The Plunge Down Under

A Day in the Life of James

My mom started this post last Friday, but then the computer was hijacked by my dad for the entire weekend.  Something about taxes.  No one was very happy about it, including my dad.  So she had to wait and finish it on Monday.  I think she is going to interview my sisters and brother about their schooling for future posts, but this time I get to go first.

A few weeks ago my parents and my grandparents were pretty worried about me.  They didn't know what I would do when my three older siblings all went off to school.  They have been at home with me since I was born, you see, and so I have almost always had someone to play with me.  In fact, I was even listed as a chore in our daily household routine, which pretty much meant if no one would play with me voluntarily, my mom could make my brother or one of my sisters do it for a period of time.

I don't know what all of the fuss was, however, because I am thoroughly enjoying my time at home without them.  A couple of times I have clung to Sophie's arm and begged her not to go to school,  but for the most part, I am happy to play with my puzzles for hours on end, look at books by myself, and play outside.  I really love helping my mom around the house, especially in the kitchen, but I have also learned to collect the dirty laundry, help hang out the washing on the line, sweep up the dead leaves into the rubbish bin, and scrub the bathroom floors.  Every once in a while my mom gives me a big hug, which I tolerate, and exclaims that she doesn't know what she would ever do without me.

Today has been an especially good day.  For one thing, it is Friday, which means that tomorrow my daddy gets to stay home.  Saturday is the best day of the week, of course, because he is home after going to work for five days, and Sunday is second best because in addition to daddy staying home, we get to go to church.  But Fridays are pretty good.  Today Cameron cut me up several pieces of watermelon for breakfast, probably my favorite thing to eat. We usually get to play in the morning for a while after the girls leave for school.  Then Cameron has to leave.

Today we walked with him to school.  Cameron usually rides his scooter, so I rode mine as well.  I went so fast that my mom had to run like mad to keep up, and she said that in the future I would be wearing my helmet for safety.  I wanted to keep up with my big brother, of course, plus it is so much fun to go fast.

Once we got to school I played on the playground and met some of Cameron's friends.  I love the playground.  Then Cameron had to get on a big bus to go to a swim meet.  My mom and I went a bit later to watch, and I got to meet more of his friends.  The boys wanted me to share my chips with them (I wasn't feeling generous), and the girls fussed over me.  I pretended to ignore them, but I enjoyed the attention.  Cameron swam pretty well, but I soon got bored.  Thankfully the kind lifeguards let me swim in the splash pool, which is pretty much my very favorite thing to do. 

We also got to walk to the library today.  I wore my helmet this time, but I wasn't in the mood to go fast.  Instead, I stopped and examined every single street number at length along the way.  Numbers are one of my top passions, in contrast to letters of the alphabet which I find very ordinary. It really bothers me though that the numbers on the street keep skipping.  My mom has long since given up trying to explain the system to me, but I keep asking her about it anyway.

The last time I checked in with you was shortly after our trip to Singapore.  As you might recall, I wasn't very impressed with that city, and so I thought I had it made when just two weeks later we were on the long plane ride to Pittsburgh.  What they failed to tell me was that we weren't going back to Pittsburgh to stay.  What a disappointment.  I have survived, however, and now I only ask to go back to the United States every other day or so.

Right now my main ambition is to turn five.  I really want to be five, because six is next, and I have been told that when I am six, we will be back in Pittsburgh.  I ask regularly, probably only five or six times an hour, how much longer it will be until my fifth birthday.  Occasionally I ask about other birthdays as well.  I have known for quite some time, for example, that it will be 36 years until I turn 40, and a mere 96 until my 100th birthday.  I check every day just to make sure those numbers haven't changed.

The other thing I want to do is become a swimming lessons guy.  That is a great job.  Today we watched a giant excavator digging out the front yard of a house on our street.  It was so close I could have touched it, but my mom kept a firm grip on my shoulder.  Then I decided I would be one of those machine guys when I grow bigger.

