Showing posts with label Feminism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Feminism. Show all posts

Sunday, 15 May 2011

Swimming for Slimming

Saturday mornings, we try to get Maia's beach body in shape at swimming classes. Leah was kinda round when she was the same age, but lost the puppy fat as soon as she started crawling.

Maia's crawling now too, but uses this form of transport only to source food, like a pig snuffling for truffles. As one chin piles upon the next, she's gone from looking unbelievably cute to looking like a fat duck in 4 weeks. 

Good balast in the water, mind.

Katie's fine, by the way. One looking at the photos I imagine you might be worried, but she neither physically nor mentally unsound: you have to wear a swimming cap in the pool, and having forgotten hers for the 4th week in a row, was too embarrassed to borrow one again, so wore... Leah's. 

Which wasn't embarrassing at all.      

Katie, looking tops in Leah's swimming cap, points towards the camera, but Maia is lost
either in the memory of breakfast, or in the daydream of the post-swimming snack.  
It was all fun and games until we realised Maia had
eaten the 'missing' floation ball.   
The teacher uses her training to locate the missing ball.
"¡Está adentro de la panza famosa de Maia!" she cries. 
Using Zen Buddhism, and the distraction of an awesome hat, Katie calms Maia...
... and with great skill, administers the baby Heimlich manuevre! 
Y aca está! There it is...   

Seriously, I wasn't allowed to use the embarrassing swimwear photos. Imagine... 

Saturday, 15 August 2009

Feminism, What Did I Ever Do To You?


Time was, a long time ago, when a man would return from work, remove his hat and winkle pickers, his wife would take his coat, assure him that the children were in bed, offer him a whisky and tell him that his dinner was in the oven, when would he like it served?

Well, if my weekend was anything to go by, those times are dead, and a long long way in the past.
At around 730am last Sunday morning, I was slumped at a breakfast table in a beautiful old estancia house in the Argentine campo, with 7 loud, lovely, sprightly chocolate cereal eating children, and 3 jaded, dishevelled coffee drinking Dads, whose 3 respective wives had crawled into bed about 2 hours earlier, last seen at 530am. So it was that we served the kids their breakfasts, brought rounds of coffee, spoke in monosyllables, took turns by the warmth of the stove, and slagged off the legacy of the feminist movement: Drunken Mums.

And we talked of the golden days of yore. But thinking that we were fabricating a history that never was, I could not help but Google the original text: How To Please Your Husband, 1950. You will not believe the following. If you're a better man than me, you'll print this and pin it to the fridge.

Excerpt from a 1950s Home Economics Textbook
Compiled by Ms. Leslie Blankship (Thanks, Leslie)

Have dinner ready: Plan ahead even the night before to have a delicious meal on time. This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they come home and the prospects of a good meal are part of the warm welcome needed.

Prepare yourself: Take 15 minutes to rest so you will be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your makeup, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people. Be a little gay and a little more interesting. His boring day may need a lift.

Clear away the clutter: Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives, gathering up school books, toys, paper, etc. Then run a dust cloth over the tables. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift, too.

Prepare the children: Take a few minutes to wash the children's hands and faces (if they are small), comb their hair, and if necessary, change their clothes. They are little treasures and he would like to see them playing the part.

Minimize all noise: At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of washer, dryer, dishwasher, or vacuum. Try to encourage the children to be quiet. Be happy to see him. Greet him with a warm smile and be glad to see him. Some don'ts: Don't greet him with problems or complaints. Don't complain if he's late for dinner. Count this as minor compared with what he might have gone through that day.

Make him comfortable: Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or suggest he lie down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him. Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soft soothing and pleasant voice. Allow him to relax-unwind.

Listen to him: You may have a dozen things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first.

Make the evening his: Never complain if he does not take you out to dinner or to other places of entertainment. Instead, try to understand his world of strain and pressure, his need to be home and relax.

The goal: Try to make your home a place of peace and order where your husband can renew himself in body and spirit.

Editor's note:
Warning: do NOT try this at home.