Stop and smell the roses

Those of you who read my blog regularly will know that I am a market stall holder and sell my gorgeous handmade cards very cheaply here in Bris Vegas. There is never a weekend that goes by that I don't go home from our day at the markets, inspired and enthralled by chatting to the public for whatever reasons. I was engaged in two consecutive conversations at our last market day by customers who own parrots. Now I am meaning that one converstation happened straight after the other, with about a 15 minute gap and I am pretty sure that neither know eachother. I was fascinated as was my hubby.What are the chances?

I love nature very much and my Lady Lou Lettuce blog clearly confirms this fact. I don't think, however that I have ever taken enough time to learn about these amazing creations. I have a father who over the years has been a keen bird watcher and was often sighted with binoculars in hand gazing up at a gum tree observing the feathered creature of interest. I also, bought a rather expensive book on birds so that I too could start identifying various bird life which surrounded us as I lived across the road from a reserve. On a recent visit to our fabulous Lone Pine Bird and Koala Sanctuary I stood in wonderment gazing at the plethora of bird life on display and I guess in my case it is more the amazing colours that mother nature has bestowed on them that attracts me to these lovely creatures. However my parrot people taught me much about these amazing creatures that day and just how incredibly intelligent they are, how they do take on the role as a feathered human being when mixing with humans and I was in awe about my lessons that day and am truly appreciative of my newly acquired knowledge on parrot life.

On the same day, as I sat and crocheted my soon to be eco-friendly and very colourful shoulder bag, I realised my craft was being observed by a male bystander. On lifting my head, he stood there not a foot away from me and I smiled and said hi. He returned the favour and we commenced a conversation about the fine old craft of crochet informing me he was waiting for his partner to complete the fruit n veg purchasing across the path from me.  He explained to me how his grandmother used to crochet and how he used to admire her workmanship and I explained to him that it was my grandmother who indeed taught me to crochet. We then conversed about craft and how wonderful it is, he admired my handmade greeting cards, told me they were too cheap for the workmanship and advised me to increase the price. I thanked him for his advice and his compliments and then he parted as his partner approached having completed his purchases. It was a short but pleasant encounter and I appreciated his kind words and his story about his grandmother.

I cannot explain to you how my days at the markets inspires and motivates me and how much I appreciate human interaction. I guess being head down and bottom up for the week here in my work room allows me my personal and quiet time, especially being a busy mum of two teenagers and I do so appreciate my "time out" creating. Also, however, I very much look forward to my market day, conversing with those who are from all walks of life, who I can learn so much from and who make my heart sing with their compliments of appreciation for my card workmanship.

Life makes us all so focused on that 9 to 5 clock, paying that bill, worrying and wondering why your child isn't showing any interest in a subject or two at school and "oh what will become of them?" Chill girl, chill! Yes, crappy things will happen but these too shall pass and will be followed by laughter. I have learnt to let toxic words from others dissipate into nothingness as they own them and not me. There will always be clouds with silver linings. It is time to stop and listen and take time and worry a little less about those dirty dishes in the sink or getting that washing in off the line. I do very much love to stop and listen to the positivity of others about things like say parrots and grandmothers who were great at crocheting and oh how I appreciate it all.

Keeping up with the Joneses

I was privileged enough to be having a cup of coffee with some of my wonderful girlfriends the other day. I love to catch up with my BFFLs (best friends for life), and as the majority of females will agree, I honestly believe and so too will the world of psychology, that female interaction with females, strengthens the soul. Well it strengthens my soul anyway.

Women are experts at being able to chat about any topic and give wide and intelligent opinions about these matters. I have often, on occasion, sat down with a very direct opinion on life’s matters and come away from my BFFLs with a completely different attitude about that topic. The change in attitude I attribute to listening to various opinions and then being intelligent enough to heed these incredibly wise women thus analysing and accepting the contributions of their differing ideas and forming a sometimes different opinion from my learned colleagues….the most powerful people roaming this earth……females albeit mothers, wives or whatever!

Now my collection of girlfriends varies greatly in backgrounds and social status etc and I love them all. I however, and those who know me well, will know that snobs Ville and I don’t mix well at all….a bit like water and oil in a bottle. Regardless, I love to sit and listen and of course contribute with my verbal input and take home with me all I have heard (well if that is possible as retaining all of the information these women contribute in one coffee session would be a little impossible on some days as not even a court secretary be able to type fast enough, trying to record our chat). Regardless, it is great information which I hold very dearly as I do my girlfriends.

