Bloody Football


Every kid who has ever been injured in any game of junior football I have ever watched has brought tears to my eyes. I knew it would eventually be one of mine and the Universal Mother in me grieved.

Then it happened – just two weeks before the grand final – and he is now 12 weeks out of action.

Love you Dan. X

Taking Things Into Your Own Hands

I remember how funny it was, when my boys were still at kindergarten, to see the occasional little girl with an odd asymmetrical haircut. One day they would be adorable, neat, clean, symmetrical miniatures of their mums, but with lace-frilled ankle socks and wispy piggy tails, and the next day they would turn up to kindy, equally well dressed but with monster hair – ragged and choppy. Of course the little version had played hairdressers and now the horrified mum needed to explain the cute travesty to anyone who would listen.

Fast forward 10 years – they say boys develop more slowly than girls – and my 14 year old decides to cut his own hair.

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Okay, so that’s not actually him. There was some other overly confident teen in this world who went down the same pathway in life. Truth was, when I first saw my own son’s hair, I went into shock and just had to fix things up!

Just now I went on a Google search and found a whole lot of little folk who took the scissors into their own hands.

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The Principal’s Award

IMG_0269Raising teenage boys is an odyssey characterised by eruptions of grumpy old-man-likeness, managing and attempting to budge lumps of human mass, struck immobile by extreme inertia, and unexpected, fresh, humourous reflections on life. Boys are dopey, tender and fun. And, thank God, they are wired to adore and protect their mums.

Demitri (pictured above with black eye) is strangely hard working and extremely lazy. I have watched him through the drive through window at his workplace and he is a gun! Yet I’ve tried to get him out of bed many times to get ready for school and it is bloody hard work. And homework? What is….? So, when he came home from school and announced he had won a Principal’s award we went through that whole process. You know? We looked long and hard into each other’s eyes while we tried to make sense of this news. I guess you’d call it the shock phase. Then the funny side of the situation struck us both and we doubled over with mirth, both believing some bizarre mistake had occured. Honestly? After that I put the whole episode behind me.

One day Demitri came home with a certificate.

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Yep. We still both think it is very funny.

Love that kid.

So Judge Me #6 – My Son Did Work Experience At Gatehouse!

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My oldest son was totally unprepared for his upcoming weeks of compulsory work experience. We had hooked up one week with a mechanic at Toyota, but he hadn’t shown a whole lot of gumption in arranging his second week of experience. So I suggested he spend the second week with me at Gatehouse. He flatly refused at first. But then, as the idea began to take form, and the empty week began to loom, he agreed.

He couldn’t eat breakfast on his first day. He was dreadfully nervous. And I guess I should have been a little more understanding as it is not a typical day for a school kid, to be hanging out in the heart of Melbourne’s Red Light district, with a bunch of women who work, and sometimes even sleep rough, there. However, I reminded my son that he has always visited prisons and helped support ex-offenders in the community, and that our women are pretty much the same, many of them having been prisoners in the past.

I had to run my son through our volunteer training program, and this is when I realised the unique opportunity which had presented itself to instill and reinforce in my son a respect for all women – a rare opportunity in this day of on-line pornography, continuing objectification of women, and extreme violence towards women which exists in our entrenched paternalistic society.

And then I took him across the road to the drop in centre. It was cosy on that cold June day. Food on the tables. Big inviting couches and smiling faces. Babies. Laughter. I saw my son begin to relate and relax. Gatehouse was working its unique magic on him.

He had a wonderful week. He encountered many people who warmly welcomed him. But, best of all, was the feedback I received from my son and from the clients. On his last day, as we walked away to our car, he said, “There really are so many good people in the world, aren’t there, mum?” Then yesterday, one of our women approached me and said, “You have done such a great job with your son. He was so polite and respectful. I wouldn’t expect that from a teen-aged boy. And…” she added with a cheeky smile, “…he’s very good looking.”

 

Its My Birthday… I Feel Fine. I Feel Fine.

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I’m 45 years old today and it is true! I feel fine about it. I am probably fitter than I have ever been before in my life and, although I sometimes fear death it really does still seem (if I’m lucky) a longish way off. I love my job. All week has been kisses and hugs and positive conversations with a bunch of awesome women. I have two gorgeous kids:

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I have a naughty and irreverent house mate who keeps me laughing, a supportive family and cohort of terrific friends,

and “The cutest cat in the world” (Demitri, 2014).

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Thanks for all your blessings and good wishes. X