Why we track each other

We are Channel 9 news people in our house.  We have a deep affection for Peter and Livinia.  Although not as prominent, we also have affectionate feelings for Allan Raskall.  He is lively and funny and his stories often come with flair and a special Allan version of dagginess-in-a-suit that we appreciate around here.  So last week, when Allan was doing a story that mentioned schools my ears pricked up.  He was talking about some app for schools to use to track their students (see story here).  Of course the civil libertarians weighed in, talking about children's right to privacy.  And then right at the end it was made clear parents had to agree and students had to download the app on their phone.  The app would allow for geographical tracking and for the camera to be turned off.

Not so much humour in that story, but still there was Allan.

My baby adults and older teen had interesting reactions to this story.  "But Mum, what if those kids are wagging school?"  Yes indeed.  I suspect this is exactly what this app is designed for.  Those students who like to disappear off school grounds during the day without permission or explanation.  In such cases I would be inclined to land on the side of the argument that says a school's responsibility to students (and their parents) would trump a student's right to privacy.  They are under 18 and us teachers get a little bit (actually, a LOT) worried when we can't find our precious people.  In the same way that I get a "little bit" worried when I lose my own children in foreign countries, in places like, say, Disneyland (looking at you Mr Busy).  Thankfully in my school this has never been an issue.  We are in the absolute middle of nowhere and anywhere interesting is far too hard to get to on foot.  Nature has provided the perfect deterrent to wagging.

The news story also raised another round of why we use "Find My iPhone" to track each other in our household.  It's not just us tracking the kids either - we all use it to find out where the other has gone. Many are the days when I get a text from my girls saying "Why are you at Mrs....'s house without meeeeee?"  You can imagine the emoji's inserted afterwards.  Because they discovered I've snuck of to see a friend that they also adore.

When the girls first started driving themselves around in their own cars Apple had just put "Find My iPhone" onto our phones with some update.  I don't know, you do these updates and new apps just appear.  Whatever!  But this one was actually useful to us. We asked the girls to turn it on, to which their immediate response was "What? Why?"  Parents of older kids, you know what that sounds like! So we had to lay it out for them.  These are our reasons for tracking each other:

1. First and most obviously, so that we know where they are!  If anything were to ever happen to them we would be able to get to them quickly, or send emergency services directly to their exact location.
2. Our second reason involves avoiding them being distracted drivers.  With an app like this one, we are able to check in when we suspect they might be driving.  That means we don't have to text or call.  They don't have to feel pressured to respond or pick up, but we know they're on their way.  Neither of the girls have blue tooth in their cars, or hands-free phone thingys so this is a big deal for us in keeping the as safe and undistracted as possible.
3. They get to track us too.  Again, this means reduced texts of the "where are ya?" kind.  If they wake up in the morning and wonder where everyone is, they can find out before they go ahead and panic.  If we are out late at night they can see where we are.

Since all but one of us is an adult, in our house, this is far from being a "nanny state" arrangement.  Anywhere Mr Busy goes, someone in the house delivers him and retrieves him, so we always know where he is anyway.  This is the nature of where we live - transport is always provided by us.  For the rest of us, this is purely peace of mind.  We check the app before we worry or consider getting concerned.  The kids check and see if we're still at work.  We check and see if Miss Sunshine is on her way home from Uni.  We know if Miss Mischief is at "games night" after church on Sunday.  Initially the kids were dubious about the idea of being able to be tracked by us.  I suspect they do more tracking of us these days, and they have all agreed using this app makes perfect sense in our household.

PS  I am in no way related to Apple or this particular app.  It's just one that we use and have appreciated.

The Upside of a Small Family

The government considers us a "big family".  We even get an extra $10 (or something similar) because of it.  Apparently three kids is becoming a rare thing.  Around here, it's a regular sized family, amongst a whole bunch of families with 4-6 kids.  That's Yarra Valley water for you.

Our foray into kids moving out and becoming a small family, albeit temporarily, has brought out some interesting little observations.

