Flooding the Neighbourhood

The storm rolling in. Our house can be seen in the background.



Debris at the base of the trees left by the rising flood waters of the nearby creek



Our friendly neighbourhood playground



The much used picnic table at our friendly neighbourhood playground



The bridge from which we feed the ducks, turtles and eels.

Just in case one major storm wasn't enough we've had one each night since the first disastrous one on Sunday. Today is Thursday and we've just waved another one goodbye. Just when the sun began to shine and those whose homes were destroyed thought they might safely be able to filter through what is left we were hit again. Predictions are that we are going to be hit each and every day until Saturday.

Last night Brisbane was bracing for another storm. The news had warned us it was coming but what they hadn't predicted was how much rain would be brought with it. Turns out there was enough to cause major flooding across areas already hit hard. This afternoon we wandered down to our favourite playground which happens to abutt a creek. We came across another mother who was trying desperately to remove the debris in case the creek rose again tonight with the predicted storms. She wanted it moved off the play equipment so that fresh flood waters or rain might wash it clean. Henry made friends with her young daughter while I helped drag the offending debris away.

The rain chased us all off and we walked home with our new friends hoping to make it before the storm really hit. As we waved them goodbye I told Henry how lucky he was to have made a new friend today. This is how he responded:

"Yeah, I make friends. You just say, "do you like dinosaurs? I like dinosaurs and then they say, yeah I like dinosaurs and then you're just friends".

I think we should all take a leaf out of Henry's book because how do you know if you could be friends with someone if you don't start with something simple like "Do you like dinosaurs". Even if they don't you've still got something to talk about.

Storming the Neighbourhood

For those of you no longer living in this city or just not from here read here to see what transpired yesterday.

It was hot, almost hotter than hell through the day. Henry and I had escaped the clutches of the family and taken a trip to the Sunshine Coast on Saturday to soak up some summer sun and surf up some summer surf. We stayed overnight and woke up Sunday to an overcast morning up there. Still it was warm enough to take a quick swim before heading home but nothing like it was here in Brisbane. Here it was absolutely sweltering. The kind of oppressive humidity that makes your undies stick to your legs like a melting lollipop and your tongue just loll about because it too is too hot to move. It was the kind of weather that all Queenslanders know is going to bring a late afternoon storm. Usually we welcome it because we know that the short lived light show in the sky will cool things off dramatically.

Yesterday's storm did that. It cooled things off so much that I was wearing a cardigan at 7PM and tonight is still much the same. What we weren't prepared for was how much destruction that short lived and longed for storm would leave in its path.

I was outside around 3PM yesterday oiling my outdoor dining table when I looked up and saw the dark clouds looming over the city and making their way towards us. By the time I packed up and cleaned the paintbrushes the clouds were directly above us. All the sunlight, which only minutes before was packed with skin cancer causing UV light, had disappeared. It was as black as night and it was only 4.30PM. Right then I knew this storm was not going to be pretty. We battened down the hatches and huddled inside bonding by trying to convince Henry to allow us to remove a splinter from his finger. We weren't successful but it distracted us all while the winds howled outside and the rain hammered the roof. Several times we all jumped when lightening struck so loudly it seemed as though it had hit the roof of our house.

Once the worst of it was over we surveyed the damage. Fortunately there wasn't much aside from some flooding downstairs which happens every time we get a heavy downpour. We were expecting it but nothing of value had been ruined because we've learned not to keep anything of value in the flood path.

Our friend who lives in one of the worst hit areas called us shortly after to give us a report on how he had faired through it all. His roof had partly been torn off, his bedroom and all of his computer equipment had been flooded (he's a computer programmer), a nearby Jacaranda tree had fallen into his pool and the creek beside his house was overflowing. Our small amount of flooding seemed so trifle in comparison. He described the devastation in the streets surrounding him and said that he and his children were huddled inside the house scared that something was going to land right on top of them or that the roof would be blown right off.

This afternoon after work I took a drive out there to see if they needed anything and to survey the damage. I've got to say, I'm thankful we weren't directly in the path of the worst of it. There are streets blocked off with fallen trees and powerlines are down. Maya's school looks like some naughty kids had gone in there and ransacked the place but with big powerful toys to help them along. Trees have simply splintered and some torn right out of the ground roots and all. Businesses were handing out stock to anyone who would take it because it was better to give it away then to waste it. One thing it has done is connected neighbours who would otherwise never give each other the time of day. The community has banded together and they're all out helping each other in whatever way they can.

For the rest of Brisbane, the definitive line the storm did not cross, it's business as usual.

The following comment, left by a Courier Mail reader, pretty much sums it up Queensland style:

I was out on the verandah sinking a few beers when suddenly a storm popped up.

He goes on to say:

I thought our house was the worst hit but as soon as I stepped outside I realised the whole of The Gap is destroyed.

Docking in five minutes

Since Maya has requested a new ipod for her birthday/xmas present I've been checking out all the junk mail catalogues that come through our mail box to see who has the cheapest. I've made a scrapbook of them...not really, they've all just been left to pile up on the dining table. But people, have you seen what the hell can be done with an ipod? Nearly everything in the universe now comes with an ipod dock - DVD players, electric razors, BBQs, electric kettles, toilet cisterns. You name it and I bet you someone has developed some way of including the ipod in it. Perhaps a scrapbook is not such a bad idea. That way I can make a guest appearance on ABC TV's Collector series.

Makes me sick - I'm still listening to an old tranny.

The Life of a Pirate

Henry acquired this lovingly hand made pirate ship from some friends of ours whose children had played with it enough. Unfortunately it's made mostly from cardboard and papier mache so it can't be left out in the rain and it takes up a lot of room. When we're sick of it taking up space we'll forward it on to some other treasure hunters.

Life has been so hectic just lately that I haven't had time to scratch let alone blog anything much. It feels like I've been on an ever revolving merry-go-round that has only paused long enough for me to take a deep breath before it starts again. Even now I'm stealing precious time before heading off to work but it's early morning; the house is quiet because everyone is sleeping and I can think all by myself. That's a rare occasion.

So what's been going on? Well I turned 40 and had a party to celebrate/commiserate. The lead up to the day was rather harrowing because 40 for me seemed to be the point at which I'd start to become old. All the TV ads and the pamphlets in the doctors surgeries kept telling me I had to ramp up my health checks and instead of having certain things done once every two years suddenly they all seemed to be needed on an almost weekly basis. I don't know whether those guidelines were written by GP's wanting to line their coffers and saw old people as a way to do it or if it really is necessary to have your boobs prodded, your eyes peered into, your blood pressure measured, your hormone levels monitored and your toenails removed as often as they claim. It seems to me that spending so much time in a doctor's surgery waiting room would expose you to so many germs you'd probably die from flu before you'd die from the effects of unbalanced hormones.

Anyway I turned 40 and I'm still here. The party was a hoot I have to admit despite my misgivings. I was worried I'd not be able to stay up past 11PM, that there wouldn't be enough food and that I'd be too tired the next day to clean up. That's what getting old does to you - you no longer think you're capable of having a good time. Apparently I even looked ok - not a minute past 40.



The party was a protest party and of course I was protesting about being 40, others just protested - like my friend Liam. As he left the party at 2.30AM he took some of the protest signs from the garden and he and his partner took some photos of themselves protesting with them outside a popular city nightclub. I'm not certain whether or not they were joined by anyone who supported their cause.



