The Invisible Man...

Yesterday I had $1 in my bank account.

I searched the house for lose change to get me on the train to the city for today's PD. I'd already thanked the universe for the positioning of two PDs into my week which were accessible by train...especially when the shrill beep began which signified the rapidly emptying petrol tank last night. I had to get thru to Wednesday arvo...then I could fill up!

Leaving the car at the station I sat and enjoyed the ride into the city, a luxury I am rarely ever afforded.

Exiting the station into bustling Melbourne city I followed my phones gps to the pd destination, walking in rhythm with the throng of those around me. A mixture of suits, uniforms, casual wear...all with a purpose and destination in mind.

As I walked up to the destination I noticed on a metal seat outside there was a red, open mound of a sleeping bag. As I walked past I looked carefully but it simply looked like a traveller had dumped their things there, for no human could be seen under the crumpled pile.

At morning tea break I exited to buy a water at the McDonalds across the road and the red sleeping bag was folded upon a backpack and there sat a man. Asian in appearance, watching as the world walked by him.

And walked by they did. Fast, slow, chatting, silent...all walked past, no glance, no acknowledgment. He was the invisible man.




I entered the PD once more and felt like the biggest loser and selfish person in the world. I hadn't spoken to him, I didn't acknowledge him...I was weak and no better than anyone else walking past as though he didn't exist!

The day went on and the afternoon session of one of the best PDs (professional development) I have attended in a long while began to come to an end, I took my time exiting the building, my stomach doing somersaults, my heart beating strongly as yet again I walked past..but this time all that was on the seat were belongings. No invisible man. I need not feel guilty for partaking in no communication...no eye contact! (I feel so terrible even thinking let alone writing that!)

But I did wonder where he was?

Did he go across the road to get food? To use the toilet? What a naive, educated idiot I was! For there he was...peeing on a tree around the corner. Toilet? Buying food? I was a moron for even thinking such things and felt like an indulged child who didn't truly understand the REAL world!

I crossed the road and entered the McDonald's across the road and ordered a meal that I had no intention of eating. I grabbed serviettes and filled the bag with them.

My heart and stomach beat and swirl as a thousand thoughts went through my mind! What would happen? Would he get mad? Would he be able to eat it? (allergies/halal etc) it wasn't the healthiest food I could have gotten, would he judge me? Then the answering thoughts slapped those ones around the head..he is homeless...I don't think he will be fussy! What would I say to him? What would I do?

Click click click...The lights changed and the little green man told me it was time to move forward. As I walked across the road, food and drink in hand I looked at the invisible man and his deep brown eyes looked right back into mine.

He was old. He was frail. As I approached, his mouth opened revealing gaps of gum free of teeth. He sat up straight as I held out the food. I smiled, he nodded his head and uttered in broken English, "thankyou, thankyou very much". I nodded, smiled and told him its ok, it's ok, your welcome.

And I walked away.

I should have said more. Told him I'm sorry. I'm very sorry I have a home and family and fresh meal to go home to. Sorry that I have long hot showers and drive a big arsed car. I'm sorry I have a job and can buy things. I'm sorry that this metal bench seat is your home. I'm sorry all I needed to do was wait until Wednesday to have more than a dollar. I'm sorry that your Wednesday may never come.

But instead I said, "for you" and "it's ok" and walked away feeling a little lighter of heart for simply doing something...even if it was nothing of consequence at all.

As I boarded the train surrounded by suits and uniforms and casual clothes of all variety, all moving with life and purpose I thought of the man and wondered if his belly ever felt full? if he ever felt safe? If someone shows him care each day? If he cares if they do?

Today I went into the city to learn how to empower girls to be confident and have positive friendships. I left the city having learnt that and a lesson about myself. Maybe what i did wasn't so big in the scheme of things...but I've learnt that my empathy for societal issues has crossed over from simply thinking I care and feeling anger at the injustices to actually taking action to prove it.

As the suburbs zoomed past the train window on the way home, I vowed to myself that this first action would not be a one off. But instead would set a precedent for the future. His gratitude was one of the best presents I've received in a long time...and selfishly I suspect I walked away from our interaction with more gained than he.

My inner tradie....

He would look on with condescending amusement as I would use a screw driver or hammer in a nail. My nerves so shot from the concentrated scrutiny that my palms would begin to sweat, the tool slipping in my fingertips, bending the nail or missing altogether as the hammer connects with my fingers and I curse in frustration and agony as he laughs and tells me to let him do it.

Dejectedly I would sigh and down tools, step back and eventually leave the room altogether. This was the pattern for so long that I gave up. Asking him to do it was less painful than the ordeal of trying myself..not because I believed that I couldn't do it..but because he believed I couldn't, and made that very clear.

I took the backseat, the feminine position he expected me to sit in but it never fit quite right, it was not me. Rather than take it on completely I took upon the role of playing the damsel in distress while dying of frustration inside and fighting the urge to just grab the damn tool myself and do it! Longing for the feeling of accomplishment when it was complete, to see individual pieces of wood become something together...to know it was of my doing..I created it..the pride.

It wasn't to be, so instead I would craft and Sew (acceptable female creating) and long for the freedom to do it all.

When we were moving everything in and I finally rediscovered the bunk bed screws I had misplaced we realized that I did not have the right sized Allen-key to put them together. My Uncle and Brother and I stood there looking at those pieces of steel which needed to fit together for my slumber weary boys and then my brother said, "Go to Bunnings and buy an Allen-Key Sis!". A thrill of excitement shot through me at the thought of entering the tool section to buy my own tools! Car keys were located and I was out of there in a flash!

Ten minutes later I stood before the wall of screw drivers and wrenches and Allen-Keys admiring their silver, gleaming beauty. I took some off the shelf before returning them due to being too heavy or too 'not quite right'. I finally chose one and then made my way to the counter. The lady suggested a different set, right there at the register as an alternative..it was on sale for $4 and had every different size attachment for screwdrivers I could possibly need! I also picked up a small hammer at the same time.

I walked back into my house that day and alternated between watching the men use my new tools and using them myself. The bunks were finished and my boys were back in their own beds again.

Since that first day I have used my tools every single day! I have put together 8 different pieces of furniture with their assistance..and fixed an old one.





Each and every time I hold them in my hands I feel incredibly free, strong, powerful and...at home!

They may just be a screwdriver set or a hammer...but they represent the enormous change in my life, for when I hold them, when I use them and create or fix with them....I'm being me, I'm living free.

Next purchase.....a drill! ;)

Living....

A friend dropped around to fix my washing machine on Sunday night and he asked how long I'd been in the house and suddenly I stood shocked as it dawned on me that it had already been a WHOLE WEEK! One whole week in our new house.

You'll need to forgive my absence as every night I've been falling into bed exhausted. I was left the job of sorting, packing and cleaning everything! The first six days we were barely at our new house as I dragged the children to the old house to clean and continue moving things. But finally...after some hiccups, the house settled last Thursday! It is now somebody else's and the relief I felt when I got that call was phenomenal!

What can I say about my move experience? It was almost enjoyable. My uncle and brother and a family friend helped move everything and they were so wonderful. It wasn't stressful. Previous moves I have done while married have been dreadful, stressful events where at some point I'm berated and at no point do I have a say. This time though my voice was important and we all worked together. I was calm and the whole thing went really well!

From the first night here this place has felt like home. Despite the box city we're navigating our way through each day we are so happy here. There are ups and downs still, but essentially we are working together more and life feels good here.

Today I put together the Ikea furniture I bought. It took a few hours but I did it and then we unpacked 10 boxes into it. It is situated in the kids (living room) space and looks incredible. I will share when it's complete.

I have had down moments and this move near on destroyed me...but I survived. And for the first time in a very long time..I can look at all I'm achieving each day and feel pride and feel as though I am doing more than merely surviving...it feels like I'm living...and that's a damn fine position to be in :)

xoxo
JAAK

Today...

Today, after my half day of work (last day of term) I am traveling to the real estates office to be given the keys to our new home.

I haven't spoken much about the process of packing up and moving because I haven't been able to. Moving this time, is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life.

Each other time that I have moved it has been for happy reasons. I had just got married and we moved in together. Then our first home, building and moving to a bigger home. Leaving behind happy memories at the old house and moving forward into an expected happy future. This time it has been markedly different.

I had to go through many of those happy (and many not) times memories and belongings and each one brought with it a wave of emotions that often were just too much to bare! I had many people right by my side for the majority of the packing and I am so grateful that I did. I could not have done this without their support.

Today I get the keys placed in my hands and it will be the first house that I ever take responsibility of alone. It's a new horizon for us and I have been waiting for this moment for so very long.

To walk the corridors of a house with no ghosts.

To decorate and build a home that is safe and happy and where I belong, where the children belong and can be happy is something I dreamt of long before I was a Mum.

We are all so very excited about this move.

We are all not talking about what we are leaving behind.

Talking about it hurts...so right now we will live by this philosophy...





And looking forward to a fresh start and happier times ahead.

