The Way Things Happen 2: A Break on a Break

We just got back home from five weeks' holiday in Greece. Yes, FIVE WEEKS! I know! Heaven.

It wasn't quite planned that way. See, our trip, or at least mine and the girls', was supposed to be three and a half weeks, timed so the kids would miss "only" two weeks of school at the end of Term 2. We would arrive back Thursday night on 12 July, in time to rest and start school for start of Term 3 on 16 July. I'd be back at work Wednesday, leaving me a further delicious two days to potter around by myself beforehand.

Y was staying an extra 2 weeks, coming back on 23 July. I had to talk him into this funnily enough, but I knew once he got there he'd want to stay longer than 3 weeks and spend more time with family, as he hadn't been back in nine years.

Our first day in Greece, as soon as the plane touched down at Athens, I was excited. It had been ten years since my last trip here and I love, love, love this country. As soon as I saw the city, the airport, the signage in Greek, the brilliant sunshine, I felt wonderful.

Image: FreeDigitalPhotos.net

At the airport we had a couple of hours until our connecting flight. We whiled away some time at a cafe, then I visited the toilet.

In the toilet, I did what I had to do then waltzed towards the door. As I smiled at the lady cleaning the floors and thought to myself "Hmm, the floors are very wet, I'll be careful here", I suddenly skidded and fell on top of my outstretched arm. Next thing I knew I was wailing in shock and pain and the cleaning lady was trying to help me up while my arm flopped like jelly in front of me.

I'd never broken a bone before, unless you count my tailbone when I fell backwards on roller skates onto my bum when I was 11. They can't put a cast on that one, it just heals by itself - but I had a little shooting pain every time I sat down for the next 8 years.

Anyway, this time I had broken my humerus quite badly - it had snapped through in a jagged break, and the two halves were out of alignment. It was not too painful at first, but it certainly was by the time I got to the hospital. And that was just the beginning of things!

As I sat on a chair outside the toilets, the cleaning lady's supervisor and two policemen got details from me of what had happened, and the cleaning lady ran to get my family from the cafe. They arrived back at the same time as the ambulance, and the kids got to watch me being loaded onto a stretcher and wheeled to the ambulance. M. stared in shock and A. was in tears clutching her cuddly Rabbit to her face. I wasn't in huge pain and smiled and told jokes to the kids and said "Look what silly Mummy did, I had an accident! And look, now we get to ride in an ambulance!"

Inwardly I was a little shocked, because before we left for our trip Mum had told me all about the problems that Athens General Hospital was having due to the economic crisis, including severe shortages of essential medical supplies like bandages and medicines. "Whatever you do, don't do anything to be sent to hospital!" she'd said. "Yeah right!" I laughed; I bought a First Aid kit for our suitcase, and joked that I would take it to the hospital and sell it there.

Now as they loaded me into the ambulance I kept thinking "I can't believe it, I'm actually going to the hospital!"

Initially we were taken to the first aid clinic attached to the airport, which is airy, modern and impressive. By this stage I was in some pain, and they gave me a Panadol. The pain soon escalated and I asked for something stronger but they said "We do have stronger stuff but we can't give it to you now because you had the Panadol."

Oh.

The nurses guessed the arm was broken and wrapped it and put it in a sling, unfortunately having to cut through my favorite shirt to do it. Ah well.

We had to wait awhile for an ambulance to go to the real hospital. We were recommended to wait for the ambulance rather than take a taxi, to get quicker treatment at the emergency room.  So we sat on chairs outside the main door and the paramedics who'd brought us smoked and kept us company and chatted about the crisis and the political outlook. At one point as I grimaced and sweated in my chair, one of them considered me and said to Y, "I thought women were supposed to be good at handling pain?"

This was me just grimacing and squirming a little mind you - not crying and screaming.
"I am handling it!" I said shortly. 

Finally the ambulance came and in we went; the guys loading me in made soothing noises, and as any time I have been in the health system I felt overwhelmed with gratitude for the care given by paramedics and nurses; they are always not only professional and calm but so kind - it makes me tearful every time. 

As we drove through the city I played I Spy with the kids and we marveled at the glorious weather. The area around Athens has the best climate in the country - warm, dry and breezy.

When we arrived at the hospital the paramedic told us to wait while he got a wheelchair. "I don't need one!" I said but he insisted - with a wheelchair they'll take you seriously and you'll be seen sooner, he said. Also, we had to make sure to tell everyone I haven't yet been treated, as they might misinterpret my bandage and sling to mean I'd already been seen.

It seemed he might have been right about the wheelchair. Y pushed me into the emergency room and told the triage desk what had happened, and we were sent straight to the room with the doctors in it. I don't mean to be ignorant here, but that's what it was - a small room where the doctors were, where only a few patients were admitted at a time.

