Chief Dobber and a Dilemma

Around these parts, we all have quite different personalities. Mr. Woog goes about his business quietly and with much consideration and care. Me? Well I gather you know that I am disorganised and a fan of corner cutting.

Fooey Fooey Moi Moi and his father XO are the worlds most obese guinea pigs and continue to eat their feelings as well as now, their hutch. The positively SCREECH at you when you walk past for MORE FOOD MORE FOOD MORE FOOD.

Chuy is a selfish asshole whose only concern is himself.

"Serve me.... wench"

Stanley the fighting fish is yo-yos between chronically depressed and then hyperactive. He also gives me nothing.

And then there are the kids.

Horatio is a devil-may-care type of a lad, who is always losing his shoe, forgetting his homework and laughs in the face of authority.

Jack is super organised, very clean, loves to follow the rules and calls me "My Darling." He is also very, very skilled at dobbing on his brother which just. about. kills. me. several. times. a day.

It is like I have given birth to the Odd Couple.

So it was interesting this morning when I went to Huffy Puffy class with my mate Deb, who quickly informed me that she spotted BOTH boys riding to school with the helmets not on their noggins, BUT HANGING CASUALLY FROM THE HANDLEBARS!

"Are you saying.." I said "That Jack was not wearing his helmet?"

Deb confirmed her sighting and apologised for dobbing, quickly adding that if I was to ever sight her kids (she has 4) doing something wrong, then I was to dob as well.

Horatio not wearing his helmet was one thing, but Jack? My beacon of all things good? My goody two shoes son?

MY RULES MAN!

What to do, what to do...

Retribution will be swift, and by swift I mean at 3.30pm when school is out. Man, I hate a scene so I am handing this one over to you. I need some effective ideas.

What punishment should fit this crime?

And have you ever dobbed on someone else's kids? What did they do?

The Mighty Ducks go down.

What sort of saddist schedules a rugby match for the Mighty Ducks on a Mothers Day at 8am in the morning?

Well, I don't know who they were, but whoever that person might be I was cursing their name at 7am as I rose on what was one of the coldest Sydney mornings we have had recently.

As I stretched out, I realised that I had left 4 jerseys on the line overnight and yes, they were still wet.

So, in what should have been a lovely morning of sleep ins, breakfast in bed and gentle, soothing gestures of love turned into me standing in the bathroom with the hairdryer on, frantically trying to get those fucking rugby tops dry.

When I arrived, I did my Team Manager duty and got the kids to sign on, using the pen that Jack had given me for a Mother's Day gift. It was a pink, bedazzled biro in the shape of a lipstick. I must say, the Mighty Ducks thought that this was the bee's knees and I told them, if they won, then I would award the pen to the Man of the Match.

Because deep down I knew that they wouldn't. Oh ye of little faith. Truth is, I had eyeballed the opposition and they were HUGE.

The first half, I stood on the sideline with coaches Jim and Hutto, along with the team mascot, a horny labrador puppy called Bear.

Even Bear was enamoured with the pen...

One of my favourite things to do while watching the game is to get my Florence Nightingale on. When a Duck goes down, I streak (clothed) onto the pitch and administer ice and use my scarf to dry the tears that the darling pet is trying so hard to hold in.

They are little manly men and they do not want to cry in front of their team. The crowd gives them a slow clap off the field and I inform everyone that the patient will be fine and just needs a lolly and a head moosh.

By half time, we were drawn but as the second half went on, we were obliterated by a winger with the speed of a gazelle, so the pen came home with me that day.

In other news, the sausage sizzle offering put on by the hosting team was far superior to any I had tasted before. Champion team and champion BBQ. Cudos!

In other exciting news, the NSW Waratahs are coming to The Mighty Ducks training session this week. Can you believe that? We need some very explicit help on tackling, scrums, line outs, running, holding a ball without dropping it and how not to do cartwheels in the backline. And the team wants autographs, so guess what will be trotted out?

