Confessions of a toy pusher

Hello, I am that annoying person who compiles a list of dumb-arse toys you should buy for your kids every Christmas.

 

Kidspot.com.au calls this list, 'Top 20 Toys for Christmas (insert current year here)' and everyone clicks on it. 

 

At first I thought it was going to be like Tom Hanks' job in Big. And at first it kind of was: I was sent free toys, I was invited to morning teas with FREE CAKE, I was pretty much on the take and sold to the first person who sent me a free sample of Barbie's Glam Camper van.

But I have been doing it for three years and this is my scorching of the earth to ensure I never have to do it again.

As part of the ‘research’ for this list, I am sent invites from toy marketers to all their morning teas, toy fairs and toy exhibits so that they may show me their wares. I have attended many of these fairs, I have been given a private viewing of a Furby Boom during which I lost the will to live and I have read countless marketing blurbs describing the latest revolution in bead art technology.

After three years, this is what I know and I will now impart it to you, free of charge:

There are about 15 categories for ‘new’ toys every year and despite their efforts to polish up the same old turds, every year when I show up to eat their free cakes, the 'new' toys are the same ones they dazzled me with last year.

Here are the 15 categories of toys I am guaranteed to see every year

 

1. The toy that connects to an app

This is actually every single toy in existence. Once they’ve finished showing you all the features of the toy the rep then excitedly tells you that the toy also ‘connects to an app’ on your mobile device. LIKE THAT’S SOMETHING WE PARENTS WANT TO HAPPEN!

Like we want our kids stealing the iPad AGAIN to play their stupid games on it and ask us for money to buy into the next level.

Like we want our kids to sign up with our email addresses to ANOTHER COMPANY THAT WILL END UP SELLING OUR DETAILS TO THE HIGHEST BIDDING SPAMMER.

Like we want our kids to load up our iPad with so many apps and games that we can no longer download the latest episode of The Walking Dead!

ENOUGH WITH THE APPS!!!!

2. The A.I thing that talks to you and eventually reaches self awareness so that it can kill you in your sleep

 

I just do not get the appeal of these creepy talking things. Not only are they stupid battery chewing hunks of plastic landfill CRAP!!!! But there is something so passive about a toy that does all the story-lining and voice work for your kid.

Remember playing with your dolls and doing all the voices? Even the voices of Ken and Stiffy (Ken’s weird friend the GI Joe doll whose legs did not bend hence the name, ‘Stiffy’ Just me?)

That was half the fun. Now there’s a Furby that names ITSELF before multiplying by having its own Furby babies to amass the army that will eventually take over the earth.  It also comes with its own arsehole 'personality', takes virtual showers and complains when the water pressure is too low.

If I wanted an arsehole for a toy, I'd get an old G.I Joe doll and name it Stiffy.

3. The animatronic pet for sad kids who aren’t allowed to have a dog or a cat

 

Sometimes they come on a skateboard and have sunglasses because what's more fun than a real dog? A dog on a skateboard with sunglasses.

Then there's birds in cages that whistle and repeat back what you’ve just said, a butterfly that lands on your hand and there may or may not have been a faux stick insect in a cage.

Just buy your kid a freakin’ guinea pig for Christ’s sake!

4. The pink horse thing with hair

 

I don’t know why the horses have to have hair, but they do. And I don’t know why they all have to live in a house  or a shoe together, but they do. What I’ve discovered about girls’ toys is that there is a big focus on:

• Share house living
• Lurid pink décor
• Horses with hair
• Big eyes. BIG BIG EYES
• A thematic tie-in to the movie coming out that you will have to sit through next school holidays.

5. The teeny tiny cute thing with big eyes and lots of teeny tiny bitsy pieces and it lives in a house or a tree with other teeny tiny things and it’s from a TV show

 

Some of them live in a pet shop in Paris or some shit. I dunno. Are they dogs or cats or beavers? I just don’t know. I just know that they come in a box with one squillion tiny bits and pieces that will be lost and sucked up by your vacuum cleaner within the month.

Toy companies STOP MAKING TEENY TINY THINGS THAT END UP INSIDE THE VACUUM CLEANER YOU ARE WASTING EVERYONE’S TIME!

6. The digital gaming device that 'reinvents' the entire digital gaming device genre

 

I don’t understand these things and I do not aspire to understand them. As soon as the marketing material comes through for these waste-of-space-in-my-living-room pieces of digital-gaming-excrement my brain just shuts down.

The last one that was foisted upon me like it was the re-invention of the hula hoop was Disney Infinity.

I couldn’t attend the ‘presentation’ so I had to hear about it over the phone from a 12 year old toy rep. She was nearly hyperventilating as she told me about it and I could barely keep my eyes open. Sensing my total disinterest, she sent one through by courier to seduce me with its magical gaming-like-you’ve-never-seen-before properties.

It had figurines and consoles and Mr Incredible was running through Shrek’s castle and my GOD it was dull. My kids played with it for about an hour then lost interest.

7. The faux learning device

 

Ever since Baby Einstein CDs were touted as the way to make your baby smarter, I have hated this 'make your baby smarter' horseshit. But I have always included them in the list, because I figured at least they were trying to offer something educational.

Last year it was a watch that rewarded kids for getting off their fat arses and doing some exercise. It was so depressing. It detected their movement and then said things like: “Good job you just earned five diamonds.” And then it sent them a pic of five diamonds that went ‘brrring!’ just for getting off their fat arses and moving around.

Really? Is this where we’re at?

8. The dumb toddler thing that makes annoying noises and sings alphabet songs

I call this section: It don’t mean a thing if it don’t talk and sing.

Sometimes it’s a train, last year it was a chair with a lift-up seat that looked suspiciously like a commode. As one of my colleagues shrewdly pointed out, it would only be a matter of time before you lifted the lid and found a crap in there.

It sang, it made up games, it affirmed you effusively for choosing the triangle. It was like The Singing Bush in The Three Amigos: it just would not. SHUT. UP. In my defence, I suggested that parents take the batteries out and just use it as a little chair. Because how much do toddlers love little chairs?

9. The  remote control ... whatever

Helicopters, cars, 4WD vehicles, boats, flying fairies. They climb up walls, they respond to the touch of your palm, they chew up batteries, they end up gathering dust under a bed because the batteries ran out and no one wanted to buy any more.

Batteries, batteries, batteries.

I predict that in the future, human children will have devolved in such a way that they will no longer be able to make those very complex 'vroom vrooom' 't-t-t-t-t' vehicle noises they can now make because the toys will be doing it for them.

Sad.

10. Some kind of Elmo toy that will do the parenting for you

 

Big Hugs Elmo started out as a big soft toy with long arms that cuddled you. Then the following year, Elmo started handing out affirmations: “You give the best cuddles.”

Then the year after THAT Elmo started putting your kid to sleep for you by shutting down and saying: “It’s time to go to bed now.”

Perhaps next year, Elmo will be running an ethics class.

11. Some kind of doll that shits its pants

 

Disclaimer: I have an deep-seated hankering for one of these because my mum would never let me have one as a kid. To be fair, I can see her point now.

They are revolting. But still I want one. I don’t know WHY!

