Beaches and Visiting the Past

February 2, 2016February 2, 2016 raphaela999 Comments

We met up with some families this week at Bondi Beach. It’s a lovely trip by bus from the city, and you get to meet some real characters. On our last trip, we came across a regal ninety year old woman, dressed to the nines. My daughter still talks about her, and she has provided a point of reference for the possibilities offered in older age. I had put 50+ sunscreen on my daughter, and myself, though I neglected my neck, to my peril. It was cool and overcast when we arrived, a dangerously deceptive combination. It didn’t take long for the sun to burst forth, in all it’s sizzling glory. There was something special about being at Bondi Beach, particularly when you don’t have the hassle of obtaining parking. A bus is the way to go! The kids had great fun, alternating between the beach and pool.

The next morning, we got up and did it all again, this time going to Balmoral Beach. On the way, we had cupcakes and ice cream at The Classic Cupcake Co. in Double Bay. Oh my goodness! Made from natural ingredients, they were a taste of heaven. I had the Midnight Mint Cupcake.

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As we made our way to the beach, we witnessed a near-collision in Double Bay. An inch more and the cars would have hit. The woman who had nearly caused the accident decided to come into our lane in her ostentatious car. My friend beeped at her to warn her that we were too close behind, and the other driver made some very rude gestures! She was perfectly coiffed, aged in her fifties and old enough to know better. Money can’t buy class! The kids ran to the water, whilst we ordered chips and potato scallops. I smiled as seagulls gathered around. I fancy myself as a Bird Woman, whom understands their secret language. “I will give you a chip or two,” I smiled. “Just let me open the box.” Out of nowhere, a seagull swooped and its claws scraped the side of my face. Another one followed suit, and it pecked my face as it searched for a chip. “Little buggers!” I cried! “P*%$ off!” They were vicious; intent on stealing chips, and there were so many gathered that we were forced to move off the beach. I had never seen anything like it! Normally, birds love me! They followed us to a table, and fortunately, a Pomeranian named Romeo gallantly chased them away. The brave little dog received lots of pats from the kids!

We caught a train to an inner-city stop, and as we waited for my daughter’s dad to drive us home, I decided to show my little girl where we once lived. It was a semi-detached house in a grand old street, shaded by towering trees. I got a real kick out of pointing out where our Aboriginal neighbour lived, as well as two elderly sisters, now departed from this world. I stopped at the gate to our former abode, picturing myself at 20. I was writing and had started my business here, creating art for shops in Newtown and the city. I had also started my journey of infertility here, having been given a strong injection which was promised to slow the progression of endometriosis (which they hadn’t determined I had). Instead of making me feel better, it caused side-effects so violent that I was bed-ridden for a good year. It was here I feared I would never have my daughter, and it was here I wished with all my heart that I would.

As I glanced up at canopy of trees, I was appalled that I had ceased to appreciate them properly at the time. They don’t preserve streets and grand architecture as they used to; like they did on this particular street. My daughter was taken with the street art, and the park at the end of the street. As I watched her roll down a hill and perform cartwheels, my throat constricted with emotion. The amount of times I sat on that very hill in that little park… Dreaming of having a child, and of what life might be.

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I sat next to her, and told her of the life I lived long before she arrived. I talked of my hopes and dreams, and also of my fears. I hadn’t been back to the street for many years. I can still hear the mail being dropped through the slot in our door. I can still feel the warmth from the old gas oven in the kitchen I painted turquoise. I can see me. I haven’t changed that much, except that I am weathered. We all get weathered along the way, to varying degrees. Distressed and shabbily chic. I am glad I thought to take her back. I hope that the girl on the hill could feel our visitation through time and space. I hope she could sense that she was going to be okay. I hope she could sense the little girl doing cartwheels nearby. I am glad I got too see the canopy of trees, as if for the first time.

