Advice or insult

23 Jan

I was at a get together with friends on Sunday. We were attempting to catch up while our kids ran around like mad having a ball. As we often do we started talking about our health. I can’t remember how the subject came up but next thing I knew I was talking about my exercise regime. After describing it and recommending it to my friends I over-heard the husband of one of my friends use the word ‘offensive’. I’m not sure if he was talking about me giving exercise advice to his wife but I suddenly thought my advice could have been offensive. When they talked about how they found it hard to exercise was I meant to tell them that they were perfect and didn’t need to increase their exercise? I’ve never been one to lie to fulfill social conventions but I also hate to think I offended these two friends in particular who are without doubt two of the most beautiful women I have ever met.

I tell everyone I can about Total Body Sculpt with Gilad. I discovered it almost three years ago on Discovery Healthy on Foxtel. It’s a twenty minute toning and sculpting workout with light weights and it is the best exercise discovery I have ever made. It’s intense and effective. It’s quick and convenient. All I needed was to buy a set of light weights and I was off. Nothing has ever toned me as quickly as this exercise show has. Since having my little girl I have been doing it almost every second day. I’ve never had toned thighs before. I have toned thighs now. I buy and hand out copies of it to everyone who asks what I do for exercise. I’ve given it to both my sisters and two other friends. I hand it out not to be offensive but so they can feel as amazing as I do with little effort. We are all busy and we all have kids. We are all struggling with money and finding time to go to the gym. I just want them to discover how easy it can be to tone up without worrying that they should be spending hours each week jogging, taking them away from the things they really want to do.

I don’t believe in exercise for weight loss but how could her husband know this? To me weight loss is about diet and I would never tell anyone what to eat. I believe in exercise for mental and physical health. That’s what I was trying to share. And they were happy to hear my suggestions, going so far as to write it all down. As we talked about it another friend who I’d already sent it to said she loves it and plans to start doing it again regularly.

My friends are all so beautiful and I wish they all felt as beautiful as they are but we don’t usually feel as attractive as others see us. Sharing my Gilad secret is my way of letting them know I understand how they feel and helping them to feel better about themselves in a quick and convenient way.

My choice of exercise won’t suit everyone. We all have different exercise personalities. Some of us crave the outdoors and choose to go for a walk, some of us only feel amazing after something sweaty, others like someone to tell them what to do and there are some who are invigorated by the atmosphere in gyms and boot camps. I need to feel muscle fatigue to feel like I’ve exercised but I don’t get much time to myself so I knew if I was to keep it up I would have to find something to do at home and this has been a God-send.

I watched the first episode of the new season of The Biggest Loser tonight. I wanted to hug each and every one of them. Most of us have been much bigger than is comfortable at least once in our lives. I know their pain. I can’t wait to see the joy on their faces as their weight falls and they realise they can control their health and happiness instead of feeling trapped.

When I had my third child, sixteen months after having my second son, I had such weak abdominal muscles that I almost couldn’t lift him up into his seat in my 4WD. It was then that I knew I need a major muscle intervention and my accidental discovery of this amazing exercise show on Foxtel while looking for more shows about raising babies is something I am so thankful for. When they stop running it every now and then I have my DVD version bought on Amazon but I eventually send them an email begging them to put it back on so I have plenty of variety.

Gilad, whoever you are, I am so grateful for you. My biceps, my children and I thank you.

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

 

 

Witness

21 Jan

Tonight I witnessed my first ‘glassing’ incident.

I was at a younger friend’s birthday celebration with my sister. We pulled up to a fancy looking venue which was cleverly designed to be a mostly outdoor space. It was lovely and seemed very posh to us. It’s located out of the CBD so it’s easy to get to and park near. The night started well. We looked around impressed and considered functions we could have there in the future. Our friend had an area to herself and the DJ was playing great music. Dinner was delicious and we were starting to have fun.

