For near on eight years I have bought countless water bottles for my girls. My husband has coined me an addict this year after I found the newest best thing in town.
We have tried Pumped, Smash, Deco, anything with a licensed picture on it, you name it. Oh and the aluminium bottles from the camping store last year when we decided camping would be fun. And then, yes, it rained all holidays and, for the record, it looks set to bucket down again this coming week.
But anyway, water bottles. All shapes and sizes, pop tops, screw off lids, ones that break, leak or just are generally ridiculously annoying. I believe at last count we had 12 water bottles in the house (not including Gumboot Girl's one with the straw or the one she drinks milk out of which is not technically a bottle but more of a sippy cup so says me).
Granted the girls need two each for school and Gumboot Girl now has a couple to lay claim too and me. Well I just want one that fits in my bloody cup holder in the car.
But this year! This is the year I have found them. We love our new water bottles and I'm so tempted to go and buy a stack of them because you can bet they will be one of those things that don't last long now that I love them so.
Only downside is they do leak (well Gumboot Girl's does so it may have more to do with her than the bottle) just a touch sometimes.
There is something so therapeutic about bubbles. Whether it be popping them on an iPhone game or blowing through a straw to make them form in your drink. It's fun. It always reconnects me to my inner child.
No wonder that we have always had bubble blowing equipment in our home since Miss Tween was old enough to appreciate them.
And it's relaxing to sit outside with the kids and blow bubbles. I don't know why. It just is what it is.
It's taking time to stop and do something really simple. But then it's more than that. It's watching my girls' faces light up (even Miss Tween still at the ripe old age of seven) when the bubbles emerge from that little wand.
It's the giggles they produce as they try and chase them or, even better still now, watch the dog chase them. It brings a sense of calm to me. I love watching the colours form as the sun hits them.
Crazy pooch!
Punk Chic got the most beautiful bubble wand for her birthday last year and, while it doesn't blow the best bubbles - let's face it, the simpler wands always produce the most/best bubbles - it makes her feel even more special to use it.
It has often been used as a means of calming my children on days at kindy when they didn't want me to leave. It's familiar.
With all the hype that was, leading up to the first day of school and the first day of Prep for our Punk Chic, it was a much needed activity to just take some time, stop and just be. And for some reason for us, bubbles give us that moment to just be. No rushing, no fighting, no stress.
So it was going well. Really well. Miss Tween was up and dressed and ready to go by 7:10am.
Punk Chic woke and was instantly filled with excitement about what her day would bring. She could hardly sit still to eat her breakfast. There were a couple of little incidents where Miss Tween would do something to "help" and Punk Chic would get upset because she was a big girl now and wanted to do it all herself but other than those couple of little things, nothing but pure excitement.
We actually managed to leave the house a little earlier than expected and as we were driving up the mountain we received a text from a friend just wishing Punk Chic a great first day at school. Nothing in there that seemed like it would be a trigger for anxiety so I read it out and told her who it was from.
She looked a little unsure so I grabbed her hand.
And that's when the tears started to fall. A river of tears. All the anxiety and excitement and fear that would have to have been building since Christmas. It just all came out. My poor little Punk Chic.
But right beside her the whole way was Miss Tween on one side with cuddles and Gumboot Girl on the other holding her other hand.
It was a moment that made me both proud and sad as I choked back my tears. To know how protective they are of each other ... words cannot describe the feeling it gives me. They may squabble but when the chips are down, they rally together. And knowing my two year old can already grasp that concept - she took Punk Chic's hand the instant she knew something was up - amazes me beyond words!
We arrived at the school and found the girls' classes for the year and off Miss Tween went with her friend to settle in.
Punk Chic reluctantly followed me to her classroom where she found a couple of friends from kindy and her other little mountain friend that she has known for a year. All in the same class. And there was play-doh.
And that was that. I lost her to a whole new world of friends and teachers and learning and playing and hopefully not too much sadness or fighting.
I am all at once so glad that my girls feel secure enough to leave my side and yet sad that I will miss so much of her each and every day now.
And Gumboot Girl has already asked to go and get the girls because she misses them.
*sigh*
Not long to go until we can pick them up now. And I am really looking forward to that!
Over the week we have successfully managed to cram six weeks worth of school holiday sleep overs and play dates into the very last week of school. Yes we have!
Our grand finale it would seem was having six (I know three are ours but still. There was SIX) kids here Thursday and only one going home that night. So I have been a mother to five little girls for the last 36 hours.
My findings?
It would appear that I am a clayton's large family lover! You know, quite happy to have them all here for a while and pretend they're all mine as long as I can hand them back when I'm sick of it. Which would be approximately 36 hours worth apparently.
