Lightening Online

I picked up this awesome idea from a friend of mine that we stayed with on our big trip.

It’s pretty simple and once set up, is easy to use.

I just used our own ideas for rewards and consequences.

Ours looks something like this:

Lunch Order

Get to Stay Up 1/2 hr Later (Fri or Sat night)

Choose a Meal (home made)

START

1/2 hr Earlier Bedtime

No Weekend Screen Time

No Dessert for a Week

My friend had a fancy big poster with the kids photo’s stuck to the chart.

I just printed off a simple table on the computer onto yellow paper then laminated it.  The kids each have one of their name stickers made into a small label that gets stuck onto the chart with blu tak and can be moved up and down as necessary.

Each chart cycle lasts for a week.  Whichever row they are on when it gets to Friday night bedtime is what they get (they don’t always get the reward or punishment imposed that night but it’s what we arrange for them as early as possible – for example, the lunch order has to wait until the next school day).  Saturday morning everyone returns to START and away we go again.

It’s working REALLY well for us.

The kids LOVE it.  They love getting to move themselves up on the chart when they’ve been particularly helpful or pleasant.  They HATE having to move themselves down on the chart (we get them to physically do it themselves to reinforce it) but appreciate the opportunity to “redeem” themselves if they’ve been acting up.

Farmboy is finding it really helpful because he’s sometimes at a loss as to what to do with the kids.  It can help defuse situations before they get fully blown.  And it seems to be helping him watch and reward the positive stuff (something that doesn’t come naturally if you’re not trained in doing it).

We try to focus more on the positive side of things as much as we can and so far the lowest anyone has finished has been the 1/2 hr earlier bedtime slot.  That doesn’t mean they don’t all move down the chart at some point or another but overall they mostly finish up at either START (which means they don’t get anything – positive OR negative) or above.

I love it too as the kids are really trying to hard to do the right thing and have a positive attitude to helping out around the house.  It suits me too when they choose a meal to have.  And it’s a way for them to “earn” having lunch orders.  We don’t usually have all that many but I like the idea of them “earning it”.

It’s possible that the novelty will wear off after a time.  And maybe at some point we’ll refresh it with some different rewards and consequences.  But we’ve been going for nearly 2 months now and it still seems to be going well.

My niece is.

No doubt I’ll blink and we’ll be celebrating her 1st birthday.

Anyway, here are some pics as promised.

I finally remembered I had stashed the camera in the glove box of the car.

One of the advantages of having kids first is that they then get the benefit of younger cousins.  Mind you, I think Lleyton would rather have a cousin his own age but you can’t have everything.

I love watching my kids hold a baby.

She certainly makes my kids seem very grown up.

There’s someone else I love to watch holding a baby too:

There was a time when he wouldn’t hold a baby until they were about a year old.  He’s much more confident and relaxed around them now.  He probably doesn’t look it in the photo because she was starting to fuss and he’s actually moving her to settle her.

Clucky?

Me?

*sigh*

I can’t seem to convince Farmboy that we should have another.  It probably doesn’t help that I had a dream recently that we had twins -  a male and a female.

Personally, I think now would be a great time to have twins.  Look at all the helpers I’d have!

Him?  Not so much.

Guess I’ll have to be satisfied with the kind you can hand back.

I don’t tend to get too involved with political discussions.  I usually prefer the ostrich mentality of “stick my head in the sand and let someone else worry about it”.  Plus I like to avoid conflict whenever I can so embarking on political debate kind of goes against the grain.  I mean, there’ll always be someone who disagrees with your viewpoint.

However, I’m going to stick my neck out here and say I’m not a big fan of paid maternity leave.

I have 3 main reasons:

1.  Somewhere along the line, someone is going to have to pay for it.

It’s either going to come out of our taxes or cause an increase in the cost of goods and services.  That money has to come from somewhere!  So what are we really achieving at the end of the day?

If the cost of living goes up, or our taxes do, having children is only going to become more difficult, not less.

2.  Why do people need enticement to have children?

I have to question anyone who needs extra enticement to have children.  Motherhood involves sacrifice.  Lots of it.  If you’re not willing to make it - are you really ready?

Are we going to entice the best types of people into motherhood with all the incentives we’re adding?

