We’re Romping and We Need Your Help!

My son Jack and I (official team photo here) are joining the Melbourne City Romp, part of the fight to save lives and we need your support! Help us raise $1000 to go directly to the Burnet Institute’s research team. Up to 20,000 Rompers from across Australia are expected to take part and help support Burnet’s Romp for a Cure fundraising initiative. All funds go DIRECTLY to Burnet’s fight against The ‘Big Three’: HIV, TB and malaria, some of the world’s worst infectious diseases.

Now I realise that you, like me, get bombarded with requests to help, probably daily. But what if I was asking you for only $10 … With over 100 Facebook friends PLUS ALL OF YOU FOF FANS chipping in that $10, we’d have our $1000 in no time! And Burnet would be closer to a cure.

YOU DON’T HAVE TO ATTEND TO CHEER US ON. (WE’RE SO FAST, YOU’D NEVER FOLLOW US ANYWAY!!).

Follow this link to our team page where you’ll find prompts to make your donation: http://www.melbournecityromp.com/team_profile/1361  

By the way, this was Jack’s idea and I’m proud of him for suggesting it. What’s wrong with young people these days? Where’d they get this social conscience???

We appreciate your partnership!! May life be good to you!!

Vacation, Vacation, Vacation

Sigh. Well, I’m freshly back from 5-day road trip with my two boys. (My long-suffering wife kept working, enduring lonely nights at home with nothing to keep her happy but having the TV, the bed, the popcorn all to herself. Poor thing.)

Most important lesson I learned from this trip was not to pack too much in.

Second most important, boys eating lots of junk food and being cooped up together in a car and motel rooms = lots of farts – live with it.

Third most important was, if you’ve travelling to another city, get a real map. a handful of google map print-offs won’t do. Canberra is the most bizarrely laid out city on earth. You literally drive in circles, under one cross streett and over the next until you are heading in the opposite direction you think you are. In fact, oldest son came up with the best advice: “Dad, just drive opposite to what you think.” It worked…

Anyhoo. It was definitely worthwhile, and I’m so glad I took the time out to do it, and grateful to the wife for helping me plan accomodation etc. Left to me, we’d be doing the Mary and Joseph thing, roaming around a town after dark looking for an inn…

Without boring you with anecdotes and too many slides, here’s some photos…

Youngest Son (pretty much the only Aldin willing to be photographed). Here you see said youngster posing by a vehicle of destruction at our War Museum in Canberra, probably dreaming about hotwiring it…

 

This is one of the amazing sets of models at the Museum depicting famous scenes from the Great War. Absolutely breathtaking.

 

Constable Pete putting his son in the tree-trunk jail for farting  in the car. 

They’re Back!

Yes the Aldins have returned from the warmth of Queensland’s Gold Coast to the chill of Melbourne. Many thanks to our housesitter Teaghs who not only looked after the dog-monkey, but MADE OUR BED WITH FRESH SHEETS for our arrival home. So nice to have a maid…

Here’s a few happy snaps and some thoughts to follow. Will also bore you with shots from wifey’s cell phone once I get it hooked up to the PC…

 

 

 

Youngest Son riding the waves…

 

 

 

Youngest Son with the one that got away…

 

 

 

 

 

The view from out of our apartment living room window.

 

 

 

 

Ten  Point Summary of holiday:

1. 13 year old males need to either take a friend up with them or be taken out and entertained every second of every day or else their testosterone levels take the fun out of the holiday for everyone else. (Lesson learned for next time)
2. 13 year old males can also be trusted to take their brother for the afternoon around the theme park so Mum and Dad can play on the slides. (That was a GOOD day).
3. Movieworld sucks mainly because they won’t let you take food into the park and you have to pay ridiculous prices for their food.
4. Dreamworld suprised me by having the most (and best) to do of any of the 5 main theme parks up there.
5. My bad back survived the Superman ride, the Tower of Terror (twice), the Motorcoaster and LOTS of waterslides.
6. Ten year old boys are fun to take on holidays because everything’s exciting and fun.
7. On the Gold Coast you get burnt in the morning and tanned in the afternoon. Wierd.
8. Very little customer service exists on the Gold Coast. Don’t expect it and you won’t get annoyed.
9. Fold up magnetic games are a lifesaver on plane trips with kids.
10. Highlight last time was firing 50 rounds with a Glock. This time it was simply sitting on the patio reading a novel and staring at the surf. Must be getting old…

The Fine Art of Meddling

Want to build a cubby house with your kids?  Here’s how not to do it.

