What were they thinking?

Ah, cricket. What a great game.

I do mean that seriously, even though a little sarcasm might not seem out of place right now. The game of cricket is usually played with respect and honour, by national and local teams. I know a lot of people will claim that ball tampering happens everywhere to some extent, but it's really not a common thing for most players to do.

I don't need to say a lot on the fiasco involving the Australian team in South Africa last week. It's all playing out in the media - and probably will continue to for a number of weeks yet. Needless to say, it will have an impact on players at every level of cricket. My own husband and son, who both play in our local competition, were horrified by the whole thing; absolutely gutted that the heroes they look up to would stoop to that level to try to get ahead in a match.

For me personally, it has been fascinating to watch. I'm actually not a huge fan of Steve Smith or David Warner, and never have been. No particular reason, I've just never really taken to either of them. I would never have imagined a scenario like this though. I do find myself feeling a little sorry for them, as well as Cameron Bancroft and Darren Lehmann, as the saga continues to unfold. I think the punishments handed out so far are fair - even though I know there are other teams around the world who have broken the rules in a similar way and been punished to a lesser extent. As far as I'm concerned, the penalties for such actions SHOULD be harsh, and if Australia sets a new standard here then maybe it will be a good thing for the sport in the long run. 

On another note, as a Mum, I couldn't help but wonder how the players' parents felt when the news first broke. I imagine there would be a mixture of horror at what they've done, combined with a burning desire to protect them from the world and make sure they get through this scandal with their mental health intact. I also believe their families should be left out of the entire thing by the media and by the general public ... complete strangers attacking players' wives online over a choice their husbands made is a really low act.

There has been a flood of new memes on social media, thanks to all this drama. Many of them are quite hilarious, although I'm guessing it will be a long time before any of the players involved can see the funny side. It seems harsh right now that we're being laughed at by the rest of the world, but we're quick enough to dish it out when it's someone else who has stuffed up. We really have no right to complain. It's so Australian, to make fun of ourselves and each other.

I'm sure Australian cricket will be tainted for some time and we'll have to fight our way back but, as the saying goes, this too shall pass.

Community Minded

It's been another long break from the blog for me, I'm afraid. Oops.

We've had so much going on. There have been times whole weeks have gone by in the blink of an eye. I have people to see, places to go, things to do ... but not much else is getting done outside of work, the school run and cleaning the house at the moment.

I was feeling a bit lost towards the end of last year and, while I know my Mum's death had a lot to do with that, a large part of it was also dissatisfaction in my job. For a year now, I've been working in an aged care facility and also doing Community Care. For two or three shifts a fortnight I would work in the facility, but my other shifts were spent visiting people in their homes.

Working in Community is very different to working in a facility and constantly switching between the two can really keep you on your toes. The pace in an aged care facility, with over 60 residents, is quite fast. There are a lot of people to shower, toilet, dress, move into the dining room and back again, organise for activities, etc, etc. The upside is that it is structured; the routine is similar every day and you get to work as part of a team. It's often a fun, supportive environment to work in. The downside is that it's very busy. Doing some paperwork in the office can sometimes seem like a reprieve, rather than a chore ... at least you get to sit down for a few minutes!

Community Care can feel a bit rushed too, but it's more in making sure you get to each person's house on time and fit the tasks required in the time allowed, plus there's paperwork to do in the car in between clients. We're pretty much out there on our own - the mobile phone is our only contact with other staff. The days can be long and there is a lot of driving, which I don't mind really, although I do worry about the wear and tear on my car (using a fleet car is a rare treat). A fair bit of the work is house cleaning, or taking people shopping. I don't much enjoy housework, but what I do like about Community is the variety in tasks and that there is generally more one-on-one time spent with each client. 

Keeping up with what felt like two different jobs meant that I was starting to run down physically and emotionally. I was ready for a change and restless enough to wonder if I should even look at a different industry. Luckily for me, those of us who have been working in both roles were recently given the option of choosing one. The timing couldn't have been better. After some deliberation, I chose Community Care. It came as a surprise to some of the other staff - many of those who started in facility like me have decided that's what they'd prefer to stick to. Working in Community suits me though and I'm back to loving my job again.

The other advantage of Community for me is that the hours are a little more flexible. We currently have the Caveman studying to further his career opportunities, but his course is in another town, an hour away. With him leaving early in the morning to get there on time, I have to be at home to do the school run with the kids (which he used to do). The school run now incorporates getting our youngest to his school and the older two to our local TAFE, which is on the other side of town, so it's great that I've been able to arrange to start work a little later for the time being. The afternoon pickup isn't really an issue; the Caveman is usually home by that time.

Life has been hectic recently, to say the least. On my days off though, I'm finally sorting the house out. 20+ years and three kids adds up to a lot of clutter! But that may be a whole other blog post...

