Check in

Just posting so those of you who still check this dusty blog know that I'm still around. I'm working on something post-worthy - will let you know as soon as I've got it!

Until then, love to you all. Merry and happy and all that jazz. I haven't sent Christmas cards and I can't promise that I will, although I promise to try and send them. I did buy some. About six months ago. I'm not actually sure where they are...

I had also better pull my finger out and get the Christmas tree up! (I'm such a bad parent!)

Sue must be a happy lady

I heard on the news this morning that a woman is suing Monash after one of the staff accidently dropped her nine embryos on the floor. Seven of them died and the remaining two were implanted but didn't survive.

What is the world coming to when we are no longer able to allow any margin for human error? Sure, it would undoubtedly have been devastating for the woman concerned, but is suing going to make it better for her? Is money going to fix the emptiness in her heart?

Thirty years ago IVF would not have even been an option for her. We are incredibly lucky to live in a time and a country where this sort of medical technology is available. This expectation that humans have to pay every time a mistake occurs is just unreasonable. It's not going to heal her hurt.

I wish people understood that. People don't understand other people, all we understand is money. This is a mad society.

We all know no-one really looks like Barbie

And here's why:

The 'design flaw' - Barbie's legs are 50% longer than her arms, whereas the average woman's legs are only 20% longer than her arms meaning that if Barbie were real, the length of her legs in proportion to her torso would make her unable to walk and she'd be constantly falling on her face. Consequently, It has been estimated that only way a real Barbie could walk upright would be to walk on all fours, as her feet are so proportionately small that her chest would pull her continually forward onto her toes.

Second, if she were human, while crawling around, Barbie would need help looking around as her neck is twice as long as the average human's which would make it impossible to hold up her head.

Thirdly, Barbie weighs about 45.8 kg and is 213cm in height, meaning she would have a Body Mass Index of 10 and would lack the 17 to 22 percent body fat required for a woman to menstruate or have children, if she wanted them.

Lastly, Barbie's body would have room for only half of a liver and only a few centimetres of intestines, as opposed to the usual 7.9 metres. The result: chronic diarrhoea and death from malabsorption & malnutrition. In case anyone wants to look like a Barbie, a healthy woman would need to add 61 cm to her height, subtract 15 cm from her waist, add 13 cm to her chest, and 8 to her neck length. As the recently deceased Body Shop founder, Anita Roddick once told us - there are 3 billion women on the planet who don't look like Barbie; only 8 women come close.

Some pictures for perusal

The very loud but very smooth Cessna. Quinn wanted a green one and was a little miffed that we got blue.
We watched the whales about 3 or 4 km's out from that sand bar. To the right of the sand bar is where we stayed, literally a hop, skip and jump to the water and fantastic views. The water in the forefront of the picture is Merimbula Lake and a great spot for children - but if it's a more wavey, beachy feel you're after, simply walk around behind that sand and there you are!


On Tathra wharf. Tathra is a nice spot, lovely views. About 20 km north of Merimbula.

All aboard the Sea Eagle, on the search for whales...

And we found them. Here are two humpback whales feeding. They only feed in two places during their annual migration, this spot in Merimbula and the Antarctic. Even though they were not interested in playing we were treated to see them feeding.

Holiday

Well we're back :(

I don't want to be home. We had a semi-serious conversation about moving to Merimbula, or thereabouts. I would absolutely do it tomorrow, but for two reasons. a) Matt having to relocate the shop, or even worse, look for a job, and b) losing our network of babysitters and general helper-outerers. I have friends who are away from their family and have heard how hard it can be. How tempting it would be though to get away from this relentless 'have to' life, and I'd do any job. I'm sick of social work. I'm sick of spending more time than I would like in front of a computer screen and less with the kids I work with. I'm sick of court. Court is a joke, it's a circus. I'm sick of DHS making ridiculous, nonsense decisions about childrens "best interests". I'm sick of the entire staff turnover at DHS every 3.5 days. I'm sick of new graduates being employed by Child Protection, barely out of uni and managing the complexities of damaged, hurting and abusive families. I'm sick of bringing my work issues home and thinking about them into the wee hours when I should be recharging my batteries to look after my own children.

I want to be a florist. Or work in a toy shop.

Good things about going away:

• You're not at work, you're not at home
• Excellent uninterrupted, pure family time
• No cooking
  
• It makes you appreciate home and the things that are yours

Bad things about going away:

• You have to come home and face it all again.

