2011 wrap up

Hi bloggers.

Life at another level has been on hiatus over the Christmas season, for the simple reason that I haven't had access to a computer and writing a post on the iPhone proves to be a bit of a pain. The last thing I wrote (which I've since edited) ended up publishing the photo and nothing else so I decided not to do it again. That's not to say that I don't get in here and read. I do. It's a lot easier.

Christmas was interesting. I'll give it that. It was a day of doggedly accepting things that I couldn't change and choosing a good attitude about it. It started with us all getting up early and opening gifts together, which was lovely. Then the kids went off with their Dad over to the other side of the city to have Christmas lunch with his family. I was here on my own, dancing around to 80's music, eating fruit and toast for lunch, cleaning the house and preparing food for the dinner with my side of the family at 5pm. Like I said, I chose to be happy despite the strangeness of it all. I mean, what would have been the point of being all morose about it? It didn't feel like Christmas so I kind of treated it as just another day until the kids got home.

Christmas for me started when the kids got home and we all headed off to my sisters and partook of a delicious feast with ALL of my brothers, sisters, their partners and kids. We haven't had that for a very long time and normally I would be over the moon, excited about the fact that we were finally all together if it wasn't for my brother's wife and his two daughters aged 16 and 14. Honestly folks, the sour look on their three faces made me think they all had a reindeer up their butts. Their whole demeanour just screamed, "We hate you all and we don't want to be here!" Don't ask me what the problem is. It's always been that way. The rest of us have tried with them, have always been friendly and accepting, have even tried to get to the bottom of what is is that bothers them but to no avail. It was very hard. I have a photo of them that captures their whole attitude but I won't post it because 1. It upsets me; and 2. Because, despite everything, I still respect their privacy.

Anyhow......the rest of us enjoyed being together. It was feasting and fun and Christmas.

Now we're on the final leg of what has proved to be an extremely difficult year. I won't be sad to see it go. Not at all. I head into 2012 cautiously, knowing that it's a blank canvas and has a lot of potential, but also knowing that it's going to have a bit of a rough start with Georgia's spinal fusion scheduled for January 27 and then the best part of the year recovering.

I have no real resolutions for next year, just things I would like to achieve. The first being that I would like to make gifts for people next year. Birthday gifts will be hand made by me, as well as gifts to welcome new babies, thank you gifts and, (hopefully) Christmas gifts.

The second is that I want to be kind to myself next year.  I've spent the better part of my adult life (starting from the age of 19) putting myself last, making sure the needs and wants of others are taken care of first and then surviving on that which is left over. I've lived in perpetual hope that it will come back to me in some way, but it never has. Some people have developed an expectation that I will just "take care of it" and bounce back.

Sadly, I've reached the end of 2011 with nothing in the tank and nothing in reserve (kind of like my iron levels). It's time to fill my own emotional tank. I think that's part of why I am actually so emotional at this time of the year. I've given out and there's no one giving back.

I'd like to expand my social horizons this coming year.. I want to join some sort of interest/hobby group, where we are all there because we have something in common...and hopefully some friendships will develop. Part of me hopes I meet someone new....although there's another part of me that's been so battered and bruised by my experiences in a relationship that I find myself believing that no one would find me interesting, let alone want to get to know me or (dare I say it) love me. When you've spent your adult life being told that you're just "to much" or "too needy" by the person who is supposed to love you you begin to believe them...especially when you get to the end of that relationship and you look around and realise that the friends you once had are long gone.

Farewell 2011. I'm tired. I'm glad you won't be back. You took a lot out of me and away from me. I hope 2012 will be better.

Christmas Eve Eve

It's almost here. As far as I know, all the gifts have neen purchased. Tonight I am planning to wrap everything and place them under the tree. Tomorrow night, being Christmas Eve, my family and I have been invited over to my best friends place for a lovely dinner with several other families from our church. I'm looking forward to it so much. It will be the first opportunity to just sit back and relax for a while. My friend Pam will undoubtedly have everything in hand and everything under control. She just loves preparing and serving delicious meals for a crowd. This is one aspect of our personalities where she and I are incredibly different. Normally she and I are uncannily alike with our likes and strengths . Not in this area though. She relishes entertaining whereas I become a nervous wreck, unsure of everything and scared I'll get it all wrong.

It's silly really. I don't know why I should doubt myself so much.

Anyway I just thought I would spend this moment wishing you all a very happy Christmas. I hope you all have a wonderfull day. Thank you for your support and encouragement whilst I find my feet and my bloggin g voice. I'm still learning.

See you soon.

The start of 2012

It looks as though 2012 is already shaping up to be an interesting year. I'm not going to say good, or great, or fantastic. Interesting.
I got the job. It's strange. Whenever I get something that I really want I am so ecstatic about it I feel as though I'll burst. Then comes the next day and I start to worry. I'm taking a significant pay cut so I'm starting to worry about that. Then I noticed that for now I'm rostered for 25 hours a week. That's 3 more hours than I do now so it's manageable but is the cut in pay going to be a problem? I know I can do poor. Heck I've done poor all my life! I know how to feed 5 people for a week with $50!
On the upside though are all the reasons I wanted the job in the first place. Not for the money but for the fact that it's in childcare; where I've wanted to be all along. It's what I've trained for, it's where my heart lies. It's also local, in my home town. I get in the car, drive a maximum of ten minutes and I'm there, no more city commute which, on a good day, is a two hour round trip.
I'm close to my home. I'm close to most of my kids which will be really important next year, especially for Georgia.
See, Georgia's having a spinal fusion next year - at the end of January actually. This is a big thing. We spent the best part of today at the Royal Children's Hospital doing all the pre-admission tests - blood work, heart and lung function tests, photos, anaesthetic review and talking with the surgeon. She's all set to go. We just need a date. She'll be in surgery for up to five hours, in hospital for a week and then spending the most of next year recovering.
So, that's my biggest reason for needing to be close to home. I need to work, there's no doubt about it, but I also need to be close by so that if Georgia needs me I'm only five minutes away.
So I guess you could say I'm pretty mixed about 2012. That's why I'm saying that it's shaping up to be interesting. Already it will bring changes. It remains to be seen how these changes will play out.

The constant need to prove...

I had a job interview yesterday. Actually, it was my second interview for this job. I don't know how I did. I'm REALLY kicking myself that I didn't study the Early Years Learning Framework before I went so I  would have been more prepared. I don't know if I won't get the job because I know very little about it. Gee I hope it's not the thing that kills it for me..

