Matron Down Under

Decisions, decisions.

2012-02-09T21:16:00.004+11:00

Well, first let me say: Wow. You guys are awesome. I'm feeling so loved up over here, I don't even know what to do. Thank you so much for your sweet words. No, really. Thank you. And to those of you who delurked to say hello, that really means a lot to me.

I'll tell you what, guys. Every one of you go down to the end of your driveway and wait by the mailbox. I'm buying everybody a puppy! You get a puppy! You get a puppy! And you--you get a puppy! Puppies for the Internet--on me! Yay!

Well before I get carried away, I'll fill y'all in on our appointment with the surgeon yesterday. Yesterday morning was hectic: we were supposed to be there just before 9, and had to get Ava and Nate ready for school and deposited at a friend's house before that. Another good friend came over to watch Grace, which was wonderful. But as we left the house, I realized we'd be stuck in before-school traffic. Under normal circumstances, I don't like being late. In this instance, I was clawing at the windshield at the thought of being late. I felt like I was on the way to take a final exam--I was going over in my head the questions I wanted to ask, I was wondering what the surgeon would think of my case, I was worried that I wouldn't have everything I needed. It reminded me of the feeling I used to get--racing across campus to face a test that would decide my fate in a particular course.

Dramatic much? Anyway, whatever--we got there. And as worried as I was about being late, we ended up having to wait because the clinic hadn't faxed the pathology report from the biopsies yet. So when we got in to meet the doctor, he sat for awhile and read my report. That was kind of funny, just sitting there while he did that. I wondered if I could just pull out my phone and check my text messages--I could hear my phone vibrating in my purse. But I decided maybe that was a breach of etiquette?

Obviously, I had a lot of emotional investment in this appointment and its outcome. I realized as I was sitting there, that I was trying to think of ways to make sure the surgeon liked us. Without consciously deciding this, I somehow thought that it would be better to "stand out" somehow. It's like I thought that if I could appear smart enough, or charming, or young-and-full-of-life enough, that it would make him do a better job with my case? Like, I thought I should be all, "I'm not like those other, boring patients! I'm smart, yet vivacious! Cure me!"

Oy, that's embarrassing to admit. But, as I thought about it--I had waited for days to hear from this doctor and see what he was going to recommend for me. And most scenarios where you are really feeling dependent on another person's opinion of you are ones in which your performance matters. A job interview or a date or a sales presentation. Ha--even a sermon, to a degree! And so I think my brain was just transferring those same kind of instincts--wanting to posture myself in a certain way, wanting to make a good impression--to this situation, too. But don't worry--all of this whipped through my head as we sat quietly while he read my pathology report. So I didn't do a tap dance routine or anything. But still, I think he would've really enjoyed the monologue from Rebecca that I did in the 11th grade...

So, after asking me a few basic questions--general health stuff--he did a physical exam. I am already so used to whipping my shirt off for all these folks, and I'm only a week in. "Hi, nice to meet you--did you need to see my boob?" It's becoming a habit. The other day, I nearly reached up to unhook my bra when the guy at the deli counter asked if he could help me. Maybe you can, Dennis. Do you have any background in mammography?

After that, we had the discussion I'd been waiting to have. Would I need a mastectomy or would a lumpectomy be an option? He said, given what he'd seen on the films, the physical exam, and the biopsies, that it was our choice. I could opt to have a lumpectomy with radiation treatments afterward, or a mastectomy with no radiation treatments. Either way I might end up needing chemotherapy--we won't know until after the surgery when they look at my lymph nodes. He told us that chances of cancer returning elsewhere are the same with either option. We talked for awhile, he took us through the details of each procedure, we asked questions about sentinel nodes and surgical margins and axillary dissection. (I'm learning a lot already.) I asked about breast reconstruction (if I opted for the mastectomy) and its effect on treatment. It was a lot of information in a short amount of time. And then he basically left it up to us: I'm a good candidate for a lumpectomy (AKA breast conservation), but I might prefer a mastectomy if I want to avoid radiation treatments, or if I'm worried that the cancer would return in that breast. (A very slight chance, but a chance all the same.)

So, we told him we'd talk about it and get back to him. He told us to be sure to call if we had any questions. Jason and I left the office and went to a cafe next door and sent a flurry of text messages to our families. After thinking that I was going to be told a mastectomy was the only viable option, this was actually good news. Or, it feels that way to us. It's funny how your definition of "good news" can change in so short a time.

We spent the rest of the day talking through our options with each other and our families. I sent 8700 text messages to friends. I took a nap. By the end of the day, we were pretty well settled on the lumpectomy option. This morning, though, I got anxious again. Was I missing something? I worried that maybe it was better to just have the mastectomy. I read all these obscure oncological journal articles online and talked to my parents and sister. Inwardly I was freaking out a little. I think it was mostly the pressure of the last 6 days coming out. The reality of no guarantees, no absolutes.

I called and talked to the doctor again. Then we decided to stick with our decision. And just like that, surgery scheduled for next Friday. Two weeks and one day after this whole thing began, I'll have the lumpectomy. What a blur.

It's funny...I feel insecure posting this, a little. I guess it's because I know others have made different choices for themselves--friends I know that have chosen mastectomies over conservation. Part of me feels like I'll be called to defend my choice, even though I know I won't. And even if I was asked to defend it, I wouldn't. I'm just projecting my own anxiety, I guess. I think it's just that there's inherent insecurity in a decision where you can't guarantee the outcome. And that makes me uncomfortable.

But I think I'll just have to get used to not knowing what's going to happen. At any rate, I'm feeling good right now. I'm optimistic. My stomach butterflies have mostly gone away, for now. And it feels good to have a date for the surgery.

And that's where we are right now. Thanks again, everyone.

This is what is happening.

2012-02-07T21:24:00.006+11:00

Okay, well. I have some stuff to tell y'all.

Remember my last post, when I was kinda crotchety about getting pink eye? (Which by the way, went away the next day! See? WHINING WORKS.) Well, what I didn't tell you is that part of the reason I was irritable is that I was worried. The next morning, I was getting on a train to head into the city, I had an appointment at the Sydney Breast Clinic. Not for cosmetic enhancement--oh, no!-- but to follow up on a breast ultrasound I'd had two days before.

When I had my regular lady checkup with my GP in January, I told her about Becky's breast cancer. I asked her what I needed to do, in terms of detection and whatnot. She told me that, at 35, I was a little young to get mammograms, but that I should get yearly physical exams and ultrasounds.

"Your breasts are quite dense," she told me. "Why, thank you," I said, "But I really just think of you as a friend." Then, I realized she was saying that mammograms aren't always effective for younger women because of the density of their breast tissue. But I took it as a compliment anyway. If y'all have been reading here awhile, you know about my receive any and all compliments policy. But anyway.

So last week, once the kids were back in school and things got quieter, I scheduled the ultrasound for Tuesday. "Are you nervous?" Jason asked me as I grabbed my stuff to go. "Nah," I said, "we know that nothing bad will ever happen to us." And we chuckled, because I was obviously joking, but really? I wasn't nervous at all. 'Cause part of me really believed that.

I'm gonna fast forward a little, because this is meant to be a blog post and not a Tolstoy novel. Wednesday, I went back to the doctor because I wanted eye drops for my burgeoning pink eye. But we ended up talking about the ultrasound instead. There were a few cysts that the radiologist wasn't sure about, but he recommended another ultrasound in 6 months. My GP recommended calling the Breast Clinic in the city, just to get checked. I appreciated that she was being cautious. I called Wednesday afternoon, and they happened to have an opening for the next morning, which I took.

You can probably see where this is going. My friends, I was there all day. I shut that place down! No really, I was literally the last patient there--I got there at 10:30am and left at 4:30pm. A physical exam found a lump (that didn't show up on the ultrasound, as in, they missed that part of the breast.) Then I had my first mammogram, then a second, then an ultrasound. I will post again soon, cause I want to tell you more about some of this. You'll have to forgive this first "brain dump" post.

After the mammo and before the ultrasound, the doctor sat with me in her office. She showed me a shot from my mammogram on the screen. She pointed to an area in the upper right corner. It looked like a gray, ovally shape with some little white dots in it. "I don't like this," she told me. I nodded. And swallowed. I was trying very hard to listen and be a good student. I like to appear attentive. I remembered Becky saying the same thing, and even then in that moment, I smiled to myself.

She told me that the white dots were calcifications. That when cancer cells die, they calcify and that is what enable them to be seen on a mammogram. The ovally shape was a small lump that she had felt and initially thought was a lymph node. It wasn't anything I'd ever noticed. It wasn't anything my GP noticed when she did a breast exam last month. It wasn't anything that showed up on the ultrasound I had on Tuesday. But there it was. Those little white dots. And when the breast doctor tells you she doesn't like the look of something on your mammogram, you listen to her.

Funny the things you have to communicate via text message. This is me Trying To Be Calm.

She told me they were going to do an ultrasound and then a biopsy. The technician spent a long time on that ultrasound. I lay there, my right arm above my head for almost an hour. She told me beforehand, "I get very focused on what I'm doing, so don't let it bother you if I don't say much." I told her I would much rather her focus on her job than make chitchat with me, anyway. Once she got a ton of pictures of the area in question, the doctor came in. They discussed their "approach" for the biopsy--actually there were three areas they wanted to sample.

The location of the lump made it a tricky place to biopsy. And let's just say I don't have an abundance of breast tissue in the first place. And ya know, there are some important things right behind your boobs, like your chest wall and such. So, it's a precision job. They were talking amongst themselves about a particular technique they were gonna use. "It's good for thin people," the doctor said to the tech. "Awww, you guys!! That is so sweet!", I said. No not really. But I thought about it while laying there, and it made me chuckle to myself.

I'm just babbling now. Sorry. It's just that it was such a long day, and so surreal and I've been wanting to write about it. Actually, I told Becky later, as I lay there getting biopsied I was constantly thinking of how I'll write about this, how I'll talk to people about it later. Like, constructing the narrative in my head. I think it was a good way of kind of distancing myself from what was really happening. Becky said that she did the exact same thing. So at least, we are freaks together.

I'm gonna post more about it, but I'll cut to the chase now, cause I'm sure you have lives to attend to. After the biopsy, I put my shirt on and went next door and sat in the doctor's office. I sipped some water they brought me. My hand shook a little. Then, the doctor came in, along with a nurse who brought me a cup of tea. She told me what I already knew by then. It was cancer. Freaking, fracking cancer. (That is the title of my forthcoming book, I think.) She drew some diagrams for me, of milk ducts and cancer cells piling up, and invasive cancer stretching beyond the duct like a little claw. (Which is why it's called "cancer". Like the crab. I never knew that. Did you?)

We hoped at that point that I didn't have the claw. The needle biopsy had confirmed there were cancer cells, but the core biopsy she did wouldn't be back till the next day. So, late Friday afternoon she called me and told me what I didn't want to have to tell my family. There are cancer cells in the tissue surrounding the lump, too. Laying in our hallway on the phone, I wrote "invasive" on the piece of notebook paper I was taking notes on, then put my head down on it while I listened to her talk. The reality is, she said, it probably wouldn't change my treatment that much. I'd still need surgery either way, although it is now more likely I'll need chemotherapy too. Time will tell.

So, that was 5 days ago. Tomorrow, Jason and I are meeting with the surgeon to find out what happens next. I'm not sure when they'll schedule my surgery, but it will probably be soon. This is happening. And with what Becky went through, it is really the strangest deja vu.

I am okay. I am actually feeling fine, mostly. But I am nervous, nearly all the time. Like that tingly, butterfly feeling you get before a job interview or a leap off the high dive. But instead of going away as soon as you do the thing, it lasts for hours. It's draining after awhile. But I've found that exercise really helps it go away, so I'm gonna throw that tip out there for anyone who needs it.

Thanks for reading all this. I have more to say, can you believe? But I'm gonna save it for later. Can you pray for me, if you're a praying kind of person? Or even if you're not? I don't discriminate! I would really appreciate it. I am going to be fine, but I know I can't do this on my own. I also know I don't have to. Thanks, guys! I know this is "just" the Internets, but it sure feels real to me.

More soon. xoxo

Harrumph.

2012-02-01T21:18:00.001+11:00

I was all ready to do a chirpy the kids are back to school post for y'all. But this pic of them enjoying our traditional first day of school cupcakes is all the chirp I have in me at the moment.

I'm typing this out on my phone with one hand. The other hand is holding Ava's pink princess ice pack on my eye. I'm getting conjunctivitis (pink eye) again. Which is not as fun as it sounds.

I felt it coming on yesterday, and tonight, my eye is swelling up and getting redder by the moment. If the last time is any indication, by tomorrow I'll look like the Elephant Man. Also not as fun as it sounds.

I'm not having a very good attitude about it. Is that okay to admit? It's just an extreme annoyance in the midst of a busy week. Plus, with my eye all yucky and swollen, I'll be reluctant to go anywhere. Maybe I should don a mask--I could sweep through town all mysterious-like. I could be like the Phantom of the Opera! Too bad we don't have any catacombs.

Everything is fine and we are all well! There are a few emotionally taxing things going on right now with the church right now, though. Nothing terrible, just things we are trying to help with. That, with getting the kids back to
school, had my plate pretty full this week, which is why I'm so crotchety about getting pink eye. It's hard to chat with your kid's teacher or counsel someone when they're distracted by your ooky, swollen eye.

That's all. I just felt like whining, like a whining baby that whines. But I am okay, of course. I might be a little cranky for a few days though, and I thought you should know. In case you run into me or whatever.

Where are one's big girl panties when one needs them?

Oi oi oi!

2012-01-27T00:15:00.001+11:00

What did *you* do to celebrate Australia Day? Okay, okay...I guess that's not a fair question unless you live in Australia and/or are Australian. You guys are picky!

It's been raining buckets here, which altered our usual Australia Day plans of swimming and BBQs. So, we took the train into the city to check out the Australian Museum. It has the largest-ever exhibit of living Australians. (No it doesn't.)

Luckily, once we got downtown, the rain had paused, so we walked around Hyde Park, checking out the festivities. The rain picked up just as we were heading into the museum. Which has lots of great exhibits. The kids loved the skeleton room! Which is just what it sounds like. And of course, the dinosaurs. Duh, who doesn't love dinosaurs?

I think 4-6 dinosaur skeletons must come standard in any museum starter-pack. That, and rocks. Oh, and stuffed lions. That exhibit was kinda all, "Hey here are some lions! Which aren't actually found in Australia, but hello? They're LIONS. And they're awesome, and we want them in our museum."

No, but really, it's an excellent museum. The kids had a great time. And now, I've typed museum so many times that the word is starting to look weird to me. You know what I mean? Like, I'm forgetting how to spell it? Let's keep moving.

Funniest moment of the day: I was waiting in line with Ava and Nate so they could get their hair spray painted in funny colors. As you do. There was a little boy, about 4 years old, who had just had his hair sprayed bright red. The lady held up a little mirror to show him the results. He burst INSTANTLY into tears and started yelling in protest. Then, he put his hands on his head, staining them red, too. He just looked so horror-struck. Like, "This is NOT what I thought we were doing!"

Bless him, I'm sure I shouldn't think that was funny. Maybe you had to be there--he was all, "Why, God, whhyyyyy?" But I made sure not to laugh where he could see me. And don't worry, a lollipop from his mama calmed him down.

After the museum, (meuseum? No.) we walked back to the park to eat lunch. Grace was not receptive to any of the menu choices on offer. She kept yelling, "Chicken! Fries! Mom--chicken!!" So, while Jason took Ava and Nate to do one last activity, Grace and I hoofed it 4-5 blocks to the nearest McDonalds. Or I should say, I carried my 30lb toddler 4-5 blocks. Which, in ridiculously high levels of humidity, made me as dewy and fresh as a summer's morning by the time we got there.

Luckily, we rode the train home in air-conditioned comfort. And achieved the trifecta of a successful family outing: no one pooped their pants/threw up, somebody learned something new, and there were ice cream cones. Check, check, and check.

Happy Australia Day! Or, if you don't live in the Lucky Country, happy Thursday!!

Summer days, drifting away

2012-01-23T00:13:00.000+11:00

This week coming is our last week of summer holidays--school starts on Monday the 30th. It's flown by! I've said it before, but there's something quite nice about combining the excitement of Christmas with the relaxation of summer break. You should really try it sometime, if you haven't.

That's sort of why I haven't posted as much lately. Sorry I've been a bit MIA. Now, I know one of my sister's Rules of Life for Ladies is Never Apologize, Never Explain, but she is made of stronger stuff than me. I apologize a lot. Not as much as I used to, but still. I have a graduate degree in apology. I will say sorry for things I'm not even remotely connected with. People find it annoying sometimes, but what's a girl to do? I gotta be me.

Above are a few snapshots of what we've been up to. I'm posting from my phone, so I can't separate them as I normally would. I am now not going to apologize for that. It's been a nice break from routine. Jason and I have had a couple of work/ministry-related fires to put out, (holidays can be stressful for some folks) but overall we've had fun together and relaxed as a family.

Our friends even watched the kids for a day and a night so Jase and I could stay in the city! Overnight! In a hotel! Without a pack-n-play in our room! We walked all over the city. We browsed. We people-watched. We had dinner at a place that didn't EVEN have a kid's menu. As if such places exist! I'm probably imagining the whole thing.

This is what's happening in our world right now. I really can't complain! Ah, but lest you think it's perfect, here are some of my issues: Ava has an ear infection, Grace keeps saying "boobies!" in public, I am now so badly in need of a pedicure that I'm embarrassed to wear open-toe shoes, and there is a funny smell in our playroom-slash-extra-sitting-area. I'm not sure what that's about. I told Jase I think it might be the sofa, and he was like, "You and your smelling imaginary things. You always think it's the sofa! It's NOT the sofa!" And I was like, sorry, gah. (See? Apology!) And he was like, you're weird. And I was like, hmmph.

As the sage Kurt Cobain once said, Oh well, whatever, never mind.

That's all I got! I've missed y'all! Everybody okay out there?

This is how you know you've been watching too much Doctor Who instead of blogging

2012-01-16T22:56:00.009+11:00

Me: So, if I was Madame de Pompadour? And my life was in danger at Versailles? You'd find a way to come through the time portal to rescue me, right?

Jason: Sure, babe.

Me: Even if it meant that you'd be stuck in 18th century France forever?

Jason: (sighing) Of course.

Me: But what about those evil android clock thingies that want my brain to power their ship? Would you defeat them because I was so lovely and charming and beguiling, yet also tragic? And then stay with me forever, leaving your time-traveling spaceship behind?

Jason: Babe, if it meant being with you--wait. What about the kids? Would we have to leave them on the ship? Who'd take care of them?

Me: Jase! I'm Madame de Pompadour and you're Doctor Who. We don't have kids together? It's, like, alternate reality? Jeez.

Jason: I'm just not sure how we'd work all that out, is all.

Me: Shut up. Just start the next episode.

A Milestone of our Sydney lives

2012-01-03T11:25:00.007+11:00

This year, we decided to be brave and actually go somewhere for New Year's Eve. Like, with the kids and stuff. Let me make this clear for you: On New Year's Eve, we decided to take our 3 children and actually leave our house. And our neighborhood. At night. Late. I know--is my tale of valor inspiring you already?

Sydney's NYE fireworks display is spectacular. Each year, more than a million people pack into the city and shorelines of the harbour to see them. We'd never done it, because in previous years we've either been in the States, or I've been pregnant or we've had itty bitty kids. Or we've been wimps. Or all of the above.

A few weeks ago, some friends of ours told us about a spot they go to that doesn't get too overwhelmingly crowded. I'd heard stories before of friends going to the fireworks and it being so packed that they stood for hours and then didn't get home till 3am. Needless to say, we weren't signing up for that.

The nice thing, though, is that Sydney does fireworks at 9pm and midnight. So we decided to go for the earlier ones and then head home. Our spot was near a lovely suburb called Hunter's Hill. It's quite schmancy. I'm told Cate Blanchett lives there, so of course we fit right in.

So we parked our car and took a shuttle bus to a waterside park. All traffic in and out of the area was restricted to residents only. I'd anticipated huge crowds of people and tons of stress (such an optimist--it's one of the things Jason loves most about me), but we took the bus, arrived at the park, found a spot by the water and set up our picnic spot--easy as you please. I kept waiting for some asteroid to hurtle from the heavens to destroy us all, because this was just too easy.

See? Here we are, unscathed. It was a great vantage point too--you can't see it cause my gargantuan melon head is in the way, but the Harbour Bridge is behind us. The optimal view, I'm told, is on the other side of the bridge, near the Opera House. But that's why about a million people go there, and why we opted to stay in the 'burbs. I'm sure Cate would agree.

There was about 12 people in our group, and we just hung out waiting for the 9pm show. The kids ran around, the adults ate and played cards. It was fun to walk around and see what different groups were doing to entertain themselves during the wait. Cricket games, lots of card playing, guitar players, fishing. Here's our friend Matt with Grace--he is one of her favorites:

Finally, the sun started to set! It got a bit chilly with the wind coming off the water.The fireworks were great! Unfortunately I don't have any decent pictures to show you because Grace, who was sitting in my lap at the time, kept grabbing the phone to take her own photos. So they're all a bit blurry. But here's a professional photo of the midnight fireworks, which are quite a bit more showy than what we saw.

Now, that wasn't our view and like I said, those are the midnight fireworks. But still, it was a beautiful display and the kids loved it. And? It was at 9pm, not midnight. Yay!

After that we packed up and headed back to the buses. This was the longest wait of the night, as a lot of folks were going as well. But it was such a festive atmosphere that the wait to get on the bus wasn't bad at all.

There was this one guy, though. There is always this one guy. He led his little group up behind us, and was trying to get ahead of us to get on the bus. And I was all, "Jason! That guy's gonna try to cut in front of us. You need to s that d." (We've been watching 30 Rock lately, and Liz Lemon says that instead of "Shut that down.") So we were like, "Excuse me, we've been waiting here for over half an hour. You need to get in line." And he's all, "Please move toward the buses in an orderly fashion." In this really silly imperious tone of voice. And I was all, "What are you, the bus line captain? Be quiet." See, I can talk like that when I'm with Jason. And the guy was all, fine. And I was all, whatever.

And then we got on the bus. And here is the big finish, the happy ending: We were home by 11pm. I know. I know. And if you think I paused for a moment and reflected on how much my life has changed: that I'd actually be happy to be home by 11 on New Year's Eve, missing the grand finale fireworks show? You'd be wrong. I was asleep just before midnight.

S that D.

Mucho, of everything.

2011-12-25T11:56:00.001+11:00

We wish you a merry Christmas!

(Please don't be disturbed by the Crazy Eyes from Nate.)

We are knee deep in wrapping paper at the moment, and realizing that too many gifts we have require parental construction.

We also sat with the kids this morning, and talked about what Christmas means, and how our giving gifts is reflective of God's greatest Gift to us. Which I have a feeling they mostly endured so they could go on and open presents. But I'm *sure* it's sinking in. Right?

Later today and tomorrow, we'll be enjoying a Mexican feast. Our own Feliz Navidad! ¡Olé! We decided that when we're in Australia for the holidays, we wanted to start our own tradition--why not eat the food we like the most, instead of slaving over a turkey or ham? So we'll have shredded beef tacos, cheesy chicken, enchiladas, homemade salsa, spicy rice, and whatever else we can slather with cheese, sour cream, and salsa. ¡Muy bién!

Wherever you are and whatever you eat, I hope you have a wonderful day. May God bless you and yours. I'm sending you a big, cheese and sour cream infused smooch!

¡Feliz Navidad! (Can you tell I'm excited I figured out how to ¡ on my phone? ¡Wheeeeee!

He flies through the air with the greatest of ease

2011-12-22T20:07:00.010+11:00

Last Christmas, I was at a bit of a loss as to what to get Jason. He loves tech-y stuff, but whenever I go that route, I always get the wrong thing. He's gracious in receiving it of course, but then he inevitably returns it for the "right" thing. He has a 3 foot high pile of T-shirts and a lot of clothes, so I didn't want to give him more clothes either.

Then I remembered that a friend passing through Sydney had taken a class at Sydney Trapeze School. I checked, and you could buy a voucher for a single, 2 hour class that would teach you the basics of trapezing. (Let's just say that's a word.) As I've mentioned before, Jason was a springboard and platform diver for about 10 years.(Click the link to see some great photos!) And even though he doesn't dive anymore, he still has a love for heights, doing flips, and all-around general craziness. Here's the story I always tell to illustrate this: Once when we were still dating, he told me that when he saw a skyscraper, he'd daydream about how many flips he'd be able to do off the top before he blacked out and fell to his death. Yeah. Should that have been a red flag? Opposites attract, I guess.

So, obviously, a voucher to the Sydney Trapeze School was a no-brainer! And he was excited when he opened the envelope on Christmas morning last year. But you know how it is. The year got busy, the weekends filled up, we traveled--life ensued. Finally, last week I reminded him that the voucher was only good for a year and that it's now or never. So, he got online and booked a spot for that coming Saturday. We decided to make it a family affair--it's not everyday your husband/dad swings on the trapeze. Unless you're a Wallenda.

The school is on the complete other end of the city from our house--it took us over an hour to get there, with traffic. With Grace asking every 45 seconds where we were going. But once we got there, Jason dove right in. There were about 5-6 others in his class, and the instructors had them up there pretty quickly, with very little preamble.

And away he went! It looked like fun. I mean, for him. I was quite happy on the ground, even though he was cabled in and there was a huge net underneath.

Look at his expression! Loving it. So, the instructors have everyone practice going up, swinging from their hands, and then pulling their knees up and hooking over the bar. Then, you unhook your knees and swing till they tell you to drop. Jase did this 3 times maybe? Then the male instructor came over and explained to the group how to swing from their knees and then let him catch them from another trapeze bar. As he grabbed their hands they were to let go of the bar with their knees and swing to victory. I eyed the instructor with doubt. He was strong, but lean. Jason is not a small guy. In fact, Jason wandered over and mentioned that he was on the upper end of what the instructor could catch! Hmmm. Good thing for those cables, right?