Sensory overload...

Today I awoke to the sight of my beautiful boys lying beside me and from that moment on I knew that the day would be good.




I wish I could say the same was true for my big boy.

While I was packing all day with beautiful friends packing also by my side, ticking to do list boxes and achieving tasks, K-Man was really struggling!


At school every lesson brought with it the inability to cope with anything much. The work, the students, the teacher and environment...it was all just too much for him. For the first time all year he had meltdown after meltdown! He was as he is a home, at school today, and I think it shocked his teacher!

K-Man has perfected the art of holding everything in until he gets home. Of going by the rules and doing the right thing at school. He observes and he blends in. To the point that I've had comments in the past about how 'normal' he is and how there's no need for an individual plan for him or any type of help at school that needs to be offered! As though I am a helicopter Mum or hypochondriac, making up his disorder for attention because THEY.DON'T.SEE.IT.THERE!

Today they saw it and I was almost happy about it!

He isn't coping well with all the big changes happening around here right now. But if you spoke to him, you wouldn't possibly guess that the packing and moving and the increased anxiety/anger and meltdowns are connected for he is genuinely excited about moving. He has been waiting a long time to live closer to school, to move to this house. But the amount of activity in this house, the frequency of people coming and going and the packing up of his things, even if just for the next few days until we move.....is enough to send him into sensory overload.

Little A-Man is in sensory overload all the time right now also. You'd think that'd be a good thing wouldn't you? That the boys could relate to how each other are feeling? But it doesn't quite work that way! They are continually getting on each others nerves because they are so different (and so so alike). A-Man is repeating things, whether it's behaviors or words and that is driving K insane! He becomes so frustrated with him! Oppositely A-Man is becoming anxious and frustrated with Ks defiance, rudeness and out of character behaviour and screaming, which results in increases in dobbing and crying a lot, as he is constantly telling his big brother not to do something or say something, which results in him copping an earfull! K becomes like a lit firecracker and they then meltdown off each other!

It's not a nice time here right now for my beautiful boys who like routine and structure and knowing where everything is....because right now all our things are in boxes and their world is anything but structured and organised.

Only four more days boys...we can make it :) and what a celebration moving in will be...right at the start of two weeks holidays :).

I cannot wait! :)

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Box City...

My parents, brother, cousin and best friend came over today to help pack.

This morning there were just a handful of boxes packed...tonight I'm navigating my way through full boxes along most walls :)

I have moved a couple of times before and none have ever been as hard as this.

You see I decided that I really need a complete fresh start, which means leaving behind those things which might hurt if stumbled across in the new house.

So I needed to go through photos and belongings of my old life. A life that was supposed to be my happy forever. The life that took me through from teenage years to adulthood...the life that turned sour long before it ended......finished.

I ripped photos (cathartic!), sorted CDs, DVDs, books...box for me- box for him. I threw out things, kept some things...decreased objects to take to the new house and donated a car full of goods. I welled up, I sunk low but I kept.on.going!

It's getting done and the hard parts haven't been nearly as bad to get through due to my family and friends by my side.

Soon my hands will hold the keys to a new house, a new life.

But until then...more boxes need constructing and packing and more friends will be right by my side helping me through. Thank Goodness For That!

Take that pragmatics!

Packing boxes...

so.much.fun!

To break up the monotony this afternoon I decided to break out my best comedic dance moves to a MJ song on the radio and asked K if he liked my dance moves? He have me 'a look'. I then got a smile out of him and so pushed my luck by saying, "so I'm gunna give up my job and become a professional dancer!"

With a smirk on his face he looked me in the eyes and said, "yeah, good luck with that!"

WOOT! Who said pragmatics was a problem for him? ;). Just five years ago he would have thought I was serious..but now he's every bit as smarty pants as any other nine year old boy! Love It! :D

Our puppy (who is actually 11years old!) moved out today! She's gone to live with my parents (which is the Taj Mahal of dog homes with daily chats and pats, left overs and spoiling galore!). I miss her already :(




her leaving home face :(

I should have taken a photo of her there though, I assure you she was grinning big :). We will see her a lot still which is good. I would love to have her living with us still but I had to put the kids and I having a home as top priority and unfortunately I had trouble getting a rental with her :(.

She was my first baby. If I'm this emotional about my baby puppy girl leaving home can you imagine me when the kids fly the coop? I might just have to keep them at home forever! ;).

Well this Nana (not literally....just in behaviour sense) was woken at 4.30 to serve breakfast to a hungry, better little A-Man this morning..so I'm turning in.

Night interwebs! :)

(and night Leanne, my threatened and incredibly welcome daily stalker ;) ).

A-Man and the nasty bug

Today they called me at work because he was sick :(




So very sick :(

He travelled back to work with me and watched fireman Sam while I helped get the 130 lunch orders out that we were responsible for, while intermittently running to help him when the nasty bug in his belly wanted out :(.

He said to me, "I want to Doe home mama". So that's where we went. Picking the big kids up early and going home to snuggle watching a DVD.

I hate it when the kids become sick and there's nothing i can do to help them. (thankfully it was just one this time!)

(Although so glad I've been forced to get over my vomit phobia! Never thought that would ever happen! Ah, a mothers love for a child can overcome any boundaries :) )


Poor Little A-Man :(

One Year On....

Woken by the phone, surrounded by my sleeping children I pressed answer and my world imploded!

What is that saying? 'The straw that broke the camels back' ...that's what it was that occured that day. It was the straw that broke me..us...it...the marriage. One year ago today.

Shaking, shivering, sobbing I rang my parents and they came straight over. I. Rang my best friends, I broke. I cried and sobbed and shook....all day.
Then I got up and made dinner and tried to sleep that night. The next day I went to work...working and running on adrenaline and little more than two hours sleep. Day by day by day the time passed. Step by step the time passed. Things got a little better, things changed...we changed for the better.

Freedom.

Today is one Year since that day. One year since the path to single mothering started and the recovery of the life that we had always deserved but never lived. One year since beginning to understand that love doesn't hurt and destroy...abuse does.




A year...it went by in the flash of an eye.

I so wished, on that day, that I could hit a fast forward button to take me one year ahead to a day I imagined when l'd have moved right past all of this. When it would all be over and I'd be living an incredibly happy life. Today, I might not quite be feeling that way, nor be living that life just yet...but there is always next year.




This time though, I'll avoid wishing for the fast forward button...there's too much growing to do through the pain. And the ceasing of the pain makes the joys of life so much more incredibly sweet. :)

Children should be seen and not heard unless asked to speak...and other such discrepancies between then and now

Today we stepped back in time to the 1800-1900s!

The big, golden bell rang summoning the students to class. 2 lines of gentlemen and ladies were formed, and they were led into the classroom that they used to know, which had been transformed.

Tables had changed from groupings to straight rows.

Reprimands were given for yawning without covering their mouths, for putting their hands up rather than standing and bowing (or curtsying) and slouching was threatened with the block!

Writing was completed using a dip pen and ink well and amazing questions were asked and answered to their satisfaction :).

The teacher was brilliant and incredibly engaging. I worried as I took photos and video that perhaps this wasn't engaging enough for them..with an hour of 'talking to'. But after it was over the only complaint was that it went way too fast! They wanted more, another lesson, a WHOLE DAY!

The in school lesson was a wonderful success and a great way to bring to a close our unit on federation and life in the 1900s. Next week we celebrate immigration and the wonderful people who helped build this country of ours :)

Have I told you how incredibly cool year 6s are? (probably a dozen times now ;) )

This place....

There are lots of different fluffy little things I could write about tonight.

I could write about the killer headache/migraine that keeps coming and going like an unwelcome visitor for the last three days....but I won't.

I could talk about the cloud of grey snuggled around me right now which is draining my energy leaving me wanting to sleep for the next one hundred years at least....but I won't.

I could talk about the low level emotions I am feeling right now which have my eyes poised to spill over an avalanche of tears at any moment and the hollowness of heart and stomach that nothing seems to fill...but I won't.

I will instead tell you why.

Why my sons are having so incredibly different but equally as traumatic times at the moment trying to regulate their emotions and failing in massive meltdown moments.

Why my daughter is talking back like an acid tongued teenager.

Why I am suffering all of the above ailments and so much more.

Why?

Because we are on the cusp of one of the biggest changes we've ever experienced. And although we are all excited about the moment being in the near distance when we can settle and just be......

At the moment we are in this horrible place where we are stuck in the past, surrounded by memories of what was, surrounded by the dreams of what was supposed to be and what will never be. Sifting through bits and pieces which stir up more than their menial hard cases were designed for and with each bit and each piece my heart breaks and although they deny it, I think theirs (my beautiful babies) does a bit too!

We are leaving here...leaving the house we built for the forever more of grown children and grandchildren and happy days of my dreams (for reality showed a different reality once the rose tinted glasses were removed!) . Torn I am between the heartache and pain of looking around me knowing within three weeks this will not be mine anymore to feeling contempt and hatred towards the same walls and backyard and carpet for causing me such pain and heartache, for not fulfilling my dreams..for making me hurt so much..wanting me to leave immediately...now...RIGHT NOW and never look back!

