US

The Encyclopedia I hadn't finished yet

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 24 Nov 2015 01:02:00 +0000

Kessler is a very earlier riser. I think he always has been, but it's notable on the Gold Coast. I can't sleep past 4:00 a.m. myself. Often in the mornings Kess will come check to see if Mark and I are awake. If not, he'll go to his room and play with his toys or read.

This morning I heard him up and about, so I called him to my room. (This is Mark's first full week back in Tassie, so it's again sadly my room 4 nights a week.) Kess hopped into bed next to me. I asked him what he'd been up to. He said, "Well, I started reading a new encyclopedia, after I finished the other one." Yes, he reads encyclopedias like regular books.

I walked past his room just now and saw his bed as he left it when I called him to my room this morning. Such a sweet, smart kid.

Beautiful boy

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 19 Aug 2014 06:44:00 +0000

https://www.dropbox.com/s/qlsa322a6njvc9t/20140808_073826.mp4

Sunrise in Coomera

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 25 Jul 2014 20:27:00 +0000

Maybe he is still a baby.

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 13 Jul 2014 10:16:00 +0000

On the weekend we went to the mall to buy the kids robes (dressing gowns). They are hard to find here for some reason. It might be because we are halfway through the winter season in a place that doesn't get very cold. We did manage to find one for Makena but no luck for Kess. He wanted a hat as a consolation prize. There was a buy one get one free promo going on, so he picked this fox beanie thing as the second hat. I tried to talk him out of it, but he insisted. He has decided it's his bedtime hat. This is how he falls asleep every night, nearly as soon as his head hits the pillow. He generally wakes up before anyone else, but I suspect he wakes up in the same position. I wish I slept as well as he does.

While I'm here, I'll mention that he did wake up vomiting last night. This was his 3rd time in around 2-3 months. Makena had her 5th time last Wednesday. We have no idea what's causing it but it always happens in the middle of the night and once they empty their stomachs the are perfectly fine. Mark and I are usually exhausted from the sleepless nights but they are fine.

We took Makena to the doctor after the 4th time. She did a bunch of tests including a stomach xray, but she suspects it's just bad luck. We will see how how we go this week.

Last 9 months!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 28 Jun 2013 23:17:00 +0000

I'm so disappointed that I'm not keeping up with this blog! I'm grateful to have the stories that would have otherwise been forgotten, but alas, I've noticed some important milestones are missing!

I'm going to try to recap some here.

I just recently learned that when my boss was researching me prior to offering me the position, he came across this blog. He still hired me. Alls I can say he knew what he was getting!!

We've been on the Gold Coast for nearly a year now. May 30 was our 3 year anniversary here in Australia. Time certainly flies. I realized I never wrote about moving to the Gold Coast and how much things have changed since then. These are some major changes that I don't want to forget.

The project Mark was working on in Melbourne was cancelled early. That was the 2nd time and given it was meant to be a multi-year project, we were a bit gutted. He found a position here on the Gold Coast and as much as I REALLY didn't want to do another big move, we figured we didn't have a choice. A job is a job. There were a lot of positives about moving to Queensland, but I was just so sick of moving.

Mark was offered the job on a Friday; he started on the following Wednesday which was Kessler's birthday! We had a lot of packing to do and got started right away only to have to pack everything up again because Kessler's birthday party was at the house the following weekend. It was tough not having Mark there for so many reasons. Trying to do it all with 2 kids was beyond difficult and we just missed him. It ranks up there as one of the hardest times of my life. A lot happened those weeks which are still too traumatic to discuss. The beginning of the end of the move began when the kids, Merlin and I, picked up Mark from the airport with the car loaded to the gills. He'd just flown from the Gold Coast to Melbourne only to do the long drive back.

Mark drove 18 of the 20 hours that finally brought us to our new home and another chapter of our life. He somehow managed to find us a beautiful house to rent, about 2 kms from his new work location. With the type of work Mark does, it's very difficult to find a house nearby as he's typically working for large companies in large cities. Despite how much I didn't want to move again, things were starting to look up.

Unfortunately, about 6 weeks after we moved here, on Mark's birthday, he was given notice that the project was canceled. He had one week before he was out of work. To describe this as devastating would be an understatement. One of the risks of moving to the Gold Coast was this is not a huge city. There's very little chance of Mark finding another job here. It was a risk we were willing to take given that the project we moved here for was meant to last 3 years. We'd been through a fair amount the last few years... this really seemed unfathomable.

Mark immediately started the daunting task of finding more work. He had quite a few leads, but very little time. The first one that came through was a position in Tasmania, 2200km away. He was the new Project Manager for an SAP deployment with Hydro Tasmania. Given that we had just signed a new lease, just enrolled Makena in a new school along with the fact that only place worse than the Gold Coast for finding SAP work is Tasmania, we decided that rather than move the whole family again, Mark would commute each week. This was such a tough decision, but there was really no other choice.

I'll backtrack just a bit now. Shortly after moving to the Gold Coast, I flew back to Melbourne to help one of Mark's friends, Mustafa. He had started a business and was doing a trade show there. He needed someone to help him man the booth. On my return flight I sat next to a lovely woman on the plane. We got to talking about all kinds of things, but the notable point was that her daughter worked on the Gold Coast in IT. We exchanged details and she put me in touch with her daughter. We met for coffee and finally I got to meet her boss. I interviewed for the position along with 14 other people! Given that I had been out of the IT industry for a bit, I'm glad I only found out how many I was up against recently!

A few LONG weeks later I was offered the job. I started 6 November, which is funny given that was election day. I have been hinged to US politics for the last few years, so starting work the same day as the election was a bit tortuous for me!

So, I started working full time about a month after Mark start commuting to Tassie Monday-Friday. Life suddenly got very hard. I have soooo much respect for all of the single working parents out there, especially those without family around to help! It is tough! It is so nice to be working out in an office working again. I love my boss and enjoy the challenges, well, some of them. It's nice to be a part of something like this again!

