Mother of a Man-Child

My life with teenage boys

Mother of a Man-Child: It’s nice to be wanted. February 11, 2011

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It’s funny how quickly your kids grow up.  One day they desperately need you and think you’re the bees knees, and the next they want you to drop them a long way from the school gate, or better still not be seen ANYWHERE with them.  And forget hugs and kisses – Yuk!

In our house we still have both extremes.  My men-children are only interested in me for two things – money and transport (the latter only when it suits them but not before or after a party)!  Oh and ensuring their clothes are washed, folded, ironed, replaced, etc, bountiful quantities of food are in the fridge, a hot meal is on the table each night, and the dishwasher miraculously fills and empties itself on a daily basis – but they’re all things that happen automatically, aren’t they?  And lest Mother of a Man-Child or Father of a Man-Child should complain, the response – “Well you decided to have children.  So that’s your job!!!”

Thankfully my dismay is tempered by the joy of having Sister of a Man-Child, who is still at the delightful age of complete and utter adoration for her parents.  When we go out she would rather we stay home than leave her with the Men-Children (can’t blame her really), and she loves every opportunity to jump into our bed for cuddles.  The highlight of her year is having Mum on tuck-shop duty (a very, very important event) that requires Mother of a Man-Child to be extremely vigilant to get on the roster, and then costs me at least $20 due to all the sudden best friends Sister of a Man-Child seems to have gained at school on said tuck-shop day.

Being Mother of a Man-Child is doubly hard with my sons as they naturally orient to other males at this age (oh and females of their OWN age).   So one can feel quite left out at times – not easy for someone who likes to be in control and in the middle of everything.  Of course they don’t mean it, it’s just the differences between the sexes becoming apparent.   Yes I know I need to get off the adolescent bridge, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it… (“He’ll be Okay” by Celia Lashlie).

No doubt when Sister of a Man-Child is older, she and I will share “girls stuff” in the same way the boys and their father share “boys stuff”.   But I also hope my daughter will maintain a special relationship with her father, and in time the boys and I will re-establish a special mother-son relationship.  I know my father enjoys great relationships with each of his daughters (he was blessed to have four of us) and we wouldn’t trade them for the world.   🙂

To read more on Man-Child books and the adolescent bridge:

https://motherofamanchild.com/2010/05/28/mother-of-a-man-child-its-a-mans-world/

 

Mother of a Man-Child: The Return of the Mullet? February 4, 2011

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In a somewhat ironic twist, it seems that being “Bogan” is somehow “in” with the very teenagers you would expect would shun this label.  Bogan-style talk and a penchant for the mullet haircut being two good examples amongst my man-child and his friends, along with skinny jeans and flannel shirts.  If they drove cars they’d have dice proudly hanging in the windscreen.

I kid you not, on more than one occasion at home Man-Child I has used language and speech that is positively Bogan – he sounds like a common gutter-mouth with no education and no manners.  His twin brother (Man-Child II) assures me that’s how he often speaks at school with his friends – wonderful!  They obviously think it’s funny and cool, although god only knows why?

Naturally in the presence of REAL Bogans (know as “muzzas” apparently), I expect all mimicking of this behaviour instantly ceases – lest they annoy the Bogans and get a good bollicking from them. 🙂

So our resident Bogan Man-Child I was on holidays recently with mates.  As one of them had hair clippers, for amusement they challenged my son to a dare.  They cut the sides of his hair short, leaving a nice tuft of hair down the middle of his head – yes a MULLET!!  As luck would have it they managed to botch it up completely, and subsequently had to give him a buzz cut to repair the poor styling.  Thank God is all I can say.  Although I would have liked to see a photo for my own amusement.

I have no problems with a buzz cut – it has many benefits including reduced risk of nits (thankfully a thing of the past for the men-children), dragging out the time between haircuts, and keeping Mother of a Man-Child’s hard earned money in her wallet longer.  In fact I’m so glad they like buzz cuts we’re giving them hair clippers for their birthday.  A wise investment so I won’t have to pay for haircuts ever again.  Akin to celebrating the time we had both of them toilet-trained and my 2-3 years of buying nappies and keeping Huggies in record profit was over.

BTW, if any of you are Bogans, my apologies if you are offended by this post.  Funnily it does make me wonder if the Bogans are getting about pretending to be uppity little private school boys with toffee voices and polos with collars standing up.  LOL.

