The Plunge Down Under

Lions, Tigers, and Bears

Today James and I enjoyed our second trip to the Melbourne Zoo.  He made it very clear from the outset that we would not be wasting any time on the little animals.  This is a child for whom superlatives hold great fascination at the moment:  the biggest, the strongest, and the fastest.  He wants to be all three himself, but today he settled for the top categories of the four-footed variety.  Gorillas were first on his list, followed by lions, bears, and elephants.  An exception was made for the smaller seals, and he did allow me to take a few photos of the Australian Penguin and the Southern Fiddler Ray.  Otherwise, we stuck to the big guys.

My first attempt to capture the lions was a bit frustrating, but fortunately they moved directly underneath us.  This proved to be a bit too close for James, although he assured me as he begged me to move off the bridge that he was not at all scared.  Well, perhaps just a "little, little, very little, teeny bit," he admitted later.

We spent lots of time watching the bear as he paced back and forth in front of us.  It made me realize that there is a big advantage in taking just one child to the zoo, something I don't believe I have ever done before.  There was no one to rush us, or to urge us on to the next exhibit.  For perhaps the first time in his life, James was able to go exactly where he pleased and to remain as long as he liked. It provided some consolation for his current great sorrow, namely, that he is the youngest of the family (or, as he prefers, the "last oldest").

The pure pleasure of watching the joy on the face of our son throughout our entire visit combined with lots of opportunities to take photos made this day one I hope to repeat in the near future.

 

Reflections From the Laundry Room

A couple of weeks ago I realized that, strangely enough, the laundry room has become one of my favorite places to be. This is just as well when one is running a household with four children, three of whom need very specific uniform items on different days of the week, and one of whom manages to go through clothing at a shocking rate.  It does not explain, however, the pleasure I sometimes feel over realizing that I have several loads to conquer.

Given the generous amount of laundry generated lately, I have had plenty of time to consider the reasons.  First of all is the luxury of having a room dedicated to laundry in the first place.  I may never again have this much counter and cupboard space adjacent to the washer and dryer.  It also helps that this area is set off from the rest of the house.  I am pretty sure that Ross forgets about its existence altogether for long periods of time, as do the children.  The latter fact, I must confess, may explain in large part the attractions of this place.  For some reason they never think to look for me there.  I will hear them calling, calling, calling for me, but I am careful not to give away my location.  Instead I wait until they have gone searching upstairs, where I rarely go, before making my reappearrance in the kitchen. "Moooom! Where were you?"  "Just around," is my usual non-committal reply.

In this way I have begun to think of the laundry room as a sort of personal haven in the chaos of daily life.  So many homework assignments to complete, piano pieces to master, lunches to be made, shoes and socks to be found, difficult decisions to be made ("Just so you know, Mom, I am the only girl in my entire class that is not allowed on face book!, for example). The laundry is so uncomplicated by comparison, so peaceful, and it never argues back.  Sort, throw into the machine, add detergent, push some buttons, and walk away.  Come back later to hang up, and then return to savor the warm, humid air.  I can even find enjoyment in folding the clothes, although most definitely not in putting them away, and as for ironing, that rarely happens.

As much as I appreciate my laundry room, however, it does not hold a candle to our front garden.  It has become my most favorite hangout of late, given the warm, sunny days with which we have been blessed.  I have found a few dry spots in our yard to crouch, point the camera, and click away at the new life appearing daily.  The joy that I find in this activity is difficult to explain.  I will try to communicate some of that joy through a handful of my most recent photos, all taken just a few steps outside our front door.

Winter Bike Ride

Planning for this fairly simple family bike ride began well over one year ago.  Tonight I am pleased to report that it finally happened, and was a reasonable success.  Getting the six of us, with all the gear needed for biking, to the path along Port Phillip Bay turned out to be a bit more difficult than Ross originally anticipated, but after a trial run last week with half of the family, he figured out how it could be accomplished. We are now looking forward to the next time, and, we hope, the time after that.

We parked the car somewhere in Brighton just before 4pm and headed toward St. Kilda.  The air was a bit chilly by the water, but still quite pleasant for an August day in Melbourne.

