How to surive your kids - has Spain got the answer?

If your kids aren't listening when you tell them something, it could be "inattentional blindness" according to a recent study.  You can read the full BBC article here.  A lot of mums will think that this is another way of saying they are not paying attention because they have got something better to do.  It's exasperating for parents, of course, but aren't grown-ups just as bad?  How many people do you know who never listen to what you have to say beyond the first sentence because they are too busy thinking up what they are going to say when you have kindly finished?  Yeah, right.

Spain seems to have been giving the matter of children's upbringing some thought.  Under draft child protection laws it plans to make housework and homework for the under 18's mandatory in a section entitled "The Rights and Duties of Children".  Child will also be required to respect their siblings and to "preserve and make good use of urban furniture and any similar assets".  Wow!  If that law becomes successful in Spain and its popularity spreads, it could mean that little Johnnie will get a spell in juvenile detention for taking his little brother's toys or tweaking his sister's hair.  And just imagine the war on home territory that insistence on kids doing housework?  When my two were growing up it was a major effort to get them to put something in the dishwasher.  I would have needed an army to get them to do anything in the way of cleaning, dusting or tidying up.  "Preserving and making good use of urban furniture" sounds intriguing, doesn't it?  I guess it means not smashing park benches and putting rubbish into bins provided. 

If Spain really does introduce all this legislation for its youngsters I think it will open up a whole new industry there.  Imagine parents reclining in the garden under a shady umbrella and sipping delicately at an exquisite white wine, and saying to guests and neighbours:  "The kids?  Oh we packed them off to Spain for a year so they can learn how to behave.  Johnnie's just been released from a week's detention for failure to clean his shoes when he comes in the kitchen and not listening to adults when they tell him something." 
Viva Espana! 

Working Late

I hear that in France there are plans to ban the reception or sending of emails after 6 pm for some professions/businesses.  At this moment in time I do not know if this has been made official or not. At any rate it got me thinking how nice it would be to ban some things in the evening.  Just imagine switching off to your kids as soon as the magic hour arrived?  "You're late for supper, it's after 6 pm, get your own meal" instead of "OK I'll whip you up something" when your twelve-year-old arrives in the kitchen an hour late and with no other excuse than he/she "didn't realize the time".  And what about that friend who always telephones for a chat just as you are settling down to watch your favourite soap - sometimes the only soap you keep up with?  A quick look at your watch and you can refuse.

It's not going to happen is it?  We - women that is - have never really learned to say "no" when asked for help.  That's nice actually.  It means we are not selfish or cold-hearted, we are warm, loving, helpful people - most of the time anyway.  So maybe we do need a rule which tells us when to start thinking of ourselves.  That doesn't mean we don't care, it just means that our kids, our family need to be aware that we require that all important "me time" once in a while.  Dream on everyone.

Superwoman?

Are you a star, a superstar or a celebrity or even a scandal celebrity (a description I read somewhere in the online edition of a newspaper this morning.)?   Do you feel "super" when you copy the dress your favourite star, superstar, celebrity wore to some fashionable event?  It seems that a lot of women do feel the need to buy an outfit which looks like one that, for example, the Duchess of Cambridge has worn. Once some clever fashion reporter reveals where Kate got that coat or little dress or whatever, the shop is sold out of the item within a day.  And why not if it makes you feel good? 

Do you really want to be a celeb, though?  Look at poor Pippa Middleton. Stephane Bern, a French author  maintains Ms Middleton wore a "fake bottom" at the wedding. It was all just well placed padding, she says.  Just imagine scrutinizing Pippa's bottom over the past few years and coming up with this idea. It sounds a bit as if the green eyed god has poked someone in the eye, doesn't it?  Mon Dieu!  Get a life, pleeeasee.

 If you are a celebrity people consider you fair game for all sorts of comments in what often seems to be an never-ending put down game.  Life's too short isn't it?  I'd advise Stephane to get out there in the fresh air, buy some French bread at the market and drink a big cup of freshly ground French coffee.  It'll make her feel better and the rest of us can continue enjoying ourselves with or without that ooohhh-to-die-for dress that - er - whatshername wore to that -er - event last night.

All About Women

 Science Daily reports on research that suggests the width of a woman's hips is connected to her sexual behaviour.   The researchers, Colin A. Hendrie and co-authors Victoria J. Simpson and Gayle Brewer, surmise that women with wider hips are more likely to engage in sex because the birth process is generally easier and less traumatic for them than for smaller-hipped women (below 31cm).  Click here Science Daily report to read the full article.

As usual this got me thinking about all the research that is carried out and all the conclusions that are reached based on the results.  Did I really need to know that my hip width might influence my sex life?  Of course this knowledge has its advantages. As an interesting topic for conversation at the next dull party, it might be a show stopper.  Can you imagine hungry males eyeing up the girls and wondering what the chances were?  Or women anxiously checking their hip widths to see if they are sending out the right message?  It would kind of put a stop to all the hype about being thin enough to fit into a toilet roll tube.  Broader hips would signal attractiveness.  Women could always knock 'em dead with the remark "I have the most fabulous child-bearing hips, darling."

I have the utmost respect for scientists and researchers and the work they do. But I think that in this case humans are more than statistics.  They are not objects to be assessed and classified except in the broadest of terms (and no, this is not a pun on broad hips).  Every single one of us whether small, tall, thin or broad-hipped is an individual with our own very personal likes and dislikes.  And we don't need everything we do to be explained to us in scientific terms.

Scaredy Cat

I'll admit it, I am scared of those elegant women at the make-up counters of department stores.  Their sheer elegance, flawlessly made up faces and terrific hairstyles make me cringe.  I envy anyone with the self confidence needed to sit down in the public eye so to speak and have a makeover performed on them.

