Someone Like You

When I was young I used to love looking for similarities between my parents and myself. There were funny things like the way that my dad flicks his toes when he watches TV. There were physical things like the way my mum laughed. There were things that seemed hard to grasp like the fact that Dad and I see the world in similar way and often have similar wants ... these ones are harder to put down as nature verses nurture but still they were similarities. I have all of these traits and I found them comforting. Proof that I belonged with them, to them

I am starting to see some of Andrews and my traits in our children. The way that Hamish burns brighter the more tired he is. This means he talks a million miles an hour and starts dancing and singing then sits down and falls asleep in two seconds flat just like me. He also has ABs tenacity the ability to set his mind to something and work tirelessly at it until he has achieved it. For example AB worked four jobs at 20 something to get the money together for a house. Jack has his dads cool head and my emotionality. It became very obviously today when I had the following conversation with Jack.

J: Mum.

Me: (Looking up to see him sitting with tears in his eyes) Yes babe, what's up?

J: Sometimes when I draw a 'Happy Valentines Day' I get happy sad.

Me: What do you mean honey?

J: When I draw a happy valentines day sometimes I happy cry.

Me: Sorry baby, what's a happy valentines day?

J: You know when you write something for someone you love

Me: (still a little perplexed) What are you writing baby?

J: I'm drawing a picture of Hamish with a love heart for a head and it made me happy sad.

Me: (still trying to catch up) You got happy sad because you were drawing about how you feel about Hamish?

He walked over to me with a picture of Hamish with a love heart for a head and told me that he didn't want me to tell Hamish it was a drawing of him, but that I needed to keep it forever because it was all about how much he loved Hamish and it was very special.

Ohh happy sad indeed. A concept I know well and that my children often bring out in me. That is one trait I am happy to pass onto my children.

It was a very simple drawing compared to his usual creations but I will keep it, I hope forever.

Beach kind of Day

I am not a beachy kind of person.  I love the water when its in a river or backyard pool but generally I can take or leave the beach.

Last sunday the weather man was predicting that the we were going to have a heat wave and so a few of my friends started talking about going to the beach.

My first thought was ... You've got to be kidding, its going to be super hot, its all sandy, the kids won't go in because of the waves and there will be me on my own (AB had a golf game up the mountains) with two hot cranky kids, my huge bag full of beach paraphanalia and I don't even like the beach in the first place.

My second thought was ... Get over it and just go you never know you might even enjoy yourself.

And I did! Mostly because we went to a beach with no sand or waves (which are the two things I don't like about the beach) the clouds were covering the sun so it wasn't too hot (yet) and you got to dive off the rocks swim in crystal clear water for a bit and then go and sit in the shade next to a rock while the kids play in the rock pools gathering sea shells, looking at anemones and paddling in the water.

For the first time I left the beach wondering when we could go back again.

Adventures with Boys (TMI)

For those of you who don't want to read about penises' stop reading now. It could be to much information (TMI)

Because I have two boys and the penis is something that we talk about a fair bit.  We talk about anatomy in general a lot but the penis is the favourite.

We talk about the structure; forskin, scrotum, testses etc and we talk about what we do with it; how to clean it, where the wee comes from, why is mine smaller than daddies and so on.

This has been made more challenging by the 'Why' stage.

Jack didn't really go through a 'Why' stage he went through a 'What is' stage and that was ... Interesting.  But in true Hamish style (meaning that he likes to fill any gaps that Jack leaves in our parenting journey) he is fully into asking why.

Todays why's were about what else but his penis.  Why is it that colour? Why does my forskin come back? Why do we wee out of our penis? Etc.  This was made harder by the fact that he is tired so the answers I gave did not seem to fit his criteria.  So conversations went something like this;

H: Mummy, what's this called?
Me: It's called the head of your penis
H: Why?
Me: I'm not sure probably because it's at the top.
H: But why is it called the head?
Me: Umm like I said sweetie probably because its at the top.
H: But why?
Me: Hamish, I already told you sweetie I'm not sure what you want me to tell you?
H: (loudly) But why IS it called the head?

Cut to me wandering away with a 3.5yr old following me around yelling quiet loudly but not angrily WHY IS IT CALLED THE HEAD OF MY PENIS??

Needless to say I'm very glad that this conversation happened in the privacy of our home and not in the supermarket!

A Day in Their Shoes

I was sitting at a set of traffic lights today as I drove home from the city.  I was looking out my window and saw a guy begging on the street corner.  He was about my age, reasonable cleanly dressed and quiet looking.  He sat there on a piece of cardboard his hands together as if in prayer and just said "please" as people walked by.  He caught me eye, smiled and nodded.  I smiled and nodded back and had this overwhelming urge to open my wallet and give him the $5 I had in it.

Then the traffic started moving ... And I kept driving.

