So Close

Blogging no-nos

Poor Sister Mel. She posted a note today about Blogging No-Nos. Being a bloggie newbie of just over a year old, she is clearly still learning the ropes. She was recently called to task after making the fatal error of publicly admitting that, although she loves all animals, yes, even dogs, she would prefer not to have a crotch-sniffer of her own. Shock horror! Melly, you must never, ever admit to not wanting a dog as a pet. People are very sensitive about dogs. And God. And cyclists. And bathing and helmets and getting defensive and all sorts of other things.

When you admitted to being a spanker I nearly choked on my Chardonnay! ARE YOU MAD?? Why don’t you just admit to doing drugs and cheating on your husband?? No, there are certain things one should never admit to on one’s blog. Not if you don’t want to draw furious debate and lots of finger pointing. Plus the occasional troll.

A safe bet is to talk about the organic, homemade meal you lovingly prepared for your family. But make sure you mention that you have NOTHING against those who eat non-organic, store bought meals and how you respect everyone’s right to eat what they want and that you would never judge someone for the food choices they made. Then make sure you donate all your money EQUALLY to both the starving children and the abused animals.

Or you could be like me and blog warts and all, the good bits, the not so good bits and the emotionally defensive over-reactions. And people can either like you for who you are, or they can fuck right off. Simple, really.

IVF Survey

Are you going through IVF treatment? If so, take the IVF survey, sponsored by MomLogic.com, Redbook and the National Women's Health Resource Center. Make your voice heard!  Launch the survey here.

Some days are just like this...

I know this is very childish, but it just appealed to my sense of humour.  Haha!

Am definitely NOT having one of those days though.  It is a GORGEOUS day outside and Marko has taken the kids out. I am home alone!!! I am giddy with excitement.

(WHERE IS THAT DOG'S HELMET!!!  QUICK, SOMEONE CALL THE DOG POLICE!)

Is there a role for the Parenting Police after all?

So, I’ve been thinking about this whole Parenting Police thing. About whether or not it has a legitimate role in our society. Whether it is harmful or helpful. Is it about the children, or is it about us and the choices we’ve made. Has it always been like this or is this a modern phenomenon, if so why? What is it like in your country?

Do we have a moral / social / civic obligation to police the parenting of others, or is it our right to raise our children as we see fit? 

When we offer our advice or opinion, are we interfering or are we helping? Are we doing it to help the child, to inform the uniformed parent, or are we doing it to validate our own parenting choices? 

When you see an example of parenting that you think could potentially be harmful to a child, should you say something? And how do we define harmful? Your ‘harmful’ might be my ‘perfectly acceptable’. Cultural, religious, societal differences all come into play. Besides the unequivocal examples of rape and murder, are there any absolute truths that cross all divides? 

There is inherent danger in everything we do. There is danger in sleeping (back to sleep campaign), in eating (obesity vs GM foods vs organic vs dieting vs a total minefield), in how we discipline our children, in schooling, bathing, riding bikes, breathing. Where do you draw the line? If you know I don’t sit in the bathroom ALL THE TIME while my kids bathe, and you know that the Department of Bathing has said that children can drown in the bath, should you warn me? Help me? Advise me? Police me? If you see my children ride their bikes without helmets, and in your country helmets are law, should you point it out to me? If I see you out with your severely overweight children, should I mention the obesity epidemic and warn you of the dangers of childhood obesity? How far do we go? Is it my right to intervene, or is it none of my damn business?

What do you think? Is there a role for the Parenting Police, and when is it appropriate, if ever, to police the parenting of others?

(And by ‘Parenting Police’, I am talking everything from giving your opinion or advice, to calling social services for a real or imagined infraction)

Finding it increasingly difficult to pretend he doesn't care

Ok, so maybe I did over-react a little

Sister Mel and I are always on each other's side. We've been known to punch other people in the nose if anyone is ugly to our sister. Ok so that was when were were 7 and 5, but the feeling is still there.  (Mel did the punching. Go Mel!)  So when Sister Mel says maybe we (me!) are over-reacting, then I have to sit up and take notice.

