Holiday entertainment

My sister, pictured here is the Aunt that every kid should have. She is amazing and loves to entertain them by attempting to show them how she can sit on a swing designed for the butt of a baby.
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See. Food usually works.

Maya and Riley trying to outdo each other and see who can injure themselves first by flying right over the bar.

It's school holidays and that means many children requiring many hours of entertainment. We've had nieces and nephews and aunts and uncles hanging around for days which is all very well and fun until they start to argue with each other. That's when you need to slap them and get them out of the house. Of course I don't really slap them but I do offer food in the hope that it will make all the whining go away. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. Henry's loved having them around and this morning when he woke and the house was quiet and there were no spare children he seemed to be lost. He's so tired from the constant playing though that he took himself back to bed at 10am this morning to sleep it off.

The Talented Few

Many people are fortunate enough to know someone who is extremely talented. I am one of those fortunate people. I've known Melissa J Evans since high school and she is one very talented woman.

Last night she played at a local cafe near us and so we trotted off down to see her. She sang a few songs I hadn't heard before including one about her experience in San Francisco when she toured the states. Her music style is very unique but if I had to describe her so you may understand how she sounds I could liken her to the Indigo Girls meets Tracy Chapman perhaps but even that isn't right. The lyrics to her songs have the ability to touch your soul and she sings about all things we experience in life but generally tend to push away because it's all too hard to think about.

She does have very good taste in pizza too. I fortuitously arrived just as they were finishing stuffing themselves on the pizza they had been given free of charge by the cafe. There were two pieces left that had my name all over them. Most people know I can't stand to see food go to waste so I felt it was my duty to finish them off. I had to. They would only have been thrown away otherwise.

That's her in the orange with her partner Sue and my brother Brett. He's a pretty talented songwriter/musician too.

If you're interested you can hear Melissa here or here.

Hit and Run

Since seeing Joe Camilleri playing at the Countdown Spectacular the other night my husband has become obsessed with the song he was famous for in about 1978 when he played with Jo Jo Zep and the Falcons - Hit and Run. I have heard that song more times in the last week than I have at any other time in my life. When he gets up in the morning he plays it. When he comes home from work he plays it. Before he goes to bed he plays it. He even tries to dance like Joe Camilleri did in his countdown filmclip.

When I remarked that he may soon be sick of it he replied " No I won't. It's like sushi or KFC, you just don't get sick of it".

I may live through this current obsession but I'm not sure I'll ever get the image of him attempting to dance just like Joe Camilleri does out of my head, because just like Joe Camilleri my husband dances so infrequently that it's kind of like watching someone pluck the hairs on their legs with a pair of tweezers that don't quite meet when pinched together. Painful and frustrating.

Noice hairstyle

When left alone this is what a sister will do to a brother because she doesn't have a sister

If the bank sank who would care.

Now is the time to search for an alternative for stashing away money that doesn't involve ever having to deal with a bank or any bank related product.

Ben and I recently had our tax done and surprisingly we got a return. I wasn't expecting this as I was sure I had received more than I was entitled to from centrelink throughout the year and would have to pay them back. We received a reserve bank cheque. As you all know reserve bank cheques should never be subjected to clearance times but some banks will tell you they have the right to do so. They only do this because they make millions of dollars from cheques. They use your money to make themselves more. Maybe they don't think the government has enough money in their coffers and the cheque just might not clear.

Ben took his cheque and deposited it through Australia Post. Australia Post doesn't trust the government and his reserve bank cheque is subject to five WORKING days clearance. I rang my bank only to be told that they have no control over it once it's been deposited through Australia Post. What a load of crap! We don't need access to the money straight away but I am furious that we have to wait for clearance on a RESERVE BANK CHEQUE just on principle. The guy at my bank told me that each bank branch reserves the right to subject a RESERVE BANK cheque to clearance at their own discretion. Now I know he's not personally responble for this outrage but I let him have it and told him that no bank has the right to make a reserve bank cheque subject to clearance. Of course he didn't really care he's just there to answer the questions.

Once Maya's father sent her a sum of money via Australia Post money order and I couldn't cash it without her ID even though she was only 9 at the time. I had to put it in her bank account and believe it or not it was subject to three working days clearance. I argued with the teller that it was as good as cash as it had been paid for with cash at the other end. No, she said, it's not. I asked her if she thought Australia Post might not have enough money to cover the $100 it was worth and she got very upset with me.