Many moons ago, I found myself building a “cubby-house” (or more likely a lean-to) for my oldest son. Only problem was, it shouldn’t have been me building it. Let me explain…

I’d been reading about how pre-teen boys need to engage with the outdoors and some have the instinct to build shelters to prove to themselves they could fend for themselves. It all sounded rather plausible and when my son came to me asking if he could build a “cubby” in the backyard, because his friend Nathan had just done that in his, I was all for it. We went to see a friend of mine, a carpenter, who kindly made some suggestions about what materials and even gave my son (and me!) a crash course in building and construction. We assembled the materials and went home to build it.

I know what you’re thinking: “What a great Dad! Giving his son space and encouragement to do it. And look at his rippling muscles in that picture as he even gets involved with the project. I wish I had a Dad like that.”

… actually, you shouldn’t wish that.

From the start, this project was undermined by two of my tendencies that I battle constantly:

• the need to be seen as a great Dad – particularly by my kids – and
• the need to teach things … actually, let’s call that last one what it really is: the need to micromanage (to direct or control in a detailed, often meddlesome manner).

Things first came unstuck when I told him, no you can’t build it where you want to, you have to build it where I want you to. At first pass, this might sound like a good thing, and – look – if he had wanted to build it on the roof of our house or nail it to my wife’s car, then fair enough, I should say no. But he simply wanted to attach it to the back fence. I didn’t like that and said, no build it over here.

The next problem came when I stayed outside to assist him instead of going into the house and leaving him to it. Now, my excuse was he asked me to stay, specifically to hold the beams while he hammered. Again, good dadship to be there for him? But alack! and alas! I couldn’t keep my big mouth shut.

When he said “Dad I can’t do this!!”, struggling to get the nail into the wood, I could have said, “Yes you can; keep at it champ.” Sometimes I do encourage him this way. But not this time. I could have said, “This wood is pretty hard, it’s probably not suited to this. Do you want to finish what we can with the other pieces then go out and find another piece that’s easier to work with?” That would have allowed him to stay in control and saved face for him. I could have said that but I didn’t.

I said, “Let me have a try.”

Those 5 little words resulted ultimately in the photo you see above. Where is my son in that photo? Nowhere. (My other son is taking it). Oldest Son has by this time gone inside frustrated. After twenty minutes of rising tension about how to do things, he’d thrown a mild tantrum and given up. Because whereas I thought I was communicating “I’m here for you”, what he heard was “You can’t do it, give a real man the hammer.”

As usual from little things, big things grow. From my small action – well TWO small actions – discouragement flourished.

The results: four planks of wood loosely nailed together in my backyard and sitting there for months like that, a boy who lost interest in building things and a Dad still kicking himself.

You might say all sorts of things like, “The boy should have had thicker skin” and such. I seriously don’t think this one was about him being oversensitive. I think I truly screwed up.

The lessons for me were twofold:

1. be careful not to communicate to a boy that he can’t do ‘it’  [there are so many subtle and not-so subtle ways we can do this]
2. be careful not to discourage a kid from a passion of theirs in any way

In this case, there was a fine line between directing and discouraging, between placing boundaries around his activity and meddling with it. Knowing my son, what he needed and desired from me was my company, my pride in him, my encouragement.

Sometimes kids need to be allowed to make a mess of our backyards, to risk putting a crack in our fence palings, and even to try-and-fail without being shown “how to do it properly” (especially by someone like me who really didn’t know how to do it anyway.)

An 8 year old’s Movie Review

From my son’s school journal, dated 18th February 2008 (he was then 8 years old), copied exactly as written…

Last night I went to the movis to see Jumper the movie. It had lot’s of swear words in it so I no it’s M15+. It’s about a boy who get’s his girlfriend somthing and a boy takes it and throws it on ice and the boy gets it then falls in the ice and he ends up in a library. He finds another Jumper and they are rich so they have everything they want. And people try to kill the Jumpers.

