Musings, or what I think up in the middle of the night


July 6: Below is a summary of our trip. Thursday (June 22): Movers come and start to pack up our stuff. I was determined not to become the frantic stress-monster I usually become under similar circumstances and to that end I added Baileys to my morning coffee. John moved most of our things to a services apartment around the corner and that was where we stayed for the rest of our time in Manly.

Friday: Movers complete packing, pack truck, and all of our things go off into the sunset. We are aware that sometimes containers are washed off the tankers (unusual but possible) and unlike when we moved from NY to Sydney we have a much more comprehensive list of what we own for the insurance people. For a moment I consider that losing everything would not be so bad but then I recall that I haven't scanned all of my mother's correspondence and there are also boxes and boxes of sentimental items. So never mind.

Saturday: We hold a "house cooling" party. It ends late as no one really wants to say good night as it means saying good bye.

Sunday: We try to relax and rest and get over our hangovers. Jane and Andrew invite us to their house to recuperate with them.

Monday: We arrive at the airport to find the travel agent hadn't booked a seat for Margaret for the 24-hour flight to Rome by way of Singapore and London. Not only was no seat booked but the flight is completely full and we cannot buy a seat. The travel agent booked us a night in a hotel (since we had no bed to sleep in) and they even paid for it, at our request.

The hotel was very nice, actually, but the room was a normal hotel room with no separate room for Margaret to sleep. We panicked and then realized that the crib would fit in the bathroom. What a relief that we didn't have to choose between sitting in a dark and silent room or leaving her unattended! At this point it was 5:00 and Margaret hadn't slept all day so we put her down to sleep and she slept until 8:00 am the next day. We bought some drinks and watched TV, making periodic trips to the lobby to pee.

Tuesday: We arrive at the airport to check in. Again. At first we are told that there are only two seats, but it turns out to be a mistake--the ticketing agent looked up only the last name "Meany" and saw Margaret and John, and assumed that was the two adults. We get on the plane, and get to Singapore where we need to de-plane but will be staying on the same aircraft. Margaret is asleep through landing, stop over, and take off thanks for the most part to the car seat. Having the car seat meant we could put her in a safe place and fall asleep or go to the toilet without worrying about Margaret.

We land in London and get on the short-hop plane to go to Rome. A flight attendant asks me if we will be using the car seat during the flight. My reply was a strong affirmative--I guess she'd never seen someone use a car seat on a plane before.

Wednesday though Sunday: We had a lovely time in Rome. Margaret loved our hosts, the Marani, and they enjoyed her as well.

Sunday: One trying to leave Rome we find that, once again, there is no seat for Margaret. John goes to a ticketing desk and everything is straightened out, but not before our stress levels climb up and up. This process takes so long that we are still waiting to clear immigration when we hear them calling our names. When we got on board the plane I said that I wasn't sorry that we'd cost the airline money by making the flight late but I was sorry for the other passengers who were stuck waiting.

We land in NY and arrive at the temporary apartment at about midnight to find there is no crib. Margaret hasn't slept in a regular bed and I worried about her falling out of bed or getting out of bed alright and finding trouble. Plus I was too tired to make sure her room was safe so we all slept in the big bed with Margaret in the middle. No one got much sleep.

Monday: The management company delivers a crib which accidentally falls apart when I try to move it. This is not reassuring.

Tuesday (July 4th): We borrow a port-a-crib from some friends. This is a good thing as the next morning I hear her shaking the crib to make it move. I shudder to think what would have happened if she were still in the crib.

Wednesday: John starts his new job. Our mobile phones are working. I go to a Target in NJ and get a booster seat for Margaret. Things are starting to come together.



26 June - O. M. G.

We're still in Sydney.

Travel agent booked Margaret (21 months old, very mobile) as "on our laps" despite our saying we wanted her to have her own seat. We didn't find out until we arrive at the airport. Thank god our friend who drove us to the airport didn't do the curbside-kick-out but parked and came in with us. There was no second seat to buy for Margaret so we have to wait 24 hours.

I got all "New York" and so the travel agent is paying for our night in a hotel. She asked "don't you live in Sydney?" so I was able to explain not anymore, all of our furniture is on a boat, we have no apartment, we have no place to stay. And since it was their mistake in the first place ...

