Degrees of doldrum

I'm done!  After taking the best part of 8 years to complete my degree, I've finally finished.  And truth be told, it's been a little anticlimactic.  I was expecting a huge rush of triumph... but it didn't happen.

Finishing up was spread over a couple of months.  I handed in my last paper, a few weeks later I got the results.  Then I had to finish the practical aspects... the required client hours and clinical supervision.  The final supervision session was delayed as I ended up in A&E with Pickle (who had fractured his arm, but coped really well in plaster and is fine now)... and then it was done.

I had to finish up at my placement venue as I was no longer a student, yet the required meetings and paperwork hadn't been completed in order to offer me a position.  So I set to spring cleaning my house, de-cluttering our wardrobes and the accumulation of toys (this is still a work in progress).  I had the meetings, signed the paperwork and a couple of days later I was back in the workplace having only missed two days of work (I've chosen to work part-time as a good balance for my own mental health and well-being particularly as a single parent).

The beautiful flowers on my desk at work
with obligatory photo of my gorgeous Pickle

BigTed sent me a gorgeous bunch of my favourite flowers to celebrate my first day as a fully-qualified paid counsellor... and as they are opening up they smell stunning.

And don't get me wrong, I am ecstatic that I was offered a position doing the work I love.

Over the coming weeks I'll need to do some delightful paperwork *yawn*, to apply to graduate... in May 2015... so I'm not sure when, or even if, I'm going to a celebratory *woohoo* moment.

Has this ever happened to you?  Did you get your *woohoo* eventually?  What triggered it? And what happened if you didn't get that lightbulb moment?

Cheers, KangaRue :)
BAppSocSc (Couns)  - well, that's the first time I've written that and admittedly it feels pretty good

Freaking Out

That's how I'm feeling right now. I've got a major assignment looming, am only current on the current week of my university work (as opposed to ahead so I can actually *do* the assignment), the house is a mess, I need to find a second student placement (and believe me the first one was a struggle to find though it ended up awesome). Oh, and somewhere in there I need to be a mother and have a life.

I had the flu for almost three weeks. Which meant any advances I made, promptly disappeared. And then we had three public holidays in a two week period. Now for most people, this means extra study time... but as a solo parent, not so much.

So I'm feeling a little overwhelmed. I felt my anxiety levels rising quite dramatically this morning. So I've done some mindfulness meditation - I am a little bit in love with Smiling Mind at the moment. I've then cracked on with it, asked my tutor for an extension on the assignment, and I'm using this post to clear my head a bit before hitting the books again.

Do you ever feel like a huge wave is about to come crashing down on you? How do you manage the anxiety it produces?

Cheers, KangaRue :)

Nailed It

I've been seething since the weekend. A parent of one of Pickle's friends told him "you'll have to stop Mummy painting your nails in a few years". I turned around and politely told this man that Pickle actually asks me to paint his nails and chooses the colour each time.

The "offending" toes - outrageous!

I'm allowing Pickle to express his individuality as he wants. He wants to put the pretty colours on his toes, like Mummy does. Is he likely to want to conform to gender norms down the track? Probably. But it will be his choice, not something I'm going to force on him.

Pickle has a tea set, he has a baby doll he nurtures, along with a myriad of stuffed toys.  Not to mention Lulu and Hermes, who are subjected to his attentions he also adores. He also has a Buzz Lightyear, dinosaurs, light sabers, laser guns and a train set. He plays with the lot, in fact the dinosaurs often have tea parties.

As a society we're (still) figuring out that girls/women are as capable boys/men - if I had a girl, I'd be buying her Goldieblox.  If you don't know what they are, there are some excellent videos on YouTube here and here, and a fantastic TEDtalk.

Can we do the same for our boys/men please? (But in reverse, if that makes any sense?) They can be - and indeed are - loving, caring and nurturing.

Picture from Stonewall UK - a great resource site

And what about Rainbow individuals? As a counsellor, I particularly want to work with children, young people and their families. The risk figures around mental health and suicide sky-rockets for Rainbow youth. By raising Pickle to be accepting of all people, I hope he'll be an influencer in his generation on acceptance of all people.

If I painted that man's toe nails, would it change his sexuality or preferred gender? I promise to get off my soapbox soon, but would really love it if you watched this video that asks the question gay people get asked all the time... and this mind-expanding TEDtalk about transgender youth.

As a girl, I think I had the best of both worlds, I had dolls (and cats) I dressed up, but I also climbed trees, and rode both a bike and a skateboard... I'd like for Pickle to have the same opportunities.

Do your boys paint their toe nails or play with tea sets? Do you allow your girls to build with blocks or train sets? 

Cheers, KangaRue :)

PS. Thanks for allowing me my rant!

Pickle is Two-Twooot!

I wrote this post about six months ago. Then went looking for the invite photo, as I wanted to show off B2's fab handiwork - he did a great job encapsulating the image I had in my head, and managed to capture my rambling descriptions perfectly. But I couldn't find the image, and thinking it would eventually turn up I waited. And waited some more. And then didn't blog other stuff because I thought this should be posted first. So since Pickle's third birthday is rapidly approaching, and I'm already tossing ideas around about his party, here is the post about his second birthday, sans invite image (sorry B2).

*****

I love birthdays. So when Pickle's birthday is approaching, I can't help but get excited about preparing his celebration.

For his first birthday, he had a Very Hungry Caterpillar theme... Invites, balloons and some of the food was themed. I tossed around loads of ideas for his second birthday, but decided that he would get more out of some of the themes when he was a bit older. But I'm getting ahead of myself...

