All posts filed under: teenage son

Driving with teenage son #4

Me: I need something humorous about driving with you for my Blog… Ooh, look at that ‘grey nomad’ old lady over there with her massive brand new shiny RV … mmm, it’s even got a satellite dish… she must be driving round Australia… that’ll be me one day y’know, spending all your inheritance… Him: Well, that’s certainly not funny.

Gift from teenage son…

I heard ‘Almost17’ in the shower at 6am (we had to leave for the airport at 7); he soon came into my room fully dressed, with still-damp hair, where I lay in bed reading before getting up. Him: Move over Mum. Me: [Really??] OK Sweetie. [Sliding over, slightly stunned, but pretending I’m cool…] Him: Happy Mother’s Day. Me: Thanks. You know I think it’s a load of Hallmark crap don’t you, but that’s still lovely, thank you. Are you bringing me peppermint tea in bed? Him: No, I’m too tired. I didn’t get home from the party till 1am. *Rolls on his side away from me*. Spoon me Mum. Me: [REALLY??] OK Sweetie. [Spooning behind him, completely stunned, gingerly resting my arm on top of him and the quilt because, you know, I’m Cool…] Him: No, properly Mum, under the covers. Please let me sleep for another 15 minutes. Me: Sure honey… *Lie there holding my baby boy as he begins to twitch and dream, breathing deeply. For how many nights did I hold him until …

Eating with teenage son…

We’re chatting & laughing as we share my yummy nachos, when suddenly: Him: Mum… Me: [Giggling, cheesey corn chips halfway to my mouth] Yes Sweetie… Him: Have you seen that meme online which says ‘If I can hear you chew your food, I’m fantasizing about killing you’?   *Disclaimer: my son ‘Almost17’ is fabulously kind, sensitive, smart and honest. We spent 2 months sitting in an old Barn in the Dordogne region of France a couple of years ago, cooking, reading, & talking. HERE’S one of my fav longer posts from those days, if you’re interested ❤

Driving with teenage son #1

Him: “Mum, I’d like you to try and control some of your sassy replies; there’s no need to always be so feisty.” Me: [deep breathing through half a dozen sassy replies, and a proud Feminist rave about smashing the patriarchy] “Perhaps you could try choosing not to react to them?” Him: [after pausing for a moment to consider this] “But if you weren’t so sassy, I wouldn’t have to choose that, so nice try Mum, but it’s back to you I’m afraid.”   *Disclaimer: longer post with statistics and his true Feminism HERE  

Walking with teenage son…

… along our favourite sunset beach, talking. Somehow I lose the thread of the conversation (maybe it was yet another rave about surfing?), and tune out a bit. He suddenly says ‘Mum, what are you doing?’. I answer ‘Sorry Sweetie, I didn’t understand what you meant, so I started daydreaming…’ He replies, with that knowing sigh only teenagers can truly master: ‘Well, you’re not going to understand by not listening are you?’

Soggy not Bloggy 

It’s been hard being flooded. Not as hard as for folk in the 2 big towns either side of me, who have been devastated by rivers more than 11 meters over their banks. But still very stressful. Not as stressful as being bombed in the streets of Syria of course, but still pretty shit. It came up so fast. Rainfalls of between 500 & 950mm in 24hrs. An entire month’s rainfall in one dreadful night, thanks to Cyclone Debbie. I’ve had a delightful & significant blog post about Episode 7 in my online dating story drafted for days, but it felt too superficial to post it, when so many of my dear friends, neighbours, & community have been coping with up to 2.5mtrs of brown smelly muddy shitty river water through their homes. People have died, including a mother and her children. Houses have literally been swept away downstream. Business stock has been ruined, and flood insurance is incredibly expensive round here, so not many people have it; there are rumours it’s going to be …

Poetry and knives

I saw this poetry on Facebook today, and it made me sweat. It happened live last night in Australia, and thank goodness my friend Kelly shared it early, so it exploded into my morning. Now it’s Trending all over the place, and rightly so. Kate Tempest ‘Progress’ poem Someone in the Comments called her a mediaeval prophet, and I think that’s perfect. She is completely embodying her passion, her skill, her need to communicate. I love her. So young, and so smart. Did you notice the tweet ‘Kate Tempest reminds us old farts that we stopped maintaining the rage’? Brilliant, and true. So I’m nearly 50, and just missed being a dreaded Baby Boomer, slipping quietly into Gen-X instead. I don’t think I’m particularly materialistic, although I enjoy my I-phone, and laptop, but I don’t think they rule my life…and sometimes I do indeed take Dylan Thomas’s advice: “Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light…” If …

When your teenage son asks if you’re a feminist

‘Yes. Absolutely 100%. Totally, dedicated, committed, Yes!’ I replied. He shrugged, in that gangly, wide-collar-bone way so many teenagers have, and said: ‘Yeah, so am I; it’s just obvious isn’t it?’ My heart nearly burst with pride, and my eyes teared up over our cereal bowls. But I kept my cool, and made a casual remark about how great it was he thought that, and what a shame he wasn’t running the country entire world (he often teases me for my over-enthusiasm; I really don’t know what he means). That was last year. Yesterday, on March 7 2016, the day before International Women’s Day, the Australian Council of Trade Unions (ACTU) released their updated report ‘Gender Pay Gap – Over the Life Cycle’, which sums up its findings with this nugget of shame: “Australian women are financially disadvantaged at every key stage of their life: in childhood, at the workplace, through pregnancy, motherhood and as a carer, and in retirement.” This is why I’m a Feminist. I care about financial equality because we live in a …