Family Fly-By-Nighters April 10, 2011

The Sister (aka The Stylist) and the Brother-in-law (aka The Builder Philosopher) zoomed through late on Thursday night on their way to a wedding in Bourke.  On their Sunday return it was The Stylist's birthday and we intended to celebrate it in child-free style (The Nephew having been shipped off to an alternate grandparent for the weekend). 

This was the plan: Picking olives at The Parents' house in the sunny Autumn afternoon.  Dappled leaves, warm sun, the tree overhanging with olives...

This was the reality: Freezing cold rain, muddy slopes, a slippery ladder, wet branches springing out of reach and, in my case, a lengthy slide in the mud.

At least the hot showers afterwards were fantastic!  As was the dinner.  Home-grown lamb with jacket potatoes and pumpkin and chickpea salad (much yummier than it sounds) followed by pannacotta with home-grown stewed apple (the 2 apples from my year-old apple tree).

We had a lovely night of music and chat.  However, while it was delightful to have adult time with The Stylist and The Builder Philosopher without distracting interruptions from The Nephew, his absence did deprive me of my life's greatest joy:  Telling Parents What They're Doing Wrong.

As all my childless* friends will know, it is one of life's great ironies that those without children are far more qualified to parent than those who are actual parents.  Without all our time being clogged up with nappy changing and time-outs, we have time to do all the things necessary to actually be a parent.  Like watching ten years of Dr Phil.  Not to mention the 4 years of Psychology that concentrated mainly on child development and rats.  And really, what is the difference between a rat and an 8-year old?  It's all reward schedules and behavioural shaping as far as I can see.  Parents keep telling anyone who'll listen how exhausted, sleep-deprived and poor they are.  You wouldn't let them operate a chainsaw but they're allowed to control (often multiple) small humans in hazardous situations (like shopping centre carparks).

Clearly if you look at any human being under 18 and ask who are the two people on the planet with the least information about them, the fewest qualifications regarding their operation and the least energy to do anything about it... yep, their parents.

And the most informed, qualified, energetic and interested... their favourite aunt!  Who owns cattle.  And a dog.  If you can get 1000 kilos of heaving animal to enthusiastically embrace the delights of a less enticing paddock, you can get a kid to eat breakfast.

Though I'm still puzzled as to why my excellent and constant advice is not met with more grateful appreciation by the parents involved...

Anyhow, in the absence of The Nephew, The Stylist had time to plant her birthday present.

It is a truth not universally acknowledged that a Cattle Baroness in possession of a tree-less front yard must be in want of a windbreak.  What better way to acheive this than to present those celebrating milestones (birthdays, anniversaries, visitors, just people driving by) with a small tree, a plot and a spade. 

Much digging, mulching, planting, wartering and tree-guarding later I (I mean they) have their very own tree.

Everyone's a winner.

The Stylist and her Birthday Eucalypt

And with prizes for Stoic Olive-Picking, Intellectual Dinner Chat, Excellent Musicianship, Tree Planting Despite Discouraging Conditions and Leaving The Nephling at Home, The Stylist and The Builder Philosopher are so far leaders of the pack in the Best Guest 2011 - Family Section.

* There has to be a more appropriate term than 'Childless', which implies something lacking.  Instead of something '-less' maybe something '-more'.  Time-More people.  Money-More people.  Those Whose Taxes Subsidise The Kids of Others.  Or maybe just ... Readers.