How long does a gingerbread man last?

Ad came home from the bakery with a gingerbread man as a special treat, but our Monkey Boy freaked out when his dad bit its head off! And not just a little freak out, a total screaming inconsolable panic. Luckily his father had bought a second one and it was whipped out to replace the decapitated biscuit man. But now Monkey won't eat it, instead he walks around the house with his gingerbread man, 'cuddling it' and 'kissing it' (his words). It's only been two days, but how long does a gingerbread man last? Won't it go mouldy if we let him keep it for too long? We may have to do a switcherooney like some parents have been known to do when the goldfish dies. I'll keep you posted.



This pic of Bugalugs is totally unrelated to the gingerbread man story, but gratuitous cuteness (and Nanny wants lots of pics of the little fella while they're away).

Happy Birthday Daddy!

Puzzled?!?!

We have a young addict in our house. Monkey Boy has developed a fanaticism for jigsaw puzzles. He doesn't want to eat, or bathe, or sleep. He only has four puzzles but he'll do them over and over and over again, all day and all night (if we'd let him). He cries when I say "come on, we're going out" because he just wants to sit and do his puzzles. What does that suggest for our boy's future? Will he be one of those computer game players that sits up all night, wearing a nappy so he doesn't have to stop to go to the toilet? No! No!

The age of the neglected male?

I read an article in this weekend's Sun Herald magazine, entitled 'the invisible men' and it's given me food for thought. I couldn't post a link so I'll have to summarise: the article claims many men feel overworked and underappreciated. They'd like some recognition for what they do around the house, particularly as they feel 'hurried and harried', rushing from the school drop-off to a breakfast meeting, a busy day, then dashing home for baby's bath time, another night of broken sleep, etc, etc, etc. The article says, self-preservation is stopping the men from complaining - they say why bother when women are so quick to jump down their throats with "You weren't pregnant. You haven't breastfed for five months. I haven't slept for four years". So the men say they're just suffering in silence. All they'd like, the article claims, is some 'rightful recognition for their efforts' (which they say their hard-working female partners are receiving).

My first reaction to this article was a little like the one men are receiving when they complain: I felt my back arching and I wanted to rant about "oh, the poor men, it's so hard being able to go to work and listen to an adult channel on the radio, buy coffee, have an adult conversation, think about something other than nappies and grocery lists". Then I stopped for a breath, because I suppose this reaction is exactly what the men are talking about.

Reading further, the article pointed out a statistic that surprised me: in a 2006 ABS survey, men and women spent almost exactly the same number of hours a day performing professional, childcare and domestic tasks. That average was 11.44 hrs for men and 11.35 hrs for women. Now I know that neither my husband nor my day allows 12 hours of downtime, so this statistic must be skewed by men and women with older (or no) children. But I hear the message: obviously we're all feeling the pressure of modern life and it's leaving little room for words of thanks in either direction.

Whilst most female partners are probably not feeling very recognised for all the hard work they do at home, particularly with no boss to commend them on great work, we probably don't think about our menfolk suffering too. Sure there are articles in the media about how hard it is for modern women to juggle everything and very few articles on the plight of the poor neglected male, but I don't think the media coverage actually reaches anyone personally, and it certainly doesn't make the load any lighter. So yes, perhaps it's time to acknowledge that many men are contributing massively to raising kids and running a household, especially compared to previous generations of fathers. I don't know that the recognition is going to lighten the load, but at least it might make them whistle while they work a little (because the other thing that makes them chirpy is short on supply these days too).

So thanks Honey, I do appreciate you bathing the kids, taking out the recycling, putting out the bins, cleaning the cat litter, making the bed (yes I do notice), emptying the dishwasher, cleaning the kitchen after dinner, changing nappies ...................... etc. xxx

Nothing so under-rated as a good poo

I never thought I would open a nappy with the same anticipation as Charlie opening a Wonka Bar - is it in there?

Our poor little baby Bugalugs goes days (almost a week) without 'movement'. You can tell how long it's been by his mood: getting crankier and crankier as he gets further away from the last one. And the quirkiest thing is that he's stopped pooing in his nappies, preferring to wait until he's bare bottomed. Maybe it's something about the cool air. It had been a record 5 days so he spent most of yesterday's waking hours lying with his bum out and his mum begging him to let it all go. He weed on my foot, he weed on his own head, but he finally got the job done and is now a happy baby again. Ahh the minutiae of my life.

Kin-selected altruism ...

I have a new-found respect for parenting. Especially for stay-at-home mums. I now know from experience that parenting is an almost completely altruistic behaviour. I'll put my zoologist hat on for a second and say that, evolutionarily, a mother devoting herself completely to raising her children gives them (and her genes) the best chance of surving and reproducing. It's termed kin-selected altruism. And when I say that it's altruism, I mean that the benefit for the offspring comes at a cost to the parent. I'm finding that the biggest cost is my intellectual stimulation.

I'm spending too much time at home - picking up toys, knowing what's on daytime telly at any given hour, eating biscuits. I need to get out of the house more and I especially need some input to process and turn into creative thought. But does anyone know of any family adventures that have stimulation for mums too?

