Last week my nine year-old accosted me with the perennial
words, “Mum, I’m bored I don’t know what to do”. Looking up from my newspaper I
pondered a whole two seconds before he said – get this – “Hurry up mum, you’re
wasting my time”. When I reminded him I don’t have to provide entertainment
24/7, he replied incredulously, “Yes you do – you’re the MUM”.
If television advertising is any measure, my son’s view is widely
shared. The closer we get to mother’s day, the louder it becomes. After all, if
Nick Riewoldt, grown man and iconic AFL footballer, can take his washing to mum’s
why can’t you? Why, with a hug and grin,
or perhaps a new electrical appliance, she’ll happily pick up after you for
another whole year.
Think about it. Driving kids around for an afternoon of
activities makes me a “great mum”, but teaching a child to read a timetable,
hail a bus and buy a ticket borders on negligence. Just ask Lenore Skenazy.
Suburban mums are literally tied to the steering wheel, but
what we want and need is half-decent public transport on weekends. There’s plenty of evidence that effective transport is a measure
of quality of life, and mothers are getting a raw deal.
Each weekday my two eldest kids get around by using their
own legs, which work perfectly well, and the local bus which runs every 15
minutes in peak.
But with hourly buses on weekends it all falls apart. Consequently,
I spend my weekends in a car. There’s nothing
good about it, save an occasional illuminating conversation, and the chance to erode
the 120 hour learner-driver requirement.
Last weekend I clocked up 164 kilometres, taking kids to
sport in Lilydale, Forest Hill, Ringwood and Heathmont, and a band practise in
Box Hill. Thanks to a Saturday night get-together in Kilsyth South, I made the
same 20 minute trip four times. Add the fact 20% of Melbournians are aged 17
and younger, well, you do the maths!
Australia’s National
Centre for Social and Economic Modelling includes living in a household without
a car as a social exclusion risk measure for children. No surprises there. Buses
are the sole means of public transport for over two-thirds of Metropolitan Melbourne,
but scant weekend services mean young people depend on lifts or risk social
exclusion.
Everyone knows kids need to get out and meet flesh-friends
rather than virtual ones, play sport, have part-time jobs, go to parties, and
get involved in creative activities. Strange that when independence is enabled,
one never hears “I’m bored mum, what can I do”.
From where I sit (mostly at the traffic lights) the Public
Transport Users Association campaign, Every 10 minutes to Everywhere looks a treat, with trams, trains, and main road
buses every 10 minutes, from 6am to midnight, 7-days-a-week, and Nightrider buses
every half-hour, 7-days-a-week. Do I think it will ever happen? Do you?
