tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38935048119210897892023-11-16T07:59:34.135-08:00The Oz Reportlesserweevilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109055589386485566noreply@blogger.comBlogger626125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3893504811921089789.post-39284033839115189042022-03-02T14:56:00.001-08:002022-03-02T14:56:03.256-08:00Once again it has been awhile. 2022 has hit us almost with a bigger shock wave than 2021. The latest on the news is widespread flooding across Eastern Australia plus of course the war in the Ukraine. It all puts any issues we might have into the insignificant box. The last weekend, a significant portion of SEQLD flooded - and we were lucky to get away with a damp laundry and some water damaged wood in the garage. We had spent the weekend in Tasmania visiting Dave’s daughter, and our trip home was affected by the weather - we got diverted into the Gold Coast, had to take a bus from there to Brisbane, and then drive home a very round about way to avoid all of the flooded roads. But we did get home safely, and all was well. <div><br></div><div>We are now looking in to booking our flights to UK/Ireland for July/August and feeling nervous about not only possible Covid disruptions but also war in Europe. Could it spread? Could we be heading into WWIII? Nobody knows at this point. And other than all of that our biggest issue is trying to work out how to get a car seat in London Heathrow! </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_d635_f91_9107_5316" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/_mS1EPJpa5OQVAzyi82LqDCLPzuo4OUhNd02pjkp_2AV8xIydc52DYd3BwY2cr5X2e0" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><i>Watching the rain fall down </i></div>lesserweevilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109055589386485566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3893504811921089789.post-88421761835256890572021-12-14T12:33:00.001-08:002021-12-14T12:33:09.841-08:00The banshee <div><br></div><div><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Mum guilt is the worst. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Getting up yesterday, I felt guilty that E had spent the previous day at daycare and had only 1 day with me before going back for 2 more daycare days… I was so determined to be a fun mum and have a fun day with my little nugget.</span></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Unfortunately the little nugget had other plans. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We started by going outside and playing with bubbles - which she then wanted to hold, saying “turn! Turn! Turn!” Trying to convince her that I would hold the base while she held the wand were unsuccessful, after which she dumped the bubble solution out everywhere, and completely melted down about “BUBBLES!” <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I suggested that we do some painting, and she very enthusiastically cried “Pent! Pent! Pent-ing “ while I got it all set up. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A few brush strokes on the paper and a few on her belly and she lost interest, so I got the hose. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She enjoyed pouring the water on the paint for a little bit and then started crying for bubbles again.</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Sorry love, the bubbles are all gone. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Cue extreme meltdown and it was only about 8am. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We tried a bath… she cried for bubbles the entire time, and then announced “poo poo” so we very quickly got out and got a nappy on before she followed through! (Success!)</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">At this point, it was really getting hot outside and no shade on the patio so I suggested we play inside. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Nope, she wanted bubbles. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And chips (“dippies”) so I got her chips, which she screamed at and flung on the floor, so I got her water bottle, which she flung angrily out of my hands. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She didn’t want to play with her play couch, or read a book, or play with anything except for bubbles and a) too hot outside b) there were no bubbles left!!!</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">By 9:45 I took her to a quiet room to try to calm her hysterical screaming, and she fell asleep… waking by 1015 which was terrible as it meant no later nap at all. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She immediately started screaming for bubbles again, and to go “ousside”. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I tried all sorts of distractions, shall we go in the car? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Finally at 12 we did go in the car and I drove around aimlessly for an entire hour trying to get her to sleep again. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She screamed for “tinkle” (twinkle twinkle little star) and screamed louder and more angrily if I put it on, and all in general made me want to either run away forever, or hide in a dark corner and never come back out. </span></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">When we got home, I gathered up all of our swimming stuff, while she watched Cocomelon, fed it lunch (it screamed) and we headed out to Redcliffe to the lagoon (tinkle tinkle bubbles BUBBLES!!!) but although it was 30 degrees it was also windy so she only lasted about 20 mins in the pool - but at least that was 20 mins during which she wasn’t screaming at me. </span></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><img id="id_89dc_a899_5853_22b2" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/XixBPjR2KPuar5psm93Kp8uG4qzaL1QJDltSEMPfcLyLLB7zYVPvKbAi3fgoxfl-RS0" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">After that, it was after 3, so I figured we may as well stay in Redcliffe for the afternoon, get fish and chips and come back for an early bedtime. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>E decided she wanted to push the wagon and then started screaming and melting down because I videoed her pushing the wagon.</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><img id="id_e08c_998e_8442_a223" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/ixu5Jos1SeGDPSxptm07J-XyVD_KDyfr47wwXQvdN7DZrtGHoyAsO0vatc_EW2fJBUw" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">She then melted down because she didn’t want to ride in the wagon any more and wanted a cuddle (“duddle”) to which I obliged… and then David who had joined us took her to give my back a break… and she screamed and screamed hysterically for Mummy. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>So I took her back so he could go and get takeaway fish and chips because we couldn’t dine in with THAT noise, and she screamed DADDY DADDY DADDDYYYYYYY because he walked away.</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">It was that kind of day.</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><img id="id_d626_4d1a_47d4_d524" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/rDSKzsB5Ut-7oKue_q9GV13__DRa50_FyDRiBV0HXtEchNqTkG3YGgQ8tbXBVtEDQaI" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br>Yet here I am with real live pictures of her seemingly having fun, which make a mockery of how the day actually went…<br><br></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Honestly by the time she was in bed asleep (half an hour early thankfully) I just flopped on the couch and lay there unmoving for 30 mins, without even the energy to scroll on my phone.</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">So here I am, it’s Wednesday, I am on call and my brat is at daycare and I am SO VERY THANKFUL for daycare and again tomorrow! <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It’s so quiet and no one is screaming at me. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>HURRAH!!!!!!!!</span></p></div>lesserweevilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109055589386485566noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3893504811921089789.post-91087322607647672792021-12-06T19:20:00.001-08:002021-12-06T19:20:21.437-08:00I am so very tired! E is just getting over gastro (still not sleeping though) and Dave now thinks he is getting it too, so wish us luck<div><br></div><div>While I rest my tried self on the outdoor couch, E is drizzling the hose into the sandpit and emptying her bubbles into the water tub so all fun and games… nope now she has added bark to the mix. YUM.</div><div><br></div><div>Anyway all to say I have no energy right now so I will come back later…<br><div><br></div><div><img id="id_2466_c4a_d6ca_fba" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/AwSgwz97mqTKm_0lHOqM_p97siBOwHp5d6rZRBNSnlE-XiZDTaIsVDXiR2JLK-pRCW8" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br></div></div>lesserweevilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109055589386485566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3893504811921089789.post-63519792268818267502021-11-16T14:11:00.001-08:002021-11-16T14:11:04.078-08:00One and done (and a bonus child!)<p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Not everyone’s journey to parenthood is an easy one. </span></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><img id="id_6452_4f0b_b92e_7a4" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/gwod4PT0NjN6vHiOFIpc5mtab6wCx7pUZjUKattiFretubiW_NUiWAqpkCIRM_6UFmg" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 348px; height: auto;"><br><i>Pics from yesterday’s jaunt to Nudgee Beach</i><br><br></p><p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I have just been listening to a podcast I enjoy, after a hiatus while they moved house, and this is a comment that stood out to me. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I do sometimes wonder what our family would look like if it WAS an easy journey - or indeed if it continued to be an easy journey rather than an every day uphill battle through babyhood and toddlerhood and all of the messes and tantrums and exhaustion that comes with it.</span></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><img id="id_f5fe_8c45_e65_21ed" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/sIBvZ0MNgeeOtZpeUtwzZEOhpEz3UBLRc4AT3s_zEHp_8FsCKq8wwZTD7oc_CjA4W1o" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><i>Where someone got horrifically muddy but had a great time</i><br><br></p><p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">But here we are, our family of 3 and very very occasionally a family of 4 when my bonus daughter comes to stay with us. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Last time she stayed was for E’s birthday in April, and she is coming again to share Christmas with us. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This is very much anxiety inducing for me - I don’t know what she enjoys at Christmas, what she is used to doing at Christmas, and I hope that what we offer will be good enough! <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I also worry about her relationship with E. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When she last met E (second time ever), E was very much still a baby, while now she is a toddler with Very Real Opinions and also Very Loud Opinions and I hope that they continue to bond - tough for a previously only child to have to share her dad also - and tough for my only child too! </span></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><img id="id_b8d3_39ca_6404_aea4" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/Uno-zdFPSQroNEDOvbwZaNgw81JVN22ENJYEFcNi5fIuEE1YqUs1fYz-49a2aGg7mss" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><i>playing in the holes left by sting rays </i><br><br></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></p><p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I didn’t intend this post to be about C’s trip but I guess that’s the way it is going. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She is arriving on Christmas Eve and staying with us for 10 days - which Dave has off as his uni closes over the Christmas period. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We have bought her a very nice Christmas present - unfortunately it is tech which made us twitch a little given how much tech she already has, but really we don’t get the chance to be involved very much with her life so it would be difficult for us - and for her - to change anything in just 10 days! <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>What is harder, for me, is that her “very nice” tech package is also very small size wise - while Emily’s presents are very bulky. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Will she try to compare? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Will she be jealous? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>How do we make both children equal, especially when C will be going home to a second lot of Christmas presents from her other family, which E will not have? