NaBloPoMo 5: Monday April 3rd 1995

Boy- it's been a month!
Here are some things which have happened.

I was sick for a week. What a shocker of a cold that was. Spent three days in bed and dragged myself out on Thursday to see 'Hot Shoe Shuffle' in Chichester which was WONDERFUL!!

My boxes arrived from Aus and Dad and I took 3 and a quarter hours to get to the place in London where they were stored. One hour was to get to Marylebone Rd and the rest was getting through London with traffic jams, road works and wrong turns. We made the freight yards with minutes to spare before they closed!!! Whew.

Other developments this month. My brother-in-law's Dad died which was very sad. Poor Middle Sis is really sitting back and reassessing life. (Eds note:She had also been involved in witnessing a road accident in January in which a woman was killed) She had a week in Cyprus and Dad has just gone to Spain.

I have been embroidering furiously. I now have to make the frill for the moses basket and I still have a maternity top on the go which I won't need if I don't get on with it!!! Yesterday, Mam and I started packing my hospital case. (Picture: Me asleep with the cat on my 'embroidery chair'. The unfinished piece is over the back of the chair.)

I keep getting very weepy. This morning I woke up and had a cry over everything in my life I had messed up.....like a waitressing job way back when. Can you believe it? I worry that I will pass on all my hang ups to my child. I am so afraid of loss at present. I'm afraid of losing my parents. I'm afraid of losing this baby after she's born. I'm afraid of losing all my friends if I don't go back to Australia but then I'm afraid of losing my family if I do.......

I am so tired at the moment.

Perhaps this is pre-natal depression?

Status report: Belly big. Muscles separated between navel and ribcage. Head descending (according to Anne, my midwife) Baby usually fairly active, all visible from the exterior. Still only one varicose vein and no other nasty varicosities thank goodness. Feet slightly swollen for the first time this weekend. Must get back to the exercises. Missed aquanatal and swimming last week because we were at 'The Marriage of Figaro' and 'Oliver' on Tuesday and Thursday nights. It was lovely being in London. I felt I was back in the real world.

'Oliver!': spectacular sets; conductor on 'speed'. I think they had to get the kids offstage before 10pm. Equity rules perhaps? Anyway Mum and I came out exhausted! :-)

'Marriage of Figaro': Opera is too long for me. Enjoyed the first half very much but in the second half the baby was doing gymnastics!!! Champagne at half time. Lovely!

Have also been attending Active birth classes. Cried like a baby the first time. Mum came to the partner's session the second time and I was fine the third time. Saw 2 x 5 day old babies from girls who had been in the first class. Lovely! Am looking forward to meeting my daughter.
(Making a blanket to be embroidered)

Sssshhhhhh. I Am Meant To Be......(pick something)

Augh. This blog posting gig is suffering badly this year. I am trying a little thing called 'time management', an experiment which is mostly failing due to facebook, but that is the main reason for my absence.

This year at school I am teaching Year 7 Maths, a newy, as well as Year 9 and 10 Maths and Year 11 Numeracy for Work and the Community. Year 8 Maths is also lurking in the wings but should be a swap for Year 11 in Semester 2 so I won't worry about it yet.

As always, something new lands on my plate every year and nothing is a simple case of 'trotting out last year's course'. I've never taught Year 7 Maths; in NSW where I trained as a primary teacher, we only went to Year 6. The Year 9s are not too bad although they are significantly worse than last year's bunch so everything is having to be slowed down and repeated; the Year 10s are an Applied class rather than a General (like last year) and Year 11 is a completely new course which we are running in order to get some of our worst babies through the new SACE (SA Certificate of Education) requirements of 'at least a C in maths'.

Don't start me on the SACE. It is basically an attendance certificate. A method of keeping kids out of the dole queue :-(.

The week away at Year 10 camp, 3 weeks ago, set me behind the 8 ball I'm afraid and I am still catching up with myself. Add to that; the BA's new school and new focus on schoolwork; Kidszone at church and an invitation from a network leader to join a new State Kid's Ministry vision group; sailing; my mum and dad trying to sell their holiday house here in Aus and the rest of regular, lifely things and you will see why my Time Management needs work.