This interview has really got me thinking though about how tired I am of the constant battle to prove myself. I know everyone does it in some form or another. We all have to go to interviews and practically sell ourselves, proving to the potential employer that you above all the other applicants are the one they want. But what about if you feel as though you have to prove yourself every day because you are "different". Going into this interview simply highlighted that for me. I have to prove that despite the fact that I am 117cm tall I am still more than capable of looking after babies and toddlers who, in a few short years, will be taller than me and are already half my height if not as tall as me. I have to explain to the employer how I will change the nappy of an 18 month old when putting them on the change table will be "dangerous" to them and me. I have to help the employer work out a way for me to access door handles that are "kid proof" and therefore unreachable. I have to convince them that I can do it...all of it....even what they at first glance think is impossible. And then after that, if I am employed there, I have to daily prove to the parents of the children that their little ones are safe with me, that they're not going to run roughshod over me and be uncontrollable. That I know my stuff, that I can handle their children's tantrums and accidents and that I'm able to comfort them if they are scared and sad.

But I also have to prove that I'm capable in everyday life too - holding down a job, looking after my house, changing the oil and water in my car and filling it with petrol/gas, carrying heavy items, doing my shopping.

Maybe I don't have to prove it? Maybe this is just something I have created in my own mind? Maybe people are just watching, fascinated to see exactly how I do things, rather than wondering IF I can?

Still, I had a heavy sense of having to prove myself in yesterdays interview, even though it was with people who have known me for the better part of 15 years. Maybe that's just the nature of interviews...but at the same time, a couple of those people have also witnessed how I have handled (and sometimes not handled)extremely stressful and trying circumstances over those years.

Gee I hope I get this job. I want it more than you could possibly imagine.

White

On Saturday I went to my very first, honest-to-God, no-doubt-about it White Wedding. I've possibly been to one other but I can't really be sure. No, this bride was not 16, or 18. She was 27.

You know what? There was just something so innocent, so sweet, so....joyous about the celebration. I know all weddings are supposed to be but there was just something special about this one. I was genuinely thrilled for these two beautiful people. There was no time for regrets, no time for wishing that things were different. Every thought was focussed upon the bride and groom and sending them every good thought and wish for their life together. I know that their white wedding doesn't automatically guarantee that their life will always be rosy. They will still have their hard times. I just hope that they will learn that love is a verb, that love is a decision you make every day - despite your feelings, that there will be days where the feelings are definitely not there and, as the pastor said, they will find themselves wondering, "How can someone so beautiful also be so STUPID!" :)

Because loving someone can often be hard, and it's the little things that were so endearing in the beginning that make you want to scream ten+ years down the track. In the beginning you overlook all the crazy little things that are slightly annoying but endearing at the same time because you are so head over heels and besotted with this person who seems to have dropped right out of heaven into your world just to make you happy. Sooner or later though reality hits and you are daily dealing with these things that were once slightly annoying and have now become a major issue and threaten to send you totally around the bend.

I love listening to married couples like my parents who have been together for well over 40 years. I love listening to their stories of how they have weathered the hard times and come out the other side stronger and more committed to each other than ever before. I look back on my parents marriage and see the example they set. I never really saw fights and arguments. I never heard my parents yelling and screaming at each other. I do know that there were really hard times though - health issues, terrible financial stresses, raising 7 children on only one income, seeing 7 children through the teen years. I know that there were times of terrible tension between the two of them, but somehow the tensions were resolved and I never knew how or why. I should sit with Mum and ask her actually.....I'm sure I could learn a few things.....

I look at Mum and Dad and I see a deep love between the two of them that isn't demonstrated by open public displays of affection but by the way in which they relate to each other on a daily basis. I know my Dad thinks my mother is the most beautiful woman in the world and pretty much adores the ground she walks on...but he never says it.....I just KNOW it. Mum, in turn, loves and respects Dad in a beautiful way. She is behind him 100% in everything he does...even if she may not necessarily agree with him. She is there, supporting him and encouraging him...never, ever saying, "I told you so!" or "Well that was stupid!" if things go wrong. She just hangs in there with him. All the time.

I hope our newly married couple from the weekend can have something like that. The world needs more couples like my Mum and Dad.

Bed blog

I'm blogging from the safety of my bed this morning. It's 7:02am and I"ve been awake for 75 minutes already. I woke at my usual time of 5:45am. It's funny how your body and brain creates a routine for you even when you don't need it to. I"ve stayed in bed though. I really don't want to get up. The brain just doesn't want to. I'm worn out.

The reason for this is because Georgia, The Man and I spent yesterday at the new Royal Children's Hospital in Melbourne. It was the first time we'd seen it. After 25 years of knowing the old hospital intimately we ventured into the new, fresh, modern, high-tech wonder that is the new hospital. Amazing! We only got to see the ground floor and we're already impressed. It's aesthetically beautiful. Truly.

Despite this, it's still hospital and yesterday we received news that we really didn't want to hear. Georgia is on the waiting list for spinal surgery. She has a scoliosis - a sideways curve of the spine. Quite a severe one actually. It developed rapidly during puberty and continues to develop despite the fact that G has pretty much stopped growing. In June it was at 73 degrees. Yesterday it measured 90 degrees. There's now no more wondering if surgery is an option. It's now a necessity. Even the surgeon doesn't want her to wait past another 6 months. Too much further and we'll be watching heart and lung function.

I'm not scared. G's not scared either. We're not on panic stations at the moment. Currently she's healthy and strong and there is still some pleasing flexibility in her spine which means that the results if surgery will be really good. What we do feel though is a sense of being beaten. We have endured more surgeries in this family than I really want to write about. G has herself had seven. This will be her eighth - and biggest. Getting both legs broken in two different places and held together with Ilizarov frames when she was only 4 is a walk in the park compared to this. A spinal fusion, according to our chiropractor, is one of the biggest things you can do. We've done fusions before. Sarah and Chloe have had them. We walked into them blind, not fully realizing the implications of what we were doing. Of course back then we had no choice either...but we weren't fully informed. This time we are. Sometimes having all this knowledge and understanding isn't such a great thing....it's still just as confusing.

I know we're doing the right thing but that doesn't make us any less confused or scared or unsure. We know what's ahead, but we're doing it anyway. I'd do anything, absolutely anything, to be able to take this from her; for it to be me on that operating table, not her. It's not though. It's her. All I can do is help her understand, to hold her hand once again as she slips into the nowhere place of anesthetic "sleep", to be the reassuring face when she wakes, to support when she's not herself on all the morphine, to bathe and dress when she can't do it for herself, to encourage during physio, to pretend that I'm not scared at all when inside I'm terrified. See, spinal surgery for us hasn't always gone as planned....

