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Coffee and morning neurosis

24 Feb

I don’t have much time to think in the morning. Getting the kids dressed and the eldest ready for school takes up most of my head space. I have time for random thoughts and worries about the day. This morning due to brain overload thanks to Australian politics my brain seemed to be running on safe mode. I got everything done but it seemed to take a little longer than usual. Particularly the seemingly easy task of making my morning coffee.

I have picked up my dad’s coffee drinking habit. We have one when we wake up, one mid-morning and our final cup mid-afternoon. We take it the same too – milk and sugar. It’s instant, but good instant. I don’t have the time or the bench space for something more elaborate.

This morning it took me an hour to make my coffee. This is normal but a little disturbing. One of the first things I do each morning is flick the kettle on. Then I usually hop in the shower and as I step out I yell out for my school-age son to jump in. I get dressed, open the door to the little kid’s room so they can start to wake up and then I boil the kettle again. Sometimes at this stage I will even go as far as to place my favourite red mug on the bench in readiness. But this morning the little kids tumbled out of their room and I was distracted by hugs and kissed.

I gave them their juice and then went to hurry my son along. I ironed his uniform and placed it on his bed. I grabbed his lunch box out of his bag to make his lunch and then I had to boil the kettle again.

I just kept forgetting to make it. I kept reboiling the kettle so the water was nice and hot. As I scrambled to make his lunch and get him dressed I stared longingly at my red mug.

I still haven’t made it. My son just left for school, the little kids are dressed and fed. I meant to make it before I sat down to write this but I forgot. Just give me a sec…

Okay, I have it now. My first coffee of the day. I use my daughter’s Dora the Explorer spoon because it measures out my coffee and sugar perfectly. I haven’t taken a sip yet. I will. It sad, isn’t it?

I just had a sip. Yum. Coffee really is my morning cuddle, aside from the numerous giggly squirmy ones the kids give me.

I’ve woken up on the right side of the bed this morning. Everything is delighting me, even my insane attempts to make coffee. My poor, over-used kettle. It’s just a little red Kambrook I picked up from Kmart. It’s coping pretty well…it has to to keep up with me, my crazy coffee, 2-minute-noodles and the many times I used boiled water to get dinner started to speed things up.

Here’s to my crappy cuppa. And here’s to yours.

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

What is your goal weight?

23 Feb

I got to my goal weight one day. And it lasted, one day.

My goal weight is 55 kilos and I as an adult I have only weighed 55 kilos for one day. I have spend the past ten years trying to get back to it but three pregnancies and a liking for cake, biscuits, Freddo Frogs, ice cream, vegemite toast, Chinese food and every other food it seems has prevented me from achieving my goal.

I’m not overweight, but every day I feel like I’m not the best I can be because of my weight. And it is so wrong!

Why do I think about my weight every day? Why am I always dieting? Is it so I can avoid living? Is it so I can stall finishing my novel and take my mind off our very low bank balance? Was I born this way? Is it because society/media/magazines brain wash me?

I am an intelligent woman. I know there is more to me and every other woman than what we weight. I remember famous words by Oprah. She once said she wants to live her life without weight being an issue. Weight has never not been an issue for her. Portia De Rossi cured herself of an eating disorder by not letting weight be an issue for her but now she is skinner than ever. When I don’t let weight be an issue and eat what I want I end up with a much bigger problem – clothes that don’t fit, discomfort and a sense of failure.

My latest theory as to why I think about my weight so much as to do with control. As women, parents, wives, mothers, workers we have such little control over our lives. We all have to take our kids to school, pay bills, follow instructions and rules. Do we really have any control over our lives and if we do, does this control lead to freedom and happiness? Is my preoccupation with my weight my attempt to forget how little control I have over my life? I can control my weight (to a degree) and what I eat (until about 6pm when I break my diet every, single night) but I can’t work any more than I am. I am always running out of money. I haven’t achieved my career goals. My house could use a de-clutter. My husband and I are due for a date night. My uni course starts in a week (what was I thinking). The only part of my life that is completely in my control is diet, exercise and appearance.

