There's been a bit of media this week about 'over-parenting.' Are we over-protecting our children and not building resilience, responsibility and respect in them, therefore not allowing them to grow into capable, responsible adults?
I've made my comments in the newspapers, as I have strong views on this issue. As parents, we are our children's 'guides' into life. We show them, guide them, nurture them, educate them and raise them to fly solo when their time is right. For some, they feel invincible at the age of sixteen, ready to take on the world... and that's ok, but for others, they can't stand the thought of leaving home at the age of thirty. Unless there is some physical or mental disability of the thirty year old, the parent has failed at being a parent to that child.
You look at the animal kingdom... dogs, cats, lions, birds, fish, monkeys... they all nurture their offspring and guide them by showing them how to hunt for food, stay away from predators, get their rest, be active and build a nest. Then they let them go and fend for themselves. Humans nurture, feed, protect and hold onto their children, to various degrees, but with the over-abundance of media broadcasts about drug abuse, kidnapping, sexual predators and child abusers, parents find it harder and harder to let their children fly.
And this is not a new thing. My ex-husband is a perfect example of having his wings clipped as a teenager and now struggles to survive and bear the responsibilities on his own. At the age of 16, he was allowed to ride his bike for 10 minutes before he had to report back home. He would ride as far and as fast as he could for 4 minutes, then leisurely cycle back in the 6 minutes. That was the only 'me' time he was allowed, and he was lucky if he had it once a week. He was one of seven children and their upbringing was quite strict. When I first met him at the age of 27, he worked in his mother's cafe and lived rent-free at the back of the cafe while she was paying off his $10,000 credit card debt. When we got hitched, he was more interested in his pipe dream businesses than actually providing an income to look after his family. Now at the age of 47, after we split, he still depends on borrowing his boss or his mother's car when he needs transport, hasn't provided an opportunity for our son's to sleep at his place and doesn't contribute to their financial needs to cover their costs.
He would be a rarity from his generation, but with the post Gen-Y generation, the odds are looking that most the generation will be heavily dependent on their parents for the remainder of their lives.
And you can see that it will be unfair for them. Mortgages will be unattainable as the cost of living sky-rockets, lifestyle becomes more important than saving for our retirement (the 'live everyday like it's your last' attitude), the cost of housing in Australia is currently eleven times that of the average wage, where when our parents were saving for a house, it was only four times the average wage, and the media constantly pushes designer wares, acceptable things to be outraged about, needing therapy and changing careers, so our children are over-exposed to an array of different wants and desires, they can't focus on any goals and stick to them.
So what do we do? We all want the best for our children, and there will be a point that we do have to let them go. It's all about giving them measured steps... measured steps in learning, and measured steps in releasing the hold. But if we know in our heart that we have given them the right tools to know what's right from wrong, how to buy a bus ticket, how to stick to a budget, how to find their way home, how to save for what's important and how to work to make it all happen, then we should have the confidence to set them free.
Monday, 30 April 2012
Sunday, 29 April 2012
A beach side adventure
Today, I've decided to fictionalise a day at the beach we had over summer...
It was a hot summer's day. One where we could enjoy it for what it was without work or school commitments, no house hunting or sports activities, just me and my two boys. The sun was piercing on our sun screened covered skin, the sand burning the soles of our feet. My boys swiftly ran into the sea water to save their burning soles as I was left to de-robe out of my red cami and khaki shorts to reveal my two piece swimwear.
At first the sea water was soothing to my soles and skin, but the more my body's temperature decreased from the touch of the cool salt water lapping at it from each wave, the more I tried to keep more of my body dry. But the waves didn't let up, they wanted to refresh me, refresh me from the searing summer heat, and even though I resisted it, I allowed it. Once it lapped up against my shoulders, I was defeated by the waves in a good way... I had succumbed to its strength to lure me in and simply relax.
The beach we found ourselves at was absolute bliss. A stretch of beautiful white sand speckled with colourful bathing boxes with leafy tree-scapes and cliff faces surrounding the foreshore. Both the sand and the sea were scattered with people enjoying the thirty-seven degree Celsius day, but it wasn't crowded. It was enough to know we had our own space, unlike the stampedes the city beaches were accustomed to on such a magnificent day. It was magical.
My 10 year old red haired hero and my 8 year old cheeky charmer left me behind as they braved the half metre swell of this bayside beach. The sea floor started with rough pebbly shell-encrusted sand and became deeper as we walked on a rocky reef. I caught up quickly with a bouncy ball in my hand so that we could play games in the water. My little one had lost the ability to stand up in the water, so I led him to a sandbank beyond the reef so we could play. The sandbank was amazing. Crystal clear waters, smooth silky sand without a blemish and the water only rose to my waist. It was far away from the beach to feel like we weren't on anyone's toes, but close enough so we could easily get back and keep an eye on our belongings. We had a panoramic view of the breathtaking coastline, a luxury speedboat only one hundred or so metres away from us anchored for fishing and the sweet buzz of jet skis adding an aural contentment to the ambience.
