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By Helvi Oosterman

The other day Susan Maushart lamented her teenage daughter’s lack of know-how or how-to with fitted sheets. In my youth we would have been so lucky to have sheets resembling huge shower caps. Our mums made sure that we became a deft hand with hospital corners; every girl but NO boy learnt this art of tight, nice and snug cornering.
Boys escape many lessons and it starts as early as potty training time; girls being clean and neat by nature move from nappies to panties in a couple of easy sittings, boys move semi permanently into pull-ups. They are too busy with their war games to worry about potties, and take to this comfort clothing with gusto. There is something magical down there, silicon maybe that keeps you dry even you have just wet yourself, or even worse.
For some blokes the pull-ups will return later on in life, but that’s another story…
Shoes are a must, but shoelaces for some reason are too hard for most males, and so we make life easier for them by inventing shoes with Velcro fastenings or with elasticized side panels. Summertime the ugly and dangerous Crocs come in handy and later on you’ll graduate to thongs and by then you are also usually more than willing to learn to walk the thong-walk.
The toddler boys can just about manage to put their head through the biggest hole in the t-shirt, the hands and arms have to be guided by patient mums. Nothing tight or woollen or itchy or scratchy is to be pulled over any boy’s head; the tickets and tags at the back have to be removed. Later on that will make life difficult; how do you know what’s the front and what is back.
You have to be a girl to know how to find the right button holes for your buttons; the boys will have zippers or nothing at all. The zippers are no cinch either, the silly fabric gets caught in them and they are made of something hard that feels a bit cold on little male’s extra sensitive skin… So, pull-overs it is, not those old-fashioned knitted things (pullovers) made of sheep wool or something scratchy; let’s keep it soft and simple like Polar fleece. Hoodies are heavenly but not after mum has removed the tag and you end up with the pouch at the front. Please, mum, don’t dare to laugh…
Pockets are the favourite part of any boy’s attire, the more the merrier: one for the coins another for rocks, frogs and iceblock wrappers and other related rubble.
Toddlers, even of the male variety turn to teens one day, and aren’t they lucky to do it now when the shops are bulging with all the brilliantly coloured rescue wear, waiting there just for you to pull it on and find a girl or two in need of being saved from wolves or bushfires depending on where you happen to live.
The female teens are now wearing bras, leggings and flimsy tops and sadly not at all interested in boys dressed in workman’s gear. They are dreaming of older and more ‘mature’ boys who at least have learnt to tie their shoelaces and zip their pipe jeans up, and when needed, down as well.
Of course there are always girls, who are nice and wise, and who instinctively know it’s you boys who need rescuing, and when that happens, we know that the real dressing up starts, maybe a bit of dressing down as well.
I’m wishing for that brilliantly coloured rescue wear to become popular with joggers. I came the closest I’ve ever come (to my knowledge) to hitting one with my car the other evening.
I have a three stage exit from my driveway. Stop before the footpath and check for pedestrians, stop before the road and check for cars, exit. Having backed out to the other side of the road, I noticed a jogger pass me just behind my car in the middle of the road. Straightening up the car I caught up with him still jogging on the road about 50 metres down, rolled down my window and politely (how did I manage THAT?) told him that I wanted him to know I hadn’t seen him.
“That’s alright” he says, as if forgiving me. “You gave me a hell of a fright”, say I. “Well you were on the footpath” says he, more sharply this time.
As far as I could gather, he hadn’t wanted to slow down so he ran out onto the road to avoid my car. At night time, in a grey tracksuit. Probably got a surprise when I back out to the opposite side of the road. Not a ‘young hoon’, mid-forties I’d guess.
Hopefully he knows he did a stupid thing and was just putting on a tough font. Otherwise I’m terrified of the guy. Think what it could do to my car insurance premiums if he pulls that stunt again.
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Grey trackies are better than black ones, but I agree: rescue wear for the nightime joggers!
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I’m all ‘kon-fu-sed’ about how many legs anyone in Tante Bep’s household had, one, two, three or four…I’ll just work out the total number , and divide it with the number of people and dogs and cars…oh, no, I forgot about the rats.
