Going It Solo

1 Adult, 1 Dog (my 4th baby), 3 Kids and 930km round trip of highway.

Nothing is impossible!

The trip started off with miserable weather,

but that didn't stop the kids having fun,

 and spending quality time with their Nanny and Boo Boo.

We managed some time however breif it was in the sand and surf.

To see Grandpa who is much better and moving about a little more each day.

Fixed my punctured tyre, thanks to an anonymous nail,

Finished my book,

Relaxed,

Go carted,

Easter egg/treasure map hunted

Ate good food,

 Played mah-jong

And let the Kids run around the farm, breathing in fresh air, streching there lungs an legs, and enjoying the freedom of space. 

It was Murphy's law that the best weather was as we headed home.

I was quietly suprised that the traffic was quiet considering how close to the end of school holidays It was, I was expecting a lot of congestion and delays.

I can not fault the kids on there travel performance, even if one more pit (pee) stop was going to reduce me to wimpering heap, but I'm blessed with 3 excellent travelllers, they have been well seasoned since they we're born, travelling from the N.T down to VIC every year, and I am glad to say they were just angels to travel with yet again.

I'm not new to travelling long distances solo with 3 kids and a dog, but this has been my longest journey so far, and remarkably the easiest trip I've made.

 But I think this has to do more with the kids age then my experience.

As a defence wife I've never been one to sit around and wait for good things to happen in the hands of others, like holidays approved, time off, or wishful promises,

 because I know from experience that it just doesnt happen like that, I've learn't the hard way, the kind that envolves, heartache, screaming mactches, and worst of all the sorrowful eyes of little children looking questionlying "but why".

I learnt that If I didn't take the bull by the horn my kids would miss out and so would I, and whilst I know it sounds selfish leaving my husband at home alone fending for himself  and slaving away at work while we're away on holidays having a blast, if he had time off we'd have him with us in a heart beat. 

Limitations are only restrictions we put on ourselves.

I know there will be a lot more trip in the near distance future. I know I can do it, and nothing will stop me.  

Why Begin Blogging Again???

Why did I start blogging again?

I originally started blogging for the same reasons most bloggers started blogging, to stay in touch and share their life with family and friends.

At the time I created my blog I was living in the Northern Territory, a newly petrified mother, isolated from her parents living in Stuarts Point NSW and her in laws in Wodonga VIC, so naturally without the modern technology of face book nowadays I blogged, updates, family photo’s, baby milestones, adventures and major events.

But as we all do, we got busy, the kids with growing up and school, I with studying and working, Hubby with globetrotting, deployments and work, I just didn’t have the time or energy to blog, and then I got sick.

My sickness (if that’s what you’d call it) requires a mountain of medications, and some of those as a glorious side affect are affecting my memory.

It’s just little things here and there at the moment that are becoming a struggle to remember, but it’s alarming when I can’t remember what I packed the kids on their sandwiches for lunch not 30mins before, or what I was saying mid sentence (on a bad day if interrupted) let alone their achievements and success from a whole school year, or special outing we’ve shared together as a family.

So I felt the strong obligation to start journaling and blogging again, mainly for myself, so I can look back and bitch slap my memory from time to time, but also the added benefit of my family whom we’ve been separated from again to experience our adventures more “in-depth” then just the odd facebook photo.

So there you have it, I’m not blogging for fame or fortune, or even my own egotistical need to be wanted, accepted or popular, sadly it’s due to own medical induced forgetfulness that my life’s journaling reignited.

How unexciting.  

Which Side?

Welcome to my side of the bed!

Every morning I am blinded by streams of sunlight pouring through this useless window.

It servers no purpose what so ever in this corner of the house other than to piss me off and mock my lack of sleep.

Now normally I wouldn't mind, it's my alarm clock to get up and begin the daily routine of waking the kids, school lunches, breakfast, uniforms ready, backpacks... yad yad yad.

But its school holidays!

I have no rush to get up, I can lay in bed while the kids scream about the house, play in there rooms, or simply watch T.V.

 I have no need to fly out of bed unless the words "Scissors" are used in a sentence or things go "to quiet"

It's school holidays when I have no requirement or need to get up at 7am so why does the sun still taunt me through this window.

I picked this side of the bed purely because it was closest to the exit if I was needed for the kids in the middle of the night, and closets to the bathroom.