I once got trapped into having a makeover of sorts or at least of trying out some new make-up.  I was prowling as inconspicuously as I could at my favourite cosmetics counter when an assistant pounced on me.  'Can I help you?' she purred and then on my mumbling something about 'just looking at some make-up', she produced a tube with lightning speed and suggested I try it.  Before I could gather what few wits I have, I found myself seated in a chair with the assistant applying make-up and advising me at the same time on what to do about my red and dry skin, all of which could be helped by one cream apparently.  When I looked in the mirror I had to admit that there was a general improvement and I was persuaded to buy the moisturizing cream to help my "little skin problem" as she put it.  In the end I bought the new foundation and also the magic cream, both excellent products I hasten to add, but way above my modest budget.  I know it's worth paying for quality cosmetics but having had to economize all my life, I always feel a bit guilty spending a lot on myself.

Looking back I have to admit that the encounter with the assistant was not guaranteed to boost my morale.  She was pleasant but very impersonal and in a discreet way she was pushy.  That's her job and I am not carping at it.  I am only saying that even though I felt good with the results of her labours, I also felt that I must have looked a wreck before she took me in hand.  But that's more down to me than to the sales assistant.  I know lots of women who love having makeovers and don't care if the whole stores looks on.  I even know one or two who will ask to try different things or reject the assistant's suggestions, something I wouldn't have the courage to do.

So if I'm inspecting a cosmetics counter I will still keep a wary eye out for any approaching assistant and I will move on before she can make me over. But I think I've matured enough to know that in the long run, no one can make you feel good except yourself and not all the lavish attention of a beauty expert is going to change that.  Kind of reassuring, isn't it?

Women in Black and White

Lately I started watching old black and white films and I was struck with how mysterious and sexy the women characters appeared.  This is particularly true of the films of Ray Chandler's novels.  The one I watched last night was Farewell my Lovely from 1944 - it was originally called Murder my Sweet and it featured Claire Trevor as the blonde bombshell.  The acting in general might not have been up to much - in the later version Robert Mitchum was much more convincing as the world-weary Philip Marlowe than Robert Powell - but it was fun to watch it.  In his novels Chandler nearly always featured a mysterious blonde with a pouty mouth who while eminently desirable was a bad girl at heart trying to lead the detective astray :  "a blonde to make a bishop kick a hole in a stained glass window" as he describes it in Farewell my Lovely.  This film didn't disappoint in that regard.

I think that the women heroes (we aren't allowed to call them heroines any more are we?) in today's cinema are a different breed, even the ones who seduced Michael Douglas in past films.  There seems to be a lack of that smouldering subtlety that characterised the black and white era.  There were no bedroom scenes but there was no need for them as every gesture told a story and had everyone's imagination working overtime.  I think modern cinema does an overkill on sex and violence, those two motors of the film industry.  In effect it tells us that we don't have the wit to work it out for ourselves.  Mae West is of course one of the best examples here and her "why don't you come up, see me some time?" said in that husky voice is surely one of the best temptress lines recorded.

And the women were more than simple sex objects.  They might have been bad and nearly fooled the detective but they were intelligent, had their own agenda, and defied the role of wholesome stay-home-at-the-kitchen-sink housewife and mother which was so prevalent at the time.  They certainly would not have fitted comfortably into life on Walton's Mountain any more than women in our modern culture do.  I don't want to go back to earlier cinema stereotypes but I think we may have lost something in glamorous femme fatales along the way. 

Dieting and all that

I've read so much about The Right Diet -  eat  less carbohydrates and fat and oh let's not forget sugar and then everyone takes too much salt - that I am considering giving up reading, at least about what's good and bad for you in the food chain.  I recently bought "low salt" soya sauce but when I compared the label to my (nearly empty) "regular" soya sauce, I found the "low salt" contained more salt. Yikes, who do you believe? How about an investigation titled "Is your food label telling you the truth?"

Of course food has to have something added to it to preserve it.  Even naive little me knows that.  Assuming the manufacturers are telling the truth about "standard portions" and "100 grams" worth of their products, it really means studying the labels and making an informed decision.  So there I am standing in the aisle of my local supermarket, blocking the mothers with trollies and grizzling toddlers, reading food labels.  It takes ages and you really need a pencil and paper or something more technical like your I-phone or what-have-you. 

You really have to understand what goes into a product, though, and this requires a lot of label reading.  On bad days and even some good days, I envisage a Reading Room at the supermarket where you can take all the products, read the labels and add up the sugar, salt, fat and calorie content of each one and make your decision accordingly.  By the time you've finished you will either a) have fainted with hunger and been shipped off to the local A&E, b) been shipped off to the local A&E because of supreme agitation, c) decided you will never buy a packaged product in future even if you don't know how to cook the next meal or....  but let me stop there.  I think you get the picture. 

Having driven myself crazy for a few weeks, I now just do an "informed estimate".   I check the recommended daily portion for fat, sugar and salt on each label and go for the lowest.   It's surprising how much more fat there is in some low fat spreads than in ordinary ones, for example.  I give starchy foods a wide berth, only buying wholegrain bread, rice and pasta.  But I do allow for treats now and then - life is too short to cut everything you love out of your diet.  Knowing that Friday night I can have half a bar of my favourite chocolate is a real incentive to bypass the stuff for the rest of the week.  The real solution, of course, lies in limiting the damage and enjoying your meals. I've combined this with exercise - just walking and climbing stairs - and I have lost a few pounds in weight, a fact I enter in my weight diary.  The feel good factor associated with this is a powerful incentive to continue and to have fun at the same time.