Not what I had intended to write ....

So I was going to write a little piece for Christmas about Santa, belief and everything that goes with it, but to tell the story would leave too much out there for my kids (and possibly other people’s) so I can’t quite bring myself to do it. 

If you’re curious, drop me a line and I’ll tell you a story!

So in other, completely unrelated news, over the last month or two, there’s been some minor developments in the top order of the household. Every now and then when I’d catch Michael or Sam in profile, it was hard not to notice that the bum fluff was getting a little bit longer.

So Christmas eve was the day that Michael and Sam both had their first shaves and because Michael happened to be too engrossed in a computer game, Sam went first. I haven’t pointed it out to Michael yet, but for ever more Sam will be able to say that he shaved before his older brother. Even if it was by a mere 15 minutes!

Ultimate Backyard Cricket

I was at home on Saturday afternoon, happily roasting a couple of bits of pork on the spit, waiting for the time when we’d be leaving to take Sam to the movies with friends to celebrate his birthday when the phone rang. It was a friend of Sam’s Mum.

“Toby would like to know if Sam would like to come over to our place tomorrow night and play some backyard cricket with Ricky Ponting.”

For the foreigners (particularly those from that North American continent) that read this, that’s probably the equivalent of the national hockey team captain.

Sam had a bit of a funny grin on his face when he was asked. It was nothing compared to the silly grin that I had on my face as I was doing the asking. For a moment I actually thought that he was going to say that he wasn’t really that interested, but I think he could tell that it was unlikely that I was going to let him get away with no as an answer.

There’s probably a bit of an explanation required at this point, because when the call came through, I knew that it was genuine. So the more likely and response that would have come out at another time, Like, “Ha Ha very funny,” or something less polite didn’t even cross my mind.

Sam’s friend Toby is in remission and has been a recipient of help through the Ricky Ponting Foundation, run by Ricky and Rianna. A couple of years ago, when we’d just returned from Canada and after Sam had made friends with Toby, he’d had his picture in the Advertise with Ricky at the Adelaide oval ahead of the test match. So when Ricky is in town, he catches up with Toby.

On Australia Day the Ponting Foundation is organising The Biggest Game of Cricket to raise money for young Australians with cancer and their families so the opportunity was taken as part of the launch to have a game in the backyard with Tony and some of his friends – one of whom was Sam.

Needless to say, Mum and Dad both dropped him off and took the chance to have a bit of a gawk and meet the former Australian Cricket Captain. It was a great opportunity and I think that we’ll have to look at hosting our own game of cricket on Australia Day, especially since oval renovations have seen Adelaide robbed of cricket on possibly our most traditional day of cricket.

We managed to get Thomas’ bat signed as well as his cousin’s (on his birthday even, which was lucky since we skipped out of his celebration for a couple of hours to do so) and had a great time watching the kids get the chance to play cricket with one of their idols. It was very generous and an exposure to another side of Ricky to that which we usually get to see via the media.

And as we all pointed cameras at him whilst he played with the kids and sat and ate and posed for photos, it was also an eye opener into what it must be like to live a celebrity life-style! Far from private.

City to Bay 2012

Last year I set out to run the City to Bay with little expectation. This year two things were different. Firstly, I had a goal to run the 12km race in under 1 hour. It didn’t have to be a lot. I would have been happy with a time of 59:59. It wasn’t going to be an easy achievement. Secondly, I’d convinced Michael to enter the run with me.

I trained as well as I could have managed this year, fitting it in around soccer, life and other general commitments.

I had a training program. I even had a GPS unit that helped me train to that program. What I didn’t have was single-minded devotion. In order to have done that I would have had to have stopped playing soccer and avoided all those other commitments that I mentioned before. I haven’t reached a point where I am prepared to do that to meet that goal of running the race in under an hour.

What I didn’t set myself as a goal was beating Michael. It never even occurred to me that it might be something worth aiming at.

Michael didn’t train. He played soccer for the school and did PE and that was about it. A couple of weeks before the race I suggested that he might like to come for a run with me. We jogged around to the local park, running together along the way. That was the warm up. When we started running, off he went. Not sprinting away, but starting quicker right from the get-go. It was only a small park, about 200m per lap. I watched him gradually stretch his lead and then gradually mow me down. He went past me and just kept going.

I didn’t delude myself into thinking that I should try and keep up, or improve enough to beat him, it simply wasn’t going t happen.

I think he may have run with me on 2 more occasions after that.

The first of those, his second run with me was an exercise in speed which meant spaced runs at higher velocities. When you’re busting your gut to finish the session off, what you need is your 15 year old sun running along beside you, maintaining the pace, but darting off to the side to jump up and rip leaves off trees, bounce of trunks and generally letting you know that not only is he not knackered and in danger of a heart attack, but that he’s a little bored and looking for some fun too!

