I once had a mentor who... (every day in May)

Someone asked me once how I managed to get so far with my education, how I managed to juggle  so many things going on along the way. Really I think they were asking me was, "Just what sort of crazy are you?"*.

It's in the people who walked ahead in my journey, shining the light so I could see where I was going. My teachers.

I had my robes sent up so I could graduate in our

home town. My J took this photo, it was the day

we announced our engagement. 

I learned that a lady can have grace and style even with a greying bun from Mrs H my French teacher. She always wore beautiful clothes and stockings on her tall, willowy frame. She was obviously very intelligent, well-travelled and while very strict she had kind eyes. Even though it was clear she didn't spend any time pampering herself in the hair and makeup department, she always looked a picture of class. Of course, living in a small country town, I also caught the odd glimpse of her in her downtime - in gardening clothes or in civvies with her son. But she turned on that air of grace and style for us rowdy teenagers every single day without fail.

My caregroup (homeroom) teacher was Miss B. She was the opposite of Mrs H. Always beautifully coiffed, but more compact. She was someone even those of us who were vertically challenged could talk with, eye to eye. Even though (at that stage) she had no children of her own, she was so very motherly. Even though she was often surrounded by lunatics and bad tempers, she was always so sweet, always listening with a gentle smile. Her words of encouragement went a really long way.

And while there were many other teachers who left an indelible mark on my life and character, my third greatest influence was my mentor teacher as a prac student - J. She looked more like a mad scientist than teacher. She had paint on her clothes and told stories of capturing lost chicken in her backyard. She taught me to help others to see the world. To open the pages of history books to fun and excitement. She showed me that on the inside, all small humans really want to do is learn.

I often think of these gorgeous ladies as I put on my teaching 'costume' - dresses, sensible shoes and stockings and head out to my day job. I think of them as I thank small people for their generous gift of a weed or a rock. I try to channel their patience as I hear my exuberant students tell me their stories or ask for my help. I try to remember that teachers can inspire and guide in more than just the three Rs.

I want to be, for someone else, who they were to me.

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** I completely self-supported myself through two degrees between the ages of 17 and 21. There was a bit of a crazy overlap where I did two years simultaneously!!! Ugh. Eight subjects and work. I shudder at the thought. It's all just a blur of books and loans and bars and tips and broken down cars and customer service roles in supermarkets. 

Why?! Well, I'm a bit hyperactive, I dream big and figure I'll work out the fine details along the way (the kids have almost broken me of that one)... and basically I needed the money. I knew I couldn't survive on two minute noodles and paying the minimum on my credit card every month forever. 

It was a risk. I took it. I didn't fail due to sheer luck and determination and some lovely people who cheered me from the sidelines. I honestly think I owe it to my teachers, armed with their 'Girls Can Do Anything' stickers who made me believe it was all very possible. And because I believed I was going to make it, of course I did! 

In ten years I will be... (every day in May)

You know what? I don't want to play this one. Life is so unpredictable and I want to live in the moment.

In ten years I hope I will be:
ten years older
more patient and wise
happy and healthy

That's it. I'm a pretty lucky girl these days - a patient and loving husband, three beautiful children, a paying job and a comfortable (if slightly decrepit) house. I don't feel I can ask for much more!

On a side note, I went to an arts professional development this evening. The 'Art lady' was going around examining everyone's work

"Lovely!"

"Wow, I like the way you've made those colours pop!"

"Look at that - beautiful"

Then she got to me. Do you know what she said to me?

"Oooh, looks like you're enjoying those pencils!"

Ha!

My zodiac sign and my thoughts on star signs (every day in May)

I don't believe in horoscopes of the daily kind, but I do think that like all things in nature, people are patterned.

Why is it that all Virgos seem to know where their keys are at all times? Why are Aquarians the most fun to get drunk?

I'm a Leo. I kinda fit the mould there - hair that can't be tamed and a bark that's worse than my bite. I hold grudges fiercely, for about five minutes, then I give up. Life's too short.

