Dancing Waters to the Tune of 'The Pink Panther'

What happens when shortly after dinner and your Monday TV fix you doze off and wake up just before midnight and realize you hadn't done the laundry you said you were gonna do so that your daughter doesn't have clean uniform the next day? You freak out, get up, reluctantly load the washing machine and potter around, desperately trying not to doze off again lest none of the clean washing gets dry in time for school. There are a million things I can do to keep myself awake while I wait for the laundry to finish. Although office work comes to mind, I find that blogging always does the job best. So here I am. However, I am a little stuck tonight. I don't quite know what to write about. Alas, the agitator of my brain is not rotating as fast as that of the washing machine. So I found myself looking for inspiration from my archive of photos and videos. I'm astonished to realize that I have not written any account of my trips since I left NZ almost two years ago. I've been interstate and overseas numeours times and none of these trips had been documented in this blog, thanks to Facebook. It's about time I do something about it. And while I'm at it, I might as well try uploading a video and see how that goes. So here is a film of when I watched the Fountains of Bellagio in Las Vegas, January 2008. I caught up with old friends - Shirley, Roy and Marie and their daughter Abby. Roy filmed this moment.

I'll be back for more travelogue.

Try and try until I find

I couldn't cope with the demand of fresh, clean sports uniform for Cerise, 3 consecutive days a week. Always going for the easy option, albeit more costly, I went shopping for an extra set of uniform. At the shop, little did I know that I was going to run into a "friendship opportunity" only to lose it in seconds.

As you know, I am in search for a friend. My last attempt a couple of weekends ago was at a Welcome Picnic at Cerise's school where I turned up an hour late, followed Cerise around because I couldn't make a connection with anyone, felt uneasy following my daughter around when the idea was to mingle with parents so I sneaked out and sat in the car for a good few minutes and then picked up Cerise and left. Mission abandoned.

Back to the shop... the lady who served me asked for my daughter's name and upon learning I was the mother of a child she knew, her face lit up and exuded with cheerfulness and delight that was heart warming.

Lady: Oh, Cerise! I know Cerise! (me giving back a pleasant smile) I am Emma's mother. How are you?

Me: Oh, I'm good. Thanks.

I know of Emma from Cerise's stories. Not that I remember details and that may not be a very nice thing to say but that's actually a positive thing, considering I only remember details of kids who aren't too nice to Cerise. Anyhow, in that split second I got excited at the thought that this encounter might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. I wasn't going to let this chance pass so I said in a matter-of-fact tone, "I know Emma!". Alas, the reply ruined the moment when the lady turned to me, wide eyed, chin up and spoke with a tinge of arrogance, "Oh, EV-erybody knows Emma!" That's with a stress on the 'ev' of 'everybody'. I didn't see that coming. I bit my lip, lest I said something sarcastic. Instead, I nodded, forced a smile and walked away.

So you think you can dance?

Life may not be the party we hoped for,

but while we are here

we might as well dance.

Happy Easter!

Cerise had their Easter Hat Parade at school.

Daddy helped her make the hat while Mummy took some time off work to attend the event - division of labour.

the post with no name

48 of the 96 hours of Easter weekend have passed and yet I haven't done half of what I intended to do during the 4 day break. I did NOTHING yesterday except to sleep in, eat, watch TV, and stay up late. I was disappointed at myself for giving in to temptations of procrastination. Although I stopped myself from feeling guilty by reminding myself that I CAN have a break and SHOULD enjoy a sleep in whenever possible. But today, I slept in again! Now I'm annoyed at myself because two days in a row is just pushing it. What is wrong with me?! I can blame it on my iron deficiency but surely I can muster enough zest and passion for a new day to get up early and seize the day, right? But why do I find myself paralyzed at every waking moment? By the time I managed to drag myself out of bed and into the shower and out the door, it was 1pm. The family went to Powerhouse Museum mainly to see the Diana exhibit. Later in the evening, we saw "Horton Hears a Who". It was a nice family day out.

I learned to play golf last weekend. There's not much to say about it except I found it nearly impossible to make that swing each time because of the overwhelming amount of information I had to process in my head within 3 seconds - my grip, my knuckles, my thumbs, my knees, my bottom, my shoulders, my elbows, the weight shift, my wrist, my eye on the ball, my eye on the target, the body twist... too much thinking made me froze. I think I had a couple of good shots and maybe there is potential there. So, I'll give it another go soon and decide from there if I should pursue this sport.

This week's Expo had me on my feet for 7 hours straight but even that didn't help me lose the excess fat I have noticeably gained in recent months. I'm told I certainly don't have weight issues but I reckon the photo gallery says otherwise. I did go back on the Orbitrek last Sunday. If only I could follow thru.

Question of the week: Am I able to give up coffee or at least consume less of it?

