Category Archives: Family

Superman Got Nothing On Me

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Like branches of a tree we grow in different directions, yet our roots remain as one. Each of our lives will always be a special part of the other’s.

As mentioned in my last password protected post, I turned 40 on the 22nd of July. (If you missed the password then hit me up on facebook or leave a comment and I’ll get it to you.)

People keep asking me if it feels any different and to be honest I would have to say probably not. It was scary turning 30 and it felt like I was getting so old but with 40 I accepted it and embraced it. I even partied a little too hard.

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The first blog entry of the year – And it’s “only” September

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I really wish I was more organised and I blogged more frequently. It seems like at least once every six months I commit to blogging more and I’m good for a week or two and then I get out of the routine and forget to log in and write what I’m thinking. I used to blame my friend B for that because he once accused me of using my blog to passively aggressively attack those I supposedly care about. That made me stop blogging for a while and I never got back into the habit again. Now that I have Natasha and Nicolas things are busier and the time I would once have had is spent doing things like reading chapters of “The Folk of the Faraway Tree” or dancing around like no one is watching in my pyjamas. I treasure those moments but I miss taking the time to record my thoughts and to share my opinion with those who take the time to read the entries (even if it’s no one!)

So why am I suddenly blogging for the first time in over 9 months? Because I am inspired. The person who inspired this entry probably questions why a seemingly ordinary conversation would warrant me sharing my opinion. It wasn’t really something he said but more the fact that I was able to catch up with him briefly today.

A little background: I am truly blessed where I work that over the course of the last few years I’ve gained what I affectionately refer to as my work family. There were originally five of us in the work family but over time that has grown to around eight and a half. (I never said I was good at maths). When things are going incredibly badly these are the people I lean on. When things are going well, these are the people I high five with. When I need a shoulder, these are the people I turn to. You get the picture.

The original five of us used to be a tight knit group. As it happens in most work places, a couple of those members have moved on to new adventures, leaving three of us behind. But what strikes me is that all of us – those original five (and the other three and a half) would move heaven and earth for each other. We’re lucky to have been thrown together to work as a team. We were “just” colleagues first, then we became friends and finally family. We’re there for each other, no matter what and no matter what hour – there to share the highs and the lows because that’s what family does.

It’s because of this we face the reality that sometimes one of us will mess up. What recent times have proved however is that we can count on each other to pick up the pieces. I’ve watched this happen in recent weeks when one of us had their heart broken and another had an agonising wait to find out how his dad was. I’ve experienced it first hand when I struggled with what was going on around me and almost threw in the towel.

One of the hardest things for me to admit is that I’m not coping. It’s a character flaw I have. I hit breaking point before I ask for help. I got to the point recently when I really thought it was too late. If it wasn’t for this group of people I would have made one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I realise now, looking back, that it is because of these people that I am able to win this battle. I can fall to my knees but they will pick me up and carry me if that’s what I need. Why? Because that’s just how it is. They may not be blood but they epitomise what it means to be family.

 

As it happened

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A few days ago the world changed for me. I was browsing twitter and saw 144 characters stating that there had been another massacre in the US and over 20 people were feared dead. I sighed and thought to myself “Not again”.

My mind drifted back to 1999 when I heard the news of the Columbine High School massacre. When I heard that news I had not long been teaching. The students holding the guns then were a similar age to those sitting in front of me at the time. I remember thanking my lucky stars that I taught in Australia and not in America. I knew very little at the time about the massacres that had occurred in the US prior to Columbine. I watch the Michael Moore documentary at the cinema and wondered why someone didn’t do something about the number of guns in the US. Surely no more innocent lives should be taken. After a few weeks I filed that event away because nobody seemed to be doing anything. I was disheartened and a little scared for America.

