Sadly, our family has had it's first casualty in the fish tank. Crystal, the orange goldfish is no more. And as usual we can't have a fish die like a normal family.
Tuesday is our home day. By that I mean it's the only day during the week we get to come home and stay home. No activities. So I like to use Tuesday as the big push for getting large chunks of homework chores done. I call it, "Homework and menial labor" day. We were home about 3.2 seconds when the fighting began. Not sure why they were so slow, maybe someone was sick, who knows.
It wasn't anything new, I've had kids do homework and do chores while fighting before - I've been doing this gig for 11 years you know. So we got through it and I decided to let them have some fun time. BIG MISTAKE.
My kids are now watching the orginal Batman series. It's hilarious to watch their reactions to things, not so much the story - when there is one, but mainly to the clothes. All 3 kids are horrified that Batman and Robin wear their underwear on the outside. I just say it was the 60's and try not to judge.
My main mistake came in leaving the room as I've been trying to help a friend with a computing issue she's having. I made it about 5 minutes when the screaming and sobbing started. Apparently someone shoved someone who then accidentally hit someone else. Then the first someone, not the second, decided that the third one looked like they were about to hit someone so they did a pre-emptive strike, you know, to preserve the family. I actually stopped listening to the first someone the first time around. I saw there was no spewing blood and decided my salvaging my mental health was more important I sent all three pissed off minions to their rooms.
As Connor was leaving, and sobbing, she half mentioned that she couldn't see Crystal in the tank. I, being mother of the year, mentioned that perhaps she was hiding from all the screaming.
I spent the next few minutes in blissful silence and completed my computer work and came out to call everyone out.
That's when I saw that Crystal was gone too. So I started peering around trying to find and then I noticed that she was not there. At all. Hmmm. I start looking around on the floor, maybe the stupid thing committed suicide, I dunno, do fish get depressed?
No fish. Hmmmm. Would the other fish have eaten her and left nothing? A little grossed out at the thought I lean in and stick my hand in the tank. We have one of those holey rocks, maybe she's hiding in there. I put my face right up against the wall and I lift the rock but it slipped and slammed back down, forcing a very dead fish to get squirted up right at the glass straight at my eyes. I was proud of my myself, I didn't yell or scream too much. A little swearing, barely worth mentioning.
My current plan is to cover the fish and ignore the problem but a quick call to my friend the fish expert says no. Must remove. Damnit.
I call the kids down and explain they were sent to their rooms because normal people can watch tv without poking, punching and hitting each other. The entire time I spoke I poked, jabbed and annoyed each one. Then I mentioned that by the way, one of the fish didn't make it. The girls froze in their tracks and demanded to know which one. When I said Crystal, both girls began to sob hysterically and that's when Ted walked in from work.
I give him credit though, he did not turn around and run sobbing back to his car. I get a little container and scoop the little fish out and we have a ceremony in the front yard to bury it. As I walk out the door I turned on Teddy, "Don't you DARE say anything shitty now, they are both really upset" Teddy looks aghast. As if he would ever say anything unkind to his sisters. Really, I have a cruel streak in my brain to think such bad things of him.
I dig a hole and jump the fish and ask if anyone has any kind words. Connor says she was an extraordinary fish and Tessi sobs. Then Connor asks when she can get a new fish and she and Tessi start planning the next one's name. It was decided that it would be Crystal II. Of course.
At the table Tessi mentions that she didn't get to say a proper goodbye to Crystal and Connor said don't worry, we'll just dig her up. Ummmm, no, we will not dig her up. Then we had a talk about why we weren't digging the fish's body up. Of course it doesn't help that Ted keeps making quiet comments that at least we weren't having fish and chips for dinner. Rat bag....
I like to think most families could have scooped up, buried and farewelled the fish a bit quicker than we did. Certainly with less threatening. But no matter, the fish is gone and we're planning the arrival of the new Crystal. I think we will wait though, until Tessi can walk by the front windows without bellowing, "Goodbye Crystal, you were the best fish ever!"
An American family living in Australia. While we all speak English here, I wouldn't say we all speak the same language.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
A Clarification for Pride's Sake
I now have undeniable proof that my mother is dead. Not that I really questioned it. But like Elvis, Jack the Ripper, Michael Jackson and every person who ever starred on a soap opera, no one is really dead until they are DEAD.
That being said I now know she is gone. Yesterday I tried out posting to this blog with my spiffy mobile app. I LOVE MY iPHONE!! I do! I do! It was very cool to ignore Tessi and Teddy at the playground and type away my angst. Trust me, it helped everyone in that moment.
However today I noticed that the post title was Ifh;ae*^%#*m Bored. I can assure you that while I am no Rhodes Scholar, I would hold my public elementary and secondary as well as degrees in Communications and Criminal Justice from American University up to the standard of being able to spell the word "I'm" In fact I don't think I'm being too boastful when I say that my confidence allows me to say that "I am" is also in my spelling repertoire.
It is this little spelling "whoops" that assures me of my mother's demise. No way in HELL she would have let me go 24 hours without knowing I had brought shame to the house of my father by announcing to the known universe that I was in fact, an illiterate ignoramus. Incorrect spelling? Are we not civilized? Why not walk around trouser-less singing "Deutchland Uber Alis" during African swallow swooping season. It's a world gone mad.
No, no, if she were alive somewhere in the world she would have found me. Found me if she had to crawl out of the desert on her hands and knees to point out my grammar gaffe and find out when I had decided dangling participles were now socially acceptable. She could tolerate many things but not poor grammar.
I mention this with all frivolity because in the end, I did fell like an illiterate ignoramus bringing shame to the house of my father with my typo goof. Damnit, I was just HORRIFIED to see the title and wondered how in the name that happened. I'm sure it's just a programming error written into the Blogger app. Something that tells the program that when it sees ' to instead type oYUT^$*($(%$. Only to a programmer that would make sense.
Yes, Ted I'm talking about you and your ilk.
No matter. What's done is done. There's no going back. Or is there...the edit button can be your friend. The world's best "do over" item.
Mom, if you are watching from somewhere...I typed it correctly, it was someone else's fault.
And I love you. I wish you had corrected for me.
That being said I now know she is gone. Yesterday I tried out posting to this blog with my spiffy mobile app. I LOVE MY iPHONE!! I do! I do! It was very cool to ignore Tessi and Teddy at the playground and type away my angst. Trust me, it helped everyone in that moment.
However today I noticed that the post title was Ifh;ae*^%#*m Bored. I can assure you that while I am no Rhodes Scholar, I would hold my public elementary and secondary as well as degrees in Communications and Criminal Justice from American University up to the standard of being able to spell the word "I'm" In fact I don't think I'm being too boastful when I say that my confidence allows me to say that "I am" is also in my spelling repertoire.
It is this little spelling "whoops" that assures me of my mother's demise. No way in HELL she would have let me go 24 hours without knowing I had brought shame to the house of my father by announcing to the known universe that I was in fact, an illiterate ignoramus. Incorrect spelling? Are we not civilized? Why not walk around trouser-less singing "Deutchland Uber Alis" during African swallow swooping season. It's a world gone mad.
No, no, if she were alive somewhere in the world she would have found me. Found me if she had to crawl out of the desert on her hands and knees to point out my grammar gaffe and find out when I had decided dangling participles were now socially acceptable. She could tolerate many things but not poor grammar.
I mention this with all frivolity because in the end, I did fell like an illiterate ignoramus bringing shame to the house of my father with my typo goof. Damnit, I was just HORRIFIED to see the title and wondered how in the name that happened. I'm sure it's just a programming error written into the Blogger app. Something that tells the program that when it sees ' to instead type oYUT^$*($(%$. Only to a programmer that would make sense.
Yes, Ted I'm talking about you and your ilk.
No matter. What's done is done. There's no going back. Or is there...the edit button can be your friend. The world's best "do over" item.
Mom, if you are watching from somewhere...I typed it correctly, it was someone else's fault.
And I love you. I wish you had corrected for me.
Monday, February 27, 2012
I'm Bored.
Quite possibly the stupidest phrase ever uttered. This phrase is an award winner not only for the word meanings but also for the timing in which they are said.
I'm bored said when sitting around in a concrete block room with no stimuli is stupid because it's obvious. No kidding Einstein, of course you're bored. Tell me something new.
I'm bored said after an intensely exciting activity has completed and before the next one starts is silly because you just look impatient.
I'm bored said to your mother after she has run all over hell to get you things, take you to and from places is simply unintelligent.
Complaining to your mother that your friend will be bored coming over on Friday because computers and Xbox are still banned is stupid in biblical proportions. Doing it when you have tv, a swimming pool, 6000 Nerf guns, $100's in Warhammer figures, a trampoline, skateboards and bikes and the bush is a new level of mind numbing density that physicists around are lining up to argue if String Theory could explain it. And by the way, it can't.
Saying all that to a mother that's already pissed off at you for commenting, "Hey watch it!" when dings the side of the car door is tantamount to shouting," Hey total stranger, please kill me slowly with marshmellows and Mod Podge!" it's off the charts. There is no gauge to measure the level of this.
That's the thing about parenting that's the hardest. You have kids saying and doing thing so colossally stupid that your head spins the same things that if it was adult you would have society's full support in beating their faces in with your car keys and dropping buckets of tar on them. See I know grown ups that are jerks and who say clueless, heartless and mean things. I handle my anger at them by either ignoring them or utilizing my talents in revenge.
It's hell being clever and a right foul bitch sometimes, but other times it's pretty damn handy.
But with kids the rules are completely different. Since its children not only am I not allowed to do those things I expected to SMILE through their diatribe and say whimsically about how life isn't that bad and Mommy will find something for them to do.
What...the...Hell?
So let me get this straight - I'm to be nurturing and caring to people actively trying to piss me off and hurt my feelings? When for the last 20 years Ive been honing my skills to deal with people to act this way in revenge and crushing spirits?
So now I take deep breaths. I count to 10, sometimes several times. I have mantas: Unclench your jaw. Release the negative energy. Don't daydream about swinging for the cheap seats. That sort thing.
So when you catch me muttering to myself, I'm not crazy. I'm rechanneling my thoughts and energies into a more positive and structured usage.
And my kids will survive the day without me plotting against them. At least for a little while.
I'm bored said when sitting around in a concrete block room with no stimuli is stupid because it's obvious. No kidding Einstein, of course you're bored. Tell me something new.
I'm bored said after an intensely exciting activity has completed and before the next one starts is silly because you just look impatient.
I'm bored said to your mother after she has run all over hell to get you things, take you to and from places is simply unintelligent.
Complaining to your mother that your friend will be bored coming over on Friday because computers and Xbox are still banned is stupid in biblical proportions. Doing it when you have tv, a swimming pool, 6000 Nerf guns, $100's in Warhammer figures, a trampoline, skateboards and bikes and the bush is a new level of mind numbing density that physicists around are lining up to argue if String Theory could explain it. And by the way, it can't.
Saying all that to a mother that's already pissed off at you for commenting, "Hey watch it!" when dings the side of the car door is tantamount to shouting," Hey total stranger, please kill me slowly with marshmellows and Mod Podge!" it's off the charts. There is no gauge to measure the level of this.
That's the thing about parenting that's the hardest. You have kids saying and doing thing so colossally stupid that your head spins the same things that if it was adult you would have society's full support in beating their faces in with your car keys and dropping buckets of tar on them. See I know grown ups that are jerks and who say clueless, heartless and mean things. I handle my anger at them by either ignoring them or utilizing my talents in revenge.
It's hell being clever and a right foul bitch sometimes, but other times it's pretty damn handy.
But with kids the rules are completely different. Since its children not only am I not allowed to do those things I expected to SMILE through their diatribe and say whimsically about how life isn't that bad and Mommy will find something for them to do.
What...the...Hell?
So let me get this straight - I'm to be nurturing and caring to people actively trying to piss me off and hurt my feelings? When for the last 20 years Ive been honing my skills to deal with people to act this way in revenge and crushing spirits?
