Tough love

Elle's has been nannying some kids over the summer who are, well, let's just say a little challenging.

Not one to be backwards, Elle has been taking them to task over their shabby behaviour, calling them out on every eye roll, sarcastic remark and pretty much treating them as we mothers would want. She knows she's not winning any favours with the kids, but frankly, bad luck.

However, not long before she was due to finish up, the mother took her aside.
The children have been really upset... she said quietly, so said children couldn't hear.
Here we go, thought Elle, I guess this day was always coming - the kids have complained. She braced herself for a reprimand.
... they're so sad that you're leaving. I know you can't stay full time, but I'm hoping you'll keep babysitting for us on a casual basis? 

Elle could come up with only one explanation; Stockholm Syndrome!!

The Price of Authenticity

I love a little authenticity, something bespoke, organic, rustic - especially in the kitchen.

Which is why I'm a huge fan of MudAustralia porcelain plates, bowls, serving dishes, mugs, et al. Each is an original, all hand poured, hand glazed and finished. Mine are mostly seconds, although to me, that slight 'flaw' is actually more evidence of their bespoke origin and character.

Similarly, I'm a big fan of the iron wood chopping boards that we use instead of small plates. They're very handy - you can make your sandwich straight on them, cut and eat, use them as trivets for hot dishes on the table and even as serving boards for cheese.

At Christmas, I took it one step further and got wooden handled cutlery. Isn't it gorgeous? Each piece unique.

So perhaps it was understandable that I was a little bit excited when I saw this in The Good Weekend - 250 million year old Himalayan salt chunks with block and grater.

Look at this, Elle! I enthused. How amazing is that? 250 million years old... it's beautiful!!

She did not share my enthusiasm. Indignant to the max she said, Oh,,, my... god! Is it not enough that we have to hand wash the cutlery? That we'll  now have to grate our own salt??

I haven't bought it... yet.

Farewell Fair Friend

After 10 years of service, we've retired our tent. We've certainly had our money's worth.

I vividly remember when I got it. Here's what happened (please, don't judge). I was on maternity leave  and rocked up to Kmart with all the kids in tow - George was 12, Jaz was 11 and in a wheelchair, Elle 7 and Sass 5 months in a pram on a mission to buy one of their $24 strollers to take on our driving holiday to Tasmania. Technically, Sass was still a bit small for a stroller, but there was no room for a pram.

We'd recently been camping at Easter with the six of us wedged into our one room tent and enduring a horrendous storm in which George's sleeping bag got soaked (with him in it!). That had sparked the need for a larger one - but right then, there were other priorities.

Back to Kmart. I spotted a two room tent on sale and called Geoff. If he promised to sell the old one, I'd buy the new one. Done!

I grabbed the tent, the stroller and the usual stuff you discover at Kmart that you didn't know you needed until you saw it.

Chatting with the ladies at the check out, I confess I wasn't paying much attention. I paid, organised George and Elle to help push the pram, the wheelchair and the over-flowing trolley back to the car. As I was loading kids and gear, I suddenly thought That can't be right when I recalled the finally tally of our shopping. I dug out the receipt and confirmed my suspicions. Among the chaos, the chat and the price checks, the tent had been put through at $24 and no no sign of the stroller.

I was not going back.

So there you have it. Pretty much a free tent.

After 10 years though, the zipper on the front was dodgy, we discovered half a pole missing (The Grampians last year?) and a small hole had appeared in the floor. So after camping this year, we packed it up neatly into its bag (missing one wheel) and left it by the bin.

PS I'd like to point out that I always tell a cafe if they'd missed a coffee on the bill or if I think a business has undercharged me. In fact, the electrical mechanic told me he'd never had anyone call to check that he'd remembered to charge everything! So please don't think this is my usual behaviour!!

The Races

Yes, ladies (and gents!) - we've had that time of the year again - Spring Racing Carnival.

The season of hats, frocks, champagne and shenanigans. (And occasionally a horse race.)

You can tell it's close when the fridge looks like this...

More champagne than food!

When asked what I was wearing, my business partner Mandy would jump in and say A nightie and a Michael Jackson jacket. Not inaccurate, but not exactly talking it up either.

I suffered the usual indignity of the spray tan. God that process is awful! There you are in a paper G-string and shower cap in a black booth that is sadly, so glossy you can see yourself naked from every angle. I swear those girls don't get paid enough.

