Volunteering

I've signed up as a volunteer for LAP (learning assistance program) at the boys’ school. It looks like I’ll be helping out initially with 1x30 minute session a week. H was part of this program during his first couple of years at the school, and I know with it was great seeing the progress he made with one-on-one help. Now that J is in preschool, I have the opportunity to help someone else. The program should be up and running in the next week of 2.

After I’d spoken to the LAP coordinator, I had some time to fill in while waiting for the boys to finish school, so I covered a few books – there always seems to be plenty to cover. It can be therapeutic or darn right frustrating, depending on the covering used. It looks like they have some good stuff this year.

I haven’t committed to helping out in the tuck shop at this stage, one step at a time.

So what would you expect to pay? ...But wait, there’s more!

Apologies to Tim Shaw.

There’s an original 1930s house near us that was sold over a year ago, and ever since, the owners have been working on it all weekend, every weekend. First the very old pencil pines at the front went, then jackhammers could be heard going all hours of the day and night for several weeks. Thankfully it quietened down a bit and the work continued unabated. We have been waiting to see if anyone was going to take up residence. Yes we’re secretly nosey neighbours.

Well, our question has been answered. The property has been put on the market. The first open inspection was held over the weekend. I didn’t go for a sticky, but I did a virtual tour on the net. The house has been totally gutted and some walls moved. It has 3 bedrooms, Lounge/Dining, galley style Kitchen (space provided for dishwasher and fridge) and Laundry. The main bedroom has an ensuite and walk in robe. The main bathroom has spa, vanity, toilet and shower all along the one wall, but no vanity mirror. They have polished the floorboards, painted the interior in light neutral tones, the window treatments are Venetian blinds and they look to have installed ducted airconditioning. Access from the house to the backyard is via the laundry. Being on a corner block, the property has side access, as well as from the front. They cleaned all the stonework and had the tiled roof re-sealed. It looks very neat.


OK, so what would you expect to pay for this delightful property? Well, they’re asking $550,000!!! I think they may be living in dreamland. I can only assume they were buoyed by the $716,000 realised for a much nearby, much larger house a few months ago.

Time will tell.

The rain on the planes

We were “blessed” with a downpour during a thunderstorm late yesterday afternoon. I suggested to the boys they go outside and play in the rain, thinking that they wouldn't. Well, both went outside. H did a “flying” lap of the backyard, came up to the back door then took off for another “flying” lap. J (H’s shadow) followed suit, of course.

H returned to the back door soaked and muttered; “That was a really silly thing to do!” Funny how it can take a while for reality to sink in.

Breast Cancer is in the headlines again

Sheryl Crow has undergone breast cancer surgery. By the course of treatment, it looks like it was detected quite early, so the odds are definitely with her. I wish you all the best, Sheryl. I hope your "roast and toast" goes well - keep up with the moisturiser.

One thing I found rather interesting were the stats she quoted, 1 in 7 women in the US will be diagnosed with breast cancer at some time in their lives. Here in Australia, the quoted figure is 1 in 11 before the age of 75. I’ve always considered myself a number 11, in more ways than one.

Helping our kids and ourselves

On Wednesday I had the opportunity to sit, have a coffee and listen to an Educational and Clinical Psychologist (I’ll call him Tom) talk about helping children (and their parents) settle into school life.

I was rather slack and didn’t take notes – the thought never crossed my mind until it was too late. Thanks to the school’s weekly newsletter, I have a wrap up of the discussions.

Establishing routines with the children from Sunday night to Friday afternoon including:

* set bedtimes
* set reading times
* morning and afternoon job checklists, ie : “These are the things I need to do”
- packing their school bag
- eating their breakfast
- getting dressed by themselves
- brushing teeth, etc.

He stressed the need to introduce these jobs slowly so as not to overload them, He suggested one job every two weeks with lots of rewards and praise along the way.

Tom also spoke about the importance of being punctual when dropping off and picking up children from school as this is often a cause for concern for children.

Getting enough sleep:

Children need approximately ten hours sleep a night from Reception to Year 3. They should wake naturally. If you need to wake them, they are not receiving enough sleep. He stressed the important role of sleep in terms of concentration and learning.

