They drive a white van

I had this post scheduled to go up tonight, but I thought I'd post it earlier because there's lots going on over at Mama Mia about Stranger Danger today. I didn't edit the post, just hit 'publish' early. It may or may not be relevant to the discussion at MM.

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It always amuses me when Maxi-Taxi begins a sentence with "I can't go to sleep because..." What's he cooking up now? I think to myself. This better be good. And invariably it is.

The other night he told me that he couldn't go to sleep because he needed to run around the house ('do laps'). I said, "It's sleep time now, Max. Not time for laps." He said, "But how am I supposed to sleep in all this energy?"

The kid has a point.

Another night he couldn't sleep because his heart was too soggy. "I'm scared and when you won't sit with me, my heart gets soggy," he said. I sat with him. I'm weak like that.

He's a sensitive soul, so you have to tread carefully when issues of monsters, robbers, spiders, the moon and anything else likely to go bump in the night come up. One false move and it's matchsticks for the rest of the night. Which is why I found myself on eggshells when the issue of Stranger Danger was raised.

"They come and get you in a white van," he said. "They snatch you off the side of the road when you're waiting to cross at the lights. Even when you're good, they get you."

What are they telling them at that school? I wondered, crunching away on my eggshells. We've always had a relaxed approach to 'Strangers'. You can talk to anyone you like as long as Mum or Dad or another grown-up you know is with you. We didn't want our children growing up thinking it's okay to be unfriendly or, worse, fearful, just because they don't know someone. It's not okay to live your life in fear that a random tragedy is going to happen to you. Strangers aren't to be feared at our place, rather they often offer a lovely exchange in the middle of an otherwise frenetic day.

Of course, when you're by yourself, you aren't allowed to even notice them.

I raised the white van kidnappers at the P + C Meeting the next night. "What are you telling the kids about kidnappers in white vans?" I asked.

Mirthful looks were exchanged between teachers. "It's always a white van," one said in amazement. "We give them a thoughtful, educative chat about coming to the front office if they are not collected on time after school, they discuss it amongst themselves and the next thing you know the story about the stranger in the white van is doing the rounds again. That white van has been circling the school for decades."

Hmmm... needless to say, that bit of schoolyard folklore meant that Maxi-Taxi couldn't sleep and was threatening to boycott school the next day. I had to turn him around quicksmart by asking him why anyone would want to take a kid? Especially one that doesn't sleep, doesn't listen and doesn't eat their vegies?  He couldn't come up with a single reason.

So, the next day he goes to school and all was well. When I saw him that evening his eyes were wide and he was leaping out of himself with excitement. "Mum, Mum! MUM! A Stranger approached me today."

"Really, an actual Stranger? Where were you? What did they say?"

"I was in the playground and a lady came up and asked me where the Mandarin classes were held," he said breathlessly.

"And what did you say to her?"

"Well... I said to her 'Do you drive a white van?' and she said 'no', so I told her they were in the library."

Oh, Maxi.

How do you approach 'the Stranger thing' with your children?

Do you think they listen?

[Image via weheartit - yes, I know it's a red van and this post is about a white van, but I couldn't find a pic of a white van that didn't look like... well, a pic of a white van. It's that simple.]

They didn't want my Pops

My sister and I have always been suckers for hidden pathos. I've never properly investigated just what makes a moment heartbreaking, but I think it mostly has to do with someone going to a lot of trouble and it just not working out for them. The unacknowledged care is what is so heart wrenching.

The elderly fellow sitting alone on a park bench holding a little sack of seeds he's brought from home but the ducks are off scoffing some kid's Wonder White.

The market stall owner who has lovingly handmade every single item in her shop but has sold almost nothing at the end of a busy day.

Candlelit tables and apron-smocked waiters in an empty restaurant at dinner time.

Every time the tears well up a little. All that effort and no one seems to notice or care.

I had my own mini-moment today. I was asked to make some things for the school fete cake stall and instead of just making a carrot cake / caramel slice / lamos combo, I had to go to that extra bit of trouble, didn't I? I spent ages making chocolate dipped cake pops with little sticks and ribbons. And chocolate wholegrain biscotti lovingly wrapped up with string like a gift.

Well, when I left only one of each had been sold. It was so stressful watching them sit there while boring old glad-wrapped fruit loafs got snapped up smartly. Nobody seemed to want my little creations. I know it's probably because they were all thinking 'what the hell is a cake pop?*', but still.