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oops, this was meant as a reply to Gez at the bottom…
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I can too do hospital corners! Although now I don’t have to as I have fitted sheets… Anyway girls are no good at catching frogs or newts and can’t climb trees for conkers!
😛
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Are you implying that the male nurse contingent are big girls for being able to do hospital corners?
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I just knew you were oin to say all tat, elvi… sorry, my keyboard is on its way out and some keys dont work.
Someow I knew you ad broters and I picked you for a tomboy… Peraps its te tolerance you sow for te male species of pilet; anyway, Im not surprised tat you know ow to climb trees and Ill bet you even caut te odd fro or newt or two…
🙂
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Oops! Tat last was supposed to be in response to elvis post…
Anyway, Bi M, Im not implyin tat at all… but its possible elvi mit be…
😉
A pint of Trotters Ale oes to te first one wo can tell me wic of my keys are not workin properly!
🙂
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Your keyboard is working very well, this is very amusing, asty.
No doubt you have a new keyboard by now.
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asty, I have two older brothers and I ‘had to’ keep up with them, so I learnt to climb trees, swim in the fast flowing rivers, to read before starting school and much more, no doubt they also learnt the hospital corners and other things from me…
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Ah ha! I clicked a tag link. Well done young Hung.
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Thanks mate 🙂
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It’s not silicone in nappies, it’s Sodium Polyacrylate.
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Thanks Big M, I’ll tell my grandsons that they were wrong. By the way did you read the article by Shane Moloney on UL? Nicely written…have you read any of his books. If so, are they any good? I like a good detective story…
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I only found out about nappies because we did a research project on urine output estimate of extremely preterm infants by weighing nappies.
Yes, it could have been written by Raymond Chandler. I’m already trying to chase down his detective books. They’re available as two trilogies, therefore a bit cheaper.
There are only about fifteen novels lying about the house ahead of Maloney’s.
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Big M, being in transit, having to move again in October, I can’t get into anything more serious regarding books, so I’ll check Maloney, and pass them to the son after reading.
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“Of Boys and Pull-Ups
By gerard oosterman
By Helvi Oosterman”
A collaboration in misandry? I had thought better of either of the Oosterfolk.
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… a pull-up collaboration, LOL, pull on another one !
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Yes, Pull One On, or POO!
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Very sharp little brother, Pull One On is my cousin, Have One On is my brother, and he ain’t heavy…..
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PPS: Yes Cooking with Poo has heaps of potential especially on the free to air channels
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Yes, HOO, I noticed that Hung One Out had replied to some of your UL comments (got sick of writing Big M).
I’d like to see ‘Masterpoop’.
Hey, Helvi’s correct, it’s all wee and poo with us boys!
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Good to know that there is at least one male piglet who is Big enough to admit that I’m right 🙂
The Master Chef girl can cook, but why is she laughing all the time…I found Maggie Beer irritating enough.
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It might be just the bloody male nurses who are fascinated with wee and poo?
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Thanks for sharing that Helvi
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Just checking if you and Big M can do ‘hopsital’ corners 🙂
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Certainly, still do. I get in to trouble from Tutu sometimes though
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I used to love playing hospital under the house.
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What about “Mummies and Daddies”?
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Still do, Mrs M gets a tad upset if I don’t!
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I meant hospital corners, not mummies and daddies. Oh, we still do that too!
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Good man Big M!
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Gez, which house was it? Tante Beb’s in Woodville Road, with the ute with a missing wheel , the three-legged dog, and the three girls, Truus, Lies and Mieke?
Was the house number 3 in the street?
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Tante (aunty) Bep’s house was on Woodville Rd, Guildford. They bragged about having their own house and own car. The house was derelict and rented from a timber yard owner, a Mr Payne. He stacked baths and huge piles of wood right next to our section of the house which we were renting from tante Bep.
The ute was a 1948 Chevy on three wheels and a pile of bricks acting as it’s fourth. The dog was a German Shepherd, also on three wheels (legs), a bit of a handicap in chasing rats. ( they all had four legs)
Aunty Bep had four daughters, all with 2 legs, one of whom (Liesje) allowed me a quick look between her 2 pubescent legs next to the stacks of wood allowing me to cement the idea I had formed already, that girls were different.
I lived of that for many years.
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