What is with this latest trend of teenage supermarket checkout guys and 'chics' asking "What have you been up to today?".. or "What are your plans for the weekend?"

As if they are going to be interested in what a 45 yr old SAHM of three is going to be doing anyway!

It seems to happen particularly with one of our local supermarkets, and I don't know if they have been specifically directed in their training to 'engage the customer', and whether, if this is the case, they have totally misinterpreted these directions.

Whatever! I just wish they'd stop. "Have a good day" will do. "How's your day been?" Borderline. At least it can be answered with a short "good thanks". But the open-ended query? Good for engaging little kids in conversation. Not suitable for 'pleasantries' involving frazzled mothers who are pretty much over supermarket shopping by their mid-forties, and just want to get out of there. How do I answer that anyway? Where do I start? Where do I end? What on earth is it that I might do that a teenager might possibly be interested in? How do I summarise it in a one-liner, other than with a belligerent-sounding "Not much"? If I said I'd been 'blogging', or that I was going to go on a 90km bike ride, what then? What would they say?

So this morning the guy asks "What are your plans for Easter?".

I hesitated, then shrugged and said.. "Well, actually, we're cleaning the house." (Thinking, well that'll shut him up.) No! He then says "What, no Easter celebrations?".

I couldn't think of anything to say to that (because no, no Easter celebrations, because, actually, I couldn't give a flying you know what about Easter celebrations*). And so I just gave him a withering 'Whatever' look, and another shrug, which seemed to do the trick of shutting him up.

Just scan the damn groceries, take my money and be done with it. If something comes up, sure, have a chat. Say "how are you?" if you feel the need as you start scanning my stuff. Then 'have a good day' at the end if you must, but just move it right along. I'm more interested in whether you can pack my groceries keeping the cold stuff together, the fruit and veg together, the cleaning products together, and without squashing anything.

* Segue:

Yes, Easter. A big fat WHATEVER. Which may offend some viewers, but sorry, it's the way I am. Easter? It's a religious event on the Christian calendar (after many centuries of disagreements, negotiations and calendar calculations between various Christian churches I gather...) If so, why am I spending money on overpriced chocolate in the shape of eggs or rabbits? Oh! It's tied up with a spring pagan festival celebrating birth.. or something like that? (But.. it's autumn here!) Therefore we buy... chocolate eggs and rabbits? Okaaaay. So really, it's all about Commercialisation then?

It's just... I don't worship at the alter of either religion. And you know what? The societal peer pressure to participate in the secular commercialisation aspect is much stronger than any obligation I feel to participate religious-ly.

Perhaps I should find the strength within to avoid the latter as easily I do the church.

I stood in the supermarket, surveying the overpackaged, and overpriced chocolate, knowing that if the Easter Bunny didn't come, or brought normal chocolate instead of Eggs and Bunnies, I'd be the Party Pooper Mum of the Century.

It suddenly struck me who the real bunny was.

***********

The only consolation is that "our" Easter Bunny can always be relied upon to leave Cadbury chocolate. Yesterday afternoon the girls opened their annual Easter parcel from Grandma. It included more bloody soft toys. (Yep, thanks for that Grandma - the kids just don't have enough bloody soft toys, and yes, they have plenty of room for more soft toys.) Fluffy rabbits that were exactly the same as the ones they received from her last year or the year before (down to the same colour for each kid!) Only slightly smaller. I'm not sure whether the significance of that is that this year's fluffy bunny is the baby (or younger sibling?) of the previous one, or whether, like most things these days, you just get less rabbit for your buck. Like how Mars Bars are getting smaller and smaller in inverse proportion to the increase in price.

So, anyway, each rabbit had a small gauze bag of eggs around their necks, and came with a few more chocolate eggs - all wrapped up in cellophane. Grandma had also thoughtfully included a bag of eggs for "Mum and Dad" which the girls immediately raided. "Because yours is Cadbury!"

I'd be 'paid back' after the Easter Bunny comes, apparently, because it's a given that She (The Easter Bunny? Of course She's a She) will bring Cadbury.

Labels: grumpy

Leave me to my "natural" sleeping devices, and I revert to the teenage-esque habit of staying up till after midnight, and then sleeping in till late morning. Despite being a night owl, my body loves a good 9 hours (or more!) sleep and will take every second of it given half a chance. Carry on doing this for more then a few days, and getting back to a more sensible bed time of, say, 10pm - or even 11pm - gets harder and harder. Because? Not tired enough because I've only been awake for 11 hours and I haven't done anything to make myself tired!

Factor in my usual night time Second Wind phenomenon; the Australian Open (where they are usually still playing after midnight - and I have a sports mad husband who has the tv on watching it and I get sucked in.) And the disappointing weather, which hasn't been conducive to getting out and burning up some energy.. and here I am in a bad, bad body clock cycle/circadian rhythm (or whatever it's called.)