But for now, we wait. We do Christmas. We have school holidays and we have fun. We live as though this isn't coming. We live in spite of this. We possibly live more intensely, sucking up every fun moment that is summer. Next summer the surgery will be all but a memory. There'll be changes to make but at least it will be over. For now, we have this summer. Let's make it a good one!

A bit of Bing

I'm glad to say that Christmas shopping is almost finished. I've discovered that for some reason I can't seem to do it on my own lately. If there's no one with me I tend to just aimlessly wander the shops without any stroke of inspiration at all, however if I have someone like Chloe with me (who, by the way, is an awesome and decisive shopper!) I am ok and get things done. I think maybe this is more a reflection of a mind that is simply on overload than anything else. I'll be glad when this year is over.

We also have our Christmas Tree up and decorated - very late this year, but it's done. Our tradition is decorating the tree to the dulcet tones of Bing Crosby singing all sorts of Christmas carols and reciting the story of Small One the donkey. I don't know when this tradition first started, but it's now become our tradition and we love it. The CD starts off with White Christmas and ends with the story of Small One. Funny thing is that my kids have never seen the movie White Christmas so this week I'm on a mission to buy it to add to our collection. You gotta love a bit of Bing at Christmas. Add to that the gorgeous Danny Kaye and you've got just about the best Christmas movie ever! (or so my chilhood memory tells me. I haven't seen it since I was about 10!)

Christmas Day looks as though it's gearing up to be a good one. It seems as though ALL of my brothers and sisters will be there at my sisters house for a Christmas celebration. That means that all seven of us, plus partners, plus kids which should add up to a gathering of about.....30 people. Good times! I'm looking forward to it!

Tomorrow! Tomorrow! I love ya, Tomorrow!

Fridays.

I look forward to Fridays in the same way a five year old looks forward to Christmas. Friday is my day where I don't go to work. Nope! I don't have to get in the car and tackle the Monash Carpark Freeway or St Kilda Rd, or anything. I am not at my usual place of paid employment. I'm a free agent.

Not that Friday is my day to kick back or relax or anything. Far from it. Friday is the day where I schedule appointments and cram as much as I can into the 24 hours that Friday encompasses. Tomorrow won't be any different...however for the first time in a while I will have the house to myself for several hours. Do you have any idea how much I am looking forward to this? Hours to just go crazy with cleaning and tidying and restoring peace and order to the mess.

I've also seriously got to spend some time Christmas shopping. There are only 17 days to go and I have only managed to buy one gift. Just one. I'm kind of starting to freak out a little. I had grandiose plans of making my girls a crochet afghan each for Christmas but there's no way on God's green earth that's going to happen - unless I dedicate every waking moment to crochet....which is impossible. I wish I could though. Anyway, this means that I have to get off my keister and go down to the shops and find things suitable for a 24 year old, a 21 year old, a 20 year old and a 15 year old. Any suggestions?

One day I am going to do what I resolve every year and start my Christmas shopping in July, or by September and the VERY latest. At least then I have money courtesy of Mr Taxman. I resolve every year that I will do it but like all New Years Resolutions it falls by the wayside, along with the resolve to stop swearing, blog on a daily basis and finish all the unfinished quilts lurking in the cupboard.

So, tomorrow being Friday I will resolve to get each of my kids sorted. We're having a simple Christmas this year - clothes and things they need. Surely I can get that done?

Wordless Wednesday - Lunch break

Scenes from my afternoon lunch break in sunny South Melbourne.

Participating in Wordless Wednesday with Faith Hope & a whole lotta love.

Future Kids

Yesterday my family and I went to the annual Victorian SSPA Family Christmas Picnic. Despite windy, cold weather it was a lovely day.

I was astounded at the number of families who were there. So many of them! All of the children were no older than 10 years old. There were a couple of families there with babies under 6 months - all new little ones with a dwarfing condition.

I loved watching the little ones run around and play together. As I watched I thought, "Was I ever that cute?" Honestly, your heart just melts. I watched as new friendships were formed between the children and the parents got to spend time together chatting, catching up and gaining that reassurance and understanding that only a support group such as ours can offer. I spent time with some of the new parents with babies newly diagnosed with achondroplasia. I love listening to their stories...from when they first learned of the condition of their baby, through to acceptance and to where they are today. It's both heart-wrenching and exhilarating. One theme runs true though - that everything turns out ok in the end, that things aren't scary and as bad as they thought and that they are so in love with and proud of their child just the way he/she is. I love answering their questions. I love the hope I see in their eyes as they look around at the group, seeing short statured children running around having a ball, adult people with short stature living fun and fulfilling, purposeful lives and other families just like them who are able to relate to where they're at.

I watched those little ones running around and realised I was looking at the SSPA's future. My hope for them is that they are able to take it further than we have, that they will achieve more than we did, that they will also show the world that we're just regular people in a smaller body.

I wanted to take lots of photos to capture the goodness of yesterday but I didn't. Somehow I knew that these families needed their privacy. For a short while at an SSPA event you're just part of a crowd. You're not different, you're not unusual. You're just part of the group. I wanted to preserve that for them. I know how much I crave anonymity and invisibility when I'm out in public so I wanted to at least give them that respect.

Oh but the cuteness!!!

Pizza night

Last night my brother invited us all over for a pizza night at his place. No, we don't order pizzas in. Lane cooks the pizzas from scratch, from the dough to the toppings. The result is a wonderful smorgasbord of delicious pizzas that are devoured within minutes of coming out of the oven, accompanied by a multitude of salads brought along by the rest of us and washed down with some beautiful wine.

These nights with my family are my favorite times. Our kids all get on really well and enjoy spending time together. We, as siblings, just sit around and talk and laugh. It's great.

Times with my family centers and grounds me again. It's as though I come back to the place where I find myself again. All facades fall away, the public face goes and I am just me; accepted and loved and a part of something good. I don't have to try, there's no effort involved. I just....be.

It's like coming home, even though there's now no longer a family home to come to. The home is the family and wherever the family gathers. When my parents sold the family home I was scared I'd feel homeless, but I don't. Home is wherever we all are.

Sent from my iPhone

Let's Play A-Z

Playing along with Faith Hope & a whole lotta love.

