Well, it's about time...

Hello all! Miss me? Yeah, I know you did. Don't try to deny it. Just thought I'd drop in to give you guys an update on the Cavanagh life. Really, I just thought you might be gettin' sick of the "gettin' busy" kangaroos. I realize there's only so much you can stomach!

Much has been going on. First and foremost (since it's always about me) I'll be having another knee surgery in about a week (probably). The doctor decided something was definitely wrong when I showed up with a knee the size of a cantaloupe (or should I say rockmellon). But since I went back today and the swelling has gone down, he suggested that I stop taking my meds about a week before my appointment so that the orthopedic guy could see the "real thing". Sadist.

I'll be flying to Adelaide on the 11th, have an MRI on the 12th, and if everything goes as is expected I'll have surgery on the 13th. I'll fly home on Friday the 15th. Out of necessity, Jason will be staying here with the kids. I'll be all alone. Sniff, sniff. No seriously. If I could have imagined I would be getting a week alone with part of that time being waited on hand and foot by nursing staff, I would have taken a hammer to that knee months ago!

In the meantime, I've been going through a forced life transformation. Yes, due to one too many forgotten appointments and misplaced bills, I'm getting organized. Don't laugh. I'm really gonna do it this time. I'm really, really gonna do it this time. I have a whole list of steps I'm taking to get my life on track. Now, if I could just remember where I put the list, I could get on with it.

The kids are getting ready for their school concert. Sometime late in August. I'll be taking pictures and hopefully posting video. (Once I figure out how to do that for a video that's over 15 seconds long) I have pictures to post, but I need to touch them up in Photoshop Elements and convert them from the RAW format. But since I just got the program, I have to figure out which end is up first. Keep a watch out.

Car registration was due today, had to have the car "inspected" before registration and we failed. Due to tyres (that's how they spell it) that aren't "road worthy". Which of course sent images streaming through my head of the kids and I riding down the road at mach speed when all four tyres suddenly explode at once. Shivers and shite, that's scary! And of course, since I can never do things before the last minute, I had to get a temporary permit (another $35) to drive the car home and to the tyre shop. But I guess it's not so bothersome considering we're avoiding a firey death.

So the next few days goes like this: getting new tires today, shopping for groceries and hitting the library. We have dance Saturday morning and a dinner party Saturday night. Mass on Sunday. Monday is an Australian holiday, Picnic day (whatever that is). Jay has to work but the kids and I will be having a "picnic" with friends.

That's it in a nutshell. Boy, we lead an exciting life don't we?

'Roo Rompin

Yesterday we decided to visit the Desert Park with friends. Since we had purchased a family membership on our last trip, and we were packing lunches, it turned out to be a nice, and free, way to spend an afternoon.

As you may know from a previous post, the Desert Park boasts plants and animals from all of the different types of desert environments in Australia. Lots of birds. Lots of rodents. They also have kangaroos. The Red Kangaroo. We were pleasantly surprised to find out that they had a few kids activities throughout the afternoon, to include a guided walk through the Red Kangaroo section of the park.

We set off with a group of adults and kids and were quickly able to get up close to a lovely young girl kangaroo. She was probably about 6 feet away. The guide promptly turns her back to the kanagroos and launches into her speech of how to distinguish red kangaroos from others, why they are so springy when they bounce, why they are light on the belly and dark on the back and other things that probably included how often they get their hair done and who their favorite rapper is. By this time, needless to say, I was zoning out.

Midway through her speech, a young boy raised his hand with a question. Our guide was excited about his interest and told him to ask away!

And that sweet little boy asks, all innocent like:

"Well...um...why did that other kangaroo climb up on that other kangaroos back?"

What? All adult heads snapped up at that one. That certainly got our attention. And sure enough, right behind the guide, just a few feet away from our impressionable children...


Of course this is not actual documentation of the event since I forgot to charge my camera and came unprepared. I pulled this off the net. Believe it or not, it's not that easy to find two humping kangaroos in a format I could swipe for this. But I thought it was important for effect so I persevered.

