There must be a moral in this somewhere.

Here is the story I promised.

In order for you to understand it, you need me to set the scene a little.

It was mid- summer 1992. I was about 35 weeks pregnant with baby number three, but I was still working.

People would ask me why I hadn't left at the typical 34 week mark, but I replied. 'I've got two three and a half year olds at home. Here, it's air-conditioned and I get to sit down. Where would you rather be?'

That wasn't the only reason though. I had only just resumed my duties seven months before.

Yes, you do the math.

I suspect it had something to do with the fact that we'd gone out and bought ourselves a sorely needed new bed with my first pay cheque ... (koff nuff said.)

So, faced with the prospect of a new baby in seven or eight months and a house that was already too small for two toddlers and us, we had to make a decision. We either had to move - or extend the house.

We weighed up the pros and cons: we liked the house, it was a nice neighbourhood and our neighbours were great, so we decided to stay. So, instead of paying out 10 grand just for the act of moving house, we opted to put that money towards an extension.

If we did some of the work ourselves, we figured we'd be able to add a bedroom and family room, and to also re-jig the kitchen/dining area into a more family friendly layout.

It was still going to be a huge drain on finances, current and future. I'd not been working, except for a brief locum, since the boys were born, so things had been tight for a while. But we decided to bite the bullet and increase the mortgage.

So for the next six months, every cent I earned was poured into extending the house. I honestly don't know how I juggled it all, now that I look back at that time. But each day I'd come home from work at around three, relieve the child carer I'd employed and, once the boys were down for the night ( say at about 8ish), Vaughan and I would do whatever jobs needed to be done in readiness for the builders the next day eg painting etc.

My days were compartmentalised to the nth degree: working, family, building, sleeping.

I recall we were painting something late one night and we realised it had been our Anniversary that day.

I said. 'Oh It's our Anniversary! You didn't get me anything, did you?'

To which he replied 'No, you didn't get me anything, did you?'

Me: 'No. Well that's good then.'

Him to me 'Happy Anniversary. Hand me that paintbrush.'

End of conversation.

Now we fast forward to where the story really starts,

I needed to make some curtains for the new bedroom, so that we could finally move in. A friend at work offered to help me make them, and since I'm no sewer, I was eager to accept the offer.

With our tight schedule, I had to choose the curtain material after work and that meant taking the boys with me.

This was my first mistake.

One of the department stores in town was having a sale on curtain material and hardware, so I parked as close as I could get - about two blocks away - and trooped in. Now I should point out that this department store does not have an elevator - being very old fashioned - and the curtain section was on the second floor. I admit that if the sale had not been so very good, I would have said, sod it, I'll go somewhere else.

But I was watching my pennies and the next store was even further away from my car.

I don't recall how I managed to get the twin stroller up the stairs. I think I might have unloosed them and let them clamber up the stairs, then popped them back in at the top.

That was fine for Chris. He tended to sit quietly anyway. Nick was another matter. He hadn't been diagnosed with ADHD at this stage - that was still another 4 years away. But he was VERY active this day and didn't take kindly to being strapped back into the stroller At. All.

I recall seeing him straining at his fastenings, grunting 'Nick.... off... Nick.... off.' which in Oz is not a polite thing to say. I had to tell the shop assistant that his name was Nick- and that he wasn't telling someone to 'go away'.

I decided to let him loose for a while, since there were no other customers about, and I couldn't concentrate on ANYthing with him carrying on like that.

And that was my second mistake.

Before I knew it, he was trying to climb a cushion mountain and about to tumble off. So it was Mum to the rescue - as usual.

Unfortunately he wasn't prepared to go back in the stroller quietly and fought me the whole way - so I gritted my teeth and finished the transaction as quickly as I could, while trying to hang onto a squirming child.

I'm sure that the sales staff wished me in Hades at this point.

Then we had to get ourselves back down stairs.

What a procession that was!

Nick and Chris were both crawling backwards down the stairs, bums up and heads down. I came next with bags of things. Then two sales assistants descended: one with the folded up stroller and the other carrying the curtain rod.