What we did:
-beach
-whale watching off a boat called Sea Eagle
-pool (I'm sure it was sub zero temperature but you'll do anything for kids won't you?)
-beach
-spa
-Magic Mountain (should have its name changed to Dodgy Mountain, but the children loved it and we spent a whole day there)
-beach
-spa
-scenic flight up to Tathra
-beach
-beach
-spa
-beach
-Mieke made friends with identical twins, "Freya and Steve" (actually Freya and Neve, but Mieke couldn't get her head around that).

I'll put up some photos when I get them off the camera.

Kate, who still hasn't completely let go of the idea that we could just move away and do something different...

Happy birthday Quinn

Happy number two, my beautiful little fellow. xxx

When I found out we were having a boy I was overjoyed but a little panicked at the same time. I mean, what do I know about boys?

Well now I understand of course that he's more than a boy, he's a person. And such an interesting person too. He's assertive, lively, affectionate, mischievous, so so funny... he's wonderful. And I love him more than I could have ever imagined.

I can't believe he's two already.

Stuff

We're off to Merimbula on Sunday for six (count 'em, six) glorious nights.

Matt has been told by the physio that he is not to walk on sand at all, as it is too unstable for his Stupid Foot. This grim news makes the above statement rather bitter sweet for Matthew.

Mieke completed a one hundred piece puzzle today. Three times. She's a freaky speed puzzler, I'm going to enter her into championships. And then we're going to retire on the fortune she makes for us.

I love that you guys are all loving the blog. And I know that you are because you send emails, discussing the blog. But you can actually comment here if you like. Go on, don't be shy.

Anyhoo, probably won't post again before our road trip to warmer, sandier places, so see you in a week or so!

Ciao, Xin Chao, Au revoir, Gute Nacht, See ya :)

Home ownership

Is it really all its cracked up to be?
We've put the idea of purchasing a home on hold. To save more money. More money.
More.
Money.
We're always going to need more money, we're never going to have enough for this to be comfortable. I feel like it will always be just out of reach for us.
Renting isn't so bad, we get our dishwasher fixed for free and the water leak, and roof tiles. But we can't paint. And we can't put a big pergola up out the back to shade the children while they play. And we can't strip the Yuk floor in the living area and re-finish it. And it'll never be our Yuk floor, we'll never own it.
I suppose, at the end of the day, the upside to this is that there won't be anything for Mieke and Quinn to fight about when we're gone.

Okay, enough. Complaining over.

Just because

Here are photos of my two Best Things.

Post for Andrew

Apparently I'm not frequent enough with my posting! Which is fine in theory but in order to post I find it is more entertaining if one actually has things to write about in a post. I've rummaged around and come up with a few random tidbits.

I am sick. Not cough sneeze sick, berloody sick to my core sick. This is what happens when people don't get sick often - when they do, it's life altering. I've not been to work now for over a week, due in part to Mieke having the same lurgy, then (bless her little cotton socks), she gave it to me. I'm going on leave in under two weeks and I have precisely thirty four and a half million things to do before I go - which includes a court report (for a matter which goes to court while I'm on leave and is likely to be a contested hearing, which means I'll be subpoenaed to give evidence).

Quinn turns two in the very near future and ideas for his present are few and far between. He has way too many clothes. He has way too many toys. What do you buy a two year old if it's not clothes or toys? I have tucked away for him a couple of books and a set of Schleich animals. It feels like it's not enough though. Why do we feel like we have to shower children senseless with stuff? In my experience the more they have the less they appreciate it. Still, I'll make a last minute dash to grab more stuff for him to open on the day - it's inbuilt in me, one of those things I just know about myself.

We saw The Bourne Ultimatum. The best one of the three, though I could have done without the jumpiness of camera in close up dialogue scenes - I think going out too soon and wobbly camera work unraveled my healing efforts and put me back at square one on Sunday - like I was coming down with it all over again. Despite the motion sickness and my body full of aches (and the fact that even though we were in Gold Class I couldn't recline my chair on account of not being able to breathe through my nose, damnit), I really enjoyed watching this movie. There's scope for a fourth too. And even if you hate the concept of the Bourne films, it's totally not hard to look at Matt Damon for ninetysomething minutes. Just as an aside...

