Are you her Grandmother?

A friend of mine was recently asked this question, “Are you her Grandmother.” My lovely friend was shocked into stupor. Eventually stammering, “No, I’m her mother.”

We bonded over this issue, we are both ‘Older Mums’, so later, when debriefing this situation we ended up laughing at some of the potential comebacks.

“No, I’m the nanny.”

“Yes, she’s my 10th.”

But then we got serious, why would someone ask this question? In both our cases we had married later and then were blessed with children we had begun to think we would never have. But what if the story was different. What if our answer to this question was “Yes, we tried, for years and years, and now I’m a mother” or, “Yes, the cancer prevented us from conceiving earlier.” What makes people think this question is ok?

Recently, sitting at a shopping centre play ground, rather than assume, I asked a lady how old her daughter was, she threw her head back and laughed, “I’m the grandmother.”

But you couldn’t wipe the smile off her face.

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We need to get out of the house!

It’s raining and school holidays. The kids are going nuts. There is fighting and laughing and screaming and mess and half eaten food all over the house.
HHHHEEEEEEELLLLLLPPPPPPP………………..
I am a teacher, I should be able to deal with this like it’s nothing. After all it’s what I do every day right?
But this isn’t the same, these are my kids, they don’t listen and I’m tired after a 10 week term.
I’ve been thinking about my parent friends who would kill to have every holiday off to spend with their kids, and here am I whinging that it’s exhausting. Hats off to stay at home parents. I need to go back to work for a rest.
So I’ve packed a picnic and the raincoats and we are off to the park. We’ll burn off some energy and come home and I will try to relax. Through the renewed fighting and laughing and screaming and mess and half eaten food all over the house.
Haha

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It’s a whole new world

Having a child start prep involves opening up a whole new world of knowings and unknowings.
What I knew before: (I’m a teacher right, I should know it all) 1. He is in prep (derr…)
2. He will need lunch and a snack every day
3. He needs to bring the correct stuff on the correct days, like his library bag/book on Tuesdays.

What I didn’t know: (Really? This know it all didn’t know something?) 1. He won’t know what day it is to remember what stuff he needs on what days, like have his news ready for Mondays, his library bag/book on Tuesdays, to wear his PE uniform on Thursdays, to bring his reader bag on Fridays.
2. There is no such thing as “Show and tell” any more. Now it’s “News”, a prescribed list of things that must be discussed in front of the class. This week it was, “Do a science experiment at home and film it, bring in the film and show it.” School really has changed since my day, am I feeling my age?
3. How it feels to be on the other side of the principals desk. I am usually on the other side of these conversations. So he got into trouble right? He lashed out at a few kids because they were breaking the rules. My husband and I got called in to discuss his behaviour with the teacher and deputy principal. I sat there, eyes downcast, fidgeting with my finger nails. Awkward…
4. There really is a “Car Park Mafia”. Those mums who wait outside the school and talk “school”. Good and bad, so easy to get caught up in it. I don’t want to be a member but it’s hard to escape.
5. Being a working mum means I miss out on cool things that happen for my son. This one is obvious, what I didn’t know was how it would feel when there is an assembly, a sports day, dress ups for book week. I know he’d like it if I was there too. :o(
6. That lunch and snack is much more than a sandwich an an apples that’s how we started. Now he has a sandwich, an apple, a bannana, a packet of biscuits and a juice box.
7. That strangers invite your child over for a sleep over. This one really threw me. Who are you again?
8. That a child’s version of the truth isn’t necessarily the truth. If I believed all the stories that come home I’d be a wreck.
8. That you really do need to look ok at school pick up. I don’t mean high heels and royal jewellery. Just have some pride.
9. This goes for daily life, have some pride in your appearance. I got caught out at Bunnings when the school was running the BBQ, ran into a number of other parents in my daggy track pants. Jeepers…
10. That lost things may be lost forever. I hate losing things, but if you’ve ever seen a primary school lost property box you’ll understand that it’s like a black hole that you should fear diving into. And even if you do it does not mean you will find what you were looking for.

So beware future first time prep parents. There is a whole new world out there to experience. 

Enjoy the bewilderment. 

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So it’s 10pm and still 37.c outside!