1.  It's so much quieter.
Obviously!  The funny thing about that is that we barely know Miss Mischief is home most of the time, because she holes up in her room and slinks out for food, basically.  Truly, our kids are all at the age where the spend a bunch of time in their rooms like hibernating bears, so why is it quieter?  Because Miss Sunshine isn't here to come out in the evening and wrestle through the ads on TV with her Dad. He has no one to pick on.  No one to bug.  No one to bother.  It's just blissful for this introvert who spends all day with people!

2.  I don't have to cook as often!
This is a new discovery this week.  If I cook the same volume as normal, a meal will go two nights, easily. Plus leftovers for lunches sometimes too.  Oh. My. Goodness!  What a beautiful relief.  I'll cook tomorrow night, and then Wed-Fri we'll just feast on the 2nd half of the meals I've made from Sunday to Tuesday.  I figured if I make three and then cycled back to the start it wouldn't feel like we're just eating the same thing over and over.  And thanks to some new, inexpensive-but-better-than-disposable containers from Aldi, this week, we're all set to store single-serve quantities of some of it.

3.  My food budget has gone way down.
I'm still paying for the girls' food.  They're both poor Uni students, and the reality is, they live at home because they can't afford to move out.  So I hand them $60 each weekend (they blow in, briefly for that!) and they make that work for the two of them.  Meanwhile, I've only spent about $50 on the three of us.  Well....I did do a big Costco shop the other day, so that makes a difference, doesn't it?  Still, even if I spent the same as I give the girls it would be less than when they were here for dinner every night.

4.  The girls are very different in how they connect.
It has become clear, this past week, that Miss Mischief is the connector.  Miss Sunshine is happy with distance.  That would probably change over time, but at the moment Sunshine gal is revelling in being on her own.  Miss Mischief has popped in to get Microsoft Office on her new computer, and organised for me to drive down to Koorong, and buy them lunch, and wash her hair....ok, maybe she just needs me more!  I'm blaming the post-op recovery process.

So while I'm content that they are safe and sound tucked up in my friends' home, Hubby comments every day that he misses the girls.  It's too quiet for his extroverted self!

So the girls moved out for a bit

The snowflake above has nothing to do with this post.  Only that it's forecast to be wintry and cold this week down here in Melbourne, and I like this photo!

Meanwhile, one of my dearest friends and her two adult children are winging their way to England right now, to visit with family and enjoy an English summer.  Well..that's a bit of a misnomer, isn't it?  Day time temperatures of 23C isn't really summer, to my mind.  Pleasant, but not the heat we get.  So my girls are off on their second house-sitting experience.  I joke, often, about anticipating their fully fledged flight into adulthood that will come with moving out of home.  One day.  They love the opportunity to have a go at moving out and being all adult-ish.  Of course, Miss Mischief will be back for a bit on Wednesday, so I can help her download Microsoft Office on her new Mac.  They're never totally gone for long!

As much as I love the girls being independent and all on their own, I've realised something just slightly distressing.  My in-house chef and dishwashing helpers have gone with them!  On Sunday I asked Mr Busy what he'd look to eat and cook, and guess what?  It's just you and me in the kitchen for the next few weeks.  His whole body slumped, and I slumped along with him.  It's one thing to housesit on the school holidays, but during the term?  Not so great.  I'm battling thoughts of "but no one is home...why bother cooking?"  How silly.  More of us are here than not, and yet just two being out feels positively vacant around here.

When I got home from work yesterday the house was utterly dark.  Warm....but blacked out.  Mr Busy was holed up in his room, as he typically is, but no one had turned on the lights!  At least he put the heater on!  At 6.00pm, just after I got home, we were rummaging about in the freezer searching for something quick and containing some version of helpful nutrition.

Not only is cooking and the dishes an issue, but also, who will take Mr Busy to church on Friday night?  I'm not even home before he needs to be there.  Girls to the rescue, I think.  Just as well they haven't gone too far away!

One perk:  a regular meal will do us two nights.

And the haemorrhage continues...

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Last week began with a new heater and a new TV.  This week will end with a surgery.  The superstitious amongst us say bad things come in three's.  I dunno...the year thus far seems to be a running tally of things (more than 3!) on which to spend lots of money I didn't want to spend!

