Darwin Could Never Have Known…

During the week I attended a Parents Information Meeting at our school. There will be iPads issued to the upper school in the following weeks, and this session was a chance for parents to see how the technology is to be used to further our children’s education. There would be some discussion on cost to parents, school policy, internet safety and the like. Or so I thought.

Our principal, Mrs. C, runs through the details. She shares her nifty little PowerPoint presentation. We watch a YOUTUBE video on education in the 21st century.

It’s all very predictable. She then asks if anyone has any concerns about the new technology and 90% of parental hands fly into the air.

Mine doesn’t.

I’m thinking Internet Safety/Cyber Bullying/ Online Predators…yeah that must be it, what else is there to be worried about?

I should preface this by stating that our family is kinda tech savvy. We are not afraid of technology. We currently have a collective of 2 iPhones, 4 laptops, 1 net book, 1 iMac, 3 iPads and a couple of iPods, in our possession.

So, I’m wondering….What’s to be afraid of??

Mrs. C pre-empts with, “Are your concerns about Internet Safety”?

A couple of hands punctuate the airspace.

Well, what is everyone concerned about then? I’m wracking my brain…..what am I not getting? What is there to be worried about? I only see this technological advancement as a wonderful opportunity for our children’s education. What could I be missing?

I’m about to find out.

“How much time will our children be using the iPods in a typical day? Will it be all day?”

“What about teacher/student contact. If the children are basically being taught by a device, when is there going to be time for teacher involvement?”

“What about handwriting. Will handwriting still be a part of the curriculum”?

My mouth drops open. Really? You need to ask that question?

“And books. Will our children still be reading real books? We don’t want them to forget what real books look like!”

Its all feeling rather passive agressive to me. If it were me standing at the lectern fielding these questions I’d probably be getting quite terse by now. Mrs. C is cool as a cucumber. I realise she is probably used to answering to this particular brand of parental outrage.
She calmly explains that books and pencils will still be a very large part of our children’s education, of course they will.
I cannot believe that she actually needs to say those words.

“RSI and carpel tunnel are a real concern. We’re wondering how you are going to monitor the children’s sitting positions and what you are going to put in place to ensure these health conditions don’t result from this introduction of technology.”

My jaw hits the floor.
I would have replied ‘Well you know a child sitting at a desk with an iPad is no different to a child sitting at a desk with a book. Are you suggesting a chiropractor be on standby for each class? Or just that the teachers should be checking for ergonomically efficient positioning of your child’s bottom on their chair??’

Mrs. C. blinks. She’s looking….perplexed. I’m pretty sure she is as beginning to feel as exasperated with these questions as I am, but she hides it well. She says simply ‘Yes RSI is a concern, that is something we will monitor as time goes on’

Some of the people around me are not game to raise their question publicly but I hear them talking amongst themselves.

“What about art and creativity!? Will they still be using pencils and paints and real tangible tools?”

“Whatever happened to the good old text book?”

“Are all areas of the curriculum going to be made the responsibility of this iPad thing? There will be nothing else! Our children will grow up proficient in ‘ipad101’ and the basics of education will be lost!”

Puh-lease.
I almost wanted to leave. There was a clear division between parents and teachers. I could almost see a line forming on the carpet between parents and teachers chairs. And I didn’t want to be on the side I was on.
I just sat there shaking my head in utter disbelief.

You know it wasn’t that long ago that we didn’t even have computers in schools. I finished my VCE without the use of internet, as did all of my peers. That was only 16 years ago and the very thought is inconceivable today. I wonder if parents were afraid of introducing the humble PC into their children’s education back then. Did my parents think a PC was going to somehow strip me of my ability to write with a pencil? Or destroy my love of reading? Or hinder my interaction with my teachers?
If we go back a little further into the history of education we remember when we used to believe that the only education our children required was the three “R’s,” (reading, writing and arithmetic) together with lessons on how to be good moral, law-abiding citizens. There were opponents of this idea of course, people felt that the child of a blacksmith didn’t need any more education than what was necessary for him to become a blacksmith, the child of a farmer only what was necessary for him to be a successful farmer, our daughters’ only required education was in home economics; sewing, cooking and childrearing.
Earlier still we thought that education wasn’t really necessary at all.