Still.

I wish I'd just made the cupcakes.

* Not you too? You can find out what a cake pop is here. I think I am an early Aussie adopter of this Bakarella phenomenon and they're just not taking off here in the way I expected...

Feted, not jarred

I'm nuts about school fetes. The cake stalls, the white elephant, the dinky games involving hacky sacks and tin cans. The sheer old-school at school fun of it all.

I've been busy getting creative with jars and stuff to make jars for the 'Jarbola'. I didn't even know what a Jarbola was until Cappers carefully explained that it was when you get a jar of pasta sauce and you eat the sauce and then you put stuff in it but you have to clean it first and then you get a ticket on it and the winner of that ticket gets that jar.

Oh, like a bottle raffle. With clean jars. I get that.

The Badoo and I created six jarbolas to take in tomorrow. A jar of soliders; a jar of glow-in-the-dark dinosaurs; a jar of hair thingies (all pink, this is the Badoo in charge after all!); a jar of sherberts (pink); a jar of mini-chuppa chups (mostly the black ones because we don't really like the black ones around here); and a jar of pretty jewellery (pink, pink, all pink). We made little tags to add a bit of school fair festivity.

If I could fill my fantasy Jarbola jar, I would fill it with Benefit Benetint in rose, Eve Lom Cleanser, Creme de la Mer and Moroccon Oil.

What would you put in your fantasy Jarbola jar?
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I'm linking up to Our Creative Spaces this week. I know filling jars with stuff isn't exactly creative,
but I'll take what I can get!

School Run: Half-Marathon

It's Wednesday afternoon and I'm on the tools.

School Pick-up.

Pram wheels whizzing in front, six kids trailing behind; a slow caravan of feet-dragging, backpack-heaving, high-spirited blue. And a Euphonium.

Keep up Slowest Boy in the World, don't make me come back there.

No we can't play in the playground, Flygirl's got to get to art class.

Hold onto the pram, Cappers, we're crossing in a minute. Yes, you do need to hold onto the pram. No, you're not old enough to cross by yourself even if I watch you very carefully and you look right and left and left again. And, by the way, it's left then right then left again - that's why you can't cross the road by yourself.

No you can't come out of the pram, Badoo. You wanted the pram, you got the pram, I hate the pram, I'm not pushing an empty pram. And a Euphonium.

Okay, I'll carry your heavy bag, Sambochips. Load it on top of the pram. Really, Cappers? I have to carry yours too? And Max - okay, just put all the bags onto the pram and I'll put these two on my back and, okay, Badoo, you can get out of the pram now. Please, Badoo, you wanted to get out and now I need you to... oh, forget it. Maxi, just balance yours on top of the Euphonium. Just call me 'pack horse', no problems.

Well, honey, a pack horse is usually a donkey or mule or, oh, just forget it. Forget I said anything.

Maxi, leave the birds alone, we're about to cross.

Slowest Boy in the World, leave the birds alone, we're about to cross.

No, really, Cappers, don't worry about what a mule is. Really. Don't. Worry.

We cross. Six kids, six backpacks, a pram, a sagging mumma. And a Euphonium.

Okay, everyone into the car. Seat belts on. There you go, Badoo. Forgodsakes, bend, Badoo, BEND. Yes, you have to wear a seat belt. Yes, you have to wear a seat belt. Yes, you have to wear a seat belt. Just put the seat belt on, Badoo.

Everyone else got their seat belts on? Seat belts? Put your seat belts on. Seat belts! Cappers? Flygirl? Sambochips? Maxi? Slowest Boy in the World? Oh come on, SBITW.  Maxi, help the kid out would ya?

I'll explain what a mule is later, Cappers. Don't worry about it right now. Just forget about it. You can, you  really, really can.

Right. Six bags into the boot. Pram into the boot. And a Euphonium.

FuckmedeadthisbloodyEuphoniumhowthehelldoIgetthisintothecar. @#%$^ beep &$%* ^&%$$# beep beep #$%!$@!

Right.

Okay.

We're in. I can drive with half a Euphonium on my lap, no problem. What do you mean you're hungry and thirsty? You're not the ones who've just lugged six kids, a pram, six backpacks and a freakin' Euphonium up the goddamn hill. Here, share this mouthful of water amongst yourselves and here's six crumbs left over from this morning's toast. Enjoy.

And, seriously, Flygirl. Seriously. What in god's name is wrong with the flute?

What's 'pick-up' like for you?

