Twenty Three is a Lot of Birthdays

Twenty three years and 14.5 hours later and I am sitting looking at this picture of an impossibly small Baby Angel and an impossibly young me.

She is a little peeved that I only managed this reproduction thing once.
"I'll never be an auntie,"she wailed recently.
Sorry kid. It's not the way I had planned it, believe me.

Nevertheless, we've had some pretty good 'Kodak' birthday moments along the way. Facebook excelled itself in the memories section today. Every single memory was of a birthday, going back to 2011! Well I can beat that facebook!

Look at this tiny baby...only one day old in her hospital 'goldfish bowl'!

And This! My oh so serious little elf girl with her blue blue eyes and the navy babygro I embroidered with roses....(6-8 weeks maybe?)

 Here's one from her FIRST birthday... the day she discovered grapes...

And wearing one of the many lovely items of clothing we received for that birthday (the cardigan above was a gift too, hand knitted by the BA's lovely Godmother....)

The ubiquitous studio portraits...this one at just over 12 months with her dress from another one of the grandparents...way too big for her still.....

And this one at 18 months, wearing my dress, bought for me by my aunt before we departed for Australia in 1961.

Here's me in the same dress. Not quite as pretty as the BA I'm afraid....

And looooook......

The first visit from her Dad when she was, again, about 18 months old. This was taken by a stranger on the Isle of Wight. Look at those little pink cheeks in the cold!!!!!


And oh oh oh!!!!! This little face! Aged about 2 and a half with her friend F at a fun park just out of Southampton. Oh the trips to that park. We had an annual pass and each visit required the obligatory ride on the train, visit to the dinosaur park, trips on the mini roller coasters and a wander around the maze. I sooooo loved that little hat she has on 💓





Oh and here she is, just turned 4, on our first trip back to Australia. This was a great age....

And before you can blink she is 5 and at school   :'-(

So many photos to choose from, but this one cracks me up! Taken aged around 7 (yes, her teeth took ages to fall out), we were at a theme park in Spain, scene of many spaghetti westerns. We all got to dress up and pose for the cameras.......

Alright. I couldn't resist. Here is BOTH of us!!!

 In our first year back in Australia at 7 and a half. Still speaking with an English accent......

And starting to look like a proper girl aged around 8 or 9.

But I have to stop somewhere...so I'll finish with this year. Here she is graduating from Uni in April....

...and here, celebrating her birthday in her usual dry style, with snapchat.

It's lovely that we have all this social media, but it is extra special to look back through those real life albums and take a trip down memory lane. So many birthdays BA. Here's to many, many more my feisty, funny, independent and entertaining Angel. Love you for ever.
Mum
xx

An Old Post I Discovered, Entitled: Rollercoaster

I recently discovered a folder on my blogger Posts page, entitled 'Drafts'. As I was looking for something, I opened it, obviously for the first time ever, because it contained 25 drafts! Most were one or two lines, penned late at night and somehow never completed, but I did find one or two meaty entries which took me back to a time, not so long ago, but when things were very different. Here's one from 2012.

Rollercoaster

I find myself in a wild and interesting time of life. My Baby Angel, that long streak of misery that towers over me (with delight), is in her final year at school and, just like the old days, I'm on the ride with her.

Year 11, the lead up to this 'final showdown', was a crap year all around and for that I have to take a fair bit of the blame. She had seemed to be doing so well. She had seemed to be so well balanced and so capable; I totally overestimated her capacity to cope with multiple focus pullers.

Firstly there was the trauma of Alma Mater. I know there are friends and family out there who felt strongly that we had done the wrong thing by supporting the school and returning in the face of 'the inevitable' but many lovely and wonderful things took place in that first, and last, semester; were they worth it?

Then there was work. McDonalds certainly gave her a thorough grounding in the drudgery of the workplace. She obviously did a good job as the shifts came thick and fast. Saturday night, all of Sunday and the occasional weeknight shift if someone couldn't make it; the money was good.