 

Mother of a Man-Child: Pocket Money-A Different Approach? January 28, 2011

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coinsThe age-old questions about pocket-money have again raised their heads in our household.  How much should we pay our men-children?  What chores should they have to do on a daily/weekly basis to earn it?  How do we ensure they actually DO anything to help around the house?  Should we threaten no pocket-money at all to encourage them to get a job and partially fund themselves?

Our approach to date has been a weekly allowance, paid to them to spend as they see fit.  It’s not a lot I admit ($15 week) but in addition we’ve also pay $30 per month for their mobile phone usage (no ridiculous plans for us, pre-paid is fine for teenagers).  Not surprisingly the $15 is spent at Maccas, Grill’d, or various other food establishments – on reflection it wouldn’t go far would it?  You can spend $10 on lunch without even trying.  And then we pay for all “necessary” items, including clothes, haircuts, shoes etc.

I should add there are limits imposed here too – the other day Man-Child I wanted another haircut, since he likes it kept just at a certain length.  Having had one just 4 weeks earlier I said I was prepared to pay for haircuts on a regular basis, but that 4 weekly was a little too high maintenance for a teenage boy.

Our main issue is this – they currently do NOTHING to earn the $15.  Their bedrooms seem destined to remain like a tip site, the dishwasher remains full of clean dishes, the towels stay on the bathroom floor, the dirty dishes are left wherever they used them and the dirty clothes never make it to the laundry.  It’s even worse when they’re on holidays and have all day to attend to these trifling tasks and just don’t bother.  Yes I know it’s all perfectly normal teenage behaviour, but as Mother of a Man-Child and Father of a Man-Child both work full-time, a little help would be more than appreciated.

The other week Man-Child I was heading off for a holiday with a friend.  I asked him to ensure his room was left clean so I wouldn’t have to endure the sight of it for five days.  Sure, no problems.  I later discovered that this was achieved by moving every item that was in my sight line from the hallway to behind the door, thereby achieving my goal (clean room) and his (not to do it)!

Man-Child II is equally frustrating.  As you know in the midst of our renovations, Mother of a Man-Child is only just holding it together, being the neat freak that I am.  Now that the builders are working on a daily basis inside the house, instead of up in the roof, the dust, dirt and piles of building materials are slowly invading every spare inch of our home.   So I was literally BEGGING Man-Child II to clean up his room (I kid you not I was on the verge of tears and asking him to please just do it for my sanity) and he smugly replied “it’s simple really, if you don’t want to look at it, just close the door”.  I explained I also liked to see daylight in the house so he simply said he would clean his room “later”!  Of course that meant he would make a half-hearted attempt at 2am and that basically it wouldn’t be done.

BTW, we’re not just talking about wet towels and clean and dirty clothes on the floor, along with various other teenage flotsam and jetsam.  It also included the dirty frying pan and utensils that Man-Child II had used to make bacon and eggs, and then parked in the kitchen sink yet again for us to clean.  As is customary, Father of a Man-Child had parked the afore-mentioned frying pay in his bedroom, on his bed.  It had been on the floor for three days at this point.  Nice!

So our recent idea for pocket-money is to stop making the regular payments and move to an as-needs basis.  So when they ask for $20 to go to the movies, we can say “sure, no problems, but just before you get it you need to clean your room and empty the dishwasher”.  This way we get what we want, and they get what they want, and theoretically we should all end up satisfied.  What remains to be seen is whether or not we will end up much worse off financially via this approach?  But at least we will feel like we’re extracting some value for the money spent.  Oh and we’ll no doubt have to endure a man-child tantrum along with the request to do anything.

I’m sure they’ll find a way to manipulate the system to their advantage, but we figure it’s worth a try.  I know the other approach is to give them a large sum of money for the month/term and say there, everything comes out of that amount, but I don’t think our men-children are quite that disciplined as yet and I can see $300 disappearing in two weeks flat.

So that’s the idea readers.  Any thoughts or past experiences and words of wisdom welcome.  I know this is an age-old problem, so I’m sure there’s a good solution.  What do you do for your kids?  Or if you’re not at that point, what did your parents do for you?  If it’s a really good idea I might even pay you!  LOL.

