B4K

B4K was a time I remember so fondly – sleep-ins, going to posh/grown-up restaurants, reading a newspaper cover to cover, sitting through an entire movie without falling asleep, and when a toilet cubicle was just for 1. I also remember being quietly confident that whenever I did have children, they wouldn’t be as naughty like the ones I saw out in public. I’m the first to say I have made some mistakes in my life (permed hair is right up there!), but blaming parents for their children’s behaviour was never on my radar for being wrong. Then karma came and bit me right on the arse.

Oh crap – the things I used to do! I was THAT person who used to screw up my nose when I found out children were in the same part of the airplane as moi, I used to rolled my eyes when I saw a mum or dad losing the plot because their own child wouldn’t do as they were told, and I used to shake my head when I saw a child dressed in uncoordinated clothes. Then I got the shock of my life – I became a parent, twice!

Fast forward to the Naughties. I am in my thirties and a mum of two girls. This is a feat in itself – world’s worst needle phobic survives not 1 but 2 labours! Anyway, the messy bit aside, I have to admit that it has been a very slow and painful lesson – apparently kids do what the hell they want! Laugh all you like but there is nothing wrong with being positive when faced with the prospect of raising a child. I personally blame those cute babies in shopping centres and also my mum – why the heck does she only remember the good bits about rearing her own children. “You kids never did anything like that” is a constant reminder that I have somehow managed to rear 2 kids who draw similar characteristics to the Simpsons family and not my own genetic pool – hello, what is wrong with this picture?

So all that prepping of our little “bumps” must have been a load of rubbish as I clearly told my girls how they were to do exactly what I asked, that mummy will always be right, I will be the ‘fun’ parent, don’t marry until you are 30, and most importantly daddy will have heart failure if you go on a date before you are 25. So where did I go wrong?

My youngest girl (2yrs) is a handful like most 2nd kiddies – with a difference! She thinks what comes out of her nose is part of her 5 daily food groups. She insists on dressing herself every day (Madame Chanel would be beside herself!), she copies me by putting on ‘her face’ every morning before I go to work, but best of all she adores (and secretly aspires to be just like) her big sister - a no no in sibling land apparently. The big sister (the 6yr old going on 20!) thinks shopping is equivalent to needle vaccinations, she is retail aware and thinks she is a better dancer than I (clearly worst judgement of her young life). So I have managed to be pretty busy in my 6 years of being “mother of the year” – getting spewed on, pooed on, faced tantrums in public (more often than not!), had my hair tied in double knots (my kiddies think they are trained hairdressers when they see my hair out in the same room as a hairbrush!), and the ones etched into my memory - food tipped on my newly groomed hair and also being asked by a security guard to return items to a shop that my daughter decided to stick into her handbag. Weirdly though, some parents don’t even raise an eyebrow – they’ve experienced worse!

So in true optimistchic fashion, I am now a realistic parent (it took me a while but I have arrived with a thump!) who needs to be on to these mini me’s like super glue. Although I will always continue to love their beautiful ways and can’t imagine my life without them, I need to try different tactics to entertain and help them blossom into upstanding citizens. The things I have come up with so far are to:
• try like a superhero to see through their cute armour and tune into exactly what they are up to (i.e. nothing is always something);
• be patient at their ‘short person syndrome’ antics (i.e. full moon days);
• restrain my ‘rolling of the eyes’ for any parents I see that are stressed out of their minds (maybe handing them a vodka in their moment of need might win me citizen of the year?);
• wish and encourage them to be happy and successful in their own right (achievements closely aligned to Bill Gates and Richard Branson - a parent can and should always dream!); and last but not least:
• adopt a stiff upper lip on those full moon days (Madame Chanel missed quoting that bit in her minimalist advice).

So now that I am going to be more realistic about parenting, it kind of feels good. Can I be completely reformed? Time will tell, and the temptations are around - those local shopping centres are a mecca for examples. So in helping my own campaign, I need your help (yep another one of those ‘it’s all about moi’ moments). Please remember to be sympathetic in my situation as a parent of two crafty little vegemites, and if you see me out and about and I’m looking a little pressured, it’s probably a full moon moment and my kiddies are trying it on. So please don’t feel shy – any help, guidance or offer of a stiff drink will be greatly appreciated.

Dedicated to all those cool parents who have given me loads of practical tips over the years to help keep me sane(ish). Happy New Year everyone! Tx

True love in a bottle

As much as I am a romantic at heart and believe in true love (that’s as soppy as I get I promise!), I have always been very sceptical of those that say they have found true love when they are young. Up until two weeks ago, I would have laughed if someone told me that there really are people out there who have a ‘strength’ in selecting lifelong partners when they have little or no relationship experience. An 18 year old who knows the difference between infatuation and love – oh please give me a bucket!

