Dreaming

My friend Mel left a comment on my last post. She was hoping I was feeling better. I was going to reply to her comment and say yes indeed I was but I woke up this morning feeling like I am dying from something that can kill me. I've been battling my usual springtime sinus infection which invariably leads to my chest but now on top of that I seem to either have another sinus infection or the head cold from hell. It's almost impossible to breathe through my nose. I think there's enough snot in it to fill a vegemite jar which I could then take to work to show to my work mates. I'll tell them I'm conducting a science experiment. Just like I used to at school. That ought to make them pleased I came into work.

The good news is Henry's ears appear to be clearing. Dr Helen took a look at them yesterday and said they were indeed improving. She agreed with me about holding off on surgery unless it was absolutely warranted. I felt a whole lot better after that. Well that was up until I had to go to the supermarket with Henry in tow on the way home.

When I collected Henry from daycare yesterday afternoon he was all alone outside the office of his teacher while all the other children were playing happily in the playground. I asked him what was wrong and he said "I was pushing my friends around and I didn't do what Charmaine said". At least he was forthright about it. I spoke to Charmaine who said she'd given him two warnings and when he didn't listen the third time she took him with her away from the other children for some time out. I found this time out thing a little unusual given that the other naughty child in their group, who carries a dagger to daycare, receives no punishment or time out for his bad behaviour. Maybe because he's special and has ODD (Optional Defiance Disorder). A child who threatens a teacher with a chair is best left alone to do what he likes.

Anyway I had always told Charmaine that I wanted her to use time out for Henry at daycare when he misbehaves as that's what we use at home and it seems to be most effective. So she did. I don't know if some kid had slipped Henry some stimulant drugs in the playground but he was suddenly ODD as well. He loves Doctor Helen and so is always very polite and charming with her but the minute we left there and headed for the supermarket he became the child every parent dreads. By the time we got to the checkout I was ready to chain him to the bike rack outside the doors while I paid for the groceries. He was driving me nuts. I began to wonder if he'd eaten a bag of sugar while I wasn't looking. The young girl at the checkout, who seemed not yet old enough to understand the word "children" let alone be serving at the checkout, glared at Henry while packing my groceries as if she were staring straight into the eyes of hell.

So it took some serious behavioural intervention when we got home to get him to settle down but he eventually did. By then I was almost dead and could feel my head cold getting worse by the second. I went to bed and tried to fall asleep so that I could dream that I would wake up in a new life.

Give me a pin

Sometimes it feel like things just get too much. When things don't go according to plan for a few weeks in a row I feel like I'm stuck inside an expanding bubble that's building momentum as it rolls down a steep hill. All I can hope for is that it jags on an abandoned stiletto and bursts.

The last few weeks have been like that for me. Yesterday was the day I felt the bubble had rolled long enough but I didn't stumble across any abandoned stilettos. To top of a few weeks of frustration I walk into the surgery of a specialist doctor I've been seeing at three monthly intervals for the past two and a half years and he says I don't really remember you and I should because your case is very interesting. I think my jaw nearly hit the floor. This was the supposed guru I had been told by everyone was the man to see, the person who recently told me to spend two days in the hospital so they could try to work out what was going on, the person who each time I have visited has asked me to retell my story. The last few times I did that I thought it was simply because he wanted an update. When he told me he didn't remember me I thought I was going to have to stand up and bash him stupid with my handbag. I was that frustrated. Mind you I was feeling a little fragile even before I arrived but I think I was justified in my anger.

So I ask him to check his files to refresh his memory. He tells me that would take too long and he wouldn't be able to find everything he needed in a hurry. I offer no response and just stare at him. He starts yawning. By now I've resigned myself to the fact that this visit, like all the others, is a complete waste of time and decide to remain silent. I won't offer anything. If he can't look through his files I can't help him. He talks about stuff I already knew. I walk out no wiser than I was before I arrived.