There are a few things I like about Australia.  The waves are amazing.  The last time we went to the beach it started out cool and cloudy, so we weren't wearing swimming clothes.  That didn't stop me.  My dad, who was in charge of me, had his back turned, so in I went. 

 

Next I fell in the sand, of course.

And then my mom made me get cleaned up and marched me back to our apartment, muttering something about three loads of laundry, and we'd only been away from home for fifteen hours.

You have also heard about Puffing Billy.  Here I am riding this past Saturday.

Australia isn't so bad after all. 

 

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Puffing Billy

Yet another delightful surprise is the subject of my post today.  We had originally intended to ride the Puffing Billy back in September in honor of James turning four, but lousy weather combined with general exhaustion as we settled in to our new country pushed the idea far to the back burner.  Had we known just how beautiful the trip would be, how fun the experience to ride on a restored narrow gauge train from the turn of the previous century, we just may have found the time and the energy to make the trip sooner.  Thankfully my mom did some research and concluded that it might be a good way for my grandmother to experience the Dandenong Mountains. 

I don't know exactly what I expected, but I assumed that the ride would be more interesting to James than the rest of us.  While James certainly enjoyed himself, the grownups found themselves in for a treat as well.  Originally constructed in the early 1900s as a low-cost way to open up isolated areas in the mountains, the Puffing Billy Railway quickly became a tourist attraction due to the spectacular scenery en route.  It passes through forests, fern gullies (my personal favorite), and farmlands as it winds its way through the Dandenong Ranges.

After closing in 1953 due to operating losses combined with landslides, the Puffing Billy was eventually restored between the years 1962 to 1998.  It currently boasts over 600 dedicated volunteers, all of whom appear to love what they do.  "You have chosen a great day to ride the Puffing Billy," one of the head conductors cheerfully asserted as we boarded.  Their pride and enthusiasm were contagious.

We dutifully showed up thirty minutes prior to the scheduled departure time on a mid-weekday morning.  We were a bit shocked to discover the train was already packed with giddy tourists, grins and cameras at the ready.

Not only are passengers permitted to perch on the narrow rails with legs and feet dangling outside of the carriages, this feature is proudly featured in the literature and signage promoting the Puffing Billy.  I have learned that I need to be more vigilant as a parent in Australia as safety standards are much more lax.  In many ways, this is quite refreshing.  We are sadly obsessed with lawsuit possibilities in the land of the free and the brave.

Prior to the return trip to Belgrave, James finally had his turn dangling.  Fortunately he found it a bit frightening once the train started to move so he didn't last long in this position.

 

I of course had a field day with the camera.

Payback:

The engineers scolded us when we got a bit too close as they shoveled out the burning coals.

James and one of the head conductors began to bond by the end of our two hour ride.

The older children of course did not think it was fair we went without them.  I foresee yet another journey in the very near future.

Farewell and Godspeed

One would think we would be pretty good at good-byes by now.  A hug, a wave, a "see you soon" with a cheerful smile (that fools no one) have been repeated ever so many times over the past year.  J at least remains true to his feelings, although his manners leave much to be desired.  While he did agree to ride along in the car to the airport on Friday, he refused to give any hugs, say good-bye, or even look at my parents and grandmother as they exited our car in front of the International Departures area of the Melbourne airport.  I think, I hope at least, that they understood. Life brings many painful moments, and surely for most of us it is easier to pretend those moments aren't happening rather than to face them head on.

S may well have made up for J the night before after our final meal together.  She has always been a hugger, loving nothing more than giving and receiving a squeeze.

One silver lining in the trip home for my dad was his very first opportunity to ride on the A380.   Much to his delight, the A380 appeared back in the flying schedule for Qantas on the route between Melbourne and L.A. just two days before their flight home.

From all accounts, the flight was much enjoyed, and my dad at least hopes to make one more voyage on an A380.  Since he didn't include any pictures of himself hard at work at our house in the post that he wrote, I thought I would throw in a few for you.   The drain in the picture below is one that overflowed at the outset of the monsoon, sending most of the rain through the doorway into our garage, and from there, into our house.