As we positioned ourselves on the sandbank for a game of catch, I stepped on something. Something rough. I looked down and it was a starfish. I pointed it out to the boys, but the waves kept splashing over it making it hard to see. It made us wary about what other things we could step on.
The boys had a ball playing in the waves, dive catching for the ball and doing overthrows and under throws to make each other work to get the ball. Our positions kept moving around the sandbank as the ball went too far to the right or left, or over our heads.
I went for one catch, and my foot tripped over something. That's weird. Why would that be there? I reached under and pulled at it. But it didn't budge. It was a rope attached to the sea floor. How did that get there?
"Hey guys. Come here, look what I've found?"
"What?" they said simultaneously as they ran in slow motion in the water.
As they approached and I didn't need to shout, I told them what I found.
"Who wants to go under and see what it's attached to?" I asked.
"I will!" said my eager ten year old, as he dived under to dig away at the sand for as long as he could hold his breath.
He popped his head up.
"I dug up only a few handfuls and struck something metal. See? Feel with your feet." he said breathlessly.
I put my foot against the edge of where the rope was attached and there was a checker plate flat surface. We tried to clear more of the surface with our feet, but it seemed to be going both wide and long with no end in sight.
"Do you think we should wait until the tide is down to investigate more?" I asked.
"What do you think it could be? my red-head asked.
"I don't know. It could be a secret passageway, some treasure, something illegal."
The curiosity got the better of us, and we decided to stay and watch the tide fall away to get a better chance of tugging at the sea-weed riddled rope to see if the metal will come away from the sea floor.
We waited six hours and watched the sun set over the glistening waves. People had long gone home with only a few stragglers left, walking their dogs along the foreshore. We waited for them to be far enough away as we walked back into the water. We could see the rope swaying amidst the waves, so it would be just the right timing to tug at it to reveal what is beyond.
The three of us went out into the water as the sky turned orange and pink. The sea lapped at our ankles as our toes sunk softly into the sand. We found the rope and the three of us held onto it waiting for the right time. We stood in a tug of war pose, me at the end to take the full brunt. The waves came in, and then went out.
"Go!" I yelled, as we pulled with all our might to lift the metal off the ground. The water came up too quickly for us to make any impact.
We let go, a little breathless waiting for the next chance. We picked up the rope as the tide went back out and pulled again in synch with each other. It moved. But not enough. We knew we had to put a little more oomph into it to make it happen.
"Are you ready guys? We can do it, the biggest pull ever."
"Ok Mum. We're going to do it!" my eager 10 year old said.
"Go!" we pulled and pulled and the metal slid across the sand lifting and flipping over.
It was a piece of rusted metal, like a sign. The other side was embossed with the words "The Seacatcher 1763"
"WOW! Do you know what this could be guys?" I asked my boys.
"What?" they said in harmony, disappointed that there wasn't a gold box or a secret passageway underneath.
"This could be a piece of history. It could re-write our history books. You know Captain Cook found Australia in 1770, well this is from a ship earlier than when he first arrived, in an area that he never came to, and it's in English. An Englishman could have been on our shores before Cook even thought about it."
"What does that mean for us?" my treasure hunter 10 year old asked.
"If we could get this to someone of importance - the police, a historian, someone, we might get a reward for finding something new about Australia's history."
His ears perked up. "A reward?"
"Yes. I have no idea what type of reward, but it would be something. But at the same time, it would be nice just to be recognised to have found this piece of metal. Are you guys OK to stay here while I go call the water police to get them over?"
"Yes Mum. Go call them." my 8 year old said.
I went back to the shore and called the water police. They told me that it wasn't a piece of history, but something else and they told me to leave it alone. I knew my boys would be disappointed.
I went back to them to explain.
"Hey guys, the water police aren't coming?"
"What not? Don't they want the piece of history?" my 8 year old asked.
"No, well it actually isn't a piece of history. It's a prop for a television show they are recording here on the beach tomorrow. The water police knew it was here, and they have told us not to touch it. I'm surprised they left it here all day and night without anyone watching over it."
"Well they should leave things lying around like this. Someone could get hurt." my 10 year old said.
"I know. But at least we had a bit of an adventure. We found out about something we didn't know about, and we did some investigating and got to the bottom of it."
"I guess. We did have fun at the beach all day," my red head said.
"Let's go get some fish n chips to celebrate our fun day," I said.
So we walked up to the beach, grabbed our belongings and walked slowly up the dune to the streets edge and found the fish n chip shop still open ready for my ravaging family to feast on some local seafood. It was a good day... no, it was a great day.
It was a hot summer's day. One where we could enjoy it for what it was without work or school commitments, no house hunting or sports activities, just me and my two boys. The sun was piercing on our sun screened covered skin, the sand burning the soles of our feet. My boys swiftly ran into the sea water to save their burning soles as I was left to de-robe out of my red cami and khaki shorts to reveal my two piece swimwear.