Have I made a brilliant discovery? Is this the real reason we are sometimes so caught up in our own appearances and that of women we admire? It is for me. I know I could use some therapy, right? I detest weight-loss shows. The thought of a personal trainer yelling at me and tut-tutting over what I’ve eaten terrifies me. Because if weight were no longer an issue (because I’d reached my goal weight or just given up and blown up) then what would have to occupy my time? Then I’d have to finish my book, think about my life, try and improve my marriage and deal with family issues. Because then I’d realise that it’s not my weight that’s stopping me from reaching my full potential but my own crazy head and perhaps fear of criticism or fear of discovering that you can achieve every single thing you’ve ever wanted and still not be at peace and god forbid, still not be as happy as you should be.

Is life achieving all your dreams or is life the attempt to achieve all your dreams? Do we all get to be happy or do we end up content because if we are lucky enough we discover what really matters?

I was called a perfectionist today. I am about some things. Being a perfectionist isn’t about getting everything right. It’s about never being satisfied unless everything is perfect and this is at the root of my problems. I don’t just want any life, I want the perfect life. I want perfect children, a perfect marriage, the perfect weight, the perfect job. My life is about being okay with okay. The journey continues.

As you know by now this blog has none of the answers and all of the angst. Perhaps that too is part of life or maybe my angst is the reason I can write. I always find comfort in sharing the struggles of others. You must be feeling VERY comforted by now. My gift to you.

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

 

Dummies and bad advice

19 Feb

I am so sick of ‘experts’ telling mums what they should be doing. Fair enough if it’s a matter of life and death, but “A spat over dummies” in today’s Sunday Telegraph is making me a little cross.

I gave my first child a dummy, after being advised by a midwife that it would help him attach to my breast. He was having trouble. He eventually got the hang of it and probably would have without the dummy but if felt good to give him something that would sooth him. When he was two-and-a-half I told him the dummy fairy was coming to take them for new babies and he said goodbye to them without too much trouble.

After having my first baby a lot of ‘advice’ was discussed talking about how dummies are damaging so I didn’t give one to my second son. He is now a dedicated thumb-sucker. I didn’t give one to my third child either. She too is a thumb sucker. I also blame an incident at my local Target store where I saw a five-year-old girl in a school uniform with a dummy attached to her collar, sucking away. I now realise this is very rare and shouldn’t cause the massive anxiety over dummies that it caused in me.

I am angry with myself for listening to the advice against dummies and for the ‘Target incident’ making it worse. I should have trusted my instincts. I wanted to give them dummies but felt pressured not to. I think babies with dummies are so cute. I don’t think they are damaging. They can cause restlessness at night but that was a price I was willing to pay to have children who were happy and who didn’t suck their thumbs.

Babies love being comforted by parents, teddy bears and dummies and I’m a big fan of doing whatever works for you and your baby. When ‘experts’ give advice on such things I often wonder why they can’t just say, ‘Do what feels right for you and your baby’. This is what I keep telling my sister who has just had her first. Whatever makes you happy and your baby happy and isn’t a health hazard – go for it. Stuff the mummy-guilt.

The list of ‘For’ and ‘Against’ points in the article is pretty funny because it basically makes dummy-using parents sound lazy. Do you want to keep your baby quiet, keep them asleep, stretch out time between feeds and stop thumb sucking? Then shove that dummy in. And then if you’re stupid enough to give your baby a dummy you will be punished by a child who has trouble feeding, can develop an overbite, can have speech problems and will wake all night.

I only have three children and statistically that doesn’t prove much to ‘experts’ but they say plenty to me. My first child had a dummy. He fed really well, never sucked his thumb and was a frequent feeder. He did wake up at night when he lost his dummy but I eventually let him lose it and sooth himself and he only used the dummy to go to sleep initially. My second son with no dummy was a restless sleeper at first and eventually found his thumb which at four years of age he is yet to give up. He is unnaturally attached to his teddy bear (very stinky by the way but he cries when I put it in the washing machine) and I would do anything to get him to stop sucking his thumb. My third child, my little girl, is also a dummy-less thumb sucker.

My sister did the same as me. We had children at a similar time and only gave dummies to our first. She didn’t give one to her second child, a little girl, and she developed a habit of sucking her middle fingers whilst clutching a blanket to get to sleep and her third who was also not given a dummy ended up sucking on a muslin wrap for comfort.

