sun 3.10.2010
My kids have not got sunburned once on this trip. We have been travelling for three and a half weeks, been in the tropics and not a single red nose. Every time we were heading to an outdoor location, I was really good about making sure they had sunscreen lathered on them before they were touched by the biting rays of the outback sun. They weren't allowed out without hats, played in the shade and didn't swim in the middle of the day. But apart from all these careful measures, I realised there wasn't much chance they would burn anyway. They are covered in a fine layer of grime which gives them a physical barrier against burning. Each layer of sunscreen would then attract a new layer of dirt. Two things have made this possible. One is that my kids get dirty the minute they walk out the door. They play with sticks, rocks and dirt and play games like "restaurant" which involves making leaves into "food," bark into bowls and making us pretend to eat it. The other - and most significant - is that I haven't washed them much. I know I mentioned previously that it was essential for a woman to at least wash her face every day, but I've found it very difficult to organise four kids at all this trip, let alone four wet and soapy kids. At home J.T. showers the kids. When we used to bath them I found it too hard on my back and now we are on tank water and they have showers he has kept it up. I say it's so J.T has some special bonding time with them, but it's really because I can't stand the constant bickering for who's turn it is in the water, screams when water goes in someone's eye, someone yelling half-way through that they need to go to the toilet even though they went 5 minutes ago. Now combine that with a campground shower 1mx1m and it gets plain crazy. I like to think it really doesn't hurt them and that the layer gives them a fake tan without the chemicals, but I will be happy to get home to our own shower where J.T can make them sparkly clean every day.
Monday, October 4, 2010
and the sky went BANG!
fri 1.10.2010
What is it with me and storms? I used to love storms as a kid and into my teens, but now I'm not so keen. I remember standing on my back verandah where I grew up and watching the storm roll towards us and laughing into the wind as the lightning struck closer and closer. It looked like I was going to be one of those crazy storm chasers, but then a few things happened to change that. I'm not sure if it had anything to do with having kids, but the first storm I remember being really scared in was at our house in the Southern Highlands of NSW. H was probably under two years old and E was only a tiny baby asleep in her bassinet. I was suffering pretty severe post natal depression and didn't do much more than the basics for the two little girls in those few months. But as the rain pelted down and hail smashed into the windows and the wind howled through the cracks (of which there were many), I ran into the bedroom and grabbed E from her bed (which was a big deal, because my babies don't sleep so it would have been a very rare moment of peace) dragged H to the middle of the house and huddled down with them. My main concern was the two huge gum trees in our front yard which overhung the two bedrooms at the front and always looked like they were threatening to fall on us. "They" tell you to keep away from windows when there is a severe storm, but our house was so tiny, that there really wasn't anywhere away from windows. I fed E and she fell back asleep in my arms. It felt like hours, but was probably only 10-15 mins at the most when things finally settled down. I left the girls inside and went to look at the damage. All down our road trees were down. Huge trees were ripped up roots and all. Everything was lying parallel to the road, so nobody's house was damaged by trees, but there was lots of houses which were flooded and all the powerlines were down. I helped some neighbours move heavy branches from their driveways and took some photos of the water rushing down the street. The road was closed and J.T. had to convince a police officer to let him ride his motorbike down to our house as he got home from work, by promising her he would jump any trees or powerlines! We had some trees come down from our neighbours house over our fence, but there wasn't much damage at all. The storm was on the news and was called a "mini-hurricane." It had only affected our street. The streets around had got a bit of rain, but nothing else. There was no damage on any other street in the suburb.