At first the sea water was soothing to my soles and skin, but the more my body's temperature decreased from the touch of the cool salt water lapping at it from each wave, the more I tried to keep more of my body dry. But the waves didn't let up, they wanted to refresh me, refresh me from the searing summer heat, and even though I resisted it, I allowed it. Once it lapped up against my shoulders, I was defeated by the waves in a good way... I had succumbed to its strength to lure me in and simply relax.
The beach we found ourselves at was absolute bliss. A stretch of beautiful white sand speckled with colourful bathing boxes with leafy tree-scapes and cliff faces surrounding the foreshore. Both the sand and the sea were scattered with people enjoying the thirty-seven degree Celsius day, but it wasn't crowded. It was enough to know we had our own space, unlike the stampedes the city beaches were accustomed to on such a magnificent day. It was magical.
My 10 year old red haired hero and my 8 year old cheeky charmer left me behind as they braved the half metre swell of this bayside beach. The sea floor started with rough pebbly shell-encrusted sand and became deeper as we walked on a rocky reef. I caught up quickly with a bouncy ball in my hand so that we could play games in the water. My little one had lost the ability to stand up in the water, so I led him to a sandbank beyond the reef so we could play. The sandbank was amazing. Crystal clear waters, smooth silky sand without a blemish and the water only rose to my waist. It was far away from the beach to feel like we weren't on anyone's toes, but close enough so we could easily get back and keep an eye on our belongings. We had a panoramic view of the breathtaking coastline, a luxury speedboat only one hundred or so metres away from us anchored for fishing and the sweet buzz of jet skis adding an aural contentment to the ambience.
As we positioned ourselves on the sandbank for a game of catch, I stepped on something. Something rough. I looked down and it was a starfish. I pointed it out to the boys, but the waves kept splashing over it making it hard to see. It made us wary about what other things we could step on.
The boys had a ball playing in the waves, dive catching for the ball and doing overthrows and under throws to make each other work to get the ball. Our positions kept moving around the sandbank as the ball went too far to the right or left, or over our heads.
I went for one catch, and my foot tripped over something. That's weird. Why would that be there? I reached under and pulled at it. But it didn't budge. It was a rope attached to the sea floor. How did that get there?
"Hey guys. Come here, look what I've found?"
"What?" they said simultaneously as they ran in slow motion in the water.
As they approached and I didn't need to shout, I told them what I found.
"Who wants to go under and see what it's attached to?" I asked.
"I will!" said my eager ten year old, as he dived under to dig away at the sand for as long as he could hold his breath.
He popped his head up.
"I dug up only a few handfuls and struck something metal. See? Feel with your feet." he said breathlessly.
I put my foot against the edge of where the rope was attached and there was a checker plate flat surface. We tried to clear more of the surface with our feet, but it seemed to be going both wide and long with no end in sight.
"Do you think we should wait until the tide is down to investigate more?" I asked.
"What do you think it could be? my red-head asked.
"I don't know. It could be a secret passageway, some treasure, something illegal."
The curiosity got the better of us, and we decided to stay and watch the tide fall away to get a better chance of tugging at the sea-weed riddled rope to see if the metal will come away from the sea floor.
We waited six hours and watched the sun set over the glistening waves. People had long gone home with only a few stragglers left, walking their dogs along the foreshore. We waited for them to be far enough away as we walked back into the water. We could see the rope swaying amidst the waves, so it would be just the right timing to tug at it to reveal what is beyond.
The three of us went out into the water as the sky turned orange and pink. The sea lapped at our ankles as our toes sunk softly into the sand. We found the rope and the three of us held onto it waiting for the right time. We stood in a tug of war pose, me at the end to take the full brunt. The waves came in, and then went out.
"Go!" I yelled, as we pulled with all our might to lift the metal off the ground. The water came up too quickly for us to make any impact.
We let go, a little breathless waiting for the next chance. We picked up the rope as the tide went back out and pulled again in synch with each other. It moved. But not enough. We knew we had to put a little more oomph into it to make it happen.
"Are you ready guys? We can do it, the biggest pull ever."
"Ok Mum. We're going to do it!" my eager 10 year old said.
"Go!" we pulled and pulled and the metal slid across the sand lifting and flipping over.
It was a piece of rusted metal, like a sign. The other side was embossed with the words "The Seacatcher 1763"
"WOW! Do you know what this could be guys?" I asked my boys.
"What?" they said in harmony, disappointed that there wasn't a gold box or a secret passageway underneath.
"This could be a piece of history. It could re-write our history books. You know Captain Cook found Australia in 1770, well this is from a ship earlier than when he first arrived, in an area that he never came to, and it's in English. An Englishman could have been on our shores before Cook even thought about it."
"What does that mean for us?" my treasure hunter 10 year old asked.
"If we could get this to someone of importance - the police, a historian, someone, we might get a reward for finding something new about Australia's history."
His ears perked up. "A reward?"
"Yes. I have no idea what type of reward, but it would be something. But at the same time, it would be nice just to be recognised to have found this piece of metal. Are you guys OK to stay here while I go call the water police to get them over?"
