Not every little boy wants to be Superman when he grows up...

Like a lot of people I have seen this particular image doing the rounds.  I googled what it was about as I was curious and I was actually trying to find the image so I could use it for my own purposes...  It's from Sometimes the Spoon Runs Away with Another Spoon Coloring Book by Jacinta Bunnell and Nathaniel Kusinitz.  So all credit for the image goes to them.

So anyway...
I really liked it and it does resonate with me.  I've always liked Wonder Woman.  That's not to say I wanted to be Wonder Woman.  As a little boy though - I did pretend to be Wonder Woman.  I adored the show (yes I am that old!) and I would do the Wonder Woman spin in my bedroom etc...  She had a bit of a lasting impact really!

I also love that Louise loves Wonder Woman - I get to kind of live vicariously through her.  Although I do have to admit that is my doing - she did see me reading Wonder Woman comics.  Although it was actually Larry that introduced her to the Lynda Carter series - which was before I started reading the New 52 Wonder Woman.

Larry took me to Manhattan in 2007 and he had some work meetings so I got to wander around by myself and I ventured over to Midtown Comics.  I had decided that I wanted to buy a comic from Midtown Comics.  I bought a Wonder Woman trade paperback.  Much to regret it was the Jodi Piccoult arc... I should have grabbed a different one ;)

Anyway just an odd little update from me.

The Nanny Period...

a note to my readers - sorry I have left this blog and our surrogacy story alone for so long.  I really have been a bit slack - I do need to sit down and write this more regularly... so hopefully my slackness will abate for a bit!

Title sounds awful doesn't? ;)

Now I personally had reached a meltdown.  I literally tore myself apart over this.  I had a breakdown - I rang Larry at work and asked him to come home because I couldn't cope.  So we started discussing options, childcare or a nanny.  Now I wasn't ready to go back to work and your Dad has been really gracious about me not working - I will give him full credit for that.  So we ended discussing what would end up working best.  I just needed the ability to get out and do the errands without you two.  So we figured that two days would be best (and it was probably also what we could afford).

So we interviewed a couple of people and I found someone I really quite liked - I just took a while to finally getting around to calling her to tell her that we wanted to hire her.  She was very gracious about it actually - she told me that she understood.  For me it was separating feeling like a failure and actually getting someone to help.  Thankfully Megan was still available to work two days a week for us.  And so there started us having a nanny.

There is probably a lot of people that associate nannies with the wealthy.  I know there are increasing numbers of people who are getting nannies because they can't get places in childcare or it is actually cheaper for them to hire a nanny then have full-time childcare (sorry a bit of a segue).  I did get the reaction a few times that we must be rich to be able to afford a nanny...

So anyway Megan entered our lives.  It took me about a week and a half to able to leave the house for more than an hour... I wasn't really that overprotective!

In a lot of ways Megan was a godsend.  She taught me so much about being a parent and gave me lots of tips and tricks and did also show me where I was doing a few things wrong.  Well not so much wrong but how I could be doing things better...

Probably the main example is that I never set a strict nap routine - I would just let drop where you were when you needed a nap.  Apparently not a good idea as your naps end up being short and I end up being frazzled as part of it.  One of the really important things that Megan taught me was more about myself - I can't be the perfect parent.  I can only be the parent I am.  Noone can be the perfect parent (they don't exist).  All I have to ever do is look at how happy and healthy you are and know that I am doing a good job - or at least the best job I can.

This is also one of my favorite stories involving Megan.  So bathtimes for us were hell.  Sheer absolute hell - noone enjoyed them.  Megan had her doubts that they were that bad... so she decided to give you guys a bath.  I was outside washing your Dad's Vespa as he was selling it.  It honestly sounded like someone was being murdered in the house.  She was shocked!  So anyway she came up with a strategy to help you guys deal with water - we went to the pool - no more horror baths.

Megan has become a very good friend.  She was with us for about 8 months and we had a few comedies.  The horrible Santa photo at Highpoint which I will point out was entirely her idea! HER IDEA!!!! It was shocking but really quite funny.  The photographer was a pain and the Santa was as cranky as all get out and go... and of course two little one year olds didn't want to sit still.

After we stop using Megan as a Nanny she would still babysit and just come around and visit.  She's an amazing friend.

After this started the Montessori and Childcare adventures.  I will get to those in due course.

Sinterklaas vs Santa Claus - cross-culturalism in our household

So Christmas is becoming a topic of discussion in this house.  Quite understandably as there is two five year olds here SO of course they are getting excited... but this is also where it gets kind of interesting.  My heritage is Dutch (and I was born there) so for me it's also about Sint.

Now when we moved here in the early 1980s we had to pretty much assimilate into Australian culture.  Mind you we did also move into an area where there weren't that many Dutch people around.  So suddenly Sint became Christmas (we did have Christmas or Kerstmas in Holland but Sint is the big one) and Santa started bringing us our presents.  Now my brother and I are pretty cluey - I was 8 and he was 10 when we moved here so we kind of figured that Santa wasn't the real deal.  Mum and Dad did try to convince that we now lived too far away for Sinterklaas to deliver our presents and that Santa would deliver them instead.

