Piercing pain!

Is it just me or does everyone think parents do their kids no favours when they teach them to flout authority?

On TV this morning, a mother in Brisbane was whinging because her teenage daughter was asked to take out a nose stud before returning to her private school.

The mother is outraged, claiming her daughter is being discriminated against by the school and that she should be allowed to express herself in anyway she sees fit.

For my money it’s a big leap to claim a nose ring is creative expression, it’s actually just a piece of jewellery. That aside, the school says she can’t wear it and therefore, I say, she should suck it up. When you’re a kid, sometimes a teacher or a boss or your parent is going to tell you to do something you might not like. And you know what? You should just do it.

When YOU’RE an adult you can change the rules if you like, but they’re the stripes you have to earn.

Parents who want to fight for their kid’s right to break the rules frustrate the hell out of me.

My sister is a teacher and believe me, parents who won’t accept school rules or help enforce them make a teachers life hell. More alarmingly, they cause disruptions throughout the day for other students too…and that makes for a crap learning environment for every kid, not just the ones fighting the good fight for face jewellery.

I’m not saying kids don’t have rights…of course they do. If the nose piercing club wants to go to the student council and get a petition together and argue the merits of nose piercing to get the school rule changed, good luck to them. But when a mother goes on TV to fight for her child’s right to break the rules, she’s just setting her kid up for a lifetime of confrontation.


From: Lisa Rowe
Sent: Wednesday, 31 January 2007 8:57 AM
To: Caroline Hutchinson
Subject: Women like her make me absolutely furious !@!!

I just had to vent .. watching her on Sunrise this morning I was yelling at the tele .. "oh get a life you stupid cow!!".

I can't stand pathetic self absorbed cows like that who CHOOSE send their kids to a school that states the rules loudly and clearly and then bitches and moans (any excuse to get her head on tele) about how the rules are unfair!

Well intentioned people are out there fighting for REAL causes ... fighting for the poor, the down trodden, the dying, those who can't get an education in third world countries where children don't have food or clothes or water!!, fighting to survive deadly diseases like cancer .. and this cow picks this "fight".

The poor kid's too stupid to know how ridiculously self absorbed her idiot mother is ... and she's being ostracised and forced to change schools because of it ... MAKES ME FURIOUS!!!! Just had to vent and was to cowardly to call..

And off to high school....

Is it just me or does everyone think the teenage years are pretty tough?

My middle child, Milli, starts high school today. And she’s nervous, poor baby, not much sleep last night. But that’s our Mill, she’s a bit of a worrier.

In my book, is it just me, I’ve written a piece for all kids going to high school...here is an editted version!


Regarding the rumour that some bully is planning to flush your head down the toilet? It’s a lie. Mama reckons people were threatening the royal flush way back when she went to high school. It didn’t happen then, and it probably won’t happen to you either.

Don’t worry about feeling geeky. Deep down, every single person in high school is worried about the fact they might be exposed for the nerd they really are. Even the cool kids.

Brands do not maketh the man – or woman. If a kid is dressed in labels from head to toe then he’s lucky…but it doesn’t make him the king.

If the kid next to the brand man has parents more interested in paying for school fees and tutors, don’t be too quick to judge. When the Best and Less kid grows up he’ll probably have a great job and be able to buy all the cool gear he wants. It’s the Bill Gates theory, be nice to nerds, chances are you’ll end up working for one.

In the same way, the year 8 cheer leader doesn’t necessarily win either. This is a marathon not a sprint. It doesn’t matter who seems the most popular in year 8. Making lasting friendships will get you a hell of a lot further and trust me, in matters of the heart, nice girls do finish first.

Never forget your parents are your friends. We might seem boring and uncool when we’re yelling at you or not sympathising with your need for another trip to Supre…but without exception we are absolutely always trying to do the right thing by you.


And finally, be proud of you! No matter who you are, if you’re off to high school today remember there’s going to be heaps of familiar faces and maybe even a few new kids who just can’t wait to meet you…

First day....