Do you love it as much as I do?

Do you hang around the gate and chat to the other mums? 

Do you get there early or are you always running late?

What's your baggage allowance like?

[Image by Derek R Hampshire]

You've come a long way, Bunsen

Today is Robert Bunsen's 200th Birthday.

He is the chemist who invented the bunsen burner which lead to the invention of the Bialetti stove-top coffee maker, so as far as LOML’s concerned he is the best inventor ever.

But that’s not why I noticed his birthday.

We all have a Mean Girls story from our school days. Mine happens to be a Mean Boys story, but we all know how these things play out. Group of kids makes life a misery for single kid for reasons known and unknown to themselves only.

I guess being nicknamed Bunsen and having a large group of boys call out ‘heeeeey BUUUNNNSEEEN’ every single time you walked past them isn’t the end of the world. I’ll take that any day of the week over so much of the teenage warfare a lot of kids endure.

But still.

Ground-opening humiliation for a teenager desperately wanting to fit in, even if the boys only came up to my armpit and, like all teenage boys, had absolutely nothing to offer. On and on and on it went. I went from laughing it off with a sweep of my offensive tresses, to attempting to ignore it, to only ever walking in the centre of a gang of girls, to going miles out of my way to avoid them altogether.

The burden of the peer group.

You know, once those boys stopped being a peer group, many turned out to be very nice indeed. I was oddly the only girl invited to every single one of those boys’ 21st birthday parties. I went along to a couple. To them it was ‘hey old mate!’ and I realised that as BUUUUNNNSSEEEEEN I was always a part of their gang; their quirky little mate who took teasing on the chin. They were boys and that’s just what boys do. Shudder.

The mystery of the peer group.

That’s what Robert Bunsen means to me. Happy birthday, clever man.

Were you picked on as a child? Do you think that Bunsen was bullied? What's the line between teasing and bullying? Is there one?

[Image by giac1061]

It’s a ratio thing

I am not a mathematically minded person by any stretch of the imagination.

That is such an understatement that I can hardly type I am laughing so hard. What I meant to say is that my whole life I have loathed Maths with the passion of a thousand burning suns… or is it 1001? I’m not certain because there is a number involved.

Once I was introduced to excel in the early nineties, this numbers business picked up considerably. Excel was The Incredible Hulk blasting straight through my titanic Maths-Block. It seems that working out how to get something else to work out Maths seemed infinitely easier than doing the Maths myself. I never looked back, to the extent that for a brief, bizarre moment in my life, I actually worked in Trade Finance in London doing Bulgarian and Nigerian oil deals. Why yes, yes I did.

I think all along I was actually a much more logical thinker than I ever gave myself credit for. You see, I’ve been a slave to ratios my whole life.

Food requires a good ratio of X to Y to taste right. If the ratio of sauce to pasta isn’t exactly right, for example, eating pleasure is considerably diminished. Ratios become critical when you’re dealing with strong flavours like onions, chilli, honey or garlic. Get the balance out of whack and the whole dish needs rescuing.

In art and design, the whole success of a work depends on ratios. The ratio of X colour to Y. Between light and shade. Negative and positive space. And on and on.

I’m rabbiting on about all of this because lately I’ve been investigating why I ever had a Maths-Block in the first place. I think it’s important for me to know because I am in danger of thoughts such as ‘Cappers is a creative person’ and ‘Maybe Maxi-Taxi will be a numbers guy?’. There’s those pesky labels again!

I think I learned at an early age that you were either a Maths person or a Creative person and I wanted to be the latter. Nowadays, I don’t think it has to be an ‘either / or’ thing (more on the ‘Golden Ratio’ in a future post). I think you can be both and I’m doing everything I can to find the parallels between the two. I think if I can find out more about that, I can help my children to learn the ‘other’ way of thinking with a lot more ease than I managed at school.

Are you a ‘Creative’ person or a ‘Maths’ person? Do you think you can be both?

Did you also struggle with a particular subject at school?

[Image via weheartit - please let me know if this image is yours so I can correctly attribute it]

Cappers Kazoo will not brush her hair

Do you know Ella Kazoo? She of the untamed tresses and testing 'tude? Well, that's my Cappers right there. Red hair and everything.

The only way I can get the dreaded School Hair done is to give her the choice of either the brush or the scissors. Her main ambition in life is to grow her hair down to her feet (?) so she chooses the brush every time. And then ouches and yelps and moans and squeals her way through the School Hairdo until it's done. Honestly, child, can't you just suck it up and get the job done stoically?