This year it was Big Snacks Sara (or something) and you made her snacks. She ate them. She shat them out. Welcome to motherhood, girls. Are we having fun yet?

12. A nerf gun that REINVENTS THE ENTIRE NERF GUN GENRE

 

I don’t know where they are going to go next with these because every year the cartridge that holds the bullets gets bigger or the bullets come out faster. Nuclear capability perhaps? It’s a slippery slope.

13. Small rubbery pieces of crap with eyes that are breathlessly described as ‘collectables’

 

 Remember Trashies? Then they made these weird Shopkins things plus a crappy little supermaket shop with a stiffly turning conveyor belt that tipped all the Shopkins things over when it moved and would probably make your four year old cry.

These are just more teeny tiny bits of crap that end up all over your floor at home. FUCK YOU TOY COMPANIES! FUCK YOU!

14. Something overpriced and elaborate from a Star Wars movie

 

But with no female characters obvs.  Because extensive research has shown that girls are weak and need to be chucked in the creek.

Am I right toy companies?

15. A pillow that does something a pillow probably shouldn’t do like glow or turn into a monster

 

Don’t get me wrong, I like Pillow Pets, but I’m just not sure about the psychological effects of your pillow morphing into a monster while you sleep. What will they think of NEXT?

Oh wait, I know, an app.

17 annoying things parents do

As a demographic mass, parents are possibly the most annoying group in society. Not only does the government always pitch their tax cuts and free money to us every budget cycle (as though 'working families' are more important than people who live alone with cats) but we also clog up the roads every morning and every afternoon when we're doing the school run. (Because heaven forbid our precious bundles should be made to use their legs for purposeful walking as opposed to enriching extracurricular activities.)

Let's face it, we are annoying.  Here are 17 annoying things parents do.*

 1. Talk about their kids

I don't mind hearing about my friends' kids and I don't mind hearing a story that is a GOOD story about your kids. But don't tell me incessant banal sh** about your kids, because guess what? I have my own kids and incessant banal sh** is MY LIFE!

If it's a story about how your toddler obsessively licks the bin every morning, then I'm in: that's funny. But if it's a story about how your kid is 'taking learning risks' and 'hitting every milestone right on the button' *loud snoring noise*

 2. Volunteer photos of their kids when no one asked

If I ask, show me. But don't shove your phone in my face and volunteer a photo of your kid for me to admire, appropos of nothing.  As above: I have my own, I know what a baby/toddler/kid looks like and if I don't know you that well, yours are inconsequential to me: they just look like  curly-headed potatoes with eyes.

So, unless I know you quite well and am interested in what your kids look like, don't make me pretend to admire photos of your potato-with-eyes kid.

3. Block footpaths/shop aisles and access to sales racks with their GIANT Mack-truck sized prams

Something about having a pram seems to make people think they are hard done by and therefore deserve right of way.  I know this, because I used to be one of those people.

But since then, I have been run off the footpath by the Mummy Mafia, two-abreast-and-chatting-a-mile-a-minute in their Lorna Jane too many times to forgive.

I have also had precious, PRECIOUS access to a sales rack blocked too many times by a mother with a giant pram.  She just parks it right near the 'Extra 30% off' rack and then goes about her business rifling through the cheap stuff before I can get to it.  I can't go around her and I can't approach from another angle to get to that blue and white striped top BEFORE SHE DOES because she's created a road block with her Bugaboo.

 4. Let their kids do cartwheels in between the tables at restaurants because if the kid isn't bothering them, they're not bothered

Guilty as charged.

 5. Talk about where they're sending their kid to school/high school

Despite the fact that this is possibly the most tedious and boring topic of conversation in all of Christendom, I have found myself initiating this conversation too many times to mention. And then I get deep into it and I suddenly realise what a deeply boring person I have become. I hear us blah-blah-blah-ing  on about our kids, and how the school has to be right for the kid and as long as the kids are happy ... and OH MY GOD SHUT UP!!! What a boring bunch of people we are.

 6. Secretly think their kids are more awesome than yours 

Guilty as charged.

 7. Talk about their kids' NAPLAN scores as though NAPLAN scores actually MEAN SOMETHING!!!

Let me say this once: NAPLAN scores are not a test of your kids' intelligence, they are a test of how well the school is teaching your child according to the national curriculum.

And sure, this may be sour grapes because none of my kids ever end up in the pointy section of the graph, (except for punctuation and grammar which is just some weird anomaly and see what I did there? I HATE MYSELF FOR IT.) But seriously, it's not the HSC.  It's a basic skills test to make sure the school is teaching your kid properly.  So stop quoting me the 'band' your kid is in for numeracy skills. I’m. Not. Interested.

 8. Trail their kids through Target or Kmart leaving a slipstream of chaos and destruction in their wake

Guilty as charged.

 9. Let their kid hog the swing at the park because it gives them a chance to check Facebook/emails while they push

 10. Think it's cute for their toddler to play peekaboo with you over the back of the plane/bus/train seat THE WHOLE WAY

It's cute a few times, then it just gets exhausting. Know when to quit, people. Know when to quit.

 11. Say 'use your words Portia' when Portia is having a major meltdown in public and is clearly completely BEYOND words

Just pick that kid up, put her under your arm like a football and wing her out of there NRL-style.  Now is not the time for 'right-on' parenting.

 12. Invent dumb spellings for standard names to make their kid 'different'

Tyffannee, Lee-arne, Blayke, Ezmay, Me’Chell, Kareena etc. etc.

Two things:

a) Remember primary school you doofus?  Being different is not AN ASSET!!

b) You have just bought your kid a lifetime of having to spell out out their name for people, over and over and over again.

 13. Create annoying disorganised bunching chaos at the airport

This was me, about three weeks ago, herding my kids through Sydney Airport. I was aware of how annoying we were, we just couldn't stop being annoying. Everywhere we went. We were annoying.  We were THAT family.

 14. Let kids use an ipad without headphones in public

On a plane, on the bus, on the train, in a cafe.  You find yourself subjected to the perky generic sounds of Peppa Pig or the incessant "BOING BIP BOING BOING!" of the latest educational 'Find that fruit game' because some bint won't make their toddler wear headphones.

 15. Take toddlers to a fancy schmancy restaurant and then demand a kid-friendly menu

In fact, let’s just limit that one to the first half of the sentence.

Parents of toddlers: it’s two or three years of your life when you can’t go out to fancy restaurants (unless you shell out for a babysitter) and I know it’s hard. But please, take one for the team.  Just accept that your lifestyle has changed for a while and be gracious: either stay home or leave that kid at home.

For those of us who have lived through that phase and come out the other side, we don’t want to eat our fancy food while your toddler wraps spaghetti round his entire body, squeals intermittently and makes dough balls with bread in a water glass.

(To be clear: I'm talking about FANCY restaurants, not your local kid-friendly bistro.)

 16. Let their toddler rough up your dog/cat indiscriminately because the toddler  'needs to learn’

Yes, he needs to learn that dogs are unpredictable and don’t like being ridden rodeo-style by some 30 pound toddler. But if your child then gets bitten, don’t start calling for the ‘dangerous dog’ to be put down.