So now I take deep breaths. I count to 10, sometimes several times. I have mantas: Unclench your jaw. Release the negative energy. Don't daydream about swinging for the cheap seats. That sort thing.
So when you catch me muttering to myself, I'm not crazy. I'm rechanneling my thoughts and energies into a more positive and structured usage.
And my kids will survive the day without me plotting against them. At least for a little while.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
An Update for the Basketball Problem
Since so many people responded to my plea for help about the young boy on Tessi's basketball team I felt I should post a bit of an update.
I did send an email to my friends whose girls on the team. Both reacted not only kinder than I anticipated but exactly in kind with the Aussie "fair go" feeling that I have come to love. Both moms responded that I shouldn't approach the little boys mum, she should enjoy her happiness as long as possible. Were there ways they could help? Since it was obvious this was a case of a child needing some extra help, rather than extra parenting, both ladies jumped on board full force asking how best to help out.
They humble me.
We had our first practice session this morning and it was great. Instead of this glaring "US" vs "THEM" feeling it was about what it should be - teaching all the kids to do as well as they could on the team. We decided to teach the kids to stick their hands out in a "low 5" position when he come by trying to bang into them. This way he gets his sensory fix (the need for contact to get his bearings) and the other kids are a part of helping with that without getting body checked into the ground. To help with
To help with the frustration caused by changing baskets we are going to have 1 parent stand at the end underneath the basket holding a red card. If the child gets the ball and starts charging down the court and no red card, they are to turn around and head for the other basket. That's really for all the kids, not our AS kid.
We talked about rules about subbing on the court. Every child has to come out at least 2 times to let a team mate play and if they whine, cry or ignore the coach they are off for 2 rotations.
We are going to practice in the uniforms so all the kids can see their team mates and learn to recognize them and then not steal the ball from their own team.
At the end of today's practice the mom of the little boy gushed with all the effort put into making this work for the kids.
It's the best I've felt in a long time about working with kids with extra needs.
This feeling isn't permanent, there will be many tales of woe with this team. There's nothing easy about any aspect of life on the Spectrum. However, it least there is hope. Some days the worst part about living on the Spectrum is that there is no hope. Well, not today. Not with the 6 and 7 year old Screen Shots.
I'm so proud to be a part of this group. Thank you.
I did send an email to my friends whose girls on the team. Both reacted not only kinder than I anticipated but exactly in kind with the Aussie "fair go" feeling that I have come to love. Both moms responded that I shouldn't approach the little boys mum, she should enjoy her happiness as long as possible. Were there ways they could help? Since it was obvious this was a case of a child needing some extra help, rather than extra parenting, both ladies jumped on board full force asking how best to help out.
They humble me.
We had our first practice session this morning and it was great. Instead of this glaring "US" vs "THEM" feeling it was about what it should be - teaching all the kids to do as well as they could on the team. We decided to teach the kids to stick their hands out in a "low 5" position when he come by trying to bang into them. This way he gets his sensory fix (the need for contact to get his bearings) and the other kids are a part of helping with that without getting body checked into the ground. To help with
To help with the frustration caused by changing baskets we are going to have 1 parent stand at the end underneath the basket holding a red card. If the child gets the ball and starts charging down the court and no red card, they are to turn around and head for the other basket. That's really for all the kids, not our AS kid.
We talked about rules about subbing on the court. Every child has to come out at least 2 times to let a team mate play and if they whine, cry or ignore the coach they are off for 2 rotations.
We are going to practice in the uniforms so all the kids can see their team mates and learn to recognize them and then not steal the ball from their own team.
At the end of today's practice the mom of the little boy gushed with all the effort put into making this work for the kids.
It's the best I've felt in a long time about working with kids with extra needs.
This feeling isn't permanent, there will be many tales of woe with this team. There's nothing easy about any aspect of life on the Spectrum. However, it least there is hope. Some days the worst part about living on the Spectrum is that there is no hope. Well, not today. Not with the 6 and 7 year old Screen Shots.
I'm so proud to be a part of this group. Thank you.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Living with the Natives
No this isn't a post about the plight of the Aboriginals nor is about living people at all. It's about the real natives of Australia: Spiders.
I have a friend in Massachusetts who has a slight phobia problem with spiders so I'm betting she just clicked away. Sorry Kristin, I know you'll never come visit me.
Anyway no True Blue Aussie morning would be complete without a complete face plant into a huge spider web. I know my American friends are saying right now, "So what, I've eaten a few spider webs myself" Not like these and I bet most of our very tall friends are used to walking into them either. Ted has walked into more spider webs in the last 5 years here than he has his entire life. I know this because he screams this fact, plus a few unmentionable words every single time he gets one.
This picture is of the new condominium complex a few of our natives have built in our front yard. See the large water stains on the road? Nope, those are webs. You can't see in this picture but the guy on the left has strung his little hammock from the top of the space age lamp post down to the ground, BEHIND the grass you see, down by the white gate. The space lamp on the right, the one with a white sail next to it? That's another web.
Here's another angle. You can really start to see how complex the little buggers how built things up.
It's easy to be impressed 20 feet back with a zoom lens.
I have a friend in Massachusetts who has a slight phobia problem with spiders so I'm betting she just clicked away. Sorry Kristin, I know you'll never come visit me.
Anyway no True Blue Aussie morning would be complete without a complete face plant into a huge spider web. I know my American friends are saying right now, "So what, I've eaten a few spider webs myself" Not like these and I bet most of our very tall friends are used to walking into them either. Ted has walked into more spider webs in the last 5 years here than he has his entire life. I know this because he screams this fact, plus a few unmentionable words every single time he gets one.
This picture is of the new condominium complex a few of our natives have built in our front yard. See the large water stains on the road? Nope, those are webs. You can't see in this picture but the guy on the left has strung his little hammock from the top of the space age lamp post down to the ground, BEHIND the grass you see, down by the white gate. The space lamp on the right, the one with a white sail next to it? That's another web.
It's easy to be impressed 20 feet back with a zoom lens.
This guy. Ahh, this guy. This is the guy that inspired todays post. I came within a hair's breath of walking head first not only into the web but face first into the spider. Thank you Monty for jumping out at me from nowhere and taking my feet out from under me so I'd stop to pet you. I know I swore at you and threatened to "beat your furry ass into the ground" but I take it all back. Anyway back to Arachnidis Scarious. If you click on the picture I think you can see how big the web is. Trust me, once I stopped dry-heaving off the deck and sobbing for my mother I thought it was pretty awesome.
I'm posting this angle because I really wanted to show the levels of webs. Unfortunately I'm a crap photographer so you still have to use your imagination. The web reminds me of a 3D chess board. Many levels, all over the place. Again, an amazing bit of nature to watch as soon as you get your heart rate back under 150.
I do want to point out that these spiders are the good ones. They are your garden ones, the ones that kill mozzies-Australian for mosquito. They do not like humans at all. The only humans these spiders have killed are the ones like me who bang their heads against brick walls as they run away screaming from them.
Since we're all good friends here I'm sure you decided to be gracious and not notice my overgrown grass and the large overflowing garbage can. I appreciate that.
I must be starting to get used to SOME of these outdoor pets. Not once during my screaming, sobbing and whinging rampage over the invading spiders did I say, "I wish I had gone to that cricket game this morning"
So here's to you Mr. Spider Man, you mozzie eating, architect of inadvertent face masks and bouts of screaming and swearing - you still weren't enough to make me pine for cricket.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions
After school yesterday the girls started talking about a boy at school who
was chasing everyone and trying take things from kids. He's in ED, a
special class on our campus that helps kids from other schools who are
having severe anger management troubles. Both Tessi and her friend plus
Connor started lamenting the woes of this holy terror Ben. Connor then
said that he chased her today and had her pinned against the wall and
wouldn't let her go for a while. Immediately I launched into
ass-kicking mode as I myself, had a bit of a stramash today with some ED
kids while at Canteen.
I explained to Connor today that she has every right to defend herself if someone is behaving badly and hurting her. I said the next time Ben or anyone else pinned her like that and refused to let her go she should pull her knee up between their legs and dry to drive it up to their chin.
Boy or girl, that hurts.
I got a few giggles but then all the girls agreed it was a good idea. Ben was a real problem. Even Tool Cool for Words Teddy agreed. He didnt know the kid offhand but he offered to rack the kid for her tomorrow if Connor didn't think she could do it. Ahh, the bonds of love, I'm feeling it now. I continued on, saying that Daddy and I would go and talk to the principal and she didn't have to put up with this.
Feeling love and support Connor announced she did have "back up" with her friends and felt she could handle it.
Thats when she mentioned Ben was in Year 1.
Connor is in Year 3.
Then Connor added that Ben was very short for a Year 1, to which the younger girls agreed very loudly. "Yes, he's angry, but he is really, really short"
I have just told my freakishly tall Year 3 daughter - she is taller than many YEAR 5 kids, to rigorously defend herself by viciously kneeing a freakishly small Year 1 kid.
Obviously I back peddled as fast as I could and told her to try gently pushing back at his shoulders. To use her words to stop him and of course call a teacher for help.
I think you and I both know that I'm getting a call from school today.
I explained to Connor today that she has every right to defend herself if someone is behaving badly and hurting her. I said the next time Ben or anyone else pinned her like that and refused to let her go she should pull her knee up between their legs and dry to drive it up to their chin.
Boy or girl, that hurts.
I got a few giggles but then all the girls agreed it was a good idea. Ben was a real problem. Even Tool Cool for Words Teddy agreed. He didnt know the kid offhand but he offered to rack the kid for her tomorrow if Connor didn't think she could do it. Ahh, the bonds of love, I'm feeling it now. I continued on, saying that Daddy and I would go and talk to the principal and she didn't have to put up with this.
Feeling love and support Connor announced she did have "back up" with her friends and felt she could handle it.
Thats when she mentioned Ben was in Year 1.
Connor is in Year 3.
Then Connor added that Ben was very short for a Year 1, to which the younger girls agreed very loudly. "Yes, he's angry, but he is really, really short"
I have just told my freakishly tall Year 3 daughter - she is taller than many YEAR 5 kids, to rigorously defend herself by viciously kneeing a freakishly small Year 1 kid.
Obviously I back peddled as fast as I could and told her to try gently pushing back at his shoulders. To use her words to stop him and of course call a teacher for help.
I think you and I both know that I'm getting a call from school today.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Rejecting Realities
I have canteen duty today and sometimes I like to wear a funny t-shirt. Something that amuses me and usually makes people stare at me a bit. This is getting harder and harder to do as 1) I've already worn my cool ones and haven't bought more and 2) it's harder and harder to raid Ted's closet 4 out of 5 shirts are Atlassian ones with jokes that only Atlassian employees get.
I found this one this morning, "I reject your reality and substitute my own" A classic Mythbusters one. As I was debating it's merits I realized that it was more than a funny saying, it's my damn job description. That's the stage I've reached with the boy, formerly known as my son. I'll type his name again when I can stand to see it or his face without gritting my teeth.
Yesterday, nope still too pissed to type it all, let's just say he did something so stupid that it's almost impressive. The impressive part lies in his reasoning for doing it and his thoughts for being sure he'd get away with it. Mainly that he forgot that I get email conformations when he buys games and he was sure he could convince me that he actually bought it months ago with his dad's approval.
See his reality now is that he can lie and get away with it. He doesn't like something and he will lie. He lies when it makes more sense to tell the truth. It's bizarre to watch him spin his web of deception and think that another human being will believe him. He really becomes quite enraged when I am so discourteous as to not only point out the lie but then have the gall to call him a liar.
Mainly because the more he says it the more it becomes real. His reality. My job is to reject it. And oh I am. I told him yesterday that we both knew I could not force him to stop lying. It's silly to even suggest that I can. What I can do is make his life a living HELL when he is caught. He tried to be cool and come back with, "My life already is Hell" Funny, that one is. That one almost made me smile. He really believes that this is the worst part. I'm not going to do what that parent in North Carolina did and shoot his computer...but I do plan on making him wish for it. At least then it will be over.