I know, I know. I can hear the choruses of "I should be so lucky" .. to have holiday time to use and abuse like that. Problem is, it's not all it's cracked up to be - if you are as stupid about it as me.

I could probably handle it if my resumption to normal transmission was done sensibly. Like for a school day.

But naturally I have to do it In Style. By getting up at 5 am. After going to bed at nearly midnight. (Tennis was to blame of course - had to see an Aussie gal knock off a seed last night, though thankfully she did it by 11pm.)

Then a downpour of rain woke me at 4 am, and I don't feel like I slept much after that.

Then (grumpily) up at 5. Well.. alarm at 5, and dragging an unwilling body and mind out of bed and into bike gear. Drive into town. 30km ride. Self inflicted I know, but I would have been annoyed with myself if I'd piked it because I would have missed the exercise and the social contact.

So the rest of today I've been good for nothing. Totally pathetic. Too overwhelmingly weary to do anything much bar struggle through the supermarket to pick up some stuff for dinner and some other things; half-heartedly sweep the floor of the shed, and then drag my sorry self upstairs for a Nana Nap. I'd tried coffee, food, and chocolate to no avail. Throw in the red menace, and on top of it I'm inexplicably teary [I thought being over-emotional was supposed to be "Pre" not "During" ??] I've never been good at power naps (usually taking another couple of hours to wake up) so even though I did sleep, and felt vaguely better afterwards, it was no miracle cure.

Marc meanwhile has been industrious and putting me to shame, with his work tools out putting hinges on a new door he bought for the shed. He asked me to paint it, and even after my snooze, I struggled to feel enthusiastic about it. It didn't help that only the other day he was talking about the possibility of knocking the shed down! I also painted and stained so many things over quite a few years when we owner-built a house, and, unlike him, I have totally lost all enthusiasm for such household projects. It's not so much the painting (which I suppose can be quite soothing) but the preparation and cleaning up... .and... ok.. just the painting. I don't know why I feel that way...

He got it ready - I started painting, and when Alison offered to help, I happily handed over the brush and disappeared. (Seems she intended to "help", not do it herself, but there you go. It's good to have slaves...)

Now I'm coming off a post-dinner second wind, so I should seize the .. night... and put myself to bed, and hope that I am less tired, and in a better frame of mind about myself, the world, and everything tomorrow.

Labels: daily, grumpy

Today has been frustrating, so I am just hoping things will improve as we travel forth into this new year. Sore back. Sore behind the left knee. Right ankle jabbing every now and then. Sure it could be way way worse, but it all serves to keep me away from my happy place. If this is the future -ie. my body systematically malfunctioning - why not put me on the scrap heap now.

Also. For some reason last night I got it into my head to upload a vaguely amusing mpeg that the girls took on the digital camera. (read: pretty ordinary quality.) Blogger now has a video uploading capacity, right? Bzzzt. It got stuck half way through uploading last night.. and again this morning.

I know! YouTube! Bzzzt. It got stuck half way through uploading. Three times.

Vimeo? It uploaded. You beaut! Then it was 'converting'.. At one point I got a friendly message about the delay in the converting process. Now I don't get that message - I get nothing. I don't know if it's a dodgy broadband connection at my end or what.
[A few hours later I get an 'almost' done message! ie. it's finished converting and will be ready to watch "soon".]

It hasn't been beach weather since we got home on the 29th. While fortunately we haven't been melting like our compatriots in other parts of the country, it has been windy and even a bit squally, and the ocean way too rough. So our grand plans for spending this 'interim' period at home doing the beach thing has backfired.

And we are now leaving earlier for our trip down south so as to spend another two nights with Marc's mum (and to give my S-I-L and her a break from each other.. the knee op recovery has been more slower and more frustrating and more painful than either anticipated.) My idea.. but it doesn't actually make me happy.

Then on Saturday it will be onto my family, which is probably the major reason I am tense. Hyper-tense. I would rather not have to go, frankly. Between now and leaving on Thursday I have to decide what to give my nephews 'for christmas' after my suggestion to my sister that we do something different to presents this year (like have the boys come and stay here - for a beach holiday - so the cousins can spend time with each other..) went down like the proverbial truckload of bricks. Seems she thinks the cousins 'get a buzz' out of giving each other gifts, even though each year it's only the aunties who rack their brains over what to get (and one auntie tends to "suggest" what I should get, and even "offer" to "pick it up" for me if I think I can't get 'it' .) From the 8th December to the 18th she'd had no time to consider my emailed suggestion other than to say she was too busy and too stressed in the christmas lead-up... and when I said don't worry, just thought my idea would take the stress off both of us re shopping, she suggested vouchers or cash.

