5 Reasons why parents should ‘babywear’ & the 5 actual reasons why most parents do.

Parents interested in the theory about carrying their baby whether they’re new or not to the parenting club, will come across the same sort of information.

Without getting into a detailed bibliography, in a kind of readers digest style, it seems to come down to 5 main points why parents should carry their baby;

1) Creating a stronger bond with their child.

2) Carried babies will mature into empathic, selfless people who are completely intune and comfortable with their world.

3) Carried babies can develop a higher degree of emotional intelligence and develop social skills quicker than their ‘left alone’ counterparts.

4) Turns parents into their own ‘baby whisperers’ because parents don’t miss their baby’s cues.

5) Baby is far more settled, which in turn makes parents more confident, which in turn establishes a peaceful harmony of love, trust which in turn will lead to world peace, the end of all wars and life forever more will be a fantasmagorically wonderful Utopia.

OK, the last part of number 5 is a work in progress, but you get my drift? There are some truly wonderful benefits of ‘babywearing’,

Realistically though, I can guarantee you that  in any  home across the world where you find a new family, theory  is the last thing on that new parent’s mind. ‘Babywearing’ might have already been on the family plan in the beautiful bloom state of a first pregnancy, but once baby is born reality sets in.

It happens to be almost comical why most parents will get into ‘babywearing’ anyway.

The 5 real top reasons why parents ‘babywear’ anyway.

FIRST Reason

Babynoia – like paranoia, but at an entirely new level.

There’s no term in the medical encyclopaedia called Babynoia, but to all parents past & present, it is a very real phenomenon. The experience of thinking you hear your baby cry, even though you know baby is asleep, just as you want to do something important.

Take showering? Who hasn’t heard their baby cry the moment you step under the water? Or taking out the rubbish, checking the mailbox or while hanging up the washing.

If showering hasn’t messed with a new parent’s sanity, hanging out the washing will.

Particularly detrimental on the first timer, who may have checked on still sleeping baby a few times already, the ‘abandonment guilt’ side of Babynoia sets in.

Thoughts like ‘I know my baby is sleeping, but what happens if our pet cat/dog/hamster/mongoose lays across baby’s neck’ or ‘Did I leave the iron/heater/left the chips cooking and a fire is starting?’.

Who would have thought in their pre-baby days that hanging out the washing could be so stressful.

Most parents will eventually rationalise that anxiety by either,

* Ignoring it, but still hanging out the washing at Olympic gold medal speed,

* Deny it, what washing?

* Or chill it, by placing baby in the sling, hanging up the washing while swirling around, rocking & possibly singing made-up nursery rhymes about little singlets & cutesy clothes. Singing does amazing things for neighbour relations, if you have a good voice.

A curious thing happens after parents get a handle on the Babynoia, some go ahead and have another baby or few.

 The SECOND reason

Family Management - Why most parents go running to the cupboard to get their baby sling out of storage – more kids!

Life changes when there’s more than one. Parents might find themselves in similar situations like -

* Turn back on newborn & toddler for a split nanosecond only to hear a strange gurgling sound. Find baby in the pram choking on a mouthful of Smarties. Do all manner of panic induced Smartie extractions while toddler says “I was only sharing mummy”. Couple more incidences like that and you don’t need to be Einstein to figure out that new baby is much safer carried under your nose than left anywhere else for the time being.

* Toddlers have the uncanny knack of timing urgent toilet needs just as baby is about to be fed. Always happens.

Mums have to precariously hold baby on the breast with one hand, handle toddler clothing & potty placement with the other.  Or if bottle fed, have bottle wedged under chin. And not forgetting the wash hands war afterwards.

To outsmart toddler toilet timing, savvy parents have their baby already nestled in the sling just before feeding time.

This is what legends in feeding time are made of.  Breastfeeding mums have baby securely attached to the breast supported by the sling, can breeze through potty urgency with both hands free (bottle feeding parents can still have one hand free) like a cool, calm, ‘I have this nailed’ pro.

*Preschool drop off. Some older siblings are absolutely grateful to get a day away from a noisy baby at preschool. They almost can’t get into the school fast enough. I remember seeing one preschooler jump out of the car, race towards the entrance arms flapping in the air, screaming out “FREEDOM!”

OK, He might have been a happy freedom seeking chappy, yet some others, well… have adjustment or jealousy issues.

When this happens, it’s not the most pleasant part of the day for any parent. It can be very, very hard to walk, prise off leg & combat all the pulling & tugging & crying & screaming from an unwilling preschooler with a baby in one arm.  After a few ‘ground hog’ mornings like that, parents can have battle half won with baby in the sling, a few deep breathes & the resolve that this too shall pass.