At the foot of the stairs, while I was setting up the stroller, Nick darted behind a jewellery cabinet with an open sliding door. He shoved in his hand and grabbed a bracelet box - which neatly slammed shut on his fingers, clam style.

Boy, did he yelp - and then shook it off.

Served him right too. He got no sympathy from me, I can tell you.

But I was beyond embarrassment by now. I just wanted to get home.

Now please remember that I was very pregnant - and my brains were pretty mushy by now - plus it was stinking hot outside.

We left the store in the late afternoon heat. Chris sat in one side of the twin stroller, the curtain paraphernalia was loaded in the other side and I pushed it along while trying to hang onto Nick's hand.

I had an idea that help might be at hand if Vaughan, who worked at a bank about a block away, could be spared. I figured it was worth a try anyway. At this point I had little to lose.

We headed in the direction of the bank, and Nick (the little scumbag) suddenly broke free as we approached the pedestrian crossing. A lady passer- by (to whom I will always be grateful) grabbed him as he flew by, preventing him from darting onto the road.

The lights then changed and we all crossed together, but no sooner than we were on the other side than Nick saw the bank's sign just ahead and dashed off again. The woman looked at me as if to say,'Do you want me to go after him again?' but I said. 'No. I know where he's going this time.'

Thankfully I was right. Nick screeched to a stop outside the bank - and I drew up moments later and politely tapped on the glass door. Vaughan came to the door straight away.

Unfortunately my long shot didn't pay off. He couldn't be spared. It seemed that I was on my own.

I remember making for a potential shortcut that would bring me out closer to the car park, but only if I didn't cross at the lights. Crossing properly was beyond me at this point. I simply picked up Nick and tucked him under my arm, then pushed the fully laden stroller (Chris and curtain rod) across the road, right through the tyre store that backed onto the car park - and didn't pause until I'd reached the car.

I remember puffing and blowing as I stuffed the two of them into their car seats and almost karate chopping Nick across the tummy to get him to bend in the middle. I can still feel how my glasses steamed up from the heat and the pure stress of it all - and lastly, I recall sitting in the driver's seat, looking at my flushed face in the mirror and wondering if I was about to go into labour for my troubles.

I don't remember how I got us all home safely, but I did - although I think it scarred me for life.

However, it was not all bad news. My friend sewed the curtains for me the next day and I put them up straight away. We all moved bedrooms too, and the baby's room was finally ready to go - which was just as well, because less than a week later, I did go into labour - at work.

But that's another story.

Random notes

My boys turned twenty-two last week. On the 13th September to be precise.

We went out to dinner to a local Mexican restaurant to celebrate. It was Nick's choice. Chris didn't join us, but we arranged a birthday cake for him at his group home on the day, which he would probably enjoy more than eating out any way. He's not much of a one for lingering over a meal. He prefers to eat and then go home immediatetly.

Me? I like to chat.

Andrea and Rob, her fiancé, joined us and we had a very pleasant meal together, even though it was a miserably cold night out. It might be the start of Spring here now, but there was snow in the air that night.

Believe it or not, Launceston has two Mexican restaurants. See! We do have some culture after all. We're not all Bogans. (US equivalent: Red necks)

Now that Andrea has a regular job, she's been saving up to buy herself her own car. She found one last week and it only cost her $600 because it needed some work done on the engine. It's a 1999 Hyundai wagon and it's in great shape in every other respect. Rob and his father are both petrol heads, (unlike the men in my life - sigh) and they reckon it will be worth 6 grand when they're done with it. She seems to have gotten herself a very good bargain. Lucky girl.

Now all she has to do is find time to get her licence, which currently is easier said than done.

That will mean that the el cheapo '87 Mazda 626 hatch that I bought for her and Nick nearly two years ago for 'learning to drive' purposes will be taken over solely by Nick - once he has HIS licence.

I know. I know. This shouldn't be taking two years....

