Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts

19 November 2014

Me and my Mum: devouring dinosaur bones and going to the theatre

Over the weekend my Dad spent time scanning old photos and uploading them to facebook. He was probably bored without Mum (she was down in Melbourne with me) and they've also just got the NBN, so hello fast internet!
He uploaded this one - I'd never seen it before. I love my time with Mum in the kitchen. And look how pretty she is!
 

Meanwhile Mum and I spent time wedding planning (who would have ever thought?!), and we went to the theatre to see Once the Musical (again, again!). It was nice. She said "let's take a selfie!", and we did! I love this photo - we're so radiant. She commented that her eyes always look droopy (pfft - they're smile lines and she's gorgeous!) and I replied "you can always have a facelift". And we laughed and laughed.

Gosh I treasure this time with her.

 

12 August 2013

When Mum comes to town (we eat a lot of great food).

 

Last weekend Mum came to stay. We got a fair bit of stuff done around my house, but most of the time was spent eating. And teaching Mum how to use social media (Twitter, Instagram and the art of the selfie).

It's so good having a foodie Mum - we spend a lot of time talking about food - especially the food we cook. She is happy to come to stay and be well fed.

We ate at some local restaurants...

For Friday night dinner...Toast with eggplant, feta and honey (amazing!) and lamb, apricot, date and almond tagine (so warming on a freezing night). We also had quail in a chocolate sauce. That was our first time at Arcadia. Really impressed with this restaurant and will go back soon.

Arcadia on Urbanspoon

 

And for lunch the next day, we had a Mexican share plate at La Tortilleria. I am so in love with this place - it's fresh and tasty Mexican. My favourites were the toasted tortillas filled with pork, pineapple and cheese - crispy tortillas, tender pork, sweet pineapple and melty cheese. Yum!

The tortillas are made on site in this big machine. It was great to watch this process. Mum and I both bought packets of freshly made tortillas - hot from the machine.

La Tortilleria on Urbanspoon

Eating great food at restaurants inspires both Mum and I to cook great food at home. And of course we did. We went to my local shopping strip to stock up on fresh produce - meat, veggies and cheese. I bought a rolled pork roast - I felt so grown up!

I made a major purchase - a new fridge - which I admit has rekindled my passion for spending time in the kitchen. This fridge holds a lot, its shelves are sturdy, and the crisper keeps the vegetables crisp. The milk has some friends now - there's cider and wine on the bottom shelf now!

Once the fridge was delivered and installed, Mum and I got cooking. On Saturday night we cooked a Mexican inspired feast:

Pico di gallo (onion, tomato, coriander, olive oil)...

Salad of spinach, beetroot, mandarin, hazelnuts, feta, lime juice...

And roasted pork filled tortillas like the ones we had that day...

It was a fantastic meal! Quite healthy, and really relaxing preparing all the dishes. Lots of leftovers too.

On Sunday we lunched at Hausfrau with Camille. Mum hadn't met Cam before but she had heard lots about her of course - and loved her of course!

I ate a pumpkin fritter with beetroot, creme fraiche and a poached egg. Yum!

And we had some cake...

I cooked a faux-fancy meal for dinner on Sunday night. That is, a dinner that looks quite fancy but is really easy. It's chicken fillet rolled in prosciutto and stuffed with spinach and cheese, with herbed potatoes and turnips, steamed choy sum and carrot, and cranberry sauce. Yum!!

It was a really lovely weekend - thanks Mum!

 

26 July 2013

Not well. Fandom.

I'm not well. Everything has collided and now I have sorer-than-usual skin. The pain is hard to describe - it's throbbing and tiring, and wears at my emotional armour. I'll be ok soon - I always am. This month has definitely shown that stressful situations (and even excitement) can play havoc with the body's balance.

