Are you a Troll?

When we are kids, especially after we start school, we go through fads.  You know, like, hula hoops, yoyos, tamagotchi, sudoku, pacman and trolls, to name a few.

Who remembers trolls?  Those ugly little men with the big colourful (pink, green, orange) furry hair?  You could buy them in all different sizes and even small ones with holes in their bottoms so that you could stick them on the end of your pencil or pen.  They were pretty cool, in their time, but the fad didn't last very long.

Wasn't there also a fairytale about trolls under a bridge or something, who ate people who tried to cross the bridge???  My memory fails me.

Whatever ... trolls are ugly and supposedly nasty.

Recently I learned about a new phenomenon called 'Internet Trolls'.  They, apparently, troll through the Internet looking for blogs, chat forums, Facebook comments etc., and attempt to stir up trouble by posting derogatory comments and trying to incite anger and arguments with their words.

I remember, about 8 years ago, registering with the games site 'Pogo'.  You can play all sorts of different games for free, like Keno, Bingo, Hangman etc.  Pretty innocent stuff really.  Each games room had a little panel on one side where you could chat with the other players.  I was quite addicted to this site, mostly because I had found it at a time when I was very unhappy with my life.  I found other lonely people in there and formed nice cyber-friendships.  They helped me through a tough period...but I digress...

Quite often, while in these games rooms, if we had a lively happy chat going on with a group, a stranger would suddenly appear and start trying to cause trouble.  They would pinpoint one name in the group and start calling them names, or accuse them of having done something horrible like stealing from a friend or dealing drugs to children.  Something that might make the rest of the group question  the integrity of the person named.

Sometimes their ploy worked and it would make people very angry, but luckily, there was a 'report' button and we were able to have them ejected from the room fairly quickly.

I'm just not sure I understand the mindset of Internet Trolls, who are essentially, bullies.  I don't understand bullies at all.  I don't understand people who choose to BE unhappy or choose to make OTHER people unhappy.

I also don't understand people who take the bait.  If you take the bait, aren't you satisfying the bully's desires?  If somebody sends you a bullying text message, shouldn't you delete it and ignore it?  Why would you take it one step further by responding to the message or trying to set a trap for the bully, or reacting in any way?  Doesn't that just incite more bullying?  Such wasted energy.

If you put your energy into creating a happy, peaceful life for the people who love you, for the people who you love, and for yourself, wouldn't the world be a happy place?  Isn't that what everybody wants?  To be happy?

I feel like bursting into song! ... What the world needs now, is love, sweet love.  It's the only thing that there's just too little of...

So, if you are an Internet Troll, just as an experiment, would you, the next time you find a site to harass,  consider just saying "Hullo!" and wishing everyone a happy day?

You might just make a friend or two along the way!

http://www.flayme.com/troll/



 

This is for you KG

After receiving a very kind comment about my blog today, I'm remembering with fondness, my year at Tafe in 1991.

After my marriage break-up in the mid 80s, I received income support from, what was then, Dept of Social Security, for about 4 years.  I earned some extra pocket money with a bit of fruit picking, lettuce de-hearting, pumpkin chipping and carrot sorting.  I also did some domestic and commercial cleaning.

As you can imagine, these were not the most stimulating of jobs, but I did meet some interesting international travellers out in the farm fields!  After a couple of years cleaning other people's homes, I decided to change my life path, by learning a new skill.  I was 30 yrs of age with no work experience, no goals and not much hope.

By the time I'd found my way to the Tafe College for enrolment, the only course that had any available positions, was the Cert III in Office Administration.  I was not in the slightest bit interested in this, but I figured it was better than nothing, would help ease me into 'study mode' and would hopefully keep me motivated until I could get into something more interesting the following year.

I remember my first day as being one of the more frightening days of my life.  I could not attend on  day one of the course, as planned, because I'd had some minor (well, maybe halfway between minor and major) surgery done the week before and my recovery took longer than the doctor had predicted.  I can't even remember how far into the first week, my first day was, but I was absolutely terrified!

When I got into the classroom and saw all of those young people, I wondered what the hell I was doing there, and almost talked myself into withdrawing from the class.  They were all younger than 21, most of them just out of high school and they all knew each other before coming to the class.  I felt like such an outsider!

Luckily for me, the teachers had organised some group activities for that first week, where everybody got to meet and interact with each other, and that's how I was drawn in and became one of the girls.

My beautiful girls.  They were all at that awkward, uncertain age where they were having trouble with parents, or boys, or girlfriends or their casual job employers or somebody in their lives.  I don't remember offering any life changing advice, but I do remember listening, and I think that's all they needed.

They were all so good to me and made me feel special.  We shared some good times.  Had some girl's nights out.  Giggled often.  I did chant my mantra a lot 'All men are bastards!'. (Sorry Granma)  In our English lesson, we were given 10 words each week for which we had to find the definition and then put them into a sentence.  I made sure all of my sentences were directly about men and my strong dislike for them!

