Weird things I have eaten

About two weeks ago, I reached a milestone in my life. I ate my first snail.  It will likely also be my last.  I'm not even slightly adventurous with my eating habits so before eating said snail, I had already decided that mollusks aren't my kind of delicacy. 

A kind friend of mine took me to a French restuarant for a post-birthday celebration.   She bravely ordered snails as an entree. Once they arrived, I watches her try one with admiration.  She then turned of me and said that now that I am 30, I need to be able to say I have tried a snail.  Without a moments hesitation I shook my head, but there was still a snail on a fork in front of my face. 

My friend tried to convince me by saying;

"Just try it!  Just don't look at it.  Close your eyes if you have to. Open your mouth and look away, whatever you do, do not look at it!"

Anything that you have to close your eyes to eat doesn't sound like my kind of food.  But sometimes those big moments in life present themselves and we reach a fork in the road. We can travel down the path that feels safe and familiar but leaves little room for growth, or we can go down .........argh, what am I talking about - I ATE A SNAIL!!!

It wasn't particularly awful, just kind of what I would expect a snail to taste like. Less slimy though.  I didn't hate it, but I won't be eating many more in the future, mainly because snails seem kind of cute to me.  I always feel so awful when I accidentally step on one. 

This experience led me to make an unusual list in the 'Notes' app on my phone.  I have added items here and there as they come to my memory.  The list is;

"Weird Stuff I Have Eaten."

I shall now share my list with you (and delete it from my 'Notes' as it is a bit of an odd thing to do).

Weird Stuff I Have Eaten

1. A snail.  Let's call this my 'Birthday Snail'.

2.  Baby vomit.  I was playing with one of our boys when they were young and was lying on our bed 'flying' them over my head and as I was talking and laughing, vomit straight into my mouth.  It was a direct hit and resulted in my own vomiting.

3. Raw egg.   I tend to drink from cups that aren't mine.  If I'm thirsty and I see a glass, even a half full glass, I will drink it.  When I was younger, I saw what I thought was orange juice, only to find it was raw egg.

4.  Clay juice.  You would think I would have learned my lesson from the raw egg experience, but I did not.  As kids, we would sometimes go to the Speedway with our Dad.  My younger siblings would collect the chunks of clay that would fly over the guard rails as the cars sped around the corners and would roll them into balls.  For some bizarre reason, one of these clay balls ended up in a cup of water in the fridge.  Which I once again drank.

5.  Bark.  I cannot tell you how many times I have picked up what I thought was a bit of dropped chocolate off the floor and realised I was eating bark....or dirt....or who knows what else.  Why am I eating food off the floor??

6.  Sand.  This one has always appealed to me, but it turned into a real craving both times I was pregnant. I just wanted to eat sand.  I don't think it was the taste, more the texture.  I even filled a bottle with sand when we went to the beach, you know - just in case.

7.  A cockroach.  When I was a teenager, I awoke one night because I felt something in my mouth.  I freaked out and spat out whatever was in there and turned in the light to discover a large, disgusting, cockroach.  I'm pretty good with spiders and bugs, but cockroaches still gross me out. 

8.  A chunk of my big toe.  I had a friend sleeping over when I was in Year 3 and I covered the bathroom floor with water and soap to 'ice skate'.  I somehow managed to slice a chunk off the side of my big toe on the edge of the shower.  I know it was deep because it didn't bleed straight away, it just went all white, then the blood came.  It also barely hurt in the beginning.  

I thought it would be funny to gross out my friend by putting the chunk of toe on my tongue and chasing her.  She was indeed disgusted, but in my laughter, I accidentally swallowed it.

And this concludes my list.  For now anyway, there will no doubt be updates if I continue my reckless eating habits. 

Man hunting

After Anthony and I went on our first date - there was obviously a second. The fact that I am writing this story for all to read tells you it must have a happy ending.  I certainly wouldn't be telling this story if after our first date I heard wedding bells, but Anthony was repulsed by me. I am far too proud. Plus I'm so irresistible that of course there was a second date. 

Those early days are a bit of a blur but I can tell you they consisted of Anthony and I not leaving each other's side too often. So much so that there was in intervention of sorts held.

After my last blog post, it was brought to my attention that one evening whilst Anthony was at my house (of course), some of his siblings arranged a meeting to ask his parents to tell him he had hardly been home long after 2 years away and that he was spending very little time with them.  

Now, I must be less valued amongst my siblings as no one staged any meetings because they missed me. 

Clearly Anthony and I were together a lot from the get go.  I can't tell you exactly when, but after a couple of dates (and it may literally have been two - I can't remember aside from the fact it wasn't our first date), we went for a walk one evening. As I have mentioned in the past, I'm not very gutsy in making a move, but I also had no intention of waiting long to test out our chemistry in the...umm...lip vincinity, if you know what I mean. 

