I hope everybody enjoyed Star Wars Day and Free Comic Book Day over the weekend! We did and we also enjoyed something else too. The main person to blame about anything concerning New Zealand’s 5th least favourite website just celebrated his 10th wedding anniversary. And for those of you not keeping up, that’s me, by the way.
I’ll be honest with you about something. Celebrating 10 years of married life wasn’t something I ever thought I was capable of doing, let alone getting married in the first place! Seriously.
So what is it like being married for 10 years? Is it good, bad or somewhere in between? Before I begin, I’m talking about this from a male’s perspective, but some of these observations can easily be transferred to females as well.
You listen to the same stories your spouse tells new people and pretend you’ve never heard them before. And vice versa.
You can’t remember what you gave to your spouse for their birthday and anniversary, for the last four years.
Your spouse has an instant recall of a conversation you had with them five years ago, but you can’t remember what you had for dinner last night.
You can trust your spouse to order takeaways on your behalf and get the order 95% correct.
Your house is littered with half-finished projects that you or your spouse have started and then abandoned for different reasons.
Your spouse knows your sleeping habits better than you.
Because you’re a one-income family, you save money by having your spouse give you and your children the same haircut.
You and your spouse have an unofficial rule of swapping the “good parent, bad parent” routine around when dealing with your children.
When you or your spouse mention an ex’s name that has not been discussed before, the mood in the room changes.
Any form of competition between you and your spouse must be handled with respect and fairly. No Monopoly!
Your spouse seems to know where everything is in the house, except their belongings.
You and your spouse have different chores that you do around your home, so when your spouse does one of yours, your brain wants to shut down because it can’t compute what’s just happened.
When you’ve made your signature dinner meal, and your spouse politely mentions that it’s the 18th time that month, that you have made that exact meal.
The amazing music you played at your wedding, is now mall/supermarket background music.
You both have different ways to fold the washing; which you argue over, but you never want to fold the washing alone.
If someone other than your spouse flirts with you, you don’t even register it.
Gaslighting your spouse is either extremely funny, brave or dangerous.
Looking back at photos of your wedding, makes you rage because you and your spouse look so refreshed and young.
You still make rookie mistakes with your children, after your spouse has pointed it out.
You and your spouse can be each other’s translators in new social situations.
If you or your spouse have taken the wedding ring off for whatever reason, you’re reminded in a semi-friendly way to put it back on.
Occasionally my wife reads these posts, so I need to tread carefully. So in case she does read this, I think being married for 10 years is wonderful!
Have you been married for 10 years or more? Have I missed any observations? As always, please let me know.
That’s another post for another week. Thanks again for reading, following, and subscribing to Some Geek Told Me. Don’t forget to walk your dog, read a banned book, go Phoenix FC, and I’ll see you next week because the Tour of the Solar System is crawling back again!
2024 is here and Some Geek Told Me is back with weekly blogs about…stuff! To start my first incoherent rant of the year, I thought I would talk about an event that is happening at the end of the month: UMC2 is starting primary school.
In New Zealand, children don’t have to start school until they are six years old. When they turn six, they need to be registered in some educational institute; whether it’s a primary school, home school, or something else. Having said that, the majority of children in Aotearoa start school when they turn five years old.
Because of this, UMC2 will be starting school at 5½, just like UMC1 did, three years ago. This brings us to the point of the blog: my youngest son is starting primary school, but it’s the last time for my family.
I’ll admit, I have conflicting feelings about UMC2 going to school; I really do. To break this down, let’s discuss UMC2. He’s so excited about going to school, that at one point, he was trying to convince us that he should start school in UMC1’s 2023 class, “…because I’m smarter than him.”
He’s had three visits to his classroom, but he’s been doing drop-offs and pick-ups, along with school trips for three years now, so he’s very familiar and comfortable with the school. He’s also having UMC1’s first teacher, so he already knows her, which has helped with his transition.
On the other side, UMC2 is slightly nervous about being bullied and making friends at school; which I don’t blame him. It’s been somewhat heartbreaking listening to him when he’s mentioning that he hopes no one will bully him. This is because UMC2 treats other children like they are already great friends, and I wish I could be like that.
We can’t promise UMC2 that he won’t get bullied, so we’ve been just trying to give him the best tools to help himself; mainly talking to the teacher, and having confidence in himself.
UMC2 is proud of his school uniform, as it was pieced together from UMC1’s old uniform and some new clothes. He’s excited about school, and has a strong belief in himself, along with loving to learn new things; provided they’re about marine biology, Star Wars, and anatomy.1
So what about us? Well, I’m not going to discuss my wife’s feelings and thoughts; she can do that herself. For me though, well, I’m a box of crazy cats.
I’m excited and proud that he’s feeling positive about school, but I’m still worried. To bring some context into this conversation, and if you didn’t already know, I’m 9½ years older than my wife. This means, I got married and became a father, later than the average male in my country.
