Marketing and children

Part of my job is marketing. I contribute to the my business’ marketing plan which forms part of the country plan and so on. I have taken courses. I attend meetings. I interpret and act on segmentation studies. I even know what segmentation study means. I actually like it. So although I am not a marketing genius, I know something about it.

My other job is being a mum. So in my train commute home, I change from one side of the marketing game to the other.

I have to praise Italy for one thing – Italians do tend to prefer quality over quantity. It may be because of space (apartments have limited clutter space) and looking good (Italians are obsessed with looking good and, more the point, looking better than each other). Italy is also very nationalistic. Italians simply think Italian products are better. So combine these and you get people who have not completely succumbed to the American marketing machine and who prefer a select few good items than many things of dubious quality. How does this translate into a child’s life over here? Well, Disney is big but you never see kids decked out head to toe in Disney princess outfits (more likely to see a toddler in Ralph Lauren or Abercrombie – don’t get me started…), no Cars toddler beds and no Toy Story wallpaper. Maybe Hello Kitty but that’s another story…

What is my point? It is that I am already thinking about this even though my kids are 1 and 3. I am worried!

I am very aware of how insidious marketing can be and how companies intentionally target consumers and parents starting from the get go. But I mean really – “According to The New York Times, [Disney] is laying the groundwork to capture a whole new group of potential customers: newborns. By partnering with Our365, a portrait company that pays hospitals in exchange for exclusive rights to take and sell baby pictures, Disney will be able to market its newest line, Disney Baby, directly to new mothers in hospital maternity wards.”

Shudder. The word predatory comes to mind.

From an educator’s point of view I see that it can be less than ideal, from a parent’s point of view I see that it can border on immoral. From a marketing person’s point of view, they’re freakily good at what they do.

I wondered if I am exaggerating in my interest and worry. If you think I am on the other end of the spectrum, with only wooden, educational toys in our living room, exclusively organic wool sweaters keeping my kids warm and countless varieties of organic beans and pulses in my larder then think again! We have some wooden toys, some “educational” toys, no organic wool and a many beans (but my husband is Cuban after all) as well as some seriously sugar-laden cakes, plastic toys with no point to them at all, branded stuff and some average cotton-blend clothing.

So maybe I am just starting to think about these things too early? Well, apparently not. In a fairly blatant acknowledgement that advertising does affect small kids, some places have banned certain forms of advertising to the very young. Some research shows that aggressive marketing and advertising, and the habits these support, can lead to excessive materialism in the very young which may then have a negative effect of kids’ self-image let alone their overall values.

OK that’s enough of that. Reading the following articles was an eye-opener so if you want more, read away:

http://www.media-awareness.ca/english/parents/marketing/dealing_marketing.cfm

http://parentingsquad.com/forget-the-princess-problem-disney-develops-new-marketing-campaign-aimed-at-newborns

http://www.media-awareness.ca/english/parents/marketing/issues_kids_marketing.cfm

So my approach is… (drum roll please)…

Moderation. It’s all about moderation.

We have Toy Story 1, 2, and 3 DVDs at home and we have watched them about 6 thousand, 5 hundred and twenty three times. Each. We have Muchacha Pelo Largo No Shoes (Rapunzel) and we would have Cars DVDs too but I think the stories are for older kids. We have Toy Story and Cars Lego, a Cars ball, and some Cars, um, cars. A Bob the Builder shirt and Sesame Street underpants. Oh and the coolest Toy Story hoodie that our friend brought us from Disneyland! A treasured possession! I am sure there will be many, many more Disney/Sesame Street/ whatever clothes and toys in our future too. Is that OK with me? Dang right it is. As long as it doesn’t take over that is. OK firstly, I love Disney Pixar productions. They are genius. They were at the forefront of computer animation with Toy Story 1 and just keep getting better and better. The stories are good too. My only major complaint is that all characters are WASPs, with the exception of Spanish Buzz’s bit part in Toy Story 3, but I give credit for how Jessie is a strong girl who can hold her own.

I get a kick out of certain branded items we have. So does René. Growing up with so many things banned and with such limited resources means that now I think he gets a kick out of being able to watch whatever he wants and buy stuff. That said, 30+ years of anti-capitalist doctrine has had its positive effect and he shuns the idea of going overboard. Thank you Fidel. In Cuba the only “marketing” you see is propaganda. Internet use by your average Cuban is impossible or at best, rare.

