Clothes maketh the school

Monday night and I’m at the Opus Concert, a concert put on by the Department of Education to celebrate musical excellence in our public schools. Hugamuga was in the Chorale and it was a fine concert.

Anyway I’m sitting there next to an older father who also has a daughter at Hugamuga’s school in his year. We do the polite how is your son/daughter finding the school and then it begins:

“Oh well I think they’re pretty slack on the uniform.”

“Mmmm?”
“Have you seen the girls? The skirts so short they look like hookers. Girls wearing stripey socks, I saw a girl smoking in public. It’s terrible. The school should be more strict.”
“And have you communicated this to the school?”

No. He hadn’t.

And there’s my point. Don’t whinge at me if you’re not prepared to do anything about it!

I felt quite disgruntled.

Partly because I hate the no action thing but also because frankly I think he’s right. They could smarten up the uniform just by insisting on “proper” school shoes and dropping the polo shirts which just look slack. They could smarten it up just by insisting the kids actually wear it.

With one child now at a private school and the other at a public school the gulf between the pride in the uniform (and by extension the school) is very obvious. It even affects how I feel about the schools. I’m second guessing my decision to send Hugamuga public despite the sound academic reasons for doing so… and partly it’s because of the uniform.

Which is crazy.

But it does reflect the universal truth that first impressions count. We judge others on the state of their dress. Are his shoes clean? Does the tie clash with the shirt? Could she wear a shorter skirt? Lower cut top? Dowdier cardigan? Why would a school be any different?

Clothes maketh the man, and in this case, the school… and yes, I’m going to contact the school. Because I’m bolshy like that. :)

Journey to the Mid-West

Last weekend I drove up to Geraldton with my dad and two small people, Hugamuga and Dippity. Dad wanted to visit his step-mother, the kids were on holidays, and it was a good chance for me to visit our Geraldton office as well as seeing my step-Grandmother. Now 86.

I thought I’d tell this story in pictures.

We drove up on Saturday. First stop was lunch at a little picnic spot just north of Badgingarra.

We stopped at the old convict bridge, washed away in a recentish flood. I lost my akubra (well Groover’s hat) but luckily had written our name and phone number inside it and the lovely gentleman at the Hampton Arms Inn rescued it for me.

After rescuing my hat, the kids and I decided to visit Greenough’s historic village which was quite well preserved, if a bit dusty. The new cafe is very swish. This is the jail.

A classic Greenough tree. A river gum bent double by the strong winds off the coast.

It is still very dry at Greenough.

My step-grandmother and father in her crowded kitchen. She has two stoves and four fridges, although she only uses two at the moment. I’m making a video of her house - it has to be seen to be believed - so if I get permission - stand by. And yes, you picked it, she is Japanese.

Hers is an interesting story which I will tell when I show you her house.

A sunset view from the house.

The next day the kids discovered the Merry-Go-Round by the Sea, inspired by Randolph Stow’s famous autobiographical novel.

And we visited the memorial to the crew of HMAS Sydney, especially poignant since the discovery of the wrecks and the fact today is after all, ANZAC Day. Now they can, rest in peace.

Ever wondered who lived at the end of the rainbow?

Yes it rained. But the earth seemed so dry as to reject the water. We were a little worried about our night camping but the weather bureau’s radar looked promising so we headed to Cliff Head, via Dongara.

We had to go to Dongara because that’s where my dad built his first solo construction. Aged 13.

Dad went on to become Engineer of the Year and was involved in a great many projects. My favourite is still The Stirling Bridge in Fremantle which was his first project as project manager. I remember going to the opening… ah but that’s yet another story.

So we made it to Cliff Head. Camping to my kids means marshmellows:

And to my dad, means fishing:

He used to fish here with his mum and dad.

We slept on the beach which wasn’t as successful as we hoped given the bright moonlight and my Dippity falling ill and the next day mooched our way home, stopping on the way at the Pinnacles Desert near Cervantes.

It was my dad’s first ever visit to this famous West Australian tourist destination.

And it was my first visit too. I’m not sure why they are such a popular tourist destination…

PS: I didn’t break a nail til I came home and did the washing. Meh.

PPS: Here’s where all the photos live.

When to let your teenager off the leash

Today is Hugamuga’s Independence Day.

This is Hugamuga in 2002, a somewhat younger version - aged 8, I wouldn’t have let him go alone at this age. :)

Today, he met his friends on the train, travelled to Adventure World (two trains and a bus), enjoyed the day with his mates and returned home. He was responsible for organising himself, his money and his lunch. I did ask that he ring me when he left home so I knew he was on the road (and could begin worrying). He’s 13.

It was a scheme dreamed up by his friends at school. This one mate worked out the plan and invited his classmates and then whoever showed up showed up. Four showed up.

