I've made my decision

My day started off with my youngest on my bed, crying. With heaving sobs and snot. Begging me to allow him to have his Nerf gun present that has been denied him since he was given it over a year ago. I'm NOT a morning person and after working late last night did not have the constitution for that battle but have you noticed that none of that really matters when you're a mum? 

So as he screamed the sleep away my husband, who was getting ready for work [a little too eagerly I might add] did something never done before. He asked our son to leave the room and closed the bedroom door. 

"Tan, I think we should let him have the gun. Pete [his brother] and I grew up with spud guns and cap guns. Sometimes we played with them but not always. They didn't shape us into violent men. The more we say no to him, the more obsessed he's going to be. Why don't we let him have it and just be very clear about our boundaries?"

And just like that, I felt the pressure lift. 

I have struggled with this decision ever since Stefan ramped up his campaign for the toy. It's one of the things I find most challenging about parenting. Having to make decisions with and for my family that do not always completely align with my own values. It's been a hard lesson for me to accept that and, actually, I probably haven't really yet. Because I have always parented full-time, while Mark works, I have made the majority of the day-to-day parenting decisions. Being a 'bit of' a control freak, I like it that way. But this week has been difficult for me and today I am grateful to share that decision.

So today, with my husband's full support - I succumbed.

We called Stefan back into the room and explained that he can have the gun and these are the rules:

• No shooting, aiming or pointing at anyone.
• No shooting, aiming or pointing at any animal.
• No shooting in the house.
• Share with your brother.
• No playing with it when we have friends come to play.

He agreed to all of them and repeated them back with a tear-streaked face that positively beamed.

Then he and his and brother set up a target outside and started shooting. The whole activity lasted 20 minutes and the gun has lay discarded on the kitchen table ever since they put it down to play basketball and look at their animal card collection.

And suddenly, I feel a bit foolish.

PS - I also want to say, you helped me through this process too. When I put this out there and asked for advice, I was so grateful and touched that you took the time to share your opinion and experience. I took on board all your wisdom about intent and values and gut feelings and boundaries and resistance. And I'm so impressed at what wonderful, insightful readers I have in my little online community! 

Thank you :)

10 Parenting Rules – and I broke them all

Confession. 

I was one self-righteous, know-it-all bitch Before Children [BC]. It’s true. I knew it ALL. Anything wrong with a kid? It’s their mum’s fault. Sometimes their dad’s. But mainly mum... because she CHOSE the dad after all. In my, far from humble, opinion parents were entirely responsible for everything their kids did, thought, said and broke. 

And I knew WHY. Those parents didn’t FOLLOW THE RULES. There are rules in parenting that will guarantee a perfect child. Simple rules that I would often remind parents, even when they hadn’t asked, to help them. To guide them. To fix their brat.

Rules I swore to myself I would uphold. As the perfect parent embarking on raising the perfect child. *Insert wild, unhinged laughter here.

#1 - I will not use a dummy

It took me less than a week to let go of that one. Oh sweet, sweet dummy. How I loved the feel of you in my hand as I groped in the bassinet next to the bed under the blanket of darkness in the dead of the night to plug the screaming hole of my first born son. I brought a packet of them to hospital when my second son was born. I BEGGED him to take it. I tried every shape and size, even coating them in breast milk to TRICK HIM INTO SUCKING IT. Be careful what you wish you for. Turns out with number two I WAS the dummy. Take that you pious bitch.

#2 - My child will never sleep in the same bed as me

It's the second night of my life as a new mum and the midwife offers to take my screaming newborn to the nursery with all the other babies so I can get some sleep. 'Ok' I said as I watched her wheel him out of my room, ripping my heart out as she did. He was gone 15 minutes before I went to get him. This is how Mark found me when he got to the hospital in the morning. I promised myself it was just to get us through that one night.