I spent the rest of the day getting in and out of the car driving kids around dropping them off, picking them up, doing the grocery shopping...I know, it's boring but all I felt like doing yesterday was lying on the couch watching the mindless banter on Ready Steady Cook with a bottle of wine, and a cold pack on my forehead.

Because Henry hadn't slept he was like some wild feral child who had been found wandering around the jungle communicating only with animals by the time I collected him from my mother and brought him home. He's been sick again and a recent visit to the ENT specialist has revealed that he'll likely need grommets in his ears. His entire winter was spent with an ear infection, treated by antibiotics. It just never cleared up fully and has now become "glue ear". We've booked him in for the surgery, on my birthday no less, but I'm hoping that it may clear up on it's own before then as I don't want to have to subject him to a general anesthetic if it's not necessary. It's possible that it will now that the warmer weather is upon us. If it doesn't and we don't get the grommets he could have permanent hearing loss and possible further infections elsewhere. The ridiculous thing is that the plastic grommets themselves - little plastic tubes - cost a grand total of $40. The operation to insert them will cost over $1000.

Maya is home for the next two weeks because it's school holidays. She's planned shopping trips but has no money because she hasn't worked for a couple of weeks as she was sick and then away at school camp. She's going to ask me for some but I have none to give her either and even if I did I wouldn't be handing it over as she will only buy more clothes she doesn't need. She has her school semi-formal coming up - in November- but for some reason all of her friends bought their dresses like way back in grade 8 (not quite but very early) and Maya has been nagging me to take her shopping so she could buy hers. We did last weekend and bought something fabulous that was also fabulously priced. I had been discouraging her from trying to get it so soon as I know her too well. Once she owns something she is over it and wants something else. I had advised her to leave it until only a couple of weeks prior to the formal so there was less chance she'd grow to hate it and want something else. But no...mother's don't know anything. It had to be bought soon, like now, because everyone else had theirs. We searched through what seemed like several hundreds shops, some of them Maya declared too old lady, some just plain ugly. Just as we were about to give up we spotted a dress - she loved it, tried it on and it looked perfect. Beautiful! We both agreed that it was just right. We hadn't yet looked at the price tag of it and I was expecting maybe $150 at least. I snuck a peek and when I saw the orange sale price tag that said $9.95 I couldn't believe it. I rushed outside to the rack to check the others and found that it was indeed marked down to $9.95. I ran back screaming to Maya - Oh my God, it's like only $9.95, oh my God. She cringed and hid down in the corner of the dressing room.

We paid for the dress and left. As we were walking out of the centre only five minutes later Maya says "I'm not really in love with that dress." I knew it, I knew it was going to happen but I didn't think it would be so soon. I thought it might take a day but five minutes. I blew my stack right there in the shopping centre, in front of all the shoppers, who were shopping - I said all the usual things like I knew it, I knew you would do this, that's it, if you want another dress you have to ask your father, I've done my bit. God, you're so ungrateful. I just spent a whole $9.95 on a dress for you and this is how you show your gratitude. Just like it doesn't matter that I nearly went broke for you.

Poor thing, she skulked to the car, came home and took the dress to show her friend who declared it beautiful and perfect and stunning. She was fine after that and hasn't asked me for another one yet. She will though.

I hope my bubble bursts today so I can breathe again.

A year makes all the difference

While recently babysitting a friend's four year old who was inserting a game into the XBOX console.

C: This game's really old. It was my dad's game when he was three.

Me: I didn't think they had XBOX when your dad was three.

C: Oh, he must have been four.

Boy Meets Girl

I'm slowly learning that my son can be completely charming when he wants to be. This cute little bundle of sweet girl child that Henry was lucky enough to spend some time with recently survived his hurly gurly madness.

