A Lasting Impact

It's time for Literacy Week in Australia ... when primary schools everywhere celebrate books and reading. Today is the day, at our school, that all the students are invited to dress up as a character from a story book.

Now, the littlest Caveman isn't much of a reader, so I really thought it would be difficult for him to settle on a character. I expected him to choose something from a tv show or movie. There tends to be a lot of that on dress up day, plenty of Darth Vaders and Jack Sparrows on the school oval - but that's okay. They are still characters from stories, even if they didn't start out as books.

I started nudging my boy to think about book characters a couple of weeks ago, knowing that it could take a while to come up with a character that he: A. has heard of and B. is prepared to dress up as.

Then, tragedy struck. One of the brightest lights in world entertainment, Robin Williams, passed away. This news came as a huge shock in our house ... the Caveman and I have always been big fans and had made sure our kids knew who he was too. As more details emerged about his death, I was struck by the fact that someone who had brought so much joy to millions of people around the world should have been so troubled in his own life. The media was flooded with stories about Robin and the lives he'd touched, as well as many really important articles regarding depression. If any good can come of his death, maybe it will be more awareness of just how serious depression can be and the importance of losing the stigma associated with mental health issues.

For us, on a 'fan level', we felt the need to immerse ourselves in his work. We watched Dead Poets Society, Good Morning Vietnam and Flubber in quick succession. It was great, as if watching his movies was keeping him alive for us (and we have plenty more to watch yet).

You might wonder what this has to do with Literacy Week? Well, at some point, Peter Pan popped into my head. I suggested it to my little man and got the horrifying response, "Who's that?"  I was mortified. How could he not know Peter Pan? Admittedly, it had been a while since we'd read the story, or watched the movie, so it was clearly time to remedy the situation. Out came the 1953 Disney movie, which we sat and watched together. A true Classic. This then led us to also watch our copy of Hook. It's not a great movie, there is so much about it that could have been done better ... but I don't think anyone one else could have played a grown-up Peter Pan as well as Robin Williams did.

As it turns out, not surprisingly, my boy chose to dress up as Peter Pan for school today (and I think he's put more of the Hook version into his portrayal than the original).

Meanwhile, as for Robin Williams himself, he will always be around. I won't make any pretense of grieving for him, not in the true sense - nobody could possibly be as affected by his death as his own family and friends. He certainly made an impact on the rest of us though, and I will always enjoy watching his work and genuinely hope that he found his peace in the end.

In All His Glory

NOTE: Not actual husband -->  

"Dad, can't you at least wear underwear to bed? I can't believe poor Mum has to sleep beside you while you're naked! If anyone ever tries to sleep naked next to me, they're OUT of the bed!"

This rather adamant protest came from our 13 year old Cavegirl one morning recently. She had run into her dad in the middle of the night when they were both stumbling half-asleep to the bathroom to answer the call of their bladders. He got there first and when he opened the door to come back out our poor girl, waiting in the hallway, saw more of her dad than she ever wanted to.

Yes, the Caveman usually sleeps naked and, unfortunately, doesn't often bother to throw anything on to make the trip to the bathroom in the middle of the night. He is quite comfortable being in the buff and could happily go about his everyday life that way. Sadly for him (but perhaps luckily for the rest of us), that's not really socially acceptable. I can only imagine what the neighbours would say if he started appearing outside the house with no clothes on.

I must point out here that he does make the effort to sleep in shorts (or at least keep them beside the bed) when we have guests, but he always figured that it didn't really matter when it's just us and the kids in the house. I guess he knows better now!

What I loved about my daughter's outburst was her horror that I am forced to sleep beside her dad when he's naked at night. Admittedly, I usually wear a nightie or pyjamas to bed myself, but it doesn't bother me that my husband is wearing nothing in the same bed. I think I would worry about the state of my marriage if his nudity was a problem for me.

What was even funnier was the Cavegirl's comment about kicking out anyone who ever sleeps naked beside HER ... hmm, that's definitely one to remind her of when she's older!

Finding the Balance

What a shame it's always the poor blog that suffers when we get busy.

I have not had the time (or the inclination, if I'm honest) to write my blog for well over a month. I have the best possible reason though ... the TAFE course I did last year has paid off and I have a job at last! I am now working as a Personal Carer in a local aged care facility and loving it.


The learning curve is pretty steep, especially in the first few weeks, but I'm getting the hang of it and settling in well. I enjoy working with the residents and feeling as though I can help to bring a little extra happiness to their days. Aside from any other benefits of working, it's doing wonders for my own sense of self-worth.

While I was settling into my new job, the Caveman took on some unpaid work experience for a few weeks in a busy office (as part of his preparation to re-enter the workforce). He's home full-time again for now, but it really did make for a busy time for the entire household. I know many people would quite rightly say 'most families have both parents working these days, so what's the big deal?' Well, that's fair, but when you haven't been in that situation and suddenly it's all happening at once, it really can be a big adjustment. It did do our personal pride a lot of good to know that we could do it (and yes, be 'like everyone else').

