Gidday

The day has arrived. We are New Zealand bound.

We had friends over last night and I drank too much. My head hurts this morning.

As predicted, we made one last trip to the orthodontist but at least it was yesterday afternoon during rush hour and not this morning. I don't think Olivia likes me much anymore. Her new upper appliance has left her without the ability to place her tongue on the roof of her mouth. Things like swallowing and talking have become so much more challenging for her. She is not impressed.

The only thing left to do before skipping out the door is our morning hygiene. I'm putting on my prettiest knickers so that when I am plucked out of the security line up and asked to go through the porno screener, I'll be prepared. Or maybe I'll opt for the enhanced pat down instead since I'm feeling a bit frisky.

It's nearly one o'clock Wednesday morning in New Zealand right now. We arrive in Auckland on Thursday afternoon at 5:12 pm. I should probably try to sleep another hour or two, eh? It's going to be a LONG 30 plus hours.

Did I mention my head hurts?

I think it's time for coffee and that shower.
And maybe a cold glass of water with a couple of ibuprofen because it's here. The day is finally here.

Southern Hemisphere Bound

After work today, I am going to begin packing. I'm all atingle at the thought of breaking out my shorts and tees.

LIAR!

I will admit that I'm thrilled to be heading to summer but one glance at my pasty skin in the mirror this morning gave me serious pause. Cellulite looks especially ugly in white. Time to investigate self tanning products. I'm just worried that instead of appearing pleasantly sunkissed, I'll end up looking like someone who needs a liver transplant. No matter though, I've decided pumpkin is a pretty shade for my arse.

The next three days are going to be filled with all the minutae I should have handled weeks before now.

Like teacher gifts. What in the world do you get for them? What adequately expresses the gratitude you feel for their compassion and their seemingly infinite reserves of patience? Tequila? I bet there are a lot of educators out there who'd prefer a bottle to another bloody box of chocolates.

What about the bus driver? The same man chauffers both of my children safely to and from school every day. He has made it a point to know their names. He says, "Good morning" and means it. The trouble is, we don't know a thing about him beyond his name. You know what? I sometimes suck as a human being.

I have cat food and hearing aid batteries to buy and a trip survival kit to assemble for each of the children. I need a pedicure and Botox. I have Christmas cards to finish and mail. My roots are showing. I should probably clean the house (but I won't) and I need to lay my hands on the ten adapters I own but cannot seem to locate otherwise, we will be forced to (gasp) unplug. Can I tell you how frightened I am at the prospect traveling with my children for over thirty hours? But it will all be worth it, right?

Case and point: my most excellent, blow-soda-through-your-nose-funny, sister-in-law sent me a text last night which I received at 12:27am. It read:

OK. Hammered. Could you hurry up please. I need some one equally messy to get drunk with.

Note: It was 7:27pm in New Zealand when she sent this. I LOVE her even though she is slightly younger, has bigger boobs, fewer wrinkles and a drinking problem. I'm on my way Leisa.

It's going to be tough for me to blog for the next while but I'll try to at least update with a few bits and some pictures here and there. I hope all of you have a wonderful holiday whether you celebrate Christmas, Hannukah or Kwanzaa.

Catch you soon from Down Under.

Rangima'arie & aroha

(Picture care of Roblespepe, via Wikimedia Commons)

Murphy is not my friend

Murphy's Law is the rule, not the exception in my life.

Example #1:

In a mere four days, I will be boarding a plane with my family to head off to the land of the long white cloud, Aotearoa. There will be laughter, libations and for me, there will be work. Of course. For the last several weeks, I have carefully planned for this extended vacation. I've informed my clients, pushed to have meetings moved up and generally been doing everything in my power to ensure that I can have this time unencumbered with career obligations.

But it is not to be and that's ok because I understand that business moves on regardless of my scheduled holidays and having to complete some light follow up is a small price to pay to have the gift of working from home.

Example #2:

Remember the dog I told you about? Well, Dallas and I had to call the police over last week because it got so bad. The officer was a huge, hulking chunk of man who was surprisingly gentle in his conversation with us. He was quite willing to go knock on our neighbour's door but suggested it might be better received if we made that visit first before sending someone in uniform over. I despise confrontation. My husband avoids it like the plague, as well. We were both squeamish at the thought of having to confront these people about their dog. We were also resentful at having to go over there in the first place because it was our belief that they had to know there was a problem and were just choosing to ignore it.

