My 8 year old son has this … thing he does.
I hate it.
Whenever I ask him to do something he doesn’t want to do, like, for example, throw the rubbish he’s just handed me into the bin or put his dirty clothes in the wash, without hesitation, he turns to his six year old brother and says “Can you put this in the bin/wash for me?”
(And little brother does it, without hesitation – grrrrr)
And every time he does it I find myself saying “Hey, that’s not nice. Do it yourself!”
Sometimes I’ve had longer conversations about treating people like slaves. But that’s only because he’s managed to convince his younger brother that he is, in fact, his slave and must “do his bidding”. That’s a whole other post.
Every time he does it, I cringe. Ever time I hear myself saying “Stop it” I wonder what the cringe is about.
It’s because he can delegate a task he doesn’t want to do, nicely, without hesitation, without fear of upsetting someone or making them feel like they’re being used, and without thinking twice.
What I hate about it is that he can do it and I can’t.
It’s a skill, a quality that I really wish I owned, and something I’ve worked very hard on for the last few years. In fact, something I’m still working on – how to delegate a task without feeling bad/guilty for it.
What I don’t like about my son is he has something I really want.
And when I grow up, I want to be just like him! Because he’s awesome!
The cynic in me (or perhaps its the realist in me) has long believed that if you mention the word “wedding” or “baby” the price of stuff goes up. Add an extra “0″ to the price.
I also believe, particularly in relation to babies, there is a whole heap of crap “they” try to sell you that you don’t really need. I like to call it “Emotional Blackmail”.
Some of these things are downright ridiculous. Seriously, are we so intent on breeding an entire generation of kids who have zero concept that there is perhaps a little bit of discomfort in the world.
If this isn’t Extreme Overprotective Parenting (EOP) then I don’t know what is. Welcome to the Baby Wipe Warmer!
(My first thought when I saw these was “Are you fucking kidding me?!” And I don’t usually swear in reviews)
Let me be upfront, as that is the point of a good review. I don’t actually own one of these, because I’m not stupid enough to buy one myself, and even my friends who purchase me the most ironic of gifts would know they’d have it thrown back at their heads within moments of me unwrapping it.
Aside from neglecting your child from experiencing a bit of reality for a mere 3 seconds at a time (and if it didn’t poo so often, it wouldn’t experience this abuse on such a regular basis) and depriving yourself of the enjoyment of payback with a cold, moist cloth, you also get to pay for the privelege of owning one. At the expense of your Vodka habit, of course, which is also most suitable for aiding you with a baby who squirms when you wipe it’s bum.
Of course, oh evil mummy, if you don’t buy one, you’re child will undoubtably grow up with severe emotional and psychological issues, and quite possibly Post Traumatic Stress Disorder at the prolonged abuse you have inclflicted upon him or her for the first 2-3 years of it’s life. Like it will even remember how horrible you were to it.
Sheesh.
The funniest thing, however – even more riduculous than there very fact that these products are out there and being purchased (dare I say, by moronic parents who have either been sucked in BIG TIME or have EOP Syndrome) – when I searched, over 104,000 links came up! WTF?!, and there are over thirty different sorts of baby wipe warmers you can purchase, including travel wipes warmers!
One even comes with a light! Because? You’re a moron with more money than sense, who finds it hard to see in the dark? I’m guessing.
It’s products like this that make me really wish I’d run with some of my freaking ridiculous ideas that sound fabulous at 2am, but in the harsh light of day are, well, freaking ridiculous. I might be closer to living the reality of a holiday in the Bahamas.
So, if you’ve been sucked in to purchasing one of these, go see your psych about dealing with your EOP, and your GP to see if they have any meds to help. And if you’ve nothing better to spend you’re money on, feel free to send some my way. I take cash, Visa and sauvignon blanc (preferably from Marlborough, NZ).
I’m still shaking my head in disbelief that products like this are actually selling … some people will sell anything to expectant parents. And it’s wrong, I tell you. Wrong!
Note: EOP or Extreme Overprotective Parenting is not a real disorder. Yet. It’s one that I made up just today. However, if you have purchased a baby wipe warmer and it wasn’t a sarcastic gift for someone else, I think it may be more real than we believe and should perhaps be listed in the DSM.