I regret that I didn't give him my $5.  I don't even care what he needed it for. Maybe he wanted to buy food, maybe it was cigarettes or crack or maybe he needed to catch a train to get the hell out of the place he was in.  Who am I to judge him until I have walked a day in his shoes?

He has been on my mind all day today.  I find myself wishing that I had parked the car and talked to him.  Maybe brought him a coffee and asked him who he is? and why he is there? but I know I wouldn't have done it. I would have worried that it would have come across as patronising or worried that he was crazy.  The least I could do (apparently) was drive away and the most I could have imagined was jumping out of the car and chucking $5 in his hand.

But how I wish I was the kind of person who stopped and talked to this man who is doing one of the things we as a society see as the lowest of the low.

Scab, Dero, Addict, Loser, Bum

But what about;

Man, Struggle, Human, Worthy

Why don't we feel a stronger need and desire to help people?

A friend of mine lives in a different area to me and she gets asked for money all the time.  She has actually given money and then 10 minutes later seen them go and buy cigarettes then go back to ask strangers for more money.  Maybe if I felt like I was asked for money every time I walked out my front door I would feel more hardened but I'm not.

So this afternoon I look at this beautiful life that I have made/been given and I hope to grow more into the sort of person who gives her last $5 to the man who seems to need it more than she does and maybe one day I will be the sort of person who sits down next to him with a coffee ... Or maybe not.

Hello My Pretty

Todays freaky Awkward Family Photos

Hello My Pretty

Snippet

This is really just a snippet of a post that really should be very long but I cant give writing it the mental clarity that it deserves at the moment.

Needless to say that I sort of feel lost at the moment. Its been quiet a few months in the making and I'm Ok with it. I'm just feeling it, playing with it like a handful of clay trying to see what comes out at the end. To try and help me clarify I started writing it out. Not as in a diary but a story of sorts, using different people I know and myself as inspiration for the characters.

I have no intention (although maybe a little hope) that it will ever be finished. It may never ever really get started but last Monday I wrote over 2,000 words and that it about 3 times bigger than anything fictional that I have written before.

So what is this blog post all about. Well I went onto Neil Gaimans Magnificent Ocular Journal. I wont tell you exactly what I asked but it something along the lines of "what now?" this was the response that I got;

And if you're on holiday, you can write your own novel with your toes waggling in the white sand and finish another chapter.

Now you cant tell me that isnt' a little freaky .... and a little bit cool

What Goes Around

Do you believe in 'Karma'? You know the idea what goes around comes around.  I do, I'm pretty sure I always have.  There are certainly times when life seems to be repayment for me giving it forward, or others when life is giving it back.  A perfect example is the coffee in the photo.  Let's start with the raffle ticket though.

A week ago I was selling raffle tickets at preschool for our fund raising night (that happens to be tonight) one of the dads said that he would like one ticket but as he gathered his change together he realised he was a bit short.  I have never had a conversation with this man but I knew I had some spare change in my bag and told him that I would donate the rest for him (of course I also told him if he won anything good I'd happily take half). 
One of the women also selling tickets said "don't worry about putting the money in it doesn't matter if the kitty is a few cents short" but it felt like the right thing to do was just add my change.

Today I went for a drive to buy a coffee.  We are out of beans and I didn't want to get the sleeping children out of the car to run into the supermarket.  After I parked I looked in my wallet and realised I only have $3.40 and had chosen one of the more expensive coffee shops.  I walked in and asked how much a small coffee was *fingers crossed* it was $3.30

"Great" I thought then the beautiful barista (literally and figuratively) said but a large is only $4

I smiled and said "nah a small is fine luckily I have $3.40"

He started making my coffee and then said "Would you have liked a large?"

"Um yeah, but I'm fine with a small"

He then presented me with a large coffee smiled and said
"That will be $3.40 please"

Call it karma, payback or maybe I just flirted outrageously with the beautiful barista (I didn't by the way) but whatever you think, I think it was proof of karma in action.

Tale from the Dentist Chair

I am not a woman that is scared of pain. I have had a homebirth for goodness sake. I also once let a woman who was learning to take blood have four goes at finding my vein (count it 1-2-3-4) but there is something about the dentist which inspires its own type of terror in my heart.

A while ago I was having some pain in my mouth. I had a feeling that it was a dodgy crown thanks to the last dodgy dentist I had seen, so I chose a new dentist to look at it. The issue wasn't with my crown but with the filling in the tooth next to it. She pulled the filling out and put a temporary one in and said to come back in 6 months.

Jump forward to earlier this week (which is apparently 2.5 years later) I had been noticing that my temporary filling was starting to disintegrate but in true 'Me' form kept putting off making an appointment. Then yesterday it started to hurt a little and I realised it had finally given up. So I made the appointment.

