When randoms become extras

Growing up it was never just our family for dinner.  Often on Sunday nights we would have all sorts of guests over for what was usually a traditional roast.  I remember there being teachers, my parents work colleagues, extended family and friends.  I termed the nights Random Sundays.  This was owing to the fact when we rocked up for dinner we were never sure who was going to be there sharing the meal and conversation with us.

It was wonderful talking and sharing with all these interesting, inspiring people, some were down on their luck seeking companionship and relief from life’s pressures, others were full of vitality needing an opportunity to impart their energies further.  Whatever the case, we always had something to talk about.

Recently, Joe and I have been having discussions about the mark we are leaving in our world, and what we wanted to achieve.  Mum and dad’s influence obviously left a huge impression on me and I was at a point in my life where I felt i needed to give back, and do unto others.  My obvious choice was re-creating Random Sundays.

But re-creating it wasn’t enough for me, but I chose that to explore further.  Thinking about the role modelling i wanted to show our children, as well as the big life lessons I wanted to teach them, it soon led me down the path of investigating foster care.

My initial discussions with Joe weren’t all that positive.  He didn’t think it was necessary for us to go “this far” and was concerned about the negative possibilities that could result.  All I could so was that this would help us in providing our children with a real experience of helping one another, and of appreciating their life and understanding how others aren’t as fortunate.

We signed up for some information nights and Joe still wasn’t too keen.  He was happy to proceed with looking into it as long as he felt he could back out at any point through the registration process.  With this in mind, we signed him up to complete the training first.

In the ACT to be a foster carer you need to undergo and complete a Certificate IV in protective and out of home care.  Its a pretty intense course that aims to highlight the complexity, the reality and benefits and possible consequences of foster care.  You go to this and no way you can say you didn’t know what you were signing up for!

So we attended the course.  Joe finished the course a few weeks ago and my final day was today.  I think its fair to say it motivated both of us to continue on this journey.  While Joe still has his hesitations, he understands that there are vunerable children out there that need stability, consistency and love that we are in a position to provide.

We are looking at respite care.  This is for when families or foster families require a bit of a break for whatever reason.  We would receive  child into our care for a weekend a month and perhaps a week during the school holidays more or less.  Its a negotiation between the families (us and them) and allows us a some flexibility as well as a glimpse into the bigger world of foster caring and if we are indeed cut out for longer term stuff.

Its a bit daunting, a bit exciting, and quite overwhelming, but every one of those feelings feels right, like we are making the right move.  This decision has brought Joe and I closer together, forcing us to understand and agree upon our short and long term goals.  Its forced us to evaluate our own parenting styles and behaviours.

So while we may  not carry on the tradition of random sundays, we will have the experience of sharing meals with “extras” and hopefully we will be able to bring to them as much joy as the opportunity they will be bringing to us.

 

could this be turning into a chicken blog?

If you had spoken to me five, ten, years ago I don’t think I would have ever said that my dream would be to live in a self sustainable cottage with chooks and goats and gardens galore.  I can’t even think then what my dreams would have consisted of, maybe a mcmansion, three cars and holiday home? Who knows.

 

I am falling in love with my little chicklets.  They are providing me with constant distraction from the negatives going on in the world and I can’t help but feeling a little bit of calm when I venture out to sit and watch them forage.

 

 

We have names for them now.  WIth four chooks it was obvious that we would each get naming rights over one chook.  Our trouble was that they all looked the same.  Two weeks on I can instantly recognize two of them, and after a bit of watching the other two soon distinguish themselves.

Joes chook is Road Runner, aptly named for her/his speedy manouvers, forever ducking and dodging away from our  

eager hands.  A little aggressive RR is certainly the alpha chook of the pack.  Just look at his un-nerving gaze.  Standing beind him is Dante’s chook Bumblebee. Named after his favourite transformer Bumblebee is a risk taker, its the only chook to make it to the second rung on the ramp, and jumps onto the shoe box to practice his stage dives.

 

When we asked Claudia what she would like to name her chook, she replied “Bok bok bok” you know, like the noise a chicken makes.  While saying it, she also makes the little beak hand actions that are pure imitations of the little chicks.  Bok Bok is missing a lot of feathers from her backside and was the most distinguishable chook when we first took them home.  

The last, but in no way least chicken, is mine.  Little Omelette.  Omelette had the unfortunate experience of seeing the inside of Shilo the dogs jaws within half an hour of arriving at our home.  I was holding her when Shilo came up and was not prepared for his lunge and quick reflexes as he grabbed her and practically swallowed her whole.  Thankfully the feathers were an unfamiliar texture so he spat her out and I was able to rescue her straight away.  After caring and nurturing her for a few hours she seemed to make a full recovery.  Short lived I am afraid.  Sadly, poor Omelette hasn’t developed as quickly as her kin, and I have concerns how she will go over the cold winter months.  While the others have almost quadrupled in size, Omelette still remains not much bigger than when we got her.  It’s a waiting game.