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Can we make them equal? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Is it wrong? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>So much cause for my brain to go into hyperdrive anxiety mode! <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Part of me wonders whether we should give E part of her Christmas gifts on Christmas Eve before C arrives! </span><span class="s2">😂</span><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">. It’s not like E will know any better as she is still very small.</span></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></p><p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">And that, folks, is where my brain is at.</span></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br></p><p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Not really the statement I started this post with, but maybe I will expand on that some other time! </span></p> lesserweevilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109055589386485566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3893504811921089789.post-19620371465089504272021-10-20T13:18:00.001-07:002021-10-20T13:18:30.846-07:00A short update <div><br></div><div><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">It’s me again</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I got a little lost in my last post and not quite sure where to start again so you’ll have to bear with me and wait for the muse to come back. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Plus, I’m tired due to my toddler deciding it needs to wake all night and not nap properly. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The worst.</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><img id="id_4e79_b23a_45e2_c31b" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/0sf5tPYsVOQ8-qxBhAcAmEB78jqCbWc3AT5GZAzSA_1UkpvSs_sKkFId-GZFTOaVc44" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><div style="text-align: right;">“<i>Walking” the dog</i></div><br></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">We are currently working on upgrading the chair in the nursery - I had hoped that the old marketplace purchase would survive long enough for us to “get by”, but she shows no sign of being ready to discontinue nursing or being held to sleep, and our chair shows every sign of collapsing into a pile of sawdust on the spot.</span></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><div style="text-align: right;"><img id="id_827e_e5d_d19a_9b1b" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/_IOUHsGWyJw6YzMBl5MrLk2OUM2D18hk_c4V3mP6bpdLtUqwY3B2LYTaUnaDqNiJ-VM" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><i>Dancing in the post storm flood</i></div><br></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">In other news, I have finished my block of “rolling stand down” which means I should get my next pay - and I have 2 flying days rostered before the end of the month, so fingers crossed they don’t get cancelled again. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It sounds as though we will have more flying in November due to borders beginning to open between states. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>NSW have announced that they are opening international borders but QLD are staunchly waiting until 90% vaccinated so it will still be a few months before we can travel overseas. Mentally I am already preparing for this! </span></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">This is just a short post to say I am still here… maybe my muse is gone because I have cut down my calories. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Furiously trying to lose the baby weight 18 months post baby… it is HARD, folks. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>You have no idea how much I want to eat all of the carbs.</span></p></div>lesserweevilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109055589386485566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3893504811921089789.post-59340000261496515292021-09-28T16:14:00.003-07:002021-09-28T16:14:23.814-07:00Who we are Pt 1<p> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px;">How were you raised, and how has that affected who you are?</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px;"> </span> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px;">And, perhaps more importantly, how has it affected how you are raising (or have raised) your kid(s)?</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">These are questions that I am asking myself. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I think that in general my parents were good (great?) parents. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I think, as all humans, they had their faults, and in some ways I either act or react due to these faults, as do I from their strengths. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I think that the environment in which I was raised also plays a big part in who I am, and how I am raising my daughter - and whether you can accredit that to my parents or not is up to you. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">When I think about my parents, when I was a child, the word I think of is “present”. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My parents were always present for me. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>From a very young age I can remember “hanging out” in my dad’s office, using up vast quantities of his hot melt glue stringing “webs” across the room, using almost equally large quantities of solder making towers of molten metal. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I can remember excavating little buildings out of polystyrene and running electrical circuits inside to poke bright LED lights out of the windows. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Playing “Jill of the Jungle” on an ancient PC. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">Most weekends (in my memory) we would either go places or do things “as a family”. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In an environment where so much was communal/shared it was important to my parents to ensure we were a well knit family unit. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In the summer we used to picnic at the “water hole” where we swam in the deep red-brown water, coloured from running through the peat bogs in the mountains. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We found a dead sheep there once, and the sandy shallows were often decorated with fresh (and not so fresh) sheep droppings. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One of my brothers tried to drown me there - my memory, probably not his. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He held my head under the water until I managed to get him to let go by scratching and biting, coming to the surface panicked and screaming. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As an adult, I have a strong fear of being trapped or cornered - I wonder if that experience could have something to do with it? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As my brother was many years older than me at the time, I wonder whether my behaviour had caused his action? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Of course, I have no memory of any of this, only of the trauma - and unfortunately sometimes the trauma is the only thing that sticks with you, despite all of its happy surroundings.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">I can remember going to the shopping centre on a Saturday with Mum. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She would often drop me (and sometimes my older sister) at the library and I would spend hours engrossed in our books - my favourites being Biggles’ books and the Chalet School series, so I suppose I could’ve been anywhere from 10-15. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>After the library, I would walk over to the Square and buy myself a snack (often chocolate or Mighty Munch) and a soda (Club Orange, Lilt or Cidona, three things that Australia sadly lacks). <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And on the dot of 3:30 I would go to our assigned meeting place outside Bewley’s to meet Mum.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">If you asked my sister, or either of my brothers about our childhood, they would have very different memories than me. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Their childhoods were busy, and full of people and children, while I can remember being lonely, of not having anyone, and turning to books and the internet in a bid to find some connection. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Listening to Simon and Garfunkel to somehow share their loneliness.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">“Hiding in my room</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">Safe within my womb</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">I touch no one and no one touches me…</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">I am a rock, I am an island.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">…and a rock feels no pain,</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">And an island never cries.”</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">It wasn’t always like that. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As a young child, there were around 5 children my age in the community. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My best friend as a very small child left the community not long after I had started school. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I can remember when their family left, they strapped a washing machine onto the trailer, I suppose it was a gift from the community. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I can’t remember much other than that. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Then we were down to four - two boys about a year older than me, and a girl 2 years older and we were all in the same class. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We were technically home schooled, but as it was a community and all of the children were home schooled there, it was more like a very small private school with set teachers, subjects and lesson times. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Holidays were rostered and when on holiday, you were assigned to an adult and put to work - weeding, cleaning, or whatever the task of the day was.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">I don’t think of that part of school as a negative or a positive memory. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was, and therefore it is. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I never particularly enjoyed school, I would have preferred to be in the great outdoors gambolling with my pet lambs or climbing trees and damming the stream. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Unfortunately in Western Society at least, school is something We Must Do and therefore We Did It. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My parents felt strongly and negatively about the public/state school system, about what it taught both societal and educational, and so they made the decision to raise their children away from all of that. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“In the world but not of the world” was a popular Biblical phrase. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We were called to be “set apart” and set apart we were. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And for my younger years, being set apart wasn’t all that bad. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">It was somewhere between the ages of 10 and 14, I would say, that being “set apart” became more apart than it was before. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The community began to change more than it ever had previously. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>People had always come and go - it was never a case of community being forever. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Families were free to leave, although it wasn’t encouraged. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There was a sense that the people who stayed were doing it right, listening to God and their calling, so there was definitely an us versus them undercurrent. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But in my tween/early teen years, almost everyone left. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And when I say almost everyone - the community dwindled to just 11 people - and I was the only child left. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One after another, my classmates (who I wasn’t very close to anyway) left.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">My then closest friend, outside the community, also homeschooled (I presume my parents were aware that I needed a friend) moved with her family to the UK. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Of course, my memories are just memories, so the timeline is probably not entirely accurate, but once it was only me I spent a lot of time in my room. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I played some games on the internet, chatted in chat rooms to strangers (somehow always safely, but WHAT were my parents thinking???) and read an insane number of books. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I studied alone, and took my exams in a tutorial centre in Dublin. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">If you had asked me then, I wouldn’t have known that I was lonely. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I don’t think I would have asked to go to school - not that it was an option. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I don’t think my mind would have computed that anything at all was wrong. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And of course, this hasn’t even touched on the religious part of our lives.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">Every August there was a Youth Camp for the teenagers, 13 and up. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My birthday was in September, and the year I was going to turn 13, all of my peers (the ones who had left, the ones who remained, ones from overseas…) went to Youth Camp, and I was not allowed to go. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I sat outside the closed door during meetings, listening to the speakers preach. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I watched the kids in their group activities, sports, I watched as they all trooped downstairs to eat in the long tables set up in a separate room from everyone else like me. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I think that is my very first oh so vivid memory of being “apart”, being “different” - and this was just because of age! <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It made such a massive impact on me because I was the only one left out. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In future years, kids who “barely missed out” were allowed to take part - but it was too late to change that year for me. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">I am not an only child. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I am the youngest of four - my brothers are 10 and 8 years older than me, my sister is 5.5 years older than me. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When I was 8, my eldest brother left home, and when I was 10, my second brother followed him. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My sister was my playmate for a short time as a child, but she soon grew too old for dolls, barbies and the like. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My female classmate, 2 years older than me, worked for awhile until she “grew up” too, moving on to boys and makeup, two things that never interested me, before then moving to America. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">The boys used to make me do trials in the community grounds to prove that, as a girl, I was tough enough to hang out with them. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Although as a girl I was forced to either wear dresses or skirts (trousers were forbidden for females), I still managed to climb trees with the rest. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I would walk tightropes of thin branches, climb trees and jump, on a rope swing, to plunge into holly bushes to prove my worth. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I would never, ever let anyone think that I could be scared - or a GIRL. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Being a boy was so much better. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Boys got to wear shorts and trousers. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Boys were the heirs, and kept their father’s name. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Boys got to work outside the community in real jobs, boys were tough and never had to clean the house or cook community dinners. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When I grew up, I was going to have boys, lots and lots of BOYS. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had all their names picked out already. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">Did my parents think boys were better? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I doubt that was even subconsciously their thought. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They surely supported me when I decided I wanted to become a pilot. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They had my back when an elder disagreed. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My parents always had my back.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">So, why the negativity? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Why the anxiety, why the PRESSURE? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Why the overwhelming feeling, the fear of never being enough? </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">My teenage years were rough. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I never rebelled. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I went to school and I passed my exams and I took over the farm at age 15 and raised sheep and goats and I loved it. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>At age 17 I finished school, and at 18 I started flying. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>So how was it rough? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Why was it rough, and what about my parents?</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">And I think this post has gotten far to long…</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">So TBC…</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p>lesserweevilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109055589386485566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3893504811921089789.post-36958082428361672542021-09-23T13:17:00.002-07:002021-09-23T13:17:18.318-07:00Some people<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTUfu-b9oOVYgXQb1txkMWZfn1pj6W6m4WRoOSbOOEnZJ-4-qyqPyPHFN9JzK112wajJsD7HRgMc0zojjNxI9QnC_MzIsFHIPpPjGVFfXuuGe-klDB2J7hJ_7oN2BijwMfD03RQdHzucmt/s2048/096392E6-175B-493F-A63A-9BD9504148DA.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTUfu-b9oOVYgXQb1txkMWZfn1pj6W6m4WRoOSbOOEnZJ-4-qyqPyPHFN9JzK112wajJsD7HRgMc0zojjNxI9QnC_MzIsFHIPpPjGVFfXuuGe-klDB2J7hJ_7oN2BijwMfD03RQdHzucmt/s320/096392E6-175B-493F-A63A-9BD9504148DA.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px;">Some people are incredibly narrow minded and selfish. </span> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px;">I read it on the news, on social media etc, all the time.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px;"> </span> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px;">For instance the border closure warriors who DEMAND we keep QLD borders closed forever.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px;"> </span> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px;">Protect our State!</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px;"> </span> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px;">Protect our people!</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px;"> </span> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px;">I presume they don’t have family outside of the state!</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px;"> </span> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px;">I have a colleague (now ex colleague) who has just taken a job in the US simply because his kids are in the Netherlands and he hasn’t got to see them for almost 2 years due to border closures.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px;"> </span> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px;">His only way to resume contact with his direct family is to leave his job, his life, etc here in Australia and move to another country.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px;"> </span><p></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">We have just passed the 2 year mark of visiting our loved ones in the UK and Ireland and it hurts. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It hurts the most that I haven’t been able to introduce my little girl to her family. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Her grandparents, aunts, uncles, her myriads of cousins. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Here we are in our little “island”, protected for sure, living an amazing Covid-free life… but so so isolated. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>At Christmas we are hoping to see my step daughter for just the second time this year - that’s insane! <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There have been so many interstate border closures, or threatened closures, that David hasn’t been able to head down to Tasmania even for a couple of days, without risking not being able to get back to his family for MONTHS. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>That is a real danger, and has happened to too many people already, and it’s the SAME country.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">It is looking more positive now that things will begin to open up again. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Vaccination rates are rising and premiers are beginning to promise the easing of restrictions. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But in one breath they say international travel will resume in December, and in the next they extend aviation relief payments to March, so I honestly don’t know. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It almost makes me want to move back to Ireland - but I know we can’t do that either, right now. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Just one example of why is that C needs her dad, even a couple of times a year is better than nothing, going into the difficult teenage years etc. </span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">So here we are… still waiting. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And I know we are SO SO lucky to live in Queensland. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We have only experienced a handful of 3 day lockdowns, with 8 days being our longest. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Melbourne, for instance, has broken the world record for days locked down - I believe over 260? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And here we are, mask wearing our only restriction - and not leaving the state. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Fingers crossed that won’t be forever!!!! </span></p>lesserweevilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109055589386485566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3893504811921089789.post-23716513037352891922021-09-21T13:16:00.000-07:002021-09-21T13:16:00.763-07:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2">It is eerily quiet in my house, because the spawn is on her way to daycare with David. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>If all goes according to plan, 2 full days spawn-free are ahead of me. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Today, I plan to go for a run, give the dog a haircut, and attempt to tackle the wreck that used to be our front lawn. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When the pool was put in, the lawn was used first as a pathway, then for a crane to rest once then to deposit crusher dust and gravel, and then for tiles to be cut and tile glue to be both mixed and apparently poured out on the long suffering grass. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>All of that to say, it now looks like a building that site with a few tufts of grass poking through. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I haven’t got a clue how to fix it, but someone suggested starting by bashing at it with a steel rake, I’m good at bashing, so I’m gonna do that. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I’ll let you know how it goes.</span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2">Yesterday I took the spawn to a dance and play cafe and we overstayed our welcome and she got overtired and only napped 20 minutes. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It always seems like a good idea at the time - oh she’s happy enough, I’ll chat for another few minutes… and then we always end up regretting it! <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>At least it meant an early night and then Dave and I were able to actually enjoy our dinner (lamb Rogan Josh) in peace (in front of Blindspot on Netflix, in case you’re wondering).</span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; text-align: left;">It’s a strange feeling when the spawn is gone.