Tag Archives: teenagers

Dippity, Extracurricular, Hugamuga

Summer jobs

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He's graduated
Finished school

School is finished.

And wow.  I am now the parent of a nearly at university student.

But before that happy day – hopefully – of a decent ATAR result and an offer to the preferred course – Science at UWA – the pocket money has been cut off.

Now you might scream “Fair crack of the sauce bottle!  Give the guy a break, he’s just finished 12 grueling years of school…”

Stop it.

A summer job is good for him.

Independence.

A bit of money, certainly more than I’m prepared to give him.

Respect.

Something to do.

And he’s not alone.

Joining him in the workforce is Miss 14, who has been busy handing out resumes to local businesses and prospective babysitting clients.

My daughter
Babysitter and Waitress

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Since being on holidays she’s continued her Saturday morning waitressing job and done some work for a friend assisting at a holiday program for 4-7 year olds.

She’s good with kids.

(must get it from her paternal grandmother… sorry mum)

And how much does she like spending the money she’s earning?!!!

The only downside?

I don’t get a say in how she spends it.

A small price to pay.

So summer jobs.

They can be crap.

I spent a couple of summers photocopying in an engineering library…

But the pay packet is delicious.

And anyone who stays at home… well.

I have chores that need doing.

Etiquette, Hugamuga, Parenting

On not inviting girls

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Bloody hell - can I go now?

This is my boy, pre-ball.

My creation.

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?

Probably right.

But I wanted him to feel good and look good.

I wanted him to feel special, coz you know… he is.
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And besides…

The lads

How gorgeous do they look?

And he’ll wear that suit again.

Hopefully.

Travelling in style

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.

Or maybe…

Maybe these boys are lucky they don’t go to an all-boys school.

Yeah.

Then they’d have had to ask someone!

Extracurricular

The stratification of a Zumba class

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A lame photo of my zumba shoes... well I was desperate for an illustrative pic,

Following yesterday’s post on my Zumba class, I received an email teasing me about being at the back of the class and it occurred to me that my Zumba class has very clear stratification.

The hard core Zumba-ists are at the front.

They know the routines backwards, they are for the most part – fit, and in halls where there are mirrors – they like to have a clear view of their hips shaking.

The HCZ’s are the ones that volunteer to go on stage.

And they ALWAYS arrive early.

Next come the MILFS (or maybe that should be MYLFS).

These are the women whose eyesight, perhaps, requires them to be nearer the front, and who are less confident in their sexy moves… or less fit.

They are quite often late because they are busy on a Saturday morning sorting everyone else out.

But they are past being embarrassed about shaking their thing.

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Well, nearly everything.

They rarely lift their shirts in the wooah wooah bit.

Behind them, at the back are the said children, now teenagers.

They are chatting with their support buddies, and their perfect bodies and natural enthusiasm make up for any shortfall in following the choreography.

Last week I found myself at the back of the class (I was late,  having failed to convince my teenager that a Zumba class would be fun).

I was out of my comfort zone.

Next time, I’ll make sure I get a spot in MILFworld.

Oh and the only bloke?

He’s about second row – hard bodies in front, and close to the instructor.

Dippity, Parenting

You may as well tell me…

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I’ll just look it up on Google if you don’t…

Picture of Dippity with her hand under her chin looking thoughtful.

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”.

What’s libido?

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Tell me.  I’ll just look it up if you don’t… and I don’t really want to see the pictures…

Good point.

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…

Books, Dippity

Angels are the new vampires

I’m in Dunsborough with most of my family and some friends and as usual it’s the normal round of sleeping, drinking, eating and reading. 

Oh and playing cards.

My daughter has worked out that I’m a soft touch as long as she intends to buy a book so today we went down to the town to check out the bookstores.

What are you looking for?  I ask sweetly.  Something with vampires?
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Duh, mum, no.  She scoffs.

Angels are the new vampires.

Right.

So now I’m reading the book she was reading on the way down which is indeed about angels (Hush Hush by Becca Fitzpatrick) because I reckon in two years time we’ll be going to Angel movies.

Dippity, Family, Hugamuga

A little perspective

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I took this photo down on the foreshore of the river a few days ago.

