We spent the morning at Carla's house today. Owen, Charlotte and Henry played beautifully together but I believe poor Carla may have been slightly frazzled after we left.
Friday, February 08, 2008
Little Treasures
We spent the morning at Carla's house today. Owen, Charlotte and Henry played beautifully together but I believe poor Carla may have been slightly frazzled after we left.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
The Root of all Evil
Carla and I have just had an email conversation about all the bad things associated with bribing your child with food to get them to co-operate. She knows all about how bad it is because she works in an environment that is all about fostering good eating habits in children. But because she's also a mother she knows that the reality of life with kids is much harder than is often suggested in all those good eating habit books.
We spoke about this because I bribe Henry with Nutella. Yes Nutella. Those lovely little one-serve packs of them. They're worth their weight in gold because all I need to do is utter the word "Kintella", as Henry calls them, and he comes running.
I've had to bribe him today in order to get him to co-operate while I treated an infection that had developed in an unseemly place. After a restless night in which Henry woke several times in obvious pain I told him we'd need to go to to see Doctor Helen. When I rang to book in we were told she was on leave. I told him we'd have to see her locum. He did not think this was such a good idea and asked if she had lollies like Doctor Helen did. When I told him I believed she did he said "well, that's ok then."
Kintella or any other bribe subsitute that works, makes being a parent easy...sometimes. When I am in a hurry to get out of the house early in the morning and Henry is feeling decidedly unco-operative all I need do is whisper the magic word and he's like putty in my hands. What parent wouldn't want that kind of complaince?
Henry has also recently learned some unsavoury words from Child From Hell at daycare. He's also developed the normal sense of toilet humour. He says all day "Mum, that's a bum, bum". He then looks at me and says "I shouldn't say that naughty word should I?" I remind him again that no he should not. It's not polite. This is usually followed by the words "Kintella doesn't make me say naughty words".
In other news, Maya had her braces removed today. The three and a half years she had them on for were worth every second. Her teeth are beautiful! They're straight and perfect and look like they could easily be my teeth if I'd gone through three years of wearing braces. I'm jealous. I want her teeth. She has to wear a retainer for some months yet but it's not at all like those ugly fuse wire type things that were around when I was a kid. Her retainer is clear plastic and one would never even know she is wearing it. I'm very proud of the fact that she stuck it out and was diligent in doing all that was asked of her in order for her mouth to look like that of an overpaid supermodel's.
Sunday, February 03, 2008
When Stashing the Trash leaves a sweet taste
It's been a busy weekend. We haven't stopped much to take a breath. While Maya was at her first guitar lesson for the year Henry, Ben and I spent some time at the park. Since he's that much bigger and has developed a sense of balance he does really well on the playground equipment. He seems less like a suicidal kamikaze pilot and more like a child who has realised there are no safety nets to catch him when he falls.
I've been trying to get rid of junk and clutter around here and as there is a council kerbside clean up on the horizon there was no better time than this weekend to pile the footpath high with unwanted bits and pieces. Then we just wait for the endless trail of utes and trucks that will come by, go through it and spread it around like vegemite on toast before the council eventually collects what's left.
We had some friends over for drinks last night and I learned many things about them that I hadn't known before. Amazing how loose the tongue becomes after a few drinks. They left around 11PM so I was tired when I was woken at 5.30AM by Henry who had been asleep already for twelve hours by that point. I lay down with him this afternoon to read him some stories and we both fell asleep - me for an hour, him for three.
I'm feeling very pleased to have got rid of so much useless junk from my house. It almost feels as though I cleaned out a few cobwebs from the brain as well.
Friday, February 01, 2008
Mental Rental
I don't know how many of you who read this rent the home you live in. I do. I'd love to buy a house one day but right now it's just not possible. At least not anywhere near where we'd like to live so we're stuck being tenants for now. That does sometimes have its advantages but they don't outweigh the benefits of being a homeowner. I've owned one before. For a start, when you're a tenant you can't let your kids loose with some sticky tape and posters of all boy bands. If your two year old decides he wants to learn to write the alpahabet on the wall using a wax crayon it causes you to stress and fret for weeks until you find some magic formula for removing it. It is however very nice to be able to call the landlord and tell him when the plumbing goes haywire, or the electrics don't work, or the dishwasher packs it in...or it would be nice if we were taken seriously.
We've had it good as far as the amount of rent we pay...up till now. We fully acknowledge that. But because of the low rent we have put up with a lot of things that we wouldn't normally. The rent is about to increase. Fair enough. It's going to rise substantially in one hit however. Because of this I asked for some things to be taken care of. Things that I have in the past asked for but have not received. One major problem, which required the services of a tradesman, was looked into and it seems something may eventually be done about it. The tradie arrived today. He's been here before and he's in deep with the landlord and so takes nothing I say seriously. Obviously he's been directed to do it as inexpensively as possible. I don't care as long as it gets fixed. What does irk me is that when he shows up he leaves his respect in his van. He walks through the house in muddy boots. Leaves a mess of garganutan proportions all over the place, uses the bathroom to wash his hands, splashes dirty water all over the place and then wipes it on my towels. He uses the toilet and flushes it using his mud covered hands.
I know these things are pretty typical of tradespeople but it seems when you're a tenant they care even less. It's no big deal to them if they leave a mess. They're doing a job for someone who's going to claim the cost as an expense at tax time and who only wants to pay the bare minimum in the first place. I'm tired of it but there's a certain game that needs to be played. Right now the rental market is tight. Rents are exhorbitant and they can pick and choose who they rent to at will. They won't take a lease that's longer than six months because as soon as it expires they'll raise the rent higher.
I regularly read an investors forum, just to see what all these property investors are saying. None of them care much about their tenants in this time of prosperity. They see them only as dollar symbols. Gone are the days when a good tenant would be rewarded and treated fairly and justly. We've been lucky up until now and so the decision for us now is whether to move to a nicer house in which all things work as they should for the same amount we're going to have to pay or stay here. But of course moving house doesn't come cheaply. It's inconvenient and stressful but it sure would be nice to walk away.
We've had it good as far as the amount of rent we pay...up till now. We fully acknowledge that. But because of the low rent we have put up with a lot of things that we wouldn't normally. The rent is about to increase. Fair enough. It's going to rise substantially in one hit however. Because of this I asked for some things to be taken care of. Things that I have in the past asked for but have not received. One major problem, which required the services of a tradesman, was looked into and it seems something may eventually be done about it. The tradie arrived today. He's been here before and he's in deep with the landlord and so takes nothing I say seriously. Obviously he's been directed to do it as inexpensively as possible. I don't care as long as it gets fixed. What does irk me is that when he shows up he leaves his respect in his van. He walks through the house in muddy boots. Leaves a mess of garganutan proportions all over the place, uses the bathroom to wash his hands, splashes dirty water all over the place and then wipes it on my towels. He uses the toilet and flushes it using his mud covered hands.
I know these things are pretty typical of tradespeople but it seems when you're a tenant they care even less. It's no big deal to them if they leave a mess. They're doing a job for someone who's going to claim the cost as an expense at tax time and who only wants to pay the bare minimum in the first place. I'm tired of it but there's a certain game that needs to be played. Right now the rental market is tight. Rents are exhorbitant and they can pick and choose who they rent to at will. They won't take a lease that's longer than six months because as soon as it expires they'll raise the rent higher.
I regularly read an investors forum, just to see what all these property investors are saying. None of them care much about their tenants in this time of prosperity. They see them only as dollar symbols. Gone are the days when a good tenant would be rewarded and treated fairly and justly. We've been lucky up until now and so the decision for us now is whether to move to a nicer house in which all things work as they should for the same amount we're going to have to pay or stay here. But of course moving house doesn't come cheaply. It's inconvenient and stressful but it sure would be nice to walk away.
Tea Party
My mother is always looking for an excuse to use her fine china so she holds tea parties for her grandchildren when they have a birthday. She bakes all morning and then sets out the delicate china. She even, from places known only to her, manages to find heart shaped, pastel coloured sugar "cubes".
Even Henry enjoys these rituals. He gets his own small tea cup and saucer and ever so gently lifts it his delicate little lips. Then he slurps down the tea until he gets to the undissolved sugar at the bottom. Then he runs his fingers around the bottom of it to get every last grain.
This latest party was to honour my niece who turned thirteen and was last year Dux of her school.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Cool
School starts again next week. For Maya, sleeping in until 2PM will be a thing of the past. She will have to totally retrain her body to wake up in time to get to school. She hasn't practiced yet because she thinks it will be a cinch but I know there will be at least a week of cranky, stinky attitude coming from her until things settle down. She'll tell me that she's NOT TIRED! She'll say that it's the fault of the school for GIVING HER SO MUCH DAMNED WORK TO DO! She'll say that she can't possibly do the dishes for me because she has SO MUCH HOMEWORK to do. Then the whines will turn into requests for me to drive her all over town so she attend all of her social engagements.