I guess you could say I'm loyal - I still ring (fairly regularly) the friend I've had since I was nine, despite the fact we've live thousands of kilometres apart for nigh on twenty years and we are about as alike as chalk and cheese.

I rue the fact that I'm a bit melodramatic (I try not to be - it just kinda happens before I've realised it), I'm ok with being stubborn because it's got me places in life.

I've always been ambitious, people tell me I'm generous and encouraging (not really sure on that but I guess those words ARE in my job description).

I was all those things before I knew what a star sign was. Coming from a fairly strict religious background, any mention of these sort of things would earn you a stern talking to and a Bible verse. So I don't think I've grown into my star sign. I really think all these traits have been in me since birth.

Because I'm a fairly logical person, I've tried to work out why it is that people seem to match their star sign. When I had my babies I wondered whether it was because Leo babies, born into snuggly Winter, got more contact with their parents who cuddled them like wriggly hot water bottles. But then, that theory doesn't hold true for people born into the Summer of the northern hemisphere.

It's all a bit of mystery. I get tired just thinking about it!!!

Yes, I realise this is the ugliest picture of a lion ever, but my sister doesn't read this blog to hack on me about it, it was free clipart available here and it looked so pathetic I thought it needed to be here. If I am a lion, I'm hardly the majestic type roaming the countryside eating at will. I'm more likely to be limping around with prickles in my fur, which is probably greying and falling out in handfuls! Someone hand that poor lion some hot-rollers and something tasty to eat - pronto!

My earliest memory - every day in May

Sometimes I wonder if my kids' memories are real or if they have been forged by looking at lots of photos while we reminisce around the dinner table (our family PC is in the kitchen and our screensaver is a slideshow of the tens of thousands of photos we have stored on our computers).

Me and my daughter wrestling in the yard. Photo taken by my then-two year old. 

My parents only had a polaroid camera for my early years, and even it didn't often have a cartridge, so I'm pretty sure that my early memories are all my own.

My earliest memories are from the time my mum, younger sister and I flew to Wales to celebrate my maternal grandparents weddings. It was nice of them to hold them so close together so we could attend, wasn't it!

My memories are patchy and sort of hazy. I remember the feelings, more than the actual dialogue that went with the events. I can remember hugging my dad and looking up into the night sky in a big white place. I knew I was going up into the night sky and I was excited.

We always went outdoors to look at the moon, my Dad and I. I'm told he worked away a lot, but when he was home he would take me outdoors before sending me to bed with his beloved 'Taf' the dog to guard me while I slept. I do remember Taffy making me feel braver about the wallpaper that loomed over my bed. Whose bright idea was it to include the big bad wolf in a montage of fairytales and nursery rhymes, anyway?!

The second part of the memory is sitting in a big chair with a tray table before me. On it - a glass of orange juice and my 'pet koala' Charlie*. Charlie used to go everywhere with me. He is looking decidedly threadbare these days (and he smells funny) so he is carefully stored in a tub in the shed for posterity. I can remember feeling proud in that big blue chair (I think it was vinyl), because a 'smart lady' was talking to me.

The third part of the memory is crying in a bush. I'd lost the ring my aunt had given me for my birthday and I was looking for it. I was two.

Having mothered three little two year olds, I find it fascinating that I could possibly remember something from that long ago (particularly given that I usually can't remember where I left my keys) but I'm beyond certain that they are real memories.

I think perhaps they made it to long-term memory because they came at such an important time in my life - a time of confusion and change. People making a big fuss of me (I'm the oldest cousin, daughter of the youngest in the family, the only toddler at those big occasions). I had an inflated sense of self and self-importance, that didn't happen so often when I was a kid.

Makes me wonder what my kids will remember from their childhood?

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*Ha! Just realised that I called my latest fur-baby Charli!

Changing Tracks (every day in May)

You really know you're old when you can sing all the words to every song on Coles radio and you don't even work there.

Recently, in aisle five, I had a bit of a moment. A song came on and I flashed back to the late nineties, imagining my pre-kid, pre-serious-career, pre-adult life.

