whybother?

Anyone who remembers this post will shake their head in wonder when I tell this story…

We went to visit a little farmstay property we go to from time to time. We went up on Saturday morning, for three nights. The first day, it rained (every time we’ve gone there, it’s rained, but that’s not a problem).

Let me digress: the first time we visited the farm, it rained. The weather was coolish, the river water icy. I had promised Mollie that we would ‘row, row, row the boat, gently down the stream’ (she was rather young at the time), so we donned our swimmers (just in case) and jumped aboard. Darren chose his vantage point very carefully: the bridge traversing said river. Upon rowing as far as we could, we were blocked by a naturally occurring dam of smooth river rocks. Mollie hopped out of the boat to explore. For some reason, I decided to do the same. Now anyone who knows me is aware that I am rather uncoordinated. Ok, TOTALLY uncoordinated. It wasn’t always thus. It is a part of getting older and fatter. Anyhoo, I made my way to the pointy end of the boat- first error. With one foot in the boat, I stepped onto a flattish, smoothish rock. At which point the boat, with my other foot firmly planted inside it, began to travel at an alarming rate of knots BACKWARDS. So I had one foot on the rock, one foot inside the boat. Not being particularly flexible or fit, I was quite stuck. Meanwhile, the gap between right foot and left foot was ever widening. When the boat had gone as far as it could with half of my body weight in it, it began (surprisingly!) to tip. Over I went, into the icy water. Much to Darren’s mirth. At that age, Mollie was still sweet enough to be concerned about my well-being, and was heard to inquire very politely and WITHOUT sniggering, whether or not I was all right. Darren didn’t bother to ask. He was speechless. There were tears in his eyes, but they were not sympathetic tears. Not at all.

Fast forward to 2007. "I’m not packing my swimmers this weekend people. I have no intentions of going anywhere near the river, or the boat." Knowing looks were exchanged. Off we went. Naturally, the first thing Mollie wanted to do upon arrival was change into swimmers and hit the river. I offered to accompany her on the strict understanding that I would NOT be swimming, or boarding the boat. I cheerfully placed the dog on its lead, and off we went. Mollie hopped into the boat, I untied the rope, and off she went. Mollie suffers from a genetic condition which she has inherited from me. She is uncoordinated. The first thing she did was to drop one of the oars. By the time she fished it out and put it back in its rowlock, she had begun to drift downstream. Now, remember, it had been raining. For several days. The river was swollen, and was probably a good 2 feet higher than normal. Naturally, it was flowing faster than normal. Before we knew it, Mollie was adrift, with no hope of recovering. I tried to grab the rope. I am not as strong as I thought I was. The rope slid painfully through my hands. I stepped into ankle deep water, then calf deep water to grab the boat. This exercise was met with a degree of success, however the current was so strong, all I could do was hold the boat in place.

I directed Mollie to get out of the freaking boat and go ashore. This she did. I threw her the rope, and instructed her to tie it around a nearby tree, while I held the offending boat steady. This we achieved. With the boat safely tied up and not going any further, I made the timely decision to try and pull it up onto the bank of the river, so that the next victim may board safely. At this point, I lost my footing and went arse over head, fully clothed, into the fucking river. To Mollie’s eternal credit she did not laugh out loud. Moments later, after taking a deep breath and counting to 100, I stood up and informed her that it was now safe to laugh. She did. The tears rolled down her little cheeks, and she had trouble catching her breath. Like father, like daughter. My only saving grace was that he was not present to witness the spectacle.

I returned, dripping wet, to the cottage, whereupon Darren was observed to look quizically in my direction. "Don’t ask", I said, as I hit the showers.

A couple of friends of mine are ‘into’ astrology. I know what star sign I am, and I pretty much know the star signs of those I love. That is the full extent of my knowledge. Daz recently found a website that gives a profile of each individual based on their date of birth. I have no idea what the website was, I just tried to have a look and came up with nothing. He received it as an email. Anyhoo, as strange as it sounds, it was pretty damn accurate.