Check into the hotel (at about 5 pm with a toddler who hasn't slept all day) and realize that if we put her to sleep in the crib, what do we do. Panic. Ack. Eeek. Erm. Think think think. Clever inspiration. Fanagling. Crib into bathroom. Aaaaahhh! She was asleep in mere seconds and we can unwind with a drink and watch TV. Everyone happy (relatively).

Now you will please excuse me as I go to the lobby to pee.

(ya gotta admit, never a dull moment, and another thing to be grateful for: not an allergy worry in all of this!)

20 June - Movers will be here the day after tomorrow. I'm just not ready for this. Plus Margaret and I have developed a cold. Margaret is so unhappy. She won't take the cough syrup and I can't say I entirely blame her. Last night she didn't eat much dinner, she just sat in her chair and coughed and coughed. Her little eyes were red and watery. She finally gave up and started to cry so I held her on my lap and fed her pear and held her cup for her. I think when you are feeling miserable a little coddling is not out of place.

Listening to National Public Radio on my iPod and they had a piece about the Iranian neighborhood in Los Angeles, nicknamed Tehran-geles. I heard it as Taronga-les, like Taronga Zoo.

Do you ever think about how many TV shows take place in New York?
I wonder if it's because the producers are just too lazy to go out of town. And like New Jersey is a foreign country so they won't go there.

It used to be that John and I would go on vacation and be astounded that there were images of New York everywhere on TV. Now I realize that it's just that TV is full of New York. And New York is full of New York too. It doesn't seem like other cities feature on TV as much, except maybe London. But maybe I'm wrong.

John is out at soccer practice. On nights like this I could spend all evening on the computer but somehow I can't seem to think of things that need doing.

The other day Margaret started to make a sort of a gagging noise. I thought it was choking or coughing but when I asked her if she was ok she grinned at me, so I figured she was okay. The next day in addition to her usual screaming "Meow!" at Mickey she made the same gagging noise. She must have seen him hacking up a hairball and was immitating him!

Another Margaret-Mickey story: some days she harasses Mickey, some days she manages to play nice for a moment. So one day when she managed to play nice she was sitting on the couch between Mickey and me. She started by leaning over and putting her hand under his nose and giggling when his sniffing and wiskers tickled her palm. She even managed to stroke his fur in the right direction and not tear it out by the roots. She ended by playing with her tea set and placing a cup right next to Mickey so he could join the party.

14 June - Yesterday I was on Manly Beach with Toni and a pod of dolphins were frolicking in the water just beyond where the surfers were.

It occurs to me that just because I put in the occasional date it doesn't mean that all of the entries below that date are from the same day. I just stick in a date so I know when certain things happen.

A couple of days ago John told me that when he handed Margaret her milk she touched it and said, "it's hot." He was shocked that she said a complete sentence. I think we are on the edge of a sudden growth of her vocabulary. Toni said to me that her daughter, Kaya, speaks in what sounds like babble but if you can get the context just right you can sometimes realize that she is saying something intelligible. I get the same feeling about Margaret.

As I get ready to go back to America I am realizing there are so many "conversions" between American and the Australian things. For some of these I have to figure out whether to convert or not!

- Car engines in Australia are not measured in horsepower but kilowatts
- Gas is not US dollars per gallon, but Australian dollars per litre (Australian spelling)
- Car fuel efficiency is reported in litres to go 100 kilometers and not miles per gallon
- Paper is not 8.5" x 11" but A4 which is 210mm x 297 mm
- Paper size and shape, since A4 paper is taller and thinner than 8.5" x 11", affects all sorts of things including file folders, hanging files, ring binders, and sheet protectors
- In the kitchen things are measured by weight in grams and volume in millilitres, therefore measuring cups are different, baking pans are different, ovens are different--and oven temperatures are measured in centigrade and not fahrenheit
- The standard sizes of packaging is different. A one-pound box of pasta is replaced by 375 or 500 gram packages, tomatoes don't come in 28-ounce cans, chocolate chips don't come in 24 ounce bags, and milk is sold by the litre. And all of these affect how many packages you need to achieve the same goals.
- Children's clothes in America are sold by age, in Australia they are sold by number. Newborns in Australia wear size 000, preemie clothing can be as small as 000000, and as they get older the kids wear numbers that simply count up. I have no idea what American sizes compare to. What is this size 2t?