When the Aurora shooting happened this year I was a little shaken. I’m not sure if I would have been as shaken had it not been the midnight screening of The Dark Knight Rises. That may seem a little insensitive given 12 lives were lost and 58 people were injured. I am sure I would have been saddened if it had been any other movie. Why did it matter that it was The Dark Knight Rises? Well, that’s a simple question to answer in my mind. If it had occurred at my local cinema’s midnight screening, amongst those waiting for the movie to begin would have been my younger brother and sister. I remember hearing people suggest that Veronica Moser-Sullivan’s parents were irresponsible for allowing a six year old to attend a midnight premiere. I thought to myself at the time that it’s actually something I can imagine my brother doing for my nephew. I also remember wanting to tell people that they shouldn’t be judging anyone’s parenting in the wake of such a tragic occurrence. As time passed it slipped from the attention of twitter and Facebook and again America seemed to learn nothing from the event and everyone moved on.

So why do I now say that the world changed for me in the wake of the Sandy Hook massacre? After all, I remember the news hitting the TV and newspapers when the Port Arthur Massacre occurred in Tasmania. I remember the Strathfield Massacre. The first time I went to Strathfield Plaza on my own I remember stopping and panicking a little. It was an irrational bought of fear. I remember my mum telling me years later that she and her uni friends used to drink at the pub where the Milperra Massacre occurred. I’ve heard news about events like Waco, Columbine, Dunblane Scotland, Virginia Tech and Monash University. I’ve even got my own “memory” of guns from when I was a little kid. But now things seems so different.

Maybe part of it is because now, thanks to the internet I have a better connection to America. For the past ten years, the person I call my BFF has been on the other side of the keyboard in some state or another in the USA. My soul sister lives in Georgia. I have many more “friends” in all parts of the US. Maybe part of it is because now I got to see the events unravel as I opened Facebook, twitter and plurk. I saw the debate about gun control in the US and could actually participate in real time. I’ve been told I have no idea what I’m talking about because I don’t live in America. I’ve been told I’m not entitled to my opinion on more than one occasion. I’ve unfollowed, muted and blocked people who have basically suggested that their right to bear arms is more important than saving lives. I’ve had people tell me that if those teachers had been allowed to have a gun in their desk drawer that some of those children and all of the teachers wouldn’t have died. I’ve tried to remain calm, to tell myself they are entitled to their opinion. I’ve tried to tell myself that perhaps I’m not seeing the entire picture.

Then I turn on the tv. Even when I’m not watching the news there will undoubtedly be a news break and the story will feature, a picture of one of the victims will appear, or a snippet of an interview with one of the parents will come on the screen. My eyes will start to water again and I will grab which ever one of my children is closer and hold them a little bit closer.

Today I took Natasha to buy her hat for when she starts school next year. As I walked in the gate I realised that in those classrooms, students and teachers were just doing what they do every day. It could have been a school anywhere in the world. Sitting in those classrooms were kids the exact same age as those 20 children who’s lives were taken last week. In front of them, or maybe even sitting on the floor reading to them, were their dedicated teachers. I fought back tears as I walked into the office and then out the gate again. I said a prayer for those students and teachers and for those at Sandy Hook Elementary. I wondered especially if those who survived the massacre will ever feel safe at school again.

I have no idea how the world recovers from this. How do those families who lost children, ever enjoy Christmas? How does the school community come together? How does America move forward? I don’t have the answers and I probably have 100 more questions.

A great deal has been discussed in the Australian media and I believe in the US, about our gun control laws here and how America needs to do something this time. My mum blogged about this more eloquently than I ever could. But there are a few things I want to say about it.

