The two of us loaded our overnight gear into the boot at the front of the old 'Volksy'.
Just the two of us.
That meant that the little red headed kid got the prime front seat propped up right next to dad. In 1973, dad took me on a journey up the old Hume Highway to Glenrowan in North East Victoria. We were going to visit his old mate Tony, who had been best man at mum and dad’s wedding in 1966. I must have been all of five or six years old. It is funny hearing dad tell the story – it is a vivid memory for him too.
It was deep into summer and the day we left, was a scorcher. Dad’s account is that five minutes after leaving the south-eastern suburbs of Melbourne, we had to stop for a cold can of cola at our local servo. I was asking for lunch by the time we got to Broadmeadows.
It is my earliest memory of having time one-on-one time with dad.
Tony ran a farm. Big tractors and machines, fields of wheat and old corrugated iron buildings. Dad and I stayed in the old ‘sleep-out’. There were louvre windows with rectangles of thick glass. I remember the sound of the cicadas well beyond dark. The mosquitoes were more the size of dragon flies and buzzed around us all night. I rang dad to get his memory of this. He reckons a cool breeze floated through for few minutes around 4am and then it was hot again. But you know what? I was loving it. This was my time with dad.
I reckon Dad did something else by taking me on that trip, he embedded the value of one-on-one, parent-child time. That six year old boy from 1973 is now a dad himself. And just because he runs programs for young people and their parents/mentors doesn’t give him any special claims on perfection (just ask my two teenage kids). No parent is perfect. In making the time, however, Dad made me feel special, a feeling that lasts through time. No-one can take that away from him, from us. It is something that he taught me to do with my own daughter and son. The warmth of the memory is offered as evidence to support the idea that one-on-one time strengthens a child’s resilience.
The lesson from dad has come in handy this year. My son, now fifteen years old is well in the depths of rampant adolescence. He asked if we could repeat an overnight bike ride we had done a few years before. To be invited by him, at this stage of his life, was an opportunity not to be missed. So in the second term holidays we rode the Warburton trail… stayed in a room at the pub, had a counter meal and rode back the next day.
It’s the little things, I’m sure, that will stick through the years. We had taken a footy with us on the ride and a hell of a game of kick-to-kick evolved… nothing unusual there, only that we played it in our room in the pub. We were seeing how many marks we can take in a row without dropping one. It was so much fun. Sometimes in raising kids through the adolescent years, it is hard to believe there is anything remotely funny about that task. We laughed on this trip… saying stupid things and just laughing. It was an oasis.
Then, in the third term holidays Jack and I headed off on a road trip. My brother lives in Queensland and my wife and I agreed that it might be a good thing to give his older sister some quality quiet time in preparation for her Year 12 exams. The Mighty Lisa would stay with Amber and the two fellas headed off on an old fashioned road trip… we packed the car… and headed north.
We stopped in motels… bought Chinese take away in Narrabri… stayed with my brother and old friends over ten days and nights on this road trip up and down south eastern Australia. They were big drives.
Much of the time we were quiet… then one of us would ask a question, we would talk for a few minutes then go quiet again. I wonder how Jack might remember our adventures down the track. A few clues have already been picked up. I know he really valued those quiet times and rhythms. I know because he told his grandfather about the trip on the phone and how much he had loved the time together – just the two of us. His grandfather then told me.
Can you see the story turning full circle here? My dad taught me something by taking me on that road trip. Have I ever let him know how much I cherish the memory? I have now.
Thanks for reading. Do you have a road trip memory? Feel free to share yours in the space below.
Bill Jennings
www.time-space.com.au
P.S. You can find this article, called just the Two of Us, in the Parenting Ideas e-Magazine Christmas Edition amongst a whole bunch of other great articles by clicking here
Tuesday, 6 December 2011
Thursday, 1 December 2011
The First Pill
If you don't come from Brisbane, how often do you look up the BOM website to get a weather forecast? For this blogger it is at least once a year and a comforting traditional prediction is there for today... showers and thundery rain. Huey has not disappointed. Mother Nature's roulette wheel is spun around this time of the year, every year on the first day of the Brisbane Test.
If you are not a cricket fan, please endure this indulgence (the point is expanded soon). This day has memories flooding back through 40+ years of trying to find a way to see or at least hear live, the first ball of the First Test match of the Australian cricket season. Today's first ball of the first day of the First Test (affectionately dubbed the first pill by cricket tragics) happens to coincide this year with the first official day of summer.