As has become tradition, we hosted clients on Oaks Day in a car park On The Rails. It was warm - but the rain was torrential. Karma got Mandy for being rude about my outfit - a veritable waterfall spilled from our shelter down the back of her coiffed head and expensive dress - laugh!!! (Well, I was laughing!)

Not us - but this was the day.

Eleanor decided she'd wear my dress on Stakes Day - a couple of days after Oaks. That was all fine until she decided to post a 'Who wore it better?' on Facebook. I did not give that my okay for this!!!

Anyway, I was winning the sympathy vote (and frankly, my shoes were more flattering to the leg!) when she gazumped me with this.

Game over :(

Elle's Ls

Elle got her Learner's Permit last week. Yay! She passed with two questions to spare. Am I alone in hoping the questions she got wrong weren't the important ones - like what to do at a red light??

Elle's a bit of a late starter. Most of her friends turned 16 and got their Ls last year. And oh how I laughed - the stories! Girls turning corners in heavy traffic, only to forget which side of the road they were meant to be on, parents insisting cars be stopped - in the middle of the road - and learners ordered out of the driver's seat, language that parents really shouldn't direct at their own offspring. Oh yes, it was all very funny. But now it's our turn.

Geoff took her out first. The talk and coordination of the time took longer than lesson - which lasted seven minutes. I hadn't even realised they'd gone.

Me: When are you taking Elle for her lesson?
Geoff: I did.
Me: Really??

For someone who's pretty quick to be giving me driving tips, turns out she can't drive ducks to water. So afraid was she of getting out of control, she didn't get over 10km per hour.

Elle: So Dad's telling me to speed up and we're going down this really narrow street with a BMW on one side and a Porsche on the other....
Geoff: I had to grab the wheel before she drove into something!

I mentioned to my brother that Elle had her learners and mooted the idea of a neighbourhood letterbox drop. Fair warning I thought. He suggested I explore the system used by CityLink that interrupts radio frequency in the tunnel to deliver 'important messages'.

We're heading to a folk music festival in a few days - 3 hours out of town. I had thought it would be a good chance to get Elle's hours up. Geoff says it's a good chance we'll all be killed. It's not happening. In fact, he's insisting we're not ever both in a car when she's driving.

So I've booked her in with the RACV to have lessons. The first one went well - and managed to last the full hour! Next one later this week. Watch this space. And watch out for Elle on the roads!!!

The Drive-By

Week two of Sass's new school and she forgot her blazer.

She realised as I was dropping her and Elle off.

I thought she was going to cry. She had Assembly that day and had to have it.

Okay, I said. I'll go home and get it - wait outside the gate.

I drove home, found the blazer and drove back to school. It's about a 15 minute round trip which isn't bad except being late to class is almost as bad as not having your blazer.

I was both surprised and relieved to see Elle had stayed with Sass. In the interests of time and because the 16 year old was there, I checked the rear-vision mirror to ensure there were no cars behind me, put the driver-side window down and threw the blazer in their direction. It landed on the road. I had also checked for on-coming traffic. (See.... very responsible!)

Elle shot out and scooped it up before anything did appear to run it over.

Sort of like this - but bathers and blazers, not a banana skin!

It is a trap; working from home and being so close to school.

Here's what happened on another occasion.

Text from Elle: Mum, I forgot my bathers and I have swimming in PE. Can you bring them up at recess please? x
Me: Really?? I'm working... Oh okay. Can you stand out the front? x

I grabbed said bathers, drove up at the appointed time, lowered the window and threw them at her.

What?? No towel? She howled.

See, here's the problem with modern-day (ie brief) communication; I assumed she had everything but her bathers. As it so happened, she had nothing. Oh well.

Dry yourself with a sock! I offered, as I drove off.

She hasn't forgotten her bathers since.

Mother/Daughter Bonding

Looking for a bonding activity?

Elle and I did two on the weekend, both extremely successful - until we had yet another big fight! But never the less, here are some ideas to get closer to your kids.

1. Scrubbing the bathroom floor.
Side by side we scrubbed, half and half and with pretty spectacular results I might say.
Yes there were mutterings of 'child labour' and 'peasant's work' but she did persist.

2. Handing out clothes to the homeless on a Sunday night.
Elle and I spent four and a half hours in a mini bus with some socially incompetent fellow volunteers. We did our best to find suitable clothes for those for whom life has not been kind. Elle was hugged - several times - by a woman with enormous, bra-less breasts (she pointed them out to us a few times) and wearing a filth-covered foam neck brace - and still she smiled and remained super friendly. Go Elle!
If you're ever interested, they can always do with a hand....avaloncentre.org.au

I like this photo - I'm just that bit out of focus... perfect!

