Australia Day 2011

It's Tricky's first Australia Day so in true bogan style his Perth Nanna gave him a "Aussie Aussie Aussie" tshirt.

Perth Nanna (my mum) is slightly Aussie-obsessed. She has the stickers, the flags on the car, you name it.

I have inherited this Aussie-obsessive gene. My claim to fame is that I could sing, by heart, the national anthem from age 3 - it's on tape. I'm your go-to gal if you ever need help with the lyrics. I even know the second verse.

I'm sure some of you are now thinking "there is a second verse?!". Yes there is. And it mentions that we have "boundless plains to share". Something to think about when so many are jumping up and down about asylum seekers. (Check out the fantastic Rethink Refugees site that dispels some common, media driven myths)

See I don't care if you were born here or if you don't "look" Australian (I have no effing clue how can you look Australian anyway?). If you call Australia your home then that's all I need.

In celebrating tomorrow I recognize what we have become as a nation... even though we might not have had the best of starts.

I celebrate that we have universal health care - it meant Tricky could have his operation without it costing us thousands of dollars and remortgaging the house.

I celebrate that we have democratic elections, even if it takes a week for the results to be known.

I celebrate that even though 49% of the population are unhappy with those elections there is not mass rioting and looting, just grumbles at the dinner table.

I celebrate a nation that pulls together and takes care of those less fortunate by raising millions of dollars for the flood victims.

I celebrate a nation that realizes the importance of mothers and has paid maternity leave.

So tomorrow when I'm having a picnic lunch in a national park with a dozen of my friends and the three dozen Anzac bikkies I made today (that's a good ratio, right?), I'll be celebrating the Australia that Tricky will grow up in.

How do you celebrate Australia Day?

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Meet Glowless at the Aussie Bloggers Conference thanks to

Healthy Chart and Baby Goes Retro

Words of wisdom

The past few weeks I've been given lots of advice from friends who are mothers. Advice on birth, pain relief, breastfeeding, you name it. And whilst it has been mostly unsolicited (because I think if I ask too many questions they'll realise I have NO IDEA and call the authorities), it has all been welcome and genuinely helpful. Like one mother who told me if Tricky doesn't latch on properly, even though you're insanely tired and just want the feed over and done with, take him off and try again because your body will thank you for it the next day – awesome advice (thanks, Melissa).

So far the only unwanted advice has been from my own dad, who thinks he knows all there is to know about babies today because he had a hand in raising my sisters and I NEARLY THIRTY YEARS AGO, and because he watches a lot of TV. That's right, its my old nemesis Today Tonight coming to get me again! To start with I was very nice when he offered suggestions I would inform him that a lot has changed since he did this last - for instance, putting a baby to sleep on their tummy was still in vogue until the early 1990s (and even championed by the renowned Dr Benjamin Spock) because it was thought if the baby vomited it would get caught and they'd choke, whereas now there is a wealth of evidence to suggest a baby sleeping on their abdomen is at an increased risk of sudden infant death syndrome (SIDS). But shooting out statistics at him is like talking to a brick wall because “the people on Today Tonight said...”

So last week I changed tactics - it was time to play hard ball. Instead of bombarding him with facts and information from the latest antenatal class I sat there and listened intently until he finished... then laughed so hard I nearly cried! He was more than a little taken aback and asked was I OK? I put it to him simply that the people he had watched had been paid for their opinion and that I'm sure I could find another, equally qualified person willing to spout their opposite opinion to camera for some dollars too. I think it did the job - so far, no new advice has been forthcoming.

At the moment I'm still all ears when it comes to advice, which is good because I'm told it going to be coming in thick and fast as soon as Tricky arrives on the scene. Even the midwives at the hospital have differing opinions to each other so how am I meant to work out what to do? And what will I do on that day when a complete stranger comes up and starts telling me I'm doing it all wrong? I've been reading a new blog called “That baby looks cold” and even though it makes me laugh, I'm frightened! If the moodiness of pregnancy lingers I'm likely to assault someone. "Tricky do you know what happened during your first Christmas?", "Yes, Mummy went to jail!"

Did you get any strangers offering unwanted advice? Or maybe you have a concerned (read: meddling) family member that watches your every move, telling you you're doing it wrong? Leave a comment below (go on, its like therapy but cheaper).

Letter to Tricky - 34 weeks pregnant

Hi Tricky!

