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Switching Off

May 20, 2013 Musings

A week or so ago, I got rid of my iPad. It started last year, when I turfed the iPhone. Remember I mentioned that I never used it? Initially, I think the house fire changed us for the worse. We did without a lot of basic things for a couple of weeks. Then the contents payout came. We got maximum payout, and BAM! The frustration of doing without, the feelings of loss, the grief of losing most of our baby photos, all came to a head.

Yes, we first bought all the things we needed. We replaced our clothes, our chest freezer, wardrobes, towels, bed linen, and so much more. Now, being the good little bargain shoppers we are, we had quite a lot of money left over. When you have a lot of self-pity about your situation and a large wad of money, that’s a recipe for disaster. It’s all too easy to tell yourself, ‘we’ve been through so much, poor us! We deserve to treat ourselves.’ I still don’t think it’s a bad thing to treat yourself anytime, but yeah, I still believe we deserved some happiness after the fire.

But buying things is such a short lived way to make yourself happy. When we first started replacing our basic need items, it made us feel really good, as I think it would for anyone. The trouble is, once all our things were replaced, we just kept on going, to enjoy that feeling over and over again. Some Prada sunglasses here, some designer handbags there. An upgraded iPhone, an iPad. We bought the kids a lot of toys, and fun things, because they’d lost so many in the fire. My eldest daughter lost most of her special things, including birthday presents. But then we just kept going.

When you’re buying so many things in quick succession (and I will point out all these things were bought with our bargain shopping mindset intact), it’s like this constant rush. I won’t lie; it’s nice to have bought a few things we don’t necessarily need just for the enjoyment of it. But a lot of it was just stuff. Stuff which takes up too much space. Stuff which makes it harder to find other stuff. Stuff you have to clean around and trip over.

For me, the technology stuff was the biggest lesson. The iPad was cool. It still impresses me as to the things it can do, the convenience. The problem is for me, it was a little too convenient. I, like most people I’d imagine, have a lot of things to do during any given day. I do my best to get them done. I was realising a few weeks ago, though, just how easy it is to grab an iPad ‘for a second’ or ‘a few minutes’ simply because I could. I didn’t have to wait for the computer to start, I could just quickly look at facebook, twitter and my favourite sites.

I’d run a bath. Now, being an old house, running a bath for someone can take a long time. So, I’d say to myself, ‘well, while I’m waiting, I’ll just have a look at the iPad’. Never mind that there are a gazillion other things I could be getting done during that time. I’d go sit outside to enjoy the picturesque views of the mountains, and guess what I’d do? ‘Oh well, since I’m sitting down, I’ll look at my iPad.’ My partner would want to talk to me, and I’d tell him to be quiet because I was reading. Charming.

It kept building up like that. A minute here, a minute there, still getting some things done, but running around like a headless chook to do them, with this messed up perception that I had no time to do them all. I do have time. It’s just that all those seconds, those minutes grabbed on the go, well, they add up.

It was easy to get rid of the iPhone, given I rarely to never used it. The iPad was different, obviously because I was using it regularly. But I came to a point where I felt that this wasn’t what I wanted from my life. This wasn’t how I wanted my kids to think life is lived. That we need to check in with the net every once in a while. No one will ever convince me the internet is evil. I love it. I benefit from it greatly everyday. I just think now, that I needed to put the internet for me, in its rightful place. It’s great to be connected to the rest of the world in such an instant way. It’s just that now I’m learning it’s not healthy for it to be so constant. I’d always justify it by telling myself I wasn’t on there for hours. That’s true, I wasn’t. By telling myself, ‘just a sec,’ I could convince myself I was limiting my usage. Thing is, when it’s so portable and doesn’t even take time to load up, you can be connected constantly without even realising it.

I see so many people of all different ages, doing the thumb shuffle on their smart phones. It’s depressing to look at. I felt so smug; that’s not me. I was using my smart phone so little I got rid of it! See how wonderful I am? Are you impressed with my self control? I’ve come to realise that the only reason I didn’t get so hooked on my smart phone is because I hate squinting at the small screen. I was using my iPad the same way others use their smart phones. Maybe I wasn’t taking it down the street with me because it’s not as small. It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to feel like some sort of a twisted little cyborg anymore.

