Beautiful boy

 

My boy lollipop

 

gold panning

 

Train to Sovereign Hill

 

More farm action

 

At Uncle Murdoch's farm

 

At Uncle Murdoch's farm

 

Top bunk joy

 

On the farm

 

In the truck

 

New puppies!

 

Ole goo eye

A quick update: Ari has conjunctivitis and a cold.
We are dealing with this with thanks to the wonders of Bleph10, Dr Flood and a steady diet of Rage - yesterday we watched Tricky program Rage and it was ace.

Scene from a Saturday morning...

Me: Come and listen to this Ari (Ramones' Blitzkrieg Bop on 3RRR).
Ari: (Pauses). That sounds like the Clash, Mama.

We couldn't have been any more proud if we tried.

What we're...

Ari

Reading: "Dog Biscuit's House" book, I Wish That I Had Duck Feet.

Watching: Poko, Wallace and Gromit's The Wrong Trousers.

Listening to: Amy Winehouse, MGMT.

Carla

Reading: When You Are Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris.

Watching: The West Wing - almost through season one. Project Runway Australia - as hard as I try, it just aint as good as Heidi, Tim and co.

Listening to: Black Francis.

A political rant

I don't normally get political on this blog. But something I read in The Age in the past couple of days has set my blood boiling.
It concerns the State Government's decision to order public hospitals to stop admitting mums and babies with breastfeeding or settling problems.
This story highlights an alarming trend - government encourages people to have more babies + gloats about its baby boom - but fails to deliver on any kind of new services to support said new babies.
While family reporter at the Herald Sun, I wrote a story on the blowout of waiting lists for sleep schools - back then it took MONTHS for desperate, sleep-deprived parents to even get near a public sleep clinic in Melbourne. If that's not depressing enough, the recent breastfeeding help debacle is enough to make me want to storm parliament.
It's small things that can make a huge difference in the early stages of parenting. Just a couple of hours spent with a lactation consultant can lead to a "hallelujah" moment when what only hours ago was painful and impossible is now possible.
A week in a sleep school can change the entire livelihood of a family.
I don't want to appear to be whingeing, but it seems this government is struggling under the weight of a crush for services. And as a person who uses the metropolitan train system, I honestly do mean crush.

Scene from a dinner table

Rob: Every time I blew my nose today I filled a hanky. Honestly, I really don't know where all that stuff comes from...
Ari: I think it would come from your nose, Dadda.

Scene from a Subaru

Ari: Mama, I thought you were going to drive off and leave me!
Me: Darling, I would never, ever leave you.
Ari: But one day I might leave you. Then Dadda will look after you.

Goin' military

Every now and then I have the urge to go military on some parents. Just stand in front of them and yell, like the drill sergeant in Full Metal Jacket.

It happened the other day at a local supermarket.

A father with his two young daughters – both under the age of five – were hanging out in the toy/magazine aisle and appeared to be picking up toys and books and playing with them.

As I browsed through the magazines, I overheard his desperate pleas to move them all along.

“Please put that down darling,” he’d whisper.

“Come on, it’s time to go,” he’d plead, barely audible, then (bizarrely, I thought) under his breath would mutter “Oh, I hate the supermarket” and “Daddy is going to go insane if we don’t go soon.”

The girls were not being brats, but they were simply not responding to his feeble attempts to get them to do what he wanted.

It was a good three or four minutes (I was busy browsing Shop Til You Drop) of this that almost prompted me to go military on him. But I did it in my head instead -“for god sake man, grow some balls and tell those kids what for!” I imagined yelling.

I know parenting is hard. Really hard. And Ari is nowhere near the Perfect Child (if, indeed he/she exists). But yeesh, who on earth is in charge here? Some days I wonder...