December 2014

Emma, today on Facebook, your family has been posting photos of you in honour of the fact it’s been 20 years since you left us. Of course it’s been 20 years! Bloody hell, how did I not know that? I left Australia a few months after your funeral, which means I’ve been wandering for 20 years – that’s a lot of life I’ve wanted to share with you my friend. A photo of the photo I’ve had with me for the last 20 years. The “Inghams Chicken Saga” photo. I think we were 19? When I found out you died, I couldn’t get my head around it. None of us could. How could you be gone? How could your baby girl grow up without you loving her as beautifully as you did? It was too much to bare, too, too much. Your wake was the worst experience I’ve had. None of us could grasp life without you in it. We cried and laughed that day, but our laughter had a bitterness to it. We didn’t want to face up to the fact you wouldn’t be around anymore, being a bloody dickhead, making US laugh. No, not you my friend. I went to Nepal a few months after your funeral. When I got to the final point on my hike, way up near the Tibetan plateau, I sat there and had a conversation with you. I said “Emma, can you see what I can see? Isn’t it bloody beautiful? This world is a remarkable place” and then I went on to make a commitment to you, which I hold to this day. I promised you I wouldn’t waste any time living with regrets and always aim to live life larger than most people dare to dream. I’ve stumbled on that commitment over the years, but more often than not, I’ve held true to it, because your death taught me that life was unbearably valuable. I appreciate that. When I look at all the photos being shared today, I go back into so many memories, from the age of five all the way to 24. When we were little (you at 47 Vermont St, me at 66), we played dolls or we fought – as all girls seemed to do. Remember the time you ripped my First Communion necklace off my neck on the bridge? I didn’t like you then. We kept that up for a few years didn’t we? Remember the fence we used to sit on in front of Wodonga Hospital? With Claire and Phillipa? Well it’s gone now, they ripped it down. That was weird. Shit we did some talking there didn’t we… hours and hours of talking. At Claire’s wedding. Your style was always unique Then we went to separate high schools and you made a new BFF as I did, but it didn’t matter. We were always close, always there for each other, always dreaming, comparing boob sizes (I always won that one), dreaming of future men, dreaming of escaping Wodonga, just dreaming about the endless possibilities life could throw our way. I never dreamed you wouldn’t be there though, that wasn’t a dream I ever had. You were always part of my future, always. You shared a dream with me once. It was a dream you had about me. I was on stage with a man by my side and I always remembered that dream, because you explained it so vividly, explaining the man in complete detail. The man you explained is Steve. The stage bit hasn’t happened but fuck, I wish you could meet him. He would LOVE you and you would love him. I can’t tell you how many times I say to him, I wish you met Emma. She’d make you laugh until you pissed your pants. You had that my friend. You complete irreverence for bollocks was always something I loved. I said it to him again today. He said “I know babe, I wish I did too,” with such sincerity. I speak about you a lot. You live on in a lot of people’s memories my darling. And of course my boys. They would have adored their Aunty Emma, and I wish they got to meet you too. In fact, there have been too many experiences, too many moments, too many people, and too many dreams achieved that I wanted to share with you – those same dreams we dreamed up all those year ago that came to pass in one way or another. I know you would’ve loved hearing those stories, as I would’ve loved hearing yours. Twenty years Em, 20 years and there’s still such a huge void in so many people’s lives, including mine. You were a special lady my friend, larger than life, and a filthy bloody bitch who I adored. I still can’t watch Beaches or Steel Magnolias without turning into a complete bloody mess mourning my great childhood friend. In fact, my mourning of your passing has never ceased and today, it happens all over again. You bloody moll!! I miss you mate. I’ll always miss you. You were truly magnificent. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

