Words

and the to was 

we in of 

I see my it 

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Learning words is big in our house at the moment. 
Sight words, sounding out words, songs about letters and vowels, and lots of questions about combinations of letters and what they mean - most of which are meaningless (to me & the rest of the 'not 5 years old' world). 

The fact is though, I love the whole process of watching my boy learn letters and words.
I am so keen for him to learn words so that he can read that I have to be really careful that my enthusiasm doesn't flow into pressure to get it right, that then starts a spiral of losing the sheer love of learning and wonder at realising you are seeing letters and words everywhere, and how cool that is and how you want to learn more! The teacher has emphasised more than once to me that there is to be "no pressure", and only to praise and let it come naturally - I fear she's sensing something. I know that many parents are reacting strongly to the state curriculum that is now really focused on getting 4 and 5 year olds prepared for reading (or should I say Naplan?). I can see that it there is a place for worrying that we are rushing them, and not letting nature takes its course a little more at such a tender age. One mother said to me "they have their whole life to learn to read and write" which is true and let's face it, as adults many of us are still struggling to perfect our writing skills, and reading is a craft I still work at. But such parents still seem to subscribe to the age old wisdom that its perfect to teach a foreign language and music to kids at an early age because they are like sponges and find it so much easier to learn ...so why not reading ? 

I have loved reading for as long as I can remember, and my life has been punctuated by periods of intense reading and some life changing books. It is a love that has kept me company as a young child through to adulthood and continues to -it has created friendships and been the source of wonderful conversations. An ideal holiday is one where there are many good books involved.  I still reread Joseph Conrad's 'Heart of Darkness' on a semi-regular basis, largely just to relive the feeling I had at 16 when I started to understand how layered narrative could be and just how brilliant literature truly was.

But I as I sit with my boy and explain how all these words are the keys to open that door  of discovery, I know I have to be patient, and to accept that maybe it won't be his love, that maybe he will find joy and comfort and meaning in other things, and that, in so doing, he will teach me to see the world in different ways too. 

a day in the life of 6163

Got the bike out again today to ride Boy Wonder over to visit a friend in his neighbourhood - made it (miracle) ! On route saw another 6163 mum with her boys riding the streets in the (nearly) requisite transport for this neighbourhood - the cargo bike - gave her a wave and went on my merry way. Then I saw another mum friend with her 2 juniors on route to the park where others would be gathering. Stopped... chatted - said I'd see her soon with little Miss. Dropped Boy Wonder and had a good chat with Boy Wonder's friend's mum about various sustainability measures in their house and the beauty of gardening I could have talked all day but it was off to the park to hang out with some mum friends where the conversation ranged (amongst many things) from current fiction and non-fiction people are reading, the negatives and positives of reading the blogs of other mums, and cooking wholefood ...or not. Then it was back to someone's house to extend the never ending desire of our children to keep playing, and allow us mums to keep the conversation going - as best one can with kids. Then it was off to drop a food parcel to a mum whose husband is away - just as someone did for me last week when my partner in crime was away, to make someone's life that little bit easier and just to know people in the neighbourhood are thinking of you - which was how I felt. 
What on earth is this all about you ask ?... well, for a while now I've been thinking about community - what does it really mean to be a part of a community, do they really exist, will I ever be a part of one, or find one for my children that meets what I think I want for them to experience ? I have looked for a long time, but since moving to 6163 and slowly establishing my life and my children's lives here I have days like today (which are really very standard in this place & happen all the time), where I realise how good it makes me feel that I know the people I see around my neighbourhood and not only that, I really like a lot of them and my children want to hang out with their children, and we seem to share some of the same views and manage to have interesting conversations about all sorts of things, and I stop and think that, sure it isn't perfect, but maybe, just maybe, I... we ... belong .... and that this IS community.

How did it come to this ?

I've always considered myself fit(ish), and while I know I am one of those people who has very intense periods of exercise - [i have been a gym junkie, running junkie and weight lifting junkie (through both pregnancies which, looking back, probably was pretty alarming for all those beefcake boys who would stare at me in horror)]- followed by lulls, I generally seemed to maintain it.  These days any form of formal exercise has been left in the 'no time for that' pile, and in terms of getting my 30 minutes a day I figured all the running around and picking crap up continually was good enough (physically at least, certainly not mentally). But Oh how WRONG I WAS !
Recently I was confronted with the extent to which I have: 
a) let it all go;
b) been deluding myself that I haven't let it all go; and,
c)  how much pain it is going to take to get it back.  