I normally manage to stretch my own birthday celebrations out over a week. Pickle had a birthday month! With no less than three birthday cakes.

Pickle's 2nd birthday cake (Part 1) for playcare

Because we were going to be in Western Australia with my Outlaws on the actual day, his celebrations at playcare happened before we went. I decided to take the easy route for this one and use a packet. The first dairy-free packet I used was a disaster, so I had to make a second cake, so not the quick and easy option I'd hoped for. Purple icing and the sides covered with a mix of sprinkles rescued it though, and I was reasonably happy with the end result.

Nanna's marshmallow covered birthday cake

Off we went to the Outlaws. My MoL made a delicious orange cake - her normal recipe, substituted with Pickle'a dairy-free spread... But it was a little warm when she tried to ice it, and the icing ended up in a puddle. She did an awesome restoration with marshmallows - Pickle's treat of choice. I love this photo of him blowing out the candles.

We returned to Hervey Bay for his official celebrations. There are some great playgrounds here, one of Pickle's favourites being the train park (that's what the locals call it, it's official name is the Ernie Organ park). So with a fantastic location, a train theme seemed obvious. I found some Thomas the Tank engine loot bags, so it was just the invitation and cake that really needed theming.

I knew what I wanted as his invite in my head, but my computer capabilities limit me somewhat. BigTed's son B2 came to the rescue. Not only is he one of Pickle's favourite people, but he is a whizz technically and talented creatively, and he managed to translate my wobbly ideas onto paper with a great result.

I decided to bake the cake from scratch after my last "shortcut". My darling friend Chaz, is a chef, and had pointed me to a recipe for a dairy-free (vegan) chocolate cake for Pickle's birthday. It was a huge hit that time, and I surprised people by telling them it contained avocado. I kid you not. There is no dairy, but a gorgeous creaminess. I used neon colours in the dairy-free "butter" icing and decorated the cake with various Pickle-friendly lollies. Pickle was thrilled it was a yellow toot-toot (his favourite colour).

Pickle's train cake - not sure I'll be able to top this!

Even BigTed's big boys got into the action

We had a lovely day, we played pass-the-parcel, the kids played with his new toys, and the train playground *eventually* got a look-in. It was an absolutely brilliant day.

The final celebration came right on the end of the month. Our cats, Lulu and Hermes finally arrived from London.

We missed you!

After a couple of false starts, nine months had passed since we last saw them. Pickle was excited - he even had a sign to hold up at the airport! They've settled in really nicely and Pickle is learning to be quiet and gentle with them. Hermes was always his best friend, and he puts up with a lot of hugs and enthusiastic squealing.

Not sure I'll be able to top this next year! Shall I start thinking of themes now? (Ideas welcome).

Cheers, KangaRue :)

I'm a cyclist. And a mother.

I've just got back from the Hervey Bay police station, after having a very near miss with another car this morning. There have been a number of incidences since I started cycling in Hervey Bay (after years of cycling on the much narrower, more congested and busier London roads). While the other incidences have been due to the lack of care and ignorance of the drivers, this one was reckless and possibly even malicious. Worse yet, I had 2-year old Pickle on the cargo-bike with me.

I follow the road rules. Unfortunately it appears that many local drivers aren't aware that cyclists are legitimate road users. That we are allowed to take the centre of the lane on a multi-lane road*. I had been keeping to the left even on multi-lane roads, but found the ridiculously close passing put me in more danger than if I kept to the middle of my lane, though I now receive aggressive horn blasts and abuse hurtled at me through open car windows.

Don't get me wrong, the majority of drivers are friendly, safe and welcoming. In fact, on the way home a car slowed down and waved encouragement - this was not the first time. In addition to favourable goodwill from drivers, I've also had enthusiasm from motor-bike riders and pedestrians; young, old and middle aged people.

So why, when it takes an entire 15-minutes to drive from one end of Hervey Bay to another, do some drivers have such an aggressive sense of entitlement on the road?

The Amy Gillett Foundation has a vision to eliminate bicycle related fatalities and is spreading the word about 'a metre matters'. There is currently an e-petition that will be put in front of the Queensland Legislative Assembly in four days time, advocating for a minimum safe passing distance - I would love it if (as a Queensland resident or citizen) you would please sign it. Aussies can also easily write to their MPs (templates and contact details).

Others have written more eloquently about a cyclist always coming off worse
in a collision with a motor vehicle - there's not only the unprotected impact, but the risk of being thrown into - under - the path of another car. Though I can't seem to find any links to the articles at the moment, unfortunately. (See update below).

I'm a single mother, caring for a two year old. Part of simplifying my life, not least reducing the exorbitant
costs of car ownership (purchase price, tax, insurance, petrol, maintenance etc) has been to go car-free. I'm also physically and mentally healthier, am introducing Pickle to a healthier way of life in an era of increasing obesity, and just generally enjoying our day-to-day life more fully.

How do we get a message out to drivers that cyclists are not only legitimate road users, but (in my case) also someone's mother, daughter, sister, friend???

Cheers, KangaRue :)

* this is not meant as legal advice; road rules can differ from state to state within Australia.

UPDATE: An incredibly well put article: In the US and the Netherlands, two children on bikes are struck by cars—and the responses couldn’t be more different. 

Pickle's Ponderings

I believe that Pickle ponders. He may only be two years old, but he has an amazing recall and I do think that he reflects. I try and spend some time at the end of each day remembering the good things he experienced and his achievements throughout the day. I'm not saying he's amazingly gifted, though perhaps he is (hey, I'm a proud Mummy after all)... and maybe I've been encouraging Systems Thinking without even realising it.