Henry has started swimming lessons again now that the weather has warmed up. At first he was hesitant and not really keen to join in use his "big arms" as they call them to fasion a stroke. He was happy enough to be in the water as long as the swim instructor expected nothing of him. By the third lesson he was like a fish following the leader. Now he can't get enough. Every day he asks if he can go to swimming lessons. He prefers to spend his time sitting on the bottom of the pool or "diving" as he calls it. When the instructor aks him to show her his "big arms" his little body doubles over but his arms and legs are moving rapidly. He can't quite get the hang of keeping his body stetched out straight. As far as he's concerned though he's swimming like the strongest shark in the ocean.

We took him to see his first movie on the big screen this past weekend. I'd been thinking about doing it for quite some time to see if he was up to sitting still for that amount of time. Thankfully a Thomas the Tank movie was showing which was only 1hr long and it was cheap so if we had to hot foot it out of their nothing much would have been lost. In the lead up to it he'd found a swim costume that had been a hand me down from his older cousin. This was one of those all in one type swim suits designed to protect from the sun as much as possible - long sleeves, knee length shorts and a nice long zip at the front and very body hugging. It's ugly and it fit him perfectly and as soon as he had it on he was transformed as Sportacus - a superhero dedicated to saving children everywhere from the evils of laziness and obesity. Once he had that on he wasn't taking it off. I pleaded with him and bribed him but he would not hear of it so off he went to the movies with his swim costume on. He thought he looked like a superhero and that the suit gave him special powers so I let him go on believing that for the whole day.

In the shower

Henry: How come girls have fur on their doodies?

Me: Boys do too when they grow up

Henry: ...yeah and turn into girls.

Eye Pod

While very gently brushing something away from my eye...

Henry: Mum, something's in your eye pod.

Forest Shirt

Henry: Mum, that shirt's really nice, just like a forest

Smarter Data

If you were Australian the title of this post would rhyme which is why I used it. Doesn't it sound great? It's ok to lie in this instance.

Anyway the reason for the title is the reason for this post. My friend is trying to start her own business. She's decided that after a life changing episode she wants to tone thngs down a little as far as stress levels are concerned and this is the result.

Now she needs this website to come up readily in a google search and I believe the only real way to do that is for this site to be accessed a lot. So get clicking people. Click away and then click some more.

Here's where you do it.

http://www.qrds.com.au/

Cure

Henry: Mum, what's that thing on your face?

Me: It's a pimple

Henry: It looks like it hurts

Me: Not really

Henry: I know, maybe if I touch it it will make it feel better

Me: I don't think so

Henry: I'll get a bandaid, that'll work

Me: No, I'd rather not walk around with a bandaid on my face

Henry: But bandaids look nice

Perfect Weather

I'm going to continue going on about the weather until it's all rainy and overcast again. I need to say it once more - it's perfect and the best thing about it is that Henry has not watched TV for two whole days. He's been happy and excited and has played outdoors. He filled his wading pool and entertained himself with that and the colander for almost two hours today while I passionately ironed our work clothes for the week. He asked his father to take him to the park to throw the frisbee, he painted and drove his cars up and down the pavement and only a few times did he ask me for a "treatie".

I want it to stay just like this until it gets cold again because I hate the fierce heat. Right now it's warm enough to swin and cool enough to be comfortable. I'm loving it and going to enjoy it while it lasts.

Monkey

Sharon mentioned how beatiful the weather was down there in her part of the country. It turns out that it's pretty perfect here too. Despite my aching tiredness (dinner with friends caused it), I am loving this calm, temperature-perfect amount of sunshine. So is Henry and I can't tell you when he was last so peaceful and contented. The two of us walked to the supermarket this morning to stock up on some supplies. I was weighed down like a pack horse on the trek home but still I wasn't bothered. We came home and made some mint green and pink play dough then sat down on the deck in the shade of the trees and set up a bakery full of green sausage rolls and a zoo full of pink animals.

Right now Henry is making himself sick with laughter at his own fart jokes. The sunshine must have affected his brain because as far as I'm concerned dinosaur fart jokes are much funnier than monkey fart jokes. He doesn't think so though.

So Proud

Look at me name dropping...I know this performer and I am so proud that she will be coming to help me celebrate my comin of age.

This would completely horrify my mother

But Henry thinks it's pretty funny. Farts are funny and I dare anyone to tell me otherwise.

Saving Lives

It seems that there's a lot of people out there trying to find someone to save their lives. After this post, which I titled Someone Come and Save My Life, my sitemeter has gone crazy and tells me that this post has been awfully popular by people google searching for a way to save their lives.

Those words are obviously in that song but I'm wondering if people are just generally looking for someone to save them from something - financial debt, erratic or suicidal thoughts, the need to go grocery shopping, a violent husband/wife, severe physical pain, the taste of bad coffee...who would know but there's a lot of people out there searching for something that may save them.

Is there a need to inform the newspapers about this?

Can anyone answer me this?

Why in heavens name would a dog need alphabet treats?

While shopping at the supermarket the other day I spotted just that - Alphabet Dog Treats. Do you think they're used to help the dog learn the alphabet in bark? If they recognise all of the letters of the alphabet do they then get an extra meaty treat like a bone?

Or maybe someone really clever came up with a way to teach their human children the alphabet by feeding letters to the dog -"Ok give the doggy a Z now". If the kid gets all the letters right they get to tease the dog by eating a T-bone steak in front ot it. Seems pretty sane to me.

From the other side of Australia

Maya: Mum, I think I'm getting that sinus thing again?

Me: Ok, have you used your nasal spray?

Maya: No

Me: Maybe you should get your dad to take you to the doctor.

Maya: Yeah maybe. Also I'm getting pains in my chest.

Me: I'm sorry honey. It's probably nothing serious. Maybe you should get your dad to take you to the doctor.

Maya: Ok, but I think I'm getting that sinus thing again. I feel the same as I did last time I got it.

Me: Ok honey, there's not a lot I can do from here, 10 000 miles away. Maybe you should get your dad to take you to the doctor and go and get a nasal spray to clean out your sinuses.

Sick

Last night Henry vomitted for the first time in two years. He then vomitted every half hour on the dot from 10PM last night until 7AM this morning. But because he hadn't been sick in so long he was a little scared and didn't know what had happened. When he woke to find himself covered in it he started to whimper and said:

"Mum, I think something's hurt my feelings everywhere"

Yes she did

Me: Mum... L and S and I were wondering if you ever acted like us when you were our age?

Mum: What do you mean?

Me: Well did you ever talk about playing Ding Dong the Witch is Dead at anyone's funeral?

Mum: No. I didn't have any sisters to talk about that with.

Me: Oh of course. L reckons you said the "F" word in 1988 when the xmas tree fell on her.

Mum: (with a look of disgust) Well, I can tell you that would have been the one and only time.

Me: That's what I thought.

Quality

Me (hunched over computer) to Sister #1 (hunched over another computer): It's so nice to spend some quality time with you

Sister #1: Yeah I was just thinking that. Oh shit! Dammit you made me miss that clue. I nearly had that puzzle solved.

Devotion

This poor puppy was one of twelve born to my nephew's Border Collie. Two died and this one, well she's "retarded" according to my niece. Apparently her mother doesn't want her and so she tried to drown herself in the dam. Fortunately she was rescued just in time and will now spend her life in foster care.




Henry is blindly devoted to his cousin Sam. Anything Sam does Henry will try to do exactly the same way. The two of them were yesterday racing each other at the Toowoomba Hockey Fields where we had gone to watch my niece play.



