Clearly its been a while since I last managed to sit down and put fingers to keys for this little part of my world. Its been both relaxing and busy since Christmas and that’s at least part of the reason.
After the ultra-success that was Turducken for Christmas Dinner – what’s not to love about getting to carve three birds in one go with nary a bone in the way? It was time to focus on the serious business of life – relaxing. The days between Christmas and New Years were spent sorting a few things out around the house, reviving sprinkler systems and so on and continuing the seemingly endless task of recovering from the move back home. There was also a little bit of thought about the planned trip to Aldinga on the 2nd.
We saw 2010 off in fine style, enjoying once again being able to host a party at home, with the BBQ outside and with the finally assembled pool table inside and the weather accommodating enough to enjoy it all. The blender got a workout, keeping things well lubricated, even if at one point someone said that they weren’t alcoholic enough! I believe that was subsequently well taken care of, hey Belinda? We even had visitors (or displaced locals) from Canada for the occasion and it was great to catch up with Jim and Annie after last seeing them across the ocean whilst also catching up with good friends from Adelaide again.
The 2nd saw us off to Aldinga for the week which was of course incredibly tough. Sun and sand and an ocean less than 50 metres from the front door was always going to be a big ask, but we held in there, re-uniting with friends in a week of fun that had become tradition prior to our departure from these fair shores. The inflatable kayaks were introduced to the Aussie beach with much success, including Caroline managing to lure a few squid from the oceans depths and Michael and Sam were re-introduced to the concept of sun-burn. Copious amounts of sunscreen were applied, but it only takes that one lapse. I don’t think it will be happening again any time soon.
Off the back of that week, its been back to work, frantically moving towards the real kick off of this project, which will see me in Broken Hill for a couple of days soon as we look to commence the physical work. It will be great to get out of the planning stages and be able to go ‘touch and feel’ things again.
And of course there’s the much anticipated virgin trip in the new Caravan which is somewhat exciting. Nick managed to come through for us in spectacular fashion, seeing us become proud owners of a Pajero on the eve of Christmas which finally meant that we had the capacity to tow at last. We had somewhat hopefully booked some time away in mid January, but it simply wasn’t going to work for me, so we had to cancel at the last minute. The new opportunity came out of the blue and I for one can’t wait to finally get away again, though I am sure we will oft-lament the fact that we didn’t end up bringing back the van from Canada!
Jan 26, 2011
Dec 24, 2010
Whisperings of a Church Mouse
We were at mass last night and the kids were endeavoring to restrain their excited little hearts and find a way to survive mass without exploding. As usual, I had Emily next to me. Throughout the mass she’d whisper little things to me. Things like “I love you with all my heart Daddy,” or “I love God too,” or “Church isn’t just for rich people, is it Daddy? It’s for everyone.”
As curious as I always am about where some of these little whisperings come from, nothing quite tops the point where she had a curious little look on her face, drawing me to lower my ear to her level so that she could offer up whatever little piece of wisdom it was that she’d been mulling over.
She looked at me, lifted her mouth to my ear and whispered, “I farted.”
As curious as I always am about where some of these little whisperings come from, nothing quite tops the point where she had a curious little look on her face, drawing me to lower my ear to her level so that she could offer up whatever little piece of wisdom it was that she’d been mulling over.
She looked at me, lifted her mouth to my ear and whispered, “I farted.”
Dec 17, 2010
Do you fake it?
The Christmas tree that is, don’t know what the rest of you were thinking.
I grew up with a fake Christmas tree and didn’t know any different. Caroline grew up with real trees and didn’t know any different. So of course at that point where our lives amalgamated decisions had to be made.
Do we have a real tree or a fake tree?
I conceded and so we’ve had real trees for the last 15 years. There have been good trees and bad trees but overall they’ve been alright. Some get a little spindly and all of them forever drop crap all over the floor. Of course, from Caroline’s perspective they all smell nice too. From my perspective, I inevitably end up with stick sap on my hands (which happens to shit me).
