Flamingo Dancer’s blog

Sunday wasn't in the park

nobody@vox.com(Flamingo Dancer) — Sun, 28 Sep 2008 20:48:36 +1000

Today is MR FD's father's 91st birthday. The man has been "ailing" since he was 57 and had multiple bypass surgery in 1985. I am absolutely convinced that he has done a deal with the devil. SisterIL took them to lunch - to Sushi Train! Can you imagine taking a 91 one year old deaf man, and an 86 year old woman in a wheel chair to a sushi train lunch? She would have done it because she had some sort of discount voucher or some way to stuff her purse full of food without paying. They are very well off and can afford far more comfortable surroundings, but that is SIL. They had barely started the meal and the old man threw up. Naturally.

We went over and took them dinner and a birthday cake. All he wanted to talk about was how he had thrown up at lunch. Luckily he didn't say if it was actually on the sushi train so I was spared that visual memory. Watching him gum his dinner tonight was enough. He is living proof that only the good die young, and the evil live forever.

Daughter 2 has done Germany and is now onto Budapest. She says she misses me, so obviously I must have done something right somewhere at some time that I am worthy enough to miss. I miss her too, but am so happy that she is seeing the world.

Apparently it is Monday tomorrow, and I must go to work. I am working a 4 day week this week so that is something to look forward to... hold the thought, hold the thought, be strong anf brave...sigh.

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Happy first day of winter!

nobody@vox.com(Flamingo Dancer) — Sun, 01 Jun 2008 22:08:31 +1000

When eldest daughter was little if anyone would ask her when her birthday was she would always answer "the first day of winter". June 1st. Today she is 29. She walked around all day saying she couldn't believe that she was 29. I can't believe she is 29 either! I have a 29 year old child - shit!

The month before her birth I had to spend lying on my left side in hospital battling high blood pressure and suffering daily blood tests. Finally the doctor said tomorrow is the day, we will induce.I told Mr Flamingo to go home and prepare to be called out earlier as I just had a feeling something was going to happen. Have a shower and have clothes ready I said.....

That night I went into labor. I was taken to the delivery room, husband summoned. I was examined by the midwife who disappeared quickly. I could hear her phoning someone. Next thing through a haze of gas I hear her saying something about meconium and a sign that baby was in trouble. Doctor arrived and he said I had to have a caesarean. All I remember after that was hearing the doctor make another phone call and saying "Do you want to make a quid (dollar)" as I was wheeled into theatre. I imagine it was to the anaesthetist, who sent a huge account later!

Later I awoke in recovery to be told we had a daughter. She was perfect. The cord had been twisted around her neck hence the distress but all was well now. When they gave her to me she looked up at me and her face said "Hi Mum, let's party". She had already met her Daddy who had not heeded my instructions and so had only arrived at the hospital in time to be handed an alfoil clad daughter before she was whisked into a humdicrib for a couple of hours to be monitored. He had left to call grandmas and aunties so daughter and I had some quiet girl time and got to know each other.

Like life with daughters there have been highs and lows and worries and celebrations. A live in boyfriend who thought that he had found the person to support the drug habit to which he would like to get accustomed too. A career as a broadcast journalist that changed into a teaching career. Moves out of the parental home, back into the parental home, back out of the parental home and for now back into the parental home.

She laments the lack of a partner but true mother that I am I tell her better to be single than married to a drunken wife beater with 14 children. Strangely, I don't think she finds that a comfort at all! My daughters have been raised to believe in themselves and not to settle for second best just to have someone. I have always told them that another person does not complete you, you have to be complete to share life with another person. Maybe I have made them too discerning! More mother guilt!

I tell her to think of the students' lives she has touched. Champion of the underdog, her class favourite will always be the runt of the class, the misfit. She will take on school management like a person possessed to fight for the cause of one of her children. I tell her that she influences lives for years to come after they have passed through her class and that is something few people can comfort themselves with in the night.

She has brought value to the world and value to our lives. At various times she has worried, bamboozled, amused, terrified, stunned, confused, surprised, comforted and rewarded us. We have always been proud and grateful that she chose to come and live with us. She took on the hard job of being the first, the eldest, so she had to show us how to be parents, pull us up when we were wrong, stun us when we got it right! We learnt a lot along the way and she appears to have forgiven us all our mistakes. And she had a few to forgive.

