Big Kid will be 14 in less than a month. Overall he’s a pretty good kid, but as is the case with most teenagers he’s trying to work out his place in the world. He’s learning how to become a person in his own right, and as part of this process he’s pushing the boundaries just a little.

I am very happy for him to assert his independence, after all that’s what success as a parent is all about to me – raising independent,  self reliant human beings. However there are rules in this house for everyone to live by and at times  Big Kid either disputes or ignores these.

We are working through this stage without too many full on dramas, but at times there has been tension between us. Some days I have felt like the only interactions between us have been negative.

Practical Man has had his own issues with Big Kid, but they have a couple of shared passions that help to keep the lines of communication open between them. When things are getting a bit tense in their realtionship, Practical Man throws the surfboards on the car’s roofracks and he and Big Kid head for the beach. Whatever problems they are having can be washed away in the surf. Other times they reconnect over a game of golf.

For me it has been harder to find a way to keep “in touch” with Big Kid. We do like to run together, which is great, but doesn’t give us much opportunity to talk. And, to be honest, running is my only real “alone” time so I’m not keen to have him come along more than once a week. Other than running we have no shared interests, or at least we didn’t have.

Enter Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

I first fell in love with this series in the 90s, in fact it was when I was up late breastfeeding Big Kid that the show first came to my attention. Practical Man and I watched every episode and then went out and bought the series on video (remember video?) Of course these days we don’t even own a video player, so it’s been a long time since I’ve watched the show. Recently I suggested to Practical Man that we get the series on dvd. Big Kid expressed an interest in watching the show with us and so, in the last school holidays, I went out and bought the first season for him.

To my great delight, Big Kid loved the show as much as I did. Every night, when the little kids went to bed, he and I would settle ourselves in front of the TV for our nightly fix. We had soon charged through the first season and so the second was purchased. We finished watching season two on Friday night. Season three has been placed on Big Kid’s birthday list and I have a strong feeling he won’t be disappointed.

I have enjoyed watching all my favourite episodes again, and I have taken great pleasure in watching my son’s enjoyment of the show. It has been fantastic to spend an hour or so at the end of the day engaging in a harmonious activity together, one that doesn’t involve a battle of wills. But  the best thing about watching Buffy together has been the opportunity for us to be on the same side once again. We can laugh about our favourite bits together and talk about what may happen in future episodes. We can slip “slayer speak” into our daily dialogue and that gives us a special way to connect. An added bonus is the content of the show: there are many issues about being a teen that come up throughout the series. The show has been a great launching pad for discussion about teenage life.

I have to say that since the slayer came into our lives our relationship has vastly improved.

It just goes to show that our kids really do still want to be connected to us, even when they are pushing us away.

Years ago, when my children were still little, my father-in-law expressed a view that parents should aim to make their children as independent as possible, as soon as possible. ‘When parents can tell that their children are able to lead independent lives,’ he added, ‘they will know their job is done.’

I must admit that the concept he introduced was a novel one. At the time, I was focused on baby-and-toddler-specific matters such as dealing with mountains of nappies, choosing kindergartens and the importance of immunisation. Thinking ahead to my babies being independent seemed something too far away to consider. There was also the matter of my own upbringing; very Italian, in the sense that my parents would have welcomed me staying home until I was a grey-haired spinster (their term, not mine) rather than face the disgrace of having an unmarried daughter leave home. I had grown up with the notion that good parents never encourage their children to leave home, just as good sons and daughters look after their elderly parents and must never, ever, put them in a nursing home.

So it’s easy to see that from my standpoint, my father-in-law’s idea seemed radical, outrageous. Almost sinful.

Yet, the notion of parents aiming to make their children independent sooner rather than later was a powerful one, and as powerful notions tend to do, it stayed with me. Since that day, I have often returned to explore it, and have brought it up with friends or other education professionals. Over the years, I’ve come to see the wisdom in the words of that long-ago day.

Though the notion of making kids independent seems irrelevant when our children are babies, it’s actually extremely pertinent, and forms the basis of a life-long philosophy for raising kids to be ready and functioning adults. Let’s not forget children become adults at 18, but how many of us still regard them as being vulnerable and at risk until well into their twenties? Too many, I’d hazard to guess.

I wonder, then, in the face of a growing number of children who delay leaving home until it seems they never will, whether parenting, like housework, has become one of those jobs that is never done.