My thyroid is fine (poo, no dramatic weight loss for me). My heart readings showed some instances of tachycardia (do I sound all ER?). Simply put, it means rapid heart beating. Next step is keep a diary of when I feel my heart doing it and note what I'm doing at the time, and some other things, and go back to see the doc after a month or so. Doc says is most likely related to stress and anxiety but is not ruling out a referral to a cardiologist if my diary doesn't demonstrate a pattern which correlates with a stress based cause.

Matt and his Stupid Foot (that's its official name now) are on the mend. Finally. He had the plaster off nearly two weeks ago and has been doing exercises to coax it into doing what it's supposed to be doing. He now walks without aids, though only just, and it gets sore if he is on it for too long.

The heart of the matter

I have been having heart palpitations. For over a year. The other day I had such a severe pain across my chest that I thought I may be having a heart attack. Naturally, it frightened me. I truly don't want to be dramatic and alarmist, but a) heart disease in women is often difficult to diagnose as the symptoms vary so greatly and b) the biggest killer of women is heart disease (probably in part due to a) and c) I have a history of heart disease in my family. I took myself off to the Doc who was fairly confident that I do not have a heart attack imminent (he advised me to de-stress which is so totally easy peasy, why didn't I think of that?), but sent me off for a variety of tests anyway. One of which was a thyroid blood test, another was a holter monitor that I wore for twenty-four hours which recorded my heart beats and any abnormalities. I had eight electrodes stuck to me with a battery pack and the monitor itself - I felt as though I looked so suspicious when the wires kept popping out of my top during my grocery shop - though it made the checkout person work a bit faster and talk a bit less, so all in all a positive experience.

During those twenty-four hours, not ONE palpitation. I'm hoping it's my thyroid and when I address it I'll lose 10 kgs in a month - the 'skinny minny' with a working thyroid gland. I like the sound of that. I'll keep you posted with results...

Majestical creatures

I LOVE seahorses. Some of their appeal lies in the fact that it is the male who gets pregnant (dang those females have got it good), but also that they are amusing fish, so unusual in their appearance and entertaining to watch. For a while now I've been thinking about setting up a seahorse tank. I've had numerous goldfish throughout my life and while I found peace and beauty in observing my black moors and red cap orandas, I think it's time for something new and slightly different. I also have to say, goldfish can be pretty sensitive and mine never ate the pea that is supposed to cure the side-float-at-the-top-of-the-tank woes. (I got the pea advice on a goldfish forum - and was abused for cruelty to my goldfish because apparently the tank was too small. Who knew? The guy at the pet shop said they'd be dandy).

Setting up a seahorse environment is expensive, the ph balance and temperature has to be just so, which requires lots of faffing around (the official term) with testing kits. But the cost is totally worth it when you get a glimpse of these gorgeous, sociable, quirky things. And they are stronger and healthier than goldfish so we are less likely to have funerals.

These are the 2 types I have narrowed it down to:
The Southern Champion -
and the Asian Emperor -
Aren't they lovely? I like them both for different reasons, but both as much as the other. The Asian Emperors are commonly brown but can change colour depending on their mood (they have moods!). And the Southern Champs are smaller with fatter pouches and longer tails. Cute as.

Things I've learned this week

(In no particular order)

• I like looking at houses.

Kind of already knew this but now that we're seriously considering buying I have sat up and am taking more notice. It always fascinates me how other people decorate their homes. Personally I have no style, I just like what I like and am easily influenced by others. Some people are incredibly skilled. Others are incredibly not skilled. One of houses I looked at had a bright yellow kitchen bench with red tiles. Total vomit material.

• I internalise most of my physical pain.

And some of my whinging, which is alarming given how much I complain out loud. Matt, on the other hand, externalises Every Single Bit of his. I think we're both learning to meet in the middle. Aren't we Matt?

• My children hate me.

Just when I think I could not possibly last one more night with the incessant sleep disturbance, they wake more often. The night before last was a record 9 times. I am delirious. And the 15 minute block of sleep I did get resulted in a stupidly stiff neck. To spice it up around here we've taken to playing musical beds at random hours through the night. The Hansens, living on the edge. It's always exciting and unusual in this house.
I am seriously thinking about imprisonment for myself in order to get a break. It's the only way I'm going to get any respite in the next few weeks. Anyone know what offence will get me an 8 week stint in the slammer? Will consider most suggestions...
Here are a couple of gorgeous pictures to make what I've just written seem completely implausible.

