Alphabet Soup

by Melissa Doyle

  I’ve also had shockers on air. Outfits that looked ok on the rack but were failures in front of a TV camera. I’ve had hairstyles I’ve regretted, breakouts I’ve tried to hide and weight fluctuations I’ve tried to camouflage.

  But then, haven’t we all?

  It’s just that mine have been a little more public. And where most of us can shove photos of those embarrassing moments to the back of the album, mine are out there for all to laugh at and comment on. Especially me.

  Social Media

  Love it or hate it, social media is here. It’s a big part of our lives and only getting bigger.

  I first joined Twitter and Facebook to keep up with the pack. I didn’t want to be left behind when everyone else was talking about them; more importantly, I didn’t want to be one of those mums who had no idea what her kids were talking about.

  Mine aren’t yet of the age to be participating in social media. Facebook for them is a few years away, thankfully, but when the time comes I’m glad I understand what they are getting themselves into, and have enough knowledge to keep an eye on their activities.

  We have all heard the horror stories about when teens are bullied online and their parents find out too late; kids who fall victim to friends who aren’t who they claim to be; and girls who post something online and live to regret it, not yet understanding that once a picture is out there it can never be taken back.

  As a parent it’s my job to know what my kids are up to online. Sure, it takes a little more effort than when my parents simply had to monitor my very long after-school phone calls, but it’s going to be a big part of their lives and I have no choice but to understand it.

  As parents we need to go online and play, go into their world and get a grasp on what they are doing and with whom they are communicating. Don’t be afraid of pressing the wrong button . . . you won’t break the machine! Learn. Many schools offer classes for parents, or you could pay your kids to teach you. All kids like having one up on their parents.

  Saying you don’t know what it’s all about is a cop-out. And don’t rely solely on cyber-safety technology. If you’re doing that, it’s probably already too late. Your kids will know way more than you and can probably find a way to keep what they are doing a secret.

  The reality is that not every kid is comfortable talking about their online activity with their parents, and not every parent is able to monitor everything their children are doing.

  Experts tell us the key to kids being safe is to teach them as much as possible about what they are doing and the implications of their actions.

  I once heard it likened to a child posting their picture, name and address on a telegraph pole in the centre of town. A child would be horrified to do such a thing. Well, tell them the internet is the equivalent.

  It’s all about education and open communication, and, if not with you, then with someone you trust such as an older sibling, cousin or friend.

  There are also plenty of really helpful sites for parents. You can check out the Australian Communication and Media Authority’s (ACMA) cybersafety site: www.cybersmart.gov.au

  Or the Alannah and Madeline Foundation: www.amf.org.au

  I also came across this great list from Telstra with some tips that I found useful, so I hope you do too.

  1. Understand the sites and technology your kids use and know who they’re talking to.

  2. Create a list of online rules with the family such as time limits and sites that are ok to visit.

  3. Educate your kids so they know not to give out personal details online without parental knowledge.

  4. Make sure your kids know what to do and where to go if they encounter cyber-bullying.

  5. Regularly sit with your kids when they are on the internet. Let them know you are interested and keen to understand their online activity.

  6. Advise your kids to take extreme caution and keep online friendships online, and to never agree to meet their online friends without parental supervision.

  7. Talk with your family about the risks of internet use, particularly in chat rooms.

  8. Reinforce positive behaviour and values such as being respectful of others.

  9. Don’t ignore new technologies—kids and teens will use them, if not at home then at friends’ houses or in the schoolyard. Ask your child to give you a lesson on sites or internet gadgets you may not be familiar with.

  10. Install software or subscribe to services that can filter content and block offensive websites.

  Source: Telstra 2012 www.exchange.telstra.com.au/2012/04/20/telstra-safe-social-service-protecting-kids-online/

  Sons

  Until his voice drops or he’s too embarrassed to be seen with me in public, I figure I still have some degree of influence over my son.

  I’ve already relinquished any control over his fashion and long ago gave up pestering him to cut his hair, wash his face or wear a singlet in winter. But I can still insist he clean his room and I can still hug and kiss him in public.

  The older he gets, the bolder the line between mothering and smothering becomes.

  I want him to grow into a strong independent man who can hold his own with the boys and not get beaten up behind the sheds at school, but also one who cares for his sister and remembers his mother’s birthday.

  I can encourage him, but must also be prepared to let him fail.

  I want him to grow into a confident and kind man. Gentle but strong, considerate but spirited and adventurous.

  The harder I try to find a balance, the more I am aware that women can send some pretty mixed messages to the grown men in their lives.

  We want you to dress nicely and get up to the baby crying in the night, but we also want you to re-hang that squeaky door and get the possums out of the roof.

  We want you to hunt the meal but also cook it occasionally, father our children but also read to them and plait their hair.

  Blame David Beckham. He set the standard for style and showed men they could combine a love for a sarong with some pretty awesome sporting prowess. His fancy footwork on the field balanced out that squeaky voice and gelled hair.

