The Adventures of Annie and Her Boys

Here Comes the Sun

2012-02-10T05:14:00.000-07:00

I'd like to say that we had glorious weather all week. I wish I could complain about having to wear sunglasses, that I was getting little indentations on the sides of my nose from wearing them so much of the day. I'd like to announce that I'm sick of the color blue, that the skies had just been throwing their color in my face for days on end and I'm over it. I wish I could post some obnoxious status update on Facebook, something like 'Is it possible to wear a hole in a sand castle bucket? Picked up the kids from school and spent yet ANOTHER afternoon at the beach! Whew!'.

I wish I could say those things, but I heard today that it's supposed to continue to rain for the month of February. It's laugh or cry, right? Hahahahahahahaha (as I slip on my rain jacket, grasp my umbrella, and watch as the plumbers drain my building's flooded garage).

Even though the weather has been less than desirable, this week has in fact been glorious. Remember Alex, who hated his new school? One week ago today, he cried and told me he didn't want to go to school for the rest of the year. On Sunday night as we rode the high from our awesome beach and Sydney weekend, I asked him what his goal was for the upcoming week--he said to not complain on the walk to school. I thought that was great, and added that it would be nice to make a friend as well.

Well, I'm happy to report that not only did Alex meet his goal of not complaining on the walk to (and from) school, he also made a friend. Ahhhh, the clouds are parting.

AND--he was named Student of the Week for his 'enthusiasm and good grammar'.

AND--he got 100% on his spelling test today.

Jackson didn't have a shabby week, either--he earned WOW awards for various achievements, was notified that his 1st place in 50m butterfly earned him a right to compete at the regional swimming carnival against different schools, got 100% on his spelling test...

AND to top it off, he was voted one of two class representatives for Student Representative Council.

It may be raining outside, but somehow I'm only seeing sunshine at the moment.

Because Weekends Were Made For Fun

2012-02-06T05:06:00.000-07:00

**Any of you very few readers who had the distinct pleasure of roller skating at Hot Wheels in Miami in the mid-80s catch the song reference in the title??**

By Friday of last week, three out of five of us were in a downward spiral. As you recently read, Jackson was solid. Kenyon rocked his first week of school and was doing great. Sam was okay but even his wake-up-and-stretch-and-meditate routine that had armed him with Zen grooviness the first part of the week was starting to wane. Alex was actively despising school and everything related to it, and between absorbing Alex's stress and the rainy weather, to say I was on edge would be very kind.

The universe smiled upon us in the form of sunshine Saturday morning, and we eagerly packed up a lunch, gathered our beach gear and ran out the door. The stress of the preceding week was left in the wake as we practically skipped towards the beach.

We all were reborn with a renewed giddiness, and had a lovely time walking to City Beach. The water in the harbour was smooth as glass, and we could see straight to the bottom. We paused and pointed out different types of fish, and Jackson spotted a jellyfish lazily making its way through the water.

As Alex and I jumped waves, he was gleefully exclaiming things like "I feel like tip-tapping!" and "I'm so so happy right now!". I smiled and laughed, all the while silently hoping he could bottle up this joy and enthusiasm to help get him through this next school week.

On Sunday, we woke up bright and early to catch the train to Sydney, although trackwork on our line meant we ended up on the bus this time. Sydney and surrounding areas have Family Funday Sunday, which means that for a mere $2.50 per person, there is unlimited travel on trains, buses, and ferries in the greater Sydney area. A bargain in Sydney? It looks like this is the only one, so we're going to take advantage of it. I wanted to do something special to celebrate surviving the first week of school, so I bought tickets to the Harry Potter Exhibition at the Powerhouse Museum. Alex was chosen to be assigned to a house by the Sorting Hat; to his delight, he is a Gryffindor. No pictures were allowed, but the exhibition was an amazing display of Harry Potter film artifacts and the kids were enthralled by the entire thing. In fact, they loved the whole museum and were exclaiming that it was the coolest museum they had ever been to, even though much of it was under renovation construction.

We headed to Sydney's small Chinatown area for lunch and gorged ourselves on absolutely delicious dim sum. Dim sum is such a fun culinary adventure, and everyone loved it.

these sesame prawns were my favorite, although Kenyon enjoyed them as well

Alex loved the jasmine tea (cha), and specifically asked me to take a picture of him and his cha.

Jackson made friends with the man selling silhouettes for $2 and got one for free (although we tipped him $1). While it doesn't necessarily look like Jackson, it was pretty amazing to watch him cut out a silhouette so swiftly.

With full bellies, we headed to the Darling Quarter, where a massive playground with water features was beyond the kids' wildest imaginations.

Unfortunately, it was also beyond 563,295 other kids' wildest imaginations--and they were all at the playground as well. The simple math of 2 parents + 3 children + massive crowds + playground equipment=a casual father but a stressed-out mother; the risk of losing a child was scientifically calculated (by me) at 1 in 3.

the older boys hard at work at the water scoop...

...while Kenyon chillaxed in the bowl.

We managed the chaos until they had sufficient time to cool off and then called it quits, using Clever Parenting Trick #112--the vague promise of returning 'next time' so they can explore the rest of the park. To avoid the crowd factor, I'll have to make sure 'next time' is either during a severe hailstorm or at 2am, because it was if we had inadvertently used the Floo Network and found ourselves at Disney World.

Now ready to relax, we looked forward to a ferry ride for a little tour of the Sydney Harbour. On the walk over, we spotted this...

Words and my pictures don't do the Sydney Harbour justice--it's truly gorgeous, and we all loved every minute of the ferry ride.

I made a mental note to begin buying lottery tickets when I saw some of these estates with their private docks.

the entrance to Luna Park, Sydney's iconic amusement park

The Sydney Opera House is so fantastic.

A man playing the didgeridoo set to some background trance music occupied us during the wait for the bus home...

...and we all felt just like Kenyon did.

An epic weekend was had by all, and here's hoping it will carry us through the week until the next one. Looks like it's working so far--Alex met his goal of not complaining on the walk to school, and even made a friend!

Diving Right In

2012-02-05T03:54:00.000-07:00

On his first day at a new school in a new country, Jackson signed up for the swimming carnival--and not just one race, but all 5 of the available events: 50m freestyle, 50m backstroke, 50m breaststroke, 50m butterfly, and 100m freestyle. On Thursday, the day of the race, we were on day 2 of solid rain, so you can imagine how thrilled I was to have volunteered to be a timekeeper. Slogging the kids on foot to and from their schools hasn't been quite enough time in the rain for me, so on this day I got an extra 2.5 hour dose of grey skies and rain!!

In all honesty, I was really excited to see Jackson swim, and all the kids were in great spirits despite the wet weather--I'm just learning that blue skies are essential to my well-being and positive outlook.

But enough about me; this post is about Jackson. He was a champ, competing in all five of the events he signed up for, even though it meant that his towel was no match for repeated assaults by a wet kid and the rain. At some point it was probably making Jackson wetter. With each progressive race, I noticed a growing tinge of blue on his lips, but they remained curled into a smile.

It was hard to tell how he did; I was watching him while dutifully timing the lane I was responsible for, and some heats had mixed ages of kids. Besides, some of these kids swim competitively, and you could tell who they were by their strong, smooth strokes and their question of their time as soon as their heads emerged, dripping, from underwater. After the race, I rewarded Jackson with some hot chips (french fries) and cocoa, and he didn't even get out of the car to get his brothers from school; he had given his all and was completely tapped out.

The next day at school, there was a schoolwide assembly to announce the winners. Jackson, only being one of a few brave kids his age to do the 50m butterfly, walked away with this...

And then, if you all couldn't see his justifiable pride swelling from across the world already, he was also called up a second time to be recognized with a different certificate:

Awesome job, kiddo. Showing this gusto for life will take you good places, and I absolutely love watching you dive right into life.

Time For #3

2012-02-02T19:42:00.000-07:00

On Mondays and Fridays I have Kenyon all to myself. For the youngest of three kids, this time I have with him all to myself is so precious and I love it. Monday was gorgeous and we lazed at the harbour beach, the first hour spent making drip castles.

When a wave did the castle in, Kenyon converted into a personal bath, and we spent the next hour enjoying it while waves would intermittently refill his pool.

Today, there was no chance of a beach day, as we were on day three of near-constant rain, vacillating between a breezy drizzle and a downpour. After returning home from walking the older boys to school, we wrung ourselves out and did a suncatcher activity I had brought with us from Denver.

More importantly, we made hot cocoa and I taught Kenyon how to do a Tim Tam Slam. Oh, glorious day! I never buy prepackaged cookies in the States--I prefer to bake my own, but Tim Tams are delicious (called 'biscuits' here, which makes them seem healthier, ha!) and I have been buying them far too frequently.

The Tim Tam Slam is extra delicious, and can be done with any hot beverage. Here, Kenyon demonstrates his Tim Tam Slam technique using hot cocoa...

SO melty deliciously chocolatey GOOD.

**Note to Americans: Tim Tams are sold in the States at some Target stores under the Pepperidge Farm brand, and also at Cost Plus World Market marketed as Arnott's Original.

And to my friends in Colorado--with the supposed massive snow storm approaching, get thee to a Target or Cost Plus and stock up your provisions so you are well-equipped with some Tim Tam Slam supplies to ride out the storm!

School Growing Pains

2012-02-02T05:18:00.000-07:00

The best piece of advice I've received about this whole exchange experience so far has been the fact that just because Americans speak the same language as Australians, the fact remains that the cultures are very different.

Up until now, it hasn't seemed all that different. All four of the grocery cart wheels swivel, which makes it more difficult to control, and it's impossible to tell whether you're buying heavy cream or sour cream because they call it different names, and tomato sauce is ketchup...or the other way around. Anyway, minor things that have made this a little adventure. But school started on Monday, and it is so...different. And I'm having a hard time with it.

Now, I know it is unfair to compare any school with The Odyssey School, the amazing and beloved charter school that my older boys attend back home. The dedicated, groundbreaking teachers coupled with the supportive staff and community doesn't happen everywhere--this school exudes warmth and light, and my children and I had the privilege of soaking in it each day for three and a half years. To go from that to anything would be hard, and again, I know it rationally...but it doesn't make it any easier when I feel it.

In New South Wales (and perhaps in Australia as a whole?), schools only open one day before students begin. We dutifully showed up the Friday before school started to register the boys, and waited as the secretary thumbed through her 176 (true!) unread emails in an unsuccessful attempt to find the email I had sent from back home with our temporary resident visa information and application. After first being told that the boys couldn't start school yet, a couple of phone calls later we were told to go ahead and show up. Other parents were there registering their children, and I couldn't help wonder why the school didn't use a couple of extra days to get their work in order before school started. But then I chided myself; clearly they were used to this system and it works fine. Just because we do it that way in America doesn't mean everyone should.

The kids and I were in great spirits the first day of school; the boys excitedly put on their uniforms. I have always wanted to be able to walk the boys to school, so I was psyched as I headed out the door with my boys in their cute little uniforms, with Kenyon as their eager little mascot.

We gathered with the rest of the school under the covered outdoor area--they have a name for it but I can't quite understand what it is when they say it--and waited, a little unsure because we had no idea what class they would be in (or, in the case of Jackson, even what grade he'd be in).

The principal addressed the school and first pointed out that a) he had no idea where his microphone ran off to during the holiday, so he'd be speaking without it, b) that the first few days would be stressful and chaotic as things got sorted out, and c) that there was a new demountable (portable classroom) but they couldn't find the key to it yet. Um....I couldn't help thinking again that an extra planning day or so might have helped them sort out these things, making the first day a bit more organized and and run more smoothly. This school has large numbers of new families at the start of each year, so I know my family couldn't be the only one feeling lost and confused.

The kids were then separated into two large groups where someone began reading names of each student off a list to further separate them into classrooms. Of course, because we had just come in on Friday (and the secretary had 176 emails to get through), our kids hadn't been designated a classroom and waited with the other new kids until everyone else had gone before being assigned. Not a great way to welcome the new students, but I saw Jackson chatting with a boy animatedly and comparing each other's watches, so he seemed to be doing just fine. When two staffmembers began deciding where to put Jackson, I explained to them how Jackson had finished half of third grade back home, and what his teacher back home thought, and how his birthday falls on the cusp between being in third grade or fourth grade here...at least, I tried to convey this information but was brusquely told by a man that he'd handle it. Ah. Ok. I just thought that would be helpful.

**On a side note, it is now Thursday evening, and I still don't know whether Jackson has been placed in third or fourth grade (he's in a 3/4 composite class), whether they plan on assessing him and then deciding...there hasn't been any communication with me. I have heard that parents aren't as involved in school matters here, so maybe it's just something they take care of and don't pass it along?**

I made sure both boys were successfully placed into a class and then headed to the canteen, where they were firing up the espresso machine to make coffees for the parents. An espresso machine at the school? Score one for Wollongong Public School!

Jackson has been jazzed about school and immediately made friends. He has a cute, young teacher that he says is nice but he said she often tells the class 'SSSSHHHHHHH' very loudly and that his teacher back home would never do that. He signed himself up for and competed in all 5 events in the swimming carnival; I admire him for jumping right in and having the confidence to put himself out there like that.

Alex, my little Al Pal, is having a rough time. He doesn't talk to anyone, no one talks to him, and he says they don't really do anything in class. He always hangs back a bit with new things, but usually that's where he is comfortable so he's happy and then dives in when he's ready. But he's not comfortable right now; he expresses dislike for school. I assured him that the first few days were going to be settling in, but I have to admit that the dowdy, middle-aged woman teacher he was assigned to didn't look particularly caring or welcoming. The bright spot of his day is that he and Jackson have their hour-long recess together, so they are able to play together along with Jackson's new friends.

There is no email communication with teachers here--honestly, in a lot of ways, it reminds me of what education was like 25 years ago when I was in elementary school. That is fine--I'm at school anyway, so I checked in with Alex's teacher in person this morning about school supplies (Jackson had brought home a list but I hadn't seen one from Alex), and I also told her that Alex was having a hard time getting used to school and making friends, that we were new in the country...she interrupted me and coldly said that a lot of her students are new, and new to the country as well.

Um...well, all the more reason that it might be nice to do some get-to-know-you, icebreaker-type exercises? A little rapport-building isn't a bad idea...but instead of a reassuring 'Oh, I'll make sure to have so-and-so look after him' (which is exactly how Jackson made his first friend), or saying that she had plans to do some introductions, or ANYTHING kind, that was it. Discussion over. My hopes of setting up a pen pal exchange between Alex's class back home at Odyssey and this class dissipated in a dowdy cloud of smoke right then and there.

Do Americans baby their kids or something? Should a 7-year old that is new to a country not expect to have a little help getting integrated into a classroom? Please tell me if I'm being a wimp. I can't tell if it's part of Australian culture to just tough it out and suck it up, and learn to adapt (which I'll admit can be a good trait), or if I shouldn't generalize about a whole culture from one dowdy, grumpy woman. But I am terribly bummed that this one grumpy woman is going to be in charge of my sensitive son's educational experience for the year, especially when he's coming off of having a year and a half with his teacher back home, the incredibly warm teacher with high standards but who has the ability to see the best in each child and stretch their thinking in wonderful ways.

When I picked Alex up this afternoon, he said the day went better than yesterday. I asked why, and happily waited to hear how he made a new friend or learned something cool, but he only told me that he colored a dinosaur and pasted it on a piece of paper. Shortly thereafter, in incredibly poor timing for my fragile state, I read that his class back in Denver had gone on an outing to the nature preserve and had conversations about how and why animals migrate, hibernate, etc. They watched as a peregrine falcon hunted its prey. Sigh.