Now I know full-well that appearances can be deceiving, that things don't have to be pristine and shiny to work, and that every country has its own systems and standards. I also know that medical treatment differs in the details from country to country, and that broken arms don't need the same type of care and equipment as, say, trauma accidents and cancer. 

Nevertheless, I'm going to tell you that the interior of this hospital is a little frightening. No air-con in the corridors and most rooms I saw; peeling paint; grimy surfaces; very old and basic equipment; private security guards patrolling the halls and barking at patients; and patients in varying states of injury and distress lying on trolleys, sitting in chairs or standing in hallways waiting for their turn or (occasionally) yelling at staff. I was embarrassed to be in my wheelchair but frightened as well. I only offered to give it up once and a kindly doctor patted me on the shoulder and made me sit down again, and after that I didn't offer it again. I admit even surrounded by others with worse injuries than mine, I just wanted to do everything I could to make sure I got treated fast and out of there. 

We also had the kids with us, and some of the scenes were potentially traumatizing. At one point a doctor yelled out "Whose are these kids, they shouldn't be here!" but relented when told we had no one to leave them with - we were in transit in Athens. I also wasn't going to let Y out of my sight, as I needed him to get me through the system. My Greek is fluent but doesn't extend to medical and administrative jargon, and I was in shock.

So the kids saw it all, unfortunately. They saw the old lady moaning in pain on the trolley; they saw the badly gashed man from a car accident writhing and crying; they saw the man covered in blood with multiple stab wounds, including a slice from mouth to cheek, who insisted he had cut himself by accident; they saw people yelling at security guards and doctors and they saw their mum crying and yelling in pain when her bone was set without anaesthetic...

I (honestly) had no wish to push in line, but didn't want to get lost as well, so I paid attention when the doctor gave us a piece of paper and told us where to go to get an x-ray, and at the hallway outside the door where we waited I pushed Y. to knock on the door and make sure we were seen and put in the queue. We waited our turn with others and as everywhere in Greece people talked to each other; we had no shortage of kindly smiles and comments and compliments for our kids.

The x-ray room was air-conditioned and bare except for the huge machine. After the x-ray we saw the doctor again who considered it grimly, then gave that very Greek expression of lips pressed together and eye-brows raised, which means "things are bad".  "What can I tell you," he said. "You've broken it very badly. This is about the worst kind of fracture you can do. But these breaks usually heal. Usually."

The next step was to have the bone set and cast applied.  That took place in a small room with an open window to the street where the sun shone and a gentle breeze blew; there was one man working there, and the room contained a couple of chairs, a board to hang up x-rays, a cupboard of supplies and the vat of casting plaster. The man was sullen and unfriendly, and I soon understood why. His working conditions are difficult to say the least.

There was another woman in there with a broken arm who already had her cast on and was preparing to go, and then it was our turn. I handed over my x-ray and the technician hung it up, but before he could look at it some guy came in - a former patient from what I could make out, if that was even possible - and started yelling at him. Good God, I thought nervously, Don't make this guy angry! 

Unlike the nurses and doctors in the other rooms, the technician did not take the yelling calmly. He rounded on the interloper and yelled back, and they both went at it full boar for a good few minutes. 

When the man left I said nervously to the technician, "You have a difficult job."
He nodded grimly. "Joyless!" he said simply.

He removed my sling and set to work unwrapping my bandage, and though he was not unkind, he made no attempt to soothe or be gentle. I was soon crying out in pain.  He looked repeatedly from the x-ray to my arm and felt along with his fingers, and before I knew what was happening he was pushing the bone into place and pressing down hard on my arm. 

I tried not to yell, I really did. I had told Y to take the kids away but they all stood just outside the door looking in, so I did try not to yell. But it just came out involuntarily, every time he moved or pressed on my arm - which was lots. Not just to set the bone, but to apply the cast, as my arm had to be lifted each time he wrapped the bandages around it.  He ignored me when I asked for pain relief, and kept going, not letting up until the cast was complete.

I was feeling multiple things at once - pain and fear, incredulousness, embarrassment that I was yelling, anger that there was no anaesthetic, contrition when I reminded myself that others were more badly injured and the nation was suffering such shortages.

I also thought of the kids seeing and hearing all this, and how traumatising it probably was. I was traumatised myself!

One remembered phrase gave me comfort on this issue though - turn down the volume.  This is Martin Seligman's advice  to parents of children subjected to non-violent trauma: don't make a big deal of it, and they won't be traumatised. Kids are much better at processing and moving on from things than we think - perhaps because they don't fully understand them.

