Day 451

This time last year I was a cranky little bitch.  I didn’t quite see it at the time, but in hindsight I can now see I was “testy” to say the least.  It wasn’t until I shuffled and bumped my way through new year that I realised it was because I was felt I was ending the year incomplete. 

This time last year I fully expected to be published. This time last year I was feeling a little inadequate I guess.  We had financial concerns yet I still wasn’t contributing to the pot of money because all my energies were being placed into my kids books.  Sure, sure, sure. I had managed to write 4 kids books in a 9 month period.  That’s something to celebrate. Sure, sure, sure.  I had secured both Johanna and Antonia to write the Forewords.  Another “woot woot” to be had there. But no publisher. No point having a stack of perfectly typed manuscripts if they were going to spend their lives in a box. 

This year I haven’t written any more books.  I have four in my mind, but nothing on paper yet.  This year I haven’t managed to secure any new parents of profile.  I have written to a few but nothing to report yet.  This year I am still not published. But this year, I do have a publisher!  This year, despite my lack of progress in some areas, I am inching towards completion.  While in some ways I achieved less, I also achieved more. 

I’m not much into NY resolutions.  Yes, I do set goals, but I do that daily.  However last year as I sat staring at my grumpy and somewhat “dusty” face at my New Year’s Day “I’ve had too many bourbons” mirror, I saw the slogan on my t-shirt.  It said “Free to Dream”.  You can read about it here. So I made that my mantra for the year.  That gave me permission to continue on with my journey to get these kids books published.  Free to dream. Because without dreams how can you strive to go beyond?

So what’s my mantra this year? Well the word “intention” is now firmly ingrained in my vocabulary.  Resolutions are bogus, to set goals is so yesterday, and the word dream is “sooooooo last year”.  It’s now time to set intentions.  I INTEND to make measurable progress in reasonable time. I INTEND continual forward movement. I INTEND to bring this dream to fruition.  I INTEND ….

What do you intend to do?

PS: I just re-read my NY post from this year (link above). Wish I hadn't.  Didn't accomplish half as much as I'd hoped. Fuck. Who's idea was it to blog all this shit anyway, putting it all in concrete and all? Stupid. Hmph. I did go trapeze flying though! Perhaps this whole power of intention thing will do the trick this year ...

Right now I intend to Flog My Blog (and yours to if you'll let me). Climb aboard the blogotron!

Day 450

I need some advice. I’ve come across quite an uncomfortable situation.  One that has me quite nervous and feeling a tad unwell.  It involves a fair bit of scratching and poking and prodding.  It includes a quarantine zone in the bedroom and shutting the blinds during the day.   It has us all quite concerned. 

Has anyone out there ever had crabs?

We’ve got crabs.  Well, actually, Tahlia does.  Her sister gave them to her.  For her birthday.  We’ve had them for three months.  They’ve created quite a stir, and they give us plenty to talk about.

Of course I’m talking about pet crabs. Hermit crabs to be precise.

I hope you didn’t think that I was talking about scabies!  Ewwwww!!!! That would just be disgusting and festy and wrong. 

Hermit crabs.  We have two hermit crabs which we’ve brought with us to the coast so that we can feed and water them as normal.  They are living in our bedroom in their glass tank. 

Anyway, a few days ago one of them disappeared. Completely.  We poked and prodded and scratched about in the tank, running our fingers through the sand, but couldn’t find him. In the end we lifted the tank up and looked in from underneath and found a complex tunnel system in the sand. And there he was.  Dead or alive? We dug him out.  He was not moving.  After much jiggling and wiggling we decided he was alive.  But possibly sick …

What does one do with a sick Hermie?  You can hardly take him to the vet.  Let’s just keep an eye on him.

Anyway for a day or so the crab would bury itself in the sand and just stay there, until one day Derek and I went in for a look and found a crab, laying naked out of its shell, being held by the claw of the other crab.  Now, let me just tell you, if you know anything about Hermit Crabs they never show you their bums.  So this was disturbing. Shit.  One crab had killed the other. But our mourning was short lived when I noticed a third crab in the tank.  We don’t have three crabs?! Tahlia was now by our side.  It seems we have three crabs sweetie, one of which is dead.

Huh? That’s not dead Mum.  That’s its skin. It’s moulting!

They moult?

Yes, they shed their skins. 

Geez ….

So there was no murder.  We now had a very active crab holding onto his exoskeleton, with the other crab watching nearby.  Cool. 

Then yesterday we found a second exoskeleton, or part thereof.  Just a tiny piece. Right next to the first peeled jump suit. Weird. And another naked crab. Only this time it really was a naked crab.  He wasn’t moving.  Only the slightest twitch. Again, is he dead?  I think he’s dead.  Plus he’s lost a limb! There was leg lying next to him. Crap. No, not crap. Crab. The second crab is going through the whole moulting thing and has died.  Or has he?  We watched.  An eye moved.  A nipper twitched.  There’s movement.  But is he ok?

I feel sick.  Helpless.  What can we do?  Is the crab dying a slow painful naked death?  I did the only thing possible.  Had a chat with Professor Goog.

I typed in “is my hermit crab dead or is he moulting?” Can you believe there was an extensive explanation for that exact question! According to the professor we shouldn’t assume death.  If a crab decides to shed above the surface we should just let him be.  He’ll become quite inactive.  He’ll be very vulnerable.  And if we disturb him during the peeling process we may kill him so peace and quiet is necessary.  And darkness. Oh, and a fence is also vital to protect him from the other crab in his naked state.  The Professor suggested cutting a plastic ring from a soft drink bottle and placing it around the nude Hermie.  So we did. 

I didn’t sleep much last night. I kept checking on him. No change.  At one point I did find his mate Mr Crabs in the quarantine area with him. He must have tunnelled under the fence. A friend holding his hand through the process, or a foe about to attack? I removed him just in case.  Lying there naked with your legs all askew requires a bit of privacy no matter which way you look at it. 

