Random ramblings...

a·fi·cio·na·do

/əˌfɪʃyəˈnɑdoʊ; Spanish ɑˌfiθyɔˈnɑðɔ, ɑˌfisyɔ-/ Show Spelled [uh-fish-yuh-nah-doh; Spanish ah-fee-thyaw-nah-thaw, ah-fee-syaw-] 

noun, plural a·fi·cio·na·dos /əˌfɪʃyəˈnɑdoʊz; Spanish ɑˌfiθyɔˈnɑðɔs/ Show Spelled [uh-fish-yuh-nah-dohz;

an ardent devotee; fan, enthusiast.

I used that word in conversation yesterday. Well, I say conversation... actually, it was a text. It wasn't very well punctuated, but... Look how smart I look, using a big word (and spelling it correctly). Did I mention I had been using a dictionary all damned day at work?

I was that kid that my parents and teachers expected to amount to something great. You know - write a thesis and cure something. Or invent a new type of biodegradeable plastic and save the penguins.

 

Sadly, 'they' were wrong. All of them. I'm a very ordinary, middle-aged primary teacher.

I'm not sure what happened to my brains. Maybe motherhood? Wine? Too many thrill seeking rides in theme parks?

I think about my academic nemesis from school. He was a veritable walking encyclopaedia. I wonder if booze and babies and extreme exhaustion have made him dumb, too?!

I said to J the other day, "I used to be smart". And he smiled sadly and said, "me too, Bylla."

I'm quite sure we used to be smart. And bright. And adventurous.

We should have invented something and made our fortunes. Now we're going to have to rely on our kids to take care of us when we're old. Oh dear.

Best get back to concentrating on being a good parent.

Best tell them it's perfectly OK to be content with being ordinary.

 

You can't have it all

In the 90s I did an arts degree (journalism major). All my life I have loved to learn - especially history - and doing my degree gave me lots of opportunities to spend time pondering the past.

With Spring nearly over (only a few days left) I have been doing a spot of 'culling'. Nothing like throwing stuff out to make room for the unstoppable invasion of plastic knick knacks that attack my house each Christmas.

Going through my filing cabinet I stumbled across these assignment notes. They were from a course called Myth and Ideology and we studied Greek mythology and its impact on the world.

Now there's a fun way to blow a thousand dollars! I just loved this subject.

The premise of the assignment was Antigone encounters opposition not because she is strong minded and transgressive, but because she's a woman. How much fun I had reading the old texts and coming up with arguments to support my ideas.

Back then, I was quite the feminist. I was going to be someone. I wasn't going to let 'being a girl' get in the way of my success. I wrote for smaller newspapers and envisaged a life with a briefcase and BMW. I had planned a law degree after finishing my Arts (unless Getaway called and offered me my dream job as a location researcher).

Fast forward 16 years - here I am with a dusty briefcase under my bed, three kids arguing over who gets to shower first today and a stack of report cards to complete.

What would my younger self think? That I've failed? Like Antigone, I've been a victim of my own femininity? Would she wonder what happened?

This is what happened. I made a decision. A decision to follow my heart to a boy in a country town. I went into a job that wasn't my first preference but one I knew could make me happy. I made a decision to have children in my twenties because I knew I really wanted a family more than anything else in the world. I knew I couldn't possibly build the family I wanted and climb the career ladder at the same time (although I did try it for a bit).

Maybe other people can. I'm not saying it's impossible, I'm just saying I couldn't do it and be happy. I don't think that makes me a failure.

I'm still in contact with some people from my uni days. They're either like me - having chosen other dreams over career-success, or they're enjoying career success sans family.

If I could go back to my younger self, I'd tell her it's not important to have it all. What is important to have priorities. And do what makes you happiest.

Works for men, too. When our eldest was a baby, my husband was busy building an empire - determined to climb that career ladder all the way up. Mr Z and I watched Gilmore girls and ate steamed veges on our own every night while Daddy worked himself ragged in the office. He missed the first steps, the excitement of the first words - he missed putting that sleepy baby down for his sleep at night.

By our third child hubby had discovered that some dreams are bigger than an enormous bank balance and had changed his priorities. He downsized and even took a year working from home so that he could enjoy playing with our Small Boy while he was still an infant. He is happier than he has ever been.

Am I glad I chose family over career? Yes. I can live with not having a BMW, but I couldn't have been content without having had kids. Seeing friend struggle with infertility, I thank my lucky stars every single day for these small people who have blessed my life.

