I wasn’t going to post this, but last night I saw on the news that the ‘Save our Figs’ Barrister had emailed some Newcastle City Councillors saying he hoped they died of cancer. One word: DIGUSTING.
If you’re not a Novacastrian and would like some background information before reading my rant please head here: http://www.theherald.com.au/newssearch.aspx?q=figs&sb=rel&so=asc
I never felt the need to weigh in on the Newcastle Figs debate. Probably because, to be completely honest, I wasn’t really that interested. Until now. The other day I was driving down King St, the street parallel to ‘Fig St’ and there were at least 6 cop cars parked there. I glanced over to my right to see the large construction fence in place plus an enormous police van.
My first thought, what an absolute waste of police resources. Why aren’t those resources being used to combat the moron’s that cause upteen problems on the streets at night. Or to catch dickhead drivers. Or to…. I could go on and on, but I won’t.
No, instead these police resources are being used for the safety of the removal of the Figs in Laman Street, Newcastle, because of the greenie protestors. Look, don’t get me wrong, I care about our environment. Ok, so I use disposable nappies, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want clean fresh air, and grass for my daughter to play outside.
But I’m a realist. And realistically, spending millions, yes MILLIONS of dollars fighting protestors is beyond ridiculous, especially when these trees are being removed because of safety issues. And plus they’re replacing the trees! Yes that’s right replacing them with properly grown, more suitable figs.
I’ve heard comments that Newcastle should be ashamed of itself for the removal of the trees, due to their history and how it wasn’t good for our children. I’m sorry but what is embarrasing is the absolute waste of Council money on this. Even more embarrassing for Newcastle is the fact that there were death threats made against Councillors. Death threats. Over trees. Seriously give me a break. It is so absurd I can barely put it into words. How dare someone think that a tree is more important than another human beings life.
I don’t know the exact in’s and out’s of the whole debate and frankly I don’t wish too. What I do know is that some people clearly need to pull their heads in and see the more important things in life. My child’s safety when walking down the street is more important to me than the history of the trees. And to threaten another persons life, that not only affects them but the rest of their family as well including their children just makes me sick.
Millions of dollars and death threats. That’s what Newcastle should be embarrassed about.
It seems that once you become a parent (even before the baby is born) you open yourself up to advice, from strangers and loved ones, wanted and unwanted, criticism and judgement.
We’re all guilty of judging other parents, and offering advice, but what happens when judgement is misplaced and unneccesary.
Recently someone commented that they can’t wait for John and I to have a second child, implying that we’d then appreciate how hard parenthood really is. Because apparently John shot their child ‘a look’ when their child was misbehaving and the parents were doing nothing about it. Did the comment piss me off much? Um, yes just a tad. To fully appreciate this comment, let me start at the beginning.
When I was pregnant there were many, many people rubbing their hands together smiling like a stupid cheshire cat waiting to see how my darling ex-bachelor husband would handle fatherhood. I even had the suggestion made to me that if we sold tickets there’d be a line around the corner wanting to catch a glimpse of John in the early days of fatherhood.
I could have easily jumped up and down telling everyone to stick there comments where the sun don’t shine, instead I smiled sweetly and rubbed my own hands together knowing full well they’d all be shot down when John turned out to be a wonderful Dad. I wouldn’t have married him if I didn’t think he’d make a wonderful father. And of course his little girl came into the world, melted his heart and had him changing nappies before he could ask, what’s that smell?!
John’s own father even commented he was pleasently surprised at what a hands on Dad his son was. No pleasent surprise for me, I always knew he would be.
So our gorgeous daughter has been and is a wonderful baby, full of personality and cheekiness, a good sleeper and a good little eater. That’s not to say we don’t have shitty days or shitty nights, but over all we’d like to think we’re doing a pretty darn good job. So why not compliment this instead of being negative and making comments like the one that started this whole rant.
I don’t doubt that 2 kids is much harder than 1, but it doesn’t necassrily mean that you know more or are better parents then someone else because you have more children.
The most amazing pieces of advice usually come from those who don’t actually have children of their own. I was recently told that I needed to put more effort into my blog. I needed to get myself and Sophie into a routine and set aside blogging time for myself to improve my blog.
How nice would that be, regular time set aside for myself to blog. That would be great. In a perfect world. And we all know that said perfect world, unfortunatelty does not exist. While Sophie is in a great routine (thank you ‘Save our Sleep’) not everything is the same everyday. I’d love to say, right I’m going to blog every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. But what happens when Tuesday night Sophie screams for an hour at 11pm because her mouth is hurting from teething. Or we sit up at the hospital for 3hours from 1am because her temperature sky rockets to nearly 40 degrees. Or when I put her down for afternoon nap and sit down for my scheduled blogging time and she throws up all over her cot.
Unfortunately as I’ve mentioned before this blog has taken a back seat to motherhood, and rightly so. Posts are few and far between but blogging doesn’t always have to be everyday, or always 3 times a week. Most bloggers aren’t paid for their writing (happy for that to change if anyone wants to pay me!), it’s all for the love, and in my case, it’s cheaper than therapy.
