It's been just over a year since we arrived in Australia! It's very hard to believe it's been that long though, at times it seems like it's been a lifetime since I was back in the States.
Things feel mostly normal with the occasional uprising of trepidation. It's quite unsettling to be able to take nothing for granted. Like, for example, I still can't trust that one day I won't look up and find myself driving on the wrong side of the road. It's only happened once in a year and just as Mark warned, it happened when there were no cars around, thank goodness.
It's tough having to think about how much something weighs or how far away a place is or what 17 degrees will feel like. Mailing a letter means going to the post office because I haven't bought a book of stamps yet. I don't know if they sell books of stamps nor do I know how much postage is required for a simple letter.
My wallet still weighs 100 pounds (50 kilograms) because there are no notes smaller than a $5. I end up with a bunch of $1 and $2 coins in my purse because I don't want to have to inspect each one to determine the denomination before I start to count. It goes something like this.. "okay, that one is $1.. this is $2, that makes $3.. here's $.50.. shit, how much do I have now? $2.50? Alright, that one is $1 and this is $2. Don't forget to go to the post office to mail that letter. This one is $.20.. no $.50...." "I know it's only $4, but can I pay with my debit card, I mean EFTOS?" (whatever the hell that is.)
A new boy joined Makena's class a few weeks ago. He and his family are from Canada. I instantly befriended the mom; it's amazing how much you can have in common with a complete stranger. I picked her up one night to meet some of the moms for a drink at a local restaurant. When the time came to order drinks from the bar she deferred to me because she wasn't sure how to do it. It's exactly the same, well except for the inevitable miscommunication caused by the conflicting accents. But, I knew what she was feeling. It's almost as though for months on end you haven't taken a deep breath. Because, taking a deep breath means you will switch off for that split second while you inhale just a bit deeper. Switching off isn't allowed because you might be forced to think right at that exact moment! The last thing you want is to look like an idiot doing something that is mundane to everyone else; how uncool.
That's a look into the emotional side of being here a year.. I'll post something about the tangibles later.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Kiddos
Here are some photos of the kiddos. The ones of Kess were taken at St. Mary's. That's where he goes to "kinder". I can't remember if I have written about it before or not, but it's a council (government) provided preschool program. It's just 2 days a week, 3 hours each day. It's about 2 blocks away from where we live currently. Kessler loves it!!! He skips all the way there and exclaims with glee, "I'm so excited!" as he bounds down the sidewalk.
Makena's are through Brighton Primary. She's doing really well. Some of her friends call her Mrs. No. Hopefully she remembers this for the boys when she's a teenager!
Makena's are through Brighton Primary. She's doing really well. Some of her friends call her Mrs. No. Hopefully she remembers this for the boys when she's a teenager!
Saturday, April 9, 2011
At the footy
Had a wonderful birthday yesterday complete with chocolate cake, sprinkles and gummi dinosaurs. We went to Bendigo to see Mark's grandma, aunties, uncles and cousin. Mark's grandma isn't doing so well, that was quite tough to see.
Today we are at the footy match... Essendon and St. Kilda..Mark's team and Makena and my team. I've recently decided to piss on Mark's parade and become an Essendon fan. It's hard to talk shit when you barrack for the same team.
(I had a photo but when I try to upload it from my phone.. it's sideways and I can't fix it.)
Today we are at the footy match... Essendon and St. Kilda..Mark's team and Makena and my team. I've recently decided to piss on Mark's parade and become an Essendon fan. It's hard to talk shit when you barrack for the same team.
(I had a photo but when I try to upload it from my phone.. it's sideways and I can't fix it.)
Sunday, April 3, 2011
So Inappropriate..
Last night Mark and I attended an "Inappropriate Party" hosted by the parents of one of Makena's classmates from last year. We were given several weeks notice which is of no benefit to me. I don't get serious about these things unless time is of the essence. Also, we weren't sure we'd be able to find a babysitter.
As time grew closer I started to fret. I don't remember ever going to a costume party even as a child; I really wasn't sure what to expect. Anyway--I finally had an idea--Hugh Hefner and a pregnant playboy bunny. And I'll be damned if the second that entered my head, I couldn't think of anything else. After a couple of days of desperately trying to come up with an idea that didn't involve me wearing a bunny tail I set out to put together the costume. Dammit!
