Tribute to a Brave Lady

One year ago today my aunt, my mum’s big sister died.  I had a lot to deal with at the time and pretty much shut down.  Now I feel it is something I can talk about a little and I want to tell the story of her difficult life and a little of my (extended) family history.

My mum was one of 9 children and grew up in a small country town, the same small town that I grew up in.  My aunt, mum’s oldest sister married and had 5 children, 3 girls and 2 boys and together they lived in their childhood home alongside her parents.  In my memory, their home was always busy and crazy.  With other family members (my family and mum’s twin sisters family) living in the same town, a mere 2 blocks away, their house was always filled with love and madness.  Nan would be sitting in her wheel chair by the pot bellied stove even when the stove wasn’t on in the middle of summer.  Mum and her sisters would sit around in the lounge talking with nan and each other.  We would be running around in the yard or in the paddock out back.

Every time one of the dozen or so cousins had a birthday it was off to Nan’s for cake.  It wasn’t a real birthday party but with so many kids around it always felt like a party.  We would all stand around the ginormous wooden table in the kitchen area singing happy birthday and eating cake.

I don’t remember much about my Pa, he died when I was only 4.  What I do remember was Pa driving to our house every day to deliver the mail.  I would wait anxiously by the rusty side gate every day, waiting for the mail, waiting to see Pa.  I also don’t remember much about my aunt’s husband.  He worked away from town weekdays and would return to town for the weekends.  He was a typical country bloke and spent much of his time at the local pub.  From what I understand, he was a good bloke who would be the first to help out a mate in need.  He was killed in a tragic accident, helping a friend who’s truck had broken down.

I can still remember sitting in class, in the middle classroom with Mr Ryan when my cousin was called out of the class.  I saw his older sisters also being taken from their classrooms.  I couldn’t work out why they got to go home early, it wasn’t fair.  The rest of the day was a blur but I remember everyone in shock and crying.  I remember sitting in the back seat of a broken down car with my cousins talking about the unfairness of it all.  We, the other cousins, weren’t allowed to go to the funeral so we all stood on the oval at school watching the funeral procession as it left the church that was on the hill directly behind the school  We made plans to all run away together, to escape the sadness.  That was more than 25 years ago.

After my uncle died, my aunt lived to help other people.  She nursed my nan, looked after her kids, struggled through life, kept herself busy and avoided the real world.  Tragedy hit yet again when my nan died.  I remember hearing that nan was dead as I arrived at a netball match in Shepp East.  Again the cousins all got together and wondered why we didn’t run away years ago, to avoid even more hurt and pain.  We were allowed to go to this funeral, it was the first funeral I had attended.  I don’t remember the service but I remember standing out at the cemetery, watching the coffin being lowered into the ground, wishing I weren’t there, being consoled by older women of the community telling us that it would be alright but how could it ever be alright?

My aunt continued to avoid the world, instead giving to her children to help them to succeed.  In what seems to be tradition for the family, her oldest daughter never moved out of the family home.  When my aunt’s children had children she was always first to baby sit, to drive them to and from events, always helping out.  When her oldest daughter fostered 3 children she opened her home and her heart to them.  The traditions continued, their house was always crazy and filled with love, although now it was also filled with sadness and loneliness.

A few years ago, when the youngest of my aunt’s children was to be married my aunt had a fall, a serious fall.  She broke her hip and her wrist and was unable to make it to the wedding.  This fall was the first time that she had been to the doctor since her husband died.  She was in hospital a long time and there were major health complications, including cancer.  After not having been to a doctor for more than 20 years, she spent much more time in a doctors office or a hospital.  She spent her last few months in intense pain but as usual surrounded by family; brothers, sisters, children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews.  She never once complained about the pain, or the suffering she had endured during her life, she was brave to the very end, until she said she had had enough.

I miss my aunt, I hate seeing her children, grandchildren and her siblings so heartbroken, she was a brave woman who had a difficult life.  Her struggles make me realise just how lucky I am.

Karma

Today was a day of meetings, the first beginning at 8.30am, 15 minutes before I drop the kids at school, a full 1/2 hour before I was due to start work.  I cheated and compromised by dropping the kids at school a few minutes early and then made it to the meeting only 15 minutes late.  Not too bad if I do say so myself, I arrived just as they were getting started as the morning coffee clearly takes precedent over getting a meeting started on time!  The meeting was an evaluation of a new program we are running and it has been really well received so the day was off to a great start.

I went from that meeting back to the office to see that I was now scheduled to go to another evaluation meeting for a major project.  I didn’t have a huge role in this project but I was happy to hear that my contributions throughout the year was well received.  All going well we will be re-funded in the new year and we can keep on working together and living happily ever after.

Just for something different, it was from this meeting to another.  This meeting was a little more relaxed than the first two, it was a planning meeting for upcoming events instead of more evaluations.  To reflect the relaxed feel of the meeting we met in a local park by a cafe rather than in an office.  It was a perfect opportunity to enjoy the sunshine!

Despite some minor angst, it was another successful meeting.  I was feeling great – three for three!  In fact I was feeling so good about the work that was achieved that I decided to stay at the cafe with colleagues to grab some lunch.

As we were waiting for our food to arrive we were sitting and chatting, enjoying the sunshine and cool breeze.  I noticed that there was a guy walking by staring intently at us and at me in particular.  Now the nicest way to describe this guy is as a bum.  He was wearing crusty, not washed in a billion years clothes and had a big bushy beard.  The colouring was all wrong, but his hair was reminiscent of Tom Hanks in Castaway.

Actually now that I have seen an image, the colouring was good but the hair was longer, straighter and more scraggly.  He didn’t exactly look dirty but very unkempt.   His stare was piercing.  I felt that I should know who he was.  He walked by slowly, circled the table at a distance of about 2 metres and then sat on a garden edging behind where I was sitting I could feel him staring.

