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!!

Hopelessly underprepared.

It's time for the Run For The Kids again. It seems to come around more quickly every year, but the fact that it also seems longer, is a reality. It's managed to sneak up from abut 13km when it started  to 16km!

Here's Elle and I from last year - or the year before - it's all a blur. But I think this year will the most memorable as my training has been less than exemplary.

I have been walking a lot - most mornings for an hour - and running once a week or two. Let's see how that works shall we??

I was lamenting this my sister-in-law who reminded me that some years ago, she shot out of the blocks of the 5km course with great gusto but quickly descended into an injured limp. Afterwards, she popped up the the Royal Children's Hospital (coincidentally the beneficiary of this run) to see George. 

Are you alright, KB? He inquired. You seem to be struggling.

He always was perceptive!

So slack have I been, that I've barely put out the call for team members. I'm not even going to disgrace George and Jaz by wearing their T-shirt. Anonymous black will do it. There's absolutely no need to draw attention to myself!

Anyway, as I see it, every minute that passes is a minute closer to it.... being over!!

Teenage Binge Drinking

Eleanor will be 16 in just over a month and we have tried to keep her alcohol consumption fairly contained.

The current advice is to avoid any consumption prior to 16 due to the impact on brain development. I'm not sure if it's 16 because the impact is reduced after that or if it's 16 because that's probably as long as you can possibly string it out....anyhow, we haven't been totally strict but we haven't done too badly either.

But I think we may have stumbled across a possible deterrent for teenage binge drinking. Although in truth, it's expensive.

The types of occasions when we have allowed Elle to partake in a glass of something have tended to be significant - my 50th, Mum's 80th, when our gorgeous George would have been 21, an extended family get together - that type of thing. So accordingly, the alcohol has also been in the more special category. There's been French champagne for birthdays and some lovely reds.

In fact, some close friends gave us a bottle of Penfold's Grange when George died, aged 19, to be drunk on his 21st - a perfect gesture. So on the day, we invited the friends over and shared the most amazing wine I think I've ever had - and we let Elle have a splash.

The following week, I took Elle to an amateur performance of A Chorus Line at a local high school. (My friend Steven was in it and was so good he sadly made everyone else look a tad ... well, amateur. But I digress.) Anyway...at interval, I bought a plastic glass of shiraz.

'Can I have a sip, please?' asked Elle.
'Just a sip....' I said handing over the disposable vessel.
She had a sip and her face scrunched up so tightly it resembled a cat's bottom.
'That's horrible!' she gasped.... and the penny dropped.

She's now been so spoilt she doesn't care for cheap alcohol and I'm thinking her budget won't be stretching to Bolly for a long time yet!!!

Bingo.

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!

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!)

A Year

What's a year? 365 days. The time it takes planet earth to chug a lap around the sun? A real measure, but still arbitrary in many ways.

George died on September 30th last year. And on September 30th this year, I didn't want to dwell on it.
I didn't want to recall in painful details, the hideous decision and even more hideous process of withdrawing life support. And just because the earth was sitting in the same position it was when in happened, does that matter? Does that mean you have to be contemplative? I decided no.

It's not that I don't think of George every day and the little things about him. The fact that he took his top off every night to go to sleep - summer, winter, camping - he was just that kind of guy. Even the shape of his fingernails is very clear to me - and I hope I can maintain that detail into old age. I just didn't feel more or less pained by his loss at the 365-day mark than I did at 364 or 366.

My sister-in-law Karen sent me this photo of all the cousins on Geoff's side. I love it. You can almost see the personalities of these kids as they are now, more than 10 years later.  It was so typical of George to be holding the baby - in this case, the youngest cousin at the time, Michael. (Yes, Sass was yet to be then. Karen has suggested we Photoshop her in!)

L-R: Back - Eliza, Eleanor, Jazzy, George & Michael, Timothy, James. Front - Stephanie, Claire, Jack.  2003

So to repeat the poignant text of my friend Annie from Paris, a year after Jazzy died - time goes quickly, times goes slowly.

How right she is.

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....

Poverty and George's Charity

Did you see Four Corner's last Monday night? Here's the link to iView - if you can handle it. It made me cry.

