Category Archives: Life and Family

The Y of Living Imperfectly: Forever Young and Gen Y #atozchallenge

So many adventures couldn’t happen today
So many songs that we forgot to play
So many dreams swinging out of the blue
We let them come true

Forever young, I want to be forever young
Do you really want to live forever, forever, forever?
Forever young, I want to be forever young
Do you really want to live forever, forever, forever?

From Youth Group – Forever Young Lyrics | MetroLyrics

Y Challenge Letter The thought of living forever seems a double edge sword. As I age, the notion of quantity of life is giving way to quality of life. Of course, this is a personal choice for everyone, but to me, I want to make the days I have left count and to squeeze the most out of them.

I have written before on this blog about thinking old v thinking young and how at this age and stage, the difference between the two approaches becomes more striking. For our perceptions and choices at mid-life seem to have a large bearing on older ageing. At least that’s what it seems like to me . I really feel like I’m at a cross-road at this point, needing to decide whether to think young or think old.  Any decision or choices I make on the score will impact on how I set myself up for the second act.

Ha, I’m still talking as if I am not in the second. Possibly denial, but I would like to think of it more a long the lines of young thinking. For as long as I think young, I can stay in the first act. Thinking forever young works for me.

Being bit of an upside down, back to front person, I feel like I have moved beyond the stage of older thinking in my life. By older thinking I mean being driven to the totally practical because of perceived risks.  This sort of thinking came in my twenties and thirties at a time when everyone else around me was thinking young. Whilst I can’t deny that it served me relatively well, I can’t help but feel there was a price I paid for it, namely regret.

Which is why I have made the decision to age disgracefully imperfectly.

Need to be careful not to sound like this

Need to be careful not to sound like this

I had a great discussion this morning with my eldest about following your heart and having the confidence to do so. At the age of 19 these are weighty issues to consider, mostly because at that age the heart may not be giving you consistent signals if it is giving you any at all. And as a parent discussions like these are a real tightrope walk, because the practical always threatens to intrude along with the notion of what we would do in a similar situation. The natural instinct of a parent is to prevent pain and suffering for their child, but if we don’t let them have these experiences how are they to learn? Vicariously through others? A lot of adults live their life that way, but to me that’s even more risky because learning through the mistakes of others tends to lead to living through others. I’d rather have my boots on leading the way. And it’s not what I want for my children. However it is their choice.

So it’s why I now find myself in a postgraduate media class at university filled with a bunch of Gen Ys. The experience has been interesting and for the most part I enjoy it. There are a lot of bright young things out there and I believe the world’s future is in good hands if these kids can ever get on the job experience. The necessitymature age student meme of graduate qualifications to getting a job in today’s competitive world has been rammed home to me. Most of the “kids” in my class have started their postgrad education immediately after finishing their bachelor degrees, some with a total change in discipline. They compete for intern positions to build their CVs and with the hope of landing a full-time job, eventually by the time they are in their mid twenties.

This is very different to my undergrad days when postgrad degrees were a sign of “going the extra mile” for advancement. They were therefore regarded as optional until a career move made it essential. Because of my love of learning I actually had only one year from when I finished by bachelor degree and started my postgrad degree. But that was highly unusual and well, I’m weird like that.

So following your heart and making it in this world as a young Gen Y is not easy. Following your heart at any age is not easy, but I think it’s essential to thinking forever young.

The X of Living Imperfectly: Yes Virginia There is a Xanadu

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree :
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round :
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery. – Kubla Khan by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

X Challenge Letter Most folks when first hearing about the A to Z Challenge reach for their dictionaries minding their Qs and Zs. But it’s this little letter X that’s the real toughy. I think if I blogged for long enough I would run out of X words to write about and would simply have to mark the spot. This year the Challenge road has led me to Xanadu.

If you’re my vintage, when you hear the word Xanadu you probably think of a roller skating rink, flowing blond hair, wind machines and disco music and Olivia Newton John. If you’re too young to know what I’m talking about check out this midriff covered video:

Now that I’ve shot the beauty and gravitas of Coleridge’s words to pieces by using the words “Coleridge” and “disco music” in the one post, I can ditch perfection and let you know that the first two lines of this poem are about my only take-aways from high school poetry. Although as I remember it Kubla Khan had an erection where his pleasure dome was concerned rather than a decree. Kubla Khan erecting a pleasure dome seems far more tangible than a decree. Maybe we learned the Australian version of the poem, or maybe Mr Khan’s dome actually got lost in a whole lot of red tape at the rezoning stage and never made it beyond a decree.