Every time my dad sees my kids sucking their thumbs he gently slaps their hands away from their mouths, telling them they are too big to be sucking their thumbs. Short of tying their hands behind their backs I’m not sure what to do. The thumb fairy can’t come and take their thumbs away. I’m left to hope and pray that they stop the habit before they begin school.

My experience out of the six children I have observed in our family is that they are going to suck on something so it may as well be a dummy. But somechildren are perfectly okay not sucking on anything but once again, it’s what works for you and your baby. You can use a dummy but you don’t have to use it for years. You can use nothing but be ready to stop them from sucking on something else. And you can relax. Have you ever seen a sixteen-year-old with a dummy or sucking their thumb? They will stop eventually. And you can be sure if one of these methods of soothing causes a massive, horrible overbite as we are being warned, there will be plenty of dentists willing to help for hundreds and hundreds of dollars. Win, win.

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

Lost keys!

18 Feb

I had the perfect start to my day today. I woke up early and exercised. I bathed the kids (because I was too tired to do it last night) and my eldest had a shower. We were all dressed and clean and ate a healthy breakfast together. I cleaned the house. It looked beautiful. I packed my work bag and was getting ready to drop the kids off at my sister’s house for the afternoon when I remembered that my little girl had been playing with my car keys the night before. I grabbed my handbag and tipped everything onto the floor – not there. I looked in her little bike where she had been playing – not there. I looked in her Dora backpack – not there. My vision went blurry. I knew they were lost. My morning – in mere seconds – had turned to shit.

It’s not her fault they are lost. Since we’ve had toddlers in our lives my sister and I have lost three sets of keys, her brand new mobile and other countless items like school hats and toys. Most items turn up eventually. This morning I had about fifteen minutes to search and then I had to call my sister to pick us all up so I could get to work. I am at work now writing down a list of places to look when I get home. I have previously found my keys in the pantry, the washing machine, the bin, the fridge, in the kids bags, under the lounge and once I found them next to the toilet (I like to think they never made it into the actual bowl).

My sister bought us key-tracking devices once. They attach to our keys and when we lose them we clap and they beep – keys found! These key-tracking devices were not designed for Italians. Every time I spoke or the kids played they beeped. “Dinner’s ready”…beep, “Go back to bed”…beep, “Stop kicking your brother”…beep, “Why don’t you ever help me put the kids to bed”…beep, “I’m not in the mood tonight”…beep.

My sister lasted a day with hers before she smashed it and put it in the bin. I put mine in my glove box with plans to throw it away too. It beeped at me for a month before I actually threw it away. I told the kids we had to speak quietly in the car in the morning so the alarm didn’t go off. By the time we got to school drop-off it had beeped at us several times. Quiet communication is as foreign to me as having one bite of cake and leaving the rest for later.

My sister once found my keys in a draw in her office after I’d walked home with the kids. Her phone never turned up and I looked for weeks. It must have gone into the bin or the toilet. My husband’s Gucci watch never turned up – bin or toilet. I found a set of keys once when I moved house…but I really need to find my keys today!

I don’t have a spare. The spare is long gone…a victim of my desire for five minute of peace and quiet while the kids played. And she was so cute last night. I’d taken them off her a couple of times but she kept going to my handbag. She put on my sunglasses, got my car keys, put her back pack on her back, hopped on her pink ride-on toy and said, “Bye Mum, shopping.”

If I had asked her for my keys last night she would have remembered and gotten them for me but she’s two-and-a-half so by this morning she has no idea where she left them. I tried to stay calm. I was breathing hard trying to control my anger (at myself) and I was talking to myself. My four-year-old son started saying, “Oh my God, where are they”, mimicking me. It would have been cute had I not felt so stressed. I yelled once at Caterina when asking her where they were. She started crying, my son hugged her and said, “Say sorry Mum”. When we got to my sister’s house my son told her that his room was such a mess. And that’s the other thing. Not only do I not have my keys, not only did I scare my kids with my panic, but I also have to go home to a trashed house. I emptied everything and still no keys.

I texted my husband saying, “Don’t freak out when u get home. We haven’t been robbed. I lost my keys. Still looking.”