I've got memories down through the years of the long summer days watching a Test up at my grandparents' house where they had an orchard in the Yarra Valley. All of the cousins had their special time to stay at Grandma and Grandpa's place. Mine was the long school holidays for two weeks some time in December or January. Back then, cricket was on ABC TV and there was only a budget for one straight-on camera down the pitch. So you saw the batman face-on one over and then the next over was from behind the wicket, so you would see the bowler coming in and the batsman's back. The first day of a season was often when we were still in school. One year the first pill happened at recess and the radio broadcast was piped out onto our playground on the loud speaker. I think by lunchtime Australia was nearly all out and Rodney Hogg (a fast bowler, not a recognised batsman) was our top scorer with 36 runs. As a teacher for 20 or so years, if the timetable had me scheduled for class when the first ball was bowled, my kids would see me frantically enter the room with a coat hanger. Shoved into the back of the telly that coat hanger became a makeshift aerial and together we'd watch a grainy picture of another opening to the international cricket season.
So, thanks for hanging in there - my expanded point is? Well, here's some questions for you. Think of the patterns in your year. What are the things that punctuate your year, that when they happen, great memories burst open? Is it the Myer Christmas windows? Is it an annual holiday place that even when you say its name quietly to yourself, you are taken back there?
At the heart of this, is that intangible feeling of warmth and security. I don't take it for granted. I can see a little kid sitting on a wooden bench seat in the old Southern Stand at the MCG for the Ashes Boxing Day Test of 1974. I was really grown up - seven years old (and like, nearly eight) there next to my dad. I don't even have to close my eyes to transport back to that time. What memories do you have from your childhood days that make you feel warm? Dad took me to my first day at the cricket and a life time obsession with today was born, of wanting to see the first pill flung in anger for the long summer ahead.
You're a young person reading this? Can you guess what special things you do right now, every year, that will be the memories that make you smile when you are forty, fifty or ninety-seven years old?
People who layer our memory, with good experiences, are giving us a gift that may help us to feel secure for perhaps even, a lifetime. We can give back by doing that for our kids now and in the future. At 11am today, Melbourne time, guess what I'll be doing?
What are the memories that make you feel warm when those times and places come back around? Who made them happen for you? What are the funny little details you remember?
Feel free to share your own thoughts and memories in the space below.
Bill Jennings
http://www.time-space.com.au/
If you are not a cricket fan, please endure this indulgence (the point is expanded soon). This day has memories flooding back through 40+ years of trying to find a way to see or at least hear live, the first ball of the First Test match of the Australian cricket season. Today's first ball of the first day of the First Test (affectionately dubbed the first pill by cricket tragics) happens to coincide this year with the first official day of summer.
I've got memories down through the years of the long summer days watching a Test up at my grandparents' house where they had an orchard in the Yarra Valley. All of the cousins had their special time to stay at Grandma and Grandpa's place. Mine was the long school holidays for two weeks some time in December or January. Back then, cricket was on ABC TV and there was only a budget for one straight-on camera down the pitch. So you saw the batman face-on one over and then the next over was from behind the wicket, so you would see the bowler coming in and the batsman's back. The first day of a season was often when we were still in school. One year the first pill happened at recess and the radio broadcast was piped out onto our playground on the loud speaker. I think by lunchtime Australia was nearly all out and Rodney Hogg (a fast bowler, not a recognised batsman) was our top scorer with 36 runs. As a teacher for 20 or so years, if the timetable had me scheduled for class when the first ball was bowled, my kids would see me frantically enter the room with a coat hanger. Shoved into the back of the telly that coat hanger became a makeshift aerial and together we'd watch a grainy picture of another opening to the international cricket season.
So, thanks for hanging in there - my expanded point is? Well, here's some questions for you. Think of the patterns in your year. What are the things that punctuate your year, that when they happen, great memories burst open? Is it the Myer Christmas windows? Is it an annual holiday place that even when you say its name quietly to yourself, you are taken back there?
At the heart of this, is that intangible feeling of warmth and security. I don't take it for granted. I can see a little kid sitting on a wooden bench seat in the old Southern Stand at the MCG for the Ashes Boxing Day Test of 1974. I was really grown up - seven years old (and like, nearly eight) there next to my dad. I don't even have to close my eyes to transport back to that time. What memories do you have from your childhood days that make you feel warm? Dad took me to my first day at the cricket and a life time obsession with today was born, of wanting to see the first pill flung in anger for the long summer ahead.
You're a young person reading this? Can you guess what special things you do right now, every year, that will be the memories that make you smile when you are forty, fifty or ninety-seven years old?
People who layer our memory, with good experiences, are giving us a gift that may help us to feel secure for perhaps even, a lifetime. We can give back by doing that for our kids now and in the future. At 11am today, Melbourne time, guess what I'll be doing?
What are the memories that make you feel warm when those times and places come back around? Who made them happen for you? What are the funny little details you remember?