The thing is, though, there will come a time when advertising will bite. “Advertising at its best is making people feel that without their product, you're a loser. Kids are very sensitive to that.” One day will my boys feel inferior because they do not have the latest Disney / Ambercrombie / Nike whatever? Probably. Will I be tempted just to get it for them so that they feel better. Probably. Do I hope and pray that my voice of reason will kick in and say, “Don’t do it?”. Yes.

As parents I think what we need to do is try our damndest to instil as much self-confidence into our kids as possible so that they do not feel entirely defined by the label on their jeans or the type of mobile phone they use. I think giving them abilities, knowledge and experience can compensate for not having the latest “in” thing and can also help them, no matter how young they are, put it all into perspective through example and education. Sure they will have their “look” and their interests, be it preppy, hippy, rocker or nerd and yes, they will have some related items to support their personal style. But what we want to avoid is them feeling they need things in order to feel good and fit in.

So bring on the Grover underpants and long live Woody and Buzz but in moderation and with a touch of healthy cynicism and a large dose of fun. So maybe not this:

My Child the Linguistic Experiment

You know you’re a language obsessed when the following happens:

Elias says, “Mummy you [slight pause] found this!” and my response was, “Holy! That was the past tense! Well sone Elias!!”

Elias and Alex were playing at Daniel’s first birthday party. Onlookers included Jo (an English teacher), Jo’s dad (a linguist), Jo's mum (a teacher), Caroline (another English teacher) and me. When the boys started playing in English together, there was a flurry of whispered excitement from ALL of us. "Oh look, they're playing in English!"... "What language are they speaking? Oh! English!" and so on. It was hilarious!!! Talk about a scientific experiment!!!

Christmas shopping - A Users Guide

OK before I go into how smug I feel I need to specify a few things so as not to seem Miss Judgeypants by my entry below:
- I love Christmas
- I love buying gifts for people
- I argue with my husband regularly

Now, onto the story.

I had a day off and decided to use it to do the Christmas shopping. I went alone to a shopping centre with a stunningly tight budget and therefore a short list.

Two hours later I was done. But wow, the things I saw might have scarred me for life. So I have made this handy, How To Shop Without Freaking Out guide:

Take it easy – it’s Christmas
I saw several mothers and fathers cussing each other out, the worst being the mother screaming at the father, “Ma che cazzo!! Tu vuoi compare tutto quello che non ha chiesto lui!!!” (=”What the f**k!! You want to buy everything that he didn’t ask for!!”). Umm, lady? Take it easy. You’re missing the point. Poor things, I almost felt sorry for them.

Random gifts do not equal love
Father shoving a huge box of something unknown into his toddler son’s face saying, “You like that? You want it?” Umm, sir? You’re missing the point.

Remember why you’re there
I saw shopping carts filled but I mean FILLED with toys for one child. Major but I mean MAJOR cheap, horrible, will break in 5 minutes plastic stuff. Arghghgh! Why buy that for anyone?!?!? You’ll be chucking it out after one day! Not to mention the, oh forget it. Now, where did I put my anti-consumerism, no global, Che Guevara t-shirt?

Go wild, go at lunchtime
Italians are infamous for doing things at the same time. Coffee at 11. Lunch at 1.30. Dinner at 8. OK, maybe I should say they are infamous for eating on a schedule. The place where I was doing my shopping was heaving with people at 12.30. At 1 it was a desert. I toodled around, humming to myself and calmly chose things off shelves. People - Italians - do yourselves a huge favour, postpone lunch a tad and enjoy an empty store to do some calm and happy shopping. Or not, actually, because then if you're all there at lunchtime, when will I go?!?

Remember who you’re with
If you really have to go shopping with your children in a crowded hot place, remember a few things please:
1. Undo or take off their coats, it’s 40° in there.
2. Your kids will get bored and over stimulated so keep the trip short. Don’t feed them chocolate and then expect them to stay in the shopping cart for 2 hours either.
3. Be nice to your children because they really would much rather be at home or in a park running around and getting dirty. Avoid screaming at them. It. Doesn’t. Help.

No need to thank me just yet, you can do so when Christmas is over.

Yours Smugly,

Mrs Judgeypants.

Jesus in a Sleigh?

So now that Elias is 3, Christmas is taking on... meaning. It is an interesting exercise.

Last year I asked René what we were planning on doing about Santa Claus and his immediate response was: “Tell him the truth. I’m not lying to my son.”. Thanks go to Fidel for that one I think. At that point we had time though, seeing as Elias was only 2, so I didn’t pursue the topic too much.