The THIRD reason.

Vanity!

Chuckle all you like, but when it comes to hiding the post baby jelly belly, nothing hides it like a sling. One of the oldest vanity tricks in the book. To hide a plump belly, use a large tote bag, with new mums, it’s a sling.

By carrying baby in the sling out in public, attention goes straight to the baby and not on the new mum’s lack of Miranda Kerr post baby body.

In all my years of giving birth to my greatest creations, I have only ever seen one woman carrying baby out of hospital while wearing size 8 jeans. I would like to think that she was in fact a proud new aunty carrying baby out to the car for the new parents. There was far too much spring in her step to convince me she gave birth 48 hours ago.

Also, carrying baby, breastfeeding & eating right actually help to fast track baby weight loss anyway. Just not within 48 hours.

The FOURTH reason

Personal space.

And it is very personal. In regards to how much you care if every Tom, Dick, Harry, Nigel, toddler Timmy & dear old Edna touch your baby.

Well meaning people quite readily approach a pram or shopping trolley for  a peek at the most beautiful baby in that parents world, but they also inclined to start pinching baby’s cheeks, toes, while coughing &  spluttering without any thought sometimes.

When parents get to the point where they are sick of producing instant razor sharp talons while snarling out a matching Sabre tooth “STEP AWAY FROM THE BABY” roar, the sling becomes baby & public defender all in one. Almost newsworthy if you think of how a journalist would put the headline…. 

“Sling used as a diplomatic solution in a near hostile stand-off between a parent & a stranger’.

Having baby in a sling, people usually don’t cross the invisible boundary of

adult personal space; no more  unwanted touchy feelies or having to pin a sign on your baby’s chest that reads ‘Please do not touch the baby. Trespassers will be slapped’

The FIFTH reason

Mobility.

‘Have sling & go where no pram can go before you’

Sounds a bit Star Trekky, but all sling parents love this one. Impatient parents are empowered by the speed, often secretly snickering at parents encumbered by burdensome prams as they zoom past. Also on the travelling parents top priority list of must haves, not only is the sling a lightweight baby transporter, can be used as a change pad & a cover on dubious surfaces.

Use a sling, and you won’t be held at the back of the line for an elevator any more, even if you did get there first. How many able bodied people rudely slipping in just as the elevator door opens, does a pram burdened parent have to sneer at before realising a sling is far more practical to manoeuvre in a crowd. Pram rage can only get you so far. Not denying there is a certain amount of satisfaction in ramming ankles, but using a sling, a parent can slalom around the 2 legged ant populations with stealth.

A Day in the life of a Supermum. Oh really!

How do Super Mum's live anyway?

Every morning at around 3.30am I wake up embracing the day, though it's still dark outside and the birds haven't started their morning song as of yet.

Drink a relishing tasty health tonic and escape into the shower.

Don my sport clothes for a 5km jog, travel another 2km power walk, add a 30 minute course of cardio aerobic exercise finishing with a dessert topping of a 4 lap swim.

Shaking my wet hair into a 'naturally dried, I don't need to do another thing to my hair because it's already awesome as it is'. Slip easily into my size 8, superlicious jeans, cup my boobs into a 10B bra and top that off with a stylish, 'you look yummy mummy hot' top.

With enthusiasm and gusto, make every one's lunches, pre-prepare tonight's gourmet dinner, unload and reload faithful dishwasher, clean an already clean looking house, lay out children's daily clothes, make son's power shake, hang out the laundry, pre-program the next load of washing, feed the pets, sit down with a cuppa to answer personal emails, answer online comments, finish social media strategy plan by the last drop of tea and head to work for morning start of 6.30 am.

SLAP!
Sorry about that, I was dreaming again.

Is life really that simple to traverse, yet we seem to think that other mums do.....the idealistic super-mum. The mums that seem to sail through life effortlessly, with beautiful well mannered children, vogue styled home, and an impressive income of her own. She has the Midas touch, everything is easy.

Last week, a friend asked me to watch a web-video on a 'Mogul Mum" who seemed to have it all, she is by all accounts on the surface a super-mum. Watching this well known personality speak about her success, I noticed her body language, her shoulders were hunched a little and her eyes, well, a little less than smiley.This is a woman with some personal troubles or just plain tired, but the talk was there, the hype was there, smacking of "Look at me, look at me, I am so successful". Oh really.