Feel free to share your own thoughts and memories in the space below.
Bill Jennings
http://www.time-space.com.au/
Friday, 11 November 2011
The Things We Can Control
It is now ten years and two months since September 11 2001. As a global community we felt helpless for a while. In the last post, I described a paralysis of fear that struck me. A distinct moment snapped me out of that feeling and I promised more details...
I wasn't directly affected by the terrorist attacks on the USA but I do recall feeling real fear. Irrational evaluations of risk became part of my decision making. My team, Essendon were playing off against Brisbane on the last day in September at the MCG. Should I take my kids to the AFL Grand Final? Will the terrorists strike there next? Images flashed through my mind, of jumbo jets ploughing into the Great Southern Stand.
Such thoughts were real to me... thoughts I felt a bit embarrassed about, so I was reluctant to share them. Since then, I've discovered that many others felt the same way. For a period of time, I reckon a huge proportion of humanity felt lonely in the midst of unspoken fear.
On the first day of fourth term, 2001, my daughter was in Grade 2, eight years old and loving life. Heidi, the school receptionist called me at work to say that Amber had had an accident during sport. She had been looking the other way, turned for a moment and as she turned back her forehead crashed, at running pace, into a thick, hard steel basketball pole.
"We've called the ambulance Bill... I think she's OK... how quickly can you get over here?"
It took a quarter of an hour to get to Amber's school, to only discover that the ambulance had just left. Not sure what the statute of limitations is on minor offences but I must confess to driving pretty quickly for another fifteen minutes on to the hospital. So fast that I actually caught up to the ambulance and arrived to see my daughter as the doors opened out. She was in a bad way and we learnt a new word that day Cephalohematoma. A huge swelling, like a big bag of fluid, had bulged out on Amber's forehead. It was scary. Those 30 minutes of driving were intensely frightening. On reflection the fear was because of the unknown.
A few minutes later in the emergency room, Amber said "I'm scared daddy, please hold my hand".
"Of course sweetheart". She gripped tight.
Amber was physically sick a few times as we waited for the specialist. The doctor finally arrived on a day when minutes felt like hours. He calmly said that things actually looked much worse than they really were. She was going to be groggy and nauseous for a day or two yet but so importantly, she was going to be OK. Ten years on, Amber is 18 and sitting her VCE exams.
There is still a little trophy bump on her forehead. When she asked me to hold her hand, I wasn't frightened about all the bad things that had happened in the world, any more.
There was a footy coach in that time who had a favourite saying that now has become sporting cliché... "we only worry about the things we can control". That was hard to do, post-September 11. Holding Amber's hand was something within my sphere of control... I could help her when she was frightened.
I often wonder now, when we are frightened in some way, if the best way out is borne in the effort to help another. All the best with your exams Amber. It is so special that you are able to do them.
Feel free to write your thoughts and responses in the space below.
I wasn't directly affected by the terrorist attacks on the USA but I do recall feeling real fear. Irrational evaluations of risk became part of my decision making. My team, Essendon were playing off against Brisbane on the last day in September at the MCG. Should I take my kids to the AFL Grand Final? Will the terrorists strike there next? Images flashed through my mind, of jumbo jets ploughing into the Great Southern Stand.
Such thoughts were real to me... thoughts I felt a bit embarrassed about, so I was reluctant to share them. Since then, I've discovered that many others felt the same way. For a period of time, I reckon a huge proportion of humanity felt lonely in the midst of unspoken fear.
On the first day of fourth term, 2001, my daughter was in Grade 2, eight years old and loving life. Heidi, the school receptionist called me at work to say that Amber had had an accident during sport. She had been looking the other way, turned for a moment and as she turned back her forehead crashed, at running pace, into a thick, hard steel basketball pole.
"We've called the ambulance Bill... I think she's OK... how quickly can you get over here?"
It took a quarter of an hour to get to Amber's school, to only discover that the ambulance had just left. Not sure what the statute of limitations is on minor offences but I must confess to driving pretty quickly for another fifteen minutes on to the hospital. So fast that I actually caught up to the ambulance and arrived to see my daughter as the doors opened out. She was in a bad way and we learnt a new word that day Cephalohematoma. A huge swelling, like a big bag of fluid, had bulged out on Amber's forehead. It was scary. Those 30 minutes of driving were intensely frightening. On reflection the fear was because of the unknown.
A few minutes later in the emergency room, Amber said "I'm scared daddy, please hold my hand".
"Of course sweetheart". She gripped tight.
Amber was physically sick a few times as we waited for the specialist. The doctor finally arrived on a day when minutes felt like hours. He calmly said that things actually looked much worse than they really were. She was going to be groggy and nauseous for a day or two yet but so importantly, she was going to be OK. Ten years on, Amber is 18 and sitting her VCE exams.