I hear you, my Al Pal--I don't like this school much either so far. A bath, a cup of hot cocoa, and homemade potato, cheese and leek soup to warm me up from the two days of rain (and 2.5 hours standing in it while timing races at the swimming carnival) offered some perspective. We're only here for a year, so we (currently, Alex and I) need to focus on all the millions of wonderful benefits of being here, and be more patient with the hard things. I am hoping Alex is able to find his niche at school, and if for some reason he doesn't I hope it won't taint his experience with all the other truly awesome things about this year.

one of the amazing benefits--seeing cockatoos right up in the trees on the walk to school!

But for now, after these first 4 days of school? Odyssey teachers, staff, and community, you are deeply missed.

A Borrowed Country's Celebration

2012-01-30T03:51:00.001-07:00

I truly appreciate the good things that my home country has to offer--I go camping to marvel at its natural beauty, This American Life is my favorite radio show, I can make (and eat) a mean apple pie, and heck, I even know all the verses to This Land is Your Land (and sing it to my children!). I fully acknowledge that the good outweighs the frustration, embarrassment and sheer ridiculousness that comes with the territory (a long list, but everything about Walmart, including the People of Walmart, and The Creation Museum, are the first two off the top of my head).

And although I am particularly fond of the state where I live, I'm still not all that interested in waving a big American flag around; in fact, it is difficult for me to think of a worse article of clothing than a button-down shirt splattered with stars and stripes. In my eyes, the American flag should be flown but not worn.

All of this was rolling around in my brain as we set out early in the morning to celebrate Australia Day, which celebrates the first fleet of British ships' arrival on the continent. I didn't have much time to think about the historical significance of the day, however, because I was walking with Jackson, who was headed for the Harbour, armed with goggles.

I had planned on participating in the Aquathon, but between preparing ourselves and our home for this year's travels and the road trip we took when we first got here, I had to face the fact that I simply was in no shape to compete. Luckily, I'm the mother of a hearty 8 year old that was game for competing despite the fact that he had no time to train, either. He has done something like this once before, and even though this swim would be 3 times longer (150m) and the run would be more than 4 times longer (2k), he was undeterred.

I felt like I was going to throw up from nervousness for him once I saw the swim out in the harbour, but I was also busy being proud of myself for keeping my tears in check for once.
A mere year and a half ago he wasn't self-conscious about how he looked, but he has now reached the age where he didn't want me taking pictures of him in his swim cap.

We all watched him until the yellow swim caps were indistinguishable from one another, and around the first turn I saw a small but growing number of stragglers whose forward motion was not so strong and figured he was in that bunch. We had swam this distance in the saltwater pool, but holding onto the sides and taking a few breaths between each lap is not the same as being in the open water with a gaggle of other kids splashing around you.

I was so thrilled when I saw his familiar stroke and black goggles approaching the shore earlier than I had expected, and tears spring to my eyes when I saw his huge grin. He looked like he was having a ball.

Swim Stats: 7:51. He placed 29th out of 49 in his Category of Under 10 Boys.

He set out on the run, and by the time we saw him again crossing the finish line, he still had that same grin on his face.

Run Stats: 9:15, placing 22nd out of 49 in his Category of Under 10 Boys.

Not amazing times, but they are solid and what I'm most proud of is his willingness to compete despite the lack of opportunity to train, and the great attitude and fun he had while doing it. Later, Jackson would describe the highlight of his experience to his grandparents as being the free fruit he got at the end of the race, illuminating what he clearly sees as impoverished eating conditions in our daily life despite the continual intake of food, especially fruit. Gotta have something to give them to talk about with their future therapist, right?

There was plenty of merriment to be had at the rest of the Australia Day festival; I honestly found myself wishing I had some Aussie paraphernalia to adorn our family with--their flag looks cooler than ours, and it would be nice to have some things to take back home with us when this whole dream ends next December.

Although I didn't end up buying Aussie merchandise, we still found plenty of ways to spend our hard-earned American dollars to celebrate the fine country of Australia at the carnival that was set up a block from our condo.

We also spent a mind-boggling $15 for the three boys to spend 5 minutes in a bouncy castle. Yay Australia!

While the rest of my family enjoyed ice cream, I did not--a shocker for anyone who knows me. I'm not one to turn down an offer for ice cream, but on this day of celebrating my temporary country, I only had eyes for...

freshly squeezed sugarcane juice, with a little lemon and lime tossed in for good measure.

I could live on this stuff; it was more delicious than I imagined it would be. I watched in awe as the skilled juicing master fed huge stalks of sugarcane through a machine that extracted the juice. Sorry Vita-Mix, you're playing second fiddle to me now because I want one of these babies! Never mind that it would take up most of my kitchen, who needs a refrigerator when you have sugar cane?? I looked online and it seems as though there's a business operated out of Hollywood (of course!) that offers cane juice as part of a master cleanse detox-type diet. Ha! Healthy? Who knows. Thirst-quenching, sweet and delicious? Definitely!

After dinner that evening, we celebrated with the quintessential Australia dessert, the lamington. Aside from the fact that it sounds more like a town than a sweet treat, it's pretty good--a square sponge cake dipped in chocolate and rolled in finely shredded coconut.

And yes, you guessed the reason for the absence of a third child's photo correctly if you figured Kenyon finished his before my shutter went 'click'.

A mere 26 days after the New Year's hubub and fireworks, Australians muster up the energy to do it all over again. We watched the fireworks show from our balcony.

Australia, I like you. We have so many reasons to celebrate right now but I'm more than happy to take a day and celebrate you and this year we get to spend together.

Wordless Wednesday--Beach Snapshots Through the Eyes of Instagram

2012-01-25T03:37:00.000-07:00

Road Trip Stats and Moments

2012-01-23T05:42:00.002-07:00

1,912: the number of kilometers that we put on our trusty 1995 Toyota Tarago, Ferdinand. No problems at all, except for the fact that the new battery Sam installed was a little loose, so 80% of the time Sam had to open the hood and give it a little jiggle before the car started. Now that we're home, a wrench will fix that problem in no time.

I'm no birdwatcher, but the birds we've seen are amazing! It reminds me of Miami right after Hurricane Andrew, when the exotic birds got loose from Parrot Jungle and could be spotted throughout the city.

1: number of times we had to pull over for a carsick child (Alex). They all now have concrete evidence that tempting as it may be, it is not a good idea to read a book while their parents drive on curvy roads.

taking a moment to recuperate from carsickness before getting back on the road

it feels good to treat yourself while traveling, and Saxby's ginger beer is something we all enjoyed

5: the number of packages of Tim Tams we bought along the way. Dark chocolate is the best!

Every time he picks me flowers, he says, "Here you go Mama, you can keep these forever." I will, in my heart.

6: the number of times Sam put his windshield wipers on instead of his turn signal. Darn Australia and everything in the car being reversed!

7: the number of times we broke down the campsite, which was always more annoying than the 7 times we set up the campsite. Two of them went smoothly and were enjoyable. The rest--picture lots of crying and arguing. The kids didn't do so hot, either. Just kidding--Sam and I actually never fought during this whole trip, which is a miracle considering the stress. It was a learning experience for the boys, and the smiles of pride on their faces during the last tent breakdown will hopefully carry over to the next time we do this.

We were all cold some nights...Sam even broke down and bought himself the flannel sleeping bag he had been dreaming about mid-trip. When I was cold, I'd curl up next to my own personal heater--3-year old Kenyon, who sleeps in the nude and without blankets. I don't know what's with this kid's basal body temperature, but I'll bet he's wishing we did a teacher exchange in the Arctic.

The CD Sam impulse-bought at a gas station somewhere in Victoria. I scoffed, but it actually does contain some gems. Who knew I would still remember every word to Mr. Big's 'To Be With You'?

A typical hamburger in Australia. It has the usual lettuce and tomato, and cheese--but packed in there you've also got onions, beetroot, pineapple bacon, and barbecue. A taste explosion, and so big Alex can't even get his mouth around one.

there's a koala far up in the tree above us!

An unexpected surprise is the fact that some of the best highlights of the trip were ones we learned about by chatting with other people as we traveled, like the koalas at Raymond Island.

Alex said the Yarrangobilly Caves were his favorite part of the whole trip

our first swamp wallaby sighting, at Mimosa Rocks National Park

a stop at a rural primary school playground to burn off energy is as good for Sam as it is for the kids

Alex showing off his must-have possum doll that goes with his book by Mem Fox, Possum Magic

Road trips are almost never completely smooth; add three kids to the mix and you've got a ton of unpredictability. Sam and Inaturally pitched in with washing up the dishes and broke up the campsite setups and breakdowns without officially assigning duties. If he saw I was getting a little punchy he knew to start brewing some coffee, which usually took care of my grumpiness.

I honestly don't think a family road trip could have gone any better, and I'm so glad we made this effort to see things that we can't see back in the States. I am so grateful that Garry and Johanna undertook this exchange with us!

Kosciuszko National Park--and the final push HOME!

2012-01-23T04:58:00.000-07:00

We continued our northeasterly inward trek to Kosciuszko National Park, home of Australia's highest mountain (Mt. Kosciuszko). Living in Colorado makes a person a bit snobbish about mountains, so this mountain is somewhat laughable--at 7,310 feet, it is approximately the same elevation as Colorado's town of Estes Park. Still, it was beautiful winding our way through the hills and over dams to reach our no-cost (again, score!) campsite at Three Mile Dam.

After a stormy night, we packed up our campsite for the last time on this trip (hurray!). The older boys have now become tent masters, finally by the last day able to break down their tent in record time without even a hint of arguing (not the case in the previous tries, and Jackson has a scratch by his eye to prove it).

We had chosen this campsite for its proximity to the Yarrangobilly Caves, so we headed there in the morning on our way out of town. A brief but steep downhill hike led us to thermal pools, which was a welcome break and a great way to get us all a bit cleaner after the days of camping. I had been weary of looking at my grubby kids and knowing I looked the same.

The pool stays warm year-round due to water seeping through porous rocks down 800m below the Earth's surface, where it is heated and forced back up as a warm spring. The water wasn't warm per se, but it was pleasant and refreshing on a hot day.

Sam upstaging Alex

Sam defying gravity as Alex cannonballs

Then it was time to head to the cave. The walk there was beautiful in itself.

the aptly-named Glory Hole

We did the self-guided tour, and it was awesome to explore the wondrous sights beneath the Earth's surface with my family.

As we emerged from the darkness, Alex said it was the coolest experience he's ever had in nature.

Then we were off in the car, all anxious to sleep in our own beds that night. Between hearty naps for the boys and listening to some audio books, the drive was less than torturous. The New South Wales park office worker that I had spoken with a couple of weeks before had told me about Robertson Pie Shop, a landmark in Robertson, NSW that we would pass on the way home. I had told the boys about it, and Kenyon asked approximately 5,782 times when we would have pie, was it time for pie, what sort of pie would we be getting, was this the town for pie...you get the picture.

We rolled into Robertson at 6pm, the perfect time to pick up some takeaway savory pies as well as sweet pies.

Sam, Jackson, and Kenyon chose cherry, Alex chose apple, and I chose apple with wildberry...all had fresh whipped cream inside. It was a great feeling to walk back into our condo and celebrate with a sweet reward for the previous couple of week's effort.

It was a long, good trip, chock full of sights, experiences, and challenges...now we're all ready to have some downtime and recharge before school starts on January 30.

Warby-Ovens National Park--Bush Camping

2012-01-21T18:25:00.002-07:00

Phillip Island was the furthest point in our trip before it was time to head home. Because we took the coastal route down, we wanted to take the inland route home. Not only was it more direct, but we also wanted to see as much as we could of Victoria as we could before heading back to New South Wales. After leaving Phillip Island we drove about 4 hours inland and set up camp at the no-cost (score!) Wenhams campground in Warby Ovens National Park.

I use the term 'campground' loosely--while there was a pit toilet, picnic tables, and barbecue pit, it seemed very isolated. The area was just deemed a national park in 2009 and didn't appear to be used very often.

the boys prepping a fire

stick collector extraordinaire

Kenyon wanted to see if kangaroo poop burned well (note: it did!).

Kenyon holding his prized fuel, kangaroo poop

Sam is always down for getting in touch with his faux-Native American (or in this case, Aboriginal) roots; he was in his element here. I, on the other hand, am learning more and more that I get energy from being around others. I didn't mind the rustic nature of the campsite, but I would have preferred to have a few more people around. It was certainly a contrast between the social vibe of the caravan park and the stark emptiness of this land.

As dusk neared, we did have a few visitors....

I had also read that this area is home to the endangered Turquoise Parrot. Soon after we arrived, we spotted a few flying from one tree to another. I'm not particularly interested in birds, but these were gorgeous.

There was no water here; we had stopped to fill our large water container at a well water area used for livestock, so I boiled many pots of water along with cooking dinner. Sam and I differed on how long to boil it; he said 30 minutes and I said 5. I boiled it for 5 and crossed my fingers that none of us would contract some horrible water-borne bacteria.

kangaroo burgers and salad for dinner

For the first time on our trip, we sat by the campfire and made s'mores. They don't seem to sell graham crackers in this country, so we brought out the closest approximation along with Cadbury's Dark Bubbly chocolate bar and happily roasted marshmallows.

Alex perfecting his slow roast method with my s'more in the foreground

Nighttime brought out a spectacular display of stars. I don't feel very far away from home here, but when I look up at the sky and see the Orion constellation upside down, it suddenly puts into perspective that we really are on the whole opposite side of the earth. We had a wonderful evening looking at the stars, pointing out constellations and satellites, and talking about how there's so much we don't yet know about space and the likelihood of extraterrestrial life. Alex declared that he wanted to be an 'astromoner'.

After such an enjoyable time as a family and staying up until 10pm, you'd think we all would have slept great in our tent without a rain fly so the stars were visible. Everyone fell asleep, and the isolation really got to me. I wasn't afraid of animals, but I couldn't shake the idea of some crazy person coming in the middle of the night and hurting us. I've had this feeling before, back before I had kids and I slept in the cabins up at Sam's dad's property in northern California all by myself for the first time while Sam was in San Francisco.

The hours passed and I lay there awake, listening for the sound of a car engine or the crackling of twigs. I knew where our car keys were, and calculated how difficult it would be to grab everyone and run into the car when the crazy person appeared.

Just by typing this out, it is abundantly clear who the crazy person is.

At some point, I took my phone out of the tent pocket to see how much more of this nightmarish torture I had left to endure and realized I had cell phone service. Now, I have not had cell phone service for the vast majority of this trip--apparently, the company I randomly chose upon arrival here, Vodafone, has terrible range. And here I was, in the middle of nowhere, miraculously with a connection to the outside world. Thank you, universe, for providing. Technology is a wondrous thing; I laid in a tent in the middle of the night in rural Australia with sleeping Kenyon's hand draped across my chest and typed real-time conversations back and forth with a friend and my mom. I felt much better after that, and went on to get a few hours' sleep.

In the morning, Sam took a brief walk down a trail and sat down on a log to write his father a letter. He heard a grunting and looked up to see a large goanna swiftly making its way down the tree right above him.

He shouted some expletives, and the goanna stopped in its tracks and stayed there for 20 minutes.

can you see him up there, where the branch juts out?