We are now coming up on 9 months since Mark started his commute! It feels like years have passed. We miss him so much.. particularly the last few weeks. You see, the first phase of the project is going live this weekend. So, he's had to stay in Tassie 2 out of the last 3 weekends! I miss him (I might have mentioned that), but I am so proud of him for what he's nearly accomplished! Go MARK!! :)

Resusitation

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 27 May 2013 11:05:00 +0000

Every so often I make a small effort to revive the blog; it's generally very short lived.

Hopefully not this time.

Last week I received a letter from the school indicating that Kessler was selected for the gifted and talented program. There was a questionnaire about various milestones--when he started walking, talking.. I had to refer to my blog to answer some of them. Wow, I'm just so incredibly happy that I have video/photos/stories to help me remember those years!! I suspect that 5 years from now, I'll appreciate that I brought m2k2 back to life!

Back to my gifted and talented boy. He is. There's no doubt about it. The fact that he knew 40 different species of dinosaurs when he was 3... what they ate, how fast and tall they were. Mark and I had to work really hard to learn the names just so we didn't feel inadequate when he'd quizzed us. We were still wrong. Often. The one thing I hope never to forget is his pronunciation. Seriously. 4-6 syllable names he'd repeat after only hearing it once or twice. Watching him concentrate as he listened, then repeated.. Just amazing.

One of the questions that was interesting was about when he first began to talk. He didn't speak early, but when he spoke, it was in complete sentences. I'm so happy to have a video posted of him "talking".

Another question that I found interesting was about his sense of humor, whether it appeared to be more mature than his age. Mark and I have always noted how funny he is. His delivery is far better than mine. He often says something funny, without ever cracking a smile. He can be silly like a 5 year old too, but there are those moments where you know there's so much going on in his head, you can't help but marvel.

Anyway, I'm not sure how the program will go. I'm very proud of him for being selected, but a little sad for Makena. She's not quite as focused, but she's a smart cookie too. She's a bit more laid back, and happy-go-lucky which definitely has its merits. When she makes her mind up about something, you'd be hard-pressed to stop her.

One thing is for sure, they are two beautiful kids. I'm so lucky to have them!

What does identical mean?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 08 Dec 2012 09:24:00 +0000

I was reading news online; Mark and Kessler were reading a book. I heard Kessler ask, "What's identical?" "It means the same. Like my butt and your face." Gawd that sounds awful. While it probably is, Mark says things like this in a very conversational tone which generally causes the kids to do a double take then say something like, "Silly daddy!" Or something along those lines. Not this time. Kess responded, "Hmm.. kinda.. except your crack is bigger and it goes the other way." Mark's antics are failing as Kessler is very analytical.

Give that girl a raise!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 13 Jun 2012 02:07:00 +0000

A few weeks ago Makena said I look like the girl from Modern Family when I straighten my hair. I wasn't sure who she was referring to. She clarified last night:

She will receive an increase in her allowance and perhaps a trip to the optometrist.

November? Really?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 30 May 2012 02:06:00 +0000

This is going to be a spastic post. I managed to get Kessler off playing in his room while I applied for some jobs. He came in said, "I spelled your name, but I can't do the "d"." Given that unless he's spelling my middle name, Denise, he's not spelling my name. I went to his room to find this:

I told him him he wrote dad. He said, "Oh." And asked if I could help him spell "mom". He was quite proud of himself either way. He's such a wonderful kid.

Anyway, I took the photo and texted it to Mark and realized that texting is not great for posterity's sake so I thought I'd take this opportunity to update my blog. (November was the last time I updated it!!) Which reminded me that I should write about how Kessler lost his first tooth today! It's been a source of much angst for him the last week or two. It's exciting for him to partake in some of the big kid stuff like his big sister. But, he didn't seem to like having a loose tooth. He didn't want anyone to touch it because it would hurt. A few days ago he and Makena both started screaming because, "Kessler's bleeding!!!" We thought he must have cut himself badly so Mark and I both dropped what we were doing and ran to the bathroom only to find it was from his almost totally detached tooth. It's been overdue to come out for several days. This morning, after finishing up their morning routine Makena came barreling down the hallway announcing that Kessler had lost his tooth! The only problem is he actually lost his tooth! He's not even sure when it fell out.. he only noticed it when he was brushing his teeth. His first idea was to go check the bed. He'd been up for at least 45 minutes. So... I'm guessing the tooth fairy will just have to trust us on this one. The funny thing is, that is SO unlike Kessler. He's so switched on normally.

There's so much more to write about, but this will have to do for now.

I'm 'right.

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 09:18:00 +0000

Kessler and I went to the mall today so I could get a haircut and highlights. I've never taken him with me to get my hair done, but he's such a good boy--I was certain there would be no problems.. Worst case, I'd just give him my phone and he could watch dinosaur things on YouTube.

All was going as planned until he desperately had to go to the bathroom... while I had my hair full of foils. I tried to convince him to hang on; he did his best to oblige, but mother nature was more convincing. So, we ran through the mall to the furthest end of Myer (similar to Macy's). I'm sure people noticed, but I didn't notice them noticing me because I was too busy making it a point to reassure Kessler that we were nearly at the toilet. Not for his sake, of course. Anyone within earshot was going to know that I do not accessorize with foils.

Kessler finished his business and we sauntered back to the salon. I searched for ways to surreptitiously explain my appearance to those who might have missed the first spectacle. I drew a blank. Finally we were safely back at the salon.

About 30 minutes later, nature called again. At least this time the stylist was nearly finished drying my hair so we made our way to Myer for the second time. Kessler made a mad dash as soon as the restroom door was in sight. I arrived just a few seconds after him. After a few more seconds I stood outside of the only stall with a closed door. "Are you okay, buddy?" "Yes." "Do you need any help?" "No." "Okay, let me know if you do." "Okay." A few seconds later the lock began to turn. I gently pushed the door open so I could go in and help him button his pants. Much to my horror I found an equally horrified woman staring back at me. In typical Aussie style she says, "I'm 'right; thanks for checking."