In truth, preparing to leave this house feels like the breaking of my marriage all over again. It hurts like hell, breaks my heart into a billion pieces several times a day and leaves me seeing nothing but grey on even the sunshiniest days!

But, there is that little part of me, the small Buddha within who sits and watches and gives me a knowing smile...for he knows that this pain I necessary to truly enjoy the freedom and new beginning which is just around the corner. I just wish I did not have to live through it to get to that point.




Soon kids, soon....this will be finished and we will truly start again...soon.

special request...if you come by and read this post could you please say hi, nothing more..just hi. Just wondering who is reading and also feeling a bit alone these days so just to know someone's stopped by would put a smile on my dial :) - Grazie

I'm linking up for the first time this week with Jess from Diary of a SAHM :)

Mum Knows Nothing, lol....

It's not a good day when not even the sunshine can warm you.

I've felt very sick today. My parents have stepped up to help which I'm so incredibly grateful for.

Tonight my big boy K called me to his room telling me he had a joke* for me.

K:"what's your name?"
Me: "Mum"
K: "what's this called?" (pointing to his nose)
Me:"nose"
K: "what's in my hands?"
Me:"nothing"
K: "ha ha ha ha, mum knows nothing!"

I faked shock and tried to tickle him while he wriggled out of my reach and we laughed.

I walked out of his room smiling.

Sometimes I forget how much of an antidote these babies of mine really are :).

*K never understood jokes. The fact that majority of the time they rely on pragmatics makes them very hard to decipher. But with practice and lots of coaching he began to understand and like jokes. Telling them (and the beginning phases when he would then explain why it was funny, which I loved and found just as funny and adorable as the joke itself!) reading joke book after joke book and memorizing them and telling them...so cool! I love his jokes so much more because of the journey he's taken to be able to tell them :).



My joker boy left this for me to find in the photos folder! Hehe

Distract me no more...

I sit, phone in hand and scroll, click, open, close apps.

Like opening the fridge looking for food over and over, futile searching and distraction from what must be done.

Whirling, thumping noise fills the house free of calls for mum, squeals of laughter or pain. Child free silence. Soon the whirling, thumping will stop..washing cycle complete.

Tapping rocks in glass, turtle tank filter..reminder of a job to be done, tank filled, filter cleaned.

Distracting tasks consume me as I avoid that which must be done but hurts to do.

Taping boxes, filling them up, sorting into donate, throw out, pack. Tasks leading to the future stirring up memories from the past.

Avoid says my brain, avoid says my heart. Offering other distractions...shopping, browsing, working distractions and do the packing goes undone.

But it's not going away..the day comes closer and closer...opportunities diminish to complete it without cries for mummy and little fingers unpacking and salvaging what's been thrown or donated.

Must be done....

Don't want to!...

Burn the lot? If only...

Scrolling, clicking, shopping..stop! Distractions be gone.

Time to harden my heart..



And pack!

There's something fishy going on...

This morning we were late as normal to swimming lessons, but it's ok because their swimming teacher, MsA, is totally lovely and welcomes A2 with a smile no matter what the time.

He got in and did his normal refusal to blow bubbles or refusal to kick (and on some days refusal of both! ;). ).

I was walking from the edge of the pool to my seat when I was hit with an idea!

A2 loves to make fart noises with his mouth and give raspberries when I least expect it! So I whipped around and said to him, "hey A2, blowing bubbles is the same as making fart noises with your mouth underwater! It's making fart noises at the fish!" (disclaimer- the fish alerted to are fictional and not live and swimming around in the public pool!)

He looked at me for a few moments with a look on his face which clearly translated his thoughts that I was insane!

And then...he cracked up laughing and tried it! I feigned shock at such rudeness and he did it again and again!!

It was awesome!

I sat and watched as he blew bubbles (made fart noises at fish) all through his next drill with MsA :).




practicing afterwards

I approached the poolside again and said to him, you know how you like to splash water at people? Well kicking your legs is you splashing water at the fish!

He thought that was so fun that poor MsA got a face full of water whenever she ventured too close to his feet from that point on.




For the first time ever A2 swam with his teacher and simultaneously kicked his legs and blew bubbles! :)

To celebrate this new skill we all went to watch Nemo in 3D on the big screen...




It was 'totally awesome dude!'

Today was the best kind of fishy day there ever could be :)

Just keep swimming ;)

Only darkness, no words of my own, so these will have to do...

The Raven and the racists! Just another day in the classroom....

I sat to take the roll this morning and there wasn't a spare spot on the carpet as they called out after the other, "here", "present", "good morning". Within seconds of completing the roll the floor was nearly empty as 19 of them excited the room leaving 11 in my presence. It was athletics day and they were off to compete.

I looked at this small group, while they looked back at me and smiled. What fun would we get up to today? :)

Firstly they agreed that it was time to be reacquainted with Raven! (just don't tell the other students who weren't there ;) )




We had the pleasure of meeting the author Wendy Orr during our writers festival, she was lovely and answered all the questions our budding writers could have possibly come up with :). We got to know Raven just before Wendy's visit and she's had our hearts pumping ever since! Even on the days when my cold made my voice nearly disappear they insisted that I read! I'm a sucker for a good book so you wouldn't have to think to long on what my reply was.

Soon enough it was time to get into the lesson of the morning. Heavy stuff, but we were up to this part of Australia's history...The White Australia Policy.
After trying to work out just what that meant we then watched and discussed a documentary brought out by ABC1 ( http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ptxlehKaBE4) .

Out of the 11 children in the room there were only 3 present whose ancestors have been in Australia for three or more generations. Many of my students have a recent history of immigration themselves. One of the things i I love about teaching children is their honest reactions and opinions of things occurring in their world. They are not afraid to say when they believe something is stupid or wrong or racist. They are not tainted by other peoples views and opinions and even if they are they still have the naivety of youth to believe that out of all opinions there's is the only one which is important anyway ;).

There was some wonderful dialogue while learning this morning, about how unfair it was that families were ripped apart and migrants were refused entry to Australia because they could not pass the immigration dictation test. A test that was designed specifically to fail them!

We were so engrossed in the discussion that rather than stopping just before the bell we were rudely interrupted by it.

As I walked out of the classroom behind them I couldn't help but wonder at the kind of peacefilled, equality driven world we would cohabit if we were governed by the rules and viewpoints of children!

The rest of the day was a lovely blur of real life maths, cooking toffees, designing posters and windy yard duty hugs and chats with little Preppies who walk along side me making the time fly by.

Our small, quiet group was bombarded at days end by a gaggle of sweaty, happy students with ribbons of first, second and third hanging from them. We smiled, congratulated them and caught up on their days events before.....

Is that the bell already???

The best thing of all is that we get to do it all over again tomorrow...on a Friday! our crazy canteen day where we serve nearly the whole school our prepared lunch order menu and make a squillion dollars for graduation ;).

What was your day like?

Marching on parliament...

Have you ever felt so tired you lie down and even if you have to get up again it involves serious negotiations with each limb and muscle involved in the move to coax them to be cooperative? That's me right now!

Today the two big kids and I went into the city, to Rod Laver Arena for the AEU Support Staff, Teacher and Principal strike.

Over 15000 teachers filled The stadium and marched through the city.




Approximately 400 schools closed completely for the day.

It was amazing being a part of such a large collective group of people all standing up for what they believe in!

My children felt proud to be a part of it, so proud that A1 told her whole dance class about her day only 2 minutes into the session!

I felt proud to be a part of it.

To find out more about the strike click in the following link:
http://keepthepromise.com.au/

What do you know about the teacher strike? What do you think of it?


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

The first acquired piece.....

We have a few special stores that we love to frequent, the kids and I. They are not your average stores and you cannot find them in in your average shopping centre. A couple of them are a part of a franchise but one is a little lone store with the most precious treasures of all due to the fact.

These stores sell a whole range of products. Books, furniture, clothing, toys, linens, electronics, jewellary...it almost sounds as though they are a mall onto themselves doesn't it? But there is one thing that sets them apart for your everyday super store....

Despite being a part of franchises they do not stock the same things. You are not guaranteed to find exactly what you are looking for when you go in nor are you guaranteed of the quality of items.

What you are guaranteed of is that you will walk out with your arms full and your wallet not Empty. You are guaranteed to get a feeling of exhilaration when searching through racks of clothes or bookshelves filled with books and you happen upon that item that you have longed for or perhaps never knew you always wanted!

The types of stores that I am talking about, if you have not already guessed, are opportunity stores..or more fondly referred to most often as Op shops. Stores which are specifically set up to sell second hand, pre-loved items at a discounted prices. With the profits from the items going to people in need.