The last time I spoke at a parenting conference I was introduced as an inspirational super-mum, which took me back a little. Liking the compliment anyway, but I am as ordinary as the mum next door.

In reality, I wake up at around 3.30am with a groan. I'd love to meet 7am, I hear its a really good time.

Turn the light on, gasp at the state of the kitchen, make a cup of tea and turn the computer on.
Read emails. Lament at the still dark exterior......
Basically everything else above is the same minus the enthusiasm & gusto, the over achieving exercise routine, the size 8 body, preferred boob size, the hair and clothes thing too, but as soon as there is light, I do go for a 3km power walk and ho hum the joggers that zoom past me each morning. I wouldn't dare jog out of fear that my hefty cleavage will give me a set of black eyes. I'm still not trim.

Today's society expects all mothers to be superhuman, super trim and super good looking and super talented, super committed and super financially independent. No excuses.
Women everywhere are trying so hard to meet these standards and they are secretly killing themselves emotionally & physically to meet the demands.

I think about the generation of women that came before me, like my mum.
My mum's generation were the stay at home wives. Girls who worked in their youth to be typists, secretaries, check out chicks till they married and had kids.

The conversations that mum & her friends used have on their regular get togethers; the lounge room would be filled with ladies puffing away on their cigarettes, drinking their coffee and chatting about how stressful their lives were.
Guaranteed each mum in that lounge room spoke about their daily dose of Valium or diazepam (something that sounded like that), who's husband was having an affair, gossiping about who didn't clean their windows last week, what type of roast to make, the latest in knitting techniques and had anyone tried the latest craze, macrame yet.
No one spoke about their gym routine, because gyms didn't exist then.

It intrigued me as to why all of these women were on Valium or similar in the first place. Valium is a calmative, sedative, that was often prescribed to help the then modern mum through the day without breakdown.
Were children so hard to raise in those days?

The only hardship I can possibly think off for my mother was that I asked more questions than she could ever possible answer, but basically we were all kicked outside to have our own adventures till dinner time. It was great.

Fast forward to the now generation of mums, life is far more complex and convoluted, the demands so much higher, all striving to reach the super human everything, and we are doing it without the aid of Valium.

Conversations now centre around who has found the latest apps, their careers, latest business technology, cloud computing, dropbox, latest google find, FB updates, diet & exercise regime, websites, new retail stores and cafes, best new parties, music and sometimes if you listen very carefully or look at the body language, there is a little subtle hint of "I'm drowning in competition here".

Majority of mums work, so career paths are critical to reach supermum status rather than just jobs. One dear friend returned to work once her children started school as a 'check out chick' at a local supermarket, rather than her previous corporate role. "I love my job really, it's the school hours so I'm free to be mum to my boys, I dont have to worry about after school care. I leave without taking work home with me, it's ideal in every way but I'm embarrassed to mention what I do in the company of other women that have executive positions, because they look down their noses at me as if I'm not important".

In reality, women in front line roles such as retail & customer service are far more important to us on a daily level than one woman at CEO level of a major corporation that we would not normally affiliate with. Just imagine if there was no one working in the supermarkets, or no supermarkets at all, we'd be back to growing all of our own veges (which is fun), slaughtering our own chickens & cattle (which isn't fun) ourselves or standing in long, long queues.

Many mums have also become business owners. The new breed of mumpreneurs, have the added stress of single handedly building the entire infrastructure of their company from the ground up, continually pursuing business education. Elements outside the initial product or service, such as employees, marketing, social media expertise, presentations, meetings, sourcing, business & retail relationships; the list is endless.
Yet every week the benchmark lifts a little higher and the mumpreneur has to work yet harder.
Last week someone mentioned I wasn't on Pinterest. "Huh?"

No matter what society expects from us, as mother's we are still in charge of doing the same motherly duties of looking after our children and partners as our predecessor did plus a whole lot more.



Take the outside work mum, who has to get the kids up and ready, the partner too sometimes, so that she can get to work on time. I have watched mums struggle into the day care centre in our home street, holding a tearful baby in one arm whilst dragging a defiant, cantankerous toddler in the other, come back out brushing a tear a way or wait till they get in the car and thump their head on the steering wheel, taking deep breaths. Their stressful day started a while ago and they haven't even arrived at work yet.

As our children reach primary school age, there's the struggle to get them to school on time, only to have the little darlings say at the school gate "Mum did you get my bag?"

  
Not to mention the plethora of after school activities, when mum becomes the taxi service, circumnavigating afternoon traffic across a couple of suburbs if she has more than one child or maybe a few to cart around.

