Tag Archives: teens

Why am I here?

Parenting isn’t a walk in the park and my kids are constantly keeping me on my toes. Lately, that’s even involved attempting pirouettes!

Well, to sharpen my toes even further, my son asked me this curly question today…“Why am I here?”

‘if your life is cloudy and you’re way off course,

you might have to go on faith for awhile,

but eventually you’ll learn that

every time you trust your internal navigation system,

you’ll end up closer to your right life.”

-Martha Beck.

He was in trouble and he mumbled something about dying being easier than living so why bother? It wasn’t a completely dark question at the time…more of an observation. He’s 12 years old and this kind of question goes with the turf. He’s not unique. Indeed, I remember feeling much the same and my Dad saying: “Life wasn’t meant to be easy”.

However, this was actually part of a longer quote:

“Life is not meant to be easy, my child; but take courage: it can be delightful.”

― George Bernard Shaw

Jonathon Climbing Tree

Mister in the Climbing Tree 2011, Aged 6.

Anyway, in response to my son’s question my immediate response (which I didn’t share with him at the time) was that he wasn’t here to melt Halloween lollies in my new waffle maker, leaving a layer of sticky tar glued to the non-stick base. That he and his sister were not put on this planet to destroy everything within a 365 degree radius. Indeed, they could keep their sticky fingers all to themselves!!

Yet, I said nothing. Rather, I stared scrawling  my frustrations down on paper the way we writers do. While I know that doesn’t achieve anything, at least venting on paper helps me feel better!

“You just can’t sit there and wait for people to give you that golden dream, you’ve got to get out there and make it happen for yourself”

-Diana Ross.

Anyway, when I asked my kids what possessed them to put lollies in my waffle machine, they told me that they’d seen a u tuber melt a Barbie doll in a waffle machine. While I’m no fan of Barbie, melting Barbie in a waffle machine for fun seemed rather sadistic. You also have to wonder what the world is coming to when a video of someone with bad language melting Barbie in a waffle machine gets 2,418,875 views with 94,220 likes. Moreover, unlike some of the crazy stunts your kids might see on TV, there’s no mention of: “kids don’t try this at home”. These U tubers have hero status,  yet no responsibility. No accountability.

So, I am grateful that I didn’t find Barbie stuck to my waffle machine instead of just the lollies. With a bit of boiling water and chipping away, the waffle machine is fine and the kids will need to be dead, before they’re allowed to stay home from school again.

Jonathon sunset

Why am I here?

Meanwhile, I still had to answer my son’s question: why am I here?

I told him that this was a question which philosophers, poets, sing writers, The Bible have all addressed for thousands of years. After all, it is the ultimate quest for each and every one of us to work out why we’re here. To find our purpose, our path, calling, direction…whatever you want to call it.

“There is no greater gift you can give or receive than to honor your calling. It’s why you were born. All how you become most truly alive.”

-Oprah Winfrey.

This needn’t be a selfish, navel-gazing process. It can also be about that person who really wants to make a difference, help others, change the world or has spiritual ideas but doesn’t know quite how or where to serve or give. After all, it’s particularly hard for the inspired visionary to live with their vision, without knowing how to execute it. Indeed, this anguish could cause these brightest of flames, to snuff themselves out.

Anyway, to humour myself, I entered: “Why am I here?” into Google. I didn’t expect much, if anything, but Google has surprised me before and has delivered.

That’s was when I was reminded of the power of the personality quiz. These are not only great fun but I swear these quizes know me better than I know myself. Of course, you have to sort the wheat from the chaff too. I found this quiz on Who Are You Mean to Be? from Oprah Magazine http://www.oprah.com/omagazine/Who-Are-You-Meant-to-Be-Self-Assessment-Quiz_1 It showed great insight and no surprises one of my top scores was Striving to Be Creative. I’ve pasted it down below because it really made sense to me.

Jonathon Christmas Tree 2

How creative! Mister turned himself into a Christmas Tree 2006 aged 2.

Striving to be Creative

You are an artist: You came out of the womb with a paintbrush in your hand. Or maybe it was a flute or a castanet or a fountain pen to go with your poet’s imagination. The point is, you’re an original, and you know it. Even if you don’t have a singular gift, you’re drawn to the arts—anything creative, for that matter— and you have a unique way of looking at the world. Your need for depth and authenticity in relationships can lead to both great joy and profound sorrow, depending on whether others reciprocate. You don’t care so much about adapting to group or societal expectations; your independence and sharp intuition propel you on your own path.