I can't remember whether I've said anything about Miss Mischief's hand/wrist.  Suffice to say that a tussle over chocolate with her big sister was totally not worth it!  Two years later, after much pain and  exhausting all other possible treatment options Miss Mischief is headed for surgery on Friday.  We both have mixed feelings about this.  Relieved that the end is in sight, and surgery will reset the healing process and resolve the problem.  Grateful that our health insurance enables her to have the surgery immediately....no waiting list required!  Hopeful that everything goes exactly as the surgeon explained.  And then a bit sad.  Disappointed that prayer hasn't healed her.  Concerned, because every surgery comes with risks.  Sad that this amazing, knowledgeable, experienced, skilled surgeon will be cutting into my precious girl.

And yet.

There have been delightful moments.  Like when we went to book in, Miss Mischief thought it was like making any other appointment - we tell them, not them tell us, when to be there.  She was gently schooled in the ways of booking surgery.  I still giggle at her beautiful innocent naiveté.  I gain a day out of the classroom, in which I can concentrate on my next assignment, because there will be nothing else for me to do while I wait.  I have had to "forbid" Miss Mischief from her usual Friday night responsibilities...she doesn't know that you don't bounce from a GA like you do when you're 4yo.  She might sleep for 24 hours.  She might feel nauseous.  She certainly won't be able to drive for up to two days.

We're having some fragile, tender moments this week, the two of us.

A Very Expensive Day

Yesterday was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day for the poor ol' bank account.  The photo above is the temperature in my house, as I type.  It's gone up 2C since I got up to put the little fan heater on.

Because yesterday was the exciting day we installed a new ducted heating unit.  The previous one spent the whole of winter just stopping.  Every couple of weeks it would just decide it needed a break and just stop working.  Dh is the only one who knows how to deal with the pouty attitude displayed by this appliance, that refused to fulfil its purpose in life.  So we had a new one installed yesterday.  By 6pm, when I got home, it decided it didn't want to work either.  Maybe it thinks it is too good for this 20yo old house?  The guy who installed it is onto the problem, so maybe by the end of the day we'll have heat.  It is a whole 6C outside right now, so something bigger than a mini-sized fan heater would be wonderful.

On top of that, the TV decided to cark it yesterday too.  It's like all the appliances have banded together to stage a mass protest.  I expect the fridge and the water heater to join in the plan any day now.  But the TV?  It has been doing this weird thing where it just loses the plot and has a very loud, very fuzzy hissy fit, right after it gets turn on.  It's a bit like a toddler doing the "dead fly" impression in a temper tantrum.  After a few minutes, though, it usually settles down (unlike toddlers).  Following yesterday's hissy fit, and taking its sweet time to decide to be turned off, it just wouldn't turn back on.

Today's jobs?  Buy a new TV....because apparently there will be zero days on which there is no television in this house.  This has happened before, the day Mr Busy scared a TV into refusing to turn on (he was 4yo and was playing with the on/off button; he (we) lost).  Out we went and got a TV that day.  Being here for Mr Heater man to come back and sort that beast out.

So here's the maths for this year:
new car for Miss Sunshine + new heater + new TV = no new kitchen any time this year 😭

The year began with such high hopes.

Then We Stopped for a Bit

I realised, just this morning, that the Labour Day long weekend has occurred at exactly the right moment in the middle of the school term.  I know it was the right moment, because I slept for 10 hours the first night, and seven hours for each of the next two.  Hours and hours of uninterrupted sleep.  That's when I know I'm really tired.

As well as sleeping, however, this weekend infused us with a needed dose of our tribe.  Each year we camp with people we've known our entire lives.  A family of five siblings, some of their spouses and many of their children.  Plus us, and another family, all of whom grew up in the same church as children.  Back then we played together, holidayed together, churched together and spent our days in one another's homes.  My aunt married the cousin of the 5 siblings, so we are connected in more than just deep friendship.

It takes time to develop community; a tribe of people that are part of your everyday life.  I didn't realise how valuable that was until we needed to uproot ourselves and move to a new church.  All of a sudden our tribe wasn't our tribe anymore.  But these whole-of-life friendships have been the ones that have sustained and fuelled us along the way.  They are precious and necessary.  We know each other's faults and gifts.  We know when to "smile and nod" or roll our eyes quietly, and when to challenge and how to laugh.  That's not a quick thing to develop.

