Fumbling in the Dark

I love wearing glasses. Well, not really, but I love being able to see. Those of us who need to wear glasses tend to have a great appreciation of the value of sight. 

I woke up at 4 am today. That's early, even for me. I am a morning person; it's not unusual for me to be awake anytime from 5.30 am and enjoy watching the sunrise - although I can sleep until after 7 and be perfectly happy with that too!

Some mornings I just wake early and can't get back to sleep. I could blame it on work. If I'm doing a morning shift, I set the alarm for just after 5 am. The problem with that theory is that I don't actually do enough morning shifts to form a habit of waking then.

Maybe it's my bladder? As I get older, a quick trip to the toilet in the early hours is becoming a more regular thing. I normally drop back off to sleep afterwards though.

Anyway, I couldn't get back to sleep this morning. Just after 5, I decided to give up trying and just get up. No worries, I can do that quietly. My Caveman is definitely NOT a morning person, so it would be rude to wake him before his alarm goes off. He has started getting extra hours at work, and his Chronic Fatigue/Fibromyalgia is flaring up, so he's been in a state of constant exhaustion lately. The more sleep he has, the better. Also, today is a Saturday and the end of the cricket season. His team has made the final, so he will be playing this weekend and next ... it's going to be a big week all round for him. 

So, I roll over to pick up my glasses off the bedside table. I fumble in the dark and bump my mobile phone instead. The phone bumps into the glasses and knocks them off, onto the carpet. Crap. I lean over the edge of the bed and feel around on the floor ... can't feel them anywhere. I've dragged the sheet over with me and the Caveman is starting to stir. I unwrap myself from the sheet and keep feeling around on the floor. Bugger, it would be easier to find them if I had my glasses on. Why aren't they there? I'm starting to get slightly frantic now - I heard them drop and my eyes have adjusted to the dark enough so that I can see they're definitely not still on the bedside table. Maybe they're in my shoes, partly tucked under the edge of the bed? No, not there either. Maybe they dropped into the bag on the other side of the table - it's a gift bag with assorted items thrown in it from the last time I tidied the bedroom (you know, all the stuff that you intend to sort through later, but never actually get to).

I decide I'm going to have to get out of the bed to keep looking. Let me tell you, when you need to wear glasses all the time, there is nothing more scary than the idea that you might accidentally stand on them in the dark - I only have the one pair (despite all the great offers from Specsavers) and the world really is a blur without them.

So, having determined that my glasses are not on the area of carpet I intend to place my body on, I climb carefully out of bed and kneel on the floor to continue looking. I go for the gift bag, but I can't actually pull it out; it rustles as soon as I touch it and the Caveman stirs again. I can see the glasses are not sitting in the top of the bag, which makes sense - I heard them hit the carpet (I know the sound, I've done this before). I pick up the clothes I dropped on the floor when I changed for bed last night; nothing there either. I'm completely stumped, until I spot a blurry shape in an unexpected spot; could that be them? I lean forward to check ... there they are! On the carpet (see, I knew it!), between the bed and the bedside table. I'm sure I'd checked there already, but maybe not very thoroughly. I really didn't think they'd fallen off that side of the table. It was my ears, not my eyes, that had failed me this time.

I put my glasses on, stand up, grab my phone and exit the room silently, Caveman still snoring. Thank goodness.

Conclusion? Not only is my sight useless without glasses, I may also need to get my hearing checked again soon 😉

Memory Lane

A belated Merry Christmas and a very happy new year to all!

It didn't seem like the happiest Christmas period for the world at large. We lost more celebrities - I know we'll lose more every year and it's not like I actually knew any of them, but some of them made a big impact. I was quite the George Michael fan once upon a time. And Carrie Fisher? Come on, that's a big deal to a Star Wars mad family!

Personally though, we had a lovely Christmas. I had the day off, which meant we could do the big family get-together, with some of my family driving up from Brisbane to join us at our house. We had a beautiful day - and it rained! It was actually a very cool day, almost like the 'real' Christmas you see on the postcards from far above the equator.

