How to woo the ladies

I want to tell you about a conversation I had with my eight year old boy when we were away on holiday recently.

I need to ask if I’ve potentially ruined the poor kid’s chances of happiness or if he should be okay?

Daniel, looking up from his Harry Hill book of jokes:

“Dad I have a joke for you, what did the owl say when he couldn’t go on a date with his girlfriend because of the rain?”

“I don’t know”

“It’s too wet to woo”

“Haha”

“I don’t get it”

“What?”

“What does it mean? What is ‘woo’?”

“Ah well, that’s what you do to try and impress a girlfriend so she will marry you, when you take her out on dates and things you are wooing her, trying to impress her.”

“Oh right – funny, so it’s too wet to woo, I get it”

“haha”

“So how did you woo Mum?”

“What?”

“How did you woo Mum?”

I had to think fast – I’m not sure I can remember ever doing any wooing – I could hardly say two bottles of Lambrusco Bianco, a curry and the ability to breathe through my ears now could I?

“The Robot, Son”

“What Dad?”

“The Robot dance, I wooed her with my Robot dancing, she loves that dance”

“Really, did you?”

“Yep, we went dancing and I wooed her with my Robot”

At this point my wife came out of the bathroom having heard none of this conversation.

“Mum, is this true that dad wooed you with his Robot dancing?”

“Pardon?”

“Did you marry Dad because of how good he was at the Robot dance?”

Quick as a flash and totally dead pan, Jo replied.

“Oh yes, absolutely, works every time.”

At this point Daniel whooped, jumped up and started Robot dancing his way round the room saying that he had better start practicing then.

I have created something that looks, talks, and now woos just like me, I’m so sorry ladies of the future.


Also at Glenslife.com

Balance, balance, wherefor art thou balance?

By Kristin Brumm (Wanderlust)

I’ve always been a good multi-tasker, a high energy person able to keep lots of balls in the air at once. Before I married I worked full-time, studied evenings and weekends for my graduate degree, stopped at the gym on my way to work in the mornings and managed to squeeze a satisfying social life in between all of this. So I imagined fitting kids into this equation wouldn’t be too hard, right? Right?? Oh settle down you in the back! If we all knew what parenthood was going to be like going into it our species would come to an abrupt halt.

Yeah, so, those images of me rocking a cradle with my foot as I put the finishing touches on my dissertation, or edited the final version of my novel? Dust. Go ahead and insert laugh track here.

The first few years of parenting are like being caught up in a cyclone. You have no idea what has hit you. You are powerless. You simply surrender because honestly, what else is there to do? You diaper, feed, soothe, bathe, dress, undress, sleep (well, not really sleep) in an endless loop. At some point, however, you wake up and realize your children have gained a modicum of independence and you can do things on your own for brief periods of time (go up and down the stairs, read a book, pee alone!) and it is deliciously liberating. It is about this time that fate whispers in your ear that perhaps, perhaps your life can be blessed with balance.

After all, there are scores of books and articles in women’s magazines dedicated to the topic. Articles with pictures of slender women with nice complexions sitting comfortably in lotus pose. It must actually exist, this balance. I’m sure I could achieve it if I just managed my time better, said “no” to the things that drained me, spent less time reading emails, took more bubble baths, dressed in earth tones and lit candles and baked organic cupcakes with my daughter, right? Right??

When I first came out of my mommy coma and started to do things for myself again, it was exquisitely gratifying, like a long rain after drought. I renewed old friendships. I read books. Lots and lots of books. I traveled to Australia with a girlfriend. I wrote. And wrote and wrote and wrote. All of this fed a deep need in me that I had abandoned during the selfless, faceless first years of childrearing. And yet it just touched the tip of the iceberg. Because there was still work and kids and all the day-to-day responsibilities of a life. But there was also something else. There was a noticeable backlash from my children. When I would sit down and open up my laptop (which was often) they would respond. First with sighs, later more strongly.