Ahem. You know that feeling when you haven’t slept for 3 months and you’ve got up so many times in the night that you can’t remember putting the baby back to bed... where is the baby?? Did I feed him last time or just change his nappy? Did I feed on both boobs, or the same one twice? Why is he crying? Shhhhhh... rock, rock.... shhhhhhh... rock, rock.... shhhhhh rock, rock. Oh forget it, just lay next to me. THAT was how I broke rule #2 at home. And how, 8 years later, I simply just move over when I hear the sound of my 5 year old’s bare feet padding down the hall to my room in the middle of the night. He’s warm and cuddly. It gets a bit crowded when the 8 year old joins us every now and then, but I don’t turn him away either. Still feeling smug Tan?

#3 - I will not ‘pick my battles’. Every battle is worth it… and they need to learn that I’m the boss

Aahahahahahahaha. Ow, my sides are splitting. Dear BC TAN. You were an idiot. There are sooo many battles that have never been fought, won or lost here. Yes, you can wear your swim rashy on top of your jumper because it matches your rubber boots to the shop. Why not? Yes, you can take every teddy bear you own to bed because they will be sad without you tonight. Of course. No, you don’t have to eat the toast that I accidentally cut into triangles instead of squares. I understand it doesn’t taste the same. Just don’t cross me at bed time. That’s not negotiable. Most of the time.

#4 - I will not use food as currency to bribe my child

Well... what kind of values does that teach? I never understood the power of a promised [insert biscuit/yoghurt squeezy/ice-block/cupcake/smiley-face biscuit here] to ‘encourage’ a wilful kid to do just about anything really. Parenting Tip: carrying around any number of those bribes in your oversized handbag can make or break a public outing.

#5 - I will only feed my child organic, additive-free food

What?? Best intentions and all that.... My kids actually eat well. I’ve been pretty good at keeping their diet healthy. Additive-free is a stretch though and only organic? I’d have to take out a second mortgage to pull that one off. I have fed them McDonalds too. Oh the shame....

#6 - I will limit my child’s television viewing to no more than 30 mins per day

Oh don’t look at me like that. How was I to know that I would do anything to have an uninterrupted telephone conversation or cook dinner without tiny 'helping’ hands or do a poo on my own or just sit and be quiet?? And with the new ABC stations there’s ALL DAY kids shows WITHOUT COMMERCIALS. The cheapest babysitting you’ll ever find. And you get to have a perve-fest on Sportacus. Eye candy eating sports candy... hmmmmm.

#7 - I will not ‘give in’ to my child’s constant nagging for something at the supermarket cash register

Unless I’m on my own with the kids and everyone looking has a grimace/scowl/frown/look of pain or pity on their faces. Oh wait. That’s every time.

#8 - My house will always be spotless… because that’s all I have to do. Look after my child and clean my house. Easy.

Yes, I’m shaking my head in disbelief too. One time while the tv was babysitting so I could enjoy  one of my uninterrupted phone conversations, my, single, super-neat friend said to me “I spent all morning cleaning and my floors are so spotless you could eat off them” I looked around in despair and replied “You could eat off mine too... ‘cause that’s where all the fucking food is”

#9 - I will never yell at my child. Yelling is just a loss of control reserved for incapable mums

Yes. I was deluded. I yell at the tv when someone’s annoying. I yell at bad drivers on the road and cyclists who forget that they’re sharing the road with bad drivers. I yell at my mum, my sister, my brother, my husband. I yell at the PLAYROOM when it’s in a mess. I yell at weeds when I pull them out and the root breaks off and stays in the fucking ground. I yell at my cupboard if I’m out of coffee. How the hell I thought I would EVER not yell at my kids, who drive me insane, still astounds me. I yell. They look alive. I buy myself 2 minutes peace. They go back to whatever it is. It’s a loud, predictable dance.

#10 - My child will not dictate my schedule. They will fit into my life, not the other way around

Oh.. shut up.

Big dreams in little bodies

It's been a big week for the boys.

