Off to her year 11 Dinner Dance.
Just a quickie for those of you with babies who are hard to settle.
A colleague of mine swears by an app called White Noise.
He says he uses it at home and has fed it through his car stereo and his 8 week old falls asleep in minutes.
And looking at the website – it works for adults too.
I went back to my old college – St George’s – today.
Partly to beg, plead and plunder for my son who would dearly love to follow the family tradition (I think) and go to the college himself this year as he studies his science degree at UWA, but also just to walk the halls and remember those “good old days”.
I don’t think I’m alone in this.
I’m pretty sure my dad, who also went to St George’s and indeed was Senior Student, also pops by to feel that red brick memory soak right in.
Maybe, just maybe, it’s no coincidence that the house I grew up in and the house I have now lived in for 13 years is also red brick…
“It’s hard to tell how much the student actually wants to come here… and how much of it is the parent wanting the student to live here.” says the acting warden – a charming man – when I visited today.
I’m sure, I murmur politely as my eyes tear up looking out his window to the old sub-warden’s cottage.
The cottage where I and a young Groover sat listening to our priest deliver pre-marriage lessons.
“I hate weddings”, was the line I remember best.
“In-laws and children. You need to agree on what you want to do about those and you’ll be alright.”
Well I want my children to go to residential college. And if at UWA that means St George’s.
But does my son?
I’m so excited for him, accepting his offer of a place today, the prospect of studying at UWA with his friends is brilliant.
In fact he has many more friends going to uni than I did back in the day, it must be like going on a giant road trip.
I confess I am jealous.
And yes, living somewhat vicariously.
Maybe that’s why I’m so keen on this idea of doing a post-grad degree in Archeaology….
So I had a tour of the college, and noted the changes.
Not sure I like the modern tables in that lovely old library but maybe I need to get over that…
I’m sure I didn’t help my son’s chances of getting in one iota.
But I hope.
I REALLY hope.
They offer him a place.
(And that’s if he wants to go. Not that I’ll love him any less if he doesn’t. )
Update: They did and he did! Now ensconced at St Georges.
This is my boy, pre-ball.
Well mostly mine.
Okay okay he had a bit to do with it.
Oh and Groover.
But for tonight?
That’s mostly me.
With my boy’s agreement.
Y’know a lot has been said about how expensive girls can be when it comes to the Year 12 ball but I found myself forking over huge wads of cash.
Suit, shirt, shoes, tie… haircut.
Okay admittedly the haircut was a bargain.
I don’t know.
I didn’t think I’d care so much.
How hard is it being a boy – turn up in any old suit and you’ll look good right?
But I wanted him to feel good and look good.
I wanted him to feel special, coz you know… he is.
How gorgeous do they look?
And he’ll wear that suit again.
Interestingly lots of the boys didn’t invite girls to the ball.
They go to a co-ed school and I guess they figured girls would be there anyway.
Still I was a bit disappointed.
I think a lot of the girls would have liked to have been asked.
And I bet there were a few who wished one of these lads had asked them.
But maybe not.
Maybe I’m just old-fashioned.
Maybe these boys are lucky they don’t go to an all-boys school.
Then they’d have had to ask someone!
Just a video today.
This is one of my favourites from my daughter’s early days.
Here she’s about 14 months old.
A determined wee lassie.
Many people can’t watch this film without wincing.
I’m not sure what it says about my parenting style but I can assure you that no children – or for that matter teacups – were hurt in the making of this video.
I hope you love it.
This is why.
Ah the follies of youth.
Of course none of us would go outside in the Perth sunshine, well known for its lethal properties and expose our skin to within an inch of the burns unit.
Well not without letting someone we trust apply the sunblock.
My poor baby has been in pain for four days and scratching for another four following this fun day at the beach.
We’re hoping she learns from this experience.
Imagine having bloggers as parents…
No, not the school, me.
The question read something like this:
Sam went to a restaurant, he had the choice of two entrees, three main courses and two desserts. Pate and pumpkin soup for the entrees, steak, chicken and beef for main course and icecream and chocolate cake for the desserts. What is the probability that Sam would choose soup and chocolate cake?
The correct answer is 1 in 4 but unfortunately my son had no idea what pate was (see image on the right if you are unsure… no, not the bread).
He thought “pate” might be “some kind of random gourmet product you might turn into soup”.
In other words he thought BOTH entrees were soup.
Knew I should have made him eat pate!
This is why feeding expensive, overpriced gourmet foods to your children from an early age is important if you want them to do well at school.
Bless him, he’s asked the teacher to restore his marks on the basis that the question was ambiguous.
Note: Hugamuga would like to point out that their was no illustrative photograph with the words “Pate de Foie” on the test.
I love this photo – my two gorgeous ones laughing and enjoying being kids on a swingy roundabout.
But they won’t be able to do that again.
The fun police – the wrap your children in cotton wool brigade – have decided that it’s too dangerous.
I’m in Geraldton and I discover to my SHOCK that the Merry Go Round by the Sea otherwise known as the 50 cent swing has been clamped to the ground!
Where is the fun in that I ask you???
It’s a seat.
Not happy. (despite the photo)
I asked my daughter what it was about me that makes me a good mother (yes it’s always about me) and she said:
- You set boundaries but give us the freedom to make mistakes
- You talk with us like we’re real people, not children
- You let us make mistakes and are there when we do
And that’s the best mothers’ day present of all.
I have teenagers now.
And you know what?
I love them even more.
They are so interesting.
So like me. (and Groover)
How did that happen?
Am I like my parents?
I hope so.
Happy Mothers’ Day mum and to all mums out there.
I’ll just look it up on Google if you don’t…
So said my daughter last night. My 12 year old.
Groover and I were talking about this low carb diet that we’re on.
Apparently one of the known side-effects is an increase in libido.
There’s even been a book written about it.
(men around the world suddenly start advocating the benefits of a low carb diet to their wives – less weight – more sex)
Anyway we’re talking obliquely about this in the way that you do around children and Dippity picks out the word “libido”.
Tell me. I’ll just look it up if you don’t… and I don’t really want to see the pictures…
Remember in the olden days when we as children looked up words (if we could spell them) in a dictionary.
You remember – they were big thick books with words in lists.
It’s a different world my friend.
We chose to tell her what libido meant.
And gone are the days when we could spell out words to hide the meaning from our kids.
They were good days…