Anyway, so after around 15 hours we still have a naked and limp and motionless crabby. He’s not moving.  How do we know if he’s dead?  We wait a few days and see if he starts to smell. Great.  

I’ll keep you posted. 

Day 449

And that's all I've got to say about that ...

Day 448

Whoopsie!  Now there’s a word.  Or how about, Whoopsies, plural for when you really make a mistake.  Or whoopty doo for when something is bogus.  Or whooo hoooo for when you win.  Or even whoody, whoody, whoody when you just want to speak but have nothing to say.  And let’s not forget woot woot for the really big trumpet blowing celebrations!!  Yeah. Lots of woo woo words.  And plenty of places to use them.  If you’re a woo woo kinda girl like I am …

How’s your onomatopoeic vocabulary?  

Day 447

Alright. So the Christmas thing is done.

I am sitting at my in-laws coastal house. In the sun room.  It's normally spacious. Today, not so much.  Filled with tables, chairs and bodies.  In-laws are accommodating 13 people and three large dogs in a 3 bedroom home right now. And two hermit crabs.  And five laptops. And about 10 mobile phones. And piles of presents lining the walls. Very cosy. Very festive. Very coastal.  There are 3 tables set up in the sun room with 13 chairs.  Adds up I suppose.  Given there are 13 human bums to seat.  Dogs prefer the floor.  Crabs never show us their bums.

So I'm sitting here in amongst it all.  Trying not to stress about the lack of order.  Trying not to hyperventilate.  Stay calm. Relax.  Not my home, so not my place to hyperventilate.  Got my bum on a seat and that's all that matters.

But right now it's time to get my bum off this seat and start the breakfast process.  If I leave my laptop here my seat will stay reserved.  Thank you laptop.

Day 446

What a great Christmas! Santa came (phew), we ate and ate and ate, and drank, and drank, and drank, and cuddled, and kissed, and gave gratitude, and headed to the beach. And once we did that we pressed rewind and did it all again!! By the end of the day we were stuffed.  Totally stuffed but happy.

And today, our Boxing Day, I'm taking advantage of the sun and going splat on the beach. So that's my cue to sign off.

Hope you are having a fabulous festive season and that the sun is shining in your world (if not literally, at least metaphorically).

Cheers!!

Day 445

Day 444

Tonight is the night!! Yikes. 

I'm getting nervous.  As a parent I get really frightened that Santa won't come and the kids will be destroyed for life. I'm serious.  Do you know how many times the Tooth Fairy has failed to arrive? Sometimes she stops by in the middle of the day when we're not looking to make up for it. But it's not the same. I try to explain it away by suggesting she may be afraid of Max-the-hip-gyrating-Lab but the reality is she's just a forgetful bitch.  There's no excuse for disappointing kids like that.  So Santa, if you're listening, you'd better have that sack stacked and ready for a visit. In the meantime I'll be a nervous wreck.  Delivering in the middle of the day won’t work. I won’t sleep a wink. I’ll be pacing.  And when 5.00am hits I’ll be racing to see if you’ve been.  And I’ll be double checking. And triple checking. And when I’m sure it’s not an illusion I’ll be flushing toilets, opening cupboards, turning on taps and closing doors to very subtly wake everyone so I can be put out of my misery. Then once the joy of Santa is done I’ll be back in bed.  

Tonight is the night!! Yikes. Not sure I you noticed but I find Christmas Eve bloody stressful …

Day 443

I took a visit to Life in Pink Fibro a few minutes ago and got into the whole Christmas tree conversation. And you may recall that I wrote about our Christmas tree (of the Botanicus Plasticus variety) here. That reminded me that I have a story to tell you.  The story about the year we had a real tree.

For whatever reason we never had a access to Christmas tree farms.  I never knew anyone to have a real tree when I was young.  Everyone had the permanent evergreen in a box variety.  Anyway, one year Mum decided she might like the real thing so Dad devised a plan which I'll refer to here as the "borrowing of the fir".    Hmmm.  I don't suppose borrowing is the right term is it?  I guess once removed from his life support it's a little difficult to reattach.  The bottom line is we ripped him from his vitals and dragged his body to our home to display our slowly dying trophy. Shit.

So given the severity of the crime I'm not actually going to admit to anything.  I am thinking telling the story may be a really bad idea.  But now that you're here I guess you want to hear something.  Ok.

Let's just say that one night after dark we may or may not have dressed in black.

Let's just say we may or may not have run up the road to the local boarding school.

Let's just say they may or may not have had a patch of little fir trees.

And let's just say we may or may not have climbed through fences through their grounds to their neighbouring paddock.

And let's just say we may or may not have had an axe with us.

And it's possible that we may or may not have accidentally swung the axe which may or may not have delivered a fatal blow.

And as a result we may or may not have dragged the body through fences and down streets being sure to keep in the shadows.

Let's just say our Christmas tree that year may or may not have been the result of a heist.

I'm not saying we did or didn't steal a tree.  All I'm saying is we had a real Christmas tree one year but now we stick with botanicus plasticus.  And until the scars heal I think we'll give the "borrowing of the fir" a miss for a few more years.  Luc Longly will be with us for a while yet ....

Day 442

WARNING, WARNING, WARNING: M RATED

A few weeks ago I ate an entire chicken and asparagus quiche over two days. All on my own.  Sure, my shit don’t stink, but my urine sure started to.

My wonderful Mum baked a whole freezer full of quiches to get rid of some eggs, so I gladly took one. I love quiche. The rest of the family, not so much.  Which is why I ate it for breakfast, lunch and dinner on my own.  And there in lies the whole smelly urine debacle.

Asparagus gives you smelly wee.