So now here we are again and one year later, a bit more thought needs to go into the Christmas thing. Or does it?

Do you know I never knew until last year that some people wait until the night before Christmas to put all the presents under the tree and then say they ALL came from Santa? My family didn’t. In fact my memories of Santa are pretty vague. The stockings were Santa’s doing but the presents were from mummy, daddy, the cat, the horse and teddy bear and other funny gift-givers. When I asked my mum if Santa was real, she said absolutely yes and told me the story of Saint Nicholas who was, in fact, a real person. So that was a nice transition and in any case, we didn’t have the Santa cult in my household to begin with.

Of course Santa comes up in books and films and so on, people tell us that Santa will be here soon and so on. We don’t talk about it much at home as in we do not say Santa is coming etc. The whole idea of be good or else does not appeal to me (and the Elf of the Shelf creeps me out too). Not that I am a spoil sport, just that I don’t really get it. As for René, there was no Santa at all in his upbringing so it is really completely foreign to him and would be hard to get him to buy into it now.

Now don’t get me wrong. Our tree was up on November 30 thanks to… Daddy!!! The Cuban!!! Christmas was a regular working day in Cuba until around 1999 (thanks to Pope John Paul’s visit) and Cubans are so poor, there is never any chance of being able to buy gifts anyway. But René quite likes the tree idea. OK, he is a bit minimalist in that he thinks it’s quite nice with lights and about ten ornaments on it max, so over the past 2 weeks I have been adding a bit of tinsel here and there and an extra ornament or two… Xavi has been diligently undoing my work so maybe the minimalist idea is a go this year.

Looks like the laid-back attitude to Santa is where we're heading and if so, I have to say I am almost relieved. I will definitely tell the kids (and Daddy) about the whole origin of Christmas – religious, pagan and more. Plus in Italy sometimes it’s the baby Jesus who brings the gifts to the kids (woah – there’s a weird one, does he ride a sleigh?!? Is he not cold? He’s a baby for goodness sake!!) so that takes care of the extreme Santa cult over here. Christmas is Catholic in Italy. It is not half as commercial as it is in Canada so that takes the focus of things a bit.

As for presents, you may think I am weird, I actually asked Elias what he wanted for Christmas. We decided on a scooter, blue please and a police car (sigh…). I asked a few times to make sure it was not a passing phase, and then didn’t bring it up again. Why did I do that? Man, we are not economically in a good way so if I buy something, I want it to be used and enjoyed!!! With a 2 presents max limit and that’s it, if they are not successful, Christmas will be a bummer present-wise!

I guess what is really important is that everyone is happy at least once a year, and why not at Christmas. So whether you have an Elf on the Shelf, or 30 presents under the tree, look out the window for a baby in a sleigh or don’t even have a tree because you think it is a Pagan atrocity, who cares?!? Christmas is a great reason or excuse to eat yummy things, hang out with people you love, give and receive and listen to choirs singing.

So on that note, Merry Christmas everyone!! Oh, and someone give baby Jesus a parka!

Catch Up

Months later.... My computer recharge cable died, my work laptop will not let me do some things because of all the security systems on it so I was blogless for over two months. Che palle.

Life goes on. The park fiascos continued throughout the month of August and on September weekends. I very nearly had words with a horrible man and father who is a bastard to his kids and deposited his small daughter on a climbing thing where she cried her eyes out until the "father" responded to my piercing glare and came and got her.

Elias started nursery school. That was HUGE. The first 2 days were new kids with mums. Then the next two days (after the weekend) were new kids without mums. Then they were joined by the big kids (2nd and 3rd year - 4 and 5 years old). The 3 yr olds did half days for a while, about another week or so, then went to full days i.e. until 3.30 and including lunch and a nap. Elias was very brave throughout but has only now, 2 months later, stopped crying when I leave him. He basically has a 2 minute cry, wants his daddy (René picks him up) and then gets over it.

Elias = Elizabeth.

I was the kid who at 9 years old was still bawling at sleepovers. Sigh...