So tonight after a six hour shift at work I get to go home, get the kids ready for bed and instead of cleaning the kitchen and collapsing in exhaustion I will be on my hands and knees all night cleaning and looking for my keys at the same time. If I find them I will CELEBRATE – by collapsing in exhaustion. If I don’t find them…perish the thought – my husband will probably find me in the morning asleep, with my face planted into the carpet, my hand still under the lounge when I’d been searching when sleep claimed me at 4am.

Who is the saint I pray to for lost items…Saint Michael or Saint Anthony? I’ll pray to both. Unless they come down and help me search, I’m not sure my prayers will actually work.

I’ll let you know when I find them, if I find them. (No! Confidence Jo!) I’ll let you know WHEN I find them, probably some place obvious and silly like in a shoe or in the fruit bowl. And when I find them I will buy a hook and hang them on the side of my fridge like my sister has been suggesting for the past three years. In positive new I did find my missing earring this morning and the spare DS charger I’ve been looking for. And 5 cents.

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

A whiter, brigher smile

16 Feb

I am sitting here with a tooth-whitening tray in my mouth and I want to hurl. I’ve wanted to whiten my teeth for the longest time. A close-up, unfortunate, recent shot of my friend and I in a helicopter inspired me to order a tooth whitening kit online and it tastes like watermelon…and dishwashing liquid.

How do people do this? I want to gag. I can’t swallow properly. The tray has to be in for another twenty minutes and every night for the next two weeks? Help.

It’s way to expensive to have this done at the dentist and he’s usually distracted by my plaque build-up and fillings to get around to suggesting I whiten my teeth. Plus it’s more convenient this way. But disgusting, and gross.

I really hope it works. I hate my teeth. Short of veneers, this is the fastest way to improve them. Apparently having whiter teeth helps you to look younger. Although I don’t want them to be visible from space. I have noticed some people choose not to whiten their teeth. They have probably seen some very white, too straight teeth as I have.

It’s a constant balancing act. We all want to look naturally beautiful. We don’t want to look like we’ve tried too hard. The no-makeup look, hair that looks like our natural colour, teeth that are white but not too white. We want to be well dressed but comfortable, wear heels that look amazing at the same time as being able to walk. We get fake nails with french polish, a tan that isn’t too orange and I don’t know about you but I avoid mirrors first thing in the morning. I could easily pass for an unkempt homeless person when I first roll out of bed (no offense to the homeless who I wish I could help – each and every one of them). But really – my hair doesn’t even look sexy and full in the morning, my skin looks rested but I really need a bit of makeup and my choice of nightwear is at best comfortable and at worst…in need of some repairs.

I have noticed that I always pay attention to people who look like they feel like they look good. Read that again slowly…I am always interested in the happy, confident people, not the overly groomed, clearly uncomfortable. It comes down to how you want the world to see you. I would much prefer to look happy and confident than groomed.

I’m not sure what point I’m trying to make. How do you wrap up issues like appearance, youth and beauty? How do you conclude anything at all when every day for the rest of our lives we’ll be trying to improve something? You know that saying ‘life is about the journey, not the destination’? Perhaps this is true when it comes to our appearance. I do love getting my hair done and I couldn’t stop staring at myself when I got my first spray tan. I looked so…healthy.

I’m having in okay day today. I wouldn’t mind washing my hair and redoing my makeup but I am so tired. I look like I have a roof over my head and that’s always a plus. And even if I did spend some unnecessary time grooming instead of playing with my kids it’s not like they care. If my husband comes home and I’ll all done up he’ll probably think I’m cheating on him. He still doesn’t understand why I get all dressed up to go shopping. Because I bump into everyone when I am shopping. It’s the most socially active day of my week!

We all look okay and if you feel like you look a little crappy than usual today, plaster on a smile, even if it is slightly yellow. You can always fix it later.

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

Needles and ice cream

15 Feb

I bought my children ice cream today. It was 9am and I bought them ice cream and one for myself. A mother with two children was walking near us when I heard her little boy spot us and ask for ice cream. The mother turned and looked at us, then turned back to her son and said, “You won’t be having ice cream this early”, with much emphasis placed on the ‘you’.