I think of Margaret only in terms of weighing in kilos and her height is in terms of cm. Then again I think of my own weight in kilos too! I've not been able to convert my temperature thinking to centigrade, and it doesn't matter if it's body temperature to see if you are running a fever, or outdoor temperature. The only place I have started to think in centigrade is for oven temperatures.

I measure drinks in milliliters and litres. So a moderate glass of wine is 100 ml but generally people drink up to 200-250 ml at a time. An adult should drink eight glasses or 2 litres of water a day--that's eight 250 ml glasses of water. When you go to the store you buy litres of milk and soda.

And lastly, I'm going to have to get used to the news having a report on "Sports" not reports on "Sport" (singular) that don't give the results on the rugby or the cricket.

When I was a kid I was aware of the power and influence parents have over their kids. I realized that you don't love anyone as much as your parents. As a parent I have learned that you simply fall in love with your kids. So if I post too many photos of Margaret or if I won't shut up about her please bear with me but at least you know why.

It wasn't until we came to live in Sydney that I realized how huge it must have been for the people living in Australia and Asia to have the Olympics in Sydney in 2000. For the most part major global sporting events happen in the wee hours of the morning for people in Asia-Pacific. So the serious fan of the Olympics, or the rugby or soccer fan who wants to see his world cup games live will be getting very little sleep.

Sydney hosted the Olympics in 2000 and then hosted the Rugby World Cup in 2003, Korea and Japan hosted the Soccer World Cup in 2002. Suddenly vast countries of people who might not bother to watch the games are able to go to the pub on in the evening and watch the games at a civilized time. I'm certain it brought many more people into the game.

Plus I'm sure there was a satisfaction to requiring the Americans and Europeans to wake up at some crazy hour to see the games live.

John has been home from work for a couple of weeks now and I think he has stopped driving me crazy just being around the house. I did have to lay down the rules that at least Margaret and I are going out each day, and going out by 10 or 11. John is happier staying in and catching up on the day's sports all morning. Generally speaking he's ready to go out around 12 or 1. Problem is that Margaret starts her nap around 1:00.

Funny how in the middle of the night I think of stuff that seems very amusing. When I try to remember them while I'm at the keyboard they're not nearly as entertaining, if I can remember them.

On Tuesday of last week Margaret said her first sentence. She had a tumble and I asked, "What happened?" She said "boo." and looked sad. Then she said "I fall down." We are very proud.

I've got this page editor that I'm using to make my website and it's very good in a lot of ways but one thing that is missing is a spell checker. I guess I could spend money and get one with a spell checker, or even buy the commercial version of this editor. Ach, too obvious.

What I like about this editor is actually that it doesn't put things into WYSIWYG--when I'm typing this I see all sorts of HTML codes. I like that because the other editors I've used put in tons of their own coding and make a simple web page into a massive download. Plus I'm a control freak. And I'm afraid of change. But aside from that I'll get right onto this spell checker business. In the meantime, all of the typos and misspellings are mine, all mine.

Doctor Karl is an Australian doctor of uncertain origin who is frequently seen on TV or radio explaining simple science or blasting science myths. He is very popular because his opinions are well-thought-out and seem to me to be well-researched. He has a podcast that comes out about every week or so to tell you about science stuff you didn't know about.

Recently he explained a phenomenon I thought I understood but find I didn't: why people yell into their mobile phones. He gave the classic example of sitting on a bus, not being able to hear the conversation of the people across the aisle but being clearly able to hear word-for-word the telephone conversation of the dope at the back of the bus.

Now I had thought it was a combination of factors: people can't see each other and so they holler since they don't get the non-verbal cues that the listener is following them, the phone picks up too much background noise, and just plain thick-headedness. Dr. Karl disagrees and I've tried his suggestions and ... they work.

