One of my amusements during the holiday season is people-watching.  Particularly in situations where crowds, lines and captive children are the norm, amusement is easy to find.

During a Wednesday-before-Thanksgiving swing through a local grocery, I landed behind a child and his mother in the checkout line.  The boy might have been three or four, and he was fussy.  Hanging on to his mother’s skirt, he circled around and around until he found safety, tucked between her and the cart.  Turning to look past us to the vibrant displays of merchandise across the aisle, he pointed to something, tugging on her skirt to gain attention.  Busy sorting through her purse, his mother ignored him – a mistake she would come to regret.

The boy began tugging with both hands, demanding her attention as “fussy” transformed itself into ”cantankerous”. Finally pushed over the edge by parental insensitivity, he began to wail with rage and frustration.  He was tired. He wanted to go home. He especially didn’t want to be waiting in line while his mother sorted through coupons and double checked lists. As his outraged protest grew louder and more high-pitched, his obviously embarassed and distraught mother tried her best to reason with her monosyllabic son.

“Do you want to ride in the cart?” she asked.   No, he did not want to ride in the cart.  “Do you want to look at your book?”   No, he did not.  “Do you want me to spank you?”  “No”.  “Do you want to go to your room when we get home?”  ”No.”

In desperation, his mother looked at the overflowing grocery cart and asked, “Do you want a cookie?”   “NO!’, he shouted.  Obviously startled by an unexpected response, his mother asked again, “Are you sure you don’t want a cookie?”  “NO!!!”  Suddenly, his mom stopped. Looking at her boy she asked, “Do you know what I just asked you?”   “NOOOO!!!” came the reply, as he re-buried his face into her skirt.

Funny as the little drama was for those of us who were watching, uncomfortable and embarassing as it obviously was for his mother, what made it most astonishing was the intensity of the child’s “No”.  Caught up in the sheer, perverse pleasure of negativity, his ”No” had become more important to him than even a cookie.

Unfortunately, the instinctive response of a child can become the habit of an adult.  Looking around, it isn’t hard to find the nay-sayers among us.  Petulant, obnoxious, pessimistic and filled with cynicism, their entire raison d‘être appears to be shouting “NO!” into the face of life.  Offered the hand of friendship, the challenges of collegiality, the possibility of intimacy, their response is to cling ever more tightly to their rejection of every overture, every gesture of conciliation.

Tiresome and exhausting in personal relationships, negativity becomes corrosive and even toxic on a social level.  When whole groups begin saying “no” to one another, more than feelings get hurt. Society becomes segmented. Fear begins to erode acceptance. Selfishness appears, together with its unhappy twin, power-hunger.  From urban alleyways to the halls of Congress, from boardrooms to lecture halls, we increasingly are confronted by the spectacle of enraged, petulant children shouting “No” – albeit with the unhappy addition of adult strength and power.  These “Nos” can kill, or reshape lives without regard for consequence.

Knowing all this, and understanding full well the power of negativity to erode, consume and destroy, I prefer the folly of optimism – a willingness to believe, despite an abundance of evidence to the contrary, that humanity at heart is good, that joy is possible,  and that no matter how broken, trust can be rebuilt. To paraphrase Faulkner’s famous words, I chose  to believe humanity not only will endure the shouts of “no” we call history, but that it will prevail over that history by the “yes” of courageous human hearts.

Is such optimism naive?  Has faith in humanity become outdated?  Have the cruelty, ridicule and small-mindedness of the schoolyard made dignity, perseverance and grace irrelevant?  Faced with such questions, it becomes my turn to speak a “no”, to affirm human decency and the possibility of grace and to align myself once again with a poet of my roots.  Let the naysayers of the world rant on. Carl Sandburg knows the people, and he knows the people’s ‘Yes”. 

The people yes
The people will live on.
The learning and blundering people will live on.
    They will be tricked and sold and again sold
And go back to the nourishing earth for rootholds,
    The people so peculiar in renewal and comeback,
    You can’t laugh off their capacity to take it…

The people so often sleepy, weary, enigmatic,
is a vast huddle with many units saying:
    “I earn my living.
    I make enough to get by
    and it takes all my time.
    If I had more time
    I could do more for myself
    and maybe for others.
    I could read and study
    and talk things over
    and find out about things.
    It takes time.
    I wish I had the time.”…

Between the finite limitations of the five senses
and the endless yearnings of man for the beyond
the people hold to the humdrum bidding of work and food
while reaching out when it comes their way
for lights beyond the prison of the five senses,
for keepsakes lasting beyond any hunger or death.
    This reaching is alive.
The panderers and liars have violated and smutted it.
    Yet this reaching is alive yet
    for lights and keepsakes.

    The people know the salt of the sea
    and the strength of the winds
    lashing the corners of the earth.
    The people take the earth
    as a tomb of rest and a cradle of hope.
    Who else speaks for the Family of Man?
    They are in tune and step
    with constellations of universal law.
    The people is a polychrome,
    a spectrum and a prism
    held in a moving monolith,
    a console organ of changing themes,
    a clavilux of color poems
    wherein the sea offers fog
    and the fog moves off in rain
    and the labrador sunset shortens
    to a nocturne of clear stars
    serene over the shot spray
    of northern lights.