Gnomes and Destiny

January 11, 2016January 12, 2016 raphaela998 Comments

When I was nineteen, I started a business, selling my art and poetry, as well as crystals and curiosities at markets and on consignment. I was extremely busy during this ten-year period, particularly when I reflect on all the surgery I had at the same time! I lived in a grungy, funky part of Sydney, and would often walk down the street to hang out at the all-night bookstore and grab some fabulous Indian food. I was into ceramics, and had my Greenware fired in the kiln of a nearby business, before painting them. I only managed to hang onto two of my pieces from this time. Before I left the area, I retrieved them from the shop where they had recently been placed…

I haven’t paid them much mind in the intervening years, only to gift them a smile as I passed them in my living room. I have pared back my commitments since Christmas, and have made time to clean and reflect, de-clutter and organize my home. I stopped yesterday and studied my little friends, reflecting on a time when I had created and painted, written and pottered. I recalled the nights spent painstakingly painting them; the joy I felt when what I had created was bought. I looked closer, and noted that they hadn’t been cleaned for a while. Getting a wipe, I lovingly set to work. I turned them over, and there on the base was my daughter’s name, a daughter I wouldn’t have for another decade. I don’t know why I had thought to send them off with the following: Painted with love by E.Rose.

A chill went through me. When I had finally fallen pregnant with IVF, I had another name altogether picked out for this baby, if it was a girl. In my eighth month, I dreamed of her, and she said that her name was E. Rose. (full name obscured to protect privacy). I changed her name accordingly. I had no recollection of ever signing my work with her name years before. How many hundreds of times had I done so? I called to her and told her the story and she was as delighted as I. “You knew me even then! You loved and wanted me before I was here!” I certainly did. Slowing down and having time to notice my little gnomes gave me a great gift. My daughter was intrinsically entwined in my younger years, letting herself be known, even on an unconscious level. When you say “I can’t do this anymore,” and allow yourself to slow, it’s amazing what you notice. Gnomes may even hold a breath-taking, thrilling message, just for you.

Traditions, Christmas, Darkness and Light

December 21, 2015December 21, 2015 raphaela991 Comment

Can you feel it too? There is loneliness and pain, darkness and light flitting about the earth. Christmas Day in Australia is taking place on a full moon. You can’t get more intense than that! People seem to be exhausted and have let traditions slip. Annual get-togethers haven’t happened, and events attended each Christmas have been neglected. I was feeling melancholy, then realized that I haven’t been to a carol service, local markets, nor caught up with friends. All the things that make life lighter and give you something to look forward to. The only event we went to was the lighting of the Martin Place Christmas Tree, and I was finding it hard to sustain the Christmas spirit until I went to a loved one’s house and was gifted these blankets.

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Hand-made in Ethiopia, their sale benefits Hamlin Fistula Ethiopia, an organization founded by Dr Catherine Hamlin, whom still does the rounds of the hospital in her 90’s. I had tears when my daughter and I were gifted these blankets. Young women had crafted them a world away. The fact is, one can be in Ethiopia in a day. Restoring these women’s dignity restores us all. I will treasure these blankets all my days.

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My little girl asked me to close my eyes Saturday afternoon, and presented me with this little girl, aptly called Noel. I have wanted a cockatiel for the longest time and am delighted with this addition to our family. I couldn’t have asked for a more thoughtful and wondrous gift! It has been cute watching our little birds desperate to impress her with their songs and tricks. She adores them, and loves going into their house and hanging out with them. Whilst birds and thoughtful kids, blankets and people such as Dr Catherine Hamlin are in the world, life is great.

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It has been a new frontier, starting home schooling. I identified as the ‘school mum,’ helping out, and attending assemblies and concerts, carols, fetes and movies. I think we have both felt a little adrift this season as a result. It is a whole new way of life, and we are so grateful that she will be seeing her old school friends as well as new friends through the holidays. I am so grateful to my friend Lisa, who is a librarian. She brings around books aimed at dyslexic kids. The stories are engaging and it is a joy to watch my daughter read. We are getting there with building up her confidence. This lady contacted me, explaining we had mutual friends and that she would like to help. Help you have, beautiful one.