Chocolate bars had been purchased earlier in the day in anticipation of the need to refuel midway.  They were devoured by all, and much enjoyed.  We realized, however, that next time we need to bring more substantial fare to help small legs continue the journey all of the way back to the car.

As we sat and munched on chocolate, we watched swimmers from the St. Kilda Bathing Club enter the frigid water.  I have been told by multiple sources that many men swim iin Port Phillip Bay every morning year round at 6:30 for fitness.  I don't really plan to personally verify this, but given the level of dedication here to sport, swimming, and health, I can well believe it to be the case.

The bike path from Brighton to St. Kilda affords views of what must be some of the hottest real estate in Melbourne.

Rays from the setting sun provided a picture perfect finish to our first family bike trip.  Were it not for four ravenous children, we would have lingered longer to savor the sky. Next time perhaps.

 

Gillian Goes to Costco

Two months ago I wrote about exploring our local shopping mall with local fashion expert and friend Gillian, who kindly undertook the chore of initiating me into the rather expensive pleasure of clothes shopping in Melbourne.   This weekend I had the opportunity to return the favor by taking her to the one store to which I can claim expertise in Australia, the warehouse club store known as Costco.  When Ross and I landed in Melbourne for the first time in February of 2010, we were thrilled to drive by a Costco en route from the airport to our hotel.  We later learned it was the only one in Australia (a second one, in Sydney, was under construction).

When we lived in Pittsburgh, a vehicle from the Wilkin family visited Costco at least once a week.  Only a five minute drive from our house, it proved irresistible to our family of six, although whether it actually saved us any money is highly debatable.  Instead we would often walk into the store for staples such as milk, eggs, and butter, only to exit much later with products we had never before realized that we needed so desperately. 

Costco in Melbourne is not nearly so convenient, and we were not sure whether it would be worth it to purchase a membership.  However, at one point a few months ago, when loneliness for home had hit a new level for me, Ross convinced me to go on a Saturday.  I vividly remember the wonderful feelings that washed over me as we walked through the door.  I could have wept with joy over the familiarity of products such as Tide laundry detergent, Kirkland brand shampoo, and orange-colored cheddar cheese.

Gillian, along with many other Australians, has been skeptical of the attractions of a store such as Costco.  Preferring to shop at much smaller local stores filled with well-chosen, quality products, many Melburnians exude contempt for any big box store, let alone one that requires a paid membership. Curiosity, however, eventually prevailed in Gillian's case, and we made the trip last Friday. 

Her initial impressions were that it was a much more attractive shopping space than she had anticipated, rather better than shopping at the local Aldi's, for example.  The products were more intriguing than expected as well.  We happened to notice True Religion jeans early on.  I likely never would have seen them were it not for Gillian, and if I had, would not have known what they were, nor why they were so expensive.  It seems they run for about $200-$300 in local stores, and are highly desired by some women since many stars can be seen sporting them.

We spent some time trying to figure out the sizing, but did not in any way consider purchasing a pair, and soon moved on to the grocery aisles.  Reactions here were mixed, at least as far as prices were concerned.  The American apple pie immediately made it into Gillian's cart, and we also considered the pumpkin pie along with the pineapple upside down cake, desserts that are all but unknown in Australia.  Most of the food items did not strike Gillian as costing significantly less than our local grocery stores.

Although it carries a nice selection of items shipped directly from the U.S., the Melbourne Costco does not limit itself to American products.  The bakery carries lamingtons next to the apple pie, and I was also pleased to find a new favorite in our household, Chunky Dips. 

I made out with rather more than Gillian, who showed remarkable restraint in her final selections, in spite of being tempted in the linens and towles aisle.  The apple pie proved to be a big hit at our Sunday evening potluck, and there are several people now interested in tagging along on the next Costco expedition.

 

News From Sophie

For this post I must beg the indulgence of readers other than Sophie's grandparents and her friend H who requested not too long ago a "Sophie-themed blog."  Sophie and I were discussing H on our trip home from school on this Monday afternoon, and hoping that she wakes up to a relatively pain-free and happy day after her emergency room experience on the weekend.  H, we love you, we admire your strength and courage, and we pray for you often throughout our day.