Our local council, in it’s infinite wisdom has decided to, according to last week’s local paper, “Make Parents Pay” for the damage their children do to local properties; business and residential. Oh, and council property as well.
We’re also talking teenage children here, by the way.
Parents “should” be more responsible for their kids and teach them the right things, and know where they are and what they are up to. It’s the parents “fault” that this is happening, therefore, they “should” pay. Sounds reasonable when you look at it like that.
Then, I pick up the Melbourne paper – the Herald Sun. More steet violence, bashings, deaths etc. And lots more “no, no we’re not going to consider closing bars earlier, and, perhaps in the process, foster an enviroment that discourages stupid, violent behaviours and STOP providing means for which people can get shitfaced and beat the crap out of each other”.
And while we’re blaming the parents, and spending loads of time and money on implementing stupid laws like “ooh, don’t smack your kids when they’re being right little fuckers” we also won’t consider offering them any help and support, offer them alternative methods of disciplining kids, or helping them to see that there are alternatives.
Coz I personally think that standing over them saying “naughty naughty” and “you should be ashamed of yourselves and do something about your kids” is sooooo much more productive than providing them with skills, knowledge and tools to parent their kids stress free and in a way which fosters great relationships with their kids, and teaches them some fabulous social morals and values.
(Oh, wait, that last paragraph containes some sarcasm. Could you pick it?)
Police are bashed while trying to do their job, and calls for harsher penalties for people who go cops are dismissed.
Two children dead by their own hands, because they’ve been bullied at school, another killed in an incident at the school. The schools responses in each case? “Bullying? What bullying? We’ve got it sorted.”
Clearly.
Now, I don’t want to come across as suggesting that parents don’t have a huge part to play in the upbringing of their children. They do, and I do agree that they are majority responsible for the way their children behave.
I also don’t want to imply that it’s ok for parents to throw their hands up and say “I can’t do anything” and blame the world around them, and anyone and everyone else, for their kids behaviours.
However, to squarely point the finger at parents and take no responsibily themselves, oh mayors of cities and leaders of our states, is highly irresponsible.
How do parents come down on their kids when the kids see that nothing, literally nothing, will happen to them if the misbehave at such a despicable level? Why would kids listen to their parents when they know that they’ll get away with it? When people who have more power in handing out disciplinary measures, like sending people to gaol, shrug their shoulders and refuse to do anything?
How do parents enforce such morals and values when the very society they live in won’t back them up? When society says it’s ok to disrespect authority (in this case, the police) and nothing will happen to you?
This is our village, people, and those “higher up” than we mere parents need to be backing and supporting us, just as we aim to raise respectful and compassionate individuals to live in the society. The morals and values of the community need to be congruent with those of the family. It’s hard enough raising kids without the larger social structure contradiciting what we’re attempting to enforce, then turning around and telling us it’s our fault and our job to fix it.
I’m putting out the call for everyone to stop the finger pointing and start taking responsibility for the raising of our children.
And do us a favour, rather than telling us how crap we are at parenting, set the example for us, back us up and give us back the power to say to our kids “do that again and you will be locked up! And not by me, this time, but by that lovely policeman over there.”
They do say it takes a village to raise a child. We’ve already long ago lost the rest of our villages to help us raise and support our kids. Seems we now longer have a village at all. Just a whole bunch of individuals who don’t wanna take responsibilty for anything.
I really hate it when that happens.
I do a blog post on boobs, and the next day there is a newspaper article on a very similar topic that kinda contradicts what I’m saying.
This particular arcticle, a teensy one by Evonne Barry of the Melbourne Herald Sun pretty much states that:
The sexualisation of women’s bodies has turned a generation off public breastfeeding, according to a maternity report.
The Newspoll survey found 36 percent of poeople aged 18-24 believe breastfeeding is “unacceptable” in the workplace and in cafes, compared with 27% of all adults surveyed.
I do think it is very sad that this exists, and that so many people think like this. I do stand by my argument, however, that women’s bodies, and breasts, are sexual by their very nature.
And the angle I hadn’t considered was the angle that women would find it uncomfortable breastfeeding because boobs have been sexualised. Considering my own thoughts and feelings (and yes, they are mine and mine alone) I guess I don’t like people looking at my boobs when I’m feeding coz it does make me feel a little bit icky. I feel this because they are a sensual part of my body, and, I feel, quite private. Not sure if I’ve explained that terribly well at all!