My point is, that I have recently discovered (thanks to my New Age friends) that because Mollie is an Aries, and I am a Libra, we are destined to butt heads. Forever more. It can’t be helped, it is predestined. We simply cannot communicate with each other without an interpreter (Daz). Anyone reading this may well scoff, but it is SO true! Just tonight, for example, Mollie and I were having a conversation. We were talking about the same thing, but coming at it from totally different points of view. It was not a discussion or an argument. She was telling me about something she had done, and I could not get my head around it. From her point of view, it made perfect sense. She knew exactly what she meant. I had no fucking idea. Not a clue. We ended up in an argument, because I could not understand why she did what she did, and when she tried to explain it, I didn’t get it. Darren intervened (God love him) and explained to me what she was saying. Only then, when he used language I could understand, did I get it. It even kind of made sense. The way she speaks, and the way I hear her (or listen to her) and the way I speak/the way she hears me are not compatible. Never have been. It’s been a constant source of frustration to both of us. Now that I am aware of it, I can TRY and use different methods to understand her. It’s only taken 10 years! I’ve always known there was a problem, but now I have a ‘label’ for it: oppositional star signs! Or whatever you like to call it. The thing is, it is now a known problem, not a case of butting heads!! So I feel better.

My friend Sara has allowed me to borrow a couple of her astrology books. It is her hope (she is an Aries and has a Libran mother) to give me the information I need that will allow me to bridge the gap. She would love to be closer to her mum. But they do not understand each other. Never have. Oh, this sounds SO familiar!! Funnily enough, my mother is also an Aries. Do we understand each other? Not even slightly! Are we even on the same planet? I don’t think so, and this is one point on which I think we would agree. I have started reading. Another friend has also given me some tips on how NOT to communicate with an Aries child. What is her star sign? ARIES!!! She listened to an argument between Mollie and I the other night, and when Mollie left the room, she explained to me why I would never win the argument from Mollie’s point of view. She told me that the more I nagged and carried on, the more Mollie would dig her heels in and go her own way. We’ve always joked that Mollie doesn’t need to go to school because she already knows everything, but apparently that is a well-known trait of the Aries child: they do, in fact, know everything, and will go out of their way not to do as they’re told because they damn well know better! I’ll never forget a tiny, 3 or 4 year old Mollie. We gave her her very first watch and we were trying to teach her to tell the time. She wasn’t having any….she KNEW how to tell the time, and no way known could we convince her otherwise. Interestingly, we never did teach her……she literally seemed to pick it up through osmosis. And I am not talking ‘digital’ time, but actual, big hand, little hand, time! Weird. Likewise reading. We read to her from conception. Daily. Hourly. Nobody ever taught that child to read. At two, she could recite entire books: word for word, speech patterns, voice modulation, the whole works. Sure, she was repeating parrot fashion, but eventually she must have looked at the words, because she could read before she went to school. She came home from kindergarten with a ‘home reader’: a little book with big pictures and small words. She read it, without missing a beat, on the first night. So I made her read it from back to front (I know, I’m a bitch!) because I couldn’t believe it. Then I made her read random words, just to be really sure. Socially, not so good, but intellectually, she could have gone straight to 1st or 2nd grade!

Apparently, this is a true Arian quality. Who knew? Oh, the angst we have both suffered. If only I had studied astrology earlier in the piece. I may have been able to conceive at a time that would allow me to give birth to a child with a COMPATIBLE star sign! God, my daughter could be my best friend (shudder). Anyhoo, according to the astrology bible, Mollie is: open minded (not sure about that), enthusiastic (hell yeah!), individualistic (from a young age, her grandfather coined the phrase ‘we don’t explain her, we just enjoy her’), Outspoken (well, she is my daughter!), alert (hmmm…), ambitious (not so much), candid (you could say that, don’t know where she gets it from ha ha), generous (tick), and quick witted (yes, but not always in an appropriate way…). The not so great characteristics include selfishness (well, you know, it IS all about her), quick tempered (no comment), impulsive (you did WHAT?), impatient (again, who does she get that from?) and lacking in direction. Let’s see, I’m 33 years old, I’ve had a dozen different jobs, it took me 6 years to get my degree, I wonder who am I to criticize that particular aspect?  Apparently Arians love action, coming first, challenges, championing causes and spontaneity. No arguments there! Funnily enough, they don’t like waiting around (who does?), humouring fools (complimentary headbutts!), admitting failure (hello?), tyranny (oh, that’s why she won’t do as I say!), and taking advice from others (see: knows everything!!).

