Of Paper and Pills

I managed to write this on Thursday but didn't finish it until tonight:
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Ducking in this morning because Himself has done something nasty to his knee/leg and has asked me to take him to the doctors (It MUST be bad!). So I've had to bunk off work for a few lessons which has given me an opportunity to look st some blogs and to tell you quickly about my Year 10 lesson the other day.

I have given up on my Year 10s
(Exam Question: Here is some data on the number of fish eaten by Selma the Seal each day over a 60 day period. Is this data discrete or continuous?
Answer: continuous. Cos she just keeps eating.)

After 50% of them failed their mid year exam outright,
("let's look at this positively," said a colleague,"50% of them passed."
"No," I replied,"...48% passed and the other 2 % were borderline!")
I have decided to run a Stage 1 SACE Numeracy unit for this semester. It is a very practical series of tasks based on real life situations such as renting a house, running a car and paying off a loan.

The first task involves creating a spreadsheet to model the repaying of a loan. Once the formulae are entered you can change the interest rate, size and number of repayments in order to see what effect it has on the overall cost of the loan. The class have actually been pretty engaged in the task. I have no idea how much they have learned but they have been industriously entering numbers into the speadsheet so......fingers crossed!

Anyway, on Wednesday we reached the end of the lesson and I decided I would like to see the results of their efforts. With 5 minutes to go I said,
"OK everyone, put your name onto the spreadsheet and print it out for me."

There are 23 people in the class. There were 4 pages to each spreadsheet. There was one printer.

I cannot begin to describe the chaos which ensued.

I don't think I really understood the magnitude of my mistake until one of the girls came to me with three sheets of paper.
"Mrs A, this is all I can find of my assignment."
"But what happened to the other sheet? Can you not find it?
"Mrs A have you SEEN the mess over there?"

Note to self: create a system drop folder for electronic collection of future assignments;
pay for a tree to be planted to replace the ream of paper we wasted in multiple print outs of random pages of unidentifiable spreadsheets.

Live and learn.

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Update: Himself has a torn cartilage in his knee. I suspect this was sustained during the climb to take these photos, although the symptoms did not set in for a few days.

In the usual way of men he has been dealing poorly with pain. He has been instructed to take 50mg of Voltarin (anti-inflammatory) every 8 hours as well as 500mg of paracetamol, a task which he is somehow finding difficult to manage. On Friday night he came to bed at his usual time of 2am and very quickly began to thrash about, moaning.

Me: What's the matter?
Him: Auurgh. The pain! It's really full tilt. I can't lie any way that's comfortable.
Me: How long since you took your last painkillers?
Him: Ummmmmmmmmm (sheepishly)......I had one at 2pm this afternoon.......
Me: WHAT? You should have had one hours ago!
Him: I know, but it wasn't hurting before.
Me: I don't suppose you thought to bring the tablets to bed with you?
Him: Ummmmmmmmmm
Me: (flings herself out of bed into the 2 degree air temperature, gets dressing gown and stomps off down the relatively long hallway to find the tablets, snorting impatiently.)

We had a discussion the next morning about the timing of his tablets. It was agreed that he needed to take them well before he came to bed in order to give them time to 'kick in' and enable him to rest comfortably.

Last night circa 2am:
Him: Moan, aarrrgh, moan, can't get comfortable etc etc
Me: You took your tablets didn't you?
Him: Yes, I took them 15 minutes ago.
Me: FIFTEEN MINUTES???? I thought we agreed you would take them 8 hourly and give them time to take effect before you came to bed???
Him: Well it wasn't hurting and I wanted to leave it as long as possible so I could get some sleep.
Me: fumes silently
Him: Moan, aarrrgh, moan, can't get comfortable etc etc Moan, aarrrgh, moan, can't get comfortable etc etc Moan, aarrrgh, moan, can't get comfortable etc etc
Him: (after another 5 minutes of this) I think I might need another tablet.
Me: What? How many did you take?
Him: Er, well, one.
Me: WHAT???????? The doctor TOLD you to take two!
Him: Well, yes but I am trying not to take too many and.....
Me: Please tell me that you brought the tablets to the bedroom, just in case.
Him: Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Me:ARGH!(flings herself out of bed into the -2 degree air temperature, gets dressing gown etcetcetc)

Honestly. Exactly what had changed about his condition which would have lead him to believe he required less medication?? The knee is swollen for pete's sake! There are now pills stashed in the bedside drawers >:-(

I swear if men had babies, epidurals would be a sacrament.

image credit

Can You Enjoy The Harry Potter Movie If You've Never Read The Books (or seen the other movies)??