School's back and that means the return of routine, early morning, get-ready fights, book covering and reunited friends. 

Nathan is doing cricket, tennis and swimming this term. He also starts pre-season soccer training. He just got back from a weekend away, boogie boarding with his best mate at Middleton. I ribbed him when he got home, his hair stiff with salt and sand still in his eyebrows "So, did you get sick of Charlie while you were there?". He looked at me, simultaneously perplexed and disgusted... 

"Mum. He's my best friend. You don't get sick of your best friend". Boom. 

Nathan's not much of a socialiser, unless it involves sport. So this year, again, he has opted to forego a birthday party for a trip to Melbourne to watch his beloved Blues instead. He's heavily campaigning that Charlie goes too. We've got a couple of months to work all that out but Nathan's a planner. He's really keen to start making some connections at the club because he intends to be drafted before he turns 18. Which, of course, means we will need to move to Melbourne. He understands that it could be difficult for Stefan to leave school though, so he's already in discussion with his Aunty Pauline to move in with her until we're ready to follow him over there. Righto. 

Then, over dinner this week, he announced that it was probably time for him to start working in the family business. Which, of course, is our hope too but we were expecting him to finish school first. He made a reasonable case that he could work part-time and even from home if the business would supply him with a lap-top and a phone. He could help pack wine but he doesn't have a forklift licence, so he probably couldn't do that yet. Mark said he's discuss with the board and get back to him. 

Meanwhile Stefan is, as always, travelling to the beat of his own drum. As he sat at the breakfast bar watching me cook dinner this week he asked when I would allow him to get a tattoo. He thought he might like one on his arm to begin with and thinks a dragon might be appropriate. I've always known his penchant for pictures on his skin as he's been doing his own texta tattoos since he was a baby. I was taken aback though, that he is keen on piercings too. He calls them screws. Screws in the skin. Sigh. 

I told him that we would talk about it later which he seemed to accept. His next request was for a blue mohawk. Are you picturing what I am? My beautiful boy with the sides of his head shaved, a bright blue spikey strip down the middle, a dragon sleeve on his arm and screws coming out of his face. 

I wonder if he will still sneak into my bedroom in the morning, hold my face in his hands and kiss me, whispering 'I love you mum' while he thinks I'm sleeping. 

He has no plan to play footy or live in Melbourne with his brother. He talks about having lunch with me at the Eiffel Tower and he fiercely disagrees with Nathan that Psy is the best singer in the world. "Adele has the best voice. Ever. Even better than Michael Jackson. Because he's dead." He told me, on the way home from a trip to the beach where Mark and the boys did some body surfing in the shallows, that he was going to teach his kids to do that too. "When I'm a Tato [dad], I'll stay with them in the water until they know how to do it. They'll love that Mum. They're gonna love me" 

Time has a way of creeping up on you. It can steal your plans and hijack your dreams and slap you in the face with stinging reality.

I'm excited that my boys can see their futures. I'm proud that they're navigating their way through life and setting goals for authentic journeys. It warms my heart that they value good friendships and understand the important things that parents do and see no shame in loving. 

I just wish that time would slow down a little. 

Am I happy that my sons share their dreams and have these conversations with me? Absolutely. 

I just didn't expect them to be 7 and 5 when they did.

Happy New Year - 12 lessons from 2012

I love a new year. I love saying goodbye to the old and looking forward to the new. I love that everyone gets all sentimental and grateful and earnest. I love that people are resolute in their good intentions, that are almost always broken, and that young and old alike celebrate side by side.

It's a great time to reflect. It's a proverbial line in the sand for us to stop at. To get on our marks. To go. Travel down a new road. Take a new path. Start a new race.

In fact, the whole of last year was a line in the sand for me. My 40th year. It was a great year of discovery and celebration and an expanding girth. It was also a significant year of learning. 

Here are 12 unexpected things I learned in 2012.