  • Contrary to what certain Americans seem to believe – it is not illegal to own a gun in Australia. My understanding (and please someone comment and tell me if I’m wrong but do it nicely) is that there is a ban on all semi-automatic rifles and all semi-automatic and pump-action shotguns. There is a system of licensing and ownership controls. There is a 10-round magazine capacity limit.
  • The government that introduced the 1996 gun control laws in Australia were the Coalition lead by Liberal Prime Minister John Howard. Why do I mention this? Mainly to explain that our Liberal Party here is closer to the Republican Party in the US than the Democrats. So when you want to say “Well it’s reactionary liberal thinking like Obama’s that introduced those laws” you’re actually misinformed. John Howard has more in common with George W Bush than Barrack Obama.
  • I don’t believe for one second that those teachers having a gun in their desk is a wise thing. Imagine the psychological damage that would be done to those poor first graders who saw their teacher wave a gun in the air. Before you start thinking – well they have to deal with seeing dead bodies and 26 people died, I know that. I know that it will have an impact on them for years to come. Would it have saved lives? We will never know and speculating gets us no where.
  • I realise the United States is a country where gun ownership is part of the constitution. I’m not going to argue. But gun control isn’t necessarily about taking guns away. Limiting the magazines, the number of guns that can be held and the places they can be bought should make a difference. What do you lose if it doesn’t? If it saves a single life because the next crazed gunman has to reload, doesn’t that make it worth it?

If people want to kill on this scale they will find a way to do it. You only have to wonder what could have happened in China last week when 22 students were stabbed if those slashes were in different places on those poor kids. Even with our gun control laws there have been 132 shooting in Sydney this year. People have died from gun shot wounds. But our last massacre was in 1996. Gun control has to have had something to do with that. From 1984 to 1996 there were at least 8 mass shootings in Australia. What changed? The only thing I seem to be able to find is the ban on semi-automatic rifles and shot guns and the introduction of stricter licensing and gun ownership controls.

I know gun control is only part of the issue and a lot has to be done to support people with mental health issues in the US. But I firmly believe that these things go hand in hand.

There are many more things I could say. There are many more emotions about the lives of the innocent children and teachers I could write about but I’m tired, physically and emotionally. So I leave you with these three things:

  1. A link to a breakdown of the first 60 hours
  2. A hope that something changes in regards to guns in America
  3. A song that I find myself humming a lot at the moment

 

Feel free to comment. I screen all comments on this blog to stop spambot but I will release any comments.

You’ll Be In My Heart – Natasha’s Preschool Graduation (Part One)

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DISCLAIMER: There will be another entry about graduation that includes better photo montages once I get a copy of the photos taken by Orsola and Sandy. I will also add video of Natasha’s performances once I’ve taken the time to edit it.

In my last blog entry I reflected on Natasha’s daycare experience and how last night marked the “official beginning of the end”. I also commented that last night deserved an entry all to itself. Natasha and Nicolas are asleep so it’s a perfect time to begin that entry. My mental preparation for Natasha’s Preschool Graduation actually began in November 2011 when we attended the Preschool Graduation of the class of 2011. It gave me some insight into what to expect for Natasha. I remember sitting there then, observing the formalities and thinking that all too soon we’d be there but not as observers but as participants. It was with that in mind that we chose Natasha’s dress for Nicolas’ Christening. I figured if I was buying a formal dress that she would only wear once she might as well wear it twice. The thing with Natasha is that she loves looking like a girl so a pretty pink dress was something I knew she’d want to wear as often as she could. I also started thinking about how I would make the day extra special for her. One of the first things I thought about was who should attend the occasion. I knew it was just a preschool graduation but everything her daycare does is above and beyond what it needs to be. I thought about having just the four of us attend but Natasha loves being in the spotlight so in the end I decided to invite my whole family. Numbers wise that decision was made easier because Dad, Brian and Cara were going to be in China. Invitations were sent out and accepted. Flights were booked for those who needed them. (Thanks for coming up Stix.) Tickets were bought and all we had to do was count the sleeps until it happened. Whether I like it or not Natasha is most definitely a girlie girl so I decided I’d make sure we did some girlie things. Having Sian in Sydney made that so much easier because I had an extra set of hands to deal with Nicolas. On Thursday I took Natasha for her very first manicure. I premise this by saying that until the Jandy wedding last year I hadn’t even had a manicure myself. She decided she wanted silver sparkly nails and so that was what she had done. I think I’ve created a monster because she told me that next time she wants to have a pedicure too and a different colour on her nails. Friday started with a very excited little girl jumping in to bed to watch Dora. She had one final rehearsal and I’d organised to pick her up at midday so she could rest and then have her first “real” hair appointment. She spent the morning trying to remain calm and tormenting Nicolas. She was really excited because her teacher Miss Michelle sent a special text message for her to my phone. I picked her up at midday and when she got into the car she found her first ever bottle of perfume on her seat – a “Happy Graduation” gift from Rocco and I. It is Ariel perfume and for a $10 bottle doesn’t smell all that bad. When she got home I had Nicolas give her a graduation teddy bear which Sian had helped me get personalised the day before. I tried to get her to nap but she was too excited so we laid on my bed and read three chapters of The Enchanted Wood by Enid Blyton and then she had a bubble bath so she smelled “pretty”. We picked up Sian and raced to Burwood for our 3:30pm appointments. I made them simultaneously as I knew time was an important factor. Natasha’s hair was washed and almost blow dried before mine was even started so at one stage I thought we were running out of time for mine to be done too. However my stylist is a champion and he got it presentable enough for graduation. I had to laugh when they put a booster seat, cushions and a pile of towels on the seat so Natasha could just reach the basin.   We had to rush home and thanks to Stix we managed to be ready to leave just in time. Our drive to Five Dock was done in reasonable time. We found a great parking spot. I took Natasha in and we went upstairs to wait for her grand entrance. Nicolas had a great time waiting and showing off in his cute suit. Natasha had told me that she was leading the preschoolers in but I really wasn’t ready for it. I knew I’d be teary. The minute Yvonne said they were starting my eyes got watery. My little girl did me proud, leading the Graduating Class of 2012 into the room.