So that night in our hotel room I made jokes with the kids about the "scary" hospital and about Mum crying, and soon they joined in and everything was fine with them. There have been no nightmares, and I hope they will not be too frightened next time they need to go to a hospital or break a bone. I have told them since that if they break a bone it will not be as bad for them and they won't go to the same hospital.


I have to say too, that the kids have been amazing. I like to think the experience matured them a little bit and was in some way perhaps even good for them. They were unbelievably good throughout the whole 3-day ordeal (travel, hospital, finding a hotel, etc) and have been extremely helpful to me ever since - not just jumping up to help me, pass things to me, carry things etc, but also adjusting their behaviour and expectations to suit the circumstances.



And there were positive aspects to the experience: the whole episode at Athens General Hospital took  less time than we would have spent in an Australian hospital; the doctors and nurses were kind and impressive, working hard in a frankly horrible environment; and finally, follow-up x-rays showed the orthopedic technician had done a very god job setting the bone.  Also, I should mention, to be fair, that they did give me a jab of something for pain as we were leaving.


And... there were other positives.

I got to spend my holiday truly relaxing - sitting down doing very little in a Greek village is no mean feat for a woman, I can tell you! (I spent my time in a Greek village like a man, ho ho!)

We had a much slower holiday than planned - less travel, more staying put and relaxing with family and friends. The kind of holiday that in fact I have never had. Two weeks in the village, a few days in a beautiful spot under Mt Pelion, another week in the village and a few days on the beaches behind Mt Olympus. Perfect.

Platamonas, Olymbos

Out of the cast and into a splint

Afissos, Pelion

Afissos beach

And finally, my three-and-a-half week holiday became a five-week one! As I couldn't travel back with kids and luggage alone, we initially tried to change Y's flight to come back with us. There were no seats on that date, so we changed ours to come back with him. It was a bit costly, and it was inconvenient - for work, school, dog kennel, cat minder, mail, bills, etc etc etc - but it did make for a brilliantly lengthy and relaxing holiday.


It's always interesting the way things happen.

Yiayia's garden

Fashion Advice

As a mother, finance sector worker and minimally groomed lazy person, I am uniquely unqualified to give advice on fashion. However like most of us I believe I have some expertise in this area, so here goes.

Clothes

• Ignore all that advice to only buy a small number of expensive, well-tailored items of clothing. It's fine in theory but not much fun in practice. And leaves you very little room to express yourself unless you are quite wealthy.

• Do not buy anything asymmetrical, unless you are prepared to toss it after one season. That means no mullet tops, girlfriends. No, they will not "come back".

• Don't bet too heavily on "classic" pieces, as you will not guess correctly and they will still date. More often than the so-called "classic" pieces, it tends to be the unusual, edgy or whimsical stuff you can wear for years. (Um, unless it's asymmetrical).

• Unless you are fairly slim, don't bother with a "classic white shirt." Knitted tops under jackets work better on more body types, and are more comfortable. (Am I alone with shirts pushing bra straps off my shoulders? Am I?!)

• Kaftans are great over bathing suits. I wear mine in the water! (To anyone in my vicinity on the beach: You're welcome).

• I fall for this again and again and I kick myself every time: do not fall for cheap shoes! I have a cupboard and rubbish bin full of broken/worn crappy shoes. What keeps me doing it is that every now and then I pick up something fantastic that lasts and looks great - but not often enough to outweigh all the others.

• Don't be too matchy-matchy. Also avoid the "checkerboard" (top, bottom and shoes in alternating colours). Except if you try it and it looks good of course.

• Other than hems, don't bother getting things altered. It's too expensive for the cost of most clothes, unless you are buying quite expensive clothes. But then if you're buying expensive clothes they are less likely to need altering.

• Dress to suit your body shape but don't over-worry it. Skinny jeans suit no one so if everyone's wearing them then you can too.

• A small number of "don'ts" really are timeless and one of them is this: do not ever fall for fluoro/neon. Ever.

Shoes

• Coloured shoes go with much more than you think. Any pale colours are excellently versatile.

• Embrace the loafer's return, for it is good-looking and so bloody comfortable. (I'm on the hunt for some yellow ones...)

Jewellery

• Big earrings or a necklace, but not both (at least that's my personal phobia for my own self).

Affectation

• Avoid over-complicated scarf-knotting, because everyone knows you worked too hard on it.

• Avoid 1950's and 60's retro and rockabilly because I personally am over it.

• Leave the term "vintage" for real collectors' items. For everything else, please use the terms "second-hand" or "old".

Now, if you want some REAL fashion advice for the real world, try these sites instead:

Fox in Flats
School Gate Style

Styling You

Where the advice on any of these sites conflicts with mine, you should definitely take theirs. Unless you are me, as I will stick with mine.