In the meantime she had been preparing for the discipleship mission trip to Vanuatu. There were weekends away, regular meetings with mentors and reflections to be submitted to our pastor.

But wait! There's more! On top of all that (and netball) she was taking part in the Scotch College production of 'the Wizard of Oz'. Being a theatre lover myself and knowing what joyful distraction a production can provide, I had encouraged her to audition. Was it the right thing to do? I don't know. She certainly enjoyed the experience.....

All up we had to admit there was too much going on. After her first failure to hand something up, we canned the job. The musical had a limited life and Vanuatu came and went. And then we learned that there was no future for the school as we knew it.

Excellent.

Through a series of amazingly blessed connections and circumstances we got the BA enrolled at another welcoming and accommodating school. Of course she spent the next 4 weeks getting to know people and meeting her future boyfriend. Huh. I don't remember that being in the sign up package!!!!

************************************
And that's where I abandoned the post. In retrospect, I think it was a time where blogging was being replaced by facebook and where life itself became so stressful that I was finding it difficult to write. That was the year I had the Big Falling Out with the Small Boy and my marriage began to slowly but surely rip apart at the seams.

Interestingly, I feel like we are right at the end of that same Rollercoaster ride, even now. The BA  took some time to sort herself out after finishing school and doing that world travelling thing. Now, after a disastrous first attempt at Uni, she seems interested and motivated this year. Although I am far from finished with the process of separating from Himself, he is at least physically removed from the scene which makes things a lot less stressful on a day to day basis. There are still a few corkscrew finales to work through. Will this house ever sell? If not, what then? Where will I end up living and what other changes will I invite into my life as I rediscover some of my lost passions?

Join me on this ride if you will folks! I could do with the company....

Just Because they Say They Don't Love You Doesn't Mean You Haven't Done A Good Job

As I find so often nowadays, I must preface this post with the fact that I started it a long time ago.
Nevertheless, as I move to complete it, there are still issues that remain unresolved and roads to travel for both of us. And so I give you:
My Struggle With My Beautiful BA

***************************************

(Quite A While Ago in 2014)

So the beautiful but temperamental Baby Angel (who would probably need a new name if she even remembered I had a blog, let alone bothered to read it) is not dealing well with my decision to strike out on my own.

I had not anticipated this.

In the past, The BA has sagely commented on the foibles of the male members of our family, summing the whole lot up with statements such as 'I wish we had a normal family'.
Well apparently, it seems, a crap family is better than none and guess what? It is all my fault!
Of course.

Because you see, I am still the adult. Even though the BA is 19 going on 105, she is still a neophyte human being with limited life experience.
And because I am still a teacher, while I am going through **** , you might as well learn from it.

So, here are her declarations and the obvious common responses.
I give you however, the Flaming Sword responses as an alternative.

1) "Mum", she cries, " You are messing up my life!"

Trap for Swordless parents: omg she is right. I am being so selfish. I should stay with him to provide a stable home for her to stay in for ....oh another 6 months before she moves out with her boyfriend.

Sword Response: This is a minor inconvenience for you now. You will still have a place to live, a roof over your head and food on your table. The negative elements of your life are being removed and with that comes pain. No one said life would be without pain. Nevertheless, the change will provide many positives which you still (because of your youth) cannot see. You will be ok. You will survive this my very loved child. The people who have been your stable childhood are all still there. You can adjust. You have the foundations.  You have the ability. You are resilient and you will be better off in a less stressed environment.

2) "Mum", she cries,"You are such a hypocrite, what can you tell me? You discouraged sex before marriage and yet we KNOW what you did!!"

Trap for Swordless parents: omg she is right, I was so totally a slapper.....

Sword response: That is like saying a person injured in a car accident cannot caution others against excessive speed.

3) "Mum", she cries,"venom venom venom "
Trap for Swordless parents: I am a terrible parent, I must get my child to love me again....

Sword Advice: when your child spews venom at you, respond with "I'm sorry you feel that way, however...." This strategy works as well at the age of 19 as it does at 4.