Let me introduce myself, I'm your Mum. At the moment you only know me as the funny gurgley digestion noises and heartbeat with a muffled '20,000 leagues under the sea' voice. And I only know you as a funny squirmy feeling in my tummy, just like when you go on a rollercoaster (you'll learn about them when you're older) – but even though that's all I know about you, I love you already.

I'm amazed every day at how much joy you bring to our lives without even being born yet. Your Daddy is getting very anxious to meet you and already talks to you sometimes – he lays his head gently on my belly to listen to you, then tells you how excited he is that you'll be here soon. You'd think after all this time we'd be quite used to you moving around but we both still get excited and giggle when you kick so hard that my shirt moves.

You seem to already have a bit of a routine going on where you are most active at about 8am after I've had breakfast (I think you like Weetbix) and then whilst you do move around all day a bit, you get a second wind at about 11pm and seem to be doing some sort of crazy dance that I can't wait to see when you're out – limbs flailing every which way. Sometimes you kick so hard that it takes my breath away a bit, but I don't mind at all, I like knowing you're getting stronger and stronger every day, preparing for your entrance in to this world.

There are so many things I want to teach you. So many wonders I want you to experience. More than anything though I'm just looking forward to meeting you - we can worry about whether you'll follow in my footsteps and support Holden (yay), or Daddy's and support Ford (boo!), when you're bigger.

Daddy and I have been preparing lots of things for your arrival – going to classes to learn about what to do with you when we bring you home, decorating your room (I hope you like Winnie-the-Pooh) and painting a cot for you to sleep in.

Other people are getting excited to meet you too. Your Aunty Penny is counting down the days until she gets to play with you – you'll be her first nephew so you're already kinda special. You will be the first grandchild in the family too, so your grandparents are over the moon and I just know they're going to spoil you rotten! Even when they have more nephews/nieces and grandchildren, you will hold a special place in these people's hearts because you were the first (just don't tell your siblings/cousins that OK?).

My doctor says you are due on the 1^st of June, but I think he calculated it wrong and in fact you're due to arrive on the 25^th of May. If you're anything like me you'll be early, because I hate being late! One of our friends is even starting a sweeps where people can bet money on your arrival date and time! I'm trying not to wish away these last few weeks of pregnancy (which is hard because you're getting heavy to carry around) and just enjoy the whole experience. Daddy and I can't wait to see you, but you need to cook a little longer, so until we meet, keep growing... just not too big please.

Love Mummy xxx

Godparent vs Oddparent

This post may prove to be my undoing, because I'm going to talk about one of those subjects that tends to get people very hot under the collar (and not because there is fresh baby spew there)... religion.

My beautiful friend, Emily, is becoming a Godmother in a few weeks time and allowed me to pick her brain about what exactly being a Godparent entails these days and how she thinks she'll respond to the challenge. The invitation to be little Evan's Godmother came as a bit of a shock to her since she was never christened and not religious in any way. So with her self professed heathen-ness, Emily sees her role as being a support person not only to the baby but the parents – something she would have done anyway even if not asked to be a yummy (God)mummy. Currently that support is shown in way of copious amounts of cuddles and baby talk. An excellent start I think. She won't be the sort dishing out unwanted advise and telling the parents that they're doing everything wrong, because as she points out, that's not a Godparent's job – that's the In-Law's job.

The role of Godparents seems to have changed to be more hands on in recent years. Or perhaps that is just my view since although I had plenty to do with my Godparents, it was more in their original roles as my great uncle and second cousin. Their status as 'the chosen ones' wasn't really mentioned. My childhood understanding of the reason for having them was if your parents passed away, you automatically got given to them. I remember thinking “Which one would I go and live with?” the bachelor uncle or the married with two kids cousin? I always felt a little bit bad after wondering, as if somehow thinking about it would make it happen (if you're wondering I chose the cousin, just because her kids had a Playstation – I'm that shallow).

These days when my friends have their children Christened the decision of who the Godparents will be has been known to cause massive rifts. Aunty Mary is upset that she wasn't chosen and your brother thinks that he'd make a much better stand in parent than Uncle Bob, despite his numerous convictions and drug habit. In terms of playing happy families, these decisions can have massive consequences. Perhaps that is why, in my own experience, its becoming more the norm to choose friends rather than family for this role. If you can't keep everyone in the family happy, don't choose any of them!

Friends who are Godparents themselves seem to take the role very seriously, and swell with pride when introducing the little munchkin - its not just their mate's kid but their Godchild. Because what better proof is there that someone thinks you're awesome? They've entrusted you to help raise their child or look after them if something terrible should happen.

