Crying Babies

“Why is it that I am always the only one who hears our son crying in the night?” I ask for the millionth time.

I wake even when my son makes the slightest carry on, but my husband sleeps soundly on. Well he sleeps soundly on unless it’s the second time my son’s woken up during the night and I elbow my husband in the ribs until he wakes up, then inform him it’s his turn to check on the baby (I say baby even though he’s eighteen months old now and I’m not sure if he’s technically still a baby). To my husband’s credit, if I wake him and tell him to go check on our son, he normally does it with minimal grumbling.

It used to be that my son would wake up and just want a hug or bottle then be happy to go back to sleep, but in the last 6 months or so it’s been more like he’s having nightmares. You go in to check on him and he’s still asleep. It is rather disturbing seeing my baby boy tossing and turning, screaming with tears rolling out of closed eyes. Thankfully just picking him up or patting his back or tummy does the trick and he goes back in a calm sleep.

I remember reading somewhere that it’s hardwired into a woman’s brain to register those high pitched distressed tones of one’s offspring. But dang it, I tell you I’d like a night where I sleep through and my husband wakes up.

^ Riley awake and happy In his cot ^

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^ Shane, Riley and I ^

Buffalo Nickel

Today’s Post entitled Buffalo Nickel asks us to dig through our couch cushions, purse or the floor of our car and look at the year printed on the first coin we find, and then write about what we were doing that year.

Hahahaha well the first coin I pulled out of my wallet was a twenty cent piece from 1967.

I wasn’t born in 1967; in fact my mother was only 9 years old and would have still been attending Toronto Primary School. My mother, my Aunt Sharon and my Grandparents would have only recently moved from their small flat in Victory parade above the Workshop that was owned by my great grandfather at the time, to their first real family home, which is where my grandparents still live in Carey Bay. So 1967 was probably a very good year for my mother.

My father, well he would have been 9 years old also, but I’ve never heard any particular stories about that year. Most of his childhood stories are along the line of catching snakes in the bush. He tells stories of getting bitten and getting sick, stories of putting the captured snakes in his dad’s bird cages, then getting in trouble when all his dads birds started to disappear, but none of the stories have a date.

So I thought I’d see that was happening in Australia in 1967 – Here are the things I found interesting:

On the 7th February Massive bushfires devastate much of the Tasmanian capital of Hobart and surrounding areas. Well nothing much has changed there we are and will always be a country ravaged by fire.

On the 1st March the Royal Australian Navy replaced the British White Ensign flag on all its ships with the Australian White Ensign. Woo Hoo we’re Aussie and proud.

On the 4th April the Australian government announces it will not ban the oral contraceptive pill, maintaining that the risk of thrombosis is “very slight”. THANK GOODNESS FOR THAT!!

On the 27th May Indigenous Australians are given the right to be counted in the national census after a national referendum and legislation changing citizenship laws. IT’S ABOUT BLOODY TIME!!!!!

On the 1st July the postcode system of postal address coding is introduced throughout Australia. Wow I’d never thought of a time when it didn’t exist! How on earth did they get the mail to the right people?

On the 1st August Qantas Airways drops the word ‘Empire’ from its name.

On the 1st October the NSW National Parks & Wildlife Service is established.

DRAMA!! Our Prime Minister was Harold Holt in 1967 until 19th December, when Holt disappears while swimming in heavy surf at Cheviot Beach in Victoria. Following the disappearance of Holt, Country Party leader John McEwen is sworn in as interim Prime Minister pending the election of a new government leader by the Coalition parties. BUT 20th December John McEwen announced he will not serve in a government led by Liberal Party deputy leader William McMahon, Harold Holt’s presumed successor, triggering a leadership crisis for the Coalition.

AND the most important thing that happened in 1967 and my ‘Tory’ loving daddy will agree: General Motors Holden exports its 100,000th car and launches its first compact sedan, the Torana! Yeah Baby!!!

Post 52 of 365 Writing Prompts 2014 (M29)

Learning to drive

Memory: Learning to drive.

My father is a very calm man, but I’ve never seen him as stressed as when he was trying to teach me to drive.

