Archive | June, 2013

Sometimes it’s okay to do not much at all

9 Jun

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It’s 10 am and I’ve just gotten out of bed. I’ve recently trained my kids to let me have a sleep in some Sundays (this is the second time in a year I’ve done it). By sleep in I mean I lie down and snooze while they run in and out asking for things. This morning from the comfort of my bed I handed my iPhone to my son, yelled out ‘yes’ when my other son yelled out asking if he could use my laptop and I even opened a jar of pitted black olives for my daughter – without spilling a drop – before slumping back and cuddling my pillow for a few more precious minutes.

I’m up now. On my way from my bedroom to the kitchen (COFFEE!) I changed all the kids into their day clothes, picked up endless pieces of paper and straightened up, threw toys in the toy box, fed the cat and put on a load of laundry.

It’s the long weekend and we have no plans. I felt like I should organise an outing but we’ve been so busy lately and for the next two months we have an important events pretty much every weekend, even two, and then we segue straight into the school holidays during which my sister and I juggle and juggle hard to get to work, fighting over my mum’s baby sitting services and trying not to go insane when at home with all six of our children and a few extras.

I love life when I’m busy but I also love doing not much at all. When my kids asked me what we were doing this weekend I said, ‘Hanging out’ and now they repeat this constantly. It’s super cute.

Of course fellow mums know that when I say we’re not doing much at all it just means we have no formal events to attend or planned outings. Staying home means catching up on work, housework, paperwork, cleaning, tidying, sorting out my clothes, unpacking the boxes left over from our move two months ago, ducking off to the shops when we run out of dish washing liquid and toilet paper. A bathroom incident during which brushing teeth led to a water fight (STOP IT!) left all the toilet paper soaked. There wasn’t even one roll spared. Why did I fork out for the expensive butt-cushioning toilet paper this week? Back to generic, then fight away children.

I’ve always been a bit of a homebody and I find weekends like this reset meĀ  and prepare me for the flurry of engagements, of doing my hair and make up, figuring out what to wear and making sure the kids are presentable.

In preparation for our hectic schedule I’m also making spaghetti sauce to freeze for quick dinners, eating really healthily and exercising because there’s going to be some delicious food ahead like wedges at my daughter’s birthday at Italian cakes at another function. Self control I do not possess.

Enjoy your long weekend and I hope it’s as busy as you want it to be or as relaxing as mine…

La Dolce Vita

Jo Abi

My son is upset that he’s short

5 Jun

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This is my son Philip. He’s 9 and perfect and funny and SHORT.

“Mum, I’m the shortest in my class, the shortest in my soccer team and the shortest out of all my friends,” he regularly tells me. When he says this it brings back painful memories of school (doesn’t everything!). I was called ‘shrimp’ more than I was called Jo during both primary and high school. Even now as a fully grown adult I’m only 5’3”. But so what? I’m not a model or a basketball player and to be honest, if I’m reaching for something high up I’m a chair away from being able to get it. So what if I’m short. So what?

Except kids hate being different from their friends. They just want to be the same. Same, same, same. It makes them feel comfortable and it makes them feel secure. What they don’t realise is that it’s their experiences of being different that make them into strong, determined, amazing, unique people. Being different isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

It’s just that Philip feels different enough already. He has food allergies and has to wear a yellow hat at school. All his friends are allergy-free and wear blue hats. He also has silver caps on his top, side teeth. His friends ask what they are. He feels embarrassed when they do.

I gave him the “it’s okay to be different” speech again tonight and he listened but I’m not sure I helped. I even used a sports analogy.

We were watching Origin I (GO BLUES!) and I said that it doesn’t matter if he’s short, especially in soccer. I reminded him that Peter Sterling is still one of the best players to have ever played for the Eels and he’s as tall as me! Philip is fast, he’s fit and he’s an excellent player. Being short hasn’t stopped him from doing anything he wants to do (except reach the chocolate in the high cupboard after I’ve put it there so he can’t have anymore of it).

I then told him that if he eats more fruit, veg and all his dinner he’ll grow big and strong.

I then tucked him into bed and told him he was perfect just the way he was and not to bother getting upset about things he couldn’t change. Whats the point? I tell this to myself quite often too!

La Dolce Vita,

Jo Abi

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