NaNo-ventures

{{Deep breath}} Okay, my fellow NaNo-ers and lovely PNN friends, as this is my first time really writing fiction, I decided to follow JennyAppleseed's lead and let you see a bit of my NaNo-venture.  I would love to hear your constructive criticism - what works so far, what doesn't, what you want to read next, do you like the main character so far?  (Please note: this has NOT been edited so expect grammatical errors, typos, etc. which I will address later).

We’ve all had them.  Moments where we start to rethink our place in life.  I wouldn’t call it regret…more like doubt.  Did I head in the right direction when I'd stumbled upon a choice between two totally divergent paths?  Of course this is precisely what I was thinking about moments before I was shot.

By all accounts, I shouldn’t be alive any longer.  The gun used on me was one normally saved for large game.  But, as often happens in life, people use what they’ve got.  What this guy had was a large caliber hunting rifle, usually reserved for taking down rhino or elephant.  Me? I’m just about 100lbs soaking wet, so overkill is an understatement.

Lucky for me, I wasn’t alone…though my luck turned out to be the downfall of others. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to let go of that.

The shift nurse, Abby, walks in with a silly grin on her face, “You’ve got a gorgeous visitor coming up...do you want help sorting yourself out?” 

“Um, yeah, wait, no, I’m in hospital for chrissakes, I can’t be worried about make up!”

“Really? Alright…”

“Well, okay, just pass me my handbag, I’ll put on some lip balm”, I sigh.

Moments later as Abby finishes fussing around with my annoying IV drip line, I hear the crisp footfall of men’s dress shoes stop outside the room.  Abby straightens up and squeaks a quick goodbye as the door opens.

It was then that I knew exactly where I wanted to be…and, sadly, it was no where near here. 

No doubt about it, the man was good looking.  I’d fantasized about men like him most of my life.  Tall and masculine without being too butch or too pretty;  he’s just so totally pleasant to look at with his dark wavy hair and light eyes, slightly crooked smile and straight, but prominent nose.  Devon had a way about him that just made you smile when you saw him.  And believe me - he used this gift to its full advantage. 

Swinging through the door, his shoes allowed him to almost slide into the room as if on ice.  He turned to wink at Abby as she slipped by out the door, before turning his full attention to me. 

“K, sweetheart, I hope you’re up to having a visitor?” he asks without a hint of uncertainty about what my answer might be.

Before I could help myself, I felt the corners of my mouth lift in a mirrored smirk.  I wondered how I was going to face the conversation ahead, but realized I truly didn’t have the energy to fight his beguiling energy.

“You know I’ve always got time to chat with a good looking guy,” I say skipping a beat, “have you brought someone with you?”

Devon pulls a straight-backed, thinly padded hospital chair over to my bedside, “Oh darling, don’t beat me up, I’ve practically taken the whole day off to come and entertain your decadent little bed-ridden body!”

The problem is, despite whatever witty repartee we might be able to easily indulge, we both know that there are serious issues ahead and neither of us has been particularly keen to confront them before now.

It’s quite surprising to me, to be truthful, since even growing up I was a practical little girl who liked to get serious talks out into the open – much to the chagrin of my childhood friends.  Let’s face it, no one really wants to have deep discussions at all hours of a slumber party when you could be talking about your fantasy life with the latest Tiger Beat cover star or playing M-A-S-H to find out your future home life with the swish, swish of a bit of folded paper.  No, I wasn’t the most popular girl for my proclivity to discuss matters of a metaphysical or ethical or philosophical bent.

But as I grew up, and finally moved past my irrational fear of talking to boys, I had discovered quickly that “boys” whether they are truly youthful or just emotionally stunted, did NOT like to have serious discussions about personal issues.  I can’t say for sure if this was the reason I’d had such a hard time hanging on to a guys for longer than the blink of an eye, but I can’t deny that it might’ve played a major part.

Stop Killing My Koalas!

