Public transport activist

I was waiting at the bus stop a few weeks back when an older gentle man approached the stop to look at the bus schedule.  Actually 'gentleman' might not be the right term, as he looked rather rough and ready but had a kind smile.  I smiled back and told him the next bus should be there any minute as it hadn't come yet but was due to arrive a couple of minutes ago.  

Somehow, we got chatting.  He was gruff, but a nice fellow.  It was plain to see he had seen his share of tough times, some self inflicted and some not, but I found him endearing. 

After mentioning he had six daughters who he didn't hear from very much, and that those daughters had three different mothers but that he was single after all that, he left me with one piece of advice. 

He stated very matter-of-faculty;

"Trust me, do not get married."

I chuckled a little and said his advice has come a bit late. He nodded knowingly and said;

"Ahhh, a newlywed huh?"

I smiled and informed him we have been married ten years now and have two beautiful sons. He commented on my age and then told me that ten years is something he never managed. He then asked me what was our secret. 

I found that weirdly uncomfortable.  Being asked by someone so much older than me for marriage advice.  I actually don't know what I said at all.  But I have found myself thinking about this exchange since.  

I am incredibly happily married, and I am more aware than ever that that is a rare thing.  Our relationship is very real.  We have our 'off' days, and our days when one of us is doing a lot more than the other because the other hasn't got much to give that day. 

 We fight.  Not crazy screaming matches, but we certainly don't always see eye to eye, and that's ok.  I can recall about six weeks ago we argued over math.  Like actual math, which neither of us are particularly good at.  It's funny to me now because it's so ridiculous, but I also know it wasn't about  math really, it was about one of us not feeling listened to and the other not feeling understood.  And that is why it's ok that we fight sometimes, because we are able to sort things through and get to the bottom of it without it being scarring.  In fact, we seem to end up stronger somehow.

My main 'secret' is that Anthony is my best friend in every way possible.  He is my favourite person to spend time with and he truly loves me, the me who is daggy and in my pj's at three in the afternoon.  He loves the real me. How can you not be happy with that! 

I feel as though I have marriage the way it was intended to be - a joy, a support, a challenge a very small percent of the time, and a safe place to grow.  Perhaps that's why my bus buddy couldn't give his recommendation to matrimony, he hasn't yet found what I feel so lucky to have.

My name is Earl

Anthony and I went through a phase where we loved the show "My Name is Earl".  We watched every episode.  For those who aren't overly familiar with the show, Earl is a low-life who through a weird set of occurrences adopts the belief that if he does good things, good things will happen, but if he does bad things, bad things will happen to him.  His belief in Karma leads him to making a list of all the bad things he has done in his life and he sets out trying to make up for all of them. 

Earl and I share a couple of things in common. Firstly, karma has come back to bite him in the bum.  My previous blog post demonstrates how karma has taken care of me recently also.  Secondly, Earl cannot for the life of him take a photo with his eyes open.  Throughout the series, he tries, but it never happens. 

Over the past few years, I have realised I have the exact same problem!  Upon becoming aware of my inability to keep my eyes open at the right moment, despite everyone around me in the photo being able to do it, I have since earned the nick-name Earl when referring to photographs of me.  

I have had a quick look to provide evidence of this problem, and as you will see, this has been an issue since birth for me.

(This may look like a typical baby-sleeping-photo, but there is a good chance I was actually wide awake and the curse had already begun manifesting itself already)

(My baptism - not being particularly reverent or anything, just bad timing.  Note the rest of the people in the photo with me all seem to have their eyes open)

          EARL GOES ON HOLIDAY

            EARL GETS MARRIED

        EARL GOES TO WEDDINGS

   EARL TAKES A GROUP SHOT

And these are just the few I have close by. But it seems I have passed on the curse to my children too.  

I'm just trying to be a better person. My name is Earl. 

Rats, ladders, and karma....oh my!

We have pet rats.  I know some people are repulsed by the little critters, but they are great little starter pets. I had pet rats growing up and they are very social and intelligent.  We got two boys and Tony named his Corey, and Carter named his Ambrose. You can train pet rats to do tricks, although so far we have only worked on coming when their name is called.  This trick has come in handy lately, but more on that later.

You know how sometimes seeing someone trip over is funny....you feel bad and concerned for them, but it's funny at the same time? Well YouTube has made laughing at others misfortune much easier and makes me look less like a jerk as it's not in public where I can be judged for laughing at others.  

However, KARMA is still judging me and last week took matters into her own hands.

Anthony showed me this silly little video and the first time I watched it, I chuckled.  But I watched it a couple more time and it had me cracking up. You have to see it a couple if times to appreciate it, and to appreciate my plight.

