When my husband was around 8-years-old, his older cousins - as older cousins do - decided to burst his Christmas bubble in the nastiest, most venomous way they could think of. A way in which guaranteed the little tyke would be scarred for life (well, for his childhood at least).
They told him Santa died. If that was not devastating enough, their tale continued to unravel, saying Santa died on his way, or soon after he arrived in Australia. To rub salt in the wound, they added that poor old St Nick's demise was brought upon by heatstroke.
Cruel, don't you think?
Yesterday, at the pre-school Christmas concert, the man in red made an appearance. All the little kiddies squealed in delight as he handed out gifts and lollies.
Except for Tara.
She covered her mouth, in an effort to conceal her whisper from her sisters, and said to me,
"He's not real."
I anticipated this and replied,
"Yes, I know. It is one of Santa's helpers. The real Santa is too busy in the North Pole."
"No mum, Santa is not real."
Putting on my best actor face, I asked her who she thought put all the presents under our tree last year.
"You did mum. You bought them all last year. I know this because Daddy knew how much my video camera cost."
I didn't know what to say, but shrugged my shoulders and told her that she was wrong. I said Daddy saw the camera at the shops, and we most certainly didn't buy it.
She didn't buy my answer.
I've tried to keep the Santa fable alive for my girls, knowing all too well they will eventually grow out of it, but I'm not ready. They're still too young.
I did however know it was a matter of time, especially since every year my mum dresses in her Santa suit on Christmas Eve. The kids aren't that clueless.
Picture this. We've come home from Midnight Mass, all 8 grandchildren are bouncing off the wall from a candy-cane induced high. Mum dons the suit - complete with full beard - escapes through the back door. Scales the side fence (she's 63 so this takes much effort) and runs up to the top of our street, in the dark. Armed with a big sack and pocketfuls of lollies, she starts, "Ho, Ho, Ho-ing" waking up our lovely neighbours throwing fistfuls of toffees into their yards.
By the time she reaches her house, the older grandkids (and us adults) are in fits of laughter. The younger ones are agog in amazement that Santa has a very woggy accent and sounds a little like grandma. She greets them all by name and hands them gifts. She also hands out a few slaps to the back of the heads of the older kids who proceed to exclaim, "You aren't Santa, you are TATA (grandma in Arabic)."
By this stage, she's dripping sweat, her beard is askew and her pockets are empty. Despite this, bless her, she continues with the charade and, now panting, trudges down to the end of the street to be enveloped by the darkness.
Sometime later, Mum miraculously appears back in the kitchen. I still don't know exactly how she gets back in without us seeing her. I think she has a ladder positioned somewhere in one of the neighbours' yard.
And so, as the years tick on, inevitably my girls are going to stop believing in Santa. But, I'll do my best to keep the magic alive for a little longer.
Friday, 16 December 2011
Hope's pre-school graduation
This song was played at my baby's pre-school graduation yesterday.
I blubbered.
My girls laughed at me. Hope actually rolled her eyes. My husband took two steps away as my sobs increased from an inaudible sniff to a fully-fledged wail.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dsk5Qz5oEWo
Let's see how many dry eyes there are after you watch it.
I blubbered.
My girls laughed at me. Hope actually rolled her eyes. My husband took two steps away as my sobs increased from an inaudible sniff to a fully-fledged wail.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dsk5Qz5oEWo
Let's see how many dry eyes there are after you watch it.
Thursday, 15 December 2011
Sleep - what's that?
And now for my weekly whinge.
Last night was a shocker. And when I say shocker, I mean a three hour battle to get the girls to sleep.
If you have read early posts from when Tara was a baby, you'd see this pattern of bad-sleeping behaviour started from infancy. Hope is even worse. Every night, she crawls into my bed after disrupting Eden for hours.
I can't remember a night since the kids were born when it was an easy transition to bed.
In an effort to try a different tack, last night I used reverse psychology instead of the usual broken-down record, "go to bed, you've had a drink, you don't need to go to the toilet again. GET to BED. Stop swapping beds, stop talking, STOP fighting. GET TO F*&%ING BED."