Anyway, he's going to re-sit his driving test next week and in anticipation of a better result this time, I finally had the front guard that has been crumpled since Jan 09 fixed. (There's a bit of a story that goes with that, but all I'll say is that it involved a badly botched three-point turn, too much speed and an unfortunately placed tree.

Anyway the car has been fixed now, thanks to a retired panel beater who lives nearby. It only cost a couple of hundred dollars to have a 2nd hand replacement guard ($60) fitted and spray painted. While he was at it he fixed the side mirror on my car too. Frankly, this fellow is a gem and I plan to put him on speed dial. I have a terrible habit of backing into things, you see - not recently, mind. But it doesn't hurt to be prepared.

Oh. This week was a big week for my nephew, David Ward, too. He is an actual, honest-to-goodness playwright - at the grand old age of 19. His play is called Sand, and it premiered in Geelong this week. He wrote it, co-directed it, stars in it and received a substantial grant from a local Arts Council last year to stage it.

He wants to go to Drama school next year, possibly NIDA in Sydney or WAPA in WA. I'm confident he'll do really well for himself if he can get in too. (Mel Gibson's alma mater is NIDA)

I wish I could get over to see it, but the timing is all wrong for me, what with my trip and all.

It was a bit of a family affair actually. His father did the sets and his mother ( my sister) the costumes. Since it's set on a desert island and only has a cast of three, I guess that's not too much of a stretch.

Nevertheless I'm a very proud aunt.

Now in exactly one week I will be heading off to Italy. I'm starting to get really excited. But amidst that I'm very conscious of what could go wrong too - but trying not to dwell on it.

I've just organised myself a tour in Florence that will include the Vasari corridor, which is in the Uffizi gallery. Apparently it's really quite special. Watch this space for details, I guess.

I do plan to keep a diary of sorts while I'm away. I'm not promising that I'm going to post it, but I will make an effort to record the details and upload pictures when I can get to a computer.

During my preparations I found a trip diary I wrote during a holiday to the UK 25 years ago. I was surprised how many hidden memories it triggered. (And it wasn't badly written either, if I do say so myself.)

If I can do the same this time, I'll be pretty happy.

_________________________________

Next time I want to tell you a true story that came out of the boys' birthday reminiscences.

It involved a stinking hot Summer's day, a twin stroller, an old- fashioned department store, a heavily pregnant me, a five foot curtain rod - and a hyper-active 3 and a half year old called Nick.

You could say it was a recipe for disaster.

Nick tells me he doesn't remember any of this.

I'll never forget it.

Time for a little catch up

It's been a while since my last blog - weeks in fact.

Quite a bit has happened since then though.

First off, my very talented writer friend Carolyn is soon to join Lori in the ranks of published authors. That is fantastic news and she deserves every bit of success it brings her. Unlike the subject of my rant a few blogs ago, Carolyn has paid her dues, worked on her craft and is well - just an astonishingly good story teller.

She and Lori are inspiring me to finally do something with the story idea that has been on the back burner for three or four years. I think its turn has come around at last.

I can hardly wait to get cracking - just as soon as I finish my current WIP

Now the second thing. I'm going to be on the telly! Seriously! One of my old stroke patients has had a near miraculous recovery after two years of being unable to swallow anything at all - even his own spit. Now this is pretty unusual since most stroke patients do recover some if not all swallowing ability fairly quickly - especially after my tender ministrations lol, since this is a large part of my job.

But this fellow' was unusual in that it was only his swallow that did not come back. He never gave up hope though and something happened that mean I could send him to someone who deals with really intractable cases and - long story short - he can now eat and drink again. His life is suddenly worth living - and I'm going to be interviewed alongside him.

We weren't expecting a TV item out of this. I had presented his story at a recent study day and we'd thought it could make a good news story for the hospital and our department. But that quickly exploded to a 'Why don't we offer it to the ABC TV?' scenario. There is an outside chance it may get picked up nationally. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The gent in question is a real character and he will make good TV, so the focus will most definitely be on him. I only have to be on hand to supply some technical information.