Thank god for those education pioneers in our history who advocated ground-breaking concepts and believed in furthering the education of our youth in new and innovative ways.
Thank god for the amazing advocates for modern education that happen to be responsible for the tutoring of my children.

I just cannot fathom why people are so reticent to embrace such a powerful learning tool. I have no doubt whatsoever that my kids will still learn the fundamental skills of early education. I am certain that they will still write with a pencil and borrow books from the library. The curriculum is not changing; the only thing that is changing is the ability to hold a world of information and educational apps literally in the palm of their hands. What’s not to like?

We can’t change the way the world is simply by denying the changes that have happened. The Age of Technology has caused a huge cultural shift. Once a major shift in a culture occurs, you can never go back to how it once was.

You have to adapt.

Mum Look #203

Sometimes I find myself amidst a situation that I would swear has been lifted directly from a comedy skit. That or the halls of a mental institution.

Example: This very morning I was sitting on my bed, reading my emails and suddenly my door bursts open and two uniform clad boys erupt into my bedroom. Actor is first, he is holding a tub of butter and looks to be running for his life. He gets to the end of my bed, spins on his heel and crouches, matrix style. Keanu couldn’t have done it better himself.
Deflector follows wielding a butter knife. He stops abruptly when he sees his brother has turned toward him. The knife, in his right hand, crosses his chest and he takes it in both hands, samurai-esque. He glares at Actor.

Actor glares right back at him.

A standoff.

I wish I had a photo of this. My two, old-enough-to-know-better, boys in a Matrix/Samurai standoff with a tub of butter and a butter knife.

They start yelling at each other. “I had it first.” “No you didn’t I had it first!”
Deflector says “I was using it first and I have proof!” He waves the butter knife and flings a glob of oily butter onto my carpet.

Words fail me. I cannot form a coherent sentence. I am stuck somewhere between OneDayIWill KillYouKids and OhMyGodButtterOnMyCarpet.

I see it. The Oh-Shit, We-just-crossed-a-line look that flashes between them.
They both turn to look at me and suddenly they’re on the same team. Standoff forgotten.
Brothers in arms.

I just look at them. I am in disbelief. I say nothing but quickly realise I need to do something.
I pull out Mum Look #203

A you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me/deal-with-that-NOW combo

They silently bend down and work together to clean the mess. They have come together. They stand shoulder to shoulder and wait for further instruction.
And then Actor looks down and realises for the first time how ridiculous they both look with their butter weapons.
He smirks. Deflector giggles. I shake my head.
Is this my life? Disarming buttery battles?
They dissolve into raucous laughter and a boyish slapping of backs and fist bumps as they leave my room and go back to making their lunches.
Hilarity ensues.

Sometimes I can parent without even opening my mouth.

I’ll Be Right Back…

Well, what can I say? I went AWOL for a while. A long while. 
Six months to be exact.
I don’t really have a reason. Nothing exciting happened. I wish I could say I’ve been touring Europe, or learning the art of macramé whilst living in Japan. Or even that I’ve taken up cooking classes, or learned to speak fluent French. But alas, I have done none of those things.
Why didn’t I find time to write? I don’t know. I had time; I had the same 24 hours a day that we are all blessed with. What I did not have was the inclination.
In my defence, you were warned. I did tell you of my preference for the ‘all or nothing’ approach to life. Cut back to my very first blog post

I am not going to make any silly predictions along the line of “I’ll be posting once a week” because I honestly don’t know. Knowing me I will write 75 posts in the next 3 days, in a flourish of excitement, and then maybe not again for a year. That’s how I roll. If I have any sense I’ll figure out how to pace myself.

I suppose that means two things.
1. I know myself quite well, and
2. I have no sense, and therefore did not figure out how to pace myself.

Oh well.

So what is it that brings me here again, that pulls me back to the interwebs for a therapeutic word spew?
Well, I miss it. I miss my voice; I miss the catharsis that happens when I let all the words fall out. Writing really is therapy for me.
So, here I am making a promise to myself. I stand here in public domain to make myself accountable. I will make myself the promise that I was not prepared to make last year.
I hereby decree that I will make an LLL post at least once per week.