(Again, to be clear: I’m talking about dogs on leads here, I am not talking about uncared-for dogs that roam the streets and are a menace to society.)

 17. Get their outrage on in the comments box about listicle-style articles that have anything to do with parenting and kids

The internet rewards articles that have lots of comments: even 'Shut-up-YOU-are' style comments that are barely decipherable due to bad spelling. So if you don’t like it, ignore it and Facebook/Google will assume the article is not interesting to anyone. As a result, it will disappear. Don’t get your outrage on in the comments box, you’ll only make that sh** rise to the top of the feed again.

* Disclaimer: in the interests of full disclosure, the writer acknowledges that she has been guilty of most of these annoyances in her time as a parent, not including numbers 7 and 17.

45 things that go through a woman's head when she's walking through IKEA

Going to IKEA is a bit like having a baby: it seems like a good idea at the time, but once you’re in the thick of it, you start to wonder if you’ll ever make it out alive. Here are 45 thoughts that go through my head whenever I go to IKEA.

1. I am going to have the best time and when I’m finished my house is going to look awesome.

2. Ooh, free pencils. I want one! And a tape measure. This is the best day ever.

3. What … ? Why are all these people here on a weekday? Don’t they have JOBS!?

4. Get outta my way large family who brought grandma AND grandpa!

5. OK, stay on target, stay on target – you are here to buy a KALLAX shelving unit only. Repeat KALLAX shelving unit only. Do not, I repeat, do not buy any cheap scented candles or plastic boxes.

6. Oh that white couch looks so smart … HEY IDIOT! What have we discussed? You cannot have white furniture. Right, cannot have white furniture, must not buy white furniture.

7. I wish my living room looked like that … but … would I have to get a handyman to come and drill holes into my walls to make those shelves work? Forget it.

8. Ooh, a little box of screws and nuts … who doesn’t need lots of nuts and hooks and screwy bits?

9. I think I’m gonna need one of those big yellow bags.

10. Something about that cheap couch just doesn’t quite look right, it’s like the cover doesn’t fit properly or … Hello! Chair pads!

11. If I buy these chair pads, everything in my life will be perfect.

12. What are these things? EKSALS? I don’t know what they are, but I think I need some, they look like some sort of storage solution.

13. I think I might need two bags.

14. Ah the dining room section. You know what? I’ve been thinking lately that a fold-out dining table would solve all my problems. Where’s that stupid free pencil? Now, LAGSIG fold-out table … Aisle 56 Area 45 … hang on or was that Area … oh forget it, I don’t need a fold-out dining table … focus, focus. KALLAX shelving unit, KALLAX shelving unit.

15. Ah, the kitchen section, where all my dreams can come true. I feel like I just took a Valium, it is soooo organised and relaxing in here. If I had that kitchen, I would be so happy.

16. Hey! Idiot! We’re here for square shelving, keep moving, keep moving and don’t look left or right.

17. Right, where’s the shortcut. Oh I see it, almost there …

18. Ooh! Hanging tub thingies for my kitchen. THAT will solve all my problems. I can hang some herbs like Jamie Oliver does.

19. Hold the phone! Under-bench lighting … that I don’t have to call an electrician to install? I’m in.

20. Think I’m going to need a bigger bag.

21. OK, now stay on target, we’re almost to the shelving section, square shelves remember, square shelves.

22. Stupid big family in my way again. Burn them off. Indicate and overtake, walk like an Olympian, heel-toe, heel-toe.

23. Ahh, shelving, here we are. Now, KALLAX shelving unit, where are you?

24. Do I want a unit of nine or 12 squares? Dammit, I should have measured the living room wall. Rookie mistake! Rookie mistake!

25. Aisle 21 Area 15 . Right, got it, stay on target. Now get out! Run, run. Don’t go through the market hall just go straight to the picking section, then to the checkout and GO! Blinkers on.

26. Uh-oh the bedroom section. Do not buy any cute cheap lights for kids, do not buy any cute cheap lights for kids … or dumb hanging soft toy storage.

27. OH a bed canopy! That’d be fun. $14? Why wouldn’t ya? And some of these plastic storage boxes … hang on, do I need a shelving unit with those – HEY! Stay on target, we’re going straight to the checkout, remember?

28. Think I’m going to need a trolley.

29. Uh oh, here comes the soft furnishings section. Do not buy cushions, do NOT buy cushions. Or funky Swedish fabric to MAKE your own cushions. You don’t sew, remember, we’ve been through this before.

30. Whew! Made it through I’m nearly there … HEY! Lighting … FOCUS! Do not buy cheap paper lanterns, do not buy cheap paper lanterns. Well, maybe just one.

31. Ooh trolleys, now I can get more stuff. No! Take the shortcut, take the shortcut … I see the shortcut to the checkouts, take it, quick, take it and you can still get out of here alive!

32. OK, so I took the shortcut but … what? Market hall? How did I end up here? Goddamn you Swedish temptress! OK, so maybe just one box of wine glasses, they’re so cheap, why wouldn’t ya?

33. And these napkins are fun.

34. Oh and these coffee mugs, I think I’m going to start a new theme, blue and taupe. Three blue, three taupe. And I’ll need some new blue and taupe placemats to go with my new theme.

35. Aaand maybe some plates.

36. OK, we’re nearly there …just walk straight through the cheap-scented-candles-that-smell-like-food and garden-knick-knacks-that-you-don’t-need section.

37. Ooh a gazebo! Could I do that myself without calling a tradesman? HEY! You’re here for square shelves, KALLAX shelving unit, Area 15 Aisle 21 … or vice versa, anyway, remember, keep going. Just keep walking.

38. Oh my god, I’m finally here. There’s the checkout and there’s a checkout with only one person waiting. Quick speed up and get in front of the big family who brought grandma and grandpa, how did they get in front of me again?

39. Awesome, self-serve checkout – I don’t have to talk to anyone about how my day is going.

40. I LOVE this self-scanner thing, I feel like a shopkeeper. I might even ask that lady how her day is going.

41. Uh-oh, no bags. I’m gonna have to buy another one of these stupid big IKEA bags to carry all my stuff and then when I get home I’m going to have to wedge it into the linen cupboard with the other five I already have.

42. Finally, I made it out. I’m clear. I can see the EXIT. I’m free! I’m … wait I think I forgot something …

43. Oh sh**, I forgot the KALLAX shelving unit. I’m going to have to come back tomorrow.

44. Help me, I can’t remember where my car is.

45. Seriously, somebody help me. I don’t even know who I am anymore.

Confessions of a school volunteer

Life as a school mum is peppered with call-outs for volunteers.  And when it comes to volunteering, there are those who do and those who don't.  If I'm going to be honest, my instinct is to be in the latter category. But I have tried, with varying degrees of success.

Each time I tried (and each time things went pear-shaped ... again)  I learned something new: about myself, about the art of volunteering.

Here are my five most formative volunteering experiences and what I learned from each one.

1. The white elephant stall 

 

The first time I volunteered I didn't actually volunteer.  My friend Antonia volunteered on my behalf. She had gone to the P&C meeting to see what she could do to help with the school fete.  When they asked who would do the white elephant stall, she shot up her hand and volunteered both our names. 

