It's in the genes!

As a teenage girl, I don't think I was all that bad. And by that statement, I mean I never drank or experimented with drugs, or had wild boyfriends or anything. I'm sure I was still a bit of a nightmare for my mother, arguing and answering back. I remember my exasperated Mum telling me many times, "You always have to have the last word!" (Also, I'm pretty sure my husband is nodding fervently in agreement.) Now here I am, ten years later, with three children who share my DNA. Yes, uh-oh!

I am now working with my five year old son on "answering back". Of course, to a small child, what does that mean? He looked at me blankly, and said very sincerely,"Why not?" I could picture what was going on in his head- questions are for answering, but if you answer then it's rude...? I think I have educated him now and he understands that the correct answer is something like "Yes Mummy, right away Mummy." Now I just have to remind him about eight times a day.

Then there are other situations when he doesn't understand the socially accepted 'rules' about manners and speaking to people. Like "Mummy, go away." Corrected to "Mummy, go away PLEASE." Ah. Much better.

My three and a half year old daughter has a similar tendency. She must have overheard me reading to her brother about different animal families, e.g. crustaceans, molluscs. She pulled out The Lion King book for me to read to her and said,"What family is this?" I paused for a second and said,"Well, animals that are a bit the same are in the same family. Animals that can lay eggs are in the same animal family. Lions and tigers and cats and..." as she held the book up to me and interrupted with "Read now." So patient, that one.

What hope is there for number three? Her favourite word is 'no'. And not just 'no', more like 'NONONONONONONONONOOOOOOO!" which roughly translates into, Touch my stuff and I will beat you with it.

Luckily they do have a few redeeming qualities. I do quite like the way that my 18 month old is quick to comfort and cuddle her crying siblings, even if the reason they are crying is because she belted them in the face with a drink bottle. And the way that my three and a half year old brings out dummies and toys to share with her little sister. And especially the way my five year old takes every opportunity to compliment his sisters ("You look beauuuuutiful, Isabel!")

All in all they're pretty good :)

"Hello, sexy!"

Over the last year or so, since Jack has started attending school, he has come home with some choice phrases. "YOU'RE NOT MY FRIEND ANYMORE!!" is often used when as parents we stand by any rule, typically followed by "You're not coming to my birthday party!!" (Fine, have fun at this 'party' of yours...)

Then there are some less common ones, like "What the HACK???" (Admittedly, it could be worse.) And the most recent. "Mummy, Dylan says to me 'Hello, sexy' and it's soooo funny!" Jack mentioned this as the whole family was in the car, driving Daddy to work. Dave and I exchanged glances, both of us clearly unsure how (or if?) to proceed. I wasn't sure if this was something that should be discussed, or simply better ignored, after all he is only four.

Jack said it again,"Hello, sexy!" and exploded into fits of laughter.

So I said,"Jack, do you know what 'sexy' means?"

"No."

"Do you think you should say 'sexy' if you don't know what it means?"

And then the obvious moment I walked right into.

"What does sexy mean?"

I caught Dave's eye again, this time I'm pretty sure my eyes were saying HELP ME, but of course there was absolute silence from his side of the car.

"Sexy is something for adults. So you don't need to worry about it now."

Now imagine more silence, and more worried facial expressions at Dave.

And that was it! So now, I don't know that I actually accomplished what I intended, and I don't know what exactly I intended to accomplish, and I don't know if this will come up again. And if it does, I still don't have a better answer. My best answer is "I'll tell you when you're older!"

And if all else fails, there are still two other kids.

If you knew Jessie like I know Jessie

A few days ago, I received a text around 7am. It was a picture message from my Dad- he still can’t remember that I can’t get pictures on my phone. I wondered what it was of- probably he’d done something funny with his hair and felt like sharing it. Sounds like something Dad would do!

But a few minutes later, my Mum called. She sounded like she was crying. “I have some bad news,” she said, and immediately she had my full attention and my mind was running wild at the possibilities.