Who Gives A Crap?

I love this concept and have Facebooked about it - but here's some more info and a new chapter....

Basically, you have your toilet paper delivered to your door on a schedule that works for your household. It's inexpensive, recycled paper, wrapped in paper in a cardboard box and 50% of the profits go to building toilets and improving sanitation in developing nations. Okay - the paper isn't the most luxurious but the cause far outweights a bit of 'digital break-through'. (I spent some time in big ad agency land working on toilet paper and that's technical speak for when your finger pokes through the paper.... possibly collecting some poo...)

Anyway, how cute are the wrappers?

Do check them out - they're very funny! - and please order some. Here's their website. And just reminding you - although you hardly need it - no-one, and I mean NO-ONE pays me to promote products. (Let's not explore that too closely, I might be a bit sad....)

But, there is another part to this....

We got a delivery late last week and I asked Elle to put it away. Naturally she didn't. So when we got home from the footy on Saturday, with a friend and his 10 year old son, it was still just inside the front door.
Me - annoyed tone:  "Elle! I thought I asked you to put the toilet paper away??'
Elle - moany voice: 'I'll do it now...'
Friend's 10 year old, loudly: 'Who gives a crap!'
Friend - appalled: 'ETHAN! Don't you speak like that!
Us - all laughing - point at the toilet paper as Ethan gets a hasty apology from everyone.

So there you go kids - it also gives you a chance to use the word CRAP and not get into trouble!!

What matters?

We were recently fortunate enough to work on a brand strategy that landed us in a space of 'what matters'. It recognised that we often get so caught up in the everyday 'doing', of being busy, that we don't know if it is achieving the things that actually matter. The brand encourages people to take a moment to reflect on what does matter to them and just check that it is where your energy is directed.

For me, knowing that I have been fortunate in life means giving back matters.

I'm currently part of a small group, The MJs, (please do LIKE us on Facebook) who undertake various grassroots events to support different causes. Our key aims are to have minimal expenses so the maximum amount of funds raised end up with the cause, to try and get people closer to the cause (perhaps through a personal connection, the type of event or an activity) and to put the FUN back into FUNdraising.

Our current project has been providing physical help to an amazing organisation called Avalon, which collects, sorts and distributes clothes and bedding for the homeless. It has some other very worthy activities as well - check them out at avaloncentre.org.au 

Before we started mobilising the small army of helpers, Elle and I went out with Avalon on their Sunday night run, following the St Vinnie's food trucks and helping pack and unpack the vans at the various city locations.

At one stop, the well-signed bus was rushed by an exuberant woman who clearly had business on her mind. She'd spoken to the key organiser and had rendezvoused here, as planned, to make her donations. We climbed out of the van as she handed over a couple of black plastic garbage bags - one at a time with explanation:
'Now this bag has sheets and doona covers and pillow cases..'
The second bag came our way.
'...and this one has everything matching - the doona cover and pillow cases and the thing ... the frilly thing for the mattress...'
'The valance?' I offered.
'That's it!' she exclaimed, clearly relieved someone was speaking her language.
'It's got the doona cover, pillow cases AND valance - all matching - and I would REALLY like them to stay together.'

I managed not to laugh out loud. Was she insane? What homeless person is going to be concerned about having a matching valance? In fact, what person anywhere is lying awake because they don't have a matching valance? And what does a person sleeping rough even do with a valance? So many questions....

But, as she pranced back to her black BMW,  high on the goodness of her charitable deed, I realised... a matching valance mattered to her. And that is absolutely her prerogative.

The Fishing Trip

Before you read this, know that I have permission to tell this story.

So a couple of years ago we were staying with my parents over the Christmas break. Geoff and my oldest brother Will had taken George and Sass up to the harbour to fish and Elle and I were meeting them up there. (Mum had kindly tipped a good amount of tonic water out of the 300ml bottle and topped it up with Hendrick's gin for me to take. As it turned out, I needed that drink!!)

On the drive to the harbour Elle was saying she had managed to get a tampon in but that it was really uncomfortable. Now as it happens, I've spent her entire lifetime working with a brand of feminine protection, so these conversations are well within our comfort zone. I simply explained it probably wasn't in far enough and she needed to push it up further.