Let me pause for a second...

Now logically...
Sinterklaas lives somewhere in most likely the Netherlands Antilles and Santa Claus lives in the North Pole.  It's much of a muchness as to who can deliver presents to a couple of Dutch kids in Brisbane, Australia.

So we basically did figure that Santa wasn't real.  We humoured Mum and Dad though until Dad gave up the pretence of Santa (which was pretty much the Christmas after Mum left).  I know it's silly but there is still a little part of me that does believe in Sinterklaas.  As a rational adult I know he's not real but the kid in me still believes in him.

Now for the background for the Sinterklaas vs Santa Claus discussion in this house.  Facebook is wonderful.  So it has allowed me to actually reconnect with some of my cousins in Holland (because we're from the south of the Netherlands we actually refer to is as Holland - because well we're from Holland).  Last year De Ruijter released a coffee chocolate hail and I asked one of my cousins if she would mind sending me some.  My cousin did as well as... (she blew me away to be honest!) a whole bunch of Sint goodies.  One of the things she sent which has been very much appreciated in this house is a Sinterklaas picture book - Louise and Olivia have already been asking me to read it to them.  Which has given me the opportunity to discuss my childhood and Sinterklaas with them.  We're raising cross-cultural kids!  It's funny I had both of them ask me when we were going to get some more Strooigoed (small biscuits with marshmallows).

So because I have been going back over the Sinterklaas thing with them - the topic of Santa Claus came up.  As in why does Sinterklaas only deliver presents to Europe?  Why can't he deliver them here?  Why does Santa have to deliver presents to the rest of the world?  Now these are obviously questions that I don't have answers too but it is kind of fun exploring their wonder behind it all.

I had to stop yesterday though when Louise told me that she didn't believe in Santa.  I was like YIKES! I am not ready for this!!! But I didn't have to worry - she believes in Sinterklaas.  I actually suspect it's an underhanded way to trying to get two lots of presents.  She was amazed when she found that my birthday is the same day as Sint.  YOU GOT TWO LOTS OF PRESENTS!?!?!  So that may actually have something to do with it.

So have you ever had to "come out" as a heterosexual?

Ok
I'm angry...
There's a certain Australian "parenting" website that's run by a woman who used to edit women's magazines here in Australia that decided to report that Sir Michael Parkinson asked Ian Thorpe if he was gay.  Now because she used to edit women's mags they might have thought this was news... for my american readers think national enquirer with dieting tips.

I have a hate/hate relationship with it.  I also do keep trolling it - but I get bored and I need the laughs.

I think it's more that the site tries to bill itself as being inclusive.

So I got my back up.  I was on facebook and saw that a friend had commented on an article that this site had posted about Ian Thorpe being asked by Michael Parkinson if he was gay.  That was pretty much the crux of the "article".

Now that got me to thinking...
If you look at recent history.
Tom Daley had to deal with so many questions around his sexuality... as did Matthew Mitcham...

Now when was the last time someone was asked if they were straight?

Why do people need to keep being asked if they are gay?
Why?

I understand that people feel the need for gay role models.  You know as a society we shouldn't.  We should just accept that people are people.  And it really does come down to why are people who don't fit into the norm are asked why they are "gay" - I don't get it.

I have been an out gay man for 23 years.
I still don't get it.

People are people.
Asking someone if they are gay is rude.
Same as asking someone if they are heterosexual is rude.
It's not something that should be done.

/end rant

So I was taught an important lesson by my kids

I'm a parent to twins.  It's hard.  It's complicated.  It's a struggle to work out the relationships and everything else.

Olivia has been a bit funny for the past couple of weeks and I couldn't work out why.  Larry and I have had discussions in the past about favouritism and the fact that I favour Olivia more over Louise.  Which I tend to - I think it's my protective instinct - Olivia is smaller and has been since birth, and I guess also being the younger sibling myself (I'm not a twin though) I feel for her.  The elder sibling can soak up a lot of attention - which if you've met Louise you'd understand that too!  I think part of it as well is that Olivia is very introverted (like me) but she's always been capable of entertaining herself.

So try to make up the imbalance between time I thought I was spending with Liv and the time I wasn't spending with Louise - I was spending more one-on-one time with Louise.  Unfortunately I wasn't spending much time with Liv one-on-one.

Olivia has developed this habit of tilting her head to one side if she's upset.  Now for the past couple of weeks when I have dropped the girls off at school Olivia has been very withdrawn and doesn't want to move.  None of the educators could draw it out of her and Olivia has said a couple of times that she was "sick" and just wanted to stay home with me.  Which being the awesome parent I am I just ignored (I did the usual checked her temperature etc...).

So yesterday driving home I finally pushed the point and asked her why.  So she actually admitted because I wasn't spending any time with her.  I was shocked.  I had that moment where I went WOAH I have made a mistake as a parent.  I try to do the right thing by one and I stuff up with the other one...

