You know how you have an empty nest, then a kid comes back, and then maybe goes away again. and maybe another kid will nest again for awhile? Well, this weekend we got a kid, a husband and a grandchild; for six to nine months.
Daughter, husband and Petite Fille’s home is undergoing major renovations. It means they need to vacant for the project. They had somewhere to moved to, but on the day of moving things went majorly astray, and with little more than a phone call we found ourselves welcoming them back home.
Because we haven’t had time to prepare, we are presently bursting at the seams, with our stuff and their stuff, and we all know how much stuff a toddler travels with! I have had to rescue a stuffed lemur from Augie Dog’s jaws more than once today.
Over the next week or so we will sort through things and move furniture around and maybe Son will have to move rooms, so that Petite Fille can be in her own room and near her parents. We have yet to discuss that one with Son… it is his birthday today and we thought we would allow him at least another day in ignorance.
This afternoon I was sitting outside in the late afternoon shade as Petite Fille played at making mud dams out of the pebble path Son had crafted so meticulously a few months ago, while son-in-law, Mr Boy, cooked sausages and potatoes on the bar-b-cue. Daughter1 was in the kitchen cooking more vegetables, and Mr FD was watching football on the television. Son and his mate were playing computer games. The parrots were performing their afternoon socialising and Augie Dog was asleep by the patio door. The thought occurred to me that I am an incredibly lucky woman, to live where I do, have the family I have and to be gifted with this precious time with our granddaughter, Petite Fille.
Now, someone just remind me of that thought over the next few months. I suspect I may just need some intense reminding from time to time…
More images that just “spoke to me”. And no, I did not speak back. Well, maybe just a thought or two…
Maybe I should start a contest, and you can tell me what the hell is going on inside my head!
Remember though, I carry a big stick.
My students writers group now has seven new members, most from year 7 and 8; one from year 9. The only boy is ASD, but obviously high on the Asperger spectrum. Incredible verbal skills and a passion for history. His levels of critical thinking blew me away.
The girls ran from one who was homeschooled for six months last year as she was having issues, another who has parents who are both pastors (obviously comfortable with catholicism though) and another who announced that “happiness is a word that has never been known in my family” and has a variety of parents, stepparents and siblings never met.
A couple are in my ICT classes this term and when I saw them walk through the does after school I sobbed to Minvera “God help me, what have I done to deserve this!” but what I feared as a difficult 90 minutes actually turned into quite an unexpected delight.
I particularly enjoyed speaking with the young boy, as he explained all sorts of Napoleonic sea battles and political machinations.
Then they moved onto the age old debate of “if there is a God why does he allow bad things to happen?” Of course, no one can answer that – why do bad things happen to good people? Our young man was of the opinion that it was better to live as a good person through a difficult life, than be a bad person living a so called easy life. His levels of critical thinking and communication skills are incredible and I completely reformed the opinion I had formed of him previously. At the end of the workshop I thanked him for coming along and contributing. I hope he continues with us.
One of the younger girls became a little glazed over at the history discourse, but I pointed out that she could use the details for her writing. She wondered how and I used the example of the Hunger Games and the parallels to the Romans and their Gladiators. I think she may have gained a new insight by the end of the afternoon.
Next week some of them are going to write about “My teacher’s secret life” Apparently I am being reimagined as a mafia boss!
We woke to the most beautiful blue sky morning. It was if the world was apologising for being so cruel in the last few days. The morning air had that autumn feeling, but any autumn changes are some weeks away.
It was the type of morning that made one want to get up and do something, something energetic. I curtailed the instinct with a cup of tea, and then another cup of tea. Moderation in all things.
Lunch time, I did venture out to pick tomatoes and salad leaves from our vegetable garden. By this time it was 33C outside and very, very muggy. Humid.
I pulled on my rain boots as the going was muddy, but I was rewarded by deep ruby red tomatoes and lush green salad leaves. Back in the house I was struggling to get my boots off, so asked Mr FD to assist.
