People that don't look they way they should

Saturday mornings is swimming lessons with little Miss Mischief. Indoor heated pool that's the size of our  garage, sitting off to the side on hard metal benches, you cant avoid getting wet too.

I picked up our local newspaper and started to read an article about an adopted Japanese woman, who was rather insulted by the fact she is constantly approached by other fellow Japanese people and they speak Japanese to her, assuming after all she is Japanese. She has to inform them that she speaks only English. I couldn't read any further as by this stage the newspaper was saturated. Wiping the drips from my face I was instantly reminded of the first time I met my best friend Alex, I chuckled out aloud. The couple that sat next to me moved suspiciously further down the bench.

While in the last throws of my Fine Arts degree 10 years ago, a few fellow art friends and I started a co-op gallery. The aim was to help all emerging artists, artists such as ourselves, step up to exposure, recognition and a chance. Smooth out the injustices of the art world, by not being a part of it. We had ideals, politics and a driven desire to make it a success. Our group of 10 quickly whittled down to 6, when the question of money arose. 6 people still operate the gallery today. Marion's role was to find new and exciting artists, and my role was to draw out of them as much information as possible to market the exhibition. Most of the time it is easier to draw blood out of a stone. With artists it's never an easy process, call it artistic demeanour.
At one Camden art show, she discovered the quirky lively paintings of one Alex McBoko.
She rang me a few weeks later to say she had spoken to him and was organising for him to contact me to arrange an appointment
"He's lovely, but really hard to understand on the phone due to his very thick Scottish accent. He moved here just 2 years ago from Scotland. You should meet him rather than do a phone interview".
Sure enough when I did speak to him on the phone, I could barely understand him. We agreed to meet at a cafe the following Tuesday. He asked me if I was Irish, as I have an Irish name. Explaining to him that my mother was dutch and my dad was  French Mauritian, and the name was a pulled out of a hat. "So your a darky are you?', technically yes, but I take after my mother.
We agreed to meet outside the cafe.  I turned up a minute early waiting at the front of the cafe, and around a minute later an Asian man wearing a suit, carrying a brief case showed up and stood on the opposite side of the entrance. We exchanged glances amongst a lot of other people milling about. 10 minutes later I went to call him to see how far away he was, when my mobile rang and it was Alex "I'm waiting at the cafe, how far away are you?" he asks. I look through the front window to see if I can see anyone sitting by themselves inside. "Oh  I am outside waiting for you Alex" I reply. Chuckling a reply, "I am too!". Turning around to search the outdoor crowd I can only see the Asian man talking on his mobile.
"I can't see you Alex, where are you?". I am still searching the crowd of faces.
"Aye I think I can see you, your wearing red pants that have frangipani's and a green top, I'm right next to you". In his very thick Scottish accent, that seems to be very close.
Swinging around, the Asian man in the business suit is now standing right next to me, smiling, holding up his phone.
"You're a bit peculiar! with your blond hair, brown eyes and lily white skin" He looks me up and down with a mocking smile.
We find a spot inside and the waitress walks over to get our order, Alex orders for the both of us and the waitress flinches with a double take at the sound of his voice, with a quick disbelieving shake of her head she's off.
He tells me that he was in Cabramatta the other day seeing a client, and he was spoken to in Vietnamese, he cheekily spoke back in Gaelic.
By the way he mentions he takes after his mother too. I eventually find out that Alex's Scottish dad was on holiday in Thailand, where he fell in love and married Alex's mum. Ethan came first, 2 years after that Alex was born. Unfortunately Alex's mum died shortly after his birth and their forlorn dad took both the boys back home to Scotland to be raised with wonderful grandparents and a plethora of aunts, uncles and cousins.
I guess we have a friendship on the commonality that we don't look like what we are supposed to look like. I don't look part negro at all, and Alex doesn't look Scottish.
Alex has become quite a successful artist and I, well, you could say I am a practising artist in hiatus.