Regaining composure, I quickly scanned the row of stalls once more trying to find the closed door that I previously missed. There wasn't one. "Kessler?" "Yes." I walked toward his voice and found him 2 stalls down, door wide open. Just sitting there, resting his chin in his hands, without a care in the world.

Kessler and Polina

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 18 Jul 2011 01:39:00 +0000

This is a photo of Kessler and his best friend, Polina!

My lovely girl!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 18 Jul 2011 01:28:00 +0000

Sorry for the orientation of the video. My phone has lost its bearing; it doesn't matter which way I hold it, it's going to be wrong.

Makena has been taking piano lessons at her school for about 3-4 months. (It's an external company, but they come to school to do the lessons.) Every other term they perform a concert. Makena was supposed to do 2 songs, but I think the teacher forgot. The laughing you hear in between songs is because of the exchange between Makena and Marcus, her teacher. She wasn't going to get up until she played her 2nd song!! Well done, MakNaks!

Makena saved the day!!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 16 Jul 2011 11:30:00 +0000

You may have read on Facebook that I had to call in an emergency locksmith the other day. I locked myself and the kids out and Merlin in. It all started because I was trying to surprise Mark by picking up his bike that had been serviced. That'll teach me.

Getting out of the house is always an ordeal. It's like herding cats while juggling ~~jello~~ jelly. And considering that I have moved 20 times in the last 19 years, with it being impossible to lock one's self out of many of those places, I think I did well not to need a locksmith at this place within the first week of moving here.

In an effort to see the positives of every situation (new resolution), I'm very grateful that I did manage not to forget my phone inside so I was able to do a search and find a local locksmith (their office is about 500 meters from the house). I'm also grateful that I forgot to lock the car the last time I used it. I was able to chuck the kids in there, you know, to keep them warm and all. Not so they wouldn't drive me batshit asking questions while I futilely checked every window and door. I'm also grateful that the locksmith turned up within 15 minutes and was able to unlock the door in less than 10 minutes. (He did have some trouble, otherwise he would have been done in 2 minutes.) I'm grateful the locksmith cut a free key for me so I could hide it outside. I am, however, not grateful that he charged me $180. $180!? I have no issues paying a premium for the service given that it was an "emergency", but $180??!?! It just seems unethical, immoral. It does cause a big lump in my throat as I ponder whether this would happen in the U.S. I honestly don't think it would--as an exception perhaps, but not the norm. I don't need another reason to be homesick.

It is what it is, I suppose. Putting it behind me, I chucked Merlin outside and buckled up the kiddos and off to the bike store we went. (These are kind of mundane details but I feel they are necessary. Someday I may think I want to have more kids. I can't imagine that, but stranger things have happened. If being too old doesn't make me feel better, perhaps a reminder of a day in my life with 2 young kids will snap me back to my senses.) I find the bike store, but have to drive by it. You see, I missed the entrance to the access road. The access roads are always one way here.. which inevitably is never my way given you have to enter them before you find the place where you're trying to go. So, I passed it. A series of left turns entwined with constant commentary: "Mom, you just went past the bike store." " Mom, why are you going past the bike store?" "Are we going home?" "Where are we going now?" "Is forty-seven-fifty-six-one-million more than 5?" "Can I have ice cream?" eventually lead us back to our destination. I parked the car behind the store. I'm grateful for the perpendicular ~~parking spaces~~ parks as I hate parallel parking particularly while being talked at. The only problem is the parking lot is a bit of a hike from the entrance to the store, but no big deal. I explained to the sales guy why I'm there. He retrieves the bike and tells me how much I owe. I promptly realize my debit card is not in my wallet. Damn.

I just had it to pay the criminal locksmith. The kids and I schlepped back to the car and found it on the center console. I'm grateful I didn't leave it at the house.

Back at the store, I pay for the service. The sales guys then shows me the massive crack in the frame of the bike. This is Mark's commuter bike. When he doesn't run the 9 miles to work, he rides his bike. (It saves $7 a day in train fares, 30 extra minutes commuting (each way), $100 a month gym membership.)

Let me recap. I just locked myself and the kids out of the house, wasted $180 to get back in, frustrated the hell out of myself trying to get the damn bike, paid $85 for the service on said bike -- only to find out the bike is on its deathbed.

THEN, I had to put the godforsaken thing in the car (while being talked at.) I had to call Mark and ruin the surprise because I wasn't sure how to get the back wheel off. By the time I got it in the damn car it needed to be serviced again. .

Needless to say I couldn't wait for nightfall so I could say good riddance to this day. While all good things must come to an end, apparently bad things can linger as long as they damn well please. The following day, I attempted to unlock the door after going to the supermarket. I was surprised that I couldn't turn the lock immediately, but thankfully, I was able to get it in a few seconds. The day after it took even longer. Each subsequent attempt was worse than the time before until a few days ago when I just could not get the lock to turn. I had just dropped Kessler off at preschool. This time I did forget my phone inside. For more than 15 minutes I wiggled, jiggled, shook, twisted and turned the key and handle.. trying to get the lock to open (while being talked at). I had my keys and the spare key, a lot of good that did me! And, the front door has a lock (similar to a chain) that cannot be unlocked from outside. Shit. I could have gone down the street to the locksmith that gouged me just days earlier; the one that caused this problem in the first place, but I couldn't bear the thought of being charged another $180 in case they didn't see it that way. I was just about to give up and head to a friend's house where I could ponder my options when I decided to let Makena have a try. Even though I wiggled it every possible directions, perhaps she'd get just the right angle.

Makena beamed when I told her to have a go. (She lives for moments like this. If I can't get a jar open, she always asks if she can try.) She grabbed the keys with determination. "What do I need to do?" she said as I watched the key turn 45 degrees. She nearly jumped from her skin when I grabbed her hand/keys before she could turn it back. And we were in on Makena's first go. We celebrated with high fives and hugs! I'm grateful that Makena was able to unlock the door. I'm a little less than thrilled that my beautiful little girl thinks her mom is an incompetent boob that cannot unlock a simple door.