I don’t want to freak you out, but you’re killing my koalas.  No, seriously!  Okay, they may not be mine per se, but they’re mere inches away from dying off and it pains me just as much as if they were my personal pets.  The problem is I suspect you didn't even know you were leading them to their demise…but you are. And we are all responsible.

As part of Blog Action Day www.blogactionday.org I wanted to highlight the plight of the other animals who share our Earth - those that are being driven to extinction by climate change.

Global warming has far reaching and potentially catastrophic effects on many of the beautiful and unique animals all over the planet.  Would you be surprised to know that climate change is playing a major role in our farewell to polar bears, gray whales, hundreds of species of frogs, arctic foxes, walrus, many types of bird and more?  In fact, among the list of animals affected on The Top 100 Effects of Global Warming is the Aldabra banded snail.  This snail is now extinct, dying out as global warming caused a significant decrease in the rainfall in its habitat.

The fact is that we have the power to make changes in our daily lives that can directly impact the course we’ve taken.  If you’d like more ideas on what you can do to lessen your own carbon footprint, take a look at this great list by David Biello from Scientific American.

Because at the end of the day, do you really want to be responsible for the demise of such a cute and cuddly (looking) creature? 

Aussie Travel Log Entry #2

Soon enough we’re off the plane, making our way with twitchy boys through immigration, baggage claim and customs.  We strap the little one, without cooperation, into the stroller and make our way out to collect the hire car.  Do you know that strange feeling you can sometimes get as you balance precariously between waking and dreaming?  Well, that sort of how this felt as we wandered around Brisbane airport. 

I’d been back to Australia two years ago, just me with the little one when he was only 3 months old.  That trip was less a holiday and more business as I was there to organize the sale of our flat in Sydney.  Plus, travel with a breastfeeding baby is, ironically, about a million times easier than traveling with one that can walk, talk (back) and run like a maniac through security areas.  This time, we were back as a family and that punchy feeling from sleep deprivation gave me an added unreal fog. 

Once we got the keys and grabbed coffee (when in Oz, I highly recommend getting a flat white – like a latte, but less milk and no foam), its all beginning to sink in.  Of course, this corresponds with the boys melting down.  But we’re on the road, GPS directing us to an apartment 30 minutes north of Brisbane - offered to us for free by a very generous previous employer.  It’s drizzling…and I couldn’t care one little bit!

Simply driving along the motorway brings a flood of memories as my hubby and I had enjoyed many road trips along the Bruce Highway in the five years we'd lived in Oz.  Roundabouts, wide roads and a surprising mix of eucalyptus and evergreen trees seem to greet us as we feel ourselves slowly relax.  We arrive at the apartment – beach front and modern - unloading the boys and luggage as swiftly as possible. 

Our hosts are running a dive resort in Papua New Guinea and have let us stay in their apartment…their entirely adult apartment.  An amazing number of glass windows, glass doors, glass side tables and attractive décor gathered from Asia, Africa and the Pacific Islands fill the sleek, but warm home.  I’m freaking out…how can I possibly protect everything?!?!  I resign myself to the thought that our budget will just have to include replacements of home wares and try to settle in as best as possible.

The view from the Redcliffe apartment: straight out over the Pacific, fringed with evergreen trees, bordered by a walking path and a short beach filled with tumbled stones and a variety of sun-bleached shells.  Even when the sun isn’t shining, this is such a calming sight.  Having grown up on the coast of Southern California, I have a connection with the ocean and the smell of the sea is tantamount to smelling mum’s famous homemade chili…it makes me feel like I’m home.

We made sure to hit the local shops to fill the cupboards – equal parts familiar items for the boys and reuniting with Australian staples that you don’t realize you’ve missed until you see them again.  Thinking back now, the rest of the day went by with the four of us in a daze, but we tried to stay up for as long as possible to adjust to the new time zone.  Sadly, the boys still woke at 3.30am, but with a bribe of warm chocolate milk, things remained calm until the sun began to rise.  The plus is that, being on the east coast of Australia, we got to experience more lovely sunrises than we’re likely to see again for a long, long while!