To read my previous musings on this topic see the links below:

https://motherofamanchild.com/2010/06/04/mother-of-a-man-child-pocket-money-its-never-enough-is-it/

https://motherofamanchild.com/2010/09/03/mother-of-a-man-child-learning-the-value-of-a-dollar/

 

Mother of a Man-Child: Boys will be Boys on Camp January 21, 2011

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Over the summer holidays the Men-Children attended camp for a week.  It was actually run by their school.  As surprising as this may seem during the two-month long holidays that private schools enjoy, clearly someone wiser than myself understands the need for Men-Children and their parents to have a break from each other over this extended period.

The boys had wanted to attend this camp last year (at the end of Year 7).  As the camp fell in the first week of January, right when most families have their annual summer holiday together, I was adamant they should not go.  My husband agreed.  And so they didn’t.  Clearly these were signs of a mother desperate to retain a sense of control, and to hang onto the last remnants of family holidays as they slowly dissipated before her eyes.

This year the boys ended up on camp almost by mistake.  When we initially signed the paperwork it was for the senior camp in December, which I thought was a great idea as they have the entire month to do not much in my view.  A great way to fill in time and keep them off the streets quite frankly.  I much preferred primary school when they finished four days before Christmas.

The school contacted Mother of a Man-Child to confirm their attendance and the dates – yes in the first week of January.  Right in the middle of a holiday with their cousin from interstate and their grandfather, during our last stay at the family beach house (now sold).  Whilst my immediate response was “absolutely not”, I then gave consideration to the reasons we might let them go (apart from the fact that they wanted to).  In the end, common sense prevailed.  I figured that after a week with us at the beach, complaining that “it’s BORING, why can’t we have a house at Portsea, NONE of our friends are here, blah, blah” we would be more than happy to see them head off for five days and enjoy some respite from them.  Obviously there’s no doubt the feeling was reciprocal!!!

And yes for those who are thinking what spoilt children, even having a beach house to go to during summer, when it costs most families an arm and a leg to rent a beach house from the orthodontist you’ve made rich during the year whilst paying for Man-Childs teeth to be perfect, I agree.  And certainly they don’t appreciate our little sleepy hollow, complete with dirt roads and a general store, and no pub at all to attract feral young adults or Bogans.  It’s parent heaven – but clearly not teen heaven.

So off they went to camp, with much excitement and anticipation.  My excitement at five days of peace, theirs at five days of no nagging mother, being with mates, access to every water sport imaginable, and not one scrap of hygiene to worry about during the time.  Alas no amount of reminding Man-Child II to take his toothbrush worked.  He didn’t!  As he said “Who cares if you don’t brush your teeth or shower for five days – that’s what we do on every school camp.”  I’ll tell you who cares – me, and the orthodontist, that’s who.  Gross!

The upshot – my Men-Children had a great time at camp.  They came back tanned (with the mandatory sun burnt noses), looked like they’d grown two inches whilst away and developed yet more manly muscles, and were bursting with tales of what went on.  Not surprisingly most of these they were keen to share with their father not me (yep, I am getting used to this idea, very, very slowly).

They had been water-skiing, sailing, donut-ing, surfing, swimming and everything in between.  As the camp was run by Year 12 boys, and the attending boys are heading into Year 9, it also served as an “initiation” rite of sorts, with lots of boys pranks naturally.  Man-Child I was involved in one where he and a mate had to walk through the local supermarket dressed as girls.   Man-Child II proudly showed a video on his phone of the destruction of the camp mascot (a frog), to much hilarity.   (No live animals were harmed).

For my boys, this was just the sort of boisterous, boys-to-men stuff they like.  And probably just what they needed after living with their “psycho” mother all year.   No doubt it will be a unanimous decision to attend camp again next year. 🙂

 

Mother of a Man-Child: New Years at Portsea – 30 years on… January 14, 2011

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When I was 14 years old, and again at 15 years old, I begged my parents to be allowed to go to Portsea for New Years Eve. Naturally they said “NO” – not a surprise.  By the time I was finally permitted to go years later, I actually no longer wanted to go, because my peer group had moved on.  Clearly that was the intention of my parents. 🙂

As readers of my blog know, I am now experiencing first hand with my Men-Children what my parents experienced with my twin and me as their teenage daughters.  My Men-Children seem to be exhibiting extremely similar (scarily so) behaviour at exactly the same age.  Of course my father is thoroughly amused by all this – call it Karma.  Since I turned out all right, we can also assume that my Men-Children also stand a reasonable chance, so he doesn’t seem at all worried.  He’s more interested to see how I respond to the challenges of parenting a mini-me of myself.