For example (and I still have all of those sheets at home with my sentences on them!) one of the words was 'voodoo', so I wrote 'Every night before I go to sleep, I twist the pins in my male voodoo doll, hoping to cause pain in males all over the world'.

Even the teachers looked forward to my sentences and passed the sheets around to each other before returning them to me!

Anyway, now all of those girls have grown up and are, or are heading towards 40.  They've been married and/or divorced and they have children of their own.  When I go back to visit that town,  sometimes, I'll bump into one of them in the street and it's always great to see them and relive memories and have a giggle.

That year turns out to be one of my favourite memories in my life.  I came first in the class and finished with Distinction!  That was another pleasant surprise!

So, KG, thank you for your lovely comments today and thank you for being a part of one of my best life experiences.  You've come a long way and grown into a lovely young woman (yeah well you are still younger than me!) and I will always remember you fondly.

Oh ... and not ALL men are bastards.  (But most are!)

 

The Roller Coaster of LIfe

Some people have such high expectations of themselves.  Sometimes we think our families have much higher expectations of us than they really do.  Sometimes we feel like we can never live up to theirs, or our own expectations, and as a consequence, we can make life choices in a panic.  

At 17 years of age, I dropped out of school halfway through year 11.   Within five months I'd convinced my parents to let me leave home and move into a unit with a girlfriend from school.   Three months down the track,  I was engaged to be married and pregnant with my first child.  Within a year of leaving school, I was married with a baby.

My life seemed to be speeding out of control!  Within six years I'd had four children and a dozen different addresses in two states.  I felt like there was no way to take a breath and find some control.  Life seemed to have taken control of me and I just went with the flow.  The current got stronger and stronger and just before I was swept away to oblivion, I grabbed a branch and pulled myself free.

You would expect that by grabbing that branch, it would give me the opportunity to take stock of my life and re-evaluate.  Make some hard decisions and set myself a new path to a great future.  

Unfortunately, some of us, like me,  have to learn the hard way.  It took a few more years, but I did eventually take stock and make some better decisions for myself and my family.  Even at the age of 50 I don't always get it right.  I have a few regrets about the choices I made along the way, but I like the person who I have become, and I know that I have more lessons to learn yet.

Life is an adventure for us all.  We make mistakes.  We make bad choices.  We fall down and we get back up again.  Admittedly, some of us make more mistakes than others, but that's how we learn.  That is,  hopefully, how we become better human beings. 

As long as we learn from our mistakes, every new path that we take, gets a little less bumpy.  Every mistake that we make, builds our character and hopefully gives us empathy for others.  It hopefully erases character flaws and gives us new character traits like empathy, sympathy, humility and tolerance.

I have spent the afternoon offering the above advice to two young people.  One of them is less than 20 yrs of age and the other is less than 30, yet both consider themselves to be a failure already.  

There are lots of inspirational quotes out there that hold value, but basically you can take the good with the bad, learn from your mistakes and enjoy the roller coaster of life!  

"Drive into your future looking at the open road ahead rather than into the rear-view mirror of your past."

- Jonathan Lockwood Hule

"Any change, any loss, does not make us victims. Others can shake you, surprise you, disappoint you, but they can't prevent you from acting, from taking the situation you're presented with and moving on. No matter where you are in life, no matter what your situation, you can always do something. You always have a choice and the choice can be power."

- Blaine Lee

Old Japanese Proverb:

Fall seven times, stand up eight.

"Today is the first day of the rest of your life"

- Charles E Dederich

   

Chicklet ROCKS!!

I'm a bit excited about the 2011 football season - Rugby League that is (thinking I may have lost some readers with my opening line and pretty sure that Vegan Chickie and Bare-chested Chef have already left the blog!)

This post was going to be about the 2011 Australian NRL season, but while I was writing it, I got to have a cuddle with my little Chicklet and the cuddle lasted for well over 4 hours!

She and I chatted for most of the first hour, about her Mum and Dad, about her hiccups, about the lake that we could view from the window, about her lovely knitted stripy tights and other such important subjects.  She told me that my input was very important to her because now that she was getting older, she needed the extra stimulation to aid in her personal growth.

Then we spent about 20 minutes on some concentrated burping and farting.  These are two of her most important duties during her day and if she doesn't focus properly on these tasks, it can have a detrimental effect on her evening hours.

By the end of this 20 minutes, little Chicklet was quite worn out!  She was reluctant to go to sleep however, because she knows that her time with Bella Roz is very limited, so she desperately wants to squeeze in lots of quality time with intelligent conversation (and secretly, I think she enjoys my strong Aussie accent!).

She fought long and hard to keep her eyes open and she was quite successful for a good 20 minutes, but eventually, Mr Sandman won,  her little eyelids closed heavily and she fell into a warm, snuggly, deep sleep.

Well, to my surprise, somewhere in the last 9 days, little Chicklet has developed the wonderful skill of talking in her sleep!  Not JUST talking, but also singing, humming, moaning, groaning, buzzing, clicking, blowing raspberries, squeaking, huffing, puffing, whistling, snorting and sighing.  She also has a fabulous facial expression to go with each sound that she makes!