Well, Himself would say a resounding NO!

As with anything involving our family there is a story involved in this.

The day had gone relatively well with a few minor hiccups to my well planned schedule.
The Doctor's surgery was closed due to power cuts (which were over by the time I got there so I was well irritated); the BA flew back in on the first leg of an international rather than a normal domestic flight which meant a few anxious moments in Sydney as she didn't have a passport and was initially not allowed to board! Once she arrived here she had to go through customs and immigration so it was 45 minutes before she came through the doors.
Nevertheless we were on-time for her netball match where she once again performed well; her team victorious: 48-30.

After a nice visit with Kindergarten Friend's mum who is the most remarkable, sprightly 85 year old I know, we arrived back home minutes before Himself and Small Boy returned from the football, all within the prescribed time frame in order to get to the 6.10pm session of Harry. There was only one small fly in the ointment whom I shall call 'Two Doors' (as in; Two Doors Down), Small Boy's bosom buddy from down the road. He'd been to the football with 'the boys' as he frequently does and bounced back in to plonk himself down in front of the X-Box immediately.

"Two Doors," I called from the kitchen,"You have to go home now because we're going out."
His eyes never left the screen. "Ummm, I don't think my mum's home."
"What do you mean your mum's not home?" my head shot around the corner, looking somewhat accusingly at Himself who was all wide eyed and innocent. Hadn't he checked this out before he took the lad with him?????
"Well, the house was all dark when we came past," Two Doors continued, still playing X-Box for all he was worth.
"Well Two Doors," I shrilled,"Hadn't you better go down and check because we're going out in about 10 minutes??!!!"

As ever, he was unperturbed and cheerfully agreed to go and see where she was. Well, she wasn't. There, I mean. Nope. House locked up and in darkness as it was now nearly 6 o'clock.
"Don't worry," he chirruped, "I'll ring her."

No reply on her mobile.

At this point I was starting to steam. Obviously Himself had not communicated to her that we were going out because no-one goes out while their kid is out and doesn't come home and doesn't let him know where she is, right? He called Grandma. Grandma didn't know where Mum was either but she agreed to come over and pick him up.

"I'll just wait outside our house for you Grandma," Two Doors announced to her and hung up. He is nothing if not stoic.

Well of course, there was no way I was leaving the kid waiting outside his house in the dark for his Grandma who might take 15-20minutes to arrive. We all drove down and sat outside his house in the car with the engine running and the clock ticking on the session commencement time. Eventually I said to Himself, "You take the kids down and get popcorn etc and I'll wait with him and catch up in my car when his Grandma gets here."

I thought this was a perfectly reasonable compromise. Had I been driving and Himself in the passenger seat, I may have suggested Himself wait whilst I drove but that was not the situation and so I suggested what I thought to be the best option. For some reason this did not meet with Himself's approval; he was insistent that we should all wait whilst I felt that it was a shame if the kids missed out on the first part of the movie. When I asked why he wasn't keen on my suggestion he rolled his eyes and said that it was 'all too hard'. I'm not very good at seeing the other side of a situation if it hasn't been explained to me so I became quite frustrated by this recalcitrant attitude. As the minutes ticked by and the session time clicked over I announced that they should get going, emphasising the point by getting out of the car with Two Doors. Himself wouldn't take the tickets so I gave them to the BA and proceeded up the darkened drive as Himself, realising that I meant it, took off in a less than pleasant temper.