Recently, I’ve been prompted to return to my father-in-law’s views on parenting by a couple of items in the media. The first was an article in The Age’s Good Weekend magazine (31^st Oct 2009). The author was Jonathan Biggins, who has just published a book called, The 700 Habits of Highly Ineffective Parents. Click here for a fantastic radio interview with Biggins on ABC Radio National’s Life Matters program. Biggins has views pretty much identical to my own on many matters surrounding parenting in our current, far too child-centred climate. I had quite a chuckle while listening in to Biggins’ views on talented and gifted children, participation certificates, homework in primary school, discipline and catering for child-spaces (the whole house, basically) in the home, and much, much more. Fifteen minutes well spent, trust me. It may change your whole parenting philosophy, and for the better.

In Parental as Anything, Biggins details how parents are stuck in a trap of doing everything for their kids, and too easily fall into a competitive race to give their children an ‘edge’ over other children by overdosing them on a frenetic chain of after-school activities. The illustration for the article shows a demonic-faced baby perched in a high chair, high above his kow-towing parents, who are grovelling at his feet like servants. It would be funny if I didn’t see so many examples of this in my everyday life – some of them in my own home.

Then yesterday, while still half asleep, I caught the end of a talk-back sequence on the morning radio program we wake up to. A listener had called to ask opinions on how to get her daughter – who had just finished VCE –  out of bed early enough to eat a mum-prepared breakfast before she went off to her job. Some of the callers urged the mother to leave the poor child alone – a job so soon after completing her exams?, or to encourage her to take a gap year to ‘recover’ from the rigours of VCE.

One listener rang in with a very simple, yet chilling message for the harried parent. Without beating about the bush, he said, ‘If you still need to get your seventeen year old daughter out of bed, you haven’t done your job.’ There it was. Straight down the line. Simple. True.

By helping, supporting, and being there for our children, we sometimes do them an enormous disservice. Just as leaving training wheels on a bike longer than necessary restricts manoeuvrability and hampers the development of safety skills, doing too much for our children limits their ability to do for themselves.

Recently, this fact has most aptly been demonstrated in our house. The area in question is making the children’s lunches. When our last baby was born, I gleefully handballed the odious job to Grasshopper, who’s quite handy with food preparation. Utilising an old trick of my mother’s, once he was in the habit of doing the job, I relinquished it forever. So for the last almost ten years, making the lunches for the children has been Grasshopper’s assigned job. Except that now, he doesn’t do it anymore, because the girls make their own lunches. Even Ocean Eyes, at nine, will organise a pretty spot-on, nutritious lunch for herself, sometimes nicking out to the corner milk bar before school for hommus dip to spread on her sandwich, or to eat with carrot sticks.

See, if I had continued to make lunches back ten years ago, I’d still be making them today, because though my lunches are uninspiring and repetitive, they’re steadfast. In the kitchen, whatever I may lack in virtuosity, I make up in dependability. What has encouraged the girls to do for themselves is that Grasshopper is sometimes – bless his heart – unreliable. To speak plainly, let’s just say that occasionally, he’s crap at the job. There were days when everyone was running late, Grasshopper had already left for work, and it was discovered the lunches weren’t made. Frantic lunch production would follow, which sometimes included hasty raiding of drawers, purses and favourite loose-change-hidey-spots to come up with enough money for a lunch order. Though Grasshopper’s product quality was always above par, his sustained effort rating was, at best, variable.

I don’t know of one other household where the children all make their own lunches. I hear everywhere of parents with adult kids who continue to pack lunchboxes as though their children were still in prep. I’m not saying we’re remarkable. Food preparation is just one area where our kids are on the way to becoming independent. There are other households that have other focuses, with equally impressive results, and I have much to learn from their techniques.

Why aren’t we generally expecting more from our capable, older children, than we would of paying guests in a hotel? Who suddenly cast parents in the role of live-in servants? Oh, I know the change hasn’t been that sudden. It’s been creeping in over the last few decades, but sometimes when I stop to reflect, I am truly shocked at how pampered kids in Western societies have become.

When we, as parents, don’t step back from doing for our kids, is it really because we want to help them? Do we free them of household chores, of other responsibilities like setting their own homework schedule or remembering the days and times of after school activities because we want them to focus on their education, to have down-time, to be happy?