While I love the noise and constant rumble the house makes with so many kids, I really don't think I could do it. All that cooking and cleaning and squabbling and mess. The mess! Oh. My. Word! But then I think of the washing! Can you imagine? I'm sure if you are a mother to a large family you totally get my drift.
I haven't even had to do any washing for this lot and I'm still talking myself out of there even being the slightest chance I could want any more kids just with the washing alone. I actually think it would have been a deal breaker for having number three had I had even the slightest inkling of the loads of washing that would be created having three little girls in my house.
It is tiring to say the least and these kids have been exceptionally well behaved. I really can't fault them. They all slept out in our new dance/rumpus room and it made me think again what a great teenagers' retreat that will be in years to come.
But I think this may very well be the first time I have left the kitchen. I know. Amateur right? Hard to synchronise them all at wanting to eat at the same time. Not lunch persay but the snacking. It. Just. Never. Stops.
It's made me realise even moreso that some people are good at this and others just dabble. That would be me. The latter of the two.
However, according to a clairvoyant I saw on my last trip to Melbourne, I have been a mother to a large family in numerous lives, so much so, that she was surprised I had any children at all this time around. Maybe I'm learning the art of less is more as my lives go by and by having other kids over it fulfills my sense of what I used to do/be/have once upon a previous life?
All I know is, I am exhausted! Imagine if I'd had a bad day with them.
I will, most likely be doing what I did three years ago when Miss Tween started Prep. Well except maybe the food part. Let's hope I've got a handle on that this time around.
I thought it might not be as daunting this time but it is. Even moreso I think because it is a different child going through it. With Miss Tween we had no doubt in our minds that she was going to love every minute of school. She was ready to go at three had anyone granted her wish.
But Punk Chic is a little different. She's more than ready. I know that deep down. She has made a great set of friends from kindy who will be starting with her. But. It's just her. I don't want to loosen my grip. I don't want to watch her leave the nest even for a school day just yet. She will be, more than likely, the youngest in her year being that her birthday is the day before the cut off date and, although I know she'd never enjoy another year on the sidelines, it's hard to get my head around the fact that some of the kids there will be almost a whole year older.
For some reason she seems so much smaller than Miss Tween at the same age and yet, looking back at photos, I know she's not. And her attitude may well be just as big if not bigger these days not that she has the endurance that Miss Tween did but still ... she is a mighty little fighter my girl.
And again I am torn between knowing how much she wants to be there already - she was bummed when she found out last week she had another whole week to go - and knowing how much I will miss her and trying to hide my anxiety so as not to mess up her big first day.
I will admit though that I am secretly excited that this is the year I can start reclaiming some time back for me. With two children at school full time and Gumboot Girl in kindy two days a week, I will actually feel like I have time to myself. Some of it will be used up with work no doubt (hoping so anyway) but I will most definitely be slotting in things for myself.
And I want to be mindful that I keep these times open for myself because it is important. To exercise. To get a facial. To do lunch. Just whatever. It's going to feel great and yet slightly naughty like a school girl playing truant.
So with all the book lists filled and the school bags prepared we can enjoy our last weekend of school holidays together as a family and count down to the big day. And it really is going to be big!
Speaking of swing dancing (you'd have to go right to the bottom of that post to even see it mentioned but I had to tie it in somehow) ...
Since the beginning of time ... well, okay, that's exaggerating just a little but seriously, after this many years of waiting, it started feeling like that.
We have a big garage out the front of our house. It isn't used, has never been used as a garage but more as a storage space. And then we had kids.
Figuring we would need to do more than just add a bird cage that could be locked at night to contain them all in, we decided we might make a rumpus room for them. Great plan right?
As long as there was no rush. And there wasn't. I guess. Which was lucky.
So I believe it was about four years ago that my dad and brother cut a whole in the wall for a door and framed up the two walls in preparation for plaster.
A year later (three years ago) the windows went in and then the plasterboard on the ceiling and the walls.
Somewhere in between then and now, we purchased some new roller doors for the other end of the room and installed them and even painted the walls. I have reason to believe - seriously my memory is that bad - that this was all before a certain little someone, now affectionately known to you all as Gumboot Girl, came along.
Sometime at the beginning of last year, with a three year old and one year old in tow, I made a mad unplanned dash to a shop that had flooring on sale that day. And I purchased it. And it sat all stacked neatly in the corner for the rest of the year.
And all the while it was still a storage shed. Then after arriving home from our Christmas up north, we received a phone call from a mate who had decided to come and pick up his car that was ... in the garage!
Yes. He really does think he's all that
and a bag of chips!
