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momentous events Random thoughts

Finally…! (It took a while!)

It was late in September of 2004. The sun-warmed pebbles of my driveway bruised the soles of my feet as I leaned over my growing bump to hug my friend and offer to help with her bags. She declined, unceremoniously dumping them on the ground, touching my tummy, and letting out a squeal of delight at a corresponding, well-aimed kick at her hand. I was recently 30, and six months pregnant with my eldest. Working as Head of English at Caloundra Christian College left little time to think about pregnancy, let alone the needs of a nursery and a newborn, so Katrina, a girl I knew from our dance ministry team in Nambour, had volunteered to throw me a baby shower at my place. She had arrived early to set up, organise the games, prizes and refreshments.

Baby showers were all new to me. Ever since I could remember, I’d NEVER been one to understand young children. Especially babies. They freaked me out a little. Both my parents had left their entire families in their home countries, so I had zero experience with younger cousins (well, ANY cousins, really!) or friends with younger siblings, and had majored and taught in only secondary schools. “Give me a child after they’re toilet trained and can hold a conversation!” I would always say…

So, there I was. Six months pregnant, and at a baby shower for the very first time. And it was mine! I was interested to see how the day would unfold, and observe the reactions of the others, so I could gauge how I was expected to act. I had NEVER felt ‘clucky’ in my entire life – nor felt anything even remotely resembling maternal instinct. I had been focussed on my career, my relationship with my husband of almost 9 years, and paying off vehicles, paying rent, and then achieving the exalted rank of being a mortgage owner for the past few months.

I turned my thoughts back to Katrina as I had vaguely been aware of her handing something towards me. I expected it to be a bag of Baby Shower items, but noticed with a degree of surprise that it was a present. “I wanted to give this to you before everything started. I saw it yesterday and just loved it… I hope you do too!” Smiling, I thanked her and started to turn around and head up to the house when she stopped me. “No! Do you think that maybe you could open it now?”

“Oh! Okay… sure,” I replied, thinking how nice it was to be given ‘baby things’, as (my pragmatic mind chimed in) it would mean less for me to purchase prior to the mid-January due date.

I carefully opened the wrapping paper, remarking on how I’d made another payment on the cot I’d laybyed at BabyCo, and pulled out the baby outfit. It was a size 000 short-sleeved bodysuit. The top half showed a white background, above horizontal stripes in red, yellow and blue all the way down to its press-studded crotch. But it was the picture on the white background however, that grabbed my attention. It was of a baby tiger, and the accompanying words read “cute little tiger… roar roar roar”.

My reaction was instantaneous. I could SEE a baby wearing this bodysuit. MY baby, wearing this bodysuit. Maybe even pretending to BE a cute baby tiger, and roaring for attention. The emotions that flooded my body were absolutely indescribable. All of a sudden, I had finally ‘GOT’ it! It had taken until I was gone 30, but I finally understood exactly what people were talking about when they said that they ‘were clucky’! I had a sudden, desperate urge to HOLD my unborn baby in my  arms. To know what it felt like to be a Mum. My eyes teared up, and I have no idea how long I stood there, or what I did next. And I didn’t care. All I knew was that I – me! Ceridwyn Bloxham! – was going to be a Mum. For REAL!

Looking back now, I realise that it had certainly taken a long time, but perhaps that maternal feeling was all the more sweet for being so timely. It certainly was a momentous event – number two in my list of six – and remembering that gush of emotions helps me through the more mundane parts of being mother to that same girl that kicked Katrina’s hand that day, ever so long ago now. The covering of what feels like a mountain of schoolbooks this morning, in preparation for next week’s entry into Grade One, when that same little girl will dress for the first time (of many, I’m sure!) in her ‘big girl’s formal uniform’, ironed by me that morning in preparation for the day… yes, remembering that Baby Shower morning certainly gives me that extra spur I need at times!

Anyway… enough waffling. I’d love to hear when YOU first felt that intense emotional whirlpool. Or are you like I was, unacquainted with ‘being clucky’?