One of our favourite Op Shops is a part of the Saint Vincent dePaul organizations shops. Being a larger store it stocks many items of furniture as well as clothing and books, toes, shoes etc. Little A2 lovingly calls it, "our op shop!". Anything near it or anyone going there is told how privileged they are to be near or to shop at our op shop. The kids love going in there and searching for treasures, playing with the toys and talking to the ladies volunteering on the day.

The last few times we have gone the children have gone straight to the couches and tried each one out. Like a page from Goldilocks and the Three Bears the commentary often involves talk of too lumpy, hard, soft, bright coloured as they search long and hard for that one perfect couch.

Two weeks ago they proclaimed that they had found it! Although it was a little squishy, upon test driving it, we discovered all of our tooshes fit on it at the same time. They oohed and ahhed at its softness and comfort. Little A was very excited over the secret storage area in it and that he fit perfectly along the storage bit, laying on his belly with his feet in the air.

As we moved on to other things, as we left the store and went about normal life, for days afterwards, they continued to talk about this couch.

When we entered the store this weekend past, they begged to buy it as it was still available. But I was still apprehensive. It was cheap but I hadn't done any research on sofas and so wasn't sure if it was worth what was being asked. Also it was clearly a piece of a bigger lounge suite and looked a little lost with its black connecting piece right at the front in plain view. I was also worried that although we all fit on it now, I didnt think in the future I would be able to say the same thing.

But the house we are moving to is very small and I couldn't deny that it would fit nicely in the lounge alcove.

I returned on Sunday without the children and sat on it, looked at it and thought about it...then left. I went to some major furniture sellers and was flabbergasted at the price of a brand new couch...even a small one!

On Monday during my lunchbreak I made a call to 'our op shop' and put on hold the couch the kids had begged for.

Today as we were working hard at school and work my Dad and brother picked it up and delivered it home. They couldn't get it inside and so the new couch is being stored at the moment...not in use. You should have seen the excitement on the children's faces when they first discoved it tonight! the pure joy in little A's voice as he realized that the secret storage area couch was ours, all ours! The sigh of comfort as Princess A sunk into it for the first time as her own couch and the pride beaming from K as he jumped around it.

Our very own couch..





It's not new, nor is it perfect. It clearly has signs of where it belonged to another piece..another family and lifetime but now there it is, out there alone, starting again with us.

The most perfect sofa/couch for our little family. We are about to start again, missing a piece but gaining so much, starting again, not perfect but perfect enough.

The perfect family member...the perfect celebration piece to start the next chapter in life.

Couch....welcome to our family!

xo




Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Stockpiling memories...

I've got no idea who Emily Rose is but if you click on the image you can have your own memory box. Although its a useless idea for my Nana and I...neither of us would remember where we put it!"


Right now as I type this lying in bed, longing for sleep, I should instead be coloring my hair. That chasm between the last hair color and the Greys growing in passed the point of 'not really noticeable' about a week ago!

It's pretty bad...and the thing is the hair colour box has been here for ages but I just haven't done it. I find it funny when people notice or I talk about my grey hair and they ask how old I am? For me age never really came into it. I first noticed grey hairs just after I had my first child...I was 26.

Truth is I think that early grey hairs run in my Mums family..like so many of our other connections. Get us in a room together and there is not much doubt as to our connected blood lines! Put the baby or toddler photos together of my mother, mine, my daughter, cousins..etc and you are hard pressed to identify who is who. We have much in common us lot!

Our habit of getting up to mischief whenever we are together, the crafty gene that is among us all, our penchant of being incredibly loud whenever we are in each others company. The best thing I believe is our sense of humour, be it black, sarcastic or normal? We know how to take the piss out of each other and make light of situations...even when they are not particularly humourous.

It's all these things that we have in common that has made me decide to not only blog again but to blog regularly about the everyday and our life. To record the journey we are taking as we make it on our own. I want a record for them and I to look back on of our days. I want to record just what it is like and feels like to be a teacher and the privilege I feel to do this job.

Not too long ago I imagined that I would always be able to tell my story, that I would always remember and rejoice in these times as either happy and fond times or times which make me wince but from which I grew and moved forward. But something has happened over this year which has made me think that perhaps it is fools gold to assume (when you assume you make an 'ass' out of 'u' and 'me') that I will always have such luxuries.

My beautiful, wonderful Nana was my before and after care program everyday of my primary school years. I would spend every holidays there too as my parents worked full time. She is the strongest and most beautiful person I know. She would tell me stories of bringing up her nine children that would fill me with awe. When I'd grown up and returned to visit weekly, she would dote on my babies, remembering every detail of our visits, laughing at our precious memories and retelling them to me through my baby years when I was too tired to even remember what day it was.

My lovely, wonderful Nan doesn't recite stories anymore, infact she often forgets things just after she has said them. She becomes confused very easily, by people and situations or things that do not seem right. She will repeat things....often. Her sister is the same, although her forgetfulness started before my Nan's at a time when she was aware enough to notice it her sisters memory loss. Now they have conversations on the phone nary remembering a detail once those conversations are complete.

There is yet a name for this and although we are all worried about it, when together we are coping in the best way we know how. To laugh and make jest of the situation for to do otherwise could see us crumble and that is just not something that the genes which she has passed through us all would ever allow!

So tonight, when I should be colouring my hair, or doing a load of washing or..sleeping (like 30 minutes ago when I started this!) I am instead writing this blog post. And tomorrow I will write another, and the next day another and another and another until I cannot write anymore. For these moments, thoughts, feelings, days...life...is so very precious.

Like a squirrel stockpiling nuts for the winter time, I'm on a mission to stockpile memories for days ahead when perhaps my own memory bank says "that'll do JAAK, that'll do!"

Fathers Day...

This morning I had two little people climb in the bed, one on either side and chatting over me. My big boy K looked at me and said, "Happy Fathers Day Mum!". My daughter looked across to him and said, "she's not a father, she's a mother!" . He just smiled at me and didnt reply to her, instead steering the conversation to something else.

A few moments later they'd exited the room leaving me thinking about Ks comment. I never thought for a second that there was anything about today's celebration day that had anything to do with me, but I guess in many ways I am also the Dad majority of the time. I'm the one doing it all with the kids, each and every thing, making the decisions, running the day to day.

Playing footy, cricket and jumping in puddles. Climbing play centre structures with them, washing the car, mowing the lawns and looking for bugs. Going on bike rides, building of forts and reading gross books. Teaching them to ride a scooter and bike without training wheels, to climb rock walls and climbing webs. Teaching them to pee standing up as best I can (verbally, not through example! :0 )

And although their Dad is still around and sees them every two weeks, including today, which was great for the kids it's nice to know that my big boy appreciates me not just as his Mum but as his sometimes Dad too :)

Happy Fathers Day to all the Dads or parents doing both jobs :).

The time machine has dumped me here, 9 years later!

I turned over in my sleep and experienced the sharpest back pain. I didn't think too much about the fact that it had diminished by the time I climbed back into bed and fell back asleep. But sleep didn't last long....my intended sleep-in lasted about 1 hour before yet again I was awoken with back pain. Sharp, stabbing pains in the back that couldn't be ignored.

I got up and showered and was curious to find that the pains came and went as I showered, but it couldn't be labour?....just some weird phenomenon! I was only 37.5 weeks pregnant and this was my first, besides all the books had said that the pain is in the front and is like period pains.

Within an hour my denial was diminishing quickly as I rocked on the fitball and had summoned my husband home from work!

Within two hours we were on our way to hospital.

The first nurse i saw while getting the antibiotic drip put in, was a lovely little chinese woman. As I began to moan through the pain she very sternly said to me, "Do not yell or scream! Take that pain and hold it in and allow it to make you stronger!". She became my Yoda. For the rest of the labour I did not scream and I felt the most I empowered and in control that I had ever felt In my life!

At 3.30pm I looked at the clock and exclaimed out loud that school would just be finishing and my Preps going home. I felt relieved I was missing the Monday night meeting. I Guess the 2.5 weeks maternity leave hadn't erased the work girl from me yet.

Half an hour later I told them that I had changed my mind. That I couldn't do this and would like to go home. They sweetly told me that just wasn't going to happen ;).

At just after 6 with just three pushes my beautiful first child entered this world. With a set of lungs he exercised strongly telling us for the first time (but certainly not the last!!) that he was here and he was perfect!
At 26 years of age I became a Mum.

Since that point he has not only guided me in my new parent role but has taken the world that I knew before and turned it on its head in a deliciously good way. He has made me a better and more compassionate teacher. He has given me an understanding and openness to discover and understand others that i never knew I possessed. He has opened my eyes to a wonderful new view of the world and his interactions with it.

He is my son and he is my world.

Happy Birthday my beautiful K-Man.




I hope today is all that you dreamed and that your beloved footy team win the game tonight for you.

As I squeezed you tight this morning and your sister said I was squashing you to death I loved your response that I better stop as you have another 90 birthdays to live after this one and don't want to die earlier than you should. I hope that I am there for as many of those as possible.

Love you to the moon and back 100 times Master K

xoxoxoxox Mum

My plug.....

He stands and watches, water dripping from his shivering body while his eyes are glued to the water surface.