And so, I told my eldest and youngest after an hour of bickering with my poor middle child, who just wanted to sleep, that they weren't allowed to go to bed.
I proceeded to plonk them both in the loungeroom and told them they were not allowed to sleep. I really thought this might work.
How wrong could I be.
What eventuated was a further two hour screaming match, crying, bellowing (my poor neighbours) and a draining, exhausting, emotionally painful battle.
At around 11pm, they both fell asleep on the floor of the hallway. Daddy transferred them both to their beds soon after. By this stage, I'd retreated to my bed, closed my door and cried myself to sleep.
I honestly thought I would have some small victory. The reality was that even though I had stuck to my guns and refused them to go back to their beds, it was one of the worst nights I'd had in a long time.
There is no solution. I've resigned myself to this fact. I've tried everything. Yelling doesn't work, compromise doesn't work, reverse psychology also was a flop, reward charts, blackmail, begging, NOTHING HAS WORKED. I've tried it all and I feel like a failure.
And, the biggest loser in this situation is me. They woke up this morning with no recollection of the torment they put me through last night. The guilt I feel for being angry at them, the feelings of incompetence - these feelings will haunt me all day.
The only hope I'm clinging to is that when we move to a bigger place, (hopefully soon) the kids will be more settled. I have nothing to base this one, but I'm totally spent.
The "un-joys' of motherhood!
Yawn.......
Last night was a shocker. And when I say shocker, I mean a three hour battle to get the girls to sleep.
If you have read early posts from when Tara was a baby, you'd see this pattern of bad-sleeping behaviour started from infancy. Hope is even worse. Every night, she crawls into my bed after disrupting Eden for hours.
I can't remember a night since the kids were born when it was an easy transition to bed.
In an effort to try a different tack, last night I used reverse psychology instead of the usual broken-down record, "go to bed, you've had a drink, you don't need to go to the toilet again. GET to BED. Stop swapping beds, stop talking, STOP fighting. GET TO F*&%ING BED."
And so, I told my eldest and youngest after an hour of bickering with my poor middle child, who just wanted to sleep, that they weren't allowed to go to bed.
I proceeded to plonk them both in the loungeroom and told them they were not allowed to sleep. I really thought this might work.
How wrong could I be.
What eventuated was a further two hour screaming match, crying, bellowing (my poor neighbours) and a draining, exhausting, emotionally painful battle.
At around 11pm, they both fell asleep on the floor of the hallway. Daddy transferred them both to their beds soon after. By this stage, I'd retreated to my bed, closed my door and cried myself to sleep.
I honestly thought I would have some small victory. The reality was that even though I had stuck to my guns and refused them to go back to their beds, it was one of the worst nights I'd had in a long time.
There is no solution. I've resigned myself to this fact. I've tried everything. Yelling doesn't work, compromise doesn't work, reverse psychology also was a flop, reward charts, blackmail, begging, NOTHING HAS WORKED. I've tried it all and I feel like a failure.
And, the biggest loser in this situation is me. They woke up this morning with no recollection of the torment they put me through last night. The guilt I feel for being angry at them, the feelings of incompetence - these feelings will haunt me all day.
The only hope I'm clinging to is that when we move to a bigger place, (hopefully soon) the kids will be more settled. I have nothing to base this one, but I'm totally spent.
The "un-joys' of motherhood!
Yawn.......
Wednesday, 14 December 2011
Stale bread
As I was walking to work this morning feeling utterly sorry for myself due to a sore throat, I looked up to see a sight which broke my heart.
A sight I would have missed if I hadn't looked up from my begrudging stomp - mumbling to myself about having to leave my cosy bed.
An old man, quite possibly not all that old, but worn weary from a hard life, was scratching at a piece of stale bread he'd found discarded on the footpath. The way he was scratching at it with the vigour of determination could not have been interpreted in any other way - this man was starving.