He explained that all phones will amplify or de-amplify sound (within a certain range) so that the person on the other end gets a relatively moderate volume on the other end. Your ordinary, cheap, house phone does this and so does your expensive mobile phone. The difference is that even the cheapest home phone takes some of the sound you put into the mouthpiece and sends it to your ear, so you can hear a quiet version of what your listener hears; in other words, you get some feedback that you are talking loud enough. Your $200-$400 mobile phone does NOT do this (I don't know why). So people assume that the background noise in places like the city bus is blocking out what they are saying.

So how do we test this? What do we do to change our behavior so we aren't an annoyance to others? When you make a phone call simply speak in a normal voice. I tried this on a moving train and although I had trouble hearing my own voice, the person I was speaking with could hear me just fine! Wow.

Another trick that Dr. Karl suggested is that if the listener has trouble hearing you, don't talk louder. The phone will simply lower the volume of your voice as it sends it out. Instead cup your hand over the mouthpiece to cancel out some of the background noise that the phone is picking up. This has the added bonus that the people around you will be less bothered by your inane conversation with your loved one.

I've said for some time that for every health warning there is another one telling you to do the exact opposite. The best I've had until today was to point out how eevil salt was in the 70s, and now salt is virtually ignored. After avoiding salt we were to avoid fat, all fat, and there were tons of foods produced that were lo-fat no-fat and, of course, no flavor. We've gone through the no carb/lo carb craze and are prepared for the new food fad.

Today I was listening to NPR via podcast and they were discussing the research into carcinogens that are introduced to meat by barbecuing. There were several ideas for lowering your risk of ingesting the carcinogens, one of which is to leave the skin on chicken. So you get to choose: do you leave the skin on so that you don't get carcinogens added from the exact process that makes barbecuing so yummy, or do you remove it to lower the bad fat content of the meat?

Here is Sydney you will see restaurants that are called "Spanish Restaurant" but serve burritos and chimichangas. So strange. You'd never confuse Canada with France.

I was thinking about "The Three Bears". How hot would that porridge have to be that they went for a walk in the woods while waiting for it to cool? Sure I've had food that's too hot but generally it's cool enough to eat within a minute or two. That porridge must have been white hot!

Some days I just can't seem to catch a break. Friday I held onto Lisa M's coffee and managed to achieve a second degree burn. From a cup of coffee.

I've realized one reason why mothers don't get a chance to sit down for a bit of quiet. It's because the kids come over and need to get themselves involved in what is going on. Take right now, for example, Margaret is sitting next to me and pretending to read aloud what I am writing. She's saying "Five? Five?" because she's hoping my editor will turn into Hi-5.

I have finished my morning chores plus I've gotten pretty far along on my weekend chores and it's only Friday morning, but I just don't get to sit and read, or do a sudoku puzzle, or even quietly update my "Musings" because Margaret like to plug and unplug the laptop cables, she wants to open and close the DVD drawer (and say "vroom vroom" as she turns the spindle), or she wants to add her own typing to the page. I've had to retype lines of text because I didn't know she'd turned on the capslock. Oh, now she's shrieking at me as she puts fingers in my eyes.

Sigh! Oh for a quiet cup of Joe....

One way to find out if someone is sensitive to a food is to do a food trial. You start with no allergy/sensitivity symptoms and then introduce the new food for a number of days. If there are no new symptoms the food is okay, if you do get symptoms, well, obviously you are sensitive or allergic to the food.

I am trying some food trials to get ready for traveling and for going back to America, one of which is commercial french fries ("hot chips" as they are called here) which will be cooked in an oil that has an anti-oxidant. What kid wouldn't love a trial like that? She's enjoying it. The good news is that I'm not gaining weight from all of the french fries because they give me an upset stomach these days. Our next trial is bread with preservatives.

24 May - Day care for kids is very expensive here. I have no idea of cost or how things are done in America but here day care is expensive and yet there aren't enough slots for all the kids and parents who want day care.

Long day care, that is, care that goes beyond 9-5, what someone would need if they were working a full-time job, costs AU$75-100 per day. And there are some that are even more than AU$100.

Most people just can't afford that. Let's do some math. Taking the rosiest image possible of a $75-per-day care and assuming only 28 work days in the month a parent would need AU$2100 per month after taxes (roughly AU$4200 after taxes) just to cover day care. That translates to $50k per year and it doesn't include additional costs like commuting costs that the parent would not have to pay if he or she were staying at home with the child! Just so you know, most people don't make that kind of money here.