Yes that’s my 14 year old – year 10 boy – sitting on the shoulders of his 11 year old – year 7 sister.

She’s almost as tall as him too.

It works rather well to have the boy first I’ve decided.

Boys tend to lag behind the girls in the development department – or girls mature faster – so they end up much closer in physical age than if the order was reversed.

Of course it means Groover and I have to continually remind ourselves that Dippity is only 11 – which is tough when she behaves like a sulky teenager.

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Lazy sometimes and then you remember that you aren’t always the bundle of energy you’d like to be either. Shhh but don’t tell them that.

This year, Hugamuga has moved into the senior school and Dipp is now in middle school.  Both I think are relishing the change.

I even spied Hugamuga doing homework tonight – without being asked.  Impressive.

I feel blessed.

It was a tough day at work today but coming home to my little family felt good.

And the Singah beer did too. 🙂

Dippity, Hugamuga, Introspection, Parenting

No going back

6 Comments

How did I look after my two kids when they were little?

Yesterday, we picked up the younger cousins (4 & 3) for a sleepover.  My sister-in-law needed some free time to pack as they are moving house soon.

The big cousins are fantastic with them.  Hide and seek, mudworld, swimming, they are like built-in au pairs who look after the two littlies with good grace and humour.

Within an hour of getting home yesterday, in the middle of the first game of hide and seek though, the 3 year old started crying, holding her neck.

There was no blood but she was in a lot of pain and couldn’t be comforted.

We all packed into the car and went to see the doctor who prescribed Painstop and thought she must have strained her neck, like whiplash.

It did put a damper on things but Dippity remembered the chocolate icecream we’d bought and the Princesses DVD and 3 decided that she wanted to stay on the sleepover!

Dippity was brilliant at cuddling her and distracting her from the pain.  Brilliant.

Of course I rang her mum to let her know of the drama but that 3 seemed okay if sore.

The rule with children is “never wake a sleeping child”, we all know that, but because of the suspected head injury the doctor advised that we should. 
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So we did, and she cried, so we gave her some more medicine and took her for a wee and she went back to sleep.

In the morning she was fine.  Her neck still stiff and putting a tee-shirt on and off painful, but smiling and wanting to go for a swim.

(We rang mum to tell her she was better, and mum reported a lovely sleep-in)

Today we’ve had mudworld, a swim, a tv show and now they are walking to the DVD library for a movie (we’re hoping it will tire them out a bit).

I’ve got 20 minutes to write this and reflect, maybe finish a cup of tea.

You know, I don’t think I could look after little ones again full-time.  They are exhausting!  Little balls of never-ending energy.  

I’d forgotton how you become the entertainment machine – always thinking ahead to the next activity, the next snack, the next meal.

It makes me appreciate my teenagers.  Sure, sometimes you only get the odd grunt out of them but they are self sufficient.

And I especially appreciate how good they are with their small cousins.

House

My Space – seriously kid unfriendly

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We are lucky enough to have a granny flat out the back of our place called affectionately The Cabana.  As we don’t have a shed it comes in handy as a place for storing all that stuff that somehow accumulates when you’ve lived in the same house for ten years.

The camping equipment is under our old queen sized bed.  There are boxes of books that I’ve given up trying to find a shelf for but can’t bear to give away.  Dress ups, my cello, a guitar, two single beds, a sofa bed, an old desk, more camping equipment, luggage, the bicycles, a trunk of Groover’s sister’s stuff, fishing stuff, carpet cuts, unused appliances, gardening gear, a set of boules, several paintings and the old telly.  I’m sure you have a similar space at your place.

In the last few years, every six months or so I’ve cleaned it up so the kids to entertain their friends.  The telly is linked to a dvd player and they can lounge around talking rubbish and not disturb us… but no more.

It’s supposed to also be the spare room for guests but after my two and their friends have been there – the guests don’t really have much of a hope finding the bed.
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I’ve decided as they NEVER clean it up, I’m going to reclaim it for me.  It is now Myspace.

I’ve had the sewing machine fixed up and I now can – theoretically – do some sewing projects.

I’ve fixed the telly so I can watch videos as I sew or type in blissful peace, playing my music… should I wish to.

Some may say it’s selfish.  I say they should have bloody cleaned up!