"Yes Mum. Go call them." my 8 year old said.
I went back to the shore and called the water police. They told me that it wasn't a piece of history, but something else and they told me to leave it alone. I knew my boys would be disappointed.
I went back to them to explain.
"Hey guys, the water police aren't coming?"
"What not? Don't they want the piece of history?" my 8 year old asked.
"No, well it actually isn't a piece of history. It's a prop for a television show they are recording here on the beach tomorrow. The water police knew it was here, and they have told us not to touch it. I'm surprised they left it here all day and night without anyone watching over it."
"Well they should leave things lying around like this. Someone could get hurt." my 10 year old said.
"I know. But at least we had a bit of an adventure. We found out about something we didn't know about, and we did some investigating and got to the bottom of it."
"I guess. We did have fun at the beach all day," my red head said.
"Let's go get some fish n chips to celebrate our fun day," I said.
So we walked up to the beach, grabbed our belongings and walked slowly up the dune to the streets edge and found the fish n chip shop still open ready for my ravaging family to feast on some local seafood. It was a good day... no, it was a great day.
Thursday, 26 April 2012
The Pre-Camp Conversation
As my boys sat around waiting for me to get myself ready for my working day today, they played a game of black jack. I said to my 8 year old, who, mind you, was having a great run of luck, that he should take his playing cards to camp and teach his mates the game. He was excited about the prospect, so I threw in a pack of 'Chicken in a Biscuit' savoury crackers for him to have a midnight snack with his card game on camp.
My ten year old said "No Mum, you're not allowed food in the cabins."
"Really?" I said, "What happens if the food is horrible and your brother's hungry?
"Well, from my previous camps, I just know they won't let you have it."
"Well, he can still have it on the bus. Share them with his mates."
"I guess." my 10 year old said defeated.
"You eat them whenever you want, ok? And share them with your friends." I said to my 8 year old.
So as I sit here with one less son in the house I imagine him on a bed with a couple of mates playing a game of Black Jack eating his crackers with a few torches to keep the light on the cards and the teachers unaware of an underage gambling syndicate going on under their supervision. Now, that's what childhood memories are made from!
My ten year old said "No Mum, you're not allowed food in the cabins."
"Really?" I said, "What happens if the food is horrible and your brother's hungry?
"Well, from my previous camps, I just know they won't let you have it."
"Well, he can still have it on the bus. Share them with his mates."
"I guess." my 10 year old said defeated.
"You eat them whenever you want, ok? And share them with your friends." I said to my 8 year old.
So as I sit here with one less son in the house I imagine him on a bed with a couple of mates playing a game of Black Jack eating his crackers with a few torches to keep the light on the cards and the teachers unaware of an underage gambling syndicate going on under their supervision. Now, that's what childhood memories are made from!
Tuesday, 24 April 2012
Off to School Camp
My 8 year old will be going to his first school camp tomorrow. He is super excited and can't wait to have his first night of independence away from family to bunk down with his mates and have a taste of freedom.
For me, I worry that I haven't prepared him well enough to be his own person. He still struggles to tie his own shoelaces, but is showing signs that he's getting there. He still needs to be reminded to brush his teeth and eat everything on his plate. He still needs help to turn the shower on, but I've explained to him every shower is different. And the weather is just going to be foul, so I don't know if he has the understanding that he needs to put on wet-weather gear, and if he does get wet, he needs to change his clothes rather than sit in them and get sick.
My 8 year old also has speech and learning difficulties. He struggles to be able to communicate exactly what he needs to say, and reading things, like menus and instructions will prove difficult for him.
But we've travelled enough now for him to understand that he needs to look after his belongings, keep them all in one place (his suitcase!) and put things back when he's finished with them. We haven't packed his bag yet, but he knows there's a list to stick to and we can't go beyond the list.
I must admit, I probably don't give him enough credit. He's a beautiful little boy who's very capable when he puts his head to it and I do put him in situations that he hates to do, but makes him grow... things like ordering his own food at the hockey canteen (and getting the change!), being responsible for his own bags when we travel and not expecting me to carry them for him... things like that.
I'm sure he'll have a fabulous time and he'll be fine. His teachers know his limitations. At this age, it's only a one night camp. At his school, as each year level progresses, they add an extra night to their school camps, so it's a slowly progressing off-leash to freedom.
He'll be home on Friday to tell me all about it.
For me, I worry that I haven't prepared him well enough to be his own person. He still struggles to tie his own shoelaces, but is showing signs that he's getting there. He still needs to be reminded to brush his teeth and eat everything on his plate. He still needs help to turn the shower on, but I've explained to him every shower is different. And the weather is just going to be foul, so I don't know if he has the understanding that he needs to put on wet-weather gear, and if he does get wet, he needs to change his clothes rather than sit in them and get sick.
My 8 year old also has speech and learning difficulties. He struggles to be able to communicate exactly what he needs to say, and reading things, like menus and instructions will prove difficult for him.
