Ch ch ch ch changes

I am sitting outside in the relative cool of the evening, playing chicken with the mosquitoes. The sky is hazy with smoke and I cannot see the hills beyond the suburbs like I usually can. I don’t know where the fire is.

It’s nice to take some time to sit alone and think. February is my favourite month and I find myself thinking of February’s past. A lot has happened during the last 12 months. It’s been quite a year.

February 2012 marked the beginning of the pregnancy which gave us Joel. He is three months old now and we are all enjoying him as babies are meant to be enjoyed – that is, he is being thoroughly lavished with attention from us. Lucky boy with lots of siblings to fuss over him.

We celebrated our 13th wedding anniversary last week in what was one of the toughest weeks of our marriage so far I reckon. I suppose it’s because our marriage might now be considered a petulant teen. Or it could just be cracks showing the strain of the extra weight of a new baby, a new country, and some stressful issues all at once.

Moving back to Australia has been a good move for our family and I don’t regret it for a moment, but at the same time I wouldn’t call it easy. Not that others don’t have it harder. But still…I took some strain this year.

Probably the hardest thing has been the kids missing their friends and lacking buddies to play with during the week. Because we home school and they don’t get a ready made bunch of friends at school, making friends is something we have to be proactive about. There are plenty of active home schooling groups here with friendly people and fun, interesting activities, but I just haven’t had the energy to consistently get involved and really get connected. This also means we haven’t had the support that I think is essential to home schooling working, especially with a large family. It does take time. I know this. And we gave it just over 6 months. We still sorely miss our NZ friends.

I kept thinking that soon I will feel better…ever moving the goal posts…”it will be easier when the baby is born”…”it will get better once we’re through the new born stage”….”I just need a good night’s sleep”…”we’re just having a rough week”.

But there were too many rough weeks in a row, and we always said that we would regularly assess what is the best educational choice for the children . I haven’t had the energy to do the home schooling thing well, and that just isn’t fair on the kids. D & I also struggled to find time to be together to talk and were taking strain. I came to the sobering and a little painful conclusion that I am burnt out. Its the kind of tired that takes more than a few good sleeps to fix.

So we decided it would be best for everyone if we enrolled the children in school. The boys started last week and Emma will start next term. I don’t know if it will be permanent. I can’t think too far ahead right now. But so far I can say that it was definitely a good decision. They are settling in really well especially considering this is their first experience of school.

Actually now with just three at home during the day I really don’t know myself.  It’s been great though and when the others come home I am excited to see them which is the kind of Mum I know is inside me but who has been missing in action for a while.

I am consciously taking time to look after myself. I feel like I need to recover and that will take time and kindness. I have started journalling my way through to the other side. I might share some of that with you as I go.

The build up to labour

It’s a sunny 29 degrees here in Adelaide today. Ryan is outside playing in the sprinkler, something that we used to do as kids and is a novelty for our children. I don’t recall ever having to water the lawn in New Zealand. Here already the grasses are looking dry and we haven’t even hit summer yet.

Due to the warmer temperature and the imminent due date of this baby, I am rather puffy. My ankles disappear on hot days and my toes are like little sausages. In addition to this minor complaint, I have felt a steady and powerful build up of anticipation and  hormones. It feels a bit like the build up to a monsoon. Each day gets more intense, but you’re never sure if you’re right on the brink or if you still have days or weeks to go. Not my favourite experience. Anyway, I have compiled a list of things that every day become more evident as the birth approaches. Here’s hoping labour is just around the corner.

 

Insomnia

As evening approaches, I feel increasingly tired. I get ready for bed as usual, wind down with a book, tuck in to sleep and then it begins. Overwhelming and persistent restlessness.

It starts with wriggling to try to get comfortable with the gargantuan baby bump in the way. There are only two sleeping positions remaining. Left side or right side. Right side is generally out because I have the increasing need for feeling space in front of me and the claustrophobia of facing the middle of the bed forces me back onto my left side.