My daughter told me, “I think you love your computer most of all.”

My 5-year-old son: “I hate your computer.”

And two nights ago my daughter had a dream that I was leaving to go to Australia but could only take one child with me.

Wow.

Okay.

Here’s the thing. Balance is a fine concept. But it is just that. A concept. There are times in our lives when it is more achievable than others (retirement comes to mind, our twenties perhaps). I don’t think raising small children is meant to be an easy, relaxing time in our lives. Throw full-time work into the mix and it’s even less tenable. (Though, honestly, I don’t know that it’s any easier for those parents who stay at home – just a different set of challenges.) I’ve come to accept that I will probably not feel well-rested and sated in all the myriad ways I would like to be for quite some time, and that’s okay. That doesn’t mean I will stop seeking balance. It’s a necessary goal. But I think of it less as a final destination and more as a mark by which I navigate, something that keeps me from going too far off course in any one direction.

Lately, this has meant closing up my computer and getting down on the floor to build a train station out of Lincoln logs. Or sewing the arm back on Bear. Again. Or baking cupcakes with the kids (not organic, sorry) and letting them lick the bowl.

My kids will probably never have as much of me as they would like. I will never have as much of me as I would like. We’ll each have to live with that and do the best we can. I’m willing to give up more of myself to them now because I know that one day, I won’t have the honor of them wanting to spend all their time with me. I want to enjoy being at the center of their universe while it lasts. Soon enough, life will call to them and I’ll be left with time on my hands. At that point, I suppose I can unearth the tub from beneath the plastic boats and crayola bath crayons and cherry bomb no-tears shampoo that currently live there, and take that coveted bubble bath.

Middle Class Parenting

This weekend we were burdened by that most thoroughly unwanted of guests, the class teddy. You know the kind of thing. Most classes have them these days, a teddy of some description that travels around from home to home, spending qual ity time with their classmates!

They always come with a diary that must be fi lled in, to detail the toy’s visit into your home. This diary lets your teacher, and all your child’s friend’s parents know what kind of a parent you are. This book is a complete assessment of each of the children in your child’s class, allowing the parents to decide which of these children are worthy of being a friend or potential future partner for their young charge.

Or at least that is what you think everyone is doing.

The pressure is on.

Last time Sydney Duck came to visit I wound up in trouble. It had been left to me to supervise my son, Daniel, as he wrote the diary. I had also been left in charge of the boys on the day of the visit, because my wife was out at a meeting or playing netball or drinking (I forgot to listen when being told what she was doing so cannot be accurate I’m afraid).

The result was this…
“Sydney’s Diary – Daniel’s house, 10^th April 2010

We came home to Daniel’s house and were going to watch Doctor Who on TV, but Daniel’s dad had accidentally deleted the recording so we watched Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines. Daniel’s dad had missed the end off the recording so we watched Star Wars instead. Then we had Dominos Pizza for tea and watched Pulp Fiction while eating sweets for pudding.

At bed time Daniel and his brother kept getting into trouble for jumping around on their beds, hurting each other and saying rude words. Daniel’s dad kept saying his prayers. I think he was worried about something, because he kept saying ‘Oh God’ a lot and ‘She is going to kill me’. Eventually we got to sleep, but were woken up in the night by a lot of shouting, Daniel’s mum was upset about something but we couldn’t quite hear what – though I think she must have seen the film too, because she knew a lot of the words from it.”

Some of the other parents have been giving us some funny looks since that, and I notice Daniel has not been invited to many birthday parties this year.

My wife pointed out that we are supposed to be middle class and therefore we have to get the diary right – we must try harder next time! The rest of the class must see how wonderful we are at parenting!

And so this time when Sydney came to us for a whole weekend, I have taken no chances.

I wrote out his diary entry on the computer, printed it out and stuck it in the diary, pretending that Daniel had done it (middle class point number one – has access to an IT suite and can use it, check!)