But we've travelled enough now for him to understand that he needs to look after his belongings, keep them all in one place (his suitcase!) and put things back when he's finished with them. We haven't packed his bag yet, but he knows there's a list to stick to and we can't go beyond the list.
I must admit, I probably don't give him enough credit. He's a beautiful little boy who's very capable when he puts his head to it and I do put him in situations that he hates to do, but makes him grow... things like ordering his own food at the hockey canteen (and getting the change!), being responsible for his own bags when we travel and not expecting me to carry them for him... things like that.
I'm sure he'll have a fabulous time and he'll be fine. His teachers know his limitations. At this age, it's only a one night camp. At his school, as each year level progresses, they add an extra night to their school camps, so it's a slowly progressing off-leash to freedom.
He'll be home on Friday to tell me all about it.
Friday, 20 April 2012
A Little Too Much Chocolate at Easter
I know this post is a little late, but I feel compelled to tell about an adventure I took my boys on over Easter.
I wanted to take the boys on a day trip somewhere and discovered a place in the middle of Victoria that claimed to have the best hot chocolate in the State. I LOVE my hot chocolates, so I thought what perfect timing to see if they live up to what they claim. The place is called 'The Chocolate Mill' and it's located in Mt Franklin... the same Mt Franklin that the bottled water is named after.
Mt Franklin is about a 2 hour drive from where we live in the heart of some of Victoria's most beautiful countryside. There are natural springs around the place, and it's close to Daylesford, Trentham and Castlemaine... some of the most historic and romantic towns found inland in our state. Our trusty Sat Nav directed us to The Chocolate Mill with ease, and found it to be quite popular with others on a sunny Easter Saturday.
There were two sections to the Mill - the cafe and the chocolate shop with the attached factory. As soon as we arrived, we were eager to have 'the best hot chocolate in the State', so we went up to the cafe and ordered. I was determined to have my hot chocolate, but my boys weren't as much so. There was a choice of hot chocolates - a dark chocolate hot chocolate, a milk chocolate hot chocolate, a white chocolate hot chocolate and a chilli chocolate hot chocolate. I went for the standard milk chocolate version, while my boys opted for their deliciously smooth chocolate ice-cream with melted white chocolate on top.
I wanted to take the boys on a day trip somewhere and discovered a place in the middle of Victoria that claimed to have the best hot chocolate in the State. I LOVE my hot chocolates, so I thought what perfect timing to see if they live up to what they claim. The place is called 'The Chocolate Mill' and it's located in Mt Franklin... the same Mt Franklin that the bottled water is named after.
Mt Franklin is about a 2 hour drive from where we live in the heart of some of Victoria's most beautiful countryside. There are natural springs around the place, and it's close to Daylesford, Trentham and Castlemaine... some of the most historic and romantic towns found inland in our state. Our trusty Sat Nav directed us to The Chocolate Mill with ease, and found it to be quite popular with others on a sunny Easter Saturday.
There were two sections to the Mill - the cafe and the chocolate shop with the attached factory. As soon as we arrived, we were eager to have 'the best hot chocolate in the State', so we went up to the cafe and ordered. I was determined to have my hot chocolate, but my boys weren't as much so. There was a choice of hot chocolates - a dark chocolate hot chocolate, a milk chocolate hot chocolate, a white chocolate hot chocolate and a chilli chocolate hot chocolate. I went for the standard milk chocolate version, while my boys opted for their deliciously smooth chocolate ice-cream with melted white chocolate on top.
Our gastronomic delights arrived, and the beautiful rich textures were just mmmmmm :)
The hot chocolate was made of chocolate buttons and milk, and you needed to stir the chocolate buttons to blend in with the milk to get the full benefit of the 'best hot chocolate in town.' For me, I don't think my milk was warm enough to claim it to be the best in the state. (Sorry Chocolate Mill)
After the boys finished their scrumptious looking ice-cream, my oldest son said that the ice-cream made him feel cold, and asked too, if he could have a hot chocolate. I said it was fine, so he went off to order himself one.
His arrived, and he stirred it well, out rivalling the hot chocolate I received... his was far more superior (as I had to have a taste to see if there was a difference) and it definitely deserved such a celebrated title. He loved it, and understandably.
We finished our chocolate feast and decided to go into the chocolate shop to see what we could purchase to take home. As we entered, one of the chocolatiers said that they were about to perform a demonstration on how they make chocolate. We stood in front of a window, shortest people closest to the window, taller at the back. The boys went in close to see how the chocolate lady formed the chocolate while the male chocolatier talked about the quality of the Belgian chocolate they used, the shelf life of the chocolate and where you can buy their chocolate. It was chocolate, chocolate, chocolate.