I persuaded Sam to break the 'stay two nights at every campsite' rule again for the second time this trip. There wasn't a whole lot to do there, and after such a rough night I was really starting to lose my patience with the whole camping thing. He felt like his Warby-Ovens camping experience was complete after his goanna encounter (thank you, goanna!).

Phillip Island

2012-01-21T05:43:00.000-07:00

We left Wilsons Prom, my heart full of wombats, and drove over to Phillip Island. On the way there, we stopped and saw the pelican feeding at the shore. I have never been up close and personal with pelicans before; they are really strange-looking creatures.

They almost look like a caricature of a real bird; their eyes look more craftsman-made plastic than real.

The pelicans know to come at this time to be fed, and they are counted by the volunteer (who feeds them flatheads) so the population can be monitored. We learned that because of the fins and the fact they are swallowed whole, pelicans can only swallow a fish head-down. If a fish is caught tail-down, the pelican walks away, almost looking like an old man muttering to himself, as he works the fish around so it's facing the right direction.

demonstrating tossing a fish tail-first

fish is inside but he knows he needs to turn it around

got it!

There is no real camping on Phillip Island; we stayed at Cowes Caravan Park which ended up working out great because there were tons of kids. Jackson met Rylea and they were fast friends, riding bikes and hanging out. I spent a lovely evening with Rylea's mom and a friend, drinking tea and chatting. As we left the park, Jackson said that meeting Rylea was his favorite experience so far on the trip.

Jackson and Rylea

As I cooked dinner in the common kitchen area one evening, I saw a small group of girls all with blonde hair walk by. As they passed Jackson, who was sitting on a railing, they asked his name. "Jackson", he said, "but you can call me Jack". Oh, really? I've never heard him say that before. The girls were all very giggly, and Rylea later told Jackson that the girls liked his American accent. Jackson humbly said, "I know." It will be very interesting once school starts...

Since we were already feeling touristy, we visited MARU Wildlife Park for a chance to feed kangaroos.

Sam communing with nature

Kenyon feeding an albino kangaroo

One kangaroo had a joey in her pouch. Sam commented that having a baby in there looked heavy and uncomfortable, like her stomach was very stretched. Um....(pause while every woman who has ever experienced the last 4 weeks of pregnancy rolls her eyes)...ya think?? I silently gave an 'I know how you feel, lady' look her way.

Jackson said that she needed the most food and reached out with another handful. He'll make a good husband one day.

if you look closely you can see the joey nursing

Who could pass up an opportunity to pet a koala? Koalas are supposedly nocturnal, but the reality is they sleep 20 hours a day, so they're basically 'nonurnal'. This koala was sleeping on a eucalyptus branch and would occasionally yawn or scratch itself in between pictures; this is the only way I could tell that it was real and not a stuffed animal wedged between a couple of branches.

We saw other cool animals at this park; it is of course much more exciting and interesting to see an animal in the wild (like my wombat, or Sam's echidna)--but it was still neat to glimpse these creatures that we don't get to see in the States...

dingoes

emus

ok, we've all seen parrots but this one was saying 'hello' with an Australian accent!

Tasmanian devil--see how his ears glow red in the sun? You can also see his fangs.

I have been blathering on and on about various animals, but the whole reason we went to Phillip Island was for the fairy penguins! At sundown, we watched as hundreds of 16-inch tall fairy penguins seemingly magically washed up on the shore with the surf in groups and waddled their way up the beach to their burrows in the dunes. We were supposed to be quiet so as to not interfere with their ritual, so I did my best to hold back squeals of "Oh my gosh--soooooooo cute!".

photo credit: Tourism Victoria

We were not allowed to take pictures of our own, but it's something I'll always remember, and I'm glad we made it as far as Phillip Island on our one big trip down south.

Wilsons Prom

2012-01-18T15:49:00.000-07:00

kangaroos and koalas and wombats, oh my!

Our night in the forgettable teeny town of Foster was worth it, because we arrived at Wilsons Promontory National Park ('the Prom') by 9am on Sunday and were able to get a campsite. On the drive in, we saw this fun road sign…the stout little creatures on the bottom of that sign are wombats. I was SO excited at the prospect of glimpsing these little ones! We saw a couple of kangaroos, but my eyes were peeled for wombats (I didn’t know this at the time, but they are nocturnal).

And, those wacky Australians did it again with naming things. I’m not making this up—as we passed a creek, we saw a sign that said ‘Poop Fellon Me Creek’. Not kidding; I can only imagine the scenario that led to the naming of this little body of water.

The campground is chock full of kids, and they all seem to have a plastic cricket set. Three games at once were going on in the playground area, and our boys joined in, learning the rules as they played.

The Prom is beautiful—mountains, ocean, and river all blend into one at the Tidal River campground. As you’d guess from the name, the river changes depending on the tide, so at low tide it’s virtually a dry bed with water along the edge, and at high tide it’s a completely filled in river.

the beautiful path leading to the river

It all meets the ocean, which is also lovely to spend time at.

The broad expanse of gentle waves washing up on the shore was the perfect place to practice skimboarding.

This whole day by the water was enjoyable, but I was basically tapping my fingers and humming and patiently waiting for dusk, when the wombats supposedly emerge. All over the place you can see wombat nests, little hollows dug out in the brush.

We all went on a nature walk at dusk, but alas, no wombats. When the kids were tucked into their sleeping bags, Sam and I went back out—and were handsomely rewarded with the most fuzzy cuteness marsupial ever.

I’m in love; with a nice man’s super-strong flashlight illuminating the adorable little animal, I was able to creep closer and closer and ended up on my belly taking a nice close-up picture as it munched happily on grass.

I resisted the overwhelming urge to snuggle it.

There was a perfect stuffed animal version of a wombat at the visitor center gift shop, and it was a grim realization of full adulthood to know it would be ridiculous to purchase a stuffed animal for myself. I settled for a wombat-themed dish towel, and I may or may not be seen snuggling it in my kitchen in the near future.

Bairnsdale Motel Bliss...and KOALAS!

2012-01-15T15:00:00.004-07:00

A night in a hotel sounded especially luxurious after 5 nights in a tent. All of our clothes had been worn, reworn, and smelled like campfire. We pulled into the first motel, a Comfort Inn, in Bairnsdale, Victoria. I hate to be snobby, but motels are usually a little on the downtrodden end of things. As the man brought the rollaway bed across the parking lot to our room, we caught a glimpse of the shabby, darkly stained carpeting and immediately nixed that place. I didn’t even notice if they had the Yucky Hotel Blanket, but I’d place my money on a Yes.

Money refunded, I did some quick internet research (thank you, iPhone and Tripadvisor!) and found the Bairnsdale Motel. Yes, a motel, but a lovely little boutique motel run by a delightful man named Bernie. The $30 higher price than the Comfort Inn was worth it in spades simply for his kindness, but the lovely room with a giant corner jetted tub was a sight to behold. I asked Bernie if there was a laundromat in town and he told me there was a washer and a dryer right. in. the. room. I almost wept with gratitude as he handed over a complimentary baggie of detergent; if I have another child, I will surely name him (because of course, it would be a boy) Bernie after this man. If you ever find yourself in Bairnsdale, Victoria, please stay at the Bairnsdale Motel.

You’d think the kids had never been in a hotel room before; they went a little bonkers (culminating in Kenyon severely bashing his shins on the bed in a bounce gone wrong, just after I had put the kibosh on the bed bouncing). Luckily, there were no major injuries and we all delighted in having freshly cleaned bodies, shampooed and conditioned hair, and a night’s sleep without having to set up a tent.

On the way out of town the next morning (after choosing a few gems from the used bookstore and splurging on an audio book for the kids for our own sanity), we took a quick detour to Paynesville and hopped on the Raymond Island Ferry (just when I was thinking that Bernie could not get any nicer, he told us about this destination as we checked out). Raymond Island boasts a lovely nature reserve, and right there in people’s quaint front yards, NOT KIDDING, right up in the gum trees, are fluffy, snuggable, real live koalas.

the obligatory tourist photo...

the real thing!

FOR REAL. A beautiful nature reserve on the ocean with cute houses that come with their own resident fluffy koala? Put my house on the market right now; I’m moving to Raymond Island.

I’ll admit that koalas are not the most action-packed creatures; the most rigorous activity we saw muster up the energy to do was yawn and look at us, unimpressed, from his perch in the tree.

The rest slept.

But still—CUTE OVERLOAD.

We also saw cockatoos and parrots, and there are kangaroos and swamp wallabies as well but we didn’t see them during our brief look around the island.

That animal experience was the highlight of my day, but for Sam it was the echidna he spotted ambling down the side of the highway.

He honestly, and I’m not making this up, exclaimed, “An echidna! I’m not kiddin’ ya!” as he gleefully pulled over and hopped out to get a closer look with the camera.

The elusive wombat is the animal I most want to see; I fell in love the first time I read the witty kids’ book, Diary of a Wombat. As Sam drives, I look out and imagine wombats gingerly frolicking over the grassy plains, or peeking out from a cluster of gum trees. We saw one dead on the side of the road, but I’m just going to pretend I didn’t see it because that doesn’t count at all. A nice lady we met at Mimosa Rocks National Park said she’d only seen one or two her whole life, so I’m not counting on seeing one outside of a zoo but I’d sure like to.

A good chance is coming up shortly, as we are currently spending the night in Foster, Victoria, which is right on the edge of Wilsons Promontory National Park. Normally bookings are made months in advance for camping during this time, but a couple of spots are reserved for international visitors (hey, that's us!). We're heading out bright and early in the morning to hopefully snag a spot in the park for a couple of nights. We could see a whole host of animals there, including kangaroos, wombats(!), echidnas, emus, and a number of small marsupials.

Here's hoping we get a spot; I'll write again whenever I next have internet access.

Croajingolong National Park

2012-01-14T03:32:00.001-07:00

Back in the States over the course of the past year that we've been preparing for this trip, we probably checked out every book the Denver Public Library system has to offer about Australia. Kids' books about the animals, culture, and geography helped the boys wrap their brain around where we would be going, and I read tons of travel books, blogs, and articles about budget travel, national parks, and can't-miss destinations. One of the books Sam brought home was a 30-year old coffee table book on Australia's national parks. For Sam, Croajingolong National Park in Victoria seemed particularly interesting because of the nature and wildlife (we have since learned that it was deemed a World Biosphere Reserve).

Part of what makes road trips fun is ~~children arguing and playing slap and tickle~~ stopping at interesting places on the way to the main destination. I see all kinds of art galleries and local shops that I'd love to check out but with the kids it would be cumbersome and simply take too much time. That being said, the Eden Killer Whale Museum was a no-brainer; we stopped and had a look.

Jackson reading about Old Tom, a killer whale that worked with whaling ships to bring in baleen whales

the whaling boats are teeny compared to the size of the whale!

It's easy to look out from the quaint little seaside town of Eden and imagine its former incarnation as a whaling hub. The museum was great and made me want to reread Moby Dick and In the Heart of the Sea.

We then arrived at Croajingolong National Park and got a decent spot right across from the campsite hosts, who were two fantastic young guys who immediately invited our boys over for a game of soccer (they had been playing cricket but switched over to something the boys would be familiar with). This game would be the highlight of Jackson's stay here; he lives for experiences like this.

The weather wasn't great--overcast and a little chilly, so we took a short hike through a beautiful path to the beach instead of heading to the river for a swim.

The beach was gorgeous, but incredibly windy and desolate.

On our walk back, a fellow camper pulled us over to her campsite, where this guy had been hanging out for a couple of hours...

Australian water dragon

We woke up the next morning to more grey skies, and I was feeling a little ready to move on. It's an ordeal to unpack the tent/mattresses/bedding/table/chairs/coolers and set up shop, so staying two nights usually makes the most sense. But did you happen to catch that really interesting Freakonomics show on NPR a few months back, The Upside of Quitting? That was in my mind as I explained my theory to Sam that given another bad weather day, we should cut our losses and head out early. We needed to cover a fair amount of ground the next day to make it remotely possible to snag a first-come first-served campsite usually booked months in advance at our next destination, and this would cut the drive in half. And besides, these days of camping without showers coupled with the lack of swimming because of chilly weather? It all made for four smelly boys. I, of course, did not smell but you won't see any pictures of me because I was looking very rough.

Two Librans don't make decisive decisions all that easily, but when one is an attorney decision do tend to go one way more often. :) We decided it would be best to head out early, so we packed up camp in record time so we could still make the hike to the Point Hicks lighthouse tour as planned before heading out.

Sam and I didn't miss our calling as lighthouse keepers. Ascending the 162 steps to the top was fine, as long as I willed myself not took down.

Just watching the kids look down made my stomach queasy.

Sam said he felt horrible. :) The top, though, was a beautiful view (again, looking out was fine and I just never looked straight down).

And then we were on the road again. It is endless entertainment reading maps and road signs; the names Australians have come up with are nearly always giggle-inducing. A road called Bunga Pinch?? Sam said he's had that happen to him before and it was very painful. Ha!

Mimosa Rocks National Park

2012-01-13T04:44:00.000-07:00

Our loose itinerary is both a blessing and a curse—it leaves us open to see what we want after talking to people and learning more, but during this heavily-traveled school holiday, the most amazing places of course have usually been booked for at least four months. Our first try for a new spot, Murramurrang National Park, didn’t have room for us, but luckily it’s within a weekend road trip distance because our brief glimpse of the park looked awesome.

We pressed on, covering more ground than we had originally planned, and scored the last campsite at first-come, first-serve Mimosa Rocks National Park. This is what locals call ‘bush camping’—real camping, albeit car camping.

A firepit and access to a pit toilet is all as far as facilities go, but what beautiful surroundings—it feels like we’re in Jurassic Park…especially when one of these came meandering lazily down the path right into a campsite.

Lexie--this one's for you!

My niece Lexie wanted me to take a picture of a big lizard, so I was so excited to see this goanna. They are huge!

Just a short time later, we spotted a little swamp wallaby. Honestly, could the name ‘wallaby’ be any cuter? A real live wallaby! And we weren’t holding zoo admission tickets in our hands or anything! It’s amazing that this whole continent exists where these really cool creatures are just running (and hopping) around; it’s like living on a whole other planet.

(A whole other planet, on a side note, that has really expensive beer—I stopped by the liquor store to buy some, and a 6-pack is $23! I left with 2 beers ($4 each), and told Sam he better drink his entire beer, because this stuff really is liquid gold down here.)

We took the short path to the beach, but outside of the protected area of our campsite, it was quite windy and cold.

The first night, as Sam and I were settling in for bed, Sam heard something outside. He ventured out for a look and came back to inform me that he had seen ‘something up in the tree with a fluffy tail’. I grabbed the camera and followed him out.

the camouflaged 'something'

The ‘something’ was not scared of my flash and started swiftly making its way down the tree towards us. I took one more picture before making some swift motions of my own, back inside the safety of the tent.

It was some breed of possum; I’m all for nature and everything but I was suddenly eternally grateful for our nicely zipped-up tent and rainfly. You can be into nature but enjoy a millimeter or two of distance between it, right?

Through the night, we continued to hear a ton of activity right outside our tent, including the heavy thump-thump-thump thump-thumping of a wallaby. I'll take that any day, especially over the rats that the campsite manager said tend to be present along with the possums and other creatures.

