Boys like skirts too...

Turi had his first 'grown up' ballet class today (we've been going to 'mummy and me' classes for a while but he's finally graduated).  He was so excited and so well behaved.  The only slight hiccup was that he wanted to wear a skirt like all the girls.  I can completely understand where he is coming from.  All the little girls get to wear special ballet outfits with leotards, crossovers and twirly practise skirts while the boys just have to wear black leggings and a white bonds singlet.  He wanted something that felt special.  So I let him wear fairy wings to class today so that he didn't feel too left out.

Which brings me to my point tonight.  Everyone is so caught up with raising their 'non-gender' stereotyped girls that we often forget how narrow the gender expectations are for our boys.

We are going to a friend's wedding on Friday.  I took Minty out shopping and bought her a new dress… velvet with tulle and flapper fringe for extra fantastic twirling.  When we got home she paraded it for Turi and he asked me hopefully, 'do I get one of those too?'  I'm fairly sure that the pair of slacks and shirt that I had in mind isn't going to cut it.  So I took him out shopping today to find something that would meet with his approval.  He whispered to me with excitement, 'I'm going to look fabulous!' and then proceeded to pick out a faux leopard fur vest from the girl's department, some oversized sunglasses and some black shiny gum boots.  Suffice it to say we came home empty handed.  Gender stereotypes aside, I wasn't about to let a child of mine go to a wedding in an ensemble that looked chillingly like something 'Scary' Spice may have worn in the early 90s.  He cried all the way home.

I like to think of myself as a liberal minded parent but the few times I have let Turi go out in a skirt it elicited such alarmed and tortured looks from (I thought) otherwise progressive parents that I'd rather not subject him to that and burst his bubble of innocence.  People's facial contortions generally resemble someone trying to politely swallow an unexpectedly unpleasant mouthful at a formal dinner party. 

Which begs the question what is it about a boy in a skirt that is so unnerving?  And why is boys' fashion so boring?  And even more importantly what on earth is Turi going to wear to this wedding?!?

I liked us better when we all ate sugar… or reasons the internet is exhausting

Can someone please come over here and activate my almonds, make me some kimchi and a kefir herbal tea?  Failing that, can you stop writing about your sugar free, raw milk, anti-grain, lacto-fermented foods so I can go back to eating my palm oil laden cadbury cream eggs in peace?  I don't really want to know about how you're skipping around in your pre-baby skinny jeans and now have the sex drive of a 16 year old.

I'd rather go back to the days when you posted amazing pictures of triple chocolate cupcakes and mile high cream pies so I can gaze at my food fantasies, instead of writing things that make me feel like I am ingesting some kind of toxic chemical cocktail every time I pour myself a glass of 'pus infested' milk.

Eek rant over.  You know I love you all… please tell me more about your 'journey' to a whole foods kitchen.  

Now I'm off to prepare some vegan, coconut, sugar-free ice-cream and soak some oats for tomorrow's fermented porridge.  No seriously, I really am.

In which we peek under the sea and see First Love...

Yesterday we went back to the big smoke and took the kids to the aquarium (or the 'maquarium' as Minty fondly refers to it).  It was a fun day out, though I did feel a little sorry for the penguins who really didn't look like they belonged in captivity (like the zoo scene in Happy Feet brought to life, minus the tap dancing).  Also, whoever is behind installing a room of coin operated arcade machines and rides near the exit should be shot.  Isn't it enough that we have to navigate our overstimulated children through the gift shop on the way out without adding another dimension to the horror?

Note: today's photos were taken by the Mr. (except of course for the one he's in - he's clever but not that clever!)

In the evening we went to see First Love.  I hadn't been to the cinema in about 2 years so this was a bit of a treat, and to make it even more special, Claire, the film's director is a friend of ours.  I can't tell you how inspiring it is to meet someone who is living their dream.  I'm sure when Claire first told people she wanted to make movies about surfing there were plenty of people who thought it would never really happen.  And yet here she is at age 24, with her first full length feature film being released at village cinemas around the country.  If you haven't already seen it, I'd really encourage you to check it out - it's a really enjoyable film even for those of us who are not surfing obsessed!

First Love The Film - Trailer from First Love on Vimeo.

Introspection: a belated post-mother's-day reflection on motherhood

All my adult life I've had a recurring nightmare that I am sitting an exam and don't know any of the answers. I haven't studied, and I don't just mean I haven't done the pre-exam revision. I haven't studied for the whole semester, haven't done any of the reading, sometimes haven't even turned up to class at all. Last night I was sitting a history exam on the Russian Revolution. I couldn't answer a single question, my pencil didn't even write a single thing on the paper. Clearly it's a dream about failure but also I think it's about not reaching my full potential, whether because of laziness, arrogance, fear. Unless of course the dream is some freudian psychosexual exploration (just saying, I'm not a qualified analyst or anything!).

You might be wondering what is triggering my nightmare at the moment given that I'm full time at home with the kids. Well last night I was reading this post about confessions of unclean habits in the kitchen. The post itself wasn't anything that shocking, (though who knew the microwave had a filter???), but the commenters were like a frenzy of piranas attacking the filth of the people confessing. What struck me was the complete lack of compassion or imagination on the part of those criticising that they couldn't conceive of a single situation in which someone may not have the inclination to douse their kitchen in bleach every evening. Those who were defending the behaviour seemed to feel the need to list all the things a modern women has to juggle as an excuse for not having time, full time work, volunteering, caring for sick relatives, lazy husbands etc. It really came across that women didn't feel like raising their kids was enough of a reason to be busy and tired.

I guess in this post-feminist era motherhood isn't really valued in and of itself. We feel pressured to be more and do more. Occasionally childless women (most notably Oprah) will patronisingly and insincerely proclaim that full time mums have the hardest job on earth. Clearly it isn't. I'd hazard a guess and say that trauma surgeons, and counsellors of victims of sexual assault (just to name a few) have harder jobs. On the flip side others seem to assume stay at home mums are sitting around all day watching Jerry Springer and picking fluff from their belly buttons. I myself am guilty of buying into this loafing theory, often introducing myself as 'just a stay at home mum'.

I choose to stay at home because I think I have something valuable to offer my children. I work hard to make our time together productive and worthwhile. I love it and I don't think I'm wasting my intelligence or potential by doing it. I don't think I've sold out or that I'm lazy. Frankly I don't feel like I'm in some holding pen waiting to rejoin my 'real' life when my kids are old enough. That said, I do get tired and my kitchen floor isn't clean enough to eat off (no apologies). I read somewhere that having kids makes your life twice as hard and twice as good. So very true.

Anyway, that's enough navel gazing for one evening. I hope you all enjoyed mother's day on the weekend. The picture at the top of this post is of some canvasses Minty painted for her Grandi for mother's day.

Apologies if this post was a drivelling rant that lead nowhere, but it's my blog and I'll rant if I want to!