It turned out, that Jessie, the golden retriever my family got when I was eleven, was going to be put down today. Given that I’m now twenty-six, she lived to be 15 years old, which is pretty good for a golden retriever, so I hear. Her health had been deteriorating for awhile now, and she’d been quite sick that night, so Mum and Dad had decided it was time.

I quickly packed up the kids and made the drive to Perth to say goodbye. I explained to the kids what was going on, and tried to prepare them for what could be an emotional time ahead, for the adults anyway.

I tried to reassure Jack that despite my tears, Jessie going to heaven was a good thing. She was old and tired, and her body wasn’t working properly anymore. She would go to heaven, and she would be perfect and young and happy. “Mummy and Grandma and Poppy are sad because we will miss Jess. But we know that one day we will see her again.”

Jack looked at me with wide eyes. “Yeah, cos Grandma and Poppy will see her again in heaven soon.” Calm down kid, they are only in their fifties!

It was hard to see Jess. One by one, so as not to overwhelm her, I took each child outside to the cool shadey spot where Jessie was laying. They gave her a little pat and sat quietly with her. Jessie was struggling to breathe and tried to lift her head to look at us but it was too hard.

I think after awhile Jack started to pick up on the emotion and tears from my parents, my brother and myself, and it worried him a little, to see the adults crying. He told me, ”I’m a bit sad,” and asked, ”Why does Jessie have to die now?”

I sat him down with me and I told him, “Jessie has finished everything she needed to do while she was alive. She did lots of fun things didn’t she?” And we remembered some of the fun things Jessie had done over the years- like going to the beach, the park, on lots of walks, how my younger sister and I used to walk to the local shop with her and buy three chocolate Billabongs (one for each of us) and the time Mum taught her to swim in the lake at my Nan’s farm, and Dad kept trying to get the perfect picture…and how just as the roll of film finished and started to rewind, Jessie hopped on top of the floating raft and posed beautifully.

And let’s not forget all the jokes from my Dad about Jess being his “favourite blonde” (too bad, sis!) and all the little songs he made up and used to sing to her while feeding her her vegemite toast.

We accompanied my parents to the Vets’. Was it a bad idea with the kids? Maybe, but I really wanted to be there and had no other choice. I just wanted to say a last goodbye and then sit with Jack, Isabel and Sophia in the waiting room while Mum and Dad went with Jess. Maybe as a support for them when they came back.

Dad carried Jess inside. We went into the small room where the table was. Dad prepared to lay her down, but then Jess made a strange noise and her eyes seemed to just stare blankly ahead. “I think she’s gone,” my Mum said quietly.

The Vet soon came in and checked for a heartbeat. She was gone. Our Jess had come this far and held on for every second that she was in my Dad’s arms, and then she had let go. She was a true friend until the very end.

That awkward moment when your child calls your bluff

Hi there! I'm back from my holiday, settling into my new place slowly, and ready to blog some more. The kids are getting used to the new house, the backyard seems much more interesting and they have new, exciting bedrooms to destroy (I give them about 8 days.)

Moving house really disrupted their routine, as it tends to do when all of your things are in a box, and you suddenly live in a different town. Jack and Isabel have shared a room for maybe a year, and never been fantastic at going to sleep at night from toddlerhood up, but in a fresh house, they seem to have renewed energy levels for playing up at nighttime. In the past, we locked their doors with an extension cord- but then I kept needing to use an extension cord for things, so we progressed to a door lock fashioned out of some of Dave's old ties. This way, they can't come out of their room and eventually seem to give up and go to sleep.

In our new house, though, we have no tie-lock, unless I put it in a special box for weapons- to -use- on- children when we were packing, and haven't found it yet. So every five minutes, either Dave or myself bursts into their room with the usual "What's going on!? Back to bed. Blah blah. Random threat." After doing this for awhile, you quickly begin to realize if you have to go in every five minutes, what you are doing is not effective! Smacking bottoms- not working. Threats to take toys away for a whole day- not imminent, therefore not working. I'm tired and my brain is fried...I ran out of ideas. But then...