Jackson, fashionable even while sleeping, with his Quiksilver hat

I have been managing our campsite dinners fairly well; we’ve had a big salad with grilled chicken pieces, steak sandwiches with grilled onions, avocado and cheese…ok, Ramen noodles one night, but they can’t all be gems! Tonight we had chicken sausages with grilled onions and cheese, and Sam recalled a camp classic from his Boy Scout camp days—campfire baked potatoes. Between the fact that it has been a mere 34 years since his camp days and the fact that he tends to be an overbuilder, he stuck those tinfoil-wrapped potatoes as deep as he possibly could into that fire and let them bake for a solid hour. I gave him a couple of gentle reminders about checking the potatoes, but you clearly don’t tell a former Boy Scout how to cook campfire baked potatoes.

And from the looks of these culinary delights (below), I’ll venture a bet that he did not earn his campfire cooking badge...

the proud chef with his charred potatoes

pretty gum tree bark

On our way back to the campsite the next day after a journey into town for supplies, we got caught in a major rain-turned-hail storm. We were driving on unsealed roads, and the hail was getting big enough that we were concerned the windshield would crack, so we pulled under the safety of a large gum tree until the storm let up.

It was still raining when we got back to the campsite, so the boys all snuggled up and enjoyed a daytime session of Sam reading The Hobbit aloud, which has usually been reserved for the bedtime story. They love the story and Alex has especially taken to acting out various Hobbit scenarios (although it often morphs into Ewok scenarios as well).

rainy day makes for a bonus Hobbit session

Sam and I bravely stayed outside that night after the kids were in bed to see what creatures might visit us. Our old friend the possum came back, and we got a better glimpse of him.

And just a minute later, this little bandicoot came scuttling by...

These creatures are bold--they saw us sitting there and came right up to see what was going on. Luckily, my bodyguard was armed with a stick so they saw he meant business, and a swift tap of the weapon on the ground was enough to send them away when they got too close.

If all goes well, my next post will be from somewhere in Croajingolong National Park, out of New South Wales and into Victoria!

The Road Trip Begins: Jervis Bay

2012-01-10T18:06:00.003-07:00

Our trusty Toyota Tarago, Ferdinand, managed to carry the five of us and our supplies for the next two weeks as we headed out on our first Australian road trip.

Because there are so many new sights, we'll be traveling short distances. And as any parent knows, short distance road trips keep down the likelihood of enduring the trifecta of torture: Children, Close Quarters, and Complete Mayhem.

5 minutes out of town, I looked back and saw this...

Ahhhhh, family perfection.

5 minutes later, Kenyon was wailing (I attempted to capture a picture to give an accurate chronicle of our experience but it only made Kenyon angrier). One hour in the car with 3 children should not be so difficult. Sam, in his infinite wisdom, had insisted on us getting a minivan so we could split the kids between rows. We eliminated the Close Quarters factor, and the rest of the hour went more smoothly.

We're staying in the nothing much to write home about unpowered camping area of Huskisson Beach Tourist Park. We’re looking for ‘real’ camping; you know, without the playground and other amenities, but I couldn’t find any in the Jervis Bay area. But—just down a path from the campsite was this…

Not bad.

In parts, the sand was almost like quicksand, and the kids had fun pretending to be swallowed up.

It was easy to pass the day and evening here. Some guys caught a fish, called a flathead.

Jackson and I are really looking forward to catching a fish, but no luck yet. I really love just standing waist deep in the water and casting.

The really amazing thing about this campsite was the hooting and hollering of kookaburras that are just overhead. I captured them on a brief video; they sound just like monkeys.

In the morning, we headed 15 minutes down the road to Hyams Beach, which has the whitest sand in the world according to the Guinness Book of World Records. The sand was powdery soft, and next to the gorgeous water, it was absolutely beautiful.

Alex was particularly excited about visiting this beach

Sam bodysurfing

The boys tried to dig a hole to Colorado to say hello to their friends. We talk about their friends a lot; they are all very missed!

Back in the States, I had bought a LivingSocial deal for a dolphin watching cruise ($15 each instead of $35 each). Jackson said he ‘was giddy with excitement’ and practically skipped aboard.

It took a while before we actually saw any dolphins, but while we waited the kids acted like dolphins, and we enjoyed the boat ride.

And then there they were, grey bottlenose dolphins, riding right alongside the boat with us and occasionally coming out of the water.

So graceful and effortless!

Alex calls them ‘angels of the water’.

Between the boat ride and the ice cream cones, it was a memorable day.

This morning, we packed up—a major effort in itself. There’s no way we’re staying anywhere one night; it's a bit of a production. And you’d think my kids would be tent-setting pros since they go to a school where this is an integral part of the curriculum, but Jackson and Alex did not work together well breaking down their tent. Between that and Kenyon snapping back the elastic tent pole which made a huge welt on Sam’s hand, I thought it might be the early end of our road trip. We'll have a lot of practice over these next couple of weeks, so here's hoping it gets more smoothly as time goes on...

Culinary Adventure Series

2012-01-07T13:53:00.000-07:00

As we try new and interesting foods here, I'll add to this new Culinary Adventure Series. I know what you're thinking--Vegemite was not included in the Culinary Adventure Series. I don't know yet whether it's worthy of any extra recognition, but I am pleased to report that I followed everyone's kind suggestions to spread it very very thin on buttered toast, and it is palatable that way. I'm starting each day with Vegemite, so I'm building up a tolerance.

I haven't yet had time to leisurely browse the grocery store aisles yet, but on a quick trip to Woolworth (or 'Woolies', because Aussies have a knack for shortening any word, making it sound adorable) Jackson and I spotted it right there in the meat aisle--kangaroo steaks! Yep, sitting there in its plastic wrap all casual-like, as if it was just any normal steak that we Americans can buy back home.

Jackson and I eagerly bought kangaroo steaks along with our run-of-the-mill steak and devised a taste test event for the evening's dinner.

We are experiencing so many firsts here; I am certain that I've never before had the occasion to Google 'kangaroo steak marinade recipe'. Google never disappoints, and in a flash all the meat was coexisting and tenderizing nicely in a dish, awaiting its fate on the 'barbie' (see? I'm practicing!).

Kangaroo meat is produced only from free-ranging wild animals living on someone's land; no kangaroo are commercially-raised. The meat is extremely lean; it's essential not to overcook it. After just 3 minutes per side, I cut the kangaroo and ordinary steak into equal pieces and I led the guys in a blind taste test.

Can you tell the difference? Kangaroo meat is on the right.

While everyone but Kenyon correctly identified the kangaroo, it was unanimously described as delicious; not gamey at all. I look forward to many more culinary adventures to come...

Nutella, Take Me Away!

2012-01-05T03:48:00.000-07:00

****WARNING****

Anyone of Australian descent should not read this post, or be forewarned that it contains blasphemy of the worst kind

I'm on a mission to try as many new foods as possible while we're here, so food will likely be a regular theme in posts this year. Of course, no one can spend a year in Australia and not try the much-loved locally (but much dreaded for everyone else in the entire world) food item known as Vegemite, a dark brown food paste made from yeast extract. I don't know about you, but when I hear the words 'yeast extract' I don't necessarily have an immediate yearning to pop a piece of bread in a toaster and get my spread on.

But as our Australian exchange partner Garry put it, we 'have a year to form a passionate, loving relationship with Vegemite', so we woke up on our first morning here and gave it our best effort...

Ummmm...right now I can honestly say that I'm definitely feeling passionate about Vegemite. I have a passionate aversion to spreading yeast extract on my toast. There; I said it (or whispered it, because I'm a teensy bit nervous that the Australian Embassy will dispatch someone to revoke my visa straight away).

1924 Vegemite ad

Check out the marketing strategy in this ad. 'MAKES ALL OTHER FOODS GOOD'--which fleshed out further clearly means it makes other foods good because anything else tastes wonderful in comparison. Then after stating its benefits, the ad goes on to state, "It is nice, too." It smacks of desperation, like a matchmaker trying to sell the positive qualities of someone in order to fix them up but that can only come up with the fact that they're 'nice'. If the Vegemite Marketing Team can't do better than 'nice', it shows you what kind of taste we're dealing with here.

saw this online; thankfully, only a parody and not an actual product!

Here's an idea, Australia--why don't you make Nutella your national food icon? It's also brown, and it's a food spread. An easy transition. It may not be as strong in the B vitamin department, but hazelnuts have some nutritional value, no? And I have an inkling that it will be infinitely more popular for, say, Americans that are spending a year in Australia. There's already a World Nutella Day (mark your calendars for February 5th; I know I am!), so think of the amazing festivals that Australia can hold in Nutella's honor, and the potential boon for Australia's economy.

See? Brown...spreadable...it's not so big of a leap!

Maybe I will begin petitioning my local representative here; considering Vegemite's 'flavor' (and I use the term loosely because when I hear the word 'flavor' I think of something with an appealing taste) it clearly should be high on the priority list for any elected official. It's a matter of avoiding a national health crisis, really, or a national taste crisis at least. It's akin to female genital mutilation or Chinese foot binding; these poor Australians have lived too long with this torture and it shouldn't go on any longer. People will look back someday and wonder anyone would ever have thought it was a good idea, this yeast extract on toast business.

*****

Whew! Now that I've gotten all that off my chest, I am hereby announcing my commitment to having at least a quarter of a piece of toast with Vegemite each day to see if I can change this ol' palate of mine to at least some level of tolerance. Feel free to offer tips on mustering up some sort of enjoyment out of this, or simply your condolences if you think there's no hope. I'll keep you posted on my grim progress as the year goes on.

The BEACH!!

2012-01-02T04:55:00.000-07:00

We've scaled back the excitement over the past couple of days; traveling caught up with the kids and it was showing with the way they were treating each other. Yesterday was taken up by a disastrous grocery shopping trip by bus (who takes the bus to do a large shopping trip? We clearly weren't thinking by expecting so much out of the boys, but luckily three-hour naps in the afternoon set things on a more positive note).

I'll write more another time about grocery shopping with new brands and foods--today, though, was all about the beach! Even though we both adore Denver, Sam and I both grew up on opposite coasts and are water lovers at heart more so than skiers. There are two beaches in brief walking distance from our condo; as we headed out we ran into Craig, half of the awesome couple that welcomed us at their New Year's Eve party--he told us which beach to go to and walked us there, even though it was out of his way. So nice.

ummmmm....yes, please!!

Armed with beach umbrella, picnic lunch, towels, sunscreen and brand new boogie boards, we excitedly made our way across the soft sands of the beach and set up shop for the day.

The next hour was spent doing a whole lot of this...

Surf lifesaving in Australia is serious business; there are flags on the beach indicating permitted areas for swimming depending on the currents; there are a number of different riptides going at any given time, and the lifeguards can spot them from the sand.

With the lighthouse and the surf, this area reminds Sam of his favorite hometown beach, Its Beach in Santa Cruz. Miami's placid beaches are nothing like this; I enjoyed being in the water but instead of boogie boarding, my activity was Keep My Bikini Bottoms On. This surf is not meant for two-piece bathing suits; every wave meant holding on and frantic adjusting. My mental image of Sam searching the shore for bikini bottoms as I wait semi-discreetly out in the ocean was not far-fetched, but luckily (for all present today), it did not come to pass. I look forward to another beach trip with more athletic attire so I can try some body surfing and boogie boarding.

I spent much of the rest of the day doing some variation of this...

...relaxing and watching as the boys continue to develop a love and appreciation for the ocean and the beach.

wearing his beloved necklace his friend Finley gave him

I like him.

In another week, the difference in skin tone between Sam and I will qualify us as an interracial couple. He keeps getting more and more brown, while I vacillate between red and white. Jackson took this picture of us, after making me wear his other most beloved possession, a Quiksilver hat I gave him for Christmas. He said he was going to sleep in it tonight.

This older couple looked so fabulous, with her in her Baywatch swimsuit and him with his boogie board. We also saw a man well into his seventies stride out in the water with a back that looked as if it was leather; he had clearly perfected his body surfing technique over many decades and expertly rode the large waves.

A nice family next to us saw me taking billions of pictures and offered to take one of us as a family. There went my plan to blend in and not act all touristy.

I'm pretty damn sure we're going to be happy here for the year. If only we could transport everyone else we love from back home out this way, then it would really be epic.

New Year's Eve

2011-12-31T21:27:00.000-07:00

What better way to begin a year abroad than to land in your new country on New Year's Eve? I was so excited as we began our descent into Sydney; especially when the Sydney Harbor came into view...

This blog should really be called the Adventures of Annie and Her Tears, because again, I teared up a bit when I saw the Opera House. We had done all this planning, and now it was really happening!

After settling in to our condo for a couple of hours, we went to a neighbor's house to watch the fireworks display. We are two blocks from the beach, but they are just directly across from the fireworks, and it feels so good to be in a completely different place but have people as friends right away. Everyone was so welcoming, and the all the kids hit it off right away.

Leave it to a shared iTouch to bring new friends together...

We watched the Sydney fireworks on TV, and then a half hour later the Wollongong fireworks began.

I saw this...Jackson is clearly not wasting any time making new friends. :)

Kenyon tried his best, but this is what he was doing on the living room floor while the fireworks boomed...

We look forward to a quiet few days here getting to know our new home, and then we're planning on taking off for a bit of a road trip before the new school year begins at the end of January.

I hope all of you in the States are enjoying ringing in the new year--we miss everyone so much already!

Namatakula Village Homestay Travel Diary, Day Three

2011-12-31T20:22:00.002-07:00

I'll tell you one thing, my white skin is not cut out for island living. Fijians never put on sunscreen and never get burned. I'm doing as much sun protection as possible and at this point am trying to keep my skin at a second-degree burn classification.

We wandered outside this morning to keep Kenyon occupied before breakfast. The night before, we had been on our way back home from watching the kids play tag on the beach; Jackson and Alex joined in, and as we walked we heard shouts here and there of "Jackson!". Jackson called to his friends to come by tomorrow; everyone is so welcoming. As we passed a random village kid no more than 11 years old carrying a machete, we asked if he could open it. He made quick work of it, expertly using the machete to rid the hard outer husk and opening a small circle at the top.

Sam wanted to open a coconut this morning, and Mikeli (who lives in Nadi but was in the village for a visit) was a willing teacher. He grabbed the long bamboo pole kept handy just for this purpose and knocked a few down.

Every house has a metal post with a tapered top somewhere outside to use as a coconut opener. Mikeli demonstrated his technique, jabbing it in at an angle and prying a section off.

Sam had a go at it; it takes much more finesse than it looks, as Sam’s first attempt prematurely punctured the inner section. Jackson took a turn…

And so did Kenyon. Mikeli was so kind and patient, and would get Kenyon’s going so he could be at a place to make some progress on it.

The rain here comes fast and hard; here, after some coconut hunting, Sam and Mikeli chat out by the woodshed. In this picture, you can also see the large green tank that collects the plentiful rainwater.

After breakfast, we headed to the beach for a few hours.

The water is a perfect temperature and shallow for quite a ways so there is plenty of room for the kids to play. Sam and Jackson took masks, snorkel and fins (thanks, Summer!) out further to see some ocean life, and the village kids loved using the mask and goggles.

Fijians also seem to never drink good old-fashioned water. At every meal, we are served Tang; I'm not sure if it's a special drink and we are guests or if that's just the drink of choice. Rainwater is collected and put into a large barrel with a faucet; I was told by the expats we met at the Uprising Resort that the water in the village is likely fine, but to stay away from water in the cities. Traveler's diarrhea and these bathroom conditions is something I would heartily like to avoid, so luckily the water seems to be just fine.

That afternoon, we went on a long walk out into the ocean during low tide for octopus hunting . It's not the season, so we didn't find any, although other marine life was plentiful.

