose to be a girl – it is only on the proviso that you are the mother of a wrestler

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Sounds like fun hey?  Bet you want to borrow Little Pencil for a day of board games and lego building.  Or he could just stay with me and sit on my head.

Do your kids play by the rules?

Need to read

I am really desperate to find a good book to read.  And so is Little Pencil.

We have had a tradition since the very beginning of his days of reading together in bed before we go to sleep at night.  It started in the Newborn Care Unit when he was too small and fragile to be handled.  The nursing staff suggested that we read to him because he would recognise our voices from his limited time in utero.  As it was really the only thing that we could do that felt at all useful, we grabbed that job with gusto.  In his first two months he had heard the whole series of Winnie the Pooh and all the adventures of the Folk of the Faraway courtesy of me.  He had also heard many many stories from The Sydney Morning Herald and the New York Post courtesy of his father.  Why there were endless copies of The New York post in the Newborn Care Unit is just one of the things that we didn’t understand at the time.

The tradition continued once he left hospital and I can proudly say that 9 years later and we still read with Little Pencil every night.  He is a voracious reader and his reading age is well beyond his years.  (excuse my bragging, I wont be much longer) His comprehension is also quite remarkable as is his depth of analysis. But therein lies the problem.  He reads well, his comprehension is great but he is only 9 years old and he is as mature as, well as a 9 year old boy (that is he’s not very mature at all).

So we have read all the Zac Powers and we have read many, many boy detective stories, we have stumbled upon many great authors and read all their books, we loved The Wimpy Kids Diaries and the stories of the Undy’s family, we have gone through so many Captain Underpants stories that I feel like he is a member of our family, we adored Alex Rider and Harry Potter (although I thought they were a little scary and Mr Pencil did all the honours).  We have read so many records in the Guiness  series that there are times that I worry we will leak fact records if we are shaken.
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The other day we started to read the adventures of Skullduggery Pleasant, Little Pencil was hooked.  And so was I.  It is truly awesome when we find a book that we both can’t wait to read.  The writing was perfect, the descriptions amazing and watching Little Pencil’s face concentrating on the plot was heavenly.  He kept telling me the book was like a movie because he could see every scene in his head.  High praise indeed for a child with a penchant for the screen.  But then it became ridiculously scary.  Like pathetically, unnecessarily violent and just plain sinister and frightening (more so than Harry Potter).  I scare easily, I’m the first to admit that, but this was the stuff of which nightmares are made.  Little Pencil agreed and so we had to stop reading.

What is it with books for boys?  How do we keep their interest without being violent and destructive?

I can put up with the fart jokes and the bum references that crack him up but I want books that keep my child riveted.  I want books that make him think and laugh and learn and wonder. And he wants them too.   The only difference is I would really appreciate the stories that leave out the senseless violence and aggression.  Do they exist?

What did you learn at high school?

I read in the newspaper yesterday that there is a college in London that has a course in which they teach teens to walk in heels “to prepare them for the business world and their social lives” (yes you are correct – I was not reading The Financial Review).

I initially thought that this was a huge travesty – a complete waste of valuable education time and resources.  And then I thought long and hard and I remembered high school.  Upfront I can tell you – there is very little that I learned from my high school text books that I use in my business or social life

  • I know that there are three rock types – igneous, sedimentary and metamorphic – but until this very moment I have never had to recall that information before
  • I recall with some misplaced fondness dissecting a flower to find its stigma, style and ovary but I can guarantee you that I have never once been to a friend’s house or even a restaurant and had to pull that trick out of my hat to keep the people entertained.
  • I know how to look up sin, cosine and tangent in a log book (okay I don’t really but I do remember those terms and that is saying something) but not since my HSC has someone even suggested I do something vaguely similar to that.
  • I can recite great big chunks of Shakespeare and I can even quote some Afrikaans and Hebrew texts (there is something to be said for going to a Jewish school in South Africa) but I cannot remember anyone trying to get me to do this at work.  In fact I once tried but I was in Australia and when I recited Afrikaans poetry I think there was some consensus that I needed a mental health day. Or three.
  • I remember learning a whole heap of dates in History classes.  I also remember forgetting those dates straight after the exam.  Cramming can only stay in your head for so long.