I’m still connected, and always plan to be. I’m still learning to curb my internet usage. I’ll probably always need to find ways to tame the urge. Now, though, it’s different. I’m loving having to wait for the laptop to start up. I’m loving being able to tell myself, ‘it’s not worth stopping what you’re doing right now to wait for that thing to load,’ then getting on with living my life. Doing the things I thought I had to rush around to do because of my perceived lack of time.

I mentioned just the other day how I’ve started enjoying Keek. My partner and I very nearly agreed that because I finally had a use for a smart phone, maybe I should just get a cheap one? It bugged me for a while, then I realised, my partner has a smart phone. He shares it with me anytime I ask, and I don’t ask often. Why is our first thought to go out and buy a second one?

I think I’m just so tired of the waste. My wasteful thinking, trying to shake wasteful spending habits and watching the waste go on all around me in this world. I’m just going to share my partner’s phone.

I think I’m slowly waking up. Waking up from this electronic stupor.

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Ciderfest

May 18, 2013 Country Living, Food

Today was the annual Ciderfest, another first for us. I gotta admit, I wasn’t in the mood for a festival today. I’m tired, have a headache and didn’t feel like rugging all the kids up and listening to, ‘Mum, can I have?’ all day long. It happens. Not just that, but my partner has an expensive appointment coming up with his back surgeon, so I wanted to play it tight. I opted for dressing like a dropkick (read: daggy but warm), checking it out and taking some shots for the blog, because I know some of you enjoy the local photos. Plus, my idea was to suss it out so we’ll know what’s good for next year.

It didn’t take long for my mood to change once I got out into the fresh air. The vibe was happy, and lordy lordy, all I could smell everywhere I went was so much beautiful food! Now, I’ve mentioned before that I have no appetite these days, so I was chuffed to have that changed for me.

There were blueberry pancakes, Thai food stalls, fresh jam and produce, dutch pancakes, pretty much something for everyone. I came home with a cider for my partner. I was a bit bummed that they don’t do an alcohol-free version, but hey…

I told my partner when I came home about a stall selling pork, apple sauce and gravy bread rolls and organic apples. He looked at me like I’d grown two heads, and said, ‘why didn’t you bloody get some?’ So…. down the hill I went for three rolls. They were delish!

Also, I grabbed three kilos of organic apples for three bucks a kilo. Nice. Our kids go through apples too quickly, so this was an excellent buy.

Also, I’ve since discovered Keek, which I’ll now be using instead of Tout. It’s so much better, because you can type a response to a video, rather than having to make a video to respond, and oh my god, there’s not all the wrestling and sports hysteria over there! If you’re on Keek, let me know, because I’d love to find some people to follow on there. Here’s a quicky of the festival:

May 17, 2013 | a quick look at #ciderfest by Funken_Wagnel on Keek.com

I hope you’re having a lovely weekend.

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A Fork in the Road

May 16, 2013 Musings

I feel as though I’m in the last year of high school all over again. Next year, my youngest child starts school. I watch my partner work hard at his treatment everyday. For the last twelve years, I’ve been a stay at home mum. During some of that time, I did a little bit of work from home, and in the earlier years, did some casual work outside the home if my partner was home to look after the kids. For the past four-ish years, I’ve been a carer to my partner.

It’s strange being a carer to a man whose disability isn’t physical. Sure, he started out with a lot of physical issues after his paint poisoning. Now, the battle mostly takes place in his mind.

I started this blog without much life direction going on. With a willingness to get to know the new person I’ve been forced to become. Since then, I’ve discovered a few things I’d like out of my life, my family’s life. I want to aim for as sustainable a life as possible. I want us to grow our own food organically. I want to reduce the waste in our home. I want to install solar power and rain water tanks. I want to make my health a higher priority. For so many years, it hasn’t been.

Next year, after twelve years, I won’t be looking after our children for 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. I view this as not only a break, but also a chance to work more with my partner to get better. We want to walk the kids to school together, then continue walking for an hour every morning. I’ve mentioned before that my partner has appointed me as his ‘anchor’ in terms of his agoraphobia. This means that he feels most secure when he is with me. He can leave the house without me, but he’s always been more comfortable doing that with me. Over the past four years, I’ve watched him evolve. That rope attached to me, the one that used to strangle me, has gradually become longer and longer. Next year, I’ll have more time to help him keep loosening that anchor rope more and more over time.