As I believe that I am not the only parent that has suffered this kind of pressure, ensuring that your parenting skills are shown to their best potential within a school teddy diary, I have decided to copy the entry out here for you to use. You will need to change some of the names and details in order to make it personal, otherwise I think it should cut and paste into your life fairly easily.

Of course, it took me quite a while to write it, so the boys were downstairs watching TV for ages. I don’t know what they were watching but the smile was wiped from my face earlier; Daniel cut short the conversation on his play phone, slamming it down and saying “That was my HOE Dad, giving me earache again” I assume he must have been watching a gardening programme.

I can declare that it has worked; word has clearly spread even further than his own school friends. After only three days we have received an invite to Charles Rossiter-Smythe’s birthday party. I’ve been a bit puzzled, because the theme for the party is “boarding school attire”? I’m going to make him an Eton Mess pudding to take, that should cover it.

Any way – please use this if needed…

“Sydney’s Diary – Daniel’s house, 16^th May 2010

This weekend I went to Daniel’s house. I was immediately impressed by the cleanliness of the house. The bathroom was particularly clean. The large Schuller kitchen shone beautifully, its contemporary design somehow complimenting the traditional look of the large Aga in the corner.

The boys immediately changed out of their uniform and went out in the garden to play. Daniel’s dad came out and we all played a game of ‘times tables catch’ where if you dropped the ball, you had to recite the times table for the number of bounces before you picked it up. It was such fun.


Later (as the organic, locally produced beef casserole was cooking in the Aga) Daniel’s Mum came out and sent us on a crazy garden hunt. We had to find an insect each, bring it back and then discuss the pros and cons of the creature. Did it help the garden in some way or harm it? Then we had to write about it in our garden hunt diaries before letting it go. It was such fun.The casserole was delicious and the Kumquat and Lychee dessert was amazing.

Afterwards, we helped load the dishwasher, and I helped Daniel do his homework before playing chess.

At bedtime, Daniel’s dad read us some poems from a book about saving the whales (I had no idea that humans had been so terrible to these mighty mammals, it really made me think).

On Saturday, we all went for a long hike around the countryside, discussing the flora and fauna as well as the wildlife in the area. Occasionally, if someone said a new word, Daniel’s mum would shout “spell it” and we would all laugh as whoever it was had to try and spell the word. We went up one hill and could see that on one side the land was beautiful and covered in trees, but on the other side the terrible decay of commercialism and greed had ruined the view with power stations spewing smoke into our atmosphere. The harm this was doing was all too apparent, as the roads and houses spread evermore towards the countryside on the other side of the hill. The sight of this really made me think.

On Sunday, after church, we went to help clear up litter on the council estate. We all walked along with bags and filled them up with rubbish. The poor people on that estate don’t have bins like normal people do so they have to throw their food wrappings out of their windows I think. I don’t think they noticed us doing this because their 50” plasma TV’s had the football on; Daniel pointed out that if they didn’t spend all their money on TV, cigarettes and beer, they would be able to afford to come on school trips and pay for their own school dinners without using the vouchers. This really made me think.

In the evening (after a delicious Ratatouille and fair trade chocolate soufflé) we played historical charades. You had to pretend to be someone from history. Daniel was Neil Armstrong, and his dad was Oliver Cromwell. We all really laughed when Daniel’s mum pretended to be Emily Wilding Davison, throwing herself under the King’s horse. It was such fun, but it also really made me think.

At bedtime Daniel’s mum did some fun maths flash cards with us instead of a story, we really laughed as we did the sums.

Later, when Daniel and I got up in the night to go to the toilet we heard Daniel’s mum preying again, but unlike at church, she was really shouting “God” and “Jesus” with passion. She must be very devout.

I really enjoyed my stay with Daniel; and, as we sat in the four wheel drive for the half mile distance back to school, I hoped that I would be back soon, because it took ages to stop itching after I went to Wayne’s house that time, not to mention the boredom of just watching that big TV all weekend!”