We've been trying to enjoy the last few days together before hell warms up again. We've been to what Henry refers to as the "cool" either because he refuses o say Pool or because it is actually quite cool. He loves it and it's been good because he starts swimming lessons again next week. The only problem is that we've all caught colds because we've been swimming in publicly gathered germs.
Maya gets her braces off in two weeks time and the only thing that would make her happier is if we got a call from Golden Casket telling us we'd won a gazillion bucks. Hopefully she'll be diligent in wearing a retainer so as not to undo the three and a half years of sacrifice she's made to ensure her teeth are straight.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Only good things
Henry asked me in the car today if I knew how to say good things. I told him I did and rattled off all the good things I knew how to say. Such as "I love you", "You're so precious", "You're the smartest, most handsome boy I know".
I asked him if he knew how to say good things. His response; "Yeah, but I only say naughty things because I'm good". What that was supposed to mean I have no idea.
Whenever I am feeling cross with him I tell him how I'm feeling. Now whenever he hears that tone in my voice he immediately stops what he's doing and looks at me with a huge grin on his face and says "Are you happy now?". As though that is the way to make everything right.
I asked him if he knew how to say good things. His response; "Yeah, but I only say naughty things because I'm good". What that was supposed to mean I have no idea.
Whenever I am feeling cross with him I tell him how I'm feeling. Now whenever he hears that tone in my voice he immediately stops what he's doing and looks at me with a huge grin on his face and says "Are you happy now?". As though that is the way to make everything right.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
making the ordinary seem extraordinary
I'm going to bore you all stupid with photos we've taken since becoming the owners of a new Digital SLR. I love that I can make the junk lying around this house seem so cool. I can single out one thing among the myriad of stuff and present it to you as something interesting. Such as the dishes we rarely get around to putting away before we need to use them next.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Dead Snake
On the way home from the park we noticed this dead snake on the road. He looked at first as if he had been painted on there because of the way in which he'd been squashed and smashed into it.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Play Photos
Here are some more images taken with our new toy. We're still amatuers but we're doing ok I think. The doll house photograph was taken by Maya who seems to have a knack for photography.
Note the scratches on Henry's face. He got those the day we bought the camera. We took some time to look through some beautiful floor rugs hanging in a nearby shop. He was running in and out of them and came out with that. We don't know if it's carpet burn or not. He didn't complain about it.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Changes
I would post some more photos taken with our brand new camera but they're on the upstairs computer and since I have to book in ahead to use that one you'll have to wait. I'm typing this from Maya's eMac. A supercool little computer and the one she spends all night chatting to her friends on. I only know how to use it to its most basic features - like surfing the net for useless pieces of information such as who created Fireman Sam.
We rented a Fireman Sam DVD from the local video rental place. It's only a three night hire because apparently it's a new release, even though it was made in like 1915. It's the early episodes of Fireman Sam in which all the voices of all the characters came from the one man. The puppets don't have moving mouths so it's sometimes hard to distinguish who says what. If you're a Fireman Sam officianado like we've come to be you'll know that having these early episodes is almost as thrilling as watching water boil. I say that with only a hint of sarcasm because it is actually very interesting.
Interestingly enough Fireman Sam was created to help promote the Welsh Fire service. It started as a public service announcement. Fireman Sam is of course the town hero. If he can't fix it no one can. Norman, the redheaded village ratbag, comes from a single parent family. His mum runs the local store. Her name is Dylis and she's always on the hunt for a husband. In the newer episodes she is always flirting with Trevor the dark skinned bus driver. He always seems oblivious to her overtures. BUT...in the older episodes it's Trevor who's always attempting to have Dylis respond to his flirtations. He even calls her "my darling" and "sugarbag". At some point they must have decided that it was politically incorrect for a dark skinned bus driver to be making heavy moves on a white single mother struggling to keep her general store afloat. They've cut out all the endearments, except those made by Dylis to Trevor. Perhaps they thought girls and boys the world over needed to recognise that women were the ones with all the power. That they could be career women, have children and still attract a man.
Henry has noticed the subtle differences. He's noticed that Fireman Sam has the same voice as his nephew James. That Norman is dressed in different clothing. That Jupiter (the firetruck) has a different shape and that Bella, the Italian cafe owner, can't sing. He's not so fussed on the older episodes. The theme song and accomanying introduction is different and Henry refuses to sing along to it. He is a boy who does not like change, who would like for things to stay the same always. In an ever changing world he's never going to be happy. I'm going to have to send him to therapy in order to help him cope.
We rented a Fireman Sam DVD from the local video rental place. It's only a three night hire because apparently it's a new release, even though it was made in like 1915. It's the early episodes of Fireman Sam in which all the voices of all the characters came from the one man. The puppets don't have moving mouths so it's sometimes hard to distinguish who says what. If you're a Fireman Sam officianado like we've come to be you'll know that having these early episodes is almost as thrilling as watching water boil. I say that with only a hint of sarcasm because it is actually very interesting.
Interestingly enough Fireman Sam was created to help promote the Welsh Fire service. It started as a public service announcement. Fireman Sam is of course the town hero. If he can't fix it no one can. Norman, the redheaded village ratbag, comes from a single parent family. His mum runs the local store. Her name is Dylis and she's always on the hunt for a husband. In the newer episodes she is always flirting with Trevor the dark skinned bus driver. He always seems oblivious to her overtures. BUT...in the older episodes it's Trevor who's always attempting to have Dylis respond to his flirtations. He even calls her "my darling" and "sugarbag". At some point they must have decided that it was politically incorrect for a dark skinned bus driver to be making heavy moves on a white single mother struggling to keep her general store afloat. They've cut out all the endearments, except those made by Dylis to Trevor. Perhaps they thought girls and boys the world over needed to recognise that women were the ones with all the power. That they could be career women, have children and still attract a man.
Henry has noticed the subtle differences. He's noticed that Fireman Sam has the same voice as his nephew James. That Norman is dressed in different clothing. That Jupiter (the firetruck) has a different shape and that Bella, the Italian cafe owner, can't sing. He's not so fussed on the older episodes. The theme song and accomanying introduction is different and Henry refuses to sing along to it. He is a boy who does not like change, who would like for things to stay the same always. In an ever changing world he's never going to be happy. I'm going to have to send him to therapy in order to help him cope.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
New things
We took advantage of the post Christmas long interest free period being offered by the large retailers and bought ourselves something that we've wanted for a long time. It's taken up a lot of our time in the last few days and it's going to take a long time for us to learn how to use it to its full potential. It's a Nikon D40x and so far we love it.
Of course the only thing to do with such a camera is take photos...of ourselves...in the mirror.
Saturday, January 05, 2008
Wet Holiday
This is what you do when you're on holiday and it rains the entire time. You first get wet under the eaves while still in your pyjamas and then strip off and run through the puddles.
We spent a few days with my sister in Maryborough. We were hoping to get to the beach but unfortunately it rained the entire time we were there. It was beautiful, soaking, welcome rain but it left us with little to do in the great outdoors. We did take a few walks in the rain and ride bikes through the puddles until we were covered in mud but other than that we sat around and read books and solved puzzles - lots of them.
Christmas is over for another year and I've taken the tree down already. Now the dreary drudgery of life returns. Back to work for me and daycare for Henry. Maya still has a few weeks left to sleep until midday and then get up and spend the entire day on the internet chatting to her friends. It is of course much more pleasant to chat to them online than it is to see them in person outside of the house.
Fire Hose
Testing out the fire hose that Santa brought. This came with the fireman costume that has not yet been used. The hose however has been put to good use squirting his sister.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Helicopter Christmas
In the lead up to Christmas Henry had told us that he wanted Santa to bring him a Fireman's costume, a fire helmet and a fire hose. Santa searched high and low for those things and found them all. At the last minute Santa also decided to get Henry a toy replica of Tom's Helicopter from his favourite show - Fireman Sam. Once that was opened everything else was forgotten about. He went through the actions of tearing paper off presents but wasn't really interested in anything underneath it. The only thing he truly loved was the helicopter.
He woke late because we'd been out late on Christmas Eve at my parents house. Maya insisted on sleeping in his room beside him so that she would be awake when he woke up but she was up a long time before he was. She kept prodding him and poking him in the hope that she would get him up.
My sisters had called at around 7AM hoping they'd get here in time to see Henry wake up and see what Santa had brought him. He slept until almost 8AM and then took a few minutes to take it all in. He looked around the room, spotted his santa sack full of toys and said "oh, is that for me?" and then set about tearing the paper off whatever was in it.
We spent Christmas Eve at my mum's house and had, of course, a very special and delicious three course meal prepared exclusively by her. My family joined us for Christmas Day at my house. We ate, we drank champage, we played cricket in the park across the road and then played some more board games until late in the evening.
All of us scored this Christmas, especially Henry and Maya.
We hope yours was joyful, peaceful and rowdy all at the same time.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
It's that time
Henry just woke up at 8.30PM after four hours sleep. When I mentioned how tired I was and that I was looking forward to going to bed he told me...
"Mum, you can't go to bed until 20 past a clock ago".
I guess that means I won't be going to bed any time soon.