He was in the process of fixing up an old Manuel Toyota Corolla for me, when I first got my learners licence. He had previously let me drive around in country paddocks in his 4WD Patrol. But after the first time we took his rather wide and powerful Nissan Patrol on the road he decided he was going to get me a small automatic car with power steering and he quickly sold the Corolla and got a Ford Laser. The Laser was immaculate once he was done fixing it up. I loved that Laser. It was nice and easy to drive.

I should add that my dad is a panel beater and this was back in the day when you could buy a write-off and repair it, which is exactly what he did with the Corolla and the Laser.

My dad refused to try and teach me to park, so he paid a driving instructor with a Toyota Rav4 to do that.

There was a time in-between him fixing up the laser that he took me for a lesson in my mother’s Holden Commodore, which for a 16 year old with not much driving experience was an army tank, big and powerful. I loved it. He gritted his teeth the entire time, I think it made him get the laser fixed quicker.

It was a fine day and we heated up to visit my grandfather at Kurri. A lot of the roads on the way the speed limit is 80/90, but I doubt I was going anywhere near that as it was one of my first times on the road. My dad would keep getting me to pull over to the side of the road so all the cars behind us could go past. I can remember on one of these pull out of the way stops, I was gliding to a nice smooth stop before a road marker and he was jumping up and down in his seat saying STOP! I was very cranky because I thought I did a beautiful smooth breaking job just like the paid driving instructor had been teaching me. I explained this to my father and his response was ‘’Break harder and faster when you’re in the car with me” The more I think about it, I think that was the only time he took me out in my mother’s car.

The difference between my mother and fathers teaching Technics where like night and day. My Dad would freak out and tell me to slow down and STOP!! and the radio was always off!! My Mum would sit in the passenger seat, relax and tune out to the music on the radio as I drove around collecting my minimum hours.

I would also like to point out I got my licence first go and scored 98% on my test, losing only two points for my reverse park (which is really amusing as I nearly always reverse into parking spots these days). So both my parents’ methods of teaching me to drive worked. The fella in the Rav4 paid off to, as neither of my parents had to try to teach me to park.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Family

Even though i’m an only child, if you add up all my Aunties, Uncles and Cousins I have a fairly large family, but for this weeks photos i decided to go with a series of recent shots i took of My Dad, My Son & My Grandfather.

These photos were taken in one of my Grandfather’s bird aviaries (Both my Father and Grandfather breed Zebra Finches). This was the first time Riley had met his Great Grandfather as the last time i saw him i was still pregnant. It was Norm’s 87th birthday!! Riley wouldn’t cooperate in the photos and give me a smile, but they all seemed pretty impressed with each other :-).

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My Favourite

Today’s post asked us, what’s the most time you’ve ever spent apart from your favourite person?

So first up I’d have to figure out who my favourite person was! I’d have to say that for the last six month my son was my favourite person, if I go further back than that things get hazy and messy.

The longest I’ve been apart from my son would only be an eight hour stretch. I’ve been back at work for two months now part time and I’m still really not coping with being away from him. I do take my son to work with me sometimes, but I feel it’s really not fair on him as he’s missing out on play time and proper sleep, and it’s easier to get work done without him there.

I’ve been married for seven years and the longest my husband and I have ever been apart is two weeks, but after being married for about five years at the time, a two week break was nice LOL, after that though I needed him back so I could catch up on sleep! I’ve never been really good at sleeping when I’m home alone.

Bar being away from my son the toughest separation I’ve had from people I love was when my parents went overseas in 2010, Dad played cricket with The Lords Taverners around Manchester and Harrogate in England. Then my Mum and Dad went off briefly exploring Scotland.  They were only gone a month but I can remember crying at one stage, probably around the third week, missing them! Now I’m sure we’ve gone longer than a month before not seeing each other when we’ve all been busy, but they’ve still been just five minutes up the road, nice safe security blanket, but when they were in a different time zone in a different country, not safe, no security blanket. I wasn’t bothered when in 2012 they went to New Zealand oddly enough, maybe because in my mind that’s just next door or maybe because they made it home in 2010 I was more calm. It’ll be interesting to see how I cope when in 2015 they go on their next cricket adventure with the Lords Taverners to South Africa.

