I am not the one who usually like to plan ahead.
I am the last minute ( rather almost last minute) person.
For eg, last Sunday Yaya had to attend the optiminds competition and it was over at 12 noon. As we were driving back home, I asked the kids what is the plan for the rest of the day?
They all wanted to go for a long drive.
So the options were North, South, East or West.
We usually head to Byron bay every alternate week and had been to Byron bay the week before. So south was out.
I suggested Sunshine coast. We didn’t have any beach gear with us. So ruled out
Eventually we decided we will head to Kingaroy ( North West of Brisbane)
Filled the fuel, bought coffee at Coles express and headed to Kingaroy..
On the way we passed by the Nanango Go-Kart center. So I stopped the car, kids and I went for Go Kart rides..
By the time we finished it was around 4 pm, and we decided to head back home.
We had such a good time
Nothing was planned in advance and lots of good memories..
I actually prefer not to plan things in advance. I am scared that if I do plan in advance then things won’t work out well
I had asked the kids where they want to go for the Christmas holidays ( 2 months of school summer break)
They said they missed eating Malaysian food. ( So did I..)
As December is a peak tourist season, I had no choice but to book and buy the tickets in advance..
Christmas in Malaysia..am so excited..( and scared trying to imagine all sorts of things that can potentially go wrong because I planned ahead and then blogged about it as well)
I have the airtickets, but not sure where we will be staying..or what we are going to do for 3 weeks..But it will be fun.. Imagine not having to cook for three weeks!!!
Now, I am no fashion guru, However, the one thing that annoys me the most is the propensity of Indian guys ( often the kottayam achayans) wearing white socks with pants.
White socks are part of sports gear..
When you wear formal pants, you are supposed to match your socks to your pants ( and if it is extremely formal, match your socks to your pocket square)
I know I sound so silly, cribbing about the colour of the socks..
But what makes a man a real man is the attention to simple details.
A well dressed man..(Remember the gwalior suitings ad of the late 80′s and early 90′s?)… “The complete man”!!!
Yesterday Yaya attanded an Optiminds challenge.
She and her friends practiced the last few days, designed the costumes and the props. As the project had to be done enitirely by the students, I was not allowed to even know what they were doing.
I drove them to the venue yesterday morning.
I was curious
I waited for the show to begin.
And then it happend
There was no mike..
I am sitting on my bed as I type this post
The news paper, my phone, a packet of Kettle cooked chips ( the only chips I like to eat) is by my side. There is a mountain of books on my dressing table that I was meant to have read and gave it away. My favourite rocker that I picked up from the op shop is piled with clothes. I no longer know which is clean and which needs to be washed, so I must wash the whole lot one of these days.
There are some books, clothes hanger, stuffed toys on the floor, which reminds me that I haven’t vacuumed the floor last week.
I can see an empty can of sprite on my book shelf..Yaya had left it there few weeks ago and I was meant to have told her to throw it in the bin
This is just my bedroom.
In the living room.. I cleaned the dining table this morning. It is baby’s job to clean the table after each meal. Somehow she never does it and I keep forgetting to get her to do it. The table cloth really needs a wash. I was meant to have bought a plastic table cloth..
It has been raining non stop the past few days and I didn’t want to use the clothes dryer. So the couch and the futon has become temporary clothes line. I should fold the clothes and put them away.
There are still two plastic bags of grocery on the kitchen floor… from last sunday ..
So technically..my house is a mess..
I probably am a failure
But that is ok..
Much as I know I am not Martha stewart, I am grateful that I am me.. that I am still happy..that I have three healthy, happy kids..
I think in the end, it is not if my house looks like a show home that matters.. what matters is that I haven’t lost the me..I am still the same..
Am to be judged by how shiny my kitchen sink is.. or how happy the kids and I are?
If you are or know anyone who is a dietitian, pls mail me. (daofto at gmail )
two days ago, I was in the kitchen getting the breakfast and school lunch ready. The fact that I was sick ( bad case of flu) and that I got up late didn’t make it any easier.
I could hear Yaya rummaging through my closet.
I looked at the clock. 7.02 am
I was planning to make a wrap for lunch and found that the packet only had two tortillas..
I hate it much when I have to change my plans. I was getting agitated by the minute
“You are running late” I hollered out to Yaya
“Mom, I am not blind” She replied
I was tempted to ask “really? ” But held my tongue
I can see the bus stop from the kitchen
I watched the 7.15 bus that my child is supposed to take arriving and then leaving the bus stop.
“You missed the bus” I couldn’t resist announcing
“So? There is always another bus Mom” she replied
true also I thought.
Finally she came out of her room.
I looked at her.
according to my son, it was the first time he saw my jaw dropping to the ground.
