Two Men in My Mirror (With Pictures of Sydney)

The week the baby came home - and the pregnancy hormones settled back to normal - I realised the toll the pregnancy had taken on the kids.

At the Royal Botanical Gardens in Sydney after renewing their American passports

I was a bit irritable at the end there. 

Irritable as in "why the  $&%^*ing  #&$* do I have to $*%*ing bend over to pick up everybody else's $&%*(^ing socks?"

Irritable as in bending Matthew over to touch his toes to show him how easy it was to bend over when you weren't carrying a person inside your belly.

And while the question about the socks - and books and sticks and legos and soccer balls - is a valid one, the  $*($%&%  used liberally as an adjective and noun isn't.

Big city.  Bit chilly for the Queenslanders.  (Huh?  How did Ryan EVER survive in Germany?!)

This hit home when Matthew used the "f" word as an adjective.  And then came up with the "er" version to describe the brother he wasn't getting along with.

Also when Damon asked Aidan to brush his teeth one night and Aidan sat down in the middle of the bathroom floor and said "JESUS CHRIST".

He sounded just like me.  Which would have been funny....

More impressed with the icecream than the Opera House.

Except that sort of behaviour really isn't acceptable - or pretty - in a five year old.

(We have since introduced Aidan to the "Jesus Christ" I keep in our kitchen pantry, next to the flour and baking products.  A gift from the Mormon missionaries, the picture is too pretty to throw out, and so I keep it to comfort me whenever I open the pantry.  When Aidan DOES slip up, we remind him about respect and invite him to visit Jesus in the pantry if he feels the need for a chat.)

Back in Brisbane!  (Where Mommy and Ian are waiting for us.)

Seeing my vices reflected in my youngest two children made me see how ugly - and unacceptable - they really are.

I've gotten WAY better.  (I only lose it when the computer refuses to cooperate with me.)

And the twins' behaviour has mirrored mine.

Michael Jackson knew what he was talking about.

"I'm starting with the man in the mirror.
I'm asking him to change his ways.
And no message could have been any clearer
If you want to make the world a better place
Take a look at yourself and make the change."

At the Botanical Gardens.

It's very Tao.  (Verse 58: Thus the Master is content to serve as an example and not to impose her will.)  But I never would have understood it without the example from my children.

I haven't had to do much.  Just change my own behaviour.

I want my kids to be better people than I am.

Meaning that I become a better person for them.

Healthy Good-Byes

We said good-bye to two school friends last week; Nibbles, the Prep classroom guinea pig and Ms Easlea, Andrew's fantastic fourth grade teacher.

Matthew with Nibbles

Nibbles developed signs of a urinary tract infection two weeks ago, something which I'd hoped might be cured with a small round of antibiotics, but which ended up being the symptom of a much larger problem: bladder stones.  Even not taking the costs (and risks) of surgery into account, Nibbles was fading and the prognosis looked grim.  He was euthanised last weekend.

The kids handeled it much better than I'd imagined.  All I could think about was the parents I knew in Germany going on and on about the effect this severe stress - CHANGE so early in the school year, for crying out loud! - would have on their POOR, distraught children.  Good reason not to have a class pet at all, one would think.

As it turns out, kids handle change - even death - quite well when it's confronted as a fact of life. Not something to avoid, but something to accept and grow from. 

Aidan's gentle side

The kids all KNOW that Nibbles is up in heaven.  (Religion aside, heaven is such a comforting thought for little ones that I think I'll keep it around a bit!)  Not only that, but Nibbles is joined by our Wolfy, several other guinea pigs, rabbits, snakes, hamsters, lizards, turtles, dogs, cats and even a horse.  The kids were cool with it.  Sad, but cool.

And another little guinea pig will be joining them shortly.  It won't be Nibbles.  But life continues in the face of sadness, becomes joyous again.

And change is okay.

We felt so fortunate to have had Nibbles with us for a weekend.  Which is how Ms Dance and Fiona explained it to the kids too;  that grieving for Nibbles was okay, but that we should be happy for the time we had with him.  I am not a big guinea pig fan, being the one who has to catch them and treat them without being bitten, but Nibbles was cool.  If ANY guinea pig had character it was this little guy.  So I am glad that we had that one weekend.

Andrew introduces Nibbles to Ryan's pet bunny (Fluffy?)

Ms Easlea, Andrew's teacher, has only been at the school six weeks, but she was a kindred spirit from the start.  Not just because she professed to love Andrew's poetry (which, while enthusiastic, gets a bit ridiculous at times!) but because her gentle, caring spirit really shines out upon the kids.

You love her without trying.

