The Unit

A couple of days ago I read a post over on Jen's blog. The topic of that post (and before you read this one, go and read that one) is something which has been turning over and over in my head since I read it. It's especially interesting to me in light of the fact that we are considering, for the first time, putting out kids into separate classes.

Now I probably could have just replied with my thoughts over there...but then I find my thoughts on this are too big for just a comment. So I hope you'll forgive me Jen, as I wax lyrical about this for an entire blog post- I promise I'm not triplet mum bashing.

From the beginning, we've aimed to treat our kids as individual people with individual interests and needs. We did not make a big deal of it - in fact we pretty much just treated them in the same way we would have treated siblings of different ages. At the same time, we tried to instil in our kids the importance of family - and very often when the 3 of them go somewhere, together, DH will remind them, "Don't forget to look out for one another." Where I think I differ from my blogging friend is that I see these things as two separate entities. You can teach you children about the importance of family, about blood being thicker than water, about siblings coming before friends... but you cannot 'teach' your kids to actually be friends. You can teach them to be kind to one another, to respect one another, to look out for one another's best interests...but you cannot force them to like one another. Nor can you force them to always do what the other does. Suppose one gets an invite to a playdate of a friend the other does not particularly care for. Does that mean the first one will miss out because their sibling has no interest in going? How disappointing to miss out on things - or be forced to participate in things - simply because your siblings are doing it, too.

I also think that their relationship is strengthened by the opportunities we give them to be apart. We have a family requirement that each child do a sporting activity, and we prefer it be different for each kid. What we've found is that they share a lot more with one another - "I did the coolest thing at Scouts today!" "I learned a new dance step!" "Will you come and see my gymnastics performance?" - all of these are fairly typical comments in my house. This morning DD2 taught both DD1 and DS a simple tap dance move and they spent the ride to school talking about how they were going to practice it at lunchtime. This wouldn't have been nearly as fun - nor as good a lesson in sharing - if they always did the same thing.

Similarly, I have noticed that my kids LOVE to spend time as individuals with their friends - it's a treat for them. They share so much of their daily lives, that sometimes interacting with same-age kids who are not their relatives is almost like a mini-vacation. They get some space from one another - and it makes them feel special. We don't allow them to come home and boast or gloat about it, but we DO allow them to go to their friends and come home with happy smiles and shared excitement. In many cases their shared friends have loved having them over one at a time because it's a novelty for them as well. "Today I'll have DD1 over and then next week I can have DD2 over," is something which I've heard from their friends quite often. It's not at all about shaming the other kid because they didn't get invited, it's about sharing and learning that life is not always equal and balanced.

There have been times when I have wanted to wrap up all my kids in cotton wool, shut out the rest of the world, and make everything equal and fair for them. I very quickly realised that it was ME who wanted this, not them. Sure, they cried when someone didn't invite them over...but in most cases we managed to turn that around into a learning experience. And, not surprisingly, some time later it was the other child who had an invite while the first child did not. I understand very well the desire to keep our children from hurt - but I also understand that it's an impossible task which you could spend the rest of your life failing at spectacularly.

When it comes to triplets - or just siblings of any age - I think you need to teach them the lessons of love, and kindness, and consideration for other's feelings - if those people are related to them or not. I also see nothing wrong with teaching the importance of family - but part of what families do is revel in each other's successes, and commiserate with their disappointments. How can you do that if these things are always the same? I believe children need to be given the opportunity to be their own shining lights, even if there are two equally bright ones right next to them.

The Retail Me

Since I've become a small business owner, I've discovered that the general public have some very odd shopping habits, and that being a business owner means you attract all sorts of crazy stuff. Chief among these:

- Clients calling at odd hours (after 7pm on a weeknight, on Sunday night, on Saturday at 6am and so on) and wondering why you do not wish to discuss their cake requirements. I do my best not to answer the phone at these odd times but sometimes, it can't be helped (correction: sometimes, I am an idiot.)

- Asking for a discount on their order because they know people/are an event planner/are well connected to the [insert ethnic group] community / just because. My favourites are those who ask for a discount because they promise to bring me lots of future work and so it's somehow worth it to me to discount for them. Yeah. NO. All you will bring me is stacks of people who now know I discount at the drop of a hat. No thanks.

- Asking questions about things which can clearly be answered just from the front page of the website, OR calling and saying, "Um, is this a cake shop?" Hmmm. If it isn't, we're BOTH in trouble, buddy!