Okay, so then the instructor goes over to the other side of the net, and grabs hold of this thick rope that's suspended from the ceiling. He then proceeds to climb up the rope, hand over hand, his legs held outward in a perfect split. All the way up to the second trapeze bar, where he lets go of the rope and climbs on. It was amazing, watching him just climb up that rope like it was nothing. I'm going to let you in on a well-known but seldom discussed fact. When you see a display like that, you can't help but develop a small, temporary crush on whoever is doing it. Look--it's like, a law of nature or something. I didn't write the law, okay? Yet like all other humans on this planet, I am subject to its dictates. So there it is.

Most of the students weren't able to get the timing right on the catch part. I can imagine it would be pretty nerve-wracking up there. Even if your mind knows you're hooked in and there's a net underneath you, your body doesn't always respond to that. The first go, Jason didn't hear the instructor's command at the right time, so he missed the cue. But the second time, he got it! Duh, of course. (I have a secret belief that he can pretty much do anything. Except spell, which is why I'm here.)

Here's my first attempt to embed a video. This column is too narrow on the blog to show the whole width of the picture, but it gives you a good idea.

Yay! (Did you catch Ava calling me "Mum"? Such a little Aussie.) By then, our 2 hours were up and the class was over. He had a great time, but I could tell he really wanted to get up there again and try multiple flips off the bar. I asked him if he'd wanna give it another go, take another class--but he said no. It's just too far away from our house, and it would get pricy. Ah, the realities of life settling in as you return to earth. But it was fun while it lasted!

21st Century Issues: Holiday Edition

2011-12-18T06:32:00.001+11:00

--When you find yourself rummaging around your sleeping 8 year old's room at 11:30 pm, looking for her iPod Touch. Why? Well, after returning home from late night Christmas shopping, you realize with a gasp that your Christmas list, which you've been updating on your iPhone, might be syncing itself to her iPod. Cause of the iCloud. And she could find it and read it and that would be iBad. iSheesh!

--When your 8 year old already has an iPod Touch. Yes, you are those parents.

In the meadow, we can build a snowman.

2011-12-09T13:38:00.004+11:00

Maybe you've been listening to too much Christmas music when you start to analyze the lyrics.

"To face unafraid, the plans that we've made..."

Isn't that a bit foreshadowing? I mean, "Winter Wonderland" is such a cheerful, whimsical song, until you get to this line. What plans have they made that could be so full of uncertainty? What troubles are they facing, that may be heading their way after New Year's? Here they are, roaming the frigid countryside, steeling themselves for what's to come.

I've been thinking about this. No really, I have! I think it could be in reference to the fact that they want to get married. "In the meadow we can build a snowman. And pretend that he is Parson Brown. He'll say, 'Are you married?' We'll say, 'No, man, but you can do the job when you're in town."

Here's this young couple, hiding on the outskirts of town. They've resorted to roaming through a snow-covered meadow, for the chance to be alone. Who knows, maybe they're being pursued. They build a snowman to act out their own wedding, because maybe it falls outside of the plans their parents have for them. Forbidden love? Oh, I think so.

This song is clearly fraught with suspense, fear, and uncertainty. Even the title "Winter Wonderland" is this couple's attempt at irony. Here they are, in their own icy prison, kept from being together by societal pressures and expectations. "A beautiful sight, we're happy tonight"--but in the morning we go home to the awful fate that awaits us. Chilling.

Your thoughts? I really think there is a lot to work with here. And don't even get me STARTED on the implications of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town". ("He sees you when you're sleeping..."). And "I'll Be Home For Christmas" is one of the more tragic songs of our era.

Aaaaannnd, I think I've just found a thesis topic.

Merry Christmas, everybody! Be of good cheer!

Duped!

2011-12-07T21:45:00.008+11:00

The other night, Jason and I were watching an episode of 30 Rock. We are just now getting into this show and loving it! Yes, we are like 5 years behind. Ever since Jason used his voodoo magic skills to get us Netflix instant streaming, we've been catching up on all the American shows we've missed.

In the episode the other night, there's a scene where Will Arnett's character is eating a hot dog. "Oh man, that makes me want a hot dog--a really good American style one," I said to Jase. Australia has many, many merits: gorgeous scenery and outdoor life, free quality healthcare, and friendly locals, to name a few. But they have not quite mastered the hot dog.

However, I knew where I could get one. You see, back in April, Costco opened here in Sydney. That was arguably the best day of Jason's life, as Costco is his happy place. (More about that here.) I mean, he'd say that marrying me and the births of our three children were his best days...but I mean, he has to say that, doesn't he?

So, the next day I texted Jason. "Can you take a lunch break and go to Costco with me? I WANT A HOT DOG." And off we went.

See? It doesn't take much to make me happy. Just a 30 minute drive through traffic for a $1.49 hot dog. WHICH WAS AWESOME.

But then, as I finished my hot dog and the crazed look died out of my eyes, I realized. We'd been taken in. Hoodwinked. Hornswoggled. Bamboozled. By Costco and Will Arnett and his hot dog eating ways. "You realize what's about to happen, don't you?" I asked Jason. "We're about to go in there," I said, pointing behind me, "And spend a lot of money." Because--hello!--it's Costco. And there are buffalo wings in there. And 50 yards of Christmas ribbon for only $9. And mud cake. And exercise balls that come with the DVD! And are we really gonna drive across town and fight for a parking space and not go in? Ohhhh no.

And so we did. And so we spent. And that is the story of how a $1.49 hot dog cost me $200.

These advertising people are genius. Genius, I say! It's not even advertising, though, cause the show that showed the hot dog has nothing to do with Costco!

OR DOES IT?

Hoodwinked!

Special Snowflakes

2011-12-05T22:25:00.005+11:00

Today, Jason accompanied Ava on her class' excursion to a local environmental centre. They had a great time going out into the bush, catching bugs in the swamp, and then looking at them under magnifiers and stuff. But don't worry; no bugs were harmed in the making of this field trip. Here she is with a praying mantis on her shirt:
She said its eyes "looked evil". Wow.

I was asking Jason about how the day went and he said it was a fun day, and that the kids really enjoyed themselves. He mentioned that there was one boy in Ava's class who was pretty unruly. He described him to me, and I knew who he was.

This boy's mom once spent 10 minutes explaining to me that her son acts up in class so much because he's really smart and gets bored easily. She went on and on and on about how intelligent her son is, and that he needs to be challenged more, and that this is why he has behavioral problems. Mmmm Hmmm. Oh good grief. Do moms still do this to other moms? I guess we do. I mean, I'm sure this kid is very smart. In fact, he could possibly be bored in class. That's not even the point. But really, other mom who I barely know? This is our first conversation? In which you humblebrag about your own child while making my child and her other classmates sound dumb by comparison?

It's like, that's not how we play the game. Step one is establish rapport. Step two is take an interest in the other person. Step three is brag on your own kid if you feel the need. That's in my handbook, isn't it in yours?

I'm sure I've done things like this too, without realizing it. I guess every parent wants reassurance that their child is special. I think sometimes our insecurities find their way into conversations--even with strangers. Thank goodness that my children actually are special and amazing! Phew! That's a relief. I can't imagine what it must be like to be all those other parents, with boring, average children.

Anyway! Today I was cleaning up the kitchen from Hurricane Weekend, and I found this note on our kitchen table:

It reads: "Stop touching EVERYTHING YOU SEE!" Oh man, I really laughed when I saw this. I think Ava must've written it awhile back--it was in a pile of craft stuff the kids had pulled out. So I don't know what it's really in reference to. I'm sure it had something to do with her brother. I love that it has the feel of someone just really needing to vent. Like how the last half of the sentence is in all-caps? Bless her. It's like the note-version of screaming into your pillow or something. Actually, maybe she was taking dictation, cause I'm pretty sure I've said that to Grace before, especially in public restrooms. Never mind.

But really, it's pretty good advice. I don't have to touch everything I see. Deep. I tried to take it to heart today. But I wasn't so successful with the dark chocolate and hazelnut bar after dinner tonight. Sorry, Ava. I'll try harder.

Chrishaps!

2011-11-30T21:11:00.007+11:00

I'm sitting here at the window, blogging by the light of our LED icicle lights. Nothing says "Christ is born" like dangly lights you can see from space! Jason put them up yesterday, and they are so bright. I'm worried we're going to accidentally divert air traffic to our balcony. Last night, I sat up way too late watching TV, cause I didn't realize how late it was...the Christmas lights were so bright outside that it made it seem much earlier in the evening. Ha. They are probably a bit much, but our neighbors have them too, so I figure we can look crazy and over the top together.

That got me thinking today about Christmas mishaps...hey, this'll be fun--let's call them "Chrishaps!" Where's that little "TM" symbol when you need it? Whether through excitement, mistake, or zeal; weird stuff goes down during the holidays.

Today, Grace and I went to the shopping centre. I was trying to distract her from crying and being grumpy. It didn't really work, if you're keeping score at home. Her rough night last night may have actually been due to something, as she's been pulling at her ear this afternoon. But anyway! There are these nativity scenes that are everywhere right now--in most shopping centers that you go to. They're all exactly the same. They must be made by the same people and then perhaps donated out? Cause I see them everywhere. I'll never forget, one year when Nate was small he saw one and ran to it shouting, "Look! It's baby Moses!"

Of course, I was impressed by the fact that, even at 3, he understood that Moses was a biblical "type", a foreshadowing of Jesus. Most preschoolers don't have that depth of biblical interpretation. We are very proud.

So today, Grace and I walked up to look at the nativity scene. Anything strike you as odd? Well, aside from the fact that Mary and Joseph are dressed like a wealthy folks from the Renaissance era? As far as I know, Palestinian teenagers didn't really wear velvet. The dry cleaning bills were too expensive. No, to me it's the sheep! That's like the hugest, puffiest sheep I've ever seen! I don't know if it seems this way in the photo, but it looks like the birth of the Christ child is being invaded by livestock with glandular problems. It's kind of distracting.
Look at that! Those sheep are about to knock Joseph over and make off with the myrrh! I stood there today, taking a few photos and remarking on the size of the sheep till Grace started pulling on my dress, going, "Mama--home. Home!" I guess I got a little carried away.

Speaking of carried away, I thought of another chrishap (y'all wait--it's gonna catch on!) today. A few years ago, Becky and I were shopping in TJ Maxx right before Christmas. When I visit the States, we take several late night trips there to caress the handbags and such. Anyway, we were in the back of the store, and started looking at this rack of very festive Christmas shawls. Actually, they were more like capes. They were really elaborate! Some were velvet or satin, many were even edged with faux fur. All these rich, jewel tones. We were holding a couple, looking through the racks. A little mystified at how fancy they were--like, where would you wear these? A holiday opera, perhaps?

And then we realized.

They weren't capes. They were Christmas tree skirts. Can you imagine if we'd bought one to wear? Scarlett O'Hara wearing the drapes comes to mind! Or even better, Carol Burnett as Scarlett wearing the drapes.
Ha! Hilarious. We felt a little sheepish. Chrishaps!

And let's not forget, my brother Dave's HOLIDAYS! sweatshirt from years ago. If you haven't before, please give yourself an early Christmas pressie and go read Becky's post about how and why my brother made this sweatshirt back in college. Keep in mind, he and his friends did this before those "ugly Christmas sweater parties" were popular. Just gluing and cutting felt, like college dudes do. Festive for the holidays! That has to be one of my all-time favorite chrishaps.

So go on, then! Any favorite chrishaps to share? Any ill-advised house decorations, gifts, or crazy stuff you've seen while about? Tell all.

--You guys! I made it! I blogged every darn day in November. It's been fun chatting with y'all. Thanks for indulging me. Tomorrow is December 1st--the first day of summer in this part of the world. School is out in about 2 weeks, Christmas is coming, good things are on the horizon! I'll be back real soon. Now, please return your tray tables to their upright positions and turn off your electronic devices.

xoxo, Amy

Reasons your 2 year old is waking up at night

2011-11-29T21:16:00.003+11:00

1. She's mulling over your earlier conversation about playing with scissors. She feels misunderstood.

2. You didn't shell out the big bucks for one of those fancy organic crib mattresses. And now she's dealing with all those synthetic fibers. Why are you so cheap and selfish?

3. She can't get over it: Why doesn't Big Nutbrown Hare just give up, and allow Little Nutbrown Hare to say he loves Big Nutbrown Hare the most? Why this constant one-upmanship? Is this some sort of love competition? It just feels wrong, that's all.

4. It's hot, could you turn the fan on? Oh, now it's too windy--could you angle it a little bit? Wait, you angled it too much. Could it be aimed from my toes to my stomach, but not above? I'm sorry...this really isn't going to work.

5. Well, you didn't really meet her needs all that well today, did you? And now she's waking up in that darkened room and feeling lonely. That's probably because of some way that you messed up. Maybe you could've hugged her a little more, and prevented that. Nice work, You.

6. She knows you're trying to finish that episode of 30 Rock.

7. She refused to eat her dinner...and then you were tyrannical and didn't let her have a brownie. She might be hungry and it's your fault. Maybe you should drag her out of bed and feed her.

8. There is an international sleep strike planned among 2 year olds, and she is the union vice president. It's amazing that you haven't figured that out by now. All those back room planning meetings and such. Sucker.

9. Let's be honest, it's kind of fun to watch you grope around in the dark for her pacifier. She hides it before you get in there.

10. She's messing with your head.

Wow. Well, that was very healing.

2011-11-28T22:17:00.004+11:00

Last week I took Grace to our local garden centre, which has a cafe and indoor playground. Just outside the cafe is a pond with ducks in it. Grace loves to go out there and I always resist it. Why? Cause that pond has koi fish in it.

I can't stand koi fish. They totally gross me out. This is my confession.

Are you repelled by something for no real reason? For me, it's koi fish. At this particular little pond, the fish are used to getting fed, so they swarm at this one area. Grace always goes and stands there. She bends down against the railing, talking to them, and wants me to bend down too. "Ugh, Grace--I am so grossed out right now. Can we just go back to the playground? Please?" (Sometimes I find myself talking to her like she's an adult.) "No!" she says, pointing at the water, "Stay fish!" She is only satisfied if I squat down next to her, down near the surface of the water. And those fish, so big and squirmy and orange...their mouths gape open and rise above the surface of the water. Open and close, open and close. Their big black eyes stare at me vacantly. Stop staring at me, freaky fish! Ugh, it skeeves me out all over again just writing about it.

Okay, seriously--those gaping mouths, and how they just swarm around each other! And they look at you all askance like that? Gross, right? It gives me the shivers. Never trust a koi fish.

For years now, whenever I'd be around one of those decorative pond things that had koi in them, I'd feel this vague uneasy feeling. I just didn't like them, and they creeped me out. But I didn't know why. Oh, the unsearchable depths of the human heart. Am I right, guys?

Then one day, I remembered. As a kid, my pediatrician's office was in a medical centre. The grounds outside it were landscaped quite nicely, with a garden and little waterways. There were little wooden footbridges over the water that you'd take to get into the building. And, I hope you don't mind taking this painful journey with me, but you know where this is going don't you?

In these little ponds outside the doctor's office were koi fish. Those squirmy, wormy, gape-mouthed fish. And we'd always stop and watch them swim around. As a kid, I don't remember being bugged by them. But I think, that over the course of years I must've associated seeing them with feeling crappy. Every time I had an ear infection, a sore throat, a stomach bug, or needed immunizations, I saw koi fish. Just there, swimming and looking at me while I felt so yuck.

Those stupid, stupid, ugly, stupid head fish.

LOL, guys! I'm kidding. A little. Except for the part about koi fish being totally disgusting. That's no joke. The human brain is a strange thing...I actually feel physically uncomfortable when Grace and I are there at that little pond, watching the fish. It's like this visceral reaction that I have to being around them. And I'm always relieved when I can finally convince her to go elsewhere.

What about you? What grosses you out that everyone else is cool with? Is it feet? Black olives? Soggy cereal? Dental floss? This is a safe place. Let's just get the feelings and emotions flowing up in here.

Just Some Facts

2011-11-27T23:11:00.004+11:00

Things I Will Do Until The Sun Burns Down to a Tiny, Crispy Nugget:

1. Make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches

2. Sweep. Oh my gosh with the sweeping. Sweeping up crap, all the day.

3. Pick up lego pieces.

4. Okay, I lied about number 3. How about: sweep lego pieces out of the way with the side of my foot, so that no one steps on them and teaches Grace new words to say.

5. Look for my glasses.

6. Watch Jane Austen film adaptations on YouTube.

7. Match up renegade socks.

Scientific Facts I Have Learned:

1. If your children are screaming, yet the door is closed between you and them, it's like the screaming isn't happening.

2. The kind of snacks you have in your diaper bag at any given moment will, by virtue of their existence in space and time, be the absolute wrong snacks to have at that time. You should have brought the other ones. And now, everything is so awful and it's your fault. How does that feel?

3. Steve from Blue's Clues is only cute because you've been watching him for 4 episodes straight. No, Jason would not look good in a green striped rugby shirt. Take it out of your online shopping cart.

4. Okay, fine. Steve from Blue's Clues is kind of cute in a nerdy, earnest kind of way. On the purely objective Kids' TV Host Attractiveness Scale (KTVHAS), he skews slightly higher than DJ Lance but doesn't rate as high as Matt from Play School. Oh, hi Matt. Didn't realize you were here.

Science, you guys. It's science, okay?

5. Okay, this is called logic. Are you ready? Thinking about doing something around the house is basically the same thing as doing it. Cause it's, like, rehearsal. Sometimes rehearsals are more laid back and fun, cause people are more relaxed in them. Therefore, ergo, and in summation, thinking about doing something around the house is better than actually doing it.

6. The amount of fun being had between siblings is directly proportional to the amount of tears and tattletaling that is about to happen in the immediate future.

These are definitely things we can know for sure.

I really don't even know.

2011-11-26T23:01:00.006+11:00

Tonight was our belated Thanksgiving celebration at our friends Holly and Jeremy's place. Holly is from Huntsville, Alabama and Jeremy is from New Zealand. She's an amazing cook and, on her last trip to the US, filled her suitcase with everything needed for a full-on Southern American feast. French fried onions, pie crusts, Caro syrup, cornmeal, even Thanksgiving-themed plates and napkins! Impressive, indeed. It was delicious, made even more so by the fact that we knew were getting to do something out of the ordinary. Though, since Costco has opened here, some brands we miss are a little easier to come by. And at the party tonight, rumors spread like wildfire that Dr. Pepper is now available in the International section at one of the major supermarkets here! Not that I really like Dr. Pepper! But still! I could drink it if I wanted to!

Jason was out all day for a men's retreat at church, so the kids and I mostly stayed home and I cooked. Nate had two back-to-back birthday parties, and I babysat my friend's two kids. It was slightly nuts but not too bad. Oh--and apparently Grace is auditioning for the sequel of Black Swan, cause she came downstairs like this:

Yeah, she found my mascara--my good one, too. I still don't know where it is.
Just do what she wants and no one gets hurt. Yikes, that photo does look a little bad seed-ish, doesn't it? I say that in love.

And in conclusion, I will now tell you that my abdominal muscles are still sore from a Sh'Bam class that I took on Monday. Remember Sh'Bam? It's the dance aerobics class where the instructor told us to stir the pot with the spoon up our rears? Yeah, you should go read that.

Anyway, I really threw myself into this one move (Not the spoon one! Yikes!) and I'm still paying for it, 5 days later. What can I say? I'm committed to my art. Oh! There is this one guy in there though, who is selling it, y'all! I mean, he really loves this class! He's the only dude in there, but is very flamboyantly into it. Both times I've been there, he ends up next to me, and the whole time, makes these little "whoosh" sounds through his teeth. Like sound effects for the dance moves. I know! And he does jazz hands, too. He also wears white knee socks. the ones with the colored stripes at the top. I'm not making this up. It is kind of awesome to see.

The world really is full of interesting people. I would just like him to give me a little more dance space, is all. I know this is all off-topic, but I have really needed to talk about this to someone.

Well, this is less like a blog post and more like a brain dump. It must be the effect of the sweet potato casserole, pumpkin pie, and creamed corn that I ate tonight as if the world were ending tomorrow. It's like I don't even know what I'm going to say next. Are you doing okay? Anyone dancing all up in your area? Yeah, that can be rough.

Somebody else's photos

2011-11-25T20:42:00.014+11:00

When we moved here in 2005, we didn't bring much with us. We gave away or sold most of our furniture, stored some things in our parents' garages, and packed 10 big boxes of stuff to bring over. Most of that was clothes and books. The only furniture we brought with us was Ava's crib and a big comfy rocking chair that I loved. Over the years, we've furnished our house with Ikea purchases, garage sale finds and even a little curbside shopping. (Read about some great finds here.) And although I miss my big comfy armchair that I had back in Dallas, and our dining room table, I haven't really thought about it much.

One thing that we don't have much of here is photos from our childhoods. Most of those are still with our parents, and every now and then it strikes me that I really need to get them to send me some. Take photos of the photos or something. Hmmm, I probably should've thought of that when we were there...oh, 6 weeks ago. Sheesh. I need a personal assistant or something. I do have a few of my childhood. I had my mom send me this one when I realized how much I looked like Grace as a baby:Nakey baby alert! Anyway, I was pleased to see that Jason brought back a stack of photos from his parents with him when he arrived a couple of weeks ago. I think one of my projects for next year (ha! as if I'm that organized!) is gonna be to get some of our photos together. The kids love to see them, and so do we.

I hope you'll indulge me in posting some of these...but hey, it is a personal blog, right? And what could be more personal? Plus, hey! I'm blogging everyday--yay! Here's a great one of Jason's parents at their wedding: Love it! Look at that veil--so pretty, I think. And her hair! How did she get it to go so high without the benefit of a bumpit?? There must be some sort of canned good hiding in there or something.

I loved this one of Jason, too...I see him still make this intent, determined expression all the time.Of course, now expressions like this are not usually directed at sand castles, but at Grace when she is screaming and pounding her tiny fists into the floor. Or when he is on the phone with our internet service provider, trying to get a better deal. Nate makes this face, too.

Jason and I met because he transferred to our university to be a part of the swimming and diving team. He began diving when he was 12 (I think?). It was such a central aspect of his life when we met, and long before. (By the way, he's asleep right now...I hope he doesn't mind me posting these. "Hey babe, I put your speedo-ed butt on the interwebs!")

Boring! Like, I can totally do that. No really, photos from my life at this stage wouldn't be nearly as interesting. "Um, here I am at the school spelling bee. Here's me at the spelling bee the following year." "Here I am, about to finish a Star Trek: The Next Generation novel." I mean, I did stuff...it just didn't photograph as well.

I need to do a better job of keeping up with old photos of us. I remember as a child, looking at my parent's pictures. It's probably time we had some of ours as well. This probably sounds weird...in my mind, that's one of the things that signifies you're a grownup big person--that your parents don't hang on to all that stuff for you anymore. I mean of course they have it too, but at some stage it needs to be yours, too. Mom, that does not mean I want you to send me all my high school essays. Or that cat lifestyle magazine Betsy and I made that one time. Some things are better left hidden away forever.

What signifies "grownupness" to you? Please, I could use the help.

Merry, Merry King of the Bush is He

2011-11-24T22:58:00.008+11:00

Do you know that song? "Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree..."? I don't know how we knew it, but we sang it in my little Florida elementary school, along with reading the book "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day". You know, the one where Alexander goes on and on about what a terrible day he's had, and the refrain is, "I think I'll move to Australia." Because to him--and to us at that time, I guess--Australia seemed about the farthest place in the world from where we were. A place to get away from everybody who was bugging you.

It's funny how life sends you little previews of what's to come sometimes. Like in 1999, a few months before we got married, Jason remarked to me, "I wouldn't mind ending up in Australia someday." This because he'd met some really cool Aussies while backpacking in Europe. (Note: Aussies are probably the most fun travel-buddies ever. Plus, they're everywhere in Europe: fact.)

And when he said that, it just seemed like the most far-fetched thing ever. I dismissed it without another thought. Hah!

Anyway--the kookaburra! Today, Grace and I were sitting out on our balcony when one landed on the railing. This isn't all that uncommon really, but I pointed him out to her. We see them regularly, but not always up close like this. And this guy was less shy than most, he hung around for awhile.

Grace decided to walk down to that end of the balcony and say hello. Literally; "Hi, bird."

As Jason was taking this photo, I realized that kookaburra was really eyeing the bread she had in her hand. And I remembered a couple years ago when we went to the zoo, a kookaburra had swooped down at the food court and stolen a chicken nugget right out of Nate's hand. The ethics of a kookaburra eating chicken notwithstanding, Nate had been pretty startled that day! And the way this one was eyeing her snack, I thought he was about to do the same. See? I don't know if you can tell from the photo, but he was totally zoning in on it. So I went over and grabbed it from her and took it inside.

About an hour later, Grace was inside, sitting at the kitchen table eating lunch. I wasn't in the room, but Jase said the kookaburra came back and landed on the railing again--right outside the (closed) sliding glass door. He said the bird just sat there, looking in while she ate. Hmmm, can birds be wistful?

Sorry, mate. No PB&J for you. Just a few dozen more of you and we'll have an Alfred Hitchcock movie on our hands.

--Hey! Are you Thanksgiving-ing? If so, happy day to you! Ingest large amounts of casserole, cornbread and turkey on my behalf. And tell someone you're thankful for them. Just like I am for you. Awwww. xoxo

Life's rich tapestry

2011-11-23T22:49:00.001+11:00

Oh, Nablopomo, you are a harsh master sometimes! Here I am again, blogging via iPhone on a wee little 3G signal.

I told y'all yesterday that our Internet is way slow for a couple more days...so this is where we find ourselves. But don't worry--we've got each other! (Isn't that in the Growing Pains theme song? Or is it Family Ties? "Rain or shine--all the time!")

Anyway. I haven't mentioned...it's been raining. Today it was more rain. With the rainy raining of the rain, not to mention the general raininess off the last 3 days, we haven't gotten out much. I'm starting to get how I get when we don't go out much. Here are some things that happened. Please skim for your enjoyment and information:

--Grace and I went to the gym. Well, she went to childcare there and I tried the step aerobics class for the 2nd time. I told my sister, and she was all, "Oh, is it 1993?" LOL, Beck. L. O. L. I thought that maybe this time I would find all the combinations and steps easier to follow. Um, no. The instructor was very sympathetic, though.

