Leaky Eyes and Retail Therapy

Well.

The year and a bit of court proceedings in two countries did not do it.

Finding out my husband wanted to divorce me a year and before he began the court proceedings did not do it.

Packing my life into 35 boxes and several rolled paper packages and sending it all off on a ship did not do it.

Living with friends and their children and my children and being carless and homeless and slightly stressed did it. My eyes they leak. At least that is what I told my children repeatedly this morning before we took them to school. I could not take it anymore. Living in someone elses home and not having a vehicle tipped me over the edge. I cried my way through the lunch prep, breakfast routine and school drop off. My oldest did point out to me that my eyes were not leaky, I was crying and he'd really like to know why. He was on a warpath. My middle opted to cry with me, which only made the leaking worse. My youngest chose to ignore the leaking altogether, the leaking was occuring within the first ten minutes of her waking to begin with, and therefore falls into the catagory of NOT ACTUALLY HAPPENING-mornings are hideous enough, why make it worse by acknowledging the leaky problem?

I decided to take back some of my independence. I can not control the ducts in my eyes but I can control just how much I pay for a used car. I knew what I wanted. I had researched. The used car dealer had no idea I had learned all I have ever known about negotiations from my experiences in mediation with my ex-husband and his slimy lawyer, that and my dear friend Dr. Fiona who told me prior to the mediation to channel the smiling assassin. Ta for that one Fiona, now it has come in handy twice. I wanted the car. I needed the car. My son has a soccer tournament 2 and a half hours drive from here this weekend. White is my favourite color for a car. I really like Honda, I think they run forever. I did not really want the car that was down the road that I had driven after looking at the white one. All information that I knew that I chose not to share with the used car guy. I gave him my offer, I looked him in the eye, I smiled, and I waited. I am actually quite comfortable with silence, I have 3 children silence is rare, embrace it, savor, and enjoy. So I did. He left the room. He came back. I smiled. he talked about stuff, you know, taxes, title and other fees. I gave him my offer, I looked him in the eye and I smiled. I got my price, my warranty, and same day - my white car.

I do not suggest repairing leaky eyes with retail therapy, but it worked for me today.

Next time, it's Half Price Books for me,
and I might just stick to buying books for my kids.

Lightening Bugs and Margaritas

I took the dreaded jack russell who has a napoleonic view of the world for another walk. We are walking alot lately. He needs the exercise to tame that attitude and settle him a bit for his indoor life. I need the endorphines that generate from the exercise after looking after six kids, and I need the silence of walking in a quiet neighbourhood. While we walk I am retraining the dog-who-thinks-he-rules-the-planet, one of the nieghbours dog, a beautifully natured lab, has in the past had issue with the jack russell trying to overpower her. It has been interesting reminding little napoleon that walking is a much nicer outing when he sits and watches as beautiful lab walks by rather than morphing into a tyrannt, that his overindulgent owner has let him get away with previously.

So we walk.

A couple nights ago we walked and on the way home, I spotted Lightening BUGS!
The bugs brought to mind a sweet time in my childhood. Before my mum married my stepfather, my sister and I used to roam free as little birds, as a parent I find my mum's hands-off laizefaire attitude to childrearing slightly scary, but as a little urchin I LOVED it. I wandered the neighbourhood completely independent of adult input, climbing to my hearts content, and running around with the other urchins in the neighbourhood, occassionally I had to tolerate my sister's input but that too was rare, we came to an understanding quite young in our life "she who tattles -SUFFERS!" It worked for us. She ran and got me an icepack, an ice cream sandwich and a neighbour when I got partially impalled on a tree. True sisterly love. The lightening bugs brought it all back.

I did not see lightening bugs in Australia.

I realize now that I missed them.
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Post walk and budget talks with my friends that I am staying with I caught up with a friend in town. She had blown in to rapid fire advertise all over town for her upcoming shin-dig. We met up, and parked ourselves at a cute little Mexican cantina look-alike, to talk life over Margaritas and chips and queso. Life is ever so sweet. Good friends are precious, and friends who have seen you through years of stuff in life are a commodity that can not be measured. Nice to see the town I currently live in and have chosen to raise my babies in, through another's eyes. Eyes that like mine like to see the good all around us. Optimism is fabulous and catching.

