LIKE most children mine have their failings.
But consumerism, so pervasive among kids, is not one of them.
They don't own all the electronic gadgetry because, among other things, it would drive me crazy trying to police the use of it.
So, when they ask for something I don't dismiss it out of hand. That was until the eldest, 10, started making noises about a tent.
I'm no snob but camping has not figured in my repertoire and it's not something I want to add now.
People insist if you camped as a kid you have fond memories.
Soon all three kids, at the instruction of the eldest, began a chorus of "can we get a tent for Christmas?".
It was ringing in my ears as I ducked into Kathmandu and did the sums. This tent could pay for itself in a few nights.
The sub-plot was that they could go with their Dad. Afterall, he's the one with the fond childhood memories.
The eldest asked if ``Santa'' brought a tent would it be set up in the loungeroom.
This troubled me. It was too big for inside and probably even our courtyard. There could be tears on Christmas morning when they found Santa had left a canvas bag weighing 24 kg.
Then I heard Big4 was offering a free night of camping. The most convenient was in the Western Suburbs.
My plan was for my husband and I to set it up for the kids as a surprise while they were at school and creche. He knew better than to resist. In any case, he was working that afternoon so wouldn't be there for the animal hour.
The day arrived last Friday and we took the tent from its hiding place and made our way to Braybrook. A dust storm came through and we hung on to the tent for dear life. An English couple, happily ensconced in their van, took pity on us as did a nice bloke from New South Wales down for the Pearl Jam concert.
``It's usually a good idea to have a practice run at home,'' he advised.
Three-quarters through, we realised the porch would hang half way across the road, so we left it dangling.
We raced home and grabbed some basic gear and I picked the kids up, telling them I had some jobs to do.
As we rounded the corner, the children were excited. Then came the big moment. ``Awesome'' they declared as they bumped around as if they were on a jumping castle.
After dinner at a nearby pokies pub, I picked up a slab to give to my Good Samaritans.
"Big night," a Grey Nomad asked as he stepped from his well-appointed caravan. I explained our adventure.
"You usually do a practice run at home," he said.
After a swim everyone was asleep at 9pm. Then my husband turned up at midnight looking for a key for the loo. His usual ride home was confused when he said he was off to Braybrook not Richmond. ``Have you split from your missus, Mate?" he asked.
Too early we found ourselves breakfasting at McDonalds early on Saturday.
The two eldest were wearing their school uniforms because in the rush a change of clothes was forgotten.
"It's OK, no one knows us,'' I promised.
Back home, they were buzzing, hoping we may be able to leave Melbourne for our next trip.
It's reinforced my view that they do not need gadgets to have fun. But, I'm making no commitments. I am too consumed with trying to get the tent back into the bag.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Monday, November 2, 2009
Overdressed
THIS supermumwannabe has finally run up the white flag.
It's hard to say what particular event in the past week tipped me over the edge.
It may have been the row with the four-year-old last Friday morning about what outfit she would wear to creche for dress-up day.
The kids donated a gold coin to pay for the randy resident rabbits to get ``fixed up'' because they were getting too cranky.
The previous day she had settled on a particular Angelina Ballerina outfit, wisely eschewing the one that had busted seams.
But come 7.40am, as we prepared to take the second child and his friend to the before-school chess session, she had changed her mind.
So, in between wiping sleep from eyes and sponging toothpaste marks off tops, I was doing a shoddy job of mending the dress.
At bedtime the night before the eldest child, who had four weeks to research and answer four simple questions and type them up, realised she had left her draft at school.
That meant after chess drop off we had to pick up the notes and head to the cafe so she could type up her homework on the laptop and put it on a memory stick and print it out at school.
But the seeds were sown earlier in the week when Special Friends Day was staged. The two school aged children were happy to have their Dad go along which was a bonus because that meant we, read me, did not have to hit the phones trying to rope ``special'' people in.
The kids dressed up as book characters with an emphasis on animals.
My son was happy to go as knockabout cat Old Tom from the Leigh Hobbs' series. At the weekend I headed to the Op Shop to buy an orange flannelette sheet for the body. The plan was to sew up some loose fitting pants and top but I ran out of time what with other weekend commitments. We cut a hole in the sheet and draped it around him, fashioned some ears and added the requisite scars and bung eye. He carried a plastic fishbone. My daughter was going as a creature from Where the Wild Things Are. I bought orange wool and wrapped it around cardboard to create tassels that were sown into a pantyhose gusset (minus the legs) to make a wig. She had a furry coat to complete the effect. Sure, it was all simple and unsophisticated but it still took hours.
The next day was another prep transition session for the four-year-old at 2.30pm. I was at work but because my husband was starting work at 4pm he took her.
Then on Thursday, the kids galloped from their classroom with more great news.
The Melbourne Cup was going to make a pitstop at our school and they should dress up in jockey colors!
So, at 3am the next morning during a restless night I found myself thinking about jockey colours and how best we could execute this. All very simply, mind you.
In, fact for the next couple of days I mulled over how this could be done simply. But there was some respite because I then turned my attention to a low-key Halloween celebration on the Saturday night. While people decry it as crass American commercialism, we like to think of it as an Irish festival. My son turned his Old Tom outfit into a pumpkin turban, my older daughter pinned a Batman cape to her black t-shirt and donned a witches hat. The pesky youngest suitably put on a vampire outfit because I often feel she is sucking the lifeblood out of me.