 You may have noticed that this last example was a trifle vague. That is because there were actually more nasty things that she said to me, but (the good news is), two months on, I can't remember what they were.... (deliriously happy face)

My happy lesson to you is that whatever I suggested....works!

********************************************************************************

It is now a long time since I started this post. There were about three weeks of awful, awful agony as she wrestled with the idea of giving up her 'childhood' home and her dysfunctional family. In that time she threw barbs at me which would pierce the toughest armour. Every flaw in my character, every mistake I had ever made in my life (all of which I have discussed freely over the years, believing that all learning is valuable) was brought back to assault me. I will not pretend the attacks did not hurt. Oh my goodness they hurt. They hurt because generally they were true but also because when I had revealed these 'life lessons' it was with the idea that she might 'learn' from them. I had not really anticipated catching them as a low blow to the stomach. Call me naive.

Since this post The BA has come around. I can almost pinpoint when it happened. She had stormed off to spend the weekend with her boyfriend and on her return she hugged me and said sorry. I don't know what had transpired on that weekend but she came back a changed girl. After weeks of resentment, obstruction, and aggression she returned resolved and cooperative.


So what are my lessons for you, young parents out there with younger kids and the vagaries of life before you?
My answer is: It is a process. It starts when they are tiny and you build, build, build upon it.

Every positive interaction you have with your child early on cements a relationship which will pay you back in spades later.

My relationship with the BA is far from storybook. It is normal and healthy, which involves a fair bit of argy bargy but when all is said and done, this is what she wrote on my Christmas card this year:

Dear Mum
I am sorry I decided to spend Christmas away this year, in hindsight I wish I hadn't. Just wanted you to know that I love you am always here for you no matter the distance. 2015 will be our year to start afresh and kick a***. I love you to the moon and back and appreciate everything you've done for me over the past years. I admire your strength, compassion and selflessness as an individual and your way of always making me feel loved. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year Mum.

(I am not making this up!)

One More Departure Post

As she left on her great adventure, Himself and I were both impressed by the send off she received. In this age of disposable technology, superficial facebook style friendships and deteriorating values it was heartening to see a whole bunch of her friends come to see her off.

It speaks to the regard they have for her.

Another couple turned up shortly afterwards.

(I know. Do not ask me what they are wearing. It is some kind of fashion statement.)

And even though her flight was delayed by 40 minutes and she had to check her bags through gate 13 (!!!!!!)............

......there were still a sizeable group remaining  by the time she eventually made it down the gangway.

Even Himself, that inveterate avoider of all things emotional, came; although he claimed it was to support me (that works too).

And after she'd gone, the kids walked and chatted to us as we made that long, desolate walk back to the car park. I gotta say, Smirnoff aside, they are a nice bunch.

So it has been two weeks now since she left. People keep asking if I miss her and it's a strange question. She has spent a lot of time away from me since we got back to Australia in 2003 and she first went interstate to spend a week with her dad. After that first traumatic trip as an unaccompanied minor she took to the whole process like a duck to water and rarely looked back.

Which is exactly as it should be.

I am so proud of her independent spirit and her gutsy 'have a go' attitude. On the other hand, I am exceptionally grateful for facebook, Viber and Skype and the messages she sends me at 3 in the morning when she is awake and wavering over 'crucial' decisions. I love the emoticons that arrive randomly and the pouting selfie she sends when we have been accidentally disconnected...

This trip echoes the one I took in 1978 at a similar age. Every excitement, frustration and anxiety she experiences brings back a wealth of memories for me. I know I came back from my 9 months overseas with a far greater appreciation of my life here in Australia. I wonder how the BA will reflect on this time in years to come?

No more departure posts now.......

Took Eighteen Years To Get This Far

It's been months, if not years,  in preparation. The event of the year! The highlight of the Adelaide social calendar! All singing, all dancing, it's  The Baby Angel's 18th Birthday Bash!

