Hair Today

I got a haircut last week, and now I am in emotional turmoil. Not because the haircut was bad, but because it was the haircut-before-the-haircut and this means I have only five weeks to come to terms with my hair decision. A decision which includes getting rid of most of my existing hair, and changing it's colour in a somewhat dramatic fashion. Those who are in the know, let me just say that my next haircut and colour will involve a product called fudge. I'm not sure but I think I'm about 20 years too old to be using it, but what the hell, right?

A brief history of me and my hair is as follows: my Mom has a "thing" about hair, and short hair in general. She just doesn't like long hair, and so it took until I was an adult (okay, a teenager) before I was allowed to grow it anywhere past my shoulders or even below my ears. I have some seriously horrendous school photos. Once I got old enough to grow my own hair, I grew it and grew it and grew it until I realised that long hair requires some serious maintenance. And then I cut it, and cut it, and cut it, and then lost enough weight so that a pixie haircut was actually flattering. And then I gained the weight back and the hair came back, too. (Fat people + short hair = mushrooms. Just sayin'.)

I have very odd hair in that it cannot decide if it is curly or straight, mousy or highlighted, oily or dry. It somehow manages to be all of those things at the same time. I also have a love/hate relationship with hair products - love to buy them, hate to use them. The same is true for hair appliances like straighteners and whatnot. Love to say I own them, hate to have to take the time to use them. Anything more than 2 minutes hair prep in the morning is officially too long for me. It took until my late 20's before I realised haircuts need to happen more than once a year in order to actually be effective. (Okay, I lied. More like my early 30's.)

Last year I had to divorce my hairdresser. She had looked after me from the very first minute I landed on Australian shores, but 12 years later she had to go. Our relationship had lost it's shine, it's bounce, it's spin-around-in-slow-motion gloriousness and it was time to move on. It took a year but I finally found someone ... and now I'm about to let her cut all my hair off. It's time. I'm bored with the soccer Mom look, particularly since none of my kids play soccer and I can't justify the haircut. Plus after 10 months of actual effort on my part, I'm mostly thin enough in the face to justify fun, flirty, short hair again. The deed is also going to be done about a week before I see my Mom, so I'd be lying if I said there wasn't a certain amount of brownie points getting to be done. (Not that my Mom would love me any less with longer hair...it's just that she's a Jewish Mother and all Jewish Mothers love being able to tell you that you did exactly what they wanted, and it looks amazing, and if it weren't for them we'd all be up a creek, and why didn't we listen to them earlier?)

So. It's 5 weeks to hair-chop-and-fudge day and I'm vacillating between a) terrified and b) thrilled and c) what-the-hell-am-I-thinking type of thinking? (can you vacillate between 3 things? Or does it have to be only 2?) All of these are odd thoughts, since it's certainly not the first time I've gone to the hairdressers and had a complete and total change. I've had my hair coloured everything from blond to black, had lengths from total pixie to below my bra line. Hair grows back, and that's what's so fun about it. This time, though, I'm putting my trust in someone whose own hair is at several different lengths, colours and shapes all at the same time.

At this point I would normally end with something snappy like, "Don't worry, I'll post pictures." ... but since my faith is wavering, let me just say: Don't worry, I'm not getting my personality cut and coloured. That's already beyond change.

Report Cards

This weeks marks the end of Term Two - here in Australia the school year is broken into 4 terms, or 2 semesters of 2 terms each. At the end of this term we get school report cards as well as parent/teacher interviews.

Suffice it to say I really kinda hate both of those...

A long time ago my sister (herself a veteran primary school teacher) told me that if you read you kid's school report, and you're surprised by anything in it, your teacher isn't doing their job. So each time I get a report, I read it hoping that there are no hidden surprises in there - which thus far there have never been. We've been pretty lucky.

But here's the part which annoys me. My kids go to a private school. A very small private school. There aren't that many kids who go there, less than 100. I know teachers are human, and I know they're busy, and I know they often write school reports in their personal time.... but, really, the cut-and-paste is pissing me off. I know it's hard to come up with 100 original ways to say "X child is enjoying math this year" ... but, people? I read THREE reports. In a row. And when they all say the same thing, verbatim, I begin to think these reports actually have very little value. I have begun to think of reports as the stack of paper the school gives you to prove your kid is learning something, should you wish to sue them on the grounds of them NOT teaching your kid anything. The bits of paper are their bona fides... and that's it.

In one case, DD2 was referred to by DD1's name. So maybe proof reading is not that teacher's strong point...but... this just makes my opinion of school reports even lower than they were in the first place. Even sorrier is that all these teachers believe (probably rightly) that all parents want to hear is the good stuff ... and so even "your child is a narcissistic pain in the ass who will grow up to be a serial killer" can be sugar coated to "your child is extremely confident and will find a rewarding, long term career in people management." *sigh* What are these reports actually worth, other than the value of the paper on which they are written?

And then there are the parent/teacher interviews, where they show you stacks and stacks and stacks of papers done through the year so far. Your role as a parent is to sit in the too-small chair and nod your head politely. Maybe ask a question or two (if you're feeling game) but basically, you sit and listen and pray like hell that they don't tell you anything you don't already know. In our case it's often a matter of "count how many times they refer to one kid by the other kids' name"... its most entertaining!

