narrating kayoz

Eliane loves to play with shells. She can anthropomorphise anything, so many of our shells are named. 

There is one shell (which she’s named Spiral), which was given to me when I was 12, by a secret supporter. 

I was on a church youth camp (I went via the ISCF (Inter School Christian Fellowship) group at school, since I wasn’t yet a church goer at that point), and we had a thing (game?) called Angels and Mortals. Everyone had an angel and everyone was an angel for someone else, but the idea was to keep who you were an angel to absolutely secret. 

I have played similar games in other camps later in highschool, but I’m not sure it was ever so effectively kept secret as it was on this one. 

Anyway, my angel left this shell on my pillow one day over that weekend camp. Possibly with a little note, I don’t remember. 

I have kept it ever since. 

I ask myself why. I mean, sentimental value, obviously. But I have no idea who the person was who gave it to me. I know whoever it was left a few other little offerings, including, I think, a card at the end. I don’t remember what the card said, but I presume it wished me well. 

What’s more, I don’t actually remember anyone from that camp, except the teacher from my school who ran the ISCF, and I *think* there was another teacher from my school who attended too, although I can’t remember his name or face. 

But somehow, the memory of some unknown person taking such care of me, watching over me and trying to make me feel special, is still special today. 

Jenni Overend Died

I read today that Jenni Overend died last year. The link includes one of her final poems. She was the author of Hello Baby, which was a favourite of Mikaela's when I was pregnant with Eliane. It is a wonderful book.

As well as a "celebrated children's author" she was a mother, a wife, a grandmother, and she was only 55. I know this happens all the time, but this story made me particularly sad, maybe because of her poem.

RIP Jenni Overend. I hope you are.

 

Looking for a new house, without much enthusiasm

Because of my father-in-law's recent ill health, we have been trawling through allhomes.com looking for a new house. Unfortunately, anything remotely suitable is way out of our price range. What I basically want is a house that a) has a granny flat and b) is not dramatically worse than what we have now. Which doesn't seem to be available for anything less than about $200,000 more than our house is worth, and that's not taking into consideration taxes or moving costs.

So since we can't have that, I figure I might as well fantasise about what I really want. This is the basic criteria for my ideal home:

1. No further from Liam's school than we are now, ideally in walking distance.
2. Has an ensuite
3. Has four bedrooms.
4. Has a study (what the hell, this is a fantasy).
5. Has a Rolfing studio (this could double as a study if necessary, as it does now, but oh how lovely it would be to have a "room of one's own"), which needs to have it's own toilet or the facility for us to add one.
6. (And this is key) Has a granny flat, with internal access, no stairs, and a bathroom which could be used by someone with a walking frame. This is not essential at the moment, but it seems like it would be insane to move somewhere with a granny flat which is not going to be suitable for a granny in the long term.
7. Ideally has a northern aspect, good insulation, shade and or/evaporative cooling, ducted gas heating, gas hot water, updated kitchen and bathrooms, tank water... etc. These are the things our house has now, minus the northern aspect and updated ensuite (and our tank water is minimal and not plumbed into the house, but it does the garden well enough). Oh, and it would be lovely to keep a view. We are very spoilt with a gorgeous view of the mountains from our living areas and deck where we live now.

We found a few houses with something like these criteria. One even that was almost in our price range (combining the value of our house with half the value of my FIL's house). But it had only three bedrooms, no space that could be utilised for rolfing (so we lose income), was about three times the distance from school to where we are now, and consequently would also probably add about 1/2 hour each way on the (bus) commute to work, and it had none of point 7, as far as we can tell, though the kitchen looked okay. Also the living space is less than we have now and the fence would need to be replaced to keep Lochie in. The granny flat doesn't have internal access, but is on the same level as the house and appears to have no stairs. There was no photo of the bathroom. In other words there is no upside from the point of view of our family, several downsides, but it did have a granny flat.