Perhaps the truth is in that last word. Happy. We want our children to be happy, and that wish is so fervent that we fear the opposite happening with a terrible vehemence. When we don’t demand and expect of our kids, are we really acting in their best interest? I suspect that not only fear is at play here, but guilt. When I watch Ocean Eyes going about her lunch preparation so capably, my feelings are mixed. Part of me is proud, but there is another part that is guilty. If I was a good mother, wouldn’t I still be making her lunch?

The important thing is to take a step back, reflect on what the long-term outcomes of our actions are likely to be, and then change our ingrained patterns. If we want happiness for our children, we should set some long-term goals. The clichés abound here.  Short term pain for long term gain, or something to that effect. Keeping it food-related, I’ll make my own analogy: No point indulging in sweets when we know cavities lie ahead.

Parents who do too much for their children are doing them no favours in the long term.

I must apologise for my absence around here lately. I have had a post in draft form for about two weeks, but am yet to finish it. (Soon, I promise!!!)

Trailwalker has taken up a lot of my time lately. There’s all the training involved, both with the team and on my own, and a whole lot of fundraising to be done as well. Over the past few days I’ve run a couple of fundraising events at home – A Girls’ Night In and a Trailwalker Morning Tea – both of which were enormous fun, but also involved quite a bit of work on my part.

The kids have had a lot on lately too: school concerts, choir performances, musicals, spelling bees and various other “special” events – all of which have required extra effort and participation from me. Middle Kid recently starred in his Grade’s Musical In A Day. This event had been postponed a couple of times and was finally staged last Friday (at the end of a very busy week!) I to confess that my sole contribution to this event was turning up on the day. Practical Man and Middle Kid spent some time on the weekend cobbling together a costume, as I was away on a Footsloggers’ Training Weekend. Middle Kid was thrilled with the result (see photo above).

Christmas shopping has taken up a bit of time too recently. My kids finish school on the 10th of December, so I would like to be all organised before then. I’ve got most of the kids’ pressies out of the way, but I still have lots of little things to pick up – teachers’ gifts, Kris Kringle things, a little ’something’ for my aunty, etc, etc. Not mention all the food shopping (haven’t even thought about that yet!) I’m contemplating NOT writing Christmas cards this year, but in reality I know I will send them out in the first week of December as always!

Some of my “busy-ness” (in fact quite a lot of it!) has been of the fun variety. A couple of weeks ago Practical Man and I took the kids camping in the Grampians (see photos below). We tried out our new (old!) camper trailer and had ourselves a lot of fun! Since then we’ve traded the camper trailer for a full on caravan (Jayco Expanda) and this weekend we are headed to Port Fairy to try it out.

Anyway, enough excuses! I promise a “proper” post soon!!

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have a problem at all with Halloween as a significant event on a country’s cultural calendar. If that country is the US or Canada.

I just don’t think it belongs here in Australia. When I was a teen, the only experience we had of Halloween was from the TV, and mostly from the steady afternoon viewing diet of shows like My Three Sons, The Brady Bunch, The Beverly Hillbillies, and others in that genre. The concept of Halloween as an American cultural celebration was something I and my generation understood well, and I gained pleasure from that understanding as it gave me a social context in which to frame the workings of other countries.

But Halloween just wasn’t something we would do. It would seem preposterous to copy another country’s cultural heritage for no apparent reason.

In the last few years, an inexplicable interest in Halloween has become more and more prevalent, so much so that children look forward to it with a great degree of excitement – not that this is very surprising, considering lollies and chocolate are involved. Children are so easily bought.

The first time trick-or-treaters knocked on my door was when my last child was still only a baby, and had just been put down for her evening sleep. I opened the door and grumpily whispered that it wasn’t a good time. The poor kids got it and moved on to the next house where they probably hoped a more agreeable person would answer the door. A few days later, I met the mother of one of those children, and she apologetically referred to her child bothering me on Halloween night. I replied that it was no bother (though in reality it was), and then I told her that I had a philosophical opposition to Halloween, since it was a cultural festival that had no place in Australia. She listened politely, but I don’t think she shared my views.