This year the kids decided that it wasn't fair that teachers get to write reports about kids, but that kids don't get to write reports about teachers. The kids' teacher is a brave (possibly insane) person, so she let them write reports about her... but, being a tit-for-tat classroom, they also had to write reports about themselves. Genius. Pure genius. When I went to the parent/teacher interview, she let me read the reports they wrote about themselves, and it was absolutely fascinating. Kids don't sugar coat, they don't cut-and-paste, they just put it all out there for the world to see. I actually learned a LOT more about how my kids are coping academically from their own reports... rather than the crap their teachers sent home.

So I think it's only fair that kids get to rule the world... because chances are they'll actually tell you a lot more useful information than you'll get out of the grown ups, and as an added bonus: there will be pretty pictures to look at!

Splish Splash

One of the things which commenters on this blog (and other parents I know in real life) llooovveee to harass me about is the whole "bath night" thing. For some reason they all find it offensive and weird and gross and dirty that my kids have specific bath nights. "Don't they get dirty on other days?" "It's disgusting not to shower every day!" and "You seriously only let your kids shower on certain days? Don't they smell?" are pretty common comments - although some have been far more rude than that... I'll just address this by answering WHY we have bath nights (as in more than one.)

Firstly, let me just say that if my kids wanted to shower EVERY night, they would be more than welcome to. It's not like we build a barricade around the showers or charge an entry fee. Secondly, if we all went rolling in mud but it was not a bath night, its not as though I'd say, "Whoah there kiddos! No washing today! It's not bath night! Much better to get in your beds covered in animal shit!" And thirdly, I'm fairly certain that a majority of the free world does not shower every single day, and there are several reasons not to (not great for your hair, skin, or the drought.) So not showing every day does not make ANY of us freaks of nature or society.

Seriously, people. Give me a little bit of credit here.

Imagine, if you will, what life with three babies is like. Three screaming, shitting, crying, eating, spitting, yelling, not sleeping babies. Babies who, while adorable, are very loud and very demanding. Then add a BIG MASSIVE incision right above your hoo-haa, and pack it with gauze and stuff and forget about taking any pain medication. I also want you to attach mechanical nipple-stretchers to your boobs several times a day. Then I want you to imagine you're just falling asleep when WWAAAAHHHH you get woken up by one or more of said babies. Hmmm. Now imagine trying to keep track of all those babies eating, sleeping, shitting, and bathing habits...especially when all those damn babies kinda look alike in the dark and you have no idea if today is Tuesday or not, or when the last time you ate anything was.

Not so easy.

The best advice we ever got from other parents of multiples was to put our kids into a routine from the minute they were born. It was advice that we clung to like Titanic survivors on a life raft as we negotiated our kids' early babyhood - and advice that we still follow even today. Having a routine makes your life and their life much easier to handle - everyone knows what's coming next, there are no battles over routine activities, and in general you end up with a happier and healthier family all around. So that's what we did - we developed a routine, and this routine includes specific Bath Nights. Not because we think you only get dirty on Mondays, but because that way, we KNEW that if we had built in 3 baths a week to the routine, there was no chance of anyone forgetting to do it. We had (and have) bath nights for one reason and one reason only: it saved us our sanity. Literally, DH and I were falling through those days and nights of babyhood - I'm talking thousands of diapers, hundreds of bottles in any given week. So if we knew certain things had to get done on certain days, well, it made everything a lot simpler.

Some of you reading this will wonder why, at 9 years old, we still have the bath night routine built in. Surely they are older and our life is more organised now? Here's why: I have no desire to get into a power struggle with my kids. I feel no need to beg, plead, cajole, demand, or even ASK NICELY 4 times for them to get washed. They just know it needs to get done, and they do it without ever being asked. This is a very far cry from a vast majority of my friends, many of whom need to remind, nag, beg, plead, and bribe their kids to take a shower. In our house, it's just a given.

There are plenty of times when I will ask one or more of them to take extra showers or baths, and generally speaking they don't argue about that either. With bath night, they know and I know what is expected and what's going to happen. We all maintain our standards and then some as needed. Simple. No arguing. I'm not sweating the small stuff, and neither are they. It's why we maintain the routine - so that everyone is always on the same page, and I can spend my life as a Mum enjoying my kids rather than having to feel like the fishwife.

The routine is also the reason why my kids don't watch heaps of TV, have (and complete) chores every single day, love to do non-screen time activities, and take responsibility for their pet, their home, their belongings and their lives in general. I'd gladly take ALL of that in exchange for one less shower a week.

And to those of you who, for whatever reason, still think our way of life is disgusting... tell me, how did you manage it with YOUR triplets?

One, Two, Three, Four...

Five, Six, Seven, Eight...and now you are nine. How, exactly, did all those years pass by so quickly? Supposedly time passes quicker the older you get... and I'm sure that's true since it feels like it was only yesterday I was planning your first birthday party. This year (like in that first year), there were balloons and cakes and tears... only this time the tears are mine as I think about how much my children have grown and how priveleged I am to have been a part of it. Each year your birthday is bittersweet, as I am so thrilled to watch you change and mature, and yet I can't help but wish I could keep you as my babies.