For the longest time, I thought I would never have children. The opportunity seemed to get smaller and smaller after each year, and now that I have two unmatured clones in my house, it sometimes feels a little surreal, but amazing at the same time.
It’s also not lost on me that we are entering a new chapter with UMC1 and UMC2. That being the case, I’m overwhelmed with the desire to try and be healthier. Time doesn’t stop, and since I’ll be older than a lot of the other parents of children in UMC2’s class, I need to make changes so I can still help and watch them both grow and develop through school. In theory, of course.
Added to that, we had a home delivery with UMC2, so through my eyes, it was like 10 months ago, that I caught him as he was being born. I was the first person in the world to hold him, and now he’s getting ready for school. Einstein was right, and of course he was right, I mean he’s Einstein, but time really is relative.
To me, it feels like I’ve blinked and our newborn baby boy has disappeared and been replaced with a school-age child who likes dismantling Lego, and discussing viruses, squids, and the motivations for General Grievous and the Riddler.
There will be no more preschoolers in our house anymore, but that’s ok. I’m not the first parent to have sentimental ideas about their youngest child starting school, and I’m sure I won’t be the last. I know this year, UMC2 will have some highs and lows at school, however, and just like Sheryl Crow, I just want him to have some fun.
Is your youngest child at school now? How did you handle it? Better than me, probably. As always, please let me know. Ok, that’s another rant for another week. Next week, I’ll be previewing Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom, because you know…I’m a geek.
Thank you for reading, following, and subscribing to Some Geek Told Me. Please don’t forget to walk your dog, read a banned book, adopt a pet from a shelter, and I’ll see you next week.
This glorious blog has discussed some pretty strange things over the last three years, by peeling back some of my layers of geekdom. Yes, some of those layers are rotten, slimy, and overripe, but occasionally, there is something personal. I was planning on discussing this blog last Christmas, but the FIFA World Cup got in my way; not that I’m complaining. I mean, it’s a World Cup.
Considering Christmas is next week, it’s time to discuss the big fat red man in the room. Not, I don’t mean Fat Albert; I want to talk to you about Santa Claus and why he doesn’t visit our house.
My wife and I disagree about a lot of things, such as Sour Cream and Chives, corn, Rambo, musicals, socks in the bed, vampires, time travel, and the correct level of dodginess for our corner shop. However, there is something we both agree on; our mutual dislike of Santa Claus.
The crux of this blog is this: As parents, we do not advocate or promote Santa Claus, his flying reindeer, or his merry workshop of happy elves.
Credit: Oren neu dag
That’s a bold and unorthodox statement from a couple raising two children, aged 8 and 5 years old. Before I continue though, I need to point out two things that are quite important to our family:
1.) My wife’s birthday is 24th December, so if you’re keeping score, you would realise that’s Christmas Eve.
2.) My wife and I are not perfect parents. We have never claimed that we are, nor will we ever be. I spend too much money on pizza for that, and we also don’t have all the answers.
So, what’s the deal? Are we Grinches? No. Are we hard-core religious nuts? No. Don’t we celebrate Christmas? Yes, we do, just not Santa Claus.
I’ll try to explain, so if you’re a parent of young children, I hope this makes sense.
My wife and I believe in truism for raising our children. This means we try to explain real information and facts about the world, in ways that are age appropriate to them. This can cover diseases, politics, sports, blood, pollution, movies, books, and many more. Basically, we teach the truth about the world to UMC1 and UMC2, in ways that they can understand, considering their different ages.
As they become older, we give them more information and facts. For every question they ask, we give them an answer they can understand. Ultimately, it comes down to this: we don’t lie to our children.
This of course brings us to Santa Claus. As parents who deal with teaching children the truth about the world, are we really going to teach them that Santa Claus is real?! It goes against the foundation of our parenting; we don’t lie to our children, we teach the truth. It sounds heavy and intense, but surprise, surprise, it’s the truth.
Alright, what’s the harm in lying to children about Santa Claus? It’s all about them believing in the magical time of Christmas, so what’s wrong with that? That’s a great question, so I’ll give you a great answer.
I want you to imagine two scenarios. The first scenario is to imagine you’re one of your children, and through whatever means or methods, they learn the truth about Santa Claus. Every child’s reaction is different, but let’s imagine your child has an epiphany: they realise that not only have their uncles, aunties, grandparents, teachers, coaches, cousins, neighbours, doctors, and nurses, have been lying to them, but their parents have as well.
It means the people they are supposed to trust most in the world, have been lying to them their entire life. It also means, that if your child is smart enough to come to this conclusion, then they may start to think about what else have you been lying to them about.
We don’t lie to UMC1 and UMC2 about Santa Claus, because of many reasons. One is that we don’t want them to ever think that a large man in a red suit, that lives at the top of the world, is watching and evaluating their behaviour, through the use of cameras and spies; but also judging them to be worthy of receiving his presents.