Do I wonder what my life could have been? Of course I do. But I wouldn't change it for the world. Do I feel I have failed, given that I haven't reached my career potential? No. I might not have a BMW but I do have a happy family, and I wouldn't trade it for the world.

______________________
Wondering what inspired this rant reflection? This article. It sounds like one I would have written in my early twenties. If you're on team contented is enough, read the comments. They made me smile :)

Linking up with Essentially Jess

Reading the warning signs

Interesting time at the dentist. Sigh.

Mr Z got a bit over-excited at the playground and smashed his front tooth (his adult tooth) on a concrete dolphin. As you do. Who on earth puts a CONCRETE dolphin in a playground?!

Cue panicked phone call to dentist. An after hours one. Dollars. Sigh.

Cue hurried introduction to dentist I don't know who's probably hungry and tired and just wanting to get home to his dinner.

Cue panicked 8 year old, huge injection and eyes wide open in fear (mine).

Poor Mr Z, trying hard to be brave. I'm trying hard to be brave.

Then I saw it. Something I hadn't seen in years. An odd jiggle in one of his legs.

You see, Mr Z has inherited my panic attacks. When he was small (between 18 months and the age of three) he used to have at least one, most days. He would drop to the ground, rigid with fear and start thrashing around while turning blue. Then he'd pass out, regain his colour, and go on almost as if nothing had happened. Scared the life out of me the first... I dunno... fifty times they happened. Scared a lot of innocent bystanders too!

Initially we weren't sure what they were. Were they fits? Was it asthma?

We had electrodes stuck to his head, visits to paediatricians and other people before we worked out they were panic attacks. Plain and simple. Over minor things like spilling his milk or losing his truck or stubbing his toe. Often they happened at playgroup or the shops or places he felt out of control. They were often about things I couldn't see/find/work out at the time of the attack.

We worked on relaxation techniques and a plan for when he felt 'wobbly'. I learned to watch for the signs - that restless leg, the sudden stillness - and help him to feel safe before the panic had a chance to take hold. Helping him helped me with my panic attacks, too.

So, when I saw that jiggle in his leg, in that huge dental surgery, I had a moment of panic. What if he started thrashing while that injection was going in?

I acted. I don't know whether I made the situation better or worse. I blurted, "Um... he has panic attacks! If he goes blue or starts thrashing, don't panic, he'll be fine". The dentist turned to me, with fear and perhaps anger (I'm not so good at reading people so not really sure), "Why isn't it in his file? What medication does he take? Why wasn't I told?". Of course, then Little Z did start to panic. By the time I'd mumbled something about it not being part of their form, no medication required, just calm voices and explanations about what was going to happen, he was in full twitchy glory.

I eventually calmed us both down but repeating, over and over, "We are BRAVE, Z. We are brave." I was comforting myself as well as my son.

So.... There's now a temporary cap on his tooth. It's wonky but functional. We have to wait to see if the nerve will die and then go for a more permanent solution.

Little Z seems OK about it all. Now he knows what it will feel like (both of us hate that numb feeling) and look like (injections and all) when it all happens, he says he'll be more brave next time. I believe him.

I wonder what that dentist thinks of me. Probably hysterical mother who caused her son to have a panic attack by mentioning it in the first place. But. He didn't know about the twitchy leg. He doesn't know Mr Z's signs.

I do.

Knowing you're done

The other day a colleague brought her newborn niece into our staffroom. While I watched everyone fussing over the tiny little thing I felt pangs of actual pain in my stomach. So much so I actually got up to have a chat to someone on the other side of the room just to take my mind off it all.

It was the end of a long day and I could have just gone home, but I felt a sort of internal conflict going on in my body - some sort of strange baby-magnetism kept me there, despite my feet wanting to take me elsewhere. M, a new grandmother whispered to me as she sidled past to get a closer look at the little poppet. "It's ok - we know you're a breeder," she winked conspiratorially.

It's true. I think that had I been born a hundred years ago, I would now have ten or eleven children. All driving me insane. Perhaps I may not have wanted ten offspring, but some sort of biological urge would have kept me permanently knocked-up, I am sure of it.

I know that for my circumstances, three is my absolute limit. When Small Boy was born, I wished that we had the opportunity for one more - for a little 'mate' for him to play with. I've always loved that closeness my older two share. As time has gone by, I've realised that one more would have meant that I had no time/energy to do all the things that Small Boy needs me to do for him. But part of me still wonders what just one more would have been like.