So this weekend we've camped.  Us in our 30yo very saggy caravan.  The kids now use little tents because they don't fit in the bunks at the back of the van anymore.  But it does the job.  It only takes us an hour to pack, and we're on our way.

The next time we camp it will be with a new tribe.  One we're building and growing and sewing ourselves into.  That's also necessary.  But there's nothing like the comfort of something deeply known.

And then the Windows Sparkled

I've just had a whirlwind 24 hours with my parents visiting.  Dad needs to be close to home for the next couple of months, so they came down so he could do some phone repairs for us, because he's very clever with things like that.  We have no clue on earth!  So while Dad fiddled with wires and crawled under the house (he likes that we live on a slight hill, because space!) Mum decided she would clean my windows.

Well.  You will never ever see cleaner, sparklier windows than these.  A little cloudy ammonia, some water, a few swipes and lots of WOW!  So since Mum was cleaning the glass and needed to remove the screens to do those panes I figured I'd clean the screens.  Every time I look near a window, now, all I see is outside.  No dirt.  No dust.  No mould.  Just outside.

My mother is a very funny lady, with a brain for problem-solving.  She happened upon this cleaning method because she was cleaning grout with cloudy ammonia, and she began wondering what it would do for her windows.  Not being one to die wondering, she gave it a go.  And then wanted to bless me with her magic window cleaning potion.  I am definitely the winner.  Her very diplomatic assertion was that cleaning my windows was very satisfying.  I'll bet...some of them were pretty awful.

This is yet another episode in a lifetime of ammonia events for my mother.  I remember, when I was 9yo, and we had not long since moved to Wewak (PNG).  I came home from school one day to find Mum on her hands and knees with a bottle of ammonia and a bread and butter knife, in the kitchen.  She was scraping years of floor polish off the floor boards.  I distinctly remember the acrid stench and that I very quickly left the house and went outside.  But Mum pressed on, because she is not only funny, but also very determined (some call it stubborn, but I think determined is a kinder description to this trait, which she has passed down the line of oldest daughters).  That polish was also embedded with grime and mould, so she did not stop until it was done.  And then she took to caring for that floor properly, until they refinished the floorboards a few years later.

Me?  I'm scared of ammonia!  Hopefully the windows stay shiny for a long, long time!

R.I.P Chelsea

I think I may have mentioned that the girls have named their cars.  A trait passed down from my mother, and which skipped a generation!  Miss Sunshine's car was named Chelsea.  Despite not having power windows, she was quite attached to Chelsea.  Until Wednesday.  Chelsea has been sent off to car heaven under some not-so-pleasant circumstances.

As of today, Chelsea has been farewelled with registration and insurance refunds on their way.  Thankfully, Miss Sunshine only has a graze, a bump, and muscle stiffness.

Fun - 20yo Style

Miss Sunshine's car is off the road for a couple of days, thanks to a cracked windscreen.  This morning I drove her, just like old times, to one of her friend's homes for some good old fashioned girlfriend time.

And what do 20yo young women do when they get together?  Make gingerbread houses, of course.  It matters not that the season for such things is now passed.  You wouldn't want to let that get in the way of a good thing!

I love that these three girls, who spent most of their Primary years and all of their Secondary with each other, and that they still value their friendship.  They spend the whole day making gingerbread and then creating cute little cottages - one each to share with their families.  Miss Sunshine's is now missing half a roof.  The most delicious roof you ever did taste!

Of course life with a 20yo is never smooth sailing, especially if said child is one that needs to be the boss of her own space.  I believe "tanty" adequately explains the whining little hissy fit that happened as we left the house.  Something about sap and having just washed her car.  If only life was so perfect that sap never happened!

Family Christmas Gathering

 

Some of the selections offered

We had our Christmas gathering with Dh's side of the family yesterday.  This year we simplified and pared things way down.  After swapping gift certificates last year, we opted for putting our gift budgets towards lunch.  Yum Cha is the only way this family could possibly go, in order to avoid the massive amounts of work required to feed and clean up after 20-ish people.