There is still a little trophy bump on her forehead. When she asked me to hold her hand, I wasn't frightened about all the bad things that had happened in the world, any more.
There was a footy coach in that time who had a favourite saying that now has become sporting cliché... "we only worry about the things we can control". That was hard to do, post-September 11. Holding Amber's hand was something within my sphere of control... I could help her when she was frightened.
I often wonder now, when we are frightened in some way, if the best way out is borne in the effort to help another. All the best with your exams Amber. It is so special that you are able to do them.
Feel free to write your thoughts and responses in the space below.
Monday, 12 September 2011
The Tenth Anniversary of September 12
Today's post is released on the tenth anniversary of many of us going to work or turning up at school, the morning after the night before. The terrorist attacks in the USA of Tuesday morning September 11, 2001 were beamed into Australia in the evening. Here in Melbourne we are fourteen hours ahead of New York.
On that frightening night, because of where we live in the world, Lisa and I had some hours to work out how we would give our daughter (then eight) and son (five) the terrible news. What were we going to say the next morning? Many who read this blog may well have had the same challenge. Some of the young people who read this, only know the world as 'post-September 11'.
What did you say to your kids?
How was it explained to you?
We knew our daughter had a classmate, a Moslem girl. We wanted to prepare her in case there was unkindness directed at her friend. News was already emerging about a group called Al Qaeda.
So on the morning of September 12, our kids woke up to a world that had changed. We elected to be very general with the young fella - he had not started school at that time. For our eight year old girl, we offered what we knew at that point.
1. A very bad thing had happened to some people in America and many people had died.
2. The people who did it might be the same religion as her friend but that didn't mean that her friend's religion or her family were bad. Some people from all walks of life do bad things but most people try to be good.
I remember going to work and feeling as if, in a fog. The World Trade Centre renown as a 'global' workplace, hit home. We became aware that a colleague's brother-in-law was among the missing. He was never found.
What was to happen next? The uncertainty was so frightening. In fact, I had never felt so frightenend and I was 34. That fear permeated for a few more weeks, I did snap out of it, on the first day of Term 4. (I'll let you know how that happened in another post.)
If I was that frightened, it prompts a wondering about what the world has been like to live in, for our kids, these last ten years.
One year later in September 2002 the transcripts and recordings of the last phone messages of those trapped in the buildings were coming to light. At the time a dear friend was getting married. The celebrant noted that the messages had a commonality - all were expressions of love, nothing trivial and certainly nothing about tax returns or what furniture to buy next. Many people in the buildings left messages aware that they might be speaking their last words to the people they were calling.
In our private moments of sadness, what is truly important, becomes obvious. If anything good can come from this tragedy, it is that we all had the opportunity to stop, to consider what is truly important.
On this anniversary of 'the first day after' let your important people know what they mean to you. And if they are nearby give them a hug.
Bill Jennings
http://www.time-space.com.au/
On that frightening night, because of where we live in the world, Lisa and I had some hours to work out how we would give our daughter (then eight) and son (five) the terrible news. What were we going to say the next morning? Many who read this blog may well have had the same challenge. Some of the young people who read this, only know the world as 'post-September 11'.
What did you say to your kids?
How was it explained to you?
We knew our daughter had a classmate, a Moslem girl. We wanted to prepare her in case there was unkindness directed at her friend. News was already emerging about a group called Al Qaeda.
So on the morning of September 12, our kids woke up to a world that had changed. We elected to be very general with the young fella - he had not started school at that time. For our eight year old girl, we offered what we knew at that point.
1. A very bad thing had happened to some people in America and many people had died.
2. The people who did it might be the same religion as her friend but that didn't mean that her friend's religion or her family were bad. Some people from all walks of life do bad things but most people try to be good.
I remember going to work and feeling as if, in a fog. The World Trade Centre renown as a 'global' workplace, hit home. We became aware that a colleague's brother-in-law was among the missing. He was never found.
What was to happen next? The uncertainty was so frightening. In fact, I had never felt so frightenend and I was 34. That fear permeated for a few more weeks, I did snap out of it, on the first day of Term 4. (I'll let you know how that happened in another post.)
If I was that frightened, it prompts a wondering about what the world has been like to live in, for our kids, these last ten years.
One year later in September 2002 the transcripts and recordings of the last phone messages of those trapped in the buildings were coming to light. At the time a dear friend was getting married. The celebrant noted that the messages had a commonality - all were expressions of love, nothing trivial and certainly nothing about tax returns or what furniture to buy next. Many people in the buildings left messages aware that they might be speaking their last words to the people they were calling.