I go about the job of drying him, warming him, as he gives me a commentary about which stage it's up to,"Mama! Mama! Its a tunnel now! No, Umm, what did you tall it? It's a....a.....ornado!" .

"tornado?"

"Yeh a nornado!"

Soon he stands dry and I wrap the towel around him as i sit and watch too. The body of water is sucked sharply towards the plug hole, spiraling violently down, diminishing to the size of a pin prick as it's rapidly sucked through and down into the pipe below.

He quivers with excitement. Arms flapping, legs jumping as he watches and squeals with excitement. Eyes barely blinking, not wanting to miss a single moment of the escaping water funnel.

I look at it once more, tired knees screaming in agony at my pose upon the ice cold tiles. Shoulders ache from tightness and fatigue. Eyes long to shut. Brain longs for release, a chance to talk about my day and things that have made up this jumbled, horrid week...but no person is available other than the small, dependent ones and so the brain keeps screaming for release as the heart feels heavy.

Water spiraling down...I can't help but think on days such as this that my life bares stark resemblance to the 'nornado'.....'spiralling down at a rapid pace'.

Lost in my thoughts as I am I do not notice that the moment is over. The last drop of water has disappeared and so too has my boy, leaving nothing but a towel and the moist shadow of footprints on tiles in his wake.

I slowly rise, tired feet placed one in front of the other on my quest to find my fleeing nudie boy. Soon I will slumber, block out the world, the horrid, the hard. But not before I take possession of three cuddles and give ten kisses on three beautiful heads.

For tonight and each day, they be my plug.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Sunshine, Wind...

Sunshine
Stretches long, thin fingers
Tickling necks
Heads
Warming hair
Little breeze tickling
Wind building
Stunts casual strolls
Hair wildly flying
Children frantically running
Screaming
Giggling
Playing
Tumbling
Fun
Fighting
Anger
Exploding
Spits of words
Faces of red
Ding goes the bell
Forget the lesson
Comfort and mediate instead
Sunshine
Wind
Combinations induce crazy kids

The pull...

Wednesday night I picked the kids up from aftercare and Childcare and we headed home in the dark. As we walked in the house my daughter handed me a note..

Hi J,

A1s eyes have been red all day. Maybe it's allergies? Just thought I'd let you know.
Her teacher


So after feeding the dog and grabbing some snacks we all got back into the car and headed to the doctors clinic.

We'd barely sat down before we were called in. After a quick examination it was determined that she had conjunctivitis. The next words were the ones which broke my girls heart..."no school tomorrow". She cried.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as we headed home with eye drops. The next day was the book parade, she was so looking forward to it. She loves school and given the choose would never stay home.

I was feeling a similar way. I had so so much to do at work. My class have just begun a cooking/lunch orders program. Last week we beat the previous years records for the whole year combined by receiving 100 lunch orders!! As I'd walked out that afternoon we already had 36 for this weeks Italian theme and I had plans to pre-cook the pizzas the next day. I also knew that more orders would come in. I needed to be at work...but I needed to be home too.

I needed to be home. That's what it came down to. I needed to be with my girl. So I made the call and my wonderful AP talked through with me how we'd handle the cooking and jobs that needed to be accomplished at work when i wasn't there. My colleague would step in and take a small group of students to cook them. She refused my offer to come in, kids in tow and do it. We worked it out.

As I hung up I thanked God for the workplace I'm at at this stage in my life. They're incredibly supportive and although I often feel guilty when I leave early for OT appointments for the boys or am late due to appointments..if need to take days off as I did in this case, the guilt only ever comes from me and not from them. They're supportive and understanding and care about the kids and I. I'm not just an employee, I'm a part of a caring community.

As I stayed home with my girl, struggling to get eye drops in her eyes throughout the day, snuggling her, playing waitress to her while she was in bed, I did at times receive calls from work. Those 36 lunch orders..well my prediction was right, they did increase...to 114! :0 . It's all sorted though, the AP and my colleague, they worked together to ensure it would all be ready for today (Friday) . I will walk in and simply need to reheat those pizzas and put the gelati in bowls and orders together. :)

Today my girl's heading back to school and I'm heading back to work. My guilt about not being at work when home or not being home when at work...well I don't think that will ever be gone completely. I care about my class and workplace too much not to worry about the impact my absence will have on them (that sounds a but conceited ~blush~ but it's a pattern that when I'm away the students don't cope so well and there are a few who really seem to get themselves into trouble on those days. I'm also working alone in yr6 as the only grade teacher and my colleague who stepped in is actually a leading teacher who has responsibilities across the school so to stop her program to take the kids for cooking is something im really grateful for).

My guilt which lies in the pull between home and work is made a little easier to deal with while I'm working in such a supportive school. As a single mother I can't express enough how incredibly important that is and how much easier that makes my life.

Do you ever feel guilty for working? Do you work in a supportive workplace?



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Single Mothering...

Today I was driving through my local area, running late to take my biggest boy to a birthday party and yet calm and content. As I drove through the suburbs the thought came into my head, "this single parenting thing isn't really that hard. I'm actually doing ok with this".

Fast forward to tonight, 8pm when I'm trying to get the boys dinner and took in my sick little girl, do dishes and am just then putting on the washing which I will need to stay up til late to dry also as its the uniforms and I'm so fraught with tiredness and stress that the thought comes into my head, "I totally suck at this! This is too hard! Too much for one person to do all alone!"

But, I put on my fancy dish washing gloves that I treated myself too when the dishwasher broke and got stuck into the dishes. I helped my boys bathe and into their pj's. Tucked them into bed, kissed and hugged them...turning away so I didn't witness them wiping the kisses away ;) and walked to their door ready to keep working when K stopped me with this..

"Mum...thankyou for everything today, it was the best day ever!"

From the boy who could not say thankyou in a solemn way, could not comprehend without much training why thankyou is used at all comes a solemn, self directed, heartfelt "thankyou".

That there, is so much louder than the self critical voice in my head. That there says, "I'm doing ok"

Oh and this job, it's damn hard but also so insanely wonderful. I've never felt closer to my kids and as in love with them as I do right now. In just one month it will be a year since I separated from my husband, a year of being a single mother. And although there are still many crying days and hard days I can say unequivocally that there are more happy days than before and the beautiful little people are who they are because of the change and not in spite of it.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

There are some nights when...

He doesn't even make it to dinner time!




Sound asleep in my bed watching The Gruffallos Child while I was getting dinner defrosted and cutting hair!

No wonder he didn't come when I called that it was his turn in the mama hair cutting salon ;)

School Mum, Awesome Aspies and puddles..

Yesterday morning I woke on the second alarm ring, having snoozed the first and cuddled up to my littlest man who'd snuck in an hour prior, steeling myself against leaving my warm doona to the fresh, coldness of the still early morning air invading the house.

My foot left the space of warmth for a second when I remembered, I'm going in late today. It didn't take much more than a nano second to pull that foot right back in and reset a later alarm!

When I did eventually get up I got to experience something which is normally an old distant memory...yesterday I got to be a school mum! No rushing out the door with toast eating in the car, thermos cups filled with tea and hot chocolates, dreary eyed children still wiping sleep from their eyes as I drive through the streets while dawn fully emerges from darkness. Instead my beautiful children woke in their time and TOOK THEIR TIME, savoring every minute on this lazy school morning.

An activity only ever indulged on weekend mornings was partook..




And they were delicious.

Eventually it was time to greet the traffic and drop them off. It didn't quite go smoothly, but we survived drop off and then headed to littlest mans appointment.

We walked past puddles on the way in, my pulling him away from them was met with threatened tears, I promised he could go thru them after...was I mad? Perhaps, but jumping in puddles is his ultimate life thrill..if only you could see the joy on his face you would understand :).

The Paed was late...or perhaps I should say he started our appointment late..anxious is not the emotion I wanted to be feeling as I walked into it!

There was much talk, much much much...so much Infact that I was very late into work and only got to be with my class for one lesson yesterday ~eek~

All that 'much talk' came to a definitive conclusion. My Littlest boy has Aspergers Syndrome.

Later that night, I told my big boy K and he shrugged his shoulders, no big deal. I told my girl and she said, "oh that means the boys are the same and I'm just like you!" This diagnosis in our family, well it's not a big deal really..no stigmas come with it, only cool differences and opportunities to play with truly wonderful people every two weeks (o.t etc) . My kids really innocently reacted to this news in a way I could only have dreamed they would feel about ASD three short years after we first got Ks diagnosis and that is with acceptance and love ...and I'm totally taking the credit for those attitudes! ;)

I felt relieved, I knew...I think I always knew and now I'm able to get early intervention funding and assistance for him. I love the little man he is and unlike this same experience three years ago with K I was not blind sided. My world didn't crumble at my feet this time because I have been given the wonderful gift of the understanding and teaching about Aspergers...from K. He is terrific, intelligent, happy, funny...he's everything I ever dreamed in a son and more. The only difference being that his path he's walking, the way he sees things and his interactions with the world are sometimes different to other peoples. He's taught me how important it is to appreciate each and every persons individual journeys and walk along with them with an open mind, ready to learn together.