Now, I tell you. The realization of what was going on behind that guides back in full view of everyone is not the shocking part of this story. Well "shocking" is too strong a word. I should say, it's not what makes the story funny. What makes the story funny, is that it didn't stop. And the guide didn't stop or move.

I guess it would have been like losing a stare contest. Who's gonna blink first?

Those kangaroos just kept going. And that guide just kept talking. And we just kept listening, trying not to feel like we were peeping into someones bedroom windows.

And every once in a while, my friend, in a loud whisper would say behind me:

"Will you look at that?"

or

"Man, she's gotta be getting tired?"

Then the guide starts to pass around a wood and spring contraption that emulates the kangaroos legs. You push it down and it snaps back. A serious accident waiting to happen for these kids - well at least my kids. Sure enough, the wood's slapping back and people are getting hit with it. So there we all are. Our little group in the middle of the Desert Park in central Australia, humping, talking, more humping, slapping wood, kids screaming from the pain of getting hit with the wood, more humping and my friend's ever present voice behind me going "Bet she wishes he'd just leave her alone!"

After the excitement had died down, the guide went on to explain that they are fairly young kangaroos and that the boy must have been "practicing" since he's not actually of the age yet to be doing that kind of thing.

I blame the rap music.

"Standley, Standley, Standley!!!!" Chant with me now...

Ok. Let's face it, I'm private school ignorant. And since the kids are now attending a private school, I find myself often wondering if the differences I see are actually between public and private school or between American and Australian school. I assume they are a mixture of both.

Take for instance...houses. Now those of you who have read Harry Potter, have probably become acquainted with the idea of "houses" within school. And no, "houses" aren't just for wizard school. Although wizard school would offer a good explanation of some of the strange happenings around the Cavanagh household - but I digress. There are four houses at OLSH. Each with their own name and color. I could name them all but, well truthfully, I don't remember all the names. Except for one...Standley. That's the one that Cole and Brady belong to. Grace will belong to Standley too when she enters next year. Families stay in the same house. (Just like Harry's friend Ron and his brothers). Standley's color is red. You are assigned a house when you start at OLSH and remain in that house throughout each year of your education. Which means when we have a total school gathering of the houses, each house has representatives from all grades, seniors down to tranies (transitioners). The houses compete against each other in sporting events, school spirit and, well...volume.

A couple of weeks ago our Bath Street campus (Tranie through Year 4) held their annual sports day. Grace and I came along to offer support and cheer (rather loudly) for our house. After all, gotta help get that volume ribbon. They had various sports day activities before they split into houses and got ready for the big "relay race". I missed most of the small activities since I had to pick Grace up from school. Kind of glad since I would have been expected to help and let's just say...sports ain't my thing. Lack of coordination and all.

Anyhoo, I made it for lunch (yes they eat on the ground outside)...

and the "relay race".

Are you wondering why I keep putting "relay race" in quotes? It's because what was dubbed a "relay race" had no relay to it at all. They went by age and Brady was in the first heat. (Don't I sound like a sport commentator when I say "heat"?)

Here's my baby.


Check out the concentration. She's probably thinking "I'm gonna kick some green, blue and yellow butt!". Doubt she knew all those stupid names either.

Here's the start.


And they're off!


And she ran. She didn't place but she did get a beautiful purple ribbon that says "Competitor". And she didn't come back. I was all set to see them turn and run back but they didn't. They ran one way - no relay about it.

Cole came in last in his race. I can't quite understand it. His form is beautiful. All grace, strength and sinewy lines. What do you think?


Poor kid. Takes after his Momma.

Check out the rest of the Sports Day pics.

Sports Day

He Said, She Said and Getting My Just Dues

About a year after Jason and I married, we took a cruise. The trip was grand and I could post many a story about it. Maybe I will one day. Maybe I'll never get around to it. (Well, I know it's what y'all are thinking!) But I will share one with you. One that has affected our entire marriage to date. Funny how little things can carry through the years, huh?