So it should come as no surprise that Man-Child I wanted to go to Portsea for New Years Eve this year.  I am sure he planted the seed months ago with a mate, to secure a berth at someone’s house.  Which of course made it much easier for me to say I would think about it and eventually to agree.  Apparently they were off to a party at a friend’s house, which they would walk to (much better that no cars are allowed on the roads in my view).

The day before New Years, having asked the boys to tidy their room ahead of guests visiting the beach house, naturally it was me who ended up picking up wet towels off the floor and dragging doonas onto beds.  Whilst doing so I came across a bag under the bunk beds and when I pulled it out, discovered a number of grey school socks covering something cylindrical.  My first thought was large firecrackers, but alas what I found were individually wrapped stubbies of beer.  Yes that’s right, 24 bottles of warm beer.  It took me less than 0.5 seconds to work out who they belonged to and for what reason, so I picked them up and took them with me to find Man-Child I.  You can imagine his face…priceless!

The funniest thing for me was that I had asked before we left Melbourne where all the school socks were as they had strangely disappeared from the laundry.  The boys nervously responded that Man-Child I now wore his school socks with casual clothes, which I commented was very “gay” quite frankly.  Little did I know!

For once (and yes this may come as a surprise) I actually didn’t determine the resulting punishment on the spot.  I calmly advised Man-Child I there were a number of possible outcomes, namely:

  • Option 1:  Confiscate the alcohol but still allow him to go (fair)
  • Option 2:  Not allow him to go at all (very mean)
  • Option 3:  Allow him to go with the alcohol (I didn’t mention this option, but I had it up my sleeve just in case)

I then drilled him to understand how he had actually managed to acquire the beer?  We went from an un-named bottle shop in Glenferrie Road with him purchasing them initially, to the eventual truth – namely paying a “random” to buy them for him.  That was after I threatened to visit the said bottle shop and have them shut down for selling alcohol to minors.  Trust me, I so would do it!

When I told my husband about my discovery, he admitted that he actually knew about the beer!  I was not amused.  He had apparently caught our men-children passing the beer over the back fence to hide in the garden – strangely on the weekend when he was gardening.  Considering they’d been on school holidays for weeks and we’d both been working full-time I was a little surprised they were that stupid.

I was also furious to learn that Father of a Man-Child’s response had been “I don’t want to know about it”, so they had considered that tacit approval (yet again).  I mentioned that I considered that to be a clear failure of Parenting 101 and dodging responsibility.  Grrr…

As we were entertaining friends, it was several hours later before we got around to discussing what should happen with the beer.  By this stage, my friends knew about the find (it made a good story over drinks), and I had also sought the advice of my sisters and discussed/argued about it with my husband and father-in-law.

Actually it was the latter (wise older man) who had the best suggestion.  As he was kindly and conveniently taking Man-Child I to Portsea himself, he said he would take the beer as long as the parents of Man-Child’s friend knew he was bringing it.  I reasoned that this was a good approach – we were being very transparent (no more sneakiness), and the parents accepted some responsibility also.

So the result?  Countless texts and phone calls later it was all sorted.  Option 3 came to fruition – he got to go AND take the beer.  OMG, yes Mother of a Man-Child actually gave in, much to the chagrin of Man-Child II.  This is history in the making you realize?  This also meant Man-Child I was allowed to get the beers in the fridge before hand, guaranteeing an icy cold beverage.  You wouldn’t believe what they were proposing to ensure they had cold beers otherwise.

And the night?  They went to a mate’s (with beers in the back packs) then onto Shelley Beach.  The perfect hot and windy 40-degree day and night to end the year and mark the beginning of 2011.   Man-Child I survived it, no doubt sobered up by having to walk miles from his friend’s house and home again.   The only incident I learned about was a friend who had his front teeth knocked out by a charming bogan on the beach – although I understand he asked for it!

So I find myself on the cusp of another stage in adolescence.   One where I actually accept that they might just be old enough to partake selectively in alcohol…although I know it’s really not good for them at all.