I delivered some goodies to the pre-arranged stop off points for ``trick or treat''. Then we headed off and luckily for us a friend of a friend happened to be related to Olympic medallist Steve Hooker. He answered the door and there was much excitement.
But come Sunday it was back to jockey colors.
I reached for the formguide and the decision was quick. The kids would go as Allez Wonder's jockey. It meant I had to draw a yellow shamrock, cut it out, back it with some cardboard and pin it to their red school tops.
The morning, despite the fact that more than half the school was AWOL on a long weekend, was fantastic.
When my children related the week's activities to their interstate grandmother she was horrified.
``I can't believe all these things, it is just too much,'' she said.
The children had omitted to tell her about their dad doing fruit duty at kinder, a working bee for creche and the myriad of other excursion and incursion forms, raffle selling rosters and the like that all had to be dealt with in that same week.
I know daughters-in-law aren't supposed to agree with their mothers-in-law, but I do on this one.
I don't know what the answer is. Having less children. Ignore all the dress up days and then your kids feel sad and left out. Attend community run creches/kinders but refuse to help out.
Discourage schools from all these extras so they can focus on the basics.
In the meantime, we're bracing for a another few big weeks. The four-year-old gets her Buddy for next year, her older sister becomes a Buddy and then there's Christmas choir practice, excursions to Healesville and Werribee zoos ...
Thankfully, the only one dressing up this week is me - on Oaks Day.
It's hard to say what particular event in the past week tipped me over the edge.
It may have been the row with the four-year-old last Friday morning about what outfit she would wear to creche for dress-up day.
The kids donated a gold coin to pay for the randy resident rabbits to get ``fixed up'' because they were getting too cranky.
The previous day she had settled on a particular Angelina Ballerina outfit, wisely eschewing the one that had busted seams.
But come 7.40am, as we prepared to take the second child and his friend to the before-school chess session, she had changed her mind.
So, in between wiping sleep from eyes and sponging toothpaste marks off tops, I was doing a shoddy job of mending the dress.
At bedtime the night before the eldest child, who had four weeks to research and answer four simple questions and type them up, realised she had left her draft at school.
That meant after chess drop off we had to pick up the notes and head to the cafe so she could type up her homework on the laptop and put it on a memory stick and print it out at school.
But the seeds were sown earlier in the week when Special Friends Day was staged. The two school aged children were happy to have their Dad go along which was a bonus because that meant we, read me, did not have to hit the phones trying to rope ``special'' people in.
The kids dressed up as book characters with an emphasis on animals.
My son was happy to go as knockabout cat Old Tom from the Leigh Hobbs' series. At the weekend I headed to the Op Shop to buy an orange flannelette sheet for the body. The plan was to sew up some loose fitting pants and top but I ran out of time what with other weekend commitments. We cut a hole in the sheet and draped it around him, fashioned some ears and added the requisite scars and bung eye. He carried a plastic fishbone. My daughter was going as a creature from Where the Wild Things Are. I bought orange wool and wrapped it around cardboard to create tassels that were sown into a pantyhose gusset (minus the legs) to make a wig. She had a furry coat to complete the effect. Sure, it was all simple and unsophisticated but it still took hours.
The next day was another prep transition session for the four-year-old at 2.30pm. I was at work but because my husband was starting work at 4pm he took her.
Then on Thursday, the kids galloped from their classroom with more great news.
The Melbourne Cup was going to make a pitstop at our school and they should dress up in jockey colors!
So, at 3am the next morning during a restless night I found myself thinking about jockey colours and how best we could execute this. All very simply, mind you.
In, fact for the next couple of days I mulled over how this could be done simply. But there was some respite because I then turned my attention to a low-key Halloween celebration on the Saturday night. While people decry it as crass American commercialism, we like to think of it as an Irish festival. My son turned his Old Tom outfit into a pumpkin turban, my older daughter pinned a Batman cape to her black t-shirt and donned a witches hat. The pesky youngest suitably put on a vampire outfit because I often feel she is sucking the lifeblood out of me.
I delivered some goodies to the pre-arranged stop off points for ``trick or treat''. Then we headed off and luckily for us a friend of a friend happened to be related to Olympic medallist Steve Hooker. He answered the door and there was much excitement.
But come Sunday it was back to jockey colors.
I reached for the formguide and the decision was quick. The kids would go as Allez Wonder's jockey. It meant I had to draw a yellow shamrock, cut it out, back it with some cardboard and pin it to their red school tops.
The morning, despite the fact that more than half the school was AWOL on a long weekend, was fantastic.
When my children related the week's activities to their interstate grandmother she was horrified.
``I can't believe all these things, it is just too much,'' she said.
The children had omitted to tell her about their dad doing fruit duty at kinder, a working bee for creche and the myriad of other excursion and incursion forms, raffle selling rosters and the like that all had to be dealt with in that same week.
I know daughters-in-law aren't supposed to agree with their mothers-in-law, but I do on this one.