We flew into Santo Domingo to meet our boat (like I said - whole other story). We spent a morning there and decided to kill time by walking down to look out on the vastness of the ocean. We took our camera of course. While sitting and enjoying the scenery and each other's company, I shot a picture of the water crashing on the rocks. It was a perfect scene, the resulting spray was glorious. And surprisingly (since you never know with my pics) the shot turned out beautifully! So a couple of weeks later, Jason and I are sitting in our Reese Road living room, skimming through the bajillion photos we had taken (only three of which actually had people in them) when I run across and recognize this rather perfect shot and say "Wow! I took a really great picture. Look at this one." to him. Only to have Jason say "What are you talking about? I took that shot!".

And so it began.

For years now Jason and I have been battling over who took what shot. It's rather annoying. For those of you who know me well, you know that my memory generally stinks. But the truth of the matter is, when I do remember, I remember well. There is generally no hem-hawing over how it went down. I know how it went down! Am pretty damn sure of it to be certain! If I say I took the picture, then you better believe...I took the picture!!! (Are you reading this Jason?)

But, as you can probably understand, it's usually easier to just say, "Ok honey, I was wrong. You took the photo and it's a great photo!". (Advise to wives - it's important to leave out any hints of sarcasm.)

But no more.

So what brought me to this point? The breaking point? The boiling point? The I Ain't Taken No More Photo Crap point? Sunset at Anzac Hill! We decided to take the family up last week and get in a few shots practice with my manual adjustment technique (which stinks by the way). We get back and, low and behold, what should happen when I download the pics but we start with the photo bickering. So this time I had one on him. Since Jason took only "Auto" photos and mine were manually adjusted, I could easily go back to the camera card and figure out who took what.

He took this.


And this.



Both are wonderful. I won't begrudge him his great pics!

But I took this.


And this.

And the one at the top. While they may not be professional photos, they aren't too bad. And they're MINE!! (Boy do I sound like a five year old or what?) Hey, I only want my just dues, man!

Man Above Men

This is my husband. Love of my life. Father of my children.



This is my husband in his recliner. I equate it to a good, long soak in a hot bath for a woman. Once you get in, you don't ever want to get out. You only have to run more hot water every now and again to make yourself more comfortable. Kind of like when he adjusts the pillows behind his back or scratches his butt.



This is my baby with my baby. Doing crafts.



This is what she made.



This is what he made.



And this. He made her very happy.



He's a good Daddy.

Some of you may have noticed his comment on my last post. If not, go look now so you can be fully in the-know. He's a bit peeved. Feeling unappreciated and put-upon. (I'll post one day about how that is now my favorite phrase..."put-upon", I use it quite a lot)

Let's go over the background why don't we? Last year, my husband got 2, count them 1 - 2, Father's Days. How? you ask. Well, that's because the Australians celebrate Father's Day in September. One of the many differences between our country. And of course one that would probably go unnoticed if we had not arrived here just before their Father's Day and right after ours. So he had two.

So this year, we joked (a long time ago mind you) that he would only be getting one this year. And that one would be the one that's celebrated here. Because I was certain that if we celebrated in June, he would be feeling unappreciated and put-upon come September when the whole thing takes on a roll here. So "When in Rome...", eh?

And truthfully, I didn't realize that Father's Day weekend had snuck up on us in the States. (Very sorry about that Daddy and Fred). Teresa filled me in when I was on the phone with her this morning. And Jason had no idea either until I (stupidly) mentioned it to him. So today has been filled with vague references to the lack of love and gratitude shown by his family.

So this is for him:

Jason, you are a wonderful husband and father. We love you. We appreciate you. You are strong, handsome and, dare I say?, virile. No man or father compares to you. Oh to be graced with such greatness in our own home humbles us. We are truly unworthy of you and your love. Thank you for your kindness, your presence, your knowledge, your patience and your understanding. There is no one more deserving of two Father's Day celebrations. We were wrong for neglecting you.
With all our love, Your Family

There, that should hold him until September. Now excuse me while I go throw-up. I Joke! I Joke!