In our private moments of sadness, what is truly important, becomes obvious. If anything good can come from this tragedy, it is that we all had the opportunity to stop, to consider what is truly important.
On this anniversary of 'the first day after' let your important people know what they mean to you. And if they are nearby give them a hug.
Bill Jennings
http://www.time-space.com.au/
Tuesday, 9 August 2011
Census Night - counting the unpaid hours
It is Census night in Australia. Much has changed over the years and perhaps, many things have stayed the same. Families come in all shapes and sizes in 2011. So for that reason and because of a specific experience earlier this year, I found Question 48 on the 'Household Form', to be of particular interest...
Well Jacqui, the systems you can see I adopted were not as smooth as those of 'The Mighty Lisa'. In all seriousness, the seven weeks Lisa was away brought home to me all of the invisible work that she does. I say invisible, because the laundry never looked like this...
If the census was happening back in that seven week period, when I was a temporary single dad, I would have comfortably ticked the '15 to 29 hours' box. Tonight, I'll have to go through the past week and calculate. The reality is that with us back as a two parent set up, 'The Mighty Lisa' has racked up more hours than me. For sure. The statistics say that this is still the norm in most 'mum-dad' households. Simply, most mums do more. What I do know is that because of that seven week experience, we are getting closer to a balance, the work is appreciated and no longer invisible. I commend an experience like this to any dad... maybe the government could arrange to give all mums a holiday to bring home this reality!
Of course, as stated, families come in all shapes and sizes and in May this year, your blogger was chatting to Penny, at a Mother and Son night. Penny is a teacher with a year level leadership role. She kindly came along to assist at this Time & Space event at her school. It was in the time that I was a temporary single dad (my own dad was looking after my kids). Penny is a permanent single mum. She explained how she had dropped off her child at her mum and dad's place, a back up she explained she couldn't do without in her busy job. It was humbling as we swapped notes... a temporary single dad chatting with a full-time single mum.
Penny remarked, "When you're a single parent, there's no role-reversal... you have to do it all. It's me who goes out to the back yard to shovel up the dog poo!"
So as you are filling out your form tonight, think about all the people who are bringing up kids in lots of different situations. People doing what they have to do to help the next generation.
Respect goes out to all of you who do unpaid domestic work.
Whose work do you appreciate? Do you need to lift your own work rate? Who is someone you admire who is juggling heaps of roles and getting on with it?
Feel free to write your thoughts in the space below.
Bill Jennings
http://www.time-space.com.au/
http://www.billjennings.tv/
In the last week, did the person spend time doing unpaid domestic work in their household?Census night gives the perfect opportunity to make good on a promise to 'Jacqui' who, earlier this year, wrote a request in the comments section of Always Check Pockets. The blog that day included an instructional video from 'The Mighty Lisa' recorded for my benefit (in fact you see that video being used in the video below). Embarrassingly, your blogger had not learnt how to use the front loader, a washing machine that had been in the household almost a year. Lisa was heading overseas with four girlfriends on the trip of a lifetime to Europe.
[ ] No, did not do any unpaid domestic work in the last week
[ ] Yes, less than five hours
[ ] Yes, 5 to 14 hours.
[ ] Yes, 15 to 29 hours
[ ] Yes, 30 hours or more
Well Jacqui, the systems you can see I adopted were not as smooth as those of 'The Mighty Lisa'. In all seriousness, the seven weeks Lisa was away brought home to me all of the invisible work that she does. I say invisible, because the laundry never looked like this...
If the census was happening back in that seven week period, when I was a temporary single dad, I would have comfortably ticked the '15 to 29 hours' box. Tonight, I'll have to go through the past week and calculate. The reality is that with us back as a two parent set up, 'The Mighty Lisa' has racked up more hours than me. For sure. The statistics say that this is still the norm in most 'mum-dad' households. Simply, most mums do more. What I do know is that because of that seven week experience, we are getting closer to a balance, the work is appreciated and no longer invisible. I commend an experience like this to any dad... maybe the government could arrange to give all mums a holiday to bring home this reality!
Of course, as stated, families come in all shapes and sizes and in May this year, your blogger was chatting to Penny, at a Mother and Son night. Penny is a teacher with a year level leadership role. She kindly came along to assist at this Time & Space event at her school. It was in the time that I was a temporary single dad (my own dad was looking after my kids). Penny is a permanent single mum. She explained how she had dropped off her child at her mum and dad's place, a back up she explained she couldn't do without in her busy job. It was humbling as we swapped notes... a temporary single dad chatting with a full-time single mum.
Penny remarked, "When you're a single parent, there's no role-reversal... you have to do it all. It's me who goes out to the back yard to shovel up the dog poo!"
