The Great Black Hole of Kindergarten

Although my brain still says Groundhog Day and Black History Month, here in the southern hemisphere February means back to school time. And this year, we hit the big time: big school. Full. Day. Kindergarten. And can I just say ‘WOOOOOOO-HOOOOOO!’? I no longer have three at home. I made it. I survived.

Let me tell you, it has been no small feat having full-time responsibility for a diva, as any of Naomi Cambell’s handlers will gladly confirm. Eva was and continues to be the most work of my three children. This had been something I thought would subside as she aged and matured (read = ‘mellowed’); but this is not to be. This past year in the run up to school has been a lot about my acceptance of who she is – I was reluctant to realise that some of the traits she has I cannot punish, beat or time-out out of her. She is her own woman already. So the give and take continues.

The first day of school was a day that seemed to forever loom large and far away and I was as keenly aware of it as a man on death row is of his doomsday. However, unlike that man on death row, my counting down was in no way melancholy, or full of sorrow, regret, or any of those other therapy-inducing emotions. Oh no. Mine was pure excited anticipation, as was hers. I was ready and more importantly, so was she.

I remember my own first day of kindergarten. I had no nerves and was excited. When I got there and I saw kids screaming, clutching mom’s legs, my antennae went up: what did they know that I didn’t? Why the tears? And for Eva and I, it wasn’t nearly as emotional as it is for some. In the lead up and even on the actual day, I kept waiting to feel wistful or have that ‘It’s the end of an era’ feeling wash over me. But it didn’t. In fact it was so easy that I almost started to feel a little guilty that I wasn’t sad or it wasn’t more difficult for one of us to let go. But all I felt was relief – and no one had prepared me for that.

Now, three weeks in, I realise that I also wasn’t prepared for how shut out I am from her secret school life – and maybe that’s why I didn’t know to be sad. Without going all cheeseball Hallmark card, it really is the first letting go milestone. And as I’ve quickly discovered, I also cannot be there to solve every problem, fight every battle, supply every answer.

With preschool, although I wasn’t there, I would come at the end of the day and have a look in the giant book the teachers had pieced together during the day: ‘Today we discussed fairies. We drew pictures of fairy homes. Sally asked, “What do fairies like to eat?”’ etc. Plenty of material there. I had inroads. I had discussion starters.

Now? Well, now I got nothin’. All that’s in my arsenal of questions is ‘How was school today?’ You can guess the answer to that one. My other question is, ‘What did you do in school today?’ Here are some actual discussions (or not) about the goings-on from our first few weeks.

Day One
Me: How was it?! Was it fun?
Eva: It was the best day EVER!
(We have nowhere to go but down…)

Day Two
Me: How was it?! Was it fun? How’s your teacher?
Eva: She’s nice. Her name is MRS. Lawlor. Mum, mum, you CAN’T just call her ‘LAWLOR’, okay?!? It’s MRS. LAWLOR.
Me: Yes, because I often make a habit of calling people solely by their last names. A hangover from my years as an Army staff sergeant. Thanks for bringing that to my attention before I embarrassed myself. How did I ever get on in life without your sage instruction?

Day Three
Me: How was your day?
Ted: We had a doughnut!
Eva: A DOUGHNUT?!?! AAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!
Me: Oh for God's sake! It’s not a pony we’re talking about. (Note to self – do not mention any ‘fun’ activities from our secret life.)

Day Five
Me: So…How was it? What did you do today?
Eva: I played with the Play-dough.
Me: For six hours?
Eva: No…and the tea set!
Me: And what about the other 5 hours and 22 minutes of the day?

Day Nine
Me: So…what did you do today? Did you do any of your letters?
Eva: No. I don’t know. We just did some numbers, OKAY? (In that perfected, 15-year-old, ‘I’m just telling you this to shut you up’ tone of voice)

Day Twelve
Me: So, how was your day?!
Eva: [Exasperated] I don’t want to talk about it. (With the snippy disappointment in her voice to indicate that she was actually talking about blowing her call-back audition for the starring role in the latest Andrew Lloyd Webber musical)

I’m stonewalled. And fascinated. How do they actually teach them to read or add or anything else for that matter? And, for the sake of pure curiosity, how does one even manage to keep 27 five-year olds entertained for six whole hours? It’s all shrouded in mystery.

When my kids were all babies together and I was bleary-eyed with cracked nipples, there were always those completely insensitive but well-intentioned older ladies (who had clearly romanced their early years) who would say things like, ‘Don’t wish it away – these are the best years of your life!’ Three kids shitting in nappies who fight and bite, va-jayjay farts during my weekly yoga and preparing three dinners a night and this is the best I have to look forward to in my life? This would usually make me want to reach for my sharpened dagger and commit hara-kiri on the spot: this is as good as it’s ever going to get? People said that about high school too. And while I enjoyed high school, I wouldn’t say it’s ‘the best’ and I don’t want to go back. (Except maybe to be the-cool-chic-in-a-John-Hughes-film sorta way.)