My working does bring with it some extra issues ... I have started to experience the 'mother guilt' we so often hear about. I feel guilty if I'm not at home to help the kids with homework, or listen while they tell me about their problems. It bothers me that I might miss something important that they need to share with me. I still help out in the littlest Caveman's classroom one day a week when it fits in with my work roster, just because I believe it's so important for him to have me involved.

I also worry sometimes that the housework is slipping or that I'm not going to keep up with all the cleaning/washing/ironing that needs doing between my shifts. I feel even worse if I am actually at home but just too tired from work to do the usual chores.

Of course, the Caveman (and the kids!) are capable of taking care of all that stuff, but you know what we Mums can be like! It takes a while to accept that others can do the jobs we've been mostly responsible for.

On the other side of the coin, I am making sure I take the time to do things that relax me as well. I'm reading novels and catching up on some knitting - a fairly typical Winter activity for me. It keeps me sane, stopping me from feeling overwhelmed by 'busyness', and shows the kids that Me Time is important too.

The family is adapting to the new routine and I'm proud that we are all coping pretty well in general. Most of all though, I'm happy to be (finally!) working in a job I love.

Going Retro

Recently my Cavegirl went to an 80’s themed dance party at a friend’s house. She was so reluctant to start with … “I don’t really know much about 80’s music, I’m not even sure I should go’, ‘I don’t mind the frilly skirt and all the layers, but I’m NOT wearing leg warmers’ and ‘no mum, I don’t want my hair teased up THAT high!’, while frantically pulling at it to bring it down a bit.

I decided at that point that I’d obviously not done my duty as a parent … how could I have missed teaching my kids properly about the incredible awesomeness that was the 80’s? The fabulous fashions, which were a study in bright and crazy colours; leg warmers, mesh crop tops, teased hair and neon accessories. Not that I ever really had those things (I was never in the ‘trendy’ crowd), but I could dream. 

The music was my favourite thing though - I adored Cyndi Lauper, INXS and Wham!, although they were quickly forgotten when the ‘big hair’ bands arrived on the scene. Europe, Poison, Whitesnake, Bon Jovi … in fact, my crush on Jon Bon Jovi continues to this day (who knew the man would age so well?). I have fond memories of sitting on the lounge room floor with my sister, watching Countdown with Ian ‘Molly’ Meldrum (and, wow, I honestly believed all the songs were being performed live!). 

We watched A Country Practice every week, Simon Townsend’s Wonder World in the afternoons, and we witnessed the introduction of Neighbours and Home and Away … as well as the meteoric rise of Kylie Minogue and her contemporaries. The cool guys had mullets and wore puffer jackets, while the girls were all about the perms and shoulder pads.

Hmm … okay, reading through my list, some of those trends from the 80s are definitely pretty daggy and best left in the past. But still, it was a great decade in my eyes and it’s kind of back in fashion now (retro!), so I’m happy. I was actually jealous that my daughter was going to an 80’s theme party instead of me.

As for her party experience, after all that reluctance, she came home singing a Belinda Carlisle song and raving about the great music from the 80’s. The Caveman and I have decided to jump on this bandwagon while we have the chance, so we’ve been serenading the kids with our favourite 80’s music and showing them ‘retro’ YouTube clips for days now.

The novelty will wear off fast, but we’re happy to relive a little bit of our youth while we can!

Nelly

Otherwise known as Nell. Or Nelza. Or Nelly Welly, Nell Bell, Smelly Nelly ... even Nelectrolux (when she was a puppy and literally vacuumed up everything in sight). I am writing about our beautiful black (and grey!) Labrador-mix dog, who we bid a teary farewell to this morning.

Nelly came to us in 2003, when she was six months old. She was a giveaway – unwanted by her previous owner after outgrowing the ‘cute puppy’ stage. I had been thinking about getting a dog for the kids so I took them with me to meet her. We all fell for her immediately; then we just had to convince the Caveman (he’s not so much of a dog lover). He came with us that afternoon to meet her and, as soon as she saw us, she made a beeline for him. It was like she already knew she had me and the kids ‘sold’ on her and it was just him she had to convince. It worked. He melted and we took her home with us then. She already had the name Nelly, so we kept it - it saved us trying to come up with a name we could all agree on.

There were some issues over the years … if she got out of the yard she could follow her nose a very long way. Nelly was a wanderer. I lost count of the times we would come outside in the morning to find she’d broken out and vanished. We could only wait, and sure enough, our intrepid explorer would appear at the top of the driveway a little while later feeling very satisfied with her morning run. She would race back toward us with her ears and tongue flapping in the breeze, the happiest expression on her face, wondering why we were all annoyed with her. She wore an expression that said, ’Hey there family, here I am!’, as if she just expected that she would be loved, no matter what she did. In fact, that was the same expression she greeted us with every morning for most of her life.

 

Like most Labs, she was a vocal dog too. Yes, she barked more than she should have and it was a bad habit we never got under control to the extent that we would have liked. But she was vocal in another way, which was designed to get our attention. She would make a long ‘wrooo-wrooo’ sound, almost like a doggy version of 'hello', at us, or to ask for more pats. It was effective – she usually got her pats and we would ‘wrooo-wrooo’ right back at her.