Note that look of pure admiration coming from Henry. In his eyes, Sam could never do a thing wrong.




And this is my sister and her husband supporting two children that don't belong to them. Well at least not for now.

Ladies and Mothers

While making seafood chowder.

Sister #3: Do you think about Mum when she was our age and wonder if she acted like this?

Me: Yeah but she probably didn't. She was too much of a lady.

Sister #1: Of course she didn't act like us, don't be so stupid.

Sister #3: I think she did, I even think she said "fuck" once but she and her friends probably never joked about their husbands.

Ding Dong

Sister #3 to Sister #1: You're going the wrong way. And why are you walking so fast? Are you embarrassed by us?

Sister #1: I just forgot where we parked the car and I'm just hoping that if we get hit by a car in the car park, I'll die first.

Sister #3: Yeah, I'd probably come to your funeral.

Sister #1: Well, that's why I want to die first, so I won't have to come to your funeral.

Me: But we'll be playing Ding Dong the Witch is dead as her theme song. That'd be worth seeing wouldn't it?

Sister #1: You're probably right, here (pushing Sister #3 forwards) you go in front of me.

Hero Worship

It's kind of interesting how most kids stories feature an antagonist who is always in in battle with the protagonist. Does this mean we are setting our kids up to believe that they will have to go into battle almost every day of their lives? Even Lazy Town, a show designed to teach children the importance of healthy eating and exercise has an evil villain who is always trying to stop Sporticus from his plan to save children everywhere.

Do our children realise that the villain is only imaginary and put there to emphasise the goodness of the hero or are they going to believe they need to be on their guard all the time because everywhere they go they will have to fight evil villains? Maybe these shows are just teaching them how not to give in to temptation.

Maybe someone should come up with one that shows a woman as the hero who is constantly having to win battles against husbands, unfair bosses and evil teenagers.

Ugly Lollipop

Henry: Mum, it looks like I'm all ugly (opens mouth as wide as possible while squiting and looking sideways)

Me: Why?

Henry: Because I haven't had a lollipop.

Me: (silence)

Henry: Muuuuummmm, I haaaavent' haaaad one. You know!

Articulate Your Bus

I took Henry to the museum today to see what was hailed as the spectacular dinosaur adventure for kids. Really it was just a couple of tables full of hundres of photocopied colour-in pictures of dinosaurs and a small sandpit with some bits of concrete disguised as dinosaur fossils. Henry and Gabe, his friend we met up with, thought the scissors provided for cutting were pretty cool for all of about two minutes. If we had only gone to see that I would have been bitterly disappointed because there was a lot of jostling of other parents and small children just to get to the scissors and colouring pictures.

We decided to hotfoot it to the dinosaur garden to eat lunch instead. After that we said goodbye to our companions and Henry and I headed back in to the museum to really check it out. I really didn't think Henry would be all that interested because he's usually not unless there are pigeons to chase and rocks to climb on. He was so fascinated he didn't want to leave. We were there for over three hours. He wanted to touch everything that could be touched and look at everything that could be looked at and then pretend he was Diego at the stuffed animal exhibit. My back started to hurt and the only way to get him to leave was to bribe him with a bus ride home and a milkshake on the way.

Before getting on the bus we relaxed for a bit at a cafe and drank our milkshakes. While there he told me his favourite part of the day was seeing the stuffed animals but he would probably "really like" the bus ride too. He did really like the bus ride. So much so that he pressed the buzzer several times which elicited some very snide expressions from the driver. Fortunately Henry was able to put a smile back on the driver's face when we exited by informing the bus driver that he wasn't driving an articulated bus!

Grappino

If you've got nothing else to do some time go and eat great food, enjoy service like you haven't experienced in a long time and soak in the ambience here.

Grappino in Paddington. Totally worth it even if just for the free perfume in the ladies rooms.

Double Wednesday

Henry: Mum, ask me who I played with today.

Me: Who did you play with today?

Henry: Not Sira

Me: Was Sira not there today?

Henry: No, he only comes on Thursday and Wednesday and Friday and Wednesday at 24 50 100 o'clock.

Me: So who did you play with then?

Henry: Jacob, but he's not my friend and he has white hair.

After talking about my youth

Henry: When I was sister's age I lost my age

Me: Well you would have if you had ever been her age yet

Henry: I was her age yesterday

Because I was later than usual to pick him up

Henry: Mum, where have you been, I've been worried about you!

Me: I know, I'm so sorry I'm late

Henry: Ok, but don't ever do that again.

While Watching Charlotte's Web

Henry: Mum, that cow farted (hysterical laughter)! I can fart like that.

Me: I bet you can.

Henry: Yeah, watch

(This was followed by a look of concentration with his butt pointing northwards. Unfortunately no fart came)

Henry: Oh, there's none coming. Play that bit again...

Bug Me

Yesterday Henry and I gardened for a few hours. He was very helpful and pulled the weeds that were growing between the pavers. He was happily doing this and chatting away the whole time about bugs and trees when suddenly I heard an almightly shriek come from him...not just once but twice. I immediately threw down the clippers I had in my hand and ran to him. By the time I got to him he had rivers of tears streaming down his cheeks and a look of fright like I'd never seen before. He was holding his pinky finger out to me and in between heaving sobs tried to tell me what happened. I checked his outstretched finger for signs of snake or spider bite but could find nothing. Maya and her friend stuck their heads out of the window to see what the commotion was about and apparently they could tell straight away that nothing much had happened so laughed heartily at Henry's distress further fuelling the sobbing. I held him tight until he had calmed down enough to tell me what was wrong. It turns out a bug had landed on his little fnger.

He looked up at me with red rimmed eyes and said "Mum, a bug just came and landed on my finger and it had a really big body and wings and two legs. I thought it was going to eat me". I of course assured him that it was probably unlikely to happen and when he felt satisfied he turned and went straight back to his weeding singing merrily about helping with the garden.

The Shut Up Bears

When we read books to Henry it's got to be read in just the right way and with just the right inflections. If you read something one way the first time that book will have to be read that same way each and every time it's read to him from then on. He gets irate if someone new reads the same book and can't get what he's telling them about how it should be read. We have a book called the Jolly Christmas Postman. He delivers Christmas messages of some sort or another to all the characters of popular nursery rhymes. The Three Bears get a card and on that card is a crude drawing of their mother serving them their pudding. Each bear says the usual "Who's been eating my pudding" and their mother replies with something that she doesn't say at all in the original nursery rhyme. The following is Henry's rendition of how that little cartoon goes.

Bear 1: Who's been eating my pudding

Bear 2: Who's been eating my pudding

Bear 3: Who's been eating my pudding

Mama Bear: Shut up you soft bears, I haven't deserved it yet.

What Mama bear actually says is "shut up you soft bears, I haven't served it yet" but Henry won't hear a bar of that. According to him she definitely says "deserved it yet". If I try to correct him he gets angry. I'd give in if I had ever actually read him the original Goldilocks and the Three Bears but as far as I know he's never heard it in all his 4 years. I'm sure he would be most upset to learn that Mama Bear says nothing even near as rude as shut up.

Shame, she should have her mouth washed out with soap for being such a bad Mama and teaching her children such bad language.

The Snapper

I don't know what it is about Irish books that I love so much but I sometimes wonder if I'm a bit like Jeremy Irons who felt so strong about one particular part of Ireland that he went in search of why. Turns out his ancestors originated only about 5 miles from where he chose to live for the rest of his days.