I burst into their room. (Using 'stern' voice...)"If I catch either of you out of bed or calling out AGAIN, you will go and sleep in the shed. Do you understand!??" They look at me with wide eyes and say "Yes Mummy," and I leave the room, satisfied that surely this time I have gotten through to them.

About 2 minutes later, almost on cue, it starts up again. Right! "Time to go to the shed." Jack panics. "No I'll be good! I'll stay in my bed!" and pulls his blanket up protectively. I reach out for Isabel and she quietly and compliantly takes my hand and follows me. "I like sleeping in the shed," she assures me," cos I'm brave."

Aww, crap.

I keep leading her to outside. "You know it's very dark in the shed".

"Yeah."

"And you'll be all by yourself."

"Yeah."

I know, here I am helping my child develop a phobia of the shed. Gold star for Mummy.

So I just keep marching her to the shed, pretending I, and not my three year old daughter, am in control. I will not lose to a three year old. I refuse. Must....save...face...

We get to the shed and I open it up. I look around and wonder what I actually expected her to do in there. Oh well, keep acting, can't show weakness. "Lie down,"I instruct her, and she obediently lies down on the concrete. I can't believe how pathetic this is. "Good night." I walk out the door leaving it open, and go back inside to sit down with my husband who has just witnessed my embarrassment. And now I wait.

Luckily for me, within a few minutes, Isabel returns and announces she is ready to stay in her bed, giving me an out. (YES!) So keeping up the stern facade, I escort her back to her bed.

And you know what? They both went to sleep without any more trouble. Dave thinks this is pure coincidence. I have no comment.

If I was a rich girl

Remember how when you were younger and in love, and you had this romantic notion that you didn't need anything else as long as you could just be together? That money wasn't important, and the only thing that really mattered was your love?

This is a rumour spread by poor people to make themselves feel better. I know this because I am a poor person who spreads rumours like this to make myself feel better.

I remember sitting on the old, torn couch at my husband's place, The Boys House, when we were seriously considering getting married, as we did the sums to work out how we could balance full-time university, part time jobs, and Centrelink allowances. I thought, 'Wow, Centrelink! We're rich!' HA. So naive. We were married and found a rental unit in Scarborough that were among the few that we could afford. We actually have a lot of fond memories of living there, across the road from the beach, sleeping on our mattress with our blanket. My husband loved that he could check the surf from our bed, and decide if it was worth it or not. (It usually was.) We would go for early morning dips and walk around Scarborough at night. We loved the feel of the area, kind of old, but with the beach vibe, despite some "scumminess", which came in the form of our neighbours. They spent their days drinking, not wearing shirts and having noisy, violent fights, with at least one involving a woman being beaten. The police visited often. At this point early on in our marriage money was very tight. (Still is!) I would spend $40 a week on groceries.

Back to that idea of "all we need is each other"- when you can't afford decent shampoo or to get your hair done or you legs waxed, you can begin to question some of these things! Financial hardship can be quite a strain. Last time I went to get some waxing done, my beauty therapist said, "It's been awhile, it's been four months!" And I said "Yes, it feels like four months..." based on scary high levels of hairiness I had been exhibiting.

This week our family car died. It is the sixth car we have had as a married couple, and we have not yet been married for six whole years. This is because we have only been able to spend a very small amount of money on a car, so we buy a bomb, then soon enough it requires thousands of dollars of work which we can't afford, or it gets a yellow sticker, or it dies. How much easier (or less complicated) would life be if we were wealthier? I wouldn't be leaving the car at the gym because it won't open and we couldn't afford to replace the central locking system. I wouldn't spend so much time pushing 3 kids around in a pram meant for two. And our car wouldn't break down late at night on a completely dark country road in the middle of nowhere when I have about $2 credit on my phone. Actually, if I was rich, I would have enough phone credit. Maybe my husband would have a pair of pants without a sizeable hole in the crotch (he calls these his "air conditioned pants"), or I could afford clothing that fits and was not previously thrown away by someone else.