So from now on when someone asks what I do as a Stay at Home Mom I will answer with an official, t-shirt sanctioned job description. I reject your reality and substitute my own.
I need to get it printed on different colors though....constant black might be intimidating.
I found this one this morning, "I reject your reality and substitute my own" A classic Mythbusters one. As I was debating it's merits I realized that it was more than a funny saying, it's my damn job description. That's the stage I've reached with the boy, formerly known as my son. I'll type his name again when I can stand to see it or his face without gritting my teeth.
Yesterday, nope still too pissed to type it all, let's just say he did something so stupid that it's almost impressive. The impressive part lies in his reasoning for doing it and his thoughts for being sure he'd get away with it. Mainly that he forgot that I get email conformations when he buys games and he was sure he could convince me that he actually bought it months ago with his dad's approval.
See his reality now is that he can lie and get away with it. He doesn't like something and he will lie. He lies when it makes more sense to tell the truth. It's bizarre to watch him spin his web of deception and think that another human being will believe him. He really becomes quite enraged when I am so discourteous as to not only point out the lie but then have the gall to call him a liar.
Mainly because the more he says it the more it becomes real. His reality. My job is to reject it. And oh I am. I told him yesterday that we both knew I could not force him to stop lying. It's silly to even suggest that I can. What I can do is make his life a living HELL when he is caught. He tried to be cool and come back with, "My life already is Hell" Funny, that one is. That one almost made me smile. He really believes that this is the worst part. I'm not going to do what that parent in North Carolina did and shoot his computer...but I do plan on making him wish for it. At least then it will be over.
So from now on when someone asks what I do as a Stay at Home Mom I will answer with an official, t-shirt sanctioned job description. I reject your reality and substitute my own.
I need to get it printed on different colors though....constant black might be intimidating.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
I'm Afriad I'm Becomming One of THOSE People
I have a problem. I'm in between two groups of people and I have to make a decision as to what to do and I really don't know how to handle it.
Tessi is on a basketball team of 7 and 8 year old girls and boys. She has 2 of her super BFF's on her team and not one kid knows the first thing about basketball. That's ok. They are all out their doing really silly stuff but they are having fun. Some of the time anyway. A lot of the time, no....they are not having fun. There in lies the problem.
Two of the boys are aggressive. They are both constantly banging into each other, pushing and shoving. They push and shove everyone else, regardless of ball position or floor position or well, anything. The ref whistles and they will run down the court with the ball long after the whistle has been blown, taking time away from the game to set back up. They will not leave the court when time to sub out and they take the ball out of the hands of their teammates. Neither boy seems even aware any one else at all, kids or adults.
Both boys are on the Autistic Spectrum. I know this because yesterday I recognized one of them.
When I realized the boy was familiar I looked to the sidelines and sure enough, I saw his mother. A very sweet lady I met at Lifestart, an early intervention service here in Australia that I took both Connor and Tessi to. Tessi was in a group with this little boy. I remember him well. I walked over and started chatting to the mom and she remembered me and was excited to see me. She was thrilled to hear that both my girls were in mainstream schools and elated to see her boy and Tessi reunited on the team. She said that her son was doing well at St. Lucy's - a local private school for kids with special needs. She went on and on about how she had been worried that he couldn't do basketball because he didn't know the rules but none of the kids knew them so it was ok, right? She was so happy...her son...on a regular team. The glee, relief and pride. It was all there on her face. The other little boy, another boy from Lifestart and from St. Lucy's. They are friends. Or at least they understand that they recognize each other and neither one yells when they hit each other.
How do I tell this proud mother that the other kids on the team and a few of the parents want her son beaten to a bloody pulp? Right now everyone just thinks they are ill-mannered, rude little monsters. They have no idea that the boys have special needs. They don't know he has problems regulating his emotions and he has no idea about the differences between appropriate behavior and not. He can't discern between being ok to take the ball from one kid but not the other. He NEEDS to feel the contact of banging into people because it's how he keeps in sync with his surroundings. Just the fact that he is able to participate in a mainstream game is bordering on miraculous.
Why am I in the middle? Just announce to the other teammates that the boys need extra help or go to the mom and tell her that the parents are about to revolt? It's not the simple.
My girls have always held a dubious place on the Autistic Spectrum. Because they are mild when we would go to groups and therapies other people would look at us like we really shouldn't be there. I used to comment that I felt we weren't Black enough for them. Meaning that the other parents looked at each other with this, "This is our club, why is SHE here?" No one was blatantly rude, but the condescension, ooph, that was present. It would be supremely annoying to try and get help for our problems only to hear from other parents that they wished they had it so good. Now my girls are in a mainstream school and can participate in some activities, but we all worked hard for that, it wasn't easy. It still isn't easy.
Now I feel like my girls are "passing" for normal. I do not hide that they are Autistic, NEVER. I say it upfront to parents when I feel they need to know. If they don't need to know than I don't tell them. Acting this way now has me feel like I'm with the cool kids looking down on the different kid. And it shames me.
I don't want to be that person. That parent that acts like they've forgotten what it's like when other kids stare at your kids and wonder what the Hell is wrong. That parent that doesn't remember getting glares from other parents with the, "Do you even know how to discipline your child" look. I am always watchful for kids reactions to things and I try to act understanding until I find out the situation. I remember every scornful look I've ever received. Every glare, every pitiful look. I have all the pictures I took of the girls to help make visual cue cards for them. I can see every look of disappointment on Teddy's face when we said we couldn't' do some activity because the girls couldn't handle it.
I haven't forgotten a God Damn thing.
But where is the balance? Don't kids deserve to just play a game without being afraid of being pummeled for no reason? Doesn't a child who has worked for YEARS deserve a chance to play a simple game?
I will talk to the mother. I don't want her to be blindsided by people she doesn't know. I will take my daughter's close friends parents aside and talk to them. I don't know the answer. I'm pretty sure it's one of those situations where someone is going to end up crying and it will be adult. I'm positive I will be one of those adults but still not sure which side I'll be crying for.
Tessi is on a basketball team of 7 and 8 year old girls and boys. She has 2 of her super BFF's on her team and not one kid knows the first thing about basketball. That's ok. They are all out their doing really silly stuff but they are having fun. Some of the time anyway. A lot of the time, no....they are not having fun. There in lies the problem.
Two of the boys are aggressive. They are both constantly banging into each other, pushing and shoving. They push and shove everyone else, regardless of ball position or floor position or well, anything. The ref whistles and they will run down the court with the ball long after the whistle has been blown, taking time away from the game to set back up. They will not leave the court when time to sub out and they take the ball out of the hands of their teammates. Neither boy seems even aware any one else at all, kids or adults.
Both boys are on the Autistic Spectrum. I know this because yesterday I recognized one of them.
When I realized the boy was familiar I looked to the sidelines and sure enough, I saw his mother. A very sweet lady I met at Lifestart, an early intervention service here in Australia that I took both Connor and Tessi to. Tessi was in a group with this little boy. I remember him well. I walked over and started chatting to the mom and she remembered me and was excited to see me. She was thrilled to hear that both my girls were in mainstream schools and elated to see her boy and Tessi reunited on the team. She said that her son was doing well at St. Lucy's - a local private school for kids with special needs. She went on and on about how she had been worried that he couldn't do basketball because he didn't know the rules but none of the kids knew them so it was ok, right? She was so happy...her son...on a regular team. The glee, relief and pride. It was all there on her face. The other little boy, another boy from Lifestart and from St. Lucy's. They are friends. Or at least they understand that they recognize each other and neither one yells when they hit each other.
How do I tell this proud mother that the other kids on the team and a few of the parents want her son beaten to a bloody pulp? Right now everyone just thinks they are ill-mannered, rude little monsters. They have no idea that the boys have special needs. They don't know he has problems regulating his emotions and he has no idea about the differences between appropriate behavior and not. He can't discern between being ok to take the ball from one kid but not the other. He NEEDS to feel the contact of banging into people because it's how he keeps in sync with his surroundings. Just the fact that he is able to participate in a mainstream game is bordering on miraculous.
Why am I in the middle? Just announce to the other teammates that the boys need extra help or go to the mom and tell her that the parents are about to revolt? It's not the simple.
My girls have always held a dubious place on the Autistic Spectrum. Because they are mild when we would go to groups and therapies other people would look at us like we really shouldn't be there. I used to comment that I felt we weren't Black enough for them. Meaning that the other parents looked at each other with this, "This is our club, why is SHE here?" No one was blatantly rude, but the condescension, ooph, that was present. It would be supremely annoying to try and get help for our problems only to hear from other parents that they wished they had it so good. Now my girls are in a mainstream school and can participate in some activities, but we all worked hard for that, it wasn't easy. It still isn't easy.
Now I feel like my girls are "passing" for normal. I do not hide that they are Autistic, NEVER. I say it upfront to parents when I feel they need to know. If they don't need to know than I don't tell them. Acting this way now has me feel like I'm with the cool kids looking down on the different kid. And it shames me.
I don't want to be that person. That parent that acts like they've forgotten what it's like when other kids stare at your kids and wonder what the Hell is wrong. That parent that doesn't remember getting glares from other parents with the, "Do you even know how to discipline your child" look. I am always watchful for kids reactions to things and I try to act understanding until I find out the situation. I remember every scornful look I've ever received. Every glare, every pitiful look. I have all the pictures I took of the girls to help make visual cue cards for them. I can see every look of disappointment on Teddy's face when we said we couldn't' do some activity because the girls couldn't handle it.
I haven't forgotten a God Damn thing.
But where is the balance? Don't kids deserve to just play a game without being afraid of being pummeled for no reason? Doesn't a child who has worked for YEARS deserve a chance to play a simple game?
I will talk to the mother. I don't want her to be blindsided by people she doesn't know. I will take my daughter's close friends parents aside and talk to them. I don't know the answer. I'm pretty sure it's one of those situations where someone is going to end up crying and it will be adult. I'm positive I will be one of those adults but still not sure which side I'll be crying for.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Nothing Crazy is Going to Happen Today
Nope, not one damn thing. I mean it. I built my iKea hack yesterday and I'm reorganizing/cleaning the kitchen. Nope, not one bit of looniness today.
No, I don't believe it either but I'm trying to be hopeful. Goals are simplified for the day. 1 load of laundry done. I have uniforms for the next few days. Ted is cooking all meals 'cause he finds it relaxing. *giggle* Yea, I have no idea why either but what the Hell.
A good day will be here or else.
If not, well then the next post will be ready to write itself.
No, I don't believe it either but I'm trying to be hopeful. Goals are simplified for the day. 1 load of laundry done. I have uniforms for the next few days. Ted is cooking all meals 'cause he finds it relaxing. *giggle* Yea, I have no idea why either but what the Hell.
A good day will be here or else.
If not, well then the next post will be ready to write itself.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Satan's To do List
So endeth one of worst parenting weeks of my life. This past week reads like a diary Satan's to-do list. I'm starting this off with a diet coke or tea spit take warning. Not because I'm confidant in my humor but I suspect the sheer horror of the amount of Hell this week will be shocking.
Satan's Calendar of Events:
Monday - Ted and I drive the girls to piano and basketball, which is tricky since they both start at 5. While in on our way I get a phone call telling me that Tessi's game has been moved to 5:45. The mom offers for me to drop off Tessi to her and she'll take her so Ted and I can get to piano on time. Great! Never been to her house so I get her address 19 whateverthename and we drive straight there. Only the house doesn't look right. The gate is padlocked and there's a dog and I know they don't have a dog. I can't call her back as her number was blocked. So we turn around and race off to piano. I start calling everyone I can think of who has her number and then I remembered that she too has an iPhone and email her to call me. Turns out I'm an idiot and her house number is 99. Ok, no problem, drop Connor off, head back and first house we find is 99A. Then 99B. Which is it? I refuse to call again but we're in luck, one more house and we're at 99. Also, I'm sporting a massive sinus headache and holding my head together with my fingers.