You might recall I once posted about unethical consumption - the $10.5 billion a year Australia spends on food we don't eat, clothes we don't wear, books we don't read, downloads we don't listen to - it might be a timely reminder for us all to think about that as we watch these people on Four Corners struggle to feed their kids, find accommodation and just make ends meet.

Another thing that struck me in this program was how two of the three spokespeople who work with this disadvantaged group are women. I'm sure the actual split in the sector is even more strongly skewed. Had the story been on financial success instead of financial failure, I wonder what that gender split would be?

Anyway, enough of my left-wing, feminist ranting.

Also this weekend, other than upsetting myself with social injustice, I also packed up all George's clothes. It was bound to happen. Elle is home for the holidays and she and Sass decided they wanted their own rooms and for the first time of course, that's possible. But to make space, ten months after George died, I was compelled to finally make a decision about what to do with his clothes that have sat, unworn, in the wardrobe ever since.

When Jaz died, as the oldest of the three girls, her wardrobe and possessions simply merged in with the rest of the stuff the girls had and used, so we hadn't had to face this milestone. We agreed to pack up his clothes - but the actual doing fell to me.

It was a heartbreaking task. One I wept my way through. Folding each of his Ts, hoodies and jeans, boardies and PJs, shirts and chinos, runners and boots. Each item reminding me that he is no longer here to wear them. I put his footy jumpers, baseball cap collection, his electric blue loafers and a few other favourite things into a tub to store in the attic.

I knew there was no need to get rid of anything. It could all go into the attic and I could deal with it later - weeks, months or years later. But somehow I realised that it didn't matter when this day was - it was going to be just as difficult.

So Geoff and I decided today was the day - spurred on by Four Corners and the reality that so many have so little. A warm parker might just be the ticket. We could have passed his things on to family and friends, but in truth, I don't want to see them wearing it - it's just a reminder that George should be here. Geoff and Sass took a special trip to the St Kilda Mission to drop it off. And now it's done.

There is much consolation knowing that George was very charitable and thoughtful and would have been pleased with the decision.

I still miss him - and Jaz - every day.

20 Years Ago Tonight

Today is June 11th. Twenty years ago, I was 39 weeks pregnant. It was a Friday in 1993. I had just had my farewell presentation and drinks at Leo Burnett - the agency I was working for. Having been presented with a big cane laundry basket over flowing with baby bits and consumed a couple of Diet Cokes, I went home at about 9pm and started feeling crappy. I had a bath, went into labour, got to the hospital about 12.30am and had George 90 minutes later.

My gorgeous baby boy.

Tomorrow, he would have been 20.

Had he still been with us, I can't imagine life would be going well. We was due for more spinal surgery in October last year - and you might recall, he almost didn't make it through the first operation in February.

He would have finished school and frankly, the options after that weren't great. The day facility I had chosen was due to the energy and philosophy of the woman in charge. When I rang last last year to say George had died, I was told she had left.

Had George not had NPC, I'm sure tomorrow would have been very different again. He would have been at uni, had a girlfriend I'm sure and be hanging out with his mates. But that's not how life turned out, was it. Powder Finger was on my iPod on the treadmill this afternoon; these days turned out nothing like I had planned. I'm not much of planner - but I certainly didn't imagine this day 20 years ago.

My mum knitted this cardi for George's Christening (yes, we are atheists - that's a story for another time)  - it's so tiny, he wore it when he was three months old. Mum also gave me the sapphire ring - blue for a boy.

And here's yet another amazing video my friend Sarah put together for his 18th - a great party! George didn't like seeing video of himself as a younger kid - I think it reminded him of his fading ability - so Sarah skillfully used stills for that part of his life. She cut it to one of his favourite bands, The Killers, Warning to show that regardless of his ability, he didn't hold back.

I'm having trouble embedding it because it does use a Killer's song, so here's the YouTube link.

We'll send up a lantern tomorrow morning to wish George a happy birthday and then I'm off to Thailand for work. More about that to come!

PS I didn't get this one proof read - timing is of the essence - sorry in advance.

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.

Creche vs Nanny?

Creche kids

As a mother who works (I'm unusually on topic today!) all my kids went to creche from between 3 and 4 months old. (I've posted before about my shamefully short maternity leave stints.)

When it comes to childcare, there's no single, ideal solution. It was a topic often discussed at the office with mums - current, pending and contemplating.