So, why is this relevant? When we were in Darwin we had a big storm. I know, I know, it's Darwin and they always have big storms, but it was loud and it was rainy and windy and I now have four girls to protect and we were in our flimsy little camper. There were people running around hammering in tent pegs and men looking out their caravan and camper windows and doors, staring nervously at the trees and making sure their chairs weren't blowing away. H was crying (E was asleep, so were C and M) and J.T claimed there was nothing to worry about. I looked up the bureau of meteorology site to check out the radar and saw there was a lot of heavy rain. Well, derr. It eventually passed, H went back to sleep and I lay in bed not able to sleep. Skip to about a week later and we are in Mataranka. That evening as we head to bed we could see clouds on the horizon being lit by flashes of lightning. They were small, fluffy clouds a long way away, so I wasn't too concerned and remembered how I used to love lightning. At about 10.30pm we were all in bed with with all the windows down and it started getting very windy. For the next two hours we were pummelled by wind, rain, thunder and lightning. At one stage the wind died down a bit and there was no more sheet lightning. We hadn't yet got any rain. J.T said, "the wind's stopping I think the front has passed." Then the rain hit. I sent J.T to check H - who was awake and crying quietly to herself - and I huddled under the doona. M was beside me and kept feeding as she was awoken by the noise. I was a mess. I tried to take deep breaths, I tried to tell myself that storms like this happen every day and people don't generally die, but I found it hard not to sob out loud and thought I was going to vomit. I was petrified. J.T insisted we would be knocked around less if we kept the windows down and only close the ones that were letting in rain through the fly screens, but it felt like there was nothing between us and the full force of the storm. Which really there wasn't! I couldn't even check the radar, as we didn't have phone reception and that usually gives me a bit of hope when I can see there is an end in sight. I eventually got up the courage to kneel on the bed and close all the zippers around us, so I couldn't see and feel so much and that made it a lot easier to cope with. J.T was still with H, so I assumed if I was going to die, I would have to try and protect M. Of course J.T. had fallen asleep lying next to H and had no concerns about dying in a ferocious storm. Eventually, it passed. We all survived. I assumed I was just a big baby and that it had been a mild storm with nothing to worry about. When I stepped outside the next morning I saw that we had been very lucky. We were parked under a big gum tree and it had dropped small branches and leaves, but trees around us had dropped massive branches which would have squished our camper and us. I spoke to the owner of the park and she said that they don't normally get storms until about November or December and not usually that big. She also said she wouldn't have liked to have been camping in it. Well, thanks, neither did I. If I ever own a caravan park and there's a big storm, I'll make sure everyone gets to safety and shelters in our specially made storm bunker. I'll have to get J.T. to organise that though, because I'll be in the bunker, hiding under my doona.
What is it with me and storms? I used to love storms as a kid and into my teens, but now I'm not so keen. I remember standing on my back verandah where I grew up and watching the storm roll towards us and laughing into the wind as the lightning struck closer and closer. It looked like I was going to be one of those crazy storm chasers, but then a few things happened to change that. I'm not sure if it had anything to do with having kids, but the first storm I remember being really scared in was at our house in the Southern Highlands of NSW. H was probably under two years old and E was only a tiny baby asleep in her bassinet. I was suffering pretty severe post natal depression and didn't do much more than the basics for the two little girls in those few months. But as the rain pelted down and hail smashed into the windows and the wind howled through the cracks (of which there were many), I ran into the bedroom and grabbed E from her bed (which was a big deal, because my babies don't sleep so it would have been a very rare moment of peace) dragged H to the middle of the house and huddled down with them. My main concern was the two huge gum trees in our front yard which overhung the two bedrooms at the front and always looked like they were threatening to fall on us. "They" tell you to keep away from windows when there is a severe storm, but our house was so tiny, that there really wasn't anywhere away from windows. I fed E and she fell back asleep in my arms. It felt like hours, but was probably only 10-15 mins at the most when things finally settled down. I left the girls inside and went to look at the damage. All down our road trees were down. Huge trees were ripped up roots and all. Everything was lying parallel to the road, so nobody's house was damaged by trees, but there was lots of houses which were flooded and all the powerlines were down. I helped some neighbours move heavy branches from their driveways and took some photos of the water rushing down the street. The road was closed and J.T. had to convince a police officer to let him ride his motorbike down to our house as he got home from work, by promising her he would jump any trees or powerlines! We had some trees come down from our neighbours house over our fence, but there wasn't much damage at all. The storm was on the news and was called a "mini-hurricane." It had only affected our street. The streets around had got a bit of rain, but nothing else. There was no damage on any other street in the suburb.
So, why is this relevant? When we were in Darwin we had a big storm. I know, I know, it's Darwin and they always have big storms, but it was loud and it was rainy and windy and I now have four girls to protect and we were in our flimsy little camper. There were people running around hammering in tent pegs and men looking out their caravan and camper windows and doors, staring nervously at the trees and making sure their chairs weren't blowing away. H was crying (E was asleep, so were C and M) and J.T claimed there was nothing to worry about. I looked up the bureau of meteorology site to check out the radar and saw there was a lot of heavy rain. Well, derr. It eventually passed, H went back to sleep and I lay in bed not able to sleep. Skip to about a week later and we are in Mataranka. That evening as we head to bed we could see clouds on the horizon being lit by flashes of lightning. They were small, fluffy clouds a long way away, so I wasn't too concerned and remembered how I used to love lightning. At about 10.30pm we were all in bed with with all the windows down and it started getting very windy. For the next two hours we were pummelled by wind, rain, thunder and lightning. At one stage the wind died down a bit and there was no more sheet lightning. We hadn't yet got any rain. J.T said, "the wind's stopping I think the front has passed." Then the rain hit. I sent J.T to check H - who was awake and crying quietly to herself - and I huddled under the doona. M was beside me and kept feeding as she was awoken by the noise. I was a mess. I tried to take deep breaths, I tried to tell myself that storms like this happen every day and people don't generally die, but I found it hard not to sob out loud and thought I was going to vomit. I was petrified. J.T insisted we would be knocked around less if we kept the windows down and only close the ones that were letting in rain through the fly screens, but it felt like there was nothing between us and the full force of the storm. Which really there wasn't! I couldn't even check the radar, as we didn't have phone reception and that usually gives me a bit of hope when I can see there is an end in sight. I eventually got up the courage to kneel on the bed and close all the zippers around us, so I couldn't see and feel so much and that made it a lot easier to cope with. J.T was still with H, so I assumed if I was going to die, I would have to try and protect M. Of course J.T. had fallen asleep lying next to H and had no concerns about dying in a ferocious storm. Eventually, it passed. We all survived. I assumed I was just a big baby and that it had been a mild storm with nothing to worry about. When I stepped outside the next morning I saw that we had been very lucky. We were parked under a big gum tree and it had dropped small branches and leaves, but trees around us had dropped massive branches which would have squished our camper and us. I spoke to the owner of the park and she said that they don't normally get storms until about November or December and not usually that big. She also said she wouldn't have liked to have been camping in it. Well, thanks, neither did I. If I ever own a caravan park and there's a big storm, I'll make sure everyone gets to safety and shelters in our specially made storm bunker. I'll have to get J.T. to organise that though, because I'll be in the bunker, hiding under my doona.