In case you come for a visit, you now know why there is red tap affixed to the lock.

Happy Birthday, Kessler!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 11 Jul 2011 05:00:00 +0000

To honor Kessler on his birthday, I'll quickly share some current Kesslerisms.

1. "No, I love you more. I love you fifty-six-thousand-million dinosaurs. Is that more than 3?"
2. " Is 56 more than 7?"
3. "Dad, you're a disgusting man head." He says this when he's particular mad at Mark and he's as serious as can be.
4. "What comes after 39?"
5. "I'm going to give you the biggest hug ever." As he strangles the crap out of you.
6. "Who let the dogs out? Woof Woof Woof."
7. "Who let the cats out? Meow Meow Meow."
8. "Who let the dogs and cats out? Woof Meow Woof Meow Woof Meow."
9. "Slimey did it; he's an herbivore." When asked about why he'd ripped the leaves off of my house plant.
10. "Slimey's sister died because she touched a red back spider."
11. "Oh no, I made a big mistake." In a voice like the Cookie Monster.
12. "I'm dooooone." In the voice of the Cookie Monster, Opera Singer, Dinosaur, mouse and whatever else comes to mind when he's ready to have his bum wiped after a pooh.
13. "I loooove Salmon."

I wish I had words to describe his big brown eyes right when he realizes we're watching him. Not looking at him, but watching him in amazement. It happens a lot. He's a hilarious little boy. The stuff he comes up with is pretty amazing and it's all delivered with a straight face.

I could write a book about him, but I'll just stick with some simple facts I hope to never to forget. He's still all about dinosaurs. He prefers carnivores to herbivores. He goes to Rainbow 2 days a week where his best friends are Polina, Chile and Kiara. He also goes to St. Mary's 2 days a week where his best friend is Edie. He's quite the ladies man. His favorite colors are pink, purple and brown. His favorite food is chicken nuggets -- so he says, but I think it's Salmon. He'll pretty much eat anything. He loves to color and paint but nothing compares to going to the museum to see the Dinosaur exhibit. He often asks, "what's today?" If the answer is a weekend day, he'll ask if we can go to the museum. I know I'm slightly biased, but he really is an amazing kid.

We love you, Kessman!!

It's been a year..

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 08 Jun 2011 06:48:00 +0000

It's been just over a year since we arrived in Australia! It's very hard to believe it's been that long though, at times it seems like it's been a lifetime since I was back in the States.

Things feel mostly normal with the occasional uprising of trepidation. It's quite unsettling to be able to take nothing for granted. Like, for example, I still can't trust that one day I won't look up and find myself driving on the wrong side of the road. It's only happened once in a year and just as Mark warned, it happened when there were no cars around, thank goodness.

It's tough having to think about how much something weighs or how far away a place is or what 17 degrees will feel like. Mailing a letter means going to the post office because I haven't bought a book of stamps yet. I don't know if they sell books of stamps nor do I know how much postage is required for a simple letter.

My wallet still weighs 100 pounds (50 kilograms) because there are no notes smaller than a $5. I end up with a bunch of $1 and $2 coins in my purse because I don't want to have to inspect each one to determine the denomination before I start to count. It goes something like this.. "okay, that one is $1.. this is $2, that makes $3.. here's $.50.. shit, how much do I have now? $2.50? Alright, that one is $1 and this is $2. Don't forget to go to the post office to mail that letter. This one is $.20.. no $.50...." "I know it's only $4, but can I pay with my debit card, I mean EFTOS?" (whatever the hell that is.)

A new boy joined Makena's class a few weeks ago. He and his family are from Canada. I instantly befriended the mom; it's amazing how much you can have in common with a complete stranger. I picked her up one night to meet some of the moms for a drink at a local restaurant. When the time came to order drinks from the bar she deferred to me because she wasn't sure how to do it. It's exactly the same, well except for the inevitable miscommunication caused by the conflicting accents. But, I knew what she was feeling. It's almost as though for months on end you haven't taken a deep breath. Because, taking a deep breath means you will switch off for that split second while you inhale just a bit deeper. Switching off isn't allowed because you might be forced to think right at that exact moment! The last thing you want is to look like an idiot doing something that is mundane to everyone else; how uncool.

That's a look into the emotional side of being here a year.. I'll post something about the tangibles later.

Kiddos

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 08 Jun 2011 06:07:00 +0000

Here are some photos of the kiddos. The ones of Kess were taken at St. Mary's. That's where he goes to "kinder". I can't remember if I have written about it before or not, but it's a council (government) provided preschool program. It's just 2 days a week, 3 hours each day. It's about 2 blocks away from where we live currently. Kessler loves it!!! He skips all the way there and exclaims with glee, "I'm so excited!" as he bounds down the sidewalk.

Makena's are through Brighton Primary. She's doing really well. Some of her friends call her Mrs. No. Hopefully she remembers this for the boys when she's a teenager!

At the footy

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 10 Apr 2011 06:11:00 +0000

Had a wonderful birthday yesterday complete with chocolate cake, sprinkles and gummi dinosaurs. We went to Bendigo to see Mark's grandma, aunties, uncles and cousin. Mark's grandma isn't doing so well, that was quite tough to see.

Today we are at the footy match... Essendon and St. Kilda..Mark's team and Makena and my team. I've recently decided to piss on Mark's parade and become an Essendon fan. It's hard to talk shit when you barrack for the same team.

(I had a photo but when I try to upload it from my phone.. it's sideways and I can't fix it.)

So Inappropriate..

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 03 Apr 2011 10:19:00 +0000

Last night Mark and I attended an "Inappropriate Party" hosted by the parents of one of Makena's classmates from last year. We were given several weeks notice which is of no benefit to me. I don't get serious about these things unless time is of the essence. Also, we weren't sure we'd be able to find a babysitter.