"Mum, you can't go to bed until 20 past a clock ago".
I guess that means I won't be going to bed any time soon.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Do they know it's Christmas
This is the first year Henry has really been aware of Christmas and that awareness is awesome. It's incredibly joyful to be seeing it through his eyes for the first time but I'm not sure if it's just me but things seem to have much more of a Christmas bent this year. Homes in the streets around our house have suddenly gone all out with the Christmas lighting, people are playing carols at night and there's Christmas everywhere.
It's nice. I love it.
What is very pleasant is that it's not ridiculously hot. We can still breathe and take walks and eat and have conversations comfortably. Normally at this time of the year people are exhausted from the heat and the humidity. They're normally grumpy and find it hard to open their mouths to say hello because if they do they'll use up some of the precious energy they need to keep them alive in the heat.
Last night my mother and stepfather came to collect us to drive us all over town to look at the lights of the suburban houses. We came across one street in which every house had done their bit. It was like a fairyland. There were sausage sizzles to raise money for local charities, people milling around everywhere, kids laughing and bus loads of retirees driving by to check it all out. I would love to live in that street. One little girl told me that people had been asking if there were any houses for sale. Obviously everyone wanted to get in on the spirit.
Because we're finding it so exciting we've decided to host Christmas Day at our house. Of course while one side of my brain was thinking about the nice parts the other was thinking about the work required. I decided there will be no food served that requires cooking. It's going to be cold meat, salads, prawns and oodles of champagne.
Henry is very excited about Santa's visit and would like him to bring a Fireman's costume, a fire hose and Tom's Helicopter (from Fireman Sam). Fortunately Santa was able to find most of those things and more.
It's nice. I love it.
What is very pleasant is that it's not ridiculously hot. We can still breathe and take walks and eat and have conversations comfortably. Normally at this time of the year people are exhausted from the heat and the humidity. They're normally grumpy and find it hard to open their mouths to say hello because if they do they'll use up some of the precious energy they need to keep them alive in the heat.
Last night my mother and stepfather came to collect us to drive us all over town to look at the lights of the suburban houses. We came across one street in which every house had done their bit. It was like a fairyland. There were sausage sizzles to raise money for local charities, people milling around everywhere, kids laughing and bus loads of retirees driving by to check it all out. I would love to live in that street. One little girl told me that people had been asking if there were any houses for sale. Obviously everyone wanted to get in on the spirit.
Because we're finding it so exciting we've decided to host Christmas Day at our house. Of course while one side of my brain was thinking about the nice parts the other was thinking about the work required. I decided there will be no food served that requires cooking. It's going to be cold meat, salads, prawns and oodles of champagne.
Henry is very excited about Santa's visit and would like him to bring a Fireman's costume, a fire hose and Tom's Helicopter (from Fireman Sam). Fortunately Santa was able to find most of those things and more.
Monday, December 10, 2007
It's Christmas Time in the City
This year Myer's display is based on Graeme Base's book, Uno's Garden. I am not familiar with this book but am with many of his others. The display was very artistically clever and colourful but it wasn't christmassy in any way. In fact the city was decidedly lacking in Christmas spirit. If it weren't for the odd fairy lights strung up in the shops and the giant Christmas tree it could have been any other time of the year.
The thrill for Henry was the ride into the city and home on the train.
Sunday, December 02, 2007
Firefighter Ablutions
Henry: Mum, does Fireman Sam have a doody?
Me: Yes he does. He's a boy just like you
Henry: But he doesn't go to the toilet?
Me: He does. just like you do
Henry: But he doesn't have a toilet at the Fire Station
Me: Doesn't he?
Henry: No, he had to go and buy one at the shop.
Me: Yes he does. He's a boy just like you
Henry: But he doesn't go to the toilet?
Me: He does. just like you do
Henry: But he doesn't have a toilet at the Fire Station
Me: Doesn't he?
Henry: No, he had to go and buy one at the shop.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Doin' The Lips
This is what happens when you let your children loose with a digital camera. They band together and against you. They become facial contortionists behind your back. They conspire against you and get along with each other. Maybe I should let them have the camera more often.
They call this pose "The Lips" even though they didn't manage to get a photo of themselves both pouting their lips at the same time.
Our New Toy
Check it out! This new toy arrived yesterday. It's a gift from Ben's mother in the U. S. of A. and it is totally cool! It's a video phone and comes with a US telephone number. Now we can keep in touch with her and other family members in the States by calling them as though we were right next door. No need to dail a country code or anything. We simply pick it up and dial her number direct and Voila! We can even see each other. Because it comes with a US number we would need to call our neighbours in Australia by dialling the Australian country code first. What we can do though is easily order pizza's for everyone in the states for the cost of a local call. Kind of! We'll test it out for its prank factor later and report back. Until then Henry and Grandma can see each other each time they speak now. Henry's already shown her his Fireman Sam truck and told her all about what Santa is going to bring him.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Meeting my old T-shirts
Today I caught up with some friends of mine. People I used to work with. Some of the nicest, funniest and most interesting people I've had the pleasure of knowing. It was like slipping back into a favourite T-shirt, one that you thought you'd lost but found again lying under the bed in amongst the dust.
We visited an old favourite lunching haunt. A vietnamese restaurant in the Valley, aptly named The Vietnamese. The food is cheap but good. The company was comfortable, the conversation and laughs flowed easily...all that without a drop of booze!
As I get older I have less of a social life but I also find it harder to meet people I feel a connection with. Maybe it's just me but I find it harder to meet kind, friendly and patient people. Everyone is in a rush (including me), time poor (including me) and more interested in the size of their mortgage and investment portfolio than they are in the people that live within their community. So it was so nice today to meet with the people that used to make me laugh until my sides hurt - and still do. It was great to hear about their latest projects, their dreams and aspirations and their everyday struggles. We were a mixed bunch but we were a great team. Respectful of each other but at the same time comfortable enough to tell each other where to get off.
It's dates like these that restore my faith. That remind me that people do still have fun, that they care about each other and still find life interesting and challenging.
I must do more of it. I'm as guilty of the next person of not making an effort. My new year's resolutions list will be long and maybe some of them will get shot down before they get started because they'll be impossible to keep but I feel happy enough today to start the list.
We visited an old favourite lunching haunt. A vietnamese restaurant in the Valley, aptly named The Vietnamese. The food is cheap but good. The company was comfortable, the conversation and laughs flowed easily...all that without a drop of booze!
As I get older I have less of a social life but I also find it harder to meet people I feel a connection with. Maybe it's just me but I find it harder to meet kind, friendly and patient people. Everyone is in a rush (including me), time poor (including me) and more interested in the size of their mortgage and investment portfolio than they are in the people that live within their community. So it was so nice today to meet with the people that used to make me laugh until my sides hurt - and still do. It was great to hear about their latest projects, their dreams and aspirations and their everyday struggles. We were a mixed bunch but we were a great team. Respectful of each other but at the same time comfortable enough to tell each other where to get off.
It's dates like these that restore my faith. That remind me that people do still have fun, that they care about each other and still find life interesting and challenging.
I must do more of it. I'm as guilty of the next person of not making an effort. My new year's resolutions list will be long and maybe some of them will get shot down before they get started because they'll be impossible to keep but I feel happy enough today to start the list.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
FOUR doors!
So we have a new second hand car. Picked it up Thursday night. I can't tell you how nice it is. The move to four doors was worth every dollar the bank paid for it. I don't have photos yet because I haven't taken any but it's white and in case I haven't mentioned it already it has four doors. I've counted them several times to make sure I'm not dreaming. FOUR doors. That means no more back pain trying to heave Henry in and out of his seat in the back. No more slamming back of the front seat in order to just get to the back seat. I would talk about the other features but they pale in comparison to the fact that it has FOUR doors. Alright... I will anyway. It has one of those cute little buttons that you can press to lock and unlock the doors. Handy but not as handy as having FOUR doors. It's also a lot more comfortable to drive and ride in.
When I bought our old car there was only Maya and me so it was no big deal. The family was extended to three when Ben arrived on the scene and then four when Henry made his entrance into the world. We wanted to buy a bigger car when Henry was born but we just couldn't afford it. We put up with it and then bought a cheap volvo from our friend who moved to NZ. We got our money worth out of that car and then it just kind of started to cost too much money to repair so we ditched it. We then bought another cheap car from some other friends who moved to France but it isn't roomy. Ben drives that around and loves it. It's by no means a car for a family of four though. As Henry got bigger and heavier we kept talking about buying a bigger car but never got around to doing anything about it. Eventually I'd had enough. I could no longer take the two doors. It was time to upgrade.