After watching the below video - which is part of my current study materials - perhaps I'm not so barmy after all.  The concepts in this video blew me away, and is well worth the ten minutes of viewing - I honestly do not know anyone who couldn't learn something from it...

Simple concepts, and something I would love to see more involved automatically throughout education, needless to say the wider community (I won't start ranting about Australian politics and the media, promise!).

So what do you think, is it possible for a two year old to ponder? Are there any other ways you can suggest I can include Systems (Reflective) thinking with Pickle?

Cheers, KangaRue :)

Car-free at last!

It has been a while since I've blogged. Many apologies to my discerning readers... while I doubt many (any?) of you have been waiting with bated breath for my next installment, I do have lots to tell you.

The beautiful bride, Pickle's
Aunty Catherine & his new Uncle

In the interim not only have I been studying, but Pickle and I travelled across the country to see my Outlaws, for a family wedding and so BoyWonder could visit with Pickle too. Pickle was obviously a hit, they were very welcoming, it was good for that side of the family to get to know Pickle more, and was relatively angst free. Sure, there were some *ahem* challenging moments, but considering the situation (divorce, annual visitation etc.), it could have been a lot worse.

I've given up trying to find paid work in the Mental Health industry - the jobs I have applied for have each had 135+ applicants. As a Student Placement is required to do the next few subjects and in order to complete my counselling degree, I decided it would be pertinent to offer myself up as a volunteer. Now, being a hard-working, enthusiastic, engaged advocate for all areas of mental health, with a Distinction average for my subjects, you think I'd be snapped up, right?

There was lots of opportunity
to try out Pickle's "muddy puddle
boots" (I blame Peppa Pig)

Apparently not in Hervey Bay. I've called upward of SIXTY organisations, with no luck so far. Some have seemed promising, then the return phone calls dry up. Frustrating only begins to describe it. I'm pondering whether there is any point even trying to finish my degree.

On a brighter note, I now have my cargo bike. Pickle and I are car-free! Avid readers and my Twitter followers (those I mentioned earlier, hanging on with bated breath, no doubt) will recall my moaning about the disastrous saga that started almost a year ago with the first cargo bike company I dealt with. The Dutch company based in Melbourne was a complete customer service fail. Firstly an incorrect stock count meant none of my first four colour preferences were available, then shipping delays (admittedly out of the distributor's control)...

So the bike that I had hoped to receive in early December, then promised pre-Christmas 2012, eventually arrived on 12th January 2013. Except it wasn't the e-bike I had ordered and paid for. And that's when the somewhat patchy customer service to this point, took an absolute nose-dive; I was talked-over, condescended to and insulted. So it was arranged that this bike would be sent back and I would get the new bike in two to three weeks.  I was promised - in three separate written messages - that the bike would arrive fully assembled, and I would only need to put four bolts in to attach the box to the bike.

And then the bike arrived on 4th February 2013. Not only was it not assembled, it was missing not only the lights, but the entire braking system... a somewhat key element to safe riding, don't you think?

Our first ride on our
Christiania cargobike!

Needless to say, the bike was returned and I went back to the drawing board... and via Twitter, I was recommended the lovely Peter at PSbikes.

You can fit a surprising amount
in the cargobike!

While there was a delay in getting the bike, it was more than made up for by the charming customer service I received with door-to-door delivery, fully assembled and customised! The Christiania bike is made in Denmark, and I believe the Scandinavian engineering is slightly superior. Both Pickle and I love the bike and it's been getting lots of attention on our outings.

Pickle "drumming" with BigTed

On an even brighter note, things are going really well with BigTed, but
more on that later...

Cheers, KangaRue :)

Comparisons (Dating as a Single Parent IV)

Thoughtfulness is a big deal to me. Great wads of money aren't necessary. Taking the time to listen to what someone needs and then helping them find that, means so much more.

I've mentioned before that Pickle is allergic to dairy protein. It's not been anywhere near as difficult as I'd initially imagined. But it does mean I have to read labels constantly as you'd be amazed at some things that dairy can turn up in - I've found it in everything from sausages to hummus.

On an earlier coffee date, BigTed took me to one of the local coffee shops I'd yet to try (brownie points) then led me to a nearby shop called Nana's Kitchen. Just to check if they had dairy-free Easter Eggs for Pickle.

So when Sparky invited Pickle and I out for a picnic, then the day of taking us, asked me to sort Pickle's lunch as there was a specific bread he wanted to buy for lunch and he "didn't want to check if it had milk in it", didn't bode well. I had, in fact, already made Pickle's lunch along with snacks for the day, as this is what a Mummy of a kid with allergies does. But...

So onto the inaugural evening date with BigTed that I'm sure you've all been chaffing-at-the-bit to find out about (of course you're all living vicariously through my dodgy love-life)...

My lovely friend Deb, arrived early to play with Pickle so he knew she was there, and we went through the bedtime routine which fortuitously was a breeze. I madly dashed around doing hair and make-up having previously checked with a *ahem* number of stylish friends on which dress option to go with (thanks Mikey, Katy, Liam and Brett). Accessorised with fabulous jewellery, bag and amazing, ridiculously high and glamorous shoes (of course). I honestly haven't been this nervous about getting ready for a date in yonks.

And then BigTed arrived. With a spray of orchids. Oh. Em. Gee.

I didn't know where we were going for dinner. So I was pleasantly surprised when we pulled up in front of Aegean Waters, Hervey Bay's French restaurant. I love Paris. It's my favourite city in the world, a fact that BigTed had obviously latched onto somewhere during dates one to six.