One last, much appreciated "repair" was an attempt to collect the lint from our dryer, which most unfortunately vents right back into our laundry room rather than to the outside.

And just to show that he didn't spend all of his time holding the place together, here he is reading my mom's Kindle in our backyard:

After completing the airport run on Friday, J and I had little time to spend moping.  Fortunately we had been given important work to do:  We were in charge of the fairy bread for afternoon tea that night.  I had volunteered several times previously to help with afternoon tea at cricket, but for some reason my name never ended up on the roster.  Apparently this time it was felt I could handle doing the fairy bread, so off to the store we went to purchase the necessary items.

The three ingredients of fairy bread are white bread, butter, and one hundreds and thousands.  J was quite excited over the final item on the list, and proved to be a very willing helper in both the preparing and consuming side of things.

Painful as good-byes are, we do realize we have been blessed to have visitors once again.  They will be missed, have in fact already been missed, but we are grateful for the memories and look forward to creating many more in the future.

Heaps of Roses

So much about Australia has taken us by surprise.  Nearly every day brings a fresh revelation, exposing the depth of our ignorance yet further.  Occasionally these surprises give cause for dismay, but today I write about one that falls into the lovely category, namely the amazing abundance of rose bushes in the state of Victoria.  Who would have thought?  I am almost certain that if you mentioned the word Australia to any American on the street, roses would not figure in the top ten, twenty or even one hundred list of things that might come to mind.  Kangaroos, koalas and eucalypts, yes, of course, but never a rose bush. They have very much been a part of our daily lives since last October, however, and to that I have absolutely no objection.

I took the picture above last October in our front yard, and have been photographing roses every since.  I was finally inspired today to complete a post about them after we visited a stunning rose garden at Werribee Park. We stumbled upon it almost by accident, but having discovered it, my mom, grandmother and I were quite happy to take a lovely wander through the pathways.  As we browsed, admired, and inhaled, a kookaburra cackled in a nearby tree.

 

We left my dad and James on a shaded bench on the outskirts of the rose garden.  When we eventually returned, he was sure we had taken more than enough time to fully appreciate each one of the 5000 bushes on display.

I don't like to admit it, but the days have become noticeably shorter.  Thus far the rose bushes continue to produce fresh blooms, however, and we plan to enjoy them for several more weeks.

 

"Drown Under" (by Christie's Dad)

In need of a laugh?  The following post should help.  I am most grateful to my dad for agreeing to supply a post from his second visit. 

The excitement of once again touching down in Melbourne was only magnified when the aircraft door swung open and the warm, moist southern Australia air rushed in.  Fantastic.  A few hours later we were sitting at the edge of a cricket grounds watching Cameron play when the sky looked a little threatening to the southwest?  (or whatever direction, my directional sense being a bit messed up here).  No worries, the cricket mums assured us, it is all blowing over to the south of us.  Several hours later yet, we were settling in at Ross and Christie's home when the monsoon hit.  In the next two hours 12-14 cm. (5-6 inches for Americans) of rain came down.  The house held up well as it managed to keep out almost half of it.  I've heard of the sky opening up, but this time the ceiling did as well.  It's times like these when great comfort is to be experienced by being in a rental property.  We did our best to contain the many liters that fell through the light fixtures and other openings, but there was still a very wet floor to deal with, not to mention counter tops and stove in the kitchen.  No worries.  Who cares about jet-lag anyway.  It's overrated.

The storm passed, but repair time began the next morning.  First of all, the deluge short-circuited the electronic lock on the driveway gate, rendering it stuck in the closed position.  It was not a big deal, I suppose, except the cars were trapped on the inside.  Normally, one would call the landlord, etc. for help.  Christie and Ross's experience has been that repairmen do not arrive in a timely manner (i.e. within a week or two).  So, a little reworking of that little box at the bottom center of the photo was in order.  It will never be quite the same.  So far now, the door opens on command.