After talking about H, the conversation turned to a very exciting letter Sophie received at school today.  It informed us that her recent artwork has been chosen to be part of a display in a local art gallery in an exhibition opening on September 22nd.  As neither Ross nor I has yet discovered an artistic bone in either of our bodies, we were very pleasantly surprised at this turn of events.  Sophie, of course, is pleased as well, and consented to have her picture taken out in the front garden this afternoon with her piece of art.

Under the guidance of her talented art teachers, and along with the rest of her classmates in Year 2, Sophie created a fairy tree, inspired by the tree carved by artist and author Ola Cohn from 1931 to 1934.  I happened to visit "The Fairies Tree," located in Fitzroy Gardens in downtown Melbourne, last fall, and took the following photos.

Ola Cohn carved a variety of Australian animals onto the trunk of a deceased 300 year-old Redgum tree, with the intention of creating a sanctuary for fairies that would be especially appreciated by children.  In 1977 the tree was taken out of the ground and mounted on a concrete base for preservation purposes.

As you might recall, Sophie went on an excursion into the city last Friday and as part of her tour, her class visited The Fairies Tree.  They also were taken up to the top of the Eureka Tower, where they walked out onto the Skydeck, the highest public viewing point in the Southern Hemisphere.  Sophie tells us that it is the tallest tower with people living in it in the whole world.  The whole day was a thorough success for our third-born.  She was thrilled to have one of her two art teachers as bus driver, as he apparently provided a most interesting commentary during their drive to and from the city.  We were glad to see that she still has some enthusiasm for sight-seeing after so many new experiences during the past twelve months.

 

 

Spray Jackets and Other New Phrases

We may have been here for more than a year, but we are still learning new words and phrases.  The kids, of course, are way ahead of me, but occasionally I can help them out.  Last week, Sophie's violin teacher, upon seeing Sophie waiting outside her office first thing in the morning, asked her if she was "the first cab off the rank."  Responding to Sophie's questioning eyes, she repeated herself and then rephrased until, with some prodding from me, Sophie was able to answer.  I had not noticed this expression before, but I had no sooner gotten back in the car, then I heard it on the news.  Ross told me later that he uses it all the time at work.

Tomorrow is a big day for Sophie as she is headed into the city on an excursion, not a field trip, she reminded me on the way home from school when I inadvertantly used the American expression.  The letter sent home describing the events of the day advised that the girls should bring a "pocket play lunch" in addition to their regular lunch in disposable containers.  I had to double check on the meaning of this one.  The girls are to bring something to eat for morning tea that they can carry in the pocket of their school tunic (i.e.  their plaid uniform jumper, for my American readers.  The jumper, you might recall, refers to the woolen pullover sweater.).

Cameron had his own contributions to our ever increasing vocabulary this week.  His art teacher reproved two of his classmates recently by telling them that their disruptive behavior was "not on."  The teacher proceeded to assign them cleaning up chores.  Cameron also arrived home one day explaining that he had finally learned the correct term for the rain coat he keeps tucked away in his backpack.  It is called a "spray jacket" and has received considerable use since I purchased it for him before our move here last July.  The skies have done much more than spray lately, and I happened to notice in the newpaper this morning that the water levels in Melbourne's dams have risen from 38.8% one year ago to 63.1% today.

James and I were thankful we had our spray jackets with us today during our morning constitutional.  Rather than looking at the sky, I checked the weather forecast, and for reasons still unclear to me, we embarked on an ambitious three mile walk.  Perhaps it was due to the extra strong cappuccino I had for breakfast accompanied by a piece of extra dark chocolate, I am not sure, but at any rate, I decided to begin my much discussed, but until now only anticipated, exercise program.  Some part of my conscious mind registered the fact that the air contained what could be called a slight mist, but we set out regardless.  By the time we had reached the most distant point of the walk, the slight mist had transformed into what could only be called a steady rain.

Never mind.  We persevered, and did not consider, not even once, boarding the tram that came along at a very opportune moment.  James and I had plenty of time for talking as we walked the now empty sidewalks.  Perhaps you can help me answer some of the questions he came up with along the way.

Does God ever need a kleenex? (Our noses, like the rest of us, were a bit drippy).  Does He even have a nose?  What about a tummy?