These female friendships have taught me much over the years, and will continue . I guess some think that I have had a slightly privileged upbringing having had private schooling but my parents have taught me through life, not by words but by actions, that life has its ups and downs, especially financially and I have never taken anything for granted, oh..........maybe those Barbie dolls over the years oh and OK, no doubt a few other things. Forgive me.

Having relatives who have been associated with ‘old money’ and have travelled much, no doubt spent much but who also have had very difficult times too, again, has taught me to never take anything for granted.

Sure I have owned a Mercedes Benz, eaten at The Ritz in London, have travelled a fair bit and live in a fabulous apartment but none of this has been dropped in my lap, so to speak. Having a nursing background exposed me at the tender age of eighteen to death and dying; I watched by first and only autopsy on this person at eighteen; I have given a colonic bowel wash to one of our leading neurosurgeon’s relatives and survived, both of us that is; I have watched my own flesh and blood at the age of two undergo live-saving surgery; I was to sit and watch, on an eight hour shift, a young man who was on suicide watch and who was simply needing to feel he belonged in our society; I was assigned, again at nineteen, to sit and encourage a group of adolescent females who suffered from anorexia nervosa to eat nutricious food during many of my nursing shifts;  I have been and still am privy to chats with girlfriends who have come asking me for advice on a plethora of serious life topics which still humbles me whenever this occurs; I have experienced quite a bit in life thus far.

I guess these things have really ‘grounded’ me and made me very aware that good things come and good things go yet can be obtained again and this is why when I hear of friends and acquaintances trying to keep up with the Joneses makes me squirm and protest a little.

I was chatting not so long ago by a parent who I had known for some time who informed me that they were off overseas skiing, had purchased their new luxury car, had enrolled their eldest at one of the elite male schools and were building a brand new and very large home. “Oh how wonderful” I remember exclaiming to her, most envious and wishing to be in that position. At that time I was a single parent, hadn’t been on a holiday with my beautiful children for quite some time and lived month to month hoping that that maintenance payment would be received but always in the back of my head knowing that if it didn’t, the house would have to be sold, the children taken out of private schooling and goodness knows where I would have to reside with my precious kids. As I stood there gazing at this lady and being quite envious of her conversation, it was in her next sentence that allowed me to regroup. “Oh, we are on final notice from our electricity supplier due to our failing to pay the past couple of bills, but hey, so what, we are going ahead with our plans regardless.”  Say what? Yep, it was all true and I stood in bewilderment about her ‘devil may care’ attitude.

To this day, I cannot tell you if all of this lady’s plans fell into place or if indeed she has electricity in her life. Is this the reason why Australia’s credit card debt is $50 billion dollars presently? How much of it is owed by her? I don’t know and quite frankly I do not want to know. All I know is that very very very little of it is owed by me . I still have the same credit card limit I had when I applied for it at the age of eighteen and that’s the truth. My attitude is if you don’t have the cash, don’t buy it. Okay, there are exceptions such as buying a house, car and any emergencies such as medical etc but hey boys and girls what is this world coming to?

I watch as my now adolescent teenager mixes in her university circle of friends, who are children of a large demographic of families. I listen to some of them chat about the latest mobile phones they have, whose parents drive what cars, where holidays are taken and what suburb they intend living in when they are all “degreed- up” and I love to hear it all. My teenager, who has been taught much by her frugal mother, but currently listens little, spending her plentiful supply and interestingly-sourced funds and watches me intently watching her acquire another designer good purchase whilst I shake my head in disbelief and disapproval.  This “Burberry-wearing, Givenchy-talking” adolescent knows that I have my proverbial tongue in my cheek as I nod at her saying “oh, fabulous.” Yes, she knows that “credit card city” is not the place where I want her living in the future but I can rest easy knowing that, as a student of law, and who is now eighteen and hence legal, she is responsible for her actions and thank goodness her bills, should she walk into 'that' city.

So I sit back and watch the next credit-card and money-crazy generation coming through, not all but many, and listen as some of my generation chat about the who’s who of Brisbane and who’s travelling to which exotic resort and how many pairs of Jimmy Choo shoes who has acquired over the last month on which credit card and I heed it all. In my eyes, the people who are so busy keeping up with the Joneses don’t realise that they are sitting with a member of that Jones family, sipping that cup of coffee and that would be me. No, I don’t have to have acquired the latest Mercedes Benz or the ten pairs of Jimmy Choo shoes to be a Jones family member, I just need to have the money in the bank to pay for that upcoming electricity bill and thank goodness I do, and it’s cash!

Mr Darcy, Mr Darcy!

