Little Girl Woes

Yesterday, Liv came home a little bit down in the mouth and when I questioned her about it, she admitted that she was unhappy because the previous day, she'd had a problem with one of her friends.  

I should probably preface with some background information.  The friend in question is a child with a less than ideal home life.  Her parents split several years back after repeated episodes of domestic violence triggered by alcohol abuse.  Needless to say, her early, formative years were not ideal. 

The father is a bar manager at a local club.  He's a nice enough guy and clearly loves his daughter but he's a party dude and mostly absent.  The child worships him.

The mother, is a whole other piece of work.  She is the custodial parent but shockingly irresponsible.  A few weeks back, the child showed up at my house after school barefoot and in a spaghetti strapped summer shift.  It was 13 degrees C (approx 55 F).  I asked her where her shoes were and she said she didn't have any as they had been ruined at camp a few weeks earlier.  I asked about pants or jeans and she confessed that the single pair she owned hadn't yet been washed and they were filthy from camp.  I asked her what she wore on her feet to school and she admitted, she'd been going barefoot.  I was gutted.

(When all of the kids were away at camp, her suitcase was woefully inadequate.  She had a single pair of long pants, two t-shirts, no socks, flat "ballet" shoes, a pair of shorts that doubled as her bathing suit bottoms, flannel pj's and a singlet, which doubled as her bathing suit top.  Her shoes were encrusted with mud the first day and for the rest of camp, it was a real struggle to keep her dry and warm.  Other kids, including Olivia, lent her clothing.  It must have been embarrassing for her.)

I sent her upstair to Olivia's room to put on a long sleeved shirt, jeans, socks and a sweater.  Then, we went shopping. It wasn't some big charitable thing, either.  I just couldn't get past the fact that the child went to school, in the late fall, WITHOUT SHOES. What parent allows that?  

We made it an adventure and went down to our nearest Salvation Army store where both girls were given the opportunity to grab a few items so it wouldn't be weird.  I don't know why, but need seems to be soaked in shame and that's the last thing I wanted the child to feel.  

There just happened to be a pair of brand new runners in her size.  We got them, along with a pair of pants and a book for Liv.  Total cost: $8.50.  The girls were delighted.  I told her to keep the clothes she had on, as well, with the excuse that they didn't fit Olivia any more.  As we drove home, I seethed wondering how it was that both of her parents could afford to smoke and drink but couldn't shod the child for $4.00.  

After that, we began to see more and more of her.  Often, she would stay for dinner.  I spoke to her mother, once, and when asked what time the child needed to be home (on a school night), the reply I got was, "Whenever."  It is dark here by 5:30 pm and the woman refused to pick up her child stating that she "didn't have any gas" when the child called for a ride.  It's just a sad situation.

Lately, Liv and the girl have asked to head back to the school to meet up with two boys.  Olivia is ten, somewhat of a tomboy and still mostly little girl in her emotional intelligence.  The girl, is somewhat more advanced, harder and looking at boys in a different light.  She has already learned to objectify herself with her clothing choices, which is heartbreaking.  I was uneasy about the "playing with the boys" thing and put the kibosh on it when the girls asked again, earlier this week.  I tried to explain to Liv that I felt like it wasn't the best choice and she seemed....relieved. 

Well, the day before yesterday, they asked to go back to the school to meet up with the boys.  I said no, so they picked up the phone, instead.  At some point, I heard our front door open and close and later, I noticed Liv curled up in her TV corner reading a book.  Something was amiss but I let it be.

Last night, Olivia confessed that she and the girl had had a falling out over the boys the day before.  The girl "liked" one of the boys and had asked Liv to tell him.  Apparently, Olivia didn't do it the right way and the girl was embarrassed.  In any case, at school the following day, the girl was unkind.  Olivia found other friends to play with but since they had been spending so much time together, she felt the girl's absence.  She was angry and hurt and wanted to lash out.  I asked her to forgive and move on, in spite of her perceived injustice of it all.  I told her that we cannot control the behaviour of other people and that we can only control our reaction to it.  No matter who was right or wrong, I told her that real friendship is not hard work and that true friends are careful with each other's feelings.  I shared that I thought her time with the other girl might be over and that she should focus on new friendships. That seemed to settle Olivia's mind.

This morning, Olivia was still stinging a bit but she had a good attitude when she left for school.   Selfishly, I'm grateful that the relationship with her friend has cooled for now.  Even at this young age, you can predict the trajectory of that child's adolescent life and I think it's healthier for Liv to develop close friendships with some other girls too, so her influences are varied. 

Truthfully, I want my little girl to remain a little girl for just a bit longer.