And now, for all my anticipation – poof – it’s gone. For 30 hours a week she is someone else’s responsibility entirely. When you consider that there are 164 hours in a week, roughly half of which are spent asleep when you’re five, our time together has nearly been cut in half. And five has been a magic age. I feel like I just got her nice and it’s time to send her off into the world – a preview for the teen years, no doubt. So maybe when my next one goes off, I will be sad. I’ll let you know in two years, but in the meantime, I have go and set my countdown clock…

Tis the Season for Toy Recalls...

I got an email about the disastrous MacLaren stroller recall recently from one of those ‘helpful’ parenting websites. (For those of you who didn’t hear, there had been twelve – count ‘em TWELVE reports of fingertip amputations by infants who had gotten their fingers caught in the closing hinges. Why twelve before a recall?) The email also included a question something along the lines of ‘Which other safety recalled toys do YOU have in your home?’ or something equally alarmist. In the name of research I couldn’t resist having a look.

The list was rather boring. Which, in an odd way was disappointing. I’m not saying that I derive any sort of pleasure out of other people’s injuries – well, other than in the ‘Funniest Home Videos’ sort of way. But there is a certain amount of entertainment value in the seeing what went wrong.

Most of the things on the list were due to manufacturing and design flaws, eg, loose buttons or parts, cords, lead paint, parts that broke off too easily and the like. Nowadays toys are mostly recalled due to faulty manufacturing, not faulty ideas.

Let’s travel back in time to the 70s, when in the weeks following Christmas, toy recalls were in the top headlines on the nightly news as the post-holiday carnage was recounted:
Good Evening, I’m Kent Kennerson and here are today’s top stories. Reports of injuries from Mattel’s top selling ‘Knife-Fighter Street Warrior’ kit have been reported in the post-Christmas fallout…’

I can remember sitting catatonic, waiting for the newsreader to finish the report, imagining some little boy being mauled by his own Rockem Sockem robots who finally turned their anger on their puppet master. I would be catatonic with impending disappointment waiting to hear someone had been injured by the Barbie camper-van. I imagined chaining myself to mine, should it have found itself on the dreaded recall list. No way would I have parted with that, and Ken would’ve backed me up.

I began to wonder if it was just nostalgia, or if toys were more dangerous back in our day: and not because of a few dangling cords, but because Larry in Marketing convinced his team that the ‘Johnny Junior Electrician Explorer Kit’ was destined to become the top-seller of the season. Reminiscent of the SNL skit, ‘Bag O’Glass’, there seemed to be more of an element of danger involved in some toys - lawn jarts are just one example. And let’s just admit it: if fun and danger didn’t go together, they’d be no bungee jumping or roller coasters.

So again in the name of research I consulted the U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission for a stroll down memory lane. Here are extracts of actual press releases from recalled toys:

1977: "Tumble Stones, Model #1901 Rock Polisher" and "Deluxe Double Barrel, Tumble Stones, Model #1902 Rock Polisher,” manufactured by RAPCO, Division of Martin Yale Industries, Chicago, Illinois, fail to comply with Federal regulations for electrically-operated toys and are banned from sale.
Although no injuries associated with these rock polishers have been reported, both fail to provide protection from moving parts; contain live parts which are accessible; have electric power cords which are not adequately secured to the unit; and the cords are shorter than the minimum required length of 5 feet.

A rock polisher for a toy? I suppose in order to make it fun there had to be some element of danger – in this case, the risk of electrocuting one’s self or the chance of jamming one’s fingers in the high speed moving belts. My cousins had one of these from the Sears catalogue. As I type this with nine fingers, I’m happy to report that it was the source of many good times.

1980 – “Fun Fountain” toys. The toy consists of a clown hat and head which attaches onto the end of a garden hose so that the hat rises in the air when water flows through the clown's head. Children may be inclined to peer into the water outlet and the stream of water could cause serious eye injuries, especially in communities with high water pressure.CPSC so far has been informed of two consumer complaints since June, 1979, involving a six-year-old boy and a seven-year- old boy who suffered eye injuries when struck at close distance by water emitted from the "Fun Fountain" toys.

Remember this one? Never went near the thing due to my fear of clowns. Scandal could’ve been avoided with a disclaimer on box and some complementary ‘kooky-klown’ eyepatches.

