'Fessing up for freedom

Ok. So I've decided to get a bit bold and 'fess up on my profile information about myself. If you haven't looked at it, please do because it's the intro to this 'fessing up post. I want to 'fess up so that I can be a little more free with the photos I post and the things I write. Even though I am writing this I must admit to being nervous doing so. Very.

I'll preface this by saying that I am giving you all the Readers Digest version about me. Short, sharp and to the point. I think my reason for doing it is twofold.

1. So as not to bore you with too many details; and
2. Because I have written this stuff countless times before and have learned to condense it well.

If you would like to know more, please have a look at our support group's webpage.
So! *deep breath* here are the facts.


I was born with achondroplasia, the most common form of dwarfism. My parents are both average sized. Noticed I used the word "average" sized. Not normal, not tall - average.  As with most people like me, there was no history of dwarfism in my family at all. It happened as a random mutation of a gene – so I am a mutant, an X-Man (or woman in this case.)  I am the eldest child of my parents. They went on and had two boys and four other girls after me – all average height. No achondroplasia occured after me. It was always going to be that way. None of my siblings were going to carry the gene – you can’t carry the gene unless you are actually born with achondroplasia.

So there you are folks. Genetics 101.



My two little brothers and I. The fact that I was older than them but they were taller than me hadn't registered with me at this age. Mum says that it was totally obvious who was the boss! :)



The only thing that disturbs me about this family photo of all of us is the 70's fashion! (taken late 1980)



I have had a good life – surrounded by love and acceptance by my family, brought up doing everything anyone else did. I went to a regular school, learned to drive, got a job, got married to a man with another form of dwarfism, had babies – just generally had a life. Pretty boring huh? The only difference between me and everyone else is that I am doing everything at a height of just under 4ft. It confuses me that people find this curious, amazing, confusing and, at times hilarious. People can be lovely and then there are the minority that can be downright horrible. Unfortunately sometimes you tend to pay more attention to the ones who bring you down and are horrible to you sometimes. I need to constantly remind myself that there are more good people than bad, more who are friends than enemies, so that I don’t get too despondent and want to hide away in my house away from it all.

I am happy. I am healthy. I jog every morning. I have no medical problems associated with my condition. My happy and healthy upbringing formed the basis of my decision to have children. All of my babies were born via c-section at around 38 weeks gestation due to the fact that I have a very small pelvis. (although you wouldn't think so!) I had healthy, trouble-free pregnancies. My children all have dwarfism as well. I wish I could report that they haven't had any issues asssociated with their conditions, but this is not so. We know the Children's Hospital intimately. I have given my children over to the hands of surgeons and anaesthetists many, many times. It's not over yet.

I am immensely proud of my children. They have such courage, such gentle, warm, tender hearts. All of them have an independent outlook and are making their own way through life. I love them more than my own breath.

I am also the proud aunty of 12 neices and nephews. They and I have had this “thing” about recording the day we discover they have grown taller than me. It's a momentus day. Earlier this year the youngest one grew taller than me and we photographed it for posterity.

Toots - aged 5 - and Aunty Leisa. A proud moment!

So there you are. That's me. I'm out there now.



I love questions. I really do. I am a firm believer in the idea that there is no such thing as a stupid question. If you have a question, please ask. Anything. I’m happy to answer.



Shawty got low, low, low, low

Not such a good day.

I’d like to believe that mankind is essentially good and accepting of difference. Maybe most people are. I don’t know. On days like this though I find it very hard to believe. I also find it hard to believe that people can be so ignorant and rude.

Today I pulled up at a petrol station to get gas. I parked next to a van…actually I think the van pulled up after me. Anyway I was standing there filling up my car and I noticed the woman from the car next to me actually returning to her car, alerting her children of my presence and then proceeding to sit in the car with the aforementioned children and laugh at me with them.

I’d like to tell you that I ignored them in a dignified manner. I’d like to tell you that I completed filling my car with gas, paid for it and drove out of there with my dignity intact. I’d like to tell you that, but I can’t because that’s not what happened.

I looked at that woman straight in the eye and, in front of her children, I flipped her the bird. Yes, I sunk that low.

You know, if it hadve been just the children I would have just let it slide. Kids do that stuff. They’re kids. But to be encouraged in that behavior by their parent – the one who is supposed to lead by example – I just saw red.

I’m ashamed of myself that I sank that low. It kind of set the tone of the day for me unfortunately.

Wordless Wednesday

Sometimes you don't need mouth words to communicate.

Brave

I have to admit to feeling not so brave today.

She felt as though she'd wandered off the path just a bit.....

I know this is only a temporary setback.

Always in the kitchen at parties

For some reason, I always have this sudden urge to bake when my kitchen benchtop looks like this:

Yes! Straight after doing the grocery shopping and whilst people are still having breakfast. I have a house full of young adults and teens, therefore breakfast is usually still being eaten at 11am on weekends. Who cares if Mum's been up since 6:30am, gone for a jog, had a shower, done the laundry and bought groceries? Their day is just beginning!

(secretly though, I do love it. I had them all home for the weekend, including my daughter who is away at Uni. It was great being able to feed her up!)

Anyway, I did manage to clean up the bench and spent the most part of the day baking yummies like this!

Raspberry, White Chocolate and Macadamia Muffins.

I also made Carrot Cupcakes, Apricot and Coconut Slice, a Cornish Pasty, Chilli Concarne and three dozen sausage rolls.