The following year, I put a sign on our gate that said, No Trick-Or-Treaters. Rather humbug of me, I know, but I really do feel this strongly about it. That year, nobody came. But there have been times when children dressed as ghouls and ghosts, monsters and witches have knocked on our door, and I’ve had to turn them away in the most diplomatic way possible. Quite simply, I do not wish to give sweets of any kind to children I don’t know. I realise most or all of these children would have their parents’ permission to go trick-or-treating, but I have no way of being sure. As a result, I am not willing to risk the ramifications of a child being in trouble for accepting food from strangers, or eating too many lollies. What if the child is a diabetic and has snuck out without permission? It’s not an outlandish idea that there would be children dragged along on Halloween walks without their parents’ knowledge if they were sleeping at a friend’s house that night.  God forbid there should be a child with a severe nut allergy who eats one of my chocolate bars that has been contaminated with traces of nuts from a conveyor belt in the factory where it was packaged.

I also feel extremely uncomfortable about children knocking on random doors without knowing the residents. I’m not going to be a panic merchant now, and say that it’s potentially dangerous because they could, say, inadvertently meet with a pedophile. The likelihood of that is remote, and as kids are generally moving about their own neighbourhood, and in groups, there is little opportunity for a predator of that kind to harm them then and there. Still, I’m just not okay about children knocking on strangers’ doors uninvited and unannounced. It’s different if the purpose of the visit is to spread the word about a missing pet, or to retrieve a ball. Knocking on doors asking for sweets with the threat of tricks if the treats aren’t delivered is, on my radar, just not good manners.

So when my children started asking if they could join their friends in the annual Halloween knock and grab, I voiced my objections, explaining the reasons for my philosophical opposition to the practice. They listened with looks of despair on their faces, and – of course – continued in their quest to be allowed to participate. Gradually, year by year, they have worn me down. When they were younger,  I made a rule that they could go as long as there was a parent or responsible teenage sibling supervising the excursion. This meant that some invitations had to be declined. I know it might seem hypocritical of me to allow my children to participate (the oldest, at fifteen, is over it, thankfully) without being at the ready in my own home to dispense sweets. But I simply cannot take part. 

Now, if I lived in the US, I’m sure I would have a vastly different view of Halloween. I would indulge in the festivities, encouraging my children to dress up and take part with their friends. I would still have serious misgivings about my role as the giver of sweets, and of my children as knockers, but I would work out ways to get around it with sensible supervision. We do, after all, indulge in all sorts of mildly politically incorrect practices for the sake of social cohesion and cultural identity. Take Christmas, for example: Those who can afford to, sit around gorging themselves on rich food and throwing away lots of money on presents nobody needs or wants while there are so many who have so little in their own communities…but that’s another story.

We engage with Christmas if it’s part of our cultural heritage, and because there are many wonderful aspects of this festivity. Increasingly, there are members of Australian communities who do not celebrate Christmas. They observe other festivities, tied to their cultural heritage. These festivities – Ramadan and Chinese New Year to name a couple –  are incredibly significant in the lives of large numbers of Australians. What has always puzzled me is that often, we don’t embrace these religious and cultural festivals and share the celebrations in our communities. At school, children often speak of these celebrations, sharing stories of the traditions and gifts, and it’s wonderful to see how fascinating these accounts are to children from different cultural backgrounds.

So my point is, if we are going to widen our experience of cultural celebrations, why choose one that has no relevance in Australia? Do we have a significant number of American residents here? Not to my knowledge, and if we did, I would have no objection to them organising some Halloween fun to share with the rest of us. But I have a big problem with Australians actively taking part in Halloween and ignoring or shunning the religious and cultural festivals of fellow Australians.

Schools are getting behind Halloween, too, with little opposition from parents. If the local school were to have a Ramadan Day, I think there would be more than a few parents who would complain about the Muslims taking over the country. Why are we so eager to welcome in American culture when it has no relevance to our modern Australian reality? Being Australian no longer means being White, Anglo-Saxon Protestant (if it ever did). And what of our Indigenous Australians? How much do we know of their heritage? This is the knowledge our children should have. The modern Australian melting pot of cultures is what our children need to experience. Where, in all this, is the relevance of Halloween?

Maybe it’s just me, but I saw this clip on Facebook today and it really bothered me. It didn’t scare me, like I think it was supposed to, but it really annoyed me.

Yes,  some of the statistics in there are concerning, but I would need a lot more information before I could accept the information presented as fact.

For instance how is the information collected? How many children were asked these questions and where did they come from i.e was data collected from a wide cross-section of the community? Were the children asked these questions orally or did they have to complete a written questionnaire?