Once we arrived, Elle had a go at 'adjusting' but was still whinging so I sent her back to the loo with the instruction to just take the tampon out. Minutes later she was back, white, sweating and threatening to pass out. 'I can't get it out...' she's almost crying. Good grief. 'Okay,' I say, reminding myself I've dealt with far worse crises. 'I'll come with you as you'll just be pulling the string at the wrong angle.'
'Everything okay?' asked my brother Will, cheerily.
'All good!' I replied, matching his cheeriness.

I took Elle back to the corrugated oval structure that is the public toilet - with enough room to hold a small party! She plonked back on the loo, in serious danger of fainting. I tried to coach her through it, even sliding down into a sitting position with my back against the wall next to her to demonstrate the angle (with pants up!!) but she was now so distressed nothing was budging.

Next minute there was a crunching of gravel and a knock on the corrugated iron door - it's Uncle Will. 'Everything alright?' he called out - although it wasn't necessary for him to raise his voice as the structure provided no sound proofing what so ever. Elle was almost hyperventilating. I opened the door a crack and whispered 'All fine - secret women's business....' with a very earnest and hopefully imploring look.
'Oh,' he said, bewildered and wondered off. And I still wasn't  certain that he wouldn't be coming back.

All demonstration and coaching options had now been expended so there was nothing for it - I was going to have to fish that sucker out myself.

In a moment of clarity, I realised my best approach was to turn my back to Elle rather than head in head first. I reached down and got her to pass me the string and within a nanosecond, the offending tampon was out and she was breathing again.

Back at the wharf the fish-fishing was proceeding in a relaxed manner as I grabbed my tonic bottle and glugged it down fast, wondering where in the manual of being a mother it mentioned the removal of recalcitrant tampons??!

The Trap

Do you have a garage? A shed? An attic? A spare room perhaps? Somewhere you can store stuff that you don't require on a day to day basis or stuff that you're hanging onto because you might need it one day or you have some emotional attachment and can't let go?

We have an attic. They type that has the pull down ladder in the ceiling and Geoff has put some flooring up there and that's pretty much it. It's a trap. Why? Because it's far too easy to fling stuff up there rather than make an actual decision about it.

The door to The Trap! What lurks behind....

There is so much crap up there it's a fire hazard. So at Easter I decided the big project would be to check though what the heck was there and get rid of some stuff.

Here's a summary:

• Rationalising the enormous collection of soft toys down to just two huge stripy bags full. We should have gone harder I know but there's a lot of emotion in those stuffed bits of bathmat
• At least half a dozen good quality woollen blankets that Mum had given me when she and Dad moved house god knows how many years ago. We've never used them and as the weather grows increasingly chilly, I figure anyone sleeping rough would probably like one. Straight to St Vinnies.
• Three sleeping mats (we have bunk beds for the tent now) and about as many sleeping bags that have since been upgraded or that we no longer use. See above.
• A couple of Lladro figurines (not rare) that were Mum's - although she says she has no recollection of them. My cousin Amy likes that style of decoration so why on earth are they sitting gathering dust in my attic when she could be enjoying them?
• Just a few clothes that were Jazzy's and Elle's that I thought Sass might wear one day. Ha! Apart from a couple of pairs of wacky sneakers, the rest went straight to St Vinnie's.
• God knows how many crates of the kids' 'special art' and school journals - but could I get Elle and Sass to part with more than a small fraction of it? No. I'm thinking a sneaky clean out without them might be in order!

Here's a stroll through history:

• A huge crate of rolls for the pianola. We did have a pianola - it was my grandmother's - but do we really need so many old rolls of songs and music from the 1920s?? Probably not. But they're still there.
• A crate of memorabilia from my youth (yes, yes - all those years ago....)
• A box of family heirlooms from my parent's place (now minus a couple of Lladro figurines)
• A small crate of adorable baby things that I hope one day the girls might want for their babies
• Crates of photo albums - even though Geoff has pretty much scanned every photo we own
• The doll's house that was Jaz's, then Elle's, then Sass's
• The rocking horse that was Jaz's, then Elle's, then Sass's
• A crate of George's special things
• Some dioramas the kids did at school
• A crate of favourite kid's books (see baby things)
• Old trophies and awards

What's also staying that is useful:

• A couple of crates of ski gear - although we did manage to weed out the bits that don't fit anyone anymore
• Doona, pillows, mattresses and sleeping bags for sleep overs
• Some miscellaneous furniture we have pledged to rid ourselves of should any of it not find a home when we finally renovate
• Christmas decorations

I'm such a hoarder! I'm sure if George and Jaz were still with us, I feel sure I wouldn't need to hang on to so many tangible memories - but also suspect that space would just be taken up by other crap of theirs! I also suspect if one day it all just disappeared, apart from the useful stuff, we'd manage perfectly well without the rest.