She was my hero BEFORE she left, for being able to manage a classroom of kids all day and THEN go home to her own.  But she is an even GREATER hero to me now, for admitting that her own kids and family were suffering as a result, and for having the courage to admit she has to wait awhile - focus on her family - at least for a few more years before she once again takes on the role of full-time teacher.  (I believe she said as much to the kids so that this is NOT breaking any confidentiality.)  THAT is a SUPER-WOMAN!  In this day of career women claiming they can - and should - do everything, it is empowering to see a woman step back and reevaluate.

Of course we'll miss her - she is really a super teacher - but how can you be unhappy about someone making the decision to be happy herself?

Is it odd we have so many pictures of Nibbles and none of Ms Easlea?!

And the kids WILL adapt.  In fact, they are getting a MALE teacher, something which might shake things up, in a good way, for some of the boys in the class who need a little shaking sometimes!  (Let's just hope he likes corny poetry too!)

I admit, I'd be flipping out a bit more if it was RYAN'S teacher who was leaving, because Andrew really is the one who you don't worry about, no matter what, but in a healthy school environment, with a stable home environment, changing teachers shouldn't be traumatic.

In fact, I can think of nothing MORE traumatic, then struggling AGAINST change.

Ryan and Nibbles

I still remember the child psychologist I took Ryan to in Germany telling me that he thought all the change and travel in her life was making her insecure.  This despite the fact that she had been living in the same home for the last six years, the only home she could ever remember.

Could it have been all the bullying and degradation at school that was making her insecure?!

And that just from the teachers, really.

So that it is good to see change being accepted. 

Maybe it's the ability to see hope for the future, rather than dwell on the securities of the known past.  (Even if it sucks, at least you know where you stand!)

All I know is that I am excited to see what happens with Andrew's new teacher.

And happy that Wolfy has so many friends in heaven.


Wolfy.  I still miss him. 



Why Lawnton? (Part One: Down the Stream)

Ryan and Andrew probably hadn't even reached their classrooms on their first day at Lawnton State School – a week to the day after landing on the runway in Brisbane - when the school secretary leaned over the reception area and conspiratorially called me over. She looked both ways before she popped the question that was on her mind. (Okay, maybe not, but in my mind three weeks later she did!)
''WHY LAWNTON?'' she asked.

She meant the town and not the school. (More raves about THAT later! Less than 200 kids, an engaged teaching staff, caring administrative staff AND personalized attention for EACH student? Why NOT Lawnton State School?!)

What brings a family from the United States – the bolder, louder sibling across the globe – through the wonders of Europe to land on the shores not only of Australia, and Brisbane, but of LAWNTON, a tiny suburb north of Brisbane. The mall? The wonders of Target and Big W? Lawnmowers on Sunday? (YAY – Sundays as they SHOULD be! But more on that later too!)

I'm beginning to realize that 'Row, row, row your boat...gently down the stream'' really DOES say more about life than most people ever pick up on. (Also that sooner or later I will have to begin spelling realize 'realise' but baby steps on the personal growth here.)

There is a current to our lives, and clinging to branches or escaping onto flotsam and jetsam is only a temporary – and false – sense of control over where the great river of life is bringing us.
Have you ever felt that you were in exactly the right place at the right time, that you were EXACTLY where you were MEANT to be?

When my shrink asked me that over 15 months ago, in September 2009, I cried. (I cried a lot in 2009 so it came as no surprise!) The only time I had ever experienced that before (and I now know that I'm lucky that I have ever experienced it at all) was 20 years before, on a bus in Kenya. My new friend, Kristy, shared it too, as we sat together in the back of the bus taking us to the rest of our lives. THIS was where we were meant to be. THIS was right.

20 years later, in Holzgerlingen, I cried. If THAT was who I was, then I was lost. Because there was no way I was going to get back onto that bus in Kenya with four kids and bills to pay.

That month I decided to look into jobs in Australia, a continent that, quite frankly, had never really interested me before. English colony. Bah.

But Damon could get citizenship there. It had a universal health care system (unlike Germany whose system REQUIRES all citizens to be insured but doesn't offer them all that privilege – it's an obligation, NOT a privilege, which - in my mind at least- are polar opposites). It spoke English. And it had jobs, jobs, jobs. Unlike Europe, it recognizes MY degree. Unlike Europe, it respects Damon's degree from the USA. And, again unlike Europe, it encouraged skilled immigrants with programs such as tax incentives for first-time home buyers in Australia.