- Various organisations want me to advertise with them, but they are too stupid to research what kind of company I actually own. In recent months I've had a gym (yes, of course my cupcakes are calorie-friendly), a winery/rugby match (WTF?), several police and military organisations and some animal welfare organisations as for me to advertise with them. If I cannot draw a direct correlation between your readers/clients/rugby players and my business, then that's a big fat NO. And then when you ASK me why I say no, and I say, "Sorry, you're really not in my target market, but thanks anyway," you really should not ask me what my target market is. Trust me, you're not it.

- The guys who want to sell you ad space on Google, but start the conversation with, "So. Do you have a website?" (I could not make this shit up if I tried. This has happened more than once. If I didn't have a website, why the hell are you calling me?!)

- The clients who need to feed 200 people and have a budget of $100, or other ridiculously small budgets for which they want the moon. Last I checked there is not much in life which is worth 50c, except possibly a Chupa Chup. Word of advice - if you cannot afford to actually feed 200 people, don't invite them, make it a pot luck, or replace the cupcake fad with the chupa chup fad - just don't call me.

- I am very transparent about my pricing, and there is a lot of detailed information on the website. So a word to the wise...when I give you a quote on something (1 metre high, 3 D, and with spinning and flashing lights), the correct reaction is not, "You want HOW MUCH? For CAKE?? How hard can it be to make CAKE?" because, dear caller, the fact is, if it were that bloody easy, you would be doing it yourself.

Really, it's astounding the phone conversations I have with people - and while I do my utmost to be polite and fair and give people the benefit of the doubt, sometimes its very hard not to just lose it at them altogether. To be fair, a vast majority of callers are lovely, friendly people who want genuine quotes or truly want to help me or are being paid by the hour to sucker people into advertising in the Policewomen's Gazette. For the most part, I'm pretty lucky in that I've managed to steer clear of too many -zillas (bride, mother, or child)...but not-so-secretly, I'm glad of the total nut jobs because it makes good fodder for both dinner parties and blog posts.

Updates All Around

The boy: Is happy, and smiley, and excited about new school options even though no choice has been made yet. He's also 2 weeks into his own 3 week challenge - the challenge was to make it through 3 weeks of good behaviour (without any phone calls from school). His dearest wish in life is to go to Harry Potter World - and thanks to my brother marrying a Floridian, we're going there in February. So, because he wants his own wand from Ollivander's - we put $50 in an envelope and put the 3 week chart on the outside of it. If he makes it, he keeps the contents of the envelope to spend how he wishes (and I don't need to tell you, it's a HUGE amount of money to him. And me. We're skint.) Anyway, there's even a 10% bonus if he does not need to use any of his "get out of jail free" cards (of which there are two.) I am loving every single second of my sunny, funny boy.

The DH: Is waiting on the results of two interviews, and heard this week that at least one of those was checking references. We live in hope, and in the meantime, he continues to be the most supportive husband that ever lived. He still annoys the crap outta me sometimes (just don't mention housework, or paperwork...) ...but then I can be a pretty demanding wench, so it's a miracle he's stuck around as long as he has.

The School Debate: We're waiting to hear about some financial stuff. In other words, we begged and now we're hoping they have mercy.

The Shop: Things seem to be moving in a forward-esque direction....but the owner has not yet figured out that the whole premise of negotiation is that BOTH parties give a little.

The Bike: Still in action.

The Gay/Not Gay Client: O. M. G. What a drama! I delivered the tower (or tried to anyway) only to be met with about 20 minutes of verbal abuse from the owner of the taverna where the function was meant to be held. Apparently the client organised a cake table but the owner claimed she did not and proceeded to rip shreds off me. I survived the deluge of swearing and the client apologised profusely to me for having to endure that. The good news? I apparently did not fully hang up the phone at the taverna and so she heard him yelling insults directly at her (the client). The bad news? Apparently their function was a disaster and my cupcake delivery gone awry was only the tip of the iceberg...but (!) he loved the feathers, darling! Loved them! Divine!

Life: I am hanging in there, and at the moment that's all I can really ask for.

Secret update which we are not going to talk about any further: Doctor says, 15 months = -44kilos (or just shy of 100lbs). (Insert secretly proud smile.)

Big Order

The first week in November I got a big order from a corporate client. Far and away the biggest order I've ever gotten - and here's hoping it leads to more work from them and similar clients.

As you might imagine, I've been pretty happy about that order for a number of reasons. So when I first got it, I was telling DH about it over dinner with the kids listening in intently. Being my biggest cheerleaders, they were all excited about it and wanted to know details. How many cookies? How many cupcakes? How much money are you getting?