In a moment of spontaneity I threw little (not so light) Miss on the back of the push bike and set off for her circus class. I expected some tension in the thighs but the extent of lactic acid that flooded through my system 5 minutes into the big hill started to concern me - i tried to distract myself by adding up exactly how long it had been since i got on the bike - and as I added up the months it started to dawn on me that not only was I not going to make it to circus class on time - I wasn't going to make it at all, in fact.... I was going to be sick... and I was.  

The horror, the humiliation, the hilarity of my pathetic state lying on the kerb in a cold sweat, with my poor daughter - still strapped in the bike lying on her side - watching me with that blank expression my kids have when I am having a meltdown or generally in some crazy scenario. I lay there considering my options, which included calling a cab, or walking home, which eventually we did - slowly. 

The pain continued for the rest of the day and it took medication and 11 hours sleep to recover (physically), but the humiliation and fear remain, and I now face the daunting task of working out how and where I start. 

So if you see a lone figure walking briskly around 6163, or throwing up on the kerb - you'll know I'm doing my best. 

A New Day Dawns

6.15: The sound of what can only be described as a very bad 1970s margarine commercial starts entering my state of conscious until I realise and simultaneously lurch to the ‘smart’ phone - kill the dreadful sound and pray I didn’t wake little miss. I pry my child’s feet out from under my rib cage and manage to remove myself without disturbing sleeping child – victory! 

And so my first attempt to get up before my children and be more organised and just generally more calm … has begun….

6.25: I stagger into the cold and darkish kitchen only to realise in order for children to stay asleep I can’t make the coffee – suddenly rethinking this idea very quickly.

6.30: Sit at the table and think about what work I have to do today & decide I need to do something far more meaningful at this hour so think about making nourishing warm porridge for the family – only to find we have about 3 oats in the jar.

6.40: Sit back at the table and contemplate shopping lists.

7.15: All of a sudden Boy Wonder sprints in and disturbs my shopping list contemplation, which is just as well, because I hadn’t really got past oats.

7.25: Decide to throw complete caution to the wind and make the Boy Wonder toast with what can only be described as liquid chocolate masquerading as nut spread (yes, you can always tell when Dad goes shopping) – but if its good enough for the Italian kiddies - its good enough for mine – especially on the days they aren’t at home with me !

7.40: I can no longer hold out - Coffee grinder into action, kettle on and blowing away and then everyone is up.

8.00:  Attempt to tune into intellectual discussion on the radio – asylum seekers asylum seekers asylum seekers – that’s about all I got over the incessant demands for “more toast” (its going down a treat I tell ya); questions about why we didn’t get up early and the suitability of this breakfast item on a week day (I think about pointing out I was up and the suitability of buying the chocolate spread at all - but don’t – all part of the new calm me); more demands for water, more toast, just more everything and “did you know that in India people cook with fire made from cow poo ?”.  During this time I am preparing lunches for people (at speed).

8.15: Partner in crime exits out the back door (with lunch) and I stop moving to take two sips of coffee. 

8.30: Realise I stopped moving for way too long and that I must begin my very own Olympic like hurdles race challenge that I face everyday at the moment - its called – ‘Getting my children dressed’ (!). This involves a lot of running, a stop watch, continual shouts of encouragement and C”MON, and a collapsing to the floor thanking whoever for the sheer joy that it has been achieved.

8.40: Start the United Nations like negotiations to get teeth cleaned and hair brushed and up in some semblance of order  - in the case of little Miss (gave up all such pretense with Boy Wonder a long time ago).

8.45: Back for two more sips of coffee – think about food (no time) but take vitamins instead (much quicker & can be washed down with coffee)

8.50:  Attempt to find jeans (on the floor where I left them last night), jumper (next to jeans), scrounge in the 3 laundry baskets of clean clothes for other miscellaneous items, and then swipe some age reducing cream over my face. Keep thinking - why is it I still feel late when I got up earlier? This shouldn’t be happening !

8.57: Locate children and herd to the door – catch the runaway – and re-shepherd back to the door, remember that I need keys and stupid phone – which is where???… that’s right … under the pillow where it all started … find phone, (continually running at this stage), relocate children -  shift the lot out the door

9.05: We are out of the house ! (late, disheveled, not very calm)

It can only get better … right?