Anyhoo, if boobs weren’t sexual or sensual in the first place, I don’t believe the issue would be as huge as it is. I don’t believe boobs would be sexualised in the manner that they are if they weren’t sexual or sensual. In which case, it would be a moot point, breasts wouldn’t be sexualised and no one would be able to blame the media for anything. Or for this, anyway.
*sigh*
If only it were all that simple. I really wish we could all just accept and live with both.
As I said in the last boobie post – breasts, like women, are multitasking and multifunctional. Why are we not applauding this diversity of the boob? I know I am.
(Any excuse for a celebratory bubbles, really 
)
Thank goodness the end of Winter is nigh!
Apart from the cold, and, if you’re in Melbourne, the Bloody FREEZING Cold, there is also the issue of Parent Guilt. How so, you may be asking (and if you’re not asking, you probably already know and are amongst the 34% of parents referred to in this study) ?
Do you feel guilty about taking time off work when you’re sick? Spare a thought for working parents who are forced to suffer feelings of guilt if they take time off to care for their sick children.
According to research commissioned by Vicks, 34 percent of working parents experience feelings of guilt when they take time off work to look after their sick children and a further 16 percent report it is actually frowned upon by their employer.
The biggest surprise and a significant sign of the times is that ten percent of parents confess they’re actually too scared to ask for time off given the current economic climate.
With 30 percent of families suffering four or more colds a year, there is little parents can do but take it on the chin. Two in three parents however, admit to sending their symptomatic kids to school, increasing the likelihood of spreading illnesses to others and potentially landing other parents in the same position they face.
Well known mother of three and family icon, Symantha Perkins, is more than experienced at juggling career and motherhood and commented on the findings, “No one likes to admit that they send their sick child to school but it seems more parents are being left with no other option.”
I don’t like to cast aspertions on anyone, but would be interested to see these feelings of guilt gender-split. Just going off the comments left on the Retell Therapy Forums, Mums generally are the ones who ring in ‘sick’ to stay home and look after their kids. Not suggesting Dads don’t, I’d just love to see if there is a particular parent bias in this trend.
Course, the whole Mother Guilt, isn’t restricted to just Mothering, either, is it? Noooo. We feel guilty if we call in to take a day off, and we feel guilty if we don’t, we feel guilty if we send them to school when they’re not all that well, or leave them in the care of someone else, or give them an extra dose of pandol during the day or … or … or… the list goes on.
We bumble through our day, regardless of the decision we’ve made, feeling guilty along the way. We make it to the end, pour ourselves a Vodka and then feel guilty for not having coped better.
On the upside, the Vodka is great for helping ward off the cold virus on the chance it’s gonna infect you as well. You know, on the off chance you stop for long enough for it to attempt to iflict itself upon you.
That’s my excuse and I’m stickin’ to it.
Just after lunch today a safety barrier was breached putting the lives of 32 LEGO men in danger.
The safety barrier had been in place for some weeks, when just last week the 11 month old discovered he could crawl his way under it. It was reconfigured this morning to prevent access to the area by Mummy, who was, quite frankly, sick of the whinging of the eight year old, despite her numerous requests, pleas and commands that the LEGO men be safely stored in boxes with lids. Not that this is any guarantee of their safety.
Concern increased after the noted disappearance of a LEGO man dressed in chef’s attire and carrying a chicken drumstick. Despite requests by the eight year old of his Mummy to “look through the baby’s poo” in order to locate his whereabouts, he remains unfound, although chances of his reappearance are greatly increased if eight year old will just bloody look for it, will you?!
The culprit was caught scaling the barrier shortly after his lunch of Vegemite sandwiches and cat food.
The LEGO men at risk lay huddled, clearly petrified with terror and unable to move, in the middle of the room until the danger had passed.
The need for a more suitable safety gate will be discussed over the evening meal, although Mummy is, quite frankly, pissed that this will probably be at the expense of a new pair of shoes. For herself.
If anyone knows the whereabouts of the LEGO Chef man, please contact Monkey Boy immediately before Mummy completely loses the plot.