I was delighted to see the other day on a TV advertisement that the movie Jane Eyre is about to be released at the cinemas. Ok, we have seen a plethora of Jane Eyre series on TV and at the cinema for many a year but what normal female can resist these fantastic classics. I know I can’t. Oh love…..you can’t beat it.

The idealism of love, ‘an emotion of strong affection and personal attachment’ is just too wonderful to live without. As you look back in time and see the plethorically abundant libraries of movies of these fabulous classics just makes my heart sing. To watch Colin Firth galloping over the heath on that horse in the role as the scrumptious Mr Darcy in the classic Pride and Prejudice makes my ovaries turn! What girl hasn’t dreamt of being Lizzie, waiting for the announcement by the maid of his arrival at her modest but love-filled home? Mr Darcy walking in, all six foot something of him (okay these height calculations may be wrong here but let me pretend), whilst he hesitantly asks for her hand in marry, but is rejected………what?........well he did say previously that she was ‘tolerable but not enough to tempt me’ which darling Lizzie overheard and let’s face it, wouldn’t we all be a little peeved off hearing this from a man of his stature. Oh don’t worry……he tries again later, just like this in fact…..

DARCY: You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged; but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.

ELIZABETH: Oh, Mr. Darcy. I... I...

DARCY: ...If your feelings are the same, just say so. I'll go away. You'll never see me again.

ELIZABETH: I... I...

DARCY: ...I have no right to expect anything but your censure. My behaviour has been abominable.

ELIZABETH: Mr. Darcy...

DARCY: ...Miss Elizabeth, you're so quiet.

ELIZABETH: Mr. Darcy, how can you even speak to me after the terrible things I said last April?

DARCY: How can I speak to you? But the only thing I want to do is to speak to you, Miss Elizabeth. Forever.

ELIZABETH: Mr. Darcy.. I... I...

DARCY: I've never stopped loving you, Elizabeth. But if you --

ELIZABETH: But the things I said to you, ...

DARCY: I deserved everything you said.

ELIZABETH: Not entirely. I was wrong about so many things.

DARCY: It all tortured me, for weeks and weeks. Not because it was hurtful, but because I eventually realized how true it was. I had been so, so...

ELIZABETH: My sentiments have changed, Mr. Darcy, so very much. In fact... I must say... I have to say... that I must receive with gratitude ...and pleasure... oh...

DARCY: Miss Elizabeth, are you trying to say...

ELIZABETH: Yes. ...Oh yes, Mr. Darcy.

DARCY: Oh Elizabeth, I can hardly believe it. Do you mean it?

ELIZABETH: Yes.

DARCY: I prayed and prayed for another chance to ask you.

ELIZABETH: When you left for London I thought I'd never see you again.

DARCY: You were so quiet at Longbourn. I was hoping you'd at least insult me, or admonish me, or anything at all. Any excuse to look into your eyes.

ELIZABETH: I was too embarrassed to speak.

DARCY: When I was in London two days ago I had almost resolved to come back and just ask you straight out. I was steeling myself for another humiliation. And then my aunt came to visit.

ELIZABETH: She did? Oh, Mr. Darcy, I was so horribly rude to her. She'll never forgive me.

DARCY: I don't care anymore. She told me all about her visit. It serves her right. She made me realize that there was still hope. How can I ever apologize for her behaviour?

ELIZABETH: She gave you hope? Oh, my. Perhaps we should be grateful to her.

DARCY: I must confess, my own feelings were similar to hers for such a long time, for most of my life in fact. That's how I was raised. But I never counted on meeting anyone like you.

ELIZABETH: Oh, Mr. Darcy.  (then we cut to)

DARCY: Oh, Lizzy. I must go to your father immediately. I can't wait.

LIZZY: Oh. Perhaps you should wait a day or so. My father may still be skeptical.

DARCY: As you wish. But I want you to come to Netherfield as soon as you can to dance that reel with me.

Oh, Lizzie, Lizzie you lucky girl!

For those of us who just can’t get enough of Mr Firth as Mr Darcy then here you are:   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y0dmzLkaQFE

Then there is Wuthering Heights where Catherine and Heathcliff go through torrid times to find that they love each other but this ends in tragedy.

What is it with the mental and sometimes physical cruelty that often comes with these unbelievable and overwhelming bonds of love in these classics? Mr Rochester and Jane certainly have a torrid time, Darcy and Lizzie go through their mental teasing, Heathcliff and Catherine have a cruel time, not so much with Little Women and their male suitors, …….it gets a little over the top sometimes however, I guess that is why Darcy and Lizzie have a big part of my heart, a little teasing but no real cruelty.