We narrowed down our options with the help of a book called the dog and lemon guide to cars. If ever you're considering buying a car I recommend you invest $20 and read it. With the help of that book we decided we wanted a Toyota Camry or Corolla. We already knew we wanted only 4 cylinders, a car that was cheap to run and maintain and would last a lifetime, and was considered relatively safe. The Dog and Lemon Guide helped us by recommending highly the Camry or Corolla. Next came the price. We had originally decided we really only wanted to spend $10 000 but because those cars hold their value so well we were looking at a car that was as old as the one we already had. Seemed a bit stupid if we were to really go for something that was going to last. We decided to go higher. We ended up with a 2004 Corolla with only 30 000klms on the clock. It is immaculate. Looks like it's never been driven. It was owned by a guy and his wife who were pedantic about keeping it clean and tidy. It still smells new.
So now we're driving in style. It's no longer a chore for me to get in the car and do stuff. At first Henry was a little dubious. He didn't want a new car. He kept saying "No Mama, we need our old little car". When we picked it up he refused to ride in it and insisted on travelling home in the old car. The following day however, lured by the button pressing locks he was convinced that the new car was indeed a beauty.
Maya wanted to be delivered to school in it. On the way I drove right by Henry's daycare and he told me I'd forgotten to drop him off. I told him that I hadn't and would do it as soon as I had dropped Maya off as she wanted me to take her to school in it. "No she doesn't, Henry wants to go to school in the new car" is what he told me. Unfortunately he now thinks he's king in it and won't allow anyone to touch anything in it unless he gives the go ahead. If we adjust the radio he's like "No. Don't touch that. That's the new car radio"!
I know the excitement will wear off in time but for now. We're lovin' it!
When I bought our old car there was only Maya and me so it was no big deal. The family was extended to three when Ben arrived on the scene and then four when Henry made his entrance into the world. We wanted to buy a bigger car when Henry was born but we just couldn't afford it. We put up with it and then bought a cheap volvo from our friend who moved to NZ. We got our money worth out of that car and then it just kind of started to cost too much money to repair so we ditched it. We then bought another cheap car from some other friends who moved to France but it isn't roomy. Ben drives that around and loves it. It's by no means a car for a family of four though. As Henry got bigger and heavier we kept talking about buying a bigger car but never got around to doing anything about it. Eventually I'd had enough. I could no longer take the two doors. It was time to upgrade.
We narrowed down our options with the help of a book called the dog and lemon guide to cars. If ever you're considering buying a car I recommend you invest $20 and read it. With the help of that book we decided we wanted a Toyota Camry or Corolla. We already knew we wanted only 4 cylinders, a car that was cheap to run and maintain and would last a lifetime, and was considered relatively safe. The Dog and Lemon Guide helped us by recommending highly the Camry or Corolla. Next came the price. We had originally decided we really only wanted to spend $10 000 but because those cars hold their value so well we were looking at a car that was as old as the one we already had. Seemed a bit stupid if we were to really go for something that was going to last. We decided to go higher. We ended up with a 2004 Corolla with only 30 000klms on the clock. It is immaculate. Looks like it's never been driven. It was owned by a guy and his wife who were pedantic about keeping it clean and tidy. It still smells new.
So now we're driving in style. It's no longer a chore for me to get in the car and do stuff. At first Henry was a little dubious. He didn't want a new car. He kept saying "No Mama, we need our old little car". When we picked it up he refused to ride in it and insisted on travelling home in the old car. The following day however, lured by the button pressing locks he was convinced that the new car was indeed a beauty.
Maya wanted to be delivered to school in it. On the way I drove right by Henry's daycare and he told me I'd forgotten to drop him off. I told him that I hadn't and would do it as soon as I had dropped Maya off as she wanted me to take her to school in it. "No she doesn't, Henry wants to go to school in the new car" is what he told me. Unfortunately he now thinks he's king in it and won't allow anyone to touch anything in it unless he gives the go ahead. If we adjust the radio he's like "No. Don't touch that. That's the new car radio"!
I know the excitement will wear off in time but for now. We're lovin' it!
Friday, November 16, 2007
My Girl & Her Friend
Ah to be this young again and so excited about attending a school dance. I was such a very proud Mama.
She's more excited than I am about the new car we picked up last night. Woo Hoo! And in the words of Homer Simpson in regards to our new found luxuriousness "From now on we'll be spelling everything with letters"!
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Doing What Kids Should (mine at least)
Making mud pies while the cow lingers around hoping they're going to turn into Weet Bix.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
I will survive
You know it's been a bad couple of days when you try to go shopping for a birthday present for your husband whose birthday happens to be today and when you get to the shopping centre the first person you lay eyes on happens to be the police officer who charged you with shoplifting two years ago.
We've been trying to buy a new car and for all intents and purposes we've bought one. The bank has agreed to loan us the money but they're a long time coming forward with the dollars. We're anxious and very much looking forward to having a car with four doors because a car with two doors is only fit for a Barbie doll who gets put into and out of it by a much larger human being. So the week has been so far taken up with trying to sort that out.
Yesterday when I arrived to collect Henry from daycare he came walking over to me very slowly which in itself is unusual. He normally bounds into my arms and wraps his arms around my neck as though he hasn't seen me in months. I took one look at his pale, bluish face and knew instantly something wasn't right. The ladies there told me he had been very quiet for some time and had been complaining of a headache. I held back from screaming at them that they should have called me earlier and the fact that Henry was sitting quiety should have rung alarm bells for them. He NEVER does that.
I picked him up and he was limp and appeared to be gasping for breath. I didn't wait around to hear their explanations. I got him into the car and drove straight to the doctor. They agreed to see him straight away but we still had a few moments to wait. I sat him on the chair and he flopped down into it. His lips started turning blue. He still appeared to be gasping for air. I tried to remain calm and refrain from screaming that someone had to call an ambulance. The receptionist showed me to a room and we waited for a few more minutes before the doctor came. He sat on my lap so quietly. He was clammy and grey. Then he threw up. The doctor came and checked him over and decided he probably had a tummy bug. He seemed to pick up a bit after he got whatever it was in his system that didn't agree with him out.
By the time we got home he was almost back to normal. He wanted food and drinks and his colour had returned. He went to bed reasonably early and had an uneventful night until he woke up to vomit again at 5AM. He's been fine ever since. If it was a tummy bug it seems to have been short lived.
Poor Ben had to wake up to a distinct lack of birthday gifts this morning because I simply haven't had a chance to get to the shops to find something. Feeling bad and noting that Henry seemed fine I decided to take a chance on taking him to the shops with me to get something. Taking Henry to the shops is sometimes akin to deliberately grating my knuckles on the cheesegrater. It's painful and useless. I told myself it wouldn't take long, we'd just duck in and come straight back out.
Despite my promise never to go there again after being charged with shoplifting when I unknowlingly walked out of the store with $4.00 worth of children's undies hanging on the side of the pram, I headed directly to Myareyouashoplifter because I thought I would find more of a range of gifts all in the one location.
As I walked in the door a saleslady hawking beds that were drastically marked down bailed me up in an attempt to have me lie on one in order to convince me that my chiropractic problems would be solved just by handing over a store card. While she was doing so Henry decided to slip away while he had the chance. I didn't even notice him do it. I turned to grab his hand but he wasn't there. As we were close to the Thomas the Tank ride I thought he must have headed directly to that. I wasn't concerned because that's what he always does. I had to cut the saleslady off short and while she was mid sentence I just took off in search of him. When I got there and he wasn't there I immediately started to panic. I started running up and down the centre calling out his name. I knocked people out of my way and ran in and out of shops in the hope he was in one of them. I rode down the escalator wondering if he'd gone out into the carpark. As I was about to concede defeat and head for security I saw him with two ladies. He was crying his eyes out as he realised he was lost. They were looking around searchingly but with a look on their face that said "what kind of mother loses her kid in a shopping centre". I guess I can't blame them for thinking that as Henry was still in his pyjamas because they're his favourites and he didn't want to take them off to go shopping. He thinks he looks very cool in them. I didn't care. I just needed to go to the shops and didn't have the time for arguing. When he saw me he came running towards me and grabbed hold of my legs. I waved to the two women he had been standing with and they responded with a scowl. I deserved it I guess but they are probably the kind of mothers who are able to bake a batch of cookies at the same time as braiding their daughter's hair and ironing their husband's underpants.
So with that little drama sorted I headed back to Myareyouashoplifter. I had Henry in my arms who was screaming in protest at having to be confined. As I walked in the door this time the police officer was walking directly towards me. We locked eyes. I stared my most Ugly Mean Trailer Trash Woman stare while Henry was doing his best to escape my clutches and yelling "Mum, I don't like it!" at the fact that I was holding him so tight. "Great" I thought. "Not only have I almost lost my child this morning, I've also run across Little Miss Chargey Pants in the same place I was caught unknowingly thieving. And my son is screaming at me as though I've been torturing him". I wondered if the day could possibly get any worse.
It took us about 45 mintues to get to the section of the store that I wanted because in their desperate bid to cash in on the Christmas spending they've strategically placed all manner of sparkling, colourful, glittering eye candy that children just love to poke and yank.