But news! The Baby Angel has a JOB!!!!!! She has become the latest slave in the McDonald's chain-gang and spent an hour on her laptop last night, undertaking an online training package. With quizzes. Who knew?

Other BA news. School is going well. She is in the musical (Oliver), has joined the volleyball team (woeful but fun) and has been selected to swim for the school in the local interschool carnivals. The first one is tonight although I don't think she's going to do too well as she is full of cold and I can hear her coughing from the bathroom as I type. She played drums at church again last Sunday and is still enjoying her lessons although doesn't get enough opportunities for practice. (I still won't have a kit in the house.) Oh and her netball team are in the semi-finals this weekend. Hmm.....do you think she is taking after me in doing too much?

Himself is excited by the prospect of a new crew and frantically busy with work. After our wonderfully bonding sailing experiences I am resigned to once more passing him in the corridor as I wake and he goes to bed. I am trying a new regime which includes going to bed at 10pm and getting up at 5am to do school work. Unfortunately blogging got in the way this morning.

No 2 Son continues to vague his way through life. Conversation at the dinner table last night
Me: So, you did some washing I notice. Didn't you have to go to TAFE today?
Him: mumble mumble mumble, that lecture in the city.
Me: errr.....so did you go to the lecture in the city or not?
Him: I tried.
He did not elaborate and frankly, I was too confused to pursue the matter any further.
On the weekend he came upstairs from his pit and asked if I had any books on 'The Northern Renaissance'. Errr, surprisingly, no! Why did he need it?
"Well, I've done a visual critique on an artwork and I've just realised I have to include references to two books as well as the internet, so I just need a couple of titles."

Why doesn't he just google the titles? Might as well.

Must go and do WORK. It's 6.30am but it's my late start morning so I don't have to leave until 7.45am!!! Tonight at the swimming I am 'timing'. Will try to take pix of my girl........

Please Sir, Can We Have....a Better Venue....?????

In a surprise 'twist' (hahahahaha I crack myself up) my daughter, who up until now has shown little or no interest in theatre performance, scored a part in the school musical at the last moment and over the last two weeks has been gracing the stage with her presence!

I must admit that when she told me she was signing up for the musical at the beginning of the year, I was quite surprised. As a stage mad girlie, with a background in musical theatre and dance, I had enthusiastically enrolled my tiny daughter in ballet, gymnastics and music classes. Additionally, as the child of a single parent she was frequently dragged along to rehearsals for a variety of her mother's pantomime and drama productions from an early age. Imagine then my shock and horror as she announced to me (aged 3) that she would NOT be doing that ballet concert for which I had spent hours making a costume!
"What do you mean?" I spluttered. "You like ballet!"
"I don't like all those eyes looking at me!" she announced.

I have to admit I wondered immediately if there had been a swap at the hospital!

A very good and wise friend reminded me that our children are not carbon copies of us and I had to resign myself to the fact that the Baby Angel's only interest in theatre was as a spectator. Even as a spectator she needed to get a grip. During a performance of 'Cinderella', as I had my homemade ball dress ripped apart by the ugly sisters, the BA howled in the audience and had to be restrained from running up onto the stage to 'stop them hurting my mummy!!!!!!'. I just didn't think the theatre was for her.

But, sign up she did. I encouraged her as I thought it would be a good way to build relationships in a new school. Initially it involved being in one or two dance numbers and standing about strategically in scenes. When I quizzed her about it she seemed non-committal and less than motivated. Imagine my surprise then when, a month before the show, she came home to announce that one of the speaking parts had had to resign since she would be in Melbourne on the weekend of the show and that she, the Baby Angel had been chosen to replace her!

She had won the role of Noah Claypole, the bullying undertaker's apprentice whose taunting of Oliver leads to his running away to London to seek his fortune. So, a pivotal role no less!!! We spent a few evenings learning her lines together and working on the characterisation but after that she was all "It's fine mum; it's going well," and I was left to wait in anticipation for opening night.