I have had periods of ferocious flashbacks and what those in the know term ‘the horrors.’ Aptly titled. Trying to function whilst your heart is in your throat and your voice is unable to relay what is going on inside your mind… We have needed to stop, and just be together. We all need to stop once in a while and have nowhere to go and nothing to do. There has been a lapse in traditions this season. I love the story I heard of a lady who goes on a long walk and picks flowers with her children before opening the gifts around the tree Christmas morning. This week, I shall be honouring some of my standards, and it will seem I am being drip-fed light. It will feel like Christmas. I wish there was time to see everyone I want to, and go to everything I desire to. Time is a cruel master on this earth, and you can only do what you can do.

Moving has brought home to me how much we tolerate. I am sleeping better here, and am certainly much more content. How I lasted in the former place, I don’t know. You become used to unpleasant situations, but then it reaches a point when you break and say, “I can’t do this anymore!” In the breaking down, there comes the breakthrough that you need. It is so quiet here, and the fragrant roses continue to bloom. Life isn’t perfect, and there are challenges, but at least I can be alone with my thoughts. This is the home that love and friendship built, after all. I shall never forget everyone’s kindness.

Go gently through this season, and please, be kind to yourself. I think we will look back on 2015 as the year of dramatic change, with people leaving and lives being shaken to their core. We are almost through it, kids. As I watch Noel throw her water dish from her platform, I smile. She looks at me, as though saying, “what do you think of them apples?” I think those apples are fabulous, as I do this life. So much is out of our control, but if we adhere to our traditions, we can take refuge in what is familiar and safe. That is what I shall be doing this week, and it shall feel great.

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Babycakes (Also Known as Glitterball)

November 19, 2015 raphaela9914 Comments

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I have an extraordinary daughter and she and I share an extraordinary bond. It hasn’t been an easy road, for either of us. It is a dreadful dichotomy, to want a child so desperately, and yet struggle when she arrives. I filled in the requisite questionare when I was pregnant and the alarm bells rang when the matron in the maternity ward saw it. Not only had I had major trauma in my life, but also a damaged body and little help. I couldn’t drive a car and was in a wheelchair in the later part of pregnancy. I felt more alarmed by my score because the matron was filled with histrionics. “How will you cope when you shall be mostly alone when she arrives? What will you do?” she trilled. Crap! How shall I cope and what shall I do? I began to ruminate on these frightening themes. It didn’t help that I had no experience with babies. I could barely recall being a child myself! More people doubted my abilities than believed in them.

I did IVF to have her, and that was an Odyssey in itself. I never thought beyond getting to the epu and then the dreaded tww. That was all my brain had space for. I felt so little, and vulnerable. I had to buy my pyjamas and dressing gown from the kidswear section as despite my enormous belly, I was petite and short. Very short. After my maternity visitation, I booked in for counselling after having been told that I was a prime candidate for perinatal and then postnatal depression. You know what was uncovered during these sessions? I had prepared myself for the pain that would unfurl on my damaged spine and kidneys… I had prepared myself for most matters. What I did have an issue with was boundaries. I had allowed people to run rampant in my life. I felt so fragile after IVF, and vulnerable now. I almost had her at 19 weeks, and it created major anxiety, even after the rupture sealed and labor stopped. I left hospital after several weeks, on high alert. As a result, my life and pregnancy became a free-for-all. All I wanted was peace and silence and I was getting little of either.

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When my rambunctious daughter arrived, I didn’t tell anyone save her godparents. I needed time with her alone. Oh yes, noses were out of joint, but at that stage, I was past caring. I didn’t want throngs of people touching her. I needed to get to know her! When the staff took her down the hall for her routine tests, she would roar until she was wheeled back in and then not a peep was heard. She always was a little firebrand who not only knew her own mind, but spoke it.