So, a few thoughts. I think the system is really good considering it is a standard, oublic school. The settling in time is great. The mixed ages in one class is good too. We lucked out and have a good teacher - Daniela, 40+ years old, had a 3 yr old herself and is experienced and sweet. That said, I can already see the flaws with conventional schooling. I think Elias is/was not ready for a class of 28 kids and would have been happier had he been able to go to school a little later. Elias like routine so the routine that is a must in the classroom is a good thing but it is only because Daniela is good and flexible and respects every child's character that he is adjusting - another teacher would just say, "get over it and get on with it" to his continuing emotions.

I have a colleague, a lovely man named Kirk, who has 3 kids that go to the Steiner school. His wife teaches pre-school there and he teaches English there. I am going to their Christmas bazaar this month. Why? I'll never be able to afford it but hey, it's worth a look.

Xavi on the other hand returned to daycare without looking back. When I dopr him off in the mornings, he looks at me, waves and says, "bye bye".

Could my kids be any more different?

Elias sometimes defends himself, sometimes not when he is shoved, scratched or his hair is pulled (including by his little brother). I have to tell him, "Elias! Shout at Xavi!! Tell him to stop it!!". I had to tell him that Ludovico could NOT scratch his face and that if he ever even got near his face again, that he must shout very loudly. Xavi? He slaps, pulls hair, scratches and shoves if anyone, I mean ANYONE, bugs him. No one is likely to bug him once they see what happens. He is as cheerful as he is reactive, he shouts as much as he laughs, he defends himself just fine thank you very much.

More? Elias sleeps like a log. Xavi still wakes up at least twice a night. Elias eats like a horse, Xavi picks at food. Elias was happily sitting on the loo at 19 months, Xavi hates it. Elias is dark-haired, Xavi is light (the fierce Norwegian DNA has made its mark). Elias gets mortally offended, Xavi gets p*ssed right off. Elias is sensitive, Xavi bounces back fast.

Ah, life. This Land of Life.

What are we doing?

I often find myself explaining to people where we are from. That is understandable seeing as we are in the famous park a lot and obviously speaking different languages and looking foreign. OK. The thing is, many people say, "Oh Canada! Wonderful! Che bello!!" and often follow it up with, "What are you doing here?!?"

I used to answer differently when I was single. I was young at the time too. Good job, Italy is fun, Italy is interesting, the food is good. Then my answer changed when I got married. Italy is OK. Good job. I've lived here for many years. Then time passed.

Now I answer differently. Good job but we'll probably consider going back soon-ish. There's more opportunity for the kids in Canada and they are Canadian citizens.

Am I right? Are we just being selfish/complacent/lazy/fraidy-cats by staying here? What about me? What will I do? EFL management is not exactly a booming business in The Great White North. Will I still be empolyable at over 45? And when will The Big Move take place?

In theory I have a 5 or 6 year plan. It goes something like this: buy a flat here in Italy, get a Masters, improve my French, sort out some type of EU citizenship if at all possible, don't let the kids get too big or settled in the Italian system, try a sabbatical in Canada as a trial run and then make the decision to either sell up and move or stay put... or something else (Spain might be interesting...).

Check back with me in 6 years' time. Who knows where we'll be.

Overprotective?

Am I overprotective?

I often fear I am the ever-present, hovering mother who is always saying "Be careful!" and "No don't do that!" or "Get away from there, you'll hurt yourself!" which will inevitably stunt my children's emotional and physical growth and turn them into paranoid mummy's boys.

I am a girl. I am an only child. I have no idea how much is too much, how much a boy can and should run and jump and risk their butts in the playground - I was happy to trot around my garden and play with toys.

In my defence, I remind myself that Elias is still 2, albeit for only about 2 more weeks, but that although he seems tall and hairy, he is still a small kid. I think I'm OK with Xavi becuse he is not even one and a half yet, although he sure likes to pretend he is about 5. But then I see little Darius at the park who is a tiny, sinewy, Russian thing who is running and holding his own with the big boys and whose father just occasionally shouts instructions to him from the sidelines (could be the enormous beer belly the man is sporting which prevents him from doing much more but still, the kid is amazing). And the fear returns - is my boy going to be a wimp?

In the throes of self-doubt over all this, I decided to conduct a small experiment and really try to be objective to take a good look at what was going on. I decided to sit on my hands, position myself in one place in the playground where I could leap to their aid if needed and shut up and watch them. It was stressful but effective. They ran. I watched. I refrained from too many instructions and warnings. They had fun.

I did this a couple of days. Then a few things happened.