I’d better dust the cobwebs off that ‘drafts’ folder… and maybe i’ll poke the children or annoy the husband until they give some good fodder.

BRB. Promise.

Road Trips Are Like Childbirth.

We have enjoyed (or endured) our fair share of road trips in our time. The most notable was our 7000km round trip across the Nullarbor Plain, from Melbourne to Perth and back again. At the time Deflector was 7, Actor 5, Captain Clumsy 4 and Princess 2. People thought we were mad, but actually it was awesome. We loved every second of that trip. To this day we talk about how incredible it was. Apart from the boys needing a wee stop every 100km it was a joyous drive. Mostly because they hadn’t learned how to argue yet. When siblings learn how to argue with each other, you might as well resign yourself to the fact that you are never going to enjoy a road trip ever again. And I do mean never.again.

First thing – pack the car. Even a reasonably casual Sunday drive in the hills requires packing of provisions. My husband and I used to jump in the car with nothing but ourselves and our freedom. Not anymore.
We need wipes, drinks, food, toys, spare clothes, more food, books, a few sanity reserves packed within easy reach, some technological bribery for extra long drives, and… more food.

We all get in the car. I count heads in the rear-view mirror. One missing. CC. We are always waiting for CC. Without exception he makes us wait every.single.time.

Everybody In? Yes.
Ready to Go? Yes
Got everything? Yes
We turn out of our street and CC says “I need to wee.”
We turn out of our estate and Deflector says “I’m starving, when can we eat?”
We drive out of our suburb and Actor asks “Are we nearly there?”
We enter the Freeway and Princess squeals “I forgot my teddy…and my book!”

It doesn’t take long for 4 caged energetic kids to get bored. With the absence of movement, eating or technology, they very quickly descend into chaos.
At first we try to distract them,
“Look over there”
“Isn’t the scenery lovely?”
“See if you can spot any kangaroos”
“Count the cows”

There is no such thing as quiet reflection. No peaceful awareness of our beautiful country. Not so much as one second of quiet calm. As much as my husband and I want to look out the window at the magnificent snow capped mountains, or pretty fern gullies in absolute blissful mind numbing silence, we know there is no hope.
We try to get them to appreciate the world around them.
They just want to torture each other.  

Cars can, and do, transform reasonably good kids into feral little monsters.

‘Mum! He’s touching me!’
‘Don’t look at me’
‘That’s my window, look out your own window.’
‘Give it back!’
‘Stay on your side’
They tease, they spar, they taunt, they bicker, the gloat, the moan, they persecute each other.

Sigh.
We alternate the arguments with games. We play eye spy, we play car cricket, we sing until I can’t stand it anymore.
I wish for a magic soundproof partition between the front and the rear of our people mover, ala` limousine style.  
I count to ten. I try to breathe. I am Zen. I am ZEN Goddamn it!
And then all of a sudden, three quarters of the way in, our road trip turns from ‘The Journey Is The Destination’ to ‘Destination Home. Right Now. I cannot stand it. Everyone Shut Up’.
 Yes, I tell my kids to Shut Up. Let the judgement commence.

Why then, when it seems no-one is having any fun, do we insist on doing this to ourselves over and over again? Why do we continue to cage our children in the car for 7 hours in an attempt at family connectedness?

Memories.

There are gems amongst the rubble.
No, really.

When Actor does something silly and we all dissolve into breath stealing laughter.

When we stop for lunch and CC takes Princess’ hand as they walk and pick wildflowers.

The looks on their little faces when they proudly present me with those flowers.

When Princess sings the wrong lyrics. “The ants are my friends; they’re blowing in the wind. The ants they are blowing in the wind”

When Deflector puts his arms around my neck and says ‘Thanks for the drive Mum; and the sandwiches, that was awesome.”

And this:

Before long these gems are the only parts of the trip you remember. Which I am certain, is the reason why we all have such fond memories of our trip across the Nullarbor. It doesn’t matter that Mummy and Daddy get to the end of the day wanting to kill someone, because road trips are like childbirth. They are long, arduous and incredibly painful, but in the end we only remember the good.

And that’s just how I like it.

Halloween. Are We In Or Are We Out?