Obviously he was trying to scrape off any filth, mould or rotten food on the stale bread and salvage whatever edible part he could, shovelling the crumbs into his mouth with lightening speed.
I hesitated, but did not stop. Looked at him, but did not gawk. The pity in my eyes would have embarrassed this man. Every person deserves to reserve some dignity.
What would it have taken me to offer this man a hot breakfast? McDonalds was just around the corner and a McMuffin meal surely wouldn't break the bank. But, 'I was due at work', I rationalised to myself. "He'd be embarassed', I thought.
I walked on.
100 meters away, I saw a gaggle of pigeons, scratching at some breadcrumbs. Just like that old man.
Surely, a man is worth than a pigeon.
I was consumed with guilt, but continued on my way.
A sight I would have missed if I hadn't looked up from my begrudging stomp - mumbling to myself about having to leave my cosy bed.
An old man, quite possibly not all that old, but worn weary from a hard life, was scratching at a piece of stale bread he'd found discarded on the footpath. The way he was scratching at it with the vigour of determination could not have been interpreted in any other way - this man was starving.
Obviously he was trying to scrape off any filth, mould or rotten food on the stale bread and salvage whatever edible part he could, shovelling the crumbs into his mouth with lightening speed.
I hesitated, but did not stop. Looked at him, but did not gawk. The pity in my eyes would have embarrassed this man. Every person deserves to reserve some dignity.
What would it have taken me to offer this man a hot breakfast? McDonalds was just around the corner and a McMuffin meal surely wouldn't break the bank. But, 'I was due at work', I rationalised to myself. "He'd be embarassed', I thought.
I walked on.
100 meters away, I saw a gaggle of pigeons, scratching at some breadcrumbs. Just like that old man.
Surely, a man is worth than a pigeon.
I was consumed with guilt, but continued on my way.
Tuesday, 13 December 2011
Do I need to change the name of my blog?
But, it's not that I love Tara more than my two other children, Eden and Hope, it's just that in 2004 when she was born, I had transitioned. No longer was I just a girl, a journalist, and (recently) a wife, but I had a child. A child who made me look at myself in a completely different way, a new classification one might say.
Now, don't misunderstand me. I didn't become an all-knowing mother overnight. Hell, I've been a mum for nearly 8 years now, and I'd say, almost on a daily basis I'm confused, frustrated and struggling to know the right thing to say, the right way to react.
And, in no way is my experience unique to any other mother.
When I started this blog, I was Tara's mum.
7 years and 9 months on, I still am.
Facebook sux - I'm back
Yes, Facebook has consumed my life. Since August 2008, (aka my last blog), I have ignored my followers and succumbed to the alluring beauty of Zuckerburg's rip-off of someone else's social platform.
I now think I need an outlet for my creative juices which is not limited to the 150 character limit of status updates.
Henceforth, I have reinstated my blog and hope you will dive into my literary foray once more.
I'll keep you all posted!
Monday, 18 August 2008
Has it really been a year since my last post???
I can't believe it has been a year since I posted last!
Damn facebook - so addictive!
Basically life is hectic, wonderful and fun..the girls have grown up so much and I'm NOT pregnant again! HAHAHHA
Tara is 4 and a half now, Eden is 3 and Hope is my little feisty 18 month old.
I'm back into Kickboxing - which I love - and bascially BUSY all the time.
But, that's life, and we have our health, family and wonderful friends.
Will post some new pics soon
Damn facebook - so addictive!
Basically life is hectic, wonderful and fun..the girls have grown up so much and I'm NOT pregnant again! HAHAHHA
Tara is 4 and a half now, Eden is 3 and Hope is my little feisty 18 month old.
I'm back into Kickboxing - which I love - and bascially BUSY all the time.
But, that's life, and we have our health, family and wonderful friends.
Will post some new pics soon
Monday, 20 August 2007
NO NO NO NO NO! When you're two it's your favourite word!
She looks sweet, doesn't she?