We ordered escargot to start and mandarin duckling for mains (delicious) and split a chocolate mousse for dessert. I'm a foodie, I eat on dates. No apologies.

The snails and duck were both new discoveries for BigTed, but he happily leapt in (a hugely appealing attribute) and loved them both (ridiculously satisfying for me, especially as it wasn't me cooking).

We went for a drive along the foreshore, stopped at a scenic spot and... Talked. Hah, had you there for a minute didn't I?! Yes, we'd been talking over dinner. But it was more relaxed and since we're not teenagers, it would be a bit contrived to be snogging in a car, surely?

BigTed asked if he could show me his house (don't get ahead of yourself, where did it get you last time?!) where he did eventually kiss me. It was great. I may have wondered - out loud (Freudian slip?) - what had taken him so long... And then he took me home again. Well, maybe not immediately, but that didn't happen, he was an utter gentleman and there was no presumption, which was really nice and terribly appealing.

I may have dissected the date with Deb when I got home. Not least because she was a little surprised I was on my own. There will be an 8th date! I may even stop counting them.

So how do you break-up with someone (Sparky) that you haven't even held hands with?

Cheers, KangaRue :)

Tiny Chaperone (Dating as a Single Parent III)

Dating as a single and "older" Mummy is definitely different from my dating experiences when I was in my 20s. Gone are the cocktails. The requisite sky-high heels. Late nights, when I only worried about getting the last train home, and - depending on the day - the necessity to drag myself out of bed for work the next morning.

These days, it's scheduling coffee or lunch (hopefully) while Pickle is napping. I used to think people shouldn't introduce their kids to prospective partners until at least a few months into a relationship. As a single parent, this just isn't an option - for me anyway. Pickle goes to nursery twice a week, which is great for his development and also gives me time to study for my counselling degree, hunt for a student placement/work role and do a spot of procrastinating blogging. I have to stay focussed on my work days, it would be too easy to fritter them away.

Both Sparky and BigTed are single Dads, so they are both pretty understanding. BigTed and I have had dates at the local playgrounds and gone for cycles. Sparky took us for a picnic and swim at a nearby tourist spot.

But here's the dilemma. I've now been on five or six dates with each of these guys, and haven't so much as held hands with either of them. I can't snog* someone with my toddler watching, that just seems so wrong.

It now seems like such a big deal as well.

BigTed has suggested taking me out for dinner for our next date. This would obviously require a babysitter. So do I divulge my private life to my parents? I know I'm an adult, but talking to my parents about dating makes me feel like an awkward teenager again. And that wasn't a great experience the first time around, so I'm loathe to experience it again. My lovely friend Deb has offered to Pickle-sit should I need it, but I hate asking for favours from people. While they adore each other, I want to make sure it's a worthwhile endeavour... is BigTed worth it? Or should I take the opportunity to have an evening date with Sparky instead? The resounding response on both the blog and Twitter was definitely in BigTed's favour last time, so perhaps the universe has already decided?!

So how do other people do this? Is the lack of snogging* surmountable?

Cheers, KangaRue :)

* for the non-English readers, that means kiss (pash for the Aussies, but I hate that word with a passion - no pun intended)

Dating as a Single Parent (II)

I want to subtitle this blog: Good Grief, he's a Muso.

But that would be getting ahead of myself.

I get few moments of non-toddler sanity peace and quiet most days. One day a week, I take Pickle to a swimming class. He inevitably has a bite of lunch after his lesson, we splash in the outside pool and slides and then more lunch... before Pickle slips into a deep and lengthy sleep (I consider anything over 45 minutes a lengthy nap these days). I then sneak in lunch with a friend, or a peaceful coffee on my own, while Pickle sleeps in his pram.

I chose a new venue for lunch recently; there are many cafes along the Esplanade, and I'm slowly working my way through them. It was buzzing, and I managed to grab the last table as the previous occupants left. Perusing the menu, I was approached to see if I'd mind sharing the table. And that's when I met... let's call him BigTed. Not only does the Aussie Play School connotation appeal due to my new locale, but this guy is tall - a foot taller than my meager 5'2, solid and age appropriate (in a town filled with backpackers and OAPs, this final point is not to be sniffed at).

We started chatting. He made me laugh. And then I found out he's a muso. Good grief. I've never been one to desire the proverbial "I'm with the band" t-shirt. Especially now that I'm a single Mummy. OK, so this guy isn't only a muso, he's an engineer too. And a Dad. But I can't quite get past the muso bit.

He offered to take a competition card to the cash register for me. And then gallantly paid for my lunch. I was disappointed that he didn't ask for my number, so was glad when he texted me later that day to see if he could take me out again. He'd lifted my mobile number from the competition card... Ingenious or stalker-like? Perhaps I should name him ScaryBear instead?

Should I run a mile from this muso? Or embrace the creative?

Cheers, KangaRue :)

Dating as a Single Parent (I)

I've been dating.

I've mentioned the tragic date with the semi-toothless guy and being propositioned by Dr. Coy... But thankfully there are some slightly more eligible and attractive male specimens in Hervey Bay. Some of them are even below OAP age!

In my past dating life, I used nicknames for my dates with my friends. The main purpose it served was as an easier way for my friends to distinguish them - BoyWonder was named not only for his age, but also because he had a bit of Clark Kent going for him. I intend to keep the tradition going, with the added benefit of providing a privacy protecting pseudonym for my suitors.

Two contenders stand out so far. Both are single Dads with shared care for their kids.  The first we'll call Sparky. He's a lovely guy, thoughtful and relaxed.

