Japan 2019 - Day 5

When the kids don’t oblige by giving you something to write about sometimes you just have to go out and do it yourself. That’s why this update is a little delayed, but I’ll get to that later.

We woke up yesterday to another bluebird day as they say, with the sun shining and blue skies over the ski fields. It was our last day in Madarao and we were only going to be able to ski for half of it before we had to negotiate our way to our next destination, Matsumoto. We packed, made sure everything was right for our departure, then made our way out to the slopes where the weather was truly gorgeous.

I decided that if I was going to do a speed run, I’d be best of doing it early in the day so I went for it on the first run. Now I think I wrote two years ago about the dangers of knowing how fast you’re going and the desire to push the boundaries. I’d told myself before this trip that I wasn’t going to worry about topping that last trip. But speed is a drug. On that first run of the day I got to the bottom and my watch told me my max speed was 98km/hr and I didn’t feel like I’d taken the fastest route down. It was teasing me, 2km/hr short of three figures. I had to give it another go. Just one more. How good would 100km/hr look? I decided to find out.

I went straight down the mountain, a drop of 1km in a minute on the run I was skiing on. I’d waited until it was virtually clear of everyone, but it only takes one person in the wrong place at the wrong time for things to go wrong. I was flying down, well clear of the few people that were in front of me when I noticed a snowboarder moving across the mountain in front of me, not really going down, just traversing. I started angling to get around in front of him, thinking that as we were getting close to the edge of the run that he was likely to turn or simply head back the other way. But he kept coming. I angled further away. Still he came on. At the speed I was going, there really was only a second or so in which to make a decision and I decided to keep going around the front of him rather than try and turn to go behind him which I would have done had I not been going so fast.

I clipped the front of his snowboard.

Now there’s no video of what transpired next and clearly I wasn’t in a position to process what was going on at the time. At about 95km/hr I’ve clipped the snowboard and come unstuck. Things went very wrong. If I try and put the scene in my head in words, picture an ageing, not very flexible rag doll spinning and pinwheeling about three axes, smashing into the snow, skis immediately unclipping and coming to a halt in slow motion as the rag doll tumbles another twenty metres or so down the mountain.

I came to a stop, conscious and in pain. The immediate and most noticeable pain was my right arm. I looked at it and my elbow was at ninety degrees in the direction it normally is, but my fingers felt like they were reaching out in a straight line from the elbow! It took me half a second to process that. My arm hurt like all hells and my fingers felt like there were in a position that when I looked, there were none. My immediate thought was that I’d broken my arm and it was hanging at ninety degrees to where it should be.

As a manly Aussie bloke I did what anyone else would do. I took a breath, calmly continued to inspect my arm and waited to see if it was truly done.  I yelled like all the demons of hell were chasing me!

At this point I should say that I actually feel sorry for the snow-boarder whom I clipped. It must have scared the proverbial out of him to have me come through at that speed. And he and his companion were kind enough to make their way down to me with my skis and wait with me. They didn’t speak English but they waited calmly.

I lay in the snow and pictured the rest of my holiday … a ride down the mountain with the ski-patrol, a trip to hospital, dealing with insurance … it wasn’t looking great. I had no idea what to do other than lay in the snow and wait for the ski-patrol so didn’t do much more, but did manage to rein in the howling as the pain ebbed somewhat.

Fortunately as I lay there something started to happen. Where my fingers felt they were started to align with where they actually were. Then I wiggled them! Funny how such a simple thing could be so relieving. I made a fist gently and after a couple of minutes could even move my elbow. I managed to get my, helmet off (glad that I always ski with one too!) and even managed to stand up as the ski patrol and an English speaking local arrived.

Apparently the local guy had heard me screaming from the nearby chair lift and had guided the ski-patrol to me. I’m very thankful for that if embarrassed at the fact that he said you were very loud. Such a subtle understatement. Happy that I wasn’t broken too badly and would live, I waved them away and managed to ski down to where the family waited (though noted just as I skied off that Michael had just run up the last 100m of the run to where I had crashed!).

I was shaken, in pain, but okay. My elbow was weak, but I soldiered on, got on the lift and went to the top of the mountain again. I managed to ski down cautiously and it was good enough that I kept skiing most of the morning. 