What about you? Do you have any fashion advice for us?

Linking up with Picklebums for Real Life Wednesday

The Way Things Happen

When I was a child I had a book of folk stories from around the world. My favorite story was from Mexico and was called "The Way Things Happen":

A poor young man left his village and looked for work in the city. He had no skills, so he applied for a job as a street sweeper. He was asked to write his name on an application form. "I can't write," he said, and they shooed him away. Everywhere he tried the same thing happened. Finally he stopped looking for work and sold a few tomatoes that he had brought with him from his village. With the money he made he bought some more tomatoes and sold those, and he did quite well. He continued on in this way, buying and selling tomatoes, and he continued to do well. He started to buy and sell more vegetables, and built a thriving business. Eventually, he had to open a bank account.

By this stage he was older and better dressed.  The bank staff were impressed. As the account was opened, the teller handed him a pen to sign the form. The man explained he could not write his name, and the bank teller was amazed. "But, senor," he said, "you are so rich and successful and yet you can't read or write? Imagine how successful you would be if you could!"

The man said, "If I could write my name I would be sweeping the streets out there."

And he smiled to himself at the way things happen.

My Former Life and My Current Life: Greek Avgolemono Soup

Back in 1994 I was 24 and working as a cook in a restaurant on Santorini, in Greece. I am not a chef or even a cook, and this was not work I enjoyed on the whole. Restaurant kitchens are hard work - I cannot watch Masterchef as I find it too stressful!

But this man made this job as enjoyable as it could possibly be. I was very lucky to get a job working with Mike Roussos. Mike had lived in Chicago for 20 years and had just relocated his family back to Greece. He was finding it a little difficult to adjust, being on the one hand used to the amenities of the US and on the other finding the Greece of his youth had disappeared.

Mike is a wonderful guy and he taught me everything he did in the kitchen. He was very generous with his time and knowledge and we worked well together, as it was just the two of us in the large kitchen of probably the most popular tourist restaurant on the island at that time.

Me and Mike on a rare break

Mike Roussos in the kitchen

I kept an exercise book of recipes Mike taught me, and as I was trying to learn Greek some are in bits of earnest, erroneous Greek or use Greek words or brand names for ingredients I wasn't sure of. It's not only a great souvenir but a truly useful cookbook - I use these recipes often.

My cookbook with Mike's recipes

My favourite of all is avgolemono - Egg and Lemon Soup.
It is absolutely delicious - imagine chicken soup with a zesty tang and that's what it is.

I don't believe Mike would mind me sharing this recipe.


Mike Roussos' Egg and Lemon Soup


Boil a chicken in water until very well done. Remove meat, discard bones and waste.
To the water add salt, pepper and white arborio rice (about a cup), and simmer to cook the rice; once rice has cooked turn off heat and let the stock cool a bit as you do the next part.
Squeeze juice from some lemons - at least 4.
In a bowl whisk 7 egg whites until frothy, gradually adding half the lemon juice.
Add the yolks, whisk well and add more lemon juice to taste. Test it by dipping in a finger - it should taste quite lemony, so quite a bit of juice is needed.


Here is the tricky bit. While whisking, spoon 4 or 5 ladles of broth (without any rice) and pour slowly into the egg and lemon mixture. Take your time doing this, as this will prevent the soup curdling. It is easier with two people.  When the broth and egg and lemon are mixed, slowly pour the whole of the egg and lemon mix into the pot of broth.


Test again and add lemon to taste. If the soup is too eggy or thick, thin with water. 


Add the meat before serving.



Mike, wherever you are - and I hope you're well - thank you.

Kali orexi  (bon appetit)!

Egg and Lemon Soup

My Favorite Recipe Books

I once read that the average recipe book is used for two recipes. I think that's right.
When I read that I took a good look through the shelf of recipe books I had collected over the years and gave away all the ones that I did not use, or that I only used for one recipe (I copied the recipe first).

The others I have kept, and it is now a small but honest collection.

Here are the recipe books I use the most:


Tana Ramsay's Family Kitchen
If you ignore the kind of annoying perfect-family pictures throughout, the recipes are fantastic. Good wholesome family food with lots of stews, pies, soups, sandwiches and sweets.

buy

You also have to ignore the title of the chapter "Cooking From the Cupboard" which is supposedly about using ingredients already in your pantry, because the Ramsay family clearly have a very different pantry to mine. Theirs is apparently always stocked with things like creme fraiche, pancetta, and fresh flat leaf parsley (rather than, say, tinned tomatoes, Worcestershire sauce and a packet of spaghetti).