It all started to go a awry when we noticed we were having trouble breathing. Apparently the clever outdoor design allows it to be one of the rare venues left where smoking is permitted everywhere. The busier it became the more clogged the air became. Then we noticed how short the girls dresses were. I turned 36 today and I know I’m older than the average patron but really…the dresses were tops to me. It looked like they had forgotten to put pants on. Not all the girls, but many of them. And the guys were so young. My sister kept commenting that she was old enough to be the mother of many of them. We’d certainly wandered into the wrong venue or ten years too late!

My sister and I were having trouble figuring out what to do. We didn’t know too many people at the party we were at, we’d eaten, my sister had a couple of drinks and one game of the pokies. We joked about going to the toilets and taking our pants off in an attempt to fit in (using our tops as dresses) but decided to start dancing instead, pants and all. The DJ who was playing great music had an annoying habit of changing songs after the first chorus. By this stage it was too loud to yell at him to play the entire song or at least most of it so we shrugged it off and kept dancing. That’s when I noticed a smaller guy walking quickly away from a menacing looking man who was in hot pursuit. They weren’t running but their fast path cut across the dance floor and got our attention. We kept on dancing and then we saw a commotion. The menacing man was gaining on the other guy and before my eyes the pursuer threw his glass with force towards the pursuee. Glass shattered everywhere. It was on.

Before I could yell for security several security and staff members came running and grabbed the glasser quickly. But he wasn’t going down without a fight. It took several security personnel and a couple of bar staff to drag him out of the venue. Unfortunately his forced exit was being made just behind where my sister and I stood gapping. I dragged her out of the way and they ejected him and fought to keep him under control until the police arrived a few minutes later. The music had been turned off as soon as the glass was thrown. Obviously there was a zero-tolerance policy to drunken violence. The DJ put on a loud song as soon as he had been dragged out and we started dancing again, half-heartedly, when I noticed the two girls my sister and I had just been dancing with sitting down next to the dance floor. One seemed to be having trouble breathing. I went over to them and the girl having trouble breathing seemed to be having a panic attack. Her friend who had obviously helped her through one before was trying to calm her down. I asked if I should get a drink and her friend asked me to bring some water. I ran and grabbed it from the bar and the girl in distress gulped some of it down. My sister made her laugh by doing some silly dancing and she was able to stand up and walk back to her table.

In the meantime a crowd had formed and was watching the police deal with the drunk-and-disorderly glasser. Lleyton Hewitt was trying to advance in the Australian Open at the time but his struggle was now being ignored, despite the giant screens located all over the venue. Several police marched in and were directed to witnesses by bar staff. They stayed for at least an hour. They had blocked off the street and while we tried to dance and move on with our night staff were on edge and everyone seemed a little shocked.

Lleyton Hewitt ended up winning his marathon match against Milos Raonic but by then we were in my car heading home. I felt unsafe. There were so many glasses everywhere. There were piles and piles of potential projectiles everywhere I turned. They should switch to plastic. They should have a non-smoking area. They should re-think their open plan design. There were some antsy looking patrons whom I suspected were friends of the now arrested glasser. The DJ kept changing the song. I didn’t recognise some of the songs. Someone breathed smoked directly into my face, making me cough. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

This is one venue I won’t be patronising again. I love going out and dancing and having a couple of drinks but it’s hard to find a venue in which I feel safe and comfortable. I use tops and tops, not dresses, I don’t drink (my sister just has a couple) and we just want to be able to dance and breathe at the same time. The only time we ever really have fun is when it’s our own private function or if it is a dinner-dance organised by our children’s school. Everywhere else is just so unsafe, especially venues that still use glassware and masquerade as stylish when they are in fact just havens for smokers. I’m not anti-smoker, I just want an area for non-smokers too.

Gosh, I sound so old don’t I? We were really freaked out by the violence and everything else just gave me a headache. It was just a little too much.