I wasn’t a lot of use with the packing, but we sorted ourselves out and managed to get on the bus where I was reminded of how lucky I actually was by the English bloke that had been working as a snowboarding instructor but was on his way home with a broken collar bone.

 We made our way to Matsumoto via a bus and a couple of trains and checked into the hotel. The joy of booking hotels on line is that you never really know what you’re getting if you haven’t stayed there before. We’re in a Premier Cabin Hotel and I have to say, the rooms remind me of cruise ship cabins only perhaps smaller. Finding out that the room for four people consists of two double beds is always a joy for housing four children. We’ll survive, we will survive.

We headed out after settling in (and down after the room discovery) to have a bit of a look around town and find some dinner. We walked down an alley where we found out where all the birds in Mastumoto go at dusk, then along a couple of beautifully lit streets and found a truly quaint little bookshop apparently propped up between its modern cousins.

We kept going until we found ourselves at the castle and had an exterior preview ahead of touring the interior in the next couple of days.

We then had the task of finding dinner which was starting to turn into a Tokyo 2015 affair. With time ticking away and no great success things were getting a bit tense and to be honest, I wasn’t feeling all that great which I put down to concussion. We were on our way back to the hotel so that I could lie down when we stumbled across a reasonable looking place with a big dumpling sign out the front. I agreed to sit through the joy of watching everyone eat and within moments we were inside and perusing the menu. Let’s just say that when there was an offering of 30 dumplings, Michael was sold on what he was eating!

Though by the end of things, after giving all of four away, he wasn’t looking quite as keen as he had been at the start of the affair.

With everyone fed we retired to the hotel early to try and get some sleep.

Michael's dumpling count: 85

2016

2016

Given the lack of updates over the course of the year and the simple fact that I am on holidays and its raining, I thought I’d take a moment to put together a quick summary of our year. (though I didn’t get too far with it and am finishing it off in January!)

Waaay back in January, our year started with the excitement of a trip to Bali with the Rowlands. It was the 20th wedding anniversary and Jason planned a beach side re-commitment ceremony to surprise Bel. We were lucky enough to tag along. We had an awesome time and the fact that it wasn’t documented in my blog probably comes down to two things: How busy we were and the fact that I managed to spend at least part of the holiday turning myself inside out and couldn’t be bothered sitting down to write. 

The kids had a great time. We went white water rafting, rode bikes down the mountain, saw the monkeys, temples, snorkelled and even ate and drank a bit along the way. Michael took full advantage of the resort’s swim up bar and took on the role of drinking buddy for Bel, going cocktail for cocktail all thanks to my generosity!

The only thing that took the edge off the holiday was spending a couple of days turning my insides into my outsides. That and Cam deciding to get sick to the point of having to go to hospital on the last day and nearly missing the flight home. Alls well that ends well though.

February saw us return to work with no sign of holiday relief on the horizon. So knuckle down it was. 

We all had a good year and the biggest challenge that we collectively faced was probably adjusting to Caroline working full time at the same time that I spent much of the year travelling for work. 

Emily decided to follow in Sam’s footsteps somewhat. With Sam playing what seemed to be almost every sport that was offered, he usually had to be at school either early or late. As he was able to drive, Emily opted to go with him rather than get up almost as early to catch a bus that would get her there just in time for school. So instead she opted for getting involved in more sport herself. She did well at school for the year and all the extra curricular activities earned her her Mercedes Gold colours at the end of the year, something that not a lot of people manage to achieve. She also started playing softball with Sturt Falcons toward the end of the year just so that we don’t get to spend our Saturday afternoons relaxing (not the real reason, but certainly one of the consequences). So far it’s been good with mostly positive results, though she’s going to miss the start of the second half of the season due to other holiday commitments.

Thomas spent the year at a new school, having decided that he’d like to try a different path. He was accepted into the Australian Science and Maths School late in 2015 and so this year has been enjoying a completely different approach to learning. He has certainly revelled in the fact that there isn’t a uniform to wear. His results were pleasing and hopefully have set him up for his next 2 big years as he takes on years 11 and 12. Sport wise, having committed to a school where sport seems to be something of a distraction rather than any sort of priority, he opted to go back to playing club soccer. He went out to Adelaide University and played in their U16 side. The results were challenging, but from a personal perspective it was pleasing to see him improve significantly throughout the season. 