   

School Daze

When I was a kid (and I admit that was a while ago), there was a very straightforward scenario that went like this .... when you were old enough to go to school - off you went to school - your local school, just like the kids in your street and the street next to that, the black kids, the white kids, the kids whose dad had a professional job and those whose dad drove a truck - all went to the local school - the only ones who didn't were the Catholics - but who knew what they got up to. That scenario was the beginning, the middle and the end of 'going to school' (until High School... anyway). Every time I moved house the scenario was the same - new house, new friends in the street, new local school that everyone went to - except the Catholics  - and in case you were thinking we moved to find a better local school - that just wasn't a concept around in those days. School was school - they had a stuffy old male principle in shorts and long socks, teachers (some good, some better - some old and some new, some strict and some not), classrooms with their bright green and blue carpet and matching little chairs, a sporting oval, sporting carnivals where the same kids always got all the medals every year (because kids won and lost in those days - no concept of everyone being a winner- didn't stop us all trying either), school discos where you did bush dancing or even the penguin dance, parent and teacher nights, your dad on the P & C, excursions to exciting places like the wood mill and a sheep farm, MS read-a-thons, the 'how did i get here' film night that made you squirm, the canteen where your mum didn't serve people unless they said please (more squirming), and all the bits in between from kindergarten to year 6 including report cards.  
Thinking about how straight forward it all seems I just can't imagine what my parents did for conversation without having to sit around talking/agonising about what school their kids should go to, what pedagogical philosophy they thought suited us best, or thinking up inventive ways they could fake an address to get us in another local school which everyone (who doesn't go there) seems convinced is for some reason so much better than theirs. 
The fact is that way back then a lot of parents believed in public education - and for good reason -  because generally it was good, it was free and it was a part of the fabric of the community.  Parents used it, supported it and believed it delivered a solid education in the basics (although I don't think they even thought about them as basics then - it was just an education).  
So now some decades later I find myself continually thinking about the choices (or lack of choice) I feel I have because I only have the local school, and the angst I feel in my minority status as a parent sending their child to their local school and that somehow I have let my child down, wishing all the parents in the streets of 6163 (even the Catholics) were doing the same and not thinking twice about it (let alone a thousand times).

Bali

Our annual holiday to Bali has been and gone, and words really cannot capture what it is we all love so much about going there and all the different experiences we each have as individuals and as a family. I could write about the beauty, the serenity, the simplicity and the uniqueness of that place, but instead 

I'll let the photos show just a glimpse of why we love it so much 

Stuff

I don't know if this is a common thing among the households of 6163 but I have all these collections scattered about the place of "stuff" - all of them contain things that could be categorised under various headings such as "will get back to that later" and "can't think where to put it but know I will need it at some point" and my favourite collection -  "really want to keep that because I will one day enjoy making something with it" - this last pile goes waaay back and has different genres like cool cards, old photos, bits of fabric, and other kooky stuff that I refuse to throw out because I am attached to them, and I am convinced I will find a purpose for them, or display them so their uniqueness will be on show for all to see .... if only I had the time.  It's true that in some ways these are painful reminders that a) I keep things for a long time/ have trouble throwing stuff out; b) am not good at sorting and putting away; and, c) I don't complete tasks. 

To avoid facing the harsh reality of what these piles might represent I put them all in nice bags and different containers, tins, baskets and cool boxes (like my vintage Cuban cigar box - that's a good one - as is my quite largish George Jensen bag ....thanks hubby). That way they become part of the look of the place, and I do enjoy looking at them (as I rush by), and the added bonus is that people I am married to don't notice them quite so much (especially when I keep adding to them after recent trips to places like Melbourne).

The trouble is I never seem to have the time to devote to playing and making things like I would if I could  - I envy the crafty mums of 6163 who obviously prioritise these things and give themselves much joy, either that or they have a serious addiction to something unhealthy that keeps them awake long into the night allowing them to achieve these things - including sewing !

So for now I guess I just wait until that moment comes ... and keep making and adding to my beautiful collection of Stuff.

A Mother's Love

Being Mother's day I find myself reflecting on what motherhood has brought to my life thus far, and inevitably how much my life has changed. I knew it was always going to change, but you can never really know just how much and in what ways - how can you ? 

During my first pregnancy and, to be honest, many years before that (when I was not into the concept of having children), I spent a lot of time thinking about all the things that would change with a child - from the lack of sleep, to having to let my career go, to never having time alone with my husband or to read a book or watch a movie, through to the multitude of serious afflictions and dangers a child could face. But the one thing I hadn't really thought through or anticipated was just how intense my love for my children was going to be, and I know now that it is that love which is what ultimately changes everything.  It is this love which gets you out of bed in the middle of the night (every night), its what makes you take a deep breath and find a reserve of patience and calm you never knew you had - when really you just want to scream,  it's what makes your heart ache when they are scared or sad, and it is this love which enables you to put your own needs aside, or at least much further down the priority list. 