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The Texas A&M women's soccer team dominated Uni of North Carolina. I took the kids to see the girls play last night. We parked ourselves with some friends and some of their friends in amongst the Uni students to yell our team to victory. UNC is ranked 4th, we are 9th. They were favourites. They were confident. 8,204 fans made sure we held that in check for them. Two halves passed with nil all. The first period of overtime passed still nil all. The Aggies had controlled the game each time they got the ball, quite regularlly stealing the ball to take a shot at goal. The second overtime period was drawing to a close, it was 10:28, the girls won the ball at halfway, sent it up, showed some grand skills and then rocketed a goal home with 2 minutes left on the clock. The stadium went bananas. It was loud and ruckus. My babies and I love it.

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I don't know why I worry.

But I do.

On the way home from the match, my oldest informed me that a girl asked him out today.

I visualised my favourite beach and calmly inquired what his response to that was, I get points somewhere for that.

He said "um, that's nice but no thank you." and then he added for my benefit, "what was she thinking mum? I'm way too young to date."

Bless you sweet innocent little Australian boy!

I might need a rum though.

So we had a visit from the sheriff.

I am looking after a couple extra children this weekend. Their parents are away with their older brother.

So five kids, a soccer tournament and a very hyper ill-mannered jack russell.

My son is playing his first tournament with his new team here. It has been a good day. The boys played well. The coaches are still sorting out who plays best where. It is interesting watching them catch onto that one. Between matches today I took the five I am watching, plus two home to play. The two extra-extras were a favor to their mum who needed to take her littlie home for a nap between the matches. And really once you are watching five, why blink at seven?

So the afternoon was great, fresh air, sunshine and lots of good healthy food. It is all good.

The morning, well, it was interesting.

Before 10 am we had set off the house alarm, not my children but the ones who actually live here and know that the alarm is set, broken a bowl, talked to the alarm company and had the visit from the sheriff.

The alarm people send a cop out when you set off the alarm and they call and you don't know the passcode. The sheriff, sans cowboy hat, said he figured I was not robbing the place, since I was in my pajamas and I had a whole "passel" of kids running wild. I am very glad he left the big hat in the car because that after "passel" I nearly lost it, he might have had to cart me off to the padded room for nutters because I barely kept my laughing inside until he was gone.

Yeah.

And generally, I try and save the robbing until after my morning Dr. Pepper.

Happy Hour

I have put a contract on a house. I might be crazy but at least we won't be homeless any longer.
My least responsible bone would dearly love to take the 3 kids and wander the planet and see what we see, learn about cultures different to the two we know intimately. Thankfully the mummabear part of my mind has won out. I will buy a house, settle my wandering feet and be thankful for the 6 monthly return trips to Australia. For as long as they might last. I will find a job and raise my half grown babies in a peaceful house full of madness. Only the good kind of course. The dancing around the kitchen while we're cooking and all talking at once about the good bits/bad bits of our days, running like looneys in the back garden while we try and whip each other at soccer, and wrestling - the boys mostly but little miss can hold her own.

Now if I can only convince a lender to give me the money. I would not if I was them but hey who am I to tell them what to do? It is not a habit I have, why start now?
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Kids are extremely resiliant. They amaze me. And inspire. The boys have started at new schools. The oldest at one he has NEVER been to before. They both know a couple kids at their schools, but don't actually have any in their classes. Yet I pick them up in the afternoon and ask them about the day. Good they say. They sat with so and so at lunch and the computer teacher blabs too much and could we just get on with it already? And they are happy. Amazing. We are on the opposite side of the planet, have switched seasons, left behind all the familiar (at least with regards to school) and they get up, get ready and happily attend school. I am impressed.
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3 adults 6 kids and 2 cars.

It is bedlam.

We all still like each other.

We are ever so glad for Sonic Happy Hour.

last day of summer

I love the summer! Kids playing, staying up late, sleeping in, popcorn at all hours of the day, reading as many books as we can squeeze in, swimming, swimming, and more swimming.

We have only had two weeks officially of summer, but we've have sure loved it!

So today was our last day of summer. We slept late, played some games, floated in a friends blissful pool, ate pizza and brownies, lamented the fact that school starts tomorrow. If that's not a nice way to finish off the summer, I don't know what is.

As a mum, a not nice way to finish off the summer was the mad-house shopping on the eve of school commensing, even if I did go with two friends. I only needed dry erase markers, 3 pencil cases and black gym shorts and white t-shirts. My friends needed lots of other stuff. It turned into a marathon. 3 shops, 2 Sonic drinks and only 2 little bags later (for me anyway), a fair amount of laughter and we were done.