My colleague pointed out that he was looking at us but she didn’t recognise who he was.    As discretely as I could I turned around to see him again.  All of a sudden, my mind was drawn back to college days, I knew exactly who he was and I didn’t know if I should feel angry or satisfied.

After so many years, I didn’t realise that someone could still have such an impact on me.  He was a person who caused me much pain and stress many years ago.  I  was very young and very naive when I first met him.  He was rude and arrogant, conceited and obnoxious but for some reason everyone seemed to like him.  He was charismatic, he was everywhere.  He was in the same group of friends as man-child.  We, him and I, weren’t friends but since our separate group of friends often stayed in the same house, the house of one of my class mates, we did spend a lot of time together.

Actually thinking back, he was kind of a bum then, always managing to scam food and drink from everyone else.  He was never around when food was ordered and paid for but managed to be there when it arrived and he would scoff it all.  He would always be sleeping on the couch or floor at one of my friends houses but never contributed to the living expenses despite regularly emptying their fridge.  Somehow he could talk or joke his way out of any situation.  Back then we had him pegged as being a politician or a cult leader based purely on his ability to charm without being charming.

When I began dating man-child I would see him a little more often but still we weren’t friends.  Then one night at a friends house his behaviour became completely inappropriate and I was feeling vulnerable and afraid.  I ended up walking home, a suburb away, in the wee hours of the morning because I didn’t want to be in the same house as him.  I began distancing myself.  I made sure we would never be alone together.  I no longer trusted him at all but I didn’t want to make a big deal about it.  Other than him and his crusty girlfriend, the group of friends that we spent our time with were pretty awesome.

Time passed and I instinctively avoided him.  There were always enough people around that it didn’t make too much of a difference.  Our paths didn’t cross all of the time and when they did there were always enough people around to dilute his influence on the space.  I even had parties at our house and invited him because it was just easier.

At one such party, everyone drank way too much.  It was really late and we were all wanting to go to sleep.  He lived in the same street but wouldn’t go home.  He was demanding more drink.  What happened next was a bit of a blur but I think it went something like this.  I asked him and his girlfriend to leave.  She turned around and slapped me.  I think I was so shocked that I didn’t really respond but perhaps I did.  Then he grabbed man-child and began scratching at his face with his disgusting long fingernails.  I have never in my life wanted to hit anyone more than I have wanted to hit him.  I am pretty sure that I didn’t hit him, I have a distinct memory of being disappointed.  I do know that he was dragged out of my lounge room and out of the house.

I ran to my room in tears.  He was out the front of the house yelling and cursing, wanting to come back in.  I have never felt so afraid in my entire life.  All the years of bottled up emotion came pouring out.  I spent the remainder of the night crying.  I was exhausted but I was also relieved, I would never have to see him again.

Many years has passed, more than 15 since I have last seen him.  Clearly much has happened since that time.  The group of friends all but ignored him, he lost his power and charisma.  We have all moved on and are all successful in our careers, all with families of our own.  The rest of us still see each other regularly but he pretty much fell off the planet and was barely heard of.

Clearly Karma is a vengeful bitch.  I feel like I am living ‘happily ever after’ and he doesn’t look to have much at all.  Is it bad that that makes me feel even better about where I am?

10 Years On

Who were those crazy kids getting married 10 years ago today?

Newlyweds

It has been a great 10 years riding the roller coaster of marriage.  I am glad to have shared the ride with you.

Love Del

Yesterday, a great day

Yesterday was awesome.  I only worked for half a day yesterday as I had much better things to do – I had a school concert to attend and friends to spend time with.

Yesterday was the big day, the day of the whole school performance.  Naturally being a ‘whole school performance’ both kids were involved.  I had organised to go to the evening performance and man-child was going to the afternoon performance before finding out that friends from Tokyo were in town and only free last night to catch up.  That was all the encouragement I required to take the afternoon off work to go to the matinee performance.  One of our Japanese friends didn’t want to miss out on seeing the kids, so he asked to come along to the performance also.

I have to admit that if I were in another country for only a few days, going to a primary school performance would be the last thing that I would want to do, especially if said performance was in a language that I barely understood yet there he was, grinning from ear to ear during the entire show.  Yoshi clapped more vigorously than any other person in the audience and he took more photos than the proudest parents in the room.  He had a fantastic time.

The show itself was great (for a school concert).  I have to admit that I didn’t see it all, it was so hot in the hall that I had a coughing fit and had to go outside to recover.  I did see both performances that my guys were in and no doubt I will end up buying a copy of the dvd to sit on the shelf, unwatched.  The important part is that I was there and I cheered along with the rest of the crowd, even taking happy snaps that are practically impossible to see.  Instead look at girl-child the puppy, boy-child wasn’t interested in sitting still for long enough to have a photo taken.

The Puppy (& narrator)

After the performance and the surprise of having Yoshi in the audience, we all went out to grab a coffee and wait for a second surprise, more visitors.  My parents had driven to Melbourne to surprise the kids.  I really wish I had my camera out when my parents and Lil Sis walked in to the cafe.  The look on boy-child’s face was beautiful.

The afternoon was fantastic.  I never realised until then that my mum and probably my dad also, has never actually met a Japanese person before.  It isn’t because they are racist but because the area in which they live, the area in which I grew up is very caucasian.  When I was a kid the extent of racial diversity in town was a lone filipino woman and her caucasian husband who lived in town for a few brief years.  When I went to larger secondary school there was a little more diversity, but not much.  It still amazes me that I now live in an community that has more ethnic diversity than the entire town and schools that I attended!  What was more amazing and also amusing was seeing Yoshi and my dad happily chatting away, again not because it was a shocking situation but because my dad is partially deaf and whilst Yoshi speaks English really well, dad struggles with accents!  Cultural diversity aside, it was a great afternoon.  The kids didn’t know who to spend their time with, their grand parents, Lil Sis or Yoshi so they spent their time running from one to another.