That was outside of the home.  On the inside, we went from a gate that would not open to a drawer that would not close.  The rain water got to it, and caused the pressed wood to swell.  A disassembling and chiselling off the offending swollen areas seemed to do the trick.  There must have been about a liter of water trapped in the recesses of the stove top, by the way.

I should mention that all of Ross's and my tools are in the U.S., but Ross does have a very basic tool kit.  More tools were needed, but heavy investment was not desired, so what better store to find than a hardware store selling used stuff.  It was a wonderful store, full of every tool ever invented.  I was looking for a 3/4 inch wood chisel, and was trying to convert to millimeters when I came across a  wood chisel with "3/4 inch" stamped right on it. It was very used, but with most of its wood handle still attached.  Best of all, it was cheap.  About the price of a "long black" coffee.

Other non-storm related repairs became necessary early on in our stay.  For one, the main bathroom toilet refused to operate.  No problem, a plumber could come in a week or two.  So dismantling the tank revealed a broken flush mechanism.  We just took apart the broken pieces and confidently took them to a bigger plumbing store.  "Nope" was his helpful reply.  "Not made anymore, as far as I know."  Yankee ingenuity solved the problem, maybe even permanently, as the next photo shows.  Designer rope like this may become the rage in Melbourne.  Again, it was cheap.

A majorly underproducing air conditioner was discovered to have plugged internal filters with enough lint to block the light from the sun.

Other repairs included re-installing a detached shower door,  re-attaching a kitchen cupboard door, and opening up an inside door with a jammed lockset.  It is, though, a really nice rental property.  (At least, before  repairs happened).  Ahh, vacation.

I love Australia, for its beauty and accents (wait, they say we have the accent), and for all things different.  Where else would you find a cement truck with the back half painted pink?  Or reassuring signs such as this one?

Or sinks shaped like this one?

Or beautiful parks that invite you to enjoy to the max, telling everyone that parks help you to live longer, but then include these calming signs?

 

Where else would school kids be allowed to ride on a train in the fashion seen below?  Don't worry, the train never went more than 70 kph (40-45 mph).  Is that a narrow tunnel ahead?

In Australia, you can enjoy absolutely beautiful scenery ... and never be heard from again.

 In Australia you can go to Mackers (Micky D's) and spend $3.50 for coffee and get a cone to go with it for only 50 cents.  You can drive on the expressways and see bicycles riding on the side in their bike lanes.  (I wish America was little more pedestrian/bicycle friendly).  A lot of people like to talk to you because you talk differently.  On the tollways you can drive your son-in-law's car and never spend any cash for tolls.  You just hear the occasional "beep."  It may possibly show up on someone's credit card though.  Gas is only $1.35 a gallon.  Wait, that's per liter.

It does not take long at all to be here and to like it here.  There's killer crocs, snakes, spiders, and flies, but, to put things in perspective, most Australians survive all that.  And Aussies are very nice people.  Getting acclimated to things is surprisingly easy, even driving.  I just wish that the wipers didn't come on every time I turn the corner.  What's up with that?

 

My Grandmother Goes to Melbourne

It is not every day that a forty-year old with a family of her own has the pleasure of welcoming a grandmother who has flown half way 'round the world to see her.  Amazement has been the response of many who heard that she planned to visit, but visit she has, much to our delight.  I asked her just now for her thoughts on Australia, and she replied, "Beautiful!"  She has certainly seen enough of  the state of Victoria to have an opinion, as I will attempt to demonstrate from a few photos.  My favorite one of her was taken Sunday afternoon at a place called Loch Ard Gorge, along the Great Ocean Road.

I think my grandmother's hair looks especially nice.  We booked her an appointment at Basin Cuts in Malvern, and the man who did her hair was exceptionally thorough as well as friendly, providing her with an excellent down under experience.  My mother was amused by listening to the conversation of a pair of ladies getting their hair done at the same time.  Their complaint of the day was the lack of culture demonstrated by the increasing numbers of those who take away their hot drinks rather than sitting down to consume them properly in a cafe. "Can you imagine that they drink their tea for all to see?" exclaimed the one.  "Tsk, tsk, tsk," agreed the other. "There is no privacy to be had when one is walking down the street."  Fortunately my mother had neglected to bring in her take away cappuccino with her.

