I just don’t know… Do you?

I have been thinking a lot lately about schools, and choices of schools. Location, what each one offers, how it is offered, how staff treat students – are they respectful? Do they let students have a voice? Is staff thinking done inside or outside the box? These are the thoughts that fill my mind. These are some of the key things I look for in a school. The uniform makes no difference to me. The outward appearance of buildings is not on my list of things to look at. I care little about NAPLAN results or the MySchool website. So, how do I know a school is the right fit for each of my children?

Next year is the Blue Eyed Boy’s last year of primary school. The search for a high school is beginning to get underway… very slowly. We need to get this right. He needs a school that will allow him to thrive, follow his interests, encourage him to think for himself, solve problems, and help him find his footing in the adult world. It’s a tall order. But one I expect staff to fulfil. I don’t expect them to do it alone, the line that it take a village to raise a child… it’s overused, but it’s true. For the Blue Eyed Boy that village consists of his parents, his sister, his extended family, his friends, the t.v, movies, books, popular culture, the man at the post office, the neighbours, his team mates and cricket coach to name a few… and his teachers.

The Green Eyed Girl will have three more years if primary school after this year. She has, along with her brother been to two other schools due to relocation interstate. But, I have a nagging unease with the school she is at currently. Thinking outside the box? Not much. Real, honest respect for children and their points of view? Not too sure about that… I know lip service in paid. The expectation that children can be autonomous, independent, self reliant learners choosing their own path with guidance and expert help from teachers? Am I asking too much?

Literacy, maths… the basics are covered. But there is so much more to education. So much more. When I think about the amount of technological change that occurs… the amount of information children have at their fingertips it is amazing. My kids think nothing of taking a USB wrist band to school to show the class photos from the weekend on an interactive whiteboard. I took Holly Hobby swap cards. And really, is it that difficult to think of an activity in the school garden other than spreading mulch for a child with hay fever… surely sweeping, weeding, taking cuttings… being the class documenter with the digital camera seems a better option than choosing a friend and heading indoors to just clean out your desk.

I know I sound like one of those difficult to please parents. But really, I am anything but. It’s just when a school continually lacks the willingness to take on new ideas, well researched, well documented research in the field of education with the old ‘we’ve been doing it this way for the past 15 years, no need to change’ adage I begin to wonder if this is the right school for my child. A child that will not be living in the ‘15 years ago good old days’ but in a world that changes and adapts at an alarming rate! A world where people will most likely change career paths and careers more than once. A world where flexibility, imagination, the ability to think on your feet and adapt will be the order of the day, do I need to look at a different school now? Or do I leave her with a safety net of friendship and familiarity? Will the rest of her village make up for the part the school plays?

I just don’t know…

So, dear readers, I’m asking you… what do you look for in a school? What is important to you? Because in our house, we’re at a cross roads…

Post Script -

Ok I should add a few things… our kids have been in both elite private school and the public system.

Also – I am a teacher as are both my sisters, between us we span from the first to the last year of formal education. I attend professional development through out each year, so the research I talk about, way education is heading nationally, I know about. I think for me, this has made the decision process all that much harder. I have an inside view of the schooling system. Not that it is all that much help all the time! Also there has been somewhat of an exodus from the primary school by other families. I have been reluctant to leave because I want to know if we do decide to move our daughter we do it for her, not because other families are. For our son, the choice of high school is less problematic, but still a hard choice.

Also, there are some wonderful staff at the school. Wonderful. But when they are outweighed by negatives… I wonder if it’s worth it.

Image source

Tags: it takes a village, my school website, NAPLAN, never say never

Humble pie with thanks a la mode.

Yesterday I was in a right funk.  I was having one of those days. We all do, I know…I was not going to click the publish button… but I thought if I really am going to have a blog that is about the good, the bad, and the down right ugly, if I really do believe that there should be more honesty about being a woman, and less of a veneer, then I better walk the walk.  I did.  Then I cried.  A lot. Every comment set me off again.  But, I am OK.  I have got passed it, well, almost.

In an effort the pull myself up by the bootstraps I walked around the house and took photos of some of the things I love about it.

I want to thank you all for your words.  They helped.  A lot.  Sometimes there really is nothing for it but to let the walls down, have a good cry and then get on with it.  I will be gentle to myself this week.  We should all be gentle with ourselves.  Thanks Seraphim for reminding me of that.