Is it just me or does everyone think the day your baby goes to school for the first time is one of the sadder days in the life of a parent?

40 thousand kids across Queensland will go to school for the first time today. It’s a bigger than normal number because of the new prep year.

This morning, at MIX FM we've sent Angie out in the road runner to the Carney household in Landsborough, where five year old Isabou is off to school.

Isabou is the youngest of six children…

There’s 15 year old Dylan, Liam who’s 13 they both go to Maleny High. 11 year old Mitchell, Daniel 9, Eilish 6 and Mummy’s baby Isabou who’s five are all going to Glenview State School.

Apparently little Isabou isn’t incredibly keen, she’s enjoyed being at home with Mummy.

I remember when Jemima first went to school, I was hopeless. All the other year one Mum's went out for coffee, but I couldn't do it, I was balling my eyes out and had to go home to watch Dora the Explorer on my own without my little shadow...

And Jemima wasn’t much better..

That night, as I put her to bed all hollow eyed after her first big day in the wide world she said something along the lines of ‘that’s enough school now Mummy….' She’d been. She'd had a look, met the kids, checked out the teacher….and decided she’d probably just stay at home from now on…

I gently explained that no, she was a big girl now and that day had been the start of the rest of her life. And believe me I was feeling her pain. 12 years is a long time away from Mummy…


So that’s where Claire and Isabou are this morning…and maybe 40 thousand other Mum’s across Queensland...

Shark? Shark?

Is it just me or is everyone in denial over sharks on the sunshine coast?

I have spent a lot of time swimming in deep water off the coast. It’s my favourite place to be in the whole wide world, where the water is clean and clear and completely black beneath you.

I’ve never seen a shark, not one that would eat you anyway and I have a bizarre conviction that it’s not the way I’m going to die (I’m thinking more cancer or car accident…fyi) I don’t know if you can have those sort of premonitions, but I am convinced I won’t die in a shark attack….

My conviction is even more bizarre, given that I actually know two people who have been eaten by sharks.

A boy I went to school with in Margaret River, David Weir, became a professional fisherman. He was two years older than me, and I hadn’t seen him for many years, but when we were in our early twenties he was taken while diving from a tinny at Augusta, I think. No one was there to witness the event, but they found his remains later, so there was no doubt how he had died.

John and I also had a young next door neighbour in Geraldton, who left to go diving off Exmouth up north…the next we heard was that he had been taken too.

I think it would be a terrible way to die, like the abalone diver at Eden yesterday, it seems that sharks like to taste you first, just a little nibble, then come back in to finish the job.

So are there any sharks on the Sunshine Coast? When I was training for Mudjimba to Mooloolaba swim in 2002 an Alex Surf Club stalwart told me I had nothing to worry about. He said the last time Alex had been shut for a shark sighting was in the sixties, and it turned out to be a big palm frond.

That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it!

Still a caravan park kid!

Is it just me or does everyone think the beach front council caravan parks are one of the few things we have left from days gone by?

The Sunshine Coast is changing right before our eyes and there’s lots of good attached to that change.

But time and time again, the residents of the Sunshine Coast state loud and clear that we do not want to morph into the Gold Coast.

We like being a place for families, we don’t like it too sleek and shiny.

Our council run caravan parks, by that read community owned caravan parks, are one of the few things cash poor residents might be able to save.

I will never forget, once when I was in a new high rise on the Mooloolaba beach front (I was there checking them out because the developer wanted to advertise them on the radio) and as we looked over the lovely vans with their neat little annexes and happy families enjoying a lazy holiday on the water front, the salesman said to me “The sooner we get rid of those caravan parks the better! People paying good money for a waterfront apartment shouldn’t have to look down on that….”

I grew up in a caravan park. I probably should have told him that before I pushed him off the balcony.

It’s not over for the parks, not by a long shot. It’s true that the two Mooloolaba parks are refusing to take new bookings for next Christmas, council says they’re just following due process, waiting for the report on the future of the Mooloolaba spit to be released….