I am off now to put my DVD of Pride and Prejudice on, featuring the scrumptious Mr Firth and then follow it with a double dose of Colin's Bridget Jones’ Diary. Prejudice? Yes I am when it comes to Mr Firth, and I admit this with great pride!

Mothers and sons and girlfriends and growing pains

I have recently worked out just how incredibly lucky I have been in life with regards marriage or should I say the additions which accompany the husband in marriage. By this gibberish I mean I have avoided being landed with one of those dreaded negative mother-in-law the world talks about, those who are to be held accountable for the mother-in-law jokes scattered throughout the world! Unfortunately it appears to be the male's mother who seems to be the firelighter in these relationships. The repetitive story of ‘no girl will ever be good enough for my son’ type. Now don’t get me wrong, I know that some of those mothers-in-law out there are very well behaved. You will know who you are because your married children will tell you! However as we all know there are some shockers out there and if you don’t believe me, just watch Dr Phil on TV….he has some real doozies on the show.

History tells us that women are the nurturers, we bear and look after the children, we look after the home and the husband, and hold down a job along with hopefully sprinkling somewhere in there some “me” time. Clearly this woman is incredible. On the other hand, the male works. A slight imbalance in duties here but that is the way it is. He has been the major breadwinner in the family as history states, but times are certainly changing in that area as women seem to also be very decent pay packet earners.

I hear many of you guys blurting out what about the wife’s mother. Yeah, sure. That incredible person, a mother who has raised this woman and who has nurtured this woman into the wife that this guy now desires to live with for the rest of his life. So doesn’t that mean she has done something right? Look fellas as the saying goes, look at the wife’s mother and you will see what your wife will turn into. If you don’t like what you see…..don’t marry her daughter. Dah!

That mother-son bond is really something else. So why the power of the mother over the son? Well she is his nurturer through life. Beginning in early childhood, a very strong bond is established in which the mother becomes the little boy's object of tremendous feelings of love and affection. If dad is absent for whatever reason, maybe due to having an occupation which takes him away from his family for long hours or is simply absent, the mother is this boys constant. She is the light of his life, so to speak. He models his likes and dislikes on this woman. Later on, she becomes the model by which the young man chooses a girlfriend and eventually a wife. If you recall the song "I want to marry a girl, just like the girl, that married dear old Dad" there it is!

As these boys mature, mothers who are dependent on their boys for affection, support or love, believe they are exempt from the changes taking place in their sons. They are not. The love, companionship and closeness that formerly comforted both of them has now been tainted by the young man's sexuality. He now sees his mum as trying to control him and as being prying and invasive. What brings him peace is not her love, but distance from her. He will obtain that distance any way he can. That includes verbalizing the desire to go live with someone else. The mother is devastated and does everything to hold on to that source of love and affection. Cue the girlfriend, someone to look after him without the smothering and ‘no one will be good enough for my son’ attitude.

Female behaviour develops slightly differently. Distance is definitely sought to prove herself as a young women. However young women are those nurturers and future mothers and seem to latch on to this idealism pretty quickly in life and become less dependent on their mothers being far more willing to step out and nurture. Cue the boyfriend, someone to nurture and love.

To confirm this, in a fairly recent relationship poll, when females were asked why they marry, the major reason was ‘I fell in love.’ When males were polled the major reason was ‘to have someone to look after me.’ See it is true.

So as the mother of a daughter who will, maybe, one day marry, I am allowing myself to watch this exact thing happen to my daughter in front of my eyes. She wants to nurture and is able to do this with her boyfriend and boyfriends to come until she choses the 'one.' Her boyfriend is undergoing the above mentioned changes with his mother, replacing her, or at least starting the process in readiness for that day somewhere in his future when he will decide to replace her with the girl of his dreams whoever she may be. Life is fascinating…..it is inevitable.

Now I can hear some of those mothers of sons out there who will be upset and take this all too personally because they think that they are a potentially interfering mother-in-law, am I? Maybe you are already are? Here is some advice from all of those wives out there who are nurturing and loving your sons: Don't just volunteer your opinon in their lives....wait to be invited. We know most of you mean well but some of you just can't help but stick your nose in without invitation. Think before you speak.

Here is something I read recently in an article about a mother feeling left out…..”A wise friend once told me, many years ago, that to celebrate her own birthday she took presents to her mother as thanks for bringing her into the world, acknowledging all the hard work and dedication that it involves.” Oh, how lovely. I can’t see that happening to me and my eighteen year old offspring for a little while yet, however ‘this too shall pass.’

Calling the motley crew of year one, class of 1967 Mater Dei Brisbane.....is there anybody out there?