The "children", most of whom are now adults, sat at one table and ate like kings and queens.  These children are far too well educated in the ways of international food, particularly when Malaysians number within the clan.  Mr Busy sat next to one of his cousin's wives.  She ensured he was well fed. The kids complained they were being banished, but really I think they had way more fun.  They are a hilarious bunch when all together.

Chinese custard tarts are usually the sought-after dessert following Yum Cha.  My preference is this mango mousse.  Lighter.  Refreshing.  Cool.  In all honesty, however, yesterday I indulged in both.

Endings and Legacies

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As I look back at the date of my last post and think of all that has happened since it feels like time has sped by so fast!

We're about to finish up the school year - just two weeks before my precious school babies move on to a new year level.  I get to keep my Year 3's as new Year 4's.  I have to send my Year 4's on to someone else.  It makes me wonder what legacy I've left with those ones I have to hand over.  I was putting together covers for their portfolios the other day and I was chuckling over some photos, taken back in May.  They look so young and small and uncertain.  Yet joyful and happy.

The other event that has me thinking about legacies is the death of my grandmother.  We buried her this morning, in a graveside service.  Just family from all the far flung places from whence they hail.  My cousins from NSW.  Dad's cousin from Hobart.  Granny's brother and niece who have been, more recently, right here in Melbourne.  I've talked a little, with my students, about my Granny's legacy.  Her faith and its impact on the generations that have followed.  The way she never made us feel we'd disappointed her, even when we had.  This morning one of my cousins shared how excited they were when Granny would visit them, at their home near Sydney.  How she would bring his favourite chocolate and lollies, and wait on him while he played on the beach. For hours.  Without complaining at all.  These are the stories of my grandmother.  She visited her family no matter where they were.  The six years we lived in PNG brought with it two visits from Granny.  The second time was a three-month stint, and, bless her, she had to share a room with me.  I mentioned to Dh this morning that I always felt a little inadequate whenever my NSW cousins would be close by.  Granny talked them up and it was always clear how much she loved them and thought they were the most awesome people ever.  It has only just occurred to me, maybe she did the same about me, to them.

My Granny was the best grandmother a person could ever dream to have.  

A Little Break

View from the front door of our cabin

It seems like, when you have kids, you never know when the last time is the last time.  Mr Busy reminded me of this when we were walking along the other day.  Our hands bumped as we walked and he remembered that once upon a time we had held hands when crossing the road.  We don't do that anymore.  He's 16 and 6 foot 3 inches.  He doesn't need me to keep him safe like that.  I never knew, the last time I held his hand to cross the road, that it would be the last time.

Since we have some baby adult kids now I am so keenly aware that we don't know when the last family holiday will be our last one together.  We've just spent three days up on the Murray River in Echuca.  Actually, Moama.  These border towns are such a thing!  We slept in NSW and spent our time in Victoria.  In any case, three days in a little cabin, in a big caravan park, but right on the riverfront.  We got to watch the Emmy Lou paddle past from time to time, and we watched the river meander by.  It was cold, so we cosied up inside with a good heater and played games and read books and watched "The West Wing" episodes (we all wish we could vote for Jed Bartlett in our federal election on Saturday).  Dh worked a fair bit, because that's what you do when you're self-employed and some of your clients are near Echuca.

But mostly we just enjoyed being able to watch the river.  There is something serene about being near slow-moving, calm water.

Banks of the Murray River - right opposite our cabin

Miss Sunshine showed me how to use the panorama function on my phone's camera.  The teacher in my just *had* to take a shot of the erosion on the river bank, since we've just been learning about that in class.  My new phone also takes a few seconds of live action, so it's been kind of fun to see what is captured when you think you're taking a still shot - like cousins heckling each other as they get into position for a photo.

I don't know how many family holidays we have left before our baby chicks start leaving the nest, but this one was delightfully relaxing.  Slow days, dark and quiet nights for good sleeping, enjoying our funny little bunch of crazies.

Cousin Time and More Breakfast!

Dh's brother and family are in Melbourne from interstate this week.  Our kids adore one another and cousin time is hard to come by when they live so far from one another.  In honour of the fact that our kids are all in independent schools and are already on holidays we began the week with breakfast at a cafe.  It was local to them, yet an hour from us.  By the time we arrived I was getting a tad grumpy about the drive.  An hour!  First thing in the morning!  I'd had an apple to tide me over, but still.

