The Toilet and The male

This week I'm going to try and have a serious discussion about a serious topic. This is for all the blokes and their sons out there who are probably doing untold damage to their respective mothers and partners ( not to mention the environs ) with their behaviour.

Its probably not all intentional, but it is certainly undesirable.

I doubt it will remain serious but hey at least I tried.

I'm talking about the smallest room in the house. I’m talking about the toilet.

The porcelain bus

The big white phone

The dunny

The can

The head

The list goes on but you get what I mean. It's the most visited room in the house but the least talked about ( unless someone is complaining about it )

With the birth of our Sons the beloved knew that toilet training was going to be a challenge. Having put up with my mates and their inaccuracy for years she was ready for the difficult road ahead. It seemed to be resolved the day they were handed cleaning clothes and told to clean their own toilet. 

What is it with us men and toilets ? Why are we seemingly so oblivious to the rest of the world and their feelings ?

It's certainly not a BBQ discussion topic and let’s face it most of the time it’s just a quick whizz and you're off again. 

But sometimes you've been to dinner and your friend /s have used some bizarre ingredient from the back of the cupboard fridge and quite frankly it's not going to resolve itself quickly or easily.

And even if we did discuss it it would probably go something like this " I remember once when I was a kid my friend reckoned his Great Grandma said to him once ""Where is the smallest room in the house ? So he told her. 10 minutes later he found  her in the pantry with her pants down. Insert roaring laughter here.

So are there rules ?

Of course - just as there are rules in regards to gym change rooms ( look only at each other in the eye etc.) , there are rules that our spouses want us to follow

Don’t look at me like that. You heard me the first time.  Your spouse is going to be a whole lot happier if you follow these simple rules.

So below is listed the things I'm told to incorporate in to my life as a male.

1) Fans – Most bathrooms have them already built in to the light switch so it goes on when you turn on the light, but if it doesn't turn it on. No ifs or buts. ( see what I did there)

2) Sprays – I'm a bit divided here. I mean masking the odours is fine but no –one wants their house smelling like a blend Tahitian flowers and animal based compost. So use your judgement on this one.

3) Doors – 1 rule here. Close it. Nuff said.

So there you have it. It’s not that difficult now is it ?

Yet it seems to escape most of us. So in the vain hope my boys will one day read this I'll post it here and hope.

Enough said.

I am not just a wallet and a couch

As I climb out of bed in the dark and traipse off to the kitchen to put on the coffee, the house is quiet and I realise this is what it's going to be like in a few more years. The house is clean. I don't trip over anything and it smells faintly of vanilla.

image courtesy of www.flickr.com and Terry Trevithick

It's just me and the beloved.
Oh, and that idiot dog who gets up to go to the toilet more times that an incontinent grandparent. 

I'm OK with that , I married her because quite frankly we never stop chatting and we have always discussed what it will be like when we retire , what we will do,  where we will go - because I think that as parents we are going  find it difficult staying relevant as the kids get older.

At least until they need to move back home because they are building a house or renovating and have nowhere to live. (At which point I will have to start wearing pants again…..)

So do they still need me ?

Of course they do - who else is going to pay for the 1.2 kg of Weet bix and 15 litres of milk they go through each week. Not to mention the fact that if I wasn't around the would run out of clean plates and cutlery in the first day. And don't even start on the clothes portion of their lives.

I'm not saying that I'm completely irrelevant I'm just saying that there’s a new phase coming and I want to be ready (You know the Beloved, she'll  want a backup plan for the back up plan) because emotionally it's going to be tough.

When I get home each night from work nowadays, there isn't those two cheeky little grins screaming "daddy's home !" , "daddy's home !" and clinging to a leg each as I greet the house, now the only person happy to see me is the dog, and I think that’s because I bring in the smells of the world with me or at least the vague promise of food.

I remember back when, once I hit 15 my parents were the people “so lame” and it wasn't until I was a 20 something that I realised I really do need them and they weren't just some extra furniture that was handy to crash on whenever I felt like it. And that was when I really started to have a proper relationship with them, you know each side putting in and getting out equally. 

We have set about the kids next phase of their life and are starting to make them independent. We can’t wrap them up in cotton wool ( otherwise they will make terrible husbands and live with us forever) they have to learn how to be functioning members of planet earth. We know this.