A nanny gives you the freedom to run out the door in the morning and just leave the kids and the chaos. Out of home care means you need to have gotten those kids dressed, fed, bags packed, house tidy (if you're anything like me), yourself looking respectable and all in the car - often by 7.30am. And of course, during certain phases, add a breast feed in to that mix!

If the nanny is sick, you need to make other arrangements. If the carer at creche is sick it's not your problem, they'll make other arrangements.

Nanny's can pick up where you left off. Creche is a whole different environment. And for me, that was part of my decision. I actually didn't want someone in my house with my kids doing my 'mothering'. That's about me, not a judgement on anyone else's choice.

The other key consideration is cost. It's hard to go past the value of creche - which includes snacks, hot lunch and music and movement classes. You did pay extra for computer gym. At our creche they even had a visiting hairdresser and you paid about $6 for a trim! A nanny is not only more expensive by the hour but all your home bills go up as well. Again, for many, the flexibility is worth it.

A nanny will also do chores, good ones will do laundry and some even cook. Some will do grocery shopping, take the kids to appointments and swimming classes - really take the pressure off - so I can see the appeal.

When George and Jaz were small, we also raided the creche for babysitters, which proved to have another huge advantage - we knew what was going on with the staff and owners. Not just in a gossipy sense (although that's always interesting!) but to find out how the kids and staff are being treated and getting on when you're not there. We had an incident with baby Jaz when I'd asked them not to carry her around all day (she was irresistibly adorable, but not helpful when I got home and needed to cook dinner). When I arrived to collect her and George, another carer asked me to clarify the instructions - Jaz had had a miserable day and knowing us well, the carer didn't think I could possibly have meant not to pick her up at all. She was right! Could a nanny have also misinterpreted that and I'd never have known?

At drop off, like the others when they were there, Sass was welcomed daily with enthusiasm, "Goooood morning Saskia! What would you like to do today?" I often wished that was I was greeted like that at work - but my response may have been that I'd like to go home now thank you.

Given the age gap between the kids, Sass started creche when George started high school. 'Do you miss creche?' I asked George. 'Those were the good ol' days...' he replied with more than a hint of longing.

Even this week as we drove past creche, Elle reminisced wistfully about the fun and freedom of her days at creche. And of course the afternoon nap.

I know creche isn't for everyone. I was blatantly criticised by some of my non-working friends. But it worked for us.

But what do you think? Please do post a comment - it's very quite on the comment front..... :(

(PS - Yes Sass is in a Christening gown - it was a family heirloom that we popped on her while it fitted and took some snaps. Unlike the other three, she's wasn't baptised. Another post perhaps....)

Five more things about George

George at 14 - nice faux hawk

1. When George moved to Glenallen School it was a huge shift. It was for Jaz too but George was now 14 and moving from a local school where he'd just finished year 8. He absolutely embraced the change from regular school to a school with extremely special kids - which for the uninitiated, can be extremely confronting. So much so, that in his first year there, he was awarded the Courage Award.


2. He did like nice clothes despite pretty much being a jeans, T-shirt and sneaker kind of guy. But here's a pair of very snappy loafers he got last Christmas. He was very happy with them.

3.  George was six weeks younger than my friend's daughter Daisy. But being a girl she did always seem more mature. 'Daisy,' George would lament, 'you're such an adult!'

4. Being five and half years younger than George, Elle was often quite a disruption. "Eleanor you ruined our family!' he'd often yell at her. I did point out that that was not very nice.

5. Lunch at friends - and because George was the oldest of all the kids and a bit of a fave of our hosts, they allowed him to spray paint his initials on the inside of their shed door! He was so thrilled. It's still there. Thanks Brenda xxx.

A stranger - the other perspective

So my last post was about a stranger who was no help at all. But it got me thinking about other strangers who have been enormously touching.

While in Modesto, where George has been airlifted, I went to a T Mobile shop to buy more credit for the phone. The gorgeous girl in the shop - of JLo-like beauty - was fascinated by a tourist in her home town.
'How come you're in Modesto', she asked?
'Oh, we're just driving around in our RV, having a look', I deflected.
'How long are you here?' she asked, again amazed that anyone would be more than passing through. She was so lovely I decided to come clean.
'Actually, our son is in the hospital and we're not sure how long we'll be here', I admitted.
'How's he doing?' she asked, probably thinking broken limb.
'Not great. He's on life support.' Her shock was visible.
'Oh my god, I am so sorry', she offered with sincerity. 'Seriously, if you need anything - if you want to know where to eat or need a park or anything - come by the shop. This is Travis,' she said, introducing her colleague behind the counter, 'he'll be here tomorrow, but I'm here all next week. But if you need anything, please, just call.'