Well, our sweet, sweet Eden has turned into a screaming, tantum throwing, bullying, screeching stubborn 2-and-a-bit year old.
While she's still utterly edible, the "NO's" are really getting to me.
On an hourly basis, Tara and her have ear-pitching screaming matches I'm sure everyone within a 5km radium can hear them.
I think I need to invest in some wax earplugs!
Friday, 3 August 2007
'Tis the season to be sniffly!
Having three little children to take care of (four including my husband) during this cough and cold period is, in a nutshell exhausting.
Runny noses, "mum, wipe my nose", fever "mum, i'm hot", runny noses "mum, i need a tissue NOW" is all I've been dealing with for the last week. The most disgusting thing is when they sneeze and two sausage shaped green slugs hang like algae, often past their rosy lips only to be licked up by greedy little tongues...mmm tasty.
The only saving grace has been a combination of Panadol, Nurofen and Dimmetapp (in my opinion, the best of the three as it knocks them out, only joking)
It's a good think doctor mum hasn't got the leurgy - hubby refuses to kiss me - or else I'd have to hire a nanny, or three.
Oh, I also had a nasty fall which resulted in a concussion and posible fracture of my (pride) elbow. And, for all those who know me, don't roll your eyes, I know I'm clumsy, but honest it wasn't my fault this time, the chair slipped. Another xray has been added to my mammoth pile.
On the book front, it's really steam-rolling ahead, a little scary yet exciting nevertheless.
That's about it, keep smiling and wear your face masks when you go out.
Runny noses, "mum, wipe my nose", fever "mum, i'm hot", runny noses "mum, i need a tissue NOW" is all I've been dealing with for the last week. The most disgusting thing is when they sneeze and two sausage shaped green slugs hang like algae, often past their rosy lips only to be licked up by greedy little tongues...mmm tasty.
The only saving grace has been a combination of Panadol, Nurofen and Dimmetapp (in my opinion, the best of the three as it knocks them out, only joking)
It's a good think doctor mum hasn't got the leurgy - hubby refuses to kiss me - or else I'd have to hire a nanny, or three.
Oh, I also had a nasty fall which resulted in a concussion and posible fracture of my (pride) elbow. And, for all those who know me, don't roll your eyes, I know I'm clumsy, but honest it wasn't my fault this time, the chair slipped. Another xray has been added to my mammoth pile.
On the book front, it's really steam-rolling ahead, a little scary yet exciting nevertheless.
That's about it, keep smiling and wear your face masks when you go out.
Sunday, 22 July 2007
Hope Madeleine - You're now a Catholic! Happy Baptism
We baptised our gorgeous third girl - and it was a beautiful day.
She was the perfect baby, and didn't even cry!
Pity about this shocking Sydney weather though, it was freezing and then pissed down as we left church. I don't know why I straightened my hair as I soon turned into a fraggle when the rain started to pitter-pattr down.
Anyway, enough of my hair dramas, here are some pics of the day.
Enjoy!
Monday, 18 June 2007
The death of the Good Samaritan
How is it fair that a God Samaritan is shot dead in busy Melbourne CBD?
It isn't fair, and there seems to be no rhyme or reason.
For all those haven't heard, two strangers ran to the help of a young woman who was being pulled by her hair out of a cab when the assailant opened fire and shot the two men who came to the woman's help and herself as well. One of the men died at the scene, while the woman and the other man are in a critical condition. What a tragedy.
As I recalled the incident to my husband over the phone, he was just as shocked as I was, but also said,
"See, that's exactly why people do not come to the aid of other people."
I see his point, but I would still like to think that I would rush to help someone in trouble as long as it would not endanger my children - and I know my husband would not think twice before helping someone in need.
My prayers are with the families of those involved.