And the damn education system didn't condemn my daughter to prostitution at the age of 8. (And while this might seem like a gross exaggeration, where else is an underappreciated sensitive soul going to go in an outdated feudal system that already has her pegged to finish school at the age of 14?!) Hey – at least the prostitutes have a pension plan. And health insurance!

So that when I went back to my shrink and told her we were moving to Australia, it didn't take much time until she was convinced it was the right move for us. (I do like to think she wasn't just trying to get rid of a difficult patient because, frankly, we had lots of laughs too and compared to the rest of the saps I saw in there I was a bright ray of sunshine!)

My shrink was on board before I was entirely on myself. (I still wasn't sure I wasn't running ''from'' something instead of ''to'' something.)

''Oh.'' she said. Her face lit up with understanding and she visibly relaxed and settled back into her chair as if she'd finally put the last piece into the puzzle of my discontent.

''You're an adventurer.''

And from that moment on all she did was give me the tools to let go of my flotsam and jetsam and to row, row, row...........

Not exactly the answer the school secretary was looking for that first Friday at Lawnton SS. Not the answer I gave. (Although, in the rewind of my mind's eye I like to see me leaning casually across the reception window talking to her about the movement of my life, as she wearily begins to slump and fade into her chair, politely regretting that she ever asked me in the first place!)

Not what I meant to write about either.

Unfortunately this is what happens when I don't clear out my brain's cobwebs on a regular basis. (And who knew they could build up so quickly up there?!)

Why Lawnton? Because it's where the river took me.

I call Anita that October for our weekly two hour pre-English group chat....

Change

''What is the address you are calling from?'' I'm doing three things at once, talking to the 911 operator, running outside to get Doug and Ray before they take the boat out, and reassuring Grandma that everything is going to be okay. She's already passed out in her chair so I concentrate on getting the address correct. ''And the phone number you are calling from?'' I am surprisingly clear-headed. When she asks me why I called I tell her that my 91 year old Grandmother has collapsed. My voice catches but my body still knows what to do. I cradle Grandma in my arms – she is so tiny now that it is like holding a large child – and keep her head up. The 911 operator wants more information but she reassures me that she has already sent the ambulance. This is Florida, the retirement center of the world. Her finger was on that button the second I mentioned the words 'Grandma' and 'collapse'.

I know Grandma is afraid to die. You'd hope that getting older would prepare you for it, but Grandma is not an adventurous soul, not big on change and surprises. She's a devote Catholic and knows with certainty that there is a God, that Jesus died for our sins, and that there is a heaven waiting for her. If only Jesus had left directions on how to get there. Something more concrete than lead a good life, be good to others, commit no sins, and pray for forgiveness. Something more along the lines of

''When your soul leaves your body and you are looking down at your granddaughter cradling your head in her arms, take a sharp left. Head straight until you hit the Elysian Fields. They will be properly labelled. You can't miss them. Take a second left at the tunnel entrance and keep going until you hit the light. You will receive further, detailed instructions at the light. There will be someone there to assist you further should you have any questions.''

Grandma would still be worried, but she'd be so focused on getting the directions right that she'd be less anxious about the final destination.

My biggest fear is that Grandma will think she's all alone. Doug and Ray and I were supposed to be taking the sailboat out this afternoon. ''It's alright, Grandma. I'm right here with you.'' I say. Ray nods in approval as he checks her pulse. He's been through this with both of his parents already. Doug is outside waiting for the ambulance. I imagine Grandma's consciousness might be locked up in a sensory deprivation box the same way mine was the first, and last, time I inhaled nitrous oxide. If it is, then she is feeling scared, and I just want her to know that I am there for her. It doesn't occur to me that I couldn't hear anyone in my black box. Although I don't believe in God, or heaven, I have no doubt her consciousness is around here somewhere.

The paramedics come and load her onto a stretcher. There are about eight of them. And a fire truck and some police officers. Had I mentioned that Grandma passed out and now we were going to set her house on fire?

In the end, this is not the end. Grandma's soul does not take that second left at the Elysian Fields. Soul and body are coming home tomorrow.

For the record, Grandma never saw a tunnel or a light. She didn't look down upon her body from on high. But then again, she never did stop breathing either. (My Dad, a confirmed atheist, was really bummed he didn't see anything when he collapsed fifteen years ago. He had stopped breathing. He's been threatening to sue the lawyer who resuscitated him ever since.) Grandma doesn't remember anything I said to her as she lay in my arms. But Ray appreciated the sentiments.

Grandma hasn't showed me how to die. But she has reminded me how to live.

Throw out the damn road map.

If we don't accept and embrace change and uncertainty as a part of life, it is going to be damn hard to meet the biggest change of all with anything but fear, dread and uncertainty.