Eva, and her parents were in Australia this past weekend all the way from New Zealand. This was the first time we had met her because she was born in New Zealand after her mother moved back there three years ago. She is so incredibly sweet that it almost makes me want to try for another in the hopes that I can reproduce her. Not only is she super intelligent but she is gentle, quiet and reasonably calm. If it could be guaranteed that any child I gave birth to was like her I would do it a million times.

Her parents left her with us for a night while they went and enjoyed some adult time alone. She went to bed here in a strange bed in a strange house with nary a peep. When she woke in the morning she behaved as if she'd spent oodles of time with us. She was happy and comfortable in our presence and Henry didn't try to beat her up even once.

Since she left he's been wandering around the house finding things that she didn't break (as if she would) and declaring everything to be ok.

Ben has only said approximately 23 times that Eva was the sort of child he expected Henry to be when he first learned we were pregnant. Still, I love the one we did get.

The Gender Difference

I have a son and I have a daughter. That means I have one of each. No need to say duh! out loud because I already said it to myself. I know that one daughter and one son means that I have two children, one of each sex. I've been lucky enough to get one of each with only two attempts at it. I often wonder though what it may have been like if I had two of the same sex, born close enough together to like each other enough to play Barbie, or trucks at the same time or at the very least, in the same room. The two I have don't like to play together very often and I'm left wondering about their differences. One is their age, the other is their gender. My girl, when she was Henry's age was delightful, smart, funny and cute but she also had that thing that only girls appear to have - a very short emotional fuse. She was active but wasn't trying to kill herself by climbing on ladders while carrying a screwdriver that she thought would help her fix the light socket. She was more of a sensitive, caring and temperamental child - meaning that she would scream the house down when she was tired and couldn't have chocolate for dinner.


Henry, my boy child, well he's just more like - look here you people, this is the way I like and this is the way it will be. There is no room for negotiation and if you try to stop me I will likely snub you for up to 24 hours.

Henry also NEVER SITS STILL EVER. He should have been born with a danger label stuck on his forehead and some yellow and black luminescent tape holding his legs and arms to his body rendering him incapable of jumping, climbing and running through automatically opening doors just as they're about to close. If someone had told me that I would be trading the emotional blackouts for having to constantly be on my guard in order to keep my child alive I would have made sure I gave birth to only a girl child. At least I could sit for hours with earplugs in my ears while Maya wailed about not being able to get Barbie's undies over her hips. With Henry I have to be on alert at all times. As a result of this not much gets done around here. Dinner has become a free for all - if you can find food that has not yet turned rotten, eat it but do it quick because you might have to save Henry from getting his head trapped in the washing machine.

I have a teenager and as far as teenagers go I couldn't ask for a better one. She's sensible, smart and thoughtful (I know this could end at any minute) but I just know I'm still going to have to follow Henry everywhere when he's Maya's age to make sure he comes home alive. Henry's smart and thoughtful too at age three but he just needs to fix things and he doesn't think yet about how he's going to fix them and I'm not sure he ever will.

Doritos to the rescue

When you spend all day cleaning your firetruck and rescuing stuff you need to refuel and the only way to do that is with a pack of Doritos.

For Our Friends in France

This was once our local Woolworths supermarket. I believe they've yanked it down to make way for a bigger, better and newer version. I didn't mind the existing one but the car park was a major pain in the behind and if you had a car that fit more than two people in it you couldn't park there.

I miss that supermarket. I miss the staff that worked there that we came to know and who always asked after Henry. With a bit of luck they'll all be back before Christmas but progress will be slow and somehow I don't see how it can happen.

And guess what else??? Right now it's raining. For some of you who read this you will be saying "big deal". But for us it is a HUGE deal. It hasn't rained in like twenty years. When we look out our window across the city the trees that were once all nice and green seem like sad silhouettes against the skyline. It's so dry that even the weeds won't grow. We've been limited to four minute showers, been told to do one less load of washing a week, feed all the grey water to the garden etc, etc. People have stopped talking about the weather as a matter of small talk because there's only been one thing to say and that is - "gee it's dry isn't it?" Of course because there are really no other subjects for small talk people just stop talking. Talking about the dry gets boring and there's no variation on the dryness to even discuss. It's just dead, bone dry.