How long does it take God to count to one billion?

How does God pick up the ground when He holds the whole world in his hands?

My answers must have been less than inspiring, for he soon changed to an all-too-familiar line of questioning, a line that he knows I have answered definitively multiple times in the past, to wit, inquiries into measurements of water depth. This fascination for him may stem from the time he swam into deep water in a Far North Queensland pool without realizing it, and had to be rescued, I am not sure.  But since then he has quizzed me endlessly about water measurement. 

"Can I stand in ten inches? If so, where will ten inches reach on my body?  My ankles, my knees, my stomach, my elbows, my chin?  And can I stand in three feet?  Yes?  Well, then why can't I stand in two meters?  Okay, then, can I stand in one meter?  Yes?  Can Sophie?  What about Cameron?  Or Katie and Daddy?  I think Daddy can stand in three meters.  Are you sure he can't?  Well, what about ten inches then?"  And so we are back to where we started, and the cycle can begin again!

Whew.  For reasons other than the rain, we half jogged the distance remaining to our house, which, fortunately was mostly down hill.  Neatly negating any health benefits from our walk, I promptly made hot chocolate and heated up some buttery raspberry chocolate chip muffins.  Naturally this was very necessary after arriving home wet and cold.  And I will have you know, that just this very moment, as I sat down at the computer to fine tune this post, James crawled onto my lap and wanted to know, "If I start with four inches of water, and then add five more, would I still be able to stand?  Would it come up to my chin?"  And, also, "If God can do anything, can He walk slow and fast at the same time?"  Please excuse me while I attempt to go and hide for a while.

(Katie says this post needs some pictures, so here are yet more flower pictures.  Whenever it is not raining, I can often be found in our front garden attempting to put into practice what I am struggling to learn from my rather dense photography manual.  At this point, I think it very unlikely that I will ever become smarter than my camera's automatic settings, but it is fun to try.)

p.s.  An update on Sophie's friend Hannah can be found here.

 

Conversations with My (Almost) Five-Year-Old

Lately, each day has begun with one important question for J.  He wants to know, immediately upon waking up, if he is five yet.  This all-consuming passion for his birthday to arrive is not all that uncommon for a four-year-old, but he happens to combine it with an obsession for numbers.  This means that after he absorbs the deep disappointment of still being four, he moves on to how many sleeps remain until the big day (There are still twenty-eight sleeps left?  Is twenty eight a smaller number than thirty?  What about thirty-one?  Is that a bigger number?  Forty-one is bigger than forty, isn't it?  That means Daddy is older than you are!). 

You can believe me when I tell you that the term obsession is not too strong a term for a topic that, based on seemingly endless discussions with him over the past few days, occupies the majority of his waking hours.  We are not allowed to forget it, as he prefers a full response to not only all of his questions, but also to every single one of his statements concerning quantities (Octillion is a number, Mom, and so is a drillion).

A few days ago I came across one of those packets of flashcards that are designed to make parents think their kids will love them and through using them become math geniuses.  My older three have consistently and uniformly despised all flashcards, no matter how colorful and well designed, and therefore every packet that remains in our possession looks brand new.  James might be different, I considered, and for once, I was right on the money.  The flashcards have become his beloved companion on all of our car journeys for the past week.  After he has temporarily exhausted all questions along the lines of, say, "Will I live to be one hundred and a half?" and "If you started counting to one billion right now, would you die before you finished?" and "Will I always be the youngest in our family?" he starts in on the flashcards.  My relief is, alas, short-lived, as this means a whole new series of questions is about to begin.

Assuming that I have eyes in the back of my head, he cannot understand why I am unable to read the math problems for him while I am driving. "Is this one adding or taking away?"  "If you start with eight ice creams, and take away seven, what do you get?" Is this one eight plus four more, or four plus eight more?  Why are they both twelve?  How many is seven take away seven?  Zero?  Yes! (accompanied by his fist pumping the air ahead of him).  Zero is his favorite number right now.

We went through a brief period of thinking that perhaps the flashcards were in fact making a math genius out of him as he seemed to always have the right answer.  His older sister was a bit alarmed that she was being passed up in her adding and subtracting ability until she discovered that either (1) he was taking a peek at the answer first before tackling the problem, or (2) he came across one of the ones he memorized in one of their many "let's play school" sessions at home.

