Thursday 19 December 2013

Blame it on the Boogie

I'm gonna state right up front that I'm a flawed human being.  I'm prideful, impatient, selfish and frequently mistaken about who won the Melbourne Cup.  But I will stand up and cop it when I'm in the wrong.  I believe in accountability and I will put my hand up and say "Yep. I was wrong there. I lived in Wrong Town on Wrong Street and lived in Wrongness.  My apologies."  I'll also fix what's wrong, if it's fixable.

For a long time I allowed myself to cop the blame for the mistakes of others.   I figured it worked something along the lines of that "turn the other cheek" saying.  But I made myself a promise at the beginning of the year that I would stop doing that, because I make enough mistakes on my own I need to be accountable for without being accountable for others.

So this year I stopped taking the blame for things I did not do.  Excuse me, buddy?  That there, that right there, that wasn't me, so you can stop looking at me like it was, kay?

So here's a list of things I did and didn't do in 2013 so we're all clear:

I did eat all the chocolate biscuits.  I hid them and I ate them all in a fit of rage-eating.  Yep that was me. Gained half a kilo and a bucket of shame, but I ate the damn biscuits.  You got none. Deal with it.

I joined a weight loss group and lost interest at week 10 of the 12 week plan. I like eating cheese (and chocolate biscuits - see above) and watching tv while laying on the couch.  I made a life decision that I will never give up cheese again.  I will try and exercise more - but that will also depend on what awesome shows HBO brings out in 2014.  I'm not gonna lie about this.

I did break up with a friend this year.  Rather than a let a person fade away insignificantly I reached out and told them I was grateful for what they had brought into my life, but our differences in where we were emotionally in our lives meant our relationship was over.  We break up with lovers - why not be respectful of this relationship and end it properly?

I did say yes to one too many things this year and consequently did a shoddy half-arsed job on a theatre program.  I'm ashamed of this.  When you volunteer it should be done with enthusiasm and pride in the job. Thank you for polishing my work, and thank you for giving me an opportunity to do the job again.  I will do it with care this time.

I did bitch about a negative person in my life to a friend earlier in the year.  I didn't talk with them or give them a chance to explain.  I just moaned about it, like a whiny baby, because it was easier than having a difficult talk with someone about their mental illness.  I should have been there to offer support.  I hope I've made up for it in the second half of the year, because I know the negativity spilling out of them was not their choice.

I did yell at my kids.  I got tired, frustrated and mad and I YELLED.  Like the really big voice that makes them cringe and me hate myself afterwards.  Sorry boys.  You know I love your dirty, smelly, loud, bizarre, funny, awesome, stuck-gaming-forever selves.

I did not publicly denigrate an ex.  That is NOT cool and I didn't do it.  I have more class than that.

I did not spread rumours about your relationship.  Sorry, you're not that interesting.

I did not fail in my parental duties because I chose to have a hobby.  Parents are allowed to enjoy their own life.  My children are happy and healthy, and they have reveled in the independence I have given them and they have learnt valuable lessons about dreams, goals and overcoming your fears by watching my example.

I did not say your partner abused you.  Two of your other friends came to me worried about you.  All I did was ask if you were okay.

I did not "put my nose in other people's business".  You brought your business into my house.  You were rude to me and disrepectful.  Since then I've been nothing but polite and friendly to you.  I'm over your fit of pique. Grow up already.

So there you go.  My list of did and did nots.  I'll cop to my own failings and my own mistakes, but I won't cop to yours.  That's the one New Year's resolution I made at the beginning of the year that I did keep.  That one about losing weight and running a half marathon, well, not so much.

Wednesday 2 October 2013

Alice in Wonderland (or Alice? Alice? Who the f*ck is Alice?)

I have a knack for attracting strange people.  Okay lets be more specific: strange men.  I'm single. I date. But the last six men I've gone out on dates with have been decidedly...weird.