Being the opportunist* that I am, Monday morning I suggested to CJ that , being that he had another week off work - so didn't see that one coming and let's just say finances have suffered - he might want to look at laying the floor. And being that he was on call for work, he should do it tomorrow, you know, just in case they got busy.
And so it was that while I took the girls iceskating the boys worked tirelessly to lay the floor in one day. And when I say tirelessly I mean they finished it before we had even organised ourselves to go iceskating and headed off for some lunch and to get the (insert whatever the word is that goes around the edges of flooring. No. Not skirting board. I know that word!) and some skirting board (see!) and had it all finished by the time we got back!
My husband took me for a quick spin on the dance floor that evening and it was awesome! Miss Tween came to join in on the fun and had a little dance with her daddy too.
We have achieved!!!
Seriously though, it will make the best teenager's retreat EVA!!! Playstation (for the Sing Stars amongst us *ahem*), Wii, stereo, mirrors (for technique of course *ahem*). What more could the kids want. Apparently they've already turned it into a restaurant!
Who wants to come for a dance off!!!
*Please note that poor little Gumboot Girl still asks for her dummy on occasion and when we ask her where it is she says "Tip. Chook. Ate. Dummy." Yes, seriously. That's how she speaks. Like she is putting a full stop after each word. We always need to wait to make sure she has finished her speech before interrupting!
CJ and I were talking a couple of months ago about our children, mainly Miss Tween at the time, and how they are just a tad stubborn. If you call a tad, never backing down even when there is going to be a massive consequence at the end. And I was telling him that I do believe they get it from me, ever so slightly of course.
There was that one time that my mother washed my mouth out with soap, if you could call putting one of those little Avon rose guest soaps directly into my mouth, washing it out. Personally, I think she misunderstood the term but it's really neither here nor there now except the memory of the burning of the sides of my mouth. With all of this going on, I turned to her and said "This is yummy. Can I have some more?" Being a mother now myself, I can only imagine how much control my mother would have needed that day not to try and put 15 of those little rose soaps in my mouth at once. Little bitch that I so obviously was!
Or the time I was staying with my poor grandmother and refused to come inside until about 8pm. No promise of the best milkshake in town would cut it. Or when I refused to wash my hair and, as a last resort, my grandmother pulled out the "Your father is on the phone." It went along the lines of wash your hair before I get there or I'll wash it for you. Funnily enough, my dad was my weakness. I was (am) a Daddy's Girl through and through. I don't think I'm spoilt persay, but heaven forbid if my dad was disappointed in me. Gutted would be an understatement.
His girlfriends not so much. I remember going to live with Dad at 15. Poor guy. What was he thinking? Stand offs with the current girlfriend became a regular thing. I still maintain that, while I may have been a moody, possibly even bitchy, teenager, she behaved no better and should have known better than to be jealous of the relationship between a father and daughter especially considering the upheaval my life had had in moving there. But that's another story entirely. It wasn't the escape I had hoped for and caused a lot more drama than it should have. Completely out of my hands and a perfect example of adults behaving badly.
But then.
Then there was the stand off to end all stand offs!
Let me take you back. The year was 1985. It was the year of the hot pink cassette tape Choose 1985 - I can't tell you how many of these mixed tapes we collected over the years and how many I remembered fondly for so long. Sad but true - and I was desperate to go and see the hottest new movie in town. Ghost Busters!
My step brothers and sisters were up on holiday and I had made all the arrangements for us to go and see it. It was going to be rad! I could hardly sleep all that week with the excitement. This was my big thing for the holidays.
The details are a little blurry these days and I can't remember if my step sister was living with us this particular year or not but here's what I do remember. She had dobbed me in for something - again my memory fails me - that I had not done, to her.
My step father demanded that I apologise and I simply refused. I was not going to apologise for something I hadn't done no matter what - can you see where my girls get there righteous stubborn streak from yet? - and that's when he pulled out the big guns!
If I didn't apologise, I wouldn't be going with them to the movies. The mother of all ultimatums for this 12 year old! I was mortified and yet still I stood my ground. No way was I going to succumb.
And as I stood at the door and waved them all goodbye I even managed to smile, refusing to let them get the better of me. As soon as they pulled out of the driveway* and turned onto the next street, I called my friends from the down the road in tears and told them of my tragic tale. They were at my doorstep within minutes and we sat and played games and listened to the theme song over and over and over all the while suggesting that it was way better being at home. Deep down I knew it wasn't but I was so thankful to my friends for making me feel that way.
I still haven't seen that movie in its entirety so imagine how my heart leapt when, on arriving home from up north, I received some presents that had been forgotten in our usual hurried exit from the house. The girls gave me the most gorgeous little dragonfly charm to hang on my bracelet and from my husband? I got the double gift box set of Ghost Busters!