In addition to playing, Thomas continued with his refereeing and spent a lot of his Saturday afternoons assisting at U18 and Premier League reserves games. He enjoyed it enough that he’s planning on only refereeing in 2017 which will no doubt result in us transporting him all over the place (though much of that work load was taken up by Sam.). One more year to go of that as he managed to get his learner’s permit and by the end of 2017 should be onto his P plates. Scary stuff indeed

Sam had a big year with it being his last year of school. He approached it in typical Sam fashion: Organised, dedicated and self-driven. Given some of the horror stories that you hear from some people about how much stress there is around the family when someone is going through year 12, I can only think that we were very blessed indeed. As noted previously, he took on a lot more than just the final hear of IB. He went through the year with a significant sports commitment as well. He did give up his job at KFC so that he could focus on his studies, but other than that, there were few concessions, just a whole of lot of effort. And given that I’m finishing this off in January, I can happily report that the results are in and he has done very well. Sam also turned 18 late in the year, so you can read more about him in the post that I put up for that occasion. 

Michael has spent the year at Uni working towards his double degree (at least when he’s not sleeping or playing a computer game) The biggest change for him was probably taking up hockey. After being prodded and poked to do something physical so that he’d be at least a little bit active he came home from orientation week to announce that he was going to play, much to his mother’s delight. It added another fixture to our winter weekends and we managed to get out to a number of his games. He certainly improved a lot over the course of the season and appeared to enjoy it as well. He’s continued to be employed at Donut King for the year which has resulted in us consuming more donuts than one family really should eat, but I suspect that he’ll be looking for a change sometime soon if for no other reason than the opportunity to earn more money than one shift a week brings in.

Caroline’s biggest challenge for the year was her knees. Having had an arthroscopy during the year before she was torn as to how much involvement she should have in hockey. In the end she opted to coach and play for Uni’s Div 5 team, dropping down in the hope that the demands to run wouldn’t be quite the same and that it might preserve the knee. Sadly it seems that it didn’t pay off quite as much as she hoped and it may prove to be the last year of her career (though there’s talk of filling in occasionally in 2017 just to stay involved). 

Work wise Caroline was made permanent during the year and then later took on a step-up role replacing someone on maternity leave. She continues to enjoy what she’s doing which is always positive. About the only change that she’d really like to make in the work scene is to cut a couple of hours back to see a bit more done around the home front, especially with me travelling as much as I have been.

As for me, it could be said that 2016 was the year that I ran. I decided that if I was going to be away from home I was going to keep fit rather than sit in hotel rooms eating and drinking. I think I’ve resolved not to assault everyone with my running on Facebook this year, I’ll just leave it on Strava for those that are interested 

I decided at the end of the previous soccer season that I’d enjoyed things enough that with the team dropping back to division 3 I’d have another tilt in the reserves. After all, I fully expected that we’d take out the Reserves title and that proved to be true. We even had another run deep into the cup competition, falling in the semi-finals to the eventual winner. I was even asked to play first team a couple of times and only missed being best and fairest by one vote. Not bad for an old fart and so 2017 will see me fronting up again. 

Work has been challenging, but seems to be headed in mostly the right direction. It certainly beats being unemployed and I’ve appreciated having the full 12 months behind me 

That’s about it for us over the last year. We managed most of our traditional camping trips as well, Easter and Port Hughes and October in Mannum and will look forward to them again in 2017. Hopefully the year behind was kind to you and 2017 brings you good things as well. 

The future of Engineering

Me: Michael, do you know why the light shade is off the light over the pool table is off?
Michael: Because the light was dodgy and I was trying to get it brighter so we could play pool.
Me: Did you try the turning the dimmer switch?
Michael: What dimmer switch?
Me: The one we installed when we put the extension on about 12 years ago.
Michael: ah ...
Me: Some electrical engineer you're going to be ...

Nocteenager

<rant>

I used to have a teenager in the house. They say that when you turn 18 you're an adult (I shouuld really write about that, but well, now isn't the time). Allowed to drink, vote, take responsibility for your life. Note the word allowed in there. You don't have to do all those things. They're optional. 