and the camper went BANG!
sun 26.9.2010
We've had some camper issues. In Darwin we had problems when the camper kinda went BANG as J.T. was winding it up. For three hours, in the dark and humidity inside the collapsed camper J.T. worked on trying to fix it. Apparently some parts were used to rebuild the winch system which weren't quite strong enough, so he did a macgyver and replaced something with some other bits from somewhere. He got that sorted out and we stayed three wonderful, hot, sticky nights in Darwin. I loved it (except for the mozzies) but J.T. wasn't too keen. Anyway, eventually it was time to pack up and head to Kakadu. I had high hopes for Kakadu, but I knew J.T. wasn't too keen, so I kept quiet for the whole time we were planning the trip, in case he changed his mind about staying three nights. Luckily, he decided he liked what he saw. We arrived in Jabiru with high hopes for our stay there, paid for a site and parked ourselves near the pool and in quick walking distance to the amenities (did I mention we have four small children?) It was lovely and warm, but nowhere near as sticky as Darwin and I suggested the girls and I head to the pool area to check it out while J.T. set up the camper. As we lounged by the pool, me feeding M and H, E and C dangling their toes in the water, I called J.T. on the phone (because it was at least a 20 sec walk to talk to him in person) and said "How's it going?" and he said "Very, very bad. We've snapped a cable." "Well," I said "that sux."
Now, here I must explain something about J.T. Everything that goes wrong is a disaster. I'm not 100% sure if that's because it is, or he just over-reacts. The thing is that "stuff" that happens generally turns out ok, so I don't tend to panic when things don't go as planned. But it's hard to stay positive when the person who's diagnosing problems says it's most definitely the end of the world as you know it. What usually happens is that just as I think there's no hope that the car will ever go again/we'll never have a working dishwasher/we won't be able to afford mortgage repayments, J.T. suddenly says "I fixed it!" and I'm left with a stomach ulcer. So this is why I tried to stay calm and hope for the best.
I rang reception and explained our problem. They said to try the local servo, which also had a mechanical workshop attached and generally carried lots of hardware-type items. It was a saturday and the girl behind the counter at the servo said they would probably have it in the workshop, but they weren't open until monday. Great, thanks. We headed towards the Jabiru Industrial Area, but nothing was open. Just as we were driving out, we spied a 4wd coming out of one of the gates. I pulled up in front of him to block his path and put on my saddest I-have-nowhere-to-sleep-and-four-tired-children face and explained our predicament. He told us to follow him to the local abandoned car yard. He pointed us to a hole in the fence and J.T. climbed through. While he searched the car I fed M, tried to keep H, E and C hydrated, fed and quiet and then saw something in the grass. "J.T!" I called "There's a thingo here in the grass, covered in cable!" He came over and made some noises about "antenna tower mumble mumble worth a fortune mumble mumble grumble" and started to assess the cable for camper-worthiness. We asked our helpful tour guide - who had retired to his lodgings behind the yard - and he said to take whatever we could get, as it had been lying in the grass for years. He gave us directions to the local tip and said there was metal piled separately and we may be lucky and find something there. And that's how we found ourselves, in a few short hours from the poolside to the dump on our tropical holiday. We didn't end up finding anything at the tip, but on our way back to the caravan park we found another antenna tower on the side of the road and found even more salvageable cable. We got back to the campsite and J.T. commenced work. He eventually fixed it. The kids were lying on the ground outside and I had managed to cook them some dinner with the portable gas stove, so we all fell into our beds and tried to tell ourselves it was all part of the adventure. Why can't well behaved children, hidden treasure and a working camper be part of the adventure? The good news is, that J.T, myself and the girls all loved Kakadu once we had somewhere to sleep.