His third run with me was the nice ‘taper’ run that I did 3 days before the event. A relatively easy exercise, not meant to wear you out too much. Michael was running with me, but it was clear once again that he was holding back. The fact that he was running along the top of 3 inch wide brick walls was probably the biggest clue!

On the day, I had one secret hope, not that I was focused on beating him. The only thing that would give me a sniff was if he ran out of puff because he’d never run 12kms before.

My aim was to chew through the race at 4:57 mins/km which in theory would have had me over the line in 59:24. I would have been quite ecstatic. I asked Michael at the start if he was going to run with me for a bit and then take off when I was slowing him down too much. His answer was very noncommittal.

He did run with me for just a bit. Basically right up to the start line, then as we crossed North Terrace, he bolted like a rabbit out the gate, up onto the footpath, round a couple of slow-pokes and off into the crowd.

I was on pace until the 7km mark but it was around then the GPS started telling me to hurry up. It continued to do this until the end of the event when I crossed the line in 60mins and 43 seconds.

43 damn seconds. It’s amazing just how close that seems and yet I know that I simply didn’t have it in me to drag that time back. I was stuffed. And waiting for me just past the finish line was Michael. He’d finished in 57:57.

My only consolation was that he was in about as much pain as I was and complained that he’d had to walk a bit because he’d cramped up. Some consolation. He walked a bit and still beat me over the line.

The other thing I worked out when I downloaded the data from my device was that I’d actually run a distance of 12.2kms. The time I’d run the race in was actually pretty much bang on (actually a fraction under) 5 min kms. So if I’d been able to run the damn thing straight instead of around all the people that were slower than me and if it had actually been just 12kms I would have hit my target!

But I still didn’t run the race in under an hour.

Looks like I’ll have to do it again next year.

14 the second

Today is Sam’s 14^th Birthday. I really needed another one of those annual reminders for me to freak out about just where all the time went. As I left for work this morning Sam came and gave me a hug as I wished him Happy Birthday. The fact that he was looking eye to eye served notice as well. Not long now until he’ll be taller than me.

So, what to say about Sam at 14. Something that he can look back on and be proud of or something for him to look back at and blush? The reality is that the latter would probably be hard to come up with because he’s such a good kid.

Sam marches to the beat of his own drum, taking on what he wants to and pursuing it with diligence and skill. He took up volleyball last year, something none of the others have shown and interest in. He also started playing tennis, but in his own Sammy way, only played non-competitively. I was encouraged to hear him say this year that he was going to play competitively. Saturday just gone was his first ever competitive match and he walked away victor in both his singles and doubles. Yes, I am very proud.

Through the winter Sam played soccer and did well but also took on something else of a non-traditional sport for the Temby tribe – table tennis. Not only did he give it a go, but held down the A4 position and was part of a team that went through their entire season undefeated, an epic achievement.

Outside of his sport he has continued to work hard at the scholastic side of life with rewards to match the effort. He has a nice group of friends and is the person most likely to be asked for when the phone rings on a weekend. Or you could find him setting up a server for minecraft or occasionally doing his own thing in the yard.

I set the kids a challenge earlier this year to see how much they could improve their soccer juggling skills. For each 10 juggles they achieved they’d get a mars bar (only the first time they got a number mind you). Sam was the one that took it most to heart. I don’t know if it was representative of his love of chocolate or just the challenge. I like to think it was the latter. Within a month he’d managed to beat my record and worked up to something in the order of 80 juggles. It was great to see him disappear out in the yard and just go for it over and again.

He still hasn’t come to terms with the fact that wearing long pants isn’t going to see the end of the world hastened and would be happiest if the entire world only wore shorts, but we’re getting through that and he’ll at least wear them when informed there really is no other option.

It should be noted that Sam is still the child ‘most likely to react to his sister’ but I think deep down he really does love her. After all, he makes her lunch (and that of his brothers) every day!

As noted before, I am very proud of Super Sam and particularly enjoy the fact that even at 14 he’s not adverse to giving the old man a hug.

Happy Birthday Sam.

12 the third

Thomas is 12; the last of the boys in his last year before becoming a teenager. There is only one more year until we have three of them in the house. In four more years we’ll have to survive a year of four teenagers. Heaven forbid.

Thomas continues to be very much Thomas. I know that sounds kind of lame, but like all kids, he really does have his own personality and it means something to me. Thomas is the child in the family I would deem most likely to be the class clown.

Thomas decided this year that he’d like to play club soccer and so we took him out to Plympton Bulldogs where he played in their under 12 team. It has been great for him. He’s come a long way in terms of his confidence on the field and played some really good games of football, even if it was something of a task to make sure that he got to training and games each week!

