Pretty House of Glebe

I love sticky-beaking in other people's homes. This may be evident from posts like The Bookclub Problem and from many of the interior design blogs I read and magazines I buy. I truly am more interested in the inside of homes than the outside. Specially in Glebe when its hard to see inside the homes!

Of course there are some very lovely and very beautiful homes, from the outside in Glebe but just recently I have come across a couple of homes which stand out. Not because they are big or unique in design but because they are standard terrace houses, the same build as the others in the row, that their owners are obviously proud of and have done a careful job of making pretty.

Charlie and I went for an afternoon walk recently with the express goal of getting lots of pictures of one or two of these houses. Unfortunately there were lots of people out and about and I felt a little self-conscious snapping photos of houses that weren't mine. I got a few sneaky ones though.....

This house has been painted completely white and it looks amazing against the red rusted corrugated roof. 

They have really thought about how to use plants to set this house off. They have white roses just inside the fence line.

Look at the window box behind these roses and the little strawberry plants around the base of the roses below:

 On the balcony there are gorgeous pots of red geraniums (and I don't even like geraniums that much!), some weepy greenery in pots against the walls (no idea what) and a plant in the corner (again, don't know what it is. I'm such an informative blogger) but the whole front of this house just seems to work and look great. Don't you think?

 

It's a real piano!

So I reckon Aiden is a relatively musical kid. When he was a baby he loved being sung to. We had many road trips when the only way to stop him screaming was for Arran and I to sing Old MacDonald. We would take turns at coming up with animals for the other to do the sound for. "And on that farm he had a.....Rhinoceros? Lizard? Koala?" It can get nasty on a road trip with a baby screaming in the back.

Aiden has always been really good at going to bed (until his recent bouts of screaming "I WANT TO GO TO THE BIG BOY TOILET" after he has been put to bed, but that's a whole other post. Dam toilet training). It's nice to listen to him in bed because he sings to himself and sings in tune. Sometimes he sings the "Happy Birthday" song including hip-pip, horrah! Funny. Sometimes he sings the "Thomas the Tank Engine" theme song. Kill me.

So Arran and I agreed that while Aiden has a vision impairment we would support him in whatever he wants to do. Realistically though, neither of us are likely to be doing much encouragement for him to play any kind of team sport. We are not a sporty pair. He will be encouraged to ride a bike and perhaps swim, that will be about it. Music it is in our family. Both of us learned music so it seemed natural that our kids should be exposed to learning music also.


Learning piano seemed the natural first step and I will be investigating a Suzuki method piano teacher. Enter Mum, Aiden's Nan who asked if we would like her piano for Aiden. Umm..yes...are you sure?....that would be very nice....really?


So last week a big shiny white truck arrived in our very small side street and delivered a fully restored 80+ year old piano. The previous week we had been given strict instructions. Repeatedly.
1. "Don't touch the candelabras!!!" A somewhat unrealistic request when over the years when the piano lived in Mum's house that were touched and adjusted continually. But now they are been cleaned and are super shiny....

2. Aiden must wash his hands before playing the piano. Fair enough. Yesterday while he was happily sitting on the big boy toilet (with the door shut and me on the other side), chatting to himself...he was playing with his recently produced poo. When I entered the bathroom after being informed "I WANT TO GET OFF THE BIG BOY TOILET" I found poo on his hand, in his hair, on his face, on his shirt, on the toilet seat.....enough said. 

3. "Only let the cleaners use a soft cloth to clean the piano. Nothing else! No polish, no oil and no Mr Sheen." And there I was thinking you could use Mr Sheen on anything! "And tell them not to touch the candelabras!!!" The piano arrived when the cleaners were at my house. Mum wanted to know if they thought it was lovely!! My Chinese cleaners, who don't speak any English, only care about Charlie. They arrive each week and fight over who gets to hold him. I suspect they don't give a rats about another piece of furniture they need to clean.

Ah I'm being flippant (and hopefully a little funny. Sorry Mum). So here is a bit of the story of how we came to have in our home a very beautiful and irreplaceable piano. A gift that Aiden doesn't realise how special it is or how much his Nan loves that piano and how proud she was to be able to give it to Aiden, and also how sad she was to see it go from her home. And she will probably cry when she reads this. Mum wrote the history down for me.

The piano belonged to Aiden's Great, Great Grandmother Eulalie M. Walker (nee Symington) who was born on 10/7/1887 and died on 12/10/1997 aged 100 years.

I believe she bought the piano when she was in her twenties -- it is not yet 100 years old, however the piano stool I understand was second-hand and so older than the piano and likely more than 100 years old at the present.