Also posted here by http://www.glenslife.com/

A letter to my boys

Dear kids,

I love you.

I really do.

You have turned my life right around and made me a different man, a better man.

I wish I could be the kind of dad you deserve; a hero, a Superdad or a giant. I wish I could be there to pick you up from school, and go straight to the park for a game of football before dishing out some good quality, life improving advice about how to cope with growing up. I wish I could be there every night when you have your tea. I used to be home in time to do your bath and read you a story most nights, now I am not, believe me when I say I miss that. Even when I am at home to pick you up from school, I’m still working so we have to rush straight back to the house, and you get dumped in front of the TV while I go back to work. I know that you quite like the TV, but would be happy playing too – so would I.

Being a dad is much harder than I thought it would be. I thought I just had to do all the things that my dad did that I liked, not do the things that I didn’t like, and add in some things that I wanted him to do. Somewhere along the way that has got confused, it’s not always so straight forward.

Sometimes I’ve dug my heels in and got cross about things that I cannot even start to understand the reasons for now. It’s taken years to learn how to ignore the trivial fights and stick with just the important ones. I’ve made many mistakes on that front and probably still will for quite some time. Sorry, I’m not very good at that.

Daniel, you are incredible. You have such a thirst for knowledge that simply amazes me, you are going to go far mate, but I wish I could give you the 100% attention that you so desperately crave. I know how hard it was for you to accept a younger brother, and how much you have to put up with now, being followed about and adored by this boy. He ruins your games, breaks your toys and then runs off crying when you get cross with him, and this gets you in trouble again. How can someone you clearly love so much, cause you so much pain? It’s not just you mate, this has been happening for hundreds of years, ask your Uncle how it feels, I am his younger brother.

I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more when you were being bullied at school. I would have gone there for you if I could. I truly believe there are some things you have to sort out for your self though, and boy you really did. I told you to laugh it off and ignore them. I said they could only upset you if you let them, so show them that you weren’t bothered and they would move on. When your mum wasn’t listening I also mentioned that I didn’t expect you NOT to protect yourself if needed, I hope this didn’t confuse you. Since then you have done so much, and I know you are happier, you have done that yourself, and I am so proud. You have so many years left at school and there will always be problems like these, I really hope I’ve given you what you need to cope.

Jamie, you put up with so much, so patiently. Your lovely temperament and desire to play are rewarded, all too often, by being ignored while we deal with your big brother’s latest tantrum. You shrug your shoulders and play on your own, as your parents try and work out what to do with him, instead of doing something with you. Sorry son. I want you to know that we have spotted this happening, and are trying really hard to correct it. I will try my best to reward your behaviour with my time, which is all you really want, rather than giving that time to reward a different type of behaviour. This is surprisingly difficult to do, the theory makes sense but it is not easy, I will try harder mate. I’m so proud of how well you have coped with your first year at school. We were so worried about you because you were always so nervous and shy, but my goodness how you have grown this last year. Your confidence is amazing, you are amazing!

Boys, I know I don’t always get things right for you, and I hate that, but I am learning all the time, so hang in there. If I could protect you from every single piece of sadness and evil that this world will throw at you for ever, I would, but I know that I can’t. All I can do is teach, and encourage you to have the confidence and ability to face them alone. Remember when you do, I’m here.

I really don’t care what you want to be when you grow up and nor am I in a rush to find out, but I will fight hard for your right to have an opportunity to choose. I will try to help you develop into being whatever it is that you want to be. You both are blessed with good health and good brains; I hope you understand how lucky that makes you. You really can be anything!

Be happy.

Be healthy.

Be nice to your parents.

Do the best that you can at whatever you do, without comparing yourselves to other people. As long as you are trying your best, you will always be doing well.

Look out for each other.

Don’t do drugs.