The lessons his Aspergers have taught me are nothing to fear. We can do this together. I've got wonderful support people in my life, the boys do too. I'm able to help them deal with the things in the world which feel incompatible with them and shape the world to fit them ;). Sure life's a little harder sometimes....but who would want "she lived a dull life" written on their tombstone? ;) not I :).

So yesterday, I felt relief..and acceptance before reverting back to just pure, 100% love towards the boy walking beside me, my baby boy...my second Awesome Aspie!

Oh and those puddles? You can bet your partooty that he walked through them as I squealed mock disgust and he laughed genuine joy at the experience and his wussy Mama! A moment of pure joy etched upon his face...the wetness was well and truly worth it :).

Faces in the street...

I am currently teaching the students different types of poetry, with the objective being that they will write and publish their own poem about play in the upcoming whole school Writers Festival. It is a greatly celebrated event each year.

Yesterday I introduced to my year 6 students some of the works Henry Lawson. If you are unfamiliar with him, Henry Lawson was a famous Australian poet during the 1900s in Australia. In a bid to have me extend the time reading to them and therefore put off starting their work today ;) the students asked me to read the information at the beginning of the book about Henry Lawson and that then led us to read the poem which led to him becoming instantly famous... Faces in the Street:

Faces In The Street by Henry Lawson

They lie, the men who tell us for reasons of their own
That want is here a stranger, and that misery's unknown;
For where the nearest suburb and the city proper meet
My window-sill is level with the faces in the street
Drifting past, drifting past,
To the beat of weary feet
While I sorrow for the owners of those faces in the street.

And cause I have to sorrow, in a land so young and fair,
To see upon those faces stamped the marks of Want and Care;
I look in vain for traces of the fresh and fair and sweet
In sallow, sunken faces that are drifting through the street
Drifting on, drifting on,
To the scrape of restless feet;
I can sorrow for the owners of the faces in the street.

In hours before the dawning dims the starlight in the sky
The wan and weary faces first begin to trickle by,
Increasing as the moments hurry on with morning feet,
Till like a pallid river flow the faces in the street
Flowing in, flowing in,
To the beat of hurried feet
Ah! I sorrow for the owners of those faces in the street.

The human river dwindles when 'tis past the hour of eight,
Its waves go flowing faster in the fear of being late;
But slowly drag the moments, whilst beneath the dust and heat
The city grinds the owners of the faces in the street
Grinding body, grinding soul,
Yielding scarce enough to eat
Oh! I sorrow for the owners of the faces in the street.

And then the only faces till the sun is sinking down
Are those of outside toilers and the idlers of the town,
Save here and there a face that seems a stranger in the street,
Tells of the city's unemployed upon his weary beat
Drifting round, drifting round,
To the tread of listless feet
Ah! My heart aches for the owner of that sad face in the street.

And when the hours on lagging feet have slowly dragged away,
And sickly yellow gaslights rise to mock the going day,
Then flowing past my window like a tide in its retreat,
Again I see the pallid stream of faces in the street
Ebbing out, ebbing out,
To the drag of tired feet,
While my heart is aching dumbly for the faces in the street.

And now all blurred and smirched with vice the day's sad pages end,
For while the short 'large hours' toward the longer 'small hours' trend,
With smiles that mock the wearer, and with words that half entreat,
Delilah pleads for custom at the corner of the street
Sinking down, sinking down,
Battered wreck by tempests beat
A dreadful, thankless trade is hers, that Woman of the Street.

But, ah! to dreader things than these our fair young city comes,
For in its heart are growing thick the filthy dens and slums,
Where human forms shall rot away in sties for swine unmeet,
And ghostly faces shall be seen unfit for any street
Rotting out, rotting out,
For the lack of air and meat
In dens of vice and horror that are hidden from the street.

I wonder would the apathy of wealthy men endure
Were all their windows level with the faces of the Poor?
Ah! Mammon's slaves, your knees shall knock, your hearts in terror beat,
When God demands a reason for the sorrows of the street,
The wrong things and the bad things
And the sad things that we meet
In the filthy lane and alley, and the cruel, heartless street.

I left the dreadful corner where the steps are never still,
And sought another window overlooking gorge and hill;
But when the night came dreary with the driving rain and sleet,
They haunted me the shadows of those faces in the street,
Flitting by, flitting by,
Flitting by with noiseless feet,
And with cheeks but little paler than the real ones in the street.

Once I cried: 'Oh, God Almighty! if Thy might doth still endure,
Now show me in a vision for the wrongs of Earth a cure.'
And, lo! with shops all shuttered I beheld a city's street,
And in the warning distance heard the tramp of many feet,
Coming near, coming near,
To a drum's dull distant beat,
And soon I saw the army that was marching down the street.

Then, like a swollen river that has broken bank and wall,
The human flood came pouring with the red flags over all,
And kindled eyes all blazing bright with revolution's heat,
And flashing swords reflecting rigid faces in the street.
Pouring on, pouring on,
To a drum's loud threatening beat,
And the war-hymns and the cheering of the people in the street.

And so it must be while the world goes rolling round its course,
The warning pen shall write in vain, the warning voice grow hoarse,
But not until a city feels Red Revolution's feet
Shall its sad people miss awhile the terrors of the street
The dreadful everlasting strife
For scarcely clothes and meat
In that pent track of living death the city's cruel street.

 

 

One of the first statements made by one of my students was how weird the language was. He stated, "it is like he is talking about stuff we know but in a really weird and hard to understand way!."

This then led to discussions about the difference in language and also the difference connotations that words have taken over the years. As I completed reading it the first time I asked if there was anybody who could summarise what it was about? The room was silent. We then went back through the poem a line at a time.

My students are incredibly empassioned about the plight of their fellow humans and in particular have spent much time studying the drought in Niger, the Kony2012 campaign (and the subsequent information diffuting their intentions and have discovered other organisations they would rather support to bring about change for the same cause) . They are interested in the underdog and justice in the world. When they begin to break this poem down and translate it into a meaning for them they became incredibly interested in just what Henry is saying in this poem and the stance that he took in the first place in writing it.

They were shocked that even back then, there was a major division between the rich and the poor. They also left that lesson with a deep respect for Lawson and the stance that he took for those that had no voice at all.

 

Do you have a favourite Henry Lawson Poem?

Obsession of the sweetest kind...

My beautiful little boy turned 4 just two weeks ago. He is getting taller and stronger and learning more and more everyday.

Tonight he jumped into my arms when we got home from childcare and refused to let go. Like a little koala I carried him around the house before finally he agreed to let me go and watch the Gruffalo's Child while I cooked dinner.

This movie was something that he had wanted for a few weeks. Each time we saw it in the shops he begged for it and I said, "soon" . On friday night the big kids went to the school disco and my little man and I went on a dinner date to the local shops :) . We sat in the food court watching a free movie on the big screen set up for winter friday night viewings and then we went into the closest store which happened to be JB HiFi. It didn't take him long to find the dvd and begin the beg to own it. This particular time when I answered it was with a yes rather than no :) . He was thrilled.

His childcare teacher had introduced him to the book and the original movie and he had fallen in love with it. The dvd has been played so many times at home since then that I have lost count! When he becomes obsessed with something he really becomes obsessed :) .

Tomorrow morning we go to get the results of the Psychologists Autism Assessment at the Paed office. I am hoping that it is conclusive, that we have an answer and the assessment process will be over. We have already met a lovely Speech Therapist, we have had a terrific experience with the Psych which I will continue if need be...I am anxious to get started on helping him deal with the complexities that face him and his understandings of the social interactions and things in his world that don't quite make sense.

One thing I do know that makes perfect sense...he is perfect, totally, utterly, beautifully perfect and his Autism is just another part of that which makes him him. There is nothing to hate about that.

Time to face the change..cha cha changes!

My good friend MadMother has often used the analogy of riding a roller coaster when living with ASD. Every bodies lives have ups and downs but life with an Aspie often mean that one minute you think that you are sitting on the bench seat watching other people on the rides and the next second you are not only racing through the ride but it starts from the free fall position! The extremes and challenges are so much more extreme and challenging than in 'normal' life.

This post however is not about Aspergers, it is about my life and the extreme ups and downs that I have been riding. The highs of thinking that perhaps it would all be ok, the lows of realizing that it won't work out the way I envisioned. Making plans, setting goals and having them break over and over again. Each time I believe that I can't get up anymore I do anyway. I get up and I look at everything again and i try to work it out as best as I can and I hope it turns out....and it doesn't.

Last night I discovered that I would be starting all over again once this house is sold. I dont mean that I am getting a fresh start or am referring to beginning in a new house, I essentially mean that I am starting out ALL OVER AGAIN as though I was fresh out of school going from a part time crappy job while going through Uni to a proper job and having to figure out how to live and stand on my own two feet! Except this time around there is no fiancée and no excess cash in the pay packet. Instead there are three children and nearly enough to get by and just little enough not to that i can use my juggling skills to manage (I am glad I taught myself to juggle two balls in my youth, even if I couldn't master three!)