She selected the date some time late last year and started a facebook private event page. I suggested she send out invitations and she looked at me as if I were mad.

Building commenced in the backyard. There was a wall to be replaced, a pool to be refurbished, a pergola to be erected, a patio to create before the hordes of Adelaide youth descended upon us.

Life got busy. School started up again and things seemed more frantic than ever. My new role as the office girl at Himself's business took up the spare moments when I wasn't writing IEPs or Support Plans or supervising the integration of a little lad with cerebral palsy who started in Reception this year.

Building progressed. Ever. So. Slowly.
March arrived. Friends in the UK born around the same time as the BA began turning 18. I noticed their parents collecting photos and comments for their scrapbooks and celebrating with posh parties at sophisticated reception places. I looked out the back window at the dust and stacks of pavers and a creeping unease settled in.

I finally broached it with the BA.
"So what's happening about this party then? Should I be organising some invitations of something?"
"Oh Mu-um (rolls eyes) it's just a gathering."
"What about food? Drink (I presume we are expected to provide some)? Music? What did you have in mind?"
"Oh, just some nibbles and things and maybe a few dozen cans of beer and Cruisers...Oh! Ad you will make your usual cake for me won't you?"

At last something I could relate to. I started to play around with ideas until out of the blue my Middle Sis posted a pic on facebook which was perfectly appropriate for a girl about to spread her wings and take off. So, cake sorted. Sort of.

About this time her dad started texting and phoning with questions about the big party. The big party happening at my house. The big party which occasionally gnawed away at the edge of my brain with annoying questions like "Have you thought this through?" Of course the answer was no so I managed to completely avoid the question for quite some time as the building was delayed, started, stopped and continued to coat the inside of my house with a fine layer of soil. Her dad booked his plane and asked if there was anything he could help with. "Oh probably," I stalled,"but that would require me thinking about it..."

At some point I decided that this occasion required more serious marking than simply a random collection of 18 year old sometime friends, doof doof dancing on my back patio and vomiting into the building rubble. I put it to the BA. "Oh all right!" she announced with exasperation,"we'll ask the oldies early on and then they can all go and my friends can come."
This child has a lot to learn about the art of being a gracious hostess.

With Grandma, Grandad, the two Aunties and all our Baby Group friends 12,000 miles away across the globe, I felt a need to identify dear friends here who had had an impact on the BA through her early years in Australia. I made a number of calls and texts and felt honoured to have around 20 folks agree to come and help me 'cut the proverbial cord'. "Come around 6pm for a BBQ," I blithely quipped," we'll cut some cake, drink a toast and then you guys can beat a retreat if you don't want to have to deal with the mass of irreverent youth descending on the place around 8.30pm."

So the big day drew nearer and nearer. The paving went exponentially slower and slower. Storm water drains needed to be dug; I had big deadlines at school; Himself's business entered a crisis period......I contracted the ugliest case of rhinovirus I had experienced in some time and was laid low for the best part of a week. When I resurfaced we were two weeks out from the party and  the BA suggested we supply bottles of spirits for a 'cocktail bar'. "Dream on baby!" was my response.
Himself had organised to borrow a PA and suddenly the very casual 'ipod playlist' became an item by which the party could be made or broken.

Suspense and anxiety levels started to ramp up. What would I feed them? Would I be able to make a fair stab at this cake I had planned? How would we decorate the back area? What would we put the food on? etc etc etc

Himself suddenly needed to go to Sydney for the week before the party. Great.

The pergola was finished and the paving recommenced. It would be finished by Thursday... Friday.......

I hired cake tins on the Monday before the party and baked the two layers of the cake, finishing at 1am; then I wrapped the lot and popped them into the freezer. "What can we bring?" people asked. What a good question, I thought. I had enough presence of mind to ask one family for a salad and another for some stuffed eggs and yet a third for a potato salad. Beyond that I had nuttin'. I had submissions to complete.

On the Friday before the party, the boys finished laying the pavers.