Juggle the taxi service in between the second most important meal of the day, which is also the most time consuming and complex meal to make - the evening dinner. Add a few rounds of homework supervision (or battle standoffs), the bath time, the kitchen cleaning, folding the laundry, the bedtime routine (or war), it's not surprising to find many an overwhelmed mum not yet out of their work clothes at 9pm, trying to make it all fit in.






Mums seem to push themselves at the expectation to perform at a top knot rate endlessly throughout their day & night in all areas, to prove 'I am woman, hear me roar! I am woman, I am invincible" as Helen Redding sang the song that inspired women to change their lives from that day forward.


In hindsight someone should have put gaffer tap over her mouth!!

Something has got to give? but what?



Aside from the the secret wishful thinking of a few hours of 'free me time', as mothers, we wouldn't trade our children for anything.

Weekends are lost on the catch up of domestic chores, leaving most working mums without the option of critical battery recharging that the kids and non helpful partners enjoy the abundance of.
We're supposed to do it with a smile to!



As we battle the 'must have clean nest' syndrome internally, we endeavour to make our lives easier; we look, we search, we share tips, ideas, suggestions. As women we do that well, we also set the benchmark, the standards, we compete, we show off, because that's what women do. We are our own most significant 'frenemy'.

A friends daughter will be turning 10 at the end of this month, so she was scouring the bowels of google, blogs, websites and Pinterest for fab ideas and came away completely disheartened, somewhat depressed, if not impressed with her finds.
Looking on one blog site, her eyes feasted, her creative juices flowed and her heart sank
"Is this the new standard for little girls parties" she groaned "I can't compete with that, now I feel lousy that I can't, not only do these things, didn't think of them in the first place and just don't have the energy to coordinate it all?" she sighs.
It seems that Mcdonalds parties are no longer acceptable for that age group.

So the hangup begins again...... 'why can't I be a better mum like that mum'.....or 'mums like that make mums like me look real bad'..

Honestly, children really don't care if their mum can't master cloud computing, spreadsheets, diverse applications or make fancy sugar iced dolly clothes for dolly cookies, they love mum for who she is; their mum.

All mums are awesome in their own right!

Laugh at the chaos,

Take a 'good' break weekly (locking yourself in the toilet for half an hour, counting to 10 over and over again isn't considered a good break)

Don't stress about having to make the beds before you go to work in the morning; an empty house doesn't care. I have never known a house to have a sign on its front door "My owner didn't make the beds today"

Baked beans on toast for dinner is more than perfectly acceptable, we just don't get enough legumes in our diet anyway.

Don't compare yourself to other mums, they are probably doing the same to you.

Toys and baby paraphernalia scattered around is a sign 'My Family lives here'

Have an FFYD (Fend For Yourself Dinner) night at least once a week if you can. I've started to partake in that great invention.

If your are totally overwhelmed (and who isn't at times) find another mum to talk with and get things off your chest. She might need it too.

Believe in yourself, your kids do.



and,

"No one ever says on their death bed, I should have spent more time in the office"

Enjoy!

Co-Sleeping - It's official, It's healthy as researchers say to do it

Well in this weeks newspaper that is, researchers are stating it’s healthy and promotes emotional intelligence. Not that it comes as a surprise to those who do so, either voluntarily or by default.

We all know that sleeping with someone makes you feel more close to him or her, more attached, more loved and more capable of loving in return. This is especially true with our children, as it extends bonding opportunities, especially for working parents who feel time deprived and quilt ridden. It’s a super bonding time without the effort. How easy is that? A parent doesn’t even have to think.

Co-Sleeping provides more comfortable, efficient and cosier environment for night feeding especially in winter when its too ‘friggin’ cold to traipse the long cold hall down to the other side of the house where you have delegated baby to sleep. Ok so you’ve done a fantastic job with decorating your baby’s room in the months waiting for your precious bundle to arrive, it doesn’t mean it’s going to waste; there are plenty of years yet where it will get trashed by growing bub.

For those who deprive themselves of even further sleep by doing the nightly bed hopping yo –yo routine, simply stop killing yourself and get on with some sleep.

I’ll guarantee my life that one morning you’ll wake up and they wont be there. I’ll also guarantee that the first response you’ll get before the rejoicing hits; is a disappointed “oh”.

