Millionaire Mums and Dads

Does anyone else out there get the feeling that our kids think we have bottomless pockets of cash? I am not one to burden kids with financial worries and I hate telling them that we simply cannot afford to do something. However, I really do wonder if many kids are getting used to getting everything they want and whether we are feeding the ‘buy it now’, ‘spend on credit’ way of life for the future the way yeast feeds on sugar.

For example, the kids are coming over for their holiday break. I asked them what they would like to do. Let’s examine the responses: Go on the skyrail, go-carting, shop for lego, everyone go out together for a meal in a nice restaurant. What happened to fishing, riding bikes and swimming?! When did we lose the delights of FREE FUN?

Let’s face it. I’m no better. If ever I have cash in my wallet (in doesn’t matter how much), and I go to the mall, it may as well grow wings and fly out as fast as I can get my purse open. It doesn’t matter how little or much I was planning to spend. It just dissolves into a sea that I’d like to call ‘Retailtopia’.

Again, we took the kids to a 3D movie last holidays, grand total, $70.00!! I nearly fell over. I’m looking at the kids like, ‘you know this means we can’t eat for another week’ and all they do is ask for ice-cream and pop-corn.

I’ve heard that the only way to become rich is to spend LESS than what you MAKE. HA! Does this person have kids? Do they understand the pressure of guilt? Don’t they know that we all want our kids to have EVERYTHING we didn’t have?

So, in this case the symptom has created the disease. We try to give them everything that maybe you would expect from a millionaire mum and dad, but in doing so, we sabotage our financial sanity. I just can’t wait to be a grandma and hear my kids complain about the bloomin’ space ship that they have buy to send their kids to the moon for a summer vacation!

How corny was that?

Ketchup

Well, I mean catch-up. It’s time for a good one, I believe! Ok, so this year, I am not going to get any blogger awards, and I feel sorry about that. It seems like the way our lives are yo-yoing around, there hasn’t been time. But that is just an excuse, and really I am doing myself a disservice as I find this quite therapeutic. So, there you have it, proof that blogging is really a self-indulgent exercise.

So, where in the world is the Jackson family, well, right here, in Lake Tinaroo, of course! Yes, Roy and I, after some hardship and heartache, took a risk, a leap, a giant step into the unknown and came up to Far North Queensland in May for work. We live in an area inland from Cairns called ‘The Tablelands’. Now, I’ve always professed to love Queensland, but my dears, this place is truly heaven!

Our arrival here was quite sudden. We were struggling to find good work or any work in Maryborough, our first intended ‘forever’ kind of place, but nothing seemed to be going our way. We contacted the department of education and found out there was two teaching jobs going, way up here, so Roy and I packed up, quickly, and headed off, leaving Honey with his parents (who now live with us). Now we only lasted about a week before we had Honey and Diana (Roy’s mum) shipped up to be with us, but it was a very big deal.

I suppose looking back, it was all meant to be. We had one plan. God had another. A door opened, we went through. We’ve since moved the whole family, Roy, myself, Honey, Roy’s parents, Roy’s grandma, one three-legged dog and two cats here to our new little patch of paradise. Yes, two are missing, but hopefully not for long. Caleb and Amelie are here during all the holidays and are planning to move here at the end of the year.

So, we are not where we started, we are not where we went, we are here. Lake Tinaroo. To be fair, we don’t actually work in Lake Tinaroo, but it’s worth the 30 minute drive. A place, a magical, heavenly place, still very much a secret to the rest of the world is our home. Stay tuned!

The Luck of the Irish

Yesterday was St Patrick's day here in Australia. And while it is not as big of deal here as the USA or Ireland for that matter, Roy and I still enjoyed heading out to an Irish pub for a meal and a drink together. I had the day off and we also wandered out to the local markets and bought some of the farm fresh produce that is so readily available here in Queensland.

It was an uneventful day and despite the worries we've been having over finding permanent work I felt that we were settling in to life here and enjoying some of life's little pleasures again.

Later that evening, I wanted to try out a new recipe for bruchetta that I had made at school with a cooking class. Roy had gone upstairs to watch a movie and Honey was playing around in the kitchen with me. After enjoying my 'meal for one' and observing a mess that Honey had made on the carpet, I decided to do a quick vacuum.

Diana (Roy's mum, who lives next door in our granny flat) had come over to say goodnight and have a chat. I pulled out the vacuum and began attacking the mess on the carpet. It was a rather deep pile rug and I bent down to move the power head a bit further over the worst of the mess. I had both hands on the metal rod of the vacuum.

The next thing I know, I feel a strange tingling in my arms and realize that electricity is pulsing through the rod of the vacuum. My hands were contracted onto the pole and I could not let go. I started to scream hysterically, not even aware that anyone is in the room with me. I lifted my knee to try to push the vacuum out of my hands, but just feel the electricity jolt into my knee. I'm still screaming like a banshee. My mind is spinning. I can't believe this is it. I know I'm going to die. I don't want to die. I picture my body failing, my fingers exploding.

Suddenly, it stops, as unexpectedly it starts. Diana had the presence of mind to pull the cord from the wall. I smelled burnt skin. I looked down at my left and saw my hand has been burned around my wedding ring, but everything else seems to be fine.

Although, I knew I was now ok, I was in shock and cried all the way to the hospital. They all said the same thing, "I'm lucky to be alive."

I guess its a good thing I'm Irish.

Need I say more?

I think this photo might sum up the kind of day I've had today. I don't know if there is a measuring stick long enough to measure how hard it can be to be a relief teacher (substitute teacher).

At the start, the class eye you with suspicion and then there is a quiet calm as they lull you into the belief that this might actually be a 'good class'. What is really happening is they are using their super human child brains to size you up, calculate your weaknesses and ready themselves for the pounce. The pounce is a strange chain reaction sequence that begins its ripple affect slowly at first, and then bam, they all start popping like kernels in a fry pan. One after the other, their true colours show as they begin attacking from all sides. You are thrown off your game. Your cool is going, in fact a nuclear disaster is in the making.

That's when the threats begin. You scramble to remember the names of the naughty ones and forget about the rest. Names go on the board. Bribes are promised for good behaviour which end up being a royal waste of breath. You just pray a sigh of relief that the principal walks past in rare moment of peace and quiet before the bedlam breaks out again.

By the end of the day, you get the out right "you can't tell me what to do!" You find yourself ready to wave the white flag. "Somebody rescue me!" The bell rings. Ahhh, you walk out. Smell the freedom in the air. Promise you will NEVER return to 'this' school, but yet another day and another dollar or so away, it begins again.

The Blogs that never were...

I may be accused of being 'slack' as I'm sure its been well over a year since my last post... I often think of writing, but that's as far as it goes. If I had been writing, maybe some of my post titles would have gone something like this:

Honey arrives!
The Big Boob Fiasco and Projectile Vomit.
Bottle Saves the Day!
The Catholic Experience.
The Never Ending Relief Job.
Rain, Rain Rain, Rain Rain Rain Rain...
The Adelaide Experience.
A Butcher Shop?
Yes, A butcher shop!
Sell, Sell, Sell!
Can't Sell.
Moving on, moving out.
"Just pray it wasn't the head gasket mate!"
Paradise at last.
Strange smells, noises and no towel rails!
Uh oh.
Now What??????????
Rain, Rain, Rain Rain Rain and MORE BLOODY Rain!
Fishing from Home.
Saying Goodbye. :(
Endless tears.
Turning a Corner.
Waiting and Reading.

So, there you have it, all the blogs I might have written.
I'll do better now, write better now, and maybe Roy will join me too. :)

Get ready to share in our crazy adventure.