One leaves the nest

Last year my oldest child Ryan moved to sunny Queensland for his career. I was excited, proud and joyous for him, underneath that lurked a dark feeling of despair that I tried to shake of like a swarm of pesky bugs.
Leading up to that fateful day our house was a flurry of activity, organising furniture and his personal possessions for the big haul. I even wrote a manual for him, "Mum's guide to moving out and surviving" It covered all topics from nutrition and cooking for one to a very, very large chapter on money & budgeting. Out of all the kids, Ryan was the only one that had a very weak grasp of the essentials of being money wise. This worried me.
With last minute tips and advice in between the hugs, kisses and tears, he climbed into his car and set of down the road. I was strong, smiling with only a slight tad of a quaver of the bottom lip. Around the corner he zoomed and then he was gone.
Walking inside, number 2 son offered a heartwarming cup of coffee. I was immediately ambushed by a wall of tears and wails. Huge uncontrollable racks of sobs shook my body, all four remaining children, as if on cue jumped to surround me with a big group hug.
"It's ok Mum you still have 4 kids here" says Ritch. Stammering out each anguished word between the painful sobs, I answer with hands outstretched "But.... I.... am....use...to...5!!".
Didn't they get it, I am used to 5 children, 2 adults, a step dog and an independent cat. The house seemed to be smaller, emptier with this one person gone.
I couldn't go to work that day. I sat out on the back porch mostly with the tissue box not far from my side.

This is it, the beginning of the empty nest syndrome. This is what it feels like. I spent years hungrily waiting for them to grow up and get a life of their own. It only seems only like a couple of years ago when I has holding onto his hand, his mop top curly hair and delicious chocolate brown eyes looking up at me. That beautiful cheeky smile eternally etched into my mind. He was 2 then now he is 25. Still just as handsome, but now he has to look down as he towers over me.
14 hours later he rings
"Hey Mum" with the sound of his voice the silent tears begin to fall down my face. Little Miss Mischief runs up with the seemingly bottomless tissue box and holds it out for me.
The trip was a breeze for him, tonight he is staying with his Aunt & Uncle, they are having a special roast dinner as they haven't seen him in a while. I can hear in the background my sister in law fussing over him. I can't help but smile, a smile with an edge of jealousy mixed in.

Each Monday evening at 7.30pm the phone rings, "Hey Mum....." Couple of nights per week we speak on facebook chat. Don't get me wrong I still shed a tear or few each time, I just don't let him know it. The tissue box seem to miraculously appear on the desk.

He got around to reading my manual, apparently while he was waiting for the Internet to be connected and there was nothing on TV to watch. Laughing he mentioned "You should write Mum, you're very funny, laughed my arse off in a few places. That part about googling green vegetables If I couldn't remember what they looked like, that had me rolling on the ground".
This confused me as I didn't write anything deliberately funny.

Christmas time he flew home. I wasn't allowed to go with Drue to pick him up at the airport, due to the embarrassment factor.
In the first few months, Ryan had saved his money, paid his bills and it was the first Christmas he bought presents for everyone, without mum to the rescue. Great gifts too, I was impressed

I might have finally let him go, have the faith in him to live his life well, but he will always be that golden curly haired, olive skinned, dreamy eyed, cheeky smiled little boy to me.