The only downside to the venue that there is no stage/podium so people push and shove to get the best view and stand up to take pictures. As Natasha was presented with her certificate I was so proud. I know there are many people who consider this sort of thing, and especially on this scale, to be excessive but I’m glad this is how the occasion was marked.

As usually happens, once the “diplomas” were presented it was off with the academic robes for the graduates and on to being entertainers.  They performed two songs. Natasha is such a performer and got right into it.


 

 

December 1st – The beginning of the end of the year.

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Today is the 1st of December. It’s just another day really but at I sit and reflect on what has happened recently and what still has to happen before the end of the year, I really felt like blogging. I hate that a friend’s comments on my previous blog a few years ago now, made me self-concious and so I stopped writing every couple of days and just got out of the habit. I’m taking my inspiration from my mum’s blog these days and blogging when I feel like I have something to say. I take lots of inspiration from my mum. She’s pretty awesome. I know I’m totally biased in that but I also know there are other people who think that too.

Last night marked the beginning of the first part of my daughter, Natasha’s educational journey. When I returned to work when she was just 10.5 months old in 2009 I placed my faith, and a lot of confidence in the carers at a local daycare centre. In preparation for that transition I visited a number of centres and what struck me with this one from the moment I walked in was how family orientated they were. It was a centre co-owned by a mother and her two daughters. The director pronounced my husband Rocco’s name with the same Italian accent that my father-in-law had. Something felt right about it. I cried a little the day I got the call to say they had five days for her. It was a tough decision to leave her with virtual strangers.

Over the past four years she’s grown up from a chubby-cheeked crawling baby into a bright, inquisitive little girl (although she’s most definitely yell at me if she knew I was saying she was a little girl. Every day for 48 weeks of the last four years we’ve packed her bag and taken her off to spend her day, playing, drawing, learning new things and enjoying her life experience. I could never have given her those experiences.

Leading up to yesterday, she and I sat down and flicked through the pages of her portfolio books. I read the comments her teachers had written about each of the photos and memories came flooding back. Those who know me well, will know that I’ve teared up a few times, especially seeing her hand prints as they’ve made an appearance each year.

She started off in the baby room and spent two years being cared for by some inspiring teachers. Her carer in her first year is one of the most dedicated people you’ll ever meet. She will always hold a special place in my heart because she showed me, from the very first meeting, that she was born to look after kids. Her quiet and caring nature is still evident today as we reminisce about how little Natasha was and the things she did when she was in Miss Kylie’s group.