I was only chatting to a friend the other day and one of the questions I asked her stuck in my mind. I asked her what age she was when she married her hubby – wait for it…..21. OMG! She then said they dated for a couple of years before that, so it was obvious to me that this man (who she is still happily betrothed to) was her teenage sweetheart (oh bless!). What surprised me was my reaction. I was overcome with a feeling of happiness and gooeyness at the thought that there are people who do get it right first time. But, hello! What’s wrong with this picture and why did I feel so good about it? Where has the cynic in me gone?

The real ‘me’ pretends to puke when she hears a soppy love story and loves one of Olympia Dukakis’ lines in Steel Magnolias – “…if you don’t have anything nice to say about anybody, come sit by me”. So what’s happened? Am I that soft now that it only takes one soppy love story to change my views on relationships forever? Maybe there is hope for me yet!

Previously, I thought there can’t be any better test to whether a relationship would work than experience. The ‘try before you buy’ stage of ones’ life. I’m not talking about being a complete tart (or whatever the guy version is – something tells me there isn’t one), but finding out the type of person you truly click with takes time and A LOT of dedication and understanding (i.e. leaving the toilet seat up is not the end of the world if everything else is hunky dory). Also, the type of person you might think you would suit, in practise might drive you completely insane. I might have fancied Tom Cruise at one point (don’t go there) but I’m sure his ‘short person syndrome’ approach to life would have got way too much for even me to bear.

So why was I such a late bloomer in the life partner thing (another way of saying why was I so rubbish)? I remember my first crush – like it was yesterday. The cute chubby boy. My friends didn’t get it, but for some reason I saw potential (mostly from afar). From all reports he grew up and into a dashing chap, but in my world physical improvements alone don’t necessarily mean someone is fabulous inside and out. Thank the Lord my choices did improve greatly since him and I was pretty much on the right track once I reached my twenties, as my selection from the single men pool prior to meeting my hubby had similar characteristics – great career prospects, hardworking, extroverts, lovely smiles and they made me laugh. Oh and nice bums - what more could a girl want? Regardless, I’m quite happy knowing that I met my husband at the age I did and have no desire to change that part. I’d change my hairstyles (oh God don’t get me started on fashion disasters), but not much else.

So how will this new moi react? This is the interesting bit – what will life be like for the ‘changed’ me?
· Meet someone who is still with their teenage sweetheart: FROM -> cringing (on the inside) TO -> I will now think and feel that everything is wonderful.
· Get asked for advice with these type of relationships: FROM -> advising to dump asap TO -> I will be interested in giving tips to help
· What is so bad with meeting ‘the one’ in late teen years?: FROM -> ‘where do I start’ TO -> appreciating that it can be a good thing and it’s possible to have the best of both worlds (grow up and face the long term stuff together)

So now that I AM (almost) the person who is focussed on what people have (connection rather than material) and not what they might have missed out on by getting married so young, I just need some practice to see if my new outlook is to be short lived (or not). Never said I was perfect!

Is there anything else that’s good about it? Damn right there is! For some reason it’s the not–so-talked-about aspect and it works the same as Botox without the needles. Yep, you heard it first from me. This is obviously baseless in terms of scientific research (I am after all someone who makes big baseless statements almost daily!), but there’s no denying that my friend (the married at 21 lady) looks younger than her actual age and every time I see her she is always happy - you know the type that always look like they are up to something because it’s not possible to be that happy that often! Well that’s her. Maybe avoiding the standard scenarios that come with young relationships (dumping and being dumped) early on in life is part of her secret?

Anyway, for now I have lots to be positive about. I’m a little less cynical about other people’s lives and my motto is - it’s your journey. Depending on how it is used though, it can be a good descriptor or completely condescending to someone – so versatile (love it!). So moi is no longer going to focus on someone’s age as a measure of their ability to decide on their love life and instead appreciate who they are as a person and respect their decision. Unless it’s my daughters then I freak out and rethink my entire argument (but I’ve got a few years till that might happen).

So, where to now? If you are one of those who have been fortunate in finding true love first time round - bravo, congrats, fabuloso, and well done you. I can now honestly applaud you without a hint of sarcasm and at the same time I need a favour - I’m only human after all! Whatever you have within you to be so spot on with your choice of partner (oh and being able to stay so happy and youthful) – don’t be so damn selfish and share it. I want to bottle it. You might not realise this because you are so damn happy and content with life but the majority of the world’s singleton population out there would kill for what you have to share. So when I find you (and I will), don’t be surprised if I kidnap you for a wee while to crack this secret code you have going on. Not for selfish reasons though (hi hubby!), I happen to have friends who could do with your help and given the selfless gal that I am (almost saintly I know), I’m happy to be the one to make you talk. The things I put my hand up for………….Tx

Dedicated to Nicola, Angelique and all those who got it right early on……. you look so damn young and happy it makes me sick!

So what’s your secret?

How important is it to understand someone – I mean really understand them? My Nan used to tell me (and anyone else who would listen for that matter) that she and her sister were the prettiest girls in Kyogle (country town in northern nsw for those who haven’t a clue where it is). I also can’t forget to mention her other most repeated story – she was related to Dame Elizabeth Taylor. Regardless of the topic (usually about her), there was nothing she wouldn’t talk about. My mother-in-law was a similar type of person to my Nan – she could talk till the cows came home about anything and everything. I thought I knew everything about her too – then she died.