Elias decided to hang over a window thing in the wooden playhouse and as he leaned over it, he just kept on going and fell all the way out, disappearing completely and evidently landing right on his head. It was not high up but it was a little dramatic. Other parents tensed up even. I went over to him, I didn't freak out. Elias emerged, red-faced and rubbing his head. He didn't cry but he was fairly unimpressed. He took it easier for a while after that.

Xavi then proceeded to get knocked over by two bigger girls chasing each other. He was completely unscathed so that went well. When another girl came along riding her bike in the little kids' play area I did tell her nicely to go somewhere else though - I mean, there are limits here (no comment as to where her mother was of course, needless to say, she was not supervising her...).

Later as I exchanged greetings with a mum of two girls, I had to interrupt our conversation as Elias was about 6 feet up climbing the ropes and about to try hanging off the monkey bars (which his little hands can't even get around enough yet and which are 7+ feet off the ground)so I gently extracted him. Meanwhile Xavi was trying hard to do the same and had managed to get up about 2 feet or so but he extracted himself. The girls' mother was stunned at my boys so I thought, "OK, if she's shocked, I am not too paranoid after all." Mind you, she has girls.

Elias has always tumbled and fallen easily. Two chipped teeth, bleeding lips galore and some pretty major bumps to head are a few of the results. He walked early and fell a lot. He is not clumsy so much as distracted and fairly unaware of a few of the fundamentals of injury prevention. He is the kid who will run while looking the other way, he will let go of the swing to examine his thumb, he will just... fall over his own, very big feet. He is also intruigued with big kids and wants to participate in their games, even though they're too much for a little guy. Xavi is, of course, different. He walked late and is less likely to fall but, like any little brother, he wants to do what Elias is doing and will follow him all over the place. He also has no idea what mummy is going on about and will happily wander far, far away without looking back once.

So am I overprotective? After my recent experiment I think that as long as I do not smother them or follow them around while constantly say no, no, no I will stay within the limits of healthy parenting. I am teaching Elias to stop when I say "Stop!" when he runs too far off, and I am teaching him about bicycles in the park. He will never be like Darius but I hope he will also be brave enough to try things out without being foolish. Xavi is a different story but if I can make sure he knows his limits then I will be more comfortable with him testing them.

Just as long as neither of them ever want to skydive or bungee jump, I'll be fine.

Muchacha Pelo Largo No Shoes

As I walked into the park on Sunday afternoon ("Sand Park" also known as "Shiatsu" in our family's park code), I overheard a woman on her mobile ask, "Y Milady?" and knew she was Cuban. Thus began my sociological observation of her (as is my wont).

We got to talking. Obvisouly her husband was Italian. They lived in nearby Small Town Nothing and came to the park for the sandpit. Their son was Gabriel and the little one was Greta. She was with her husband, her mother, her tiny daughter and her son. Her son was gorgeous, 4 years old with beautiful grey eyes and, we later learned, he also shared the same birthday as Elias only he was one year older.

Now here's the thing and the point of this post. She spoke Italian to her kids. Gabriel didn't speak Spanish. He understood it OK because his grandmother spoke it to him but he couldn't say anything in Spanish.

Now as I grow older and wiser, I do not like to criticize how people bring up their kids. As long as the child is happy and healthy, you're doing your job. But I do remain perplexed as to why people do not speak their native language to their children. My father didn't. I was born over 20 years after he had left his country and after which he had practically stopped speaking Norwegian except for on the phone to his sister every so often. He thought there was no point speaking a little-known language to his 3rd child in his second marriage, especially if his wife, my mother, didn't understand it. When I was old enough to know better, I disagreed with him and in retrospect he admitted he may have done things differently given the chance but by then it was, of course, too late.

So back to the family of the other day, here was this kid who spoke no Spanish but who had a Cuban mother. She and her husband regretted this, but thought it was too late to change now. I suggested what we do in terms of books and DVDs which they thought was an interesting idea - all books, DVDs and YouTube viewings are in English or Spanish in this house. She did look a bit longingly at Elias and René interacting in pure, unadulterated Cuban Spanish though which was a bit sad I thought.

As we went home and the more I thought about it over the next few days, the more I realised we have a good thing going in our family. I am so pleased that René and I didn't even have to talk about this - it was a given that he would speak only Spanish and I would speak only English to the kids. At one point he expressed doubt about the "purity" or "correctness" of Cuban Spanish but when someone can show me the correct form of any language, I will then believe that they exist so we got over that one pretty quickly.

