I always thought I would need a bit of a re-entry period on Australian roads after spending two years driving up and down the same roads at an average speed of 50km per hour in PNG. And even in my seemingly unacclimatised state, I understood that driving at that speed everywhere in Australia would not be the right thing to do.
So, to blend in and drive like my countrymen, I have been doing the full speed-limit, even though it terrifies me. On the odd occasion that I have been between 0-5 km under the speed limit, I have had a helpful bonnet up the ass of my car to remind me this is simply not done. Thanks Canberra drivers.
This, I expected.
What has surprised me somewhat though, is that I seem to have lost comprehension of traffic lights. I would happily sail through a red if it wasn't for terrified passengers screaming at me to stop. This, I also know is a 'shortcoming' in my general driving skill set. I'm more big-picture when it comes to lights, and am usually concentrating on something five blocks ahead.
This, I also knew about myself (on a deeper level that I rarely explore honestly).
Two days ago, I came to a full stop on approach to a green light, and stayed there while the light remained happily green. I think I was trying really hard to take each set of lights as they came, and not overlook important messages.
This is new.
And not very good.
Unbelievably, there was no concerned citizen sitting behind me screaming soundlessly from their 80 thousand dollar Commodore as there so often is. Again, it was up to my passenger to alert me to the green-ness of the light.
I carefully accelerated and proceeded to the next set of lights, in a bit of a state.
My Mum has now told my daughter to help me at the traffic lights. Thanks team.
Only a few weeks ago, it was me teaching her about the meaning of red and green. In a few short days I have lost any credibility I may have had, and now sit back and take tutorship from the one who knows best.
At least I know my limits.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Saturday, October 22, 2011
The home stretch
Our baby is coming soon, and we have entered the final leg of the up-the-duff journey. With four or five weeks at most remaining, the anticipation/anxiety is building. Why anxious? I am plagued with fear that I will have to deliver baby alone in shower while my two year old looks on wide-eyed and terrified. Horrific. If I could seal the exit area with gaffer tape until such time as Daddy-O arrived in the country to join us, I would.
To counter these fears in the interim, I have modified my nine month preggers walk (limping, hunched, waddle-like ... not what you would see at fashion week, for instance) - to include a supportive and firm hand at the base of my bump. This lets the little one know that while we eagerly await its arrival, we are not quite ready. As they told me at pre-natal yoga (last time around, no such indulgences this time) ... "bonding begins in the womb". Indeed it does, and my message is loud and clear - the door is not open for you yet, my child.
In other news, it has only taken me 36 weeks to realise that turning sideways no longer enables me to slip through small enclosed spaces, like between seats and tables at a restaurant for example. Gee, I really kept that up for much longer than was spatially appropriate and have swatted many a head and cornice with my ever growing (and dropping) bump. Sideways = wider. Repeat to self.
I bought a dress today from my favourite shop in Lennox Head .... http://www.rileyburnett.com/gallery/index.html
I need things that move, and do not touch me in any way. The guy tried to talk it up, from a fashion point of view, but I felt I had to describe it as 'sufficiently sack like'. Let's be honest. My bump was between us like an additional shelf unit at the time of the sale ... I will be ready to talk about fashion again in about five months from now. He still threw in some free hairclips for my little lady which was nice (and he was obviously unbothered by her parading around the shop wearing various bangles and holding a clutch under her armpit). I must admit, I was quite proud of how she held the clutch - how does one figure this stuff out?
Last night in the shitfight (there is no other word for it) of getting this over-tired two year old ready for bed (bath, pyjamas, teeth, comb hair, read book, apply cream to sore bits, nappy) with just myself and my bump for company, the time came for me to give her a hard lesson in the facts of life. With lightening speed (quite amazing since she was much too tired to coordinate or focus on anything else AT ALL) she snatched her toothbrush from me "I WILL BRUSH TEETH BY MYSELF", threw it in the toilet, and flushed it away, before I could put my hand in to get it out (yes, I did actually contemplate doing this ... for environmental reasons not because I thought it was okay for her to reuse it after a dust-off!). Oh I was angry!
Her little blue eyes stared up at me, she burst into tears and then said she wanted it back. There was no sympathy from my corner. Only some words outlining the huge ring of plastic crap that swirls around and around in a far-off corner of the Pacific Ocean. There, her blue train toothbrush would end up. And a big beautiful fish would think it was food and eat it and probably die.
I think the message got through, her eyes were downcast, and she contemplated my wisdom that her actions have "far greater consequences" than just the immediate. We are all part of the world and our personal choices should not be seen as isolated from bigger environmental .... blah blah blah. She was asleep in about five minutes. I hope I didn't bore her too much.
Never too young to learn about the cycle of the universe!