Anyone care to pick the flaw in the argument here? ie. just how do the cousins get a buzz out of exchanging envelopes with a voucher or cash that they have had no input into buying?

And when we get to my family, my mother and sister will most likely give me boxes of chocolates that I don't even like! And I don't have a bloody clue what token 'gesture' to get them.

My mother rang today, and the subject of photoshopping came up, so I told her that our 'christmas photo' this year had actually been photoshopped by Cait. "Oh right', she said. "Well, I had said to Dad that it wasn't as good as their usual one."

I bit my tongue and didn't say "Get.. somethinged" like I felt like saying.

Tomorrow I have some last minute shopping to do - including second hand wetsuits for Alison and me, so we can go canyoning next week. Just like me to leave it to the last possible day. (In my defence, prior to christmas I thought I had till Friday for extra shopping.) My big problem is I am just not in the headspace for packing for 3 different 'stays'.. including making sure we have all we need to go canyoning...

Hopefully tomorrow I will be in a better mood! But somehow I doubt it. Maybe ask me how I am after this weekend, once we are in the Blue Mountains, and the family visit is over and done with. (And my back, knee and ankle miraculously stop hurting!!)

**********
10.45pm. And YouTube comes through. Oh yeah.

Labels: grumpy

Should have been music to my ears. Only problem was the medical advice came with "you really need to be lying down flat as much as possible.. avoid sitting... is Marc home? No..* Well when he gets home he needs to do stuff for you."

Yeah, right.

Stupid back. Stupid whatever I did to cause the inflammation between the discs in my spine, or whatever...

And if lying down was so beneficial, I shouldn't wake up with my back hurting, should I?

However I have done my best to lie on the lounge as much as possible, and am already going stir crazy with it.

It's pretty hard to sit and eat dinner - or to drink anything - whilst not sitting.
It's pretty hard not to do stuff, even when you're the world's worst housekeeper.

I shouldn't even be sitting here typing this.

Better go. To bed. To lie down. Some more. For no perceivable improvement.


* His work trip was extended by two days.. he's home tomorrow, but he tells me his back is sore from being thrown around on very bumpy boat ride (zodiac type I gather) across the ocean.. skipping waves, bump, bump, bump kind of thing. Terrific. We have shocking timing when it comes to this sort of stuff...

Labels: grumpy

Apart from George Bush and his cronies, and their immoral and illegal war, and many more issues I have with the related US politics and religious fundamentalism and evangelism and creationism ... I am not actually anti-Yank. Pinky promise. I am capable of separating organisations, media and government from the individual. Ok, I may have been heard to utter the 'only in America' line once or twice. But actually, my recent foray into blog reading has been really refreshing as I 'get to know' individual Americans. Many of whom are way cool, and also intelligent and funny and clever, and hey! we have stuff like our parenting ups and downs in common too! Also America is tandem-central as far as bike parts, and the actual tandems themselves, so the country certainly ain't all bad!

I do resist the Americanisation of our language and idiom (and especially spelling). I can't help it, I'm guess I'm a bit old school Aussie, and I fiercely defend the Aussie character that, like it or not, grew out of British colonisation. I have tended to avoid the saturation of American tv in my life partly because I have always avoided watching the commercial tv stations. They tend to broadcast a far greater percentage of American television than the ABC (Australian Broadcasting Commission) and I have grown up feasting on great British comedy and drama programmes. Rightly or wrongly my preference is thus for British shows.... I prefer the sense of humour, and there tends to be something special about British actors. I confess that more recently I've picked up on a few more American shows that I do enjoy. (Just a shame they are mostly shown on commercial telly, so I have to put up with the frigging ads.) Of course we also grew up with some of the great made in the US classics. (I've already mentioned my husband's addiction to Get Smart.)

Frankly, though, there are a lot more crappy American shows than British shows that make it on to our screens, so it tends to skew my perception somewhat. But anyway, you can't blame Americans for selling whatever shows they make to anyone who will buy them. Our bad that we do so indiscriminately!

What really does insult my sensibilities though is the American penchant for remaking English speaking shows. Particularly all these classic British shows! And there are many. What the? And WHY?

I first became aware of this back in my childhood when I realised that the classic British comedy Stepford and Son was remade as Sanford and Son, and Man about the House became Three's Company. And I was highly irritated by it back then. On principle really. I couldn't understand the need for it. If I, in Australia, could enjoy (and understand) a particular British show, how come the Yanks couldn't? It's not like it was in a foreign language!