    The steel mill sky is alive.
    The fire breaks white and zigzag
    shot on a gun-metal gloaming.
    Man is a long time coming.
    Man will yet win.
    Brother may yet line up with brother:

This old anvil laughs at many broken hammers.
    There are men who can’t be bought.
    The fireborn are at home in fire.
    The stars make no noise,
    You can’t hinder the wind from blowing.
    Time is a great teacher.
    Who can live without hope?

In the darkness with a great bundle of grief
    the people march.
In the night, and overhead a shovel of stars for keeps, the people
march:
    “Where to? what next?” 

Comments are welcome.  To leave a comment or respond, please click below.

K9N6ECV2E5TY

This wasn’t taken at the supermarket but I think it sums up how I was feeling 2 hours ago.

I cleaned my fridge today and realised once I had thrown away the lettuce I planed to make Cesar salad with and the zucchini I planned to make into a pasta bake and some very old squashed brown and blue brie, my fridge was in fact bare….

I hesitated wondering if at all possible I could avoid going to a supermarket until Saturday morning, would it be ok to not have any Fresh juice? Would it be OK not to have any bin liners. would it be ok not to feed my children until then? My guilty conscience took over and I decided we HAD to go. I am currently refusing to shop at Tescos, it’s all a bit political and I don’t want to get into it unless I get really hacked off or more than 5 people comment and ask me why. I hate the local sainsburys it’s full of people with Croydon Facelifts and people with words like “Innit” in their vocabulary and I get pissed off just being near them. Hello if you are from Croydon, still with me?

Off we went to the only place where I think I can cope. Waitrose it’s full of the elderly and middle aged I love it, they talk to the kids and they walk slowly meaning I can charge around them at 30 miles an hour throwing things into my trolley which I keep, keep calling a stroller. I also have fast track which means I scan my own shopping bag it and leave. no Queues.

Eliza proceeded to touch every single item as I selected a cucumber I saw her throwing red peppers from one basket into the other. I shot a look a round me and exclaimed what are you doing? “NUFFINK” Well that’s good I said. Then she touched something else and I got “a look” so I crouched down and said “If you don’t start to behave I shall get the manager of the shop to talk to you” she looked like this

Good… Jerry started to ask for a “cuggle” and proceeded to lunge his head into me. I grabbed some strawberries and then I heard a dreadful smash. I knew straight away it was my little scanner thingy. I ignored it while I picked my strawberries. I turned around to a member of staff holding it. “Oh thank you I said” and she said “shall I put this in your trolley?” “no thanks I need it as, you know I’m shopping” “these cost  two thousand pounds” she said to me. I had a vision of clubbing her in the head with it, I was willing for my child to burn his retinas out with that and now you are telling me not to let him as it cost two thousand pounds. OK fair enough. Jerry throws HUGE tantrum and I have to them finish the rest of my shopping with a out of control 17 month old in my arms.

Next time I will let the kids starve it’s gotta be better than shopping with them.

I jest we also have takeaway.

Dear Sabres,

You’re grounded.  More on this later.

Dear Craig Rivet,

You’re fired.  At least until one of your teammates makes me want to fire him more.

Dear Blackhawks,

You guys are being awesome as usual and Huet is making the Sharks look like guppies and I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU GUYS SCORED THREE SHORTHANDED GOALS IN A ROW and Patrick Sharp wants to remind me why I love him but it is impossible for me to enjoy this game to the degree I should because the Sabres are assholes who forgot how to score goals.  I know this is unfair to you, and I’m sorry.

SEVEN????? You guys are so much fun.  But the Sabres still suck.

Santa, Santa, Santa…where do I begin?  This guy is like a rock star in my house, well, at least to my munchkin he is.  I’m not sure why she has such an incredible fascination with him.  She has watched ‘The Polar Express’ religiously since birth, becoming deeply distressed if I put the movie away at the end of the holidays.  I hate to admit it, but I’m actually considering enrolling her in a 12-step program after Christmas this year to wean her off of it. 

Previously, as the holiday season drew closer and closer last year, amidst the joy and merriment, my daughter, a then three year-old, had mastered the fine art of ‘the temper tantrum’.  I, on the other hand, had acquired a phenomenal talent of jumping to immediate, irrational conclusions about my child.  For example, her temporary boycott of vegetables and meat.  My conclusions, “Great, she’s never going to grow.  I’m raising a midget”  Everyone else?  “She’ll come back to those foods.  Children’s palettes change.”  Hellooo?  With the exception of chocolate, my palette changes! 

This time was no different.  While everyone around, even strangers, offered words of disapproving encouragement like, “How old is she two?  Oh, she’s three?  You know that behavior begins at two—it’s just a phase.  She’ll grow out of it.”

“Really?” I used to think, “When?  When I’m ninety, driven to senility and on respirator?” 

I had begun to worry incessantly that they were all idiots and this was no phase, but rather a part of her personality.  While I realized that the likelihood of my daughter being in a corporate meeting at the age of thirty, in a suit, with her hair quaffed and throwing herself down on the floor, kicking and screaming was unlikely.  I could actually see her doing it!  By this time I had witnessed this “phase” so frequently that I considered carrying a tranquilizer gun in my purse, similar to parents who carry epipens to save their children’s lives.  Except mine would be with express instructions to shoot her once and me twice, to spare me and anyone else who might possibly be enduring the behavior. 

In my efforts, I was constantly trying to curb anything that would actually bring the tantrums on, while still trying to hold my own.  Doing things I’d practiced in my parenting class, like offering two choices, “Would you like pancakes or peanut-butter toast for breakfast?”  Tantrum.  Rephrase the question, “Would you like Skittles or M&Ms for breakfast?” 