So do you have storage trap? What do you keep and how do you let go of 'stuff'?? All tips gratefully received!

The Home Coming

Can you believe Elle's year at boarding school is over?

Seems like yesterday I was screaming at her to get on that bus and don't look back. Yes, that send off was quite the start to her adventure and my year without her as you may recall.

And now she's back. For good. And so far it's going quite well!

Here she is, striking a pose as she disembarked the bus for the last time.

She made it - although Geoff always suggested she stay away from cliffs - she is a little clumsy and he was concerned she'd fall over.

In fact, we watched the DVD of the year's highlights on the night of her return and there's a great bit of the whole year, all bunched up for a group photo in the snow on Mt Buller and suddenly the formation starts to collapse from the middle out to the left like dominoes - yep, Elle slipped over.

So I guess it was no surprise when after this confident pose, she stepped off the bus - and tripped!!

At least there was no cliff nearby.

Pros & Cons of Being #4

I was reflecting today how disciplined we were with George and Jaz when they were little,. The routine was clockwork. The only time they knew as pre-schoolers was 'twenty past seven' which was either ten minutes until we left for creche if it was the morning or ten minutes until they were tucked up in bed if it was night.

And once tucked into their cosy little beds, that was it. They never got out. On occasion, they would call for room service, but on the whole, it was dinner, bath, book and bed. We even used to pop Enya on the portable CD player to get them off to sleep.

Then straight up at 6.30am to do it all again.

Oh how things have changed!

It started to slide a bit when Elle was born - she's 5 1/2 years younger than George - but on the whole, it was still pretty much on track.

But then Saskia arrived - a mere 12 1/2 years after George  - and that perfect pre-schooler routine was never located again. We did look. But even by three she was a reluctant participant. 'Why am I going to bed?' she'd complain, bewildered, as George, now 15, Jaz 13 and Elle 9 were all settling in for a bit of Australian Idol.  Yep - just wasn't happening. We'd still be trying to round her up at 9.30pm.

This year was our big year. She's now 7 and the only one at home. Surely we could get a routine going. And we have - sort of. She does go to bed between 7.30 and 8pm. But does tend to pop out several times if the mood takes her. It's a complete mystery to me now as to how I got the others to stay there. And I'm sure there wasn't any yelling involved either.

But it has been pointed out by Saskia's peers mothers that there are up-sides. She is incredibly articulate and usually pretty confident. She can also be extremely grown up for someone who's 7 and be very responsible with our young, pre-school neighbour.

I think you do ease up a bit as they go on and I hope there were pros and cons for all of them. But I am wondering if, like grand parenting, there should be some refresher courses for those of us who thought they'd just sneak in that last one before menopause. But at least tonight I did think to pop some music on - the iPod not the CD - and I haven't heard peep out of her!

All six of us circa 1855. (or 2006!)

The Party

Elle was home from boarding school for the weekend. When I say the 'weekend' it was pretty much a week. I wish I had the same ability as her school to condense time! A weekend to me is two days. Six is pretty much a week. But hey, that's private school for you - the more you pay the less you get.

And why were they on a 'break'? That's right - The Melbourne Cup. The only place in the world, I hedge to bet, that has a public holiday on a Tuesday for a horse race. I did think it was pretty funny when the news talked about the bemused tourists never seeing anything like The Cup parade through the city, etc. What about the parade we have for the football grand final? Or Moomba? Or even how everyone goes nuts about the Australian Open - also here in Melbourne. Seriously, sport is our religion.

But back to Elle.

She asked if she and her friend could go to a party on Friday night. It was supervised, there was security and it was $5 to get in. Sounded perfectly legitimate to me. What they didn't realise was that the hosting hall wasn't in neighbouring South Yarra, but way out in Burwood. Never mind, I said, sounds fine - I'll drive you there and pick you up.

As we arrived, there were young men in hi-viz vests with night wands directing parents to the drop off point, which was all very reassuring.

The girls were very excited and said they'd text me with the pick up time.

So weren't they surprised when half way through the party, the lights were turned on, the music turned off and they were all asked to sit down on the floor and let Jesus into their hearts. Laugh!!!