After several trips to the costume shop-- trying to find a bunny suit that was big enough for a pregnant belly but not too big for my less than pregnant bosom--I finally determined that such a costume doesn't exist. Yet, the mental block that was disallowing any other ideas to flow freely was still in full force. I finally pieced together enough of an outfit with what I had at home. And had 2 very sleepless nights stressing over my choice of costumes. "It's just like wearing a bathing suit--it's just like wearing a bathing suit…” became my mantra.
The morning of the party we had to go back to the mall to pick up some final accessories--namely inserts to assist my bosom. As Mark and I were standing in front of the display, pondering my options, Makena said, "Look, it fits (or it sticks--I'm not sure which one)". She had lifted her shirt up and had one of the falsies stuck to her bare chest. There comes a point when you realize your kids are far more aware of what’s going on than you thought (like deducing the purpose (somewhat) of an object by looking at the package.)—this was definitely that point. Makena—we owe you a few therapy sessions for that one. Sorry, sweetheart.
The babysitter issue was resolved by the party’s host. They gave us the number to a nanny service and we shared a sitter with another family—some friends of ours who are also parents from last year’s class. A few hours before the party, the mom sent me a text with concerns about the logistics of leaving the kids with the sitter—she couldn’t have the sitter see her in her get-up. Apparently the sitters from this agency are of the mature variety.
Good thinking, Rebecca! Janet was probably in her 70s, extremely nice and extremely proper! She kept referring to Kessler as the “little gentleman”. I was embarrassed to be wearing my diversion dress and fish nets, let alone a bunny outfit. It took us about 45 minutes to leave because the little gentleman was not warming up to Janet. She was taking it in stride—encouraging us to leave and all would be fine. We finally did make the mad dash to the door—by the time we got settled into the car we could hear that he had settled.
We finished getting dressed at Rob and Rebecca’s. I was so relieved to see their costumes—Rebecca was a suicide bomber with a see thru burka. It was awesome. Rob was a pedophile priest complete with bible, advertisements of child models from clothing magazines falling from it and a broken zipper. He also had a pedophile’s hair cut as well (who knew they had one)?
The party was a blast—complete with inappropriate games and food. We stayed out until 2:00 a.m. I cannot remember the last time that happened. I had to don my diversion dress to return home. To confirm that we made the right decision about said dress, Janet walked to the front door and hesitated. I opened the door for her and we walked her to her car as she thanked me, explaining that it wasn't proper for the guest to open the door of someone else's home.
As time grew closer I started to fret. I don't remember ever going to a costume party even as a child; I really wasn't sure what to expect. Anyway--I finally had an idea--Hugh Hefner and a pregnant playboy bunny. And I'll be damned if the second that entered my head, I couldn't think of anything else. After a couple of days of desperately trying to come up with an idea that didn't involve me wearing a bunny tail I set out to put together the costume. Dammit!
After several trips to the costume shop-- trying to find a bunny suit that was big enough for a pregnant belly but not too big for my less than pregnant bosom--I finally determined that such a costume doesn't exist. Yet, the mental block that was disallowing any other ideas to flow freely was still in full force. I finally pieced together enough of an outfit with what I had at home. And had 2 very sleepless nights stressing over my choice of costumes. "It's just like wearing a bathing suit--it's just like wearing a bathing suit…” became my mantra.
The morning of the party we had to go back to the mall to pick up some final accessories--namely inserts to assist my bosom. As Mark and I were standing in front of the display, pondering my options, Makena said, "Look, it fits (or it sticks--I'm not sure which one)". She had lifted her shirt up and had one of the falsies stuck to her bare chest. There comes a point when you realize your kids are far more aware of what’s going on than you thought (like deducing the purpose (somewhat) of an object by looking at the package.)—this was definitely that point. Makena—we owe you a few therapy sessions for that one. Sorry, sweetheart.
The babysitter issue was resolved by the party’s host. They gave us the number to a nanny service and we shared a sitter with another family—some friends of ours who are also parents from last year’s class. A few hours before the party, the mom sent me a text with concerns about the logistics of leaving the kids with the sitter—she couldn’t have the sitter see her in her get-up. Apparently the sitters from this agency are of the mature variety.
