Leaving On A Jet Plane

Last Thursday night we had a very casual pizza farewell dinner for my parents, who are off on there first ever overseas trip. They'll be touring Great Britain for a fortnight, and to say that they were excited would be a bit of understatement. Ok, maybe not so much for my dad, who is a typical bloke and contains himself quite well, but my mum... she's a whole other story, bless her. Unfortunately for my dad - and to a lesser extent, the rest of us - my mums excitement always seems to manifest itself as fuss and worry. That is, you know she's really excited and looking forward to it, but the closer it gets to the date of a big event, the more little niggly things she finds to worry about, or fuss over. In the past week she had packed her bags twice, and i had unpacked them and packed them for properly once; she'd been to the bank and to Telstra at least once each; she even wanted to pay her council rates and electricity bill in advance in case they came when she was away on holidays! And i have no doubt that this morning she would have checked and re-checked her documents about ten thousand times....

I'm kind of excited for them too, to be honest. Its nice that after years and years raising a family, working their bums off so that we would have enough ( and lots of time sacrificing things they needed or wanted )..... its nice that now that we're all grown that they can go and treat themselves. They can get out and see some more of the world, and live the kind of life they probably dreamed of as 21 and 22 yr old newlyweds. They deserve it, thats for damn sure.

Plus, a cashed up Grandma and Poppy overseas surely means pressies upon their return - and that can only be a good thing, right?

Good Cop, Bad Cop

I think I may be the bad cop in our parenting relationship.

Not this kind of bad cop though - Mick wishes!

See, in the last day, Mick has twice "rescued" Flynn from a place he didnt want to be - in his cot, going to sleep ( a la Project SleepyTime ) and on the floor having his tummy time. Though the self settling is getting better, sometimes Mr Flynn is still trying his darndest to resist going to sleep. I, being Mummy, am happy to let him cry for 10 minutes and then go in and settle him, knowing that the whole thing is beginning to work and he will eventually fall asleep. Last night Mick says " you want me to go in this time? " and. happy that Daddy was wanting to help out with the Project, i obliged. Next thing i know Mick is back - with Flynn in tow. " He didnt want to go to sleep " he says. Well yes, i know that, but he would have if you'd given him just a few more minutes. Flynn, meanwhile, still has his dummy in but his smiling his little head off. In his mind its Flynn-1, Mummy-0.

And then there was tummy time. Flynn is not really a fan. He never has been, but i think now that he's older he's starting to get frusturated that he can lift his knees and belly off the ground but he still cant move forward. I have tried telling the poor little bloke that he wont learn to crawl unless he has his tummy time, even if he doesnt like it. I have even discussed this with Daddy. So i put Flynn on his tummy and within five minutes he's having a whingey cry. I tell him he's ok, you'll be alright and go to the kitchen to get a drink....and come back to find Flynn off his tummy and on Daddys lap. " But he was crying, he didnt want to be on his tummy " says Mick. Grrr.... Flynn-2, Mummy-0.

Then, this morning? For the first time ever Flynn has a cuddle with Daddy and then, when Mick hands him back to me....Flynn turns his little head, reaches his arms out to Daddy and starts his whingey noise. I want my Daddy! Although i'm glad that he's finally past his clinginess, and loved the look of joy on Mick's face when he realised he was the " wanted " one this morning, methinks this also means that Flynn knows Daddy is a softie - and that Mummy is the hard arse.

Give A Little Bit

So this is where i publicly state my intention to donate my organs after my death. Yes, Mum, Dad and anybody else who may care at that particular moment, I want to donate my organs to those who need them after my death. What has prompted this public declaration ? I have just finished watching a " 60 Minutes " article about a young Australian named Doujon Zammit.

Doujon had been having the time of his very young life in Mykonos, Greece, earlier this year when after having left one of the tourist pubs, he and his friend were set upon by four nightclub bouncers. Doujon was savagely beaten, including been hit with a metal pipe, until the point of unconscious. He was taken to hospital but, unfortunately, he was a few days later declared brain dead. His father, who had flown to Greece to be by his bedside, made the agonising decision to turn off his life support and, in accordance with his sons wishes, to donate his organs.

I cannot imagine how devastating a decision that must have been, which is why i'm taking this opportunity to make my wishes known, and to spare my parents the burden of that choice. It is, very saddeningly, a choice they have had to make before. For those of you who are new readers of this blog, I had a brother die from meningitis at the age of 1 ( i was almost 5 at the time ). They said it was just too hard to think of having their little boy cut up, of having him divided, even though they knew they could have saved others by doing so. I guess the suddenness of his illness and death ( he fell ill and died within a 24 hour period ), and the fact that you pretty much have to make the decision on the spot, was just too much to bare. I would also imagine that having lost such a young child would make the decision harder aswell. As I said, i would never want them to ever have to make that choice again.

So, as you can probably tell, organ donation happens to be important to me. I'm telling you all now of my intentions, and I am officially registered on the Australian Organ Donation Registery ( and, although not legally binding, on my drivers licence ). I am registered to donate everything - that would be lungs, kidney, heart, liver, skin - except my corneas. This is mainly because my corneas are absolutely crap and are of no use to me right now, let alone anybody else, but also because I might wana be using them in any afterlife there might be. Call me crazy, I just cant bare the idea of anybody messing around with my eyes after i'm gone.

So there we go, intentions stated and semi-rant over. I'll use this last little paragraph to urge all of you to think seriously about organ donation and if its something you agree with, let your loved ones know what you want done. You never know how soon they could be called upon to make the harrowing decision without your help....

Oddly Comfortable Deja Vu

So i have spent the majority of the day moving loads of stuff to my parents house. I'm not actually officially moving out of my duplex until next weekend but i thought i'd get a jump on proceedings. I've basically moved all my stuff from my room here to my room there - clothes, shoes, accessories, toiletries and beauty products. I've kept enough stuff here to last me the next five days but other than that its all set up at Ma and Pa's. I have to admit that cleaning out the wardrobe has been like a cleansing ( goodbye old stuff, hello more room in wardrobe for new stuff! ) and the packing, unpacking and moving back and forth has been almost as good a workout as going to the gym.

But you know what ? I have this odd split feeling. Everything feels so familiar - i've put my bed in the same position as it was when i was a teenager, my clothes are all on the same shelves, things like that - but its all so weird too. I'm conflicted - i dont know whether i'm okay with moving back or not, and i dont know whether i should feel grateful that my parents are looking out for me, or irritated that my sister had to move out. Thats quite selfish actually, isnt it? Of COURSE i should be grateful. If it werent for their generous offer i'd probably soon be wallowing in debt. And its not exactly my sisters fault that she lost her job ( the place where she worked closed down ) but she isnt exactly trying enormously hard to look for more fulltime work, so i'm kind of peeved.

On the other hand, it might be nice to have actual conversations with people again. I dont know whether i mentioned it before but the few months my sister and i lived together we rarely had actual discussions - sure, we talked, we jibber-jabbered, but rarely did we sit down and actually talk. So it will be nice to able to, say, watch a news report and then be able to discuss the issue with my parents ( my father in particular ). Plus, it'll be good to save that little bit of extra money. That'll come in real handy when i make the move to Sydney, with its high cost of living and all.

So just think - this time next week i'll be blogging from the comfort of my old bedroom, hanging out on my bed with my cd player blaring, just the way i did when i was 15 yrs old. Only, back then, it was a paper and pen diary and i didnt have an audience....