 

Her thinking was: we both like second hand shops, so who better to run one?

 

It was a nice idea in theory and I was keen to start stock-taking awesome bric a brac. I even went to the newsagent and bought some cute little price tag thingies with string so that we might attach them to all the quirky treasures that surely would inhabit our picture-perfect white elephant stall.

 

I imagined us sitting on stools, in big straw hats, chatting away sipping coffee, while people "oohed" and "aahed" over our gorgeous second-hand wares. We would be quite the curators, I imagined.

 

However, we had not counted on two things:

 

a) Sorting, pricing and storing the contents of a white elephant stall takes top notch big-picture organisational skills.

b) When you say this:

Please donate to the white elephant stall

Most people hear this:

Please dump your worthless rubbish in the school hall: free council clean up!

We got bits of wood and wire, broken mugs, bags of old shoes that not even a hobo would want for free, mismatching wine glasses, ice bucket holders (sans ice buckets) mouldy clothing including underwear and lots and lots of foot spas.  More foot spas than was humanly decent.

Faced with this mountain of detritus, we soon realised we did not have the required skills to deal with it.  Adding to the problem was the fact that it was taking up considerable space in the school hall and the music master was not happy about it.

There followed various inept attempts to move our "stock"  somewhere else, none of which came to fruition and the first hint that we were not equipped for this task.
 
Next we set about "organising it." I did random unhelpful things like write prices on things with an indelible black marker pen while Antonia spent an inordinate amount of time talking to herself while sorting and grouping things in to price points.  Only to realise she couldn't keep track because meanwhile I was moving things around and writing on them with a black marker pen.

In short, we were both indians and we needed a chief.

So far, not so good.

The day of the fete we set up our stall and everything was going fine: until  2pm when we realised that  if we didn't start a fire sale like, RIGHT NOW we would again be stuck with mountains of junk to deal with after the fete finished. And given our track record, the school hall would not be offered as a "storage" option.

This stuff would be coming home with us if we didn't start getting rid of it.

We started spruiking like a pair of pros.

"Everything $2!"
"Everything must go!"
"FREE foot spa!"

This was precisely when the head of the P&C witnessed me selling off her "priceless" and lovingly donated gold-rimmed wine glass set (of five, yes five)  for the fire sale amount of $2. (Truth be told, I was about to GIVE them away.)

Honestly, I thought she was going to send me to detention.  She rushed over, snatched them back and told me they were "worth much more than $2 thank you very much!"

At the end of the day, still sitting on our mound of rubbish we were mercifully bailed out by a fast-thinking school dad who organised for Vinnies to come and pick up our remaining unsold "stock".

Lesson: If you are an indian, do not apply to be a chief.

2. The cake stall

 

My next foray into volunteering was to heed a simple but plaintive school newsletter call out:

Cake stall helpers required. Please call Julie on 9724 5566

I called the phone number, as required, and was slightly disappointed when I was not greeted with gushing declarations of thanks  for volunteering my "helper" services. In fact, Julie seemed completely disinterested in having heard from me. I'm pretty sure I heard her yawn in my ear as I explained why I was calling.

"Just come to the senior staff room at 2pm on Tuesday." She said wearily.

I turned up with my best helper apron on.  In my mind, I was imagining a fun communal vibe as all the helpers laid out cakes, gossiped and became lifelong friends.

I stood at the door of the staff room looking for Julie.  Then I spotted a bored-looking woman standing over a table full of cakes quickly put two and two together.

"Julie? I'm Penny, we spoke on the phone."

"Take this cake and put it on the table outside." She said, simply.

I did that and wandered back inside, keen to do some more "helping." I saw about 10 other "helpers" being directed by Julie to take one cake each out to the table.  No one was having much fun. No one was bonding, and apparently no one was really needed.  It seemed Julie was just humouring us all and allowing us to help her because she assumed we had such empty lives we had nothing better to do than ferry cakes one at a time from one table to another.

After the cakes were set out on the table we all stood in awkward silence and waited for further instructions from our Dear Leader. Julie just went about her business setting prices on the cakes, sorting out her float money and pretending the rest of us didn't exist.

In light of my expectations, the stiff silence and the lack of bonhomie was tragic.

After about 10 minutes of pretending it was normal to stand in an empty school playground with an apron on doing absolutely nothing I decided to make like a banana and split. I never saw Julie again and I vowed never to volunteer for anything with her name attached. Which pretty much cancelled me out of most volunteering activities at the school because Julie, in spite of her chronic lack of leadership skills,  was the Big Cheese of volunteering.

Lesson: Don't expect to make friends or be thanked.

3. Canteen duty

 

After ascertaining that P&C people didn't actually want the amateurs amongst us messing with their work, I decided to volunteer for a different department: the canteen.  Apparently they actually were desperate for helpers and added to that, I have done enough time in cafes and pubs to know how to put together a mean salad sandwich and count back change out of a five.

It was a promising beginning. The canteen coordinator was a lovely 50-ish woman who practically cried with thanks when I turned up. So far so good. Gratitude: tick.  She was also a very good delegator and gave me a big list of tasks to complete before the recess bell sounded.  Apparently I was the best helper she'd ever had and she kept telling me so.  I was having the greatest day ever.

Things went a bit pear-shaped however when I apparently did not properly police the two queues at the canteen window: one queue was for junior school kids and the other queue was for senior school kids. There was also a yellow line behind which they had to stand, UNLESS it was their turn, at which point they were allowed to step forward and state their business.

One particularly beguiling little girl kept turning up in the markedly shorter junior school queue. She would smile at me like the cat that got the cream and buy another chicken chilli tender before thanking me in a most charming way. I thought she was just taken with me, because I was so welcoming and motherly.

"She's not a junior!" A kid yelled at me. "You're supposed to tell her to get in the other queue!"

Pretty soon there was an angry mob of kids at the window demanding to know why I had let someone rort the system. Apparently this was a serious offence and "she does it all the time!" But I refused to be drawn into their petty dibby-dobbing mostly because I did not want to admit to myself that I had been "had."

"Queue, schmew!" I shouted finally over the dibby-dobbing rabble.

Which was when the orderly two-queue recess rush became a disorderly "everybody bunch at the window" free-for-all.

When my friendly canteen coordinator returned from the cool room to see the chaos I had unleashed she shouldered me out of the way and started shouting instructions about two orderly queues and staying behind the yellow line.

Some weeks later, the school-run not-for-profit canteen system went under and the canteen contract was put out to tender. I'm not saying my little 'queue schmew' stunt was the cause, but I have a feeling my amateur antics were the final nail in the coffin.

Lesson: Just because there's no pay, doesn't mean there are no rules.

 

4. Parent band

By this stage, I was extremely reluctant to stick my head up ever again.  But just when I thought I was out, they pulled me back in.

One morning, I was minding my own business at the local coffee shop when two of my favourite school mums (a particularly rebellious pair who had recently infiltrated the P&C and started wreaking havoc amongst the straight-laced Julies of the world) snuck up behind me and said:

"Ah-ha! Just the person we've been looking for!"