Communication between parents, teachers and children:

Tom talked about the importance of role modeling from parents and other close adults (aunts, uncles, grandparents, etc) in terms of talking and active listening to encourage children to talk about their days and experiences. At night or on the way home from school, instead of asking “How was school today?” and “What did you do?”, and receiving the responses of “OK” or “Nothing”, try talking to your child about your day, including the good and he bad. Children may not want to talk at first, but will gradually become more confident and open given the right opportunities and time.

Tom also spoke about the importance of keeping the lines of communication with teachers and the school open – not just when things go wrong, but to acknowledge when things are going well too!

Friendships:

We need to model positive communication and interactions with others. He encouraged parents to become involved in the school community, to get to know other parents to help foster children’s friendships outside of school hours.


In the end, it all boils down to doing what works for you as a family, and for us all to have happy children going to school.

And in closing, the ages of children:

0-12 years - we are our children’s teachers
13-17 years - we are our children’s motivators
18 years onwards - if we get the first 2 right, we will be our children’s friends.

3 Weeks

Tomorrow is the end of Week 3, Term 1 and J will be at the end of his first week of full days (he goes 3 days a week at the moment).

Preschool has been brilliant for J. He’s been champing at the bit, rearing to go. His demeanour has improved out of sight and his artistic skills are starting to emerge. J’s into painting and drawing people and other recognisable things now – 3 weeks ago this would not have happened.

He tells me that he can do these things now because he’s 4!

J has astounded his teachers with his ability with numbers –another engineer in the making?

All children new to the school will be screened by a speech pathologist over the next 2 weeks. Here’s hoping they don’t find anything out of the ordinary with J – I don’t know that I want to go there again. It’s funny, when you have one child who has had problems and “been through the mill”, it’s hard to not have doubts about your younger child, in the back of your mind.

H is enjoying school too. He’s a big Year 2 kid now, and at the top of the peaking order in his sub school. Sadly, I have to put time limits on his reading so the poor boy can get enough sleep.

He is into his 3rd week of bumper bowling - he managed 3 spares today. He was very pleased with himself and we’re proud of him too. I still shudder every time he “throws” the ball down – I’m sure there must be huge dents in that lovely polished wooden surface!

Oh, BIG announcement….. drum roll please…..

Are you sitting down? Comfy?

DH and I might actually venture out to lunch tomorrow, as a couple!

I hope you haven’t come over all faint…… where are those smelling salts?

I think we’ll start small and local, and work our way up. Maybe we’ll go up into the Adelaide hills next week – hmmmm, I’d better do a little research and see what’s available. It’s been so darned long, I’m WAY out of touch.

DH has been advised by his doctor to try fish oil to help his dicky knee. I’ve been giving thought to it myself for the last few months, but we all know what a procrastinator I am. I bought some of the odourless variety the other day and opened the economy sized tub last night and braved it. I’m hoping they might help with my joints which may be feeling the effects of Tamoxifen, although T is supposed to protect the bones. If only I could get rid of these horrid lower leg itches that make me scratch, sometimes until (and continue after) I draw blood. Other women on T have noticed they suffer this problem and have been told that it’s not the T, than again, the professionals say many things are not related to taking it, but we all have our doubts.

This “warm” and humid weather has certainly been playing havoc with my hot flushes. I really object to sweating around the eyeballs and having it run down my face from my forehead and off the end of my nose, and down my back and front. Although I don’t drink much, I really should consider giving up coffee and alcohol altogether, especially during the summer months. Hmmmm, can't be too many more pleasures left to lose!

I might add my latest revelation, or something close to it to my "Quotes" list; “I have an excellent memory, it’s the recall that’s dodgy.”

10 days in February

Where have they gone?

Valentines’ Day has come and gone for another year. Incidently, the 40th anniversary of the introduction of decimal currency shared the day this year. I still remember “Dollar Bill” gracing the few and far between TV screens, singing away to the tune of “Click Go the Shears”.