Whilst we were out walking around a nearby park where some sporting teams were training, Anthony grabbed my hand. That same night we were talking whilst at a playground and I remember thinking;

"Hurry up and kiss me!"

Call me impatient if you will, but good kissing chemistry mattered to me. I'm sure good kissing COULD be a 'practice makes perfect' sort of thing and that an awkward first kiss isn't the end of the world - but I needed to know if he had the goods in the kissing department. Yes, yes, I'm fickle that way.

I won't go into too much detail...except to say I planned on kissing those lips a lot more.

Anthony and I got engaged 5 months after our first date - I would have said 'yes' earlier.  I know by some peoples standards that is considered fast. Perhaps for some even too fast to know enough about someone to commit to a life together. But I said 'yes' anyway. 

If I am being honest, I would agree in some ways - perhaps you can't know enough about a person in 5 months to know whether or not there is a happily ever after in your future. Marriage is a risk - I have seen enough marriages end to know this much.  Some of those couples were together for many years before getting hitched, others engaged after only a few weeks, but I knew enough to know that I felt very lucky to be the one Anthony proposed to and confident that we had what it took to make a life together.

I had seen his love for his family and wanted that same love for myself and my future children.  I knew he would put my best interests ahead of his own as he would already carry my handbag around for me without my ever asking and I didn't know many guys who would risk the mockery that comes with carrying your girlfriends handbag for her. I knew he loved his sport and yelled at the TV and clapped loud and fast during intense moments in a game, but I could live with that.  I knew we were both home bodies who loved being at home and that if we spent a lifetime on the couch watching movies eating cheeseburgers and ice cream together, we would be happy.  I knew our taste in music and tv shows differed a lot, but we had time to find new shows and new music we could like together - or if all else failed we owned ear phones.  

 I knew that above all, I was loved - in the kind of way that you feel is enough for a lifetime. 

Meeting Mr. Right

I was drawn to Anthony the first time I laid eyes on him. Seriously. The absolute first time I saw him, he caught my eye . 

This made me feel somewhat guilty as I had a boyfriend at the time and it doesn't make you a very good girlfriend if you are attracted to what is no more than a stranger when you have a boyfriend.  Very bad, bad girlfriend! 

But I couldn't help it - I liked what I saw. 

I'm not one to do the chasing when it came to boys, but I'm also not one to play it cool either. Like, at all. Zero cool here. 

Anthony returned home to Sydney on Valentine's Day 2004. I moved to Sydney from Adelaide just two weeks earlier.  I remembered hearing it announced that there was going to be a welcome home breakfast for some guy at his house and the directions said to look out for the basketball hoop in the driveway. I had no idea who this guy was so figured it would be weird if I went and that my presence there welcoming him home would mean.....well, nothing.  So I didn't go. 

Had I actually gone, this would have been our first meeting. 

Fast forward two weeks and Anthony was speaking at our church. I saw him and decided then and there I was mighty interested in getting to know him. I had no plans on how to do this, but I was in the same room as him so that was a good start.

That night there was a young adult get together at a house near by. I went and was secretly hoping Anthony would be there. To my delight, both Anthony and his brother Drew came. I don't want to sound too stalker-esque, but I can tell you everything Anthony was wearing that night. Red Dickies t-shirt, cut off jean shorts, and black Havianas. Yeah, that is pretty creepy isn't it!

I know I am coming off as a massive desperado here, but I still hadn't said a single word to Anthony at this point. My description of the story thus far sounds like I was already writing wedding guest lists.  

We exchanged a few pleasantries that night but nothing earth shattering. The next day I came home from Uni to the news we were going to 'The Bush's' along with another new to the area family to play some games and get to know one another better. 

My Nana was visiting from Adelaide at the time. When Anthony's mum asked our family to organise a game to play that evening, Nana had some great suggestions. First she suggested 'Truth or Dare', and then she thought 'Spin the Bottle' might be a good idea.  It could have been fun, but the risk of having to kiss a stranger or my own brothers were deterrent enough for me so I squashed that idea quickly. 

Again, the psycho in me can tell you Anthony's outfit that night - light blue shirt, jeans, and black shoes with little brown stripes (I wasn't a fan of these shoes but he made it pretty easy to look past).  Anthony told a story that night and I remember him asking me a question that I had to make up some vague answer to as I wasn't really listening properly, just staring at him while he spoke. The more I was around him, the more I wanted to be around him. 