It was with mounting excitement and a touch of anxiety that I entered the school hall on the first Thursday night. The school hall at my Alma Mater, is a churchlike affair; vast, vaulted, polished wooden floors and, until recently, unheated! There is a stage, albeit without a proscenium, curtains or wings and I had vaguely wondered how they were going to use the place to effect in the Dickensian setting of the show. In a way, the austerity of the place has a somewhat workhouse feel to it, so perhaps it was going to add to the atmosphere?

Wrong

In his wisdom, the director had decided to use the floor of the hall as the stage and erect stadium seating at the rear. The stage at the front had some sets placed on it and stairs leading down to the performance area, but mostly the action took place on the floor. There were no real 'wings'. There were no real lights to speak of!! Oh, and did I mention there didn't seem to have been much direction either????

Perhaps I am being a little harsh. Then again....no.......I'm not.

It was just the wrong place for a musical production. The lovely voices were lost to the enormous height of the ceiling, the lights were washed out in the vastness of the space. And let's face it, most teenage girls playing men are not strong enough performers to carry it at the best of times let alone in the enormity of this setting. Up close and personal in a little intimate theatre they may have got away with it, but in the 'Great Hall' it just didn't work. I began to worry about the BA. On a positive note, at least she wouldn't stand out as a complete newbie. Many of the performances were static and lacked depth although the singing was, for the most part, very good. The trouble was most of the main characters looked as if they'd just stepped out of the front row of a choir. And not a show choir either!!

Earlier this year we had the pleasure of seeing my friend Prof J's daughter performing the same show at her school. Lanky J (as I shall call her...she is enormous!) played Fagin in a hugely enjoyable production where wonderful sets, bright, cheerful lighting and some terrific comic performances covered a multitude of sins (as my mother would say), in the way of weak singing voices, dodgy chorus costumes and average acting. It was a school production, obviously, but it made up for what it lacked with energy, verve and colour; a crucial rule in amateur theatre is to keep the audience visually entertained if nothing else.

The BA's cue approached. I waited with a fluttering stomach for the first lines I had practised with her over and over....

"CHARLOTTE? Open the door Charlotte! OPEN the door will ya????"

The dulcet tones of my Baby Angel bellowed from behind a dresser. She could be heard! within moments she was there onstage and with a leap of my heart I realised that she lit up the space. Sure she was just a schoolgirl in a school play but she held her own, injected some life into the flat atmosphere and kept me riveted to her performance with her energy and presence.

I was so proud.

Now, I ain't saying she's got a career in the theatre or anything. I mean, it was her first ever performance and she had L plates showing all over the place, but she was no weak link in this cast and she was at least as competent as other pupils who'd obviously been doing 'drama' for many years. Like many of them, she seemed uncomfortable in her body on stage but that is a teenage girl thing and something which will improve with experience and confidence.

Oh who knows. She may never do another thing but for the 10 minutes that she was on stage she exuded a presence and energy that took me completely by surprise. Whaddayknow? She has got some of my genes after all!

Congratulations BA on a great job in a difficult setting. Let's see if we can talk Mr Director into hiring a proper theatre for his next show!! Stay tuned folks as Miss Baby Angel stars in the Alma Mater Christmas production of 'The Great Santa Kidnap' (or some such thing) in which she plays a goblin. Naturally.

Bug The Goblin Kidnaps Santa: or Where's My Train Set?

Just a teaser folks, at 6.30am when I am meant to be getting ready for school. Last night was the Baby Angel's Christmas panto performance at school and here she is playing Bug the Goblin in the act of negotiating with Santa over a new train set.

This is the first time in months that I've picked up the camera. I can't believe that I failed to get ANY pictures of 'Oliver'. BAD mother. Still, I was there last night, snappin' away with my inadequate lens (thank you for pointing it out to me, yet again, Himself and not bringing your massive lens instead! "You get called a child molester if you try to take photos in a place like this", grumbled Himself, not unreasonably. He has been bitten once at Small Boy's basketball game and will never photograph a child again!).

