Tears For The Turtles

I was in the kitchen  - doing the usual - emptying the dishwasher, prepping dinner, putting shopping away etc. etc.

The kids were watching television and, as is her way, La-la had it tuned to some nature programme. I was vaguely aware of its contents hearing various references to dugongs and turtles.  Now, the Dude loves nature and is very respectful of the environment but by and large he would rather be watching a programme with turtles of the ninja variety.  Therefore I was waiting for his inevitable appearance in the kitchen to lodge his usual complaint about his sister watching "them nature programmes" again!

I didn't have to wait long.  Five minutes later he appeared before me but this time, instead of launching into complaint mode, he asked me a question.

"What does extinct mean?"

I looked at him.

"Extinct?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied, somewhat impatiently, "what does it mean?"

I wondered where this had come from and concluded it must be something he had seen on the T.V.

"It means when there is no more of something on the planet, like no more of a certain creature."

His little face creased into a frown.

"What do you mean no more?  Like none at all?  Not even one?"

"Yes," I answered, "not even one."

His eyes teared up and he looked stricken.

"You mean," he choked out past the lump in his throat, "you mean there won't be any turtles left?"

I was at a loss for words and caught completely off guard by the extent to which he was upset.

"Well, I'm not sure what the exact story is with the turtles," I started to explain, "but..."

I didn't get any further before he exploded at me, "but the guy on Bushwhacked just said they are in danger of becoming extinct!"

I was silent.  I didn't know what to say.

A tear slid down my son's face.

"Why?" he cried, "Why? Why are we killing the turtles and their friends the dugongs?"

I stood there looking at my son and I didn't have an answer because I have no bloody idea why we are killing the turtles and their friends the dugongs.  I was under the impression that things were improving.  I thought we were turning this situation around.  I thought there had been a collective cottoning on as to the fact that instead of destroying this planet and all the creatures on it, we've got to start saving it.

I stood there in the face of the Dude's anger and confusion and I said, "I don't know.  I don't know why so many of the turtles are still being killed.  All I know is that there are many people trying to save them and protect them and those people are doing great work."

Somewhat mollified, the Dude considered my response before coming to his conclusion, whereupon he looked at me and stated, "well they need to do a lot more, because we need them to not get extinct!"

With that he turned around and headed back to his position in front of the T.V.

The whole situation bothered me today so I checked out what the status of the sea turtles is. Sadly it's perilous.  Here are the stats:

GLOBAL STATUS

The world's seven sea turtle species are classified as follows according to the IUCN Red List of Threatened Species:

Leatherbacks: Vulnerable

Greens: Endangered

Loggerheads: Endangered

Hawksbills: Critically Endangered

Olive Ridleys: Vulnerable

Kemp's Ridleys: Critically Endangered

Flatbacks: Data Deficient

 

IUCN DEFINITIONS:

Critically Endangered: Species is considered to be facing an extremely high risk of extinction in the wild.

Endangered: Species is considered to be facing a very high risk of extinction in the wild. 

Vulnerable: Species is considered to be facing a high risk of extinction in the wild.

I'd no idea things were this bad!

So what can we do? Sadly, there's not a lot we, as individuals, can do about more traditional societies in Asia and Central America who eat both the eggs and the meat of the adult turtles but turtle conservancy groups are doing what they can to change these practices and have experienced some measure of success.  The same goes for the illegal turtle-shell trade and the effects of commercial fishing.

We, however, can clean up our act!

The Sea Turtle Conservancy states:

"It is estimated that more than 100 million marine animals are killed each year due to plastic debris in the ocean. More than 80% of this plastic comes from land. It washes out from our beaches and streets. It travels through storm drains into streams and rivers. It flies away from landfills into our seas. As a result, thousands of sea turtles accidentally swallow these plastics, mistaking them for food. Leatherbacks especially, cannot distinguish between floating jellyfish - a main component of their diet - and floating plastic bags. Most of the debris is recognizable: plastic bags, balloons, bottles, degraded buoys, plastic packaging, and food wrappers. Some plastics aren't so easy to see, so small, in fact, that it is invisible to the naked eye. If sea turtles ingest these particles, they can become sick or even starve."  

Plastic Bags or Jellyfish?

Imagine if we just got rid of plastic bags - what a difference this could make!

Coastal erosion, marine pollution, oil spills and coastal development are all areas being dealt with by turtle conservancy groups - who need our support.  However, another area where we as individuals can make a difference is to keep our vehicles off the beaches!