A+ for Qantas

Yesterday, I was up well before the sun and to the airport for a 6:45am departure with Air New Zealand from Auckland to Melbourne, Australia.  We landed nearly four hours later to a chilly, overcast day.   I picked up my rental car and then in the throes of morning rush hour traffic, I made my way into the heart of the city.  I will be forever grateful that I've had seven months practice driving on the left side of the road because navigating that traffic was something again.

When I was in Vietnam a few years ago, I met several Aussies who hailed from Melbourne.  We'd see them in the hotel restaurant for breakfast every morning and over the course of five days, I heard wonderful things about their city so when I found myself at the car rental counter, GPS in hand, trying to decide how to kill some time, I remembered talk of how pretty the riverfront was.

It just so happened that the riverfront was a smorgasbord of shops and restaurants and I entertained myself quite nicely until my early afternoon meeting, which went really, really, well.

I flew out via Qantas around 5:30pm and that flight is what I wanted to talk about.  It was old school, in a good way.

The flight staff were professional and nice.  I say that because I fly a lot and there just isn't a ton of courtesy or pleasantries in coach these days.  When I fly business, I am treated differently, but economy is usually a whole other shitball experience.

The first thing I noticed was that each of us had a personalized entertainment unit built into the seat in front of us.  That is something I've come to expect in business or in long hauls across one of the big oceans but to get that perk on a three and a half hour flight was a complete surprise AND headphones were included. (It's the small things) The movie choices were current, too.  I watched "Mirror, Mirror" (not much brainpower required but Julia Roberts was excellent) and "We Bought a Zoo" (has to be one of Matt Damon's worst).

They fed us.  I had no idea that Qantas still did this so I hadn't pre ordered a gluten free meal and thought I'd be out of luck.  Not a chance.  They had an extra meal on hand to accommodate me.

They gave us alcohol with our meal.  There is nothing quite as delicious as a bottle of bubbles for which I didn't have to fork over $12.  It tasted better, being free and all.

They served us coffee or tea and ice cream for dessert and for the reminder of the flight, they came around with water to keep us hydrated.

The really weird thing is that the ticket price was competitive, less actually, than my morning flight on Air New Zealand.  As we disembarked at 11:00pm, I was a tired passenger, because the day had been exceptionally long but the Qantas leg of the trip was......

a pleasure.


I haven't felt that way about air travel since before 9/11.

In the future, with all things being equal, Qantas will, HANDS DOWN, get my business.  I hope they don't eventually cave into the nickel and dime, service-deficient wasteland of the competition.

Paddle Update

So.....

The first paddle practice was COLD. I came home with icy hands, freezing feet and blue lips.  Even after I'd emerged from a hot shower, my lips looked like they belonged to someone on a slab in the morgue.  It wasn't an especially good look for me.

The following morning, I was so sore, I could barely move.

The following evening, I paddled again.  It wasn't as cold but I do recall thinking somewhere during the 19 kms that were paddled, that I might vomit my spleen with the exertion.  My right arm, on the side, up high near the shoulder started to ache, deep inside the muscle.  It didn't take long for the bursitis to come back.

I missed Saturday's practice because it was a long weekend here and we went away with friends.

Last night, in the driving rain, with winds that kicked up to 16 knots, I attended practice, because, you know, I'm tough like that.  Actually, earlier in the day, I called our coach to see if the weather would cause us to cancel and she snorted.  Let me tell you something: these Island people are serious about their Waka Ama.  There are just no excuses.

I showed up, threw my paddle into the canoe and hoisted it down to the water with the rest of my team.  We paddled 15 kms last night.  I got soaked.  When we turned the canoe around a bridge pillar, in full race mode, it was my job in seat 5 to use my paddle to push water on the opposing side of the turn underneath the canoe.  In the pouring rain, against the wind and the current, with snot streaming from my nose (sorry for that but you get the picture), it was one of the hardest things that I've ever had to do.  As we got around, wind at our backs and current in our favour, the canoe lifted and flew across the water at a speed that infused my exhausted muscles with energy.  It just doesn't get any better than that.  It just doesn't.

When practice was over, we gently paddled up to the dock, which in full tide, was now submerged in water.  I jumped out, waist high and together with my mates, we shouldered our canoe and took her up to the saddle.  As I was driving home, wrapped in a towel and blasting the heater, it occurred to me that not once during the entire evening, did I wonder what the fuck I was doing out there under those conditions.

I think my transition to Kiwi might be nearly complete.

Thursday, I will miss practice because I'll be in Australia for the day on business.  I'd rather be paddling.  The good news is this Saturday, I am competing in my first race.  I'll be on the mixed novice team for a short 5km sprint. The weather is predicted to be miserable, with pretty serious wind and rain, not unlike the conditions last night.

I could care less.

I can't wait to get in that canoe.

Shut Up and Paddle

Yesterday afternoon, I had a wee epiphany.  I needed more exercise, I thought.  It would cure what ails me.