She handed me a card with her name - Angel.

The Letter

Sass came home tonight with a letter for us that had been addressed via her school. I recognised the hand writing immediately. This person wrote to us when Jaz died and I was so angry at the time I threatened to write back. I'm a tad more mellow this time, but my annoyance is still piqued.

Why? Because not only did this person not know George and Jaz, they don't know us. He cheerfully admits he gleaned our details from the death notices in the newspaper. You may think I'm being harsh about a well meaning stranger, but I find it objectionable and completely self-serving that this man chooses to quote chunks of the bible at us and suppose that he has any understanding of what we're going through. The entire letter is dripping with his own purpose - not ours.

"What I am writing is rather than a few nice words [sic], is what I have found has helped me under similar circumstances when my parents dies." Not even close, buddy.

"Although thought by many to be obsolete in this day and age, The Bible has the answers as to where the dead are and what the future holds for them and us." How does 'fuck off' sound?

"Having told you of my care and concern, I will not write again [thank Christ!!!] however if you feel I can be of any help, please do not hesitate to let me know." All contacted details provided. I was thinking of contacting him and telling him what I think, but then I remembered I am trying to be more gracious.

And finally, the icing on this cake: "PS I must apologise for using the computer for this personal letter [soooo personal - it's the exact same letter he sent when Jazzy died] because my disability makes it painful to write for any length of time." Mate, I'll tell you about disability - and it's a hell of lot worse that a sore hand.

Now never mind that we're non-believers as I've blogged about before, but the whiff of self-serving superiority and righteousness is down-right nauseating. This letter is NOT about us. It's about 'Richard' making himself feel like a top bloke for being so caring and sharing. And that's what makes me so god-damned angry.

I was reminded of the time I foolish allowed some unknown nutter at Chadstone say a prayer for Jaz. He'd clearly singled her out because of her disability. That alone should have been cause enough for me to tell him to fuck off too. And had I know he was going to fall to his knees, gripping the wheel of her chair like it was his last salvation, as we stood in the queue for New Zealand Natural Ice-Cream and loudly start chanting - no, actually, ranting - I would never have agreed. I should have gather up my flock and wheeled off. But no, shocked, we endured minutes of this torture, this public demonstration of his 'goodness' and god-fearing, heart-felt sincerity as Jaz sat there, looking both bewildered and yes, sorry for him! Never the less,I should never have allowed her to be subjected to that.

Am I wrong??

(Please do try and post them on the comments section below, or sign up for Disqus, it's painless.)

Ten Things About George

George was a remarkable guy. If you had the privilege to have known him, some of these will be familiar. For others, it'll give you more of a sense of who he was.

1. George went through a stage of answering the phone with 'Yo!' Nothing else. He thought it was hilarious. His grandparents didn't understand it at all.

2. 'Keep the change you filthy animal' was a line from the movie Home Alone that he latched on to for a while... which was extremely awkward if we were out and he was buying something. He tended to 'toss the granade' and then disappear leaving me to face the strange looks from the person behind the counter.

3. Through Make A Wish, George got to meet the Killers. He asked how they met. Ronnie (drummer) said it was at karaoke at a gay bar. "Really?" asked George, mesmerised. "No!" said Ronnie, kindly. Brandon Flowers, the lead singer had not been overly engaged at the meet and greet. Fair enough I thought, right before he had to go on stage and perform. But he dedicated the last song of the show, "When We Were Young" to George in front of thousands of people. I nearly cried.

4. Had a bad habit of saying 'sorry' and apologising when I needed to take him to the toilet, get him dressed, get him into bed. 'Bad' because it broke my heart and he kept doing it - despite my pleading that there was no need to be because I certainly wasn't sorry, he persisted.

5. His favourite meal - before he started being tube fed in April - was a roast. He also ate ice cream nearly every day -and was still as thin as a string bean.

6. He loved Dr Who, Torchwood, Smallville, The Simpsons

7. He loved books. We spent hours together while I read him the Harry Potter series, the Alex Rider series, all the Skulduggery Pleasance books, The Hunger Games, Eragon and Gone - amongst others. What a privileged to have spent that time together with such a shared interest.