Then I get hot feet, so I stick them out the side. Then my legs get cold. Then I get restless leg syndrome and simply can’t keep still. Then inevitably, the baby starts wriggling uncomfortably. Or I get heart burn. Or thirsty. Or need to pee. And so it goes on. I get up and try all manner of things. Have a drink, go to the toilet, change clothes, have a shower, read a book, listen to music. It doesn’t seem to matter what I do, nothing settles me. It seems as though my body is simply determined and it WILL NOT SLEEP until the clock ticks around to approximately 1am.

Last night it was 1:45am…I climbed back into bed after a middle of the night shower and finally drifted off to sleep. This of course is all perfect preparation for the nights when I’ll be up with a baby who also simply WILL NOT SLEEP.

The Belly. How I see it.

Mood swings

One minute I’m feeling happy, energetic, motivated and positive about the birth. Then a family member happens to leave crumbs on the counter, or drips water on the clean floor, or leaves toys scattered about under my feet then beware of Hulk Mum. Screeching scoldings follow, and rants about having ‘Just cleaned this house!’ and “FIVE minutes! Can’t it just stay tidy for FIVE minutes?!” The tone of voice is piercingly unpleasant and whiney, the facial expression is dark and scary. 

Hell hath no fury.

But wait…only a few moments after the Hulk attack, scary Mum dissolves into a puddle of tears and slumps down on a chair and weeps out apologies for the rage. I feel like a terrible mother and wonder what I am doing with all these children and how on earth I am going to cope with another. I sniffle away for a while. The children are getting used to it and offer hugs or just quietly walk past and tell their Dad matter-of-factly “When I walked past Mum she was crying”. Which leads me to the next two.

 

Weeping

I think I have cried every day for the last 7-10 days. Under normal circumstances, I’m not a frequent crier. But wow. Various things can set me off at the moment.

At our trip to the beach last weekend, I cried because I wanted to swim, but it was a bit cold for me, so I cried in the hot sun for about 25 minutes at my own pathetic-ness.

The other day I cried because Ben was catching flies with his bare hands, and put one it a jar. It died and spawned all it’s disgusting little larvae out into the jar and the kids showed me. I cried because it was repulsive to me “Get it out! Get it out of the house, it’s disgusting!” I said as I burst into tears at the sheer yuckiness.

I cry when I realise how moody and difficult I am and how kind my husband and family are to put up with me so patiently.

I cry when I feel overwhelmed at all the things that are on over the next 2 months. Birthday (four of them), end of year events, Christmas, and of course a birth.

And when it all gets too much, I cry because I’m so tired of crying all the time. Yes. I know.

 

Nesting

Today I woke up feeling tired from lack of sleep, and could quite happily have spent the day in bed. However, around mid-morning, an overwhelming desire to have a clean and tidy house came over me and I found myself cleaning, sorting and tidying obsessively. Again, under normal circumstance, while I like clean and tidy, I’m not a clean freak. Today however, I want to rid my house of every grain of dirt, every dust bunny under the beds, and every grubby mark on the walls. I’ve wiped and swept and tidied random items away. I couldn’t wait a moment longer, and set up the birth pool, laid out towels and sheets and blankets and prepared baby clothes. The family are all well aware that the house has to stay tidy at all times because (and I quote Hulk Mum verbatim) :

“The labour will only start when everything is ready, so the house has to stay tidy all the time or the baby will NEVER come!”

And Hulk Mum believes that implicitly.

 

Tricky imposter contractions and twinges

By this I mean any of the following sneaky little things that make you feel like labour might actually be starting.

• Braxton Hicks contractions
• Sharp jabs and pains in the cervix (sorry)
• Lower back ache

These come and make themselves known, and just when you start to have a flicker of hope that Operation Deliver Baby is “Go for Launch” they all stop immediately and snicker away delighted that they have fooled you yet again. It’s worse now that it’s my 5th pregnancy and those sneaky little buggers STILL get me. Every. Single. Time.

Preoccupation with labour

Bet you can’t guess what I’m thinking about?

99% of the time I am thinking about the birth. The baby. The labour. The signs of labour.

Is everything ready? Will everything go smoothly? What time will it all happen? Will the children be good and happy throughout? Will the baby be in a good position? Will I bleed to death? Will I cope with the pain? Will the baby be normal? Will the midwife respect my wishes? Will I freak out or have a Hulk Mum attack during the labour? Will I ever go into labour? Will I be pregnant forever? Will the baby be ok? Will I deliver naturally? Is that a contraction I am feeling? Is it going to be today?

