Happy Birthday to my Green Eyed Girl.

Today my girl turns nine… nine. She is my baby, how did this happen? I remember the day(s) she was born. Yes, it took 26 hours for her to finally make an appearance.  I remember too, that she was born at exactly 2am.  Her big brother, sleeping at home with his Granny, fell out of bed at exactly 2am.  Her Daddy and I fell asleep sometime around 3am, snuggled in the birth centre bed together, him, her, me.

She had hair, lots and lots of hair.  She still does, thick, thick waves of light brown hair.  We took her home that day in the same babygro suit her  brother had worn home less then two years before. One of my favourite photos of that day is of the green eyed girl, still with her hospital issue knotted surgical stocking hat on, snuggled in our bed with her blue eyed, golden haired brother.  Safe and warm under the Indian peacock blue cover.

From the get go our Green Eyed Girl looked passed today and into tomorrow.  Just yesterday she started talking about her tenth birthday.  One foot in today, the other aways stepping out into the great unknown… seeking tomorrow and it’s promises of  things yet to come.  Even as a babe she felt it too hard to sleep, sleep may mean things are missed… so no, no sleep thanks.

Her names mean life, radiance, brightness and pearl.  Our Green Eyed Girl is true to these names.  She is a Pisces princess… a dreamer, sensitive, intuitive… an escapist, idealistic, emotional.  She is full of love, laughter and dreams.  She loves to cook, and imagines herself as a chef… A dessert chef, in her own sweet cafe paradise.  She is learning to stay true to herself, to listen to what her own voice says.  She loves clothes, and likes to plan what to wear as soon as an invite is received, a date set… I see her thinking, and planning… that she gets from me.

The Green Eyed Girl, with the infectious laugh, the always looking, always seeking eyes, with a wish for tomorrow to come, happy, happy, happy birthday.  Hold tight darling girl, sit tight, for your tomorrow is coming faster than I am ready for…

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Tags: birthday, children, green eyed girl, parenting

A well loved vintage

I have in my wardrobe a well worn black velvet blazer. I have had it since I was 18 and still wear it every year, that’s 20 years of wearing it. It was second hand when it came to me. My best friend bought it for 50 cents in Vinnies. She gave it to me, as she is tall, and it didn’t fit her lovely long, lean limbs for long.

When we were in uni, I covered the silver buttons with velvet, this is the only change I’ve made.  The pockets are just the right size for lipstick, and a small credit card plastic slip cover that also fits my license – I used to need it for ID, now I take it incase I’m in an accident.

The blazer is timeless, it still fits me like a glove.  It has a well worn feel, and a softness to it.  When I put it on I always feel great.  It’s like coming home. That’s what it feels like when I see my friend.  Home.  It is home.  She is home.

We have been friends since primary school.  We have had the same, now very cringe worthy, boy crushes.  We have roller skated in disco glory, sang with hair brushes to Wham! Worn gumboots and thrown fire crackers into puddles at just the right moment for them to explode in a flurry of mud and water and smoke… we have been wearing each others clothes for what seems like forever.  Say the words ‘burger rings’ and we’ll both smile.  We started our teaching careers at the same school.  We have been through heartbreak, relationships, pregnancy, child birth.

I know how incredibly lucky I am to have her as a friend… have her as part of my life for so long.   She knows me better than I know myself most likely.  We are separated now by a state and a sea.  We have facebook, and twitter and texts and the phone.  We have planes, and the ability to slip into each others houses without the need to ask if it’s convenient.

And when we are not near, I miss her.  But, I have a black velvet blazer with black satin lining, material full of memories and friendship and love.  I wear it for style, and warmth.  But mostly I wear it for the way her life and mine are woven into the weft and the warp of the cloth.  

Tags: Best Pam, Clothes, freindship, vintage, wrapped in love

I. Am. Exhausted.

Well, it’s been a long time between posts.  A very long time.  It’s not that I don’t want to blog, I do, I really, really, do.  It’s just I don’t have time, or energy.  I am, for all intents and purposes working full time at the moment and studying.