I don't know what the answer is. Having less children. Ignore all the dress up days and then your kids feel sad and left out. Attend community run creches/kinders but refuse to help out.
Discourage schools from all these extras so they can focus on the basics.
In the meantime, we're bracing for a another few big weeks. The four-year-old gets her Buddy for next year, her older sister becomes a Buddy and then there's Christmas choir practice, excursions to Healesville and Werribee zoos ...
Thankfully, the only one dressing up this week is me - on Oaks Day.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
New York, New York
Edited version of Cheapskates Guide to New York.
First in a series of travel Cheapskates Guides.
Sunday Herald Sun, Edition 7 - Escape
SUN 18 OCT 2009, Page 012
Budget New York
Apple essence
Claire Heaney finds you don't have to spend a fortune to enjoy the Big Apple
YOU'VE snared a bargain flight to the US. But that doesn't mean you have money to burn.
And anyone who has visited the Big Apple knows that's exactly what you can do very quickly. But here are some canny suggestions to make your greenbacks go further.
THE American Museum of Natural History, opposite Central Park, provides for admission by donation. It's hard to know how much to give but some New Yorkers suggested $US10 an adult. The foyer, with its huge dinosaur skeleton, features in the first Night At the Museum movie. The subway goes straight to the front door.
Central Park
The park takes up 6per cent of Manhattan so it's wise to build plenty of time into your itinerary. You can spend a whole day there and you might only cover half of it. There are plenty of playgrounds for the littlies, the literary walk, Belvedere Castle, the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir to walk or jog around (prams and strollers are not allowed). Then there's the Imagine memorial to the late Beatle John Lennon.
If you want to spend money there are horse and cart rides, bike hire, remote control yacht hire, the zoo and so on. In summer the pool is free.
www.centralpark.com
Bronx Zoo
THE zoo, an easy subway ride, provides entrance by donation, or pay-what-you-wish, on a Wednesday. It means that you are not shelling out the full admission price ($US27 for adults and $US21 for kids). Because it is mid-week it tends to be a lot quieter. But once you get in, other rides, such as the Lady Bug, have to be paid for.
Like many other attractions that rely on corporate donations it is feeling the pinch. The day after our visit the New York Post ran a story saying that to cut costs they had to ``sack'' some of the animals. The World of Darkness, a nocturnal display my seven-year-old couldn't stop talking about, is among the first to go. Bear that in mind when you are coming up with your donation. www.bronxzoo.com
The subway
WE entered the New York Subway with some trepidation, fearing it might not be safe. But once we negotiated the purchase of tickets (the monosyllabic replies and looks to our inquiries from the station attendant left us thinking we must have been the dumbest tourists ever to set foot in the country) the subway is a bargain. We bought a seven-day Metro card for $US25 each. We did not find the subway very stroller friendly and one occasion we had to help a woman using a walking frame. For the able-bodied it's the best ticket in town.
www.mta.info
Staten Island Ferry
YOU can't beat the free Staten Island Ferry for a no-frills Manhattan cruise with million-dollar views.
On the day we headed down to Battery Park to do our Statue of Liberty trip we arrived so late we decided to opt for the freebie trip, leaving the tour of Liberty and Ellis islands to a day we could get there early enough to beat the crowds.
The free ferry leaves on the half hour and provides a lovely introduction to the grand old lady. Once at Staten Island you must get off and return on a later ferry. You can spend time checking out the few attractions or if it is a nice day have a picnic.
Statue of Liberty
ENTRY to the Statue of Liberty and nearby Ellis Island, which was a migration checkpoint, is free.
You have to buy a ferry ticket which costs $US12.
Given that you can spend hours exploring Liberty and Ellis islands it's a bargain.
City Pass
CITY Passes, which package up attractions in more than 10 major US cities, are a great buy. The New York offering has all the sights you want to see and when you have a City Pass voucher you are treated as an A-lister, jumping many of the queues. The booklets generally provide a 40 per cent reduction on individual entry prices. They can be bought online or at attractions.
www.citypass.com
Take a walk
SLIP on your comfy shoes. Walking around New York is one of the best ways to take it all in. Yes, the subway is great to get from A to B but there is so much to see in between. The day we headed down from Times Square to Battery Park to see the Statue of Liberty we got off at a station we thought was the best option. When I asked a local if I was going the right way she said I really needed to get on another train because it was too far. But the walk was short and we saw so many things. For instance, the Woolworths tower which at one time in the 1920s was the tallest building in Manhattan. It is suggested that Frank Woolworth built the tower because he wanted to outdo a rival bank tower because the manager had refused him a loan. A visit to Ground Zero, now a construction site, is illuminating for first-time visitors to New York. Along Broadway there is a Trinity Church where first President George Washington worshipped, along a side street is financial district Wall Street and across the road at Federal Hall where Washington was sworn in as president. Further along at Battery Park there are monuments but one of the most poignant is the misshapen world sculpture that once stood in front of the World Trade Centre. It has an eternal flame burning next to it.
Terrific toy shops
TOYS R Us, in Times Square, has its very own ferris wheel. That costs $US4 to have a ride but there are plenty of other free things to do. There is a terrific Jurassic Park dinosaur, a huge Barbie display and massive Lego displays such as King Kong climbing the Empire State Building.