For me, the next few days were all about trying my best to find balance.  On the one hand, I want us all to enjoy a proper holiday, but on the other, I am constantly on alert trying to protect our host’s belongings and preserve (or reinstate) our boy’s routine.  Any mum with active kids will know routine can be the key to sanity – for parent as well as child.  Trying to keep to the normal rules from home is challenging, but it felt necessary for me.  This meant trying to stick to normal nap times, hold firm to reasons for time outs and even offering some of the same food.  Our biggest problem? At home the boys have their own rooms and on holiday they share.  Let the games begin…

I’ll finish this episode with our first mis-Adventure.

As with many adult-only homes, the carpet in this lovely apartment was on the lighter side…light as in spotless cream colored.  So we’re on our third day in Oz and still feeling frazzled, but resolute in our decision to follow through with normal discipline rules.  My oldest had been put into time out (god only knows why…running around banging on glass tables with sharp knives? Yeah, probably something like that).  He was crying all the way and still wailing 3-4 minutes later without stopping.  I decide that I’ll release him from the “horrible prison” that was the boys’ shared bedroom and, as I open the door, I am sprayed with blood.  And so was the carpet. The light and perfect cream colored carpet. 

Honestly, that boy took a walking tour of the room, maybe just to get full coverage. Or perhaps he’s a Pollack-in-training and he thought, “Hmm, red drips here – Yes, yes! And red drips HERE!”  Nah, the poor little guy was just freaked about the spontaneous burst blood vessel in his nose.  He, unfortunately, takes after me in this way and it’s happened before, but not in quite this spectacular fashion.

The bad news…well, the mess, obviously.  The good news (ding: silver lining)…I discovered a wonderful new concoction that can take yucky stains, wet or dry, out of carpet.  Of course, I ran around like crazy first, ringing carpet cleaning companies, wondering if I needed to ring the hosts in PNG, doing mad searches on the internet.  But, by the time we left, you couldn’t even tell.  Well, I could, but by then my eyes were as trained as a CSI black light.

Stay tuned for next time…when we introduce the boys to the local wild life!

Aussie Travel Log Entry #1

Traveling with children is like taking a crash-course in learning how to adapt.  And now that my family has taken our biggest trip to date, I have also found that somewhere along the road of life I’ve learned how important it is to truly search out that silver-lining with every dark cloud.

Our adventure is a full one and the story likely to take a while, so for your safety (and my sanity) I am breaking it up into episodes

The journey begins before take-off…

We started early on our drive to LA for the late night trans-Pacific flight.  Knowing that we’d be driving for hours, we figured it would be best if we got to LA early to enjoy some time at the beach and park to let the boys get some energy out.  The drive was pretty painless with the portable DVD player entertaining the boys with the 1,001^st viewing of Ice Age.  Stopped at a park near Santa Monica airport – if you have boys there is no better combination than a park with airplanes flying overhead.   A short (and surprisingly sweaty) trip to the beach, a quick snack of unexpectedly delicious gourmet sandwiches at a small bistro just off the promenade and we made our way to the airport.

Excitement tends to lend a bit of a buffer to any hassle at the start of a trip.  We eventually found long term parking, caught the shuttle and managed to lug our bags and jumpy children into LAX.  The anti-climax comes once we get through security and realize that we still have 2 hours before the flight leaves. 

Here we get our first lesson in distraction.  Food – yes, that’s a good one…and chicken nuggets are always a winner.  So we got the boys set up with their chicken, French fries and chocolate milk at a lovely (read: tiny) table surrounded by other weary travelers.  The boys were definitely distracted, so much so, that one of them manages to spill their milk all over our table. In a spectacular feat, the milk splatters over our bags and finds its way to the leg of a woman at the next table.  Her pants were white, her accent French, her demeanor less than pleasant.  Good start!  In our defense, we offered napkins, we offered wipes, we offered Tide-to-Go. But like Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada, she gave us an effective, dismissive head shake and a look that said, “You can’t make up for your unruly child’s horrible faux pas, so don’t try”. 