As a parent I certainly know that just because you decree something, it certainly doesn’t make it so.

But I digress. Back to the topic at hand of Xanadu.

So, if you had to design a Xanadu, what would it look like? What would your idealized place of magnificence and beauty look like?

Image courtesy of freedgitalphotos.net

Image courtesy of freedgitalphotos.net

 

This has a lot of potential. Serenity, shade, water and a wrap around balcony would almost be ideal. Perhaps white sand and blue water is more your style or rainforest and running water.

The fact is we can surround ourselves with magnificence and beauty but we will never reach Xanadu with just tangibles. Because magnificence and beauty ultimately require acceptance, gratitude and a willingness to look beyond the outwardly magnificent and the beautiful. You could live in the most beautiful paradise but if you are not grateful or at peace it could still be the worst nightmare. In short, Xanadu comes from inside, it is where we are settled, it is where we can truly be ourselves.

Xanadu can therefore be several different places in our lifetime or at any one time, because each place may bring out a different facet of our personality. One day you might be contemplative and seek serenity, the next you might be playful and seek colour and sound.

A little bit of idealism is not a bad thing. It’s a pity as adults we tend to limit our idealism to the point where our imagination is used to create barriers or make assumptions and therefore as a weapon. Instead we should be creating our own Xanadu, that little piece of paradise in our otherwise cluttered days.

Here some more mouth watering pics of ideal locations to get you started thinking about your Xanadu:

Image courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net

Image courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net

 

Image courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net

Image courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The W of Living Imperfectly: When Wanderlust Refuses to Wane #atozchallenge

As a general rule, travellers are selfish. They pay little attention either to the comforts or distresses of their fellow travellers ; and the commonest observances of politeness are often sadly neglected by them. In the scramble for tickets, for seats, for state-rooms, or for places at a public table, the courtesies of life seem to be trampled under foot. Even the ladies are sometimes rudely treated and shamefully neglected in the headlong rush for desirable seats in the railway cars.

…

Making acquaintances in the cars, although correct enough, is a measure of which travellers generally appear to be very shy. There is no reason for this, as acquaintances thus picked up need never be recognized again unless you please. If a stranger speaks to you, always answer him politely, and if his conversation proves disagreeable, you have no alternative but to change your seat – Martine’s Handbook to Etiquette and Guide to True Politeness, Arthur Martine, Dick & Fitzgerald Publishers, 1866.

W Challenge LetterI’ve written posts before about how much I love to travel. The wanderlust I acquired through my parents has refused to wane even through marriage to a perfectly content homebody and parenthood. But the spirit and the soul cannot be denied forever and this is the year I plan to feed both through travel.

From my very first trip overseas at the age of five when I got stuck in a Parisian bathtub that could hold the volume of Sydney Harbour together with its average boat traffic to my honeymoon in Thailand when I found out that drinking milk in a hot country on a public bus was not a good idea and what being married really means, I have loved all of my trips.

Travelling with young children or travelling when a parent of young children is never easy. When the boys were young, the only real travel we did was when work required it. Back in those days the Italian Stallion did most of the work travel, leaving me at home to cope with a demanding career and parenting duties. As the boys grew older we ventured out with them as far afield as New Zealand and Noumea. There was also a trip to America just after no.1 turned two. We have since tackled Europe and America as a family.

Travelling parents tend to be an emotive and polarizing subject. The debate about whether parents should take vacations or travel without their yearn for adventurechildren seems to elicit much debate with strong views on either side. In researching the Web for this post, I was amazed to find the number of blogs that have been written to justify a blogger’s stance on why leaving children behind to travel is right for them. Whatever the case, travel like sleeping arrangements for children is a personal issue for each family and they should do what is right for them.

It is only recently that I have given in to my wanderlust and have starting roaming without my family. I would love to have them come with me, but now the boys are at a stage where they tend to have their own lives and what do you do when your husband prefers to stay close to home? To be fair to the Italian Stallion, I can coax him overseas every so often, but it would never be his first choice of activity just as cooking wouldn’t be mine. It’s a good thing for the Italian Stallion that cooking has to occur every day and that travel is an occasional thing. But I figure after a couple of thousand meals, an overseas family vacation is a fair trade.