“Would you like to wear jeans or a dress today?”  Tantrum.  Rephrase, “Would you like to run through the streets naked or wear pajamas for the rest of your life?”

And of course, “Would you like to sleep in your bed or your princess tent tonight?”  Tantrum.  Rephrase, “Would you like to sleep in mommy’s bed and I’ll sleep in the garage in my own tent?”

With all my efforts, there didn’t seem to be an end in sight.  When your fantasy vacation has derailed to the point where you’re begging for a padded room and a cocktail, specifically, one that must be prescribed, it’s time to reformulate your position.  Now, I never really know when I’m going to get a stroke of genius, but occasionally it happens, well, sort of…

This particular, December morning, after offering several ‘two choice questions’ with no success, I stood watching my daughter lying on the kitchen floor screaming and flailing, when I had one such stroke of genius.  Picking up my cell phone I discreetly hit our home number, muted the mobile and slid it into my pocket.  As the home phone began ringing, I carried on in my usual way, “You need to settle down.  I’ve got to get the phone.  Stop it, honey.  I can’t hear.”  And I answered it.

“Hello?” I said.

“Santa?” I clarified in shock, which had all of the effects I had imagined would occur if I were allowed to carry the tranquilizer gun I’d dreamed of…immediate, complete calm.  As I heard the snowflakes falling and watched the colors become brighter with my two imaginary shots, I knew I had finally made contact.  Her little lids were drawn back so far I could see the toddler wheels turning in her small head.  THIS WAS BIG.

“You can see this?” pause, “I know.  I know,” I said nodding in concern.

“Hmmm, I understand.  You want me to ask her to stop doing this?  Well, I can try,” I said, acting hesitant.

“Santa wants to know if you’re going to stop this or if he’s shouldn’t bring your presents this year?” I asked.  She nodded so diligently I hoped she was resetting her brain to ‘Be a Normal Person Mode’.

“Should I just tell him to not come by the house for Christmas?”  I asked her, double checking.  She answered ‘no’ by shaking her head, still unable to speak since a real celebrity was on the phone.

“Okay, Santa?  Yeah, she said she’s going to be a good girl.  She’s going to stop whining and crying all the time.  No, I think you can definitely bring the presents,” I said feeling clever in my pseudo-reply.

Then, out of nowhere, my daughter miraculously picked herself up off the floor, came out of her trance and began to speak, “Hand me the phone I want to talk to him,” she said holding out her pudgy, little hand. 

Are you kidding me?  As I began a desperate mental search for a shovel to begin digging my own grave, my heart flat lined. 

“Mom-my, let me talk to San-ta!” she insisted.

I was so sick and tired, and tired and sick of my life flashing before my eyes with this kid I wanted to take both phones and start hitting myself over the head with them alternately.  Where does she get this from?  When I was a kid, if Santa had called my house because I was being naughty, I would have never asked to talk to him, let alone wanted to!  Geez!  I was scared of the guy!  He was judge and jury in my book and I didn’t care how ‘jolly’ he was supposed to be!  Every photo that existed of me with Santa as a child had me screaming and crying to get away from the man.  When I’d finally reached a point where they couldn’t make me see him anymore, all the pictures were of my brother flying solo, holding two candy canes because my mom and dad insisted he cover for me.  I didn’t care if ‘Old Saint Nick’ knew what I wanted for Christmas—that guy could put the final nail in your coffin!  Game over!  What was wrong with the kids now anyway?  What did she think she was going to say?  What?  Was she planning on reporting me?  I didn’t care…Santa wasn’t the boss of me anymore!

As I looked down at her big eyes filled with tremendous hope at speaking with what I equated to the third spirit visiting Ebenezer Scrooge, I let Santa end the call.  Agreeing that we would visit him before Christmas at the local mall to report and I would check in from time to time as well.

Looking back, to the credit of everyone who said it was “a phase”, they were right.  It was as if one day, the spell was broken exactly like the princesses my daughter dreams of, and she really did flip the switch to ‘Be a Normal Person Mode’.  I don’t miss having to bizarrely pretend that I was deaf and blind every time my ‘two choice questions’ weren’t what she had in mind.  And for me, well, my little gamble worked through the holiday season, buying me enough time to recoup before we had to begin strategic talks for her birthday! 

Soooo, “You better watch out…you better not cry…’cause Santa Claus is coming to town!!!”

Usually I am a pretty affectionate, physical person with the people that I care about.  I am careful about who I hug as I know that some people are not as physical and that is ok.  The last little while, I have been feeling clausttophobic.  Miss Pumpkin has been marking her territory (namely my lap and ear) in order to teach her younger sister Miss Heddy the natural pecking order of our house.  This is fine, except that Miss Heddy HAS to be in my arms/lap as I am breastfeeding and she, like the rest of her family, likes food.  The result – one baby on the nipple and a toddler on my ear.  I can’t tell the one on the nipple to scram which means the toddler has been hearing it.  This of course, has meant that Miss Pumpkin is even more insistent that she needs to be in my lap AND holding my ear AND of course dancing, singing or whatever activity in which she is presently engaged.  In fact, Miss Pumpkin has been asking for my ear A LOT and at the oddest of times; putting her in her carseat for example.  I am sure that you can understand why my ear would be unavailable to her while I drove – she,however, did not.