"Tyre ruts left by vehicles can extend the time it takes a hatchling to reach the ocean and increase their chance of being caught by a predator. Driving during the day can cause sand compaction above nests resulting in lower nest success. Additionally, beach driving contributes to erosion, especially during high tides or on narrow beaches.  Night time driving can disturb nesting females, disorient emerging hatchlings, and crush hatchlings attempting to reach the ocean. "  - Sea Turtle Conservancy.

Also, we can burst our balloons! Yes, you read that correctly.  This was one that surprised me but the air-filled spherical rubber accompaniments to most human celebrations is yet another threat to the turtles.  When released into the air they don't stay there - most of them eventually end up in the ocean where the turtles mistake them for food.  So burst them or deflate them and take them home because I don't think any of us will be celebrating the day there are no more of these beautiful and wonderful creatures left on our planet.

The Beautiful Leatherback Turtle

Oh Mrs. Brown!

I have to admit to being somewhat confused as to Australia's film and TV classification system, especially the M category.  There is a plain old M and an MA both of which are aimed at "mature audiences" of fifteen years of age and over.  It's the plain old M that confuses me the most as it applies to some TV programmes where there is nothing that could be deemed offensive and then it applies to others that most certainly could. Please bear this in mind as I tell you the rest of my tale...

The Mysterious M

Sooooo, being from Ireland, a little bit of bad language is nothing out of the ordinary.  Whereas there are those that may find it offensive back in the ould sod, as a nation we are generally more accepting of it.  Now, as TV programmes go, it could be said that Mrs. Brown's Boys has an excessive amount of bad language and that observation would probably be correct.  However, as an Irish mammy, I don't have a problem with it and most certainly don't worry about protecting La-la and the Dude's little ears from language they will most certainly hear walking down any Irish street.  

Mrs. Brown can also be somewhat rude on occasion but usually in such a way that younger viewers don't get the full meaning - at least not on any of the episodes I've previously watched.

Mrs. Brown and Banana!

La-la and the Dude have fond memories of our last trip to Ireland, sitting in their grandparents sitting room laughing themselves silly with Grandma and Grandad at Mrs. Brown's crazy antics.  So last night we were looking for something to watch on the TV and they spotted Mrs. Brown's Boys and shouted with glee, "Can we watch it?  Can we watch it? Puhleeeeeese!"  Somewhat wary but also somewhat homesick and craving a bit of Irish humour, I agreed.

The title of the episode was Mammy Rides Again and that's possibly where I should have taken my first clue from...

It was the episode where Dermot is getting married and Mrs. brown is banned from the hen party. But that doesn't stop our girl - oh no!  She discovers the venue and hatches a plan with her ever-ready partner in crime, Winnie, to crash the party in grand style.  This is where I should have taken my second clue that things were about to erm... how shall I put this... turn raunchy.

There were also plenty of other clues, such as her "innocently" offering the plumber part-payment for the installation of her new toilet with a blow-job!

I was somewhat alarmed at this but assured La-la and the Dude that I hadn't a clue what that meant or why it was so funny!

We continued watching, me content in the knowledge that the worst had already passed.  Then the action switches to the pub and just as Winnie discovers it's not actually the venue for the hen party but a funeral is being held there, our heroine - the one and only - Mrs. Brown, comes riding into the party with a giant inflatable penis between her legs!

The Moment Winnie Discovers There Is A Funeral
Going On And Not A Hen Party!

My eyes pop and my mouth drops!  I look at the kids to see if they have any understanding as to what they are looking at.  Both of them look puzzled.  La-la looks at me and says, "what is that?"

I look at her, dumbstruck, not sure what to say.

"I don't know," I reply, "I think it's a giant worm."

The Dude looks at me. "That's not a worm!" he announces.  "It's a giant willy!"

I didn't think my eyes could pop any more but they did!

"Don't be silly," I announce, with more than a nervous tremor in my voice, "why would she be running around on a giant willy."

"I don't know," the Dude replied very matter of factly, "adults are weird and she's crazy!"

Thankfully the on-screen action switched back to the morning after, back at the house, whereupon Mrs. Brown announces, "oh shit, I left my dick in the taxi last night."

La-la's eyes go wide and she declares, (totally bewildered) "oh my God, it was a willy!"

At this stage I suggest it's time to go to bed but my children are having none of it.

So far my feigned innocence and lack of alarm has resulted in them having no idea as to the sexual meanings of any of the terms or props being used and I suspect if I start making a big deal about going to bed they (or at least the Dude!) will smell a rat.  So, I tell myself that surely the worst really is over and there's only a few more minutes to go so what else could possibly happen?  What else indeed...