So back to my original rant about judgement. At the end of the day, those in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. And before you judge another parent, just remember, we’re all doing the hardest job in the world, all with different children, all with different beliefs. And don’t forget to look in your own backyard before criticising others.
Ever had one of those days where whatever could go wrong, will? You’ll be able to sympathise with my friend Louise* then! A simple trip to Melbourne for her sisters wedding, soon turned into a comedy of errors. And for us, a very funny read…
As Louise puts it:
My plans were:
0600 depart Newcastle
0730 arrive melb
1330 (1.30pm) hair in portsea
1630 (4.30pm) wedding.
Fly in and land as per plan. Other half advises that he didn’t bring pants (WHAT THE??) and that he would like to go shopping. Deep breath out… OK lets do breakfast then go to Chadstone (I’m sure the worlds BIGGEST shopping centre and even has its own Tiffanys and Co) Arrive Chadstone 1000, deal is Boy shop for pants then phone me when ready. Game over no later than 1200 to drive to hair appointment. I intended to go get mani and pedi to not spend too much money… oh yeah I LURVE CHADSTONE.
Well – long story short – I wandered round Chaddy, found a dress I have been searching for (involved asking a stranger where she got her RED dress from) had to buy new matching shoes, got my nails done and then…
Bride rang and said ‘can you talk to dad, he sounded distracted when she phoned him earlier.’ So rang dad. Dad was his usual organised self, not, and was charged with picking up the wedding cake. WELL. At 11.20 he had not LEFT HOME YET and the cake was at Chaddy, which was like Charlestown on a Sat morning. DEFINITELY NOT EMPTY and in no shape to simply breeze in and collect a wedding cake! So I said to dad that we were in Chadstone, and we would do the cake (I had visions of no wedding cake at reception…) So we hare around Chaddy to find a trolley then fang to the cake shop, get cake and hurtle into car. We zoom down to the reception (golf course), drop cake off, and I hurl Mike* off at the Country Club (next door thank Tgoodness) and race to get my hair done.
Meanwhile I forgot to metion why I am racing around… WELL
Jen* (Bride) had phoned and was telling me the updated location for …. PHOTOS. Um what photos I am thinking… the photos BEFORE THE CEREMONY at 2pm. Krikey! Hair appointment 1.30, cake dropped off at 1.20, and um PHOTOS AT 2? And amongst all this, Jen had booked my hair appointment time! SO arrive at hair 10 mins late (land speed records on back roads of Portsea) no chit chat, just wash blow dry hair pinned, off to the parents of the grooms small seaside waterfront mansion. Launch into a bathroom, did the superman change from jeans to dress, race out in time for one snap photo then off to the on-location photo shoot at the beach – it’s a clifftop ceremony. LOL the only makeup I have on is a swipe of mascara and some lip gloss! Note: father of the bride is at the parents of the grooms mansion.
Arrive at photo location with sister, bride and father of the bride. Take photos. Jane* (other sister) and I travel to next clifftop for ceremony.
All guests arrive, we all cram into a clifftop walkway and ceremony begins. I am facing bride (downwards) and Jane is on opposite side of crowd facing upwards. Both of us commence scanning crowd for father of bride. Nowhere to be seen… mind you there is 80 people squashed in. maybe he is just ‘amongst it all’. I am standing next to parents of groom. Mother of groom (Marilyn) and father of groom (Rob) whisper. Marilyn turns around and says ‘wheres Glen?’ (Father of the bride) I have to say ‘don’t know!’ mmmmm. Ceremony starts. Ceremony finishes. Celebrant calls for Marilyn and Glen to come forward to witness the signing. Marilyn – tick. Glen – absent. ABSENT!!! The father of the bride MISSED THE WHOLE WEDDING and was nowhere to be seen. I race through carpark to phone and ring him. He answers and I screech WHERE ARE YOU (I was hoping for no answer so maybe he had had a heart attack and a VALID reason for a – answering phone and b – not being on site) Im LOST he says. I have to resist the urge to tell him to keep driving – home – and make sure he gets here. I go back to the ceremony and Jane has signed the docs in dads absence.
Father of the groom delivers a lovely speech. Then father of the bride is asked to step to the mic. Father of the bride spends the first 2 mins telling everyone how he was instructed to speak for 3-4 mins only and that the father of the groom spoke for too long, but, dear listener, he wont. Then he rambles and stammers in a speech so shocking that was focussed on why his wife didn’t come (including telling everyone how Grace (his step-daughter) was ‘last chance at australian girls choir’ ) two tearful, over the top references to our mother, then a long winded ramble about Jen (Bride) better fitting to a povo 21st than a 33yr olds wedding. The speech was so bad that people were talking about it AFTERWARDS.
Other than that, the bride looked stunning in a strapless vera wang. Weather was to die for.
Phew. I have vented.
Ever had a day like Louise’s?!
*Names have been changed.