Loch Ard Gorge may well have been the most spectacular sight of the past week, but several other places have also provided a feast for our senses.  Thanks to my grandmother's generosity, we stayed two nights in Apollo Bay in an apartment overlooking the water.  The next two pictures show the view from our windows.

And here we are soaking in the scenery and sunshine:

One fervent wish of my grandmother was fulfilled midway through our trip on the Great Ocean Road.  Most happily my mother decided to read the guest book in our apartment, and there she heard about a colony of koalas near Cape Otway.  Eyes peeled on the tree branches overhead, we made our way down the road to the Cape Otway Lighthouse, and we were not disappointed.  Many were still sleeping, but others had woken to eat and to peer down at the handful of tourists below them.

In some cases the koalas were perched directly over the road itself.  We had been hearing grunting noises that sounded similar to what you might hear on a pig farm.  Ross mentioned the existence of feral pigs and started shooing James back into the car, but we confirmed that it was the koalas when one just overhead lifted its noise high in the air and grunted for minute or so.

For lunch the following day we enjoyed fish and chips in Port Campbell.  It is hard to say which part we enjoyed more, the beautiful beach or the perfectly crispy fish.

Other highlights include a trip to Cooks Cottage, the oldest building in Australia according to the signage at the site.  It was built in England in the 1700s by the parents of Captain Cook and later transported to Melbourne.

Cape Schanck of course received a visit early on in the week.  It is somewhat humorous that I spent so much time worrying about the weather being too hot for sightseeing.  Jackets have been desirable most days during the past week and a half.

My grandmother mentioned just now that I had better include photos of the Little Penguin we found this afternoon.  We walked the pier at St. Kilda Beach in the hopes of finding one, and thanks to James, we found one not old enough yet to go out to sea.  Most of the holes in the rocks had only feathers left, so we were happy to come upon this little guy preening himself.  Once or twice he stuck his head out, but I had some trouble getting the camera to focus on him rather than the rocks.

We have also had a wonderful ride through the Dandenong Mountains on the much-loved Puffing Billy, but that will be a post of its own. Tomorrow we hope to visit the Werribee Mansion, and that will give us one remaining day before they are off to the airport again.  Apparently the Qantas pilots are threatening to strike, so it remains to be seen whether they will make it out of Melbourne as planned.  We will be quite happy to have them stay a bit longer, especially James, but hopefully for their sake the trip home will go as smoothly as the journey this direction.

 

An Australian Sunset by Suzanne

The visit with my parents and grandmother is going so well that there has been no time for blogging.  At the moment we are preparing for a much-anticipated, two-night trip on the Great Ocean Road.  In the meantime I thought I would leave with you just a few of the 500 or so sunset pictures that my cousin Suzanne took on our visit nearly three weeks ago to Cape Schanck.  It was truly a great pleasure to spend a week with such a kindred spirit, especially one who loves to take pictures as much, or perhaps even more, than I do.  

 

Cape Schanck: The Sequel

Note:  This morning I have sent my parents and grandmother off for a visit to Cape Schanck on the Mornington Peninsula while James and I catch up on the homefront.  We are taking care of minor details such as the ever-present, never-ending laundry, a cooktop that was flooded last Friday and will need to be unplugged for up to two more weeks according to our appliance expert, and a seemingly possessed radio in our car which randomly turns itself on and off, switches between FM and AM whenever it desires, interferes with the gps, and generally is at its most troublesome when I am on the verge of getting lost somewhere.