I still haven't found the time to watch it and to be honest, I'm a little scared it won't live up to the expectations I've been harbouring since that day. To watch it or not to watch it. Imagine the turmoil I find myself in!
*Looking back, I have no idea how all of us were going to fit in the car and now I probably don't want to know and can take a little comfort in the fact that I had the sense of mind to stay the hell at home.
After all that happened on our trip and then everything that has happened since within my neighbouring communities, my State and the blogging community, I thought I should write about and be thankful that, as is almost always the case, there were some high points to our Christmas trip!
So it's time to "accentuate the positives" ...
The arrival of Aunty Treens for starters. The girls were so excited to see their Aunty. I love how much they love her and wish they could see her more often. She spoils them rotten and I love that too. She was the only reason it was so hard to leave early after only spending such a short time with her and knowing she was going to be there for another week.
I should also mention Uncle Richard. Quiet but funny and will always make time for my girls if they call him for duty even when feeling like his head was going to explode from the sudden onset of hayfever.
Christmas and Santa.
No matter where it is or where he visits, I love it.
I love that we made a gingerbread house this year on Christmas Eve day and demolished it a few hours later.
I love watching my girls giggle and whisper as they try hard to fall asleep while their little heads are filled with wonderment at what Santa might leave them overnight. I love how their eyes light up when they realise it is Christmas morning and that can only mean the Fat Man has been (hopefully).
I love that it is the only day of the year - and possibly Easter - that I wake up first. I always thought it would be my girls jumping on me in the morning and dragging me out of bed but instead it is still me who wakes up and has to sit and wait for them to wake up. It is also one of the only times I am glad for at least one early riser (AJ).
I love how they wait (not so) patiently for everyone else to wake up, sitting and wiggling with excitement the whole time while eyeing off their presents, devouring the stash and building even more anticipation at what they will find.
I love how they ooh and ahhh as they dig through their stash and how they excitedly share with each other what they have received. I love how they giggle when they find potatoes in their sacks, knowing that Santa really must have been watching and was aware that they had been just a little bit naughty during the year. This was the first year we have done this and it will become a tradition because their little faces and those giggles were priceless!
I love that Santa delivered this year and that the girls were super excited with every little thing they received even though nothing was the same (so much for the anxiety that caused). After this little debacle and my mad dash to the shops the day before we left, Schmooey made my day when she exclaimed "Zoobles! Santa really knew this is exactly what I wanted." Phew!
I love that The Wee One really got into the spirit of things this year. It was so koot watching her eyes light up as she realised her stash belonged to her.
I love how happy my mother-in-law was with her present. We had made her a photo book which arrived in the nick of time and she absolutely loved it. It was well worth the days spent creating it for her and making it special.
I love that I got a family organiser calender x 2. Now I have one for my office and one for the kitchen. There was more than one person paying attention!!!
I love that the local fire brigade takes time out of their Christmas Day to spread joy through the streets by escorting Santa around the town, rain or shine! Talk about community.
I loved sitting with everyone for breakfast and enjoying a feast of bacon and eggs cooked to perfection on the BBQ and listening to all the excited chatter as everyone forgot their worries in that moment.
Lunch was much the same except adding in the bon bons and a few extra laughs at the scared pooches and dinner was just the pickings really. Too full to really eat but wanting to all the same.
And I love that, as I was nursing The Wee One in the campervan after she was clean again from her monumental offloading of digestive contents, I realised that right there, in that campervan was all I really needed. As long as we were together, I was going to be happy. My heart almost burst when I realised at that moment that this was my dream come true. This was all I ever wanted!
My very own family. To laugh with. To cry with. To fight with. To vomit with. But most importantly, to love!!!
This post has become even more important to me over the past week with everything that has happened. 2011, you really need to lift your game. Let's see some laughter instead of loss for a change now please.
This is my favourite swing dancing song and my husband knows to save this dance for me each and every time! Can't find the version I love but this would be my next favourite.
So if you haven't been reading and need to be brought up to speed, here, here, here and here is where I talk about our family nightmare holiday.
This is the final instalment so let's see if we can't just forget the whole thing. M'kay?
Now where were we? Oh yes.
It's all fun and games until ...
... you have to empty out the campervan and load the contents into a car. Including the children.
We woke the next morning to the news that the roads could possibly blocked for up to four days and headed out again to get some more food and some cash. It was stinking hot, humid weather and AJ complained pretty much the whole way up the street and back about how she wished it would start raining again.
I then reminded her that we would be staying in our new home for longer than she cared to think about and she embraced the warmth and welcomed the sun. For about 30 seconds.