There were still piles of sand lying around and wheel barrows and all their other attendant tools and mess.

Himself got back from Sydney and commenced decorating the garden with over 50m of coloured flashing lights.

He bought a patio heater as the weather changed, set up the PA and made sure the spa was working properly.

I thawed the cake and started the icing process.

Saturday dawned. In a frenzy of activity Himself went to buy meat for the BBQ, I went to buy food and the BA went to have her hair done >:-(. The boys turned up to remove their tools and the rest of the sand and rubble. They also picked up some trestles from the church for me. I went shopping. I threw random items of 'party food' into the basket: 3kg of cheese and 12 packets of corn chips to make nachos; 4 big partypacks of frozen pies, sausage rolls, spring rolls and money bags, 20 x bulk buy packs of lollies. I sent Himself to buy 'kid drinks' for that part of the evening (I totally forgot to tell him to get any adult drinks so when people arrived at 6.15pm I was without a glass of wine to offer them! Plenty of hideous blue Cruiser things though). But I had finished the last touches on the cake at 5.45pm, so we were roughly ready to go.

I've got to say the baby Angel looked stunning.

Here she is with her dad. Gotta love a fake tan eh?

Her dad, actually, was another story. He texted me earlier in the week to say he'd been having chest pains and had seen the doc to find he had raised cardiac enzymes and had had to go in for an MRI.  On the Thursday he called to say he needed a stent and was booked for the op on the Monday after the party! He always did time these things well. He had root canal work on the morning of our wedding.....

And so the guests arrived (I was in the shower of course). All the most wonderful, generous people who have supported us in our lives here in Oz: Kindergarten Friend who took the BA kayaking on her first camping trip; Dear Friend, daughter of the Quilting Doyenne who babysat for her over more than a year as I went to my regular karate class to take out my life frustrations; Brother of Dear Friend, who partnered her to the second formal of 2012; the Quilting Doyenne who took them both to swimming lessons every Thursday evening for two years; The Bestie and her lovely Mum and Dad; many of her wonderful mentors from our church community; her earliest girlfriends in Aus; two of her teachers who are great friends of mine and have watched her grow and of course A Free Man and his fab family whom we love.

Eventually, I gathered the crowd under the new pergola and thanked them all and told them about the time 18 years ago when I had welcomed the BA into the world in one of those weird anachronistic moments where she was born on one day in the UK and the next day in Aus. I thanked her dad and his wife; I got choked up by thoughts of my mum and dad who would have loved to have been there.... and that was when I realised I was unprepared. I had not written a speech. I totally forgot to talk about my beautiful, feisty, independent daughter. And I forgot to cut the cake. This fact was brought home to me some 30min later as the young 'uns had started to arrived. Not Max grabbed my leg in passing and in perfect 4 year old speak asked "CAKE! When are we having the CAKE??????"

Of course, by then I was preoccupied with: ensuring that the 'arrivals' were genuine guests and not gatecrashers; providing hot food for the starving masses and collecting up the precious champagne glasses from the toast.
Me: (carrying a tray of champagne flutes) Hello, and who would you be?
Boy: Hi Mrs A, I'm G, remember me?
Me: Oh yes, I've met you before at the .*..crash crash crash.....* (as I tilted the tray ever so lightly G-wards in greeting him).

Champagne flutes are notoriously unstable and behave remarkably like dominoes in these situations (that's my story and I'm sticking to it!!!)

I got very few photos of the actual 'revels'.

There was a great deal of dancing around the speakers and a very serious game of 'beer pong' going on. My determined efforts to keep the rabble out of the house failed miserably as they congregated in the laundry, end bedroom and bathroom. We served up nachos and frankfurters (called 'little boys' over here) and my sentinels on the front balcony reported the young lady fertilizing our garden rather early on in the evening (Amazingly, having got rid of all those nasty stomach contents she went on to thoroughly enjoy the party and left at 1am, bright eyed and bushy tailed).

