Is watching this little girl a bit of fun or is it an invasion of her privacy?

My maternal instinct is switched to overload which makes me a sucker for other people’s babies and toddlers (I‘m smart enough to know that it is easier to ooh and ahh over someone else’s kids who you just see in short spurts). In fact, I’ve  found recently, it’s even easier to get sentimental and mushy over kids in TV ads and YouTube videos, plus there is the added benefit of volume control and the off button.

And, as you will know, there is no shortage of jaw-achingly cute toddlers being made into viral YouTube wonders if a person wanted to deal with their maternal instinct online. Just yesterday this clip popped into my Facebook feed.

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Ever posted something on Facebook that you regret?

Just last week it was reported that Facebook had one billion active users in a day. One billion people logged onto a social media platform to catch up with family and friends, play Candy Crush or connect in some other way. It’s become so much a way of life that I’m guessing a high percentage of those people never even thought about the fact that they were on Facebook – they were merely online doing what they do.

Facebook has become the megaphone that allows us to share our thoughts. It’s no longer just the place you go to when you want to stalk your first boyfriend (maybe that was just my reason for joining). We’ve become so comfortable with talking online and with the way Facebook projects what we’re saying that sometime we forget to censor what we are thinking.

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This is not what happened when I went to school

electiveYesterday I went off to a school meeting with all the enthusiasm I could muster for doing anything which means leaving my bed,  that is – none at all. The meeting was to find out more about elective subject choices for Year 9 students and frankly I thought I would struggle to find a more boring basis for calling the parents together.

Turns out I was thinking about my subject choices when I was back at school in the olden days – a decade fondly referred to as the 80’s.

So as my my son dragged me off to listen to a man in a suit talk about elective geography I had my phone at the ready to check Twitter when he started to rattle off about mountain ranges and rock formations. I thought that when he got to cloud formations I might excuse myself for an urgent bathroom run. I was prepared*. Except I wasn’t.

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The 21 things regular parents do

When my son was younger I classified myself as a helicopter mum. The label carried no negative implications for me, I believed (and I still do) that my parenting was appropriate for his age. Imagine my horror when I discovered that it wasn’t actual helicopter parenting because “proper” helicoptering means doing his uni assignments and stalking him, er I mean watching him play with this friends when he is at school, at least according to this column that appeared in the weekend newspaper.

Stuck without a label (bonsai, tiger, extreme, dolphin and free-range aren’t doing it for me) I decided to give myself one. From now on in I will go for the “regular parent” label.

To avoid any issues with you calling yourself a regular parent only to discover that you aren’t (although your child is perfectly fine) let me help you with a list of things that regular parents do.

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Won’t somebody think of the children?

Maybe it is because I have the emotional maturity of a child that I can’t help seeing most things through the eye of a child. Some would counter that’s why I enjoyed Spelling Bee so much, others would point to my pre sugar-free sherbet addiction, others would just acknowledge my predisposition to the tantrum.

Perhaps it is this immaturity (or ability to see things through the eyes of the child) that reacted so badly to some advice given to women recently in a post headed Habits of Successful Women. Juanita Phillips was quoted as saying that she didn’t allow her children to do weekend sport because “it’s too hard”. “Weekends are for no schedule, fun, frivolity, flexibility and a slower pace” the article maintains.

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The one thing about parenting you’ll never miss

When you have a new baby and you haven’t slept more than three hours in a night for days on end, you are forgiven for thinking it will never end. It seems impossible to believe that months (okay maybe years) later you will find yourself creeping into your child’s room at night to watch them sleeping peacefully. But you will.

When your toddler wont go to sleep without being patted, rocked or without you lying next to his side so you can’t breathe or perform any other “insignificant” acts, it’s hard to believe that a time will come when you desperately want to feel the warmth of your child’s body next to yours.

When you are in the midst of nappies and multiple outfit changes you’ll get to the day you swear you never want to be in charge of another outfit change again. Then, one day when your child appears in shorts that show her bum cheeks and a top that is actually just a bra with sleeves, you will wish it was you who got to choose their clothes in the morning.

When you are forced to play another game of hide-and-seek or even worse, made to sit through a game of monopoly you’ll probably want to claw out your own eyeballs, but one day when your teenager is refusing to talk to you because he’s too busy with his own friends and not interested in “lame” games, you will wish that just once more, he would ask you to play a game with him.
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It’s the truism we all grudgingly acknowledge, the days are long but the years are short. The passage of time will taint the memories and apply a rose coloured tint. One day everything will seem so much more bearable and you will miss the day to day of kids. Trust me. It will happen

Except for homework. There is no tint that can be applied to the hideous reality of overseeing or even signing off homework. There will never be a time when you sit down and idly wish you could go through the last minute panic of an assignment not ready by the day of completion, or be asked to source green cardboard of a certain thickness no later than ten minutes ago. There is no time in your future life that you will ever think “I wish I could nag my child to do homework just one more time.”

Homework is the scourge of childhood and I am never ever going to miss it.

Inside Out: Girl power and the “forgotten” boys

I can’t help feeling a little sorry for Michelle Collins right now, even though I don’t know her and in fact, before today, had never heard of her. But that’s changing in a big way as I watch my Twitter feed furl out tweet after tweet

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Collins wrote a piece which appeared in The Courier Mail  lamenting the fact that there were no positive male role models in the newly released movie Inside Out. She explains [Read more…]

#5minutes with Kerri and Lana : The Ugly Child Edition

Recently there was a post on Reddit from a woman who wrote saying that she was aware that her child was ugly or, er not conventionally attractive. Kerri wrote a post about it on Essential Kids and caused a few people to say things that were quite ugly or, er not conventionally attractive.

We chatted about ugly kids here. But far and away the best part is how antsy Kerri gets at the end. And my facial reaction to her snippy farewell.
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What I wish you knew about teachers

In a previous life, many incarnations of Lana ago, I was a primary school teacher. Not a “big school” teacher but an infants teacher – I loved (still do) little children and could think of no finer way to get paid then to spend all day with small kids.

Young kids are so much less complicated then their adult counterparts, they are innocent and honest, mostly loving and kind and so open to the world. Being a teacher seemed like the perfect occupation, if I got to avoid the staff room drama I would get to spend time in the company of really good people.

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The compromising photos we probably shouldn’t see

You know that a post may be terribly misinterpreted when you start to write the disclaimer before you’ve even really clarified your thoughts… but here it is. This post is not meant to stand in judgement of anyone who reads it, it’s my view which may be different to yours at best or wrong at worst.
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