On getting into the main part of town we were told varying stories. A truck driver told us the road was being fixed to allow cars and campervans out and we should be able to leave in a couple of hours. Locals were telling us to expect to spend New Year's Eve with them and that it would be one without power or food as they were being warned that the power would go out that afternoon.
We also discovered the phone lines were down which meant no access to ATMs. No cash. No food! I had just enough to grab a few extra items from the shop and then stood in line getting friendly with the locals at the only wireless ATM in town that was still working intermittently.
While I was in line, CJ came to advise that friends we had met the previous day had called to say they had news that the road was being opened so, being slightly realistic - quite possibly even a little pessimistic - I stayed in line and grabbed some money before heading back to the van to get organised to leave.
We drove out of the town and things seemed to be moving quite well until we actually got to the area where the road was blocked.
The news on the CB radio was that a caravan was now stuck on the makeshift road they had made and they were closing it down. I had visions of us driving back into town to rebook our site for another night at least and was glad I'd waited to get some cash.
But, luck was on our side, and the police reopened the highway long enough that we managed to get through. Three hours later and we were back at the mother-in-law's cleaning out the campervan and trying to fit everything back into our car which suddenly seemed like the most unspacious seven seat car ever to be built!
AJ! Happy to be heading home.
After spending two hours cleaning the van and the children after they ran through a shitload of mud at the farm, we packed ourselves into the car and headed for home. Only to turn around 10 minutes into the drive to go and retrieve CJ's sunglasses from the van and allow The Wee One to do a wee. There's always one in a crowd that waits until you're in the car, isn't there?
Lesson number six: Cleaning a campervan even for the shortest period of time with the door closed and no airflow is conducive to experiencing how your toddler felt on the trip and may result in a good ole fashioned tantrum and a sleeping bag being thrown out the door! Just saying...
After what seemed like the longest stretch in the journey we arrived home with three very tired little travellers and no power. Oh the irony! Luckily it was as simple as the trip switch being turned back on - apparently that works - and cleaning out the fridge!
As my girls are growing up so too are they developing their very own identities complete with the good, the bad and the downright defiant!
Last Wednesday at morning tea with my grandparents I looked at the three of them, all having had some say (if not all) in what they were wearing, and it dawned on me that it might be time to for some new nicknames.
So I give you, Miss Tween, Punk Chic
and Gumboot Girl.
I didn't have the forethought to actually take a photo that day but they have worn the same outfits on numerous occasions since* - I know. Do the math. It's only Sunday! - so I managed to snap a photo of them heading out to the diner on Friday night.
I'm loving watching their different styles and ideas unfold although I suspect there will be some serious cringe moments to come.
*All outfits had been washed in between each wear!
Every day, I think today will be the day when I just pop that unfinished holiday story up. And then I don't. I can't. Because it doesn't seem relevant.
Not today when somebody is saying goodbye to their husband. Not today when somebody is saying farewell to their sister. Not today, when it is another State's turn to feel Mother Nature's wrath. Not today when there is so much devastation and loss and mess. The mess!
So today, I have cleaned. It's all I can do. And as I mopped my floors I thought of those people cleaning the brown quicksand like mud out of their homes and off their belongings, most of which are unsalvageable.
And as I listened to my children fight like only siblings know how play, I thought of a mother dressing her children in preparation for their Daddy's funeral. And of a little boy wondering where his mother is. And of yet another young boy who watched his brother and mother get swept away in flash flooding where there shouldn't have been a flood to start with.
And as the morning "Hey. How are you?" call came from my husband, I thought of those people still waiting for calls from loved ones to let them know they are okay. For any news. Just so they know.
And I lit candles. Three candles. Representing so many different things. And I know none of this makes it better.
So I hope that today those who are in desperate need of it, find comfort in something, anything, no matter how big or small. And I hope that the support they are being given is enough. Enough to help them through today. Enough to help them rebuild. Enough to help them heal.
So many things I was hoping I would be writing about in 2011 but all I keep coming back to is the Queensland floods.
I watched in disbelief, firstly, as a city on top of a range - Yes, a mountain for those playing along at home - has a wall of water rush through it and then as people in towns below have no warning of what is coming down that range with their towns in its site.
And then. Then. In a not so ferocious but eerily slow rising I watch as my neighbours, Brisbane, start to lose their homes and businesses. It is unfathomable to me. I am watching it and still not believing it. My husband was up there today and he said the same thing. Had he not seen it with his own eyes, he would never have believed it.