Mr FD was sitting down so I had to stand beside his chair as he pulled on my boots. My frets were sweaty from the heavy foot ware, which made it a little tough – well, if it was easier I would have accomplished it myself, right?
One tug, two. Mr FD must have been under the impression I was third years younger and as flexible as a practising prima ballerina, because he kept raising my leg higher and higher. When it was level with my hip, I yelled “enough”. Oddly, the boot came away then.
Repeat on the second boot.
Afterwards, Mr FD commented, “Oh, I hope you can walk tomorrow, and not dislocated a hip or anything.”
Mr FD’s powers of hindsight are unparalleled.
The sun came out this afternoon. It is still raining on the coast, but inland it is starting to dry out. Quiet day at home, so I slept in. Augie Dog did too.
For some reason, Augie won’t move from my bedside until I do; even if Mr FD is up and about. Sometimes, he goes out for a toilet break, but then he comes back to my bedside. I can only guess that he is in the routine of my early, weekday risings to go to work, and thinks the day only starts if I get up. Or he just loves me best!
Got a bit carried away with the fruit today. Cooked apricot chicken for dinner, followed by an apple crumble served with vanilla bean greek yoghurt for dessert. We rarely eat dessert, so after all that food, I feel like a gluttonous little piggy!
Mr FD and I shared a bottle of white as well, which had us heckling the Prime Minister when he appeared on the evening news. We don’t need alcohol to heckle the Prime Minister, we do it most of the time, but alcohol makes us more creative with our insults and outrage.
Unable to sleep in the early hours of the morning, I wandered out to the kitchen. I flicked on the family room light, only to spy something small and brown near the door leading onto the patio. My sleepy eyes were blurry, despite wearing my glasses, but I was fairly certain it was a small cane toad!
Interesting, as our entire house, windows and doors have insect screens. The screens are stainless steel security mesh and frames, so how the little creature got into the house I have no idea.
“There’s a toad in the house,” I called back up the hall to Mr FD, still in our bed.
His disbelief was enough to bring on my self doubt. It wasn’t moving, but I wasn’t going to get any closer to investigate. “Well, it is either a cane toad, or Augie Dog has pooped in the house!” Either way I figured it was Mr FD’s problem.
A naked Mr FD walked down the hall. “It’s a frog!” A very dark green frog.
I didn’t really care what it was, it just needed to exit. I grabbed the long handled brush and dustpan and handed them to my beloved, well, Mr FD.
It was about then that Augie Dog emerged from our bedroom, where he sleeps by my side of the bed. Hunting toads is one of his favourite past times, even though they could make him ill. He is always being wrenched away from them when he goes out for his night time toilet breaks.
So, naked Mr FD and over excited, Augie duel for the frog. Mr FD won, by quick flicking of the dustpan brush into Augie Dog’s face, and the frog was despatched out through the screen door and back to its rightful place – outside.
A bit of a worry when there are cyclones approaching and even the frogs endeavour to to sit it out inside your house!
The cyclone crossed the Queensland coast midmorning, and while there was major destruction, so far there have been no reports of injury, or death. It is gradually weakening as it travels south, but continues dumping huge amounts of rain. It should reach Brisbane sometime tomorrow, probably as a tropical low, but the city is already experiencing minor flooding in some areas.
In our country nest we are soggy, very soggy. The wind increased this afternoon and the poor trees are swaying madly. The neighbours who wanted us to chop our trees down not so long ago, are probably sitting in fear in their home, but I don’t think they have anything to really fear. People can always be hit by a bus, as well.
I didn’t go to school, where the dramas continued. Today, there was a gas leak in one of the buildings, the science block I suspect, and so they had to move students into the library. I can only guess the mayhem that ensued, but these days, I refuse to stress myself out regarding situations that I can’t control. I am proud of our library, but if admin allows students to run amuck in my absence, well that is their issue, not mine. Not my zoo, not my monkeys.
It has been quite the week, hasn’t it? Happy to see it end. Saturday will be more rain, but hopefully, no major flooding for anyone – and the frogs won’t need to look for dry ground!