Then there is the issue of interpretation. There are subjective terms used in this clip like “bully” and “sex”. What one child may consider bullying another may not. Many “tweens” have an incomplete understanding of “sex” and may include kissing in a definition of sex.

Then there’s the way the facts are skewed to make them seem more insidious than they actually are. For example, the statistic about girls being more worried about being teased than about natural disasters or terrorism. Smart kids! They’re much more likely to be teased (most of us are at some point) than to be a victim of a natural disaster or a terrorist act. And surely we would prefer our kids to be more concerned about “kid stuff” than adult problems like terrorism.

I’m not saying that these statistics are not true. I am saying we need to really think about where the information comes from and what it actually means. It’s a shame because the overall message of the clip is a good one. “Be involved” – you can’t argue with that. Teach tolerance – yep, I agree, but is using parental fear really the best way to get the message across?

I don’t think so. In fact, I believe fear breeds a culture of mistrust – the opposite of what this campaign is setting out to achieve.

I get very annoyed at the ’scaremongering’ that seems to be prevalent in the media and some parts of society today. As the mother of a tween and a teen, I would like to reassure parents of younger children that it’s not all doom and gloom out there. Yes, there are things that we, as adults, need to be aware of and to educate our kids about, but haven’t there always been? Yes, society is different now and new technologies bring new dangers along with new benefits. But the principles of good parenting haven’t changed. Love your kids, be involved in their lives, know what they are doing and who they are doing it with. Teach your kids to be responsible and trust them, but don’t be afraid to take charge when necessary.

In fact, don’t be afraid at all.

Does your child struggle in certain areas of the curriculum? Do you feel as though his/her talents are not appreciated, or even acknowledged? Do you think your child would perform much better if only teachers were aware of….

The issue of knowing students is very prominent in education nowadays. Good teachers have always been aware of this, but it’s only in recent years that its relevance has been targeted as one of the significant methods that teachers can use to effectively cater for different styles of learners.

Teachers knowing students has been the stuff of success or failure stories since time began. A pathway that works for one child may be a dead-end street for another. Sometimes teachers fail to recognise in their students what a parent knows intrinsically about their child. It’s here where a parent’s role is instrumental.

A teacher’s opinion of a student is just that: an opinion. Mostly, it’s a very educated opinion, and on the right track, but teachers are, after all, only human. Just as we see our GPs to gain information on a medical condition, so too teachers proffer their views on how best to educate our children. As an educator, I think that for the most part, teachers offer invaluable advice to parents on how their children can maximise their learning potential. There are times, however, when teachers miss the mark, and that’s when parents need to make decisions on what’s best for their child.

The website, Raising Small Souls, offers invaluable advice on parenting, and has produced a number of interesting videos. The one I’ve included in this post is a favourite of mine. By using animals in place of students, it makes the concept of teachers knowing students, and different learning styles much easier to comprehend.

Which animal is your child?

Has her/his ability been understood by teachers, or by you, the parent?

What is the best way to maximise his/her learning potential?

Watch this video, and if applicable, think about the ways your child may benefit from a new approach to his/her learning needs. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to email either of us at ligia@themumfiles.com.au or lisa@themumfiles.com.au

People have a tendency to  sentimentalise the past. Everything that belongs to the past was somehow better, more wholesome, easier and free of the stresses that plague us in our hectic and sometimes perilous present-day lives.

When I was little, I used to hear the old people (and that included people of my parents’ age as well as the elderly) go on and on about how good it used to be in the past while at the same time waxing lyrical about all the new, time and labour-saving devices like washing machines and fridges. It was the seventies, and didn’t people love their television set? – even if they didn’t yet own one in colour! They were so busy bagging faded jeans bearing political slogans, mini skirts that showed too much leg and long hair on young men I don’t think they were aware of the paradox. Funny, but I didn’t realise then that what I was witnessing was simply an age-related tendency. Now I’ve lived a few years in the world, I realise nothing much changes about human nature. In general, the young look to the future and the old look to the past. It’s our job, what we are genetically predisposed to do. All being well and good, it’s a natural thing to attack life when we’re fledglings just as it is to seek the security of those things we find comfortable and familiar when our bones are getting a bit more brittle and the concept of wandering far from the nest starts to look less and less appealing.