I was going to fill you in on all the awful details but I will summerise;

* 4 Needles

* New dental nurse who didn't seem to realise that she was pulling my mouth almost to the point of tearing with the sucky thing

* The dentist pointing out all of the issues with my teeth

* Me feeling like a naughty school girl for a. not flossing my teeth b. not going to the dentist every 6 months

* The dentist telling me that I was very sensitive (yes hello you have 4 hands and 3 instruments in my mouth)

* tears running down my cheeks while I was a. feeling very vulnerable b. being hurt c. wondering if this guy was just trying to make money out of my mouth.

So now here I am, my mouth feels huge numb and yet still sore. I just spilled my coffee because my lips aren't working properly. I am meant to make another 'maintenance' appointment but don't want to cause every time you go to the dentist its humiliating painful and scary.

Im sure that if I went more regularly then not all of my memories of the dentist would be so traumatic .... maybe I'll make the appointment after a good nights sleep or a few glasses of wine

The Neighbours

Just in case you can't tell, the green bushy stuff in front of my folded laundry is rosemary.  My neighbour brought it over this afternoon (actually he is not my neighbour he is my neighbours husband.  He lives in his own house around the corner, a relationship idea that some days seems like a good one)

The fact that he (a 70 odd year old man) walked past the quiet large rosemary bush that lines our front path seemed not to matter to him.  He had cut bits off his big rosemary bush and knocked on my front door asking if I wanted any to save it being wasted.

This is my neighborhood.  People often knocking on you door asking to borrow things (last week a neighbour asked to borrow my car because hers didn't have a car seat) asking you random questions (are you a JP or is there one in the street) or giving you gifts (last time this man was on my porch it was with an arm full of very strange magazines that I will never read). 

Somedays the interruptions to the sanctuary of your home are unwanted (2 weeks ago the old lady across the street came over and said she wanted a cup of tea. At the time the house was a mess the kids were screaming but she was 1/2 way to my kitchen before I could stop her) at other times they are a welcome reminder of the community we live in (2 days ago I walked next door and told my neighbour that I wanted a cup of tea and was 1/2 way to her kitchen before she could stop me)

Its always swings and round-a-bouts.  A few days ago a neighbour needed a litre of milk, today I went across the road to ask for some blu-tac.  A few months ago on a public holiday 5 of us stood in the middle of the street and wondered what we were going to cook for dinner (none of us realising that the shops were going to shut so early) so I gave one woman a can of tomatoes so she could make spaghetti another loaned me an onion so I could make a casserole and so it goes.  We all swapped ingredients until we had enough to make something respectable for dinner.  No one even talks about paying you back or replacing anymore we all know that we get it back one way or another.

A few months ago my neighbour needed some extra mince and a can of tomatoes for her bolognaise I gave her extra and she made enough to feed my family and hers.  Not to mention the Christmas party where we close the street off pull out our tables and chairs and share a meal.  Normally its the old man across the road who dresses as santa but last year it was AB and this year I suspect it may be the guy next door.

So now I am looking at all this rosemary.  Tonight I will cook potatoes with fresh rosemary because he is right it is a shame to waste it.  I might also strip a bit more off, leave it in the lounge room and use it to make the room smell nice.  And every time my neighbour gate crashes for a cuppa or I get sick of living in the city I remember how awesome it is that I live with these neighbours who have become something similar to family, can't live with them but would be lost without them.

Newtown Festival 09

Its been one of those fortnights. You know the sort, your so busy you can hardly catch your breath, and then you look back and can't figure out what the heck it was that was keeping you so busy.

This weekend we had a friends birthday party. For some crazy reason known only to them it was an 80s theme party. I spent a disproportionate amount of time looking up 80s fashion and seeing that I was in charge of bringing the music I also spent a fair amount of time researching the best of 80s music and sourcing it. Anyway more about the party once a friend uploads all of the photos she took.

Then yesterday it was Newtown festival. It took a while to get us motivated to leave the house. Instead of the stinking hot day it normally is on festival day it was raining in that fine misty rain that means that you have no real excuse not to leave the house but still can't be bothered getting wet.

We jumped on a bus, walked around with the 90,000 other people, met up with some friends and chatted for a little bit then walked around a bit more and went home. Some years its all about finding your spot and hanging all day ... this year it was all about having a laugh while you check out the grooviness of where you live and then going home while everyone is still in a good mood :)

The coolest part was that we saw Mr Incredibubbles the worst part was that it seems Mr Incredibubbles is actually not so incredible. Not only did the majority of his bubbles not work but he was so cranky he kept freaking out at the kids crossing the line and ended up saying in a very gruff voice 'thats it I need a break, you all have to get lost'

Not a bad turn out for a drizzly day, lots of great music including Hermitude and The Crooked Fiddle Band who we saw play at last years Global Carnival (they rocked)

As always the festival brings every sort of personality type out of the woodwork. This guy had "Sledgehammer" by Peter Gabriel playing full blast and was dancing on the awning ... as you do.