Now I am back home, safe in front of my computer. I have no desire to go out at night again any time soon. It’s a crazy world out there and one I no longer feel safe in. It just seems like there is so much violence and over what? I keep trying to think of what could have offended this man so much that he resorted to violence. It wasn’t even targetted violence. He managed to get glass on several people in the surrounding area. He actually spilled half his drink down my sister’s back when he pushed past us. Did the man he was chasing look at his girlfriend? Did he blurt out a racial slur? What could have gone wrong so quickly? When did glassing replace giving someone the finger or telling them to bugger off?

It’s a mystery I will leave for others to solve. My contribution will be staying as far away from similar situations as possible and begging my younger friends to stay safe when they go out. You do need to choose your venue carefully, you need to go out with people you trust and you need to leave as soon as you feel unsafe or uncomfortable. It just looked so nice when we arrived. Appearances can be deceiving, or perhaps this is a normal night for a busy venue with one freakishly strong drunk man who was greatly offended by God only knows what. I’ve never been so happy to see flashing blue and red lights. It was probably a typical Saturday night for them too. Not so  much for me.

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

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Sleep

19 Jan

I haven’t ‘slept through’ since the birth of my son almost eight years ago. Sleep for me is what happens when I’m exhausted and can no longer stay upright. I don’t look forward to bedtime and I sometimes don’t put on special sleeping clothes, choosing to fall down in whatever top I was wearing that day.

Since becoming a mother my sleep has been patchy at best. Even when I do go out of my way to prepare for bedtime, the moment my head hits the pillow mummy-mania hits. Are my kids okay? Will we get through the next day in tact and happy? I think of all the things that could go wrong. I jump when I hear noises. I worry about how I’m doing as a mother. I wish I was more successful, calmer, more confident. The pillow to me is like a trigger for all my anxiety and the longer I lie there trying to switch off and get some rest to prepare for the next day, the worse it becomes.

I have developed an extremely bad habit of falling asleep in front of the TV. It’s the only way I can switch off and fall asleep at a reasonable time. By focusing on whatever is on the box I forget to worry and I drift off. My husband usually turns the TV off and tucks me in on his way to work early each morning. When I wake up with the TV off and a blanket over me I feel loved and cared for. I feel like he’s trying to help me, even though he usually makes it all worse and harder. He exaggerates and over-reacts. He loves to look up childhood ache and pains on the internet and read out loud the scariest information he can find. My son’s chest pains could be heart failure (it was constipation). My son’s sore eye could lead to blindness (one sleep later and it was all better). My son’s neck clicked when I lost my grip on him and heard a click. My husband said it could be a broken neck and then carried him to the next room. The ambulance officers I called out to the house said he was fine. Necks sometimes make a cracking noise. So I’m my worst enemy when it comes to anxiety levels and my husband is an enabler or and exacerbater.

How do you achieve calm when you have three little lives in your hands and so many unfulfilled dreams of your own? Where do you turn when everything in the media inflames a parent’s concerns. I have to buy shoes that assist their feet. Don’t go cheap or their feet could become deformed? If I immunise them against deadly and debilitating diseases I have to accept autism? There could be arsenic in apple juice. I am an irresponsible parent for not buying organic food. It’s endless and it’s getting worse as I get older.

Take a holiday and you could die. Send your child to school too early or too late and they are ruined. Eat the wrong foods and you’ll get cancer. Deepak Chopra here I come.

La Dolce Vita,

Jo Abi

Birthdays are for kids

10 Jan

I feel about my birthday the way I feel about my weight…the less I think about it the better I feel. Turning 36 feels like a milestone because I am now officially on my way to 40. My distress at turning 36 has nothing to do with vanity (well, not much). It has to do with what I thought I would have achieved by this age that I haven’t.

