Very Bad Things Part 2

I crashed Daddys car. Actually I ROLLED it.

One minute I was on a windy road thinking "jeez, you have to be careful on these roads when it drizzles like this", then I hit a teeeeny pothole....


I was doing 45 kms and I know this because I looked at the dashboard as I prepared to enter a sharpish bend.


All of a sudden the entire front of the car lifted. I became airborne. I took my hands off the steering wheel (no point steering when you are flying), screamed NOOOOOOO and then the world turned upside down.


This car was a great big, heavy FORD...and it flew, then it flipped and slid down the hill on it's roof. It was about 15 metres but it felt like a lifetime. I also remember being more worried about the jar of olives and dads camera that fell out of the console and narrowly missed my head.


Imagine surviving initially but being killed by a random jar of olives.


It eventually stopped on the gravel (the NOISE!), and there I was hanging upside down by the seatbelt with the engine still running. Hmmm, what to do?


Turn off the ignition. Look around. Notice a car slowing down in coming the other way. Notice it begin to speed up again. BEEEEEEEEP the horn madly whilst still hanging upside down.


Unclick my seatbelt, land on my neck and a shitload of glass. Notice 500 people crowded around the car trying to prise open the mashed up doors. Crawl to the back of the car and wind the window down.....erm UP and am dragged to freedom in one piece by a man wearing a flannette shirt.

Apparently this man is my HERO because I am unable to let go of his shirt. To the ambulance (declared FINE, and ignored my pleas for valium), back to the car and whilst calling a friend to pick me up (NOT my dad)....I cannot let go of his shirt until my friend appears to take me home.

Yeah, dad was NOT happy but changed his mind pretty quickly when he saw the car in the wreckers yard. I don't think he keeps olives in the console anymore.

School and the Sensory Child

And doesn't that title sound like something published in some high falutin journal? Well it's not. I'm sitting on the lappy by Aquamans pool drinking a little sumpin sumpin and generally relaxing.

Or am I celebrating?

Today was a good day at school for the Cyclone. On those days I drive down the bushy, winding school driveway with a big grin feeling all is well with the world.
On the other days I drive out holding back the tears and wondering how my boy will ever learn to cope with life on a day to day basis, with the things other kids just take in their stride....or don't even notice.

Cyclone loves his school. He loves the animals, he loves the space, he loves the freedom and most of all he loves his Buddy whom I shall call Indie. Indie has all the patience in the world and he is only 9 years old. Some days he will only listen to Indie and Indie gets called out of class to get Cyclone off the play equipment, out of the library or talks him down out of the tree he has decided to reside in.

Being "sensory" means Cyclones Sensory Integration Function is well...dysfunctional. There are short-circuits and longer pathways in his little brain. He is capable of absorbing ridiculously large amounts of information but ironically it also blows his mind. Am I making any sense?

I'll try again. Too much noise/information...overload and meltdown tantrums. Conversely not enough stimulation and he seeks it - usually by talking VERY LOUDLY, making ridiculous noises or throwing himself around so he can feel the sensations properly.

You wouldn't really notice it until something happens that he is not expecting, or he must do or experience something he hasn't done before. It's taken me years to realise Cyclone gets anxious. About the outcome, or that he cannot do the new thing perfectly or better than everyone else.
For years I wasn't sure if he was as highly strung as I am - or just a very naughty boy.



This is Cyclone on his first day of school. Standing next to the pizza oven the children have built themselves.

I enrolled Cyclone at the local primary school, literally 300 metres from my front door. It's a big reason I bought the house. However during a presentation from this very school in which they waxed lyrical on all the academic achievements of the preps (they can all write at GRADE 2 LEVEL WOOO!), I started to crap my pants.
The didn't mention anything about individuality, personal growth, creativity or responsibility. Just the fact that the bloody preps write at a higher level that the rest of the state.

My son doesn't sit still for long, isn't particularly interested in writing or drawing and - as far as I'm concerned - streets ahead in other subjects that I wondered if he had a place there. How would he fit in if he didn't toe the 'party line'? Would he be a 'problem child' because of his energy? Would anyone be bothered (or have time) to find out the (usually simple) things that make him tick?

Crapsville. Mummy freak out time.

Beautiful Bloggers

Wooo EEEEE! Looky here, Sarah from JUST ME has nominated meeeee. Now I've finally gotten around to doing something about it.
Thank you very much Sarah, I'm totally chuffed!

The Rules are:

* Thank the person who nominated you for this award.
* Copy the award and place it in your blog.
* Link the person who nominated you for this award.
* Tell us 7 interesting things about you.
* Nominate 7 bloggers.
* Post the links to the 7 bloggers you nominate.