Now I'd like to think of myself as a fairly non-judgemental person (unless you drive a 4WD and have never been off-road and only drive your big-ass mofo machine within a 10km radius of your home - in which case I TOTALLY judge you).  But overall, I think I'm a fairly "live and let live" kind of person.  As long your lifestyle choices don't hurt yourself or others, go in peace I say.

But I offer up these five men as "what not to do" examples for first dates in a "slightly judgy, but I hope you're all doing really well now" kind of way...

1.  YOU ARE NOT CHRISTIAN GREY.

Please don't tell me on the first date that you are millionaire who studied at Oxford and paid his way through Oxford by starring in porn films.

Yes.  I was seriously told that.  I think the guy thought by saying that he would come across as rich, smart and sexy.   It didn't work.


2.  EXCESS BAGGAGE ANYONE?

I went out with a nice man who was five years older than me.  So to be kind, lets say mid-40s.  We met for coffee and chatted about life.  The conversation flowed smoothly and I thought at the end of the date, yes I could see you again for another coffee (please note I was not planning a wedding or happily ever after).  But at the end of the night you very honestly told me that you preferred women under the age of 25 as they had less baggage, but it was very nice meeting me.

Well, at least he was honest.

3. WEE WEE WEE ALL THE WAY HOME

This guy I met online, against my better judgement, but I followed all the rules and after exchanging emails for a few weeks and discovering a very mutual love of films and a similar sense of humour we agreed to meet for a drink.  I'm not sure if you had a urinary tract infection or a cocaine sniffing problem or if you were simply nervous, but you averaged a trip to the toilet every 8.5 minutes (yes I timed you because after the fifth time I was concerned).  Our date lasted 2.5 hours and you went to the toilet around 15 times.

 Aside from that you were really rather nice, quiet and funny and nervous wee's aren't a deal breaker for me.  But you disappeared off the face of the earth after that afternoon.  I hope you got some antibiotics for the urinary tract infection.  That's what I like to think was the problem. And you know, not cocaine.

4. SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT

This guy was a friend of a friend and he came and picked me up for dinner and he bought flowers and that was really old school and sweet.  We ate dinner at a quirky Italian restaurant and talked about travel.  All was going well until whatever you ate didn't agree with you and you had...errr...tummy troubles.

I never heard from you again. I assume because you were so embarrassed about getting diarrhea.  It never would have worked with us anyway because I like fart humour a lot.  And if that made you squeamish, well....

5. CALL WILFRED BRIMLEY

Diabeetus.  It doesn't mix well with alcohol.  Please don't tell me on the first date that you are definitely a "not in recovery alcoholic with diabeetus".  Please, please call Wilfred Brimley and get that shit sorted.

6.  DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE

I honestly felt like Alice in Wonderland when the latest guy I went out with started to tell me his conspiracy theories (although he corrected me and said he was a conspiracy FACTIST).  He explained to me about the studies he was doing into the Australian Government and legal system and he was now "down the rabbit hole".  Conspiracy theories included, but were not limited to:
a) how corrupt our legal system is and how you can fight any charge you're up on by citing the King James bible because if the prosecuting side fight it, it is considered treason against the Queen
b) how our government is formed illegally and is really run by and registered to American corporations
c) how even though I consider myself a person, I'm really chattel to those corporations as proven by the fact that my name on my drivers licence is written in capitals
d) and how so many of our legal words are based on the language of the sea - as in it's a birth (berth) certificate and you go to the doctors (dock-tors).

My favourite part was when you said to me "if I ever commit suicide you'll know they got me".

Now I know how to answer the one question smug married's ask me at parties. "So. How's single life?"
Have you got any great dating stories?



Thursday 19 September 2013

Why I had to like Nickelback for three minutes

Yesterday morning on the drive during school drop off, Nickelback came on my radio.  My teenage son, quickly changed the station and we both made snide Nickelback comments.  Quietly, from the back seat, my younger son said "They aren't that bad.  Nanna likes them".  My teenager and I laughed obnoxiously at how that comment did not make Nickelback cooler.