With The Badoo's hair even curlier and more unkempt, I see years and years and years of hair wrangling ahead of me and I just sigh. It feels like torture for both me and the child, yet... I kinda like her beautiful, thick long hair, even when it's unruly and Kazoo-like. I can't bring myself to choose the scissors either.

And so we endure.

Do you hair wrangle? Does it drive you bonkers too?

This week I'm grateful for... confidence

Three long years of swimming lessons.

By December 2010 he was still clinging to the steps, floaties on, bubble on; fearful, reluctant, stubborn, his hair dry. By January 2011 he is leaping unaided into the deep end to fetch rings at the bottom of the pool. Amazing stuff.

One thing changed: he was visited by our dear friend Confidence.

I think I can do it.

I know I can do it.

I'm going to do it.

This time I'm really going to do it.

Look, Mum! I'm doing it! I'm really doing it!

So, this week, I'm grateful for...

1. Confidence - thank you for showing my boy that he can conquer his fears and learn new loves.

2. My children's school - our second year in a row that you have taken a anxious Kinder child gently by the hand and embraced them with the joy of school life. You are a wonderful bunch of teachers, staff and families and we are lucky to have you.

3. Zooper Doopers - without you I would have exploded in the heat.

So, what's making you smile today? Grab my I'm grateful for... button from my sidebar if you like, add your I'm Grateful For post below and please add a link back to me in your post. Then pop over to visit other bloggers who are spreading a little sunshine. Happy day to you!

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P.S. Michelle from Mummy From the Heart runs a 'Reasons to be Cheerful' linky on Fridays. 

It's like the British version of 'I'm grateful for...' (and 'cheerful' seems such a very British word all of a sudden, doesn't it?). Pop over and link up to say hi.*

* Phew. Managed to nicely resist the urge to write 'g'day' there. I'm inflicted with a terrible urge to say 'g'day' whenever I encounter foreigners. It is not an expression I would ever dream of using in my day to day life. Embarrassing.

First day

That every kid in the class thing

Maxi Taxi came home from school the other day munching on a gingerbread man and holding a crumpled card in his hand. "Merry Christmas, Max. Love Elliot".

Oh no, I thought. They're doing that 'every kid in the class' thing. I dreaded that thing. Now here it is and it's only Kindergarten.

Elliot's mum has twins Maxi's age and an older boy. She's managed to do the every-kid-in-the-class Christmas thing with three classes to cater for. Three.

Of course, always one to rise to a challenge, I dug out some old seed packets, a heart hole punch and a weird little banner punch that I bought long ago and never remembered why. Last year's batch of received Chrissy cards were duly punched through to make some snazzy decorations. Then I borrowed Paola Zakimi's little birdie gift tags which were a freebie from the awesome magazine Gifted. I had already used her image to make my Christmas cards (all sixty seven of them posted in the red box at the end of our street today... phew!).  I popped a whizz fizz into each seed packet, punched a few holes, strung on the gift tag and viola! I know I'm supposed to painstakingly cut out each swing tag but, you know, these kids are six years old. Surely, the details are less important when you're six? Surely!

I read Life in a Pink Fibro's Chrissy card post last week and it went nuts. What is it about the giving and receiving of Christmas cards that sends us into a frenzy? 

* I vow that next year I am going to learn my way around a camera!!

Things I learned this week including that cupcakes can bake themselves

Happy Friyay! Another week, another... week. I overnighted in Adelaide on Sunday night for a shoot on Monday, collapsed exhausted on Tuesday following major work announcements, spent Wednesday night laughing at a home BBQ with my soon-to-be-ex colleagues and spent Thursday night baking into the wee small hours. Hello working Mum. Here's what I learned along the way...

1. When asked to bake something for a school event, you will be up until waaaaaay past your bedtime (8pm) (not really) (8.30pm) putting  together a sweet batch of 24 cupcakes with smiley faces only to find that most people just bring in store-bought stuff on a paper plate. Sigh.

2. People harshly judge mothers who travel for business.

3. There is this really fantastic site called Creative Muslims that brings together Muslim artists, graphic designers, photographers, etc. What I love about it is that it's been a great way for me to get to know a completely different (and, for whatever reason, controversial) culture and religion and appreciate the way that religion works in a lifestyle quite similar to my own. Finding a common platform to start is a great way to appreciate another culture.

