As my boys get older, there become more and more opportunities for them to make me proud. It's not that I wasn't proud of them before, but as I encourage them to 'be better' and have the courage to 'make it happen,' somehow slowly, those wise words are sinking in.
On Friday, my oldest son played in the grand final of his hockey season. He has been the goalie all year, and I had plenty of comments from the parents and coach throughout the season about how much of an asset he is to the team. So much so, that on the way to the grand final, he told me that his coach had also made him captain for the finals. He said he was made captain because the coach thought he took the game seriously (yet if you knew my son, he just thinks that being goalie is like being in a real life video game where he can control his players! lol).
The team they were playing hadn't yet lost a game all season, and the last time we played them we lost 2-10 (however, my son wasn't playing that day, as that was the day we went to see USA vs Canada ice-hockey). So, as you can imagine, the other team would be expecting to win easily. And as they were at the top of the ladder, if it was a draw, they would still be Premiers. Our key striker was on the bench with a knee that had put him in crutches all week, so we weren't confident that we would win, but the team were pumped about trying. We got the first goal. Then the score was tied, but it took a while. With 10 minutes to go before the end of the game, we were up 4-3. The parents were super excited, with adrenalin rushing through us, not caring that it was bitterly cold outside. Somehow, with just minutes spare, their team got 2 quick goals and the whistle blew… Score ending in 4-5.
Our boys were so elated with their tenacity and efforts that it didn't bother them that they had lost. They were the ultimate sportsmen. My son, as captain, handed out runners-up medals to his team mates, and thanked the referees for their job. They did such a fine job. Shhh… but this week at the official presentation night, I know the coach is going to give my son a trophy for all his hard work and efforts (not sure what the award actually is, but after 5 years in playing hockey, it will be his first trophy, and I think he may be a little surprised!)
As for my younger son…. he has learning difficulties and has had to read an entire novel this term and do four assignments on the book. The assignments are 1) an author's study, 2) a character web, 3) character emotions and 4) describe in your own words a scene in the book, then draw a picture of it. With a little bit of encouragement, he finished the book on the weekend. But what surprised me most, was when he really tried, and had an incentive (i.e., if you finish this chapter I will give you some candy!), he read the book so fluently and read words that I would never expect him to know. Usually it's a drawn out process of 'I'm too tired,' negotiations to do less, or an inaudible voice of painful blur he thinks is called 'reading out loud.' It's like he's been playing me and his teachers about his abilities for a while now, but doesn't want anyone to know… hmmmm…. not sure how to handle that… maybe I should secretly record him and let his teacher and tutor know what he is capable of doing…
So, as our children achieve their little milestones in leadership, processing information, and tactics, we must take out hats off to them for taking on the journey that allows them to become masters of their own lives. If only I could stop them procrastinating, then I wouldn't need to nag! lol
Monday 8 September 2014
Thursday 28 August 2014
Love and Fear
When I was married, and even before, I reflect now and see that I was living in fear. Through my high school years, I feared that if I didn't do what was expected of me - my schooling, my violin practice, going swimming each week, making good friends, getting good grades, not eating the right foods, etc, I feared I would be grounded, physically hit, verbally abused (i.e. told that I am fat, that my best isn't good enough, etc) or I wouldn't be allowed to see my friends as they weren't 'good influences.' So I essentially hid in the comfort of my own bedroom writing, listening to music, playing music and finding any outlet I could that gave me peace in my heart.
Through my married years, that same fear was there. I was scared to argue or give an opinion just in case World War II broke out and the harmony in our world and expectations that carried over from living under my parents roof - get an education, buy a house, get married, have children, etc would be frowned upon if I didn't take that path. If my husband and I had the smallest of arguments about butter vs margarine, or tomato sauce vs tomato relish, I had become the person who lost all sense of having an opinion because if it would cause an argument, I would let his opinion or decision count.
And it really wasn't until I started my post-graduate course in Writing that I discovered that my opinion was important, valued and ALLOWED! That's a big one… allowing yourself to have an opinion and sticking to YOUR TRUTH in who you are. Hence the reason why 2009 was such a big year for me… I started my course, my sister was married in the Black Saturday bush fires and I could see so clearly that all I meant to my husband was a bank balance, we went to USA and visited Disneyland, I told my husband that he needed to get a job, not have a business, which he did and failed, therefore, he ended up failing our marriage…. and I became stronger because I realised that I could do all the things we were doing without him.