But it’s happening just so damm fast. They cab catch trams , make lunch and even breakfast. ( none of this gets done without intimidation effort and prompting and guiding.) But anyway they seem to be grasping some concepts.

So I guess for the time being I'll just focus on keeping my expectations low and focus on being there when they need me.

I was at a Rugby match to watch the Eldest and I swear to you the u/15’s team were still finishing shaving whilst getting out of the cars they had driven to the ground – They look like grown men.

image courtesy of www.albany.edu

I point out to the Beloved that this what we have to look forward to and we share a little wistful glance at our youngest son playing under a tree.
While the rest of the world sees a boy poking a dead pigeon with a stick to see what will happen  - we see a little boy still curious about the world.

Tomorrow morning he can have 3 Weet Bix instead of the 6 he normally has, maybe that will slow things down a bit……..

Family death match

I reach out full stretch.

Nothing , its all just air.

Then as fast as conventional physics teaches us, the earth is in my face and catching my hip with all the grace of a hippopotamus falling off a skateboard.

I lie there - the dust swirls gently in the fading sunlight and the sweat trickles off my face mingling with the dirt making little tiny mud puddles. Both of these things are useful in hiding my tears at yet another loss.

At the other end the victor stands, defiant. The Beloved has won.

Another family death match has been decided.

I get up and dust my self off, get a beer and sit down to wait for the pain in my hip to subside. The boys are still laughing.

The eldest declares " time for me to whoop your butt little  man" and with that it's on. Our match is forgotten and the the two boys are at once locked in a similarly intense battle.

The volley ball set we got for Christmas ( the above matches ) really is just part of the long running competitions we are constantly engaged in. We don't mind too much what it is - just that they have to be able to be competitive for all of us , so weight lifting or formula 1 racing are out.

( I am thinking though, we should get a clay target set and some shotguns for next years summer games and only because The Beloved  banned bare knuckle boxing after I dislocated a finger and the youngest went to school with a massive bruise in the middle of his forehead.)

I like the fact that we are competitive. I try and teach the boys that life is like that it's a competition. Not all the time, but lets face it -

You compete for school results
You compete for a Uni place
You compete for a job and your promotions
You compete for all sorts of things

So you need to know how to compete. There are rules.

There are consequences if you act badly during competition.
That's where the fine line and the parental boundaries come in. Time and time again I see parents acting badly during their child's sporting activities and I caution both boys about what is acceptable during sport or indeed any competition - win or lose.

But family death match is different. Anything goes, because sometimes breaking the rules and watching it all burn down is just so much fun.

I still remember the stare and the long silence punctuated by further glaring after, because during a very close game of golf  The Beloved was in front of a bunker with a short pitch shot to get on to the green.

                                                                              image courtesy of www.intotherough.co.uk

Being only 1 shot behind, I thought ooohhhh that's an easy shot , how funny would it be to say

" Tough shot , don't choke".

 Except that instead of saying it in my head I said it kinda out loud. So instead of easily making the shot and wining - the ball hit the bunker and it took another two shots to get out, and the lead was surrendered.

I still have a cute little scar on my knee from her putter.

So as I watch the boys go about their weekend  sports I  am filled with a sense of impending doom. With their bodies slowly lengthening and muscles filling out, it seems inevitable that our my reign at the top of the family death match table will all too soon be over.

Think I'll buy a croquet set next, after all it's only a game  - right ?

Tactics and teenagers

This episode is bought to you by the letter T and the number 6

Ever wondered how some parents seem to be able to get there kids to do things and others just seem to be constantly yelling at their kids ( and each other) ?

Picture this - two meth addict parents with a 3 year old in a stroller are at a major intersection waiting to cross. There are probably 15 other people waiting to cross this road as well. The lights change but the pedestrian lights do not and everybody is forced to wait another set of lights change until the green man is presented and they can all cross.

The mother proceeds to yell at the father all the way across the lights about how "All these fu#@%ers didn't bother to fu@$#en push the fu*%^ button to cross the fu*+!@ lights".
"They were fu%$#en standing there the whole fu&#$%en time and not one of them fu*&^%en tried.

The father is trailing behind her and  is profusely apologising the whole time. They disappear down the road with her still swearing that this is the problem with the world today.

I tell you this story because I didn't stop laughing  for about a day and in fact I still laugh about it. The child in the stroller , with her head rotating furiously from side to side in an effort to see her parents arguing behind her was learning.