My heart breaks for these towns and their residents. This morning was the final straw for me as I heard of a restaurant owner being told there was no more he could do to save this iconic Brisbane landmark. Just open up the windows and let it sink or float down the river. To see it smashing into a bridge tonight was just too much.
But to see grown men. Hard, country men, who have probably dealt with the harshest droughts that Mother Nature has thrown at them, being reduced to tears. That's when you know that this state is doing it tough.
75% of Queensland has been declared a natural distaster area. 13 people have died so far and so many more are missing. The photos and video footage coming out of these towns, some flattened by the unforgiving surge of water, and the stories of the people living through this are just, for the most part, devastating save for a handful of amazing rescues and lucky breaks.
It's not over yet. Tomorrow morning is when we will know how the king tide has affected Brisbane but there's still Northern New South Wales and the potential for another cyclone in the coming weeks. Mother Nature is slightly pissed and she's making it perfectly clear!
Yet, through it all, the Australian spirit lives on and, yet again, I am reminded of how strong we are.
Our premier said it all when she stated, "This may be breaking our hearts, but it will not break our spirit!"
I am going to start writing again although I must say I am torn between finishing our holiday story and waiting to hear the outcome of another. I just still can't believe how quickly things can change.
Lori's news continues to spin in my head as I try to make sense of what she and her family are enduring right now. I don't get it. It doesn't make sense. I wonder if I knew more of the details whether it would somehow make more sense but I know this wouldn't help. How does this happen? Can you even begin to imagine?
Of course, I know it does happen and there is always a higher reason - a good friend said to me recently that these things don't happen for us to stay the same - but my heart is so heavy for this family right now.
But I also know this. This community, the blogging community, her friends and people who have only just "met" her through this tragedy, have rallied around her to show her love and give her strength and hope in her darkest hours.
The support that has flooded in for this family is truly amazing and shows what the human spirit is still capable of. It is this that makes me certain that it will be okay. Whatever the outcome, they will be okay. They will find a soft place to fall and hands to lift them to their feet again.
Light a candle and hold this family close as they tread this uncertain path. And together let's wish upon every star that they get the miracle they, we are praying for.
Somebody's life has been turned upside down in the past 48 hours.
I have been reading about Lori and her family's tragic and sudden incident that has landed her husband in the ICU and all I can think is how quickly it can happen and how it could have been any one of my family or friends.
CJ went for an MRI on Thursday and I remarked to a friend how we were sitting there planning the afternoon's events when, in reality, I could get a call any minute that might change everything.
And then I read this and it confirmed for me just how easily that could have been me two days ago.
I do not know Lori personally. I run in similar circles though and quite a few of my fellow bloggers are her friends.
So I will take this moment to pause and send all my strength and healing her way. And hope with all my might that her husband makes it through this and their family unit returns to the former state that it was only a few days ago.
If you would like to donate to help this family through what is going to be an extremely tough time both emotionally, physically and financially please visit Kristin's site, Wanderlust, to do so.
... you get stranded only a few hours from your destination!
I think CJ and I passed out and got a decent night's sleep for the first time in about a week that night. Of course, once we arrived at the stop, he managed to get the shower working just fine except with a slight issue in the draining department. Trying hard not to think of what may have been stuck but CJ managed to fix that too. Champion!!!
The Wee One woke up all chipper, the night's proceedings behind her, and I took her out to the park for a quick bit of swing time and to allow the mozzies - let's not forget how much rain these places have had - to feast on us until I couldn't take it any longer.
Quick bite of breakfast and we knew our destination was in sight so we were quite eager to get away. We passed through some of the towns that were due to flood the coming weekend and couldn't believe how much more water had fallen since we travelled through the week prior.
We had about three hours of travelling to go when we heard the news! The roads were blocked. Nobody was getting through and the police were actually threatening to book any truck drivers that tried to make it south.
Serious!
We decided our best bet was to pay for a powered campsite in order to have a few creature comforts in case we were stuck there for a while. The news was a good two days at that stage so we geared up to enjoy life in a small country town with a lot of people trying to get home and a lot of truck drivers trying to make deliveries.
I can't say I've ever seen anything like it. We went to do a quick bit of shopping at the local IGA only to find that the shelves were bare. No milk, no bread, just gaping big holes in the shelves where people had been before us to buy staples to last them for an unknown period of time. We grabbed a few things and went to set up the campervan. The upside was that there were showers and toilets so we weren't all cramped back into that tiny shower cubicle. Come to think of it, I don't recall using it again for the rest of the trip.
I should point out that this first night in our new home away from home was the first and only night I actually got to read any of my book on the entire trip. Was I delusional to think this was going to be relaxing at some point? Apparently.