Apparently my 18 year old opted out. They say that teenagers need their sleep. Its good for their (apparently) developing brains and stuff. I also happen to know from involvement in various fatigue studies and exercies that the best time to get sleep is when the body needs it. The key hours being those early hours of the day between oh, you know, about 1am and 5am. it has a  lot to do with why they say you should plan travel around not driving at those times. 

Back in the day I worked nightshift offshore for about 70 days straight. Sunset in the 'morning' and sunrise in the 'evening'. I know that it messes with your head. 

When you're a teenager though, you mess with your own head, so why would you listen to anything like that?

I now have a nocteenager. Its when your teenager becomes nocturnal. I know this because I just coined the phrase. I googled to see if anyone else had. Don't bother, they haven't and the things that showed up were disturbing so just trust me on this.

I have threatened that the next time I find him sleeping past midday i might just come in with water propelling instruments so that I can enjoy waking him up far more than i currently do. I'm pretty sure that life passes you by when you're being woken up at 3:15 in the afternoon. 

Things could be worse, don't get me wrong. There's no drugs, we know where he is at night (never far from the comptuer of the pantry) and things seem to be going okay. The first semester of Uni exams should be a good indicator. I've tried the precautionary tale. Hell I got my kcik up the bum with a taste of reality during first year uni, so I have some (very small amount of) empathy for him. But back the day, I had lectures I had to be at. Or a job to go to. Or sport to play. Hell, I just didn't seem to need to be awake at 4am so that my 12 hours of sleep would extend to the following afternoon. I had no internet, but hey, that's not the point dammit.

So yeah, I have a nocteenager and its driving me nuts. Just once I'd like to fall asleep not listening to a conversation about LOL and not worry that he's not going to be awake for one of those rare commitments that mean he has to be out of the door.

I'm not really looking for solutions and I know where to find sympathy, but its been a good while since I had a rant here so I thought I'd take the opportunity. 

*deep breaths*

</rant>

Sixteen and Ten

Yes, once again, I’ve thought long and hard about birthday posts for the kids and have managed to run much later than ever intended before putting thoughts to print. I decided that I should actually pull my finger out and get around to it though.

Emily

Back in late March, Emily made double figures. The baby of the family has actually made it to ten (Did we ever doubt it? Well maybe a little or perhaps it was her parent’s hair that was more at risk of being torn out).

What can one say about Emily at 10? Part of the reason it took so long to write this relates to how I answer that question on any given day based, which is very behaviourally influenced. Emily oscillates between being tired, grumpy and miserable and sweet as pie, between being responsible and caring and devious and deceptive. She is a living dichotomy.

She is definitely Daddy’s girl. There are things that I can ask her to do that she’ll happily jump up and do whilst if her Mother was to ask there would be hell to pay with appropriate yelling and screaming.

Emily has decided that she’s musically inclined. I deliberately say inclined rather than gifted because I think at this stage there’s more desire than natural talent. Hell with a father that couldn’t tune a guitar even after learning it for 6 years I’m blaming the genetics, not pointing fingers. Of course there’s always the chance that she managed to swindle a few genes from Nanny! For the last 2 years she has been learning the violin and this year had to add a wind instrument to the repertoire ( she could have dropped the violin but wanted to keep going). We tried to suggest that the trombone would be fun (after all, there was already one in the house and so we wouldn’t have to buy anything else) but she decided that the flute was more in line with what she’d like to play (Yes, she’s 10 - American Pie references are not required).

It would appear that Emily actually has something of a talent for the flute, being well progressed in comparison to her peers and more amazingly, actually inclined to practice of her own free will. She even managed to teach herself hot cross buns. I can’t say that I’m expecting her in the Symphony anytime soon, but it’s pleasant to see her enjoying it, even if her brothers (particularly Sam) try and tell her to stop or go somewhere where they can’t hear every time that she picks it up.

Emily loves he netball and is very excited to be playing twice a week this winter. She’s played softball through the summer and done well, but netball appears to be the sport of choice (much to her mother’s disgust). It will be interesting to see how long it is before Caroline tries to steer her more pointedly to the hockey pitch.