Etc. etc. ad nauseum.

Hence this post.

 

So who knows? It could be today, tomorrow or next week. These bizarre behaviours will continue to increase (God help us) and the intensity will build and build and I will cry and tantrum. But then suddenly it will be all happening and then it will be over and I’ll come back here all serene and euphoric and maternal, and tell you all about it.

The Shack

So while in the vicinity of Wallaroo, we also visited The Shack. This has belonged to my family for some years…don’t really know how many but more than 35. Over the years it has been used for countless holidays and fishing trips. It’s takes a lot of work to maintain and hasn’t been used for several years now, so we went to see what sort of condition it was in.

Here’s some pics of the day.

Lovely to see my kids playing among the same rocks I spent hours of my childhood…looking for tiny rock crabs, hiding from everyone else, and day dreaming looking out to sea.

As you can see, it’s a picture of absolute serenity, disturbed only by the near perpetual howling wind and thousands of sticky persistant flies, one of whom found itself in the right place at the right time. Probably because they are so highly skilled at always being right in front of your face.

On our way back we spotted two Sleepy Lizards (ironically both moved away before we could get the camera) and two snakes. Here’s a blurry picture of one of them. It’s not clear enough to be sure but I think it might be an Eastern Brown Snake. It was around a metre long, not very fat, and brownish greenish -ish. Or something.

This isn’t the lizard we saw on the road, this is the one of about 3 that we have seen living at our house. Here he is jammed in between the rubbish bin and the fence. It’s a Blue-tongued lizard, often called a Sleepy Lizard.

 

A few days in Wallaroo

A last minute decision to get out of the house for a few days resulted in a two night get away to Wallaroo, which is about 160km north-west-ish of Adelaide. I was born there and spent a fair chunk of my childhood there. There are a thousand memories.

We stayed in a caravan park in a cabin that we splurged on a bit, but it was worth it for the ease and comfort of a late planned trip. We were right on the beach front and not being school holidays the beach was pretty empty. We arrived Sunday afternoon and left on Tuesday, so mostly avoided the weekender visitors too, and really appreciated the space.

The weather was beautiful…sunny and warm to hot with not much wind, and the kids spent heaps of time at the beach. Here’s some of the many pictures.

This enclosure next to the main jetty is the Wallaroo Pool and is where I learned to swim as a child. It used to have a net, presumably to keep sharks out (or perhaps to keep the children in?) but now only the cable remains. The first time I ever jumped off a jetty was here, and only did it so I wouldn’t get caught in a game of ‘chasey‘ (tag) and I remember screaming to my cousin “Push me!” because I was too chicken to actually take the leap. She did it.

And looking back the other way towards the silos.

Ben jumped from the little platform by himself.

The main Wallaroo jetty with grain conveyer to the left.

We stopped at the bakery for Cornish Pasties for lunch, but despite it being the busy lunch hour, they weren’t ready yet, so we had to settle for regular ones. Sheesh…drive all the way to Wallaroo for a Cornish Pasty and they don’t have any.

This is my late Nanna’s house which we discovered is for sale again. It’s a weird feeling to look at it now that someone else owns it. The fig tree that all the grandchildren played in as children is still there in the backyard (I peeked). So familiar that I wanted to wander on in, and yet it belongs to someone else. Very strange.

There is a lot of new development on the north side of town, and as we drove out that way I was trying to show the family where my Nanna grew up. I was disorientated due to the new developments and roads and couldn’t place it. Later on our way home we spotted this brand new road by chance. My grandmother’s maiden name was Hopgood, and she grew up with her 9 siblings on a farm in this area. It’s pretty cool to see that the town planners considered the local history when naming the new roads. I’m still not sure of the exact location of the original property, but perhaps it’s right here.

Back to the beach after exploring the town with heaps of space to run free.

Good night. We also visited the family shack for a quick look which is sort of like our family’s very own Bonnie Doon. More on that, as well as some snakes tomorrow.

I went to see Bill Bailey

Last week I had my first experience of a live comedy show. I had heard of Bill Bailey and seen a little of the show Black Books, but this was a whole ‘nother experience. It was at the old Thebarton Theatre.