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But there are things that I learned at high school that have stayed with me through the years and that I really do use in my business and social life.

  • I learned that any sandwich tastes better with corn chips in the centre
  • I learned that you can get away with almost anything if you are hiding in a cubicle in the girl’s toilets, however cigarette smoke can be smelt from quite some distance
  • I learned that you can make a long skirt considerably shorter with a few roll downs on the waist
  • I learned that if you are not allowed to wear have no make up you can pinch your cheeks very hard until they have a red “glow” and you can use texta on your lips.  But you will not look very good.
  • I learned that in the long run good friends are more important than good grades – sorry people who are studying hard at school.  I believe this is true
  • I learned that the “mean” kids were just insecure and that the “cool” kids were only cool because we saw them that way. They were really no different from anyone else. Sadly I only learned this on about the last day of high school.

So maybe teaching kids to walk in high heels is not so silly.  God knows I can’t walk in them now.

What did you learn in high school that wasn’t in the text book?  And does anyone remember how to use a log book?

Rain.

It has rained for almost three weeks now.  I have not become a meteorologist , I am really not that into weather charts and I don’t know much about highs and lows (well I do but not when associated with isobars and synoptic charts) but I don’t see the rain stopping any time soon.  Maybe this is because it is the rainy season or maybe, just maybe it is because we are renovating and builders cannot lay bricks in the rain.

It is not the first time that I have controlled the weather though.  You see, although I know absolutely nothing about it , I do believe that it is my life that affects it. (I know that this sounds insanely egotistical and well, like the weather revolves around me – but I am not egotistical at all and I do have a lot of scientific evidence to provide my point (scientific meaning “it really happens”).  Unfortunately while I am responsible for creating the weather it often works against me

  • If I wash my car it will rain.  I know a lot of people believe this happens to them.  They may be right sometimes.  But it definitely happens to me. All the time
  • If I go on a picnic it will blow a gale.  Sometimes only in the specific picnic spot where we are sitting but while we are trying to eat there that spot is all that really counts
  • If I have to watch a sporting event (think school carnival) it will be so hot as to cause harm to my skin
  • If I have an outfit preplanned for a function the weather will be the polar opposite of what I had planned for. There is no use telling me to plan for both because I am not that organised.
  • If there is rain in the air the clouds will open up at 3:15pm exactly.  School pick up is at 3:30pm

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And before you think I am terribly negative not at all appreciative of the fact that I control the weather, I should remind you that there are times when my controlling the weather works perfectly

  • I have never experienced rain at the beach
  • I have only ever once planned an outdoor party and had to move it indoors (and that was because I was neurotic not because I had to)
  • I am not one of those people whose hair straightening efforts summon the humidity.  In fact when I straighten my hair the weather largely stays the same
  • It never rains on me when I take the dog for a walk (this may be because I don’t walk him on overcast days but still….)
  • I have never experienced a severe weather phenomenon – not even a hail mark on my car

Sadly though it does seem that if I renovate my house – it rains. Solidly. For three weeks and counting.

Welcome to my humble abode

It seems that my last post prompted quite a few people to think that I had taken complete leave of my senses.  And it’s true. I am a little stressed. I have no words for it so I will allow the pictures to do the talking today.

Please remember as you look through the rubble my pictures, that I am a control freak.   I hate mess and I love my home.


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Now this is not the way the entrance always was, for instance we never had a wheelbarrow as the main point of focus as guests enter the house.  Not even to gather gifts.  I am however thinking of leaving a similar gift receptacle in the finished house.

We also had beautiful arches.  We did not have bits of concrete around the ceiling all jagged and exposed.