My grandmother, Eulalie Symington, gave the piano to when I was about 11 years old and I have treasured it ever since, as did my Grandmother who kept it covered with a very thick cover the whole time she owned it.  I hope that it will be treasured by Aiden and that it will still be in good order in another 100 years and that it will be handed down in the family and never sold.  I hope that it will provide enjoyment to many more musicians over the years and that both Aiden and Charlie get to have a grounding in music because of it.

The Bookclub Problem

One of the things that I noticed when I moved to Sydney 10 years ago is the difference in socialising. Specifically I found that people don't tend to invite you to their houses very often. If there is an event to be celebrated, such as a birthday, you are invited to a restaurant and you pay for your meal and drinks. It's fine, but not that personal. 

I was reminded of this recently when Charlie and I were out for a walk on a sunny, sparkly Autumn afternoon. I struck up a conversation with a lovely Irish woman who was enjoying a cheeky wine in the sun at Blackwattle Bay.  We chatted about all sorts of things and somehow not being invited to Sydneysider's homes was one of the topics! It's not just me who has noticed this phenomena!

The most I have been to people's houses is post having children. It's not that much fun taking a baby and a 3 year old to a cafe or restaurant. Actually Aiden is fine. It's Charlie that's the bugger! Maybe it's the size of people's houses? Maybe people aren't good cooks? Maybe people in the big smoke just like to get out?

The first time I got invited to someone's home in Sydney, was for Bookclub. Not long after I landed my first job in Sydney I met Laura. At the time, Laura was the girlfriend of one of my work colleagues Nathan. At our first meeting she invited me to come along to her Bookclub. Hurrah! A new friend and the potential to meet more while reading books. All good. 

I love Bookclub. It was just the right group of people and format for me. The three things I love are:

1. I have met some great people who work in interesting jobs and industries. A couple are/were editors for Who Magazine (so cool) and some work in PR. There is a whole variety of jobs and interests in the group. Love that. This has made for diverse discussions over the years.

2. We have a relaxed format. People who I have spoken to over the years about my Bookclub, talk to me about their Bookclub experiences. Many Bookclub's seem quite structured. For example at the start of the year a book-list is posted for the whole year with the members not having a choice of what books they read. Then the book club meetings are quite serious with structured 'Bookclub' discussion questions. A bit too much like high school English if you ask me.

Our Bookclub is relaxed. We pick a book at each meeting to read and discuss at the next meeting. We also set the meeting date from meeting to meeting. And the way we choose the book differs. We don't discriminate on the style of book and we are not literary snobs. We generally have a discussion about what to read next. Sometimes we choose a book because it's getting a lot of press or media attention like when we read "The Bride Stripped Bare". Other times we choose a book based on a small review in the paper or because a movie is coming out. We read "Girl with a Pearl Earring" and went to see the movie starting Scarlett Johansson for our book club meeting. We chose a book set in Melbourne when we did a weekend trip to Melbourne as a group. One of our founding members Simone moved back there and organised a fab weekend for a group of us. We had so much fun we didn't really talk about the book! Simone writes a great blog on breastfeeding on Miranda Kerr's website Kora, and is about to leave her editing job to start her new career as a private lactation consultant. Go Simone!

Sometimes we choose a classic, such as Wuthering Heights and other times we have done something a bit more in the Chick lit genre. We chose to read The Slap when it was starting to get some hype and we went to see Christos Tsiolkas, the author, speak at the Sydney Writers festival. We had lunch afterwards and could not stop speaking about the book. I have just finished watching the TV series "The Slap", based on this book. Really, really good Australian drama that is true to the novel. We also saw the author of "We Need to Talk about Kevin", Lional Shriver at the Sydney writers festival another year and had dinner afterwards. We have chosen a book based on a painting that hangs in the Art Gallery of NSW called "Five Bells" and then went to see the painting as part our Bookclub outing, along with drinks and dinner. A culture fix that night!

As you can see we like to mix it up a bit. It's also not a big deal if you don't read the book, though it can make discussion tricky. Early on in my Bookclub attendance I just couldn't get into the selected book "Middlesex" by Jeffrey Eugenides. I went along to that meeting only having read a couple of chapters and then discarding it. The rest of the group loved the book and talked so animatedly about it, that it made me persevere. It turned out to be a great book and I'm glad I tried again. That's the great thing about Bookclub. You get to read things you wouldn't normally read.


3.  While we have quite a few outings, we often just meet at someone's house. With lots of nibbly food and wine on a Saturday afternoon. This satisfies my need to check out other people's lovely homes and have a much more personal and relaxed experience.