Another reason is about the long game. If we are truthful with the boys now and have built up a level of trust between us, then as teenagers or young adults, they will hopefully trust us. If things have gone bad somewhere in their lives, we want them to feel comfortable enough to tell us anything, but that only happens with trust.
With the second scenario, imagine your child has asked for a remote-controlled car or a real horse from Santa, but on Christmas Day, they discover they received a Matchbox car or a My Little Pony. Ok, kids can’t always get what they want for Christmas, but some kids do.
Now imagine your child discovering that their cousin received a jet ski for Christmas, or their neighbour received a real horse as a Christmas present. When asked, how would you explain to your children why Santa would give more expensive gifts to other children, but not to them? Why is he rewarding other children? How would you stop your children from thinking that maybe Santa hates them, or that they’re bad children? Children aren’t stupid, they notice and remember what other children get for Christmas.
So how do we handle Christmas? It’s easy, we tell the truth. We have explained that Santa Claus is a game that some people and families play at Christmas time. We’ve pointed out that Santa is not real, but it’s not our right to ruin the game for other people and children. If other families want to play the Santa Game, they are allowed to, but we don’t need to.
UMC1 and UMC2 know that the Christmas presents they will be receiving will be purchased by us; not because they have been showing good behaviour, but because we love them and respect them enough, not to lie to them. Regardless of their behaviour, they’re still going to get presents from us, because we love and appreciate them.
We’ve been a one-income family for eight years now, but when UMC1 and UMC2 make Christmas lists, they don’t list the things they want to receive; they list the things they want to give other people.
If it’s a Christmas list for my wife, UMC1, UMC2 and I will discuss her interests and presents that she might like. They enjoy Christmas shopping and making things for people, because we have tried so hard to make Christmas about appreciating the people we love, and giving them gifts. Again, children aren’t stupid, because both my boys know they are getting presents, no matter what; and each one has chosen a present for the other one.
We also treat Christmas like a Christmas office party, where we give presents to each other, and to say well done; thank you for all of your hard teamwork this year, and we appreciate you.
I hope this makes sense. Anyway, upon hearing about our anti-Santa stance, people react in different ways. Sometimes they react like you’ve shown them a giant tattoo of a dead baby on your chest; for other people, it’s like they’re hearing a foreign language and they don’t know what to think or say.
And of course, some people, mainly parents and grandparents of young children react just a tad on the negative side. People mainly accuse us of stealing the joy from our children or ruining the magic of Christmas.
Personally, I find this hilarious, because we have taught the boys that there is magic in the world, and it can be found through education and just by living. Like the magic of understanding cephalopods; volcanoes; the immune system; superheroes; magnets; observing insects; building and working with Lego; Star Wars; watching our favourite teams win; rocket launches; or simply eating pizza, while watching one of their favourite movies. I think you can find magic anywhere with children, I just don’t believe that you have to lie to them to find it.
Advocating and promoting Santa Claus works for many families around the world, and that’s alright. It’s just not for us, and it never will be.
If you have young children, do you celebrate Santa Claus? Does anybody agree with me about kicking Santa to the curb? As always, please let me know.
Since next Monday is Christmas Day, I’ll be posting a much shorter blog. My aim this week is to spend extra time with UMC1 and UMC2, but also to catch up on work from my real job that pays the bills, and allows me to purchase pizzas.
Thank you once again for reading, following, and subscribing to Some Geek Told Me. Please don’t forget to walk your dog, read a banned book, watch Scrooged this week, and I’ll see you on Christmas Day.
I want to talk about UMC2. Why? For the people that already know, please just humour me. For those that don’t know, I have two sons, and I refer to them on this blog as UMC1 and UMC2, which stands for Unmatured Clone 1, and Unmatured Clone 2. The running joke is that my wife and I only make clones of myself, hence UMC1 and UMC2.
Sweet? Awesome, I’ll continue. UMC2 recently turned 5 years old, and I feel a bit like Charybdis, but with feelings and hormones. He’s my baby boy, and now he’s five. So I’m left with a question: What does this mean? The short answer is that I don’t know. The long answer is a little more complicated, as you would expect.
Traditionally in New Zealand, a child would start primary school when they turned 5 years old, but legally they don’t need to start until 6 years old; or at least enrolled some where to receive a primary education, like home school. UMC2 is starting primary school in the 1st term of 2024, but that is a blog for another day.
The point that I’m badly trying to make, is that UMC2 is now old enough to go to school. I can’t speak for any other father; or at least another parent, but it’s a surreal notion to know that my baby boy is old enough to do that.
Both UMC1 and UMC2 make me feel old; especially UMC2, which isn’t that hard, to be honest. Growing up, my home phone number was just four digits long and $1’s worth of 1¢ lollies could send you into a sugar coma. Now days, I feel you need a second mortgage, just to go to the supermarket. We didn’t have multiple streaming services either, we had a VCR and two tv channels.