Motherhood brings daily challenges and insights, it delivers absurdity, hilarity, creativity, and exhaustion in equal measure.  It makes demands on you on so many levels and teaches you so much about yourself ... aspects you never knew existed - the good and the not so good.  It shows you a type of love I never knew existed, nor would I have thought myself capable of giving - and which, today  ... leaves me feeling truly blessed.

Yearnings

Well, babies are everywhere in 6163 at the moment, if they haven't arrived, they are on their way, and there is lots of big beautiful bellies being shown off in all their glory, lots of talk - about names, birth stories, siblings, and much anticipation, and there is the inevitable question from and to others .... will you have another ?

Despite my answer always being "no", it always feels a little awkward, I always hesitate as if I am reconsidering (which I'm not), and I am always taken aback that people would think I would be having another, and yet it is a natural enough question, I guess. These days it seems being 40 is certainly not an age that prohibits women from having children. This is very different to my mother's generation who, at 35, found out she was pregnant with me (a very BIG mistake following some 8 years since the birth of my brother and 10 since my sister) and was devastated at what people would think of her being such an old mother ! and certainly I didn't meet many classmates who had a mum as old as mine. Hilarious to think I was the same age as that when I had my first !

Yet despite my certainty of this family of four remaining just that - its strange how I am suddenly starting to feel a sense of loss and a feeling that I'm missing out on something, and yet I have already have two! I see babies everywhere now - like when you buy a yellow car and that is all you see on the roads.

I find myself thinking I would love to be back there - in baby/pregnant world -  (just for a day or two) anticipating the arrival of a new life, new personality, experiencing all that joy with your partner. I would love to watch another child grow, knowing as I do now how much each child is so different, and the joy you get from watching them develop, and how you start to make the links from the baby they were to the child they are growing up to be. I would like to breastfeed for one more time, stroking my baby's head while their little hands rest on you. I think about how I would like to be able to use my new found wisdom and skills that I have not only acquired but improved - wow how that third child would really benefit from all that I now know. But then I realise I wouldn't have the time to be the better mum I know I could be third time round because I would still be dealing with all the uncertainty of what the first is going through, the challenges of what the second child needs from me, and all the guilt, anxiety and fatigue that seems to deliver to me (as well as the joy, laughter, and sense of purpose)  

And so it is that by the time I have imagined that little newborn in my life, and what that would really mean for me and us, I realise the answer is 'no'.  In my moments of clarity (they are brief but they do happen), I know I have to focus on being present for the two that I am blessed to have, and attempt to be that better mum for them. 

So I guess Ill just hold someone else's baby every now and again, accept that I just wont hold my own ever again, and try not to cry at this thought or see it as a loss or weakness, but just ...what it is.

Summer Daze

Summer 2012 has been wonderful for this family of four, defined as it has been with lots of sun, trips to the beach, barbecues, passionfruits from our vine, sunsets and star gazing and a quintessential family holiday to the wild, unspoilt and spectacular coast line of southern WA. The 2 weeks spent discovering idyllic beaches cemented the love affair with this dramatic and isolated coastline which was only heightened by the relentless calls from friends "back east" bemoaning their lack of summer, the rain, oh and did we mention 'the rain'. Choosing to stay here and not make the annual return was not only a message to our friends and family about our life (we love you, but we live here now), but a brilliant decision. 

Thrown in the mix of all this lazing about and enjoying ourselves was the occasion of my birthday, the big Four 'OH', which I was approaching with some trepidation and anxiety until the little voice I carry around reminded me of the blessing it was to have this day and to embrace the opportunity to reflect, to be grateful for all that I have,and all that I can look forward to, and to enjoy. And enjoy myself I did. What seemed like a festival of events with special family dinners, a romantic sailing trip, unbelievably good presents & even more beautiful cards with sentiments that made me cry, the arrival of 'old' friends from far away places, and new friends who helped celebrate at a very fun, kid-free party, left me feeling indulged, loved and above all, very happy (and hungover  - but even that was OK).  