I can only hope and pray that our kids continue to grow up with at least two if not three or more languages in their daily life. I love the fact that Elias' uses the word 'fula' for anything bad, boring or irritating, that he speaks English with an already distinctly North American accent ('dirty' or 'can't') and uses North American words like 'cookie'.

Until Xavi speaks more, Elias' is the one coming up with wonderful linguistic inventions but I am sure his little brother will follow suit very soon. The best so far? Elias' name for Rapunzel: Muchacha Pelo Largo No Shoes. Look at the poster, it is 100% fitting.

Pick your battles - use dinosaur cookie cutters

You always hear "Pick your battles" and "Don't sweat the small stuff" when it comes to raising little ones.

How true.

The usually cooperative Elias is now in a "no" phase. No going to the toilet, no naps, no baths or showers, no bedtime and today no lunch (unless on the sofa at which point is was mummy's turn to say "no").

Now. I am a bit extreme in my sticking to a routine and wanting everyone to follow it. Someone in this family once compared it to a military operation. I took that as a compliment, go figure. So this "no" business is sending me into fits of anxiety because it totally throws off The Routine. In an attempt to stick to The Routine, we have recently had screaming showers, yelling bedtimes and very vocal pee pees and I have become a frazzled mess.

And then I thought: WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING?

Elias is nearly 3. He is little. God in heaven. I am super tired and often lacking in originality, just wanting to get the bathroom, feeding, bathing stuff over with so that we can get on with the other stuff. Well that must be really crap for him, let's not mince words here. So I started thinking. I gave myself a talking to. I listened to a nice mum at the park and I changed tack. Here's what's happening so far:

Bathtime. One day we went with no bath, just a wipedown and a bit more on the smelly bits. I mean who cares if a kid goes without a bath, he's 3 for Chrissake and on holiday! Even if he is dirty from the park and the mosquito spray and the sweat, wipe the kid down and forget about it! The next day I just said to him he didn't need to take a bath but to come in the bathroom anyway. When Xavi and I began blowing bubbles in the bath, next thing you know, Elias was fully in the tub and having a great time.

Meals. I draw the line at eating in the living room so pasta on the sofa no way. But I was getting into a tug-of-war "either you eat your pasta at the table or you don't eat" scenario and then I thought OK, mummy, get a grip. I canned the perfect lunch idea by looking at the tired and hungry and stubborn 2-year-old that he is and softened. I offered him crappy, processed cheese slices - to hell with the pasta (that he had specifically requested but hey, I won't hold him accountable for these things just yet!). Then I had a lightbulb moment and I got out the cookie cutters and made sandwiches in the shape of dinosaurs, a giraffe and a couple of dogs. He wolfed them down. The pasta got eaten by daddy. Xavi participated by watching the show, bemused and getting in and out of his highchair 25 times. It was cool.

Bed & naptime. We have skipped naps. It's not entirely unsuccessful in that it's been OK save for a couple of meltdowns due to exhaustion (his meltdowns that is!). Yesterday at bedtime I said OK, let's go to the bedroom but you don't need to sleep. Of course he conked out. I am still a bit stuck on this not wanting to go to bed one, but I manage to get around it although it is a bit of a challenge. That said, it's normal - the gadzillions of stories aboout kids getting up 200 times for water, another story, a toilet run, etc. etc. are all over the place so whatever.

The toilet. I have given up on getting him to go on command so I just throw a change of shorts and underpants in the bag and go. Unless he is holding it in (and risking a bladder infection) he'll be fine. I tried an interesting book that we only read in the bathroom as a lure to go when I want him to (i.e. before we go out and before bed - the other times I don't bug him about it at all) but that didn't last too long. He had to do pee pee in the park the other day and didn't really enjoy that so hopefully this will not continue to be a big issue. Worst case scenario is he wets himself or the bed - and hey, so what? He'll learn and we'll all be less stressed out!

So if we end up eating sandwiches for weeks, or not properly bathing, sleeping or not, and needing to whizz up a tree so be it. Life is too short. Pick your battles and don't sweat the small stuff but above all, try and make things fun and positive and don't get into inane tugs of war for the sake of it!

The Park

The Park. We go to the park minimum four, maximum fourteen (when on holiday) times a week - that works out to twice a day. We live in an apartment so we need to get the kids out to get fresh air, run around, get tired and get dirty. I love seeing them have fun, I love taking them home filthy and tired. But oh boy, there are times when I absolutely cannot stand the park. And you know why? It's not the other kids. It's the dang adults.