Right now the birds are singing and dashing between the trees like all their Christmases have come at once . It will probably only last two minutes but those two minutes will be enough to provide small talk amongst the family for a good hour.

Kitty Cat Dance

We found this on youtube. Apparently so did hundreds of thousands of others. Henry thinks it's hilarious and I suspect that 100,000 of the hits it's received are from us.

Couch Parent

Why is that father's are able to successfully parent from the couch? Ben can simultaneously watch television and instruct Henry on exactly where to place his cars and how to operate all his toys. What bothers me the most is Henry accepts this and listens without complaint to the instructions that are handed out to him. He NEVER does that for me. I have to be participating at all times with my eyes on him and my hands on the toys.

In my next life I'm going to be a father. It seems so much easier.

The Big Three

Henry turned three yesterday. We didn't do much in the way of celebration because when you're three you really only care that someone has provided presents and cake and candles. That's all Henry wanted. For days leading up to his birthday he kept saying "I'm two, for my birthday I want presents and cake and candles." So we obliged.


I had tried to make a cake (using a packet mix because while I can cook I can't bake) and I failed. In the words of Ben's mother - it was a bad mix. It must have been out of date or someone had tampered with the ingredients. It was a miserable excuse for a cake and so I rang my mother. She who has the answer to everything came up with this. Just whipped it up in two seconds flat.



When it came time to eat it though he wasn't really interested. He just wanted to blow out the candles and sing Happy Birthday about ten times over because at the end everyone cheered for him and it made him feel ten feet tall.


There was no huge party, only family around to share in the excitement with him and that was more than enough. He was exhausted by 5.30PM and took himself to bed after declaring that he was tired and needed to sleep. I wasn't far behind.

Happy Birthday Henry!

We're all Normal

I recently read this post on Dr Mama's blog in which she wonders if she is doing something wrong as a mother because her son is, well, by the sounds of it, completely normal.

All parents ask that question at some point. I know I do each and every day. Not so much with Henry as I did with Maya but I still wonder sometimes if I was a different kind of parent would I have raised a much quieter, less willful, and more co-operative child. I know the real question should be - won't somebody take this child away from me for half a day so I can breathe quietly and concentrate on one thing, such as using the lavatory.

Dr Mama says her child needs to be with her constantly. Well that sounds fairly normal to me. Henry NEVER. LEAVES. ME. ALONE. EVER. He needs to have me with him at ALL TIMES doing whatever it is he happens to be doing. No one else will do. It has to be me. I should be flattered that he thinks so highly of me and sometimes I am. Sometimes I just want to be able to pick the hairs out of my nose, all alone, without having to pretend I'm driving a fire truck at the same time.

I've often told expectant parents to have someone follow them around 24 hours a day tapping them on the shoulder and calling their name every ten seconds in order to prepare themselves for the fact that they will never, ever, be alone again because that's just what it's like. It's like having your subconscious sitting right on your shoulder, watching that you don't ever let yourself slip into a state of idleness. Watching that you don't misuse your alone time and that you keep your toilet breaks to a minimum of two minutes.

Just this morning to kill some time and get some exercise Henry and I walked to the local shops to run some errands. It started off ok but quickly turned into an outing (like all others) that I wished I'd never attempted. He can't stay still. Not for one second. He cannot simply stand in one spot or sit on a chair for more than a second or two. In the few minutes it took me to hand over the prescription to the pharmacist he ran up and down the aisles, rearranged all the neatly lined nail polishes, moved the Vitamin C bottles into the Fish Oil section, opened a few boxes of tissues and pushed the pram into a lovely display of facial moisturisers and knocked them over. Then we had to wait for the prescription to be filled. I tried to encourage him to sit still in the chairs that had been placed there for waiting customers but that didn't work. He'd seen some lipsticks that had not been nailed down. Before I could get to him and save them he'd opened them all and changed the lids around on some of them.