1. Blondes don't have any more fun than brunettes... but the greys are much less noticeable!

2. Throwing a surprise birthday party for someone you love is EXTREMELY stressful but may well be even more special for the host than the guest of honour. I hosted two and the joy they both brought me was unimaginable.

3. Making a conscious and public effort at being grateful was easier than I thought and actually filled my heart with light.

4. My 7 year old is a 'stand up and notice' kind of awesome soccer player AND has courage enough to face his fears to perform on stage for the school production.

5. There are still far too many moronic Americans who believe in a 'right to bear arms' and I have been ASTOUNDED at some of the ridiculous arguments I have read in the case to support that lunacy.

6. Returning to paid work after a long time at home is a tough adjustment and I will certainly be doing my best to support any friends taking that journey.

7. The definition of a wolf in sheep's clothing... as discovered by too many women in my life.

8. My 5 year old has such strong and unexpected willpower. Last year he made the decision to swim without floaties and to give up night nappies and to ditch the training wheels on his bike. He did it himself and they each took only days to accomplish. Certainly makes my job easier.

9. It's really easy to make jam!

10. Celebrating your own milestone birthday in grand and lavish style is an absolute must at least once in your lifetime.

11. Bridesmaids. Best chick flick. Ever.

12. I am a story teller and some of my stories, are your stories too.

The stranger who tells our stories when we cannot speak not only awakens our spirits and hearts but also shows our humanity... 

Mende Proverb, Sierra Leone

We need to talk

"My kid just won't tell me what's going on.."

It's a common complaint of parents to children of all ages today. 

"How was school?"

"Fine"

"What did you do?"

"Nothing"

Sometimes that's frustrating. Sometimes that's worrying. Sometimes it's hurtful. Nonetheless, mums and dads everywhere will keep asking those same questions hoping, one day, for a bit of insight.

My kids are really good sharers which I'm sure doesn't surprise you given that their mum IS a blogger and I can't help thinking of an apple tree somewhere. There are other reasons that they share their stories so freely though. We are invested in communication in this family. Good, old-fashioned talking. We do a lot of it. In fact, we have to tell our youngest to STOP talking regularly. 

5 things that we do to encourage sharing are...

1. Dinner time is family time

We eat together as a family almost every night. Phones, iPods, iPads, tv etc are not allowed at the dinner table and the kids are used to chatting. The location is not important either. Our usual dining table, outside under a tree, at a restaurant or fish and chips at the beach. It's the ritual of sharing at dinner time that is important to all of us and very rarely missed. It usually starts with a comment about dinner [loving it or hating it - doesn't matter] and then one of them will ask "Who's starting?". 

2. Highlights and Lovelights

We all get a turn at starting 'highlights' and this is when we share the best parts of our days with each other. We do it every night and if we have guests at our dinner table, we invite them to share too. If I was to be honest, the highlight of my every day is probably hearing 'highlights' at the dinner table - but I'm not allowed to say that. I have to come up with something good that made me happy during that day. Somedays it's hard for all of us but we never let anyone get away with not having at least one highlight. Just recently I added an extra little thing which was everyone to share one thing that happened in their day to make them feel loved or cared for, which the boys have called 'Lovelights'. The kids worked this one out really quickly and are coming up with some really warming moments in their day such as "I felt loved when Mum sat with me on the couch and watched tv with me" and "I felt cared for when my teacher put a bandaid on my knee". 

3. Drive time is chat time

Any time in the car is a perfect opportunity to chat because your audience is captive. We don't do headphones and we don't do movies in the car, even on long road trips. We learn so much about the boys here. Just yesterday while I was driving with my 7 year old I discovered that he's already thinking about the logistics of getting his licence and how he can save up to buy his own car. It was an absolutely fascinating conversation and it gave me great insight into his thought processes.