When I told them the dollar amount of the order, there was a lot of excitement around the dinner table. It was an amount that for them seemed totally other-worldly (and frankly, it kinda shocked me, too.) So their reaction was not entirely surprising, along the lines of:

We're rich!
Oh my god, Mummy, that's close to like a billion dollars!
Does this mean we can start having take-away again?
Yippee! We can call the cleaning lady to come again!
That's SO MUCH money Mum - you're like a billionaire, like that song!
So can we go out to dinner to celebrate?
This is HUGE, right? HUGE?!
When are you going to get paid?

To them the order itself and the money seem enormous - but more importantly, they are ignorant of the fact that I don't really get to KEEP all that money. Most of that money won't ever see my wallet. Most of it will go to ingredients, kitchen rental, wages, and and and ... very little of it will come back to me. For now, though, I haven't chosen to burst their bubble, because there is a little part of me that wishes I too could indulge in the fantasy. I sometimes wish I was ignorant of the reality of a small business, too - but then if I were, I probably would not be where I am right now, which is still actually IN business.

Their excitement is fabulous though - because it's not just about the money, it's about them saying they're proud of me in the best way they know how, AND it's catching. So I caved, and agreed that we did really need to go out to dinner to celebrate "Mummy's huge order and being a millionaire" ...and I even had to promise it would be somewhere nice, with tablecloths and everything.

Sheesh. Tablecloths? What am I, a millionaire?

Things You Probably Already Knew

1. Not enough the dance lessons are costing me $360 per term (and this does not include the shoes, leotard, make-up and so on), but then if I want to actually see my little ballerina perform what she's learned, that's another hundred bucks. Seriously?! I want my kid to be marginally more coordinated than I am (not hard, I can fall over while standing still.) But for this privilege, you pay, and pay, and pay. I'm thinking it would be cheaper to stand her on a bar and shoot bullets at her feet. (...and possibly more entertaining, since I don't have to sit and suffer through OPK dancing as well.) (OPK = Other People's Kids)

2. Sometimes I read blogs which are all about being kind and grateful and living authentically and seeing the beauty in the everyday, and I think: just fuck off with that grateful crap.

3. I don't find it at all odd that of the 60+ blogs listed in my Google Reader, approximately 49% of those are about gaining weight (pastry, cake, dessert oriented ones) and the other 49% are about losing weight. 2% are about stupid stuff like photo bombs. A girl has to be well rounded you know! (Pun gleefully intended.)

4. I don't think Glee is appropriate for kids under the age of about 14. Call me prude, but the things in that show are not what I want my kids exposed to before they really need to be. Your kid likes singing and dancing? It's called High School Musical, and it's probably playing on the Disney Channel in some country somewhere right now. If not, it's called a DVD player. Glee is not for kids. Sometimes it's okay if grown ups are having fun without their dependants.

5. I am currently reading a novel which is set in present-day Melbourne. Among other things the main characters (all suburban parents) seem to indulge in rather a lot of extra-marital affairs, cocaine, marijuana and other stuff which is not-so-suburban (or maybe it is). According to The Neighbour's Wife, this stuff is all around me all the time - I'm just in the wrong 'group' to be exposed to it at all. I also recently read an article which said that 30-something mothers are the current highest consumers recreational drugs. I'm not sure if I feel that I've missed out on the party, or damn grateful I'm a big ol' nerd. I'm leaning towards thinking being a nerd is the new black.

Bike Riding 102

I'd love to be able to tell you we had some sort of miracle method for teaching DS to ride, but we didn't. Pretty much I went out there with no idea of how to go about this, but plenty of enthusiasm and a good pair of running shoes. I can say that in the space of two lessons, he was confident enough to push off and ride a long(ish) distance with no help, and was improving at the whole steering/staying on/not crashing thing. In the course of our second day out together, we actually developed our own method -now forever known as the"emzee Family Goolies Method."

As a side note - I adore Australian slang. So many of the words just roll off the tongue beautifully and sound exactly as the item looks. Case in point, goolies. Goolies are in fact also known as the dangly bits between a man's legs. Doesn't the word goolies (goo-lees) just sound poetically like the items themselves?

Anyway. So DH was trying to get DS to gain some confidence in pushing off on his own. So he would stand about 5 feet in front of the bike, and get DS to push off and then DH would "catch" him. Given the height of the bike's front wheel versus the height of DH's inseam, the top of the wheel (when properly wedged between his legs) would indeed "get him in the goolies." So, me being me, I used this as a comedic motivator. DH was a short way away, and I leaned in and whispered to DS, "Go on, go get your Dad in the goolies!"