They had a proposition for me.  Would I put together a parent band to perform on the day of the school centenary fete? (Important sidebar: in another life, I was a relatively successful indie musician.)

My mission, if I chose to accept it, was to hand pick my own cracking hot band out of available parents and play a few awesome tunes to impress the dignitaries and politicians who would be walking through the school on the day.

"Your call, you do what you want, you're in charge. Just make it good." Said Agent 1.

They also had "intel"  A video of the previous parent band which they played to me on their i-phone.

"See this?" Said Agent 2. "This is what we don't want."

It was a bunch of parents having a really fun time making a very awful noise with drums,  Casio keyboard, flute and tambourine.  Apparently it was their version of House of the Rising Sun. It wasn't any version I'd ever heard, let's just put it that way.

And once again, flattery made a fool of me.  But in my defence this task was right in my comfort zone and the one area in life where I am actually comfortable taking on the role of leader.

What could possibly go wrong?

I accepted the challenge, imagining myself as a veritable Jack Black in School of Rock. I could whip these parents into shape and show them how to ... pop-rock-with-a-country-twist.  How hard could it be?

What I did not foresee was all the previous 'parent band' members, the have-a-go funsters,  assuming they would be included.  I decided to give them enough rope to hang themselves.  With my core musicians already in place ( a terrific bunch of naturally talented hobby players who were prepared to let me lead) we invited the others to come to rehearsal and show us what they had.

They came, they sang, they stank up the rehearsal room and remained completely obvlivious to the fact that they were creating a stench of mammoth, "Oh my god why would you want to do that in public?" proportions.

I remembered then that complete lack of talent always comes hand in hand with a complete lack of self-awareness.

Added to that, they expected the rest of us - the ones with the actual musical ability -to simply back them like a karaoke band. They came with all manner of ridiculous song suggestions, no charts (musical notation that might have helped us do their bidding) and the expectation that we would stand in the background spontaneously playing whatever song came into their head at the time.

After rehearsal I went home and sent an email to Agents 1 and 2,  tendering my resignation as "band leader." I couldn't deal with these nutcases and nor was I prepared to:

a) perform in public with them

b) be the one to tell them their services were not needed

As a last-ditch compromise, I suggested we allot them one song each in the hour-long set; but they were to bring charts to the next rehearsal and there would be no, House of the Rising Sun or Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend.

Agent 1 was having none of it. True to her cat-amongst-the-pigeons form she fired off a group email informing everyone bluntly and with no apology,  who was "in" and who was "out."

Then as a final "so there" she effectively signed my death warrant:

"Penny is in charge, what she says goes!"

Fun times in the playground after that, as I became, "The diva who kicked everyone out of the parent band."

But the show did go on. And in case you're wondering, my hand-picked musical cohorts and I rocked the weather shed on the day of the centenary celebrations.  We rocked it like  ... a bunch of 40-something parents playing some very acceptable country pop rock.

However, a lot of people still hate me and I can no longer enter the school playground for fear of having a "Kick me I'm a diva" sign taped to my back.

Lesson: Don't get involved, no matter what the circumstances. Just don't get involved. Ever.

 

5. The scone and coffee stall

But take heart, these tales of volunteering horror do have a happy ending.  When my eldest child started high school I took advantage of the "clean slate" and decided to give this volunteering thing one last go.  Going with my adage of sticking to my skill set, I put my name down for the "coffee stand" at the annual school open day.


Soon after volunteering my services,  a very organised and efficient email arrived in my inbox: I was allotted a one hour shift on the day and told where to show up including a very helpful map of the school attachment.

I turned up to find a well-oiled machine going on in the school's home ec. kitchen.  Students with chef's hats on were pumping out trays of perfect scones one after the other. Another set of students were then jamming and creaming them. And yet another two were manning the espresso machine in a most professional and efficient manner.

My instructions were simple: take orders, deliver orders to tables. I could do that. And I did.

Clearly, someone "big-picture smart" was in charge; all I had to do was follow instructions. It was busy and fun and I even made some friends.

Lesson: It's a numbers game. One out of five ain't bad.

 

Dumb arguments I've had with my kids

Before I had kids, I never thought I’d one day be standing outside a holiday house, (with all my friends watching on from inside) having a passionate argument with a small person about the merits of a sweaty cube of cheese.

My then-two year old had been holding the cube of cheese since we left Sydney – two and a half hours previous. When we got out of the car, I saw it had not been eaten, but was still clutched lovingly in his sweaty little fist.

One thing was for sure, that fetid cube was not coming into the house with us.

“Just drop it.” I said.
“No.” He replied, his fist closing more tightly around the prize.
“Just chuck it away.” I insisted.
“No.”
“Are you going to eat it?”
“No.”
“Then chuck it away.”

And with my friends watching through the front window (waiting to yell ‘surprise’ for my birthday holiday) my toddler and I engaged in a brief but violent tussle over a cube of cheddar.

Finally, might won over right and I prised open his fist (as he screamed blue murder) and gleefully discharged the cube off into the gutter.

That done, we grumpily entered the house and had “Surprise!” yelled at us as my friends jumped out from behind a curtain (which was inexplicably the makeshift ‘door’ to the third bedroom.)

The whole thing was surreal, from the sweaty cube to my friends hiding behind a curtain that logically should have been a door.

The existence of children in your life  brings with it some pretty dumb arguments that you nevertheless find yourself getting quite het up about.

Here are some other dumb arguments I have had with my kids:

What’s heeeee’s name?

One Sunday, Max (then three and a half) was doing some acrobatic work on the coffee table when we heard the tell-tale ‘thump-waaaah!’ sound that signals you will be spending the rest of your day in the ER.

As we checked his partially detached ear and loaded him into the car I began to worry that along with a disfigured ear, he may have incurred some sort of brain damage from the knock to the head.

He had been very quiet and wasn’t even crying any more. I was starting to get really worried. And then I heard this from the back seat.

“What’s heeee’s name?”

This was our regular car argument: Max would point to a random stranger and ask me what their name was. 

The argument would go along the lines of: I dont know/but what’s hee’s name/ I don’t know/ but what’s hee’s name/I don’t know/but what’s hee’s name? ad infinitum until Max had exhausted himself and nodded off to sleep.

But this time, relieved that my son was obviously back to his usual programming, so to speak, I decided to play along.

“Barry.” I replied.
“What’s heeee’s other name?”
“McBarry.” I said triumphantly. “His name is Barry McBarry.”

And so began a long tradition of naming random strangers out the car window.

Madge McBadge, Ray MacEnray, Jan McPutty and Helen Curlybones (an old lady with scoliosis) just to name a few.

 

A nun is not a nut

Max and I once had a very lengthy and heated exchange about whether or not nuns were nuts.

My point was: just because she’s chosen to dedicate her life to God, does not make her crazy (debatable, I know.)

His point was: But she’s a nut. Look at her.

(To be fair to him, she was wearing the traditional garb and swanning about the streets of Leichhardt like Mother Superior from The Sound of Music.)

But it was the principle that was important so I decided to tell him a thing or to about tolerance and difference and religion and how seriously some people take their dedication to The Big Guy Upstairs.

