Not So Little Now

My Littlest Caveman - my 'baby' - turned 10 yesterday. That's all three of my kids into double figures. We certainly don't feel young anymore!

It feels like we have truly left the 'little kid' stuff behind us now. They are all capable of making their own breakfasts and lunches. They can operate the television, the phone and the computer without any help. They all help with chores around the house, although it sometimes take a bit of shouting encouragement from us.

We waited about 5 years after our Cavegirl was born, before deciding to have a third baby (I had a nasty bout of post-natal depression to deal with first).  That age gap has had its pros and cons. Sometimes I've wished he was closer in age to his siblings. To start with, the Caveman and I discovered (being just that little bit older when he came along) that having a small child was even more exhausting than we'd remembered!

But also, he has been a little left behind at times, like when the older two reached their teens and lost a bit of interest in his games and toys. That can also be seen now, with them being almost adults. They are into some music and movies that are still inappropriate for his age group. Not that it does them any harm to be mindful of what they watch, listen to or talk about when he's around. I am kind of grateful too, that we don't have any more than two teenagers to deal with at once!

For the most part, the pros do outweigh the cons. He has never (contrary to what so many people were concerned about when we had him) felt like an 'only' child. His big brother and sister have always included him as much as possible. If anything, I feel that having a younger sibling has helped them hang onto their own childhood a little longer, as well as making them more considerate towards other young children. They haven't 'dragged him up' to being older than his age either, if that makes sense. In fact, being the youngest, he's probably been allowed (encouraged even!) to stay little for as long as possible.

The three of them are surprisingly close. Of course, with a nearly 8 year age gap to his older brother, they don't really sit and talk about cars or girls - but they do talk about school and friendships, and play backyard cricket and Xbox games together. He's not about to give advice to his teenage sister about emotional issues either, but when she went through a recent rough patch, he understood enough to hug her when she needed it and cheer her up with his antics.

He really is funny too; we've always referred to him as our little entertainer, although he's quite shy in front of other people.

So, there's no more rocking him to sleep, or holding his grubby little hand to cross the road (although sometimes he still grabs my hand if we're in busy places, and I cherish that!). He does occasionally climb onto my lap for a cuddle (much like a Great Dane would - it's all arms, legs and knees up in my face, but it works).

He's growing up ... and I can live with that x

My Everything Hurts

It's steeper than it looks!

About a week ago, I went for a walk. It was the first decent walk I'd done for a while - I don't generally walk everyday like I should, although I have done in the past. Regular exercise just doesn't seem to be at the top of my list of priorities anymore.

I walked because my son's friend had spent the day at our house and it was time to take him home. It's not far from our own house, so walking the distance should be a regular thing, but I often do the drop off and pick up when I'm driving out or coming home from somewhere else. It might sound lazy, but it's also efficient. Besides, the road we live on is a steep one to walk. The other boy's mother and I both prefer the drive-by style.

Anyway, this particular day, I chose to get off my backside and walk. Heading down the hill, I was feeling so great, I decided to jog for a bit.

(This is a big deal in itself; my kids will tell anyone who'll listen that 'Mum doesn't run!') 

I felt fabulous - wind in my hair, my body moving like a well-oiled machine. Well, probably not, but it felt like it! Our road goes quite steeply downhill, over a bridge, into a dip, then uphill again to where my son's friend lives. I jogged most of the way down to the dip, then walked the rest. They met me partway up the other side, so my son and I turned to go home. It was a beautiful walk with my boy ... we meandered along, stopping to look at wildlife and check out the little creek on the way. 

When we got home, I was more puffed than I would expect to be. Okay, I'm not a huge fan of exercise, but I can do a fair walk without straining myself. I went for a climb up a small mountain a couple of weeks ago with the kids, no trouble at all. So, it took me a while to figure out what had worn me out. Until later that night, when my shins and calves started giving me heaps of pain. Aha, it was the jogging downhill! It's easy to forget just how much of an impact that can have on your body - I had jarred everything and the after effects were NOT pleasant.

It's too easy to think you're doing enough at work to keep fit, especially with a physical job like mine. It's the same with housework, actually. How often do you hear people say, 'Oh, I do enough with my housekeeping to keep me active.'? Yeah, I'm sorry, but that is nowhere near the same as a regular workout - and you know it when you actually have to do a decent walk (or jog!).

So, I've accepted that I'm really not as fit as I used to be and it's time I did something about it. No, I'm not going to become one of those gym junkies who posts selfies in my leotard on Facebook every week (no one needs to see that!). But, for the past week, I have been stretching every morning and trying to do a daily walk. Even if it's only a short one. 

I might be a while before I jog back down that hill though.

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 ;-)