Alex discovering an amazingly bright blue starfish

Kenyon holding a sea cucumber

Although we didn't see any octopus, Sam did manage to spear a parrotfish, and Benja got one as well.

I was carrying Jackson piggyback back to the village--he had lost his shoes and was barefoot, which makes for a rough go on the coral, and I couldn't take the sun on my skin anymore. As I walked, a tall, handsome young man far behind me said, "Bula!" and asked if he could carry my son for me. He also offered to go back and look for Jackson's shoes. I declined, but we walked together and learned that his name was Tocana and that he played rugby and worked at a resort. He was from Namatakula but had traveled to Vancouver and Japan with his rugby team. As we continued, he again asked if he could carry Jackson for me. He put Jackson up on his shoulders, which made for a more pleasant walk. He led me back to Simon and Judith's house, and from the young kids excitedly calling his name as he passed, you could tell he was very well-liked in the village. This is the kind of warmth and friendliness that is the norm in the village; everyone cares for each other--even outsiders like us.

For our last dinner, they prepared a traditional lovo feast--a meal that is baked with hot stones underground, and is reserved for special occasions like weddings, birthdays and funerals. Cassava and sweet potato are placed in a gorgeously-wrapped palm casing and placed in an underground fire to cook with hot stones under large taro leaves.

They also add other bundles of meats, and the taro and palm leaves along with the underground roasting add a wonderful smoky flavor.

peeling back the taro leaves to reveal the cooked food

opening the palm leaves to expose the cassava and sweet potato

Jacob and Sala bringing in the roasted cassava and sweet potato

Live crabs from yesterday's crab hunting were boiled with freshly shredded coconut. Ili, Judith's daughter-in-law, painstakingly removes all the meat from the crabs, adds chopped onions, and then places the meat from a few crabs back into one shell. This was by far the most delicious food I had during my stay (or for as long as I can remember, for that matter). Rosa does most of the other cooking and we rarely saw her outside of the kitchen.

the wonderful chef, Rosa

In the morning, it was time to go. We took some final pictures with everyone, and I shed a few tears as we left (surprise, surprise).

Such wonderful people and especially wonderful kids; I really love them. I look forward to printing out pictures of them and sending some their way.

After leaving the village, it's one night in a hotel near the airport and on to Sydney! I couldn't have imagined Fiji would have been as enriching as it was; it feels like we've been gone 6 months, not 5 days. We're now ready to settle into our home for the next year!

goodbye Fiji...

Namatakula Village Travel Diary, Day Two

2011-12-29T20:53:00.001-07:00

Kenyon woke up complaining of hunger this morning; it’s a little difficult to be on someone else’s schedule for eating. We had woken up earlier than everyone else in the home and when I saw Rosa, Iso's wife, in the kitchen beginning to prepare some sort of dough I knew it would be a while. Luckily, he was happily distracted by cartoons. It’s an odd juxtaposition that this home that would be considered utter and complete poverty in the U.S. has a nice flat screen TV with channels like Nickelodeon that we don’t get at home in Colorado. I was thankful for it this morning after hushing Kenyon’s complaints for food.

Breakfast was fresh papaya and lady finger bananas, Weet-Bix with milk (it becomes a sort of porridge when you add cut-up fruit and a sprinkling of Fijian sugar), and fried delicious dough pockets—I forget their name but it’s Fiji’s answer to donuts. Plain or cut open with some jam, they’re great. Alex devoured the porridge (he’s an oatmeal kid at home), and Jackson eats a lifetime supply of fruit at each meal. The rest of the family in the kitchen eats what we don't eat, so I always want to leave plenty of good things but it is difficult with Simon and Judith's urgings to eat more and smiles when the boys take another helping of something.

After breakfast we took a walking tour of the village of Namatakula, which means ‘orange snake’, named when the first inhabitants arrived and saw such snakes.

They have now all been eradicated by the mongoose, which was brought over by Indian indentured servants. People in the village offer a friendly ‘Bula!’ as we pass by, and of course everyone thinks it’s cute when Kenyon replies with his own ‘Bula’.

We hiked with locals Benja, Sala, and Jacob to the waterfall. Benja was a little vague on what the hike entailed, and I’m glad I didn’t know because if I was fully informed I wouldn’t have gone and would have missed something so lovely. It was a fairly grueling hour-long hike each way, through deep muddy paths and 8 river crossings.

this thing is seriously massive

Sam with a GIANT stick insect on his face

Kenyon is used to hiking, but this hike wasn't meant for little kids and he made it partway before hitching a ride piggyback on me the rest of the way. This worked great until I slipped on one of the river crossings and hit his head on a rock—I can assure everyone (i.e. my mom) that there was no wound other than a bump and he was totally fine, THANKFULLY, since we were an hour hike, a two-hour drive, and a four-hour flight to Sydney for access to any sort of real medical care.

The waterfall was well worth the long hike, despite the fact that most of us were barefoot and I’m paranoid thinking of all the bacteria that could get into small wounds as we slogged through the mud that is surely part horse poop that was piled here and there from tourists making the hike on horseback. I kept telling myself that we’re only here for three days and we can take care of anything that might happen when we get to Australia. My mantra--Mosquito bites/infections/sunburns can only get so bad in three days.

Then I had a whole other set of worries to balance when Sam followed Jacob and Sala up the cliff to jump into the waterfall.

He made it fine, but then Jackson wanted a turn. Cue more breath-holding.

After his success, I thought I’d try but really when it comes to thrill-seeking things like that I’m a wimp and decided it wasn’t worth it considering the lack of access to medical care. It doesn’t look that far up in the pictures, but when you’re over there climbing it feels very far.

It is exceptionally hot today, and we came home and feasted on delicious rotis (handmade naan-like bread) with curried potatoes.

Kenyon spotting a hermit crab

At meals, Judith gives us a lot of great insight into life here. I'm particularly interested in what it means to be a wife and mother, and she shared stories about childbirth, loss, and burial. She expressed frustration that Fijian doctors can't find what is wrong with you until after you are dead. We also talked about what the missionaries have done for Fiji--good and bad. She said that although the missionaries ended cannibalism (a good thing), the white men create a lot of trash and she is a firm believer that life was better in Fiji before the missionaries came over.

Alex with his hermit crab (before giving it to a village woman who uses them for bait)

I’m truly surprised and pleased at how well the kids are doing. We are hot, have mosquito bites, our clothes are continually damp, and we’re living in third-world conditions. But we’re also exploring the ocean, hiking to waterfalls, making new friends, and learning about a completely different culture. Most importantly, and what makes it so special to me, is that we’re doing it together as a family.

Namatakula Village Homestay Travel Diary, Day One

2011-12-29T18:20:00.000-07:00

Alex, with new friends Aralai, Sala, Shannon, Bu, and Jacob

We stepped out of the van in the village of Namatakula and there was a group of children from ages 3-14 awaiting our arrival. As a former British colony, everyone learns English in school, although they speak Fijian to each other. Despite being somewhat embarrassing, it’s pretty nice to have the cultural experience of being around people that speak a different language but still get to be the lazy American who isn’t fluent in any other language.

The children-- cousins, brothers and sisters--all live in the village and are currently on their winter holiday from school before starting a new school year in late January. Jackson shared some of his Tic-Tacs, and a game of rugby immediately ensued. They went easy on Jackson (and Alex, who after observing for a while joined in), but were ruthless with each other. The side yard was slick and muddy, so it was not long before the kids gave up trying to stay neat and were soon blissfully dirty.

One of the adults was outside digging a trench, and our boys helped a few kids fill a basket of debris and drag it down a very muddy path to dump it. It started to rain, which made things even muddier. We all were barefoot, wet, and muddy.

Have I mentioned that it was muddy?

Kenyon and Aralai

They have an outdoor washing area where everyone is very careful to wash their legs and feet before coming inside, so that helped mitigate the mess a bit.

Simon and Judith’s house is not at all like any you’d see in the States. Built by Judith’s father, it has an open air dining area, a kitchen (a term used loosely) with a gas tank used for cooking, floor tiles that are patched together to make one semi-complete floor, and a toilet and shower that is a luxury for this area but very far from what one might think when you hear the word ‘luxury’. Let’s put it this way--when I saw it I did a quick calculation to see if I would be able to avoid pooping there, but we’re here for three nights so no such luck.

For lunch, we had rice with curried scrambled eggs, onions, peas and carrots. Kids eat on the floor in the kitchen; adults traditionally eat on the floor as well but because many of the homestay guests couldn’t sit cross-legged on the floor, Simon and Judith now use a large table.

After the kids’ trench work was done, the rain was done as well and we went down to the river (except for Kenyon, who had fallen asleep). The kids continued to play ball games there and took turns jumping in, while I sat in the river and chatted with a couple of women who were cooling themselves on the broken wooden bridge that lies in the water.

Jackson in the river with friends

From there we headed down the path with cousins Sala and Jacob to the ocean. Jacob began collecting clumps of seaweed to be cooked for tomorrow’s dinner, and everyone joined in. They are self-sufficient people, taking most of what they need from the plantations they've planted in the village and the sea, which has an abundance of fish, crabs, seaweed, and octopus.

Sala and Jacob, seaweed hunters

Alex, the proud seaweed hunter

When Alex scraped his foot on a rock, Sala brought over a long piece of bamboo for him to ride on, and then carried him piggyback.

Dinner was an assortment of foods: cassava (a thick tasteless root used to make tapioca), fresh, wonderful pineapple, chicken, and rice. We are bombarded with things that are different from what we're used to on all fronts, but the kids are doing a good job of being polite. I make sure that, between Sam and I, nothing is left on their plates because these people have nothing and it would seem like a terrible waste. During dinner, Iso came home from spearfishing with what to me looked an amazing haul. He said it was average; a good day would bring in 15 large fish. He’s known as the village’s best fisherman, and other people in the village came right over to buy what Iso wasn’t going to use.

After dinner we were invited to a kava ceremony with the village chief. Fijians make a drink out of the kava root that is slightly alcoholic and looks like grey, muddy water. When it was our turn, we followed tradition and clapped once, accepted the bowl of kava, said the Fijian greeting ‘Bula!’, drank it, handed it back, and clapped three times. Typically, it is for adults only but each of the boys was adventurous and participated in the ceremony, drinking a small bowl. When it went into Alex’s mouth I wasn’t sure if he was going to swallow it, but it went down fine. When asked by the village chief how he liked it, Jackson gave a lengthy explanation about its earthy taste; I love the fact that he had no qualms about giving a foodie review of kava to the village chief.

Sam drawing a world map showing the kids where we live

Alex sharing his Fractiles game with Jacob and Sala

We just got home, and we are all wiped out. Day One of the homestay has come to a close; it is incredible how much we have done and seen already.

Bus Treks and Uprising

2011-12-27T08:00:00.002-07:00

The bus ride to the Uprising Beach Resort was 3 hours long—I knew this, but hadn’t quite filled in Sam or the boys because I wasn’t sure if there would be mutiny to hear there would be 3 hours tacked on to our already massive trip. It was a local bus, but big and air-conditioned. I figured it would be packed with other tourists heading to their various resorts along the southern coast, but it was locals and us. Along the way, as Jackson exclaimed with delight how he couldn’t believe how close the road was to the ocean, the men around us smiled.

Now, a 3-hour bus ride really isn’t so terrible, even after all the travel—but here’s the kicker.

No food was allowed on the bus.

Have you read In The Heart of the Sea, the survival story of the men on the whaling boat? One of the men who survived his whaling expeditions but always kept a stocked hanging net of food provisions right above him in his berth. Sam must be a descendant of this guy; 3 hours without food is absolutely unthinkable. I ended up breaking up the last of my dark chocolate bar with caramel and sea salt and distributing it among us (Kenyon was sleeping, so shhhh, don’t tell him that he missed out).

I told Sam that the bus ride was ‘like 2 hours or so’, and broke the news gently at about the 1 hour and 45 minute mark. I’m alive to write this, so luckily it went okay.

I really loved the bus ride, and my only frustration was that I saw so many things I wanted to photograph but all attempts were recorded as a blur. Houses are incredibly simple by US standards; made of cinderblock with corrugated tin roofs. The Hurricane Andrew survivor in me wondered how these structures would hold up in any sort of intense wind. There was an occasional cow, chicken and horse. We passed by hilly landscapes incredibly lush with greenery, and wove around the ocean scattered with palm trees and other tropical plants. Fishing nets were laid out in one front yard, and at one bus stop a man was selling yellow squash-looking fruits under a newspaper. As we waited, another bus pulled up next to us and we could see the women pointing and smiling at Jackson’s lighter hair, skin, and eyes.

I was absolutely sure that the bus ride would be 3 hours of management of the kids’ exhaustion, excitement, boredom, and punchiness. I couldn’t have been more wrong, and thus could not be more thankful. They all looked at the sights, Alex and Kenyon slept, and Jackson made attempts to read until our position in the back of the bus proved too bumpy.

Just at the point that were all starting to feel the hunger set in, the bus dropped us off on the side of the highway; we could see the sign to turn for our resort about 30 yards ahead. No big deal, right? Except for the fact that we had 6 large suitcases, 3 backpacks, a booster seat, a laptop bag, and a purse. Laugh or cry, right? Hahahahahahahaha. All but one bag was a roller, so we balanced that one on a roller, all carried a few things, and set off wheeling everything on the gravelly road. I prayed that when we made the turn into the resort, buildings would be visible immediately.

We had walked about 20 feet when a pickup truck pulled over to the side of the road just in front of us. I never got the man’s name, but let’s just call him Our Savior. Our Savior asked us where we were going and loaded our suitcases in his truck. We piled in and he drove us into the resort (which was quite a ways down the road)—his son went to school with the resort’s owner, so he was quite familiar with the place and drove us right up to the front. We tried to thank him with some money, but he declined and said he was happy to do it. I had read about Fijian hospitality and kindness, and it was evident just then.

At check-in, the beachfront bure that I had reserved back in May and dreamed about ever since was not available, and we were upgraded to a villa. Although the villas are not directly on the sand like the bures, I can’t complain—this place is absolutely beautiful. The kids are most impressed by the flat screen tv that swivels in the wall to face either the bedroom or the sitting room. But for me, the outdoor shower is the best and I’m trying to figure out a way to install one in Denver.

As soon as we reenergized with some food, we explored and spent the rest of the day at the pool and beach.

The absolute highlight of the day happened that afternoon, when we walked down the beach and saw an American local taking a couple of kids at a time for rides out on his small catamaran. We hung out and made a sand castle until he came back, and the older boys asked if they could go. Kenyon of course didn’t want to miss out, so I went along with the three boys and Todd, the sailor, who turned out to be a retired California fireman who came down here to live; his decision was cemented by the arrival of his half-Fijian daughter, now 7 years old.

Todd had Alex stand up on the horizontal part of the mast that holds the bottom of the sail; Alex leaned back against the sail and rode with the waves at a quick chop. We sailed far out, where Todd knew of a reef that we could see, and the boys and I watched as coral passed underneath us and then dropped off like a wall.

When we reached shore, Sam was chatting with a British expat friend of Todd’s named Phil. Phil was carving the skin off a plant with his pocketknife and handed it to us to try. Sugarcane. Delicious.

Phil also gave the boys a couple of wild bush cucumbers, which they argued over and devoured with some salt while playing in the pool with Todd’s daughter and her cousin. We thanked the men with a drink and spent the next hour or so chatting on beanbags on the grass, hearing how they came to be here and what life was like as the sky grew darker and rumbled overhead. It could not have been a more enjoyable day, in my book.