I am currently on my high horse about it, however, because the American remake of The Office is now being promoted on Australian TV. (If the kids didn't manipulate me and switch stations, I'd still be in my blissful ABC/BBC commercial free ignorance.) But therein lies my real objection. If Americans are so incapable of 'getting' British humour and culture, then, whatever. Their loss, really, if 'they' want to be so insular, though truly it is not a good 'look' on the world stage. [Note: this is not a personal attack on individual Americans, because I know they have as much influence about what gets shown on TV there as I have here! ] But when this recycled Americanised version is then peddled to Australia, and the bloody TV networks buy it and show it, when we have already seen the original, and stupid (Australian) people watch it, then, yes, it does piss me right off!!

As I checked out the list on that wikipedia article, I became more and more incensed. There were even more than I realised! All these classic British shows - being remade. Americanised. Americanized. Thank heavens, as it turns out, not many have actually been shown here, but it is still total, total blasphemy! In no particular order, these are just a few of the classics I've watched over my lifetime, and I can't believe that they have been remade in America. (with varying levels of success it seems.)

Coupling. Red Dwarf. This Life. Fawlty Towers! (Are you kidding me?!) The IT Crowd. The Vicar of Dibley. Porridge. George and Mildred. Love Thy Neighbour. Dad's Army. Cracker. Life on Mars!

(I haven't linked them here, but they are linked on that Wikipedia page.)

Don't get me wrong. I do understand the need to localise game shows, reality shows, and comedy formats that rely on local topical subject matter. (If I never saw another reality show in my life it wouldn't be too soon, but that's another subject altogether.) But it's the essence of dramas and comedies - where they are set - the characters - that are what works for them. Transfer them across to another culture and they surely lose the quality that makes the show what it was in the first place. Imagine doing a British remake of, say, Get Smart? Gilligan's Island? More recent stuff like X-Files?

I was relieved to see that this trend.. habit.. is at least noted and criticised within America. Well, I found one article on page one of my Google search. But seriously, America! Is it little wonder that the rest of the world thinks "America" is too self-centred when they remake shows that are in the same language?!!

As for Australian shows (like Kath and Kim) being remade - well.. it irks as well, but sadly it is more expected. Other than Crocodile Dundee, and that guy who said Crikey a lot and wrestled crocodiles (what is it about crocodiles?) it seems that Americans are not very good at understanding the Aussie accent, never mind Aussie humour. (It's nice to see that now Aussies can actually be cast in American shows as Australians - eg. whatshisname in House - that's good, that's improvement!) It would be nice to think that they could expand their horizons to bring an Aussie sitcom, totally as is, into their homes, and through watching, begin to gain a greater understanding of that country and its people, because it is through comedy, and through a people's ability to send themselves up, that you can sometimes gain a truer insight than any other way!

Why it is apparently possible for us to already do so in reverse I am not really sure.

Labels: grumpy

Hmm, not that sort of mood, though perhaps I should find more catalysts to put me in that sort of mood. I am talking (whingeing, whining) about things that put you in a GRUMPY mood.

I can be humming along ok, then suddenly one small thing has happened.. and I realise that an hour later I am still frowning. And stomping around a bit. And it's usually some trivial thing that is so not worth the angst I give myself.

Like what?
Well.

Like..

The other night I saw a(nother) photo of me that I hated. Do I actually look that horrible in profile? And look at that stomach! I swear I don't look like that when I look in the mirror.. yet captured on film digitally - blech. I realised a bit later I was stomping around in a mood.

Everything the kids don't do that they should be capable of doing. By now.
Clothes not getting put out to wash. Clothes and bath towels and last week's swimming towel under the bed! And I discover it when they aren't around, so I can't get up them there and then. And I get grumpy with myself because I feel like I have totally failed that area of parenthood.

I have a 14 year old who doesn't clean her teeth properly. When that issue comes up - like realising that she hasn't cleaned her teeth before going out, or before going to bed - oh, yes, I feel so cranky and frustrated. (Sometimes you catch sight of her teeth in the day and you know she can't have possibly cleaned them that morning.)

I get grumpy when it takes an hour to get them to bloody bed! (And if I snuck upstairs now, one of them would have a light on still...)

And having to yell out at least a dozen times each morning to wake the 14 year old up! Grrrr! So I start the day grumpy! The same 14 year old who finds any excuse not to go to bed.

And so, yes. .. I also make myself grumpy. By not doing basic household stuff I should. (No wonder my kids are hopeless in that regard.) And when another day has gone by and I haven't done any 'abs' or push-ups at home. My 'homework', so to speak. Then I get cross with myself, and spiral into this vague grumpy mode that takes me through dinner, and getting said children to finally go to bloody bed!

There are lots of things. Inevitably when you're in a mood, if you go out in the car there'll be some wally driving slow, or not getting over near the centre line before turning, or any number of stupid things. I suppose people are doing this sort of stuff all the time, but sometimes you just notice them more than others.