After we dropped the kids off at the venue for the second concert performance with my parents and sister, I headed out to dinner with my best friends and Yoshi, his beautiful wife and daughter.  It was a great evening, reminiscing about my trip to Japan, my friend’s times in Japan and more importantly planning new adventures with another trip to Japan next year.  My visit to Japan was sans kids.  I know that they would have had a fantastic time in Tokyo and are really looking forward to visiting there.

My favourite photo of the day, girl-child and Yoshi, hand in hand walking along the road together.

Great Friends

If only I had the camera out a second earlier when they were skipping along the road together.

Flashed Before My Eyes

In the early hours of the morning the closest I have ever come to having my life flash before my eyes occurred.   After spending an awesome night out celebrating 10 years (almost) since graduating I was getting a lift home with friends.  There were three of us squished into the ute, heading towards home.  The driver who hadn’t had a drink all night was driving safely through the city and suddenly there is a blaring of horns and a screech of brakes.  All of a sudden we were facing a different direction.  Luckily there was no sickening crunch of metal or breaking glass, only because our driver was a great defensive driver and was able to accelerate through the impending crash zone, as the taxi who had driven straight through the intersection continued on oblivious to the fact he almost caused a major accident.  I am so glad that our driver was such a safe responsible driver who whilst he was happy to hurl abuse at the taxi driver he wasn’t interested in doing anything other than getting us home safely.  It was a sobering moment.

Despite the adrenaline pumping drive home I had an awesome night out.  There were a dozen of the original 20 all catching up for a delicious dinner and far too many drinks.  Some of the guys I hadn’t seen in the 10 years since we graduated but quickly the banter resumed and it was as if we always went out for drinks together.  It made me realise that you don’t have to see someone everyday for them to be important to you.  I know that the guys I studied with with will always be a part of my life and hold a special place in my heart.  It was an intense time and I really can’t believe that it has been 10 years.

Me being tickled by great mates

In actual fact, this time 10 years ago we would have all been sitting in the common room cramming for final exams.  We were all stressed and fragile yet we were supporting and encouraging each other.  We were plying our bodies full of chocolate and caffeine in an attempt to stay up even later and cram a few more random facts into our brains just in case they were on the exams.  Then walking out of the exams hoping and praying that all of the study would be enough, that we would all pass.  Crossing our fingers that we actually answered all of the questions in the exam, that we didn’t miss any pages.  Then standing around waiting.  Waiting to see if we had passed our exam in order to move on to the next unit of study only to begin the entire process again.  Lectures, practical assessments, study, study and more study until we all passed our final exams.

I am so glad that that part of my life is over.  I am glad that I can look back at the amazing friendships that grew during the stressful times of study and that my memories of that time are of the people and not the work.  I hope that we can all get together again some time soon.  10 years is far too long to have to wait.

Goodbye July (pt 4) or Why I Hate July (pt 5)

What went wrong?

So we clearly arrived safe and sound and had a chance to explore our new home.  Man-child was to have the first week off work so that we could settle in as a family.  In reality, his week off work upon arrival was just like his week off work prior to departure – it didn’t happen, he had to work every day except the 4th.  He did only work part days, going to the must attend meetings and such but it did make it difficult to get organised.

That first week, when we had time together we confirmed the kids places at a daycare that we liked.  It was going to be a chance for the kids to meet other kids and make friends.  The daycare was at the local Y and had an awesome program that included swimming, cooking and story time in English, Spanish and French.  The program coordinators and teachers were delightful.  It all sounded too perfect, boy-child was going to be in the Koala class and I was sure that it was a sign.  We could have started them there the following day but since it was still summer holidays, we planned on waiting a few weeks before they would actually start, that way I wouldn’t be too lonely during the days!

We also used this time to check out our new apartment.  It was fantastic.  The apartment itself had 3 bedrooms and a huge loft/play space, a decent kitchen and 2 bathrooms.  It was on the third (top) floor in a complex that was full of kids and young families.  There were barbeques in the gardens, toys strewn around the play areas, swimming pools, basketball courts, a gym, playgrounds (multiple) and even an onsite playgroup.  All this and the the rent on the apartment was cheaper than the cottage.  It was situated near a mall, was not too far from man-child’s work and apparently was also in a great school district to boot.  All we were waiting on was the carpet to be relaid in the apartment and the company to co-sign the final papers for the fund transfers.

We managed to start stocking up on things we would need for the apartment.  We had new beds and bedding for the kids, we thought we would stock up on towels too – the towels in the cottage were beautiful, white and fluffy until we moved in.  I didn’t think that they would ever be white again if we kept using them!  There were delays in our boxes last few boxes arriving, read they hadn’t even been sent yet so we headed to a mega toyshop somewhere to stock up on a few extra kiddie essentials.  

We stocked the teeny tiny kitchen in the cottage with food that could easily be prepared to take with us exploring.  Mostly it was cereal and crackers as the kids didn’t like the local bread – apparently it tasted like cake.  Eventually we even found a market that had a great variety of fruit and vege to keep the kids happy.  

We even spent a fun filled afternoon in a local town (I have no idea where) sitting in a social security office, applying for social security numbers so that man-child could be paid.

Once all this was done and we were set up to really live life in our new community was when everything really started to go wrong.  Firstly they, the company decided that we should be paid in Australian Dollars.  They didn’t get that we actually needed to know what our income was going to be.  At the time the exchange rate was pretty ordinary and trending downward.  We weren’t going to be able to guarantee an income to cover our expenses.  The HR departments in both countries got the fact that we needed some security and were trying to sort it out for us.  Next was the fact that they decided to not co-sign our lease.  They had decided (they being the CEO and company owner) that it was more cost effective for the company if we stayed in the cottage as they already had a lease there.  Clearly they hadn’t ever been to the cottage, whenever they were in town they stayed at the Princeton Club!  Just to make things even more fun, the head cold/sinus mess that I woke to when we first arrived was now lodged squarely in his chest.  He had all the precursor signs of having pneumonia again so we needed to take him to a doctor.  At this stage we had no medical insurance confirmed so finding a doctor that would see him using our travel insurance as cover was challenging.  Now we had yet another important issue that needed resolution, urgently.