Here is a little known fact (warning: it is right up there with bleached butt holes and merkins): Did you know that tins of asparagus are often kept in brothels so that the working ladies can stink up their pee to perform the perfect golden shower! Bet you didn’t know that!!!  Yep, when some dirty bloke who likes his lady to cock her leg on the ol’ fire hydrant walks in requesting the golden treatment, the brothel manager whisks out the asparagus and great big jug of water and the fem fatale chows down before servicing her client. Smelly pee? Check!!

You see! Now your day is complete. You learn something new every day whether you want to or not! 

Day 441

You can learn heaps from kids ... like how much patience you have for a start.

Today is Tuesday.  School only finished last Friday.  Already the bickering has begun.  This could well be a bloody long summer ...

My kids didn't always fight. Actually it's a new phenomenon.  It really only started this year. They've always really cared for each other and played well together. I think the four year age gap is starting to show now that Tahlia is a tweenie and Darbs is still in the midst of kidnom.  Plus their very different personalities. Oh, and that one is a boy and one is a girl I guess.  Tahlia wants to just hang around and rest at the moment, and Darby is full of energy and needs a friend.  Neither is getting what they want.  Frustration.  Argy bargy.  Screaming. Tears.

Sigh.

Yep, you can learn a lot from your kids.  I've learned that my patience is paper thin ...

Day 440

Today as we settle into the first week of the school holidays I'd like to pay homage to teachers.  Actually, no.  While I do want to highlight my gratitude and complete 'bow at your feet' respect for teachers, I'm actually wanting to pay homage to the learning support staff.

Why?  Well because I spent time working in the learning support unit this year and I really appreciate what they do for a comparatively small income.  And I really admire the heart in which they do it. And I really like the rapport they establish with the kids who most need their support. But most of all I can see the outcomes that are achieved and the confidence that is built in these kids who need a helping hand.

So I suppose it kinda looks like I'm paying homage to myself then! Nah.  I was only there for a couple of terms, but I did get to see how it all works and get a true understanding of the challenges the support staff tackle each day.  And the light in the kids eyes as their special teacher walks in the room to help them learn.

The reason I feel the need to pay homage is because (a) I personally got so much out of providing learning support this year, but more importantly (b) that Darby will probably require some learning support next year, (c) my best friend is a learning support assistant in Pennsylvania and I know the work she puts in, (d) one of my most loyal blog followers posted a comment on my blog and a subsequent post on her site about the value and joy of her teaching experiences, and finally (e) the learning support staff up at our school are absolutely beautiful and dedicated and peaceful and bring so much joy that I just wanted to give them a mention.

Phew. That's a lot of homage!!!

But seriously, this is the comment Jen from Jemikaan left on my site when I wrote about Darby's new challenge the other day:

I had a student I worked with one on one who had learning difficulties and who was very behind in his schooling. His teachers were frustrated as he didn't do his work, even when it was modified work, he distracted others and he had major anger issues. They thought that maybe he didn't have 'much going on'. I worked with him, without distractions and I discovered one of the most intelligent little individuals! That intelligence didn't lie in books and reading and writing. It didn't necessarily lie in book maths either. It lay in life experience and the ability to 'work things out' and to 'fix things' . He worked often on his families farm. Getting up at 3-4am to do the crops before coming to school. This boy went home and mowed the lawn, until the lawn mower broke and so he took it apart and fixed it. No manual, no help, just worked it out and fixed it. He would weld things when needed, he knew how to run that farm with his eyes closed. If you wanted to know about how to grow something, tend vegetables, work the land he was the man to go to. This information is something he had never had the opportunity to share with his teacher. What an enormous shame that was though, as just knowing this would make the teacher see, and hearing him say it with enthusiasm and conviction would completely change their outlook on him. And we all know that the way you see someone does influence the way you talk to and treat them. 

That boy just graduated primary school. I know he will struggle at high school, but I also know he has an incredibly bright future ahead of him, even if it wont involved reading novels!  

I have been pretty lucky the last few years working with small groups of children. It has given me an insight into kids and teaching which is harder to see when teaching a full class. All teachers should be given more time to work one on one with their students and really get to 'know' them.

Isn't that a beautiful story!  Yes, teachers are wonderful and I put them on a pedestal right up there with our emergency services dedicating their lives to the well being of others.  I believe that Jen is, in fact, a teacher who has insight via a variety of teaching frameworks. But the learning support staff who are fortunate enough to work one-on-one or with small groups of kids are exceptional as well. And so needed. I wish we could have more of them.

For another of Jen's experiences working with small groups of kids in need, you can go to her Friday posting here.

Day 439

The ghost of Christmas party past ...

Why oh why can't kids sleep in.  Why do they wake up at sparrows fart regardless of when they went to bed?  WHY?!

Hang on a minute ... why oh why can't I sleep in?!  Why do I wake up at the same time every day regardless of when I went to bed?
WHY?!

It's 6.30am and I am honestly exhausted.  Everything about me is tired.  Head, legs, feet, eyes, throat ... my fingers.  Even my ears feel tired. My hair is yawning.  My elbows.  My arm pits.  Absolutely exhausted.

We hosted the annual Langdown Christmas bash at our house last night and ended up with around 55 adults and 25 kids.  Family, friends.  School, work, childhood. Yikes!! We had 80 people wandering around our house and back deck!  And we cooked for them all! What the hell were we thinking?  But it all went well.  Fabulous night.  Ended around midnight.  Bed around 1.00.  With the assistance and guidance of a fit and fabulous mother/Nanny the food was served hot, the salads were served fresh, the pasta wasn't too sticky, and the washing up was done afterwards.  All I've got to worry about now is copious amounts of bottles and cans to take to the recycling depot and how the hell I'm going to go through the pile of chocolates I was given for Christmas, and all the half bottles of wine that have been left over!  Not the world's worst conundrum I guess.

Yeah, it was a good night.  But everything is tired. And I want sleep

Why oh why can't I sleep in ...

Let's see what the place looks like after the event.  The ghost of Christmas party past ...

Day 438

The mock-ups have arrived!

The mock-ups have arrived!

The mock-ups have arrived!