The cost of day care is higher when you consider that parents sign up for certain days, if a holiday falls on one of those days you still pay for the care. For this reason you will find that there is almost always a Monday that is available at a day care center. Plus the parents don't get to see their kids as often.

I never thought I'd be a stay-at-home mum but now that I am I can't imagine how difficult it is to be a parent and work full time--especially if you happen to love your kids. I'd imagine that at best you see your baby for an hour in the morning and an hour at night, plus weekends. You will really rely on day care to teach your child numbers and colors and how to talk, plus the softer lessons like sharing and empathy. It must be a struggle for those parents to come home and still have to discipline the kid not to hit the cat instead of saying, "geez, I haven't seen you all day, let's just have some fun."

When we went to bed last night we found that Margaret had unzipped her sleeping bag and crawled half way out. Her room was cold (65 degrees F) so we put her back in the bag to the accompaniment of grumpy noises. She's a Giletti alright. Now I need to put the sleeping bag on backwards too.

23 May - Today I gave Margaret her formula and I said, "yummy" and she looked up at me and said as clear as anything, "yummy" and drank from the cup. As she drank she saw me looking at her in amazement and she grinned around the spout of her sippy cup.

May 21 - When I went to get Margaret up this morning she smiled up at me and handed me her pajamas. I ruined things by laughing so now she's going to try to do it every day. At least I know, from my allergy support group, that the trick is you put them in slightly larger pajamas and put the PJs on backwards. Now try to get out of THAT!

Earlier - Alright, the cockroach situation is still not getting better. In February it was so bad that I ended up sharing my bed with one ("what's that tickling me on my leg?--Aaaagh!!!" Mickey the cat was no help either as he refused to enter the bedroom at all.

Last night I saw cockroaches in the bathroom, they love the wastebasket, I saw them on the dresser, and I saw one on the floor near the closets. I kicked the one on the floor and he just lay there moving his antennae as if to say, "ah, this is more comfy. Thanks."

I got my hair cut recently and I actually took a hard line with the stylist and told her what I wanted and what I didn't. Believe it or not I really thought I was going to get something I like for once but then, just when she was about done with the blow drying she pulled out the thinning shears (ahem, they call them "shaping scissors") and messed it all up.

Well, "messed up" is not the phrase that came to mind when I saw what she was doing but by then it was too late. Half of my head was screwed up and so I decided to let her complete the stuff-up.

I should have known they'd never let me get away with a haircut I like. And they wonder why I get my hair cut so rarely.

In an ad on TV today I noticed a woman saying "I'm a mother, a wife, a dentist, ... " and she went on to list a few other roles she has. You just wouldn't hear a man say, "I'm a dad, a husband, a banker, a soccer player, ... " What a man would say is, "I work as a banker and I play soccer with such-and-such team. I'm married with a daughter ..."

I've been watching a lot of those makeover shows--they are on a safely G-rated channel so I don't worry about Margaret seeing disturbing images. I notice that the stylists can't resist coloring people's hair. I have yet to see a makeover in which they don't color the person's hair.

It's particularly annoying when a woman, such as a busy mom, says she has no time for "home maintenance" but she wants to look pretty. I have come out to my hair dresser by telling her that not only will I not be using a hair straightener when I'm at home but I won't be blow drying it either. In fact, I don't even own a hair straightener or a blow dryer.

Ok, I should also clarify that the only reason why I own a clothes iron is because I wanted to use home made iron-on transfers for Margaret. It cost AU$20 and has not been used since.

Anyway, so from my perspective, I see these makeovers where they find a woman who hasn't gotten a haircut in a year and they not only give her a haircut but they color her hair. What makes them think that she will maintain the hair color? I imagine that in 12 months the poor dear is actually worse off than she was before because her hair is now half one color and half another.

I won't even talk about the dye jobs that are actually really bad. I personally think that black women look good with black hair, and that the reds and browns look weird to me. I also think that some of those "highlights" look like weirdo stripes. I do understand that sometimes the aim is to not look natural, and that can look really cool. And I assume that some colorists manage to make highlights look natural, it's just that if it's a good job you can't tell that it's been done. But then there are the women who have tiger stripes.