He didn't need to be told twice. He laughed like a maniac and then pushed off with a fair amount of force. After a couple of these starts, DH had to stand further and further away from us (or really risk copping it). Eventually, trying to "get Dad in the goolies!" was the goal for the day - with DH standing further and further away (suitably engaging in foolish hip wiggling and carrying on for motivational purposes, of course), DS was determined to get there. It actually worked really well - because it made my son smile, it gave him a goal to work towards, and it reminded him to keep his eyes on the road ahead and NOT at his feet on the pedals. Several times poor DH had to jump out of the way, as Mr Kamikaze Goolie Getter was hell-bent on his mission.

So - there you have it, the emzee Family Goolies Method for bike riding lessons. All it requires is a boy on a bike, and a willing set of goolies.

Bike Riding 101

"The downside is that I pretty much only have half a penis left."

...so says DS to his beloved Uncle after we went out for his first ever 'learn to ride a 2-wheeler' lesson. Beloved Uncle brought home the amazing machine to DS on a Sunday night. It was exactly the right size, in exactly the right colours (he wanted a red, silver and black bike). DS was nearly chomping at the bit to get riding, so on the Monday I made it home several hours early in order to make good on my promise of lessons. The official promise was that he would be able to ride a 2 wheeler by the end of the summer (although technically summer starts in Australia on Dec 1.)

It was a very bittersweet moment for me, since I had always assumed my Dad would be the one teaching my kids how to ride. The day was filled with loads of "Dad and Me" memories, as I remembered the (traumatic and yet triumphant) day when he taught me to ride a bike. I even remember going with him to buy it - it was a sparkly blue 'big kid' bike we bought at Sears for $99. We brought it home and had to assemble the entire thing - literally it was just a big box full of parts and wheels. So Dad and I put it together and the next day went to Balboa Park, and like most kids, there was a whole lot of "don't let go! don't let go!" and a lot of crying when I inevitably fell on my ass (and my arm, and head, and shoulder, and elbow, and knee.) I got there in the end, of course - as he knew I would.

So it was with some excitement and a hint of sadness that I took DS out for his first lesson. I even used some of the same little tips my Dad had given me, and probably used some of the same phrases to motivate him...and the experience was, in a word, fabulous. DS and I just had a brilliant time out there. To be sure, he got fell over and hurt. A lot. And he cried, and he had a lot of snot running out of his nose, and he and his bike (and me) got pretty muddy. But I wouldn't trade that hour for anything else in the world - because this boy who has only recently returned to me, this boy SHINED.

If I had attempted this a month ago, I am pretty sure I'd have had an angry, frustrated, MAD and extremely uncooperative person on my hands who kicked the bike across the park. Instead, I had someone who was frustrated, and in pain, and tired, and feeling pretty negative and low, who then said, "Come on, Mum, I think I can give it another go." My boy could hardly see from his tears and yet there he was, on that bike and pushing off yet again even though physically and emotionally, he was spent.

When he crashed full pelt into a timber fence, I decided to have mercy on him and head home. On the (slow, painful) walk home, he said, "I don't know, Mum, it's really much harder than it seems. I don't think you'll get me on that thing again." Wisely, I kept my mouth shut.

The following day (a public holiday so all of us were home), it was a gorgeous sunny Melbourne day so as a family we decided to head out to the park. Surprisingly, Boy and his bike were out the door and ready to go LONG before any of us were even dressed yet. He actually persisted at the bike riding attempts for THREE HOURS (and endless crashes) and by the end of it, damn if that kid was not totally able to ride clear across a very large open field, all on his own.

"Boy," I said, "Are you proud of yourself? You DID IT! You rode it all by yourself with NO HELP!" He was crying, and hurting, and really looking for all the world like he'd been through a war, but he conceded, "Slightly. I'm slightly proud of myself." I just smiled about it and continued to whoop whoop about it all in a suitably embarrassing motherly fashion (he would expect no less, and hell if I was going to let this moment slide.) I don't think he knows that a bit later on, through all the sniffling, I heard him mumble to himself quietly, "I DID IT, I rode a bike all by myself."