In her second year, she moved up to the older group in that room. I remember her coming into her own. Her teacher Mary Ann would always be so happy to see her in the mornings, quite frequently whisking her out of Rocco’s or my arms before we had a chance to catch our breath. Mary Ann took time every day to make sure I knew where Natasha’s strengths were and to offer ways for her to improve the things she didn’t do as well. As it got closer and closer to the time when Natasha was transitioning to the Busy Bear room, it seemed like Mary Ann would always take that little bit longer to let her go.

In 2011 Natasha transitioned to the Busy Bear Room. She went from being one of ten in the room to one of 19. An extra teacher to deal with the kids and to make sure she enjoyed every day. Her teacher Fatima, was new to the centre and I remember being worried because I didn’t know her. I had nothing to worry about. She cared for my little girl just as much as Kylie and Mary Ann before her and added makaton to Natasha’s experience so she learned a few words in sign language. She was the first person outside my family who knew I was pregnant with Nicolas and was as excited for us as the rest of them.

At the beginning of this year, as Natasha walked in to Shelly Bear, I remember thinking “Well, this is it.” I knew it would be her last year at Shelly Bear. She was entering the preschool program with Miss Michelle. I’d heard, even before Natasha started, how great Michelle was at preparing the children for school. While I believed it at the time, I believe it even more now. This remarkable lady has helped my little girl learn how to do things like tie shoe laces, recognise all the letters and count to almost 100. Almost every day she comes home with another thing she’s learned. I know she’d learn things if she was at home with me too but I would never have thought to teach her how to open her own tiny teddies or how to put a straw in a juice popper. I’ll admit that it’s been hard for me to watch Michelle introduce these experience to her. Each one got me closer to today. Of all of those experiences though, the hardest for me was the one Natasha embraced from the get go – Kiss and Drop Off.

While Kylie, Mary Ann, Fatima and Michelle were officially Natasha’s teacher there were other at the centre who also cared for her. When she was a bubby bear there was Thi. Thi was quiet but her smile was infectious and to this day I still credit her with the fact Natasha know the silly version of “open, shut them.” Thi left Shelly Bear at the end of Natasha’s first year and sadly passed away. When I attended her memorial service I was reminded of what a caring person the world and my daughter had lost.

Also as a Bubby Bear, she was cared for by Kathy. Natasha still gets excited on “Miss Kathy Days” and delights in making sure she hugs Miss Kathy and says “Good Morning” before she takes herself off into the Busy Bear room. I have some great scrapbooked memories to share with Natasha because of the care Kathy has put in to creating new experiences for the children.

In both rooms, Natasha has been cared for by Dina. Dina adores Natasha and frequently tells me what a beautiful young girl she is. Like Kylie, she and I reminisce about Natasha’s first days at daycare when she didn’t eat and Dina et al had to basically force food into her mouth. We joke about it now but it was so frustrating for all of us. Dina, like all of the teachers, treats Natasha as one of her own. She has a way of knowing what to say and when to say it that  is unique and makes me grateful that she’s part of Natasha’s day.

Yvonne is one of the directors and was the first person I met at Shelly Bear. She is the one I’ve shared many moments with, just chatting about how things are going. Her wisdom and experience have made my experience a good one and I’m grateful that it was her centre Natasha got a place in.

They say you should save the best until last. In a way I think I have. While Fatima and Michelle have been Natasha’s official carers in the past two years, Angela has shared the responsibility, as they both only work part of the week. So while Fatima and Michelle get all the “glory” it would really be remiss of me if I didn’t acknowledge Angela’s place in Natasha’s life in the last four years. She is one of the nicest people I know. During Natasha’s first two years at daycare I got used to her saying “Hi” and to Natasha running over to give her a hug goodbye. Over the past two years I’ve gotten to know her better because most days it would be her who told me about Natasha’s day and listened to my stories and shared her own. She left a couple of months ago to pursue other things but the impression she’s made on Natasha and on me will be long lasting.