At one stage, when I tried to have a conversation with Vegan Chickie, little Chicklet's humming got louder and louder.  The louder I tried to speak over the top of her, the noisier her humming got!  I'm thinking she wanted my full attention ... even in her sleep!

So, our sleeping conversation included subjects like NRL football, motor bikes, helping Dad cook dinner, snuggly cuddles, her extreme cuteness, synchronised farting and snorting, the rain on the roof and cowlicks.

It was my longest stint of Grandmotherhood yet and it made me feel all warm and fuzzy for hours on end!

In conclusion, my little Chicklet is the most intelligent and advanced 9 day old child in the universe.  She is a strong forward thinker who will probably, one day, lead at least one country. She will be the saviour of the world by initiating world peace forever more and by bringing an end to world hunger.  She will single-handedly save the world's environment and she will spread the word of 'LOVE' for all to practise and embrace with overwhelming enthusiasm.  

I'm here to tell you that a 3 hour nap with Chicklet is one of the most entertaining experiences that you will ever have.

Chicklet ROCKS!!

Seven sleeps and counting

Well, my junk food day did not agree with me at all!  It was fun while it lasted, but then I got a headache from eating too much chocolate and potato chips and ice cream.  Because I don't take pain killers, I went to bed to sleep it off and lost pretty much all of Sunday.  It wasn't fun at all.  I've learnt my lesson the hard way!

Today I am feeling much better.  The Bare-chested Chef gave Chicklet  her first bath today and she loved it!  She kicked her feet in the water and looked up at her Dad with those big trusting eyes and enjoyed every moment of it.  She got a bit annoyed at the 'getting dressed' part, but settled very quickly once she had her clothes on.

Then I got to cuddle her for a long time.  The best part (and I've been told often over the years that this was the best part) was when she got hungry, squirmy and a bit noisy in my arms, I was able to hand her back to Mum!  Yay!

I have just 7 more sleeps here with my new little family.  I have loved every second of it.  I got a whole 9 days with my Vegan Chickie while The Bare-chested Chef worked and Chicklet had not yet entered the world. 

I got to share in the birthing experience of my first grandchild, which was almost as amazing as giving birth to my own children, and now I get to spend the last 2 weeks watching how the new family work together to create a new harmony in the home.

The Bare-chested Chef has taken on the role of Father and Husband with gusto and Vegan Chickie is pushing through the pain and discomfort of healing stitches,  painful hips and bleeding nipples with persistence and inner strength while keeping a smile on her face and love in her heart.

All of us with children, know how immense the changes are when the first new baby comes into our lives.  It doesn't matter how much we learn leading up the birth of our child, every day after is still an education.

The transition period going from a married couple to a family of 3 and learning to cope with the demands of a new baby is an interesting one. The broken sleep, the constant feeding, the continuous washing, the sacrifices we make with our time.  It doesn't matter how smoothly it goes, it still creates a huge mental, emotional and physical drain on our whole being.

This family has shared the load incredibly well, so the transition period, so far, has been pretty smooth.    I haven't even been needed, except for maybe a little moral support during the 'third day blues'.

I feel confident about going back home to Australia (God!  It's a whole other country!) and I know that this family is going to thrive.  They have a good support system around them (New Zealand supports it's new mothers a whole lot better than Australia does, that's for sure!) and help is just a personal phone call away.

For now, I have to get as many cuddles with Chicklet as possible, prepare myself for the break and the looming 'separation anxiety' that will follow **sad face**.

Thank goodness I have open arms awaiting my arrival home in the form of Adoring Husband, Burrum girlfriends, my old local boys, psychotic dogs and the lovely laying chookies. **happy face**

Adoring Husband has already started the countdown.



    

Short and Sweet

Today is Saturday ... almost Saturday night, and my big plan is to sit in bed and begin watching the complete set of 'Friends' dvds on my trusty computer.

The Bare-chested Chef is cooking pumpkin, sage and walnut ravioli for dinner ... another healthful gastronomic delight and he and I just drove to the supermarket and stocked up on junk food so that we can all sit back, relax and enjoy a Saturday night 'IN', all doing our own thing and feeding our faces while we're at it!

It's perfect weather for this delightful pastime - very cool and raining outside.  The clouds are low and thick around the mountains so that you can barely see where the sky and the mountaintops meet.

There are no outside parties happening because of the wet weather, so it's peaceful and quiet in the neighbourhood and the house is bursting with the aroma of roasting pumpkin and walnuts hmmhmm.

So today I am being selfish and self indulgent and leaving this very short Saturday post.  I hope you all enjoy your Saturday night, whether it be 'IN' or 'OUT'.

Until tomorrow ... stay safe.

Aiming for a different future

Yesterday,  I wanted to buy Chicklet her first 'post-birth' gift, so I walked into Queenstown.  No wonder they call Queenstown 'The Adventure Capital of the World'.  It's because there is NO SHOPPING!!