It was such fun…we laughed for almost the entire show. If you ever get the chance, it’s worth going to see him live. He’s articulate, intelligent and very quick. Obviously stand up comedy is largely prepared material, but some of the best moments were ad-libbed and very fast responses to the crowd. Brilliant man.

It was a really great night out, which included his not-too-shabby musical talents and lots of laughs in a great venue.

Here’s a little something from a while ago.

Pregnancy Dreams

What IS it with pregnancy and very strange and vivid dreams?

Two nights ago I had a dream that I was back in high school. There were three main parts to the dream.

• I was given an A+ in an economics assignment because I brilliantly debunked the trickle down theory. I distinctly remember using this graph in my essay.

• I was asked out to the movies by someone I have always liked. I can’t mention his name because he’s an actual living person, (not my husband) and it would all be a little awkward.

 

• Billy Connolly played a hilarious game of soccer on the front oval at my high school. 

In the dream it all made perfect sense. Such is the way of the pregnant woman’s night mind.

The Books of My Childhood

Last night I was thinking about buying a gift for a friend’s young child, and I thought how I didn’t want to buy clothing or toys that might not last, but something more lasting. And I got to thinking about books and how they have such a lasting impact, planting the seeds of the earliest imaginations. I started thinking about which book every child should get to read…which made me drift back to my childhood…. and these are the books I read as a young child that I can still remember to this day.

A Fish Out of Water – Helen Palmer

This is the story of a little boy who gets a goldfish, and is warned by the pet shop man not to overfeed it. And true to human nature, the urge to test it out and see what happens is too great. Alas, the goldfish is over fed, and grows and grows, until as you can see by the picture, it out grows not only his bowl, but the bath and the entire house. Great rhyming story and illustrations that capture the imagination. It struck the fear of overfeeding gold fish into me, so I guess there was a lesson there too.

The Bunyip of Berkeley’s Creek – Jenny Wagner

A very sweet story of the mythological Australian Bunyip. Darkish illustrations both delighted and spooked me as a child. The bunyip emerges from the creek not knowing what he is or what he looks like. He proceeds to ask a platypus, a wallaby, an emu, and finally a man who answers by saying that bunyips simply don’t exist. Poor bunyip goes away sad lonely until another strange creature emerges from a nearby billabong.

The Very Hungry Caterpillar – Eric Carle

I defy you to show me a child who doesn’t poke their finger through the little holes in this book.

Mr Tickle – Roger Hargreaves

I particularly remember having this book read to me and the anticipation building page by page because I knew what was coming. If you weren’t careful reading this book, you might find Mr Tickle and his long arms reaching around the corner of the room you’re in right now and find yourself well and truly tickled!! I love how children ask to be tickled, then scream with laughter and beg you to stop. This book reminds me of that.

Possum Magic – Mem Fox

Another Australian classic. It has become a favourite of my children too. When I was about 10 my uncle took me to a reading of this book by the author Mem Fox, accompanied by the Australian Symphony Orchestra. She signed my book. I love the illustrations in this one, and have enjoyed other books illustrated by Julie Vivas as well.

In the Night Kitchen – Maurice Sendak

Perhaps not as well known as Where the Wild Things Are, this is still a great book. I still LOVE the illustrations! It’s about Mickey who is supposed to be going to sleep but finds himself floating into the ‘night kitchen’ where the bakers are busy baking the morning cake. He finds himself almost baked into a cake. They chant “Milk! Milk! Milk for the Morning Cake!” So Mickey flies in his dough plane right up to the Milky Way, dives into a milk bottle, swims back to the top and pours some milk down for the three fat bakers. The bakers rejoice and all is well. Thanks to Mickey there will be morning cake. Apparently this book was a bit scandalous at one stage because Mickey is naked. My 1980′s Australian primary school evidently didn’t have a problem with it.

There’s A Hippopotamus on Our Roof Eating Cake – Hazel Edwards

The hippopotamus gets to do all the things the little girl in this story wishes she could do. That is, take showers instead of baths, watch TV instead of going to bed and eating cake whenever she feels like it. I understand. I really do.

