oh baby baby – bringing up the next generation

My daughter’s school friend (we’re talking private skool gurls, dahling) got her first car recently. A VW convertible. New. For god’s sake, are these parents serious?

I can’t talk I suppose. My first car was a convertible too. A Mini Moke. It was a slightly battered little beast of a thing, handed down from my older brother, who’d bought some whopping, throbbing… motorbike.

That Moke took me from Sydney to Newcastle, Canberra, Brisbane, the Outback… I was always on the road to somewhere, mostly with a moke-load of mates. These were road trips to end all road trips… all done at what felt like a ripping pace thanks to the furiously flapping canvas cover. Except they took forever. The journey was the thing…

Yes, it was a bit dodgy in the rain. And parents these days would be horrified about their daughters taking such an insecure beast of a machine out at night, on long lonely roads, sometimes alone – and without a mobile phone.

But a VW convertible? Now there’s a high maintenance woman in the making. Why do we do it to our kids? How are they going to cope with the reality that they can’t – and usually don’t – get everything they want?

As parents, we need to learn the ‘no’ word. And use it. Often. Without backing down, without listening to the pleading and considering the poor darlings feelings about being the odd one out. That’s called character building.

My daughter had a bit of a whinge about the heap of junk her dad bought as a shared first car for her and his stepson. She said it would be so embarrassing turning up at school where all her friends had sports cars and convertibles.

My response: Oh well. It’s wheels and it’s free. Be graceful and accept the gift gratefully. Besides, it’s kinda retro (she said nostalgically).

Now she’s driven it a bit, she’s loving driving… And after she drove it to school, I noticed a slight change in attitude (I quite like the shape of it, mum. It goes really well, mum).

Apparently, her friends all admire her retro cool. Gee, who would’ve thought?

Elle x

too busy to write…

Writing – or the avoidance of it – is a full-time activity. I think wannabe (ahem, let’s be kind to ourselves and call it ’struggling’) writers have really clean houses, and lots of things ticked off their list every day – except the ‘writing’ one. Which after a while, we don’t bother adding to the list because, well, avoidance has moved quietly into denial.

And denial is evil. It’s the voice in your head that whispers (well, shouting would be too obvious, wouldn’t it):

• You have more important things to do. Yes, a tidy house is important. Don’t we all want that on our headstones? “She kept a tidy home. May she RIP (because she needs it).”
• Your client/boss has an emergency job that has to be done. yesterday. And you’ve forgotten that lovely response: “Lack of planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on my part”
• Your kids/husband/mother/great aunt dot needs attention
• Your dog needs to be walked. Your cat needs a kidney transplant
• The shopping has to be done or we’ll starve. Because nobody else in the house can grocery shop like you
• It’s christmas. You need to deck the halls, spend ridiculous amounts of money on things no-one wants or, if they do, will be broken by New Year, and you need to buy tons of food for the big Christmas feast and the long holiday (um, the shops only close for Christmas…)
• You have no RIGHT to spent quality time on you. What do you think this is? YOUR life?

I’m sure you’ve got a few to add to the list… you’re welcome! We need to out these crazy thoughts so we can do something about it.

Clearly, I’m way too busy to write. Which is why I did. Go grrrrl!!

ciao

Elle

Postcard from Nepal (and Bangkok)…

Namaste y’all,

Annapurnas, Nepal

26/10/08: We’ve just emerged from the clouds! Trekking in the Annapurnas was an absolute blast – especially because the pace was surprisingly civilized…

Of  course, EB (aka Energizer Bunny) was hopping from one foot to the other the whole time.

We had a great group…mostly slightly older than us (and, thank god, not out to prove they were Thooper Thtars!). EB was the social lubricant, as always (possibly because the rest of us were actually gasping for breath most of the time). 
 
At one of the villages, we found some open space and challenged ’the boys’ (porters and guides) to a game of cricket… with a bit of wood and a ball made of something wrapped in plastic bags and held together with string! The only problem was that a ’six’ required a jungle safari and sharp eyes to retrieve the ball.

