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Welcome to our home page. Here you will find travel tips, ticket information, family photos, blogs, and our handy dandy guest calendar. We hope one day to see you Down Under!
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Monday, May 4, 2009
There and Back Again - A Pasley Tale
It was stunning. The rolling hills of emerald green spackled with gum trees and other botanical formations unknown to the people of America. Livestock, and foreign birds sang in foreign tongues. Golden light poured over the landscape like a warm blanket. And in the distance, the Tasman Sea, lapped wildly against cliffs unseen.
T’was my turn to drive but my heart and mind were laid waste by what I had just witnessed. I pulled back onto the winding road and drove…and drove…and drove, occasionally staring into the eyes of my beloved spouse…the one whose hard work and adventurous spirit led us to this distant land…this….
“Hey honey, look at that truck. What an idiot. He’s in my….lane…..”
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” I screamed and swerved frantically into the left lane, the correct lane, without regard for other motorists. I was too stunned by my own failure. How could I do such a thing? I’m no tourist. I am an Australian Resident for crying out loud. I know who Kevin Rudd and Malcolm Turnbull are. I drink tea and throw trash in the rubbish bin. I like beetroot on hamburgers and I am no longer confused when people say “Ta” instead of thank you. I have no right to make mistakes of such magnitude.
But hey, my passenger, Captain America, didn’t exactly steer me in the right direction either.
Word of the Day: trucky - A driver of trucks. A blokey type.
Poll: Have you had a run in with a trucky?
Trivia: Kevin Rudd is the Prime Minister of Australia and Malcom Turnbull is the leader of the opposition party. This position was at one time held by Brenden Nelson.
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Family Fun Fact: The story above is a small snippet of our Great Ocean Road Adventure which included an RV, much driving, staggering scenery, bird sized moths, wild koalas and kangaroos,bush rats, Jedi navigating, late nights, early mornings, coffee with Baileys, excited kids and much fun. We journeyed from Sydney to Melbourne to Port Fairy and back again. I love my family.
Doctors, Dentists and Chiropractors...An International Problem.
November 14, 2008 - Friday
 | Doctors, Dentists and Chiropractors always make you feel like a liar. They don't mean to. I think they are just trying to help, but somehow, I always end up feeling like a fraud. Let's start with Chiropractors (Aussie translation: Kiros) For some reason, the minute I hit the waiting room I immediately feel much better. This makes it difficult to describe "the problem". To make things worse they will inevitably ask questions like, "Does it hurt when I do this?" or "Does it feel better when I do that?" I feel like I'm being pulled over. "Do you know how fast you were going?" "Yes, I mean...no, I mean...yes, I mean...no!" I should know, but somehow when faced with such questions I become nervous and confused. A wrong answer may lead to a the wrong diagnosis. Usually, the answer is somewhere in between. , but I was already on the mend the minute I walked through your jedi doors. This uncertainty might have something to do with the fact that I am skeptical of Chiropractors in general. I will admit, I have been helped in the past by said Kiros and their voodoo magic , but I just wonder...have they ever met anyone who didn't have a subluxation? Does anyone have a luxation? I'm just wondering, because everyone I know seems to have this condition. I digress. CONFESSION: *At my Senior Dinner in 1996 there was a hypnotist. He picked me out of the audience of 300 or so to participate in his crooked demonstration. I don't know why I went along with it in the first place, but I did. He had us believing (pretending) we were freezing cold and affectionate. I felt neither cold nor affectionate, but still I shivered and hugged Dan Barr who sat next to me faking it as well. The Hypnotist or "Hypno", as the Aussie's probably would say, said that I would "wake up" and sing the Alma Mater. The irony being I was probably the only one in the class that knew the song since my Grandma Mimi wrote it. So I did it. I sang it. I shouldn't have, but I didn't want the Hypno to be made a fool. I couldn't let him down, and yet, I felt I let my classmates down by pretending I was indeed hypnotized. I suck. Forgive me Class of 96'. I lied to you. I was not hypnotized' just suckered into being a fraud by a fraud. You didn't deserve it and I am sorry. Now let's talk doctors: Why must they use the 1-10 pain scale? You know the one I am talking about. What is that? I pushed a baby the size of a watermelon out of an orifice the size of a grape without medication. That was a a big fat 10 yo! This here back pain, is a 2 compared to that action. But compared with how I felt two days ago, it's a solid 7. A young woman who has never pushed a human being out of her vagina, might call it a 9. It is a worthless question. Ask me something else. Or better yet, run some tests. Unfortunately, although Australia has universal medical care, it is decisively less thorough. No tests. Usually, I diagnose myself. "I think I have a sinus infection." "You do appear stuffy. Have some penicilin." To acquire pain medication however, you must say the alphabet backwards while playing the recorder and screaming in agony. I guess they think since codeine can be purchased over the counter I should just shut up and be grateful (which I am most of the time.) Dentists might be the worst. They are like a scorned nanny. "HAVE YOU BEEN FLOSSING???!!!!!" "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I will try harder. I will use rope next time, I swear!" Thank God Jesus was a carpenter and not a dentist. Poll 1: What is the worst physical pain you have ever experienced? Do you feel the need to share said pain with your doctor so he can adjust his scale appropriately? Talking about it is the first step toward dealing with this international problem. Poll 2: How do you feel about Chiropractors? Do you have a subluxation? Trivia: ( I will insert a factoid in the morning...must sleep now.) Words of the day: Straight Away: As soon as possible. Quack: Bad Doctor I am off to the Quack straight away! Family Fun Fact: I am a hypochondriac. I always think I am dying. Usually for good reason, but still. I would like to become less dramatic internally. Say a prayer for me if I come to mind, that I will be at peace, and not afraid of pulmonary embolism, and various & sundry cancers. I long to be free from fear. And I know of only One who can deliver me. Thanks!!! |
Little Bird
November 6, 2008 - Thursday
| I was not anticipating this level of emotion. It's just kindergarten. It's not like I am sending her to Nam. She will be fine. I will be fine. I think. I attended the Roseville Public Kindergarten Orientation tonight. I was greeted with a "cuppa" tea, various dessert trays and the Roseville Public Concert Band practicing "Our House". The poor little drummer was an emotional wreck. I could tell he was struggling rhythmically on the verses so I told him he rocked. He got tears in his eyes and mouthed to his father, "I don't want to play!" My encouragement actually made the situation worse. Lesson 1: Discourage Kenna from playing drums in the Roseville Band. Emotional damage may ensue. I found a seat adjacent to the other mums from pre school and the band begin "Our House"; this time for real. I could not help but sway and sing a line or two. Some of my enthusiasm was intended to mend my broken relationship with the fragile drummer. I thought maybe if he saw me getting down to his music he would no longer hate me. When the song ended I even let out an emphatic "woohoo". Evidently, Australians typically save that sort of fanfare for footy, because I was the only one vocalizing during the applause. He never did smile at me. Lesson 2: Kid Drummers are jerks. The rest of the evening was not far from what you would expect in the States; apart from the discussion of canteen duty (the parents voluntarily run the hot lunch program) and the uniform purchasing tutorial. I think I became visibly confused during this portion of the evening. It may have been my passive aggressive way of protesting the fees imposed, or maybe I was trying too hard to be the interesting foreign woman. Whatever my motive, it was a clear moment of cultural disconnect. For example: What is a jumper? (Hint: It is not a dress). Answer: A Jacket. What is an excursion bag? Answer: A bag used on excursions, a.k.a. field trips. The excursion bag is actually one of four different carrying devices you are asked to purchase. How exactly is Kenna going to negotiate these bags…she's like 3 feet tall? Crazy Australians. Lesson 3: Start making Kenna carry around as many bags as possible. That way she will be confident in her bag handling skills when school begins. Total Cost of school cosi (translation: costume)-$200 Total Cost of Bags-$100 Total Cost of Accessories: $25 Total Cost of Public School tuition for expats: $4,500 Seeing my baby leave the nest in her little school uniform:- Priceless Words of the Day: · Ankle Biter: Children By Jingoes: Surprise By Jingoes! My ankle biter is goin to kindie! Trivia: The school year in Australia runs from Feb.