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At home by myself, it was tough. I could barely walk for months, and she had colic. She rarely slept and only stopped crying when in my arms. I was exhausted though enthralled. I tried every available product on the market to ease her suffering. Whenever the colic pain eased, I would search her face in desperation. I wanted her so much; did she not know? The other young mothers I knew all had routines set down for their newborn and they slept. I fell into postnatal depression, and sought appropriate help once again. It made all the difference. I stopped ruminating on my fears of being enough for this wondrous child. By six months, she was a gurgling, happy little munchkin. I was making myself a coffee after settling her to sleep in her crib at the end of my bed. I heard a giggle, and turned around to see my 8 month old grinning at the door of the kitchen. I dropped my cup in fright. She had managed to climb out of her crib, landing on my bed, and then walked to the kitchen. Even as an embryo, she was in a hurry, doing what a 7 day old embie might within 48 hours. I came to know her personality, and she mine.

She hated being in her pram and I found out that she was extremely flexible in rather a stressful manner. I was walking up the hill to a nature reserve, where my car was parked. I heard a strange clunk coming from underneath her pram though persisted with my voyage. To my horror, I found the wheels of the pram had run over my daughter! She had gotten free of the restraints and stood up in the pram! I ran to retrieve her and she was laughing, delighting in the game!

Then there was the memorable time in a play centre. We were attending a playgroup Christmas Party. Only one harangued girl was on the counter and the place was bedlam. I heard my toddler call out, “hi mummy!” To my horror, she had climbed through the third level’s netting and lifted herself through a large hole in the roof. She was now standing on the flimsy net with nothing around her on the outside. Hurridly I crawled through the levels, and retrieved her by her feet. She thought it was terrific.

At four, I thought I had struck gold. I had discovered a meditation cd for children which carried her into the land of nod. Delighted, I put it on every evening. I pressed ‘play’ one night, and got the fright of my life. She had changed the meditation cd for rock music, and put it at full volume. She hid the calming cd and I haven’t seen it since.

I reflect on the tumultuous early days and am sad that I was so filled with fear. Heck, half of it wasn’t even mine! The colic ended, and whilst she was still a very wakeful baby, I let go of any notion that I could control it, and went with the flow. I slept when she did. If I had my time over, I would expunge any anxiety that I was too damaged to do the job of child-rearing properly. I would accept more help. I would try harder to stand out rather than fit in with what everyone else was doing. My daredevil insisted that I chill out, and I grew to understand her capabilities when it came to climbing and general mayhem. She has never fallen, and whilst I have anything to do with it, she never will.

Sculptures By the Sea

November 4, 2015 raphaela9916 Comments

Last week I was bedridden. Throwing up, headaches, fevers and unable to breathe properly. It takes a great deal to send me to bed. Either I can’t stand on my feet due to spinal pain or breathing is difficult due to pneumonia. My daughter made her lunch each day and got out her workbooks. I was so very proud of her. Sculptures by the Sea was on in Sydney, and I thought that the ocean air may help my recovery. We departed early, the sky an ominous grey. By the time we left Museum Station, a storm had begun. The wind was ferocious, and turned my sturdy umbrella into a weapon. We found a café to take shelter in. The barista was a delightful young lady from Wales, and I was entranced by her accent. I couldn’t understand a thing she was saying, mind you! I asked for a coffee in a mug as big as my head and my request was granted.

My child and I discussed cancelling our trip to the ocean walk to see the sculptures. My mind started with its anxiety reel. What if my phone runs out of battery and we get lost? What if our Opal cards run out of money and we can’t top them up? How will we get back from Bondi? What if there is torrential rain? I noted that two friends and their kids were going to brave it. They posted that the weather was much better on the coast. Another friend mentioned that she and her son had danced in the rain the day before and had a ball. My daughter looked at me, and said in a determined voice, “Remember our motto? The Angelou girls never give in and never give up.” Trapped by my own motto! It astounds me the way we try to talk ourselves out of new experiences; out of adventures. We found the bus we were to take, and enjoyed a pleasant trip through the Eastern Suburbs. The only hitch was that I went the wrong way when trying to find Tamarama Park. We walked in circles, my anxiety growing stronger. What if my phone goes flat, what if our Opal cards run out, what if we are lost… What if I am not enough for this amazing daughter of mine? She squeezed my hand and smiled, “it’s okay if we can’t find it. Being together is what it’s about.” I gave it one more try, and to our delight, we found it!