• I can eat a whole Chocolate Ripple cake in 24 hours.

No further comment.

• I miss exercise.

I know! Anyone who knows me will think I've lost my mind (which is entirely possible), but I really do. With Matt out of action I have not been to the gym or swimming in a month now. There goes my buns of steel and rock hard abs...

• I am attached to Steve Bracks.

Sounds ridiculous but he's the only premier I've liked since I became interested in the politics of Victoria. My fondness for Bracksy was probably enhanced by the fact that I loathed Kennett. I know Steve had his shortcomings but he always seemed so genuine, so 'human'. I think he and his Cabinet made a lot of gains for Victoria. Not wanting to sound dramatic, but saying goodbye to the end of an era brings with it a small sense of melancholy (I get far too attached to people and eras).

That's enough learning for one week I reckon. I'm off to training for work on Monday. We often complain in the office that there aren't enough professional development opportunites but in comparison to some fields (and other organisations in the same field for that matter) I think we do okay. Monday's workshop is The Silent Voice of Trauma - working with children with dissociative behaviours.

Well. That was a sombre note to end on wasn't it? I'll pop something cheerful in to finish. We have but 1 male in our team of 15. He's a great guy and we have a long standing prank game between us. He recently took leave and this is what we did to his workspace.

More bad stuff

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

Okay so this blog has turned quickly into my whinge spot.
Matt finally got his surgery last Wednesday after being bedridden for over 2 days. On Friday he was discharged in literally a matter of minutes, left to pack his own things (on a leg he was not, under any circumstances, to use) and told to hopfoot it (no pun intended) down to the transit lounge to wait 5 hours until I had a chance to collect him. Luckily he did not have to wait that long as we made other arrangements, but MAN! It made me so angry.

Then, because at that hospital the first case of polio in Australia in over 20 years has been admitted, and Matt apparently used the same block of toilets as patient, he was contacted by the Dept of Health and told to scoot off to the GP asap for a polio booster. I might add that there was no concern about moi or offspring here, just hospital covering their bottoms. And again I'm left questioning the efficacy of vaccinations when at the first whisper of exposure we are all told to have boosters, boosters, more boosters. Pfft.

And so Matt is in, like a lot, of pain with his leg and that. So what does he do? Falls backwards down the stairs and thinks he's re-torn achilles tendon. Woohoo! Another ultrasound tomorrow.

This afternoon at Matt's shop, a dropkick who claimed to be carrying a knife demanded all the takings from Doug, Matt's employee who is singlehandedly running the shop at the moment. Would never in a million years recommend this course of action, but Doug gave him a mouthful, locked the door and dialed 000. The would-be robber began his tanty about his loss of civil liberty or some such rubbish and threatened to stab Doug, so Doug opened the door and the petrified young man scurried up the street.

Someone, somewhere is seeing how much Matt can stand before his head actually blows right off his shoulders. So polio is the worst you've got? Bring it on I say!

Signed Kate, who doesn't have polio and is in desperate need of a holiday somewhere warm and tropical.

The men in my life

Matt has been in hospital since Sunday and continues to wait for surgery. "It'll be done tonight" or, "you'll go first thing in the morning" are the promises coming from staff which are starting to sound repetitive (and just a smidge annoying). I submitted a complaint to the Patient Relations Department this morning around how he can be continuously put at the end of the theatre lists. Surely at some stage he would be a priority, if only by virtue of the fact that he's been there the longest? Private health cover is beginning to show its appeal. Wouldn't be so bad for Matt if they were letting him eat, drink or move about, but they have him imprisoned behind his pink curtains with nothing for nourishment but IV saline. Every twenty-four hours or so, when they're sure he's not going to be whisked away to theatre, he is provided with a meal (which he thinks is a strategy so that you don't realise how bad the food really is because you're just inhaling it to stop your stomach from digesting itself). And every hour he's there we're losing income. There are six orthopaedic surgeons in the unit, surely they can't all be test driving Porsches on the same day? Isn't one of them actually working? To add insult to injury, the whole procedure takes around forty-five minutes. C'mon...call one of them in from dinner, I dare you.

Through this experience I am getting a true taste of what it would be like to be a single parent. Hard. Slog.