Yesterday I took myself to the hospital to get some antibiotics, a doctors certificate and just to have a chat to a professional, really. While I don't feel sad, I do feel overwhelmed by a lot of things, worried even, and I just needed to know that what I feel is valid and may be contributing to this period of soreness. I have today off work and plan on resting up over the weekend. Now, in addition to the prescription, I can work on resting my mind a little. I will try (right after that deadline I enjoy a cup of green tea and a quality magazine).

I am forever grateful to Australia's public hospital system. We are so lucky to get free taxpayer funded clinics, treatment and hospitalisation. While I don't much like the wait time, I acknowledge the wait time is necessary, and at the end of the wait time, I'm going to see a knowledgable, caring and friendly doctor or nurse who understands what I need to get and stay well.

I went to the dermatology clinic as a walk in patient, rather than having an appointment booked months in advance, and was seen to within half an hour. That beats sitting in emergency waiting for a dermatologist for five hours. (A skin infection never seems to be regarded as a true emergency...) After the dermatology clinic I was referred to the immunology clinic, where shit just got serious.

The immunology clinic appointment was a follow up to the trip to emergency last week. We talked about what happened when I ate seafood - that this was my first reaction after eating it my whole life. The dermatologists have always been concerned about food allergies and I've been lucky to go for so long with only having allergies to latex, pollen and codeine. So this potential allergy didn't really come as a surprise. I was prescribed an EpiPen, practiced how to use the trainer EpiPen, and given some forms for a blood test to test for seafood allergies. We also talked about possibly boosting my immune system with a blood product called Intragram (like Instagram, but not an app and there's no pretty filters. Actually it's not like Instagram at all. It's a transfusion in the arm.), and vaccines for chickenpox and herpes. Next time I visit the hospital I'll have that blood test and then see the immunologist again to discuss the allergy situation. Until then, I'll just avoid eating seafood. What's a foodie to do?! I'll be envious of all those seafood dinners on Instagram...

Two happier things:

Darren Hayes replied to my tweet!

Darren uses social media to do great things - speaking up about human rights injustices, especially around homophobia and discriminatory behaviour. I love that he uses his celebrity for positive influence. And I love that he won't remain silent despite receiving criticism. And nor will I. (Also, did you see he called me beautiful?! Did you see?!)

My Dad was in town for the Liverpool v Melbourne Victory match this week. I was SO excited that he could see the game - he hasn't seen his team play for 36 years.

That's him in Cape Town in 1977.

He was able to meet his friends from the UK - who he met at Liverpool matches back in the UK - while in Melbourne - he hadn't seen them for all those years either.

I saw this on the news and got a bit teary at the thought that Dad was in that crowd, singing You'll Never Walk Alone. Australia's his home now and it is wonderful he could experience that fandom again here.

I grew up with a very passionate Liverpool fan father. He still is - up at all hours watching the match, checking the LFC news on the Internet. When I was little, well before the Internet, and before we had SBS TV in our regional city even, he'd tune into the BBC sports show on the shortwave radio to keep up with the scores. There was a time he came to Melbourne with me for a hospital appointment and we had to change hotels because the one we'd booked into wasn't showing the Liverpool match!

I haven't ever watched a full game, but the chants are all so familiar to me. I knew all the words of You'll Never Walk Alone from a very early age, like it was a nursery rhyme.

Mum sent me that photo the other day - Dad's fandom was passed down to me - not in a sporty way but definitely through my passion for singer-songwriters.

There's something special about being a fan. It's the anticipation of their arrival. It's the passion of seeing your team or band or actor do what they do best. It's the camaraderie, the chanting, the cheering. It's that look you get from other fans - the feeling of sharing the same excitement. It's that intimate moment when your idol looks at you in the eye or sings you that song. It's knowing that your passion has a place in your heart for life. It's the most alive you'll ever feel.

That's it from me today. I'm resting. Probably sleeping as this post goes live.

Do you love fandom as much as I do?

Are your parents passionate fans and has their fandom been passed down to you?

Did you go to the football?

Has your favourite celebrity tweeted you?