I can't say I am calm. I am not.

My boys are nervous, I am nervous. My sweet girl is not, she gets an extra week holidays, her school doesn't start for a week, she and I are equally thankful. I don't want them to struggle to be understood, I know they will though. I want them to ask questions about the things they don't understand, for the most part I am pretty sure they won't. I want them to have fun. I want them to make lots of friends. I just want it to all go smoothly. I hope the intermediateboy gets a great locker and cool mates to sit near. I hope elementaryboy finds a great mate to play with at recess. And I hope imperial maths comes easy to them both!
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House buying. I know the one I want now I just have to charm the bank into loaning me the money for it. So easily said.

Car buying. I've got my eye on one, I just need to wait until after the bank loans me the money for the house and then I can skippity-do-da over the the car place and purchase my lovely little second hand beauty.

Job-hunting. I am hopeful. There's a plan. Get the kids in school, a house and then tackle the job.

I got a mobile phone. I burst the poor little sales guys bubble. Do I want it to take photos? Do I want it to text message? Do I want it to play music? Do I want it email? GPS? Wash the dishes? Find me a bloke? Change the oil? Raise my kids? Track my kids? The poor bloke. I told him I wanted the phone to make calls and receive calls. And I did not wish to have the million minute plan. Practical and boring. But it works for me. So now I have a phone. The number is easy to remember, and it takes photos and I did not have to pay for that bit. Happy.
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My phone has a picture on the screen. It is a beach. Some bits of Australia just stick like sand to your sunkissed toes.

Tortilla chips and salsa

Food is a blissful thing.

Sharing spectacular food with great friends is beyond measure. This past weekend the kids and I left our house/car/school/phone hunting responsibilities 3 hours behind and traipsed off to Keller Tx to visit some friends. We drove straight through Calvert Tx, a tiny little town we all oogled at for it's oldtimeyness and it's reminiscent downtown storefronts, promising ourselves that next time we drive to Keller, mum will NOT forget the camera, we can take a photo of the the beautiful shopfront bearing the name Oscar Building.

Seeing the building stirred up a whole flurry of conversations about the brothers and the boy himself who bears the buildings name, happy-happy conversations! Only 18 wks until we see them again!

So Keller. The kids have grown and matured. Goes without saying, but it is still astonishing when you are looking face to face with a boy you have known since the Wiggles were cool in your house. And yes - time to face the music chinstickergirl, he is taller than you! With a graciousness that Mississippi breeds her husband encourages, humors, and baffles (it was the dancing no one thought I witnessed) and all without being over the top, pleasant to be welcomed in their home. Lots of swimming, feeding of the masses, dogwalks, late night talks and hugs later, and all is just a little bit sunnier in life.

It had been a bit over 14 months since I'd last visited. We have lived a decade in that time. We are somewhat hardened and softened all at the same time by what we have endured. Our year has been rough, but we have learned more than we will ever be able to put into words I am sure. But (yes, J there is always a but, lucky I am cute eh?) the kids walk in and it is as if we left last weekend. They are all bigger and with much longer hair, but the friendship that has spanned an ocean picks up right where it left off 14 months ago. That's just so pleasantly comforting.

And.


You can never consume too many tortilla chips.

Don't Hide the Rum.

Surviving the madness of the immigrating check-in with one out of date passport.

It is a test of mental stamina.

A purchase of a one way flight out of the USA for a future date, TA - Mrs. S - you are a treasured friend, saved the sanity at the beginning of the trip. As if it wasn't stressful enough to leave many loved ones behind, and return to a country I haven't lived in for nearly a decade, with three kids and now single. The ick lived on as we barely made our flight. Come to find out the ticket counter-people had been communicating about us with the flight crew. The drinks trolley lady stopped by and delivered little blessed beverages for me VERY shortly after take off, reassuring me that all would be well now.

Los Angeles is a different story. It is long, it is ugly. The children and I survived it, however, we will avoid it like the plague from here on out. We will fly through San Fran. I like it better anyway. I have shamed myself from ever returning to LA. We all cried our way through missing our flight, and trying to sort out the new flights to Houston with the two cats. The cats cried too. It was pitiful, I can never go back through there. I am blaming it on the stress of the last three years that finally all leaked out my eyes on that hideously long day.