I've got to say, the young people were delightful. They were well mannered, articulate (mostly....) and genuinely just having a good time. The 78 attendees (as per facebook) came and went in dribs and drabs meaning that we had no more than 50 there, all up, at any one time.

There were the occasional downers. The police came at 11.30pm to ask us to 'turn it down'. They were delightful and apologised profusely but we did have to take the doof doof out of the equation, much to everyone's chagrin. There was 'Spew Boy' whom I found collapsed on the BA's bed just after the police visit. Keen to keep the bedrooms alcohol (indeed-people) free, I got him up and supported him down the corridor towards the kitchen where we hoped to get him to drink some water and sober up. Unfortunately, as we passed the bathroom he spied the basin and, I've got to say, he almost made it. Shame about the make-up bag some foolish girl had left on the bench top.
We eventually bedded him down on a fold up mattress on the kitchen floor (no carpet in case of further accidents) with a bucket.  No one seemed to want to take responsibility for him, which I thought was sad. I tried to drive him home later that night but he was unable to coherently give me an address and I was not able to lift him without a crane. We left him snoring on the floor and in the morning he had gone. Apparently he texted the BA to apologise.

Most of the crowd left around 1am, thanking us for having them and leaving responsibly in cabs. Himself wanted to party on and kicked up the spa so 7 of them (4 were staying over) ended up in the spa at 2am. That was me finished and I told Himself that since he was having such a good time, he could see them all off the premises or into bed, cos I had had enough.

At 3.30am my slumbers were disturbed when the BA burst in to show me her birthday present...

 (photo taken the following morning)

Speaking of the following morning.....
                                                                                                                    

And a little visitor, just to remind us that we do live in Australia....

So, I think we can say it was a success, despite my total lack of planning and leaving everything to the last moment as usual. I'm not too sure I'd do it again in a big hurry but I suppose I don't have to.....


Alice Cooper: Eighteen

Heartbreak Hotel On Repeat

I mentioned a while ago, that one of the reasons I blog less frequently is because the objects of my blogging are now painfully aware of my reporting about them here.
Needless to say most of the interesting things in life are met with,
"And DON'T put this up on your blog mum!"
The BA herself has found some interesting ways around the whole social media thing though.

Once upon a time, she was threatened that if she blocked me on facebook, she would have her internet privileges removed. As a result we are still 'friends' and I still have access to her timeline and those of her friends, but one cannot help notice that they are posting there less and less.
Of course! duh-oh!....they have created a group page, to which parents are NOT privy! They also use other new media sites like tumblr and formspring (which are probably out of date now as I mention them) and move on to the next faddy e-meeting place as quickly as al Qaeda moves base camps. The only up side to this is that they are so involved with themselves, their secret internet meeting sites and their latest shade of lipstick (sorry, did I say that out loud??) that they don't bother checking back in on mother's blog too often. Which is a good thing as I have felt rather gagged of late, when there has been so much to write about.

One of the things I was not allowed to mention when it happened, was the break up of The BA and her first boyfriend. I always knew things like this must be hard for a loving parent to endure, but the reality was as sharp as a knife. She crawled back into my bed like a 4 year old. She cried with wracking sobs that tore at my very soul. She described every little crack in her heart to me....
I like to think I handled it well on the outside, that I was of some comfort, but who knows. At least it was a clear cut case of the young man behaving badly (sheesh...I am so polite here).

He had always intended to go off on a backpacking trip around Asia in his gap year (2012). The farewell at the airport was teary on both sides, and in the first week he face-timed her constantly, giving her a 360 degree laptop view of his surroundings every time they made contact. And then the communication stopped.
He and the BA had been as thick as thieves for two weeks shy of a year when he messaged her on facebook to suggest that they probably couldn't maintain this relationship at a distance. She showed me the message and collapsed into my arms. I encouraged her to find out what had changed. Perhaps he was miffed that she hadn't contacted him? (she had deliberately stopped when his responses became lacklustre). A flurry of messages later and it was clear that he simply wanted his cake and eat it too. In fact, he already HAD eaten it, although of course, as he protested, it didn't mean anything. Oh and additionally, perhaps she was no longer the right cake for him (when there was such a bakery on offer where he was...)