-Dec. School operates year round with the biggest break occurring in January. There are four terms with 2-3 week breaks in between. Poll: Have you ever had a run in with an overly sensitive drummer? Family Fun Fact: We just got back from a weekend on the South Coast. We encountered many wild kangaroos (who by the way seem more menacing in the wild), visited with some extraordinary kookaburras and parrots, had a run in with blue bottle jellyfish, and had the privilege of watching two humpback whales splash about in a storm. There was also a minor incident involving Mike, a forestry road, some burnt trees and our Pajero, but other than that… |
Lisence to Ill
September 25, 2008 - Thursday
| I think Australia might be trying to kill me. I am not sure yet. Sometimes, it seems like Australia loves me and never wants me to leave. Like when the sun shines, and the waves crash and the guy at the counter calls me Sheila (that hasn't actually happened but I trust that it will at some point). But much of the time I think Australia wants me dead. Why? Because She has waged a campaign of biological warfare against me and my kin. Over the last two weeks, my girls and I have been ravaged by a flu/cold from hell. Fortunately, Mike has been spared. Good thing too. He works for an investment group. Not sure he would survive a physical assault as well. This is cold/flu number 15 since we have arrived. My theory may be wrong. Maybe Australia is just trying to bolster my wimpy immune system, because it cares; like a drill Sargent trying to beat the weakness out of me. If this is the case, the World Youth Day Pilgrimage to Sydney was like the boot camp finale. The Pilgrims brought with them love, prayers, and germs from around the world. So it could be that this hellish flu is not Australian at all. Maybe this humdinger is Latvian. Hard to say at this point. It is more likely an Asian flu, because it has brought out Chaylee's legendary kung fu skills. You see, when Chaylee weaned (see Suddenly Seymour) she may have stopped suckling, but her fascination with the human mouth did not cease. She continues to rely upon sticking her hand in my mouth when she is in need of comfort or rest. Therefore: Chaylee + Illness = root canal for mommy. Example: Last night I was up from 2am till 4am being worked on. She used some of her traditional moves like the inner cheek scratch and gum claw. I used some of my own defense techniques like the lullaby method and snuggle hold. When these defenses faltered I attempted to hold a pillow in my mouth in hopes that she could not enter what she could not...(not sure if it is possible to make that any prettier) The pillow was no match for her misery and immense need for comfort. She pulled a side maneuver and entered through the gap between fabric and cheek. Exhaustion and empathy prevailed. It was like negotiating with a little terrorist. Okay, okay, you can put your hand in my mouth, just stay away from my frenulum...and no scratching. Now that my hair is longer, she has incorporated some new comfort seeking techniques. Namely, twirling my hair and then jamming it into my mouth. This is a favorite of mine. Another meditative strategy she now employs involves a flat hand and a swift jabbing motion aimed directly at the uvula. Any attempts to thwart said strategy is met with rivers of tears and agonizing cries of "momma", cough, cough, sneeze, cough, "momma". How can you say no to a sickly baby dentist. I can't. Especially one as lovely as she. Word of the Day: Oldies: Parents. I refuse to use this in a sentence. Poll: Does anyone else have a child or know of a child that is comforted by the inside of his/her mother's mouth? Family Fun Fact: Chaylee Pasley DDS is an amazing little girl...it would take ten blogs...even more...to capture her loveliness. She is a delight not just a dentist. Just wanted to let the world know. Surgeon General Notice: By the time guests arrive in Sydney once again, our family should be completely immune to germs worldwide. |
Wenlocks and Grandma Down Under Part 2
September 11, 2008 - Thursday
| "Living without you, living alone This empty house seems so cold" Oh Journey…you haunt me. My beloved family has departed...leaving me to fend for myself on this massive remote island. I am closer in proximity to the Malaysian Prime Minister than my own relatives now. Best not to think about that too much. Instead, I shall dwell on all the wonderful times we shared ...once we got the nose situation under control, that is. We frolicked on the steps of the Opera House, danced to the didgeridoo at Circular Quay, played in the sparkling sands of Balmoral Beach and hid from a rainstorm under the bridge. We even ate Aussie food at an Irish Pub where Mick, the ball-busting waiter shared his displeasure with our Olympians... "Tired of hearing your bloody anthem mate!" Okay, now that's just awesome. Mom's arrival brought even more bliss. We flew kites on the crystal shores of Bondi, caressed kangaroos at Taronga Zoo and attempted to enjoy the clowns and carnival of Luna Park. Our first attempt was met with alluring lights, celebratory music, and a closed sign. Our second effort was thwarted by a recently revised ticket policy. No longer are visitors to Luna Park allowed to purchase individual tickets, only a pricey "ticket package". We had to take a stand. It wasn't easy convincing the little ones that our boycott was justified, so we bribed them with fairy floss (cotton candy) and festive clown encounters. Lesson: Never trust an establishment that uses a creepy clown to welcome you. There was also good grown-up fun. Mom and Kirsten and I had one heck of a night out on the town. Mom was a champ. She was willing to enjoy the nightlife even though the excursion would commence at 1am Pacific Standard Time. We decided to take the train from Chatswood to Darling Harbour where we would locate an eatery worth eating at. On our way there we were fortunate to happen upon an Asian festival where a Celtic band was playing an obscure song called "Orphan Girl" that my mom recorded with my sister and I for her latest album. It was a surreal "Small World" sort of feeling as we Americans sang along with Irishmen at an Asian festival in Australia. All that were missing were some an African goat drums and a couple sombreros. Once we arrived at Darling Harbour, we scoured the promenade with purpose, in an effort to find the perfect spot to imbibe and nibble on the finer things. We finally found what we thought was an ideal location; a seafood joint with outdoor dining and a water view. It was beautiful, crowded, festive and fricken freezing. The heat lamps were no match for the mighty winter winds that lapped up against our hungry cheeks. (That was my lame attempt at a more poetic writing style). Although we were pleased with our culinary options and our waiter, we did not feel like having frigid fun. So we took our drinks and headed inside. Our indoor accommodations were sparse. No jovial neighbors surrounded us, the wait staff was disorganized and disinterested, and the table was cold and barren. We had made a poor decision. We scanned the room and found a more alluring option. A booth, with a decorative bamboo backdrop and a better view…sort of. At least we could see something blue at the bar. Unfortunately, it was also home to a