We finally got where we needed to be, quickly grabbed the first thing off the shelf we could find, took it to the counter, paid and proceeded to leave. Of course it's never that easy. On our way out Henry heard and spotted the Christmas shop that is full of North Pole Express trains running around Christmas Tree displays. Not wanting to make a scene and have him throw a fit right there in the menswear department where lovely home making ladies were talking to sales people about having a tailor take up pants for their husbands, I caved in and took him to see all the thousands of Santas riding the express and hanging from fake tree branches. He ooed and aahhed and would have stayed there for hours had I not bribed him away with the promise of a treat.
We went to lunch, I managed to get him to sit quietly and eat for about 15 minutes then decided I'd try to get him a haircut at the Barber before we left. This particular Barber doesn't take appointments and because they're so popular you just line up like you're in a cattle chute wait to be released. The line up didn't seem too long so I decided to risk it. His hair resembled an electrocuted cat and I didn't want to take him public anymore like that because that, combined with his pyjamas, was making me look like a bad mama. We sat down on a bench and waited. Problem was we happened to be sitting right next to a sour faced old Granny who wore painted-on eyebrows and pursed lips. As we approached she clutched her handbag to her and turned around and gave Henry, who was jumping on and off the chair, a death stare. She then turned to me and said "I don't like what Julie did to my hair today. Next time I'll tell her to give me my old colour back. She didn't even ask me, just did it". She looked like she was about to burst into tears. I almost felt sorry for her until she said "I'm glad that kid is yours and not mine. I don't know how you cope with him". All my protective instincts came into play and I simply said "I cope because I love him". She then started to tell me her husband had left her there waiting for over an hour. She had no idea where he was and he had never left her that long before. I also heard about how she has no time for her grandkids and great grandkids. I really felt sorry for her then because I realised how lonely and sad her life must be.
We finally got called into the hair dresser and while I won't say Henry was co-operative he at least didn't keep trying to escape from the chair this time. Job done. It was time to head home and by this stage he was happy to go without complaint. He came home and fell asleep and I decided that I'd upload all the recent photos from the camera to the computer and update my blog. Of course nothing ever goes smoothly and for some reason the computer won't recognise the camera which is why I have no new photos to show you...
Now, I'm going to call a mental health helpline...
We've been trying to buy a new car and for all intents and purposes we've bought one. The bank has agreed to loan us the money but they're a long time coming forward with the dollars. We're anxious and very much looking forward to having a car with four doors because a car with two doors is only fit for a Barbie doll who gets put into and out of it by a much larger human being. So the week has been so far taken up with trying to sort that out.
Yesterday when I arrived to collect Henry from daycare he came walking over to me very slowly which in itself is unusual. He normally bounds into my arms and wraps his arms around my neck as though he hasn't seen me in months. I took one look at his pale, bluish face and knew instantly something wasn't right. The ladies there told me he had been very quiet for some time and had been complaining of a headache. I held back from screaming at them that they should have called me earlier and the fact that Henry was sitting quiety should have rung alarm bells for them. He NEVER does that.
I picked him up and he was limp and appeared to be gasping for breath. I didn't wait around to hear their explanations. I got him into the car and drove straight to the doctor. They agreed to see him straight away but we still had a few moments to wait. I sat him on the chair and he flopped down into it. His lips started turning blue. He still appeared to be gasping for air. I tried to remain calm and refrain from screaming that someone had to call an ambulance. The receptionist showed me to a room and we waited for a few more minutes before the doctor came. He sat on my lap so quietly. He was clammy and grey. Then he threw up. The doctor came and checked him over and decided he probably had a tummy bug. He seemed to pick up a bit after he got whatever it was in his system that didn't agree with him out.
By the time we got home he was almost back to normal. He wanted food and drinks and his colour had returned. He went to bed reasonably early and had an uneventful night until he woke up to vomit again at 5AM. He's been fine ever since. If it was a tummy bug it seems to have been short lived.
Poor Ben had to wake up to a distinct lack of birthday gifts this morning because I simply haven't had a chance to get to the shops to find something. Feeling bad and noting that Henry seemed fine I decided to take a chance on taking him to the shops with me to get something. Taking Henry to the shops is sometimes akin to deliberately grating my knuckles on the cheesegrater. It's painful and useless. I told myself it wouldn't take long, we'd just duck in and come straight back out.
Despite my promise never to go there again after being charged with shoplifting when I unknowlingly walked out of the store with $4.00 worth of children's undies hanging on the side of the pram, I headed directly to Myareyouashoplifter because I thought I would find more of a range of gifts all in the one location.
As I walked in the door a saleslady hawking beds that were drastically marked down bailed me up in an attempt to have me lie on one in order to convince me that my chiropractic problems would be solved just by handing over a store card. While she was doing so Henry decided to slip away while he had the chance. I didn't even notice him do it. I turned to grab his hand but he wasn't there. As we were close to the Thomas the Tank ride I thought he must have headed directly to that. I wasn't concerned because that's what he always does. I had to cut the saleslady off short and while she was mid sentence I just took off in search of him. When I got there and he wasn't there I immediately started to panic. I started running up and down the centre calling out his name. I knocked people out of my way and ran in and out of shops in the hope he was in one of them. I rode down the escalator wondering if he'd gone out into the carpark. As I was about to concede defeat and head for security I saw him with two ladies. He was crying his eyes out as he realised he was lost. They were looking around searchingly but with a look on their face that said "what kind of mother loses her kid in a shopping centre". I guess I can't blame them for thinking that as Henry was still in his pyjamas because they're his favourites and he didn't want to take them off to go shopping. He thinks he looks very cool in them. I didn't care. I just needed to go to the shops and didn't have the time for arguing. When he saw me he came running towards me and grabbed hold of my legs. I waved to the two women he had been standing with and they responded with a scowl. I deserved it I guess but they are probably the kind of mothers who are able to bake a batch of cookies at the same time as braiding their daughter's hair and ironing their husband's underpants.
So with that little drama sorted I headed back to Myareyouashoplifter. I had Henry in my arms who was screaming in protest at having to be confined. As I walked in the door this time the police officer was walking directly towards me. We locked eyes. I stared my most Ugly Mean Trailer Trash Woman stare while Henry was doing his best to escape my clutches and yelling "Mum, I don't like it!" at the fact that I was holding him so tight. "Great" I thought. "Not only have I almost lost my child this morning, I've also run across Little Miss Chargey Pants in the same place I was caught unknowingly thieving. And my son is screaming at me as though I've been torturing him". I wondered if the day could possibly get any worse.
It took us about 45 mintues to get to the section of the store that I wanted because in their desperate bid to cash in on the Christmas spending they've strategically placed all manner of sparkling, colourful, glittering eye candy that children just love to poke and yank.
We finally got where we needed to be, quickly grabbed the first thing off the shelf we could find, took it to the counter, paid and proceeded to leave. Of course it's never that easy. On our way out Henry heard and spotted the Christmas shop that is full of North Pole Express trains running around Christmas Tree displays. Not wanting to make a scene and have him throw a fit right there in the menswear department where lovely home making ladies were talking to sales people about having a tailor take up pants for their husbands, I caved in and took him to see all the thousands of Santas riding the express and hanging from fake tree branches. He ooed and aahhed and would have stayed there for hours had I not bribed him away with the promise of a treat.
We went to lunch, I managed to get him to sit quietly and eat for about 15 minutes then decided I'd try to get him a haircut at the Barber before we left. This particular Barber doesn't take appointments and because they're so popular you just line up like you're in a cattle chute wait to be released. The line up didn't seem too long so I decided to risk it. His hair resembled an electrocuted cat and I didn't want to take him public anymore like that because that, combined with his pyjamas, was making me look like a bad mama. We sat down on a bench and waited. Problem was we happened to be sitting right next to a sour faced old Granny who wore painted-on eyebrows and pursed lips. As we approached she clutched her handbag to her and turned around and gave Henry, who was jumping on and off the chair, a death stare. She then turned to me and said "I don't like what Julie did to my hair today. Next time I'll tell her to give me my old colour back. She didn't even ask me, just did it". She looked like she was about to burst into tears. I almost felt sorry for her until she said "I'm glad that kid is yours and not mine. I don't know how you cope with him". All my protective instincts came into play and I simply said "I cope because I love him". She then started to tell me her husband had left her there waiting for over an hour. She had no idea where he was and he had never left her that long before. I also heard about how she has no time for her grandkids and great grandkids. I really felt sorry for her then because I realised how lonely and sad her life must be.
We finally got called into the hair dresser and while I won't say Henry was co-operative he at least didn't keep trying to escape from the chair this time. Job done. It was time to head home and by this stage he was happy to go without complaint. He came home and fell asleep and I decided that I'd upload all the recent photos from the camera to the computer and update my blog. Of course nothing ever goes smoothly and for some reason the computer won't recognise the camera which is why I have no new photos to show you...
Now, I'm going to call a mental health helpline...
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Memory
It seemed to happen in just one small moment. One minute I was childless, the next I wasn't. In that moment it seems I lost all memory of what my life was like before the breathing, squirming bundle of baby was placed in my arms.