Anyway, Einstein was right; because of course he was, that time is relative. The last five years experienced by me, have gone extremely quickly. I remember the day UMC2 was born, because we had a home birth and the midwife suggested that I could catch him; though technically we didn’t know his gender during pregnancy. As my wife gave birth to him, I did my best wicketkeeper impression, and caught him with two hands. I was the first person to hold UMC2, which is a truth that will never leave me. Excuse me for a few moments, because my eyes are starting to leak.
Thanks for waiting. I better change the direction of the rant, before I start sobbing and gushing again. My mind wanders a lot, particularly about UMC2’s future. What will it look like? Where will he live? Will he have the opportunity to use a hoverboard, even though it’s currently 7 years behind schedule? Will he marry? Will I be at the wedding? Would I be invited to the wedding?
I can see UMC2 as a teenager explaining a new piece of technology to me, which to him is basic; but to me, I’ll need an university degree to understand it. New lexicon, fashion and pop culture will have to be explained to me, so I hope UMC2 will be patient with…Let’s be honest, that boy will have no patience for his old man. None.
UMC2 is similar to his older brother, but still very different. What works for UMC1, can and will not work for UMC2; but that’s ok. Whatever life lessons UMC1 taught me about being a parent, UMC2 is adding to them. Granted the lessons will be delivered with the washing basket on their head, along with a newly created ripped up cardboard collection, and a treasure box; which is a small yellow plastic box filled with broken items.
Ultimately, I don’t mourn the fact there are technically no preschoolers in my house now. There’s just a new level of shenanigans from two school aged children. Additionally, for recent UMC1 and UMC2 misadventures, there are blogs about my review of their restaurant, and creating a Lego family.
Have you ever had conflicting feelings, when your youngest child turned 5 years old? Please let me know.
Sorry if this blog was a bit odd, but I just needed to empty my mind of this topic, and fill it with things, like rugby and football scores, the politics of Count Binface, and designing the next fort to make in the lounge. Also the FIFA World Cup 2023 starts in under a month, with Australia and New Zealand co-hosting the tournament. Make sure you watch some games!
Thanks once again for reading, following, and subscribing to Some Geek Told Me. Remember to walk your dog; read a banned book; beware supermarket check out operators that actually talk to you, and I’ll see you next week.
I want to talk about Lego. Why? Lego is very popular with our family. My wife, UMC1 and UMC2 are great fans of the Danish construction blocks. My wife has her Harry Potter, Hobbit and Star Wars sets proudly on display, while the boys have a small tub of their Lego sets, which can only be described as utter carnage.
Over 75% of their sets have taken apart, cannablised and repurposed. Do you remember Sid Phillips from Toy Story, and his creepy toys? Picture them in your mind’s eye, but now I need you to change them from mashed up hybrid toys to mashed up hybrid Lego, and that would be UMC1 and UMC2’s Lego collection.
If you think that is scary, I can go one better; their Lego is slowly colonising the house. First it was the tub, then the Lego moved to their shared bedside cabinet, then the drawers, the bookshelves, the wooden games box, the kitchen table, and finally, they have started colonising our bedroom.
Our Lego family
Like I said before, the three of them love Lego and take pride in their creations. As for me, I don’t own any Lego. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. Recently, UMC1’s school held a fundraising event centred around Lego. There were many different activities you could do, however the one I’m going to mention was Build Your Own Figure.
Upon learning about the event, we decided that we would think about going. When we discovered that you could build your own Lego figure, my family suddenly started channelling Emperor Palpatine; because they quickly told me that we were 100% going now, followed by three different maniacal forms of laughter. The idea was that when we played with Lego together, we could also use our new Lego figures.
I didn’t own any Lego, so I thought it could be satisfying to build my own Lego figure. Now this was my mistake; I assumed we would be making a Lego figure of our own choosing. However, what I discovered was that 50% of our family were going to make a Lego figure of themselves, while the other 50% were going to make something original and crazy.
Unknown to myself, my wife and UMC1 had spent the time leading up to the event, thinking about what their Lego figure was going to look like. This meant mentally cataloging different Lego body parts, that they could possibly use to construct a Lego version of themselves. They donated hours and hours thinking and planning about their possible creations.
I call this, The Batman Syndrome, because of the amount of designs and back-up plans they both had. The funny thing is that my wife and UMC1, both did not discuss their plans with each other or anybody else.
If you’ve been following my blog for some time, you’ll realise I would not drop a Batman reference without a special reason; and you would be correct. If my wife and UMC1 were Team Batman…well, UMC2 and I were Team Joker. We had the Joker Syndrome, because we were both looking forward to building our Lego figure, but unlike the other two, UMC2 and myself spent no time thinking about possible combinations or designs. I seriously only started thinking about the figure’s design, when we were lining for it.