Until next time ... I will be finishing off my uni semester (even though I can really no longer read or write and am desperately seeking opportunities to simply lie down and rub my belly), and repeating my new mantra ... stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in.
To counter these fears in the interim, I have modified my nine month preggers walk (limping, hunched, waddle-like ... not what you would see at fashion week, for instance) - to include a supportive and firm hand at the base of my bump. This lets the little one know that while we eagerly await its arrival, we are not quite ready. As they told me at pre-natal yoga (last time around, no such indulgences this time) ... "bonding begins in the womb". Indeed it does, and my message is loud and clear - the door is not open for you yet, my child.
In other news, it has only taken me 36 weeks to realise that turning sideways no longer enables me to slip through small enclosed spaces, like between seats and tables at a restaurant for example. Gee, I really kept that up for much longer than was spatially appropriate and have swatted many a head and cornice with my ever growing (and dropping) bump. Sideways = wider. Repeat to self.
I bought a dress today from my favourite shop in Lennox Head .... http://www.rileyburnett.com/gallery/index.html
I need things that move, and do not touch me in any way. The guy tried to talk it up, from a fashion point of view, but I felt I had to describe it as 'sufficiently sack like'. Let's be honest. My bump was between us like an additional shelf unit at the time of the sale ... I will be ready to talk about fashion again in about five months from now. He still threw in some free hairclips for my little lady which was nice (and he was obviously unbothered by her parading around the shop wearing various bangles and holding a clutch under her armpit). I must admit, I was quite proud of how she held the clutch - how does one figure this stuff out?
Last night in the shitfight (there is no other word for it) of getting this over-tired two year old ready for bed (bath, pyjamas, teeth, comb hair, read book, apply cream to sore bits, nappy) with just myself and my bump for company, the time came for me to give her a hard lesson in the facts of life. With lightening speed (quite amazing since she was much too tired to coordinate or focus on anything else AT ALL) she snatched her toothbrush from me "I WILL BRUSH TEETH BY MYSELF", threw it in the toilet, and flushed it away, before I could put my hand in to get it out (yes, I did actually contemplate doing this ... for environmental reasons not because I thought it was okay for her to reuse it after a dust-off!). Oh I was angry!
Her little blue eyes stared up at me, she burst into tears and then said she wanted it back. There was no sympathy from my corner. Only some words outlining the huge ring of plastic crap that swirls around and around in a far-off corner of the Pacific Ocean. There, her blue train toothbrush would end up. And a big beautiful fish would think it was food and eat it and probably die.
I think the message got through, her eyes were downcast, and she contemplated my wisdom that her actions have "far greater consequences" than just the immediate. We are all part of the world and our personal choices should not be seen as isolated from bigger environmental .... blah blah blah. She was asleep in about five minutes. I hope I didn't bore her too much.
Never too young to learn about the cycle of the universe!
Until next time ... I will be finishing off my uni semester (even though I can really no longer read or write and am desperately seeking opportunities to simply lie down and rub my belly), and repeating my new mantra ... stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Me and the compound = through. For now.
I'll be the first to admit that I have spent large chunks of this year fantasising about leaving the compound for a few months. Now the time is almost here, I am feeling well - a touch apprehensive.
What the hell has happened to me?
Without wanting to go too deep, I can only conclude that I have made the transition; this being the shift from constantly wanting to leave, to never wanting to leave my safe bubble.
People - I did not see this coming, not for a second.
The predictability of my days, the innumerable aunties, the pool, the assured time alone in the house from 9am-11am every day, the tick tock of routine, the salute from the guards on entry (have become especially accustomed to this), the happiness of my little girl, and the space to study and think ... what can I say? It's a pretty nice life plan at the minute.
I will miss the ladies especially, as will my little lady. Her aunties love her so much, and the maternal vibe is palpable. I will also miss the second pair of loving arms to pick up my 13kg angel every day, as my belly grows out, that spare pair of arms have become critical to my continued muscular health.
I have slowed down, as a result of the third trimester, but also because of PNG. I like it.
I love driving at 50 in the overtaking lane.
I don't mind standing in line for 15 or so minutes while five different ladies try to change the register roll.
I don't mind entering my PIN 8 times before the lady realises the eftpos machine is not plugged in.
I am happy to site behind a ute spewing black smoke with 3 generations perched precariously on the back tray.
How will we cope in Australia? The roads already scare me, I am going to have to dig out the range of anti-tailgating bumper-stickers I designed some time ago for protection. Further, I am going to have to channel my inner passive-aggressive to hold my own at the supermarkets in Civic. On the upside, I am also going to 'have to' enjoy the Australian coast over summer, and 'have to' chow down on a wheel of the finest brie just as soon as numero dos makes an entrance to the world.
Farewell PNG, land of the slow sunshine-filled smiles, and (a slightly guarded) hello to Australia, land of plenty (of soft cheese) and crazy drivers.