He just kept insisting that she was a nut.

At which point I thought he was pretty young to be making judgements about other people’s life choices and I told him so …

Which was when  I realised that he was only four and he thought the word for a nun was ‘nut.’

No one is getting in the door until I can actually get to the door

 

We have this argument every weekday afternoon at approximately 3.20pm.  Coming home from school, my three children charge the front door so that they might be the first through it. But it’s a small porticoe and if they bunch around the front door, the keymaster (me) cannot actually get to the door and it brings proceedings to a grinding halt.

But all of them refuse to give ground. For some reason being the first one through the door is of utmost importance and something not to be surrendered under ANY circumstances.  So we stand at the front door in a bunch while I invoke the usual prophecy,

“No one is getting in until I can get to the door.”

It usually takes about five minutes for them to figure out (again) that the lady with the keys speaks the truth.


I know it’s hard to believe, but I actually know more about ’80s era retro music than you do


My eldest son, (now 14) is a real music buff and to be fair, he has very good taste. He prides himself on knowing everything about everything when it comes to music and bands. He loves Nirvana and finds it hard to fathom that I once played on the same stage as them (Big Day Out 1992) But here’s the proof if, like him, you don’t believe me. (That’s me at 0:58 with the short bobbed hair worrying that no one is going to turn up.)

But I digress, (impressive, or WHAT?)

Recently we had a very heated argument about whether Paul Weller from the poncey 80s band, The Style Council was the same Paul Weller from the very retro cool post ’60s band, The Jam.  Max simply could not accept this as fact and to be fair, it is pretty fantastical when you consider songs like, You’re The Best Thing against, A Town Called Malice.

I have not yet been able to prove that the two Paul Wellers are never in the same room together, and so Max still does not accept this musical aberration as truth.

When it is cold outside, it is preferable for one to dress as though it is cold outside

 

Conversely, when it’s 38 degrees outside, it’s logical to wear shorts, not long pants and a giant army overcoat.

When you go on holiday, packing your bag usually means packing some underwear

 

Have you packed?
Yes.
Did you pack everything you need?
(exasperated) YES!
Are you sure?
YES!
Did you pack underwear?
(Embarrassed silence)

Just because I don’t go into your room, doesn’t mean you can convert it into a rubbish tip (and similar versions of same)

 

This is essentially a very tricky definition of  jurisdictions: if it’s their room, doesn’t that make them the boss of it?  I have not been able to find a legal precedent (that doesn’t put me in the same category as say, Hitler or Mussolini)  that will effectively blow their argument out of the water.

Dessert is not a basic human right

 

My kids act like I am some kind of heretic who should be reported to a higher authority whenever I declare that they don’t actually NEED dessert.

The argument comes about when we run out of ice cream, at which point they start rocking the fridge back and forth like rioters.

I have tried to explain to them the logistics of replacing the large four litre tub of ice cream BEFORE the current one is used up and that sometimes there might be ONE DAY where the running out of the old ice cream does not perfectly line up with the buying of the new ice cream.

But they just act like they want to report me to the police.

“You don’t actually NEED dessert.” I say.

This stops them in their tracks. They all stand stock still and make the sign of the cross.

“Devil woman.” They hiss in a frightened whisper.

When travelling three minutes to school, does it really matter who sits in the front seat?

 

I understand this obsession on a long car trip … but three minutes, seriously, you can’t sit in the back seat for three minutes without bitching and moaning the entire way?

 

No you can’t buy crap on ebay with your own pocket money …

 

Because when it comes and it’s crap, you cry. Every. Time.

What dumb arguments have you had with your kids? 

(That's a rhetorical question BTW, don't feel obliged to answer it. It just seemed abrupt to end a post without asking what you've been up to.) 

Why are we not extinct?

Have you ever looked at the animal kingdom, then looked at humans, then back at the animal kingdom, then back at human beings again and wondered why human offspring are such a pain in the date to take care of?

Baby giraffes, for example, just schloop out, get up and go.  There's none of this, 'Ooh make sure you support his head or it will fall off ...' malarky.

And you don't see Mama Giraffe patting her newborn to sleep in elaborate ways, or force-feeding it solids while it turns its head this way and that to avoid the spoon (probably because giraffes don't use spoons but that's a whole other area to do with opposable thumbs versus hooves) or having an argument about the shape of the leaf she's just proffered Baby Giraffe as a morning snack.

I'm sure, there is a scientific answer to all of this: something to do with the fact that our brains, unlike a giraffe's, are not the size of a pea, something to do with walking on two legs (means your pelvis is narrower so the baby has to come out earlier) and the overall sophistication of the human brain and how wonderfully complex it is and optimising cognitive and motor neurone development and metabolic rates blah blah blah blah BLAH!

But all that science doesn't change the fact that some aspects of human parenting are just much harder than they should be.

And if we are making such a meal of this most basic survival tactic (raising children to make sure the species is propagated) how are we not extinct?

 

Here are 10 things about human parenting that should be easy, but are actually ridiculously difficult

 

1. Sleeping

 

Subsection a) Newborns

If babies are so tired? Why don't they just go to sleep? It's not hard. And it's not like they've got a million things on their mind that are whirring around and around tormenting them. As far as I can see all that is on a baby's mind is: boobs, soil pants, be cranky cos I can't sleep.

What's the problem baldy? This is the time in your life when you are allowed to sleep the day away and no one will judge you.  Make hay while the sun shines you crazy fool!

Subsection b) Toddlers

Alls I'll say on this is: what is not to like about an afternoon nap? I cannot think of one thing (apart from maybe dribble on the pillow, but even that is not a dealbreaker for me.) I don't have one bad thing to say about the concept of an afternoon nap.

 Subsection c) Children

 

Why is bedtime such an area of total avoidance tactics for kids? I love bedtime. I can't wait to get in there and get me some shut-eye. Why are kids so averse to going to bed? If sleep is so essential to brain development and survival in general, how are kids not EXTINCT if they don't even like sleeping?

2. Eating

 

Subsection a) Breastfeeding

While some women find this easy, there is a large section of us for whom this whole suckling your own young thing is an unmitigated disaster.  This should be a no-brainer.  You're a mammal. You give birth to something, you feed it.  We all have the equipment. Why is it so hit and miss?

The animal kingdom does not seem to suffer such extreme existential difficulties as humans: that is because the animal kingdom has 'innate behaviour.'

Breastfeeding should be 'innate behaviour.'  So why do some of us just suck at it? (pardon the pun) And then we have to endure the expert advice and the theories on why it's not working and the weird rigs to make things work and the specially shaped pillows and the 'football hold' and the 'make sure you've got a quiet place and a drink of water to rehydrate' and the nipple creams and ...

This stuff should just .... work! How are we even still here?  Why am I not extinct?

Subsection b) Feeding toddlers

Again, this should be a no-brainer. If a toddler wants to live, why don't they just eat what they are given?  Why are they such fussy little f***ers? Who gave them the right to throw their food on the floor while we kow-tow around them ducking and weaving and just praying that something of some nutritional value will go into their mouths.

How has it happened that we waste our time doing elaborate things with food to try to force our children to do something that should just be innate behaviour?