Emmy

Our beautiful cat, who we've had to say goodbye to in the most unfortunate circumstances. She was 15 years old, and starting to struggle with the ailments of ageing - arthritis had set in, fur was thinning and eating was difficult, due to teeth having worn away. She was losing weight, and looking old. We managed to keep some condition on her with a switch to soft foods, and she was very spoiled by us all ... but we did wonder how long we could expect her to be around. I figured one day we would find her curled up under a bush somewhere, having gone peacefully in her sleep. Or, if her health got much worse, maybe we'd have to make the dreaded vet visit to end her suffering.

As it turned out, a traumatic event brought the decision around sooner than we expected. Emmy had a habit of sleeping in the driveway, and generally wasn't inclined to move out of the way in a hurry. Even if she wasn't already in the driveway, she'd often make a mad dash across it in the nick of time. We would shake our heads and say, "One day, one of us is going to run over that silly cat."

Well, it ended up being me. I had checked the driveway and made sure she wasn't there, so maybe she attempted one of her dashes. I certainly wasn't reversing quickly, but I caught her with the back wheel. She took off, clearly in agony, but thankfully not too far away. While she lay in the grass, licking her wounds, I ran into the house and grabbed a box to put her in. We got to the vet and they took her straight out the back to sedate her and reduce the pain. The diagnosis was that she had a badly broken pelvis. Not an easy fix, considering her age and condition. After discussion with all family members, the agreement was reached that it would be kinder to put Emmy to sleep. There were tears all round ... it's not the way anyone wants to lose an animal, especially not one that has been such a big part of the family.

15 years ago we lived in the house across the road. The family in our current house had a cat who gave birth to a litter of kittens and they managed to find homes for all of them, except this little one with the strange face markings. We were busy with toddlers and renovating, and already had two cats, so we weren't keen for another, but we took her in. Her striking orange and black colours reminded me of "embers" in a fire, so we called her Emmy. In the time we've had her, we've lost the other two cats, as well as gained and lost two dogs. She broke her foot when she was three years old (to this day we don't know what happened, she just came home with it like that one day). We spent nearly $400 getting it fixed, and she was worth every penny. We nearly lost her to a paralysis tick when she was young too. She moved house with us three times and was particularly happy to get back to this neighbourhood. We had to watch her when we first moved in, because she wanted to go across the road all the time. I don't think she had much memory of this house, but she did remember the one where she spent the first half of her life with us.

Being only 18 months younger than our daughter, she really did grow up with our kids. She put up with all the rough treatment they dished out when they were little and clumsy, then she'd sleep with them at night. She didn't really like being picked up for cuddles (although she tolerated it), but she'd pick a lap to sit on in front of the telly when she wanted to be close. We got another kitten last year and Emmy looked at us as if it were just typical of us to inconvenience her like this. If a cat could raise her eyebrows and sigh at her humans, she'd have done it. They got used to each other though, and young Panda is now wondering where her old friend has gone.

It seems fitting that we have been able to bury Emmy here at the house she was born in. She is in one of her favourite spots, where we can plant a garden over her and make it really special.

Just as she was.

Seeing the Signs

My son, now 18, once asked me how you know if something is a 'sign' from a loved one who has passed.

It wasn't long after his best friend had died and, naturally, he was hoping for some indication that she was still around him. There had been some things that seemed obvious. We visited her parents shortly after her death and, when we were driving out at the end of the visit, a small blue butterfly hovered by his open car window all the way down the long driveway to her front gate. He looked at me afterwards, in awe, and said, "Mum, that was her." He had no doubt, and neither did I.

As the weeks passed, and he was probably looking for more signs, he asked the question above. How do you know? He'd seen the odd feather, or heard a song, or had a 'feeling', but nothing as clear as the butterfly in the driveway. Maybe he needed some reassurance that she was still around and that it wasn't just his imagination. Now, I'm no expert on these things ... like most parents, I'm left fumbling for the right answer when the kids ask questions like this.

In the end, I told him that if you think something may be a sign, then you should assume that it is. Can you imagine being a person in spirit, trying to leave signs for your loved ones, only to have them dismiss everything as "imagination"? I'm guessing that would be really frustrating. Of course, I'm also assuming that spirits are real, and that they get frustrated. Maybe they don't. Maybe they don't hang around at all ... but I believe they do. I've had visits from loved ones in dreams, in familiar smells, and even in wildlife, often at the times I've needed the most comfort - and always when I least expected it.

Maybe that's the trick. Don't go looking for signs, but accept them when you realise they may be there. I was watering my garden a couple of weeks ago, less than a week after losing my Mum, when a dragonfly landed on a plant near where I was watering. A very plain, brown dragonfly. Nothing really special about it, except for the fact that it wasn't in an area I'd normally see them. It sat there for ages, and after a minute or two I found myself wondering if it might be a visit from Mum. She knows dragonflies are a favourite of mine. I have no idea though ... I'm now in the position my son was in a couple of years ago, wondering what to believe and how much I can trust my intuition.