Last night it was Natasha’s official graduation from preschool. That deserves a blog entry all to itself and I’ll probably write that later tonight or tomorrow. I wanted to include something about it here though as it is the occasion that marks the beginning of the end. I am always proud of my little girl but as I watched her enter last night, leading the way for all her friends as the first in the line, through my tears I was prouder than I have ever been. My little girl is all grown up – ready to go to big school. No longer the baby she was when she started at daycare, she’s grown into a beautiful kid.

It was hard last night to realise that I’m fast approaching the end of an era for Natasha. I breathe a little easier knowing that Nicolas will be a Bubby Bear next year so it won’t be until 2016 when I have to say a final goodbye to these people who have become such a big part of my life and the life of my daughter. I don’t even want to think about how I’m going to cope with doing that just as I don’t think I’ll cope in 2019 when Natasha graduates from primary school or in 2025 when she graduates high school. Don’t even get me started on next year when she starts school.

In {Your} Daughter’s Eyes

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For the past two days (not even two really) I’ve been a “single parent”. Rocco is in Melbourne for a show and left at around 9am yesterday so from wake up  time yesterday I had to do everything for both kids. Usually our morning routine is mostly me but if Nicolas is screaming Rocco takes a minute to calm him down. Natasha is big enough now to do things and get herself ready but it still takes more of my time and attention that I thought about until the last two mornings. I have managed to get Natasha to daycare both days before the end of craft which is an achievement.

Night time has been a little tricker. I have an amazing husband who does more than most. Usually I deal with one of the two and he’s watching the other one. While he cooks I feed Nic. While Natasha has her bath, he looks after Nic. While I get them both off to bed, he cleans the kitchen. Last night everything went smoothly. Tonight not so much and I found myself stacking the dishwasher with Nicolas on one hip and Natasha yammering in my ear about something that happened at daycare, expecting my full attention. I think I managed to fein interest and could answer and respond in the right spots so on the mummy front I’m doing ok. I still haven’t managed to get all the washing off the line but there’s always tomorrow.

As I sat pairing socks tonight I found myself thinking about my  mum. She’s a remarkable woman and there have been many times I’ve realised that both before and after becoming a mother myself. Tonight though I wondered how she did it. My dad left before my youngest brother was out of nappies. She managed to deal with three kids under five and make sure we were all fed, clothed and showered with affection. I wonder how she didn’t go insane and scream at us all. I have a few memories of being yelled at when I was young but none of them are of my mum. She’s always taken everything in her stride. I am sure she’s actually got her own Super Woman outfit. I’m struggling to cope on my own for three days and she did it every day for ten years. She did it again years later with the addition of another baby. By then she had a baby and three teenagers each with their own issues and dramas. Still she managed to feed us, clothe us and make sure we all knew we were loved.

Recently this incredible woman I call my mum blogged about becoming an empty nester. (I would link to the blog entry but I don’t want to ask her permission). It was interesting to read about her experience and to realise for the first time in her life she’s living alone. Part of me feels guilty to think that while she was going through this and adjusting to it last year I spent less time there than I usually do. She works so hard and I wanted to give her peace and quite on the weekend. Maybe I should have made more of an effort to pop in and spend some time with her. I’m sure even the noise of Natasha running around and the million questions would have been a welcome distraction.

She took the time to write about each of us. I know my mum loves me and I know my mum is proud of me but to see it “in print” made me tear up. Sometimes I feel like I’ve disappointed her and that she could have had a much better life if she hadn’t become a mother at such a young age. But I realised reading that she has no regrets. How could she? She’s done something not everyone can say they have. She’s managed to shape the lives of four “families” for generations to come. Many of the values I want my children to have are the very values she instilled in me.

I take my hat off to this incredible lady. If I can be half as good a mother as she is then I’ll be happy.

P.S Mum: Sorry about the country song.