--I made 4 peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for Grace. Four. She calls them "jellies", as in: "Mom--jelly!" like a surgeon asking for the next instrument. She asked for one about 9 times, so I figure I did okay in only making 4.

--I made 2 quesadillas for Grace and 1 for Nate. My life involves a lot of tortillas. Have I ever told you that before? It's true. Tortillas and peanut butter, all the live-long day.

--I nearly cleaned all the bathrooms 2 times. Wait, that sounds misleading. I don't mean that I cleaned all the bathrooms 2 times, I mean that I almost *started* to do it 2 separate times, and then didn't. I blame the rain. Sometimes it's disheartening to do chores you just did a few days before. Like when you shave your legs, and then a month later? You gotta do it again.

--That is an old joke I stole from Bette Midler.

--I built about 6 Lego towers today "with" Grace. She knocked them all down. It's like she doesn't appreciate my work, you know? I also built an awesome Lego throne for Barbie. You shoulda seen it, it was sweet. Grace? Knocked it down.

--Nate went on a school excursion today to a farm. He says he milked a cow. I didn't believe him at first, but his hand motions looked pretty darn accurate.

--Ava is auditioning with a friend tomorrow for the school talent show. She and her friend are singing and dancing to that Katy Perry song, "Firework". Hmmm. I'm not sure if they've really practiced much, but I'm trying not to be a helicopter parent and am just letting them go for it. I'm impressed too...there is NO WAY I would've done something like that in 2nd grade!

--Tonight I went back to the gym for Pilates. (Twice in one day is rare for me.) The instructor had us doing all kinds of exercises with those giant bouncy balls. Are you good at those? What's the secret? Please tell me.

--I have very poor balance. I almost rolled right off that ball about 6 times. I was grunting, a little. This instructor was also very sympathetic. I was trying very hard just to balance on my hands and knees, much less do all the stuff she was asking!

--After a few grueling (for me) sets of pushups on the ball, she said: "If you're finding these increasingly impossible to do, that's good. It means you've performed to failure, and you've pushed yourself further for next time."

--Or something like that. My arms were shaking so badly on the pushups that I was having trouble focusing. But I thought that phrase, "performed to failure" was really interesting. At least, it gives me a new perspective on my workouts. "Oh no, I'm not asphyxiating back here and tripping over my feet. I'm performing to failure--it's all good."

It's 'sposed to rain the rest of the week. Perhaps you'd like to stop by for a jelly? Or could I interest you in a Lego Barbie throne? You don't find those everywhere, you know.

Sent from my iPhone

I probably need to get a bunch of cats.

2011-11-22T22:00:00.004+11:00

Today, we made the sad realization that we've exceeded our internet download usage for the month. While Jason was away, I rented a few movies on iTunes, and then we rented a few when he got back, and the kids watched a couple...and it just got out of hand, you know? Nobody means for these things to happen! But sometimes you just get carried away.

So, we still have internet but it just slooooowwwwws waaaaaaaayyy doooooooowwwwwwwwwn till the new billing cycle begins. Which--thank you, sweet Lord above--is in 2 days. I know, right? First world problems. But I would appreciate your prayers for my family and me as we navigate this challenging time.

All this watching movies at home has got me thinking, though. I think I'm more suited to it than going to the theatre. I mean, I really enjoy the experience of going out to a movie. But I much prefer the ability to pause and discuss. Whether I didn't understand the legal nuances of Matthew McConaughey's strategy in The Lincoln Lawyer... (What? I never said I was smart. But I confess I never thought I'd write "didn't understand" and "Matthew McConaughey" in the same sentence.)...Or I feel a really strong need to tell Jason right now that that's Josh Groban in Crazy, Stupid Love, I think my movie watching persona is truly given wings with at-home viewing.

Okay, for serious. I really don't think I'm an annoying movie talker. But I do talk during movies. A little. Do you? I don't talk over dialogue, though. I have very strong feelings about that. I wait until the music plays or until lighthearted falling-in-love and/or makeover montage. But I just feel that sometimes colorful commentary is needed in a movie! You know? And I can provide that colorful commentary. Perhaps I needed to tell someone during The King's Speech that Lionel Logue's wife is Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice, even though she looks so different! Really! Can you believe! It's her, do you see? These types of things cannot wait till the end of the movie! And your viewing is enhanced by knowing these things in the moment, don't you see?

I've noticed lately, since living here and going to the movies with girlfriends, that not everyone does this like I'd previously thought. So I don't know if it's partially cultural? I mean, we Americans are known to be blabbermouths, right? I have an American friend here, Holly, and when we go to the movies, we both chat back and forth a little. But when I saw the last Harry Potter movie with my friend Jules, I noticed that she was very quiet. Like, she didn't say a word the whole movie! Who does that? I felt a little self-conscious. Then one time, I went to see a movie with my friend Di. I'd whispered to her a few times--all very interesting tidbits, mind you!--and then realized that she hadn't been reciprocating. Maybe she doesn't like the movie, I thought. During a pause in dialogue I whispered, "Hey are you ok?" "Yeah," she whispered back. "Well," I said, "It's just that you're awfully quiet." She looked at me like I was nuts. "I'm watching. A movie," she said. "Oh yeah," I said. She had a point.

And even though I realized (after the fact) how redonk I sounded in asking her that, it really did feel strange to me that we weren't conversing more. I think part of it is that, to me, going to the movies with someone is a shared experience. And I feel the need to, I don't know, check in with the other person during the movie? Is that weird? I mean, part of the joy of seeing a movie is looking at the person next to you after something crazy or funny or shocking happens and going, "Girl, no. Did you see that??" Sometimes you just need to debrief, right there and then. But now I see that I am probably in the minority here. What about you? Do you talk during movies? Or do you want to dump your $8 Coke over the heads of people like me?

Perhaps I'm better off at home, with my pause button. Sniff.

State of Grace. And Ava. And Nate.

2011-11-21T20:20:00.007+11:00

Jason and I had a pow wow about the kids the other morning. We sat out on our balcony and did the whole "State of the Kids" discussion. It was kind of impromptu actually, but since all 5 of us have been back together again, it had become apparent that we needed to regroup a little. We talked about how they're doing and how we're doing in parenting them. We're kind of at a stage with all three where we need to tweak our approach. With Ava and Nate, cause they're getting older--and the "currency" that mattered to them before doesn't anymore. Plus, like I've mentioned, they are maturing and asking more questions and able to "handle" more. Which necessitates that we change, too. (We're really making this up as we go!) And we have to adjust our strategies with Grace, cause she's entering that stage--you know the one--and because we've been a little lax with her. She's just too darn cute!

Now, I know the 2 year olds in your life are adorable, too. Ha--it's like that joke: "You are a unique and special snowflake in the universe...just like everybody else." But we sure like our little snowflake. Even if she demands her way--no really, she will stand up to complete strangers and tell them to move if they're occupying a spot she wants. Even if she is now refusing to eat any and all fruit. Even if she has started wanting to wipe her own bottom during diaper changes...the horror!

Sometimes it's easier to talk about Grace on the blog, cause the silly stuff she does is more universal 2 year old behavior. I've found that I'm starting to be more careful with what I share about Ava and Nate...they're older of course, and I'd never want them to be embarrassed by what they might read here. So, though I might mention that Nate dancing around with his undies on his head, I won't specify if it was boxer briefs or Spiderman tighty whities. That kind of thing. Very circumspect.

Although Grace is in a "challenging" phase at the moment, she's also pretty stinking hilarious to us, too. Today I called my parents on FaceTime, so that Grace could see them. It was evening in Florida, and my mom was already wearing her nightgown. The nightgown is probably not normally featured on a live trans-oceanic transmission. It's usually reserved for at-home events only--picture something you might find in the "mature woman" section at Wal-Mart. (Mom, I say this in love.) Anyway, the instant Mom and Dad come up on the screen, Grace exclaims: "Grandma!! Pretty dress!" It made us laugh, but obviously I need to do some work with Grace on fashion and textiles. What do you think--flashcards, maybe? Then, later my dad was teasing her and put his bearded face up close to the camera, acting like he was trying scratch her with it. "No!" she called out, "Wipe!" And she ran and got a baby wipe and started trying to clean my iPhone screen.

I can remember, as a very little girl, watching Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood and imagining that if I could just break through the glass, I could step through the frame of the TV and be in that world. It struck me today, that for Grace, FaceTime and webcams are the equivalent. It's a crazy, amazing thing.

For me so far, the challenge of parenting is knowing what to let slide, and what to address, deal with, work on. This could very well just be me and my personality! But I guess we all bring that into the mix, don't we? I'm reminding myself to relax and enjoy the kids, but also to try to help them be the people they're meant to be. So, I guess it's good that they make me laugh so much.

It was the Spiderman undies, by the way. Oh, but I've said too much.

Summertime means...

2011-11-20T18:52:00.003+11:00

...Checking our outdoor furniture for spiders! It's a holiday--like Christmas! There are special songs we sing, and decorations. The kids get a day off school. It's quite festive, actually.

Okay, none of that is true. Well, except the part about checking for spiders. I mean, we don't have to do it everyday, but if we haven't been out there for a week or so, it's always best to check. Gotta look under the chairs, in those little crevices, cause you just never know!

Yesterday after Ava's party, some friends of ours stayed to hang out and eat pizza. It was way too hot to sit indoors, so we had to de-spider the undersides of our outdoor chairs. That may sound like we never use them--but we do. It's just that spiders seem to move fast around here.

The other day, Grace wanted to ride this old 3-wheeled scooter that we have on our back patio. It's been sitting outside for ages and is all rusted. And look what Jason found underneath it when he was cleaning it up for her.

A redback spider! Poisonous and such. But I mean, I guess you'd have to try pretty hard to get bitten right? It was on the underside of the scooter, nestled around that little bolt thingy. It's not like they show up in your breakfast cereal or anything. Unless you eat breakfast on the underside of your porch swing. Then you might have a problem.

I can be cavalier about spiders, you see. There have only been a handful of recorded deaths from redbacks in Australian history. For some reason, spiders don't freak me out too much. If it was a rodent...well, I think we all know how that would go. By now, we'd be living two states over with assumed names.

All-in-all, a success.

2011-11-19T21:13:00.011+11:00

Ava's birthday party was today! And yet, we live.

No really, it was a lot of fun and probably one of the least stressful times I've had putting together and hosting a kid's party. I don't usually stress cause I want things to be perfect, but because I don't always plan enough to keep all those kids busy. Things I think will take 20 minutes take 5 and then they're sooooo booorrreedddd. But my friends, I have the answer that you seek. Pool Party. That is all.

I bought water guns for everyone, we blew up some rafts and beach balls, we turned a sprinkler on too. The kids had a blast with very little effort and intervention on my part. Beyond, you know, feeding them and making sure no one drowned.

We did one craft--we decorated some flip flops that I'd bought in advance for each girl. Yesterday afternoon, as I pondered the best way to go about it, I posted a question on Facebook. You guys. It was like a crafting meetup right there on the Interwebs. Within an hour, I had something like 28 comments, with suggestions ranging from super gluing or hot gluing decorations, to tying balloons, to knotting fabric on them, to rivets. Rivets! Though I think he was joking. It was somewhere between a friendly debate and a virtual quilting bee happening up in there. I have some very resourceful and quick-responding FB friends. And they are all quite passionate about different types of adhesives, I will also say that.

In the end, though, I opted for no glue. I bought a bunch of colorful fabric, and the girls knotted them around the straps. I thought it was very cute! I think I thought it was cuter than they did...as most of them tied a few pieces on and then wanted to get back in the pool. I was probably over-invested in this project. Maybe sitting there tying fabric on rubber shoes was therapeutic in some way? I really wanted them to see how cute these flip flops could be. I'd call to each girl as they jumped back in the water, "Hey--you mind if I finish this for you?" (She couldn't hear me, too busy playing.) "No? Okay, great--I'll just add a few more, you'll love it!"
Here's Ava's pair:

Okay, I know they look a little nuts. Don't you think I know that? But I promise you, they're super cute in person. You guuuyyysss!! Really!!! I was gonna show you a photo with my foot in them, just to give some perspective, but then I decided you don't need to see my gargantuan foot shoved in a kid's shoe. Maybe I need a little more emotional distance from this project. But for reals, I think they're fun. Colorful, kinda messy, funny, and cute--just like an 8 year old girl.

So as you can see, we all enjoyed ourselves. The girls by swimming and playing, me by hijacking an 8 year old's craft project. We all have our areas.

Oh, but here's the cake!
A friend made it. Isn't it beautiful? Ava wanted blue and white, to go with the pool party theme, natch. My friend made all those chocolate shavings to look like a huge rose. And the chocolate was melt-in-your-mouth yum. And I remembered to bring it out this year! That alone is a big improvement on our last big party!

Now. Here is the part where, because I'm worried what you might think about me for having an elaborate cake made for my kid's party, like I'm all hoity-toity, instead of doing it myself...here is the part where I go, "I usually make the kids' cakes on my own. Remember Nate's monster truck cake last year? But this year, I decided to treat Ava to something special." Here is also the part where I worry that you'll think I didn't make anything for her myself, so I say, "I made and iced cupcakes for her to take to school on her actual birthday." There. That part's done. Being a socially anxious mom is so exhausting sometimes, y'all!

That ends my tale of birthday party happenings and shoes for today. I do indeed hope you are well. It's hot here...are you proud of me for not whining about it before now. But it is. Oh, it is.

Off to bed. Sunday's comin'!

Words to live by.

2011-11-18T22:47:00.006+11:00

I mentioned yesterday that I had some pictures of Grace being, well, being Grace at the restaurant last night. She is not one of those children who colors with the grubby crayons and color-in kids' menu that they bring out at the restaurant.
She turns somersaults instead, kicking the window in the process.

And then checks to see how we feel about that. As you can see, though, the restaurant was completely empty, except for us. We got there early, before they even opened for dinner. And just as the lights flicked on and the sign on the door flipped to "Open", we were in there, baby. Get in, get out, nobody gets hurt.

When it comes to eating out, our motto is Go Early or Go Home. Especially if the establishment in question is one in which you do not get your food on a plastic tray at the front counter. Early dinners mean less fellow patrons to disturb, less hungry, cranky kids, and less late bedtimes. Works for us!

We have somehow managed to get Ava and Nate to behave in public, so we do have hopes for Grace in the future.

See how Jason is holding her here, in what appears to be an affectionate embrace? Well, it is that, but it's also a desperate, clinging attempt to keep her from beating her chopsticks on the ceramic plant stand by the front door. That was musical.

Lest you think it was all Grace-wrangling and no eating, we did manage to have a lovely dinner. We've started a new birthday tradition, where each person shares a few things about the birthday boy/girl that they love and appreciate. It was really sweet to watch Nate share with Ava while trying not to be embarassed. And then, because we didn't get to do it for Nate's birthday last month, we all went around the table and encouraged him, too. You could see Ava and Nate just soaking up what we had to say to them. Little affirmation sponges. But aren't we all? "Oh, enough about me. Let's talk about you. What do you think about me?"

Recently, some friends did this for me on my birthday, and I have a feeling I probably looked just like the kids--still and calm and super-attentive, while trying to appear casual. Everybody likes to be encouraged, you know. For instance, I'd like to tell you that you did a really great job on that one thing you were stressing out about, and that one guy who said that mean thing about you to that other person? Well, he's full of it and everyone knows it, so don't worry. You're nicer anyway and you have better hair. See? Doesn't that feel good?

Then we noticed that Grace had rice all down her dress, stuck to her as if she were a Chinese food mosaic. And we knew it was time to go home. I don't even think it was 6pm yet.

Go Early or Go Home. Words to live by. I'm telling ya.

Looking Back: A post I didn't realize I was going to write

2011-11-17T20:05:00.008+11:00

Today is Ava's 8th birthday. She's been a little under the weather lately, but rallied nicely today to enjoy pancakes and presents for breakfast, cupcakes with her class, and then dinner out with us. She is such a dear heart. I mean don't get me wrong, she can drive one nuts just like any child can, but there is a real sweetness and sensitivity to this little girl. I hope and pray that as her parents, we can help bring out the best in her. She's a good sort.

I remember so vividly the first year of her life. She was a very fussy baby, who would nap in 20 minute intervals in the day for the first several months, and many nights wake every 45 minutes. I mean, 45 minutes on the nose. You could put a cake in the oven and time it based on her wakeups. As a result, I now have a graduate degree in Baby Sleep Science and Strategy. Okay, I don't really, but I should. I studied, read and obsessed over it long enough to earn some type of qualifications! She was just busy--wanted to be up at our eye level all the time, wanted to see what we were seeing, instead of being in the stroller. As a result, I learned how to do everything with her strapped into the Baby Bjorn. Even trying on jeans at The Gap--it can be done!

I realize now, looking back, that I really dealt with some Post Partum Depression issues during those first 5-6 months of her life. (Or Post Natal Depression, as it's known here.) I didn't have any professional/medical intervention, but that was only because I couldn't see that I needed it at the time.

I so loved that sweet, high-need little one. I knew that she was meant for us. And I loved watching Jason come into his own as a father. I wanted to care for her and nurture her. But I was so anxious all the time; I couldn't relax. I was always waiting for her to wake up and cry--well, because usually she was about to! When someone else was holding her, I was bracing myself for when she would start to fuss. My heart would race as I would try to let others help with her. That kind of anxiety for that amount of time takes a toll. It feels like clenching a muscle and never relaxing it. I remember wondering in the first weeks and months when things would feel normal again. When I would be able to read a book and actually concentrate on the storyline, or--and this must sound odd if you haven't been there--do something non-baby and not feel like I'm neglecting her in some way. When I could have a conversation with Jase that didn't involve sleep schedules. To be honest, I was a bit of a mess. I think I hid it well from most people, but it was a struggle for me; accepting and relishing this new season of my life.

I remember when she was about 5 months old, going to meet some friends for dinner one evening. Jason stayed home with Ava. And it struck me as I drove to the restaurant, This is how I used to feel. Normal. Not because I wasn't with her--I had been out on my own prior to this. But it was like a switch flipped in my brain. It's hard to describe, but it was like I realized that I had leveled out again, maybe? Like, oh yeah--I remember this sort of okay-ness. And the remembrance of it made me realize that I hadn't felt that way in awhile. It was like a huge sigh of relief. I know now that it didn't just "happen"--although I didn't get the professional help I probably needed, I had huge support from Jason, my family, and a few close friends.

Heh. You know? This isn't the post I sat down to write. I have some pictures of Grace being goofy at the restaurant tonight that I was also gonna show y'all. But I think I'm going to leave those for later. All this came out instead. Obviously, I don't know who all might run across this post, but maybe someone's in the same shape I was in this time 8 years ago. I hope you'll be encouraged to know that while right now you may feel completely in over your head, the baby grows and so do you. People used to tell me that, and I'd think, "Well your baby outgrew it, but what if mine doesn't?" But she did--of course she did. And now, I can hardly believe that same little baby who was pretty much Bjorn-ed to me 24/7 is now a lanky, sassy-mouthed, sweet 8 year old girl. That indeed happens.

I will say this, though. Whenever one thing gets easier, another thing gets harder! And gosh, I know I've barely scratched the surface of that one--or so my friends with older kids tell me! But in the meantime, here are my rules for surviving with a newborn: 1. Love them; hold them and talk to them even if that doesn't come naturally at first. (It didn't for me--I haven't really told anyone that before. Yikes! But I remember trying to "do" bonding.) 2. Feed them and feed yourself. 3. Get some sleep.

Take that from someone with an honorary degree (self-awarded) in Baby Sleep Science and Strategy. (MA, BSSS)

P.S. For real though, if you'd like to read how a friend of mine coped with and overcame Post Partum (Post Natal) Depression, Deb's story is here. I read it the other day, and man, I think it's gonna help a lot of families.

Surely it's not just me. (Don't call me Shirley.)

2011-11-16T22:16:00.003+11:00

Leaving the gym today, I was buckling Grace into her carseat when a gust of wind caught the car door and blew it into the car next to ours. "Shoot!" I said. Grace parroted right back, "Shoot, Mom! Shoot!" Ha. Thank goodness that was all I said. I remember once, years ago, when Ava was just starting to potty train, she wet her pants. "Damn," she said softly to herself. I don't know why Jason teaches her to say things like that.

Anyway, I looked at the door of the other car. There was no dent that I could see, but there was a smudge of our paint on their door. I couldn't rub it out with my thumb. I thought, I should really leave a note. But of course, I had no pen in my purse, in the car, in the glove box, under the seats. I called Jason, already investing much more energy in this little occurrence than it probably warranted. He said if there was no ding or dent, that it was probably okay to just drive off.

He forgot, though, that I have a guilt complex the size of Montana. So, I went back around to the other side of the car, unbuckled Grace, got her out, walked across the parking lot, up the stairs, up the lift, back into the gym. Where I borrowed a pen and scrap of paper and wrote a quick note to whomever owned the car. Then we reversed ourselves and went back outside, down, over and across. Back goes Grace into her carseat. (I hooked my foot around the bottom of the door so it wouldn't blow out again.) I slipped the note under the windshield wipers and off we drove.

Do you do this? I mean, I am nearly 100% certain that the owner of that car didn't care about the little paint mark. I wouldn't have, if it had been me. I don't think I would've noticed it--unlike Jason, I never notice little dings in our car doors and things. But, I knew that it would bother me, and I'd spend the rest of the day worrying about it. What if I park next to that car again someday and the owner remembers my car? (It had come after I'd parked there, you see.) What if it's someone I actually know? (Lots of people in our area go there.) What if this makes me one of those people that do irresponsible things? (I mean, besides the irresponsible things I already do.)

A month or so after Jason and I got married, we went out grocery shopping. We were still in that cutesy time where we went to the supermarket together. Awwww. Anyway, after we unloaded our cart, I walked it back across the parking lot to the "cart corral" or whatever. When I got back, Jason said, "I love that you're the kind of person who will go out of her way to do something like that, when no one would be the wiser if you didn't bother." Awwww. Young love. But you know what? Dang it if that one statement didn't make me take the dang cart to the dang corral everytime for years to come. Through rain, through sleet, through dark of night. (Okay, maybe not sleet. But you get the idea.) There were times that I'd be this close to just leaving the cart in the empty space next to me, and then I'd remember what he said. And I'd actually sigh, shake my head in annoyance, and stomp all the way over to the little holding bay. The truth is, I really wasn't "that kind of person". But Jason thinking I was made me that way? Maybe? I don't know, it's complicated, okay? But I have to admit, it's pretty much worn off. I'll sometimes wheel it off to the side, especially if the kids are with me. Don't tell him, spouses need their illusions too.

I'm so glad you guys are here for me in soul-searching times like these. I have to tell you one more thing. I think it just highlights how neurotic I can be sometimes. So, I wrote the note and all that. Grace and I finally pulled out of the parking lot to head home. And then I think, What if this person takes advantage of me "being nice"? What if they, like, try to blame all kinds of car damage on me? They could be all, "Hey--she even left a note!"

So then--I kid you not--I turned around, went back, and pulled back into my just-vacated spot. Where I proceeded to get back out and take a photo of the door and its miniscule paint mark. In case I needed evidence in this hypothetical fraud case my brain had concocted in the last 25 seconds.

And this is why Jason so often, when talking with me, raises his hands in a kind of surrender position. "Okay, babe," he'll say, "You just do what you need to do to feel better." And so I do. And usually, what I'm so worked up about isn't worth a hill of beans.

Shoot.

Safari cannot open this page because it is not connected to the Internet

2011-11-15T20:10:00.002+11:00

Inexplicably, our Internet is down today. And we done paid the bill and everything! This happens from time to time. And when we call our service provider, they say helpful things like, "Hmmm, we haven't had any reported outages in your area." And we are like, "THIS IS WHAT I AM DOING. I AM REPORTING AN OUTAGE." And they're like, Oh. And then we open our mouths in a silent scream, like that soul in the Edvard Munsch painting. (Which I can't google to see if I spelled it right, obvs.)

So tonight, friends I'm blogging to you from my iPhone; on the tiniest, cutest little 3G bar you've ever seen. Just one lil' bar. It's adorable, really. So scrappy and ready to take on the world. Yet so very feeble.

I feel like this is what it must've been like for Laura Ingalls Wilder, when she blogged in the big woods of Wisconsin. Between Pa slaughtering the pig and making a little balloon out of its bladder (that happened) and Ma hanging the onions in the attic. You know? It's magical, in a way.

I have a bit of a fuzzy head today, if you couldn't tell that already. Its been a horrific allergy season here in Sydney, and I also awoke with a cold this morning. Jason was sick with it last week when he returned from the States. In the process of us exchanging demure, chaste kisses at the airport, I think I caught it from him. But what is one to do?

I took drugs and lots of vitamin C, and have felt like my head is floating 15 feet about the ground all day. (That's about 5 meters, Aussie friends.) And it doesn't help that Grace's newest thing is requesting something: a sandwich, to go to the park, to talk on the phone, and then repeating it endlessly until it's given to her.

Doesn't matter how we answer or reason with her. The same tone, the same inflection over and over AND OVER again. I am not kidding you, I ACTUALLY watched my hair grow half an inch while she was asking for juice infinity times today. I think she's messing with my head. That, combined with the decongestant, kinda made for a loopy day.

So now here I am, drifting from my one 3G bar, to E, and sometimes O. What is O?? Can anyone even hear me? Is this thing on? I'm gonna put this message into the bottle and hurl it into the void. I hope it finds you somewhere warm, safe, and with wifi as far as the eye can see. Good night. And good luck.

Sent from my iPhone

The Spinning Vomit Wheel of Doom

2011-11-14T21:54:00.007+11:00

Yesterday, we took the kids to a new park that we hadn't been to before. That's one of many things to love about Sydney: there are parks and outdoor recreation everywhere. I love it. Jason and I often wondered, How did we live in Dallas all those years? Where one chooses from a succession of mall play areas to visit? We loved our time in Dallas, and miss our friends there, but we realize now what we were missing. (Sorry, Dallas peeps. Y'all are still my boo.) However, for shopping and restaurants, Dallas is hard to beat. That we miss!

