The power of the thumb

After a whole week of meeting her chores and completing each challenge -including the giving up of the thumb - Madam has finally earned her Moxie Doll. The same night that she achieves her goal I check on her before I go to bed and find the sneaky little digit firmly wedged in its home.

Tonight as I get her ready for bed I tap her thumb.

"You have to stop sucking this baby."

Her eyes narrow.

"Do you want another Moxie Doll or not?"*

"Hmmm. I think one Moxie Doll will be enough."

"Well that's not the only reason you need to stop sucking it. If you go to big school next year and you suck your thumb then the other children might laugh at you."

She shrugs indifferently.

"Well that will be their problem."

"You don't mind if they laugh at you?"

"No. Laughing is fun. If they want to laugh at me then they're having fun. We laugh at each other all the time at school because we're so little and we do silly things. And laughing at each other is funny."

Back to the drawing board.

* A second Moxie Doll has been promised if she can stop sucking her thumb permanently.

Poxy Dolls

Charlotte is not a child who covets very much. She's not really a toy kid. She doesn't beg for the things her friends have. We can ask her to put down the toy she's playing with in Kmart because we're leaving and she'll do it without a tantrum. Occasionally, though, something will catch her eye or take her fancy and then she applies every ounce of will she has to procuring it.

Initially when she came running in to where I was doing the dishes screaming hysterically I thought she'd fallen off the bed and hurt herself. But I quickly established (lack of tears) that it was excitement.

"MamamamamamaIreallywantamockydollcanihaveonecanicanicani???"

"A what?"

"Amockydollmamaamockydoll!"

At this point I gave up trying to decipher what she was saying and went in search of the Foxtel remote instead (thank you Foxtel IQ for your live pause and rewind function.) Sure enough here's the ad for MOXIE dolls. Looks like a Bratz but comes with hair styling stuff including - wait for the hook that snagged my daughter - hair colouring wands.

By this point Charlotte is completely hysterical, bouncing wildly and almost teary with longing and excitement. I explain to her that Moxie dolls look like they cost a lot of money and that she might need to wait for her birthday. She seems to accept this and so I consider the matter to be at a close. Later in the week, when I come back from doing the shopping, it's brought home to me that the Poxy dolls are more than a fleeting interest. Madam has a total meltdown when I come home without one. To her - "Mama's out shopping" meant "for a Moxie doll for you".

Through the tears I tell her that if she wants a Moxie doll before her birthday she will have to earn one. Instantly the flood is halted and her eyes narrow.

"Earn one?" she asks carefully. I can almost hear the whizzing of her mind behind her eyes as she calculates just what she would do to own one of these things.

"Mmm. Mama will make up a chore list and if you can do all your chores for a week then you can have a Moxie doll."

"What's a chore?"

"It's jobs."

The eyes narrow to slits.

"What sort of jobs?"

Here I flounder because I was mainly winging it and I really expected her to lose interest as soon as I mentioned having to work for something. But I can see that mentally she's in the zone. Charlotte, with the right motivation (and possibly a double shot of espresso), could probably trade the world's way out of the global economic crisis in under 24 hours. I quickly scrabble for some suitable goals - a careful balance between making my life easier and some moral goals designed to enrich her health and mental wellbeing.

"Well. We might have things like you have to do your teeth every morning and every night."

"I already do my teeth every night!"

"Yes but you need to do them every morning too."

She considers this and then nods shrewdly.
"Okay Mama, what else?"

Careful to make her chore list reasonable but mindful that the poxy doll will probably cost me a bit, I list five things for her to do every day for a whole week. They are;

1.) Clean teeth in the morning.

2.) Clean teeth at night.

3.) Keep her room clean.

4.) Keep the family rooms clear of her things (shoes on the shoe shelf, toys away at night, etc)

5.) Put her dirty dishes away after she's finished eating and drinking.

I ask her if she thinks that sounds okay.

"Okay," she says solemnly, "But I think we should say no thumb sucking too."

Now I am completely blow away. This is huge. Charlotte discovered the built-in soother when she was six weeks old and the passion has never waned. At four she sucks it any chance she gets*. Under the covers. In front of the TV. In the car on the way to almost anywhere. We've tried talking, threatening, cajoling, begging, bargaining, bribing and pleading. And now she's offering it up in return for a Moxie doll.

The chore chart is duly drawn up, the stickers bought and Madam throws herself into it with surprising passion. We've obviously hit on the rewards system at the right time because she draws our attention to every completed chore she does.

"Look Mama, I ate my breakfast and my plate's in the sink!"

"Look Mama, I haven't sucked my thumb once!"

I can't help but feel that there is a let-down ahead when Madam actually achieves her goal. I think we all remember those childhood moments when the Skeletor/My Little Pony/ Rainbow Brite Action Sprite we'd sold our soul to our parents for was nowhere near as cool as the ad had initially promised. I'm also dreading the effect of the hair colouring wands on Charlotte's hair, clothes, bedclothes and the house in general (not sure how the dog will look with sage sparkle wing-tip ears).