In addition, they told me that during the dance, the night wands were also used to tap kissing couples on the shoulder to 'cut that out - it's offensive to others' and even those who were dancing too closely got the tap. I loved this party!

In fact having got the debrief, I have promised Elle and any of her friends that I am willing to drive them anywhere to go to more of those parties!!

The night wand - used for directing traffic and keeping teens apart!!

Show Bags.

I was at uni with a guy nicknamed Show Bags - very appealing on the outside but in reality, full of crap.

So one of the many advantages of running your own business is flexibility. We had a client who had a presence at The Royal Melbourne Show so Mandy and I decided to take the kids and check it out.

It had been quite some time since Mandy had been to The Show, so she was surprised to see a small baby in a pram drinking chocolate milk from her baby bottle. I raised her when I saw two small children in a double stroller in The Show Bag Pavilion with Coke in their baby bottles. Classy.

Being the super nerdy dag that I am, I love the Craft & Cooking Pavilion. All the quilts and knitted bits, woodwork and decorated cakes. Some are incredible, many are hideous, but I'm dazzled never the less. So much so that after the kids had watched the biscuit decorating demonstration and I was still immersed in the preserves, I got the tap on the shoulder from Mands - we were out of there.

A tea cosy titled: Fifty Shades of Earl Grey.

It's no cheap outing with rides costing between $7 and $13 each!  So I was pleased to see Sass (aka Quinoa) get a driver for her dodgem' car. Why drive yourself when you can have a professional (aka the Carnie) do it for you?? Oh that's right - because you can't reach the accelerator.

The girls also had a go at reading the Channel 7 news....which was not only kinda cool because they immediately text you a link to the video - but it's FREE!!! Yes, really.

"Elle & Sass. Seven News."

Sugar stash as of this morning.

So back to the show bags. As a general observation, there seems to be an inverse correlation between household income and expenditure on show bags. There are dozens of $24 Kmart strollers weighed down with $240-worth of complete and utter rubbish.
The girls were allowed two each. Elle went straight for the magazine/beauty ones with make up, fast tan, bags and other things she'll actually use.

You won't recognise a brand -
it's all made up names - probably from China

The choice for Sass was slim - landfill (ie cheap crap that I will need to sneakily dispose of in the coming 12 months) or sugar (she's lost a heap of baby teeth lately and I didn't like that idea either.) We settled for one of each. But two weeks later, the sugar stash is still ludicrously large and I'm finding tell-tale wrappers everywhere.

So do you do The Show? What's your fave? And do you choose landfill or sugar for the kids' show bags?

The Train

Yes, where have I been....

Actually, on holiday as you know with crap weather, but we are now home.

One of the anticipated highlights was the trip across the Nullarbor on the Indian Pacific train. By comparison to our train travel in Vietnam and Egypt, this was truly civilized. There were clean sheets, en suites and even..... toilet paper. Wow. You might recall after two consecutive nights on the trains in Vietnam, enthusiasm for train travel was waning, so it was quite remarkable that I managed to convince the crew to get on another one. Oh that's right, I didn't ask them, I just booked it.

We arrived at the train station in Perth and it was like pensioner's day at the pokies. I'd joked that Geoff and I would drag down the average age by 20 years - but it was true. It was us, two other families and 200 people aged over 70.  'Don't think it'll be rowdy' I quipped on FB. 'Just wait til bingo!" responded my friend Deb. But there was no bingo.

Having boarded the train just before noon, we sorted out our cabins and set off for the lounge and dining car. And that's where we found everyone - in the bar - and drinks are included! And it's not the cheap stuff either - I kicked off with a glass of Vasse Felix bubbles and pretty much took it from there. We played Scrabble, Uno, dominoes and Connect Four. (Geoff asked what the point of that game was. Elle and I thought it was pretty apparent, but apparently not.) We read books, napped, ate and drank - and then did it all again.

The train pulled in to Kalgoorlie about 10pm and those of us who'd stayed up late (many of the oldies had indeed gone to bed) piled onto buses for a town tour - which was surprisingly good - or maybe it was that I was kinda relaxed on the Vasse Felix! We saw the gold mine that runs 24/7 and climbed into one of the huge trucks they use to transport the dirt to the extraction plant. And of course we had a quick look at Hay Street where the ladies of the night still run a reasonable trade, despite the population shift away from being mostly blokes and at least one brothel now being a 'romantic' bed and breakfast.