Perhaps it's because they are able to maintain a sense of humour in the face of adversity. I'm currently reading Roddy Doyle's The Snapper. While the plot is fairly serious - a young girl (Sharon) gets raped by her friend's father and falls pregnant - the way she, her family and friends deal with it is so funny I find myself laughing out loud at almost every sentence. The dialogue is pure Irish and Sharon's father, though seemingly a simple character, is protective of his family and his daughter's name. He doesn't know the details of his daughter's pregnancy as she won't reveal them. She was so drunk when it happened that she felt she must have been to blame. I can't believe a man is able to so intimately describe pregnancy and the thoughts that go through a young woman's mind.

I am only half way through this book but already I don't want it to end. I want to meet the Irish family Roddy Doyle has created. Lucky for me it's part two of a trilogy so all I need to do now is track down the other two books. I never go in search of books usually because I just borrow them from family and friends as I walk past their bookshelves. Recently my sister cleaned out her library and threw a few hundred my way so I've got a few to get through but after that Roddy's other books are the firt on my list of must haves.

Oh and The Snapper has been made into a movie so I at least get to hear that dialogue with an Irish accent.

Someone Come and Save My Life

This is my very talented daughter playing guitar to a City and Colour song but there's a little trick to this video. See if you can pick it up...pay attention towards the end.

It will feel so good

So I now have an appointment with a neurosurgeon next week. I've done a lot of reading and I don't hold out much hope that any kind of surgery is actually guaranteed to give me any relief or make much difference but it does feel nice to know that there's a reason behind the pain and the constant need to use a toilet that has driven me nuts for years.

I am very much looking forward to taking the results to the urologist however. I'm hoping it might humble him a little but I'm suspecting it won't. It makes me wonder how many other patients he gets paid to see but does nothing for.

The most important indicator was not so much the need to pee constantly but the fact that my bladder would never empty which of course caused the need to pee again shortly after. That's the tell tale sign and one the urologist would not believe was causing my frustration. He even had me admitted to hospital over night so he could have the nurses monitor me when I urinated and then measure how much was left in my bladder. The amounts were significant but he believed they were unimportant and that I wasn't trying hard enough.

Physio and bladder retraining for overactive bladder requires the patient to do things such as "double void" - essentially sit down, pee, get up and then sit down and pee again; holding on by sitting down and waiting till the need to pee urgently passes; measuring how much you pee when you do; and exercising using all kinds of strange looking devices. It's not fun and not in anyway attractive. I did these things for years but none of them made a scrap of difference and my problems became worse despite the physio and the meds but the uro believed I couldn't possibly be telling him the truth about it.

I once, in frustration, said to him, "you're a man and I assume you have a normal bladder function, I know that I am just one of many patients but I am trying to tell you how it is for me so please listen". He gave me some smirk and told me again that there is no way what I'm telling him could be true.

So I will have my last appointment with him in a couple of weeks and I will be so pleased to politely show him the results and then politely tell him I won't be returning to see him.

A move in the right direction

I decided to post this here because I thoght it might be useful to share my story with others who have for years been suffering the same thing as me but had no idea why. I'll start from the beginning because that's where it always starts.

Since I was a kid I've had troubles with my bladder function. I "always" had to go and when I did, I had to go immediately or there would be trouble. I guess it drove the rest of my family nuts. Long car drives made me nervous because I knew I'd have to stop frequently and that was always going to make the driver (usually my father) mad. I wet the bed until I was about 9 - that drive my mother mad. I think I heard the words "can't you just hold on" more times than I heard anything else.

I recall my mother taking me to the GP back when I was young. His solution back then was to restrict fluids after a certain time of day. That was the only answer they had and of course it didn't work.

As I entered adult hood it started to really drive me nuts. Going to the pub for a few drinks with friends was often embarrassing because I'd have to rush off to pee every few minutes. They noticed and would say "but didn't you just go?". Sometimes I'd make up excuses and say that I wanted to go wash my hands or something because I didn't want them to know I had to pee - again!

Many doctors just told me to do more pelvic floor exercises. That would be the answer.

After giving birth to Maya at about age 24 I decided that I had had enough. It was starting to affect my life in too many ways. At that time we lived 45 minutes from town and I couldn't make the trip without having to stop several times to pee. I moved to the city and it was then I decided to seek real help. I saw a lovely GP - an elderly man who was gentle and kind and the first one to really listen to what I had to say. He told me what I was experiencing was not normal, especially since it had been going on since childhood. He prescribed a mild anti-depressant type drug designed to stop the bladder muscle from over reacting all the time. It didn't work. He then referred me to a urologist who ordered a battery of uncomfortable urodymanic tests. They didn't really find any dysfunction but said it was overactive bladder anyway. I think it made them feel better. I was referred to a physiotherapist for treatment and a bladder retraining program. It didn't help.

A few more years went by and it progressively got worse so I on advice from a friend nurse who worked at a women's health network I sought a referral to another urologist who is a supposed "guru" in urogynaecology. She told me to beware though because a lot of women found him frightfully attractive. I found him frightfully arrogant, even at my first appointment. He sat across from me, yawned, placed his hands behind his head and said "so why do you go to the toilet so often?". I told him that I hoped he could tell me that as he was the specialist after all. He of course told me I was over-exaggerating my problems and referred me to another physiotherapist.


I tried it but it didn't help. I stopped going. I then gave birth to Henry, his birth was long and tiring. My bladder function didnt' really change but I was left with other issues so again asked my GP for a referral to a specialist for those. She referred me to the same urogaenacologist. I didn't hold out much hope but as he was supposedly the "guru" I decided to go along with it. His registrar, a young female, told me I should have surgery as soon as possible because it must be horrible for my husband to put up with. Of course I told her my husband and his sex life were the least of my concerns. It was my body we were talking about and I would have to think long and hard before having any surgery which had a lot of complications but was essentially cosmetic. I've never had the surgery but eventually she left and I continued to keep my appointments with the "guru" about my bladder issues. He wanted me to try more physio, more drugs designed to control overactive bladder but which had horrid side effects.

So after years of seeing him I was no closer to a solution. At my last visit, just over a month ago, he told me that my problems were basically my imagination and that normally someone with my issues would have a nuerological disorder and it was pretty obvious to him that I didn't have one of those. He asked me to trial another drug and stop all caffeine and alcohol for a month because that was his final miracle cure.

As the drugs he wanted me to try were $50 a month I decided to check them out thoroughly before trying them. After reading all about their side effects I decided against it.

Now it so happens that in my new job I work with a paediatrician. I happened to be bitching about the urogaenacologist I've been seeing to another work colleague and she overheard me. She asked me to tell her about my problems. When I had finished she asked me if I'd ever had a spinal MRI because children with my symptoms would normally have a defect. Of course I had not. She wrote me a referral, just to rule out any neurological defects.

I had that MRI last week and the results explain my lifetime of bladder function issues. It also explains the sciatic pain and tingling through my legs and feet.

I have a tethered spinal cord, a Tarlov cyst and a spinal lipoma. All of these things individually cause, among other things, bladder and bowel dysfunction. Together they cause many issues. This would also explain the pain in my lower back/tail bone area, the sciatic pain I've suffered with for years and the tingling/numbness I often feel in my legs and feet. I always believed these other symptoms to be merely an effect of ageing and childbirth and bending and just plain living.

Mor to come...but until then, don't ignore your child's toilet issues if you feel they'r serious.

Stolen but found

Last night Maya headed into the city with some friends to watch the spectacle of Riverfire. She had pretty much resigned herself to the fact that she would not be going after some of her friends pulled out half way through the day. They changed their minds at the 11th hour though and as a result were so rushed to make it to the city they missed all the fireworks anyway.