Oh the tales I could tell. Oh OK then, I will. This week, for example. We went to the pebble park. So we brought the sand toys because you can use a spade and bucket and a dump truck or two with pebbles. Of course a few other little ones honed in on the toys and that is great because I want my kids to share and play with others. So play they did. And then, inevitably, a few issues arose. So inspired by this and other incidents, I have created a few categories of Idiot Adults Who Accompany Kids to the Park. Here are some:

Distracted or Whimsical Fathers
Children under the age of 3? 4? really do not know how to play together and I don't expect them to. I do expect the parent/grandfather/carer to intervene when the kid does something unacceptable within the limits of their little age range, for example hitting, grabbing, etc. etc. So when little Gabriele grabbed the spade from Elias' hand and his father, busy sending text messages on his cell, totally ignored the situation, I intervened.

Thus ensued the fight between me and a two-year-old to get spade back (OK maybe not my best moment but what the heck). I started calling the kid's father even! In the end I just let go of the damn spade and said, "OK forget it. Elias this kid isn't worth it," and then his father intervened. By taking his kid, who of course started crying, home. Nice one, dad. So much for educating, explaining and resolving. The guy was probably blaming me too. Whatever.

There was another unforgettable time when Evil Child was busy and repeatedly shoving his smaller "friend" down the slide while their fathers chatted together, oblivious to the littler one's crying. When Evil Child's hand reached for my boy's bottom to do the same, I gently but decisively grabbed his wrist and said, "No, we don't do that". He went whimpering to his father (who had forgotten he existed) who asked him what was wrong. Evil Child couldn't explain and you know, I didn't volounteer to help out there.

Well-Meaning and Not-So-Well-Meaning Grandparents
Back to this week's park experience. While Gabriele and I were having our tug-of-war, not-so-little (older than Elias) Filippo was busy emptying a toy pram and filling it with pebbles. His grandfather was also busy on his cell phone. Filippo was a decent kid but he could have set a car on fire, chopped down a tree and thrown himself off the bridge into the river and his grandfather would have been oblivious. When the mother of the owner of the aforementioned pram discovered its fate, I had to say to her, "we didn't do that" or else she would have blamed us. I thought it was Filippo's sister's so I hadn't said anything in the first place. Oh, his grandfather never noticed...

Wild Child is what I called a kid, 3 and a half, running wild in the park while grandmother ever so vaguely looked on. When said Wild Child began grabbing from René who started giving him a kind but firm lesson by telling him that's not how we do things, grandmother vaguely intervened - but only after about 5 minutes of jumping, screaming, grabbing Wild Child's antics - and blamed daycare for her grandchild's behaviour. We walked away, shaking our collective heads.

Mothers Who Need to Get Dirty
Oh the parents who take their kids to the park and then yell at them for getting dirty.

I secretly envision them slipping in dog doo on their way home from the park and messing up their designer shoes forever.

So let's set the scene. You have a child. You dress them really well in total designer clothes. You take them to the park. You do not let them go down the slide because it is dirty. You ignore them because you need to check your cell phone or chat to some other superficial mother. You finally realise your child's been missing for 20 minutes, you locate child and then you give them hell because they're dirty.

One time we were busy getting filthy in the sand pit when we were joined by two boys about 10 years old. We chatted about Canada and played a bit together and then Mother came along. She proceeded to get upset at her son for getting sandy at which point I totally and rudely interrupted but smiled sweetly throughout so she couldn't really tell me to shut up. I told her we had been talking about Canada and she HAD to smile and be polite and feign interest. Then she said to her son, "Oh come on, on my birthday too of all days, why can't you just be good?" at which point I butted in again (sweetly smiling) and insisted we all sing her Happy Birthday in English. Oh she was gritting her teeth through her fake-as-hell grin and it was wonderful to put her through the torture of having to wait there and listen to us. Stupid cow.

I am seriously considering making posters to the effect of "Adults - please keep an eye on your children and intervene if necesssary. Forget your mobile phone - enjoy your kids!" and secretly taping them all over the parks!!!

Why a new blog?

I want to start this blog for me and for my small but energetic family. I'm not interested if anyone reads it, except I would like it if I could keep it going and have the kids read it when they are big enough. There are so many things that happen on a day to day basis that I always say, oh I must remember this and that but that I never write down. My memory is so bad anyway that I fear I have lost so many things already so now I am hoping to record a few special things here.