It was then that I decided that it was time for me to get involved.  I drafted an email to send to the CEO, outlining the issues that we had faced during the move.  It started off being a short email but ended up being many pages.  I detailed the difficulties of having my husband spend more time in another country than with us, the constant changes in expectations of the company in regards to how long we would be staying and the inexperience of the HR departments in relation to international relocations.  I continued to outline why we were unhappy with living in the cottage as a permanent home.  I mentioned that it was not suitable for small children, was filled with antiques and that the gaps in the floorboards allowed bugs of all sorts into the cottage – the kids were waking covered in bites from said bugs that were huge and crawling over them in their sleep.  I also reminded her of the kids ages, that one had a day time sleep and the other did not.  I couldn’t leave girl-child in the house asleep knowing that she could wake up and try to walk down the stairs to look for me.  I couldn’t let boy-child out to play whilst I waited with girl-child as there were no enclosed spaces.  Within 3 year old walking distance was a main road, a creek (that had flash flooded in the short time we had been there), a forest area and corn fields.  All amazing places to explore, but not as a 3 year old on his own.  

I offered to document my experiences of both moves with the company, firstly to New Zealand and then to New Jersey to show how each move occurred and the impact it had on a family, to comment on what worked in the move to New Zealand and what hadn’t worked so well in the move to New Jersey.  I figured that as a company that was wanting to expand into more countries in the world it would be beneficial to know the experiences of someone who had been involved in such moves.  I was really nervous about sending such a personal email to the CEO but I had to do something, I needed some certainty in our futures, I couldn’t just sit by as she played with our lives.

Now since we were living on a farm in the middle of nowhere that didn’t have real ceiling lights there was no way that there was any internet connection.  I had to write the email as a word document and have man-child take the document into his office to send on my behalf.

Life continued as I waited for a response.  I felt really isolated living in the middle of nowhere not knowing the area nor anyone who lived there.  Man-child was still expected at work each afternoon as a minimum so we spent the afternoons driving around the neighbourhood.  Whenever we came across a park we would stop and play.  When girl-child fell asleep we would drive around aimlessly, trying to find new things to do.  I had marked dozens of ‘must-do’ events and places to visit in the guide books we had purchased but of course the books were in the boxes that hadn’t arrived (or been sent).  I also had heaps of local sites bookmarked but of course with no internet we were flying blind.

We did find some fantastic places to play and explore but living in such an isolated place made it difficult to just bump into people to begin a conversation.  In fact in all of the parks we stumbled across, and there were dozens of different parks, there were very few little kids out playing.  It may have had something to do with the insane heat and humidity, almost 100 everyday and 80% + humidity or it may have been because everyone was enrolled in a summer camp.  Whatever the reason, it was isolating.  

Finally early in the following week I received a reply from the CEO.  To say it was the furtherest thing from the reply I was expecting would be an understatement.  Instead of an acknowledgment of any sort her response was along the lines of ‘if it was too hard for me, perhaps I should just move back to Melbourne with the kids’.  I mean WTF!   How from reality could this person possibly be?  I replied saying that it wasn’t that living in New Jersey was too difficult, it was the lack of stability that was difficult, that I hadn’t just given up my career for 2 years for no reason.  I wanted this experience in the US to be beneficial for everyone and that man-child, as any other father, would be more focused in the workplace if they knew that their family were being well cared for in a stable environment.  

It was around the time that it was confirmed that boy-child did have pneumonia and a minor heart murmur was discovered to boot.  To make matters worse, it was also around the same time that the owner and the CEO confirmed that they weren’t going to sign our lease on the apartment as our time in New Jersey was going to be assessed on a ‘month by month basis’.  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.  I hadn’t upended my entire life for someone to change there minds in a month or two and send us home.  Hearing this I decided that if our trip was going to be cut short it would be on our terms.  I didn’t want to settle the kids into a new life, in new school with new friends only to rip them out and move at short notice.  

They were the personal reasons that I wanted to throw in the towel and head back home.  Man-child had some reasons of his own.  These reasons went beyond not actually getting any time off to move and settle in but were more about leaving a position as a senior manager in Australia, managing clients Australia wide and in New Zealand and until we moved to the US, many states in the US autonomously, to not being able to respond to a meeting request without having to consult with a team of colleagues back in Australia.  The Australian contingent of the company also expected that when he had meetings interstate in the US that he should drive to them, regardless of the fact that said meeting was a 6 hour each way drive.  The same meetings that, when he was still living in Melbourne and commuting to the US for work he would automatically fly to.  Essentially they were being unreasonable.  

There it is, the reasons why it just wasn’t going to work.  I could have saved myself 1500 odd words and just written an in summary post like this.  The reasons to go back to Melbourne were as a result of the ‘company’ changing the rules as we went along, 

• leave requirements not being met
• country of origin of pay changing, meaning that our monthly pay would be unpredictable
• not being paid through the US arm of the company meant that we didn’t have health insurance other than our travel insurance.  That made things challenging, especially when boy-child ended up with pneumonia
• the house we were to live in changed from being a new and funky apartment in a great neighbourhood to a quaint cottage in the middle of farmland WITH NO INTERNET ACCESS
• the job description of man-child changed as it evolved and became a junior role and not a senior role being micromanaged with unrealistic expectations
• the length of stay had gone from 1 – 2 years to a month by month proposition
• many of our belongings hadn’t been shipped over to us – was that a sign that our things weren’t going to be required?