Later that night I attended the South Australian Primary Schools Festival of Music choir night at the Festival Theatre.  My youngest son was in the choir and very excited about the performance.  He'd been practicing for weeks.

I stood around and made awkward small talk with parents I'm not really friendly with, snuck off to grab a champagne to steel my nerves (for my son) and took my seat at the Festival Theatre quietly excited about seeing my son perform in an event that I, myself, performed in, 32 years ago.

I tweeted my excitement and a fellow parent tweeted back "You'll cry in the first song".  I sat there smugly, sure that I would just find it terribly amusing in a primary school kid kind of way.

The curtain rose and a rainbow of kids in candy coloured t-shirts appeared.  The auditorium was silent and the kids on stage rubbed their hands together, creating an impressive visual and audible effect.  They then started clicking, then smacking their thighs as an African landscape appeared on the screen behind them.  Suddenly in a wave like effect they all stomped and a flash of light appeared and I realised that what they were creating with the different sounds, was the sound of a thunderstorm.  I felt my eyes well up.  They started with "Africa" by Toto.  A song I remember hearing on the radio in my youth, while eating toast and listening to Baz & Pilko on early morning radio.  The tears fell.

A torrent of tears snaked down my face when the 400 strong choir sung Michael Jackson's "Man in the Mirror".  (YES WE CAN ALL MAKE A CHANGE PEOPLE, WE JUST NEED TO START WITH THE MAN IN THE MIRROR AND MY HEART IS SWELLING AND THE TEARS ARE FALLING).

Suffice it to say that I laughed and cried and clapped my way through the concert every inch a proud parent.

But the best bit was yet to come.  My teenage son had attended the concert with his father, so we weren't sitting together, but when the presenter announced the last song I howled with laughter, much to the disgust of the people next to me.  Why?  Because it was a Nickelback song.  Yes.  They ended with a Nickelback song. I can't even tell you what it was, not being a fan, but I could just picture my teenagers face.  HORRIFIED.

After the concert ended and while I was waiting for the teachers to appear with my child, I checked facebook. As you do.  My teenager had posted:  I was at my little brothers choir concert and all was going well until the last song.  They played Nickelback.  No.  Just No.

I doubled over with laughter again.  I think the parents think I'm very odd.  But at least I understand now, why my youngest son defended Nickelback.  And why for three minutes of my life - I liked Nickelback.

Saturday 7 September 2013

Survivor

I have a sunny disposition.  I'm a positive person.  I like to be light hearted and irreverent.  Sometimes people think that's all there is to me.  They don't see the intelligence or sensitivity behind the cheek.  For the most part I'm okay with that.  But today, I'm not.  I'm not okay with people thinking I'm dumb and insensitive.

I'm relatively open about what happens in my life because I like my life and I have no shame, regrets or embarrassment about how I choose to live.  Because for a long time I didn't choose how I lived, it was chosen for me.

There is a reason for that.  I'm a survivor of abuse.  I don't share that often and even today I'm not going to talk about the abuse because it's not how I define myself.  But the abuse has left an indelible stamp on me and that's what I want to talk about today.

To survive in a relationship where you don't know what is going to set off the abuse you learn to read people's body language very well.  Extraordinarily well.  You have to.  Because you have to read the warning signs.  I can read micro expressions incredibly well and I'm hyper aware of people all the time.  It's now bordering on an instinctual behaviour with me.

This makes me highly anxious.  If I walk into a situation where things are tense my flight or fight instinct goes into overdrive.  Even when the tension has nothing to do with me whatsoever.  I've learnt to hide that anxiety when in public.  It hits me a lot at home where I feel safe and I can allow the panic to win for a little while.  I also know how to come out of that panic and deal with it, thanks to counselling.