While the situations I have been in are no where as dire as a shooting, I have been in a situation where I needed someones help and everyone around me turned a blind eye. I was about 36 weeks pregnant and had driven myself to hospital one avo thinking I may be in labour. As I pulled into the Emergency Department carpark, I couldn't find a spot to park, except for a very tight spot which I could barely squeeze my commodore into. I didn't want to block the entrance as then I would stop the Ambulances coming in. Anyway , there was a burly middle aged man yakking on his mobile phone, his hire-car driver's side door open blocking me from swinging my car into the mini spot. So, I get out, clutching my swollen belly and ask him if he could move his car please as I think I'm in labour and can't get my car in the spot. Now, you would assume that he'd say, no problem, however the reality was this:
"You stupid, fucking woman, if you can't drive or park your car, you are a fucken idiot, now fuck off.''
He then returned, annoyed, yakking on his phone.
For the first time in my life, I was speechless. Tears of anger stung my eyes, but I didn't want to give him the pleasure of seeing me cry.I got back in my car and for a split second seriously contemplated putting my foot on the accelerator and ramming his car into oblivion, but I was pregnant and my baby's life was not worth this piece of shit chauffeur. There were plenty of people who heard what went on, and they just stood there gawking. After a few minutes, one man said he'd park my car for me, but by this stage, there was a free spot and I parked it in, my hands shaking. As I waddled to the Emergency doors, I walked past this poor excuse for a human and said to him that I thought he was the rudest man I had ever met. His response,
"Fuck off."
If my husband or dad or brother were there, they would have rammed his head through the windscreen and then he really would have needed medical help. I would have smashed his head in, but again being pregnant not worth the risk to my baby, you just never know how someone will react.
It's just so disappointing that so many people in this world are just horrible and mean.
It isn't fair, and there seems to be no rhyme or reason.
For all those haven't heard, two strangers ran to the help of a young woman who was being pulled by her hair out of a cab when the assailant opened fire and shot the two men who came to the woman's help and herself as well. One of the men died at the scene, while the woman and the other man are in a critical condition. What a tragedy.
As I recalled the incident to my husband over the phone, he was just as shocked as I was, but also said,
"See, that's exactly why people do not come to the aid of other people."
I see his point, but I would still like to think that I would rush to help someone in trouble as long as it would not endanger my children - and I know my husband would not think twice before helping someone in need.
My prayers are with the families of those involved.
While the situations I have been in are no where as dire as a shooting, I have been in a situation where I needed someones help and everyone around me turned a blind eye. I was about 36 weeks pregnant and had driven myself to hospital one avo thinking I may be in labour. As I pulled into the Emergency Department carpark, I couldn't find a spot to park, except for a very tight spot which I could barely squeeze my commodore into. I didn't want to block the entrance as then I would stop the Ambulances coming in. Anyway , there was a burly middle aged man yakking on his mobile phone, his hire-car driver's side door open blocking me from swinging my car into the mini spot. So, I get out, clutching my swollen belly and ask him if he could move his car please as I think I'm in labour and can't get my car in the spot. Now, you would assume that he'd say, no problem, however the reality was this:
"You stupid, fucking woman, if you can't drive or park your car, you are a fucken idiot, now fuck off.''
He then returned, annoyed, yakking on his phone.
For the first time in my life, I was speechless. Tears of anger stung my eyes, but I didn't want to give him the pleasure of seeing me cry.I got back in my car and for a split second seriously contemplated putting my foot on the accelerator and ramming his car into oblivion, but I was pregnant and my baby's life was not worth this piece of shit chauffeur. There were plenty of people who heard what went on, and they just stood there gawking. After a few minutes, one man said he'd park my car for me, but by this stage, there was a free spot and I parked it in, my hands shaking. As I waddled to the Emergency doors, I walked past this poor excuse for a human and said to him that I thought he was the rudest man I had ever met. His response,
"Fuck off."
If my husband or dad or brother were there, they would have rammed his head through the windscreen and then he really would have needed medical help. I would have smashed his head in, but again being pregnant not worth the risk to my baby, you just never know how someone will react.
It's just so disappointing that so many people in this world are just horrible and mean.
Wednesday, 13 June 2007
Monday, 4 June 2007
40 years of Israeli Occupation
This week marks 40 years of the remainder of Palestinian lands being illegally occupied by Israel.