Now that I have written the post in point form, it sounds kind of lame.  I really wish that we had given it a go, that maybe if I hadn’t been so pigheaded it would have all worked out and we would have lived happily ever after.  Then I realise that if we had stayed and played by their rules it would have been an extremely difficult time where we were isolated and alone as man-child worked unreasonable hours with no stability, never knowing if we would be staying or going.  

We had to make a decision, one that would impact on our lives greatly.  Would we stay and try and make it work, or should we go home and try to start over.  Leaving New Jersey and returning to our old life would be difficult, everything had changed.  If we returned we would both be out of work.  Sure I could apply to return to work sooner than planned, but now we had no child care.  We had given up the nanny that worked for us and the list to get into child care in Melbourne ranged from merely months to years long.  I didn’t want to return to Melbourne and have to explain to the world that I just couldn’t fix everything and we had given up.  I felt like a failure.  I didn’t want to give in so easily.  Many tears were shed during the discussion and arguing over what we should do, but eventually we had to decide to be in control of our futures and not be putty in the hand of someone else.  

Once the decision was made, life was fantastic, we went on holiday.  We spent the remainder of the month having fun.  Next installment – the fun parts, my favourite places and great memories.

Goodbye July (pt 3) or Why I Hate July (pt 4)

Independence Day 2007.

After arriving ‘home’ during the early hours of the morning, we all slept until some time before mid-morning.  I awoke to a monster head cold sinus thing, no doubt from the lovely recirculated air on the plane, physical exhaustion and the fact that the last time I had slept it as in freezing cold Melbourne and now I was in 40 degree New Jersey.  The kids were up and about so there was no time to rest, it was time to explore.

We had been invited to a 4th celebration with a colleague on the Jersey Shore but weren’t sure if we should go, if in fact it was a genuine invitation or more a pity invite.  We weren’t sure of where to go and were all still pretty stuffed so we decided to have a look around the local area instead.  We spent the 4th doing things that I had only seen on TV, things that are similar to what is normal here but dare I say it, oh-so American.

There wasn’t much in the house to eat so first stop was somewhere easy to get food.  I think we ended up at an Applebees.  The kids were rapt – being given paper and crayons upon entering won them over entirely, well that and the giant cups of fizzy drink that unexpectedly came with their meals.  I was overwhelmed at the choice of salad dressings, that and the sheer size of the serves.  I am sure that one meal could have fed the entire family.  Unlike in Melbourne, the food we didn’t eat was automatically packed up for us to take home with us.  That meant that we had an afternoon snack all sorted.

Next stop was a giant shopping mall.  I knew that clothing prices were much better in the US than in Australia, but to be able to buy a complete outfit for both kids, including footwear for little more than $10 amazed me.  It made me wish that we left all of our clothes in Australia and were forced to buy all new clothes.  I could have spent all afternoon wandering the mall but the kids wanted to go out and explore and we still needed to stock up on some real food for the cupboards.  

The remainder of the day was spent exploring neighbourhood parks, playing with all of the toys that were left there yet wondering where all of the kids were.  We managed to find a supermarket and get some essential food to get us through that night and the next few days.

Eventually we headed back to our house to actually explore the place we would be calling home for the next few weeks, until our apartment was ready.

 

The majestic entry

If I hadn’t already seen our house, seeing the gates to the property would make a person think that they were about to arrive at a mansion.

The 'humble' abode!

Seeing how beautiful the main house was made me wonder who lived here.  Apparently no one actually lived here, it was used as a weekender only!

Our little cottage was less than majestic but very quaint.

Home Sweet Home

I have no idea why the image is appearing so small here – maybe it is to emphasise just how small the house really was.  That is our car parked out the front and it is actually longer than the house!  OK, admittedly it is a huge car but a huge car doesn’t actually equal a huge house.

The house was tiny.  Downstairs was literally an open area that fit a 4 person dining setting, a small couch and a tiny tv cabinet.  There was a tiny kitchen and two steep narrow staircases, each leading up to a bedroom and bathroom.  The bedrooms were connected by a small ’secret’ door so that we didn’t have to go downstairs and back up again to check on the kids.

A tiny kitchen in a tiny house

I took this photo pressed up against the wall in the kitchen, using no zoom.  There is no way that any one remotely overweight could fit into this kitchen!  I couldn’t imagine much cooking happening in this small space.  As well as there being no space, the facilities were also limited – there was a fridge, sink cooktop and a toaster oven and that was it!

 

Slippery stairs

These are the steepest and slipperiest stair I have ever had the pleasure of falling down.  Both staircases were narrow and well worn as you would expect in a building that is over 150 years old.  What made them more difficult to climb was the humidity.  It was so humid that condensation settled on the walls of the stairwell and on the stairs themselves.   Now having moved from a 3 level house both kids were adept at climbing up and down stairs however after falling down myself the kids weren’t allowed to use the stairs themselves unless we were with them, or I wanted to take another photo!

 

At the top of the stairs

The lounge and dining areas were both downstairs.  For some reason the photos make both spaces look larger than they were, there was absolutely no storage areas anywhere.

 

Fine dining

 

The dining room had antique furniture in it, not exactly the furniture I would use for a messy family.  To the right of the dining table was the front door and the other side of the door was the lounge.

 

The lounge

Now I don’t know if you have noticed the yellow floral wallpaper?  It really isn’t my style, but in this environment it worked.  What didn’t work was the extra chair that was in the lounge.

 

WTF?

Please, a red chair with dog print is wrong in any home!

Both bedrooms were upstairs.  The master bedroom looked like it belonged in a country retreat somewhere, perhaps a bed and breakfast somewhere in the Yarra Valley.  It was really quaint and quite beautiful.