But anyway, this park is part of the Sydney Olympic Park, and it's right on the Parramatta River. It's called Newington Armory. I don't know how we'd never been there before--the place is HUGE. There are tunnels through hillsides, and slides, and a zipline. There are swings, and bike paths, and climbing walls. At one point I asked Ava if she was having fun. She stopped and said, "Mom, I'm having the time of my life."

Wow.
Grace loved the slides and the zip line, but Ava and Nate spent most of their time on this spinning disc thingy.
I'm pretty sure that's its official name. Y'know, it's a concave disc set at an angle that spins and spins and spins until you want to die. Okay, perhaps I'm projecting a bit. I can't handle things that spin. Even the teacups at Disneyland. But they loved it!
Even when some boy fell on Ava's nose, she still wanted to get back on. When I showed the photos to my mom, she aptly named it the Throw Up Express. But thankfully, we were spew-free for the duration of our time there.

So, in conclusion:

Opportunities to run and scream: Check
No vomit: Check
Chance to feel brave and dangerous: Check
Minor injuries: Check
--(This injury and the recounting and dramatization of it provide fodder for post-game analysis on the drive home, which is why it's deemed a positive thing, you see.)
Grace going down the slides till the world burned to a crisp and time ended: Check

This adds up to a gold star outing in our book! It was a great day, and anytime we need very tired kids at bedtime, we will definitely return.

The Internet is full of options.

2011-11-13T21:19:00.006+11:00

Ava turns 8 (!) this week. She wanted to have a pool party this year, so I will spend the whole week praying for good weather on Saturday. Cause if it's raining, I'll have 14 little girls running around my house. Do you remember the last time that happened? Unless you've been reading this blog since the beginning, you might not. (Hi, Mom!)

When Ava turned 6, she wanted a tea party, so I invited all the little girls in her kindergarten class and a few others over. I had it all planned. But then, it was such a hot day. Hot, like hotter than the pit of hell hot. Way too hot to have all these little girls drinking tea in my living room--it was seriously 90F in my house. (I analyze it as if it were a military op here.) So we moved everything into the downstairs office, which was slightly cooler. The girls had fun, but it was so chaotic and frenzied--all of them crammed down there--that I forgot to bring out Ava's birthday cake. Did you catch that? It was a birthday and we forgot the cake. If you've ever wondered what kind of mother would do that, well you've found her. But I mean well, really I do.

For the pool party this year, I had this idea that as a craft, all the girls could decorate a pair of flip flops (thongs to my Aussie readers, jandals to my Kiwi readers, --what does everyone else call them?) I'll just say flip flops, cause it just feels wrong to talk about 2nd graders decorating thongs. I'm sure you understand. I thought this was a cute idea, so I've been on the hunt for super cheap, really basic rubber flip flops. But in my usual fashion, I have waited until the week before. I am that kind of mother, too. Ava and I went to a big market today--the kind of place where vendors set up and sell everything from mangoes to knee socks to fake Louis Vuitton bags. It was fun to walk around, but in all that, we didn't find what we needed. Kmart had them, but I wanted to find them even cheaper.

When we got home, I looked around online for places I could maybe order them wholesale. I found a few leads. But what I wanted to show you was a couple of entries I found on this one website. It's basically a listing of all kinds of different manufacturers in China that you can order direct from. I clicked on the photos I'm about to show you cause initially they looked promising, but--well now I'm not so sure.

This one is just one of those obvious mis-translations into English. But it made me laugh, cause what do you think they were going for?

Oh, those lovers of men and women who drag beach slippers. Such procrastinators! You just can't guess what they'll do next. Especially when they're contracted.

Look, only $1.58 a pair!! Now we're talking. They're plain too, so better to decorate. But, oh--hmmm, apparently it will cost me almost $800,000 to ship them here. Maybe there are, like, trained talking dolphins guided by mermaids that are bringing them over? Maybe, instead of those styrofoam peanut things, they're packed in yellow diamonds? Cause I can't work out why it would be that much. Have you ever? I can't even. Maybe it's a typo? Jason said maybe they're trying to scam someone, but is anyone that stupid?

My heart(and my search) will go on. I do this every year--tell myself I'm gonna keep it simple, and then I keep thinking of one more thing that would be fun, or 2-3 more people to invite. I wish I was one of those people that can just throw an amazing party together with minimal effort--like, oh I just had all this stuff laying around the house! I just opened my craft closet and grabbed a few things! And then I had time to get my nails done to match the napkins! But, I'm not. I love hosting people, but I always end up spending much more time preparing than I think I will. I enjoy it, though! But we've got several other things on this week, and I'm speaking at a women's meeting on Friday night, so I'll be getting ready for that, too. Should be interesting! Remember Nate's astute observations on polygamy? This is one of those weeks that a sister wife might come in handy.

I used to cry. But now I hold my head up high.

2011-11-12T21:10:00.004+11:00

This is one of those days where you are ready for bed by 9pm. Nice but busy!

Today I went to a Fundraising Breakfast for breast cancer research. It's organized and hosted by a neighbor of ours who has survived breast cancer--twice! Their kids go to school with our kids, and I've really enjoyed getting to know her a little over the years. She is someone who, to me, seems like a real grownup. Do you know what I mean? Someone who gets things done and makes things happen. I don't always feel like a grownup in that way. But enough about my issues.

They did a great job with the breakfast--it was really fun. Full of auction items, and gift bags, raffle prizes, fashion shows, and ladies all dressed in pink. Did you know 1 in 11 women will be diagnosed with breast cancer by the time they're 70? I've heard that before, but it just stuns me anew every time I hear it. Obviously, with what Becky has been through, the issue hits a little closer to home now.

Of course there were lighter topics as well. The ladies I was sitting with taught me a lot about laser hair removal! So that was something. Also we shared our rodent woes. It made me feel better that I am not alone in my struggles with *creatures*. My neighbor's husband had to dye his hair pink--he'd pledged to do it if a certain fundraising goal was met. Actually, it suited him quite well. Magenta can work on a guy. I'm telling you--I have seen it! I found a lady to make Ava's birthday cake, I donated some more money for breast cancer research, and I ate some chocolate. A successful morning!

But. I was secretly hoping to win one of the big raffle prizes. There were some good ones! But alas, my name wasn't called. Well, that's not totally true. I did win a bottle of wine, which was nice, though I'm not a big wine person. Whine? Yes. Are you the person who always wins raffles? I think some people just seem to win them more often, though I know that can't be true mathematically. As that one Barbie said, "Math is hard!" Don't confuse me with the facts! I think some folks are just prone to winning those types of things. Are you?

After this, Ava and Nate both had birthday parties to attend. At the same time and taking place in opposite ends of town. Of course. Then, tonight we went to a party. The kids played and bothered the dog, they rolled around in the grass, they all cried at one point or another. Then we played karaoke and I sang "I Will Survive" . I'm sure this doesn't surprise you. And you know what? It felt pretty dang good.

This, my Internet companions, is what I have for you today. A tale of pink hair and statistics, of bush rats and raffle prizes. Of grass-covered kids and disco hits. Sometimes you write the blog, sometimes the blog writes you.

(I don't really know what that means. It sounded like a good ending, though. In theory.)

No real cohesion

2011-11-11T22:59:00.002+11:00

You guys as I write this, it's approaching 11pm on 11/11/11. There are a few neighbours around us having parties tonight...I'm not sure if that is just because it's Friday night or because of the date. But I did hear a few high schoolers at the gym last night talking about going to an 11/11/11 party. So is this a thing? I mean, I get why it's cool--this date won't happen like this for another hundred years and all; just like 10/10/10 and 09/09/09 and--shall I keep going? But is there some kind of numerological significance to the date?

Ah--it's just on 11 right now and I hear cheering. Kind of like New Year's. So my theory is correct! It IS an 11/11/11 party. I feel validated. THis is like live blogging, isn't it? Are you excited?

Tonight Jason and I watched Crazy Stupid Love on iTunes. Have you seen it? We really enjoyed it. Sweet and funny. But I will watch anything with Steve Carell in it. After the movie, we were scrolling through the other movies for rent. I told Jason that while he was gone, I spent a long time one night just scrolling through iTunes, watching previews. Lots of different previews. He laughed at me. "You just watched previews?" he said. I think he thinks there's something sad and forlorn about that. That I'd sit there, alone, watching tons of movie trailers and never picking a movie to watch. Well, I happened to really enjoy myself. Is that sad?

Then, I said I was kind of hungry and Jason said he could go out and find us some really good hot dogs somewhere. Then we both remembered that you can't really get good hot dogs in Australia. At least, not what we think of as good. Now that was sad. Great burgers are hard to find too. This one time, I was really craving a cheeseburger. And we drove 45 minutes in late afternoon traffic with the kids to this one place we thought would have really good ones. It was stressful getting there. But it looked like an old fashioned 50s diner, so they're gonna have good burgers, right? Guess what they had. Meat pies. Most Aussie things ever. Nothing wrong with a meat pie, but when you want a burger, a steak and kidney pie or whatever ain't cutting it.

We talked about that for awhile tonight, and hot dogs too. Is that weird and/or sad? I thought maybe the conversation about food and cravings was symbolic or something. I mean, we had just watched a romantic movie together and we were snuggling on the couch. But no, I think we were actually talking about hot dogs. That's okay, isn't it? People do that, right?

Then I said, well I can't have a hot dog anyway right now, cause I only have a few calories left for the day. That chicken kebab at dinner almost did me in. (I'm counting calories right now, you see. But don't worry, it's healthy.) And then he said, oh yeah. Then I sighed, and that really was sad.

I'll close with some other things I do that are probably sad:
--Hide in the pantry to eat sometimes so the kids won't ask for some.
--When I workout, I imagine myself performing live a lot of the songs I listen to on my iPod. I'm being serious. I'm embarrassed to admit this. But I picture myself on the stage singing for an audience. Yeah. That happens. Sometimes I sing outloud a little, accidentally.
--I pretend to be on my phone when I walk by solicitors at the mall. Because, no, I really don't want to buy salt scrub from the Dead Sea, but I have a hard time telling them that. I have had some very involved imaginary conversations.

I could go on, but I think I'll stop there. Before you lose all respect for me. See, these are the things revealed when one is blogging everyday. I feel cleansed. You know, if you wanted--you could share the sad things YOU do. But only if you want.

Are you doing anything fun for 11/11/11? Gifts? Parties? Decorations?

I guess I like to live on the edge

2011-11-10T21:00:00.005+11:00

If you've been reading along for awhile, you know that I sometimes take covert pictures of people making, well, interesting fashion choices. Here's the guy with the most amazing feathered mullet I'd ever laid eyes on. And here is a young man who treated me (and the rest of the food court) to a generous view of his boxer briefs. Becky does it too. So maybe it's genetic? All I know is that when I see something that strikes me as really funny, ridiculous, or just weird, I have this urge to capture it so I can show people. I guess I'm not the only one who does it...isn't that why YouTube was invented? Oh, and People of Walmart--what a treasure trove that site is!

Anyway, when the kids and I got to the airport yesterday, we had some time to wait around. As we stood in the Arrivals Hall, I noticed the gentleman next to me was wearing a very spiffy get-up.

Ah, yes. The tuxedo T-shirt really is a versatile article of clothing. It says, "I recognize the solemnity of this occassion, but I still like to have a good time." It says, "I'll acknowledge social conventions but I won't be manipulated by them." It says, "I can begin the evening with Moet, but I'll end it with Pabst Blue Ribbon."

This man wasn't the "type" in my mind though, to be wearing one. I'd always thought of the tux T-shirt being more suited (if they're suited to anyone) to young dudes who are trying to be ironic. But this guy was not ironically wearing this shirt. No sir. It was crisp, his black trousers were pressed, his shoes polished--he was dressed, y'all.

I was determined to get the shot, but I had to be careful cause he was like 6 feet away. I totally have respect for those wildlife photographers now, you guys. Cause this stuff ain't easy. I pretended to texting on my iPhone for AGES until he turned the right way and I could take a picture. Then Ava saw it and said, "Hey, why did you take that?" "Oh," I said, "I must've accidentally pressed the button." I am trying to keep this from spreading to the next generation, you know.

Under one Roof and also No She Didn't.

2011-11-09T20:22:00.009+11:00

Jason and Grace arrived home this morning--finally! Jason scored like, infinity points by making the trek across the Pacific with her on his own, and then not even complaining about it once he got here. I mean, I've done the solo trip with kids, but I'm always sure to get credit for it after. Because of me being immature and all that. So, for those of you keeping score at home, he wins forever.

Look at this, though. As a parent, this is absolute gold. Gold, I tell you!

Grace was positively giddy to see her brother and sister again. And they were thrilled to have her back, too. As I watched them hug each other, I couldn't help but think of Becky's post from yesterday about siblings: how they will be each other's longest relationships, that they'll know each other in ways no one else will. That there's such a potential for rich friendship there. Lord, help us not to screw this up.
Well. Before I get all verklempt on you, I have to tell you something that happened on the plane. But first I'd like to preface it by saying these things: What the? People are--. I can't even--. Okay.

We've travelled a lot our children. Like, a lot. At least 5 overseas trips and countless domestic flights around the US. The technical term for people like us is, I think, Gluttons for Punishment, or maybe Total Idiots. But that aside, Jason and I both are extremely conscientious about how our kids behave on planes. To the best of our abilities, we try to keep them quiet, contented, and entertained--all while striving to create the least amount of disturbance possible. I should have some kind of graduate degree in Carry-on Bag Packing For Toddlers. I can say that without bragging because I've been on enough flights with others who aren't as careful with their kids to know that it's just the truth, straight up. Of course, that doesn't mean our kids are perfect on long flights. Far from! But we try. And what else can you do, amirite?

Anyway, Jason and Grace had been on the flight for a couple of hours. It was well past midnight LA time, but she hadn't gone to sleep yet. He said that she was happy, though. They were chatting back and forth, and she was watching a movie. He said she made one loud sound--a happy exclamation at some point--but that was it. He was just trying to keep her calm and occupied until she would finally fall asleep.

So the girl in front of them turns around to Jase. He said she was younger, maybe in her early 20s. She looks at him and says, "Um, we're gonna try to sleep now. So if you could please keep the noise down."

Jason is telling me the story this morning and I am all, "No. She. Did. Not." And he's like, "Oh, she did!" "What did you say?", I said, "Did you punch her? Did you punch her in the throat?" (Probably, people in my line of work aren't supposed to think or say things like that. But I is what I is.)

He said to her, "Excuse me?" He said he kind of laughed, it caught him so off guard. Like, "Oh, why didn't I just think of this before? I can just have my 2 year old be quiet! Gosh, thanks for the tip, clueless twit!" Then he said to her, "Look. She's 2 years old. If all she does is make that little noise and talk, we will be very, very lucky. Turn around and mind your own business." (Okay he didn't say that last part. But I'm pretty sure the meaning was conveyed.)

So again I say: What the? People are! I can't even! I have kind of a temper about things like this, so it's probably a good thing it wasn't me on that plane. But unfortunately I never think of the right thing to say at the right time, so I would've spent the rest of the flight stewing about it!

But no matter! They're home now and all is well. But would you think less of me if I told you that I kind of CANNOT WAIT till that chick is making her first trans-oceanic flight with a toddler? Pop some popcorn!

--P.S. I'm not sure why Blogger is putting all these giant spaces between my paragraphs. Sorry for all the gratuitous scrolling required.

Something to be said for knowing your weaknesses.

2011-11-08T21:45:00.006+11:00

My friend Robyn just ran and completed the New York City Marathon this weekend. Robyn is a pediatric nurse and a mother of two young girls. And she found time to train, qualify and then run the NYC Marathon. Not to be outdone, I succeeded in eating too much candy corn this weekend and watching some really lousy old movies. (Don't watch Sliding Doors. Not worth it.) So, there's a lot there to feel good about.

I really like the idea of being one of those people, you know? Not neccesarily a marathoner, but someone who can just push through the pain and be determined to succeed no matter what. But I just don't think I am. I will push myself to a point. And then I'll be all, Hey, you've done pretty well. There's no need to be excessive! Let's go read a book.

This is probably why I ended up with Jason. If you haven't read my post about our differing views on sports, check it out. He played pretty much every sport ever invented, and was good at everything. Here the phrase "opposites attract" comes to mind, as I can manage to fail pretty spectacularly at any physical endeavor.

When we do premarital counseling with engaged couples, we often talk about recognizing your partner's different philosophies surrounding challenges, change, or hard times. The story we always tell is about an Ultimate Frisbee game Jason and I played once. We were playing against another couple in a local park. I wasn't too keen on playing, but I was trying to be all, "Yeah, I'm totally sporty. I got this." But after about 10 minutes of playing and constant running, my side started to hurt. Well, that wasn't fun. So I stopped running. "I think I'm done now. I don't wanna play anymore," I said, panting.

Jason looked at me and bless him, his jaw literally dropped. "What? You're just stopping?" "Yeah," I said, "I'm tired. Let's do something else." And it was like he could not compute the idea that someone would do that. It was like in A League of Their Own, when Tom Hanks moans in disgust, "There's no crying in baseball!!"

"But-but we're in the middle of the game! You can't just stop cause you're tired! Everybody gets tired, you just have to keep going." And as surprised as he was at my quitting, I was surprised that it bothered him so much. It simply hadn't occurred to me that that was a strange thing to do--quitting in the middle of the game. For me it was just like, this is supposed to be just for fun, this isn't fun anymore, I'm out. "But I don't have to keep going," I said, "I don't wanna run anymore."

Hee hee. Yeah, so that was a little moment for us. One of those times when you expect someone to be on the same page as you are, and they are totally not. That moment has been repeated in many ways throughout our relationship. I am trying to develop more perseverance and determination--not just in physical stuff, but elsewhere too. But really? I'm not sure I'll ever be much like Jason--or Robyn. I mean, I do have backbone--but I think it is mostly comprised of candy corn. Or cooked pasta. But if you wanna hang out and read gossip magazines together? I'm your girl.

Robyn, good onya girl! You're my hero. And now I know whom to call next time Jase wants to play Ultimate Frisbee.

Y'all Wanna See a Cool Lizard?

2011-11-07T20:18:00.005+11:00

Duh, of COURSE you do! I've noticed this little guy hanging out near our driveway for the past few days, and today the kids and I managed to get a few pictures. I'm sure, that to people who've been here all their lives this is no big deal. But I'm always amazed that there are these big ol' lizards and exotic birds just hanging out near my house.
He's (She's?) pretty big...about 2 feet (60cm) long, I'd say. My extensive research tells me that this is a water dragon. But I'm not positive...maybe someone in the know can help me out?

I always have a hard time identifying animals by their photos. I would be a terrible eyewitness to a crime. Like, "Well, he sure looks like the guy who robbed the bank, but the guy I saw was three-dimensional, and existed in space and time. This guy in the mug shot is flatter, somehow."

I know that is so random, but I think about these things occasionally. And when Amy is blogging everyday, you get what you get sometimes.

Anway, despite Nate's promise to be very quiet and only whisper, and despite that whisper being louder than his normal talking voice, we managed to get pretty close to take the pictures. Kinda cool.

But remind me not to leave the front door open. By the way, I discovered a giant hole in one of the window screens today. The same window that I've been leaving open all day. I can't help but think that something has chewed a hole in it. Could that be true?? No really, could it? I'm a little freaked out.

A Cautionary Tale, Annoyingly Told in the 3rd Person

2011-11-06T19:08:00.006+11:00

Once upon a time, a woman went with her family to Disneyland. It was her son's 6th birthday, and the woman and her family were due to return to Australia very soon. They decided to have a big birthday bonanza at The Happiest Place on Earth. And there was much rejoicing.

The family set out. They travelled north on the 5 freeway, they exited on Disney Way, they followed a convoluted route to the remote parking. They unpacked the stroller, they slathered sunscreen on themselves, they took a shuttle bus to the park.

For the first several hours, they had a great time. There was Star Tours, where the 6 year old got to see Darth Vader and C3P0. There was the Snow White Adventures ride. There was the woman's favorite ride at Disneyland, the It's a Small World ride. But as the sun crept higher in the sky, the woman begin to feel uncomfortable. She'd worn jeans that day, you see. A reasonable choice for an October day. Or so she thought.

Because you see, on that day the woman didn't know that southern California would be experiencing an unseasonal heat wave. The day would turn out to be sweltering. And by 12:30, the temperature had crept to about 100F (38C).

And gradually, the woman begin to wilt. Wilt like the delicate, fragile flower that she was. Nothing seemed to help. Ice cold soft drinks, mouse-eared frozen ice cream bars, even the blessed air conditioning of the It's a Small World ride. As she trailed behind her family in the Happiest Place on Earth, the woman couldn't help but imagine peeling off the skinny jeans she'd so foolishly worn and jumping into the pool at the bottom of Splash Mountain.

It should be noted that she is rather sensitive to extreme temperatures. (Being a delicate flower and all.) As she grew hotter, and those jeans began to feel adhered to her legs, she became more and more irritable. Finally, her husband said to her: "You don't look so good. Why don't you go find somewhere to sit down and you can catch up with us later."

She wandered off in search of relief. Barring indecent exposure, what could she do? Up and down Main Street, USA she walked, looking in every gift shop for something she could wear. But alas, it was as if the whole of Disneyland mocked her! There was flannel everywhere! Pluto boxer shorts, Minnie Mouse pajama pants, and--worst of all--Donald Duck sweatpants.

Finally in Frontierland, she found the only thing that would remotely work. But she shrunk back in fear. It was a khaki skort. Oh, the skort. It's not a skirt, it's not shorts...what is it?? Perhaps appropriate for a day on the tennis court or golf course, a skort was not what she'd been hoping for. Plus, being aware of her body type like any savvy girl, she knew that skorts were not quite her Best Look.

But what's a jean-wearing, overheated, Target-less girl to do? With nowhere else to turn and the mercury rising, she decided to fork over the 40 bucks for a khaki skort that she didn't even like. Here's what some say it looked like. (Well, this is what it actually looks like.)

As you can see, her hips are 8 feet wide when wearing it. And there are also embroidered mouse ears. So it has that going for it.

But here is the part that is most awesome. Her self respect in tatters, her cheeks flushed with heat, her jeans tightening by the minute, the woman made her way to the register with the skort clutched in her fevered hand. As the innocent Frontier cash register lady gave her the total, the woman reached into the back pocket of her jeans to get some cash...

...And realized that the money was all damp and sweaty. Is there a delicate way to reference butt sweat? Probably not, so there you go. Now this is happening. As the cashier bagged the skort up, the woman casually waved the money in the air, trying to subtly air it out a bit. Like, la-dee-da, I'm just fanning myself with two $20 bills, just like normal people do all the time, everyday. It didn't help much. The bills were decidedly damp. Oh, the humiliation!

In the end, the woman just handed over the cash and bolted, her head down. She headed straight to the nearest restroom, changed into the skort and felt blessed, cool air on her legs. Which? Were a little hairy. Cause she'd planned to wear jeans that day, you see.

The End.

What's that line from The Matrix about the spoon bending? Yeah, that.

2011-11-05T20:28:00.003+11:00

You know you live in the southern hemisphere when the start of November means...

... hydrangeas! Aren't they purty? Today I was doing some stuff around the house and thought to myself, "It's November 5th! My hydrangeas are probably blooming!" And they are. And then I realized how much I've really assimilated to living down under; that I automatically think of November as a spring month now. And mention January or February, and I immediately think of how sweltering it will be. (Y'all know how I get.)

We've been here over 6 years now, and it probably took me 4 years to not have to be reminding myself, "No, it won't be winter then," or "You can roast a turkey for Thanksgiving, but do you wanna have your oven on all day in such warm weather?"

I still remember our first Christmas here; being at the Opera House on Christmas Eve day and it was 94 degrees F (34C) outside. It just didn't feel right to me. I'm embarassed to admit this, but I actually remember thinking, "These people know it's not supposed to be summer, right?"

Oh, Amy. You and your northern hemispheric prejudices. Free your mind! Like, have you ever seen this?

Who said "north" had to be on the top? Hmmm? I remember a vigorous discussion my parents had about this when they first came to visit me. I'd never thought about it either. But it's all quite subjective, isn't it.

So, maybe I'm not down under. Maybe you are. (If you live in the northern hemisphere. You know what I mean. Dang it, I've totally ruined my dramatic ending.)

Passing the Time

2011-11-04T20:38:00.003+11:00

It was a beautiful afternoon today; cool and sunny outside. So, once the kids started to glaze over from too much TV after school, I hustled us out of the house for a walk.

Sometimes to make things more interesting, I'll give them my phone to take pictures with as we walk. Now that Nate has his beloved Nintendo DS, he uses that for a camera. (Remember when he deferred helping the less fortunate cause he wanted to save up for a DS? Well, his grandparents gave him one for his birthday, so the philanthropy can flow freely now. Phew.)

Anyway, I was walking in front of the kids along the sidewalk, and I heard Nate snickering behind me. I instantly knew what he was doing, cause he's done it before.

Last summer, we went on a little holiday down the coast to Wollongong. One afternoon we drove to this beautiful stretch of road on a cliff overlooking the ocean. There's a big pedestrian walkway there, so we parked and walked along the cliffside. We'd given Nate the camera; he said he wanted to take photos. Well, when we got back into the car, he dissolved in hysterical laughter, brandishing the camera at me. "What is it?" I asked.

Turns out, pretty much the only photos he'd taken as we'd walked along were of my backside. Yup, there were like two dozen pictures of my butt, from Nate's-eye level. He'd taken them in quick succession, so that if one was so inclined, one might make a flip book of them. One was not inclined. In Nate's mind, the fact that he'd done this undetected was the absolute funniest thing that had ever happened in all the world. He laughed so hard and so long, that we were all laughing; even Grace, who had no clue what was up.

So today when I heard that little devious laugh, I knew. "You're taking pictures of my bottom, aren't you?" And, well, being a girl, I had to look at them--today and last summer when it happened the first time. I mean, aren't we always wondering if our butt looks okay? Lots of stores have those "butt-cams", where they'll show you, definitively and once and for all, if your rear end does look big in those jeans.

But those cameras don't laugh at you in the process. So, see? Bonus for me!

Capulets and Montagues, Taylor Swift, and Kardashians.