Still an’ all… until tomorrow, dear readers, when number three sees me again in a church setting…

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momentous events places to visit

On your marks… get set…

I’ve just recently started seeing the value in long term commitments. You see, I suffered (and sometimes still do, to be truthful) from pretty major depression as a teenager, and quite literally believed that I would never see January 1, 2000. I had worked out that I would be 26 years old, and, as I could never imagine myself EVER being ‘that old’ (“HA!” my brain is saying now,) I just assumed that I wouldn’t be around. That I’d be dead by then.

So, seeing 2000 was pretty momentous for me. But not enough to make the list I’m starting today: the six most momentous events in my life (to date). And the first would HAVE to be the day I commenced the long-distance “marathon” I hope to finish only on the day I die. (Which will hopefully be many, many, MANY years from now! I’ve kinda gotten used to this whole ‘living’ bit!)

The 18th of November, 1995 dawned just as the day before it had, and the day after it would. Nothing momentous there. I was up early, full of adrenalin and my brain working overtime with those “last minute” things which absolutely HAD to be done. Then it was a quick dash (no, I didn’t speed!) from the family home at Eight Mile Plains to the Stradbroke Ferries Water Taxi at Cleveland. Arriving with a couple of friends with a few minutes to spare, we clambered aboard the 6am Taxi and spent twenty minutes being jolted across to Dunwich. Once there, we made our way to the first of three destinations for the day. Meanwhile, up the hill, in the green house with the stupendous view overlooking the whole of the Bay, and the mainland from Coolangatta to Coolum, more people were busy, getting ready for the day’s activities. An informal bus service was set up, from the house down to the Water Taxi terminal, to collect the many visitors that would be arriving, and bring them either back to the house or take them to the second destination. Which itself was also a hive of activity – being decorated with flowers, ribbons, and candles, ready for the midday celebrations.

By 8am it was starting to heat up. So much so that by 9.30, it was raining. Enough to dampen the spirits of others, but not mine. I was determined that nothing could spoil this day for me… and sure enough, the rain stopped well before 11, leaving a cooler day and enough time to dry out the ground prior to the big event.

By midday, everyone had arrived that was meant to, and all had been transported to the second destination. St Marks Anglican Church – a tiny wooden building on the road north. It had louvres for windows, and each louvre was a different colour. “Perhaps the Australian version of stained glass windows?”  I joked later. Still, everyone was there, milling around, catching up with old friends and acquaintances, and meeting new ones. By 12.10 Pastor John Geoghegan could be seen checking his watch. He then started pacing from the altar to the front door, looking earnestly. He was there, ushering the last of the stragglers inside, when he caught sight of the car. He happily turned to the church and announced, ‘Well – Ceridwyn IS here’ and then took his place back at the altar.

Steeping out of the car in my dress and heels, veil over my face, I remember I couldn’t stop grinning from ear to ear. My father took my arm, and as the flower girl and bridesmaid walked ahead, I thought to myself, “Well – this is it!”

It’s now over fifteen years later. I’m 36, and on the 18th of November 2010, my husband and I celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary. No, it hasn’t always been easy. Some of it’s been downright TOUGH. But without that first day, I wouldn’t be sitting here now, on the 18th of January 2010, proud of the longest commitment I’ve ever had. (Well, with the exception of being alive, that is.) Without that first day, I wonder if I would indeed lived to see January 1 2000, even. Looking back, I’m very glad I DID live to see it – and glad that I’ve seen every day since then, too!

Well that’s it. The most momentous event in my life. My wedding to the man of my dreams (yes, literally!) on the 18th of November, 1995. A brilliant event. One I’m so appreciative I’ve experienced. And I hope you don’t mind my sharing it with you today.

So – any thoughts on YOUR most momentous event?

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#blog12daysxmas Random thoughts

Tigger vs Rabbit

Today marks the end of my week-long posting series. (It was actually meant to finish yesterday, but I kinda piked out last Thursday due to the Queensland floods.) But anyway, this is the seventh ‘Important Word in my life’, inspired both by the the American Dialect Society’s ‘Word of the Year’ and by @fionawb‘s #blog12daysxmas posts. So, to sum up:

Word 1 was ‘integrity’, Word 2 was ‘restless’, and Word 3, ‘blessed’. I realised that ‘history’ should probably be Word number 4, never having previously comprehended the depth of my emotional attachment to the city of my childhood until it was destroyed in the floods. Word 5 ‘organised’ offset the ‘openly emotional’ of Word 6. And today? The final day? I think it would be remiss of me to not include ‘responsibility’. As in, something which I feel weighs heavily on my shoulders.