A few minutes later Rory's boyfriend ends up with his trousers around his ankles, revealing his fishnet stockings and suspenders.

The Dude looks at me with a "what the hell" expression on his face and La-la is open-mouthed and can't take her eyes off the screen.  It's obvious she is trying to make up her mind as to whether to believe her eyes or not.

God only knows what I look like at this stage.

La-la turns and asks, "what the hell, why is that guy wearing women's stockings?"

I decide there's nothing for it but to tell the truth, after all these are the kids who wanted to know why the lovely lady serving us lunch talked like a man when we were on holidays in Thailand.

"I don't know," I reply, "some guys like to dress like women, just like some women like to dress like men. It's no big deal."

La-la looked back at the television nodding her head slowly as if she needed to give this some more thought.

The Dude announced, "I'm never wearing those things!"

I started to laugh and soon the credits started to roll on the screen.  The kids thought I was still laughing at Mrs. Brown's new toilet exploding, and I was, but it was as much from relief that the whole roller-coaster of a show was over!

I've since given the M rating a new classification - Maybe Not! Especially when it comes to crazy Irish mammies.

Mrs. Brown & Her Crazy Crew!

The Things We Do!

The Dude took me aside yesterday evening and with his most solemn face took a hold of my hand and explained he had something big to ask of me. I looked into his huge, hypnotic eyes wondering what on earth was coming next.  

He took a deep breath, glanced at the floor, then back at me and let it out.

"I need you to bake some brownies for the Italian celebration at school tomorrow."

The Dude be looking for some of these!

He squeezed my hand for effect, as if the plea in his eyes wasn't enough.

I inhaled sharply.

La-la looked on - shocked.
I should mention that the kitchen is not where I shine... and I find baking particularly erm... challenging...

The Dude stood there looking like the decision to go on with the rest of his life or not rested on my answer.

"Me?" I squawked.

He nodded his head. I'm not sure if he could have squeezed any more solemnity into his expression.

I looked at La-la.

She returned my horrified expression.

I looked back to the Dude.

"Do you think that's such a good idea?" I asked him.

"Yeah," La-la announced, "do you think that's such a good idea?"

The Dude slowly turned his head and looked at his sister.

"I'm not sure," he admitted, "but everyone else is going to be bringing something in so this is my only hope..."

He then proceeded to look at the floor, still holding my hand.

This kid is good.

"Okay," I informed him, "I'll give it a go, but only if we have the necessary ingredients here."

He beamed at me.

"Oh we do!" he declared and ran to the cupboard whereupon he produced a packet of Woolworth's Brownie Mix.

I fixed him with a suspicious look.

"Oh imagine that," I announced, "we just happen to have a brownie mix in the house."

The Dude's face split into a grin.

"Yeah, we do," he laughed.

Three eggs, a lump of butter and forty-five minutes later we had a brownie cake and a very happy little boy as he and his sister licked the bowl clean.

Chocolate Brownie Cake

He headed off to school this morning with quite possibly the least fancy offering of all for the Italian celebration but there was an extra pep in his step and a bit more puff in his chest at the fact that this time he could proudly announce his mammy had baked brownies!

Happy Little Boy With His Euros
All Ready To Buy The Goodies!

Oh the things we do!

Happy Mother's Day

They found me this morning, in my office, with a cup of coffee and getting a bit of work done before they insist I relax and "do nothing" today on my special day!

Then they scurried off to wherever they had their little surprises hidden and came back, their gorgeous faces aglow with happiness.

I opened La-la's first.  A beautiful handmade card, bookmark and necklace telling me to, "Enjoy The Little Things."

Handmade By La-La

The Necklace

The Dude was jumping from foot to foot with excitement! I took his gifts of little handmade boxes and a notebook thinking that was it but the true gift was in the inside pages of the notebook.

"Open it! Open it!" he exclaimed!

I did and I found a list of words.  Not just any old words but a list of words about how I make him feel.  Here they are:

"Happy. Joyful. Glad. Delighted. Loved. Believed. Gleeful. Angry (sometimes but not that much!) Excited. Thrilled. Supported. Cared For. Cheerful. Surprised. Powered Up! Super. Terrific. Magnificent. Brilliant. Awesome. Cool."

I was floored!

And then I looked up and saw the love and joy beaming out from their beautiful faces.  These two little beings - so happy that I am their mother.  And I at once felt humbled and tiny and all-powerful and ready to take on the world.