And if you’re wondering what Man-Child II got up to, he didn’t manage to get to Portsea or Sorrento, or have a friend down (some things just don’t work out).  So he spent the night with some of our friends and us and we really enjoyed his company.  We even let him have a beer with us.  Cheers!

 

Mother of a Man-Child: Through the Eyes of their Younger Sister! December 23, 2010

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Brother & SisterMy men-children actually have a sibling – a gorgeous little sister, a veritable gift from God, who surprised us all seven years ago.  She’s definitely one of those “old souls”, someone who’s been here before, and is wise beyond her years.  Maybe that’s just what happens when you live in an “adult” house – they’ve seen and heard a lot more than just toddler speak growing up, and adjust their view of the world accordingly.

So I’m always interested to observe my daughter’s views on her brothers.  Of course there’s not much she misses out on hearing – you can’t ask her to go away every time there’s “secret men-children business”.  Although we do use a certain amount of discretion, depending on the sensitivity of the issue at hand.

Their relationship is probably typical of siblings, although I wish it were better.  Man-Child I is quite good with his sister, but has been known to yell aggressively at her on occasion, and she’s somewhat sensitive so doesn’t respond well to this of course (who does?).

Man-Child II is probably very like his sister in many ways and so they have one of those typical “middle child” relationships – both know exactly how to wind the other up, which causes constant squabbling and drives me mad.

I said to my poor daughter the other day in exasperation and anger unfortunately: “Just ignore Man-Child II.  He only does it because he knows he’ll get a reaction, every time.  If you don’t respond he’ll soon tire of it”.

Later that night, when he tried again, I was ready to rip his throat out.  She looked at me and said – “You’re right Mum.  Just ignore him.”  It made me stop and bite my tongue – now’s who’s the grown up one?

One day in the car she asked me a simple question:  “Mum, do you think I’ll be as bad as the boys?”  Naturally I said she wouldn’t, without any doubt in my mind, although to be honest who really knows the answer to that question?  Only time will tell.

I do wish the boys would be nicer to her.  I once observed some 16 and 18-year-old brothers with their 7-year-old sister at a wedding.  She was tired at the end of a long wedding ceremony and it was late at night.  They took it in turns to cuddle her on their laps whilst their parents mingled and danced.  I thought it was absolutely gorgeous.  Unfortunately I can’t even imagine my men-children doing that, although they will babysit if we pay them.

I am confident however that once my daughter is about 15 years old and has lots of nice girlfriends, the boys will have renewed interest in her.  🙂  I’m also hopeful they’ll love the idea of being the “chaperone” who will drive her to parties, pick her up late at night, and be the nice protective brothers they should be.

And on the recent subject of Christmas presents, having insisted the men-children at least buy one for their sister, she replied one thing she would like is for them to be nice to her for the day and not call her names.  Let’s see if Santa can organize that wish!

 

Mother of a Man-Child: Teenage Glossary of Terms Part II December 17, 2010

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For all the parents out there who are feeling a bit “old” and trying to keep up with today’s lingo, I’ve done an update of men-children’s latest phrases, complete with English language translation.

  • Shoppo = Westfield Shoppingtown at Doncaster.   I don’t recall calling it that when I was a kid.
  • Munt = Vomit, Chuck, Spew.  First heard when my boys told me about the kid who “munted” all over someone’s shoes in the tram one morning on the way to school.   Poor thing!
  • Scairn = How’s it going.  Say it slowly, it’s a kind of morphed version of these words I kid you not.  It’s also the voicemail message on Man-Child I’s mobile.  Friendly isn’t it?
  • T-Hub = True.  No idea how they came up with this one.  Wonder what Telstra think of it?  To be honest they should take it as a compliment since I doubt they get many!
  • Dedubs = phonetic expression of DW, short for Don’t Worry.  Aren’t you glad I am helping you with this stuff.  🙂
  • MILF/SILF/TILF – okay, these ones are not good.  Some of you may know these terms.   I’m sorry but I can’t give you the translation on the blog they’re so revolting.  If you hear your sons or daughters using them, whack first, ask questions later is my only advice.   Or if you know me, give me a call and I’ll explain them to you personally.
  • Dubstf – a bit like “Dedubs” above.  Short for WTF.  And that’s short for What The F&%K people.
  • Sheila, biddy = girl.   Earlier version was Mint Biddy = good looker.
  • Slappa = Bad girl.  “Slut” as we called it in my day.  What I refer to now as Skanky Ho and a term my husband hates me using – but it’s oh so apt sometimes.
  • Chin-Up Cuz = Stop “arking” up, or Chill.
  • Neck-Up Mutt = As above.  Can be shortened to Neck-Up.