It was all about priorities, (stuffed those up)

Is it to late to swap sides?

Have you ever swapped sides of the bed?

    

Sports Of Sorts

It's every fathers dream to have their son play some sort of man to man contact, sweaty, chase a ball, beastly sport, whether it be AFL, Rugby, cricket, union, soccer or something similar.

Well my house hold is no different, my husband isn't one of those "weekend warrior must watch football" fans, nor does he play any sports aside from the compulsory Defence Force PT sessions but we are an active family, and we both wanted the kids to play some sort of sport.


Since moving we have tried to find something for Miss Moo and Master Z to do as extracurricular activities that suited our family budget and fitted in with our routines, but we also wanted to give the kids a choice as well, I mean they were the ones doing the activities right.

Finding something for Miss Moo was easier than expected, we kind of stumbled upon a dance physie group advertised through Master Ty’s day-care that suited her flamboyant charm to a T and at $80 a term we were happy as well.


Master Z was a little harder, but as his choice mattered he opted for karate, So we gave it a shot, after one session which he did quite well, and the weeks that followed it was evident this was not the sport for him, you see Master Z didn't understand that just because he had learnt to Defend himself didnt mean when his younger brother got too much for him to handle that it was ok to karate kick and chop away at until he was rendered a defenceless huddled heap in a corner screaming for his mum.


No matter how many talks we had with him, explaining the pros and con's, and do's, don't, and most importantly why's, Master Z seemed to think this was the best way to deal with his emotions.


Now I'm a Special Educational Aide, I deal with being hit, kicked, punched, spat on, sworn at all day long and know that it is all expressive language, no matter how you look at it, it is language in some form, But my son, who is newly 8 has never used violence as a form of language in my house hold never! Yes he has screamed and cried, had numerous melt downs, but never has he hit his siblings in rage or angst before, so to see this behaviour after one karate session, ONE session, no way was he going back.


So the search continued,

but there wasn't much around, Master Z insisted on soccer but the last time he played he ended in tears due to accidentally getting kicked in the shin, not because it hurt but because master Z didn't understand that sort of accident is what happens in that sort of game, but he thought the child didn't like him, and refused to go back to play, and upon reminding him of that and going over the rules of the game, the “nervous Nelly” (as I call it) in him opted out.


So this week at their school assembly, a wonderful representative from the Giants got up and announced the NAB AFL Aus Kick program that was starting up soon, I listened as he explained to the whole school what the program was all about, and found myself in awe of how engaged he had the whole entire school hall full of kids listening and chuckled at how envious the teachers must be.


But I paid no attention to details from the moment he mentioned “various sports” as Master Z is strict with routines would have none of that I thought to myself for sure, I mean at home if you say you’re doing something, you do it, if you write something down, it’s going to be done, (he is the best shopping list recaller) if I say were going in the car he has to know were or there will be tears, change causes so much anxiety for such a boy it is hard to fathom at times, I myself suffer from anxiety and I know as an adult how debilitating it can be let alone being a child with no control of their own lives, depending on others for everything.


So I was gobsmacked when he came to me that afternoon saying how awesome it would be if he could attend.


I left it a few days to see if the novelty would wear off, but after various chats of the reality of the program he still wanted to continue with registration, he didn’t waiver, even despite knowing it wouldn’t just be AFL games, and as far as I knew he wouldn't know anyone there (hell I wouldn't know anyone there we only just moved here)


So I did it, I paid the fee’s and signed him up. (I took solace in the fact both hubby was volunteering to help out and I could be down there cheering him on)


 April the 22^nd is his first day.


 So it seems I might have to find my folding chair and thermos and get ready to cheer my boy along at the bitter hour of 8:30am everyday Sunday morning if all goes to plan.  

Cleanliness Is Next To Godliness

I’m a self confessed clean freak, I’m far from ashamed of it, I have 3 kidlets all armed with a pair of sticky hands and grubby feet and boy oh boy do my lot know how to use them.

General mess doesn’t faze me, I hate cleaning as much as the best of us but I love nothing better than that clean feeling you get from scrubbing those marks off a wall or mopping the floors that once felt slightly gritty under foot.

Personal hygiene however is a huge thing in my house hold, washing hands is a must, showers an baths every night, hair washed every 3 days, and for those that have kids will probably have one of those “ahhh” moment’s right about now, nails!