We've had some camper issues. In Darwin we had problems when the camper kinda went BANG as J.T. was winding it up. For three hours, in the dark and humidity inside the collapsed camper J.T. worked on trying to fix it. Apparently some parts were used to rebuild the winch system which weren't quite strong enough, so he did a macgyver and replaced something with some other bits from somewhere. He got that sorted out and we stayed three wonderful, hot, sticky nights in Darwin. I loved it (except for the mozzies) but J.T. wasn't too keen. Anyway, eventually it was time to pack up and head to Kakadu. I had high hopes for Kakadu, but I knew J.T. wasn't too keen, so I kept quiet for the whole time we were planning the trip, in case he changed his mind about staying three nights. Luckily, he decided he liked what he saw. We arrived in Jabiru with high hopes for our stay there, paid for a site and parked ourselves near the pool and in quick walking distance to the amenities (did I mention we have four small children?) It was lovely and warm, but nowhere near as sticky as Darwin and I suggested the girls and I head to the pool area to check it out while J.T. set up the camper. As we lounged by the pool, me feeding M and H, E and C dangling their toes in the water, I called J.T. on the phone (because it was at least a 20 sec walk to talk to him in person) and said "How's it going?" and he said "Very, very bad. We've snapped a cable." "Well," I said "that sux."
Now, here I must explain something about J.T. Everything that goes wrong is a disaster. I'm not 100% sure if that's because it is, or he just over-reacts. The thing is that "stuff" that happens generally turns out ok, so I don't tend to panic when things don't go as planned. But it's hard to stay positive when the person who's diagnosing problems says it's most definitely the end of the world as you know it. What usually happens is that just as I think there's no hope that the car will ever go again/we'll never have a working dishwasher/we won't be able to afford mortgage repayments, J.T. suddenly says "I fixed it!" and I'm left with a stomach ulcer. So this is why I tried to stay calm and hope for the best.
I rang reception and explained our problem. They said to try the local servo, which also had a mechanical workshop attached and generally carried lots of hardware-type items. It was a saturday and the girl behind the counter at the servo said they would probably have it in the workshop, but they weren't open until monday. Great, thanks. We headed towards the Jabiru Industrial Area, but nothing was open. Just as we were driving out, we spied a 4wd coming out of one of the gates. I pulled up in front of him to block his path and put on my saddest I-have-nowhere-to-sleep-and-four-tired-children face and explained our predicament. He told us to follow him to the local abandoned car yard. He pointed us to a hole in the fence and J.T. climbed through. While he searched the car I fed M, tried to keep H, E and C hydrated, fed and quiet and then saw something in the grass. "J.T!" I called "There's a thingo here in the grass, covered in cable!" He came over and made some noises about "antenna tower mumble mumble worth a fortune mumble mumble grumble" and started to assess the cable for camper-worthiness. We asked our helpful tour guide - who had retired to his lodgings behind the yard - and he said to take whatever we could get, as it had been lying in the grass for years. He gave us directions to the local tip and said there was metal piled separately and we may be lucky and find something there. And that's how we found ourselves, in a few short hours from the poolside to the dump on our tropical holiday. We didn't end up finding anything at the tip, but on our way back to the caravan park we found another antenna tower on the side of the road and found even more salvageable cable. We got back to the campsite and J.T. commenced work. He eventually fixed it. The kids were lying on the ground outside and I had managed to cook them some dinner with the portable gas stove, so we all fell into our beds and tried to tell ourselves it was all part of the adventure. Why can't well behaved children, hidden treasure and a working camper be part of the adventure? The good news is, that J.T, myself and the girls all loved Kakadu once we had somewhere to sleep.
Friday, October 1, 2010
C "blobs"
we popped the bubbles on savvy's phone. we went to nana and grandad's. we went to darwin. we played ball with savvy one to the middle and two to the sides. erin can't open her drawer. one day we went to kakadoos. we scratched the sticks on the rock. the mozzies were getting on us. we bought a candle. we were playing a restaurant. when we get back we are going for coffee with katherine.