Because I feel like the abuse pretty much trained me to observe what was going on around me at all times and be ready to quickly deal with what was coming, I read micro expressions at a glance. This means, more often that not, I can sense what people are hiding and/or truly feeling.  I'm privy to a lot of secrets people aren't even aware that they've shared with me.  Oh I'm not talking great details. I'm not psychic. But I can pick a hidden emotion at 20 paces. Ninety percent of the time I ignore what I see.  Not because I don't care, but because it has nothing to do with me.  I'll only act or react if I think the person or situation requires it and even then I'll often think about it and try to think ahead of ways the situation will pan out should I say something.

It almost means it's almost impossible to lie to me.  This is a great thing as a parent.  My kids can't get away with anything and they know it.  So they don't even try.  This is not a great thing as a member of the human race, because people lie a lot.  Most of them badly.   Kind, little white lies, no big deal.  Compassion and kindness more often that not are the drivers of this behaviour and if we can make the world a little more kind and allow people to save face, then I'm all for it.  But sometimes the lies are cruel, mean and plain stupid and those times I don't understand and it perplexes me.  I'm often shocked by it.  The fact I still get shocked, shocks me, because it happens often.  I'll never get used to it.  I guess I'll never be a cynical person, no matter how hard I try.  This is a good thing.

I've been planning this post for quite a while and even now I'm not sure how to end it or what purpose it's supposed to serve.  I just knew I had to write it.  I guess I'm learning how to be more vulnerable and this is a step in that process.  There's more to me than silly banter.

There's more to a lot of people if you just take the time to notice.


Monday 2 September 2013

Today and tomorrow.


I love who I am.  I wouldn't want to be anybody else.

I am independent.  Today I want to lean on someone.

I am strong.  Today I'm very weak.

I am okay being on my own.  Today I am lonely.

I have a sunny disposition. Today I am in shadows.

I am flexible.  Today I feel brittle.

I am a single parent. Today I need a partner.

I love what I do for a living. Today I didn't do it well.

I am good at looking after people's needs.  Today I want someone to care for mine.

I'm good at juggling lots of different balls. Today they are scattered around me on the floor.

I'm always hopeful.  Today I feel helpless.

I'm brave.  Today I was fearful.

I laugh every day.  Today I want to cry.

I'm forgiving.  Today I am angry.

Today I wish I was somebody else.

Tomorrow I will be me again.

Tuesday 27 August 2013

Goddess of Plenty...

...plenty of dishes, plenty of carbs, plenty of drinks....

I'm 3 weeks into my fitness program and I have to say this week I had too much plenty.

It was my birthday so I treated myself.  With a special dinner and plenty of cake.  And I don't feel the slightest bit of guilt.  I have recently taken up baking and I enjoyed the fruits (okay the chocolate ganache) of my labour.  In fact, I enjoyed it twice.

My work colleague recently did me a huge favour and fixed my computer.  He bought it back from the dead.  I baked him scones to say thank you.  I ate some of the scones.  With Jam. And Cream.  Because. Scones.

I didn't feel guilty about that either.

The scales may not weigh in my favour this week - but I'm in this for the long run.  It's not about dropping massive kilos, it's not about looking like anyone else, it's about finding the best version of me.  If I only drop 2 kilos but feel strong, healthy and happy then so be it.

But hell if you can't enjoy cake (and maybe a couple of scotches) on your birthday then quite frankly I'd like to quit the human race now.  Because life is for living, enjoying, relishing and taking immense pleasure in.

Oh and hey, now that I'm baking and not poisoning anyone, I guess I'm a goddess in another room of the house now?  Ha!  But just for balance, I must confess I'll never be a goddess of housework. Because UGH.

Kill me now if I ever blog about the joys of ironing...

Thursday 15 August 2013

Perversity, potential and pastry


I'm a highly creative and highly organised person (often these two traits don't go together), so you'd think that cooking would satisfy by both my creative and organised side - but that's not the case.

I was a fussy eater as a child and it wasn't until in my 20s I discovered a love of eating food, but I did not discover a love of cooking food.  Whatever I could cook the fastest and with the least amount of trouble was on the menu - when I wasn't organising takeaway.