My Mum and sister stayed on for a few days afterwards and we girls treated ourselves ... we went for a nostalgic drive out to a little town we used to live in, called Kilkivan. The only person missing was my brother, who had other commitments and couldn't join us.

My memories of living in Kilkivan (pronounced with the emphasis on the middle syllable: Kill-KEE-ven) could fill a book. We moved there from Brisbane when I was about 11 years old; my mum and stepfather, me and my younger sister and brother.

Talk about a culture shock! There we were, stuck in this tiny little hick town with no big shop, or cinema, or ice cream truck, or anything else city kids expect to have. In fact, one of the first places we lived in while there was a rented house on a farm outside town. No close neighbours (apart from the farmer and his wife) and we had to catch a bus to school. But we adapted and I think we loved it! (Admittedly, I'm not sure if I'm just remembering it fondly ... we may have complained bitterly at the time.)

We kids were allowed to be as involved with the farm as we wanted to be and it was the best adventure. Feeding animals, collecting eggs, moving hay bales, rides on the tractor.

We moved around a bit in those first couple of years: after that farm there was another house on a large property, then another. Then Mum's marriage broke up, and we moved into town, as she didn't drive. The four of us became a really close unit; really, each other's best friends. We were in town for about another 4 or 5 years, I think? Again, moving from house to house, but each one holds special memories for us.

Not every memory from Kilkivan was great, there were plenty of downs along the way. Sometimes I remember the awful bullying I used to get from the other kids in my class at school. Mostly though, I am transported back to the feelings I had about living in the area. It's not just about the school ... and, in reality, we loved living in that little town. Unlike the situation for kids today, when I went home from school the bullying didn't follow me (no social media!), and I learned to 'switch off' to a certain extent.

I made the most of my time away from school; I would read, or write fiction, or do stuff with my sister and brother - we would walk around town, go down to the creek, explore bushwalking trails. We could go anywhere. I think the fact that we had to entertain ourselves helped me to deal with the bullying, or whatever was bothering me at any given time. I had to develop my imagination. What else can you do in a small town?

Eventually we all left Kilkivan to live in bigger places, but going back there again was a real treat - it was a great way to end 2016. I hope we get to do it again sometime and spend a full day.

May you all have a very happy 2017 ... I hope you make the effort this year to revisit a place you loved while growing up.

N.B. This post has been heavily edited, so it's not boring. Really, I could have gone on about my memories for MUCH longer!

A Different Graduation

The school year has ended, for Seniors. All those bright-eyed, bushy-tailed 17 year olds, ready to get out there and take on the world.

My Facebook newsfeed has been filled with photos of teenagers my son went to school with, all done up in their finery to celebrate graduation and the 'formal' (end of year dance) for their respective schools.

I'll admit to having a couple of wistful moments, seeing them all ... I'd have loved to have been there with all the other parents, celebrating our children's achievements together.

My son didn't have a formal to attend. Nor did he have a graduation ceremony. In fact, he'll be attending his school well into December, with only a couple of weeks off for the Christmas break. This is one of those times I'm sure he regrets leaving the State School system early. The independent school, or 'flexible learning centre', that he attends has been a lifesaver for him in so many ways, but it also means he misses out on some of these major events that mark significant stages in other teenagers' lives.

I left school early myself, so I understand all too well the emotions that go along with that. The absolute conviction that you can't cope with staying longer just so you can earn a lousy certificate or wear a pretty dress at the end of year dance (well, I'm speaking for myself regarding the pretty dress. I'm sure he doesn't mind not wearing one!). I also understand that it really sucks to see everyone else achieve those things later on and, only then, realise that you might have liked to be a part of it after all.

Of course, his best friend also passed away a little over 12 months ago. With all the worry before her death, and the grief afterwards, my son didn't do the usual things then that a 16 year old would do either. Grief affects everyone differently, and my sweet, sensitive boy kind of dropped off the radar for awhile there. He avoided anything he felt would just add more pressure.