A. Age - 44
B. Bed - Double
C. Chore that you hate - Ironing, closely followed by washing dishes.
D. Dogs - Maya, my 4 year old Cavalier King Charles Spaniel - blenheim. (white and tan)
E. Essential start to your day - Jogging and a cup of tea. (not at the same time)
F. Favorite Colour - green
G. Gold or silver? Silver
H. Height? 117cm
I. Instruments you play - Does the air drum count? Otherwise, none.
J. Job Title - Administration Assistant and general dogsbody
K. Kids - 3 grown ups and one teenager
L. Live - In south east Melbourne - right on the fringe.
M. Mothers name - Sue
N. Nicknames - Leis' and Prowdy
O. Overnight Hospital Stays - Teeth pulled when I was about 10, several nights following all of my 4 c-sections.
P. Pet peeves - people without a permit parking in disabled access parking OR delivery people and tradies parking there.
Q. Quote from a movie: "I hear them! I hear them Daddy I do!" (from Prancer)
R. Right or Left Handed? Right
S. Siblings - two brothers and four sisters. (all younger)
T. Time you wake up? 5:45am when the alarm goes off.
U. Underwear - whatever's comfortable.
V. Vegetable you hate - peas
W. What makes you run late? Traffic. I leave on time but the Monash carpark Freeway is a shocker.
X. X-rays you've had - I recently had a full spinal series done for my chiropractor, other than that, one on my arm when I was a teen and a full body set done when I was a baby and again when I was six.
Y. Yummy food that you make - Chilli concarne, Tomato and lentil soup, Apricot Coconut Slice
Z. Zoo animal - I love the giraffe. Such beautiful eyes.

Bubble

I love bubbles. So beautiful and fragile and temporary, filled with lots of enjoyment if only for a brief moment. And that's the thing I'm trying to remember. Just enjoy this beautiful moment for what it is. Who knows how long it will last? Who knows how long all these good things that are happening will continue? However, I'm not going to worry about that. I am just going to suck every last drop of goodness out of this time we're having. I'm going to marvel at it, look at it's beauty and appreciate it.

Tim's interview at Coles went really well. They are going to give him full-time work experience. I don't know how long he will be there for but the point is he has a foot in the door and there are people who are willing to take him on board and train him. He's needed that all along - just someone who will come alongside of him and show him the way for a while. The look on his face is priceless. He is so excited, so full of hope. He can't wait to get his Learners Permit and start to learn to drive. I am so happy for him I just want to break out dancing in the streets.

Please bubble. Please stay for a while. I just need this time of peace and beauty to last for a while, just so that we can get a breather and regain some strength for what the New Year will bring us.

The return of happiness

Honestly, I don't really think happiness ever left. I just think I forgot to look for it. I guess with the slow demise of my marriage, not being well for a while, my daughter's impending spinal fusion operation and a few other things, I've been (once again) in survival mode; putting-one-foot-in-front-of-the-other mode and just going through the motions; being neither depressed nor happy....just doing life.

However, happiness has returned to Life At Another Level in the form of all my offspring being back home again under the one roof. Sarah returned home from Uni last Friday. She is home again for the Christmas break and will return to Uni sometime in February. I am excited about having her home again. Last weekend was filled with a lot of talking and laughing. Oh my goodness how we laughed. At one point I was rolling around on the floor with an aching belly I was laughing so much. Add to that the dog becoming very curious and excited and getting in my face and almost suffocating me...well.....you had to be there.

Things seem to be looking up. I'm almost scared to trust it though. Is that silly? Maybe it's just past experience, but I can tend to get almost suspicious when too many good things start happening and maybe I even look for someone to come along and pull the rug out from under my feet. Why is that? Maybe this time I just need to ride this wave for all it's worth and just be happy in the moment. Right here. Right now. Things are good right now. Maybe I should just make that enough,

"So Leisa, what's happening that's so great?"

I'm glad you asked.

1. Sarah is home.
2. We have found the most fabulous chiropractor. This is a BIG thing. After years and years of the false belief that people with bone dysplasia (or a dwarfing condition) should avoid chiropractors like the plague we have discovered that it's not all "bone cracking" and contorting the body into uncomfortable pretzel-like shapes, but is gentle and brings about a sense of wellbeing and relief from stress.
3. My son Tim has an interview for some work experience down at our local Coles Supermarket. This is happening right at this very minute. There is a chance that this will lead to paid employment but even if it doesn't at least it will give him a foot in the door, some experience and a reference for his resume.
4. Tim is also going for his Learners Permit on Friday. Another great step towards his independence.
5. I have a job interview on Friday at a new childcare centre opening up in my local area. I'm feeling kind of confident about this as it's a centre being set up by my church. I submitted my resume to the director this morning (she has never met me) and within 2 minutes of driving down the road she called me and asked me if I could come in for an interview on Friday. I am hoping beyond hope that I'm selected as I am really passionate about Early Childhood (I'm trained) and I am desperate to work in my local area rather than commute into the city for an hour every day.
6. My parents are back home after eight months of being on the road. All is well with the world again.

So! They are the good things happening right now. Please God! Just let it all keep happening. We need a break. We really do. Just a little break. Huh?

In any case, I'm choosing to look for happiness. I'm not looking for happiness as my goal. I choose happiness, despite uncertainty, despite worry, despite everything. It's a choice and I choose it. I'm not going to deny the stresses because they are there. I'm not going to pretend things are all hunky dory when they're not, but I am going to look for the calm, peaceful bits in the storm so that the storm isn't so hard to weather.

What? Thursday already?

This week has gone by so quickly. I thought it would drag seeing that I had most of last week off with the lurgy, but it has gone by incredibly fast to the point where I can't quite remember what I've been up to. I know there were school runs and lots of work to do involving my workplace's Annual General Meeting coming up next Monday. I know there was a chiropractic appointment because that only happened yesterday. I also know there was a lot of waiting around in traffic jams on the joke that is the Monash "Freeway". Don't let me get on my high horse ranting about living in the fastest growing area in Australia and not having the infrastructure to cope. Don't let me rant about Eastlink being so expensive to use that no one uses it which is why the Monash is so gridlocked......

No...I promise I won't rant about it!

Lucky I have had my brother's collection of Tom Petty CD's to keep me company. Lane has let me borrow his entire collection, which amounts to a total of about 20 CD's. He wants me to become more acquainted with the legend that is Tom Petty and so far I'm loving every note. Lane has these phases where he becomes obsessively interested in a particular artist and buys all the CD's, reads autobiographies and interviews with the artist so that he can learn more about the music. Lane's a bit of a musician himself, playing keyboard (self taught), guitar and drums (also self taught). I used to be in awe of him when we were children. Only Lane could listen to a particular song at church, come home and start playing it on the keyboard without being able to read a note of music. He can read music now, but I'm sure he plays a lot of music by ear.