'I'm ready for my close up now Mr de Ville.' lol

It's all happening next Friday and will go to air the following Friday. So I guess it's a case of watch this space.

Items three and four happened on the same day - last Thursday

After having his learner's permit for an indecently long time, Nick finally went for his Drivers test. I had to take him - and then wait while they went out on the road.

I know I was nervous, and considering the number of ghastly (and admittedly uncharacteristic) mistakes he made in the kilometre we had to drive to get there - ie not using his mirrors, straddling lanes, failing to signal a turn and obey a green light, I figured he was nervous too.

So I sat in the waiting room for half an hour, trying and failing to read a magazine while I waited for the test drive to be over.

It didn't go well.

He didn't tell me anything more than he'd failed until later that night. I still don't know the third thing he missed. Apparently he botched a right hand turn against the lights, and then failed to give way to a car at a stop sign. I guess the instant fail was when the assessor had to grab the hand brake, eh?

Funnily enough, the assessor said that he drove better once he knew he'd failed. I guess the pressure was off then.

The way the rules work over here is that he has to wait 28 days before he can be retested - and that makes the earliest he can do it the day before I leave the country. This is not good timing, since it will mean I have to leave early on my last day at work.

I really hope he gets it next time, (the nerves shouldn't be so bad then) otherwise he will have to rely on a) his father. b) his push bike, or c) public transport to get around while I'm away. And of course he won't be able to meet me at the airport when I come back either.

In the meantime, we need to give him as much road practice as we can. In some ways I'm really frustrated that he hasn't had a fire in his belly to get his licence before now, but in others, I'm kind of relieved. He has ADHD and he can be quite impulsive. Maybe it's a good thing he wasn't on the road earlier.

Anyway later than night, while we were still trying to get over the stress of the afternoon, I had a call from Chris' group home. They'd had a power black out and the battery operated emergency lighting was shrilly and constantly proclaiming that the battery was low.

It sounded like a horde of mozzies... and apparently it was driving Chris and another autistic resident ... well, not to put too a fine point on it... nuts. They were calling to see if I could take Chris home for the night as they had no idea when the power might come back on - and if the buzzing would stop then.

This pretty much capped a shitty day all around.

Nick was out of sorts, having stuffed up the test and Chris was agitated, being out of his usual routine. When he's like that, he asks for reassurance/ confirmation/ clarification, oh about every five minutes.

As you might imagine, it's very wearing.

'Yes, you're staying here tonight, Yes I'm taking you back tomorrow morning, Yes you're still coming home on Saturday, Yes, you can go on the computer again on Saturday... now please go to bed!'

Oh one last thing, I watched the movie Three coins in the Fountain last night. It was wonderful to see the Roman and Venetian sights through the eyes of a cinematographer in 1954. I bet some things will have changed a lot, and others hardly at all. My Italian classes had paid off too. I could understand bits and pieces quite well.

I'd also forgotten how gorgeous Louis Jourdan and Rossano Brazzi were back then. Sighh

My baby moved out of home

It's official. My baby has moved out of home.
It wasn't an actual day I can mark on my calendar. It wasn't done with any fanfare, or even after a row, but it has happened nonetheless.

Oh, and she considers herself to be engaged... at the age of 18 and a half. She has a proper engagement ring and all, which her boyfriend gave her on the one year anniversary of their being together. She doesn't plan on getting married until she's 20 or so though, she reassured me.

Of course her room here is still hers - and will remain so until she no longer wants it. But since the end of last year, she's gradually spent more and more time staying over at her boyfriend's place (at his parents' house to be precise), that it has reached a point that I can no longer claim her as a dependent.

She's been giving his address as hers for a while now... and when the Tax dept and Medicare know she's moved out, it's time to make it official.

We had a perfectly civilised conversation about it last time she was here and we agreed I needed to let Centrelink ( Oz' social security) know that she was no longer in my care.

Since the last school holidays in May, I've been lucky to see her even once a week, although we often chat on FB ( Not to go off on a tangent, but I really don't get how young folk prefer to keep in touch this way!)