The ocean air did indeed clear my lungs and head. It was like magic! It was quiet, given the wind and mild temperature. The sun was hidden, but the beauty wasn’t. Somehow it made the scene all the more haunting. The children climbed rocks and sprayed each other with this enormous bottle.

They ran barefoot and wild, just as a child should be. As one of them swung on monkey bars, performing daredevil tricks, I overheard two young women as they went by. “Look at that little girl! I love that she has no fear.” I told my friend what they had said about her child, and she smiled. She said that older people usually criticize her lack of terror at her child’s antics! My daughter found a wishing pot and made a special wish.

We could taste the salt on our lips, feel it in our hair. It was like fairy dust, a light smattering of medicine. For two hours, the children played games, laughed, ran and discussed the sculptures. These two spoke of some of the issues of their generation. The ‘Barbie Wave’ was created from thousands of discarded dolls, and spoke to our rampant consumerism. The child holding their phone and sitting mesmerized spoke of our obsession with technology.

As we were leaving, we came across a massive blackboard a resident had placed outside her home.

We only stayed two hours, as our friends had to get back to the car or face a hefty fine, but time seemed to be fluid, rather than linear. We caught the bus back into town with a cacophony of smiling people. A lady in her 90’s regaled us with her stories. Today taught me that I am enough for my daughter. I am going to be okay and I shouldn’t let fear stop me from doing anything. If the Opal Card or phone had run out of power, I would still be okay. There is a big world out there to explore, and there are more magnanimous people than bad.

The Weekend

October 20, 2015November 1, 2015 raphaela995 Comments

My daughter and I were delighted to attend The Love is Huge by artist Jodie Whalen. We had no idea what to expect. We discovered the following on our seats; a pink flag, a party popper and instructions. We were asked to surprise a man called Heath by waving the flag and cheering when he arrived in the theatre. We certainly did, and he blushed and laughed, before sitting on the stage. Jodie came sauntering out in a gorgeous gown, and took us through a thirty minute performance. It was her declaration of love to Heath, and was intimate and profoundly moving. Much to my surprise, I found out that it was Jodie’s first time singing in public. During the finale, we set off our party popper’s and applauded as scores of pink balloons (with Heath’s photo on them), were released from the ceiling. My daughter was enchanted by the performance, even though she posed like this for my photo. “Romance, yuck!”

We then made our way to the 21st Birthday party of Casula Powerhouse (as a designated art space). It is an extraordinary place; large and filled with hope. David Capra did a splendid job of curating this event. There was techno music, a huge birthday cake, photo booth, karaoke, performers and more artists than there are angels spinning on the eye of a needle.

Artists are the dreamers, the visionaries and the ethereal of this world. Stepping into their realm is akin to splashing iced water on your face and falling asleep under the coercion of a fairy potion.

To our delight, on Sunday, there was a Blessing of the Animals at Ashfield Uniting Church with Bill Crews. It was organized with WLPA, the World League for the Protection of Animals. It was a service which greatly resembled an episode of the Vicar of Dibley. There were cats and dogs, ducks and guinea pigs. If I had known it was on prior, I would have brought our pets along! It was a very moving service, and we said a prayer for a lady who had lost one of her little dogs to old age that very morning. The hardest part of having animals is found in the dreadful day that they die.

It was a beautiful service, filled with love, for both the humans and animals. A majestic Police Rescue Dog made his voice heard by the end of the service. Bless the animals of this world. They have a lot to teach us, as my canary taking on an Indian Miner bird (from behind the safety of the window), can attest.

Sailing Away

October 15, 2015 raphaela991 Comment

I wrote the following for Siren Empire before we left for our trip. There is nothing like the shock, disbelief and depression which accompanies betrayal. Some people do indeed live in fancy apartments bought with other people’s money. Even more astonishing is the fact that they sleep at night. I would rather be me than them. Karma catches up to the cheaters in this world. Anyway, I am rambling. I wasn’t in a great place before we departed for our ocean voyage. In fact, I don’t recall packing. Come to think of it, I didn’t. I merely threw clothing into a case. The seasoned travellers amongst you would be appalled.