I’m obviously not blaming her for dying – I’m no saint but that is one step too far even for moi! I just happened to be at her funeral (as you do) a few weeks ago when I found out something shocking about her. No, she didn’t have a secret life as a Granny drug dealer nor was she working for the MI6 (although I’m sure she would have made a splendid M in one of the Bond films or failing that a very good Mrs Mangel if Neighbours were to ever recast that role). But she did have a secret. Apparently, she was part of the team that developed the contraceptive pill. Like wow – how did this topic get superseded by all those other stories about her going to the local shops? Am I that self absorbed (or so into shopping) that she didn’t feel I would want to hear all about it?

The moment that I heard this new bit of information, I sat and contemplated lots of things which centred pretty much on why didn’t she talk about being part of an amazing medical advancement? After thinking nasty thoughts of myself (oh and multi tasking at the same time - I was still at her funeral!), the picture got a little worse. Her own children didn’t even know! Yes indeed, so it’s fair to say that I don’t feel so bad now but still the question remains - how did this information go unnoticed? Why would the woman I had known for almost 15 years neglect to tell me, let alone her own two children, something as cool as this?

Now don’t go and conjure up a picture of me not listening to her stories or even neglecting to talk about things that mattered to her. I think I heard a million stories (loads of repeats but still I listened). From who was doing what, her social outings, who was the most recent person to peeve her off, her shopping expeditions, her travels around the world, her old partying escapades, and the list goes on. So how can someone I had many conversations with not think that being part of medical history wasn’t worth boasting about? Then it got me thinking – how can you be expected to really know someone if they don’t fill you in on everything?

Well, I have the answer – you can’t, it’s not my fault and I’m not a bad person. She should have told me and the rest of the family what she did – you can’t go around thinking everyone is holding out on you with interesting information, can you? I have only used probing questions in interview scenarios (oh and for girlfriends who are notorious for not sharing gossip), but it never ever crossed my mind that I should also use the technique to extract the most inner thoughts and experiences from friends and family. Then the story turned a wee bit worse recently. After discussing my mother-in-law’s contribution to medicine with my father-in-law last weekend, he decides to add another guilty blow to my already injured ego – he was part of the team to develop the first ever foetal heart rate monitor. Yep another bit of information I seemed to have stumbled upon by accident, and so the seed was sewn for this post.

I have been known to turn up with a list of questions when catching up with certain friends (the ones that are very very good at changing the subject). I have only had to resort to this a couple of times as I believe that I can’t expect to be a true friend if I don’t even know who they are dating. One friend comes to mind (Kate) who I took this exact approach with (she is probably still in therapy at the experience) – think turning up on her doorstep with an A4 sheet of paper full of questions double sided. Needless to say, I knew Kate was holding out on me with said information but I never had any inkling that my in-laws were as well.

I used to think that there were two types of people: (i) people who constantly talked about their favourite subject - themselves (the anal boaster), and (ii) people who didn’t unless there was something worthy to boast about (the considerate boaster). I have now added a third category I’d like to label ‘the vaults’ (for obvious reasons).

For the record I’m one of the ‘considerates’ (unless I get a book deal then my behaviour might resemble an ‘anal’ for a short period I promise!), but it feels like everyone else at the moment could be a potential ‘vault’. Do I have to resort to turning up on their doorsteps with prepared questions so I don’t feel so rubbish again for not knowing vital information about them (forget their blood type I’m talking about their own involvement in global domination etc). My friend Kate is probably going to change her address upon reading that I might have take 2 with her (funny to do but not the long term solution I’m hoping for). So I guess the solution will have to be in the form of this three stage approach:

i. when next catching up with friends and family I will ask them straight out what amazing things they have done so far in their lives (ending with a warning similar to those used in financial advertisements – if they hold out on important information it’s their fault and not mine);
ii. hope they get the message when they read this post and know that I’m on my way; and
iii. if I feel I’m not getting the necessary information I want from them, the only thing left to do it spy on them. My abilities at this will most likely resemble a really bad version of Maxwell Smart but a gal has to do something if she is to find things out.

For the interim, it looks like I have to take a business plan approach to my personal life and address what things people have been holding out from me. I can’t do anything about those that have gone to the pearly gates (bless their cotton socks!), but I can at least give it a go with the ones still kicking around on this lovely planet. Who knows, I may even be able to turn some of those ‘vaults’ into ‘considerates’, but hopefully stopping them just shy of turning into an annoying ‘anal’. BTW – avoid these people like the plague, cross streets to avoid bumping into them – you get the drift!

So who’d have thought a death of a loved one could cause me this much emotional turmoil (forget being six feet under, it’s all about me remember!). I guess because of her though, I am on another mission (Santa’s list is nothing compared to mine) to turn things around and make me a better person. So try what you like to avoid me, but I’m on a mission and God help you if you get in my way! Tx

Dedicated to all those friends and family I’m about to annoy