Mayor Joe Natoli says he is a long term supporter of the caravan parks and that he believes 70 to 80 per cent of his constituents feel the same. Surely that’s all the government needs to know!

However, we must remain vigilant. Time and time again we fall into the trap of waiting until the “authorities” say it’s the right time to speak up, and miss the boat altogether.

So if you are interested in preserving a 60 year old piece of Sunshine Coast history, contact your local councillor, and make sure your voice is heard.

Be the change!

Is it just me or does everyone believe that Ghandi was right…we have to be the change we want to see in the world?

I stole that line, by the way, yesterday I helped launch ‘It takes all kinds’ a campaign to attract at least 40 new foster carers on the Sunshine Coast…

We are desperately short of foster carers, desperately short.

Tonight in Queensland, 6200 children will spend the night out of their homes, because for some reason, they are not safe in their own beds. 6200. And that number, tragically, is growing all the time.

I stole the Ghandi line from Matt Lupi from the Department of Child Safety, he also talked about how for most kids, when people who hurt them are prosecuted, it’s largely irrelevant to the child. It doesn’t even begin to heal their wounds. What is relevant to abused children, is how they are treated after the event, who steps in to fill the breach.

When I was very young I used to go out with a boy who had a foster sister. Emily was nine and while her Mum loved her, she was a druggie…and whenever she went on a bender, Emily went to Matthew’s house.

Sometimes Emily would just spend Saturday morning cooking cakes with Matthew’s lovely hippy Mum, sometimes she’d call in the middle of the night because she was home alone or her Mum was passed out. And sometimes, happily, they didn’t see her for ages.

I don’t think I understood it at first. I used to harrass Matthew with questions…why don’t you adopt Emily?…How can your parents let her go back…? Don’t you miss her when she’s not here?

But I get it now. Matthew’s Mum and Dad showed perfect love by providing Emily with exactly what she needed. Emily had a mother who loved her, they were just the support crew.

And it doesn’t matter who you are, there’s a kid on the sunshine coast who needs you too.

Think about it, it doesn’t matter if you’re old or young, single, married, divorced, black, white, rich, poor, gay or straight. If you are a good parent or you think you’d make a good parent, trust me, there is a kid waiting for you to change their future.

For more information call Integrated Family and Youth Service (go on - do it!) 54 38 3000

How aussie are ya?

Is it just me or does everyone think we need to preserve whatever it is that makes us Australian?

In the 1980's I think we went through a dangerous cultural cringe. I know I did. I thought everything about Australia was embarrassing, I threw away my thongs and embraced English music and magazines. My Dad used to deliberately say things like Bonza and Drongo just to watch me roll my eyes.

I don’t know exactly when, but I came back. And I love everything that sets us apart from the rest of the world.

These days, probably my most used phrase is ‘no worries’. Strangely, I'm still not good at 'g’day' I have to say, I love it when someone says it to me, but I always say it in a sort of embarrassing way…more sort of good day… I need to go to g'day school!

I’m happy to say though, a survey has been released claiming Australianisms are some of the most common words used in Australia.

Number one on the list of Aussie expressions is "No worries'', with 79 per cent of people surveyed by newspoll saying they use it fairly regularly.

Other favourites include "Good on ya'', "I reckon'' and "She'll be right''.

There are some expressions that only the older folk use - apparently ‘fair dinkum'' and "too right'' are becoming outdated and favoured by those aged over 50. I love those two, so fair dinkum, I’m going to make sure I use them more often. Too right I am.

Apparently those under 34 have adopted phrases such as `"no worries", "How's it goin'?'' and "mate''.

Then there's "whad'ya reckon'', "bloody oath'', and I don’t actually know that many people who say "strewth'', "rack off'' or "flamin' galah''…but my Dad did, so good on ya!

Who's packing your parachute?

Is it just me or does everyone need to take more notice of who is packing their parachute?