As time grew closer I started to fret. I don't remember ever going to a costume party even as a child; I really wasn't sure what to expect. Anyway--I finally had an idea--Hugh Hefner and a pregnant playboy bunny. And I'll be damned if the second that entered my head, I couldn't think of anything else. After a couple of days of desperately trying to come up with an idea that didn't involve me wearing a bunny tail I set out to put together the costume. Dammit!

After several trips to the costume shop-- trying to find a bunny suit that was big enough for a pregnant belly but not too big for my less than pregnant bosom--I finally determined that such a costume doesn't exist. Yet, the mental block that was disallowing any other ideas to flow freely was still in full force. I finally pieced together enough of an outfit with what I had at home. And had 2 very sleepless nights stressing over my choice of costumes. "It's just like wearing a bathing suit--it's just like wearing a bathing suit…” became my mantra.

The morning of the party we had to go back to the mall to pick up some final accessories--namely inserts to assist my bosom. As Mark and I were standing in front of the display, pondering my options, Makena said, "Look, it fits (or it sticks--I'm not sure which one)". She had lifted her shirt up and had one of the falsies stuck to her bare chest. There comes a point when you realize your kids are far more aware of what’s going on than you thought (like deducing the purpose (somewhat) of an object by looking at the package.)—this was definitely that point. Makena—we owe you a few therapy sessions for that one. Sorry, sweetheart.

The babysitter issue was resolved by the party’s host. They gave us the number to a nanny service and we shared a sitter with another family—some friends of ours who are also parents from last year’s class. A few hours before the party, the mom sent me a text with concerns about the logistics of leaving the kids with the sitter—she couldn’t have the sitter see her in her get-up. Apparently the sitters from this agency are of the mature variety.

Good thinking, Rebecca! Janet was probably in her 70s, extremely nice and extremely proper! She kept referring to Kessler as the “little gentleman”. I was embarrassed to be wearing my diversion dress and fish nets, let alone a bunny outfit. It took us about 45 minutes to leave because the little gentleman was not warming up to Janet. She was taking it in stride—encouraging us to leave and all would be fine. We finally did make the mad dash to the door—by the time we got settled into the car we could hear that he had settled.

We finished getting dressed at Rob and Rebecca’s. I was so relieved to see their costumes—Rebecca was a suicide bomber with a see thru burka. It was awesome. Rob was a pedophile priest complete with bible, advertisements of child models from clothing magazines falling from it and a broken zipper. He also had a pedophile’s hair cut as well (who knew they had one)?

The party was a blast—complete with inappropriate games and food. We stayed out until 2:00 a.m. I cannot remember the last time that happened. I had to don my diversion dress to return home. To confirm that we made the right decision about said dress, Janet walked to the front door and hesitated. I opened the door for her and we walked her to her car as she thanked me, explaining that it wasn't proper for the guest to open the door of someone else's home.

Rubbish!!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 01 Apr 2011 12:35:00 +0000

Last year I loved Makena's school.   But, I've grown a bit cold this year. There are a lot of reasons for this; most of which I will keep to myself as I ponder them endlessly. (It sucks to be nonconfrontational sometimes.) One reason is self-induced (volunteering to be class rep) so I can't count that one--at least not in this post. I'll do a self loathing post later. But one reason is just a quagmire of disappointment, for lack of a better description.

Those who know me know I live in a world of oblivion. For example, our realtor commented a few months ago that some/one/all of the taps in our house were the opposite of what they should be. Turn on cold, you get hot... No way. I asked Mark; he confirmed. We lived there for 3 1/2 years and I didn't know this? There's little doubt in my mind that I repeatedly turned on the wrong tap, realized my error then turned on the correct one, never giving it a second thought. So, when I noticed the school yard had a lot of litter--that meant it had a LOTof litter.   Everyday at drop off and pick up I would step over it, just as all the other moms, dads and kids did. And everyday I would have this inner monologue.

"Wow, I can't believe all of this garbage!"
"I should at least pick up what I'm stepping on/over."
"Yes, but where would you put it?"
"Surely, they'll clean it up soon."

On top of the guilt I had for not doing anything about, I was starting to get disgusted that the kids were playing amongst all the trash, THEN I really started to stew about what a poor example this was for the kids (the fact that they were allowed to leave the grounds looking like that AND that all the moms, dads and teachers were clearly okay with it too!)

Enough is enough I said! I wanted to do something about it without being confrontational. I decided I'd recruit Makena's class to help me clean up after school that day. I mean, movies are made about moments like this.. okay, maybe that's only in my head. So, I sent out an email:

"Hi everyone, As I walked through the playground this morning, dodging litter, I thought why not just pick it up! I'm going to recruit Makena to help me today after pick up. Anyone want to join us; I'll bring extra trash bag?"

All day I imagined the little preppies working together cleaning up the rubbish. All the moms and dads would be so proud; the principal would thank them at assembly. It was a beautiful thought.

Reality was a little different.  Makena and I clamoring around by ourselves in the sweltering heat (temperature was 20 degrees higher than the day before). That was until Makena spat the dummy and left me on my own to pick up the garbage AND deflect her incessent whining. "Why do I have to do it?" "Well, there's a very good answer for that, but I'm too hot and pissed to tell you now." I was determined though--I got my head back in the game, continually reaffirming that I was doing the right thing.

And then.. and then she turned up. "Hi Kelly. I got your email. This is not your responsibility. You need to stop. No one is going to thank you. You look like an.. " she finally paused and thought better of finishing that sentence. I stuttered and stumbled as I spat out my retorts--I don't need a thank you.. I don't care what I look like (except the whale tail from my pants sticking to my legs when I bend over.. that kind of bothers me).. I'm doing this for my daughter--I want to set a better example.. "No, you need to stop.. you need to complain to the principal."   The irony is that that would have been much less confrontational than the passive approach I took. I wouldn't have gotten nearly as stinky and sweaty either.

She finally left. I was even more determined to get the yard spotless.. for about a nano second. I waffled back and forth between quitting and seeing it through. One minute I was telling Makena we were leaving only to find myself walking in the opposite direction picking up more crap. (The kids were literally using the garbage to make structures..) We were finally done in about an hour. It wasn't 100% but certainly good enough. I think we collected about 1 1/2 bags of garbage.