This is what I saw
She wore my bright tie and dye t shirt, a blue shorts, she had an assorted sets of jewellery on her neck, all mismatched. She wore a giant stone necklace as a head gear..my batik sarong as a cape. she held a wand in one hand and flowers in the other hand.
“What?” She asked
I still couldn’t talk
so she replied
“Today is super hero day at my school and I decided to be captain colourful”
Finally I asked her
“Are you going to take the bus to school” Somehow I couldn’t really picture my child wearing such an outrageous costume and daring to take the public transport.
Her siblings and I watched her walking to the bus stop, we could see everyone looking at her and we could picture everyone staring at her as she walked to the school from the bus station.
My son summed it all up
“she is cool”
I am a creature of habit. I like certain genre of books.. I haven’t read any of the Harry Potter books and have no plans of ever reading it. all three of my kids have read the whole series more than once and have tried their level best to entice me to read it. I am not in to Harry Potter. simple..period.
I also have the patience of a minnow..the maximum time I take to read a novel is 24 hrs. There are very few books that took me more than 24 hours to finish reading.
I was given a box of books by some stranger and a widow for one year by John Irving was one among the collection. Would I have bought it had I seen it? No. It was not the type of book I liked to read. But because it was a gift and because I had no idea who gave me the gift, I thought I might as well read it. ( May be I thought if I read the book, it might give me some clue as to the giver of the gift..could it be the handsome dude, I see often at the bus stop?? ( kidding)
It took me 4 days to finish reading it.
I absolutely hated the book.
The worst, i don’t even know why I hated it so much. I loathed the plot, the narration, the back and forth way the story was going..It was just awful..I can’t even remember hating a book as much as I hated this one..
ps..it is 1.56 am..and my bike rider was an hour late..i just heard him ride past my house..
Baby’s Eddie Mabo project
Good morning 4E. Today I will be talking about Eddie Mabo’s heroic acts on saving the aboriginals’ original rights to their lands.
Eddie Mabo was born as Eddie Koiki Sambo but changed his name later in life. He was born in Murray island on the 29th June 1936. the son of Robert Zezou Sambo and Annie Mabo of the Piadaram clan. His mother died in childbirth and as a result his Uncle Benny Mabo and Aunt Maiga adopted him under customary law.
He lived in Townsville and was working in the railways. This was an important turning point in Eddie’s life.Through his work in the railroads he met many other Torres Straight islanders like him. He became spokesperson for the railroad workers and often voiced their opinions to the trade union officials.
In 1959, he opened the first black school in Townsville.
I believe that, Eddie Mabo is one of the hidden heroes of Australian history. He is famous for his role in campaigning for indigenous land rights. Prior to Eddie Mabo challenging the rule, The British and the Australian law was that Australia was ‘no man’s land’, meaning the Aboriginal people who has lived in Australia for ever and was here before the British arrived had no rights to their land.
The High Court of Australia ruled that under Australian law, Indigenous people have rights to land – rights that existed before colonisation and which still exist. This right is called native title.
On 21 January 1992, Mabo died of cancer at the age of 56.
The Australian newspaper elected Edward Mabo as Australian of the Year on the 26th of January in 1993.
I am not sure if I actively promoted conscientiousness in my children or they are born that way.
We, as a family have always talked about history and what mistakes were made in the past and what we could learn from history.
My youngest came home yesterday and told me that I need to go to her school and see her teacher.
Now, before I go any further, I must write a few things about her.
She is 9 years old, my little baby ( proof that mothers’ and their youngest child shares a very special bond), does her work well, makes good pancakes and loves all kind of animals.
According to my son, her chooks can beat the fastest runner in Olympics, simply because the chooks have learned to run as fast as their little feet can carry the moment they spot her. ( She loves them so much that, she practically carries them around, tie a bonnet on them when it raines etc !!)
So it was a bit terrifying when I was told that I must go to the school and meet the teacher.
What did you do? I asked her
she replied..The teacher was talking about Eskimos and she got up to tell the teacher that the correct term is Inuit and a lot of people in N. America considers the word Eskimo derogatory.
I spend all of last night reading various articles and dictionaries to see the origin of the word Eskimo. There is a huge controversy.
According to my daughter, she learned in her school in Canada that the name Eskimo is derogatory. She has refused to write the word as well and wrote Inuit in her work book.
I don’t know what to do.
How can I go to the school and tell the teacher the word Eskimo is considered derogatory when I don’t know the how and why?
Even worst is telling a child, who refused to speak about traditional Aussie heroes ( her teacher’s list had Charles Kingsford Smith, Dr. John Flynn, Donald Bradman etc) and chose to speak about Eddie Mabo that perhaps she should back down a bit ??