So what's the problem? Our Bookclub hasn't met for maybe 12 months. Sigh. Everyone has been busy, I know, but I'm really hoping this post remind us all how fun Bookclub is, and helps us commit to meeting up again.

It sucks coming 2nd!

Remember how Cadel Evans won the Tour de France last year? He became Australia's latest sports hero. Most Australians had no idea who Cadel Evans was until this win. We are a parochial lot that way. Anyone know who came second? Anyone?

Which brings me to Charlie. Poor Charlie. He has started going to day-care at Caring 4 Kids, one day a week. I at least need to get him in 3 days a week, so I can go back to work in early April.  So far only one day has come up so I had to take it. They are so awesome that no-one wants to leave and the waiting list is large. While I was there last Friday there was three other parents asking for extra days. Gulp.

I'm hoping Charlie's cuteness moves him up the waiting list at Caring 4 Kids!

When Aiden started going to day-care I was very organised. He had his own little back pack with his name on it as well as cot sheets (labelled with his name), bottles (labelled with his name), he had "onesie" singlets, specially purchased so his tummy wouldn't get cold if his shirt rode up and there was no one there to pull it down. He had bibs with his name on them too.

Charlie went off to day-care last week with bottles labelled with his brother's name, which he won't drink from (he only likes boob), cot sheets that wouldn't fit on the cots at day-care, (not labelled) and his 'things' in an "enviro" shopping bag. Poor Charlie. 

Very optimistic packing all these bottles!

Charlie's clothing situation is not great either. Being the second boy in the family there is heaps of (hand-me-down) clothes for him to wear, in theory. Aiden ended up having lots of clothes, despite there not being the same range of clothing to purchase for boys, as there is for girls. Any children's clothing store or children's section of department store seems to have 75% girls stuff and somewhere towards the back there is some navy, green, brown and if you are lucky, red, mostly uninspiring clothing for boys. And I still managed to buy Aiden heaps of clothes. 

The only problem is that Aiden and Charlie were born at different times of the year. Aiden in March as Sydney moved into winter and Charlie in October as the weather started to warm up. This means that Charlie gets to wear about a third of Aiden's hand-me-downs. And because I seem to have clothes everywhere in the boy's room I haven't bought any more. Poor Charlie.


Of course this neglect started at the very beginning. When Aiden was born a professional photographer visited the hospital to take some new-born shots. We loved them and many people asked who took them (Footprints Photography) and some friends have gone on to use them for their baby shots. Here is one of our favourites:

Aiden, 3 days old.

When Charlie was born the hospital was packed with women and their babies. Charlie and I were shipped off to the Crown Plaza at Codgee to enjoy the Little Luxuries program (tough gig I tell you) because I was a 2nd time mum and because our health fund had decided to cover the cost. There were no professional photographers at the Crown Plaza. Poor Charlie.

Luckily in the past week, the mummy-guilt kicked in and a few things have arrived for poor Charlie.

 Here is Charlie's new bag. It arrived on Monday. Phew! 

Here are Charlie's labels. They arrived today. Yah!

Better take a good look at these labels because after a flurry of labelling I will probably put them somewhere safe, and then not remember where I put them. On the positive side I have just found the labels I ordered when Aiden was Charlie's age!

I have also procured some brand new cot sheets for Charlie for him to use at day-care. He has a new bottle with a softer more boob-like teat which "the girls" at Caring 4 Kids, think he will like a bit better.

And luckily in January our lovely friend Andrea Thompson came to visit and photograph Charlie. She managed to get some beautiful shots between him screaming his head off, for no apparent reason. Maybe he had a hint of the neglect ahead of him?

The Mean Streets of Glebe

For about 3 weeks now there has been 2 young guys living in a car in the street beside our house. I first noticed the car because it has signs in its window advertising its sale. Apparently it's a great car in excellent condition. These guys must work in politics, or at least aspire to. The car is a 1998 purple Magna with QLD plates. It only has 154,000 km on the clock. I guess that's not a whole lot for a 14 year old car. The paint over the majority of the car has lost its shine and in many places is faded, worn off and crazed and cracked. There is a large wide scratch/dent over one of the wheel wells and the tinted back window has bubbled. It also comes with lots of camping gear. And did I mention they are living in it? There are sheets in that car to sleep under and one of the guys keeps his contact lens case on the centre console near the handbrake. Homey. 

Would you buy this vehicle for $2,499 ONO?