So there you have it, the latest glossary of terms.  Just trying to keep you in the loop so you’re up with the program Bro!

Trust me though, these terms all sound really, really daggy when they come from the mouths of anyone who is over the age of 20.  So don’t even go there.

If you have any other gems to add to the list, drop me a line.  Once I’ve collected the next lot I’ll publish Glossary of Terms III.

And if you want to further your education, here’s the earlier article:  https://motherofamanchild.wordpress.com/2010/04/16/deciphering-man-child-language/

 

Mother of a Man-Child: Quality Nylon Carpet – Perfect! December 10, 2010

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As you may recall, we are in the midst of a renovation to house our men-children upstairs (yes, far, far away from the rest of the household).  Anticipation is growing as progress is made, with constant inspections by all to see how the plans are unfolding in real life.  Bedrooms have been claimed, and a spot for the flat screen TV, Foxtel and PS3 determined (very important assets of men-children).

From my point of view, there are other more important decisions to be made.  Yes we will have the extra heavy-duty insulation for sound-proofing so that their doof doof music will not be heard by us downstairs or the entire street we live in (pity our poor neighbours – I fear they may call the police one day over noise pollution).

The other important decision is paint, carpet and furnishings.  Whilst I contemplated blackboard paint for one minute (shows no dirt does it and they can graffiti all they like) I decided it was best not to encourage this type of behaviour in teenage boys, so white and more white it will be – and of course that makes the space look larger anyway.

We will have carpet throughout upstairs, again because it is better for noise absorption, and also nicer underfoot.  This will ensure that the angry stomping up and down stairs is not so noticeable (when mother of a man-child denies them their latest request), nor the tiger cubs throwing each other against walls or floors during a play fight.

So off I went to the carpet shop with a very clear brief.  I definitely want dark brown carpet – it hides a thousand sins.  But what type of carpet would they recommend for teenage boys in an upstairs retreat?

You could see the look of recognition cross his face – he knew EXACTLY what I was talking about, and why I had asked.  His reply:  “Madam I recommend a quality nylon carpet (I know, surely those two words don’t go together).  Whilst we sell a lot of quality wool carpets from this store, you will find nylon is far more forgiving for spills if you get to them quickly”.

Both he and I then fill in the blanks, thinking about food, soft drinks, alcohol and various other bodily fluids that the poor nylon carpet will probably see in its lifetime upstairs at our house.   And both knowing that I’m unlikely to ever get to the spills quickly, and that the boys will just rub whatever it is directly in to the carpet, but at least we’re making the best possible decision with the information we have.

I am delighted with his recommendation, and could almost hug him for his understanding and wisdom.  Of course I then discover that “quality” nylon costs about the same as “quality” wool – probably because of where I live, but so be it.  I don’t have time to shop around at a thousand carpet stores to find a better price.  And he also recommends a good quality, heavy-duty underlay – again, it helps the carpet survive, and is also good for noise – he SO knows what my life with men-children is like!

I have already picked some new doona covers and towels for upstairs.  Again, my only thought was colours or patterns that will hide a thousand sins.  I learnt my lesson about white towels some time ago.

Read that story here:  https://motherofamanchild.wordpress.com/2010/02/12/argue-this-logic/

So quality nylon it is.  You can all thank me for this lesson in how to select a quality carpet one day when you are catering to your own men-children.  🙂

 

Mother of a Man-Child: Be Alert But Not Alarmed! December 3, 2010

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Sometimes my men-children will share some random piece of information with me.  At the time, I typically think nothing of it, said information being fairly innocuous, but some days later, it’s more than likely that small but important piece of data will be linked to an event, and all the pieces will fall into place!

Here’s a recent example of the plotting and under-handedness of my men-children.  As is the practice in private schools, as we all know, the more you pay, the less time they attend.  So as we approach the end of their school term and the year, exams have been finished (that was a painful period trust me) and they are preparing for two months holiday (geez, I’ll be lucky to ever see long service leave and they get this every year).