Lesson number five: Sometimes life throws in a pause button just so you can enjoy some extra family time that you wouldn't have experienced otherwise (and so you can say you read your book while on holidays)!
... you are sitting in quite possibly the smallest shower cubicle in the world surrounded in vomit!
We headed off on our journey home determined to make up for leaving later in the afternoon and agreed to drive a little into the night while the girls were still in good spirits.
I have to praise and give thanks to my husband for keeping us safe and driving the whole way without complaint both there and back - the campervan requires more than a car licence so there wasn't any way around it. It was an amazing feat considering there were times that I couldn't keep my eyes opened no matter how hard I tried. I didn't want to let the team down and have him driving without anyone to keep him company but some of those long stretches got me, usually the ones when we just start driving again too which was weird in itself. Definitely a night person!
AJ thought it was super fun to be co-pilot for an hour while I went and sorted the two little ones out. She would scour through the maps and tell CJ exactly where we were and where we were headed. She plotted our course with precision.
We managed to get a fair way and, once Schmooey fell asleep in her chair, we figured it was only a matter of time before the Wee One would too so we could drive just a bit further.
And then ... The Wee One complained she had a sore tummy - not surprising after two and a half bottles of milk - and I almost. Almost told her to go to sleep but on an instinct I grabbed her out of her seat for a quick cuddle to settle her.
That's when the great volcano of 2010 erupted and spewed (literally) those same two and a half bottles and some of now curdled milk all over me. I dove into action though with all thoughts on saving the bloody campervan seats. I really didn't want to tell my mother-in-law that she would need new seats in her brand new van. Luckily there was a sheet down on the seat that I was sitting on - how it was even still on the chair for all the times AJ had managed to screw it up with her wiggling and have it in a handy position on the floor is beyond me - so I grabbed that and my dress and bundled us up to attempt to make it down to the shower cubicle.
Don't ask me how I got over the bed without spilling any. Don't ask me how I didn't join in on the vomit fest because, seriously, by now in that tiny shower cubicle with The Wee One still vomiting all over me, all I could do was look to the ceiling in the hope of getting fresh air to my poor assaulted nostrils all the while willing CJ to find somewhere safe to pull over.
To make matters worse, after I stood up and the contents of The Wee One's digestive system plonked onto the shower floor from the inside of my dress - oh it was pleasant, lemme tell ya! - we then couldn't get the bloody shower to work. CJ called his mother, The Wee One was wailing and I was standing starkers in a campervan on the side of a road somewhere looking around to make sure all the curtains were shut and trying to figure out how I was going to get "that smell" off me!
Lesson number four - Remember lesson number two. Take heed at the two warning shots off the bow from the beginning of the trip and wise up to the whole dairy, lack of air conditioning situation!
I had a shower in a trickle of water to the best of my ability and with a determination like that of a dog trying to get dirty after a bath, only the opposite. I washed The Wee One down and we both got dressed and headed off again to find the nearest spot to rest for the night.
Again we had managed to get most of the driving done on our first day. We were home free. Or so we thought.
... you realise your trip may not have been worth the trek in the first place.
For all the hoo-ha surrounding this trip and for how excited everybody was supposed to be, I have to admit to not feeling much of the love.
I'm sure, as with every situation, there will be different perceptions to how the five day stopover turned out but let me just say, from my perspective, uncomfortable is an understatement. I do believe I'm usually one to get along well in a crowd. I don't tend to be overly opinionated in these situations and prefer to just try and "fit in" with what's going on around me and accept and adapt to the dynamics.
But no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't get comfortable. It was like wearing a pair of pants with that tag that continues to annoy you even after you've cut the bloody thing off. You know that little bit that scissors can't get? And nothing you do stops that skin contact. For the record that hasn't happened in a while so I really hope I haven't jinxed myself on that score.
Anyway, we tried. Even CJ tried. I'm surprised there wasn't a hole through his bottom lip from him biting down on it so hard each day. I should say that I'm sure he wasn't the only one and I can only assume that everybody did their best to keep the peace but for, whatever reason, the dynamic of this particular group just seemed to have a constant underlying tension attached to it.
Lesson number three - Sometimes, no matter how excited you are and no matter how hard you try or even if you stop trying so hard, things don't always work out and it's best to do what feels right for you and your family rather than enduring any more torment (or inflicting any for that matter).
Needless to say, it ended with us departing a couple of days earlier than originally planned. Surprisingly, it was me who had finally had enough and wanted out. Usually it's CJ but it is testament to how much he has changed over the years from a person who "doesn't do Christmas" - to which I gave 12 months notice in response to that statement - to a person who would be there but wouldn't participate with any emotion or enthusiasm to a person who now "gets it" and does it for the kids and for me and, I think, secretly enjoys it these days.