So we talked about it last night and she did say just wants to spend time with me without Louise.  So Olivia and I are having a Michael Daddy and Olivia day on Saturday.  So far it seems to involve Lego, puzzles and watching iPads.

It was funny this morning...
So I got the Lego Simpsons House for the *cough* girls.  Louise doesn't really have that much interest in it so Liv and I have been building it on and off for a little while.  We started on it again last night and we were doing a little bit this morning before I took the girls to Kinder.  Louise dragged Larry into the bedroom because Olivia and I were having some "alone" time.
I am amazed that my kids get it.  We have two very smart little monkeys.
But yes I learnt a lesson.  There's something my GP suggested that she does with her kids (although they are a bit older) is that her and her husband try to spend 20 minutes each day with each child without their siblings around.  Maybe that's something Larry and I need to consider.

Misadventures with a sewing machine and a favourite blankie

One of the things about being a parent is that you end up with an almost prescient sense of when something will go wrong... it's freaky really.

Take for example.
On Saturday, I told Olivia not to take one of her favourite blankies (we bought it in Mumbai just after the girls were born) onto their seesaw and I explained why.  It could get tangled and ripped, not to mention that it could cause an accident and someone could get hurt (the seesaw also spins around).  So come Sunday... what happens?  Blankie gets caught and rips.  It's almost quite literally the end of the world (hell I nearly cried when I had to throw my favourite pair of jeans) so I promised Olivia that I would fix it for her - isn't that what your parents are supposed to do?  Now I should have realised that this would potentially be a challenge for me.

Why?
I can't sew.  I really can't.
  
When I did home economics in high school we were supposed to make a pair of shorts.  I cheated.  I had someone make them for me.  I only sewed the elastic for the waistband.  I hated the sewing components of home ec - the cooking I loved (duh!).

So coming from a history of complete incompetence when it comes to sewing - I decided to buy a sewing machine probably about 2 years ago with the great intention of building a fabric cubby for the girls.  It took me about 6 months to learn how to put the bobbin in (if you asked me to do it now - I probably would still have no idea - I will only sew things that require white thread until the bobbin runs out) and pretty much pulled the bottom half of the sewing machine apart.  So basically for about 2 years the sewing machine has sat in a cupboard gathering dust (with the bobbin in).

I had to do something about the blankie situation and I did promise Olivia I would.  So here was my personal crisis.  I can't sew.  Child needs favourite something fixed.  Solution "suck it up princess" and just try to do it.  It took me until today to actually build up the chutzpah to do it - but I did it.  Badly but I did do it... I now have a happy child and I have a somewhat mixed sense of accomplishment.

At the end of the day - it's not about whether I can sew or not.  It's about making my children happy and that I did accomplish.

Bibs & Bobs (basically a medical update)

So I had my bloods done again.  Pretty much just after the 2 month mark (I'll update accordingly when I have the actual figures and do a comparison with the original numbers).  My psych has gone on holidays so I had to ring my GP to get the numbers.

Basically my liver is still hurting.  Not as much but its still hurting.  So it's on the road to recovery.  My blood cells are looking normal again, apparently they had acquired a bit of a funny shape (not really sure what that was about - but apparently due to heavy drinking blood cells end up looking a bit distended).  And I managed to double my vitamin d numbers... they were sitting on 50 and they are now on 100.  My GPs advice was to basically stop the supplement and just spend more time in the sun.  Although I guess if anything it's a good indication for next winter that my vitamin d levels are likely to drop.

I'm still off the antabuse.  It was amusing.  I told my psych that I had finished my antabuse and the first thing he did was write me out a new prescription for it.  It's apparently standard practice as it does provide a fail-safe if you're tempted to relapse.  When I saw my psych last Thursday - I was doing brilliantly.  I actually wasn't having any cravings - nada, none, zip.  Fast-forward a week to today and I am seriously considering getting the prescription filled.  Yesterday and today have been tough - I don't really know why.  I think if my stress levels go up - then my desire to drink also increases.  I need to find another stress release really.  Exercise has been helping which has been beneficial for both myself and Alfie.  Rather than taking a walk around Albert Park Lake - I have been taking my little mutt for a walk.  So there's that - my GP suggesting getting into a craft.  I am using baking as my new addiction/stress mechanism and she quite honestly told me to stop it before I start putting on weight.

I'm out of the transitions program.
YAY!!!!
They cancelled it as there wasn't enough people.
YAY!!!!
I'm completely heartbroken of course.
YAY!!!!
As my psych said one of the takeaways is that it does actually show how relatively non-crazy I am.  There was just so much that I couldn't and can't relate to - like people naming the voices in their head.

Although here was something weird.  I got a phonecall yesterday from the clinic suggesting that I do an assessment for their life skills group.  I asked the guy what the program was about - he didn't really know.  But he suggested that I come in - spend $110 for an assessment and they could tell me more at the assessment what the program was about.  What?  I said no.  You don't know what you're talking about - I'm not going to spend the money.