Our first Magical Mystery tour

I read a book a very long time ago called "Mothers that run", and as per usual I can't remember the author. It was a study of mothers that had abandoned their families, left, gone awol etc. Unthinkable as it might be to do such a thing, but it happens, and it happens a lot.
I read the book purely out of curiosity, and cause I almost did the same thing a couple of years prior when I only had 3 children. The pressure was too much, when for some absurd reason I thought the kids would be better off without me. I jumped into my freedom nomad van and drove to the end of our street, a grand distance of 2 houses away. Which way should I turn, left or right? when the thought come over me, will the kids be alright?, will they be loved the way I love them?, will someone sacrifice everything for them the way I do? What will they tell them when the kids ask "where is mum?". That last one was enough for me to turn the van around. Thankfully the van had a very small turning circle and I don't have to do an eight point turn to turn the van around like I have to do with my current car. I was gone a whole 3.25 minutes and no one till now was any wiser to my being awol.
2 days later I left again, this time with the kids in tow. We were going on a magical mystery tour. Packing their bags with daywear, sleepwear, swimwear, floaties, towels and pillows we set off to go somewhere.
Oldest boy Ryan sat in the front seat with a series of road maps and we set off south towards the southern highlands. Originally it was to be just a picnic to the Blue Mountains for the day, but the then husband was a bit weary as he worked all week, the poor dear opted out to catch up on some sleep. We four returned 4 days later, with smiles bigger than Mt Everest. The kids were 9, 7 and 5 at the time and they still remember that experience with chuckles.
Especially when we randomly climbed a fence into a paddock somewhere near Nowra to take a closer look at the most majestically impressive Moreton Bay Fig tree imaginable. We were doing a rain dance around the base when we realised that we didn't want rain while we were away, so we went in reverse to undo the rain dance. Number 2 son Drue, spotted a bull in the far left corner of the paddock who was having a serious stare at some absurd human antics. We screamed comically all the way down the hill, up the gully and back over the fence. We collapsed in hysterical laughter on the side of the road as the bull was left behind still staring at us while chomping on some fodder.
The first night we camped in the car park at a beach. We had swum till it was too dark, and skipped up the road to the fish and chip shop. Not just normal skipping, it had to be the most animated, weirdest skip that could be contrived, the contest was on. It took me a few attempts to get the rhythm of skipping, as one becomes an adult it's a skill that one loses, which is so sad. I huffed and puffed and laughed trying to order while the kids giggled. By the time I eventually managed to articulate the order even the cook was laughing.
We made a beach camp fire, roasting or burning marshmallows stabbed on the end of twigs. Summertime is great for these sort of adventures. The Nissan Nomad 8 seater van was the best friend the family could have, with all the seats laid down flat it was very comfortable to sleep all 4 of us in, though Ryan did snore.
As the sun rose the next morning, Drue and I went swimming while the 2 sleeping beauties slumbered on. Ravishingly hungry we ventured to McDonalds to have our very first McDonalds breakfast ever. Hmm, yum, I didn't know the hotcakes they served are that good.
We drove around to visit as many different beaches and places as possible in the next 3 days, but did spend the next 2 nights in a motel to sleep.
Time came to go home, we travelled back through the southern highlands via a different route. As I pulled up in our driveway it had been dark for some time. My future ex husband came out and said "That was a very long picnic". Ryan had woken and said "And it was the best ever Dad!".
That was our very first magical mystery tour and over the years we have gone and discovered some amazing places on and off the beaten track. We never booked any accommodation, the van proved as always to be a reliable host when needed. We've stayed in some eclectic places, some remembered with fondness and some not to be remembered.
The whole idea was to jump in the van and just go in any direction that took our fancy, throw away the boundaries, the schedules, the fear and enjoy some amazing fun bonding with each other.
Every time I left, the kids came too.
Enjoy!

Packing my luggage bag little Miss Mischief style

I'm leaving to go to Perth tomorrow for the PBC expo.
Like any regular normal human being, I like to leave things to the very last minute. The mummy rote kicked in this morning and I decided to get organised!. I am very big on minimal. Staying just 4 days this time, all I needed was work clothes, underwear, toiletries and I guess the dusty makeup bag should go in as well. All that took up less than half of the suitcase; more room to bring back goodies for the tribe. Little Miss Mischief decided that just won't do at all. Tapping her foot on the ground and finger to her mouth in unison, I could hear her mind churning over in super hyperdrive. Within minutes she had added to my meagre stack
3 Barbie movies (because they are really good to watch she says)
2 Candles complete with stands - just in case there's no light
5 pairs of shoes - 2 pairs I forgot that I had
2 teddy bears - if I get scared
1 framed picture of her - so if I miss her, she'll be close ( hey honey I have 2 in my purse and 6 on my Iphone)
4 books
1 bowl
and my "Mummy Moment" cup ( that was always on the list)

The lightbulb sprang up above her head when she realised Mum has to eat!
in zip lock bags for each she packed
4 cruskits - because I am staying 4 days
small handful of cashews ( she even remembered I preferred unsalted)
a very full bag of rolled oats for breakfast, I think thats what the bowl is for.
Cornflakes
A mixture of Sultanas and dates

The bag was bulging so she sat on it to close up the zipper. I had a vision of the rolled oats bursting all through my bag.
Standing back, hands on hips she was proud of her achievement. Mum will definitely not go without out when she remembered just one more thing; I might get bored. She scampered of to her bedroom to get what I knew would be the barrel of textas and colouring books, I was left holding the one pair of shoes that I did want to take, holding back the laughter.

With relief the barrel would not fit till she emptied the contents into all crevices. All 60 textas found a place somewhere in my bag, and the colouring books flattened on top. When all was done, finished and the suitcase by some miracle was zipped up, she took both my hands into hers, looked lovingly into my eyes and said with a grown up demeanor "You'll be ok, no need to get scared or worried, because I love you mummy".