This past year has been one of changes for our family. Changes to our house; as we finally do some cleaning up and sorting out and upgrading... since you're 9 now we thought we could finally get our breakables out of storage, only to discover that they are called 'breakable' for a very good reason. Changes to our little family; as Julian moved into his own room and the girls compete to see who can make the biggest mess in a room at any given time. Changes to our bigger family; as we learn to deal with the sadness which comes with losing your Saba and the discovery that your parents are people, too. It's been a year of adventures - yet again we took you overseas (an expensive habit you all enjoy), and your Dad and I continue to try and give you the very best, full lives we can. He and I were very lucky to ourselves be born to adventurers, and so we make it our goal in life to give you your own set of crazy life experiences. I like to think that someday you will make those same memories with your own kids.

Most years my birthday post is written to you as individuals - but this year I'm going to address you all as a group because I think it's your togetherness, and our family teamwork, which has been a theme throughout this past year of your lives.

You always say, "Yes, Mum, we KNOW!" in a very bored voice when I remind you that nothing in life is more important than living by the golden rule - do unto others what you would have done unto you. I am forever reminding you to "just be KIND to one another" and to help one another - because you are so incredibly lucky to HAVE one another in the first place. At this age you think it's just another dorky thing that your Mum says ... but the reality of it is, I bear witness to you helping one another, loving one another, and being one another's support group. That's not to say it's all wine and roses - you are quite capable of annoying one another, yelling at one another, and giving one another a real dose of where-for. I often hear "she kicked me" "he snatched it from me" "she's not being nice"... but then I watch you snuggle together on the couch, or cheer your brother on at a basketball game, or say "good job" when someone has done something right. I think you'll find you love each other no matter how much you make each other crazy - and as a sibling myself, I can promise you that it's true even when you're grown ups.

Your Dad and I have also had a lot to deal with this year, and I'm both proud and embarrassed to say we've needed to lean on the three of you for support. Embarrassed because it's hard to believe that responsible adults need the support of a group of children, and proud because the three of you rise to the occasion each and every time. I've lost count of the times I've just told you that I really could use a hug - and I get crushed in the stampede of arms heading my way. The number of times you don't complain when Dad or I have to work instead of play, the number of times we've just needed some time to ourselves and you've done your best to respect that. Yes, your Dad and I are very fortunate to have the three of you on our team.

This year your household chores have increased, our demands on your behaviour have increased, and your demands on yourself have increased as well. Claire is now dancing twice a week, Julian is now a basketball player and Cub scout, and Alexis is still the bendy-est, flexie-ist gymnast I know. Your school requirements have extended to learning instruments (much to my chagrin but your delight), your responsibilities to our house and pet continue, and in general you've had to become far more involved in your own communities of school, home and shul. It makes me very proud to know that you've taken all of these responsibilities in your stride (and I'll forgive you the complaining.)

I think I'll end this post by telling you about a typical triplet moment in our lives. This morning on the way to school you asked me to tell me the story about the day you were born (a story which you all know verbatim, but clearly it hasn't lost anything in the constant re-telling.) I began my story like this, "The day you three were born was the happiest and most frightening day of my life." Before I could continue, I was interrupted - a frequent occurrence for me. Alexis wanted to know, "But then once we were born you were just happy, right?" Not scared any more?" and before she could finish Claire interrupted and said, "Of COURSE she was happy because we were the most fabulous amazing babies EVER in the UNIVERSE!" and then came Julian, saying, "Wait, wait, wait - Mum! That's not the beginning of the story! The beginning of the story is when you went to the hospital. Did you forget the story? You forgot the story of your own babies being born?!"

I could only smile... because that's pretty much how all our conversations are - with interruptions and questions and debate and endless chatter. In our family you need patience, because it takes us a while just to finish a sentence.

It then took several minutes to answer all the questions and protestations and carrying on... and eventually I started again with saying, "The day you were born was the happiest and most frightening day of my life... but I was only frightened for a while because then you were born, and you were happy and healthy and strong and therefore the most fabulous amazing babies in the universe. But really, I should start this story from the moment I walked into that hospital..." and I continued, all the way until we got to school...at which point you all stayed in the car for several minutes to ask yet more questions and interject with your own versions of this story. You all then tumbled out of the car in a flurry of tangled jumpers and unzipped backpacks and boxes of birthday cupcakes, and you made your way through the school gate.

Julian was the last to leave the car, and before walking away he stuck his head in the open window, smiled and said, "Mum? Did it REALLY happen like that? Or were you just telling a good story?"

Well, Jules, it's like this. Yes, it really happened like that... and yes, it's a good story. Truth is, I love being your Mum because the three of you not only make me a better storyteller, but you make all of our lives a story worth telling in the first place.

Happy Birthday.

Ignorance is Bliss

Since school is the topic of the day, I thought I would post a follow-up to my post about Being Revolutionary. I'm actually quite frustrated with the situation. A parent in the group - a parent who participated in the letter writing - apparently took it upon themselves to complain verbally to the principal about the meeting. The principal, in turn, approached a parent also in attendance at that meeting, and they had an informal discussion about what ensued. And that, my friends, was the end of that.

