Month: August 2011

Rage against the machine

 

A war is being raged in this house and I SHALL BE THE VICTOR!

Sure, it’s been attacking my morale, calling me to question my whole approach to parenting, undermining my confidence and lulling me into false hope with occasional ceasefires but I WILL NOT SURRENDER.

This battle happened with the stealth-like characteristics just like most battles do. A squirmish here, a negotiation there until whoomf all hell breaks loose.

On the one side is me.

On the other is a burly conglomerate of electronic devices, gaming consoles and computing devices resorting to the dirty tactics of recruiting my children in to do their tawdry work.

Since the beginning of this year there’s been the no television at night rule. Primarily because I couldn’t take the clanging of cymbals it resembled in my head but also because homework is now a serious deal for some and silence – or the illusion of such – is growing in importance.

For as long as I can remember there has been a blanket no console games (xBox, Playstation, Wii) during the week.

Technically there has been a no-technology (ie computer) after 7pm rule as well but that has been tricky to police as I try to clean up from dinner and deal with all the other stuff raising 100 children involves.

But the console and computer games saw this weakness and have been slowly creeping over these battlelines for several months, occasionally more aggressively through the form of tantrums and fighting and more subversively through good behaviour and reward systems.

The casualties of this war have – as can now be seen with the benefit of hindsight – sibling infighting, poor communication between comrades and combatants, lowered tolerance, disappearance of empathy and the rise of the Reactive Parenting Technique*, aka yelling. A lot.

The situation reached such a point I was daydreaming of just walking out of the house – many times – over the course of a weekend. I was miserable. The boys behaviour to each other and to me (and Chef and Grandmama) was appalling.

So I tasered them. Metaphorically of course. There’s no way I’m going to prison for this lot.

No, this was my taser: THAT IS IT. NO XBOX, NO PLAYSTATION, NO WII. AT ALL. INDEFINITELY. THAT MEANS UNTIL I SAY SO.

(It annoys me how you have to explain yourself while yelling – it’s like slamming the soft-close drawer.)

 

I knew they knew I was serious by the complete lack of response. This is also known as “shock”.

 

Of course, they found a loophole and moved their frontline to the computer to satiate their need for mindless bright colours moving across the screen with some awful muzak. I conceded this ground until last Saturday morning when Jasper reacted with the equivalent verocity as you would if you’d have a limb ripped from your body by a speeding car.

 

This time the assault went something like this: THAT IS IT – THE COMPUTER IS NOW ADDED TO THE BAN!

 

Shock AND Awe boys, shock and awe.

 

 

And then something happening. I think it was because all bets were off, all cards were on the table, there was no room for negotiation, no trade-offs, it was a total, complete fullstop.

They didn’t ask for it. They just got on with … living.

Within 24 hours there was play, sibling jibes taken with good humour, GAMES and all the rest.

With each passing day the peace becomes more assured. Bouyant even.

I would say that the past two afternoon-evenings are pretty close to my idea of perfect.

I am not shitting you. The results have been nothing if not breath-taking.

But I know this won’t last. As this becomes the new normal something will creep back in or something will step up and suddenly I’ll be having to re-evaluate all over again.

I know a blanket ban on these things is not sustainable. For these guys computers, console games and some form of connectivity is as much part and parcel of their day as matchbox cars, barbie, wendy walker, scalextric and strawberry shortcake were for us.

So where to?

1. I’m going to ride this baby for as long as I can

2. We’re reigniting Team Berry and as part of that bringing in a weekly family meeting. The idea behind that is regaining control and giving the boys a heads up on what is expected of them. So we’re going to look at what is happening during the week for each of us and then discuss which Family Value we’re going to work on that week. Remember our Family Values?:

THEN we let them know the consequences if that Family Value is not adhered to, the first punishment being something like no dessert/ice cream, the second having far more gravitas (so IF using rights are reinstated for the console games on the weekends they will lose that).

 

So there you have it. I tell you, this parenting gig is a rollercoaster and a half. Just when you think you’ve nutted it out aWHOOSHka it all goes to hell in a handbasket and you have to re-evaluate everything you’re doing.

I’ve been really buffeted by the last few weeks and was at quite the ebb over it.

But here we are, a new strategy at the fore.

 

ONWARD!

 

 

 

* The Reactive Parenting Technique is that perfected by our parents’ generation – you know:

Parent: put that down

Child: NO

Parent: I asked you to put that down

Child: NO I DON’T WANT TO

Parent: GILBERT I asked you to put that down. PUT IT DOWN NOW.

Child: YOU CAN’T MAKE ME!

Parent: *SMACK* DON’T YOU DARE TALK TO ME LIKE THAT. GO TO YOUR ROOM

CHILD:  NO! I HATE YOU.