So then, here are some the things that I love…

Thank you all again, big, big love to you all,

Naomi xxx

Read more…

Tags: blog, build a bridge, never say never, weekend, wrapped in love

One of those days.

Today is not a good day. It just isn’t. There is no particular reason, as well as a thousand or so little ones. Really, I am just in the middle of a big self pity party… and it would appear I am inviting you all along for the ride… if I actually post this.

I know some people have real reasons to feel like the black dog is nipping at their heels… but after 5 months of extra work I am feeling isolated and tired, and well, feed up with it all really.

I like to be a glass half full kinda gal. But today I just can’t get my shit together.

Sometimes, just sometimes, I wonder when my family are going to catch a break… when will it be our turn?

I have friends holidaying overseas, again.  I have friends buying new homes, stopping work forever, friends all going out to a gala dinner that Hubby and I couldn’t get to… I convinced myself that we weren’t the only couple that couldn’t go.  I was wrong.

I am sick of people reminding me I am only renting the house we call home… as if I needed reminding. I am sick of hearing on the news every night that property prices are booming, and people are being pushed out of the market.  I am one of those people being pushed out of the market.

I know this was our choice, I know that.  We have a plan, we made a decision to sell and move and start again, and most days I am happy with that decision… but today? Today it’s too hard. Today I don’t want to be starting again. I don’t want a plan to stick to. Today I want to be in my own home, where I can smack a nail in the wall and hang a picture if I want, not have them collecting dust, leaning against the wall next to my bed, reminding me of our apparent failure in mainstream living.

Today I don’t want my kids to have head lice.  I don’t want to cook tea and I don’t want Hubby to have to spend another day working so we don’t have to keep living in a rental house with asbestos walls and termite damage.  Today I don’t want to remind myself how lucky I am, that there are homeless people, and people with no food, no money, no friends.  Today I don’t want to point out all the charming, quirky features of this house, even though I usually love them. I look out the window at a beautiful autumn tree, leaves dreamily floating down to the ground.  I am trying to see the beauty, but I cannot.   Today I can’t kick the nipping dog.

Today I want to be someone else.

Tags: never say never

Bloggers Without Makeup.

The inspirational Jodie from Mummy Mayhem wrote earlier this week about how we all like to see un-photoshopped pictures of celebrities and stars as well as shots of them without make up.  Jodie then issued a challenge… and it has set the blogosphere and twitterverse alight. This Friday, thanks to Jodie, is Bloggers Without Makeup Day. Read Jodie’s post here, and there will be lots of links to other lovely blogs that are joining in on her blogging good idea too, you can see them here.

So, why am I taking part?  Because really, if I talk about stars needing to bare all, then I should talk the talk… not that I’m suggesting by any stretch of the imagination I’m a star.  Also, because I am a mum, and I want my children to know it is alright to be seen sans makeup.  That although I spend time most mornings fussing over my face, and though I love a good excuse to glam up, it is also fine to be seen without.  That the world wont stop and people will still chat, and I will still be able to smile, and function and go places without makeup.  I do wear makeup most days, I am very conscious of the dark circles under my eyes… I have two products for that.  But, I am almost 39… I have lived my life (so far) with lots of laughter, my fair amount of stress and not too much (I hope) hard living… and you know what? I’m OK… even without my makeup. So thank you Jodie for your inspirational post, and the bravery to go first.

So, then, this is me… naked as it were.

*P.S I did edit this photo… I cropped it, just a little, because, really, no one needs to see two over full buckets waiting to go to the compost bin, trust me on that.

AND…. due to popular demand… the unedited picture WITH the compost! ta daaaa!

Tags: naked blogging, never say never

I have been bitten by the fox with his sharp sharp teeth, he has left his mark on my shoulder.

Well dear readers, (if there are any of you left) I have once again been neglectful of my little blog. Work began again this week, and I have been busy setting up, being at a conference, meeting and greeting new families, and doing paper work. Thrilling. I know.

I have also been rather absent from Twitter (insert small sob here) and from blog reading (insert pitiful sob here.)

It has, however been an interesting week none the less.  It was the week I got tattooed.  Yes, that’s right tattooed. I have been wanting a tattoo for a long, long time.  Once, some years ago I even made an appointment to have one done, but the tattooist in question looked at what I wanted and said ‘no, can’t do that, the line work is too fine.’ Well, you can imagine the confidence that inspired in me.  I cancelled the appointment.