The letter never got sent (although I suggested it should.) Nobody stood up and said anything, no big revelation happened. It's all ... just... the same. Given that I am pro-revolution, I'm actually disappointed that things never actually got any further. Nobody is any happier about the issues there, and yet, whatever wave of action we were riding has hit the shore and ended up as foam.

So here's what I discovered. It's lonely being revolutionary. I could have taken that letter, and sent it myself, with only my name at the bottom. Except that I know that one person standing alone is going to have very little impact - especially since not all of the things listed there are things which have happened to me personally. So it would be difficult to send a letter of concern when only one or two of those items are of concern to me personally. I needed the support of the group (and felt we would be much more effective) to move this situation forward.

I am in a quandary here, as the parents who were unhappy then are still unhappy now. The situations outlined in our letter have not improved. Nothing, actually, has changed even one iota.

I want, and need, to be revolutionary. I'm just not sure entirely how to best go about it.

Sacrifice

Of recent topical interest to my friends and I is the whole private school versus public school debate... or more specifically, if private school is really worth the kidney you need to sell to afford it. DH and I chose to send our kids to a private school for primary school - mostly because we had some financial assistance which enabled us to do so, and also because it was important to us that they get a religious education from a young age. It's entirely possible to get that religious education through other means, but at the time we were making the decision, that was certainly a factor. The reality is, unless we get some extreme form of financial aid (or grow a few more kidneys), there is no way we will be able to afford to privately educate our kids through the end of high school. It's actually highly probable that their only private education will be to Grade 6 - because after that it becomes close to 60K per year and, call me crazy, I quite like being able to eat and have a roof over my head.

That being said, here's my official opinion on private school. I think there is a very small group of children for whom the opportunities private school offers will truly be the difference between living a average life, and living a highly successful life. I believe that the vast majority of children will fail or succeed regardless of the uniform they wear (here in Australia all children wear uniforms, both public and private). Simply paying enormous school fees guarantees nothing at all. In fact, conversations with The Neighbour's Wife about her teaching experiences have just reinforced my feeling that losers, nobodies, ignorants and total drop-kicks can be found even in a expensive blazer and school tie. Similarly, brilliant kids can be found at our local public schools. I think the parents who believe that private school will guarantee their child success in life are just fooling themselves... money does not buy success.

Success, to me, is something which is shaped in part by formal education - but it's also very much shaped by the education which occurs outside of school hours. Do you fill your home with books? Expose your children to cultural activities? Eat dinner together and chat about your day? What are you doing at home to ensure your child grows up to be a confident, contributing member of society? Why are you expecting that your school will do the work for you? Sure, your child might graduate speaking fluent French, having spent 4 weeks in Paris... but will you actually LIKE the person they are?

Let's suppose for a minute that someone offered me free tuition to a fabulous private school for all 3 of my kids. In all honesty, I'd have to consider the offer... but it's highly likely I'd reject that offer, too - for one or all of them. I firmly believe that as parents our responsibility is to our children - and to that end, we're responsible for finding the school which we believe will fit them best - not the one with the indoor pool and Olympic squash courts. If it turned out the best school for my kid was the one I couldn't afford.. well, then I'd have to consider what's best for us as a family - because I believe children can succeed in the right environment, and that environment is the one both in and out of the classroom. A friend recently said that they won't be able to afford family holidays and other luxuries while their child is in private school. I understand how important that decision is to her, but it's not one I could comfortably make myself. I simply couldn't sacrifice our family's general quality of life in that way, and I would worry about becoming resentful about it. I suppose this makes me selfish, and I'm okay with that. I also worry about the pressure on my child... knowing that his or her education was the reason we couldn't holiday, or enjoy life's luxuries - that's a lot of pressure to put on a kid.

Among my friends, the private school debate rages as we all consider what we want for our kids versus what we can afford, and in some part what we feel those schools can do for our kids. I'd be lying if I said there was not some element of societal acceptance as well - frankly, among many of my peers, a private school is considered the only option. To be heard to be considering a non-private school...is, well, akin to social suicide. Nowhere was this more true than on Cubs camp (a post I have yet to write... clearly my lack of private schooling has left me a slacker)... but that's another story for another day.

In the meantime, riddle me this - how much, really, is that private school education worth?

Mocho-Choco-Latta-Yah-Yah

I recently read a book which made me think about a number of my food choices. Not of the "should I eat more ice cream?" choices (to which there is only one correct answer) but of the "should I go organic?" choices - and since I read this book, food and it's origin has been on my mind. So I was pleasantly surprised to hear that even chocolate can have a conscience. Green and Black's chocolate, which is organic, is now certified FreeTrade. So theoretically you can eat as much of it as you like and not feel guilty about what you might be doing to the world.... although if you eat enough of it you might feel a smidge of guilt about what you might be doing to your thighs!

The Green and Black's company were nice enough to send me a number of products to try - milk chocolate, dark chocolate, Maya Gold (dark infused with orange) and white chocolate (infused with vanilla). I'd be lying if I said I didn't crack open the milk chocolate packet within seconds of getting it in my hot little hands. I ripped it open, broke off a piece, put it in my mouth...and was sorely disappointed. Admittedly I have a very SWEET tooth - meaning the more sugar is in something, the happier I am. So I had a look and it turns out that their milk chocolate is actually 34% cocoa - which is pretty high compared to most milk chocolates I've tried and perhaps it was the extreme sweetness I was missing.