She is a budding fashionista , though I’m not sure based on some of the shopping ventures I’ve been involved with whether she actually has the taste for it and I know for a fact that I don’t have the wallet to support any sort of fashion habit of note. Despite (or in spite of) growing up with three older brothers that like to put her in her place and that have surrounded her with Minecraft, Call of Duty and the like, she loves nothing more than to have a girlfriend over and indulge in make overs (though like many girls her age, needs to truly learn that less is more when it comes to the make up).

On the obstinate and sneaky side, she can be a little shit brat. Getting Emily into bed requires active effort to get past all the little things that she thinks of at the last minute and then when you’ve finally managed that, there’s no guarantees. IPods, books and a myriad of other potential distractions often have to be removed from the room before she will finally give up and nod off to sleep. Checking that she is really asleep is both essential and not as easy as you’d think. She is most certainly accomplished when it comes to fake sleeping, though both Caroline and I have advanced considerably with regards to our intuition and understanding of asleep versus pretending.

Of course, when Emily decides to turn on the charm, it can be simply amazing as to how nice she can be. There are many moments when that charm is truly genuine (usually when she’s well rested and happy) and on those occasions you can find yourself smothered in hugs and cuddles and enjoying every moment and wondering if you really had wanted to throttle her just five minutes ago.

All in all, Emily is a challenging little bundle of delight and we love her to bits.

Michael.

At the other end of the spectrum that is our brood is Michael. He has just turned 16 and that’s even scarier than the fact that the youngest has just hit double figures.

Over the last year he has of course continued to grow and has managed to top my height. He’s matured and is much more the young man than the boy compared to where he was 12 months ago. He’s in the last month or so of his journey with braces and that will no doubt add to the change and maturity of is look.

Over the summer Michael didn’t really get into much organised sport, though he did compete in some cross-country events and even ran the city to bay with me. It’s always nice to be reminded of one’s aging body by having your son run on virtually no training and smash your time.

This year Michael decided that he’d play club soccer over the winter in addition to the school soccer that he played last year (and is playing again this year). We were very happy and the fact that he’s gone out to the same club that Thomas plays for at least adds some small measure of convenience (even if it meant kissing goodbye to another couple of hours every Sunday). It’s been great to see him developing his skills and approach to the game though and I really pleased that he’s decided to do it (especially because we didn’t have to force him).

It’s meant that if nothing else, there’s a couple more hours of the week where he’s outside and we don’t have to try and disengage him from his computer.

The most likely place you’re ever going to find Michael if you call past our house is in his room, sitting on the bed with the lap top out, the sounds of frenzied mouse-clicking permeating the air like a single-note staccato symphony. He and his friends have become absorbed into an online game (League of Legends) and so that’s there way of socialising – across the internet.

With the amount of time that he spends doing that, there was an element of despair about with regards to him ever meeting someone from that ‘other sex’ that the human race apparently has, but perhaps I needn't worry. That's all I am allowed to say.

School wise, Michael is tackling the IB programme, which I am well pleased about. He seems to be performing well so far for the year and so hopefully stays on that track.

He’s not often a trouble maker and so I guess we have to offset some of the frustration with the amount of time spent hibernating (he’s a tad difficult to get out of bed at times) and playing computer games with thanks for his generally good nature.

And of course at 16, we embark on another new chapter – driving. I think I might leave that for a more detailed discussion at some other point, but suffice to say that he has his L’s and so far hasn’t crashed a car!

We have many reasons to be proud of Michael and are thankful that he is who he is.

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!

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.

Fifteen

No, it’s not a Taylor Swift song, well it is, but that’s not what this is about. This is about the fact that the eldest lad has hit that milestone. Quite scary really to think that so much time has passed since the fateful day when he arrived in the world.

There’s certainly been some changes in the last 12 months. Michael at 15 seems to have his head screwed on the right way and there hasn’t been quite as many of those moments where irrational hormone driven obstinacy becomes the response. He’s generally accepting of his siblings and remains thick as thieves with Sam in particular.

The voice dropped since he was 14. Fortunately for him he didn’t suffer wild swings of tone during the process, it was more like he had a cold and sounded a little gravelly, but never quite recovered from it. It’s weird to now try and remember what he sounded like pre-voice change. I really don’t think I can recall.