Jump, jump, jiggle, jiggle ....

Woot woot ....

The mock-ups have arrived!!!

Day 437

Yesterday I let you in on the fact that our Darbs has a learning difficulty.

Now that we have adjusted to the whole "Darby has dyslexia" thing we've decided to move the D word from our vocabulary.  Teachers are now aware of the issue, we are up for the challenge, and Darby understands that his eyes aren't quite as fit as the rest of his body.  We're all aware that he needs to now exercise his eyes and undertake some extra home learning activities.  We'll make it work.  But the D word is now gone. Why? Because I've come to believe that these words label and disable.

Did you know that kids with learning challenges are four times more likely to be self-made millionaires than he rest of the population? Not sure who came up with that statistic but it's one that is often used when discussing left and right brain functionality.  I'm gonna embrace that! He and his millions can keep me in luxury when I'm old.  Apparently if left brain thinking is difficult/different, the child over compensates looking for innovative answers by switching the right brain, making for a very creative and adaptable individual. They think outside the box.  And we all know what riches lie outside that darn box ...

So while Darby's got a bit of a challenge right now because he lives in a book based environment, I think we'll focus on his strengths and abilities, while quietly and methodically going about his new learning regime.  Hopefully that'll do the trick.  I reckon he's gonna be just fantastic to be honest.

In the meantime I'll try not to worry too much and embrace the challenge instead ....

Try ...

Day 436

So Oprah didn't show.  Such a shame. Oh well, her loss I guess.  She would have loved Tahlia's candle ceremony.  It would have completely put her Opera House shows to shame ...

On to other things.

Today I am going to talk about our little Darby Doo.  Darbs has been struggling to learn to read and write. He's just finished year one and 6 months ago the alarm bells went off for me that he didn't seem to be reading/writing as well as he could given his obvious progression in other areas.  So I started to investigate.

I started with a behavioural optometrist who decided Darbs was doing ok for his age group but that there was some eye fatigue that could be assisted with glasses.  So $200 later we walked out the door with our strategy in hand.  After a couple of months of headaches (a new thing since the glasses) and no obvious improvement I decided to take it further.  I engaged the help of the learning support coordinator at school and she agreed that while he had great comprehension his reading experience was marred by his difficulty with recognising the words.  So I did some more research and ended up with a referral to another optometrist.  This one said to ditch the $200 glasses.  Darby had an issue with one eye only rendering the glasses useless. To use the technical jargon our boy "exhibits an alternating convergent strabismus, slow adduction recovery at near and a micro-suppression of the right eye". Sounds interesting.

So the next step was to attend remedial dyslexia therapy.  Darby and I attended the Alison Lawson Centre last night for another assessment and some next steps.  Darby has what is called visual dyslexia, which is a physiological issue that symptoms dyslexia.

The bloke described it like this: our eyes see two of everything (each eye receives the same message) which gets sent back to our brain that puts the two images together to send it to the front of the brain so that we end up with only one visual.  Well, Darby's right eye has less inward muscle control so the message he receives back when reading isn't quite one visual, but includes a bit of the second visual as well.  Plus it gets worse within his arm length range.  Where he holds the book.  If we hold the book out further than his arm length it can ease it up a bit.  There is a 40cm range in there or something. Oh yeah, and things get worse as the day goes on because of the muscle fatigue.

The alarm bells went off for me (and the frustration commenced) when one word within a story would be repeated over and over but every time he'd read it, it was like he was seeing it for the first time.  Well, guess what!! If the words around that one word were to change, he WOULD be seeing it for the first time.  I'll show you:

I have a red hat
The hat is red.


When Darby sees that his eyes actually take part of the word before it as he reads it so that the words you would think he'd learn (red and hat) look completely different in each sentence. He probably sees them as:


ared dhat
ehat sred


Now, to confuse things he doesn't see the first letter (therefore he doesn't try to sound it out), but his brain associates the first letter with the word which confuses the recognition part of the brain.  Or something like that. It's all too scientific for this little nun chuck. All I can say is, if that is the case, then my boy's a freakin genius to have gotten so far.  Bloody hell.  The poor kid. Reading and writing must have been the devil's work for poor little Darby Doo. No wonder he hated it!! But what a trooper ... he always did it with only minor complaint.


So anyway, the good news is we an fix it. With exercise. So while his classmates are taking time off from school Darby will commence his ten week program in mid-January and we'll be doing an hour of special homework everyday for 3 months so that he enters year 2 feeling better equipped to handle the year 2 workload.  He's ok with that.  He's just happy we're going to be able to fix it, and that it was out of his control all along.  He's actually taking on the challenge with a great deal of energy ...

Day 435

So I'm expecting Oprah to turn up on my door step either today or tomorrow.  Since I didn't get tickets to her show, nor was I invited on as a guest, I'm assuming that means she's decided to spring a visit on me instead.  So I'd better do my hair and get some decent clothes on.  

How come no one ever looks completely bedraggled when they get these surprise visits you see on Ellen, Extreme Makeover Home Edition etc?  Why isn't anyone looking all panda eyed and hungover, or wearing their daggy old tracky bums, or going braless or something?  Surely I'm not the only one who has days where my appearance would seriously frighten small children or cause the odd myocardial infarction.  Do these people actually get warning? Or are there times the television crew turn up and have to say "can you, um, go and fix yourself up a bit and we do this whole surprise bit again"?  It's happened to me  you know.  When Darby was born I had a surprise visit from the head of our Government Department and his EA who decided to hand deliver some flowers. I was in stained and saggy track pants that were falling off my hips, tshirt without bra, and my hair hadn't been brushed for three days.  I was in the depths of sleepless nights and continuous breast feeding.  I was literally caught with my pants down ...