The next morning some of the parents complimented us on how much better it looked. Many explained that they couldn't stay to help because they had other commitments (I did only give them a few hours notice afterall).   Then at pick up, sadly there was more garbage. Not nearly what we cleaned up the day before, but definitely an indication that in a few weeks time our efforts will have proven to be futile. Well, except for the fact that Makena will now be able to say, "One day, my damn mom made me clean up everyone elses' garbage while they got to play on the monkey bars!!!"

Sorry Mak-Naks--hopefully this will make sense one day!

Rock you!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 28 Mar 2011 12:54:00 +0000

(I was looking through the videos I've accumulated and came across this one. It was easy enough to edit, so here it is!)

There's an assembly every Monday morning at Makena's school. At the end of last year the band played this song. It quickly became one of Makena's favorite songs and subsequently one of Kessler's. The ever obliging daddy ripped it to CD so we could enjoy it while in the car! : )

What happened was..

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 28 Mar 2011 12:21:00 +0000

Kessler was in a big Christmas concert back in December. It was 3 hours long; every kid performed the entire 3 hours. It was absolutely adorable, but required a lot of editing. It will take me hours to find software and edit it and since I hadn't finished my immigration paperwork or our 2009 taxes, I decided I'd better put it on the back burner. And unfortunately, I have a very difficult time updating the blog out of sequence. One of my quirks, I guess. Anyway, it makes me quite sad to think of all the things that didn't make it to the blog during that time. And even though the immigration paperwork is done (pending with immigration), 2009 AND 2010 taxes are done--I still feel inundated with responsibilities.

I've decided that's no excuse. You see, a few weeks ago we went to Tasmania for Mark's best friend's father's funeral. It was an amazing funeral, as odd as that sounds. They spoke a lot about Barry. They played several of his favorite songs, all country--which was quite appropriate for a funeral. One of the speakers was Mark's friend, Barry's son. Among other things, he talked about how his father always remembered everything. He recently found out that this was because he kept a journal and would frequently go back and reread what he had written. I only met Barry once, maybe twice. But from the stories Mark told about him (and the eulogies) he's not the kind of guy you'd peg for having a diary. It made me realize that if a hardcore guy like Barry cherished his memories so much to write them down and read them, then everyone should do it. Then I remembered that I had been doing that with my blog--and I also remembered the joy of going back and reading the stories, stories that would have otherwise been forgotten.

So, here I am.. setting aside my quirk to move forward with the help of Barry. Thanks, mate.

It's been almost 10 months since we landed in Melbourne. I can't believe it's been that long--yet, I also can't believe it hasn't been longer! Makena is back in Prep again. Since she started halfway through last year and just barely met the birthday cut off to start prep anyway, we decided it was best to let her have the whole experience. It was a tough decision because she had so many wonderful friends. We weren't counting on that when we rationalized that holding her back might be the likely outcome when we enrolled her. Regardless, she's doing so well. I'm so proud of her for being able to roll with all that has been thrown at her. She's just such an easy going, happy kid. I hope she stays that way!!

Kessler is going to Rainbow 2 days a week. We dropped him down from 5 days because it was just so expensive, $1800 a month!! He's going to a regular Kinder program as well called St. Mary's by everyone but Kessler--he calls it Saints Mary or the "blue gate school". He only goes there 2 days a week for just 3 hours a day. The council (government) offers these kinder programs. They are quite cheap, relatively speaking, and the kids will generally move up to primary school with some friends. It's just a block and a half away. He loves it; I'm not exactly sure why. But, as we walk up to the door he clinches his hands together and says, "I'm so excited!"

Makena and Kessler are both taking swim lessons. Makena LOVES to swim. Kessler does too, except when he's in class. Then it can go either way. Makena also just started taking piano lessons. This is offered at her school. She and one of her friends from class take the lessons together. She's really enjoying them so far!

Kessler is all about dinosaurs these days. Nothing I write here will give that sentence justice. A few weeks ago he was watching a Dinosaur documentary--clearly not aimed at 3 year olds. Later he retrieved his dinosaur encyclopedia (again, not targeted toward the toddler demographic)--and found one of the dinosaurs featured in the documentary. There are hundreds of dinosaurs in this book and honestly, they all look nearly the same--but he's able to distinguish between them. He remembers their names, no matter how many syllables. He'll go to a random page and tell me that that particular dinosaur is a carnivore. At first I assumed he was just guessing correctly--but when I asked him how he knew he explained that he had to be a carnivore because of his teeth and his talons then he explained to me that the dinosaur on the adjacent page was a herbivore because of his neck and lack of talons. I kind of felt like an idiot after that.

He's graduated from simply roaring to.. well.. roaring like a dinosaur--I can't even begin to spell it phonetically. Let's just say it's quite realistic--so much so that we have to tell him off all the time because he's scaring other kids. Incidentally, he's still quite the chic-magnet, despite this. He and Polina are going strong.

That's enough for now! I'll write more later!!

I can't sing..

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 01 Oct 2010 17:25:00 +0000

This is so much the case that I took singing lessons shortly after Makena was born so I wouldn't make her cry when I sang her lullabies. Not that she did cry, but it would have been a perfectly reasonable response. The lessons helped the ittiest bit--my teacher taught me to whisper-sing. I'm pretty sure she made up this technique, but it did relieve the guilt I felt about possibly being brought up on charges for child abuse by vocal torture.

While I can't sing, Mark can. He's quite talented actually. He also plays the piano well and can often just recreate any song he hears. I'm not sure whether my disinclination to music is related to my clear lack of talent, but I've never been one to know who sings what song and who's the latest rising star. I do like a good song, but it takes a bit for me to even make the mental note of the title/artist. Mark, on the other hand, listens to every genre--jazz, country, hip hop.. you name it, it's on his iPod, along with a bunch of other songs you can't name.