I seem to be coping with Mum's death better than I expected to. I'm back at work and life is getting back to normal. I keep expecting to fall apart, and I do have a weep occasionally, but I recover quickly. I have no trouble talking about Mum, or her death. Sometimes I almost feel a bit detached, but not like I'm in denial - if that makes sense. My sister has actually commented that she's the same. I think we did most of our grieving before Mum died - she was just so vibrant and seemed like she could live until she was ninety, the shock of learning we were going to lose her was maybe bigger than the reality of her actual passing. I keep saying it was down to Mum's attitude. Once she was able to be so accepting of her fate, we found the strength to accept it too.

Of course, it's possible a wave of grief will suddenly hit me when I least expect it and I'll break down in a blubbering mess at some completely inappropriate time. I guess I'll find out. In the meantime, we talk about her openly, we laugh about the things she would have found funny, and we'll accept any potential signs that may come our way ... because I'm sure she'll be around us for a long time to come.

My Mum

I've had a break from my blog for a couple of months, to focus on other, more important matters. Now I'm back to write, from a place of great admiration, about someone I will adore for the rest of my life:

My dear Mum ... who passed away last week after a short battle with cancer.

It was discovered in July and she was told, almost immediately, that it was at Stage 4 and in an inoperable position. She was scared, but determined. If there was any possibility of buying more time, she was going to give it a go. The doctors believed that radiotherapy might shrink it enough to give her a couple more years, so she agreed to try that.

She also wasn't afraid to try alternative treatments ... there were herbal remedies; teas and oils, as well as dietary changes. She made it known at the hospital that she was more than happy to take part in any clinical trials that were available. Normally Mum would quake at the thought of medical procedures and she was also mildly claustrophobic, so going into those big scanning machines terrified her - but she did it. She surprised us, but then, she always has. Witnessing her bravery and strength was a humbling experience.

Unfortunately, nothing worked. The downhill run was steady and she had to make the transition from "I'm going to fight this with everything I've got," to finding a level of acceptance. She did it though, with good grace and a big dose of practicality. Even before she accepted that nothing would work, she started getting things in order - just because it was worth being prepared for the future anyway. She assured us there was no 'bucket list' and that if it was her time to go, then she would be okay with it. Her life hadn't been perfect, but there had been much happiness along the way and she didn't have anything left she was desperate to achieve.

Mum enjoyed studying star signs and she was a typical Gemini; expressive, social and adaptable. All her life, she adjusted to whatever situation she was in with very little complaint (and she found herself in some pretty tough circumstances at times). When she was younger she was quite shy, although there was a feisty streak when it came to protecting others. As she grew older she got in touch with her gregarious, outgoing side and made friends wherever she went. When we were ringing people to inform them of her passing, it felt like we were dealing with a fan club. I don't think she knew just how many people genuinely loved her and would be affected by her death. Her entire neighbourhood seemed to know who she was. She breezed into their lives, their homes, or their shops, with her loud distinctive voice and people were always happy to see her. She had a genuine interest in learning about others and could talk to anyone, anytime, for hours on end. She gossiped and flirted with everyone and her sense of humour was legendary; if there was potential for innuendo, or inappropriate comments, Mum took advantage of it.

Her whole attitude was youthful, she walked with a spring in her step and she would pull up her friends if they were going on about 'young people today'. She thought young people were great and deserved a lot more credit than they get. The suburb she lived in was multicultural, and she loved that about it. She had good relationships with all her neighbours - Asian, African, Islander, Aboriginal, Muslim and Christian alike - and very little patience with anyone who didn't bother getting to know people themselves before judging an entire culture.

Nothing meant more to Mum than her children (and grandchildren). She hadn't had much of a home life when she was growing up, so she worked to make up for that when she had a family of her own. She worried far too much about us; her imagination would run away with her if anyone wasn't home when they said they would be. She could be critical and had a tendency to look at the negative, which drove us mad at times, but then she'd suddenly go all positive when we least expected it. Just when we'd think, "Oh, Mum will never go for that," ... yes, she would. The line between parent and friend was very thin, mostly due to that youthful attitude I mentioned earlier. Sometimes it was more like having an older sister than a mum like everyone else's. She wasn't strict and she liked to talk through issues with us, rather than tell us off. Our friends loved her, and she enjoyed getting to know them, often becoming their confidant as well. There was no criticism of the music we listened to - she gave it a fair listen and enjoyed a lot of it herself. She gave advice, whether we wanted it or not, but also asked for our opinions. She spoke openly with us about everything, there was no subject (honestly, NO subject!) off limits. We often joked that she had no filter; it wasn't unusual to feel utterly embarrassed by something she'd said while we were out in public, because she had a tendency to speak without thinking. She was quick witted, and bitingly sarcastic at times, but very attentive towards her friends and loved ones. If one of us had a problem, Mum would try to fix it for us - whether it be financially or just offering to ring whoever was causing the issue and sort them out, even if it was a government department! We were always having to remind her that we were old enough to do that kind of thing for ourselves.