Has anyone else out there enjoyed these? What are you favourite books from childhood?

Related articles

• You Better Come Home Quickly (improbablefrontiers.wordpress.com)
• National Read a Book Day! (booksintheburbs.com)

Haka Chills

This happened at our local shopping mall just the other day. Flip, what a cool moment. Would have scared the crap out of me…

A facebook friend of mine who is a Kiwi living in Australia posted the other day her wonderings about whether her children growing up in Australia would get Haka chills or Waltzing Matilda chills. I ask myself the same thing…and actually hope it’s both. Although I have to say Waltzing Matilda doesn’t really do it for me. It’s just not in the same league as a Haka. (As cliched as it is, I do confess to singing Waltzing Matilda to travelling companions at the Taj Mahal though. We showed those Canadians a thing or two. )

Preparing to move

It’s funny how when you start thinking about leaving a place, that suddenly you are acutely aware of all the things you will miss about it. I have to say that the upcoming move to Australia isn’t really about the grass being greener on the other side. In the literal sense, the grass is definitely greener on this side. Adelaide having a much lower rainfall, my memories of the grass there in the heat of summer is patchy brown dusty tufts, the earth being so hard and dry that sometimes the water would run right over it. And in the metaphorical sense too in many ways, there are things here that I love and will miss dearly, and I will think of as the greener pastures.

As I drove to work last night, I couldn’t help but smile (and laugh actually) at the cars jammed full of proud Tongans and Samoans, furiously waving their nations flags and tooting their horns in their excitement about the Rugby World Cup. Living and working in South Auckland has exposed me to the Pacific Islander population and I know I will miss them. I love to see their strong sense of family as they gather around their sick relative in the hospital, many families holding vigil by the bedside for the duration of their stay. They attend to all the personal needs of the patient themselves, bring in their favourite foods and eat together in large groups. I always enjoy when they sing, play ukulele and pray together. A beautiful splash larger than life colour. I have learned things from them. Somehow the thought of being surrounded by mostly Caucasian people seems rather insipid. (No offense intended to all us whites…but we really do lack colour in more ways than one). I think on arrival in Adelaide I will have to seek out some diverse populations and plonk myself down in the middle of them.

When I first moved to New Zealand I was such a proud Australian that I felt a little sad that any children we had wouldn’t be Australian by birth. I got over myself though and now of course have four Kiwi kids. I could not be prouder that they are New Zealanders. One of the things that is hard about moving is that they are leaving the land of their birth. I am certain that there is always a connection between a person and the land they were born in, and there’s a sense of being uprooted when you leave. I know that they will want to come back one day. I hope they keep close ties with New Zealand as they grow up.  New Zealanders are some of the friendliest and most generous people I’ve met.

These are the thoughts on my mind as we go through our garage today and sort out our things into those we will keep and those we won’t. It feels good. It feels hard.

 

 

I Have Beans

I have beans.

I’m going to spill them all over you. Well some of them at least.  Of course there are always beans I keep carefully wrapped and tucked away in no danger of being spilled. But the ones I’m going to spill are the we-are-moving-to-Australia ones.

Yep that’s right. I guess you could say I’m going home. But what a lot of thoughts that phrase conjures up. Home? There’s a whole lot that could be said about what a home is, where a home is.  It’s not a simple as that, having lived here for 11 years. My kiddies were born here, 2 of them in this house, so moving doesn’t come easily. The heart is torn, but it’s time.

I have mixed emotions about it right now. Excitement and panic in equal measures probably sums it up. The actual move is still at least 4 months away, maybe a little more. It will depend among other things on the sale of our house. We are busy at the moment of clearing it out, cleaning it up and making it ship shape for sale.

We’re getting rid of most of our stuff. And because it’s September which is both my birthday month, but also that of charity: water, I am donating the sale of our household stuff for the month of September. 100% of the funds are going towards the purchase of a drilling rig to drill more wells for clean water in Ethiopia.

For locals, you can see the stuff I’m selling here, and my campaign page for September is over here. Of course you can go ahead and donate without buying something if you want, just to make me happy, but the idea is that you get the stuff and instead of paying me for it, you donate to charity: water.

So yeah. That’s them beans.