At FAO Schwarz, at the corner of 49th St and 5th Ave, there is a Barbie corner in which you can design your own Barbie on a computer screen, the famous huge keyboard you can run along, larger-than-life Lego Harry Potter statues, a fantastic little bookroom offering storytime activities and a craft area offering hands-on fun.
Brooklyn Bridge
TAKE a free stroll along the Brooklyn Bridge. Leave the subway at the City Hall station, metres from the entrance. Once across the bridge, having taken in its great views and ambience, there are a few lovely parks near the Fulton Ferry Landing in which to picnic.
Broadway shows
YOU'RE in Broadway so you want to see a show. Right? But, depending on our exchange rate, theatre tickets can be a killer. It is worth checking out the TKTS Ticket Booths around Times Square. Tickets for Broadway and Off Broadway are up to 50 per cent off the going rate. But, before you get your hopes up, it is near-impossible to snare cheapies to the hit productions because they don't get discounted. You can buy tickets from about 3pm but the queue starts forming much earlier.
www.tdf.org/TKTS
Feed yourself
Self-catering, where possible, is the best way to keep your costs down in the Big Apple. Sure, you only live once, but eating out can see you paying off the holiday for a long time ahead. There are plenty of great supermarkets offering quality food and we noted that shopping at a supermarket in the Bronx for a Bronx Zoo picnic was heaps cheaper than Downtown.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Caption: LIGHT UP: Brooklyn Bridge and Manhattan.
Broadway theatre.
Illus: Photo
IllusBy: Peter Morgan, Reuters; and traffic on Broadway, Tina Fineberg, AP
Column: Escape
Section: ESCAPE
First in a series of travel Cheapskates Guides.
Sunday Herald Sun, Edition 7 - Escape
SUN 18 OCT 2009, Page 012
Budget New York
Apple essence
Claire Heaney finds you don't have to spend a fortune to enjoy the Big Apple
YOU'VE snared a bargain flight to the US. But that doesn't mean you have money to burn.
And anyone who has visited the Big Apple knows that's exactly what you can do very quickly. But here are some canny suggestions to make your greenbacks go further.
THE American Museum of Natural History, opposite Central Park, provides for admission by donation. It's hard to know how much to give but some New Yorkers suggested $US10 an adult. The foyer, with its huge dinosaur skeleton, features in the first Night At the Museum movie. The subway goes straight to the front door.
Central Park
The park takes up 6per cent of Manhattan so it's wise to build plenty of time into your itinerary. You can spend a whole day there and you might only cover half of it. There are plenty of playgrounds for the littlies, the literary walk, Belvedere Castle, the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir to walk or jog around (prams and strollers are not allowed). Then there's the Imagine memorial to the late Beatle John Lennon.
If you want to spend money there are horse and cart rides, bike hire, remote control yacht hire, the zoo and so on. In summer the pool is free.
www.centralpark.com
Bronx Zoo
THE zoo, an easy subway ride, provides entrance by donation, or pay-what-you-wish, on a Wednesday. It means that you are not shelling out the full admission price ($US27 for adults and $US21 for kids). Because it is mid-week it tends to be a lot quieter. But once you get in, other rides, such as the Lady Bug, have to be paid for.
Like many other attractions that rely on corporate donations it is feeling the pinch. The day after our visit the New York Post ran a story saying that to cut costs they had to ``sack'' some of the animals. The World of Darkness, a nocturnal display my seven-year-old couldn't stop talking about, is among the first to go. Bear that in mind when you are coming up with your donation. www.bronxzoo.com
The subway
WE entered the New York Subway with some trepidation, fearing it might not be safe. But once we negotiated the purchase of tickets (the monosyllabic replies and looks to our inquiries from the station attendant left us thinking we must have been the dumbest tourists ever to set foot in the country) the subway is a bargain. We bought a seven-day Metro card for $US25 each. We did not find the subway very stroller friendly and one occasion we had to help a woman using a walking frame. For the able-bodied it's the best ticket in town.
www.mta.info
Staten Island Ferry
YOU can't beat the free Staten Island Ferry for a no-frills Manhattan cruise with million-dollar views.
On the day we headed down to Battery Park to do our Statue of Liberty trip we arrived so late we decided to opt for the freebie trip, leaving the tour of Liberty and Ellis islands to a day we could get there early enough to beat the crowds.
The free ferry leaves on the half hour and provides a lovely introduction to the grand old lady. Once at Staten Island you must get off and return on a later ferry. You can spend time checking out the few attractions or if it is a nice day have a picnic.
Statue of Liberty
ENTRY to the Statue of Liberty and nearby Ellis Island, which was a migration checkpoint, is free.
You have to buy a ferry ticket which costs $US12.
Given that you can spend hours exploring Liberty and Ellis islands it's a bargain.