She arrived home a few hours later and reported that their night had been a complete waste of time and to top if all off someone had stolen her favourite jacket. She and her friends had been waiting for the bus to return them home when a male person around the same age as her walked by her and grabbed her jacket off the seat where she had placed it. He then ran off with all his mates cheering him on. She and her friends hotfooted it after them but were unable to keep up the chase because of traffic.

This morning she and her friends have scoured Myspace and found him. They knew his name because his friends had called out to him as he ran away and that was about all they had to go by. This city is large but by narrowing down which school he was likely to go to and his likely age, along with his name they were able to track him. Now they sit and wait for him to add them to his profile and then they'll all launch an attack of the internet kind in which they'll kindly ask him to return her jacket... and maybe call him a trussed up private school boy! I would be all for that.

Why Gheckos live in houses

Henry: Mum, Gheckos live in houses because they think it's a really great place to live. See, when they make that noise that means it's a really great place to live.

My sister Alicia

Henry: Mum, you have to say, "this is my sister Alicia"

Me: This is my sister Alicia

Henry: Not like that, like this. "This is my sister Alicia"

Me: This is my sister Alicia

Henry: Ok, how about you wear the video watch

Me: Ok, but what will I see on it?

Henry: My sister Alicia

Me: Oh great, so is she an animal rescuer too?

Henry: No because she doesn't have rescue ropes

Me: Right.

Henry: Now you've got it.

Four

Today Henry didn't turn 4. He actually doesn't turn 4 until tomorrow but he doesn't know that and until he's old enough to realise the difference we will continue to celebrate everything on the day it doesn't occur because we're like that. He also isn't yet old enough to realise he hasn't had a proper birthday party because he thinks if there's a cake and presents to open he's had a party. Kids are so simple like that. At least until their competitive spirit clicks in and they feel the need to have a party bigger and better than anyone else ever did.

so he woke to a few lego type presents and a book or two from us, nothing terribly exciting as far as he was concerned...then he turned into his usual maniac self because he had eaten two chocolate crackles for breakfast (it's his birthday!). I knew my mother and stepfather had Buzz Lightyear and they were late and I swear I was going to have to take some medication to cope with Henry if they didn't just get here soon.

Henry's obsession with Buzz Lightyear means he attempts to copy all of Buzz's moves. He jumps from the bed to the floor yelling "To infinity and beyond". Now he can do it with Buzz in his hands who, hopefully will save him from the evil Zurg.

Happy 4th Birthday Henry.

I'm sitting on top of the world

I had no intention of taking anyone, especially myself, to the Ekka this year. I loved my local small town show when I was a kid but the Ekka's always been a little too big and busy for me. Plus one needs to have saved up the equivalent of a years pay to afford it. My stepfather called yesterday and asked if Henry would like to go to the Ekka and that he would be happy to take him. At first Henry, who had no idea what the Ekka even was, said no, he wasn't interested. I was kind of happy about his ambivalence but equally disappointed because I had visions of having hours alone. I didn't yet want him to know what the Ekka was and I also wasn't really that keen on him picking up one of the trillions of germs and illnesses that seem to lurk at such places. There was also the fact that Henry likes to run off - a lot, and I had fears that he may not make it back home.

I showed Henry the Ekka website and he became a little excited by the colours. I decided that if he were going I would have to go along too to make sure he came home. Although my stepfather spends a lot of time with Henry it's always at his house and rarely in public where climbable banisters, things with fire alarm butons and places to hide abound. So I did it, I went and the minute we stepped foot off the train into the Ekka groudns I wished I hadn't. There were people everywhere! I calmed down a little when I saw the bulls headed into the ring for the bull judging and the flashing signs advertising dagwood dogs.

I caved and let Henry have some rides and we took him to the "top of the world" in the - get this - air conditioned Ferris Wheel! I'm glad they banned that stupid carousel and let the air conditioned Ferris Wheel stay. It's about time the Ekka got modern. I was even more pleased when I saw the sign on the ceiling of our air-conditioned cab that said "smile, you're on camera". I guess they installed those to catch anyone trying to sneak in a pash while they're up there on top of the world. Thank God for Ferris Wheel police. Lord knows we need them!

It's just what you do

When the kids and life in general are wearing you out you run away to the bush and you stay there with a girlfriend for an entire weekend and return home hopefully feeling a little more relaxed.

At least that's what Carla and I did last weekend. At first I was a little disappointed because our cabin for the weekend was a little unluxurious (I know this is not a real word so don't go sending me comments to point this out). There was only two wine glasses, one a martini glass and the other a champagne flute which both looked as though they'd been stolen from the nearest pub. The cooking facilities weren't so crash hot either and it took me the entire weekend to get the fire alight in the wood heater. The good far outweighed the bad though as the shower was steaming hot, the beds were comfortable and the peace and quiet of the mountain made up for anything that was lacking. We had no choice anyway as the whole mountain was booked out.

I'm hoping I can get to do it again sometime very soon.

See you round like a rissole

As we lay in bed together the other evening, Henry, Maya and I were having a grand time coming up with "see ya later" sayings. Some of them old and tested, some of them just made up by us. Of course "see ya round like a rissole" was one of them. Henry was laughing so hard I thought he might fall off the bed.

The following morning as I was leaving for work I said to him "see you round like a rissole". He turned and scowled at me and said "Mum, you don't say that, you only say it in bed". So there you have it. Never try to use it at any other time.

Buzz Lightyear to the rescue

Henry has become a little bit obsessed with Buzz Lightyear since he saw him acting like the big hero he thinks he is in Toy Story. Because his GP has one in her waiting room he has also become obsessed with making up excuses to see Dr Helen. Just the other day he came out of his room clutching his ear saying "Mum, my ear really hurts, see, feel it. I'm going to have to go to Dr Helen". Of course I was concerned and asked him all the right questions to which he seemed to know all the right answers. Then he says "I'll have to go to Dr Helen and get Buzz Lightyear, that's why my ear is really sore". I asked him if he was just pretending to have a sore ear. As though expecting that a positive answer was in his best interest he excitedly replied "yes, of course I'm pretending, how did you guess, now we'll have to go to Dr Helen's and get Buzz Lightyear".

Yesterday I happened to have an appointment with my GP, who is also called Helen, and Henry was going to have to tag along. I warned him about where we were headed and of course suddenly his ear became very sore. He believed we were going to his Dr Helen and would not hear otherwise. No matter how many times I tried to tell him he would not accept my answer so he did what all three year olds do when they're not getting their own way and threw himself on the floor. I somehow managed to bribe him into the car but all the way there he was agitated because were were going in the wrong direction and further away from Buzz Lightyear. His screams from the back seat sounded like this "But Mum, my ear is really sore, don't you understand that? I need Buzz Lightyear!"

On days like that when he is determined that he will be right I find my patience is severely tested and I would quite happily hold my head in a bucket of sand until it passes.

Terrible Christmas Tree

Henry: Mum, why are you putting another shirt on me?

Me: Because it's a bit cold and I thought it might help keep you warm

Henry: (with arms held out) But I look like a terrible Christmas Tree. I'm all blue and brown.

Fishing!