This is the entrance to my house, it is not what I would term "inviting"

-

This gorgeous cell wall is actually the wall of my bedroom.  Are you beginning to understand my trauma?

.

This is the bathroom – I don’t really think I need to say anything more.

-

Oh wait – I’ll show you the kitchen

.

-

But it’s not all bad. Really.  Look at the very solid and lovely bolts that they have put in place so that the house does not fall apart in the horrific winds and rain that we are experiencing.

.

And also there is the fact that everything is going according to plan.  Hopefully they don’t knock down the walls the plans are written on.

.

Seriously.  Now do you understand why I am not completely in my comfort zone?  I know how lucky I am and I really appreciate the fact that the end result will totally outweigh all this angst but if anybody has something that will help me to sleep until October I would really appreciate that.

I think I may have left the stove on.

Why is it that the more stressed and anguished over time I am, the more stressed and anguished I become.

Take yesterday (in fact please take yesterday and wipe it from my memory bank – it was terrible).  I rushed all day.  I had a million things to do (okay nine) and they were all in different places (okay they weren’t) and they all required at least some brain power (yes they did).

I could not concentrate on anything because as soon as I tried to do something I thought about the next thing I was meant to be doing.  So I did what any normal  person would do in that situation – I decided to cut up a hundred vegetables and cook a curry for dinner.

I then loaded many, many posts on to the backend of Mamamia, prayed for people to be nice on the site, shopped  for provisions, went past the building site to shout at gee on the builder, met a very strange woman who bought my old desk on e-bay and tried to fit it into her tiny two door hatchback, re-re-redesigned the kitchen and all I had to do was to take Little Pencil to basketball 14kms from home by 5pm and I could call my day done.

So we left the house at 4:40pm (because we had to finish homework, refuse a snack, find the ball, pump the ball, find socks, tie the shoe laces without visible bows and play a quick game of handball all in between getting home from school at 4:00pm and leaving for basketball)

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The more I worried about it, the more convinced I became.  My brain was saying “it’s off – you always worry about leaving stuff on but you never do”, but my emotions (which are much louder) were saying” QUICK get home, your  dog is going to die”.

So I raced home and ran inside.  The stove was off of course, and the dog was lying on my bed dreaming of having a sane owner.

And when I got back into the car and  tried to explain to Little Pencil the whole concept of “better safe than sorry” loosely interpreted as “better late for basketball than homeless”,  I started to worry – when I checked the stove did I actually switch it ON by mistake?

Am I alone in this obsession about leaving stuff on?  Is it a lesson life is trying to teach me?  If it is I would really like to learn it and move on (just as soon as I have checked the hair straightener because I just know I left it on).

“Good” morning, let’s go to school

Mornings in my house are a nightmare.

I  start every morning with new resolve.  I will not fight with Little Pencil, I will not nag him, I will not chastise him, I will not even hurry him. Every morning it is like some part of me believes that he will have been visited by the Fairy of Responsibility in his sleep, that he will wake up in his 9 year old body but with the responsibility and resolve of a grown man who is eager to get to school work.

As soon as the TV is switched on I know that the Fairy hasn’t visited.  The fairy would have taken away his desire to imbibe violence before school.  Or at least s/he would have hidden the remote control.

I start well.

5 minutes after breakfast is served

Me:      Please eat up angel

Him:    Uh

5 minutes later

Me:      Angel, your cereal is turning to cement, please eat it

Him:    I am *sounding quite indignant*

3 minutes later

Me:      It is really important that you have food in your stomach when you go to school please concentrate on finishing your breakfast and then put on your uniform.

Him:    uh

2 minutes later

Him:    I don’t like this cereal, it’s all soggy

Me:      It wasn’t soggy when I gave it to you 15 minutes ago *blood pressure rises*. Would you like a sandwich?

Him:    Can I have nutella?