Get those kids a LIFE!
I’ve been searching the web, but can’t find the commercial for some Napisan Oxyaction washing type thing that washes your clothes better than anyone else, or removes stains or something.
There’s been much discussion about these commercials and how they protray mothers and/or family life; you know, happy mums, neatly dressed with hair salon tussled to look like she’s not all neat and tidy and anal, but is really more like the Hugh Grant character in About A Boy who visist the hairdresser on a dailyl basis to have his hair styled in a way that looks like it hasn’t been. Styled.
Anyhoo, I rarely take notice of these advertisements, mostly due to the fact I look nothing like those mother’s on TV, therefore, they must not be referring to me. Secondly, I have absolutely no desire to aspire to be one of those mums.
This lack of desire for such aspiration was recently cemented with the showing of the latest advert whereby two childnre (boys) are tossing a cooked pizza around – the only realistic component of the commercial – and one of them, not surprisingly, drops it on his – get this – cream coloured pants and the neatly dresses, calm, collected, salon tossled be-haired mum says “Oh, no. How am I going to get that out?”
And then the boys are suitably remorseful and ever so interested in how the stain is going to come out and even more interested in the result.
I don’t know where to start. I want children like that! Where do they come from? I’ve searched e-bay and can’t find them. I’ve even offered my own kids up on MumSwap but no one’s offering the good kids anywhere.
As for Mum, what the hell is she doing buying her boys cream coloured pants, FFS! Far as I’m concerned she’s asking for trouble.
But I do ask – what is she on?! Whatever it is, I want some! Stat! I think my kids would appreciate it, too. Very much so.
Where was the “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” muttered under the breath when the pizza was dropped? Where was the “What the hell were you thinking?” when she observed the stain?
The “Oh, great, more washing. Woo hoo for me!”? and the “Do your own damned washing if you’re going to carry on like a bloody idiot! I’ve got better things to do with my time!”
Why did she not go off to the liquor cabinet and toss down a tumbler of gin? Or stuff an entire family sized block of chocolate down her gullet? What is wrong with her?
Can I get some of whatever it is she’ takes with her morning coffee? I could really use it.
Of course, after her completely unrealistically calm and controlled “tantrum” about the greasy stains on the pants, the magic fairies came along with the Napisan stuff and did her washing for her, while she stood by smiling happily. I’d be standing around smiling happily, too, if the Magic Fairies came to my house and did my washing. I’d even also feign interest in what they were doing, just so as not to upset them or anything.
*sigh*
How lovely would it be to live in one of those drug induced states, also known as TV Commercial Land, all the time?
Ah, gotta love school projects. No idea why they’re referred to as “school” projects, when the note gets sent home, addressed to the parents, with very clear instruction that the intention is for the project to be done at home.
Of course, part way through doing the project, you know damn well why the teachers don’t want the bloody things done at school!
Anyway – our (no, wait, Monkey Boy’s) school science project of his choosing is a Volcano. But first we have to make the volcano bit. In our infinite wisdom, and, mostly, lack of experience, we determined a papier mache volcano would be the way to go;
How to Make a Papier Mache Volcano
You will need:
- plain flour
- water
- a bottle of some sort (not a very big one, otherwise you’ll end up with a really ginormous volcano that won’t fit in your car to take to the science fair at school)
- a cake board or other thick cardboard
- a sense of humour or, at the very least, a sizeable amount of patience and tolerance
Now do this:
- Find someone who knows how to make papier mache and hassle them until they tell you. The will start with “are you insane, it’s easy!” until they realise you are serious and ignorant, then they will tell you
- Ask them to define “gloopy”
- Dress in your daggiest work wear, and, if possible, short sleeve tops are recommended. Garbage bags or nudity are even more appropriate
- Tear up bits of newspaper. Lots of it
- Calm children down and wipe away tears after Father Figure yells at them for tearing up paper he was actually reading at the time of newspaper tearage
- Locate sticky tape to repair damaged today’s paper, and find a more suitable newspaper to tear up
- Instruct, again, on the size of torn off bits required
- Find a suitable spot outside to commence construction
- Race around back yard, picking up bits of blown away newspaper
- Find a brick to hold bits of newspaper down
- Find a bucket, bowl or similar receptacle
- Fill a jug with water and locate the flour
- Make sure you use plain flour, and NOT self-raising
- Add flour to bowl and mix in water, a little at a time
- Add more flour
- Add more water
- Repeat until gloopy and you have in the vicinity 186 litres of gloopy flour and water mix
- Place the bottle in the middle of the cake baord or thick card
- Dip some newspaper in the gloop, and start adding it to the bottle and board
- Better still, get the bloody kid to do it – it’s his project!