… and so on and so forth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m not sure this is what they meant…

… about being authentic

 

I’m not sure this is what they meant by authentic from Kim at allconsuming on Vimeo.

Dreams

For years when the bigger boys were little I felt I was less in a holding pattern and more in a swirling vortex sucking me into oblivion.

I scratched at a career through various freelance gigs and slowly accepted that perhaps I was a good writer after all.

Then I went back into a salaried gig and loved being a part of something. Being recognised as good at my job and that sense of accomplishment and personal satisfaction that can come from being part of a dynamic little team who love and respected one another and was respected by others within the organisation.

THEN I experienced the flip side of working in an organisation where you are, ultimately, a worker bee. Expendable. Where the words of support and encouragement to you are not matched by actions and hard decisions that must be made are not. At your expense.

THEN I had babies and small children all over again and I don’t know if it was perspective, age or a combination of both but I found myself very happy with being at home. Wanting it in fact. Relishing my role as mama bear.

I still do.

Strange isn’t it. 10-12 years ago I felt I was going insane being at home, being left behind, forgotten. Overlooked.

Now – apart from the obvious loud and stinky brain farts that come from children wanting to do craft activities or go to hell the park or the relentless sibling fighting which quite frankly would make the baby Jesus cry – I am proud of what I do. Of raising these young boys into confident fine young men. Of being here for them.

But there is a disquiet that has been simmering oh so gently in the deeper recesses of my being.

Sooz’s post has prompted me to put words to it.

I have a business of my own I am hatching. It is currently with a manufacturer and is still very much in the planning phase. There will be fine-tuning of its design, issues with its production, packaging, distribution, intellectual property and trademark registration, logo, website creation and marketing to come.

I have been mulling on this idea for the better part of five years. That it could even come this close to being a reality puts a fire in my belly that I haven’t had for quite some time.

I know it will work. I know it has scope to grow to something much bigger and that excites me even more.

I am not scared it won’t work. In fact that hasn’t even really entered my thought process. It is starting small with (hopefully) minimal financial outlay and if it just trickles along for a while so be it.

It will be mine.

Of course there are other factors I must account for – we are in the enviable position of being able to live in Sydney in a wonderful location due to my mum’s generosity.

It appears to me – from my very limited knowledge of world financial markets but rather obsessive news and international affairs interests – that we are on the verge, if not already there, of a period of major worldwide “badness”.

Yesterday, with the best intentions for me at heart, I was essentially told my business would not take off and I should really consider another path. A safer path. A reliable path.

And you know what?

NO.

For much of my life I have settled for second best, for what works best for others, for what is easiest or the least disruptive and look, don’t get me wrong, I’m not sitting here on a bed of resentment and bitterness about that. They were decisions I made. Sure, some were made without me realising that was what I was doing but equally many were quite conscious choices.

So now, I am making a very conscious decision to do something I really want to do. I need to give this a red hot go.

I need to live my goddamn life.

 

ONWARD!

 

Big fat rainbow vs big fat clot

 

 

Behold: Mummy has an owie. The nurse at our GP bandaged it today and was aghast I hadn’t gone to the hospital when I did it last night. I was like, dude, I wasn’t even going to come to the GP with it except I have this ankle issue. So much blood. SO PAINFUL. Mummy went a little woozy.

I’m feeling a little fragile tonight. Stuff with Felix, failed DIY projects, fights with family members, moving the house from one end of the house to the other. Then the ankle, the thumb and now the finger. And the tetanus shot.

The doctor is concerned about the ankle. It is ‘highly unusual’ for bruising with such an injury to go up the leg. I’m really hoping this doesn’t fall into the ‘highly unusual’ category that we were in when Oscar’s pregnancy went to hell in a handbasket. I have to have an ultrasound to check I don’t have a blood clot. I have to get it x-rayed to check I haven’t cracked/chipped the bone.

This was meant to happen this afternoon, but I was (FINALLY) meeting someone – M, a friend – who I met on Twitter, then discovered we were also connected through K and now have a total girl crush on. We were meeting on the other side of town.

I kind of TOTALLY forgot about getting back for the x-ray and scan. I had this weird thought in my head to keep an eye on the time but would then dismiss it because Chef was home and had it all in hand. Then, 15 minutes before I was meant to be there I remembered. WHOOPS.

Now I’m meant to be going tomorrow afternoon at 3.15 but K has a surprise trip to Sydney with my god-daughter in tow and I am their designated driver for the day. AND we’re hooking up with M in the morning.

Tomorrow is  like getting smacked in the head with a big fat rainbow for me and there’s no way I’m missing it or diluting it with stupid scans and the like.

Take that stupid body.