So, maybe I did over-react a little.  But besides it being my RIGHT to over-react and have a little 'moment' on my own blog, I've never pretended to be a thick-skinned tough cookie.  Far from it in fact. I've openly admitted to being super-sensitive, overly-defensive, thin-skinned person to reacts badly to criticism, ESPECIALLY when it comes to my children and my mothering skills, or lack thereof.  What you see on this blog is what you get in real life, warts and all.  Good bits and not so good bits.  Which makes it so strange to me that people get so upset with me when I get defensive or emotional about something.  Why?  Why do you get so cross?  It's actually a serious question, I am not being facetious  Are you disappointed in me?  Have I not lived up to an ideal?  What is it that makes some people so angry with me when I get "defensive"?

And now, if I may, I would like to tell you why I got so upset, so 'defensive'.  A commenter on the post below got it right, I was hurt. I was hurt because it felt like I had shared something special with you, and you (the helmet pointer outers) made it less special. It was such a special, significant moment, I felt so proud and a little, um, raw?  When you have been through the mill like I have, it is the normal things, the common things like a first ride on the bike that take on huge significance, because you realize how privileged you are to have an opportunity to experience them.  I felt like a child who shyly and proudly showed off something special she had made, and you looked at it with an edge of scorn and said "but look! you've drawn outside the lines and stuck the pictures all wrong!"  I felt deflated and flat.  I know it isn't a big thing in the grander scheme of things. It was only a few comments, and only one that really got to me. And perhaps I shouldn't have reacted the way I did, but the hurt was real.  I could take the post down and pretend it never happened, but as I've said to you many times before, this is me, warts and all. I can't pretend to be anyone other than this imperfect, defensive, super-sensitive being that I am.

Anyway, I've wasted FAR too much head space and blog space to this.  Am moving on.

As for the barefoot thing - my kids are always barefoot. Barefoot at school, to the shops, outside and inside. This is Africa, we only wear shoes to church. And we all know how often my kids go to church ;-)

The Patrolling Parenting Police Strike Again

On Saturday I was feeling in a particularly mellow, reflective mood. Happy reflective, grateful. It was such a sweet experience to see the kids take on their new big boy and big girl bikes.

And then my heart sank as the comments start coming in on my blog. Good lord, it has happened again. After four years of blogging, I shouldn’t have been surprised by it, but it seems to catch me unawares every time.

The Patrolling Parenting Police have struck again.

The comments were for the most part polite and I suppose meant to be well-meaning. I let it go and didn’t say anything because, well, what can one say? I could ask you whether; knowing what you know about me, you really, really thought I would deliberately endanger my children? I could have taken offence at the insinuation that I am either incredibly stupid or grossly negligent.

I could have explained that the kids rode exactly THREE meters around us, with Marko standing RIGHT THERE, in arms reach; in a road where NOT ONE car drove past the entire time we were there. I could point out that with training wheels, a top speed of not more than 0.1mph and a marked inability to propel forward at any discernable pace, the kids were hardly in danger. But I chose not too. I thought I would just let it go.

I considered briefly asking what gave you the right to pass judgement on my parenting skills?  Especially when no where did I ask you for your advice or opinion. I wanted to ask you whether your air of parenting superiority came from the belief that you were 100% perfect all the time, or were you right only some of the time?

Or was that it that you felt it was your moral and civic duty to save my children from my obviously apparent incompetence?

But where would that have got me? Probably more drama and to be quite honest, I am way too busy to deal with drama right now.

But that was until I got the comment from ‘anonymous’ this morning. It was a simple comment, consisting of only one word followed by many question marks “Helmets???” The sour taste of betrayal it left in my mouth was the final straw. What type of person makes a random drive-by judgement like that? What type of person would take the beautiful sentiment of gratitude I had expressed in my post and sour it by making that one judgey, ugly comment?

And so I had a look and there she was. Looking so normal, so perfect, smiling back at me in her family portrait with her husband and three perfect children.  Why would a mother do that another mother? Don’t we all have it hard? Isn’t the thing that drives most of us the strong, deep love we have for our children? Why would you leave an anonymous drive-by on some other mom’s blog? I don’t understand it, I really don’t. I suppose she didn’t think I would find out who she was. Which makes it worse, actually. Cowardly.