There are arguments both ways as to whether being a parent means you should take your kids with you every time you travel. I have done both and will do both this year. People are generally inclined to cut you some slack as a parent if you are going away with your husband for a special occasion, say a wedding anniversary. We did just that not so long ago and it was wonderful and the kids had a good time back home by being coddled by their grandmothers.

But mention going away without kids, without spouse and for pleasure, you tend to get utter disbelief and a whole lot of judgement.

Whether it’s disbelief in daring to travel solo as a mature women or having the temerity to leave your family to fend for themselves whilst you actually do something for yourself, I’m not so sure. But why does this notion push people’s fear buttons so?

Good travellerI don’t really have an answer because none of this scares me. I have more confidence and a higher sense of adventure than I have ever had before so none of this makes any real sense to me. I also have utter confidence in the survival skills of my family, after all isn’t it a mother’s job to raise humans who can think for themselves and be independent?

Two weeks of me being away will do wonders for us all. My boundaries will get the stretching they so clearly are screaming out for, my family will discover a whole new temporary dynamic and the heart in all of us will grow fonder of each other.

If living live perfectly means burying my wanderlust in my middle age then I want no part of it. Instead, it’s time to be energized by adventure. And if that amounts to being selfish, then so be it.

With this post I have pressed that publish button 200 times. Hitting this milestone during the A to Z Challenge can only be described as imperfectly perfect.

cooltext1537787008

On Bodies and Middle Age: Out of the Mouths of Not So Recent Babes

In the land of the future it’s now Sunday morning and this generally means weekend newspapers and a leisurely breakfast.

The front page of our paper today features a picture of a stunning Elle McPherson under which is written the headline “The Body at 50”. A quick turn to page 7 reveals that Elle turned the big 5-0 yesterday and that The Body still has the body. The article outlines her various business and fashion successes and notes that Time once named Elle the “body of our time”.

I am sure there was no consultation between our respective mothers back in 1964 when they chose to give birth to girls within a couple of months of each other. However, I have had the spectre of being the same age as Elle McPherson hanging over me since the dawn of my time. In what is a perfect case of ‘comparison could really be the thief of joy”, I have tried hard to avoid such folly.

There is no doubt Elle looks fabulous in her now half a century body. And why wouldn’t she? The article tells us she is a devotee of exercise via skiing, surfing, yoga, swimming and hiking, drinking three litres of water daily, completing 500 sit-ups and running up and down four flights of stairs five times every morning in her twenties – Sun Herald, 30 March 2014. If that’s the case, then Elle deserves the way she now looks.

Image courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net

Image courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net

Me? I am still struggling with the notion of being able to do 500 sit-ups and running up and down flights of stairs on a full bladder.

So in a moment of comparison insanity (because even the Curtain Raiser sometimes succumbs on weekends), I held up the front page photo next to my face and asked my eldest son “Do you think I could be confused with Elle McPherson?”

Not missing a beat, he replied “No mum, Elle McPherson is not good looking.”

Just goes to show there are some things that not even 500 daily sit-ups and three litres of water can buy you.

There are better things than being perfect, this is just one of them.

Come join me in April when I explore further the concept of being perfectly imperfect in the A to Z Challenge April Blogging Challenge.

 

Playing Ball at Sydney’s Field of Dreams #openingseries

The biggest weekend in Sydney’s baseball history is currently underway.

Since the announcement in June 2013 that the MLB was heading Downunder, Australia’s baseball fandom has eagerly awaited the arrival of the LA Dodgers and Arizona Diamondbacks to its shores and it’s finally time to play ball. The hallowed turf of the Sydney Cricket Ground has been transformed for the weekend into a baseball pitch, with 250 tonnes of San Diego clay being flown in for the occasion. Our very own field of dreams.

field of dreams

Sydney Cricket Ground tuned into a baseball field for #openingseries

It’s no secret I am a baseball tragic. How fortuitous then that the MLB chose to open its 2014 season away from North America in my hometown. As this is only the sixth time this has happened in  MLB history and the first time for Australia, there is a tremendous amount of anticipation for the event.

Each of the Diamondbacks and Dodgers play Team Australia (sometimes also known as Southern Thunder, but not by many) in a warm up clash and then it’s on to the main game Saturday night to be followed by a game on Sunday. That’s at least 36 innings of prime time A grade baseball.