Ok, end of lecture Aries 101. I just found it interesting, and it certainly has given me something to think about….

So I’ve been with Clayton’s for nearly 3 weeks. There have been MASSIVE dramas in the department to coincide with my arrival (sheer coincidence, I swear!). I have been tucked safely away at induction training, and today was my first day in the ‘real’ world.

When I first accepted the job, I was assigned to my local office (yay! Walk to work, duck home for lunch, etc, etc). With all the problems that have occurred recently, I have been reassigned to an office a 45 minute drive away. I found out at lunchtime on Friday, so that kind of fucked up my weekend. I was less than impressed. However, such is life, and I’m more or less over being pissed off.

So off I trotted this morning, eager to meet my new workmates. I would not say my day was riveting. I wouldn’t even say I really achieved anything. The good news is that my manager seems really nice. She gave us a bit of a lecture this morning, about being ‘old school’ and ’straight down the line’, but to be honest, this style of management really appeals to me. I’m sick to death of managers who want to be best friends with everyone, who are all ‘touchy feely’ and can’t make a decision to save their lives. I get the distinct impression from ‘The Chief’ that there will be little room for error and fools will not be suffered gladly…fine by me! I will not be going out of my way to piss her off, that’s for sure!!

I managed to get my teeth into a couple of little jobs that befit my lowly station…..the Uni student who has been on placement for the past 3 months was showing me what to do!! It’s good though, because it means we’re not being chucked in the deep end. Oh, when I say ‘we’, I’m referring to the girls who have joined me. There were six of us for induction, three of us have gone to this particular office. Does that give you some idea of the trouble this office has had recently? I did ask why they chose to appoint new workers instead of more experienced ones, but the answer did not inspire me with confidence, so I won’t share it here. Anyone who knows me understands that I’m in a kind of sensitive job. Anyone else will be wondering why I’m talking ‘in code’. Basically, there’s not much I can say without revealing who I work for, and once that penny drops, my professionalism, confidentiality and just about everything else may be called into question, so I’m pretty much covering my arse!

Anyhoo, that’s my first day! Not a lot to report, really.

I have little to report about my weekend either. I shopped til I dropped on Saturday. Didn’t get anything for myself, but got Daz some nice new clothes and a couple of little things for the Mol. Hi, Mol! I can’t say what things I got, because she WILL read this. She can’t help herself.

What else did I get up to? Oh, that’s right. I spent a few hours (yes, HOURS) cleaning Mollie’s room. I’m not sure it’s ever been quite that bad. It’s always messy, but this time there was a rather nauseating smell emanating from her vicinity. I tracked it down to the school bag, which now resides on the verandah (I will NOT be cleaning that out: purely her responsibility!). I emptied out the entire contents of the wall length built-in wardrobe. I removed six garbage bags of rubbish. I have a carload of items to go to the local charity store. Everything else has been put back using a fool-proof system of labelled storage boxes. Think underwear in the underwear box. Socks in the sock box. DVD’s in the DVD box. I know what you’re thinking, but I am at my wits’ end with this child. She does not have an anal bone in her body. She is frighteningly disorganized. Example: six months ago she lost her maths workbook. We searched high and low for it. She searched high and low at school. The teacher searched high and low. She was issued with a second copy. She also lost it. Guess what I found? Two copies of the maths workbook! Guess what else I found? A library book she borrowed LAST YEAR! Yes, that’s right, 2006. Oh, and four manky sandwiches. In varying states of decay. And a little jewellery case filled with M & M’s. The mind boggles.