2011-11-03T21:59:00.007+11:00

Well, I'm going to resist the urge to post about Kim and Khloe Kardashian koming to Sydney to premiere their kollection. On the heels of Kim's divorce! What will she say! How will she act! It's been all over the news here. And I will confess that it interests me, in both that gossipy, OMG kind of way as well as how we are so hungry for inner details of peoples' lives that they'd would orchestrate an entire marriage to feed the beast. But the more I talk about it, the stupider I become. Like, I can actually feel brain cells leaping to their deaths. I'll leave it to people with PhDs in celebrity gossip, like this lady (it's a fascinating site). So, let's move on, shall we?

I was telling Jason the other day, I feel like Ava has really leapt ahead in her "growing up" lately. She wants to be included in adult conversations more, she wants to borrow my iPod all the time to listen to my music, she says things that cause me to go, "Wow. That's a person right there, straight up."
With my dad in North Carolina

This probably sounds silly and like it should be obvious, but I often have to stop and remind myself that my children are maturing, that their thoughts are expanding and the things they think about are changing. (I've mentioned this before.) It's both exhilarating to see and a little overwhelming for me too. Although caring for a baby or toddler is physically demanding and an emotional strain at times, I'm finding that parenting an older kid is harder on a different level. It's like I told someone recently. Whenever one thing gets easier, something else gets harder.

A funny example happened the other night at dinner. The kids and I had gone to our local Italian place, and Ava was talking about how much she loved Taylor Swift's song, Love Story. You know, where the characters are named Romeo and Juliet? (Ava loves to belt out the line, "He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring!") I mentioned, kind of talking to myself, how the original Romeo and Juliet didn't have such a happy ending.

"What do you mean?" she asked. I told her that those names belonged to the characters in a very famous play, and that over the centuries, they've come to symbolize romance but that it really wasn't a happy story at all. Slippery slope! Before I knew it, I'm telling her all about forbidden love and parental control and double suicides (having to explain what "suicide" is in the process--yikes). Can't we just eat pizza and talk about spelling homework or something?

Tonight, we were driving up to the church for a meeting. "Mom," she says from the backseat, "What was the worst time in your life?"

Uhh. Ummm. You are 7. "My life's been pretty sweet, babe," I said, wondering how much of your world do you reveal to your 2nd grader, you know? She persisted: "Yeah, but if you had to name one really bad time, what would you say? Alright, I thought. At some stage, you have to let your kids know who you are, right? Not just as their mom, their caretaker, but as a person with a history and experiences that happened before they were born.

So I picked an experience I thought she could maybe wrap her brain around. I told her about a difficult bout of depression that I dealt with as a 15 year old. How one of my aunts said some cruel, terrible things about my parents and caused a major rift in my extended family. How it caused me to be really angry and upset. How I had jaw surgery around that same time and had to deal with a slow recovery time. She listened, asking a few questions about details, but quiet mostly. I didn't dwell on any of it, just gave her a really brief synopsis.

Silence in the car. "What about you, Ava?" I ventured. "What's been the worst time of your life?" What would she say? What insight would it give me into her burgeoning little world? "Well," she said, "I'd have to say that it's riding in the backseat with Nate when he's being so annoying." Okay, maybe not so much insight into her burgeoning little world.

"Babe," I said, "If that is the most difficult thing you have to deal with in life, you are going to be really blessed."

Bam.

2011-11-02T20:11:00.005+11:00

Today I went to Sh'Bam class. Do you know Sh'Bam? It's basically dance aerobics, sort of like its much more popular cousin, Zumba.

See? I wore my orange shirt and pink belt today. Just like usual.

I'm pretty sure Sh'Bam was created to capitalize on the huge success of Zumba. It's like those knockoff perfumes..."If you like Chanel no 5, you'll love Regina 11." Or something like that.

But it's a fun class. I have no real sense of rhythm, and my dancing is about what you'd expect from someone of my age, demographic, and ethnic heritage. Okay, perhaps slightly worse than that. But I figure, as long as I'm moving, and my heart rate is up, and I'm not tearing any ligaments or wetting myself, it's all good.

The instructor kept up a steady stream of chatter through her little headset microphone. Impressive in itself. In between telling us what moves were coming up, she sang the song lyrics, asked us if we bet on the Melbourne Cup, and pontificated on why, if he liked it then he didn't put a ring on it. You get the idea.

Then, in the midst of this side step move where we were supposed to be moving our hips in a circular motion, she took it to a whole 'nother level. She was trying to get us to do the move properly, and she said, "Imagine that you have a wooden spoon stuck up your bottom and that you are trying to stir a pot with it."

Internet, I promise you that she said those things. Those words were processed by my brain and I'll never be the same again. As vivid an image as that may be, I didn't really want to have to imagine it. Although, I have to admit, it was rather illustrative of what she wanted us to do.

I'm just not sure I'm ready to commit to the move at that level. Okay, fine! You've forced me to be honest. Not thinking about the spoon after someone tells you to think about the spoon is an impossible task! I defy you to say otherwise!! And okay, it did help. But still!! Still.

And now I've shared this with you. Yeah, sorry about that.

A plan so crazy, it just might work

2011-11-01T18:51:00.005+11:00

Y'all probably don't know this, but November is National Blog Posting Month, also known as NaBloPoMo. Participants commit to blog every day in November. Why? For fun, that's why!! Also, because I make loads of money off of this blog, and mama needs a new pair of shoes. LOADS of money. Did you know that? It's true.

(It's not really true.)

Nah, for real though, I feel the need to challenge myself to write everyday for awhile. Also, it feels like chatting with friends and I like talking with you guys. My sister and I decided that we would do this together, but I get the jump on her 'cause of the International Date Line and stuff. Take that, Atlanta!

So come see me! I'm sure I'll need the encouragement.

In other news, today was Melbourne Cup Day. I've blogged about it here. It's a day of horse racing that culminates in one afternoon race--they call it "the race that stops a nation". Except for that part of the nation that are picking up their kids from school, as the race takes place just after 3pm. But people still get into the spirit--tons of people dress up in dresses and suits to work, women wear hats or feathers in their hair, everyone bets on the races. This morning, I noticed most of the teachers at the kids' school had dressed for the ocassion.

Very cute. I would love to wear a cute little hat or fascinator, but I think my head is too big. I kind of have a thing about it. Why? Well, mostly because my head is actually too big to ever fit most hats that I've ever tried on in my whole 35 years of life.

When I say this to people, they kind of tilt their head and look at me. "It doesn't look too big," they muse. But then, I'll grab their hat and try to force it onto my freakish cranium. When they see that it squeezes my forehead like a vise grip and leaves a mark, they look the other way. Awkward! It's kinda like this.

Okay, not really. I have blonde hair. When I was in college, my friends and I would joke about my big head, and it became kind of a thing. My friends Amy and Amy (no, really) gave me a card with a cartoon sketch on the front. Two guys stood together, one of them with his neck curving down, with a HUGE head resting on the ground--too big to hold up. The other guy is saying to him, "Dude, your head is just too damn big."

And I am that big-headed dude.

Well, I feel better now. This stream-of-consciousness stuff is just as awesome as they say it is! Do you feel it, too?

I'll see you all back here tomorrow! Bring it on, November!!

Well that was unnecessary.

2011-10-29T22:21:00.004+11:00

I'm getting ready to preach in the morning, but I just had to tell you two perturbing things...

One, President Obama is finally going to visit Australia, and I found out today that he isn't even coming to Sydney! Just Canberra, to speak to Parliament and then off to Darwin, without so much as a, "Hey Amy--I'm in town!" Whaaa? Who comes to Australia and doesn't visit Sydney? Barry, is it something I said?

To top it off, now get this--I had to find out on the radio--not even a call! Or an email! As you might remember, this isn't the first time I've been dissed. And here I was with some shoes that I thought might fit Sasha--she's getting so tall now. Oh well...

Two, (and this is perturbacious fer reals) the CEO of Qantas announced today that they are halting all flights and ground operations on Monday. All of them. ALL OF THE PLANES FOR THE FLYING WILL NOT BE MAKING THE FLIGHTS. There has been some striking going on lately from the pilots, engineers and ground crew and I guess the CEO has just had it. This ain't really my area--union issues and worker's rights are more my brother's passion. But I'm a little irked, cause I happen to have a husband and toddler on the other side of the Pacific at the moment. Who will be hoping to board one of those Qantas planes in another week or so. Harumph!

Can we all just get along?

Okay, back to sermon prep for me... I just needed to talk to someone. Y'all are always there for me.

Unlike a certain leader of the free world who WON'T be getting the Tim Tams and baby koala I've been saving for him. Back into your cage, little Bruce. Maybe next year.

Meanwhile...

2011-10-25T22:39:00.004+11:00

My "Superlatives" post about our trip is coming, y'all! Just waiting to get a few photos emailed to me. I didn't mention in my last post...Jason and Grace are still in California. I know, right? Jase had some bidness he needed to take care of (not as exciting as it sounds!), and I was petrified to make the big trip home with all 3 kids. Plus, once we got here, I needed to hit the ground running to take care of church stuff in his absence. So, his parents are helping out with Grace in the meantime. So, for the first time in 8 years, I have the days on my own. It is truly BIZARRE, but that's another story. And I'm missing my little munchkin. I miss Grace too, of course. Har har har.

Nate's birthday was in our last week in the States. We got to go to Disneyland on the day, and there was much rejoicing. Especially when Nate saw the "Star Tours" section in Tomorrowland...all those Star Wars themed rides was almost more than he could handle. And the "Build Your Own Light Saber" feature at one of the gift shops? Too good to be true.

Since then, you can imagine that it's been all Star Wars, all the time. Since Jase is still in CA,it falls to me to be the Darth Maul to Nate's Obi Wan. He regretfully informed me that there were no evil girls in the story, and I said that was okay.

Actually, I could get used to this. Nate let me use the new fancy light saber and it TOTALLY lights up and makes that awesome humming-y, electric-shocky sound when you hit it. It's so satisfying to thwack someone's torso with it! (A gentle thwacking, of course!) It was some kind of cathartic experience for me, I think. But then Nate used The Force to make me drop it (which, strangely didn't work when I tried the same move on him) and he went in for the kill.

I think I'm gonna practice while he's at school.

Well, that was a trip.

2011-10-20T19:54:00.006+11:00

One month, three kids, nine flights, five states, thirty eight time zones (roughly), two sets of grandparents, five trips to Target, one adorable newborn, four large burritoes (that I remember), multiple cousins and uncles and aunts. Oh, and one attitudinal toddler.

As fast as we whisked away on our trip back to the States, we are back in Sydney! What a great trip it was! I really feel that it was our best trip home so far. I mean, it's always wonderful to go home, but there is usually significant stress involved, too. This time, the kids were older and handled all the travel and time changes really well. No one got sick.(!) We had some fantastic time with our families and many of our friends. I hate to get all rosy on you, but it was a great time!

I have a lot to tell y'all about. However. I don't have the time or the mental acuity right now to do it, though. I'm a wee bit tired. I keep running into things. I stood in front of the open refrigerator for like ten minutes this morning cause I couldn't remember what I opened it for. I am checking to make sure there are no more rodent home invasions like LAST TIME. I'M SORRY I JUST GO TO ALL CAPS WHENEVER I EVEN THINK ABOUT LAST TIME, IT'S LIKE I CAN'T EVEN HANDLE IT, EVEN TWO YEARS LATER. YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN?

Sorry. Can we meet back here real soon? I promise to offer my "Superlatives" post of our trip. You know, like "Best Time on a Zip Line"...

...or "Sweatiest Person at Major Theme Park", or "Most Likely to Catch, Roast and Eat an Insect". You know--just your normal vacation stuff.

Can we meet back here? Soon? But tell me how YOU are. It's like we don't even know each other anymore.

Taking in the view

2011-10-01T01:18:00.007+10:00

Well, we have managed to take 5 different flights and travel about 9,500 miles and we haven't lost anyone yet. Although for several hours on the Sydney to Honolulu leg, I tried to pretend that Grace was someone else's child. That wasn't easy though, as she was in her car seat right next to me, kicking the seat in front of her and yelling her head off. It was late, very late Sydney time and her little brain could not assimilate why she was on a plane and not in her bed. One of Grace's favorite TV shows is a little cartoon called Peppa Pig. We'd loaded several episodes onto our phones for her to watch. If nothing has ever made you question your decision to parent a toddler, that toddler screaming "Pig! Pig!! PIGGGG!!!" at full voice on a plane of sleeping passengers and then throwing the phone after you've frantically pulled up the right video might do the trick. Traveling with small kids is a challenge to say the least. I should do a blog series on it!

But as I repeatedly told myself as we crossed the Pacific, "It will all be worth it, to be with family." And it is! Despite those issues on the plane, all three kids have adjusted to the extreme time changes really well. We spent a lovely and relaxing week in Hawaii, thanks to Jason's mom and dad...

...And now we're in North Carolina with my family.

Life is so, so hard sometimes. In fact, we've been surrounded by such beautiful scenery and things to do that I've only been to Super Target ONE TIME. What has happened to me? You can be sure I'm working to remedy this situation.

More soon! How are you, though? Besides missing me, what have you been up to?

Heading out

2011-09-16T20:09:00.000+10:00

Hiya! So I've sort of neglected to mention that we are flying back to the US for a month. Hey--we're flying back to the US for a month!!

I'm writing from the international terminal at the Sydney airport. In a couple hours, we'll get on a 9 hour flight to Honolulu, and spend a week in Kauai with Jason's mom and dad. I'll spend the first hour in Hawaii shaving my legs, which will be emerging from a long Aussie winter. So if, at some point this week, you glimpse a blinding flash far out on the western horizon, know that it's me emerging in a swimsuit.

The kids haven't seen their cousins in almost 2 years, and we are so excited! Now I'm just hoping that we make it through the flight without Grace causing some kind of international incident or a major FAA code violation.

You'll be hearing from me soon! Oh and one more thing. In case you ever need to know... If you've just put your ATM card into the machine to get cash? And there's a power outage in the building? The machine will eat your card and never give it back. Never never never. And when you call your bank they'll tell you that for security reasons, they don't retrieve eaten cards from stand-alone ATMs.

Then, when you tell them you're leaving the country the following day and would really like the power to access your money, they'll say, "Yeah, that's a real bummer, huh?"

Guess how I know. GUESS.

Aloha!

Warden Threw a Party in the County Jail

2011-09-13T15:50:00.007+10:00

Last week was the school musical, "A Secret History of Rock 'n Roll". It was the social event of the season.

Well at the very least, of our school. The musical was performed in this large outdoor covered area, and the stands were packed with eager parents half an hour before the thing even started. Don't even THINK about showing up at the last minute and getting a good seat.

Each grade level took on an era of rock and did a dance to the music. There was Jerry Lee Lewis, U2, The Beach Boys, Aretha--you name it. The kindergarteners did an Elvis medley. Watching 60 five year olds dance to a mashup of Jailhouse Rock and Blue Suede Shoes was just about as adorable as you'd imagine. To the power of ten if one of those 5 year olds belongs to you. Nate got chosen to wear a Very Special Sparkly Jumpsuit and dance in the front row. Complete with an inflatable guitar and a giant pair of gold sunglasses. He didn't mind the attention so much.

Ava's class danced to "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" and her dance group did their routine to "Walk Like An Egyptian". The night for her was full of activity, as she was in "two dances with a costume change, Mom." She didn't tell us she would be front and center in her class dance. Obviously, it's cause she's the best? And perfect and wonderful in every way?

See her? You have to squint a little. She's in the blue dress, between the two girls in front. Clearly, A STAR IS BORN.

It was kind of strange for songs that felt like "my era" to be portrayed as history now (U2, Nirvana, etc.). But I guess that's the way it's always been. I was telling the kids about how I got to tour Elvis' home when I was a teenager. One of our family's spontaneous, "let's see where we end up" road trips took us to Graceland. It's kind of an epic part of our family history, and funny that we ended up there, considering that my parents weren't big Elvis fans. I remember we listened to Paul Simon's Graceland album as we drove. And the night before the tour, I dreamed that I kissed Elvis. And, strangely, Mr. Spock. Okay, did I just write that? I did. I wrote that. What can I say? I was 13, it was a confusing time all around. I also feel the need to add that it was the young versions of both that I kissed. Is that helpful in any way?

Anyway. Ava and Nate were fascinated that his house had a name, not just "Elvis' house". Nate wanted to know if he could go see it too. Then they asked how he died and why he died before he got old. Hmmm. I glossed over that a bit, and said that he did a lot of things that weren't healthy and made choices that weren't very good. I left out the parts about fried peanut butter sandwiches and passing out on the potty. Some visions shouldn't be tainted.

Who have you dreamed that you kissed? 'FESS UP.

Let's rock. Everybody, let's rock.

Nate just told me I'm almost 100.

2011-09-08T15:27:00.006+10:00

Yesterday I turned 35. Just now, sitting at the table eating leftover birthday cake, Nate asked how old I was. I told him. "Wow! You're nearly a hundred!" Remind me to write a note to his teacher re: counting.

All in all, it was a nice day. Jason took me out to dinner and a movie the night before, which was fun.

You need to find a Thai restaurant right now and order the Lamb Massaman Curry. Cause I don't really like lamb. And I don't really like curry. But this was so delicious that I wanted to crawl inside that bowl and live there forever. Or, maybe just take all that curry and pour it into my purse and take it home. Yum. This was the same restaurant where we had the argument about who was more easygoing. But luckily I didn't bring it up again because I'm so easygoing, and we had a lovely dinner.

I'm not sure what I was doing on my 25th birthday. That was pre-children, we were living in Dallas all footloose and such. We had an apartment the size of your bathroom and worked with college students, so we basically still had that lovely, pancakes-at-1:30am student lifestyle. I'm sure there was a party. And I'm certain that I didn't spend the hours before my birthday dinner date combing through a child's hair to check for head lice. Oh yes, I said it.

I'm not gonna talk about it too much cause it makes my head itch. But we've had this *issue* for a couple of weeks now. My head was itching in that above photo, cause I finished treating the kids' hair, showered them, changed clothes for dinner and ran screaming from the house. It was a little hard to decompress after 2.5 hours of combing, combing, shampooing, sterilizing, and watching multiple episodes of "The Suite Life" on Netflix.

Despite that, I'm thankful to celebrate another year of life! A life that's helped produce some lovely, if mildly infested, children. And a husband I'll be forever grateful for. ("Amy, we are not going to talk about lice anymore. Stop obsessing! This is your birthday dinner!") And of course, there's Grace whom I have taught to give a remarkably good Stinkeye.

No, really. You have to admit--that is a really good Stinkeye. (Read here for my performance of it.) The disdain, the annoyance, the disbelief communicated in that expression! It's taken me years to perfect that look, and she's got it already. I think it's all due to me! What can I say? It's my legacy.

This is what I have to show for the past year.

Wild, wild life

2011-09-04T22:07:00.008+10:00

Y'all, look at this bird.

Don't you wanna snuggle it? Or okay, maybe just pet it? It looks so fluffy! Like those cartoon birds in a Pixar film. This, my dears, is a Tawny Frogmouth. From far away, it can be mistaken for an owl, but please don't embarrass yourself in front of others and call it an owl, okay? My neighbour and I spotted one in her yard a few months back, and I was excited to see one up close. I don't really know why. I'm not really a bird person. But isn't it appealing, this bird?

Some of you (you know who you are) will need to forgive me when I tell you that the name Tawny Frogmouth makes me think of an exotic dancer. Or perhaps a TV news anchorwoman. You know, like, "Reporting live from the 14th Annual Chickpea Festival, I'm Tawny Frogmouth." If you're wondering whether I spent the whole day yesterday making Tawny Frogmouth jokes to myself, you would be right. "I painted the sunroom the most sublime shade of green. It's Behr's Tawny Frogmouth." "Well, the first few days of our Fiji vacation were fabulous, but then Troy caught Tawny Frogmouth from the salad bar at the hotel. I know, right? That rash took ages to clear up."

Shall I go on? No?

Yesterday, we went to the Australian Reptile Park. Today is Father's Day in Australia, and we celebrated a day early. We had a great time checking out all the animals. I got to pet the cutest little baby wombat! Grace mostly followed the emus around. They didn't seem to wanna hang around her.

She marched after these 2 for quite a while, shouting, "Hey!"

We had a fun Father's Day service at church today, and then had a barbecue and bonfire with some friends tonight.

Our friend Holly shared her last bag of American marshmallows with us. That is true friendship. Of course, a bonfire is not exactly relaxing when you have a 2 year old on the scene. Grace has no concept yet of fire safety, as you might imagine. We wrangled, we distracted, we admonished. Jason eventually gave up and brought her home early--a father doing his job on Father's Day. What a dude. And then the rest of us watched the little dog chase the alpacas around. What? You don't have alpacas at your Father's Day BBQ and marshmallow roast? That's odd.

With very busy weeks on either side, it was a great weekend. How are you? Any interesting wildlife sightings?

Well, from all of us here in suburban Sydney, I'm Tawny Frogmouth. You stay classy.

Hit a Nerve

2011-08-26T14:56:00.004+10:00

Yesterday I saw someone's status update on Facebook that referred to "paying tribute to Steve Jobs". We've had a busy week, and I haven't seen much news lately. I looked up from my phone and asked Jason, "Hey, did Steve Jobs pass away?"

We were both standing in the kitchen, Jason was slicing a loaf of bread. His head whipped up and he looked at me. "No," he said emphatically, "He's just stepped down as CEO of Apple. But he's still on the board and will be very involved."

Oh my gosh you guys, I wish I could do a better job here of conveying tone. Because the way he said this--it was as if I'd insulted his mama. Like I'd made an accusation instead of asking a question. Not even a loaded question, just a question! He sounded defensive, as if there'd been all this misinformation about Steve Jobs out there and he'd spent all day talking to people, taking phone calls, hitting the airwaves to set the record straight; only to find the lies in his own home. His own home! (Can you imagine it now?)

He said that, and my jaw opened just a scootch. We looked at each other for a second. Then we both started laughing. "Wow. Babe," I said. "Didn't mean to hit a nerve there." "Oh," he said, "I said it that way to be funny. Like I'm some kind of Apple nerd, you know?"

Oh. Okay.

Jason has an unabashed love of Apple and all iProducts. Oh--and please don't ever slam Google Plus because then Jason will have to tell you all about its superiority and all the different circles you can be in and how its web conferencing capabilities are peerless and if I have to hear about it again I will die. I will fall to the ground and be taken up lifeless and it will be all your fault.

But anyway, our little exchange got me thinking. Do you have any products/companies that you are a teensy bit irrationally attached to? Like, you take it personally if someone else slights or criticizes them? I think I'm a little like this about Chik-fil-a. I don't really know why. I guess it's just that the food is just so yummy and the people that work there are always so earnest and eager to please. I suppose I can be a little defensive of Target as well. Why do people gotta hate on cute bargains, anyway? But I don't think I have a regard for any product or company that approaches Jason's for Apple, or Google.

All I know is that from now on, I'll be careful how I mention Steve Jobs' name around here. There are some issues in a marriage that you just have to tiptoe around.

Reasons we rarely eat out

2011-08-23T23:12:00.000+10:00

1. When restaurants advertise a "homey" environment, that doesn't *actually* mean you can take your pants off and lay under the table.

2. The food Nate likes is scorned by Ava. The type of restaurant Ava likes has the chicken Nate won't eat. And no place serves peanut butter and jelly, which is what Grace most often wants for dinner.

3. When Grace gets Crazy Eyes, we have to hide the cutlery. (see photo)

4. It's not actually appropriate to lick the salt shaker. (Nate)

5. Or to eat food off the floor. (Um, Nate.)

6. When coloring sheets, one iPad and two iPhones won't entertain one 2 year old for a 40 minute meal, you really need to ask yourself: where have we gone wrong?

7. The candy that we're coerced to buy at the shop next door while taking the aforementioned 2 year old for a walk before the food arrives will spoil her dinner anyway.

8. Listening to Jason bemoan the lack of free refills in our adopted country gets old after awhile. (Though he does have a point!)

9. The kids Hawaiian pizza either has too much pineapple or not enough cheese. This is a scientific fact.

10. "No, they don't have a playland.... I don't know why....Because we're just supposed to sit here together and enjoy ourselves..... By talking to each other and being together as a family. Isn't that nice?..... No, I don't know why there isn't a Playland..... Hey--go see what's in that potted plant over there."

Best Argument I've Heard So Far

2011-08-15T22:43:00.001+10:00

Yesterday, I was rushing home with the kids after church. We were having some people over for lunch, and I still needed to go to the grocery store. Why people expect you to actually have food for them when you invite them to lunch is beyond me. But these are the constraints I find myself working within.

The kids were hungry and Grace was shrieking "Chicken! Fries!" as we got into the car, so I ran through the McDonalds drive thru, (don't judge) and then headed towards our house. The plan was to drop them at our house so I could get Grace down for her nap, put a movie on for Nate, then rush back out to the store. (We have friends staying with us right now, so there was adult supervision.)

So we're sitting at a red light and Nate asks me, "Mom, what if Dad had married someone else?" Now, you might remember Nate has brought this up before, that time he asked Jason why he married me, and then asked him, "But who was your second choice?" I'm starting to get a complex.

"Well," I said, looking at him in the rearview mirror, "I'd be really sad, cause then I guess I wouldn't get to be your mom."

Nate shook his head. "But if he married someone else, then you could buy the chicken nuggets while she goes to the grocery store."

I am not even kidding you, that's what he said. And now I can say the most compelling argument I've ever heard for polygamy came from my 5 year old son.

Chicken nuggets for everyone!!

Impulse of the Moment

2011-08-13T09:04:00.002+10:00

I never promised that I'd be mature all the time, you see.

Jason was up and out early this morning, and as I was awake way too late last night, first watching An Affair To Remember (sigh) and then reading, it was with a fuzzy head that I got up with the kids this morning. No one tells Grace that it's the weekend, so she persists in waking at 6:30 whether it's a school day or not.

Then, I couldn't keep the fire going (I know, tragic) so I'm huddled here in my bathrobe, chilly and totally unmotivated to do much of anything. It's okay, that happens sometimes. A few minutes ago, scrolling through my Facebook newsfeed, it occurred to me that I hadn't seen any updates from one of my FB friends in a long time.