What to watch out for: When fear of conformity overrides your creativity, you can assume the role of “outsider” or “orphan” and end up feeling alienated. You may even go so far as refusing to vote or pay taxes. This lone-wolf stance might be a defense against feeling vulnerable. Try to be aware that blaming others for your banishment, or pushing away those who want to get close, only makes things worse. Also, dramatizing your emotions can interfere with your creativity.

Looking ahead: As long as you genuinely express yourself, you feel like the person you were meant to be. How you do it is irrelevant. A chef or architect can be as much of an artist as a painter or sculptor. Many advertising and public relations executives are also highly imaginative. Beyond work, there are opportunities everywhere you look to coax out your inner artist: Design your own jewelry line, create an innovative blog, dream up a comic strip. Relationships are another avenue for self-expression.

Google also linked me up with some great quotes, which I’ve scattered throughout.
There’s also this thought provoking post by Mark Manson  Seven Strange Questions to Establish Your Life’s Purpose. I highly recommend you read it!
Meanwhile, it’s time for me to think about fueling his physical body as well as his mind. Neither of my kids have ever been great eaters but we think he’s going through a growth spurt. Not only is he eating four Weetbix for breakfast, he turns up in the kitchen hunting for dinner with that same starved look our poor Border Collie had when he was on 50mg of prednisone. It really was quite cruel to the poor dog and leaving a starving teenager roaming around the kitchen, can be dangerous. You just ask Barbie!
xx Rowena

Poem: Somewhere In Between.

Neither tall,

nor small

but somewhere in between…

my feet now touch the ground

though my thoughts are

somewhere in the clouds.

 

I look out my bedroom window

at the road which lies ahead

wondering how to get from A to B.

Do I really have to walk?

Why can’t I take a jumbo jet?

 

I don’t have all the answers.

Indeed, I don’t even know

which questions I should ask.

Yet, everywhere I seem to look,

all I find is rules.

Rules on rules on rules!

 

Be here!

Go there!

This is how to do your hair!

Living by this ringing bell,

has to be a form of hell!

 

Neither tall,

Nor small

but somewhere in between…

why can’t I just enjoy the view

before I grow too big?

23rd February, 2016.

 

My son was given an assignment this week to write a poem “Looking Through My Window”. He is about to turn 12 and has just started High School. I wanted him to see the topic from a different angle and that looking through his window could refer to what he sees as well as how he views the world…his perspective.

As it was, his poem came from another perspective entirely and he wrote from an imaginary point of view about a mysterious rabbit which he spotted out his window, which no one else could see. This rabbit took on surreal qualities and started glowing, combusting and then in the morning there was no trace of the rabbit at all. It struck me as being a bit Steven King but well done. I gave him a bit of help with punctuation but it was his own piece.

I am trying to work out a good balance on the homework front. Every kid and his dog is being tutored these days and I figured my husband and I are qualified enough to handle this. Geoff is one of those lucky few who are good at maths and English. My maths ability was never strong but after putting so much effort into my creative side, it fell into some kind of swamp years ago.

So, who does our daughter come to for maths help tonight? Ha! Yes, yours truly. Well, they’ve even changed the way you do subtraction since I was at school and so Geoff ended up giving the pair of us a Maths lesson.

I would have thought that being a poet would’ve automatically disqualified me from all of that!!

By the way, it was sweltering here today and I caught the dog lying in front of a small fan we had running to redirect the air-con into the bedrooms….just like many of you in the North must have pets in front of the fire/heater this time of year. I was very tempted to grab that sun today and stick it in an envelope and post it to you all…no returns. Yes, I know I’d regret it in the morning and the temperature is supposed to be much more comfortable tomorrow. It’s really been a scorcher today!

Anyway, all too soon, I’ll be complaining about the cold!!

xx Rowena

When Everybody’s Smiling…

Welcome to another Weekly Smile brought to you by the ever-smiling Trent at Trent’s World.

This week I’m posting a rare family photo taken on the first day of school last week. It was our son’s first day of High School and our daughter’s first day at her new school, which is some distance from home.

Note: everybody’s smiling! What an achievement!

The First Day of the school year is always a momentous occasion. However, with both kids starting new and different schools this year, it was huge. Not only in terms of growing up but also due to the huge amount of behind the scenes organisation required.  The proverbial duck feet were paddling like crazy to ensure the kids passed muster…at least, on the first day! This was akin to something of an archaeology dig. First, I had to locate and resurrect both the student and their stuff. Then I had to glue all the pieces of this scattered mosaic back together again. Surprise! Surprise! I actually ended up with a complete picture. Nothing was missing. Well, at least, on the first day!