run away AC unit. It was like trying to have a drink in a wind tunnel. Since no one cared to feed us at that point anyway, we paid the bill and departed. Then, it happened. We found what we were looking for. We found Nick's. Nick had it goin on; outdoor seating, effective heating elements, a magnificent menu and a friendly staff that seemed more than happy to take in customers on the rebound. There was a minor martini incident…but other than that… (The following clip contains some profanity. My apologies. It was my alter ego Delores…not me.) The evening ended with the singing of a popular folk song called, "We Are Australians." The song recently gained popularity in mainstream media due to a moving Olympic inspired commercial. We performed the song in three-part harmony on the streets of Sydney in hopes that somehow our melodious effort would ignite an impromptu Sydney sing-a-long, in the tradition of Fame or High School Musical. It didn't. Mike and James also had a night out on the town. They walked the Harbour Bridge and hit some of the famous Sydney Pubs. I hear much of the night was spent trying to feed Big James in a town that doesn't believe in serving anything edible after 10pm. I believe the adventure ended with beer and pancakes. ??? There was more, much more, but since I am into the whole brevity thing we will fast forward to the airport… I did what I could to not weep openly as they headed to the concourse that would lead them home. I am not an attractive crier. My nose and lips tend to swell and my skin gets very red and blotchy. Needless to say, I left that day in the aforementioned state. In the somewhat altered words of Journey, "Now that [they had] come back and Turned night in to day I needed [them] to stay" Fortunately Mom and Mike were there with Open Arms. We decided to head out to our favorite pizza joint to lessen the sense of loss and continue the fun. It was a good night. There was a minor incident involving mom, food aversion and a fever of 101, but over all… Random Trivia: Aussie's shorten everything…to an irritating degree. It's not breakfast, it's brekkie. It's not lipstick, it's lippie. It's not flight attendant or air hostess, it's hostee. I mean, Come on guys. Are you being a little ridiculous, or should I say, rickee! Poll: Is Delores too vulgar? Fun Family Fact: Mom and I discovered some incredible local hangs that we would like to take future guests to, including: Palm Beach, Whale Beach, Serpentine Beach and the Royal Botanical Gardens. What a grand time we had Momma! Phrase of the Day: Choof Off: To leave or depart. Why did they have to choof off? Homework: Learn "We are Australians" |
The Wenlock Adventure Down Under Part 1
August 18, 2008 - Monday
| They arrived on the third of August. My beloveds. My blood. My family. In anticipation, Kenna helped prepare freshly squeezed orange juice while Chaylee made up a routine to Men at Work. I set out an array of tropical fruits native to Australia in addition to cream puffs and croissant breakfast sandwiches. Impressive. The anticipation was becoming physically uncomfortable. Mike called just in time. "I have the package." He said. The girls and I squealed with delight and put the Men to Work. "Land Down Under" played at maximum volume as we headed for the front door to greet our kin. The series of hugs that ensued would have made you cry. It was as if we had been kept apart by the Iron Curtain. We sent Oprah the tape. As a result, she is buying Qantas for us. Good on ya Oprah! Day one was spectacular. The children frolicked gleefully, the grown ups relished the bliss of international togetherness. The Wenlocks were impressed with their accommodations and my awesome driving. There was a minor incident involving a sand pit, a mini tractor and Rowen's eye at the park… but, all in all, it was a strong start. There was also a minor vomit incident involving Mike and some chicken. But, overall… Day two brought much excitement. While Mike recovered from his evening poolside, the family and I headed into town to see Sydney and it's Darling Harbour. The outing did not disappoint. The panoramic views, peaceful promenades and world famous Aquarium brought hours of oohs and aahhhs. Later that evening, there was a minor incident involving Rowen, some vomit and the occasional dry heave. But, overall… Day three took a bit of a nose dive. An incident developed involving Kirsten, allergies and a nasal infection. Story also experienced some flu like symptoms throughout the night. But all in all… By day four Kirsten's right nostril had doubled in size and was a shade just shy of crimson. I told her she was still pretty. She cried. Then I told her that her nose looked a lot like Bill Clinton's and reminded her that he still gets a lot of A$ despite his bulbous nose. That seemed to help. At least until I was able to get her to the doctor. Though the Medical Center I frequent has a fairly undesirable reputation, it's convenient and cost effective so we decided to disregard Mike's "clown medicine" jokes in order to save some cash. The Doctor glanced at my sister's nose, agreed that it was infected, reminded us of the proximity of the nose to the brain, then mistakenly wrote up a prescription for children's Erythromycin . Dr Feelgood said if it got worse there was nothing more he could do for us and we would need to head for the ER. Send in the clowns! Poor Kirsten left feeling worse than when she arrived and far more anxious. But hey, at least she had her bubble gum flavor antibiotic. Day five brought a whole new set of issues. The nose now appeared broken. Although Kirsten desperately wanted to avoid the subject of the nose, it became a focal point; an impossible feature to avoid eye contact with. Through glassy eyes, Kirsten confessed that she thought she might lose her nose. Mike consoled her by pointing out the fame and notoriety of Voldemort. She was in no mood for dark humor. My efforts to bring peace were thwarted by my own terror at what was transpiring. I could not seem to keep myself from the maniacal manifests of WebMD. That bastard cyber doctor convinced me that Kirsten had nose cancer accompanied by MRSA with a touch of encephalitis. Tough to tell someone it's all going to be okay when you have just received their death sentence. Unfortunately, the nose situation was not the only medical malady of the day. Young James was next in line to be attacked by the House of Pain as his gastro intestinal system fell victim to the bug that seemed to be taking out each family member in kind. But outside of the physical suffering and agony, things seemed to be going well I would have been far more discouraged by the escalating crisis were it not for my bearded Hungarian Bride, Big James, who helped me keep the boat afloat by executing diaper changes, doing dishes and bathing children. On the sixth day the swelling had become more localized with a painful hint of purple. Frightening facial numbness had emerged as well. Not the improvement we were hoping for. It was time to take drastic action. We could head to the ER or return to the circus. I decided to take my soon to be noseless sister back to the Medical Center to Dr. Townsend. The notoriously long line to see him suggested to me that he was the Obi Wan our Princess Leah needed. Maybe he would nose what to do. Day seven brought healing and hope. The new medicine prescribed by Dr. Townsend was fast and effective. Kirsten's nose was not going to fall off. We nearly set out to celebrate but then came a minor incident involving Big James and some vomit, but overall… Phrase of the day: "You're crook but not crook as rook wood" Dr. Townsend Translation: You're sick, but your not going to die. Poll: Which is worse? A: A runaway nasal infection B: Chunder Down Under C: Accidentally showing your buttock to a park full of people. Trivia: Taste is 75% smell. I hate the word smell. So does Kirsten. Next Blog: Things Are Looking Up |
Where the Streets Have No Name
July 18, 2008 - Friday