Damn straight!

Did you score anything special for Mother's Day?

The Loan Shark.

Yesterday I did my community spirited duty and volunteered to man the Mother's Day Stall. In my head, this meant that I donned a quaint checked pinafore and sold donated crap that the Mum's had recycled from last years Mother's Day Stall.

Either I am deluded or the world has changed.

I turned up to find about 20 Mums on different stations. There were two large tables piled high with a selection of gifts that had been outsourced by a company that, get this, specialise in providing cheap pink gifts to schools to sell at Mother's Day Stalls!

It was a very sanitised affair.

There was also about a dozen Mum's on the gift wrapping table station and 3 on the money transaction table.

And because I was a tiny bit late, and obviously very threatening, I sat alone.

On the IOU table.

The IOU table is provided for those kids whose parents had not read the newsletter and had forgotten to give them some moolah.

I know these kids. Because usually, they are MY kids.

The whole thing ended up costing me about $70. Because of the kindy kids. Kids so cute and adorable and partially clueless. They would come up to me with their chosen gift, being escorted by one of the volunteers on crowd control.

I would ask them their first name, which they would tell me. Then I would ask them their class, and receive a blank look. Then I would ask them what their last name was, thinking that I could look up their class later, but most of them replied with....

"I don't know...."

So then it would all become too hard and I would chuck some money into the till and tell them to go and get the little jar of glitter wrapped and we will leave it at that. 

Then they would walk away in the opposite direction of the wrapping table, only to be corralled again and sent off in the correct direction.

Seriously, so divine.

Then the big kids arrived and again, those without dough were sent to see me.

"Do you understand the terms and condition of this loan?" I would start my spiel. "There is 0% interest and a 99% chance that if you do not pay, no one is going to chase you up for it...."

The big kids just shook their shoulders and so did I.

It had been a few hours and I was a little bit over it.

Then I saw Jack, who was commando rolling over to the payment table with his pocket money in one hand and a gift in the other. It must have been a small gift, which led me to believe that he too, had fallen for the little jar of glitter.

So that is what I can expect on Sunday. Glitter. And a Rugby Match.

Because those things go so well together, don't you think?

Click here to see who won the Moccona Promotion!

The Mighty Ducks Under Lights.

It has been a few weeks since a desperate looking woman handed me a clipboard at a rugby game, a move which saw me propelled from mere spectator and parent, to MANAGER.

RUGBY MANAGER of the F-Grade Mighty Ducks.

SO I am like Ricky Nixon a bit, without the incessant rooting and drugs.

That lady told me that I would not have to do much, so now every time I see her, my eyes narrow and one thought springs to mind.

....liar....

Last night we played under lights. On a Friday Night. Now normally my Friday nights are spent with a bottle of wine, so I am feeling very wholesome and quite clear headed this morning.

I also have no voice.

I was informed by 2 parents at about 4pm that their son's coughed, so they were unable to play. I wrote back "I hope they have a speedy recovery...." and then shot the Age Manager a note...

"So, The Mighty Ducks are down to 7 players tonight...."

Well God Bless the under 9's whose training finished just before our match started and who stepped up to have a game.

Our temporary coach is a fellow named Hutto, who is assisted by another bloke called Jim. They sorted the team while I ran around getting the players to sign on.

Mum was visiting. She knows the rules so was helpful to have there. She also cut up all the oranges that I remembered we needed about 5 minutes before the match.

The manager of the other team came across and asked me who our touch judge was. I asked him...

"Pray tell kind sir. What is a touch judge?"

And now I know, a touch judge is someone who patrols the sidelines. He also wanted to know who the Ground Marshall was.

The Ground Marshall is the person who makes sure the parents don't beat the shit out of each other. I surveyed the gathered crowd and suggested the only incidents I foresaw was perhaps a battle over who had the biggest share portfolio.

 I made Mr. Woog the Ground Marshall. He goes to the gym and boxes, so it was a good fit.