Now I kinda feel a bit sorry for the guys. I guess they have no money to live anywhere else at the moment. Sydney is an expensive city and you don't get much for your money. Their age, dress and the fact that they have camping gear makes me wonder if they are "backpackers" travelling around Australia and they are towards the end of their trip. Whatever the reason I have found myself wondering about the etiquette of this situation. After all, they are our neighbours. Should I show my concern for their welfare? We have phoned the police, more from the fact that we would prefer they didn't live in their car in our street, than from concern for their welfare, which by the way is the only time the police will intervene. Should I invite them in for a cuppa? A hot shower? Just say hello? Today they unpacked the car on the path, maybe they were doing their weekly clean?


You know what my biggest issue is? They get to sleep in. What I wouldn't give for a sleep in. They are both asleep in there, with their windows wound down about 5cm on each side, when I walk Aiden up to daycare at about 8.30am. They usually rise sometime between 10 and 12. Lucky buggers. 


Of course I am being flippant. I know there is a serious side to the situation. They could be living in their car for any number of reasons. Homelessness is a sad and growing concern around Australia and you can read more about it here. Glebe certainly has a number of well known homeless people. When we lived in the Beirut end of Glebe I had experience with a very sad situation which must get repeated all around Sydney.


I was 5-6 months pregnant with Aiden and home sick from work with a sinus infection. Our Glebe St house was very close to the Broadway Shopping Centre where our local medical centre is located. I wandered up mid morning to see the Doctor in the hope of some antibiotics or perhaps just some sympathy. As I neared the shopping centre I walked past a couple just as the man punched the women in the face.  She fell to the ground just behind me. I picked her up from the cement while the man hurled abuse at her. I yelled back at him and he took off. Turning to the woman she sobbed through her bloody nose that she was 6 months pregnant and that was her boyfriend who had just hit her. Nice. 


I grabbed her by the arm and told her to come up to the Doctors with me to see about her nose. Turns out she was homeless. This information came to light when the Doctor's receptionist continued to ask insensitive and intrusive questions, which the girl could not answer. Eventually the girl took off without seeing the Doctor.  Apart from being homeless and not having a medicare number, she had no money to pay.


So here I was pregnant and worrying about whether we would ever go to restaurants again after our baby was born, and here was this girl who didn't have a safe home or stable relationship to bring her baby into. I think about that girl and her baby a lot. And I am grateful to have a comfortable home and great relationship.

So apart from the fact that these guys living on my street are clearly deluded about selling their car I think I will at least say hello tomorrow. It would be the neighbourly thing to do. Don't you think?

What's that word?

Yes it's been a little while. Sorry about that.

Last week the two small boys and I went to Coolangatta to spend time with Nan and Grandpa. It was a week of warm ocean swims, the Currumbin Wildlife Sanctuary (who hasn't been there when they were little to have a Lorikeet poop on your head?), lots of time in the pool and sitting on the balcony looking at the beach and the ocean. There was a lot of food eaten and much wine drunk. I even got a few walks in. Thanks Mum.

Greenmount Beach

As you can see Queensland remembered how to put on a sunny day, every day (pick your act up Sydney). Charlie got to have his first swim in the pool in a little floaty blow up ring. After the initial screams he seemed to like his little dip!

Where's my beer?

Beach baby Charlie

 Aiden got to swim a lot. Which he loves, loves, loves! Even when he and Grandpa got knocked over by a wave it's still a really good time. Aiden and Grandpa also had a great time out of the water. Grandpa got to learn lots of new and useful skills. For example, taking a small boy to the toilet when you are out for dinner. You have to lift Aiden up on the toilet and then Aiden insists you shut the door. Dad complied with his request and then a few moments later asked if he was finished. The man in the stall next door replied! And then later provided Dad with his phone number. Ace.

Peas in a pod?

Grandpa also learnt that Aiden only needs to hear a new word once before he can parrot it back and use it in the right context.  Aiden piped up with "I look sexy", in the lift with a group of other grandparent types. Yep. Not sure I want my son, who is not even 3, telling me he is sexy.  Thanks Grandpa. Aiden can also use the terms "Wacky-do" and "Wacko-the-did-dl-e-oh" in context. Whatever that would be. Nan is responsible for these additions to Aiden's already extensive vocab.

And it was a week that the grandparents learned that to deal with two small boys it's better if the whole household has an afternoon sleep. Otherwise everyone develops the common, but not well understood condition "cranky-pants". Luckily they understood that the evening goes well if it commences with wine at 5pm.

Just lazing about. Aiden and Grandpa

Nan and Charlie

Aiden and the Grandparents

Charlie and Grandpa

Put your own mask on, before helping others.