3.  It forces people back into the workforce

I know someone who had 13 weeks paid maternity leave in the private sector.  The catch?  She has 12 months to get back to work or she loses her maternity leave payment.  Too bad if the money is spent and she doesn’t want to go back to work.

I’m not against wormen in the workforce.  I’m a big believer in personal choice.  But I’m also a fan of stay at home mums and I think we really don’t need anymore arm twisting to push mums back into the workforce before they are ready.

There you have it.  My opinion on paid maternity leave.  I acknowledge that it’s not a clear cut “one size fits all” type of arrangement.  And the lastest offering by the government seems more of a political stunt than anything.  I haven’t looked into it in depth but it sounds like you have to sacrifice other payments in order to get the paid maternity leave they are offering.

I still think the old system they had in place back in the baby bonus days is the best.  Many people didn’t realise that when the government first brought in the $3000 lump sum payment, it was actually a decrease in the amount parents got for their children.

The concept of the baby bonus (not the maternity payment) is that those on high incomes when they have their children get paid more over the first 5 years of their life.  It’s a tax repayment system.  If you paid a lot of tax before your child was born and then went on to not earn an income (or a lesser income), the government gave you some of that tax back.  Seems fair to me.  Those who didn’t pay a lot of tax still got $500 a year for the first 5 years of their child’s life.

Over To You

I’d love to hear your opinions on paid maternity leave.  Fair?  Unfair?  Reasonable?  Unreasonable?  How do you think the government should tackle the whole “family payments” system?

My firstborn is off to camp today. It’s not the first camp he’s been on. But I find it doesn’t get any easier to let them go. This time they’re travelling 500km away. It seems so FAR if something were to happen.

Still, it’s an important part of growing up and I’m thankful that Lleyton doesn’t seem to suffer from homesickness or anxiety over being away from us.

No doubt he’ll have a ball!

They’re staying at an Adventure Campsite with flying fox, rock climbing and an obstacle course. They’re doing visits to Monarto Zoo, the Aquatics Centre, an Aami stadium tour (which obviously he’ll LOVE), Museum and who knows what else. All the things that aren’t accessible from here in a simple day time excursion.

We have a fabulous Deputy Principal at our school who is particularly enthusiastic about this kind of stuff. He’s particularly lucky because this is really a “year 7″ camp and he’s a year 6 in the 6/7 camp. Chances are he’ll get to go again next year (or somewhere similar).

And they were able to get funding so the camp has cost us $122.50 which is amazing for what they’re getting and the distance they have to travel.

Farmboy and I are heading away this week as well so I guess we’ll hardly even notice his absence (and as it turns out, we’ll be a little closer if something does happen - so he’s not going to be as far away from us for the WHOLE time he’s away).

Still, my little boy is GROWING UP! *sob* He’s even getting to the stage where he’d rather not have hugs and kisses (although I still kind of insist because I think it’s important).

I don’t even want to THINK about the day when he might leave home!

Dear Mr Contact,

Yes, I know that “Contact” is actually a brand and that I should in fact be referring this memo to all “adhesive book covering” companies. But the truth is, we all call is “contact”, no matter who made it.  And “adhesive book covering” is quite a mouthful compared to “contact”.
I would be pleased if you could consider the following points when next testing the quality control of your product:

1. Please make sure that all “adhesive book covering” is actually ADHESIVE! There is nothing worse than trying to stick something to a book covering that won’t stick! And sticking to itself does. not. count!
2. If you cannot get your contact onto the backing paper without bubbles, then how on earth am I ever going to get it onto a book without it bubbling all over the place???? Sheesh! With all the technological advancements we’ve made in this world, is it too much to ask for contact that won’t bubble???
3. While the pretty pictures all over the covering are lovely, my 11 year old is not into Bratz, Tweety Bird or Spiderman. In fact, he hasn’t been into any of these for MANY years. WHY can I NEVER find any covering appropriate for him?

Kind Regards,

A Frustrated Parent

Today is my first day of long service leave. I’m celebrating by cleaning the house!

My youngest started full-time school today.

All 3 of my children have worked hard to make the transition as painless as possible by being absolutely feral for the past week. Plenty of bickering and whining and stirring going on. Enough to make me kind of relieved that school went back today.