4.  Blog Years: For every minute you spend in the Blogosphere, 25 minutes will have elapsed back on Planet Earth.

5. Drugwars is still around and is just as addictive as ever. Have you ever played it? I spent hours at work in the UK with my trade finance colleagues* lost in drug running. Play if you dare - you might not come back out again for many, many months.

Did you learn anything new to share this week? What do you think of store-bought cupcakes, mums who desert their young families to go away on business, Muslims, Blog Years or drug running...?

* Do remind me to tell you about the time I landed a job in international trade finance while temping as a secretary in London.

PS - Head to Lori's for showcase your amazing blog on Flog Yo Blog Friday...

[Image (and cupcakes - mine looked nothing like this good!) by hello naomi]

Just me and the P&C

A while back I wrote a post taking the piss out of people who join P&C committee. Six months later... oh my god, it's me.

I'm the PR and Marketing rep for the school. Despite the fact that I have an aversion to OPC (Other People's Children) and  OCP (Other Children's Parents), I signed up because (a) every time someone learns I'm in advertising they moan to me non-stop about how there's no PR/M rep for the school and that so-and-so's school up the road has a PR/M person and their kids get in the paper all the time.

Let's pause at (a), shall we?

School kids in the local newspaper. If it's not your kid are you not simply wondering why this random kid is in the newspaper? Do I care that Little Beth was awarded first prize in the Kindergarten public speaking competition after her ground-breaking one minute speech on Why I Like My Friend? No, I can't even fake it, I do not*.

(b) I'm sick of those smug little knowing glances people share when a working parent can't volunteer for something due to work commitments. Well, knowing-glance-givers, now one of those inconvenient working parents is on your stupid committee so... there.

(c) This year I'm class mum, I do reading a few times a term, I volunteer for the tuckshop, I'm supervising at the school disco, I'm baking cupcakes for the Principal's Assembly, I'm decorating gardens for the Kinder Lunch... and to be absolutely honest next year I plan to do all my PR/M duties via email.

and

(d) The P&C president begged.

So, I'm in. Or out.... depending on how many times I get the little mugs onto page 3 of the local rag, I assume!

Do you volunteer at your child's school? What kinds of things do you do? Do you secretly resent the parents who don't do a damn** thing?

* This is not true. I care, I really care. I was the only parent-of-a-non-finalist*** to show up in the audience at the finals of Kindergarten Public Speaking competition where Beth's speech about'Why I Like My Friend' left me holding back the tears and screaming 'bravo, bravo!' louder than her mum.


** Or openly resent. Either's fine.

*** Yes, you do need to ask: why was Maxabella the only parent of a non-finalist in attendance? Five / six year olds making speeches? I wouldn't have missed this gorgeous little event for love nor money. For shame, fellow non-finalist-parents. You should have been there to support the finalists and show your own child that even if they choose to talk non-stop about puffer fish when they're meant to be talking about friends during their own speech, Mum comes along to support your class anyway. 

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This Saturday I'm grateful for... MILs

Here in Maxabellaland, Saturday is traditionally a sport, shop, sort the clothes, sweep the floors, strangle the Tsunamis (insert other 's' words here - no pun intended) kinda day. But it's nice to pause to appreciate the things in your life that are positive and affirming, whatever they may be. I thought it might be nice for us all to do a Saturday Grateful post and link up for lovely bloggy visits.


This Saturday I'm grateful for...

1. Maria's cannelloni. One of the great benefits of being married to an Italian is his mama's home cooking. LOML's mama makes the best ricotta and spinach canelloni and guess who's going there for dinner tonight?

2. My drip irrigation system. I am watering the garden right now. Look at me watering.

3. Tuckshops. There is a place on earth where you can still buy something for 20c.

What's making you smile today? Sign up to the linky and enjoy visiting other grateful bloggers today.

[Image via weheartit, is, of course, scrummy, loveable gelato which sums up my Italian MIL to a t.]

The August Chronicles: What's on your fridge?

Edition 3 and I'm getting more and more into the Fridge Chronicles. Not enough to be 'styling' the fridge (although, I know me so well, it will come!) but enough to get excited when fridge time rolls around each month. Yes, that makes me a total loser, but I'm okay with that. This month I was thoughtful enough to remove the chocolate stains around the door handle that have featured in the past two editions.

LOML's 'mistress', Roger is finally getting married! The wedding is in October and already I'm having 'what will I wear' crisis moments. Needless to say, a wedding is a social calender highlight these days...