 

The chooks love any opportunity to free range around the garden.  Due to their size the threats of prey (namely Shilo and the big scary Magpies lurking around) it can only be done under close supervision (I am a mother hen already).  I enjoy nothing more than sitting with them in the sunshine, watching them basking in the warmth.  These silkies are going to be spoilt I tell you!

 

Watching the kids with the chickens has been utterly delightful.  Every evening Dante reminds us to tuck the chooks in bed (currently bringing them inside to stay in a box) and every afternoon they run out the back with me to check on how they went.  Dante is learning to draw chooks – he tells me his chook has three legs, except its not a leg mum, its his penis.  right. he loves being able to hold them and at every opportunity invites the neighbours kids around to come and play with his chickens!

Claudia loves the chickens too, she is still a little bit funny about holding them in her hands (which, with her death grip I am happy to stop her from it!) She loves wrapping them up in her dress or shirt and just holding them close to her.  Any chance she can she wants to just sit in the chook pen and watch them.  Like mother like daughter huh?

 

In one more week the chicks should be big enough to brave the outdoors at night.  This will be interesting as we have heard of many people experiencing foxes and feral cats in the neighbourhood.  I hope the chicken mansion we have built will deter any pesky pests and leave our little ones to their beauty sleep.  And beauties they are, our little silkie quartet, always on hand to make us laugh, smile and enjoy the simplicities of life.

bubbles and chickens make it better

to bring you up to date with everything that has happened over the past few months would be too long, too boring and far to hard to break it down to the important stuff.

So let me tell you about what has happened over the past week.  I am moving jobs, same job, just different area.  still not sure how i feel about it all, but there you go.  change is often required to force you to reassess your life and this has certainly happened this week.  Joe and I are putting together a five year plan that certainly sees us in a very different lifestyle than the one we are in now.  interesting times ahead.

one of the things that i have helped implement in my current workplace is bubbles.  the saying bubbles make it better has never been truer.  When I sense a colleague getting stressed, down, or just tired, a few little blows of my bubble mix and smiles are abound.  There is something truly majestic  about the form, shape and colour that comes to a bubble that helps remove all that is negative, and leaves only good, happy thoughts.  A big treat for the team last week was the acquisition of a bubble machine, that really brought a whole heap of bubble love to the office!

I have had some special people move on to new opportunities recently.  While good for them, it again, reinforces the decisions (or lack there of) I am making in my life and forces me to question the changes I need to bring about for myself.

A good distraction to all of this has been the acquisition of some new family members.  We are now the proud owners of four three week old silkie chickens.  Well, maybe three and a half, you see, Shilo got a little too close to one and may have slightly tried to break its neck.  I rescued it and it seems okay, but tonight is the first night these babies are without their mama, and I hope the trauma isn’t too much for them!

We need to keep them in the pen for the first week or so until they are strong enough to survive outside.  We have a  few months until they start laying (that is, if they are hens – we are not sure of sexes yet!).

The kids are in love with the chickens, and we are currently working on naming them (although as they look the same its been a little tricky).

but life is getting better. amazing how the really crap times and feelings transform into seeing the positive side of life!

I’ve been tempted to get rid of this space. So much going on with life at the moment, so many questions to ask, not sure how to deal with stuff. You know, life.

Every time my finger has hovered over the delete button something has made me stop. Do I want to lose this space? This precious real estate that is mine to own and control and direct?

It’s become a little harder now that I am back at work, less time for blogging and more implications about what I blog about. It’s hard when you want to write, but have to censor yourself so much for the risk of exposing your true self and those around you.

Of course, I never click that button, this space means too much to me. Even though there is stuff in my back catalogue that makes me cringe, and there are few opportunities now for me to regularly write, it’s still mine, and having this little bit of the universe allows me to feel connected even when real life around me is so unconnected from what I am feeling.

So I dip my toe back into the world that calms my anxieties, soothes my soul and provides me with a blank white screen of venting space. Let’s see if I can wade deeper and discover the benefits of blogging again.

Reflections

I think its pretty normal to start getting reflective close to birthdays, christmas time and other important dates along the year.  It’s not just me right?  I start looking at what my life is, who I am as a person, what I have done so far, what I have planned for the future and I consider it.  Being the overachiever that I can often be at times, I am never satisfied.  As Sinatra sung, regrets, I’ve had a few.  But enough about the past.  What concerns me more is the future.

I am one of these people who really want to contribute to the world.  I want to not only be doing good, but living good.  It seems so far away from my current world of such money burning capitalism that it makes me sad at times to see the void between my current world and my dream world.