Tomorrow I'm driving up to Ballarat for the day. (more Tom Petty!) My daughter Sarah, who has been a student in Ballarat this year, has to move out of her student accommodation for the holidays and come back home for six weeks. I am excited about this. It will be wonderful to have her home again, although I am also kind of expecting it to be different now because she has been living on her own for the year and will have developed independence and her own way of doing things which may be completely different to my own. I think things will be fine for the most part, but I expect that there will be a period of adjustment for all of us. Still, I can't wait to have her home.

I'm still crocheting. I haven't been able to do as much as I would like but it's progressing. I'm enjoying it so much that I want to crochet my girls a Granny Square Afghan each for Christmas - so I'd best get cracking!

I hope everyone else out there has had a good week!

My weekend in pictures (and words!)

What  a weekend I had! Despite the fact that I was still recovering from my lurgy (which is still hanging on by the way. I have a killer deep, throaty voice to the point I could hire myself out as one of "those" phone operators!) I had a busy, fun-filled weekend.

It started on Saturday morning when I took Georgia down to have her nose pierced....

Behind that pink door was where the action was happening!

Ta-dah!

Yes, I let my 15 and a half year old daughter to have her nose (tastefully) pierced. If she asked for her eyebrow, lip, Monroe or anything else (other than her ears) pierced the answer would have been different. She is very happy with it and said she expected a lot of pain but was pleasantly surprised by how quick and relatively pain-free it was. (but then again, this kid has had both her legs broken in two places TWICE so she knows what pain is!)

On Sunday the four of us headed down to the beach....just because we could.

Beach boxes at Mt Martha - our favorite beach.

Yes....it was windy!

The day was not yet over. Later on that evening I headed down to my brother Lane's place and, together with his lovely wife Geraldine and my gorgeous niece Erica we went to the Mornington Racecourse.........

Lane, Geraldine and Erica

To see..........

Dave Stewart (ex-Eurythmics for those of you who missed the 80's and have no idea who this talented man is!)

He doesn't sing much...lets the "backing vocalists" do it for him. She was brilliant! If I remember correctly they're doing "Sweet Dreams (are made of this)" here.

He may not sing much but he can sure play a guitar!

AND

I was 2m away from her!!! (she's so little)

"Edge of Seventeen" - one of the many fantastic songs she performed.

STEVIE NICKS!

Lane and I were just blown away by the fact that a big name star was playing at the Mornington Racecourse - locally! It was freezing cold (and Stevie went without her traditional many costume changes due to the weather) but we didn't care. Lane and I would sit through a snow storm to see Stevie.

Going to see Dave and Stevie meant that I spent money I really shouldn't have but.....gosh it was worth it! I spent time with people I loved, I drank a little too much wine, I sang songs I loved, I danced......and all of a sudden I knew I was going to be ok. There is still so much life to be had.....so many things to see, appreciate and enjoy.

Music has always done that for me. Musicians and songwriters express things for me that I am unable to articulate. Listening to other people's music and singing their lyrics helps me to express and release emotions and thoughts that I can't seem to do on my own. Sitting at that concert I felt such a sense of calm and positivity. All was well....and that feeling has continued into this week so far.

I am ok.

Catching up whilst resting

Hi everyone,

I really do need to get back onto this blogging business and get serious. I'd love to blog every day but with the lack of my own computer I'm kind of limited to using my iPhone or my work computer.

This week I have been at home with a virus. For the first time ever I have chosen not to just soldier on but have been kind to myself and my body and stayed home. Oh yes, the guilt is hounding me with it's accusations of, "You're not that sick. You could get to work!" but with a stuffy head, constantly sniffing and sneezing and coughing I decided to be a bit selfish and not share my germs with my work colleagues.

So, what's been happening here on Another Level?

It would have been my 24th wedding anniversary on Monday. I was kind of conflicted. On one hand I wanted him to text me and mention it, on the other hand I didn't because...well...what's there to celebrate or mention? I wanted it to matter to him I guess. The day went by without a mention from anyone...and I survived...and was kind of peaceful even. The next day was Tuesday and I stayed at home due to being sick. He came over for some reason...and said, "You should do something good for yourself today." "Why?" I asked....then I realised...he thought our anniversary was Tuesday.  I just said, "No, that was yesterday," and left it at that. He'd gotten his days mixed up. *shrugs*

I'm doing ok. I find that the less I see him the easier it gets. It's not that I don't want to see him. I still love the guy, but I now know that this really is over and I do better if I remain separate from him. Falling in love with someone is easy. Nobody ever tells you that trying not to be in love with them is one of the hardest things; that trying to finish off your life together is like an amputation.

Yesterday I officially became the registered owner of my first car. Yes! I now actually own a car! It's in MY name! After over 26 years of driving I can finally say that I own a car! With the separation, one of our cars was transfered into my name yesterday. I have to admit ro being a tad excited about this, and for some reason, the car that I usually see as sometimes temperamental and heavy to drive, became special to me...because she's officially mine!

Whilst having time off I have been crocheting like mad, making up Granny Squares. So far I have 20 squares done in white, deep pink, black and light pink. I'm pretty proud of them. Today Chloe and I went to Spotlight and she picked out some colors for her own crochet afghan.

Chloe likes earthy colours.

I'm currently learning how to connect all the ones I have already done in white, pink, black and light pink. I love crochet. It's quick and easy and you can create something really beautiful in a relatively short amount of time.

I had wonderful news today. After 221 days on the road and 24,390km, my parents are back home! I am so happy. I've missed them so much since they left in April. All of a sudden the world seems like it's finally going to get back to normal again.

Sometimes I feel kind of strange, still needing the comforting presence of my parents. I mean for goodness sake, I'm in my mid-40's for crying out loud. But need them I do. They seem to be an anchor in a world that doesn't make much sense to me sometimes.

Anti Bullying Week

It's Anti-Bullying Week so I thought I'd use my blog to bring some awareness as Cherie has done.

I have never been physically bullied, despite the fact that when you look at me I would be a prime target for physical bullying. I am eternally grateful for that.

I also feel that, for the most part, I had a really good life - maybe you might even call it "sheltered". My childhood was spent in little country towns where everyone knew everyone, our parents all went to school together and we all kind of looked out for each other. Primary school was fine for me....or maybe it's because I can only remember a lot of good stuff...like my Grade 3 teacher who would make me the captain of the Rounders Team or the cricket team so that I would get to choose a team, rather than ALWAYS be the kid who was chosen last because I was the littlest and (perhaps) least sporty. If anything I was possibly sometimes even babied and over-protected by the bigger kids. Sometimes I would be called "Shorty" but that memory doesn't bring any pain...so no, in Primary School I think I had it pretty good.