She was learning tactics for getting by in the world. Now, you and I both know they are entirely wrong but that's what I'm getting at.

I have found that if you just yell at or nag or berate your child to do something then you are probably either not going to get it done or just end up with a resentful situation.

image courtesy of de.wikipedia.org

Tactics are becoming increasingly important in our lives as well , with a teenager (added hormones included ) and a potential teenager lurking behind him - just watching the interactions.

No longer do mindless incentives work

Pleading does not work

Berating does not work

If / then statements do not always work

However parental unity is still working ( I think this is a fundamental underpin of the universe , so I'm confident it won't change any time soon). As long as we both stay firm with the decisions the desired result is achieved.

I'm finding we have to get to the solution and  make him feel good about himself that the choice is right and he was involved in the trip to get there.

It's delicate as the pressure from being in Year 7 has quadrupled from Year 6 and it's a jungle out there. New kids in the class along with all the other kids jockeying for position. Getting around a larger school area and all of a sudden timing is important as well as having all the right books and equipment.

So no matter how much you prep your child for senior school sometimes the shock of the vastness of the whole thing can be just overwhelming

But we won't tiptoe around it , he has to learn that sometimes no matter what - you have to push on as I don't want him to be afraid of a challenge and I don't want him to grow up risk averse. i.e. if it's too hard or someone tells you its too difficult they give up with out even attempting.


It's the same way we let him let him do what some parents would class as dangerous now days like catching public transport by himself.

Just as you're tired from school / sport it is the same as if you're at work and tired, there are deadlines and expectations.

This of course can be dangerous - its kinda like balancing a hand-grenade on a knife- you know its going to go off you just don't know which direction and when. Especially if you're tired or not 100% focussed on what you doing with them at the time.

And as tempting as it is to tell them how everything will end up or what will happen when the do something you know that  you can tell them until they're blue in the face but until they learn themselves.

On the flip side we have learned that you can, with some degree of success, put 2 minute noodles in a bagel and eat it.

So where do the letter T and the number 6 come in ?

T is for tactics, get them right and you on a winner.

The number 6 is the current number of times you have to ask to get him to brush his teeth and put deodorant on.

The not at all accidental tourist

I can't undo the lid. It's stuck. Has it really been that long ? Finally with an exerted twist the lid comes of the deodorant and with a determined push on the roller I can finally use it.

The holiday is over.

Just like that as soon as it started it seemed to end.

And instead of just posting pictures and comments on activities completed, this time we will critically examine "the Tourist"

image courtesy of  shake-speares-bible.com

Lets start with the driving tourist, their behavior during the holiday is incredible. Why people drive stupidly and do things that during the working week they would never contemplate is beyond me.

- speeding up in the overtaking sections so no one over takes them and then slow back down to 85kph once its back to single lanes
- overtaking in a zone that is beyond dangerous on roads they are not familiar with

You can see the driving holiday tourists everywhere, they are the ones that regardless of the weather their determination to do as much as possible is matched only by their determination to push you out of the way to get then best photo.

Some other more amusing things we noted :

- You should not get your son to go for a run if you are only going to follow him in the car with the dog hanging out the window

- I still don’t know how you can run and chew gum at the same time without choking to death on the first hill

- The attitude of small business owners in small towns ranging from the over friendly to the” I prefer it when there are no people around “

and yes I will charge $1.77 for a litre of petrol because you actually need it.

I was however delighted to see that the speed which kids form new relationships hasn't waned as they grow older. That's one thing I hope the guys never grow out of.

I did note after arriving home from a Farmers market one Sunday morning that once again I had fallen for the "try this it's great - you'll love it" and bought another unusual sauce which will spend the the next 3 years in the cupboard right next to the exotic stir fry oil.

I also realised I was not going to get as much of that stick peperoni  I bought as I discover the kids hacking off large chunks 10 minutes after it arrived home. But at least their palates are going to be expanded.

So as the holiday drew to an end and we all shared our favorite moments, we did discover an interesting fact - that you can deliver bad news to anyone if straight after you burst into the Benny Hill theme.

Go on try it....

Sorry sir you have Hydrophobia - da da da dadada na nana etc......