Last night saw the first of the four games with Team Australia taking on the Dodgers. The above photo shows our view of the game. The Dodgers managed to win 4-2, but it was less about the score and more about the spectacle. The national anthems, the US flag flying alongside the Australian flag, a home run, the seventh inning stretch and classic baseball food. Like the nutritious meal below:

Pulled pork on lattice chips 'n' sides

Pulled pork on lattice chips ‘n’ sides

Scrumptious in a baseball helmet kind of way and almost resembling real food. None of that matters though, this is the MLB.

We sat behind the Dodgers dugout trying to spot baseball celebs like Clayton Kershaw and Don Mattingly. How close does an Aussie usually come to a $253million sports contract?  There were plenty of Dodgers fans in da house along with plenty of others dressed in their baseball kit. I am proud to say that the Boston Red Sox were proudly represented by more than a few fans in the fashion stakes (including moi) and it seemed like one big fancy dress party. As you can imagine there are usually not a whole lot of places in Australia an adult can wear their baseball kit.

It was a great night and a terrific lead in to the real deal tomorrow.

The whole event has been a long time coming for us Australian baseball fans. And when it’s all over the memories will linger and we will regale each other with stories from the great MLB opening series of 2014.

So a big thank you to the MLB, ABL (Australian Baseball League and owned by MLB), the Dodgers and the Diamondbacks for bringing the spectacle to our town. For at last Australian baseball fans can shout:

PLAY BALL!!!

Introducing the Basmati Rice Man Bag- Fashion Excellence at a Bargain Price

The Italian Stallion remarked the other day that he had not been mentioned in a blog post for a while. This surprised me as the Italian Stallion is generally quite private and has embraced social media to a far smaller degree than I have. However now that the cat is out of the family bag, I really must oblige by featuring him in this post.

The Universe must also have been listening because today it presented me with classic Italian Stallion blog fodder.

It all started with a joint trip to the supermarket for the weekly shop. This is an activity that we have shared at various points during the course of our relationship. There have also been many times when circumstances meant I did the grocery run solo. The aforementioned circumstances being when my piece of mind required it.

ID-10081436Recently it has started to be joint again, and really if you want one of the secrets to a happy marriage, it is this: keep your man away from your shopping trolley. I can handle being advised of inventory control in my run through the aisles “Don’t need that, we already have five packets of it at home” and I can even handle trolley packing for the gifted and talented for the Italian Stallion would never come home with a cracked egg or squashed bread. The Italian Stallion would also never come home with melted anything for he takes the cold product from the fridge or freezer and places it immediately into the cold bag, even though it may be 10 degrees Celsius outside. Such fastidiousness is to be admired if it wasn’t so aggravating in a OCD kind of way. But I am in my zen period, so I choose to keep calm and carry on.

The Italian Stallion is also ever vigilant in the cost savings department. This is not a problem in and of itself, who doesn’t want to save money? But the favoured mechanism of the Italian Stallion is the bulk buy. Let me give you an example, not so long ago I sent the Italian Stallion out for a solo shopping trip which included some carrots that we would serve with dips for some guests. Twenty minutes later, the Italian Stallion proudly waltzes in with a 5 kilogram bag of juicing carrots.

Let me put this in context, we don’t have a juicer. Juicing carrots are usually fatter and less sweet than eating carrots. There is no way our guests could consume one kilo of carrots let alone five.

Nevertheless, the Italian Stallion was beaming.

Today’s incident involved rice. Basmati rice to be exact. Now once again, we are not big rice eaters (yet) and we have been quite content with the white long grain or short grain variety. A one kilo bag usually lasts for a month or two. Despite this a two kilo pack of Basmati rice appeared in the pantry last week. Last week we did not have one meal containing rice, whether of the Basmati variety or otherwise.

The Italian Stallion has cooking chicken korma in his sights. For this, he says, Basmati rice is best. One can only hope that the chicken gets korma’d in the next week or so, because we now have enough Basmati rice to feed a small nation.

Back to our supermarket sojourn. On entering the supermarket we saw it. Snuck into the fruit and veg department was a pallet of 5 kilo bags of Basmati rice. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the Italian Stallion staring longingly at it. He goes over to the pile looks at the price and walks away. I inch the trolley towards the lettuce and mushrooms, thinking the Italian Stallion is behind me, following. Turning to my right, I notice the Italian Stallion once again looking the pile of Basmati rice. Trying the inventory control technique, I utter “we have a big pack at home, we don’t need it”. He agrees with me and reluctantly leaves the pile.