We left there all apologetic and made our way to the butcher. While I was being served he had to open and close the door several times to make the customer alert bell ring just because it sounded like a fire alarm. I was going to attempt the supermarket but I was too exhausted. Instead I headed for home. But as Henry knows the way to the supermarket and had heard me say earlier in the morning that I needed to go there he threw an almightly tantrum when I continued on past the street that would have led us there. I had to bribe him by telling him he could help me make his birthday cake when we got home. He didn't forget that and as soon as we neared home he ran up the driveway and into the house and had the oven open before I'd even had a chance to put down my shopping. "Come on Mum, we need to make my birthday cake". Every day is like this. I have to, as many parents do, continually think about what I say before I say it because he has a memory like an elephant. If I don't follow through on a promise, he throws a tantrum strong enough to wake the dead. The good thing is though, when he does this at home, he realises his mistake and takes himself to the naughty corner.

Parenting is tough, sometimes it even totally sucks. We're under much more pressure than ever to make sure our children are stimulated enough and learning enough and dressed well enough and eating a nutritionally balanced diet and are not exposed to any potentially psychologically harming situations and the list goes on.

Sometimes I deliberately ignore Henry when he's whimpering for my attention. Most times there's nothing wrong and he simply wants me to find the fire truck he can't be bothered to find himself. He usually only does this when he thinks I might be doing something that is not related in some way to him. The only times I'm not with him lately is when I'm at work and on the toilet. Anything else is impossible to achieve and there are some things I rarely attempt if I have Henry with me, like clothes shopping, shaving my legs, making a phone call, paying a bill, writing on my blog, catching up with friends because the pain that I feel when doing those things with him attached to me is not worth it. I'll do them when he's older. By then I'll need a tree trimmer to take care of my legs, my friends will have all disappeared and I'll be only be capable of singing the Fireman Sam theme song over the telephone.

Every child is "normal" in that they will, at some point, drive their parents completely insane. There are no parents however who would give their children back simply because they've been driven insane.

Tomorrow is Henry's third birthday. Three years ago today he started to make his intention to join the world clear to me. Despite being occasionally difficult he has been the most precious gift to all of us and we're overjoyed to know him. He can destroy all the pharmacies he likes and try to force me to play trucks all day because not being able to do that would be far worse than having to.

The Great Steam Train Ride

In honour of Henry's third birthday next week we took him on a steam train ride. It was just a short one hour but it would have been fine if it had taken a whole day. As we breathed in the old time smell of the coal steam we all imagined the stories those leather clad seats could tell if they could only talk.

Kan U TXT my score to me? Gr8!

How teenagers communicate.

Perhaps I've been feeling a little stressed

MT: Hello. Is this Mrs Mother?

ME: Speaking

MT: Hello Mrs Mother, this is Ms Teacher from Wagit State High School. I'm just calling to talk to you about your daughter's unexplained absences from school.

Me: I don't know anything about that. My daughter goes to school every day. I see her leave in the morning. She's a good girl. There's no way she would wag school, especially after I told her about what happened to me when I wagged it. God, I can't believe you're calling me accusing me of having a daughter who WAGS school. As if! Do you know how upsetting it is for me to hear you accuse me like that? Like I don't care. I know what you're going to say. You're going to say that my children should be taken away from me because they don't show up for school...I feed them you know, they eat every day. It might not always be good, nutritious food but they eat. I mean there's always bread and vegemite in the house. Lord above I can't believe this (starting to cry). Do you know how hard it is to raise teenagers these days? Well, do you? Probably not, all you teachers are the same. You get on your high horse and have the audacity to just call parents and tell them they're not good enough because their children don't bother showing up to school. I'm going to write to the Minister for Education you know and tell him how awful you've made me feel. You'll be hauled across the coals for this. You might even lose your job....