I thought I would have published several books by now. I thought we’d be in a better financial position. I thought I’d have figured out the key to happiness by now. I thought I’d be dressing better, thinking better and coping better. Instead, I still feel like I am making it all up as I go along. I have goals for myself, my husband and my children but I don’t have any aggressive strategy. I just try to nudge us towards the outcome. I’m more passive than I thought I would be. I don’t like how I let some people treat me, I hate how easily I can become upset and I long for a life I’m not sure I’ll ever get to live.

I don’t want to ‘celebrate’ my birthday this year. I didn’t want to celebrate it last year either but my mum insisted on Sunday lunch. The double standard is clear to me because I am usually the one coordinating the birthday gatherings. When I tell my family I don’t really want to do anything I think they think I am testing them but I really don’t want to. I prefer to mark it privately. I’d like some time alone to reflect. I’d like to leave my children at home with my husband and take a solitary walk along the beach and just consider my life, my choices and my goals. I’d like to eat a leisurely breakfast at a cafe while watching the ocean. In short, for my birthday, I want some guilt-free time to myself to enjoy the bliss of doing nothing (thanks Eat Pray Love). I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do.

When you have children you can’t ignore your birthday. For them, birthdays are joyous. Birthdays are about cake, balloons and fun. Birthdays are a blast when you are a kid. But they are a blast because I do a  lot of work in the lead up to ensure the fantasy birthday is fulfilled. So is it so shocking that for my birthday I’d like to sit and do nothing?

My friend is turning 30 on my birthday and has planned a huge celebration. I plan to share in her joy, eat her cake, give her an amazing gift and when she blows out her candles I will make som secret birthday wishes for myself. I wish to be better at everything. I wish for my family and friends to be happy and safe. And I wish for that four-slice red toaster my brother is planning to buy me. I didn’t say no gifts!

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

 

Is it Deborah Hutton’s fault I feel fat?

4 Jan

I buy Women’s Weekly religiously. I am so excited when I see the latest edition on the shelf and I sometimes buy three…one for me, one for my sister and one for my mum. As a woman I appreciate that it gives me the perfect blend of food, clothes, body and news issues to keep me happy. I often clear my afternoon so I can read it from front to back at least once and then I dip in and out over the following weeks until the next edition arrives.

When I saw Deborah Hutton on the cover I was so excited to go home and read the article. As a woman of reasonable intelligence I am aware of the fact that most magazine pictures are retouched in some way, some more than others. I am also aware of makeup, lighting, hairspray and spray tans. I also knew that there was no way Deborah Hutton would ever let anyone re-touch her too much because she has always struck me as a down-to-earth Aussie woman who is not only beautiful but is aware of the many issues surrounding woman and their self-worth. Because she is a woman and no matter how beautiful or accomplished, every woman has their issues.

So why all the drama? Deborah Hutton is beautiful, but why does that make women feel badly about themselves. Even more disturbing is the notion that Deborah Hutton has to look bad or flawed for women to feel good about themselves, as though rejoicing in Deborah’s imperfections will help them to embrace their imperfections. So to feel good about themselves, they have to feed off what they see as wrong and ugly about others. This is such an uncomfortable reflection on women. Why can’t we celebrate each other’s beauty, health and achievements? Why do we feel better when we read about failure and flaws? Is it because they makes us feel normal or is it because our own self-worth is measured against others and not just celebrities?

This certainly explains why many magazines sell so well. Kim’s marriage failed…I feel better that mine is a disaster, Christina is fat…I feel better about my weight, Nicole Kidman’s latest movie didn’t go very well…my career failures are more acceptable to me too. And it doesn’t end there. As women we are constantly sizing each other up. Is she a better mother than me? Is she thinner than me? Is she younger than me? Is she more successful than me?

Not all women are like this but many are. Those of us who are not don’t measure our self-worth against others but instead try to base it on our own internal reflections about ourselves. I am the best mother I can be, I look as good as I can manage, my weight is the best I can get it and I may never look like Deborah Hutton but boy am I going to enjoy reading all about her while I relax with coffee for thirty minutes this afternoon while my children nap.