As I write, Ocean Eyes has wandered into the room, and without knowing the subject of this post, she sadly informed me that in the future, there will be no 5c coins. She is aware of the demise of the 1c and 2c coins only because she’s seen old specimens around the house. She went on, ‘And then there will be no 10c, or 20c.’ I said, ‘Dollar coins will be like 1c, and it will cost three hundred million dollars to buy a house.’

‘I will never have enough money to buy one,’ she said dejectedly. And then we laughed. It made me think that maybe we start sentimentalising the past a lot earlier than we realise; while we’re living it, in the present. We hold dear to the familiar and fear the unknown.

What I find fascinating about this tendency, is that it’s now happening around me. My peers are engaging in it, and it’s sometimes easy to fall right in with them. We demonise the young the same way as previous generations. And we thought we’d never become like them. Funny about that.

What I find uncomfortable about it is that it means age is catching up…or to put it another way, youthful exuberance is being replaced with narrow-mindedness and fear. For this reason, I try as often as possible to think outside the square, to keep up with the times, and to stay in the now. I figure the more I practice doing it, the more I’ll be able to do it as I get older.

From time to time, I receive an email with a whole list of reasons why life was better in the 40s, 50s, 60s and 70s than it is now. Past childhood experiences are being held up against present-day ones, which in comparison seem sanitised, lacklustre, boring and even depraved.

Sure, every era has its challenges, and we have some doozies nowadays. But let’s not let the rose-coloured glasses of childhoods past tell us that there were no problems back then to challenge even the most resourceful of parents.

Recalling some of the ‘glories of the past’ mentioned in aforesaid emails makes quite a humorous list – if it weren’t so tragic.

Sure, seatbelts weren’t needed in cars. Children could happily bounce around in the backseat while going on jolly Sunday drives with their parents. It all sounds great if we didn’t know what we know now. Seatbelts save lives, and in the past, many children perished while riding in cars without being safely strapped in.

Oh, we got every possible communicable disease and still lived to tell the tale. Yeah, right. Before mass immunisation programs, literally hundreds of children died every year from now-preventable diseases. I was one of those ‘tough’ children of the sixties who lived through Measles and Whooping Cough. I can laugh about the coughing fits that rendered me breathless for excruciatingly long seconds while my mother tugged at my arm in shops and told me to stop it so nobody would know and order us out of there. Looking back, it seems funny. That’s because I was lucky enough to contract the illness at the age of 5 and was strong enough not to die.

And weren’t we a much more functional, social bunch of people, who actually had to use the telephone to contact each other, or do the unthinkable in terms of current noughties etiquette… pop in on our friends when we thought they might be home? After all, we had so much more time on our hands then. While we busily bemoan our kids’ seemingly mindless forays into MSN, Facebook and other online social networks, while we obsess about the dangers of cyber-bullying lurking there, we forget about the positive forces of such social networking. I’ve got the feelers out for this stuff – having one daughter who uses it probably more frequently than I’d like – and apart from the time element, which parents can control, it’s all positive. There are other young people I know who use these online social networks for good instead of evil, and through them, keep in touch with many friends they may otherwise have lost touch with, some of them now living overseas. That is an incredibly powerful and positive force in young people’s lives. What parents need to do is to work on the emotional and social intelligence necessary to negotiate online social networking (and the face-to-face variety, for that matter). All being okay there, there is little trouble young people will fall prey to.

And what about the velocity of life nowadays? Indeed, life was slow-paced back a few decades, and the older generation will tell you we could experience life in a far more measured way. Properly. Well, I know life is busy, and mine less than some people I know, but I remember my mother being too busy to come to anything held at school for parents. These events weren’t held every other week like they are now, mind you. They probably happened once or twice a year. I remember once asking her to come and see me act in a comedy skit our class was contributing to a whole-school performance. She told me she couldn’t come because she was busy. I don’t remember what she had to do, but it was probably the grocery shopping or a doctor’s appointment that could perhaps have been tweaked to accommodate my momentous stage debut. In the end, I wasn’t hurt or traumatised by her apparent lack of interest. I was secure in my parents’ love, so I accepted her decision without dwelling on it longer than a minute. Now I often bring it up so I can laugh about it. So different from nowadays – and not in a good way. It’s great that parents now choose to spend more time - even though we are apparently busier than ever – taking part in their kids’ lives. I believe that both parents’ and children’s lives are enriched by it.