No matter which way you slice it, Mark has an affinity toward music. With it comes an almost compulsory need to sing along with whatever song is playing. He thinks I'm making fun of him.. but I adore this. The other day we were driving along and the song, "Need You Now" by Lady Antebellum came on the radio. I couldn't help but smile at him, especially when he sang the "need" part--if you know the song you know what I'm talking about. The smile wasn't even a smile.. it was an ooze, but he doesn't know this; all he saw was the smile.

So, Markus, I declare before all four of the people who read my blog.. I love to hear you sing... don't ever stop!

Footy!!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 25 Sep 2010 16:53:00 +0000

I used to like American Football. When I was kid, my dad, brother and I would watch the Redskins whenever they had a game. They were good back then. I was a really good player too. I could run fast and catch and I could throw the ball better than most men I knew. But, after moving away from the east coast I grew away from the sport. The Redskins sucked so badly their games were never broadcast outside of the Va/DC area. Meeting Mark put the final nail in the American Football coffin. He just could not get into the sport. After watching a few Aussie Rules footy games.. I figured out why.

Several years ago, on one of my first visits to Australia, Mark took me to a footy game in Tasmania. Much of the story I'm about to recount was told to me by Mark. Since he was the one who told me the bird that was bullying me was a Magpie and later refuted that in the comment sections, you might not want to make any life altering decisions based on the information contained below. Aussie Rules originated in Victoria, the state in which we currently live. Since Melbourne is the biggest city in the state, the area is saturated with teams. Quite different than the US.

There is currently no team in Tassie, but according to Mark they tend to ~~root~~ (root means something altogether different here... I can't remember if that's just an Australian thing or if its alternative definition is known in the US as well??) barrack for Hawthorne in Tassie. Now, this is information Mark did not disclose to me until.. well ever, I worked it out on my own when we turned up to the game. You see, Hawthorne was playing Sinhilda, I was told. (That is what everyone says--don't let anyone tell you different.) Mark, being the loving husband that he is, wanted me to get into the game so he bought me a Sinhilda footy top! Now, you may or may not recall that in the early days of visiting Australia I was under the impression that Australians hated Americans. Why, you ask? Because Mark said they did. For this reason I rarely ever spoke in public. I really tried to keep a low profile. Nothing like keeping a low profile by wearing a red/white/black jersey in a sea of yellow and brown. Thanks Mark.

Not that Americans aren't into their football, but it's different here. The game is so extremely intense. They rarely have commercials because there's NEVER a break. They don't wear pads or helmets or any protective gear. They don't stop after each play. Every player is fit beyond belief because they are running constantly. There are no overweight players as you sometimes see in the states. It makes American football look like a tea party, I don't mean the political kind. I imagine it's because of this that the fans are intense as well. So, turning up in the opposing team's jersey was nothing short of traumatic. Once again, thank you Mark.

After much mockery I finally learned that Sinhilda is actually St. Kilda, the St. (Saint) Kilda Saints, in fact. Australians have a law against enunciating, apparently. Lucky enough when we moved to Australia our closest team is St. Kilda (not like the other teams are far or anything) but, since I already had the jersey, I already had my team! Serendipity!

The reason I'm writing about this now is because yesterday was the Grand Final--the Superbowl of Australian Rules football. Another comparison that makes me marvel at the difference between Australia in the US is there are oodles of people at Mark's work that were going to the game. Kessler's teacher went as well. I only heard of people who knew people that went to the Superbowl. Anyway, my team, St. Kilda made it to the Grand Final along with the Collingwood Magpies. It's unfortunate that my mother and father-in-law are Collingwood fans. I just can't ~~root~~ barrack for a team whose Mascot is terrorizing me.

I wasn't too interested in watching the game, until I started watching the game. Holy hell it's action packed. It just took a few seconds before I was ooowing and aaawing. Next thing I knew I was yelling at the TV. St. Kilda was a few goals down at half time. I kind of figured they were going to play less aggressively because of the deficit. Not the case, my friends. They rallied back to tie the game, then take the lead. Collingwood answered and the game was tied with only a couple of minutes on the clock. Mark and I started talking about whether they would go into sudden death or whether they'd have to play another quarter if there was a tie. We'd soon find out; the game did end with a tie. We anxiously watched the TV as many of the players collapsed onto the ground out of sheer exhaustion. The expression on both teams' faces was nothing short of disbelief and defeat. Those who weren't on the ground were wandering around the field aimlessly. Why weren't they getting ready for the tie breaker? Because there isn't one, until next weekend. They have to come back and play again!!!! The poor bastards! Can you imagine? I feel so sorry for the players and the die hard fans that won't be able to come back next weekend. I don't feel sorry for the AFL or whoever gets the proceeds from two Grand Finals in an 8 day period!

On a side note, it's so [insert a range of emotions here] to watch the nuances of how the kids are changing as they adjust to living here. For example, Mark was getting Makena excited about the game. The week before last there was footy day at school where the kids were allowed to wear civvies with a footy top instead of their uniform. So, we bought Makena a St. Kilda top. With it came a lesson on who she was "going for" as this is all new to her, of course. Mark kept quizzing her so she'd know the right answer to give. At various points over the last several days "who are you going for" has been the topic of conversation.

The choice in wording, though subtle, elicits excitement, wonder, disbelief... I mean, my kids are Australian. They always have been, but it won't be long before that's all they'll remember, especially Kessler. Every day their accent changes and they use a new word. Of course this is completely normal for them. It isn't any different than it's supposed to be. I really am so excited for them, but at times I feel a little sad because it feels like a part of me is slipping away. Like, they'll never know their mom was a kick ass quarterback!! Lucky for me, I'm not much of a traditionalist, so the feeling is fleeting rather than an anchor that ties me down. I am quickly reminded that the type of "me" that I am, is exactly what brought us here. So with that, I look forward to the future with anxious anticipation and a small tear in my eye.

Letter

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 23 Sep 2010 12:33:00 +0000

Dear Mr. Magpie,

I hope this letter finds you well. You're right; that's a lie. But, I do hope it finds you reasonable, reasonable enough to honor my requests.