City Pass
CITY Passes, which package up attractions in more than 10 major US cities, are a great buy. The New York offering has all the sights you want to see and when you have a City Pass voucher you are treated as an A-lister, jumping many of the queues. The booklets generally provide a 40 per cent reduction on individual entry prices. They can be bought online or at attractions.
www.citypass.com
Take a walk
SLIP on your comfy shoes. Walking around New York is one of the best ways to take it all in. Yes, the subway is great to get from A to B but there is so much to see in between. The day we headed down from Times Square to Battery Park to see the Statue of Liberty we got off at a station we thought was the best option. When I asked a local if I was going the right way she said I really needed to get on another train because it was too far. But the walk was short and we saw so many things. For instance, the Woolworths tower which at one time in the 1920s was the tallest building in Manhattan. It is suggested that Frank Woolworth built the tower because he wanted to outdo a rival bank tower because the manager had refused him a loan. A visit to Ground Zero, now a construction site, is illuminating for first-time visitors to New York. Along Broadway there is a Trinity Church where first President George Washington worshipped, along a side street is financial district Wall Street and across the road at Federal Hall where Washington was sworn in as president. Further along at Battery Park there are monuments but one of the most poignant is the misshapen world sculpture that once stood in front of the World Trade Centre. It has an eternal flame burning next to it.
Terrific toy shops
TOYS R Us, in Times Square, has its very own ferris wheel. That costs $US4 to have a ride but there are plenty of other free things to do. There is a terrific Jurassic Park dinosaur, a huge Barbie display and massive Lego displays such as King Kong climbing the Empire State Building.
At FAO Schwarz, at the corner of 49th St and 5th Ave, there is a Barbie corner in which you can design your own Barbie on a computer screen, the famous huge keyboard you can run along, larger-than-life Lego Harry Potter statues, a fantastic little bookroom offering storytime activities and a craft area offering hands-on fun.
Brooklyn Bridge
TAKE a free stroll along the Brooklyn Bridge. Leave the subway at the City Hall station, metres from the entrance. Once across the bridge, having taken in its great views and ambience, there are a few lovely parks near the Fulton Ferry Landing in which to picnic.
Broadway shows
YOU'RE in Broadway so you want to see a show. Right? But, depending on our exchange rate, theatre tickets can be a killer. It is worth checking out the TKTS Ticket Booths around Times Square. Tickets for Broadway and Off Broadway are up to 50 per cent off the going rate. But, before you get your hopes up, it is near-impossible to snare cheapies to the hit productions because they don't get discounted. You can buy tickets from about 3pm but the queue starts forming much earlier.
www.tdf.org/TKTS
Feed yourself
Self-catering, where possible, is the best way to keep your costs down in the Big Apple. Sure, you only live once, but eating out can see you paying off the holiday for a long time ahead. There are plenty of great supermarkets offering quality food and we noted that shopping at a supermarket in the Bronx for a Bronx Zoo picnic was heaps cheaper than Downtown.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Caption: LIGHT UP: Brooklyn Bridge and Manhattan.
Broadway theatre.
Illus: Photo
IllusBy: Peter Morgan, Reuters; and traffic on Broadway, Tina Fineberg, AP
Column: Escape
Section: ESCAPE
Thursday, October 8, 2009
The sleepover ... as it appeared in the Herald Sun
Teens must face up to pillow talk
THE other night at tennis, as we watched the kids hit the ball from end to end, we thrashed out some big questions.
Just how much should government schools levy for voluntary fees?
And was the new healthy school lunch sending the wrong message by selling
bottled water when the kids should be drinking tap water?
Then Tom's mum changed tack. She had taken a phone call from her sister, who was both perplexed and amused.
The previous weekend Tom's cousin, 19, had emerged from his room. It was late because, as any mum of a teenager will tell you, they do love to sleep in.
He made breakfast, went back into his room and then re-emerged.
His mum was about to put some clothes away in his room.
He intercepted her, insisting he would put them away. That was when she knew
something was up.
Then he 'fessed up. There was a girl in his bedroom and she was too embarrassed to leave while his parents were there.
Could they just nick out for a little while so she could escape? They complied and she beat a hasty retreat. They weren't sure what to make of the episode and last I heard they were nutting outa policy.
All of us, with children hurtling towards puberty, laughed nervously.
What would we do once the sleepovers turned from same-sex Hannah Montana dance fests and Harry Potter movie marathons to feature the opposite sex? There were so many moral and practical issues.
One of us said there was no way she would allow it. Another hoped her children would be in share houses by then and what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.
Another theory was that if they were in an established relationship then the partner was welcome. No one-night stands allowed.
Yet another mate took the view that she was happy for somebody, anybody, to be enjoying sex under her roof.
That night there were only mums doing the tennis run, but it would have been interesting to hear the views of fathers.
Would anyone have been good enough for their girls? And if it was a son, would they be pleased he was sowing his wild oats?
So when I ran into a bloke I know, I asked him what the policy was at his house.
"They are going to get up to hanky-panky so I would prefer they did it at home rather than in some park," he suggested.
With four successful children in their late 20s and early 30s, another friend related the story of walking to the tram stop one morning with her 19-year-old's boyfriend.
"A few years earlier, if anyone had told me I'd be walking to the tram stop with my daughter's boyfriend, after he had stayed the night, I would not have believed them," she said.
"But I figured she had got through high school and was settled into uni so it wasn't the worst thing that could happen to her."
It's probably preferable that they are tucked up in bed rather than having their heads kicked in at a fast-food outlet or out of their treeon drugs.