There are a few more lessons to go - steering in a straight line, for one, and pushing off without leaning on Mum for support, and certainly a lesson or two in stopping without trying to jump off a moving bike - but for the meantime, my son can ride a two-wheeler all on his own for a fairly considerable distance. For my part, I managed to run along side him for as long as he needed me to, holding on, just like my Dad did for me all those years ago. It was a very proud (a bit more than slightly proud) moment for both of us. We did it, and we did it together. I just wish my Dad was here to see it...but secretly, I believe he is watching from somewhere.

Hair Today

It's 6 days into NaBloPoMo and the discussions around here have been pretty heavy....sheesh! What happened to the easy, breezy, light and lovely emzee we all know and love?

Well, she's still here. Which is why today we're going to talk about hair....which quite possibly will end up in lively debate and much flaming, but I'm willing to risk it.

Hands up everyone who is not happy with their hair? *waves hand in air*. A little over a year ago my hair started to disappear. I know the reason for it (stress), but I always expected it would grow back. So far, it hasn't. When I look closely in the mirror, I can clearly see my scalp back at least 3-4 inches from my hairline (it's not that it's bald, it's that I can see it clearly through my hair. ) I am NOT happy about this situation at all.

In recent months I got this totally cute short and sassy haircut and colour which I adore...but the hair itself? It makes me want to cry. Especially because now, if I don't wear it messy or curly, and if I haven't washed it every single day, the balding situation becomes even more obvious. This is one of those rare times when I am happy being tall - very few people can actually SEE the top of my head, let alone pass judgement on it. So at least I can - kinda - keep the situation hidden up there in the clouds. Between the hair and the Little Head Syndrome discussed earlier, let me just say that my cranium is no longer my favourite body part.

Why do we care so much about hair, anyway? Is it because it's one of the first things people see? Is it because it keeps us warm? Is it because we've invested time and money in it?

So, hands up all those whose hair is an issue for them (colour, cut, whatever) (and please god let me not be alone in this). And, hands up all those who have some sort of miracle solution for my current hair woes. Anybody? (Ahem. Well. Then. Excuse me while I go grab a hat. Or ten.)

Thicker Skin

I don't have a thick skin. I take everything to heart and I react emotionally to things which probably don't need much emotion in them. It's taken me this long to blog about this incident because it still weighs heavily on my heart, and stupidly some itty bitty piece of my heart lacks confidence. I'm sharing it because I think there is a lesson in it.

A few weeks ago now, a client ordered a cake for her son. This son has extreme dairy, egg, soy, nut, and wheat allergies. I explained that I can meet some of those dietary needs but not all of them (very hard to do a good gluten free cake with no eggs, IMHO.) She told me she had rung 5 other bakeries, all which flat out refused to help her. I explained that I might be able to help her if SHE provided the cake receipe and we just decorated it. After MANY conversations, she asked if I would be willing to bake up a box cake mix (which her son could eat) and then decorate it for her. She wanted a pretty simple design, and so I agreed to do it. She was gushing loads of gratefulness over the phone.

Note, only a crazy person would agree to taking in an unknown cake mix, baking it up (and thus slowing down our normal production), and hope it would bake up okay for decorating purposes. The risk factor at every level of this job was pretty high. But I am a bleeding heart and I really felt for this woman and her son - he can't eat much of anything at all. I also under-charged her - again a symptom of my bleeding heart nature. Anyway we did it (and it was a pain in the butt but came out very cute) - and her husband came to pick it up. I showed it to him and said, "Isn't it cute?" and he said, "Yes, thanks so much!" and drove away.

Two days later I received an email from the client's Mum. It is by far the most vile, hurtful, and personally insulting email I've ever gotten. I won't put it all here, but suffice it to say she accused me of, among other things - writing my own testimonials, letting a 3 year old decorate the cake (because "clearly it was not the work of a professional"), lying about my qualifications and experience, and ruining her grandson's birthday. She also told me the cake was disgusting, and she could not believe I would actually proudly present that to a client. She goes on to say that she and her daughter took it to 2 local bakeries, both of which refused to 'fix it' for them. They then went to the supermarket, bought icing, and redecorated the entire thing themselves until 3am. Apparently the only silver lining to come from it was that now 2 bakeries were "re-thinking" their offerings in terms of allergy-friendly cakes. I could go on, but I won't because I think you get the idea.

So I wrote back, simply saying I would call her daughter directly to discuss this. I called about 4 times that day, but there was no answer. I then got a second email from the grandmother telling me that her grandson was sick so her daughter was not available to talk, but I could call her to discuss it (meaning I could call the grandmother.) I politely wrote back and said I preferred to speak directly to the client. I called the daughter again and left a friendly voice mail, saying I would like to discuss the email I got from her Mum. (Friendly because I believe in good customer service, and being polite in the first instance, and that means discussing it like adults and not coming out guns blazing. Clearly this grandmother was not of the same belief.)