Chasm Schmasm

Hurry Angie! Take the picture, I can't hold it much longer!

A cute picture of my boy.

After dance, lunch and a quick cleaning run through the house (still grossly lacking), we decided to embark on an afternoon adventure...a little outing to Standley Chasm. How exciting! I've wanted to go since I saw the beautiful photos from Fred and Jason's trip a couple of months ago. And of course, this would give me a great opportunity to play the photographer bit myself. You see, I'm trying to learn the tricks of the trade. After being gifted a nice digital Cannon that will let me manually adjust the settings, I've been diligently studying f-stops, shutter speeds and the camera's mechanics. But I haven't really had much opportunity to put it all to the test.

With visions of Fred's lovely photos dancing in my head, I eagerly anticipated the trip. Jason and I discussed ISO settings on the way up. You know Jason, seems to know something about most things, and even though I haven't seen him adjust any camera's settings in the 10+ years we've been together, I wasn't surprised that he knew what he was talking about. And of course he spoke to me with that authoritative voice of knowledgeable teacher speaking to lowly, uneducated student. Men!

Well, let me tell you, I was sorely disappointed. And since denial is a normal state of being for me, I blame the Chasm. And the lighting. And the camera of course. It could never, never be user error! That would be just too depressing!

I took lots of photos of trees (they all looked so cool when I was stumbling past) and plenty of my family's retreating backs (I was too busy constantly adjusting my settings to keep up). None really scream out at me. Most are too dark and the coloring seems a bit off. It's a mix of the overexposed, underexposed and downright uninteresting. But I had fun.

Double click to see the fruits of my labor. No laughing or tsk-ing allowed. Like I said, it wasn't really my fault.

Standley Chasm

Brady Gets Her Ears Pierced

Brady's almost 6 and she finally gets her ears pierced!

Picking out the earrings. Won't even go into how long that took.

Waiting to get the marker (texta) dots to mark the spots.

Janine - she was wonderful.

Here's where they'll go.

More waiting.

More waiting.

What we're waiting for (other than the earrings).

OK, here goes. So very, very brave.

Not so very brave anymore.

Yes, I'm dedicated to the documentation of this monumental event. But that's where the photos stop and Mummy's consolation begins.


And, later that night, the finished product.....

After observing all of this and on the way back to the car:

Gracie: Mom, when will I get my ears pierced?

Me: Maybe next year sweetie. When you're able to take care of them yourself.

Gracie (crying): But I don't want to get my ears pierced!!!

Gracie also refuses to every marry. She doesn't want to have babies. Says it hurts.

What to do on a lazy morning?

My husband cooked for me last night. Well, technically for the children too. But who do you think more appreciated the effort? And it was good. It put us all in a very pleasant mood so we decided to head out for Saturday night mass, even in the nasty rain. Mass was uneventful except for having to cross the alter when all three kids had to go potty. Having the restroom only accessible via the alter puts you in quite a position as a mother. You ask yourself "Do I take them during mass or just let them wet themselves?". Let me tell you, it's a tough decision. At first you kind of disregard the request, as if the whole urge will disappear. Soon though, you have to face facts. Take the bull by the horns and drag those kids up the alter or risk a puddle on the kneeler. Although I've seen people slip back there before, I still feel as though mass will just pause and everyone will stare at us. Or, worse yet, lightning will strike down from the heavens. Oh, and you have to time your flush. Better to do it when the music can drown it out, or else Father Raas' mic will pic it up and amplify it for the entire congregation to hear - just in case some of them missed you slipping up there.

I digress. This post was supposed to be about the fun morning we had since we didn't have to get up and go to church. Mid-morning we were still lounging in our jammies when my neighbor called. She had a couple of kids spend the night last night and was trying to figure out what to do with everyone to kill some time. She came up with face painting. And since I'm not one to be left out, and since I knew she would have coffee on, I crashed the party.