I've decided when and if my kids ask for grown-up sleepovers, I'll tell them to ask their father.
THE other night at tennis, as we watched the kids hit the ball from end to end, we thrashed out some big questions.
Just how much should government schools levy for voluntary fees?
And was the new healthy school lunch sending the wrong message by selling
bottled water when the kids should be drinking tap water?
Then Tom's mum changed tack. She had taken a phone call from her sister, who was both perplexed and amused.
The previous weekend Tom's cousin, 19, had emerged from his room. It was late because, as any mum of a teenager will tell you, they do love to sleep in.
He made breakfast, went back into his room and then re-emerged.
His mum was about to put some clothes away in his room.
He intercepted her, insisting he would put them away. That was when she knew
something was up.
Then he 'fessed up. There was a girl in his bedroom and she was too embarrassed to leave while his parents were there.
Could they just nick out for a little while so she could escape? They complied and she beat a hasty retreat. They weren't sure what to make of the episode and last I heard they were nutting outa policy.
All of us, with children hurtling towards puberty, laughed nervously.
What would we do once the sleepovers turned from same-sex Hannah Montana dance fests and Harry Potter movie marathons to feature the opposite sex? There were so many moral and practical issues.
One of us said there was no way she would allow it. Another hoped her children would be in share houses by then and what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.
Another theory was that if they were in an established relationship then the partner was welcome. No one-night stands allowed.
Yet another mate took the view that she was happy for somebody, anybody, to be enjoying sex under her roof.
That night there were only mums doing the tennis run, but it would have been interesting to hear the views of fathers.
Would anyone have been good enough for their girls? And if it was a son, would they be pleased he was sowing his wild oats?
So when I ran into a bloke I know, I asked him what the policy was at his house.
"They are going to get up to hanky-panky so I would prefer they did it at home rather than in some park," he suggested.
With four successful children in their late 20s and early 30s, another friend related the story of walking to the tram stop one morning with her 19-year-old's boyfriend.
"A few years earlier, if anyone had told me I'd be walking to the tram stop with my daughter's boyfriend, after he had stayed the night, I would not have believed them," she said.
"But I figured she had got through high school and was settled into uni so it wasn't the worst thing that could happen to her."
It's probably preferable that they are tucked up in bed rather than having their heads kicked in at a fast-food outlet or out of their treeon drugs.
I've decided when and if my kids ask for grown-up sleepovers, I'll tell them to ask their father.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Edited version as appeared in the Herald Sun of the earlier post!!! Bloody sub editors!!! oops I'm married to one.
Clare Heaney From: Herald Sun September 15, 2009 9:53PM
I RECKON over the past decade or so I've made plenty of sacrifices in the name of motherhood.
Think sleepless nights, stinky bottoms, goo-stained clothes, career and social life bypasses . . . I could go on, but you get the picture.
And while I have continued to complain bitterly about these incursions on my health, mental state and general wellbeing, I usually like to focus on the bigger picture.
One of these three kids is going to look after me when I'm old.
But, this week, after much soul-searching, I made the supreme sacrifice.
I bought my son a Geelong football jumper.
I'm sure I spent less time choosing names for my kids and picking their school than I have over the past few days considering whether I should "let" Patrick barrack for the Cats, much less actively encourage it.
Start of sidebar. Skip to end of sidebar.
End of sidebar. Return to start of sidebar.
You see, our home is a Richmond household, continuing a family tradition. I took it for granted that my kids would follow the Tiges.
My late Mum was Jack Captain Blood Dyer's cousin. Growing up, we often looked at Mum's blue photo album, with its pictures of Dyer serving ice creams at his Tigers Milk Bar in Richmond, his wedding photo from St Ignatius and a shot of him shaping up in a boxing pose.
Among the pages was a dog-eared program for his testimonial, which my Mum attended.
From time to time, Dad would come home with The Truth, so Mum could read Jack's famous column, Dyer'ere. Or that's what he said.
At one time, I was part of a small team that published a fan magazine about Richmond called Roar. Pregnant and with babies in pouches, we sold the magazine outside the 'G.
It was non-profit (to us), but we made a sizeable donation to the Punt Rd renovation.
So, when my middle child finally spat the dummy and said he hated the Tigers because they were duds, I felt really sad.
"But they've got the best theme song," I offered. "They never win, so we never hear it," he countered.
Last year, he trudged off unhappily to the school Footy Day in a Tigers jumper. After the drubbing against the Swans in Round 19, when we actually broke tradition and left at three-quarter time, he insisted he barracked for the Cats, like his Dad.
In another sign, last week he refused to wear his Tigers raincoat.
It was at this point that I concluded forcing your child to barrack for your team, no matter what, isn't a good idea.
I felt like a traitor as I handed over the $60 for the Cats jumper - the cheapest I could find.
"You can get a number on the back of that, it's just $20," the shop assistant suggested.
"Are you kidding?" I said. Cameron Mooney may be his favourite player but I wasn't going to pay a cent more.
He clearly wasn't picking up the note of sadness attached to the reluctant purchase.
And, yes, the size 12 is a tad big. But I figured if I was going to be forced to buy this jumper, Patrick was going to wear it today and the next four Footy Days of his primary school years.