The trouble is, I can't seem to find a gym that I like that has the equipment AND the vibe necessary to stimulate repeat visits.  I know that this is a total cop out but it's how my mind works.  I really loathe the idea of mandatory exercise and thus, I am able to manufacture very elaborate excuses as to why my big, fat, arse is, well, BIG & FAT!

Together, Dallas and I have done the cost/benefit analysis of owning our own treadmill.  On the plus side: convenience and privacy, which is enormously important when one considers the freak show that is my chest in motion.  On the negative side: cost, maintenance, where the hell would we put the damn thing and the fact that my husband is already fond of using most furniture as his own personal clothing rack.

So, what's a girl to do?

Yesterday, I was going through my closet and found a long sleeved shirt from the San Diego Outrigger Canoe Club circa 1995.  Before children, peri-menopause and absurd cup sizes, I'd casually paddled for an outrigger canoe club in San Diego.  I loved it.  It was great exercise and got me out on the water, which is my most favourite place on earth. I wasn't a natural, though, as my upper body strength was lacking.  Eventually, probably because of poor form, I developed bursitis in my right shoulder, which made distance races particularly demanding.  Around the same time, I met the father of my children and unfortunately, I retired my paddle.

Tonight, I will attend a training session, in the dark, in 11 degree Celsius temps with one of the clubs local to me.  It's the first time in 17 years that I'll have a paddle back in my hands.

I'm all atingle with excitement.....and naked fear.

Keep you posted.

Hana ka hoe, pa'a ka waha
(Hawai'ian, not Maori but close cousins)

School Camp ROCKS

So much to talk about, so little time.

No, really.

I cannot seem to dislodge my head from my arse.  I am ridiculously busy with work these days.  I just don't understand why every now and again, things can't run just a bit more smoothly in my line of work.  Why does everything have to be a mini crisis?

The stress of it all makes my bed call to me like a siren in the middle of the afternoon with all it's warm Egyptian cotton and down filled goodness....

I digress.

I'm freezing, which doesn't help to quell the allure of my electric blanketed bed.  We are firmly in New Zealand's autumn which is a lot like dealing with a crazy person.  One minute the temperatures are up and the next, they are way down.  It can pour with rain, blast wind in a million directions and a present a blinding sun, all in a single afternoon. There is an art to layering clothing here.  I've learned all about thin, soft, merino wool undergarments, polyprop shirts and serious rain gear.  I am the proud owner of a pair of fire engine red gum boots.

Last week, I accompanied Olivia to her school camp southwest of Auckland in a town called Raglan.  Up to that point, the weather had been GORGEOUS.  We'd had five or six weeks with warm, sunny days.  People were so polite and considerate because that is what good weather does to the psyche.  Only once or twice did I feel the urge to drive into the back of the cars parked on the side of the road (topic for another post).  We were all basking in that fall wonderfulness until the morning that we left for camp. Then, the sky turned the colour of a bruise and for the entire length of time that we were at the camp, it rained, with brief intermittent moments of sun.

If we had been in America, the teachers would have had to scramble to move the activities inside.  Here in New Zealand, if you let the weather dictate your plans, you'd never get anything done.  Kiwi kids are a remarkably resilient, uncomplaining bunch.  There were twelve groups of 11 or 12 kids who cycled through 12 rotations of activities ranging from archery, a confidence course, low ropes and volleyball to a BMX bike ride, orienteering and the "flying fox". All of this was done outside.  A partner and I ran the "raft building" exercise whereby the kids were given long bamboo poles, 20kg plastic drums and ropes out of which they were to fashion a raft and float it across an outdoor, unheated, pool.  The weather ranged in temperature from 45 degrees F to 60 degrees F.  I dressed like this:

I wore gumboots from the time I rose in the morning until I climbed into my bunk at night.  I kicked myself for not remembering to bring gloves.

The reason that I tell you this is because most of the kids who came through our raft rotation, elected to strip down to their bathing suits, hop aboard their floating creations and try to get from one end of the pool to the other.  While I sipped hot tea from a Tim Horton's mug, they fell into the water, screeched, laughed and hopped back up. When the girls in my cabin filed in after their outdoor activity-filled days, covered in mud and soaked through, they stripped off their clothes, shoved them into plastic bags and got into hot showers.  There were very few complaints.  I was so impressed.  I couldn't wear enough layers and I watched from the cocoon of my sleeping blanket as the children got up at the ass crack of dawn and ran out the door to the gym to exercise in their jammies and slippers.  School camp in New Zealand is character building.  I loved it and hated it at the same time but one thing is for sure: I'm awfully grateful that my kids got to experience it.

Next year, Dylan doesn't have a camp, which really makes me sad.  and Liv's year seven trip is this great adventure on the Hauraki Gulf Island of Motutapu.

I fervently hope that I'm one of the parents that gets picked to go.