My Kid and My Many Corsets

I find it funny that I still get messages and invitations from the various Gothic night clubs that I used to regularly haunt with my friends.  Most of my clubbing friends have trickled away over the last few years from when I became a Mum and I have found myself doing a lot of assessing and introspection.  It does amuse me some times when I think back and remember my days modeling alternative Gothic designers’ outfits on the catwalks. 

Once I would never have left the house without Gothic, Punk, Mod or Rockabilly makeup on and dressed accordingly.  These days I am lucky to have even a skerrick of foundation on.  I think the last time that I wore a corset (I think I own at least 5 or 6) would be perhaps two to three years ago.  Maybe even it was at my Wedding where I wore a leopard print corset which I had made up by an expert especially for the day.  I had two different sized red petticoats and made by myself two leopard print full circle skirts, a knee length one for the ceremony and a short one for the reception which was held at a Gothic nightclub owned by people I used to once know.

So this could sound to be very distressing and hint that I may have ‘let myself go’ but I think it has a lot to do with being comfortable within one’s own skin.  I can still dress to the max but at this point there is no reason to because I just don’t go out to those kind of places any more.  I am so content to stay at home and look after my little one.  I am comfortable knowing that I have had a wild time of it when I was supposed to, living life with a little daringdoo and now it is time for my little one to grow and take me for granted as his Mummie.  I’ve probably said this many times before but it does beg repeating, I think perhaps that this is being comfortable with aging and definitely having met my purpose.

I am not saying that all the party and daringdoo has gone from me but I am saying that for now, I want my son to feel that he is my priority.  My Husband feels the same way and that amuses me as well.  He was a Punk rocker in an outrageous band in the 1980’s but today, Pixel is his whole world.

I do intend to get back to applying basic make up though; nothing too scary just yet, except of course when it comes time for Halloween!

Nicky Knackie Knackers!

We often go to the Red Star Café and it is a bit of a ritual.  It is near to Pixel’s kinder and whilst he is at Kinder, I would sit at the café and study, study, study.  Pixel was aware that I would go there and would ask for chinos too.  I sometimes would get a take away for him which he would polish off at the end of kinder or we would go there after Kinder together for a treat.  He loves those biscuits in the jars that are placed temptingly at the front of the counter like at most cafes and one biscuit is almost as big as his head.

One day Pixel and I met his Aunt (of the broken leg infamy) and his Nanna for lunch.   It is a great café for boys as it has rockets, stars, planets, a giant train and a uni-motor bike as decorations.  There are also a lot of small things to look at.  Beside our table was a tiny cupboard with knick knacks in it.  I made the mistake of saying knicky knackie noo.

Pixel thought this was great and stood by the door yelling out knicky knackie noos at the top of his voice at the Red Star.  Most people at the café thankfully were charmed.  I suppose nowadays people are just happy that a kid isn’t swearing.  Pixel came back and then pointed out that the little cupboard behind us was empty.  He decided to call it knicky knacky nothing!  All fun at the café. 

Yet here’s how these little nothing moments of charm leap up and bite you later.  The next day, his Dad warned Pixel to be careful of his knackers as he was carelessly leaping into his trousers, to which Pixel replied without missing a beat, “Knickie Knackie Knackers!”

Micky Cow, Wendy WhearHol and John Yeannan

Pixel has become a fan of the Velvet Underground.  Of course he is still a mad about The BeaTles, Bowie, The Buzzcops, Alice Cooper, The Vampire Lovers, and so on but he is going through his discovery phase with the Velvets and loving them. 

Early in the year, somehow, John Lennon (Yeannan) became his imaginary friend.  It would go something like this, “John is sitting in the chair.”

“ Oh is he?”

“Yeah, John Yeannan” and he would point to the chair next to him.

Then it turned into Pixel being John Lennon.  He would march up and down the corridor and then say, “John is walking.”  (walking, jumping, sitting, and so on).  I figured that given Liam Gallager had trod this path as a grown man, Pixel perhaps should have got it out of his system by adulthood. 