MT: Um, Mrs Mother. I just wondered if you or your daughter had an explanation, that's all. I'm sure there's a good reason for it. It's just that we don't have her on the roll for three days over the last month is all. Maybe she was just late and didn't get marked off. Perhaps you could...

ME: Oh sure. That's what you say but I know you really mean to spy on me and find out my business don't you? You people can't help yourselves.

MT: No Mrs Mother that's not what I'm trying to do. Look, would you just ask your daughter if she has an explanation and get back to us. We need to be able to account for those days. It's a legal requirement.

ME: Oh so now you're going to bring the law into it. Well I'm calling my solicitor.

MT: Ok Mrs Mother. You do that. But please just ask your daughter about the absent days and get back to me.

ME: Alright then I will but when this is all over you're going to be sorry you even called me.


Later...

ME: Maya. Come here please.

M: God. What! I'm trying to blow up my ear drums with my Ipod. This had better be important.

ME: Watch your mouth young lady. This IS important. Why weren't you at school on days blah, blah, blah.

M: Oh God Mum. I was at school. I was just late and missed getting my name on the roll.

ME: Well that's not what the teacher said. She said you were wagging it. She said you were drinking and smoking down near that creek bed near the sportsfield. You better not have been. You know I've got enough on my plate to deal with right now...

M: Mum. I was. God why don't you believe me. You go off at me all the time for nothing. I'm sick of it.

ME: Well if it's so bad then perhaps you should find a new family. One that lets you wag school whenever you want...

M: Ring up the school if you want and get them to check all my other lessons. I just was late for form that's all.

ME: Alright. I will. And I suppose you were late for form because you were kissing boys...

M: No Mum. I wasn't.

Later still...

MT: Hello. Is this Mrs Mother?

ME: Yes it is.

MT: This is Ms Teacher from Wagit State High School. I've checked the record of attendance at other classes and it seems your daughter was at school but she had missed her form class and so missed getting her name on the roll. I'm sorry if we caused you any distress.

ME: Yes well so am I. What with your ringing here and accusing my daughter of being a drug addict because she didn't show up for school. I told you she goes to school. Thank you for calling and straightening that out. Now I can let her out of the cage I lock her in when she misbehaves.



*Of course it didn't happen exactly like this but why the school couldn't actually check those records before calling me and sending me into a downward spiral of stupidness I'll never know*

Our day in pictures

As I write this Maya, Ben and Henry are behind me playing guitar. Well obviously Henry isn't but he's trying, unsuccessfully. It's been a day of bonding for our family. One that has been long overdue. Maya was largely absent for it because she was at her guitar lesson and then at work but we all sat and ate dinner together when she came home.

While Maya was at her lessons me, Henry and Ben went to the park to play. When we dropped her at work we stayed for a burger for lunch. Then we left Henry with Nana for a little while to do some shopping. Finally we came home and stuffed ourselves stupid with a delicious home made curry lovingly made by Ben.

While we had plans to clean the house we let it all go by the wayside and I'm glad we did. After what has been a hectic few weeks it was nice to all hang out together and just be.

Way Cool...

This is a photo of my eye. I'm only posting it because it is way cool.

Tip of the day

When parking in a "pay on exit" carpark always ensure you have your wallet with you in your handbag and not at home on the dining table.

Trucks the size of ships

Just to get out of the house today we took a trip to the Port of Brisbane thinking we'd get to see some big ships. We didn't. Instead we found these...


He says he was crying in this photo but he was only posing.

The Genes Don't Fit

Have you been working out at the gym?

No.

Well how come your butt is so small?

I don't know.

We have the same mother and father. How come I got the big butt and you got the small one?

I don't know. Maybe they just got you the wrong size genes.

My new nephew

Kai Brett. Born July 13