Good thinking, Rebecca! Janet was probably in her 70s, extremely nice and extremely proper! She kept referring to Kessler as the “little gentleman”. I was embarrassed to be wearing my diversion dress and fish nets, let alone a bunny outfit. It took us about 45 minutes to leave because the little gentleman was not warming up to Janet. She was taking it in stride—encouraging us to leave and all would be fine. We finally did make the mad dash to the door—by the time we got settled into the car we could hear that he had settled.
We finished getting dressed at Rob and Rebecca’s. I was so relieved to see their costumes—Rebecca was a suicide bomber with a see thru burka. It was awesome. Rob was a pedophile priest complete with bible, advertisements of child models from clothing magazines falling from it and a broken zipper. He also had a pedophile’s hair cut as well (who knew they had one)?
The party was a blast—complete with inappropriate games and food. We stayed out until 2:00 a.m. I cannot remember the last time that happened. I had to don my diversion dress to return home. To confirm that we made the right decision about said dress, Janet walked to the front door and hesitated. I opened the door for her and we walked her to her car as she thanked me, explaining that it wasn't proper for the guest to open the door of someone else's home.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Rubbish!!
Last year I loved Makena's school. But, I've grown a bit cold this year. There are a lot of reasons for this; most of which I will keep to myself as I ponder them endlessly. (It sucks to be nonconfrontational sometimes.) One reason is self-induced (volunteering to be class rep) so I can't count that one--at least not in this post. I'll do a self loathing post later. But one reason is just a quagmire of disappointment, for lack of a better description.
Those who know me know I live in a world of oblivion. For example, our realtor commented a few months ago that some/one/all of the taps in our house were the opposite of what they should be. Turn on cold, you get hot... No way. I asked Mark; he confirmed. We lived there for 3 1/2 years and I didn't know this? There's little doubt in my mind that I repeatedly turned on the wrong tap, realized my error then turned on the correct one, never giving it a second thought. So, when I noticed the school yard had a lot of litter--that meant it had a LOTof litter. Everyday at drop off and pick up I would step over it, just as all the other moms, dads and kids did. And everyday I would have this inner monologue.
"Wow, I can't believe all of this garbage!"
"I should at least pick up what I'm stepping on/over."
"Yes, but where would you put it?"
"Surely, they'll clean it up soon."
On top of the guilt I had for not doing anything about, I was starting to get disgusted that the kids were playing amongst all the trash, THEN I really started to stew about what a poor example this was for the kids (the fact that they were allowed to leave the grounds looking like that AND that all the moms, dads and teachers were clearly okay with it too!)
Enough is enough I said! I wanted to do something about it without being confrontational. I decided I'd recruit Makena's class to help me clean up after school that day. I mean, movies are made about moments like this.. okay, maybe that's only in my head. So, I sent out an email:
"Hi everyone, As I walked through the playground this morning, dodging litter, I thought why not just pick it up! I'm going to recruit Makena to help me today after pick up. Anyone want to join us; I'll bring extra trash bag?"
All day I imagined the little preppies working together cleaning up the rubbish. All the moms and dads would be so proud; the principal would thank them at assembly. It was a beautiful thought.
Reality was a little different. Makena and I clamoring around by ourselves in the sweltering heat (temperature was 20 degrees higher than the day before). That was until Makena spat the dummy and left me on my own to pick up the garbage AND deflect her incessent whining. "Why do I have to do it?" "Well, there's a very good answer for that, but I'm too hot and pissed to tell you now." I was determined though--I got my head back in the game, continually reaffirming that I was doing the right thing.
And then.. and then she turned up. "Hi Kelly. I got your email. This is not your responsibility. You need to stop. No one is going to thank you. You look like an.. " she finally paused and thought better of finishing that sentence. I stuttered and stumbled as I spat out my retorts--I don't need a thank you.. I don't care what I look like (except the whale tail from my pants sticking to my legs when I bend over.. that kind of bothers me).. I'm doing this for my daughter--I want to set a better example.. "No, you need to stop.. you need to complain to the principal." The irony is that that would have been much less confrontational than the passive approach I took. I wouldn't have gotten nearly as stinky and sweaty either.