I have been lucky to travel a lot. Both for work and for holidays. My favourite way to travel is on planes. There is still a little romance left in this form of travel for me, even when I don't get to go business class. One Company I worked for only ever sent me overseas and only travelling business class to stay in 5-star hotels. All expenses paid. I call this period of my career the "Travel Princess" period. I travelled to London, Belgium, The Phillipines, India...sigh, anyway this is not the point. 

My point is that when you travel by air you always get the safety briefing, which includes demonstrating how to put an oxygen mask on your face, should they drop from the ceiling. I ask you, is there ever a circumstance when the mask drops from the ceiling, that it's all going to end well? Is the mask really going to help if you are about to pitch into the ocean?

During the demonstration you are always told to put your mask on before helping others, like children.

When Aiden was a new-born baby Arran used to ask me about what to do or how to do it, in regards to Aiden's care. Like I knew what I was doing! Eventually I said "Babe, just cause I gave birth doesn't mean I know all the answers! You're the Dad. You work it out!" I remember sitting at a sports field at the end of a Mountain Bike race (where else) when Aiden was very little. Arran had finished the race and I had gone off to get him a cold soft drink and a sausage in a piece of bread from the local Rotary Club BBQ. I came back to find Arran giving Aiden a bottle. "He was crying and I didn't know if he needed to be fed but then I thought, I'm the Dad, I can make a decision so I'm giving him a bottle". He was very pleased with himself. Smug even.

I don't think many women give over that kind of parenting power so early on, or ever for that matter. With both of us working full-time I didn't want to be the only person who could only put Aiden to bed or attend to his needs. I wanted both of us to share the parenting and the work load that goes with it, and that meant that Arran and I both had to feel confident doing everything. It works out pretty well most of the time though every now and again...... 

Charlie and I have been sick over the past week and one night at 2am Charlie decided to scream his lungs out. He wouldn't be comforted and wouldn't feed. He was hot so I left him lying on our bed (still screaming) to trek downstairs to find the baby Panadol I purchased that day. It was nowhere to be seen. I go back up stairs. Charlie has fallen asleep on our bed so I attempt to put him back in his cot. He woke up (of course) and continued his screaming. Arran finally wakes up and suggests that perhaps I should give him some Panadol. Gee. I hadn't thought of that. I WOULD IF I COULD FIND IT!!  Do you think you might have put it in the bin? says me. The next morning Arran finds the Panadol in the recycling bin outside where he had helpfully put it. And governments wonder about the rise in violent behaviour in women.

We do have a different approach though and from having coffee with my mother's group friends and listening to their complaining, I mean telling me about their warming family stories, there seems to be a consistent theme. It's seems that the Dads are good at putting their oxygen masks on, before helping others. In my limited experience and deep mother's group research that's what the Dad's do, when looking after the kids. They do their thing first and then attend to the kid. And it pisses the mummies off! A few examples:

• When Aiden was little and crying during the night, Arran would get get up to attend to him (usually after me pushing him hard out of the bed because he has learnt the ability to sleep through any amount of crying and screaming) but would stop on the way to go to the toilet. Aiden would be crying his little heart out and Arran is calmly doing a pee. I am lying awake listening to both these activities wishing I had gotten up instead.
• Arran and Aiden often have a shower together in the evening. When they get out Aiden stands dripping wet while Arran dries himself off. Then Arran dries Aiden but his hair is still very wet. Then they move into our bedroom where Arran gets dressed and then he takes Aiden into his room and dresses him. This is very similar to what one of my friend's husband does, except he gets dressed and makes himself a cup of tea before getting in trouble from his wife for leaving their little girl to wander around naked with dripping hair.
• If Arran is upstairs reading Aiden a story before bedtime, I will be downstairs cleaning up the kitchen. If I am upstairs feeding Charlie and putting him to bed, Arran is downstairs watching TV and playing on his computer.
• On Sunday, on returning home after an outing to buy more plants to kill, Arran left Charlie in the car because he needed to go to the toilet. When I gave him a 'look' he said "I didn't want to wet myself!" Has anyone seen a grown man wet himself recently because it took him an extra minute to get to the toilet? I think not.

I don't think the Daddies even realise they are doing it! It's some-kind-of built in thing to look after yourself first. I think the mum's put the oxygen mask on others before themselves. Again, its built in. I have grabbed Charlie a number of times in the middle of the night and been feeding him before realising I was busting to go to the toilet! And it really would be nice to not have breakfast at 10 when I have been up since 6. 


I guess it doesn't matter much in the end how things can done but geez it can be annoying. Do you put your mask on before helping others?

Charlie "Crackin it" (Andrea Thompson Photography)