So here is the scenario: Himself, who had not wanted to attend a Harry Potter movie (he's more of a Jean-Claude Van Damme man) is now alone with the kids, a situation with which he is never comfortable, on his way to Marion, a venue he loathes. Hmmmmm. This was not going well. I had intended, until the mix-up with Two Doors, to 'fill him in' on the Harry Potter plot on the way to the cinema but naturally, this didn't happen. As a result, by the time I had delivered Two Doors to his apologetic grandmother (less than 10 minutes later fortunately) and caught up with the family, Himself was seated in the theatre with Small Boy, a face like thunder and absolutely no idea what the story of Harry Potter was all about. The previews were just about over and there was no time to redress the plot deficit so the BA and I sat back to make the best of it.

Now, let me just say here that I was so proud of my girl. She was duly upset by Himself's bad humour but calmly organised him and took the responsibility for queuing for popcorn while the boys found their seats. She was prepared to miss out herself to ensure Small Boy had his dad with him and saw the beginning of the movie. As it turned out we all saw the beginning of the movie so all was well but I was just really impressed by the mature way she dealt with things. On the other hand I was a little annoyed that she had to deal with them. A little case of 'who's the adult here...?' :-(

Because we arrived later, I was about as far away from Himself as you can be in a group of four seats and so I did not even have the opportunity to fill him in as the film progressed. Consequently, as the lights went up at the end, his first words to all of us were that it was 'the worst movie he'd ever seen, it made no sense at all, had no plot, no recognisable good and bad guys and was basically a lot of pretty pictures!'

Unfortunately he would not let it go at that and was incensed that he'd had to sit for nearly 3 hours trying to make sense of something so ridiculous! I suggested that it was 'just nice for us all to be out together' with the type of eyebrow raising and eye rolling that was meant to communicate: 'keep your opinions to yourself and let the kids enjoy the experience' but it was clear he didn't really 'get' what I was on about.

Back at home I managed to get him alone on the balcony and explain how his reactions impacted on those around him.
"When you get angry like that the kids feel uncomfortable."
"But they know I'm not angry with them!" he protested.
"No, that's the point, they don't! They feel responsible and it spoils their night."
He was taken aback by this and, to his credit, later apologised to them for being 'grumpy' but we did not come to any agreement on the quality of the Harry Potter film.

I thoroughly enjoyed it although I could see why he didn't. I do maintain however that you could make more sense of it than he chose to. I mean, Draco was obviously a bad guy, as were the dudes who kept turning into black smoke and who torched The Warren (that wasn't in the book was it?). But it was full of riddles and I can understand why that would be frustrating if you were just coming into the story.

Himself's point was that in the first films which he had seen, there was a discernible 'plot' which went 'over' the back story. Even if you didn't know all the history, the spider plot, the Azkabhan escapee or the hidden Philosopher's Stone had enough to keep you entertained whereas this did not. To some degree I think he is right but I think that it's the nature of the beast. The closer we get to the all out battle between Voldemort and the powers of good, the more the plot centres on the mystery of Harry himself.

So what did I think of the film? Well I liked Slughorn (Jim Broadbent is always terrific) and the emerging relationships between the main characters. I always love Snape, and knowing what I now know about his motivation adds a whole new dimension to his role. In a way I felt this film condensed things a lot more than some of the previous ones did but I will need to go back and read the book again to confirm that. Obviously the main points were all there.

So what do you think? Do you think the film assumed to much prior knowledge? If so, is it inevitable or should they have been trying to make a 'stand-alone' film? And finally, do you think I should ever bother getting Himself to accompany us to the pictures again?

I am open to all points of view here. Don't be shy! Tell me what you think!

If You Want Something Done....

"Your son needs some new trousers," I informed Himself last week. Small Boy had arrived for his holiday visit with nothing but a few pairs of shorts, one pair made of that thin shiny fabric basketballers wear. It has been about 9C in the mornings here lately.
"Doesn't he have some in his drawer here?"
"Yes, but they're all too short for him now and he's refusing to wear them. Take him down to the shopping centre sometime."

I must admit I was surprised when I didn't get too much argument. Himself notoriously loathes all shopping centres and our nearest major shopping centre in particular. It's one of the larger mall complexes and for some reason it never has enough car parks, sin number one in Himself's eyes. It is also deliberately convoluted in order to make you walk past as many shops as possible and past the thousands of determined women shoppers, who, according to Himself, always have their elbows extended.