Anyway I was surprised how hard it was to make that call. Both physically and emotionally. I put it off for about three days, before I could bring myself to tell them.

It didn't help that the faux human switchboard and I just couldn't work things out. (Grr I really hate the way they 'work') But when I finally reached a human at the other end of the line, I got an honest- to-goodness lump in my throat as I tried to tell him that the two of us had kind of drifted to this point, and that she no longer lived at home with us.

Anyway, the operator - an older man, judging from his voice - said, quite sensitively I thought."Yes, but she'll always be your daughter and you'll be her Mum." and I was able to take a deep breath, bite the bullet, grit my teeth etc etc and say, OK let's say the 30th June is the 'date' she moved out.
A few keystrokes later and it was done.


I don't know why I'd resisted the acknowledgment for so long. Maybe I harboured a hope that this relationship would run its natural course and she would move back home - and things would go back to normal, but that's not how it's played out.

Instead Andrea and Rob have made a commitment to each other - and how can I complain about that? He's a decent country lad, and he adores her.

Plus it's a lovely ring. He clearly has great taste both in women AND in jewellery.

But she seems settled and very happy - and really, that's all any parent can want for her child.

I may not be totally thrilled about the path they took, but I also know that if I had tried to stop her, I would probably be seeing even less of her now.

Rob lost his grandfather last week. The funeral was today. Andrea offered to move back here for a while if he wanted some space to grieve with his family, but he told her that would make him even sadder if she wasn't there.

She stayed... and she held his hand at the funeral. It was her first.

She told me she felt like a 20th wheel, since she hardly knew anyone there. But she was there for him.

I guess my baby really is growing up.

Planning for my Italian adventure.

It might still be four months away, but I'm starting to get really excited about my trip to Italy.

I've got most of it booked and all I have left to do is find myself a hotel in Rome for one night (near the railway station), arrange my travel insurance, and decide which museums in Florence I want to pre-book ( to miss the queues). Oh... and pay for it.

I wish that the money haemorrhage would stop though. Nick is looking at needing some Root Canal work and ...get this, I copped another fine from my trip to Melbourne!

My speed camera violation (not to be confused with the parking ticket that I managed to get waived) attracted a fee from the hire car company itself - an admin cost FOR the same speeding ticket.
The speeding fine and admin fee work out ot be about twice what the parking fine was and earned me three demerit points against my licence too! Aaaagh!

But I'm not going to dwell on that. I want to share my holiday itinerary so far. Feel free to turn green with envy.

I'm leaving on Grand Final Eve ( that's for Aussie Rules followers) 24th Sept at around 10 pm. I plan to take some heavy duty drugs and sleep for the first leg of the flight which is about 13 hours. The second leg is only 6 hours and gets us into Malpensa (Milan) in the early afternoon.

I'm hoping that I get through customs etc quickly and that I'm in a fit state to travel, because I plan to get the train into Milan Central station and straight out again to Venice. I'm told that arriving there by rail is quite spectacular. I only hope I'm awake enough to appreciate it.

I've booked and paid for two nights accommodation right in the centre of Venice. The best travel advice I've been given is to do a quick tour of the must sees in Venice: San Marco Piazza, the Doge's palace, the Bridge of Sighs, the Jewish quarter etc - but then get out of the main tourist areas and to simply start wandering. To get lost, in fact. Yay! Something I know I can do. The next day might involve a trip over to Murano island - to check out the glass making- and perhaps buy something pretty.

I have to be back in Milan on the 27th Sept, so that I can get myself out to the airport to meet up with Martha and Sue and Dave) and the rest of the party traveling with from the US with Fr Villa. He is a priest who has worked in the Vatican and regularly runs these tours from the US for his parishioners. I reckon he will know some great places to visit. I've made contact with his local agent already and she's given me her mobile phone number so we can meet up at the airport before they touch down.