All of us girls ordered waffles with poached pear and this is what arrived on our plates.  Had I known I would have shared with one of my girls.  As it turned out Mr Busy was the happy vacuum cleaner that got to eat about a whole waffle sans pear.  It was absolutely delicious!

Yesterday the six kids jumped on trains and met near the city for a day of exploring the MCG and surrounds.  Miss Mischief's public transport anxiety rose to the surface and entertained us all.  She was all back pack on and ready to walk out the door a full 45 minutes before they had to leave!  Miss Sunshine likened it to a little Preppy getting ready for their first day of school.  Anyway once I'd written out all the details, handed over the one MyKi we owned, and some money, she settled a little.

At some point through the day Miss Sunshine got tired of keeping up with the long-legged boy people and snapped this pic, saying "they have such long legs".  They're all over 6ft!

I have been in love with the combination of these three boys together all their lives.  They are smart and funny and cute and three peas in a pod.  They all still give their aunties and uncles and mums and dads hugs, even though they are big teenaged boys.  They are polite and respectful and have beautiful gentle hearts.  This is teenaged kids at its very best.  I adore them.

We're all having dinner tonight.  The big, crazy bunch that is Dh's side of the family.  I can't wait to see this bunch of cousins together with a couple of the older ones as well.  They are completely delightful and entertaining in the best possible way.

Working Full Time - A Year In Review

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A whole year has whisked its way through my life since I started working full time.  It's one of those strange phenomenon, where the days seem long but the year passes in the blink of an eye!

This time last year I was eagerly preparing myself to teach in a school where I didn't know anyone and not one of my students was familiar to me.  In short order I fell in love with that quirky, funny class.  And then six months later I left, since I only had a short term contract.  This year I am teaching in the school where I worked before I got my degree; the school my children attend(ed).  I knew all my students before I entered my classroom, some of them before they were even born!  I even get to teach my niece.  Along with all the lessons I'm learning about how to be the best teacher I can be, I've learned a lot of lessons about being a Mum who works full time as well.

1.  You can't do it all.

I've always known this.  Working part time and studying was a hard gig.  But I was home almost straight after school and I had time each week to weave in things that I enjoyed.  These days I'm not at home for about 10 hours a day.  I can't do all the things I wish I could.  At the start of the year I decided not to even pretend to try.  I have a good friend whom I pay to clean our house.  My kids cook lots of meals.  The girls help with ferrying Mr Busy to middle-of-the-day destinations, like his VET course on a Wednesday.  I choose not to feel guilty about any of those things.  

2.  Know the season you're in and respond appropriately.

I know that my current season is not an easy one.  Learning a new job, learning to do that in two different school cultures in one year, learning how to juggle motherhood with working life.  It's a big learning curve.  Working full time with a family is so different to working full time before having children.  In this season it means lots of self-protection.  Our weekends are fairly quiet and we don't do a lot of entertaining.  I sleep a lot on the weekends.  I am very careful about what I commit to.  I look forward to my work life being more seamless and streamlined than it is right now, but I know that is not my current season.

3.  Work/Life balance is a myth.

Because I can clearly identify my season and how I need to respond appropriately I am not overly concerned about the fact that my life is quite unbalanced at present.  My work takes more of my time than I would like it to, but it's part of learning how to do what I do now.  I was chatting with my BIL yesterday morning and he agreed - we need to make sure what we do aligns with what we believe is important.  I am content that my life exhibits that alignment.  I am committed to doing my job well.  I am committed to being in community within my church community.  And of course, being a mother means family is always a high committment.  My life is not and does not look balanced.  But it is totally aligned with what's important to me.

I am so grateful to have had 13 years at home with my children, focussing on just one thing: being a mum, raising great kids.  I am grateful to have the opportunity to move into a new season, where I get to do a job I love, and that this has coincided with my children being in their late teens/early adulthood.  I never thought I would want to work outside the home again.  I feel so blessed to be able to work, again, in the place where my son also spends his days.  I love that I get to work full time, and yet touch base with him in the playground, or when he stops by my classroom to ask for money for the tuck shop.  I am blessed to have one daughter who has decided she doesn't like being home when the house is being cleaned so she comes and helps in my classroom.  