Have you got an EpiPen? Does it hurt?

Are you following me on Facebook?

 

13 May 2013

Ichthyosis Awareness Month: My Dad's story ~ "It was never easy being the father of a girl with special needs."

I have been moved by every submission for the Ichthyosis Awareness Month project, but my Dad's moved me most - moved me to tears in fact. My Dad has written of the difficulties he had with parenting me. It saddened me to read that I had a hard time affectionately bonding with him. I don't remember that.

My earliest memories of time spent with my Dad are his Saturday morning storytelling (Tippy the Elf, Marmaduke and Joe with their lorry), moulding cheeses out of playdough, spending time in his shed building toys out of wood, and that day I was home from school sick and I needed to help him move the washing machine with a crow bar (I was not designed to be a handyman!). Dad has passed on his creativity to me, and taught me long division. We spent hours listening to great records - The Beatles, Fleetwood Mac, Simon and Garfunkle, Dire Straits, The Kinks, Manfred Man - Dad helped shape my music tastes. He helped me appreciate cheese and cider. He's made me do the dirty jobs - picking up dog poo and chopping up offal for the dogs. And he constantly reminds me to increase my superannuation contributions. Here's my Dad's story.

"I will never forget the day Carly was born. She was early but presented difficulties for many hours when she tried to get out feet first! I was in the room when she announced herself to the world and to the medical staff who had never seen the likes. Within an hour our local dermatologist was on the scene and made the correct diagnosis and re-assured us both that the condition would clear before too long.

This same man proceeded to administer strong cortisone creams without considering the dangers. It was only when we dumped him and engaged the best specialist treatment that the life-long condition was confirmed.

It was never easy being the father of a girl with special needs. Her mother did all of the mothering and Carly would scream if I attempted to hold her. She was a slippery creature with red skin and patches scale. Her scalp was particularly bad and we knew she must have been in pain and discomfort. She wore tiny mittens during the night to prevent scratching.

At an early stage I accepted that our lives would change forever. No outdoor activities, sport or swimming but plenty of trips to doctors and hospitals chasing the answers.

Being a tidy person, I found myself having to re-adjust as skin debris became part of my life.

I would wake up each morning feeling depressed and I believe my work suffered.

Eventually Carly accepted me and I was able to hold her.

I remember taking her to school the day she started and I worried all the time she was there.

She made it through Primary school and the next challenge was High school. Surprisingly it went quite well and, towards the end, Carly had the confidence to start a job at K Mart.

Even today I worry about her and how she’s coping but I can’t do much to help any more. She knows what to do and gets through life quite well."

If you are suffering from depression or anxiety and need to talk to someone, contact

Lifeline - phone 13 11 14

Beyond Blue - phone 1300 22 4636

Kids Helpline - phone 1800 55 1800

This post is part of the Ichthyosis Awareness Month project. For all posts in this project, click here.

For Ichthyosis and appearance diversity resources, click here.

 

 

06 May 2013

Ichthyosis Awareness Month: My Mum's story.

My Mum is the best. She's been my carer, my guide and my best friend. And I am continually thankful to her and Dad for for giving me such a wonderful life and never stopping me from doing anything. I can't imagine what it would have been like for her to have her life changed so dramatically after I was born. So I asked her about it.

"Roger (Carly’s dad) and I emigrated from South Africa and moved to Sydney in January 1981. My pregnancy with Carly was very normal with no morning sickness nausea etc . We moved to Albury in September 1981 and I had the normal check-ups with the gynaecologist and everything was normal. I had check-up five days before Carly was born and was then told she was upside down but because she had three weeks till she was due to arrive there would still be time for her to turn. Well she decided to arrive three weeks early and was still upside down when she was delivered. She was red all over and a dermatologist was immediately called. He diagnosed the redness as Ichthyosis Erythroderma. He also told us that by the time she left hospital (after 10 days) it would clear with creams and ointments he prescribed. This did not happen at all, in fact she got worse.