The ear pulling has been Miss Pumpkin’s thing since she could grab on to it.  As far as I can understand, the ear pulling provides her comfort and stability.  It as though she needs a physical connection to a person who loves her.  This is fine and usually I am ok with it, except that I have been feeling the need for more physical space.  This, combined with my being dsistracted with the unexpected death of Ryan’s grandma,a trip to Thunder Bay and before that simply adjusting to life with two children under 3, meant that I didn’t pick up her signals.  I think Miss Pumpking is feeling overwhelmed and when she has reached out to the person who is supposed to be her stable place, me, she has been getting told “not now, no, later, stop…”  Hmmm, I wonder why her behaviour has been so out of control lately.  This morning she actually hit me.  That was enough to make me stop and reflect.

Now, I did not cause her to hit me, she chose to hit me but I did teach her being physical with someone is an ok way to get them to do what you want.  You see, along with the pushing her away, there have been a number of times that I have grabbed on to her and tried to force her to look at me, or get off the floor etc…  Each time, I have felt uncomfortable but instead of stopping and checking in with myself I have continued.  It never ends well, in fact it never has really ended.  We have just moved from one crisis to the next (exacerbated by a lack of sleep for all of us).  My frustration with the last interaction, simmers inside,  ready to burble up at the slightest provocation; while my mantra has become “bad mum, bad mum.”  I haven’t been very loving or forgiving with myself, even though I know I can’t be truly gentle or loving with others if I am not being gentle with me.  Meanwhile, Miss Pumpkin has become frustrated as I haven’t been listening to her.  She has been reaching out for comfort and too often has been rebuffed.  (She has also been asking to watch TV more.  Is there a connection?)

This family has been on a roller coaster ride for 8 months.  We spent every day for almost a month with dad in the hospital/hospice, been at 2 graveside ceremonies, I went on bed rest, added Miss Heddy to our family, hosted grandma and grandda’, Ryan went back to work after being off for summer, flew to Thunder Bay and stayed at grandma and grandda’s not child friendly house and met a bunch of new people. I have been feeling overwhelmed and off centred, no wonder the 2 year old might be feeling the need for stability.

I can’t change life but I can change how I deal with it and therefore how my family deals with it.  I have been impatient with myself that I am not more patient, in the moment and loving and the result is that I haven’t been the parent/person I want to be.

So here I am.  Ready to listen to what I am feeling, ready to hear what my family is saying and doing so with mindfulness and love.

Dear Sabres,

What the fuck was that????  Why didn’t you listen to me?  Are you all hungover?  Kaletters – I thought you’d grown up.  Oh my God.  I hate you guys.  My only consolation right now is thinking about how much Lindy’s going to yell at you tomorrow.

This wouldn’t have happened if they’d played Toni LIKE THEY SAID HE WOULD EARLIER TODAY (probably)

Argh!!

Me

Dear Mike Grier’s Groin,

Please get better NOW.  They need him out there.

Today’s Reflection Topic: Tantrums

It was a Friday night and since daddy was gone again I wanted to treat my three boys to something special.  So I offered to take them and the baby to Walmart to buy a new movie that we all could stay up and watch instead of sticking to their usual bedtime routine.  This was not at all a usual thing for us to do.  They were so excited and all was well until we reached the checkout when  I made “the mistake”.   I told them they could pick out a candy to watch with the movie- but they could only pick one that they would share.  They all agreed on M&M’s and so my three year old handed my two year old the bag to hold.

 I stood at the checkout trying to keep my two month old daughter who was in a carrier on my chest from starting to cry- and that’s when my three boys started.  My two-year old in the shopping cart let out a deafening scream over the bag being taken from his hands by his three-year old brother.  My three-year old screams when I say he can’t hold it and that it needs to go in the bag.  He then proceeds to have a total meltdown over my threat to put the candy back.  My five-year old meanwhile is trying to negotiate with me about how late he can stay up and is not distracted in his pleading amidst the chaos.  I could feel everyone around us starting to stare.

 I wondered what they were thinking. I thought, “They probably think that I have spoiled my kids rotten.  It’s almost 8:00 pm and most young children are in bed by now.  Yet here I am buying movies for my kids as they scream about their candy. All I wanted to do was spend some quality time with them.   I must look like the worst parent ever.”

 That’s when I did something I had never really done when in similar situations.  I took a deep breath and looked right at the people staring at us and smiled. Not a fake smile but a genuine smile. Sure I was not pleased with their behavior.  I could have gotten mad, threatened louder and punished on the spot- put on a grand show for all to see- but no.  I just smiled at my onlookers.  They seemed to look puzzled at my reaction. 

 Something beautiful had occurred to me- “Whatever their thoughts, it does not matter.”  I wanted to tell them, “These are my kids.  Sure they are having a bad moment- and perhaps this is the only moment that you will ever see them. But unlike you- I have seen them at their best moments.  I have seen what you have not.  You only see them in this moment and in this small fragment of time you have passed your judgments on them and on me.  You see them as rotten and stand waiting to see their reproof.  You question my parenting and think you could do a better job. Truth be told, you would not be willing in this moment to adopt them if someone offered you a million dollars, but I on the other hand,  am honored that they are my kids.  I would pay a million dollars a million times because I love them. I know their heart and who they truly are.  That is how I can stand here smiling when they appear their worst, because I know before the day is done I will see them at their best.”