Love Notes

Our morning routine: Daddy gets up early, prepares Cerise's school lunch, gets ready for work and leaves. Half an hour later, or an hour later if sleeping in is more appealing, Mummy gets up and prepares breakfast then gets herself ready for work and Cerise for school. Most mornings, Daddy doesn't get to speak to Cerise except to give her a goodbye-have-a-good-day-see-you-later kiss.



Last Thursday morning, Cerise and I got up to find a note from Daddy. Referring to Cerise's Piano Theory workbook, he wrote...





I discussed the task at hand with Cerise, a little annoyed that she didn't complete all of her work the night before. She insisted that Daddy was wrong because while the piano teacher ear marked the right hand page of the book, he ticked only the left hand page which meant that she had to complete that page only. I believed her. She decided she was going to write back to Daddy. I didn't think much of that comment and went on to tackle the daily challenge of getting out of the house on time.



Arriving home that night, I found Cerise's reply to Dad's letter. It said....

It made me laugh so hard I had tears in my eyes. Cerise's letter spelt ATTITUDE! Firstly, addressing her Dad by his first name was rather hostile I thought. And the entire message was plain and simple sarcasm! I see myself in her a lot of the time it's scary.

Heartbroken, literally.

A recent echogram done on Edwin's heart revealed that his heart is weak due to some muscles at the base and back wall dying at the time of the heart attack three months ago. Not the news I was expecting to hear. The way I saw it, his heart had a blockage. They unblocked it and put stents in it to prevent it from blocking again. Surely, his heart would have gone back to its normal state. Simple. But it isn't so. The cardiologist likened it to a car with 6 cylinders. Edwin's got 4 left but the heart is still working. "But it's not that bad", he went on saying. "Edwin can still do pretty much everything except perhaps run up and down the hill. Not much you can do about it but the medication and diet should help. I'll see you in 6 months time for another echogram." I must admit, I resented the doctor for these findings. It wasn't his fault but I resented him anyway. Maybe it wasn't so much for what he said but how he said it. I thought he broke the news to us rather casually and seemed to have treated the situation so lightly when he could have been more compassionate and sympathetic. I fired questions at him , minding my manners, but deep inside I was screaming at him saying "This may be an everyday thing for you to say to countless patients but it certainly isn't an everyday thing for me to hear about my husband so perhaps you can be a little more sensitive than that!" Well, actually, he wasn't that bad. I guess I was just vulnerable then. Edwin and I left and went our separate ways to attend to what suddenly became insignificant at that moment in time, our jobs. Work that day presented unnecessary stress, the last thing I needed while I processed the news that saddened and angered me. I lost it that day. In any case, the job that I expected to get done, got done, my way. I wish it was the same for the state of Edwin's health.

An appointment with our GP a few days later helped me to be more accepting of the situation. She was, thankfully, more detailed in her explanation; was more open to all questions; she paced the conversation at a speed where Edwin and I could digest all information; and she put things into perspective. If I remember right, I think she said that it takes 3 hours from the start of the attack for the heart muscles to start dying. And once the heart muscles are dead, that's it, they can't regenerate. Unfortunately for Edwin, his heart attack didn't present the easily recognizable symptoms like chest pains and shortness of breath. Looking back, we now realize that his heart had struggled for days, from Tuesday when I first noted he looked unusually exhausted to Thursday when he first felt the heaviness in his left arm for 15 minutes to Saturday when that feeling of heaviness came back and progressed into cold sweat and chest pains until the stent procedure. For every new information our GP gave us, I threw back a million questions, which she patiently answered. Bless her. She must have seen how I desperately needed the logic behind it all in order to cope. In the end, she had to use the it-could-have-been-worse line which, for two seconds, I thought was inappropriate but it had to be said because nothing was going to stop my line of questioning.

Whether I'm coping well or not is another story. I'd like to think I'm okay with it and I say I'm okay with it and I know I can be and will be okay with it but in truth, I am tensed and furious and immobilized and disorganized and agitated and troubled and sad and I am so needing order, a laugh, a break, a run, a clutter-free apartment, an idle moment, an idle mind, a life.

Blue

It just dawned on me today that I don't have friends here in Australia. What a depressing realization! I figured this could very well be one of the reasons why I've been so stressed and uptight in the last... 20 months! Sure I have Edwin and Cerise and they're my world, my life. Sure I have work but that's work. Sure there's the lot of Filipino family friends. But I haven't been getting my dose of girl talk when you just gossip and giggle and vent and chat about the highlights of the day or of the month or the challenges of parenthood, marriage, work, life in general; no girls day out; no brunches or coffee; no shopping trips or day at the spa; no one to compare fashion statement with; no mother-friend to go to parks with; no "partners in crime"; no one to team up with me in getting fit and healthy or getting on top of my finances or in pursuing to be better at parenting; no sense of sisterhood and girl power going on; no baby-sitting; no phone calls about trivial matters that last for ages. I have not made conversations with any of the tenants in my buildings or any of the mothers at Cerise's school. I don't know anyone in my own suburb. I have not entertained in my apartment except for maybe two occasions. The move to Australia had stripped me of the kind of fun that one only gets in the company of girlfriends! It is quite sad. Maybe this is what Sydney does to you. It isolates you. Or maybe I foolishly let work take over my life... maybe it's just that time of the month... maybe I'm watching too much of Cashmere Mafia... or maybe I simply have to get around catching up with Laura.
:-(