Further to getting organised

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So I’ve achieved three things in the last couple of hours:

  1. I managed to get Natasha’s washing on the line in between finishing my blog entry and needing to pick her up. Tomorrow morning I will take them off the line, fold them and put them away. It doesn’t seem like they are  all there though so it’s likely once I sort out the laundry and tidy her bedroom tomorrow I will need to do another load of her clothes.
  2. I went through Nicolas’ drawers and the basket of his clothes and packed away things that don’t fit. It’s a little sad to see some of his cute clothes packed into a box waiting for the next child in the family to wear them. It won’t be a Mini Rocco and Sarah which I point out with mixed emotions. But at least a mini John and Sandy will have Batman shirts and sweater vests to wear. {Note to self: Alert John and Stix to the fact none of Nicolas’ Batman shirts fit anymore.} 
  3. I managed to get some of Nicolas’ clothes in his drawers. As per usual as I was in the middle of it he started crying for attention. Natasha kept him entertained a little while but she can only do so much. I think I will plan to finish it off when she’s in the bath in an hour.

With Rocco away I’m left to cook. Natasha wants pasta and tomato sauce so while I’m feeding Nicolas the water is boiling and I’m blogging. One of my tasks next month is to get both my children eating more variety but that will be a blog entry for another day. I’m going to cook some sizzle steak to have with my spaghetti. Cooking is something I’d like to do more of but every time I plan to it seems Nicolas has a bad day. I really need to make better use of my time because I’m sure I should be able to get more done.

While driving and sorting washing I came up with a plan of attack for chores and what to do every day.

  • Monday: Wash Natasha’s clothes. Tidy up kids bedrooms after weekend.
  • Tuesday: Sort Natasha’s clothes and wash my clothes. Tidy lounge room.
  • Wednesday: Sort my clothes
  • Thursday: Wash Nicolas’ clothes. Project day. Tidy toy room
  • Friday: Sort Nicolas’ clothes. Project day.
  • Weekend: Wash towels and sheets and let Rocco do his washing

I’ve left Wednesday as a half day (with just one task) as I take Nicolas to Rhyme Time at our local library that day.

As you can see Thursday and Friday are Project days. There are a number of tasks I’ve been putting off that I need to do before I go back to full time work next year. So here are the projects (in the order I think of them)

  1. Collect data and evidence for my RPL
  2. Tidy toy room
  3. Reverse linen press
  4. Set up my study so Natasha has a “desk” too

I might even take before and after pictures for 2 and 4.

Time to get organised

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This weekend was a lot busier than I expected it to be. I expected the 10am ballet lesson, the short visit to PLC Pet Show and then lunch yesterday with Rocco for Fathers Day. I had thought I’d  spend Saturday afternoon finally doing and sorting the washing. I am really down about two things at the moment – the mess that has become the toy room AGAIN and the fact that I never ever get the laundry done. The same baskets of washed laundry have been on the floor in our bedroom for a month. It seems so stupid that there aren’t enough hours in the day to get it put away. After all, what do I do all day apart from sit at home? I should be able to get on top of the chores a little more. I could be doing some of the sorting now but I have to get Natasha in fifteen minutes and I know that I’ll feel like I never made a dent. When we get back I’m intending on at least sorting the clothes in the laundry and organising loads for tomorrow. Rocco put his clothes away before going to Melbourne this morning so at least that’s one less pile to work on.

Despite the efforts of both my parents I’m not a very good house keeper. So I’ve decided that starting Thursday I am going to have a plan of attack – a task or two I will do each day to make things easier. I’m using an incentive board/reward chart like I do for Natasha. I’m not sure what my incentive will be but I need to do something. I keep getting sidetracked watching Nicolas crawl around or watching TV. I need to record something in the bedroom so I can sort laundry. You’d think that with all the foxtel channels I’d be able to find something mindless to watch while I sort clothes. Either that I need to stop sleeping for three hours in the middle of the day when Nicolas does.