A few weeks passed and my boyfriend at the time came to visit. While he was here, there was a young adult meeting on at our church. I had to go a bit early for another meeting, but once my meeting was over, I sat with my boyfriend waiting for the main meeting to start. I realised here that I was watching the door hoping to see Anthony walk through it. When he did, I got up and ditched my boyfriend to go say 'hi'. I don't think I even told him where I was going! 

It was pretty clear to me that my heart was leading me elsewhere. I did feel guilty, but felt it would be foolish to ignore how I felt. 

Three days after my boyfriend left back to Adelaide to prepare for a trip overseas, Anthony and I went on a date the first time. We spent the whole night talking and I think when I walked through the front door in the early hours of the morning, I could of told you there was a strong possibility I could marry Anthony. 

He was smart, funny, and of course he wasn't too hard on the eye either. We shared common beliefs and values and I thought he would make a fantastic role model for my future sons to follow.  

Now just how to get my claws into him and convince him he couldn't bear to live a day without me. 

Call me Granny

I am about to hit a milestone in my life. In less than a week I turn the big 3-0!

It's not an achievement by any means on my part as I didn't actually do anything other than stay alive, but I do feel like it's one of those 'something birthdays'. Some birthdays are 'something birthdays' (such as 16, 18, 21, 40), and some are 'nothing birthdays' (like 23 and 27). I know it's ridiculous but that's my logic.

I'm not too worried about turning 30, aside from the fact I remember my Mum being 30 so whatever shortfalls I have I can no longer  console myself with the thought;

"Oh the boys are young and won't remember much of this age anyway."

They WILL remember. 

Already I see that 30 seems like a great age to be turning. It feels like around now I am really settled within myself. I am really comfortable with who I am and my interests, beliefs, decisions, relationships, and opinions. I am completely aware that I have shortcomings, but know that it's not the end of the world and as long as I am constantly trying to improve that the world won't come to an end because I made a mistake.

I know who I am as a wife. I know how much I treasure my marriage and recognise it as a true source of happiness and stability in my world. I also know my marriage is strong, but constantly evolving as is necessary in life.  We have faced hard things during the past decade, but I know where my strengths lie in our relationship, and where I rely on Anthony to help where I struggle. 

I am at the stage where I know what a REAL fairytale relationship is. There is no ball gowns, princes, or Fairy Godmothers.  For me it's more like dressing gowns, tickle fights, and fairy bread.  But I realise how blessed I am. I have a relationship that is wonderfully real. Real fairytale relationships have people who work hard to treat the other better than they treat anyone else because they want them to know they are treasured. There is two people who both know they are loved by the other every single day. They know they are loved even on the days they are harder to love. 

I know who I am as a Mother. I place this role as the most important work I will do, yet at the same time I need to be honest and say somedays my most important work is also the most tiring, frustrating, and difficult. At this stage I am learning that my role has changed and I am already having to tread the fine line of when to step in and when to step back. My instinct is still to grab the jug from Carter's hands when I see him pour a drink, but he reminds me he can do it himself so I step back and watch (with a cloth in hand all ready). 

We are getting some of the curlier questions from our boys now. Questions that make me realise how fast time is going as it feels too soon. I'm just glad they want to ask their dear old Mum and Dad still, as when my 40th rolls around, we will have an 18 year old and a 16 year old and I doubt my opinion will be sought quite so often.

I am much more comfortable with my views, beliefs, and opinions now.  Even just a few years back, I was much more reserved in expressing my opinions, but now see them to be worthy of expressing in a respectful manner and at an appropriate time. They aren't always right I'm sure, but come from thoughtful consideration and are a reflection of my experiences in the world. 

I'm also more comfortable to agree to disagree as I know it doesn't have to change my relationship with that person. Everyone's views are a result of personal experience and cannot be expected to align perfectly. How many wonderful perspectives would we miss out on if that was our expectation? 

I think the main difference I see from turning 20 to turning 30 is that I am more accepting of myself, and of the surprises life throws at me. I still stress at the unexpected, but at the same time I feel a quiet inner peace that tells me that no matter what curveballs have been thrown our way, we are still here and happy and stronger than ever.  

It's soapbox time!

I'm not really one to get into politics, but the 2014 Budget seems to have the country in a bit of a tizz and I have some opinions if my own. I won't share them with you in detail as I hope to have people actually continue to read my blog, but there is one subject that is pretty touchy for me. 

It is the price tag Australia puts on stay-at-home Mothers. 

We have been told that Mothers need an 'incentive' to return to workforce. Apparently that incentive is money.

I am all for an honest days work for an honest days pay etc etc, but there is great value to what a stay-at-home mother brings to the community. They do not literally stay home baking muffins and watching Dr. Phil all day.  Who would watch Dr. Phil when Ellen is on?