I didn’t feel guilty for a second. Not only were my children eating ice cream at 9am, I was too. I make it a rule not to feed my children anything I am not willing to eat myself. I know too many parents who eat amazingly healthy food and give their kids faster, less healthy, less expensive alternatives. I don’t believe in feeding my kids junk that I’m not willing to eat myself. So we had ice cream at 9am. We didn’t have ice cream again today. We had a healthy lunch, we brushed our teeth before bed. Was any harm done?

We don’t usually have ice cream that early in the day. I usually save their treats for after lunch. But today was special. My son turned four on Saturday so he had his immunisation shots today. Four is a difficult age for shots. They are old enough to be horrified by the event but too young to understand why it’s happening.

The nurses at my local medical centre are amazing. They get it all ready, position him facing me with our arms wrapped around each other and quickly deliver a shot in each arm. They help me comfort him and monitor us for fifteen minutes after to make sure there are no complications. They comfort me when I am incapacitated by guilt at the pain I have inflicted on my little boy, even though it is necessary pain.

Here’s how ‘ice-cream-gate’ came about. When they placed him in my arms and we hugged each other he knew something was up. He humoured me by hugging me but he felt tense in my arms. He knew something was off. While they swabbed his arm I asked him what is favourite ice cream flavour is. Chocolate. They gave him the first needle. As it went in he said, “Hey!”. I wanted to cry. He started crying so I immediately started offering him ice cream. I said, “Good boy, I love you so much, do you want sprinkles on your ice cream?”. He answered between sobs, saying, “No sprinkles”. Then they did the second one and he screamed his head off. I said, “All done, good boy, it’s okay, lets get ice cream.”

So that’s how we really ended up eating ice cream at 9am. We did get a couple of looks from other mums but I was able to quickly say, “He had his shots today.”. They immediately understood my reasoning behind the early morning treat. I would have given him five ice cream cones if he had asked. It was horrible and I’m so happy he’s pretty much done…until he’s twelve and at least then he will understand why it’s happening.

So his little band aids are still on. You know those little circle ones? They have just a little blood in the middle and I’ll take them off during his morning bath (no bath last night due to a long P & F meeting).

When my newborn nephew was given his first shot he had a little cry but he stopped pretty much immediately as soon as it was over. My son was quite shocked until his ice cream distracted him and for that I am grateful to the dairy delight. I needed a pick-me-up too and the passionfruit ice cream I chose did the job nicely, I have to say.

To each their own and you are in my thoughts if you have immunisations coming up. Hold them tight, give them a treat and don’t forget one for you. It’s not easy being a parent and it’s even harder being the one who does needle-duty.

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

Valentine’s Day is killing the romance

14 Feb

Do my husband and I have to do something for Valentine’s Day? Really? It’s the last thing we want to do today.

My husband and I are the perfect match. Romantic dinners make us laugh, we don’t stare into each other’s eyes unless it’s a staring contest, candles are for blackouts and the best gifts we buy each other are work related because we both hate wearing jewelry.

So Valentine’s Day places undue pressure on us both. Is it okay that we text each other instead of call each other on Valentine’s Day? There’s nothing romantic about a phone call with kids screaming in the background on my end or truck drivers yelling for paperwork in the background on his end. When he gets home we are both so exhausted that if one of us announced a dinner reservation for that night tears would be involved, and not from our children.

When we were dating we tried to participate our society’s guidelines about such things. We attempted to pay extra attention to each other on birthdays and on Valentine’s Day, we gazed into each others eyes until one of us broke of to use the toilet or answer the phone (thank God someone rang). Romance to us involves movies, sour strawberry licorice and Sara Lee Honeycomb ice-cream in our lounge room with all the kids fast asleep. It’s when we are at our happiest and most relaxed. Our spoons clink against each other in the ice-cream container, we reach for the same piece of licorice and we watch a movie from start to finish with minimal interruption.

Valentine’s Day isn’t for everyone. Some couple’s love it. We don’t.

Today I will be asked several times what my husband and I are doing for Valentine’s Day. Last year I had fun saying ‘nothing’ because they didn’t quite know where to go from there. They probably assumed we were having marital difficulties and it was too difficult to explain our feelings regarding Valentine’s Day twenty times in two hours.