When I was a kid Halloween was on the same list as Thanksgiving and Valentines Day; something that America celebrated and nothing more. Oh, we might have been lucky enough to watch a 7:30 Scooby Doo Halloween Special, but really it just was not on our radar.
I don’t recall when the Valentine’s Day shift occurred; I was probably too young to care. Still despite the fact that we are not as ‘into’ it as our USA cousins, there’s no denying that Valentine’s Day has become more and more a part of our culture. Most people buy a card and show a little appreciation to their significant other on this day. There’s still the odd guy who says ‘I refuse to support a celebration created by Hallmark.” Or “I Love my wife everyday of the year I do not need to buy flowers on the 14^th of Feb”
I just think Valentine’s Day is a good excuse to get a babysitter and go to a nice restaurant. Why would any rational person want to fight that?

But Halloween; that’s a different story.
I have noticed the Halloween merchandise creeping into the stores for the last 4 or 5 years. In that time I have always been sure to have a bowl of lollies on hand ‘just in case’ (no-one wants to be the scrooge of the neighbourhood) and usually we might be lucky to see half a dozen kids. Last year was the first time we allowed our kids to get involved, and I’d say that was probably true for most of the neighbourhood. Last year was also the first year we actually ran out of lollies (I’m resisting the urge to write ‘candy.’ Given that this, to me, is an American custom it stands to reason that I feel the desire to use American terminology. I will fight the urge for no other reason than it drives me crazy when my kids use American terms. Possibly because I feel guilty that they watch enough television for it to be an influence)

There is no denying that the celebration is embraced a little more with every passing year.

Woolworths media relations manager Benedict Brook says sales of special carving pumpkins rose 300 per cent from 2009 to 2010 as Australians embrace the Halloween tradition.
                – Strewth – Halloween’s an Aussie tradition
           

I would venture to guess that the majority of the population have no idea what the history behind the celebration is. Kids just think it’s a quest for free lollies. Free for them of course. They don’t consider that Mum paid $50 for their costume in order for them to extract $5 worth of sticky awfulness from the neighbours.
What bothers me most about Halloween in Australia is the uncertainty. Some of the population embrace it, most do not. Australians don’t really know how to deal with Halloween. It’s like we’re trying to do something that’s just not ‘us’. We’re not sure if we should or we shouldn’t, so we end up with a bit of a half arsed effort.

I don’t particularly mind either way, but we Aussies need to decide if we’re in or we’re out.

This year I decided we’re out. It’s a school night, we have tennis and footy and homework to think about. In addition, I simply don’t want to celebrate something that no-one really understands, in a half arsed fashion. When I told the kids there would be no trick or treating this year they were a little upset. That is until I said I would buy them each some lollies. ‘Phew’ they exclaimed in relief. I need no further proof that it really is only the lollies they care about and nothing more. SO, instead of dropping $200 on costumes that will be worn for all of 45 minutes, I’m going to Woolworths to buy them each a bag of lollies. Lollies that haven’t been mauled by half of the neighbourhoods children, and guess what?… there’s a Scooby Doo Special on the Cartoon Network…

It’s Party Time

I am preparing for Captain Clumsy’s Birthday Party today. A sleepover to which five 8 year old boys are invited.   
Kid’s birthday parties are really not all that bad. There’s a bit of preparation and organisation. There are a couple of hours of chaos followed by a little bit of mess to tidy up. No big deal right?

Wrong.

Your child’s happiness hinges on your ability to throw the Party Of The Year.

So, a timeline.

T – 14 days.
You spend hours online searching for the perfect invitation. It has to convey just the right amount of enthusiasm and information. It must match the theme. The colour has to be just right and the wording has to be perfect. If it isn’t, you spend two hours editing the thing in a ‘paint’ document to make it so. * We do this despite the fact that we know full well parents will put the date in their calendar and toss the invite into the bin.

You carefully plan a menu. You Google things like ‘Dr Seuss Menu’ and make a shopping list of ingredients for ‘Green Eggs and Ham’ and ‘Pink Ink Yink Drink.’

T- 7 days
You plan games and entertainment and slave for hours finding ways to make it all so cleverly tie into the theme. (Pin the Hat on the Cat anyone?) If you have to pull out your ‘Martha Steward Skills’ and make it yourself, you do.