Year 10 seems to be going well for him at school and recently he undertook one of those future career based assessments where they try and look at your personality and what you might be suited to in the future (whilst taking into account what the kid might actually be interested in). of course with all the communications skills of a teenager, the first I knew about it was when I received an email from the school asking that we make an appointment to see the people that had run the session. This lead to some questioning of the lad, but he wasn’t able to shed any light on the matter, not even really being able to remember what questions he’d been asked.

So we rolled up suspecting what it was about and fortunately were pretty much on the money. There weren’t really any surprises in the assessment other than to suggest that he has a whole lot of potential to live up to and that he seems to be headed toward an engineering career. There was way too much of me in that assessment even before getting to the engineering part of it.

Michael’s best friend seems to be his computer because that’s where you’ll find him most of the time. That’s probably not that unusual for a modern kid, but there are times when you feel like dragging him outside and staking him in the sun just so that he remembers what it looks like. At least he’s playing soccer again this winter and hopefully his team can manage to be competitive to keep the interest level up (I’ve not seen them yet as they’ve only had the one game).

All in all, I can only be proud of Michael and hope that he continues on the path that he’s set for himself so far.

Oh and it appears he might just have started to notice girls ;)

The Hidden Cost of Canada

At the time that you set off on a little adventure to the other side of the world for a couple of years, you understand that there’s going to be some sacrifices. You also understand that some of those things are readily identifiable. The absence of family and friends, departure from sporting clubs, changes of schools amongst what is a much longer list.

You also understand that there’s going to be hidden costs that can’t be predicted when you return and its also understood that they won’t all be immediately apparent.

Whilst we were in Canada, we tried to keep the boys in touch with cricket a little bit by occasionally getting out in the park and entertaining the locals with our crazy antics. Michael and Thomas were the two most keen to play, but then that was true before we left as well.

Michael was very excited when we returned to be able to finally take up cricket again. Unfortunately a couple of things changed in his absence. With the age progression that he went through the game changed. The ball went from a semi hard ball to a true cricket ball complete with all the padding that accompanies it. The pitch stretched out to a full length, taking away some of the menace from his bowling as he had to loop it a little more to get it to a decent length.

Even more telling, he went from being of average height to seemingly a foot shorter than most of his contemporaries. That foot proved to quite possibly be the single most telling fact as when he went in to bat, the ball was harder, coming faster and often, bouncing up around the rib cage of a reasonable length. It meant that when he went in to bat he felt incompetent and with his bowling not being as threatening, he was more often than not bowling fourth change or so and hence fielding whilst only being rewarded with 2 overs when the captain thought he could afford it.

It’s meant that he’s now declared that he no longer wants to play cricket. I completely understand, but it rips out a little piece of my heart. The hardest thing for me is not so much that he doesn’t want to play cricket, its that by playing soccer all year round in Canada, he’s been limited in his exposure to other sports. I don’t really mind what he chooses to play, I just really really want him outside and exercising and deriving all the benefits that come from working with a team to achieve a goal and simply socialising with ones peers outside of the immediate school environment.

For now, all we can do is encourage his participation and offer what ever support he needs when he decides to go down a new path.

HI ho, hi ho, its off to camp we go

This morning, Michael left for camp. It sounds like it will be a fun camp, though I can understand that he has some trepidation. After all, they’re hiking in the Flinders Rangers and have to carry everything with them. That means that all the water that they’ll be drinking for three days is weighing down his back pack. Part of me wouldn’t be surprised to find out that he’d drunk 5 litres of water today just so that he didn’t have to lug it the entire distance.

I wasn’t impressed when the 7:30am drop off that I was expecting this morning was shifted to a 6am drop off, especially because that meant getting out of bed at 5:20am on a day when I would be driving several hundred kilometres for work.

We chucked the back pack in the car and headed off to the school only to have Michael say 5 minutes up the road that he had forgotten his packed lunch. Given that we were on something of a tight time line to get him there on time, I advised him that he’d just have to dip into the additional muesli bars that he’d taken along and deal with it.