I’ll also guarantee that you will sneak into their bedroom just to make sure everything is ok. You’ll know in that instant as you see your precious child still in a snuggled sleep, as your heart pangs and the lower lip will drop ever so slightly, that your child is growing up. The drawing close of an era is at hand

He or she, who would steal into your room in the dead of night with stealth, yet launch onto the bed with the diplomacy and grace of a over zealous bouncing chimpanzee as they wedge their way in between you and your partner to get prime position and double-sided cuddles is now quite happy in their own bed.

As you remind yourself of the many mornings waking up cold, greeted by a blanket of tickly hair splayed across your face, an arm draped over your chest and the blankets kicked off by the intrepid mite; one leg in and one leg out, as the sounds of gentle snoring and their mouth open & drooling as you hang on the very edge of the bed by a smidgeon, how can such a little person take up so much room?

How can you protest when hours earlier, they’ve cuddled up to you, planting their cold foot on your warm leg, “I wuv you mummy”.

I’m often asked from parents “Should I take my child back to their own bed and force them to stay there?”

I used to answer why? Why do such as thing, but now I ask them “what do you think is the right thing to do, don’t answer me with what you think is the ‘right’ answer or what you think I want to hear, but what do you think, what do you feel?”

It’s funny how most times the answer is roughly the same. When parents feel unburdened by judgement or acceptance but answer with their own thoughts & feelings.

“Actually I like it, I feel so much closer to my child, I feel its wrong to force them to sleep by themselves when they are scared or needing me” Is the usual response, so there’s your answer.

I remember my hairdresser telling me her daughter’s response, when she told her daughter that she was a big girl now and she should sleep on her own “How come if I’m a big girl and have to sleep on my own, you still sleep with daddy and you’re bigger!”

After 4 months of this nightly battle with her daughter at the insistence of her cousin (telling her that she posed irreversible damage to her daughter if she allowed her to sleep with them), she couldn’t answer the most logical argument presented. My hairdresser picked her daughter up, hopped into bed and snuggled up tight.

“I never stopped her from coming in again, wasting 4 months of sleep & sanity on trying to appease my cousin, whom I have to add has a lousy relationship with her own kids anyway. My husband enjoys her being there as he is a shift worker and doesn’t get a lot of time with her”.

If you are still worried then look at it logically

1)   How many 25 yr olds do you know still sleeping with their parents? – None hey?

2)   How many 18 yr olds do you find sleeping with their parents – I don’t think so

3)   How many 15 yr olds do you find sleeping with their parents?  Not on your nelly!

4)   How many 12 yr olds do you find sleeping with their parents? Maybe on the rare occasion if they are very sick

5)   5)How many 10 yr olds do you find sleeping with their parents? Maybe on the rare occasion after a nightmare or sick

6)   6)How many 8 yr olds do you find sleeping with their parents? Maybe a tad more than 10 yr olds, after a nightmare, sick or watching a scary movie they thought they were up for.

7)   7)5 yr olds and under – definitely a lot more because they know only mummies & daddies can keep the wardrobe monsters away.

Can you see the pattern? There’s no need to worry but a couple of tips though

1)   Get a really good bed! and 2)   In times when your child or children has a severe case of bed hog, make sure you have a comfy couch that’s long enough to sleep on.

ENJOY!

school holidays on a nano budget

Last week was the first week of NSW school holidays. Leading up to the week that I was going awol from work, I had the staff prepared and the 2 new trainees settled. I was quite confident to slip away unnoticed by many.

I had an activity plan all devised for both Little Miss Mischief and I. The Troll now the grand old age of 15 wasn't at the least bit interested in coming at all. Too attached to his playstation and online gaming to grace us with his presence visiting museums and parks.

I expected this as he is currently ranking #3 in Australia for one particular online game. There are times I don't know where the playstation ends and he starts, the 2 seem to be a fusion of one.

The only time he extricates himself is to raid the pantry several times a day to feed his lithe ravenous body.
I know that he has also some serious training to do for next years tournament in California. Darn, being a minor, I must accompany him. I have the brochures ready for all the places I am going to have to visit to occupy myself while he is battling the rest of the worlds top 100

Little Miss Mischief had devised her own plans too. Her week planned with mum was definitely different to the one I had in mind. A whole lot cheaper too.

It makes me realise that you dont need a lot of money to have a fun time with kids during the holidays, so for those on a less than a micro budget, or a nano budget bordering on a nonexistent budget, there is still a lot of fun & joy to be had.



Forget about the empty purse, laughs come for free.