I found two baby/children's wear outlets.  Both of them had sales on and I could have bought her a little size 0000 dress which was on sale from $179 down to $117 in one of those shops.  (If anybody can explain to me why you would spend so much money on an item of clothing that won't fit your baby by next week, I would be very interested to hear it!).

I did find a little pair of pink velvet jeans at a reasonable price, which should fit her by Winter.  The other outlet also had sale items and I was able to acquire a pair purple polka dot tights and a little black dress with red and purple flowers embroidered on the front.  It's very rare to find anything for a baby girl in black!

My plan was to get something pink, lacy and frilly but Vegan Chickie and The Bare-chested Chef are not fans of 'pink for girls'  and  'blue for boys' or anything that distinguishes girls from boys.  What difference does it make what sex your child is?  How can there ever be equality when we treat our children so differently depending on whether they are wearing pink or blue?  Our daughters grow up believing that they must be pretty.  Our sons grow up believing that they must not wear pink.

Her point is not as black and white as the little information I have mentioned in that short paragraph and of course, there is so much more to it than that.

I do believe that her point is valid, though for my generation, it's difficult to get our head around it and that alone is a huge hurdle for Generation X to climb, let alone all the other feminist issues on the agenda.

I think my generation should be called the 'Confused Generation'.  I am not a Baby Boomer and I am not Generation X.  Ours was the generation that was sitting in a boat in the middle of the river when the world offered:

Option one - row to the right if you want to stay at home, have babies and take care of the house and family.

Option two - row to the left, if you want to have a career.

If we chose option two, we had to be superwoman and be prepared for war with everybody.  Half of the human race believed there was something seriously wrong with you if you chose career over family.

If we chose option one, it was an admission that we didn't think ourselves capable enough to go the distance with option two and the other half of the human race believed that you were useless, incapable and brainless if you stayed at home and raised your family.

Did I want to be  Germaine Greer or did I want to be  Mrs Brady (from The Brady Bunch for those of you wondering)?  It was one or the other.

So what does the world have in store for Chicklet's generation?

The feminists from my generation have broken down many barriers, but it's only our generation who can see great break-throughs because we experienced what it was like before.

The current generation are fighting hard to make their own break-throughs and know that they have to involve their own daughters and sons in the fight to create change and equality for future generations.

So I'm thinking that by giving our daughters and granddaughters a firmer grounding than 'Don't you look pretty in that pink fairy dress', they just might be able to strive for greater goals than 'I want to look the prettiest at my high school graduation'.

So with the help of today's feminists and feminists past, their sons and their daughters, and even re-educated 'Confused Generation' members like myself, I'm guessing that Chicklet will be aiming for a very different future than any of the generations before hers, including mine and her mother's!    


 

Love yourself and learn to live!

I'm a non-smoker ... now.

The first cigarette I ever tried was not long before my 12th birthday.  I had just moved to Perth with my family and had found a group of neighbourhood kids to hang around with.

This particular day, one of the kids said that he had something to show us, so we all followed him behind a shed in one of their back yards.  All very secretive and hushing each other as we tiptoed down the drive way, past the house where one of their mothers was baking in the kitchen.  When we arrived at the desired location, the boy slipped a brand new, sealed packet of Marlboro Reds out of his pocket.

We all gasped in admiration.  He had taken it from a carton of cigarettes which was supposedly hidden in his father's back yard work shed. It was the only place that his mother would allow his father to smoke because she didn't like the smell.

Then the boy pulled out a box of redhead matches from his other pocket.  More gasps followed.

At this point, I still had no idea that the aim of this game was for us all to smoke a cigarette.  My only experience with kids and matches, was when my neighbour's son, in the last house that I lived in, played with matches in a wardrobe and consequently burnt their house down.  To me, matches were dangerous!  I was nervously looking around us at what could catch fire and whether the house was far enough away that it was safe.

The boy unwrapped the packet.  There were 20 in the pack and there were 7 of us.  He emptied the packet onto the ground and handed each of us a cigarette.  Then we had to figure out who was going first.  We all agreed that because he had brought the cigarettes, he should light up first.  This was a huge relief to me because I was dreading my turn, and with hindsight, I think the other kids were too!

Our ages probably ranged from about 10 to 13 and the boy with the cigarettes was the oldest.  He put the cigarette into his mouth, struck the match and lifted it to the cigarette end.  It glowed orange as he sucked the flame onto it and he coughed a huge puff of smoke out of his mouth.  It smelled bad.  He whispered 'hmmm smooooth' (Seriously! He was mimicking the ad on TV!).

I have stronger memories about that boy's first puff of a cigarette than I have about my own.  I remember that it tasted bad, but we all finished our cigarettes that day and after that, every week, he would steal a packet of cigarettes and we would all have to smoke one behind the shed.  I don't remember how long we did that for, but by the time I was 13, I was stealing packets of cigarettes out of my own parent's cartons.

We had moved by then, into a new housing estate, so it was with a new group of friends that I hid inside houses in various stages of construction to smoke our cigarettes.