How La-la And The Dude See Me

Being a mum will challenge you in ways you never dreamed of but it also means being loved in a way you can't possibly ever imagine.

To all the amazing mums out there, I wish you a Happy Mother's Day.  Enjoy.

Two Girls And Their Tits!

Okay, a few weeks ago Kim Kardashian posted a pic of herself in her bathroom, naked, her modesty (?) preserved by a pair of well placed black bars .  I, along with a lot of other people, had a lot to say about this particular photo.  And whereas I reserve Kim's right to do whatever she wants with her body and share as many naked snaps of it as she likes, I have to say I fell unequivocally into the Better Midler camp and thought, "really?  another naked selfie?  All alone in your bathroom?  Is it not getting a little boring by now?  A little sad even?"

The Divine Miss M

Judging by Kim's inflamed responses apparently she doesn't think so.  And then the other day herself and her bestie, Emily Ratajkowski, go ahead and post a pic of the two of them naked from their waists up, their breasts covered by the obligatory black bar and the two of them flipping the bird to the world.

Ratajkowski & Kardashian

Apparently this photo was all about female empowerment, and in responding to criticism, Emily Ratajkowski had this to say - "'We are more than just our bodies but that doesn't mean we have to be shamed for them or our sexuality."

I'm sorry but have I missed something?  Did I miss photos of either of these women being involved in charity work?  Did I miss either of these women using the huge followings they have to further the cause of women affected by life-crushing issues such as poverty, sexual violence and gender inequality?  Did I miss where either one of them produced a coherent, constructive analysis of the issues affecting women today?

I'm sorry Ms. Ratajkowski but when you and your pal Kim make it all about your bodies - all the damn time - then I'm afraid we can draw no other conclusion other than you are just your bodies for we have no other evidence to go on.  Furthermore, since when were either of you "shamed" for your Hollywood physiques?

I doubt if anyone has snorted behind you as you approached a buffet.  I doubt if anyone has shouted, "quick get to the food before Ratajkowski!" I doubt if anyone has laughed openly at you as you changed out of your swimming costume in the changing rooms.  I doubt if you know the real meaning of being "shamed" for your physical appearance.

So excuse me if I think your rally cry for female empowerment rings strangely hollow and if your actions speak louder to me than your words.  I see a photo of two incredibly beautiful women involved in an act of gratuitous self-promotion and that I am afraid is it, no matter how you might like to dress it up.

When I see photos of you involved in activities other than promoting yourself then I might be more inclined to listen to what you have to say about female empowerment but until then I'll take my lead on these matters from any number of women who choose to empower us all with their clothes on.

Who Needs To Be Nice!

December and all its threats of, "you'd better be good or you won't get anything from Santa!" seems very far away now in the run up to Valentine's Day but for me it is a month when I am glad to have that little something extra in my arsenal when it comes to managing the Dude.  I don't know what it is about December but the Dude's behaviour always takes a dive towards the mid-way mark which traditionally sees him firmly placed on the naughty list.  The second half of the month is usually a focused effort on behalf of myself and Big Daddy to get him on the nice list with lots of cajoling, gentle reminders, pointed discussions and outright threats.

So far we have been successful and every Christmas morning the Dude has awoken to gifts under the tree for him instead of a lump of coal.

The Dude Has Always Delighted In
Presents Even If they
Weren't His!

However, I have often wondered to what extent we are successfully managing his behaviour or to what extent is he just playing along - letting us think we are in control!

The other day I may have gotten my answer....

It was something of a dodgy weather day so I decided to head to the hairdressers at the local shopping centre and Big Daddy took the kids for a much requested play at the indoor play place. Two hours later I emerged from the salon, thankfully looking more Glammy Mammy and less Granny Mammy! The kids announced they were hungry so we went in search of food (a tad more challenging now since we have a vegetarian in the family).  

We sourced some garlic bread and ordered two portions. The bread looked delicious and La-la shared some of hers with Big Daddy. Not wanting to eat all of hers, Big Daddy asked the Dude for some of his. (Now, it should be stated the Dude has only ever seen food as a means to an end. Eating just gets in the way of his schedule and interrupts all those important things he's got to do, so the Dude only ever eats just enough to take the edge off and keep him going and the rest is usually left there.)

The Dude informed Big Daddy he was starving and he couldn't possibly spare a piece of the garlic bread.  

Big Daddy was shocked.

"What?" he asked, "are you refusing to share your garlic bread with me?"

The Dude fixed him with a, "don't even think about it," glare and said, "yes, I'm hungry."