I had no expectations of what my life might be like once I became a mother. I'd been a nanny, taken care of my nephew and spent lots of time with small children but I knew that would never be preparation enough for what was to come. I don't think anything can prepare you for it. The beautiful child you bring into the world becomes solely your responsiblity once it's handed over to your care. You leave the hospital on a high like you've never known before. You don't yet know that you're still going to be able to love that baby like you've never loved anything else, even when it's been screaming for days on end and you've not slept for what feels like weeks.
Today while sitting in the doctor's surgery yet again with Henry, a young couple came in with a baby that seemed to be only days old. The father held that baby so lovingly and so gently that it almost made me cry. Its mother moved slowly, as though someone had sapped the life right out of her. She managed to manouveur herself over to the reception desk and gave her particulars. She then slowly made her way back to take a seat beside her husband and child. She slumped down in her chair, leaned forward and put her face in her hands. I wondered if she were about to start sobbing. She looked up, leaned back, raised her head and stared into space. The baby started to fuss beside her in its father's arms. The mother moved her head sideways to glance in its general direction. She seemed so tired, almost like she didn't even have the strength to care. She looked defeated - as though having given birth to the child had zapped every ounce of energy she had.
Someone else in the waiting room asked how old the baby was. The father said the baby was five days. The mother gave a halfhearted grin in response because that's all she could muster. She then went back to staring into space.
That got me to thinking about the transition to parenthood and the emotional and physical roller coaster that it is. The expectations that are placed on us that were never there before. The demands that such a small helpless, dependent human can bring when we haven't been fully prepared for it. The overwhelming need to protect and nuture, love and guide another when you haven't yet learned how to do these things for yourself.
Most parents I know, including myself, long for a break, if even just for an hour, of the demands of their small children but when they get them they just wish their children were there with them. This is what they do to us. They tire us out but the idea of life without them seems stupid and wasteful and selfish. No wonder they bring with them a memory eraser.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
The Age of Beep
What is it with appliances that continue to beep at you until you pay them some attention? They're worse than nagging children. My microwave oven just won't let up after it's finished heating my food to a fireball until I fetch whatever it is I put in there. Does it think I'm going to forget that I was starving? The intermittent beep beep drives me nuts. I've scanned the manual that came with it to see if there is some way I can turn this off but it appears that I'm stuck with it. I now think twice before placing anythng in it but when I do I feel like giving it a good stern talking to just like I do to Henry, Maya and my husband. I want to tell it that if I don't respond immediately it's because I've been distracted by the need to pee or answer the phone or wipe up a major ice cream spill. I want to ask it to please be patient because I won't forget that I stuck an exploding potato into it.
I find myself wanting to go over there and unplug the thing and hurl it out the window. Ben obviously feels the same way because he's been known to slam his fingers on the door release so hard that it almost breaks the springs. Maya and Henry, well they just wait until someone else prepares their food and places it in their lap.
I am fortunate enough to have a non-electronic version of washing machine but I have friends and relatives who do. Those things do the same thing. The constant beep beep that reminds you your washing has finished and you should be paying attention to your housekeeping duties more closely has been known to drive them insane also.
Is it just that the electronic age uses this option because they can or do they truly believe it's an added "feature" that everyone wants? Why don't they just make them sing a pre-recorded message that says something like "hey stupid, you who believes that your life is so much better off with me, why don't you get off your fat butt and get over here and deal with me. Go on. I dare you
I find myself wanting to go over there and unplug the thing and hurl it out the window. Ben obviously feels the same way because he's been known to slam his fingers on the door release so hard that it almost breaks the springs. Maya and Henry, well they just wait until someone else prepares their food and places it in their lap.
I am fortunate enough to have a non-electronic version of washing machine but I have friends and relatives who do. Those things do the same thing. The constant beep beep that reminds you your washing has finished and you should be paying attention to your housekeeping duties more closely has been known to drive them insane also.
Is it just that the electronic age uses this option because they can or do they truly believe it's an added "feature" that everyone wants? Why don't they just make them sing a pre-recorded message that says something like "hey stupid, you who believes that your life is so much better off with me, why don't you get off your fat butt and get over here and deal with me. Go on. I dare you
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
When you should be something else
Henry has always showered with us since he was a baby because we don't have a bathtub. Last night while getting in the shower Henry noted something...
H: Mum, you don't have a doody.
Me: No, I don't. That's because I'm a girl.
H: Well, we'll have to get you one.
Me: Where would we get one from?
H: From the doody shop. We'll get one next time we go there.
H: Mum, you don't have a doody.
Me: No, I don't. That's because I'm a girl.
H: Well, we'll have to get you one.
Me: Where would we get one from?
H: From the doody shop. We'll get one next time we go there.
Friday, October 05, 2007
Juggling
Henry has recently taken a liking to the computer, or concuter as he calls it. He likes to look at the Curious George website which has all kinds of fascinating games on it. The fruit juggling game is his favourite but the hardest for him to play because he hasn't quite yet learned how to count as well as George. He's hooked on the idea of juggling however and is always looking for things to juggle. He especially likes fruit but juggling real fruit is messy and expensive so this morning I gave him some onions. It was 5.30AM. I wasn't quite feeling alive yet but Henry wanted to juggle and no amount of explaining to him that my eyes were not yet fully open was going to deter him.
Trying to teach a kid to juggle is really hard. I can only juggle two objects with my hands at a time myself. Notice that I said objects and hands because I am quite capable of juggling three million things at once in my mind. But mind juggling doesn't count. My kid can't see what's going on in my head.
So at 5.45AM we were standing in the kitchen with three onions and a muesli bar attempting to juggle. I was unsuccessful and it was frustrating Henry because I couldn't keep them in the air like George does. I gave the onions to him and turned my attention to the kettle. As I did so I was hit in the head with a flying onion. I turned around to find Henry about ready to hike another heavenwards, in the direction of the lightbulb. "Stop" I yelled. You're going to break something. For some reason this caused Henry to double over laughing and ....well suggestion is a powerful thing. The remaining onions were all hurled at lightning speed towards the lightbulb. Fortunately they all missed and crashed to the floor with a terrible thud.
I thought it was about time I paid some attention and tried to explain to Henry, who is only three, how juggling works. I didn't know how to do it. The only words coming from my mouth were - "you have to thing the thing in the air and then the thing passes to the other hand while you thing the other thing..."
Not very succinct. I didn't go anywhere near trying to explain how juggling works. I thought about googling it to see if I could find out if someone else in the world had committed words to screen on the art of juggling. I didn't. Henry became more frustrated by the minute and walked away to watch Curious George doing it for real.
I sat on the floor and cradled my cup of tea and thought about how frustrating raising a child is. Why do they want to know how juggling works at 5.30AM? More importantly why couldn't I come up with a reasonable explanation. I told myself it was because it was only 5.30AM and no sane person would even care about juggling at that hour let alone be trying to explain how it works to a three year old. But...all day I've thought about ways in which I could explain how juggling works to Henry. It won't leave me alone. I'm obsessed, not with juggling but with explaining stuff to my kid and doing it in a way that makes me sound like I almost know what I'm talking about.
Trying to teach a kid to juggle is really hard. I can only juggle two objects with my hands at a time myself. Notice that I said objects and hands because I am quite capable of juggling three million things at once in my mind. But mind juggling doesn't count. My kid can't see what's going on in my head.
So at 5.45AM we were standing in the kitchen with three onions and a muesli bar attempting to juggle. I was unsuccessful and it was frustrating Henry because I couldn't keep them in the air like George does. I gave the onions to him and turned my attention to the kettle. As I did so I was hit in the head with a flying onion. I turned around to find Henry about ready to hike another heavenwards, in the direction of the lightbulb. "Stop" I yelled. You're going to break something. For some reason this caused Henry to double over laughing and ....well suggestion is a powerful thing. The remaining onions were all hurled at lightning speed towards the lightbulb. Fortunately they all missed and crashed to the floor with a terrible thud.
I thought it was about time I paid some attention and tried to explain to Henry, who is only three, how juggling works. I didn't know how to do it. The only words coming from my mouth were - "you have to thing the thing in the air and then the thing passes to the other hand while you thing the other thing..."
Not very succinct. I didn't go anywhere near trying to explain how juggling works. I thought about googling it to see if I could find out if someone else in the world had committed words to screen on the art of juggling. I didn't. Henry became more frustrated by the minute and walked away to watch Curious George doing it for real.
I sat on the floor and cradled my cup of tea and thought about how frustrating raising a child is. Why do they want to know how juggling works at 5.30AM? More importantly why couldn't I come up with a reasonable explanation. I told myself it was because it was only 5.30AM and no sane person would even care about juggling at that hour let alone be trying to explain how it works to a three year old. But...all day I've thought about ways in which I could explain how juggling works to Henry. It won't leave me alone. I'm obsessed, not with juggling but with explaining stuff to my kid and doing it in a way that makes me sound like I almost know what I'm talking about.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Dreaming
My friend Mel left a comment on my last post. She was hoping I was feeling better. I was going to reply to her comment and say yes indeed I was but I woke up this morning feeling like I am dying from something that can kill me. I've been battling my usual springtime sinus infection which invariably leads to my chest but now on top of that I seem to either have another sinus infection or the head cold from hell. It's almost impossible to breathe through my nose. I think there's enough snot in it to fill a vegemite jar which I could then take to work to show to my work mates. I'll tell them I'm conducting a science experiment. Just like I used to at school. That ought to make them pleased I came into work.