Then there was quite a nice one only a couple of suburbs further south than we are now - which would be fine - with four bedrooms, which would be lovely, what with the planned extension to our family sometime next year. (The one above was the only one we found with a granny flat and less than four bedrooms.) It also had a great kitchen (in black and white, not my preference, but a great gas cooktop and lots of bench and cupboard space) and ducted gas heating, and even a view from the main bedroom. Also a double metal garage which could be converted into a rolfing studio if there was any money left over. The flat was under the house though, and had stairs down into it from the outside entrance. And then of course there was the fact that even with the full value of our house and FIL's house, we still wouldn't cover taxes and moving costs (let alone converting a garage).

And there's the fact that if we use the full value of FIL's house then brother-in-law is completely disinherited, which seems like it could cause some life long friction, even if FIL was willing to do it (which I don't think he would be). Unless we were prepared to sell up and move when FIL dies, which frankly, I'm not. I hate moving, I want to be settled somewhere where we can plant our fruit trees and expect to still be there by the time they bare fruit. I'm already mourning the potential loss of this house, with all the work we've done on the garden, including the apple tree we planted over Liam's placenta (still haven't gotten around to doing anything with Kaely's and maybe we should hold off). Also, what if we then have another aging parent who needs to move in with us? Three out of four of our parents, plus the one step parent, live in Canberra, and we are the only offspring from either family who does likewise. We're the bunnies on the spot, in other words.

Anyway, it's all very complicated. Is it unreasonable of me to not want to have to significantly reduce our standard of living in order to accommodate him, and particularly in order to preserve BIL's inheritance (which FIL may well fritter away once it's not tied up in his house anyway, after all it is his money)? I feel resentful about that possibility, and yet I can also see how BIL may feel resentful - I mean, imagine this scenario: we use all of his Dad's money to buy ourselves a new place, one with (say) an extra bedroom over what we have now, plus a granny flat. In short, increasing our asset base by about $200,000, while he gets nothing. Then FIL ups and dies the week we all move in. It could happen, quite easily. He might go on for another ten years (though I think it's unlikely), but he might also drop dead tomorrow.

Sigh.

 

Summer

It's a traditional summer afternoon:
Thirty degrees outside (Celsius)
Liam has fallen asleep watching, of all things, golf on the TV (having begged to be allowed to watch it)
The cat is also sound asleep
And the husband and toddler are AWOL.
Delightful.

Home alone

Well, not alone, as such. Liam and Mikaela are just down the hall. But Chris is in Sydney, so out here in the living room it's just me and the cat. And the chocolate and glass of kalua of course.

I was planning to get Mikaela to have a late-ish nap this afternoon so that she'd have a relatively late night (say 8:00), because she generally sleeps more soundly when she goes to bed late. If she goes to bed early (before about 7:15) she is more likely to wake up early and often. But in the tradition of the best laid plans, none of that happened. Instead of sleeping for her usually 2-3 hours in the cot this afternoon, she developed a fever and slept for an hour and a half, in my arms, and over two separate periods. By 7pm she was desperately tired, and by 7:15 she was asleep in her cot. But by 7:45 she was awake again... however, she's down now (8:22) and hopefully she'll stay there for a while.

It's weird being at home without Chris at night. This is only the second time he's been away since Mikaela was born. And in truth, he rarely goes away over night at any time. For some reason I see it as an opportunity to drink kalua, eat chocolate and play on the laptop – or watch TV. Why I would not do those things when Chris is here I don't know (actually I do do them, but not often). I suppose mostly evenings are for a combination of housework and just chatting (that's when they're not for studying). But of course most often the nights go the same way whether Chris is here or not – spend half the night getting the kids to bed (and back to bed) and the other half getting ready for bed myself.

Thirty-five

This is my birthday week, and I'm turning 35.

People don't seem to take this seriously as an Important Milestone. They think a number has to end in 0 to count. Even my mother-in-law, who just turned 75, says a '5' year doesn't count (then again, maybe you don't want to celebrate milestones at that age). But to me it does count.

It's partly that 35 is the beginning of the steep decline of fertility for women. We still don't know whether or not we'll be trying for another child, but if we do the fact that we took nearly 18 months to conceive Mikaela will definitely play into our decisions around timing.