The other beef I have with the real tree is that at the end of the process you have to dispose of them rather than just pack them back into their box for next year. And because we’re so good at keeping things neat and tidy that usually means that we have the tree a lot longer than we need to. I mean one year in Canada, when the snow melted, I found the remains of the bloody Christmas tree on the lawn!
At least in Canada we were surrounded by snow and the trees lasted longer. Hell, you could even wander off into the forest and cut down your own (though even that proved to be very hit and miss).
You can well imagine how I reacted just now when Caroline called to tell me that they’d been out to buy a tree and got home to discover that it was more like a poorly groomed broomstick. I can see that we’ll have two trees this year (or at least have paid for them) and yet once again, neither of them will be a repeatable, good every year, fake tree.
I grew up with a fake Christmas tree and didn’t know any different. Caroline grew up with real trees and didn’t know any different. So of course at that point where our lives amalgamated decisions had to be made.
Do we have a real tree or a fake tree?
I conceded and so we’ve had real trees for the last 15 years. There have been good trees and bad trees but overall they’ve been alright. Some get a little spindly and all of them forever drop crap all over the floor. Of course, from Caroline’s perspective they all smell nice too. From my perspective, I inevitably end up with stick sap on my hands (which happens to shit me).
The other beef I have with the real tree is that at the end of the process you have to dispose of them rather than just pack them back into their box for next year. And because we’re so good at keeping things neat and tidy that usually means that we have the tree a lot longer than we need to. I mean one year in Canada, when the snow melted, I found the remains of the bloody Christmas tree on the lawn!
At least in Canada we were surrounded by snow and the trees lasted longer. Hell, you could even wander off into the forest and cut down your own (though even that proved to be very hit and miss).
You can well imagine how I reacted just now when Caroline called to tell me that they’d been out to buy a tree and got home to discover that it was more like a poorly groomed broomstick. I can see that we’ll have two trees this year (or at least have paid for them) and yet once again, neither of them will be a repeatable, good every year, fake tree.
Dec 13, 2010
Top Speed
We played touch football again tonight, something we’ve been partaking in each Monday night since the season began. We’ve had a mixed season, leaning more to the losing side of the balance sheet than I’d prefer, but most weeks there’s something in the game to at least keep me interested.
Tonight we played a bunch of kids who must have ranged from about 12 to 15 in age and early in the second half I managed a break away down the wing. I knew that they were coming to cut me off and deep down, I also knew that there was a chance that I could show up the young bucks and beat them to the line.
I’d claimed in previous weeks that whilst I used to be able to out sprint people over half the line and surprise them with the velocity at which I could propel the lard, that due to increasing age and failing body parts, I was more of a chance over quarter of the field these days. I’ve been run down a couple of times recently you see. Last week I had the ball an inch from the ground when I was caught by some young whipper snapper. Most infuriating, I must say.
This week though, the difference was the kid was only about 15, not 20 and so I put on that little bit of extra speed, getting up on the toes and accelerating that bit beyond what people thought I was capable was. Certainly those that had never seen me really get up and go were impressed (Its probably only 70% of what I could do way back when, if that).
It was greatly satisfying to put the ball down across the line though and was only marred by the subtle reminder from my body as the old and aging hamstring gave me. Its not torn or anything like it, but the next time that I broke the line I knew that it was all over for today’s game.
Looks like next time I’ll just have to avoid truly hitting ‘top speed’.
Tonight we played a bunch of kids who must have ranged from about 12 to 15 in age and early in the second half I managed a break away down the wing. I knew that they were coming to cut me off and deep down, I also knew that there was a chance that I could show up the young bucks and beat them to the line.