Maxi-Taxi is insisting that he joins Brightsparks, an actor /singer /dancer /waiter class on Fridays after school.  As much as I can't imagine my shy, retiring boy under the bright lights, I'm all for it.  The fact that the teacher looks like a 15 year old emo on the verge of a nervous breakdown is a little disconcerting, but Term 4 we're going for it.

My neighbour Susan is insisting that we go and see this play in September. She's in her 70s, Austrian and let me tell you, when Susan insists something will happen, it will happen. A review is forthcoming.

I've seen the '4P' parenting course advertised here and there. The counsellor at the school is conveniently running one in September and I'll be attending. Have you done one of these or any other parenting course? What did you think?

Terrible photo - sorry about that. But this little magnet has been on the fridge since Maxi-Taxi was about 3 months old. It says "It had seemed like such a good idea 12 months ago."

Imagine me leaping with joy when Maxi-Taxi informed me that he'd 'won' something at the sports carnival. Ah, another 'participation' certificate. Well done, my boy, well done.

This is LOML's list of his favourite 'mama made' Italiano meals. It's a work in progress.  A couple of weeks ago he suddenly started stressing that her recipes may one day be 'lost with her' and so began the list. Forget that she's only in her mid-sixties, fit as a fiddle and from a line of Italian peasant stock who believe dying in your mid-nineties is dying in your prime. This is too important to risk.  I insist on being present when he has 'the conversation' with her. 

So, what's on your fridge this month?

Join the linky as we chronicle the days of our lives like sands through the hourglass... Linky is open until the end of the month.

Are we women our own worst enemy?

I waxed lyrical about friendships on Monday. I went mental about the Sunday Life article (Jacinta Tynan, you are not my friend) on Tuesday. It's now Wednesday and I've just remembered an encounter the other day that has made me wonder even more about us women-folk. Sorry if my unintentional Women Supporting Women Trilogy is starting to bore you. Bear with me.

I was stumbling up the steps one Wednesday morning with The Badoo under one arm, Cappers hanging off the other, carefully shepherding Maxi-Taxi and his friend The Slowest Boy in the World into their classrooms. The Professor, a full-time career woman and mum of one of Maxi-Taxi's classmates who has barely given me a glance all year, said something she probably meant as light and funny, but I considered to be condescending. She said "look at you, drowning in children! It's why I only had the one child*, so I can go to work and be a real person sometimes."

After I finished punching her in the face 57 times, I managed to point out that actually (you arrogant bitch with the weird, flicky hairdo and boring corporate suit) I am a Real Person with an almost-full-time job who just happens to like drowning in children as well.

She was shocked beyond belief and stammered something about good work-life balance before scuttling off to do Far More Important Things. But the satisfaction I felt at being able to metaphorically pummel her senseless was very short lived. Why did I do that? I wondered. Why didn't I simply say that having lots of children to care for and spending as much time with them as I possibly can makes me a Very Real Person. The Realist kind of person there is, actually. Why did I feel the need to shrug off the SAHM tag (one she clearly thought was derogatory which I absolutely do not) in order to make my point?

I'm a bit of a SAHM in Working Mum disguise, I am. I'm not sure how this comes about, but thanks to my trusty Blackberry, I do try to manage my workload and hours so that I'm able to do a couple of drop offs and pick ups a week, a couple of canteen duties a term and a reading mum session every month. WMG also pushed me to put my hand up to be the Class Mum for Maxi-Taxi's class (apparently the very first Working Mum to take on the job). In addition, I dress super-casual for a city girl so they're probably all thinking "she couldn't possibly go to work in that outfit." But I think my biggest disguise is that I like hanging out with any kind of mum who'll have me and for a lot of Working Mums like The Professor, that just doesn't seem to be the case.

Now that I'm a Real Person with a job and all, The Professor is suddenly my new bestie**.

But the point is, I've infiltrated the SAHM camp, and I happen to know that they're a bit prejudice towards the Working Mum camp as well. They really are. I always feel just a little bit more WMG after a coffee with my SAHM lovelies. The never overtly spoken*** but implied judgement is that I'm not really raising my children or there for my children because I go out to work most days. A Real Mother stays home with the children. A Real Mother does the hard slog day in day out. A Real Mother. Ouch.

So I'm a bit torn between being a Real Person and being a Real Mother.