So far I have to say I really like the four-year age gap and wouldn't mind going that way again. But since that would put me at 38+ as a best case scenario, and Chris over forty, we'd probably start trying before that. Especially since my mother's menopause started before she hit forty and my sister (only two years my senior) is about to start IVF. Not a terribly good family history for planning a quick conception in one's late thirties.

But it's more than just the fertility connection. It's also that 35 is half way to three score years and ten. Half way! And it's also that when Chris turned 35 Liam had just been born and I was already in the middle of a mortality-feeling crisis (mine and especially my parents'), so him turning 35 seemed like a big deal to me. I do know that the average life-span is longer than seventy years these days, but thinking about how old my parents would be at crucial milestones in Liam's life was I think the first time their mortality was really brought home to me. And I guess my unconscious tied all those feelings in with Chris turning 35, than added the issue of declining fertility in on top of that when we had trouble concieving Mikaela.

All this, I realise, seems pretty negative, so you might think that I wouldn't want to celebrate this milestone, but you'd be wrong. Because celebrating birthdays is first and foremost about celebrating life. Celebrating the fact that you were born at all. And I am very happy to have been born, and to have lived the 35 years I've had so far. And of course I'm also lucky, because whether or not we decide to try for another child in a year or (more likely) two, we have Liam and Mikaela, and I haven't even turned 35 yet.

So yeah, I'm celebrating this milestone. Even though there is a part of me that is feeling my fertility take a nose dive this week, I am affirming life at the same time. Hell, maybe I'll even have a party.

The modified study dream

I have the usual study/exam dream often enough: the end of semester approaches and I suddenly realise that after not going to maths classes all semester it's really too late to catch up. Or (more often these days) that having not read a single set text all semester... ditto.

But this was different. Last night's dream had two components. A story and an essay, both due shortly.

I dreamed that I had a story due at the end of the week. It was Tuesday now. But, while I was out my mother had opened the computer file of my story to do some editing for me (something she would never ever do I might add)(and yes, I was still living at 'home' in this dream). Unfortunately she had accidentally deleted all but the first page and a half and then saved it - over the top of the old file (also something she is too canny for).

Usually this would be a cause for panic, and it was. But the panic only lasted moment, because of course I had a printout of my latest version, and I save every version (not actually true, but I do tend to save new drafts regularly), so all I really had to do was to go back to the last saved version, mark up the differences with my current version and then type it up. Maybe an hour or two of work.

Then my step-dad pointed out that my calendar said I also had an essay due on Friday. More panic - it was for a lit class that I hadn't done any reading for all semester, and the essay had to demonstrate close reading of several texts (of course).

But once again, panic was averted. First, he was misreading my calendar - it wasn't due till Monday - and second, when I looked at the really long reading list, I'd actually read several of the novels on there already. Not recently maybe, but recently enough that I could do some re-reading and manage to write the essay in time. Especially since I realised at the same time that my story was virtually finished (once I retyped the changes) - I could hand it in if need be with just a little more tweaking.

Now, all this does sound a lot like the last minute sort of work I did in my undergrad degree - I like to take weeks to write an essay these days (of course, I am working part time and parenting these days, and am completely unable to pull all-nighters, so I kind of have to take weeks), so my subconscious is a little out of date - but still it's an improvement on 'absolutely impossible to catch up', don't you think?

Today is Easter Monday (ie, for non-Australian readers, a public holiday), so this week I am taking today as my study day instead of yesterday. Writing this dream was my warm up time. Now it's on to the story... (not due this Friday, thank goodness).

More on families

I just came across this draft post from last June - not sure why I didn't post it, but I'm thinking maybe it was just an oversight. So here it is...

I’ve been thinking about this conversation that went on a while ago at Personal Political about only children. Susoz has an ‘only child’ and although it wasn’t by choice she seems fairly content. For herself she says that now, as an adult, she is closer to friends than siblings, and those friends are more a part of her child’s life than her siblings will ever be.