Stay-at-home mothers can be found running play groups, volunteering in the school canteen, helping struggling children with one-on-one reading that is impossible for classroom teachers to provide with their hectic schedules, care for the children of working friends/family, and most importantly - they care for their own children. This frees up spots in childcare centres for those who need them. 

I in no way have an issue with any mother who does work and I don't believe they love or care for their child to a lesser standard than a stay-at-home mother. Their choice to work is their choice to make and need not be justified to anyone.  I'm completely aware the guilt trip works both ways. Working mothers absolutely get the rough end if the stick too at times.

But it seems that our government views working mothers as contributing to society and stay-at-home mothers not so much. 

Decades ago, there was the expectation that mothers would stay home with their children. Women fought for the right to enter the workforce without judgement. I respect this.

But why now do I have to fight to defend my choice to stay home with my children? It doesn't need to be one way or the other. Both can be viewed with equal respect and appreciation. Both can be understood to be important. Each can be lifted to a place that our society can value without pushing the other down. 

I am an educated woman. I studied full time while my children were young so I could support my family if *heaven forbid* our family required it, but more so that my family deserves the best of me. I still desire to continue learning. Motherhood hasn't taken that from me. But when Anthony and I decided to have children, we also both wanted me to be home with them while they were young (not just their pre-schooling years).  

I knew what I was doing. I knew the decision I was making in wanting to be a stay-at-home mother and it doesn't diminish my intelligence at all. The intricacies of running a household can be as demanding as any full- time job. It somedays provides the luxuries of a long lunch and freedom, and other days leaves little time to eat at all. Somedays the work is fulfilling and fun, such as volunteering in my boys school classes, but can be mundane and unnoticed, such as the hour and a half spent cleaning window tracks with cotton buds. 

My desire is not that everyone make a big song and dance for stay-at-home mothers, just that they are seen to be important and valued by the country we live in.

It's a choice we made, and we have paid the price financially by not having a second income, but it's a choice I would make time and time again because I know its important. 

Just in time for the lies

It was only a matter of  time  until something like this happened.

Today I had the privilege of spending time in Carter's classroom. Somedays I help with home readers, but I stayed back a bit longer today to help with an art activity. 

Carter has a fantastic teacher who has more patience in her little toe than I have all together.  More than anything I appreciate her sincere care for my little man.

I love watching Carter in action. He is the Art Helper this week.  As you can imagine, he takes his jobs VERY seriously.  At one point in the morning, some children at his table needed help finding the next blank page to glue in their work. Carter then told me HE needed help too. 

I showed them the same thing I'm sure their teacher has shown them many a time. We started at the front and flipped through til we found a blank page. I used Carter's book as the example and made a point of commenting on the great work I could see as I flipped through. 

There were several drawing with captions that Carter had obviously narrated to his teacher to write for him. 

One described him at the park. 

Another one showed a train.

But the one that caught my eye was the picture with the caption under it;

"This is a picture of my Daddy smoking."

I asked him if he had told his teacher that Daddy smokes.  He smiled proudly and said;

"Yes!"

Just here for the food

The older our boys are getting, the more I see them developing into their own person. They have more developed senses of humour, interests, passions, fears, and schedules. 

When they were a few years younger, they were demanding in the sense that they constantly wanted something of me as their mother. Whether it be my arms to carry them, my eyes to watch them, my ears to listen to them, my voice to sing or read to them, my hand to hold theirs, or to literally just be there to have them sit ON me.

There were countless times I felt truly blessed.

Other times I felt truly smothered. 

They didn't have much of a schedule of their own other than what we had planned for 'us' that day. They came along for the ride in whatever I had to do.

Now they have schedules that are as important as ours as parents. They have school, activities, assignments, and friendships that all require us to work their schedules into the family schedule. I often find myself getting books from the library on certain topics, buying particular craft materials, or attending school activities whilst the boys are at school. I spend more time away from them now,  but still spend the same amount of time doing things FOR the boys even when they are elsewhere. 

Tony's current interests are pokemon and Minecraft. Carter's are weddings, rugby, and police. Carter has also taken a bit of an interest in Pokemon - but I think it's just because his older brother likes it so it's cool. 

Yesterday morning, Carter was asking me a Pokemon related question. I have limited Pokemon knowledge and proved not very useful. As I walked down the hallway, I heard Tony tell Carter;

"Carter, if you have any questions about Pokemon, you should ask me because I know all about that stuff. Mum doesn't know Pokemon, she just does the cooking and stuff."

So now we know why I am here and what my children see my 'interests' as - the cooking and stuff!