| We've come a long way, Mike and I. Six months ago, we were navigating the Sydney suburbs with little more than a stroller and an atlas. Three months ago, we purchased a vehicle and drove sparingly; gripping the wheel at 10 and 2 like petrified high school students on the first day of Drivers Ed. Today, we both are capable of eating a burger, talking on the phone, grabbing an unruly child by the ankle and steering simultaneously. How is that for progress? But progress brings with it challenges of it's own. An increase in confidence has led to more driving excursions, and it doesn't take many of these to discover that Sydney is cruel. Would you like to take a right, Heather? Shut up. You will turn right when I say you can and that won't be for another 10 kilometers!!!! Oh, did you make a mistake? Would you like to turn around? NO! Now turn off your blinker before I force you onto the freeway. Oh...you didn't want to get on the toll infested freeway? Too Bad. Pay up Beeyotch!!!! And when you figure out how to turn around and head back the other way you will pay again.....mmoooohahahahaha moooooohahahaha! Oh you need to turn left? You want to be in the left hand lane? Oh you do?Okay.....PARKED CAR!!! "Hey honey, let's go to the drive-in". "Okay, we'll drive there tonight and go tomorrow". Today, I took the girls to Bi-Centennial Park in West Pymble. There are about four Bi-Centennial Parks in Sydney. Just like there are 18 Macquarie Streets, 12 Warratah Roads and 32 Victoria Avenues. Fortunately, I did my homework and found the park I was looking for on (dun dun dun) google maps. Google thinks it funny to say things like, "Exit toward Ryde". No street name. No Exit number. Just a suggestion. If I knew where Ryde was, I would go toward it. It reminds me of how my mom gives directions "Go West." "What? I have not a compass! Left or right woman...left or right!" The rest of the directions were less vague but completely wrong. I relied soley on my Gregory Guide (cousin of Thomas) to get me there. And you know how conveient ancient map navigation is while driving. Greg and I worked together and got us there though. Good on ya Greg. Kenna Quote: Context-When I could not find the play area at the park we spent a half an hour trying to find. "Mom, it's okay. Strawberry Shortcake says that hill is more than just a hill it's a possibility. You add skill and love and that's how a garden grows." She has been throwing out a lot of gems lately. Yesterday she said she loved me because I make her feel like she has glitter and bows in her heart. She also told me I was pretty like the "Queen of Israel". (stunned silence) That's awesome. Chaylee quote of the day: Momma. Momma. Mommy. Mom. Momma. Momma. Mommy. wasssisiss ticka was he he dada ha. Shout out to my man: Mike was named Foreign Driver of the Year when he took on a two lane round about at night during rush hour without breaking a sweat. Cool as ice, that man. Cool as ice!Word of the Day: Fair suck of the sav! : exclamation of wonder, awe, disbelief. Fair suck of the sav, I am where the streets have no name! Trivia: It is World Youth Day here in Sydney. The Pope is here presiding over the largest Mass in Australian History this morning at Darling Harbour. I had no idea the Pope was such a Rock Star. The youth were beside themselves. It was a lovely spectacle. Next Blog: This Mold House |
Thoughts on parenting and coolness
July 2, 2008 - Wednesday
| Most of my time these days is dedicated to preserving two human lives. My goal is to provide my offspring with the best childhood memories possible. If all goes well, they will still like me when they leave the nest and need minimal therapy. The rest of my time is spent trying to run our household. Since Mike (God bless him) has been been confined to a desk from dusk till dawn ( such is life in a penal colony) the onus has been on me to keep things running here on the home front. Those of you who know me well, know that my administrative skills are only slightly better than my track and field abilities. And domestically, I really only have one gift and that is cooking. I can cook the bee-jeebies out of a hunk of meat, but cleaning up the pan after the fact is a hell I try to avoid at all cost. And then there is the art of laundry. I am sort of a Jackson Pollock in that regard. I like to sort of throw a variety of color in the wash and see what comes out. Mike (God bless him) will not actually let me near his garments. I think he just doesn't understand my genius. I have learned some very valuable life lessons from my time at home with the wee ones though. Particularly from my oldest...since she is the only one that is currently speaking a dialect I am familiar with. Lesson 1: Any argument can be won by using made up words. Me: Kenna, I need you to put on your shoes, it is the last time I am going to ask you! Kenna: Mom, I am in the middle of a "constrination" so I cannot listen to you right now!!! Me: (stunned silence.) *Unfortunately, this method only works on people your own age or older. Lesson 2: Fake plans will get you out of anything. I call this maneuver the Crane. There is no defense, if done properly. Kenna: I want to go to Joan's house. Me: I am sorry Kenna. Now is not a good time. Kenna: Mommy please, I want to go and have a chat! Me: Kenna, you can go tomorrow honey. Kenna: (tears) But, mommy, tomorrow I have a wedding to go to and a meeting! I can't go tomorrow!!!!!! Me: (stunned silence) Lesson 3: Life is like a sitcom Kenna: What is going on in this show mom? Me: I am not sure. I didn't watch it last week. These shows are kind of like chapters in a book. Kenna: My life is like that. Each day is a chapter. When I wake up in the morning I decide if it is a good chapter with my behavior, or a bad chapter, or a sad one or a boring one. It is like God, writing the bible. He's writing a book about me. Me: (stunned silence) Lesson 4: Singing a song can chase your blues away. Sometimes I find Kenna standing still with her hands by her sides and her eyes half closed singing. It is almost always one of three songs: Tomorrow (Annie), Silly Dreamer (Strawberry Shortcake), or I've Gotta Go My Own Way (Troy and Gabriella). I have even caught her on a few occasions at the park after pre school...alone...singing...eyes half closed. I once asked her why she did this. She explained that it made her feel better if she was feeling sad, lonely or left out. I too use this method now; although I am struggling a bit with song selection. Don't Stop Believin is a shoe in. The other two slots are still up for grabs. Chaylee has already adopted her sister's mood adjustment method with a couple of minor alterations. She prefers to make up her own songs and she usually throws in some rapid arm movement just to mix things up. Lesson 5: Its harder to be cool when you have kids. Sometimes I miss my own youth. I realize 30 is the new 12, but there is something about being in my thirties that makes me feel like I can't dance anymore. Maybe it is because when I shake it these days, Kenna politely asks me to stop. Or maybe it is because of generation Y and their cyber judgments. I watched some hip-hop videos from my school days on youtube one afternoon (Thank You Julie) and made the wretched mistake of viewing some of the comments made by chronologically challenged individuals. One youngster referred to Ralph Tresvant's "Man With Sensitivity" as an oldie. WHAT? "Unchained Melody" is an oldie. "Louie,Louie" is an oldie. Hits produced by New Edition and it's former members are not! I digress. I just want to be cool forever. Which brings me to my next life lesson! Lesson 6: It is possible to be cool forever. My best friend in Australia is Joan Karrad. She is 88, semi immobilized by mild CP and arthritis and still, she is the coolest person I have encountered in the whole of Sydney. She is clever, kind, funny, empathetic, fearless, faithful and bold. Everything I want to be. I refer to her as "my old lady". Kenna refers to her as "cool". I guess there is hope for me yet. Poll: What songs would you select if you decided to use the Kenna Pasley mood adjustment.method? Fun Fact: * In 1832, 300 female Convicts at the Cascade Female Factory mooned the Governor of Tasmania during a chapel service. It was said that in a "rare moment of collusion with the Convict women, the ladies in the Governor's party could not control their laughter." Phrase of the day: galoot: a foolish person The older I get the more I realize what a galoot I am. *I realize that at a glance, my fun fact for the day has nothing to do with parenting or life lessons. But consider this: when you feel imprisoned by a monotonous life; when you are incarcerated by day to day responsibilities; when it seems no one is on your side... moon someone. |
Let the Games Begin!