The latest in smart male fashion - the Basmati rice man bag

The latest in smart male fashion – the Basmati rice man bag

Making our way to the potatoes, I once again get the feeling the Italian Stallion is not with me. Sure enough he is back with the Basmati rice pile checking out the price and looking at it longingly. At this stage, I figure he needs to either buy that Basmati rice, never mind actual need, or move to Pakistan from where it originated. The later might be a bit tricky so…

I let him off the hook and say “If you want it, just buy it”.

No sooner do I utter the words, then he’s grabbing his bag of Basmati rice. He comes back triumphantly and deposits his prize in the trolley.

“What’s with all the Basmati rice?” I ask.

“Nothing, I just really liked the bag and its only $1.00 a kilo.”

Yes, dear readers, for the sake of a cloth printed bag with a zip up top, I will be eating Basmati rice for the next year. And the Italian Stallion will be sporting the latest in supermarket fashion. Lois Vuitton and Channel had better start worrying because the man bag has taken a whole new turn.

Have you ever bought something because you liked the packaging? Do you grocery shop with your spouse? if so, are you still talking to each other?

Are We Entitled To Comfort In Our Old Age?

telephoneIt is never a good sign when the landline rings before dawn. A phone call out of time brings with it the knowledge that it won’t convey good news as all of your loved ones are in the same time zone as you.

The 5am phone call started my day.

Within the hour I was frantically calling all manner of people trying to find out where they had taken my elderly mother. Information withheld because I could be any maniac (thanks to all the stalkers out there). I finally managed to track her down in the emergency room of the local hospital.

Hate this place for a whole lot of reasons, none of which have to do with illness, bodily parts or fluids. Mostly because it symbolises the system in all of its glory, loss of control and loss of time. This is not a stab at Australia’s hospitals or their staff. On a comparative world scale we have little to complain about. It is just the nature of hospitals. Inside those walls, time seems to slow and miscommunication and haphazardness seem to increase.

The good news is mum is physically fine for her age.

The bad news is that the past couple of years, loss of confidence and living in the comfort zone have taken their toll on her quality of life.

As I sat in the emergency ward killing time with the person who birthed me, shooting the breeze and making stupid small talk, inside my soul was screaming.

The notion of “use it or lose it” becomes far more obvious in old age.

And that is what has happened for my mother. She has lost much of her dexterity, mobility and strength. This is to be expected in old age. However in this case, the loss has been accelerated and magnified by a loss of confidence, motivation and movement generally.

It kills me, it really does. Not the physical loss per se, but my mother’s desire to stay in her comfort zone. This from the person who taught me to fight, strive, push and look beyond my front fence. This from the person who used to let nothing stop her, who used to let nothing stop my father and who never said “I can’t”.

My soul was screaming because I can see that comfort and safety are now her priority.

I want to yell “What about living and a life, mum?”

“Remember when there was a world beyond your front fence?”

“Remember when I was a little girl you told me I can, if I just tried a little more?”

beyond the fence

I constantly grapple with her perceived surrender. And then feel guilty because hasn’t she earned the right to seek comfort in her old age?

I know that those in old age who continue fighting and striving tend to live longer.

But is longevity the ultimate or even a legitimate goal in your eighties? Or is comfort the highest form of achievement?

It’s a personal choice in which I have no say. It’s a personal choice that I have to accept.

Maybe it’s time to let it be. Maybe at this age, the world to the front fence is enough.

Maybe it’s time for me to get comfortable with my mother’s comfort. Maybe that would be the ultimate sign of daughterly love.

And they say parenting is hard…

Why Are So Many Seats At The Table Taken By Empty Chair Leaders?

Trawling through LinkedIn recently, I came across an interesting article, entitled Are You Guilty of Being A Good Leader?

empty chairThe article suggests that there are far too many organisations saddled with “empty chair leaders” – high-powered executives who have convinced themselves they are worth following but who have failed to persuade the women and men they think they are leading. The author, John Ryan, goes on to suggest that whilst there are many organisations that are being led by good people, we don’t get to hear about them because they are busy doing their job and not promoting their own personal interests. This means we are being fed a one dimensional diet of leadership failure because this not only sells newspapers, but also because a lot of news reporting today relies on the press release.

However, media is not what I wanted to discuss today.

Lately, I have been feeling a vague disenchantment with the leaders who impact my sphere. The label for my disenchantment has alluded me up until this point, but the LinkedIn article has filled that void.  The expression “empty chair leaders” is right on the money.