And for a year after I left him, I learnt to live in 'love.' Loving myself for who I was, loving myself enough to lose 22 kilos in weight, loving my surrounds, loving my freedom, loving my children, loving my job, loving my ambitions and goals, and loving the time I had with my friends and family. And people were loving me back. I had this zest for life that people were addicted to. They wanted to know more about me and they wanted to spend time with me, and I would be in control of my own time giving myself where and when I wanted to.
But then, people started taking advantage… advantage of the love I was giving, advantage of the time I was giving, advantage of my zest for life. And my bitter husband threatened my existence - he wanted to take half of my business, he organised to have my home over-valued (I say 'my' home as I paid for it, it was in my name, but as we were married, he was entitled to something) so that I would give him a huge payout, he took money out of our joint account that was there to pay the car repayment so somehow I had to find more money to pay it, he looked at my computer to see if he could find any evidence of me cheating on him and I believe he was responsible for two nails found in two of my tyres. And he did it, because I had killed the dream that he had - the dream of being a kept man with a whole lot of luxuries.
It's now 5 years since I split with him… 2.5 years since our finances have been settled, 2 years since I lost my American lover, and I feel that I'm starting to live with 'love' in my life again, not fear. I was profoundly affected by the great Jim Carrey saying 'Too many people live in fear just to be practical.' And it resonated with me so much, as my parents have always chosen a 'practical life' over a loving life, and after trying the regimented life so many of us dream about in our childhood, I have decided, it's not for me… I am full of love, adventure, spirit and passion. So many people told me last year how 'courageous' it was to drive around Europe for 6.5 weeks, but for me it was an adventure and whatever will be will be. I didn't approach that holiday in fear… but when we went to the USA and Disneyland, I did...
I feel comfortable in my life now to be the person I want to be… a loving, nurturing mother, a prolific writer, a caring and supportive friend, an adventurer, a dog lover and a survivor… A survivor of divorce, neglect, abuse and fear. I am not a victim, I am 'me.' I no longer care what people think of me, or what I write. They are my thoughts, my experiences, my life. It's been a long time since I shed a tear in sadness of my life… I will always shed a tear in compassion for others or shed a tear in outrageous laughter.
In the end, my friends, all I can say to you, is to learn to live in love, not fear and always be the better you.
Through my married years, that same fear was there. I was scared to argue or give an opinion just in case World War II broke out and the harmony in our world and expectations that carried over from living under my parents roof - get an education, buy a house, get married, have children, etc would be frowned upon if I didn't take that path. If my husband and I had the smallest of arguments about butter vs margarine, or tomato sauce vs tomato relish, I had become the person who lost all sense of having an opinion because if it would cause an argument, I would let his opinion or decision count.
And it really wasn't until I started my post-graduate course in Writing that I discovered that my opinion was important, valued and ALLOWED! That's a big one… allowing yourself to have an opinion and sticking to YOUR TRUTH in who you are. Hence the reason why 2009 was such a big year for me… I started my course, my sister was married in the Black Saturday bush fires and I could see so clearly that all I meant to my husband was a bank balance, we went to USA and visited Disneyland, I told my husband that he needed to get a job, not have a business, which he did and failed, therefore, he ended up failing our marriage…. and I became stronger because I realised that I could do all the things we were doing without him.
And for a year after I left him, I learnt to live in 'love.' Loving myself for who I was, loving myself enough to lose 22 kilos in weight, loving my surrounds, loving my freedom, loving my children, loving my job, loving my ambitions and goals, and loving the time I had with my friends and family. And people were loving me back. I had this zest for life that people were addicted to. They wanted to know more about me and they wanted to spend time with me, and I would be in control of my own time giving myself where and when I wanted to.
But then, people started taking advantage… advantage of the love I was giving, advantage of the time I was giving, advantage of my zest for life. And my bitter husband threatened my existence - he wanted to take half of my business, he organised to have my home over-valued (I say 'my' home as I paid for it, it was in my name, but as we were married, he was entitled to something) so that I would give him a huge payout, he took money out of our joint account that was there to pay the car repayment so somehow I had to find more money to pay it, he looked at my computer to see if he could find any evidence of me cheating on him and I believe he was responsible for two nails found in two of my tyres. And he did it, because I had killed the dream that he had - the dream of being a kept man with a whole lot of luxuries.
It's now 5 years since I split with him… 2.5 years since our finances have been settled, 2 years since I lost my American lover, and I feel that I'm starting to live with 'love' in my life again, not fear. I was profoundly affected by the great Jim Carrey saying 'Too many people live in fear just to be practical.' And it resonated with me so much, as my parents have always chosen a 'practical life' over a loving life, and after trying the regimented life so many of us dream about in our childhood, I have decided, it's not for me… I am full of love, adventure, spirit and passion. So many people told me last year how 'courageous' it was to drive around Europe for 6.5 weeks, but for me it was an adventure and whatever will be will be. I didn't approach that holiday in fear… but when we went to the USA and Disneyland, I did...