As women, I find that we also often feel like are alone with our issues and struggles. We see someone enjoying their children and assume they never get cross or have a bad mummy day. We see a pretty girl and assume that she feels as pretty as she looks. We work with a confident colleague and assume that she never doubts herself. This is simply not the case. We all have moments, days and weeks when we feel just as badly as the next person. Take comfort in the fact that everyone struggles from time-to-time meaning we are surrounded by groups of women who understand how hard it can be to be a woman.

We are all doing our best and if not, we can always do better tomorrow. Deborah Hutton is a beautiful, successful Australian woman with a great career, no kids and fab hair. I accept her for who she is and who she is doesn’t influence how I feel about myself.

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

Can Andre help me raise my kids?

27 Dec

 

I have always been a tennis fan. My dad and I used to sit down at the weekend and watch matches together. I loved Pat Cash, Stefan Edberg, Steffi Graf and Ivan Lendl. John Mcenroe scared me. I missed much of Andre Agassi’s rise to fame during my difficult teenage years but later became a huge fan when I watched him struggle to win just one more Grand Slam before he retired.

I was initially excited by the impending release of his autobiography Open and planned to buy it the moment it came out in 2009. Then I read a review that turned me off it completely. His famous hair was a wig and he hated tennis.

I was devastated. I always admired him and his achievements but I felt betrayed. He wasn’t who I thought he was. He seemed like a happy, talented, secure sportsman. Instead he was living the life of a fraud and making himself miserable. It seemed false and unappreciative. I was so disappointed.

I bought the book yesterday and it is the best autobiography I have read this year. I have thawed since my initial shock at his revelations. Who am I to judge him? I wanted to understand what goes on behind the celebrity we are led to believe. How could his real life be so different? I haven’t put his book down. I will read it again once I am done. It is such an amazing story and one I hope will help me to figure something out, something that has been bothering me since I read that 2009 review.

As parents, should we force our children to develop their natural gifts or should we let them be?

Andre Agassi never liked tennis. In fact he hated and loathed it, but it was all he knew. His father forced him to follow his natural talent and Andre didn’t appreciate any of it. His relationship with tennis seemed to be about ego and money and he didn’t seem to enjoy it. Now that I am reading his book I understand how he ended up on this path and I admire him for his achievements even more.

My eldest son is a talent artist. It’s in his genes. His older half-brother and his uncle have the same gift but they never developed it. They didn’t enjoy it so they didn’t pursue it. I often wonder why they didn’t pursue a career in art seeing as they were so naturally gifted. It seems like such a waste. So when my son started drawing life-like pictures Spiderman from the age of four I paid attention. I bought him endless supplies and let him go through as much of it as he wanted. He has drawn every day of his life since his first pictures of Spiderman. He draws ten to twenty pictures a day. He seems to love it. But he hates art class.

I spoke to Philip about art class before I booked him in. I didn’t want to force him to do anything but he was really keen. For the first few weeks he did really well, his work was amazing and there were no complaints. Then he started saying he was too tired to go, that he was sick of it, that he just wanted to draw whatever he wanted and not be told what to draw. So here’s my dilemma. Do I force him to go to class to develop his natural talent so he can get a great job as an artist, designer, architect or any of the many and varied careers an artist can get or do I let him quit and hope for the best?  I really don’t know what to do. I was going to give him the end of the year off but his teacher convinced me to continue him, saying he was so naturally gifted that she would be sad to lose him. She has sent some of his work to Germany and next year he can enter a competition at the Easter Show. He still draws every day and his work in class is amazing. He asked Santa for a proper art easel and has been painting non-stop. His enjoyment is still there but what if I force him to go to class next year and he ends up hating it?