I see she calls herself ‘supermom’ in her description on her blog. She says she is “a semi-stay-at-home mom… who loves to garden, sew, craft, quilt and scrapbook”. Isn’t that what perfect moms do? God, I have absolutely no chance at all, do I? I am so far out of the mold, its scary.

I don’t know. I am not sure why that last comment upset me so much. It feels like a betrayal somehow, even though I don’t know her at all and she only ‘knows’ me from my blog. I just don’t understand the Parenting Police. I don’t get them, and I especially don’t understand how women (especially mothers) can be so mean to other women / mothers.

I don’t know. Am feeling completely flat. A bit like I’ve completed blindsided by this onslaught of the patrolling Parenting Police who have absolutely no compunction to chew up, spit out and toss aside any person they might encounter along the way who doesn’t quite to fit into their definition of Acceptable Parenting Practice. Who feel it is their right to leave anonymous drive-by judgements on the blogs of complete strangers. Who hide contemptuous disdain for others behind fake smiles and the phony veneer of perfection. 

But then again, perhaps I am just hormonal or something. Who knows. All I know is that it will probably again in the not too distant future. One thing about the ubiquitous Patrolling Parenting Police, they are nothing if not dedicated to their cause.

(To those who are inevitably going to respond to this post with a comment that says something like, “BUT HELMETS ARE VERY IMPORTANT ” I say this – if you don’t shut up about the helmets, I am going to take the fucking helmet, attach it to the end of my foot and SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS!!

Contrary to popular belief, I am not stupid, nor have I been living under a rock for the last few years. Of course I know helmets are important, and as soon as I feel it is necessary, I will put them on MY kids. My kids = I decide. Your kids = You decide. Got it? Good. Let us not speak of this again.)

Wrapped

It is Sister Mel’s birthday soon which means it is again time to reflect how two people related by blood can be SO totally different when it comes to certain things. Like birthdays. And gifts. And more specifically, gift wrapping.

Sister Mel loves birthdays (especially her own), loves gifts and has this crazy thing where she likes, no EXPECTS her gifts to be gift wrapped. I don’t understand it. What is the point of spending an extra 10 or 20 bucks on fancy paper that someone is going to rip to shreds within 0.05 seconds of getting the gifts? Wouldn’t you rather have that extra money spent on the actual gift (i.e. the gift certificate I so lovingly picked out for you)?

And if you think Sister Mel is bad, you should meet little sister Nina. Not only does she expect the gift to be wrapped, but she also expects a card. Now THERE is a total waste of money if I’ve ever seen one. Why would anyone want to spend money on a piece of fancy cardboard with someone else’s words on it?

I asked both sisters why they insisted on having their gifts wrapped accompanied by a card. “It shows you care” they first said. But I do care! I don’t need fancy paper and cardboard to show I care, I replied. “Well, it shows you care enough to make an effort” was the next answer. Fine, but you both know I am wrapping the gift because you say it is important, not because I care any more or any less. Grumble grumble sticky tape scissors and paper grumble.

Wrapping a gift for children I understand. Adds to the element of surprise and excitement. “What could it be” they marvel while they wastefully rip the paper off. Fine, you want surprise; I’ll wrap it in the store bag it came in. Look! Surprise!

A mutual friend of Friend Mel and mine recently had a baby shower and I offered to buy the gift. I sent a text message to Friend Mel saying that I had got the goods and she replied “I hope you’ve wrapped the gift”, to which I replied “obviously not”. The curt response via text was “WRAP THE FUCKING GIFT YOU ASSHOLE. OR ELSE”. So I went out and bought the damn paper and wrapped the damn gift. (I am almost more scared of Friend Mel than Sister Mel. Both Mels are extremely bossy). I have to say, I didn't care any more about our friend after the gift was wrapped than before.  I did care that Friend Mel had SHOUTED at me.  Scary assed bossy boots.