It was all good until we got to the school, drove inside and found that there wasn’t a single, bus, teacher, student or parent anywhere to be seen. We quickly whipped around to the alternate entrance, but there was still no sign of anyone. I started questioning Michael as to whether he could have the time wrong, or the location only to find out that he wasn’t sure. So we called Caroline at home because the piece of paper we needed wasn’t in his locker and was suspected to be on the floor of his bedroom.

Well guess what? It wasn’t there. What was there however was the cutlery, plate and tea towel that Michael was supposed to have packed with his gear. At this point the emergency measures kicked in and Caroline put together a lunch, grabbed his remaining gear and set off to deliver it even though we were still unsure as to whether we were in the right place or not.

Fortunately in the time that it took Caroline to get there other people slowly started to arrive and when the first bus showed up I think we both breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Caroline made it in time and off we went, abandoning him to his adventure.

I just hope the raspy throat that he said he woke up with doesn’t turn into the flu that seemed to have hit Caroline over the weekend given that I’ve been driving somewhat close to the Flinders Ranges today and have seen nothing but patches of light to very heavy rain. With the weight of all the food that Michael packed, I’m not sure that he was overly generous with the whole clothing concept!

Hairlairious or Hairifying?

Caroline had told me that she was taking all the kids to have hair cuts today and so I was looking forward to seeing them all neat and tidy again when I arrived home from work. All of them except Michael that is because if the last couple of efforts were anything to go by, he was only going to lose an inch or so.

Before I left work, Caroline called to check when I’d been home and dropped into conversation the fact that Michael wasn’t happy with his and so not to be too harsh on him or make any sort of comment that was likely to offend him.

It brought back the time that I had a hair cut that I loved, but that everyone around me thought was something along the lines of ridiculous. My brother’s not so politically correct comment was “that’s fucked,” whilst Dad, being the understanding and creative individual that he is, took one look and said, “wear a hat.”

Well, as if I was going to cave in the face of such opposition! And being conscious of that, I haven’t pushed Michael too hard and wasn’t going to on this occasion either. I was kind of hoping that peer pressure might win him over, but clearly he doesn’t exactly worry about the opinion of his peers! That could be a good thing.

Anyway, I came home from work and was greeted by an ecstatic Thomas, complete with very short hair. Sam was equally happy with his short hair, but there was no sign of Michael or Emily. Turns out that Emily was enjoying some ‘personal time’ as a result of her reaction to the take away Chinese that had been brought home for dinner.

As for Michael, well I was of course most interested to see what had happened to his head. That was rather difficult though because I was soon informed that he had gone into hiding and hadn’t been sighted in the 2 hours since he’d come home from the hair dresser.

Apparently he’d sat and endured the massacre and as soon as it was finished, stormed from the chair directly to the car without even a comment. Needless to say that I was expecting something pretty bad, but decided that I’d have dinner before I bothered facing him. Eventually he was tracked down, but before I could see him, he slipped into his room and stood holding it, refusing entry. I tried to peek through the crack in the door, but that wasn’t going to do much. Michael was in no mind to let me in, going so far as to say that I was the one that he especially didn’t want to see it. I decided to give him time, but Caroline, having dealt with the 2 hour absence decided it was time to confront him. I left her to it.

I finally managed to sneak in to our room when he was talking to Caroline, still far from loving life. I only saw the back at first. It was shorter, maybe an inch above his neck line, may be a little messy. I lay down on the bed, not making any sudden moves or even commenting, waiting to be invited. When he finally did decide that I could have a look and let me see, it wasn’t really that bad at all.

Except for the fact that he hated it and that for a delicate young teenager’s soul that meant the world was ending.

Caroline, being the super-Mum that she is, proposed a solution: One of the Aussies that we’ve met here in Fort Mac happens to be a hair dresser. After a bit of a look on line to see if there was something that Michael might be able to live with after his hair had been ‘butchered’ and an emergency call was put into Mel.

A short time later, Michael was sitting on a chair in the living room, scissors being re-applied to his hair. A short time later again, he was done, there was a smile on his face and the world, whilst not perfect, had certainly tilted back toward a what a 13 year old might consider balanced.

seven and thirteen

It’s probably a sign of how busy we’ve been and where my head is at that I am lumping two significant events together even though they occurred over a month apart.