I feel comfortable in my life now to be the person I want to be… a loving, nurturing mother, a prolific writer, a caring and supportive friend, an adventurer, a dog lover and a survivor… A survivor of divorce, neglect, abuse and fear. I am not a victim, I am 'me.' I no longer care what people think of me, or what I write. They are my thoughts, my experiences, my life. It's been a long time since I shed a tear in sadness of my life… I will always shed a tear in compassion for others or shed a tear in outrageous laughter.
In the end, my friends, all I can say to you, is to learn to live in love, not fear and always be the better you.
Friday 22 August 2014
The hospital heroes
Over the last week, my son spent 5 nights/6 days in hospital for a recurring problem. I spent every night next to him in a crappy single person sofa bed with missing springs (somehow it held my weight), so with an average bed, other kids being wheeled in and wheeled out throughout the night of our 4-bed room, and the delights of newborns crying around us, we were both pretty exhausted after our stay. So while the nurses always get a wrap for how amazing they are, and they are, there are many other heroes situated in the children's ward of a hospital each and every day.
Firstly, there are the children. In our 5 night stay, we had children ranging from 6 days old to 16 years old. The 16 year old had coeliac's disease plus juvenile diabetes and had a sugar overdose. He would have Turret's like fits in the middle of the night screaming out 'f*&*' to our amusement, but not necessarily ideal for the young ears around us. There was a 4 year old girl who found out she had cancer in our stay. I saw her mum crying crouched down in the hallway with nurses, counsellors and family members surrounding her trying to console her. We had a 5 year old cerebral palsy boy who was very sweet, patient and able to just put up with everything he went through - from being feed through a hole in his stomach, to wearing nappies and being prodded and poked for the numerous amounts of tests he needed. We had several children with asthma come and go, a 9 week old who wasn't putting on weight yet was struck down with severe bronchillitis so she sounded like she was always struggling to breathe, and a newborn with jaundice that wasn't subsiding. It really made you feel that the struggle my son goes through every day, and has done for the majority of his years, is nothing compared to these other children, especially those who have to live with their illness for the rest of their days.
We are lucky that what my son has is fixable, but it will take a while, through a process of elimination to see exactly what needs to be done. But so many others have incurable diseases, illnesses or dietary concerns that they have to adjust their lives accordingly.
But the real heroes are the parents who are there for the children day in day out and don't have a selfless bone in their body. The siblings of these children who allow their parents to be there day in day out for their sick brother or sister, and miss out on being a normal kid too. They are the real heroes, as they watch their friends do all the things they want to do, but their parents can't give them the time. There was one parent there who lived in Tasmania and travelled sometimes 26 times a year to Melbourne to get the help needed for her son. She leaves 3 other children in the care of her parents while she is over in Melbourne, but on top of it all, her husband came down with terminal lung cancer and recently had a knee replacement, so she's literally doing it all on her own… and she's only 34 years old. Truly, the courage she has is just extraordinary to keep going, smile and laugh whilst going through such tragedy, at what every day brings her.
This was my first time every to experience and observe the goings-on at a hospital, especially a children's ward. Doctors come and go, and I seriously thought we would see much more of the doctors in the ward, but we didn't. Most kids were lucky to see a doctor once a day, while the nurses attended to their every need. We were lucky to have charitable organisations and volunteers at the Ronald McDonald Family Room which provided a refuge for families to talk in private, a dining area and kitchen to cook a proper meal, showers and laundry facilities for those with no place to do the everyday things they needed. We also had a Starlight Room run by the Starlight Foundation for the sick children to play video games and interact with other sick children, just to feel normal. We had play therapy consultants who brought around show bags of goodies and other toys for the children who were bed-ridden. All these things made our hospital stay bearable, while children with severely disfigured faces and bodies, or children with tubes coming out of every cavity in their body, just broke your heart and made you realise how extremely lucky we are to have almost perfect kids.