So when you get pregnant your core temperature rises, and guess what? It never goes back down to what it used to be. We are always just that little bit hotter. So now that I have had two babies, I swear the days are hotter for me than everyone else, although I do tend to exaggerate.
So today reached a mighty top of 43.c.
And what does any parent trying to hang onto their sanity do on a day like today, especially one who is hotter (temperature wise…) than anyone else IN THE WORLD?
Before 9am myself and the two tykes walked around the block once, then we collected the pram and did it again. I knew we wouldn’t be leaving the house again today.
Then we played, watched some ABC4Kidz and then watched two movies. Yes two!
At this point we were all a little stir crazy so I pulled the blow up kids pool into the shade and filled it. Ahh, the relief, all four of us, Mum (me), Dad, and tyke 1 and 2. All in the 2meter by 1 meter, 2 foot deep wading pool.
I can’t explain the joy it brought all of us. 1. We were out of the house. 2. We were all together. 3. It was much cooler in the pool, in fact at one point my son said he was cold! 4. We played out hearts out. Jumping, splashing, dumping, filling cups and buckets, sinking ships. It was undoubtedly the most fun I have had outdoors in eons.
What do you do with the kids to escape the heat? Or indeed the cold given that there is a polar vortex on the opposite side of the world right now.

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Baking and decorating.

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For my Nephews 3rd birthday

So I’ve been baking. These photos would make it look like I’ve been baking a lot! But the ‘Hungry Caterpiller’ was for my daughters first birthday and the ‘Peppa Pig’ was her second birthday! I really enjoy it and am considering doing a course in cake decoration.
What do you think?

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Tired? Oh yes indeed!

I am tired. Do younger mums get as tired as I do?
Actually I have decided NO ONE is as tired as I am.
Watching tv I saw an “Older Mother” talking about the joys of motherhood. How lucky she felt, how we’ll she was coping. Ahh… this is me, I think. And then she said “I guess one of the draw backs is that I am more tired than a younger mother.”
WHAT? Really?
I was so annoyed by this. Don’t young mums get tired when they are up a dozen times in the night? Are they really less tired because they have 10 years on me. I seriously doubt it.
Yes I am tired, but I still get up at 5.45 when, apparently, it’s morning for my 4yo and 1yo. I still function for the whole day, I go to work, I cook the meals and keep the house (with help from a lovely husband).
I have 10 years extra experience that tells me it’s ok to go to bed at 9-9.30pm (Sometimes 8.30 if the mood takes me). I am alive, I am fit and well, I go to the gym, I play in the back yard, we go bike riding as a family.
Sometimes I lack energy, “Mum, jump on the trampoline with me.” 50% of the time I get up there, ok, make that 30%, but is that really different to a lot of other mums? I bet there are 50 year old mums who get up on the trampoline 100% of the time.
I ask you, how many 24 year old mums, after working, playing, changing nappies, cooking, cleaning and loving have the energy to get on the trampoline 100% of the time. I raise my hand to you if you can, but I do not believe that the fact that I don’t is a reflection of my age.
I am tired, but so are you.

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Don’t mess with my presets

One good thing about music, when it hits you you feel no pain. Bob Marley.

Upon buying a car recently the young man who sold it to me made a serious Pre-judgement about who I am. He jumped into the car on collection and changed only one preset.
He literally looked at me, said nothing, looked at the radio and plugged in a new preset.
So what was it? Clearly a funky new age, hip music station? Or one with earthy, Australian beats? Alternative? Surely a station with funk?
Smooth FM.
SMOOTH FM!!!

“Smoothfm your easy place to relax”
How insulting, do I look like a grandma? He certainly made me feel like one.

And then…

It turns out he may have been onto something. Ok, so I like it and if that says something about my age, my generation, my sensibilities, so be it!

Elton John, Michael Buble, Adele.
80s, 90s soft rock. God, I can’t even describe it and make it sound cool.
I indignantly told this story to some 15 year old students last week and before I got to the point that I actually like it Sophie said “Ooh, yuck, yeah, that’s a terrible radio station.” Hmmm….

Well, I can say with surety that I am not 15 anymore. I’m guessing you ant surprised?

My husband and I have very different listening tastes. He likes SEN. A football dedicated channel, and I sometimes listen to current affairs (ABC Radio National) or, as you now know, Smooth FM. If he has been in the car his presets are always playing. But my own are always still there waiting for me. What will I do when the kids want to have some of their own too?
If the kids have been in the car then the wiggles may have been on, and admittedly I have been known to sing along and listen to the wiggles for over 20 minutes before I realise the kids aren’t actually in the car any more, but I think I’m not alone there. Please tell me I’m not alone there?

If you ever feel the need to change someone’s presets, don’t.
They are like a private sanctuary waiting to be tuned into at will. They should be self selected and not chosen by anyone else, especially not the man selling you your car, even if he might have been right on the mark.
He am me feel my age! Ugh, don’t you hate that!

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