We love you Lucy Long Legs, you are our fairy at the bottom of the garden, our pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Happy days to you my darling. Long happy days of sunshine and love, because that is what you have been to us.

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Ladies who take tea

nobody@vox.com(Flamingo Dancer) — Sun, 06 Apr 2008 20:26:50 +1000

I was the Queen of High Tea today. My mother, sister and niece joined with my two daughters and I to take high tea to celebrate my birthday tomorrow, We had a silver tea serivce each and fine bone china cups, as well as individual 3 tier platters of ribbon sandwiches, scones with cream and jam, and an assortment of sweets, such a mini lemon curd tartlets, and tiny chocolate cupcakes. It was a delight.

On the way there we got stuck in traffic on the freeway. The main roads team had decided that this afternoon was a fine afternoon to do some tree lopping along the highway. No doubt it was, and I will appreciate it next time I am forced to drive along that road in a storm or high winds. But today they just stood between me and the food! I was so prepared for high tea that I had skipped lunch so I got a bit, well a lot, grumbly when I saw the traffic ahead, first slow and then start merging into one lane. But I tried to be a good little flamingo dancer and bide my time and eventually we got to the restaurant.

And they had got our booking wrong. And to think that I telephoned just yesterday afternoon to confirm all the details. I am glad that I did that because it made it all the more IRRITATING that they had got the time wrong and there were no free tables. We had to sit on a couple of couches until someone satisfied their appeitities and left. Very nice couches, blue suede I think if my memory is still holding. Bit too comfy though with my mother, my sister and I planted all on one little couch.

But once again I told myself not to let this universe beat me down. However I was starting to think that SOMETHING or SOMEONE was trying to send me a message about turning 50. I tried to dismiss the thought as negative mumbo jumbo but it was difficult while being cheek to cheek (and you know which cheek I mean) with my mother and sister. Even at such close quarters, my Mum who has just turned 81 couldn't hear anyone and started talking loudly about the stupid people not being ready for us and why couldn't we sit at that table over there? Because it is a table for 2 Mum and we are a party of 6...

Finally they strung two tables together for us in a fairly nice corner and seated us with menus. Niece announced that she is 13 and A HALF weeks pregnant with baby number 3 (happy, joy, joy) and then started to assail the poor waitress with all the things she couldn't eat (nothing except bread and water I decided after hearing the list)

How do pregnant women survive these days? They can't eat anything. No processed meat, no shell fish, lord the list went on and went until I almost blacked out. How my children ever managed to be born with only one head I have no idea. I ate everything. In fact I used it as an excuse to eat two of everything because I adhered to the old policy of eating for two. Now the poor women have a list of don't eats so long that the gestation period is over before they can recite it all!

However I did have a sense of perverse fun listening to niece wade through her list and negotiate her food requirements with the waitress who was working really hard to speak English in the first place. I thought about going out and ducking around the corner for a quick bite to eat until she ordered but luckily they both connected and something was ordered.

The food was great. We ate like women who had been at a health farm for three weeks - it was obscene how fast it all disappeared. We were like little fat cats at the end and I am surprised someone didn't let go with an indelicate burp at the end, but we managed to remain civilised until we left.

I had some gifts to unwrap when we returned home. My mother, no doubt more than ably assisted by my sister, out did herself. She gave me a rather large umbrella, the perfect size for tropical downpours. And it was decorated all around the rim with DANCING FLAMINGOS! I thought my family never listened to me. Heaven forbid they must have. I love the way flamingos dance - all together in a group, first one way, and then the other. Together but each alone in their own little moment. Beauty in motion. Mindfulness ! I shall treasure that umbrella for a very long time.

Families. Love them, or leave them, they can still surprise you sometimes. I am fortunate in mine. Very fortunate. I am a very lucky woman.

My mother , on the other hand is horrified that her baby is 50 years old. She thinks I make her look old!

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The Birthday hat

nobody@vox.com(Flamingo Dancer) — Sat, 05 Apr 2008 17:33:20 +1000

The birthday hat is a fine example of haute couture. It is a one off creation by a most selective milliner. Well two milliners actually. They carefully crafted the birthday hat some 15 or so years ago, and it is only permitted to ne worn by one by one particular person, on one special day each year.