Today seems like an appropriate time to get back to a blog post that I started on our second trip to Cape Schanck a few weeks ago.  Since that time, we have also made a third trip, and I'll throw in a few of those pictures as well.  But back to the second visit:

What to do with a gorgeous January Saturday afternoon and nothing on the calendar?  Neither Ross nor I had to think long about that.  We brushed aside the by now completely predictable groans from three of our offspring over yet another car journey, and programmed the gps for our second visit to the Lighthouse at Cape Schanck.  We knew they would end up having a wonderful time in spite of themselves, and even if they did not, we were more than ready for another dose of gorgeous scenery on the Mornington Peninsula.

A quick phone call to our friends confirmed that they would be happy to join us, a few things were thrown together for a picnic supper (too few as it turned out), the sunscreen and hat for one child were left behind, and we were on our way.  Thankfully Andrea came to our rescue with both sunscreen and an extra hat, meaning no one suffered from sunburn.  She also partially fed two of our children.  Someday I will hopefully get my act together, although at the current rate it is looking more and more doubtful.  I did remember the camera, however---I believe it was the first thing loaded into the car, and had more fun than I ever would have dreamed possible clicking away the afternoon.

Before reaching Cape Schanck, we stopped to admire Port Phillip Bay in its entirety.

The Melbourne skyline was just this side of visible in the haze:

We found the scenery at Cape Schanck to be even more beautiful than we remembered from the first visit.

The tide was out far enough for us to explore the rocky beach to the west of Pulpit Rock.  Ignoring the warning signs, the children ran out on the rocks, shrieking and retreating as the occasional wave came pouring over their toes.  We wished we had thought to carry out our picnic supper, and made plans for a future photo shoot before Christmas card time next year.

Just a little over a week later we were back again, this time with cousins, and later in the day.  The tide was in, meaning we could not explore the rocks, but I think this was just fine with Suzanne who had read enough about the deadly blue ringed octopus to be fearful of Australia's beaches, especially the rocky ones.

 

The kids made it back to the top before the moms, some more happily than others.  Eventually they received their promised lemonade and LOLs, a refreshing ending to a gorgeous afternoon.  The last three or four pictures are from Suzanne's camera card.  I started going through them to include a few, and there were so many I loved that I will save most for a future post.

 

The Water Pours In Through Our Roof

Cyclones Anthony and Yasi conspired to provide an extremely wet welcome for my parents and grandmother yesterday, and at one point last evening, I doubted whether they would ever return to visit us down under.  We had been watching the sky grow gradually darker during supper, and as the rain began, we were all drawn toward the windows in the dining room to get a closer look at the wall of rain pouring down outside of our house.  We had no idea we were just about to receive nearly five inches of water in the space of a few hours, and that far too much of this water was about to enter indoors.

The sound of dripping water on the dining room floor sent me scurrying to the laundry room for a bucket, and it was at this point I realized we had a problem.  Water was pouring in through the ceiling vent.  A portable bathtub would have been more appropriate than a bucket for this room.  In the kitchen, the same problem confronted us from the stove top vent.  I went from one spot to the other, uselessly carrying large beach towels.  Fortunately my parents were able to think more clearly and soon had all available rubbish bins employed catching water.  They filled in less than five minutes.  Just about that time we realized that the garage was flooding, and that the water was flowing in to the mudroom with astonishing force and rapidity. 

My dad and Katie jumped into action with large brooms, and after opening the garage door, they began sweeping it out into the driveway toward the street.  I had noticed that the outdoor drain was clogged with tree debris from our neighbor's house just two days prior, but had not progressed beyond calling our rental agent to alert her that it would need to be serviced.  In hindsight, I should have pried off the cover myself and cleaned it out with my bare hands, although I am not sure it could have handled all the water even had it been completely clean.

I am thankful for many things,  first of all, that we were home when it happened, and secondly, that I was not the only adult in the house.  My exhausted parents and grandmother had already said goodnight (after being up for nearly 40 hours) when the rain began, but they woke up in a hurry and provided invaluable help.  Ross and Cameron were driving home from a canceled cricket game, a trip that involved several turnarounds due to flooded streets.  Apparently 1300 calls were made in the course of the evening in our state of Victoria for help.  Cameron thought that he witnessed one driver running around amongst floating cars in his underwear, but it may have been the man in the picture Ross took below:

The damage in Victoria pales in comparison, of course, to that experienced by the residents of several seaside towns in the state of Queensland as a result of Cyclone Yasi.  The damage there is shocking to behold.  One octagenarian proclaimed to a newspaper reporter that he wished he had perished in the cyclone rather than having to face rebuilding his life after his entire house was destroyed.  That there has been so little loss of life from this category 5 storm is truly amazing.