  Then along came Daniel Craig and women the world over swooned at his rugged handsomeness. Unlike Beckham, James Bond wouldn’t be caught dead with painted nails or wearing his wife’s knickers.

  So after years encouraging our men to get in touch with their feminine side, it seems they did . . . and then we changed our minds.

  Sorry, boys.

  Shed tears by all means, but wipe them away with your Chesty Bonds singlet.

  Sport

  For a good fifteen years of a parent’s life, Saturday and/or Sunday mornings are spent praying for a parking spot, lugging gear and oranges and cheering for a sport you’ll never fully understand.

  Forget weekends away—they are for parents who haven’t committed to weekend sport.

  Love it or hate it, I’m assured I will one day miss it.

  In summer, we’re a cricket family . . . that’s a good four to five hours sitting in the sun in comfy camping chairs, reading the papers, chatting to other families and standing up and paying attention when my son goes in to bowl or bat.

  In winter, it’s AFL . . . a lot faster paced, which is just as well in the freezing cold.

  There are plenty of parents who will tell you they’re not too happy with weekend sport, but I’m not one of them. I’d only be at home loading the washing machine or cleaning out the fridge. May as well sit in a comfy camp chair in the sun, drinking coffee and chatting to the mums. It’s forced relaxation!

  We even have a handy system going at cricket, given it’s such a long game. If you’re immersed in the paper or a conversation, someone will give you a heads up when your son goes in to bowl . . . enough time to jump up and cheer accordingly.

  Granted the long game can be a little trying on a younger sister, but there are usually enough spare siblings around to get some sort of off-field game going.

  We’ve actually built up s
ome wonderful friendships over the years with the parents of our kids’ team mates, and our children have made some great friends who live locally but attend other schools—all because we spend so much time together on our weekends.

  It’s also become a fun way to explore our neighbourhood. We’ve played at ovals I never even knew existed, hidden gems only a few kilometres from home. We’ve also trekked across town, and cursed losing half the day.

  Most importantly, I have quickly learnt which fields have the coffee carts . . .

  It’s such a nice way to watch my children have fun. There is nothing sweeter than when one of the boys gets a wicket and the entire team runs in to congratulate him, leaping in the air and whooping with joy. Or when someone kicks a goal in soccer and runs around the field with their shirt over their head and their fingers in the air like their Premier League heroes.

  I remember watching my then five-year-old daughter’s first soccer game. Her little team like a flock of birds sweeping from one end of the field to the other in perfect unison. She really had no idea about what she was doing but, thankfully, she wasn’t the only one. They were all hoping the ball would simply come to them and if it did they’d kick it.

  But while they have fun, I also value what they are learning about competition. Childhood is the best time in life to learn that we can’t always win.

  I sometimes worry that we have become too politically correct in our accolades. Schools give the whole class achievement awards so no one stands out; the entire team gets a trophy at the end of the season; and, in some sports, each child gets to kick a free goal at the end of the game so no one goes home feeling disappointed.

  It’s important to teach our kids to have fun, it’s important to teach them to be competitive, but we also need to teach them that they won’t always get the gold medal.

  Some of the most human moments at elite levels of sport have for me been watching our top athletes manage loss with dignity and grace. We feel their disappointment, but it’s how they handle it and the guts and leadership they show that puts them on the top of the podium in my eyes.

  We all want our kids to grow up winners. We want to give them every opportunity in life to succeed. And we need to teach them that it takes hard work and ability to get there. But even if they slug their guts out, not everyone can swim like Michael Phelps, or run like Usain Bolt.

  In the real world, there’s always the person who puts in half the work but still breezes through; a girl you grew up with might be blessed with both beauty and brains; or a colleague may be promoted ahead of you when you honestly believed the job was yours.

  I hope my children will grow into adults who always work hard and strive to achieve but can recognise and appreciate when others around them do better.

  Spotto!

  Funny how when the kids are no longer in the car I still find myself calling ‘Spotto!’ when I see a bright yellow vehicle going past. Childish, I know, but hey, that’s part of the fun.

  It’s like rediscovering the joy of a Paddle Pop running down your arm on a hot Saturday afternoon, or being mesmerised by the rhythm as you go higher on a swing in the park . . . and make the kids wait.

  Kids games are fun for a reason, so let’s continue to enjoy them when we’re all grown up!

  When was the last time you painted with the kids and let yourself get messy, or went to town with the biscuit mix and hundreds and thousands and didn’t stress over the mess? Or the last time you built a Lego tower or spent a whole day in the pool without worrying about splashing your hair and getting waterlogged?

  Having kids is the best excuse to be one yourself all over again, and have a great time doing it. Sitting on the floor and building a puzzle, kicking a ball at the oval—these are the moments I most enjoy and the ones my kids remember. I just have to resist the temptation to try and prevent the mess or pop a load of washing in the machine in the middle of a game of Monopoly.

  Of course, the chores have to be done, but a lot of the time they can wait.

  You might find you’ll have a lot of fun. After all, these games are loved for a reason. If nothing more, engaging in playtime will force you to stop once in a while, ignore the phone, and let the world pass by.