I'm not sure what you think I've done or plan to do to you, but whatever it is, I assure you your attacks are unjustified. Really, I'm just walking to retrieve the car from the train station so I can pick up my beautiful kids. Surely you can find no harm in that, can you? Yet, you still find it necessary to dive-bomb me. While I'm glad you have yet to drop a "bomb", the near misses of your body to my head are getting a bit unsettling. Please understand, I am far too cool to duck and cover and shout expletives at birds, but that is what you've driven me to do. Unlike you, I prefer to fly under the radar--you know, go unnoticed, blend in with the scenery. While we are on the subject. Your morning serenade is really starting to piss me off as well. You see, dawn is when I go to bed and that is when you decide to announce your presence to the world--from the tree right outside my f'g bedroom window. While I absolutely adore my husband, having you screech his name during those delicate first few moments prior to slumber well, it just doesn't endear you to me. "Maawwwwwwk.. MAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWK" In fact, it's downright maddening. Is it necessary to be so loud? On one of your more vocal days--you know, the one where you started at dawn and were still at it when I left at 3:00 p.m. to pick up the car, I could hear you loud and clear for over four blocks. Other sounds came and went but your incessant screeching remained for FOUR blocks!!

So, please accept my offer of a truce. I promise never to write about you on my blog again, if you immediately cease and desist with the terrorism. Fair?

Sincerely,
Kelly Pellas

Young Love

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 21 Sep 2010 12:29:00 +0000

Makena and I found Kessler and his friends on the playground today at pick up. The fact that that is where they can be found on a fairly regular basis gives me a huge sense of relief; our Year of Winters is nearly coming to an end. I won't be sorry to see it go!

It took me a few seconds to spot Kessler; it always does. I think I feel I should be able to know where the kids are instantaneously--it gives me pause that my eyes aren't drawn to them immediately when I'm within a certain range. I think that's why a few seconds feels like an eternity. Anyway, he came bounding around the corner with a little girl in tow. Polina is her name. Kristi explained that they had been holding hands since they came outside. I suspect they were taking turns dragging each other around as Polina had now taken the lead. She and Kessler were making their way into the playhouse right outside the door to their classroom.

Makena loves when there is something to distract me; she wastes no time skirting around my peripheral until she finds something to play with. There's no shortage--it's really an amazing classroom. And lucky for Makena I'm easily distracted when I enter Kessler's room. I always hope to catch a glimpse of him doing whatever it is that he does when I'm not around.

A few days ago I arrived when he was doing Show and Tell. It was great timing. His back was to the door even. Kristi asked where he had gotten the stuffed Penguin--which Kessler used to call Penguingy. He told her he found it in his room. Which is sort of true. He received it for Christmas last year and it was one of his special babies for a while. When I was unpacking boxes a few weeks ago I found it and showed it to him. "Awww, it's Penguin!" It made me just a little sad that he pronounced it properly. Kristi asked if any of his friends had any questions. A bunch of hands flew to the air. She prompted Kessler to call on one of his classmates. "Ummmmm... Alesky." Kessler said like a seasoned public speaker. "Who bought it for you?" Kessler quickly responded as if to quell anyone from getting the wrong idea about Penguins origins, "My mommy didn't give it to me. I found it in my room." Kristi prompted him to call on someone else.. "Ummmmm.. Zack." "Does it talk?" "No." Kristi asked, "What if I push on his belly?" "No". "Give it a go; let's see." So, Kessler pressed the belly and nothing.. "What about his beak?" Kessler pressed his beak, nothing again. By this time, Kessler's audience started to stir because of our presence and Kessler turned around to see me. He gave a bashful smile as I came over to greet him. I am so impressed with Miss Kristi. She really puts in a lot of effort--getting a bunch of 3 and 4 year old to be comfortable speaking in front of a group is nothing short of brilliant.

Then yesterday Ms. Mina, the music teacher was there. The kids were in a circle--again, Kessler's back was to me. They each had a ball behind their back. Ms. Mina sang, "I'm looking for a blue ball, a blue ball.. Who can give me a bluuuue ball?" Kessler sneaked a peak behind his back, no doubt trying to remind himself of the color of his ball. It was green. "I'm looking for an orange ball, an orange ball... Who can give me an oraaaange ball?" Kessler's feet were stretched out in front of him, rocking back and forth. I assume he was anxiously anticipating his turn. "I'm looking for a green ball, a green ball... Who can give me a greeeen ball?" It was almost as if you can identify the exact second he realized, me.. I can give you a green ball!! He whipped it around then gently rolled it to Ms. Mina. When they were done with the ball song, Ms. Mina looked at us and asked if Makena would like to join in. She said yes, and sat down next to Kessler. He seemed proud to have her there--almost as proud as I was.

Back to today, Makena had long since left my side; climbing on the various play structures. I summoned them to join me at the door; to my surprise they both came almost immediately. Polina stood there watching Kessler getting ready to leave; I thought for sure she was going to start crying. I asked Kessler if he'd like to give her a hug. He immediately ran to her and gave her a big hug. She beamed as soon as she realized he was coming back for her. Kessler joined me again and I noticed another little girl was now standing next to Polina with a look of anticipation. I asked if he wanted to give her a hug. He said, "I already did." Then Kristi clarified, "Anna." Kessler obliged.

There are a few doors connecting the inside to the outside. For some reason, the one we always go through is connected to the toilets. The doors are all glass--no need for modesty with 3 year olds, I suppose. Makena needed to go so Kessler and I were waiting. I looked back to see poor Polina still standing there gazing at Kessler. Shortly after I noticed, he noticed and walked over to the door. He put his hand on the window; Polina's face absolutely lit up as she ran to the door and placed her hand against the window.. right where Kessler's was. They both gently kissed the door. Everyone, together now.. "awwwwww"

I was telling Mark the story on the way home from the train station. Of course he got a kick out of it. For my benefit, he asked Kessler if he wanted to get a belt soon? So he could start putting notches on it... to which Makena responded, "I do; I want a belt!" Doh!!