I had a complete and utter panic attack. A freak out over the magnitude of what this will mean to the kids and my life. Of what this means to our everyday and I can honestly say that there were so many moments when I felt like just giving in to it all. Of giving up. Fighting is hard....giving up is easy. Lying down and saying that you can't do it anymore seems so appealing. No more fighting, no more hard work...just quit. If we will be living in poverty anyway then why should i slave my life away? I'll just join the over stretched public waiting lists for OT and SPEECH and PSYCH for the boys and save my hip pocket. I may as well stop working too right? Put my hand out for benefits and while I'm at it I'll dump that very expensive health cover and rely only on the free public system! Giving up seems very appealing....I am so tired from fighting....

But I am NOT a quitter! I Don't give up! I crumble and don't sleep, I watch bad movies and tune out the world until finally I can get up and start thinking and planning and hoping again. With the help of my good friends I take a step forward and I start to live once more.

Today we had a family through the house that liked it a lot! Maybe this time tomorrow this house will be sold? Maybe it won't too. It is something to hope for but not a contention of joy considering that it may not sell for the desired amount. But it is a step in the right direction.

Tonight, sitting watching ABC3 with my babies and on the net at the same time I started browsing through real estate. My daughter looked over my shoulder and said how a yard was too small or this or that wasn't right in a house. She was critical...she was looking for the match of this house. K sat there too..the smallest houses he found the biggest positives to. For each perceived flaw he was able to explain it away. He is excited. The buy button and rent button were both clicked. He is excited about this potential change...I am too, even if it may come along a path of worry and hardship...it is the future and the future can only lead to better things.

Sitting next to my babies tonight I remembered the thing that kept me awake the most the night before. Not the money, the fighting, life..it was the worry that I'm not strong enough for them! That I am not going to be able to supply ad be all that they need. What if I can't work? What's will happen to us then without money? What about the therapies, Hama I helping the boys enough? Is my daughter getting enough time? Am I doing enough/ good enough/ STRONG ENOUGH? The fear that I won't be enough to get through it....well it was answered tonight by a voice I haven't heard in a very long time. A voice that said you are and you will be TOUGH ENOUGH!

Whatever it takes, however hard it will be, this is our life and I will fight damn hard to make it good enough and happy enough....we, my kids and I, deserve nothing less than that and so much more!

A solumn look....

She had that look on her face again, the look of despair, the solumn look, sunken eyes and doubt flickering across her features as to whether she could talk to me or not.

I asked the question, "Are you ok?" and she shook her head. I asked the question, "do you want to talk about it?" and she hesitated, "can you talk about it?" and she shook her head. As the tears rolled down her cheeks I held her in my arms and rubbed her back. I offered not the meaningless words, "it will be ok" for I did not know what 'it' was or if 'it' ever would be. Instead I just held her.

Days went by, weeks, months and the look would happen infrequently and the tears would fall and I would hold her. I would fret and worry for her and watch her, always watch to see that she was ok. I would make her eat and I would make her laugh and smile sometimes...other times I would give her a look, just a small smile to let her know, I am here.

It was a freezing, cloudy morning the day she finally burst and stated that she just could not take anymore. With help and guidance for all involved she was able to talk and we were able to start helping. The smile started to come back a little on her face....a little more she began to laugh and enjoy life.

As the holidays wound around I wished her a happy break and she smiled at me. I don't know whether that is possible....I sure hope it is. I worry for her.

There's an expectation that I too will begin to move beyond the low down look. That I will look beyond the negative surrounding and as I have given the advice to her to do, I am expect to embrace and run only with the positives in life. It is what is needed, that much I know to be true. I can, very often I can do this, but to be able to do it 100% I just don't know how.

The last few days I have been incredibly upset and experiencing a feeling of lost hope. Our lives are on a stand still just waiting for all of these things to happen and it feels as though they never will. No amount of positive thinking or positive tracking will change the circumstances which are ruling our lives at the moment. No amount!

It hurts. I cannot say that it cannot and so often I feel like all I need is someone, somewhere to just occasionally hold me, to not want to fix me but just instead to hold me and to silently understand that life sucks right now. It is hard and it hurts and it sucks. It feels as though everywhere I turn it is collapsing ontop of me. I just need someone....someone to see and to not expect anything from me because they see...but to simply just understand.

And there are people...people who do understand and who care deeply and that makes me feel bad. I have ceased writing because I know that the people who read here are not faceless entities that have stumbled here accidently through a google search but instead the majority are people who know me, and care for me and who I do not want to cause worry to. They are people who I imagine will feel bad reading my words, who will either turn the screen off after reading because they have no idea what to say, or who will try and help...when I feel and I know there is nothing anyone can do to help. There is no fixing this.

I appreciate the care and the help, but it also makes me feel guilty. When told to focus on the positive I know that is a form of help being offered and believe me I do. I have a multitude of photos on my phone, quotes of life views I long to embrace and to remember and I read them often. I am not sitting doing nothing, I am seeking help, I am talking...trying to heal and trying to live this new life. It is hard...I am trying.

I try to make plans, I budget and I plan and I try and work out the best scenarios for my and the kids lives. The best ways to move forward and out of this funk that the marraige break up and the subsequent events has left us in. I try to forsee all that can occur and prepare for it. But what I was not prepared for at all was life....or more to the point...other peoples lives....prospering and moving forward into bigger and better things and all the while here we stand...sit or on some days sink...further and further down we sink.

And I fight, I fight so damn hard. I work my arse off for what I am trying to make for them, a future. Enough money to live. For therapies to help them out. For assessments to determine if my littlest man is an Aspie too (he is, one diagnosis...he is) and to get him help. Moving forward and yet standing still. Standing still because I knew, it changes nothing, I knew. He will get funding and hopefully the worse we are enduring right now will reverse and his happy, coping demeanor will return...pray god it will return. In the future...we will move forward, right now we stand still.

Standing still with nothing. Fighting battles I cannot win against the economy and against my ex and against life.

I have friends who want to know, I don't write and I don't talk not because I do not want to tell them, I want nothing more than to tell them and to talk and to cry and to get it all out but it hurts when I do. It hurts their life and it hurts their hearts and that hurts mine. Their lives are good and happy and moving forward, beautiful things happening and life going on and I am happy for them and I do not want to impact on that so I stop. I stay silent and I say nothing. I just move through the days and the nights and try to do the best I can no matter what....alone. Because the pity looks, the silence when I finish talking as they try and decide what to say, the frustrations that flicker across a face before it's replaced with compassion...the impact of me on them.....it hurts and so I stay silent.

My children need a strong mother. Not just strong enough to deal with and get through the days...they need a mother who can make life move forward and although I am doing all the things that are physically needed to do that...my soul doesn't believe in a brighter day right now and I worry that they know, see and sense that. I worry that they too will spend their days in the future with 'the look' upon their faces.....I would do anything to prevent that.

There are days like today, when they are off having a wonderful time...when I am home alone and spend most of the day crying that I wonder how, when, if ever...?

I so long for the connection...but right now....I am not good for anyone...

When she comes to me with that look in her eyes, on her face, with tears streaming down her cheeks it is not through study and tutition that I know how to handle the situation...it is through the heart, for I know, I feel, I am there too!

Change of Focus needed...

When I took on full time work, having worked out the budget as it stood as a part time worker, and how it would possibly stand as a full time worker it looked like such a good move. And yet...here I am looking at the same situation that I was in..although I guess the positive is that I am able to get my youngest son diagnosed privately at the moment (even if it has taken the meagre amount of money I had left over at the end of every week and drank it down like a person dying of thirst!)

I could choose to give up and be in a funk...or I could just accept that this is life and try to make the most of it. This being a conundrum that I have had more than once over the last two days...for different topics and which I think I actually need to make steps to improve.

My children are right now disapointed little people at being let down (and just when they were beginning to trust again too!) by not being taken out tomorrow. Every fibre of my being wants so desperately to take them out somewhere to make it up to them and take their minds off the heartache, but this week (fortnight/lifetime..) that isn't an option. There is also the problem that I have a HEAP of work to do that simply has to be done (school reports) which I had planned to sit and plow through while they were out...I simply cannot put them off or ignore them. So..instead of going out I will make staying home as interesting and as fun as possible.

1# I am going to devise a treasure hunt to occur in the backyard or in the house. I will draw a map and have them work together to find items and to put together a puzzle of things that they can choose to do as a prize for working it out which will be:

- go on a bike ride
- go for a walk with the dog to the playground
- watch movies with popcorn

All free and all doable.

I will schedule my report writing around them. Pretty much my exciting Saturday night in is now planned ;) as is my early morning wake up on Sunday to try and get through them.