 I paid and put all my stuff in the cart- leaving out the m&m’s.  On our way towards I actually debated over it in my mind- I thought about just putting on any shelf on the way out but then I thought that I did not want to waste the money I had spent.  Hey, I’m a mother of four and after all $1.06 is $1.06 you know!  Yet I knew it was what had to be done so heading toward the door I told my children, “We just made a contribution to Walmart,” and I put the paid for candy on a shelf.   Sure they were mad but I felt a peace.  They knew they didn’t deserve it. 

 They soon settled down after we were in the parking lot and even apologized.  I told them I forgave them.  I wished those people who were staring in the store could see them at that moment.   I rationalized that I spent $1.06 for a valuable lesson on appropriate behavior. 

 But here was the great part.  When I got home I looked at the receipt and the candy was on sale- I had paid only 25 cents for it.  That may sound silly but I knew that it was God’s way of telling me “good choice, you did a good job.”  God knew it was all going to happen.  He had the price covered, and he was pleased by my choice to sacrifice what was not important for what was.

 And here is the awesome part- as I wrote this I felt the Lord saying, “The way you saw your children at the checkout- that is the way I see you. You are mine.  Sure you have bad moments but I have seen you in your best moments.  I have seen what others have not.  Some have seen you in your worst moments- in a small fragment of time- and have cast their judgments on you.  They saw you in a moment of weakness, and considered you worthy of reproof, but they judged you wrongly as they do me. I am slow to anger and quick to forgive.   I know your worth and you are precious to me. . I knew you would sin, and I knew what the price of your sins would be, that is exactly why I came.   I paid for you with my own blood because I love you. I know your heart and who you truly are. I long to be with you because I created you.   I am not shaken when you act your worst. I delight in you in the midst of your struggles because I have already won your victory and I know your future.    I will continue forgiving you as you continue seeking me and one day I will see you in all your glory.  They may have seen you at your worst for a moment, but I have seen you at your best.

 It brings me to tears.  I am no better than my children.  I have moments when I behave horribly.  I’ve made the same ugly mistakes over and over.  Thank God that he does not see me for my worst.  He sees me for my best.

Helpful Tip: Next time your children are acting up while your checking out at a register (or anywhere else in public)think about the last time you threw a tantrum.  Try to look past your child’s actions and reflect on your child’s heart.  Thank God that He does for you.

Perhaps you could even use the seemingly miserable to talk to others about God.  Share your insight with the cashier and those around you.  Leave them something to reflect on every time they have a cranky kid at their register.

Psalm 73:2, 22-28

² But as for me, my feet had almost stumbled, my steps had nearly slipped.

²³Nevertheless, I am continually with you;
   you hold my right hand.
²⁴You guide me with your counsel,
   and afterward you will receive me to glory.
²⁵ Whom have I in heaven but you?
   And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.
²⁶ My flesh and my heart may fail,
   but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

²⁷For behold, those who are far from you shall perish;
   you put an end to everyone who is unfaithful to you.
²⁸But for me it is good to be near God;
   I have made the Lord GOD my refuge,
   that I may tell of all your works.”

For the first four hours, many people seemed to want Fermez La Bouche to fermez its bouche (French for ‘shut its mouth’). Those who read the list of headlining acts for the inaugural festival at the Evelyn would have jumped at the chance to pay $15 for 17 bands. Tic Toc Tokyo, The Parking Lot Experiments, Cuba Is Japan – the crème of the unsigned Melbourne crop. So everyone was a little surprised that the first eight odd acts were nothing short of what is affectionately referred to as ‘screamo’.

Bands such as Wind Rises Electric, In Tongues, Terrordactyl and Cast & Crew gave us the standard Alexisonfire fare, whereas some other outfits gave us same strange, err, outfits. The bassist of Dreaming of Ghosts, Kyle Murdoch, reminded us that while we were getting pissed in the middle of the day on Brunswick Street, many thousands more were getting pissed in the middle of the day at the Caulfield Cup. Wearing a corduroy maroon ankle length dress and a turquoise pin box hat, he provided ample amusement when the power surged, leaving their set in silence. And with lyrics like ‘I want to infect you with my disease/I want to kill you when I sneeze’, how could you not want to hear more? In contrast, Sydney’s Gay Paris resembled what Tool what sound like if they were Amish butter churners. Give the man some beard clippers and a throat lozenge.

Thank god for East Brunswick All Girls Choir, who stepped in at sun down to calm our ringing ears. With Tame Impala-esque bass riffs, and Marcus Hobb’s unique twangy vocals, we settled in for what now looked to be a cruisey night.

Wrong. Then Keith Party commandeered the stage. Launching themselves from the crowd as DJ Fletch started spinning, there was not one, nor two, but ten erratic would-be rappers hurling themselves on stage. If you haven’t seen Keith Party before, this review can never do justice what happens on stage. It’s like you’ve just walked into a drug fuelled party where everyone knows the words and the choreography to every song. They fling glow sticks and streamers into the crowd, swap the three microphones dozens of times during a song, and by the end, were literally hanging upside down from the rafters at the Evelyn. There’s not a terrible amount of talent here, but fuck, they’re fun.

Best newcomer award has to go to Ships Piano [pictured], the quartet of danceable noise-pop who look suspiciously underage. Despite having a Brit-Pop feel, they sound unabashedly Australian. Think Bloc Party or Art Brut jamming in the bush with twangy guitars. They already had the biggest crowd of the night when they started, but by the end of the set, there was not a square inch of space left to tap your feet in. People from the street, lured by their slick yet harsh vocals, filed in to see what the fuss was about. And you should to – they’re one of those bands to see now so in a year’s time you can say you saw them before they were cool.