4. Bedtime is story time

Most nights we are both home to put the kids to bed. Almost always on time and almost always with enough time for a family story. My boys share a room so we can all be in there together to read the story. They get to choose a different book each night and we all take turns to read. Even the little one has a go now too. After stories it's time for the goodnight kisses and a quick reminder of what's on the next day. Sometimes this is when I hear about something they HAVE to bring in to school the next day that I have to pull out of nowhere. Little Stefan often asks me "What do I have to look forward to tomorrow Mum?"

5. Many hands make light work

Wherever and whenever we can, we share the chore workload with the kids. Which means we're weeding together, washing the car together, stacking the dishwasher together, doing the laundry together, washing the windows together and planting the garden together. In my experience this is the best time to learn about something that may be bothering my oldest particularly. I find that if he's distracted I can take the questioning and conversations to places he would not usually feel comfortable with in the 'spotlight' of a one-to-one talk.

The foundation of solid family communication is essential for so many reasons. Harmony. Togetherness. Longevity. Respect. Understanding. 

If you are having trouble getting your kids to open up to you, try any one of my 5 tips. It doesn't matter which one/s you can do. If you're not able to eat as a family at night then come together at bedtime. If that's no good and you're flat out ferrying them from school to care to sports then use the car trips. If you're not already getting your kids to help out at home then pick a task you can share and start there.

The truth is they're all easy and I'm sure that even doing one of them regularly will result in a positive change.

xx

Time Travelling Tan

I recently watched the Time Traveller's Wife. Y'know... the one where the husband has some brain issue that causes him to travel back and forth in time so that he sees himself and his family at all different ages including after death. 

It's a head-case of a movie but it got me thinking. What would I tell myself if I knew what I do now...


Dear three year old me, 
Your fluffy little yellow baby chick is not standing up because it's dead. You killed it when you took it to bed with you to sleep. No amount of leaning it against the wall is going to make it stand up.

Dear sixteen year old me, 
I know you think he's the love of your life and that you will be with him forever and ever and NO-ONE could possibly understand how much you love him but he's not. Don't run away from home to be with him. You're going to break your mum's heart and your friends are going to think you're an idiot. Which you are.


Dear twenty two year old me, 
DO NOT resign from Apple. They're going to rule the world and you're gonna wish for the rest of your days that your were on that ship. Also, you know that start-up company that gave you an offer that you thought was too good to be true but you went for anyway? Trust your gut girl - they're crooks.

Dear pre-motherhood me,
Don't waste your time on girl's baby names.

Dear fourteen year old me, 
Don't be so hard on your Dad. He's not well and fighting many demons, which you will understand when you're older. Don't tell him that you're not his daughter because you've never had a father. Kiss him and tell him you love him. Don't tell him that you never want to see him again. Because you won't. 

Dear four year old me, 
Don't drag three kindy chairs together and ask your hugely overweight neighbour to take a seat when she comes to see you in your kindergarten concert. It will cause her and your mother enormous embarrassment.

Dear thirty-five year old me, 
The midwife got it wrong. You're NOT 7 centimetres dilated, you're only 3. Take the fucking epidural!


Dear eleven year old me,
He's just not that into you. Get used to it. It's gonna happen a lot.

Dear Year Twelve me,
Don't bother turning up to Biology AT ALL. You're going to write a poem for your mid year exam and you're gonna get passed for the subject anyway. PLUS you'll win the poetry prize, get published and have it read out on radio.


Dear twenty three year old me, 
She really IS a stupid, disloyal friend who should NEVER have chosen to sleep with your ex-boyfriend. So...when she comes out of the pub, take her around the back to beat her up instead of in the lit-up car park so you're not dragged off her in a full nelson by the bouncers.


Dear seventeen year old me,
You don't know everything. You never will.

Love forty year old me xx

What would you tell your younger self??

Beware the Anti-Mum!

So. 

I'm finally ready to admit that I'm a Mean Mum. I'm already having conversations that involve "Why can't we Mum, so and so is allowed to?" and "If I promise to do this, can I have that?" and "But Mum - EVERYONE'S got one!" 

