I’ve reached a mile stone in my blogging and I’m feeling very good about it. Over a year ago My Brother Nigel had convinced me to start blogging. He very proudly would brag about his partner Sharon who is Hearmumroar so I gave it ago. I was very slow to start with producing I think only three blogs. A year later he was on at me again “come on Sis give it ago, you’ve got a lot to say, comeoooon!!!!”
He really could be a sales person for blogging, because his persuasiveness paid off and I gave it another crack. This time I’ve hung in there and been consistent and I’m totally loving it. thanks Nige!!!! I love to blog, it’s very enjoyable to get my opinion out there and I find that’s it’s another expressive tool to my creativity.
My son is starting school come Monday and it’s only two more sleeps!! Where did the time go? Five years have gone swiftly yet not unnoticed as It’s been full of drama’s and joys. I know he’s ready to go because he’s been like a cooped up puppy this last week of holidays. I’m confident he’ll be fine, he’s going into an IO class of only five children. He will get the nurturing he needs and because the school has a wonderful integration program he will be challenged as well.
The real issue here is, will I be ready and am I prepared enough? I’m having anxiety just thinking of his lunch box!!! will he have enough food and do I wrap his sandwich in glad wrap?? Have I got the right shoes and I’ve just realized that I’ve purchased nothing to fill his pencil-case!!!!
How did Mum handle my first day of school? I was determined that I was not going to school and back then they didn’t have “transition to school” days. When mum and everyone was wanting to take photo’s of me I looked to the ground in a defiant sulk. The only reason I gave up and compromised (as if I was really in charge) was mum told me they do painting at school. So I had my first school day and it was spent the whole day pestering the teacher asking her “when are we going to paint?”
When mum came to pick me up the first thing I said to her was “you said I was going to paint and I didn’t!!!” I was crying when the words were coming out. I guess you can call me a true and passionate artist right from the beginning. I can’t imagine my littlin crying over a lack of paint, in fact I’m not sure he will cry at all. My hope for him is that he has fun and makes nice friends. I’ll just go and have a nice coffee and enjoy the space.
Today as I was sitting around a table reminiscing with some ladies and we fondly recalled our trampoline adventures. You know? The pre net around the trampoline days, the days especially in summer when you soaped up the mat and propped the hose to squirt through the mat to make it a dangerous, slipping time!!
I can remember doing somersaults and landing in the springs only to free myself from the tangle and do it again. We had so many misadventures to tell, like putting the trampoline close to the pool so you can jump right in with an almighty splash. Yesterday’s trampoline was so much fun with much room for adventurous expression and it makes me wonder, what will the stories be that our kids will tell to the next generation?
Today’s trampoline has a nice netting around it that hinder’s the child from bouncing off and injuring themselves. As a Mum, I must admit that the idea of protective netting seemed to satisfy my “safety first” sensibilities. So how does the child of today jump with recklessness? I’ll tell you how, by gathering all their toys and catapulting them with such exuberance and edgy cleverness. No matter how much we like to protect our kids from danger they will find a way to make it risky.
Zachy spends hours jumping and he’s never alone, there is always the sound of something jangling as he bounces. I believe it is not recommend but I am totally impressed with the skill and ability to make up a game as he bounces. I let him do it with confidence because I know that these adventures teach our kids valuable lessons on life.
As a society we have become very safety conscious, which is a good thing but lets not throw the baby out with the bath water. I know I just quoted an over used statement but it expresses rightly my thoughts on this very interesting topic.
During my teens and early twenty’s I had very long hair and dressed like a hippy. I really wasn’t the makeup type of chick and I really didn’t care much for fashion. Having long hair was great and it was low maintenance, although I had to hold it over my shoulder when I ate or paid a visit to the toilet.
I can remember at a certain age longing for a make over, I may have been about 22. I was getting tired of the look, the hair, the image and thinking to myself that I’d like to explore a fresh new look. At the time I was seeing another hippy type of guy and I thought we were going to get married. I was holding on to the long hair because I wanted our wedding to reflect our hippy look. I really do not recommend this thought pattern, it can really hold you back in life.
Then something truly amazing happened, he broke up with me and in the process set me free. I am so thankful for his honesty and bravery as it really did enable me to grow and move on with my life an a positive way. So the first thing I did was visit the hairdresser and got my long blond hair all cut off. I felt so relieved and exhilarated and to this day I have never regretted my decision to cut my hair.
The aftermath of my hair cutting came quite a surprise to me, it was like the whole world took a collective gasp of horror that I could do such a thing. I could not believe the insanity of it all. Some quite openly told me it was a stupid thing to do other’s referred to it as an act of rebellion from being dumped. Strangers on a bus would gasp and then exclaim “you cut your hair”!!
For the world around me, my hair cutting expedition was more a trauma to them then it was for me. I’ve often thought about this catatonic reaction of other’s and wondered what on earth were people thinking ? Did my long hair keep them safe and unchallenged? Had people boxed me to be the long hair chick forever?