However, there were things that were said and done when I got older. Sometimes it can take just one incident to scar a person for life....and, as the banner says at the top of this post, words can hurt. But so too can silence...and it was the silence of a friend that hurt even more than the bullying words that were said.

In Year 9 at High School (so I was 14 I guess) I had a friend I simply adored. I would have done anything for her. She had a boyfriend who, in my mind at the time, was a bit of a dropkick. One day the three of us (I can't remember anyone else being there) were sitting in the library. For some reason, Dropkick started on me...

"You are so ugly."

"You have the body of a girl but the arms and legs and head of a boy."

"You look like something that belongs in the abortion bin."

And on....and on....and on he went.

And my "best" friend just sat there and let her boyfriend say these things...

And she laughed...

I walked out crying.

And she still continued to go out with him.

In my darkest times these words have echoed in my head.

Bullying in childhood and teen years is awful. It really is. However the bullying I absolutely cannot understand is when it happens in adulthood - you know, the years between say, 18 to 110.

I think that's where I've been the recipient of the most bullying.

Bullying can also come in the form of rumors and gossip...and the sad part is that it is usually within groups that this kind of behaviour happens - craft groups, sporting groups, church groups, support groups - places you go where you're supposed to feel like a part of something or feel supported by the people within. And when you're the subject of rumor and gossip it is so devastating and damaging.

However!!!

Triumph happens when you rise above it. When you can continue to hold your head high because YOU know the TRUTH...and the people that really matter know the truth. Triumph happens when you allow your circumstances and these negative events to shape you into a better and stronger person, when you can still act with graciousness towards people who, quite frankly, don't deserve it. Triumph happens when you will stand up for your children and teach them to stand up for themselves, not to REact, but to be PROACTIVE when it comes to dealing with a bully, whoever they may be....and sometimes a bully can be someone that's really close to you...someone who professes to love you even.

Which brings me to the question? Does a bully always know they're being one?

No, I don't tolerate bullying in any way, shape or form. I too, celebrate that we're all different and I see differences as an opportunity to learn something new, to expand my way of thinking. I don't think people are strange if they like different things, if they would prefer to do Maths for fun, or collect business cards, or believe that slapping two fish together whilst chanting can bring about spiritual enlightenment....they are just DIFFERENT to me! Difference is good.

Let's celebrate it!

Progression of a storm

Yesterday Melbourne was it's normal, wonderful, unpredictable, changeable self. I love my city so much. I love it that you really can't guarantee what you're going to get. Yesterday the weather forecasters were forecasting violent storms in the late afternoon.

"What???" said I at 4:45pm. "Surely not! Look at it! It's beautiful!"

"Hmm...maybe I spoke a little too soon!" (around 6pm)

Here it comes!

It was kind of cool watching it coming closer and closer, faster and faster.

It looked as though it was going to get nasty. (I love this shot. Kind of gives you the impression that the funnel of a twister is going to drop any moment!)

...but all we got was some lovely, grumbly thunder, some flashes of lightning and some lovely soaking rain.

Other suburbs weren't so lucky.

(all photos taken on my iPhone using instagram)

Wordless Wednesday - It's almost Summer!

I can't wait, I can't wait, I can't wait! - Billy Thorpe

Playing along with My Little Drummer Boys and Faith, Hope & a whole lotta love for Wordless Wednesday.

Early/Late Grateful, but grateful all the same!

I have to say that I am grateful for bloggers. You guys/gals. I am grateful for the internet where people share all kinds of things, their stories, their talents, their recipes, themselves. Over the past month or so I have tried recipes, gained inspiration from secondhand finds and learned new skills.

Yesterday I made Hedgehog Slice - thanks to Frog, Goose & Bear. Hedgehog used to be my most favorite sweet when I was a child. Despite this, I've never made it so when Emma posted the recipe the other day I just HAD to make it....and it was just as delicious as I remembered!

All weekend I have been crocheting Granny Squares - thanks to Craftyminx. Finding Craftyminx's Crochet School and following along has been wonderful. I've wanted to know how to crochet properly for such a long time - specifically so that I can make a proper crochet afghan with Granny Squares. I made one when I was ten. My best friend at the time and I taught ourselves. I still have mine and I love it, complete with it's myriad of mistakes.

This time I want to know how to do it properly and make something truly beautiful. I find that when I am really struggling as I have been lately I feel the need to create something beautiful as part of my healing. It really helped me after 9/11. My husband and I watched the events unfold live on television. I was working on a quilt wallhanging at the time and I found that the actual making of the quilt was very therapeutic and healing after witnessing such a traumatic event. So....I've decided to crochet a Granny Square afghan so that I have something beautiful to focus on.


I have big plans for these little babies!

They are so quick and easy to make. I have plans to make one for each of my children too, in their favorite colours.
I also gained inspiration from Cherie, who filled her house with flowers from the supermarket to give her something beautiful to look at despite the pain of loss. Yesterday I bought a $5 bunch of flowers from the fruit and vegetable market. They are colourful and sunny and make me smile when I look at them sitting on my kitchen table. They also remind me to think of Cherie and her family during this time....

So...I'm grateful for you people of the blogosphere. You inspire me.

Postcards from the edge

Firstly, no this is not an original title. I've snaffled it from Carrie Fisher. I've never read her book, but right now I feel the need to seeing it has a pretty nifty title and pretty much describes where I'm at right now. I'm no longer going to even try to pretend that I'm in a good spot. I'm not even close. Therefore, right now I feel that I need to use this little blog to send out postcards from the edge into the ether that is the www. This is also a pretty brave move on my part as I've just advertised my little spot in cyberspace in the SSPA (Short Statured People of Australia) Journal, so I'm kind of expecting an influx of new readers who may actually know me in real life.I'm conflicted by this. Will they read? What if no one reads? What if they hate what they read? What on earth am I thinking letting people I actually know read my musings? What if people get hurt by what I write? What if.........

In any case, I'm blogging on regardless. I'm continuing to send out postcards from the edge into the ether of the www.

I went to church today, specifically because my friend Pam was speaking. I'd heard whispers that she was speaking about anxiety, but later learned that she was touching on anxiety, depression and suicide. I kind of think I was meant to be there this morning. She did a great job, regardless of the fact that she text me last night and said, "I'm speaking on anxiety tomorrow but the thought of doing it is making me anxious!" I tried to lighten the mood for her a bit by telling her that because she was speaking I was actually going to show up but make it my job to sit in the back and heckle her. She said I could...as long as I also threw chocolate. I did neither, however I did listen intently.

