Firstly A huge shout out to the peeps that responded to my mail, Its always great to get a reply, even if its just two words.
I was told by sooooommmee People that my last letter was boring and depressing.
So l apologize in advance and reverse if you got / get that feeling.
In my defence, (and I can do that because this my letter) We are gaanning aan here on the island, the bright shiny new things, are becoming same old same old, and, it’s not all bells and whistles, but have you ever seen a magazine sell sad stories?
Nope.
I’m approaching a year here on this rock and I suppose I would need to do a summary in my next letter. Well. That’s the next letter, what about today’s letter.
It’s a bit mish mash as per usual, but at least there are no jokes about how crappy Renaults are.
Having spent a lot of time in my headspace I have come up with more questions than answers.
Sure I have solved one or two of life’s mysteries, and read a book or two, but there are still questions.
This is not a bad thing, in fact, in my spare time, I’m training myself to become a supreme master solitaire / minesweeper champ.
One of the thoughts that I’m bouncing around in my head at the moment is “Teenagers”
I’m sure that there will be people here that may have these same pressing questions.
How do you live with a teenager?
How does the population continue to expand when faced with teenagers?
How do parents get past this stage and still love their offspring?
How do you do this without losing your mind?
Here, on the Island, the youth seem to think that the world owes them for breathing air and eating food.
Don’t get me wrong there are kids out there (very few) that don’t believe that. They are the ones that keep us holding onto the hope for the future of this country. The rest of these little shits should be pushed into the harbor.
How is it that, you can walk into a shop, pick up anything you like, then walk up to a self-checkout counter, pay and leave. You can sit on a beach and enjoy the open spaces and the view. You can even go camping for FREE in the outback, but you can’t get a well-mannered kid that doesn’t have a chip on their shoulder, or a decent haircut.
Being an Island parent is not easy. I’ve seen with my own eyes, on more than one occasion, a little five year old oxygen thief throw their toys out the cot, and the parent trying in vain to negotiate with it. Yes you read that correctly “negotiate” !!!!!!!
It’s more difficult when you come from a different country where its “ok” to “blicksem” a kid because they think they are clever. I foolishly thought that being a South African that we were immune to the potential onslaught of laziness and long hair brought on by a system that believes that kids need to have their asses wiped for them until they are 25.
Well I was wrong. So wrong that I hang my head in shame. It took my offspring approximately 6 months to show cracks at the seams and to let this foul beast infect their ability to realize that they are still kids, and we are still the parents.
“Was I Like this?”
“Was my sister like this?”
I know wonder woman was never like this….. she is perfect……in every way…….. Wink, wink, Nudge, Nudge. (just in-case she is reading this)
Sure, maybe it’s not only the Island where this happens. Maybe it’s not only my kids, maybe it’s their age, I suppose, to a point, I could even live with the long hair……...
Being a first-time parent I have no reference on how to handle teenagers… I mean I remember being a teenager, I was not part of the “cool” group. I remember waiting in line to use public telephone. And I remember when beer was R20 for a case. But I don’t remember ever being this difficult.
What is a parent supposed to do with this eating, sleeping, non-conversational, hormone fuelled, constant mirror checking and flexing, wise cracking, sloth?
When I hit that age, I was at boarding school. I saw my parents about once a month, to stock up on food, have my washing done, and sleep in my own bed.
Their biggest worry was a crusty sock and what time I would be back from playing 18 holes of golf.
In boarding school I had a system around me that worked on a bell. I did not need to think. We functioned like Pavlov’s dog
BBBRRRRRRRIIIIINNNGGGGGGGGGGgggggggg……. Get up.
BBBRRRRRRRIIIIINNNGGGGGGGGGGgggggggg…… eat breakfast,
BBBRRRRRRRIIIIINNNGGGGGGGGGGgggggggg go to school.
BBBRRRRRRRIIIIINNNGGGGGGGGGGgggggggg…. Eat lunch…..
BBBRRRRRRRIIIIINNNGGGGGGGGGGgggggggg go to sport.
BBBRRRRRRRIIIIINNNGGGGGGGGGGgggggggg eat dinner….
BBBRRRRRRRIIIIINNNGGGGGGGGGGgggggggg do homework
BBBRRRRRRRIIIIINNNGGGGGGGGGGgggggggg go to bed.
Rinse and repeat. Year in and year out. It was simple, and I loved it.
If I thought I was clever or I stood out of line I had someone around to help me remember that I was not that clever and how to tow the line. Nothing like a quick clip around the ear or a quick six with a cane of your choosing to help with attitude, cleverness, tardiness and back chatting.
Fast-forward 20 years and life is clearly tough for these beings. They can barely walk upright. They need to use the edge of the table like a seesaw for their arms to get their food to their mouths. Apparently walls in a house are not to hold up a roof, nooooooooo we need a wall hold onto with dirty hands to turn corners. Even after breakfast is lovingly made every morning, Trenticles and Spiderpig this week alone have both been late for school!!!And school starts at 9:00…….All of a sudden sending them back to Jeppie is starting to look like a good option.
Does anybody have any advice?
Topic: Australia.... The Island Saga (Read 18383 times)