I don’t know if he’ll work again, at least in a conventional capacity. I know it’s the one thing he wants back from his old life, more than anything else. It’s something he’s willing to work towards, and I’m willing to encourage that. I don’t want him to feel pressured to do this, though. As my youngest heads off to school, the possibilities for me to become the breadwinner widen. Or do they? I’m so conflicted about the idea of me working. I’ve made no secret of the fact that I struggle with living on a pension. Not financially. My pride wants us off it. There are a lot of times I struggle to accept our new reality, and it’s not that new anymore. Will I be ok with the idea of always being on a pension? I don’t think so.

Because my partner’s disability is not physical, I have no idea what type of work arrangement would match our family situation. There are certain types of work I can easily rule out, because I know they wouldn’t work for us. I grapple with trying to work out how much I’m needed at home with my partner. In the early days, I was definitely needed constantly. I also need to evaluate the logistics of how the house would be run if I were out working more. If I were certain I could hire a cleaner, that would make the decision easier, but not entirely simple. My partner helps around the house when he can, but it depends on how he’s coping, really.

So, when I try to decide what career I’d potentially like to pursue, it’s frustrating. If I take a few years to study, how do I look into the future to ascertain my partner’s illness then? He’s improving at the moment, but I don’t know what the future holds. Whether he’ll keep getting better, or start getting worse. Whether he’ll be in a wheelchair by then.

I don’t know anymore which career would be best. When I was single, all I had to think about was what suited me. Now, I have four others to consider. The qualifications I gained back then don’t necessarily fit in with my family’s needs. When I started this blog, I was sure I wanted to become a journalist. Now I’m undecided. I’ve enrolled twice to study it, and had to pull out both times. Frustrating. The first time was straight after the fire, and the second time was when I became sick.

I don’t know if freelance writing is practical if I’m looking to be our sole breadwinner. The times I’ve done it have been great, don’t get me wrong, but I get frustrated waiting weeks, or in one case, months, to get paid for one article. How would that work with a family, if we don’t have the pension as backup? I’m interested in working outside of the home for a small, local newspaper, but then I have to consider the hours away from my family. What sort of strain that will put on my partner.

I see the need for psychologists in the region and consider that. I consider teaching high school English. Or starting a market garden. I just don’t know. I never knew I’d be 39, feeling like a graduating student again, asking the ‘what do you want to do for a living?’ question all over again. It’s exciting in some ways, because I’m ready for some sort of change. I’m ready for ambition, but I don’t know that my ambition is the best thing for my family, just yet.

I put pressure upon myself, because I feel once my youngest is at school, I should have more of a plan. I have a good plan in terms of how I want to help my partner as his carer. But, if I want to work toward a career as well, shouldn’t I be doing pushups in the meantime? Studying? Interning? How do I do that if I don’t hurry up and make a damn decision?

Bottom line for me is, that if one of us can work, we should. I’m happy to be it. I see my younger two kids with a skewed view of where money comes from, and work. It’s different for my eldest. She’s seen us both work. She knows how it’s meant to be for a healthy family. She understands the pension. The younger two, not so much. They need someone to role model a work ethic, to see that being on a pension was never a career or lifestyle choice.

So, lovely readers, this is where I am. Full of hope, optimism, ambition, yet uncertainty. I feel as though I’m this close to figuring it out. To having a plan.

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Here Comes the Snow

May 15, 2013 Family, Garden

We’re almost at the end of Autumn here, and things are getting freezing here. As this’ll be our first full Winter here, we’re madly getting ready for it. We need more warm clothes, and we need ‘em now. So, off to Wagga Wagga we went today. None of us felt like going out in this frosty weather, but thankfully Wagga was warmer, so it worked out. We stopped at Adelong first. This antique shop caught my eye because of the spinning wheel on display. It was a good price, now if I can just find out whether or not it works…

This store wasn’t open, but a friendly local noticed us making noises about it, so told us that the owner runs the taxidermy store in Tumut and that if we ring her, she’ll come open up for us. Good to know, but we’ll probably hold off on the taxidermy part, huh?