I alone have the privilege of wearing this one of a kind creation on my birthday each year - for the entire day (if at home!!!)

birthday hat

Isn't it beautiful? I first don it as we sit to open my gifts and then I wear it proudly for the rest of the day. I think it was made with love...best not to investigate real motives too closely!

My most endearing memory of a day with the birthday hat is some 10 or so years ago when I donned it in the morning and wore it wouthout comprehension for the rest of the day. It was also the day my parents-in-law were moving from the same town that we lived in (it was a very goood birthday that year!) They had arranged for the moving van to stop off at out house to unload an antique dresser that they were giving to us. I had to show the delivery men where to leave the dresser and sign for the delivery. I noticed the lingering looks and thought to myself how I must have still had that certain spark.

Yes that's right, I still had the birthday hat on my head....they probably thought my parents in law were leaving town to get away from their kooky daughter in law. It was too late to do anything, so I waved them off with my hat in place and no explanation.

So the birthday hat has moved cities with us, in and out of boxes, thrown into the back of cupboards and is resurrected each year. It will obviously be brought into action again for this birthday.

When something is made with such love and attention to detail what else can you do but wear it with pride?

BUT IF THEY TRY AND BURY ME WITH IT ON MY HEAD I AM GOING TO HAUNT THEM INTO ETERNITY!

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Official Opening of Birthday season

nobody@vox.com(Flamingo Dancer) — Fri, 04 Apr 2008 23:15:07 +1000

I have received my first birthday card, and my first bunch of birthday flowers so I am declaring this the official opening of brithday season - even though the big day is Monday.

I am worried because I am not good at the kissy kissy thing. And major birthdays are full of kissy kissy. Dear me.

You know what I mean. How other women lunge at you and plant a kiss on your cheek, or heaven forbid one kiss on each cheek. I am always so awkward. Do I stand there frozen like and let them acost me? Or should I bravely offer a cheek, when I would rather not. Do I kiss them back? One cheek, or two?

It is even worse when they are much shorter than you. You see the upward lunge and then to have to be polite and bow down to their level. Often you end up with a kiss on your jaw or your neck. Then the opposite if they are taller than you. You get a face full of bosom and lipstick somewhere up near your eyebrow.

Why did we start this? Isn't "hello" enough of a greeting? Do I have to pretend that I am over joyed to be in your physical presence? Why do you want to smooch me just because we have met? All it does it make me wonder if I am walking around with lipstick on my face in a shade obviously not my own.... and if you left it there on purpose.

My sister in law kisses me if she is just going to the corner store for milk. I stand like a frozen soldier on midnight patrol pretending I am overjoyed to be branded so, all the while trying to be cool about her being in my personal space. Wishing Scotty would beam me up anywhere but here.

Birthdays, so much to worry about.

And I haven't done all the things on my list that I intend doing before I am 50. Well I haven't even made the list. To be honest I can't think of anything list worthy. So it is not a failure really is it, if there is nothing to write on a nonexistent list? Maybe I need a lie down, a nice lie down until I turn 50. That will do,

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Taking stock.

nobody@vox.com(Flamingo Dancer) — Tue, 18 Mar 2008 20:28:01 +1000

50. It feels like a neon light. I am turning 50 in two weeks – like flashing letters lighting up the Hollywood night sky. Reality check.

Is my life cup, my holy grail, half empty or half full? Am I on the road to everywhere or to nowhere? Does anything have to be answered today? Like a judge sitting in his wig and robes can I ponder my conclusions until another day?

Do I care, that 50 being the new 40, I am about to become middle aged? Do I wear it well? What about the little girl inside, who raced through the long hot summer days does she understand what has become of us? The long haired 70s chick in the cheesecloth and tie dye? What is her opinion? The young mother, has anyone seen her recently? What has become of me?

I certainly went missing for a long while. Parts of me went to other people, other places. It has taken some effort to regroup. I am not altogether sure that the parts came back together in quite the same way. Maybe that is the glory of it all. Being 50.

Little bits can go on field excursions collecting facts and figures, research data. Do I want to take that snippet on board? Experience clings to me like little pieces of fabric stitched with Velcro. Try and wring it from me and you will hear the ”snatch” sound as it lets go. It is mine, it is mine.

This is me.