I’d claimed in previous weeks that whilst I used to be able to out sprint people over half the line and surprise them with the velocity at which I could propel the lard, that due to increasing age and failing body parts, I was more of a chance over quarter of the field these days. I’ve been run down a couple of times recently you see. Last week I had the ball an inch from the ground when I was caught by some young whipper snapper. Most infuriating, I must say.
This week though, the difference was the kid was only about 15, not 20 and so I put on that little bit of extra speed, getting up on the toes and accelerating that bit beyond what people thought I was capable was. Certainly those that had never seen me really get up and go were impressed (Its probably only 70% of what I could do way back when, if that).
It was greatly satisfying to put the ball down across the line though and was only marred by the subtle reminder from my body as the old and aging hamstring gave me. Its not torn or anything like it, but the next time that I broke the line I knew that it was all over for today’s game.
Looks like next time I’ll just have to avoid truly hitting ‘top speed’.
Dec 11, 2010
Start with a list
Its always interesting when you see your children starting to emulate some of your habits. Its funny enough when you realise that you are repeating the things that your parents have done. I often walk out of the house thinking, wallet, watch ... starting off the list that I used to hear my father walking out the door with (wallet, watch, train ticket).
Today provided one of those funny little moments for us when Emily came into our room. She was toting a list along with her and was working her way through it. After giving us both a hug and saying good morning she took her pen and ticked off her list. Obviously the endless lists that Caroline uses to organise our chaotic lives are having an effect. But the real reason for writing this was to immortalise the list itself, because it was quite simply, cute. Here's what I found:
My List of things to do
- Make my bed
- Get Dressed
- Clean my room
- Brush my teeth
- Do my hair
- Eat Breakfast
- Say good morning to Mum and Dad
- Have Christmas Calendar lolly
Priceless.
Today provided one of those funny little moments for us when Emily came into our room. She was toting a list along with her and was working her way through it. After giving us both a hug and saying good morning she took her pen and ticked off her list. Obviously the endless lists that Caroline uses to organise our chaotic lives are having an effect. But the real reason for writing this was to immortalise the list itself, because it was quite simply, cute. Here's what I found:
My List of things to do
- Make my bed
- Get Dressed
- Clean my room
- Brush my teeth
- Do my hair
- Eat Breakfast
- Say good morning to Mum and Dad
- Have Christmas Calendar lolly
Priceless.
Nov 9, 2010
Just like Christmas
Unwrapping everything of the back of returning from Canada has been a little bit like Christmas, finding things that you knew you had but hadn't really thought about until you find them again.
Then there was the stuff that was put into storage in Australia whilst we were away. I knew that we'd put some wine into storage, because we weren't quite up to chugging it all down before we left and were too tight to just give it away (especially when we found out that we could actually have it stored). Caroline asked me the other day how much wine we had put into storage and I told her that from memory (as poor as that can be) there was about a dozen bottles that we'd bothered to save. She seemed surprised and when I asked why, she told me that there appeared to be more boxes than would be required to pack away a dozen bottles of wine.
Tonight I happened to find where those boxes had ended up in the shed and decided to take a peek and get them down into the pit where they'd be isolated from the temperature fluctuations they'd otherwise be exposed to. It was like Christmas come early as each bottle had been individually wrapped and I found myself exclaiming in delight as I discovered the treasures that had been put away over three years ago.
Six dozen bottles of 8 to 10 year old reds now nestle in the pit, awaiting further exploration. I sense some fun ahead! Now if only I hadn't decided 21 days ago to enter into a self-imposed detox for a month. I sure wouldn't be typing fluently right now, that's for sure.
Then there was the stuff that was put into storage in Australia whilst we were away. I knew that we'd put some wine into storage, because we weren't quite up to chugging it all down before we left and were too tight to just give it away (especially when we found out that we could actually have it stored). Caroline asked me the other day how much wine we had put into storage and I told her that from memory (as poor as that can be) there was about a dozen bottles that we'd bothered to save. She seemed surprised and when I asked why, she told me that there appeared to be more boxes than would be required to pack away a dozen bottles of wine.