Still in shock, Big Daddy pressed for confirmation.

"So let me get this straight, I've just spent thirty dollars on taking you to a play place and drinks and another twenty dollars on garlic bread and you can't share some of it with me?"

The Dude looked at him.

"You can go and get your own garlic bread," he pointed out, "I'm eating all of this because I'm hungry."

Big Daddy pointed out that he never finished anything and if he finished the garlic bread it would be the first time in his life he finished a portion of food we bought for him.

The Dude fixed him with a belligerent look and announced, "well I'm eating all of this."

Go To Hell Daddy - This Bread Is Mine!

Big Daddy fixed him with an, "ok kid you're on," look and informed him that he'd better finish it or he wasn't getting any ice cream. He pointed out that the Dude could give him a piece of garlic bread now, when it was hot because he wasn't interested in eating a cold piece when the Dude couldn't eat any more and decided to offer what was left to him, just so he could get an ice cream.

The Dude looked Big Daddy in the eye, no overt defiance, nothing, just a quiet declaration, "I'm eating it all."

Big Daddy sat back, sure in the knowledge that in ten minutes we would be dragging a disgruntled seven year old to the car without an ice cream and he would have won this face-off with his son.

An hour later myself and Big Daddy exchanged glances as the Dude sat there quietly getting through the garlic bread. Big Daddy had settled in with some beers. I sipped my water. La-la wondered when we could get ice cream. The Dude looked like he was fit to burst but still he kept putting bite-sized pieces of garlic bread into his mouth. His face was a mask of innocence but I could almost hear the cogs of his mind working overtime. This was a big "screw you" to his parents!

The Dude Was Starting To Look Something Like This

A half an hour later he was reduced to tearing the garlic bread into tiny pieces and then popping them into his mouth. I've never seen him eat so much food in one sitting before and I knew he was struggling but it was obvious he had no intention of stopping until there wasn't a crumb left. I glanced at Big Daddy who gave me a, "what the hell" look. I tried to hold back the laughter.

The Dude sat there, still with the look of innocence on his face, no defiance, no hint of what he was really up to, except for he was starting to look a little uncomfortable.

I decided to give him an out.

"You know, I'm sure if you apologise to Daddy for being so selfish and explain to him that you won't do it again, he might consider buying you a small ice cream."

The Dude looked at me, curiously, and then proceeded to keep breaking the garlic bread into tiny pieces and forcing them into his mouth.

Fifteen minutes later there wasn't a crumb left. He turned to his Dad and announced, "I'm sorry Daddy but as you can clearly see, I really was very hungry."

Big Daddy was somewhat at a loss. It was obvious we were being played.

Before Big Daddy could say anything, I jumped in.

"Hang on," I said, "are you apologising because you are really sorry or because you just want an ice cream."

He looked at me, a little squeeze of his eyes telling me he resented me calling him out on what he considered the perfect play of his parents.

He hesitated, wondering what was the best way to answer my question. My gaze was unflinching and direct, warning him in no uncertain terms to tell the truth.

He dipped his head.

"Well, I wanted to say sorry but I was angry so I didn't but now I've thought about it and I am really sorry and I won't be so selfish again."

He flicked a look over at his Dad.

"Sorry, Daddy," he said.

"Hmmmm...." Big Daddy replied

"Am I allowed an ice cream?" the Dude asked.

Big Daddy looked at me, with a, "what you wanna do" look on his face.

I asked the Dude if he could possibly fit an ice cream in after all that garlic bread?

He enthusiastically nodded his head.

I waited, letting him stew and then handed down my decision.

"You can get a small ice cream today, you were obviously very hungry (the last comment was to give him the impression we hadn't seen through his actions, I think it's very important for the future that he thinks we're a pair of eejits who he can pull one over on, otherwise he might up his game and then we're totally screwed!) and you told the truth about being angry and I believe your apology to Daddy was genuine. However, you need to lose the selfish 'tude. If there's any more of it going forward then you are going to be a very sorry little boy."

He nodded his head very solemnly but..... I can't be sure, but there may have been a hint of a grin lurking at the edge of his lips.

It's going to be an interesting year.....

The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

The letters have been written.

Letters To Santa

The Christmas Tree is up.

The Christmas Tree

The candle's in the window.

The Candle In The Window

The angels are singing.

A Christmas Angel At Mad Mammy Towers

The presents are delivered.

Presents Under The Tree

Now, let Christmas begin!

Happy Christmas to you all from the Mad Mammy.

La-la's Christmas Tree