June 23, 2008 - Monday
| Did you know: That when you ask for ketchup (or Tomato Sauce as they call it) in Australia you are given a maximum of two packets. If you ask for more, they will just look at you funny and give you one additional packet. As if an extra teapoon of "tomato sauce" will satisfy. In fact, I never knew what an absurd amount of "tomato sauce" we use in America until I came to this land of little ketchup. Mike believes the real problem is the packet system. After all, it is a dipping sauce. What the heck is it doing in a packet. It should be in a container suitable for dipping. (1 point America) Did you know that there is no baseball here? Cricket is the game of choice instead. It is sort of the older cousin of our beloved sport...or maybe the dirty uncle. The cricket batting instrument is about as wide as a dollar store fatbat which immediately makes it less of a game in my mind. The players wear polo shirts and sweaters. What? Do they think they are better than me? The one upside is that the game uses words like "wicket" which is a word I like to say aloud. Wicket. That is until the announcer says something like, "the batsman has taken out his wicket". Then I just feel dirty. Especially when I consider that the wicket is made up of three stumps. (1 point America) Rugby is awesome. Not as awesome as the NFL (a.k.a Grid Iron football) but darn close. It involves a lot rough housing and ballyhoo with little padding. Instead of touchdowns these thick-necked lads score "trys". Isn't that pleasant? Sometimes at the South Sydney Rabbitoh games, I yell, "Nice Try!" They probably are tired of that joke, but what can I say, I love word play. (1 point Australia) Australian Rules Football is a lot of fun as well. Mike actually prefers it to Rugby, but I am not yet persuaded. It is a fine sport though. I like the oval playing field and clever uniforms. The name of the sport brings me some joy as well. It is so literal. They didn't try to come up with some ridiculous name like Awesome Ball or Bombastic. They decided to just call it what it was. A game involving feet and balls and rules made up by Australians. Not big on the cutesy little nickname they use for it though: footy. But that is kind of how these Aussies roll. It's not a diaper, it's a "nappy". It's not a breakfast, it's "breaky". (1 point Australia, 1 point America) Did you know, that Australia has just edged out America for fattest country in the world? What? What? Are they sure? Must be those Banana Benders in Queensland because the residents of Roseville are as fit as a fiddle. (0 points awarded) Did you know that American Food Chains are plentiful here? (See paragraph above) But, don't be fooled. Kentucky Fried Chicken is not the KFC we know and love. For example: I once asked for a biscuit. A soft, buttery, processed, biscuit. The man behind the counter looked bewildered by my request. You see, in Australia, like many other nations represented in the Commonwealth, biscuits are actually what we know as cookies. Shockingly, it appears they do not serve biscuits or cookies at KFC...or should I call it AFC! Nor do they make extra crispy chicken. The Cornel would not be pleased! I ran into the same problem at "McDonalds" which is affectionately called "Macka" in these parts. I wanted a sausage biscuit. A buttery, soft, processed, biscuit with mystery meat tucked quaintly inside. No luck. Oh, but the place is crawling with English muffins!!! Friggen POHMs. They make up for the biscuit void by putting beet root and fried eggs on the burgers. Where was the scary A@ clown on this one? (2 points America) On the way home from our biscuit-less endeavor today, Chaylee threw-up in the car. She then ate a partially digested raisin. It sent Kenna into hysterical laughter. Which was good because she was miserable and sickly prior to the unfortunate event. Nothing like a little chunder down under first thing in the morning. Did I mention that I accidentally left the vomit soaked car seat in the sun? Awesome! (No points awarded) It's a beautiful day. (Australia 3 points) Kenna Quote of the day: A little context-Kenna splashed a significant amount of water onto the bathroom floor. Mommy got agitated. Kenna responded: "Mom, it's not my fault! The government made me do it." Good on ya Kenna. When in doubt, blame the government! Chaylee Milestone: Chaylee high-fives, blows kisses, gives pats on the back and likes to find steps to sit on so she can swing her little feet back and forth. Poll: Throw up your best vomit story? Love that word play. Fun Fact: Did you know that Australia has its own version of Idol, So You Think You Can Dance, Big Brother, Battle of the Choirs, Gladiators, and so on. They have some of their own as well, like "I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here!" which is a reality show that requires Australian superstars to survive in the Outback. They are pushed to their breaking point until they have no choice but to shout the aforementioned phrase. Word of the Day: Centralia: 1--The inner part of Australia…you know where the celebrities go to revive their careers. 2—A lovely little town that lets you know you are nearing Elma, home to Grammy Ostrom. |
Fashion Frenzy
June 12, 2008 - Thursday
| They laughed at me. I told the women at playgroup that I won't spend more than 20-30 bucks on a pair of shoes and they laughed at me. Evidently, they have never heard of Payless Shoes around here...or is it Volume...or is it Payless? The women of Roseville are high end shoppers. Their version of casual is cashmere and fancy boots. Some have even paid big bucks to have their "colors" done. Ally, for example, is an Autumn with a touch of spring. So you can imagine how taken aback they were when I revealed that not only do I have little to no fashion sense, but I am cheap. When the topic of shopping comes up, I am always unsure how to engage. Do I nod and pretend I am one of them? Or, do I go with my usual self depreciating humor that seems to endear me to others. This week I went primarily with option B. It was only moderately successful however. When discussing the latest trend in boot shape I whipped out some of best material "my cankles wouldn't fit in those things if you used a commercial size shoe horn and vaseline." I wish I would have said that actually. That is good stuff. What I actually said was a bit less hardcore..."I couldn't get these babies in there if I tried". Then I simply pulled up my pant leg and let em have a look. Unfortunately, the raucous laughter I expected, was more like a sympathetic chuckle. "Poor girl's got calves like a Polynesian man." I could hear them thinking. When discussing a sale going on at David Jones, I threw out: "Do they have candle lit dressing rooms, because I am not down with getting naked in front of mirrors with spotlights shining on my thighs. I am smoking in candlelight though!" Again....nervous laughter. That's it. Next time I am going with option A. If I am going to use my insecurities to bring others joy and laughter, I am going to need a far better pay off. Trivia: The 80's are back with a vengeance here. I even saw a young man wearing a gray hoodie with flouresent pink jagged stripes in the back. This is good. Now I can wear leg warmers to cover up the cankles. Poll: How do you deal with your insecurities? More trivia: I have lost close to 20 pounds since I moved to Sydney. Will I my sense of humor be no more once I have achieved my ideal weight? Words of the Day: Clobber: Your clothes. ---I like casual clobber. Disclaimer: The women of Roseville are wonderful and I adore them. They do chuckle at me a bit. I just can't tell if they think I am actually funny. I may send out a survey this week. TROY RULES! He is not just my cousin...he is my pal. |
Suddenly Seymour
May 27, 2008 - Tuesday