That night I went to the school P & C meeting which lasted to 10 because of arguing over parking 0 got to speak to the mayor. WOOO HOO. and heated discussions about offering ethics classes in school. I ended up volunteering to help start up and run the class at our school. WTH? How did that happen?
Doesn't sound too bad right? Just a little stuff up and run around. Not really worth mentioning.
Tuesday - 5 minutes before we leave for school Teddy announces that his teacher can see me right after school. I've been trying to meet with her so while I wish I had more notice, I figure I'll make it work. Now I'm taking my kids and 2 others to see the stupid Star Wars in 3 damn D movie at 4:20 so I race around getting snacks and dinner made for the kids to eat in the movie since I know I won't have time after school. This is of course after I spend almost 2 hours in the car taking Teddy's cricket bat back to the store to turn it in to be repaired. No biggie. No problem, I don't mind.
Except when I get to school one mom asks if I could take her daughter too. Yes I had offered but it was late notice and I had snacks and drinks for 5. But no matter, will make it work. I tell the kids to come up to top quad and not muck around while I meet with the teacher. Only I get to the teacher's room and she's in another meeting. See she sent a note home with Teddy which he never gave me. He decided that I was too busy on Monday and without telling either of us scheduled the meeting for Tuesday. Yes, there were words said about that to him. None of them pretty.
Then at the movie. Jesus God. The 2 boys sat by them selves, the 4 girls off by themselves and me guarding the door. The girls lost their ever loving mind. Seriously GONE. They spilled popcorn, soda and candy all over the floor. Someone took marshmellows and ground them into the seats and stairs. They ran up and down the isles. They yelled and carried on disrupting the theatre. After the movie Connor's glasses went flipping off into the seats and were GONE we held up the next showing 10 minutes trying to find them while the manager of the theater was yelling at me for the mess. I yelled at the girls, "I once took 6 three year old boys to the movie and they behaved better than you!" Then had to tell their mothers, who were in a state of shock that the girls did this.
I took one my pretty colored pills, had some champers and went to bed at 7:00 that night.
Wednesday- I learned that I had messed up Teddy's chance to sit for the Selective High School Entrance exam. Badly. I had 2 days to get the principal of Teddy's school to agree to sign the appeal form, and I have to write a letter explaining why I'm a dumb ass and too stupid to read a website correctly. Lovely. While this is spinning in my head I head off to school to pick up kids, including an extra one and take the girls to gymnastics. Only as I'm waiting for Teddy to show up Tessi and her friend ditch me. They are gone. So I have to walk around the school screaming their names to find them. When I did find them they were playing hopscotch so I gave them Hell for leaving me. As we're walking back Tessi's friend held onto her new wishing stone and said, "I wish Cecelia wouldn't be rude" Yep. And me being me, I LOST MY MIND. So many tears later we end up at gymnastics, I tell her dad and he's horrified. He hives her Hell and yes, more tears.
Didn't take pills but did drink a LOT of cheap french champers. A LOT. Again, in bed early.
Thursday - Am in serious funk. I can not believe I've screwed up Teddy's chance at getting into selective school. I should mention also that it's the anniversary of my friend's suicide and I am feeling very down about that. I can not believe such a sweet and nice girl I adore called me rude and then I get txt from her mother apologizing that my feelings were hurt and they would following up with her and her behavior. I took this as Sonia was upset with me, thinking I keeping tabs on her parenting. This led to some frantic texting and one long phone call to get us both on track again. That's when I learned that her little girl thought the word rude mean cross or angry. Sigh...I made a little girl cry because she wished I wouldn't be angry. Any puppies around I can kick?
Race into school to learn that principal and Teddy's teacher are bending over backwards to help get application ready. Serious effort people. Really in awe of them. Principal mentions that she's sorry but I'll have to drive app to dept. office. When I agree she says, "Oh what a good mum!" I just looked at her and said, "I've made 6 kids cry this week and only 3 were mine" There was a giggle in the staff room and mutterings of offering me a job there. As Ted said when I relayed the story, "Making kids cry is a feature, not a bug to teachers"
Friday - I drive the application to Bankstown. Now if anyone in Sydney had any idea how to draw an accurate map this would not be a problem. However since it seems to be a sick joke to make sure only the most convoluted, inaccurate pictures are displayed in maps here I drove around quite a bit.
TIP to map makers! - It helps if the same name on a street in a map is the same one on the sign along the road. Also building numbers being sequential is a plus.
I finally get there and deliver my package of pleading. I wrote a very nice, "Yes, I am a dumb ass and you owe me nothing, but dear God PLEASE let him take the test" letter. The lady who read the letter actually chortled a little bit. That's fine, I would have prostrated myself on the floor in front of her chanting, "Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa" if it would have helped. Something must have been good because they accepted the app and on Mar. 15th Teddy can fail the test to get into the schools! At least this way his future is on him and not me.
So that was my week. I don't know if there is any alcohol left in Dan Murphy's. I'm spending part of today building some furniture. It's an Ikea hack so not creative but will involve heavy duty glue and power tools so there's a real element of danger. I'm going to spend some time tomorrow planning some goals for the week.
Goal #1 - Only make children I've given birth to cry.
Goal #2 - No more Star Wars 3 damn D movies
Goal #3 - Take control of my schedule away from Satan and Teddy
Goal #4 - Stay up beyond 7:30 two nights this week.
Goals are important but it's a good idea not to set the bar too high.
Satan's Calendar of Events:
Monday - Ted and I drive the girls to piano and basketball, which is tricky since they both start at 5. While in on our way I get a phone call telling me that Tessi's game has been moved to 5:45. The mom offers for me to drop off Tessi to her and she'll take her so Ted and I can get to piano on time. Great! Never been to her house so I get her address 19 whateverthename and we drive straight there. Only the house doesn't look right. The gate is padlocked and there's a dog and I know they don't have a dog. I can't call her back as her number was blocked. So we turn around and race off to piano. I start calling everyone I can think of who has her number and then I remembered that she too has an iPhone and email her to call me. Turns out I'm an idiot and her house number is 99. Ok, no problem, drop Connor off, head back and first house we find is 99A. Then 99B. Which is it? I refuse to call again but we're in luck, one more house and we're at 99. Also, I'm sporting a massive sinus headache and holding my head together with my fingers.
That night I went to the school P & C meeting which lasted to 10 because of arguing over parking 0 got to speak to the mayor. WOOO HOO. and heated discussions about offering ethics classes in school. I ended up volunteering to help start up and run the class at our school. WTH? How did that happen?
Doesn't sound too bad right? Just a little stuff up and run around. Not really worth mentioning.
Tuesday - 5 minutes before we leave for school Teddy announces that his teacher can see me right after school. I've been trying to meet with her so while I wish I had more notice, I figure I'll make it work. Now I'm taking my kids and 2 others to see the stupid Star Wars in 3 damn D movie at 4:20 so I race around getting snacks and dinner made for the kids to eat in the movie since I know I won't have time after school. This is of course after I spend almost 2 hours in the car taking Teddy's cricket bat back to the store to turn it in to be repaired. No biggie. No problem, I don't mind.
Except when I get to school one mom asks if I could take her daughter too. Yes I had offered but it was late notice and I had snacks and drinks for 5. But no matter, will make it work. I tell the kids to come up to top quad and not muck around while I meet with the teacher. Only I get to the teacher's room and she's in another meeting. See she sent a note home with Teddy which he never gave me. He decided that I was too busy on Monday and without telling either of us scheduled the meeting for Tuesday. Yes, there were words said about that to him. None of them pretty.
Then at the movie. Jesus God. The 2 boys sat by them selves, the 4 girls off by themselves and me guarding the door. The girls lost their ever loving mind. Seriously GONE. They spilled popcorn, soda and candy all over the floor. Someone took marshmellows and ground them into the seats and stairs. They ran up and down the isles. They yelled and carried on disrupting the theatre. After the movie Connor's glasses went flipping off into the seats and were GONE we held up the next showing 10 minutes trying to find them while the manager of the theater was yelling at me for the mess. I yelled at the girls, "I once took 6 three year old boys to the movie and they behaved better than you!" Then had to tell their mothers, who were in a state of shock that the girls did this.
I took one my pretty colored pills, had some champers and went to bed at 7:00 that night.
Wednesday- I learned that I had messed up Teddy's chance to sit for the Selective High School Entrance exam. Badly. I had 2 days to get the principal of Teddy's school to agree to sign the appeal form, and I have to write a letter explaining why I'm a dumb ass and too stupid to read a website correctly. Lovely. While this is spinning in my head I head off to school to pick up kids, including an extra one and take the girls to gymnastics. Only as I'm waiting for Teddy to show up Tessi and her friend ditch me. They are gone. So I have to walk around the school screaming their names to find them. When I did find them they were playing hopscotch so I gave them Hell for leaving me. As we're walking back Tessi's friend held onto her new wishing stone and said, "I wish Cecelia wouldn't be rude" Yep. And me being me, I LOST MY MIND. So many tears later we end up at gymnastics, I tell her dad and he's horrified. He hives her Hell and yes, more tears.
Didn't take pills but did drink a LOT of cheap french champers. A LOT. Again, in bed early.
Thursday - Am in serious funk. I can not believe I've screwed up Teddy's chance at getting into selective school. I should mention also that it's the anniversary of my friend's suicide and I am feeling very down about that. I can not believe such a sweet and nice girl I adore called me rude and then I get txt from her mother apologizing that my feelings were hurt and they would following up with her and her behavior. I took this as Sonia was upset with me, thinking I keeping tabs on her parenting. This led to some frantic texting and one long phone call to get us both on track again. That's when I learned that her little girl thought the word rude mean cross or angry. Sigh...I made a little girl cry because she wished I wouldn't be angry. Any puppies around I can kick?
Race into school to learn that principal and Teddy's teacher are bending over backwards to help get application ready. Serious effort people. Really in awe of them. Principal mentions that she's sorry but I'll have to drive app to dept. office. When I agree she says, "Oh what a good mum!" I just looked at her and said, "I've made 6 kids cry this week and only 3 were mine" There was a giggle in the staff room and mutterings of offering me a job there. As Ted said when I relayed the story, "Making kids cry is a feature, not a bug to teachers"
Friday - I drive the application to Bankstown. Now if anyone in Sydney had any idea how to draw an accurate map this would not be a problem. However since it seems to be a sick joke to make sure only the most convoluted, inaccurate pictures are displayed in maps here I drove around quite a bit.
TIP to map makers! - It helps if the same name on a street in a map is the same one on the sign along the road. Also building numbers being sequential is a plus.
I finally get there and deliver my package of pleading. I wrote a very nice, "Yes, I am a dumb ass and you owe me nothing, but dear God PLEASE let him take the test" letter. The lady who read the letter actually chortled a little bit. That's fine, I would have prostrated myself on the floor in front of her chanting, "Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa" if it would have helped. Something must have been good because they accepted the app and on Mar. 15th Teddy can fail the test to get into the schools! At least this way his future is on him and not me.
So that was my week. I don't know if there is any alcohol left in Dan Murphy's. I'm spending part of today building some furniture. It's an Ikea hack so not creative but will involve heavy duty glue and power tools so there's a real element of danger. I'm going to spend some time tomorrow planning some goals for the week.
Goal #1 - Only make children I've given birth to cry.
Goal #2 - No more Star Wars 3 damn D movies
Goal #3 - Take control of my schedule away from Satan and Teddy
Goal #4 - Stay up beyond 7:30 two nights this week.
Goals are important but it's a good idea not to set the bar too high.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
A Year Has Passed By
On Feb 18th last year I found out that an old dear friend committed suicide. I get confused about the exact date because he died in the US and when I got the email I stopped caring about dates. So I'm just going to say he died a year ago today and say to Hell with the International Dateline.
Time does march on and so does life. I don't cry nearly as often as I did. I go about my day whining about my kids and dealing with the woes of cricket, piano and kids who tell lies and of course, that damn Star Wars movie I had to see in 3 damn D.