Indeed, for a town that's less than 30,000 strong, 26 pubs, many bragging 'skimpies' (girls clad in not much), does seem a tad excessive and not quite as 'family' as they now like to think they are.

The next day was again filled with eating and drinking and views of the desert. Here's a picture.

And here's another.

And one with a filter.

Get the picture?

In fact, the name Nullarbor is Latin (not aboriginal as sometimes thought) and very obvious. 'Null' as in none/nothing and 'arbor' as in trees (as in arborists the tree doctors or arboreal animals, meaning tree-dwelling).

Just before (or after - I can't remember!) pre-lunch drinks on day two, we pulled into Cook, a tiny town just inside the South Australian border. I actually did this same train journey in reverse when I was about 13 and Cook was a highlight. The kids from the school were so excited to see people from the train. But these days, the school is closed, the pool is filled with dirt, the tennis courts are decaying. the jails are empty and the population is a staggeringly tiny four.

At one stage, Cook boasted a hospital which they viewed as their salvation as the privatisation of the rail system threatened the town's continuance. And someone should have been in advertising!

Back on the train for a bite of lunch and a glass of very lovely red (or two) before yet another nap. Then it was time for pre-dinner drinks and dinner and bed. It was extremely relaxing! 

The train arrived in Adelaide at just after 7am where we disembarked for a weekend of more wineries and touring.

Farewell My Van

My van was picked up by its new owners yesterday. No more sliding doors for me! You may recall I have posted about it before. I've never loved it but it certainly served its purpose.

We got it 5 years ago when Jaz had scoliosis surgery and we weren't allowed to pick her up for fear that the rods in her back could dislodge. She had to be hoisted in a sling and stay in her wheelchair until they were sure it had fully healed. So it was farewell to the Pajero - which I was very fond of - and hello to the van. I always thought if I had to drive a van, this was definitely the pick of them. Fortunately, Mercedes was a client of the agency I worked for at the time and helped me out by finding an ex-demo that I could actually afford.

We also then had a hydraulic lift fitted. None of this is a secret - I did tell the new owners who thought the bracket to hold the lift's remote control was a bottle opener! We had the lift taken out less than a year later when Jazzy died.

It was then handy for George's wheelchair too, as it was easy enough to fling in the back behind the third row of seats where there was still plenty of room and a surprisingly low floor.

But I do have some great memories:

• The Cubs loved it when I was with Scouts. 'What happens in the van, stays in the van,' they'd say (ie eating lollies I'd bought them at the petrol station.)

• I had a whole routine for Sass and her friends:
   'Welcome aboard flight Mother Who Works, destination school. Please ensure your seat belt is firmly fastened, your seat upright, table stowed and all hand luggage secured. In the unlikely event of an incident, please follow the instructions of the flight crew. Should we lose cabin pressure, a mask will drop from the compartment above. Place it over your nose and mouth and breath normally.... blah, blah, blah. Estimated time of the flight, approximately five minutes. Thank you for choosing to fly with Mother Who Works."
  The kids thought it was hilarious - even when it was repeated again and again and again. 

• I loved that 'Don't make me come back there!' was never an idle threat
• I've driven Elle and her friends to parties and collected an entire van full of them in the middle of the night
• We've been camping with a trailer hitched on the back and the canoe and tables on the roof
• Around the neighbourhood, everyone knew the van and when we were out and about
• It's trucked teams of advertising peeps around town (many who think they're rock stars requiring a van!!) and served as the mobile office on many an occasion

But with just the two girls now, we don't need it and I'm not sad to say goodbye. I think it could almost drive from our house to The Royal Children's Hospital on auto-pilot. And the family who bought it are just lovely, so I'm glad it's gone to a happy home. 

My new (second hand) car is a black 4WD with a black interior and seats a mere five. Not even any flip out seats. Just five. And it feels so zippy!! But I can't change the radio station or work the heater and I keep setting off the windscreen wipers. I've even managed to immobilise it when we were late for a meeting...ahhhhh!!!

So it's so long to my van and hello to a whole new, annoying learning curve....

Still giving.

Last Friday night, my folks were in town and offered to take us to dinner - my choice. In the interest of ease and being agreeable, I booked The Club at 6.30pm. A little later than they like but do-able.

At 5.40pm on the day, the phone rang.
Dad: "What time will you be here?"
MWW: "I've just walked in the door. Elle's just walked in. Geoff's in the shower - I guess we were thinking we'd leave about ten past six....."
He explained they'd been upgraded to some 'retreat' section of The Club and part of the attraction was free drinks from 5.30pm.