See that there? That's some
Christmas spirit!!!
Being the curious little creature I am though, I would have loved to have heard all sides of this same story because I guarantee there would have been discussions after we left.
We breathed a sigh of relief as we pulled out of the driveway and it was just the five of us again. And laughed when we weren't even at the end of the street before Schmooey yelled, "I need to wee!"
... somebody suggests a road trip. To North Queensland. When it's raining. And there are floods.
Yes! It is absolutely ridiculous that
I am wearing a jumper in December
in Queensland!
I will start by saying that I never thought the road trip would be as easy it was with three little girls under seven especially after an incident that almost saw us with an overflowing toilet before we had even ventured out the front gate.
The Wee One doing some "work"
on her 'puter.
But they were absolute champs about the whole thing. It did help that there was a DVD player and they could stretch out a little but still, 12 hours the first day with minimal stopping - we had our own personal travelling toiley (and yes, I know I shouldn't have but when you have a four year old who needs to wee every five to ten minutes, well let's just say you start doing the quick scoot down and back to the seat in record time before your husband can even find somewhere to pull over. Nuff said) - and we had managed to make the travelling for the second day almost non-existent. What I didn't realise was that we would also stop more the second day than we did the first!
Our driver reviver stopping point on
Day 2 after driving in the rain all day
the first day.
Taking a stroll.
Lesson number one - three little girls will all need to wee at different times throughout most of your trip - even after trying to synchronise them at the start - and usually within about five minutes of each other. Meaning, no sooner had I sat down and you heard the click of my seatbelt, you would also hear "Muuuum ..."
Hard work this travelling business
Driving through some of the towns on the way up, we couldn't believe how much they had already suffered and lost from the previous floods. The smell from so much water sitting, not draining and the damage that had already been caused was eye opening to say the least. But we were lucky enough that the next flooded and, therefore, closed road was just up from where we were headed so we made it by late afternoon on our second day.
After a mad panic, because Optus gets absolutely no coverage where we were except for that random text message that manages to get through even though your phone has been sitting in the same spot for hours wearing its battery out just trying to find a sign, we sorted out how to access our host's wireless account so I could get on to completing work (yes, K, I ended up taking it with me. Never. Again) to try and keep up so as to be able to enjoy Christmas with the family.
This is where the girls spent the majority
of their time whilst on holidays.
The girls had a swim to cool down from their two day trip and there was some concern that the Wee One had caught something due to the two vomits she had done that day in transit. Luffley. So while they were happily swimming, I was? Washing. Exciting stuff yeah? You only wish you had come with us!
Lesson number two (which we really didn't grasp fully until on the way home but you'll hear about that later) - A toddler in a carseat over in the corner of a campervan where only the front cab is air conditioned and possibly positioned where she may or may not be getting any direct airflow from the fan who is being given dairy products at her every whim from her never will learn parents, will be conducive to vomiting. Often!
And I wish I could tell you it only got better. And I can. As long as you're hearing that sarcastic tone in my "And things just keep getting better" voice!
I haven't even uploaded photos from our holiday yet.
It could be that I would really only like to remember the road trip itself. Weird I know, considering that was the part I was dreading.
But we have just been busy what with good friends coming home from overseas after being away for well over six months! I have missed them so much and today was the day they finally came home! I felt like a kid on Christmas Day trying to patiently wait to open her present which resulted in me baking a cake to pass the time.
Of course they couldn't stay long but I was so happy to be sitting in my lounge room with them and listening to the kids play like it had only been yesterday that they'd all seen each other.
This afternoon I sat outside with a vodka, lime and soda - my summertime [alcoholic] beverage of choice - and watched CJ and the girls swim in the pool before coming inside to cook some dinner.
The best part, of course, was dessert after a spontaneous and unanimous decision to make pancakes with maple syrup and icecream!
I am hopeful of getting on here tomorrow but I have to admit to enjoying all the other fun stuff more at the moment. And let's not forget that the sun has actually been out for the past couple of days. That in itself is such a rarity that we need to embrace it while it lasts.
Add to that the husband being home - not complaining. I'm glad he has another week off and not just because it means I can go to lunch without the kids - and my poor old computer is slipping further down the priority ladder. Not a bad thing and a good time to reassess the time spent here. Let's face it, I am the time waster extraordinaire but I'm feeling the need to reign it in a little and become more proficient in my time management this year. With two girls at school and the Wee One at kindy two days a week, I need to start using my time far more wisely!
So until tomorrow. Or the next day perhaps. I'm sure I'll be back once I figure out where this fits in these days! I guess it's kind of a New Year's resolution ...