2# the budget is whacked...so instead of worrying about it and all that it doesn't have in substance, I am going to attempt to shift my focus to all it does contain. I am going to make myself feel pride when watching the swimming centre take some of my funds this afternoon rather than feel dread at it's departure because I have worked damn hard to pay for the swimming lessons the children attend. I am going to feel pride that I can pay for my son's social group sessions rather than dread as it too is sythoned from the account. Pride....mmmhmmm

I think a part of this is also a change in focus as to the skills I have to get us through and by on what we have. Actually writing about this and looking at what I do do in a positive way will eventually help me I think. Holidays are coming up soon...expect to see some blog posts about that ;) .

3# things of which I cannot control..... I find myself so cross so often at the actions of another and the impact that it has on the children's and my life. Instead though, I am going to focus on our life and plan to do things and to live it and not worry so much about the other stuff. To finally accept the way it is, not accept the words or even the documents stating behaviours to come, but instead accept from past experience how I really think it will be. To help my children cope with the way things are also and become loving, caring, resilient, strong little people despite it and not the opposite because of it!

4# Give myself a Break! When you're closest friends and the professional you pay to help you all tell you you are a perfectionist who wants to do everything perfectly and beyond 100% and that you need to give yourself a break...that instead, focus on what really needs doing and what you are doing ok, rather than striving for the moon....well eventually it seeps in a little and you find yourself listening. I am going to accept, while we are going through all of this and life is so ridiculously busy that doing ok is good enough.  

(and just incase it wasn't clear I am convincing myself as much as you of all the above ;) )

~ Jaak

Who do you think you are?

There are many bloggers who I manage to read in my busy weeks. Their blog update title pops up in the RSS feeder on my phone and I get a little excited and click it the minute I can. One of those people is Eden Riley of Edenland. It is her honesty and beautiful, caring heart that shines through each and every post that keeps me going back. I really feel like I am getting the genuine person...not any bullshit bravado :) .

Today she asked the question, "Who do you think you are?" as part of her fresh horses meme.

 
It got me thinking....

Who do I think I am?

I am the woman who started this post 30 minutes ago and then stopped when my youngest came in scratching his head, did the baboon nit-finding search in his hair, discovered some and put a treatment through it.  You can call me the NIT HATER, because I hate the little things and cannot seem to win the war against them! Between school and childcare I feel like all I am ever doing is eradicating them from hair follicles!

I am a single woman after being in a monogamous (ha ha...my side of it anyway) relationship since the age of 18! I am not quite sure what it even means to be one again. I feel like the package I will be presenting future suitors is far too complex for anyone to consider..and yet I hope within the depths of my heart that that is purely synacism and that one day...one day I might not be single anymore.

I am a single Mum. A Single Mum. One of my good friends referred to me as one to another person the other day and it shocked the shit out of me for a minute. My breath stunted and my eyes widened and then I relaxed once more. It is true, but that was the first time that anyone had said it about me, to me and it sounded foreign. Like a piece of clothing that I hadput on for the first time but didn't quite fit into comfortably yet and then someone had turned the spotlight on me and suddenly the whole room was looking at me..in the outfit...and I had to make a quick decision to go forward confidently or falter..I moved forward confidently...kind of. Being a single Mum is not much different to being the Mum I was before if I am completely honest. I did everything myself, with the kids at nearly all times. In fact since being seperated from my husband I have had more time away from my children than in the whole 8 years I have been a Mum...and that is when they have their time with their Dad! (which has not been a large amount of time I can assure you :( ). Being a single Mum is hard, it means missing out on some things because I cannot just go out (never really could without begging and then having to listen to how lucky I was to be allowed to go while married anyway) whenever I am invited to something without ensuring I have a babysitter first. I make all the decisions (EEK), I do all the work (EEK), I get all the LOVE (awww) . Being a single Mum compared to being a married one in my instance at least, is a hell of a lot of fun :) .

I am a learner of Aspergers daily. My sons (one confirmed, one going through diagnosis now) have Aspergers Syndrome which is on the Autism Spectrum and they are absolutely awesome. No really, I am not just saying that because they are my sons, there is something about the Aspie brain which I find absolutely fantastic. I love being able to share every single day with these gorgeous boys and see the world through their rainbow tinted eyes. They think differently, see things differently and are so much more honest than most of the rest of the world. They call a spade a spade and to do anything differently than this they need to learn why and how and then....then they need to choose to, because they want to, and not because we as a society tell them too. They are sensitive and caring, intrinsic and clever and funny..humourous...and awesome to have around if you want to know the specifics of a past event or how something works ;) . They are also timid and shy at times and the life of the party at others (but only a party that contains people they love and are comfortable with) . I love my boys and their Aspergers. Sure sometimes it is hard, especially when they are over stimulated and result in meltdowns which can be violent and loud and scary and hard to handle...but I am also sometimes envious of the fact that their bodies and brains make them do this to relieve the tension..seems like a lot better alternative than bottling it and then losing it in a crumbling mess as I tend to do ;) . They have made me a better humanitarian.

I am a Mother to a daughter. I have a girl who lights my world with a switch ranging from dimming to shimmering brightness. At just 6 she is articulate and so much older than she seems. She can calm her brothers with her words and her touch (she can also incense them! Well they are her brothers) . When things need doing she will be there beside me doing them. She doles out hugs and kisses when required and similarly asks for them when needed. To watch her dance and sing and love every moment of life is a glimpse into the meaning of life. She feels so much and so deeply that sometimes life is hard for her, slights of friendship can break her heart and tiredness can make everything seem just too much. She is my shadow and reflection. At times infuriating me so much in the stubborness that is my genes shining through. At others making me laugh and smile so much my cheek muscles ache. She is my hard girl, my gorgeous, confident, strong girl. She is 6...a fact I have to constantly remind myself as she is far far older than that and always has been. I am lucky.

Who do I think I am? I am a chameleon. The emotions and actions of others seep in and alter my own until I mirror their feelings, I feel their pain, their joy...I worry far too much and I feel far too deep. I do not watch the news and I limit what I see for what I see and care for effects me deeply...I am too sensitive and too caring and my best friends tell me they see that under a positive rather than negative lamp.

I am a crier. I cry and cry in the car, in the house, in the dark...when noone is looking and noone is there I sob and crawl into the fetal position as the waves and waves of black wash over me and the loneliness seeps right through every fibre of my being until there is nothing but a wide gaping hole of empty. I carry it at times like a cloak, wrapped tight yet letting the biting cold wind shatter through my thin shield of resistance! It holds nothing but torment and pain. My friends tear pieces off with their words and their love. The kisses of my children, the hugs they demand, legs wrapped around waste, little fingers linked and squeezed tightly together, knuckles turned white..never to let go. The shield dissipates a bit. I've spent majority of my life willing tears to come...now I will them to stay far away (they don't listen!).

I am a survivor. I don't think that I am most of the time but then I become aware of the feeling, the sound of the beat as it steadly beats on. gagoong, gagoong, gagoong. It beats and not just in myself but in three other beings.  Therefore I see and I know that I am a survivor, for we are here and we are functioning and living and getting on with life despite the changes and the hard times....we are living. Our hearts beat on. I am a survivor.

I am a teacher. I teach children in Primary school to read and write, to cook and to explore, to question and to learn, to laugh and I hug them when they cry. I spend more awake hours with other peoples children than my own and I love them as though they are my own. Their pain hurts me, their fights challenge me, their smiles electrify me. I joke a lot with them, I tease in jest and I compliment in real and we learn.....we learn all day every day and it is fun and wonderful. I have seen one of Earth's greatest wonders...the gleam of learning when it hits for the first time, the spark in a childs eye as they suddenly learn something they have struggled with for so long. It is a miracle, it is wonderful...it is worth more than the pay packet I get paid to see it. I get to read the most amazing stories, ideas, thoughts from our future leaders and I feel privilaged to do so. I get to meet their parents and tell them how much I think they are doing a great job, share their child with them, help them, teach them and learn from them. There isn't much to not love about that. I get to be a different me when with them and I like that me.

I am a friend...a best friend to a group of very very few. Women who inspire me in every action they take and caring thought they share. I am privy to a few of the most wonderful people on Earth and I wont give them up for anything. I listen...I often, so very very very often do not feel good enough to claim them as mine, to be listed as their friend and I so very very very often tell them that they are far too good to tolerate my rollercoaster of a life and take on the role they have in it. They so very very often tell me to shut up when I say so.

I am so many different things. I am me and sometimes I have no idea who that is at all. Sometimes I hate the person that I am. Sometimes I am not good enough for anything that I do, for the people that surround me, for the job I do nor the children I am bringing up...sometimes I am not good enough for this life. The glasses I wear sometimes are incredibly incredibly harsh.

Who do I think I am? I think that I am a woman that is one day going to look back on this time in her life and realise that all the happiness and love and joy that surrounds her at that moment is a result of this turmoil and pain and journey. I think one day...this mess will be a distant memory but the person who I will be will not be possible without going through it. So I will continue to wade through it..one long or super fast minute at a time....

As Dory would say, "Just Keep Swimming...."