One of the things he didn't bother doing was going for his Learner's driving permit.

So, what did he do this week (aged 17) while all his friends were graduating and preparing for formals? He went to our local Department of Transport service centre and sat the written test. Passed with 100% accuracy on his first attempt!

I know it seems like an almost insignificant rite of passage for teenagers these days, but for him it was a big deal. The timing was perfect; he went from feeling a bit 'left out' to having something of his own to celebrate. He is a mature, sensible, level-headed young man, who is doing what he wants to do, when he wants to do it - and, just quietly, the pride his Dad and I feel right now is no different to what we'd feel if he had graduated with his mates.

Now we just have to be brave enough to sit beside him while he drives!

Rumours

We were told this morning that our teenage daughter is doing ice. No, not the frozen water cubes you might put in a drink .... ice, the drug.

Sounds scary, right? Thankfully, it's not true.

She told us about this latest rumour herself, after it was announced to her in a Facebook conversation - by someone who had heard from someone else that it was true. It was as much of a shock to her as it was to us and, while we can laugh about it, it actually raised a serious subject.

Rumours. Aren't they joyous things? Both of my teens have, like most at some stage, been the subject of gossip. If everything is to be believed, my son spent much of the past year experimenting with various drugs and hanging out with dealers. My daughter has slept with HEAPS of boys at school (starting in Year 8) and has been pregnant at least three times (and now using ice as well ... goodness, she has been a busy girl!).

I'm not saying my kids are perfect. Again, like most teens, they've bent the rules occasionally. It bothers me though when they get accused of so much that they haven't done - and that people tend to believe what they hear. Of course, these rumours would come as a shock to a lot of people who really know my kids. The gossip is generally spread by a small group of (mostly) high school students who just happen to be getting on my nerves right now.

Our family is lucky. We talk - a lot! - and we laugh too. There are very few secrets in our house, which makes it easy to have the conversations parents and their children should have about bullying and rumours (as well as sex, drugs and all the other stuff too).

It's easy enough to give children a loving, supportive home environment, but the tricky part for any parent is figuring out how to help them work through the crap they can get from other people. Like the rubbish that gets spread around by other kids. This is the stuff that leads to depression, anxiety and even suicide. What's really sad is that those other children (and that's what they are, despite how big and impressive they think they're being), really wouldn't even care if my child, or anyone else's, did commit suicide. They'd see it as that person being weak.

(Because being a bullying little shit makes you the better person? I don't think so.)

Maybe they'll regret spreading rumours or being bullies when they're older, and I admire those who can admit it and apologise ... but by then it's hard to repair the damage already done.

My teens are doing okay. They've both had hurdles to overcome and they've done so admirably. They've discovered their strengths and can now laugh off most of the rumours they hear about themselves. That doesn't mean it's been easy for them - rumours and bullying (and the effect they have) are a large part of why they both no longer attend the local high school they were at before. They've been fortunate though. Lots of kids cop this sort of thing and not all of them make it through. Not all kids come from stable, secure homes. Some of them are hanging on by a thread before they get to school in the morning and it might just take one comment to tip them over the edge.

What surprises me the most, especially when I look through the Facebook pages of those who have spread rumours about my kids, is that it seems like they should know better. They are going through the same stuff. These are young people who share meaningful quotes about anxiety, depression and suicide. Most of them are desperately searching for approval, understanding and acceptance themselves ... yet they don't have it for their peers. Why do so many teens think that they can build themselves up by climbing over others? Why aren't they interested in supporting each other and creating friendships?

This is not a whinge about 'young people of today'. Most young people I know are really lovely and don't deserve the bad rap they can get from older people who have forgotten what it's like to be a teenager. I just wonder what example we're setting as parents (and grandparents) when our young people aren't tolerant of each other.