Friday, September 24, 2010
gone fishin'
tuesday 21.9.2010
J.T. has gone fishing. He got up very early, fussed around and then asked "is it ok if I go fishing for an hour?" I knew this was what he wanted to do and was annoyed that he'd had to do the fussing beforehand and wake me up. I think he was working up the courage to suggest that he nick off, while leaving me with four kids. Of course his fussing woke them up, so as soon as he left, there were calls - from the other end of this vast space - "i neeeed to go to the toilet! I'm busting!!" Now H (oldest) and M (youngest) were still asleep, so this became a logistical challenge. The toilet block is visible from the camper, but there was no way I was sending E and C (5 and 3) to the loos by themselves. So I left H - now half awake - in charge of M and the rest of us walked to the amenities. After checking out the loos, I sent E and C into the disabled cubicle together and told them to lock the door. (Just so you know, there was a sign saying feel free to use the disabled facilities, when not currently in use.) I then waited outside the building so I could hear them (C singing and E giving instruction) and see anyone trying to break in and steal my other two from the camper. I'm sure nobody else would send their children near the toilets because I looked like some crazy woman, standing outside, listening at the door and staring all the while at our camper across the way - which probably looked like I was staring at the (both female) couple in the camper situated between the loos and our camper - but all seemed to be going well. Until E came out without C to give me C's night nappy and tell me it was wet. "Where's C?" "She's in there and the door's locked!" she tells me with pride in her voice. Oh dear, my heart sank. Not a week earlier, C had locked herself in a cubicle and then pooed. Unfortunately I was unavailable as I was with M trying to capture the magic of an Uluru sunset for E to present to her kindy class on return to school and J.T had sent them on a toilet mission on their own. H had been required to crawl under the door and clean up her soiled sister, because J.T hadn't wanted to bust in on a building full of teenage girls. This time, luckily, E got back inot the cubicle and there was no poo to be found. My two "middle girls" emerged from the amenities block with proud smiles and we trekked across to confirm that my "outer girls" were still snug in their beds. Why don't I ever get to *"go fishing"?
*I say "go fishing" because I don't actually want to go fishing. Yuck! Who wants to kill things by pulling them out of their environment, by giving them an unwanted (I assume) piercing and then leaving them to flop around on the banks of their former home while they drown in the air? J.T. and millions of others it would seem. I wouldn't mind just standing by myself for an hour though. I could even hold a rod if it made it more acceptable, just without a nasty hook on the end.
J.T. has gone fishing. He got up very early, fussed around and then asked "is it ok if I go fishing for an hour?" I knew this was what he wanted to do and was annoyed that he'd had to do the fussing beforehand and wake me up. I think he was working up the courage to suggest that he nick off, while leaving me with four kids. Of course his fussing woke them up, so as soon as he left, there were calls - from the other end of this vast space - "i neeeed to go to the toilet! I'm busting!!" Now H (oldest) and M (youngest) were still asleep, so this became a logistical challenge. The toilet block is visible from the camper, but there was no way I was sending E and C (5 and 3) to the loos by themselves. So I left H - now half awake - in charge of M and the rest of us walked to the amenities. After checking out the loos, I sent E and C into the disabled cubicle together and told them to lock the door. (Just so you know, there was a sign saying feel free to use the disabled facilities, when not currently in use.) I then waited outside the building so I could hear them (C singing and E giving instruction) and see anyone trying to break in and steal my other two from the camper. I'm sure nobody else would send their children near the toilets because I looked like some crazy woman, standing outside, listening at the door and staring all the while at our camper across the way - which probably looked like I was staring at the (both female) couple in the camper situated between the loos and our camper - but all seemed to be going well. Until E came out without C to give me C's night nappy and tell me it was wet. "Where's C?" "She's in there and the door's locked!" she tells me with pride in her voice. Oh dear, my heart sank. Not a week earlier, C had locked herself in a cubicle and then pooed. Unfortunately I was unavailable as I was with M trying to capture the magic of an Uluru sunset for E to present to her kindy class on return to school and J.T had sent them on a toilet mission on their own. H had been required to crawl under the door and clean up her soiled sister, because J.T hadn't wanted to bust in on a building full of teenage girls. This time, luckily, E got back inot the cubicle and there was no poo to be found. My two "middle girls" emerged from the amenities block with proud smiles and we trekked across to confirm that my "outer girls" were still snug in their beds. Why don't I ever get to *"go fishing"?
*I say "go fishing" because I don't actually want to go fishing. Yuck! Who wants to kill things by pulling them out of their environment, by giving them an unwanted (I assume) piercing and then leaving them to flop around on the banks of their former home while they drown in the air? J.T. and millions of others it would seem. I wouldn't mind just standing by myself for an hour though. I could even hold a rod if it made it more acceptable, just without a nasty hook on the end.
Monday, September 20, 2010
me and my stuff
monday 20.9.2010
I just asked J.T. if we could live in the camper when we get home. He made some noises which I'm going to take as agreement and the only thing I'm yet to work out is schooling. School of the air is always an option. See, it's not that I particularly like the camper, or that it's full of all the conveniences of home but we can drive it around. It's not like that at all! It's small, cramped, dirty and when we're all in it at once, very, very small. But I need to get away from my stuff.