Wanting more children for me is definitely partially about providing Liam with siblings. Since I’ve become an adult I have felt more and more the importance of family, or maintaining contact with siblings and cousins and aunts and uncles (as well as parents and grandparents of course). I’m not totally sure what drives this need. If I were in a crisis situation, aside from my mother, I would most likely turn to a couple of friends here in Canberra.. Of course depending on the level of crisis it might be possible for my sister to take time off work and come to Canberra, but it would have to be something pretty awful for that to happen. If it was just the need for some ad hoc child care, maybe some dinners or other simple help, than it would be friends (and my mum) who would be most likely to help. I have several cousins in Canberra, and I do try to keep in touch with them, but they would certainly not be my first or even second point of call if I were in need. Still, if I did call on them I am sure they would help.

I think part of the thing with the whole ‘blood is thicker than water’ idea is not that family will necessarily be more supportive or available than friends, but more that they will always be family. Friends come and go – some friends you keep in touch with no matter what, no matter how far away they live (and email sure helps with that), but many friend eventually become past friends – people with whom you once shared something, but who you haven’t spoken to now in ten or twenty years and do not have a current address for. Family move about but they are part of a larger network – if a cousin doesn’t happen to send you their forwarding address you can always ask their parent or sibling or child where they are - or you'll be told without asking, or catch up with them anyway at family functions.

I would guess that for people who grow up and stay in country towns this might be more true of friends also – they are all connected by a network that keeps them in touch. Where as those communities in cities tend to disperse as people move on to different cities, jobs, countries.

Keeping strong family ties has become even more important to me since Liam was born – I want him to have a solid place in the world, a real sense of his place in an extended family. But realising that my relationships with my cousins – while important – are not the ones that give me a strong sense of security and support, I also want him to have siblings. I mean, I’d love for him to have cousins of his generation (at the moment his only first cousins are my generation, but he does have one aunt working on it), but lets face it, they are not going to live in Canberra.

On the other hand, it occurred to me this morning that perhaps the most important thing I can do for him, in terms of providing him with a support structure for his adult years, especially when (hopefully in the far distant future) both his parents are dead, is to teach him to form strong and lasting friendships. Now if only I knew how to do that, we’d be ‘right.
(orginally drafted 27 June 2005)
(Edited to add this disclaimer: Maybe the reason I didn't post it was that I meant to go back and make sure I wasn't miserpresenting Susoz. I haven't done that (at least not today) so you'd better go read her post yourself to be sure.)

Ahhh that sea breeze

Today is a fabulous day. It's forecast to be another balmy 27 degrees C., but at the moment it's cool outside so we have the fan on bringing the cool air in, which feels a lot like a sea breeze.

Liam and I have decided to have a comfy cozy day at home today - our first in ages - because we don't have any other children to look after (because they're sick, and Liam and I have both had a touch of gastro) and (because of the gastro) we're not going to playgroup.

Liam now wants me to go look for his rackets that go with a shuttlecock he just found in a box, so I'll have to go parent now. But just wanted to record what a fabulous, summery holiday day it is.

(Also I was nauseous this morning, but feel okay now, which is like the best of both worlds - by next week I'll probably be feeling nauseous all day and cursing it, but for the moment it's just enough to give me confidence without blighting my existence!)

Wise words

Tamar says:

A little life lesson: Be flexible. It's pretty much the only way you can handle the rollercoaster without falling off or at least ending up with a bad case of whiplash.

I'm usually pretty good at remembering this, but I think maybe I haven't been so great this past year. Maybe because the challenges I've faced have been really close to home - things that impact on my child (work/childcare issues) and of course there's the whole wanting a second baby thing.

Still, it is a good lesson to remember.

Apparently, most people would consider me to be a grown-up

I had a bit of a shock last night. I was watching an episode of Ed that Chris taped a couple of weeks ago. For those who haven't watched it, the main character, Ed, is a lawyer. His friends are teachers, a doctor, parents of small children, fellow lawyers... you get the idea.

Here's the shocking part. I suddenly realised that these people - they're younger than me! Not much younger maybe, maybe even the same age, but quite clearly not older. And they are very clearly grown-ups. Yep, no question about it. Adults, everyone of them. Oh well, except for the 18 year old school kids.