T- 3 days
You shop for ingredients, there’s always one thing (fondant) that requires a 45 minute drive because every single shop close to home is sold out. We cannot possible conceive of not having fondant. Regular butter icing just will not do.

T – 2 days
You spend an hour calling the 90% of mothers who do not RSVP.

You make thoughtful little theme inspired lolly bags, making sure each bag is exactly the same thus avoiding arguments.

You (or in my case my awesome sister) spend 6 hours making the most beautiful birthday cake ever made.

T – 1 day
You spend 18 hours in the kitchen delicately and precisely preparing themed food.

You run out to the shops 4 times to pick up the ingredients you forgot. Or if you’re me you run out the shops 4 times to pick up the ingredients for the cupcakes you burned. 4 times.  

T – 6 hours
You write a blog post. (and from here on out I am pre-empting. I feel qualified to do that because I have had precisely 33 birthdays to cater to in my parenting career)

You clean the house from top to bottom. Can’t have the other mums looking at dust now can we.

T – 3 hours
You start to think that this time; it might not be so bad. (pfft)

T – 1 hour
Yes everything is under control….Oh crap you forgot to buy colour co-ordinated napkins. Off to the shops again.

T- 0 Party Time.

No matter how prepared you are, no matter how much forethought or consideration or preparation you have put into your child’s party, there will always be something. Hundreds of things can go awry, and usually at least a couple of them do.

-Friends inevitably begin to arrive 25 minutes early when you are in the shower so you end up greeting guests with a towel on your head.

-One kid shows up with his 5 younger siblings “You don’t mind, do you?” says his Mum

-The games that you painstakingly prepared are all but ignored. ‘That’s boring’, ‘I don’t want to do that’, ‘that’s for babies’ – instead all 12 kids tear around your house chasing the cat.

-When you convince them to sit still long enough for pass the parcel it’s all a little underwhelming. Despite the fact that you rig the game so that everybody wins, no-one is happy. Some kids cry, some kids want what he’s got, some just toss the parcel not even trying to hide their disdain.

-The food that took a whole day to plan, a whole day to buy and a whole day to prepare is inhaled in exactly 33 seconds. No one cares that the eggs are green and the lemonade is pink.

-The carrot and celery sticks that you put out as a show of commitment to health will sit optimistically on the table for the duration of the party.

-The colour co-ordinated napkins will be ignored. The kids will use their sleeves or the walls.

-Someone will get hurt and want to go home.

-Someone will try to get you to bend their parents’ rules “I won’t tell my Mum I promise!”

-The Birthday child will,at some stage of the party, be overwhelmed  and go hide for a while.

-The birthday cake will hardly be noticed. The kids just see cake, and they just want to eat it. They don’t care that it has fondant instead of butter icing, they don’t care that it is in the shape of a book and they don’t care to read the clever Dr Seuss quote that it features.

-Whilst opening presents the birthday child will either toss something unimpressive to the side or announce “Hey  now I have two”

-When the parents come to collect their kids they will always say “I hope he was good for you?” and of course, even if he was the most deplorable little monster alive you must reply “Oh he’s an angel, we hardly knew he was here, he is welcome any time”

-The birthday child can hardly muster the manners to say Goodbye and Thank you for coming. The guests only say Goodbye and Thankyou in exchange for their lolly bags.

-When the house is empty you get to clean cake out of the carpet, sticky lemonade of the floor, and green eggs off the roof.

-You find the cat hiding in your underwear drawer.

-You find the vase in the bathroom smashed into a million pieces.

-You find at least 17 items of lost property, among them a shoe. Someone has gone home wearing one shoe. (Yes, this has happened!)

-You fall in a heap and vow never ever ever to do it ever again. Next time, you say, we will go to the indoor play centre.

 

 

 Disclaimer – I should probably mention that in the end I did not make ‘Green Eggs and Ham’ and ‘Pink Ink Yink Drink.’ I have no excuse, I just couldn’t be bothered.  

*I did this, hated the result and decided to use store bought invites instead.

Just Say No!