The master suite

The little secret door led through to the second bedroom.  When we arrived the room was furnished with a double futon – not the most practical bedroom solution for two restless toddlers.  For the first few days I ended up sleeping between the kids on the futon, trying to get them to stay asleep without kicking each other awake.  Instead they kicked me awake repeatedly.  By the end of night three we had a boys room and a girls room.  My sleep was marginally better with only one child kicking me.  Knowing that the single sex bedroom concept was less than ideal, we went out an purchased junior beds for the kids and we all had a better nights sleep.

New kid-sized beds

Of course with junior beds comes junior bedding – so cute, the bedding and the kids sound asleep in their own beds.

And there you have it, our entire house.  Did you notice the abundance of lamps in the photos?  That would be because there were only 3 actual lights in the entire house – the kitchen and the bathrooms.  Every other room was lit by lamps, that meant that there were lamp cords everywhere, the perfect tripping opportunity for all!  The lamps and the antique furniture helped to make the cottage a kid-friendly environment – NOT!  Despite that, and the fact that it was tiny, for a few weeks it was a place that we could call home. 

The grounds to the main house were beautifully groomed.  There was an undercover walkway from our cottage to the main house where the kids could play out of the sun.  This space became home to a firetruck bed (sans bed) that we found in a carpark and decided it would make a great toy for the kids as we waited patiently for their toys to arrive.

 

the Fire Truck

Outside there were plenty of interesting places to explore;

 

The brook (that flooded) at the bottom of the garden

 

the long grass by the forest, full of creepy crawlies

 

the field where the deer used to feed

the manicured gardens of the main house

 

 

there were so many places to explore, even corn fields in the distance, on the other side of the brook

 

Scary Crow

 

We even had our own scare crow (it is no wonder they are called scare crows!)

So there you have it, you have seen the place that we called home for a month.  It was beautiful but it was in the middle of nowhere and not the best place to meet new people and make friends.  Going through all of these photos had made me realise that despite the madness of our time in the US, it was an enjoyable time overall.  

Stay tuned for the next installment – the ‘bits that went wrong!’

Goodbye July (pt 2) or Why I Hate July (pt 3)

So at the end of Goodbye July (pt 1) or Why I Hate July (pt 2) we were all packed and ready for our big move to the US of A.  Our flight was departing bright and early on July the 3rd, 2007.  We were all at the airport in plenty of time to check in all of our 3 bajillion suitcases and say goodbye.  

Now everyone that knows me knows that I refer to the point of no return for international flights as the crying doors, the place where even if I don’t know anyone departing I still feel all of the emotion of those around me bidding farewell to their loved ones and more often than not I end up crying.  Well this day was no different to any other day at the crying doors, but it wasn’t as sobbingly distressing as I had imagined it would be.  I guess I was so excited to be embarking on such a huge adventure that I was filled with nervous energy and excitement rather than overwhelming sadness.  Sure there were tears, but most of them were shed by people other than me for a change.  

Finally after saying goodbye to everyone it was time to head through the crying doors, go through immigration and begin the wait until it was time to begin.

Girl-child and skanky bear waiting to board

Finally it was time to board.  It was pleasing to know that we weren’t the only family on board.  What was disappointing to see was that because they had the smaller child, they were given the front row with the extra legroom.  Fortunately being in the second row we all had in-seat entertainment.  Boy-child was happy to flick through the channels until he was overcome with sleep.  Girl-child however was filled with energy and wanted to play, not with daddy (he could sleep) but with me.  

 

Talking to skanky bear as boy-child sleeps

We spent hours wandering up and down the aisle talking to whoever was awake.  She was in a great mood and was flirting with everyone.  It was quite dismaying to have many other passengers comment that they were glad that she was no longer crying and as the ever-so-proud and defensive mother I am, I had to remind them that the crying child was in fact still crying (from exhaustion) and the only noises girl-child had made were shrieks of enjoyment and singing.  We were lucky enough to know staff on board the plane so they kept the food coming and took us for wanders along the aircraft to try and break up the monotony of the flight.

Of course as soon as we landed 12 or was it 14 hours later? and loaded girl-child into the stroller she promptly fell asleep.  It made for a difficult transfer through LAX.  Going through security was more than a little challenging.  We had to unload girl-child from the stroller, fold it up and put through the xray machine, as well as removing batteries from the laptop, taking off shoes and emptying pockets.  I went through holding girl-child, fumbling with one hand trying to get the stroller set up to put her back in, man-child is still loading up the conveyor belt with the stuff from his pockets as boy-child is sent through the beeping doorway.  Of course it beeped and he freaked out, probably not from the beeping itself but most likely from the 2 security dudes that were at least 6 foot tall, yelling at him to step back through the gate.  Now as a 3 year old he had no idea what they were talking about, hell he probably couldn’t understand their accents to even know what they were saying.  I wanted to go back to help him and I was getting yelled at and man-child wasn’t allowed through to get him and bring him back through the gate.  It ended up with all of us yelling and finally man-child was allowed to go through the security gate to get boy-child, take him back through to remove his belt that had a tiny metal clip on it.  Eventually we all made it through security and had a few hours wait for our next flight.  

Sleeping at LAX

Fortunately girl-child slept through the entire debacle.  In fact she slept through LA entirely!  Naturally she woke in time to board the flight and find our seats.  

Our seating arrangements on this flight left much to be desired.  Now 2 adults traveling with 2 children you would assume would all be sitting together, particularly as our flights were booked early and we checked in early but unfortunately that would imply that someone was applying logic.  We were sitting with 2 seats together and the other seats were singles.  Now I have no idea how they thought that was going to work, which child was going to sit on their own, the 2 year old or the 18 month old?  Perhaps they were to sit together and we would sit on our own.  Needless to say we kicked up a stink.  The best they could do was get us 2 lots of 2 seats together, one pair in front of the other.

Not surprisingly, girl-child had had all the sleep she needed on the floor at LAX and she was ready for more play time with mama.  By the time the flight landed I was beyond exhausted.  I hadn’t closed my eyes for more than 5 minutes in more than 24 hours and we still had to collect our luggage, clear customs and find our car.  