Firstly, there are the children. In our 5 night stay, we had children ranging from 6 days old to 16 years old. The 16 year old had coeliac's disease plus juvenile diabetes and had a sugar overdose. He would have Turret's like fits in the middle of the night screaming out 'f*&*' to our amusement, but not necessarily ideal for the young ears around us. There was a 4 year old girl who found out she had cancer in our stay. I saw her mum crying crouched down in the hallway with nurses, counsellors and family members surrounding her trying to console her. We had a 5 year old cerebral palsy boy who was very sweet, patient and able to just put up with everything he went through - from being feed through a hole in his stomach, to wearing nappies and being prodded and poked for the numerous amounts of tests he needed. We had several children with asthma come and go, a 9 week old who wasn't putting on weight yet was struck down with severe bronchillitis so she sounded like she was always struggling to breathe, and a newborn with jaundice that wasn't subsiding. It really made you feel that the struggle my son goes through every day, and has done for the majority of his years, is nothing compared to these other children, especially those who have to live with their illness for the rest of their days.
We are lucky that what my son has is fixable, but it will take a while, through a process of elimination to see exactly what needs to be done. But so many others have incurable diseases, illnesses or dietary concerns that they have to adjust their lives accordingly.
But the real heroes are the parents who are there for the children day in day out and don't have a selfless bone in their body. The siblings of these children who allow their parents to be there day in day out for their sick brother or sister, and miss out on being a normal kid too. They are the real heroes, as they watch their friends do all the things they want to do, but their parents can't give them the time. There was one parent there who lived in Tasmania and travelled sometimes 26 times a year to Melbourne to get the help needed for her son. She leaves 3 other children in the care of her parents while she is over in Melbourne, but on top of it all, her husband came down with terminal lung cancer and recently had a knee replacement, so she's literally doing it all on her own… and she's only 34 years old. Truly, the courage she has is just extraordinary to keep going, smile and laugh whilst going through such tragedy, at what every day brings her.
This was my first time every to experience and observe the goings-on at a hospital, especially a children's ward. Doctors come and go, and I seriously thought we would see much more of the doctors in the ward, but we didn't. Most kids were lucky to see a doctor once a day, while the nurses attended to their every need. We were lucky to have charitable organisations and volunteers at the Ronald McDonald Family Room which provided a refuge for families to talk in private, a dining area and kitchen to cook a proper meal, showers and laundry facilities for those with no place to do the everyday things they needed. We also had a Starlight Room run by the Starlight Foundation for the sick children to play video games and interact with other sick children, just to feel normal. We had play therapy consultants who brought around show bags of goodies and other toys for the children who were bed-ridden. All these things made our hospital stay bearable, while children with severely disfigured faces and bodies, or children with tubes coming out of every cavity in their body, just broke your heart and made you realise how extremely lucky we are to have almost perfect kids.
Wednesday 13 August 2014
The language of him and her
It's frustrating to no end in this game of love and war. And that's what it feels like… a war to gain love for those you want it from. It's not exactly a 'fist to cuffs' war or a verbal diatribe, but it's a war of miscommunication, courage (or lack of) and rejection. But there is a simple explanation why it is all so…
Men and women think differently. Men compartmentalise everything into boxes - a box for work, a box for wife/lover (or one each for both!), a box for kids, a box for car, a box for finances, a box for home, a box for sport, a box for entertainment, and a box for nothing. You know when you are trying to communicate with a man and he's in dreamy day dream land… yet that's right - he's in his 'box of nothing!' Whereas, women are like the internet… wires connecting everything to anything. Women think that work is related to money, which is related to how much money you can spend on buying/renting a house/car, to what size house/car you need to house your family/kids/pets, to how much entertaining do we need space for in our home or do we want to live close to amenities/restaurants/cafes/beach to entertain ourselves, and the list is continuously in motion. You can kind of understand why men freak out when a woman says 'I thought we were saving the money to buy a bigger house,' when he goes and buys himself a new car without making a decision with her. For him, it's 'his' car, so why should she have a say?
This box theory makes sense to me in my relationships. Recently, I asked a friend who started flirting with me about his 'partner', and his response was 'she knows I will never leave her.' Hmmm… box for me, box for her. My lover constantly talked about his boxes and I asked him once if I was a shiny red box in front of the Christmas tree, or something nearer the trunk, tucked away so no one could see (hmm… I bet you can guess which one!). But when my box started to move to the front of the Christmas tree because our relationship became more emotionally involved, he started to freak out, because he couldn't tell which box was mine and which one was his wife's box as they were starting to become similar (i.e. he was telling me stuff before he told his wife, and then when his wife asked him why he hadn't told her, he thought that he already had!) He wasn't used to his boxes starting to look the same and didn't like that he was confusing them. My ex-husband was a real trooper for boxes, because he couldn't understand that his ability (or I should say 'non ability') to contribute to the welfare of his family would determine if he stayed with us or not. He was dumbfounded when I told him to leave because he thought every box was it's own individual issue and that he could tackle one and forget about the others, yet I saw them as being all interconnected.