1979 - Toy Telephone recall. The sets include two battery-operated toy telephones connected by means of a detachable cord. The two-prong plugs at each end of the cord so closely resemble genuine electrical plugs that children may try to force them into household sockets, thereby receiving severe shocks or burns.
While Montgomery Ward has received no consumer complaints of injuries from the cords, CPSC staff reports that an 8-year-old girl was burned earlier this year when she forced a plug from a similar phone set (which was distributed by another company) into a wall electrical outlet.

This girl was eight - EIGHT! Way past the usual danger stage. I'm thinking a little Darwinism doesn't go astray from time to time. All of a sudden Hasbro’s ‘Li’l Elves Cobbler Kit’ (complete with tacks, hammer and toxic-fume glue) isn’t looking quite so dangerous as this little menacing telephone number.

1985 – “Official Chopper 9”. Approximately 30,000 "Official Chopper 9's" were sold between July of 1984 and January 1985 in Hawaii only. The firm and the Commission are aware of four eye and face laceration incidents in which the rotor blades either flew off the toy, striking the user or bystander, or the entire helicopter descended rapidly, striking the person in the face. The incidents happened in October 1984, and Whimports voluntarily stopped sales of the toy in January 1985.

‘Voluntarily’ stopped sales? Bless. This really was the good old days since clearly no one was suing. Note that even if the blades didn’t fly off the toy, you still weren’t safe: ‘…or the entire helicopter descended rapidly, striking the person in the face.’ Funny how they just slipped in that information. But there’s nothing like unpredictability to add to the danger element.


Things were perhaps more 'dangerous' then. We didn’t stay in car seats till we got our licenses, there were no woodchip-covered playgrounds, and the only people who wore helmets were the kids with special needs (and referring to them as retarded wasn’t in any way mean-spirited). Everything has become so…sanitised. Parent’s fears are manipulated to hysteric proportions – I’ll save my rant on the child-proofing industry for another time. It's worth noting that of all the reports I trawled through very few of them contained reports of any really serious or long-term injuries.

Ok, we may be sparing our children from a few scraped knees and elbows, but it makes me wonder if all this sanitization is coming at a price. In making all the decisions for them, we crippling the growth of one of the most important attributes for any adult to possess: common sense.

On that note, I’m going to ask my 5 year old to bake me a cake with the light bulb in the mini-bake oven. And I’m just going to warn her it gets hot.

The Graveyard of Old Bibs

Anyone have any clever uses for old bibs? (I feel obliged to mention that I am in no way crafty.) I don't use them that often anymore, and have roughly 122. I'm thinking of sewing them together into a quilt. I should have it completed before I'm 60.

New Dog

I would consider getting a dog simply for having someone to suck up the crumbs after every meal. Although our in-house ants do a wonderful job, it takes all day.

Seriously, who carpets under a kitchen table?

An Ode to David Letterman via Oprah

In my latest bid at shameless self-promotion, I decided to try and go straight to the top: Oprah. There was a recent ‘Be on the Show’ topic that asked for you to create a video of your ‘mom moments’. I can do this – I thought – boy, do I have plenty of fodder! And while I’m not really all that keen on the idea of seeing myself on television, I would like an hour with those hair and make-up people she employs.

Among others, one of the questions asked was what was something you wished you knew before having children?

So here is my Top Ten List, an Ode to Dave Letterman and of course, you too Oprah.

10 Things I Wish I Knew Before Having Children, or Things I Now Know For Sure, in no particular order:

10. The hours from 5-7pm are the equivalent of six normal daytime hours; conversely, the hours from their bedtime to yours are the equivalent of 15 minutes, during which time you have to email, read your book, have sex, and watch everything you’ve tivo-ed

9. If you can look in on them at night while they're sleeping and not still want to kill them, you're doing okay

8. Unless you move to a deserted tropical island where fig leaves or total nakedness is acceptable, you will never be caught up on your laundry again. Ever. (Except maybe with a full-time nanny, and then, only maybe.)

7. As soon as you pick up a telephone, your children (who have spent all day ignoring you) will begin fashioning crude weaponry out of things from the utensils drawer, helping themselves to ice cream, chips or other ‘sometimes’ food and /or simultaneously start demanding your undivided attention with that puzzle or craft they haven’t looked at in weeks

6. The contents of your vacuum cleaner bag will be thus: 90% dust, dirt and fluff; 10% cheerios, Barbie shoes and legos

5. You will have to renegotiate every major relationship in your life, no matter how stable: with your husband, your boss, your mother, your friends

4. Going to the bathroom for any reason (from peeing to tamponing to showering) will become a 'teachable moment'

3. Your outdoor voice becomes your indoor voice for large portions of the day

2. Expect your favourite clothes to become napkins, tissues, and on the odd occassion, even toilet paper - a sponge for any and all bodily fluids. (I'm still waiting for a fashionable clothing range from Bounty)

1. If you do it right, it's the hardest job ever; if you don't do it right, it's even harder

And, as every mum knows, everything tastes better with ketchup.