She and I went to high school together, and were really good friends. We were in the same classes, we both wrote for the school paper, we both pretended to not want to go to prom. (ButI think she went? Can't remember. I didn't go--CAN YOU BELIEVE?? What is it with boysssss?) Anyway. After we graduated, I went away to school and she stayed local. We lost touch, as you do. But I always kinda got the vibe that she was annoyed that I didn't do a better job keeping up. This was when The Email was just getting started, you see, so it was a bit harder in days of yore. But what can one do. It was, like, a new chapter? I was off in college? Finding myself, meeting Jason, eating too much at late night establishments and philosophizing. As you do.

I friended her on FB a couple years ago, just to catch up. I realized this morning that I hadn't seen her updates lately, so I checked and Y'ALL WE AREN'T FB FRIENDS ANYMORE. Girl unfriended me, straight up.

Truth? I don't mind too much. Cause she plays that Farmville game CONSTANTLY, and her buying chicken feed or wheelbarrows and asking for plywood or whatever all the dang time was clogging up my newsfeed. (No offense if you play that game, but the rest of us find the constant updates super annoying. We've talked.)

I usually don't notice when I "lose" a FB friend, I don't really keep track of my number, so the only way I notice is if I think of them and then realize they're not on my list anymore.

Here is the mature response in that situation: do nothing. Right? Like, duh, I know that. Here is what I just did: requested her as a friend again. Why? I have no idea. I'm cold and sleepy? I've made breakfast for Grace 3 times already this morning and needed a diversion? Idle hands are the devil's something or other?

It's part of my personality to go to extreme lengths to not make others feel awkward. I don't want to put you in a position of feeling uncomfortable or embarassed. But as I sat here, looking at her profile and the little "Add as Friend" button, a chuckle escaped me. What'll she do, I wondered, when she knows that I know? And that I know she knows I know? You know?

Reader, I clicked it. The button, I mean. Mwahahahahaha! Daring, you say? Cheeky? Oh yes. It is on. On in the way that Donkey Kong is also on.

This is why FB gets folks in trouble. Seriously as someone who works with folks, I can't tell you how many times Facebook plays a very real role in people having "issues" with each other. (I mean, I can't tell you because I can't tell you, not cause it's happened more times than I can count. But still, it happens a lot.) The social distance afforded by interacting online facilitates us doing and saying things we wouldn't in person. And now, I'm forcing myself upon my used to be high school friend! Just to give her a hard time for unfriending me!! How petty is that!! I feel so dangerous right now! Who knows what happens next? I might post a controversial political opinion! I could tell someone I don't like their new haircut!

This stuff just got real, y'all.

But probably, I'll do none of this stuff. Cause I hate conflict and also, I mostly use FB to see everyone's pictures of kids and fancy meals they eat.

The world will keep turning. But if you ask me to help you buy a new axle for your hay wagon or whatever, someone's gonna get hurt.

Eggceptional Effort

2011-08-04T23:12:00.007+10:00

Last Monday, I was out on our balcony enjoying the sunshine when I noticed a bit of broken eggshell on the ground by my foot. I picked it up to throw it away, wondering how it'd gotten there. I figured that Grace had perhaps dug it out of the trash and carried it outside. Something that is entirely within the realm of possibility. Especially because when you ask her to take anything to any place: the cup to the sink, the phone to Daddy, the cookie to Nate; she marches right over to the garbage can, lifts the lid, and chucks it in. You'd think I would learn to stop giving her errands.

I didn't think about it again till a couple hours later, when walking through one of the rooms that fronts our balcony, I noticed a huge splat-like smear on the sliding glass door. Aha! Someone threw an egg at our window. Weird. We'd been out pretty much the whole day Sunday, so I wasn't sure if it had happened on Saturday night or Sunday night.

Later that afternoon, I was telling Jason about it. "What kinda creeps me out, " I told him, "is that someone would've had to come all the way up onto our driveway in order to hit the window." You see, our house is on a steep hillside--the driveway is about 12 feet below our house and wraparound balcony, and the street is about 30 feet below that. I just couldn't picture someone tossing an egg from the road, given the distance and the angle, and hitting our window. But then again, I got a D in Physics, so what do I know? (For instance, I don't even know if that's Physics. Geometry? Poultry Sciences?)

I made the driveway comment, and Jason shook his head. "Babe," he said in the way he says it when he's going to school me. "Someone could easily chuck an egg from the street and hit our window. There's no way they were on our driveway." "Do you really think so?" I said, "Cause it just seems like such an awkward throw. I don't know..." "Oh yeah," he said, "Totally do-able."

Of course, you see where this is going, right? "Well," I said, "If it's so easy let's see you go out there and get 'er done. If you think you can." And then Jason answered in this robotic voice: "CANNOT RESIST CHALLENGE TO MASCULINITY. ATHLETIC PROWESS THREATENED. MUST THROW EGG. MUST CHUCK EGG. MUST GO NOW."

Okay, that last part didn't happen. But you know how dudes can get. Of course, I told him as he was gathering a couple eggs that this endeavor was crying out to be blogged. Full disclosure and all.
Here he is, in position. I took this from the driveway, looking down, so keep in mind he's gotta throw it farther up and over.

And the wind-up...crack! A lone egg flew threw the air, making up to the level of the driveway, but smashing on the tire of our car...not at all high enough to sail over the balcony railing. I laughed loudly. Like, it echoed. Who knew egging houses was so much fun? Being the competitive guy he is, there was no way Jason was stopping now. By this time, Ava and Nate noticed something going on. So they joined Jason for his next attempt. (This is the vantage point from the balcony. Do you love how technical I'm being? I should do a graph or something.)

Round 2...oh no! This one landed just to the right of where the first one hit. A big disappointment for Mr. Cavalier egg chucker down there. Maybe this egg tossing isn't so simple, hmmm? By this point, I am laughing so hard--I think it was some sort of catharsis for me--and Grace is crying in my arms cause why is Daddy throwing stuff at us? But Jase had to give it one more go.

And...better this time--he made it up and over the railing, but failed to hit high up on the window where the initial egg had hit. Instead, it hit the floor.

Awww. Wop wop, Jason. In the battle between you and Egg Physics and/or Geometry, looks like you lose. Ouch. That must hurt, confronting your own limitations like that.

Of course, he called out from the street, "I need to give it one more go!" Ava was dispatched to get a fourth egg. "Babe!" I called down, "We shouldn't--these are free range!" If I'd known we were gonna be egging our own house today, I would've bought the cheapie cage eggs.

So, as it stands...we're still not sure what happened on that fateful night some ruffian egged our house. Although our friend Andy pointed out, perhaps they did it from the street with a catapult or a slingshot? The world may never know.

But what you lose in egg inventory, you gain double in laughing at your husband. And that, my friends, is Physics.

Now that takes core strength

2011-07-27T22:46:00.003+10:00

I went to Pilates tonight...I've been going for about 6 weeks. Anyway, I've been home for a couple hours now, and I can already tell I'm gonna be sore tomorrow. "Core" this and "pelvic floor" that. Sheesh. I think my core must be made of marshmallow creme. Or peanut butter. Cause, wow. That class is (air quotes) challenging for me. But I'm sure within a few more weeks I'll have a full-on six pack. So, not to worry.

But what I really came to say is that I have a new nephew! Now if you're friends with me or my sister on Facebook, you've heard about this, probably ad nauseam. Well, you're gonna hear it again, mister! My brother David and his wife Kate just had their first baby! (Well, Katie had the baby, but Dave was definitely involved.)

Sunday night, I got a text from my brother that they were going to the hospital. So I spent all day Monday on pins and needles, waiting to hear news. It was like, Hmmm...what's the fine line between being a concerned, involved sister and driving people up the wall with text messages, phone calls, and emails? Yeah. Not sure which side I fell on that one! Then finally, on Monday night Dad sent me a message: Baby Gabriel is here!

Now, really. I know that to many of you, that's just a photo of someone else's baby. But how adorable is he?? With his little baby forehead? And that tiny baby chin? And his baby eyes so wide open? Gabriel Wayne will fight you with his bare baby fists to win the title of Cutest-Nephew-Slash-Baby-Ever. You are so going down. After all, he shares his middle name with his freshly minted Dad and his paternal Grandfather. That's some serious bad-assery right there. So I think it's better if you just agree with me that Dave and Katie have produced one gorgeous little person.

Having had a few kids now, I just wanna do a fist pump in the air for every new mom. Childbirth is no easy experience to endure, to put it mildly. I'm so proud of Katie, who is one tough cookie. She used to compete in rodeos, doing barrel racing and other things I would pee myself just thinking about. She endured a really difficult day and came shining through, with a sweet baby boy on the other end. Yay for moms! Yay for babies! Yay for baby foreheads and cheeks! Congrats to Dave and Katie--love y'all!

And now, speaking of peeing oneself, my pelvic floor and I are heading to bed. But come back in a day or so...I need to tell you about Jason and I acting like morons. So hard to imagine.

Somebody should be writing this down. Oh, wait.

2011-07-17T22:22:00.004+10:00

This afternoon we got in the car to go meet up with some friends at a local pub. As Jason pulled away from the house, Nate asked, "Dad, why do you always drive? Is that one of your talents?" Jason grinned and with a sideways glance at me, said, "Yeah, Nate, I think I'm pretty good at it." Then I nearly pulled a muscle rolling my eyes, but that's not the point of this story.

This got Nate talking about talents. He asked us what we thought he was good at. So we started telling him all sorts of good things about himself. (Ava was with the friends we were meeting at the pub, otherwise I'm sure she would've wanted in on this, too.) We told him how observant he is; how he notices things that most people don't, how he has a good heart, how he is very funny and makes us laugh. He didn't really understand what we meant by "observant", so Jason tried to explain to Nate that he often sees things differently than others, and notices what others don't. Nate wasn't so sure this was a talent--I think he was hoping we'd talk about light saber skills or how good he is on his scooter. You know, exciting stuff.

Later, as we all drove back home, the kids were telling us about who they played with at the pub. Hmmm, I should explain to my non-Aussie readers. Prior to moving here, my idea of a "pub" was that it was strictly a bar--for adults only. However, here, a lot of pubs are actually quite family-friendly. Families go there on weekend afternoons to eat and listen to live music. The one we go to a lot has a huge outdoor seating area, and on Sundays there's a petting zoo for kids and jumping castles, as well as a playground.

Anyway, the kids were telling us about some girl vs. boy drama that happened in the jumping castle. Nate said, "Some girl called me a scaredy-cat!" We asked him what he said in return, and he said he told her that no, she was the scaredy-cat. But he wasn't too pleased with that comeback. We were talking over other possible responses--we've been trying to teach the kids how to speak up for themselves. Not teaching them to be rude, but just trying to help them have the confidence to speak. Ava weighed in with her opinion--it wasn't nice to call the girl a scaredy-cat back--we gave some other possible replies.

Then, Nate said, "What I shoulda done is call her an animal name cause she called me an animal name. So, like if she called me a scaredy cat, then I could call her a deadly snake." Jason and I both cracked up laughing--at the sheer unexpectedness of it. A deadly snake?? Who does that? Nate protested when we laughed: it wasn't funny, he said, he was being serious.

Okay, Natey. And this, right here, is a perfect example of one of your talents. I would've never thought of that.

We Represented

2011-07-13T23:12:00.010+10:00

Wheee! Go, America, go!

Oh, you know we celebrated our Independence. We celebrated the heck out of it, y'all. Our Fourth of July Party (on July 9th, but shhh) was a success! I think. We had fun, at least! But here's a note if you ever pastor a church and then host a party for 40 people on a Saturday night. You will not go to bed until the wee hours of Sunday morning, and then you will need to be awake again in the slightly less wee hours of Sunday morning. Ya know--cause church and stuff.

But we had a great time! As I said before, the group of friends we've gotten to know from the kids' school, as well as a few other friends we invited, is quite international, and I loved having such a mixed group of folks over. It was fun to serve up a little slice of Americana.

Once the party started I got busy and didn't actually get any pictures. I know! But here's a few I took beforehand...

Our hallway, all festooned. Yes, that's the Texas flag! A friend of ours works for a printing company and showed up the day of the party with loads of American flag signs and banners that he'd printed out for us. So sweet.

And...the obligatory flag cake! Cream cheese icing...yuummmm. I'd never made one before, would you believe. The one I was copying had blueberries in the upper corner, for the stars. But blueberries were like 10 bucks for a tiny little amount. So I had to improvise. My patriotism has its limits.

I printed out lots of little quotes and "fun facts" about America and posted them all over the house for people to read. The kids helped decorate them, too. Here's a few:

This one was a crowd favorite:

And I couldn't resist this one. Classic:

Oh, W. As we say in the South, bless his heart. Anyway, we had a great time! The kids ran riot all over the house, and Jason manned the BBQ and turned out some of the best burgers I've had in awhile! And in spite of a chilly winter's night, at least half of the adults sat outside all evening, around a nice fire. So we got to have our backyard barbecue after all!

The only downside was that the crowd pressured me into singing the national anthem when we cut the cake. By "pressured", I mean they suggested it and I was like, "Okay!" But it wasn't my best performance. There's a reason all those pop stars mess up The Star Spangled Banner at the Super Bowl--that is not an easy song! Someone did take photos of that moment, but I'm hoping they will remain locked away forever. I feel that my talents would've been best displayed in a lower key, but there's always next year!

Hahaha. Ha.

Party up in here

2011-07-08T21:10:00.005+10:00

We're hosting a 4th of July party here at the house tomorrow evening. Yes, I know it's July 9th, but stop being so pedantic. In six years of living here, we've never really formally observed our Independence Day, and we thought it'd be fun to have a bunch of friends over for a BBQ. We've invited other families from the kids' school, as well as other friends, and it's quite an international group of folks. Aussies, Italians, Irish, South African, Kiwi, British--and yes, a couple Americans, too. I'm excited! Today Jason said, "So, how many people are actually coming tomorrow?" And I said, "Um, I'm not actually sure. I've just been inviting people and I've kind of lost track." I have a way of doing that.

On the menu? Cheeseburgers, baby. Real, meaty, juicy American cheeseburgers. There are many things to love about Australia, but finding a great burger is challenging for us here. (At least, what we'd consider a great burger.) Aussies like to put fried eggs and beetroot on their burgers. Now, normally I'm all about accepting the culture and adapting to cultural norms--but this is my dang party and I'm gonna have my dang cheeseburgers like I want 'em. Anybody got a problem with that?

Of course...it's winter here. So, our backyard BBQ will have a firepit and blankets, and most of us will probably end up indoors. But the plus side? No mosquitoes! And no food poisoning from picnic food gone bad! Everybody wins!

The only thing to dampen our party cheer? The thought that I'll possibly need to sell a major organ to afford our trip back to the States in mid-September. Jason's been looking into tickets, and when he told me what it'd cost to get us just to LA and back, I nearly wet myself. We're planning to stop off in Hawaii to celebrate Jason's dad's 70th with the fam, and my friends, wow. Never fear, though! I'm sure it will work out. Do you know, by the way, if you can list kidneys on Craigslist? I'm asking cause a friend wants to know.

Anyway, I'm sure I'll report back with a party play-by-play. A night with friends, yummy food, and for once, getting to indulge myself in my cheesy American-ness. Yay! As Grace likes to say, "Sweeeet."

There Ought to be a Law

2011-07-05T21:32:00.005+10:00

We are finally emerging from a week of sickness. Ugh. Well, mostly me. The kids seemed to bounce back pretty quickly. But I have been mired in the Land of Sinus Headaches and Body Aches for over a week now. Much better today, though! So, there's that! In the midst of that, I hosted a women's retreat at our church on Saturday. While I was up front welcoming everyone, I got one of those throat tickles. You know, where you can't stop coughing? My eyes were watering, too. And then my nose started running, and I was sniffing but forgetting to hold the microphone away from my face when I sniffed. So it was, like, surround sound sniffing. And coughing. Not one of my better moments. I'm sure that I inspired many.

Ava and Nate are on school holidays right now--the break between Term 2 and 3. We celebrated yesterday by heading into the city for breakfast at Darling Harbour.

We wandered around for a bit, and Ava and Nate did a bungee trampoline thingy (more tame than it sounds, Mom!) and then we went on the merry-go-round.

Nate tried to tell me that he was too old to go on a merry-go-round, but then he changed his mind.

And then today I did a bad thing.

It was impulsive.

I've done it once before, with similar results.

I cut Grace's hair.

Okay, okay, but listen! Listen!! As you can see from the photos above, her bangs (fringe) have gotten way too long. And she violently protests any attempt to put clips, bows, or elastics in her hair. So it gets in her eyes all the time. Lately, with it being cold season, she's developed a signature move:wiping her nose with her sleeve and pushing her hair out of her eyes in the same movement. Her eye has been red lately, so I started to worry that she's getting hair snot in it. Or snot hair, I'm not sure which.

So, today, I plopped her in front of the TV, gave her a cookie, and went for it. She wouldn't let me brush it all forward and kept moving her head, so I couldn't get it even. She kept saying, "No, Mom! No!" It looks pretty bad. I started laughing when I was done, but then I felt bad. Luckily, she doesn't realize that this is not a good look:

Sooo crooked. So very, very crooked. And too short. And crooked. I texted the photo to my neighbour Jules, and she just laughed at me. Via text, which is even worse. I emailed it to my parents and Becky, and Becky said, "You need to stop that right now."

I know what you're thinking. Okay, Mr. Perfect McSmartypants!! You don't even need to tell me, I know it is a total rubbish job! I didn't research technique or method, and I basically doomed my child to a month or so of looking like Lloyd from Dumb and Dumber. (Yes, again.)

I won't be doing that again. I am hanging up my scissors for good.

But enough about me. Are you well? Did my American buds have a good Fourth of July? How's everyone else?

But really, we are okay.

2011-06-28T16:13:00.002+10:00

Listen, here's the thing. You should never allow yourself to think, "Wow--we're all pretty healthy right now, no one's been sick in awhile!" Because then YOU ARE DOOMED. Everyone will start throwing up everywhere or get fevers and your house will fall down around your ears. All because you got cocky. Nice work, You.

Okay, not really. I'm not a superstitious person. But that's what this past week has felt like. I was thinking how nice it was that we'd all been healthy this winter. Then Grace got sick, then she got better, then she got sick. Then I got sick and Grace was still sick. Then Grace started to feel better and Ava got sick. Then I still felt bad and Ava was like, meh, and then Nate got sick. (This was all in about 72 hours' time.) And now, the kids are pretty much okay, I am feeling better but still sort of lousy, and Grace might have conjunctivitis.

God, save me from conjunctivitis! No, really. Please?

I have become a wraith-like figure that roams from room to room of the house, obsessively disinfecting doorknobs and remote controls. Sometimes, on moonlit nights, you can hear me rummaging for cough medicine and spraying disinfectant on the refrigerator door handle. And the control pad of the microwave! For goodness' sake, don't forget to disinfect the microwave or you will all surely die.

In fact, let's all just stop touching things that other people will eventually touch. Can we agree to do that? All you're doing is spreading contagion and you should stop.

I am losing it just a little. Trying to give eye drops to a vengeful 2 year old will do that to a person.

Growing Pains (Minus Kirk Cameron)

2011-06-24T12:49:00.004+10:00

Lately, I've had the realization that Ava and Nate are really getting older. Now, I know that's obvious--but what I mean is, the way we parent them is needing to change a little bit. At 5 1/2 and 7 1/2, they are asking lots of questions, and I can tell they are trying to figure out how the world works. I guess what I'm saying is, for their earliest years we've shielded them from certain realities, and now I can tell that it's time to walk them through some of those things.

Ava has had a few bad dreams lately. About once a week, she comes to our room in the middle of the night, crawls in bed with me for a bit, and then lets me tuck her back in. She never seems terribly upset, so I tried not to make a big deal of it. One morning, though, I asked her if she remembered what her dream had been about. She nodded her head. She told me she'd dreamed that someone had come to our house and stolen Grace. Another time, she dreamed that Jason and I had died. Her dreams are no longer about monsters and boogeymen, but about real-world scenarios. At first, I wondered if she'd been watching something on TV or reading something that made her afraid, but I think it's that she's getting older--she's realizing that, you know? Stuff happens. And although I know it's necessary for her to mature, it sure is painful to watch.

My Nate is quite a thinker, it seems. On one hand, he is a whirling dervish of a boy: perpetually dirty fingernails, kicking the soccer ball in the house, pushing all his sisters' buttons. On the other, I can tell that he is really thinking about things. Observing, watching Jason and I, listening to what we say and how we say it. (Sheesh--no pressure, right?)

A few nights ago, I was tucking him in bed. After I finished singing him our goodnight song, (which he rolls his eyes at but secretly loves), he looked up at me. "Mom?" he said, "Why do some parents die?" Yikes. Now, can I be honest? My favorite TV show was coming on right at that moment, and I was rushing the whole bedtime thing. So I was sorely tempted to just divert the question and get back to the living room! But I stifled that urge.

You see, when a 3 year old Nate or Ava would ask questions like that, Jason or I were always quick to assure them that they are safe, that Mom and Dad are here to protect them, that God loves them and is their ultimate Protector. I just never felt like they could grasp the nuance that, yes, bad stuff can happen, but that we shouldn't be afraid. So we mostly glossed over it at that stage. Maybe that wasn't wise, but it just seemed to make sense to me.

I mean, really--do any of us ever feel like we know what we're doing in this whole parenting thing? I don't. But now, Nate is older. He gets that things go wrong, sometimes very wrong. So I said, "Well, buddy sometimes really sad things can happen. Most people live a long time, but sometimes there can be bad accidents or very serious sickness and people can die. Sometimes even parents can die. And it's really hard to understand why that happens."

He nodded, like he'd already considered all that, and then said, "But God loves us, and you guys are pastors, so things like that won't happen to us." He wasn't upset, just reflective. And my heart broke a little, cause isn't that what we all do? Try to find a reason, any reason, why "it won't happen to me"? Now, to a younger Nate, I might have deflected that and just reassured him that God did indeed love us. (And then try to leave his room in a hurry!) But this time, I knew he needed more. So I said, "Well, God does love us--so much more than we can know. But that doesn't mean that bad things can't happen. Just cause Daddy and I are pastors doesn't mean that we are any different than anyone else--God sees us all the same."

Then I leaned in a little and looked at him closely. "The thing is, Natey--we all have to learn that God loves us enough to help us when bad things happen, even if He lets that bad thing happen to us." I would so much rather tell him that Jason and I will never die, that his life will run a smooth course--and when he was smaller, I pretty much let him believe that. But it's time, little by little, to help him understand that life is uncertain sometimes.

And that kind of stinks.

Now, I said all this and kind of held my breath to see what he'd say. But--and isn't this true with kids?--what you think is going to be this amazing, teachable moment goes out with a whimper instead of the bang you were hoping for! As I was saying all that, he was listening. Then he says, "Mom?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

"Can I get a new bookshelf in my room?" And...on to the next thing! Or maybe that was code for "Let's talk about something else now." Which honestly, I was perfectly happy to do!

We are doing the best we can, and Lord, I hope it's good enough.

New Frontier

2011-06-21T14:08:00.002+10:00

I tried a new aerobics class today. I usually wait until I have a friend with me before I try a new class, that way if I lose consciousness then at least someone in there will know who my next of kin is. But I've been exercising regularly for awhile now, and I thought I could handle it.

I should've known better. The class had "Attack" in the title, and I'm more of a pacifist when it comes to life and exercise. The instructor kept shouting that she was going easy on us today, which made me think that the "normal" class must be some kind of advanced Navy SEAL training. I survived and everything--I mean, I'm not blogging from the afterlife, but it was tough. It was sports-inspired, high impact aerobics. And given that I've never tried speed skating on the ice, it wasn't very easy for me to simulate it in running shoes. Also, I am lousy at push ups. And when we were mimicking ski jumps--jumping with both knees up as high as we could get 'em, and then leaping from side to side--I thought, I'm going to die in here and I never even started the dishwasher this morning. So much left undone.

Anyway, I think my growing familiarity with Zumba has made me a little flippant. Cause this class was a whole nother level, y'all. When the hour was finished, my face was a brilliant shade of red. I think it should be a paint color. We could call it "Aerobics Newbie Red". What do you think? It's a red just a shade lighter than "Cardiac Explosion". It pairs nicely with neutral furnishings.

Of course, I'll go back. But this time I'm either making a friend come with me, or I'm gonna write Jason's mobile number on the back of my shirt with a Sharpie. "If asphyxiated or crying like a little girl, call this number."

Speculation

2011-06-17T23:00:00.001+10:00

Ava has been rocking the side ponytail look lately. She's got it goin' on. I guess it's what all the 7-8 year olds are doing. Do you think the 34 year olds could do it too? Cause it just looks so cute on her!

Oh Lord, am I already becoming one of those moms who wanna dress like their daughters? THAT'S not sad.

But have I tried it, in the privacy of my own bathroom? Tilting my head in the mirror and swishing my hair back and forth? Maybe. The world may never know for sure.

Other things that simply can't be verified: if I imagine myself performing live the songs I listen to at the gym (the crowd goes wild, duh), or if I pretend to be talking on my phone to avoid those Dead Sea Scrub and mineral makeup people at the mall. Also, if I unintentionally walk in rhythm to the beat of songs played over the loudspeaker in stores. Sashay, sashay.

These are all pure conjecture.

Anyway: side ponytails. Should we all give them a go? Who's with me, guys?

Guys?

Grace is 2! And also Come See This.

2011-06-15T21:08:00.010+10:00

You guys, Grace turned 2 on Friday! Todd and Donna--some good friends of ours-- were visiting from Auckland last week. They just so happened to also be visiting us the week Gracie was born. That week two years ago, Donna kept our house clean and full of homemade soup, chicken wings, fresh salsa and pecan shortbread cookies. Friday morning--2 years to the day later--we all went into the city to Darling Harbour, and walked around the Chinese Gardens there. Grace had fun yelling at the koi fish and making me think she was going to fall off the little stone bridges. (I'll tell you another time why koi fish totally gross me out. I got all squicky.)

Shhh! Don't tell the big kids. They were at school and they don't think anything fun can happen without them.

Monday night we took our friends into the city for dinner and to see Vivid Sydney, a light show that was going on through downtown. We had dinner at a German Pub, which ended up being really fun. These three old guys in leiderhosen were playing and singing to a noisy crowd of tourists and we had a ball. And ate lots of schnitzel and giant pretzels.