So no. Don't hide the rum. I am certain pirates were onto something. It is medicinal.

I'm back.

For years I let it slip away, I let someone other than me dictate life.

I gave away control for the greater good or so I thought.

So last night I went out for dinner with a friend who is a guy. He is not married to any of my friends, or anybody else for that matter, we are in similar places in life, both having survived hideous marraiges. Survival of the fittest if you are a darwinist. Bloody strong if you're not. So it's not going anywhere other than friendship, I am leaving the country in a week. But that said. Nice to go out. Very nice to sit across a table from a handsome bloke. Share a meal. Talk and laugh. Extend a friendship that has nothing to do with your previous life. Good for the soul, well that might be a stretch, but surely good for the confidence.

Pleasant to realize that after all the years of being controlled that you can happily make well thought out decisions that are in fact good for you. Nobody gets hurt. There are plenty of situations to laugh about. Not bad.
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The house has turned to bedlam. If I had to stay longer than a week, I'd end up in a padded cell with my daily delivery of medicated bliss. There are piles, piles, piles. Piles of clothes to be given away to various people. Piles of books to take down to the second hand book seller. Piles of summer clothes to be packed in a suitcase to take on the plane. Piles of winter clothes to wear so we don't freeze before we depart, why we need record breaking lows the week before departure is a funny Murphy-like irony. Piles of winter clothes to be shipped because after 14-18 weeks when the boat arrives with our stuff we might want those warm clothes. Piles of ski, snorkle and camp gear to be shipped. Piles of photos, arkwork and kids trophy's to be shipped. Yikes. If I was ruthless we would take nothing other than what we could carry on the plane. BUT - there is often one, I don't want my babies to forget the time we lived here, maybe the icky bits where their father turned into a board weilding control freak, we can forget that bit, but the rest, our lovely friends and great sport and beaches we visited we need to remember, so the piles, while they might make me nuts, will be fine in the end.
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3 sleeps til I get my babies back.

6 sleeps til we leave the country.

how many sleeps before we're settled again? It is going to be a fun, crazy time.

Too much control, really.

Tossing out is good for the soul.

3 boxes have thrived under our bed for years. Mass dust bunny production. Whole communities of allergens have spawned there within the box neighborhood. The boxes are now vanquished. It was a hard battle, a war fought for the greater good, that being the miserly skimping of shipping unwanted items 8000 miles across the ocean. It is a worthy war. I have not needed the items in the boxes, they've been sorted and stacked for years, and things have come and gone from the boxes. But today was the armageddon of boxes. I tossed the boxes with all their contents n the bin. Lest I, in a weak moment, decide that no, I really need that t-shirt from 1988.
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As people go, he has control issues. I knew by the grip on the incoming mail, the locking up of the paperwork that runs a household, the insane interest in anything that could possibly be purchased for the house. Thank goodness it didn't start out that way, and we had quite a few great years, not to mention the 3 best human beings on the planet. And at least I know without a shadow of a doubt what caused the downfall into madness - religious zealous fanaticism. They are constant, and I'll be glad to board a plane with the babies in 8 days.

BUT - there has to be one,

Nothing made me laugh so hard as realising his control issues extended to fixed artwork. We have for the last 5 years had a framed needlework hung above the window over our sink. He'll be damned if that frame comes down, apparently, it's a hell and purgatory for him, because he hasn't just hung it on a nail, he's hammered the wire into the wall with a staple into the dent between the v-j-boards. That sucker was NEVER EVER coming down or gonna move. I guess if you can't control those around you, transfer some of that vengence onto the innocent decorative objects around the house. Lock down your staples Australia, cultman is going to be on the loose!

mr. inspection - he's obviously misled.

His highness of all thoughts of self-importance continues to believe there are some directions he is allowed to give. He is wrong. This is where the losing the collossal court battle must start to rub, for him anyway. The property bit was signed off on over a month ago. If there was any negotiations to be done, they are to happen BEFORE you sign the final document. His Highness of all things small should have thought of the house inspection prior to the signing of all the legal documents thanks. No I don't have to let you IN the house, why?

Oh, I'm going to go with the 3rd grade response of "because the federal judge said so."