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=DlgYQwf1Pug

Fast forward a few days and Tony's rat Corey was missing. I went to feed them just after lunch and he was gone.  He has the amazing ability to escape from his cage no matter what I do. He squeezes through the bars, then when I get new mesh to cover the bars, he chews through it, then I get stronger mesh and he chews through the cable ties holding the mesh on. He generally just runs around the garage/rumpus room and there isn't far he can go so it hasn't been a big drama. 

But this time, I called out to him like I usually do and he didn't come running out to me from his assortment of hiding places. 

Tony was due home in an hour so I got to searching. Finally I had the idea to check the roof.  I didn't think it was likely, but what if he had climbed up the walls and got into the roof? We have a little man hole at the end of our hall so in the name of motherly-duty, I braced myself to go break the barrier between our home and whatever lies up in our roof - whether it be just dust and cobwebs or a whole colony of cockroaches I had no idea. 

I dragged our ladder from the shed and made it into a 'M' shape as I wanted two steady foot platforms instead of one.  I was all set and ready to go and stepped into the centre step of my ladder and quickly learned my ladder was not properly locked into place as it shut right on both my shins.  I couldn't move as my legs  were  trapped inside the closed ladder whilst I was still up off the ground. Aside from the pain, all I could think about was that stupid YouTube video and how ironic is was that I was laughing at that poor fellow injuring himself after not locking his ladder in place, and here I was trapped in a ladder for the exact same reason. 

I managed to get one of my shoes off and with some effort I pryed it out of the ladder. Aside from some nice matching bruises, I'm otherwise unscathed. 

I psyched myself up to brave the ladder again and after checking (and re-checking) the ladder positioning, up I went.  I called out to Corey and after a few minutes, a little face peered down at me. Our one trick paid off!

Our rats are safe and sound (for now) and I have received a healthy dose of humility.https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=DlgYQwf1Pug#

Not the marrying kind

The weather on the coast was wild last week.  We lost power for five days (and subsequently most the food in our freezer and fridge), and the boys got an extra week of holidays due to the storm damage.  

When we realised the power would likely be out for a while, we bailed and headed down to Sydney to Anthony's parents place.  

On the way down, we had a chat with the boys about their Aunty's wedding, which was happening in a few days time.  The conversation turned to what kind of person they wanted to marry.  Specifically what qualities they were looking for. 

Carter piped up first and said;

"I want to marry someone who likes rugby and knows how to play rugby.  Maybe even a rugby coach."

Aside from being weird, it's a pretty narrow list of specifications.  

Tony chimed in with;

"I want to marry someone who can cook and make the foods I like.  Oh, and someone who can clean."

This just made me think Tony wants a maid, not a spouse.  But then, he thought a bit harder and felt the need to add to his list. He said;

"Also, and no offence Mum, but maybe someone with....you know.....less broken bones.  And no seizures.  So then they can do more stuff."

I couldn't hold in my laughter.  

Sure son, no offence taken....none at all !!

In the trenches

My boys have lots of cousins being born this year.  Five to be exact - unless anyone wants to announce something to increase that figure.  

Earlier this week, I took Carter to his six monthly paediatrician appointment.  Carter has a lot of appointments.  He had three this week and that is fairly typical for him.  This appointment his doctor asked whether we wanted to do further genetic testing by referring Carter to a geneticist.  He has had genetic screening done to help determine the cause of his developmental issues, but this test only screens for the more common genetic conditions and came up with nothing.  

The therapies and treatment will likely stay the same, but it would be good to know we have done all we can to find answers.  The doctor also pointed out it is worth checking to see if there is a genetic cause for any future children we may have.  

I quickly explained we aren't planning any more children as we have been advised my spine isn't stable enough and it would  mean a very difficult life for our family.  We are okay with this and although it wasn't what we planned a decade ago, we feel blessed to have Tony and Carter.

Later that afternoon, I realised we are past the 'young children' phase of life now.  We don't have babies or toddlers and won't again.  Our 'baby' is seven years old.  It hit me a little hard as I came to the realisation we are in a different stage of parenting now.  

I know each parenting stage will come with it's own challenges and learning curves, but now that we don't have babies or toddlers in our house, I feel like we have climbed out of the trenches.  That was what parenting young children felt like - being in the trenches.  You are exhausted, unshowered, covered in food or bodily fluids, and trying to survive.  It's rough! 

But there is also this weird comraddery that unites you with other parents of little ones.  You just 'get' each other.  You make eye contact in the supermarket, or the park, or the doctors waiting room, and with mutually glazed eyes and matching dark circles and 'Mum pony tails', you know you are battling the same war.  The fight against laundry and dishes in the quest for sleep. 

But there is also so much joy.  Amongst the hardship, you are making and raising people! That's pretty awesome.  The very idea that we create and mold little versions of ourselves is crazy when you think about it. Little people who love and adore you and place you on a ridiculously high pedestal until they get old enough to see that you are indeed only human.  We are in this stage now - they now know we are capable of mistakes.  We aren't their whole world anymore, we share their hearts with teachers and friends etc.