Now, I know. I have a child, a mortgage, a real job. In fact I've already had a few different real jobs. And two different mortgaged houses. And I'm actively trying to have another child. But a grown-up, really? Wow. I had no idea.

Conversion

My best friend is in the process of converting to Judaism. Earlier this week I spent an hour her, (she lives on the other side of the world, in California), and one of our topics of conversation was God and conversion.  It's something she's been thinking about for a number of years - probably a decade or more.  And I was interested to talk to her about how her idea of god meshed with her conversion.

When we first met, almost a decade and a half ago, we were both in uni studying theology - although not as our major subject - and both identified as Christian (Catholic in her case).  Both had converted about five years earlier, as teenagers. Both of us found ourselves drawn more to the Old Testament - the Hebrew Scriptures - than the New. 

A few years later - I can't remember the exact timing for either one of us - neither of us were very sure anymore about the nature of god.  A few years on again and neither of us was sure there even was a god.  But, all the same, we both still felt that spirituality, for lack of a better word, was important to us.  We both still cared, but were more agnostic really than anything else.

Coming back to the present, we both have some sense of god, although in neither case is it entirely clear or by any means certain.  I don't think we both have the same idea of god, but there's enough similarity - and enough doubt - to have somewhat useful conversations about it.

But the interesting thing is: she's converting. 

I'd love to be converting. To something. To anything. I just can't imagine doing it really.

Every now and then I find myself singing some old church song and remembering a time when I could mean it. I'd love to have that back. To be part of something.  Part of a community. To sing in worship is an amazing thing. But if you don't mean it, it doesn't really have the same ring to it anymore.

I've also been drawn - at least slightly - to Judaism.  In someways I think my idea of god is perhaps closer to a Buddhist idea than a judeo-christian one these days. But somehow Buddhism is too far outside of my culture and experience to really resonate for me.  I think the appeal of Judaism is partly the ritual, which I would love to have more of in my life and in Liam's. And partly in that it is not Christianity - and having been something of a charismatic christian in my teenage years I just don't think I can ever really go back there - but that it is a part of my background.  I studied the Hebrew Scriptures - the Torah, the Wisdom literature - at uni.  Admittedly from a Christian perspective, but with a wonderful lecturer. And my culture is, to a great extent, based on judeo-christian thought.

I remember reading an interview with the Dalai Lama once, in which he said something to the effect that while he appreciated the number of Americans who had converted to Tibetan Buddhism, he wondered that they couldn't find what they were looking for in their own culture. That made a lot of sense to me.  It wouldn't have, back when I was a good Christian who believed that if you weren't a christian you were on the road to hell; when I saw the world more in black and white, and didn't see how someone who hadn't professed Christ as their Lord and Saviour, who in fact was leaning towards Hinduism, could possibly think they believed basically the same things I did.

But now it makes perfect sense.

Still, from the place I am at now, I just can't see myself being comfortable being part of any organised religion again. I have no philosophical problem with organised religion. It's just the sense of not being honest that bothers me. Of just not really having a strong enough belief in anything. But, I'm really happy for my friend.  She has found a place where she fits again, after ten or so years of searching. I am very happy for her.

George W. Bush and the illusions of adolescence

In Making Light yesterday Teresa refers to Anna Vargo’s definition of adolescence as "the stage where you think your actions have only the consequences you intend."

I like that. It seems so true, and not only that, but getting beyond that assumption is an important marker of maturity. Not that I don't still suffer from it on occasion, I'm sure I do. But being able, and willing, to reflect and realise that unintended consequences might occur (or have occurred) and as a result change, is something I hope I am able to do, at least most of the time.

Of course, Teresa was reminded of this idea in a long discussion of GWB and his faith in instinct (in his instinct anyway). he is so sure that he is right that he doesn't need to worry about unintended consequences. But as Kerry pointed out "you can be certain and be wrong."

Teresa's essay refers to the comments of both republicans and democrats and is quite thought provoking. Oh, and the Pointy Haired Boss, too. Well worth a read.