Truly I am. And I'm left asking: what is with the divide between "Stay at Home Mums" and "Working Mums"? I hate it. I don't feel it. I don't judge. I just think "whatever works for your family, whatever works for you" and I get on with bragging about the kids and bitching about the housework. What a wonderful world of mumming we'd cut ourselves off from if we only hung out with 'our kind'. It takes all kinds of women to be role models for our children and I hope I'm providing them with the right kind of balance. Not the "work and home" balance - but balance between knowing SAHMs and knowing WMs. You know, the important balance.

Have you noticed what I'm noticing? Do you think I'm being naive to think we should all be one happy family? How does it work for you?



* We will return to the Professor's 'one child' theory at a later date.
** Don't worry, I'm snubbing her nicely.

*** Oh, all right then, so ocassionally they just come right out and say it.

[Image by Ellen von Unwerth]

Brown paper packages, tied up with string

What did we do with Maxi-Taxi throughout the winter school holidays? Neither LOML or I could get time off work, so we prepared for lots of Holiday Care and WMG. Not so. We hadn't factored in the generosity of the Kinder Mum Brigade. Maxi-Taxi spent only 2 days out of 10 at Holiday Care, 2 with me, 1 with LOML and the rest in a variety of homes, all linked by kindness.

We made extra-special choc chip cookies (they have 3 types of choc bit plus mini-M&Ms) and took them along as a little thank you for having me.

It's amazing the difference in the way people live. One Thursday we drove up through the 'lawns' and parked in front of the 'staff quarters'. A horse wandered by. It was like walking onto the set of one of the house-porn shoots. To make matters worse, they're a really lovely family. I liked them so much before I saw their house.

The next home had a note on the front door 'I'm in my pjs, let yourselves in!' Place was a wreck. A child ate breakfast sitting on top of the table. Another child was in underpants only and promptly hid in the pantry never to be seen again. A motley dog wandered by.

No prizes for guessing which home I was more comfortable in.

Regardless of how or where or even what you live, we love you Kinder Mum Brigade. Thank you.


PS - This post is part of ♥Much Love♥'s [made it myself] week...

This Saturday I'm grateful for... smeary petroleum jelly.

Here in Maxabellaland, Saturday is traditionally a sport, shop, sort the clothes, sweep the floors, strangle the Tsunamis (insert other 's' words here - no pun intended) kinda day. But on Maxabella loves... I thought it would be grounding to make Saturday my 'grateful' day.


This Saturday I'm grateful for...

1. My colleagues. They make me laugh. We have more 'in jokes' than an episode of Desperate Housewives. We probably have more metaphorical serial killers to dodge as well.

2. Vaseline. It's such a good old fashioned staple and I don't know how anyone gets kids through cold, windy weather without it. It just smears so well and little faces shine with love and happiness (note: this could just be the Vaseline.)

3. The A4 page that accompanied Maxi-Taxi's school report and explained, mostly, what the hell was going on with all those ticks and all those boxes and all those woooords. We think he's doing okay. We think.

What are you grateful for today?

Maxabella and the Versatile Blogger Award

My lovely blogger friend Jodie at Mummy Mayhem has passed on The Versatile Blogger award to me. Cue happy dance.  Thank you, thank you, thank you!

I confess, I don't know much about the blog awards that I see here and there. Where did they come from? Who makes the rules? Why are there so many? But, as part of the The Versatile Blogger award, I'm to share 7 things about myself and direct you to 5 wonderful blogs that I love from bloggers who are new to my site.

Let's face it, we're all new to Maxabellaland and I've been enjoying so many fellow blogs that I'm thinking of starting up a chapter of Bloggers Anon. Especially as I'm such a commenter (is that a word? Commentator? Comment maker? Nevermind...)  I just can't seem to read some of the fantastic stuff out there and not share.  So I apologise that everywhere you go in blogworld, Maxabella seems to have an opinion about it.

But, I digress.