My favourite recipes:

• tinned sardines with avocado on toast
• stew
• fish pie

Healthy Cooking: a Commonsense Guide

buy

A brilliant reference containing loads of information on nutrition plus kilojoule, carb, fat and fibre count tables. It also has general cooking tips and how-to guides at the start of each chapter.
Many recipes are classic favorites modified to be less fattening or more healthy (you can always modify them back!).

My favorite recipes:

• roasting - introductory section with lots of tips and info
• wholemeal banana bread
• fudge brownies

Elliniki Kouzina (Greek Cooking)
This is a book produced in Greece and available at all good tourist shops in the Greek Islands.  I bought it because I was learning Greek as well as to have a reference for Greek dishes. I still use it a lot.

My favorite recipes:

• stuffed green peppers and tomatoes
• stuffed zucchini with white sauce

My Greek Recipe Journal
For one eventful summer in my twenties, I worked as a cook in a restaurant in Santorini. I was lucky enough to work with a man named Mike Roussos who was not only a wonderful guy but a really good cook. He had lived for the past 20 years in Chicago and had just returned to Greece with his American family, and was adjusting to life back in his homeland. He taught me loads of dishes, including some clever shortcuts for cooking dishes in bulk and fast.
I kept this journal throughout, in a tatty exercise book spattered with oils and sauces, which I still use all the time.

My favorite recipes (thank you Mike!):

• Avgolemono (chicken egg and lemon soup)
• tomato keftedes (tomato, cheese and zucchini pancakes)
• Madeira cake
• spaghetti carbonara 
• spetsofai (spicy sausage casserole)
• moussaka

My Recipe Book
My own collection of hand-written recipes which I started in my early teens and finished in my early twenties when I first moved out of home and started cooking for real.
It has all the best of my mum's cooking, many of which are the same recipes still passed between women which turn up under different women's names in the "reader recipe" sections in women's magazines (and which probably ultimately came from some early Women's Weekly feature or the old PWMU cookbook).
It has recipes which are solidly of the 1970s like chop suey and "curry" (lamb, sultanas and curry powder). It has recipes from the years we lived in the US when I was a kid, like Club 21 Chicken Hash, Kathryn Hepburn's Brownies, Hamburger Helper, Pumpkin Pie and Pecan Pie. And it has recipes I got from flatmates and friends in my uni days, which evoke great memories of cooking back when cooking was new and fun.


My favorite recipes:

• honey orange chicken
• curry chicken 
• Club 21 Chicken Hash
• tuna casserole (with potato chips)
• chocolate fruit slice
• Devil's Chocolate Cake
• Flat Five Mince and Chickpea Curry
• Kate's apple crumble
• Jacob's sweet and sour pork
• Anatoly's chicken

Busy Woman's Quick and Easy Recipes: Make 'em Happy, Fix it Fast!

buy

I bought this recently at the supermarket. It has approximately one million and sixty chicken recipes, most of which use some dodgy but convenient base like French Onion Soup Mix, apricot jam or mayonnaise. All the recipes are indeed very quick and very easy. Some of them sound too weird to try (Cola Chicken), but I have had a few successes.

My favorite recipes:

• honey baked chicken
• chicken quesadillas
• deluxe dinner nachos

Australian Women's Weekly Fresh Food for Babies and Toddlers

buy

Brilliant during the transition to solids and toddler finger food. Still my go-to for simple plain foods friendly to fussy taste buds

My favorite recipes:

• custard
• mini beef rissoles
• broccoli and cheese frittata
• honey and soy drumsticks
• basic birthday cake recipe

What are your favorite recipe books?

Fiction Fridays: Tales From Everywhere

Tales From Everywhere

Stories selected and rewritten by Mae Bradley 

illustrated by Janet & Anne Grahame-Johnson

World Distributors (Manchester) Limited, 1975

In Maoriland there was once a chief called Kahukura.

I'm cheating a little - my kids are not reading this book. It's one from my own childhood which I deeply loved. As a child my dad was often away on business and he loved to travel; being the 70's there were slide nights and dolls for me and my sister dressed in traditional garb from each country he visited. I was hooked, fascinated with other countries and cultures from almost as far back as I can remember. 

The stories in this book are traditional stories from around the world, each one enhanced by the beautiful and haunting illustrations:

• The Fairy Fishermen - New Zealand
• The Swans of Islay - Scotland
• The Way Things Happen - Mexico
• The Story of Semerwater - England
• The Two Brothers and the Little Mother - Australia
• How the Tribes Began - Nigeria
• The Dog's Will - Iran
• The Chatterbox - Russia
• A Friend for Man - (?Africa)
• The Story of the White Snake Lady - China
• The Magic Harp - Norway(?)
• Hudden and Dudden and Donald McGrath - Ireland

What book from your childhood is special to you?