I will be spending the next 9 days with this group. There will be somewhere between 30 and 40 people in it. I should mention that I'm neither Catholic nor particularly religious, but I figure it's hard to be in Italy and avoid either, and if I'm going to attend at least one Mass in my life, why not make it at the Vatican?

This part of the trip has been arranged already and we will be staying in some very nice four star hotels and traveling around by bus. Most of the meals and entrance fees etc have been arranged. We are hoping to see 'The Last Supper' while we're in Milan, as well as Milan's Il Duomo and La Scala! I'm sure my head will be spinning with so much culture and history.

We'll be spending a few days in the Italian Lakes district and our hotel rooms will either overlook Lake Maggiore or the Swiss/Italian alps! I hope I don't have to choose! How could you? They both sound divine.

We'll take a few days traveling to Rome via Romaggio, Portofino and Pisa. Rome will include visiting the Catacombs, the Vatican and eating in a restaurant on the old Appian Way. Sue and Martha are very keen to take a day trip to Florence from Rome - more for the leather shopping than for the art galleries, but that's ok with me.

I'm kind of tempted to hire a Segway scooter thingy there, but I might chicken out on that - and concentrate on the shopping instead.

We will be parting ways on the 6th Oct. Martha, Sue and the rest will return to the US and I've arranged a two day/one night bus tour to Naples/Sorrento and Capri for myself. That will be as far south as I go, but I'm really looking forward to seeing the Amalfi coast, Vesuvius and Pompeii. I mean, you can't go to Italy and not go to Pompeii!

We will be quite late getting back to Rome that second day - This is the night I need to book still. Since I want to take the train to Florence early the next day, somewhere near the railway station might be smart. I'll be in Florence for a three day/ two night stay, where I want to go to the Duomo and its bell tower - and climb them - all 400 steps each, the Uffizi gallery for Botticelli's the Birth of Venus, the Galleria della Arte for Michelangelo's David, the Medici tombs AND take a half day Tuscan cooking class.
I only hope I can do them all - or at least some of them.

I've actually booked the cooking class and I suspect it might end up being the highlight of the whole trip. Imagine learning to cook a four course Italian meal in an 800 year old Tuscan farmhouse, eat it outside overlooking the fields and olive groves and drinking chianti...and not having to worry about getting yourself home again, since the transport is provided.

Bliss.

My last port of call will be in the tiny town of Vernazza in the Cinque Terre and I have booked myself a single room overlooking the sea. I'll be spending two nights there and plan to walk the tracks between the five villages - or take the little train that tootles between them - or eat lots of gelato and drink too much coffee - and take a squillion photos of the gorgeous coloured houses clinging to the cliffs.

More Bliss.

That will be my last night in Italy. I will take the train back to Milan in time to catch my flight home via Sydney. Like the other flight, it will leave late at night and there will only be the one stop. We fly into Sydney at pretty much sparrow's fart (approx 7:30 am) but I won't get home-home until mid afternoon on the Friday 15th October.

In spite of the messy return trip, it sounds pretty good doesn't it?

As well as saving up frantically for the trip, I've been making other preparations. I've got my luggage/equipment sorted out and I've been listening to a CD that is teaching me some simple Italian vocab. I've also signed up for ten week Adult Education class called Italian for Travelers that starts in three weeks and will finish two weeks before I go. How cool is that?

I can't believe how well it's all coming together.

As I said at the beginning, I'm really starting to get excited about it. This is my first solo holiday for a very long time. In fact, I met the ex on my last one. That was on a South Pacific Cruise in 1980. lol

Hmmm. Once bitten ....

Random notes - plus Teeth, Hair and Toenails.

This is going to be a bit of a random post.

The first thing I wanted to mention was that my parking fine in Melbourne was waived! I received the letter letting me off the hook on Thursday.

Whoo hoo!

I'm going to take it as a sign that my recent money haemorrhage is about to stop - or at least slow it down to a trickle.




The second thing is that my Italian trip planning is coming along in fits and starts.

I've now booked my domestic flights, and I'm about to buy a Eurail pass that will allow me to travel between the major Italian cities.