I guess I better wait till she's in bed asleep tonight to discreetly repack my bag and secret the stash in the wardrobe. I might not take all the things she packed for me, but the memory of her doing so, will come with me for sure.
I love you too baby.

The crowd, the pram and a domino of tumbling bodies

Number one daughter and I ventured into iconic Glebe markets yesterday, located in the inner west of Sydney. We wanted to catch up with some old friends who sell their wares there. Having been marketeers for many years and a part of the Glebe market hub for a few of them, we know how congested it always is. Aisles at one metre wide at the most, people are generally walking through shoulder to shoulder with strangers. Its no place for 2 things, prams and dogs walking on leads.
Generally people are sensible and hold their little canine pal in their arms and parents use slings. Yesterday that didn't happen when both of the two no no's collided that set off a chain reaction. Thankfully no one was badly injured, some beautiful handcrafted stock was destroyed which left one marketeer in tears and another customer with a badly twisted ankle. It could have been avoided.
So what actually happened?
Mum was pushing pram, with screaming baby that was about nine months old. For most babies around this age, the onslaught of the sea of legs is distressing and overwhelming. The pram was blocking access for most people, trying to side step and silently curse around it. Man with dog squeezes through, woman with pram decides no more queue jumping and pushes through, wheels catch the leash. Another person trips on the leash, falling against the owner, who falls against the woman with the pram, who stumbles backwards into the person behind her, who in turn stumbles onto the next person, who is pushed onto a stand. That stand knocks onto another stand that crashes onto a stall of hand crafted ceramic items. The sounds of crashing pottery and cries could be heard through out the market, and some yelling, screaming and cursing promptly followed suit.

Regardless of who's at fault, whether its the man with the dog or the woman pushing the pram, this doesn't help the distraught marketeer who just lost considerable property and income, nor to the poor woman who twisted her ankle and couldn't drive themselves home. Thankfully a couple of marketeers came to the rescue and managed to get both the woman and her car home.

If you are going to a crowded event, do bub a favour, leave the pram in the car and sling it. You'll be more mobile, less frustrated and bub will feel less anxious too, and you might just avert a catastrophe.

Juggling Life as a working mum - tell me about it!

I hear it everywhere, on the forums, on the phone and in conversations, "how do you juggle working life with a family?".
It's universal, no matter what type of career women have, women with children struggle at some point, if not all the time. Find a mother who doesn't get overwhelmed and stressed out, pinch her to see if she's real.
Answers like "you have to find a balance" is cliched, demoralizing and certainly unhelpful. What working mothers need, is a guide to finding a balance thats unique to their situation and lifestyle, how long is a piece of string.

Getting organised with forward planning is a discipline all on its own. It works, but it's the last thing a mum can do really well when she is emotionally fettered by a really bad work day, kids are bickering and hungry, and no meat was left out to defrost, for that that scrumptious gourmet meal everyone expects (actually it's really mum that expects such high standard). Bring out the can of baked beans embellish it with toast and some microwaved greens, top it of with a glass of milk for the kids, piece of fruit for desert and you have a healthy well balanced meal that has the important intake of legumes. Sit down with the family take a deep breath in, exhale the frustration out and enjoy. It's a meal, not gourmet, but just as nutritionally important. At the end of the day, as mothers we are charged with the nutritional intake for our family, not the status of the food they eat.

A home is for free expression not good impressions. Our homes are for our families to reside in, to grow up in, to love and feel safe, not to impress other people who come in from time to time. Cleanliness is comforting, spotlessness is madness. It's all about the right attitude