He spent some time rationalising about how different it was to be 'away' and 'travelling', how things just 'happened' and would probably 'happen' again! How this was perfectly natural and those poor souls stuck back in Adelaide would not really understand. She may have bought his load of crock too, except that he made one fatal mistake: he suggested that they might just 'get back together' when he returned home!!!

Fortunately, the BA was surrounded by people who value her and who snorted loudly when they heard his 'suggestion'. She stuck to her guns, didn't see him on his return and has now moved on.
(In a slightly sniggery footnote, I can report that on his return he begged to see her and, when she finally capitulated, was shocked by the depth of his own remaining feelings for her. After a couple of 'chummy' outings, he decided he couldn't see her again until he had 'got over her'. Well, duuuuh young fellow!)

In the meantime, she met Army Boy.

 

The BA has flown back and forwards from Adelaide to Sydney in her holidays for years. I have become very adept at seeing her off at the airport  and at picking  her up, draped in new clothes and gifts, after her holidays with her dad. In September 2012 she emerged through the flight gate accompanied by quite a nice looking young man! Surely dad had gone a bit far this time???? But seriously, she had been seated next to him on the plane and they had got chatting. As they emerged together, I could hear them swapping phone numbers. She introduced him to me (after a prompt from him I might add) and they agreed to catch up. The following weekend he took her out on a date: lunch at a nice restaurant in the Hills, bowling and a movie!! Like a real 'traditional' date! He left saying he had to dash off to church!!!

This was sounding more and more promising!

Since then, Army Boy has become a fixture and after some coy dancing around the 'nature' of their relationship
(BA: Mum! I have just had my heart broken, do you think I am going to get into a serious relationship again so soon?
Me: But, you only see each other don't you?
BA: Yes
Me: and you don't want to see anyone else do you?
BA: (emphatically) No!
Me; And he doesnt want to see anyone else does he?
BA: (even more emphatically) NO
Me: Then, regardless of what you want to call it ....... he's your boyfriend! 
BA: Oh Mum, you wouldn't understand!!!!!!)
have indeed become an 'item'.

Which is sad because he's just been deployed to Afghanistan. He leaves next Tuesday. I predict tears and there's absolutely nothing I can do to make it better for her :-(                                                                                                                                                       


picture credit 1

The Formal Looms

So this weekend is The Formal.
Tonight we were combing the mall for a suitable pair of earrings to compliment the dress purchased way back in March. The spray tan is booked for tomorrow as as I write she is closeted in the bathroom exfoliating her legs in preparation.
*sigh*
I remember getting ready in the boarding house and eating macaroni cheese with the boarders because my date had gone back to the US two months beforehand and I had been charged with decorating the hall. Tan? Hairdresser? Make-up artist? Pffffffffft.
Did it all myself.

Funny, come to think of it, I look pretty much the same at my wedding! Talk about lack of imagination :-D

But the lead up has not been without drama (of course, this is the Flaming Sword after all). About 6 weeks ago the BA called into my school on the afternoon of our Formal. Now let me explain that that BA attended my current school for 5 years before transferring to Alma Mater and then St Saviours. She has many good friends still at the school, and seeing them all in their Formal gear was a little bittersweet for her. After all, she could have been with them.

And then she saw one of her friends looking stunning in a gown which was a cross between this

and this.

The top was like the first one, with the ruched midriff, the skirt was more full, like the second picture. And it was green.

Now, I've got to admit, it looked stunning on the girl in question. She wore it with long gloves which really added to the elegant effect. But the BA was infatuated.

"Muuuuuuuuum. I don't think I like my dress..." she squealed as we drove home that night.
"Get over it," was my rather unsympathetic response. Remember after all that I was the one who traipsed around 40000 shops with her, rejecting dress after dress.
"But, hers is so pretttttttttty!!!!! I think I would like a full dress after all."