| Warning to my male readers: This blog contains graphic and disturbing imagery that may cause you emotional distress and discomfort. Read on at your own risk. The time has come to ween my beloved Chaylee Jane. As a newborn, Chaylee was a baby icon. Never had there been a new life that slept so peacefully, cried so little or latched onto the breast so naturally. Her only quirk, a strange inclination to put her tiny hand in my mouth as she suckled. How sweet. How tender. Her tiny fingers exploring my teeth, gently discovering the intricacies my cheeks. However, the once tender quirk is now a hellish nightmare.... She has become a deranged dentist, clawing at my gums, gripping my mandible and thrusting in downward with inhuman strength, scraping my taste buds with her tiny talons... You may be thinking, why don't you simply move her head out of the way Heather. Good question. And I have a good answer. Because samurai toddler over here goes mortal combat on my cakes and grabs my trachea with her ninja death grip. You may suggest pulling her off the breast when she goes for the mouth. Well, I would if she wasn't a biter. Case in point. A few weeks ago, I awoke at three in the morning on the couch with Chaylee biting down on one nipple while pinching the other like a vice. "There is no escape" she said... with her eyes. How could I have let this go on for so long. Sleep deprivation can make people do crazy things I guess. For nearly a year I have allowed myself to live like a show pig at the Puyallup fair. I lay in bed at night allowing her to have her way with me like a ravenous piglet with a keen interest in dentistry, just so I can enjoy the benefits of an hour of sleep. I have been in prison and lactating has been my only crime. It's parole time baby. I love you Chaylee. You are my little star, my precious possum, my baby girl, but it is time for mommy to find a new dentist. Poll: What is worse: a) falling off a swing, exposing your bum to the public b) walking naked through the neighborhood in a rainstorm c) being tortured by a baby dental hygienist Fun Fact: 80% of babies in Australia start out on the breast, rates drop off quickly, with 50% still feeding at 1 month and 24% at 6 months (Australian Bureau of Statistics,). Words of the Day: Happy Little Vegemite noun:- a happy and contented person. Derived from an advertising campaign recently revived where happy children eating Vegemite are described as happy little Vegemites. Oh little Chaylee, this too will pass and you will once again be a Happy Little Vegemite. Coming Soon: Kenna the Jedi and Climbing the Harbour Bridge |
The Dinner Party
May 22, 2008 - Thursday
| I was told to bring Hors d'oeuvres. I toyed with chips and salsa but then decided on something more impressive. Avacado Egg rolls with a Cilantro dipping sauce; a Cheesecake Factory recipe I seized from the internet. The sauce itself had a difficulty level of about a 9.5 on the Olympic gymnastic scale. As a safety measure I decided to throw in an easier dish as well; brie with honey, caramelized pecans and some sliced apples. It sounds fancy, but all you really do is throw a pricey hunk of brie in a frying pan with some pecans and dump honey on it. Easy. Delicious. I started work on my contributions to the dinner party early in the day. The sauce was completed with time to spare. All that was left to do was purchase egg roll wrappers, stuff them gently with a mixture I prepared in advance, throw on some "glad rags", and warm up the brie. I decided to start my search for egg roll wrappers at Asian World. I perused each aisle with care. I found won ton wrappers, spring roll paper, and dumplings of all shapes and sizes but nary an egg roll ingredient. I asked several employees and a customer. All looked at me as if they had n2ever seen or heard of an egg roll before; as if somehow the concept itself was disturbing. Did I mention I was shopping at Asian World? I would have to use won tons. Appetizers should be bite sized anyway. I cooked up the first batch of miniature morsels without incident. However, round two was "a damn nightmare". Chaylee arose with a passionate cry from her premature slumber. Mike intervened. A knock at the door followed: the teen babysitter arrived accompanied by a DVD of Sex In the City. I was thinking something more along the lines of Care Bears or perhaps Shrek. The wee one was inconsolable. I nursed her frantically and ask Mike to tend to the deep frying. He promptly removed the little guys from the lake of fire, but it was too late. They were visually disturbing and nearly inedible. It was 8:00. The guests were without their nibbles. We arrived at The Dinner Party forty minutes late. As we entered the room it was clear that we had come grossly under prepared. The table looked like an evening at Buckingham Palace. Each place setting had countless utensils, three wine glasses per person, extravagant candle holders accompanied by fresh flowers and linen napkins. Our contribution? One deep fried wonton per person and a blackened brie pancake with store brand crackers and sliced apples haphazardly arranged on a bright green dinner place covered in crumpled foil. Bon Apetite! The next course, provided by the host, was a creamed corn fancy-naise of some kind, topped with seared scallops, spring greens and caviar. I suck. Thankfully, the martini and the three glasses of wine that I was obliged to drink for cultural reasons made it all seem okay. Poll: What recipe do you use to dazzle? Do you have any plating tips to throw my way? Fun Fact: Australians love to drink. They always have. " All through Australia, in every class, it is not considered good form for a man to drink by himself. Very few even of the most hopeless drunkards ever do so. The consequence is, that when a man feels inclined to drink, he immediately looks out for someone to drink with" "At whatever hour of the day a mans meets another whom he has not seen for say twelve hours, etiquette requires that he shall incontinently invite him to come and drink. This is a custom that pervades every class in the colony, and cannot be departed from without something more than a breach of good manners." Finch Hatton 1887 Words of the Day: Tucker: food That's Bonzer: That's great That's Bonzer, my tucker sucked. |
My Mom
May 11, 2008 - Sunday
| It was Chay's Australian Birthday. Chay baby and I dropped off Kenna at school and headed to Chatswood to pick up a birthday treat and a few things for her little party ! It was a lovely morning. The sun was shining, the leaves were falling, and the town was bustling. Heaven. My bliss was interrupted by a large camera, a boom mic and a smallish woman with a clipboard. "Hello, we are from the Today Show (AU) and we are asking people to give shout outs to their mums. Would you like to say something to your mum?" Slightly stunned by the opportunity, I explained that my "mum" lives in the US and so I may not be the best candidate. They instructed me to "have a go" anyway. They had no idea what it was they were asking me to do. Before I was able to utter a single syllable, a lump the size of a melon emerged in my throat. I knew I was in trouble. "Crap," I said. "I don't know if I can do this. I am crying already." They appeared moved. "Go on", the smallish one said. "What do you love about your mum?" "What don't I love....." It was a strong start, but what began as a moving tribute became an unintelligible slew of guttural utterances. You see, I am completely incapable of crying and speaking simultaneously. Those of you who know me know this is true. It is sort of a cross between Yoda and Sloth from Goonies. The tears were magnificent. You would have thought I had just returned from her memorial. The crew seemed more concerned then moved at this point and so I brought my deluge of emotion to an end and walked away. Much to my chagrin, the tears continued. I looked very unstable as I navigated the streets of Chatswood. Mom, it appears I love you. And evidently I miss you more than is normal. I pray that one day when my daughters are older and asked to express how they feel about me, they too will crumble publicly. It is an honor to be yours. You are the kind of woman I am trying to become and....it appears I cannot type and cry all at once either. Happy Mother's Day Mummy. Your baby girl, Flow Pow |
Finding Nemo
May 1, 2008 - Thursday
| The boat was called FantaSea 1. A perfect name for the vessel that was about to make my dream come true. However, the dream was nearly extinguished before it was ever realized. The night before our intended departure on FantaSea 1, Chaylee sent projectile vomit down my shirt destroying my only truly supportive brazier and my dream. The poor girl did not intend to vomit on my dream. In fact, she was clearly displeased herself. No one enjoys the stomach flu. No one. I actually like a good solid head cold. And if you really think about it, I bet you do too. Consider: You can lounge around guilt free, a tumor is not a likely cause of the illness, and you get a fair amount of sympathy with minimal suffering. I digress. Mike went ahead and rescheduled our voyage for the next day in hopes that our girl would turn her hat around and rally. And rally she did. At 8:50am we boarded FantaSea 1. The dream twas revived! I was glad to hear it would be a two hour trip rather than a three hour tour. I stood up on the deck and stared at the big blue spread out before me. You can see why people thought the world was flat. A thin line of indigo separated the sea from the horizon. It seemed as if the water actually came to an end. Knowing it continued past what I could see provided me with just the existential, spiritual fodder I was seeking. God is real. Kenna, Chay and Mike joined me on the terrace as the boat began to slow. A bright green shimmering band cut through the water like a stream. As we drew closer, the colors became even more brilliant and the contrasting blues even more surreal. The colossal reef carved a giant barrier through the aptly named coral sea and thus we had a arrived at the Great Barrier Reef: home to Nemo, Marlin, and my dream So as to not interrupt my stream of consciousness, I skipped the part about Mike deciding at the last minute that he would go scuba diving in addition to snorkeling. Announcer: Anyone interested in scuba diving should head downstairs for a quick tutorial. That was all the convincing he needed. "I