After this last week of car trouble, my frustration has nearly reached boiling point. I have, however, started looking at the situation from a different perspective however. While it seems natural to say "Why me???" or wonder when thinks are going to start going right, I have tried to stop seeing the glaringly obvious negative, and start seeing some potential positives.

The other night when my car broke down, I honestly had to laugh, it just seemed so ridiculous, and also somewhat like an urban legend. I was thinking about how I was driving, singing along to The Fray (my husband hates them soooo much, haha) and the radio just cut out. I was concerned, but hoped maybe it was just an electrical problem (because that's so much better). Then I started to wonder, 'Are the lights always this dim?' And that's when I thought, 'Oh dear, my battery is going to die...please let me make it to my destination FIRST and not on this quiet scary dark part of Gnangara road!' Very soon after, my lights went off and it was pitch black, and I swerved off the road because I literally could not see. I am getting to my point now. It occurred to me that while I was aware only of the difficulties my family had been facing, I hadn't been paying attention to the blessings and the good things we have. When my lights went out and I swerved, things could have ended very differently. Maybe the blessing here was that while inconvenienced, I was perfectly safe. I imagine if I had been seriously hurt, I would have wished and prayed for these circumstances which I did find myself in.

As for being poor, I am pretty tired of it. I think I am an expert and having achieved expert level status I should be allowed to move up. But if the alternative to this would have been to delay getting married, or having children, and finding full-time work so we would be a double income family, I would still choose this. All my happiness comes from my family. They make my life worth living. For them, I will continue to endure life as a hairy badly groomed 25 year old. Still waiting to see if I have any long-lost wealthy ninety year old relatives though.

You are unique, just like everybody else!

That was then.

This is now!

NOW I actually have a desire for real health, despite what my weight or dress size is, or how I look. I am done wasting my time feeling not good enough. This doesn't mean I am giving in to my appetite, and "letting myself go". It means I am going to start being kind to myself. This includes:

• Aiming to do 1-2 sessions of strength training (weights) a week (I actually quite enjoy this)
• Challenging myself by starting to run! I have never been able to just run without stopping before, and two weeks ago I started, I pushed myself, and now I am able to run 4km in 27 minutes (not that fast but not the point). The point is I am trying to improve my cardiovascular fitness in a new way. I would like to do this twice a week.
• Going to bed earlier, getting enough sleep.
• Having a balanced diet. I am not ruling out food groups or counting calories, I am just trying to be sensible.
• Contemplating putting my scales away...this is hard...but seriously contemplating. This way my happiness does not depend on a number on a scale.
• Reminding myself that I am beautiful just the way my Heavenly Father intended me to be. He gave me a functional body to house my spirit and I should be striving for health so I can look after that body. This doesn't mean that I don't care about my appearance any more and I can just become obese- my body, properly taken care of, should be of a healthy weight.
• And of course, the most important (saved for last)- remembering that what I look like is not even the point! Yes, I am a 25 year old girl who is not going to rid herself of vanity completely, but I am a worthwhile human being, regardless of my appearance! I have a lot to offer and a lot to accomplish.

I am still someone who will be always striving for growth and improvement, and I have a lot still to learn. However, now I will not be wasting my time and energy on negative thoughts or things that will pull me down. I have to spend my energy on things that are of more significance...like my family!

Speaking of my family, I am going to stop modeling a poor self image that my children will start to become aware of. I will start to demonstrate healthy self esteem, and teach them that they are special and unique. We are all children of a loving Heavenly Father. Every one of us has immeasurable value.