Out went my
Monday - Australian museum
Tuesday - The Powerhouse Museum
Wednesday - The Aquatic park
Thursday - Featherdale Wildlife Park
Friday - Ice Skating

Replaced with LMM's plan complete with pictures that she drew
Monday - Gardening with a backyard picnic lunch (teddies too)
Tuesday - Cycle to 3 different play parks with a picnic lunch
Wednesday - Cycle along the causeway with some kite flying at the end
Thursday - Walk down to see the performers at the local shopping centre and some bungy jumping (this did cost $5)
Friday - make some homemade play dough & choc chips cookies,  build a fairy wonderland on the coffee table (all 36 barbies were invited to this operation - missing a few more flowers from the garden too)

The whole week I was out of pocket $10 as LMM wanted to go bungy jumping twice, but the smile on LMM's face was indeed priceless.
I must admit I had a lot of fun too, even battling last weeks heavy wind trying to keep the kite under control.
At one stage the kite lifted LMM of the ground and I went for a flying tackle to pull her back down. We were rolling on the grass for ages cackling ourselves silly at the notion of her flying through the sky, just like a wayward Mary Poppins.

Telling her dad on Friday afternoon that she had the best week ever as her eye's sparkled and danced around with grin that almost was too big for her face.

Needless to say I had a great week too

Bullies & Gangs not to be invited on a night out

Adult bullying – thuggery at its worst

I’m a Thrifty Thursday kind of gal, so out comes the slow cooker to ease my pain. Thursday afternoons like any other parent on the planet, is an afternoon carting kids to various after school activities, so the slow cooker rules supreme. The very best of fast food.

Yesterday it was Chicken Noodle Soup, a dish I can actually cook without epic fail or mass voluntary eviction of my homes’ other occupants- the hubby, the kids and the guard cat.

Racing inside the cold dark home before anyone else arrives from work or uni,  The Troll,  Little Miss Mischief and I were greeted by the wonderful aroma of the soup. A deep breath in, I start every mother’s daily rite of passage- extracting the obnoxious bra from one’s body!

The kids never fail to complain at this process as the boobs fall from their support a few feet southbound and with the quick ripping off the jeans to replace them with my flanney pants, my transformation into ‘comfort mum’ is complete. These pants are so comfortable, so well worn, that they have become embarrassingly ‘holy’. I find my two other trusty apparel friends, Ugg Boots and the dressing gown, wrapping that around me just as the others start to filter in from their day.

“YUM” as they breathe in the mouth watering aroma. Zip has a crusty cob loaf with her and we just cant wait to dig in.

Yep, life is incredibly normal in our daggy household.

There are always people dropping in, usually the kids friends, who are completely comfortable with seeing me in complete comfy dag state because their mums are the same.

2 mouthfuls in and a chomp on the delicious bread, conversation is flowing and Zip is just about to tell us her ‘great news’, there’s a strong knock at the door. Zip was expecting Jade to pop in, but she’s more of a little tap and ‘hello’ as she walks right on in. Quick glances around to each other and no one is volunteering to leave their dinner unattended. “OK I’ll go” as expected. Saunter away towards the front door, I almost do my dramatic pull open door and bellow with arms outstretched ‘HELLO THERE BABY”, but I have been caught out lately, scaring the bejesus out of the poor unsuspecting person on the other side of the door.

Really glad I didn’t do that this time either; it would’ve have looked bad.

2 rather tall imposing policemen are standing there looking very official and I am suddenly very conscious of my attire.

They want to speak to #2 son and for once I am grateful that the office is the first room in the house. I am very grateful that I actually cleaned the office thoroughly on the previous wet long weekend; it was looking good.

September last year, the very first of my son’s friends is getting married. Like all males the bachelor’s party is something the blokes look forward to. Thursday before the wedding they all went into the city for the big pub-crawl. My son staggered in at 4am the following morning, past the office straight to his room. I thought he was staggering because of the alcohol consumption as I hear the taxi pull away from the house.

Few hours later, he emerged from his room with a blackened swollen face and suspected broken ribs. Apparently the groom and some of the others had fared worse; the night had become more than just a good time for celebration but a near death battle.

#2 son told me that they were waiting outside a nightclub, where a young couple were leaving. The man was quite drunk so his girlfriend had him sit in the gutter as she hailed a taxi.

Along came a gang of youths, out for the night also. What happened next shocked everyone. One of the thugs took a full kick swing at the seated drunk, as if his head was a football. Then the others started kicking  & punching the now unconscious body of the boyfriend.

“Everyone froze, it was supernatural, a twilight moment” My son explained. When the poor girlfriend tried to help, the thugs turned on her without any mercy. My son, his friends and others tried to intervene and protect the girl, an all out brawl ensued. While the fray was happening another bystander called 000, as the boyfriend lay convulsing on the ground.