Me? Well, my only consolation is that he doesn't want to barrack for the Pies.
Clare Heaney From: Herald Sun September 15, 2009 9:53PM
I RECKON over the past decade or so I've made plenty of sacrifices in the name of motherhood.
Think sleepless nights, stinky bottoms, goo-stained clothes, career and social life bypasses . . . I could go on, but you get the picture.
And while I have continued to complain bitterly about these incursions on my health, mental state and general wellbeing, I usually like to focus on the bigger picture.
One of these three kids is going to look after me when I'm old.
But, this week, after much soul-searching, I made the supreme sacrifice.
I bought my son a Geelong football jumper.
I'm sure I spent less time choosing names for my kids and picking their school than I have over the past few days considering whether I should "let" Patrick barrack for the Cats, much less actively encourage it.
Start of sidebar. Skip to end of sidebar.
End of sidebar. Return to start of sidebar.
You see, our home is a Richmond household, continuing a family tradition. I took it for granted that my kids would follow the Tiges.
My late Mum was Jack Captain Blood Dyer's cousin. Growing up, we often looked at Mum's blue photo album, with its pictures of Dyer serving ice creams at his Tigers Milk Bar in Richmond, his wedding photo from St Ignatius and a shot of him shaping up in a boxing pose.
Among the pages was a dog-eared program for his testimonial, which my Mum attended.
From time to time, Dad would come home with The Truth, so Mum could read Jack's famous column, Dyer'ere. Or that's what he said.
At one time, I was part of a small team that published a fan magazine about Richmond called Roar. Pregnant and with babies in pouches, we sold the magazine outside the 'G.
It was non-profit (to us), but we made a sizeable donation to the Punt Rd renovation.
So, when my middle child finally spat the dummy and said he hated the Tigers because they were duds, I felt really sad.
"But they've got the best theme song," I offered. "They never win, so we never hear it," he countered.
Last year, he trudged off unhappily to the school Footy Day in a Tigers jumper. After the drubbing against the Swans in Round 19, when we actually broke tradition and left at three-quarter time, he insisted he barracked for the Cats, like his Dad.
In another sign, last week he refused to wear his Tigers raincoat.
It was at this point that I concluded forcing your child to barrack for your team, no matter what, isn't a good idea.
I felt like a traitor as I handed over the $60 for the Cats jumper - the cheapest I could find.
"You can get a number on the back of that, it's just $20," the shop assistant suggested.
"Are you kidding?" I said. Cameron Mooney may be his favourite player but I wasn't going to pay a cent more.
He clearly wasn't picking up the note of sadness attached to the reluctant purchase.
And, yes, the size 12 is a tad big. But I figured if I was going to be forced to buy this jumper, Patrick was going to wear it today and the next four Footy Days of his primary school years.
Me? Well, my only consolation is that he doesn't want to barrack for the Pies.
Monday, September 14, 2009
The Ultimate Sacrifice
I RECKON over the past decade or so I've made plenty of sacrifices in the name of motherhood.
Think sleepless nights, stinky bottoms, goo-stained clothes, career and social life bypasses ... I could go on but you get the picture.
And while I have continued to complain bitterly about these incursions on my health, mental state and general well being, I generally like to look at the bigger picture.
One of these three kids is going to look after me when I'm old. (although the eldest appears to have taken an unhealthy interest in the nearby Sir Eric Pearce Hostel and how old you need to be to get a bed)
But, yesterday I made the supreme sacrifice.
I bought my son a Geelong football jumper.
Have you any idea how hard that was?
You see I regard our home as a Richmond household, continuing a family tradition.
My late mum was Captain Blood Jack Dyer's cousin. Although we lived in Ballarat and I never attended a footy match in Melbourne until I shifted here 20 years ago, the Tigers were part of our family's folklore.
My mum had stayed with an aunt in Richmond when she came to Melbourne to train in Flinders Lane as a tailoress. Growing up we often looked at her blue photo album with its pictures of Dyer serving ice creams at his Tiger Milk Bar in Richmond's Church St, his wedding photo from St Ignatius and a shot of him in boxing pose. Tucked among the pages was a dog-eared program for his testimonial which my Mum attended.
His sister, Irene, often visited us in Ballarat and we knew her as Cookie.
From time to time Dad would come home with The Truth so Mum could read Jack's famous Dyer'ere column. Or, that's what he said.
My dad followed South Melbourne but happily supported his family's Tiger ties. After Tiger Kevin Sheedy turned up at our school, St Columba's, my brother wrote him a letter.
Sheeds replied, wishing the family all the best ``even the old Swan''.
In 1989 when I arrived at the Herald Sun, after two years at the Geelong Advertiser, I kept getting sent to Geelong for assignments.
I remember being sent to Geelong to go from pub to pub to capture the ``colour'' of the 1992 Grand Final. It was a pretty sombre day, with the Cats well beaten by West Coast.
At one time, with my crazy colleague and friend, Cheryl, we were part of a small team that published a fanzine about Richmond called Roar. Pregnant and with babies in pouches we sold the magazine at the front of the ``G''.
It was non-profit (to us) but we made a sizeable donation to the Punt Rd renovation.