Again, how are we all not extinct if this is the way our young behave? It's absurd!

Subsection c) Feeding children

Some years ago before I had kids, I saw an episode of Oprah featuring Nigella Lawson. Nigella was there to give advice on feeding a family and was presented with a particular family of six.  There were four kids and every single kid had a different food fetish: Grace didn't like peas, but she did like beans, Tom didn't like beans OR peas but he did like pasta, Hannah didn't like beans OR peas OR pasta but she did like steak ... Riley only ate foods that were white and they could not touch each other on the plate and so on and so on.

I was AGOG! I was HORRIFIED!

This poor wretched woman had to make four different meals every single night.

I did not know how she was not sitting in the corner rocking back and forth.  I also did not know that I was looking at my future.  Not the four kids named Grace, Tom, Hannah and Riley, but the poor wretched woman who had to make multiple meals every evening for fussy kids with dumb food fetishes.

 I know it's partly my own fault for not being tougher on them but COME ON!
This whole eating thing is pretty essential to survival. Do you want to be a dodo bird?

3. Toilet training

 

This is another area of child development that I cannot reconcile with the idea that supposedly we are the most evolved species on the planet. Surely the transition from pooing in your pants and having it squish all over your arse to realising that it feels much better to just let it drop away from you into a receptacle should just be innate: a sudden realisation one day, that you do not want to sit in your own excrement any more.

Why have we evolved into a species that has to be 'taught' how to go to the toilet properly?
Kittens know this stuff! Kittens!

Aren't we supposed to be smart? If we're so smart, why are our kids running around with poo catchment devices strapped to them? Isn't that physical proof that we are in fact, as a species, a bit simple?

4. Getting dressed

 

Subsection a) pyjamas to clothes

It would seem to me, that getting dressed is just something that has to be done. It's a non-negotiable requirement of being human: like, not sitting in your own excrement beyond the age of four.   It's not something that should ever be up for "debate." So why do kids bitch and moan and carry on and try everything they can to avoid getting dressed in the morning?

Subsection b) clothes to pyjamas

I think I have written before about my kids' penchant for sleeping in their clothes. Once they have the clothes ON, they don't want to fuss around with pyjamas at bedtime. Is it so hard to pull your shirt up over your head, replace it with a pyjama shirt and then do the same on the bottom half of your body? And those pyjamas are right where you left them, by the heater, on the living room floor.  I'm doing everything I can to facilitate the process.

Subsection c) Oral hygiene

What is not to like about having a mouthful of minty freshness and clean teeth? What is not to LIKE???? Why is it a continual battle to get kids to brush their teeth: morning and night. I've given up on morning, I just don't have time to say the same thing over and over to each child five times. I've decided to save my breath for more important things like, "GET DRESSED!"

And if good oral hygiene = good health and good health = survival, why do children rail against it so fiercely? 

5. Getting in the car

 

When my kids were little and I had to strap them into car seats and five point seat belts every time we needed to go anywhere, I couldn't wait for the day that getting in the car just meant saying, 'get in the car.'

My kids are now 11 and 14 and that day has still not arrived.

6. Starting school

 

This is controversial, but I don't get this.  Why is this still being "debated" and agonised over?  A teacher friend of mine really simplified this whole thing for me.  She said, "The year your child turns five, is the year they should be at school." See? Simple.  Don't think about it any more than that.

There's even a cut off date, I think it's 30th of June. And I do understand that when your child's birthday is pretty close to that date, it might be a line ball call. But I'm talking about the other end of the spectrum: the kids who are already five, or they turned five in February. Feburary! And parents are still going, "Hm, I don't know, I just don't know: to send or not to send."

And I acknowledge that every kid is different and some kids aren't socially ready and there will be exceptions blah blah blah. But within reason, people!

We're now seeing seven year olds blitzing their classmates in kindergarten because they got 'held back'  until they were 'ready.' Ready to what?  Be bigger and smarter than everyone else just because they had been on earth for two years longer ... evolving?

One thing I will say, people: school is not a competitive sport, if you are holding your child back, to give your child 'an edge' over their classmates, UP YOURS!

7. School awards nights

 

Having experienced both the public and private sectors in this area, I would have to say, that the public sector has it all over the private in this regard.

Here is the comparison:

At the state primary school, we go in, we sit down, principals says a few words. A FEW words. She's brief, she's concise, she's on message, she's on a needs to know basis.  Minimum amount of awards given out. Children move like well-trained soldiers up to stage and back to their seats.  Children stand up in seats, turn around to face us. Sing song. Cute awww, applause. The end.

At the private high school ... oh it's Power Point presentations from here to ETERNITY! It's keynote speakers it's 45 minute addresses from the principal, it's every freakin' kid in the form getting some bull**** award. It's a whole heap of information I didn't need to know, it's architect's drawings of the new science block its FOUR HOURS OF MY LIFE I WANT BACK!

(The free cake, however, is top notch.)

This stuff should not be a punishment. It should be something we all look forward to. But the fact of the matter is, we all dread it and no one wants to go.

8. The teen years

 

In theory, this is where we should all be able to just sit back and relax and take our foot of the parenting pedal a bit, enjoy the burgenoning young adults our kids have become.  And it is, to a point.

However ...

... just recently, I was rudely awakened to the fact that the teen years are going to be something like the toddler years again.  Your kid will do dumb things and you will constantly be on watch to make sure they don't hurt themselves.

9. Family dinners

 

When these go well, they are a joy to behold.

But just recently it occured to me (when I was dining with adult companions) that I have developed a terrible habit of bolting down my food like a pack animal. This is because when I eat with my kids there seems to be some race to finish eating and get away from the table.

If I don't inhale my food in one gulp, I will be left alone at the dining table, sadly consuming my food like a lonely spinster.

If eating together is so important for our social well-being, why are my children so plainly against it? 

10. Letting them go

 

After all this pain the arse stuff, we should be desperate to see them go, right?  So how come the thought of my youngest two starting high school next year makes me feel sad and like it's almost over? And how come every time I see a little blonde toddler who looks like my Max, I go, "Awww, little Maxie, I miss him so."

And what about when they move out of home? What will become of me? I never thought I'd be one of those mums, but despite all of the above, I don't ever want them to leave.
 
What's that about?  Why am I not EXTINCT?

If I had a girl ...

You always want what you haven't got. Here's my list of things I would do if I had a girl.

Above: how my daughter and I would get around town ... if I had one ... 

I am the mother of three boys. This means people often ask me if I would have liked a girl. The honest answer to that is: yes. I would have loved to have had a girl, quite simply because I am a girl and it would be great to have a like-minded soul in the house.

But if you write yourself a list, the pros and cons of boys versus girls basically balances itself out. Boys wee on the toilet seat, but girls steal your hair elastics. Boys are noisy and physically combative, but girls can be quietly devious and they really hold a grudge. Boys leave dinosaurs, LEGO and trucks all over the house for you to trip over; girls leave pink fluffy bits and creepy pony-things with hair-dos everywhere.

It’s much of a muchness.

I love my three boys, they are awesome company. We also like a lot of the same things: science fiction movies, Japanese food, walks in the park, Will Ferrell and Ben Stiller. We think the same things are funny and we all prefer the humanities over the hard core sciences.