Since then I have continued the search for the perfect image, and the perfect tattoo artist.  My search ended last week when I came across a web site. I rang, they said  just drop in anytime to discuss what I wanted, so I did, but the artist in question was busy.  It was a little confronting walking in to a shop front and seeing 2 people being tattooed right in front of me.  I wasn’t sure where to look.   I made a time to come back and discuss my ideas with my chosen artist – for artists these people truly are.

I returned two days later and discussed what I wanted with Ryan, my chosen tattooist.  He went away, drew it up and showed me… I beamed! It was perfect. So, as I waited for him to set up I signed the paperwork. A man about my age and his partner were there too, he was choosing his design, and another younger man was being tattooed as well. He had 2 hours to still go and  he had been there at least an hour already… so, I thought to my self, how much can it hurt really.  I was to be tattooed in the shop front, with people walking past me on Smith Street Collingwood looking in. People came in and out, chatting to various artists, showing what they wanted, where they wanted it… one bloke even dropping trousers… meanwhile, I’m standing there with one singlet top strap and one bra strap tucked under my arm, shoulder bared having the transfer applied.  No one batted an eye lid at any of this. It was refreshing actually, people of all ages, shapes and sizes, baring skin, baring body, without judgement, without fear.   I checked placement in a double mirror, and then it started.

The buzzing noise was close to my ear.  There was light pressure, a small scratching sting… this is Ok I thought… easy.  Fool.  The second part was right on my shoulder blade. I had heard people say that being tattooed close to bone can hurt.  They are right.  But it was a controlled pain, of my own choosing.  After about 45 minutes I was done.  My tattoos were covered in plastic wrap and I was ready to go home.  A marked woman.  I love my tattoo, and am already planning to add to this one, or get another one.

For me, being tattooed was very personal.  What you choose to have put on your body, and where you have it, it is very personal.  A friend said I will regret having it done.  But I don’t, and I wont.  Someone also said I may regret it when I’m 90.  But I wont. If I’m 90 I’ll be happy to still be kicking and I’ll be able to say that I made choices about my body for me. And at the end of the day, it’s me who has to like it!

Note – the title of this post is what I wrote as my status on facebook when I arrived home from having the tattoo done.  It is also a hint at the name of the place I was tattooed.

Tags: blog, never say never, tattoo, twitter

Clearly I have lost my mind.

I have decided in my INFINITE wisdom to have an alcohol free weekend. That’s no al-co-mo-hole. None. Nil. Nadda. I know, I hear you ask, what was I thinking? What. Was. I. Thinking?
Well the ‘thought’ process went something like this -
Hmm, big week coming up, staff meeting, committee meeting, birthday, interstate travel, charity dinner… perhaps an alcohol free week would be a good idea… No wait, can’t… it’s my birthday, must drink a celebratory glass on my birthday… and after staff meting, committee meeting 14 hour day I need a glass, it’s the law… and Wednesday, well, thats Hump Day (mind out of the gutters, hump as in top of the hill, downward slide to weekend) and well, Hump Day deserves a glass being raised…  so perhaps just the weekend, that shall be perfectly doable… pffft! Easy peasy, right… right? (Note my confident tone) 

So, by now you are all feeling sick… well at least I am anyway… and I’m once again reminded that a smug, off the cuff decision is not always the right decision.

So here we are, Saturday… day one, and it’s going well.  A light spot of retail therapy, some washing, a spot of lunch… it’s a beautiful day, perfect in fact for sitting on the deck in the early evening air with a glass of cool… water. 

By early afternoon on any given Saturday I can be found wandering out to the kitchen pouring myself a glass of wine. Plup, plup, plup, plup, plup,  ahh music to my ears! Today however I’m wandering out to the kitchen and scoffing chips, crusty bread and boiled musk lollies… mmm, refreshing! 

Then comes the time to prepare the evening meal… but I feel that something is amiss. I can’t quite put my finger on it until I absent mindedly reach for my little helper, also known as sauvignon blanc… which is not there.  To cheer myself up I pour water into a wine glass… yummy! 

After tea Hubby showers the kids and gets them ready for bed, he just knows that this task is beyond me at the moment… and besides, I’m busy…  there are still a few chip crumbs in the bottom of that bag!