I can't be the only parent who says, 'Hang on, maybe there is something going on with that person that you don't know about ... don't be too quick to judge,' or, 'Are you sure you've got the whole story about that person, or is it something that's been made up about them?' Don't we all ask our kids to question the truth of what they hear? Isn't that part of our job as their parents?

I have occasionally walked past other adults who have scowled at my children, so it seems a lot of parents tend to believe what they hear about other people's kids too. Gossip is easy to listen to. I wonder what stories will do the rounds next week?

Here's a deal for everyone: how about you don't believe everything you hear about my kids ... and I won't believe everything I hear about yours ;-)

6 Months Later

Well, hello there :-) It's been a while ... I haven't published a blog entry since March!

Clearly, I gave 'The Blog' a break. I didn't actually plan it though, life just got busy. Yes, we say that all the time (doesn't everyone?). We all feel like we've got so much going on, it's easy to let the little 'extra' things we do fall by the wayside.

The truth is, my blog became a bit of a chore .... just another job I had to remember to do.

I intended originally for it to simply be a mostly humorous chronicle of our daily lives, something I could look back on later and have a bit of a giggle at.

Of course, life isn't always full of laughs; sometimes it's hard to find funny things to share with the world. Honestly, the most hilarious moments tend to be just that - moments. It's not always easy to stretch one amusing comment or situation into an entire blog post. I guess that's why people use Twitter. It's easier to throw a witty one-liner out into the world and move on.

I also wanted blogging to be a bit of a stepping stone to writing bigger things, like that novel I've always planned on (but, surprise surprise, I never seem to have time for that either!).

For the record, everything has actually been sailing along reasonably smoothly. As a family, and individually, we've come through some challenges during the past year or so that have brought us closer together.

We now have two children who have left conventional schooling - our eldest is still attending an independent 'flexible learning' centre and our second is now studying from home with the School of Distance Education. The entire mood in the house has changed! The arguments about school in the mornings are non-existent. My teenagers impress me every day with their maturity - both have come through difficult times, dealing with depression, grief and anxiety at different stages. However, they are now both focused on their school work and are keen to find jobs and get started on the rest of their lives.

Our 'littlest Caveman' is growing quickly too. My 'baby' is disappearing before my eyes. I really need to call him something else for the blog. He's not so little anymore; in just a couple of years, he'll be preparing for high school himself - more scary times ahead!

Today is my birthday, and this morning I woke up feeling pretty good. I'm 43 now (although I told the kids I'd rather the two digits were the other way around on my birthday cake!). Life has settled down somewhat .. The Caveman and I are well settled into our jobs, the kids have their emotional and school situations sorted out (for the time being, at least!) and everything is sailing along relatively smoothly.

Let's hope it stays that way, and maybe I'll try to get a start on that novel after all ;-)

Expressions of Love

Easter holidays - wow, didn't that come around fast!

Happy Easter to everyone out there who celebrates it (or just uses it as an excuse for eating chocolate ... hey, I'm not here to judge!).

This past week has been a memorable one for us, with a wedding AND a funeral to attend ... and they were both as beautiful and touching as they possibly could have been.

The wedding we attended was a surprise - for the bride! She is a member of my family, and I couldn't have been more thrilled for her. What made it even better is that she has always been a bit of a prankster, playing practical jokes and springing surprises on other people. She believed the wedding would be very small and private; just her, the groom and a handful of other people, in her adult daughter's back yard ... but in reality a larger wedding had been organised behind her back.

There were actually over 70 guests, including some family members she hadn't seen for a few years. She was blindfolded (I believe there was an excuse made about not wanting her to see the decorations until she was in position to walk down the aisle) and somehow, amazingly, we were all silent as she was led in. Imagine when the blindfold was removed - her reaction made all the secrecy worthwhile! I have never seen a happier bride, and I'm sure the tears flowed freely from everyone who was there.

