Animal House

Happy animal month! Actually, I don't think that's a thing ... but it sure feels like it at our house lately.

In recent times we've had an increase in animal activity around our area. Mostly it's been wildlife, hanging around a bit closer to the house because it's been so hot and dry that the only way they can get any decent water and food is to get closer to humans. These are the joys of living in a semi-rural area in a drought. We've been making sure there is plenty of water outside, in containers around the property and in the bird bath, so that all the animals can find refreshment. We throw food scraps into the gardens and hang overripe fruit in the trees. There has been a constant stream of various birds, as well as possums, bats, lizards, kangaroos, a large echidna and even a young carpet snake, so we're happy to help them out.

Well, the snake gave everyone a fright at first, but he's pretty harmless. To us, anyway.

We also have to be aware that, in the warmer weather of Spring, there are lots of animals moving around with no road sense whatsoever. I hit a young kangaroo just a few nights ago, with the front of my car. I wasn't going too fast and reacted quickly to hit the brakes. I felt the impact, but the roads in our neighbourhood are very quiet, so I was able to back the car up and get out to check on the animal - thankfully he seemed to be only stunned, rather than physically hurt. He sat for a couple of minutes, then hopped away as I approached him. The only damage to my car was a bent number plate, so I'm pleased we both seem to have had a lucky escape. 

Back to the story though, we've also made a change to our domestic animal situation. Since the end of 2017, the only pet we've had is our cat, Panda. She's named for her black and white coat (although I tell everyone it's because she was heading for the size of a panda before we put her on a diet!). A couple of days ago though, the Caveman happened to mention that he would consider having a second cat again. He's a cat lover, and even prefers cats over dogs. Anyway, the kids didn't need any extra encouragement ... immediately, our daughter said, "Really? Because we know of one that needs a home."

All the details came out - the cat belonged to a friend of the kids, who couldn't keep her anymore. No one seemed to know exactly how old she was (between 1 and 2 years?), or what breed, or how many kittens she's had (our son is certain he was aware of two litters). Her owner loved her, but wasn't in a position to provide the care she needed. So, on the strength of that and one photo we saw of her, we agreed to give her a chance.

Yes, it was a spontaneous decision. I could hear my Mum in my mind, lecturing me, even as I agreed the cat could come to us.

Anyway, she's been here for three days now and seems to have settled in well. She is very sweet and affectionate, although she and Panda are still deciding whether they'll be friends. I've booked her in to see the Vet for desexing, microchipping and all that responsible ownership stuff.

The really funny thing is that her name is Meerkat. So now we have Panda and Meerkat. We might only have two cats, but it sounds like we're starting up a zoo!

We Are The World

It's time for a rant. Sometimes, it's good to get feelings down on paper (or screen, lol).

Life has been ridiculously busy and stressful in recent times, so my blog has fallen to the bottom of the priorities list again. As stated in a previous post, I prefer to keep things light ... but then, if we're having a lot of ups and downs in life, I don't have much 'light' stuff to write about.

I also prefer to avoid political subjects. Generally. But today I'm breaking that rule.

Climate change protests. Okay, it's a big subject to leap into. But I've struggled with low mood over the past few days and, while there are many personal reasons for that, I've realised a big part of it is also that I've been upset by seeing so many people (mostly on social media) attacking children for simply standing up for what they believe in.

Calling them "brainwashed", making out they are controlled by their dictator teachers and parents. Never mind that this generation actually have more knowledge at their fingertips than any other generation before them. They are able to access arguments from both sides, they hear what the sceptics have to say too, including their own loved ones ... and they are intelligent enough to make up their own minds.

But it's so trendy to attack people openly now, especially over how children are raised. If we hover, we're "helicopter parenting" our kids. If we allow them more independence, we're creating little monsters who think they can get away with anything. If we tell them our views, we're not allowing them to have minds of their own. If we encourage them to research for themselves and form their own opinions, we're turning them into trouble makers.

Does that mean if our kids sit back and do nothing to change their world, we've raised them right? No, I don't think so (and then we're raising "a bunch of lazy, self-entitled brats").

I worry more about what kind of parent would teach their children that they shouldn't stand up for what they believe in? Humans wouldn't have made the advances we have if everyone just decided nothing had to change. No votes for women. No education for girls. No black people in "whites only" areas. We'd still be persecuting gay people simply for being who they are - which, of course, does still happen in some countries.

Activism can be disruptive (mostly to those who are comfortable with the status quo), and it forces people to confront issues they might not be comfortable with. Of course it suits everyone to think the climate is changing on its own and, even though I'm not a scientist, obviously there is a cycle that has gone on for centuries. It's easy to think there's nothing we can do about it. We all have enough going on already, right? But, while I've got no doubt that a fair amount of climate change is just nature taking its course, there's also no doubt that what humans do could have a big impact. That's the point these kids are making, in a nutshell.