Eventually with all of our belongings found – 5 suitcases, 2 carry on cases, a suit bag, laptop bag, baby backpack, stroller, kids carry on bags and nappy bags, we headed out to find our new car.

Will all of this fit into the car?

Luckily the car was huge, even then we only just fit all of our stuff into it.  

 

The ginormous Dodge, one of the cars that would be ours.

The drive from Newark to Princeton was a blur.  I remember we picked up some drive-thru to have as a midnight snack and that was about it.  When we finally made it to Princeton, man-child struggled to remember which way to go to get to our house.  I do remember missing a turnoff and shortly thereafter missing a deer that was standing on the middle of the road.  Luckily we missed the deer and found the turnoff and eventually found our new house in the dark, arriving at our new home in the early hours of the 4th of July.  I was too tired to do anything but tuck the kids into bed and fall into bed myself.  Exploring my new home would have to wait until I was awake enough to string together a coherent thought and perhaps hold my eyelids open.

 

Coming soon, our new home and more…

Goodbye July (pt 1) or Why I Hate July (pt 2)

I have been feeling BLEH for a while now.  My world is crazy busy and I haven’t had time, or made time, to chill out and relax or to recover from the icky headcold that has plagued me for weeks.  One of the benefits of the crazy busy is having July fly by without me having a chance to really have time to dwell, or perhaps I have allowed myself to be crazy busy in response to the fact that it is actually July.  Who knows? Anyway, July is almost over and I feel as if I have made it through unscathed.  Of course I am writing this on the evening of the 29th so there is still time, however I won’t publish until I have made it through the month.  

I have written before on here, this time last year about a few of the more painful reasons for why I hate July, other than the obvious cold weather.  Now it is time to finish off the Why I hate July saga with Part 2.  Last year I alluded to what was to come, I even mentioned it at the beginning of the month so now it is time to continue - the move from hell.  I imagine that this could become a long winded post, not only because it was an emotionally charged time of my life but because it was also extremely amazing in a craptastic kind of way.  To prepare you for what is to come (or so you can just skip to the end or the photos), I present you with bullet points

• man-child working between Australia and the USA to get ready for the move that was to take place in July
• the renovations needing renovating before the move
• the relocation from hell and why it went wrong
• the return to Australia feeling like I had given up, that I didn’t try and I had failed myself and my family

So here it is, Part 2 of Why I hate July.  This saga actually began sometime late in 2004 and not during the month of July.  To set the scene, boy-child was a very active and inquisitive almost 3 year old and girl-child had just turned 1.  I was back at work 3 days a week, juggling shift work and kid activities.  We had settled into our now not-so-new house and had just lived through renovating a house that didn’t need renovating.  Man-child had an awesome opportunity to work in the US and spent many months working 3 weeks in the US and 3 weeks here.  It was hard work single parenting.  I could manage the single part OK, it was the excitement during the weeks when we were all together that were hard, when routine and consistency were thrown out the window.  Trying to make the most of the crazy together times knowing that all to soon man-child would be flying out again, knowing that the kids didn’t understand why sometimes dad was here and sometimes he wasn’t.

As a family we decided that the commuting between countries wasn’t the lifestyle for us.  Instead of returning to work only in Australia, man-child was offered a permanent position working in the US.  It was his lifelong dream to work and be successful in the US and he had loved his time working there.  It seemed too good an opportunity to refuse and I was bored with work and in need of a change so we set about to try and make it happen.  He was still with the same company that had relocated us to New Zealand a few years previously so we knew it was a real opportunity.  We also knew that the company wasn’t going to hire a relocation consultant to assist with the move and the HR department didn’t have the experience to do it (other staff members who had been relocated and ended up with insane daily commutes because they weren’t aware of local conditions).  Being the control freak that I am, I was happy to do much of the research for the move.

Initially we offered to relocate for 3 months, using up all of the leave I had accrued but the powers that be thought hat 3 months would only be enough time to settle into the postion without actually getting anything done.  They wanted us there for a full year.  There was even talk of me working for the same company as I had previously worked for them and still knew their products.  

Things were starting to get serious – a full year in the US, awesome.  The next few months was all about getting organised for the move.  I would research online, finding neighbourhoods that sounded great, comparing school districts and child care, even looking at crime statistics in each area.  I would email my findings to man-child and he would check out the locations in real life.  I also began the process of arranging leave from work and doing the math on whether it was more cost effective to relocate our furniture or store it.  All of the math was based upon us being in the US for a year, until the ‘company’ decided that it was not worth doing if it was going to be less than 2 years, 3 would be even better.  I couldn’t fathom being away for 3 years, besides I may not have had a job to come back to after 3 years.  I could confirm my employment for a 2 year leave of absence so we negotiated and committed to a 2 year stay with the possibility of staying longer if it was working for everyone.  Still the whole idea of moving to the other side of the world was too good to be true.  

I re-did the math for the move and all of a sudden it was going to be more cost effective to ship all of our furniture rather than store an entire household (3 bedrooms and a study full).  Now up until recently we had crappy old furniture but post renovations we thought the new spaces deserved new, pretty and darn expensive furniture so just giving away all the furniture wasn’t an option.  We did the right thing and arranged for 3 independent quotes for shipping the furniture and with the backing of the HR department, we accepted a quote for shipping.  

Next thing we knew, the rules were changed.  The owner of the company, ever conscious of costs, offered to store our furniture for us, free of charge, in an unused yet clean and safe part of one of the buildings he owned.  Furthermore, he would allow us to purchase or hire the furniture we would require in our new apartment.  Fantastic – the shopping trip of a lifetime to fully furnish a place, all using someone else’s money.  We were able to cancel the shipping company without incurring costs, merely the embarrassment of being perceived as being incompetent.  