They had a blast. Roaming Adventure World in a little pack. I asked Hugamuga:

“So is it more fun with there with his mates or his family” (we go every year for a work Christmas party)
“Oh with my family of course!”
“We’ll go anyway…” I say sagely.
“Definitely with my mates!”

Yeah right.

My heart was in my mouth. Sure it’s just a mum cutting another of the apron strings (guffaws of laughter from friends imagining me wearing an apron), another step towards independence… but it was a milestone.

Not that I wrap the kids in cotton wool. I’ve let them walk to the corner shop on their own for years. I encourage them to walk to school, to their friends houses. Hugamuga rides his bike to training on his own…

Two trains and a bus.

W00t.

The baby name wizard’s name voyager

Name Voyager is a fun web-gadget. You just type in your name and the wizard tells you how popular it’s been over the ages.

So my little family in order of number of times the name was used per million babies born today:

Cellobella!

Ranked in the top 25/1000 in 2006.

Then Hugamuga:

No 371 in 2006.

This is Groover:

Ranked 826 in 2006.

And finally Dippity:

Not in the top 1000 since the 1960s.

Emily is the most popular girls’ name in 2006, and for boys? Jacob. The lists.
Naming trends… did you know that hundreds of babies are named “Unique” in the US every year? Poor darlings.

Warning: This is a BIG timewaster!

How long should it take to name a child?

There is a high profile person in Perth who has recently become the father to a healthy baby girl (as opposed to a fully grown one). She is beautiful and the mother is by all accounts a very lovely and organised person.

The baby was born on the 14th March and to date the babe is not named.

Now there are probably very good reasons for that. Who knows what is going on with them.

But I find it hard to imagine going three weeks without naming my babes. I think I took one look at my babes as they were laid on my chest and said “Welcome to the world little Hugamuga/Dippity”, barely seconds old.

With Hugamuga we’d had a tulmultuous time… first births often are. I’d gone into labour two days before and after getting to 8cm and having my waters broken in the home birth centre at the hospital it was decided to transfer to the hospital proper - so I could have an epidural and a rest.

Things didn’t proceed well - the baby was posterior and presenting the widest part of his head - and I was transferred from the labour ward to theatre, prepped for an emergency caeser and they tried first to suction him out… yep, I got the cut.

I was pretty high on drugs at this point but what I remember is that the doctor was pulling on the suction thingy and the bed started going with it. The brakes weren’t on!

Then we heard a loud sucky sound and we thought - omg! Here he/she comes! Then there was a loud theatrical “pop” and the suction cap fell off and the doctor went flying.

The monitoring equipment went wild and it was decided they couldn’t wait for a caeser - they just had to rip him out. The student midwives observing at the back of the room visibly winced as the forceps went in and Hugamuga came out. (that’s not a good sign)

He scored 4 on his first apgar, and 8 on his second. He looked like a little blue frog with a squashed nose and bruises on his head both where the suction cup had been and by his ears - like sideburns - where the forceps were clamped. But he was okay. Safe. Yes a rocky landing but the plane didn’t crash. I was lucky.

Meanwhile at the other end of the bed the doctor was busy practicing his needlepoint. Third degree tear. 40 stitches. Please remember I’m still very high on drugs. “So you won’t be able to have sex for two months and you’ll need to take laxitives regularly for 6…” sew sew sew… “Oh,” says I, “So I guess anal sex is out of the question?” The midwives glare at Groover. I was joking! I think I’m hysterically funny. “Don’t distract the doctor darling”, says Groover, “you need him to concentrate at the moment…”

But I digress what were we talking about again???

That’s right. Names.

I don’t think I’m especially well organised but I did have the name thing organised. We’d agreed on both a boys and a girls name for Hugamuga… he would have been Madeleine if a girl.

And for Dippity we had a deal, Groover got to name the baby if a boy - Declan (hmmm not so much) - and I got to name her if she was a girl, which happily, she was. But again no delay.

So (finally) here’s my question. Did it take you a while to name your babies?

And if so, why?

Religious reasons perhaps? You’re the Crown Prince of Denmark maybe? You had the baby unexpectedly early?

I’d love to know your story…

What is it with boys and holes?

We arrived in Dunsborough yesterday.  Perfect blue skies.  Perhaps slightly on the warm side.

The house we are staying in is on a bush block.  Tuart and Marri trees, some dying back.  Grasstrees (once known as Blackboys) abound, their fruiting spikes now dry and sometimes broken.  Prickly bushes in the low scrub. 

The decking out the front looks out through the bush, over the flats (once farmland, now housing estates) to Geographe Bay.  At night with the full moon, the bay gleams silver.