I often question why those who appoint leaders constantly get it so wrong. Is it because the concept of leadership is rather subjective, the selection process so imperfect, because the defining characteristic of leadership is seen as being able to influence or is it because those who appoint are so easily influenced themselves?

Probably all of the above.

Empty chair leaders not only convince themselves they are worth following, they also convince their appointors of the same. And then they spend most of their time managing up and playing a perception game. But ask the people they lead, and you will get the real story. Strip away the leader’s followers, namely those who actually do the work, and what are you left with?  An A grade self promoter spouting team building rhetoric who is an expert in evading ownership of issues and problems. It doesn’t take long to figure out who is a true leader and who is not. These empty chair leaders have a limited shelf life in an organisation because after a time, roughly two years, they can no longer hide. It’s then on to the next gig.  Those who were led remain to mop up.

It is a cycle that is too often repeated and costs organisations dearly both in financial and human capital.

Photo courtesy of freedigital photos.net

Photo courtesy of freedigital photos.net

Our culture awards over confidence, perception and narcissism. These are easy to latch on to. The true qualities constituting leadership are harder to discern – humility, accountability, mentoring and respect. To discern them you need to see through the obvious. Or is that the appointors also work on perception? Is the job interview really just an audition for who can be the best public face of an organisation?

A cynical view, perhaps. However, having no formal leader is better than having an empty chair. An empty chair just takes up room at the table, much needed oxygen and usually has a negative impact on what is otherwise a functioning team.

It is time we looked beyond the obvious and really consider who can lay claim to the achievements on an empty chair’s CV. Everyone knows you don’t need to pad the right seat to be comfortable.

This post contains my views on corporate leadership. It is not intended to be a statement about American politics, Barack Obama, his presidency or Clint Eastwood.

Cheerio and Welcome to my Modern Day Cereal Drama

I have just finished my sixty ninth consecutive Cheerios breakfast.

Well, almost. I did break up the series one day a couple of weeks ago when I luxuriated in a breakfast of home-made fig jam. I can assure you that the maker of said fig jam did not come from this home for I wouldn’t want my image of the undomestic Goddess to be tarnished. If people know you can cook, it only creates pesky expectations even if you can only sort of cook, so better not to go there.

calm breakfast

This less than cheerful Cheeriofest started some months ago when youngest (Geekchild) proclaimed that he absolutely loves Cheerios and could I please round up some in my weekly hunting and gathering trip to the supermarket. Geekchild obtains all of his gourmet tastes from American cartoons such as the Family Guy, American Dad and the Simpsons. Thanks to Homer, Peter Griffin and whatever name the American Dad group go by we have had to try banana cream pie, buffalo wings and corn dogs.

None of these wonder foods figure on the Australian menu. And to think mindless, satirical cartoons were non-educational – ha! Judge my parenting if you must, but I’m always up for feeding (pun intended) my children’s desire to learn about other cultures and expand their taste bud horizon. And no, I don’t indulge their sweet tooth, their takeaway food tooth or give into their every whim and desire. It just so happens that I, too, have always wanted to know what in the world was banana cream pie.

Needless to say, a couple of bites in and both Geekchild’s and my curiosity and palate were satisfied. We can now tick banana cream pie off our bucket (pun intended) lists and can appreciate why it does not figure on the Australian menu.

What is this thing called breakfast?

What is this thing called breakfast?

But back to the Cheerios. It just so happens that the Cheerios request happily coincided with a visit to Costco. And there it was the beacon of Cheerios down the end of the aisle beckoning and seducing me with its corn, wheat, oats and rice, 10 vitamins and minerals and no artificial flavours. All 650 gram giant double packs of it.

Me: “Great, they’ve got it, Geekchild is really going to be impressed”

The Committee: “Two packs of 650 gram cereal is too much. Geekchild will be eating Cheerios for 120 consecutive days”

Me: “But it’s here, now. Soooooo convenient”

The Committee: “You can always get a smaller pack back at your local supermarket”

Me: “Listen Committee, when you start having to cope with the strangeness of teens eating habits, you will know that having them eat breakfast before lunchtime is a major achievement. Decision overruled”.

And so here I am some months later eating my sixty ninth consecutive bowl of semi stale Cheerios. Geekchild has had box of cheeriostwo. There’s only about 25 more to go for in one of my more particularly grey moments I bought an additional smaller box from my local supermarket thinking that Geekchild would benefit only to find that the level in the open box had not fallen in a month. You see teenagers don’t tend to tell you when their food passions wane, you are meant to pick up these vibes through subliminal mind transfer and your abilities as a parental oracle.