And at the end of 2012 time for thanks

It’s Boxing Day 2012 and I am sitting in the sun just enjoying the day. We left early for our summer holiday and I have not regretted a thing. The only people on the road were us and the highway patrol looking bored. I felt like stopping each time we saw them and doing a breath test and other checks for them so they weren't so bored. Mind you over the next couple of weeks they will be sorely tested by people not concentrating and just thinking in general “it won’t happen to me”

 I however have now survived

42 Christmases as a human being

15 Christmases as a husband

and 12 Christmases as a Dad.

I have cherished every one of them including the time when I was ten and my parents bought me a Kiss - Gene Simmons doll complete with high heel boots.

Christmas can be a difficult time for everybody. Firstly with all the political correctness gone mad do you even say Merry Christmas any more or is it Happy Holidays ?

Personally I like “ Happy Thank Goodness we made it through another year”. But that’s just me.

Secondly what is with the mad rush to all of a sudden catch up with people you haven’t seen all year ?  If you didn't get to visiting them during the year then they can’t be much of a priority then can they - so why all of a sudden at Christmas ?

Any way every Christmas you get to spend with the people you love is always a good thing because the alternative is crap.

 As I think back about 2012 I always ask the one question that defines my actions – if I had the time over, would I do anything differently ?

Probably not. I might say to The Eldest – hey watch out today you’ll probably fall of the playground and break your arm but that’s about it.

The year ahead looks full of promise with The Eldest going into senior school and beginning the journey towaeldest going into senior school and beggining rds becoming a man and hopefully a productive member of society. The youngest has his favorite teacher back so for once he is looking forward to school. He does still tend to over worry about things (which he gets from me) but I think we can work through that one.

My health kick has survived the roll over from 2012 and the 5^th buckle hole on my belt is now tantalizingly close so I am spurred on to continue.

And I have a lot to give thanks for heading into this new year – especially you my loyal readers, who throughout the year have helped motivate me and constantly supported my sometimes odd post timings, without you there would be no blog, so from the bottom of my heart a huge Thank you to you all and Happy 2013 !

Am I ready ? I mean really ready ?

As they all march on to the thin stage the spotlights make some of the boys blink and squint out in to the audience to try and see better / someone they know. They shuffle awkwardly and itch at inappropriate places, their bodies caught in that time that's almost changing them into teenagers but leaving their minds still filled with wild imagination fueled fun.
They literally have attention spans that can only be measured by the sorts of equipment required to build the Large Hadron Collider.

As they describe their experiences, in getting to this glorious point, I try hard not to allow my brain to take me back to the same era - Grade 6.
The eldest is going though the last remaining days of Primary School and there is lots of pomp and ceremony interspersed with good advice and re-assurances that support is around, you just have to ask.

Whom to ask and about what is not quite apparent -  but you get the idea.

School is not an easy place, its supposed to be the safest place to become correctly prepared for the world at large. Each child is raised carefully by a combination of the school and the parents with both complimenting each other.

Well that's the theory anyway.

I'm the last person to be preaching this, I was a terrible student. There are things I did at school that still can not be told in public because once it gets out or on the Internet it will get out of hand. I did not fulfill the true definition of school until much later in life.

But now that the eldest has completed junior school he apparently is ready for the next set of challenges.

What about his parents are they ready ?

When they are babies you look at them without worrying about  future problems - that will all come later. When they are babies their needs are simple (well that's how I choose to remember it)

Feeding - Burping - Cleaning up vomit - you get the idea.

The problems are solvable, Do we have enough nappies ? Do we have the house quiet enough for them to sleep ? Is it the middle of the night and do they need comforting ? Is the food in the baby or on the floor and wall ?

See ! All solvable.

Now that he's a teenager it changes.  I mean - I hope he can clean up his own vomit but that's the least of my worries.

Have I kept up with the latest trends ? Do I even know what's cool right now ?

Do I have a computer / console  that will play the latest games? nothing worse than having old technology apparently. And the fact that he has to share it with the rest of us constantly stuns him.

Have I or the beloved ensured he leaves the house dressed at  least semi decently ? No Son that tracksuit and top are not OK you look homeless. You have a wardrobe full of nice clothes , go and try again.

And no you can not eat last nights pasta/rice for breakfast (well not in front of your mother). You have to have a decent breakfast.

All these problems get easier to solve once you have seen them a few times but then - Unexpected ones arise as if he has decided the game is too repetitive and needs new boundaries.
It's like getting up in the middle of the night -  You know you are going to stub your toe , you just don't know when or on what.

So as they all march off the stage, their certificate grasped in their fists, I hope their parents are ready.....