If you would like to play Fiction Fridays, click on the badge below to see how:

Or check out the Pinterest board set up by Child-Led Chaos: http://pinterest.com/childledchaos/fiction-fridays/

Hot or Not?

My 6-year-old drew these pictures recently. Should I be worried?

My initial reaction I admit, was to be a bit alarmed. I mean she's six. WTF??

I mulled over it for a day and then I asked her about them. She's always drawing and I'm always into her drawings so it was pretty natural for me to say "Oh, hey, new drawings! What's happening in these ones?"

The first one depicts her school friend V. and her "boyfriend" N., who is breaking up with her. The "boyfriend" is telling V. he is breaking up with her, and she is upset and hugging herself. 

"But V doesn't have a boyfriend," I said.

"Yes she does," said my daughter, "N is her boyfriend, he likes her and they're friends."

"Ah," I said. "So... what's this breaking up thing, did that really happen?"

"No," said my daughter, "it's just a story, mum."

"Ah," I said. "And what's the other drawing?"

"Well," said my daughter, smiling her embarassed smile, "that boy is a cool rock star and he's looking at this beautiful girl, and he likes her. Because she's all, you know, sexy and stuff."

Ohhhkaaaay...

Once I got over the surprise, I decided I was not too concerned, at least about the boyfriend/breaking up thing. Dating, romance, break-ups, marriage and kissing are in EVERY single show ever, as well as every song, every ad on TV, and every movie. Even the kids' stuff. It's incredible once you notice it - it's in everything. So the kids are seeing it all the time. 

The "hot" thing is a little dismaying, but one again, it's everywhere. I know my daughter doesn't see herself as "pretty" (even though others do). She sees her sister as "pretty" and herself as "cool". 

It doesn't matter how often (or not often - you can't overdo these things, it's a tightrope walk I tell you) I try to tell or show the girls they are many things, not just "pretty" or "cool", or that you can be both, or that you don't have to be either, or that people are sometimes one and sometimes the other and sometimes something else - she's not buying it. 

As it happens my little girl was having some social, confidence and anxiety issues that were becoming a real problem *, so I saw the student welfare officer at school and after talking through everything else I showed her the drawings. "I'm not really too concerned, and I don't want to read too much into these," I said apologetically, "but I wouldn't mind your thoughts. Do you think these are a worry?"

She thought not. She had a little chuckle over them and said this was my daughter's way of processing all the stuff she is seeing and hearing, and that yes, it was perfectly normal for Grade 1 kids to talk about boyfriends and girlfriends and boys and girls "liking" each other. 

In fact one reason I hadn't been too worried was I remember this happening when I was in Grade 1. Although I don't think it was quite so relentless back then... but I may be wrong. We don't truly remember our childhoods as they really were after all, do we?

There is a lot of concern these days about the "sexualisation" of children. It's an easy thing to buy into, but I'm not totally convinced. Children are, in fact, "sexual" in as much as they are human animals, and at this age they are discovering more and more about themselves, their bodies and how boys and girls relate to each other. And in matters of sex and relationships children/kids of all ages have always been ahead of where their parents want them to be.

What do you think? Are kids growing up too fast?

Are you concerned about the sexualisation of children?

Or are some people worrying about perfectly normal stuff?

* (She is fine now).

Eleven

I've been tagged by Kath from Blurb From the Burbs with some fantastical questions.
This meme comes from River at Drifting Through Life, who created 11 questions and tagged 11 bloggers, with the intent that they answer the questions then set 11 new ones and tag 11 people, and so it goes on.

Here are Kath's 11, with my answers:

1. When and why did you start blogging?
I started blogging in January 2010 and my first awful posts that month show that I truly did not know what I was doing. I was just feeling my way, but I knew I wanted to write and explore and shout my opinions on things, and I knew this would be a way to do it. I had started reading a few blogs and was really intrigued with all the possibilities on blogging platforms for doing whatever it is you want to do.

2. What is your middle name and why did your parents select it?
I don't have a middle name. My mum and her sister both decided not to give their kids middle names because they're not necessary, so neither I, my sister nor three of our cousins have middle names. I do indeed find you don't need a middle name, except that every time you are asked you have to say "I don't have a middle name" which takes longer.

3. Toilet paper folder or scruncher? Provide your reasons
Folder. Reasons... not sure how graphic you want this, but folding provides more cover and thickness to mop up everything, no?

4. What do you do at home when everyone else is out?
Treadmill (sometimes). Internet (often). Laundry and tidying (always).

5. You've been given five hundred bucks (two hundred and fifty quid, say) to spend on nothing useful and just your self. What do you do with the cash?
I'd buy a gorgeous bag from Fossil or some jewellery.