I have spoken about this to my most excellent friend K.B. before. I have too much stuff. I am a hoarder. Of everything, not just really cool stuff that my kids will be able to take on Antiques Roadshow in the future and make millions (not including my collection of retro McDonald's Happy Meal toys in mint condition, which will make my fortune if I can ever find a buyer.) Added to that I don't clean or tidy as a rule. I like things to be clean and tidy, I really do, but I can't personally do it. For a while, a few years ago, I did this online de-cluttering/organising/cleaning thing online (I didn't clean online the program was online)called FLYlady and my house was not only usable, but pleasant. Then I fell pregnant with baby number two and it became too hard with a small child and morning sickness. I can't get back to it though. Now I have four kids and my house is just full. That's not a exaggeration either, we have literally kicked a path from our front door to the main living areas of the house and in other places we just walk on stuff to get around. It's quite disgusting and something I'm quite ashamed about. I don't have people over and the idea of people dropping in is a constant source of panic. People (the thousands who read this blog daily) will scream at their computer screens "CLEAN IT, YOU FOOL, YOU LAZY, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING SLOB!" and I would generally agree, but I just CAN'T do it. I can't. I want to, for me for my kids, for J.T., for all the people who love me who would like to come over for a cuppa....
Anyway, if I lived in the camper and never went back to my "stuff" it would all be ok. I'd only need a few things from there. My photos of course, all the kids' artworks, some toys (which we didn't bring because we knew the kids would be enthralled by nature and history *snort*), books, more cooking equipment, my pantry, lounge, heater, fan (the weather has been fickle), another pair of shorts, my radio, washing machine, fridge, freezer, oven, my elephant collection (currently conveniently stored in boxes), letters from when J.T and I were dating in high school, kids' christening gowns and gifts, everything that was ever hand-made for my children, mementos of interesting times. Some may say "everything but the kitchen sink," but I'm really missing my double sink. Maybe i should start looking at one of those two-storey 10 metre caravans with plenty of storage space.
I just asked J.T. if we could live in the camper when we get home. He made some noises which I'm going to take as agreement and the only thing I'm yet to work out is schooling. School of the air is always an option. See, it's not that I particularly like the camper, or that it's full of all the conveniences of home but we can drive it around. It's not like that at all! It's small, cramped, dirty and when we're all in it at once, very, very small. But I need to get away from my stuff.
I have spoken about this to my most excellent friend K.B. before. I have too much stuff. I am a hoarder. Of everything, not just really cool stuff that my kids will be able to take on Antiques Roadshow in the future and make millions (not including my collection of retro McDonald's Happy Meal toys in mint condition, which will make my fortune if I can ever find a buyer.) Added to that I don't clean or tidy as a rule. I like things to be clean and tidy, I really do, but I can't personally do it. For a while, a few years ago, I did this online de-cluttering/organising/cleaning thing online (I didn't clean online the program was online)called FLYlady and my house was not only usable, but pleasant. Then I fell pregnant with baby number two and it became too hard with a small child and morning sickness. I can't get back to it though. Now I have four kids and my house is just full. That's not a exaggeration either, we have literally kicked a path from our front door to the main living areas of the house and in other places we just walk on stuff to get around. It's quite disgusting and something I'm quite ashamed about. I don't have people over and the idea of people dropping in is a constant source of panic. People (the thousands who read this blog daily) will scream at their computer screens "CLEAN IT, YOU FOOL, YOU LAZY, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING SLOB!" and I would generally agree, but I just CAN'T do it. I can't. I want to, for me for my kids, for J.T., for all the people who love me who would like to come over for a cuppa....
Anyway, if I lived in the camper and never went back to my "stuff" it would all be ok. I'd only need a few things from there. My photos of course, all the kids' artworks, some toys (which we didn't bring because we knew the kids would be enthralled by nature and history *snort*), books, more cooking equipment, my pantry, lounge, heater, fan (the weather has been fickle), another pair of shorts, my radio, washing machine, fridge, freezer, oven, my elephant collection (currently conveniently stored in boxes), letters from when J.T and I were dating in high school, kids' christening gowns and gifts, everything that was ever hand-made for my children, mementos of interesting times. Some may say "everything but the kitchen sink," but I'm really missing my double sink. Maybe i should start looking at one of those two-storey 10 metre caravans with plenty of storage space.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
should have left the kids at home.
friday 17.9.2010
My kids are driving me barmy. I don't think it's natural to spend so much time travelling and sleeping in close quarters. I thought about nomadic tribes, but figured even they would have seperate horses/camels/gypsy caravans/whatever or, if walking, would be able to run off sometimes and just be.