Half way through the presentation, my oldest son came up to me quietly and said 'Mum, I'm going to be sick.' So I grabbed my two boys, trying to dodge the twenty or so people crowded around the little window, and before we made it out the door, it all came up. He got it all over the entry floor, over the plastic door fringe (that stops the insects flying in), and the restrooms were located on the other side of the cafe, so it wasn't a good idea to have him vomiting in front of paying customers, so I took him outside the main entrance and made him complete emptying his stomach on the rock garden next to the entrance. A great look for those who were excited about tasting their beautiful chocolates.
He had soaked his sleeve with vomit and I didn't have a change of clothes for him. I asked the staff if they had any t-shirts for sale... Of course they did... and they all said the one thing... "Born chocoholic." Perfectly ironic for someone who has had too much.
So we left the Chocolate Mill kind of swiftly out of embarrassment more than desire. As we quietly drove the undulating hills, we took a wrong turn and found ourselves at Trentham Falls. A gorgeous little waterfall in the middle of nowhere... a place to get some fresh air and get some balance into my big boy's body.
It's amazing what the body does, but somehow, it just didn't stop him gorging himself with chocolate on Easter Sunday... but luckily, none of that chocolate came up!
PS: as a disclaimer for the Chocolate Mill, their chocolates are amazing, but the richness was way too strong for my son's tummy. It's chocolate to saviour and enjoy one piece at a time, not like supermarket chocolate that can be consumed by the bucket load and have no effect. Their quality speaks volumes. I'll definitely be back, but I will make sure my kids don't eat themselves silly. Sorry for the mess.
Friends
I will admit, I have never felt the benefits of true friendship, and not so true friendship than I have over past few years. A divorce can really sort out the truth behind your friendships and relationships in general.
But I'm here today to celebrate the beauty of friendship. Like anything, children, sports, musical favourites... divorce too can give you a common bond with friends. They become your biggest support when no one else knows what it's like to go through it. I have had some amazing friends support me over the last couple of years... some who have been through a divorce and remarried or repartnered, others who have contemplated ending their marriage but see the hope within it to keep carrying on.
I have not felt a love or willingness to help me as much as I have over the past two years. Friends who are willing to listen to my ordeals, speak their mind if they feel that I'm going on a tangent, but generally support my decisions in the way I go about choosing to live my life. All judgement is thrown out the window, because they sincerely care and want to help my boys and me. I've been included in their families for Christmas lunch, I've had friends race over to help me move furniture, I've had a few drunken moments to lighten the load, but most of all, I've shared hugs, tears and some fabulous times with some amazing people.
For all my friends, near and far, I thank you for being everything I'd always wanted in a friend but never had until my late thirties. I thank you for your selflessness, making time for me around your busy schedules and your unconditional support. If only I could get you all in one room - friends in the UK, friends in the US, friends interstate and friends who are local, just to give you all a collective heart and show my appreciation.
(well if I can get a book published and put on a best-sellers list, maybe we can have a collective celebration one day and I will fly you all to a fabulous party at one of my favourite places).
But I'm here today to celebrate the beauty of friendship. Like anything, children, sports, musical favourites... divorce too can give you a common bond with friends. They become your biggest support when no one else knows what it's like to go through it. I have had some amazing friends support me over the last couple of years... some who have been through a divorce and remarried or repartnered, others who have contemplated ending their marriage but see the hope within it to keep carrying on.
I have not felt a love or willingness to help me as much as I have over the past two years. Friends who are willing to listen to my ordeals, speak their mind if they feel that I'm going on a tangent, but generally support my decisions in the way I go about choosing to live my life. All judgement is thrown out the window, because they sincerely care and want to help my boys and me. I've been included in their families for Christmas lunch, I've had friends race over to help me move furniture, I've had a few drunken moments to lighten the load, but most of all, I've shared hugs, tears and some fabulous times with some amazing people.
For all my friends, near and far, I thank you for being everything I'd always wanted in a friend but never had until my late thirties. I thank you for your selflessness, making time for me around your busy schedules and your unconditional support. If only I could get you all in one room - friends in the UK, friends in the US, friends interstate and friends who are local, just to give you all a collective heart and show my appreciation.
(well if I can get a book published and put on a best-sellers list, maybe we can have a collective celebration one day and I will fly you all to a fabulous party at one of my favourite places).
Monday, 9 April 2012
Being the Threat!
I read the article last week by Samantha Brick about how being beautiful can be a blessing sometimes, but also how it can also be your demise with your same-gendered peers. http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2124246/Samantha-Brick-downsides-looking-pretty-Why-women-hate-beautiful.html?ito=feeds-newsxml (for you to all know where I'm coming from!)
I had dinner with a fellow single mum yesterday and discussed the points she brought up, to see if she felt that way within our community.
After you split with your life partner (well, supposed 'life partner'), you are torn between which friends will take your side. It's a decision you can't make - the friends are the ones who make that choice. You lose a part of your family that you either loved or loathed, but as a single female, you become the bigger threat. While you were together at parties, there was always the innocent flirting at parties with your friends or sibling's partners, which meant nothing when you were attached, but now it is a completely different story. As a single woman, you have nothing to lose, but your friends and siblings now feel that you are a threat to their very existence, as they think back to the times that you had a quiet conversation with their husbands, or drunkenly gave their husband an extra big hug and their jealousy consumed them. So now, you get invited to nothing. NOTHING!! Even though you have absolutely no intentions of ruining their lives, have no attraction to their husbands and literally just want your friends and family to support you in your time of need. But then, you soon realise that they weren't real friends at all, if they can't be there for you as you go through such a harrowing time.