The good news is Henry's ears appear to be clearing. Dr Helen took a look at them yesterday and said they were indeed improving. She agreed with me about holding off on surgery unless it was absolutely warranted. I felt a whole lot better after that. Well that was up until I had to go to the supermarket with Henry in tow on the way home.
When I collected Henry from daycare yesterday afternoon he was all alone outside the office of his teacher while all the other children were playing happily in the playground. I asked him what was wrong and he said "I was pushing my friends around and I didn't do what Charmaine said". At least he was forthright about it. I spoke to Charmaine who said she'd given him two warnings and when he didn't listen the third time she took him with her away from the other children for some time out. I found this time out thing a little unusual given that the other naughty child in their group, who carries a dagger to daycare, receives no punishment or time out for his bad behaviour. Maybe because he's special and has ODD (Optional Defiance Disorder). A child who threatens a teacher with a chair is best left alone to do what he likes.
Anyway I had always told Charmaine that I wanted her to use time out for Henry at daycare when he misbehaves as that's what we use at home and it seems to be most effective. So she did. I don't know if some kid had slipped Henry some stimulant drugs in the playground but he was suddenly ODD as well. He loves Doctor Helen and so is always very polite and charming with her but the minute we left there and headed for the supermarket he became the child every parent dreads. By the time we got to the checkout I was ready to chain him to the bike rack outside the doors while I paid for the groceries. He was driving me nuts. I began to wonder if he'd eaten a bag of sugar while I wasn't looking. The young girl at the checkout, who seemed not yet old enough to understand the word "children" let alone be serving at the checkout, glared at Henry while packing my groceries as if she were staring straight into the eyes of hell.
So it took some serious behavioural intervention when we got home to get him to settle down but he eventually did. By then I was almost dead and could feel my head cold getting worse by the second. I went to bed and tried to fall asleep so that I could dream that I would wake up in a new life.
The good news is Henry's ears appear to be clearing. Dr Helen took a look at them yesterday and said they were indeed improving. She agreed with me about holding off on surgery unless it was absolutely warranted. I felt a whole lot better after that. Well that was up until I had to go to the supermarket with Henry in tow on the way home.
When I collected Henry from daycare yesterday afternoon he was all alone outside the office of his teacher while all the other children were playing happily in the playground. I asked him what was wrong and he said "I was pushing my friends around and I didn't do what Charmaine said". At least he was forthright about it. I spoke to Charmaine who said she'd given him two warnings and when he didn't listen the third time she took him with her away from the other children for some time out. I found this time out thing a little unusual given that the other naughty child in their group, who carries a dagger to daycare, receives no punishment or time out for his bad behaviour. Maybe because he's special and has ODD (Optional Defiance Disorder). A child who threatens a teacher with a chair is best left alone to do what he likes.
Anyway I had always told Charmaine that I wanted her to use time out for Henry at daycare when he misbehaves as that's what we use at home and it seems to be most effective. So she did. I don't know if some kid had slipped Henry some stimulant drugs in the playground but he was suddenly ODD as well. He loves Doctor Helen and so is always very polite and charming with her but the minute we left there and headed for the supermarket he became the child every parent dreads. By the time we got to the checkout I was ready to chain him to the bike rack outside the doors while I paid for the groceries. He was driving me nuts. I began to wonder if he'd eaten a bag of sugar while I wasn't looking. The young girl at the checkout, who seemed not yet old enough to understand the word "children" let alone be serving at the checkout, glared at Henry while packing my groceries as if she were staring straight into the eyes of hell.
So it took some serious behavioural intervention when we got home to get him to settle down but he eventually did. By then I was almost dead and could feel my head cold getting worse by the second. I went to bed and tried to fall asleep so that I could dream that I would wake up in a new life.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Give me a pin
Sometimes it feel like things just get too much. When things don't go according to plan for a few weeks in a row I feel like I'm stuck inside an expanding bubble that's building momentum as it rolls down a steep hill. All I can hope for is that it jags on an abandoned stiletto and bursts.
The last few weeks have been like that for me. Yesterday was the day I felt the bubble had rolled long enough but I didn't stumble across any abandoned stilettos. To top of a few weeks of frustration I walk into the surgery of a specialist doctor I've been seeing at three monthly intervals for the past two and a half years and he says I don't really remember you and I should because your case is very interesting. I think my jaw nearly hit the floor. This was the supposed guru I had been told by everyone was the man to see, the person who recently told me to spend two days in the hospital so they could try to work out what was going on, the person who each time I have visited has asked me to retell my story. The last few times I did that I thought it was simply because he wanted an update. When he told me he didn't remember me I thought I was going to have to stand up and bash him stupid with my handbag. I was that frustrated. Mind you I was feeling a little fragile even before I arrived but I think I was justified in my anger.
So I ask him to check his files to refresh his memory. He tells me that would take too long and he wouldn't be able to find everything he needed in a hurry. I offer no response and just stare at him. He starts yawning. By now I've resigned myself to the fact that this visit, like all the others, is a complete waste of time and decide to remain silent. I won't offer anything. If he can't look through his files I can't help him. He talks about stuff I already knew. I walk out no wiser than I was before I arrived.
I spent the rest of the day getting in and out of the car driving kids around dropping them off, picking them up, doing the grocery shopping...I know, it's boring but all I felt like doing yesterday was lying on the couch watching the mindless banter on Ready Steady Cook with a bottle of wine, and a cold pack on my forehead.
Because Henry hadn't slept he was like some wild feral child who had been found wandering around the jungle communicating only with animals by the time I collected him from my mother and brought him home. He's been sick again and a recent visit to the ENT specialist has revealed that he'll likely need grommets in his ears. His entire winter was spent with an ear infection, treated by antibiotics. It just never cleared up fully and has now become "glue ear". We've booked him in for the surgery, on my birthday no less, but I'm hoping that it may clear up on it's own before then as I don't want to have to subject him to a general anesthetic if it's not necessary. It's possible that it will now that the warmer weather is upon us. If it doesn't and we don't get the grommets he could have permanent hearing loss and possible further infections elsewhere. The ridiculous thing is that the plastic grommets themselves - little plastic tubes - cost a grand total of $40. The operation to insert them will cost over $1000.
Maya is home for the next two weeks because it's school holidays. She's planned shopping trips but has no money because she hasn't worked for a couple of weeks as she was sick and then away at school camp. She's going to ask me for some but I have none to give her either and even if I did I wouldn't be handing it over as she will only buy more clothes she doesn't need. She has her school semi-formal coming up - in November- but for some reason all of her friends bought their dresses like way back in grade 8 (not quite but very early) and Maya has been nagging me to take her shopping so she could buy hers. We did last weekend and bought something fabulous that was also fabulously priced. I had been discouraging her from trying to get it so soon as I know her too well. Once she owns something she is over it and wants something else. I had advised her to leave it until only a couple of weeks prior to the formal so there was less chance she'd grow to hate it and want something else. But no...mother's don't know anything. It had to be bought soon, like now, because everyone else had theirs. We searched through what seemed like several hundreds shops, some of them Maya declared too old lady, some just plain ugly. Just as we were about to give up we spotted a dress - she loved it, tried it on and it looked perfect. Beautiful! We both agreed that it was just right. We hadn't yet looked at the price tag of it and I was expecting maybe $150 at least. I snuck a peek and when I saw the orange sale price tag that said $9.95 I couldn't believe it. I rushed outside to the rack to check the others and found that it was indeed marked down to $9.95. I ran back screaming to Maya - Oh my God, it's like only $9.95, oh my God. She cringed and hid down in the corner of the dressing room.
We paid for the dress and left. As we were walking out of the centre only five minutes later Maya says "I'm not really in love with that dress." I knew it, I knew it was going to happen but I didn't think it would be so soon. I thought it might take a day but five minutes. I blew my stack right there in the shopping centre, in front of all the shoppers, who were shopping - I said all the usual things like I knew it, I knew you would do this, that's it, if you want another dress you have to ask your father, I've done my bit. God, you're so ungrateful. I just spent a whole $9.95 on a dress for you and this is how you show your gratitude. Just like it doesn't matter that I nearly went broke for you.
Poor thing, she skulked to the car, came home and took the dress to show her friend who declared it beautiful and perfect and stunning. She was fine after that and hasn't asked me for another one yet. She will though.
I hope my bubble bursts today so I can breathe again.