I signed a legal document stating I'd leave the house in the condition it came to me in. Nothing like covering your bum. The house is eighty years old. I could invite a band of rogue possums in and legally I'd be covered. Really though I have 2wks to pack 9 yrs, 3 kids and 2 cats worth of stuff, not to mention the going aways and morning teas, and girls nights out to celebrate being free of the bastard, why would I waste one more second of my life on messing up his precious house. I got the kids and I get to leave the country.

an inspection? go smoke it.

Pockets

Cleaning out children's bedrooms when they are not present is a completely different experience.

One of my boys has a habit of putting treasures in his pockets. Now when he was in Grade 1 the kids did a large project studying the waste and saving of water in everyday practices. It was done solely at school during classtime. We live in drought stricken Queensland so there is a purpose to the study of water usage at age 6. The education department figures if nothing else if your little grade 1'er is badgering you every time you turn on a tap for a year eventually you'll change the water use practices. They are right. It makes washing up and cleaning clothes covert activities. Back to my second son. He has since grade 1 been very particular about cleaning his clothes, they have to be really dirty for to put them in the wash on his own. So concequently I have to occassionally search and rescue the clothes needing a wash from his drawers. Now the kids have been with their dad 8 days now. I have gotten around to the sorting making a collossal mess stage of the getting the house ready for the packers in a week and a half. I was not all that suprized to clean out said sons drawers this morning and find shorts, they did not look dirty by the way, but upon trying to fold them I found TREASURE! A grey plastic medieval knight (like the little green army guys but from Roman times), a red plastic bicycle with rolling wheels, a royal blue pipe cleaner, and a napkin from COLD ROCK ice cream - unused. Now I remember the day he stashed these treasures, we don't go to Cold ROck very often. It was a great day! What fun to find. I am promising myself not to grimace the next time some of these little treasures go through the wash and I open the lid on the machine to see miniscule bits of white flecks all through the wash, because today my heart sang remembering. Now my other son, he refuses to wear shorts with pockets, he's the one I'll need to keep close tabs on in teenagehood, he's already aware of not leaving any incriminating evidence. Yikes.

Playing with Fire?

It's my dad's birthday! I hope he ate chocolate cake for breakfast! You really need to on your birthday, in the interest of world peace and harmony.
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I have managed to organize a shipping company, an animal transport carrier, and collect all the records we will need to have upon our return to the USA. But still it doesn't feel lke I've done enough. The departure date is looming, like the sweaty build up of a summer storm, 16 days and hell or high water we are boarding that plane.

I hate packing. I loathe packing. It is tempting to just leave it all in the house that his hideousness wanted so badly. Knowing my babies will return here in 6 months time for a visit keeps me from doing just that. Again it's not about him, it is about what is best for them. They do not need to return to the house where we lived for so long as a family and see it as we left it. They do not deserve that heartache, and that is exactly what he would do to them. I know because when we came back last July after 7 months away, that is what we walked into. It's not healthy. I wish he would think of that. It is as likely as world peace but I can still hope for it while not holdng my breath. Most likely he'll stay trapped forever in the misery of his cult believing he is doing God's work all they while he's lost the most precious of treasures.
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Rugby players ears warrant enough notice to prevent my sons from ever playing that game.
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It is a mix of the two.

I can still remember the dread, my belly seeming to drop outside my body when the babysitter yelled at my sister and I. I had never seen him do much of anything other than sit at the table , push his glasses back up his nose and study those books. I was in love, the books, in my seven year old mind, books that big, with their sturdy hard backs that looked like they'd been read over and over and over again, had to hold some fabulous wonderful stories. The horrible words he yelled while his neck turned red. We had heard those words at school. "there's a tornado coming!" I remember running to the bathroom, feeling like my belly was back there somewhere in the living room with an entire bag of the valetines love heart candy rotting in it.

The tingling in my hands, the fluttering of my heart in my chest, the warm flushing of my face as his lips headed for mine, the thrill racing through my teenage mind.

The dread and the thrill, the pendulum swings with alarming rapidity between the two. Flirting after divorce.

Final being the KEY word.

Final orders. Did he not understand? When you go to court, the JUDGE makes FINAL orders.

Final meaning that's it, no going back, it's all over smokey. He's the federal Judge what he says goes! It doesn't matter that you the lowley husband who took me to court don't like his decision, since you took it to the realm of the courts to decide - HE GETS THE LAST SAY!!!! There is no more negotiating, if he says we're allowed to return to the USA with or without you, he means it. So we will go. You can play all the games you want, you bugger, but that is all they are is games. And in three weeks, the babies and I will get on a plane and leave and return and make a new home an ocean away.