I have accepted that I am a dreamer, and for me to actually commit and do something in the past usually always required the support of my network, be it work, family or friends, without their persuasion and reassurance, I often get bogged down in the questions, in thinking it through too much, in over analysing what may be, instead of just doing it and finding it out myself.

So my goal, for the next 12 months, is to start stepping up.  Stop dreaming and start doing.  Surround myself with people who inspire and motivate.  Commit to doing things and see them through to the end.  To show my children a way of life that I want them to be proud of, to appreciate the life they have, and empathise with those that don’t have the opportunities they have. To nourish my soul by doing that things that give me joy, and bring joy to others.

and sew more dresses like this one:

(It’s a pattern I have done before, but new material which was horrible to work with, you can’t look too closely, but from a distance this dress rocks!)

 

 

 

I’m here…

I have just been entertaining some superheroes.

 

 

We are just getting our computer back up and running again, hopefully, some more pics and posts will be along shortly!

The ultimate gift

I can think of many things that make me proud of my sister, her resilience, humour, strength and determination, but none more than this truly selfless gift that she has offered one family.  I am so grateful she wrote this for me to share with you all, and I am sure if you have any (respectful) questions, she would be happy to answer them for you. 

 

 

 

 

I was always open to the idea, the concept, of helping others to have a family. Even before I was a mother myself I had images of being that wonderful woman who’d carry a child for someone else who just can’t possibly do it themselves (be a surrogate).

 

After my second child, I knew I would never have been able to comfortably live with that scenario. I would have been a dismal failure. One of those horrible people not able to hand over the babe. To have carried a child in my womb, where my body has nourished a life for nine months and forever carry the scars to remind myself of the time we shared together? No that was just too personal.

 

It was the advice that I was to lose my womb, the need to have a hysterectomy, that made me re-visit the giving of a family in whatever way was possible. I talked to my doctor and looked into Altruistic Egg Donation – the anonymous donation of eggs to enable a man/woman to have an embryo implanted and hopefully grow their own family.

It was an awesome dream and yes I wanted to be part of it.  The more I looked into it though the scarier it became. There were no medical coverages at this time – all costs incurred and possible complications – were at the expense of the donor. Furthermore my impending hysterectomy (at a time when I was still breastfeeding) meant I was not able to undertake the hormone treatment required. It was a dream that faded with the reality of life and the burdens of raising a family and returning to the work force. It was all just too hard.

 

Then along came some media coverage out of the blue on the topic of donating eggs and I just had to make comment on facebook. I tend to say what I’m thinking/feeling…not always a good thing. But in this instant it did good. I had two friends (husband and wife) ask me if I was joking. I said no, I was keen to donate if it felt right. They asked. I said yes this feels right.

 

Wow that decision has taken me down a road I just didn’t anticipate.

 

Here I am in the middle of a hormone cycle – nothing complicated yet, just the natural hormones given to a woman to regulate her cycle. I am currently working together with my recipient friend to be “in sync” with each other.

In a few short weeks we will commence the high hormone cycle where I will provide myself with daily injections of FSH to grow the number of eggs for the harvest. At the same time my friend will be peaking in her hormone treatment in preparation for the implantation of an embryo…and her husband is preparing himself for the embarrassing presentation of his donation in a cup!! There are some of the harsh realities you just have to laugh at!

 

The surgery is minor though there is some heavy pain expected when the ‘fullness’ of the eggs in both ovaries just before the harvest is described as being painful and similar to the initial contractions of labour, or a bad period pain. I won’t be able to run or carry my son in that week. Does it make me a bad person to think that is just the worst thing of all this?? I’m bright enough to know that this pain is just temporary – as is the inability to run and carry my boy. And so Worth it!! Though I’m sure I will be calling my sister and bemoaning my state at this time.

 

My thoughts so far into it: – the doctors visits are confusing. They often say conflicting things and there is so much involved!  The blood tests have been endless and the vaginal probing – enough said!

But then you catch the eye of the couple you are helping and they look at you, like they have never seen you before, they talk of the possibility of bringing a child into this world with such precaution and awe, you feel swallowed up by a world that is bigger than you. You are just contributing, just a mere number in the threesome that is needed.

 

I am curious how others see this experience. There are so many things that arise along the way:

How to tell your family, who to tell in your family, do you let your friends know, when do you tell people? How to explain to work the numerous absences? How to cope when it is not all going as planned? How to decide the extent of your involvement (we have been asked to stay in touch and be close/involved with the family and pending children).

 

I am hoping there is going to be joy at the end of this road, I don’t think it will be the positive glowing experience I am now experiencing should it end in failure. I think for me that would be the most difficult thing to deal with.