Tonight I happened to find where those boxes had ended up in the shed and decided to take a peek and get them down into the pit where they'd be isolated from the temperature fluctuations they'd otherwise be exposed to. It was like Christmas come early as each bottle had been individually wrapped and I found myself exclaiming in delight as I discovered the treasures that had been put away over three years ago.
Six dozen bottles of 8 to 10 year old reds now nestle in the pit, awaiting further exploration. I sense some fun ahead! Now if only I hadn't decided 21 days ago to enter into a self-imposed detox for a month. I sure wouldn't be typing fluently right now, that's for sure.
Nov 8, 2010
Father of the Year
Last weekend was pretty busy. We’d just had two days of having all of our stuff from Canada land in our house in boxes and having to arrange and unpack everything. On top of that there was the apartment that we had to clear of all the stuff that we’d been surviving with.
As all of this is happening the kids were oscillating between helping, un-helping and generally ignoring the fact that beyond their own possessions, there were other things that needed to be loaded and unloaded from cars. Kids are like that. Sam and Thomas I must say won the prize for most consistent application of the help factor out of the four of them, whilst Michael was being a little more inventive, deciding that it was quicker to rip-stick the goods from the apartment to the car.
The rip-sticks even made it out into the church car park whilst the kids waited for us to finish gas-bagging.
As we went to leave the church, Thomas went for one last run down the slope of the carpark to jump in and stash the rip-stick. As he did so, the additional speed undid him and he fell backwards, to land solidly upon his rump, his hands out behind him in an effort to take a little of the sting out. He shrugged off the embarrassment and sheepishly boarded the van.
When we were then at the apartment, he complained that his wrist was sore and that he wouldn’t really be able to help to carry very much. Caroline suggested that we’d need to take him to the hospital in amongst everything else that was going on for the day. To say that I was excited about going to the Women’s and Children’s to spend a couple of hour waiting to be seen would have quite simply been a big fat lie.
So I did what any good father would do. Told him to suck it up, see how it went and carry on.
As the day proceeded, he seemed to favour it less and I was happy that the right decision had been made (having convinced Thomas that it was likely just a bit sprained and that it would come good over the next couple of days).
During the week, the pain continued and Caroline decided (like good Mothers do) that it would be worth getting him checked out by the doctor after all. This resulted in a trip to the radiologist. When he came home last night, there was no sign of a cast, but Thomas was happy enough to let me know with one of those little Thomas smirks that he had a fracture. I played it up and let him know that at least with no cast, he wouldn’t be too restricted.
Then today the phone rang at work. It was Caroline to inform me that Thomas would have to go back to the doctor tomorrow ... yes, for a cast of course.
“Just a sprain,” he said. Father of the year for sure.
*(As a side note, those toys have been a huge hit - I think the fact that they received them at Christmas last year when the world was doused in snow was a bit of a let down for them initially)
As all of this is happening the kids were oscillating between helping, un-helping and generally ignoring the fact that beyond their own possessions, there were other things that needed to be loaded and unloaded from cars. Kids are like that. Sam and Thomas I must say won the prize for most consistent application of the help factor out of the four of them, whilst Michael was being a little more inventive, deciding that it was quicker to rip-stick the goods from the apartment to the car.
The rip-sticks even made it out into the church car park whilst the kids waited for us to finish gas-bagging.
As we went to leave the church, Thomas went for one last run down the slope of the carpark to jump in and stash the rip-stick. As he did so, the additional speed undid him and he fell backwards, to land solidly upon his rump, his hands out behind him in an effort to take a little of the sting out. He shrugged off the embarrassment and sheepishly boarded the van.
When we were then at the apartment, he complained that his wrist was sore and that he wouldn’t really be able to help to carry very much. Caroline suggested that we’d need to take him to the hospital in amongst everything else that was going on for the day. To say that I was excited about going to the Women’s and Children’s to spend a couple of hour waiting to be seen would have quite simply been a big fat lie.