You were allowed to have: 1 x head, 1 x torso (with arms) 1 x set of legs, 1 x some sort of head wear like a hat, helmet or hair, and 1 x accessory. While waiting in line, my wife and UMC1 were going over the selections they could now see and were busy redesigning their Lego figures in their mind. UMC2 and myself on the other hand, were not doing that.
Eventually it was our turn to build. I searched through the heads, thinking there had to be something cool and I was right; I chose a head that looked like it was wearing a Saiyan scouter. The face did look quite feminine, but I didn’t care, I wanted that Saiyan scouter! For the torso, I selected some type of red ninja armour, on the basis that it was easily different from the others. As for the legs, it was just pure dumb luck that I selected the set that matched the torso.
My Lego figure
For the head wear, I selected an Irish cap, because….why not? It looked amazing and this Lego figure was ready for some craic. The last part was the accessory, so I went for a blaster that had three settings on the top of it. My blaster could fire ice cream, spaghetti and custard. I did this, because I knew UMC2 would find it funny.
It was at this point that my wife asked me what I was doing. I thought this was a strange question, considering everything; however my Spidey-Sense was going off, so I knew something was wrong.
It was at this point that the truth was shown to me. My wife’s Lego figure had blue trousers and a green torso. Her favourite colour is green, plus she wears a blue necklace, just like her Lego figure. She also found some black hair to match her own; as well as a happy face and a coffee cup. My wife needs and survives on coffee. She was extremely proud of her Lego figure.
My wife in Lego form
UMC1’s favourite colour is red, so he dressed his Lego figure with red legs and a red torso. He also found some brown hair to match his own, and a four scooped ice cream, because….yes, he likes ice cream.
UMC1 in Lego form
As for UMC2, his favourite colour is yellow, hence why his Lego figure is yellow. However, he chose green hair, because he said it looked liked the Joker’s hair and he is all about supervillains currently. His Lego figure has a blank face, because he explained that he didn’t want anybody knowing what his Lego figure was looking at. 4 year old logic, it’s the best in the world! UMC2 also added a phone to his figure. The reason was because he didn’t have a phone in his apocalyptic collection, and he wanted one.
UMC2’s Lego figure
So there you have it. Two of us took the activity very seriously and based their Lego figures on themselves, while the other two just made crazy creations. A psychologist would find this very fascinating!
Team Batman
Team Joker
The hilarious thing is that UMC2 has claimed my Lego figure, because he wanted our two Lego figures to be together.
And that’s it for this week. I need to watch Last Week Tonight, so I’m out of here! Thanks for reading, walk your dog, stay away from Sour Cream and Chives, and I’ll see you next week.
I want to talk about catchphrases. Why? My family uses a few of them for different reasons, like the Penguin does with his umbrellas. Some are funny, while others are very practical in nature; though they are not exclusively used by my wife and I, we all know what they mean.
This gem came from my late mother-in-law. It refers to when there was a ruckus on the farm, the farmer would try to calm the situation down.
We break it out when UMC1 and/or UMC2 are becoming too loud, too excited, or when they’re fighting over some extremely important reason; like someone ate more chips than the other one; so we say, “Calm the farm, guys, calm the farm.”
2.) Team Indy
As some of you know, our dog is called Indy. We often joke about how our team was formed, basically like our origin story. First there was Indy, then he decided that living with my future wife was a good idea. The two of them went on a recruitment drive for a new team member, and I was asked to join. The three of us then added two more members to the team, thus giving us a team of five.
But what is the name of your team, Scott? Easy, we named it after the original team member.
The catchphrase is like a rallying cry in a way. Sometimes when a team member is having a bad day or when things have gone worse than Edward Scissorhands visiting the Museum of Paper, we try and regroup and remind ourselves, “Hey everything is going to be alright, we can do it. We’re Team Indy!”
3.) Toilet Drama
Toilet drama is what my wife and I call all of the arguments and negative experiences, surrounding UMC1 and UMC2 going to the toilet. Whether it’s about a roll of toilet paper being pulled off onto the floor; the stool being kicked over; denial of needing to go to the toilet, when they obviously need to go; or not washing their hands aka dunny hands; as well as everything else not mentioned.
If there is any drama connected to the toilet, then it’s Toilet drama; and we DON’T do Toilet drama.
4.) Roasty Toasty
This is an easy one, because it’s all about being warm and snug. Roasty Toasty is a catchphrase we say to UMC1 and UMC2, when we are putting them to bed; especially during late Autumn, Winter and early Spring.
The boys sleep in the same room and since the house is over 110 years old, it can get extremely cold. So when the boys go to sleep, we make sure they’re wearing winter pyjamas and several blankets, so they will be; and say it with me, Roasty Toasty.
5.) Being a Master
Firstly, this is not a Doctor Who reference, though that would be pretty cool. What I’m talking about, is giving the boys a job, where they can be the master of something. It sounds odd, but I’ll give some examples.