On the down side, finding decent accommodation has been tricky. There is a lot of very expensive stuff and a lot of very cheap stuff too. I'd be happy to find something midrange.

Basically I have to decide whether to:
1) Go through the travel agent and pay a premium, but know that I've definitely got something before I go. Of course with my sense of direction, if it's not next to the railway station there is a fair chance I'll never find it.

2) Book my own accommodation from the squillions over the internet - and hope that my bookings are honoured, that I'll be able to find the place - and that it isn't a total dive. (I've discovered that internet reviews are HIGHLY variable)

3) Take pot luck and find something cheap and close to the railway station when I arrive. But I have to confess that would be my least preferred option.

Anyway, this week I want to finalise some of my day trips. The cooking morning and the Segway tour in Florence are still my front runners. So too, is a little trip over to Murano from Venice. It all sounds quite gorgeous doesn't it?



The last thing I wanted to share something I wrote for Chris' school's 'Sponsor a Child' programme. As some of you know, he is on the autism spectrum. He has been attending an autism specific school here in Tasmania called Giant Steps since he was 8 years old. The school had a shaky start and endured some tough times for the first few years. This project was one of the ways interested individuals, service organisations and family members helped it survived those lean years.

Several times a year the parents are asked to write a short piece about their child's recent progress or something to do with the challenges of living with a child with Autism. This is the latest one and I chose to write about the challenges of haircuts, toenails and teeth. You'll see why when you read it.



Teeth, Hair and Toenails.

As with many individuals with Autism, Chris’ five senses are wired quite differently from yours and mine - and that can make very ordinary sensations quite extraordinary to him.
Looking back, we can now see how his reactions to certain sights and sounds were ‘not quite right’, even as a toddler.

One of my most vivid memories was when he was chuckling in his car seat while we drove past a long avenue of trees in the late afternoon. Hindsight tells us it was the setting sun’s rays strobing through the trees, but at the time we had no idea what was amusing him so much.
Something else that gave him great amusement was lying on his back on a sunny patch of carpet and blowing raspberries into the air. We would hear him laughing at the way the spray sparkled in the sunlight.

Some years later I watched him lift up his shirt and tickle his own bare tummy with a feather – and giggling at the sensation. It wasn’t until much later that I realised what a feat that was. (Try tickling yourself- it’s impossible.)

However, along the way we learned that not all sensations are so pleasant for him. There are noises that we would barely notice, which distress him so much that he clamps his hands over his ears and drone loudly - simply to block out the other noise. He avoids hard foods because he can’t tolerate pressure through his front teeth – and this also makes teeth brushing a chore. His preference is for bland tastes; he has never really taken to cakes, fruit or lollies – which is probably good for his teeth in any case.

Over the years we learned that simple acts of grooming, such as cutting his hair or toenails were enough to send him into a blind panic. That was why desensitising him to haircuts was one of the very first challenges we tackled at Giant Steps when he started there as an 8 year old.

Over the first few months there, he learned – snip by snip and lock by lock- to tolerate the feel and sound of the scissors on his hair, until he could endure an entire hair cut. He may never totally enjoy a haircut, but nowadays he will sit quietly in the chair and let the hairdresser do her work – even though his shoulders still tend to creep up towards his ears as she cuts.
Getting him to let us cut his toenails without sustaining a hernia was a real challenge and is still chancy at times. His feet are very ticklish and it is only on a good day, that he will let me hold his foot without wriggling and squirming enough to turn us both inside out.

The latest personal hygiene hurdle was going to the dentist. Ever since we changed dentists a few years ago, she has been working on getting him relaxed enough to let her actually properly examine his teeth. Up until the change nearly two years ago, getting him to stay in the dental chair was a massive task and he would tolerate a dental mirror in his mouth if he held it himself. Six months ago, and with the help of some medication, he relaxed sufficiently to lay back in the chair and let the dentist gently brush his teeth.