Thomas still retains his capacity for deep thought, surprising me every now and then with a question about the more serious side of life. He’s a thinker, even if most of the thought is consumed in coming up with ways in which to be funny.

Thomas’ speech has come a long way from the early days of his development and its rare now that I feel the need to stop and get him to repeat what he’s said. I am so proud of how hard he’s worked through his whole life to date to get to where he is with it that I just can’t put it into words any better than that.

Thomas is also perhaps the child most likely to compromise, sometimes caught between being in the younger pairing with Emily or wanting to be one of the boys. He generally retains his sense of humour though occasionally, just every now and then decides he’s had enough and that someone else should have a turn at taking one for the team!

I dearly enjoy the time that I get to spend with Thomas and am as proud of him as I am of all the kids.

Happy Birthday Thomas.

The Great Uncertain

Things are getting interesting around work at the moment. We’ve started to talk to people about their futures. The joy of construction work is that when the project is done, the big question on everyone’s lips is, “What’s next.”

We’re in an odd position in that the company moved away from construction some time back but are now making more of a concerted effort to get back into it. One of the things that we lack from that initial move away from the business is the people that are used to moving from project to project on a regular basis. So we have a team of people that are in some cases, going through the process for the first time. If there was another big project looming on the horizon it would be a lot easier, but the big challenge at the moment is that there isn’t such a beast in the offing.

It means that when you sit down to have a conversation with people about where they want to go and what they want to do, the part where we tell them what we have to offer them is sadly lacking. It’s funny how vague promises and commitments don’t seem to fill people with lots of warm and fuzzy feelings. Suddenly morale around the office plummets as people are forced to start thinking about their futures (not that they weren’t already doing so).

On top of all this, as I try to maintain some level of positive morale and keep the productivity up, I of course am going through exactly the same thing. It can be hard to tell people to hang in there, that they will be looked after, that something will come up when at the same time you’re wondering how true that might be.

I’ve been with the company nearly 12 years now. Is it time for a change? What direction do I take? Will I even have a choice in the matter?

It’s the big uncertain.

Exactly where you stand

One of those fun things about your children growing up is that they start to communicate with you. Apparently it doesn't last, but well at least there's a phase where they do. Having said that though, it's a two edged sword.

Sometimes it's a good thing ...

And then at other times you think maybe it was better when they couldn't ...

Which ever way you look at it, at least you know exactly where you stand!

A girl named Floor ...

A Girl Named Floor …

The other week whilst in Brisbane catching up with Nick, Ramona and the boys we were also lucky enough to see Fons and Yoris again.

Now for those not in the know, Fons (not to be mistaken for the Fonz  is one of Caroline’s innumerable many relations … a cousin’s son or some such which probably has a more precise genealogical term for those that way inclined. Fons and Yoris stayed with us for a couple of weeks in Adelaide as part of their adventures travelling around the world and we had a great time. It was a happy coincidence that they would be in Brisbane at the same time that we were scheduled to be there.

We managed to hook up with them on a drizzly day (because that’s mainly what Brisvegas dished up in the week that we were there) and decided that we’d take the Brisbane ferry for a ride up and down the river, stopping at the Gallery of Modern Art for a bit of culture.

We caught up with them at the Ferry terminal and they introduced us to Flora, a Dutch girl that they’d met whilst volunteering in Indonesia or some such that had caught up with them in Australia.

It was all good, but at some time during the day Fons happened to mention to me that Flora was just the name that she happened to introduce herself as to English speakers. It turns out that her real name is Floor.

Yes, that’s right, like the thing that you walk on. Now how the hell was I supposed to meet a girl named Floor and then just say nothing? Just let it go, forget it ever happened? Not likely, but by God I bit my tongue for a long time. I walked past the sign that said “caution, wet floor” and I didn’t say a word.

Quietly I catalogued the things I could have said, not trusting myself. It was like a valve holding back the pressure. Something was going to give.

Then we lost her. She wandered into a different gallery and we were thinking about leaving and so started looking.

I said to Caroline … what do we do, go to reception and tell them we lost Floor? I could just imagine the questions coming back … “you lost the floor?”

“No not the floor, Floor. A girl … named floor … she’s not a walkover you know …”

I mean once you start dropping “the” into the name, the number of one liners increases exponentially. I just don’t think that I can write them all down here.

Just think along the lines of please don’t wipe your feet on the floor … a floor so clean you could eat off it …

And perhaps I should just leave it at that … I’m sure you can come up with plenty on your own.

Clearly someone’s parents weren’t thinking about English translations all those years ago J