A Stationary Bike for Oompa Loompas

Ok, I usually don't just 'blog' and write little blurbs about (inane) things I have observed during my day, but today I just can't resist.

I saw for the first time ever today a pint-sized exercise bike. Yep. You heard me. A STATIONARY bike. For children. I thought exercising with a Wii was a bit disheartening, but woefully accepted it as a sign of the times.

But a kid's stationary bike? And it was not just a smaller version of an adult bike, but crafted out of bright, 'fun' primary colours and looked like it could only hold a child less than 8 years old.

I wonder if Junior is supposed to get on it so he can multi-task: say, to read the Wall Street Journal and catch up on his stock porfolio? Perhaps he can scarf down a sleeve of Oreos while pedaling away: try doing that on a ten-speed. Or perhaps it is for those days when he just can't bear to miss Diego. But then, isn't that what tivo is for?

The only obvious conclusion is that Oompa Loompas do, indeed, exist. It also explains their thighs of steel.

Cotton On: One for the ‘What the Hell Were You Thinking?’ Files

Cotton On, for those of you who mightn’t have one in your local mall, is sort of like an Australian version of Gap. Except cheaper. And without all those phoney arseholes wearing headsets pretending they care about you by asking how your day is going before lying to you about how great those khakis/cords/jeans make your bum look.

There was a recent uproar over a line of bubs slogan-tees that they launched. Below, I’m going to list them, in ascending order of bad taste:

5. ‘Drive it Like You Stole It’ (With a Picture of a Pram). Perhaps almost cute. Not quite as distasteful as some, but sounds like something a teenager would’ve penned

4. ‘F.B.I.’ with ‘Farts Burps Insomnia’ in small print underneath. I find this particularly irksome since they don’t even have the FBI in this country. Use your own damn acronyms

3. ‘I’m a Tits Man’ The word tits is in the same category with the word panties: cringe-inducing. Men use it, women hate it. Ok when talking about boobs of the proportion of Pamela Anderson. Appropriate - arguably even funny - in movies like American Pie. Does NOT (under any circumstances) belong on a bubs tee-shirt. Are you listening, global marketeers?

2. ‘The Condom Broke’ / ‘I’m Living Proof My Mum is Easy’ are tied for the coveted number 2 position. Does not even warrant a pithy comment from moi.

1. ‘They Shake Me’ Seriously? Remember Louise Woodward, the supposedly perfect English nanny who was accused of killing her charge by shaking him to death? This is beyond irreverent humour, this is trivialising abuse. What next? ‘Grandpa is a paedophile’?

Maybe it’s just a Gen Y thing. Maybe as much as I hate to admit it, I might just be getting old in not finding any of these even the least bit funny. In fact, after reading these, all I could picture was Nicole Ritchie (or the like) and her tattooed partner yucking it up in the shop before buying a batch to take home and distribute to their uber-hip friends.

Now admittedly, we all use our kids to make statements, consciously or not. We don't always sign on for that, but some one has to do it. Of course they are extensions of our beliefs and values. We give them the haircuts we think are appropriate, buy them the toys we want (someone out there is still buying Bratz dolls) and dress them the way we like. I’m still waiting to see a baby sporting a tiny black and red Che Guevera number or a Palin 2012 tee shirt. But in this case, I don’t know even know what – or who – they were going for, since ribald humour and babies do not go together. Ever. Think milk and orange juice, Red Sox and Yankees, Keats and Donne.

The Cotton On group describes themselves as a ‘winning combination of globally relevant fashion at affordable prices.’ Well gee, now that you mention it, child abuse is globally relevant. But not when it sounds like a slogan coined by Andrew ‘Dice’ Clay on a baby’s tee shirt. This also begs the question of how many round tables did these slogans undergo before even making it to the manufacture-and-distribute phase. And which oh-so-hip-and-clever CEO gave his final stamp of approval? I’m ageistly assuming that the CEO is a thirty-something; a quick google search unsurprisingly didn’t produce a name, and rightfully so - whoever it is is probably still in hiding.

The hullabaloo has died down since this happened, and the usual finger-in-the-dike steps have been taken: the canned corporate ‘apology’ followed by the pulling of the items from the stores.

I should take comfort that these slogans have even caused controversy. And no doubt, so does Cotton On, since bad publicity is always better than no publicity. I just never thought I’d be part of the moral majority. But then, having kids does all sortsa funky things to you…