Arrests were made as the police turned up and several ambulances ferried the injured to hospitals in different directions.

2 days later the makeup artist spends more time on the groom and his entourage than on the bride and her bridesmaids. The photographer has her work cut out post wedding as she uses all available Photoshop skills to erase any evidence of the many war wounds. Stiff and sore they all try and enjoy the wedding that was 18 long months in the planning.

Its now June, and the legal process of that night is now in full swing. The officer’s are in the process of building the case naturally. After half an hour they ask my son to come into the station to make a formal statement, as the other members of the party will be doing as well. We oblige naturally.

I drive as my son sits quietly in the passenger seat. His father is waiting at the station already as we arrive; some of the others are there with the support of girlfriends and parents. All of them are immediately placed under arrest, which sends a wave of panic amongst us. None of us have ever been involved in any incidence like this before; we are unaware of the protocols & procedures.

An officer with extremely good communication skills quickly explains with empathy why the boys are being arrested. They are all herded into separate interview rooms with family allowed to sit with them.

In the course of the next 2 and half hours, we hear the full story of that night. Where the boys come into the picture was at the tail end of a 5-hour rampage of terror by 5 youths aged from 17 to 24 on a bender fuelled by alcohol and drugs.

The boyfriend had proposed to his girlfriend that night. He has permanent head injuries and is still residing in rehab, his girlfriend had to have a plate put in her head and is suffering from a severe case of post traumatic stress syndrome. The newly engaged couple were fresh out of university and embarking on promising careers.  Not any longer.

None of the injured knew their assailants. The couple were only 2 of 5 very seriously injured people from that night.

 Most of the thugs had already notched up prior convictions. One of them a mere 18 yr-old, had already 22 prior charges and the mind boggles how these children were raised.  Having the mindset to randomly attack another human being with such ferocious force just because they sat in their path is beyond comprehension, beyond any form of normality.

3 hours earlier my family was living a completely normal life, as it should be. I thought of the young couple whose lives have now changed from their original plans through no fault or design of their own. No amount of ‘bully-proofing’ could have repaired or even change that couples fate. I thought of their parents, family & friends, whose relationships and own lifestyles have changed, caring & attending to a loved but damaged young person.

If it had been my own child I would have wanted to kill.

This is the sad part, the fatality, the destruction caused at the hands of violent bullying.

 “It takes a couple to make a child, but the whole village to raise a child” as the saying often goes, has left me with the question; have these children, damaged goods themselves, ever had love or empathy in their lives at all?  Where were their ‘village’ if not their parents to give them at least that? A few precious lives might have been allowed the right to live a full and happy life

 “Love the whole world and the whole world will love you”

Stranger Danger or Steward Granger?

Steward Granger, my childhood hero, my heart still swoons at his memory. The Brad Pitt of my parents generation, held many a woman's heart to ransom, captivated children around the world with his daring swashbuckling pirate escapades, made ordinary men's eyes roll in annoyance while Mills & Boon rubbed their hands with glee as the muse of all romance novels increased their profit margins beyond staggering levels.

Oh, did I mention he probably saved me from potential harm? and the fact that grown-ups don't play might have helped too.
During my preschool age, in which there was no preschool in those years, I lived a life that most kids would seem like a dream; total freedom.
My family occupied the only house in the middle of what was bushy industrial nation. Our lonely little house was on the edge of a brick works plant which was flanked on 3 sides by untamed bush, on the opposite side new buildings were going up along side a couple that had been there for a while. One road dissected the strange location. There were no neighbours, no human play mates.

I know now how tiring motherhood can be with 5 children, several ring-ins, an overwhelming business and some more study for extra punishment. Then my mum was tired too; she slept for most of my waking hours.
I was too young to understand she suffered depression.

Her only activity was the cranky mornings filled with coffee and a  dozen cigarettes while she cleaned the kitchen, muttering away in her native dutch with some German expletives thrown in between the sentences. I understood both languages, as our family had not long immigrated from Holland. Now we were all learning Australian.

Dad was the engineer and plant manager of the brickworks we lived in, so he was out of bed and at work before 5am. My brothers who were almost a generation older than me, had discovered the beach, were gone by 6am to surf then off to high school or Tech as it was called in those days.