Well yesterday, my landlady dropped by to pick up a package that had been shipped to our house instead of hers. We chat and she tells me that the people with the dog lost their four year old child last year. I cannot even imagine. It's my guess that the sound of their barking dog is easily muted by the deafening silence of a dead child's empty room. We will put up with the noise.

Finally, I have example #3 which hasn't happened yet:

I am pretty sure that first thing Tuesday morning, in the midst of harried, final packing preparations and before we leave for the airport, my daughter will be sitting in an orthodontist's chair requiring an adjustment to her upper appliance. We have been monitoring things for a couple of days now since it was installed but I just know, given the way my family rolls, that we will get one last opportunity to wish our orthodontist and his staff a Merry Christmas.

Mark. My. Words.

I'm Barking Mad

The people who live adjacent to our house have two dogs. One is a small, yippy breed that we only see once in a while. The other is a big, black lab. He appears to live outside.

He barks. Constantly. It's making us crazy.

I feel sorry for him because dogs are social creatures and that poor thing is outside all day long by himself. He's out at night, too, because we hear him. Barking.

It wouldn't be bad if he picked more opportune times to howl like a banshee but he seems to start at about 4:00pm and doesn't quit until after bedtime. Their backyard borders our kitchen, family room and unfortunately, our bedroom so a majority of the time, it feels like we have a barking dog in the house. It's awful.

We haven't made a visit over to the neighbour's house for a couple of reasons. First, we are new here and frankly, we didn't want to start off on the wrong foot with anyone. Second, we saw a "For Sale" sign in their yard, which made our hearts leap with hope. They would move and the problem would be solved, right? Unfortunately, no. We heard that the house has been for sale for a very long time with no bites.

I don't understand it, though. Why have a dog, especially one who has big exercise and social needs, if you don't love him enough to bring him inside and make him a part of the family? He's clearly an afterthought to them. It's sad.

So now, we are out of options. We are going to have to knock on their door and politely ask them to do something about the dog. I think I might take a plate of brownies with me. You know, "Hi. We're your new neighbours. Can you silence that infernal barking, please? Here, have some chocolate."

Accident Update

It just occurred to me that there might be a few of you out there wondering how things turned out for Olivia in regards to her surgery. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be deliberately mysterious.

Last Tuesday, we arrived at the hospital at 6:00am to a waiting room full of people who weren't well and those tasked with accompanying them to their outpatient surgeries. It wasn't a happy place.

Within the hour, Olivia had been processed through admissions and assigned a makeshift room in the back where we changed her into her hospital gown. The anaesthesiologist came in first to take a thorough history. He was fun, talked directly to Olivia and made every effort to explain the smallest details to her. He was masterful at managing her expectations so that her fear factor (and by extension, mine) was eliminated.

Next, Liv's nurse came in with whacks of paperwork designed to check and balance. For instance, one consent form described the surgery. After reading it, I said that I thought the description was wrong and we agreed to wait for the doctor to clarify before I signed it. Turns out, the description was for an entirely different procedure and the doctor seemed grateful we'd found the error.

Speaking of the doctor, he was wonderful. Being technologically savvy and keenly understanding a parent's anxiety, he had the presence of mind to photograph the inside of Olivia's hand before and after the nerve repair through a magnification loop. Thus, when we met with him in recovery, he was able to show us the extent of the damage and the repair. I know that may sound gross to some but for me, seeing a picture of Liv's nerve reattached and stripped of a neuroma that had formed, gave me enormous comfort. He was not able to save the artery, which apparently is not a big deal since the thumb has two other blood supplies. She wouldn't miss it. He also did some minor work to one of her tendons which was nicked in the accident.

Liv woke up and the last vestiges of fear that I harboured slipped away. We have commented time and time again that her handling of the trauma of the last couple of weeks has been amazing.

This Friday, she will have her cast removed and since dissolvable stitches were used, we probably won't have to see the doctor again. He told us before her surgery that by the time we boarded our plane for New Zealand, Olivia's accident would be nothing but a faded memory.

I believe him now.