The room now looks lovely, and I’m pleased to say that she got up and made her bed this morning, for probably the first time in her entire life! And when she came home from school, she hung her uniform up! Good girl, I’m proud of you.

Mollie has been a member of the Australian Youth Choir since the beginning of this year. She has religiously attended rehearsals, travelling an hour each way every Tuesday. She has attended three performances at Sydney Town Hall, one of which was with the Keystone Boychoir. She has taken part in a CD recording with a well known Australian recording artist, Darryl Cotton. Tonight, she came home from rehearsals with her annual report. She received top marks (the equivalent of all ‘A’s’) and has progressed from being in the Probationer Choir to the Training Choir, a huge achievement. Needless to say, she is a little bit excited. So am I!

I can’t sing a note. Not one! I’m offkey, and proud of it. Any musical talent she has (she also plays the violin) clearly comes from her father. It pains me to admit that, but there you go. We are now listening to the CD she took part in recording. The recording took place a few months ago. It was freezing cold. We had to take our coffee intravenously, because it was early, it was cold, and it was a long, long process. Tonight, with the report, she brought the CD home. It’s not bad. And did I mention Mollie is performing on it??? Am I proud of her? You’d better believe it! Kiddo, you have done exceptionally well, with little or no input from me! I’m out of here: I have copies of CD’s to make!!!

This is my first time. I’m so excited! Tiff from Three Ring Circus and Kim from Frog Ponds Rock have tagged me, so here goes…

Eight things I am passionate about:

1. My family. Love them madly.

2. My job. This is the first time I have EVER been able to say this. Feels good.

3. Reading. My all time favourite way to pass the time.

4. Music.

5. Chocolate.

6. Learning.

7. Drinking good wine.

8. My friends.

Eight things I would like to do before I die:

1. Travel more extensively.

2. Skydive.

3. Learn to scuba dive.

4. See my daughter become a woman, and if she chooses to have children, see them grow.

5. Learn to be more accepting of others.

6. Become more patient.

7. Learn to really ’switch off’ and relax.

8. Do further tertiary study.

Eight things I say often:

1. I love you.

2. Clean your room!

3. Are you serious?

4. Which part of ‘no’ do you not understand?

5. Oh my God!

6. Give me strength.

7. Hello?

8. Can you hear me?

Eight books that I have read recently:

1. PS I love you, Celia Ahern.

2. A painted house, John Grisham.

3. Swan Music, Sarah Harrison.

4, 5, 6, 7, 8. I compulsively borrow (and read) a couple of dozen books per month from the library. Hence, I do not take any notice of the titles. Favourite authors include Patricia Cornwell, Jodi Piccoult, Kathy Reichs, and from when I was a child, C.S.Lewis.

Eight songs I could listen to over and over (and over and over…):

1. Throw your arms around me, Hunters & Collectors.

2. Help, any version, but especially John Farnham’s.

3. Pretty much anything by the Eurythmics.

4. Everybody hurts, R.E.M.

5. Nothing compares to you, Sinead O’Connor.

6. Nessun Dorma (not sure of the spelling here), Luciano Pavarotti (God rest his soul).

7. I’m a believer, The Monkees?

8. Mrs Robinson, Simon and Garfunkel.

This is not a comprehensive list, they were the first things to come to mind. I also really, really like some Metallica, Nickelback, The Beatles, Elton John, Billy Joel, you get the idea.

Eight things that attract me to my friends:

1. Without exception, their stunning good looks!

2. Must have a wacky sense of humour.

3. Must be able to put up with me in any of my moods. 

4. Must not give a shit what others say/think (except me! Ha ha).

5. Have common values/morals (well, within reason! We’re only human…).

6. Generally, enjoy a drink or three (or more…no names, no pack drill).

7. Be able to talk all day and all night about anything, everything and nothing.

8. The ability to absolutely rip the shit out of everybody, everything, and ourselves!

Eight people who should do this….