This week her patience and our perseverance finally paid off. Chris allowed her to fully inspect his teeth with her pick and let her brush his teeth with her high speed tool – and he did it without medication. He still tried to sit up a few times and needed quite a bit of reassurance from me, but at least he let her finish!

He was so calm that the dentist feels her dental hygienist can now take over the task and we will return in three months for another clean.

I’m sure there will be more such challenges over the years, but each step forward - no matter how small - deserves to be celebrated.

Cheryl

I must be crazy but...

Well, I've done it! I booked myself a flight to Italy yesterday!

How come? I hear you ask.

Well, I was invited to join Martha (FS) and Sue (Suberbabe) and the rest of a party of US tourists in Milan, spend a week with them touring the Northern lakes and Western coast of Italy and Rome in September - and after I saw the itinerary, could hardly stop myself from drooling.

Imagine a lakeside hotel with views either over the Italian alps or the lakes, a hotel in Rome with paintings on the ceiling that is barely 400m from St Peters, or cruising to an island in the middle of Lake Maggiore!

Sighh.

How could I say no - and to such lovely ladies?

Since this means I'd have to fly half way round the world ( the flight is about 25 hours) , I decided to make it more worthwhile by spending a further week there and seeing more of this incredible country.

My tentative plan for my extra week takes in the Amalfi Coast (Sorrento and Pompeii), Tuscany (Florence and the Cinque Terre) and Venice.

I must be crazy. Right?

Remember my last blog entry? The one where I got lost in Melbourne - which is a mere 500 km away, where they speak the same language as me?

This is the woman with no sense of direction, no knowledge of Italian past what you might find on a menu or dredge up from some schoolgirl Latin (and we're talking nearly 40 years ago now), a hatred of big cities - but a love of all things Renaissance, thanks to my HSC European History teacher, Miss Gibson- and a very BIG tendency to unwittingly attract disaster.

Yup, that's me.

But I'm nothing if not game. And I have dreamed of visiting Europe ever since high school. When my marriage broke up I feared I'd never have the chance. But I intend to regard this trip as tentatively dipping my toe in the water of international travel for three weeks. If it goes well, I might decide to go to France or Switzerland next time around.

On the other hand, I may never leave home again.

I've only booked the international flight so far. The domestic flights and the land content are yet to be organised for my solo week. The week with the touring party only needs to be paid for. (Like that will be any easier)

It's gradually starting to hit me what I'm letting myself in for. There are so many decisions to make between now and then, such as -

How do I manage to strike a balance between seeing as much as I can, or relaxing and soaking up the atmosphere ( ie food and amazing scenery) without missing out or running myself ragged.

Do I want the freedom/flexibility to travel independently- which knowing me, could be tricky- or should I bear the higher costs and tight scheduling of organised tours since I'm on my own - in the interests of personal safety and having someone to have dinner with?

Should I opt for budget options like Youth hostels or B&B accommodation and a Eurail pass, rather than pricey coach trips and nice hotels, so that I can spend my limited cash on the actual sightseeing?

Hmm...as 'Deep Thought' put it. 'Tricky...'


So after some very determined armchair traveling in cyber space, these are the things I've decided to see that are NOT negotiable:

1 Il Duomo in Florence,
2 The Birth of Venus in the Uffizi and the statue of David at the Galleria della Arte.
3 The Cinque Terre and
4 Pompeii.


Everything thing else is just gravy. I must add though that I was really tempted with two 'different' tours in Florence

One is a small group cooking morning, where participants prepare a four course Tuscan banquet in the home of an Italian chef. It starts at the markets in the morning where the produce is selected and ends with eating the food we cook.

Frankly I'm drooling at just the thought of it.

The other tour is a three hour Segway tour around the city, checking out the various monuments. That could be a lot of fun - and be a bit easier on my feet than pounding the pavement all day.



Anyway I'm feeling optimistic that this whole trip will be fabulous. I just hope it doesn't beggar me. LOL

Now I think I better find some internet sites that will teach me some survival Italian. Does anyone know how to say, 'Excuse me I'm lost'?