I don't care about the day off school. The teachers knew it was coming and would have arranged lessons around it. The whole idea of a "strike" is to get attention - it's hard to do that on a weekend. Yes, many of the kids would have travelled to the demonstrations in air conditioned cars. Most cars have air con these days, and not at the kids' request. Maybe they drank water from plastic water bottles. That's often the easiest way to transport water to keep yourself hydrated - again, not invented by the kids (and reinforcing my previous point, the parents would be accused of neglect if the kids started dropping like flies from dehydration).

What's the worst that can happen if the kids are right and we pay attention? Instead of being alienated by them for dismissing their concerns, we may actually improve the only Earth we have to live on.

Loved Ones We Miss

Sometimes when I get up really early in the morning, I look around my kitchen and dining area, quiet before the start of the day, and allow myself to imagine my mum here. She used to pop up from Brisbane once or twice a year, generally for Christmas or some other occasion, for a visit. She was a fairly early riser, generally out of bed by about 6 am, and I'm usually not much later than that. We'd sit together in the mornings, have a coffee and chat while we watched the sun rising. It was my favourite part of her visits. That time in the mornings that we had all to ourselves before my kids or the Caveman got up and joined us.

It's been just over 18 months since we lost Mum and her birthday was just a few days ago. She would have loved the fact that she was turning 69 this year - with all the innuendo! She had a dirty sense of humour, which I often rolled my eyes at, but she would have run with that joke for ages.

Sometimes I miss her dreadfully. I could talk to her about anything - she really was my best friend and my sounding board. I mean, obviously my husband is too, but with Mum I could discuss issues that he either wasn't interested in, or was too close to be objective about. She didn't always have the answers, but then I didn't expect her to.

I miss being able to tell her all the little things that are going on in our lives; sharing milestones and celebrations with her - our eldest son's great season at cricket (one of her favourite sports) and being named Rookie of the Year for his new team. Our daughter's achievements in studying for the career she wants. Just seeing them become responsible and mature young adults would have brought her so much joy. Our youngest boy starting high school and passing my height at the tender age of 11. I am officially the shortest member of the family now! She would have laughed at that.

I reassure myself that she's watching and is aware of all these things anyway, but nothing comes close to actually being able to talk to her and hear her voice. I find myself feeling sorry for people who didn't get to meet her, and I remember feeling that way after my husband's father passed away too. No matter how well you try to describe someone, you feel like you can't capture them enough for the other person to really 'get' who they were. My father-in-law would have been 89 today - his birthday was only three days after my Mum's. He's been gone for nine years, but it still feels like it hasn't been that long. A lot has happened in that time though. When he passed, we were struggling with the Caveman being unable to work and me being at home full-time as well, trying to raise three children aged 10 and under - with hardly any income. To see how far we've come, with our qualifications and jobs, as well as how the kids have grown and what they've each achieved, would have made him so proud.

We also very recently lost a man who the Caveman considered to be his best friend. He had been ill for a while, so we knew it was coming, but it was still very upsetting to the whole family when he passed. It may seem like we've had a lot of sadness in recent years, and it's true that each person has left a hole that can't be filled by anyone else. However, when I think of the people we've lost, the memories that dominate are their humour and ability to see the funny or optimistic side of just about anything.

They're good memories to have - and a lovely way to remember anyone who is no longer with us.

Old Bird

I had a funny moment at work a few days ago. I was at an elderly client's home, preparing his lunch for him, when he commented, 'you know, you've still got an alright figure for an old bird.'

Well! I took a moment to get over my shock at the 'old bird' bit and thanked him, with a bit of a chuckle. He'd obviously meant it as a compliment. I also chose not to point out to him just how much older than me he is! But it got me thinking about age. Like most people in their mid forties, I still feel like I'm much younger. If I had to put a number on it, I'd say I feel like I'm about thirty. I can't explain why - maybe it's that my health hasn't changed much since about that age. I still feel like I have a fairly youthful attitude to life in general too, which helps.

I forget sometimes that I'm from a different generation to my children. We have a close relationship and agree on most things, so to have them remind me occasionally that I don't really 'get' what they're talking about is always a bit of a surprise. Perfectly normal of course - I remember doing the same with my Mum (who was very young at heart). She never showed offence, which was lovely, and I try to do the same for my kids. They won't know how young they'll still feel in their forties until they get there, so it's not something to take too personally. I laugh it off and remind them that they'll be 'old' too one day.

I remember when the Caveman and I were first together and he took me to meet his Dad, who was an older father and already in his sixties then. He was still working part time and kept very active, doing all his own work around the house and yard. Some of his attitudes were outdated, and he could be a stubborn old man when it came to his opinions, but he was another 'young at heart' type. He generally had a good sense of humour and enjoyed conversation with people of all ages. He and my mother got on brilliantly and were good friends until his death, many years later - I always felt they both recognised a kindred spirit in each other.