I am so lucky - THREE little children to call my own. I know I am blessed with the most amazing gifts that life can offer. I feel greedy even thinking about wanting a fourth when I know so many people are desperate to have even one.

There will be no more babies (Hubby has seen to that). I am perfectly content with my three little people who I love wildly. At least until the next little newborn visits our staffroom ;)

This is a self-portrait I took while 32 weeks pregnant

with little number 3. He was a whopper!

       

 

This is the life

I feel like a posh lady today. I'm not at work, my hair is wound into tight curls at the back of my neck and my nails are done.

This morning, I drove my kids to school and dropped them off, wiping lipstick kisses from their cheeks.

"Have a great day, I love you!" I called cheerily as I waved them off from the car park, knowing that nutritious snacks were packed away in their bags.

It's quite a departure from a normal school day, where I hurriedly put my hair in a bun, wipe any toothpaste that might be lingering on my face and literally shove small people from my car as I wrestle with the bag of marking/craft supplies/sporting attire I need for the day. Usually, Daddy has packed the lunchboxes filled with all sorts of packaged treats and a few healthy things to placate me.

Usually I'm stressed and tired and grumpy and rushing to get into work.

But today, I am on leave from work and I am going to a Melbourne Cup function. I feel like a proper lady. Later, my friend's nanny is going to drop me and a friend at the track, all frocked up in our finery. Just like Gwyneth might do. Or Madonna. Or Danni Minogue. I am so excited, I could almost pop!!!

Mind you, I've been up since the crack of dawn - nutrition-and-makeup-and-painting-of-nails-and-fancy-hairdos all take time and straighteners and that bottle of 'goddess for a day' hairspray that I finally tracked down at the bottom of a drawer. I hope I don't fall asleep after the first wine!

My makeup is probably a bit wobbly because I can't see what I'm doing without my glasses on and I realized that while dirty hair makes for easier upstyling, it also makes your greys stand out like neon lights. My dress (under $40 delivered from ebay) may have an iron mark on it, but it's hardly noticeable and I'm sure I'm going to get rained on/spill something anyway...

That sounds a bit more like me, doesn't it? I'm still in there under all this.. fancy.

Breathe in. Breathe out. This is no time for panic, self-criticism or doubt, this is MY day and I'm going to enjoy it :) And just hope nobody else is wearing their glasses, either.

The Misunderstood Child - by Kathy Winters

Love this poem. With help (and fantastic teachers), this child grows into a thinker, a doer and a generous person with a deep heart.



The Misunderstood Child

I am the child that looks healthy and fine.
I was born with ten fingers and toes.
But something is different, somewhere in my mind.
And what it is, nobody knows.
I am the child who struggles in school.
Though they say I'm perfectly smart.
They tell me I'm lazy - can learn if I try -
But I don't seem to know where to start.
I am the child that won't wear the clothes
Which hurt me or bother my feet.
I dread sudden noises, can't handle most smells,
And tastes - there are few foods I'll eat.

I am the child that can't catch the ball
And runs with an awkward gait.
I am the one chosen last on the team
And cringe as I stand there and wait.
I am the child with whom no one will play -
The one that gets bullied and teased.
I try to fit in and I want to be liked,
But nothing I do seems to please.
I am the child that tantrums and freaks
Over things that seem petty and trite.
You'll never know how I panic inside,
When I'm lost in my anger and fright.
I am the child that fidgets and squirms
Though I'm told to sit still and be good
Do you think that I choose to be out of control?
Do you think that I would if I could?
I am the child with the broken heart
Though I act like I really don't care.
Perhaps there is a reason God made me this way -
Some message he sent me to share.
For I am the child that needs to be loved
and accepted and valued too.
I am the child that is misunderstood,
I am different - but look just like you.

Kathy Winters

Facing your fears

I've always fancied being part of the chorus for a show. I love to dance and while I wouldn't say I sing well, I sing well enough to have been part of a high school choir many moons ago. It's not so much that I want to be on the stage with people staring at me, because that is, quite frankly, the stuff of my nightmares. It's more that I've wanted to feel that camaraderie that I imagine happens between the members of cast. I know - sad loser stuff... and probably too much Smash (the TV show).

 

A couple of months ago, we lost our dear old Ellie. Ellie (Elspeth) was an almost 17 year old Louchen. She was loyal, friendly, gentle, grey woolly mess and we loved her like a child. She slept on my feet every night, she sat beside me through illness and sadness - I can hardly remember being without her. Her name was among our kids' first words, she slept beside their bassinettes and followed their first steps with gentle motherly concern.