On the 21st of March, our little pink thing became a little less little, though certainly no less pink when she turned seven years old.

Bubbly and happy, she continues to exude confidence almost everywhere she goes whilst occasionally slipping into squealy, scared little girl mode, more often than not just for an excuse to get Daddy’s attention I am sure. She was very excited for her birthday, as is more than appropriate for someone turning a massive seven years old. She was especially happy about the party that we held for her with a host (or perhaps more accurately a gaggle) of kids from school. two boys were ‘fortunate’ enough to make the invite list, the first of whom was greatly relieved to be invited into the basement with Emily’s brothers as the girls went crazy around her.

Two moments stand out in my mind from the day, the part where she was opening her presents, seated on the couch, the entire party population crowded around her like petitioners about a court princess.



The second moment occurred when it was time for the pinata. We’ve been through any number of pinata’s over the time that our kids have had birthdays, home made, store bought, but regardless of the origins, they’ve all gone down the same way ... gradually bludgeoned to death by small beings wielding a long blunt object with varying degrees of proficiency.



But for some reason this one was supposed to be different. Not that I had a clue. I did the usual thing, hung it up, lined up the kids and gave them the blunt object. Emily protested loudly but I insisted that this was exactly how it worked and away we went. Each time Emily came up, she took the stick with a dark look and an overly angry and enthusiastic swing. When the candy finally fell, she stormed off with tears in her eyes.

Apparently this was a ‘special’ pinata and everyone was supposed to hold one of the streamers and pull it and that would make the candy fall ... except for the fact that I don’t remember seeing anything about that anywhere on it. She cheered up again soon enough.

One of the big differences that we’re seeing this year is the fact that Emily is learning to write and that she’s more than happy to share her new-found knowledge and skills with us. Its not unusual to find a little note outside the door or scattered about the floor letting us know that the little pink thing does indeed love her Mum and Dad. Of course, with the skills, one doesn’t necessarily develop the filter that social norms might otherwise give us and so we’ve also been known to find amongst the literary marvels the occasional note that says something as blunt as “I hate you”. Of course, that only happens when she doesn’t get her own way!

So at seven, the opinions are stated firmly and loudly, the smiles plentiful, hugs large and genuine, and the mood swings gradually coming along to show us those potentially horrifying glimpses of the future with a teenager!

Which of course leads us to the other momentus occasion that was as recent as yesterday. Michael turned 13, and so we do, in fact have a teenager in the house.

The biggest thing for us with Michael turning 13 this year was as simple as finding something to give him. With departure from Canada on the horizon (even if further than we’d like) it rules out a lot of electronic options as we are better off waiting until we’re back in the land of 240v (even if its more expensive) and we don’t really want to clutter up the house with crap any more than we’ve already managed to. In the end, he decided the he’d really like some roller blades so that along with a few books to read seems to have done the trick.

Michael continues to succeed at school, though I think somewhat reminiscent of another family member, might struggle with some of the more mundane aspects of the schooling. With the age gap to most of the people in his class, he’s struggled to click with a lot of his peers and seems to view them mostly as more trouble than they’re worth. He’s continued to enjoy to read, devouring my bookshelf at a rate that simply blows my mind. Nothing like buying him a book so that he’ll have something to read for the last couple of days of a holiday and seeing him finish it before we even get to the part where we’re traveling home again. Of course, it’s hard to complain when your teenager gets excited about a book shop.

We’re definitely seeing the emotions run hot and cold as Michael embarks on this next stage of life’s journey and I can hardly wait until the communication drops off to grunts and groans! He continues to enjoy his soccer, having been one of the key players in his indoor team.

Summer will be interesting when having just turned 13 he will have to play in a combined U14/16 team. Some of the older kids that I saw playing after the U14 games during the winter were taller than I am. At least the better U16 players will be playing in the men’s league where I’ll have to try and out run (not likely) or out push (highly likely) them. I’m also hoping that he gets a decent coach as I believe that he’d benefit from being coached by someone other than his father (maybe he’d listen a little more and offer a few less opinions).

Regardless of how it turns out, he’s a kid that its easy to be proud of and I hope that he keeps going down the right track ... even if he does need a bloody hair cut.