Everything she said I already knew, however for some reason it was comforting having her say it. I already knew that the first thing a person who is struggling does is isolate themselves...because that's my first instinct. For some reason though, Pam saying that today had a little more impact on me. I don't know why. Maybe it's been because I've been feeling so alone lately....especially after going to the wedding last weekend. Being at my (ex) sister-in-laws wedding was so hard as I really felt I no longer belonged now that I really believe that my husband and I have separated for good this time, All of a sudden I just felt so isolated and alone standing there on the edge at the back. That feeling has persisted.

But it's been like that for a while now. Over the past decade I've felt like everything has just been stripped away - well, everything I ever believed in and relied upon anyway. Friends have disappeared and friendships have dissolved, family seems a little disjointed and distant, my children are growing up and moving out. All of a sudden I don't know what my place is anymore and what to do next. To top it all off, the face in the mirror that looks back of me is one of an old, tired stranger and I find myself asking, "When did that happen?"

I also realise that some of the alone-ness has been my doing. In my confused, sad, angry and depressed state I have pushed people away and isolated myself for fear that my continuing neediness and depression would eventually wear them out and they would leave me. I know that's been confusing for people and eventually, some have given up and left me to my own devices. I don't blame them for it.

For some reason though, Pam has hung in there. We don't see each other often, but when we do we just take up where we left off. I can tell her anything and everything and she never gets shocked, never judges, speaks the truth in love. At the moment, apart from my sister Serrin, she's about all I've got. I told her that today.

So, where am I going with all of this? I realised today I need to start getting involved with other people again. I need to get myself out of isolation and reaching out. I need to stop fearing rejection and accept peoples offers of friendship and coffee and invitations. I need to become interested in what's happening, rather than be caught up in just surviving, putting one foot in front of the other trying to get through another day.

As a result, I signed up for Ladies Camp next weekend. At first, the thought of it was making me anxious but Pam suggested I just come up for the Saturday and all of a sudden it didn't seem so scary. When I said I'd go all of a sudden my heart lifted with a bit of hope. Who knows what's around the corner? Maybe instead of sending out postcards from the edge I might start sending out postcards from right there in the middle, in the thick of things. A place that might just be fun and exciting and full of life!

Do I dare open myself up again and start taking risks again? Maybe I should.

Stories from Way Back When - In which she is sent to school

*Just a word about my Nanna's religious fervor before I get into this post. I was driving home the other day and wondered about the pastors, evangelists and teachers who prayed for me during those early years. I wonder if they too, thought that this was something that God simply wasn't going to do? I wonder if their job was simply to pray as asked, responding to my Nanna's faith, rather than their own personal beliefs? For the first time in my life I really wondered about the pressure that these men and women of faith were under. They must have been caught between a rock and a hard place sometimes. If they talked to Nanna about acceptance of my condition then (knowing my Nanna) she would have possibly judged them for not having enough faith in God. Hmm....interesting thoughts!*

Life progressed pretty much on schedule for me. Some children born with achondroplasia have physical developmental delays. It is not unusual for a child with achondroplasia not to walk until they are two years old, even later. Not me. I walked at thirteen months.



I'm not 13 months old here but I think this one of me investigating something in the grass is pretty cute!

 Soon it came time to send me off to Kindergarten (pre-school). I took to Kindergarten like a duck to water. Living in a small, country town had its advantages and I was already well-known. I assimilated into the group well and did everything all the other children did - the only babying I received was when all the other children were expected to say "Thank you" and I was allowed to say "Ta". I have no idea why. I was a very articulate child! My teachers helped me reach things like the painting easel and the bathroom sink by placing one of the large blocks in front for me to stand on.




There I am! Front and almost centre, looking very serious. To the left is my best friend Adine, who will later have an important role to play in my smooth transition to school!



Adine and I in an egg and spoon race with a couple of our other Kinder friends.


My parents were very good with cutting the apron strings and letting me be just a regular little girl and playing just like other children. Sometimes when your child is born with any kind of difference there is a tendency to want to hover and protect them, being scared that they're going to hurt themselves seriously. Trust me, the potential was always there. Being very top heavy meant that I was prone to falls and when I did, my very short arms didn't allow me to break my fall, so my head would hit the deck first. I am sure that my forehead was perpetually a varying shade of new and healing bruises. My mother remembers a time where we were all at some kind of social gathering and I was outside with all the other children playing as per usual. One of the mothers came up to my mother and said, "Excuse me, but your little girl is outside with the other children!" to which my mother replied, "Yes, I know. She's perfectly fine."

The only thing that was a bit of an issue regarding me starting school was the toilet and managing my own self care. Everything else was all ready. I was smart (having already read something from the newspaper before even starting school!), I was social, I had the school bag....

Me with my brothers - Nathan (left) and Lane.

...the only problem was that I was unable to....hmm...how do we put this delicately? Nope! We can't. I was unable to wipe my bottom. My arms just couldn't reach. Doing a wee was fine, but Number 2's? Nope!
Lucky for me I was pretty "regular" so my mother would put me on the toilet before we left for school in the morning, I'd do what I had to do, Mum would attend to my needs and I'd be right until I got home in the afternoon.

One day, this didn't happen and I went off to school withough my regular morning toilet sit. When I got home, my mother asked how my day was. "Oh it was fine!" I said. "I had to do a poo at school today, but it was ok....Adine wiped my bottom for me!" My mother roared with laughter when she heard this apparently. Adine and I were just like two little old ladies when we were together and the thought of the two of us in the toilets together doing what needed to be done amused her to no end. I think it was possibly at that point where she knew that I would always find a way to get something done...even if it meant relying on my best friend to help.

Wordless Wednesday - friends.

It is amazing meeting an online friend for the first time. The ease that comes from already knowing all the basics is great.

Joining up with Faith Hope & a whole lotta Love and My Little Drummer Boys for Wordless Wednesday.

Where I stood

I've just spent a weekend standing on the outside looking in.

Once I thought I belonged in there. I would have been seated somewhere in the second row perhaps, looking on, smiling. I would have felt the hand of a special someone squeezing my hand as we both heard similar words to what we once said, and we would have both remembered and smiled, and wished the happy couple all the very best wishes for their life together.

But last weekend, only two days ago in fact, I assisted my family to their seats and quietly slipped to the back...way back. Possibly further away than anybody there. I saw the bride arrive, and she was simply glowing...the most beautiful I have ever seen her. She was radiant, full of hope and love for this man who wants to spend the rest of their lives together. I couldn't have been happier for her. I have never seen her so calm, so assured. It was like she was coming home.

She was coming home....

After this weekend I've never felt so homeless. I felt so awkward, so superfluous. I just slipped to the back and waited until the time I might have been needed again. I wasn't.