We've just spent three days at the beach with our First Best Friends. We decided to take Henry fishing. Henry tried hard but really he was a major pain and I'm sure it was him who scared all the fish away. We didn't catch a thing all day. Henry eventually got bored and decided to get wet despite the cold winds and the fact that I only had three changes of clothes with me. A young boy by the name of Jacob happened by with his great aunt and had a go too but even he didn't catch anything. Of course the only thing to do was retreat to the comfort of home and open a bottle of warming red wine.

Work Experience is real.

Back when I was in school, which is a long time ago, work experience meant that you chose an industry you thought you might like to work in and you went there for a week to do such important jobs as filing, making coffee and sweeping floors. In my home town there weren't many places to choose from so it made no difference where you went. You'd still be filing, sweeping floors and making coffee. This week Maya has been doing work experience at Rave Magazine - a widely read music review publication.

I fully expected to hear on her first day that she had been given the important title of "General Office Assistant", meaning she would be filing, sweeping floors and making coffee. I wasn't prepared for the excitement I was greeted with when I picked her up on her first day. She had done anything but the usual jobs earmarked for work experience kids. She had transcribed interviews, written band interview questions (which will be featured in the next issue), proofread interviews and copy, written a band review (which will be featured in the next issue)and filed (yes a little) all the free CDs they receive and she was able to choose any she wanted to keep.

She's been on cloud 9 and the whole experience has made her feel very proud of herself. None of her friends chose to do work experience and she's now feeling as though she's experienced something they won't - an opportunity to work on a widely read music publication and be really involved.

The Rave Magazine shopfront isn't much - it's an old house set in amongst office buildings in an industrial area which is located in a thriving multi-cultural suburb. There's only a few employees but all of them dedicated to what they do. The first day I collected her I made a joke about having her sweep floors and make coffee. They all looked at me as though I was mad and they didn't get the joke. They told me they prefer properly brewed coffee from the coffee shop around the corner and that someone comes in to sweep floors. They seemed to genuinely believe that if you have requested work experience in a place such as that you should have the opportunity to see how it really works. Maya is now convinced more than ever that she wants to be a music journalist and has even asked if she can stay in touch with them to occasionally write freelance reviews for them. She does a great job and is so much more sophisticated than I was at her age. She makes me very proud.

Welcome to the New Financial Year

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to try to continue to work in paid employment and still bring home enough money to feed your family. Along the way you will be given set challenges, the first of which will be to absorb the 17.5% increase in your childcare fees. Next you will be required to search out the cheapest fuel in your nearby suburbs or risk selling your car (beware - the increase in fuel costs will be used to justify an increase in all other expenses). If you are still standing there will be the increased cost of groceries, electricity, and car registration to contend with. And if that's not enough to keep you in the game there's always the threat of another interest rate hike or the rise in private health insurance to keep you second guessing yourselves. All of this without an increase in your take home pay. Never mind...life was meant to be challenging right?

Sew Me Up

My friend Jodie sent this to me and I felt the needed to share it with the world.

The Big Issue

I love to buy The Big Issue magazine, and not just because I like to think it makes me a good person, although I am all for helping those who are willing to help themselves and also those that can't. I buy it because it's interesting.

Henry and I bought one tonight from a big, burly, two-toothed man selling it outside our local supermarket. Although this man smelled of BO brewed over 100 days and looked slightly like an unkempt Incredible Hulk he was amazingly soft and gentle by nature. While we chatted Henry stared up at him as though certain this man might sit on him and crush him to death. After we paid and prepared to leave The Hulk offered Henry a lollipop from a canister he kept in his milk crate along with all his worldly possessions. Henry took it with a little trepidation, as though he couldn't believe such a giant would willingly hand over such a morsel of sweetness. He smiled and said "thank you" with a surprised lilt to his voice.

I read that magazine over dinner tonight. It included an article about food and our modern means of ensuring we have enough, read our wasteful ways, another about the lack of role models in the arts and how the behaviours of celebrities is excused because of who they are but most fascinating of all was an article written by Helen Razer, Radio Presenter, author and comedienne. She wrote about the incorrect use of our english language and those who are too lazy to use it correctly despite their long list of degrees, diplomas and PhDs. She also wrote about our overuse of the word "lifestyle". This is when I really admired her because I've been known to bring up that very subject myself many a time. Unfortunately some who have been subjected to my diatribe have glazed over two minutes in.

It's a word that's used as often as "ipod" but what the hell does it mean? It's used in property advertising, and in reference to holidays, diets, clothing, sexuality and even hair products. We've become so sucked in by the word and believe that we can justify anything as long as we use the word "lifestyle". An over priced $1000000 property can be worth it as long as it suits our "lifestyle". I guess that's true if your lifestyle dictates that you work 24/7 in order to pay for it. I'm about to spend some time re-evaluating my "lifestyle" and am wondering if I am prepared to take on millions of dollars worth of debt to live in a bigger house than anyone I know.

Of course we all know I never will because my "lifestyle" means I can't afford a million dollar house or even a one hundred thousand dollar one but still I can dream. If I had one big enough to fit my own family and several disadvantaged children it would be worth it.

Facebook Positive

I thought I had better balance out my previous post about Facebook with a positive story in relation to it. I know I said that there are certain people in the world I would be happy not to have contact with again but I was contacted via Facebook by the sister of a very good friend of mine who I have not had contact with for years. Last time I saw this friend, approximately 12 years ago, she and her husband were desperate for a baby. They had tried IVF a few time and anything else one might try to get a baby. Turns out they've recently had twins after 15 years of trying. Now that is news I like to hear. Thank you Facebook for getting that to me.

Facebook Farce

I'm on Facebook but I'm still not 100% convinced that it's a good thing. People have been able to track me down despite my use of a pseudonym of sorts. I guess they've seen the people I've added as friends and put two and two together. Why should I be so worried? I have a blog that is available for all the world to see right? Well, no one would know about my blog unless I told them about it. My surname is not on it anywhere and no one would really go looking to see if I had one but on Facebook people deliberatley seek you out. People I may have wanted to forget about (even though that has not yet happened) and I have been surprised by the people I had forgotten about who have made contact with me.

The thing about Facebook, aside from the fact that my very good school friend adds all kinds of nasty messages (which I love by the way) is that it is sooo time consuming and difficult. To do anything you are required to add three million applications and send it to every one of your friends before you even get to say "hello" to them. I don't care if they send me a diamond ring or feed my pet or add fish to my aquarium. For these reasons alone I rarely look at it. When I do however I'm surprised at how much activity has been unleashed since I last logged in. Do these people sit on Facebook all day everyday? Are they there just waiting for someone to throw a mudpie at them? Do they hang out everyday to see who sent them a bottle of vodka at happy hour? Are they so desperate for companionship that they see nothing wrong with throwing gross images of bums with exposed haemorroids at each other? Whatever happened to doing that in real life with a close circle of friends that you actually spent time with face to face?

I can see the advantages of Facebook. For example my brother was able to arrange his twenty year school reunion through it. He tracked down all manner of people who all met in our home town over the long weekend to drink as much booze as they could guzzle at the World's Greatest Pub Crawl. Having gone to my 20 year school reunion just a couple of years ago I can see why it was worth it. Mine was a hoot, even though I hung out that night with the same people I hung out with 20 years ago and promptly ignored the rest, just like I did in school. I would like to think I had grown somewhat since that time but apparently I haven't. Let's face it, they were boring then and were still boring at the school reuinion. Some people just don't change. Maybe that's my fear with Facebook. The boring people will contact me and they will still be boring and that, combined with the hard work that is Facebook, will finally see me deleting my profile and searching for something easier.