But at the start of 2013 I gave away sugar and highly processed food.  This changed my cooking (and eating) habits. I still didn't really enjoy cooking as such, but I was definitely doing more of it.

In April this year I got full time work.  Meaning I had less time to be at home and prepare meals.  Perversely, this made me more determined to provide nourishing, home cooked meals for myself and my kids.  Probably because everyone thought I couldn't do it - after all I hardly did it while working part time.

Then on top of full time work I took on presenting a radio show once a month. (Directors Cut on your local ABC Digital station if you'd like to tune in)  A half an hour show doesn't sound like a lot - except for the fact that I have to review an entire lifetime of  our chosen director's work, research how he works, organise questions, interview my regular guest, edit it and package it up on top of full time work.  Add to this, the fact that I volunteer for a community theatre company preparing the programs for their shows and I'm currently in pre-production for a play with my own little production company and one could say life was busy.  Oh, did I mention I'm a single parent?  My life is crazy-busy full and I love it.

People have said to me "Oh you'll never be able to keep this up", and this is where my perversity comes into it.  Because: yes I will.  I love being busy. I THRIVE on being busy.  I'm a better person when I'm busy.  When I have nothing to do - I become a lazy, lousy, unmotivated, boring, putrifying piece of  flesh on my couch.

But I still had time to spare.  What to do with it I said?  (The busier I am, the more I find to do - as I said PERVERSE).  Then I discovered GABO (Great Australian Bake Off).  I don't watch cooking shows. Ugh.  Everyone is on a journey.  Everyone cries when their souffle falls or their beef isn't perfectly pink in the middle (the only time I've ever seen people cry over food is when I serve up dinner at my house).

I only watched this as my colleague and friend Monique was on it.  At the end of the first show, my eldest son said to me "Well you could never do that".  RED FLAG TO A BULL.

I spent the weekend making Monique's swimming pool showstopper cake.  It took 6 hours. But I did it.  Since then I've discovered a love of baking.  Weirdly it's not for the finished product.  It's for the intense concentration and focus I have to have.  It's like meditation.  Whatever stresses I have in my life (admittedly not many) fade away as I concentrate not to fuck up a cake.

Unfortunately for me, this love of baking has coincided with me starting signing up to a 12 week fitness program.  No more licking the spoons for me.  I'm not going to stop baking.  I'm just going to share the cake around.  I was only 2 days into this program when GABO decided to a show on cheesecakes.  I. LOVE. CHEESECAKE.  I would MARRY cheesecake.  Monique had to go and make one of my favourite flavours of cheesecake - baked sour cream and blueberry cheesecake (the couch cushions did receive a fair amount of drool that night).  But I didn't run to the cupboard and stuff my face with sweet things. I sipped on my herbal tea and envisioned my wobbly thighs not being wobbly anymore and got through it.

It's truly perverse that when I discover a love of cooking rich foods and baking decadent desserts that I start a nutrition kick.  But as I've said I'm perverse.  Let's hope my new found love of pastry doesn't get in the way of my fitness potential.  Like Monique, I'd rather be a sporty baker and leave my wibble-wobble as the description for my cheesecake.





Friday 2 August 2013

Food, food, glorious food

I'm going to come right out and say it. I LOVE FOOD.  LOVE IT.  I'm not one of those "eat to live" people.  I'm not necessarily a "live to eat" person either.  But I love food.  I love healthy, nutritious food and I love super rich, fatty, clog your arteries feel guilty afterwards food.  Eating is an awesome experience.  I cherish food.  We're all clear on how I feel about food, right?  But sometimes I can go a whole day without eating.  I forget.  What type of person who loves food, can forget it?  But I do.

The best way to describe my eating habits is indiscriminate.  Now that I'm over 40 though, this indiscriminate eating habit of mine is not working for me.  Oh, it's fine in your teens and early 20s...but not so much now.