I love having everyone home. Maybe it's got something to do with feeling all "Mumsy". I guess this is why I cooked and baked up a storm this weekend. It goes along with being Mum. I froze some of what I had cooked and baked and packed it into a cooler bag for my daughter to take back to Uni with her. She's discovered the financial pressures of paying rent and utilities this year and is now living the life of an impoverished student with $25 to last her for two weeks. She'll manage. I think she kind of enjoys the challenge actually.

So that's what happened at our place this weekend. Lots of love, lots of cooking and baking and a game of Skip-Bo whilst watching Sucker Punch thrown in for good measure. How was your weekend?
 

Hope and new directions

I've been saying for the longest time that I've wanted to work in my local community. My heart and passion is in the field of Early Childhood. I just love children and their wide-eyed view of the world. I loved it when I had three children under the age of five at home. They were so interesting, so fun.

Back in 2009 I decided to enrol at TAFE to do my Certificate III in Children's Services. I loved it. For my first placement I had a pretty dodgy centre. It was poorly run and had a drop dead boring program for the poor little mites but the children were just beautiful. No, they weren't angels...but I think some of that was a reflection of the poor quality care they were receiving. My second placement was a dream - a well run centre with staff who were well qualified and passionate about their job. They cared for the children and the children basked in it. It was a centre I would have happily sent my children to if I needed to. It was that centre that confirmed to me that yes, I did want a career in child care or as a pre-school assistant.

However, here I am. Seemingly stuck in a four day a week, 10am to 4pm office job. Don't get me wrong, I work with the loveliest people you could ever hope to work for. Everyone is so positive, no one thinks their job is more important than another's. It's a great place to work but it's just not a job that melts my butter. It's a job, not a career. Up until now I haven't seriously been pursuing my dream of working with children. I guess it had something to do with the fact that I had been maintaining the status quo whilst in the holding pattern that was my marriage.

Now I'm out of the holding pattern and I feel it's time for change. I really, really, really want this. I want to work in the field, I want to work in my local community. There's no point sitting here saying, "I don't like this anymore! I wish I had a job in child care!" I'm going to get up and get one...in my local area. No more commuting to the city four days a week. If it's going to be, it's up to me.

Having said all that though I am a little scared. This little black duck likes things that are stable, predictable, familiar. 2011 has been a year of enormous change. My eldest daughter moved out of home, my parents sold all their worldly possessions, bought a motor-home and are currently somewhere west of Woop Woop, my marriage dissolved after 25 years...and now here I am, actively seeking and invoking change. Am I out of my cotton-picking mind?

"No," answers the still, small voice within me. "No. You are not. You are just making decisions based on your own goals and gut feelings. It's time." My counsellor is constantly asking me, "What is your gut telling you?" For the first time ever, I'm listening to my gut constantly. It hasn't steered me wrong yet.

Today I applied for two different jobs in the Early Childhood field - one as an assistant in a Kindergarten (which is the one I REALLY want!) and the other in a child care centre in the 3 - 5 year old room. Both are in my local area. Gee I hope I at least get an interview. I also applied for a job as a medical receptionist. No, it's not in Early Childhood, but it is in my local area so it's a step in the right direction, a new direction.

Leisa is starting to boldly go where she once feared to tread.

Six

Just to mix it up a little I thought I might try something I saw on one of my favorite blogs over at Pacing the Panic Room.

1. Go to your documents
2. Go to your sixth file
3. Go to your sixth picture
4. Blog about it.

Ok, so there's also stuff there about tagging six friends to do it too, but I'm not going to bother. I don't have six files of pictures on here. I'm not that organised. They're all sitting in My Pictures, so I'll just grab the sixth. So, without further ado, here it is!

This is Buddy. One of our three budgerigars. She was not originally ours. She belonged to my mother-in-law prior to coming to us. Before that she was hatched from an egg at my nieces place. Hayley had a whole aviary of birds and wanted to hand rear one...and this one conveniently "fell" out of the nest. We all think she had a little help.

So Buddy was given to my mother in law to hand raise when she barely had any feathers and was really quite ugly. I didn't think she'd survive, but survive she did.

I have this theory that animals raised by humans end up being a bit...shall we say...screwy. Buddy definitely has a few screws loose. When my mother in law had her she was a grumpy little thing. She liked a copious amount of attention, liked free reign of the house, thought plastic balls in her cage were eggs that needed hatching, bit you if you got too close, refused to get back into her cage and was just generally demented. My mother in law doted on her but this seemed to make Buddy even more screwy. I don't think she realised she was a bird. In fact, when my mother in law bought her a "mate" he survived a mere week before he met his untimely demise at the talons of Buddy.

Eventually my mother in law decided that yes, Buddy was screwy and needed the company of other birds so she came to live at our place in the same cage as our two other budgies - one male and one female. She has proceeded to bust up a loving relationship and place herself as "the other hen" and is quite shameless with her flirting with our male budgie.

At first I would let the three budgies out to stretch their wings in the house but the hassle of getting the three of them back in their cage is most definitely not worth it. They are incarcerated for the rest of their lives now. However, they don't seem to be too upset by it. My mother in law still manages to visit Buddy from time to time and is rewarded by a sharp nip on the finger. Nice.

I'd love to change her name, for personal reasons, but Buddy seems to have stuck. I must admit to not really being this budgies greatest fan because of her attitude, so maybe Buddy is the perfect name for her....Funny how you can manage to form a particular dislike for an animal because of their spoiled disposition....

So, that's a blog about Buddy - the weirdo budgie. One of the many animals in our slowly shrinking menagerie.

I'm sure Dixie the cat would love to give her a warm cuddle - and a big kiss.