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Let them eat cake...and lots of it!

nobody@vox.com(Flamingo Dancer) — Sun, 16 Mar 2008 20:58:58 +1000

The dual birthday/ anniversary celebrations are complete. They came, they feasted, they left. I am exhausted. I always find being "nice" exhausting. I don't mean that nastily, but you know, all that hostess stuff, the cleaning and preparing before hand, the smiling and making sure everyone is comfortable and well catered for, the cleaning up between meals, or courses, the scheduling and seating and meeting needs and making conversation... all lots of fun, but jolly exhausting by the end of the day. Nice is hard work. I think that is why there are so many bitches in the world. They have given up trying, much easier to be mean or thoughtless. Less personal cost. But it keeps you up at night!

Anyway, true to our German ancestors (why you are not eating? are you sick? do you not like the food? I will go kill a calf for you then?) we ate ourselves silly. Started with a bar-b-que lunch.

The average Australia bar-b-que goes like this. Wife tells husband bar-b-que happening on weekend. She shops, cleans and prepares side dishes and desserts, marinates meat. He greets guests. Wife hands him the matches, the cooking utensils, cooking oil, meat etc. He cooks. She sets the table, hands out drinks, presents side dishes, keeps eye on husband cooking. He finishes cooking the meat (grilling one side, then flipping and grilling other side) then he puts it on a platter which she takes to the table, and announces meal is ready and helps serve everyone. All guests and wife then sit around saying how wonderful the meat is, how well cooked, isn't he wonderful. He gets all credit and she gets none. If she is lucky other females help her to clear away afterwards, if not she does alone, while husband retells her how well he cooked the meat.

Our day was much the same! Except my husband was assisted in the gruelling task of cooking by my brother-in-law, who may have actually flipped more meat than husband. What heroes!

Anyway then we went onto the cakes -

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First Daughter's birthday cake

and then Grandma's birthday cake...

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and for those who had not reached their cake fill... some cup cakes baked by my sister

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yes, we did appear to have a bit of a floral theme going!

I MAY NEVER EAT AGAIN!

well at least until tomorrow....

P1020708_0347

The most worrying thing is that my husband's birthday is two weeks from tomorrow and my birthday a week after that! SO MUCH CAKE!

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Happy Birthday my darling young one.

nobody@vox.com(Flamingo Dancer) — Thu, 13 Mar 2008 19:56:58 +1000

One of my two favourite daughters (I only have 2) is having a birthday next week. She will be 27. I can't believe that she is going to be 27.

On the day that she was born and they handed her to me I knew that she had been here before. You could see she was an old wise soul. When she was just months old if I held her against my shoulder and patted her back, her little hand would reach around and pat me on the back at the same time! When she was a toddler and upset she would roll her bottom lip down and I would tell her that her lip was down so far I could plant petunias in it! She always wanted to do what her big sister did, even though big sister was 21 months older. When baby brother came along, she was 4 and not too happy about the change. I would rock him to sleep on the rocking chair and just as I got him to sleep she would come close and pull his arm or leg to wake him up. She thought she was punishing me, but if only she knew I wanted him to sleep and have some time with her just as much she!

She was always 5 going on 39 growing up. She would come home from pre-school and later school and go straight to her dress up box. She had old lace curtains that belonged to her Grandmother and she would drap these about herself, and don some of my old shoes and clatter through the house. Usually her lips were a vibrant shade of red and there was always some plastic jewellery, a necklace or bracelet as well. She was in all her glory.

She was an anxious child. Some days she would throw up in the car on the way to preschool. Leaving her Mummy was very hard but with the help of big sister we managed.

Daughter no 2 was always a head taller than everyone else in her class. And she was always the chubby one. The other children were often mean and her older sister would round on her tormentors and threaten them if they didn't leave her sister alone. She was also very bright, more advanced intellectually than most of the other children. It made life difficult for her.

We opted to send our favourite daughters to a private all girls high school as we knew they would be more comfortable without males in their environemnt at that stage. It was the right decision as they blossomed into strong, independent women.

The Christmas before Daughter 2 turned 15 she developed a rash all over her body, a high temperature, and aches. It lasted for about two weeks, but she never regained her energy. Every day when I picked her up from school she would say how tired she was. At Easter that year she went to bed and did not rise again for 9 months. We call it the Year of being Horizontal. She wore out three pairs of sheets!