Turning 40 for some people seems to be about looking at all that you have achieved with the emphasis being on success and material acquisitions, and maybe for some that is how they judge themselves, but for me its about the life I have shared with my best friend for 20 years, the children we have brought into the world & are navigating our way around, the beautiful friendships I have kept since my teenage years, the home we have made and the community we have found at 6163, and the fact that we are still here. 

One of the quotes in one of the cards I received summed up this summer for me..

"There is beauty to be found in the changing of the earth's seasons, and an inner grace in honouring the cycles of life".

Au revoir 2011

Well, while everyone heralds the new year in and confesses up to their resolutions, thoughts and wishes,  I thought I might take a moment to reflect on 2011 before getting ahead of myself (which is very unlike me so probably a good exercise in itself).
I thought I might just focus on the highlights of 2011 which, all in all, was a good one for this Family of Four.
So, in 2011:
We moved House (and found a home): much of what follows in this list is linked to this event. We may have only moved about 40 kilometres south but this 'sea change' was what this family desperately needed, It still fascinates me how different one suburb can be from another in the same town ! It ain't perfect but I am lovin' 6163.
Started a vege patch: Within weeks we had lettuce & rocket exploding from the front yard, and when the beetroot and snow peas sprung I thought I was the next Stephanie Alexander, alas the slaters have found my tomatoes, lettuce, herbs and mojo and I am learning how friggin' tough growing a plate of veges can be, respect to the growers out there.
Joined a book group: I have had a certain fascination with book groups for some time and when I finally got the chance to join one, I was thrilled, needless to say I have been a bit tardy with the books (but not the discussion - not sure how that works!) but I have learnt that the joy of a book club is  meeting up with a group of interesting women (sans children) who love literature, are keen to read new stuff and to hear about what you have read and vice versa. What's not to like ?
Made new friends: Making new friends as an adult can be difficult, you don't have a past with people, they often only know you as your children's mother (very one dimensional i must say) and you often only get a chance to talk to people with those very children hanging off you demanding drinks, food, the toilet or wanting to leave, so the discussion is stilted, at best. Since I was a child I have spent my life moving around having to meet new people and it is both a skill you learn (not often by choice) and something I both love and avoid. However, for the sake of my children and me, I have made tentative steps in 2011 and found those efforts handsomely repaid by people who I am desperate to know more about and to let them see more of me.
Started riding a bike: Every time I get on my bike and ride around the suburb, beaches or even 5 minutes down to the shop, I cant help but smile... I just love it and I just wish I would realise this more and get the goddamn thing out of the shed every day !
Started writing a blog: At first I was a bit infuriated with these women who plaster anecdotes and saccharin sweet photos of their lives with their upteen children all over the www,  telling us all how great every day is for them, then I became sceptical of the illusion the 'screen' brings to one's life as a mother etc., then I discovered a few more blogs of women I could relate to and enjoyed reading  and who I trusted weren't hiding the reality but rather focusing on the good and meaningful in their days with Les enfants, and I became a little tempted to give it a go. Its been ad hoc and a bit untidy, and sometimes it feels a little too narcissistic for me, but I am keen to continue and might even commit a little more in 2012 and attempt to make it look a little prettier (stay tuned).
Started working for myself: A scary move for me and one involving a steep learning curve, needless to say the concern that no one would want me to do work for them (never mind pay me), has changed to a concern of how to say 'no' and finding the right balance between my other job, my children, and me.
Went on my first child free weekend: Needless to say, it wont be my last. I remembered who 'me, myself, I' was, and I  reminded myself that I am OK, can still shake my booty, and while I still love my kids more that ever, know that I also need to see my oldest friends once a year to hug, laugh, cry  and drink champagne together in blissful un-interrupted-ness (?)
Made my first pavlova: There were not many culinary highlights in 2011, but this was one of them - chocolate Pavlova - how very Australian of me ! (Bit Ironic it's a Nigella Lawson recipe)
Drank more than 1000 cups of coffee: this is a rough estimate but it is a reality and the funny thing is every morning that first cup of coffee is a highlight for me, so it had to be in the list of highlights for 2011.
Had a night in a 5 star hotel with my partner in crime: snuck this one in right before the year's end and remembered why I find my husband funny, sexy and such good company.
Cried: About being an impatient mother, a crap partner, about delivering work that doesn't seem good enough, for friends who are not here (and never will be), for an extended family that doesn't exist, for for the struggle that many Aboriginal people face daily, and for Prince William (so happy he got that lovely bride).

I can only hope that 2012 brings as many adventures, highlights and joys and which I (and this family of four) are able to face with more courage, generosity and wisdom.