Say I need some help putting out or bringing in the rubbish and recycling bins. Asking if there was a Bin Master to help, will get a far more positive response from UMC1 and UMC2 than anything else. Other masters include: Washing Master, Shoes Master, Plate Master, Vacuum Master, Trolley Master, Lego Master, Duplo Master, Tidying-up Master, and the ultimate master this family has; the Biscuit Master.
Each week, some new Team Indy member becomes the Biscuit Master; which means they are the Master of Biscuits. They get to select the biscuits from the supermarket, regardless of any other person’s preference. We work on a rotation system, so since a new Biscuit Master is chosen each week, and UMC1 and UMC2 take this job EXTREMELY seriously.
6.) Kick in the guts
This is a classic catchphrase from my father-in-law; Kick in the guts. So, there is no stomach kicking involved here, just some oddly placed words. Kick in the guts means to wind something up or to finish something. We mainly use it when we are getting the boys ready for bed. After they’ve had some books or done a puzzle or drawn some art or played a board game, and all that’s left is to brush their teeth and go to bed; well, then it’s time to Kick in the guts.
We also use it when it’s time to tidy up; finish getting ready in the morning; or when it’s time to leave somewhere and go home. It’s time to Kick in the guts.
Does your family have any special catchphrases? If you do, what are they? Please let me know. Right, I’ll off to watch Doctor Who: The Power of the Doctor, with my wife because we’re geeks. Thanks for following me, read some banned books, place your bets on the next UK Prime Minister, and I’ll see you next week for my Black Adam review.
I want to talk about living in a society that has moved past COVID-19 and what it looks like. This could have been achieved through the use of magic, time travel, or just good old science. There are many countries that have come out of the other side of COVID-19, while others are still battling and fighting to keep their country afloat.
On 13th September 2022, the New Zealand Government scrapped the COVID-19 Protection Framework (traffic lights system), and on 28th September 2022, the last government vaccine mandates ended for health and disability workers.
It’s only been a few weeks, but what is life like now in Aotearoa New Zealand? Having given COVID-19 a flying kick in the face, along with an atomic elbow, how is our society responding to the lifting of vaccine and mask mandates? How are we progressing on getting back to normality?
My incoherent and insane observations are based on things that I have seen, hear, or read about in the last few weeks, whether it’s local or national. Whether this information is positive, negative, or in the middle…I’ll let you be the judge for that.
So without further ado, I will get straight to the matter. I will not be farting around discussing matters that are not important to the topic. Delaying this message will not help anybody; there will no procrastination here. I want to be direct with my information, so there will be no ambiguity or vagueness. Dithering, prolonging, or dawdling with this content, would be extremely unproductive and inefficient. I will not be dragging my feet, giving the you runaround, or shilly-shallying; there’s no way I would ever do that to you. No way; I would never waste your time…wait, what was I talking about?!
How Aotearoa New Zealand is adjusting to Post-COVID life
The Anti-Vaxxers are still proclaiming the pandemic was fake, because a.) they never were infected or b.) they were infected, but they had little to no symptoms.
Children’s illnesses like chicken pox; measles; hand, foot and mouth; and school sores have returned. This is because after two years, the public have forgotten every single lesson COVID-19 taught us.
Some candidates in local regional council elections are promoting their anti-vaxx, anti-mask and climate change denying beliefs; while some are trying to hide these beliefs.
Interest rates, supply chain issues, food and petrol prices are increasing; but house prices, community health measures, and the public’s support of the All Blacks are decreasing.
Since the death of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, the concept of New Zealand becoming a republic, has been an increasing topic of conversation at the water cooler, dinner table, and at the pub.
Wearing a face mask in public has gone from being viewed as idiotic, to heroic, and back to being idiotic again.
Some businesses and companies have removed their plastic barriers, centred on interactions with the public; while others are committed to keeping them, to protect their staff.
Many extroverts across the country are now having a “livin’ la vida loca” lifestyle, while many introverts are remaining home, because they feel unsafe.
Regardless of gender, ages, and codes, some team sports are finding it difficult to field players, because people don’t want to be around other people. However individual sports are booming, especially hiking, surfing, biking, running, swimming, tennis, and golf.
Jehovah’s Witness are back knocking on doors. When I met the two guys at my house, they were so excited to be back talking to the public, that I talked to them for 15 minutes before letting them down.
And this is not even diving into the unemployment, domestic violence, youth suicide, crime, or mental health statistics.
On a brighter note, we are hosting the 2021 Rugby World Cup, from 8th October to 12th November. It features the 12 best women’s rugby teams on the planet…but because of COVID-19, the tournament was delayed a year, and the games are only being played in three stadiums; two in Auckland and one in Whangarei, which are all near the top of the country. It would take me some time to hitchhike there.