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; text-align: left;"> </span> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; text-align: left;">On the one hand, I LOVE having the day to myself, being able to do anything and everything (within reason as technically I’m on reserve).</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; text-align: left;"> </span> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; text-align: left;">But at the same time, the weird brain response that is Mum-hood deeply misses the tiny tyrant.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; text-align: left;"> </span> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; text-align: left;">It is SO needed, this break, but those little cheeks are oh so kissable.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; text-align: left;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAFn6OBhq4dpWO-UxGzoVzL1Ub3VTgnI8x2cPhSrkR3mLeWtACmhSHn-2EyyQBdJcC2PVkSDYlT8oQy8Bj05Czkvzaf1RuOkfhbxnLW35twECqlmag8c5Ue662NKeLKET4Z_InmHuLw2xD/s2048/89A2A0B8-36B9-4204-A6BC-32E0D0A5377C.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAFn6OBhq4dpWO-UxGzoVzL1Ub3VTgnI8x2cPhSrkR3mLeWtACmhSHn-2EyyQBdJcC2PVkSDYlT8oQy8Bj05Czkvzaf1RuOkfhbxnLW35twECqlmag8c5Ue662NKeLKET4Z_InmHuLw2xD/s320/89A2A0B8-36B9-4204-A6BC-32E0D0A5377C.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(Having the best time climbing on her Whatsie play couch)</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIPSXPIfgUsPDNdDHj3RMpTFtRf0jxRFeUV-iX_CA0SyjJgO9Dnd1RmegRPSek_mb5bQGhOt7zVgTFW57yyh-gW50twngUkNH05WgIvr1tFxwpNQH5l6rHcve1IYe53SudbSCxo0CyYxLe/s2048/2D4F60A1-2EB2-4B75-A37F-363C182B405C.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIPSXPIfgUsPDNdDHj3RMpTFtRf0jxRFeUV-iX_CA0SyjJgO9Dnd1RmegRPSek_mb5bQGhOt7zVgTFW57yyh-gW50twngUkNH05WgIvr1tFxwpNQH5l6rHcve1IYe53SudbSCxo0CyYxLe/s320/2D4F60A1-2EB2-4B75-A37F-363C182B405C.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(making a god-awful mess in my house while I tried to fold laundry)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>In other news, I have zero idea how to properly format these posts using the Blogger website on my phone rather than an app, so I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with some left aligned, some Centre aligned, and pictures simply plonked down where Blogger decides to put them. <br /> <p></p>lesserweevilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109055589386485566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3893504811921089789.post-87983855790161342142021-09-16T20:33:00.004-07:002021-09-16T20:33:31.397-07:00No more birthday party<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi9JU93hRFK3KhGn_UDFcvdnvbl1JS7s_tBFm7LgQVZSyWcY6UNW4arQHoLTnabcb4RHNHOMex7jfE5dRWk0VK0pcASAgUYTkiZyMks2pE5CWNp4iy0zMDL5dx8RwJ45G3Y8lkivszSfQO/s2048/283C028D-9026-488C-850C-F09EEBB798CC.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi9JU93hRFK3KhGn_UDFcvdnvbl1JS7s_tBFm7LgQVZSyWcY6UNW4arQHoLTnabcb4RHNHOMex7jfE5dRWk0VK0pcASAgUYTkiZyMks2pE5CWNp4iy0zMDL5dx8RwJ45G3Y8lkivszSfQO/s320/283C028D-9026-488C-850C-F09EEBB798CC.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">(For attention, a little bean giving its daddy a good morning hug)</div><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px;">Now I’m just feeling sorry for myself.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px;"> </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">Everybody except for 1 person has canceled on my party tomorrow. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And that made me feel sad. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Before that, I closed the car boot on my head and that made me feel angry, and then it gave me a headache (yes, in that order), and then Emily started whinging at me and that made my headache worse and I slammed the garage door as hard as I could (she was already in the car, don’t worry) to try to let out some of the frustration, but other than making a really loud noise, it didn’t actually help.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">And I’ve just checked my roster and I have lost all of my remaining flying for the month (I had six flights left) and now that has made me feel Even More Sad, and I am officially Feeling Sorry For Myself.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">*sigh*</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">Just thought you should know. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">So what should I do with this extremely-free weekend? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>If anyone actually reads this blog any more, ideas please!</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1"><br /></span></p>lesserweevilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109055589386485566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3893504811921089789.post-41032162110975504652021-09-16T01:34:00.000-07:002021-09-16T01:34:06.902-07:00Age is just a number<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiynK4jzQPrmkJLHIcF91RcyO7dqiQuccxR4dTFGqJ0tfIKnNbyXC5PEy3qsufJDbkghLGKATl7YaJ4T0KK-5faqrNT-htpl4IMqyMlNefLOrADzf4jOo5cbvjIOy6jn4Voo2D1CGafiFQX/s2048/FE289ABA-9285-4A39-A761-8A6A32DC4837.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiynK4jzQPrmkJLHIcF91RcyO7dqiQuccxR4dTFGqJ0tfIKnNbyXC5PEy3qsufJDbkghLGKATl7YaJ4T0KK-5faqrNT-htpl4IMqyMlNefLOrADzf4jOo5cbvjIOy6jn4Voo2D1CGafiFQX/w313-h418/FE289ABA-9285-4A39-A761-8A6A32DC4837.jpeg" width="313" /></a></div>A photo just for attention of my child of the pandemic helping herself to hand sanitiser <br /> <p></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 28px; font-weight: bold;">Age is just a number</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2">This coming weekend, another year is done and my age increases yet again. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Even with a mask on, I often don’t get ID’d any more when I buy alcohol, and when I smile there are the beginnings of lines around my mouth and the corners of my eyes. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When I brush my hair, I notice more and more grey appearing as time goes by.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2">I don’t feel old, although that said, what does old feel like? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Sometimes I creak a little when I get up in the morning, or when I’ve done some unexpected exercise. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I don’t think I feel any different than I did as a teenager. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It’s strange how we change - and then maybe we stop changing. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Our bodies grow older, and perhaps we grow more tired, or maybe that’s just the addition of children and less sleep… but I am still me. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Do others change their opinions of me? </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2">I don’t feel like an adult, most of the time. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In a social setting I often feel like a fish out of water, trying to keep up with the conversation and understand the nuances. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One on one, I do okay, but when there are many people in a group I panic and lose track of the conversation. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Maybe that is something to do with progressive hearing loss - I don’t technically have hearing loss, but I struggle to hear an individual speak when there is a lot of background noise or cross conversation. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2">I have decided to throw myself a birthday party. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I have a swimming pool for the very first time, so we are going to enjoy bubbly (strictly not champagne because I’m a cheapskate), doughnuts and cake, and I believe David is planning a barbecue to add a little savoury to the overwhelming sweetness. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I have only invited four people, I hope they come, but when trying to think of who to invite, I couldn’t actually think of anyone else here who is truly my friend.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2">I have friends overseas who I would invite, I have a friend or two in Melbourne who can’t get up here because of lockdown and border closures, but they’re not close friends. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They’re not people I would talk to all of the time. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In fact, of the four I have invited, only two would be in that category. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The others, in a way, were “numbers” but I couldn’t think of more to add. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I am not the kind of person who needs “quantity”, but prefers “quality”. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And if nobody ends up coming, I get to eat all of the cake and doughnuts and that has to be a good thing!</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2">All this really says very little, and instead is just the meandering of my mind. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Maybe that also comes with age! </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2">I am not an old mother, nor a young mother, but in the more recent societal normal of career THEN kids. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I don’t feel old amongst my mum friends although I am the oldest of one of the groups. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Is this because I get down and dirty with my kid? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I never want to be the parent who sits on the sidelines watching while E plays, or swims, or adventures. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I want to be doing it all with her, participating in her childhood, her life. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>So fingers crossed, I won’t Get Old or Grow Up too quickly.</span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2"><br /></span></p>lesserweevilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109055589386485566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3893504811921089789.post-34084672182997132492021-09-07T22:23:00.003-07:002021-09-07T22:23:35.737-07:00<p> I’ve just finished day 1 of my recurrent sim - a biannual occurrence which never fails to fill me with stress and anxiety. I finished at midday today, and have felt completely exhausted and lethargic ever since, a physical side effect of this stress and anxiety. The hardest thing I have found about being part time is how rusty I feel All The Time. I am currently working 50%, but that is not helped by Covid, and border closures, which actually mean I am only flying once or twice a month. I assume that once flying is back to normal, flying 2-3 times a week would be perfect - but right now I am strongly considering increasing my work days from a 5 day to a 7 day fortnight. The thing is, it makes me feel incredibly guilty about being away from E that many days. </p><p>A large part of parenthood so far, is discontent. I’m not sure if that’s even the right word. So many words can fit the bill, words such as sleepless, exhausted, irritated, exasperated, and sometimes even downright angry. Nothing can begin to come close to describe the deep deep love I have for my daughter - how I would do absolutely anything for her - but when you’ve had little sleep, and a tiny tyrant is either rolling around on the floor screaming, or pulling at your clothes whining, sometimes you just don’t want to deal with it any more - and I guess “getting” to be away from her more (daycare/work) both brings relief AND guilt that I could possibly enjoy time without her. And I miss her too - deeply!</p><p>When we are together, I try to be the fun mum. We go out a lot, we go to play centres, for walks (or jogging - me, not her), we go to the petting farm, we have even found a little toddler disco that she loves. And when she is busy and having fun she is oh so lovely. - and then we come home and Mum tries to have a cup of tea and then all hell breaks loose. Or then when she wakes up first thing in the morning, and gives you the biggest grin and wraps her little arms around your neck… oh I never want those moments to end…</p><p>So, all this to say, I would love to be less rusty at work, and I would love to fly more - but I would also love to Have More Time with E, and Enjoy Her More (not always compatible with each other)… so I am somewhat torn. I will probably have to increase my hours at work soon, but that doesn’t make it an easy call to make.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdXfCpC_eRKITJ3Mew-v9WeLjE1SpzzyqXUEZ7tr7M2C8736vmVHKpgnVYHNLTyHatH3A8hpSxZQfgWHYEw4jU0KRmLTCV_SXA0fMTxDRcCUSYFlli1jODp5npM-fhGhvn1JfJf7fp3Gl3/s2048/4FCC83EF-3D6B-4E33-8417-A8609D8EB15F.