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.



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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?



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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.


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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?