I'm sick of "what is there to eat?/I'm hungry!" being whined at me every ten minutes. It doesn't help that there's not a lot they can eat - all four of them have pretty serious allergies and/or intolerances - so all their food is home made/baked and therefore I'm not willing to let them shovel it in. Does that make sense? Maybe I shIould be more willing to let them eat stuff I know I've made, but it really does take a lot of my time to cook and bake for them.
I'm also sick of the constant fighting that sarts as soon as they wake up. Literally the minute they are awake it's on. "Stop touching me!" Stop kicking me!" See, they're sharing a bed. Well the three older ones are. They are H - who is 7 and like to pretend she's civil and cooperative but is really in her own little world most of the time, E - who is 5 who has Asperger's syndrome and just doesn't "get" a lot of stuff and C - who is totally insane and 3 (and probably has ADHD like her father, the afforementioned J.T. - there's also the little one M - who is 9 months old and as gorgeous as can be, but insists on breastfeeding every 10 mins or so. ) I knew that sharing a bed would be really hard on E. She doesn't like being touched, which is really hard to avoid when sharing a smaller-than-double bed. We have them top-to-tail, but C tends to bunch up against H and then there's nowhere for E's feet to go between them. Immediately she assumes that C is kicking her, but I think C is just touching her. Of course as soon as she growls "STOP KICKING ME!" C starts kicking her. Because she's three and insane. Then it's on. We've tried to get E to lie on the edge of the bed, to ignore her, to "use her words," but nothing is working. This morning we tried to practice with E lying diagonal and the other two bunched in a corner. Sigh.
For some reason - as I mentioned to J.T. this morning as we listened to them bickering - I expected they would reach some kind of Zen state where they could exist in perfect peace and harmony. I expected this to come within a few days of starting out on our journey but maybe it's still to come. Maybe I just need to chill.
My kids are driving me barmy. I don't think it's natural to spend so much time travelling and sleeping in close quarters. I thought about nomadic tribes, but figured even they would have seperate horses/camels/gypsy caravans/whatever or, if walking, would be able to run off sometimes and just be.
I'm sick of "what is there to eat?/I'm hungry!" being whined at me every ten minutes. It doesn't help that there's not a lot they can eat - all four of them have pretty serious allergies and/or intolerances - so all their food is home made/baked and therefore I'm not willing to let them shovel it in. Does that make sense? Maybe I shIould be more willing to let them eat stuff I know I've made, but it really does take a lot of my time to cook and bake for them.
I'm also sick of the constant fighting that sarts as soon as they wake up. Literally the minute they are awake it's on. "Stop touching me!" Stop kicking me!" See, they're sharing a bed. Well the three older ones are. They are H - who is 7 and like to pretend she's civil and cooperative but is really in her own little world most of the time, E - who is 5 who has Asperger's syndrome and just doesn't "get" a lot of stuff and C - who is totally insane and 3 (and probably has ADHD like her father, the afforementioned J.T. - there's also the little one M - who is 9 months old and as gorgeous as can be, but insists on breastfeeding every 10 mins or so. ) I knew that sharing a bed would be really hard on E. She doesn't like being touched, which is really hard to avoid when sharing a smaller-than-double bed. We have them top-to-tail, but C tends to bunch up against H and then there's nowhere for E's feet to go between them. Immediately she assumes that C is kicking her, but I think C is just touching her. Of course as soon as she growls "STOP KICKING ME!" C starts kicking her. Because she's three and insane. Then it's on. We've tried to get E to lie on the edge of the bed, to ignore her, to "use her words," but nothing is working. This morning we tried to practice with E lying diagonal and the other two bunched in a corner. Sigh.
For some reason - as I mentioned to J.T. this morning as we listened to them bickering - I expected they would reach some kind of Zen state where they could exist in perfect peace and harmony. I expected this to come within a few days of starting out on our journey but maybe it's still to come. Maybe I just need to chill.
who to blame?
thurs 16.9.2010
Why are we doing this? Well we have my good friend K.B. to thank for that. Discussing with her (over coffee) where we could go on holidays, she said "why don't you go absolutely crazy, buy a camper and drive with your four nutbag kids and your husband all the way to Darwin and back?" or words to a similar effect. She may not have actually mentioned the driving bit. Anyway, the really cuckoo (as my children would say) thing was not that she suggested this, but that I then went home and suggested that exact thing to my husband (henceforth known as J.T.) Now anyone who knows J.T. knows that once he has a project he kinda becomes really focused, some would say obsessed. J.T had been trying to convince me to go on driving holidays for years and I had generally resisted, prefering to lie around a read a book in a nice location for my holidaying. Up until now we had generally combined our preferences, meaning neither of us was particularly satisfied. At first we thought we'd take the girls out of school a week before the holidays and have three weeks, but that eventually extended to three weeks out of school and five weeks all up. J.T. spent hours researching campers and we eventually decided to check out a Jayco Finch. I'm so glad we didn't get that, because it was just way too small. We ended up buying the next size up, a Dove, off ebay. Then J.T. discovered it's "issues." He spent every waking moment in the weeks before we went away welding, cutting, designing, wiring, kicking and swearing in, on and at the camper. the short story (ha!) is that it was almost done before we left. He and his Dad and Mum worked on it for two days straight as their place was our first stop.