It was 40 years ago when Israel illegally stripped more Palestinians of their right of a homeland, basic human rights and freedom.
This was the 6 day War of 1967.
Today, the world still turns a blind eye to the inhumane treatment of Palestinians - because they are are simply not recognised as Human.
And Oprah will be going as a sign of Solidarity to Jews on a tour of Israel. I thought she fought against oppression and crimes against humanity. I thought she was anti-Apartheid. I thought she built schools for poor African girls. Sorry, I forgot, Palestinian children don't matter, Palestinians aren't human.
I ask you to remember, to learn the truth, to stop occupation - of the mind, body and spirit. De-humanisation forces people to lose the will to live. Countless Palestinians have lost the will to live, many have simply ceased to live.
I know of one person who lived under occupation his whole short life. He took the only thing he had possession of - his life, extinguished his flame which had dwindled to an ember living under Israeli oppression.
And the wall still goes up!
If your in Sydney next Saturday - as a sign of solidarity of basic human rights join a peaceful rally asking the world simply to remember.
Saturday June 9
1pm
Sydney Town Hall 1pm
Hope to see you all there
It was 40 years ago when Israel illegally stripped more Palestinians of their right of a homeland, basic human rights and freedom.
This was the 6 day War of 1967.
Today, the world still turns a blind eye to the inhumane treatment of Palestinians - because they are are simply not recognised as Human.
And Oprah will be going as a sign of Solidarity to Jews on a tour of Israel. I thought she fought against oppression and crimes against humanity. I thought she was anti-Apartheid. I thought she built schools for poor African girls. Sorry, I forgot, Palestinian children don't matter, Palestinians aren't human.
I ask you to remember, to learn the truth, to stop occupation - of the mind, body and spirit. De-humanisation forces people to lose the will to live. Countless Palestinians have lost the will to live, many have simply ceased to live.
I know of one person who lived under occupation his whole short life. He took the only thing he had possession of - his life, extinguished his flame which had dwindled to an ember living under Israeli oppression.
And the wall still goes up!
If your in Sydney next Saturday - as a sign of solidarity of basic human rights join a peaceful rally asking the world simply to remember.
Saturday June 9
1pm
Sydney Town Hall 1pm
Hope to see you all there
Saturday, 2 June 2007
Eden is 2! Happy Birthday baby
My beautiful Eden turned two - it still astounds me how fast life zooms by!
She's an amazing child, affectionate, loving and CHEEKY! Everyone nick names her Sweet, Sweet Edee because she is so sweet and just edible! Here are some pics from her party.
Enjoy!
She's an amazing child, affectionate, loving and CHEEKY! Everyone nick names her Sweet, Sweet Edee because she is so sweet and just edible! Here are some pics from her party.
Enjoy!
Thursday, 17 May 2007
Do you want to be a chapter in my book??
Ever since I was little, I knew I wanted to write. Short stories, poetry, comic books, plays etc etc etc.
And like most frustrated writers, I have a million unfinished books in my head - and for as long as I can remember, those closest and dearest to me have been urging to write these ideas down.
So, today as I was wiping my toddlers' runny noses, an idea hit me. I mean, my girls are a bit of this and a bit of that. Living in Australia, I'm lucky that it's such a multi-cultural society. Nearly everyone I know is either first or second generation Aussie. From across Europe and the Middle East, the common factor for parents or grandparents coming to Australia was for a better life.
I grew up surrounded by other 'wogs' who came from a country that existed: Italy, Lebanon, France. But, how about me? Palestine? Where's that? It doesn't exist.
I still struggle with my identity. I know who I am, but which part of me will I pass on to my girls? Am I more Australian than Arab? Would I be the same person if I grew up in the Middle East, US or UK? It's not a unique question by any stretch of the imagination, but I truly believe that Palestinians who live outside of the "Territories" may have a common bond and have struggled with the same questions about their identity. My own parents grew up In Jordan and have their own stories and issues.