Some men blend their boxes… for instant having an affair with someone at work, or an affair with one of their children's friend's mothers, or they need a luxury car to show off at work, but it is fairly rare for a man to be able to combine three or more boxes into a bigger box.
So if we can understand this about men, then we shouldn't have a problem with communicating with them. It's all about keeping it simple. Yet we women are not simple creatures. We analyse, worry and store things in our memory to bring them up ten years down the track after all the built up anger destroys our soul… We have more courage to create a change in thinking than men do. We will ask the hard questions, hoping to move things along rather than staying still. We want to see courage in our men, courage to make a stand and show us how much they desire us, love us and want us in their lives. Yet most are too scared. And the older we get, the more scared men get… as there are too many boxes to worry about - his kids, her kids, living together, not living together, not being burnt again, moving across town or to the other side of the world, wanting more kids, combined money, happy being a bachelor, etc etc… making any decision to make a move to find happiness with someone all too hard.
Arrghhh… so maybe the only thing to do is just enjoy life for what it is…. wait for Mr Brave to ask you a direct question, so you know exactly what he's thinking, exacting what he's wanting, and you can make a decision, because you know that he's found his box of happy in you.
Men and women think differently. Men compartmentalise everything into boxes - a box for work, a box for wife/lover (or one each for both!), a box for kids, a box for car, a box for finances, a box for home, a box for sport, a box for entertainment, and a box for nothing. You know when you are trying to communicate with a man and he's in dreamy day dream land… yet that's right - he's in his 'box of nothing!' Whereas, women are like the internet… wires connecting everything to anything. Women think that work is related to money, which is related to how much money you can spend on buying/renting a house/car, to what size house/car you need to house your family/kids/pets, to how much entertaining do we need space for in our home or do we want to live close to amenities/restaurants/cafes/beach to entertain ourselves, and the list is continuously in motion. You can kind of understand why men freak out when a woman says 'I thought we were saving the money to buy a bigger house,' when he goes and buys himself a new car without making a decision with her. For him, it's 'his' car, so why should she have a say?
This box theory makes sense to me in my relationships. Recently, I asked a friend who started flirting with me about his 'partner', and his response was 'she knows I will never leave her.' Hmmm… box for me, box for her. My lover constantly talked about his boxes and I asked him once if I was a shiny red box in front of the Christmas tree, or something nearer the trunk, tucked away so no one could see (hmm… I bet you can guess which one!). But when my box started to move to the front of the Christmas tree because our relationship became more emotionally involved, he started to freak out, because he couldn't tell which box was mine and which one was his wife's box as they were starting to become similar (i.e. he was telling me stuff before he told his wife, and then when his wife asked him why he hadn't told her, he thought that he already had!) He wasn't used to his boxes starting to look the same and didn't like that he was confusing them. My ex-husband was a real trooper for boxes, because he couldn't understand that his ability (or I should say 'non ability') to contribute to the welfare of his family would determine if he stayed with us or not. He was dumbfounded when I told him to leave because he thought every box was it's own individual issue and that he could tackle one and forget about the others, yet I saw them as being all interconnected.
Some men blend their boxes… for instant having an affair with someone at work, or an affair with one of their children's friend's mothers, or they need a luxury car to show off at work, but it is fairly rare for a man to be able to combine three or more boxes into a bigger box.
So if we can understand this about men, then we shouldn't have a problem with communicating with them. It's all about keeping it simple. Yet we women are not simple creatures. We analyse, worry and store things in our memory to bring them up ten years down the track after all the built up anger destroys our soul… We have more courage to create a change in thinking than men do. We will ask the hard questions, hoping to move things along rather than staying still. We want to see courage in our men, courage to make a stand and show us how much they desire us, love us and want us in their lives. Yet most are too scared. And the older we get, the more scared men get… as there are too many boxes to worry about - his kids, her kids, living together, not living together, not being burnt again, moving across town or to the other side of the world, wanting more kids, combined money, happy being a bachelor, etc etc… making any decision to make a move to find happiness with someone all too hard.
Arrghhh… so maybe the only thing to do is just enjoy life for what it is…. wait for Mr Brave to ask you a direct question, so you know exactly what he's thinking, exacting what he's wanting, and you can make a decision, because you know that he's found his box of happy in you.
Monday 4 August 2014
Judging Children Before they have a Chance
I watched a comedian do a speech on TED today and it made me realise how brainwashed we are in believing that the best most upstanding, professional people in this world come from stable, functional nuclear families. It couldn't be more farther than the truth.