I guess I went through a period of feeling older after my Mum passed away and I was grieving. I struggled to stay active outside of work and ate too much of the wrong things, then discovered after a couple of months that I would get breathless just going for a short walk. That threw me into a bit of a panic, so I improved my diet and lifestyle after that and lost the little bit of weight I'd put on. My general health has improved and I move more easily, which also helps with mental health.

So, old men's opinions aside, I still feel young. Besides, I can always take comfort in the fact that even now, when strangers ring the house, they'll sometimes say to me, 'Can I speak to your mum or dad please?' I may be getting older but I think my voice missed the memo!

Death, Happiness and a New Year

It's New Year's Eve and I woke up this morning thinking about death. I have no idea why; maybe it's to do with the year ending? I also had an urge to get everything that was going through my head written down while it was all fresh in my mind, which I guess also makes sense; clearing out the old to get ready for the new.

I'm aware that reading this blog is one of the ways my kids will discover more about me in the future. So, if I feel a need to write things down for them while I have the chance, then I'll do it. Maybe it will bring them some sense of peace one day after I'm gone.

On the subject of death, since it's the thought I woke up with, I want them to know I'm not afraid of dying. I'm sure I've said it before, but it's worth repeating. Of course, I have the same irrational fear of the unknown that most people share, but I think that's more to do with the fear of illness or pain before the actual death occurs. I'm not frightened of what comes next or where I'll be afterwards. I'm not in any hurry to get there, but I honestly believe that I will go to a place where I can still be around everyone I love who is alive, and also with loved ones I've lost along the way. I find it reassuring to think we'll be together again one day and I'm sure that belief has made it a little easier for me to come to terms with losing people.

When it comes to irrational fear around death, I'm more afraid of something happening to one of the kids. Like most parents, I worry far more for my children than I do for myself. I adore each of them, and like every other child on the planet, they probably won't realise just how much until they have children of their own.

I remember when, as a child myself, I worried that my Mum was going to die unexpectedly. Not just one day in the future, but right then - I would see her napping on the couch and panic that she might not wake up. Maybe that's a normal fear for a child though. I also remember thinking Mum was afraid of death. That may have been true when she was younger but when it came to her actually dying, in her sixties, she didn't seem afraid at all. She told us she accepted whatever would come and that her only sadness was that she would have wanted to be with us, her children and grandchildren, for a few more years. She also had that concern about whether there might be any pain beforehand, but once the doctor assured her that he didn't expect there would be, I saw her visibly relax.

We've lost a number of people in recent years. My two teens have both lost dear friends to illness, the Caveman and I have each lost one parent (which of course means the kids have lost two much-loved grandparents), and just recently a gentleman we knew took his own life. Every death has an impact on everyone who knew that person; even more so if the death comes sooner than expected or in a seemingly senseless way. I know that when you're left behind, it doesn't always feel like the person you've lost is still around - and, of course, nothing is the same as actually having them there in person to talk to and share special moments with, to hug and to be held by.

However, I've made it clear to everyone who knows me that I absolutely DO believe in signs from people who have passed on. If I'm able, I can promise that after I'm gone I will send signs to my family that I'm still around them in some form and I hope it brings them comfort. Something I often say to my kids is: 'If you think something might be a sign, believe that it is.'

Of course, you can't talk about death without also discussing life. I want my kids to know that yes, there are times in life when it seems like nothing is good or happy. Sometimes, if you get caught up in the tragedy of it all, it feels like we're all just here to die in the end. I've been there too ... wondering what the purpose or meaning of life even is. (At this point my husband, the 'Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy' fan, would probably laugh and say it's 42.)

I don't know the meaning of life.  I don't know if there is a purpose to us being here, but I believe we're supposed to learn and grow throughout the journey. I also believe life is filled with joyful moments and amazing experiences that will have us smiling to ourselves and shaking our heads in wonder. It's a matter of recognising those moments, appreciating them, and placing them above the unhappy moments. I get into trouble with my husband sometimes for saying happiness is a choice - and yes, I know it's not always that simple. I struggle with it myself at times. But I think what you choose to focus on makes a genuine difference to your overall mental health and wellbeing. I like to remind myself that the happy moments in my life have far outweighed the sad ones.

Life is good, really. I wish everyone a happy 2019 filled with valuable experiences and precious memories.