In come the dollars and in come the cents
To replace the pounds and the shillings and the pence
Be prepared for change when the coins begin to mix
On the fourteenth of February 1966.

Chorus:
Clink go the coins, clink, clink, clink
Change over day is closer than you think
Learn the value of the coins and the way that they appear
And things will be much smoother when the decimal point is here.

In come the dollars and in come the cents
To replace the pounds and the shillings and the pence
Be prepared folks when the coins begin to mix
On the fourteenth of February 1966.

J, my baby turned 4 yesterday. It seems hard to believe. All of a sudden, I've felt there’s a big jump from being 3 to being 4.

His birthday celebrations started on Friday at preschool. The frog invasion began with 28 cakes for children and teachers (and one for H) Evidently they were a hit.


I arrived early for pick up and the kids were in the playground. Several were playing “What’s the Time Mr Wolf”. Most of the kids were trying to get caught! Ahhh, 3 and 4 year olds really are such fun to watch.

Anyway, the amphibian invasion continued yesterday with J’s birthday cake.


I still have the remnants of green and blue food colouring around my fingernails.

We invited a girlfriend and her 2 daughters (one is in J’s class) over for a non-party. DH cooked a bbq lunch, the kids had time in the pool and played mostly in the backyard. It was 24.5C, lovely to be outside, so that's where we sat (and ate) all afternoon, in the shade of the brolly. Time flew by and we ended up ordering pizza for dinner.

My blue tongued boys were total wrecks by the end of the day and went off to sleep as soon as their heads hit their pillows.

The monthly measure up of the boys was done today. J is 115cm and H 143.5cm. Surprisingly, J is 6cm shorter than H was at the same age, but still taller than all the kids in his class and any other kid his age I know. I must remember to “throw them on the scales” too.

H has taken a keen interest in 10 pin bowling. He’s been to a couple of bowling birthday parties and we went down a couple of weeks ago for him and DH to have a game of bumper bowls. Well, he still liked it so we put him in for a “come and try” session. The interest was still high so we signed him up as a regular. It’s funny to see him playing with other kids his age as he’s so much taller. People just don’t understand why a “10 year old” would be playing with 6-7 year olds – poor kid. He still wants to have his 7th birthday party there. Only a month to go, we’ll see.

The very persistent native

It seems we have one very determined tree. No matter what befalls it, the thing somehow manages to survive.
Let’s set the scene

Not long after buying this property in the early 80s, we set about getting rid of unwanted, non-productive fruit and nut trees. A replanting spree followed. At the time, the big thing was to plant native gardens.

I studied the Woods and Forests’ catalogue diligently to select trees and shrubs that suited our immediate climate - well mostly. DH had this “thing” about Tasmaniam Bluegums (TBG) “Eucalyptus globulus” – errrr, they have rapid growth and can reach 50m! “Luckily” for us, there was a smaller version of the tree, “Eucalyptus globulus ‘compacta’”, a baby of up to 10m tall. We chose a couple of bottlebrushes – what Aussie garden is complete without one – and a Red Capped Gum (RCG) “Eucalyptus erythrocorys”, not what you’d call a lovely structured tree, but it produces large red capped gum nuts, followed by even larger yellow blossoms which are keenly sought after by the local colourful parrots.


It’s floral beauty has not prevented it earning the wrath of DH. We also chose a Cootamundra Wattle (CW) “Acacia baileyana”, a tree with lovely blueish fern like foliage and masses of fluffy little yellow “balls” in winter, Coastal Rosemary “Westringia” and others whose names escape me.

We then made many pilgrimages to the W&F Belair Nursery. Small tube seedlings were bought – it is the most economical way of buying natives, around $1 each at the time – bargain! Planting and careful tending ensued.

The TBG was planted near the back fence, right in the middle. We thought if it ever fell over, it should just spare the house. The red-capped gum went in a little closer to the house and more to one side of the yard and a bottle brush next to that. The CW was planted nearer the house, but by the side fence.

In June 1983, Mum gave us a Lilly Pilly (LP) “Acmena smithii” which she had mistakenly bought for her garden, but couldn’t use as it required too high a rainfall. That was planted sort of behind and to one side of the RCG, about in line with the TBG.