That was really something to smile about.

Organization is a very conscious process around here and there’s nothing natural or automatic about it at all.

I blame “being creative” but that’s not going to help my kids pass muster… let alone succeed. So, I have to change sides. Develop an administrative brain or at least a hat I can take on and off.

Humph…the hat does sound like a great idea. As much as it’s good to be organized, too much of that could undermine my creative juices. Kill me off. Don’t want that. So, if my organization is a bit fluffy around the edges, so be it.

So, I am smiling that we all managed to get it together at least on the first day and look fantastic.

However, the main reason I chose this photo is because we’re ALL smiling.

Surely, we’re not the only family who struggles to get everyone smiling in the same shot…especially without any rabbit ears or funny faces intruding into the shot?

To that end, I should probably point out that the Headmaster actually took this photo. So, that could explain the good behavior. He’s also a very warm and friendly person, not at all like the Principals I had who inspired fear and terror, even when you were good…great for encouraging smiles!

Speaking of THAT School Principal, you should have seen how the station cleared out as soon as her blue Volvo was spotted on the scene!! Girls and boys fled to the four winds…including actor Hugh Jackman, I believe. He was our local heartthrob.

Now, seeing Hugh Jackman at the station would’ve brought a few smiles. You could say that “Hugh Spotting” was something of a local sport. Our area had a lot of single sex private schools, which created a certain atmosphere best left to the imagination.

That brings back a few smiles too!

Hope you’re having plenty of smiles this week and encourage you to find some more at the Link Up.

xx Rowena

 

 

Building Bridges Through A Game of Cards.

After parenting for awhile, you’d finally think you know what you’re doing.

Ha! Isn’t that the biggest joke!

As any parent knows, just when you’re comfortable and in the grove, the ground changes. They have another growth spurt. Start school. Get bullied. Become the bully. They have good days and bad days. There is no consistency.

You feel completely and utterly, lost, stumped, completely out at sea and …a bad parent.

However, no matter who you are, there inevitably comes a day when you kid gets stuck. The wheels stop moving and you, as parent, are called upon to pull out your magic wand and suddenly make everything better. You say a few abracadabras and tap your kid on the head three times but nothing happens. There’s not even a poof of smoke. You’re not sure what’s gone wrong. Perhaps, your wand is bent or the batteries are flat but, of course, you’ve lost the instruction manual.That’s if your wand ever had one. It’s amazing how few things related to parenting come with instructions, most notably, the kid themselves. Indeed, they arrived into this world with nothing at all but a scream.

Away, unable to get your wand operational, you’re stumped.

Your kid is stumped.

Hey, most of the time, even the professionals are stumped. That’s if you can get your kid to see any kind of professional. Chances are if they’re not moving, that’s the last place they’ll go.

Here’s a post I wrote recently about the misunderstood and hurting child: https://beyondtheflow.wordpress.com/2015/06/20/loving-the-misunderstood-when-kids-hurt/

Anyway, for many of us, Winter can be a bit of a downer. Mister has had a dreadful asthma cough, poor, broken sleep as well as some troubles with his stomach where he was seeing stars and vomiting for a bit. Of course, the Emergency Department had no explanation and there was the usual mention of a “virus”. He’s missed a lot of school and really was operating at half mast and it wasn’t depression either. At least, that wasn’t the trigger. That said, with all that going on, he was hardly doing the happy dance.

However, even though my magic wand wasn’t operational, I still had my bag of tricks. This is what I’ll call “experience”. Not just my own experiences but what’s worked for others as well.

As much as someone who is struggling can appear like a cactus and needing to be left alone, this can also a time when they cautiously need you to dig in. More hugs, not less hugs. Understanding, empathy, doing things together..even, perhaps, if the bedroom door is shut.

That said, you need a catalyst. Some way of making that connection and lighting that initial spark.

Well, believe me. I was looking. Looking…looking…Did I mention looking?!!!

I’m not saying that this will work for everyone or that this is going to work forever but I remembered that I used to play a lot of card games with my friends in high school. Both my parents were avid Bridge players who taught my brother and I how to play as soon as we were old enough.

Finally, I had that elusive “light bulb moment”! Teaching the kids how to play 500.