I’m not sure what else to say about this; somehow New Zealand is better off, and equally, worse off because of surviving COVID-19. The biggest change for me is the number of conspiracy groups that were on the fringe of society, are now nearly mainstream. It’s the realisation that a family friend is an Anti-Vaxxer, or your barber is an Anti-Masker.
There are some deep lines of division in this odd little country, that I fear will we never really be able reconcile. It’s a hell of a thing to listen to people that you admire and respect, start discussing conspiracy theories about climate change, vaccines, masks, and anything else. Somehow, I think COVID-19 has emboldened them, like taken away their fear of sounding crazy. But that could be another blog for another day.
The new House of the Dragon episode is up, so I need to watch it before I read spoilers. I’m stupid and read too many things I shouldn’t. Thanks for reading my little project, walk your dog, read some banned books and I’ll see you next week.
I want to talk about the school holidays, in particular surviving them. Why? Would you like to take a guess?
Term 3 of the school year has started today for thousands of children across the country, here in New Zealand. They are going back to school, after coming off a nice relaxing two week holiday. They have enjoyed swimming at the beach, having water fights, and eating ice cream to cool off; is what you would say if it was the Summer/Christmas holidays.
We have not just had those holidays. Oh no, the school holidays the kids have just experienced have been in the middle of Winter. You know, the rain, the cold, the snow, gloves, beanies, and puffer jackets. That Winter.
Now before I go any further, this is not me complaining about spending time with UMC1 and UMC2. That’s not it at all. This is all about, “It’s freezing, it’s been raining for five straight days, the kids are fighting again, so how do I survive the holidays, without using alcohol?” That is a very interesting question.
The Winter school holidays are brutal, seriously, they’re really mean. And it’s not just one factor that creates this carnage. A lot of charming things all add up to this sanity breaking experience.
Let’s set the scene in the Some Geek Told Me house, shall we? Our house is very small. I feel extremely bad for people entering it for the first time, and believing they have entered a very large walk-in wardrobe. I have to shatter that image and explain that what they’re looking at, is exactly the entire house.
Because of this, they are not many places you can actually escape to in the house, that’s away from everybody else. UMC1 and UMC2 are still learning what the words alone and privacy, actually mean.
Our only heating system in the house is a log burner, which is located in the lounge, which is connected to the kitchen, because it’s basically one room. This is where we have been living, in front of the fire. Classy.
Let’s check the weather report today. What’s this?! We’re going to have a high of 6 °C today? That’s so warm, let’s have a barbeque!; say nobody ever! The horrible weather has had a huge impact on this small family.
It would be raining or having just recently rained or quite cold outside, UMC1 and UMC2 would cut their losses, and refuse to leave the house. Even at 8 am, they would basically declare, because of the weather, the day would be a write off for them.
Their arguments were that, “It’s too wet! or It’s too cold.” Even when the few times it stopping raining or became a lot warmer; nope, they were not leaving the house.
This brings us to pyjamas. After stating that they were not leaving the house for the day, this meant UMC1 and UMC2 would be staying in their pyjamas. For the whole day. It puts all of your parenting skills to the test, to convince your children to change out of their pyjamas, knowing you’re going to fail, like Superman under a red sun.
11 am, 12 pm, 1 pm, 2 pm, and on it would march. We would feel defeated some days, knowing the boys never left the house, or never changed out of their pyjamas. On other days however, jobs had to be done outside in the big, wide, scary world.
An example of an upcoming disaster would be going to the supermarket. You’re running out of food, so you try to convince the kids to go with you. Their answer is no, because, well of course it’s going to be no. They’re too busy playing with Lego or fighting, to go to the supermarket.
That would mean leaving the house or worse, changing into regular clothes! So we did whatever a normal parent does: we offered bribes. Some Kinder chocolate here, a McDonalds hash brown there, or hot chips everywhere! Anything to leave the house, even to drive to the port and back!
After being cooped up in our tiny house because of the weather, with no escape from anybody, you just wanted to leave and see the outside world. And if you needed to bribe the kids to do it, well, you would never be judged by me.
Sometimes their response was basically, “What’s in it for us?” Unbelievable. Of course, they would always accept the bribe, but they would tease you a little bit. How far can we push Mum and Dad, before they break forever?
I had mentioned something previously, but I need to expand on it. Because of the cruddy weather, we have been inside a lot. Cramped conditions added to terrible weather, equals fighting.
Should we spin the Wheel of Misfortune to reveal what the children will be fighting about for the next four minutes?
Will be it be because UMC1 touched UMC2’s bed?
Will be it be because UMC2 looked at UMC1’s robot?
Will be it because, while sitting on the couch, UMC1 and UMC2’s elbows touched?
No, today’s answer is because someone is using someone else’s Lego!
I swear, they do actually get along. However over the last two weeks, their fighting has branched out into new fields like space on a couch, the number of crackers on a plate, the longer someone sleeps, and of course, is UMC1 or UMC2, the greatest Lego builder of all time!