But I haven't forgotten. I honestly wish I could. I'm still furious with you Rob. I can't believe you left such a mess for your sister to clean up. I still call you a stupid bastard. My new favorite team is whomever is beating Portugal. I know much it pissed you off when Portugal lost so I figure their loss means you're as angry as I am.
However I can talk about some good moments. I remember seeing, "Dances With Wolves" in the theater with you and you commented that my Indian name would be, "She Who Talks a lot During Movies" and I remember all of us going to that bar in New Brunswick for late night beers and I remember you laughing with that insanely huge smile.
I've seen pictures of your daughter Rob. She's beautiful. I wish you knew that.
I wish I had known you feel that she and the rest of your family would have been better off dead than without you. They aren't you know. None of us are.
Be at peace Rob. We all still love you. You stupid bastard.
Time does march on and so does life. I don't cry nearly as often as I did. I go about my day whining about my kids and dealing with the woes of cricket, piano and kids who tell lies and of course, that damn Star Wars movie I had to see in 3 damn D.
But I haven't forgotten. I honestly wish I could. I'm still furious with you Rob. I can't believe you left such a mess for your sister to clean up. I still call you a stupid bastard. My new favorite team is whomever is beating Portugal. I know much it pissed you off when Portugal lost so I figure their loss means you're as angry as I am.
However I can talk about some good moments. I remember seeing, "Dances With Wolves" in the theater with you and you commented that my Indian name would be, "She Who Talks a lot During Movies" and I remember all of us going to that bar in New Brunswick for late night beers and I remember you laughing with that insanely huge smile.
I've seen pictures of your daughter Rob. She's beautiful. I wish you knew that.
I wish I had known you feel that she and the rest of your family would have been better off dead than without you. They aren't you know. None of us are.
Be at peace Rob. We all still love you. You stupid bastard.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Parenting Styles Differ
I'm not sure if it's an Aussie thing or just me. I say that because one of the friends I'm thinking about is English. See! I was nice and didn't call her a Limey or a Pom, progress!! That and she's a Helluva lot taller than me. My point is that there isn't a consistency on parenting philosophies across a single plain. It's all over the plain. So I'm not sure if it's just not the American way of doing things or that everyone here is plotting to make me look like more of a hag than I really am to my kids.
When it comes to movies, tv and video games and what parents let their kids watch or play I'm constantly astounded by the differences. Teddy is 11 and despite my best efforts loves his shoot-em up, kill fuzzy bunny games and obnoxious humor. In fact, when he first saw the cover for Portal 2 he immediately wrote it off because it didn't look like anything died. Of course since one of his cool friends showed it to him it's one of his favorite games - but that's another post in and of itself. Teddy loves his death and mayhem and this is with me nixing all the really cool Call of Duty, Halo, Modern Warfare and Skyrim games. To soothe those needs he does what any decent kid does and goes behind my back to friend's houses with way cooler moms and plays them there. Every couple of months or so I make him stop and say in front of witnesses, "Yes, I understand that killing human beings is wrong. There are better ways of solving problems than blowing people or zombies heads off and the saying is not 'Speak Softly and carry a large AK-47'" That way I can safely testify in court that I had reasonable assurances that he would not go postal and start shooting people from the top of the Sydney Opera House some day.
Don't judge me. You take what you can get.
When it comes to movies there are a whole slew of awesome movies I haven't let him see it.
Music-I let him hear some swearing. Yes, I DID put Monty Python Sings on his iPod. I have since come to regret that as Teddy has accidentally taught Connor the first verse to "Sit on My Face" But there just some very cool music out there that it's just criminal not to listen to. I have drawn the line at the South Park Movie soundtrack. I REALLY don't need him to accidentally teach Tessi the Uncle song. I will have to physically kill him.
But with my friends and their kids, some have no trouble at all with the hard core games but balk at swearing. Some completely cut out everything even slightly violent but then have Mel Brooks and Monty Python movie nights.
Back in Texas I was the shocking one. I said damn a lot and WOW I got some looks from some people. Double entendres are the bread and butter of my humor and 8 outta 10 times the second meaning is going to be obscene or insulting. I live and breathe to annoy and piss people off...I leave that to Ted...but if I'm honest, it does amuse the Hell out me most times.
But here in Australia? I've learned that many times I'm the prude of the room. Which let me tell you, is a wee bit shocking. I know for a fact my name is on at least 3 different prayer lists praying that God doesn't just smite my ass for the things I say. That's for just what I say...I actually do censor myself sometimes. Back home I know people that have their kids only watch Veggie Tales (no, I'm not knocking the show, I just think more than one show is a good thing, Backyardigans rocked!) but here? I'm overprotective because I voiced an objection because Teddy was shown a British tv show called Bottom and yes, it was everything you'd ever think a British tv show called Bottom would be.
Teddy has seen more movies and shows that I never would have even thought to let a kid watch and it's by people who are way more moral than I am. It's odd to see. I remember showing 2 of my girlfriends the movie Dogma. I warned them ahead of time that it was very controversial in the States and some scenes were really shocking. At the end of the movie both turned to me and asked what was shocking? Really? What was controversial about DOGMA? Gee, I don't know. But nope, didn't notice anything. Same friend let her young daughter watch the first season of True Blood, just covering her eyes during the more risque themes. She said no to the second season because that got a little intense. I heavily screen Teddy's viewing of The Big Bang Theory because while it does have the best writing on tv ever, there are still some phrases I don't want him learning while sitting next to me on the couch. He needs to go out and learn it from his buddies like a decent person.
I just typed the sentence Connor and Tessi are easier to manage but then I had to delete it. I banned the Disney Channel for everything except Phineas and Ferb because they were getting interested in all the pre-teen and teen shows. Banned because of constant message of sdults are idiots, best way to get what you want is go around their backs, lie to get your way and yes, you deserve all the latest and greatest. Whatever. They come with those traits built in, I've spent their childhood trying to wring it out of their necks, I sure as hell don't have to let them watch and get instructions on how to keep doing it. Nickelodeon is on my radar too. That damn iCarly....
So is it a cultural thing or am I prudish control freak? I'm really not a prude.....the rest....no comment.
When it comes to movies, tv and video games and what parents let their kids watch or play I'm constantly astounded by the differences. Teddy is 11 and despite my best efforts loves his shoot-em up, kill fuzzy bunny games and obnoxious humor. In fact, when he first saw the cover for Portal 2 he immediately wrote it off because it didn't look like anything died. Of course since one of his cool friends showed it to him it's one of his favorite games - but that's another post in and of itself. Teddy loves his death and mayhem and this is with me nixing all the really cool Call of Duty, Halo, Modern Warfare and Skyrim games. To soothe those needs he does what any decent kid does and goes behind my back to friend's houses with way cooler moms and plays them there. Every couple of months or so I make him stop and say in front of witnesses, "Yes, I understand that killing human beings is wrong. There are better ways of solving problems than blowing people or zombies heads off and the saying is not 'Speak Softly and carry a large AK-47'" That way I can safely testify in court that I had reasonable assurances that he would not go postal and start shooting people from the top of the Sydney Opera House some day.
Don't judge me. You take what you can get.
When it comes to movies there are a whole slew of awesome movies I haven't let him see it.
- A Fish Called Wanda
- Blazing Saddles
- Kevin Smith movies
- Animal House
- Any of the Jason/Chuckie/Freddy Krueger genre
- Any Monty Python movies -tv shows are ok.
- Elvis Movies
Music-I let him hear some swearing. Yes, I DID put Monty Python Sings on his iPod. I have since come to regret that as Teddy has accidentally taught Connor the first verse to "Sit on My Face" But there just some very cool music out there that it's just criminal not to listen to. I have drawn the line at the South Park Movie soundtrack. I REALLY don't need him to accidentally teach Tessi the Uncle song. I will have to physically kill him.
But with my friends and their kids, some have no trouble at all with the hard core games but balk at swearing. Some completely cut out everything even slightly violent but then have Mel Brooks and Monty Python movie nights.
Back in Texas I was the shocking one. I said damn a lot and WOW I got some looks from some people. Double entendres are the bread and butter of my humor and 8 outta 10 times the second meaning is going to be obscene or insulting. I live and breathe to annoy and piss people off...I leave that to Ted...but if I'm honest, it does amuse the Hell out me most times.
But here in Australia? I've learned that many times I'm the prude of the room. Which let me tell you, is a wee bit shocking. I know for a fact my name is on at least 3 different prayer lists praying that God doesn't just smite my ass for the things I say. That's for just what I say...I actually do censor myself sometimes. Back home I know people that have their kids only watch Veggie Tales (no, I'm not knocking the show, I just think more than one show is a good thing, Backyardigans rocked!) but here? I'm overprotective because I voiced an objection because Teddy was shown a British tv show called Bottom and yes, it was everything you'd ever think a British tv show called Bottom would be.
Teddy has seen more movies and shows that I never would have even thought to let a kid watch and it's by people who are way more moral than I am. It's odd to see. I remember showing 2 of my girlfriends the movie Dogma. I warned them ahead of time that it was very controversial in the States and some scenes were really shocking. At the end of the movie both turned to me and asked what was shocking? Really? What was controversial about DOGMA? Gee, I don't know. But nope, didn't notice anything. Same friend let her young daughter watch the first season of True Blood, just covering her eyes during the more risque themes. She said no to the second season because that got a little intense. I heavily screen Teddy's viewing of The Big Bang Theory because while it does have the best writing on tv ever, there are still some phrases I don't want him learning while sitting next to me on the couch. He needs to go out and learn it from his buddies like a decent person.
I just typed the sentence Connor and Tessi are easier to manage but then I had to delete it. I banned the Disney Channel for everything except Phineas and Ferb because they were getting interested in all the pre-teen and teen shows. Banned because of constant message of sdults are idiots, best way to get what you want is go around their backs, lie to get your way and yes, you deserve all the latest and greatest. Whatever. They come with those traits built in, I've spent their childhood trying to wring it out of their necks, I sure as hell don't have to let them watch and get instructions on how to keep doing it. Nickelodeon is on my radar too. That damn iCarly....
So is it a cultural thing or am I prudish control freak? I'm really not a prude.....the rest....no comment.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Cricket is No Longer a Bug
Alright, yes it is bug still but in my mind it's no longer JUST a bug. Teddy has been selected for his school's Rep Cricket team as the wickie. Also known as the wicket keeper. Which is sort of like a catcher. Sort of. Today I drove him and his mates to the field so they could play another school. He has a large kit bag for his stuff and then tonight he has cricket training for his team for the local club.
What the Hell is this nonsense? MY son plays cricket? We're Americans for Chrissake! We play football and baseball and basketball and hit things hard and laugh outrageously loud. Ted is a massive Minnesota Vikings groupie, I adore my Steelers. Ted's dad is a Giants worshipper and has even raced stock cars and the latest generation of Tencza dresses in all white to stand around for days and cheering when the bowler ALMOST gets someone out? Wha??
When we first moved to Australia Teddy tried to play baseball but it was hopeless. In Year 1 they were still playing t-ball. Just plain silly. Plus all of Teddy's friends played cricket so the following year he wanted to try it and was hooked. So now we go to cricket games and think, "Oh wow, it's a short game today, only 4 hours"
But people go for the day, even days to see these cricket games. Aussies love their cricket. The weird rules - you can run if you don't hit the ball, they stop game for tea breaks, and the team captain is supposed to turn in his own teammates for unsportsmanlike like conduct, all of it, they love it. Even the 2 or 3 Australians who don't like sports know about cricket. Ask ANYONE about Don Bradman, and you'll be gently reminded that it's SIR Don Bradman.
So here we are, Americans living in Australia and our oldest child plays cricket. 5 years ago I heard the word I thought of a chirping insect and now I think of an entire day sitting outside watching paint dry. At least I can bring my iPod.
The day I can watch without getting pissed that he's wearing all white and rolling around in the mud that's when I know I'm Australian.