In addition to seeing it as something we could do as a family, I also thought playing cards is a good way to make friends. Moreover, being good at Maths, I thought he’d love it and our daughter also loves a strategic challenge. It is hard enough for anyone to feel good trying to get anywhere on their weaknesses and I thought playing 500 would bring out their strengths.

Don't you just love the hot pink of the macaroon mix?!!

Don’t you just love the hot pink of the macaroon mix?!!

So, after refreshing ourselves on the rules, we had a card’s night last Friday along with a range of scrumptious desserts made by Miss: Adriano Zumbo’s Raspberry and Chocolate Macaroons (packet mix but very good) and a Chocolate & Raspberry Surprise…a pizza made out of a firm chocolate ganache with “my precious raspberries” and a raspberry sauce on top. It was exceptional good and yet so simple and straight out of her imagination. I was stoked. Mister also made a Chocolate & Raspberry Fudge which was exceptionally high in sugar but very good as well.

My daughter's spectacular tower of macaroons.

My daughter’s spectacular tower of macaroons.

Our kids are 11 and 9 and although we had a lot of explaining to do about suits, right and left bowers, tricks and bidding, after a few open hands, they pretty much had the hang of it.

Well, that’s as long as you don’t count a mad bidding war between the two of them. We were playing boys versus girls. First, it was my daughter’s turn to go all out with the bidding, stretching it to 8 Hearts (note we can only lose 2 tricks). Unfortunately, we went down in a spectacular defeat. A hand or two later, our son repeated the crime, at least, making the score somewhat even. Neither of them enjoyed going down…a valuable life lesson!

We also had to teach them about “the poker face”.

If you are not familiar with 500, the Joker is the highest card and just let me say there was a certain amount of jubilation when the kids had the Joker. We’re talking about jumping up and down with ear-to-ear grins doing an extremely exuberant version of the Happy Dance. Definitely no mind-reading required.

This is also a good life-lesson. All of us need to learn the distinction between what’s public and private and that there are some things you need to keep to yourself. Given how people plaster all sorts of selfies all over the Internet these days, learning how to hold back is a valuable life skill.

Naturally, we are wanting to continue these card nights. Unfortunately, this is not as easy as it sounds, even though we’re all keen. There is always so much to be done! My real hope, though, is that the kids can teach their friends how to play and it’s something they can do together, beyond playing computer games. A way they can connect. With this in mind, we’re already planning to get a few families together to put the wheels in motion. I can’t wait!

I should just add that we are fairly involved in our local community. Our kids both do Scouts. We go to Church. We’re involved with the school. I’m even part of the local dog walking community. This gives our family this extra layer of support. We’re not parenting them alone and they also have also these beautiful outer layers of the onion…as well as our extended family. That means that as we head towards what is often seen as the tempestuous teenage years, that we have back up. We, and indeed they, are not alone!

I have to admit that I was jubilant when our game of 500 went so well and that I’d finally “done something right”! It’s so easy to feel like you’ve failed as a parent and that you’ve really lost your way but then all of a sudden, the light comes back on and the wheels are turning again. You might not always be all “happy family” but at least, you’re content!!

After all, so often relationships and people are not broken. The pathways just need a bit of weeding, maintenance or a new direction to reconnect. Relationships are a journey with ups and downs and twists and turns in the road…not a straight, level road!

Each day of our lives we make deposits in the memory banks of our children.
Charles R. Swindoll

I should also add that since my son fought off the virus and his cough has settled, he has also perked up a lot. That reminds me that as parents, we need to keep the faith and believe in the bigger picture and not get caught up in setbacks along the way which really can look like the end of the world.

We can never give up.

The one thing I haven’t mentioned, although I guess it is implied, is the incredible love I have for my kids and that connection we have. There is nothing else like it. Somehow, that love fuels my journey, even when I’m discouraged. During the terrible twos, I was told “tomorrow is another day” and that has also helped carry me though the rocky patches.

There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots, the other, wings.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Do you have any advice for parents facing the teenage years? Anything you’d do differently?

Love and loads of patience and courage for the journey,

xx Rowena

Loads of messy dishes: the sign of a great night!

Loads of messy dishes: the sign of a great night!

Crime in the Quiet Carriage.

Breathe! Keep breathing! Remain calm!