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdXfCpC_eRKITJ3Mew-v9WeLjE1SpzzyqXUEZ7tr7M2C8736vmVHKpgnVYHNLTyHatH3A8hpSxZQfgWHYEw4jU0KRmLTCV_SXA0fMTxDRcCUSYFlli1jODp5npM-fhGhvn1JfJf7fp3Gl3/s320/4FCC83EF-3D6B-4E33-8417-A8609D8EB15F.jpeg" width="320" /></a></p><p><br /></p>lesserweevilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109055589386485566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3893504811921089789.post-86834257185037627532021-09-05T18:07:00.002-07:002021-09-05T18:07:26.054-07:00<p> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 28px; font-weight: bold;">Other people’s opinions</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2">When I was young, I don’t know, maybe 11-13 years old, I can clearly remember being outside in the garden, where a friend 2 years older than me and her mother openly laughed at me because I hadn’t started shaving my legs yet.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2">The first chance I got, I shaved my legs, and I have continued to do so my entire adult life. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Any time the hair even begins to show, I feel hideous, embarrassed, and remember the feeling of being laughed at. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But having leg hair is completely natural - isn’t it?</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2">and there we have it - other people’s opinions, and how they influence our lives, and our life choices.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2">The biggest “opinion” I face on a relatively regular basis, is the opinion that I cannot “only” have one child. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“She’ll be lonely,” people say, in their all-knowing wisdom. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“What if something happens to her?” is another gem. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Well, for a start, no matter how many children I hypothetically had, losing one would be JUST as tragic and very much not replaced by their having a sibling!</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2">People, the vast majority of them strangers, assume that they have the right to hold this opinion on how many children our family contains. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And for some reason, I often feel like I have to lay bare my soul, explain to the tiniest detail why we have made this decision. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Why should I have to share my birth story with a stranger? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Since when did they have any right to know our family’s financial situation, for instance.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2">It is quite incredible how much we value other people’s opinion. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Frankly, the only reason “another child” has ever been in my mind at all, is the thought of how others might view our one-and-done family. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2">This platform, for now at least, is not somewhere that I want to share my birth story. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>If you know me, and you want to ask, without demanding that I populate the world, or give my child “the greatest gift” of another human being for their very own (maybe a puppy would be more appropriate?) then I would be happy to share more with you. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I am merely exploring the idea that others really think they should have an opinion.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2">I have been listening to a podcast lately, and it has really made me think a lot about this. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Someone’s seemingly innocent question of “when are you having another one?” could be vastly inappropriate. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>What if that family had suffered miscarriages before, or after, their living child was born? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>What if they desperately had wanted a second and that was never to be? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I admit that I have been one of these people to ask these inappropriate questions. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Childless myself, at the time, and thinking nothing of it. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It all changes when you become a recipient of these opinions yourself. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2">I can remember someone saying “it’s not a family unless you have at least 3 children”. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>WOW. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Pretty much sure that gem needs its own paragraph.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2">When I was younger, I thought I would have more than one child. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In fact, I have always loved names, and from a child I have had a whole list of names to call my offspring, which changed every now and then - but in the end I didn’t use a single one, but chose a completely different name instead. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I used to think I would want boys (having been told, at least through actions, that “boys are better”) but when I actually fell pregnant, I desperately wanted a girl - and got one. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In fact, when I met David, I told him I only wanted one child, although I also changed that to “maybe two, 3 years apart”. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But now, we are very firmly back to One and Done, and we really shouldn’t have to justify it to anyone.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2">And before you, dear audience, say “but you could change your mind” etc etc. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Yes, we COULD, and if we do, that is our choice once again, and doesn’t mean we were wrong, or listened to any of you, or pretty much anything. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2">And in the meantime - please stop. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>If you have an opinion on someone’s family size, just keep it to yourself? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It really, really isn’t helpful, and sometimes it downright hurts. </span></p>lesserweevilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109055589386485566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3893504811921089789.post-81402097822193547422020-03-17T16:15:00.001-07:002020-03-17T16:15:49.889-07:00A very small updateThere is very little to say! Since my last post, I have been home, waiting for this small child to arrive, and trying not to go completely mad. It helps that I am an introvert - although an extroverted introvert most of the time (yes, that’s a thing). Up until last week, I was swimming most days at Settlement Cove in Redcliffe.<div><br></div><div><img id="id_543d_d1ca_ccb_c859" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/ABS9kNKUdZpDpvzFu1TtT_dtp9ZgQ8aRzzZtLuV2C_HPeJWh9chU99RfB4Huekw" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br>During the week it has been very quiet and gloriously relaxing to paddle around without feeling the weight of my ever expanding middle.</div><div><br></div><div>However, last week the weather changed to about 10Degrees colder (so still mid 20s) and it doesn’t really feel like swimming weather any more. Now, I’m trying to go for a walk twice a day to try to walk Bub out!</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_ddbe_ac58_1f77_fe23" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/3PQRzDrUchMaHVhWHohJZJF7yYCgwujktOFygShwpGVXvS2natmbQlxilZ8bdfk" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br>Lily is loving all of the walks!</div><div><br></div><div>I am now 39 weeks and 3 days and The Child is due on Sunday (Mothering Sunday). It is definitely becoming a little concerning with the virus around so I am not going anywhere with Concentrated People, like shopping centres, for the foreseeable future. There doesn’t seem to be much if any research on the effects of this thing on newborns, so better safe than sorry!</div><div><br></div><div>We are hoping that The Child decides to grace us with her presence soon - I’m not sure I can get much bigger! But they won’t book an induction until 40+10</div><div>which I believe is 1 April.</div><div><br></div><div>We shall see...</div><div><br></div>lesserweevilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109055589386485566noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3893504811921089789.post-47957580408722657332020-02-06T13:41:00.001-08:002020-02-06T13:41:41.368-08:00Last night was our last (of five ) antenatal classes, and I’m looking forward to having our Thursday evenings back! This week has been particularly busy with Monday night at C&A’s house, Wednesday at J&E’s, last night antenatal and then tonight a friend of Dave’s and his family are coming for dinner. Bring on a quiet weekend!<div><br></div><div>Part of the last class was to visit the birthing suite, and it was very strange being up there. Seeing the bed and all of the equipment like incubators, stirrups, etc. made me feel like an alien, completely out of place. I didn’t feel like I belonged there, I looked at all of the other women and their partners and thought ah yes, they’re all having babies, but I didn’t feel like that myself. I’m a pilot, I’m not one of <i>these! </i>It was very surreal.</div><div><br></div><div>A slightly funny note was during the class when we were all instructed to dress and swaddle dolls, which was very easy (it was demonstrated first) and I was joking around as usual (and finished first) and the midwife asked “so, Kate, what do you do for a job?” It was quite amusing to reply “I’m a pilot,” and see the stunned faces! “I was not expecting that!” she said. I’m not sure if it was the joking around that prompted the question, or the quick and efficient dressing of the doll, but it was amusing!</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_8977_e948_a5b0_67e9" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/ty2rPTb1mEE247lIBMNvM970zY4SJAOVUkaNrUsPGRL9aJ0IdrEkZ_pu1HGFcag" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><i>We have also had lots of practise swaddling the dog (this photo is from August!)</i><br><br></div><div>From next Monday, I apparently have to get doctors’ certificates to say I could work, if work wanted me to work (which they don’t), in other words, to ensure that I keep getting paid. I’m hoping to get paid for another 3 weeks (up to 37 weeks) at least before going on official ‘maternity leave.’ So 3 exceedingly pointless trips to the doctor! I haven’t worked since Christmas, when I stopped flying, but work didn’t have any office work (‘safe work’) for me to do, so they have just been paying me to sit at home.</div><div><br></div><div>I have, however, managed to use my sitting at home usefully! I am currently working on filling a chest freezer with meals. It’s not a large freezer - 146L I believe - but we got it secondhand off FB marketplace and it is very satisfying to fill. So far, I have made enchiladas, lasagne, tuna fish pie and cottage pie. Not sure what the next recipe will be, but I accept ideas! These meals are for when Joey comes home from the hospital, although with Dave home the first couple of weeks, I will probably try to save most for when he starts his new job on 14 April.</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_7cb4_58ea_be75_6543" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/Ki_kkJfG1WsF7_3SFRhKrs5-PLL4yQdcJsDdLRCEIdMlZeqix-L0TU4dlPTFvQs" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><i>So many cottage pies!</i><br><br></div><div>On the subject of Dave’s new job, that is also news. Dave was asked to interview at a company last year - probably in May or June, if memory serves me right. He never even applied for the job - but after interviewing, they said he did really well but they didn’t actually know if they needed him! In November, he suddenly got a call saying “can you start on Monday” and obviously the answer was no, as he had way too much work (and responsibilities) at the current job. He replied saying that he did want to work for them, but that with commitments plus the new baby due 22 March, it was likely to be April before he could realistically start. Everything went deathly quiet.</div><div><br></div><div>And then, in late January, they contacted him again, asking him to come in for a meeting, and offered him a start date of 14 April. This gives him time (hopefully) to wrap everything up at his current place, and finish up around the time that Joey is due. And even if she is late, he should still be able to have around 2 weeks at home with us. </div><div><br></div><div>It is going to be quite an adjustment for Dave, of course. Having been an aircraft engineer for 25 years, it is not a small thing to walk away from. He is now going to be instructing engineering, and that is going to be a challenge for him, as standing in front of a group of people isn’t exactly something with which he is comfortable! </div><div><br></div><div>So it is going to be a big year for all of us... new year, new baby, new job, no flying for me, etc etc. hopefully we will come through it :)</div><div><br></div><div>And for now... I must clean the house a bit in preparation for our visitors tonight! </div>lesserweevilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109055589386485566noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3893504811921089789.post-50187941062727209832020-01-21T21:16:00.001-08:002020-01-21T21:16:59.644-08:00The preparations have started! 