There are thousands, if not millions of people who have made successes out of themselves because of their harsh upbringings. They are either orphans, foster children, adopted children, children from single parent families and even having a stint as a homeless child… yet society expects people to judge these children as 'no hoper,' 'dole-bludging,' 'criminals in the making' children or adolescents because they haven't been given the fine foundation of a loving, happily married family environment.
One thing I have noticed in this world, is that there are possibly as many unhappy marriages as there are divorces in this world… leaving about 5-10% of all marriages actually being happy. Some are happy with the life that they lead by being married to a particular person - either classifying them by occupation or elitism in society, some feel that they couldn't be happier if they left so they stick with what they know. Some 'put up' with their spouse, or co-exist if you like because it's 'easier' than 1) splitting the finances in half, 2) finding a new partner to share your life with or 3) keeping up appearances. But deep down, there is no vitality between them that keeps them 'in love.' Therefore, their children see this idea of love and marriage, and many see it for what it is, and don't want anything to do with it.
When it comes to famous or successful people in this world who were either orphaned, fostered, adopted or from a single parent family, the first people I think of are Oprah Winfrey, Tom Cruise, Steve Jobs, Marilyn Monroe, John Lennon, Malcolm X and Nelson Mandela. All were influential people of their time, and still are. Homeless celebrities include Kelly Clarkson, Jennifer Lopez, Jim Carrey, Drew Carrey, Kurt Cobain, Dr Phil, Martin Sheen, Kelsey Grammar, just a few to do what it takes to make a career in Hollywood, comedy or music. Other actors and singers include Eddie Murphy, Pierce Brosnan, James Dean, Willie Nelson, Madonna, Ingrid Bergman, Jodie Foster, Paul McCartney, Jack Nicholson, Demi Moore, Eartha Kitt, Cher and Ice T. Other celebrities who have been influential people in our lives include Babe Ruth, Dr Ruth, Dr Wayne Dyer, Jesse Jackson, Eleanor Roosevelt, Dave Thomas (founder of Wendys), Bill Clinton, Lance Armstrong and the lists seriously go on and on.
So don't you find it interesting, that it most beloved stories of heroes and heroines growing up to fight adversity, almost all are from an orphaned, fostered, adopted or single parent family? Superman, Spiderman, Batman, Jane Eyre, Harry Potter, James Bond, Huckleberry Finn, Tom Sawyer, Cinderella, David Copperfield, Green Hornet, Heathcliff (Wuthering Heights), Heidi, Snow White, Tarzan, Oliver Twist, Princess Leia, Luke Skywalker, Little Orphan Annie, Lone Ranger, Paddington Bear, Pollyanna and Wolverine and even religious icons such as Mohammed, Moses and Saint Nicholas, were orphaned, homeless or from single parent families? Are authors just glorifying their life path to give the extremes and harshness of no love, no money, no body in their lives to help them overcome their quest for invincibility, magic and power? Or do they write to show that we all have 'happy ever after' stories of someone caring enough to love them?
Can we conclude that children have more resilience and yearn to be better if they have had a 'disadvantaged' start in life, therefore have a bigger hunger to make something of themselves in both fiction and real life? I think so… Children who have been given a hard start know what it's like to miss out, and strive to make their lives better no matter what. These are the people we want to run our countries, these are the people who we want to aspire to be. I will never look down on a homeless person, an adopted person, an orphaned person or one from a single parent family because they will be the stars in this world, and make this place a better place. There's no room for judgement in this world… only happiness and peace, especially for our children.
There are thousands, if not millions of people who have made successes out of themselves because of their harsh upbringings. They are either orphans, foster children, adopted children, children from single parent families and even having a stint as a homeless child… yet society expects people to judge these children as 'no hoper,' 'dole-bludging,' 'criminals in the making' children or adolescents because they haven't been given the fine foundation of a loving, happily married family environment.
One thing I have noticed in this world, is that there are possibly as many unhappy marriages as there are divorces in this world… leaving about 5-10% of all marriages actually being happy. Some are happy with the life that they lead by being married to a particular person - either classifying them by occupation or elitism in society, some feel that they couldn't be happier if they left so they stick with what they know. Some 'put up' with their spouse, or co-exist if you like because it's 'easier' than 1) splitting the finances in half, 2) finding a new partner to share your life with or 3) keeping up appearances. But deep down, there is no vitality between them that keeps them 'in love.' Therefore, their children see this idea of love and marriage, and many see it for what it is, and don't want anything to do with it.