Of course, the rest of the ceremony was beautiful and emotional too. She has been with the groom for over a decade; he has helped to raise her children into the lovely young adults they are. He said years ago that he would marry her, but I'm sure she'd just about given up hope of it ever actually happening! So, for him to go to this effort to make it so special for her just made the whole event even more incredible. We were very excited to be there for their big day.

Going from a happy occasion to a not-so-happy one, we attended the funeral yesterday of a dear friend who passed away after a very long battle with cancer. This amazing lady was actually the mother of my husband's best friend ... someone he grew up living next door to, a truly beautiful woman who embodied the term 'Earth Mother'. She was the kind of woman who could make anything grow and thrive - plants, animals, family and friends included. She was a chatterbox, with a constant smile, who loved to keep up with all her neighbours and nurture everyone around her. We used to see her regularly when our children were younger, as she would ride her horses around the neighbourhood and always stop for a chat if we were in the front yard.

I'm sure she never said a bad word about anyone and no one seems to have ever had a bad word to say about her. She really was loved by all. She cherished her husband, children and grandchildren, and they all adored her in return. There were many tears, but her funeral was a beautiful tribute to her life and the get-together afterwards was a true celebration of everything about her, with her family supplying plentiful food, plants, hugs, laughter and printed booklets of her favourite recipes as keepsakes. We will always treasure her memory and be grateful that we were lucky enough to have known her.

When I think about it, both events this week were all about love. The happiness of a wedding is obvious, there is so much joy in celebrating love and declaring it for the world. But there is also so much love on display when someone passes away and we celebrate the person they were and acknowledge the deep sense of loss for their family - which is only so heartbreaking because of the love they feel.

Easter seems like as good a time as any to reflect on life, love and death, and to be grateful for what we have. Have a happy one and eat as much chocolate as you like x

Red as a Tomato

Our youngest child, our 8 year old son, has been in the wars recently.

Earlier this month, he had an entire week off school because of a particularly bad sunburn. It was embarrassing, for me more than him ... one of those 'I'm such a bad mother' moments.

He'd been playing outside and had ignored my reminder about putting on sunscreen. He was out in the sunshine for much longer than I'd realised, in a concrete area - reflective surfaces! - and had taken his shirt off. When I noticed he was still outside, I called him in and noticed his back was pink. 'Oh no, mate,' I said, 'You look like you might be a bit sunburnt.'

A bit? Try a lot! My boy is very pale, so if he gets a sunburn it's quite obvious. It tends to start off pink and the colour darkens over time. By an hour or so after coming into the house, he was red! It was obvious he'd been quite badly burned - and not just his back, but his arms and chest as well. He had a cool shower and we applied the Aloe Vera After Sun gel we always keep in the fridge but, by that evening, it was obvious that this was worse than the average sunburn. To add to his humiliation, his big brother decided that 'Tomato' would be a great nickname for him.

Over the next few days, we tried everything to soothe his discomfort - all the sunburn remedies you can think of. Tea bags, Aloe Vera gel, Burn Aid gel, apple cider vinegar, a ginger compress, tomato slices, papaw ointment, coconut oil, lavender oil. At night, he slept on the lounge with the softest sheet we could find, with two pedestal fans blowing cool air around him. He didn't wear a shirt the entire time, and he walked like C3PO, holding his arms out from his body because it hurt all over. After about three days, blisters appeared. My poor little boy; he was in so much pain and I couldn't even comfort him with a cuddle ... touch was out of the question.

In the end, the only thing that really helped was Soov, an after-sun treatment that I bought at the chemist for $10. It's a spray, so I didn't actually have to touch him, much to his relief! After a week of being confined to the house, not being able to wear a shirt, and putting up with being called Tomato by his siblings, his skin had finally calmed down enough for him to get back to normal.

The funny part came yesterday, two weeks after the sunburn settled down. Our older son, who also knows better, spent the day at the beach with friends and came home ... you guessed it ... sunburnt.

I asked my younger boy if he could think of a nickname for his big brother. His face lit up with joy (or revenge?) and he announced, 'Tomato number two!'