I found it a little weird that he didn't know what a blog was though. I get that someone might have never read a blog (though I am struggling with getting my head around this alone). But to not even know what a blog is? I'm pretty sure I ballsed up the explanation too. His sense of privacy means he baulked at the idea of blogging at all... So not sure I'll divulge his inclusion here. He's also not particularly open conversationally - though we've had great discussions about travel and a bit about food.

He's also doesn't eat red meat. Not a deal breaker in it's own right, but don't lecture me about my food choices. Someone pass me a steak knife please...

So Sparky should give you an idea of his line of work. I don't really care what someone does for a living, as long as they enjoy it and find it challenging or inspiring. Obviously not every day can be blissful, but otherwise slogging through a third of each day would be tiresome at best. But Sparky dropped into conversation that he's the boss, along with the properties he has invested in. I'm not sure if it's a nerves thing, where he feels the need to "big" himself up, but I've found it a little off putting - red-flags are flapping as previous relationships featured guys with underlying insecurity that manifested as bragging and arrogance, which eventually got directed towards me. So no thanks as a general rule. But we'll see. At worst, I'd like to keep him as a friend.

Details of my other suitor will have to wait for another day.

Being the boss and owning properties should logically be a draw-card, yet I'm finding it a turn-off... Am I nuts? 

Am I being naive thinking I can stay friends with someone I've dated briefly?

Cheers, KangaRue :)

Man in the Moon (aka Happy New Year!)

Today is my New Year. The start of a great year after a year liberally dosed with a fair amount of crap*.

A year ago yesterday (or the early hours of this morning given the time difference in the UK), BoyWonder said that he wanted a divorce. I've moved on in a number of ways: location, attitude, outlook... and there has been a lot of self reflection, which is obviously an ongoing thing. I've also had time to reflect on past relationships and experiences.

A lifetime ago, I was engaged to a(nother) boy who couldn't see the man in the moon. Not a deal-breaker, you might think? But being able to see the "face" in the moon came to represent a level of imagination, dreaming and playfulness. I said to myself that I'd never go out with someone who couldn't see the man in the moon again. But then I married him. Perhaps it was doomed from the start? OK, that's not really giving either of us enough credit, but I can be a bit blithe in my own blog I hope?! A fortune teller in Hong Kong about 8 years ago may agree though, but that's for a future blogpost.

So while it might not be a first date question (because, quite frankly, they might think I'm even more nuts than I am a little nuts), I think I will be asking it pretty early on in any relationship. Will I base views of longevity on the answer? Probably not as a knee-jerk reaction, but it will certainly influence my thinking long term. So while I may not walk away immediately, I'd probably start extricating myself pretty quickly. 

So do you have any left-of-centre deal-breakers? (I can't be the only one?!!)

Cheers, KangaRue :)

*the year has had a lot of positives too - Pickle constantly amazes me, I've watched friends get engaged and married, had some awesome times with both friends and family and met some fantastic new friends too.

Simplifying Life (64/365)

I've been amazed at how little I've needed or missed of our "stuff" while it's been shipped from the UK. My Mum has leant us some kitchen essentials and linen, and while I do miss my memory foam mattress and 4-season duvet, and constantly reach for kitchen items we don't currently have (making pizza without a cheese grater was interesting)... Having far less choice of clothing has been liberating. I miss having some more of Pickle's favourite books to read (it's a good thing I like The Gruffalo) but he's got more than enough options for toys - I've been dreading where to put everything when it arrives!  I could do with a couple of extra tops and shoes, but everything seems such excess in hindsight.

And then, via Twitter, I discovered Free Our Kids - this Mum has set herself the challenge of not spending anything for a year on stuff for her son (food and medicine essentials aside of course). I've often dressed Pickle in hand-me-downs and bought second hand for him to wear and play with, it's certainly made me think hard about other excesses. We have been living frugally, and will continue to do so - moving from the UK to Oz has been expensive. Though the cost of buying our mattresses alone in Australia has almost matched the cost.

64/365 - Drowning in a sea of boxes

Having unpacked about two-thirds so far, there is only just over a box marked "garage sale". Mind you, I haven't started on our (mainly my) clothes yet *gulp*.

I have been investing in swimming classes for Pickle, but other playgroups here are expensive compared to so many free or inexpensive playgroups, soft-plays etc.  in London - not to mention the FREE museums and galleries that are already sorely missed. The Hervey Bay Cultural Centre doesn't quite match up *stifles snigger* - though the DO get some good exhibitions, on occasion.

We are going car-free as soon as my Cargo Bike arrives (blogpost on that drama soon, promise). I'll still have access to my car when it's needed - trips desperately seeking culture and old friends in Brisbane and Sydney for example - but as well as the Grandparentals needing to use it, I really don't want the responsibility or the expense.

So while not spending anything on Pickle for a year would be a bit too much of an additional challenge at the moment, it's flagged my attention to some excesses in our lives that can be moderated. 

Most importantly, I don't want Pickle growing up believing he needs material possessions to be happy.

There will be a garage sale in my near future!

Loving having a simplified life, so would be thrilled with any additional tips you could offer?

Cheers, KangaRue :)

Introspection (Tough Times)

I'm very good at keeping myself busy. Busy enough that I don't have time for self-reflection. Not blogging much in February - not even my Project 365 photos - is another way to avoid this, as I find blogging carthartic.

However yesterday, my work day, I sat down to answer a number of emails and also do some blog work that had me writing openly and honestly. And last night I had a proper cry.

The past year has been tough.