When it comes to famous or successful people in this world who were either orphaned, fostered, adopted or from a single parent family, the first people I think of are Oprah Winfrey, Tom Cruise, Steve Jobs, Marilyn Monroe, John Lennon, Malcolm X and Nelson Mandela. All were influential people of their time, and still are. Homeless celebrities include Kelly Clarkson, Jennifer Lopez, Jim Carrey, Drew Carrey, Kurt Cobain, Dr Phil, Martin Sheen, Kelsey Grammar, just a few to do what it takes to make a career in Hollywood, comedy or music. Other actors and singers include Eddie Murphy, Pierce Brosnan, James Dean, Willie Nelson, Madonna, Ingrid Bergman, Jodie Foster, Paul McCartney, Jack Nicholson, Demi Moore, Eartha Kitt, Cher and Ice T. Other celebrities who have been influential people in our lives include Babe Ruth, Dr Ruth, Dr Wayne Dyer, Jesse Jackson, Eleanor Roosevelt, Dave Thomas (founder of Wendys), Bill Clinton, Lance Armstrong and the lists seriously go on and on.
So don't you find it interesting, that it most beloved stories of heroes and heroines growing up to fight adversity, almost all are from an orphaned, fostered, adopted or single parent family? Superman, Spiderman, Batman, Jane Eyre, Harry Potter, James Bond, Huckleberry Finn, Tom Sawyer, Cinderella, David Copperfield, Green Hornet, Heathcliff (Wuthering Heights), Heidi, Snow White, Tarzan, Oliver Twist, Princess Leia, Luke Skywalker, Little Orphan Annie, Lone Ranger, Paddington Bear, Pollyanna and Wolverine and even religious icons such as Mohammed, Moses and Saint Nicholas, were orphaned, homeless or from single parent families? Are authors just glorifying their life path to give the extremes and harshness of no love, no money, no body in their lives to help them overcome their quest for invincibility, magic and power? Or do they write to show that we all have 'happy ever after' stories of someone caring enough to love them?
Can we conclude that children have more resilience and yearn to be better if they have had a 'disadvantaged' start in life, therefore have a bigger hunger to make something of themselves in both fiction and real life? I think so… Children who have been given a hard start know what it's like to miss out, and strive to make their lives better no matter what. These are the people we want to run our countries, these are the people who we want to aspire to be. I will never look down on a homeless person, an adopted person, an orphaned person or one from a single parent family because they will be the stars in this world, and make this place a better place. There's no room for judgement in this world… only happiness and peace, especially for our children.
Wednesday 30 July 2014
En français!
Last night, I attended my first Interactive French class at a place called 'A French Journey.' It's a sweet little set of studios at the back of a French patisserie in Hampton. I have always wanted to learn French fluently. I studied it in high school for 4 years, I had a Swiss pen-pal in those years who wrote to me in French and I wrote to her in English (I met up with her for the first time last year in Geneva but her English was so far more superior to my French). I will admit, I let some of the learning fade away over the years, but some of it stuck with me, and last night, it was like all these words and memories were coming back to me like they were all inside me waiting to be set free.
The romantic in me was hoping that there would be some beautiful single man either teaching the class or attending the class… but no… sorry to disappoint me again! The French teacher was a 29 year old French native from Biarritz in the south of France named Sarah, who is just beautiful in every way and the class was two old high school friends in their mid 50s, one who brought her whinging husband along, and a very quiet 44 year old woman only 6 weeks away from her trip to Paris.
Our first class was about introducing ourselves… hence the reason why I know the ages of my classmates! We learnt formal and informal greetings and ways we can talk about ourselves, from what we do, where we are from, if we are married/single, how many children we have, if we have a pet, what our name is, how old we are, etc. All the masculine and feminine articles came back, but we were given a few hints on how to recognise the gender of the words, which I never got at school. Also there were some helpful hints in pronunciation that I don't recall getting from school.
At the end, we were given a little slice of French cake - it was like a chocolate hazelnut mousse, with a slice of lemon tart and sponge cake all in one. Very yummy, but very decadent. I actually requested to be part of a French and food class, but unfortunately, they didn't have the numbers to substantiate a class, so I joined the Interactive French class instead (I would have preferred to have been cooking and trying out different French foods!)
I read something the other day, that learning a language in your adult years is better than doing all those brain games on Lumosity, Brain Training, etc, and actually stops you from developing diseases like Alzheimer's etc. As I said, I would love to be fluent in French, and I hope I can keep it up to become fluent, then immerse myself in the French culture for a year or so in a provence in France. But that's the dream… one day, it will (I will be positive)... happen!