Best $99 I ever spent

I had to get out of town for the weekend. After all it was a long one and I had originally planned to head to my home town to join in the World's Greatest Pub Crawl...only to help boost the numbers of course and keep them number one. That was proving to be too difficult to organise so I headed up the coast with the kids instead to see some friends who have recently moved there. Since they now live only one block from the beach, have a fully stocked liquor cabinet and access to the best prawns I've ever tasted, they will from now on be known as My Best Friends and I will be spending so much more quality time with them than ever before. They deserve it.

The only downside to the weekend was the weather. It didn't stop raining. It wasn't enough though to stop us from enjoying ourselves immensely. On the way up there I decided to stop off and buy a portable DVD player just to make the trip a little quieter by keeping Henry entertained. That turned out to be the best money I have ever spent in my entire life. It came in handy too while I was busy taste testing several new wines and eating the best prawns I have ever eaten. The free Dora the Explorer DVD that came with it is now all worn out.

We did get to the beach late Friday afternoon briefly and then my friend and I headed to the surfclub to taste test some local beers while Maya and his wife (my other best friend) took Henry home for a hot bath. Since he won $360 on the pokies he decided to add to his liquor collection on the way home and we continued to live it up as only the luckiest of us can. All in all it was a lovely, relaxing weekend full of sea air, great company and new wines.

Henry's Washing

Henry likes to help me hang out the washing. He also thinks that unless he uses 1000 pegs it will blow away in the wind.

This is my life

I often wonder what my life would look like if it was presented to the world as a black and white sketch. i.e one without depth. How would it look? Would it be presented as me, with my children and husband? The Pacific Ocean behind us? Or the natural Australian bush? Or some chaotic abstract?

I often think about how my life is presented to others. If I was to write one paragraph would it appear interesting? Formulaic? Bloody minded? Boring?

Let me see if I can pique your interest with one paragraph.

Born in a small semi-coastal Queensland town to parents who struggled to keep both their marriage and respective businesses. One of five children, all of whom love and respect each other despite their differences. Never finished high school but later managed to complete one year of university studies and win an academic award for excellence. Spent years moving from one job in one location to another because the lure of life was too magnetic to ignore. Gave birth to a child out of wedlock, raised her predominantly alone. Later married and had another child. Moved into the health research field (which she now loves) as a result of the doldrum work undertaken when employment was a necesary evil. Nearing 40 and still unsure of how to celebrate impending middle age. Proud of the fact that despite all the illegal things she may have done in life she was only caught (unintentionally) shoplifting at age 37. (Everyone needs to be caught for something)

So, I ask you, how do I paint that? Should the Pacific Ocean, peaceful and crazy at the same time, with a hint of mischief, be my backdrop or should I opt for the Australian bush - serene but colourful? Or... should I get some boring studio shot - one in which a neutral background of clouds which represent nothing be my thing?

Happy Mother's Day

To all the wonderful, hardworking, beautiful mothers I know - Happy Mother's Day. I hope yours has been as wonderful as mine. I've enjoyed breakfast with my own beautiful mother, my sisters, who are also mothers, my husband and my children. We then all came back here to drink tea while we straightened my sister's unruly, afro hair with a hair straightener heated to 4000 degrees because that was the only way to get those curls to lose their bounce.

Afterwards is when the real treat came. My husband went out and bought me two dozen of the biggest, freshest pacific oysters he could find and french champagne to go with it. Right now he's cooking me up a prawn curry and I'm salivating at the thought of it.

All this caring and loving leaves me wanting to remind everyone of how important it is to care for even those we don't know very well.

Yesterday I attended the wedding of Maya's half sister. The bride was beautiful, the weather was perfect and the whole thing went off without a hitch. Perfectly planned and executed. After the ceremony we all met up at a nearby cafe for drinks, meals and a little bit of partying. A work colleague of the bride, someone who I had never previously met, was seated at my table for dinner. This woman was such a happy, beautiful person that I warmed to her instantly. She imbibed a little too much on the free flowing champagne and very quickly found herself a little under the weather. She left the table between courses to have a cigarette. When she hadn't returned after the rest of us had finished our meals I got a little worried.

I went to look for her but could not find her. I asked some others, people I thought were her friends, to help me look for her. Their responses shocked me. They were all like "well she's probably gone for a sleep in the park, she was pretty drunk you know. She'll be right. She'll sleep it off and get home some how". I was horrified that they could care so little. We were after all in a cafe, located in an inner city park, a place where one certainly would not want to be left alone under a tree to sleep it off. Who knows what might have happened to her. I continued to search for her but to no avail. I again asked some others to help me find her. I was worried. People who knew her said she didn't normally drink but she was stupid for drinking so much so quickly. It was like they were inviting her to attract trouble. If it were my teenage daughter and her friends were so callous I would lock her up and never let her near them ever again.

Eventually she was found. She had been just across the road, waiting for the effects to wear off a little. She was ok. A little sick but otherwise fine.

Guitar picking

My daughter has gone to a party and taken her guitar. Should I be worried? I would like to think not because she is a superstar now. A guitar picking, song playing superstar in her own right. She jammed with my brother-in-law last weekend and he has been short listed to play with Paul Kelly through a Triple J competition. That means she's only a breath away from stardom. Soon I'll be kicking away potential suitors from the door.

Until she returns I'll stay awake. I wouldn't want her to think I was happy enough to sleep while she was showcasing her talents in front of her peers.

PS ignore the curtains in the background of this photo, although I quite like their hideousness. They came with my sister and her husband's recently purchased home. They have no intention of keeping them, at least not in that room. They were thinking of giving them pride of place in the loungeroom.

Busted Whoopee Cushion

Whoa! Look at me, two posts in one day! I had something on my mind and it occurred to me that perhaps there are other people in the world who are as insane as me sometimes. I occasionally get these irrational thoughts of having to be super organised. I only sometimes have these thoughts because usually I am so "take it as it comes" and life gets a bit crazy as a result.

Anyway I had just opened the refrigerator to find all manner of half eaten left overs. All of them still perfectly eatable but by next week they won't be. Suddenly I thought I had better get rid of everything in the fridge because, you know, I might be starting my new job for real next week and well, all this fridge stuff will be in the way and I might never get a chance to clean it up, EVER!

Then I panicked about the enormous pile of ironing lying on my spare sofa, right in the middle of the loungeroom, right where I can see it. I wondered if I should manically start ironing but then I just walked right past it. I did nothing about that panicky thought and as soon as I had moved away I had a panicky thought about how dirty the floor is. I've been so caught up in having no job and believing I'll have time for it tomorrow that nothing has been done. I know I've said in my previous posts that I've been doing this stuff but I lied. I haven't done any of it. There's stuff that needs to be done and I've not done any of it!

I have been busy job hunting and catching up on talking to my friends by email who are probably going to be so happy that I have a job to go to and will not have the time to harass them with written words of nothing. They'll probably throw a party.

I sat on the whoopee cushion too hard and busted it. It's no longer funny.

So I'm over the business of finding a new job, although I did yesterday receive two more requests for an interview. It felt pretty good to say I was no longer in the running. Still I have yet to iron out the details of my new job. Hopefully that is going to happen Monday. In the meantime I now need to find time to just hang out and do nothing.

Week one of being unemployed was full of the grief one feels over losing a job. Week two was full of applying for jobs and week three has been tidying up loose ends. Now I need one more week just to lie around like a slob sucking on lollypops and reading trashy novels. Of course if I get a spare week that's not what I will really do. I'll more than likely spend it doing some more washing, ironing, shopping, cooking and cleaning. Anymore weeks off work and I will be dead broke so I probably shouldn't push it too far.