So I did what any good father would do. Told him to suck it up, see how it went and carry on.
As the day proceeded, he seemed to favour it less and I was happy that the right decision had been made (having convinced Thomas that it was likely just a bit sprained and that it would come good over the next couple of days).
During the week, the pain continued and Caroline decided (like good Mothers do) that it would be worth getting him checked out by the doctor after all. This resulted in a trip to the radiologist. When he came home last night, there was no sign of a cast, but Thomas was happy enough to let me know with one of those little Thomas smirks that he had a fracture. I played it up and let him know that at least with no cast, he wouldn’t be too restricted.
Then today the phone rang at work. It was Caroline to inform me that Thomas would have to go back to the doctor tomorrow ... yes, for a cast of course.
“Just a sprain,” he said. Father of the year for sure.
*(As a side note, those toys have been a huge hit - I think the fact that they received them at Christmas last year when the world was doused in snow was a bit of a let down for them initially)
Oct 24, 2010
notes on the pillow
One of those delightful things about a small girl learning to write is that occasionally she takes it upon herself to communicate to us when we’re not there by writing a note and leaving it about the house somewhere for us to find. Often there’s sweet sentiments being expressed along the lines of ‘I love you Daddy’ or ‘Thack you Mum and Dad.’ (Let’s face it there’s still some work to do on the whole spelling thing!)
Of course, the fact that she’s seven and subject to the whims and mercies of her parents means that there are times in the little girl’s life when what’s best for her doesn’t happen to coincide with what Emily wants.
Fortunately for her on such occasions, when she’s alone and isolated and we’re not obliging her with being the object of a pointed and somewhat loud verbal ‘correction’ she can now resort to pen and paper. Instead of sleeping and resting her tired little head, recharging the brain and enjoying some down time in the land of nod, she can leave a little message for us so that we know what she was thinking before she went to bed.
Little things like, “I hate you.”
Gotta love ‘em eh?
Of course, the fact that she’s seven and subject to the whims and mercies of her parents means that there are times in the little girl’s life when what’s best for her doesn’t happen to coincide with what Emily wants.
Fortunately for her on such occasions, when she’s alone and isolated and we’re not obliging her with being the object of a pointed and somewhat loud verbal ‘correction’ she can now resort to pen and paper. Instead of sleeping and resting her tired little head, recharging the brain and enjoying some down time in the land of nod, she can leave a little message for us so that we know what she was thinking before she went to bed.
Little things like, “I hate you.”
Gotta love ‘em eh?
twelve
Two weeks after Thomas has his birthday, Sam has his. Its been that way for the last 10 years and will of course continue ad infinitum. Sam was very excited to have his birthday in Australia this year. He, more than anyone else had expressed this desire whilst we were still in Canada. The thought of having just one more birthday on the wrong side of the ocean was really too much for the poor little bugger to bear.
At twelve, Sam is still possibly the most emotional of the boys. He’s a bright kid and has his own independent streak, choosing his own way. There’s still a bit of his fear to try something that he doesn’t think he’ll be good at, but he has also been happy to tread a different path, choosing volleyball in Canada and now, rather than taking up cricket, he’s going to give tennis a go and is playing indoor soccer with some friends.
Sam is still happy to offer a hug and was taking great delight in standing one side of you and tapping you on the other shoulder so that you’d look the other way. Having realised that people tend to pick up on this, its now evolved to be a tap on the shoulder and a duck down such that it doesn’t matter which shoulder you look over, you’re not going to see him there until you glance down to see him smiling up at you from around your knees.
It has been great to see how happy Sam has been since he’s returned to Oz. He’s reconnected with some friends and has settled nicely into school. He hasn’t been too forthcoming with how he’s going with the whole friends thing with me thus far, but he’s coming home happy and heading off to school each day with a smile on his face, so one doesn’t like to push too far.