I have been sick, and still am not well, but the chance of just resting up are slim to none really. Having rheumatoid arthritis means that often if I do get a cold, it take me longer to recover, my immune system not being what it should be.  Again, the solution is rest… pffft.

I have not been for a run for over two weeks, everything hurts.   I have a blocked nose, my ears ache, my head hurts.

I am exhausted. All. The. Time.

I have to do 2 assignments for a uni course I don’t really want to do, but due to a difference in what deems you as a qualified teacher BETWEEN STATES OF THE SAME COUNTRY I have to.  I could just quit my job and start working in a primary school, but I want to keep teaching kinder.  I could take leave without pay and do the practical component in 4 weeks straight, but then there would be no income for a month… ah, nope, not an option.

It’s the start of the school year still, and I have a class of children who are still settling in, some well, others less so.  On Friday I was, for the first time in many, many years at a loss as to what I should do with a class of over tired children, unfamiliar relief staff, and myself having had no lunch break… what I wanted to do was sit on the mat and cry really.  Not an option.

I remained at work long after my required time trying to come up with solutions for the less settled children, but really what they need is a teacher with enough energy to focus just on them.  Which, by the middle of the year I will be, with  the uni work behind me.

So really, it will be OK.  This will pass… life will resume to it’s former rhythm. This I know, and it’s what keeps me going.

So now, I’ll take a breath, wipe the self pitying tears, and get on with it.

Or, as my darling Best Pam says, I’ll build a bridge and get over myself.

Tags: arthritis, build a bridge, school

Hump Day Happiness

I know, I know I’ve been absent a long time… life has been happening, as it sometimes does and I have not had time or energy to blog.  I have been working every day, been to Tassie and been unwell. But, I felt it was about time I started hump day happiness again.  Although I’ve been flat out, I have a lot to still be thankful for, a lot that made me smile this past week.  So without further ado here they are.

1.  Going to Tasmania to spend time with my Best Pam.  We have been friends since we were 10.  That’s a long time!  We know each other probably better than we know ourselves.  Best Pam managed to find play dates for both her beautiful children and we managed to wander along Salamanca Market and indulge in a leisurely lunch with wine… with no children.

2. Having the chance to be there as best Pam took her baby girl to her first day of kinder… I can still remember the day that little one was born, and now she is a kinder girl! How did that happen? Being there to see this milestone was an honour.

3. Coming home from Tassie and seeing my own beautiful kids waiting to hug me as I walked in the door.

So, what has made you happy this past week?

Tags: hump day, it takes a village, school

Running

I have taken up running again after a long break. I had been thinking about it for a while, when Emily from emlykd the strange asked on Twitter if anyone wanted to do the Mothers Day Classic with her.  It was the perfect opportunity to start running, it gave me a goal to work towards, and some much needed motivation.

I stopped running after I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis.  My then specialist warned me that running would impact a lot on my knee joints and I’d end up having major knee surgery.  I tried water aerobics, bike riding, pilates… but I didn’t like any of them very much and I didn’t stick at them.

I have been on medication for years, taking it daily. I’ve only ever had fluid on a knee once.  Even when I fell through rotten decking and tore ligaments and had deep bruising my knees survived intact.  I put it down to early diagnosis and constant medication.   I’m not running for miles and miles, I’m not running on sealed roads, having the luxury of softer dirt roads and well worn gravel paths near our home.

I used to be a good runner and sprinter.  There’s something about running as fast as you can for 100 metres –  it seamed like the world had stopped, it was just me, looking straight ahead, breath seemingly held, all instinct.

I loved cross country running too, running rain, hail or shine, getting into a steady rhythm, lost in thoughts with the steady movement of feet on ground.

So, after what seems like an age, I am running again, slowly at first, building up strength and endurance.  Spending time on my own, in my head, finding my breath and my rhythm once more. I am loving it again, and miss it when I don’t get a chance to run for a few days.

