I think one of the hardest things for any parent to admit to themselves is that there may be something wrong with one of their children. Admitting that you may have failed, in some small way, at recognising the signs or that you may have got it wrong, for so many years, is always a little difficult, well it has been for me.
My oldest son is 23 years old and I’ve battled for at least 10 of those last years to understand him and why he does some of the things he does. Our family life has been an ongoing battle for most of those years as we’ve navigated the seemingly bad behaviour through the teenage years and then through early adulthood with some on-going patterns of concerning behaviour.
I’ve struggled for many years to maintain the peace between my son and his step-father. I’ve heard the ‘he’s lazy, he doesn’t care, and he needs to do…’ scenarios for too many years. These are then coupled with the contrasting ‘why won’t he get off my back, I didn’t mean to, I don’t know why….’ responses. Being the meat in the sandwich is a common feeling for me. Read more…
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It occurred to me today that there’s nothing quite as attractive as a ‘tough’ guy who responds to a young child’s enthusiasm. Today driving home from work I stopped at the traffic lights and watched as a mother steered her young daughter, who was probably three or four, in a pram / tricycle combination across the crossing.
The endearing smile and enthusiastic wave that this small bundle of energy bestowed on everyone sitting at the traffic lights was enough to lighten the heaviest heart. What was great was that in the two separate cars alongside me, both of the ‘tough guys’ in work shirts waved back with the same enthusiasm as this little girl. This put a smile on my face that stayed with me all the way home. Read more…
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I’ve been a mother for almost 23 years and a nana for just 4 short months and I thought I’d heard it all. Maybe I’ve just been out of the loop for too long and not reading all of the parenting books that I used to. My education has obviously been lacking though because I’ve only recently heard about helicopter parents and lawnmower parents. What the…….?
So maybe I’m showing my age now, because when I became a mother at the tender age of 17 we were warned about not wrapping our children in cotton wool.
It seems that the more common term now is ‘helicopter parenting’, whereby there are parents who hover overhead, rarely out of sight of their children whether needed or not. Or if you’re a lawnmower parent then you smooth out and mow down your children’s obstacles.
In essence, it’s about over-parenting; parents solving their children’s problems and keeping them from harm. It’s about not letting children learn for themselves by letting Read more…
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I feel too young to be a nana. Nanas or grandmas, whatever you choose to call them, are old and grey – in my mind anyway. My grandmothers were both old and grey, and I loved them both dearly when they were alive.
One was a “nanny” and one was a “jonnie” (a name that stuck when one of my cousins was unable to pronounce grandma). One lived in Portland,Oregon in the USA, and the other lived on the east coast of Australia. In other words, they were both long distance grandparents. I hated that they were both so far away.
I became a nani on the 27th June of this year, yet I don’t feel old, and I’m not grey (a few strands don’t count do they?). Read more…
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Where in the world do you live? And, are you from there?
I live in Adelaide, which is the capital city of South Australia. I was born in a small country town called Inverell in New South Wales, which is on the east coast of Australia. We moved around a lot when I was a child because of my father’s work, moving to Perth, the capital of Western Australia when I was 5 and then several years later to Kalgoorlie which is a mining town 700km north-east of Perth. From Kalgoorlie we moved to Adelaide when I was 13, and I’ve been here ever since.
I attended four different primary schools and two different high schools, yet in contrast, my children all live in the house they were born in. Read more…
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Have you ever had one of those holidays that you wish you had never taken? You know the sort of holiday I’m talking about, one of those holidays which nightmares are made of and that made you wish that you’d stayed at home.
One of our favourite pastimes when our children were younger was taking them on camping trips. Camping was fun and cheap which were definite requirements for our holidays with only one wage coming into the house. We took my youngest son on his first camping trip at the age of 9 weeks; some of my friends were horrified that I would even consider taking such a young baby camping with no running water or electricity. Believe me when I say that babies are much easier than toddlers to take camping.
As is sometimes the case, one or two of these camping trips have been memorable (or should I say forgettable or maybe even regrettable). Read more…
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I think one of the hardest things for any parent to admit to themselves is that there may be something wrong with one of their children. Admitting that you may have failed, in some small way, at recognising the signs or that you may have got it wrong, for so many years, is always a little difficult, well it has been for me.