Most of the songs I love from the nineties are pretty sad. Think Lisa Loeb, REM, U2, The Verve. It was a pretty sad time for me - I had a lot going on in the nineties and for much of it I was pretty much alone. As in literally. Not just locked up in my bedroom like a normal teenager but actually out on my own, feeling a bit lost and orphaned. Stony broke, hungry and if my flatmate had forgotten to pay the electricity again, often in the dark. I'm still not sure how he forgot so often - he worked at the post office!

This song, however, is a bright sliver of happiness from *my* nineties. It's from the 'good end' of the decade. It came out at a point in time where I had sort of worked out who I was and who I wanted to be. Sure, I'd made some fairly hefty mistakes, but in amongst that world of hurt, I'd also worked out some direction. I was working hard toward my goal and I had a plan. Not to mention a beautiful person who loved me despite the scrappy, prickly exterior I was currently sporting (and who's still here today, probably still removing my barbs from his gorgeous self).

 

Bachelor Girl: Lucky me.

When you start by counting your blessings, things seem a lot brighter.

"I have a great car, it's a red convertible... made by Mattel.."

This song reminded me that things don't have to be perfect for you to feel ok every single time I played it in my crappy old Honda. It was a Civic just a few years off vintage - close enough that I often had to retrace my steps looking for bits of my exhaust but not close enough that I could claim cheaper rego. I had a screwdriver jammed into the window to keep the glass from falling down. Sometimes, when it rained, mushrooms would pop up in the old carpet in my boot.

But you know what? It was mine and I was happy. My life was (and always will be) a crazy work in progress and I was (and am) determined to find the silver lining in every insanity it brings my way. Lucky me, indeed!

My favourite movie

I used to love Love Actually. It seemed so romantic and clever... but then I guess I grew up. I realised that all the parts I thought were sweet are actually a bit creepy and all the parts that used to shock me no longer hold shock value. I've seen some stuff since I turned thirty and it's changed my perspective.

I recently saw The Secret Life of Walter Mitty and it absolutely captivated me. I think it was the combination of beautiful scenery and Ben Stiller. I've had such a thing for him ever since Reality Bites. I know we weren't supposed to like him much in that movie, but I always felt he was the better option for poor deluded Winona.

credit

While I've given up any dreams of the kind of travel that would let me climb volcanoes or cycle along highways in the foreseeable future, I still allow myself the odd fantasy that I really could abseil down a glacier or something if I really wanted to (and won the lottery). I think it helped that I saw the movie in the wide open town theatre (instead of the more modern cinema complex), more or less all alone with the aircon blaring the heat of the Summer evening away. It felt like being somewhere else, far away from my everyday life.

Finding out this was a remake of a Danny Kaye movie, I felt an even deeper appreciation for the level of escape this movie afforded. As a kid, living in a communal living situation, the Danny Kaye movies that screened most afternoons were an escape from the depressing boarding house we escaped to each night.

I liked everything about the movie. I liked the slow pace, the dialogue, the fantasy scenes, the music. I liked it so much, I learned to play Space Oddity on my ukulele just so I could relive the feeling over again. I don't look anywhere near as good as Kristen Wiig doing it, but it is so fun to rock out with David Bowie again after a thirty year hiatus. Kind of feels like reliving a childhood fantasy.

Can't wait to watch it with my kids.

Also linking up with Maxabella Loves at Weekend Rewind

My day in exactly 100 words

Day off.

Woken - pinch and punch! Found coffee, lunchboxes. Milo and Belvita biscuits –better than Fruit Loops? Sigh.

School drop. Treat – breakfast with dear friend. Giggles, frowns, plans.

Shop! Work dress, fun dress. Bargain – hooray!

Pick up small child. Speech therapy across town.

Home – lunch. Dog fetch, child slide - photograph play.

Big kids back from school. Homework, referee.

Remember looming presentation. Panic. Search for notes. Feels like Cluedo for the insane. Found – with cookbooks in car boot (who’d have guessed?)

Coffee, TV.

Peeling, slicing, baking – hearty dinner with the family.

Watch HIMYM finale in bed. No doubt cry.