Etiquette? Yes, please!

Yesterday, I was picking up a few things from the supermarket (which always ends up as a trolley-load, because once a week is enough for some things!). It’s a strange place, with big columns in the middle of aisles, so a bit of etiquette goes a long way as we all maneouvre our way around.

Did someone say ‘etiquette’? One lady had parked her trolley right next to the column, while she did a bit of brand comparison. She appeared oblivious to the pileup she was causing as she meditated upon the tins of tuna. And I was the first in line.

“Excuse me…” I said, softly, so I didn’t alarm her. No response.

“Excuse me…” Louder this time, but still politely (trolley rage is not my thing!). I mean, she could’ve been deaf, right?

This time she looked around, looked me up and down and said, “Yes?”

“Could you move your trolley so I can get past, please?”

Well, she reacted as if I’d asked her to donate a kidney. She huffed, muttered “sorr-eee”, and moved her trolley just enough so we could all squeeze past. Did I say trolley-rage isn’t my thing. I lied.

When did “excuse me” (delivered respectfully) become an offensive phrase? And what do you do in situations where you need to get passed, and someone won’t budge a single centimetre? If you push, you get snarled at. If you say “excuse me” you get the same response.

I read recently that etiquette schools are taking off in Brisbane. I’m sure it’s happening elsewhere – and not before time. Kids are being taught to use a knife and fork, and learn ‘table’ manners – among other things. You might wonder, like I do, why this doesn’t seem to fall under ‘parenting’ these days?

I’d like to add “excuse me” to the etiquette curriculum…along with:

•  language lessons in “please”, “thank you”,  “sorry” and “you’re welcome”
• Sending RSVPs when they’re asked for, by the date on the invitation (not the day/night of the event). Oh, and actually turning up or at least advising the host if something’s come up…
• Sending a brief, handwritten “thank you” note or even a quick email when someone mails you a gift (so at the very least, they know you’ve received it), and
• Being spatially aware, especially when walking (four abreast is not pathway-savvy behaviour) or walking on bikeways (and if you do, not getting upset when someone tells you to get off the bikeway – it is for your own safety after all!).

These are really all simple acts of respect for others that seem to have dropped off the radar.

Yes! Bring back etiquette training… and possibly extend it beyond ‘kids’, because they’re not the only ones who’ve forgotten (or never learnt) the simple art of manners.

Perhaps actually sitting at the dinner table to eat would be a good start. With the television off. 

Did I mention I’m in training myself – for being a grumpy old woman… fun.

elle x

 

*image source: freeimages.co.uk

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

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

On the trail again…

I’m about to head off on another adventure for a month. This time we’ll be trekking in Nepal, doing ‘the triangle’ in India, and going on safari through the Chitwan Jungle (which apparently involves riding elephants and possible tiger sitings – hopefully not because tigers like to eat elephants or – um – tourists!).

It’s been such a crazy year (talk about blowing New Year resolutions!) that my lovely partner and I are well and truly ready for a holiday. I must say, I’d be even more enthusiastic if I wasn’t leaving teenage+ kids at home who are likely to rock the ‘burbs as soon as we’re out of shouting range.

When I used to joke that I’d probably leave home before my kids did, I really didn’t think it would be true. But that’s a whole other topic. Right now, I’m trying to get my head around trekking for up to seven hours a day!

Which makes those elephants look damn good…

ciao for now

Elle

christmas holiday resolutions

The Christmas holiday has begun.

I haven’t finished my first draft. I have two short stories to finish. I have a cold – it’s going well so far.

Today I sat my children down and explained to them how things would work over the next two months. I will be working (hopefully on the writing and not improving my mahjong time) from 9am till 11am each morning. During that time they will amuse themselves with play, not come into the office to ask for food or drinks, try not to kill each other, and generally ‘be good’. They responded with a blank stare (the four year old) and a dinosaur roar (the seven year old – we’re hoping it’s a phase).

So that’s my Christmas holiday resolution – get tough with children (I used to amuse myself for hours with only twigs, dirt and a younger brother don’t you know!) and get tough with myself (I will resist the urge to have ‘just one warm up game of mahjong’).

Wish me luck.

Sash.

But my mobile phone was out of credit…

I’m always amazed by those adorable, on-the-ball toddlers who save their critically ill parent by dialling 000 and telling the ambulance how to get to their house. Stories like those never fail to bring a tear to my eye. Mainly because none of those kids live in my house.

We’ve tried to teach our bunch emergency response plans over the years, but honestly… they can be stuck somewhere late at night, their mobile phone is out of credit, and they can’t call us. Apparently.

Try a public phone, I say. Or call us before you leave work so we can meet you somewhere.

Oh, we didn’t think of that.

Before you think I’m a parent with my head in the sand (she says, draining some gritty stuff out of her ears) I have to say our kids tell us way more than we need to know about their lives. You know that stuff about not wanting to know what your parents got up to? It works both ways.

This isn’t about covering their tracks so much as not knowing what to do when things don’t go to plan…

Which brings me back to mobile phones.

Our policy has always been that we won’t buy our kids a mobile phone – or credit. Even if other parents do it for their kids (which, of course, they regularly point out to us). Even if we want them to be able to call us when they really need to.

Even if they lose their $200 mobile phone a week after they buy it with their birthday money. We call that a cheap lesson (more about that another time).

I don’t question the fact that we all want our kids to be as safe as possible, and we see a mobile phone as one way to achieve that. What I do question is whether we’re fooling ourselves (or they’re fooling us) just a tiny bit.

 

The fact is, you can buy them all the credit you like, but the rate kids txt msg these days, they’d probably be out of credit when they need it most.

What did we do before mobile phones? How did we survive, get out of trouble, find our way home?

We had to do more planning before we went anywhere – like how were we getting home, did we need a lift, would there be buses, did we have change for a phone or money for a taxi?

All of us girls knew our killer heels were more than just a fashion item – and that a swift kick in the right spot could make a bloke crumple at the knees.

Maybe it’s time we let our kids know it’s a jungle out there and how to deal with it. After all, there isn’t always mobile phone reception.

Elle.