So it happens.  Surely it actually happens on the TV shows too. But I plan on being prepared. So I'm off to fix up the grey skunkline in my hair, whack on some foundation and get some appropriate this-is-what-I-always-wear-around-the-house-I-wasn't-expecting-you-at-all clothes that will highlight the colour of my eyes and give the illusion of a tan.  Something that will go well with the Argyle diamond necklace or set of rare pearls she'll be bringing with her.

Then I'd better tidy the house, but when she arrives I'll still go "Oh my goodness, I wasn't expecting guests, the house is a mess!!" thing to cover up the fact that despite cleaning my house never looks picture perfect.

And then I'll put out a pot of green tea, and light a few candles, and have some soft music playing to create the illusion of peace and tranquility in my home office. 

And then I'll cancel all my activities for the next two days and sit and wait.  

What do you think?  Do you think she'll show?

Hmph.  I suppose that is going a bit overboard.  Perhaps I should scrap the candle idea.  She might have a sensitive sense of smell. Don't want to give her a migraine.

But seriously what would you do if Oprah turned up on your doorstep?  Or if you're not into Oprah, what about, say, if the Better Homes and Garden crew arrived to spruce up your yard?  Or even if your boss arrived to surprise you with a holiday bonus or a bunch of flowers or something? Would you be ready for them?

I'm gonna be ready.  And if I don't get a surprise visit then at least I'll feel fabulous as I sit at my computer and work at the Yuk to Kids business proposal.  Yes, I am actually cancelling everything today. Including the gym. But it's not all for Oprah. I need to get the paperwork finished to get this kid safety labeling finalised.  If you haven't given your support/comments for the idea yet please click here to check it out.  I'd love your input ...

PS Tahlia has her candle ceremony today at school. That's where the current year 6 class pass the leadership to the current year 5 class (Tahlia) in readiness for their role as seniors next year. If Oprah turns up at midday we'll just have to take her with us ...

  

   

Day 434

I can hardly see. I am sitting here bleary eyed and the screen is blurred.  My eyes appear to be stuck together. Trying to pry them open so I can see what I type.  Maybe I should actually wake up before I hit the blogosphere.  Might help I suppose ...

Today I'm gonna drive 3 hours for lunch, eat, chat, giggle, take photos, then I'm gonna turn around and drive the 3 hours home again. Is 6 hours a lot of driving for lunch?

When I was a kid I had a handful of good friends. There were four of us who were in primary school together and then headed to the same all girls Catholic high school.  We all went through to year 10 together before they all left to find jobs and I continued on to year 12 and then to uni.  I've stayed friends with two of the three. We don't talk to each other much. We see each other even less.  But we're in each others hearts and we're bonded for life.  The friendship is cemented and doesn't need constant contact.  But occasional contact is important.

Back in July two of us made an effort for lunch. She traveled two hours and I traveled one to meet in the middle for a catch up. We hadn't seen each other in four years. You can read about it here.

In that blog post I vowed to never leave it so long between drinks. To make friends a priority and do what it takes to stay connected.  So with that in mind I put it in my diary to travel to her to check out her marital home (she got married since our last luncheon) and to give her more than a virtual hug.  The date was MONTHS after the last one.  The date was in the far off distance.  The forward date gave us plenty of time to gather more goss in which to feast as we ate our salt and pepper squid, or lasagne, or pie of the day, or enormous steak sandwhich.

Today is that day.  Today is the day I drive three hours for lunch.  Today is the day I get to ditch motherhood, wifedom, business woman, author, cheer coach and just hit the road in a Thelma without her Louise style of road trip to hang out with a friend and be a chick.  And I am really looking forward to it ...

Day 433

Note to self - while sports crop tops are great as added support under a t-shirt, they shouldn't take the place of a bra.

Roger that.

I made the mistake of feeling sooooo fabulously secure in my New Balance crop top at boxercise last week that I neglected to do the whole bra thing underneath.  I just didn't give it any thought! I put the crop top on, threw on my t-shirt and hightailed it to the gym without so much as a "this feels odd why are my boobs spread across my chest" notion appearing in my brain.

It wasn't until I was half way through boxercise and I caught sight of myself in the mirrors that my chest with its double short stack with cherry on top became the clear focus of attention.  Who knew my boobs could have that circumference! And who knew they could move so "fluidly" to the beat of the music. Who knew you could smash a body part down that flat and still have it jiggle. Who knew that boxercise could give you a hankering for flapjacks ....

Day 432

My dream:

To help as many children in the world as possible 

believe in their own power

Well, that is one of the reasons I started writing the books and also why I started the cheerleading.  I just want children to believe they can make a difference.

Anyway, that was my dream.

But it's not my dream anymore.

I decided to dream about that was bogus.

Are you disappointed in me?

Please don't be.

It's not my dream anymore because, instead, it's my intention.

Day 432

It's official. It's Christmas. I've said that already I know. But that was because I saw elves, and the tree is up, and the lights on the house and stuff.  But now I KNOW it's official because we had our first week of Christmas activities.  Darby had his "rocking Christmas" concert at school, and Tahlia had her Christmas cheer concert and end of year party yesterday.  So with that comes confirmation for me that Christmas is just around the corner, and a great deal of relief that cheer is over for another year and I get to rest.

Having said that I've been working on the cheerleading strategic plan.  After having 90 competitive cheerleaders at the school last year I need to get some real organisational structure in place to ensure longevity and succession planning for the out years.  I'm only going to be around for as long as Tahlia is .... which means we leave at the end of next year. So yes, lots to do to get it up and running on its own ...

But enough of that.  I am at the coast again where the sun is shining for the first day in FOREVER and it is hot!!  We are ditchin the mobile communication devices and the social networking that comes with it for some splatsville on the sand before the rains arrive again ....

Ciao for now my cyber buddies.

Oh, and if you weren't around yesterday I really need your help.  I would love it if you would provide your comments on the new Yuk to Kids concept.  Click here to check it out. 

Day 431

I need your help today.  

I need your help to prevent as many children as possible from possible poison or chemical burns.  