The client never called me back, and I've not heard anything since then from anyone in that family. I have a sneaking suspicion that the daughter was happy with her cake but that (for whatever reason) her Mum was not so the daughter just caved in to the madness.

It has taken me several weeks to get over this. I am just not thick-skinned, and I took everything about this situation personally. Her email to me was a very personal attack - so it's not really a surprise that I've taken it to heart. Still, it's much easier for me to focus on this ONE horrible email than it is for me to remember the hundreds of happy (repeat) clients I've got, and the many, many, many happy testimonials people have written for me not only personally but in public forums as well.

I'm sorry to report that rather than see this as one crazy lady among hundreds of normal ones and shrug it off, it's made me reconsider my stance on allergen cakes, and on doing people favours in general. It's really taken the shine off what I considered to be a situation in which I was providing exceptional service, and it's made me very wary of helping people out in the future.

There will always be unhappy people in the world, and just by law of averages I'm going to come across a few of them in the course of my business. I've just got to get better at dealing with them when they come into my life. So - I'm aiming to grow a thicker skin. I'm not entirely sure how one does that, but I'm going to try. All suggestions welcome.

Start As You Mean To Go On

DH and I are pretty old-fashioned - something which I think will annoy my kids as they get older, but for the moment they just accept. By "old fashioned" I mean that we only own one TV, nobody owns any hand-held games, we don't have any gaming consoles of any kind, we limit their TV/computer time, only I have a facebook account, and it's only in the last month or so that we've let them have their own email accounts. Plus we have an expectation that they will do daily chores without complaint (but some complaint is normal, they're not Stepford children after all), and almost every night of the week we sit down together to eat dinner. I suppose DH and I just have a very firm belief in what we want our core family values to be, and we our best to stick to those values and behave in a manner fitting to them. We do make exceptions, and we do fail at our own plans sometimes - but as a whole we do what we do because it's important to us. We are by no means the perfect family, nor am I trying to preach to you all. I'm just trying to make the point that we chose the way we would live and parent (and in many ways this was an unconscious choice because DH and I are by nature very similar people). So basically, when it comes to our parenting, we made our bed, and we lie in it.

By all accounts our old fashioned-ness makes us totally weird among our friends. .. although to be fair we were probably already considered weird, it's just that this cements our status. I always hear other parents saying they wish their kids spent more time outdoors, that they wish their kids didn't drag their Nintendo DS's around all the time, that they wish they didn't have to cook two meals (one for kids, one for adults.) In short, modern parents seem to complain about a whole lot of things which they themselves introduced in the first place. You started or encouraged the situation, and now you're upset about it? Really?

One of my friends recently told me how proud she was of her 10 year old DD. This DD collected up all the stuff she did not want anymore (namely, an Ipod, a DS, and some other electronic toys she had been given), listed them all on Ebay and sold them. She made enough money to then buy herself an iTouch. The Mum was very impressed with her child's entrepreneurial spirit...and not half an hour later told me that she finds it very hard to talk to her DD, that they all just seem so BUSY all the time, and that sitting down to eat a meal together is a near impossibility because the kids have so many devices on at once.

My take on this is pretty simple - if you created a situation, you live with the consequences of that situation. This woman's DD didn't just suddenly have a roomful of electronic gadgets to sell which got there by osmosis. Nor did she have access to a computer, an account on Ebay, or the means by which to get to the store to buy an iTouch by magic. The parents in this situation allowed it all to happen, as much as they might care to deny they had anything to do with it. So I'm having a hard time understanding what the complaining is all about. You made the situation, you live with the consequences of it.

When the kids were born, we had this battle axe of a maternal and child health nurse who literally sat me down and said, "You can choose to have a life, or you can choose to have the children run your life. Make your choice, and then START AS YOU MEAN TO GO ON." I cannot tell you how many times her words have come back to me, to serve as guidance when I needed to make a parenting decision. Whenever I've not been sure about something, I tried to look forward and predict the consequences of a decision - and then I started the situation in the way I wanted the situation to continue. I don't always make correct predictions, kids will be kids after all. Sometimes I thought I could predict where something was leading but made the wrong choice anyway. Now I should say she also said that it's possible to turn a situation around (in this case, night time sleeping)...but how much harder is it to go back and fix things, rather than to just start right from the beginning?