As our friend was opening the various beautifully wrapped gifts, the woman next to me sighed and said “look how beautifully that gift is wrapped (clearly NOT talking about my gift). Doesn’t presentation make all the difference?” I nodded vaguely and gulped down my champagne.

I am clearly in the minority here. To me, presentation makes absolutely no difference at all. The gift could come in a brown paper bag or a sterling silver gift box – it isn’t important. But it clearly is to others. Most people. Enlighten me. Does it really matter whether your gift comes wrapped or unwrapped? Does presentation really make that much difference after all?

Perfect

I had one of those days today where I again realized how damn lucky I am. I am blessed a million times over to have my gorgeous children and my wonderful husband. I live in a lovely home, in a pretty suburb in a beautiful country. Another perfect day in paradise.  I am so, so lucky.  Words just aren't enough sometimes. My heart is full.

We bought these bicycles two years ago, when the kids were a year old. I think they were on sale.  Probably. Marko took them out the shed today and taught the kids how to ride.  Adam got it straight away and although Kate at first refused to accept that one actually has to PEDDLE to make the bike go forward, she got it eventually.  I thought my heart was going to burst.  When did my babies get so big???



Adam is totally in love with his new bike. So much so that it had to sleep next to him tonight.

PS  Poor Kate had a nasty fall today (hence the band aid on the chin). Bloody Bruno knocked her over in his haste to mount the neighbour's dog and she scraped her chin on the wall.  Bloody asshole!  (Bruno, not Kate)

PPS Re Adam's revolting silky red shorts - hideous I know. He loves them.  Twenty five ront from A C Kermans.

Report Card

Hello all, sorry I’ve been MIA. We’ve had an interesting week. Adam woke up puking on Tuesday morning and although he seemed perfectly fine between pukes, he couldn’t seem to keep anything down. Took him off to the absolutely divine Dr Etienne who said that it looked like he was getting dehydrated and he wanted to run some tests on him. An hour later we were admitted and spent the night on a drip. It wasn’t anything too serious (faecal loading – the anal retentiveness is clearly hereditary) and by the next morning we were both bouncing off the walls.  Needless to say I didn’t get much sleep. Anywayyyyy, we are all home and happy to have a long weekend.

Speaking of which, is Easter a big thing there? Its quite a big thing here. Many of the shops are closed today and we all have a lovely long weekend.  And the whole Global Warming thing MUST be true because it is a PERFECT autumn day here in Cape Town, hot, no wind, stunning blue skies. That is the weather we usually have in the week and by the time the weekend arrives, it is windy and shitty. But not today. Having the in laws over for a braai today. Because that is what South Africans do on a lovely hot day, we braai.

So, Adam and Kate got their report card yesterday. The lovely teacher put together a ‘memory book’ of their first term at school and it is SO sweet. It is such a lovely thing to do. Little stories, some of their art work. A few photos. It is something I will treasure forever.

Here is Kate’s report:

“Kate is doing very well at school. She is a very feisty little girl that knows what she wants. Kate sometimes needs encouragement to follow the routine of the rest of the school – she likes to complete activities at her pace.

If she is enjoying an activity you can feel her excitement and her the chattering and laughter. She will join the other children in various games, often trying to lead”

Here is Adam’s report:

“Adam enjoys doing art activities, but likes me to encourage him as he works. He is very particular about what colours he wants and if we work with glue he wants his brush to be clean and not dirty his hands.

Since the beginning of the Term, he has settled into the school routine and is willing to approach most activities eagerly”

Yip, that’s my children there. Feisty and Particular. Just about sums them up perfectly.

Well, off to prepare for the braai (i.e. open the champagne).  Poor Marko has done so much prep work, including patching the blow up paddling pool that he spent two hours setting up and Shelly and Peter annihilated in two seconds. 

Have a lovely Easter, hope the bunny brings you lots of lovely eggs.

PS To Sister Mel – notice how the cycle of abuse continues – all the other girls have pretty swimming costumes and Kate is wearing too small shorts. Just like mom. Poor Kate. At least they are girly shorts.  Could be worse, could be yellow PT shorts from Pep Stores like You Know Who did to me.