The white chocolate was pretty okay, but for me the other 3 flavours had a unpleasant after taste. I'm not even sure how to describe it other than just "yucky" ... it had a strange, strong after-taste and just wasn't all that fabulous to eat in the first place with a very 'flat' flavour. Since I'm not a huge dark chocolate fan I had DH and DD2 taste it since they are both dark choc addicts (of the "If it's not 70% or higher I'm not interested" types). DH agreed it had a very strange taste and then after-taste, and DD2 thought it was the nicest chocolate she'd every eaten. Hmmm. Inconclusive.

So I took it to the next level and decided to bake with it. I used the dark chocolate to make an amazing Mocha self-saucing pudding, which got rave reviews from the various people lucky enough to get a piece.

I still wasn't convinced, though... so I tried a chocolate self-saucing pudding (so the coffee could not mask the chocolate taste.) The pudding was okay and there was no evidence of either the odd chocolate taste or after-taste. I'd happy use the G&B for cooking purposes... but I still wasn't convinced we'd reached any real consensus about if this chocolate was any good to eat. Ethically, it was great...but I can't eat ethics. So we brought out what was left at a recent family dinner and had everyone taste the milk, dark, and Maya.

Hmm.

Half the table spit it out and said, "What IS this stuff? It's terrible!" and the other half said, "Yum! Can I have another piece?" and then gobbled the rest up, offering to take home any spare blocks. I'm not sure exactly what it is about Green & Black's which causes such a divergence in tastes - certainly I've seen and heard many a Melbourne foodie really enjoy it and refer to it as their go-to chocolate, but my personal experience is not the same. For me, I love that even luxury items like chocolate are being produced with social responsibility, and I applaud their efforts to be organic and free-trade. Now if only they'll go certified sweet, we'll all be happy.

Beautiful Poverty

I've neglected emzeegee & the hungry three for a couple of weeks because we all headed off on a tropical adventure, and since we've come home I've been stuck with the head cold from hell. DH thinks I'm attempting weight loss by mucus, since it's surely impossible that one person can blow their nose as often as I am and not lose something. While the idea of fat morphing into snot and then disappearing sounds appealing, let me assure you that going to the gym is far more successful and kinder on one's nose.

We spent 11 days in and around the islands of Hawaii - first on a 7 day cruise through the islands and then a scant 2 days in Honolulu. Yes, I know that equals 9, and I said 11... but since I live at the ends of the earth, it takes a day to actually get anywhere and another day to get back.

What struck me about our time in Hawaii is the incongruity of it all. We took a number of different tours and saw all sorts of amazing things... and yet what stuck with me was how many times we saw poor people, saw homeless people, and heard stories of people with 2 or 3 jobs who are struggling just to get by. I took some time to chat to our various tour leaders, bus drivers and locals we met, and for everyone the story was the same. Hawaii is hurting. I found myself quite shocked at the state of some of the housing there - ramshackle houses which look as though they would not survive the summer breeze let alone the hurricanes that come to that area. Of particular shock was the homes we saw around the big island.

On the one hand, people are clearly struggling. On the other, I could not believe how inexpensive everything there was. Food. Drinks. Clothing. Souvenirs. Absolutely everything we came across was ridiculously inexpensive. Even tours - whole day tours for $75! Of the most shock - and joy - was the cost of clothing. I literally bought massive bags of stuff for my kids- pants, shirts, jeans, shoes, belts, sweatshirts... and the bill came to something like $130. School uniform pants for my son, for which here I'd pay upwards of $50, were $12.50. The shoes he loves (Keen's) are $200 here and less than $100 there. The exact same tennis shoes I bought for myself the day BEFORE we left Australia for a bargain of $80 (normally over $100, hence I thought I was the most fab shopper ever) were on sale at Nordstroms for $31.

$31. Less than a third of what I'd normally pay retail.

So in a country where everything appears ridiculously cheap.. why are people struggling so much? Is it the cost of housing? The cost of insurance? What? I just found it so difficult to marry the image of all those sad houses, and all those people sharing their stories of struggling - with the fact that I took my daughter out to lunch and both of us (with drinks) paid less than $10... and had plenty of leftovers. Why are these people not affording to live to a good standard? What is wrong with America? Why are Hawaiian pineapples now bearing a "grown in Costa Rica" sticker?

Hawaii, like Australia, suffers a little bit from being an island. So most things are going to be more expensive than on the mainland purely on account of transport. Not a whole lot is actually produced on the island, so most of it has to come from somewhere, and getting it there costs a heck of a lot. Australia has the same issue - so a lot of things here are crazy expensive simply because they are imported. Even accounting for "island living tax" - things were just crazy, crazy cheap. I bought my girls a hoodie at Gap for $11. I couldn't even get a hoodie for $11 here if I was at K-Mart AND it was on clearance.

Of course, not everyone is struggling - certainly as we left the tourist areas of Waikiki we saw some amazing properties. Huge, stunning, amazing villas. And we met people who are leading perfectly middle class lives and doing just fine... so it's not as though the entire place is falling apart or anything. It just seemed like there was this veneer of beauty and underneath was a struggling state. I have heard many stories from friends and relatives about the state of the American economy in recent months (years...) but Hawaii was truly an eye-opener for me.