- Long bits of paper can be used to run down the side of the bottle, making the volcano shape and adhering bottle to the board
- Remove coffee MUG from table using a handy chisel
- Prevent 6 year old from consuming gloopy flour mix
- Remove cat from clutches of infant (no, its not stuck with gloopy mix, he just likes the cat)
- Remove infant from bowl of gloopy mix
- Remove cat from clutches of infant using scissors to trim cat’s fur
- Remove bits of gloop covered newspaper from 8 year old’s hair
- Using a hairdryer, make sure you dry between each layer of glued on newspaper
- Alternatively, leave each layer overnight and drag this friggin’ nightmare out for the next 17 years!
- Break for lunch, walk down street to purchase bread rolls and ponder why everyone is looking at you oddly
- Check face in bathroom mirror when you return home and discover the obvious
- Retrieve chisel from infant and remove gloop from face, hair and various other body parts
- No, you really don’t want to think about how gloop got there
- Suitably nourished, recommence sticking
- Yell loudly for grade 3 child to “Come back and help – it’s your damn project!”
- Check temper levels – yup, they’re about where expected – throw handfuls of wrongly sized shredded newspaper into gloop and state “I’m sick of this. If you’re not going to listen to me tell you how to do it properly, do it yourself!”
- Realise you have no idea how to do it properly yourself, feel guilty and go back and keep sticking
- Forbid 8 year old to leave you to do it yourself – force him to suffer, just like you are!
- Volcano is now looking vaguely volcano shaped
- Board you have set it on has curled up – convince yourself this is ok, as this will prevent the “lava” from running over sides and onto carpet at school
- Resent fact that you have pretty much rendered the entire backyard, including the cats, with gloop, yet are concerned about state of carpet in classroom
- Pour self large – no LARGE – glass of wine
- With remaining gloop mix, make enough pancakes to feed entire 3rd World (remember to add sugar or they will taste icky)
- With the still remaining gloop, retile bathroom (both of them) and that of the neighbours
- Sell remainder to builders building ridiclous 7 storey appartment block up the road
- Go do something more fun, like stick hot needles in your eyes …
*sigh*
And that’s just the volcano – Part 2 is the “lava”
Thinking of my post last week about kids and their eating of greens, or, rather, lack of eating greens, subsequent discussions on the Retell Therapy Forums about picky eaters and thinking about what my own kids eat, I began delving into the issue of where the problem with picky eating lies.
It was mostly thinking about what my own kids eat that lead me to the conclusion that the issues we have with picky eaters lies with the parents. Yes, you, the parent! No, not in a “you’re a bad mummy because you let your kids sniff McDonalds” kind of way. No fault or finger pointing or ‘you should’s here.
This food pyramid , for children aged 6-12 months explains a little.
Although it is generally recommended that foods that fall into the top category of the pyrmaid are limited, they are still included on the pyramid. My argument would be the number of foodstuffs left off this particular pyramid. Things such as:
- cat and dog food
- floor sweepings
- marbles and other smallish toys owned by older siblings
- beside the fridge toast
- stuff sucked off the bottom of shoes
As chidren get older, of course, they require a wider variety of foods, and more of them. Provisions such as:
- couch Twisties
- school bag … hmmm, don’t want to hazzard a guess as to what that is
- under the table chewing gum
- footpath lollies
- supermarket floor broken biscuits
- leftover food under cafe tables
Now, does this sound like the gastronomic endeavours of a “picky eater” to you? Sounds to me like they’ll eat just about anything. Except, of course, the lovingly prepared and reasonably healthy foods you prepare for them.
It seems that it is the parents who are the picky ones with their “Argh! Don’t eat that, its disgusting”s and their “Eat your vegies or you won’t get dessert!”s. Looking at it from a totally different perspective, the kids aren’t at all picky, and, even better, seem to be quite adequate at fending for themselves. Mini hunter-gatherers if you will.