For me running is freedom… it’s as close as I get to flight, really it is my flight.  So thank you Emily, you have helped me get back to something I love.

Tags: running

We Remember

One year ago today, February 7th 2009,  Victoria was devastated by bush fires.

Black Saturday.

173 people died.  Men, women, children.
Over 2,000 homes were destroyed.
More than 5000 professional and volunteer fire fighters fought the blazes.
Over a month 450,000ha of land was destroyed.
Small towns were all but lost.
The words Kinglake and Marysville on everyones lips.

I cannot begin to describe the grief so many people felt, still feel.

I can not begin to describe the mood of Victoria as people returned to work on the Monday. A quiet sense of loss, shock, overwhelming sadness is the best I can do.  But is doesn’t come close.

The human spirit shone in the days after, an outpouring of support – financially, emotionally, physically.  This support was nation wide – it was the start of the healing process, visible to all.

The bush is recovering, green growth covering blackened trees and ground.  One year on we have continued on with  life, but many are still beginning again, rebuilding homes and lives.

One year on we remember.

Megan at Writing out Loud has also blogged about this day, you can read that here.

Tags: Black Saturday

My School – My opinion

Last week the Australian Government launched their new My School site.  The Government stated it will give parents and carers  information on their child’s school, as well as help parents and carers make decisions about which school to choose.  The results that have been published on this site for each public school are linked to NAPLAN testing.  This testing is carried out in grades 3, 5, 7 and 9 looking at the areas of literacy and maths.

My eldest child has taken part in this testing.  My youngest will do so this year.  Before I continue I need to point out I am a teacher.  I have taught from Kinder to grade 2, as well as taking on a role as a reading recovery teacher, and a role working with children on social skills.   My children attend a local government school. They have previously attended a private school.

While I understand parents want to arm themselves with as much information as possible when choosing schools for their children, I have a number of concerns about the way the information has been presented on the My School site.

The site shows each schools NAPLAN test results – so in essence the information in the site relates to literacy and numeracy.  In both primary and high school it relates to only two grade groups.  The results are from tests.  Tests in themselves hold a range of problems.  Testing is not always the best way to determine a child’s ability.

Tests are done in an artificial environment – some children work well to a test, others do not. Some children cope well with the stress of the relatively unknown situation, others do not.  Testing like this does not take into account factors such as (for example) whether or not a child has had a late night, is feeling unwell, has had a change in home circumstances that may be adding to anxiety levels. Tests such as this do not cater well for children that learn best through seeing and hearing someone explain a topic, or for children that will understand a question best through a hands on approach.  Tests such as this do not take into consideration multiple intelligences – that is the different ways people work to demonstrate their knowledge.  For example, some people do well with a written explanation, others do best visually, with diagrams or maps, others do best using concrete materials to solve a problem.

Testing such as this is only a small part of each child’s make up.  It is only a small part of each schools make up.  NAPLAN testing, and therefore the My School site take into consideration these literacy and numeracy results only.  Schools, however, are so much more than this.  Where in this comparison is any reference to The Arts? To Sports? To the way children with additional needs are catered for? Where is the reference to the way the school involves the community through shared partnerships, through the way families are (or are not) welcomed into the school.  Where is the reference to how staff work together? Where does this site show the way a range of cultures, including our own Indigenous cultures are catered for in a real, ongoing rather than tokenistic manner? The site does not reference how much professional development staff at the school participate in each year. Nor does it make reference to whether staff are aware of current policy, research and practice methods.  It does not indicate how behaviour problems are managed.  There is no reference to a change in school leadership, as new senior staff and principals can change the way a school operates.

All these factors, and more, go into making a school.  While literacy and numeracy are vital, so is knowing your child is respected, and that your child’s voice will be heard with in the school.