I'm a fairly active person.  I don't go to the gym.  I don't walk daily, in fact I'm a bit of a couch potato from about 6:30 onwards most weeknights.  But from the moment I get up, til the moment I sit down and watch the umpteenth re-run of Friends that I STILL find funny (Oh Chandler marry me, I love you still) I pretty much lay on the couch, drink cups of tea and occasionally scrounge whatever sweet stuff I can find in my pantry during the commercial breaks.

That's pretty hard for me because I don't buy rubbish food.  In fact I order my food online so I don't get tempted at the supermarket chocolate aisle, or the chip aisle or the fridges that stock the soft, gooey cheese that I like.  So I end up eating tablespoons of milo, nutella or lemon spread on the occasions the sweet cravings get the better of me.

On the weekends I have my children, Saturday night is junk food night.  They get to choose so it's generally pizza or MacDonalds, eaten with much gusto and fighting over who's getting that extra chicken nugget.  Yes I take food out of their mouths.  Mother. Of. The. Year.  I've even occasionally hidden treats and opened them after they went to bed.  Because I deserve it.  You know, being a single parent and all.  Actually just for breathing.

But now has come the time to take stock, put down the fairy bread and stop eating cheezels off my fingers (unless it's my birthday - then all bets are off).

So I've done something I swore I'd never do, because I don't believe in "dieting" and I don't believe a person's life focus should be how small their bum is in a pair of jeans.  But I signed up for a fitness program.  I'm not interested in becoming super skinny.  I'm never going to be that girl.  Even when I was at my fittest, I still had an arse that had people quoting Sir Mixalot at me.  I have curves.  I like my curves.  I'm not that fond of the jelly centre that's covering the curves at the moment, nor am I fond of the way my jeans seem to cut into me by about 3:30pm every day.  It's an uncomfortable feeling.

Now I'm cool with being outside my comfort zone, but I don't think worrying about your muffin top is what people are referring to when they use that saying, so it's time do something about it.  And I know me. I'm a team player and I'm competitive so to sign up to something where others are involved seems worth a shot to me.

So this blog is putting it out there. Holding me accountable.  I've got a friend on the outside and a work colleague on the inside to help keep me honest.  Oh I'm 100% positive I'll slip up and sneak a cheezel, and a few scotches, but life is still for living.  But I want to be sure I'm around to live it. So I'm going to give this thing a go.

Let's hope I'm not too sore to blog about the progress.  Let's hope I'm whiny and funny about the places I never knew I had to hurt.  Please God, let ME find it funny at least.

Tuesday 21 May 2013

Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow

Nothing like a bit of Fleetwood Mac for inspiration.  That was our encore song for our cabaret show, Love Lust & Everything in Between.  Yep. Cabaret Show.  Let me backtrack 12 months.

I was sharing a coffee with my friend Celeste and we were bemoaning the fact that people around us see us as one particular way and we're feeling frustrated knowing that there is more to us than people  see.  BUT, and here's the difference....instead of just having a whine about it and continuing on with our lives as they were, we decided to CHANGE our worlds.  Everyone thought we were mad.  No one thought we could do it.  Lots of people said it was a mistake.  Some people said we were brave (but the intonation was "cray-cray")

Discussions around a kitchen table turned a dream  into a plan and another friend joined our team, Barbara.

The music came first.  And then from the music, came a story.  From the story came a script. From a script came a talent call out.  Some answered no, some answered yes. Those that answered yes, put their faith into the hands of amateurs with a trust I didn't know really existed.  Suddenly we were five, with Jess and Gus on board.

Meetings around a kitchen table became instructions to cast members.  Rehearsals in a hall soon got changed to rehearsals in a kitchen with a dining table and a rug pushed back against the windows.  A couple of practices with a band on a hot summers day in a boiling hot garage and we had a working "practice cd".  More rehearsals in a kitchen with two boys listening from the lounge room and offering "criticism". 

A venue was found, a sound technician came on board, lights were borrowed, insurances checked and all that remained was the necessary audience.