We took her to our family doctor, who quickly decided she was a depressed fat teenage girl with bad skin. We asked to go to a specialist. We did. Multiple ones. No one could see past the fact that she was overweight. The overweight was part of the problem.

Her spirit was ebbing away in front of us. We were frantic as we KNEW there was something wrong and just could not get anyone to listen. My heart knew she was fading away from us. Eventually we heard of a Professor from Newcastle University who was doing research into Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and was giving a lecture in our home town. As soon as he started to speak we knew we had our question answered. We were not given any false hope but we knew what we were fighting now.

We started our own course of treatment. We found an alternative health specialist, a young woman only abut 10 years older than our daughter and they clicked mentally from day one. We followed the treatment, and while it was more often one step forward and three back we gradually got back onto our feet.

By the beginning of the next year Daughter 2 was able to go to school until the first school break 11am, then until 1 pm and then a whole day. Weekends she was exhausted. It was sheer guts and dtermintation that got her going and kept her going.

She developed allergies to milk, something she had never had before. She had continual sore throats. They even removed her tonsils but it didn't help. She would lie on the floor and cry with the pain in her joints. She could not do anything that the other girls her age did. But somehow she found the strength to go on.

She wanted to be a doctor so that she could right some of the wrongs she had suffered. However Queensland had an interview system that was part of the admission process and from the questions asked it was obvious that they only saw a fat girl "do you think you would have the energy to be a doctor?" and she was turned down. She was heart broken. I will never forget her tears. Arrogant medical profession.

Over time things improved, but she still has problems. We have no expectation that she will ever be the child she was. She knows that she has to pace herself. Now she is on a dairy free, gluton free diet and that has helped. She has also been diagnosed with polycystic ovary syndrome and that helped account for the weight and the acne. She joined weight watchers about 18 months ago and has lost about 25 kgs.

Today she is a lawyer. A social butterfly. A friend magnet . A caring adult. A beautiful, wonderful woman.

Tomorrow I am going to bake her birthday cake as we are celebrating on Sunday with a family lunch. She shares a birthday with her Grandmother, my mother who will be 81. The same day is our wedding anniversay - 31 years! It is a busy day. She will be the star of the show.

She has asked for a chocolate cherry fruit cake. I made her one last year and she adored it and so has asked for another one this year. Tomorrow I will go and buy the cherries and the chocolate and the soy milk and the gluten free flour and mix it with love and joy and add in blessings, and thanks, with each stir of my spoon.

I love you, you glorious, beatuiful creature. Thank you for choosing me to be your mother.

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My baby's birthday

nobody@vox.com(Flamingo Dancer) — Thu, 28 Feb 2008 17:57:19 +1000

Today my baby is 23 years old. He is our third child, and first son. Even though we already had two daughters, during the whole 9 months of pregnancy I had secretly been wishing for another daughter. Raising girls seemed so natural to me. People would say to me, gee you must really want a boy this time, and I would verbally agree with them. In my heart though I wanted a girl.

So, when I was told it was a boy, I went into a kind of shock. For the first three days I kept thinking, I don't know what to do with a boy, I don't know anything about football, or boy stuff, what the hell am I going to do.

Well, 23 years later, I still don't know anything about football, and certainly nothing about boy stuff. But JPR is tucked into my heart as I have learned only a son can be. I look at him and think how did I produce this foreign creature? Somehow, I did, we did. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Happy birthday, JPR. You are an incredible MAN.

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The harshest cuts

nobody@vox.com(Flamingo Dancer) — Thu, 24 Jan 2008 05:19:54 +1000

I share the office with a woman who is a truly good person. She is helpful and generous, thoughtful and caring. Frequently, she bakes cakes and brings them in for morning tea. This week was her birthday. Everyone knows it was as we have a intranet office birthday calendar. I baked cupcakes and with another person in the office who also baked, gave her a small gift.

What surprised me is that, for the second year running, no one else made any effort on her behalf. A message even went up on the intranet inviting everyone to share in our little morning tea celebration, but no one came. It seems to me a small cost to take 10 minutes from your work day to participate in wishing someone a happy birthday. Especially when that person is the backbone of the office and is the first person that everyone runs to for help with anything. There was even a reward attached - the food- and they couldn't stir themselves.

And this woman will go on being helpful and generous, thoughtful and caring.

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