My friend was telling me how much she loved her ex's family, and how much they loved her. And she really misses them. And that after she found out that her ex cheated on her, and his family kept telling her that he desperately wanted her back, she instinctively knew that it was 'them' who wanted her back, and that his philandering ways were still going and she couldn't ever go back to rebuilding that trust with him.
I must admit, I do have one friend who has been in my shoes, and has a couple of us single mums who get invited to everything, because she knows how it feels. And I am so thankful that she is in my life. :) But most of my friends in the school community have washed their hands of me... gone are the times that I get invited to their house for a casual catch up and gone are the days that my kids get invited to their home... as they know that I get along with their husbands as well as them, and I am literally a threat! And what you do find, is that the single mums band together because no one else wants you, and when you do catch up with family who are all partnered off, they tell you off for being involved with so many other divorcees because 'you're becoming one of them.' News flash: I AM ONE OF THEM!! You get support from those who understand exactly the predicament you're going through, something they will never understand, unless they go through it themselves.
But I'm not only a threat because of my marital status... I am also a threat because I take care of my appearance on a daily basis, I have an energy that they just don't portray as a stay-at-home housewife, I am something that they were once, but not anymore. And I am a little open with my sexuality, but use that with immense discretion. Is it jealousy? Or are they uncomfortable within their own marriage that I might just whisk their partners into something that they can't offer their husbands anymore?
But that's the thing... the point of my blog really is to allow ALL women to be better within themselves and not to succumb to the labels that being a wife, mother, domestic goddess or provider entails. It's to empower women to also be something for themselves. But so many get stuck in the drudgery of mundaneness and can't think of something exciting or adventurous to do with their partners or family.
For me, I'm not interested in any of my friend's or sibling's husband or partner. I am a one man woman, and my heart is attached to one. That's how I'm built. My friend who invites me to her parties and family events, knows this, knows that I'm not a threat to her relationship. And that's why I love her... for accepting who I am.
But, through all this 'working out who your friends are', you soon know what's right for you. What you need to do for yourself and your kids to be better and be above their pettiness.
I understand what Samantha Brick is going through. And she's married! She made some valid points, maybe didn't get them across the right way, but I know where she's coming from. Women are bitchy - silently to your face, noisily behind your back. And it's so much more obvious in the school grounds than anywhere else, but if you had a close knit group of friends when you were married, it can also be just as attacking there.
I had dinner with a fellow single mum yesterday and discussed the points she brought up, to see if she felt that way within our community.
After you split with your life partner (well, supposed 'life partner'), you are torn between which friends will take your side. It's a decision you can't make - the friends are the ones who make that choice. You lose a part of your family that you either loved or loathed, but as a single female, you become the bigger threat. While you were together at parties, there was always the innocent flirting at parties with your friends or sibling's partners, which meant nothing when you were attached, but now it is a completely different story. As a single woman, you have nothing to lose, but your friends and siblings now feel that you are a threat to their very existence, as they think back to the times that you had a quiet conversation with their husbands, or drunkenly gave their husband an extra big hug and their jealousy consumed them. So now, you get invited to nothing. NOTHING!! Even though you have absolutely no intentions of ruining their lives, have no attraction to their husbands and literally just want your friends and family to support you in your time of need. But then, you soon realise that they weren't real friends at all, if they can't be there for you as you go through such a harrowing time.
My friend was telling me how much she loved her ex's family, and how much they loved her. And she really misses them. And that after she found out that her ex cheated on her, and his family kept telling her that he desperately wanted her back, she instinctively knew that it was 'them' who wanted her back, and that his philandering ways were still going and she couldn't ever go back to rebuilding that trust with him.
I must admit, I do have one friend who has been in my shoes, and has a couple of us single mums who get invited to everything, because she knows how it feels. And I am so thankful that she is in my life. :) But most of my friends in the school community have washed their hands of me... gone are the times that I get invited to their house for a casual catch up and gone are the days that my kids get invited to their home... as they know that I get along with their husbands as well as them, and I am literally a threat! And what you do find, is that the single mums band together because no one else wants you, and when you do catch up with family who are all partnered off, they tell you off for being involved with so many other divorcees because 'you're becoming one of them.' News flash: I AM ONE OF THEM!! You get support from those who understand exactly the predicament you're going through, something they will never understand, unless they go through it themselves.
But I'm not only a threat because of my marital status... I am also a threat because I take care of my appearance on a daily basis, I have an energy that they just don't portray as a stay-at-home housewife, I am something that they were once, but not anymore. And I am a little open with my sexuality, but use that with immense discretion. Is it jealousy? Or are they uncomfortable within their own marriage that I might just whisk their partners into something that they can't offer their husbands anymore?