She finally left. I was even more determined to get the yard spotless.. for about a nano second. I waffled back and forth between quitting and seeing it through. One minute I was telling Makena we were leaving only to find myself walking in the opposite direction picking up more crap. (The kids were literally using the garbage to make structures..) We were finally done in about an hour. It wasn't 100% but certainly good enough. I think we collected about 1 1/2 bags of garbage.
The next morning some of the parents complimented us on how much better it looked. Many explained that they couldn't stay to help because they had other commitments (I did only give them a few hours notice afterall). Then at pick up, sadly there was more garbage. Not nearly what we cleaned up the day before, but definitely an indication that in a few weeks time our efforts will have proven to be futile. Well, except for the fact that Makena will now be able to say, "One day, my damn mom made me clean up everyone elses' garbage while they got to play on the monkey bars!!!"
Sorry Mak-Naks--hopefully this will make sense one day!
Those who know me know I live in a world of oblivion. For example, our realtor commented a few months ago that some/one/all of the taps in our house were the opposite of what they should be. Turn on cold, you get hot... No way. I asked Mark; he confirmed. We lived there for 3 1/2 years and I didn't know this? There's little doubt in my mind that I repeatedly turned on the wrong tap, realized my error then turned on the correct one, never giving it a second thought. So, when I noticed the school yard had a lot of litter--that meant it had a LOTof litter. Everyday at drop off and pick up I would step over it, just as all the other moms, dads and kids did. And everyday I would have this inner monologue.
"Wow, I can't believe all of this garbage!"
"I should at least pick up what I'm stepping on/over."
"Yes, but where would you put it?"
"Surely, they'll clean it up soon."
On top of the guilt I had for not doing anything about, I was starting to get disgusted that the kids were playing amongst all the trash, THEN I really started to stew about what a poor example this was for the kids (the fact that they were allowed to leave the grounds looking like that AND that all the moms, dads and teachers were clearly okay with it too!)
Enough is enough I said! I wanted to do something about it without being confrontational. I decided I'd recruit Makena's class to help me clean up after school that day. I mean, movies are made about moments like this.. okay, maybe that's only in my head. So, I sent out an email:
"Hi everyone, As I walked through the playground this morning, dodging litter, I thought why not just pick it up! I'm going to recruit Makena to help me today after pick up. Anyone want to join us; I'll bring extra trash bag?"
All day I imagined the little preppies working together cleaning up the rubbish. All the moms and dads would be so proud; the principal would thank them at assembly. It was a beautiful thought.
Reality was a little different. Makena and I clamoring around by ourselves in the sweltering heat (temperature was 20 degrees higher than the day before). That was until Makena spat the dummy and left me on my own to pick up the garbage AND deflect her incessent whining. "Why do I have to do it?" "Well, there's a very good answer for that, but I'm too hot and pissed to tell you now." I was determined though--I got my head back in the game, continually reaffirming that I was doing the right thing.
And then.. and then she turned up. "Hi Kelly. I got your email. This is not your responsibility. You need to stop. No one is going to thank you. You look like an.. " she finally paused and thought better of finishing that sentence. I stuttered and stumbled as I spat out my retorts--I don't need a thank you.. I don't care what I look like (except the whale tail from my pants sticking to my legs when I bend over.. that kind of bothers me).. I'm doing this for my daughter--I want to set a better example.. "No, you need to stop.. you need to complain to the principal." The irony is that that would have been much less confrontational than the passive approach I took. I wouldn't have gotten nearly as stinky and sweaty either.
She finally left. I was even more determined to get the yard spotless.. for about a nano second. I waffled back and forth between quitting and seeing it through. One minute I was telling Makena we were leaving only to find myself walking in the opposite direction picking up more crap. (The kids were literally using the garbage to make structures..) We were finally done in about an hour. It wasn't 100% but certainly good enough. I think we collected about 1 1/2 bags of garbage.