The date grew closer.  Tickets were handed out to our cast and friends, family, work colleagues were alternately begged, coerced, bribed and pleaded with to buy tickets.  Finally, we had enough sales to cover costs.  Phew.  Met the required number of 85.  

Time crept up on us and before we knew it the day had arrived.  A flurry of last minute tickets were bought and at 132 seats, the show was officially a sell out.  SHIT.  Now we really, truly have to be good.

Bump in occurs.  Lines forgotten, songs off key, performers ill.  Power cords missing.  Surely it will be a disaster?

5:30 pm rocks around and the crowd is early.  Tickets say DOORS OPEN AT 6PM but people are early.  Cast is not ready.  PANIC. PANIC. PANIC. For better or worse LOVE, LUST & EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN is on.

Hearts, pounding, voices lifted, characters on display.  It's happening people.  I can't even describe the performance.  But those who have performed know that it's a kind of magic, when it's right and the next two hours for us, are magical.

8:45.  Show's over.  Bows taken.  Thanks are read out to all who helped and supported and then finally I say "Tonight was our Dream...and when it comes to Love, and Dreaming, don't stop.  The band plays our final song and with joy and exuberance we sing our hearts out to the people who came to see us.  I can see mobile phones being waved in the air (the way lighters used to be) I can see people on their feet dancing with us, singing with us, I can see clapping and cheering and stomping and the world stops for just a little bit.

We did it.  From merely a seed, we grew something amazing and we changed our world. I will forever be proud of this achievement.

World's Most Okayest Mum

So, there's one of those posts going around on facebook at the moment which makes me want fill people's feeds with a facebook rant...oh wait I have a blog for that.

This is what it says "Anyone can call themselves a parent, but a REAL parent puts their children's lives before their own selfish needs and wants".

OH FFS.  GET REAL PEOPLE.  This is just one of those Judgy McJudgster from Judgeville posts that is judgemental and designed to make other people feel bad.  Why do you want to do that?

First of all, by it's very definition a NEED isn't selfish.

I NEED air, water, food, shelter.  How is that selfish and how does that make me a bad parent?

I NEED to work.  I'm a single parent.  If I don't work, I don't get the food, water, shelter part of my first need.  How is that selfish and how does that make me a bad parent?

Oh that's right it's NOT and it DOESN'T.

Secondly, wanting things isn't selfish.  You are ALLOWED to want things.  It doesn't mean you always get them  - but it is NOT bad parenting to want things.

I want a job I love.  I'm lucky I have one.  It's not selfish of me  nor does it make me a bad parent to aim to have this. If you don't currently have this yourself and WANT this for yourself, it doesn't make you a bad parent. You know what it is - it's GOOD.  It teaches your children about determination, hard work and the satisfaction of a job well done.

I want friends in my life.  It's not selfish of me, nor does it make me a bad parent to have them.  I'm lucky.  I have many good friends.  You know what it is - it's GOOD.  It teaches my children that I value different people, with different lives, different experiences and it teaches them that I am a person OUTSIDE of "mum".

I want hobbies in my life.  It's not selfish of me, nor does it make me a bad parent to have them.  I'm lucky.  I have a great hobby.  It's musical theatre.  You know what it is - it's GOOD.  It teaches my children about creative expression, belonging to a team, working together and being part of a community.

I want to live in my own house and be financially secure.  It's not selfish of me, nor does it make me a bad parent.  I have neither.  I'm renting and my job (which I love) is "casual".  I work every day of the week, but I'm a casual employee.  I'm working towards making it full time and I'm saving my hardest to one day have enough to put a deposit on a house.  You know what it is - it's GOOD.  It teaches my kids that you can't always get what you want - but that it's okay to keep trying and it's good to work towards goals.

Do my kids sometimes have to sit in a cafe while I catch up with my friends?  Yes.  They do.  They learn about manners, they learn about appropriate behaviour in social situations, they learn about the give and take of friendships.