With My Disco playing at the Forum on the same night, Pets With Pets made sure that no one felt like they were missing out. Bringing some much needed electro minimalism to the stage, they had many transfixed. There was a slow-mo strobe light, rolling drums, endless synth loops, and animal noises. However, as good as the first few minutes of the set were, when the same few minutes were still playing ten minutes later, it started to grate a little. The chicken noises were replaced by horse noises, replaced by sheep noises, replaced by cow noises. It was like an exorcism on McDonald’s farm.

Despite being relative unknowns,Tantrums’ experimental psychedelia was given one of the prime time slots. And for good reason. This is one of those bands that you accidentally stumble upon, because everyone wants to keep them as their own little secret. Well the secret is out: Tantrums are phenomenal. They comprise of vocalist/guitarist/casioist/awesomeist Jade McInally, Sarah Phelan looking after all things digital, and the slightly psychotic Nicolaas Oogjes on everything from drums to trumpet to guttural screeching. They have an amazing control over rhythm and thus mood – you feel as if you’re watching genius unfold. Songs seem to evolve out of nowhere, layering and looping and twirling and weaving in and out of your mind.

The aural orgasm continued with Cuba Is Japan playing on the adjoining stage. Without a doubt, they produce some of the most beautiful music in Melbourne. Roses adorned the microphone stands, they laid out giant Persian rugs on the floor, and encouraged people to sit down to watch. The set opened with Cameron Potts sitting on the carpet, lamenting on his violin, with Darcy Pimblett simultaneously playing a comically large marching band drum and comically small finger cymbals. Bianca Poitevin and James Heenan rounded out on guitar and keys respectively as the audience slipped into an awestruck spell. They mix folk with ambient electronica and orchestral instruments – “Is this post-modernist?” whispered someone close by. Mix locals Your Animal with Bill Callahan’s Smog and you might get close. But even then, to pin Cuba Is Japan down would be a sin.

The Japanese theme continued with Tic Toc Tokyo taking stage. It was reassuring to see that the brilliant trumpeter/drummer/yodeller from Tantrums had snuck onstage, albeit with a different shirt, to play for the second time that night. However, that was where the good times stopped, showing that it doesn’t matter how brilliant one member is, it takes an entire band to produce good music. Exuding ego from tune up, many people started to jump boat over to the smaller stage, where some pretty raucous noise was emitting. Alas, with a diminishing crowd and a so-so experimental rock set, we swapped stages.

Pushed off the main stage, and forced to play in the claustrophobic side stage, The Parking Lot Experiments felt like you were watching your neighbours play a killer set in their garage. A quasi-heckler from the crowd summed it up – “HEY! You guys are shit! But you’re actually really good!” With almost teste-pop vocals from baby-faced Dave Connor, band members sitting on random side stage objects, and a fun, wholesome vibe, it was the perfect way to end the night.

Fermez La Bouche didn’t shut its mouth at all – in fact, it spoke quite clearly for all of Melbourne’s underground artists. Screamo to folk, electronic to orchestral, Brit-pop to psychedelic, all walks of life were representing, showcasing just how diverse our music scene can be.

This review of Fermez La Bouche appeared on Fasterlouder on October 20th, 2009, written by porgiepie.

The rise of the festival in the 2000s is arguably due to the fact that people are too fucking lazy to go and see bands any more. Generally, it’s been good news for large promoters, good news for office-working types who get to rationalise their gig-going by seeing all the bands that they’ve been told are cool in one place at one time, and not such good news for people trying to put on little local gigs.

However, there has been one unforseen benefit – the rise of indie equivalents like Mistletone’s seasonal parties and May’s era-defining Hold Hands! show, which have brought a heap of like-minded locals together for some spectacular days of music. This show is another example, dragging the next wave of local indie acts kicking and screaming from warehouse parties in the depths of Brunswick and collecting them across two stages at the Evelyn.

Headlining are resurgent dark angular types Tic Toc Tokyo, and other highlights indie man-about-town Cameron Potts’ widescreen new project Cuba Is Japan, the neo-grunge angst of East Brunswick All Girls Choir (who, yes, are neither all girls nor a choir), narco-electro outfit Tantrums and the curious post-hardcore crooning of Sydneysiders Gay Paris. And Keith! Party, who in Inpress’s opinion are the best thing to happen to the moribund world of Aussie hip hop in ages. All in all there’s 17 bands for $12, so you can’t really go wrong, can you?

Fermez La Bouche was awarded Inpress Gig of the Week on October 14, 2009.

Artwork by Michael Cusack.

InPress Gig of the Week.

ALBION presents Fermez La Bouche on October 17 at the Evelyn, Fitzroy.

Taking its name from the French turn of phrase for “shut your mouth”, Fermez La Bouche spreads across two stages and boasts a line-up that any Melbournian would be proud of. Fermez La Bouche is a celebration of the local independent music scene (with the added exception of a band from Sydney).

Playing at this festivious event and spanning over two stages is 19 brand new, newish, but all-incredible bands doing their bit to make Melbourne the lush, creative and innovative musical landscape we all know and love.