In 1985 we bought a grafted macadamia nut tree from Perry’s Fruit and Nut Nursery for the exorbitant price of $22. It was planted “next” to the bottlebrush.

So we had a backyard with many natives, along with orange, apricot and nectarine trees.

The days of backyard burning were still with us at that stage and we regularly disposed of burnable rubbish in our incinerator which stood next to the TBG. This tree only suffered mildly from the rampant flames.

Now to our stubborn tree

The tree in question is of course, the RCG. In it’s early days, it seemed to be plagued with borers, an onslaught that kept on for many years. It survived.

DH was a bit of a pyromaniac and tended to burn refuse that would not fit in the incinerator, under my beloved RCG. The poor thing got quite singed after one particular episode. It survived.

The TBG did grow quickly and around 5 years after we planted it, we decided it was rapidly becoming dangerously tall, so DH took on the lumberjack mantle. The lower branches were removed and cut up, then the main trunk with the top branches attached was axed. You guessed it, it fell on one side of the RCG, breaking off all the branches on that side. It survived.

After the TBG stump was removed (DH again), I decided that the LP needed to be moved, so a 5’ high tree and surrounding soil was dug out my me, dragged about 20 feet and shoved in the TBG stump hole. We have since had a shed built where the LP used to be.

Fast-forward to January 2004 and it was time to get out backyard landscaped. It had endured many years of neglect and building alterations. Unfortunately, there were plants that didn’t fit into our new plan. So of the trees that had survived, the CW and RCG had to go, much to DH’s relief. They were cut down and the stumps removed.

About mid 2005, I noticed some very familiar leaves appearing above the ground where the RCG used to be. You guessed it, it was growing back!

Roll on summer and DH decided that there were too many weeds to pull/dig out, so he sprayed them, along with my RCG. The poor thing withered up and died. I really thought that would be the end of this poor tree's struggle of survival, how wrong was I!

I was out doing a little weeding today, when I once again saw some very familiar furry leaves rising up between the dead twigs of it’s last resurrection. It’s baaaaack!!!!!!


I think this tree really has it in for DH.

It seems my beloved Red Capped Gum has suffered a similar fate to me (although not in the same order); it’s been diagnosed with cancer, undergone radiotherapy, radical surgery (twice) and chemotherapy, and it still manages to thrive. Is it trying to tell us something?

My baby started school today

Today was the first day of the new school year so we were up bright and early. We made it out the door by 7.45am, amazing!! The obligatory “1st day photos” up against the brick wall were taken. When H started preschool, we developed a new system of height measurement – house bricks (brick courses). H is now 17HB and J 13.5-14HB! I looked back and H was 14HB when he started preschool.

We settled H to his new classroom (Year 2), then took J into the preschool. After the first 2 weeks of half days for settling in, J’ll attend 3 full days a week. Yes, I have been looking forward to this day, but also thinking it sad that I’m ‘losing” my baby. J has been so looking forward to starting, he’s been eagerly counting down the number of sleeps.

We had “interview day” yesterday to meet the teachers, hand over the necessary stationery and paperwork, and get briefed on the classroom routine. I’m surprised I actually remembered everything and was organised.

I started being a little selfish today by having a couple of quiet coffees with DH and a girlfriend, then going shopping with my girlfriend. It was sooo nice to be able to relax. I foresee many more "selfish" moments coming up! Hmmmm, coffee mornings, shopping expeditions, movie screenings, craft days, lazy days; can you see where this is leading?

Anyway, J had a great time, no tears (I did OK too). He did a drawing, a painting and played with coloured glass beads on the overhead projector making some wonderful patterns, so his teacher told us. He did get a little grumpy when he was told it was time to go home, he wanted to stay all day! I hope his enthusiasm continues – it is the start of a 14 year journey through the school. Why do I immediately start to feel a lot older when I say that?

Poking fun at boobs

The following “funnies” have been around seemingly forever, and done the rounds countless times. They never cease to make me smile. Is it my evilness, wishful thinking, or just my wicked odd-ball sense of humour?