This time in 2012, I was midway through a two month trip from the UK to Australia. Sounds idyllic, right? But travelling on my own with a baby was nerve racking. The idea of it was far worse than the reality, though I didn't get much sleep in the 36-hours of door-to-door travel.

We visited Sydney, Hervey Bay, Sydney again, then Perth. All in all, there were seven flights. Pickle is a well-travelled munchkin. The last week in Perth with the Outlaws, was some of the most relaxing. Though I was still paranoid about my Mother-in-law judging me, not least when a newly mobile Pickle bumped his head on the coffee table. True to form (from my experience, not the stereotype), my MiL was über supportive and basically told me there would be lots more bumps and bruises and to let him get on with it.

So two days after arriving back in London, my then husband BoyWonder, announced that he no longer wanted to be married. This in it's own right was stressful as I'm sure you'd understand. But I still hoped we'd work things out. It wasn't to be, and our relationship counselling turned into divorce counselling on the second visit. Those fortnightly appointments were stressful too.

Meanwhile, remember I'm still raising an active and demanding baby.

So divorce proceedings with the ensuing paperwork, resigning from my job and explaining why, planning a relocation across the world... All while living in the same house as my ex; all stressful events right?

Don't get me wrong, BoyWonder and I have had the most amicable divorce of anyone I know - with the possible exception of my brother and his wife, who still run a business together. They were certainly our inspiration, but I doubt anyone wants to compete for that award.

I'm thankful every time I hear another divorce drama story. And there have been quite a few of those.

Leaving my adorable friends was certainly stressful. I miss them regularly. I've luckily made a few good friends already in Hervey Bay, but they can't replace the ones, in my heart, that I left behind.

Arriving to a "fresh start" (and remembering the 36-hours of travel with a now-toddler) wasn't quite what I'd anticipated.

I've struggled how to address the difficulties I've encountered, as it's not necessarily my story to tell. So I will cut to the chase and just say that, after an immense amount of additional and extremely unexpected stress, Pickle and I ended up living in emergency accommodation a week before Christmas. I'm lucky it was a house and not share accommodation - I'm really not sure how I would have coped with that (SilverLining anyone?!).

Trying to find rental accommodation was far more difficult than I'd imagined. It was just the wrong time of year and very few places were listed. It came down to the wire, as the emergency accommodation was only for ten weeks - I moved out the day before expiration.

I'd ordered a cargo bike as a car replacement. There were months worth of dramas there, which deserves it's own post and will arrive in due course. I'm starting from scratch on that front.

My shipping from the UK has been in the country since 5th January, but still hasn't been delivered. After chasing yet again, I found out yesterday that it's now "probably" due Monday. Which means I've had to reschedule appointments and don't have any childcare for Pickle.

Oh and I've got a frozen shoulder - an increasing interference and a painful one at that. Chiropractic treatment and one cortisone injection later (I've had to reschedule the second injection due to the imminent shipping delivery), I'm still in pain and I sometimes feel like I'm haemorrhaging money.

So that, in a nutshell, has been the past eleven months.

Yet, I'm still - relatively - positive. I'm enjoying a simplified life. I'm actioning my career change. Pickle has started day-care one day a week (hence my work day). I'm ready for him to be in day-care, which I certainly wasn't six months ago.

Sure, it's hard work being a single Mummy. I often don't get a break until an hour or so after he's gone to bed. But after washing up, folding laundry, putting his toys away, etc., I can have quality me-time. Or - most likely - quality vegging time.

And quite frankly, Pickle is frigging amazing.

So enough self indulgent rambling from me. Time to finger paint...

Cheers, KangaRue

Dating for Dummies

I've mentioned before that I like the process of dating.  But jeez it can be a frustrating process at times.  I really wish I'd written down all the disaster stories pre-BoyWonder, so I'll be making sure to share the sagas going forward for your amusement.

I had an interesting conversation with my Dad recently.  He pondered why an attractive girl who was on a television show, would have to resort to internet dating.  I asked Dad how he met people in his day; "at dances", was his response.

Nightclubbing is not the same thing. People mingled and conversation was possible.  There is really no equivalent to getting your dance card filled these days.  But perhaps internet dating is the closest thing - eyeing up the intended party to see if you like the look of them, having the opportunity to chat to find out likes and interests, then deciding if you want to meet again in a more personal setting to see if you want to progress things further.

And as I pointed out to Dad, it is just one avenue to meet people.  Dances weren't his only way of meeting girls, after all.

I don't think he realised that I had indeed internet dated.  I actually met one of my past boyfriends this way - I won't "out" him, as I don't know who he's actually told... I'm aware not everyone is as forthright as me.  We are still friends - in fact, he makes a much better friend than he ever did a boyfriend (which will help some of you figure out who I'm referring to!).  And I expect he reads my blog, and I'll get a Twitter DM or email shortly *waves*.

Anyhow, I digress.  So I've internet dated.  I've even speed-dated.  The later I think is a somewhat ridiculous way to try and meet someone, though I did suss out some great tips on London restaurants, while also being able to immediately discount people who suggested Maccy-D's.  I think the chance of meeting a soul mate is fairly limited these ways, as a general rule.  But ultimately, I believe it sets the right frame of mind to be open to meeting people.

In fact, I've met two of my loveliest friends through the internet.  One, Cathy, followed my blog, and we got to talking on Twitter.  We met up on one of her frequent trips to London, and voile, our friendship was born.  We've seen each other many times since, she was at my baby-shower, spoils Pickle rotten, and she even flew to London for my farewell lunch.  The other, Deb, I discovered on Twitter once I'd moved to Hervey Bay, and was desperately searching for someone social media savvy in the vicinity; and we just clicked. Hmm, I share a love of good champagne and wine with both these girls... I sense a theme!