And I could probably go on and on, but I'm lacking imagination on this theme that I've started, so THAT is making me grumpy!

Maybe I should buy this book that I got the picture from! http://www.tomlichtenheld.com/childrens_books/grumpy_book.htm

“Hilarious...sure to cure the grumpiest reader...”
CHILD MAGAZINE

“Guaranteed to remove every pout in sight...”
KIRKUS REVIEWS STARRED REVIEW

I wish my kids were still young enough! (and grumpy enough!) to warrant me buying it!

Labels: grumpy

This is just bloody annoying. Niggly, niggly things... like the fact that my neck is sore when I turn to the right. It was like that the other night, but after a night's sleep it was ok. This time it worked the other way.. it was ok last night, but then it was hassling me during the night. I don't know if it's muscular, or glands, or what.

And my knees! Suddenly I have knee problems. I've never had knee problems! But this week, every day a different knee is playing up - on and off. Yes, I only have two, but they are taking it in turns to share the love. Last couple of nights one or the other has suddenly decided to start hurting around dinner time - yep, just like a recalcitrant toddler who didn't have her daytime nap. Last few days, ok by morning. Weights on Wednesday: no problem. Tennis yesterday: no problem. Last night, stood up from the computer around 8.30, and whammo, left knee twingeing, right knee really hurting. Finally limped up to bed thinking 'enough already, I'll take you to bed so you can rest and be ok in the morning'. Today however my right knee is still very 'iffy' which is most inconvenient.

Just a couple of annoyances like this are quite enough to tip me into grumble mode - because it doesn't take much for me to wilt. I had grand plans to ride my bike up today to watch the two younger girls run in the District Cross Country. At this stage I'm not sure if I'll even manage my swimming class at 5.30. (Not liking the idea of turning to breathe on the right.. and I don't think the warm up with the fins is going to be really pleasant. I also certainly don't feel like running a vacuum cleaner around the house - and yes, it still needs doing.. or needs doing again.. whatever.. it's never done.

My very attentive (not) husband: So will you be able to ride in the morning?"

Me: I don't f***ing know do I? I hope so.

We are planning on riding the tandem again in the community ride tomorrow morning. There's going to be a photographer on the route to take photos for promotional purposes and we're so vain we'd like to promote riding tandems! (And maybe even manage to get hold of a photo of us riding our tandem because we have none so far.)

Fortunately I already have dinner covered tonight - container of frozen spag bol leftovers is already out defrosting. Last night (as I usually manage to do) I did solve the meal dilemma. Go me! I picked up a 1.2 kg piece of roasting beef (which was on special), slathered it with sundried tomato pesto and chucked it in the oven. Chopped some white (purple?) and orange kumara/sweet potato and potato, sprayed with oil, and chucked that in the oven too. Voila. Baked dinner. Some green beans on the side. Just like that. Don't know what I'm whingeing about. I enjoyed it, even if noone else commented! Who needs to plan ahead?

On top of the neck and the knee, I have this humungous zit on my face, between my eyebrows (but more to the right). That annoying pimple pressure. Yes. (And I have squeezed it a few times, ewwww, which I know I should not, but one can't help but try to get rid of that ghastly white head..) Very attractive. Not. I'll be keeping my sunglasses on up at the cross country.

I might also pay a visit to the chemist to stock up on drugs like Voltaren. (I've just taken some painkillers and they are kicking in with the neck at any rate.) And I might even go the glucosamine route as well. What the hell. Friend with dodgy knees swears by it, reckons it has made a heap of difference for her. What with the evening primrose oil that I'm supposedly taking each day, and then that, I'll feel like I'm rattling. While I tackle a certain amount of scepticism of the efficacy or benefit of either.

So, anyway, I'll ditch the bike riding idea, and just get through today, perhaps with a flying trip into town after the cross country to pick up a couple more things for Eldest's birthday.. even though I had already decided to go with the suggestion made by another experienced mum who has been there done that with teenagers (shhhh, daughter might read this! - fill you in tomorrow.)

I'll work on 'setting the world on fire' tomorrow.

Labels: daily, grumpy

Just having a moan. Because I have a forum in which to do so. Nobody around here is going to listen to me. Marc just rolls his eyes in bemusement. The girls are hardly going to be interested. So I will pretend 'you' are.

My legs! My back! They say 'no pain no gain', but this is crazy. I must have trashed myself at the trainer on Wednesday (Damn those bloody lunges!) even if she thinks I could be pushing myself more... "You should see your face!.. oh the seriousness of it!!!" (For crying out loud, if it looked like I was enjoying myself, she'd increase the weight, or the difficulty factor! - and guess what! You can't change 44 years of drab muscle tone in a few weeks! And *cue the quivering bottom lip*.. it's actually hard! It hurts!)