Next task on the to-do list, find renters for our house.  Despite saving money by not having to ship furniture, we couldn’t afford the mortgage here and living costs in the US.  We found friends of a friend who lived up the road who were looking to move and our place seemed perfect for them.  Just as we were about to draft up contracts, fortunately before they gave notice to their land lord, the ‘company’ had decided that they could rent our house to use for corporate short-stays and for when we would be in town.  It would be more affordable for them to pay our mortgage than it would for them to pay our accommodation costs when we were back in town.  

Of course by now, knowing that we weren’t going to ship our furniture and didn’t have to pay insane storage costs, we had given away or sold off all the furniture that we wouldn’t need in 2 years.  That included our bed (it was really old and in need of upgrading so we thought we would splurge when we returned) and all of the kids bedroom furniture.  Really, we would have no need for a cot and junior bed when the kids were going to be at least 3 and 5 when we were due to return.  In fact the only furniture we had not gotten rid of was the new furniture my beautiful leather lounge suit (that comes with a side story that is too long for this long post), teak TV cabinet and shelves and our new dining table and leather chairs.  Oh well, they could just fit out the bedrooms before they used the house, that wasn’t going to be a problem.  It also meant that we could leave all the whitegoods in place and leave the house stocked with crockery, cutlery and non perishable food items, as in the other company short-stay residences we had stayed in.  

We seemed all set for the move.  Visas granted, tickets purchased and accommodation sorted.  The apartment we were to move in to was to be re-carpeted and wouldn’t be available for 3 weeks after we arrived.  We didn’t mind, we could camp anywhere for 3 weeks.  We had visions of dodgy motels alongside a highway but it turned out that another couple who had been living in the area were moving back to Melbourne and the property they had been living in was available.  Man-child had stayed there, with them on previous visits and agreed that it would be better than staying in cramped motel lodgings so it was all sorted.  

Of course this all sounds far to simple and easy right.  Well during this time, when man-child was still doing the three week commute thing, I found that there was a leak in a downstairs pipe.  Now the water had flowed underneath the almost brand new solid wooden floor that had been laid as a part of the unnecessary renovation.  The entire floor was ruined, as were 2 walls.  The floors needed to be ripped out and that meant removing the still shiny new kitchen.  Thank god insurance covered the damage bill, but it was challenging.  I had to fight with them so they would understand that we couldn’t live in a house with no kitchen or floors with 2 young children.  Eventually they seemed to understand my dilemma and found local accommodation for us.  We had to move out for 2 weeks to allow for the kitchen to be removed, the floors removed and the sub-floor dried before a new floor being laid and the kitchen being put back together.  Living in a small third floor apartment with no elevators and 2 kids was challenging to say the least, especially as I was single parenting for most of that time.  Naturally we were supposed to be packing and getting organised for the move during these weeks but we couldn’t actually access our house!

So now the house is back together, we have packed.  We managed to get rid of copious amounts of toys and clothes, even books but we still packed up boxes and boxes of essential items to be shipped to the US to be there when we arrived.  The first shipments that went were off-season clothes, the following shipment was to be essential toys and all the books we had purchased about our new home.  Books about Princeton, about bike rides and holidays in New Jersey, about must see attractions in New York as well as books about kids activities in the Princeton area.  We were taking essential toys and kids books with us on the flight, as well as all the clothes that we were still wearing here, going from mid winter, as well as some clothes for summer in case our boxes never arrived.  We were fully loaded with the maximum we were allowed to take.  Hooray for the huge luggage limits when flying to the US – we were each allowed 2 suitcases plus carry on, a stroller, a baby backpack and a laptop.

Farewell parties were held, goodbyes were said.  Plans for friends to come and visit were made and we were all set to go, to embark on the biggest journey of our lives.  It was exciting, scary and homesick sad all in one go, but mainly exciting.

The day of departure finally arrived, the 3rd of July 2005 and with it my hatred of July was to be re-kindled.  Already this post is way too long before I even hit the good parts, I will continue in a new post shortly, one that has pretty pictures to accompany the many words!

Pick Ups

A quiet evening at home after a longish day at work and it was finally time to catch up on the blogs that for some reason don’t stick in my reader, despite adding them over and over and over again.  It bugs me that they won’t stay in my reader as there is always something great to read.

After reading about the Kay’s favourite pick-up lines over at her blog and then her suggestion that people leave their favourite pick-up lines in the comment section, it got me thinking about the best pickup line I have ever experienced.  It was too long to mention in a comment section so here I am writing a post about it instead.  

Now I need to set the scene.  I was 17 or almost 18 and had just moved to Melbourne to study.  I was boarding with a family who lived near the college I was attending.  Now the head of the family was a single mother who was dating a man who lived in the country.  He coached and played in the local football team in the town where he lived.  She went to every game to watch him play and often I would go along for the drive and to spend a relaxing afternoon in the country.

Now the day of the fantastic pickup line was one of those days.  The football team were playing at a different ground, a ground that was in the middle of a state forest, surrounded by majestic trees and deliciously fresh aromas of the Aussie bush.  Needless to say the  footy match was uninteresting but area was beautiful.  I was perched on the bonnet of the car with a book in hand enjoying the autumn sunshine, oblivious to the world.  

All of a sudden there was another body leaning up against the car.  I glanced up and saw someone I had never seen before looking at me.  He started talking to me, just general small talk about the weather, nothing exciting.  We chatted for a minute or so with the conversation going something like this…

Him, “Gee isn’t this a very picture-skew area?”

Me, thinking briefly, wondering if I had been wrong in my understanding of language for all of these years eventually asked, “Isn’t it picturesque?” 

Him, “mumble, grumble, gah” before wandering off hanging his head, never to be seen again.

Now whenever I am in a particularly beautiful location I have the urge to comment on how ‘picture-skew’ the location is.