So when it was all over I kissed the bride, told her she was beautiful and gave her all my very best wishes.

I wished more than anything that I belonged, but I didn't...and don't...and I'm blown away by how much it matters. I got back home last night and the feeling of being homeless has persisted.

Where do I belong?

Road Trip

Greetings from Shell Harbor. We're all here for a wedding, which I'm not actually attending but I've come along in the capacity of second driver and support person. It's been a looooong day. Initially it all starts off with great excitement but then the road wears you down. You take one too many wrong turns, you negotiate unfamiliar mountain roads with multiple hairpin bends and people are just antsy and grouchy.
However the hardest part for me is dealing with the public in unfamiliar territory. Today I witnessed my family being filmed on someone's camera phone. I confronted the woman and she denied it but I know she did. Somewhere we feature on someone's Facebook page. The thought of this bothers me to no end.
I'm just a regular someone, you know. My family is just regular, just smaller in stature. The only time we KNOW we're seen as different is when incidents like that happen. It hurts, you know. We're not here for your entertainment. I'm sure you'd hate it if people saw your precious family as a constant source of amusement and an oddity. I hate it more than you can imagine.
We got back in the car and put distance between us and them. I'm trying to tell myself that that ignorant woman doesn't matter...but she does. It matters that it hurts.

Wordless Wednesday - coming up roses

Early morning in the garden.

Joining in with Wordless Wednesday over at My Little Drummer Boys and Faith Hope & a whole lotta love.

Stories from Way Back When - My beginnings.

I guess it's high time I started telling some stories about the history of me. There are possibly a whole book full of them, so why don't we start from the very beginning because, as Julie Andrews says, "It's a very good place to start."

My parents were High School sweethearts apparently. They grew up in the same district, went to the same school, got married. I was an honest-to-God honeymoon baby. My parents were married in the middle of May 1966 and then ten months later on March 9, 1967 (there, now you know how old I am!) I was born. My Dad was in the army at the time, stationed up in Queensland I believe. There was a mad dash home again when he heard I was about to arrive.

As soon as my mother's obstetrician saw me he knew straight away that I had dwarfism; possibly because of years and years of delivering babies, however he chose not to tell my parents. "WHAT??" I hear you all exclaim, "HE WITHELD THIS VITAL PIECE OF INFORMATION?" Yes. Yes he did...and it was one of the best things to ever happen for two brand new parents and their newborn baby. The doctor could see that my condition was good. I was healthy. There were no immediate concerns for my health or development, apart from the fact that my growth patterns were not going to be the same as every other childs. He had also known my mother since she was young so he knew that this little piece of information was best kept from her for the time being. So, he allowed her to get to know me and love me and to figure out this whole new parenting thing until such time where the truth needed to be told.

And that's what happened. I was taken home and loved. I ate, I slept (intermittently - like a lot of newborns), I had wet and dirty nappies. Everything happened pretty much as one would expect them to. Sometimes my mother would be concerned by how little I seemed to drink/eat and she mentioned it to the Maternal Health Nurse who answered that if I ate the same as other babies I would be shaped like a square. Little comments like this stayed in my mother's mind and made her wonder. As I got older, other family members with children started to notice that I wasn't growing in the same manner as their children. They all started to talk amongst themselves....so eventually, when I was six months old, my parents took me back to the doctor who was there at my birth. Apparently he told them that he was wondering when he would see them again and gently confirmed that yes, I had dwarfism.

You would imagine that this time would have been a watershed one for my mother in particular, but it wasn't. Instead there was a sense of relief. "Oh is that all?" were her words I believe. She was comforted by the fact that, apart from the fact that I was growing differently to other babies, I was a "normal" baby in every other sense. After the big reveal, my parents and I were referred to the Royal Children's Hospital in Melbourne to see the specialists there. I was photographed, x-rayed and examined and my diagnosis confirmed. My parents were given all the current information about achondroplasia and asked how they were feeling about it all. My mother, a very practical woman, was totally fine about it all. She had all the information she needed. I was doing well. I was healthy. There was no reason as to why I was born with achondroplasia, except that it was a random happening and would not happen again in their future children. That was all the information she needed - especially considering she was pregnant with my brother.

I'm not sure about how Dad felt about everything. He was, and always has been, the deeper one who doesn't discuss freely how he really feels about something. I can only say that my own experiences with Dad were of positivity, love and acceptance. Stories that have filtered back to me from various sources over the years have suggested that he took the news harder than he showed. Maybe this is just how people interpreted it. Maybe they took his reluctance to talk about it as him being upset. I beg to differ. My father has always demonstrated to me how proud he is of me - just as I am. He's just a private man. But to be honest, if he did struggle with it I am totally ok with that. As a parent I have struggled with my own children's conditions too. 

As I grew up I saw very little of the Children's Hospital although one kind and gentle doctor made an enormous impression on me and that was Professor David Danks who was the leading specialist in Genetics during the 70's, right up until he retired in 1995.

Prof David Danks.



He was everything you could ever want in a doctor in this field - warm, personable, understanding, gentle. I was so glad that he was still around to see me grown up with three children of my own. (at the time) I remember sitting with him one day and asking him what I should be looking out for with my children; were there any signs I should be on alert for. He looked at me kindly and said to me, "Leisa, we see them often enough to watch out for anything that needs taking care of. Your job is to just take them home, enjoy them and love them." I think he must have given my parents the same advice, because that's certainly what they did.

(hope you didn't mind that little segue there.)

Of course, things weren't always rosy in regards to the acceptance of my diagnosis. Notice I said "my diagnosis" rather than "me". My grandmother was a very faithful Pentecostal Christian and believed everything as written, therefore if God could heal then I was going to be taken to the latest evangelist/faith healer/pastor and receive healing. My parents didn't see any point in this but Nanna, being a very bossy formidable woman, was to be obeyed so they accompanied her wherever she wanted to take me. I think I was even prayed for by the late Billy Graham...or at least taken to one of his crusades. Nothing changed (obviously) and I was brought home in the same state as I left. Nanna, always believing in the goodness of God (bless her) saw it as us not having enough faith for the miracle. I think her words were, "I guess that if we really believed we would have brought along big clothes to bring her home in."

I know I talk about it all quite flippantly, but events such as this (and they continued throughout my childhood) had an enormous effect on my self-esteem and self-acceptance. I know that there wasn't any cruel intent on my Nanna's behalf and she only did what she thought was best, but the messages it implanted within my psyche were quite damaging.

So, that's a little of my early history. Next time I'll be venturing into my early experiences at Kindergarten and school. These, I promise you, will be a lot less serious! :) Stay tuned. I'll also try and dig up some photos!