The Things We Say

Do you find yourself saying some unusual things to your children?  It seems to happen regularly around here.  Probably owing to my propensity for being direct.  And the fact that my children are just funny.

So, for your entertainment - a note recently written to my girls as I dashed out the door at 7.15am.  Written on a Thursday morning before my friend came to clean.  I simply cannot make her clean the hair out of the bath - all of which belongs to Miss Mischief!  And Miss Sunshine needs a big lead time to orient her mindset if I want her to cook dinner.

I got a text from Miss Sunshine later in the day suggesting we would not all die.  I don't believe her.  She's never tried to get away without feeding this mob of eaters.

What odd things have you found yourself saying to your kids?

The Frog My House Killed

The last thing I expected to find on my lounge room floor, the other morning, was a frog.  In fact, it wasn't immediately obvious that the little brown blob was a frog.  The kids and I looked at it.  We discussed what it could be.  We looked at it some more.  And then I prodded it (because mothers are the bravest ones in the house), and the little blob kind of stretch a limb-looking thing.  Slowly.  Just a little.

It took a little bit to convince ourselves that we did, indeed, have a froggy little visitor.  After many questions about how it got inside (I just don't know, asking again won't get you an answer, people!) we decided that all the fluff and hair and dust had clogged up its ability to move, if it was alive enough to survive.

I got a tissue to pick it up, and tried to rinse it off a little with some water.  It stretch a little more.  Then I took it back outside into a protected, but wet, spot outside in the rain.  I suspect a kookaburra decided to eat it, because this poor little froggy friend really wasn't moving much.  It was certainly gone by the time I got home from work.

Miss Mischief was so excited that our house was healthy enough to have a frog in it.  I pointed out that the frog wasn't healthy anymore because our house had killed it.

Just in time, my very precious friend is coming to clean my house on Thursday.  Maybe then the house will be healthy enough not to kill a frog with dust bunnies and hair!

She's Ours

Imaged Credit

"Ooohhhh.  She's ours!"  My aunt made this proclamation as she hugged me tight.  "Us" who have little mercy and struggle to show sympathy.  "Us" straight-shooters who don't mince words, and tell it like it is.  "Us" who know these are not always strengths in a world of broken, messy people with expectations about how they should be treated.  I'm one of "us".

Changing churches four years ago ripped away so much of the belonging and being known that I had so treasured.  It happened under difficult circumstances as these things often do.  Rebuilding community and establishing new friendships has been slow.  Uncomfortable.  Difficult.  It has torn at the edges of my identity layers.  Not that who I am has changed, but who I am in the context of community just didn't exist for so very long.  In the first year or two at our current church I did a spiritual gifts survey.  Mostly it affirmed and confirmed things like me becoming a teacher.  I understood that my love of history and geography comes from my apostle/mission gift.  Apparently I am wise (a new career path kind of puts a bump in that road).  I have a spiritual knowledge that is supposedly heightened.  I don't know - these things just seem normal to me.  Then I looked at the bottom of the gifts.  Mercy was ... well ... almost missing.  I have just enough to know I need to work on it.

What I discovered, over Easter, as I spent time with my Mum's siblings is that my lack of mercy is a family trait.  I come from a long line of people who are not inclined to be overly sympathetic.  My mother described a time when my brothers and I had a week of injuring our feet.  A by-product of never wearing shoes that didn't seem to change our bare-footed ways!  I'd had a wort surgically removed from one foot, and then sliced the other open on some glass.  My youngest brother came in, just days later, having sliced his foot open in a similar way.  When my middle brother did the same thing later that week my mother's response was "sit down and be quiet," and she went to gather the foot dressing stuff that had not yet been put away.

I cannot explain what a relief it was to know that my lack of mercy is not unusual.  Each of us in my non-merciful family have other gifts the world needs us to use.  I among a beautiful group of people who are perfectly OK with their kids leaving home - celebrate it, even.  They are great at figuring out how to unlock passworded spreadsheets and fixing computer glitches and finding geocaches.  They are creative and funny and cheeky and they laugh a lot.