So, I am calling on any person of Palestinian heritage who is willing for me to pick their brains and write their stories. These can be anonymous, just let me know if your interested or pass on to anyone you think may be.
Peace
And like most frustrated writers, I have a million unfinished books in my head - and for as long as I can remember, those closest and dearest to me have been urging to write these ideas down.
So, today as I was wiping my toddlers' runny noses, an idea hit me. I mean, my girls are a bit of this and a bit of that. Living in Australia, I'm lucky that it's such a multi-cultural society. Nearly everyone I know is either first or second generation Aussie. From across Europe and the Middle East, the common factor for parents or grandparents coming to Australia was for a better life.
I grew up surrounded by other 'wogs' who came from a country that existed: Italy, Lebanon, France. But, how about me? Palestine? Where's that? It doesn't exist.
I still struggle with my identity. I know who I am, but which part of me will I pass on to my girls? Am I more Australian than Arab? Would I be the same person if I grew up in the Middle East, US or UK? It's not a unique question by any stretch of the imagination, but I truly believe that Palestinians who live outside of the "Territories" may have a common bond and have struggled with the same questions about their identity. My own parents grew up In Jordan and have their own stories and issues.
So, I am calling on any person of Palestinian heritage who is willing for me to pick their brains and write their stories. These can be anonymous, just let me know if your interested or pass on to anyone you think may be.
Peace
Monday, 14 May 2007
More pictures....
I don't have any inspiration to write anything, so thought I'd just post a beautiful pic of my gorgeous baby Hope!
ENJOY
Friday, 4 May 2007
She's all grown up - Tara's first day at Pre-school
I've been umm-ing and ahh-ing about starting Tara into pre-school this year - or wait till next year. I was worried about whether she was too young and whether I'd actually find a space for her. You see, if you haven't got a baby you have no idea how hard it is to get a place into a pre-school. Waiting lists are over two-years long and it didn't help that we only moved into the area late last year. I did the preliminary call around a few months ago, and I either got one of two responses:
1)You've got to be joking, (followed by an hysterical giggle),
or
2) You can go one our waiting list, it will only cost you $3000 which is NOT refundable.
So imagine my surprise when I called this very highly recommended Kindy on Tuesday afternoon when the very nice woman said that ''YES, we have ONE spot left, the term starts tomorrow.''
I couldn't believe my luck! I ran down to the school armed with my $100 and Tara's immunisation records and got her enrolled. Now, when I think about it, I'm glad it all happened to quickly - I didn't have time to fret or get nervous, or chicken out.
The next morning, we drove to the Kindy ready for tantrums and tears.
It would have been nice if the little poo-head gave a SHIT about me!!!
I was so devastated. My hubby gave her a kiss and waved goodbye. She hardly gave him the time if day. I hung around for an hour, watching her, waiting for a breakdown. She completely ignored me, too engrossed in shoveling sand into a toy tractor. I sat back and watched, nervous to leave, my heart in my throat as the teacher introduced Tara to the class. With trepidation, I approached her, testing the water.
``Ok, mummy has to go now.'' I held my breath, waiting, waiting.
``Bye mummy,'' she said cooly, pushing me away, not even wanting me to slop a wet one on her pouty lips.
I stood there, DUMBFOUNDED for what felt like an eternity. Then turned my back and walked away.
My baby was growing up - and at the speed of light. I sat and bawled in the car. I suppose I should be happy. She was happy. I knew I had done the right thing. But it still stung that she didn't cling to me like the last rays of sun on a stunning summer day. I was proud - bursting actually - that I had raised such a confident girl. And, she had a ball. Ate all her lunch and morning tea (and like a good wog mum I not only packed her TWO lunch boxes but a stinky salami sandwich to boot), jumped up and down during rest time on the little cots and created a colourful crepe-paper-stuck-down-with-copious-amounts-of-glue art work which she was bursting to show her daddy.
When I picked her up, she spotted me in the car park before I even reached the playground. ''MUMMY" she screeched.