For dinner, Sam and I took Todd's advice and ordered the kokoda, a raw fish salad that is the Fijian take on ceviche. Made with lemon juice and coconut cream, it was absolutely delicious. Kenyon fell asleep with his head on Sam's lap right there at the table, and we all headed to bed early after a fantastic first day.

Sadly, we leave in the morning, but we're looking forward to what awaits us at our village stay in Namatakula.

The Flight

2011-12-26T12:05:00.000-07:00

2.5 hour drive out of the redwoods+3 hours in SFO+1 hour flight +5.5 hours in LAX+endless gate changing/shuttling/boarding= ohmygosharewedoneyet? (coming from Sam and I, not the kids—they were great). They passed the waiting hours with classic games such as Toss the Travel Pillow, Roll The Quarter Down the Ramps and Halls, and Put Things On Your Head.

Kenyon managed to eat half a hamburger, fries, salami, cheese, crackers and two apples, so I’m thinking that the vomiting upon arrival at SFO was a fluke. Whew.

There’s no WiFi in the international terminal at LAX, so I made a $9 collect call (who knew they even existed nowadays?) to speak with my family for 10 minutes to wish them a Merry Christmas.

us, just after boarding

If you’ve ever been on a long international flight that departs in the evening, you know that passengers immediately settle in with the requisite travel pillows, blankets, and eye covers and go right to sleep. Stewardesses create the restful ambience by dimming the lights and keeping announcements to a minimum. Well, note to passengers a few rows up from me—this is not the best time to begin a 5-hour long game where you imitate the sound of your toddlers squeals and screeches. It is only because I’m excited about this whole journey and seeing other cultures that I’m going to assume that in your culture this is some important rite of passage for your child and not simply extreme disregard for sleepy passengers.

The first 7 hours have been fitful sleep; as I write this, we have 3.5 hours left; I believe breakfast will be served in a half hour. If it’s anything like the dinner (some sort of chicken chunks in sauce with overcooked carrots, a mini iceberg salad with shrimp, a roll and a Twix), it will be edible but not enjoyable.

When Jackson unwrapped his foil-enclosed breakfast, he delightedly announced, "Score!" A egg and bacon croissant awaited him, and he polished off his and most of Alex's. He later stated that he couldn't believe how nice this flight was, that we got free food! I didn't have the heart to tell him that this mediocre meal used to be standard on all flights.

Before long, we could see a glimpse of this, poorly captured out of the plane window...

We were all elated to get off the plane; now our adventure was REALLY beginning!

Kenyon looks a little dazed, but we're otherwise not too shabby upon landing in Fiji

And......We're Off!

2011-12-24T14:47:00.000-07:00

What a relief to leave our home and be done with the massive preparations! You'd think something massive would have fallen through the cracks during all the craziness--the only pre-trip stupidity I've realized so far is this: I ran some last-minute neighborhood errands the morning of our departure, delivering holiday cards, returning library books...I headed to the grocery store to use one of those Coinstar machines to trade in a baggie full of coins. I dutifully watched as the coins trickled down through the metal slots, the machine counting each quarter, dime, nickel, and penny. Then..............feeling very proud of myself for all I had accomplished before 7am, my errand was complete and I walked away, leaving the slip of paper in the machine that I should have brought to the cashier to get my money! Ahh, well, it undoubtedly brightened someone's day.

5 days in the redwoods has been just what the doctor ordered. We visited a neighbor's unbelievable oceanfront property to watch a herding dog in action, rounding up the sheep and responding to certain whistles that alert him to go in a clockwise or counterclockwise direction. It was, in a word, incredible, from the dog's skills, to the waves crashing into the cove right off their front yard, to the milk cow grazing lazily right by the front door, even down to the flock of white pigeons that flies around overhead. We played games with family, took walks in the redwoods, kayaked and canoed in the lake, and reveled in the fact that all our work was done.

I felt so much anxiety the day the Australians were to arrive--we had left our house a dusty mess with a cleaning lady scheduled for the next day, but clearly the control freak in me wanted concrete proof that our house was in appropriate order for our guests. Luckily, all went well and they arrived only a couple of hours late due to a snowstorm that brought 9 or so inches for their arrival.

We are now at the San Francisco airport--Kenyon vomited as soon as we got out of the car. Cross your fingers that it was due to the drive and not a stomach bug, or I have a feeling that Fiji will be memorable in ways that I'd rather not think about. We've got plenty of fun traveling toys to keep us busy, thanks to the boys' grandparents (have you heard of Nanoblocks? They're awesome!). Just a short hop to Los Angeles, and then we're off for the big haul. I've taken some pictures, but of course I'm not quite organized to have the USB cord for the camera with me.

While you're crossing your fingers, put some good thoughts out there for a smooth, uneventful flight. I'm not keen on being over water for 10 hours and 45 minutes. At all.

We'll be in the air for the holiday, so Merry Christmas!

Sleepless

2011-12-17T06:19:00.000-07:00

At the wee hour of 4:38am, my eyes popped open and the to-do list began playing in my head like one of those unmanned pianos that you see in old-timey western saloons. It was much too early to be up puttering around the house, and I'm going to have to pace myself if I'm going to get through these agonizing last two days of preparation. I 'rested', tossing and turning for a while, but finally decided to use my time wisely (ha!) and write this blog entry.

Yesterday was massively productive, despite the emotional weight that came with the kids' last day of school. I wore sunglasses at the afternoon pickup, which did a poor job of masking my tears. Jackson's teacher had given him a book as a parting gift; to be honest, I haven't been able to bring myself to look at it yet. Both the older boys have received journals from their friends; so sweet.

Jackson is old enough that he feels the pang in his heart and was a little teary-eyed at bedtime. I did my best to honor his feelings and at the same time reassure him that Skype was a great way to see his friends' faces, and that along with writing real letters, he could also dictate an email that I could send off to a parent to pass along whenever he'd like. I also told him that I'm sure he'll make good friends while we're down there, to which he replied, "But then I'll just have to leave them, too!". Right, son...there are definitely benefits and drawbacks to having an open heart; I know them well and struggle with it daily.

This weekend is forecasted to be sunny with highs of 53, which in the Colorado altitude makes for glorious weather. Oh, did I tell you that our area of New South Wales has had an unseasonably cold and rainy summer so far? It's predicted to stay that way; here's hoping that Australian meteorologists are about as accurate as American ones, because as coastal transplants, Sam and I have quite a bit of beach time to soak up to make up for all the these inland years in Colorado.

Salty sea air, here I come (if I can make it through this to-list). It's now 6:08am; time to get going. Next post will likely be quick, as we wait to board our plane to San Francisco on Monday.

For Mom and Dad

2011-12-12T13:37:00.000-07:00

One mere week from today, we will close the door to our home and we won't be back for a year.

I don't think any Move Across the World For a Year Preparation would be possible without help from parents. We were fortunate enough to have my parents come in for a last visit over the weekend--we had just seen them a couple of weeks ago for Thanksgiving, but my mom wanted to ~~complete her mission of brainwashing of my children into getting on Skype every day~~ squeeze in some more quality time with her grandsons.

In between reading stories and playing games with the kids, my parents were workhorses--Dad tightened the loose cabinet in the kitchen, fixed the shoddily-installed dishwasher so it doesn't fall forward each time you open it, replaced the faulty circuit in the electrical box, installed a circuit cover, and copied all the information from the desktop computer onto a thumb drive. Whew.

We have a cleaning lady scheduled for the day after our departure, but Mom took care of some cleaning that she figured the cleaning lady wouldn't get to--she took down and washed each of the glass globes in the light fixtures, dusted wood blinds and tops of door trim, and completely readied the downstairs guest bedroom and bathroom. She has a penchant for breaking things during cleaning frenzies, but I'm happy to report that I only heard the tinkling of shattering glass once all weekend. I have no idea what broke, but it likely wasn't important anyway and I'm just so thankful for everything they did.

What better time to throw a birthday party for your child than 9 days before you move out of the country for a year? We managed to pull off a simple pool party at the rec center with Alex's favorite friends; it was a great way to get together with friends outside of school and let him know that we think he's pretty awesome and want to celebrate his existence in the world. On his actual birthday this Thursday, I'll make sure to prepare the yummiest stack of pancakes exactly how he has requested for his birthday dinner--with chopped kiwi, strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, and homemade whipped cream. And of course, a candle on top so he can wish for something amazing.

With all the work my parents did, I was kind of in relax mode, and it wasn't until they left Sunday afternoon that I kicked into gear. The playroom is now organized and inviting, the toys anxiously awaiting to be scattered by the two kiddos who will be living in the house. Sam and I have made strides in preparing the closets and moving clothes that won't be taken down to the basement storeroom.

I sold Kenyon's toddler bed (thank you, trusty Craigslist). He slept on the mattress on the floor last night, an experience he declared 'awesome'. Just wait until we are camping amongst kangaroos, buddy...

It's really happening. And even as an official, card-carrying, fully-grown adult with kids of my own, it's still awfully comforting to have to have the love and support of parents. Thanks for everything, Mom and Dad--I can't wait to meet you at the Sydney airport and have you experience some of this adventure with us.

Running the Gauntlet

2011-12-05T10:32:00.000-07:00

At T minus 14 days and counting, we're looking pretty good. The dining room chair with the wobbly leg that has sat in the corner for nearly a year has now happily joined the rest of his tribe at the table. The guest bathroom shower handle has been tightened; its threats of breaking toes by hurling itself to the floor now silenced.

I straightened the kids' myriad bookshelves, organizing by genre, author, and reading level. This means either the boys will not be allowed to read anything for the next 14 days, or I am going to be the Crazy Mom Book Police, hovering over their every selection to make sure it is put back properly. But really, who am I kidding? They don't reshelve books on their own anyway; the floor/coffee table/car/kitchen counter is their bookshelf, so I should be able to manage the organization from here on out just fine.

I weeded out the stray toys from the playroom and, because Kenyon will be nearing 5 years old when we return, sold the babyish ones at a garage sale. The boys need to decide what items are keepers on their personal shelves, and those will be boxed up until our return (i.e., I don't think the Aussie kids want to be greeted by the random animal bones found on hikes that currently grace Jackson's shelf. Or the tanned squirrel hide.). I think I'll make an executive decision and sneak that delightful little keepsake into the garbage.

You might be thinking that these minute details mean we are all prepared, but there are some big things still looming over us. I liken the remaining tasks of the next couple of weeks to running the gauntlet, after which we will hopefully emerge victorious, boarding the plane to begin our adventure.

entering the gauntlet...

Where to park our minivan for a year? No easy task. The Aussies will pay utilities here, so I need to make sure certain bills are switched to online billing and switch utilities back to paper billing (which means countless phone calls, which means running the gauntlet otherwise known as Automated Customer Service). I have never before yearned so steadily for a personal assistant who I could pass this off to with a wave of a manicured hand while languidly sipping my cappuccino.

Since I didn't have anything better to do, I decided at nearly the last minute to refinance our mortgage at a lower interest rate and take out a little cash so we have some money to do a couple of really memorable things during our trip. Our mortgage is through our credit union, so I figured it would be straight-forward and relatively pain-free.

Ha!

When the bank guy analyzed my credit report and started asking me about my second and third mortgage and my credit line with QVC, I knew something was terribly wrong. An address listed in the residential history shows a PO Box in the mountain town of Gypsum, Colorado--I have never lived there. And there, under my aliases, was the name of someone whose name closely resembled my maiden name.

Somehow, my credit report has been intertwined with this other woman, and I know I will spend the rest of my life trying to disentangle myself from this mess.

The good news is that she is paying her bills regularly, but this error is still negatively affecting my credit because of the sheer amount of credit she carries.

In other words, lady, lighten up on the 'quality diamonique' QVC bracelets.

My bank guy understands the situation and is working to at least clear up the credit report internally so the refinance can proceed in the most favorable manner. We'll see if it all happens and we can eke out a closing by late next week...cross your fingers.

Thank You, Kerrville

2011-11-29T11:50:00.000-07:00

As children, my brother and I spent many a vacation in Kerrville, Texas at my grandparents' house. Now, you may be thinking that Kerrville doesn't necessarily sound like a luxurious place to vacay, but like my mom's parents' place in Maine, my dad's parents' place set in Texas' Hill Country is a kid's dream, and one that has a special place in my heart.

The property is 9 or so acres within a 3000-acre working ranch, so opportunities abound for exploring creek beds for arrowheads, skipping rocks into the lake, finding the perfect walking stick, and keeping an eye out for deer, blackbuck antelope and mouflon sheep. When we were kids (gloriously before insurance premiums took the fun out of nearly everything), we galloped on horses and dove from the diving board at the community pool. We played tag on the windmill out front (so much for parental supervision!), tiptoed across the cattle guard, and baked many batches of cookies and peanut brittle in Grandma's kitchen.

My grandfather, a mechanical engineer by trade, could build anything. I felt so privileged to be invited into his workshop to help construct delicate miniature furniture that outfitted the Victorian dollhouse he made for me. He built model planes that really flew. He once sawed off half his pinky finger just before a big camping trip, and decided to leave it off because he figured he didn't need it much anyway (although I think he especially delighted in shocking the younger grandkids with the real live version of the ole 'separating your finger from your hand' trick).

I felt wistful as we entered the property this year, reaching the place in the hill that descends down towards the lake where you can spot my grandparents' windmill and barn from across the valley. I wished my kids could have met my brilliant grandfather, whom we lost far too young to early-onset Alzheimer's. I told stories about him, and Alex (whose middle name comes from his grandfather) said that he figured he got his grandfather's good building skills. I like that he feels a connection to someone that is special to me, despite the fact they never got to spend time together.

I do feel so fortunate that my kids get to spend time with their great-grandmother. This year, she taught all the great-grandkids how to play Charades, and Jackson got a lesson in a few solitaire card games. In my parenting moment of the year, I bribed Kenyon with a promise of candy to entice him to come out from hiding underneath the table and participate in this picture with his brothers, cousins, and great-Grandma.

We followed the typical Thanksgiving itinerary--gorged ourselves on my mom's cooking, hung out, and played Ticket to Ride, Catan, and Mexican Train. The kids got some good time in with their cousins.

We picnicked and explored at Dinosaur Rock one afternoon.

What picture of any Nana and Papa with their grandkids would be complete without the obligatory grumpy 3-year old smack dab in the middle?

On the way back from the picnic, a group of horses were clustered right by the road, so we rolled down the windows and stopped to say hello.

Um....horses' heads are big. I astutely noted this as the horses stuck their heads inside of our vehicle. Well, hello there! It was part cute (my mom's thinking), part frightening (my dad's thinking) to pet their soft noses and eventually thank them for their congeniality but we must really be going now, don't you have some hay to nibble on or something?

Mom with an overly friendly horse

One night, Jackson braved the cold with my two cousins that he idolizes and my aunt (nicknamed Uncle Nora) to witness the Christmas Parade in Comfort, TX.

We'll be roughly 9,000 miles away from Kerrville this time next year, likely not celebrating Thanksgiving at all, but the feeling of family will stay with me despite the distance. I love these people.

Is There Such Thing as a Tissue Sommelier?