We drank a toast to the birthday girl before departing. Now this softly spoken angel is turning forty this month. She retrained as a nurse the past couple of years, whilst bringing up her three kids. She works hard in ER, and desperately needed time-out. A wonderful group of women gathered, telling silly jokes as we refilled our champagne glasses. My friend’s sister had just had a baby, so couldn’t come. She had t-shirts made for us all which announced who we were celebrating and why. We climbed aboard the shuttle bus, and I felt my shoulders relax. At the terminal, I was startled when I saw that I had to walk over a high drop, which was visible through the Perspex walkway. My daughter saw my apprehension before I could even voice it. “I don’t think I can!” I exclaimed. An officer stood to the side and asked if I was okay. I explained that I didn’t like heights. Of course, its more than that. I was thrown off a freakin’ building! I soared through the air and smashed onto the ground. I had to be rebuilt. Not liking heights is what I had experienced before that time. “Just look straight ahead,” he advised. My daughter ran in front, encouraging me. When I saw her elfin face, with its dimples, I felt strong. I made it onto the ship! I did something I never thought I could.

There is something thrilling about taking off via Sydney Harbour on a ship. White smoke and lights streamed forth and my daughter delighted everyone with her cartwheels and dancing. We were both exhausted by 8.30pm, and so I bid my friends goodnight. In the morning we walked around the ship, and munchkin uncovered a candy shop with treats as big as her head. It was a great mini-cruise, as we met up with our friends, my daughter could go to kid’s club and activities and I could spend time looking out to sea, without having a thousand things on my mind. On Saturday evening there was a Great Gatsby party, and munchkin loved being a part of it.

I had some smashing cocktails whose main ingredient was gin. I tried dancing, but ended up throwing my walking stick and hitting a man next to me. Oops! Time to sit down! My daughter elected to go on the flying fox over the ship, and enjoyed it so much, she did it three times.

As the sun set, we raised a toast to our friend, Trish. We talked of the past and of her future dreams. None of the ladies’ present had been set an easy path, filled with even surfaces. Hell no! Collectively, we had all tripped on cobbled, uneven and treacherous surfaces. We have the scars to prove it. I didn’t do things like this in my younger years. Even going camping would have meant purchasing equipment. Life was reduced to having enough funds for surgery and IVF, and then to make sure I had everything my baby needed. I have learnt that adventures are necessary, for the mind and the soul. Decisions are made, minds are eased and fun is had. Life can’t just be a tedious, painful trip to the grave, can it? I want more for my child. I want to show her the big wide world, whilst sheltering her from con-artists. I want to show her oceans and fields of lavender, rainforests and castles. I am sick of stuff, and all it represents. I want experiences, as does she.

The only way is up from here, kid. I am so glad that I got to spend time with these remarkable women and this remarkable child. I cringed as my phone came back into range and was flooded with texts, missed calls, emails and Facebook messages. Unless it can be arranged to have me cloned, all will be seen to in good time. I have bags to unpack, washing to be done, stories to write and a child to school. I have a friend who turned forty by heading to the ocean, the negative ions cleansing all our psyche’s. One of the single ladies in our group made a new friend on the ship, and they are going on another little cruise in April! Yes! That is it! I want to be like Bronwyn! I want to smile and be open to new possibilities, and to say yes to things I haven’t done before. I want to force myself to consider that there are more honest, decent people in this world than foul. I want to one day believe it again.