Be Revolutionary

Imagine what our world would be like if nobody ever stood up for what they believed in. If women didn't have the right to vote, if African Americans were not free to mix with Caucasians, if many families did not hide Jews during Hitler's regime, if... there are endless examples of how someone daring to be be a revolutionary improved society as we know it. It's not just society, though.. it's science, too. Think of the scientists who dared to try new things, who went against the status quo in order to prove their theories. Many of those are the people we have to thank for vaccines, antibiotics... I could go on for a while here. What about those people who dare to be revolutionary right in their own backyard? Where are those people?

Over the past couple of years there have been some rather irritating things happening at the kids' school. Incorrect billing practices, disorganised events, major communication breakdowns - you get the idea. For some time now I (and many other parents) have chosen to remain silent, really only voicing our concerns to one another. Last year I made an attempt at bringing one of these issues to the attention of the principal - only to have her fob me off and tell me I didn't fully understand the situation. After it took over 6 months to get a reply to an email, a second attempt at discussion proved equally futile.

At a recent parent's association meeting, I asked the staff member present (not the principal) what the procedure was for parents who needed to voice a concern about administration. Long story short, asking that question was the equivalent to opening up a big bag of angry cats in a small room filled with cat-allergic people. The room erupted with people all similar in their frustration and dissatisfaction with various issues - and in no time at all it became obvious that this was not MY issue, this was OUR issue. Long story short, it was determined that the only action available to us was to write a letter to the governing Council of the school and hope we could get them to listen or at the least sit up and notice.

The letter is written. It's not derogatory. It's not accusatory. It's filled with positive language, with "we want our school to be fabulous,", with "let's work together," with "surely we can all improve" and so on and so forth. It's not at all the guns blazing letter I wrote in my head, but it IS the one I think we should send. Frankly, it's all gentle and nice-nice... but it's all true. We DO have a vested interest in the long term improvement and growth of our little school and we know that telling them off would achieve nothing other than making us look like hysterical complaining parents. Which we are - but it's an attitude which we know won't get us anywhere, hence the tone of the letter.

Why, then, are we finding it so hard to get people to sign it? Not only 'people' but the very people who themselves admit they are unhappy with the situation? One parent won't sign because her husband told her to "stay out of trouble," another is worried that signing will affect her chances for scholarship in future years...and so on. Of course, they are entitled to not sign - it's their right and I can understand their concerns. I don't agree with their concerns, but we all have our own moral compass - and we all need to decide for ourselves when to be revolutionary and when to stand on the sidelines. I know I'm brave, and outspoken, and extroverted...and I know other people are not. Some people just are not the type to stand up - and I appreciate that the world needs leaders as much as it needs followers. However, I'm still having a hard time swallowing this.

One of the parents asked me what I would do if the Council did nothing about the situation - would I still sign if I knew that? Of course I would - because knowing I tried to bring attention to something, and then failed at that attempt - would still be more valuable than sitting and doing nothing. Council ignoring our letter would in itself speak volumes about the school, wouldn't it?

Someone else asked if admin problems are really going to affect my kids' education? Is not getting a correct bill (for more than 3 years now) going to really affect their day-to-day happiness at school? Actually, YES, it will. Fact is, a lot of these admin problems are the reason why the school is not growing - there has been no growth in a few years now. The current Grade 5 class has 5 kids in it. Parents are choosing to take their kids out of this school for reasons related to admin ... and ultimately, that DOES affect my kids and their education. If staff morale is low and great teachers leave .. that too affects my kids education. If they get to Grade 5 and there are only 5 kids (of which they would be 3), well, that's not really doing them any favours either.

So, I'm choosing to be revolutionary. Because someone has to be.

The Way The Apple Crumbles

On the same weekend as the ice cream cake extravaganza, DS decided to make a somewhat healthier dessert option. While he likes sweet stuff, he has an absolute obsession with fruit. All sorts of fruit - he could easily eat several pieces a day (and often does.) So if a dessert or dinner includes some sort of fruit, he's a happy camper (and we all know about the camping, don't we?!). When he helps with menu planning, he almost always picks some sort of fruit based dessert as an optional extra and this weekend was no exception.

As crumbles go, this one has the advantage of being easy and delicious. Maybe not the OMG WOW crumble recipe,but certainly the oh-no-company's-coming! dessert to turn to.

Apple and Berry Crumble

6 granny smith apples, peeled, cored and sliced
1/4 cup sugar
punnet strawberries, hulled and sliced
2 cups frozen mixed berries of your choice
60g cold butter, cubed
1/2 cup self raising flour
3/4 cup rolled oats
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup breadcrumbs
1 tsp cinnamon (I added more)
1 T honey
cream, to serve (essential...although can be replaced by ice cream of course)

Preheat oven to 180C. Lightly grease a 6 cup capacity oven dish.