The romantic in me was hoping that there would be some beautiful single man either teaching the class or attending the class… but no… sorry to disappoint me again! The French teacher was a 29 year old French native from Biarritz in the south of France named Sarah, who is just beautiful in every way and the class was two old high school friends in their mid 50s, one who brought her whinging husband along, and a very quiet 44 year old woman only 6 weeks away from her trip to Paris.
Our first class was about introducing ourselves… hence the reason why I know the ages of my classmates! We learnt formal and informal greetings and ways we can talk about ourselves, from what we do, where we are from, if we are married/single, how many children we have, if we have a pet, what our name is, how old we are, etc. All the masculine and feminine articles came back, but we were given a few hints on how to recognise the gender of the words, which I never got at school. Also there were some helpful hints in pronunciation that I don't recall getting from school.
At the end, we were given a little slice of French cake - it was like a chocolate hazelnut mousse, with a slice of lemon tart and sponge cake all in one. Very yummy, but very decadent. I actually requested to be part of a French and food class, but unfortunately, they didn't have the numbers to substantiate a class, so I joined the Interactive French class instead (I would have preferred to have been cooking and trying out different French foods!)
I read something the other day, that learning a language in your adult years is better than doing all those brain games on Lumosity, Brain Training, etc, and actually stops you from developing diseases like Alzheimer's etc. As I said, I would love to be fluent in French, and I hope I can keep it up to become fluent, then immerse myself in the French culture for a year or so in a provence in France. But that's the dream… one day, it will (I will be positive)... happen!
Friday 25 July 2014
USA vs Canada Ice Hockey… in Melbourne?!
Last night, the boys and I went to see our first ice-hockey match. Now as a bit of a background, my oldest son has always wanted to play ice-hockey, but as it's very limited in Melbourne to play it, he took up field hockey about 5 years ago. When we planned to move to the States a few years back, he was excited that he could at last play with a regular team, however, that didn't happen (as we never made it there). He now plays goalie for his hockey club, and we have been ice-skating a few times, but that's as far as we have come. In Melbourne, it's a very expensive sport, possibly $1000 to set yourself up, $1000+ a year in game and rink fees, plus finding the time to travel to the city once or twice a week, as there is only one suburban rink, and it's not very good. So you can imagine how excited he was when we saw on the TV a few months ago that there was a USA vs Canada game playing in our home town. We just had to buy tickets (and it was part of his birthday present).
They converted Rod Laver Arena (famous for being centre court for the Australian Tennis Open) into an ice-rink and the magic began. This was the 4th game of a 5 game series, as they had already played two games in Perth, one in Brisbane and they were off to Sydney for the last game tonight.
The night started with a fireworks display and some ice-dancers, all the hockey players came out for a warm up, we sang (or attempted to) sing the national anthems for each team and the game began.
Within a minute of the game starting, an on-rink fight started, with everything from throwing the gloves and stick to losing the helmet. I gathered this would be a regular occurrence as part of the 'entertainment of the game', but besides one more smaller scuffle, it didn't seem to be so. Canada scored quickly, not one, but 2 goals. I was thinking this was supposed to be like field hockey - a low scoring game, but it didn't seem that way.
By the top of the first period the score was level 2-2.
I was sitting next to a native Canadian with his Australian mates, and literally surrounded by other Canadian supporters, so each time I waved my USA flag, I was getting a light hearted boo from the native Canadian.
With 20 minutes between each game play, there was time for the 'kiss cam' and 'dance cam' to roam around the audience. They had Olympian ice-dancers, unknown singers and 2 marriage proposals throughout the night. The Mexican wave and beach balls made appearances and there was plenty of music to keep us entertained… The main commentator for the evening was losing his voice badly throughout the night. Each time he interviewed a player, he could barely get out the words, and it gave the native Canadian and I something to talk about. (PS, he was really cute, surprisingly only 3 years older than me - I thought he was younger, but married with 2 kids… why are the nice ones always married?)
By the top of the second period, the score was level 4-4. It was going to be a close game.
My youngest actually LOVED the night. He is usually a pain to get him to go anywhere, especially stadium events, as his ears can't tolerate loud noises (due to ear infections at a young age) and he can't cope with crowds, so we've been avoiding stadiums, theatres, concerts, etc. So hopefully we can be a bit more adventurous and see a few more live events.
At the third period, USA ran away from Canada, and the crowd was getting a little quiet (as it would have been an 80% Canadian crowd, 20% USA crowd).
By the end of the game, it was USA 7 - Canada 4.
But in the end, it didn't matter, we all had an awesome time. It was a full house in a country that doesn't consider ice-hockey a local sport, which is amazing. And of course, I had to buy the boys Canada jerseys to take home. It's all part of the fun.
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