Maybe I consolidated the effects at tennis yesterday, but it was hardly what you would call a strenuous workout, winning three sets easily and losing one just as easily, and basically playing at a pretty low standard when all is said and done. Plus I refuse to do any spectacular lunges for the ball. We are not playing for sheep stations, and 'Paranoia' is my middle name when it comes to the chance of doing my back in again.

My thighs -specifically my quads - are rubbish! Marc thinks I should be going for a bike ride today. I am thinking a walk around the supermarket will be an achievement, and that is only if I don't have to stoop to get anything off a bottom shelf. My lower back has, today, decided to remind me that it exists. And can hurt. "Hey, remember me? I used to give you a bit of pain, but I've been a bit quiet lately, and you've become... how shall we say... complacent. Just a bit too optimisitic in fact. This is to let you know I'm still around, and still fragile. Hah! Thank you for your time."

Ironically, the cautionary back-saving wisdom - 'bend at the knees' - is not particularly effective at this point in time. Walking up stairs hurts! Squatting to pick something up hurts! Oh my legs!

Reckon I'm getting stuck into the housework today? Not likely.

Labels: aarrrgghhh, grumpy

At least I don't have the headache and hayfever-like symptoms I woke up with. Have been to the weights/trainer session, and feel fairly good in body. Suppose that means I haven't been 'inert'. Mentioned that Marc asked if my legs were going to be trashed for two days again (with a bike ride tomorrow morning in mind), so she decided to spare my legs and trash my arms instead.

Just feel like I've come home and hit a brick wall in terms of motivation and 'get-up-and-go'. How unusual.

My wrist is iffy still. Last night it got bad after taking the minutes at the netball meeting. I'm not quite sure what to do about it. It eases after a night's sleep. So what now? No computer AND no writing?

Sitting on the playroom floor yesterday sorting through kids' clothes that have been grown out of by the Midde One - I got a sore back. Doing stuff like that always gives me a sore back. *whinge, moan*

Run out of my usual blog reading - why has everyone been so quiet? (What? You have lives?)

Feeling great despair, basically, for the future of this country. Yesterday Cait decided to apply a Chaser style general knowledge test to these two other teenagers (in the car on the way to netball) One is 14, also in Year 9. The other is 13 or turning 13, in Year 7. She decided to run the 'dumb test' after Zoe was babbling about having to do a speech that included something about our multi-cultural society. They asked "What's multi-cultural?". Duh? What?!

So, first question in her "Chaser" test - "Who is the Leader of the Opposition?"

They DID NOT KNOW!! And not only did they not know who it was, they didn't really understand what we meant by Opposition Leader.

In the end, I mischievously asked "Who is the next Prime Minister of Australia?"

"John Howard" they chorused. (Me: No, he's the current PM. Who could be the NEXT PM?) John Howard, they answered. And then at every question, they just parroted their parents and it's gotta be 'John Howard, John Howard', till I felt like running us off the road.

I suppose spruiking your parents' opinions in itself is fairly normal. There's no doubt we are raising our kids "our way" politically. (And socially -with, I like to think, a moral conscience.) But at least they know who the effing Opposition Leader is! And they choose themselves to watch political satire like The Chaser - which doesn't confine themselves to harassing only one side of politics, and encourages you to question whatever you hear in the media - whether it be advertisements, fashion trends, or politicians. And Cait watche shows like Media Watch which demostrate that you certainly can't believe everything you read in the papers or see on TV.

The views of these other parents scare me though, given the parrotting spewing forth from this other 14 year old. I shouldn't be surprised because at a BBQ I was at with her parents last year, they said they were 'proud to be Australian' during those Cronulla race riots - which basically just made me feel sick. Violence against everyone of a middle eastern appearance is such a good way to solve an issue isn't it. So I shouldn't be surprised that the 14 year old thinks says that Howard getting us involved in the war in Iraq was a good thing because "yep, otherwise the terrorists would be out here getting us, they would!" [I suggested that it wasn't actually Saddam or Iraq who blew up the twin towers... and asked why Iraq and that particular dictator was the one the US chose to invade as opposed to all the other brutal dictators in the world right now. (Oil perhaps?) - It was way beyond anything they understood anything about. I gave up.. and I didn't even bother asking where the weapons of mass deception destruction were.]

My daughter says a lot of kids in her year don't have a clue about what is going on in the world around them. There are only two of them in her group of friends - AND her English class (which is supposedly the advanced class) who watch the news.

But all of them will be eligible to vote (and in Australia they have to vote) in about 4 years time.
Heaven help us.