  So help dress up Barbie, bury yourself in the sand, paint with your fingers and sing along in the car.

  Just remember, sometimes you need your kids with you for validation. John once dropped Nick off at daycare and drove another 30 minutes to work before realising he was still singing along to The Wiggles, alone.

  But just as games, fairy floss and puddles can remind you how much fun being a kid is, things like thunderstorms can remind you how scary it is too. What is it about that roar in the night sky and the flash of light that suddenly makes you feel so small as you’re curled up in bed?

  Sure enough, just as you are relishing the warmth of the doona while the storm rages outside, you hear the shuffle of feet down the hallway. Next minute a little body crawls into bed beside you.

  ‘Mum, I’m scared.’

  I’m sorry my kids are scared of storms, but secretly happy they still need me.

  So like any pair of storytellers, we analyse what might be making the noise. Maybe it’s their great-grandfathers in heaven playing a wild game of bowls, or the clouds blowing in the wind and crashing off course. In the end we all decide it’s the sky’s equivalent of a certain bodily function. All bluster and noise but no substance. To a then seven-year-old boy who cracked up at a whoopee cushion, it was the perfect explanation.

  I’d better add toilet humour to my list of childish moments.

  Tears

  There is no doubt that getting up at 3 a.m. to do your job is horrid. As much as I loved working on Sunrise, for many years I missed out on breakfast with the kids, morning cuddles and making school lunches—oh, and my quota of sleep. But if there was a silver lining it’s that I never had to do the daycare drop-off or say goodbye.

  John has always been the one to manage the emotional roller coaster of the teary farewell. I only ever got the happy-to-see-you end of the day. And just as well, really. Nick cried every time he went to daycare. The tears only lasted as long as it took John to get back to his car, but this went on for six excruciating months. His teachers kept reassuring us he was happy and settling quickly, but it was still awful. John was as distressed as Nick.

  Inevitably, that gut-wrenching emotion makes you question everything you’re doing. Were we making the right decision? Should I have quit work and stayed home? Were we being horrible, uncaring parents?

  The only way John could get some peace of mind before heading to the office was by loitering in the garden and peeking back in the windows five minutes after walking out the door to see that Nick really was ok and already playing. And most of the time there was another parent doing exactly the same thing. It helps to know you aren’t the only paranoid and emotionally strung-out mum or dad wondering if your child really is managing without you.

  Talia was a different matter. She was always keen to go to daycare and even had her outfits picked out the night before. From the outset she looked forward to seeing her new friends, reading stories and making craft. I’m not sure if it’s a girl/boy thing or a first-child/ second-child thing but our experience with them differed so much. And I know how relieved John was to discover that he didn’t need to worry about Talia at drop-off.

  One afternoon when I arrived at 3 p.m. to collect Talia from preschool, instead of being overjoyed to be going home she sent me packing and told me to come back at 5.30 p.m. so she could spend some quiet time with the teachers after everyone else had gone. I was so shocked that I left, but came back an hour later and fibbed it was 5.30.

  Aside from the decision of whether or not to return to work after having a baby, putting your childcare plan into place is the hardest step. Will they cope without me? Will I cope without them? Will they love their carer more, or me any less? And how do you cope with your own tears and guilt when everyone else is focused (qu
ite rightly) on your child’s emotions? After all, you’re meant to be the grown-up here.

  Knowing they are happy and safe where they are going certainly helps. And remembering John and I were their one and only mum and dad made me feel better about leaving them with the spunky, pretty and way-more-fun-than-I’ll-ever-be teacher.

  We tried to get our family (big members and little ones) used to this new routine in advance. Before I headed back to work we did a few dry runs. John dropped Nick off at daycare while I sat at home and cried. We figured that it was best not to make our first teary farewell the same morning that I headed back into the office after my maternity leave. Running mascara isn’t the most ‘together’ look and it’s hard to convey your commitment to your employer when you can’t stop crying long enough to say hello!

  How many times can you call the daycare centre to check your child’s ok without crossing over into that crazy-mum zone? I always figured if you had to rely on a webcam in the kindy to make sure they were ok, then best you move them somewhere else. Or stay home.

  When to return to work is a difficult decision to make. It’s complicated by emotions—some rational and some not. But when you do make the decision that you feel is best for you and your family, embrace it and don’t beat yourself up. Jump in the car (with no one else to buckle in) and, if you’re heading back to work, crank up the radio, sing something other than The Wiggles at the top of your lungs and enjoy your moment of solitude. And get your husband to do drop-offs.

  Technology

  As much as I like to convince myself I’m a groovy young mum there are occasional moments that remind me I am well and truly from the generation before.

  As if using the word ‘groovy’ doesn’t already give it away . . .

  Like when our kids stumbled across a box of old cassettes and had no idea what they were! It was one thing to be reminded of my teenage love affair with Wham!, Bobby Brown and Spandau Ballet, it was quite another thing to have to explain such archaic technology as cassettes and videos.