One day, when none of us were able to acquire any, I was feeling particularly brave and I dared to ask my mother if I could have a drag of her cigarette.  She didn't miss a beat.  She handed it to me saying 'as long as you smoke it properly.  You breathe the smoke in.'  By this stage, I had been smoking for long enough that I was a pro!

I sucked in the smoke and as I blew it out, she responded with  'ok you can have 3 cigarettes a day, but you have to promise me that you will only smoke inside your own home.  I don't want to catch you smoking outside!'

So that was my introduction to a 37 year smoking habit.

I attempted and failed to quit through all of my pregnancies.  It was my over active thyroid and subsequent visit to a naturopath in March 2008 that prompted me to quit.  I read a book called 'Allen Carr's Easy Way to Stop Smoking' and it took 2 attempts with the book, but I did it!

Three years next month and I feel better than ever.  I played a lot of sports in my time and never realised that my struggling and gasping for breath was from smoking.  I believed that everybody felt that way when they ran, swam or played hard.  It's only now, at the age of 50, that I can play a full hour of tennis and never feel short of breath and never have to gasp for air.

It's amazing!  The frustrating thing is that smokers are so addicted that they can't understand how good it is to not smoke.  They say that they enjoy it and don't want to give up but after you give it up, you realise what a big fat lie that is.

To all of those smokers out there - two of my grown children included - learn how to live smoke free.  It's much better than you can ever imagine, to be a non-smoker.

Two things I do know for certain.  You can't do it unless you want to do it.  You can't do it for anyone but yourself.

Love yourself and learn to live.

        

The voices in my head

I believe that I am emotionally stunted.

I listen to voices in my head.  I believe that everybody listens to voices in their head, but very few people have ever made the admission, even after I share this information about myself.  In fact, some people are quite offended that I should even suggest that this might be happening to them!

Perhaps I am not only emotionally stunted, but just a little bit crazy as well!!

When I feel an emotion, the voices in my head take control of it.  They talk it through, while I listen carefully, and then they put the emotion in a box and place it on a shelf on the rear wall of my inner cranium.

The voices talk about why I am feeling this emotion, who caused it, what they did to cause it, what their 'issue' is that gave them the ability to cause the emotion, what will happen if I show anybody this emotion, why I need not feel the emotion and where to put it for now until we can get rid of it.

This is not just for bad or negative emotions, but the 'out of control'  happy ones as well.

Must remain calm.  Must remain stoic.  Avoid situations that trigger extreme emotions.  Show a little bit of emotion once in a blue moon, just so that you appear human.

Mostly, this works for me.  Sometimes, like when Vegan Chickie told me that she was pregnant, I lose control a little and 'have a moment', but my moments are few and far between.

It's why I am not a fan of alcohol, drugs, doctors, hospitals (or related TV shows), extreme sports (like sky diving or bungie jumping), or other people's terminal illness.  I must be in control at all times!

Both of my parents were like that and they had no time for emotional people.  Very critical of them in fact ... except for my little sister who is a big sookie la la and shows enough emotion, good and bad, for the whole family.  I think she enjoys feeling these emotions because she does things to purposely remind herself to feel emotional - be it subconsciously or consciously.

I think I have, to a degree, passed on my stunted gene to my children.  I think they are all fighting to rid themselves of it.  I wish them luck!

As I grow older, I feel myself mellowing and I have long lost those nicknames like 'the terminator' or 'the bitch'.  In my new life, people are not so afraid of me.

I'm hoping that the coming of the golden grandchild, Chicklet, will help me loosen all of these nuts and bolts that hold me together so tightly.

My written words are oh so eloquent and insightful and articulate and I appear to be emotionally healthy.  If you hear the surprise in the voices of those who know me, after they read my posts, you realise that this is a new experience for them and they are discovering a new me!   A new human me!

So, allow me to introduce myself ... Age Challenged rQQzy ... is what's on the inside of the woman you see standing before you.  Not really so calm and not really so stoic, but always struggling to look that way.

Here, is where the voices in my head 'shut the hell up' and let me BE ME.

Thank you for listening.

I know, I'm her mother and I am biased but ...

My Vegan Chickie has been naked for almost 48 hours.  Skin on skin with baby Chicklet.  Breast feeding on demand.  It brings me great joy.  

You know when you go for a massage, and the room is dimly lit with scented candles, it's warm and the gentle music is wafting all around you while your body is slowly and gently massaged with warm oily hands?  That's what it's like being in this home.  That's the feeling.  Of course, there are none of those things here, but Vegan Chickie and The Bare-chested Chef have created an atmosphere in their home that wraps you up and massages you in and with warm, secure love.

While Vegan Chickie was experiencing 18 hours of labour - her contractions ranging from 3 minutes to 10 minutes apart - she was asking ME how I was!  "How are you coping Mum?"  "Are you ok Mum?"  "Is everything alright Mum?"  "How are you doing Mum?"