We were frantic with worry about Carly, and having no family or friends in Australia, it was hard to comprehend what was happening. The paediatrician was great, although our visit to him almost every second day was a nightmare as every time we came away there was some different wrong with Carly besides her skin problem

At three weeks Carly was admitted to The Royal Children’s Hospital in Melbourne to where she stayed for 3 months in the intensive care unit. The day she was supposed to be discharged she had a seizure so she stayed for another month. The cause of the seizure was unknown. By the time she was discharged she was half her birth weight and the doctors did not have much hope for her survival.

We went home (4 hour drive) with a sunken feeling, but decided to make the most of the time we had with her and we are still making the most of our time with her now.

Life was very slow. Each day was a bonus although we did think about how to cope in the future.

Carly had lots and lots of visits and stays at the Royal Children’s Hospital and lots of stays in our local hospital (Albury Base Hospital). The medical staff and doctors at both RCH and Albury Base were fantastic and still is now with Carly attending the Royal Melbourne Hospital.

My biggest concern was how Carly would cope growing up in a small town. We moved to a place called Walla Walla north of Albury. I took Carly to the local preschool where she had a great time, but kids were wary of her even at the age of 3 years. I worried about how she would cope in primary and high school. I did make some great friends though. They supported us and was always there when I felt down or I needed them to babysit which was not very often as I felt guilty leaving Carly.

I went back to partime work which suited our situation. The day I started work Roger rang me and said Carly had to go to hospital as she had a fly in her ear. She had to have an operation to remove it. My employer was great. I was told to have as much time as I needed.

Primary school was very average although the staff was supportive. Carly did not have close friends and I always told her high school would be better. High school was a bit better. The first three years was hard and Carly tried very hard to fit in. I use to get very angry at people staring and making snide remarks. As Carly grew older she told me to ignore them as she can cope and handle people her way without getting angry. I found people very ignorant and I still do.

Carly applied for an after school job which was at a department store. Another worry, how was she going to cope with the customers especially young kinds, teenagers or rude/ignorant people, but she took it in her stride.

Carly completed her HSC and then went on to further her studies at university - doing a bachelors and then a masters degree.

I then worried about her going out into the big wide world, but she showed us that she was confident and matured enough to move. The first year of her moving 300 km away from home (to Melbourne) was a worry, but I don’t have to worry too much about how she will cope."

 

A number of parents of children with Ichthyosis have told me about their guilt of birthing a chronically ill, visible different child. They're also worrying that life will continue to be difficult for them and their children. I asked Mum to write about her experiences and advice for new parents.

"As parents, life was a challenge. We did a lot of questioning as to why and how Carly could have been born with Ichthyosis. Our guilt was a natural feeling.

Our main aim was to get Carly home from hospital and get into a routine. Once home we decided to make the most of Carly as we were told she would not survive. The medical team we had was very supportive. My advice is:

- Speak to your doctor, ask questions , no matter how trivial.

- Take time out for yourself. There will always be someone to offer to babysit.

- Join a mother's group. Interact with children and parents.

- Don't be afraid to go out, people will stare, children will ask questions. Answer them politely. Ignore rude people.

- Feel good about yourself. If you are depressed it will rub off.

- When help is offered, take it as a fifteen minute break means sanity.

- Take things one day at a time. When Carly was a baby, I worried about how she'd go at school. Her paediatrician encouraged us just to focus on the present day and to cherish every moment spent with Carly. You can't change the future by worrying about it."

This post is part of the Ichthyosis Awareness Month project. For all posts in this project, click here.

For Ichthyosis and appearance diversity resources, click here.

 

12 September 2012

My Dad's moustache

For thirty years, I've known my Dad with a moustache. He has had it since I was born. For many, many years it was jet black.






Some people say he looks like Borat.