Do my  kids sometimes have to attend rehearsals while I'm doing a show?  Yes.  They do.  They learn that chasing dreams does NOT have an age limit.  They learn that being passionate about something in life fills up your emotional cup (so to speak) which then allows you to fill others.

Do my kids sometimes see me scratch my head and get stressed about how to pay the bills?  Do my kids see me budget and say no to things because I can't afford them?  Yes.  They do.  They learn to live within their means.  They learn financial responsibility. They learn money doesn't grow on trees. They learn that you have to earn the money to pay the bills and that sometimes you have to go without.  They learn delayed gratification.

Do I work my arse off to give them the best education I can? Yes.  Do I make sure they have extracurricular activities outside school that they can enjoy?  Yes.  Do I make sure they catch up with friends and family so they can value those relationships? Yes. Do I make sure they are fed, clothed, cleaned and sufficiently rested to stay healthy? Yes.

Do I give my kids everything they want at my expense?  HELL NO.  What the hell would that teach them?  It would give them a sense of entitlement they shouldn't have.  It would teach them that they are the centre of the universe and they're not.  They are two people on a planet with over 7 billion other people.  If I did that I would be raising two of the most selfish, arrogant, egotistical, ill-mannered, boring poopyholes to roam the earth.  THAT'S BAD PARENTING.

I want to raise compassionate, empathetic, reasonable, logical, kind, passionate, loyal, loving, considerate men.  That starts with me showing them about life with all its needs and wants - and I can't do that if I don't have one.


Tuesday 15 January 2013

We Hate You. Buy Me Please.


So this morning as I drank my freshly made apple, celery and watermelon juice (guess who got a juicer for Christmas!) I opened a "women's" magazine and started flicking through the pages.  Now before I go any further I'm going to announce that I do not buy or regularly read this type of magazine.  I read one international magazine regularly for two years but only because I was given a subscription to it - and it was not a "buy it at the checkout" style magazine.  This particular magazine was left at my place by a friend who had dropped by and left it behind.

But out of curiosity I started flicking through the pages of it and I came to the rapid conclusion that these magazines, edited by women, made for women and purchased by women are not a good thing.  In fact I think that these magazines are the passive aggressive frenemy of the "sisterhood".  They hate you.  They want you to hate you.  So that you'll keep buying them to find out what will make you happy and perfect and lovable.  And I'm MAD AS HELL AND NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANYMORE.

This is what I saw/read/was subjected to/offended by in the pages of this magazine:

Open magazine:  Berate celebrity woman for having work done.  Turn page. Berate different celebrity woman for looking old.  Turn page.  Berate thin celebrity women in bikinis for being a bag of bones and beg them to eat something.  Turn page. Berate overweight celebrity women for wearing a bikini while she has cellulite.  Turn page.  Recipe for healthy eating (presumably for overweight women in bikinis).  Turn page.  Recipe for decadent dessert (presumably for thin women who need nourishment).  Turn page.  CELEBRATE celebrity dad for "babysitting" his own children in playground and wax philosophically on what an amazing HUMAN he is and how LUCKY his wife is.  Turn page.  Celebrity psychic answering letters from women telling them they will find the right man, or they already have the right man and don't mess it up.  Turn page.  Horoscope.  The only page that isn't actually berating women for not being too thin, too fat, too old, too fake, too single, too married, too career focused, too 1950s housewife.

WHAT. THE. HELL.  I couldn't find one article that celebrated a woman for being good at anything she did!  Is it impossible to find a woman who's doing amazing things that aren't related to her weight?  Aren't there a host of terrific people out there, volunteering in their community, breaking down barriers, doing amazing research, telling great stories, whatever they're choosing to do and doing it well, that are worthy of women (and men) knowing about?  

All I know is, that at the end of reading this "magazine" I completely understand why women are so hard on themselves.  They are constantly being told they are not good enough. By. Other. Women.

I'm here to say, put down the magazine.  Life your life.  Be happy in it and love yourself.  Because these magazines sure as hell don't love you.