Here are the results.





One of the big kids did Grace's.



And no, I have no idea what kind of water splashing party her kids had to make the mirror behind Grace's head look so disgusting. But I do know she'll kill me if she ever finds out I posted the picture!

And since Jasmine (the big kid) got to paint faces too and none of the little ones could, I decided to do the only right thing. Offer myself up as a kiddie canvas!!!!!!



Yes...I need my roots done. And yes...I need a shower. But don't I look marvelous?

Dumb ol' American

ANZed


If I haven't mentioned it before, I will now. Sometimes living in another country just makes me feel like a Dumb ol' American. I am likely to actually be considered a Dumb ol' American by a lot of people, maybe even some Americans (I know it's hard to imagine - I'm so cool and all). Anyway, things that make me feel stupid? Well, let's see. The metric system. The metric system makes me feel stupid. I know, I know, it's just numbers. But when I start to get all confused (often), I just get flustered (understandable) and I throw the tape measure (or my shoe) at the nearest Australian (or non-metric-challenged individual)and scream "I give up".

The fact that I still find it hard to understand people who are speaking English, that makes me feel stupid. But they talk so fast. And I have this whole hearing issue when there is background noise (no really, it's not just an excuse). I constantly find myself saying things like "I'm Sorry?", "Excuse Me?", "Come Again?". That makes me feel stupid.

The fact that I have no idea what some of their words mean when I do hear what they say, that makes me feel stupid. Like when they tell kids to use their "Textas" (markers) or when that guy needed me to get him a pen and he called it something else (never actually figured out what) and he finally had to use sign language.

Or like when I live her for 9 months, always telling (probably hundreds of) people "You know, right down the street from the ANZ bank." Or "Across from the ANZ". Only to be corrected by my husband one day that it's actually the AN-Zed. They call Z zed here, as do most English speaking countries other than the US (gotta love Wikipedia), and I, being confident of and secure in my alphabet knowledge, was too dimwitted to realize it - FOR 9 MONTHS! That makes me feel stupid.

How embarassing.

Mrs. Wishy Washy

Entertainment News
In the small central Australian town of Alice Springs, Mrs. Smith's Transition class put on a production of Mrs. Wishy Washy today at Our Lady of the Sacred Heart College class assembly. Mrs. Wishy Washy is the gripping tale of a cow, a pig and a duck, jumping, rolling and paddling through the mud. Discovered by Mrs. Wishy Washy and wishy washied up, only to jump right back in again. Starring in the pivotal roll of "the cow" was the up and coming star, Brady Cavanagh. As you can see, her performance was riveting. I smell an Oscar.

(Keep an eye out - Brady comes jumping from the left)

Mrs. Wishy Washy

The Definition of Sacrilege

sac·ri·lege
Pronunciation[sak-ruh-lij]
–noun
the violation or profanation of anything sacred or held sacred.



Now before all of our Pats Peeps start getting downright belligerent, let me say that Brady loves, loves, loves this bandanna (aka doo-rag). She wears it on her hair because she has flyaway, static-y stuff and it keeps it out of her eyes. She also wears it on her hair because we won't allow her to wear it as a shirt - yes a shirt - that's how she rolls. We won't allow the shirt because it doesn't actually stay up and soon becomes a skirt - not cool when your 5 year old is running around outside with no shirt and a bandanna around her waist. She also likes to wear it because she know she looks cool.

Now when I wore my Tampa Bay t-shirt (you will remember these are goodies received from our wonderful cheerleader friends when they visited), Jason looked very stern and said (in his voice that brooks no arguments) "You do realize that this will have to stop don't you?" He scared me, he really did. So to keep the same from happening with my sweet little breakable girl, I am tasking the people of Mass. Find us a Pats doo-rag. That way we can get rid of the Bucs doo-doo-rag.

Man I crack myself up!