So if you catch yourself bemoaning the muddle our planet’s getting into, take time to stop and smell the roses. And then roll up your sleeves and see if you can’t lend a hand to being part of the solution. If you don’t get enough leisure time with your kids, make the necessary changes to your life so it’s a possibility. If you worry about handing down a polluted environment to the next generation, there are small, powerful things we can all do to change attitudes and ultimately, global outcomes. Don’t be paralysed by the past, no matter how seductive its pull. Find the positives in the here and now, and if you miss something golden from the olden days, find a way to resurrect it (I hear the current generation of young adults - what letter of the alphabet are we up to now? – is right into vintage clothes, buying from op-shops and recycling).

For the sake of our kids and grandkids, we need to stay in step. They will thank us for it.

Have you noticed that modesty, as in being humble about one’s own achievements, seems to have gone out of style?

When I was a kid my parents were always proud of my achievements. They heaped praise on my brother and me whenever we did well at school, sport or in life. But they made it clear that it was very poor form indeed for us (or them) to brag about our achievements to others. We were taught to accept praise from others gracefully, with a simple ‘thank you’ but to never ‘fish’ for compliments, let alone boast about our accomplishments.

I believe this is a rule that has served me well over time. Practical Man and I have sought to instil the same value in our kids.

Recently I was embarrassed to hear Middle Kid tell a guest that he was the best speller in his class. I admonished him, telling him it wasn’t nice to brag. He looked confused. “Why?” he asked. “It’s true. I am the best speller in the class.”

“It may or may not be true,” I replied. “But that’s not the point. The point is, W doesn’t need to know you are the best speller in the class. She doesn’t need you to tell her that.”

After our guest left I had a long talk with Middle Kid, explaining to him that people didn’t need him to point out his good points to them. I told him that when he interacted with others they would be able to tell that he was intelligent and conscientious and that he was also kind and funny. “Let other people discover your talents for themselves.” I told him. “It’s rude to tell people how ‘good’ you are, but it’s also unnecessary.” I went on to explain that being the ‘best’ at something is only an achievement if it is your best and that there were kids in his grade who might have got half the words in the spelling test wrong but were still achieving a personal best.

I think he understood my point, but it is easy to see why he might be confused. It seems that being modest isn’t something that is being taught by parents these days. In the competitive 21st Century, where toddlers are enrolled in early learning programs in order to ‘get ahead’, it seems that bragging has shaken off its seedy past and is now mixing in polite society.

I have just spent an hour with the head of tutoring school. Big Kid needs some extra help with mathematics and so we are employing some outside help. This morning, the head of the school came over for me to sign some paperwork. In the space of an hour this man told me (“I don’t like to talk about myself, but…”) that he had gone to Oxford University at 14 years of age,  he had excelled in every subject he took, he had owned seven houses by the time he was 19, he was better than most teachers in secondary schools because they “teach nothing these days.”

I was gobsmacked. I barely got a word in for the whole hour. Perhaps he thought that I would be impressed by his achievements. I wasn’t. In fact his self indulgent monologue made me reconsider whether I wanted to pursue the tutoring arrangement. It was only the fact that my son won’t be taught by this man that convinced me to continue.

For some people it’s not their own achievements they’re bragging about. Parental bragging has become so common in our society that many parents don’t even realise they are doing it. I have a friend who is an intelligent, talented and interesting woman. At least she used to be – before she had children. P has the perfect pigeon pair, a boy and a girl. Her kids are smart and athletic, they’re doing very well at school. B was dux of his primary school and has received the highest academic prize in each year level since. He’s captain of the school cricket team. G is also clever, she’s won academic prizes and made it to the regional championships in cross country. She didn’t win, because she “…didn’t even train. She’s just a natural talent.”

How do I know all this? P told me, of course. We used to talk about books, movies and politics. Now when we get together we talk about kids. Her kids. Oh, she always asks after my kids, but I’m sure she’s not interested. After all, my kids are not  gifted, talented, athletic specimens like her own children, are they? Well, she’s not ever likely to know whether they are or not, because tempting as it is to play the “me too” game, I refuse to buy into that type of competitive point scoring. What she doesn’t realise is that I have formed my own opinions of her kids, based on my interactions with them. B is a lovely kid. He’s smart, witty and more importantly, he’s nice. G, on the other hand, is manipulative and sullen. She exhibits some very disturbing qualities, but her mother seems blissfully unaware of her daughter’s shortcomings.