2 months to go... and I’m beginning to think about what I need to do before Joey arrives. Slowly, the clothes, blankets, etc. are being washed, and I’ve just started doing meal prep. We bought a secondhand chest freezer a few weeks ago and the plan is to fill it before the birth so the workload is reduced afterwards. But since we bought it, life has stayed busy so I have only just started cooking! It’s just a little bit inconvenient now as staying on my feet for any length of time makes my pelvis ache.<div><br></div><div>I had another check up on Monday and everything was perfect with Bub, measuring exactly 31weeks at 31 weeks which I assume puts her in the 50th percentile. Not 100% sure how that works though. She is super active and loves bouncing off the walls of my uterus - it is now very easy (and frequent!) to feel the hard knobbles of her feet and knees moving in and out. She is still moving around at this stage as her head isn’t yet locked in my pelvis, but she is lying head down just rolling her body back and forth (ow).</div><div><br></div><div>We had our baby shower on Saturday, which a couple of friends organised, which was really lovely. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_aecb_9ba7_674a_2ae" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/Ho7ZwxD3EavXkldLNEvOtebxX2XmlceUrc8NK4XaJCxdngfO309Hxy_oGPk" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br>I tried not to think about how far away from family we are, but it really would have been nice to spend the day with them as well. I did post a multitude of photos on FB that people can look at. This just happens to be the only one I have on my phone, as Dave took the others!</div><div><br></div><div>Shortly, we are going swimming, which is really the only activity I can do lots of - walking etc really hurts my pelvis and when I am swimming I feel weightless which makes a change.</div><div><br></div><div>And that’s about it for now... oh yes! Dave got a new job starting mid April, which is very exciting news. His current company is still struggling and we are very excited about the move - although it is going to be quite the career change and adjustment for him. At least he has almost 3 months to prepare for it.</div><div><br></div><div>adios! </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>lesserweevilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109055589386485566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3893504811921089789.post-49961690536925753912019-12-03T12:11:00.001-08:002019-12-03T12:11:57.393-08:00<p class="p1" style="margin: 0px 0px 3px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 22px; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-weight: bold;">24 weeks</span></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">For me, this is huge: the first viability marker. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>If our daughter were born now, she would have a chance - not a great one, but at least a chance. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It is a massive milestone for me, as every twinge, every pain up til now has been accompanied with wild thoughts of “if she’s born now she wouldn’t make it.” <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I don’t have any reason to think she would be born early - but my brain tends to go into anxiety/panic mode very easily!</span></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">A lot has happened in 24 weeks. </span></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">For one, we’ve spent a lot of money! <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We are gradually getting everything together that we need - still a few big ticket items missing but we are getting there. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The nursery now has a cot and a rocking chair in it (both purchased second hand) and a friend of mine is giving us all of her baby girl clothes as her youngest is growing out of them. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>So a note: we don’t need any more clothes! </span><span class="s3">😂</span><span class="s2">. (I had an amusing chat with a friend last week who has just had her second baby. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She announced in no uncertain terms that having a baby was “free until daycare” which I thought particularly funny as they had just spent $2500 on a stroller!)</span></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">We have also been to numerous scans and doctor appointments - just a normal part of having a baby. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Everything looks just perfect with her, the only thing that came up on the last scan was that I have a low lying placenta, so in early February we have a fourth scan to check that the placenta has moved up - which is pretty normal. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I am signed off to stop flying at 27 weeks, which puts my last day on the 21st December. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I could have worked a week or two more, but it will be nice to have a Christmas at home with Dave before our daughter arrives, and also, the company I work for doesn’t have a maternity uniform so right now I am wearing a home-amended attempt and I’m not sure for how many more weeks it will fit! <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The doctors and midwives seem very happy with how everything is progressing and despite the placental position, I am categorised as low risk.</span></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">It is going to be really strange not to be flying. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I realised a few days ago that I won’t fly a 717 at all in 2020 and I definitely have mixed feelings about that. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I could of course go back to work early, but I also feel strongly that it is important for me to be there for the baby, and I really want to breastfeed too, which isn’t very compatible with my work lifestyle. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Work has told me that they don’t need me in the office at all so from Christmas I’m going to be twiddling my thumbs at home (in the air con). <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I am trying to think up some projects to keep me busy (not too active) in those 3 months leading up to the baby’s arrival, otherwise I am going to go stark staring mad!! <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I get paid by work up to 34 weeks no questions asked, after which I have to get certificates from the doctor to say I COULD work if work should want me to do so. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Then at some point I go on maternity leave. </span></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">At the moment, my parents are planning on visiting in May, which I am very excited about. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The distance from family is one thing that is particularly difficult so it will be lovely having them over for a few weeks.</span></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">Well, being as I am now 24 weeks plus 3 days I really should post this! <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I may get around to writing more Some Other Time.</span></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br></p> lesserweevilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109055589386485566noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3893504811921089789.post-45760658925178554842019-11-03T18:50:00.001-08:002019-11-03T18:50:19.861-08:00Anniversary weekendThis weekend was our first anniversary, and I can’t believe it’s only been a year - and apparently for most of that I haven’t blogged! <div><br></div><div>We went down to Currumbin for the weekend and stayed in an AirB&B by the beach, and it was SO very nice to have a weekend where we didn’t have to DO anything. We walked on the beach, and we swam a little, and we ate far too much very nice food, and all in all we just rested.</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_83ed_7fc5_255c_231c" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/tR4wT4YN9yGkySgiHWx3x6oKFtXgmdCmCAg5Z9H7A6FQYnlTZ83VQBpLumU" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br>The last few weeks have been very busy - since last time I blogged, we spent 3.5 weeks in England and Ireland, visiting (and meeting for the first time) lots and lots of family and running ourselves fairly ragged in the process. We got home, jumped straight back into work amongst the throes of jetlag, and before we had a chance to recover properly from that, Dave’s daughter C and her foster brother M came to stay with us for a week.</div><div><br></div><div>It was absolutely lovely having them with us, we did tons of fun activities, but it really was a full on week - and the moment they left it was in to a string of 6 earlies for me, including a 3 day trip. So, as you can imagine, combined with the child growing inside me, I’ve been functioning rather less than 100%.</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_6d1b_741e_3848_9cb8" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/LHSV7hZJ0PD78IFS_-E5xXsxuXA-SdFyJLG-z5rLLY8X2bTsRjn2dpL2MHU" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br>This weekend, although just two days, was so very relaxing. It started on the Friday, after work, when we went for our 20 week ultrasound and found out IT’S A GIRL!!! I couldn’t (we couldn’t) be more thrilled - and yes we did fit in some baby shopping into our weekend! SO many things to buy, it is unreal how expensive having a baby is - but I already knew that. The really expensive part is going to be taking time off after she is born.</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_65fe_809e_b1ab_6982" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/jnhQ8HoZWmk09GmUSnAe_3pewpP7JcK43S98NA6dr8CteP5wtjOds-g0w74" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br>From our apartment in the Gold Coast, we could hear the sound of the waves all night and all day - and it was strangely soothing. </div><div><br></div><div>We woke early both mornings, as usual, and just lay in bed knowing we didn’t HAVE to do anything. No time we had to be anywhere, no appointments, no work, nothing at all to dictate how we spent our days.</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_b40e_df84_bcce_f3e1" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/c1qJL-JcP-NjdRu38rYeKdjo5hBcrtckL6b6SNVHUPvqli5LSTbeJVe6Nkg" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br>And we finally got up and made tea (or coffee in Dave’s case), and walked in the sand, and we breathed. Something that we haven’t had enough of lately. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_5764_5f44_1aae_19f2" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/Mxyae5cIxt9CpqbGwhLLyrbp1Zjw4Xp3gjnmblIWesMlHJSYQSEr9RUVdUA" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br>And hopefully we will get to do this (or something similar) at LEAST one more time before baby girl comes screaming onto the scene! </div><div><br></div><div><br></div>lesserweevilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109055589386485566noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3893504811921089789.post-15128165841126941862019-09-12T20:34:00.001-07:002019-09-12T20:34:43.407-07:00Hasting CavesThis is a post without much writing as it is simply to show you some of what we saw of Hastings Caves in Tasmania.<div><br></div><div><img id="id_13f3_1413_a700_33" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/4JlSZ3jvCyh3pQJGOPm_GrvqYXghK_mYXxjnX0q2TRWT6T68yNJyByyqQZw" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_e808_6bf7_6600_63c3" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/L_EX2lNjeqqZ0_M5hou1tS7XuBJzZ7ZMZ90USPh4FGT7dzudOe35BUoVPG4" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_4131_e097_6c5a_80d5" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/zw1UA1_JCttul9ez15u5ohpkKST92OLoy0mr5-RWYO4HoabO_IXKV5ZO9uU" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br><img id="id_2e30_61c0_bc4e_ecf5" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/INM6S2Zoa-mdXnG4KbeUEaborKqbwIpf4ao08CSZf0KvityuHBlEvkGXY5w" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br><br><br><img id="id_3994_1b73_2920_82d" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/kkIIRMc3oN4jwARzQgnG0KKOfOCFrepblx07DEN62yGmnx6_HxGh5gonzkI" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br><br><img id="id_edb8_df86_d20b_5539" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/etQBaO3C827xVcvsnNh8WbT1uvvV59d7ii21r85BUQtsUiUV_KNc3QDhMkk" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_12f1_d920_3f91_73ea" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/9zrZwkkAujaLpnt7Hl6m4CcB3zP0lydLG1B_DpvQqfTyQ9mxZ3gG9ZLQ1XU" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);">All pictures taken by Dave - you’re welcome! <br></span><br><br><br><br><br></div>lesserweevilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109055589386485566noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3893504811921089789.post-68600697460706694782019-09-08T01:04:00.001-07:002019-09-08T01:04:45.360-07:00Hobart