I think I’ve always been a responsible person. Maybe it comes of being a middle child. Maybe because I was the girl between two boys. But I can’t ever remember a time when I haven’t felt as though ‘goofing off’ was morally irresponsible. Weird, looking back! Once, I led a devotion at Caloundra Christian College, comparing A.A.Milne‘s characters of Tigger and Rabbit. Tigger, the playful one who bounces through life, oblivious to the damage he causes to others, and Rabbit, the grumpy ‘it must be done properly, in an orderly manner’ one. My point was that as teachers, we shouldn’t force our Rabbit ways on our Tigger students if (as happened in the example I gave) the end result is the same. I was speaking from a wealth of experience. I am far more of a Rabbit than a Tigger. It’s funny, cos Tigger is my favourite of the whole cast of characters! (Maybe it’s true – that opposites attract?) Anyway. I’d say that ‘responsibility’ is an apt choice for my seventh and final word important to me. That reflects the person I think myself to be.

Looking over the list, it seems pretty bleugh. But that may just be my perception. As I mentioned previously, for each character trait I tend to see the negative outweigh the positive. But that’s okay. The list is finished now. So let’s move on to something more fun. More interesting. And I’ll try to present six of them. Momentous events in my life. (That way, I’ll cover that ‘cult’ story I mentioned the other day.)

So… til tomorrow, dear readers – stay safe and well!

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Random thoughts

Of hearts and sleeves

Just thought I’d look up the meaning of that phrase ‘wear your heart on your sleeve’. I mean – I kinda knew it meant ‘to openly display your emotions’, but I just wanted to check. Didn’t know it was from the Bard! But it was used with a negative connotation – the devious Iago, in Othello, planned to fake it.

People say I do this. Wear my heart on my sleeve. For real though, not feigning it! (I think!) Which I guess  can be a good thing. Yes, I’d be hopeless at poker (BlackJack is the game I’m addicted to, anyway – again, another story for another post!) but on the other hand (Tevye‘s singing in my head right now…) I’d like to think that I’m someone that others can trust. That isn’t fake, or so reserved that it’s hard to get to know me.

So the word for today, Day 6 of 7 posts on ‘Important Words in my life”, is ‘open’. And yes, I realise that in yesterday’s post I made mention of bi-polar disorder. Which doesn’t seem to have much at all to do with being ‘open’, except for the fact that I tend to be open about my emotions. And it’s the scope of my emotions that make me sometimes believe that I might have tendencies toward bi-polar. As in, I fit that nursery rhyme down PAT “When she was good, she was very, very good. And when she was bad, she was horrid!” My default position is to vaccillate between being euphoric and hyper-positive about everything (I prefer this state to the other!) and being depressed. I’ve never been officially diagnosed, but it wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest if a diagnosis was positive, were I to take the test. Not that it worries me too much. Early in 2009, I spent some time seeing a psychiatric nurse, and the techniques she taught me have helped tremendously, so I am immensely thankful for that!

Anyway, I feel as though I’ve waffled enough for today. And I’d like some sleep in case my boy starts screaming again in a few hours…

Thanks for reading!

 

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Random thoughts

Word Number 5

I’d say that today’s offering is the one word most people use to describe me. Organised. Which can be a good thing – if kept in moderation. If taken to its anal-retentive extremes however, as I admit to sometimes, it can (I’m sure!) be pretty bloody annoying for those around me – especially my poor long-suffering hubby and three kids!

Let’s focus on the positives, though. Being organised can mean that your life, (and others too, don’t forget!) runs more smoothly. At least, that’s what I like to think. And I’m always wanting to be helpful! Hehe.