Your Honour - In Mitigation

I actually kept my mammogram appointment. I was met with, "Hi, I'm Belinda!" This perky clipboard carrier smiled from ear to ear, tilted her head to one side and crooned, "All I need you to do is step into this room here, strip to the waist, then slip on this gown. Everything clear?"

I'm thinking, "Belinda ... try decaf. This ain't rocket science."

Belinda skipped away to prepare the chamber of horrors. Call me crazy, but I suspect a man invented this machine. It takes a perfectly healthy cup size of 36-B to a size 38-LONG in less than 60 seconds.

Also, girls aren't made of sugar and spice and everything nice...it's Spandex. We can be stretched, pulled and twisted over a cold 4-inch piece of square glass and still pop back into shape.

With the right side finished, Belinda flipped me (literally) to the left and said, "Hmmmm. Can you stand on your tippy toes and lean in a tad so we can get everything?"

"Fine," I answered. I was freezing, bruised and out of air, so why not use the remaining circulation in my legs and neck and finish me off? My body was in a holding pattern that defied gravity (with my other boob wedged between those two 4" pieces of (square glass) when we heard, then felt, a zap!

Complete darkness and the power went off!

"What?" I yelled.

"Oh, maintenance is working. Bet they hit a snag." Belinda headed for the door.

"Excuse me! You're not leaving me in this vise alone, are you?" I shouted.

Belinda kept going and said, "Oh, you fussy puppy...the door's wide open so you'll have the emergency hall lights. I'll be rightttt backkkk.

Before I could shout, "NOOOO!" she disappeared.

And that's exactly how Bubba and Earl, maintenance men extraordinaire, found me, half-naked and part of me dangling from the Jaws of Life and the other part smashed between glass!

After exchanging polite "Hi, how's it going" type greetings, Bubba (or possibly Earl) asked, to my utter disbelief, if I knew the power was off.
Trying to disguise my hysteria I replied with as much calmness as possible. "Uh, yes...yes I did, thanks."

"You bet, take care," Bubba replied and waved good-bye as though I'd been standing in the line at the grocery store.

Two hours later, Belinda breezes in wearing a sheepish grin and making no attempt to suppress her amusement, she said, "Oh I am soooo sorry!

The power came back on and I totally forgot about you! And silly me, I went to lunch. Are we upset?"

And that, Your Honour, is exactly how her head ended up between the clamps.


The Boob Poem..............

For years and years they told me,
Be careful of your breasts.
Don't ever squeeze or bruise them.
And give them monthly tests.
So I heeded all their warnings,
And protected them by law.
Guarded them very carefully,
And I always wore my bra.
After 30 years of astute care,
My gyno, Dr. Pruitt,
Said I should get a Mammogram.
"O.K," I said, "let's do it."
"Stand up here real close" she said,
(She got my boob in line),
"And tell me when it hurts," she said,
"Ah yes! Right there, that's fine."
She stepped upon a pedal,
I could not believe my eyes!
A plastic plate came slamming down,
My hooter's in a vice!
My skin was stretched and mangled,
From underneath my chin.
My poor boob was being squashed,
To Swedish Pancake thin.
Excruciating pain I felt,
Within it's vise-like grip.
A prisoner in this vicious thing,
My poor defenceless tit!
"Take a deep breath" she said to me,
Who does she think she's kidding?!?
My chest is mashed in her machine,
And woozy I am getting.
"There, that's good," I heard her say,
(The room was slowly swaying.)
"Now, let's have a go at the other one."
Have mercy, I was praying.
It squeezed me from both up and down,
It squeezed me from both sides.
I'll bet SHE'S never had this done,
To HER tender little hide.
Next time that they make me do this,
I will request a blindfold.
I have no wish to see again,
My knockers getting steamrolled.
If I had no problem when I came in,
I surely have one now.
If there had been a cyst in there,
It would have gone "ker-pow!"
This machine was created by a man,
Of this, I have no doubt.
I'd like to stick his balls in there,
And see how THEY come out.

Curl Waiting

Ahhhh, the joys of hair!