If you're wondering what I'm talking about, this is the story of Charles Plumb, a US Navy jet pilot in Vietnam. After 75 combat missions, Charles Plumb's plane was destroyed by a surface to air missile. Plumb ejected and parachuted into enemy hands.

He was captured and spent 6 years in a communist Vietnamese prison. He survived the ordeal and now lectures on lessons learned from that experience.

One day, Charles Plumb says, ....

I was sitting in a restaurant in Kansas City. A man about two tables away kept looking at me. I didn't recognize him. A few minutes into our meal he stood up and walked over to my table, looked down at me, pointed his finger in my face and said, "You're Captain Plumb."

I looked up and I said, "Yes sir, I'm Captain Plumb."He said, "You flew jet fighters in Vietnam. You were on the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk. You were shot down. You parachuted into enemy hands and spent six years as a prisoner of war."

I said, "How in the world did you know all that?"He replied, "Because, I packed your parachute."

I was speechless. I staggered to my feet and held out a very grateful hand of thanks. This guy came up with just the proper words. He grabbed my hand, he pumped my arm and said, "I guess it worked."

"Yes sir, indeed it did", I said, "and I must tell you I've said a lot of prayers of thanks for your nimble fingers, but I never thought I'd have the opportunity to express my gratitude in person."

I didn't get much sleep that night. I kept thinking about that man. I kept wondering what he might have looked like in a Navy uniform - a Dixie cup hat, a bib in the back and bell bottom trousers. I wondered how many times I might have passed him on board the Kitty Hawk.

I wondered how many times I might have seen him and not even said "good morning", "how are you", or anything because, you see, I was a fighter pilot and he was just a sailor.

How many hours did he spend on that long wooden table in the bowels of that ship weaving the shrouds and folding the silks of those chutes? I could have cared less...until one day my parachute came along and he packed it for me.

So the philosophical question here is this: How's your parachute packing coming along? Who looks to you for strength in times of need?

And perhaps, more importantly, who are the special people in your life who provide you the encouragement you need when the chips are down? Perhaps it's time right now to give those people a call and thank them for packing your chute.

More gratuitous posting of praise!

----- Original Message -----
From: lucy morris
To: hutch@hotkey.net.au
Sent: Wednesday, January 10, 2007 11:08 AM
Subject: Is it just me?


Is it just me or does everyone around here seriously need a copy of this collection of columns?

Hey Caroline,

I have just finished reading your book.. and considering I was given it for christmas and have been in Canada where my days are spent skiing, in the hot tub, watching gilmore girls, playing cards, family feuds and sleeping, that is code for I could not tear myself away from it.

It is hilariously brilliant in a way that reminds me of Bridget Jones' honest humour, so if the Australian version of helen fielding doesn't send request for a movie based on your life then she obviously doesn't know what's good for her!

Although I have no plans to become a mother in the immediate future (17 just doesn't seem to me as the right age), I will keep a note to self to make sure that I keep your book for the moments when I may need some reassurance!

The comment made about the girl with the t-shirt claiming 'Barbie is a Slut'.. here, here! Poor Ken indeed. And the column on Oscar's death definately bought on some teary eyes; we've all been there.

So thanks for some laughs, tears and suggestions for the future!

Hope everything is going well,
Lucy Morris (kate's daughter!)

To which, I responded....

Wow Lucy! Thank you so much for your amazing email!!! I don't usually expect to hit the 17 year old market...seriously...I expect nothing LESS than a Gilmore Girls marathon at your age - I only wish I was there to watch it with you (skiing/hot tub/family feuds - these are a few of my favourite things!)

In a desperate attempt to sell more books, I am actually going to post your email on my website - tragic...I know, but like I said, I don't normally hear from funny, articulate, mature, insightful, beautiful 17 year olds (I am paying for the copy right on your email with flattery...in case you didn't get it!)

But if you want to see the post...go to isitjustme.com.au

Have a great holiday, and seriously, thank you so much for taking the time to write...

Love Caroline

Summer loving!