And then we started travelling... so far we've seen some of the most amazing things, things that J.T and I have always wanted to see and things the girls will (hopefully) never forget. We still have many more days to go and hope we have an amazing holiday. So, saying all that. We have K.B. to thank, with only the smallest hint of sarcasm.
Why are we doing this? Well we have my good friend K.B. to thank for that. Discussing with her (over coffee) where we could go on holidays, she said "why don't you go absolutely crazy, buy a camper and drive with your four nutbag kids and your husband all the way to Darwin and back?" or words to a similar effect. She may not have actually mentioned the driving bit. Anyway, the really cuckoo (as my children would say) thing was not that she suggested this, but that I then went home and suggested that exact thing to my husband (henceforth known as J.T.) Now anyone who knows J.T. knows that once he has a project he kinda becomes really focused, some would say obsessed. J.T had been trying to convince me to go on driving holidays for years and I had generally resisted, prefering to lie around a read a book in a nice location for my holidaying. Up until now we had generally combined our preferences, meaning neither of us was particularly satisfied. At first we thought we'd take the girls out of school a week before the holidays and have three weeks, but that eventually extended to three weeks out of school and five weeks all up. J.T. spent hours researching campers and we eventually decided to check out a Jayco Finch. I'm so glad we didn't get that, because it was just way too small. We ended up buying the next size up, a Dove, off ebay. Then J.T. discovered it's "issues." He spent every waking moment in the weeks before we went away welding, cutting, designing, wiring, kicking and swearing in, on and at the camper. the short story (ha!) is that it was almost done before we left. He and his Dad and Mum worked on it for two days straight as their place was our first stop.
And then we started travelling... so far we've seen some of the most amazing things, things that J.T and I have always wanted to see and things the girls will (hopefully) never forget. We still have many more days to go and hope we have an amazing holiday. So, saying all that. We have K.B. to thank, with only the smallest hint of sarcasm.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Well, well, well.... well
sun 12.9.2010
we are into day 6 of our trip. This morning while visiting the loos at Woomera Traveller's Village with H and E I overheard a woman exclaiming that "it was the one luxury she couldn't live without!" What was this luxury? "It" was washing her face. Now, I agree that washing your face is mostly an essential part of personal hygiene, but the place we were staying had fully functioning, pleasant ammenities, including showers. If you are bush camping and have very little water and it's 50 degrees in the shade, then face washing may be seen as a luxury, but when you are in a place that has showers, it's really the bare minimum a grown woman should be doing. Both for her own sake and others around her. And that's all I'll say on that matter.
Today we visit the rockets. It's been a long time coming with us being a full day behind schedule, plus getting here too late last night to see anything, let alone explore a rocket park. I'm not sure what we're going to bribe Erin with into staying calm after we've left the rockets. Maybe we'll lie and say there's more rockets in Darwin.
later:
Well we made it to Coober Pedy. It was freezing cold and raining the whole way from Woomera. So much for warm weather in the outback! We're not going to get to see anything here in the underground town because we have to leave at sparrow's for Uluru to try and make it for sunset. Which there won't be because it will be raining. We also won't make it because it's a huge drive and Molly insists on feeding every half an hour. *Sigh*
we are into day 6 of our trip. This morning while visiting the loos at Woomera Traveller's Village with H and E I overheard a woman exclaiming that "it was the one luxury she couldn't live without!" What was this luxury? "It" was washing her face. Now, I agree that washing your face is mostly an essential part of personal hygiene, but the place we were staying had fully functioning, pleasant ammenities, including showers. If you are bush camping and have very little water and it's 50 degrees in the shade, then face washing may be seen as a luxury, but when you are in a place that has showers, it's really the bare minimum a grown woman should be doing. Both for her own sake and others around her. And that's all I'll say on that matter.
Today we visit the rockets. It's been a long time coming with us being a full day behind schedule, plus getting here too late last night to see anything, let alone explore a rocket park. I'm not sure what we're going to bribe Erin with into staying calm after we've left the rockets. Maybe we'll lie and say there's more rockets in Darwin.
later:
Well we made it to Coober Pedy. It was freezing cold and raining the whole way from Woomera. So much for warm weather in the outback! We're not going to get to see anything here in the underground town because we have to leave at sparrow's for Uluru to try and make it for sunset. Which there won't be because it will be raining. We also won't make it because it's a huge drive and Molly insists on feeding every half an hour. *Sigh*
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)