Bloody nails! finger nails and toe nails, nothing makes my skin crawl any more than feeling a little ones finger nails or toe nails scrape against my skin, it’s like nails to a chalk board for me I can’t stand it.  If I discover one of my kidlets with long nails, immediate tactical response must be taken to rectify the situation.

It’s gross, and I know where my kids have been, my reaction is worse with other people’s kids, so much so it causes a gag reflex (I know rude right) imagine being me standing there like here sweetie would you like a lolly, kid takes lolly only for me to begin gagging, imagine what the parents of this poor child are thinking.

Safe to say my whole house hold is well manicured.       

Parent Teacher Interviews

I'm sure every parent dreads parent teacher interviews, or at least has some sort of apprehension going into them; no parent wants to hear their child is lagging behind or they need extra work, or the worst of their child is disruptive...

 As a mother of a child who is on the Autistic spectrum I dread these days even more.

I knew we would breeze through Miss Moo's interview she's a bright little spark, popular with all the other girls, a social butterfly some would say, top level for reading, comprehension, maths, writing content is spot on, the only constructive thing her teacher said was her writing was "a little flicky" but that comes from her first year in the Victorian school system, and it's slowly improving on its own.

Miss Moo's teachers comment was she could have 24 of Miss Moo in her class and it would be perfect. I know Miss Moo's teachers eccentric, but 24 of my daughter you'd have to be bloody mad.

Walking over to Master Z's class I asked if there was anything he should confess before we got there, I got no last minute admissions of guilt, not that I really expected one.

Now the thing with my boy is, academically he is brilliant, I’ve never really had to worry, he doesn't struggle but he’s no child genius, he is happily somewhere in the middle plodding along for his age.

But socially, and this is where the autism comes into play, he just out right doesn’t get it.

Master Z is what I'd say, is an awkward child, for me I love it, it makes him unique, but most parents and there “normal” children don't necessarily understand him, and sadly don’t want to take the time to, so they just ignore him, leaving him outcast.

The conversation that took place that night during our parent teacher interview still have me reeling, I’ve partially digested information only to bring it back up again, sift through it and digest again (graphic I know but that’s how it is) here I was at 7pm (with a splitting migraine) sitting across the desk from a bubbly teacher whom looked no older than myself expecting her to tell me the usual stuff I hear about Master Z, how he was a quiet student, a pleasure, sometime withdrawn,  produced great work but took his time about it, yahdah yahdah yahdah. But what she said floored me, made me sit up straight and fight back tears.  

Master Z had (after sometime) befriended one of the classes more “popular” kids.

 Now when I say popular what I mean to say loud, rowdy, boisterous, mischievous, some would dare say naughty kids in the class.

Now from my understanding this young lad comes with his own set of issues, some I’ve seen so many times before with my field of work as a special education aide, and majority of these kids appear rough but have hearts of gold and are just looking for someone to care (I have a soft spot for these kids I really do).

 But my boy is my boy and I’m his mother I protect and guide him, he doesn’t have the regular coping social skills of other children, but only just finding out now of this up and down flourishing relationship, I was little help. So I listened very intently.

 Turns out this kid has heart and is the confidence my son doesn’t know he lacks and the confidence and freedom of innocence I wish he had.

This kid lead my son, my quiet, meek, skinny bag of bones, never break a rule boy on his birthday along with the whole entire class on a conga line through the classroom just because it was his birthday and he thought he should, the smile couldn’t be wiped from Master Z’s face, Master Z has confidence with class for oral talks, he no longer feels nervous amidst his peers.

He even feels free enough to be cheeky and turn around during class work and chat to (disturbs) other students.

I know they say a bad influence is not a good influence but if it gives my boy the confidence and freedom to express himself any influence is a good influence.

Although the teacher and I (thankfully she was on the same page) are keeping a close eye on things and I have strong faith in Master Z's strong values of what is right and wrong, for the time being I think it's a good thing.

An Old Hand.

I'm not new to the world of blogging, not by a long shot, I use to blog some years ago, but as life goes for all of us and mine was no different it got busy with kids, school, study, sickness, daily mundane tasks, a few removals, and some momentous family events to balance things out. As time has rolled on, and the kids are settling in there respective new schools I have the time I longed for to blog, journal and document our most treasured memories.