Update from Raphaela

October 5, 2015October 7, 2015 raphaela9910 Comments

I received some devastating news last Friday. It came in the form of a group email, stating that my publisher had gone into receivership the previous Monday. I read and re-read the email, unable to take it in. I worked hard for two years, promoting my book and also planning eight further titles. The room spun as I tried to gather my thoughts. It meant that I wouldn’t receive royalties, and that the income I hoped to receive whilst home schooling my daughter wouldn’t be forthcoming. Life had to continue, even as I struggled to process what had occurred. I took my daughter to a friend’s home, as she was going to go to an ice-skating party with a bunch of girls. I didn’t talk about what had occurred. Instead this mum and I laughed about all manner of things until tears streamed from my eyes. It was such a release. I found it hard to leave and go back home to try to do the practical things necessary in this crisis.

On the Saturday, I attended a 40th birthday party for a courageous friend. I have watched her create a wonderful life for herself and her girls over the past eight years. It hasn’t been easy, but she has done it. There was a fire pit, and I sat mesmerized as the flames danced. I haven’t been sleeping since this occurred, feeling as though I am in limbo. I can’t do anything until the receiver’s get in touch and let the author’s know about their books. I am stunned that we were told in such a manner, and angry that the publisher didn’t live up to many parts of the contract. I had to trust that they would, as we have to do on many occasions. Trust a person’s word. Trust them on face value.

My daughter was asked if she could climb a glorious tree in a friend’s backyard and thread through lighting and mirror balls in preparation for a house-warming. She is an avid climber and had a ball helping out. I sat underneath this beautiful tree, and it reminded me of the one in The Magic Faraway Tree.

The light shot out and changed colour every minute. It turned the tree into a kaleidoscope of luminescence. The kids chased each other and threw water balloons, and I listened to the band singing ‘Blackbird’ by The Beatles. At that particular moment, all was calm in my world. There were tears as I talked with friends, but there was also laughter. I feel the need to display to my daughter how one can bounce back from betrayal and disappointment. It helps to sit in a lush backyard with a beautiful community of people on a Spring evening. A galah joined us, and to our surprise, regaled us with a stream of profanities! It was perfect in its whimsy. I am so tired that I can’t think. I am so anxious that my stomach is in knots and my body is shaking. I feel a cacophony of emotions and dread the thought of starting again.

Start again I must, for there is a little girl watching; a child that I have to provide for. There are friends and magic trees and visiting galah’s with rude vocabularies. There is music and sunshine and giggling and water bombs.

Home Schooling in Sydney

September 19, 2015 raphaela998 Comments

Picture by 12 year old homeschooler, James — Hummingbird picture by 12 year old home schooler, James Julian

To register for home schooling in New South Wales, you need to apply online. Bostes then get in touch, and arrange a visit. I frantically put together a program for the year, ensuring curriculum targets are achievable. I have just had my review and was given two years accreditation, of which I am thrilled! I journal what my daughter has studied each day so I can keep track. I have been flawed at the wonderful reactions I have received since I started this journey. Everybody has been so supportive, and it has certainly made the going easier. I was worried that I would receive negative comments, though thankfully they haven’t come. My daughter sees friends most days, and sometimes asks for home time, as there are so many excursions we can go on! We usually start around 8am, and do a solid four hours before lunch. My daughter goes to singing, drama, guitar and gymnastics lessons on top. I am thrilled with her progress and relieved that I made the right decision in home schooling. As a parent, you second-guess yourself (frequently), but the proof is that her confidence has returned and the pressure has eased. There is nobody to compete or compare with, and she can absorb information in her own time.

Sydney has a very active home schooling community, and we are blessed to have met many wonderful kids and parents. In three terms, she has acted in plays and attended performances at the Opera House and Casula Powerhouse. She has visited May Gibb’s home, been involved in a sports carnival, toured the Opera Centre, Sydney Observatory, Wildlife World and attended a science workshop as well as puppet-making. I have to be organized, to keep up with it all! I start my writing when her school day finishes, and often get up early to do so too. We have a comfortable routine. I love doing life with this kid, and I am definitely smarter as a result of absorbing information!

Here is a poem about home schooling from one of my daughter’s friends. I love the perspective of an 11-year-old!

Home Schoolers

Someone freaky,

Someone wild.

Someone cheeky,

So much a child.