I’ll never forget when I signed my little brother up for soccer. He loved playing soccer with his friends and was always kicking the ball around. So I signed him up on a proper team and he hated it. He enjoyed the training and hanging out with his friends but he told me on the way home one night that he was started to hate it because of the pressure. He said soccer used to be his way of relaxing and now that’s been taken away. I let him quit immediately. I felt terrible that I had ruined soccer for him. He ended up recovering. He just isn’t naturally competitive. He’s more creative and has ended up in web-related advertising and design.

My brother never trained on computers until university. We just let him play around with them as much as he wanted, which was every night. I let him pull my old computers apart to see how they worked. He did it because he loved it and it was his decision to study computing at university himself.

I found my career-path, with some nudging from my mum. I signed up to debating but ended up loving public speaking more. A stranger suggested I look into radio and after floundering for weeks my mum made a call to the local radio station and I joined up and ended up working in radio and still am in some capacity.

So with my son do I do the Andre Agassi push, my little brother’s free approach or the gentle nudging of my mother? I’ll let you know if I ever figure it out. There’s a balance there somewhere but it also depends on my son’s personality. He’s a sensitive and moody little artist. Until I figure it out I will rely on bribery, and just a little pushing. Fingers crossed.

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

 

 

 

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

Why do I buy diet books?

24 Dec

Diets don’t work. I know this with every fiber of my being. Dieting leads me to an unhealthy and draining cycle of famine and feast. I stick to the diet for a few days, even a week, and then I feast on a scheduled cheat day or just because I can’t stand the deprivation any longer.

I’ve never been happier than since I quit dieting and stopped weighing myself. It was so scary at first. The first day I took back control of my meals outside of ‘feast’ day and started my day without weighing myself felt a little like being adrift. I wasn’t sure if the current would take me somewhere good or bad. Would I eat in a healthy and enjoyable way or would I let loose and gain more weight than ever before? My calorie-counting-app is forgotten.

The first day went well, then the next and the next. I now detest the thought of weighing myself. What’s the point? I can tell if I’m bigger or smaller by how my favourite jeans fit. Weighing myself just makes me feel like crap. Even when I lose weight I only feel happy for a few minutes before I set myself a new unattainable goal. I might weigh myself a couple of times a year but not every morning or even every week. It’s so freeing. The scales no longer set my mood for the day. In the shower I can think about the day ahead, not about how the number on the scale is wrong.

The bottom line is that I am thirty-five years old and over the course of my adulthood I have read every diet book I could get my hands on. I know how to eat healthily. I know how much to eat. I know I need to exercise when I can. I know what to do. We all basically do. It’s not about fads or eating organic. It’s about eating as well as you can as often as you can, enjoying occasional treats and exercising in a sustainable way. It’s about you being in control of your own health, not a book or a doctor or a dietician.

Then why am I so excited by the release of the book The Petite Advantage Diet by Jim Karas?

It seems that while I have successfully let go of the need to count calories and weigh myself obsessively I haven’t yet released my search for the latest dieting tip. Here’s the difference though. When I read diet books now or articles and interviews I read to learn. I use the information as advice, not instruction. I read them not to follow them to the letter and change my entire life as diets want you to do. I read them so I know what they are about, so I can pick up tips if I like them and so I can disregard other advice with some semblance of knowledge. It actually makes me appreciate my new-found freedom from regimented diets.

The Petite Advantage Diet hasn’t even been released yet. It’s out on 27 December and I have pre-purchased my copy. I first became aware of it while watching The View on Foxtel. Jim Karas has probably helped many people with the books he has written and with his work with patients. I have read all the samples of the book I can find. It certainly seems to make sense. But it is so strict. Two days of 1100 calories and then one of 1600. Who wants to count calories!