Do me a favour and go grab a bottle of bleach, or fabric softener or dishwasher powder.  

Check out the labeling for me.  

Is there something on there that would clearly communicate to your child that the contents are dangerous?  Is there a danger symbol on there that kids would understand means DANGER! Do not drink, Do not touch, or Don't play with it? 

There's not, is there?

Hmph.

What if we created one? 

Would you buy the product communicating the dangers to your kids, over a competitors product who didn't? 

I am working with a woman who has created a child safety logo to warn the community of the dangers of some products used in and around the home, after a realisation that there is a gap in Australia in safety warnings relating to many common household items.  

Her words:

“Yuk to Kids^TM was an idea that came straight from my 3 year old son Ayden during a holiday when he decided to help with the laundry. He asked if he could have a drink of what I was holding. He thought it was cordial. It was fabric softener. This could happen to any of our children or even to us! That’s when I took action and Yuk to Kids^TM was born.”

- Julie Okely, CEO - 

It is Julie's mission to have as many risk products as possible carry the symbol and have this supported by an education program targeted at younger children.  

Extensive research has gone into the creation of the symbol to ensure it is easily recognisable by children and adults as the universal warning on risk items that they be handled with extreme care.  The symbol above has been trademarked and intellectual property processes are complete.  She has endorsements by leading child psychologists and Kidsafe. Phase one of her project is complete.  But it's now time for phase two. That's where I come in.

Recent figures from the Child Accident Prevention Foundation of Australia estimate that about 50 children per week in Australia are admitted to hospital because of poisoning, and between 5 and 10 children per year die from it.  And that is only poison. What about chemical burns, electrical accidents and machinery?

Imagine if we could prevent just one nasty accident ….

Imagine if you saved just one child from dying a slow painful death from poison …

Imagine if we could reduce chemical burns in children …

Julie is committed to lowering these statistics one safer child at a time.

What is my role in this? I have been contracted to put the business proposal(s) together which will ultimately go to Australia's manufacturers and retailers proposing their partnership in implementing this Australia wide.  Yuk to Kids^TM labeling is currently available for purchase by individuals in sticker form, but we are focussed on getting the logo included in safety labeling at manufacture (rather than having to add it after purchase).

What do I need from you?  I would love it if you could email me via my business website here, or comment below, giving your "testimonial" or "support" for the Yuk to Kids^TM  safety labeling concept.  I am planning to include a attachment full of support from around Australia, and the world, which I think would really enhance our proposal.

Isn't this exciting?!  I think it is. I feel blessed to be involved in such a worthwhile endeavor.  To be part of one mother's goal to change the lives of many.  

I'd love love LOVE your involvement too. 

You can read more about the  Yuk to Kids^TM project here.

Thanks everyone!!!  Have a fabulous Flog Yo Blog Friday ... and stay safe :)

Oh, and because it is a fabulous Flog Yo Blog day, you're gonna have to scroll down a looooooonnnng way to leave your comment. (But please don't let that deter you.) You can check out some other great blogs along the way ...

Day 430

Migraine.

'Nough said.

Day 429

Apparently patience is a virtue.  Yeah, it is I suppose. But when you want to succeed at something really bad then you need to find that balance of patient persistence.  Persistence is vital.

Today I am being persistent.  I previously emailed Mr Publisher in New York and demanded (well, kindly asked) for a teleconference (well, a one-on-on phone call) to discuss my book.

I'm interested to know where the mock-ups are up to, what we need to do to get my official website up and running, how the promotional arrangements are going (particularly for Australia), how the podcast recordings are done (do I record it?) and a whole host of other questions based on the contract. Basically I want to know when they are going to hit the "GO" button.

Who are we kidding? You all know what I want. I want to bloody well know when the hell my God Damn - (sorry) "Gosh Darn" - books are going to be on the freakin' shelves!!!!!  

So I am sitting here sipping tea awaiting the big phone call from Mr Publisher who will in his suit sitting in his 5th Avenue office in NYC, while I am here in my "I am so blogging this" pyjamas, with bed head, no bra, stale breath and smelly armpits. Hmph. Not sure if that is going to do. I mean, I could actually shower, do my hair and get dressed into something that makes me feel like I am about to enter an assertive and outcomes based meeting with my publisher.  But hey, let's not go overboard.  I'm going to the gym after this.  No point showering yet. And he can't see me (or can he?)   Alright then. I could at least go and bra up and remove the socks from my teeth I suppose .....

And then I will sit here and wait for 7.30am to tick over.  And wait.  Dum de dum.  And wait.  Crap.  Literally.  Hanging around always makes my bowels wanna work.  It happens in libraries and video shops as well as I wander aimlessly scanning shelves. Instant laxative.  Weird.

And wait.

Dum de dum.

And wait.

Oh, I know, perhaps I should do what I would normally do at this time of the day. Make lunches, make beds, pack the dishwasher, organise breakfast, put on a load of washing.  Ok. Good thinking ....

I'll talk to you later.  I promise. The moment the phone rings I'll quietly whisper to you to keep you up to date with progress ....

An hour and a half later:

Toot toot! chugga chugga chugga chugga, toot toot!

The train is back on the tracks and we're on our way.

Mr Publisher called at 7.35am (3.35 pm NYC time).  We talked for 20 minutes. Wanna know the low down? Well, the book won't be out by Christmas, but we'd kinda come to terms with that anyway.  Hadn't we? So no news there.  But now I know what to expect from here.

They are currently working to apply the copy (love the lingo) and I should have proofs by the end of next week for sign off.  I need to be happy with placement and how the text is applied to images (again, loving the lingo).  Apparently it won't take long from mock-up to printing.  They suggest we're looking at around mid-late January for the book to go to press.  It generally takes anywhere from 10-20 days before the book is back in their hands ready for distribution and promotion.  It can take a while for the book to hit the market from that point but we're hopeful it will be reasonably quick, so we're looking at books being on shelves in March-April.