Happy Christmas to All

It's Christmas Day in Australia ... two months since I last blogged (I'm really not reliable at this!). I've had a disorganised lead up to the big day, which is unusual for me. I've been working a lot lately and running myself down a bit, so I spent most of the previous two days just popping back to the shops for things I forgot (and kicking myself because the crowds have been awful - I prefer to avoid the last minute rush). I really worried that today wouldn't go well, but it turned out okay. In honour of the occasion, I've reworked a classic Christmas poem:

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse (well, not now that we've given up on the cat being any good at mousing and started laying out traps for them ourselves instead).

The stockings were hung with care - none of the kids believe in Santa anymore, but of course "Mum, we still want our stockings!" I told them once they stop believing in the big guy, they get underpants in their stockings, but they said they were fine with that.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds ... eventually. I think we all hit the sack somewhere between 11pm and midnight. I have no idea what visions were dancing in the kids' heads, but I'm sure I was seeing double by the time mine landed on the pillow.

If there was any clatter, I didn't hear it. I'm pretty sure St Nick didn't call his reindeer by name outside my window, or I would have leapt out of bed just to throw a broomstick in his general direction. Oh, and heaven help him if he dared to break into my house and mess with my neatly packed stockings!

The only rosy cheeks I saw this morning were my own, after I woke up at the slightly offensive hour of 5 am and put some makeup on so as to not scare normal people away.

I know none of it rhymes. I don't care. I'm tired. This is why, if I'm going to do a Christmas blog, I usually do it at least a few days in advance, when I'm in love with the season and wishing everyone peace.

This morning, once I pulled up my big girl panties and made a beeline for the coffee, I figured the day would go the way it was meant to and I was ready for anything. But it ended up being a great morning. Everyone loved their gifts. We had an early lunch and lots of good conversation. Not everything went to plan; I didn't have time to make the pavlova and I forgot all about the honey soy chicken pieces that were already prepared and in the fridge. But it was good anyway and I'd happily do it all again tomorrow.

I do wish everyone peace, and love and health and happiness. Friends who have lost loved ones are, as always, at the front of my mind. I know it's hard. This is my second Christmas without my Mum, and even though it's much easier than last year, she still hovers in my thoughts regularly. I also find as the kids get older that I enjoy every little bit of Christmas spirit that we share - the older two are just about all grown up now and could fly the nest anytime, and I'm aware we'll never get this time back. I'm pretty certain we'll never again convince all of them to pile into one little car with us to cruise around and check out the Christmas lights!

The only tradition we have still to honour this year is the Christmas movie. It doesn't matter which one. We have two or three that we watch together every year, so our afternoon is set.

Right after I have a nap.

It's 'Bean' a Mess!

This week I watched the garbage truck pick up our bin and tip the contents into the back without incident ... and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Just over a week ago we had a storm which made international headlines. Our little corner of South East Queensland was hit by something which has been termed a "hailnado". It sounds like the title of a bad movie, but it's a fair description for a storm which had thunder, lightning, strong winds going in every direction, really heavy rain and hail coming at the house horizontally at times. There was lots of damage reported in all the areas that were hit and we were actually very fortunate to get away fairly lightly at our place.

The storm also contributed somewhat to an entirely unexpected issue at our house. After the storm we had a few days of rain - which was excellent, we needed it!. But we had a couple of dogs here that we were looking after, for a friend who was moving house. The dogs were afraid of storms, so our teenagers made sure they were safe inside a room under our house when the storm hit, as well as for some time afterwards when the rain was hanging around. It was a good idea, the dogs stayed warm and dry.

However, that room is a bit of a chill out area for our teens. There's a spare bed down there, an Xbox, a table and a couple of chairs ... and a bean bag. You can see where this is going, right? Two bored dogs shut inside with a lovely, puffy bag of beans. Sure enough, after we'd returned the dogs to their owner, one of my teens went to move the bean bag and POOF! Little white beans everywhere. One (or both?) of the dogs had managed to create a hole in the bag.

The first I knew of this was when I went downstairs to ask one of the kids a question and I noticed our green wheelie bin standing outside the door. I opened the lid, only to see the bin was half-filled with loose bean bag beans! My teens had cleaned up the mess, but unintentionally created a new problem. Can you imagine what would have happened when the rubbish truck lifted the bin into the air and upturned it to open the lid? If you've ever had the delightful experience of dealing with bean bag beans yourself, I'm sure the picture is forming in your mind.

After a quick lecture to the kids about the perils (and possible fines) of casting our own unique brand of 'snow' over the neighbourhood - not to mention the environmental and wildlife impact - we set about removing the beans from the bin and bagging them up. That's easier said than done, I might add. It involved my industrial-sized vacuum cleaner, four household bin liners and a LOT of patience. The whole operation had to be done inside the house due to the 'flyaway' nature of the beans. They're slippery little suckers at the best of times, without a breeze to complicate matters.

As I said, to see the bin emptied a day or two later (with only the odd stray bean left on the ground after the truck moved off) was a big relief. We have a new rule at home now ... no more bean bags!