Henry has taken to role playing and always wants to play "daycare". He wants me to be him and for him to be mummy or Miss Alison, his day care teacher. Last week he had an ear infection. He had a dose of anti-biotics over the weekend and seemed fine to go back to daycare on the Monday so I sent him. I got a call from Miss Alison around lunchtime telling me he was upset and saying his ear hurt. As I had just finished at a job interview I asked her to comfort him till I got there and to tell him I was on my way.

He had fallen asleep by the time I arrived so I picked him up and carried him out to the car. He roused and was fully awake by the time we got home. I gave him a dose of pain killers and he was back to his hell-raising antics within half an hour. It's this episode that he wants to replay when we play "daycare".

He tells me, in a stern voice, to just lie down and rest on my mattress. Then he suddenly shows concern for me and in a gentle voice says "it's alright, your mummy is coming soon". He then walks out of the room and comes back with a huge smile on his face and says "Hi darling, are you ok?" He leans in close and whispers in my ear something unintelligible. He then attempts to pick me up and tells me he is going to take me to see Dr Helen. He then runs out to get his doctor kit and comes back to gently guide me into the chair. He says "Now Henry, how are you feeling? Is your ear sore?". He checks me over thoroughly just as Dr Helen would. Then he offers me a lolly and says "I'll show you to the door, it was nice to see you again Henry. I hope you're feeling better soon".

If I say the wrong thing at the wrong time during these games I get a lecture. He stands with his hands on hip and talks in a stern voice but doesn't seem to be saying anything I can understand. Perhaps that's a sign that he doesn't understand me when I am angry...phew!

So we have just now bought a whooppee cushion and the two of us haven't laughed so much in months. The best $2.99 I've ever spent. Fake farts are just so damned amusing.

Job after job after job

I've been out of work just a little over a week and I've had two job offers. I also had a second interview this morning for a job I'm not sure I'm suited to but I've had a verbal offer for a job I am very excited about. All the details of it are yet to be polished as they have created a position for me.

Finally I managed to land an interview with someone who recognised and appreciated my talents.

In the meantime I will enjoy my time at home taking care of the family and doing their washing, ironing, cooking and cleaning. After that I'll be keen to get back to work and ignore it.

Lovely shirt and other lovely shirt

Being unemployed means not having to dress up because, well I've got nowhere to go. I've tried to make some kind of an effort to look at least half way reasonable while hanging out at home however. Yesterday I pulled out my nicest pair of jeans (the ones without any holes in them), t-shirt and knitted shirt which is unravelling at the seams. Henry took one look at me and said "Mum, why do you have on that lovely pair of jeans and lovely shirt and other lovely shirt?"

I told him that I had dressed like a Queen just for him. I wanted him to admire me for my ability to continue to pay attention to my appearance even when I have no reason to.

Sons are the best things a mother can have. Henry is always complimenting me. When I get a hair cut he is always the first to say "Mum, your hair looks nice". If Ben or Maya leave the house with only a cursory goodbye Henry quickly prompts them to say it "nicer". "Dad and Sister, you need to say goodbye nicer to Mum and give her a kiss".

I know that this might not necessarily carry over into his teenage years or his adult years but for now I'm going to soak it up.

SC1 - Demonstrated ability to update blog in a timely manner

The process of looking for a job is a full time job in itself. It is almost impossible to find the time to find one if you already have a job. Lucky for me I don't currently have one.

I've addressed selection criteria after selection criteria and written cover letter after cover letter. Well maybe about four or five in actual fact but because addressing selection criteria can sometimes take an entire day it feels like I've addressed millions of them. And why do they all have to be so ridiculously stupid? "Demonstrated ability to multi-task in a deadline driven environment while remaining calm under pressure". Of course you can't write something like "I have been a mother for 15 years and multi-tasking is my second name. I am able to successfuly use the bathroom while taking a call and peeling a banana for my toddler son whose deadlines are non-negotiable. I have however, well developed negotiating skills when dealing with more reasonable and mature minded people such as my husband and 15 year old daughter who have learned that patience always pays off. I am able to calmly explain to them that requests from the Managing Director take priority because he is easily able to make life unbearable for the rest of the team if his needs are not met".

No, one must sell oneself when addressing selection criteria and although I would consider the above example to be perfect, a potential money paying employer doesn't want to hear it. They want to know that you're familiar with job hunting buzz words like "team player", "implement", "Executive decision making skills", "effective communication skills", "exceeding sales expectations". Things that at the end of the day just show that you know how to use buzz words but don't say that you in any way can do the job.

So obviously I've managed to address some selection criterias reasonably well in the past week because I've been out of a job only one week and already had two very positive interviews. While I need the money I kind of wish it had been a little harder. Some more time to dwell on my own much needed mind rest would have been nice.

Never mind, there are plenty of people looking for jobs and I should just be grateful. But all those Gen Y'ers out there looking to change careers so frequently are turning the tides with employers. They're looking now for people who want to commit and are offering great working incentives to keep them. Lucky for me I guess.

Will keep you all posted on my progress

Love and Dusters

Why is it that men look sexy when they're pushing a vacuum cleaner and weilding a duster but women just look tired and frumpy?

I know the answer to that and it's probably worthy of even further psychoanalysis but I'm not sure if I have the energy to go into that right now. Oh stuff it, I will.

It's because it's so rare for men to be seen doing anything other than lying on the couch with a beer in one hand and a remote control in the other. They're out of their comfort zone but when they do deign to pick up the duster they do a damn good job. That makes them hotter than hell. It makes us want to remind ourselves of why we married them in the first place. Sadly that's when we have to make the effort to wash our best flannelette pyjamas and dig in our drawers for the "love" undies - the only pair we own without a hole in them - and show them how much we appreciate the fact that they appreciate us enough to pick up the duster.

Crappiest Week Ever.

Since the only joy I've had this week was hearing Henry ask the cafe waitress if she knew the Spider Pig song I'm not going to write about it (my week that is). I am going to say that I'd love to run away to a deserted island that has a refrigerator stocked full of tequila, lemons and sea salt.

Anyone want to join me?

Bamboo Energy

This morning, just when I was wondering what I could do to entertain Henry, I got a text message from Carla. She was heading to the Botanical Gardens to entertain her own children there. She invited us along. Perfect! My brain was able to relax because it had been given an answer my other brain did not have to seek out.

As always Carla and I discuss the difficulties of parenting small children. She has two small children and I only have one small child but still the difficulties are the same. We sometimes remember to say how nice they are too. She's decided that the only way to get any peace for part of the day is to take her children out and tire them out. I'm the same. If Henry is bored for even two minutes my life is hell. Sometimes I am already sick of hearing the word "Mum" by 6AM. The word is usually accompanied by a bored sounding groan. It's similar to a cat who hasn't been fed for a few hours. It's "Muuuummmm" followed by leg hanging. It's nice to be so loved but not so nice when you're trying to take care of morning ablutions - the time when EVERYONE deserves privacy.

Charli and Henry greated each other with the biggest of hugs as though they hadn't seen each other for almost a century. Henry, whose energy is never depleted, had climbed several rocks, swung from some bamboo and swum across the lake by the time Charli warmed up. By then Zie was getting ready to sleep so we had to leave.

On the way home we stopped by the local barber to have Henry's hair trimmed. Despite my telling the guy that I didn't want short back and sides that's what he got. He looks like an army sergeant now. I won't be taking orders from him.