When my girlfriend from school, year one (1967 Mater Dei Primary School, Ashgrove, Brisbane, Australia) and who I have kept in touch with for all these years, recently suggested that “maybe the two of us should organise a year one class reunion?” I laughed, nearly hysterically, naturally. Let’s face it, where would we start? At first I could find all the excuses in the world until I thought of that amazing invention called the internet. [I was going to give you all a history lesson about where the internet all began like if I Google it and go on to Wiki, it states computers started around the 50’ and 60’s and then there is a whole lot of gibberish about NASA etc and quite frankly when I have one hundred greeting cards to hand-make by Friday, children to cure from the common cold and husbands (no make that just one husband) to help prepare for an away-conference, my time is of the essence so NASA and co’s involvement in the world of technology will have to wait for another day.]

I have pondered over the idea of this reunion knowing that it would be easier to achieve now than if we didn’t have computers and the internet, right? Well yes and no. My darling girlfriend has a hubby who knows the whereabouts of some of the boys which is great. I have Googled many names, searched Facebook and things are not as tricky as they would have been prior to the internet. I have managed to find one of our class members back then, the lovely Leesa who thankfully knows the whereabouts of some of the girls and so surely this should then lead to other leads which will lead to other leads ‘et cetera et cetera et cetera’ (Yul Brynner from the movie The Kind and I), so I think it should be OK.

Now I know that most of the girls will have changed their surnames, some will have left the city, state and even country so the idea seemed at first, that it would be an overwhelming and somewhat absurd task………..Now, I am not so sure. In fact, I am quite enjoying the challenge.

It is interesting how, after some forty plus years since having been with these little munchkins way back then and who are now fifty year old or thereabouts, I can still recall primary school day memories. The first man landing on the moon (1969) was a huge day and we were all carted off to various homes to watch this amazing event (I guess our school didn’t have any televisions back then…..I can’t remember.) Anyway, I was in the group invited to Paul’s house. He was and hopefully still is a lovely guy and was secretly in love with me at that time I think and oh what an amazing day that was and those astronauts. Procuring the lead role in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs was another memory. I, having white blonde hair in those days, had to wear a black bobbed wig and I remember I had to fall over (with grace and style of course) having bitten into that dreaded apple and whilst landing, my blonde hair escaped through the ‘cracks’ of the wig and the audience thought this was very funny, along with my probably not-so-graceful fall onto the stage. Another memory is as I recall one of the girls telling us that she “watched a movie from start to finish last night and she didn’t blink through the whole thing!” Yeah sure! Ah, what lovely and funny memories.

Reminiscing I think Gaye was the smartest girl in the class (though I think that will be contested at the reunion) and always had boxes of Twisties under her mum’s bed. It’s true. I would see them when we visited and yes she would give me some packets! Patrick was the smartest guy; Lou-ann had the longest and prettiest hair; Pammy had a fabulous giggle and smile (Pammy moved to Sydney.) First communion too was another important event (yes, it was a Catholic school) and I have a photo of us all 'dressed to the nines' in our white dresses and the boys looking very smart in their gear. I looked gorgeous I must say and that dress….wow! I think mum made it for me….it was stunning!

I am trying to envisage just what it will be like when we get this ‘motley crew’ together. I could only imagine the stories that will come out like who studied what where? Are there any neurosurgeons or astrophysicists in the group? Any Playboy Bunnies? Did anyone become famous or marry someone famous? How many Mercedes Benz’s will turn up in the car park (there will be at least one that I know of) and how many cheaper cars (that would be me and my little runabout, a replacement car having ‘lost’ my lovely Honda Accord in the recent floods.) How many married or not? Who married who? Who has a house in the south of France? How many of us are grandparents (me for one, ok a step grand-mum but that still counts.) Stop! I tell you, stop!….It will be fascinating, exciting and no doubt a little shocking too but oh how I am looking forward to this reunion now.

I can recall Maurice, Patrick, Paul, Paul, Gaye, Pamela, Brad, Lou-Ann, Alison, Joanne, Leanne, Sharon, Rosemary, Michelle, Debbie, Madonna, Mark, Mary, Mary and no doubt more will come to mind. I have in my hand the photo of our grade 3 with the teacher Mrs ? Vesna 1969 (pronounced Vayzna from memory) if that helps anyone out there and there are fifty-two of us in this photo. Yes, I remember Mrs V well. I had started to put curls on the end of my ‘s’s’ in my writing and Mrs V returned by work to me asking me if my ‘s’s’ had “been to the hairdresser?" Rude and uncalled for Mrs V! (So I found the straightening iron and stopped the curls!)