But for now I'm letting her enjoy the thrill of earning her stickers, working her way towards her Moxie doll and I'm quietly praying that a week is long enough to break her out of the habit of sucking her thumb.

* When she thinks we aren't looking.

The Art of Op-Shopping

My sister-in-law Jen is quite a quiet, shy reserved type of person who really doesn't raise her voice or put herself out there much. Which is how I almost missed her invitation to go op-shopping. Something we both love and have done together in the past, we haven't found an opportunity (opportunity! ha ha!) in about six months. And she spoke so quietly when she suggested it that I almost missed it. But after I'd made her repeat herself I was all over it like a Bedlington on a bone.

"Yes!" I shouted, "What time can I pick you up?"*

As soon as my brother-in-law Scotty heard what we were doing, he wanted in too. At first I thought he was joking. Op-shopping just doesn't seem like his thing.

"Mate, I'm the king of op-shopping. I love it!"

So I count him in and warn him he will have to be ready early**. Sure enough he's at the end of the driveway at 8.30 sharp and when we show up at Jen's house we discover that she's asked Cally (another SIL) along too.

We head out to the king of op-shops, Mancare in Fyshwick. And discover that the Gods are smiling on us - childrens clothing has been marked down to only $2.50 an item. Jen, Cally and I commence the rack raiding in the kiddy section. Scotty heads for the menswear.

Making my own stuff and op-shopping is how I manage to clothe and feed my kids without landing myself in the poor house. I have a method - anything that qualifies as a really good bargain, which means designer, brand new or extra nice, gets bought no matter how big it is. Then it goes into my special wardrobe for the kids - all organised by size - and as they grow I just pull out the next stack of clothes. I've bought brand new pyjamas on sale (in four sizes at $3.00 a pair), brand new shoes (always check the tread) from Salvos and designer brands (Osh Kosh and Ralph Lauren) with the tags still attached.

After I dump my arm-load at the front counter I start looking for myself. I try the 16+ rack but quickly realise that the Salvos people responsible for sorting the clothes think 16+ is anything that looks like it might double as a protective sleeve for an airship. Attractive clothes in my actual size are hidden on the other racks. I flip quickly through, looking first for fabric feel and colour and then for size. I find a bunch of stuff and then I pause.

Here it is. My nemesis. No matter how old I get I know that every single winter shopping trip will involve a turtleneck jumper that will look good enough on the rack that I will think I might look OK in it. Inevitably I try it on and instantly reaffirm that girls with breasts who wear turtlenecks look like they're smuggling a tyre. Why can't I let it go? Because the idea of a jumper and scarf in one is just too tempting. Unfortunately this time is no different from all the others. I look like the Michelin Man.

Scott giggles when I sigh in frustration and asks me whether I've actually seen a turtle's neck? Because they don't look remotely attractive, even on the turtle. The instant I put it back on the rack the op-shop gods reward me with a perfect find. Almost brand new, made to fit me, feels gorgeous and looks wonderful. Also it comes, quite handily, in a shade I've been trying to find to go with some of my work pants. Huzzah! High fives all 'round.

Scotty has gone nuts. He has at least a dozen items including a VB rugby top which looks brand new***. Jenny and Cally have managed to find awesome things too. Jen has largely avoided the children's racks because, as she points out, she has just about everything she needs for Chloe thanks to me. What she has found is a gorgeous pair of embroidered jeans that are only $3.00 and some cute little tops. Cally's scored well on the clothes front too. Watching the purchases pile up on the counter I feel sure I've blown the budget but nope, it all comes to $60. Which is about as much as I'd have to spend for two things from Pumpkin Patch. Maybe three.

* For those without children - the chance to go out without them is a bit like letting a border collie off the leash.

** Which is about 8.30am - usually around the time Scotty crawls into bed on his visits to Canberra.

*** Honestly who would wear it but Scott?

Quotable Quotes #4

Tonight over dinner Charlotte is - yet again - dazzling us with her infallible logic.

"Shooting stars are really just rocks, aren't they?"

"Yup," says Daddy.

"So rocks can grant wishes?"

Charles turns to me.

"Someone," he whispers, raising his eyebrows significantly in Madam's direction, "Is desperate to see a shooting star so she can make a wish on it."

"Yeah," pipes up Miss Princess, "So I can wish that you two weren't so bossy and angry all the time."

"Bossy and angry, huh?" I ask.

"Uh-HUH".

Feedback, Questions and Updates

From time to time I will probably do a post like this where I answer questions I've gotten, update you on new developments related to previous posts and address any other feedback. Here goes;

Does Charles read your blog? Yes. He's often the first to read it and if it's at all controversial I get his opinion before I post. Past experience has shown that the TC yardstick for acceptable topics of conversation is measuring in a completely different dimension to the rest of society's yardstick.

What does Charles think of the things you say about him? Largely I think he feels he's getting off lightly. I try to be as balanced as I can. But in all honesty we're both painfully aware of our human frailties and we giggle over them more often than we bicker. Occasionally he'll ask me to change something if he thinks it's unfair or not an accurate representation and I usually do. The thing is that real love isn't pretending your partner has no failings - it's knowing those failings and loving them anyways.