The last few weeks have been like that for me. Yesterday was the day I felt the bubble had rolled long enough but I didn't stumble across any abandoned stilettos. To top of a few weeks of frustration I walk into the surgery of a specialist doctor I've been seeing at three monthly intervals for the past two and a half years and he says I don't really remember you and I should because your case is very interesting. I think my jaw nearly hit the floor. This was the supposed guru I had been told by everyone was the man to see, the person who recently told me to spend two days in the hospital so they could try to work out what was going on, the person who each time I have visited has asked me to retell my story. The last few times I did that I thought it was simply because he wanted an update. When he told me he didn't remember me I thought I was going to have to stand up and bash him stupid with my handbag. I was that frustrated. Mind you I was feeling a little fragile even before I arrived but I think I was justified in my anger.
So I ask him to check his files to refresh his memory. He tells me that would take too long and he wouldn't be able to find everything he needed in a hurry. I offer no response and just stare at him. He starts yawning. By now I've resigned myself to the fact that this visit, like all the others, is a complete waste of time and decide to remain silent. I won't offer anything. If he can't look through his files I can't help him. He talks about stuff I already knew. I walk out no wiser than I was before I arrived.
I spent the rest of the day getting in and out of the car driving kids around dropping them off, picking them up, doing the grocery shopping...I know, it's boring but all I felt like doing yesterday was lying on the couch watching the mindless banter on Ready Steady Cook with a bottle of wine, and a cold pack on my forehead.
Because Henry hadn't slept he was like some wild feral child who had been found wandering around the jungle communicating only with animals by the time I collected him from my mother and brought him home. He's been sick again and a recent visit to the ENT specialist has revealed that he'll likely need grommets in his ears. His entire winter was spent with an ear infection, treated by antibiotics. It just never cleared up fully and has now become "glue ear". We've booked him in for the surgery, on my birthday no less, but I'm hoping that it may clear up on it's own before then as I don't want to have to subject him to a general anesthetic if it's not necessary. It's possible that it will now that the warmer weather is upon us. If it doesn't and we don't get the grommets he could have permanent hearing loss and possible further infections elsewhere. The ridiculous thing is that the plastic grommets themselves - little plastic tubes - cost a grand total of $40. The operation to insert them will cost over $1000.
Maya is home for the next two weeks because it's school holidays. She's planned shopping trips but has no money because she hasn't worked for a couple of weeks as she was sick and then away at school camp. She's going to ask me for some but I have none to give her either and even if I did I wouldn't be handing it over as she will only buy more clothes she doesn't need. She has her school semi-formal coming up - in November- but for some reason all of her friends bought their dresses like way back in grade 8 (not quite but very early) and Maya has been nagging me to take her shopping so she could buy hers. We did last weekend and bought something fabulous that was also fabulously priced. I had been discouraging her from trying to get it so soon as I know her too well. Once she owns something she is over it and wants something else. I had advised her to leave it until only a couple of weeks prior to the formal so there was less chance she'd grow to hate it and want something else. But no...mother's don't know anything. It had to be bought soon, like now, because everyone else had theirs. We searched through what seemed like several hundreds shops, some of them Maya declared too old lady, some just plain ugly. Just as we were about to give up we spotted a dress - she loved it, tried it on and it looked perfect. Beautiful! We both agreed that it was just right. We hadn't yet looked at the price tag of it and I was expecting maybe $150 at least. I snuck a peek and when I saw the orange sale price tag that said $9.95 I couldn't believe it. I rushed outside to the rack to check the others and found that it was indeed marked down to $9.95. I ran back screaming to Maya - Oh my God, it's like only $9.95, oh my God. She cringed and hid down in the corner of the dressing room.
We paid for the dress and left. As we were walking out of the centre only five minutes later Maya says "I'm not really in love with that dress." I knew it, I knew it was going to happen but I didn't think it would be so soon. I thought it might take a day but five minutes. I blew my stack right there in the shopping centre, in front of all the shoppers, who were shopping - I said all the usual things like I knew it, I knew you would do this, that's it, if you want another dress you have to ask your father, I've done my bit. God, you're so ungrateful. I just spent a whole $9.95 on a dress for you and this is how you show your gratitude. Just like it doesn't matter that I nearly went broke for you.
Poor thing, she skulked to the car, came home and took the dress to show her friend who declared it beautiful and perfect and stunning. She was fine after that and hasn't asked me for another one yet. She will though.
I hope my bubble bursts today so I can breathe again.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
A year makes all the difference
While recently babysitting a friend's four year old who was inserting a game into the XBOX console.
C: This game's really old. It was my dad's game when he was three.
Me: I didn't think they had XBOX when your dad was three.
C: Oh, he must have been four.
C: This game's really old. It was my dad's game when he was three.
Me: I didn't think they had XBOX when your dad was three.
C: Oh, he must have been four.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Boy Meets Girl
I'm slowly learning that my son can be completely charming when he wants to be. This cute little bundle of sweet girl child that Henry was lucky enough to spend some time with recently survived his hurly gurly madness.
Eva, and her parents were in Australia this past weekend all the way from New Zealand. This was the first time we had met her because she was born in New Zealand after her mother moved back there three years ago. She is so incredibly sweet that it almost makes me want to try for another in the hopes that I can reproduce her. Not only is she super intelligent but she is gentle, quiet and reasonably calm. If it could be guaranteed that any child I gave birth to was like her I would do it a million times.
Her parents left her with us for a night while they went and enjoyed some adult time alone. She went to bed here in a strange bed in a strange house with nary a peep. When she woke in the morning she behaved as if she'd spent oodles of time with us. She was happy and comfortable in our presence and Henry didn't try to beat her up even once.
Since she left he's been wandering around the house finding things that she didn't break (as if she would) and declaring everything to be ok.
Ben has only said approximately 23 times that Eva was the sort of child he expected Henry to be when he first learned we were pregnant. Still, I love the one we did get.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
The Gender Difference
I have a son and I have a daughter. That means I have one of each. No need to say duh! out loud because I already said it to myself. I know that one daughter and one son means that I have two children, one of each sex. I've been lucky enough to get one of each with only two attempts at it. I often wonder though what it may have been like if I had two of the same sex, born close enough together to like each other enough to play Barbie, or trucks at the same time or at the very least, in the same room. The two I have don't like to play together very often and I'm left wondering about their differences. One is their age, the other is their gender. My girl, when she was Henry's age was delightful, smart, funny and cute but she also had that thing that only girls appear to have - a very short emotional fuse. She was active but wasn't trying to kill herself by climbing on ladders while carrying a screwdriver that she thought would help her fix the light socket. She was more of a sensitive, caring and temperamental child - meaning that she would scream the house down when she was tired and couldn't have chocolate for dinner.
Henry, my boy child, well he's just more like - look here you people, this is the way I like and this is the way it will be. There is no room for negotiation and if you try to stop me I will likely snub you for up to 24 hours.
Henry also NEVER SITS STILL EVER. He should have been born with a danger label stuck on his forehead and some yellow and black luminescent tape holding his legs and arms to his body rendering him incapable of jumping, climbing and running through automatically opening doors just as they're about to close. If someone had told me that I would be trading the emotional blackouts for having to constantly be on my guard in order to keep my child alive I would have made sure I gave birth to only a girl child. At least I could sit for hours with earplugs in my ears while Maya wailed about not being able to get Barbie's undies over her hips. With Henry I have to be on alert at all times. As a result of this not much gets done around here. Dinner has become a free for all - if you can find food that has not yet turned rotten, eat it but do it quick because you might have to save Henry from getting his head trapped in the washing machine.
I have a teenager and as far as teenagers go I couldn't ask for a better one. She's sensible, smart and thoughtful (I know this could end at any minute) but I just know I'm still going to have to follow Henry everywhere when he's Maya's age to make sure he comes home alive. Henry's smart and thoughtful too at age three but he just needs to fix things and he doesn't think yet about how he's going to fix them and I'm not sure he ever will.
Henry, my boy child, well he's just more like - look here you people, this is the way I like and this is the way it will be. There is no room for negotiation and if you try to stop me I will likely snub you for up to 24 hours.
Henry also NEVER SITS STILL EVER. He should have been born with a danger label stuck on his forehead and some yellow and black luminescent tape holding his legs and arms to his body rendering him incapable of jumping, climbing and running through automatically opening doors just as they're about to close. If someone had told me that I would be trading the emotional blackouts for having to constantly be on my guard in order to keep my child alive I would have made sure I gave birth to only a girl child. At least I could sit for hours with earplugs in my ears while Maya wailed about not being able to get Barbie's undies over her hips. With Henry I have to be on alert at all times. As a result of this not much gets done around here. Dinner has become a free for all - if you can find food that has not yet turned rotten, eat it but do it quick because you might have to save Henry from getting his head trapped in the washing machine.
I have a teenager and as far as teenagers go I couldn't ask for a better one. She's sensible, smart and thoughtful (I know this could end at any minute) but I just know I'm still going to have to follow Henry everywhere when he's Maya's age to make sure he comes home alive. Henry's smart and thoughtful too at age three but he just needs to fix things and he doesn't think yet about how he's going to fix them and I'm not sure he ever will.
Saturday, September 01, 2007
Doritos to the rescue
When you spend all day cleaning your firetruck and rescuing stuff you need to refuel and the only way to do that is with a pack of Doritos.
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