April 2013 Archive

Welfare reforms have been passed into law.


Awesome news for god fearing, beneficiary bashing Right Wingers.
But the the very real effect of these changes will be to discriminate against woman and alienate voters.

From the press release:

“They will also ensure work expectations and social obligations are balanced with the right incentives and support.”


The investment approach will target interventions and support to those most at risk of long-term welfare dependence.
“By investing in people sooner, we can actually start to break that cycle of dependence.”

Meanwhile, a Northland Mom resorts to stealing fdood for her and her children:


“We know of one woman on the DPB who has had to resort to stealing to feed her children. It’s not stealing luxuries, it’s food for her and her children because the DPB doesn’t provide enough to do so after she’s paid her rent and other incidentals,” Mrs Peters said.
“She’s under a budgeter and after paying the bills [rent, power etc] she has about $100 a week for food, medical and school expenses and clothes, etc, that’s not a lot when you’ve got five kids. It’s not that she’s spending her benefit on cigarettes or alcohol or any luxuries. And she’s the second one we’ve seen in a week who’s had to steal to make ends meet.”

These Northland bludgers could always get a job. Unfortunately there are only 78 jobs in Northland for those looking to move off the dole:

Unfortunately political parties don’t ever learn from the failed mistakes of their past. And while Ryall, English et al are still in play, New Zealand gets to revisit the same old political ploys.
Bash beneficiaries and divert attention from the real show stopping truth:
 Sorry to shout but the truth about welfare is it doesn’t work with wholly stick and no carrot: The carrot of available jobs that is.

there are only 78 Jobs in Northland, Paula,
1383 in Auckland, Paula (city of 2 million people),
297 in Waikato, Paula,
256 in Bay of plenty, Paula,
16 in Gisborne, Paula,
129 in Hawkes Bay, Paula,
71 in Taranaki, Paula,
138 in wanganui, Manawatu, Paula,
548 in Wellington, Paula (our capital city), 
71 jobs in Nelson, Paula,
46 in Marlborough, Paula,
17 on the West Coast, Paula,
884 in Canterbury Paula, (Bingo. (Because of the earthquake) 
156 in Otago, Paula,
43 in southland, Paula.

Where are the jobs, Paula.

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A typical Wednesday goes like this:

Game addicts start hunting for their IPads at around 5am. Adults yell: ” Go back to sleep”. This tactic is unsuccessful. The day has begun.
The IPads have been hidden from the games addicts; they are forced into a state of cold turkey.
To cope with the withdrawal , they start an impromptu game of:” Ghosty, Ghosty Chicken Roasty”!
This involves the three boys yelling at the top of their lungs while the most brutal of them chases the others around the house.
We adults suffer this miserably for another half an hour before rising. The usual lack of sleep on top of the uber-responsibility from the previous day gives us a rather leaden sense of humour.

Coffee helps.

So does sticking out my foot to trip up a random rocketing Ghosty.

“Mum!” shouts Chicken Roasty.
“That should have gone on America’s Funniest home videos”.

The wee Ghosty glares at me and yells out ” Penis Brain” to his brother.

I make pancakes and am promptly forgiven for all my misdemeanors.

Something tugs on my leg. Something else yells out “Tuddle”!

The twins are awake.

I “tuddle” one, give him a kiss and change his sister’s diaper.

The twins are dressed, fed and off to preschool at 7.30am. We arrive there and are greeted by this creature:

 A flock of turkeys is resident next to the preschool. After dropping the twins I scramble  up the hill to get closer:

I am fascinated by this bizarre looking creature but I give it up and leave to drop the oldest boys to their school. It’s now 8.30am.

Then me and Number Three stop at Starbucks for breakfast:

Duly fortified by apple juice and spinach croissants, we arrive at his preschool. I make a mental note to myself to get his hair cut. Parent Fail. He looks like Cousin It.

Also his top is far too big for him and he is lacking socks. I make a sheepish grin and a typical Kiwi self effacing comment to his teacher about, “his Dad dressing him”.
She looks at me strangely; I pat my head to see if I have left the rollers in like I did last week. No rollers. She just didn’t know how to respond to my typical Kiwi aphorism.

I muse on how different the American culture is as I walk to the car. It’s unusual to refer to anything not done properly. Americans do everything to within at least 80% of perfection.

And the other 20% just isn’t referred to. Sometimes it’s the basis for the goofy American sense of humor. But you never feel shamefaced. It’s just taken as a given that perfection isn’t possible but if you’re doing it the “American Way” then that’s what counts.
And the American Way is mostly do stuff well.
Including the basics of parenting where Moms and Dads quite often swap roles.

I’m learning. I couldn’t quite stop myself from making that comment that time but next time I’ll ruffle my son’s hair, smile at the teacher and turn and high five the next Dad who walks through the door.
The American Way.

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