The Voice of Conscience

9pm. Cerise's bed time. She had been instructed to go to sleep. A few minutes later, an upset Cerise comes out of the bedroom. My first thought was that she was stalling... again... and I expected her to ask either Daddy or me to be by her side until she fell asleep.
MUMMY: What's the matter? Why are you crying?
CERISE: My mind is telling me I told lies! (crying even louder)
MUMMY: (confused) What?
CERISE: I can't sleep because my mind is telling me I told lies.
MUMMY: What do you mean? (amazed at how she's come up with a new smart excuse of not going to bed)
CERISE: I don't know. I just... I can't sleep because my mind keeps telling me I told lies.
MUMMY: (intrigued by this unprompted manifestation of guilt and conscience by a 7 year old) Oh. Okay. Well, did you?
CERISE: Yes! (unable to control her tears)
MUMMY: Well, what is it then? Tell me.
CERISE: You promise you won't be angry?
MUMMY: Okay, I won't be angry.
CERISE: You promise you won't tell Daddy?
MUMMY: Okay, I won't tell Daddy. I promise.
CERISE: (hesitated)
MUMMY: Come on. Tell me. You know you should always tell me everything and never lie.
CERISE: I cut my hair with scissors! I'm sorry! (crying louder than ever)

.... Now there is a history I must tell you. Once when she was maybe 4 years old, she had played with some kids cutting her hair with a pair of scissors. She never told us until I noticed that her bangs or fringe were not straight. We confronted her and out came the truth. Mum and Dad were not at all happy and told her off. Obviously she never forgot.

Back to present... I started comforting her while she confessed the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I left it at that. And I thanked her for telling me the truth and how brave that was of her and that she must always remember it is important and better to tell the truth. The voice within stopped and Cerise had a good night sleep.

Of course I told Daddy! I always do! But warned him not to speak to her about it because I promised not to tell.

Two days later, the three of us were together and I told Cerise maybe it was time for her to tell Daddy what she told me. Panicked, she said she wasn't going to.

CERISE: No, I don't want to tell him! (started crying)
MUMMY: Don't worry. It'll be alright.
DADDY: What? What is it?
CERISE: (even more panicked) No! I am not telling him! No!
MUMMY: It's okay, Cerise. I'm here.
CERISE: But you promised me you wouldn't tell him!!!
MUMMY: Oh I know that. But I won't tell him. YOU will.
CERISE: (a moment of silence and then she murmured...) But I promised MYSELF I wasn't going to tell him so I'm not going to.

... and yet again, she stuns me with her points of argument.

Licence License

Passed my Hazard Perception Test today. Despite cramming for the exam. Reviewed for it just 7 hours before, while chatting with Kristy in the US - no sleep and powered only by coffee.. not even Flat White but just the household kind. My mind was also preoccupied with stress from work which was partly the reason why I couldn't sleep the night before. Even seconds before th exam, I was still thinking about yesterday's events - Edwin's appointment with the cardiologist and the panic attack at work brought upon by the slackness of someone I wish I didn't have to work with.... more on these later. Anyhow, congratulations to the new Graduate from Provisional Driver's Licence Class 1 and holder of Provisional Driver's Licence Class 2 which means I get to display a Green P plate in the front and rear of my car instead of the Red P plate . I can drive up to 100km/hr instead of being restricted to 90km/hr. I'm sure there are other "privileges" that come with P2 licence but this is as far as I'm concerned. Oh, and still must drive under zero alcohol influence. I get to hold this for 2 years before I can upgrade to a Full Licence. I realized this morning how complicated my pursuit for a Full Licence has been...
Rewind to 1999... obtained a Learner's licence in Australia. However I moved to NZ not long after so I had to obtain another Learner's Licence there. Eventually I got my Full Licence but not before 10 driving lessons worth NZ$400 and failing my first driving test, having absent-mindedly driven on the wrong side of the road. Fast forward to 2006, back in Australia. A failed attempt to acquire an Australian Full Licence because I hadn't held my NZ Full Licence long enough for me to qualify. Demotion. P1 licence. Just over a year on and I take an exam for P2 licence and passed. Whew! It turned out I really didn't need to review for it. I say it was my defensive driving course in NZ that really came in handy this morning. Do I take pride in holding this P2 licence? Maybe. But if I have to be honest, I'm just relieved I didn't need to take the exam again and pay another $35 or so.