I’m not against diets and diet books. I just wish everyone realised they have to find what works for them and they need to make small and gradual changes, not abrupt and unsustainable ones. Read any book you like, but don’t change your entire life drastically. For example, after reading this book I have learned that I might benefit from eating a larger breakfast and a smaller dinner. I might do that some days if I feel really hungry in the morning. I was also interested in his advice about cardio. He advises against excessive cardio and I learned this myself years ago. The more cardio I did the hungrier I became. But I don’t go to the extreme of cutting out all cardio. What stupid advice. What about my cardiovascular health? So I have reduced it. Instead of 40-60 minutes of cardio I do 20 minutes on my cross trainer and then I do 20 minutes of calisthenics like pushups, crunches, lunges and stretches. I don’t do this every day and I don’t always do them on the same day. I do them when I can. If I’ve had a big meal or some extra birthday cake I might throw in an extra 20 minutes of cardio but no more. It works for me and you need to figure out what works for you. When I can I jump on the trampoline with my kids, chase them with a water pistol and play soccer with them at the park.

Most of my exercise can be done at home. Once a month I might go to my local gym for a spin class but only casually. There’s no way I’m becoming a member. I don’t need a baby sitter, special clothes or equipment to maintain my weight. I have my well-worn cross trainer and my recordings Total Body Sculpt with Gilad which I swear by. My triceps are awesome!

So read everything and do what you can. Weigh yourself if you feel the need to but not every day. Enjoy life and good food. Drink some water every time you have coffee or tea. Take a multi-vitamin as a back-up. Start your day telling yourself you are beautiful and doing your best. Then do your best to eat healthily over the course of the day and know that if you ate a little too much and exercised too little you can always do better tomorrow. Do you really need someone to tell you to eat more fruit and veg? You only like apples and carrots? Eat them every day if you like. Do you want some chocolate? Have some and enjoy it. Enjoy life.

I read a recent interview with actress Kyra Sedgwick. She never weighs herself because she says the number is never right. Instead she chooses to do her best and since she stopped weighing herself every day she found herself not obsessing about food. She chooses not to think about food every minute of every day. She focuses on work, her kids and living life. She has freed herself. I am in the process. I hope you can free yourself too. You will do just fine.

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

Liar liar

22 Dec

I resent being forced to lie to my son about Santa. Isn’t my job as a parent to tell him the truth and explain the way the world works?

Carrying on the Santa myth goes against every parenting principle I hold dear but to tell him the truth is to place an incredible burden on him to keep a secret from his closest family and friends. That too goes against every parenting principle I hold dear. As he gets older the lies become more elaborate, the excuses more far-fetched. I am surprised he hasn’t realised it yet. I dread the day that he does. That will be the day when he realises I have been lying to him his entire life. And why? For fun? For a greater good? No, I have been lying to him because society encourages us to allow children to enjoy the fantasy of a strange and magical man who rewards good behaviour in children by showering them in gifts.

What about the year Santa didn’t bring him the new Nintendo Wii Ben 10 game that Philip had written and asked for? Santa had to write a letter explaining that it wasn’t available yet and that mum will get for him for his birthday, but hopefully this selection of alternate games will do. After reading the letter my son said, ‘Isn’t Santa magic? Can’t he just make one for me?’ So I concocted a lie explaining that while Santa and the elves make most of the presents they also purchase games and game players from the likes of Nintendo and are therefore at the mercy of release dates just like the rest of us.

This year I want to tell him the truth more than ever but I will hold out until the eldest child in my family…my nephew…is given the news. Then I will confess to my son but I will include a lengthy criticism of all parents for upholding the belief and beg for forgiveness with a promise to never lie to him again. And then I will tell him about the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny, and apologise twice more.

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

Working girl

21 Dec

I am back at work. I have accepted two weeks of demanding, challenging, daily work that is scary, rewarding and brilliant.

Yes, I miss my kids. I miss them a lot. While I am at work I think of what they are doing. I call my mum and my sister too often and ask what the kids are doing and am told they are eating, playing, sleeping, fighting…pretty much the same activities as if I were there.