So, what am I saying in all this?  It would seem to me that the My School site smacks of tokenism.  It has simplified each school to a test score. It does not give a holistic picture of a school – no website ever could.  Schools by their very nature are complex, dynamic, ever changing places. Some schools have a wealth of resources at their fingertips.  Others do not.    Schools are not the sum result of a national testing scheme, and that is what bothers me about this site.

So, while I have looked at the site, and at the results of the school my children attend, I will be looking at these results in the broader picture of the school as a whole.  Taking into consideration local factors, and local knowledge.  I would urge everyone else to do the same.  Because it takes a village to raise a child, not a test result, or a web site.

Tags: children, it takes a village, my school website, NAPLAN, parenting, school

I have been bitten by the fox with his sharp sharp teeth, he has left a mark on my shoulder.

Well dear readers, (if there are any of you left) I have once again been neglectful of my little blog. Work began again this week, and I have been busy setting up, being at a conference, meeting and greeting new families, and doing paper work. Thrilling. I know.

I have also been rather absent from Twitter (insert small sob here) and from blog reading (insert pitiful sob here.)

It has, however been an interesting week none the less.  It was the week I got tattooed.  Yes, that’s right tattooed. I have been wanting a tattoo for a long, long time.  Once, some years ago I even made an appointment to have one done, but the tattooist in question looked at what I wanted and said ‘no, can’t do that, the line work is too fine.’ Well, you can imagine the confidence that inspired in me.  I cancelled the appointment.

Since then I have continued the search for the perfect image, and the perfect tattoo artist.  My search ended last week when I came across a web site. I rang, they said  just drop in anytime to discuss what I wanted, so I did, but the artist in question was busy.  It was a little confronting walking in to a shop front and seeing 2 people being tattooed right in front of me.  I wasn’t sure where to look.   I made a time to come back and discuss my ideas with my chosen artist – for artists these people truly are.

I returned two days later and discussed what I wanted with Ryan, my chosen tattooist.  He went away, drew it up and showed me… I beamed! It was perfect. So, as I waited for him to set up I signed the paperwork. A man about my age and his partner were there too, he was choosing his design, and another younger man was being tattooed as well. He had 2 hours to still go and  he had been there at least an hour already… so, I thought to my self, how much can it hurt really.  I was to be tattooed in the shop front, with people walking past me on Smith Street Collingwood looking in. People came in and out, chatting to various artists, showing what they wanted, where they wanted it… one bloke even dropping trousers… meanwhile, I’m standing there with one singlet top strap and one bra strap tucked under my arm, shoulder bared having the transfer applied.  No one batted an eye lid at any of this. It was refreshing actually, people of all ages, shapes and sizes, baring skin, baring body, without judgement, without fear.   I checked placement in a double mirror, and then it started.

The buzzing noise was close to my ear.  There was light pressure, a small scratching sting… this is Ok I thought… easy.  Fool.  The second part was right on my shoulder blade. I had heard people say that being tattooed close to bone can hurt.  They are right.  But it was a controlled pain, of my own choosing.  After about 45 minutes I was done.  My tattoos were covered in plastic wrap and I was ready to go home.  A marked woman.  I love my tattoo, and am already planning to add to this one, or get another one.

For me, being tattooed was very personal.  What you choose to have put on your body, and where you have it, it is very personal.  A friend said I will regret having it done.  But I don’t, and I wont.  Someone also said I may regret it when I’m 90.  But I wont. If I’m 90 I’ll be happy to still be kicking and I’ll be able to say that I made choices about my body for me. And at the end of the day, it’s me who has to like it!

Note – the title of this post is what I wrote as my status on facebook when I arrived home from having the tattoo done.  It is also a hint at the name of the place I was tattooed.

Tags: blog, never say never, tattoo, twitter

Community

There have been reports recently in the media about Twitter and what a waste of space it is.  Comments such as ‘who wants to know what you had for breakfast or that you missed you bus’. Well, I for one do.  Because along with knowing what someone had for breakfast, I may also know that they are having a tough time, that they are lonely, or that the school holidays are driving them batty and they need a bit of light relief.