So while they're not dates, they are successful relationships spawned through the internet.  I don't claim to be an internet dating guru, but I can let you know how to impress me (or not, as the case may be):

• smile in your photos. In one photo at the very least. Looking like a grump, even if you're trying to show your serious side, makes me think you've got absolutely no sense of humour
• have teeth. I've actually shown up to a date, and met a guy who's four top front teeth were missing.  I have a thing about teeth - pretty sure this is due to my years of suffering braces - and just can not date someone with horrid (or non existent) teeth.  I obviously should have listened to my own advice in the first point.  
• don't have a rant at how insincere/obnoxious/full-of-themselves all the women on internet dating sites are.  This is completely off-putting and I'm not going to reply to someone like this.  I don't even know you and I don't want to, if this is how much luggage you're carrying around.
• actually read my profile.  Asking basic questions about things clearly stated is a big turn-off.  You never know, you might find some conversation starters in there!
• show an interest.  I state that I blog.  I use the same name for all social media.  It's not hard to find me here, or on Twitter.  So far, one, just one, person has actually shown enough savvy to track me down.  Not in a stalkerish way (I don't think!).
• don't call me "baby cheeks" or some other cutsey nickname.  You don't know me, and frankly, it's just a little creepy.  And I might barf.
• drop any sexual inuendos.  Or worse, the blatant comments.  It's neither clever nor funny.  Again, you don't know me.  Where's the romance? 
• Turn up on time, or call/message to say you'll be late.  Before you're actually late.  Basic manners, surely?  In London, the tube could be blamed for perhaps 15 minutes, but any longer - and in Hervey Bay, were it takes 10 minutes to get anywhere - there is no excuse!  And as someone with self-respect, I will leave.

So there's my Dating KangaRue for Dummies guide (Part 1 perhaps?).

Have I missed anything?  I'd love to hear any bizarre approaches you've received!  How DO people meet other singletons these days?

Cheers, KangaRue :)

Missing a few steps?

Well, I wasn't expecting to write about dating quite so soon!  But I had a call the other night, from a man I've know in a professional capacity over the many years I've visited the Grandparentals in Hervey Bay.  Let's call him Dr. Coy (not to be confused with Star Trek's Dr. McCoy).

Dr. Coy is recently divorced, he seems quite reserved, and I expect he's lonely.  And it must be difficult not to become fodder for gossip in a semi-rural location like Hervey Bay.

Anyhow... Dr. Coy proceeded to tell me about a board he was on, and a conference he was due to attend in a couple of weeks.  Now, I'd recently mentioned my counselling studies to him, so I wasn't quite sure where this was going to start with.  Call me naive if you will.

There would be outings and dinners, and would I like to join him?  For the weekend.  It wouldn't be suitable to bring Pickle (understandably), and there's no way I could leave him for an entire weekend, with the elderly Grandparentals, but that's beside the point.

Whatever happened to "would you like to join me for a coffee/drink/dinner"?

I still think a mini-break is a big deal - if not quite as much as Bridget Jones' "a mini-break means true love".

I actually have no idea if I have anything in common with this guy - being stuck in a car sharing the driving for six hours each way, let alone the rest of the time, could be a nightmare.  And let's not even discuss sleeping arrangements!

I must admit, there's a little Jewish voice whispering in my ear: "go out with him, he's a doctor"... But then again, I'm a Very Bad Jew ;)

But perhaps I've jumped the gun, and that wasn't his intention at all; what do you think?

Cheers, KangaRue :)

Dating Dramas

Back in the days BBW (before BoyWonder aka Pickle's Daddy), I enjoyed dating.  Get your mind out of the gutter, I mean actual dating:  meeting for drinks or dinner or something more adventurous (again, mind out of the gutter - my first date with Pickle's Daddy was indoor rock-climbing, after we'd met at a mixed pole-dancing class that is!).

Yes, that is BoyWonder on the right!

I had my fair share of amusing horror-stories, and they all had nicknames so my friends could keep up (yes, that is how and when BoyWonder came to be named as such).

There was the guy who sat down with my pre-dinner glass of wine, and said "so what do you think my name is?". Seems the night we'd met at a book launch he'd given me his working pseudonym - but in the three weeks since then, and our almost daily emails, he hadn't thought to inform me of his actual name!  All of a sudden I wasn't on a date with a Rick*, and instead was dating Adrian*... he then proceeded to split the bill exactly down the middle, and our after-dinner drink was at my expense as he'd paid for the pre-dinner drink.  I would usually have offered to get the latter drinks, but thought him a bit miserly since he'd asked me out, picked venues etc, and it wasn't what I was used to.

But I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and agreed to a second date - making it a weekday lunch, he came to Canary Wharf to meet me during my break from the world of international finance (well, working as a Personal Assistant to a high-flier anyhow).  It was a bitterly cold day in the depths of a London winter.  I booked a table and said I'd meet him at one of the local bar-restaurants.  I had got caught up in the office, and had phoned to tell him I was running a bit late, so I was surprised Adrian* was standing outside.  Thought that was a bit weird considering the weather, but he was "admiring the view" as he'd never been to the area before.  And then he proceeded to tell me he'd left his wallet at home, but our next date would be on him.  Now I wasn't even sure I wanted this date, let alone another.  So I made my excuses about it being frantic in the office (which was true) and could we take a rain-check (perhaps not so truthful).  I walked him part-way to the station - more to make sure he wouldn't see me double back, phone my friend who worked nearby and ask if she's had lunch already as I had a table booked.  She wondered why I had a table booked and I told her for that answer, I'd need a glass of wine...