Without the school uniform,

Without the Smiggle bag,

Someone who’s not the norm,

Without the shop’s latest tag.

Home schoolers, Home schoolers,

That’s who we are.

Friendly with people of every age,

Each of us a shining star.

Free, not in school’s restricting cage.

We’re all unique,

We’re all ourselves.

We’re all home schoolers,

That’s who we are!

Someone weird,

Someone new.

Not much revered,

Sounds like me, sounds like you.

But, whoever I want to be,

Home schooler?

Is there something cooler?

Well, I’ve decided: me.

-Jemma Julian, 4/09/2015

For many kids, it’s the perfect fit. To be able to devise a programme that caters to your child’s interests is a blessing. Wherever we go in Sydney, there are friends to visit and fun to be had.

Camping, Frogs and Friendship

September 11, 2015 raphaela9910 Comments

Camp was amazing! I feel that I am not the same person who left home a week ago. Staying places by myself (albeit with child), is not something I have done much of, and certainly not so far away. It was mainly to do with safety, and gradually it was born of terror. Fear isn’t a strong enough word. What if something happened? What if I fell sick? I would be all alone. Can I rely on myself? The answer was that I could. We left early afternoon, and by the time we were an hour away, dusk was folding in. I had visions of driving around in the dark, unable to find the place! “Breathe though it,” I told myself. I tremulously opened the door to our cabin and was astounded at how lovely it was. I got a great deal as it was off-season. In my adult life, I have only had a few short breaks away, all available funds going into IVF and surgeries. The kitchen was bigger than mine back home! My daughter had a great deal of fun exploring! That night, I had the best sleep I have had in years, and actually slept in! We then met our fellow campers. My daughter was asked to play spotlight by an older girl and delivered back to the cabin afterward. It meant a lot as a mum.

She organized her social life with a little friend for the next day, and met up at 9am for putt putt golf. When we went to get supplies from the local supermarket, she found a little tree frog at the doors. She brought it back to the cabin, and lovingly placed it in a box filled with grass. She found the perfect spot to relocate him, brimming with frogs, and went by herself to release her tiny friend.

It is officially Spring here in Australia, and whilst the sun beamed down, the swimming pool was still freezing. Things like that don’t matter to kids and she took the plunge. The women gathered as the kids played, and I found their intuitive, compassionate take on child-rearing and schooling awe-inspiring. They were my tribe, filled with artists, students, dancers and writers. We went on a koala walk, where the kids found buried treasure. The day ended at the fire pit, telling each other stories.

The next day, we tried hula hooping. To my amazement, I could sustain a weighted hoop, once I had been taught to take a step, rather than try to swivel it (impossible with a fused back). One of the new friends I made was a single mum, with a remarkable child and 5 week old puppy. The puppy considered my cane more of a prize than the stick he was offered, and ran off with it! It took some coaxing to get it back. This mum was an astoundingly gifted artist. Mainstream school wasn’t working for her child, so she packed up their life. bought a camper van and car, and hit the road. As her child played with the kids and his puppy, I was privileged to witness a young life restored with the joy it deserved. The cruel taunts of classmates was being replaced with the reinforcement of other’s encouragement. How brave and inspiring was my new friend, to leave her old life and plunge into the unknown? I hope their lives are filled with the peace they deserve.

We played board games in my cabin that evening, the kids overtaking us at Beat the Parents. There was much laughter and irreverence and happiness. I had nowhere to go and had abandoned my to-do list. I had stopped and was living in the moment. I hadn’t realized how stressed I had been. I slept brilliantly when removed from it all. On the way home, we stopped at a wildlife sanctuary. My daughter loved the piglets and gravitated to them at feeding time. She also fed wallabies.

She went on rides and we were hugged by an enormous Drop Bear! To the uninitiated, visitors to Oz are sometimes warned that koala bears drop out of trees and get quite cranky. Of course, it isn’t true!

We could have gone out on the water and seen whales and pods of dolphins, but the days were filled with connecting, walking and resting. We came home ready to continue on, bolstered by the friendships we had made.