I know you're dying to know what tipped me off. Well here's the list. Challenge me if you will.

Anti technology
We do not have a Wii or a Playstation or a DS of any denomination or a Nintendo thingy or even Foxtel. My boys are allowed to play a couple of Mean-Mum-Approved [MMA] on-line games on the weekends ONLY and we let them play MMA games on our iPhones if we're out somewhere and need them occupied. Otherwise it's an MMA movie off the USB, ABC 2&3, reading, colouring or playing outside. Apparently we're the ONLY household without any of those things. Unfortunately for my kids, the more I hear that - the stronger my resolve.

Anti pets
I'm not an animal person. They smell. They dribble. They fart. They need food. They whine. They shit. They're like babies without a nappy. There will not be a pet in this household until the kids can look after it and since they still don't wipe their own arse properly, that could be years. This includes fish, birds, crabs and all other suggestions. If it needs to be fed and its house cleaned, it's not welcome here.

Anti sooks
I cannot stand kids who sook. Toughen up princess. Don't come whining to me that you hurt yourself jumping off the top of the swing set. Of course you did. It's called gravity. The sooner you work that out the better. It also hurts when you fall of your bike. When someone takes a 'speccy' off your back. When you jump from bed to bed and miss. When you start a fight with your brother. When you yell at your mother. Actions and consequences son.

Anti lazy
Get outside and do something. Run. Ride. Kick a ball. Play tennis. Swim. Climb a tree. Jump on the trampoline. Skate. Play basketball. Play chasey. Jump off the swing set. If you can't find anything to do outside then I will and you can choose from washing my car, raking the leaves or weeding the vegetable garden. You're young and you're fit and if you're not that would be my fault and that's not gonna happen on my watch. Thankfully, because I'm anti technology, there's not much to do INSIDE so it's not too hard to get them outside. See what I did there??

Anti tuck shop
I've got this thing that kids don't need to be spending money on crap food except for the Royal Show... and even then I'm mean. I grew up in a single parent household with a mum that worked three jobs so there was never any time for a packed lunch. I was so envious of what my other friends brought and I swore I wouldn't send my kids to school with a lunch order. 3 years in and I'm still resisting. It's cheaper and it's better for them. You know they're not buying an apple at the tuck shop right?

Anti pocket money
What the hell are they doing to earn pocket money? Being a good boy? Making their own bed? Having good table manners? Bringing in the bins? They are family expectations in my opinion. I expect them to contribute to this family and this household. I'm not going to PAY them for it. What value could that seriously be teaching them? No. Not paying them until they do something over and above what it expected of them living in a family unit.

Anti dishonesty
I can't stand lying kids. Mine try it on every now and then. It does not go down well... and mum always finds out. Lying includes fibbing, white lies, lying by omission, half truths and however else you want to dress it up. I've done PLENTY of lying in my life. In fact, I'm quite the expert at it so I can tell a mile away when someone's giving it a go. There will be time enough in their life for them to learn the nuances of having a filter and keeping some stuff to themselves. BUT while they're young and still learning and without the maturity to discern that telling your mum you don't like it when she licks a tissue to clean your face because it smells yucky is probably best unsaid... a zero tolerance policy is where I stand.

Anti brats


Well... do you concur and would you like to sign up as a Mean Mum Member too?

This is a true story

I have not cooked my family dinner tonight. I have also not made any other arrangements. I am on family strike.

I'm tired and I'm premenstrual and I worked today. Nothing too stressful and during school hours but it was work nonetheless. I then dropped into a couple of shops on the way home to make arrangements for my HUSBAND'S business Christmas dinner that I am organising. In my spare time. I came home and returned a few emails, made a couple of calls, emptied the dishwasher and then I picked up the kids from school.

And that's when it all went to hell.