So when she left us, I was a complete and utter mess. (Ten weeks later, I'm still a bit of a mess - still looking for her in the morning, forgetting she's gone. Had to change my curtains in the front hall because it made me too sad to see them still instead of rustling with her delight at my arrival home)

Anyway, that particular week I was a real can't-go-to-work, can't-stop-crying, can't-sleep kind of mess. Such a mess, in fact, that I was convinced to audition for a local show. My sister-in-law talked me into it, "just to get you out of the house - c'mon, it'll be fun!" I went along with her imagining (as did she) that we'd just be asked to learn a dance and perform it as part of a small group. Again, probably too much Smash.

When we got there, we realised we were a little bit out of our depth. Not only did we have to do a dance, but we had to do it alone, on a stage, under a spotlight while singing. The other people had been to rehearsals. I had not. And... I felt stupid when I stopped to think about it - I was auditioning for the CHORUS, of course they wanted to hear me sing. Aloud. Alone. In public. Something other than the national anthem.

I considered walking straight out. I joked that we could go to McCafe for cappuccinos and just tell our families that we auditioned... I think I had SIL almost in agreement... but then I thought about what I would tell my daughter if she was in the same situation and feeling doubt.

Who cares if they hear you sing? Who cares that you're gonna stuff it up? Who cares that it's you, all alone in the spotlight, singing and dancing for strangers? When will you ever get this opportunity again? Just do your best, pat yourself on the back for your bravery and walk away with your head held high.

So I did. It was terrifying. It was terrible. It was just what I needed to feel a little bit alive.

Last Friday night I went to see the show - it was absolutely amazing. I enjoyed it and I enjoyed the feeling of having dodged a bullet. What if I had got in?! I would have looked ridiculous in the chorus, and my voice would certainly not have complemented the rest of the cast. I was so glad not to have been the liability on that stage on Friday night! But I was proud of myself for taking the plunge.

So that's something I can cross off my list: Audition for a stage show. Hmm... what shall I do next?

Christmas shopping ideas

I both love and loathe Christmas shopping. I love the presents that are easy to buy - the ones that seem to jump off the shelf in your direction screaming, "This is so (insert friend/relatives name here)!" It's the other half of the gifts that get me down - the ones you seem to spend the weeks up to Christmas stressing over. They also seem to be the more expensive gifts and I'm usually not quite what the recipient had in mind.

Each year, my shopping list seems to get longer - with the birth of new nieces and nephews and the introduction of special people I want to thank. I like to space the buying throughout the year if possible, lessen the Christmas 'crunch'.

Yes... it IS all extremely colour co-ordinated! Two colours per year, that's our rule!

If you think that's a bit weird, you should see my clothes line!

 

This year, I'm being proactive. I bought all the gifts that screamed at me from the shelf. Specialty board games, concert DVDs, cute clothing for my nieces, toys and funny books.  Then I bought a bunch of other gifts that would be cool 'just in case' gifts - a sort of one-size-fits-most for gifts:

* Recipe book
* Gum ball machine (although the kids found this and have declared it a family appliance)
* A reasonable chick-lit (Jane Green or something equally crowd-pleasing)
* Pretty glassware
* Long handled ice-cream spoons in a bigger box (waiting for me to add sprinkles, crushed nuts and two bottles of flavoured topping)
* Pretty brooch
* Assorted jewelry

Then I made a list of things I could buy 'last-minute' if necessary

* Movie vouchers
* iTunes voucher
* Restaurant voucher
* Bowling voucher
* Coffee voucher

And a list of experiences to somehow gift-wrap

* Trip to the driving range with one bucket of golf-balls
* An afternoon of kite flying (along with a kite)
* An afternoon chatting on the beach (complete with bottle of wine and a voucher for a kilo of prawns) - I'll admit, this is probably a gift to myself as well as my friend!

I wish I could cook confidently enough to offer a Mexican feast as a gift. Or if I was better with contact maybe offer to cover one kids' books!

Anyone have any ideas to add to the list?

I'm seriously hoping to avoid the Christmas panic this December. Now I've just got to work out who gets what... and where I've hidden all the gifts!


Linking up with Essentially Jess - IBOT. Trying to make it a habit. Apologies for the 'nothing' sort of post!!! Will start thinking about next Tuesday's post right away!