Then I did something that is probably wrong. Okay, it's mostly definitely wrong. But I was giddy and hopped up on Diet Coke and carbohydrates. Anyway, the guy at the table behind us was rocking the most fantastic frosted, feathered, hairsprayed blonde mullet EVER. My friend Donna and I were snickering about it and then I decided I needed a picture of it. NEEDED. It was a need, okay?

I have a history of this. So does my sister. Which means it's genetic, which means I blame my parents. Yay! Anyway--

"You're beautiful, baby. Don't ever change."

Now do you see why I needed? And you know what's funny? Right after I made Jason sneakily snap that photo on my iPhone, 1987 called and asked for its hair back. Also:

Side view! This look don't come easy, folks.

Then Donna pointed out that the Hair looked a lot like the guys in Duran Duran--remember Simon?

Then we started singing "Hungry Like the Wolf" and chair-dancing, and I almost wet myself from laughing.

Maybe you just had to be there? But I'm pretty sure it was the Funniest Thing Ever.

Then we all sang Edelweiss with the band, which topped off the evening perfectly.

That's what I've got. Birthdays, pretzels, and awesome mullets, in that order. But how are you?

Keeping options open

2011-06-09T21:51:00.000+10:00

For the first time this year, Ava and Nate seemed to take a real interest in the fact that it was our anniversary. I'm not sure why--we hadn't really made a big deal of it. But about 4-5 days prior, Ava started counting down, and they would both hide out and work on cards for us.

They asked what "anniversary" meant and why it's celebrated. We talked about how long we have been married, they asked how many years we had been married when they were each born--that kind of stuff.

Last Saturday, we were driving home from the park. From the back Nate called out, "Dad? Why did you marry Amy?" (I thought it was really funny that he chose in that instance to use my name--he never does that.)

"Well," Jason said, "I fell in love with her, and I thought she was the most wonderful woman I'd ever met. And she is!" (Nice one, babe! Plus 10 points.)

Silence from the back of the car. Nate thinks for a few seconds. Then he asks, "But who was your second choice?"

I'm really not sure how to take that one.

Bad Idea

2011-06-07T22:20:00.005+10:00

Last Saturday, we got home from the park and put Grace down for her nap. Ava and Nate went into their rooms for rest time. (Rest time=best time) I had some lunch and was reading in our sitting room. The sun was shining in through the window, and I was getting all warm and sleepy feeling. I was contemplating whether or not I should stretch out on the couch to snooze or if I should go upstairs to my bedroom. One of the tough decisions of life.

At that point, I heard a car race by on the street. I've mentioned before, our house is set up on a steep hillside. Beyond our driveway, which is cut into the hill, is a 10 meter drop--straight to the street below. And on the other side of our street--opposite all the houses--is a ravine. A steep drop, about 60 feet or so. I could hear this car, with a really loud engine, roaring by down there on the road. Going way, way too fast on our neighbourhood street. My first thought was what any mother's would be: If they wake up my kid, I will be majorly ticked.

About 30 seconds later, I could hear the car coming back. Obviously they had gone up the street, turned around and were racing back the other direction. I was sitting in a chair right next to a sliding glass door that leads onto our front porch. As I heard the car coming closer, I stood up and looked out the window--I wanted to see who was disturbing my tranquility.

The instant I stood and the car came into view, I watched it swerve out of control and slam into the guardrail. It then bounced and spun away from the guardrail and came to rest in the street. All within 2-3 seconds. Right in front of our house. The crash was incredibly loud. "Oh no!" I ran into the kitchen and out onto our balcony, Jason following behind me.

The car was so messed up, I thought for sure we were going to be calling an ambulance. But within seconds of me running onto our balcony, two teenage boys spilled out of the front seats. The passenger was shouting at the driver, using all sorts of descriptive adjectives. And some nouns thrown in there too. Let's just say that the passenger didn't think too highly of the driver, or his mother in that moment.

Jason ran down our driveway into the street, and one of our neighbours was already making his way down there. The two boys (that's really what they were) weren't hurt, which I still can't believe. The car was old and had no airbags. And see the tree by the car? When it hit the guardrail, the car uprooted this small tree and dragged it into the road as well.

Our friends and neighbours on the other side, Jules and Andy, had also come outside when they heard the crash. We stood on our balconies and remarked to each other that those boys looked awfully young to be driving. And there were no P plates on their car. Note to my non-Aussie readers: You see, here in Australia, a driver has to have a provisional license before they get their full drivers license. There are two levels of the "P" license--a red P and a green P. Any driver with a provisional license has to display the P near their license plates, on the front and the back of the car.

It takes a couple years to get your full license, and looking at these boys--we knew there was no way they were old enough to have it yet. Jason walked back up our driveway to get a broom--there was a lot of broken glass in the road that needed to be swept up. When he came up, he told us what we'd already been wondering about. The driver was only 16, had no license at all, and the car was unregistered and uninsured. Yowza.

The passenger told Jason that this wasn't the first time the driver had taken the car out, and that the car belonged to his dad. He seemed to think that the dad was aware the kid drove it from time to time.

Yeah. Well, I don't think he'll be driving that anymore. Okay, so the driver calls his dad. We could hear him on the phone right below us. Before he called dad, he was full of bravado, swearing and spitting on the ground. But when he got on the phone, I could hear his voice breaking. See that silver car up there in the first photo? That's his dad. That car pulled up and stopped, and for quite awhile no one got out. "Who do you think that is?" I asked Andy. "I think it must be the dad," he said. "But why isn't he getting out of the car?" Andy said, "If it was me, and that was my kid, I think I'd need a barrier between us for a little while."

Eventually the dad got out and looked at the car. He talked to his kid, but not much. The next question in my mind was, is someone going to call the police? Our neighbour--the one that was down there sweeping up the glass, was acquainted with the driver's family. I think he intended to just talk to the dad.

But someone called the cops--we later found out it was someone on a neighboring street who heard the crash. Man, when that cop car pulled up, I can only imagine what that kid and his dad must've thought. It's one thing to drive recklessly and total a car. But to drive recklessly and total a car when you have no license and your car is unregistered and uninsured? That is a world of hurt, right there.

There they are, talking to the two kids. Dad got back in the car for that part.

It's funny how becoming a parent changes your perspective. Along with shaking my head over the accident and how boneheaded those kids were, I also couldn't help but think, Geez. What's to stop my kids from doing the same thing one day? I mean, no parent brings their newbown home from the hospital and goes, "Right! When this baby's a teenager, he is going to make a total dumbass decision, endangering himself and others! Let's get right on that!" So, when Ava and Nate were done with rest time, I marched them out onto the balcony. "The boy who drove that car did a very dangerous and careless thing," I told them. "He's very lucky he didn't get hurt. He thought he could handle that car and drive fast, but he couldn't. I want you to remember this--one day you'll be driving a car and you'll need to be so careful." Ha! Jason was like, "Do you think they'll even remember that?" They won't be driving for another ten years, but I couldn't help trying to turn it into a teachable moment. They were like, "Uhh, okay Mom." But I felt better.

So, that was our Saturday afternoon! Never a dull moment, here in the 'hood. Hope you are well, and accident-free.

Light it up, baby!

2011-06-05T14:42:00.003+10:00

Look at those two crazy kids. Ah, to be young and in love.

Today is our 12th anniversary. I can remember lots of things, of course, about our wedding day. I remember how my bouquet weighed like 25 lbs, and that Jason had to help me hold it at the altar. I remember how our "getaway car" stalled right after we left the reception, and Jason had to help the driver push it to our B&B. I remember how pretty much all of our favorite people in the whole world were in one place for about 48 hours. And most of all, I remember being so thrilled to be getting married to Jason. He is a catch-and-a-half, seriously.

I know what you're thinking--"But Amy, you don't look old enough to be married for 12 years!" Oh, wow, thank you. You're so kind. And totally right, of course.

We had our church service today and then had lunch with an engaged couple to begin their pre-marital counselling. (That's appropriate, isn't it?) Soon, we'll head into the city for the evening. There's a light festival on called Vivid Sydney that we're gonna go check out. Look at this:

There's several different light displays around town, and something with fireballs. I thought that was pretty sweet of them to do all that for our anniversary. Should be fun!

How's your weekend been? Next time I'll tell you about how some teenage boys caused quite a ruckus in our 'hood yesterday. They really are crazy kids.

Does this feel like graduation? It totally does. Will you sign my yearbook?

2011-05-31T22:33:00.007+10:00

Oh, you guys. You guys, you guys, you guys. Let me just look at you for a minute. You look really good. Did you change your hair?

It just seems like, oh, 3 weeks ago that I decided to celebrate my 300th post by blogging everyday for the rest of May, and now here we are. We've shared so much together, haven't we? I don't know about you, but I really feel like these few weeks have been a turning point in our relationship. Do you feel that? I do.

You complete me.

I thought I'd take this opportunity to link back to some of my most memorable posts from the ol' archives. Seeing as how I've never been organized enough to make them easily searchable, you may have missed a few.

1. Read the epic tale of a major passport mishap/parenting fail. There's planes! Trains! Tears! The US Consulate! Parts One and Two, in which I sweated, cursed under my breath, and tried not to pee my pants.

2. I'm not sure if he meant to, but Stephen Fry made me cry. Sometimes you miss things from home without even knowing you miss them. Ya know?

3. I made Grace wear a maxi pad. I like to think it's an example of my ingenuity.

4. This one time, my friend and her little boy thought it'd be fun to bring their baby Bluetongued Lizard for a visit. I guess the lizard really liked my house. And boy, can those things disappear quickly! I was not amused. Read Parts One and Two, and how the day was saved.

5. Our Grace is born! I'm sure she was already plotting her eventual coup at this stage.

6. My sister calls me to tell me she's been diagnosed with breast cancer.

7. Jason has to get all Jack Bauer when I made him split his toe open. I am the best wife ever.

8. I consider living in a vat of hand sanitizer when we all get conjunctivitis. I also talk about boobs, though--so everybody wins!

9. I lose a bet with my dad. I have to cluck like a chicken. That's really all I can say, except that it's so lovely to have supportive parents.

10. My name is Amy, and I wink/accidentally flirt with strangers.

11. A little story about what a stabby mess I was when we were getting ready to move here. It has rainbows! And ponies! (But not really ponies.)

So there you have it. That should keep you busy for awhile. For real though, thanks for reading! I love talking to y'all, thanks for indulging me.

Back soon!

xoxox

Time to up my game

2011-05-30T22:06:00.003+10:00

Grace will be 2 in two weeks--yikes! That's the funny thing about kids...when you feed them and stuff, they tend to grow. Profound, isn't it? I have lots of other insights to offer; would you be interested in my book on parenting? It's called: Swimming Lessons Count as a Bath (And Other Parental Shortcuts).

Thing is, she's getting smarter too. And throughout the day, I find myself getting played a little bit. If I'm putting her to bed, she waits till we read our 3 books then right at the last minute, calls for daddy to come and do the honors. She will go and stand in the hallway and just yell his name till he comes. Of course, if it's Jason that does the jammification process and reads books, then she's wanting me.

Oh gosh, speaking of--I gotta tell y'all what happened yesterday. We got home from church and I went straight into her room to put her down for a nap. We had something on in the afternoon so I was trying to get her down in a hurry. Of course she wanted Jason to come do it.

I called for Jason to come--he'd gone up to our bedroom to change clothes. He came to Grace's room with no shirt on. When he walked in, she just stared at him and started saying, "Uh-oh. Uh-oh. Uh-oh." (This is what all dudes hope the ladies will say, right guys?) I mean, she was really bothered that he didn't have his shirt on--she just stared at him. I started doing that silent-laughter-shoulder-shaking thing. I tried to hand her to Jason, but she clung to me. She was just not having this whole shirtless thing. Good news, though--now every time Jason changes clothes now, I can just go, "Uh-oh! Uh-oh!"

Anyway, I've realized that I've been a little more lax with Grace, as far as setting boundaries and discipline goes. We are working on teaching her to say "please" and not rewarding her for tantruming. But I let a lot more things go than I used to. I guess I just find it so funny when she points at Nate and screams for him to vacate the rocking chair. (He does it right away, whereas he never would for Ava.) Or when she walks up to me and silently holds her hand out for me to give her my partially-eaten apple, certain that she will be obeyed. Or when she tells one of us off--in total gibberish language, but her tone! You just know that she is ripping you to shreds, if you could only understand it.

She is a fuzzy, pink, attack bear. They're the most dangerous kind.

The truth is, it makes me laugh. (Well, when I'm not frustrated already.) She is like this tiny, blonde dictator with light-up sneakers. The chutzpah! She has no doubt of her place in the universe and she will brook no opposition. But I know, I know. What's cute at 2 is utterly obnoxious at 4. This ain't my first rodeo. So, I know we have to start working on some of these behaviors.

Before we're all huddling under the kitchen table while she trashes the joint.

Need to work on our Theology. Or Geography. Theography?

2011-05-29T18:57:00.004+10:00

On the way to church early this morning, the kids were both looking through their Bibles. We bought them both new Bibles a few weeks ago--their first "nicer" ones. Nate can't read his on his own yet, so he likes to look at the maps in the back.

"Dad?" he called out from the back of the car. "Did you know that we were the second people in Australia?" "We were?" Jason asked. I thought, Hmmm, maybe they're already teaching him about the Aboriginal people at school. "Yeah," Nate said. "The first were the Israelites."

And being the responsible, quick-to-educate parents that we are, (and pastors, to boot) we did what came naturally.

"Really, buddy? That's interesting."

Sometimes, you just gotta let things go.

A quiet kind of day

2011-05-28T22:05:00.004+10:00

Today was a much-needed lazy day. There were no birthday parties to attend, no meetings to go to, no events to organize. I slept until 8:30 (!), and Jason got up with the kids. (Yes, I'm sorry to say that 8:30 way counts as sleeping in.) Then, we took the kids to the park and enjoyed a glorious winter(ish) day.
It doesn't matter the weather, though... the kids will always want iceblocks no matter how cold it is. I think it's like a constant of the universe. Like, is the earth still rotating on its axis? Are we still carbon-based lifeforms? Does mankind still possess the power to freeze flavoured sugar water, and place said frozen water on a stick? Then, yes. I would like one of those frozen sticks, please.

Then, we came home and tried to do as little as possible. The kids had their afternoon rest time, and when that was over, Jason and I did that thing we do when neither of us feels like getting up--we traded off parenting. You get up to get juice this time, I'll make sandwiches next time. You help build the Lego tower this time, I'll change the diaper next time. Wanna watch another DVD, guys?

You get the idea. I read Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey on my phone and Jason watched The Seven Samurai until Grace insisted on something more age-appropriate. She's picky like that. Actually, we couldn't blame her. I know that movie is supposed to be a classic, but we both found it to be a major snooze-fest. Just being honest.

Then, we grilled steaks for dinner and our neighbors came over to eat with us. They agreed that I'm definitely more easygoing. Like, way. (Right, guys? That's what we decided, right?)

Now, I'm watching a live streaming video of a friend's wedding in Dublin. Ain't that fancy? All in all, a lovely day.

Hope yours is nice too! Don't over-exert yourself, okay? You deserve a break.

Very Sporty

2011-05-27T21:44:00.005+10:00

I've never been good at sports. I always seem to get hit in the head with the ball--even if I'm not actually playing the game. Standing around, watching friends play beach volleyball, for example, it's only a matter of time before an errant serve whacks me in the side of the head.

As a kid, I gave it a go. I played church softball. (For my Aussie and/or non-American readers, a lot of churches in the States have sports leagues and play other churches in softball, basketball, whatever.) I was never any good at softball. I played cause that's just what you did, but I was always uncomfortable and nervous I'd do something catastrophic, and generally glad when my turn at bat was over. I only played for a couple of years, before embracing my non-sportiness. But not before I got a trophy! My very own award, at the end-of-the-year church softball banquet. For "Most Christian Attitude". Bless them for coming up with an award to give me, but even as an 11 year old, I knew it was kind of bogus. Still, it was nice to have a trophy.

Imagine my surprise when I ended up dating and eventually marrying a natural athlete. Jason grew up playing nearly every sport offered in Orange County, and eventually chose to focus on diving. I really saw my lack of athleticism as a flaw, at that time it was something that I was kind of embarrassed about. So, when I started to realize that I, like, LIKED Jason, I told myself he would never be interested in me because he was such an athlete and I was clearly not. Of course, I was 18 and more than a little silly. Now, of course, our differences there are a non-issue. He doesn't expect me to want to play tennis or whatever with him, and I enjoy having a husband who can do back flips on command. (This is awesome at parties.)

Ava and Nate are at the age now that they are starting to try out different sports. We are doing it gradually--they're pretty little and we are not quite ready to have our lives overtaken by practices, games, and more practices. They both are in swimming lessons, which here in Australia, doesn't even really count. Pretty much every kid is in swimming, all year round! Nate has started playing soccer this year, and both kids are taking gymnastics on Friday afternoons. The YMCA runs a program out of our local high school, and they are having lots of fun on the trampoline and the balance beam, and learning to hang from the uneven bars.

Of course, when your kids start to play sports, that's when you see the different philosophies emerge from Mom and Dad. You might guess that I'm pretty chill about the whole thing. Do you want to do this, are you having fun, just try your best--that's kind of my deal. Jason would agree, but he's also: push through the pain, don't cry, practice more, don't stop running just cause your side hurts, etc. (Actually that's the advice he has to give me, not so much the kids!)

Tonight, I was getting the kids into their PJ's, and asking them how gymnastics went this afternoon. Ava stuck her foot in the air. "See this big toe?" "Uh, yeah," I said. "I was running toward the mini-trampoline to do my star jumps and my toe hit the metal bar on the side. I cried," she said. "Ouch!" I said, "I bet that hurt."

Nate then jumped in the conversation. He showed us where he'd fallen and scraped his elbow. "I laid on the ground for a minute," he said, pausing for effect, "And then I just got up and kept going. See?" he said, now looking at Ava to lecture her, "It's okay if you feel tears, but you just gotta keep them from coming out."

I'm sure Jason would've high-fived him if he'd been in the room to hear that statement! Of course, me being me, I said, "Well, it's okay if you cry sometimes!" I betcha if Jason had heard me say that, I would've totally gotten the Stinkeye.

This is probably why one of us got a Most Christian Attitude trophy and one of us got a 4 year full tuition athletic scholarship.

As if you needed more convincing that I am a freak

2011-05-26T22:18:00.003+10:00

Tonight when I got home I watched a little of the Oprah show finale. Actually, I guess it's the second to last show? The last last one is tomorrow night. I haven't watched Oprah consistently in years, really. But for a lot of years, it was a mainstay of my week. ("You get a car! You get a car! You! You!") I'm not as big an Oprah-ite as a lot of people, but some of her truisms still come to mind for me. "You teach people how to treat you" is one of the big ones.

Anyway, while watching tonight I remembered again how vaguely uncomfortable I get while watching "live" TV. Are you like this at all? It just feels too uncertain, and I worry that someone will make a mistake or say something they shouldn't or that someone will embarrass themselves. This year, I tried to watch the Academy Awards but I had to change the channel cause I felt so sorry for Anne Hathaway. She was trying so hard! And I just was worried that it was falling flat.

I have a hard time watching talk shows where viewers call in, too. I would get so embarrassed for people sometimes. Why? I have no idea, but I'd beg to change the channel. There's a popular drive time radio show here where the hosts sometimes prank call random people. They're not nasty about it or anything, but I always have to switch the station when they do it. Also, those candid camera type prank shows. Oh gosh, those are agony to watch for me. I can't stand watching someone being pranked--I literally have left the room before, it's painful to me. Not because I don't see the humor in it. I think it's that someone is being made to be vulnerable, or exposed in a way, and I feel like I should look away--just as much as if they'd ripped the seat of their pants.

Tonight I was sort of laughing to myself though, cause why would watching the Oprah finale make me nervous? All those people up there have been on camera most of their lives. There is an army of staff and professionals who have planned that show, literally to the second. I probably don't need to worry about how they're gonna do.

But I still did. A bit.

I need to chill out a little, don't I?

Say I'm More Relaxed or I Will Punch You in the Face

2011-05-25T22:34:00.006+10:00

Tonight Jason and I got to go out to dinner and a movie. We have some friends staying with us, who've just relocated to Sydney, and they agreed to babysit for us so we could go out. Woohoo!

Over dinner, Jason was telling me about a conversation he had recently with a mom from the school. He ran into her at our local coffee shop, made polite chit-chat, and she ended up telling him a little about how her kids were coping with her recent divorce. (Jason just seems to be the kind of person that everyone wants to talk to. He's all pastor-y.) We don't know them very well, but Ava is in the same class as this couple's little girl. We were talking about how difficult the adjustment must be for all of them, and how both the husband and wife have very strong, dominant personalities. Really, we weren't talking so much about this couple in particular, but about the anatomies of different kinds of marriages. It always makes me think of what my dad used to tell us, "The only people who know what really goes on in a marriage are the two people in it."

I told Jason, "You know, I think we have it easier sometimes because we both happen to be pretty easygoing people. Temperament makes a big difference." And he goes, "Well yeah, one of us is easygoing." I stopped, my fork of delicious lamb massaman curry halfway to my mouth. "Surely, you're talking about me."

"Hmmm, I'm pretty sure I'm more easygoing than you are," he said, smiling sweetly. (He loves to bait me like this. Probably because it always works.) "Oh sure, maybe," I said, "Until it's something you have a strong opinion about. Then you bring the hammer of your iron will to bear." (Okay, I probably didn't say exactly that. My mouth was full of this beautiful, tender lamb shank, after all. But that's what I would've said if I hadn't been chewing.)

Then I reminded him of what country we are currently living in, and how that was a decision driven by him. (Yes, yes, I love it here, but still.) And of how many times he'd rearranged our living room furniture without asking me first. He said, "Well, okay, maybe 10% of the time, I push my way through. But the other 90%? It's all you."

Well, I called BS on that, I'll tell you right now. Then we had a discussion of terms--yes, I looked up the official definition of "easygoing" on my phone, we discussed the difference between easygoing as a temperament versus a moral position. "Placid" was thrown out as an alternative descriptor, and promptly abandoned.

Then he decided to show how easily annoyed (read: non-easygoing) I can be. He started drumming his fingers repeatedly on the table. Then he picked up the water carafe and rested it on top of the little tealite holder. "Stop that!" I said, looking around. "Oh! Is this bothering you?" he said, lifting it and putting it back, again and again.

It was totally bothering me, but that kind of business would bug anyone!

Do other couples flirt like this?

I then decided it was time to take this to a jury of our peers. Facebook, duh! As we waited in line to buy our movie tickets, I asked my FB friends to help us settle our debate. Who was more easygoing: Jason or I? Well, the initial feedback was underwhelming, to be sure. My friend Jules pointed out that if either of us were easygoing, would we have posted the question? I replied that all of my friends were PANSIES and needed to man up and answer.

As of now, Jason has slightly more votes than me, but I have been designated as "sweeter". Someone pointed out that easygoing people wouldn't yell PANSIES at their friends, but I don't think that's a pertinent observation, do you?

Anyway, it was a lovely evening. And when Jason started to complain about our seats in the theatre and said maybe we should move, I pointed out that really, I'll sit anywhere. Any seat in the whole place is perfectly fine by me. Here I'll just stand here in the aisle. I don't mind.

Winning!

The Brain is weird and/or amazing. Probably mostly weird.

2011-05-24T22:08:00.005+10:00

Remember how I was telling y'all about my love for MacGyver the other day? (It will never die, by the way. I don't care what anyone says. #Mac4Lyf)

Anyway, I've been thinking about how certain movies or TV shows really make an impression on you, and kinda "stick" with you. Books do this too of course. But because of the visual aspect, for me, I'll think of certain shows or scenes from different movies often. Usually, they're funny.

Here's one that you may or may not remember. Anytime I hear the country Yemen mentioned I always think of this one Friends episode. You know the one? Where Chandler can't bear to break up with this annoying girl, so he tells her his work has transferred him to Yemen. And she is so sad and wants to maintain a long distance relationship, so he has to go through with the whole charade. It's hilarious the lengths he goes to in order not to have to breakup with her. He prepares, he goes to the airport, he goes to the gate--and she still won't leave. So, he picks up his bag and says in this desperate voice, "I'm goin' to Yemen!" And goes and gets on the plane. Anytime anyone says the word Yemen, Jason and I look at each other and smile, cause we're both thinking of that episode. I think of it, too, when I'm going to stupid lengths to avoid an uncomfortable situation. Going to Yemen!

(You can watch it here if you wanna. It's pretty funny.)

But the last few days, with all this end-of-the-world talk, I keep thinking of this one particular episode of The Twilight Zone. Of course, that series was before my time, but it used to come on late at night when I was a kid and teenager, and my sister and I would often stay up and watch it. They never really scared me, but they always left an impression. The one I've been thinking of is this one that starred Burgess Meredith. It's called Time Enough at Last.

Basically, Meredith plays this shy, bookwormish bank teller who is henpecked by his wife, belittled by his boss, and is generally pretty miserable. He loves to read, and is absorbed in books, a habit that gets him in constant trouble at work and home.

So, one day, he goes for his lunch break in the bank's vault. And while he is down there, reading in peace, there's a thundering explosion above. It knocks him out at first, but when he comes to he leaves the vault. He comes up, realizes there's been some kind of nuclear explosion and that everyone is dead but him. He wanders around the town, in disbelief. He gets to the point where he wants to kill himself, but then he sees the ruins of the public library in the distance. Here are stacks and piles of books, all in good condition, all readable. Finally, he has time to read all he could ever want, with no one to bother him. He runs over to the dusty steps of the ruined library and sits down. He picks up a book. He looks down to open the book, and his thick glasses fall off his face and break on the pavement.

Without his glasses, he is basically blind. The episode ends with him weeping on the steps of the library, knowing that he's alone now, with all the time in the world and all these books around him and he can't read a single one.

I don't know how old I was when I first saw that episode...maybe 12? But it made such an impression on me. I was just so sad for this character--unaccountably sad, really--I felt his despair and hopelessness. I was totally drawn into this old black and white, 30 minute TV show with its sorta cheesy plot and script. I can remember sitting in our living room at home and feeling such a sense of loss for him. I think it's the whole idea of your dream being right in your reach, and then knowing you've lost it. And for me, at that young age, to think about what it might be like to be really, really alone...sheesh, that was a lot for me to take in.