Me:      No

Him:    I’m not hungry

Me:      You HAVE to eat breakfast I don’t care if you are not hungry

Him:    I’m only hungry for nutella

Me:      Okay I’ll give you nutella WITH peanut butter (somehow I think the goodness of peanuts eradicates the evil of chocolate for breakfast)

Him:    Can you cut the toast into 16 squares?

Me:      No

Him:    I like squares

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Him:    *has tuned out*

10 minutes later

Me:      Please get dressed

Him:    I am dressed

Me:      I mean get dressed in SCHOOL UNIFORM.  Wearing pyjamas is not the same as being dressed

Him:    *starts practising some martial arts form in the air*

Me:      PLEASE we are going to be late

Him:    *cartwheels*

6 minutes later

Me:      Can you go brush your teeth?

Him:    Did you know that D’s got a new DS game and the main guy has this really cool hair style and you just press A and left trigger and he morphs into this really awesome dude and then you press X and he kicks and Y and he punches and when you press them together ……..

Me:      BRUSH YOUR TEETH!!!

Him:    Okay, and then when you press the A key while holding shift he does a double forward triple somersault that looks like ….

Me:      I DON’T CARE.  BRUSH YOUR TEETH

Him:    Can I get that game on my birthday?

ME:      You can go to the dentist on your birthday.  Now brush your teeth

Him:    So can I?  I really want it

Me:      I’m going to school without you

Him:    *starts to panic* no mum, I’m sorry

Me:      Stop saying you are sorry and brush your teeth

Him:    But I am sorry mum. Really. I’ll brush my teeth now . Can I still get the game?

It’s usually at this point that I start to question whether he has any empathy at all.  He certainly doesn’t have clean teeth.

And then when we finally get to school and see the other mums holding huge chunks of their own hair in their hands, their eyes puffy, rimmed with tears and smudged with their futile attempts at make up, I realise I am not alone.

And I console myself – after all we only have another 9  years of this…………

Sullied by the TV screen

I am enraged, incensed and so angrily sad. I am surprised that I can think – perfect then that I have found just the program to watch to feed my dead brain.

Today Tonight and A Current Affair you apall me.  I know why I have never watched you and I curse the fact that I did tonight.

You see I have the privilege (and i don’t use that term lightly) of working for Mia Freedman, and I also happen to count her amongst my dearest friends. (I love reading that sentence).  I am lucky enough to know Mia as one of the most passionate, generous and genuine people I know.  I see, on a daily basis, how much she cares about her blog, about her followers and about the content that she provides on her site.  I know Mia, not as a celebrity that appears on the Today Show or writes a column in the Sunday paper, not as the creator of the most unique, compassionate and inspiring community that is Mamamia, but as a woman of tremendous heart, genuine compassion and high moral principle.  These qualities make her an amazing friend and a truly inspirational person to work for.

As site manager of Mamamia I read each and every single comment that is made on the blog (now you know why I don’t get out much).  I also read every post that Mia writes. Carefully.  Beacuse that is part of my job.  When she wrote this piece on Gainers – she wrote about gainers – people that purposefully eat as much as they can , people who try to make themselves as fat as they possibly can.  Mia did not generalise about fat people, she did not even mention fat people in general.  But Lordy me.  The fat people found her and they attacked her. And when she tried to defend herself they attacked her some more.  And then they attacked her some more.  And then again. And all for something that she never even said.  They claim it was her tone.  My keyboard does not recognise tone in words that appear on the screen, nor do my speakers.  But for them (the Fat Acceptance people) the tone was loud enough that they could persecute, judge and slaughter Mia.
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Tonight A Current Affair and Today Tonight covered the story.  Why?  Maybe they did not understand the budget? Maybe Naplan is over?  Whatever – they needed a news story and they did not have one. So they created one.  And what creative genius they must have because the whole thing was a fabrication.

I have heard of stitch ups before and I have half heardtedly believed these things happen but never have I seen anything that rates as low as this.  Out of context, misquoted drivel.  I feel sullied that I watched it

I feel proud and inspired to work for Mia and have her as a friend.