"I don't want to go to school tomorrow Mum. I'm too tired"
"Why can't I go on the iPad?"
"It's not fair"
"I don't want to watch THAT I want to watch THIS"
"I don't have ANY homework"
"I have to go on YouTube for my homework"
"I don't want an apple, I want chocolate"
"If he's having chocolate, I want chocolate too."
"I'm not eating dinner"
"You never listen to me"
"I don't want to change out of my uniform"
"I'm not turning the tv down. I can't hear it"
"I don't have to empty out my school bag. You can do it"

All these things were said to me this afternoon. Said with attitude. Lots of school boy attitude. In response to my requests. Cajoles. Demands. Threats.

And then something clicked. 

Remember Sheriff Rambo Harry Down? Well, she just poured herself a big glass of wine and rode into town. Yes, drinking and riding. She's that bad-ass.

"Is that right? Well how about this. You can do whatever you want. I have nothing more to say to you tonight. You can eat what you want. You can do what you want. You both seem to think that you know best. Well let's give that a go."

And I have not said a word to them since. I did not respond when they repeatedly chanted they were going to watch the verboten Harry Potter II. I did not flinch when they ran to the iPad to download whatever it is they covet. I didn't bat an eyelid when they opened a packet of chips for dinner.

Because Mum is on strike and the Sheriff is sitting in the corner, drinking her wine and whistling.

Spring Clean Your Life...

So I have this friend who's a coach. Not a sports coach. A LIFE COACH. Really. She coaches you through your life. Do I sound skeptical? I don't mean to be, but it does sound bizarre doesn't it? 

For those of you who are not yet aware of what life coaching is all about, it's about partnering with someone whose job is to improve the quality of your life, by guiding you through professional and personal matters, such as career, health, personal relationships, etc. It's like your best friend, mum and guidance counselor all in one room... but far less intrusive.

Tania runs Blue Sky Coaching. I like the inference. I like blue skies. They're my favourite sky, in fact. She has a diverse range of clients and starts her coaching with each of them by giving them a personal checklist when they begin. At a recent networking function, she showed us all this check list and suggested we use it at as a spring board to spring clean our lives... y'know being spring and all. This list was broken up into ten true or false statements each in the following subjects:

• work
• finances
• home environment
• health & body
• relationships
• personal

It was one of the quieter functions I have been to as we all read through our lists. There were lots of obvious statements like "I manage my time well", "I have a budget that I use" and "My personal files are in order". Answer 'false' and guess what? Yep, that indicates you need help in that area. Then there was a quiet buzz in the room as we questioned some of the more obscure statements and their relevance to the checklist and our own lives. I found the answers interesting and thought you may find them helpful.

I have had a birthday party in the last two years.

This is an indicator of you acknowledging and celebrating your life. It speaks to your inner happiness and affirmation that you are valuable.

I don't lie or exaggerate.

This is about not feeling good enough and your need to ‘embellish’ to make your life sound like it’s exciting/interesting/worth talking about. But let's face it, that's what Facebook is for.

My bed is always properly made.

This one was interesting to me. Tania says it's about having one more thing 'not done' which could be a very easy fix. It refers to visual clutter. I have to admit that on the days that I have time to make my bed before I leave for work, I feel more in control. Crazy but true.

My bed supports me having a good sleep.

Another bed statement that puzzled me. What difference should this make? Tania explained that this was about taking care of yourself. We spend a lot of time in bed and if it's crappy then our sleep is crappy then we feel crappy so our day is crappy and so it goes on. If your answer is false, get yourself down to Dreamland pronto.

I am happy with my current weight.

Tania says almost every client she has ever worked with ticks false. No real surprises there but it's a sad indictment of our society's self image today. 

Other statements she almost always gets a 'false' for are

I have enough confidence to do what I want in life.
[people tend to underestimate how great they are]

I am comfortable saying no when I need to. 
[that's why so many people are so busy]

I don't acquire clutter. 
[when people are surrounded by clutter it makes it hard to have clarity. They are distracted by stuff]

Tania filled a similar checklist out herself when she first heard about life coaching. She says it was a wake-up call that she deserved to feel better about her life.