The shipping quote is more than all 4 international plane tickets, the cats cargo ticket/vet check/etc., and the amount you plan on spending at Duty Free, it's not a good sign.

Leftover birthday cake should be a food group all it's own, with the recommended daily allowance intake being advocated for breakfast.

Packing requires LOTS of cake. It's a well known law.

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I will miss the way Australians pronounce kno-W-n. They just love that W.

I already miss Tallebugerra Beach. Beauty.
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I am looking forward to CLIMATE CONTROL. More the opportunity to use it if I choose not to get frostbite on my skinny little fingers as they type. Queenslanders are fabulous in summer where their height from the ground helps them to remain cool and comfortable and breezy. Not so much in winter, where inside the house is significantly colder than the outside temperature.

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Happy 4th of July!!!!!!!!! I should be shooting the breeze, playing cards and drinking beer with my family at the lake. Instead I am 8000 miles from home packing a house and worrying about my babies. I'll spend the evening post soccer training, running down to Southbank to have dinner and catch a movie with another friend who is going through an impossible situation. I'll have a glass of wine instead of a beer, there will be no cards, but the company will be fantastic and the food delicious - the evening very fun, but possibly not as loud as the lake.

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Humfp.

The magical run has come to a screeching halt. All in the time it took to blow a whistle.

The beautiful game, 11 Australian men gave it all they had for 94 minutes, then to be ROBBED in the final minute by a ref.

Actually most of the World Cup matches have been marred by poor refs. Today was jsut another sad example. Early in the second half he flashed a red card to the Italians that never should have been, at best it might have been a yellow card.

So the Italians were down to 10 men.

As the match wore on the Australians could not convert their hard work to goals, sad but painfully true. It's hard to get a ball through 8 men in the penalty box. We'll have to work on that.

But the saddest most pitiful part of the game, and the sole reasons why MILLIONS do not love the beautiful game occurred in the final minute of extra time. A DIVE. I don't get it, I'll never get it, it should not be a part of the game and MOST countries do NOT employ this tactic of falling to the ground at the lightest of touches. Grosso who for all intents and purposes looks to be a strong man, was felled by Lucas Neill's defending of the ball, from the ground. IN FACT Mr. Neill only made contact with the ball and Totti had all his weight on his RIGHT leg and dangled his left over the fallen defender, before collapsing to the ground in attempt to win a penalty kick. Which REF you should be ashamed of yourself for giving him! It was over before he ever kicked the penalty. What a sad way for it to end for the Australians World Cup campaign.

Humfp.

I knew it was going to be ugly

I know that he is hurt, and I know that he is afraid he will lose touch with the children, for the last nine years of living in Australia, he has told me how much I am a daughter to him. Hmmmmm.

So when he realized that his son wanted to be married to his cult rather than me, I am thinking that my father reacted slightly differently. He said to me as my father-in-law, you should just stay with him for the kids sake, I am sure he would not tell his own daughter that. If her husband was hitting their kids with a 2 by 4 in the name of Godly discipline, teaching their children that the male is dominate in all things and power unto himself, able to control all aspects of his wife and childrens lives without input from any of them - I am not certain he would sing the same tune. For starters, I don't care what they may or may not have done, children should not be hit with a 2 by 4 EVER. The is nothing GODLY about it. And when you stand over them and tell them you doing this is the name of God, they will want nothing to do with a God like that. I reckon when God is talking to husbands in the bible about being the head of the house it has much less to do with control than love. My father-in-law if he really were being supportive like an actual father, he might have been supportive when I had whooping cough and was flat on the floor nearly dead for 3wks, or when his son wouldn't buy his little boy new shoes when the old ones fell apart literally, or possibly again when his son refused to pay the registration on the car and I could not drive the children to school, those were instances where he could have shown his support. You would think he could understand the need for me to return back to my home country to the support of my family when he so obviously is not going to give it. He most certainly would not wish this on his own daughter. Hell she didn't even have children or a crap marraige and he wanted her "home" in Australia. So in the end I am not like his daughter, I am very much just the mother of his grandchildren and a woman whom he doesn't like very much at all because I won't do it his way. Well that's an old song and I am NOT SINGING IT. Can I just note here that my Australian friends here have been horrified at the very unaustralian nature of my in-laws on the whole, no one wants little australians treated this way, and if we were related to any of my Australian friends families I am sure the journey would have been different.