After about fifteen minutes of non-stop math drill questions in the car yesterday afternoon, my mind had wandered far, far away.  Frustrated with my lack of responses and about to give up, James decided to imagine different pictures on his flash card.  "What about cappuccinos, Mom?  What if you started with three and added two more, would that be five?"  No, James, that would not be five.  That would be bliss!

And here is the junior mathematician enjoying his very own "baby cino" and homemade chocolate chip muffin for morning tea earlier today.

 

Chilly August Weekend

The first thing that comes to mind about our first full weekend back in Melbourne is that it has been cold.  The mercury dipped to 3 degrees Celsius on Friday and Saturday, eliciting, I am afraid, complaints from our older three children about the temperature in the house.  Our heating system can't quite keep up when it gets close to freezing, and the thermometer indoors hovered around 14 C (about 57 F).  This could well be considered quite toasty for many down under during the winter, but coming from five weeks of heat and humidity, we have found it to be a bit of a shock to our systems.  Katie has even used the word "desperate" when trying to convince us to do something about it.  I might have felt more sympathy had I not just finished reading about the famine in Somalia. Instead, I pointed her to her younger brother James, who was quietly rugging up in the corner.

Cold it may be, but there are still many blossoms to be enjoyed, some so fragrant that it doesn't seem quite right for winter.   Ross and I took a walk on Saturday in search of some of the prettier ones.

In other news, on Saturday night Katie had the unique opportunity of attending a bush dance hosted by Presbyterian Youth Victoria at the church where she attends youth group from time to time.  Hundreds of high school age students from all over Victoria congregated to participate in what, as far as I can tell, is similar to line dancing.  The students were first taught the steps involved in each of seven different dances, and then had the opportunity to try them out.  Katie danced in five of them and had a wonderful time.

Plaid shirts, jeans, cowboy boots, and bush hats were the predominant types of clothing worn, making Katie think of her of native state of Texas.  Midway through the evening the students listened to a speaker, had supper, and then resumed dancing.  Hay covered the floors, and there was food in abundance, including party pies, potato chips, lamingtons, marshmellows, sausage rolls, and fresh vegetables.  A cotton candy machine and a snow cone machine added further opportunities for sugar consumption. 

I honored her wishes and didn't bring along a camera to the event, although I regret that now.  I did take some pictures, however, before she left.

 

What a Difference a Year Makes

It is Thursday morning, and James and I have just returned from a two hour walk in which we visited the library, the post office, the bagel shop, the grocery store, and a stationery store, accomplishing numerous errands while also getting some much-needed exercise after our five week holiday.  I could not help but contemplate as we walked along how different this August is to last year's.  It is true that some of the excitment of a new place has worn off.  We are no longer in that much-described honeymoon stage of the recently transplanted.  I would argue, however, that we are far better off than we were twelve short months ago.  The remainder of this post I will dedicate to describing some of the reasons why I believe this to be true.

For starters, instead of a distressed three-year-old begging us hourly to return to Pittsburgh, we are delighting in a happy four-year-old who was so excited to return to kinder that he was dressed and ready to go by 3am on Monday morning. True enough, I wasn't delighting in his wakeful state at 3am, but thankfully I was able to bury my head under the pillows and go back to sleep while he raced around the house.

James is not the only happy being around here.  For the past six days I have been walking around with a silly grin plastered on my face, which is not, unfortunately, my default expression.  The smile became especially big on Sunday morning as we greeted friends who genuinely, (inexplicably?) seemed to have missed us and were glad to have us back. 

This happy face, I would argue, is far preferable to the rather bewildered ones we must have worn for much of our first few months.  Instead of continually having to repeat ourselves and ask for clarification, we can take pleasure in the little linguistic differences that add spice to daily life.  I realized, for example, that I had missed the adjective "shocking" during our five week holiday.  I hastily scribbled down a couple of the uses I heard shortly after our return:  "That hall is a shocking venue for musical concerts" (i.e. the acoustics are terrible).  "I have had a shocking week" (hectic and busy).  I might add that I found the parking fees at the Melbourne airport rather shocking in comparison to those in Cleveland and Pittsburgh:  $20 for the former versus $1 for the latter two.