We go for a walk to look around the property and when we get back I find the patio umbrella and go to put it on the decking so we can sit in the shade and take in the birdsong.

There is a grasstree spike in the umbrella stand.

WTF.

Hey some idiot has put a grasstree spike in the umbrella stand, I exclaim, never thinking for a second it would be one of my kids.

It was Hugamuga.  13 years old.

What were you thinking?  I say with some disbelief in my voice.

I dunno… it was there.

I throw my hands in the air. 

Well you’d better work out how to get it out of there, my boy, and while you’re there please reflect on the wisdom of filling holes with what comes to hand just because they are there.

If you do that when you start going out with girls, the consequences could be dire!

After all, there’s nothing like a little teenage embarrassment to drive a point home.

And you’ve got to admire my ability to get a sexual responsibility message across at every opportunity.  :)

photo credit: oceanic

Kerching! Hugamuga hits pay dirt

Talking about tertiary education with 13-year-old Hugamuga this evening, Groover was asking what areas of interest Hugamuga was considering at this early stage.

In previous years it’s been botany botany botany.  Take this early exchange aged 4.

Me:  (To The Poshi’s Son - Hugamuga’s friend) What do you want to be when you grow up?

TPS:  A power ranger!

Me:  And what do you want to be Hugamuga?

Hugamuga:  A flower arranger.

Bless.

Today’s answer included a subject we didn’t expect:  Geology.

Kerching!!

A geologist in Western Australia?  That’s a career that will take you places.

(Botany is still up there though)

A little bit of housekeeping

You might have noticed Hugamuga’s comment in the sidebar. That’s my son. Also known as The Orchid Hunter. However I’ve decided to adhere to his online preference and call him by his online handle.

Hugamuga came from a friend of his in primary school - I’m not sure if this friend had looked up the meaning but in fact he was spot on, for Huggermugger means random and disorderly and that, my dear friend, sums up my darling boy. :)

So while I’m updating handles - Junior Poshi will now be referred to by her preferred online handle Dippity, which I think comes from Serendipity, a movie she was quite keen on. In fact we are hoping to visit the Serendipity Cafe while in New York.

Americans do food well

We went out to lunch yesterday at some restaurant whose name we can’t remember but was just outside Stamford mall - oh yes we went to a mall - and decided that Americans do do food well. Sure the portions are big but the service is great, the food is delicious and the restaurants cosy. On top of that it’s relatively cheap. Groover and I had meals yesterday that would have cost around $20 a plate in Perth for half that.

I can see weight gain could be an issue.

But as well as they do food well, the coffee is lousy.

Trying to explain to someone in Starbucks that what you want is a long expresso style coffee - impossible! Of course saying “a long black” which is what we call it in Australia is out of the question. I am missing my Saeco… :(

In the meantime we’ve experienced another aspect of American culture: The doctor’s surgery. My Orchid Hunter has a very nasty flu. Feverish, heavy cough, sleeping for nearly two days solid - he feels terrible and when you have a houseful of 12 people you want it sorted out quickly.

My sister has found this great doctor. Here’s how it works for her. He charges an annual fee of around US$1500 per child. For that fee you get a doctor who is prepared to see you anytime. This guy will come to their home. He will go with you to specialists. If your kid breaks his arm at school he’ll go to the school and sort it out. He only wants a maximum of 300 patients and that means he can really take care of your child when the child needs him.

For my sister, whose eldest daughter has had needed a lot of medical care, Dr Eric is their lifesaver. And the surgery is a delight! I wanted to be sick and a child again. Check out the photos of the different exam rooms filled with murals and fun lazer lights.

Hugamuga sat on a hippo couch while Dr Eric spoke to him and explained what he was doing. He was so engaging. He did a test for strep throat and told us how it worked - like a pregnancy test - in simple terms that made us understand without making us feel thick. An excellent experience. Brilliant.

Having the whole family in one house is lovely. The house is big enough that we have our own space - indeed my sister - Aussie to the core - calls out “Cooee” to find her kids, and it is nice to have time to make Christmas together.

The two girls and their Uncle - my bro - have already put on a Christmas play. My sister - must make up a name for her soon - has a little theatre in the basement, and as you can see in the photo below they went to some trouble with their costumes. Poshi Junior is Father Christmas, Bear - her cousin - is Rudolf and Uncle Banana is naughty Vixen.

The best bit was JP throwing her hands up and saying “Poof” whenever she wanted the scene to end. Hilarious. And “Poof” has become the new word of this Christmas.

Today we go to a foodstore where there are singing vegetables. You gotta love America!

Last day of childhood

My beautiful boy turns 13 tomorrow.

He is very excited to be turning 13 on Election Day. I think we should have “party pies” in celebration.

Geddit?! Party pies!

*chortle*

Have a great day my beamish boy!

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