I then moved on to book number 2.  No point beating about the bush with these things - particularly since I've got him captured on the other end of a phone wire.  Persistence.

They are keen to take it on board.  Score!! The timing however is tricky.  So after a bit of a chat about the process we agreed that if I can get my illustrator working on images over January/February we can press the button in March for an October/November release.  He said that was realistic timing. I had hoped to get 3-4 books out a year but getting two out next year makes for a reasonable start and we can aim for roll-on releases the following year.  

So there you have it.  Patient persistence.  I can now sleep ...

Day 428

"Never worry about the size of your Christmas tree. In the eyes of children, they are all 30 feet tall" 

~Larry Wilde, The Merry Book of Christmas

Do you remember that as a kid?  I do. I remember having the biggest tree ever that reached to the ceiling.  

In the land of the bronzed Aussie we predominantly use fake trees because the real ones are just too hard to come by.  Well, when I was a kid, I think they were non-existent.  Unless you chopped one down and stole it from the nearby Catholic school. But that is a story for another day.  Anyway we use fake trees. So we tend to have the same tree year in, year out.  I remember my childhood tree clearly.  As I said, it was enormous. I had to crane my neck to see the top.  Or that's what I recall ...

It turns out that it only went up to about chest height on an adult. Are you kidding me? When did my parents dump that Luc Longley length tree and swap it for one of the seven dwarfs?  Are you sure this is the same tree?  Yes, it was the same tree.  

Since then they've bought a new tree.  It's not Luc Longley height but about Derek Langdown height. About 6 foot 5 without it's shoes or can even grow to 6 foot 6 if it's had a few drinks.  Nice tall tree. And Mum bought us a tree too.  It's taller than Derek - it IS Luc Longly height!! Oh yes it is.  

Just how tall is Luc Longley? He is 7 foot 2 inches (about 218cm). Who is Luc Longley?  Well he is a retired professional basketball player who I think may have been the first Australian to ever play in the NBA.  He's the same age as me.  Derek actually used to play with/against him as a teenager.  But we're not here to talk about Luc Longely.  The topic was Christmas trees ...

Was your childhood tree 30 feet tall?

Day 427

Well, it's official! Christmas is just around the corner.  How do I know? Well, I saw an elf run past me through the lounge room yesterday, so that's gotta mean something.  Plus of course there's the whole Santa list thing going on. Oh, and there's the empty bottles of champagne lying about which suggests celebration is in the air. Plus sugar plum fairies have been dancing in my head and totally messing with my mind (the bitches).  And let's not forget the fact that we're all hemorrhaging money right now on weekly shop-a-thons.  But the number one reason I know that Christmas is just around the corner would have to be that extreme makeover that took place in my lounge room last night.  I woke up to find a tree had magically grown in the corner where the table soccer used to be, plus my fireplace had transformed into a green and red Santa fest.  And in the middle of the night I woke up to flashing lights outside my window which I thought were Emergency Services but turned out to be our very own Chevy Chase style house bling.  So with all that going on it's starting to feel a lot like Christmas.

Seriously though. The kids (and their friends) had a ball decorating the tree yesterday. I gave them free reign.  We finished up with quite an eclectic looking tree full of kidnom and child spirit.  (The funny thing was that I discovered later that night they'd only done one side! The back of the tree was nude. I quietly tried to fix it ....)  I thoroughly enjoyed decorating the fireplace and going around the house adding decorations here and there. I even attacked the main bathroom with cherubs, holly, a Santa and a small Christmas tree to sit on the back of the toilet.  (There's absolutely nothing wrong with taking a festive crap.) Derek channeled his inner Chevy and did the house lights.  After some assessment he's decided there is more to be done in that department, but overall it looks fantabulous.

Yeah, it's starting to feel a lot like Christmas. How's your Christmas mojo shaping up?

Day 426

I love that saying so much that I have it on the back of my business cards.

But it's so true!  It's all about perception.  Don't you think?

I often use the example of cancer.  Two people are diagnosed with the same cancer on the same day with the same prognosis.  They live in the same world. After the initial shock and mourning period, one person rolls into a ball and lives their life in dread and gloom.  The other stands up,  puts their shoulders back and lives every day to the fullest.  One person experiences the world as dark and full of dread and despair, while the other experiences the world as light and full of celebration and hope.  Whose world would you rather live in?

We experience the world not as it is, but as we are.  Yep.. That's my Sunday Citar ...

Day 425

Look at my new pyjamas!  Just look at them!! Yes, I love them.  I saw them in KMart and the "buy now" button went off in my brain.  So of course the first thing I said was "I am sooooooo blogging this ...."

Day 424

Three things happened yesterday to totally screw with my comfort zone. All of them in the space on an hour. All of them related to the gym.  All them having a serious impact on my self esteem.  Seriously. 

Comfort zone challenge number one – mumblers.

Because of other commitments I couldn’t wait for my 10.30 boxercise class so decided to turn up at 9.30 instead to see what was on.  On the way I stopped for groceries.  I walked the streets in my fabulously slim fitting exercise clothes.  I am firming up. I felt good.  When I entered the gym I raced to the bathroom to wee.  No point jumping around on even a partially full bladder.  Age is not kind in that department.  I did my business then stood in front of the mirror to check out the gym bod.  Not too bad.  Not perfect, but getting closer.  Arms are finally firming up. Tummy getting tighter.  Calves are looking muscular. That’s when I saw it.  What?!  It can’t be!!  I’ve been walking around the streets exposing that!!  Nooooooo.  There it was. No denying it.  A very prominent camel toe.  You know, I had the whole axe wound thing going on.  Now ladies, no matter what age, no matter what decade, no matter what country, there is nothing remotely glamorous about seeing the outline of your lady pouch.  There is no excuse for mumbling!! If you are walking down the street and we can see your lips moving, we wanna be able to hear what you’re saying (know what I mean?).  Mumble pants must be banished!!! So there I was.  Mumbling away.  And I hadn’t even entered the gym yet.  Emergency action required.  Must stuff undies with toilet paper to smooth it out.