I mentioned in an earlier post all I was involved in last semester. I ran myself ragged, and lived on adrenalin. (And chocolate!) But I survived, as did my children and (amazingly enough!) my marriage – just – due to my organisational abilities. Which I guess I’m pretty proud of, even though I sometimes dwell on the negative and berate myself for how badly I let things, relationship-wise, slip on the home front.

So yes, I guess any list of seven ‘Important Words in my Life’ probably wouldn’t be complete without including this one. But I guess it’s not something I’m particularly proud of, as this seems (to me, anyway) to be turning into a pretty blah post. Sorry about that.

Anyway, I’m exhausted from a VERY long day, so shall leave this for now and tomorrow regale you with my notions of bi-polar disorder…

Stay safe, dear readers!

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places to visit Random thoughts

The Brissie Kid

I’m the reason my parents moved to Australia. My older brother had been born in a hospital in New Guinea, four years earlier, and I guess they didn’t want a repeat experience. So when they discovered that I was on the way, they relocated to Australia – to Eight Mile Plains in Brisbane, to be precise. Dad found employment as a lecturer in Literacy and Language Development at Mt Gravatt Teachers College, (later to become Griffith University,) and I arrived on the seventh of June, 1974. Six months before the floods devastated the city.

I spent the first nineteen years of my life in that house on Padstow Road, just up the hill from Logan Road, and opposite Multicap Meadows. It got busy during that time, so much so that the B-doubles letting off their airbrakes as they drove past my window lulled me to sleep during my final years there, while I finished Senior at Redeemer Lutheran College in Rochedale and started my B.Ed at Griffith.

I was fortunate to have a bus stop not 100 metres away. With the help of a year-long, go anywhere at any time’ student bus pass, I did the ‘teenage rebellion’ thing and used it lots, spending the majority of my time passing through Garden City on my way into town, to meet friends and hang out, catch a movie, window shop. When at Uni I would bus to my part-time job/s in town, spend time reading novels while sunbaking at South Bank, or (later still) try winning money at the casino. In fact, I was so comfortable travelling by bus, I didn’t get my license until I was 20 – and that, a motorbike license. I then found an even greater sense of freedom on my blue Suzuki GSX250, travelling to UQ at St Lucia to study French in the evenings, during my 4th year of Uni – and the back way, past the Rocklea Markets, became quite a speedway at the almost-10pm mark!

And now to my apology. My prior two posts were… well… more non-events than events. Due to my incredulity at the floods devastating Brisbane again. Quoting my younger brother, who emailed me from London this morning, “I knew those streets. Now they’re gone.” Perhaps this post will go part-way toward an explanation. And that brings me to what I had not realised about myself, but have now…

My important word for today: history. My past, to be specific. I guess what ‘they say’, IS actually true. Your past DOES make you the person you are. So as I stop, and remember, and grieve for what may never be again, I shall also remember  that if my history IS that important to me, then today, right now, and every moment to come, will also be a part of my ‘history’ one day. So I should make the most of it. How about you?

Til tomorrow, dear readers…

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Uncategorized

Sorry.

I’m sorry, dear readers, but my emotions are too raw to write today.

Keep safe.

Ceridwyn

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Uncategorized

dumbfounded. and speechless.

I have been thinking about this blog post all day. I had planned on posting it early this morning, and sharing my own ‘flood story’ – when hubby and I were flooded in with our three kids at 1770 just the other week. But I have had to force myself to turn on my computer tonight – I’ve been glued to the TV all day. Absolutely speechless at the devastation that has hit my beloved state. Lost for words. And with the feeling that if I add my own little story to all those hundreds coming out minute by minute, it may diminish the gravity of the current situation, and that’s something I don’t want to do.

So I’ll just state that the word I had chosen for me today, to represent who I am, was ‘blessed’. And that needs very little explanation.

Stay safe, dear readers. Please.

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Random thoughts

Life is short…

Today marks Day Two in my aim to discover seven ‘Important Words in my Life’, inspired by the American Dialect Society’s ‘Word of the Year’. This list reflects the person I think myself to be. (But I’m happy to be proved wrong, as for each character trait I tend to see the negative outweigh the positive!) So each day I’ll be explaining why I believe each word to be important enough for me to include in my list. So. My word for today? Restless.