So my Grandma died peacefully in her sleep last night. She was going to be 105 in March. A phenomenal length of time to live when you think about it (born in 1910!) and I often wanted to ask her why she chose to keep going – because it was definitely her choice. Maybe she was looking forward to her next grandchild’s wedding, or the birth of her next great grandchild? Then again, she could have been hoping to be around for her first great great grandchild? I don’t know why, but one thing I do know is, it was obviously Grandma Tot that gave me the ‘I-never-want-to-be-first-to-leave-a-party’ gene. Grandma Tot on her 100th Birthday Grandma Tot is the only grandparent I ever had. The other three died before I was born. Since Mum called this morning, it’s made me incredibly reflective about her life and the influence she had on me. I expect everyone in my extended family is feeling the same way. As a kid, she scared the living shit out of me. She used to chase my siblings and I around her impeccably kept garden with a bat, smacking us on the arse for being brats – they were the days. But I also remember the smells of grandma’s house and the tables full of aunts, uncles and squirming grandchildren on Christmas Day. It was chaotic but always a lot of fun. I remember the day she proudly cooked a bull’s tongue in front of me – ugh – the first and last time I saw that! The old coins in the Christmas Pudding, exchanged for current currency so we could run down to the corner store to buy lollies – score. Her scones with jam and cream were always a welcome delight after driving more than 300KMs to visit – often with us sitting in the back of a hot, sweaty Datsun – definitely appreciated. Cedele hairspray is grandma’s smell. Loudly ticking alarm clocks are grandma’s sound. Playing cards, watching the cricket, her beloved Geelong Cats, tapestry, the BEST homemade pickles… they all belong to Grandma. She was an incredibly strong and independent lady – she had to be – and was definitely the first matriarch of my life, closely followed by my mother. As my Mum ruled the roost in her own special way, I know she got it from Grandma. Strong, independent women are definitely in my family lineage. Grandma was born into a time when life was hard, and that heaviness is something I always saw her carry through life. It was such a different generation – especially for women. But I also remember times when she  lit up with joy. I didn’t see this often, because she just wasn’t like that, but I do remember the moments when she giggled like a school girl. Magic. My Mum, Aunts and Uncle at Totties 100th  But on this day, when I heard the news of her passing, I went back to the blog I wrote after her 100thb’day and read it again. I asked her for some life advice, and well today, maybe someone new will read it. So here is Grandma Totties’ life advice for anyone who is interested.  Q1. What do you think is the meaning of life? The meaning of life is to keep God in your life because sooner or later we will all have to give an account of our life when we meet God face to face. Q2. What have you learnt in your 100 + years? To treat people as you would like them to treat you To help the underprivileged – e.g. Totties’ chooks in Mannya that I sponsored and the worming program for the village children, both in Uganda. I have done this sort of thing all through my life To keep up with your religion – please don’t think that I am telling you what to do Save some money for a rainy day so you won’t have to depend on other people in your old age Q3. If you could give your children, grandchildren and great grandchildren any advice on life, what would you say? Live a good life, don’t take drugs, smoke or abuse alcohol and then you can die with no regrets Always pay your way and don’t rely on credit cards – I have always paid cash for what I want Keep God in your life and remember what you were taught as a child, the world might change but God doesn’t There’s some good, solid life advice in here, although I think Grandma’s idea of God is very different for many of us today, and I certainly won’t be re-joining the Catholic Church based on the above. However, I’m pretty sure my grandma won’t be disappointed with my idea of religion – and that is to be a good person in the world, doing the right thing by everyone I meet. That’s what religion has come to mean to me. Grandma’s advice obviously comes from a pre-World War One baby, and when I asked her these questions, I thought it was important to share, because I currently live in a society that values its elders – Asia’s good like that. In Australia (and much of the developed world) we forget that our oldies might have something to say that’s worth listening too, so to show respect for an elder, I pass on her advice again today. Whether you’re facing your God right now Grandma, or just finally resting in peace, I must say, a jolly good innings Tottie. Well done. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