I am sick of the red tape and bureaucracy. I think I'm going to apply for a job at a bank.

Mum Jeans

Sometimes I feel like these are all I'm good for.

I found a link to this while reading the blog of another mother who suffers from the spread women get after they've given birth.

Patience is no virtue

I've tried to be patient. I really have. I've counted to ten, sometimes even to 100. I've taken deep breaths. I've even walked away but being the mother of a two year old requires more than patience. It requires a back brace, valium, padded rooms, massage therapy, pain killers and pyschiatric care.

Next week I'm removing all the furniture from the house, including the refrigerator and having the walls lined with padding so that my child, who bounces off the walls even without the help of sugar can remain uninjured until he's old enough to start playing football.

Countdown Spectacular

Countdown was THE Australian rock music bible of my youth. Well, the televised rock music bible. At 6pm every Sunday night from 1974 to 1987 we tuned into the ABC to watch gyrating, satin clad bands such as Hush, Sherbet, Misex, Skyhooks just to name a few, strut their stuff on the Coundown stage. We lived for that hour of television. It clashed with the newshour on the other channel (we only had two) and my parents called it 'rubbish' but mostly they would relent and try to get their news fix some other way. Without Countdown many Australian bands and some internationals would never have gone further than their back yard garages.

Last night Ben and I, along with my sister went to the Countdown Spectacular. What a spectacular it was. I was warned by Maya before we even left not to dance because dancing at my age was "just embarrassing". Dancing proved almost impossible anyway because it was held at the Boondall Entertainment Centre which can hold many thousands of people and it's all sit down. No standing. My sister and I attempted to stand at our seats at one point but were quickly poked in the back by those behind us. I was really quite amazed at how conservative and quiet the crowd were. It was impossible not to be excited and enthusiastic as the performance was incredibly vibrant. Many couldn't even be bothered clapping. There were of course the odd couple of people who couldn't help themselves and they went wild occasionally screaming at the top of their lungs.

It's hard to pinpoint a favourite of the evening but I have to say Hush were pretty spectacular. They're all looking decidedly middle aged now but they still knew how to entertain the crowd. They were dressed as they were in the seventies, waving fire breathing guitars. My oldest sister went to one of their concerts when she was about 10 years old and Les Gock, leading guitarist, managed to set himelf on fire and had to get carted off to the Maryborough Base Hospital where he spent the night.

Frontmen for many of the most popular bands of that era are dead now; Mark Hunter from Dragon, Bon Scott from ACDC, Shirley Strachan from Skyhooks, Michael Hutchence from INXS, and Ted Mulry from the Ted Mulry Gang. Some from lifestyle related illnesses and others from sheer bad luck. There was of course a tribute to them all.

It was a last minute decision for us to go as we had access to eleventh hour drastically reduced tickets. I'm glad we did because I had a really kick-ass time.

We could also have gone to New Zealand in the same amount of time.

Two male cousins enjoying their weetbix

A three hour car trip with a toddler should be introduced as a test to every person who has ever considered becoming a parent.

A desperate desire to get away from the city for even just a few hours resulted in us making the decision to drive for three hours to Maryborough, home of Posie the Cow. Listening to the protestations of a toddler who's limbs have been rendered immoveable by the very tight carseat restraints for three hours is akin to having your head taped to a stereo speaker which is belting out a bad recording of Cindy Lauper's True Colours. Very distracting if you happen to be the driver.

The trip was worth it because I got to see my children covered in mud. That's when you know they've had fun.

My niece and nephew are competing this weekend in the Maryborough Technology Challenge. They'll be competing, as they did last year, in the Human Powered Vehicle Race. This is a challenge my brother in law, who is somewhat of a science nerd, happens to be very passionate about. So much so that he can't talk about anything else. That's him below in the blue shirt with the HPV he has spent months designing and building. This isn't the one he wanted to build though and was talked down on his plans by the parents of other competing students. His design was somewhat futuristic but did involve many carefully formulated equations on how to get the most speed with the least amount of effort. If I was more science oriented and knew about quantum physics and stuff I'd be able to tell you what it was he told me but I just drifted off as soon as he said the word velocity...