But I can’t. I’m wound up. Seriously agitated and my brain is rapidly heating up, about to reach boiling point. No amount of relaxation, mindfulness or psycho-babbling positive self-talk is working. A rapidly ticking bomb, I’m about to go off. No small explosion either. This is definitely way beyond a small or even a medium-sized bang and rapidly accelerating passed a big one too. We’re talking a nuclear explosion… right here right now at this very precise tick of the clock.

Stop talking! This is a quiet carriage!!!

Stop talking! This is a quiet carriage!!!

There must be worse crimes against humanity than talking in the quiet carriage but right now, nothing comes to mind.

Before you start thinking I’m the psychopath, just let me just tell you that I’m on my way down to Royal North Shore Hospital to have a long awaited MRI of my brain. My neurologist hasn’t ordered this test for fun or as some kind of high-tech photo shoot. No, you seriously don’t have an MRI of your brain for fun and there’s definitely not going to be any smiling for the camera either. As if being covered in a white sheet and shut inside a white plastic tunnel being bombarded with weird electronic noises isn’t bad enough, they’re jabbing me somewhere with a needle.

Having a brain MRI. Covered in a white, sheet you disappear inside a white tunnel. Get bombarded by all sorts of jalting, beeping electronic noises. jabbed and then you're free to go home...you hope!

Having a brain MRI. Covered in a white, sheet you disappear inside a white tunnel. Get bombarded by all sorts of jalting, beeping electronic noises. jabbed and then you’re free to go home…you hope!

They’ve jabbed me with THAT needle before. They jabbed me right in the head, injecting radioactive isotopes straight into my shunt. I tell you, I’m a veteran of jabs and I’ve survived brain surgery and chemo but that jab in the head has no equal. It involved absolute and utterly excruciating pain. I can assure you, there’s some now graduated medical student out there who still bears the scars of near crucifixion in their hands. I dug holes in his soft, polished flesh with my unkept but piercing fingernails.

So here I am getting on the train thinking about the pain, the possible outcomes and how I’m even going to make it to the hospital as I’ve spent the best part of the last month in bed and traveling for almost 2 hours is a huge undertaking in itself. I don’t know what’s going on with me. Either I’m dying, or I’ve finally succumbed to the dark side of the force. I addressed this in a previous post: https://beyondtheflow.wordpress.com/2014/10/27/terminal-cyberchondria-yes-please/

Maybe after this monster test is over, the sun will come out again and this will all seem like a distance dream. A black cloud mysteriously scudding across an azure sky which suddenly disappears like magic…a miracle! I’ll go back to my life of champagne and…My goodness! Who am I kidding? We all know real life is no commercial break!

Being such a long train trip, I’m expecting to makes serious inroads on Booker Prize Winner  Richard Flannegan’s Death of A River Guide. Given the intensity and chaos of the MRI plus trying to juggle the kids and all their activities, this train trip is bordering on a sacred journey. I so desperately need peace and quiet and a lot of thought went into choosing the right book for the trip as well. I’ve been flicking through a couple of books over the last couple of days trying to work out where to head next. I’ve read two other Richard Flannegan’s lately and decided he was a pretty safe bet and I was seriously looking forward to both losing and finding myself in a good book. A want which had transcended into something of a desperate need. A cry of the soul.

However, instead of finding myself inside the much anticipated and heavily sign posted quiet carriage, this place is  more like a crowded pub during Happy Hour or even a flipping circus with clowns…wild clowns. There is raucous chatter everywhere..even laughter. How dare they?!! Harlots!

Welcome to the Quiet Carriage!!

Welcome to the Quiet Carriage!!

Alright, so I exaggerate a little. While there was some loud chatter down the other end of the carriage, there was one particular loud mouthed foreignor talking four times as loud as your average Joe talking with his friends…a group of seniors in case you’re about to blame the insensitive youth of today. Unfortunately, I was sitting right behind them. I soon started thinking about asking them to be quiet and pointing out the quite carriage signs which were clearly signposted throughout the carriage. I also thought about talking to the guard.

However, a few of my friends have mentioned the maniacs in the quiet carriages. The so-called “Noise-Nazis” who have a nervous breakdown over the sound of even the slightest pinhead of a pin being dropped. I like to be classified as the “nice woman” and not one of THEM…even by these totally rude, self-centred strangers I’m never, ever going to see again. Instead of being the bad guy, I chose the stoic high road…to suffer in silence. Of course, I could’ve alerted the guard if I’d been more nimble on my feet. They have a special announcement recorded for the socially inept. It goes something along the lines of: “This is a quiet carriage…If you want to talk, move to another carriage.”