Starring the most superlative and astounding bands from Melbourne that we could think of: Tic Toc Tokyo, Cuba Is Japan, Tantrums, Pets With Pets, The Parking Lot Experiments, Keith Party, Terrordactyl, East Brunswick All Girls Choir, Gay Paris (from SYDNEY), Psuche, In Tongues, Parading, Fievel, The Sharks They Bite, Ships Piano, Breaker Morant, Cast & Crew, The Wind Rises Electric and Dreaming Of Ghosts. Guest DJs will play for your joyous entertainment before, in between and after bands including DJ Post Percy and Matt Kulesza plus more TBC.

You’re probably thinking how much is this awesome Fermez La Bouche event? Well, you’ll be happy to know that we’ve decided to sell it to the public for $12+bf. That means that even the struggling students among you will be able to come and party.

Tickets on sale 9am, Monday, 24 August via www.moshtix.com.au.

This press release was issued on August 19, 2009 for Fermez La Bouche.

Active listening

I thought I had a post somewhere on basic active listening.  It seems not.

Active listening is often required when we least expect it

Active listening isn’t hard.  Provided we remember to do it!  When we are needed to listen, simply listen, we are often in a rush ourselves and it is the hardest ever to slow down and pay attention.

Three situations require active listening

There are three classical situations when we must pay attention and listen

• Requests: Please may I have .   .  .!
• Help:  Everything is going wrong!
• Anger:  Life is unfair!

We rarely miss anger!

The third, anger, is the one we don’t miss.  Angry people get in our face.  They are bristling with rage.  They want something to change now and they’ve decided that it is all our fault!  Can’t miss it

It can be hard to react with applomb

Sadly, because other people’s anger often takes us by surprise, we don’t react well.

If we have a moment to catch our breath, we are probably OK.  We give the person the attention they crave so desperately and reassure them of their importance in the world.  They calm down and feeling a little sheepish, become our new best friend.

But what of our anger. What we we are angry?

It strikes me that England is an angry country.  And people enjoy being angry.

Anger in Britain is a treasured state

Anger in England isn’t an unpleasant temporary state that people want to get away from. It is a treasured state to be sought.  People even seem to feel important when they are angry.  “There!”, they seem to be saying, “I am angry too!” It is almost as if their status is restored by being angry.

I get angry so that I can be important enough to be insulted?

It’s a perversion.  Usually we are angry when our status is diminished, and we want it restored.  When an angry person also has a triumphant gleam in their eye, I wonder whether they are also delighted to have found a situation where they are important enough to have been insulted?

Someone needs some deep respect

If I am right, and there is no reason that I should be, then a way to reduce anger is to help people feel valued.  Courtesy and politeness do this in part – but they avoid “dissing” the other person.  Courtesy and politeness isn’t respect.

If we want to help people find status without resorting to some bizarre form of tantrums, then we need to take the trouble to find out what about them is deeply valuable to us ~ and tell them.  I found a great quotation from E E Cummings yesterday ~ we have to mirror to people what is so wonderful and why we would be so much poorer without them!

Extreme experiments in life

Try that as you are next on a commuter train and your neighbour is annoying you.  Pay them some attention. Yes, I know you are English, but try.  It will be a fun experiment, won’t it?

What will happen when you pick on the one point that is so important to them and that you would really miss if they weren’t part of your life?

So first week of school for Peanut, predictably, meant first week of the worst freaking tantrums since the dawn of time. (Not seriously. He’s a low tantrum dude. But on *his* Richter scale, this weekend was off the f–ing charts.)

We had him screaming in the supermarket, knocking down boxes of Top Ramen. We had him running full tilt through the freezer aisle and opening every door, just before I caught him and flung him over my shoulder kicking and screaming to make a speedy exit. We had him whining and sobbing and yelling at us, really yelling, with every single Lego piece that did not obey the laws of physics and geometry on whatever planet this non-Euclidean, non-Newtonian kid lives on. We had a day, basically, of “I will help you when you can treat me respectfully, but I will not stay in the same room with that voice,” all day, both days. And we had him yelling at my sweet little 94-year-old grandmother, on my birthday, that she was not allowed to talk to me, only *he* can talk to me.

Clean up! Aisle Six! Some lady is sobbing about something or other, and her puddle of tears is activating the Top Ramen secret flavor packets.

I knew we’d pay dearly for the first week of preschool. I know it’s a lot of change and his world is upside down (shut up, Drs. Sears, he’s in a co-op where I’m there and everything is all child-directed, for a grand total of three hours a day thrice a week, so don’t tell me from upside down world until you’ve lived with a highly spirited intense opinionated way-too-smart kid for three and a half years, and then I’ll show you upside down world) so he needs an emotional outlet. But must *I* be the outlet? Holy Freaking Meltdown of the Social Order, Batman, we need a tranquilizer dart from Babies R Us.

Upside of the whole insane weekend of terror, though? My mom watched the new person formerly known as Peanut for an evening in which Spouse and I saw a real, actual film on a screen and had a real, actual meal at a quiet restaurant. As in feature film rated something I didn’t have to check because who cares? and menu without crayons.

More important, uproariously funny Clooney and MacGregor flick at which the rest of the audience politely tittered and I laughed so hard and so loudly that people glared at me. Dumbest movie I’ve seen in years and absolutely pants-wettingly funny. See it. The Men Who Stare at Goats. I think. I don’t care. The title’s not important. When you see it, email me about the “what are the quotes for?” line. And the sparkle eyes scene. It’ll make me wet more pants. And I only have, like, two pair that fit right now, so what a laundry honor that will be.