So back to reality and the quest of finding these classmates. If anyone knows anyone who attended Mater Dei Primary School, Ashgrove, Brisbane in 1967 as a year one student, please let them know that Louise and Louise are looking for them. They can place a comment below which would be great oh and no masqueraders please. Remember I have a photo and real names!

Now I am off to cure the common cold! Maybe this will be an easier task…I hope not.

Australian organ donation numbers on red alert again?

It is seventeen and a half years since the day I heard the words ‘your baby daughter will need a liver transplant.’ I had been watching her tiny tiny two month old jaundiced (yellow) body over the past few days endure two lumbar punctures and then a thoracentesis or pleural tap. This involves a doctor putting a needle in between human ribs and then into the lining of the lungs to extract unwanted fluid. In our case it happened to be blood, and by the way they drained 60mls from this precious creature’s lungs (her doctor was horrified.) Following this her tiny body had to endure an ERCP (endoscopic retrograde cholangiopancreatography) which confirmed that this little darling had a severe blockage in her common bile duct (a vessel which drains bile from the gallbladder to the intestine) and was suffering from a condition called biliary atresia….a gradual blockage in her common bile duct. Actually I must correct that name as it was actually confirmed by the intensive care staff that in her case she had gone one step further and now had biliary stenosis, the duct had already blocked and the bile was heading backwards into the liver causing major damage and had now lead to a cirrhosis of the liver, scarring and non-functioning of the liver. She was haemorrhaging internally, due to her liver not processing vitamin K which is needed for blood clotting and hence the pleural tap was required to drain the blood from her lungs to enable her to breathe properly. What was going on? I just didn’t understand and at that time, nor did the medical team. She was only brand new, my first born and this just couldn’t be happening. Next came a Kasai operation, she was only two months old. The Kasai operation attempts to reconstruct the bile duct with a loop of intestine. In the Kasai procedure the small intestine is attached to the liver directly so that the bile may drain. This was not successful and transplantation was now our only option. Let me tell you it was the most traumatic time of my life and even though I am a nurse, it scared the hell out of me because I knew what was to come with transplantation. I knew our lives were going to become even more traumatic and unpredictable, if that was possible and it was.

It had been some years earlier whilst doing my nursing training here in Brisbane at the fabulous Mater Misericordiae Hospital, and one evening whilst watching the local news, there in front of me was one of the first paediatric liver transplants. It was a medical and media frenzy. It was incredible. I watched in amazement as the surgical team chatted to the media, one of whom was to later be my darling's doctor here at the marvellous Royal Children’s Hospital, the great and renowned Professor Russell Strong. This is the man who introduced the ‘Brisbane technique’ of liver transplantation and which is now utilised all over the world. Sadly, it was brought to our attention days later through the media again, that the child did not survive. How were those parents coping having been given this amazing sign of hope with an organ donation and now a tragedy in the loss of this precious child? I couldn’t even try to comprehend their anguish. Years on, who could have believed that it would be me in their shoes, though with a far more positive outcome.

So, after consultations with our hepatologist and then cardiologists, gastroenterologists, anaesthetists, radiologists, nutritionists and the list goes on, our only child was cleared and ready for the transplant list. We were informed we would only need to wait six months and she would have her new liver. How wrong they were. With pager in hand (this would alert us if we were non-contactable by phone, that the hospital were trying to get in contact with us and to ring them urgently should it ‘go off’) we lived nearly ten months of hell, watching this child’s condition slip away and eventually I made my feelings clear to the team. We couldn’t wait any longer, their six months was now nearly ten months without any sign of transplant and my child needed help urgently. A week or so later we received that call and after a nine hour operation our gorgeous girl was in recovery, then intensive care and broke the ‘then’ hospital record for a mere ten day stay in hospital post-transplant. It was a miracle. We were so relieved and so proud of her.

On our return home I was to ensure her fourteen different types of medication were administered to her correctly. She was quarantined for about three months due to her lowered immune system. This lowered immune system was medically controlled with very regular blood tests to confirm proper drug levels and thus prevent organ rejection. This left her prone to more infections than others with little resource to fight these infections and so quarantine ensured her ‘clean’ living for the time being.

Her recovery was like clockwork. She ticked every box at every check-up and still does some sixteen years later. Yes she is on medication for the rest of her life but only one; yes she endures blood tests on a regular basis to make sure her liver is working well and that the medication levels are correct; yes she must be alcohol free for life to ensure proper functioning of the liver and prevent any type of damage and yes we are so proud of this amazing and beautiful young woman who is now at university studying Justice and soon to be Laws; yes she is being a typical eighteen year old, challenging but beautiful, healthy and very very loved by all of us including her wonderful sister.