How kind and thoughtful of them to do that for me.

I did spend an hour in Trailer Boys classroom this morning. While he was rather excited, he did get a little overwhelmed at first when we got to school. But he settled in after a while as I expected he would.

So, now I’m home. Alone. Attempting to clean away some of the feral-ness the school holidays has left upon my home. And breaking out in a sweat in these 40+ degree temperatures.

The long-service leave?

Well, I’ve spent the past 11 years at home with kids under 5. And people start asking you what you’re going to do when your youngest starts school. So, I tell them I’m taking long-service leave. I’ve worked full-time in this job for more than 10 years so I figure I deserve it. Even if it’s only 8-4. I’ll even get paid just as much as I did as a full-time mum!

My actual plans this term are to go through the entire house and declutter as much as I can. After several years of keeping up with the basics as best we could, it is in desperate need of a decent declutter, sort out and deep clean. When that’s done, I may even get some painting done.

How does that sound for an exciting way to spend my long service leave?

There are 7 more sleeps until school goes back!

Yes, I’m counting.

Mostly because Trailer Boy keeps asking when will it be a school day. Because he can’t wait to start school.

But also because my children are kind of driving me crazy!!!

And I think we’re all ready for school to go back.

And it makes me sad to think that a part of me is longing to “get rid of” my children, even if it is only for a for hours a day (the day certainly goes quickly enough!).

I’m the kind of mum who cries when her kids leave the nest to go to school.

But I’m also aware that there is no way I could ever homeschool my children.

I take my hat off to anyone who can.

I’m just not one of those people.

I hope wanting my kids to go back to school doesn’t make me a bad mum.

Cos I don’t wanna be a bad mum.

P.S. Yes, I counted right. School goes back on a Tuesday here. Someone seems to think we all need a day off to celebrate Australia’s “Australia-ness” or something like that (Monday is a public holiday for Australia Day).

It’s been a busy week here in the Lightening household. Our youngest started his school visits this week. The first week they go twice but only stay until recess time so there’s been lots of to-ing and fro-ing to town.

I have to admit that it’s been a rather emotional time for me. All of my life I’ve wanted to be a stay at home mum and I feel very blessed that I have had the opportunity to fulfill that dream. Having the youngest start school has really hit me. I’m not ready to be “child-less” just yet. I don’t have a career to look forward to returning to. I don’t have great aspirations for what I’m going to do with all my “free time”.

Of course, my children will still need me. There’ll be sick days and school closure days. Not to mention school holidays. And Farmboy keeps reminding me that in actual fact, the school day isn’t really all that long and they’ll be coming home again before I know it.

I had a doctor’s appointment on Monday while Trailer Boy was at school for his first visit and sitting in the waiting room, struck up a conversation with an older mother.

“I had no trouble with sending mine off to school”, she said to me. “Wait until they leave home, that’s much harder”, she told me.

My heart broke a little.

Leave home? I don’t even want to think about that.

It’s so true isn’t it that the moment a child is born, they begin the process of “leaving the nest”.

It starts off with them being a separate being from your body. Then they wean from needing you for every feed. Before you know it they are mobile and don’t rely on you so much for getting around. *sigh*

I guess it’s all about the circle of life, isn’t it?

Not that that makes it any easier.

So, I’m about to make the move from “mother of preschoolers” to “mother of school age children”.

No idea what the future holds but like most things in life, I guess I’ll adapt and move on. What other choice is there?

PS: I was going to include a photograph of Trailer Boy in his school clothes but I’m too lazy to edit out the school name that’s all over the uniform so you’ll just have to put up with a picture-less post this time. He did look rather cute though and was so excited about starting school. When they go happily, it does make the transition so much easier. My heart broke for the mother whose child was kicking and screaming and not wanting to stay at school.

Nurses deal with this stuff every day. To them it’s just routine. But what about for the parents who have never had a child go into surgery? Routine? I don’t think so.

The sights and sounds around me are so unfamiliar as we begin our small procession to the operating theatre. The nurses are discussing their night life while I follow silently being. Hoping that my baby will know I’m there even though he can’t see or hear me.

