If there is one memory that will stand out to me in future years from our time living in Australia, I suspect it could well be the beauty of the carols concerts we have attended in the weeks leading up to Christmas. Whether it is sitting in the gorgeous pews of Scots Church in the heart of Melbourne’s CBD, the unforgiving wooden pews of the Memorial Chapel at Cameron’s school, the more casual atmosphere of the playground at our younger son’s school, or the pews of our local church, we have thrilled at each opportunity to both listen and participate in this uniquely Australian Christmas custom.
One evening this week I headed into the city with a couple of fellow photography enthusiasts. I have never before tried to photograph Melbourne in the evening--and what a mistake that has been. At times the harsh summer light made things tricky, but as the sun made its way to the horizon, it did its magic. I hope you enjoy this picture post of Melbourne in the evening.
Recently I had some fun coming up with a top ten list for Melbourne. The impetus came from a contest over at Expats Blog. I began with a list of the best "off-the-beaten track" places to visit, but eventually settled on tips for understanding and making the most of a city that our family has come to love. With some help along the way---including ideas from my fitness group, writing class, neighbors, and church friends--I composed, recompsed, and made the final selections. My list includes points such as
*Jacket On/Jacket Off
*Wear Black to Blend In
*It's All About the Footy
... and many more. To read the final article, head on over to the following link:
If you feel inspired, you can help me out by leaving a comment before December 19. The moderators at Expats Blog have said that comments need to be at least ten words to be published and to count toward my total. There are several ways to win this contest, including first, second, and third prizes for each country. This year Australia has only two entries as far as I can tell, so that won't be too difficult. However the country with the most reader comments overall wins Amazon gift vouchers. That's a long shot since there are only two entries to gain these comments, but the other entry for Australia is a good one, so feel free to vote for that one as well! The moderators will also be voting on their favorite reader comment.
There are opportunities to share links and to 'like' the articles on facebook and through tweets, and these options will result in prizes too. I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with social media, but it seems to be a necessary part in the life of a would-be writer in the 21st Century, unless you happen to be famous already of course.
This seems like a lot to ask, but many of you have said you would be willing to support me. I will be most grateful for those who do so.
Best wishes to my readers for a happy Christmas and New Year.
Christie
p.s. For those who have already commented at Expats Blog, the good news is that your comments have helped to increase my blog readership, and have put me within the minimum range of monthly hits that I need to be considered by at least one independent publisher. The bad news is that the rules have changed for 2013, and those comments will not count toward me winning first, second or third prize for this year. Had I known the rules would change, I wouldn't have asked you to comment earlier, but I did appreciate reading them more than you will know, and please don't feel you need to comment a second time.
Last night the tooth fairy forgot to visit our house. Again. I ran up the stairs while the disappointed youngest member of our family was eating breakfast and hastily hid three gold coins under his pillow. As I re-entered the kitchen, I told him, "I think I just heard some noise upstairs. You had better go and check under your pillow."
He did as I suggested, and came back absolutely thrilled with his take-away earnings. Later in the day he told me, "I can't believe the tooth fairy came while I was eating breakfast!"
As I sent my ten-year-old ahead of me up the steep, vertical ladder, I had one of those parenting moments. "I must be nuts. What was I thinking?" Behind me waited my two older children. I wasn't worried about the eldest, but our second-born was well known in our family for his fear of heights. Directly beneath us lay the swirling waters of Sydney Harbor. I estimated our current height to be about 150 feet above the water. The nearby guide confirmed that this was correct.
"You are about one-third of the way to the top," he told us. The ten-year-old disappeared from my sight. I fought the powerful impulse follow right behind her, and guessing my thoughts, the guide held me back. "One at a time on the ladders" he reminded me.
Our oldest child turns fifteen today, and I have spent the last twenty-four hours doing what I suspect many mothers do on birthdays: I have been remembering the story of her birth. I looked at her this morning and marveled. On the brink of womanhood, she stands at the same height as I do. For the first ten or so years of her life, I didn't really appreciate the 'time passes so quickly when they are little' phrase that was often offered to me as a caution. Time passed slowly in those days of multiple young children underfoot, temper tantrums, runny noses and constant interruptions. That has all changed. Now Ross and I want to slow down the clock a little. He left home at eighteen, never to fully return. We certainly aren't ready to face that prospect in three short years.
There is a very excited seven-year-old living in our house. On Friday he became the proud owner of a cornet, something he has been waiting for "for at least ten years," he first claimed. Then he amended this slightly to "six years," followed by "basically my entire life." As we drove home from his very first lesson, he repeated "I am delighted, just delighted," over and over again. I couldn't help but smile to myself. And then to wonder exactly what we had gotten ourselves in for over the next few years.
My older children wondered the same thing that afternoon and throughout the evening as we were treated to multiple practice sessions from the would-be trumpet player. The cornet is most definitely not a quiet instrument. When one of the kids asked me, "What have you done???" I had to confess that I was wondering the same thing. Then I suggested that perhaps we should consider a sound-proof room in our next house. Ross was all for it by the time the cornet had been put to rest for the night.
That our younger son would so desperately want to play the trumpet is not all that surprising. For one thing, one of his heroes is a trumpet player. For another, he has watched his siblings take up various instruments over the past two years, and he has been to numerous concerts they have played in. We have been amazed by his absorption in what often prove to be very long evenings (last night Ross and I attended what was billed as a short, informal flute concert. It lasted nearly 90 minutes).