What the Hell is this nonsense? MY son plays cricket? We're Americans for Chrissake! We play football and baseball and basketball and hit things hard and laugh outrageously loud. Ted is a massive Minnesota Vikings groupie, I adore my Steelers. Ted's dad is a Giants worshipper and has even raced stock cars and the latest generation of Tencza dresses in all white to stand around for days and cheering when the bowler ALMOST gets someone out? Wha??
When we first moved to Australia Teddy tried to play baseball but it was hopeless. In Year 1 they were still playing t-ball. Just plain silly. Plus all of Teddy's friends played cricket so the following year he wanted to try it and was hooked. So now we go to cricket games and think, "Oh wow, it's a short game today, only 4 hours"
But people go for the day, even days to see these cricket games. Aussies love their cricket. The weird rules - you can run if you don't hit the ball, they stop game for tea breaks, and the team captain is supposed to turn in his own teammates for unsportsmanlike like conduct, all of it, they love it. Even the 2 or 3 Australians who don't like sports know about cricket. Ask ANYONE about Don Bradman, and you'll be gently reminded that it's SIR Don Bradman.
So here we are, Americans living in Australia and our oldest child plays cricket. 5 years ago I heard the word I thought of a chirping insect and now I think of an entire day sitting outside watching paint dry. At least I can bring my iPod.
The day I can watch without getting pissed that he's wearing all white and rolling around in the mud that's when I know I'm Australian.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Interesting Habits of Wildlife in Australia or Why I Now Use Baileys as Cream in My Tea
My morning began as most do in my house. I opened my eyes and immediately grabbed the precious - my iPhone, and began checking news, weather and of course, Facebook. I know, I have a slight addiction problem. I really don't care. The girls came barging in to rat each other out, cry about having wake up, complain about the global economy....actually not sure about the last one, to be honest I stopped listening about 30 seconds into the melee. I shooed them out so I could get dressed. About 15 seconds later Connor came running in, "Mommy, do you know the tall curtains we have downstairs?" Yes Connor, I've heard of them. "Well, um, well, there's a mouse on top of them!" O-kay. Quite honestly, I was not expecting that. But then again, I couldn't say it was impossible.
So I throw on my shirt, and head down the steps. We get halfway down the steps and Connor starts screaming, "See, See, See!!!" Well, no. I don't. I bend down and peer over the railing and look about 15 feet away and damn it all, there it is. The Australian Hopping Mouse. It's about the size of an American Field Mouse only it has bigger ears and it hops like a kangaroo. Only it has a problem. It's on top of the curtain rod located near the top of our extremely high ceiling. I think about 14 feet.
Of course Connor is the one that sees it. I would have come downstairs and missed the little bastard completely. But not Connor. Nooooo. She saw it because there was Monty sitting on the floor staring up at it. Monty must have brought it in to play with and it got the best of him and ran up the curtains.
Ok. So now I have a problem.
The next twenty minutes was quite possibly the most calamitous of not only my life but I dare say, most peoples lives.
I get the ladder and Teddy and I begin the process of unfolding it. It's one of those 600 different position ladders and the two of us, plus Tessi "helping" we finally get it set up to have Teddy get the mouse. Teddy starts to climb towards Mickey and then Connor bellows, 'KOOKABURRA!!!!" I start looking around the living room because I'm sure it's come in too. But no. She's pointing out the window. So Teddy, Tessi and I, like the lemmings we are stop, turn and walk towards the window. Sure enough, there's a Kookaburra outside. It takes me a full 20 seconds before I realize, "Jesus, we LIVE here, we see Kookaburras all the time! We have to get the mouse!!" Back at the task at hand.
Mice, no matter what continent they are from, do NOT like having strange people try to pick them up. This mouse started running back and forth along the curtain rod squealing it's head off. At one point he slipped and fell down a bit onto the upper window sill and Teddy (I helped!! I herded it with a long pole) was able to coax it onto his hand and he started the climb down the ladder to take it outside. Sadly though, the mouse decided to bite Teddy (no broken skin) and then Teddy yelling, flinging the mouse back onto the curtain and the bastard scurried back up to the top.
I've sent the girls out of the room to damper the sound of the screaming, Monty is running back and forth trying to glare the mouse to death, Sasha starts barking at a neighbor walking down the street and that's when I noticed that Teddy's new Siamese Fighting Fish wasn't moving. I run over, "Oh Christ, no!! Don't' be dead!!!!" Then Teddy comes over, "He's not dead, I taught him to do that" What? I look back, the damn fish wiggles 1 fin....twice. Then stops. Then the other fin...twice again. Then he starts moving for real. What. the. Hell. Never mind, I've got Mickey running around 14 feet above my head.
This is when we learned about the hopping.
The mouse began running along the curtain rods, and then hopped between them. All four. Back and forth. Speedy Gonzalez here is racing along the rods and when he gets to the end he hops to the wall, bouncing off onto the next rod. It was like watching those people in LA who spend time bouncing off of walls to climb up buildings. He's running and hopping and squealing, did I mention the squealing?
I get the super long broom and head towards the window and that's when I noticed that Damn Dog has peed on the floor. For the first time in my life, that was not the most horrifying thing in my immediate area. So I race to the window, Teddy has repositioned the ladder, has climbed up, catch reach so I put the broom by the mouse just to stop him from running. Speedy smacks into the broom, falls off onto my sewing machine and stops cold. I fling open the sliding doors and put on my best Dave Winfield stance and swing for the cheap seats. I moved him 2 feet but at least he's by the door. Teddy pops him outside and chases him out into the bush.
Connor comes out of hiding, "Yea!! We got the mouse!"
I looked at her, didn't say a word and went into the kitchen and poured my tea.
I'll admit it. After I took the kids to school I went to the shops and bought champers and a tub of chocolate frosting. Judge all you want. I'll be sitting in the corner and blinking a lot.
So I throw on my shirt, and head down the steps. We get halfway down the steps and Connor starts screaming, "See, See, See!!!" Well, no. I don't. I bend down and peer over the railing and look about 15 feet away and damn it all, there it is. The Australian Hopping Mouse. It's about the size of an American Field Mouse only it has bigger ears and it hops like a kangaroo. Only it has a problem. It's on top of the curtain rod located near the top of our extremely high ceiling. I think about 14 feet.
Of course Connor is the one that sees it. I would have come downstairs and missed the little bastard completely. But not Connor. Nooooo. She saw it because there was Monty sitting on the floor staring up at it. Monty must have brought it in to play with and it got the best of him and ran up the curtains.
Ok. So now I have a problem.
- I have a damn live mouse stuck inside my house.
- It's waaaaayyy up high and no real way to get to it.
- Ted has already left for work.
- Connor is starting to slowly become unglued and turning into Sybil.
- I have not had any tea
The next twenty minutes was quite possibly the most calamitous of not only my life but I dare say, most peoples lives.
I get the ladder and Teddy and I begin the process of unfolding it. It's one of those 600 different position ladders and the two of us, plus Tessi "helping" we finally get it set up to have Teddy get the mouse. Teddy starts to climb towards Mickey and then Connor bellows, 'KOOKABURRA!!!!" I start looking around the living room because I'm sure it's come in too. But no. She's pointing out the window. So Teddy, Tessi and I, like the lemmings we are stop, turn and walk towards the window. Sure enough, there's a Kookaburra outside. It takes me a full 20 seconds before I realize, "Jesus, we LIVE here, we see Kookaburras all the time! We have to get the mouse!!" Back at the task at hand.
I've sent the girls out of the room to damper the sound of the screaming, Monty is running back and forth trying to glare the mouse to death, Sasha starts barking at a neighbor walking down the street and that's when I noticed that Teddy's new Siamese Fighting Fish wasn't moving. I run over, "Oh Christ, no!! Don't' be dead!!!!" Then Teddy comes over, "He's not dead, I taught him to do that" What? I look back, the damn fish wiggles 1 fin....twice. Then stops. Then the other fin...twice again. Then he starts moving for real. What. the. Hell. Never mind, I've got Mickey running around 14 feet above my head.
This is when we learned about the hopping.
The mouse began running along the curtain rods, and then hopped between them. All four. Back and forth. Speedy Gonzalez here is racing along the rods and when he gets to the end he hops to the wall, bouncing off onto the next rod. It was like watching those people in LA who spend time bouncing off of walls to climb up buildings. He's running and hopping and squealing, did I mention the squealing?
I get the super long broom and head towards the window and that's when I noticed that Damn Dog has peed on the floor. For the first time in my life, that was not the most horrifying thing in my immediate area. So I race to the window, Teddy has repositioned the ladder, has climbed up, catch reach so I put the broom by the mouse just to stop him from running. Speedy smacks into the broom, falls off onto my sewing machine and stops cold. I fling open the sliding doors and put on my best Dave Winfield stance and swing for the cheap seats. I moved him 2 feet but at least he's by the door. Teddy pops him outside and chases him out into the bush.
Connor comes out of hiding, "Yea!! We got the mouse!"
I looked at her, didn't say a word and went into the kitchen and poured my tea.
I'll admit it. After I took the kids to school I went to the shops and bought champers and a tub of chocolate frosting. Judge all you want. I'll be sitting in the corner and blinking a lot.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Living in the Twilight Zone
Anyone remember the remake of the Twilight Zone tv show? It was done in the late 80's or early 90's, I can't remember for sure. The was one episode about a man going about his life and he suddenly hears a word he doesn't understand. Everyone else around him understands it but him. It's total gibberish. Then there are 2 words that are gibberish. Everyone around him starts to look at him like he's a nutter.
He starts running around frantically trying to get someone to understand him and then of course it ends up that he understands nothing and they lock him away in the nuthouse. It's a sad and depressing look into the mind of insanity.
I bet that story was written by a someone who has kids.
I shouldn't say that. Not just kids. I mean, yes it is the kids but it's also other people too. At least today anyway. Today is just one of THOSE days that every chance I've had to interact with some they've either completely ignored me, misunderstood everything I had to say or I don't know, couldn't deal with me. The kids, well Hell, that's everyday with them. Hardly worth mentioning. But the adults around me Hoo Boy. Makes me a little nervous though as I sent off 3 letters to schools teachers today with the kids. Now that I know that I am incapable of communicating my thoughts in a rational day I'm wondering if I'm going to have to go pick up expelled children at 3:00.
Sadly, this happens a lot to me. When I moved to Australia I could chalk it up to language and custom barrier. We've been here almost 5 years and I know what chuffed, nutter, struth and blimey mean now. I don't think that's it. If I was brimming with self confidence I think I'd say that my mind was running faster than my mouth. If I was being the Ugly American I'd say that Aussies just need to learn how I speak. If I'm being honest...well I dunno.
So as any reasonable person would do...and since I'm the most reasonable person I've dealt with today I will go with my suggestion, I am embracing the madness. Go ahead, hear the words coming out of my mouth and feel free to do the opposite. I am going to pretend you're doing it my way anyway. When I pick up the kids today I will tell them to do the opposite of what I want in hopes that they will either be so confused they be stunned into silence (HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA, damn that was a good one) or else they will do the opposite just to spite me.
Dan Murphys, the world's greatest liquor store is open until 9. That is my mantra.
And like the man in Twilight Zone I will just keep on going until lock my gorstrsap324 up in solitary confinement.
He starts running around frantically trying to get someone to understand him and then of course it ends up that he understands nothing and they lock him away in the nuthouse. It's a sad and depressing look into the mind of insanity.
I bet that story was written by a someone who has kids.
I shouldn't say that. Not just kids. I mean, yes it is the kids but it's also other people too. At least today anyway. Today is just one of THOSE days that every chance I've had to interact with some they've either completely ignored me, misunderstood everything I had to say or I don't know, couldn't deal with me. The kids, well Hell, that's everyday with them. Hardly worth mentioning. But the adults around me Hoo Boy. Makes me a little nervous though as I sent off 3 letters to schools teachers today with the kids. Now that I know that I am incapable of communicating my thoughts in a rational day I'm wondering if I'm going to have to go pick up expelled children at 3:00.