As long as I’m alive, I will always be here for you; I’ll always be your dad. Come and tell me anything, whatever the problem is I will help. Oh I might be cross, I might be upset, I might even be gutted – but I will never turn my back on you when you need me, ever!

You are who you are, and I love you.

Dad x


Also posted at Glen' s Life

An Open Letter to Little People (Mine Specifically)

by Kristin Brumm (kbxmas)

I was reading one of those stories in the news the other day that I would have glossed over in the past but now that I'm a parent take on a whole new meaning. You know the ones I'm talking about. A man or woman is killed in some freak accident and as you skim the story you find out he/she had young children at home. Shudder the thought.

It got me to think what would happen if I were to meet with unfortunate design and merge with eternity while my kids were still at a tender age. If one were to ask them years down the road what wisdom they had learned at my knee that helped shepherd them into adulthood, they probably would have to give it a hard think and then come up with such as this: “clean your nails, good god”, “lean over your plate so you don't get crumbs in your lap” and “brush now or else.”

It occurred to me that I almost never tell them anything of consequence. Not that kids learn by being told, of course. But in case they ever learn by reading, I thought I'd collect my collective wisdom and put it in once place so that I would have it all ready in the event of my untimely demise or (more likely) untimely institutionalization or (most likely) our children's ability to swiftly disable the parental controls on the computer and discover my blog. Ergo,

An Open Letter to Little People (mine, specifically)

From where you sit now life may seem fairly simple and straightforward and in many respects it is. But as you lean towards adulthood you'll no doubt try to complicate it, because that's what we all do.

For instance, as you grow up you will have many friends who will all have different ideas of what is required to be adored by others. Because you are human, you will for a time play the game of trying to morph yourself into these different ideals. It is my hope that sooner, rather than later, you will learn that the quality which others most respect and find attractive is authenticity, the irony being that once you discover this you will no longer care much what others think.

Many things will seem wildly important to you at different times in your life. But here's something that really is. Find the one thing in life that makes your heart sing and do it and never stop doing it, even if it makes your father and me weep into our pillows at night. We'll get over it.

A well-paying job is lovely. A home is lovely. But before you chase that kind of stability, get out and see the world. One cannot purchase the perspective of life as viewed from beneath a worn rucksack on a lost bit of track somewhere in the Peruvian Andes.

If you're unsure whether or not you should say it, and...

• you're really angry
• in a business meeting
• have had a few too many
• are talking to an attractive man/woman who's not your significant other
• are in a chat room
• are being evaluated for a raise
• are about to hit reply to all

you probably shouldn't.

  

If you're unsure whether or not you should say it, and...

• you're feeling hurt
• are feeling centered
• are in therapy
• are talking to your parents
• are hooked up to a lie detector test
• the man/woman of your dreams is about to walk out the door

you probably should.

Things that are a bad idea:

•  Credit cards for college students
•  Credit cards in general (unless you pay them off every month)
•  Thinking, eh, you're okay to drive
•  Unprotected sex with your boyfriend/girlfriend because my god you love him/her so much and besides, you know it's a safe time of the month
•  Unprotected sex in general
•  Drugs, legal or otherwise, prescription or street, your parents' or yours or anyone else's
•  Owning a firearm (unless you live in the Yukon and need to take down a caribou for your dinner, what the hell are you thinking?)
•  Tattoos that spell things out
•  Martyrdom
•  Whining
•  Playing the victim
•  You get the picture

 Things that are a good idea:

• A degree in the liberal arts (if you really want to go into business get an MBA, but for undergrad go liberal arts; you'll be a better person for it and you will absolutely get a job)
• Condoms (yes, harp harp)
• Being the first to apologize -- contrary to popular belief, it takes a bigger person
• Laughing at yourself
• Turning off the TV and reading. Lots.
• Speaking your truth
• Over and over and over, even when it hurts
• Accountability
• Integrity
• Love over gold
• Anna, take your calcium

And always, always, you are loved.

That should do for now.


Kristin Brumm writes at Wanderlust