Here is James earlier in the day.  He had the privilege of going to the airport with me to pick up our guests, and he greeted them with his "Little Aussie Bloke" t-shirt (on sale at Target after Australia Day).

We didn't have enough bowls, pots, pans, rubbish bins or buckets to contain the numerous drips and streams that came the ceiling through a few hours later.

My mom's eyes are closed in the next picture, but she wanted me to include it as proof of her hard work helping us clean up.  Mud and debris from the neighbor's trees poured in along with the water.  My dad thinks that the wind probably lifted up the roof tiles, allowing the rain to come straight in through the ceiling vents.

The mudroom after we pushed the water back into the garage:

Katie hurried from room to room worrying for the first ten minutes, but seemed to enjoy pushing the water out of the garage.

I don't have a picture of my grandmother from last night, but for the record, she spent this time clearing the table, rinsing the dishes, and completing the clean up from the supper table even though I urged her to sit down and stay away from the wet floors.

Fortunately the torrential rain did not last more than half an hour or so.  I had been worried we would need to stay up all night emptying buckets, but it soon slowed to a steady drip in the kitchen.  We left a few pots and pans in place and went to be hoping for the best.  The good news is that there appeared to be no leaking overnight.  We now have ceiling stains in several rooms downstairs, but no carpet was harmed. For this, and for so much more, we are grateful.

 

 

Back to School

We had been warned that the first week back to school typically involves searingly hot weather of 100 degrees plus F, and this week started out to be no exception.  Early Monday morning we drove Katie to her first day at Presbyterian Ladies College Senior School for the beginning of Year 7, and by the time we left around 10am, the mercury was well on its way to the predicted high of 104.  We are most grateful for an air conditioning unit in our kitchen, as well as an additional wall unit upstairs.  The two of them together manage to keep most rooms in the house fairly comfortable. Tuesday was equally as hot, but fortunately both days we experienced the cool change predicted by evening.  Tuesday's drop of nearly 30 degrees F around 3:30pm was especially dramatic.

There are all the expected mixtures of emotions as we have sent three children to school this week.  I blogged last spring about sending our firstborn off to school for the first time, but that was a bit different than sending three.  Sophie has been so excited, however, that in many ways it was a relief when the big day finally came.  Cameron was not quite so sure about the prospect, but came home yesterday full of enthusiasm.

Here is Katie in her summer uniform:

The girls just about to enter the school gates on Tuesday, the first official day of school at Presbyterian Ladies College:

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We met Sophie's teacher on Monday, and she was extremely kind to Sophie, telling her several times not to worry about anything at all, but just to ask if she had a question or needed help.

Cameron's uniform is not quite so elaborate, much to his relief, and much to my relief, it was half the price of the girls'.  He was supposed to be wearing navy socks, but we both got mixed up.  He wears white with his physical education uniform twice a week, but navy with the regular uniform.

He really didn't want me to take the following picture, so I put the camera away and didn't embarrass him inside the classroom.  Cameron has a young male teacher, very friendly, who fits my stereotype of an Australian surfer almost exactly.  He promised to do all he could to help Cameron adjust to a new school, and in fact, as Cameron entered the classroom for the first time, the other students addressed him by name and began to show him around the school.

If I had any doubts as to whether Cameron enjoyed his first day, they were completely dispelled this morning. I gave him permission to walk ahead of me just to make sure he knew the way, and he started off at a trot before I could even say good-bye.  I realized we weren't likely to catch up to him so James and I jumped in the car and followed, but he still made it inside the school gates before we arrived.