So as you are filling out your form tonight, think about all the people who are bringing up kids in lots of different situations. People doing what they have to do to help the next generation.
Respect goes out to all of you who do unpaid domestic work.
Whose work do you appreciate? Do you need to lift your own work rate? Who is someone you admire who is juggling heaps of roles and getting on with it?
Feel free to write your thoughts in the space below.
Bill Jennings
http://www.time-space.com.au/
http://www.billjennings.tv/
Wednesday, 15 June 2011
Eighteen Quick Years
A momentous day in this household. Started this post at 5.37am and your blogger had been up for a while even then, searching through and finding some old, packed away journals.
Found what I was looking for... a record of my daughter Amber's arrival on the planet eighteen years ago today... 8.47am on 15 June 1993, the Countess Hospital, Chester, UK.
The journal entries give a minute by minute account of the details of Amber's very dramatic entry into the world. Her mum and dad, as first time parents had it all planned. Water birth. Minimal intervention. All this went out the window when the baby chose 'sideways' as her pathway into the outside world.
Looking through the journal - it has a list of times and factual records. I gave Amber her first bath sometime between 10.00am and 1.00pm. I washed her mother's hair. I remember ringing home to Australia and my Great Great Auntie Flo' was staying with my mum and dad... Amber's birth had created five living generations in our tribe.
Between then and now - time has flown. Here's some of the memories that have flashed up in my mind today (with the birthday girl's, in fact birthday woman's permission).
1995 - We had been back in Melbourne over a year. Renting in Richmond, no car. I used to ride Amber to crèche in a baby seat on the back of my bike. Down Lennox Street to Collingwood where I worked. There was a park in front of the high rise flats, always blanketed with seagulls... 'Birdy, Birdy, Birdy' was the daily shout of delight from the little girl on the back of the bike. And dad would join in.
Then there was the day, as a toddler on my hip in the supermarket queue, when Amber showed her zest for learning. The Mighty Lisa and me had thought it important to teach Amber the proper names for the human reproductive parts. The queue was long. Amber looked down the line and saw a man, a woman, a man, two women and a man, in front of us. Leaning out from your blogger's hip and pointing in a confident fashion she tested her biological knowledge... in Safeway... in full voice.
"PENIS, VAGINA, PENIS, VAGINA, VAGINA, PENIS and daddy then there's you and you have a PENIS!" Triumphantly she smiled and stretched out her arms, having proudly declared her knowledge to the world.
Great parenting idea we had there. There was simply nowhere to hide. Thankfully the people of the queue found it hilarious.
Saturday 18 September, 1999 - MCG. Preliminary Final Day. A bloke named Anthony Koutoufides put in an individual performance that was to steal our beloved team's destiny. Amber, six years old, was asleep on my lap from late in the third quarter... hard to argue against Amber being the most relaxed bomber fan out of the 80,519 people there that day. She woke up just in time to learn that Essendon went down to Carlton by a point. The following year, we shared premiership joy trouncing the Demons.
One time, she had to deal with some stuff with one of her friends. Amber was the shortest in this group of girls - five friends (still all mates today) who've been affectionately dubbed the 'rat pack'. I remember telling her that it is better to take things head on - talk direct to the person you have a problem with, not about them, behind their back. Let them know how you feel (an important technique for anyone). She did it. Spoke her mind with her friend and sorted out the problem. I haven't forgotten it, nor how proud I was of her.
This morning her brother presented a funny and touching note in the birthday card he gave her... he noted that in his life, he had 'learnt a few things' about his sister. Three actually.
#1 Don't bother you in the mornings'; #2 Don't go into your room; #3 You are a very lovely, beautiful, loyal, fun, caring and passionate person and that I am lucky to be your brother.
That's a pretty cool affirmation from a nearly 15 year old boy.
It is past 9am now as I write. Therefore, right now, that one time 8 Pound 6 Ounce baby (like the old measurements) is sitting her VCE Year 12 Psychology mid-year exam, here in Melbourne, some 10,542 miles from where she took her first breath.
A call came in from her Nana in Chester - her grand-daughter had already headed off to get ready for the exam. She'll ring again later today.
Tonight, we will share a meal at Amber's favourite Indian restaurant - family tradition. First birthday dinner with her boyfriend along (yep, nothing prepares you for that moment either dads... there is no handbook). The time simply has flown. Our daughter is officially an adult. The Mighty Lisa commissioned me with the card writing duties for today...
Dearest Amber.
Officially an adult. We are so proud of the young woman you have become. You are blessed with so much. May you have an adult life that is stunning... that makes a difference.
We love you. Mum & Dad.