I also loved this shelf and the two bowls. I think they’d suit our little alpine cottage beautifully.

We hit Bunnings for some supplies and firewood. We knew we were getting firewood delivered by a local today, but we also knew it’d be soaked from the rain, so we needed a little something to keep us going. Look at Skinny Minny in the background there! Changing meds is really agreeing with him, don’t you think?

I needed more blueberry and raspberry bushes. I’ve decided I want to plant 6 raspberries and 12-14 blueberries. The only annoying thing about getting them from Bunnings though, is that they only seem to have one type of each plant. Some of the strains I want will need to be purchased online, I think.

One of the hardest things I found about this tree change when we were new from Sydney, was going without sushi for so long. At least, until we found two places at Wagga that makes it well. We started out getting our fix at a juice bar at Sturt Mall, but once we discovered Sumo Salad, we don’t have sushi withdrawals so much anymore.

We ran out of time to do get everything we set out for, but we had a lovely day, and got enough warm things to keep us going until next trip. In the meantime, I’d love to hear from any experts on the best places to get snow/cold weather gear from. We have loads of great parkas from Next Direct, and are happy with the quality and prices. We have one pair of snowboots from there as well, but sometimes we’ve found shoe sizing to be a bit hit and miss from this store. We’re also trying to find out where we can get thermal long johns at a good price for the little ‘uns. We’re going to check out the Aldi snow sale in June, too. Anyone else know some good places, either online or off?

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Guess I’m Low Calibre. Oh Shoot.

May 8, 2013 Musings

Hello. My name is Sharon. I cannot show you my face because I’m a low-calibre woman. I have no degree. I am not earning a high income.

I wear ugg boots and track suit pants…

…in public.

I have slightly bogan leanings. I have a staffy. I rock out to The Angels, Acca Dacca and Metallica. In my house, we celebrate farts, burps and toilet humour.

Sorry to say Tony, but you should’ve discouraged me from having children a lot sooner. Had you told me I was not the sort of woman who should procreate, then I may not have given birth to three kids. I may not have given birth to Missy 12, who is a two years running spelling bee winner. But that’s not all she’s good at.

She has blitzed every NAPLAN test she’s sat, either getting grades in the highest band, but usually the arrow leading up and outside of the highest band. Since starting her first year of high school, she’s been acheiving 90-100% marks in Geography, Science, Math and Japanese. My father thinks she could easily be the first doctor in our family. She won’t be. She wants to grow food. Not exactly high calibre by Mr Abbott’s standards, but by her standards, biodiversity and sustainability are worthy goals. This is what she wants to contribute to our planet.

I have a son who is 6 years old. He wants to be a Dad. He also wants a job that will make him lots of money. He hasn’t decided what job that is yet. He’s as smart as Missy 12, but where she shines in English, he shines in Math. I feel he too could pursue any career he wanted, as long as it’s colour-blind friendly.

As for Missy 5; well, it’s too young to tell where her strengths lie yet, as she isn’t in school. But it wasn’t too long ago that she casually informed me that George of the Jungle has a Lion King reference in it. She wants to be a doctor when she grows up. Time will tell.

For the most part, my kids are kind, polite and considerate. Like all kids, they have their moments. We don’t take ourselves too seriously, we laugh at ourselves, and we love each other fiercely. My children are clean and well-fed. They are clothed, sheltered and healthy.

I don’t know why Mr Abbott’s comments offended me so much today. Perhaps it’s because not long ago, many Australians were whining about losing a tiny bit of tax for the NDIS, but today they’re cheering that women who are already on high incomes will be given rather a lot of money should they have children, courtesy of the government purse. It’s been compared to holiday pay, which funnily enough, doesn’t come out of taxpayers’ pockets.

I’m not suggesting Mr Abbott should give me the money instead of ‘high calibre’ women. I honestly couldn’t give a piss what I get. We’re chugging along ok on our pensions here. We get by.

Here’s what I’m tired of: I’m tired of the assumption that low-socioeconomic women are terrible mothers. That our children are disadvantaged. That our children will amount to nothing. That children from low-income homes don’t get offers from selective schools (oh yes, they do). That we have no morals, no brains and basically no clue about child-rearing. That having money and a degree is what it takes to make an excellent parent. That mere money can buy a child a loving home.