He also went through a Buzzcops (Buzzcocks) phase where he had to wear his leather jacket, even in the heat and have it zipped all the way up and put his hands in his pockets – just like the lead singer.  I was thankful when that phase became less intense.

Last year of course was mostly the year of Micky Cow.  This was a character that Pixel invented for David Bowie based on his lyrics.  Pixel needed to wear blue to be Micky Cow and had Bowie’s moves down pat.  He even made me do a photoshoot with my mobile phone camera as he posed for me.  He would pose, then say “Mum, take the photo” and I would. I have to say they came out pretty well too.  I have no idea where this behaviour came from and could only think he was posing for his future album cover. 

Later in the year he pushed my hair upward and called me Mummie Cow.  His Daddy said “Hang on, that’s pretty harsh.”  I had to remind him that it was a complement as it all came from Micky Cow.

His Velvet Underground phase has introduced him to Andy Warhol.  It is lovely that he accepts so many things at face value.  He calls him Wendy WhearHol as it is much easier to say.  I hope that he says that , even just once, when he is at art college!

Countless hours of pleasure kids can give, can’t they? 

One morning he was a little irritable and I said you are very grumpy today and he said to me, “I am making the grumpy.”  Awwwwww

In term 2, one of his kinder teachers thought he was hilarious one day when he fell over on the path and hurt his hand.  Rather than cry, which would be expected, he jumped up and held out his hand and yelled, “It’s ruined!”  Sometimes I think he is a crazed scientist in the making or a lead singer like his Dad, either way, he certainly has a flair for the dramatics.

A few weeks back I kissed him and my nose bumped his eye and he said accusingly, “you broke my eye.  It’s broken!”  What can I say but sigh?  I have a big nose, what can I do?

So many funny things that he says, I want to try and remember them all and write them down for prosperity.  Precious little moments that are very soon gone and lost in the charge forward to grow, grow, grow!

Little Gems in the Desert

My sister has had the great misfortune of breaking her leg.  It is a nasty break and she has been housebound for so long that she gets a little bit of cabin fever now and again.  She broke it out here, in rural Australia on her property near to mine and has not been able to get back to the city let alone go back there for work. 

It has been and still is really horrible for her but it has been quite good for Pixel and me.  We can drop by whenever we like because she can not possibly go anywhere.  Pixel is loving his wheel chair rides – they call the wheel chair Thunderbird 13.  What is a grave misfortune, has been quite the gem for us.  Pixel has been able to bond even more closely with his Auntie and of course Nanna is always there looking after his Aunt so he has her at his disposal also.

Pixel now knows all about hospital and broken legs being fixed but more importantly, he knows that his Aunt and Nanna can not escape from the house.

Always a positive in a negative or a little gem in the desert….

So what exactly does TV do?

When I became a Mother I found that nurses, doctors, experts, other Mothers and so on would all parrot the latest research findings to me like they were quoting dogma.  Having not grown up with dogmas, I am fortunate to have a healthy skepticism when it comes to life and its goings on.   

I recall that when I was pregnant with Pixel, I saw a report on the news which stated that TV and other media such as computers were detrimental to children younger than three and that the French had put this notice on to all children’s videos.  I thought at the time that this was pretty serious stuff but hardly difficult to prevent a toddler from watching TV until after the age of three.

I had also learned that language is pathed in a child’s brain whilst still a forming baby in the womb and that by the age of three, if they are not exposed to alternative languages, that it would be much more difficult for the child to learn and retain other languages.

So this takes me to my dilemma of a few years back.  I desperately wanted Pixel to learn German for three reasons.  One was that his Omie and Opie would have loved to speak to him in German, being German themselves.  Reason two was that of course Pixel’s Father’s entire heritage is German and I wanted him to maintain a connection with his heritage.  Reason three is that I spoke very basic German that I had struggled so hard to learn so I thought that I could at least teach Pixel some words if not the correct sentences.