Steve has been away since the beginning of November. Not completely. He does a week, comes back for a few days, another week, and so on. But now it’s been a two week trip and he won’t be home until Tuesday – that means two weekends, which always makes it feel longer. Steve has always traveled with his job and it’s usually fine, but it’s been more intense lately and I’m turning into an unhappy bitch. The main reason? Well if you combine his intense travel schedule with me starting a new job – where you’ve got to show up, be on the ball, hopefully impressing your new colleagues along the way – AND attend Christmas/end-of-year festivities for grown-ups and the kids – well Steve not being here isn’t a lot of fun, for him either. Vick is here (HALLELUJAH!), but only for a wee while longer, and Jona as well – both amazing women, who love our boys, and couldn’t do enough for them. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: we couldn’t do what we do without their help. However, since the boys were born, Steve and I have both thought it’s important they know they’re the center of our world, and that means getting home in time to have dinner with them, being there in the morning to hug them off to school, and being available when their little hearts are broken, and they just need extra love and attention. That’s hard to do without Steve around. It’s been crazy-busy for both of us these last couple of months, and it’s absolutely killing me. If Steve is home, it’s OK, the guilt isn’t so bad, but when he’s not and I’m not home, well I do my head in – I can’t help it. I’ve been like that ever since becoming a mother. All of it just makes me so bloody tired though, because guilt is exhausting. As we’re now getting towards the end of Steve’s longest trip, I’m definitely starting to get pretty cranky with it all – towards Steve and with the boys. I’m getting curt on the phone now, because our opportunity to speak is always so limited based on time zone differences, and what’s convenient for him is not always convenient for me, and vice versa. But it’s more than that. I starts to get boring. I don’t want to speak to him on the phone. I want to speak to him in person. I’m bored with the same SMS’s I send every day – have a great sleep, I miss you, I love you, have an amazing day…. It’s becomes same-old same-old within a week, so by two weeks, I’m out of ideas. And I’m sick of us all missing each other. Enough already. Seriously, I know that people who don’t get to do a lot of travel (especially with their work) often think it all sounds rather glamorous, but the reality is very far from that. It’s not glamorous for the traveler, and it’s certainly not a lot of fun for those staying at home the other end of the phone line. It’s hard and lonely and exhausting and more, but in the weeks before Christmas, it’s also heart-breaking, because Steve has missed A LOT of important things and that makes it all even harder. He hasn’t coped too well with that either. It is what it is, and this lifestyle is OUR choice, but my darling, please hurry hurry and come home. We’re all just really missing you, but me most of all. I’m just not that great without you. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

I recently wrote a blog – Boys Wearing us Out –  discussing some rather horrifying activities our lads were getting up to in the early hours of the morning – e.g. cutting electrical wires with nail scissors and starting fires in their bedroom. We took some measures after that, but our little guys continue to delight and horrify us. Setting the stage. It was an early Sunday morning and Steve was on wake-up duty – he usually is. The boys were exceptionally quiet when they decided on their program of activities for the morning and we didn’t hear them moving around the apartment. Steve leaps out of bed around 7.30am and what does he find? The boys in the kitchen with our biggest, sharpest knife – see below. What were they doing? Upon exploration and discussion, it turns out Lex decided he needed to take some action. You see, our current car had these little shades above the windows – the sort designed to stop rain coming in when the window is opened slightly. The problem with these shades is it means we can’t clip things to the car – “things” include bunny ears at Easter, bat wings during Halloween, and of course, reindeer antlers for Christmas. Lex was pissed when he realized it wasn’t happening at Easter, then even more pissed when Halloween was off the cards, but he wasn’t going to stand by and let it happen again this Christmas. As a side note, I was DELIGHTED when I realized we couldn’t put these poxy things on our car, because Steve takes great pleasure in buying them every chance he gets, knowing how much I hate them. Driving around with those things makes me squirm with embarrassment. Anyhoo, this fine, early Sunday morning, the boys took that big knife, went down into the basement car park, climbed on the car and used the knife to hack the plastic shades off. I couldn’t believe it and was expecting thousands of dollars’ worth of damage, but thankfully, all that was left behind was a few broken bits of plastic, and glue that you could peel off. So the damage wasn’t going to be a costly exercise – phew – but the thought of the boys undertaking this project, unsupervised, with such a sharp knife, and not chopping fingers or hands off in the process, left Steve and I numb. Why, why, why we ask ourselves, and while I often wonder how I got through my childhood alive, I equally wonder the same for my little dudes. BLOODY KIDS I TELL YA! Now if you would like to tell me how your kids are crazier than mine, please do include the hashtag #mykidsrcrazierthanyours and let me know? It would be great to know I’m not alone… Yours, without the bollocks Andrea