Her children came first, always. Even at the end. We were prepared for a vigil of hours - or even days - by her bedside but, once she knew we were all with her, she passed away quietly while we were having a giggle about something. No fuss. It was like she didn't want to drag it out and make it harder for us. We were a bit stunned, but more relieved that it had been quick and painless for her.

They say hearing is the last sense to go when you are dying. It was beautiful, and perfect, that the last sound she heard was her children sharing a joke. That sense of humour she raised us with has helped us a lot, both in the lead-up to her death and also afterwards. When we were sitting with the funeral director, giving the details for Mum's death certificate, the question of her occupation came up. My sister smiled at the woman filling out the form and said, "I don't suppose we can put 'Socialite'?"

Mum was one of a kind ... but we are all like her in various ways, and we know she will always be with us in some form. There is no doubt that we will miss her terribly, but we will support each other and get through this together.

That's how she raised us.

Late for work

My alarm failed me this morning.

I was having a beautiful sleep. I woke up feeling refreshed and well-rested. But, I knew, as soon as I opened my eyes, that something wasn't right. There was light in the bedroom. That lovely, early morning light that filters through the curtains and signals that the day is beginning.

It's Winter. This was not the dark bedroom I would have expected to see when my alarm went off at 5 am.

That's because my alarm didn't go off at 5 ... or at all, in fact. When I did wake up, it was 6.30 am.

I was supposed to start work at 6.30 am.

Aaarrghh! Panic set in. I rang work and told them I'd overslept and I'd be there as soon as I could. Surprisingly, there was no panic on the other end of the phone. The nurse on duty calmly checked if I was rostered on today - I was - and then informed me that no one seemed to have missed me. All the other staff had just gone and begun their day without questioning whether I was even there.

I really wasn't sure how to take this news... whether I should feel relieved that i hadn't stressed everyone out, or insulted that my absence went unnoticed!

Anyway, I dressed for work, had a quick breakfast and headed in for my shift. In the end, I arrived only half an hour late, starting at 7 am.

When I spoke to the other staff members, it turned out they had noticed I wasn't there at 6.30. However, they just assumed I was running late and would be on the way. Apparently that's how reliable I am. Which is actually a lovely reputation to have.

Or, maybe they're so used to me skating in at the last minute .....

Sweet Sixteen

Ah, my baby girl. She turned 16 last week (yes, it's been a busy time with both our teenagers hitting milestone birthdays within a fortnight of each other!).

Our daughter, as far as age goes, is between our two boys. It can be a difficult place ... being the middle child AND the only girl. She's never had any trouble putting herself forward though. She has always been a strong personality (a 'spirited' child, as they say) - determined, stubborn, headstrong, wilful, bossy. All those things. I've often told my husband that her 'take charge' attitude will serve her well one day, we just need to cope with it in the meantime!

However, she can also be caring, emotional, sensitive and yes, very sweet. She's fiercely protective and quick to defend those she loves - and even those she doesn't, if she feels they're being treated unfairly. If she knows that someone is upset or going through a difficult time, she drops everything to be there for them. Even when it might serve her better not to.

She recently got herself a job, because school isn't really her thing. It used to be; in fact, she was an incredibly good student in primary school. However, high school brought with it a whole bunch of issues and challenges that made it difficult for her to continue. But, I've always been happy to accept that school isn't for everyone in the long run, so we've supported her looking for work and leaving school a little early.

She had a lovely birthday. First, a family dinner at a restaurant, just like her brother a couple of weeks earlier. Then, I granted her a wish. Months ago, she asked if she and I could have a mother-daughter night away somewhere. Just the two of us, preferably near a beach. Well, I'm proud to say, I delivered! We had a two bedroom unit at Redcliffe, overlooking the beach, all to ourselves for a night. The unit wasn't 5 star and we were on a very strict budget due to recent financial limitations, but it was pure luxury for us. We bought food to cook and eat on our little balcony, walked along the beach and explored the Redcliffe jetty and tourist area. We also got up early the following morning and watched the sunrise.

It's the sort of thing we should try to do more often, as an entire family. We don't manage to save enough money to do the sort of long-distance travelling that so many of us dream of doing (and I admire those who can do it), but to splash out now and then on spending a night in a place we wouldn't normally get to is a real treat.

And I'm loving the fact that mother-daughter time has become such an important thing to my beautiful girl x