Who is Pippa? I think anyone that has met her will recognise her from my writing! I have debated whether to just use her first name but I think letting her have a pseudonym lets me get away with revealing more of her. She can't object because I didn't use her real name. Perfect, really.

UPDATE: Mystery of the Domestic Sphere SOLVED. Charles claims the reason I am mistress of domesticity is not because of the role society has created for him but because he spends all day leading at work and comes home with no motivation. Although he does agree with me that advertising is insidious when it comes to reinforcement of traditional gender roles.

Rebuttal: Pippa claims she doesn't scare people. Vote now people. Do you know Pippa? Does she scare you?

UPDATE: Stroller Dramas; Front wheel still locked, will purchase WD40 at soonest opportunity.

UPDATE: Tastes like Chicken! Charlotte is not a vegetarian yet - apparently nuggets are "tasty chicken" which is worth the sacrifice. Chicken skewers have now been dropped from the list of items acceptable for pinky-sustainment.

Quotable Quotes #3

Charlotte informs me that, "Mama, when I grow up, I'm going to marry a girl!"

"Are you darling? Not interested in boys?"

"No. They're stinky."

"Are they? Oh dear."

"Yeah...but we shouldn't tell Daddy that because he's a boy and he might not know that he's stinky."

"Daddy's stinky is he?"

"Yeah. 'specially when he doesn't have a shower".

All's fair in love and war

Everyone's heard the saying "All's fair in love and war". Kind of makes you feel like the two are closely related. It's unfortunate that a lot of break-ups we see are acrimonious nasty things where everything from kids to pets, friends and furniture are split along with the relationship. And in a lot of cases things aren't just split, they're gnawed and frayed to pieces.

Charles and I both had horrible separations before we met each other. Fresh off dysfunctional relationships our initial courtship had more to do with negotiating the type of relationships we wanted and less to do with pretending the other person was the fairytale soul mate we'd been waiting for our whole lives. Even after the negotiations had ended we weren't exactly naive. We both knew that even with all the love in the world and all the bottom lines and all the conditions there weren't going to be any guarantees. So we even talked about how we'd end the relationship if that time ever came.

I was dubious about this. Emotions run high when relationships fail and it's easy to channel your hurt and rejection into verbal missiles and truly horrible behaviour. I wasn't sure I'd be able to stick to an agreed separation plan when the crunch came. I also thought it would have a lot to do with how we separate. Even with kids in the picture I would have found it very difficult to stay friends if there was cheating or re-mortgaging of the house and sending the funds to an offshore account. But I was absolutely sure that I would be the one who would struggle to be calm and rational in the event of marriage breakdown.

Then that time came. It's no secret that Charles and I separated for a brief time rather recently. Ironically the only part of the whole experience that I was happy with was how we dealt with it. We stuck to the agreed exit plan and while I was so miserable that it was hard to breathe, I managed to keep myself in check and limit my sorrow to sorrow, not rage. In the depths of it all I still felt confident that we would find a way to still be friends even if the worst came to pass.

What took me by surprise was how negatively some people reacted. It wasn't as though there was any anger or nastiness between us - things just weren't working and we weren't happy. But people were primed to take sides. Almost immediately the comments started about how we were handling it, what we were saying and how we were behaving. Some people were horrified and offended that I changed my Facebook status to show that I was separated. It wasn't as though I aired any of the specific reasons for our separation and I wasn't trying to upset or offend anyone or force people to take sides - I was merely trying to avoid the 1001 phone calls, the gossip and the rumours.

Despite the fact that it's now the 21st Century it was almost as though we were supposed to hide the fact that we were having problems for the sake of others. This attitude floored me. Surely divorce is no longer the shameful thing it once was? Do we really still feel that people should be left in isolation to manage their problems and their misery, gradually cluing people in to the dissolution of the family unit in a piecemeal fashion? How many times would you want someone to ask how your spouse is and have to say, "actually we're not together any more"? I knew that it would kill me by degrees to do that.

We're very lucky. In the past couple of months we've managed to put ourselves and our family back together. In the long run that separation probably saved us. Once we were separated we had nothing to lose. We were brutally honest and with our grievances aired and our issues resolved, things gradually got back on track and became stronger than before. I'm not even angry that Charles initiated it. I'm pleased that he recognised how things stood and acted to avoid things getting any worse. It gave us a fighting chance.

Unfortunately since then we've watched at least three other long term relationships in our circle of friends and family fall apart. One of these has been acrimonious, one was a separation like ours (i.e. they're now back together) and one looks like it's permanent but peaceful. All of them have had public statements similar to ours on Facebook and this is what got me thinking about this topic today.

As a society we expect people to get nasty when relationships sour. We act as though relationships are forever and when they fail we look for the villain. The reality is that people change, life changes, the world changes and sometimes we don't always change for the better or in the same way. Perhaps if we learned to be more open about our problems and nurtured our friends and family through the trouble spots there would be less "broken" homes and more blended families. I truly believe that sweeping things under the carpet is a recipe for uneven ground and uncertain footing on our journey through life.