The precious gift I received this Easter was a repair in my identity.  Not just because the weekend was about remembering that Jesus made me part of God's family.  But because I truly belong to an amazing group of people.  And mercy isn't required to be valuable, loved, accepted.

Spring Cleaning: The Last Mt Everest

Before - View from the front door

I have done it.  I have tackled Mt Everest and won the battle.  Above is a picture of my personal Mt Everest.  While I was studying this little corner was fairly tidy and organised.  Since I finished (over a year ago!) this has become the place where I dump my stuff.  I don't work here because the modem doesn't seem to like the front room and I have sketchy internet at best.  Besides, it's much more relaxing to sit in front of the telly, so that's where I tend to work when I bring things home.

It took me hours of riffling through piles and bags and bits and pieces.  I threw out a whole bunch of stuff I haven't looked at in ages.  It is so tempting, as a teacher, to keep great resources.  I have decided, however, that there is little point to keeping much beyond the year level I currently teach, and so much of what I have is also in electronic version on my computer.  

After - View from the front door

I have reduced my rubbish tip to one bookshelf and moved the little filing cabinet to another corner of the room where it doesn't look too out of place.  What you can't see are all the things I need to take to school.  I didn't realise how much I had collected, but I'm thinking a big plastic box/tub will keep all those things contained and defined as mine.

I think that is the last frontier that needed my attention over the summer.  I refuse to deal with the kids' rooms.  We will fumigate and replace carpet when they leave.  Just kidding...sort of.  Actually maybe it's just Mr Busy.  In any case, doors were created for their ability to close so that's the method I use to deal with their messes.

Of Dust and Other Thankless Tasks

I have spent the last two days cleaning.  Since this is one of my "off the beam" things this year you'll understand how I might feel about it.

After packing down the Christmas tree and spending an hour vacuuming every corner of the room to get rid of fake tree needles and tinsel I have rearranged furniture and got that room back to non-Christmas normal.  And you know what?  I didn't even get to dusting.  Oh dear... and oh well.  After a day deal with all that I went in to spend some time in my new classroom.  Guess what?  More dust!  Two of the kids and I spent two hours dusting, cleaning, sorting and I rearranged a whole bunch of Maths resources.  I threw a whole bunch of old stuff out that has been there way too long.  I still have a whole bunch of shelves behind my desk that I need to go through as well, but that will happen another day.  I have a whole year after all!

My last school holiday cleaning job?  Cleaning out the little corner that has been my "office" for the last five years.  I don't work at that desk anymore and it just collects junk.  My junk.  And since it's right near the front door everyone sees my little pile Mt Everest-sized pile of junk.  Must deal with it. Today perhaps.

Just as well these thankless tasks, that no one else appreciates, brings a certain amount of satisfaction when you finish them yourself.

The Parenting Files: Driveway Real Estate

We have a new driver in the house.  Yesterday Miss Mischief became the proud bearer of a Victorian Probationary Driver's Licence.  She came home, sent texts to the people she wanted to tell and then promptly got into her little itty bitty car  (whose wheels are half the size of mine!) and went over to a friend's house.  Just like that.  I'm here to tell you that maiden voyage is the scariest, hardest, worst moment of my parenting life.  It's so much easier when you are in the car with them, which is saying something.  Supervising learner drivers is certainly no picnic.

With the procuring of that precious little piece of paper comes the real issue.  Driveway real estate.  We have a two-car carport...and four cars.  The girls have been coming up with all kinds of solutions to this problem:

1. Rip out the garden on one side and widen the driveway.
2. Remove the picket fence so they can park on the front lawn.
3. Remove the entire front garden area and make it parking space.

I think the solution is that we will be moving cars about a lot.  There is room for the four, with two in front of the carport.  It's squeezy but adequate.  In winter you can bet we'll all want to be under cover, rather than enduring icy windscreens and wiper water sprayers that freeze up.  Maybe Dh and I can start our own little real estate business and charge exorbitant amounts of rent each time a P Plated car ends up there?!  Actually the more pragmatic part of myself tends to think the first one out in the morning needs to be in front.  Under those circumstances I may never see the carport again.  Last year I was the first to leave almost every day.

I think I can wait a long while until Mr Busy joins the ranks of licence drivers.