Cool, so we have only WHAT 1 ½ hours until the plane departs?!?!  But really, we did the tag team bit – one parent takes one child, then switch, walking round the departure gates as if we’re on our own private carousel, multiple trips to the potty and, finally, a hit of Benadryl.  I’m sure the fact that Milo was screaming his way down the gangway didn’t provide other passengers with much confidence.  Thankfully, once we got settled into our seats and with only a bare minimum of tussling between the boys, the plane took off and the boys fell asleep. 

An interesting discovery: I found out that Milo is a fitful sleeper (like a sleeping dog running away from his dream-enemy) so I spent the time he slept keeping a hand on him so that he wouldn’t fling himself to the floor.  The best part about this flight (13 hours) is that its night time schedule means that it fits within our natural circadian rhythm and the boys were able to sleep for over half of the time.  Suffice to say, we survived the second half of the flight – I won’t tell you how, other than to say Qantas is great to have seat-back TV screens with Wiggles and Dora on demand.

Excitement builds again as the wheels hit the ground on Aussie soil and as we peer out the windows of the 747, we can see the sun coming up on a lovely Brisbane morning…

My new natural high...

My heart is beating a little bit faster than usual.  I feel a bit euphoric – singing pop songs with my kids at the tops of my lungs, smiling more, generally feeling cheery…and even a little bit giddy.  Let’s face it - I’m on a bit of a high!  The best part is that this is an all natural feeling; it’s one that I get when I’ve made a new friend.

Many women quickly discover once they’ve had their first child that time with friends often gets cut back dramatically.  Where before you may have been able to meet up for a casual lunch or dinner or a night of drinks and dancing at least once or twice a week, the demands of a newborn mean that those breaks take a back seat to the hectic schedule of a baby who eats, sleeps and poops…a lot!  And unfortunately, friendships can suffer.

I was recently reminded of the struggle that many of us go through with making and maintaining friendships as adults when talking to a great friend who is struggling with this right now.  My gorgeous friend had recently moved across country, away from all her friends and family, and almost immediately gave birth to her second son. 

She was just getting the feel for the new suburb they’d moved to – working out where all of the necessities are: grocery, café, parks, etc.  A fantastic benefit of living in Oz is that there are government sponsored wellness centers that organize groups for new or relocated mums.  She joined the local mum’s group just a few weeks before her second son arrived. 

Luckily, one of the things that could have negatively affected your older friendships can actually help you to form new ones!  As my friend in Oz did, meeting up with other new mums can be a wonderful outlet and opportunity to create lasting friendships.  The fact that these other ladies are going through similar experiences can help form en empathetic connection immediately.  Playgrounds are also a place where casual conversations are easily started – especially when the little ones compel introductions when they “make friends” with one another as they play together. 

And this is exactly the type of situation that got me feeling so fired up today. 

I’d taken my boys to a purpose built water fountain pad just off The Strip, the sun was beating down and temps were over 105°.  This particular play area is one of the best free spots in the area –surrounded by high-end shops and restaurants – and includes a mini-stage with curtains, multiple playhouses, a tree house, merry-go-round, slides and a full hedge maze. So, as my boys began to streak across the water pad, I sat down on a bench next to another mum trying to avoid the sprays of water coming from the bigger kid’s karate chopping the water as hard as they could.  Just as a particularly large splash landed on our laps, we glanced at each other and I said, “Well, so much for sitting on the sidelines to stay dry, huh?” and that was that.

Will our friendship progress past a few shared text messages and a playground meet up or two?  Who knows…and, really, I don’t mind.  The rush I get from the potential friendship and the first blush of finding someone who seems as interested in hearing my stories as I am to hear hers will get me through a lot. 

Egg on my face...

Idiot Move of the Day #4035

Never try to ensure your hard boiled egg is "really" cooked by popping it into the microwave for an extra 6 minutes.