6. It's finally come true. One of your 'five celebrities you're allowed to sleep with' has walked into your kitchen and is up for it. Who is it?
Why, it's Josh Brolin in my kitchen, telling me to leave the washing as he will do it for me later. 

Josh Brolin - via here

7. Name one famous person (so that all our readers know who it is) that you think 'has their shit together'. Explain why.
I don't know why, I might be wrong, but I think Jennifer Garner has her shit together. She appears to dress herself and her children in normal clothes, goes out without make-up, takes awhile to lose baby weight, and takes her kids to parks and playgrounds.

8. What makes you get out of bed in the morning?
The desire to greet the day gifted by the universe, to experience the daily miracles of life, and to make the most of every precious moment I have on this earth.

Nah, really it's the thought of all the stuff I have to do today, plus the opportunity to relish my favourite part of the day, my "quiet time" with treadmill and then news and coffee, before everyone else gets up.

9. Who would you like to smack in the face, publicly disprove all of their stupid opinions and freeze their bank accounts?
Well the obvious of course - Andrew Bolt and Miranda Devine. And about half the time, Catherine Deveny. But the other half the time I would shake her hand, apologise and give her back her bank accounts, so there'd be a lot of back and forth.

10. Low slung jeans on boys - how do we eradicate this disease?
It's obvious. We get their fathers and everyone over 30 to wear their pants the same way, and they will soon stop.


11. Tell us about an invention for the home that we desperately need.

Surfaces that repel dust and grime so they never get dirty.

That internet fridge that is supposed to take inventory and order replacements when stocks run low, but it should also calculate need based on frequency of usage and my facial expression when I gaze at the contents - so that it doesn't go ahead and order more Thousand Island salad dressing when I finally one day use the bottle I have.

Now for my 11 bloggers:

@homedad
Meggsie at AMFYOYO
Melissa at From Boardroom to Babies
Single Married Mum
Joe H at Cranky Old Man
Torkona at Tork's Blog
Dr Bron at The Modern Family
Nikki at Stressy Mummy
Anne-Marie at Child-Led Chaos
Michelle at 4 Kids, A Dog and a Blog
Nat at Drivelology



And here are my 11 questions:

1. If you could choose any job/career without having to put in the time and money for training, and assuming your life would magically work around it, what would you pick?


2. What pet(s) do you have, and how did you choose it/them?


3. What's your "comfort reading" book - the book you re-read to feel better?


4. What's the oldest thing in your possession?


5. How did you choose the name for your blog? Do you still like it, or do you think about changing it?


6. "An untidy desk means an unorganized mind." Discuss.


7. If you had three days all to yourself, what would you do?


8. Are you Apple or Android?


9. When travelling, do you prefer to plan and book, or keep things open?


10. Is there anything you dislike about blogging? (being tagged for memes perhaps...)


11. Clare in Modern Family says "You can't have two fun parents, because that's a carnival". Are you the Fun Parent or the Responsible Parent? Or if you're not a parent, of your own parents who was who? Do you/Did they do a Good Cop Bad Cop routine, or are you/were they in synch?

And if I haven't tagged you but you would like to join in, please do feel free!

Kids and Fat

If you live in Australia, you will have seen, read or heard of the attacks on Chrissie Swan for having an overweight toddler. Chrissie Swan seems a lovely decent person and many have sprung to her deference - e.g. Susie O'Brien, Mamamia, Five Frogs on a Blog and Woogsworld to name those I have read. All made excellent points.

I will add another.

People are born with varying propensities to getting fat. We're not all born the same clean perfect slate as so much parenting commentary seems to suggest these days. Everyone is different. So every kid is different. Some get fat easily, some don't.

Like Chrissie Swan, I have struggled with weight all my life. Swan says in the latest Sunday Life magazine that she was put on her first diet at 11. Well I was put on my first one at five, so I win!
My next one was at age ten, and I have been dieting, exercising, or intending to diet and exercise, ever since.

I got slim in my late teens and held it till I was thirty. Then, wham! office jobs. I was a goner.

When I was slim in my twenties life was pretty glorious, except for the fact I was hungry constantly, my muscles were sore from exercising all the time, and I was resentful of every boyfriend who wolfed down whatever he wanted and asked me why I wasn't eating.

My husband is a thin person, and when we first met I couldn't believe I'd snagged him. Then I got nervous. Then I was happy. Apart from the fact I loved him, I reasoned being married to a thin person would keep me on my toes. I would be too ashamed to get fat married to someone like that.
(Sadly, with time I managed to overcome this obstacle).

