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.
Friday, September 19, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, September 15, 2008
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.
Friday, September 05, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, September 04, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
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.
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.
Friday, August 29, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
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.
Friday, August 08, 2008
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.
Friday, July 25, 2008
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.
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.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
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.
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.
Friday, July 18, 2008
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.
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.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
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.
Friday, July 04, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
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?
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
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.
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