I am sitting here with tears rolling down my eyes as I remember these days as if it was yesterday and when I see on last night’s news that organ donation numbers are diminishing again, I ask why? Is it because everyone needs to have walked in my shoes for the last eighteen years and see what these families go through watching their loved ones suffer and then die because we are too lazy to think about the importance of organ donation and just register online? I thought human nature was better than that and I know it is. The website states 5 760 987 Australians have already beaten you to it; please make sure you are the next one.

To register your wish to be a donor, log on to the below link for Australian residents. If you have problems with this link please go to the Medicare website and register. https://www2.medicareaustralia.gov.au/pext/registerAodr/Pages/DonorRegistration.jsp

The hardest job in the world? You better believe it!

I have been a parent for just eighteen years now. My parents did a magnificent job parenting me and my siblings. Are they constantly watching over my shoulder, observing?  Yes I guess they are sometimes and that is OK because I have no doubt I will be doing the same to my girls. To date I think my parenting has gone pretty well. No, not perfectly but pretty well.

Legal advice states that from eighteen we are ‘off and running’ solo and gosh how hard this is to sit back and let go as a parent but I am doing the best I can. At the age of fifty you would think I should have a good idea of what is going on but often I don’t and I know I am not the only one out there feeling this way.  

I was raised in a nuclear family. However I am a parent of two in a blended family and the rules change a little in this scenario. Professionals state that in a blended family, the step-mum or step-dad should leave most of the parenting to the biological parent and this is fine to a degree. However there are certainly times when the experience of both need to come together and form a ‘united front.’

I had been a single mum for nearly eight years and it was very hard trying to be both mum and dad to my girls. I called on the parenting skills my parents utilised in our family and I think that what I learnt from them has been working, with a little tweeking too. Well, to get feedback along the lines of ‘your children are delightful’ and ‘gosh you must be so proud of your children’ and just the other day a friend said ‘they are good kids because you have taught them well’ says I must be doing something right. Does it apply all the time, absolutely not. We have fallouts like any other family, especially this thing called parenting eighteen year olds. It is a whole new world to me. I walk around on eggshells, feeling as guilty as hell, trying to right the wrongs in their lives and ‘Band-Aid’ the tears. Parenting! No wonder no one will pay us….they couldn’t afford us.

Is bad behaviour contagious? I think sometimes it can be if parents don't step up and draw those boundaries. I have been made aware of certain teens in a peer group and the attitude towards their parent/s, by a certain advisor. I was able to experience this attitude myself eventually and watched how a teen verbally ‘tore strips off’ her mother in my presence and didn’t even flinch whilst she did it. Clearly it was a regular occurrence. I looked at this teen in amazement and she knew when our eyes met that I was not at all impressed. I guess her going red-faced and dropping her head was the ‘give away’ that maybe she was ‘out of line.’ Honestly, the lashing was like ‘grease lightning’ and if I hadn’t seen and heard it I wouldn’t have believed it. Mum stood there and muttered a couple of words to her daughter but in my eyes it was far from adequate and I know my girlfriend standing next to me felt exactly as I did.

So why? Angry teens? A mum who won’t discipline? Time-poor parenting? Why is it that those of us who care enough about our children will stand up and be held accountable and ask for respect from them (and be so exhausted at the same time) and then other parents will do the complete opposite? I don’t get it. To witness the bad attitude and the lack of parenting horrified me and left me in amazement. When I had a ‘post mortem’ with my advisor on this subject sometime after, the reply to this experience was simply ‘I told you so.’ What gave me encouragement was that my advisor is a little bit older than the ‘guilty party’ and thank goodness can see right from wrong.

Is parenting the hardest job? You better believe it. I guess at once stage in my life I would have loved to be taking international or interstate flights to fulfil my career and drive around in that convertible and take numerous overseas holidays, have a zillion and one credit cards at my fingertips allowing me to buy the latest Givenchy or Chanel outfit whilst the nanny tended to my offspring. Who wouldn’t? Instead I have opted for less and have received much more. I am so proud of my girls. They make me feel like a zillion dollars without the credit cards. Does it bother me not to have those credit cards at my disposal? Not for a nanosecond. You see I can be with my children in public and have acquaintances chat to them and then mention to me how proud I must be of these fabulous young ladies and that is more valuable than all the credit cards in the world.

http://raisingchildren.net.au/

It would be selfish of me not to make you aware of this Australian website. For those parents needing a bit of extra guidance/insight, check it out.....I think it is great.