I am just a little bit tired of having the same argument with my children day in and day out.
I say these words at least once a day, everyday, to at least one of my children.

No, I am not buying Coco Pops. Chocolate is not a breakfast food.

Milo is NOT a ‘health drink’. I do not care what the ads say. The TV is lying to you.

I’m sorry, but Nutrigrain will not make you an ironman. Hard work, protein and vegetables might make you an iron man if you exercise constantly for the next 15 years. (Actors response when I said no to Nutrigrain was “Fine then. If I grow up with no muscles then it’ll be your fault”)

No, Ribena is not the ‘healthy cordial’ there is no such thing as healthy cordial.

Mars bars DO NOT help you ‘work rest and play’

Give me strength.

Ads like this one give me the irrits.

And this one:

 

How the hell do we as caring, well intentioned, parents fight against this blatantly ridiculous advertising?

The short answer is…..we don’t.

Sure we can all get in a huff about how advertising should not be aimed at children. We can get ourselves all a tither about the use of kid’s animation characters to promote fast food. We can lobby to ban TV advertising during children’s programs.
Or we can remember one thing…

It’s not the kids that are doing the weekly grocery shop.
It’s not the kids pulling into the Maccas drive thru.

This might be true, however I know as well as any other parent, that kids do.not.stop.
They pester and pester and pester their parents in the vain hope that today is the day. Today might just be the day that they pester us into submission.
There is actually an industry coined term for this kind of parental torture. It’s called ‘pester power’

In marketing to children, advertisers have encouraged the phenomenon of what has been labelled pester power. This has been defined as the constant demand for parents to purchase items, be they clothes, toys, gadgets or various other goods. Pestering can consist of ‘persistence nagging’, that is, pleas for parents to purchase an item which are repeated consistently. This type of pestering is not as effective with parents as ‘importance nagging’. Importance nagging represents a more sophisticated means by which children claim that something is necessary for their educational or sporting progress, or for their general well being. Importance nagging takes advantage of parents’ desire to provide the best for their children, and plays on any guilt they may feel about not spending enough quality time with their children.
Marketing Obesity? Junkfood, advertising and kids.
Research Paper no. 9 2010–11
Dr Rhonda Jolly
12 January 2011

Importance nagging is precisely what the Actor was doing when he claimed that if I did not buy Nutrigrain he would grow up without muscles. Deflector also told me last week that if I did not allow him to take Twisties in his lunchbox his friends would not like him anymore.
Clearly my children need to work on their Importance Nagging skills.

In our house, my children know that I chose what goes into our shopping trolley, and subsequently into their mouths. Does that stop them from trying? No, of course not. They hold out hope that one day I might take leave of my senses and give-in to a box of Fruit Loops. Hasn’t happened yet though. It’s called parental responsibility and it’s spelt like this:

N. O.

In addition, I actually like the fact that my children are witness to these marketing ploys. It gives me the opportunity to teach them about advertising. I do not want to shield them from the evils of media, and then at the age of 18 thrust them into the world as hopelessly naïve and impressionable young adults, falling for every gimmicky promise the media can throw at them. Now they know that advertisers will tell you lies to sell their product.

Of course childhood isn’t childhood without a few treats. And trust me; my kids do get their fair share of treats. They occasionally eat McDonalds. They do eat cake and ice-cream and go out for milkshakes. (I absolutely unequivocally draw the line at sugary cereals)
I guess the difference between what I do allow and what I do not allow is in the application. I will not incorporate sugary high fat foods into our daily diet as substitutes for good fresh food. I will not allow Nutella as a breakfast food but I might consider it as an ingredient in homemade chocolate cake. I will not buy Milo as a pantry staple in the belief that it provides ‘good energy’ but I will buy it when we go camping as a fire side treat. The difference is that we are not pretending, or believing, that these things are a healthy option. We know that chocolate is not a healthy choice; putting it on toast with banana and calling it breakfast does not make it so.         

Advertising will only affect your children if you let it. It’s not the advertising that makes kids fat, it’s a lack of adequate parental control that makes kids fat.

So.  I’m coining a new term for parental rebuttal to Pester Power.
It’s called ‘Just Say No Power’
N. O.
Say No, and keep saying No. Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over…