But that's the thing... the point of my blog really is to allow ALL women to be better within themselves and not to succumb to the labels that being a wife, mother, domestic goddess or provider entails. It's to empower women to also be something for themselves. But so many get stuck in the drudgery of mundaneness and can't think of something exciting or adventurous to do with their partners or family.
For me, I'm not interested in any of my friend's or sibling's husband or partner. I am a one man woman, and my heart is attached to one. That's how I'm built. My friend who invites me to her parties and family events, knows this, knows that I'm not a threat to her relationship. And that's why I love her... for accepting who I am.
But, through all this 'working out who your friends are', you soon know what's right for you. What you need to do for yourself and your kids to be better and be above their pettiness.
I understand what Samantha Brick is going through. And she's married! She made some valid points, maybe didn't get them across the right way, but I know where she's coming from. Women are bitchy - silently to your face, noisily behind your back. And it's so much more obvious in the school grounds than anywhere else, but if you had a close knit group of friends when you were married, it can also be just as attacking there.
Tuesday, 3 April 2012
The Advent of the Divorce Expo
New York is holding it's first Divorce Expo. It's called the 'Start Over Smart' expo, designed to empower those going through divorce to move on. The founders, a mother and daughter team, went to one in Paris, and thought that it was something that Americans dearly needed to have. As there is a billion dollar industry in wedding expos - parading around everything from dresses, to honeymoon destinations, to wedding cakes, reception centres and everything in between, they thought, why isn't there a divorce expo? After all, we do spend more money on divorces than we do a wedding, and our self-esteem is at it's lowest while we go through a divorce, so why not create an expo that helps people get through such a horrific ordeal?
I agree... the lack of support from professionals, family and friends that have never gone through the situation personally is more heartbreaking than losing a partner. Lawyers do everything to take your money, your friends don't want to know you because you're 'not a couple' anymore, and your family don't want your bad luck rubbing off on them. You need to find your own way, because there is no rule book to guide you, and then the only help you get, is from friends who have been or a going through the situation, and all those who haven't gone through a divorce label you as 'one of those.' They say that you're stuck in the negativity of what you're going through and you're really not a nice person to be around, so we won't be there for you.
And it is a horrible time. For me, as the one who instigated the separation, it was empowering being able to have the courage to leave him. And that empowerment lasted about six months, where I was able to become my own person again. Then it was the ugliness of legal letters, mediation, court battles and trying to protect your children when the law refuses to protect them for you. Australian Family Law is truly about equal rights to parenting, even though there was never any equality in the marriage, or even after the marriage split when there has been no interest from the other side to want legal custody... but the law forces it upon you anyway. It's such an injustice.
The Start Over Smart Expo covers everything from lawyers, psychologists, making yourself look good again, financial advice, plastic surgeons and even those who offer reconciliation services for those who think there maybe a glimmer of opportunity to get back together again. They also had a single's lounge for those interested in finding a new mate amongst the other future divorcees.
The founders said that they don't advocate divorce, but they do want to advocate supporting those who feel helpless in a time when they need as much support as they possible will ever need in their lifetime. Show them that there is life after marriage and it's a chance to do all the things you want to do and not be led down a path of your past partner's interests and your common bond (generally, your family). As, for most, that is possibly the hardest part to overcome.
I agree... the lack of support from professionals, family and friends that have never gone through the situation personally is more heartbreaking than losing a partner. Lawyers do everything to take your money, your friends don't want to know you because you're 'not a couple' anymore, and your family don't want your bad luck rubbing off on them. You need to find your own way, because there is no rule book to guide you, and then the only help you get, is from friends who have been or a going through the situation, and all those who haven't gone through a divorce label you as 'one of those.' They say that you're stuck in the negativity of what you're going through and you're really not a nice person to be around, so we won't be there for you.
And it is a horrible time. For me, as the one who instigated the separation, it was empowering being able to have the courage to leave him. And that empowerment lasted about six months, where I was able to become my own person again. Then it was the ugliness of legal letters, mediation, court battles and trying to protect your children when the law refuses to protect them for you. Australian Family Law is truly about equal rights to parenting, even though there was never any equality in the marriage, or even after the marriage split when there has been no interest from the other side to want legal custody... but the law forces it upon you anyway. It's such an injustice.
The Start Over Smart Expo covers everything from lawyers, psychologists, making yourself look good again, financial advice, plastic surgeons and even those who offer reconciliation services for those who think there maybe a glimmer of opportunity to get back together again. They also had a single's lounge for those interested in finding a new mate amongst the other future divorcees.
The founders said that they don't advocate divorce, but they do want to advocate supporting those who feel helpless in a time when they need as much support as they possible will ever need in their lifetime. Show them that there is life after marriage and it's a chance to do all the things you want to do and not be led down a path of your past partner's interests and your common bond (generally, your family). As, for most, that is possibly the hardest part to overcome.
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