To be honest, if my husband came home and announced grand plans with everything organised and handed me a box with a new dress in it and presented me with jewelry AND took me out for an amazing night I’d be waiting for the bad news all evening because an evening like this is just not us. I’d be suspicious. It would suck. What does that say about our relationship? After eight years of marriage you learn not to do too many magazine surveys or look to hard at things. We love coming home to each other. We love our family. We are excited for our future. Isn’t that enough?

Today I’ve decided to say…’watching a movie’ because technically we will be, ‘while eating a romantic dinner’ because the spaghetti will be eaten so we can pad our stomach’s for our movie snacks. My answer will be met with an approving smile. And then I suppose I have to ask what they are doing (do I?) and listen to their more elaborate plans that began being booked/purchased months before because effort, planning and money spent is an accurate measure of how much love there is in a relationship?!?

Happy Valentine’s Day anyway. To me life is about choice and Valentine’s Day is no different. Do what you consider romantic, even if it’s nothing at all.

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

 

Hush little baby

11 Feb

I have two sisters, both older. My oldest sister and I have three children each. My other older sister just had her first.

He’s very cute. He was sucking his hand, already hungry. He did that newborn quivery cry when the nurse gave him is first needle. His nappy is so incredibly small. I can’t wait to hug him and kiss him…and hand him back to his mother and send them on their way.

Becoming a mother is such an abrupt shift in your universe. As I looked at my new nephew I just kept thinking…”Thank goodness my kids aren’t babies anymore.” It was such a blur of feeding, pain, bleeding, discharge, vomiting, urinating, eating biscuits and watching my coffee go cold because it was just out of reach of the chair I chose to breast feed in. I am very happy for my sister though. She has always wanted this and I love watching her become a mother and I am happy to give her advice and help. It’s so fun getting to play with a baby and hand them back. My kids actually sleep now. My kids tell me when they are hungry and thirsty. I don’t have to guess, consult books, ring the hospital or midwife for urgent advice…I know what I am doing, they know how I roll and we are a well-oiled, busy, chaotic machine.

My youngest is turning three this year and she is an advanced little Miss. She thinks she’s much older than she actually is and she is quite bossy when it comes to her brothers. Love for her is us pandering to her every whim. And because she’s cute she gets her own way eighty percent of the time. My moody four-year-old even indulges her. She is the only one he will hug on a whim. When I speak harshly to her he says, “Say sorry Mum”.

My oldest, Philip, turns eight this year and while I love them all equally (I actually do) I enjoy his company the most. We have the most interesting conversations and I love listening to him try and figure out his world. He’s an solemn little man and he tends to think disturbing thoughts about people and the world. I comfort him as best I can at the same time as trying to be honest with him which can get quite tricky. For example, while brushing our teeth one night he said, “Mum, I’m going to be so sad when you die.” I was the same when I was his age. I was obsessed with death and so worried about my parents. I told him I most likely wouldn’t die for a long time and even if I did he has lots of family who love him and I would still be watching and sending him rainbows as often as I could. Noticing the freaked-out look on his face I pointed out that I was thirty-six and both my parents. He seemed happy, then he started talking about how sad he would be when his Nonno (my father) died seeing as he is the oldest in our family and the most likely to go.

Life is a journey and being a parent is definitely the most rewarding part. When my sister’s fiance came out to see us after his son was born this morning he had clearly been crying. His eyes were red and watery and I understood the expression ‘grinning from ear to ear’.

I’m so happy for them and their little family. I’m so happy to have another nephew. I’m so happy my kids are older now and they survived their first year with me figuring it all out as I went along.

And I have the perfect gift in mind to bring her during her stay in hospital, items no-one thought to bring me but would have been invaluable…nipple cream and chocolate.

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

Is bribery a parenting tool?

8 Feb

I have a confession (another one). I have promised to buy my eldest son a Playstation if he gets an A in his report card at the end of the year. If he gets a B, he’ll get a PSP.

I know it’s not ideal but in all honesty, bribery has been a useful and effective parenting tool since he was two years of age and I’ve used it on all three of my children. I also use the reverse parenting tool of threatening them if they don’t do as they are told. Bribery and threats…I won’t be writing a parenting book any time soon will I?