Comfort zone challenge number two – complete lack of coordination.

So it turns out that the 9.30 class is something called Body Jam which is quoted as being “an addictive fusion of the latest dance and hottest new sounds”.  The little side note said it was for all levels.  Cool. I’m a cheer coach.  How hard can this be?  We started. It was fun!! What a great class. Good move!  Yep. Stealing that one for next years poms routine. Oooh. And that one. Cool. Getting jiggy with it.  Step ball change. Bounce bounce, step ball change.  Add some arms.  Maybe. Starting to feel like a schizophrenic octopus.  Managing though.  And then she declared the little warm up was over and it was time to get started. Ohhhhhh.  And that is where the fun ended.  I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t manage the moves.  And just as I was halfway to learning the move she would speed it up and add another bit.  People were body jamming all around me. How come they could do it?  Why can’t I do this?  I decided to drop the arms. Perhaps if I just work on my legs.  Nope.  It was the most excruciating 45 minutes ever.  What the hell is wrong with me? I’m a cheer coach! Holy hell.  My poor cheerleaders.  As I watched myself in the mirror I sank further into despair.  I have a camel toe AND I can’t dance.

Comfort zone challenge number three – I failed

Tony Robbins says that there is no such thing as failure – just a different result. And if you actually remove the word fail from the English language it makes for a more confident existence.  Yeah, well, I know that the only true way to fail at something is to quit.  That’s a fact.  And that’s what I did. Notice how I said up there that is was the most excruciating 45 minutes ever? Well the class was an hour. Yep I left. My camel toe and I mumbled our way out the door before the class was over. I quit.  Now this is seriously challenging because I never quit at anything. Well, hardly ever.  Ask Mum. Mum, do I ever quit at anything?  Ask my best friend. Cathy, since you’ve known me, have I ever quit?  Ask my husband. Derek, am I a quitter?  Nope.  If I commit myself to something I do it no matter how tough it is or miserable it makes me. I see it through to the end and to the best of my ability. I don’t quit.  Until yesterday.  And now my self esteem has taken a beating, partially because I had been showing off my axe wound to the world, also because I thought I could at least dance a little bit, but mostly because I quit.  If only I’d stayed for that extra 15 minutes. It would have been over.  I would have accomplished.  Shit. FFS. I’m so not a quitter.  Damn it!! You know what this means, don’t you.  I’m going to have to bloody go back next week and do it all again.  FUCK!!!!!

(And the self-pity this-is-too-hard and God-I’m-a-loser sobbing begins ….)

It's Friday! Time to check out the rest of the blogosphere (wanna Flog Yo Blog?)

Day 423

Sometimes you just need a good cry.  I think it's essential to cleanse.  To get rid of the gremlins inside you.  Sometimes you've just gotta release. Oh, and cleanse your eyeballs while you're at it.

I had a bit of a cry last night.  And on Monday night as well.  

Don't worry, nothing sad has happened.  It's stupid TV shows that make me cry - and not even sad TV shows - very happy TV shows where amazing things happen for ordinary people.  

On Monday night I sat there sobbing during a ridiculous show called Undercover Boss where the CEO of a company secretly went and worked within a chain of hotels/fun parks in amongst her staff. It's the first time I'd seen it. She did stints as front desk receptionist, waitress, life guard and in a child care facility.  Afterwards she went and changed a few things about the company to take better care of the employees.  But that's not what made me cry.  It was when she did wonderful things to create better lives for the staff who had worked with her when she was under cover.  Like having the company sponsor one woman's kid through college, and organising for a knee operation for another lady, sending one guy off for flying lessons and giving one woman 6 months off at full pay to spend time with her family.  Plus they all got promoted.  Anyway it was very touching because each of them had individual hard luck stories and worked long hours for relatively little pay, and were never expecting such amazing opportunities. Why did I cry? Her kindness. Their gratitude.  Sob fest!

And then last night the kids and I stumbled across some TV show on Foxtel where a group of home decorators (and I guess builders) sent a family on holidays and while they were gone bulldozed their tiny shack of a house and build a mansion in its place.  I only entered the show half way through but it seems the community rallied together to support a mother who appeared to have dedicated her life to adopting kids, raising them and home schooling them, even though she herself had very limited resources. There was a shitload of them.  About ten kids?  They were a very close family - in spirit and physically - with the kids sharing beds, sleeping on the lounges and on mattresses on the floor. The dining table was so small that they'd never had a family meal together. Anyway, they came home to a beautiful new home filled with new furniture and bedrooms galore, as well as a room dedicated as a classroom for the home schooling.  My sobbing commenced when they saw their dining room table that was so big that they could all fit AND invite guests.  Again it was the kindness and resulting gratitude that got me.  Another sob fest ....

Yeah, it's ok to cry. Actually it's mandatory.  I think after you release it all you become more resilient to tackle your own day-to-day stuff.  Maybe ...  

Day 422

Cruskets lined up on a plate. Loaded with cream cheese, avocado, lettuce, chicken and Spanish onion. Breakfast.

Green tea.

Rain pelting down outside.

Time to tackle big project.

Type, type, type, type, type.

Type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type.

Type, type, type.

Type, type.

Type.

Sip.

Stare out window.

Ponder.

Sigh.

Fart.

Type, type, type, type, type, type.

Type, type, type, type, type.

Type, type, type.

Type, type, type.

Type, type, type.

Type.

Sniff.

Blow.

Sip.

Google.

Read.

Cool!

Type, type, type, type, type, type .....

Type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type type, type, type, type.

Type, type.

Type.

Save.

Sip.

Read.

Highlight. Delete.

Type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type type, type, type, type,  ....

Email.

Google.

Read.

Type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type type, type, type, type ...

Look out window.

Rain.

Ponder.

Type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type, type type, type, type, type...