So first all about MEEEEEEEE

1) I'm not actually that interesting. I rant about things and some people think I am funny. It's all a big smokescreen.
2) I like to vacuum the house wearing a tiara. It makes me feel better.
3) I didn't finish my quest to become a Naturopath...but I got lots out of my studies, including qualification as a Bach Flower Therapist. I love it.
4) I can't afford to get my Fluffy Mutt groomed so I attack her very long coat with sewing scissors every few months then get so embarrassed about the state of her that I can't take her for a walk.
5) I have 2 brothers and 3 sisters and a huge extended family. I really do have 2 exhusbands but I might as well be considered a bigamist since they are both STILL in my life in equal amounts (except the rude bits).
6) My last child was serenely born into the water - everyone should try a waterbirth.
7) I am crap at technology. I had to be walked through setting up this blog, I still can't remember how to do hyperlinks properly and I don't know where to get the cool-ass photos everyone else seems to have

lori at tinylittlereveries I just like it, I just DO

Lori with a big L at Random Ramblings of a SAHM

BM-I don't care a new one I really like

A Winter in France for a envy inducing look at a snowy Europe through the eyes of my favourite ninja

Diminishing Lucy a good chunky read, real emotions of an incredibly shrinking woman

Punky and Me this Op Shopping nutter constantly amazes me with her commitment to Op Shopping and collecting STUFF

Every other blog I read has been nominated, as have some of these already, and I know it's only 6.... but dammit, it's taken me HOURS to get this far with the farkin linking crap (not really) and I really need a beer.

Very Bad Things - Part one (B)

In response to a few of you who remember seeing that sign - and who could forget it? - YES it was awhile ago. Hhhmmm I think it must have been about 10 years (?). It was good old Dean Allen Craig that reported on it. They interviewed me when I stopped to take a pic of the damage and I DID admit it was me but that I wasn't prepared to cop the further damage that had been done - the "church" had to lay back (face down tee hee?) and take it since they seemed to WANT that type of response.

Still, it must have been a slow news day.....thank heavens cos I was hungover as HELL (like the puns?) and refused to take off my sunnies during the interview.

The "church" is located close to my dad's house and it was there (in pristine condition) for at least a week before I drove past enough times FUMING in disbelief to make me really wanna DO something. I moved to the area about 3 years ago and I STILL watch that sign like a hawk lol.



Anyway, here is the machine I was driving at the time complete with Tasty Chef.

Tasty Chef cooked for me and taught me what wine goes with what meal, how to use a knife properly....and sometimes put on a killer scottish accent that used to drive me....


But I digress

Very Bad Things - Part one

Yep, I did it. It was ME.

I defaced a church sign.

But how can you leave something like that bright and shining in the world that you live??

It originally said "God hates Homosexuality".

After many conversations, with many different friends of all different religions everyone agreed that God shouldn't (or didn't) HATE anything.

So I bought a big FAT black texta especially for the job. Recruited a friend and her sister to come along for moral support...and in the dark of the night scrawled my response (well OUR response) and drove away into the night (in my pristine HZ Holden Station Wagon with a 308 on straight gas in case you were wondering).

News crews arrived, locals were interviewed and everyone felt the same way as I. Shocked.

It all went pear-shaped because the deal I made (in my head) was that I would come and clean it off again if the owners of the sign would rescind their words. No harm done.
Well others really wanted to drive the opinion home and the sign was subsequently spray painted and had holes put right through the lot.

Ah well.

Reflecting on my bloodline....

Brought to you by the www.blogthis.com.au challenge...

This is my Aunty Nancy shown in in 1913 at the age of 2 years and 8 months.

Pianist, Harpsichordist, Teacher and lecturer - passionately dedicated to music

Awarded an Order of the British Empire for music.
Awarded a medal from the German government for her dedication to music
Founder of the Bartok Society

When she died her notes and music were left to the NSW Conservatorium. One of her favourite students, Sarah, went on to tutor Princes Harry and William.

She used to phone me on a regular basis to encourage me to continue with my lessons. "You must practice, you MUST"....and I did for awhile. It came easily to me, just a little too easy and I never appreciated the gift bestowed through my genes. There was tennis, and boys and parties.

Aunty Nancy had two concert grand pianos sitting side by side in the parlour. Her house was a treasure trove of wonderful and beautiful things. Pianos, paintings, harpsichords, letters, dresses...and a slightly scary Siamese cat named Confucius.

For all those years she was a voice on the phone, a sender of wonderful books and a presence always felt as I played. I wish I had kept playing.



Pic from the National Library of Australia - I'm not asking permission cos she is my aunt...

HOW TEENAGERS HAPPEN

So they start like this -



8 pounds of chunky goodness. Love a chunky baby, we used to call her Sara Lee because her arms had layer upon layer of little rolls.



Then she turned into a cheeky nordic blonde that loved olives for breakfast



A big primary school girl. That's our Indian Ringneck parrot Bubbalouie who just loves her. Teen Queen inadvertently saved his life when she demanded Scorpio bring him to our house for the weekend so she could take him to show and tell at school on the Monday. Scorpios house burnt down that day and he would have been TOAST.



The secondary school years, loves her sister. Gets a bit of attitude. School sucks and all the teachers are stupid. Note the wrist band as an indication of things to come.

Then before I know it - first school dance and the transformation to full Angsty Teen Queen




and now VCE student studying to be a Midwife. I don't care about the piercings (very much), it's her choice now she is all big and stuff....

sigh



Love them