With her minimal stage experience, I am still finding the BA's talents surprise me. Of the panto cast, she was definitely one of the strongest; you could hear every word and she got some real laughs. I'm excited to see how she develops as she takes her interest further next year.

Where ever she ends up.

Here is the latest on the school.

Dry Eyes, Tight Throat, Hard Heart

I am so angry and grief-stricken right now that I am finding it hard to find words.

Tonight we trooped into the School Hall, the scene of so many of my girlhood triumphs and transgressions; the scene of the Baby Angel's panto and 'Oliver' highlights; the scene of Choir Concerts, Speech Nights, rock concerts and Formals. We trooped in, thin in number and falsely cheerful, each hoping to hear something reassuring, each brushing aside the dark and ominous looming shadow. We sat, as we had so many times before, facing the great arched stage, bedecked with cheerful penguins awaiting the Junior School Musical on Wednesday night. And then the axe fell.

Next year the school will become the Alma Mater 'Learning Community'. It will consist of an R-6 co-ed primary school with an Early Learning Centre and Childcare facilities. In 2013 they will phase in a Year 10-12 Women's Senior College. Next year there will be no secondary school.

They may as well have changed the name to Local Main Road Community School. There will be nothing left of my Alma Mater apart from the grounds and buildings. The traditions and values of the past have been decimated. The dignity, the history and the love, defiled.

The bastards sold us down the river. The families and girls who stuck it out, who worked hard to ensure continuity, who invested time and emotion in re-building; we've been abandoned. That's the bit that hurts most. And it will bite. Bad will hangs about in this town.

So, what will we do? Probably relocate as soon as possible. With nothing to look forward to next year the BA needs to establish herself somewhere else. She has leadership potential and she needs to be 'known' to be able to realise that. It will never be as it could have been but I will make the best choices I can for my kid. And she is made of stern stuff. She will grieve. She will cry. She will wish it had been otherwise but she will be loved wherever she goes.

In these last death throes we will feel the real weight of our school motto: Verae Numerosque Modosque Ediscere Vitae.

Boy Meets Kitchen

So it appears I am not the only one going through a creative phase at our place. Small Boy is here for the first week of the holidays and to ward off the ever-present and predatory 'boredom', which waits to spring at you from behind every doorway and item of furniture, I suggested he cook something. He, like his father, is not intimidated by the kitchen and fancies himself as something of a Jamie Oliver. He particularly likes cutting things up. When faced with the prospect of choosing something to cook however, he was phased.

"I don't know what to choose!"
"Try looking through a cook book."

(I have approximately 2 000 000. A workman once remarked that I must be a good cook as I had so many cook books. I felt it indicated the contrary. If I was such a good cook I would not need so many cookbooks!)

"I don't know which one to look through...," a definite whine was creeping in now," which part do I look in..."

I don't know why I was so amazed that he couldn't look through the book and choose something without assistance. This is exactly the problem I have. It's why I hate cooking. I HATE deciding what to make!! I especially hate it at 6pm on a weeknight when I have returned from a day of decision making around gormless teenagers. However, we are on holidays and so I was able to calmly point him towards a 'desserts, cakes and biscuits' book with plenty of options to choose from. He decided upon this.


Strawberry Shortcake a la Small Boy. Not damn bad I say!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I got out all the ingredients and he weighed and measured everything out. I had to explain a few terms, like sifting, kneading and beating but he did most of the hard work himself. He put this together while I was making dinner so I was already in the kitchen and able to demonstrate when he needed it, and leave him to it when he was fine.

Even more excitingly, he set the table and helped serve up without complaint. It was just like The Waltons!! Mind you, this was in marked contrast to the night before when he completely jacked up and refused to help the others set, clear or wash dishes without his father bellowing at him. Still, I recall even John-Boy was recalcitrant at times....or maybe that was Mary-Ellen.

Anyway, if he keeps producing things like this we are going to have to increase our trips to the gym!