School Photos

I was too cheap to buy the individual photos. After all, have you seen the prices for these things?!?!? All the students rushing out to their Mums with head shots or sibling photos (yes, they do that too) were so excited. Here come my two with their class pics going "but where is the one of us". Although I know that logically, yes, I can take a better photo than those horrid school shots with weird backgrounds (don't you dare question my abilities!!!!), I also know that having those in a photo album to show their kids one day might be important to them.

The guilt. I'll make a good Catholic.

Oh well, the kids will have to suck it up. They can just work all of it out with their therapist when they're grown.

Brady - 2nd from right, middle row.



Cole - 2nd from right, top row.

It's A Man Thing - Part Deux

"Billy goat terrain" That's what Jason calls the land they trekked to Emily Gap. To walk 4 1/2 miles, it took them 4 1/2 hours. They arrived to meet us sweaty, achy, tired and hungry. Luckily I brought the old picnic staple - Kentucky Fried. Yes we have Kentucky Fried Chicken here and it gives me a source of endless pleasure to see the caricatures of Colonel Sanders on the walls. Makes me feel like I'm stepping into any KFC in the states. One big problem...no Extra Crispy on the menu - only Original Recipe! Just when I thought I could delve into a big bucket o' crispy goodness...

Anyway, I digress. The girls and I stayed for an hour or so to feed our guys. Then we literally dumped all their gear and hit the road - singing about how girls are cool and planning our toenail painting session! Jason called after dark - said he had to walk 2 miles to get reception - gross exaggeration! They were doing fine and would see us at 7:30 am for the pick-up. It got down to 40 last night and I slept (peacefully) with the phone beside the bed just in case they should need rescuing. Turns out they slept pretty peacefully too. They were warm enough - only cold when the had to crawl out of the sleeping bags at the crack of dawn. They ate dried chicken and rice and dried scrambled eggs. Mom (ever the hero) showed up with McDonald's bags in tow. Cole was elated, Jason just irritated. Acting like the food they ate was so yummy and filling - ha - I laugh at this!

Two Person Tent - $250
Tiny, Tiny, Tiny Pocket Size Stove - $35
Dried Meal in a Bag - $10
Male Bonding - Father and Son Style - Priceless

It's A Man Thing

Jason and Cole have been planning a man's trip into the Australian bush since we've arrived. So the other day, I wasn't surprised to find lots of "stuff" (that's a substituted word - but after all, we are a family friendly site) saved in our Amazon account, ready to order for use on the very manly excursion! It included a two person tent, lots of packaged food items (like dried chili mac - bluh!) and another, yes another, stove. This is the third one, but it's different because it will practically fit in your pocket. Just what every family needs!

So today was the day of departure. The men will be hiking about 4 1/2 miles to Emily Gap to camp. Since one of the men is actually a munchkin man, Jason was having a hard time figuring out how he would carry all of the equipment to the Gap. I suggested that they carry a few provisions and the girls and I would meet them there, have a picnic, drop their gear and leave them to scratch and fart their way through the night. Excellent idea (of course women are the true intellectual superiors). Well actually it was Mom's idea upon hearing our frustration - but it was a woman nonetheless.

These are my guys heading out.



A little further now.



Of course about 1 hour into it, Jason calls on the new cell phone (to check that it's working). When asked how far they've gotten he replied (half whispering with a bit of frustration) "Not very far".

Stay tuned for another installment...

Say No to Crack.

Ok I couldn't resist the title or the shot. Sent Thing 3 to time-out. It had gotten too quiet (you know the very loud and noticeable sound of no sound at all). Went to investigate and this is what I found. Nothin' cuter than baby butt!



More butt:



And I better not get any "How could you put this angel in time out?" comments. I can't quite remember exactly what she did but it was a punishable offense.


And we can't be swayed by her innocent looking face. I'm hardened to it...she can't get to me...she'll have to do better than this...those pinchable cheeks won't sway me...


Oh forget it! She's a cute little thing isn't she?!