My solution was to make the most of this baby sponge time and ignore the warnings about TV.  This came about when I met with my Mother Care Nurse and the topic of TV came up.  Of course out came the diatribe so I stopped her and asked, “what does it do?”

The answer was not what I was expecting.  She told me that researchers had found that it impeded the child’s imagination.  “So that’s it?  That’s all it does?”  I asked and was given a very solemn affirmative.

“For goodness sakes,” I thought.  “That’s just crazy!” 

Having worked for a stint at a University in the Research Grants Office Department, I knew that not all research was true and at times, what was considered fact one day, was often overturned after the next study is completed.  For goodness sake Dr Spock had to appolgise to an entire generation of children (mine) and make huge adjustments to his techniques. 

Anyway I gave a rather glib comment along the lines of it perhaps being rather a good thing if it did manage to do that given that both of Pixel’s parents were dreamers.  We were the sorts that spent school days staring out the window, dreaming of more interesting things.  Needless to say, I did not believe this warning and I exposed my child to German programmes which have had a lasting effect.

Pixel has been exposed to fluent German speaking way beyond my capabilities.  We use words and phrases that I can manage and I expect that it will stay with him.  To this day he has only heard Tellie Tubbies in German. 

My opinion is, do not expose children to too much TV or other media devices ie computers just as they should not be over exposed to any thing.  Do not allow them to watch unattended and be interactive and reinforce with them what they are learning.

I will have to wait and see if there are any consequences but he has to me proven that he has an enormous imagination with every pen in the house being appropriated into rocket service and the like.  He also invents his own stories to go along with ambient music and so forth so somehow, I am just not too worried.

To PVC or Not to PVC that is the question Horatio ?

Well it has been three years and today, I actually put on one of my PVC pair of trousers.

It came about all of a sudden and was totally uncontrived.  I was cold, we live on a mountain, I needed to wear trousers, jeans create muffin tops and I wanted dignity and warmth that stockings would not provide.  Suddenly, there they were right before me – why hadn’t I worn them before now?  The black, PVC trousers!  Now I don’t care what anyone else tells you, having a baby changes ones figure for good.  The reason why these trousers were so appealing all of a sudden was exactly why they were slightly daggy when I used to have my figure; they had a stretchy panel!

Huzzah!  I could look cool, Goth and be warm and comfortable all at the same time. 

The phrase, “how the mighty have fallen” rattled around my head for a short while but hey, after three years of being a Mum and needing to wear trousers under my dresses due to crawling on the floor with my child (often in public), I thought I would cut myself some slack.

Yeah, it worked.  So I say, manufacturers, why don’t you just make more PVC clothing with stretchy panels for us old Goths to keep up the dream?

Ch..ch..ch…chAnges

Never having been one for swearing, I didn’t have to modify my speech until I remembered that I have a penchant for blasphemy when my Pixel began saying very loudly “Oh my GOD!”

To cap that off, he became obsessed with rockets when he hit the two year mark.  They were on an equal par with diggers until his Daddy showed him the Thunderbirds on youtube; rockets have won out ever since. 

All going well and learning to live with a child who dropped the “Oh my God” phrase every now and again, things started to really unravel when he began to yell at churches when we would drive past.  It was along the lines of “Rocket, blast off!”  I feel somewhat liberated that I attended a Methodist College rather than a Catholic College as I am sure that by this stage I would have been feeling that horrible guilt that seems to go around.  Happily for me, I felt bemused but thought I should put things right.  Not wanting to be negative and use the dreaded negative word, no, I would say something like, “Yes tower rockets.”  I thought we would get to the word spire later in life. 

Unfortunately to a two year old, tower rockets seemed to translate to a type of rocket so this became a new phrase he would yell out at churches passing by and anything with a tower/spire for that matter.

What can you do?  I really think the innocence of children has to prevail.  They mean no harm and life is so exciting and amazing that we must look at it through their eyes so that we may live fully ourselves. 

That being said, I find it much easier to modify my blasphemy and revert to a lot of phrases such as “Gosh, darn it”! “Good gracious!” and that old chestnut, “Blast!”