The one good thing about the lack of supervision is that imagination comes out to play unfettered.
If I wasn't roaming the very large area of the brickworks amongst all the workers looking for my dad, or hitching a ride on the forklifts around the columns of bricks, I would be sitting on the floor watching the midday movie which usually showed more than a far share of Steward Granger starring as the handsome daring, romantic pirate or renegade with a conscious.
I was a little, long shaggy haired, bare footed urchin, clad mostly in just knickers, with a see through chiffon curtain cape draped over the shoulders most of the time. After each movie, spurned on by the adventure packed action and high drama, I would race outside with a pirate sword in one hand and  my trusty ship mate, Poppy, our Kelpie dog-nanny close in tow. I would wrap a red bandanna around Poppy's neck to suit the part but the cat had long since mutineered, protesting about the wearing hers.

Like most days while mum lay asleep in a darkened room, Poppy & I went off to our 'Treasure Island'.
Treasure Island was really the scrub across the road, as the road became the sea, the cars became the man eating sharks. Most days we didn't see many sharks at all. We spent hours across the road traipsing through the tight scrub.
One day I wanted to take my little pull along cart with us. Maybe it was overloaded, for it tipped on the side of the road. While I was trying to put everything back in, I didn't notice a car pull up on the opposite side.
A man called out "Hey little girl where are you going?".
"Treasure Island!" I throw up my sword skywards dramatically.
"Well get in the car and I will take you there, it'll be quicker".

Now I thought about that for a second or two. I imagined him driving the car through the scrub to my little cubby house  made from boxes. No, I thought, a car wont fit and it didn't seem like fun because I liked to swish swash the branches out the way with my sword.
"It wont fit!" I called across the road back at him.
"I know another way, can get there by car, down the road a bit then around the corner" he motioned the direction with his hand. "It'll be fun, we'll play together"

I was still thinking about the whole car ride which is never fun with grown up,s as they always tell you to stop talking. Whereas I could talk to Poppy as much as I wanted, she never complained, actually she liked it. The constant licking of approval was anything to go by.

Then a bigger thought popped into my head, grown-ups don't play! they cant! that's what makes them grown-ups!

"Grown ups don't play, they don't know how to!" I yelled back at him. I looked down at Poppy, speaking to her in dutch "I wish this man would go away, I don't want to play with him"

The man called out again "But look what I have got" He was jiggling what looked like a white paper bag from his hand out his car window, with a big cheesy grin.

I looked down at Poppy, whose eyes where darting from him  to me.  Again I spoke to her in dutch,  "He's not normal, he wants to give me a white paper bag, I cant play with that, he's just not normal!"
I was getting rather annoyed with this man.
He called out again "Yummy sweets, I'll let you have them if you let me play with you"

I remember vividly the thoughts that went through my head when I saw the lolly he was holding.



I had seen children eating these things. I naturally wanted to try some as well, when mum warned me of the dangers of eating Australian food. To her,  Australians eat weird food, safe for their children but deadly for Dutch children. She reminded me of how raw herrings were poisonous to Italians. Mick an Italian man who worked with dad wanted to try one. He gagged and cursing so loud, he kept calling out he felt was going to die.
And because at under 4 years of age, you believe everything your mother says.
At that time my mother, like many new immigrants regarded Australian food with trepidation, having spent 6 weeks in an immigration camp, our introduction to Australian cuisine was, well, not very palatable, if anything, completely disgusting. It could have also have been mum's weapon on pester power

I got so angry, what would pirate Steward Granger do to his enemies? I looked at Poppy, pointed at the man and yelled "ATTACK!" at the top of my voice. On cue she bared teeth snapping & growling at the car.
The man took off in his car down the road as fast as he could go with Poppy chasing furiously after him. Once he was gone around the bend she stopped and started back towards me. Every few paces she would turn back in his direction, bark & growl. I can only assume it was her way of saying "And don't even think about coming back here"
I remember not wanting to play any more, so we both went back inside the yard. Poppy found her shady spot and I tiptoed into mums bedroom, slid into bed next to her. She rolled over pulling me into a close tight embrace, I fell asleep in the safety of her warm arms.

Of course years later when the reality of how dangerous that situation was, I often think if he had've shown me a Barbie doll for instance, as I was desperate to have one, would I have been more inclined to get in the car? Since I was quite comfortable occupying myself for long hours at a time, I was ignorant of the concept of loneliness, but what if I wanted a playmate, would anyone do?

Though my mums depression lasted another 2 years or so, it had started just after I was born. The dramatic change of lifestyle, language barriers and the isolation from her own family & friends augmented what she believed was post natal depression. Women suffered in silence as it was a taboo topic, but the attitude is very much different today thankfully. With quick intervention upon recognition, many mothers make a better recovery sooner and without the social stigma that once was.