Happy 12th Sam!
At twelve, Sam is still possibly the most emotional of the boys. He’s a bright kid and has his own independent streak, choosing his own way. There’s still a bit of his fear to try something that he doesn’t think he’ll be good at, but he has also been happy to tread a different path, choosing volleyball in Canada and now, rather than taking up cricket, he’s going to give tennis a go and is playing indoor soccer with some friends.
Sam is still happy to offer a hug and was taking great delight in standing one side of you and tapping you on the other shoulder so that you’d look the other way. Having realised that people tend to pick up on this, its now evolved to be a tap on the shoulder and a duck down such that it doesn’t matter which shoulder you look over, you’re not going to see him there until you glance down to see him smiling up at you from around your knees.
It has been great to see how happy Sam has been since he’s returned to Oz. He’s reconnected with some friends and has settled nicely into school. He hasn’t been too forthcoming with how he’s going with the whole friends thing with me thus far, but he’s coming home happy and heading off to school each day with a smile on his face, so one doesn’t like to push too far.
Happy 12th Sam!
Oct 16, 2010
Ten
The 2nd of October was Thomas’ tenth birthday and the first one that he’s managed to have in Australia since we left in 2007. He was pretty happy about that, as were all of his siblings (and possibly those of us that make up the rest of the family as well).
A year on, Thomas has achieved a lot. He’s competed in ski-racing at Jasper, he scored honour roll at school and he continues to develop into the sort of delightful young man that a proud Dad likes to boast about.
One of the things that has stood out lately is what I like to refer to as Thomas’ smug grin. It appears every now and then and always brings a smile to my face.
It comes out when he knows that he’s said or is doing ‘the right thing’. He’ll announce some little tidbit of wisdom, knowing that he’s saying exactly what a parent would expect their good son to say and then it appears, the little self satisfied, smug grin. I do adore it. It shows the intelligence lurking behind his sparkly eyes. It probably means that we’re in for trouble, because its that sort of intelligence that shows he knows full well what is expected whether that happens to be the path that he’s chosen to take or not.
It also means that he shows enough forethought (at times) to know that if you say the right thing, you might just escape the consequences that go with saying the wrong thing on the back of having done the wrong thing. I hope that makes sense in translation. I know it does to me, it was one of the lessons I managed to learn fairly early on in life!
Thomas retains his sense of humour and his willingness to persevere to succeed. As he embarks on the journey back into the Australian school system (not to mention finally getting a chance to start to play cricket) it will be critical for him to maintain both of these and hopefully with some extra support, he’ll continue on the hard earned path to success that he’s begun on so far.
A year on, Thomas has achieved a lot. He’s competed in ski-racing at Jasper, he scored honour roll at school and he continues to develop into the sort of delightful young man that a proud Dad likes to boast about.
One of the things that has stood out lately is what I like to refer to as Thomas’ smug grin. It appears every now and then and always brings a smile to my face.
It comes out when he knows that he’s said or is doing ‘the right thing’. He’ll announce some little tidbit of wisdom, knowing that he’s saying exactly what a parent would expect their good son to say and then it appears, the little self satisfied, smug grin. I do adore it. It shows the intelligence lurking behind his sparkly eyes. It probably means that we’re in for trouble, because its that sort of intelligence that shows he knows full well what is expected whether that happens to be the path that he’s chosen to take or not.
It also means that he shows enough forethought (at times) to know that if you say the right thing, you might just escape the consequences that go with saying the wrong thing on the back of having done the wrong thing. I hope that makes sense in translation. I know it does to me, it was one of the lessons I managed to learn fairly early on in life!
Thomas retains his sense of humour and his willingness to persevere to succeed. As he embarks on the journey back into the Australian school system (not to mention finally getting a chance to start to play cricket) it will be critical for him to maintain both of these and hopefully with some extra support, he’ll continue on the hard earned path to success that he’s begun on so far.
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