Now it needs to be said that my parents (and us too for that matter) are well able to pay for our own drinks, but it does prove yet again that everyone loves something for free.

"Well, just get here as soon as you can," he implored. But that wasn't the end. "What time do you think you could get here? I'll need to meet you in the lobby because you can't get up here on your own - you need to be a member." Oh, the exclusivity!
"About ten past six?" I ventured. That seemed to do it.

We scurried about, getting ready and piled in the car. The parking gods were on our side and we nabbed a park on the street not far from the entrance. The meter needed $4 of coin. It was my second trip into town for the day, so my spare coin was a little light. Luckily, Sass had brought her purse, so between the two of us, we got the required amount. I hit "OK" and immediately realised I just paid for for the BMX X5 in Bay One ahead of us and our Bay Two was still sitting on 'Expired'. Bloody hell!!

We started collecting coins again, digging into the depths of my hand bag and suggesting to Elle that she write a note to said BMW owner in the hope of them being grateful. We got to $3.80 and I was just mustering up the final 5c pieces when the owner of the car in Bay One arrived back, jumped in his car and drove off!!! I asked Geoff if he wanted to drive up a bay but at that stage we'd all lost interest so I shoved in the last 20c and hit "OK" again and we rushed off to find Dad awaiting our arrival.

I hope someone got to enjoy the $4 of parking courtesy of MWW!

Here are my other acts of unconscious generosity - here.

Six, five, four, three.

Four years ago, there were six of us living here. The kids were 15, 13, 10 and 3. George and Jaz were both at Glenallen and although Jaz's status was palliative, she was still getting to school about three days a week and staying out of hospital. We were busy with usual family, work and school activities, but we knew it was only a matter of time. We were looking forward to camping at Bright for Easter - and we got there!

Jaz & Elle 2006, aged 11 and 7.

This time last year, there were five of us living here - although George was still in hospital after his spinal surgery to correct his scoliosis. Unexpectedly, he nearly didn't make it - which you may have read about but feel free to recap on this link. Thankfully he pulled through. We had hoped to camp at Nagambie. We didn't get there.

From October, there were four of us living here. Not only that but there was no equipment and no one with a disability. Of course I'd prefer there was - it'd mean George was still with us, but that's not the case. Our routine has changed dramatically. It was early mornings to get George (and Jaz prior to that) up, dressed and fed for the 7.10am bus pick up, the broken sleep and constant worry during the night that he was okay and still breathing, still in bed and not on the floor, the keeping track of five tube feeds a day and countless medications. Now our routine is what most people would consider  to be 'normal', although it's new to us. I have reflected often that for some families, due to illness or accident, they find their world turned around in the opposite direction - to go from 'normal' to suddenly having to care for someone. I'm sure that would be much more difficult.

And now, there's just the three of us living here. Elle is at boarding school and people ask me if I miss her. In honesty, I don't. I know she's having a great time and is safe and happy. I think I still miss George and Jaz so much there's no room for any more 'missing' - and there's really no need, Elle will be coming back.

The Card

Some of you may have seen the article my business partner Mandy and I got in B&T (an industry mag) a couple of weeks ago. (If the type is coloured, it is a link - just in case that isn't apparent - in this case, to said article).

Elle commented that it was a great shot of Mandy - but perhaps not my best. 

'Yeah, well, Mandy picked it,' I said.

'Hmmmm.......' said Elle.

'Here's the one I put on our Thread FaceBook page, what do you think of that one?'

'That's a good one of Mandy too, and a better one of you,' she decided.

'Yes, well, I chose that one!'

I keep telling people this story - in front of Mandy! Because in truth, what happened was she sent out the release and forgot a photo. I shot her an email but she'd already realised. We were due at a meeting and she literally had to fly home, send a pic and get going again - no time for a considered selection. It was sent just after 12 noon and the article appeared at 2pm. She says I'm being unfair by not telling everyone this part of it and I keep tell her to stop ruining my story!!! 

Anyway, just to wrap it up, here's a scan of the card she gave me yesterday. I laughed so hard I nearly wet my pants!!!!

Just a bit of house keeping - a couple of people have asked how to comment if you receive these posts via email. You need to hit a link - usually the post title - which will take you onto the blog online and then you can comment. Although I'm tempted to request no comments on this post -  it is a joke - not a competition!!