I did consider moving to another seat or even try the standard carriage but it was all too hard. There wasn’t another seat and I’m not that steady on my feet. I couldn’t risk trying to change carriages while the train was in motion, even with my walking stick in hand. So instead, I sat as still and as silent as a marble statue…fuming. Fuming some more. I could feel the flames burning in my head. Smoke bellowing out my ears. I was mad. Irate. Furious. This was pure, unadulterated train rage.

Grannies show an umbrella can also come in handy!

Grannies show an umbrella can also come in handy!

In retrospect, I should’ve just taken a leaf out of my grandmother’s book. She would have bopped the lot of them on the head with her walking stick and told them in no uncertain terms that they were in the quiet carriage. “Are you blind? Can’t you read the signs?!!” My grandmother was pretty handy with her stick. What’s more, if she’d bopped them, she would have gotten away it.  After all, she was just a sweet, little old lady. There would have been no court appearances and not even the shout of “guard”! They would have taken their punishment and zipped it. Shown a bit of respect.

Me, on the other hand? One strike of my walking stick and I knew I’d be dragged off the train by armed guards and loaded into a paddywagon bound for greener pastures.

However, in the end someone else stepped in and played bad cop. Yet, this lot of seniors proved themselves a real bunch of reprobates.  They might have zipped it for about 2 seconds, which for this lot even felt like a very pregnant pause, and then continued bellowing through their inbuilt megaphones. You wouldn’t believe it. One of their phones even started to ring and of course another loud voice starts booming throughout the entire carriage. It wasn’t just a case of hello and goodbye either…more of a conversation and as far as I was concerned, quite the life story.

As I said, I know there have been worse crimes against humanity than talking in the quiet carriage but at this point in time nothing came to mind.

After reading and re-reading the same line of my book a hundred times over, I gave up on my book and surrendered to the noise.

Finally, we all alighted at Hornsby Station.

However, as the saying goes, it could always be worse. Aside from country trains passing through, there are no quiet carriages on Sydney trains. You just had to put up and shut up and if you don’t have the luxury of a seat, you also enjoy the thrill of having your nose jammed in a stranger’s armpit as well.

Anyway, after changing trains at Hornsby, I’m now heading down the North Shore Line on my home turf.

By now, I think we’d already established that lady luck wasn’t on my side. Of course, I had timed my train trip to perfection. Yes, it was home time for the hundreds and thousands of noisy, smelly, sweaty school kids who all piled onto my train as it stop started down the line. By this stage, all hope of reading my book was gone. Instead, I became the observer. I must say teenagers intrigue me. Potentially much more fun than the seniors yapping on about their super on the last trip.

I occasionally used to catch trains like this when I was at school…an all girls school. I must have been a bit older than this crowd because we were always conscious of the boys on the train and this lot seemed rather oblivious or perhaps it’s just that they didn’t have Hugh Jackman on their train. We did.

There were no looks, glances or giggles. Each group was its own island surrounded by their own impenetrable shark-infested sea. Ironically, the groups were arranged boys, girls, boys, girls throughout the carriage in their different uniforms. It all looked very strange to me and I felt like I’d landed in some weird, foreign universe. Why weren’t these teenagers all talking with each other? Did all these same kids catch the same train every afternoon sitting in the same “reserved” seats never giving each other more than a sideways glance?

The only thing standing in between them all was different uniforms and yet aren’t we all one human race? You wouldn’t think so. That said, we all know men are from Mars and women are from Venus…even my 8 year old daughter. She and her friends have been “at war” with the boys at school a fair bit lately.

If I could’ve had my way, I would’ve introduced all these kids to each other and tried to build some common ground. Not to play cupid or to nurture teenage romance helping some self-conscious souls find true love, but rather to begin a diologue and cross a divide that starts with different uniforms and extends to gender, skin tone, class, disability and results in war.

If only the problems of the world could all be solved on a simple train ride to Sydney, the world would be a much better place!!

PS As soon as we arrived at the hospital, we heard the dreadful, tragic news that Australian cricketer Phillip Hughes had passed away after a bouncer hit him in the neck, stopping blood flow to his brain. Being a brain surgery survivor myself and being in this really intense state prior to my brain MRI, the news hit me seriously hard. Hughes and his family and friends were no longer strangers but part of our neuro community and I loved them all with my entire heart..especially Sean Abbott who just happened to bowl the devastating ball. I send you love from the  very bottom of my heart!!