Uncle Tobys or Nestle if you are reading this please DON’T send me any more Cheerios. I’m grateful that my modern day cereal drama is almost at an end, the finishing line is in sight.

Things I have learned from this experience: everything in moderation and there’s no use crying over stale Cheerios.

Last night, Geekchild came to me and said “this V8 juice is great mum, can you buy another five bottles?” At which point 25 bowls of Cheerios bathed in fruit/vegetable juice flashed before my eyes and I escaped to take refuge in my pantry.

The sacrifices we make for our children…

Have you ever been the victim of your child’s food fads? Are you ever concerned about their eating habits? Would you like a bowl of stale Cheerios?

10 Last Thoughts In The Dying Hours of My Fifth Decade

So, it is done and it is true what that say, life really does go on.

vintage birthdayAs the day loomed and time in its relentless pursuit marched on, the smell of my fear became more pungent. Whilst my determination to make middle age an era of opportunity and adventure is absolute there was just something about actually crossing over the great divide that I could not wrap my mind around. A moment in time, a mere second and here I am on the other side of fifty.

Whilst the great event occurred a couple of days ago, I have only now plucked up the courage to recount my thoughts during the dying moments of what has undoubtedly been my best decade. For my fourth decade was when I asked:

Hello, is it me you’re looking for?

and my forty something year old self echoed back a resounding

 

YES!!

In line with the great “one day I’ll look back on this and laugh” tradition, I penned the following in the dying hours of my forty-ninth year :

  1. Sometime overnight I’m going to cross the great abyss. Logically, I know I’ll awaken in the same bed, in the same body, but sometime during the night when the moon steals the light from the sun, time will steal from me another decade.
  2. Politicians really do write to you on your 50th birthday, on rather posh looking stationary containing a signature that was actually penned by a human. This is not to infer that politicians are human, but apparently reaching 50 is seen by some as a great achievement. I understand at 75 there will be a telegram from HRH. Chances are by that stage HRH will be a him and I suspect that the birthday greeting may come in the form of a tweet. I mean, who sends telegrams anymore?
  3. I have no need to lament the loss of perky boobs or a thin waist. I never had them during what most people would consider my heyday. My confidence and body have now finally crossed paths and whilst there’s a few things I would tweak, I’m certainly not crying over the loss of my 20’s body. In fact, I’d be crying if I still had it.50 years of awesome
  4. Is there something pre-ordained at birth about being chosen to live a counter-cyclical life? Sure, my life has proceeded down along the conventional route of birth, school, university, marriage, career, motherhood and mortgage. However, emotionally I have never felt better or more adventurous. With the boys getting older, it is now all ahead of me.
  5. Sometimes I look at people the same age as me and am overcome with the sensation that I am surrounded by old people. Not that age has anything to do it with per se, but I wonder if they look at me and feel the same. I sincerely hope not. Particularly as I’m just regaining some relevance and credibility to my teenaged progeny. Surely it’s about outlook and energy levels, people!
  6. I seem to be entering the age when it is fashionable to engage in “unwellness” contests. This shits me to tears. I can’t understand why anyone would want to compete to have the most complex health problems or the most famous specialist treating them. Since when did having a health problem become a social status symbol? Don’t get me wrong, when people talk about their health problems I will listen patiently, but I don’t see the need to raise the stakes by out “bad healthing” them. It takes me back to the days of playgroup and new mothers competing over who had the worst labour stories. Ick!
  7. Patience really is a virtue and I’m getting more virtuous as the years roll on. Another counter-cyclical trait?
  8. One of the best decisions I made was not to have a big birthday bash, but to make this a jubilee year and have lots of little jazz agecelebrations over the length of it. From celebrating with friends on different continents to high tea in the mountains, the celebrations will focus on our shared milestone of friendship not about my individual milestone of reaching 50.
  9. I’m actually younger than Michelle Obama – go figure.
  10. Zzzzzzzzzzzzz well, by then it was 10.45 pm.

Having survived the fall over the abyss, I’m moving forward smug in the knowledge that there’s another 10 years to go before I have to worry about another milestone birthday and that it won’t involve correspondence from a politician.

Have you ever received birthday greetings from a politician? Do you stress about milestone birthdays?