2011-11-18T08:30:00.004-07:00

Friendship is unnecessary, like art...
It has no survival value; rather, is one of those things that give value to survival.
~C.S. Lewis

We don't have family in town, but we are so fortunate to be surrounded by amazing friends. Denver is the only city I've lived in during my adult life, so I don't have much to compare it to in the realm of making friends as adults, but people are really friendly here. And cool. You know where I met many of my friends? Through my involvement at my kids' school. I'm not talking about the 'Crap, there's a school function and now I'm going to have to chit-chat with a bunch of fake people' kind of friends, but real, down-to-earth friends. God, I love this school. I'm coming to the realization that the fact that my kids' school is what I'm truly going to miss most during our year away either makes me a lunatic, or incredibly blessed.

Jury's still out on that one.

Some friends have suggested that we throw a going-away party before we leave for Australia. While that sounds like a great opportunity to see everyone, especially those friends that we consider dear but only see once or twice a year, I balked, saying that I would likely just be a teary-eyed disaster. Hell, I cried at my son's end-of-season soccer party when his coach had the audacity to talk about the spring season and then looked at Alex and told him that he's looking forward to having him back on the team the following spring when we return.

You see, Alex's soccer team is made up of kids from his 1st grade class--one of the dads is the coach, and the end-of-season party was held at the cozy restaurant Satchel's on 6th, which is owned by another dad. He opened up his restaurant just for the occasion and served a delicious grilled salad and braised short ribs, with wine aplenty. Warm atmosphere, good people...I wish I could blame my tears on the wine, but I didn't even have a sip.

Really, Annie? The fact that your son will miss out on a year of soccer team participation elicits tears? Yikes. I guess I just really love life here, so even though I'll be back in a year--hopefully with my kids at the same school, although it's not a given--I'm just really going to miss everyone. Don't get me wrong; I'm incredibly psyched for this next year and am having way too much fun in the evenings planning a rough 3-week camping itinerary...but I'm still going to miss everyone.

As I was in the midst of writing this post, I received an email from two friends (that I met at the kids' school, damn them for being so awesome) saying that they weren't going to accept not having a going away party and tossed out some ideas. Want to know the height of lameness? At the dinner table tonight, I told Sam that I have the nicest friends ever, and couldn't even get the words out about the party without crying. Then I had to explain to the boys that I wasn't sad, I was just really happy.

Did you hear that, Sara and Laura? Better pick a place that is known for their selection of fine tissues. And hey, maybe start being a little bitchy so this whole process could get a little easier on me.

Love you guys, and I look forward to you rightfully ridiculing me when I sport an affected Aussie accent just over a year from now.

Over the Edge

2011-11-09T13:14:00.005-07:00

A couple of hard weeks dealing with a friend's death on top of the usual stress of preparing for our journey has put a couple of chinks in my armor. This recent Travel Vaccine Fiasco just about put me over the edge...

I'm not anti-vaccine by any means, but I do believe in being informed about what is going into my kids' bodies and why. I followed a modified vaccine schedule, spreading shots out a bit even if it meant more needles, because I didn't like the idea of overwhelming their little immune systems with multiple vaccines all at once. By the time Kenyon was born, giving newborns vitamin D supplements was standard practice. I declined, because really, it would be an effort to not get enough vitamin D in Denver, with its more than 300 days of sparkly bright sunshine.

In preparation for our trip, a phone appointment with our insurance's Travel Clinic informed me that Sam and I would need Tetanus/Whooping Cough and Hepatitis A vaccines, and both older boys would just need the Hepatitis A vaccine (Kenyon had already had it, as it was standard by the time he came into the world).

Jackson, at 3 years old

As always, I asked what symptoms to watch for in case of a terrible vaccine reaction, and the shots were uneventful--the nurse gave me the handy tip of doing a few push-ups, even just against the wall, to reduce post-vaccine muscle soreness, and it really worked well. Jackson, Alex and I were in the elevator heading out when Jackson leaned against the wall, saying he was really tired and wanted to rest when we got home. We walked across the lobby towards the other elevator that provides access to the parking garage. As we headed down to the garage, Jackson weakly said he didn't feel good at all, that he felt like he was going to throw up.

The doors opened and we stepped out into the parking garage elevator lobby, where Jackson's legs buckled, body collapsed, and he lay there totally unresponsive on the ground.

Jackson, at 5 years old

Inwardly, I was in complete panic mode, thinking of the possibility that he was having some freakish reaction to the vaccine that was just pumped into him. I struggled, trying to lift him, but it quickly became apparent that his 8-year old body as dead weight is too much for this mother to carry. The jackets and vaccination papers that I had been carrying were strewn all over the place.

Time stopped for me there, with my son lying limp on the tile floor. With no one around to help and me unable to lift him, I had to drag his seemingly lifeless body into the elevator to get back up to the main lobby. Alex was awesome; I'm sure he was totally freaked out inside but he stayed calm and I didn't notice it at the time but he swiftly picked up all the stuff that I had dropped and rode in the elevator with me.

Jackson, at 7 years old

Frustratingly, the elevator didn't appear to notice the emergency and took its merry time bringing us up to the main floor, where I dragged Jackson out in to the lobby and yelled for help; at this point he still wasn't conscious. As nurses ran over, he was finally starting to open his eyes, and we took him in a wheelchair back up to the doctor's office while I tried to not completely lose my shit in front of my kids.

Turns out he just fainted; they said it's fairly common for boys to hold their breath while they get a shot and then it catches up to them a few minutes later when they're on their feet.

He was completely back to normal a short time later, but me? I am ready to either spend some time locked away in a mental institution or at a spa. Given our finances, an institution seems far more likely.

Who finagled me into this having-children-that-you-love-more-than-life-itself business? I could be sipping Mai Tais on a beach with my biggest worry being deciding between the conch fritters or the lobster tail for dinner instead of trying to make peace with the terrible predicament of a mother desperately loving three human beings and not being able to protect them from life's dangers. What worries me most is that in the grand scheme of things, this fainting incident was super minor, and it almost took me down for good.

There's no way I'm going to survive parenthood.

6 Weeks

2011-11-08T11:40:00.000-07:00

A glance at the calendar jolted me awake this afternoon. Yes, the calendar. Who needs a shot of espresso when you've got a year-long journey halfway around the world with your husband and three children looming? We've got a mere six(!) weekends left, and one of those will be spent with my extended family in Kerrville, TX over the Thanksgiving holiday.

You may be wondering how The Preparations are coming along (my mom is, at the very least). We fixed our front door lock that suddenly appeared to have crapped out after only 105 years of keeping families safe. When Sam opened it up for some exploratory surgery, it turned out that it only needed a little oiling and it's good as new; man, things were built to last in 1906. We also did some major fall yard cleanup and ~~art teacher hoarding~~ scrap lumber removal. Winters in Colorado don't allow for showy blooms; I wish that the yard would look prettier when the Aussies arrive, but at least they'll be pleasantly surprised when spring hits.

I'm going to do a dry run of packing up just my stuff this weekend to get an idea of how many bags we're looking at--I was hoping to have one bag per person, with one extra 'stuff' bag (5 sleeping bags will account for most of that one, even with those handy suction bags to reduce their size). Our Australian counterparts, with one less child than our family, are bringing 8 bags, so I could be terribly underestimating our needs. We shall see.

Thanks to our awesome Aussie family facilitating the communication/mechanic's inspection/negotiation, we are thisclose to being the proud owners of a used Australian minivan.

You see, we have nearly a month down there before school begins, and I would much rather spend that time camping amongst kangaroos and goannas than dealing with Terribly Boring Logistics (especially because let's face it, Terribly Boring Logistics always fall on my lap, not my husband's). This car purchase is one huge check off the Terribly Boring Logistics list. Cars, like everything down there it seems, are more expensive than here, but the 1995 Toyota Tarago (known as a Previa in the United States) should work just fine.

the interior of the minivan, with the nifty (ha!) upholstered dashboard and THEWHEELONTHERIGHTHANDSIDEOHMYGOSH HOWCANITRUSTSAMTODRIVETHISTHINGBYHIMSELFTOSCHOOLWITHOUTGETTINGKILLED??

I've been keeping an eye on the Wollongong local newspaper to get an idea of life down there, and this article from yesterday's news (Driver Dies As Car Bursts Into Flames After Hitting Kangaroo) didn't do much to assuage my driving-on-the-left-hand-side-of-the-road fears. So, not only do we have to make sure we're keeping on the left side, but we also have to dodge kangaroos? It makes me wish Sam has spent more of his time playing video games; that surely would have prepared him a bit more for this experience.

I have not named a car since my first, the beloved 1974 blue Volkswagen Super Beetle that my parents, in some momentary lapse of judgment, purchased for me the summer before I turned 16 so I could learn how to drive a stick shift. I sat in the driveway the day I got it, listening to the turn-dial radio, listening to Pearl Jam, Nirvana and Beastie Boys cassette tapes, and thinking that I was the luckiest girl in the world. He didn't have a name until Tyler Evans (who looked like a game show host even back then, in a good way) in my college Spanish class gave him one, but 'Dexter' fit him perfectly.

I think it's time to name another car, considering the bond we'll have with this one as it will carries us on our travels. I'm thinking we should call him Ferdinand, after the famous explorer Ferdinand Magellan. I'll let you know once I see him in person if the name fits.

Thanks, Tom

2011-11-01T20:49:00.001-06:00

Take 1
Jackson, my son with an absolute replica of my logical/spelling bee/orderly brain, has surprised me recently by writing song lyrics. He sings them, and I've heard the younger two walking around singing them as well. They're catchy. I'd venture to say they're good, maybe even great if you take into account the fact that he's only eight years old. He's hesitant to attach himself to being a musician, but I told him that the only difference between a song and a poem is that one is set to music (although I'm neither a musician nor a poet, so what do I know?).

I saw him write a couple of lines today; he said he came up with them as he took out the trash. I can't divulge the lines here because they may or may not be written in a letter to his Nana and Papa that will be mailed tomorrow--but they reminded me of the lovely, heartbreaking Tom Waits song, San Diego Serenade.

I never saw the morning til I stayed up all night
I never saw the sunshine until you turned out the light
I never saw my hometown until I stayed away too long
I never heard the melody until I needed the song

I never saw the white line til I was leaving you behind
I never knew I needed you until I was caught up in a bind
And I never spoke I love you til I cursed you in vain
I never felt my heartstrings until I nearly went insane

I never saw the east coast until I moved to the west
I never saw the moonlight til it shone off your breast
I never saw your heart until someone tried to steal, tried to steal it away
I never saw your tears til they rolled down your face

Just before bedtime, my two oldest boys and I sat in silence, listening, as I played the song for them. I love that they're at an age where I can share things, and they can appreciate things, that are meaningful to me.

Take 2
I'm quick to move on after holidays--the day after Christmas, I'm itchin' to get the ornaments nestled into their nicely divided Tupperware bins, the lights neatly wound (although they have an uncanny ability to tie themselves in complicated sailor knots by the time the next year rolls around), and the tree out by the dumpster where the city picks it up to turn into mulch for spring gardens. I'll find rogue pine needles hiding out under the couch and in doorway crevices until long after the tulips have bloomed, but still, it feels good to move on.

Likewise, and especially in anticipation of the snowstorm headed our way tonight, I packed away the life-size skeleton, tombstone, and other Halloween goodies that helped make our house 'definitely waaaaay spookier than any other house on the street', as Alex declared every time we pulled into the driveway over the last couple of weeks.

I also removed the plants that brought so much beauty and life to our front porch since warmth was the norm, and the vines of morning glories that had fiercely wound their way up our railing. They had done their work, bursting open their violet blooms for us to enjoy as each summer day began, and now it was time to rest.

As I carted the load out by wheelbarrow to the alley dumpster on this evening before a snowstorm, before my friend Meghan's service tomorrow, a lump rose in my throat. Seasons change, loved ones leave us, and we must move on.

I think Tom Waits will be the soundtrack for my evening.

Robbed

2011-10-27T10:43:00.002-06:00

When I first met Meghan (who I've written about earlier here), she was the gorgeous girl sitting in my orientation for teaching summer school. I was not a teacher, nor did I have plans to become one, but it was a pretty good summer gig to teach a half day during the summer while I figured out my law school plans. And with Meghan teaching as well, it was a blast. She was fun, carefree, and we spent many an afternoon sunning ourselves at the pool.

Some years later, Meghan fell in love with Barton, the cute PE teacher at her school. How perfect is that? English teacher marries the gym teacher.

Just three weeks after they were married, Meghan noticed a lump and her neck and was diagnosed with cancer--a rare form, called synovial cell sarcoma. Barton has been a rock throughout this journey of supporting Meghan, and the grace with which Meghan has handled this diagnosis has been astounding.

Meghan wanted nothing more than to be a mother, and last October she welcomed three beautiful babies into the world. Having triplets would be a daunting road in itself for anyone, but Meghan and Barton were remarkably calm and joyful with their babies, most notably just a couple of weeks ago as I shared in the celebration of their triplets' first birthday.

Meghan bravely battled the relentless cancer for five years but last night had an unexpected, fatal brain hemorrhage. Doctors say she didn't experience any pain, that she basically just went to sleep, which at the moment offers me only a little bit of solace.

Right now I'm feeling so sorry for her one-year old triplets who will only hear stories about how wonderful and kind their mother was. And for her husband, who has been robbed of the opportunity to share his life, and the joy of raising their children, with the woman he loves.

I know there are no guarantees in life, but this one really gets me.

The world just lost a really kindhearted, beautiful, fun person. Fuck you very much, cancer.

Edited to add: An education fund has been set up for Meghan's triplets. Anyone wishing to make a donation can mail to:
Barton Joule Triplets Fund
Horizons North Credit Union
11455 Pearl St.
Northglenn, CO 80233

Also, anyone wishing to follow the adorable triplets (Kesleigh, Preston, and Gavin) as they grow can keep an eye on http://www.jouletriplets.blogspot.com.

A Different Season in 21 Hours

2011-10-26T09:44:00.000-06:00

October 25, 2011 4:27pm

October 26, 2011 7:27am

8+3=Love

2011-10-25T11:03:00.000-06:00

By 7:30pm last night, Kenyon was completely and utterly exhausted. The kids are always more weary on Mondays, and the Boys vs. Dad front-yard wrestling match that was gearing up just as I skipped out the door to my spinning class likely depleted Kenyon's little three-year old energy reserves. Keeping up with two older brothers is a tough job, and Kenyon has mightily risen to the occasion since way back when crawling was his preferred method of mobility.

Last night, he communicated his weariness with tears--tears that he didn't want to take his clothes off for a bath, tears that his brothers were bathing before him, tears that I told him if he spent too much time crying then we wouldn't be able to read a story. Parental impatience morphed into motherly compassion, and I skipped the nightly bath routine, scooped up his delicious little wiped-out body and tucked him right into bed with a kiss. Blanket? Beary? Done and done. Lights out.

He shares a room with both of his older brothers, who were looking forward to some reading time before bedtime. Alex headed to our bedroom and was immediately immersed into Harry and his TriWizard Tournament drama. I told Jackson he could read up in his bed with his headlamp.

Twenty minutes later, I headed upstairs to give them the lights out call but was surprised to hear a voice reading softly out loud. I opened the door to the kids' room and saw this:

Jackson, instead of delving deeper into his Norse tale, The Sea of Trolls, was reading to his little brother from our pop-up 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.

As I walked back downstairs, my footsteps felt lighter; strange, considering the fact that my heart felt so impossibly full.

(Nearly) Wordless Wednesday

2011-10-19T12:21:00.000-06:00

The secondary title of this post should be "Why I Am Not An Art Teacher". Considering my husband is an art teacher, you'd think a teensy bit of his talent would have rubbed off on me over these past 10 years. Isn't that supposed to be a perk of being married??