What the hell has happened to me?
Without wanting to go too deep, I can only conclude that I have made the transition; this being the shift from constantly wanting to leave, to never wanting to leave my safe bubble.
People - I did not see this coming, not for a second.
The predictability of my days, the innumerable aunties, the pool, the assured time alone in the house from 9am-11am every day, the tick tock of routine, the salute from the guards on entry (have become especially accustomed to this), the happiness of my little girl, and the space to study and think ... what can I say? It's a pretty nice life plan at the minute.
I will miss the ladies especially, as will my little lady. Her aunties love her so much, and the maternal vibe is palpable. I will also miss the second pair of loving arms to pick up my 13kg angel every day, as my belly grows out, that spare pair of arms have become critical to my continued muscular health.
I have slowed down, as a result of the third trimester, but also because of PNG. I like it.
I love driving at 50 in the overtaking lane.
I don't mind standing in line for 15 or so minutes while five different ladies try to change the register roll.
I don't mind entering my PIN 8 times before the lady realises the eftpos machine is not plugged in.
I am happy to site behind a ute spewing black smoke with 3 generations perched precariously on the back tray.
How will we cope in Australia? The roads already scare me, I am going to have to dig out the range of anti-tailgating bumper-stickers I designed some time ago for protection. Further, I am going to have to channel my inner passive-aggressive to hold my own at the supermarkets in Civic. On the upside, I am also going to 'have to' enjoy the Australian coast over summer, and 'have to' chow down on a wheel of the finest brie just as soon as numero dos makes an entrance to the world.
Farewell PNG, land of the slow sunshine-filled smiles, and (a slightly guarded) hello to Australia, land of plenty (of soft cheese) and crazy drivers.
Figure 1.0 - One of several anti-tailgating
bumper stickers soon to be sported on a road near you (in Canberra).
Monday, October 3, 2011
Two.
Our little lady had her second birthday party over the weekend. It was so much fun to sense her anticipation, decorate the house, prepare food of outrageous colours, help her get dressed into her special party frock and then hold our breath and hope some people came.
Once the party was in full swing, our house was wall-to-wall people, and the two hours became a blur of pastries in and out of the oven and various kids asking me for stuff with blue/green/red stained mouths. I lost track of time, and often the birthday girl. At various moments I hoped to myself someone was showing her a good time.
At 45 minutes in (I thought it had been at least 90), I caught the birthday girl quietly heading upstairs to play by herself. It was a little bit heartbreaking, not least because I completely understood where she was coming from, but I had to gently coax her down. I put her on a loving lap with some cake on the side and got back to the pastries.
The look on her face told me that the birthday cake had to be rolled out ahead of schedule. I started rounding up kids, and just as soon as I did, they slipped through my net and disappeared into the bushes again, screaming and eating those crazy sherbet things I gave them (gee I hope they did not cause permanent staining/facial tattooing).
Happy Birthday was led by me, I hope the strain in my voice wasn't too evident, and the birthday girl stood there looking a bit stunned by the audience and the noise. This girl is a cake lover from way back, but I must say - seemed a little underwhelmed by it all and didn't even eat any.
Oh well - that's kid's parties for you. A lot of work, an emotional roller-coaster for the subject, a mildly trashed house, frosting stained furniture and no memory of what happened once it ends. Some things about parties remain constant throughout life ....
Here's our girl at two hours in, this photo says it all for me.
Once the party was in full swing, our house was wall-to-wall people, and the two hours became a blur of pastries in and out of the oven and various kids asking me for stuff with blue/green/red stained mouths. I lost track of time, and often the birthday girl. At various moments I hoped to myself someone was showing her a good time.
At 45 minutes in (I thought it had been at least 90), I caught the birthday girl quietly heading upstairs to play by herself. It was a little bit heartbreaking, not least because I completely understood where she was coming from, but I had to gently coax her down. I put her on a loving lap with some cake on the side and got back to the pastries.
The look on her face told me that the birthday cake had to be rolled out ahead of schedule. I started rounding up kids, and just as soon as I did, they slipped through my net and disappeared into the bushes again, screaming and eating those crazy sherbet things I gave them (gee I hope they did not cause permanent staining/facial tattooing).
Happy Birthday was led by me, I hope the strain in my voice wasn't too evident, and the birthday girl stood there looking a bit stunned by the audience and the noise. This girl is a cake lover from way back, but I must say - seemed a little underwhelmed by it all and didn't even eat any.
Oh well - that's kid's parties for you. A lot of work, an emotional roller-coaster for the subject, a mildly trashed house, frosting stained furniture and no memory of what happened once it ends. Some things about parties remain constant throughout life ....
Here's our girl at two hours in, this photo says it all for me.
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