The times they are a-changin'

Most of you will already know from reading my various blogs that I am a Roman Catholic and very proud of it. I have attended schools of various Catholic religious orders such as the Sisters of St Joseph (St Mary MacKillop’s order), the Good Samaritans and The Sisters of Mercy (my nursing training hospital here in BrisVegas is run by these amazing women) and can I say I think they have done a pretty good job collectively.

My memories of these educators focus mostly on the St Joseph nuns who will now be affectionately and respectfully referred to as the Joeys’ in this blog and the Sisters of Mercy, referred to as the Mercy’s, again, with fervent respect and affection.

Saint Mary MacKillop, our first Australian saint, clearly held her religion and beliefs in high esteem and having been taught about her, having read much about her and having visited Mary MacKillop Place in North Sydney, where her body now rests in the Mary MacKillop Memorial Chapel, I hold this woman in extremely high esteem. I talk to this fabulous woman on a daily basis and will always admire her strength and intestinal fortitude all the days of my life. St Mary MacKillop was born (1842) of Scottish parents, in Victoria, Australia. Mary started the Sisters of St Joseph religious order and who was, for less than acceptable reasons in her later life, excommunicated from the Catholic Church by her Bishop who was clearly influenced by his priests. Mary was later reinstated as a Catholic by that dying Bishop.

Naturally at school I was not at all terribly fond of The Joeys as it was they who made me attend school and do homework. Now however, as an adult, I realise just how amazing these women were and are. To The Mercy’s, equally, I give as much respect as I reminisce and I do often, about this group of women and their wonderful founder, Catherine McAuley and their role at my nursing training hospital, the Mater Misericordiae Hospital here in Brisbane. Being a Mater girl, I was guided through my three years of training under their reign and now know how the Mater girls are held in such high esteem throughout the nursing community and gives me such pride to be called one of them. The fact that the Mercy’s hold in their hands so much commerce in this amazing city and indeed this country of ours is extremely commendable. They are clearly amazing financiers as well ad educators and more power to them I say. As well I am very proud to be privy to what the Mercy’s produce in their school education portfolio. I am associated with many of the amazing young ladies who have attended their school here in Brisbane and who have gone on to bigger and greater lives which fills my heart with this great pride and faith, knowing we are in good hands in the future. However it is the future of these amazing Josephite and Mercy women educators which concerns me.

In my eyes, to keep the fundamental beliefs of this wonderful religion alive and well, we clearly need to take some serious action as the numbers of those who enter these religious orders diminish, the census will confirm this fact. If the great man Himself was walking this earth, I am guessing that a meeting with Him (and I would make sure I was in attendance too) I would like the dialogue to be something like this:- “How are we doing in your eyes Jesus?” “Well I know you are all doing the best you can however I am watching the numbers of religious in our world and they are diminishing pretty quickly and I think we need to do something about this. Do you all agree?” “Absolutely.” I would then offer my opinion and say something like “Jesus, with respect, I would like to suggest that maybe due to these diminishing numbers carrying your word throughout the world, do you think it would be a good idea that the gentleman at The Vatican should be steering towards amending laws for priests and nuns to marry? (Cue various audible gasps by some present at the meeting.) I feel that there would be more interest in entering religious orders if marriage was an option. Of course, this would not appeal to all and those not interested can continue as is however those wishing to be involved as married religious should be permitted. Now I know that this idea has been suggested by one or two of your current religious order members and it ‘went down like a lead balloon’ but many of my single and married religious friends are in agreement with me. What do you think?” I am hoping his response would be something like "Lou, you have ‘hit the nail on the head,’ I am on my way to The Vatican to discuss this matter with them."

Seriously, I believe that this may be the way to go. ‘The Times they are a-Changin.’ My suggestion is based on not just the factual diminishing religious numbers but also the recent indiscretions of various Catholic priests which have appalled me, my loved ones and friends and family not to mention the Catholic Church and the public and I for one have always and will always believe that man was not meant to live alone.

It is Canon Law ruling priests and nuns unable to wed and I believe this law can be changed.  Look, Adam had Eve, deacons can be married so let’s move it one more step to priests and nuns, hey as I said it is optional but I think it might just work. Why shouldn’t our religious be allowed to marry if they wish? I am pretty sure religious numbers would soar and I for one wouldn’t mind stepping onto the pulpit during a Sunday mass and talk a little on life as a Christian. Yes, I would be very biased and would refer to my fabulous association with the Joeys and the Mercy’s regularly in my sermons and I know heaps of females who would not object to my ‘dissertations.’ Let’s face it, the strong and amazing Saint Mary MacKillop stood up for her beliefs and in a much much much smaller way I guess I am just doing the same. Excommunication for me?……I’d like to see them try!