We don't take this occasion for granted. We know we are fortunate. It is not a given that every kid makes it to 18. I hope you have some memories of your own to savour as you read this... the funny ones, the moments that make you proud - enjoy them (and feel free to share them in the space below).
The time goes quick.
Bill Jennings
http://www.time-space.com.au
Found what I was looking for... a record of my daughter Amber's arrival on the planet eighteen years ago today... 8.47am on 15 June 1993, the Countess Hospital, Chester, UK.
The journal entries give a minute by minute account of the details of Amber's very dramatic entry into the world. Her mum and dad, as first time parents had it all planned. Water birth. Minimal intervention. All this went out the window when the baby chose 'sideways' as her pathway into the outside world.
Looking through the journal - it has a list of times and factual records. I gave Amber her first bath sometime between 10.00am and 1.00pm. I washed her mother's hair. I remember ringing home to Australia and my Great Great Auntie Flo' was staying with my mum and dad... Amber's birth had created five living generations in our tribe.
Between then and now - time has flown. Here's some of the memories that have flashed up in my mind today (with the birthday girl's, in fact birthday woman's permission).
1995 - We had been back in Melbourne over a year. Renting in Richmond, no car. I used to ride Amber to crèche in a baby seat on the back of my bike. Down Lennox Street to Collingwood where I worked. There was a park in front of the high rise flats, always blanketed with seagulls... 'Birdy, Birdy, Birdy' was the daily shout of delight from the little girl on the back of the bike. And dad would join in.
Then there was the day, as a toddler on my hip in the supermarket queue, when Amber showed her zest for learning. The Mighty Lisa and me had thought it important to teach Amber the proper names for the human reproductive parts. The queue was long. Amber looked down the line and saw a man, a woman, a man, two women and a man, in front of us. Leaning out from your blogger's hip and pointing in a confident fashion she tested her biological knowledge... in Safeway... in full voice.
"PENIS, VAGINA, PENIS, VAGINA, VAGINA, PENIS and daddy then there's you and you have a PENIS!" Triumphantly she smiled and stretched out her arms, having proudly declared her knowledge to the world.
Great parenting idea we had there. There was simply nowhere to hide. Thankfully the people of the queue found it hilarious.
Saturday 18 September, 1999 - MCG. Preliminary Final Day. A bloke named Anthony Koutoufides put in an individual performance that was to steal our beloved team's destiny. Amber, six years old, was asleep on my lap from late in the third quarter... hard to argue against Amber being the most relaxed bomber fan out of the 80,519 people there that day. She woke up just in time to learn that Essendon went down to Carlton by a point. The following year, we shared premiership joy trouncing the Demons.
One time, she had to deal with some stuff with one of her friends. Amber was the shortest in this group of girls - five friends (still all mates today) who've been affectionately dubbed the 'rat pack'. I remember telling her that it is better to take things head on - talk direct to the person you have a problem with, not about them, behind their back. Let them know how you feel (an important technique for anyone). She did it. Spoke her mind with her friend and sorted out the problem. I haven't forgotten it, nor how proud I was of her.
This morning her brother presented a funny and touching note in the birthday card he gave her... he noted that in his life, he had 'learnt a few things' about his sister. Three actually.
#1 Don't bother you in the mornings'; #2 Don't go into your room; #3 You are a very lovely, beautiful, loyal, fun, caring and passionate person and that I am lucky to be your brother.
That's a pretty cool affirmation from a nearly 15 year old boy.
It is past 9am now as I write. Therefore, right now, that one time 8 Pound 6 Ounce baby (like the old measurements) is sitting her VCE Year 12 Psychology mid-year exam, here in Melbourne, some 10,542 miles from where she took her first breath.
A call came in from her Nana in Chester - her grand-daughter had already headed off to get ready for the exam. She'll ring again later today.
Tonight, we will share a meal at Amber's favourite Indian restaurant - family tradition. First birthday dinner with her boyfriend along (yep, nothing prepares you for that moment either dads... there is no handbook). The time simply has flown. Our daughter is officially an adult. The Mighty Lisa commissioned me with the card writing duties for today...
Dearest Amber.
Officially an adult. We are so proud of the young woman you have become. You are blessed with so much. May you have an adult life that is stunning... that makes a difference.
We love you. Mum & Dad.
We don't take this occasion for granted. We know we are fortunate. It is not a given that every kid makes it to 18. I hope you have some memories of your own to savour as you read this... the funny ones, the moments that make you proud - enjoy them (and feel free to share them in the space below).
The time goes quick.