365daysofprompts  Post 6/365 missed 1

Children Learn What They Live

Children Learn What They Live, By Dorothy Law Nolte, Ph.D.

If children live with criticism, they learn to condemn.

If children live with hostility, they learn to fight.

If children with fear, they learn to be apprehensive.

If children live with pity, they learn to feel sorry for themselves.

If children live with ridicule, they learn to feel shy.

If children live with jealousy, they learn to feel envy.

If children live with shame, they learn to feel guilty.

If children live with encouragement, they learn confidence.

If children live with tolerance, they learn patience.

If children live with praise, they learn appreciation.

If children live with acceptance, they learn to love.

If children live with approval, they learn to like themselves.

If children live with recognition, they learn it is good to have a goal.

If children live with sharing, they learn generosity.

If children live with honesty, they learn truthfulness.

If children live with fairness, they learn justice.

If children live with kindness and consideration, they learn respect.

If children live with security, they learn to have faith in themselves and in those about them.

If children live with friendliness, they learn the world is a nice place in which to live.

Before my son was born, when we were doing our parenting classes at the John Hunter Hospital, this (the above) was given as a handout to all expectant parents, I really liked it and it stuck with me, so I thought I would share it with you all.

Dorothy Law Nolte was an American writer, she wrote a column in a newspaper about raising children and she was family counselor who was born in 1924 and died in 2005.  – also I’d just like to point out that she wrote this in 1972!

Kiddlets

Kiddlets is a word I use instead of children, a cross between Kids and Piglets. Example – yeah Riley’s good, how are your kiddlets.
It’s always been a me sort of word but when I yelled out to my husband tonight ‘have you got everything’
as we where leaving to go out out he replied
‘everything but the kiddlet’
I laughed to myself, after being together for eight years the only word he has inherited from me is kiddlets.
He doesn’t use my ‘Pudding’ which I use for a variety of things or wombat, which I’ve been calling my son since I found out I was pregnant. Oh I could go on and on with my word substitutes. It’s kiddlets that’s crossed over, must be my most ‘normal’ substitute LOL Made me laugh.

Riley’s First Christmas

This Christmas will be my sons first and to celebrate I’ve put together a post in photos of us putting up our Christmas tree – there is a story behind this old hand me down tree, but I’ll get to that after the photos :-).

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Hmmm what is it, can i eat it?

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Dad where are you going with my new toy?

My son, Riley proceeded to giggle at me as I fluffed out the fake leaves and rearranged the branches. Riley and his father then just sat and watched me decorate the tree.

IMG_9672      IMG_9655 Hmmm what is it?

IMG_9660 Can I have it?

IMG_9664 Hmmm now what should I do with it?

IMG_9666 Can I eat it?

IMG_9667 Yep! gunna try and eat it!

IMG_9668 First Christmas

(this is the ornament Riley tried to eat while I was trying to get a photo of him with it)

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My tree & table decorations – while these are probably not as fancy as some of you have and I only decorate one room in my house, the dining room. When I lived at home we only decorated one room, the living room and this tree is the very tree that my grandmother and I would decorate every year with mostly the very same decorations. I’m about to turn 27 so the tree has to be at least twenty five years old (ish) and I love it, I look at it and I’m ten years old again, I look at it and I’m home. It still has a few of the same wooden ornaments I played with as a kid. I can remember going into Grace Brothers with my mother and buying a new angel for the top and I still use her today. About three years ago I inherited this tree and with it a box of old decorations from my mother.

Now back to the decorating ritual – as i remember it – on the first of December every year my Nanma (my maternal grandmother) would come over and we would decorate the tree, mum was doing who knows what at the time, but Nanma and I would decorate the tree and I loved it. I am not sure why or how it started, but i always looked forward to decorating this tree, and i know it was the doing it with my grandmother part that made it fun, cause it’s kinda stressful on your own. This year I did it myself with Riley watching on (OK my husband put the actual tree bit together for me), but I’m thinking next year I’m going to make my mother come over and decorate it with Riley while I go drink some wine and she and he can carry on the tradition.