Apart from the fact that I was reliving the memories of my own labour (ouch), I was trying to stay quietly in the background.  It wasn't until right at the end when I felt that my physical presence was needed.  You know that end bit when you believe that something might really be wrong because nobody should ever have to endure this kind of horrific, uncontrollable pain unless they are dying?  

That's when you need someone to tell you that you're doing ok and that this is supposed to be happening and that it won't be long now.

I was sitting in the background wondering how the hell my beautiful daughter found the strength and the courage to firstly, go through her first pregnancy,  not even in her own country with the support of her friends and family, and secondly, complete that pregnancy with a natural home birth in a pool in her lounge room.  

Except for the fact that she was overdue, and that's why I happened to be sitting there, if the timing was different, it would have been just her and The Bare-chested Chef.

But she never wavered.  She never questioned her decision.  She knew what she wanted and it being the unconventional way, she received lots of negative feedback from lots of people of all generations and all walks of life.  Telling her, in indirect ways, and some even direct(!), how dangerous it was for her to do this and that she was putting hers and her baby's life at risk.  

Crossing the road is more dangerous than giving birth ... yet we do that every day without assistance!  

I have just deleted paragraphs and now I'm going to say instead .... don't get me started!!

She knew she wanted to do it the natural way.  No medical intervention.  She studied and investigated and researched and educated herself (and me) about everything she could ever need to know.  She knew the statistics on every possible outcome.  

She talked to scores, if not hundreds, of people who were or had been pregnant and who had experienced all kinds of pregnancies and births. She shared the highs and lows of other people's experiences, whether they were joyful or tragic, hospital or home, natural or medical, controlled or relaxed.  She was, by no means, lacking in knowledge.

She found herself a very experienced and very lovely midwife who visited her throughout the pregnancy and monitored her progress.  A midwife who respected her wishes, gave her her options and did not push her into anything she didn't want to do.  A midwife who, knowing that Vegan Chickie was a strong and capable woman, did not interfere in the birth until she received a phone call asking her to attend the home.

My daughter did all of this on her own.  I know that she found strong support from people on different birthing websites, but her true support came from within.  To me, she is amazing.  She pushed through all of the emotional road blocks and obstacles that many people put in her way and she had her baby just the way she always planned and dreamed about.

I always wanted a home birth but I always fell at the first obstacle.  How did my baby find the courage to do what I could not?

She was brilliant.  She did everything right.  She did it with strength and courage and confidence.  Mostly she did it with love.

I am so proud of myself for bringing this exceptional human being into the the world. (C'mon let me steal just a little bit of credit!)

I am overwhelmed with pride for the strong woman that she has become,  for the exceptional human being she has chosen to be and for the honest, devoted and loving friend she is to all who know her, including myself.

I know without a tiny doubt that she will be a wonderful mother and that my perfect little granddaughter is in excellent hands.

I know, I'm your mother and I am biased ... but from the depths of my heart ... I love you xx  

    

The morning after the night before ...

... and now reality sets in!  Anybody who has had a baby knows how unpleasant the first few days after childbirth are.  You know that your body is not your friend. You know how physically, mentally and emotionally drained you are. You know how difficult it is to do the smallest task and you know how desperately you want to sleep and allow your body to heal itself.

You also know how difficult that is when you don't have the perfect support system.

Vegan Chickie has the perfect support system in her Bare-chested chef.

He is my current hero.

He has cooked and kept his wife nourished with food and fluids throughout the labour, and still been at her side for every contraction.  He has single-handedly set up the birthing pool and when the hot water ran out in the hot water system, he boiled huge pots of water on the stove to finish filling the pool in readiness for the birth.

During this time, he was running back to Vegan Chickie every 5 - 10 minutes to help her through another contraction.  He single-handedly made the bed up with the various layers of bedding required, for if they chose the bed instead.

He has tirelessly practised acu-pressure through 18 hours of labour.

Even when he was at his most afraid, during the final stages of his first birth experience, he was strong and supportive and unfailing in his efforts to make this as easy as possible for Vegan Chickie.

At the end, when his beautiful wife gave that final push and his perfect daughter was born, he was overwhelmed with emotion and happiness and with tears of joy, he wrapped his arms around his family and held them close.

At that moment, it was as if they were the only 3 people in the entire universe.

When it was time to climb out of the birthing pool, he was there helping the midwife lift his wife and baby out of the murky water.  He sat right by his wife's side as the midwife checked his daughter over and weighed her.  He then sat for over an hour on the couch holding his daughter in his arms and staring lovingly at her face while his wife was taken into the bedroom for stitches and checking over.

With all the mess that goes with that, even though he was worried, he remained calm and took care of his daughter.

After Mum and baby were re-united, he then made food for his wife and after she was taken care of, he had to empty the birthing pool and clean up all that goes with giving birth at home.

Never did he complain and always, he had a smile on his face like this was his 'calling' and he was happy that his family were relying on him to be their rock.