1. Place the sliced apples in a pot over medium heat. Add the sugar and stir until sugar dissolves. 2. Cover and cook for 5 minutes or until apples are tender but not floppy. Remove from heat. Stir in berries and spoon mixture into the ovenproof dish.
3. Rub the butter into the flour until it resembles coarse breadcrumbs. Stir in the oats, brown sugar, breadcrumbs, cinnamon and honey. Spoon the crumble over the fruit.
4. Bake for 25-30 minutes or until crumble is golden and smelling so scrummy you can't take another minute of waiting. Serve with cream.

Is it Ice Cream O'Clock yet?

There is no point in trying to be kind, so I'm just going to come out and say it:

Vanilla ice cream is CRAPPY.

It is a rare event where I find a vanilla ice cream I like - because most of them are either flavourless, artificial-tasting, or just plain old' BLAH. A vast majority of commercial vanilla ice cream is just not worth the calories, which is not generally something I would say about ANY ice cream. There are a few premium vanilla ice creams which are mostly okay (Sara Lee, I'm looking at you) but most of them are just pathetic. As the inventor of 'ice cream o'clock' - which is the offical time of day or night when you feel the need to eat some ice cream - I feel I'm fairly well qualified to wax lyrical on the crappiness of vanilla ice cream.

I'm nothing if not fair, though, so when DD2 saw this recipe for an ice cream cake ... which involved copious amounts of vanilla ice cream.. I couldn't possibly refuse her, now could I? Plus I might have been just the tiniest bit influenced by the fact that this recipe also includes chocolate, 2 whole packages of sprinkles, and savioardi biscuits. Even bad vanilla ice cream can surely be improved by all those additions, right?

Absolutely right.

Chocolate Freckle Ice Cream Cake

2 litres vanilla ice cream
200g butter, softened
1 1/2 cups pure icing sugar
4 eggs at room temp
400g good quality dark chocolate, chopped
1/2 cup thickened cream
250g sponge finger biscuits
2 x 175g packets hundreds and thousands (sprinkles)

1. Remove ice cream from the freezer and allow to stand while you do all the other bits.
2. Using an electric mixer, cream the butter and sugar until pale. Add eggs, 1 at a time, beating well after each addition - the mixture may look curdled but that's fine.
3. Combine chocolate and cream in a microwave safe bowl. Microwave for one minute and stir, and continue one minute at a time until melted and smooth. Add to butter mixture and beat until smooth.
4. Sprinkle one packet of hundreds and thousands into the bottom of a springform tin (25cm base). Spoon over half the chocolate mixture, taking care not to disturb the sprinkles.
5. Cut all the biscuits in half, length ways to make two thinner fingers (as though you are torting a cake, not right down the middle but across the width.) Lay these over the chocolate mixture in a single layer, cutting some smaller if need be. Spoon over the ice cream and gently smooth.
6. Press remaining biscuits into the tin and then pour over the remaining chocolate mixture. The sprinkle over the remaining packet of sprinkles. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and foil and freeze overnight.


This cake was, in a word, totally AWESOME and would make a great, quick cake for a kids' birthday or family event. In our case it was the perfect dessert for Oscars watching! A word of warning, you need to use quite a large springform. Ours wasn't quite big enough so we ended up in a delicious mess - all it meant was that the next day I had to flip the cake over and use the bottom as the top. No less delicious and fabulous but the sprinkles were not as bright as I would have liked.

Monopoly Is Awesome

It's entirely possible that the title of this post might have been "Monopoly SUCKS"... but since I ended the game like this:


I feel I can be more kindly towards what is possibly the longest, most boring, frustrating game ever invented. Seriously. Whoever invented Monopoly clearly had a warped sense of what is actually fun and what's not. In our case we were playing "the dot com" edition, which my Mom bought my DH several years ago. So all the properties are well-known websites...and it was very amusing to see that there is no Google, but there is a Lycos and an Ask Jeeves and a whole bunch of other sites which are now RIP. All the money is in millions and the cards are "Email" and "Download" cards. The whole game is actually pretty cute, and the perfect (and yet somehow most boring) way to blow a few afternoons with DS and DH.

Since I needed an excuse to get up every few minutes (or fall asleep at the table), I decided to also do some lovely Autumn slow cooking. So our game was enhanced by the delicious smell - and then heavenly taste - of Beef with Orange, Prines, Cumin and Green Beans... with a side of Saffron Pilaf.

Seriously, seriously good... and a seriously good diversion from my strategy which involved having no money but boat loads of property.

Did I mention that I won? No, I totally MOPPED THE FLOOR with my boys. Bwahahahaha, it's great to be Queen.


Beef with Orange, Prunes, Cumin and Green Beans
Originally from Good Taste magazine, June 2008

Serves 6
1/4 cup plain flour
1.25kg casserole beef (blade steak) cut into 5 cm pieces
1/3 cup olive oil
2 large brown onions, halved and thinly sliced
1/4 cup tomato paste
1 tsp ground turmeric
2 1/2 tsp ground cumin
2 cups fresh orange juice
1 1/2 cups beef stock
1 cup pitted prunes
400g green beans, trimmed

NB: 1.25kg = 2.4 pounds, and 400g = 1 pound

1. Place the flour on a plate and season with salt and pepper. Add the beef and toss to coat. Shake off excess.
2. Heat 2T of oil in a large casserole over medium high heat. Add half the beef and cook, turning, until browned (about 5 min). Transfer to a plate then repeat with remaining beef. Set beef aside.
3. Heat the remaining oil in the pot. Add the onion and cook until soft. Add the tomato paste, turmeric and cumin and cook for about 1 minute or until fragrant. Return the beef to the pot and add the orange juice, stock and prunes. Bring to a simmer.
4. Reduce heat to very low. Cook, partially covered, for 1 hour. Add the beans and cover the pot, and cook for a further hour or until the meat is very tender. Season with salt and pepper.