Driving is no longer the terrifying venture it was for me twelve months ago, in spite of one nightmare I had this week that involved our car hurtling down the wrong side of the freeway. Driving on the left side has not posed any real-life difficulties thus far, but I was back in North America long enough to get used to the reversed positions for the turn signals and the wipers. Since the daily commute to the girls school involves approximately fifty turns, this means I mistakenly turn on my wipers an average of twenty-five times or so per trip.  It almost makes me wish it would rain more often.

Ross mentioned how helpful it is to have the children settled in their respective schools rather than facing the daunting prospect of sorting out four children.  Two of them had to be gently coaxed out the door the first two days, but they all ended the week on a happy note and appear to have settled back in quite well.

While I have not exactly mastered the art of texting, it is no longer the completely-unfamiliar territory for me it was twelve months ago.  It appears to be the primary form of communication in Melbourne, and so the first thing I did after landing was text one of the friends I now have in my contacts list down here.  It was fun to receive an immediate reply.

We have jumped right back in to enjoying the foods we missed during our five weeks away.  James asked first thing for a bowl of Nutri-grain (a horrible, sugary cereal that he loves), while my first choice was passion fruit yogurt.  James and I also enjoyed Yumi's Middle Eastern Hommus for lunch every single day this week:  with bagels, crackers, freshly cut vegetables, bread, and just about anything we could find to spread it on.

I'll end with the privilege that we enjoyed of having Gillian accompany us on our long trip back from the U.S.  I was decidedly not looking forward to traveling alone with the four children, and so was thrilled when she agreed to help us out in this way.  She entertained the older three and put out some of the sparks that may have developed into full-blown sibling arguments, leaving me free to concentrate on keeping a four-year-old reasonably quiet on the long flights.  For this, for all I mentioned earlier, and for much more, we are truly grateful.

My Trip To North America by Cameron

First we landed in Cleveland, Ohio and stayed in our grandpa and grandma's house.   From there we went to Ottawa, the capital of Canada, on the Fourth of July.  This is the American Independence day.

In Ottawa, we spent some time looking at the locks on the Rideau Canal.  This canal connects the city of Ottawa on the Ottawa River with Kingston, Ontario, on Lake Ontario.  The locks allow the boats to slowly go down to a lower level.

Here is a picture I took of my dad on Parliament Hill.  This is where the government of Canada is located.

The picture above I took in a candy store that sells everything, even vanilla flavored grasshoppers, meal worms, lollypop scorpions, and chocolate covered ants.

From Ottawa we went to our house in Pittsburgh for two weeks. I visited all my friends in that part of the trip.

We also went to Idlewild, a middle- sized amusement park.  My favorite thing there was the roller coaster.

 

When we were in Pittsburgh, I had three sleep overs in two weeks.  All of them were at other peoples' houses.    Then we went to our grandpa and grandma's house in Akron, Ohio.

I think my grandma is just about the best cook ever.  My favorite meals that she makes are enchiladas and spaghetti pie.  For a lot of the meals we had corn on the cob.  She also made us a Candyland cake to celebrate all of our birthdays.  We loved it.

My grandpa grilled hamburgers for us one night.

We play a lot of games with Grandma and Oma, including Uno, Skip Bo, Upwards, Uno Jango, Boggle, Candyland, a candy matching game, Banana-grams, Racko, and the game of Niney-nine.

After two weeks in Ohio, we went to our oma's house on a lake in the state of Michigan.

I love to fish there. We also go tubing which is riding an inflated tube attached to a boat while the boat pulls you in the tube really fast.  The game is to try to jerk us off the tube.  

We swam a lot in the lake as well because it was really hot.

After Michigan we went back to our grandpa and grandma's house. We went to Amish country which is a place were they try to serve God by not using modern things and by dressing in colonial clothes.  They ride in buggies instead of cars and plow their fields with horses instead of tractors. They do not use electricity at all.  They wear dresses and petticoats and suits.

 The next day we took the long flight to Los Angeles, then Sydney, and then to Melbourne. It was a good trip, and I will miss America.