The game started. It was a cracker and by half time The Mighty Ducks were winning, which does not really say much about the other team just quietly.

The opposition's team manager came to check the scores and I showed him smugly And then I said.....

"I am sure there is a chance you can catch up..."

Karma was watching and kicked my ass...

The opposition had obviously been administered some red cordial during the pep talk and over, and over and over they went. Until I ran out of space on my score card.

And then the winds chanced again and my son, MY SON, turned on his inner mongrel and morphed into some giant beast who drove that ball through walls of green players, setting up some of the best tries ever witnessed in the game they play in heaven.

I might be exaggerating here.....

Little did I know that my Mum told him at half time that she would give him $5 for every try he scored. Money talks, it would seem.

As I watched Harry slice through the opposition like a hot knife through butter, the stand in coach quipped "He is like a D9 Caterpillar."

Harry is not fast at running and I suspected it was a dig at that. Was I to be offended?

When time was called, the scores were even and our team carried on like we had won the final or something, simply because we didn't lose.

And the D9 Caterpillar was named man of the match!

I got home and made Harry something to eat. He was ravenous and covered in dirt. I put him into a Radox bath and checked my emails. And there was a message from the coach, explaining exactly what a D9 Caterpillar was, along with a short video.



Then Harry called out from the bath, asking if I could make him a fruit salad, and my mind went straight to this....

And that is how we didn't lose round 2. Am off to wash jerseys now. Glorious, victorious jerseys.

What sport are you watching this weekend?

They Fuck You Up

I bought Oliver James's Book They Fuck You Up as a resource that I would hope comfort me during this parenting gig that was thrust upon me with no notice.

Neither of my boys were planned. I had no interest in becoming a mother in my late 20's as I was too busy trying to be important at work. Since the birth of my last, I have been a CONTRACEPTIVE NINJA.

Turns out Oliver's Book is about how your parents fuck you up! And about how you raise your kids in the first six years determines the sort of person they grow up to be. I read it when my youngest was 6. (insert line about horse, gate and bolting here)

It includes tips and hints on how to raise lovely people, and teaches you to look back on your own childhood.

I had a happy childhood. My parents separated when I was 6 and Mum raised us well. I wanted a horse and wanted to go to Pony Club, as did my sister so Mum spent ever second Sunday pleading with 2 obstinate ponies to get onto a horse float, by herself.

I doubt I would do that. I had to talk both of my kids out of joining band because the commitment on my behalf would be too great.

She raised 3 kids, ferrying us to plenty of activities all the while running her own small business and trying to have a snippet of a social life. I have sweet memories of her and her mates sitting on the front verandah of a Friday night, drinking Lindeman's Boxed Riesling while we all ran amok.

Mum did a great job and I am forever thankful to her. It is a special type of woman who can handle this parenting gig on their own.

But as much as I look at the ways that I might have already fucked up my kids, in return, they have done their fair share as well.

Take the past few days.....

• Someone slept walked into my bedroom and mistook the corner for the latrine in the middle of the night. 
• Someone cracked the password to the iTunes account and tallied up $680.00 worth of Littlest Petshop Apps.
• Someone shoved all the clean and folded washing under their bed. (I used to do this, so this is hereditary.)
• Someone's dobbing has gotten so far out of control that they now have to give me $1 from their piggy bank before they are allowed to spew forth their accusations. 
• Someone has decided that they are too old for public displays of affection.
• Someone said something under their breath one time too many, causing me to completely lose my shit.

A few minutes after Harry entered the world, my oldest sister Mrs Ryan said something that will stay with me forever.

"This is the single most best and worst thing you have ever done.."

At the time I remember being horrified but as the years flew past, I started to see her point. It is fucking hard.

And they fuck you up.

But there is a fair chance you are reciprocating. Once you make peace with that fact then you can move forward and raise your kids  without as much guilt.

Better still replace the guilt with extra love and know that you are doing a great job, fuck ups or not.