I fully identify with some people’s difficulty in just ‘stopping’. I don’t think that I actually can. Looking back on my life post-school, it would be easy to mistake me for a Gen Y, as I’ve changed direction every few years! (Yes, I realise that this seems to contradict the ‘commitment’ inherent in yesterday’s important word “Integrity”, but all will become clear…)

I graduated High School in 1991. I then started my Bachelor of Education at Griffith University the following year, but left mid-third year to lead the cult I had joined about six months earlier. (That’s another huge story for another post though!) Fortunately, I had left the cult by the following February, so I enrolled in 12 courses in my fourth year, to finish the degree with the rest of my cohort at the end of 1995, the same week of my wedding. From being a teacher in 1996, by mid 1998 I was a Subject Area Cordinator and by 2002 a Head of Department. I became a mother in 2005 and then a Head of Middle School in mid 2006. In 2008 I became a mother of two, and then had my final child in 2009, the same year I founded goodoldtalk.com – the site I run with my own mother. In 2010, I ventured into the world of Primary teaching, and also started my Masters mid-year, with a view to qualify myself as a Teacher Librarian by mid-2012.

So when you boil it all down, it would seem that I lack commitment to seeing things through. Not true though, in my opinion. When commencing each position, there was a steep learning curve initially. But I endeavoured to master the ins-and-outs of each job quickly, developing each department under my care to the fullest of my ability, before moving on to my next challenge, leaving each position better for my being there. (I think that one of my words for later in the week should be ‘conceited’, too!) So regarding being ‘committed’, ask any of my employers. I doubt I would have been promoted as quickly through my career if they hadn’t seen my potential. So rather than being a non-committal employee, I would say I am the opposite. I give 110 percent to any job I have. (And there’s my pathetic maths skills showing themselves again!)

But in my own opinion, after I’ve ‘been there, done that’, and conquered that particular challenge, I’m ready for the next one. I think it’s because I want to ‘suck the marrow out of life’ – after al, we only get one of them! Or maybe I’m trying to find my ‘limits’, or something. Came pretty close to finding them in Semester Two of 2010, too! (Teaching three days a week at two different schools, running a website and the Mosquito Magnet business with my husband, studying 38CP’s worth of my Masters – and getting 2 HD’s and a D, which I’m quite proud of! – and being a wife and mum to three children aged 5, 2 and 1.) That was pretty insane, I must admit. Not going to do that one again!

Anyway, I’ve blabbed on enough. Have a lovely rest-of-the-day, and I’ll meet you here, same time, same place, tomorrow!

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my novel-in-progress Random thoughts

Words, words, words…

As the Bard had Hamlet say, a few hundred years ago, “though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down”. The written word can be so powerful. Truth needs to play a balancing act with tact. Words, words, words. They’ve been on my mind of late, and not only since commencing blogging 19 days ago. (Only four more days and it’s a fully fledged habit, isn’t that right? They say it takes three weeks…)

@fionawb used her 12 posts in #blog12daysxmas to regale us with 12 important words in her life. Graham Kell, my pastor at Chancellor Park Community Church, mentioned yesterday that the 2010 Word of the Year was ‘App’. Both of these got me wondering about the application of important words in my own life. If I had a ‘word of the day’ each day, what would it be? Could I find seven words important to me, enough to fill a week’s worth of posts? I didn’t know, but I’m planning to find out. And by the end of this week, we can all see just how well I went! So. The ‘Word of the Day’ for today? Day One of seven ‘Important Words in my Life”…

Integrity. A concept I like to think that I live my life by. “My word is my bond.” I want to be a person who is trustworthy. If I commit to something, I want to be able to see it through, “come hell or high water”. I guess it stems from my pride, which I have in spades. (And yes, I know that that’s not necessarily a good thing.) But be that as it may, I’ll keep my word once I give it. And hopefully, that’s not so bad. (And on another ‘word-related’ thought, I thought it’d be fun to include a few clichés in my writing this week. How many can you find?)

Anyway, that’s it. My Day One offering – integrity. Tune in tomorrow for Day Two’s word… and have a lovely day today, dear readers!