I don't think so.

WE DID IT!!!!

After 32 yrs, Australia has done it!!!!

We made it to the World Cup, and a nervous little start to the first match. Australia has shown their fitness and tenacity tonight, we won 3-1 against Japan - the Asian champions no less!

Japan's goal, it shouldn't have been. The interference with the goal keeper only would have been slightly more obvious if they guys had done a pigpile on Australia's #1. Open your eyes ref.

The house shook, we woke the neighbours, we ate ice blocks at midnight!!!! What a night!!

8,500 miles

There are days where this feels like home. Other days, not so much.

Granted, we don't speak the same language by a long shot. It's quite noticable at times. For example, on Fridays, it is very pronounced that I am not from here. I help in my little girls classroom with the other mothers to test the kids on their weekly spelling words. Several of the children I CAN NOT test. Because of my accent. They get words wrong, lots of words, occassionally all the words. It is not as if I have some huge southern drawl, people often take a while to guess where it is that I am from. So several little kids get to spell their words for the aussie mummies. Those days it feels like I am a long way from home.

Sitting in court listening to my ex's barrister insult me, I felt every mile.

Talking to my mother on the phone and trying to temper what I say so that she doesn't worry too much, I feel very far from home.

On the other hand, playing indoor soccer with friends and beating far younger opponents, well it feels pretty homey. Meeting girlfriends for coffee, and catching up on life, discussing my options with them about what I'll do depending on how the court case turns out, well it doesn't feel quite so far from home.

Still, I can't get a Route 44 or fresh tortillas, a hug from my momma, or a drink with my sister, 8,500 is a lotta miles.

Face the Fact

An ice pack does much better swellilng reduction if actually applied to the swollen area instead of the floor. TRUE

Tennis shoes have less traction than spideyman, especially on gravel. TRUE

After a full day at school, boys just might reach the end of their rope and decide to take it out on one another. TRUE

Witnessing boys taking out their frustrations might drive one to drink. TRUE

Grounding is a calming sedative employed by adults to lull children into pondering life in general and individual behavior specifially. TRUE

Some days you'd just like nothing better than to swap lives with anyone else, because really life is just icky. False.

They, the people who's brains aren't yet fully developed and who are entrusted in my care, they drive me nuts, they call me crazy, they try my patience, but I love them and really I wouldn't miss a minute of it. I'm fighting to keep every second of it. Craziness and all.

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3 kids , a trampoline and a bag of marshmellows.

lock the kids in the trampoline, it's got a special made enclosure just for this purpose, head upstairs and lean out an open window. Tell the kids to bounce.

Randomly toss marshmellows into the trampoline, watch the madness.

It's cheaper than therapy.

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We're going to see STOMP. I can't wait. The kids can't wait.

BASE JUMPER STRIKES AGAIN

Is it a bad sign when you ring the Dr.'s office and they instinctively know which child needs the emergency appointment after you've told them your surname?

I am thinking it is.

Either
A. Your on the childabuse watch list
B. They have a camera fixed on your house and saw you carry the boy up the front steps.
C. The impact reverberations from when the child hit the ground and then the large solid object fell on him reached the Dr.'s surgery.
D. They heard that horrific scream that came from your mouth, you know the one only dogs can hear, when you felt the house shake and just knew something awful was happening downstairs.
E. All of the above.

Anyway it's never a good thing. Not something you call your Grammie and boast about.

The crazieness continues without fail. You try and hold it back, you have lots of "Come to Jesus" talks with the boy about how the human body really is quite fragile and reasonably delicate.

It's the flying feeling that gets him everytime.

He decided to run and leap and swing on the roof rack that hangs when not in use underneath our highset house. Unfortunately, we did not use repelling ropes to suspend the 4wd rack from the beams under the house, so the ropes that were there, after a few jumps this time, well they broke, and like the nursery rhyme, baby came down only instead of a cradle to follow him, it was the roof rack and the timber door we were storing in that out of the way space.

It all landed on the base jumper's foot, thankfully not his neck.

The heel is BLACK.
The Dr. is highly amused, chuckling all the way through the child's telling him what he'd done this time.
The mother is rapidly aging and seriously considering a custom made Michellin Man suit for the boy.

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Queenslanders are not built for cold weather. It was 8 outside last night, it was 8 inside also.

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Chicken Stroganoff is an excellent comfort food!