8. He love playing Call Of Duty 2: Modern Warfare. He played on line and was shot regularly with that splattering of blood on the inside of the computer screen. He rarely killed or came close to wounding anyone, but he loved playing anyway. Even when his ability to control the mouse and keyboard were tenuous, he played.

9. He loved an action movie. He loved going to the movies, the drive inn, or watching a DVD at home.

10. George was extremely humble and had no idea of the enormous impact his charm left on everyone who met him.

It's been 8 weeks today and I still can't believe he's gone. Love you George.

Organ Donor-ing

I was reminded by one of George's teachers that he told one of the blind kids at his school, “Damian, when I die you can have my eyes.”

He always was generous.

We were asked to consider organ donation for George in the States - specifically his kidneys -  and we agreed. Then after an assessment, they decided he was ineligible after all.

I almost wondered why they didn't start with the assessment... but I guess that may come across as being pushy.

Organ donation is a huge gift and one I'm sure George would have been proud to make.

For Australians, I am a supporter of 'opt out' rather than our current system of 'opt in' for organ donation.

So while it's top of mind, if you're not an organ donor and think you should be, jump on and register  here now.

If George could be that generous, we all can be.

George - at about 15

Mother's Day

I had planned on running the Mother’s Day Classic, another of those oxymoron Fun Runs, but when asked Elle a couple of weeks back, she was non-committal. (I'm not even sure why I was asking here - she beat me in the recent Run For The Kids - but only by 3 minutes.) Time went on. Earlier this week she asked if I’d signed her up….

I checked the website to see if we could register on the day and it didn’t seem so. I then checked the weather and saw it was 12 degrees and raining. All’s well that ends well, I say!

So I woke up at about 9.15am, ripped into my pressies including a very stylish travel glass complete with a range of gourmet teas, a beautiful bowl of cyclamens and these amazing paintings by George.

Aren't they beautiful!

I then went off to the study to do my own Mother’s Day Classic on the treadmill while Elle prepared brunch. She had actually walked to supermarket yesterday and hidden the various ingredients in the fridge in the shed – and under her bed! But check it out – who needs to go out??

Eleanor's Mother's Day brunch - it was as good as it looks!

Having said that, we then did go out for afternoon yum cha with the cousins – we’ll be guzzling water for the next 3 days!

I know Mother’s Day is all about telling your mum how great she is, but I’m happy to tell anyone who listens how great my kids are.

Happy Mother’s Day everyone.

The Conspiracy Theory

So, here I am, Saturday night of the Easter break and I’m at home. Not camping. At home.

The plan was that George would be out of hospital Wednesday – Thursday at the latest. We had friends coming for dinner Thursday night and we’d pack up on Friday and head of to Nagambiefor a week's camping. It had taken me months of nagging to get a site at The Nagambie Lakes Caravan Park and Resort. Most places are booked out a year in advance for Easter – but around September last year I got the exciting email from the delightful Fiona at the front desk to say we were in!

Wednesday arrives. I get to the hospital in the afternoon, fully expecting to take George home….but no, the doctor barely makes eye contact as she tells me they’d really rather he stayed. ‘Until tomorrow?’ I ask hopefully. No, they’d rather he stayed in a bit longer actually – maybe a few days more.

The physio had been in earlier and said she was worried how George would go getting in and out of the tent. ‘We have a two room tent – you just walk in, you don’t crawl,’ I said. She was also worried how he’d go sleeping on the ground. ‘We have bunk beds – he’d be on the bottom one – as close to the floor as he is here on the special hi-lo bed’. We’re just not sure how you’ll go, walking him on uneven surfaces. ‘It’s a resort caravan park – the roads and paths will be paved!’

Call me suspicious but after all these objections and the multiple references to ‘we’, I am seriously smelling more than a whiff of conspiracy.

George was allowed home for the day today. “On the promise that you will not be whipping up to Nagambie” said the on-duty doctor whom I have never even met before. My theory is gaining momentum.

‘Mum, why did you even mention it?’ said Eleanor. ‘You could have just said in passing as we were leaving that’s what we were doing.” Yes, all very well in hindsight, isn’t it??

What do you think; conspiracy or coincidence?