At this point may I direct you to this post where I had planned to have full dress made for her? And recall her concern that she mght not like it once it was made? Is it any wonder I had zero tolerance for this sudden turn around?

A few days later she texted me from a meeting with her friend in town.
"Muuuuuuum. J will lend me her dress if I want it. Can I try it on please?"
My response was curt:
"You already have a dress. Quite an expensive one if I recall..."

The nagging continued for several days. 'But why can't I just try it on?', 'O's mum bought HER a different dress; in fact she bought her THREE dresses!!!!'....

More fool her, I thought!

For goodness sake, why on Earth would you buy your 17 year old three different dresses to choose from for her Formal? And we are talking $400.00+ dresses! What message is this sending her?

What bothers me about people with this mentality is that they are often hard workers with their own businesses who have come from modest families and, through hard work, made good. Their progeny, on the other hand, have never worked for anything in their lives and grow up believing that their parents' efforts somehow entitle them to an easy ride in life. And to be fair, it is not surprising that they believe this. Three dresses?? I ask you!!!!

After a week of whining about this other dress I suggested she had three options:
1) wear the dress
2) wear the friend's dress and pay her dad and I back for the unused dress
3) (and this was inspired) wear the friend's dress but do not expect another dress for the end of year Graduation Ball and instead, utilise one of my two wedding dresses. The other formal dress would be available for wearing to another occasion in the future.

She jumped at this suggestion and quickly borrowed the friend's dress to try on. Now, I gotta tell you, on her it looked nothing. Seriously! The colour was wrong, she only just squeezed into it leaving her with an effectively bandaged chest and, being slightly beefier than her friend, the full skirt just looked limp. Regardless she took photos and emailed them to all her friends. Their response was typical 17 year old platitudes. Not one of them would tell her if she's not looking her best, for fear she may say the same to them one day!

I said nothing. I let the dress trying on and picture taking run its course and then I took her shopping for earrings. Suffice to say that the dress has been returned to the friend and she is happily looking forward to wearing the original dress on Saturday.

Pictures to follow!

Boy Meets Water Lilies

Last Sunday, with the advent of Spring (finally), we took Middle Sis and Small Boy to the Adelaide Botanic Gardens. Enroute, Small Boy piped up from the back seat,
"So what are we going to do there?"
"Just look around,"someone replied,"you know, have a walk..."
There was some silence and then he replied,
"I just don't get this walking around thing.....I mean, what do we DO?"
Middle Sis moved straight to the rescue,
"We'll get an ice cream."
"Oh!" he remarked, significantly brightened, "I like THAT plan."

Of course, once we arrived he was completely captivated by the meandering pathways, fountains and surprises around every corner. One of the newer additions to the gardens is the Water Lily House. None of us had seen it before and we were all mesmerised by the gigantic Amazonica
leaves.
These enormous leaves can grow up to 7 foot in diameter!


The beautiful pale blue flower is the Egyptian Lotus or Blue Water Lily. Opening in the morning and closing at night, it was associated with the Sun God by the ancient Egyptians and can be found decorating many columns and tombs.



The enormous white blossoms of the Amazonica are closed tightly during the day, ready to open with their delicious pineapple scent at nightfall. The flowers of this amazing plant, are pollinated by beetles who enter the blossoms at night and are trapped inside as the petals close up during the day. The heat of the day is trapped within the flowers and means that the beetles can partake in an orgy of mating without expending too much energy and without having to eat half their body weight in foliage to keep it up. So to speak.

But the really weird thing was the bottom of the Amazonica leaves. They are covered with spikes! Strange, inside out Venus Fly Trap style growths also dotted the pool. It took us a few moments to realise that they were the new leaves unfurling!

This photo was taken moments before the BA nearly fell in the pool. Hmmmm Not sure that would have gone down well!

So, although the final goal was an ice cream, there was education to be had at the Gardens! And we got him away from the skate park for a day!!!