Hi - I am trying to get this published in the Australian's Summer Loving section...in the hope of flogging more books!!!

In the unlikely event I actually get it published, you can say you read it first....

Is it just me or will it forever be the summer of 1985 in your heart too?

I suspect I was a 3am girl. You know us, we’re the friend. Smiley and obliging, a shoulder to cry on, fun, fat and unfailingly available at 3am.

Late in 1984 I turned 16. It was the last summer my family all lived together at home, in the house behind the shop at our Mum and Dad’s caravan park in Margaret River.

A caravan park in a coastal town is the greatest gift two parents can give their teenage daughter. Friday nights were my favourite. Weekend warriors arriving en masse, Escort vans with boards stacked on top, Sandman’s that smelled of musty blankets and boardwax. All those boys smiling at the girl whose Dad owned the park. Exactly what it would take to score a site close to the barbeques?

My best friends were Marnie and Susan. Marnie was our bait, Susan and I kept each other company ‘til 3am.

Every morning, as soon as the rubbish run was over and Mum was back from cleaning the dunnies, Dad would cut us loose from the shop. It was 3 k’s to the beach, but bare foot it felt like 300. We’d stagger through the salt bush, stomping and whooping to ward off dugites, praying that someone we knew would drive past and pick us up.

Then, hours later, sunburnt, sweating salt, sharing a pair of thongs, or walking bandy legged on our towels, we’d drag ourselves to the phone box with no money and call home, clunk, hoping like mad Mum would get the hint and drive to the beach to pick us up.

For the record, she rarely did. And thank God for that, because if she did, the blonde haired apprentice plumber Perth boy who was in to ska music and surfing might never have stopped his car.

‘Hey girls’ he said, but he was looking at me. “Are you going back to the caravan park?’ ‘Yep!’ said Marn and ripped open the door of the Combi with the confidence of a girl who was used to invitations.

‘You might have to sit in the front’ he said to me. And I felt sick. Sick enough to die happy.

That night, every time Perfect Match was interrupted by the ring of the bell over the shop door, I was out like a shot, with Marn and Susie right behind and pretty soon Dad too, “OOOh come on girls! How does my hair look? What do you think he’ll buy if he comes in?” Shut up Dad.

After dinner we took our goon of fruity lexia and headed for the bee bee queues, politely chatting to the oldies, helping them fold up their card tables and lug eskies back to their annexes. Such lovely girls. Off you toddle Vera, my ska boy might be here soon. And he was.

Hi. I said. “You’re warm.” He said. And I could feel him through the sleeve of my Dad’s big jumper.

He liked The Toasters and The Uptones, I pretended I knew who they were, made jokes about his Hitler youth hair and completely denied my inner hippy. Marnie and Sue disappeared with the goon.

From the moment he moved his towel so I could sit on the front seat, to quietly leaning against each other as the barbeque fire burned to black, I reckon it was a kiss about eight hours in the making and the sweetest I can remember.

To this day, I think he might be the only boy who ever liked me first.

And you know what? The very next weekend he broke my heart. Apparently my kisses just weren’t worth the trip from Perth. And just when my whole family was starting to like The Toasters too.

So I lay on the lounge room floor for three days ‘til Monday night, when just as Tiffany Lamb was introducing the latest happy couple, my brother ordered everyone, broken hearted or not, into the front seat of his hilux.

He prescribed a twilight swim and Neil Young, “You can forget that skin head shit, right now.”

And when it was dark, when there were no other cars of the road, Marnie, Susan and I rode home in the back and I forgot about the ska boy altogether. Standing up, holding the rail and screaming into the wind. ‘Comes a time, when you’re drifting. Comes a time, when you settle down’…but not yet.

What price slavery?

Is it just me or does everyone hate housework? Almost as much as you hate a dirty house?

And during school holidays there seems to be so much more to do! Bloody kids! Whose idea where they again????