Dude, I don't know, but it's stayed with me, and this week I've thought of that episode several times. The mind is a funny thing, isn't it? I don't even know why I'm writing about it, except that I'm blogging everyday this month and needed to write something! But seriously, it interests me; the little pieces of culture--books, TV, songs, jokes, history--that provide the associations we make with what happens to us and around us.

What are your "landmark" shows, books, movies? The ones that regularly are recalled to your memory? Some more of mine involve: Monty Python movies, Little House on the Prairie books, Star Trek, Seinfeld, and stories my dad would tell us about when he was a little boy. There's this one about a dismembered big toe buried in the barn...but enough about me.

What about you?

My friend, YOU are the salad spinner. Go, and be that.

2011-05-23T22:15:00.004+10:00

Tonight, we hosted our leadership team here for dinner and a meeting after. My friend Sarah was helping me finish all the dinner preparations, and was making the salad. As she was washing the lettuce, she asked if we had a salad spinner. You know, those thingies. It's like a colander inside a bowl, and you crank the handle and it spin dries the lettuce?

I don't have one. It makes me feel like less of a woman.

Not really. But it IS one of those things that I never think about buying until I need one and don't have it. And then I'm like, "Dang it! How will I ever get this lettuce to dry?" Other things in this category for me at the moment: new dental floss, clothespins, and conditioner. People should really start making lists of things they need from the store, so that when they go, they can just check the list. Why doesn't anyone ever do that?

My life is very difficult and painful at times.

But then Sarah changed my life. And now I'm about to change yours.

She said that she heard somewhere that if you put your washed lettuce inside a clean pillowcase, and then swung the pillowcase around, that it would have the same effect as a salad spinner. "Seriously?" I asked. Sarah hadn't ever tried it before, so she decided to give it a go.

And y'all, it WORKED. So AWESOMELY. And all you do is just what I wrote before: wash your lettuce, put it inside a clean pillowcase, step outside if possible (this is kinda important unless you want a floor sprayed with lettuce water) and swing your arm around in circles. If you knew about this, why hadn't you told me?

Sarah saved our salad and saved the day! Do you think this is how pioneer women used to dry their lettuce? I mean, before salad spinners were invented and all? Those prairie women had to be resourceful, you know. And now, I feel so much closer to them. Me and Ma Ingalls, joined across the centuries.

You may not feel like I've just changed your life, but I really have. It may just take a day or two to sink in.

Apocalypse? There's an App for That.

2011-05-22T22:29:00.004+10:00

Last night, at about 8:30 I got a text from my Dad. This automatically made me uneasy, as I knew it was only 6:30 in the morning where they are. The text read, "Are y'all still there? Earthquakes?"

Now, given the earthquakes and other natural disasters in this part of the world lately, I automatically thought there'd been another one somewhere. I started to worry--we hadn't been watching TV last night, and our internet was down. "Uh...yeah," I replied, "You know more than me. Where?? Our Internet is down."

"Associated with the rapture. You didn't go?"

(I'd forgotten that one dude predicted the world would end on May 21st. See, I don't tend to get alarmed about these predictions, especially cause Jesus was all,"Look guys, no one knows the date but God! Don't listen to those schmucks!" This is obviously my loose translation.)

Then I really did laugh out loud. "Nope, def still here!" I said. Dad replied, "Guess that guy got it wrong again." "Yeah I guess so. Red-faced for sure!"

Jason and I were chuckling about it last night when he read me this brief article from Gizmodo: An iPhone App for the Post-Rapture Barter Economy. It's accompanied by a short video. It's an app called Barto, which allows users to upload descriptions of items, skills or services that they'd like to barter. Of course, it's a legit app, kind of a Craigslist alternative, and the whole apocalyptic spin is just from Gizmodo, I think. But we thought it was funny--somehow checking your iPhone for deals on pitchforks or canned goods doesn't seem to fit with the traditional post-apocalyptic genre.

But it's good to know that people are thinking ahead! Now what I wanna know: will there be iPhones in heaven? Cause if there ain't, I don't think I can convince Jason to come with me.

Budding Philanthropist

2011-05-21T20:44:00.000+10:00

The other day, Jason was driving somewhere with Ava and Nate in the car. Somehow, the conversation turned to helping others, and the children that we sponsor through Compassion International. Jason told me later that he told the kids about what it means to sponsor a child, about how there are many children in the world who desperately need it.

(He's relaying this to me tonight, and I'm thinking, "Wow, he goes deep with the kids." I just usually let them play games on my phone, or I say, "Hey! Let's all play the Quiet Game!")

Then, Jase told me he mentioned how it would be great if we could sponsor more children, and that maybe the kids could chip in some of their allowance.

"Yeah, that's a good idea!" Ava replied. Nate wasn't so sure. Jason talked some more about how sometimes it's hard to give to a need when it isn't right in front of you, or you don't know the person, etc.

Nate listens to all this, and goes, "No that's not it. I just wanna get a Nintendo DS."

Oh. Okay, then. At least he's honest, right?

Happy Thoughts so I Don't Get Stabby

2011-05-20T22:39:00.010+10:00

This post is brought to you courtesy of two things: one, my post-everyday-in-May-o-rama! (Yay!) And two, I am trying to distract myself from the stabby thoughts I am having about the neighbors behind us and their loud, bass-thumping party. It's not the first time. You can read here about the letter I'd like to write to the shrieking girls over there. They need guidance! You guys, I am having, um, uncharitable thoughts. So I decided to think about happy things. Cool?

For Nate's "news" the other day, he wanted to take in some of his baby pictures on a USB stick to show the class. His teacher can put it onto the smartboard (which looks like a whiteboard, but is so, so much more!). These kids and their Modern Conveniences. In my day, we took a dirt clod in for show-and-tell and that was good enough!

Look at my little, slightly jaundiced dude.

Look at little 2 yr old Ava--she and Grace could be sisters. Oh, wait.

Looking at those pictures, I can't believe how much has happened over the last 6-ish years. When Nate was born, we'd only been in Australia for 3 months. He was born prematurely, as I mentioned here, and when these pics were taken I can remember just feeling so relieved and thankful that everything had worked out--that he was healthy, and that we were all okay.

That time is a blur in so many ways. We were settling into life and ministry here, I was still scared to drive on the "wrong" side of the road, we were learning all the stuff you have to learn to set up life in a new country. Learning it on the fly, really--which unfortunately seems to be a theme with us.

But really, I'm amazed when I think how our little family has grown.

(Oh man, I just realized this could sound like a "We're pregnant!" post. We are not pregnant. Mom? I promise. Okay? Alright, anyway.)

In lots of ways, I still feel like we're adjusting to life here--it will always feel "different" in some respects, I imagine. And although we think we'll end up back in the US one day (Mom? We do!), we are happy with our lives here. It's a great place to be, and we feel blessed. Heck, we are blessed. There's a Psalm that kind of expresses that sentiment--it says, "The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places." That's pretty much how we feel.

(Now, I am going to try to go to bed, so that laser-like anger rays don't shoot from my eyes and burn a hole in the back fence.)

Real quick-like

2011-05-19T22:40:00.003+10:00

Just a quick note before I'm off to bed...Grace was out of sorts all day today and has woken up crying 3 times already. So, who knows what the night may hold? Best to sleep while you can!

I just needed to tell you this. We checked out a new playgroup today, since Grace was like, "I know I'm the third child and all, Mom, but throw me a bone, will ya? Take me somewhere developmentally appropriate!" And I was like, "What--playing with the vending machines while Ava and Nate are at swimming lessons isn't enough for you? What about the time you got your hand stuck in the door flap thingy?" And she was all, "See? That's pathetic."

So my friend Jules and I went to playgroup this morning, and met a bunch of nice girls and their kids. And here's the thing I wanted to tell you: one of the little boys there was named Odin.

Odin? Major god in Norse mythology, ruler of Asgard? I think he's like the Nordic equivalent of Zeus, right? Anyway, it struck me as I met this little guy today that I think I've heard of other people naming their boys that. Is it becoming a thing? Why am I always the last to find out?

The quick, totally non-comprehensive research I did on the Internets gives me the idea that it's simply thought of as a quirky, uncommon sounding name. I dunno...I just don't think I could have a little Odin running around. It just makes me think of Viking ships and pillaging. And crusty old warriors. But that's just me...we tend toward the simpler, less creative names, I guess.

So what other naming trends am I missing out on? Is there a goddess of sleep and non-cheekiness? Maybe that's who we should've named Grace after.

Somewhat Constrained

2011-05-18T21:52:00.006+10:00

You guys, I kept thinking about that cupcake all day today. Is that sad? Maybe a little. It is perhaps a little sad. But I didn't go back to get one because, frankly, the thought of taking Grace back to the mall in the midst of the mid-morning rush was too much for me. Plus, she'd have just eaten most of it anyway. Somehow, none of our three kids have been the type to sit quietly in their strollers and watch the world go by. They have all been little Houdinis, figuring out ways to slip out of the restraints, or at least being loudly miserable until we release them. At this point, I would like to go on the record and blame Jason's hyperactive DNA. He of the knee jiggling. He of the pen tapping and napkin fiddling. He of the candle wax peeling. The blame lies squarely at your door, sir!

So, anyway, no cupcake today. I think I should have to run a Grace-gauntlet to get to any high calorie or fatty food...I bet the weight would just come right off! She can be my healthy lifestyle coach. Instead we stayed home and Grace dumped a massive container of yogurt on the floor.

The bright side, though, is that she still got to eat a little, as she managed to scoop some up as I was getting the paper towels. Then, while I was down there I decided to do a little mop job with the baby wipes. This is a totally legitimate cleaning method, did you realize? So, not only did Grace get her morning snack, I cleaned a small section of the kitchen floor. Know what that's called? Multi-tasking. Don't be intimidated, I wasn't always this on top of things.

Then we went to the school to watch Ava run in the Cross Country "Fun Run".
Now, Ava is many things, but she is not really a runner. She is happy to jog/walk along near the back of the pack. And that is so fine with me. She doesn't stress about not placing in the race, she walks until she sees me, jogs by with a big smile, then starts walking again. Ha! A girl after my own heart.

Speaking of exercise, I had to sorta take it easy today, cause last night I got my first Zumba-related injury. A real sports injury, y'all! And I got one! This is a first! I strained some tendon or something in my foot. I'm thinking it either happened during that new J.Lo song where you have to "back it up like a Tonka truck" or when Ricky Martin tells us that she makes him live a crazy life, but she takes away his pain? I'm really not sure. But my foot's a bit sore today, and I don't think my Uggs provided adequate support.

Don't worry though, I'll be fine! Maybe I'll limp to the mall tomorrow and fortify myself with a cupcake. Or Grace and I can scoop more food off the floor. That second option might be easier.

Ways to kill an hour when you're 2.

2011-05-17T22:13:00.010+10:00

Join me as I celebrate my 300th post by blogging everyday for the rest of May! A plan so crazy, it just might work!

This morning, Jason dropped Ava and Nate at school, since I was still in my bathrobe. As the temperature has dropped, it's been harder and harder to take it off in the morning. I figure I'm one step away from a Snuggie, heaven forbid. Grace was feeling clingy this morning, and wouldn't let me leave her sight. As we sat on the couch and watched Roary the Racing Car, I thought I should really do something special with her today. Bless her, Grace usually just tags along with me on errands or to her older siblings' activities. We go to the park often throughout the week, but that's about it. So I decided to take her to the Preschool Storytime at our local library. When Ava was Grace's age, I would go nearly every week, lugging an infant Nate in his car seat and trying to get there in time for her to snag a coveted floor pillow to sit on. But Grace hasn't been to storytime yet. I decided to force myself out of my jammies and make it happen.

The library parking was full, so we parked down the street and walked two blocks to the library. I didn't bring the stroller, cause I plan our outings really, really well. We sat near the front for storytime, but Grace was too uncertain to go sit on the blankets with the other kids. So was it an enriching, mentally stimulating time for her? Well...if you count her trying to take the fire extinguisher off the wall and repeatedly lifting a panel in the floor that covered various electrical outlets...maybe. But the story, the songs, the actions? Yeah, she lasted about ten minutes and then got mad at me when I wouldn't let her keep opening and slamming the panel in the floor while the nice lady read the story. We were outta there.

I let her wander around the children's section. She liked holding the books and staring down the other kids.

She wouldn't let me read to her, either. She just held the book and wandered around. Then, hey--this is a good time to poop, don't you think?

Please disperse. There is nothing to see here. I repeat: there is nothing to see here. Kindly return to your library-related recreational activities.

Of course, then I was obliged to pry the book from her hands and take her to the bathroom. Screaming all the way, but also reaching for another fire extinguisher as we rushed by. After that, we returned to the books for awhile, but then I was ready to go. I employed a sure-fire tactic to get her peacefully off the premises. "Gracie," I whispered, "Wanna go get a cupcake?"

"Cupcake!" she cried, dropping the book she'd picked back up. We walked across the street to the mall and I bought a cupcake that I thought I'd halve for us to share. Ha!

I did sneak a bite or two, but she yelled at me for doing so. Like the Masai see themselves as the spiritual owners of all cattle, Grace takes dominion over all cupcakes and related pastries. See the look she's giving me? In your face, Mom!Then, knowing that the sugar rush was approaching like a thunderstorm, I did my best to hustle us out of the mall for the walk back to the car. But as Shakespeare wrote, "The course of taking a toddler anywhere never did run smooth." After climbing on the Bob the Builder tractor, looking at the sushi bar, sitting in the Big Red Car, riding on my shoulders, crossing a busy intersection and walking two blocks, we made it to the car. Sweet Lord, what a relief.

Then, there's just the minor matter of grabbing Grace from the front of the car, where she likes to turn on the hazard lights, the seat warmers, twist the radio dials and lift the armrests, and wrestling her into her car seat.

Now, that wasn't so bad, was it? Not exactly the learning experience I'd hoped for but I guess Grace did learn that fire extinguishers are awesome and that if you disrupt storytime, then poop, then scream about getting changed, you get a cupcake!

I am nailing this, you guys!

Maybe I'm reading too much into this

2011-05-16T22:30:00.003+10:00

Most of the Borders bookstores here are closing down. This is sad to us, as Borders was always one of our go-to date night spots. We'd each pick out our books or magazines, go sit in the cafe and read. Usually we wouldn't even talk to each other. According to the Handbook, that still counts as a date, though. We sit together and Jason pays for my drink. What can I say, we like to party.

As often as we went to Borders, though, we rarely bought a book there. They're just too darn expensive here. It's very hard for me to bring myself to pay $25-$35 for a paperback book, when I know that it could be gotten for less elsewhere. I guess lots of others felt the same, and that's why they're closing. Last Wednesday, we went on a date to see Source Code, and beforehand took a walk through Borders. Everything in the store is at least 50% off now, and they're even selling off all the tables, chairs, bookcases, etc.

The books were pretty well picked over by this point, but we had fun looking around. I was tempted to buy Russell Brand's autobiography. Why? I really have no idea. It was deeply discounted, though, and that spoke to me.

We spent the most time looking at all the non-book items that they were trying to get rid of. All the furniture, office supplies, chairs, fixtures that go into running a business. They were even selling file folders and binders! The whole experience was a little melancholy, to tell you the truth. Sort of like when you walk through an estate sale of someone who has died--you think of all the activity that used to happen here, all the hopes and plans, about things coming to an end.

Now, anyone who knows me will tell you that this is totally in my nature, but I started to feel a little guilty. Like, if I'd done my part and actually bought something there more often, Borders wouldn't have to be hocking their listening station headphones. I started to feel personally responsible, in a way. I sighed as I put my weight on a nice round table, to see if it wobbled. Does it really have to end like this?If there'd been an employee or manager around, I would've apologized for my lack of customer loyalty. No really, it's too true. When I was a kid, my dad told me he would ground me if I said I was "sorry" one more time for something. And I'll give you one guess what I said in response.

But then, I snapped out of it when Jason and I saw a fog machine on sale. A fog machine! So cool! So many things to do with a fog machine! Like, create fog! We could hold our own middle school dances! Ava and Nate would be catapulted to popularity! Our church services could be all edgy and mysterious and, well, foggy. We stood there for awhile and tried to find a legitimate reason--any--that we could use to buy it.

We didn't really find one, and so we left it there. Bad consumers, once again! I wonder why Borders needed a fog machine to begin with. Maybe we should go back and get it. Do you think we should go back and get it? Maybe it would lift their spirits some? Like, hey, our multimillion dollar business is failing and we all have to go find new jobs but look--some chick just bought the fog machine!

Do you make sympathy purchases?

Under the Influence

2011-05-15T21:06:00.003+10:00

Jason's had a cold the last few days, which has left him with a raspy throat. Sundays are big days for us, obvs, so he took some cold medicine this morning so that he could get through our morning service and also a workshop we had later in the afternoon.

This morning, I had to leave for church extra early, so Jason brought the kids a bit later. As he was rushing down the stairs, carrying Grace, he turned his ankle pretty badly. So by the time he got to church, he was limping. He took some pain medication cause it was really hurting.

It reminds me of the time I led worship while hopped up on some serious decongestant. It was an interesting service. I might've told everyone I was feeling "loopy" and then attempted a toe touch at the end. However, this cannot be verified. Not my most professional moment, but it was memorable!

Anyway, despite his throbbing ankle and scratchy throat Jason preached a great sermon. But I have to tell you that there was some evidence he was a little out of it. The most telling moment was when he told everyone that Jesus had compassion on and healed the leopards.

(Instead of lepers, you know.)

Can I please get some props for not laughing out loud when he said that? I smiled, and my shoulders twitched involuntarily. But then I got it under control. No one else reacted, so I thought maybe they didn't notice. But after church, several of us were chatting and one of the guys goes, "Hey, did Jason say Jesus healed leopards?" We all cracked up--apparently quite a few of us noticed. Jason laughed when we told him and said he knew he'd done something "off" when he saw how I was looking at him. "I thought maybe my fly was down," he said. I assured him that I would say something if that had been the case.

I'm preaching next week...and you better believe I'm working the leopard joke into the message. I feel that it's my responsibility. Church humor, y'all! Catch the fever!

...But the fire is so delightful

2011-05-14T23:00:00.007+10:00

Well. My post-everyday-in-May was going so well! Until yesterday, when Blogger had major issues and no one could publish or comment at all. Sigh...such is life! And all the comments disappeared from my last post, too! So allow me to let you know that Rebecca and my dad (Camp Papa) both correctly guessed MacGyver's first name--Angus! Well done, guys! And Dad, you letting us know that you knew it was Angus cause that's what Mom calls you "sometimes"...is there a way to unread something? Maybe I need a new brain?

But moving on! This last week here in Sydney has been freezing! Autumn was going along quite nicely and then it was like all wintry up in here! It took us all by surprise. Wednesday, we ordered our firewood to be delivered. It seems that once we start using the fireplace, we don't stop till late August. Our fireplace is the main way (well, the only way) that we heat our kitchen and playroom. It has a fan that blows the hot air from the fire into the room. Building and maintaining the fire is usually Jason's job. Last winter, though, I had to get good at it while he and Ava were in Manila. I'd stare at the cold ashes and wish it were warmer in the room. However, I found that wishes and desperation do not conduct heat. So, I had to woman up and build the fire. Then, I'd beat my chest and howl into the whipping winter wind.

When we start using the fireplace again each year, the kids always ask to roast marshmallows. This year, we decided to do s'mores. Mmmmm, s'mores. Creamy, chocolatey, marshmallowy, crunchy goodness. I don't think s'mores are much of a thing here in Australia--at least, not with the folks I've talked with.

So, just in case you're reading this and you've never made a s'more, lemme fill you in. It's easy peasy! You need some kind of plain biscuit (ideally a graham cracker if you can find them), marshmallows, and milk chocolate. Roast the marshmallow, and have the biscuit with chocolate on top waiting. When the marshmallow is all hot, and almost burned on the outside, pop it off the stick and lay it on top of the chocolate. Sandwich it with a second cracker/biscuit and press down. Then your life will change and you can thank me later.

We invited some friends over, as well as some of the youth group from church. Graham crackers are pretty hard to find here, and sadly, there's no Hershey's chocolate, so I had to improvise.

Instead of graham crackers, I used digestive biscuits, which are kind or crumbly and I thought it might be an okay substitute. Also, the marshmallows here are a bit smaller than the ones we'd use at home, so we had to double up on those. The kids had fun roasting their marshmallows.(Sorry for the dark shot.) So, how did they taste? Hmmm, on the S'more Delectability Scale (SDS), which was of course sanctioned by the International Campfire Traditions Council (ICTC), I think they'd rate at about a 6. Not fantastic, I gotta say. The biscuits were a little too thick, and the chocolate didn't melt quite as well as it should have. Not that the kids minded at all--any parent-sanctioned excuse to ingest 3 forms of sugar at once is hailed as a miracle!

But I will not be beaten! On the agenda for next time: find a better graham cracker equivalent. There used to be a shop in our mall that imported them from the US, but they were like $13/box. I'm told, though, there are other sources. And also, maybe get some better quality chocolate. S'mores, we will meet again. I'm determined to get your ratings up to 8, 8.5 at least.

__________________

This month, I'm linking back to some of my favorite posts. Speaking of stuff I can't get here in Oz, click here to read about some things I miss from home. But there's lots to love about living here! Here's some of my favorite things about daily life in Australia. And also here.

Richard Dean Anderson, you will always have a place in my heart.

2011-05-12T21:44:00.000+10:00

I'm posting everyday for the rest of May to celebrate my 300th blog post. Give it up, y'all!

A few mornings ago, I brought Grace into the living room so she could watch some cartoons while I finished getting kids ready for school. As I flipped through the channels to find the one I wanted, I saw an old MacGyver episode on TV. You remember him, right?
I'm just gonna say it: that man rocked a mullet. I almost sat down with Grace to watch it, but then I remembered: it's 7:30 in the morning, lunches have to be made and uniforms put on. Perhaps now isn't the best time? And then I was sad, cause really--when is that ever gonna be a convenient time to watch MacGyver?

You see, I sort of really love that show. I have seen pretty much every episode. MacGyver and his creative use of tin foil and packing twine got me through a tough year. When I was 15, I went through a really rough time. But really, doesn't everyone? Seriously, I've done a very informal survey, and most people agree that 15 is a really "trying" age. I wouldn't go back to it for anything. But of course, I'm grateful for the lessons learned and character building yadda yadda yadda.

Anyway, I was fairly depressed that year. There was some significant stress and serious relational issues in our extended family, I had to have major jaw surgery, and what else? Oh yeah--I was 15. Lots of angsty angst. I'd come home from school, make myself macaroni-n-cheese, and stretch out across the end of my parents' bed to watch MacGyver. Two back-to-back episodes, baby. And then, several hours later, 2 more episodes. I know! Don't judge me, love me. Sometimes, mom or dad would come in and sit on the end of the bed with me. And I'd be all, "Shhh! He's got to defuse the bomb with a stick of gum and a packet of ketchup!!" Lord only knows what they thought.

See? I'm not the only one. Aunts Patty and Selma loved him, too.

Of course, I came through that difficult time. And MacGyver, my parents, and God made it possible. Um, not in that order, of course. But the Lord works in mysterious ways, don'tcha know, and I think Richard Dean Anderson played a part. And now, years later and on the other side of the world, I flip past that show on TV and it makes me smile. And cringe a little, too, at the memory of my 15 year old awkward, mac-n-cheese eating self. But mostly smile.

Do you have any weird connections with TV shows? I am not gonna make myself sound any nerdier than I already do by mentioning my love for Star Trek: The Next Generation, Quantum Leap, or The West Wing. The part of my brain that should have mastered Analytical Geometry or Spanish III is filled with lots of trivia! I am pretty much a nerd at heart. Which Jason enjoys reminding me.

Here's just one tidbit, in honor of my mullet-headed, creative problem solver hero: do you know MacGyver's first name? He hated it, which is why it was never revealed until one crucial episode!

I charge thee, do not google it! I'm curious to see if anyone knows it. Let's geek out together.

-----------------------------------

It gets worse. Click here to read some more random, slightly embarrassing, and definitely nerdy things about me.

Revelations during Zumba

2011-05-11T23:15:00.003+10:00

Realizations I had during my Zumba class last night:

1. "Livin' La Vida Loca" is rich with texture and meaning.

2. When I stop shaking, certain parts keep shaking. What does it all mean?

3. When the instructor smiles, it's not only because she loves exercise and has a zest for life. I think she might be laughing at me. The actual laughter when I'm on the front row is what clued me in.

4. Shimmy fatigue is a real problem, and must be addressed.

5. I should've listened better about strengthening my pelvic floor muscles. Or drank less water before class.

6. Lasagna was not a wise pre-Zumba dinner option.

7. I can keep up with the steps and the beat, or I can pump my fist in the right places and shout "Yeah!" like the instructor. Do not attempt to do both at the same time. My brain/body cannot perform all those functions at once.

Do you zumba? It's the dance sensation that is sweeping the nation, you know. Actually, it's really fun. Our teacher keeps the lights off and has little colored disco lights flashing. That way,you can sort of imagine no one sees you shaking it like a polaroid. It's really better this way. Thankfully, all the other attendees are moms from the kids' school as well, so we are probably all rhythmically challenged and trying not to wet ourselves during the jumpy bits. (Sorry, dude readers. I went there.)

Anyway, I taught Grace some of the moves this morning. You know the one where you hold your elbows out to the side with your fists right in front of you? And you kind of beat the air with your fists? I believe the youngsters call it crumping? Or krumping? Here's a young lady I found on Flickr demonstrating. Her technique looks similar to mine, unfortunately. (I don't know what she's wearing, so let's focus on the moves.)
(Hey look--she's wearing Uggs!) Anyway, I was doing my moves for Grace this morning and she started joining in. She was pretty good, actually. I think it helps that she's like 2 feet tall and can get her bottom closer to the floor than I can. I think she's already better than me.

Not that this is a difficult achievement. Your grandma is better than me. And yet, I will continue to shake what my mama gave me. Isn't that all that any of us can do, in this crazy world?