So I was naturally quietly delighted when he agreed to take on the task. Normally he would handball this sort of thing to me but the week with Small Boy had been a little fraught due to Himself's constant work and even he could see that Small Boy was in need of some serious dad time. You see, no matter how good your relationship with your step mother is, when you're a boy, there's no-one like dad.

Later that day he phoned me, "We've been shopping," he said.
"Great, what kind of trousers did you get?"
"Well, we didn't actually get any trousers."
"What do you mean you didn't get any trousers???"
"Well, we got some wheels for his scooter instead."

You think I make this stuff up don't you?

I Had Always Suspected There was A Connection

Heard tonight on SVU

" The victim was beaten so badly in the crotch that his scrotum ruptured and he suffered lacerations to the penis."

"So where is he now?"

"Oh. He's in a medically induced coma to take the pressure off his brain."

Gender Differences: Lesson 3: Easter Picnics

Girls:

Pore over cookbooks the day before and select delicious recipes for potato salad and meatloaf. Pack the car with blankets, chairs, hampers and chilled wine. Make arrangements to meet wonderful friends and bring beloved parents.

Notice a grassy spot overhung with willows and surrounded by other groups of happy picnickers with the additional bonus of available car parks. Grit your teeth as you are driven past this spot.

Set up blankets and chairs in a secluded location and proceed to lay out the delightful and varied efforts of your culinary labour. Serve your beloved family and share with wonderful friends. Sit back and enjoy a glass of wine on a perfect day (not too hot, not too cold) with delightful company and conversation, cute kids and a walk in the bush. Joyfully spot the occasional emu/rabbit/kangaroo/freight train or squirrel depending on your interest and level of delusion.

Boys:

Reluctantly agree to attend. Hide confusion and disappointment when you realise that Girls want to have a 'Tailgate Picnic Feast' (TM) rather than a barbie. Reluctantly place all items, determined by Girls to be essential, into the car. Pack all items you deem essential into the car.
Complain about the amount of stuff being transported.

Arrive at park. Drive past a grassy spot overhung with willows and surrounded by other groups of happy picnickers with the additional bonus of available car parks. Too many people. Fail to notice Girls' disappointment.

Locate a quiet, out of the way place with no other people around (in order that you can commune with nature) and ensure it has more prickles and high weeds than any other similar location. Unload essential items.Gratefully accept some namby pamby food from wife, wonder why there is v little meat in the meatloaf and commence bluetooth connection for next phase of the Great Ocean Challenge Thingy >:-(

Realise you cannot get an internet connection in this secluded, natural location.

Make hurried apologies and drive off in a cloud of dust 'looking for a high spot'; search fruitlessly for an hour; decide to go home and make the connection leaving family stranded in the National Park and carrying numbers of essential items in the car with you (eg tissues/handbags). Return an hour and a half later and wonder why the car is packed and everyone ready to leave within 10 minutes of your arrival.

Make sheepish apologies to Girls for three days afterwards.

Advice to Fathers

In response to this post, Chris wrote

"I do think that you're right that the kids crave the discipline and control more than they would like to admit. But I'm such a wimp about trying to apply it! That's going to have to change, I suppose."

Chris, you sound a lot like Himself. I have to ask...what are you men afraid of? Himself tells me straight. He is afraid his kids won't love him. I cannot make this point strongly enough.....if your foundations are good, if you spend time with your child, are interested in your child, talk to your child KNOW what they are doing, who they are playing with etc..then your child will NOT hate you for applying discipline! Ensure you have a good relationship and the rest follows. From time to time they will tell you they hate you. Because they can. Because they know it's safe to do so. Your feelings for them won't change.

The key thing about applying boundaries is that you do it with love, or at least 'impassionately'.
Be calm and firm. Be the rock they can dash themselves against and still be there to gather them up when the storm is over. Be consistent. Mean what you say. Do not hold a grudge.

But do hold onto your Flaming Sword.

image credit: www.kinn.org.uk/html/what_is_best_for_me_.html

A Delayed Shopping Trip

"I've explained to the Small Boy how boys shop," my husband informed me just before Christmas. "We sit outside first and decide what we want, then we go in, go straight to the places we need and get what we want."