It strikes me as ironic that we have to wheel his bed past the kitchen. All these patients that have been fasting for hours, passing by the sounds and smells of the hospital kitchen as they head off to theatre. Maybe food is the last thing on their mind? But that chicken sure does smell good.

More questions. Questions asked over and over. It feels like a test. Will I get the answers right? I’m on automatic pilot so I’m not even sure what the answers are. But somehow I manage to know and say yes and no in what I hope are all the right places.

Are you going into theatre with him? I must have nodded because they’re handing me blue things and a white gown. The nurse kindly helps me into the slippers and the gown but hands me the hat.

“Is that alright?” I ask the nearby nurse. She laughs. “You’re not supposed to look good in them”, she says to me. “Good?” my mind tries to process through the fog. I don’t think I was worried about looking good. I’ve never done this before. What if I put the hat on wrong and cause a problem in the theatre? Who wants to find out their own stray hair killed their child? There’s no mirror, I can’t see if my hair is all covered. I say nothing in response to her. What can I say? Does she realise that none of this is a joke?

He is shivering uncontrollably. The nurse brings a heated blanket to put over him. He makes a comment that I should do this for him at home when he’s cold. The warm blanket seems to help ease the shivering.

The doctor looks strangely familiar and yet unfamiliar at the same time. Is that even possible? I’m not really sure what she’s saying but I follow her and my baby past the green line that prohibits non authorised people.

The theatre doesn’t really look like those on TV. It’s smaller. And crowded. I can’t get far enough in the door to allow the automatic doors to close. I’m scared to move for fear of being in the wrong place.

My baby might be 10 but he looks so little as they transfer him onto the operating table. Why won’t they let me near him? I want to ask them where I can go but my mouth is so dry that words seem impossible.

He doesn’t want a needle. His biggest fear right now is pain. My biggest fear goes far beyond the pain. But I don’t let him see that.

The doctor sends me around the other side of the table. That’s better. Now I can touch him. He can see me. And his little eyes are pleading with me not to make him go through this.

I can’t cry. I have to be strong. I can’t let him see how I really feel. Everything is happening so fast. The doctors are talking. I can’t take it all in. They try to put a mask over his face. He doesn’t like it. Says he can’t breathe.

The anaesthetist has a quiet and soothing voice as he asks me questions about Lleyton’s involvement in football. He’s trying to distract him. Get him to relax. My heart almost stops as I watch the colour drain from his face, leaving him pale and almost lifeless. His eyes begin to flutter shut and my heart cries out, “please don’t let his last words be ‘I don’t want a needle’”. Horror stories of people not coming out of an anaesthetic rush through my mind. I try to push them away, focusing on what my child needs right now.

Before I know it, a nurse has ushered me from the room. Just before I go, the doctor tells me that they’ll still need to give him a needle. I remember nodding. At least I think I did. Back over the green line, the nurse takes my protective garments and pushes a button inside the lift.

“Do you remember where to go?” she asks me. I have no idea, glad that she’s at least pushed a button so I’ll make it to the right floor. She begins to give me instructions but I can’t take them in. “I’ll ask someone if I get lost”, I manage to utter. She steps back and the doors close. When they open, I see and smell the kitchen. A familiar mix of sound and smells. I know I’ve been here before.

As I walk, nothing looks familiar. I keep walking and spot a section of the hospital undergoing renovations. Thank God for renovations. I remember seeing them when we were first taken to Lleyton’s room. My heart silently pleads, “please still be there”. As we left, I told Farmboy to go and get himself something to eat. Now, I desperately hope he hasn’t.

He’s still there and the tears come in a rush. Was it really only 6 hours earlier that we were thinking our trip was likely to be a waste? The signs were all there that the problem was resolving itself and we fully expected the specialist to tell us our child was fine. Instead, she’s saying surgery and most likely he’ll lose an important part of his anatomy.

Those 6 hours had been surreal. Lleyton wanted to put off the surgery until another day. I had to stay strong and positive for him. Now I can finally let the tears come. None of this seems real or fair.

Farmboy holds me as I sob, relieved that I can finally let go and not try to hold it all together.

It’ll be okay. It HAS to be.

We pray and we talk. Before long, the doctor is there with good news. Everything is still alive and functional. The relief is immense.

I want to go to him but they tell me to wait. That they’ll bring him back as soon as he wakes.