Bill Jennings
http://www.time-space.com.au
Tuesday, 17 May 2011
Managing Alien Abductions
My grandparents’ house is still on the farm. Grandpa worked his orchard for decades. After he retired, my uncle took over, building his own place there. We’re lucky, our tribe has got an actual place – ‘Gruyere’, in Victoria’s Yarra Valley. As kids, each of my brothers, sister and cousins used to get their turn in the school holidays up at Grandma and Grandpa’s.
Both lived into their nineties. So my kids (daughter, 17 and son, 14) have their own special memories of their great grandparents. When my kids were little, we used to drive up from the city, buy a big family pie on the way and take it up for lunch with Grandma - a little tradition we’d forged.
As a dad, a treasured Gruyere memory happened not long after Grandma died. My then, 11 year-old son and I embarked on an overnight bike journey from the farm to a town called Warburton. We stayed first night at my uncle’s place. We didn’t visit the old house. We were still both a bit sad.
On the bike trail, my son talked happily as we rode 40km to our destination. We stayed in the caravan park, had a counter meal in the pub. He felt so grown up, soaking up some dad time.
That’s only three years ago but it does feel like a much longer time. Why? Because I reckon that little bike rider was recently abducted by aliens. They left a replacement… similar but slightly hairier, sleepier and mono-syllabic in his utterances. This new version of my son (scientific name - ‘adolescent’) believes that those same aliens, stole his dad’s sense of humour.
We have stepped quickly into role. His peer group’s influence has increased exponentially. Concerts, parties, girls… everything’s happened quickly. I’m the boundary setter: phone calls to other kids’ parents, the checking of plans, the curfews have turned me into possibly the most embarrassing dad ever known. We can get very grumpy with each other.
So where’s the hope? Is it just a slog until a healthy adult emerges from his teenage cocoon?
The hope lies in a recent visit back to the farm. Life’s busy… hadn’t been up for a while. Neither of us had actually been back in the old house. We went inside – together - sat at the kitchen table where we’d shared those pies with Grandma. We found some old newspapers and just sat and quietly read through them - together. We were visited by a feeling of calm and appreciation of a time past, when things were a little simpler.
Then from that ‘calm’, my son expressed a wish…
“Hey Dad, I reckon it’d be good if we went on another bike ride.”
Here’s three tips to help you help your adolescent.
1. Keep them connected in your family tribe - it has a story that’s older than their peer group.
2. Return to their happy childhood memory places. Revisiting helps them revisit what really matters.
3. If they invite you to spend time with them. Accept. Make the time.
Bill Jennings
http://www.time-space.com.au
You can also see this article feature as the closing story of the newly launched Parentingideas Magazine
Both lived into their nineties. So my kids (daughter, 17 and son, 14) have their own special memories of their great grandparents. When my kids were little, we used to drive up from the city, buy a big family pie on the way and take it up for lunch with Grandma - a little tradition we’d forged.
As a dad, a treasured Gruyere memory happened not long after Grandma died. My then, 11 year-old son and I embarked on an overnight bike journey from the farm to a town called Warburton. We stayed first night at my uncle’s place. We didn’t visit the old house. We were still both a bit sad.
On the bike trail, my son talked happily as we rode 40km to our destination. We stayed in the caravan park, had a counter meal in the pub. He felt so grown up, soaking up some dad time.
That’s only three years ago but it does feel like a much longer time. Why? Because I reckon that little bike rider was recently abducted by aliens. They left a replacement… similar but slightly hairier, sleepier and mono-syllabic in his utterances. This new version of my son (scientific name - ‘adolescent’) believes that those same aliens, stole his dad’s sense of humour.
We have stepped quickly into role. His peer group’s influence has increased exponentially. Concerts, parties, girls… everything’s happened quickly. I’m the boundary setter: phone calls to other kids’ parents, the checking of plans, the curfews have turned me into possibly the most embarrassing dad ever known. We can get very grumpy with each other.
So where’s the hope? Is it just a slog until a healthy adult emerges from his teenage cocoon?
The hope lies in a recent visit back to the farm. Life’s busy… hadn’t been up for a while. Neither of us had actually been back in the old house. We went inside – together - sat at the kitchen table where we’d shared those pies with Grandma. We found some old newspapers and just sat and quietly read through them - together. We were visited by a feeling of calm and appreciation of a time past, when things were a little simpler.
Then from that ‘calm’, my son expressed a wish…
“Hey Dad, I reckon it’d be good if we went on another bike ride.”
Here’s three tips to help you help your adolescent.
1. Keep them connected in your family tribe - it has a story that’s older than their peer group.
2. Return to their happy childhood memory places. Revisiting helps them revisit what really matters.
3. If they invite you to spend time with them. Accept. Make the time.
Bill Jennings
http://www.time-space.com.au
You can also see this article feature as the closing story of the newly launched Parentingideas Magazine
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