Today, after just a few short hours sleep, he has done more cleaning, gone to the supermarket for Vegan Chickie's and Chicklet's requirements, changed his daughter's first nappy, nursed his wife and helped her to the bathroom and cleaned up all the messes along the way.

Now he is in the kitchen preparing their first cooked meal of the day.

He is an amazing man and he just oozes love whenever he is near Vegan Chickie and Chicklet.  I consider myself blessed to have someone like the Bare-chested chef to take care of my family.

I know I said in my last post that I was going to talk about the birthday (with hindsight) but I just needed so badly to tell the world about my hero son-in-law.  I have always thought very highly of him, but now I have him on a pedestal and I have a renewed love and respect for him.

So, on the morning after the night before, I have 2 reasons to rejoice!   I have a perfectly wonderful brand new little Granddaughter and I have perfectly wonderful son-in-law to love her and be her father.

Life is good :o)

Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?

Just over 30 yrs ago I gave birth to my oldest daughter, Vegan Chickie.  It was a drug free natural birth in a hospital.  I would have liked a home birth, but I was young and easily discouraged.

As I write this, I am sitting in the corner of Vegan Chickie's lounge room as she is in the early stages of labour with her first child.  Hers will be a home water birth and the birthing pool is sitting, pride of place, in the middle of the lounge room.  The Bare-chested chef is cooking vegan hotdogs!

I booked my flight to arrive 10 days past her due date, to give them time to bond with the new baby before I arrived ... I arrived 10 days ago!  I really shouldn't be here for this!

I'm not exactly sure how I'm feeling at this point.  A little bit like I'm intruding on such a special event in their lives,  incredibly excited to be a part of it and reluctant to watch my baby experience the pain of childbirth.

The Bare-chested Chef is so excited.  He is glowing and has a twinkle in his eyes, which reminds me of the day he married my Vegan Chickie.  He is very busy organising.  Setting up the birthing pool to be filled at a later time.  Making up their bed with all the special layers required for having babies in beds (if that's where they end up).  Setting the heater in place ready to create a warm environment to which the baby can enter.

Meanwhile, I sit here, typing away and trying to be inconspicuous.  Wondering if I should offer my assistance, but thinking that he is needing this to help the time pass between contractions and to feel useful. (I think I will go scrub the bathroom very soon!)

I am timing the contractions - that is my way of being useful at this time.  I am also official photographer, so I guess I have another good use!

So now it's the waiting game.  The oh so long minutes between contractions.  The oh so long minutes during contractions.  Me trying to ease the pain by 'willing' some of it over to this side of the room.

Time to take a break from here ... I will be back soon!

Well, here we are 5 hours later and things are progressing nicely.  I feel less anxious.  Everybody is calm and relaxed.  Vegan Chickie is doing beautifully and the Bare-chested chef is coping very well.

More hours have passed, things are a little more intense and I am so amazed at these two beautiful people and how  they are handling this together ... they are a wonderful team and are really supporting each other.

The home atmosphere is so much more relaxed and infinitely better than the sterile hospital with the  demands of impersonal nursing staff.  Doing it all in their own way, at their own pace with low lighting, soft music and the gentle sound of their own loving voices.

A storm passed over with some thunder and lightning and the gentle rain on the roof - soothing for us all.

Pamela, the midwife is now on her way.  I will come back when the baby comes.

Well!  After 18 hours, my beautiful baby girl now has a beautiful baby girl of her own!

I am in awe of them both and how they supported each other through this day.  We are all exhausted, but happy and healthy.

Tomorrow, after some much needed rest, I will post my thoughts (with hindsight) about this marvellous experience.

We are there.  We did it.  Vegan Chickie is a Mum.   The Bare-chested chef is a Dad.  I am a Grandmother.

Now ... we sleep.      

Just a lazy teenager at heart

Let me qualify my heading by saying that I don't think ALL teenagers are lazy!

Yesterday, Vegan Chickie asked me if I was bored.

Vegan Chickie is a thousand months (slight exaggeration) pregnant and understandably finds it difficult to move further than 20 mtrs before requiring a nap (another slight exaggeration), so we are spending lots of time at home on the couch, both with our laptops in front of us and playing facebook Scrabble with each other.

Vegan Chickie works from home and also has a widespread cyber community that she is a part of,  so is a bit more productive with her laptop than I am!

So... being so far away from home, I'm out of my usual routine.  I usually pace my week out with a good range of physical activities.  Monday - golf.  Tuesday - tennis.  Wednesday - aqua aerobics.  Thursday - indoor bowls.  Friday - golf.

Every morning around 6.30am I ride my trusty red tricycle to the bakers, where I buy a take-away skinny cappuccino and then I ride to the boat ramp where I sit at a picnic table with a few of the old locals for an hour or two.  These locals are all over 70 yrs of age, so I hear lots of historic stories about the area where I'm now living, lots of current gossip and lots of utter bulldust!!

It's my favourite way to start the day.  We sit right by the river under a giant fig tree.  They are always happy to see me and I'm guaranteed at least one good belly laugh every morning!