The next morning some of the parents complimented us on how much better it looked. Many explained that they couldn't stay to help because they had other commitments (I did only give them a few hours notice afterall). Then at pick up, sadly there was more garbage. Not nearly what we cleaned up the day before, but definitely an indication that in a few weeks time our efforts will have proven to be futile. Well, except for the fact that Makena will now be able to say, "One day, my damn mom made me clean up everyone elses' garbage while they got to play on the monkey bars!!!"
Sorry Mak-Naks--hopefully this will make sense one day!
Monday, March 28, 2011
Rock you!
(I was looking through the videos I've accumulated and came across this one. It was easy enough to edit, so here it is!)
There's an assembly every Monday morning at Makena's school. At the end of last year the band played this song. It quickly became one of Makena's favorite songs and subsequently one of Kessler's. The ever obliging daddy ripped it to CD so we could enjoy it while in the car! : )
There's an assembly every Monday morning at Makena's school. At the end of last year the band played this song. It quickly became one of Makena's favorite songs and subsequently one of Kessler's. The ever obliging daddy ripped it to CD so we could enjoy it while in the car! : )
What happened was..
Kessler was in a big Christmas concert back in December. It was 3 hours long; every kid performed the entire 3 hours. It was absolutely adorable, but required a lot of editing. It will take me hours to find software and edit it and since I hadn't finished my immigration paperwork or our 2009 taxes, I decided I'd better put it on the back burner. And unfortunately, I have a very difficult time updating the blog out of sequence. One of my quirks, I guess. Anyway, it makes me quite sad to think of all the things that didn't make it to the blog during that time. And even though the immigration paperwork is done (pending with immigration), 2009 AND 2010 taxes are done--I still feel inundated with responsibilities.
I've decided that's no excuse. You see, a few weeks ago we went to Tasmania for Mark's best friend's father's funeral. It was an amazing funeral, as odd as that sounds. They spoke a lot about Barry. They played several of his favorite songs, all country--which was quite appropriate for a funeral. One of the speakers was Mark's friend, Barry's son. Among other things, he talked about how his father always remembered everything. He recently found out that this was because he kept a journal and would frequently go back and reread what he had written. I only met Barry once, maybe twice. But from the stories Mark told about him (and the eulogies) he's not the kind of guy you'd peg for having a diary. It made me realize that if a hardcore guy like Barry cherished his memories so much to write them down and read them, then everyone should do it. Then I remembered that I had been doing that with my blog--and I also remembered the joy of going back and reading the stories, stories that would have otherwise been forgotten.
So, here I am.. setting aside my quirk to move forward with the help of Barry. Thanks, mate.
It's been almost 10 months since we landed in Melbourne. I can't believe it's been that long--yet, I also can't believe it hasn't been longer! Makena is back in Prep again. Since she started halfway through last year and just barely met the birthday cut off to start prep anyway, we decided it was best to let her have the whole experience. It was a tough decision because she had so many wonderful friends. We weren't counting on that when we rationalized that holding her back might be the likely outcome when we enrolled her. Regardless, she's doing so well. I'm so proud of her for being able to roll with all that has been thrown at her. She's just such an easy going, happy kid. I hope she stays that way!!
Kessler is going to Rainbow 2 days a week. We dropped him down from 5 days because it was just so expensive, $1800 a month!! He's going to a regular Kinder program as well called St. Mary's by everyone but Kessler--he calls it Saints Mary or the "blue gate school". He only goes there 2 days a week for just 3 hours a day. The council (government) offers these kinder programs. They are quite cheap, relatively speaking, and the kids will generally move up to primary school with some friends. It's just a block and a half away. He loves it; I'm not exactly sure why. But, as we walk up to the door he clinches his hands together and says, "I'm so excited!"
Makena and Kessler are both taking swim lessons. Makena LOVES to swim. Kessler does too, except when he's in class. Then it can go either way. Makena also just started taking piano lessons. This is offered at her school. She and one of her friends from class take the lessons together. She's really enjoying them so far!