And even more important, we found a fabulous restaurant I’ve never tried, in whose menu I was very pleased, and with whose policy of offering wine by the bottle, glass, or 2 ounce taste I was thrilled. Because a “taste” of wine is totally under the radar of *every* hyper-vigilant American obstetrician I’ve ever met or read. No, not a sip, and not a glass. A technical, measured, duly noted on the receipt, “taste.” Spicy syrah. Lovely. From what I tasted.

Did I mention George Clooney and Ewan MacGregor? Nobody laughed but me. And you know how much i don’t care that other people on the planet are too dumb to get good jokes?

Today was not much easier with Peanut, but he slept a full nap and I had a huge pot of homemade chili at my elbow as I thought about and refused to the the 20 really pressing things on my to-do list. And instead started a new book that pleases me GREATLY.

And you know what? Volcanic bullshit from my kid on a day where I get a few hours with Spouse, and whiny exhausting understandable but unbearable nonsense from my kid on a day where I have freshly made chili and a new book is totally a good weekend. Because his bullshit is, as of today, no longer going to be my bullshit. It will be my atmosphere and my backdrop and my full time g.d. job, but I’m gonna do my best not to breathe it in and let it rattle me. Cuz, dammit, I have George Clooney and chili and twelve choices of bruschetta and Ewan MacGregor and a new book, y’all.

Ewan MacGregor.

Terrible twos that is.

Little miss can be such a sweet, cuddly, angel. Then, something takes over. Wow, tantrums are NOT fun. And she seems to LOVE them.  I am not taking her out to each or shopping until she is 10!

By Kelly Mahan Jaramillo, Nov. 15th, 2009

I admit it, I fell into the knee-jerk reaction that everybody else did when the Health Care Bill passed the house.  The Stupak Amendment had me in a blinding uproar, and now that I have settled down, my basic faith that our Presidential vote was a good  one is back.  Thank God. I was about to have a heart attack, and this would have been my third.  I think three is all you are allowed before you have to stay down.

I would like to take this time to re-post from Jeanne Devon, a political writer in Alaska, where President Obama just visited, a small paragraph she wrote.

Could we all read this and focus on what President Obama has accomplished in his ten months in office and not react so crazily when everything is not going our way, can we stop having tantrums that we don’t get to have dessert before dinner, can we stop acting like spoiled little two year olds?  And I count myself at the head of the above ridiculous screaming babies.

From Jeanne Devon, below:

With all the issues swirling around health care and Afghanistan and a host of other issues that frustrate us, let’s take a moment to think back on the first 10 months of the Obama administration, and recall the major legislation that has been passed.

January 29: Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act

February 4: Children’s Health Insurance Reauthorization Act

February 11: DTV Delay Act

February 17: American Recovery and Reinvestment Act

March 30: Omnibus Public Lands Management Act of 2009

April 21: Edward M. Kennedy Serve America Act

May 20: Fraud Enforcement and Recovery Act

May 20: Helping Families Save Their Homes Act of 2009

May 22: Credit Card Accountability, Responsibility, and Disclosure Act of 2009

June 22: Family Smoking Prevention and Tobacco Control Act

August 6: Cash For Clunkers Extension Act

October 22: Veterans Health Care Budget Reform and Transparency Act

October 28: Matthew Shepard and James Byrd Jr. Hate Crimes Prevention Act

October 30: Ryan White HIV/AIDS Treatment Extension Act

November 6: Worker, Homeownership, and Business Assistance Act of 2009

And let us not forget the nomination and approval of Judge Sonya Sotomayor to the Supreme Court, and the fact that he does not say nookular.

AND let’s not forget that the administration before this one was busy doing things like vetoing stem cell research, authorizing The Patriot Act, and No Child Left Behind, torpedoing our economy, lying us in to a war, and a whole lot of other stuff we’d rather forget about. Perspective and reflection are good things.

Thank you, Jeanne.

Now, c’mon, gang, if I can calm down, I know you can, too.

Today was Turd-Boy’s school’s celebration called Shichi-Go-San.  Bascially, it’s meant to celebrate children at ages seven, five and three.  You can find a nice description of the Shichi-Go-San Festival on the OkinawaHai website.

Today, in honor of Shichi-Go-San I dressed Turd in his finest.  Well, I had to buy him an outfit to be appropriate enough because he dresses up just as much as Paul and I.  NEVER!  Look at this mini-man!

Clearly, he is tired of the camera.

How freakin’ cute is that child?  I couldn’t resist this outfit!  The day I bought it, I brought him home from school and I made him try it on.  Kicking and screaming that is.  He came home in one of his moods.  And by moods, I mean he was fricken crabby as all get out!  So to make matters worse, I put the whole thing on him including the shoes.

Some casual kicks because I refused to buy patent leather shoes.

How adorable is this little tie?

Some serious thought for my totally un-serious 3 year old boy.

First shot out of the camera. Now why couldn't the next 15 minutes go as well as this one?

Hmmm, maybe a Kool Aid commercial. Look at my cheese head.

The cover of GQ er, I mean Teen Bop er, I mean Parent's Magazine?!

And here’s my favorite pic of the day!Here I had just told him that I love him and Thanks for being such a good model this morning.  And he said, “I love you too, Momma!”

What a sweet little boy.  This morning anyway.  This evening he was fortunately, still sweet.  But it had a weird and goofy twist to it.  I will never be able to explain, you will just have to experience it all for yourself!