The other option these days for the non-religious folk is to have a “Name Day” where you have a civil ceremony pretty similar to a Christening, just minus the man in the robes at the front with the holy water. You pick 'guardians' to take on the Godparent role and hey presto, you have a Name Day, complete with cake. But I don't see myself going down that road either – to me it screams “I want you to give me presents”. Because the people you would invite to one of these celebrations would normally be your closest friends and family, the same ones who a few weeks earlier probably gave you a little something for the baby's birth. How many rattles does one child need after all?

After all that though, I'm not bestowing that honour on anyone. Like the delightful Emily, I too am a heathen (doomed to spend eternity in purgatory according to my Catholic upbringing) and don't want to have Tricky baptised in to a system that I don't support. I'm attracted to the concept of adults making their own decisions about faith, so when Tricky is old enough to understand the complexities of religion, he can decide for himself what path to follow.

Having a pretty un-religious family this isn't going to cause any problems. I'm not too sure what I'd do if I had very traditional In-Laws that demanded their grandchild follow the way of the church. Would I fight it or just go with the flow for the sake of peace and unity? I'd like to think I'm feisty enough to stand up for what I believe in... but I'm so open to suggestion that if I was presented with a super cute Christening outfit for Tricky I'd probably at the church steps in no time. Again, yes, I'm that shallow.

The only problem I can foresee with the 'choose your own adventure' path is that Tricky will join some bizarre religious cult where you can only wear fuchsia and have to shave the left side of your head. That would make such a lovely addition to family holiday events, I'm sure. "Could you pass the salt please Lord Tricky of the Holy Fuchsia Order?"

Great Expectations

This week has been a whirlwind of both weather systems and emotions, and like everything at the moment it has me thinking about Tricky and his future.

Hubby and I had a very short trip down to his home town of Albany for the funeral of his music teacher, friend and mentor, Peter Rasmussen.

Mr Ras (rhymes with jazz) was such an inspiration to everyone he met and his passion and great skill almost single handedly created the thriving music scene in the Great Southern - if I was to list the bands he was either in or was the conductor of, we'd be here for weeks.

Such was this man's popularity with both young and old there had to be two officials directing traffic on the road to the church where his memorial service was held! The Albany City Wind Ensemble comprising some thirty plus members were on the stage (with sheet music and tissues on their stands) providing the music for the service including the most brilliant farewell song called “Instant Concert” (played when the pallbearers removed the coffin to go to the burial).

You have to hear the song to truly understand how brilliantly uplifting it was to say goodbye to Mr Ras with this song (the clip below shows the song being played by the South Australian Police Band) a fitting send off for someone with, I'm told a wicked sense of humour. Because that's the thing – I only met him on two occasions and didn't actually know him, I only knew of him through the countless stories told to me by Hubby and his friends.

My first time meeting Mr Ras, I could see Hubby swell with pride to mention to his musical mentor that he had married a muso! The fact that I play saxophone and not the trumpet was quickly glossed over, as both Hubby and Mr Ras were partial to the brass. But I was a muso none the less, and I got Mr Ras' approval. I was thinking this as the music swelled toward the end of the ceremony and felt Tricky do somersaults every time the timpani was struck. When I mentioned Tricky's response to the timpani a wry smile crossed Hubby's face to be quickly replaced by a look of fake disgust when he whispered to me “Oh no, our child is going to be a percussionist!”.

With musical parents Tricky will be exposed to many genres from birth, and I would love for him to experience as many instruments as possible. Its never to early to start I'm told, which is why you can get such tiny weeny little violins. So what do I wish for him?

Other than the standard health, happiness and the hope that the teenage years aren't too atrocious, I do have little daydreams of him playing an instrument (normally the trumpet because that would suit my budget – we already have one!) and taking him to band practice, although the day dreams stop before I have to bake a cake to help raise funds for the next band trip. I'm not too sure of the reasoning behind these dreams – do I want him to follow in my footsteps as a way of confirming to me that I made good choices? Or do I want him to have those experiences because in my memories the ones with music in them are the best?

Music opened up a whole new world to me and brought many friends and experiences not limited to “this one time on band camp” stories. The feelings of pride and accomplishment that would come when you'd mastered a difficult piece of music or won a prize in an eisteddfod were addictive.

I suppose all I can wish for is that Tricky finds something in life that he has a passion for, be it music, sport, science, art or the thousand other fields he'll have to choose from. If he is anything like his father he'll be a strange mix of a few very different areas: science and technology, music and V8 motorsport.

In loving memory of Peter Rasmussen
13th September 1947 - 16th March 2010