My 15 year old son and I have a running battle over housework, I keep telling him I refuse to raise a useless adult he keeps ignoring me, happy to sit at the computer for hours, surrounded by washing he can't be bothered putting away.

For the record, I don't usually give in...it's a dance he and I have been doing for quite some time.

I remember once, when Gabe was about five, Milli was two and I was pregnant with Jemima.

I was constantly tired and grumpy and both kids were at that shocking age of all mess and no responsibility.

After a morning of cleaning up I went in to find Gabe's bath towel on his bedroom floor (ten years later...I'm pretty sure that's where you'll find it this morning too...but I digress)

"AAAHHHH" I yelled, "Sweetheart, you have got to learn to pick up your own towel. I am not your slave!"

"What's a slave?"

"It's someone who has to work and doesn't get paid for it. And it's not fair!" I whined.

The morning continued, I continued to be grumpy. With good reason.

If I wasn't picking up after them I was referreeing fights and even when I went to have a shower they came banging on the door. Thirsty apparently.

By the time I put Milli down for a sleep I was on the verge of tears. As I came out of the bedroom Gabe was waiting for me. He turned over his sweaty little hand and in a teary voice said "There you are Mummy, now you're not my slave.."

For thirty five cents he had paid me back for every thing I had ever done for him.

Like I said, a decade later he still suffers slothful child syndrome and I am occasionally forced to trot out the 'I am not your slave' lecture. Don't dare tell him, but the truth is, I'm still cheap. For the price of a hug I'll probably pick up his towel some time later today!

New Years Resolutions...

Anonymous has left a new comment on your post "Fame? I spit on fame.....":

Caroline, I heard you speaking on air on ABC radio on New Years Day 2007.

You are SENSATIONAL and INSPIRATIONAL. Please keep up the great work you do to inspire us "lardarses" to keep on trying and giving us renewed hope on our weight loss journey. I noticed the unkind SMH Blogs were posted by men! (probably boys, no gentlemen would make such comments)

Have you seen the joke about an overweight man looking into a mirror and a lady looking into the same mirror and the reflections that they see in their own minds? The fat man doesn't see himself as fat, he sees himself tall, thin and handsome with lots of hair (on his head) big biceps and a six pack stomach. I wonder if that's what your detractors see when they look into the mirror!

Susan

Thank you Susan!!!

And now it's confession time! Since Overhaul finished (for me it was waaaay back in September - didn't got to air until November/December)...I have been very slack.

I am eternally grateful to Channel Nine and the Overhaul team because I haven't put on any weight (I really have learned to just shut my mouth and NOT constantly shove food in it)... however, I haven't been quite so diligent with the exercise.

I'm basically down to one run a week with my girlfriends and I only actually do that for the coffee and chat afterward!

But it's a new year and I dragged my lardy arse off the couch yesterday evening and went for a really long walk/run. And the plan is to do that everyday! So thank you for you email - amazing how inspiring praise can be (even when the person praising you doesn't know you are actually a lazy fraudulent cow!!!)

AND, I have a plan.

I loved the Overhaul experience so much. The detox/bootcamp was incredibly successful and fun, a great bonding experience and an amazing kickstart for a diet.

So, John and I are planning to run a bootcamp on the Sunshine Coast later this year.

With the help of a lot of qualified personal trainers, chefs and our own personal experience, we are going to invite people to a four night camp where we will get you started on your weightloss/fitness journey.

The three day detox is very difficult at home on your own. In a camp situation we will make it fun and guarantee you stick to it! When you get home, the rest is up to you!

Now it won't be cheap, at least a thousand dollars for the four days, maybe more, depending on how much we have to pay for accommodation. But it will be somewhere lovely, you will have fun, you will get fit and you will lose weight.

Let me know what you think!

Love Caroline

PS We're thinking non school holiday period - maybe around May/June.

Arrive Wednesday Night...for weigh in, orientation.

Up Thursday morning - into it! Right through until Sunday afternoon - when we send you home with a new attitude and a few less kilos!

You would need to take two days off work - how does that sound???