Sadly, this happens a lot to me. When I moved to Australia I could chalk it up to language and custom barrier. We've been here almost 5 years and I know what chuffed, nutter, struth and blimey mean now. I don't think that's it. If I was brimming with self confidence I think I'd say that my mind was running faster than my mouth. If I was being the Ugly American I'd say that Aussies just need to learn how I speak. If I'm being honest...well I dunno.
So as any reasonable person would do...and since I'm the most reasonable person I've dealt with today I will go with my suggestion, I am embracing the madness. Go ahead, hear the words coming out of my mouth and feel free to do the opposite. I am going to pretend you're doing it my way anyway. When I pick up the kids today I will tell them to do the opposite of what I want in hopes that they will either be so confused they be stunned into silence (HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA, damn that was a good one) or else they will do the opposite just to spite me.
Dan Murphys, the world's greatest liquor store is open until 9. That is my mantra.
And like the man in Twilight Zone I will just keep on going until lock my gorstrsap324 up in solitary confinement.
Monday, February 6, 2012
A dabbler in Everything but a Master of Nothing
Ok, that's a little harsh. It's true but it's harsh. I have a lot of varied interests. Some may call me psychotic with a limited ability to commit whereas I like to think of myself as being diversified.
Not in any particular order this are the hobby's and interests right that are floating my boat.
Now of course these are not all interests that go together. Well, maybe the sewing and bows but there rest are right in the middle of left field. Also Enjoying this things is NOT simpatico with ferrying kids to school, cricket, piano and gymnastics. It is the polar opposite of doing laundry, grocery shopping, cooking dinner, gardening, paying bills, planning events with school and friends and well...general every other aspect of my life.
Today I need to take down 3 loads of hanging laundry. Put up another 2 at least, plan dinner, clean up the kitchen, finish cleaning out pantry, put laundry away, go to school, pick up one child - other 2 are going to friends house, drive home,feed child snack drive back out and pick up other 2, go to piano lesson, during lesson drive over to basketball place and see if there is an opening for Tessi, drive back to piano lesson, pick up Connor and drive home. Then make dinner. Argue at kids for not eating dinner. I will collapse on couch and Saint Ted will get girls to bed, then Teddy will pout and go to bed and then I will either sit and chat with Ted or just go upstairs and pass out.
See why the playing on the computer is soooooooooo appealing? Yea, I know. I'm going, I'm going. Maybe I can start working on the bed tomorrow.
Not in any particular order this are the hobby's and interests right that are floating my boat.
- Sewing. Yep, I really love it. I love to get fabric and pick out patterns and I love to sit at the machine and go. I swear like Hell almost the entire time I'm sewing but when I'm done, I really feel good. Feeling good isn't one of my strong points so when it happens man! It's like suddenly losing 20 pounds, finding a fifty dollar note and your favorite shoe store has a buy 1 get 2 free pair sale. Sooooo, not that often. But the feeling I get when I've made something, it works for me.
- Hair Bow. I can make hair bows for the girls. Not the simple single loop with a tie in the middle but good super spiffy cheerleader sorority girls in beauty pagent bows. It's an awesome task and again I swear a lot during the process but when it's done it's a great feeling. Sadly, these bows aren't all that popular here in Australia. The phrase bow heads means nothing here. I think Aussies get a little put off sometimes when you try to bring in something from your homeland. But I will keep trying.
- Woodworking. I started following this blog: www.ana-white.com last year and love it. I've built a bookcase shelf thing for my bathroom and some storage stuff. I desperately need a new bed for Ted and I and I have the plans to build a fantastic one. A bed with storage and a solid headboard that isn't wiggling and wobbling all over the place. Plus I have an idea for a kitchen table that has built in storage. When I'm out in the shed I feel like I'm accomplishing something real. Something tangible that will be around. Not like when I'm cooking dinner that I know everyone will hate and 60% of the table won't eat at all.
- Computers. Not the IT web design and coding. That's insane tech crap to me. Reading 100's of lines of code to see where a T should have been capitalized? Whatever. Glad that there are folk who can do that (my husband Ted by the way-a little too awesome, it's scary sometimes what he knows) but I'm even more grateful that I'm not one of the ones doing it. No my computing interest is in the gadgets and seeing what will work and how it works. I love using the computer to download music, movies and such. All legal of course. I love having a question about something and then diving onto the Net and traveling through time and space to find the answer. Yes, I have a smart phone. Yes, I'll kill anyone who gets between it and me.
Now of course these are not all interests that go together. Well, maybe the sewing and bows but there rest are right in the middle of left field. Also Enjoying this things is NOT simpatico with ferrying kids to school, cricket, piano and gymnastics. It is the polar opposite of doing laundry, grocery shopping, cooking dinner, gardening, paying bills, planning events with school and friends and well...general every other aspect of my life.
Today I need to take down 3 loads of hanging laundry. Put up another 2 at least, plan dinner, clean up the kitchen, finish cleaning out pantry, put laundry away, go to school, pick up one child - other 2 are going to friends house, drive home,feed child snack drive back out and pick up other 2, go to piano lesson, during lesson drive over to basketball place and see if there is an opening for Tessi, drive back to piano lesson, pick up Connor and drive home. Then make dinner. Argue at kids for not eating dinner. I will collapse on couch and Saint Ted will get girls to bed, then Teddy will pout and go to bed and then I will either sit and chat with Ted or just go upstairs and pass out.
See why the playing on the computer is soooooooooo appealing? Yea, I know. I'm going, I'm going. Maybe I can start working on the bed tomorrow.
Insanity Isn't Hereditary
What happens is the child does something crazy, which drives the parent crazy. Then the parent does something crazy which drives the child crazy. See? It's not hereditary, it's a freakin' infinite loop. I came to this realization at 5:50 am today. I being sound asleep, was not expecting there to be a tall, dark shadowy figure standing a foot away from my face. Well in my defense, she was tall because I was laying down and quite honestly, she was pretty menacing. Did I mention also that I was sound asleep?
A voice suddenly popped, "Mommy, you LIED to me" Ok...I lied. Sure. Who the Hell are you? She steps closer and I can see it's Connor. A pissed off Connor. "You lied to ME!"
Suddenly it returns to me. Ted and I promised Connor that Ted would put Monty the cat to sleep in her room when he went to bed. Now apparently when Ted went to bed he couldn't find the damn cat so he just came to bed. I mumbled something about not seeing Monty and then low and behold the little bastard appeared and Connor took him to her room for the remaining 30 minutes until she decided we were getting up.
Now the crazy part in this scenario, in case you missed it, is how did I end up being the liar when Ted is the one who didn't put the damn cat in the kid's damn room? It's the same kid logic that convinced Tessi to argue with her father that he didn't know how to make porridge, walk past him out of the kitchen out to me in the living room to ask how to do it. This is also the same mentality that let's Teddy think he can fool me when he says he just walked the dog when it's raining and both he and Damn Dog are dry.
The logic is that they are insane. I'm not making a judgement, just a statement. They are barking mad. Off their nut. Loonier than a tune. Any euphemism you want. It's the only reasonable explanation for their ability to remember you calling a classmate's mom a bit of a tart 3 years ago and mentioning that fact in front of her and still being unable to remember you saying find your school hat 30 minutes before you leave for school. Or telling Grandma that Mommy's iPhone has an app that says the F word but won't say a single bloody word about the award they earned at school that week.
Wait, I can hear it from here, the first fight has started. Hmmm, may hide in here a bit more.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Problem or Not
An old dear friend contacted me the other day because she was concerned about her son. He's quite young and his teacher mentioned that she was concerned he was on the Spectrum. I was happy to talk to her because well, I feel I have to. I knew nothing when we started on our journey and if I could help her in any way then by God, I would. After a few rounds of email it seems in my ever humble opinion, that the carer is really pulling this out of her butt. That being said, a major carer has raised a concern and I believe that should be respected so my friend is taking her little one to the dr.
That really has gotten me to thinking. Which is of course good and inherently dangerous. Where is the line drawn between whinning about every possible thing a toddler does and being aggressive and advocating for your child's care?
Autism is in the news almost daily now. That is a good thing. It is. So many children have just been labeled mentally retarded, slow, dim-witted or the all-encompassing, "Bad" yet they have managable issues. When we got our diagnosis I was stunned by the dozens of indicators Autism mentioned because I thought they were normal toddler pain in the ass things. Tantrumming, refusal to eat, inability to share, difficulty grasping pencils and scissors. The scissors question used to crack me up. At 17 and 18 months for Connor and Tessi I was asked if they could use scissors correctly. I responded the same way every time, "How the Hell would I know? You think I'm stupid enough to let them hold scissors?" But all of this was very important but in levels and degrees. All kids throw hissy fits. That's normal. Throwing a hissy fit for hours is not. Refusing to eat is normal. Eating things only of one type of texture (all puddings or creams, or nothing cold) is not. Not sharing toys is normal. Not understanding that there are other creatures in the room who are just like you is not.
But none of this is instinctual! June Cleaver woudn't have had the first buggering clue what to do if the Beav was Autistic. Who the Hell knows if a behavior is normal or excessive? For Christ's sake, at that time I had 3 children under the age of 7, the last two were 13 months apart, my husband was working 12 hour days and we had just moved 5 hours away from our family and friends. The first 2 years of Tessi's life are an absolute blur. That's with the normal stuff. Throw in diagnosing 2 toddlers with Autism and well....I honestly didn't know my ass from a hole in the ground.
Knowing what I went through I usually explode into unprintable obscenities when I hear some jackass complain about all the Autism and kids were allowed be kids when we were young and the best one....the kid would be fine if you'd just discipline them. That one...ooooh, I've got a few stories about dealing with assholes who were dumb enough to say that in front of me. Just me people, if there was anyone in the planet who wanted to be able to solve my girls problems with a couple whacks on the bottom and a few more time outs, it was me. Listening to these people pontificate about the demise of society because so many kids were being labeled Autistic as if it's such a great club to be included in. "Ooooh, see Lauren! Her son just got his dsm iv criteria met! He's on the Spectrum! Wow, can you imagine the celebrating tonight? There won't be a goat safe for miles!! Damn, I wish I could get one for my kid!" Yeah, what-freakin-ever. You can have mine. We have two.
No one just goes out and gets a diagnosis. No, no, no. Your loser neighbor who sits all day watching her stories and hasn't seen the inside of her kitchen for a year and her kids run around beating animals with sticks does not count. She didn't get a diagnosis. She watched Jerry Springer or Montel and heard the fancy word and is using it. You know how you can tell? 'Cause she hasn't been asking you and everyone else, "Something just seems odd, I can't put my finger on it. Did your child do "name weird behavior" or you mean your child doesn't sit and bang his head over and over" Those people are jumping on bandwagons. They aren't ever caught crying because their kids has been kicking them in the leg for 4 hours no matter what you do to stop them. And you know what, for every 1 of them there are 50 at least, real cases of Austism. You can't call your dr and ask for a refill of your blood pressure meds and oh, by the way, can I get you to type a letter saying Miss Thang is on the Autistic Spectrum." It's months of appointments with several EXPENSIVE therapists, drs and clinicians before you get that bad boy. So if you're hearing about a kid going through treatment for Spectrum related issues - they freakin need it.
However, if I'm honest, there is another side. The side my friend presented to me. Her child's teacher raised a concern that he might be on the Spectrum. He's a loner. He's still engaged in Parallel Play. That's really it. Really? This gets a conference with a parent? A 2-year old prefers to play alone at school rather than with friends? He has excellent, developing speech, he sits and plays longer than 30 seconds, he interacts with his twin sister very well and does communicate with the teachers and his parents. THIS?
What? As my friend was describing the symptoms all I could do was compare mine at the same age. Speech? Connor maxed out at 5 words and then lost all but 1 of them. Connor and Tessi both could have someone call their names from 2 feet away and they would ignore them. Tantrums? Christ....Tessi would follow me from room to room so she could kick me.