So hear this, parents of my generation - either stop your whining, or fix the situation. Your kids are annoying/irritating/lazy/unhelpful/addicted to TV/insert complaint here because it's a situation you allowed (either explicitly or by inertia) to happen. Of course there are situations where some kids needed to be allowed some behaviours or things for extenuating reasons... but, really, the things you complain about are all things you started in some shape or form. SUCK IT UP or do something about it, just don't come crying to me when little Johnny's eyes are rectangular from staring at his iPhone and your electricity bills are through the roof.

More Client Madness

I had a couple come in recently to organise a 30th birthday cupcake tower. They were nice people...but seriously hard work. Firstly, he is as camp as a row of tents (go and Google - Napoleon Perdis. He looked and sounded exactly like that.) Second, his wife doesn't seem to notice this about him although she made reference to his love of feathers and bling and detail-orientedness. Third, she walked in and told me that when they got married, they went to the cake person and florist "like six or more times to get it right." (There are ALARM BELLS ringing in my head at this point.) Fourth, they spent most of the time bickering, like so:

Him: I want lots of feathers and gold and bling bling bling. I want it big, I want it bold, I want it statement.
Her: But that would look terrible.
Him: But it's MY birthday and that's what I want.
Her: Fine, but I think it will look terrible. *pout*
Him: Okay, okay, we'll go with what you think.
Her: No, no, it's YOUR birthday, you should do what YOU want.
Him: Okay, then I want my feathers.
Her: Why do you always do feathers at our functions? Enough with the feathers already!
Him: I *like* feathers and it's my birthday.
Her: *pout* I still think it will look terrible.
Him: Okay then we'll do it your way. No feathers then, okay.
Her: No, no, you do it your way.
Him: Great. Feathers are back in.
Her: *pout* (and look annoyed) But...
Him: But what? You don't think it will look good?
Her: NO. No, I think it will look terrible. This is ridiculous, you have to have more of the gold and less of the feathers.
Him: But I like the feathers.
Her: Fine, have the feathers. But it will look terrible.

Me: Okay, so it's gold papers, chocolate cupcakes and then ganache swirl on top, and then on the top cake we're doing the gold leaf with the white ostrich feathers and the big gold birthday plaque, yes?

Him: Yes.
Her: *pout*
Him: Wait, okay, maybe we should go with the glitter she likes. Sweetheart, do you want me to go with the glitter? I know you like it.

(and so on. All I could think was, "Please, shoot me now. Stick a piping bag in my eye and call it a day.")

...and before any of you say, "Michelle, you should write a book about your crazy clients," let me tell you that I AM writing about it. It's called a blog. :)

Little Head Syndrome

Recently someone posted a photo of me on facebook. This is remarkable for a couple of reasons - one, that I let a photo of me be taken in the first place, and two, that I saw it on facebook even though it was not tagged to me. (Sidenote, it was a pic taken at that conference I went to. And the sad thing is, I'm not linked in that photo probably because they don't know my name. Guess not being tagged is the 2nd silver lining of that day.)

Anyway I noticed three things about that photo. One, that I was having a bad hair day (and my hair is another post for another day.) Two, that I looked pretty cute in that dress I was wearing - which is good because it's new and I like it. Three, that I suddenly appear to have Little Head Syndrome.

There is a saying that women lose weight from the head down, but gain weight from the feet up. So when you pack on a few kilos, it goes straight to your ass and is shown last in your face. When you start eating carrot sticks again, your face begins to look gaunt long before your ass does. Looking at this photo, I am now of the opinion that no truer words were spoken. In the last year and a bit, I've lost a lot of weight (and nope, that's NOT a post for another day.) So looking at this photo, I'm thinking...holy mazoly...my head is now totally too small for my body, and THIS IS BAD. I'm totally suffering from little head syndrome - which, truth be brutally told, is something I have laughed at in other people. There is even a teacher at the kids school who I secretly refer to as "Teacher Little Head" because she too suffers from this problem. It's the total opposite of that Hollywood syndrome of Lollipop Head where your head is giant and your ass is tiny.

The question I have is this - other than lose more weight so I'm more in proportion (and yes, I am heading that way), - what the HECK am I supposed to do about this in the meantime?? I'm pretty sure having a big ego does not ACTUALLY give you a big head so that option is out. I don't have enough hair to be rocking any 'big hair' hair styles. I don't do hats. So - what now? Do I just keep trying to remain behind the camera until I get back into proportion, or do I start to wear large scarves to distract from my head issue?

May this be my biggest problem in life. A serious case of LHS.