Afterwards, I ride to the Post Office to check my mail, stop at the supermarket for any necessities and then off I go home.

By this time, it's still only 9.30 am.  I fill my day, aside from the sports which uses up between one to three hours of the day, with a bit of housework (but not much because I am a bare necessities kind of girl), a bit of gardening (also bare necessities), a bit of cooking (either breakfast, lunch or dinner), a bit of jewellery making, a bit of television (NOT soapies) and a LOT of time on my laptop.

I literally had to force myself to create this routine in my life because otherwise,  honestly, I am like a lazy teenager.  I would sleep til 10 am or later every day, probably stay in my pyjamas, sit at my computer eating junk food and showering only when I couldn't cope with my own body odour any more!

So, Vegan Chickie, to answer your question "Are you bored?"  ABSOLUTELY NOT!  I am living part of my fantasy life ... sleeping in every morning (I am lying in bed, in my pyjamas, at 10.30am as I write this) and sitting on the couch all day with my laptop!  I am having a lovely self-indulgent time!

However, considering this non-active lifestyle ... there will be no more Tim Tams, Chicken chips or that lovely New Zealand Hokey Poky ice-cream!!



 

Romancing the Vegetarian in you

Meat and two veg was always the theme at our dinner table while I was growing up, aside from the occasional spaghetti bolognese.  

Lunch was always a sandwich with devon, ham, silverside, roast lamb or processed chicken and it was accompanied by cheese or salad.  

A cooked breakfast always included bacon, ham or sausages.  

A meal wasn't a meal if it didn't have meat!

And so, people of my generation and older, equate 'vegan/vegetarian' with 'rabbit food'.  Today I am here to attempt to dispel that myth.

I am in New Zealand staying with my VERY pregnant daughter (aka Vegan Chickie) awaiting the arrival of my grandchild (aka Chicklet).  You can probably tell by her name, that her diet is vegan, although since she became pregnant, her food aversions have meant that, temporarily,  vegetarian is her diet of choice.

Needless to say, for the past 8 days, my diet has also been vegetarian/vegan and  I am  pleasantly surprised by how good my body feels.  

My head feels less 'fuzzy', although I didn't realize my head WAS fuzzy until it wasn't!   My body feels less heavy and bloated, likewise, I didn't realize it felt that way until now.  I also feel more energetic ... and that's after just 8 days.   

Vegan Chickie's husband (aka Bare-chested Chef) is, as the name suggests, a chef, and between them, their culinary skills are of the highest order.  

My vegetarian diet has been more scrumptious than you can imagine!  I feel like I have been missing out on this magical experience all of my life because I placed so much importance on meat.  Such a huge range of menus to choose from with many and varied ingredients.  The colours, the textures, the flavours and the aromas emanating from that kitchen!  A gastronomic delight!

If I have piqued your interest or curiosity then I suggest you try this fabulous website http://veganchickie.com/ and I promise that you will fall in love and have a number of these recipes as your weekly favourites.

Even my husband, who can eat the biggest piece of steak in the world and call it an entree (thank you Sharna for the descriptive), drools over the Leek Mushroom Lentil Samosas.  Personally, I'd like to recommend the Vegan Chocolate Tart (see Dec 2009 in archives).

Soon, you too, can be ROMANCING the vegetarian in you!

fbomb is worth a look!

I'm loving fbomb and the insightful ramblings of teenage feminists, full of enthusiasm, energy and commitment to the cause.

I think I'm now a blogger!

Life is mostly froth and bubble
Two things stand like stone
Kindness in another's troubles
Courage in your own

My mother, Judy, wrote that in my autograph book before she gave it to me.  It was a gift for a birthday or christmas or something.  I had no idea what the hell those words meant, but I was very excited to have an autograph book and my mind went crazy imagining all of the famous people who would sign it.

After about 6 months I had names like Rod Stewart, Peter Frampton, Freddie Mercury, Marc Hunter, David Cassidy and Bon Scott in my autograph book.  None of them were real signatures ... I had scribbled them in myself.  Isn't that what young girls do when their dreams don't look like becoming reality?

Sometimes, as a 15 yr old, I would lie in bed at night and imagine that I was in my death bed.  All the famous people would visit me to say goodbye and tell me how much they loved me and would miss me.  Peter Frampton would kiss me tenderly and declare his undying love for me.  Rod Stewart would lie beside me and wrap his arms around me lovingly and kiss my forehead.  All of them had tears in their eyes as they left my room.

Was that normal for teenagers of my generation?  Should my parents have considered therapy?  Is there anybody out there from my generation (or any generation for that matter!) with similar freakish thought patterns?

Judy passed away suddenly almost 6 years ago.  After reading this she would have looked at me and slowly shaken her head.  She would have said 'Sometimes I wonder about you Roz'.  I miss her.

Now I am passing the time in New Zealand awaiting the birth of my first grandchild and Judy's first great-grandchild.  She would have been right here with us, still complaining about the autograph book that I ruined with my scribble, but oh so excited about a new member of the family!