It’s just that I want him to try harder at school and as yet I haven’t been able to get a result out of him. I know he can do better…we do his homework together, talk about how important school is and as yet he’s just coasted along talking about how school is boring and he doesn’t like sitting around all the time. In Kindergarten his work was rushed and in Year 1 he struggled to finish his work. He’s one of those kids who’s easily distracted by others. We’ve discussed strategies to politely ask friends to wait until he has finished his work before talking to him but he’s too reserved to do this. He’s also been too shy to ask the teacher for help with things he doesn’t understand and hardly ever tries to answer questions.

Initially after presenting him with my proposal (and I am using the word ‘proposal’ loosely) he was very excited. Thankfully after a week of seeking assurances that I would actually come through with the aforementioned bribes if he got the results he hasn’t mentioned them again.

I also swore him to secrecy. The last thing I want is for him to tell his friends and have them go home and demand the same from their parents. That will make the next P&F meeting a little awkward. I already get stink eye because I’m very involved in the school. Being outed as a parent-by-bribery would make it even worse.

Each day on the way to school I remind him to try to ask at least one question every day and to try and answer one question every day. He was upset after the first day because he wasn’t chosen to answer but I told him that having his hand up was enough. Sure enough at the end of the first week of school he had received a stamp for his table for his efforts. This is the point at which he stopped mentioning my bribes. He was so happy to have been acknowledged and rewarded for his efforts at school that he has kept up his participation ever since.

Actually, I’ve just had a ‘light bulb moment’ – thanks Oprah. I’m not bribing him…I’m rewarding him. At school they are rewarded with stamps, stickers, points and special treatment. So is what I’m doing so bad?

We won’t know how effective my method has been until his final report card at the end of the year and just between you and I, I was planning to get him a Playstation and PSP for his next birthday and Christmas anyway. I just thought I may as well get a little extra effort out of him while I was at it.

Should you do as I have done? I can’t say. All I can say is that I’m aware of the pitfalls…he could start demanding similar rewards for any and all good behaviour. I swear I won’t do it again or I will present it to him differently. I don’t want to have to buy him a car for getting into uni!

My little boy is excited by school this year and I can’t tell you how happy I am that he is finally showing some enthusiasm. Now, I’ll start saving for the ‘rewards’ and hope I haven’t ruined him forever.

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

Cheeky little liars!

4 Feb

My son isn’t a clever liar. I’m happy he isn’t good at it. He gets caught out most of the time because he either forgets he lied and accidentally tells me the truth or he can’t control a smirk from spreading across his face.

One of my sister’s kids lied to her for the first time this week. I was there when it happened. Her face was a picture of heartbreak. She came out to me and said “He lied to me for the first time!” My first thought was…what took him so long? He lied about brushing his teeth and she busted him. Lying about brushing your teeth is part of being a child but dentists as so massively and insanely expensive that my sister and I are willing to crash tackle our children and force-brush their teeth to save having to go to the dentist too often.

My son is a good boy as often as he can manage and his lies have been little white lies up until now. We were in the car talking about school and we were laughing about something when he said…”Remember that time I lied about being sick because I didn’t want to go to school?” What?!?

I kept a calm expression on my face after this clunker was dropped. A sharper child would have noticed my eye twitching manically. I waited a few beats before asking him if he realised what he’d just said. He realised all right and I started to laugh. “Philip, you’ll have to be bleeding for me not to send you to school now.” And here a great lesson is learned by him….don’t lie about being sick or mum won’t believe me anymore.

Where do kids learn to lie? Is it our fault? Do they sense we are lying to them about the Easter Bunny and Santa? Their dog didn’t go to a farm, Jesus may not be always watching to make sure they are nice to their brothers and sisters, I do have enough money to buy a new Wii game but I just don’t want too, watching too much TV won’t make your eyes go square…

When my children lie or misbehave I tend to come down on them like a ton of bricks because I want to prevent this behaviour. But I’m also forgiving of accidents like spilling drinks, breaking plates and losing toys. I like to think I am discerning when it comes to discipline. I want them to be happy kids but I have to draw the line at lying, violence and excessive carelessness.

I think about my kids being grown. I feel like every little thing I do and say is shaping the adult they will become and I hope I am doing a good enough job so they can be happy and have fulfilling lives.

All kids lie but not all are found out. I am comforted to know that we usually discover the lies…I’m sure there are several we never picked up on but as they become better at it we will become better at detecting them. Let the battle begin!

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

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