For a time I felt insulted by some of the comments that were thrown at me and to this day I view them as out-of-order but without anger. What people didn’t realise was that I was a young girl wanting to grow up and mature. I was and am a person, I am not my hair. I think the world saw my hair and labeled me as such and how dare I do something to shatter that image.
Well many years have passed and I am now 38 and if I had to do it all again I would just do the same. We all mature and grow and we can’t stay forever in our little boxes. My hair is not my identity for my name is Tamar and I’m not my long blond hair.
When I was pregnant I painted this wardrobe for my little one, who I knew was a baby boy. This wardrobe was mine and I can remember my mum painting it when I was a youngster, she painted it white and lime green. So now it was my turn to pass and paint the wardrobe to my offspring in which I throughly enjoyed doing.
My thoughts about this project was that it would be an ongoing art work that changed with my son’s growth. Zach’s 5 now and I’m thinking perhaps soon I’ll have to revamp the drobe!!! I haven’t really got any ideas at this stage, but I’ll have to come up with something soon. My Son can’t possibly have “dream clouds” on his wardrobe forever.
When I do come up with something I’ll execute the idea and post a blog about it. I love this process of creativity and sharing.
I simply cannot escape the wonder that is “doing the washing”. Some may think it’s madness but I find it a most relaxing activity. I’v had a few amusing conversations about this topic with two lots of American friends. When I speak of the wonder that is “doing the washing” they looked at me with astonishment as to them only old people hang out the washing!!! everyone else uses dryer’s. Well this fascination with the washing duties has never abated over the years so I really just embrace it with enthusiasm that makes me look mad, I guess?
For the past two day’s I’ve been watching the flood disaster on TV, it seems like I just can’t peel myself away from it. It’s a mammoth event and certainly can not be ignored. Why am I watching this so intently? So many of my fellow Australian’s are facing one of the toughest event’s in their lives.
Some of the story’s that we are hearing are so heartbreaking, yet there are many heart warming ones too. Watching the rolling coverage is captivating and it’s keeping us all who are watching informed. I’m so proud of the way this disaster has been handled by the many wonderful volunteer’s helping out. From rescuing people from roof tops to providing safe places for the children to play while they are at evacuation center’s.
I hope in days and weeks to come we wont forget our Queensland siblings as they face the overwhelming task of rebuilding their lives. My prayers are with you QLD and I shall be donating money to the relief.
My husband talked me into getting an iphone and I’m so glad he did. As you can see I’v bought myself a RetroCamera app and I’m sooo loving it. So yesterday the Fam and I went to the delightful Darling Harbour in Sydney and as you can see from my pic’s I couldn’t resist taking shots of the ferris wheel. Who can resist a shot of the ferris wheel when you can fiddle with your photos and bring a nostalgic element to them.
I really can’t believe myself, as a painter I never thought that I would or, should I say could ever get excited over technology such as the iphone and it’s myriad of applications. A few years ago I went back to TAFE and did digital art and the process frustrated me yet I was impressed with the results. However with this iphone it’s been a delight to play around with and it’s giving me great results. Yay for my husband!!!!
Today I went to a funeral of a lady who I’ve known for about 20 years. Even though she wasn’t regularly in my life I have never forgotten the impact that she made during the time I’ve known her. It was a sudden death and a huge shock and reminded me that no body knows when it’s time to take our last breath. Even though my mum was ill and had been for a while, her death was as equally a shock and hard to deal with.
All of this has made me think of my own departure and how I want it to be conducted. When it’s my turn I want to make it easy as possible for my loved ones left behind. I’m not meaning to be morbid but I see it as being responsible and thoughtful in a time of grief.
I think the first thing to do is have a will, which I finally sorted out just before Christmas. Having that in place is a legal document and it’s the assurance that the beneficiary’s will indeed benefit when I die. I think my next step is to write a letter to my Son. I want him to know that I love him and that his well-being is on the top of my priority list. He needs to know that I treasure him more than my things and he can get rid of anything he wants to when the time comes. I desire not to burden him with clutter but leave a legacy of the love of Christ.
Another step is to effectively live the life I want him be inspired by. Not only shall I write these things in a letter but I really must share these views with him on this side of eternity. I need to communicate what is important so that he can just miss me and not have to be traumatised by any extra things that may arise when I’m gone.
I know this all sounds very heavy but it’s a reality and I want to deal with it as best I can. When Mum was alive this kind of talk used to freak me out. I can’t be freaked out anymore, there is no time for that. I am now a mum myself and I have a responsibly to my child. So this is a start of my expression of how I want it at my end. The letter to my Son will be private and shall be revealed to him at the right time but my everyday life wont.
This has been a hard blog to write, yet I deem it necessary. I hope it inspires some to talk about this topic and not to be too freaked out by it.