So I am quite despondent today. I don't usually tend to do my political ranting on my blog (I just usually yell at the TV and radio, and just about throw up when I hear Howard's voice. And his cronies.. nearly threw something at Joe Hockey on the tv the other night.) Because, much like out there in 'real life' I don't like to alienate people who hold differing opinions to me. However it suddenly struck me yesterday that I don't actually get to mix socially with like-minded people with whom I can chat/talk/rant/rave about the important stuff of the world. Stuff that means something to me. It's all building up inside, and I'm about to blow!

My faith in decency and compassion has been totally shattered by this current government. From the Tampa/Children Overboard lies that won them one election - to the disgraceful way this government treats desperate refugees, to the illegal war in Iraq, to the IR laws and the disgusting union bashing... I have long held the view that the Australian public votes with their hip pocket nerve and a bugger you Jack as long as I'm alright view. It just seems to be getting worse, somehow... Why do there seem to be so few people who can take a minute to think about others and imagine themselves in their shoes for a minute. Others who aren't as educated. Aren't as articulate. Aren't as well off. Aren't as safe. Imagine yourself desperately fleeing a country where you couldn't say "I disagree with the policies of the Leader" for fear of being locked up! Or even just imagine yourself with none of the basic wage and conditions that you have come to accept and that have, incidentally, been won for you over the years by collective bargaining... those bastard unions.

Going back to Zoe's speech... her topic was Australia- the Lucky Country. (Found out later that it was supposed to be related to multi-culturalism.. she'd missed the preparatory sessions on it when we were on the Big Ride, and then she had a couple more days off school - the teacher still wanted her to do it.. I also found out it was part of some GATS (Gifted and Talented Students) thing, which I also knew nothing about. So we helped her prepare without knowing exactly what she was supposed to be doing!!)

The kid really needed help (she had a lot of tears over it)... and we did our best to help her come up with the ideas and to put them in her own words. When I say 'we', I mean Marc, because I suck at this sort of stuff. I have no idea how to judge what sort of 'standard' is expected of her age (she is only 8!).. I was hard pressed not to make it overly complicated by pointing out that the term 'The Lucky Country' was coined by author Donald Horne as irony.

She went to school with it prepared last Thursday and covered stuff like the geography, climate, safe, democracy etc. (I managed to slip in the quip that because we have freedom of speech "my mum can say she hates John Howard without getting locked up")

She got equal first with another girl and had to do it in front of the seniors the next day. Note home from teacher said to include multi-cultural stuff and relate all points back to multi-culturalism. FFS? I ended up by that point just writing out some stuff for her on why we are lucky in that respect, but seriously, you couldn't relate Australia not being on any faultlines to multiculturalism! And I found it terribly hard not to shoot down all the 'positives'. How can Australia be so proud of its multiculturalism, when our track record - the Aboriginals, the White Australia policy, One Nation, refugees, Cronulla race riots - is nothing to crow about in terms of being a wonderfully tolerant multi-cultural nation.

(She came first and has to do some more speeches... oh dear!)

Well... now that I've scared off half of the few readers I had ...

... and... just don't tell me if you do like John Howard or believe that the war in Iraq was legal.. or anything else along those lines. These views are the essence of who I am, and so there is no chance of changing them. And I will only become more despondent and 'inert' than I already am. And you wouldn't want that, would you?

Labels: appalling, grumpy, opinion, political

Just lately (and a lot of the time if I am honest with myself), I'd fit in rather well with the Grumpy Old Women of that British TV series. (Those of you who know me well would know how much I identify with the Grumpy Old Women at Christmas!)

It must be the age... some of them are only in their 40s - so I qualify. It's just that there are a few things around here that are driving me nuts. Yesterday, despite it being a public holiday, I felt myself sliding insidiously into Grump Mode. Partly the weather.. which came over all cloudy, rainy and, yes, cool. Nothing like the cool that other parts of the world get, but it's change of season 'cool' for me. I am sure that doesn't help one's mood.

So today? I am Officially Grumpy. And it's basically the little things that are setting me off!

** The Middle daughter is currently in a phase of doing handstands (as opposed to the headstands pictured right... I just haven't managed to catch this latest.. habit.. on camera.) So she is constantly doing handstands. In the loungeroom. It is not a big loungeroom area - a 2m x 3m rug, basically. There is no doubt she is pretty good at them (I confess I could never do handstands), but the legs flail around a bit. Sometimes a lot. And cause a bit of a breeze... and a flickering shadow because of the wall lights on the far wall, and ffs, it's just so bloody annoying!! It doesn't matter how often I tell her to stop, she is driven to it. (She has been like this before... years ago it was cartwheels - so she started acrobatic lessons that a dance teacher was running, so the cartwheels in the house eased off. But then she learnt headstands, so it was headstands everywhere... as pictured...) This latest habit is doing MY head in though! It is only a matter of time before she hurts herself or someone else. Or smashes into the TV. Last night she abused Zoe for putting the recliner on the lounge out while SHE was doing handstands. (Guess who copped an earful?!!)