I am very much looking forward to this Christmas and i hope i can instill in my son my love for Christmas, the real Christmas, being with family and friends and celebrating being together!

Warning Body Wash & Baby

Goats milk

I have very sensitive skin and so have been playing it safe and just assuming my son also will have sensitive skin.

 

QV is one of the very few products that does not irritate my skin, so it’s all I’ve used on my son.

 

Recently I purchased a bottle of goats milk body wash as it was half the price of the QV and on the bottle states its ideal for sensitive skin. I’ve been using it in the shower to see if it affects my skin before I use it on my son, I’ve been using it for about two weeks now and I haven’t gotten any rashes or burns and my skins been ouch free – BUT yesterday I got some in my eye, it was one of the most painful things I’ve ever gotten in my eye, I liken it to the time I got a flying amber from a camp fire in my eye. It took a couple of hours before it stopped stinging. Thank god I hadn’t used it on my son first – it hurt my adult eye so much, imagine a little babies eye coping with it, makes my stomach churn. So only water and QV for my little prince (I’ve had it in my eyes and its fine).

So I’m just going to put it out there people if you buy a body wash or bubble bath for your kids, use it first and put some in your eye to be sure – lovely safe looking bottles can be deceiving.

 

I Love you anyway Luigi

During the lead up to my son’s birth I was trying to put together a family tree book for him and what followed was destroying my father’s belief that he had Italian heritage, sorry daddy.

My father picked up the name Luigi in his younger days because he looked like a wog. He was rather proud of this and so was I. I love Italian culture and thought it rather nice to have some Italian heritage.

Now my father is a short, active, quiet (unless under the influence of rum or red wine) and rather fit young looking 55 year old. It is really only in the last five years that he started to show his age and get some grey hair etc. When people used to pick on him saying he dyed his hair, he always used the line that it was his Italian blood. Now his vitality IS definitely in his blood, his mother now 85 is still globetrotting and in my memory has only had the one grey patch of hair nearly my entire life and no neither of them have ever dyed their hair. If I’m lucky I’ll be the same.

Now I had always been told by my father that his grandfather was Italian, so when doing my sons family tree I dug deeper. I sat down and asked my father where he got the idea his grandfather was Italian from and he told me a story which is what he believed to be true; that his Grandmother had got up to some mischief with a sexy Italian and thus his mother was born. The sexy Italian then got shipped back to Italy for shaming his family etc. etc. A lovely and touching story, I mean who wouldn’t want to have a fling with a sexy Italian. Now my dad’s story says that the Italians had a store and his grandmother worked there, nope no they didn’t no Italians had a store anywhere near, there is no record of Italians in the town in which his mother came from, on record there’s only French entrepreneurs, Englishmen and aborigines before the time of his mother’s birth.

Now the story of his Grandmother falling madly in love with a sexy dark grease ball and conceiving a child, then the sexy stud being forced to leave his beloved and return home never to see her again is wonderful stuff, someone spat him a rather good yarn as a kid and he soaked it up. I still wonder who told him that story, maybe he asked his grandmother one day why he didn’t have a grandfather and maybe it was his grandmother being cheeky that told him the story – he is rather vague in the memory department as to where he picked up the story from. I quizzed one of his sisters and she’d never heard it before but thought it was rather amusing.

My father is one of my favourite people on earth and I love him to bits. I didn’t want to break his heart and tell him after digging I had found out whom his grandfather really was and that he was plain and had no awesome wog-ness.

Now knowing the truth I’d just go with that back in 1928 my Great Grandmother wanted a baby, so she had herself one and that baby, MY grandmother, grew up to be one of the most amazing women I know.

Actually all the women in my dad’s family are kick arse independent awesome awesome beautiful powerful women. I grew up as a little girl with extremely strong females in my life on both my mother’s and father’s sides. Both of my grandmothers are amazing inspiring powerful women with amazing strength. Now this did instil in me that I can do anything (which is good) but that I don’t need anything from anybody and that no one needs to help me (not so good and gets me into strife from time to time) but never the less GIRL POWER – wait this went from being about my dad to girl power, hmmm well I don’t think he’d mind.

Remember to smile people, it makes you live longer!!!!