The benefits don’t stop there. Imagine the time you’ll save only having to make school lunch 3 times a week? Or getting them to clean their bags out at the end of school term … there’s a few days worth of feeding right there.
Buy them a milkshake when you’re out for coffee and they’ll locate their own treat type snacks to go with it.
Tantrums in shopping centres will no longer be an issue once you allow them to have the lollypop they want; the one stuck to the floor in isle 3. Boredom is relieved as they spend time removing the stray Skittle from the floor at indoor soccer while awaiting their brother to finish his game.
Parents really do need to start taking more responsibilty for their own issues, and stop pointing fingers at the kids and blaming them for being picky eaters! Quite clearly, they’re not!
I’ve been sitting on this post for a bit, as have been most loath to mention some names. Names of people I feel don’t deserve any attention, any mention at all.
I fear mentioning their names only adds to their already exceedingly high obnoxious levels.
However, with the recent bashings and violence in Melbourne, which has left me quite sick to the stomach for several reasons, I can’t help but think what hope our kids have when these names keep appearing in the paper for the most mundane reasons.
“Party Boy Cory” for one. Who got a speeding fine. WHO FUCKING CARES?!
Is anyone getting a speeding fine “news”? Ok, maybe the pollies and the police, coz they’re supposed to be setting examples.
“Claire” whatsherface who lied about a shooting. WOW, there’s a great role model for our children. Last I heard, lying to the police was illegal. Must catch up with the times, me thinks.
Because, apparently, disrespecting your parents, lying, causing disruption and damage to the property of others, and to police vehicles is all ok. Most ok, actually, coz its us suckers – the taxpayers – who pick up the tab. And they get waaaaaaay more than their 15 minutes of fame. There are alleged job offers, cameras following their boring, insidious lives and constant, positive attention.
Aren’t all the parenting “experts” telling us that, in order to get our kids to behave, we use positive reinforcement. Isn’t this just a form of postitive reinforcement?
What’s worse is that my husband and I (sorry, got all regal there for a moment) are trying to set good examples for our kids. We’re trying to be there for them as often as we can, and, at the same time, display good work ethics (me from home), respect for authority and compassion for others, regardless of … anything really.
Now, I may be wrong, but I’m willing to bet Cory, Claire and the myriad others beating the crap out of people aren’t acknowledged for the great work they do. I’m willing to bet they don’t receive bottles of wine accompanied by sincere thank you notes, or e-mails containing words such as “Thank you so much. I was having a really bad day today, and if it wasn’t for the site you have provided, I would be dead right now.”
I receive them a lot.
Not blowing my own horn … I know there are plenty of other organisations and businesses out there that do 100, 1000 fold the good I do. More.
But what are my kids seeing when this absolute crap is everywhere, and I’m at home, working my bum off, struggling to get any kind of media attention? Any attention at all, really.
How can parents set a good example for their kids when it is constantly overridden by the utter crap sprouted by the media about people who are, quite frankly, a complete waste of air? Isn’t our job as a parent not hard enough, without the opinions of others coming at us constantly, and the daily “latest research” on how we’re doing it all wrong, only to be contradicted a week later?
I get that people like to hear bad news stories. I’m aware the attempts at good news TV shows and broadprint publications have been dismal failures.
But there’s the bad news the morbid voyeurs of us can’t turn away from.
And then there is ABSOLUTE FUCKING CRAP Not News!
(Apologies for the profanilty – but calling it ABSOLUTE CRAP is so far an understatement it’s not funny)
Not only is it not news, but you’re just going to end up with more of the same. The Celebrity State society we live in makes getting your head on TV the number one priority. Just because it’s on there because you beat the life (literally in many cases) of an undeserving third party is irrelevant. And if you can get your head on there by doing it, why the hell not?
Enough is enough! If you can’t / won’t /don’t want to refer to the decent people in society, fair enough.
But please stop with this shit. The only consolation of the repetitive images of Cory is that he looks and behaves, in every photo, like a complete fuckwit. Not something many children I know are aspiring to, thankfully!
Hmm, maybe the fashion mags to have something going for them …