For the next three days Rocco’s in Melbourne so it will be all systems go once Natasha gets home. My plan is to let her jump on the trampoline while I hang out a load of washing. At least I got one load done today. Maybe if I do a load, dry it and put it away at least the piles in our room won’t get any bigger. Hopefully next Monday when I blog I’ll be in a better mood about this house. If I get laundry sorted this week I can tackle the toy room again next week.

Maybe then I’ll feel less like a failure.

Closing Time

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Recently I had a long overdue cup of coffee with a friend I’ve known since just after high school ended. I haven’t actually had coffee with him in about twelve months. We keep meaning to but time slips past. We converse in text, emails, via Facebook and the very ocassional call. I literally bumped into him at the local food court and we decided that it was a sign to sit and speak.

So we ordered a mocha (as we always do) and passed the time catching up.

As things so often do with us – conversation turned to his love life or lack there of. In the twelve years I’ve known him this is the longest he’s been single. This time last year he made the decision that the long distance relationship he was in wasn’t working for a variety of reasons. It wasn’t an easy decision for him because he loved the girl with his whole heart but it started to get intensely psychotic (not because of either of them but because of people interfering, doing intense google searches and threatening to basically have the police investigate him and everyone associated with him). [NOTE: It’s comments in this entry like that which had me wondering if I should post this]

I’d been there the day he made the decision to send her an email telling her it was over.

I proof read about 100 redrafts and watched him make about ten attempts and smoke a whole packet of cigarettes before he pressed the send button.

During this conversation he told me that he’d only just fully come to terms with having made the right decison. As it turns out, unbeknown to anyone involved, he’s been beating himself up for the past twelve months. While he knew at the time he was making the best decision for him he wondered if it was the best decision for her. I asked him what he meant because I was sure that he meant something more than how it sounded. He said that he thinks her life would have been better if they’d stayed together.

The issue here is a complex one because I’m friends with both parties. I’ve been her confidant over the last twelve months (and prior to that too) and sometimes I’ve wondered if I should talk some sense into him and try and convince him that love was enough. There were periods of time when they both seemed so miserable apart and surely they wouldn’t/couldn’t be that miserable if they were together. He confessed that if I’d suggested that they should be together he probably would have caved in and told her he’d made a mistake. But he’d come to realise that he had to be happy with his decision and that it had been his decision to make. He couldn’t have survived and stayed in the relationship. It was slowly changing him into someone he didn’t want to be and he realised that while he loved her more than anything, he didn’t love her enough to fight for her when the odds were stacked so poignantly against them. I know that she had a different opinion of that and I can’t comment without going into details and explanations that aren’t mine to reveal.

He asked me if I thought it was possible to stay friend with someone after a relationship ends. I was a little perplexed by his question because he and the girl were still friends. As he revealed more the explained that he wondered if they could truly move on and live another life while they still clung to the past even a little bit. I had to laugh at him. I told him that he had to see it from the rest of the world’s perspective. It was obvious they had fought to redefine their roles in each others life. Occasionally they seemed to slip into complacency but he always managed to snap them out of it.

Have either of them moved on truly? I have to be honest. I don’t think they will ever truly move on. I liken their relationship to that of first loves – there is always a part of the heart that will belong in that relationship. But I’m sure that they’ll never go back. They’ve both grown and learned from the experience. They gained a friendship that will last a lifetime.

He asked me if I thought it would be easier for her if he’d walked out of her life. I couldn’t answer it then but it’s that question that prompted this entry.

Yes and No.

I know it’s not the answer he wanted and maybe I am completely off the mark but –

I think if he’d walked away never to be seen again she would have fallen apart more than she did. She would have gone through a process similar to losing someone permanently. He had given her space to grieve. Perhaps he should have given her a little more space than he did but this is why it worked for them and they are good friends. She needed to know that he wasn’t gone forever, that his role in her life had just changed a little. He wasn’t nor would he ever be her “knight in shining armour” ready to rescue her from the evil “dragon”. There’d be no fairytale wedding and no happily ever after. But instead there would also be no end. It was just time for a new beginning and as the song says “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”