I think it's a real shame that most kids' activities only challenge the parents in so much as they are logistically difficult. Any mother out there will know: it starts with getting kids into the car - for me it involves carrying one down the stairs and putting him in the car, then trudging back up to get the other, along with all the stuff kids need; then there are the difficulties of driving with a screaming baby in the back. And I won't even go into the dramas mums face when we're single-parenting out and about (espcially with a bored toddler) because most of you will know, and because whinging isn't very fun to do, nor to read.

So what can we do that is stimulating for mums and not come at a cost to the kids? Any parental brain activity gained from a museum or art gallery is outgunned by the weaponry of a bored child. It's just not worth it. So the answer must lie in an activity that has something for parents and their young children. People looking for new business enterprises out there - I think you'll make a fortune if you offer a solution to this conundrum. I have a feeling that it's the Holy Grail though, and the only feasible solution is for mums to call in support. And who has the same genetic benefit in ensuring the kids' go forth into a well-adjusted adulthood? Dads. Honey ...?

A different wintery world

I came across this old email I sent when Ad and I were living in Alaska in 2005 and I thought it was worth posting here, it tells of such different days and made me realise our winters here are really not so tough. Happy (re)reading ...

"Hello again from the roof of the world!

I'm sitting in our new cabin looking out over the tallest mountain range in the US. The wind is whipping some snow from the rooftop, little birds dart around the birdfeeder and occasionally there's a squirrel that doesn't know it should be hibernating. Thankfully the solstice is edging its way into the past and we're gaining about half an hour of daylight a week. The path the sun takes is so short that we can watch it rise (around 10:30 am) and set (around 3:30 pm) from the same window.

Just before we moved here there was more snow in 2 days than all winter so far. The owners of the cabin couldn't leave the mountain until the snow plough truck had come through. Hopefully it won't happen again for a while, although the thought of being stuck up here for a few days is somewhat appealing. It's 10 to 20 degrees warmer up here than down in town and today it's around 30 below in town, but I'm guessing it's only about 15 below up here (which is probably why there are still squirrels running around). A few nights ago we came home to some very strange tracks in the snow outside our front door. They were bigger than my hand and had long claw marks. We're not sure what critter is wandering around outside but the candidates appear to be a bear (unlikely because they should be hibernating), a lynx (apparently there are a few in the area) or a wolverine!!! We're anxiously awaiting a flesh and blood sighting (ok, maybe not blood), and as I climbed the snow track up to the road yesterday to get firewood, I couldn't help but imagine a black bear watching me.

Ad's been spending the last few days down at the research station collecting muskoxen poo. Ahh the joys of his work. He comes home at night proclaiming "my next job will NOT involve poo", but we shall see. The long hours of research watching muskoxen sleep are thankfully behind us. The weather was unseasonably warm for the first week of our observations (which was when we had the huge snowfalls), so Ad decided to extend it for another week to catch some cold-weather behaviour. You gotta be careful what you ask for because it then hit minus 50! The little heaters in the hide struggled to keep up and I plugged draughts with toilet paper during the graveyard shifts.

The funding didn't come through so we're living on the breadline, but that's ok. It's a real shame I can't work but I'm taking advantage of the opportunity to slow down. I'm baking and knitting every day, learning how to spin yarn and riding out the joys and pitfalls of being a stay-at-home spouse. We'll probably wrap things up here in a few months and hit the road for a couple of months.

Other snippets of life here in Alaska:

• the Aurora has been really active lately and we can sit in our cabin in the warmth of the log fire and through enormous windows watch the dazzling display of green ribbons stretch and contract across the entire sky, feeding itself in some parts and withering away in others. Better than any fireworks display I've ever seen. Last night I watched it from bed.


• We're sick to god-damned death of SNOW. The roads are slippery (Ad had a prang the other night (at 50 below!), he's ok, everyone's ok, and we've skidded up to more than a few red lights, occasionally slipping all the way through them.
  
• The TV is awful, "Everybody loves Raymond" is on every channel at every minute of the day. WE don't love Raymond.


• The coins don't have denominations written on them, just "dime" or "nickel" and Ad's been here 6 months and still doesn't know which is which.


• There's no town centre, and the concept of a shopping mall hasn't taken off here: it's just a big sprawling mass of streets with each store having its own carpark. You drive to one store, get out into the cold, buy your groceries, go back into the cold, get in your car, wait for 10 minutes for the engine to warm up and dive to the next store, get out into the cold, etc. I figure it's just too expensive to heat a shopping mall.


• Driving is a big thing and it's so cold that the car exhaust doesn't dissipate, but hangs around in big stinky clouds.


• Coffee? I've all but given up. Last week I ordered a macchiato and out came a huge weak cappuccino. Just wrong!


• The scenery is spectacular and everything has frosting: pine trees covered in snow, letterboxes covered in snow, rooftops with a foot and a half of snow on them like the icing on a Christmas cake . Dog mushers dashing through the snow, chimneys, smoke.


• Probably most surprisingly, the people are great! Everyone I've met! They're so keen to tell you to have a nice day and stay warm that you'd think it was just a robotic response, but I really think it's sincere. Everyone is so keen to lend me things, I've been lent books, clothes, a wool spinner. It's a truly hospitable place.

Well, better go refill the bird feeder, need to put on a hundred million layers to go outside.

Stay cool and stay in touch. Lots of love Tan & Ad xx (19 Jan 2005)