I am blessed with an amazing mum and sister who are not only willing to help but are very good at it. My kids love them and I love knowing they are well-cared for. I couldn’t work if I didn’t know they were in a safe, fun and loving environment. Not many parents have the luxury of loving family members willing to help. I count my blessings every day and I make sure to be there each week when my sister works and help my dad out while my mum travels. We are there for each other and can rely on each other when needed and all six children are part of a loving network of carers.

Anyway, back to my joy at working again. I love it so much. When I get to work I am often sitting down for the first time all day. I get to make a cup of coffee and actually drink it before it goes cold. My brain works in a way it hasn’t worked for a while. I become sharper, faster, more focused and more secure in my ability to be of value to people other than my family.

Life is all about balance and for the first time I feel I almost have it right. I have a little work each week, twice a year I fill in on a daily basis, I have my writing course and I get to start every day with my children and I am home to tuck them into bed at night.

The older I get the more I realise that life is about the little things. It’s about hugs, kisses, clean sheets, good chocolate, challenging work, constant learning, family and friends. What more could I ask for?

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

We forgot our wedding anniversary!

16 Dec

At 11.23pm last night I realised my husband and I had forgotten our wedding anniversary. Three weeks and 8 years ago my husband and I tied the knot at the Park Royal Hotel in Sydney on 30 November. It wasn’t a conventional wedding and we have never been a conventional couple, but our dual ignorance of what should have been at the very least a day of remembrance has left us both a little disturbed.

When I met my husband I was a young, ambitious radio announcer still living at home with Italian parents who tried to be strict. My husband was a separated father-of-two living with his girlfriend wondering how he was going to feed his kids that week. We met at the radio station and horrified everyone by becoming friends and then dating. What we thought would be a short relationship ended up being one full of love and joint ambition. We jumped over so many hurdles and navigated so many obstacles to be together that we are still surprised we made it.

On the outside we look like any hard working, happy family. On the inside that’s exactly what we are, with the added spice of a bankruptcy, our families, our children who have food allergies and our personal unfulfilled ambitions. But we make it work as best we can and we are grateful each day to be together and to have the family we have. I wish he worked less, was more romantic and was more of a hands-on father. He wishes I was more patient about his work hours and had more faith in the fact that he plans on becoming a hands-on father as soon as his work hours allow. Sounds pretty normal, right?

8 years is an achievement for any couple, especially those like us who can say they are happy they met and happier still at the family they created. So why did we forget our anniversary?

The previous year my husband reminded me of our anniversary and the year before we both remembered. The year before that was pretty traumatic but I reminded him. We’ve never both forgotten before. We’ve been busy before. We’ve had newborns, new jobs, stresses, illnesses and other challenges but we’ve never completely forgotten and to have neither of us remember until three weeks later? It’s embarrassing.

After making the realisation while watching a taped re-run of Grey’s Anatomy I tiptoed into our bedroom and told my husband about our forgotten anniversary. He hugged me, kissed me and told me he loved me. He was snoring again before I left the room (he gets up for work at 2.30am). I was left in a state of insomnia, trying to analysis it, as women do.

Here’s my conclusion. There is an anniversary my husband and I are obsessed with and it’s not our wedding anniversary. It is the anniversary of his bankruptcy. He lost his business in the Global Financial Crisis when property values plummeted. We (he) come out of bankruptcy on 16 May, 2012 and we text each other a countdown most days. We were recently elated to discover that we had under six months left. Today we have five months and two days left. We are so excited by the next chapter, after the trauma of having to start over again, not to mention the failed business and all that comes with that. It was heartbreaking, humiliating and scary. But we survived it and are happy enough that we forgot our anniversary and aren’t exactly crying over it.

So here’s to us honey. I wish you smelled better when you got home from work (he’s a transport manager so he smells like sweat, grease and other truck related odours) and I wish I looked better and was more relaxed when you arrive home (by the time he gets home I am dishevelled and chasing after our three children). I love you and I am so happy I met you. You eat all the lollies and leave none for others and you hog all the pillows. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. Let’s try better next year.

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

 

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