The Great School Debate

We are in the process of finding a new school for one or more of my kids, and it's fascinating to me how much the whole private-versus-public debate is one which raises people's hackles.

Open Admission - I went to private school for K-4 and hated it, so then went to public school until 12th grade. DH was private school educated for all of his schooling, and our kids currently attend a private school.

Fact is, the school my kids are at is not currently meeting their academic or social needs - and this is after I've spent a good 18 months trying to advocate for them as much as I can. It's mostly DS who is struggling although his sisters are not doing great, either. I've consulted the teachers, sent my DS to whatever other professionals the school asked me to, and basically tried my best to make it work. No matter how loyal I am to the place (and 18 months of crap is a LOT of loyalty) I can no longer deny that it just is not the right place for at least one of my kids. So we're looking at what the options available to us are.

I actually have no real preference for public versus private, but I do have a preference for a place which can give my son (in particular) enough academic challenges so I am no longer forking out a bunch of dough to a psychologist who tells me he is bored at school. So my first port of call was actually public schools who had a gifted program. Guess what? Very few of them do, and those that have something are generally of the 'out of school' variety where you pay extra and your kid gets taken out of school X days a week. So it's not the school providing it as much as it is the school allowing your child to participate. One of our main concerns is our son's alienation from his peer group..and I'm not sure how that sort of program would address that concern.

I then discovered that several public primary schools have an innovative program which, while not strictly for gifted kids, can be adapted in the classroom for their needs. Of the FOUR schools offering the program near us, we are between 0.5 and 2 kms out of their 'zone' to be considered for entry...which meant that over the phone I got a "no chance in hell" answer when I asked about enrolment. I then called the Department of Education, who basically repeated the above options and told me, "good luck" when it comes to finding a primary school which can help with gifted needs.

So I turned to the private sector - where again, I'm quite surprised to hear that there is not much in the way of extension work, and again it's of the more exclusionary style of days or hours spent outside of class. There seems to be more scope in the private sector, though - but this seems to be because parents have better recourse when their kids' needs are not met (eg "I'm paying X for this education and you are doing enough to help him.") In a public system, I'm not sure exactly how far you would get if you had a grievance (although this would be teacher and school dependant.)

What I've learned is that it's not all that easy to be on one side or another of the bell curve...which in a way I suppose I already knew.

Today I was talking to a friend who said she didn't understand why private school cost so much - why isn't it just more accessible to those who want it? (I should say this was in the context of a religion-based school discussion). I didn't agree with her sentiment (because I think there ARE ways to access religious education in a budget-friendly way) but it was an interesting discussion...mostly because I am lucky enough to find myself with the choice of public versus private. I have the luxury of choice in this situation (well, I might...time will tell.) Fact is, if DS had to go to public school - he would survive, I'm sure of it. After all, plenty of kids do - gifted or otherwise. But isn't it our role as parents to give our kids the very best we can? I'm not saying we should sacrifice our quality of life for private school tuition (although plenty of people do), I'm just wondering if it's our responsibility as parents to give our kids every opportunity we can.

So tell me. Is it a requirement that we give our kids the best opportunities we can? Or is that, too, a luxury, and our kids should just be glad we feed and bathe and house them? What is the extent of our parental responsibility when it comes to this sort of stuff?

DH Suckered Me Into It

'It's almost November," says DH, from his perch on the end of the couch. "That means you'll be blogging a lot, right? Isn't it NaBloPo-something or other?" "Why, yes, it is," says I. "But I'm not sure I'll do it...so much happening right now, I'm not sure how to fit blogging into it all as well."

"Oh," says DH with a bit of a resigned sigh. "Seems a shame to miss it, though."

(...and repeat. I'm pretty sure DH and I had this conversation about 3 times in the last couple of days.)

I once went to a seminar all about active listening, and the message we got was this - if you're having a conversation and it feels as though the other person just keeps repeating the same thing, it's probably because they don't feel as though they have been heard. You need to actively acknowledge what they've said so the conversation can then move forward.

So.

DH - do you see the shiny new NaBloPoMo 2010 logo over there on the right? That's me acknowledging that what you're really saying is, "Hey Wife, I really like reading your blog. You're funny and cute and beautiful, you're tall AND you can cook, and you can write pretty good blog posts which make me laugh and sometimes cry. Please won't you consider participating in NaBloPoMo?"

I heard you, and I am totally in for the November blogging month of madness...let's just hope it doesn't turn into NaBloPoWhatthehelldidIsignmyselfupfor.