This morning my husband left me with one lonely little egg after he made brekkie for himself while I dropped the oldest at school.  Having decided that I was really serious (again) about losing those last 10 lbs, I thought I would hard boil that last little egg for my own brekkie. 

I put it on the stove in a little pot and let it boil for 10+ minutes. Then I left it to rest for a minute or two.  When I laddled it out of the pot, I gave it a little shake and thought I heard the yolk moving around a bit. I do NOT like soft boiled egg, the runny yolk makes me squeamish.

So I thought to myself, "Hey, why not use the microwave to make sure it has a perfectly hard center!"  I proceeded to place said mostly-boiled egg into a micro safe bowl filled with hot water.  I popped it in, hit Express Cook 6 and happily turned to read some more blogs. 

Suddenly, the door EXPLODED open and watery egg bits came flying out in every direction.  Hmmm, clean up was challenging and entailed the use of toothpicks, paper towels, wet wipes and a two-handed "Stay back, stay back" mantra to keep my toddler out of the mess.

Apparently, this might not have happened if I'd put a pin into the side of the egg before causing it to go nuclear.

So, there it is, I will continue to practice idiot manuevers so that you don't have to!

I'm still hungry...

The wisdom of a preschooler

Parenting is hard.

No doubt about it, it is just plain hard some days.

But then there are the moments. You know, the moments that seemingly erase all the other struggles you might be going through.  In fact, they can be many and you can learn to not only spot them, but actually create these moments several times throughout the day.

Many times, the difference between struggle with a child and unadulterated fun with a child lay on a very thin and flimsy line.  And the difference comes down to realizing the way children experience the world…before life’s trials teach them to reminisce about the past or look to the future for their happiness.

Live for the moment.

It is said all the time, but truly good advice bears repeating. When we stop thinking about what we need to do, what we forgot to do, what we think we should do, what we did yesterday and what we’ll do tomorrow, we might give ourselves a chance to enjoy what is going on right now.  And this is the secret to creating more magical moments with your children.

Rather than always living our lives to a regimented schedule, ticking things off a list until we fall down into bed exhausted at the end of the day, we need to allow ourselves to veer outside of the lines for an inch or two.  Get involved in the activity your child is doing, help them piece together a puzzle, ask for their advice about something you’ve been planning for the household (and actually listen!), or just give them a hug, a tickle and an authentic ear-to-ear grin.  By giving yourself permission to live in the present with your child, you are also telling them that you see THEM and not just another cog in the wheel that is either turning easily or making your life more difficult.

Think of it as a way to take an adult sort of time out – except this time you’re doing it to share and grow through love and laughter.

It may seem miraculous, but as you continue to consciously take the time to enjoy your child(ren) several times a day, these moments will increase on their own – a sweet smile, an unexpected hug, a silly story about their imaginary friend, Walter.  You will find yourself recounting more happy times at the end of the day, rather than feeling relief that you simply survived.

And, that is what raising young children should feel like.

Words to live by...

There are words with which I think I might just like to have a passionate affair. Some of them are words I have used in my posts and others are those that you have used when commenting on something I’ve written…

Synchronicity. Serendipity. Clarity. Compassion.

But one of my all time favourite words and, therefore, one that seems to have entwined itself throughout my life like a beautifully fragrant creeping jasmine…

Authenticity.

Having read so many heartfelt posts by so many eloquent and insightful writers here, I felt compelled to pass along a website that I came to unexpectedly (ohhh, one of my favourite words in action!)  I think that so many of us are reaching out, testing the boundaries, sharing and supporting each other - all in a sort of organic movement that I’d not actually identified. 

Then I came upon a beautiful blog, though it is much more than that.  It exemplifies all sorts of things that I have been struggling with in my life and, I suspect, things that many of you have struggled with as well.

I don’t want to water down or merely reiterate anything that she has written herself, so I have chosen to simply post the pledge and a link to the site.