*sobs* Not only do I not know eight people, the only ones I can think of have already done this! So, if you are reading this, and that seems unlikely, please feel free to join in the fun. And then feel free to link back to here so that I can read your post! I love this stuff. It can be hysterically funny, eerily moving and usually thought provoking to read about what appeals to other people.

The theme for today is death, death and more death. When I awoke this morning, I greeted Mollie in our usual manner, and she promptly burst into tears. Her budgie, Tapper, had fallen off his perch. She had a good howl, then we went about the serious business of notifying the relatives (Nan) and organising the funeral.

She retrieved a cardboard box from the recycling bin and went about turning it into a coffin. She painted and decorated it with stickers and glitter (!), then laid him to rest on a bed of tissues. We sticky taped the box up to deter predators, and prepared the ground for the burial. There was a solemn moment as the coffin was lowered into the ground, more tears were shed. We each quietly remembered Tapper in our own way, and bade silent farewells.

After the interment, Mollie made a floral arrangement and placed it upon the grave. We made a cross out of paddle pop sticks, she then painted it and placed it lovingly at the site. We are currently preparing a headstone out of half a brick.

We received a phone call this afternoon, informing us of the passing of our beloved Uncle Harry. At 94 years of age, he entered the hospital just over a month ago with heart trouble. He began to pick up, and was transferred last week to a nursing home. Apparently he was not overly impressed with this arrangement. It appears he may have decided to give up the fight.

Uncle Harry lost his wife several years ago, and their only child has been virtually living at the house whilst this illness has been going on. With no siblings, and no partner, this is going to be a lonely and heartbreaking time for him.

Meanwhile, how am I going to explain to my new employer that not only do I need time off for tomorrow’s funeral, I’ll also need time off for Uncle Harry’s? I think I’m the only new employee in the history of the world to need to attend 2 funerals in the first week of employment!

This has been a rather big week. Not only did a dear friend pass away, but I have also started a new job. Those of you who are familiar with my ramblings, you may remember the Claytons saga. Yesterday was my first day. It’s my first ‘graduate’ job. I’ve spent six years completing my degree (part time!), with exactly this position in mind. It’s not for everyone. I’ve been employed as a child protection caseworker, so you can use your imagination. There’s a lot to learn, and I had a lot of questions and concerns that are gradually being addressed. It’s also been a turbulent year in general, with various other things going on. I’m coming to a point, slowly.

Now, stay with me. My mother was married to my father for 23 years. It was largely an unhappy marriage, bordering, at times, on the miserable. She left him about 13 years ago, and quickly met a ‘new’ man. She has been with him up until earlier this year, at which point things were pretty bad and they agreed to go their separate ways. With that, and a few other things that were going on for her at that time, she fell into a really deep depression. Understandable. She finally sought medical treatment and has been back on track for a few months now. Around this time, she met a lovely guy. A really, really, genuinely lovely guy. I met him for the first time around a month ago, and he’s great. I’m really happy for her. Really. A couple of weeks ago, he asked her to move in with him. That was really exciting, and I shared her happiness. She deserves to be happy, as do all of us. She’s had a lot of ups and downs, and is a good person with a generous heart. So far, so good.

Now, back to my ‘big’ week. I promise you, there is a point to this, and it’s coming up really soon. I spoke to Mum earlier, and she expressed a desire to call in and see us. No problem. The fella was attending a meeting, my fella was at work, it was just us girls. I was cooking dinner, Mollie was running around doing her thing, all was well….then the bomb dropped. Mum leans over and whispers (so Mollie doesn’t hear, although, who’s kidding who? As soon as you whisper their little radars go up!) "D wants me to marry him". *Chokes* Pardon? The statement is repeated.

Hmmmm….let’s see. Just to recap. Failed marriage. Failed marriage-like relationship. Brand new, sparkling relationship….marriage? I really don’t mean to sound like a selfish, whiny child, but FOR FUCK’S SAKE PEOPLE! I’m pretty open minded. Really. I’m not naive. I’m not stupid. I don’t mind if they move in together. I don’t mind if they don’t. Whatever makes her happy. But marriage? So soon? What do other people think?