                     (source)

He thinks so too, and perhaps he does, but I am just glad he's not adopting the full Borat ensemble.
                  (source)
Dad's moustache was reliable. I could depend on it being there, just like Dad's there for me ("you'll always be my baby, even when you're 30", he's said.).

His moustache has been there every Christmas, holiday and of course all those times we've bonded over cleaning up dog poo or having a disagreement over the PayTV channels (he's wanted Coronation Street, I've wanted anything but).




So when I set off on my big adventure, I was confused when he met me at the airport. Dad flew to Tasmania the same day I flew to London, so he drove down to Melbourne and met Mum and I at the airport and we spent time together as a family before I got on the plane.

We were in the check in queue when Mum said "there's Dad". Where? I couldn't see him. There was a man in Dad-like clothes, but no, that couldn't be him!

Now I am not very good at recognising people, and I also only see Dad about four times a year. Surely I couldn't have forgotten what my Dad looks like?

"Where is he?" I asked Mum. "There" she told me and pointed. Dad waved. Then Mum told me he had shaved off his moustache recently, after he had a little slip of the razor.

Mum hasn't known Dad without a moustache either, so I asked her if it's like being with a new husband. She said it did take a bit of getting used to. She's been happily married to a moustached man for 31 years.


And so after check in, I ran out under the queue barrier to see Dad, we gave each other bear hugs, and I couldn't stop staring at this 'new' Dad of mine. I had never seen his whole face!


My Dad looks VERY different now. But he's still got everything I love about him. I went off to London trying to save the memory of what this 'new' Dad looks like.

Has your relative ever changed their looks drastically and it took a bit of getting used to?

25 April 2012

A poem by my grandfather

On Monday my paternal grandfather, aged 91, went to palliative care. He's not been well for a few months now, going in and out of hospital with various illnesses. My Mum called me to tell me these may be his last days. As I write this, he is comfortable, free from pain, and the nurses tell me he is alert and doing well despite being incoherent. Those terms, comfortable, free from pain and palliative care, are daunting. They are the terms to describe the end of days. It feels strange to literally take each day at a time.

If he was well enough, he'd be attending an ANZAC Day ceremony today. He and my grandmother served in the Second World War. Years ago we used to march in the same ANZAC Day parade in my home town. He'd be marching with the war veterans and I'd march with the Brownies or my school.

In all honesty, my grandfather and I aren't close. He gave me a book of his poems, and I have read some of them in the past day or so. He's a great writer. I wanted to share one of his poems here. Maybe I'll share more one day.


Life is wonderful

Yesterday's gone
into history now,
and if all my horoscopes
sand money was about
then Fortune was joking,
because if Yesterday
was living, then
Yesterday was terrible.
But Today is different,
Today is a promise
of what is going
to happen to me today
and hasn't happened yet.

All the while while I am
living today,
I will be thinking:
there is Life,
there is a promise,
and there is Hope,
and today
could be wonderful.

-
I know that he will get good care in the hospital. He's had a very long life, and I hope this time for him is peaceful. Through reading his poetry, I've discovered a man I've never known.

24 April 2011

Vintage

I've been at my parents' place going through old memories. Nanny's jewellery, my grandparents' plates, and photos. I have to provide some responses to a journalist, and I was asking my Mum when I first knew I was different to everyone else. I can't remember feeling or looking different, until I got to school. Not so many photos taken in my school years. I just wasn't confident. How things have changed!

And my skin has improved no end. I've gone from sorbolene to vaseline. My face was very dry and sore back then. And I had sparse hair.

I love these photos. I was a happy kid. My parents look so trendy! These photos make me smile. And I still look the same.

My birthday. 8 December 1981.

Camping at Porpunkah, 1982.
 Bright Rodeo, 1982. How cool were my parents?!
Christmas day 1983.
Pie making with Mum. 1984.
Baby. 1984.
Preschool, 1985. The pussy bow blouse and cord pinafore! Fashionable back then.
I've got heaps more to share, so keep an eye out for them :)




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