Five blogs I just love and visit every day are:

Not Waving, But Ironing (to be honest, I'm not sure NWBI has actually ever visited my blog, but I'm Number One Stalker on her site)

Life in a Pink Fibro (brilliant writing about things that make you go 'yes, yes, ah, yes') 

Pink Patent Mary-Janes (little bit of this, little bit of that, it's like having coffee with your bestie)

Woogsworld (Laugh? I almost broke out an emoticon)

And then there were four (An honest slice of life and MultipleMum has a great turn of phrase)

And seven things you never wanted to know about me but I'm going to tell you anyway are:

1. I never brush my hair. Until my girls came along, I hadn't owned a hairbrush since 1988.

2. I secretly loathe Lady Gaga but pretend to like her so my gay colleagues think I'm cool.

3. I quite liked fashion in my youth, but these days I so can't be bothered that I would love it if everyone on the planet had to wear the same uniform every single day. I feel this approach would also solve the global warming crisis, abolish child labour in the Philippines and possibly end the reign of terror in Afghanistan. I would make the uniform beige corduroy just because I enjoy the thought of smarmy fashionistas being forced to wear beige corduroy (and because couduroy is a rather funny word).

4. I am a compulsive pleaser. For example, from year seven until year twelve I made school lunches for myself and my three siblings (vegemite or pb sandwiches, cheese and an apple, thanks for asking) because I wanted to be a good mother on behalf of my actual mother (who was a great mother but apparently not a great sandwich maker).

5. I think typing BWAHAHAHA makes you look like a (possibly laughing) twit and typing 'nom nom nom' or 'noms' for food appreciation is slightly abhorrent.

6. I often lie awake at night wondering why I am lying awake at night wondering.

7. My pin number is 85921.

Thank you and good night.

This Saturday I'm grateful for... fairies.

[Image]

Saturday, what a day, grooving all week with you... oh, sorry. I was having a bit of a public Happy Days moment (go on, admit it, you have them in private all the time).

Here in Maxabellaland, Saturday is traditionally a sport, shop, sort the clothes, sweep the floors, strangle the Tsunamis (insert other 's' words here - no pun intended) kinda day. But on Maxabella loves... I thought it would be grounding to make Saturday my 'grateful' day.

See, way back in January 2010, I decided that rather than commit myself to my usual 267 new year's resolutions (there's a lot to work on here), I would commit to just one:

Be grateful everyday.

And you know what, so far 20zen is shaping up to be one of the most content, most loving, most organised, most motivating, most happy years yet. Grateful for that!

I'm also grateful when...

1. Maxi-Taxi wears his school jumper the whole day when he has a cold and there are no snot marks on the sleeves. (Starting small here, people!)

2. The mailman brings my house porn magazines all the way up to the verandah instead of folding and squashing them in the mailbox slot so hard I need the Jaws of Life to release them.

3. The fairies* fold my clothes.

What are you grateful for today?

* Could possibly have been LOML, CCTV under review.

Things I learnt this week including the fact that bus scrolls are taking over the known world

Sadly, my Fridge Chronicles did not take the blogging world by storm as intended.* But, even though they chose not to participate, many seemed to love the idea so look out for July and - EXTENDED BY POPULAR DEMAND - you can still post for June. In any case, I've learnt a lot about blogging this week, among other things...

1. Stumbleupon is a site that lets you scroll through the web on topics that interest you. It's likely to also be a great way to drive traffic to your blog if you're interested.

2. It's possible for a female, droney-voiced, rather smart redhead to become prime minister of blokey, over-excited, rather, um, cerebrally-challenged, tanned Australia. My thoughts on this are perfectly summarised in an earlier post.

3. It's estimated that dyslexia affects almost 10% of children in Australia.

4. You can't dabble in Twitter, it's an all or nothing place.

5. Kids library bags online cost over $30 (or are cheaper but so yuck)... unbelievable. Horrified, I rushed to Funky Fabrix and almost bought this lovely fabric to make my own.

6. At least 62.8%** of homes featured in Important Interior Design (IID) magazines (or 'house porn' as LOML calls them) must contain a whimsical destination bus scroll.

7. I just don't get Haiku (although Fluffy Bunnies does write some lovely ones...)

8. 'Passwords' is a really good way for Early Readers to learn their sight words. You stick words at every door in the house (hard ones at most used doors). When it's "passwords on" everyone has to say the sight word in order to get through the door. "Passwords off" means Mum gets a little break. Taking a leisurely evening stroll through the house in the same manner each night after bath is also a clever way to use the loci system for learning the words.

9. I would rather stand in line all morning than use the self-serve checkout at Woolies. It's just not right.

10. Pictory showcases the most amazing photography and the stories behind the photos. I just love it.


* Although they were not as big a bomb as that intelligent, witty, charming bastard Sir Ken Robinson.

** Please note: this statistic is made up. It means absolutely nothing and can therefore be used as a supporting fact in any argument as long as 8 glasses of wine have been consumed prior.