<p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Friday morning, I worked an early Mackay and then sat around the airport for three hours until Dave arrived so we could start our trip together to Hobart. I was lying on one of the couches in the Virgin terminal, after napping, when I decided to check the flight numbers... which had been fine the previous day! To my surprise, the flight was completely full, and continuing to check, I realised that all of the Sydney flights were the same. </span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Changing tack, I had a look at Melbourne flights and thankfully found one that would work - although it then meant we had to sit around in Melbourne for three hours before flying onwards to Hobart, landing at 2105. Having left the house at 0400, I wasn’t particularly enamoured with the idea but at least it would get us there. It was a bit hit and miss even getting on the flight to Melbourne due to a polar front, but make it we did, and finally found ourselves at our bed and breakfast. </span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Orana House was a sprawling colonial style building with pretty gardens filled with daffodils. I meant to take pictures but our plans changed quite drastically which didn’t give us any time for such niceties! It was incredibly cold but our room had a decent little heater which kept us alive, at least. </span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Saturday morning dawned bright and early - or rather, we woke early at our customary 0500, and it had not dawned, was not bright, and the chill outside took our breath away (or at least mine, because I am weak.). Four degrees is a little bit cold for me. It wasn’t raining yet but the forecast looked terrible so we decided to make Indoor Plans for the day.</span></p>
<p class="p2"><img id="id_f159_3f04_9709_9191" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/mzCxeWWSAyZqNyy7RPjKBrLWqbstQHoOzWrBTQtIAe6UjLldGSbRBgziZUA" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i>A river beside which we drove</i></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">C particularly wanted to go swimming, and when we picked the two of them up at 0730, she already had her swimmers on under her clothes ready to go. The walk from the car to the Aquatic Centre was absolutely freezing and I began to wonder were we completely and utterly insane to consider this activity? Thankfully, it was lovely and warm inside and we defrosted quickly. Unfortunately, having come from Brisbane, neither Dave or I had towels, which we had been hoping to hire - no luck there, apparently the only option was to buy towels at a grandiose price of $35 each. We settled on one towel to share! The kids brought their towels from home but seriously seeing how they treated the things made us not want to share them!</span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">For a venue with such a grand name as The Hobart Aquatic Centre, and from photos on google, it was a bit disappointing to find that it consisted of a main (cold) swimming pool with lanes, and a kiddies pool which was mostly thigh deep and full of small children. This pool was pretty warm forever and C and M enjoyed themselves a lot - and we had fun splashing water at them, pretending to be sharks, and dragons, and generally rough housing around. Two hours flew and it was time to get out (with C dragging her heels very sulkily!). </span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">After some biscuit fortification (that I had taken from breakfast) back at the car, we decided to stop at Coles to get Supplies for lunch and snacks, and then get on the road and head down to Hastings Caves. It was a 1h40 trip one way, but out of the cold and rain and the Caves promised an adventure not yet experienced by C, M or Dave. </span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Meanwhile, a new drama presented itself. Dave’s ex unfortunately misunderstood our plans - although we had written the email together and specified that we were picking up the children at 0730 and dropping them after dinner, she thought that we were keeping them overnight! We only realised this when she texted to ask could we drop them at her mum’s in the morning. Um... we only had a small double room booked at the B&B.</span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We quickly rang the B&B to see if they had another room available, but they were full up. After a lot of back and forth and trying to find babysitters etc, we eventually ended up booking a 2 bedroom apartment elsewhere for the night!</span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">After this was sorted out, we headed off to Hastings Caves and arrived just in time for the afternoon tour. Everyone seemed to enjoy theirselves - although C kept whispering to me “I think I might be getting a little scared now” and then got distracted and was fine again. After this, we went on a quick walk to see if we could find the thermal springs advertised (a 1m round hole in the ground that was well fenced off and not very special) and then it was back to the car (C: I’ve got a stitch and my legs can’t walk any further.). Thankfully we did make it back to the car with mere minutes to spare before the gate was shut at 1600. Nobody’s legs fell off, either, although by the sounds of things there could have been blood, gore and all out slaughter.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><img id="id_a549_fafb_d08e_108b" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/g8CV6lLtne_G1OjVdO5qfMg-lTRtHzRmFnrx8HEyTsitQhvq6K5m1acAK8o" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><i>Dave has much nicer photos than me but I’ll post them separately.</i></span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">The drive back was quieter than the drive there, due to sleepy children, although tempers did get a little frayed once or twice! </span></p><p class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><img id="id_f485_c02f_c86a_c48e" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/uMNzsVIwyLQkPnoT_HKYmBTHaUXX_zMFv2g8SQU3IA2rRSNvrP2kuDUDfyc" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">We had to stop by Orana House to let C change her clothes before dinner, as she had unfortunately Sat On Something. We decided to take all of our things with us and check out (although sadly I left my PJs in the bed!) before going to dinner. Dinner was at the Irish Pub which is also where we went last time we went to Hobart - a favourite with the children. I was less than enamoured with my choice of fish and chips (soggy fish), and also didn’t particularly like Dave’s steak and Guinness pie (inside cooked separately to the pastry and placed inside to serve) and C’s rare steak was medium at best! </span></p><p class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><img id="id_dea3_393a_f1f8_f951" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/HTv-Ye0ilkhfWaNUzk_OyNAQoHXAVEaPf3kw1sbPjhqDd7vORAZNVBj9xFk" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Our new abode was a basic apartment, but it had everything we needed - warmth, beds and a hot shower. In fact, after the children went to bed, we thought next time we might just book something similar and keep the kids all weekend and also having an apartment would mean we could cook dinner and spend $30 on something really nice instead of spending over $100 on almost inedible fare! Despite having been looking forward to a quiet romantic morning before flying back to Brisbane, it really was nice having the kids with us overnight and they were quiet sad when we dropped them home. </span></p><p class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br></p><p class="p1">
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Thankfully, our flight back to Brisbane had plenty of seats and was on time - in fact, I am writing this from the aeroplane which is why it is so very long winded - you’re welcome. </span></p> lesserweevilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109055589386485566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3893504811921089789.post-48001703660203642202019-08-07T21:27:00.001-07:002019-08-07T21:27:45.817-07:00This boy<div><br></div><div><img id="id_7411_47da_7b7b_c23e" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/jRJkOJkNiOM9vqNAeT8ixpTdRFqkngAKGsfa3ezHanr5kbf_Z3J60e2r4NQ" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br></div><div>We have finally booked everything for our trip to the UK and Ireland and I couldn’t be more excited! It is just a few weeks away now and I can’t wait to introduce my amazing David to my family - and of course meet his.</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_ebc_633_ea54_a0e3" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/z1_5uvvs_TM6tw69C8dkWXv8Tp35iGCFmAveFEebd9od3LI_Rd1Q_ePnY64" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br>And here’s a very early almost-dawn photo over Brisbane airport a couple of mornings ago. Not completely in focus but we were travelling at 300kts and it was taken on an iPhone in low light!</div><div><br></div><div><br><br></div>lesserweevilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109055589386485566noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3893504811921089789.post-38361362764961767862019-07-24T14:15:00.001-07:002019-07-24T14:15:34.463-07:00It is absolutely freezing! I am wrapped in blankets on the couch waiting for it to get warmer... and it probably doesn’t help that I have frozen fruit in my breakfast muesli which is cooling me from the inside out. <div><br></div><div><img id="id_6742_12f6_6f4a_f5fd" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/zAwB367FOvLwVNLEwoJMPCbQtyeBDaRTjkYJGTWEbYQrbHRSKYxJnCPcJmk" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br>David and I have only done a couple of climbs recently as my roster has been very busy and I have been very very tired. We did have a lovely climb up Beerwah in the semi wet and got some nice photos.</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_fc88_ab93_b4b2_5b3f" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/ZZp63uMHk7NEFv96SPJzWaANLH-lWWItbZvWPbdRBA1avCNEnyNS4SZJ0OI" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br> <img id="id_3ba7_c709_af7e_57b0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/umqkQHP8waP2_oB8b5inWZXOKD6gLs3RdqgQhwUS_icvC6ySQsFnnd-ZKNM" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br>It was good fun although I do prefer climbing when it is dry.</div><div><br></div><div>We also saw a beautiful Beerwah sunset</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_d1a4_cf67_54ae_cadb" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/K4aOCTyg6BGrlrB1EII94hskFRQbzlmIkxVwhXqU5bWnaXN22sCnILV3YtM" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br>This photo is looking East back towards Coonowrin (left) and Tibrogargan just right of the shadow of Beerwah.</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_ffcb_301c_8735_df6" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/2bmGK6ZMR2Y-ob4vKYF5OXS3-WJI1Lx8AWu2JaIizuvxyMtT9dLMM1JlQq0" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br>We also went flying with Lily, in the 172RG and she wasn’t terrified all of the time ... she didn’t like full power but seemed to like Dave’s practice forced landing! </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_947b_4b50_d360_2d5" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/MoFWZZleYBbPPetO1Cv78nl38yeszByEuEHXetNPww_eqFmMoGRLdOD5g1A" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br>Here’s a nice shadow of the aeroplane, coming in to land</div><div><br></div><div>We also got Dave a new car! Very exciting, and we pick it up in a week or two after finance is approved </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_1290_c964_756f_6e4f" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/cEtrA8N8S8tuj1D3XZ2jdPyFxoGHzSkvh41vVrxz31k-fREagtiRBw2-1W4" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br>Doesn’t he look smart? He had just completed a job interview to be an engineering instructor, which went really well and we are really hoping he gets. It would be initially a casual position but potentially with a full time position available in the future. Either way, a government job that would be much more reliable than his current company! It’s not the BEST time to be buying a new car, with so much uncertainty, but he needs a vehicle to be able to get to work, and his old Camry is so dodgy now, I’m worried for him every time he drives it. Not only does it have 350,000km on it, but it also steers left dramatically, the steering vibrates through the steering wheel, and two out of four wheels wobble alarmingly as you drive... so we didn’t have much of an option other than to replace it!</div><div><br></div><div>Anyway that’s about it for now - I’ll try to make the next post sooner!</div><div><br><br><br></div>lesserweevilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109055589386485566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3893504811921089789.post-59980521656827121392019-07-05T14:35:00.001-07:002019-07-05T14:35:41.160-07:00