Also in the back of my mind was the thought that when we had kids, his thin DNA would offset my fat DNA and my kids would be a lovely mix of just-right, avoiding the misery and self-doubt that had plagued my childhood as variously sturdy, chubby, or overweight.

Eighteen years later and here we are with two beautiful, beautiful girls. One of whom is tall and thin and eats a tonne, and the other who is rounder and sturdier, eats a lot less and has a propensity to gain weight.

We didn't get mixed versions of ourselves. We got one of each!

M. is a wiry bundle of energy like her Dad. She can't sit still. She is often hot, runs around wearing nothing and is always hungry. She self-regulates well with food. She eats most things. She loves cakes and sweets but no more than she loves fruit, meat and cheese. Her one weakness is chocolate, which she used to be able to eat heaps of but lately is going off.

A., like me, is naturally sedentary and likes her carbs. She would sit and watch TV for hours if we let her (though with regular bouts of energetic dancing as she watches). She loves anything sweet and craves sweet tastes, getting grumpy or upset (sometimes with a tinge of shame, which breaks my heart) when we refuse her. She is fussier with "proper" foods and drives me crazy not eating dinner.  I find myself bribing her with dessert to eat her meat and veggies, which I know is not the "right" thing to do.

I'm very conscious of not inducing food paranoia and try to be natural and relaxed around food and exercise with my kids. We have fruit every day, I cook meals from scratch, they drink plenty of water and we have both healthy and unhealthy snacks. I try to inculcate the behaviours and attitudes around food that M. exhibits naturally. I model good food behaviour around them.

But A's propensity is innate and whatever I do, she will battle this problem.  It pains me to anticipate the difficulties she will probably have in this area, and the inevitable comparisons she will make with her sister (in fact she has already started to do that). When she was five I had my first of no doubt many pep talks with her when she asked me "why is everyone else skinny and I'm not?"
She was (and is) not overweight, and not the only "rounded" little girl in her circle, but kids pick up on what's the "right" way to be very early.

I know when she gets older she will probably blame me for her battles, and in the sense that this was inherited from me she will be right.

Of course there are worse things - I know that. And I will make sure she knows that too.


The thing is, we all have our cross to bear. If you're not fat, then you're something else.
If your kids eat well and it's easy to parent them in relation to food, then you are struggling with something else that Chrissie Swan is managing effortlessly.

What's your cross to bear? 

Have your kids inherited it or do they have their own?

How supportive/understanding do you find people to be?

Sometimes You Don't Look Away

There are so many atrocities in the world, and not all are far away. Horrendous things happen in your country, your town, in your suburb. Every week, sometimes every day, we hear awful things in the news and read terrible things in the paper that take our breath away, plant horrible images in our heads that will never leave, and leave us thinking, THIS is the worst...how can this happen...what worse thing can possibly happen next?

Sometimes, you make the decision not to listen and not to look. Because sometimes it's just too much to bear. And we have to keep going in our own lives, for our own children, and our own mental health. So sometimes we choose not to look. And we feel bad at not looking, but we still don't look. And that's normal, it's human.

The massacre of people in their homes in Houla last week made me look.  The first I saw was some stuff on Twitter on 27 May, with references to this article in The Guardian. Newspapers featured the bodies of the executed and mutilated children on their front page - something news editors do not do lightly.

Days later this article in The Times added more - and it is so unbelievably, graphically horrible what was done to these kids it is a struggle to read, and must have been an awful thing to report on. This article is now available outside The Times pay-wall, and is titled Syria: the Tipping Point.

We can't even imagine what this whole thing was like for the victims and survivors, or their families, neighbors and friends.

I am confident the world will not look away on this. It is easy to blame governments and diplomats for doing too little, or doing nothing.

But I think this, surely, is not going to be one of those times.

We still don't know who did this, exactly. But whoever did it, whether government forces or not, clearly intended to incite terror and civil war.

But the regime in Syria must be held responsible, and I believe it will.



So, I feel a little silly doing this, but I will add my voice:

Today, Friday June 1st, is the day bloggers around the world are calling for action on Syria.


Sign these petitions calling for action from world leaders to stop the killings:


Save the Children

and

Avaaz.org

The following was posted by Kate Takes 5 today:

"Yesterday morning we started off with one tweet and four people who had made the decision not to look away. By 1pm we had reached 50,000 people and made 91,000 impressions. By 3.30pm it was 77,000 and 117,000, and Syrians journalists and bloggers were getting involved. If one person tweeting a link to an article can snowball to this then just think what 77,000 can do."


Thank you for reading.


Please tweet or share this post - or the links within - in whatever way you can to spread the message. 


If you are a blogger who would like to participate please write a post and use the hashtags #tippingpoint #Syria #Stopthekilling to promote it.