Passing on life’s important lessons

There is a nine-year old girl making news right now for er, breaking news. She’s just nine and she wants to be a reporter. Recently she reported from outside the scene of a murder where she interviewed the police and the neighbours.

There is a whole lot of grief out there about this young girl – how dare she pose as a journalist when she has no experience and has never studied, how can she be reporting outside a murder scene when she is so young, why is she so precocious. Gosh she’s even getting trolled by haters. Yes, you read that right, she’s nine-years-old and she’s getting hate mail.

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How not to talk to strangers at parties

The other day I went to a function where I knew no one other than the host. This doesn’t happen to me very often, not because I know so many people, but because I say no to going out a lot. I am an introvert in real life, not just an introvert but a shy introvert who is not a fan of small talk, deep talk or strangers.*

Anyway off I went to this function because it was my friend’s birthday and although I don’t really know any of her other friends I love her enough to make up for that.

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“Don’t post anything about me on social media without asking me first”

The other day my 15-year old son asked me for a photo of some biscuits that I had butchered instead of baking. Let’s just say they looked nothing like the picture in the recipe, in fact they looked nothing like biscuits. I was curious as to the reason he wanted this photo – was he now old enough to shame me on the internet? Was he going to out my lack of biscuit formation to the wider community? Had I taught him nothing about privacy or discretion?

I’ve not been a big sharer of his image online, but I consider myself lucky he was born well before the age of Facebook and so my own desire to show him off, was not a factor in his youth. I had to bore the people around me instead, and bore them I did.

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Being present for the joy

It is my son’s 15th birthday today and as such I am sure I am meant to come up with some meaningful and heartfelt post about how awesome he is (because he is).

But he’s fifteen now, which means he’s half man and it’s probably not so cool for me to write about him all over the internet (if it ever was).

So I’m not going to share with you how awesome he is or how proud of him I am. I won’t tell you about how people who come into contact with him rave about him and make my heart swell. I won’t tell you about his compassion and kindness and his sense of humour which surpasses his dad’s by far – and is a teeny, tiny bit of a fraction off mine. I won’t tell you how much joy he brings to the people around him or how .. oh okay I see what I’m doing, I’ll stop.  [Read more…]

These are the Australians whose voices we need to hear

I was angry when I left the house today to attend the #LetThemStay rally outside the Department of Immigration. I was angry at Malcolm Turnbull, I was incensed by Peter Dutton and inside I was a seething mess because of the whole hideous situation in Australia. It continues to astound me that anybody could behave so heartlessly as to send people who had escaped persecution to hell. To a destination devoid of hope, a place of horror and abuse. It sickens me. Makes my insides curdle when I think about it. Brings tears to my eyes.

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Motherhood is not a challenge

If you are a Facebook user you’ve no doubt been inundated with pictures of other people’s kids going back to school – cute, pretty pictures of gingham dresses and school shirts that will never be the same shade of white ever again. They’re sweet to look at and sometimes even evoke a little emotion – although after seeing the 43rd photo of a shy smile in a school uniform it can get a little tiresome.

That’s the thing about looking at other people’s photos on Facebook. Someone else’s kids can get a bit boring after a while (as do their dinners and their sunsets). It’s great to see that everyone is happy and healthy (or at least showing you their happy, healthy moments) but is anyone really that interested in seeing little Timmy’s every single milestone? Everyone? Even those people who don’t have kids or those who have their own kids to look at?

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Of all the things to leave behind…

I was actually coping fairly well with the pre-flight stress. I hadn’t spotted anyone who looked likely to blow up our plane (I have been spotting faux hijackers since the late 70’s – I’m a maven like that), we weren’t running late, security and customs had been a breeze.

The only real worry I had (other than the entire trip) was when to take my Xanax, should I take it as we boarded, when I got petrified or when I wanted to sleep? Yes, I am amongst the select few who can really stress about taking a Xanax which unfortunately, makes it less effective.

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I can’t call the hairdresser

My absolute hatred of using the phone to make calls is playing havoc with my hair. It’s not that I’m twisting my hair anxiously while I’m trying to pluck up the courage to make a call (I am) and it’s not that the fear has reached the point where it’s falling out but it’s stopping me from having it cut.

I hate talking on the phone but my very worst thing is calling people I don’t know.  To top that off calling people I don’t know to make appointments for myself is so heinous that I don’t actually do it. Or at least I try not to unless it’s essential to my son, my husband or my health. Hairdressers don’t fall into the essential category.

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Travel advice for the neurotic

I know I should be excited about going back to South Africa for a week on Friday and I am.

I am thrilled that I am going to see my father and step-mother  and I’m going to show my son the country of my birth. I’m spending time with my two sisters and my father and that is a precious rarity. It will be great for the five minutes we get along before we fall back into past patterns and start to dwell on that incident from a billion years ago. In that way we are really much the same as any other family just with a few added dysfunctions.

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A smug mum once told me…

“I’ll have to wait 11 years before I have a kid free New Year’s Eve again” I overheard a wistful sounding mother say the other day. I felt one of those sentimental pangs you get when your child is no longer a toddler and you’ve embraced that smug “older and wiser” satisfaction you probably don’t deserve.

“Hang on to it while you can” I wanted to say to her which would have been very odd and possibly a bit creepy because (I hope) she wasn’t even aware I was eavesdropping on her conversation. It would also have been awful because I am not a fan of the smug, know-it-all kind who tell you how to nurture/care for/raise your kids. My worst is people telling you how you should feel. Especially about your own kids. [Read more…]