Is there any other word as beautiful?
Sunday, 29 April 2007
Bonking Chimps and Elephant Poo
From the title of this blog, I would forgive you if you'd assumed the subject matter was about the latest piece of pure top class television viewing (not!), i.e Big Brother. But, despite the titillating (and yes, I know that was a cheap shot) and edge-of-your seat drama that Big Brother is, my blog this evening is about a most pleasant family outing we had at Taronga Zoo.
The glorious Sydney Autumn morning - you know the type, streaming golden sunshine, picture perfect cloudless blue sky with just a hint of chill in the breeze - beckoned our little family out to enjoy what promised to be an awe filled ( for the babies) and exhausting (for me and hubby) day at the Zoo.
For those who aren't familiar with Taronga Zoo, it's an old animal house that's recently had a facelift. And, yes, the renovations and new Elephant sanctuary are world class. But, what I love most about Taronga Zoo is the breathtaking view from nearly every part of the park. Built at Mosman, it has arguably the best view of Sydney Harbour and the City Skyline. So, I suppose the astronomical amount of money you spend, in a way, is sort of justified for the old cliched million dollar view.
Pushing a double stroller and trying to contain my effervescent 3-year-old, we explored the zoo. Oh, and I forgot to mention, Taronga is the best place to lose a few kilo's of fat while tightening up those hamstrings. It's set on the hill and if it weren't for the cable car flying you back to the entrance, I dare say hundreds of tourists would perish and would no doubtingly supply an endless supply of fresh meat for the lone raggedy Lion.
Which brings me to the animals.
In essence, I don't agree with animals locked up purely for our viewing pleasure - that's what Big Brother is for (ok, another cheap shot). I know zoo's do a lot of good with conservation yada, yada, yada, but watching a big, black bear pace back and forth for HOURS on an elevated log like some deranged tightrope walker, begs one to ask if the animals aren't being mentally tortured. However, having voiced my moral outrage, I stood with all the other humans gawking at chimps indiscriminately bonking one another and finally understood how the creators of Big Brother found their inspiration! ( Ok, now I'm getting sick of my stupid Big Brother jokes).
I'm not a massive animal lover, but I do have a soft spot for Apes and Monkeys. I'm always in awe of the Giraffes - which Tara proclaimed as her favourite - and the Elephant's are cool. Eden loved the bird show and my hubby liked the Big Cats. One animal I really can't stand are stupid, ugly Koalas. Call me un-Australian, but I really, really hate Koalas. They are just too freaking weird! The way they sleep statue-like in trees (they don't even look real), they way they hiss and bark, and their rubbery noses almost make me want to vomit. Their babies look like maggots and their beady little eyes, are quite frankly - scary.
Anyway, despite paying $37 for two adult burgers, two kids burgers and four chips (yes, food vendors at the zoo think they can charge ridiculous amounts of money for slop which we hungrily swallow after walking for four hours), we had a marvellous day.
I hope the girls remember their first trip to the zoo, probably not, but just watching their wide-eyed expressions as they saw the animals of their picture books for the first time in the flesh, was priceless.
Tuesday, 6 March 2007
Introducing Hope - My third beautiful princess!
Guess what?
I had a beautiful little, healthy girl on February 21 at 6.05am.
And, as you can see by the photo above, she really, truly is stunning.
I can't describe how wonderful I feel. I really anticipated with each bub, it would get a lot harder, but Hope is just the perfect little baby. I feel re-energised, happy and I still want to have more children. But, I think I'd better give my body a little break as having three kids under three is a handful (that's an understatement!). Plus, once we have another baby, I'll have to trade in my beast of a car - the other love of my life - and I'm not quite ready to drive a van.
As with my other two girls - Tara and Eden - I am completely in love and in awe of her. The girls just adore her. Eden has smacked her a few times and Tara has nearly smothered her with love on more than one occasion. But all in all, life is wonderful.
I am so truly blessed, I thank God everyday.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)