But what is my friend to do? Go to the dr. Yes, I know. I don't think the boy is in danger either. But then again, I avoided med school like the plague. A person responsible for providing a large amount of his care has raised a concern. I'll willing to bet money it's pointless, but so my friend can sleep at night without wondering if she's done enough I say go to the dr.
Sadly, with Autism it's really better to have people a bit jumpy and examining the absurd. If the hairs are prickling on the back of your neck...then go. Don't say, "I think my child has Autism" Say, "Something is strange. I don't know what." If your dr laughs at your or tells you to unclench, then you are at the wrong dr. You can get a free evaluation from ECI - Early Childhood Intervention in the US. In Australia you can get a gp referral to an evaluation center. The closet one to me is in Chatswood, but they are all over.
Get it checked out. THEN we can come up with jokes about what the hell was the teacher thinking.
That really has gotten me to thinking. Which is of course good and inherently dangerous. Where is the line drawn between whinning about every possible thing a toddler does and being aggressive and advocating for your child's care?
Autism is in the news almost daily now. That is a good thing. It is. So many children have just been labeled mentally retarded, slow, dim-witted or the all-encompassing, "Bad" yet they have managable issues. When we got our diagnosis I was stunned by the dozens of indicators Autism mentioned because I thought they were normal toddler pain in the ass things. Tantrumming, refusal to eat, inability to share, difficulty grasping pencils and scissors. The scissors question used to crack me up. At 17 and 18 months for Connor and Tessi I was asked if they could use scissors correctly. I responded the same way every time, "How the Hell would I know? You think I'm stupid enough to let them hold scissors?" But all of this was very important but in levels and degrees. All kids throw hissy fits. That's normal. Throwing a hissy fit for hours is not. Refusing to eat is normal. Eating things only of one type of texture (all puddings or creams, or nothing cold) is not. Not sharing toys is normal. Not understanding that there are other creatures in the room who are just like you is not.
But none of this is instinctual! June Cleaver woudn't have had the first buggering clue what to do if the Beav was Autistic. Who the Hell knows if a behavior is normal or excessive? For Christ's sake, at that time I had 3 children under the age of 7, the last two were 13 months apart, my husband was working 12 hour days and we had just moved 5 hours away from our family and friends. The first 2 years of Tessi's life are an absolute blur. That's with the normal stuff. Throw in diagnosing 2 toddlers with Autism and well....I honestly didn't know my ass from a hole in the ground.
Knowing what I went through I usually explode into unprintable obscenities when I hear some jackass complain about all the Autism and kids were allowed be kids when we were young and the best one....the kid would be fine if you'd just discipline them. That one...ooooh, I've got a few stories about dealing with assholes who were dumb enough to say that in front of me. Just me people, if there was anyone in the planet who wanted to be able to solve my girls problems with a couple whacks on the bottom and a few more time outs, it was me. Listening to these people pontificate about the demise of society because so many kids were being labeled Autistic as if it's such a great club to be included in. "Ooooh, see Lauren! Her son just got his dsm iv criteria met! He's on the Spectrum! Wow, can you imagine the celebrating tonight? There won't be a goat safe for miles!! Damn, I wish I could get one for my kid!" Yeah, what-freakin-ever. You can have mine. We have two.
No one just goes out and gets a diagnosis. No, no, no. Your loser neighbor who sits all day watching her stories and hasn't seen the inside of her kitchen for a year and her kids run around beating animals with sticks does not count. She didn't get a diagnosis. She watched Jerry Springer or Montel and heard the fancy word and is using it. You know how you can tell? 'Cause she hasn't been asking you and everyone else, "Something just seems odd, I can't put my finger on it. Did your child do "name weird behavior" or you mean your child doesn't sit and bang his head over and over" Those people are jumping on bandwagons. They aren't ever caught crying because their kids has been kicking them in the leg for 4 hours no matter what you do to stop them. And you know what, for every 1 of them there are 50 at least, real cases of Austism. You can't call your dr and ask for a refill of your blood pressure meds and oh, by the way, can I get you to type a letter saying Miss Thang is on the Autistic Spectrum." It's months of appointments with several EXPENSIVE therapists, drs and clinicians before you get that bad boy. So if you're hearing about a kid going through treatment for Spectrum related issues - they freakin need it.
However, if I'm honest, there is another side. The side my friend presented to me. Her child's teacher raised a concern that he might be on the Spectrum. He's a loner. He's still engaged in Parallel Play. That's really it. Really? This gets a conference with a parent? A 2-year old prefers to play alone at school rather than with friends? He has excellent, developing speech, he sits and plays longer than 30 seconds, he interacts with his twin sister very well and does communicate with the teachers and his parents. THIS?
What? As my friend was describing the symptoms all I could do was compare mine at the same age. Speech? Connor maxed out at 5 words and then lost all but 1 of them. Connor and Tessi both could have someone call their names from 2 feet away and they would ignore them. Tantrums? Christ....Tessi would follow me from room to room so she could kick me.
But what is my friend to do? Go to the dr. Yes, I know. I don't think the boy is in danger either. But then again, I avoided med school like the plague. A person responsible for providing a large amount of his care has raised a concern. I'll willing to bet money it's pointless, but so my friend can sleep at night without wondering if she's done enough I say go to the dr.
Sadly, with Autism it's really better to have people a bit jumpy and examining the absurd. If the hairs are prickling on the back of your neck...then go. Don't say, "I think my child has Autism" Say, "Something is strange. I don't know what." If your dr laughs at your or tells you to unclench, then you are at the wrong dr. You can get a free evaluation from ECI - Early Childhood Intervention in the US. In Australia you can get a gp referral to an evaluation center. The closet one to me is in Chatswood, but they are all over.
Get it checked out. THEN we can come up with jokes about what the hell was the teacher thinking.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Tip for People Wanting to Become Parents
Stay away from the baby books. Don't waste your money on learn how to diaper a baby classes. Pass by the books on how to nurture and support your child's feelings. While there is usful information in these items they really aren't going to be able to give you the in depth knowledge you'll need to survive...of course I mean joyfully raise your child.
What you need is advanced coursework in psychological nursing. Think Nurse Ratchett type stuff. I don't mean the ins and outs of pharmaceuticals, I leave that to doctors. I'm talking about the skill set of listening to the ramblings of deranged, psychotic, pathological liars while restraining the desire to choke the living shit out of them. To be able to temper your own need to vomit after listening to their paranoid delusions of persecution and to quite honestly fake expressions of compassion, sympathy and of course understanding. If none of that works it would also be handy to know how to get someone in a head lock quickly and usher them to their rooms to contain them for your safety and theirs.
You may be wondering why I'm mentioning the need for these skills. Well, it turns out that I am woefully lacking in them. My son, the pre-teen God of the house, greeted me this morning with one of the more lame and ridiculous lies I've ever had the misfortune to endure. And since I am not the developmentally challanged tree sloth he believes me to be, I knew he was lying. I hadn't even had my tea yet and I knew he lied, that is saying something.
He lied about making his sandwich or not for lunch. I said, "Really, that's nice, I was going to make it. What did you think of the new container I put the salami in?" Instead of the usual, "Why would you put it a container? Jees, that's silly" he turned away from me, walked out and said, "It was nice." I followed him asking what he thought, he finally said, "Oh didn't see container I found a bag of it in the drawer" Really? I used up the last bit of that the other day to make his sandwiches and just bought more yesterday. There was no bag. "Teddy, if I checked your bag would I find a salami sandwich?" Teddy, "Well, there's a sandwich" After getting the bag, yes there are 2 slices of bread in the container but that's it.
I sit down at the kitchen table, send Connor and Tessi out of the room, turn to Teddy and in my best calm voice (still sans tea), "Um, Teddy...What the Hell?"
Silence.
Head turns away.
Again I ask. Annoyance is rapidly turning to rage. He says he was tired. Right. He lied because he was tired. Try again kid. Then he just wasn't thinking. That one made me smile. He concocted a story about seeing a bag of salami and he wasn't thinking? That's impressive. Not too many people can make that claim.
I mention how he was always the kid who told the truth and over the past few months he's been lying about everything but his name. Really stupid stuff. Like, "Oh, you watching tv and playing the Touch" "No, I"m not!" He's sitting on the couch watching tv and the touch is lit up while in his hands. Oh, ok. My bad.
As I'm wheedling him down and trying to break his reserve I notice that his jaw is clenching and he's snorting his nose a bit. Wait...sorry...you are mad at me?
Winner!!!!! He's mad at me because I never believe him! Now my rage has turned to a near fit like spasm in my brain and my words start slurring. He is in his room right now furious that I never believe him and I don't trust him. This has all ended up as my fault! Sheer Genius on his part!
This is the part where being a psych nurse would have been helpful. Perhaps if I could have keep calm and impassive rather than having the contempt and rage ooze out of my face it would have ended a wee bit more rationally. Sadly, I was a Communications Major with a Minor in Criminal Justice in college. So I my skills lay in being able to communicate that I know how to catch him being a lying little shit.
I would like to go on record as saying that I do love him and yes, he is breathing right now. That's all I got.
What you need is advanced coursework in psychological nursing. Think Nurse Ratchett type stuff. I don't mean the ins and outs of pharmaceuticals, I leave that to doctors. I'm talking about the skill set of listening to the ramblings of deranged, psychotic, pathological liars while restraining the desire to choke the living shit out of them. To be able to temper your own need to vomit after listening to their paranoid delusions of persecution and to quite honestly fake expressions of compassion, sympathy and of course understanding. If none of that works it would also be handy to know how to get someone in a head lock quickly and usher them to their rooms to contain them for your safety and theirs.
You may be wondering why I'm mentioning the need for these skills. Well, it turns out that I am woefully lacking in them. My son, the pre-teen God of the house, greeted me this morning with one of the more lame and ridiculous lies I've ever had the misfortune to endure. And since I am not the developmentally challanged tree sloth he believes me to be, I knew he was lying. I hadn't even had my tea yet and I knew he lied, that is saying something.
He lied about making his sandwich or not for lunch. I said, "Really, that's nice, I was going to make it. What did you think of the new container I put the salami in?" Instead of the usual, "Why would you put it a container? Jees, that's silly" he turned away from me, walked out and said, "It was nice." I followed him asking what he thought, he finally said, "Oh didn't see container I found a bag of it in the drawer" Really? I used up the last bit of that the other day to make his sandwiches and just bought more yesterday. There was no bag. "Teddy, if I checked your bag would I find a salami sandwich?" Teddy, "Well, there's a sandwich" After getting the bag, yes there are 2 slices of bread in the container but that's it.
I sit down at the kitchen table, send Connor and Tessi out of the room, turn to Teddy and in my best calm voice (still sans tea), "Um, Teddy...What the Hell?"
Silence.
Head turns away.
Again I ask. Annoyance is rapidly turning to rage. He says he was tired. Right. He lied because he was tired. Try again kid. Then he just wasn't thinking. That one made me smile. He concocted a story about seeing a bag of salami and he wasn't thinking? That's impressive. Not too many people can make that claim.
I mention how he was always the kid who told the truth and over the past few months he's been lying about everything but his name. Really stupid stuff. Like, "Oh, you watching tv and playing the Touch" "No, I"m not!" He's sitting on the couch watching tv and the touch is lit up while in his hands. Oh, ok. My bad.
As I'm wheedling him down and trying to break his reserve I notice that his jaw is clenching and he's snorting his nose a bit. Wait...sorry...you are mad at me?
Winner!!!!! He's mad at me because I never believe him! Now my rage has turned to a near fit like spasm in my brain and my words start slurring. He is in his room right now furious that I never believe him and I don't trust him. This has all ended up as my fault! Sheer Genius on his part!
This is the part where being a psych nurse would have been helpful. Perhaps if I could have keep calm and impassive rather than having the contempt and rage ooze out of my face it would have ended a wee bit more rationally. Sadly, I was a Communications Major with a Minor in Criminal Justice in college. So I my skills lay in being able to communicate that I know how to catch him being a lying little shit.
I would like to go on record as saying that I do love him and yes, he is breathing right now. That's all I got.
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