think I'll do it." He said non-nonchalantly as he headed downstairs. I was speechless. Bewildered. Not entirely happy. Actually downright miffed. (Miffed is really a terrible word. Say it a few times.) My arguments against Scuba Diving a) embolism b) independent scuba diving may interfere with couples snorkeling c) embolism d) brief tutorials are not safe tutorials e) embolism Once I realized that his scuba (great word) experience would not interfere with my snorkeling ambitions I released him from my emotional prison. The truth was I was a bit jealous that I didn't have the balls to do it too. We docked at Reef World, a huge pontoon situated on the Hardy Reef. Does it bother anyone else that the name of one of the most beautiful places on the face of the earth is Hardy? Who decided this? Shouldn't it be called, Paradise Reef, or Beautiful Land or Enchanted Coral Garden? Mike headed to the scuba section. I took the girls on the fancy submarine ride. We ate lunch. Mike arrived from his scuba excursion. He looked happy. He was alive. I was proud. I still had not touched water. Mike dropped the girls off at the Clownfish Kids Club and I headed to the dressing room to put on my stinger suit. A fluorescent orange leotard designed to protect snorkellers from jellyfish and conceit. It served its purpose. It made me feel safe and humble. I looked like a giant orange road safety cone. It took me a good 15 minutes to pull the little number on. Two nineteen year old girls slipped on powder blue suits with ease, unzipping the front in an effort to reveal the little cleavage they were able to conjure up...Afterall, it is common knowledge that tropical fish love cleavage. Especially the ones that live on "hardy" reef. "I think I will go for the Angelina Jolie look" said one of the snorkeling vixens. I unzipped my special suit and responded. "I'm going with the nursing mother motif." They laughed…and laughed. Little did they know tropical fish prefer orange! Mike came around the corner in his dark blue stinger suit. It really made his eyes pop. Good look for him. We were stopped at the equipment bin by a woman with a camera and a cockney accent. I just wanted to get in the water. She had other plans. She told us about a one-night stand she had with a man from Portugal, her parents home in London, her work as a school photographer, her run-ins with Canadians…. Finally, I just put on my snorkel mask, inserted the breathing apparatus and continued listening until she got the point that it was snorkel time. The minute I hit the water I was filled with awe and wonder…unfortunately, my mask was filled with water too. It took me at least 20 minutes to situate my goggles in such a way that I would not drown every time I attempted to view the reef. Once I achieved correct goggle positioning I achieved Nirvana! Clownfish, fox faced rabbit fish, angel fish, grouper, giant clams the size of Kenna, every colour of the spectrum surrounded me. Huge schools of silver fish darted back and forth in perfect unison. I was swimming through a Wild Kingdom. At one point, I looked down at the fields of coral and creatures and sang through my snorkel, "Praise God from whom all blessings flow…Praise Him all Creatures Here Below!" After an hour of bliss, we beckoned Kenna to join us. She put on her stinger suit and was transformed into a sort of aqua teletubby. She has never looked more adorable and that is saying something. She didn't last long in the water due to the ill-fitted breathing apparatus, but she did swim to the reef's edge and squealed with delight as the friendly fish swam by her side. After Kenna returned to the pontoon with Dad, I swam out once more determined to find Nemo before our departure. I swam around the reef's rim peeking in each crevice like a underwater game of hide n' seek. I nearly gave up my search when I saw a tiny orange fish poking his fin out of an anemone. I found Nemo. It was time to go home. Poll: What is your dream? Fun Fact: The Great Barrier Reef which is located off the coast of Queensland, Australia, is considered one of the seven natural wonders of the world. One down, six to go! Word of the Day: |
My left thumb
April 10, 2008 - Thursday
| People thank God for the strangest things. We thank Him for helping us find our keys. We thank him for nice weather on special days and snow on Christmas. We thank him when we are happy and when we get stuff we always wanted. But today I want to publically express gratitude to God Almighty for something I have never found cause to thank Him for. My left thumb. All of my life I have had a double jointed left thumb. I can bend it in impossible directions and it even appears a bit shorter than it’s twin on the right. It is an oddity I have never given much thought to unless I am performing party tricks or frightening small children with the removeable thumb illusion. But today something amazing happened. I was driving to the drycleaner through heavy traffic. I was experiencing the usual light headedness, shortness of breath, and heart palpatations when something miraculous happened... I begin to notice that every time I took a right turn into the left lane I was involuntarily bending my freakish thumb back. It was as if my ridiculous thumb was a beacon of safety guiding me into the correct lane. With each turn confidence swelled within me. With my trusty thumb at the wheel my family as well as Australian motorists and pedestrians will be safe. Cougar may have turned in his wings, but I am no Cougar.... The codename is Thumbelina baby. And this soldier can roll in any hemisphere. Thank you dear readers for your support and thank you Lord for my thumb. It was a comfort to me as a child and is a comfort to me now. |
Just call me Cougar
April 5, 2008 - Saturday
Misc. Moments
March 14, 2008 - Friday
| On Australia Day I was struck several times by an angry disabled, elderly woman whom I was trying to assist. She had me cornered. Mike sprung into action by escorting Kenna and Chaylee off the elevator safely. Evidently, he felt I had things under control. "No Hitting!" was all I could think to say as I stood paralyzed...conflicted. She was throwing combinations and I felt it all. A touch of terror and a sympathetic ache. Poor old girl. I would have liked to have been friends. Thankfully, a train station worker saw me on the ropes and relieved me, assisting the agitated woman. I only hope that if I start throwing punches at random strangers in my old age, I can strike with the same accuracy and flare. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- On Wednesday I locked myself in the house. Not out of the house. In the house. I locked my keys in the stroller, which was in the garage, which could only be accessed by using said keys. In fact, all doors leading out of the house require keys. Why not open a window you ask? Because our landlord, Houdini, decided to put decorative bars on all the windows in addition to automated metal shutters. How should we go about exiting the premises in case of an emergency? Not sure yet. Suggestions are welcome. In this case, a neighbor came to my aid. She opened the garage, located the keys and set the little ones and I free. I was wondering how I would go about humiliating myself in front of my neighbors this week. Glad that’s out of the way. At least this time I kept my clothes on. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Mike sprayed the perimeter of the house a while back in an effort to reduce the amount of roaches of unusual size that were taking up residence in the house. Later that evening, we discovered a plethora of curious red bites on his ankles. His feet swelled up like a pregnant woman. He now refers to himself as "Mike, it’s what’s for dinner." or, "Mike, the other white meat". Evidently my brand of flesh is only appealing to caterpillars. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- We still have no car and rental furniture. Pray both reach us soon. Till then, may we continue to grow and stretch and embrace what is in our reach. Word of the day: Blue: fight The poor old gal wanted to have a blue with me. Daily Poll: Have you ever been locked in? Mom....this is a great opportunity for you to tell your story. Go ahead...let it out. Trivia: Britain decided to use its new outpost (Australia) as a penal colony. The First Fleet of 11 ships carried about 1500 people—half of them convicts. The fleet arrived in Sydney Harbour on 26 January 1788, and it is on this day every year that Australia Day is celebrated. |
Nuddy in a Southerly Buster
March 3, 2008 - Monday