On one recent afternoon, Kenyon and I sat out on the front porch doing an activity where I would draw an animal. He'd guess what it was (miraculously, considering the skill level, or lack thereof), and then we'd sound out the letters as I wrote the name.

My first grader eyed the drawings warily and diplomatically said, "You could have drawn a mane on the zebra." No wonder it looked so weird...

The Universe Smiled

2011-10-13T09:15:00.000-06:00

Sometimes, there are moments or events in one’s life where everything comes together so harmoniously it's like you can actually see and feel the universe smiling upon you. It doesn't happen very often, but maybe I'm just not in a place within myself to notice that smiling universe, either. Regardless, the way Tuesday began gave me no clue as to what it had in store for me when I went to work that morning.

My boys’ Fall Break that happened to not coincide with the rest of the public school system (darn you and your flexible scheduling, public charter school!) kind of threw a wrench in, well, the fact that I have a JOB. Granted, we should have planned ahead, but I figure my public school teacher husband would have the same days off as my public school children, right? Ah, wrong, it turns out.

I was a little grumbly about heading home early to relieve the half-day babysitter I managed to scrape together at the last minute. Alas, my grumbliness was not put to rest as I walked through the front door. Somehow, in the 3 hours I was gone diligently earning a living, the boys managed to turn the house inside out. It was as if a pack of rabid coyotes had been spent a week wrestling. Indoors. In every room in the house. The Cat in the Hat story without the last-minute cleaning effort. You get the picture, and any mom knows that draining feeling when fun mom needs to deal with a bunch of bullshit.

After barking quite a few cleaning orders and reprimands, we all tumbled outside into……… this.

My mood immediately lifted (honestly, how could someone possibly maintain a sour mood under that color of sky? I think I actually see the universe smiling in that picture), the boys’ wily coyote selves were tempered, and we all basked in the glorious Colorado sunshine. We brought out the regular wooden block set, the small wooden block set, the architectural wooden block set and the Magna-Tiles, and proceeded to spend the next 4 hours, no exaggeration, out in our front yard building and enjoying each other’s company.
Brothers collaborating…

Solo efforts…

This architectural set from ~~Tuesday Morning~~ Santa is awesome. I had so much fun working with Alex, my little out-of-the-box thinker, to make some unique, avant garde buildings.

The nice, orderly, symmetrical, ho-hum front of this building (below) is my design. The picture doesn’t do it justice, but Alex’s work in the back made the piece something I’d love to walk into. You’d look at this building and know it couldn’t house lame cubicles and tired government workers; it’d have to have frolicking unicorns grazing on levitating dewy grassy meadows, or adorable dwarf baby hippos serving dark chocolate bars while swaying their rotund hips to Latin beats.

Sky’s the limit for you, Al Pal. Sky’s the limit.

Honestly, if someone had been conducting a scientific observation of our 4 hours of engaged, relaxing, truly enjoyable time together (WHEN DOES THAT EVER HAPPEN?? THREE BOYS GOING 4 HOURS WITH NO PURPOSEFUL FARTS, STICK-WIELDING, WRESTLING, OR BLOOD?) they would surely have come to the only rational conclusion--that we were an alien family, sent from a much more highly evolved, civilized planet. We did have some nose-picking, but come on, it was damn near a miraculous event here, people.

It was such a long stretch of peaceful, unstructured yet purposeful, and enjoyable activity, and even though we were all outside together, I had quality, individual time with each of my three favorite people in the world.

Who knew that a fall afternoon filled with blocks and boys would end up being one of the highlights of my life? The universe surely smiled down upon me today, and I've done quite a bit of smiling up at it ever since.

Survivorman

2011-10-01T16:01:00.000-06:00

My husband's keen interest in wilderness survival skills have clearly been passed down to this kid; just check out this post-battle scene...

I guess we know the answer to the two essential items Kenyon would choose if he were stranded on a desert island. Microphone? Check. Nail clippers? Check.

This ferocious wild animal was clearly no match for those wisely chosen tools, and the skilled outdoorsman now rests his weary body. Stuffed dog roasted over a campfire will make a mighty fine meal.

Are We There Yet?

2011-10-01T07:36:00.002-06:00

The longest flight I've ever been on to date is the Denver-London trip I took eleven years ago to be an au pair for the summer. I settled in, wearing my travel socks, read ~~deep, philosophical literature~~ trashy celebrity magazines, and happily ate biscuits with clotted cream. My upcoming flight to Australia will be slightly different. How, you ask? Well, I'm no geographer, but my son's talking plastic globe matter-of-factly states the distance between the United States and Australia is 4,028,477 miles. I may be exaggerating a teensy bit, but it's a heck of a long way away. The globe doesn't include this little piece of information, but it's basically the same distance of traveling to the moon, give or take a few miles.

Also? I'll have a husband and three children under the age of 9 on the flight with me. You might be thinking, "Ahhh, her husband will be with her so they can help each other out with the kids." Well, dear reader, what you don't know is that my husband has a heretofore undiagnosed medical condition called Airplane Narcolepsy. Immediately upon sitting in an airplane seat and buckling his seatbelt, my husband's head tilts back, his lips part slightly, and he falls asleep. Even the most concentrated poison dart looks coming from me are no match for this debilitating condition.

That being said, our tickets for the year abroad are booked--and despite the ungodly amount of time we'll be traveling, I'm PSYCHED. Here's the plan...

After spending a few days with my husband's family a couple hours north of San Francisco, we'll fly from San Francisco down to Los Angeles on Christmas Eve. At 10pm, the adventure begins as we board a plane to......drumroll please......Fiji!! As a family of five, international plane tickets add up quickly so unless ~~a long-lost wealthy uncle passes away~~ we get some screamin' deal, once we're there we won't be able to fly to other countries (or even within Australia, for that matter). But--building in a 5-day stopover in Fiji only added $100 to each ticket, so it was a no-brainer to break up the traveling time and get in a few days in a new place.

And get this--because we're doing an overnight flight and crossing the International Date Line, we leave the evening of Dec. 24 and we arrive in Fiji at 5am on Dec. 26th. Christmas ceases to exist this year for our family--pure genius! The boys, however, are very concerned about how Santa will manage to deliver their stocking gifts; theories abound, including Santa coming in through the emergency exit or that Santa will be disguised as one of the passengers on the plane. Alex said he'll be keeping his stocking right on his lap during the flight, and expects to wake up because of its weight on him, laden with gifts. I told them that Santa knows we'll be traveling, so I'm sure he'll work something out (and I'm trying to figure out how the heck I'm going to manage having their stockings filled with goodies and laid out all Santa-like upon our arrival at our condo in addition to the wee task of packing my family up for a year halfway around the world). I know we'll have a lot of amazing distractions so we'll thankfully avoid a gift-heavy holiday, and besides, Jackson told me recently that his favorite part about Christmas stockings is getting PEZ. If that's the highlight of his Christmas, I think I can swing that much.

Maybe it's because I don't get the opportunity to travel to new places very often, but I absolutely love scouring the internet for unique places to stay and great deals for experiencing what the area has to offer. And no offense to those travelers who immediately scope out the nearest Burger King while abroad, but I love experiencing life differently when I'm in a new place.

We're traveling on Air Pacific, which has some fairly terrible reviews (yay for bargain travel!), so I figure we'll be more than ready for a little beach luxury after peeling our scraggly selves off the worn airplane seats. I booked us a one-night stay in a beachfront bure where we will stretch our legs, lounge, and swim with this view.

This photo of Uprising Beach Resort is courtesy of TripAdvisor

Not. bad.

We'll fall asleep to the sound of the ocean in our bure, which looks like this--

and since we're living the island life, we'll shower under the stars in this open outdoor shower.

This photo of Uprising Beach Resort is courtesy of TripAdvisor

And for $135 bucks for the night, it's a total bargain--I've paid more than $135 for a disgusting hotel with a dead rabbit in the parking lot and a condom wrapper stuck to the side of the building in Winnamucca, Nevada on one of our past Colorado-California road trips.

Tempting as it looks, I'm not interested in remaining at a typical resort for our entire stay in Fiji. I'd like to get a sense of how people really live there, instead of seeing a resort's contrived Fire Walking Cultural performance or some such nonsense. I'd like the boys to get a feel for a different culture as well. So for the next few nights, we're doing a homestay--staying with a Fijian family in a village of about 400 inhabitants. There, we can play with the village kids, tour the coastline by horseback, go spearfishing, hunt for octopus (there could not be an activity more appealing to my three boys than this very one)...

visit the local school...

and enjoy fresh local food. The accommodations are much, much more simple than a typical resort, but I'm hoping the experience will in turn be much, much more memorable. From there, we'll have a hop, skip and a jump of a 4 hour flight over to Sydney on New Year's Eve, starting the new year together and a year of adventure.

Oh, Fiji. You are my dangling, juicy carrot as I muddle through The Preparations (and yes, I'm capitalizing it from here on out, to show its daunting, formidable nature.)

Wordless Wednesday--Cute Overload

2011-09-28T12:35:00.003-06:00

Three-year old boy + homemade cookies + a mother's slight bias= the cutest picture EVER

photo credit: Jerry Goff

Progress Towards Down Under

2011-09-27T18:00:00.000-06:00

In 12 short weeks, our family of five will board a plane bound for northern California to spend some time with my husband's family out in the redwoods. We've taken this trip many times, but the only difference between this trip and others we have been on is that from there, we're flying halfway around the world to live for a year.

Now, I'm all about to-do lists, but there's so much stuff to do to prepare that even the to-do list seems daunting to manage. We're not just leaving our home, but the Australian family we're exchanging with will be living in it as well.

We've been tackling some house projects, because our 106-year old home has some, shall we say, quirks. I love character, and our house has plenty of it, but does a leaky faucet add character? How about a rotting windowsill in the upstairs bathroom shower? Ummmm...looking around the house and glancing down at my WWTAFT (What Would The Australian Family Think?) bracelet, I knew we had our work cut out for us.

I'm happy to report that we performed some amateur surgery and gave the house a mini-facelift. The trim had always been primer-white, so we toned it down with a cream color with plum and green accents. I think the plum on the floor of the porch looks great, and the porch ceiling is a lighter purple. I thought this would be a quick project, but I conveniently forgot that sanding peeling paint, taping, and priming the billions of posts in the railing had to happen before the actual application of the new color. It was endless. Before and after pictures don't look too drastically different, but the in-person experience is waaaaaay enhanced. Phase 2, which includes the trim around the windows and soffits, will happen AA (After Australia).

Before


After

porch showing the column detail and ceiling

We also took care of the leaky faucet, continued work on the tree fort outside, and have been making strides to get rid of clutter. Our youngest child will be nearing 5 years old when we return, so we're purging little kid toys, books, and equipment. The rotting windowsill has been rebuilt and repainted, a relatively quick fix that should last at least until our return. I painted the bathroom trim to match the window, so while I had the painting vibe I just went ahead and painted the rest of upstairs bathroom last night because ~~I'm a crazy person~~ I had nothing better to do.

The house is whipping itself into shape. But a spiffy house doesn't get a family of five to Australia for a year. Sam is incapable of handling any sort of paperwork, so I dutifully filled out our visa application, made sure we had additional passport photos and attached the requisite proof that these children are actually ours, that Sam and I are actually bound for life by marriage, etc.

Cross your fingers that the visas will be approved on time, because they supposedly take about 12 weeks and I sent mine out just 2 weeks ago. That's not much wiggle room for dealing with the snail's pace of the US federal government...

Ode to Reading

2011-09-23T09:52:00.002-06:00

As the youngest brother, Kenyon keeps a keen eye on the older two. As with many youngest siblings, we're seeing that this place in the family is producing a 3 and a half year old with some advanced skills. Now, many of these skills aren't necessarily the ones you think about when you fondly picture older siblings bestowing their knowledge upon their younger counterparts. One such recent skill--farting on demand--has had disastrous results of which I'll spare you the details. But--some very delightful skills are passed along as well. Kenyon has the benefit of having his brothers model their curiosity for the world and love of learning; in particular, a love of reading.

Jackson, at 8 years old, is a self-proclaimed Harry Potter expert, having read the series backwards and forwards. He is now immersed in the tales of Percy Jackson. Alex, at 6 years old, is just shy of finishing the 4th Harry Potter book. Our dinner table conversation is often sprinkled with Harry Potter trivia challenges shot back and forth between these two, each one trying to best the other. It's also sprinkled with us saying that knees should not be visible at the table, that bubbles shouldn't be blown into milk, and that food should stay on their plates, but I digress....

Our Friday afternoons unfailingly include a trip to the Park Hill library to stock up on fresh supplies to start our weekend. Each of us leave with armfuls of books and books on tape, arrive home, and I watch from a safe distance while they pounce on the stack like wolves.

If Kenyon is anything like the readers that his brothers are, I'd be thrilled (and I may begrudgingly accept the less-tolerable skills they've handed down.............Okay, it's doubtful, but I don't know if I have any choice.).

side note--if you have very young children and haven't yet heard of BOB books, trust me--just go ahead and buy them. I typically heavily favor library rental, but in this case it's worth the purchase. Here--I've made it easy for you. The link to the first series (currently on sale!) on Amazon is here (and I have not been compensated by anyone for writing this). Be forewarned--no thrilling plot lines or witty characters grace these pages, but they are the ideal very first books for kids to gain confidence in their ability to read.

Last month, I set off on a hunt for the elusive BOB book series that was rumored to be hiding in the wily depths of our basement storage space. I happy to report that I completed the mission, narrowly escaping an untimely death by teetering stack of paint cans. I dusted off the trusty Set 1 of the BOB books which helped my other sons identify themselves as readers and gauged Kenyon's interest in reading. He got through a couple of pages but he didn't really have the stamina for more than that, so I didn't push it and they sat for a while, untouched on the living room bookshelf.

Shortly after we woke up on a recent Sunday morning, Kenyon randomly asked me if he should read a BOB book. I responded that it was a great idea, and we cozied up on the couch. The first book contains just four letters and short vowel sounds, but still, he read the whole book (and the second one as well) and was so proud! A brief video of Kenyon's first real attempt at reading a page is below for your viewing pleasure...

Tour de Fat!

2011-09-22T21:39:00.000-06:00

Now that our family has upped the number of non-training wheel bike riders to four, we decided to participate in this year's Tour de Fat. Although this awesome yearly event was created by a competing brewery *cough cough* New Belgium *cough cough*, and to be honest I'm not a fan of their beer at all, I have to say they put on one hell of a fun event, right in our beloved City Park. What could be better than a costumed bike parade through the beautiful city streets of Denver with friends, followed by a fun festival in the park?

the start of the parade (Alex is in the lower right hand corner with the yellow t-shirt and lucha libre mask)

The 5.8 mile bike was the boys' longest, and they had a blast. Thankfully, Kenyon was tucked into the Burley attached to Sam's bike, because keeping an eye on three boys on wheels amongst the costumed frenzy would have been an impossible feat.

Here are some glimpses of the day, in pictures…

We wove our way through City Park, Uptown, Cheeseman Park, and downtown, passing some of my favorite buildings. I really love Denver…

Back at the park, there was an area set up where daring festivalgoers could try out all sorts of oddball bike contraptions…

The boys and their friends, dressed for the occasion.

For any of you out there who live in San Francisco, San Diego, LA, Tempe, or Austin--a Tour de Fat is still coming your way, so check out the upcoming tour dates.