** While I'm on middle daughter she's also taken to whistling. Tunelessly. Arrrghhh.. it drives me insane. I am such a horrible mother I just growl at her to stop it!! I can cope with the flute and recorder practice. But the whistling!! No!!

** Eldest daughter can't whistle, but learnt how to make a hooting noise by blowing through her hands. The other two soon caught on, so when all three start... I go demented. I also got a bit stroppy when eldest was doing it on the back of the tandem!!

** And why is it none of the girls can turn the tap in the bathroom off properly? Anytime that I go to the loo on the middle floor after they have gone to school, guaranteed, I'll sit on the loo (usually I've bolted up there for a visit of the longer type duration!!) and then I hear it *plink, plink, plink* And I have to endure it till I've finished what I went in there for. Yep.. it drives me nuts.

** While I'm in the bathroom, we have a bit of a flushing issue with our loos at the moment... (we do need to replace the cisterns, but it's all on hold now till we extend - we once went to look for replacement cisterns and there was some ridiculous issue and complication and expense involved...) So the deal for now is, when you flush you have to hold the button down till the flush has finished, otherwise the cistern cock won't reseal or something, and the cistern just continues to leak water into the bowl. So, yes, it's a bit of a pain, but it's a doable workaround, and takes, what, an extra 5 seconds? The eldest in particular is so chronically lazy, that she refuses to do it properly, and will just leave the toilet unflushed. The number of times I go up to the bathroom in the morning, and find it like that... full of paper and *ahem*... GRRRRR! And she is unrepentant. It's all OUR fault because we haven't provided her with a 'properly working' toilet, and far be it for her to have to spend 5 extra seconds of her precious time!! (I'll add in here that toilet bowls in Australia are different to the north-american style - To quote from a Wikipedia article about a Simpsons episode: "Whereas toilets in America flush with the bowl being first emptied of its wastes and then refilled with fresh water, Australian toilets are flushed by having fresh water rush into the bowl from all around the inside rim, and displace the waste by washing it over the S-bend and down the drain." Just in case you're trying to imagine it from your own loo experience.)

** What else do they do? Or not do, more to the point. They can never hang their towels up. Can't put clothes away.. At the moment there is a pile of stuff - clothes, books, etc - in the middle of the room that Alison and Zoe share. Zoe's doing I gather. "What is this for? I asked this morning. "A bonfire?"

** They have also taken to blaming me and my laundry system for when they can't find items of clothing. Despite the fact that all the dry laundry goes straight up to my room. (Only other place it could be is in the cabinet dryer in the laundry if it's been raining.) It will then either be still in the basket, unsorted, (or, ok, maybe in a pile on the floor, unsorted.) If sorted it will be either in the ironing pile or in 'their' basket, ready for being taken down to their room and put away. Not hard to guess that in this house those baskets get pretty full (then they rummage through them...and grrrrr!) But somehow, if they can't find things it's MY fault. Last week when they had friends around and I succumbed to taking them to the beach, my younger two couldn't find their rash shirts. Mum's fault of course. I found Zoe's stuffed in a bag she'd taken shopping? (Hmmm... must have been one of those clean up jobs where you just shove things out of sight...) And after Alison wore a falling apart old one, the next day I remembered that she'd actually left hers at her friend's place the weekend before. So whose fault is it? Hmmmm.

This morning, with cooler weather, she couldn't find her school jacket. 'Do you know where it is Mum?'. Nup. And not interested in looking for it either. She found it eventually (after missing the bus). "Someone stuffed it up the back of the cupboard." Indeed? Someone? Mr Nobody I suppose.

** And to finish up - for now - there is one question I get asked that is guaranteed to make me really really cranky. "What's for dinner?" My usual response is to snarl back "What you're given." I mean, why ask? Is it going to affect whether you grace us with your presence at the dinner table? Are you going to go out instead if it doesn't meet with your approval? Unless you are asking because you want to HELP prepare it, then JUST DON'T ASK!!

So is anyone else a Grumpy Old Woman, even despite your age? Like the women in the series, I am tempted to just accept it, and even revel in it. (So stay tuned for more grumping!) I'm working on the theory that it helps to get things off your chest, no matter how trivial!!

So I'm now off to do the supermarket shop. I have just realised it's a Thursday which is likely to be pension day (every fortnight I think) - so it will be more crowded than usual with pensioners of all ages getting in my road, so given my existing grumpiness, I will probably get even grumpier. Alas, I need to stock up on a few things, so today it is.

And, so help me, if anyone asks me tonight what's for dinner, they'd better watch out!

Labels: grrrrr, grumpy