Apologies for the plot spoiler…

We got a Bleeder!

Get a call. At work. Not a call you want to get anywhere or anytime…

“Your (8-year old) Son got hit in the head by a rock thrown by another student, Mr Aldin.” Blood everywhere. School Nurse had “never seen so much blood.”

The Good Lady Wife leaves her work, picks him up, takes him to the Doctor. Everything’s fine. The cut is less than a centimetre long (about 1/4 inch) and not very deep. Must have just hit a blood vessel. He’s ok, but it hurt a lot.

Finally gets back to his normal chirpy self, lies on a camp mattress in front of the TV

… only to have his bigger brother (who is in those awkward first stages of puberty where suddenly the body is bigger than the brain thinks it is and who has no idea where his limbs exist in the space-time continuum) try to step across the patient

… and kick him hard in the head

… right where the rock hit…

More tears.

Fortunately no more blood.

Ah, the joys.

Canine Proofreading

When Youngest Son was even younger (around 4 y.o.), we were walking the dog one day and he asked, “Why do dogs do wee (urinate) everywhere they go?” I explained that they were leaving messages for other dogs to say they’d been here.

Another time he asked “Why do dogs sniff trees all the time?” “Because they’re reading the messages left there by other dogs. It’s kind of like email.”

Armed with this rich understanding of the ways of the world, my son was satisfied. He said nothing more on the topic for the past 4 years, except the occasional “I wonder what she’s writing” when we’d walk our dog and she’d pause for a moment …

Yesterday, the budding stand-up comic watches the dog taking a leak in our backyard (as you do when you’re bored). He turns to me and says “I know why dogs sniff their own wee when they’re finished. They’re checking back over what they’ve written. And if they see a ‘b’ where there should be a ‘d’, they-” and here he mimes a dog cocking its leg – “rewrite that part.”

Don’t Do This…

Here I am building a “cubby-house” (or more likely a lean-to) for my oldest son about two years ago.

I’d been reading about how pre-teen boys need to engage with the outdoors and some have the instinct to build shelters to prove to themselves they could fend for themselves. It all sounded rather plausible and when my son came to me asking if he could build a “cubby” in the backyard, because his friend Nathan had just done that in his, I was all for it. We went to see a friend of mine, a carpenter, who kindly made some suggestions about what materials and even gave my son (and me!) a crash course in building and construction. We assembled the materials and went home to build it.

I know what you’re thinking: “What a great Dad! Giving his son space and encouragement to do it. And look at his rippling muscles in that picture as he even gets involved with the project. I wish I had a Dad like that.”

… actually, you shouldn’t wish that.

From the start, this project was undermined by two of my tendencies that I battle constantly:

• the need to be seen as a great Dad (see it even showed up above in this very post) – particularly by my kids – and
• the need to teach things … actually, let’s call that last one what it really is: the need to micromanage (to direct or control in a detailed, often meddlesome manner).

Things first came unstuck when I told him, no you can’t build it where you want to, you have to build it where I want you to. At first pass, this might sound like a good thing, and – look – if he had wanted to build it on the roof of our house or nail it to my wife’s car, then fair enough, I should say no. But he simply wanted to attach it to the back fence. I didn’t like that and said, no build it over here.

The next problem came when I stayed outside to assist him instead of going into the house and leaving him to it. Now, my excuse was he asked me to stay, specifically to hold the beams while he hammered. Again, good dadship to be there for him? But alack! and alas! I couldn’t keep my big mouth shut.

When he said “Dad I can’t do this!!”, struggling to get the nail into the wood, I could have said, “Yes you can; keep at it champ.” Sometimes I do encourage him this way. But not this time. I could have said, “This wood is pretty hard, it’s probably not suited to this. Do you want to finish what we can with the other pieces then go out and find another piece that’s easier to work with?” That would have allowed him to stay in control and saved face for him. I could have said that but I didn’t.

I said, “Let me have a try.”

Those 5 little words resulted ultimately in the photo you see above. Where is my son in that photo? Nowhere. (My other son is taking it). Oldest Son has by this time gone inside frustrated. After twenty minutes of rising tension about how to do things, he’d thrown a mild tantrum and given up. Because whereas I thought I was communicating “I’m here for you”, what he heard was “You can’t do it, give a real man the hammer.”