Do you ever wonder if you are fucking up your kids?

Does it worry you?

How was your childhood?

This post is dedicated to all the kick-ass solo parents.

Like it's 1999!

Sponsored by Gumtree

Thank GOD it is Friday!

It has taken nearly a week to recover from the festivities from last weekend which saw us in our very own “Woog’s Amazing Race”. We dashed over Sydney celebrating birthdays, a wedding and of course, the first round of rugby.

The weekend culminated in Jack’s 7^th Birthday party, which was planned entirely on the sales and services site Gumtree.  

And thank heavens it was!

We arrived home at 11am on the Sunday and with guests due to arrive at 2pm, I started with the nervous sweats. Mother Nature could tell I was stressing a little bit, so decided to part the clouds and let the sun shine in.

During our absence, the Jumping Castle had been delivered and set up in the backyard.

At noon, the caterer arrived with all the food and set up the most delightful buffet table that I ever did see. It was my job to stop my kids from getting stuck in, there and then.

At 1.30pm, the disco people arrived to set up the lights and audio and to meet the birthday boy.

And at 2pm, on the dot, the backyard was full to capacity with new friends from school, old mates from the past and of course, our HUGE family!

It was a strange feeling not having to run around like a madwoman, sending Mr. Woog up to the supermarket for last minute, forgotten items. Such as serviettes. Instead, I jumped on the dance floor.

AND PARTIED LIKE IT WAS 1999!

The best thing about it? Come 4pm the children were collected. By 5pm, all of the fabulous businesses that I had found on Gumtree had packed up, cleaned up and were out of here*.

And by 6pm, the kids were asleep while Mr. Woog and I shared a well-earned glass of wine on the couch, as we asked ourselves…

“What just happened here?”

As far as ease, I gave the whole process 10 out of 10.

Thank you to the businesses that I found through Gumtree. If you live in the Sydney area I can highly recommend the following:

Click here for customized adorable invitations

Click here for the cutest caterer in town

Click here for awesome disco entertainment FOR 2 HOURS!

Click here for a well-priced jumping castle with great customer service. They also hire Sumo Suits.... just saying...

And with my 40^th Birthday not too far away, the easiest way to start planning is through Gumtree. Once I am done with denying that I am actually growing up.

*all except for the Jumping Castle, who asked if they could pick it up on Tuesday Morning. We made full use of our free time with it. 

What is the best party you have been to?

Jumped on a Jumping Castle Lately? In your PJ’s?

WITHOUT THE BENEFIT OF A BRA?

 PS Thanks to Aunty Mim for the Skittles Cake!

The Mighty Ducks

Joining the local rugby club has not been smooth sailing to say the very least. The club prides itself on winning and after 4 weeks of "trials" we have found ourselves in the F-Grade.

Yes, a team that is referred to as the Ducks.

The Ducks consists of 9 players, leftover and chucked together like bubble and squeak. A band of misfits, fuelled by enthusiasm but lacking the winning skills. 

Harry is as keen as mustard about the game that they say is played in heaven. I am keen for him to be involved as it is a great outlet for his ever increasing testosterone to simmer and rise to the surface.

However, there is more than one factor that is making the Ducks journey even more difficult.

There is no coach and no team manager.

No one has volunteered.

While the Ducks limp along like someone has clipped both wings, the other grades enjoy a plethora of support from the parents in the way of perfectly cut oranges, spanking fresh jerseys and well run training sessions.

I think we all know where this is going, right?

On the weekend at the game, I walked past the Under 10 A Grade team and heard the coach say to them....

"YOU ARE NOT THE DUCKS. YOU ARE THE BEST..."

Later, when a desperate lady carrying a clipboard came to me and asked "Can you manage the F-Grade. Please?" one thousand excuses ran through my head.

But I found my mouth disagreeing with my head.

And now I am the manager of The Mighty Ducks.