Henry's complaints were subdued for just a few moments on the return trip by this massive piece of machinery pictured below. Unfortunately we had to try to get him back into the car and no amount of chocolate coated bribery was going to help. We just had to use sheer force.

The Sweetness of young love

Angelique and Henry

When he kisses her goodbye he does it ever so gently and aims his lips, points them towards her and follows her head until he can plant one right where she spoons that yoghurt.

Farewell

Henry has a new playmate. Her name is Angelique and she's adorably French. They live just a few streets away. We met them in the local park . The sad thing is they're leaving to live in France with her grandparents. Angelique's mama, Audrey, is French and she's adorable too. Her Papa, Dominic, is a kiwi and a stay at home Dad. We don't only like them because they'r adorable but also because they think everything Henry does is cute even when sometimes it clearly is not. Angelique, who is only 20 months old can say many french words, in fact she probably knows more french than she does English.

We're so sad that they're leaving but at the same time so very jealous. They get to eat cheeses we can only dream about... and croissants and pastries and french wine. They'll ride Vespa's and snowski and wander through little villages and drink fine coffee as they watch the locals wander by. Today they showed me some photographs of the village they'll be living in and all it made me want to do was give them a sleep elixer and steal their identity so I could go in their place.

They've lived here for four years and decided that Angelique needed to grow up knowing her grandparents. They found it hard in this conservative part of the world to make friends. Dom and Audrey are placid, calm and interesting people but this area we live in is typically suburbia. A stark contrast to the culturally saturated villages of France. The locals here are concerned about their lawn and renovations and traffic calming and complaining to council about the smells of other people's barbeques wafting into their homes. They're friendly enough to nod their heads in greeting but that's it. They don't let you in unless you can discuss the downturn in the value of property if the council installs public toilets at the park or the value of a good private school education or when you will purchase your next Jeep. I have lived here for five years and I thought perhaps it was just me that felt this way about our neighbourhood but after talking with them I realised I wasn't alone. Dominic met another local recently who lives directly across from our closest park area and this man (who sports long grey hair and rides a Harley Davidson) refuses to go to the park anymore because he's sick of hearing complaints about the things he believes make a community just that. BBQ's and the sounds of children playing.

The neighbourhood here is very picturesque. There are lots of trees and birdlife and even plenty of snakes and that makes up for the lack of neighbourly affection but it's hard to make a life when you feel you can't connect. If you just don't care whether the neighbour mows his lawn or not or if you don't believe a good education can only come from a lifetime of working your fingers to the bone or you enjoy the smell of other people's cooking and you'd really like some public toilets in the park then I guess it's hard to fit in. I have struggled with it everyday since I've lived here but I have family and good friends close by so it's made a lot easier for me. Mind you if I was given the opportunity to go and live in France I'd do it in an instant.

We'll miss them. The upside is though that if we ever make it to France we've got somewhere to stay.

He's never coming back

Steve Irwin, famous Australian Crocodile Hunter is dead. I can't say anything here that hasn't already been said but for those of you in the States I can tell you that his death has been all anyone has talked about here. The TV and radio have been broadcasting almost nothing but reports and tribues to him. We all believed he was invincible. Many Australians were almost embarrassed that he was the "Australian" the world believed us all to be. I'm proud of that fact. He put Australia on the world map. He made us all much more aware of the delicate link we have with nature. He poured his own money into conservation. He bought up land everywhere just to protect the species who were at risk of extinction. Love him or hate him there's not many of us who can say we lived our lives fighting causes we were truly passionate about. He certainly wasn't a wealthy man by Hollywood standards. Apparently he made only $4 million last year compared to Nicole Kidman's $23 million and the $50 million made by the Wiggles. He was the most well known Australian worldwide and yet made only a fraction of what others made. All of his money went back into the conservation and protection of wildlife and their habitat.

Many news reports I've read on the internet claim that few Australians watched his programs. I did. I loved them. Maya loved them. I guess if his death does nothing else it may make people realise that we never know when we are going to breathe our last breath. Who gets up in the morning and thinks they're going to die that day, just hours after having that first cup of tea?

A photo in which I actually look ok. Don't laugh!