I’ve been watching this ‘high calibre’ mess unfold on social media today, and it seems when someone states they’re offended, they’re accused of ‘looking for reasons to be offended’. Yes, Mia Freedman, I’m sure it would appear that way from your ivory tower. When I logged on today, I wasn’t thinking to myself, ‘hmmm, let’s see if I can find something to be offended by. Anything shall do.’

No. I was offended because once again, Tony Abbott opened his mouth and said something highly offensive. It was offensive to TAFE-qualified child care workers. It was offensive to waitresses, shop assistants, people who work in garbage disposal. Those aren’t the sort of people we want breeding now, is it? Because people of that calibre would know nothing of responsibility, kindness or safety. They’re all unintelligent, unloving bogans. Probably druggies too, right?

This isn’t a moment of victory for feminism. If it were, it wouldn’t be part of a tax bribe. It’d be recognised as just as essential as holiday pay, and would therefore come out of the companies’ pockets, would it not? This is Tony Abbott, once again trying to claim he ‘gets’ women, when in reality, nothing could be further from the truth.

Tony Abbott’s comments today for a second, made me feel like an inadequate mum. For a second. Until I remembered all the great, successful people from history who came from low-income upbringings. People who were strengthened and moulded into something special because of their circumstances, and not despite them. I felt inadequate for a second, but then I remembered by my own standards, I am proud of the job I’m doing with my children. I follow my instincts to do what is right for them. I nurture them not only with food and love but I also nurture their passions, their interests.

I say ‘I’, and not ‘we’, because my partner is a male, and Mr Abbott doesn’t need men to prove their ‘calibre’ to him, does he? They’re just men. No-one cares if a man is a slut, is attractive, has child-bearing hips or comes from good stock.

If I could say one thing to Tony right now, it’d have to be something dreadfully low-calibre such as, get a dog up ya, mate.

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No More TV Dinners

May 5, 2013 House

When I was pregnant with Missy 5, our last child, there came a point where I panicked. We were at the time, a family of four, with a beautiful, round, solid Jarrah dining table that my father had made for me, with gorgeous matching chairs. We were living in Oatley, with our pokey little dining room at the time, and our dining set crammed into one corner. My dad had made this table for me when I was a single girl renting alone in Kogarah.

I didn’t know quite how to point out to my dad at the time that our beloved little table wasn’t going to fit us anymore! I asked him what the etiquette was; do I buy a bigger dining table and break his heart, give him back the Jarrah table (no space for two dining sets!) or what? In the end, Dad and I agreed to do nothing, as a larger dining table wouldn’t fit anyway.

So, we ended up moving to Stockinbingal. My dad had some health issues which prevented him from making extremely heavy furniture as he was used to. I kept looking at dining settings in shops and online, and was prepared to buy something when we got the money and actually found something I loved enough. I never found the right dining setting. I did pick up a very old, cheap dining set to fit us all for $20 in the meantime. It was horrible, but practical.

When we sold that house to our neighbour, Dad and I agreed to gift him with the Jarrah setting. I do miss it, as it was beautiful, but sometimes the things we love just take too much space! I didn’t want to bring the twenty buck table either.

So, as we tried to work out the right table for us, we’d been eating dinners in front of the telly. Hey, at least we were all together, and had food in our bellies, right? But, it was bugging my dad that we hadn’t sorted this out yet. He came up with a plan: a flat-pack dining table that was made of lighter wood than his pre-illness creations (think Jarrah table, rosewood bed..), that he would send to us and we would put together, sand and stain ourselves.

He sent one part by courier, and delivered what he could fit into his sedan to us on our meet-up at Yass. We’ve been putting together, sanding, staining, and now we’re done! No more TV dinners.

I didn’t give any input into the design with this table, except to give a colour preference for the stain. But how did he pick the exact table design I couldn’t find in any shop? Well done, Dad! I call this my ‘farmhouse table’, despite us not living on a farm. Because our kitchen is tiny, this 8-seater will not only fit us all, but give us more food prep space. For anyone wondering why there is a washing machine in the background, yes! Our dining room has its laundry on the end. It’s a long, thin room.

Now, Dad is in the process of making some beautiful Welsh flat-pack chairs to match. We’re lucky buggers here. Long live handmade!

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