Nelly adored our kids from day one. She always loved running around with them in the backyard, curling up with them for cuddles, going for walks - usually her walking them more than they walked her. She worried over them if she thought they were doing something she considered dangerous, like swimming. Nelly hated the water, so she never understood why the kids would choose to go into it. She would actually whine and paw at me to get them out again! Of course, she got better about it as she got older, but she still worried. It’s not surprising she started going grey at an early age.

She enjoyed good health for most of her life, despite her habit of chewing absolutely everything when she was younger. We lost shoes, books, toys … even the arm of a lounge chair! Eventually she learned that sticks and dog treats were allowed, but nothing else. We also had to watch her sweet tooth; the kids were taught very early about the importance of not giving Nelly any chocolate or other sugary snacks. She had to be tied up if we were having a birthday party – we learned this lesson when one of the kids had a party where they had to burst a piñata. When the lollies hit the ground Nelly was right in there with all the kids, grabbing her share and swallowing them, wrappers and all! 

When a cancerous growth appeared 5 months ago (a recurrence, where a previous one had been removed a year earlier), we decided to let nature take its course and just love her for the time she had left. In the past few weeks though, we'd been noticing signs of her discomfort, and realised yesterday that it was time for that final trip to the Vet.

She was with us for 11 years, and we would have liked a lot longer, but we know we gave her a happy life for the time we did have. We had no false expectations at the end; saying goodbye was every bit as hard as we expected it to be, with floods of tears from everyone. 

We have lots of happy memories of our beautiful Nelly, but the most precious memory is knowing that she loved us with all she had to give. She may not have been a perfect dog, but she was the best dog for us.

When I Feel Like It.

So. This is me today -------->

Procrastinating.  Putting things off.

It's not like I have nothing to do. I can see the dirty floors, the load of clothes in the laundry hamper, the dirty dishes beside the sink. All waiting to be washed. By me, I'm guessing.

It's not only housework either. I also have a couple of letters to write and some sewing projects to start on, among other things.

The problem is, I have no motivation. No energy. No desire to do any of those jobs today. I just don't feel like it.

It's a beautiful day outside. I could easily curl up with a book and a coffee on the back deck and just relax in the cool breeze. That doesn't get my housework done though. It will still be there, staring at me, when I come back inside.

Sometimes I wish I had the power to stop time ... you know, just for a little while.  Maybe an hour or three, to catch up on some sleep when I need it.  Or occasionally even for a whole day, so that I could focus on getting the house clean with absolutely NO interruptions. But then, with no commitments outside the home today - for once - that's kind of how the day should have run for me anyway.

Except that I just don't feel like it. That's a bummer. Having an entire day with nothing else to do and it coincides with a lazy streak a mile wide, that stops me wanting to achieve anything at all. It's ironic really.

You would think that the idea of having a tidy house (a rare thing for us) would be enough to get me off my backside, but it's not. I guess I could invite a friend over. That was a technique I used to use when I was younger ... knowing someone was coming to see me was a guaranteed way to make sure I got things done around the house. But today? Meh. I don't think it would make any difference.

There should be a support group for this sort of thing - a kind of 'Procrastinators Anonymous'. We could all meet somewhere on a set day every ... oh wait, hang on. That won't work. None of us would turn up.

I'm sure I'll have some enthusiasm for getting things done tomorrow. In the meantime, maybe I should grab that book and make that coffee.  In fact, I will ... just as soon as I feel like it.

The Bald and The Beautiful

On the weekend, my Mother in Law lost all her hair. Not through any type of misadventure or ill health, thank goodness ... she simply had her head shaved.

It was done for a good cause, as part of the Leukaemia Foundation's "World's Greatest Shave" fundraiser.

Willing participants are sponsored to have their hair shaved off or coloured, to raise money for research into blood cancers and their treatments.

We are all very proud of Grandma for raising money for such an important cause - and the new 'hairstyle' is pretty terrific too.  Even the kids think it's great. In fact, the Littlest Caveman, who had been insisting lately that he didn't ever want a haircut again, actually asked me yesterday if he could have his head shaved 'like Grandma's'.

Considering the last trim I gave him was a sneaky one while he was asleep (to save arguments), I didn't need a second invitation! I had the hair clippers in my hand and a cape around his neck before he had a chance to change his mind and now his hair matches his big brother's short style. Okay, it's not quite as short as his Grandma's, but he's happy with it.

He even told me this morning, when I complained about the heat, that I should shave my head as well ... 'It's a lot cooler, Mum.'  He then pointed out that, aside from myself and the Cavegirl, most of the family has really short hair now - himself, his Grandma, his brother and father.  I frowned at that comment.  'Your Dad hasn't had his head shaved recently.'

'No,' he answered, in the knowledgeable tone of a six-year-old, 'but Dad had that bunch of hair on top that's never come back.'

My poor Caveman ... if he didn't already feel self conscious about his bald patch, that comment would definitely have done it.