I'm not sure if I should be dreading the potential dating dramas of the future, or relishing them as blog fodder?

Care to share any of your dating dramas?

* names have been changed to protect the innocent... or perhaps because I've forgotten them

 Cheers, KangaRue :)

Going Car-Free

When planning on our move to Australia, I had to decide what to do about my car aka the Purple People Eater.  The Grandparentals have been driving the PPE for 13 years now - I've owned her for 14... I was only planning on going to the UK for 12-months!

Rather than leave them stranded, I embraced the idea of a lifestyle change. Hervey Bay is relatively flat.  I love to cycle - I find it really mentally relaxing.  And while having Pickle behind me on my gorgeous vintage-style bike was OK, he was neither thrilled with looking at my back, but we also couldn't carry much in a pannier bag. Shopping, or even a day out would be tricky.  So I looked into cargo bikes and trialled one in Cambridge (very helpful chap up there, and I'm regretting not buying my bike from him in hindsight).

I decided on the Bakfiets brand of Dutch Cargo Bike.  It's not cheap, that is the major downside.  But they hold their value and are extremely well made.  The research I did into cheaper Chinese-made models varied from worrisome to downright scary.  So I decided to go with a classic, and after riding one, was hooked.

I thought the bike was going to be cumbersome, heavy and awkward.  Pushing off with all my strength, I wobbled as I'd over compensated.  The bikes are well-balanced by design.  It was easy to ride the Classic model, in both the Short and Long versions.  I decided on the Long version, which can theoretically fit four kids - or Pickle and a shed-load of shopping (and a friend or dog down the track perhaps).  But I'm getting the power-assisted model - the power only kicks in if you pedal... but I figure Pickle is only going to get bigger, and as a replacement to regular use of the car, when it's full and I'm going up a hill, it will be really helpful.

And I'll still have access to my car when it's needed - trips desperately seeking culture and old friends in Brisbane and Sydney for example.  In addition to the Grandparentals needing the car, the environmental impact and a healthier lifestyle, I really don't want the responsibility or the continual expense.

Unfortunately, there have been ongoing delays with my bike's delivery.  Firstly the stock count was wrong, and there were none in the four colours of my preference, only one in red, which is not really me.  And investing the money I am, I want a colour I'll enjoy.  Then there were shipping delays, so the new bike that was supposed to be delivered before Christmas arrived today.  Except it wasn't the e-bike I have paid for and need.  So two months after I was hoping to have my bike, I'm having to draw on my inner reserves of patience.  Going car-free will have to wait for another two or three weeks...

Any ideas of names for the bike please? Pickle's Pedals is the working title.  

And I'd welcome any suggestions for personalising the cargo box at limited cost, but with oodles of style please?

Cheers, KangaRue :)

Holding Hands (10/365)

Pickle was sitting on my lap while I was reading to him, quite casually holding my hand, when I managed to capture this shot.

10 January 2013

It just makes my heart melt.

Cheers, @Kanga_Rue


Update: I've linked this photo as my favourite of the week - come see some others entries by clicking here... 

40th Birthday Tattoo (4/365)

Today is my 40th Birthday.  I'm not one to worry about the "big" birthdays.  I don't generally set targets of what I "should" have achieved by a certain age (though 27 was a doozy, as I was "supposed" to be married with two kids by then, and I was newly single!).  Since studying counselling, I've come to realise that using judgemental wording in an internal dialogue is neither helpful nor constructive... but back to the far less lofty theme of this post.

While tossing around the idea of a tattoo for years, I've never been comfortable settling on an image that would permanently adorn my body.  And where would I want it?  I liked the idea of it being discreet, so I could wear a strapless dress without it being visible; but I would also want to be able to see it, otherwise I didn't see the point.

Quite frankly, I had body issues.  But then I became pregnant, and my body, including its lumps and bumps, was growing a baby.  I loved my body more than I ever had before during my pregnancy.  In fact, I think it's the first time I ever truly loved it.  I'd appreciated it before, liked certain aspects, didn't mind others, and had my fair share of hang-ups and things I didn't like.  But I think my Demi-shot shows how amazing I felt during my pregnancy.  And all in spite of the immense SPD pain.

One of my earlier "mother
& child" drawings

And while I must acknowledge my new singledom at this coming juncture in my life was partly a catalyst, my beautiful Pickle was the inspiration for the design.  Early civilisation honoured women and motherhood, and  matriarchal societies were prevalent.  Spirals were typically used to represent the mother-goddess.  So with this in mind I started searching for images; even starting a Pinterest board.  Some were almost right.  But wanting something truly personal, I started drawing some ideas, inspired by and combining some tribal designs.  And it all came together when I had the realisation that my hip would be the perfect place to have it.

Kisses from Pickle &
a balloon from a friend.
Another friend said
"naughty at 40"!

I got some recommendations and headed to Frith Street Tattoo for a detailed consultation and later headed in with my hand-drawn design, where it was tidied up and applied (is that the right word?) by Oliver better than I could have imagined. (And while there was some discomfort, it was nothing like contractions, though I did utilise my HypnoBirthing techniques to manage the sensations!)

So for my 40th birthday present to myself, I now have a mother-goddess spiral topped with an E for Pickle's IRL name.  I wanted colour, so had the E filled with turquoise, one of my two favourite colours.  To me this celebrates my body being an amazing thing that grew an even more amazing person.  Happy Birthday to me.

4 January 2013

Let me know what you think?  Do you have any tattoos?

Cheers, @Kanga_Rue