Hair is one of those things that defines and identifies us, at least on the outside. When it’s taken away, you feel like you’ve lost some of your femininity – I should be used to that after breast surgery and being given drugs that stop the female body doing what it’s still supposed to be doing, perhaps that’s asking too much.

When I was a little girl, my mother used to put “Curly Pet” on my hair to encourage curls. She didn’t want me to have a lifelong battle with dead straight hair. I vividly remember that yellow bottle with the blue sketch of a smiling Shirley Temple look-alike, and my screaming as Mum endeavoured to remove all the tangles – and I had shortish hair!

Well, all that work was in vein, the best I ever had were some “kinks” with longer hair.

As a child, like most girls, I wanted long hair. I had a stumbling block to my ambitions, Mum. Mum had long hair which she wore plated and wrapped around her crown. Every time I’d try to plead my case, I’d get the same answer, “one with long hair in the family is enough!” Definitely the immovable object.

Mum ran out of excuses when I was around 10 when she had her hair cut short for the first time in her life. She had it permed, so was finally granted her wish for curls.

For a large swag of the next 33 years I had glorious long hair. There were a couple of “hiccups”, one while at uni when I had a cut and very curly perm, another not long after we married when I grew tired of long hair and went to shoulder length for a couple of years. Long hair was so easy to look after. Just wash it and leave it, or give it a quick partial dry.

Then came breast cancer and the ensuing chemo.

Due to the drugs used, I was told I’d lose my hair, yes, a 100% certainty. It was not a happy thought. I couldn’t stand the thought of turbans. For me, I might as well have “cancer” tattooed across my forehead. I still had to mix with people every day, something that’s unavoidable when you have a young child at school. Being the person I am, I’d rather blend in than stand out.

So I went out and bought myself a wig, and 7 days into my first chemo, gathered a couple of friends, some canapés, bubbly and headed off to the hairdresser to get all my hair cut off. I wanted to make it an event, but it didn’t stop me from crying the whole time.

11 days later my hair started falling out in large clumps in the shower. Wash hair, wash hair off body, towel dry hair, use hair dryer to blow hair off body, and then get dressed.

The worst part of hair loss was actually waiting for it all to fall out. When it does, it’s almost a relief, which is just as well as it was all gone in 4 days.

One thing I delighted in was that I didn’t get a dose of head lice when the rest of the family did, although guess who had to treat everyone! Yes there are advantages to being carefree hair free.

After 3 months of chemo, they changed my drugs and ensured me that my hair would start to grow back. It took a while as it has to grow from the follicle and push its way up through the scalp before you see anything.

Another 4 months on, I felt I had enough hair covering to brave the public without my wig. It was liberating. And wouldn’t you know it, it was coming back curly!!!

So life had come full circle and Mum had a curly haired daughter.

I never could understand Mum’s total lack of enthusiasm when asked “Are you happy now?” heck I now had what she’d always wanted for me.

Do you know how hard it is to get used to curls when “hey presto” they appear unsolicitored? And just when you’re getting used to them, it starts coming through straighter and then you really don’t know what to do with your hair, the whole thing is so unpredictable.

13 months after I lost it all, I had my first haircut and 5 months further on, another 2 cuts and am still trying to decide what to do with my locks. Do I grow long tresses again, do I keep it shorter, or do I go somewhere in between? I guess I have a little time to decide while waiting for it to make up its mind whether it’s going to kink like it did as a little girl, or push me in a new direction.

Bread and Nine

I finally got off my bum and took my possessed bread maker in to get looked at, before it’s warranty expires early next month. Yes I’ve been very slack.

After much deliberation, they decided the best and least painful course of action was to replace it with a new one. So, starting tomorrow, we’ll again have the aroma of freshly baked bread permeating the air.

The very active topic of discussion on breakfast radio this morning was; what happened to Channel 9’s balls? Apparently, the start of their 50th year of broadcasting has brought about a re-branding, and the 9 balls have gone!

The dots were given a “holiday” several years ago, but had been back in the network’s promos since around 1988. Losing balls is one thing, losing marbles is quite another.