Man-Child I casually mentioned to me the other day that his teacher had told them:  “Off the record boys, as next week is the last week of school, it doesn’t really matter if you come to school or not on Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday, but make sure you’re here for Monday (results day) and Friday (last day).”

My first thought – well, that’s a fabulous attitude to have in a school with fees the size of the national debt of Greece!  My second thought –  hell no, I want to reduce their school holidays, not increase them.

So my response to my son:  “You are going to school next week.  Every day.  I think that’s the wrong attitude for your teacher and the school to have.  Blah, Blah…….”  No doubt I ranted for a few minutes, as I tend to do, and no doubt Man-Child I stopped listening after the first 5 seconds.  But really, the message was pretty simple.  Go. To. School.

Hence you can imagine my surprise earlier this week when I received a call from Man-Child II.  He was at a school, but apparently his brother was not.  Upon the Head of Middle School noticing this, he asked my son where his twin brother was.  And realizing he had not attended school, simply said “Ring your Mother”.    Now for those who are wondering, the Head of Middle School happens to know us and our sons particularly well, having had several visits to his office during the year.  And clearly he knows who the boss is in our place – good call!

So I ring Father of a Man-Child first, to check what he knows about this situation.  He assures me that he told him to go to school, having found him lolling about in bed well after he should have headed to school.

Next I ring Man-Child I, who naturally doesn’t pick up the home phone or mobile.  So I text him:  “Get your arse to school.  You don’t have permission to stay home.  Call me ASAP”.  Reply:  “I’m at (Aunt’s) house, doing work for her.  I told Dad that.  And my form teacher even said it’s up to you and you parents if you come to school, ‘cause today we don’t do anything.”

So here’s the thing.  I obviously didn’t approve and had made my intentions pretty clear last week.  Father of a Man-Child didn’t approve, but clearly didn’t put his foot down quite strongly enough, and so Man-Child I takes the usual liberty and decides for himself that he now has tacit approval from said parent not to attend school.  Grrrr.

The up-shot of all this.  I eventually spoke to Man-Child I on the phone, and told him to get to school (insert very colourful language by mother at this point of the conversation).  He finished the job he was doing, and headed home only to discover himself locked out of the house.  Naturally he had left his house key and brain cells at home earlier that morning.  So he never made it to school.

Mother of a Man-Child:  0.  Man-Child I:  1.  Damn, I so hate to lose.  And am now giving Father of a Man-Child lessons in how to be much a much more hard-nosed parent – problem being he’s always been a softy, so it’s a bit of a stretch.  Hence it invariably falls to me “Gina” (the hard-faced-bitch) every time.

PS.  In case you’re wondering, no that is not a picture of me in the photo – I look far younger!!!   LOL!

 

Mother of a Man-Child: A Festival Hall Concert – 30 years later! November 26, 2010

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Who remembers Festival Hall?  That iconic place for performing Australian rock bands, enjoyed by generations of Melburnians over the years, including yours truly at a memorable 1979 Split Enz concert.

Wind the clock forward 30 odd years, and Man-Child I is asking me if he can attend a U18 concert with mates at Festival Hall next month.  No problems, it all sounds above-board, legitimately run etc etc, so yes he can go.  Next thing you know, as I’m halfway through making dinner, fielding calls/emails on the mobile phone, answering a million questions from 7-year-old daughter at the end of a school day, next thing I’ve got a 14-year-old boy with the laptop wanting to order the concert ticket online.  And rather than telling him to try coming back in 3 hours when it’s a little quieter, idiot mother drops everything and completes the online order, putting dinner (and my first sip of wine) off for another 10 minutes.   How do they manage to do that?

Now I mentioned my own experience as a 14-year-old attending the Festival Hall concert.  It was a great concert and we had an absolute ball.  That’s probably because we’d been drinking ourselves silly all afternoon on the banks of the Yarra River!  So without mentioning this detail to Man-Child I, I have outlined a few rules around attending the concert.  He must have dinner at home before-hand, and he’s not to ask to stay at a mate’s place that night (which he often does).  By all means have a friend to stay, but I want him local.  For good reason as you can see!

Recent events have led me to believe it’s very important to have my men-children physically “checking-in” at home on a regular basis.  Otherwise you’ve really got no way to know what they’re up to.  Just call me Inspector Mother of a Man-Child – I feel like one half the time!