Now to my other man. With Matt absent Quinn has insisted on confirming everything that is "daddy's". Repeatedly. Our days have included more than one inventory of Matt's side of the room with reassurance from me that yes, that is daddy's, and that is too, and yes, that as well, yes, all daddy's. Must be so confusing for him.

Quinn has recently developed an obsession with buses and trucks. Buses and trucks. Buses and trucks. Did I mention buses and trucks? We have a Fisher Price bus with flashing lights and a driver who, when pushed down on, activates the sound and music. Trouble is the music is only ever once (and about ten seconds) to about five statements from the driver. Statements such as "watch for the stop sign" "my bus has flashing lights". Which wouldn't be an issue if Quinn didn't have to have the music playing in order to 'drive' his bus. And what's worse, his whole world collapses every time the music stops and the man reverts to talking. Big tears roll down his face and he brings the bus to me saying "duck mumum" (duck is Quinn-speak for stuck). Sounds adorable, and it would be slightly more endearing for me if it didn't happen every thirty seconds. That bus is going to get 'lost' tomorrow.

Giant skating fish and sore feet

Yesterday Mieke and I went to see Disney on Ice, Finding Nemo. It was a terrific day out, only dampened slightly by the exorbitant price of everything. A program was $22, but the plus side of that is that upon purchasing the $22 program you would also receive a thin plastic Nemo hat, worth 20 cents (and I think I'm being generous there). She settled for an ice cone in a Nemo cup, an absolute steal at $15. We got a free straw with that.

The show itself was great. About five minutes into it, Mieke asked when it was going to finish, however she became more and more enthralled with each scene. I had wondered how the movie would be brought to life and whether or not it would work (fish do look strange with legs and because Bruce is so big he had four of them) but it was done well by using some of the actual dialogue and scenes from the movie on a large screen behind the show. We had good seats, close enough to fully experience everything but not so close that characters were overwhelming for her.

I was lovely to have a day out with Mieke. She's so grown up compared to the days of me shouting at her to stay with me as she runs off into the crowd, forcing her to hold my hand, etc etc. It was a joy to be with her and we had a really special time. As we were heading home she announced that I'd better hurry because she missed Quinn and wanted to tell him about her day.


This is a portrait of Matt's sore foot, rather good I think. It dawned on me this morning that he will be out of action for at least a month. Greeeeeeat...

How can an adult still hurt itself?

Was the question Mieke asked me this morning after learning that Matt tore his achilles tendon last night (he has been playing basketball again for about a month - yeah for sure, I said, playing is a great idea, the exercise will do you good). According to Mieke, being grown up should mean we are free from injury and she can't comprehend how on earth he did that, when she falls all the time and only ever has a scrape requiring a Shrek bandaid and a kiss. Quinn fell backwards off our couch he didn't even get hurt. Dad's heel is going to need a lot of kissing. And some surgery.

Beautiful Ella

I've never seen Justin so happy. I went with him tonight to meet Ella, he is completely in love. She is divine. A tiny 5lbs 4oz.

Kidlets

Quinn's new tactic for opening Mieke's bedroom door. He loves closing doors, trouble is he used to get stuck. Not any more! (note the chair to enable him to get onto bed and move across to bedside table. He's resourceful). Mieke can actually reach her door handle, she just grabbed the chance for a photo op.
This one of Quinn by himself is one from a series of photos taken of Quinn last weekend. To me it doesn't really look much like him, but I love the picture.

Hello world!

Well add me to the many who have climbed on board the cyber-journaling craze. I'm so resistant to new things that it's taken me 12 months of reading other peoples' blogs to accept that this might actually be a good way of communicating with everyone.

My first piece of very exciting news which I'm sure everyone knows by now is that I'm an aunt! Justin and Adelle had a baby girl on Sunday evening - 5 weeks early but apparently doing all the things she's supposed to. I feel incredibly proud, like I had something to do with the actual event. I’m continually awestruck by the miracle that is life. What amazing beings we are.

Mieke is just delighted. This morning she drew a picture of her aunt and the new baby, and surrounding them were 6 pictures of herself.

So that's the first post from this virgin blogger. Now I'll post some recent photos of everyone so you can have a peek whenever you feel like it. Ahhh, ain't technology grand? I remember not too long ago, sending photos to the UK in between pieces of cardboard with the instructions DO NOT BEND in red marker plastered over the front. How times have changed.