Finding a balance really means finding an outlet in which you can recharge your batteries, something that makes you feel real and rejuvenated. For me I found walking every morning is my "get up and go", my kick start. I found this purely by coincidence.
17 years ago when I had 3 small children, working full time and studying via correspondence, I was overwhelmed, fatigued and trying incredibly hard to hold it all together. My girlfriend at work was getting married in 12 months and wanted to loose 35 kilo's in weight, she railroaded me into having a brisk 45 minute walk each morning before work. The mornings for me was the hard time, getting kids ready, husband ready and myself, all I could do was gulp.
The night before, I got everything ready. The following morning slipped out before anyone was awake, I was anxious during my walk, whilst Leanne was chattering excitedly about her upcoming wedding. Over the course of that 45 minutes we spoke about a lot of things, it was the 45 minutes that I wasn't a mother, a wife, an employee or a student, I was me. Of course when I returned chaos was rampant, kids weren't dressed, husband had slept in, leaving me too think maybe this isn't such a good idea. I found myself feeling really good throughout the day and the evening woes didn't seem to appear, except when husband came home. A half hour lecture about the consequence of him being late for work, about me being responsible in the duty for my kids was finished with his famous words "Your a mother now, your life has ended, you can't do anything that you wont anymore". I was 29, I had just been told my life has ended! I saw red.
The next morning I was even more determined to go for that healthy walk, but I got the older boys in action by telling them they had to be dressed before I got home. Sure enough they were.
In that 12 months we only missed 4 days, when we had torrential rain. On the 5th day, my son handed me an umbrella and ordered me to go for a walk, saying I was a better mum when I did. When a 5 year old notices the difference, you know it's working.
Leanne lost her 35 kilo's and was the most beautiful bride I have ever seen and we continued our ritual walk until she moved 2 years later.
17 years on, I still go for my morning walk, armed with my Ipod, listening to my favourite music, it clears the cobwebs from the brain, recharges my emotional batteries and helps me find the balance within myself to make things work for the rest of the day.

As a mother, your the key person in the family, it's vitally important that you find inner balance so that you can balance the everything on the outside. It's also very personal, each women has a different outlet. One friend of mine has some time set aside each week to sit and read her favourite magazine from front to back with a cup of coffee and 2 Tim Tams, for an other, it's the saturday morning catchup with girlfriends at a much loved cafe. Outlets are as varied as there are people but the effects are all the same; it recharges the soul, instills positive attitude and enhances the success of everyday life on all fronts.

Of course there many helpful handy tips to saving time, such as a dishwasher, whether it's a mechanical (the best and most reliable type) or a people orientated version such as husband or kids. A slow cooker is a must for the winter months ( If you don't like to leave things on while your a work, cook it overnight and reheat when you get home). A deep freezer in which to store double cooked meals. A frozen home cooked meal is faster, less expensive than any takeaway meal.

Time management is essential. The art of time management comes easily when you have found inner balance, and thats a whole other blog. So in the meantime till I post time management for mums, go and try to find some "ME" time

The terror of Meal times

Meal times with toddlers and young children can be fraught with emotional danger, but it doesn't need to be.
As parents we all worry that our children don't get enough to eat especially with children that are grazers. Some little ones are like Duracell batteries, they just keep going on and on without little recharge.

To get the little ones to eat more of their meal there are a few little tricks to keep in mind
1) Keep meal times happy and engaging, not a battle zone. Turn off the TV and talk with each other at the table. Ambient music played softly in the background sets the mood. Silence is one company that shouldn't be invited to the table
2) don't overload the plate, children need at least 5 small meals a day not 3 larger meals. A large plate can be overwhelming for the younger ones.
3) don't over emphasis finishing their meal, but more enjoy being in each others company. As you are eating and talking with them they will follow suit. If they are stubborn about eating anything, depending on the dish served, unfinished meal and be placed in the fridge and reheated a little later if they are hungry again.
4) if your child dislikes a particular food this week, loved it last week, they more than likely will love it once again in a few weeks time. Never force a child to eat a food they naturally dislike, if they shudder & shake or gag, there are plenty of alternative foods of the same nutritional content to benefit their health.
5) Hide veges in a mash or pasta dish, if veges are a battle starter. "Martian Mash" was very popular in my household for while.
6) Encourage children to help prepare the meals and set the table and also discuss what the meal should be. Openly reward involvement at the dinner table, eg "Wow you did a fantastic job with mashing the potatoes, they taste great..."
7) Don't serve meals too late, evening meals for the under 10's should be before 6.30 pm. Hungry children can get "over" their hunger and become less inclined to eat at all.
If one parent comes home later than the rest of the family, that parent can still have "meal times" with the children. I know one family has the children doing homework at the table while Dad is having dinner, while he is eating, he is also helping with homework and talking about their day. At times the children finished of their meal with Dad.
8) Draw boundaries such as "kitchen is closed after dinner".