| It was just a drizzle. A gentle tickle of rain. I dressed Chaylee in a valor sweat suit with a hood just in case the chill in the air began to nibble at her soft cheeks. We were off to pick up Kenna from kindie. I didn't bring much other than my phone and some sultanas (raisins) for Chaylee. I wanted to pack light so that I could negotiate the pram with greater ease. It is a 40 minute round trip walk so every little bit helps. The walk was a dream. The cool temperature, a welcome departure from the scorching sun. Kenna was eager to tell us about her day and walked along side the stroller with much to say. I could only listen with moderate attentiveness however, because I was distracted by some ominous clouds that were quickly approaching. They were black. They were bulbous. They screamed of pending doom! "Hey Kenna...we may need to pick up the pace here dove. It looks like rain is heading our....." No sooner had I spoken did the dam break. This was biblical rain. I grabbed my phone from my pocket and placed it in a small compartment next to the cup holders that were steadily filling with water. It would be safe there. Kenna screamed with delight. Chaylee splashed in the pool that had developed in her tray. Water begin to fill my shoes as it rushed down the sidewalk. It was then I looked down and realized... I was naked. How could I make such a terrible wardrobe error? A long sleeved white shirt, a black brazier and a pair of thin light beige pants? WHAT? Nothing was left to the imagination. Every curve and crevice was on display. I begin to push with even greater fury and purpose. I kept my head down, my stomach sucked in and my arms arched so as to prevent shirt suction. It did not help matters that the entire neighborhood was out in force picking up their children from school. Umbrellas floated all around me. Children ran all about in rain jackets and clever hats. My children looked as if they had been thrown in a pool. At least we survived. My phone was not so lucky. An old family adage: If you can't make it good, make it memorable. Poll: Would you rather: a. Fall off a swing in a public park exposing your bottom b. Have your whole neighborhood see you naked due to flash flooding Trivia: They are referring to this summer in NSW as the "lost summer" due to the unseasonable cool temperatures and abundance of rain. Word of the Day: Nuddy: Naked "I got nuddy in a Southerly Buster" |
I just couldn’t swing it
February 25, 2008 - Monday
| It was a beautiful day today in Roseville. We walked beneath a canopy of large palms and gum trees as we made our way home through Beauchamp Park: the pram loaded with groceries and our hearts blooming with gratitude and wonder. Mike would make his way home with two ridiculously heavy bags of groceries, in an effort to get certain products to a colder climate. I would stay at the park with the girls for a bit to enjoy the day before carting the rest of the weeks food supply home. Kenna ran to the sand pit to play with her gardening toys and I sat perched on a giant swing with Chaylee so I could feel her delight and watch the gentle wind play with her soft hair....ahhhhhhh. AHHHHHHHH! It is amazing how many thoughts can actually make their way through your mind in a split second... "Oh Crap?" "We are falling backwards." "Chaylee, hold on." "This is going to hurt!" "My pants are falling off." "There are people at the picnic table." "How am I going to make this okay?" "Can they see my butt?" "Indeed they can...why did I wear maternity pants?" Although all these things crossed my mind I only uttered two words. "F-ME!" In summary, not only did I fall off a swing in public, sparing my child, but exposing the top half of my buttox, I swore in front of children in a distinctly American accent. I let you all down. I am sorry. You will be glad to know however, that I rallied. I sat up and laughed and laughed...and laughed some more in an effort to make those around me more comfortable with what had occured. I demonstrated optimism and humility. In that moment, I made America proud. And with an aching back and squandered pride, I pushed the mega-ton stroller home. All in all, it was a good day. Daily Poll: What is the best way to handle a fall that occurs in public? Do you like when people try and help you? Terms of the Day: Come a gutser: to have an accident or make a mistake. -I would put this in a sentence for you, but I don't know how! Cack Handed: Clumsy "I must have looked like a right cack handed sheila. Factoid: Overall, about 79 percent (three-fourths) of the injuries that occur on public (playground) equipment involve falls, primarily to the surface below the equipment. |
Australian Party Habits
February 20, 2008 - Wednesday
| Today is Kenna's Birthday!!! She is four years old and very proud to be so. I have to admit, I was afraid of what this day would be like for her. Our parties at home are generally a raucous affair. Typically, I cook way too much food, invite far too many people, provide ludicrous amounts of sugar to small children, spend way too much on cheap decor, and lean heavily upon the help of friends and family to pull it off. At some point during the night, I usually get my groove on to some old school beats with the help of my beloved sisters/girlfriends (and Mitch) and we dance into the night, stopping only to eat some more... So, what is a mommy like me to do when her little girl is about to embark on another year and family and friends are an ocean away? She invites the three families she knows over for ice cream. It seemed perfect. Quaint, simple, and easy. Last week I noticed that Kenna had made a sweet little friend named Elspeth. I decided to ask El's mom if she could come to our little party. Unfortunately, it wasn't her mom. It was the mother of another student and hence, my quaint plans begin to unravel before my eyes like a dollar store sweater. "Oh...well, Matt can, uh, come too...I mean, we would love to have him...all the children are welcome," I said with an unsure stutter. I called upon my Aussie friend Jane and explained the scenario to her in hopes that she could help me deal with the situation in a way that was culturally appropriate. She instructed me to post a little note at the preschool the day of the party informing parents that there would be a gathering to celebrate Kenna. This morning Mike took Kenna to school and delivered the small, hand written party invitation to Kenna's teacher. When I arrived to pick Kenna up from Kindie, I was greeted with a giant sandwich board containing my homemade invite, a larger typed version of said invitation and three balloons adorned with ribbon curls. I knew I was in trouble. Poll: If you were invited to a stranger's child's birthday party the day of the event, would you attend? Fifty people, mostly children, showed up for Kenna's party today...ON TIME! I was flabbergasted, appalled, paralyzed by culture shock. Who are these people? My friends Jane (a.k.a. Super Jane) and Sonja saved the day. They brought snacks, wine, extra dessert, and tea. Evidently, no party is complete without tea. Holla! Word of the day: Cuppa: Short for cup of tea. "Come over and have a cuppa and we'll chat about how full on the party was." Factoid: * In 1954, Bob Hawke was immortalised by the Guinness Book of Records for sculling 2.5 pints of beer in 11 seconds. Bob later became the Prime Minister of Australia. What does this have to do with birthdays and pre schoolers? Nothing. I just found it intriguing and thought I would share it with you. |
Carless Whisper-Life on the Pram
February 15, 2008 - Friday
| I was going to use this venue to complain about my lack of vehicle. After all, it always feels kind of nice when people feel sorry for you. However, I have decided to take another approach. How have I grown over the last month of carlessness? 1. I have become more muscular from pushing 100 pounds up and down rolling hills several times a day in sweltering heat and dehydrating humidity. 2. My spacial relations skills have improved as a result of having to fit 13 bags of groceries into a stroller (pram) with two kids in tow. 3. I have become more resourceful. One has to be to get the aforementioned items home. 4. I have become far more brave. How could I not? You try pushing a double stroller in flip flops when suddenly a tropical thunderstorms begins to pelt you and your children with rain while thunder rolls and lightning strikes. 5. I have become a better liar. "I love thunder and lightning. Don't you Kenna? I think this is really fun!" See? Who needs a car? Word of the Day: Donk: Engine for a car or a boat. "I wish I had a donk on my pram." Poll of the Day: Would you be willing to go without a car for a month? Factoid: The new Australian Prime Minister just held a National Day of Apology to the Stolen Generation...a generation of "half-caste" Aboriginal children who were taken from their parents to be assimilated into Australian Society. The PM, Kevin Rudd gave a breathtaking speech that was aired on every station in Australia. It was incredibly powerful. I was honored to be a witness to such a historic event in Australian history. Movie Suggestion: If you have not seen it, I highly recommend the film, Rabbit Proof Fence. It beautifully depicts the true story of three such children. Shout Out: Kirsten, my beloved sister. No one can possibly know how much a love you. How much you are a part of me. How much I miss you. Happy birthday sissy. There are no words to describe how grateful I am we were put together in the same family. You are a musical genius and a brilliant sister. I LOVE YOU. Hooroo |
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