As usual from little things, big things grow. From my small action – well TWO small actions – discouragement flourished.

The results: four planks of wood loosely nailed together in my backyard and sitting there for months like that, a boy who lost interest in building things and a Dad still kicking himself.

You might say all sorts of things like, “The boy should have had thicker skin” and such. I seriously don’t think this one was about him being oversensitive. I think I truly screwed up.

The lessons for me were twofold:

1. be careful not to communicate to a boy that he can’t do ‘it’
2. be careful not to discourage a kid from a passion of theirs in any way

Sometimes kids need to be allowed to make a mess of our backyards, to risk putting a crack in our fence palings, and even to try-and-fail without being shown “how to do it properly” (especially by someone like me who really didn’t know how to do it anyway.)

Adventures in Parenting meets Freakedout Fathers

 A break from all the ups and downs of the Aldin family’s journey to fame and fortune today …

One of Katy Lee’s adventures in parenting is exploring the potentials of podcasting. Like those of Bad Dad Radio and Digital Father, I enjoy Katy’s podcast (and her writing)… so it was a very cool surprise to be invited to chat with Katy for her latest episode.

Why not pay her a visit, listen to us chat for half an hour and see if you can find an idea that helps you de-stress a little as a parent.

You can hear the podcast at Help for stressed-out parents.

My Son’s Brilliant Career … and mine…maybe…

I got a call near 5 o’clock yesterday. Casting agency. Seems a few years ago, the Lady Ninja took Youngest Son to join an agency and attend some auditions. Several hundred dollars later (money we paid, not money he received), he got no work from it and we let it slip into history.

So, yesterday this Casting Agency says, “Your son used to be registered with an agent we use. Would you like him to attend a screen test for a commercial tomorrow morning? … He’d make [insert obscene amount of cash] for the day’s shooting.”

“O … kay … I’ll ask him.”

And he wanted to go. Strangely enough.

So this morning, instead of him attending school and me working on my business, we drive 45 minutes to the screen test. A surly pre-morning-coffee lady opens the door then walks away, leaving us to find our own seats. A minute later, she walks past me where I’m sitting in the foyer (we’re first cab off the ranks), throws a clip board and a pile of forms on a table and says “You better fill in a form” (she says this to the wall, not me) and I think Well, we’re off to a great start here aren’t we?  But then, I’m a sensitive kind of guy…

I stand, grab a form from the pile, fill it in, take some measurements of my son, fill in some more of the form and place it back on the table. When I turn around there is another lady standing there, 15 years older and 1010% happier than the first girl.

“Hi!” she says to me very brightly, staring at me with an intensity that I might have enjoyed in a nightclub twenty years ago, but which leaves me a little uncomfortable today. (Where’s that grumpy girl gone?)

“Good morning,” I reply as pleasantly as I can. The rollercoaster from no-people-skills to too-much-people-skills is leaving me giddy.

“Your son’s having his screen test?” she says.

“Yes. He is.”

Gee I’m good at conversation.

“How old are you?” she asks in the same bright, you’re-the-most-important-person-in-my-world tone.

“Er. Forty … two… next week.” I give her a quizzical look.

“Would you like to go in too?”

“With my son? … Sure.” I’m perplexed at this stage. Why wouldn’t I go in with my son and make sure he’s ok? He’s 8 years old after all.

“No, would you like to screen test?”

Time stops. Me?  Pete Aldin … on TV?!!

Seems rather ridiculous (just check out my Postcards videos!), but I find myself shrugging and – affecting her bouncy tone – saying “Sure, why not!”

Did I just agree to this? …

So, a form of my own is filled out after some kind help with my measurements from a fellow stage-parent who’s just arrived. (Is my waist really that large?! Surely that’s a faulty tape measure!) and … I screen-tested alongside my son.

Who knows? We may both be in the same commercial! Father and son together on video. Following in the footsteps of Donald and Kiefer, Kirk and Michael, Martin and Charlie, Darth Vader and Luke …

Well. I’ll let you know how it goes.

But when it comes to the beginning of my screen career, I’m not holding my breath.

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