On the last night, we rocked the (tea)house ’til the wee hours with the porters (a very gorgeous bunch, i might add). It’s amazing what fun you can have with one drum, some dodgy whisky, and a bunch of crazy people.
 
One bloke in our group said ‘and Elle wants to take three of you boys home for her daughters’…which guaranteed I was never short of dancing partners We had people from the village turning up to see what was going on and joining the party…  

Nepal’s scenery is spectacular, the people are delightful, and the food is mostly vegetarian. What more can I say?
 
Bangkok (our first four days) was another story. A huge, humid, smelly city were a tuk tuk ride is a journey to anywhere – except where you want to go. Mostly tailors who make you suit for cheap price or out-of-the-way boat sheds where a business associate was ready and waiting to take you on special charter boat with bonus snake park visit.  
 
But we did love the night markets and had a great time bargaining with the locals. Lots of laughs. The market we went to was in the red light district, and every few steps I got asked to go to a Ping Pong show (note to self: dress like a girl next time).

They take pole dancing to whole new levels in Bangkok… the bars are lined with poles (every couple of feet) with a very gorgeous and very bored girl on each, gyrating half-heartedly for the slavering tourists.
 
Apart from the markets, Bangkok’s shopping centres are huuuuuge. One Aussie shopping centre would fit on one floor, and there are seven! EB spent wonderous hours looking at defects (QA and H&S is non existent there!), while I walked around in a catatonic state and bought nothing. No surprises there  
 
We’re hanging out in Pokara (Nepal) today while some lovely people wash our clothes (I could get used to this!). Tonight is our end of trip party (another one). And tomorrow, we head into the jungle to look for four-legged wild life…
 
Of course, we can’t wait to get home and back to work. Not. 
 
Elle and EB  (aka Road Runner…mee meep)

Moving out…

My ‘baby’ has left home. Well, she’s 20, but these days that’s pretty amazing! I can see the change in her already. I remember leaving home and those first tentative steps towards being ‘grown up’. The fear and the delicious sense of freedom. I’m so excited for her!

I also feel a tiny bit of sadness. Even with four other kids still at home, there’s a gap in the house just about her size…

We’ve brought our kids up to be independent – to get out on their own, be their own person, pay their own bills… But there’s been times we’ve really believed none of them would ever leave. After all, it’s not exactly uncommon these days for ‘kids’ to stay at home until they’re into their third decade and more.

I have a niece and nephew who both lived at home well into their 30s – and whose spouses moved in with them after the wedding. Actually, they still haven’t really left home.

As parents, we’re so busy making excuses for our kids and being ‘understanding’. Rents are too high, everything’s too expensive, it’s just too hard. Well, back in the day when most self-respecting kids were out of home at 16 or 17, it wasn’t exactly easy either. But it was easier than living by mum and dad’s rules.

Why would kids leave home now? They have all the comforts they’ve come to expect - they get fed and cleaned up after, rent’s cheap (if it exists at all), they can come and go as they please (because they’re grown up, apparently), and they’re usually allowed to have their girlfriend or boyfriend sleep over (or move in!). (Trust me, it’s no different in our house!)

My stepson said he watched a TV program that urged kids to stay at home longer and save money so they could buy a house. So he’s decided that’s a great idea. I’ve got a better idea – why don’t kids leave home so their parents can pay off their own mortgage?

Don’t get me wrong… we adore our kids. We have a great relationship, they talk to us about everything (there are some things we’d rather not know!!), they all get on with each other. But it’s because we love them that we encourage them to leave.

There are some things more important than money, owning your own home, having everything you want when you want it. There are things like independence – and making sacrifices to get it. Doing it tough and gaining a sense of self. And learning that things that come easy aren’t usually valued as highly.

So I’m proud of my girl. And I’m glad she’s got friends who want to be independent too. I know it’s not going to be easy for her, but she knows she has family backing her up all the way. And a few siblings eager to follow in her footsteps…

I can see EB and me rattlin’ round in this big ol’ house sooner than we expected

Elle