For me this whole year has been a wake-up call that I deserve to feel better about my life. Something about the babies leaving home and turning 40 turned a new page for me so that I had already begun my spring clean before I even knew of this list. 

I had a HUGE birthday party. I bought myself a new, gorgeous bed. I'm VERY happy to say no. I've got no idea what my current weight is because I don't believe in weighing myself and we therefore do not own scales. I've just got to get rid of the clutter...

You deserve to feel better about your life too. 

Don't underestimate how great you are xx

NB - this post is in no way sponsored. Tania and Blue Sky Coaching did not ask me to write it. I was just inspired :)

Go ahead... make my day

It’s probably ‘that’ time in my cycle but just lately, my kids have been annoying me. Not the usual, can’t stand that whingeing tone annoying but actually pissing me off. What have I done? Have I really spent the last 7 years raising ungrateful kids? My kids are so fortunate that it’s ridiculous. They have two parents, who live together and who love them entirely. They are extremely well-fed. They are clean. They are warm. They live in a beautiful home filled with more stuff than they could possibly need. They are paid attention. They are paid respect. They are healthy. They are fit. They are smart. They can see. They can talk. They can walk. They go to school every day with their friends and are taught by teachers who are invested in their growth and education. They have extended family who adore them and they have a broad network of family friends who enrich their lives also. They have travelled. By car. By ferry. By bus. By plane. They have a great life so it is infuriating to me when I hear them complain and I’ve had just about enough of it.

I’ve started a new regime in this house and things are gonna change. Yep, parenting is thankless, we all know it. I don’t mind so much that I’m not thanked for being a bloody fantastic mother but I do mind that I have to defend myself, that I have to beg for gratitude for the simplest things. It does not excite me to cook dinner every fucking night of my life. It doesn’t bring me joy. It doesn’t fulfill me as a person. It certainly doesn’t challenge my creative flair as I only have about 12 dishes I can choose from to ensure the entire family will eat healthily and on time. So when I am told ‘I hate this dinner’ I go a little bit Rambo.

"In town you're the law, out here it's me. Don't push it. Don't push it or I'll give you a war you won't believe."

 

When my kids complain that we do not have a Wii, Playstation, DS, Foxtel, X-Box blah, blah, blah as they’re sitting on their leather sofa, watching a DVD from their own personal library on a flatscreen tv playing a game they have downloaded onto my iPhone, my head dips down and I get a bit Dirty Harry.

 

"...you've got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?"

And when I get home from walking them to school in their clean uniforms, with their homework done and the excursion forms signed and their money orders for book club packed neatly in their school bags next to their homemade lunches and I trip over the pyjamas I ask them to put away in their bedroom instead of leaving them on the lounge room floor every fucking morning… well that sends me a little bit Falling Down.

 

"I am not a vigilante... if everyone will just stay out of my way, nobody will get hurt."

I spoke to another mum the other day who is an awesome woman. She’s an entrepreneur and a wife and has four kids. She’s young and dynamic and confessed that she has given up cooking vegetables for her kids. GIVEN UP. What are you kids doing to us? What are we LETTING you do to us?? The nightly battle to get good food into her kids is so hard for this amazing woman that she has surrendered. Cue every other mother’s confession of letting their 5 year old into their bed every night because they’re too tired to take them back to their own bed or bribing their kids with chocolate to keep them quiet in the trolley at the supermarket so they can get 15 minutes peace to buy them good food or giving in to their toddler’s tantrum for whatever it is that they insist they need just because they don’t have the fight in them that day. Our kids are wearing us down. My kids are wearing me down. And I’m not putting up with it anymore.

 

There’s a new sheriff in town boys. And her name is Rambo Harry Down. Don’t mess with her – she’s nuts.