<p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It’s hard to explain why I haven’t blogged lately. It’s not like I don’t have down time, I do, but it’s more like I don’t really think about it any more. And when I do, no words really come to me. </span></p><p class="p1"><img id="id_77b9_3c40_f4c0_6684" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/SnmZ1Tt5ldcp6r3GWLpTLmJTOmAM_37DBn-5ciECA6SI2ndDc2Y8P1GHQ2w" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><i>Just a random cute picture of my child</i><br><br></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">And now to recap on June... it was an insanely busy month from a work point of view, and my only weekend off was the very last weekend of the month, so by then I felt like I was beginning to forget what D looked like! This last weekend was D’s birthday, and I managed to get 3 days off to spend with him - unfortunately on the very first day I got a head cold so we had a quiet few days.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Even so, it was so nice just to be together. </span></p><p class="p2"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">We have got a few climbs in but not as many as I was hoping - that weekend off we had planned to climb every day but being sick, I didn’t have the energy.</span></p><p class="p2"><img id="id_71e1_65e1_eb51_ad8" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/8WcOrktFnv2fnMypRPp2zkgiaRG2ofZzNgGNOzfhQBrnEZ5dR9vKSb48zAA" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><i>Us on Beerwah for a VERY cold sunset</i></p><p class="p2"><i><br></i></p><p class="p2"><img id="id_ac2e_4de1_527a_c693" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/m3KJALEWuhgmyiuG50DYbQqlMvwgow1rh17qEhn6y4ubIGpui1aoW2cAs-Q" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><i>Said sunset</i><br><br></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">There has been lots of uncertainty with D’s job over the past few weeks. Even now, the company is technically closing down but D is keeping it ticking over enough to keep him and one other guy employed. It is very stressful for him though, and we were hopeful last week when he got a job interview - but that was then cancelled a couple of days before.</span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We were hoping that D’s daughter would be able to visit us during the July school holidays but unfortunately this didn’t happen (again) so we are travelling down to Hobart next weekend for a couple of days. That will hopefully go as well as it did last time... maybe better! D will go for four days and I will join him halfway through for two days, as my roster is once again pretty packed.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Today, we are going on a 3 hour river cruise. Yes, me, on a boat. D’s idea, obviously, as there is a US aircraft carrier in Brisbane this weekend and the cruise is specially laid on to see it. Should be fun, if I don’t fall in the water and get eaten by bull sharks. Then, tonight we are going to a leaving party for one of my ATR friends who is moving to New Zealand.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">And that is all the blogging you get... I leave you with a final cute photo of my child</span></p><p class="p1"><img id="id_6ebc_b235_9719_11d6" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/OUGvMfV-XDf6CA76PuZ9tQcOdI0fP3yQYGqovzp_of2hj1TwfHvL3-slQlY" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br></p>lesserweevilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109055589386485566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3893504811921089789.post-83093923701068500672019-05-17T13:31:00.001-07:002019-05-17T13:31:38.543-07:00(Temporary Backup) Back at workIt happened! After 9 long weeks, my return to work happened glitch free. I narrowly scraped inside the time window for revalidation, at 67 days only needing to complete 2 training flights. If I had hit 70, the requirement would have been 10 training flights plus a check. It was made a little harder due to having only had 3 days’ work since my month in Africa, but it wasn’t long before the rustiness fell away. (Nice excuse though)<div><br></div><div>After my reval, I was supposed to just have a few quiet days on reserve and days off before work started in earnest, but when offered a 4 day trip with bucketloads of overtime, it was impossible to refuse.</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_7835_7577_6bad_e038" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/_tnPmqgFb_nMxHpJxj4elGNpED9awqPgqOEDMfWM3loDTUIflz737NAWW6c" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br></div><div>This trip had me covering Sydney flights, overnighting at the Gold Coast, right beside the beach. It was odd being so close to home (90 min drive) and a pity that D couldn’t join me due to work, but the location was amazing!</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_3d98_88ab_687_48fd" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/IM_g3-r-BjMe7Fo4Js8pluuSKEpipUJ0cEaa54h5pwsq0WbTTLVdFEh4AsY" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br>Four days began to feel like a really long time before I finally got to go home - for one short day!!! It was then off again, overnighting in Cairns this time, where it rained and rained and rained.</div><div><br></div><div>I got home late last night at 2300 and quickly packed to travel to Hobart this morning, this time for “fun”. Getting up with my alarm at 0415, I felt like a zombie well after arriving at the airport. Scraping onto the flight with the very last standby seat, I am now using the QF free wifi to blog on my way to Sydney - where I will hopefully scrape onto the mostly-full flight to Hobart. </div><div><br></div><div>This is a big weekend: today is when I meet D’s daughter, C (9), and tonight we are going to dinner with his ex and her new partner. I have to say I am a lot more nervous to meet the ex than to meet C! However, it is very important that I do so, as we are really hoping that C will be allowed to travel up to Brisbane in the upcoming school holidays.</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_58c7_db57_faed_e20e" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/W1fe3bFoy9z31xwQs0EKj81_SIdtso_DuDnIWZ8xheNAtxL-83clROxFE7A" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br></div><div>There was a really beautiful rainbow over the house when I left for work a couple of days ago, so here you are! An early morning K&D residence shot, with a rainbow. Or two. </div><div><br></div><div>In other news, it’s just a couple of weeks now until I can go climbing again! My wrist is still somewhat sore when I use it, and aches quite a bit at night time, but with lots of heat pack and massage treatment, it is continuing to heal well and strengthen. I doubt it will ever be 100% but I will keep working on it!</div><div><br></div><div>Anyway the cabin crew are bringing around breakfast now, so i</div><div><br></div><div><br></div>lesserweevilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109055589386485566noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3893504811921089789.post-78599272342423816322019-04-22T17:30:00.001-07:002019-04-22T17:30:14.210-07:00AprilApril has come and almost gone, and despite being off work, I’ve still managed to fit a lot into the month! The hardest thing has been the loss of independence due to not being able to drive. It is amazing how quickly one learns to do things with one arm - and even then, after the first two weeks in the cast, I was able to use my left hand for light things like holding a fork, etc.<div><br></div><div>Since then, a lot of my days have been spent at work with Dave, working on things like fixing the P51d (Mustang) which was both fun and frustrating at the same time. It has given me a much greater appreciation for the work that engineers do! </div><div><br></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);">We have been on a few short hikes up Coochin and Ngungun, although I won’t be able to climb my favourites for another few weeks until the tendon is stronger. We have watched sunsets, been to the beach, and spent a glorious weekend away in Noosa together - our first mini holiday!</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);">I also went down to Melbourne for a couple of days to visit a friend, and this coming weekend we are going to Hobart to visit Dave’s daughter. This will be my first time meeting C, so I am a little nervous! </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);">The last couple of days have been a bit hectic - we almost got the Mustang finished, and then on the first engine run, a drive shaft snapped which may mean the removal of the entire engine, which is a massive job... ugh. After all the hard work of the last couple of weeks it was a bit depressing! Then, Lily suddenly developed an abcess and was in to the vet’s for emergency surgery, and the very same day I seem to have developed tonsillitis. I can only say that I am very thankful that this has happened before my return to work.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);">It looks like I may be back at work in two weeks... I am now seeing a private occupational therapist as I wasn’t making much progress with the public system. My new OT thinks that two weeks might be a bit fast, but I am determined to work hard towards it. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);">This week, due to the Mustang being officially broken, Lily needing 24h supervision, and being a bit under the weather myself, I am keeping myself busy around the house. My wrist exercises alone take up 4h30 of each day (6x45mins).</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);">Also, we are another step closer to booking our trip to the UK and Ireland in September, as we have found flights - I just need Lily’s vet bill to clear off my credit card before I can book them 😂</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><br></span><br></div>lesserweevilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109055589386485566noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3893504811921089789.post-64543536158727856382019-04-03T15:37:00.001-07:002019-04-03T15:37:19.898-07:00My second housemate moves out today, which signals the end of an era. My first housemate moved out at the end of January (he bought a house) and was efficiently organised in the weeks proceeding the move. Everything was boxed up, everything was carefully loaded into the Ute for the minimum number of trips to the new house, and the move proceeded to schedule.<div><br></div><div>My second housemate decided not to pack. He scheduled his move for yesterday and today (he got the keys two days ago) and decided just to throw things in the back of the car and “the house isn’t far away” so it didn’t matter how many trips (but every trip takes thirty minutes out of the day in driving alone). He got side tracked during the first trip and spent a few hours at the new house cleaning gutters and so on. He got side tracked on the second trip with multiple phone calls (at his usual top volume) to friends, and so far he hasn’t moved anything out of his bedroom at all. (“I’m just going to tip the drawers into the boot.”)</div><div><br></div><div>He got a phone call last night from work asking him if he could do an overtime shift, so this morning he has gone to work, leaving him just the afternoon to move house. I’m not quite sure how he is going to do it, considering he hasn’t even put his pantry contents into a box yet, or packed Anything At All from his bedroom. But we shall see! It is all quite amusing watching the process - and I am systematically going through my cupboards and putting his things on the spare bed as I know he will forget them otherwise!</div><div><br></div><div>In other news... there is no news. I go back to the hospital this morning to have my splint amended - then another two weeks splinted and two weeks after that doing exercises and then hopefully back to work! Lily isn’t going to know what hit her - she is loving having me home and trails behind me every time I move off the couch. </div>lesserweevilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109055589386485566noreply@blogger.com2