But sometimes, just sometimes, like when I trip over another plastic machine gun or I have to scour the boys’ clothing section in the local department store, I fantasise about what it would be like if I had just one “pink one.”

Here is my completely fantastical and unrealistic list of all the awesome things I think I could do if I had a girl.

1. Do perfect plaits on someone else’s hair

 

I love doing other people’s hair. When I was a kid, I had an extensive Barbie collection plus a Barbie Fashion Face and hair-dos were my stock in trade. It’s not the same doing plaits on your own hair – you get sore arms and one of the plaits always turns out back-to-front.

If I had a girl, I would be able to do awesome plaits in her hair, plus we could experiment with things like French braids, chignons and sock buns. So many hair-dos and no-one to do them on.

2. Go shopping in the girls’ clothes section of a department store

 

FYI mothers of girls only: you are spoilt for choice in that completely fabulous girls’ wear section. You’ve got your smock top and leggings combos, you’ve got your little tops with ruffles on them, you’ve got your stripes, your florals, your polka-dots, your gelato colours, your rainbow motifs AND  you’ve got those completely adorable knee-high boots with comfy rubber soles (that I actually want for myself) and that’s not even counting all the cute dresses and fairy tutus!

Do you know what we have in the boys’ section? Two choices: your basic drug dealer/pimp look in a crazy patterned hoodie, or your boring and conservative nerd-goes-to-Sunday-School in checks and stripes outfit. So you’ve got your skateboard punk or your Christian Antioch youth. There is no in-between. There’s no room for a boy who say, likes fashion but doesn’t fit into either of the aforementioned categories.  Sure, you can get some good stuff if you go designer and splash around a LOT of cash (say in Pavement or Industrie) but I’m talking about the average middle-class budget here.

Sometimes, I wander into the girls’ section and just touch things. It’s heavenly in there.

3. Buy the mother-load of Barbie stuff

 

When I was a kid, only my American friend, Jordi had all the cool gear like the camper and the dream house, because she brought it all with her from the US. These days, what with internet shopping and the global economy, you can get that stuff here! Plus the outfits! The accessories! The complete range of personalities and looks!  These days, Barbie has ‘careers’ that define her – and a pink espresso machine.

Every year I ask my boys to get me a Barbie for Christmas. They think I’m joking. I’m not.

4. Decorate a girl’s room

 

With regard to soft furnishings, it’s a bit like the clothing thing. The choices for boys are: dinosaurs, spacemen, pirates, cowboys and masculine checks. It’s very hard to make something visually pleasing with that palette. Plus, girls tend to personalise their space a bit more lovingly.

My friend has two girls and their bedrooms are quite simply, delightful. They each have a little dresser with a mirror; there’s pink sparkly throw cushions on the bed and the bed itself is shrouded in the soft veil of a mosquito net. The word “LOVE” is spelled out in photographs of the family on the pinboard; there’s a row of coloured fairy lights pinned to the wall and a variety of shoe styles to suit every outfit and mood are painstakingly laid out in neat rows on a shoe rack.

Do you know what we have in my boys’ rooms? A big box full of guns, every available surface covered in LEGO, cowboy doona covers and dirty old sneakers thrown into a big plastic bucket.

5. Go shopping in a proper wafty, just passing the time, way

 

My boys are quite good shoppers, but for them, it’s a search and destroy mission. There’s no wafting around until something-you-didn’t-know-you-needed catches your eye. They need an objective, a plan of attack and then it’s mission accomplished and we’re out of here.

My mother, sister and I, have a completely different approach: we go in with a vague idea, we waft, we split up and keep in contact via mobile phones, we come back together and give opinions. If someone (usually Mum) puts their hand on a pair of jeans with a 12-inch zipper we say, “Seriously, how long does your zipper need to be?” If someone else (usually me or my sister) puts her hand on something from Perri Cutten we say, “Oh hello, Morag! Are you ready for the retirement home?” It’s a social activity, it’s collaborative and it’s relaxing.

There’s nothing relaxing about going shopping with boys: they’re either underneath the racks making the clothes spin with their feet, or they’re being all business-like and choosing the first thing they lay their hands on and saying: “Yep, that’ll do. Let’s go.”

It’s hunter versus gatherer and I’m a gatherer.

6. Watch dumb girly movies at the multiplex

 

Instead of wasting my time watching some dumb action movie with talking machines in it, I would like to waste my time watching some dumb romcom with talking hair-dos in it.

7. Pass on my vast collection of Alannah Hill cardigans, smart coats and fabuloso boots of every genre and style

 

I have a seriously fantastic wardrobe. There is so much good stuff in there. And no one to hand it down to. I’d love to keep it all in the family, so to speak.

8. Be a completely fearsome MOTB and GMOTB

 

That’s: Mother Of The Bride and Grandmother Of The Baby.

Let’s face it, the boy’s mum is a bit peripheral on both these things. It’s all about the ladies when it comes to weddings and babies. When I got married, my own mother-in-law was left completely out in the cold while Mum and I planned the whole thing in a completely inept and lacklustre way. It must have been excruciating for my MIL because a) she only has boys and b) planning fabulous events is her forte (this I know now).

But she wasn’t MY mum and it’s all about the bride.

It’s the same with babies. We all say, “Oh, let’s not tell anyone until we’re past the 12-week mark.” And then we immediately go and ring our mums. And would we take our mother-in-law’s advice on breastfeeding and baby routines? Neee-owww! (No) Maternal grandma is queen bee in this department, too.

On the upside, I won’t have to pay for any weddings. High five testosterone-forming-stem-cells!

9. Have the “now you’re a woman” talk

 

Just kidding.  How happy am I that I won’t have to do this? I shut my own mother down when she tried to have it with me 30 years ago.

10. Give extensive advice on frenemies

 

Recently my twins recounted a story where one of their friends had a little hissy fit because he wasn’t given the role he wanted during a classroom group activity. When the twins tried to explain their side of it to him, the friend shouted: “I don’t wanna hear it!” And huffed off to the other side of the classroom.

“Then what happened?” I asked, expecting that they had persevered with trying to appease him and engaged in some serious emotional entanglement and passive-aggressive argy-bargy.
“We just ignored him,” they said, and then they changed the subject and started talking about something else.

Oh, to be a boy! It was as simple as that. Someone got upset, they ignored him. That was that. They’ll all be friends again tomorrow.

I have had some serious “frenemies” in my time and I really feel I could impart quality knowledge on the topic of how to handle tricky female friendships. But my boys will never need my advice on that one.

Boys are so cut and dried. They have no stamina for grudge-holding nor do they heed any of the unspoken, “You should have known what I was thinking and feeling” subtext.

Which, come to think of it, is what I love about boys. And why I love having a house full of them.

So, do I really wish I had a girl?

No, not really. I may be missing out on shopping, planning a wedding and playing hairdresser, but on the upside, I didn’t have to go and see Frozen and I don’t have to guard my hair accessories. I just put them down and when I come back, they’re exactly where I left them.

Tell me, mothers of girls, is that what happens in your house?