You see, Twitter is much more than an endless stream of mindless 140 character or less updates.  It is a community. A community I fell very lucky to be a part of. When I signed up for Twitter I had no idea what to expect.  I thought at the very least I could vent about the little things that annoy me throughout the day, of which there are many,  and that I may perhaps get a bit of traffic to my blog.

What I didn’t expect was a caring community of people, connected by a little blue bird. Tweeting that you are having a bad day will bring caring responses, jokes to make you smile, suggestions of chocolate, or wine, or both.

This past week has been no exception.  I have seen an amazing outpouring of support and love that has brought me to tears, and in this, I know I am not alone.  Tweeps have moved states, had worrying or disappointing news, children have broken bones, been unfairly criticised, and one dear Twitter friend undergoing chemotherapy has been in a coma.

I have stuck close by my blue feathered friend this week for updates, and to be able to offer words of encouragement, strength and support.  I have witnessed a group of people offer support to a relative stranger as they flew from one side of the world to another to be close by a loved one in ICU.  I have seen an outpouring of love, positive thoughts and strength for our tweep in ICU… I have read suggestions to get her beloved pets, who were pining,  to eat…. and read how the moment she woke, the dog left her bed at home, and ate and drank.

Without Twitter I would know none of this, and I think my life would be a little poorer for it.  A few of my tweeps I have met in real life, some of them have been my friends since before we all had computers in our homes, and phones were things in your house, not your handbag.  Some people may scoff at this, suggesting these cyber friends are not friends at all.  Some may observe that online social networks such as this are for the socially isolated.  Well, I have real life friends that I see, and hug, and laugh with… but I also have on line friends that I see through blogs, and chats of 140 characters… and if even one of these people is on the margins of society, and is now connected through the online community, making an effort to connect with other people, then I say good.

So thank you Twitter, and thank you my lovely tweeps.

Tags: twitter

Confessions – 10 things I don’t have the guts to do.

I have been tagged by Ami at Puff Pieces and Megan at Writing Out loud for this.  Some things came to mind straight away, others took a bit of time to think of.  So, without further ado, here are 10 things that I don’t have the guts to do…. or don’t want to do!

1.  Eat sushi.  I just don’t like it, I just don’t want to.  I don’t care how good for me it is, or how much everyone is eating it… even my son,  it will not pass my lips.  Ever.

2. Hook turns.  I live in Melbourne.  I drive in the city, easy. But, if I come to an intersection and want to turn onto a road, and I need to do a hook turn I will keep driving through the intersection… I just won’t do one… I don’t get them.

3.  Snorkel or scuba dive.  It scares me.  It really does.

4.  Eat seafood. At all. I hear you all cry WHAT! But ick.  I ate a mussel once, I tried a prawn once.  No thank you.

5.  Get my tongue pierced.  I love the way it looks, but I’m just too chicken!

6.  Not colour my hair.  I know one day I will need to stop… but I don’t want to think about it.

7.  Deal with finances.  Maths is not my strong point. I used to budget, sort bills etc… but now I leave it all to Hubby.  I don’t like to deal with it.

8.  Confrontation.  I hate to have to deal with uncomfortable situations.  I hate to have to confront people about anything, mainly if it is going to cause someone to be upset.

9.  Deal with spiders. I have run through a house screaming and taking off clothes when I thought a spider was on me.  I have got neighbours to get them out of the house.  I wake Hubby in the middle of the night and point to minute ones on our double height ceiling and then make him get them so I can go back to sleep.

10.  Leave the house without doing my hair.  But really, this is a community service.  No one needs to witness that, even in a hippy hills community!

So, there are my ten, and now I get to tag some more people – and they are…

Thea –  Do I really Wanna Blog?

Taryn – Taryn Rucci

Emily  - emlykd the strange

Jodie – Mummy Mayhem

Jade  - She is Jade

Carly –  Everyone Wants This

Brenda – Mummy Time