Kessler is all about dinosaurs these days. Nothing I write here will give that sentence justice. A few weeks ago he was watching a Dinosaur documentary--clearly not aimed at 3 year olds. Later he retrieved his dinosaur encyclopedia (again, not targeted toward the toddler demographic)--and found one of the dinosaurs featured in the documentary. There are hundreds of dinosaurs in this book and honestly, they all look nearly the same--but he's able to distinguish between them. He remembers their names, no matter how many syllables. He'll go to a random page and tell me that that particular dinosaur is a carnivore. At first I assumed he was just guessing correctly--but when I asked him how he knew he explained that he had to be a carnivore because of his teeth and his talons then he explained to me that the dinosaur on the adjacent page was a herbivore because of his neck and lack of talons. I kind of felt like an idiot after that.
He's graduated from simply roaring to.. well.. roaring like a dinosaur--I can't even begin to spell it phonetically. Let's just say it's quite realistic--so much so that we have to tell him off all the time because he's scaring other kids. Incidentally, he's still quite the chic-magnet, despite this. He and Polina are going strong.
That's enough for now! I'll write more later!!
I've decided that's no excuse. You see, a few weeks ago we went to Tasmania for Mark's best friend's father's funeral. It was an amazing funeral, as odd as that sounds. They spoke a lot about Barry. They played several of his favorite songs, all country--which was quite appropriate for a funeral. One of the speakers was Mark's friend, Barry's son. Among other things, he talked about how his father always remembered everything. He recently found out that this was because he kept a journal and would frequently go back and reread what he had written. I only met Barry once, maybe twice. But from the stories Mark told about him (and the eulogies) he's not the kind of guy you'd peg for having a diary. It made me realize that if a hardcore guy like Barry cherished his memories so much to write them down and read them, then everyone should do it. Then I remembered that I had been doing that with my blog--and I also remembered the joy of going back and reading the stories, stories that would have otherwise been forgotten.
So, here I am.. setting aside my quirk to move forward with the help of Barry. Thanks, mate.
It's been almost 10 months since we landed in Melbourne. I can't believe it's been that long--yet, I also can't believe it hasn't been longer! Makena is back in Prep again. Since she started halfway through last year and just barely met the birthday cut off to start prep anyway, we decided it was best to let her have the whole experience. It was a tough decision because she had so many wonderful friends. We weren't counting on that when we rationalized that holding her back might be the likely outcome when we enrolled her. Regardless, she's doing so well. I'm so proud of her for being able to roll with all that has been thrown at her. She's just such an easy going, happy kid. I hope she stays that way!!
Kessler is going to Rainbow 2 days a week. We dropped him down from 5 days because it was just so expensive, $1800 a month!! He's going to a regular Kinder program as well called St. Mary's by everyone but Kessler--he calls it Saints Mary or the "blue gate school". He only goes there 2 days a week for just 3 hours a day. The council (government) offers these kinder programs. They are quite cheap, relatively speaking, and the kids will generally move up to primary school with some friends. It's just a block and a half away. He loves it; I'm not exactly sure why. But, as we walk up to the door he clinches his hands together and says, "I'm so excited!"
Makena and Kessler are both taking swim lessons. Makena LOVES to swim. Kessler does too, except when he's in class. Then it can go either way. Makena also just started taking piano lessons. This is offered at her school. She and one of her friends from class take the lessons together. She's really enjoying them so far!
Kessler is all about dinosaurs these days. Nothing I write here will give that sentence justice. A few weeks ago he was watching a Dinosaur documentary--clearly not aimed at 3 year olds. Later he retrieved his dinosaur encyclopedia (again, not targeted toward the toddler demographic)--and found one of the dinosaurs featured in the documentary. There are hundreds of dinosaurs in this book and honestly, they all look nearly the same--but he's able to distinguish between them. He remembers their names, no matter how many syllables. He'll go to a random page and tell me that that particular dinosaur is a carnivore. At first I assumed he was just guessing correctly--but when I asked him how he knew he explained that he had to be a carnivore because of his teeth and his talons then he explained to me that the dinosaur on the adjacent page was a herbivore because of his neck and lack of talons. I kind of felt like an idiot after that.
He's graduated from simply roaring to.. well.. roaring like a dinosaur--I can't even begin to spell it phonetically. Let's just say it's quite realistic--so much so that we have to tell him off all the time because he's scaring other kids. Incidentally, he's still quite the chic-magnet, despite this. He and Polina are going strong.
That's enough for now! I'll write more later!!
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