On one dreary and rainy day, I mentioned to my wife that the boys had been doing really well. There had been no fighting, everybody was working together and sharing; it was awesome. I jinxed it, because UMC1 and UMC2 must have been listening, and quickly realised they needed to get their fighting quota in for the day, and promptly starting arguing about whether James was a better steam engine than Thomas.
The last two weeks have been tough and our parenting skills have been tested, failed, retested and succeeded. Anyway, how do you cope with your children during school holidays and terrible weather?
In other news, our dog injured his right front leg, while jumping up onto our bed last week. This has resulted in all of us, giving him some extra attention, which he is loving. So I’m off to rub his belly, before he starts getting angry. Thanks for reading, pat your dog, and I’ll see you next week.
I want to talk about Bluey, in particular her quintessential parents, Chilli and Bandit Heeler. Before I go any further, I feel I need to explain who and what Bluey actually is, before Mum and Dad are brought back into the picture.
Bluey, Bluey, Bluey…. I feel millions of parents around the world 1, would be able to give various explanations, impressions, confessions of love, or expletive laden statements about Bluey, but here is mine.
Bluey is an animated tv show, based on a now, seven year old Blue Heeler puppy, aptly named, Bluey. She lives her now, five year old Red Heeler sister, Bingo. The Heelers sisters have shenanigans left, right and centre, mainly through their dramatic and role playing games.
As the viewer, you get to meet their friends, cousins, uncles, aunties, grandparents, teachers, and other members of the community. To the best of my knowledge; because I have not seen every single episode, every character in the show is some type of dog.
UMC1 and UMC2 love Bluey. UMC2 has a Bluey plate and a new Bluey toothbrush, while UMC1 has a Bluey drink bottle. Recently UMC1 was told at school that Bluey is only for babies, but the four of us will sit down to watch the episodes and laugh together.
Now the nature of this particular blog is not to confession my love of the show. Remember the title of the blog? It’s time to talk about Chilli and Bandit Heeler.
Bandit, Bluey, Bingo and Chilli Heeler
Chilli is Bluey and Bingo’s mother and she also works part-time for security at an airport. She is a Red Heeler, just like Bingo; where as Bandit is a Blue Heeler, just like Bluey. Bandit is also an archaeologist, because apparently he likes to dig up bones.
So why do I hate these two cartoon dogs? Well, hate could be too strong of a word. I feel that Chilli and Bandit are some of the best parents, television has seen in a long time. The case being is that they’re too good. Their parenting skills are so excellent, that real world parents are just going to fail, when compared to Chilli and Bandit; myself included.
The biggest problem is that they somehow set completely unrealistic expectations in the real world. That’s what they do. Chilli and Bandit always have time for the girls. Now like I said before, I haven’t seen every episode, but from the few that I have seen, Bandit has only gone to work twice; but he’s always hanging about at home?!
Bandit never seems to bring work home, or attend any meetings at night; he’s just awesome. It’s the same issue for Chilli as well. She always seems to knows how to sort it out any problem, which is part of the show’s charm, because not everything goes the way it should.
I meant to point out that Bluey would be UMC1 in our house, with Bingo being UMC2. It’s also quite tragic that I find myself being enviousness of two cartoon dogs, because they seem to be far better parents than anybody!
This does make me look at what I do in the weekend, and how much I should be playing with my boys. Damn you, Chilli and Bandit!
My wife and I sit down with the boys, to watch the show with them. We laugh along with the madness, but after the episode, we will have a little talk to ourselves about how that could never be us. Chilli and Bandit are so patient, it sucks.
I fear my patience needs to be renewed every day. It’s a finite source, that somehow it’s regenerated in my sleep; but then again, I’m a parent, so I’m always tired. As soon as I wake up, my patience starts to deteriorate.
I would really like to see a Bluey episode that doesn’t have any children in it. It would just have Chilli and Bandit going about their lives, but following the utter carnage of living with children. Having a scene before the children eat breakfast in the kitchen vs what happened afterwards, would be ideal. Having lots of before and after scenes would be hilarious and would make me feel better about my own parenting.
I don’t know what else I can say, other than the show is amazing; however Bandit and Chilli, make you want to sign up for parenting courses. Oh, I forgot. We now have in our house, the brand new word, dunny. Previously, it was a toilet, but now the boys love using the word dunny, and especially, dunny hands. The word dunny, did not exist in this house until Bluey. Also wars have nearly been declared in this house, because of dunny hands. Thanks Bluey and Bingo. Cheers.
There is one slither of pleasure I do get from the show. It’s the fact I get to say, dude, a lot more often, especially to my wife; because she now calls me, bro, but only when UMC1 and UMC2 can hear. It’s their turn to roll their eyes at us.
Anyway, thanks for letting me rant. I appreciate it. There is a special blog for Wednesday, so please watch out for it. Look after yourselves, and I’ll see you then.
SOME GEEK TOLD ME 
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