Saffron Pilaf
Serves 6

1/4 cup olive oil
2 T butter
2 brown onions, finely chopped
1 1/2 cups basmati rice
large pinch of saffron threads
2 1/2 cups beef stock or water

Heat the olive oil and butter in a large, heavy based saucepan over medium heat. Add the onions and cook for 5 minutes or until soft. Add the rice, saffron and stock. Bring to the boil, then reduce heat and cook over medium heat until liquid is absorbed. Set aside and stand, covered, for a further 5 minutes. Use a fork to separate the grains.

Enjoy!

Apparently, I SHALL pee in the woods

So Mr I-Need-A-Halo has been sticking to his plan and behaving like a perfect angel.

Damn.

When I told my sister that I was going camping, she only stopped laughing long enough to say, "You've got to write a book about it!" When I said that she was perhaps more of a princess than I, she just laughed harder and said, "Well, *I* can't write a book about it because there is no way in hell I would go camping in the first place." Awesome... so I can clearly count on her support, right? The good news is that next week's Mums and Cubs great adventure has been postponed to late April. Next week it's just the kids on their own, and they get to sleep in tents. Apparently in order to make the Mums more ... comfortable... THAT camp will involve dormitories rather than tents.

This does not make me feel better. Dorms involve things like bunk beds. I do not 'do' bunk beds.

However, I am heartened by the fact that DS seems to have finally gotten his act together (at least as much as I can expect him to) and my original plan worked. A little too well, but it still worked.

Therefore, come late April, I will be the MOST AWESOME mother ever to sleep in a dormitory...because, you know, they're so comfy and all.

I Shall Not Pee In The Woods

As I've blogged about before, DS has had a whole bunch of issues at school over the last few months. Many hours and hundreds of dollars later, it turns out that he's smarter than all of us. After all, he's had a gaggle of adults running around him trying to make him happy - while he just sits back and does whatever the hell he wants anyway. So you tell me which one of us is the clever one, right?

Needless to say things seem to be on the improve (and thank god for that, I was about this close --><-- to a nervous breakdown). However, DS doesn't seem to be getting that he is in fact as much a part of the solution as the rest of us are. Basically, if he doesn't come up with the behavioural goods, there is no point in all of us trying to help him. For several weeks now I've been trying to figure out how to get him on board with all of this and failing miserably.

Most child psychs tell you that in order to wield power over kids, use an item of value. An item of value to the kid, that is - so take away their Nintendo, don't let them have play dates, reduce their TV time, etc. Basically figure out what's precious to your kid and then take it away. The theory is that the kid will eventually fall in line because they want their item of value back. This theory fails miserably in my house. We don't own expensive or noisy toys, we already limit their TV time, we don't have a lot of play dates, and all their extra-curricular activities are physical and therefore necessary and not optional (IMHO anyway).

And then there was the camping.

About a week ago, DH sent me an email from the Cub Scouts which said that they are having a Mums and Cubs camping weekend at the end of this month.

And we all know how much I love camping.

About as much as I love Helicopter Mom, Other People's Kids, and the birthday cakes DH gets me. Actually I love camping even LESS than that, to the power of a gazillion.

I HATE dirt, uncomfortable beds, spiders, toilets which need gravity to flush, poor quality toilet paper, building a fire with anything other than a functioning 6 burner stove, eating stuff overcooked over wood, singing songs, mosquitoes, kids running around in packs, bus rides, duffle bags, sleeping bags, housing which requires construction and sticks and stuff, flies, creeks, mud, hiking shoes which give you blisters, and absolutely everything else which has anything at all to do with camping.

But I'm a Mum. And in the Mum guidebook, Commandment Number One is YOU SHALL SUFFER.

Like a bolt out of the blue I suddenly realised that there are in fact two things that DS values. Firstly, one on one time with his dear old Mum. As a triplet, one on one parent time is decidedly limited. Secondly, he absolutely adores travelling and camping and going away doing cool stuff, and he KNOWS how much I hate that stuff with an extreme passion.

And so the "Mum and DS Camp" chart was born. Between when we started and the dreaded camp, there are 14 school days. DS has to behave LIKE A FREAKIN' ANGEL for all of those 14 days, and the reward is that I will suffer 2 nights away in the woods. With other people's kids. Which will likely have more than one Helicopter Mom (but probably no birthday cake.) Now because I am a reasonable sort of person, I also gave him two 'get out of jail free' cards... because in his world, perfect behaviour for 14 days is close to impossible. He is, after all, human. Or at least I think so.

We're now onto Day 5 of the Race to Torture Mum, and so far he's been as good as gold. Literally skips out of school, grins broadly and says, "Another GREAT day, Mum!"

Fucking kid. NOW he decides to behave?

I hate it when a plan comes together.