First lesson
I probably would have put our youngest off a bit longer from starting his musical journey, but he was aided and abetted by our kind and generous friends Ken and Trinette. Both professional musicians themselves, Ken and Trinette have taken a deep interest in the musical lives of the young people at our church. They have organized a band for the kids who are studying musical instruments to play in, going so far as to get specific music arranged according to ability levels, to offer lessons, to conduct, and to play alongside our children. The amount of time and effort they have poured into these young musicians goes far beyond the ordinary, and is something for which we are truly grateful.
So when Trinette began mentioning every week that it was time to start thinking about the trumpet, I could not ignore her. I suspect that she whispered in our son's ear from time to time as well, encouraging him to keep after us. Then when Ken offered his expertise to help us find the right instrument, it absolutely became an offer that we could not refuse.
That is the story of how we came to have a "delighted" son. To tell the truth, we are delighted as well, because for the first time in years, he has a focus beyond begging for more computer gaming time. Long may it last. His only grief is that he will not be here next year to play in the Carols Concerts that are a part of celebrating Christmas in Australia. For now, he has to be content with sitting behind his siblings and friends and pretending to play along with them as they rehearse. Someday soon, although not soon enough for his liking, he will truly join them.
This was the text I received at 12:38 this afternoon from our thirteen-year-old: "I have failed all my exams." That was it. No follow up explanation. When I rang his mobile number, it went directly to voicemail. I checked back throughout the day, but there were no responses to my follow up questions. I had phrased them carefully so as not to betray a sense of panic, but I didn't get any answers.
I knew that our son was getting his results back today at school after his first ever round of exam taking, but to be honest, I hadn't given much thought to his scores. I had witnessed him studying off and on the last few weeks. At least he appeared to be studying. He had his books spread across the dining room table along with a pile of notes that he had cobbled together from the dusty piles under his bed. Occasionally I would notice an ipod sticking out from underneath one of his textbooks, and I would scold him, but generally he seemed to be engaged with the material that needed to be reviewed.
I texted his father about the failed exams and got an immediate call back. I had to explain that I didn't have any further explanation. Then I phoned my parents, which I had been planning to do in any case, and drove them a bit crazy with my speculations. We did manage to discuss other things than what this kid was going to do with the rest of his life now that marine biology seemed to be out of the picture.
Finally, I emailed the form teacher, who tracked down our son for me, and by the end of the day, was able to assure me that he had not in fact failed all of his exams. She was pretty sure he even had a couple of good results. She sent a further email to explain that his phone was dead. Of course it was. He had just enough time to send that last disturbing text before it bit the dust.
As I waited for this child to get home from school, I thought about a texting incident from last week. This is what he texted before ignoring his phone for a couple of hours: 'I can't talk right now.' I assumed at the time that he was paying for the sushi that I had sent him out to buy, but when I hadn't heard anything more from him for an hour, I started to get really worried. 'Where are you?' I texted. No response. I rang him. No answer. I texted again. No response. I had visions of him tied up in the trunk of a car while the kidnapper devoured our sushi. Not only was I starting to get anxious, I was starving.
It turns out he was at the movies with a friend. By the time I had called his phone for the fifth time, he was the one who was annoyed. It was all a rather comic miscommunication. I thought the movie day was Friday, but it was really Thursday, and that led to an entire series of texts that were completely misunderstood by both of us (Actually, for the record, my texts were extremely clear, but it seems that Cameron never really read them. He was at the movies after all. And he did agree to go buy sushi for lunch, but he just texted 'ok' without bothering to read what he was agreeing to do.)
At least one of my friends has recommended texting as a good form of communication between parents and their teenagers. She prefers sending a quick text to her daughter to yelling up the stairway, and maintains that this form of communication eliminates the emotions that can quickly escalate in a face to face conversation. I am sure that this can be true. I am glad that texting works well for her, but so far I have to conclude that it hasn't been effective in our household. After today, I am ready to give up on it altogether.
Our oldest child is not much better. She does check her phone somewhat more regularly than her brother, but generally we only get one word responses. "Yes, no, ok and cool" are about the limit of her texting repetoire, at least when it comes to replying to dad and mom. I have a feeling that she is much more communicative to her friends.
I had no sooner concluded that in our family we had better stick with face-to-face conversations when the author of the 'failed all my exams' text walked through the door. It's a good thing that he has an infectious grin. It's also a very good thing that he invariably takes my side when I happen to be involved in family arguments. If Ross and I have a rare disagreement in front of the children, I can count on our older son to support me. And it goes without saying that he takes my side when either of the girls and I are having one of those all-too-common mother daughter spats.
Otherwise I would have throttled him as Ross suggested (via text of course) when he produced his stack of exam papers. There were no big red 'F's sprawled across the top, although one or two looked fairly dubious. Somehow he had managed to skip an entire, important section of a test, but that could be chalked up to inexperience.
'What were you thinking when you sent that text?' I asked. 'Mom, you took me far too literally,' he explained. 'I meant fail as in I didn't do as well as I hoped. I don't see why it was such a big deal.' I looked at him and agreed that I had worried far more than was necessary.
Then I resorted to that favorite comeback of nearly all parents everywhere, 'Just wait until you have kids of your own. Then you will understand.'
Recent Comments