What they didn’t count on was his shivering. He has to stay in recovery until it stops. It takes a number of warmed blankets to get it under control.

He sees me as his bed is wheeled back into his room. The tears well up in his eyes. “It hurts”, he tells me. It’s obvious he’s been trying to be strong but all he wants is mum.

I find out later that he was asking for me but they told him he had to get warm first. When he woke up there was a grey thing on his finger. The first thing he did was pull it off. The nurse immediately put it back and told him he had to leave it on. His poor mind was confused. They weren’t supposed to operate on his finger.

Should I have followed my instinct and gone to him? Would they have even let me in? What are simply moments to them felt like a lifetime to us while we waited. A lifetime to him when all he wanted was his mum. A child should have their mum in moments like these.

He wasn’t supposed to stay in overnight. A simple “day surgery” operation. At 9pm the nurse decides that perhaps they’ll keep him in overnight. He isn’t interested in eating and is quite tense. The pain seems greater than expected but perhaps that’s his own level of coping. It’s always hard to tell in these circumstances.

They bring me a fold up bed but I hardly sleep. It’s comfortable enough but the sounds of the hospital and the awareness of my child in the same room perhaps needing me make sleep hard to come. I lie there in tears, trying to work out how we’re going to get through the 6 hour drive home. Who do I turn to for help? Our GP is new - I don’t know if I can call and talk to him. If our old GP was still here, that’s what I would have done. The specialist has said we’re fine to go home. There’s nothing more she can do.

I try a pharmacy along our way. The assistant plies me with questions about his surgery. Queries why I don’t think the pain relief I’m buying will be enough. Does she have any idea how far we have to travel? How uncomfortable he is? How hard it is to put your child through the trip because really, there isn’t another option? I’ve had very little sleep, been through a heap of stress and just want some help. Why is help so hard to find?

---

Thank you for your kind words of support and prayers during our recent ordeal with our 10 year old (yeah, I refer to him as my “baby” because he’ll always be my “baby” - even though he’s also the eldest).We are home now. The trip wasn’t too bad for him. I did end up getting some Phenergen in the hope it would make him sleepy. He didn’t sleep but it did relax him which I think make the trip more pleasant.

It is good to be home. Much more comfortable to be in our own beds and Lleyton is well on the road to recovery. Given the sensitive nature of the problem and how public this blog is (Lleyton and his mates sometimes read it at school), I need to be careful how much information I put here. I have blogged about this with more detail on another of my blogs. I can’t link to it here (or it defeats the purpose) but if you’re familiar with my other blogs, you should be able to find it.

I slept until 2pm yesterday and spent the rest of the day pretty much brain-dead. Today I’m still tired and just taking it easy in the hope my body will recover as quickly as possible. It hasn’t really come at the easiest of times in terms of my coping, given I’m trying to withdraw from AD meds. However, I seem to be coping okay, other than the extreme tiredness.

I sometimes joke about the children of blogging mother’s needing some kind of support group to recover from the trauma of growing up in a “public” domain.

But in all seriousness, I’m kind of worried about those in the Big Brother House who have children.

Like Terence. What is the go there? How would you like to be one of his teenage son’s watching dad bare all (for those not in Australia - he has been shown on TV showering naked), make suggestive moves on a pole AND run around with his bathers (? I think that’s what they were supposed to be) shoved so far up his crack that they really didn’t cover ANYTHING.

Or Rhianna. Perhaps her child (I think it’s a daughter but I’m not sure now) is too young to watch Big Brother. Let’s hope so. With the whole world watching her on screen romance unfold (including night-time shots where she sleeps next to the bloke in question).

It was bad enough for me as a preacher’s kid, dealing with stories being told from the pulpit (which my parents eventually figured out was a BAD idea).

But national television???

I don’t want to trivialise child abuse in any way but I can’t help but feel like this kind of public behaviour could indeed be construed as abusive in a way. Or at the very least give a very poor example of acceptable behaviour!!!

What do you think? Am I being too harsh? Am I over thinking this? Would you, as a parent, subject yourself to national scrutiny by going on a show like Big Brother? And if you did, is there a line here where this becomes no longer “innocent fun” but rather “inappropriate parenting behaviour”?