Uh-huh. There are a few gaping holes in this plan and I, being the loving wife I am was quick to point them out to Himself.


a) You will not necessarily get the best price by this method, nor even the best quality item.
b) What if the shop doesn't have it.
c) (and this is a bit of a girly one I have to admit) what if what you THINK you want isn't what
you want when you get in there and see the fabulous array of choices available???

Huh??
Huh???

But even this is insufficient explanation. You see darling husband, shopping is an interaction.

Today my mother and I went on the shopping trip I have been wanting to go on since she arrived. I had toyed briefly with the idea of doing this with her on my birthday until I realised I'd told her it was ok to go out to lunch with some of her old friends. Today we caught up on the missed experience.

There are many things which made this trip different from the frenzied buying sprees of the week before Christmas where she certainly accompanied me, and I her. For instance, there were just the two of us. We didn't really have a time limit. We had one or two small jobs to do but no grand mission.

Shopping is interaction dear husband. For example, today my mother and I learned what size we both now take. As a result of this we discussed exercise. We also discussed her experiences with a masseur and the benefits thereof!

We remembered that we had different tastes in things and that was ok! We agreed that the majority of current , disposable fashion looks like it is made out of dishcloths! We talked about her new cleaner (as a result of dishcloths) and I learned how she had found her and how Mum's back gives her so much trouble now that her cleaner comes mainly to push the vacuum cleaner which is too heavy for Mum.

During lunch we laughed over the poor quality of the 'wrap' she ordered and discussed our relative weight gains and need for healthy eating. As a result of that we started to talk about Himself's weight and health. As a result of that we started to talk about wills, estates and how our respective children would fare 'when the time comes'. What arrangements had we both made? What is the best way to make them? Who will be OK? Who will struggle? What would happen if Baby Angel was left on her own.....all tricky questions, essential for discussion and all difficult to 'bring up' artificially. They just come up naturally over lunch in the Mall.

In watching the interactions of parents and children we compared notes on parenting. She told me where she thought she went wrong. I told her how wonderful the years were I spent with her when I was a new mother. From there we discussed friends and their children and how they were all doing.

We went searching for a pair of earrings for me and got earrings and a necklace for her. We switched the subject of the search to a new silver cross for me and touched on matters of theology and faith as a result.

I drove her home although she insisted she could catch a bus (41C.....I think NOT) thus reinforcing her worth to me. I would not let her pay for petrol, establishing again my independence, adult status and desire to bless her by simply taking her home. We discussed the statement 'allow me to bless you' afterwards. More faith and theology.

We both agreed we had had a wonderful expedition. We had found out more about each other. We had underlined and reinforced important aspects of our relationship and got a couple of nice purchases as a a reminder of our trip.

Are there men who see shopping in this light? Is it a gender thing or a personality thing? Are we foolish in suggesting our men are missing out on something when they do not embrace the 'shopping trip'? Are there other ways men do this or is it simply that my beloved is one of a group who do not desire the underlining, reinforcing and even defining of relationships?

*sigh* I would appreciate any enlightenment you blokes can extend.
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NB: Picture above shows Mum and I on Christmas Day (just before I collapsed into bed AGAIN) with her new shears.

"How the &$#@ am I supposed to get THESE in a suitcase to go home????"
(I patiently showed her the removable handles. Just don't put em in your hand luggage Ma)

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Sports Update: Bad day on the waves but it was a strategic move. This will improve their handicap! Also a delightful friend (who is winning) will give them some rigging tips tomorrow!!

Man in Charge

Saturday morning, a sleep in at last. Drowsily 'coming to' and rolling over luxuriously in the warmth of the quilt to see the crisp blue sky framed through the window. Interesting sound from the depths of the house. Roll over again and snuggle down. Nagging sound, click click click. Drift back off with the knowledge that I don't have to be up for another 30 minutes....another flurry of clicks. What IS that?

Lightning bolt. I am now sitting bolt upright in bed. The bellow comes from the depths of my lungs.

"Please tell me you are not letting that boy run around this house in his FOOTBALL BOOTS!!!!!!!!!!"

Silence. More clicks and hurried footsteps, a door slam, car in the drive.

Cowards.