I love that we can tuck our boys in now and know we probably won't hear from them for a good eight hours because they sleep through the night.  I love that we can leave the house without a half hour of preparation.  I love not having to buy nappies (not wipes though, I can't see me ever not buying wipes - they are a multi-purpose wonder).  A part of me will miss the baby and toddler stage that is now a part of our past, because it is witnessing a miracle grow and develop right before your eyes.  The intense blend of love and exhaustion is a unique experience I wouldn't trade for anything.

But we are past that now.  We are sticking our head up out of the trenches and seeing what the world of parenting has in store for us next.  

Cats and dogs call a truce

My children fight.  Daily.   

They fight over anything, and some days  it feels like everything. 

Who got the bigger half of a Zooper Dooper. Who gets to sit in the preferred car seat.  Who is playing with which wrestler.  It goes on and on.  

Siblings are 'safe' to fight with I guess.  I remember feeling this way with my five siblings.  They can't suddenly decide not to be your sibling anymore.  So we feel all our feelings out in the open and it ends up spewing all over those we love most.  It's not ideal, but it happens.  

Because our boys fight like cats and dogs, I treasure the moments they get along.  I treasure them, but I dare not vocalise how nice it is to see them getting along so well, as the second those words pass my lips, it's like I cursed them both and it all falls apart into fighting again.  

They fought a lot over the weekend, and thankfully Monday rolled around and they had to go back to school because I got sick of refereeing their little dramas.  We try to teach them to resolve things themselves as much as possible, but we need a third child so their vote doesn't always end in one vs one with us needing to make the final call.

This afternoon, Tony mentioned something small, that was actually a 'big something'.  We almost could have missed it.  He said he left his hat at his friends house that morning and that his friend would bring it to school tomorrow.  

That could have been it.  But thankfully we asked a follow up question.  

Seeing as their school has the "no hat, no play" rule, I asked Tony what he did at lunch then with no hat.  He said Carter was nice and gave him his hat to use for the day.  I could see it wasn't a big deal to him.  I asked;

"What about Carter?  If you had his hat, what did he do?"

And Tony shrugged his shoulders and replied;

"Oh he probably just played handball under the covered play area."

Carter came down the hallway right then so we asked what he did at lunch time and who he played with seeing as he couldn't play in his normal area without a hat.  

He said matter-of-factly;

"I had to stay under cover so I didn't really play with anyone."

 He didn't seem to mind, but I saw Tony's face drop when he realised that Carter giving up his hat for Tony meant Carter was giving up his play time with his friends, but that he did it willingly for Tony.  Tony had just assumed he had still been able to play with his friends, but when he learned what had really happened, he sat next to Carter and have him a hug and thanked him.  

They have spent the rest of the afternoon playing perfectly together.  I know it could have been missed, and that they will probably go back to fighting again tomorrow, but I'm so glad that for an afternoon they can see each other the way we always hope they can. 

Where were child services?

Whilst my boys are at school each day, I think of them multiple times every hour.  I hope they are having fun, trying their best, being kind to others, listening to their teachers, and putting their darn banana peels into the bin instead of back into their lunch boxes. It's like putting your hand into a box of slugs.  

Every so often, I get a call from the school.  I have their number programmed  into my phone so when I see it, a little bit of panic washes over me for a second.  

What could this be about?

I hope the boys are ok.

Is one of them sick?

What in heavens has Carter been up to this time? 

Now generally speaking, the last one is just me jumping to conclusions.  GENERALLY. 

Let's go back about two weeks ago.  I get a call from Carter's teacher informing me he was out of sorts that day and that during reading time, he said he was sick. She said she didn't think I would have sent him to school unwell and that she saw him running around the playground earlier on and he seemed fine, but she wanted to check just to be sure. 

I told her no, he wasn't sick, just the king of avoidance and that he can be very creative if needs be.  She then started laughing and told me just how creative he had been.  

After the "I'm sick" routine failed, old Tarts tried "I'm tired" instead.  To make his story more believable, he decided some extra detail was necessary.  Apparently he said;

"I'm so tired.  I'm just really, really tired because I didn't have ANY sleep. I was up ALL night getting smacks so I'm very tired now!"

With his teacher laughing on the other end of the phone, I sat with my eyes shut shaking my head, not in disbelief - because it did sound like something Carter would say, but more that we have a child that can make accusations like this and no one bats an eye lid.  I'm hoping our time at school with Tony has shown we are not child-beaters who keep our children up ALL night for a good 'ol smacking.

It either says something about us, or a whole lot about Carter.  Either way, I have no doubt there is a great deal more humiliation in our future.