She then told me that I could do a 3 hour course and qualify as their coach. I informed her that her luck was already being pushed.

She handed me the clipboard and momentarily drunk of power, I sat in a little tent and told everybody who came and asked me questions that I didn't know anything.

But I will learn.

Because The Mighty Ducks will rise like a phoenix from the fluffy, feathery ashes of mediocrity and claim victory in the F-Grade Championships.

So until then, A-Graders, you may laugh and point and make fun of our backward running, but come presentation night, you will find yourself bowing down to the Mighty Ducks, while I hold that Victory Trophy atop my head, give a moving speech about the little team that could. And then take them all out to McDonalds to celebrate with a Happy Meal.

And you, with all your swift moves and clever kicks, will not be invited.

Stick that in your quack pipe and smoke it.

PS If you are interested in coaching this team, please email me.

PPS The Ducks went down 7-17. The tries for our team were scored by someone we borrowed from the Under 9's. I asked his Mum if we could forge his birth certificate. She told me to go away.

On the eve of Jack's Disco Party....

Sponsored by Gumtree

Ok, so you know about Gumtree right? The site that lets you buy and sell all manner of goods. I regularly trawl Gumtree to snare second hand bargains for Jabba.

But this is not about buying or selling. This is about organising the one social event that is talked about all year at our place.

Jack’s Birthday Party!

Disco Birthday Jack circa 2012

Because there is so much hype and expectation, it causes me no amount of annual stress.

Back in my day, we had a birthday party every second year. We were allowed to invite ten mates and choose a cake from the Woman’s Weekly Birthday Cake cookbook. Chuck in a game of pass the parcel and that was the end of that.

But times have changed my friends!

I love throwing Jack a solid party because it brings him so much joy. The anticipation, the suspense, the gratitude. Well, it is all just worth it to me. Plus the fact that we started at a new school this year, well it makes sense to explode onto the Year 2 social scene with a BANG!

Gumtree has issued me a challenge to organise Jack’s Birthday Party by completely organising it through their site. Hey! If it is going to make my life a little easier, I am all for that.

CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!

But to be honest, it turned out a pretty easy challenge. It took about an hour, some Gumtree cruising, 6 emails, 4 follow up phone calls then DISCO.

Of course, it has to be DISCO.

I got on the site and went to their services section. Before this challenge, I didn’t know there was even such a thing.

I found the Party and Catering section.

One email, and the invites were designed and the file emailed to me, which I forwarded onto our local printer (also found on Gumtree) and I picked those babies up that very afternoon! $25. THANK YOU!

EFFICIENCY, a word I do not use too often….

In the meantime, I found a very cute cake, a person to create a party atmosphere, someone to take care of all the food, a Disco Instructor and a massive jumping castle.

The Business Services section can assist you in finding a cleaner, a beautician, a removalist, a handyman, a marriage celebrant, anything you need. You just bung in what you want, enter your postcode and it will present you with all available options in your area.

You then directly email the business for a quote, compare what comes back and book it. Just like that.

Did I mention, I tend to go a little overboard when it comes to my kid’s parties?

Well I do. It brings not only Jack’s new classmates together, but also our entire extended family! This year is a busy time for family birthdays, so we kill about 4 birds with one stone.

So I am in control of this whole process, all done with the convenience of not having to leave my desk, using nothing but the net, a phone, a pen and a notebook.

And I am so smug about the whole situation, I am 100% sure that it is going to piss down this weekend.

I am grateful that everything has been outsourced as we are at a wedding on Saturday afternoon, up at a sparrows fart Sunday morning for rugby (GO THE ELKS) and will arrive home about an hour before all the disco kids arrive. Adrenaline junkie, moi?

Come back soon for the post party wrap up. There will be no paparazzi but there will be one very happy diva! 

I will save you a lolly bag and a glass of champers.

Am I the only person who didn’t know all this could be done through Gumtree?

Where the hell have I been?

To discover what kind of services you can find on Gumtree, click here.