I think it pays to remember that we can’t manage the opinions of others. People are going to make up their own minds about whether we are smart, funny, athletic, kind, nice or whatever. That being the case, it doesn’t really pay to be shouting our (or our kids’) achievements from the rooftops.

After all, nobody likes a bragger.

didn’t do much!

I’m sure that’s what my kids will write when they return to school on Monday!

I made no plans at all for these holidays and so far that’s worked out just fine. We’ve had a relaxing and enjoyable time, free from drama.

On the first Saturday of the holidays everyone was content to sleep in and then hang about in their PJs for a bit. The afternoon was taken up with doing chores. The kids helped weed and tidy the garden after giving their rooms a clean. Although not a totally pleasurable experience, they did seem to have fun using the gardening tools. Little Kid was especially proud of helping  to do “grown up” jobs.

That night Practical Man, Big Kid and I went to the football. Big Kid loves it when he is taken to an event without his younger brothers. As we sheltered from the pouring rain at Flinders St Station, I asked him why he was so pleased his brothers weren’t with us. His answer was simple, “I get to talk to you more.”

On Sunday I headed out to Trailwalker training while the boys hung out at home with PM. They lazed about for a bit and then went to the local nursery to buy some lime trees. After planting the trees PM took them all to the local ice cream parlour as a treat and a reward for all their help in the garden.

The first week flew by without us doing too much. Our football team made it into the AFL Grand Final, so on the Monday I bundled the boys into the car and we headed down the highway to Geelong, to watch our team’s final public training session. Practical Man met us at my brother’s house and we all (our family and my brother’s family) headed to the ground on foot. Even Middle Kid (who is not football mad) got caught up in the excitement. He enjoyed spending the time with his cousins and was particularly enamoured of the sausage sizzle put on by the cheer squad.

Early in the week we did a bit of book shopping. Little Kid purchased another Anna Fienberg book, Minton Goes! Underwater & Home at Last. Middle Kid got the latest Andy Griffith offering, while Big Kid added to his JK Rowling collection. I grabbed Debra Adelaide’s The Household Guide to Dying for myself. So we were set for a week full of indulgent lay ins and lazing on the couch. (I’ll do a separate post on our holiday reading at some point!)

The Minton book led to a paper mache hot air balloon being constructed by Little Kid. As always Andy Griffith sent Middle Kid into peals of laughter. MK spent many hours drawing the characters from the book and constructing new stories about them.

We all had friends over to play. For me that meant time to catch up with my teaching friends, who are all so dedicated that it’s hard to find time for proper get-togethers during the school term.

Ligia and I did a “kid swap” during the second week, which provided us both with a bit of much needed sanity. Our kids get on very well. My bigger boys loved having Ratty here for the night and they were happy to have a break from Little Kid’s constant chatter.

Our football team won the premiership, much to our great delight. Practical Man and I were lucky enough to be at the game and the boys watched it at home with an indulgent babysitter. The celebrations continued into this week and we all trundled back down to Geelong for the Victory Parade on Tuesday.

On Wednesday Ligia and I and most of our kids headed in to Book and Paper, a bookshop in Williamstown, to participate in a pirate party. Our friend, Sherryl Clark, was signing books there that day, and of course the kids were all keen to buy her latest offerings and have them signed on the spot.

Yesterday Big Kid was dropped off at the local shopping centre. He and a friend shopped, wandered and ate for a couple of hours while I took the other boys to meet friends at a park. Big Kid is growing up and I expect this type of excursion will become more and more frequent. Some of his friends have part-time jobs now.  It doesn’t seem so long ago that he was a tiny baby, dependent on me for everything. I remember longing for him to gain some independence so I could have some of my old freedom back. Now he’s capable of doing most things on his own, I wonder where all the time in between has gone.

Our luxurious, indulgent holiday is almost at an end now. I’m sure when the kids go back to school they’ll be envious for a moment of all the kids who have travelled to theme parks, been taken to movies , bowling and other fun activities. But hopefully they’ll look back on these holidays and realise that there was some fun to be had by doing nothing much at all.

A friend emailed this article to me today. Thought I’d leave the link here for you read. Let us know your thoughts.

School seeks dinner lady: humans need not apply.