Since Henry's asleep and I have some time to muck around I was looking through some photos and found this photo which is actually a reasonably nice one of me. The sunglasses help. Maya of course looks beautiful. My brother sent this to me. His wonderful fiance took it while we were in Newcastle. I normally hate photographs of myself which is why you rarely see them here.

Swim like a crocodile

Henry had his first swimming lesson today. I had tossed up in my mind whether or not to take him but I'm so glad I did. The swim instructor was fantastic. His lesson was taken with a baby and another little girl only around 15 months old. Of course I had to get in the water with him but the pool is heated and it's under cover so it was really a lovely experience. They teach using songs as prompts which made it fun. Considering he's only ever been swimming in a pool about 3 times he took to it like a duck to water. He loved it up until the last ten minutes when he started saying "I don't like the beach, I have to go home now". Still he continued on like a trooper.

The baby boy knew all the cues and the little girl was like a fish. She was amazing. She would swim underwater to the side of the pool and get out by herself. Her mother said she had only been going since she was twelve months old. I think the instructor knows how to get results.

A Feast or Famine

Is it possible to have too many jobs? So this year I've had a total of four different jobs and just got offered another. My foray into the world of sales didn't last long. I couldn't quite bring myself to make any real sales to women who demanded you visit them but then looked at you over the top of their designer red framed lenses and told you they just wanted to see you but weren't interested in making a purchase right now. There's a certain type of person who occupies the space behind the counters of "home and living" retail stores. I always imagined them living in homes that looked just like their stores. Everything colour matched with a lot useless but attractive soft furnishings and vases full of nothing because they were designed for aesthetic effect not function.

Then out of sheer desperation I signed up to interview with a market research company I had worked for years ago for several years. Things hadn't changed there either but the pay was good. I guess I felt I'd rather struggle with trying to keep shoes on my kids feet than work in a cubicle dialing numbers that were connected to the homes of people who'd rather you break and enter to steal their posessions than ask them to answer a survey over the phone. That ended when I feigned a sore throat on Mother's Day and I was forced to provide them with a doctors certificate. That and the fact that I had to work 50 hours on a training rate for something I could do with my hands tied behind my back. It was also as if everyone working there accepted the fact that they were expected to work like robots even though all their job promotional material stated there would be "room to use your initiative and work your way up". Bottom feeders stay bottom feeders in that industry.

From there I took myself off to another market research company and told them what I could and could not do. They were fantastic and very accommodating and gave me some work that was more worthy of my ability although still not very stimulating.

I then got offered the work I'm currently doing which is working for an investigation company typing precis of investigation interviews. Some might say this is utterly boring but I find it utterly fascinating. I get to listen in on some very interesting stuff.

In between all of this I applied for a job on a health research study and while, according to them, I was the best candidate for the job, I missed out because I wasn't available enough for them. Just last week they offered me the job again. I turned it down. I'm quite happy where I am. It's not consistent but it pays very well and it keeps me entertained.

Happy Father's Day

Unfortunately we weren't thinking straight today and I did not have the camera at the ready when Henry walked from the bedroom to his Daddy (who was in the kitchen making Mummy a cup of tea), saying Happy Father's Day as he handed over the gift. You can take my word for it that it was cute and adorable and said with love. He gave Dad a hug, demanded a cup of tea and toast and then headed out to the TV where he waited patiently for someone to come put "Bob a Builder" on it for him.

And here's the wisteria in full bloom. One day it's bare, the next it's covered in flowers and bees and releasing a most delicate scent

It's time

Lately Henry is obsessed with taking off his pants and pointing out to me that he has a "doody". I guess this means it's time to get serious about toilet training. He can't seem to leave them on for more than five minutes. Each night for the last 4 nights he's fallen asleep with his bare bum in the air after spending an eternity trying to free himself of the constraints of underwear. Last night he was in a full body suit and I heard him chattering away to himself before he fell asleep. When I went to check on him he was lying on his back fast asleep with the zip undone and his singlet pulled up over his head. He hadn't been able to get his legs out to get his nappy off and maybe thought if he could get the singlet off he'd get to the nappy. We've been sitting on the "toot" now several times a day for a few months but he never does anything. He just sits there and pulls all the toilet paper off the roll and shoves it in the toilet "like mummy does". He's learned that because I haven't been to the toilet alone for about two years.