So here it is, the end of day 1,  kids in bed, dishes done (again Hubby, thank you) and another bag of chips opened… well, I ate all the bread, and I cut my tongue on a boiled lolly shard… chips are all I have left.  

And before you comment, I know this is day 1, and in theory I have another whole day alcohol free to blog about… but I’m just not sure I’ll be up to it tomorrow.  Either I’ll be onto my third Gin and Tonic by now, or I’ll be licking the salt from the insides of an empty chip packet.  And no one wants to blog about that!

Tags: Drinking, hump day, never say never, smugness

Collingwood, forever in the family.

Now, I never, NEVER, N.E.V.E.R thought I’d be a football watcher, or a football attendee (and by football I refer to AFL, just to be clear). But, I live in Melbourne, I have a son, I have a father (yes, and I have a hubby, but Hubby does not care for AFL). So, when we moved to Melbourne, I worded Master 10 up… ‘honey, It’s up to you, we don’t care either way, but, I reckon the first thing you’ll be asked at school is, who’s your footy team?’ Master 10 thought for a bit then asked who my Dad’s team was… I told him. ‘Oh, OK… I’ll go for them too.’ Righto problem solved, he had an answer for the question that would be asked, that’s that then, move along nothing to see here…

I told my Dad the news, and he was delighted! Now, Dad is a generous, passionate, ideas man, and he had a plan… so, on his second trip with Mum to visit us, he took Master 10 to the football… Hubby went too, I took Mum and Miss 8 home.  Well, on that day, a footy fan was born.  How could he not? RIGHT at the front, at the MCG… and his team WON!  The look on Master 10’s face on his return home grabbed hold of my heart… it was one of those all encompassing moments of love, my blue eyed boy with a shine and a smile, and a spark…

So, from then on, every visit from my parents involved a trip to the footy for Master 10, just him and his Granddad.  It also involved junior membership to the club of choice, and inter-generational bonding.  Then one day Miss 8 decided she too wanted to go to the footy, fine no worries… oh wait… that means a female family member also has to go, you know, for toilet trips…  and so it came to pass that that female was me.  I was thankful that the family team was thoughtful enough to encompass black as a major part of their colours, so I could wear my expanding range of all black clothes, and still look like I was supporting the team (bonus).

What I didn’t expect, was that I would love it so much! Sure I’m a competitive gal, I love to be on the winning side… and for most of the time we are a winning side… but what I wasn’t ready for was that I would actually, really enjoy it.  Part of the enjoyment is the thrill of being in the company of 60, 70, 80 odd thousand excited, pumped, people.  But mostly it’s the fact that there are 3 generations of one family all together, all united.  My Dad has told the story for as long as I can remember about how his grandfather was born on the streets of Collingwood… and now when people start the traditional Collingwood trashing, I proudly say, ‘my kids are 4th generation Pie’s supporters… it’s in our blood.’ We even watch matches at home now, the couch, the TV, the chips… the family hurling abuse at the TV…

So, next season, Dad is making Miss 8 and me members as well as Master 10 and himself, and you know what? I can not wait.

Tags: never say never

Never Say Never

A wise woman once said to me never say never…

MY LIST OF THINGS I SAID I’D NEVER DO… (in no particular order)

1. Get drunk again… blerk, hangovers…

2. Send my kids to more than 1 primary school… does the second one count? they were only there 6 weeks!

3. Use fertility treatment… well I did… then got pregnant while on a break!

4. Move house once kids were born…. there’s that house we call ‘the place that shall not be named’…

5. Get drunk again…  really, am too old for that.

6. Wear crocs… but really, they are so comfy, but just around the house…

7. Get drunk again, NO REALLY, this time I really mean it.

8. Wear crocs with socks (it’s a crime against fashion) … ok, but only when it’s cold, and I’m going to the washing line…

9.  Live in certain suburbs… ah, you know the place that shall not be named?

10. Wear crocs with socks in public… OK school pickups, that’s not public is it?

11. Pole dance… In my defense I was at an 80’s theme night at a nightclub…

12. Be one of those ‘older’ loud, drunk, women singing and dancing to 80’s music… so tragic (er…see above)

13. Get drunk again…  I REALLY DO MEAN IT… just 1 vodka martini and then I’m just drinking water all night OK?

Tags: never say never