So, when my middle child, Patrick, finally spat the dummy and said he hated the Tigers because they were duds, I was disappointed to say the least.
"But they have got the best theme song," I offered.
``They never win enough to hear it,'' he countered.
He did have a point.
This time last year, he trotted off unhappily to the school Footy Day in a Tigers jumper. He kept saying all year, especially after the drubbing against the Swans in Round 19, when we actually broke tradition and left at three quarter time, that he hated the Tigers.
He wanted to barrack for the Cats, like his dad.
Last week he refused to wear his Tigers raincoat, declaring he would sooner get wet.
It was at this point that I decided maybe forcing your child to barrack for your team, no matter what, isn't good parenting.
And he could very well be the one deciding which nursing home I am going into.
So, there I was over the weekend trying to sort out clobber for this week's Footy Day.
The cheapest option, apart from $22 scarves and beanies, was a $60 jumper.
``You can get a number on the back of that ... it's just $20,'' the shop assistant suggested.
"Are you kidding?" I said. He clearly wasn't getting the sentiment.
I figured if I was going to be forced to buy this jumper, Patrick was going to wear it for the next five footy days for the rest of his primary school years.
And, yes, the size 12 is a tad big. But, he didn't seem to care as he paraded it around the house. I caught a glimpse of his father who looked quite self satisfied.
Me, well, I am just glad he doesn't want to barrack for the Pies.
As my colleague, Harry, says: "That's the trouble with you. You're related to Jack Dyer and they all hated Collingwood so much they couldn't even stand watching black and white TV."
Think sleepless nights, stinky bottoms, goo-stained clothes, career and social life bypasses ... I could go on but you get the picture.
And while I have continued to complain bitterly about these incursions on my health, mental state and general well being, I generally like to look at the bigger picture.
One of these three kids is going to look after me when I'm old. (although the eldest appears to have taken an unhealthy interest in the nearby Sir Eric Pearce Hostel and how old you need to be to get a bed)
But, yesterday I made the supreme sacrifice.
I bought my son a Geelong football jumper.
Have you any idea how hard that was?
You see I regard our home as a Richmond household, continuing a family tradition.
My late mum was Captain Blood Jack Dyer's cousin. Although we lived in Ballarat and I never attended a footy match in Melbourne until I shifted here 20 years ago, the Tigers were part of our family's folklore.
My mum had stayed with an aunt in Richmond when she came to Melbourne to train in Flinders Lane as a tailoress. Growing up we often looked at her blue photo album with its pictures of Dyer serving ice creams at his Tiger Milk Bar in Richmond's Church St, his wedding photo from St Ignatius and a shot of him in boxing pose. Tucked among the pages was a dog-eared program for his testimonial which my Mum attended.
His sister, Irene, often visited us in Ballarat and we knew her as Cookie.
From time to time Dad would come home with The Truth so Mum could read Jack's famous Dyer'ere column. Or, that's what he said.
My dad followed South Melbourne but happily supported his family's Tiger ties. After Tiger Kevin Sheedy turned up at our school, St Columba's, my brother wrote him a letter.
Sheeds replied, wishing the family all the best ``even the old Swan''.
In 1989 when I arrived at the Herald Sun, after two years at the Geelong Advertiser, I kept getting sent to Geelong for assignments.
I remember being sent to Geelong to go from pub to pub to capture the ``colour'' of the 1992 Grand Final. It was a pretty sombre day, with the Cats well beaten by West Coast.
At one time, with my crazy colleague and friend, Cheryl, we were part of a small team that published a fanzine about Richmond called Roar. Pregnant and with babies in pouches we sold the magazine at the front of the ``G''.
It was non-profit (to us) but we made a sizeable donation to the Punt Rd renovation.
So, when my middle child, Patrick, finally spat the dummy and said he hated the Tigers because they were duds, I was disappointed to say the least.
"But they have got the best theme song," I offered.
``They never win enough to hear it,'' he countered.
He did have a point.
This time last year, he trotted off unhappily to the school Footy Day in a Tigers jumper. He kept saying all year, especially after the drubbing against the Swans in Round 19, when we actually broke tradition and left at three quarter time, that he hated the Tigers.
He wanted to barrack for the Cats, like his dad.
Last week he refused to wear his Tigers raincoat, declaring he would sooner get wet.
It was at this point that I decided maybe forcing your child to barrack for your team, no matter what, isn't good parenting.
And he could very well be the one deciding which nursing home I am going into.
So, there I was over the weekend trying to sort out clobber for this week's Footy Day.
The cheapest option, apart from $22 scarves and beanies, was a $60 jumper.
``You can get a number on the back of that ... it's just $20,'' the shop assistant suggested.
"Are you kidding?" I said. He clearly wasn't getting the sentiment.
I figured if I was going to be forced to buy this jumper, Patrick was going to wear it for the next five footy days for the rest of his primary school years.
And, yes, the size 12 is a tad big. But, he didn't seem to care as he paraded it around the house. I caught a glimpse of his father who looked quite self satisfied.
Me, well, I am just glad he doesn't want to barrack for the Pies.
As my colleague, Harry, says: "That's the trouble with you. You're related to Jack Dyer and they all hated Collingwood so much they couldn't even stand watching black and white TV."
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