Hip Hip Hooray!

We celebrated a birthday this weekend.
Yesterday was Jessie's 9th birthday.
Nine years since this little dark curly-haired girl joined our family.

Of course I was expecting a boy. Mother's instinct and all. Was sure it was Lachlan we were about to meet. So this poor little baby girl remained un-named for many hours while we oohed and aahed and thunk a lot.

And we named her after my paternal grandmother, a beautiful kind woman who I have wonderful memories of. I wish my children could have known her. She was Jessie May.

...and this is Jessie Dian. (Dian from her paternal grandmother).

It was the day Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman announced their pending divorce. Funny, the things you remember.

But I do remember seeing that on the news from my hospital bed. One of the many delights of having babies. Watching television in bed. While people bring you food on a tray.

Should have had six babies.

And it wasn't long before the black curls became long blonde flowing locks.

Rapunzel, Rapunzel...


and she loved to dance.



and also pigs.

Two of the other great passions in her life...

pavlova...

... and lamb racks.

That's my girl.

A Tale of Two Olga's

Remember this beautiful Olga. She's a first class paid-up member of "Team RockWallaby", stepping up to the plate last year to foster this baby boy whose ungracious mother walked away from him with barely a backward glance.

This week we've seen the remnants of Tropical Cyclone Olga bring forth the most beautiful gift of all in the form of sweet, soaking rain.

Just over ten inches in total.

(Try to look past my obvious weed problem - minor technical hitch with the roundup spray unit recently). With Wallace driving the four-wheeler (roundup tank and pump in back), and me walking dragging the hose, my partner backed over the hose, pulling it from the tank, breaking the much needed "rhino-fibulo-elbow" thingamajig, causing much panic as roundup was pumped furiously from said tank, while I screamed instructions to shut down the bike. We now have quite a pattern of dead grass in front lawn. Never mind.

And so what a wonderful start to the year. A little different scenario to not so many weeks ago.

And most of Queensland has shared the joy. Hopefully New South Wales' turn is coming.

If you can't Beat'em...

After bagging Education Queensland and their innane policies regarding staffing models, I'm now being paid by them!

(Well, who's having the last laugh now!!!)

While one of our wonderful teacher aides at school takes a well-earned break for six months, I'm filling in three days a week. Now if you've ever doubted the level of chaos that exists in this house of a morning, throw in a mother with no natural Nigellability to make lunches, who's preferred dress code includes blundstones and faded jeans; two missing school hats; a slightly chewed library book; a very smelly lunch box; an over-tired preppie and we're talking some serious angst in this household three mornings a week!

And which of course leads us to the other four days a week which are now hell-for-leather, going gangbusters, clock-watching, buzzing like blue-bummed flies kinda crazy. Getting the picture?

But it's great! So far so good. The kids just love having Mum come to school with them. How long can this last! And our whole school is just full of these wonderful little sponges so eager to learn, to please, to soak it all up. They make you proud!

...and I'll show Education Queensland! This mum's not going to see her kids' education suffer through some ridiculous staffing model that suggests regional children are somewhat more dispensable in the education stakes!!!

Pass me that Soapbox

With Ms Gillard, Mr Rudd and our very own Ms Bligh constantly beating their own chests about education, NAPLAN testing, a national curriculum, safety nets and how single-handed they will tackle numeracy and literacy problems in our schools, I feel I need to add my opinion.

Here in Queensland, the "smart state", we have policies in place stating that 26 students are deemed too many for one classroom, ie the largest number of students in any one classroom will not exceed 25.

Keeping up?

This same policy that applies to city classrooms also applies to one-teacher schools such as ours. So if your school enrolment is less than 26 you will have one teacher only. As is the case at our school this year, with only 24 students enrolled, we are losing our second teacher. Our new principal (who has never been a principal before) will teach 8 year levels from Prep to Year 7, aged from 4 to 12 years (he has never taught the early grades before) in one classroom.

We're the "smart state".

Can anybody begin to explain to me how it is possible for one teacher to adequately educate 24 students in 8 year levels. In one classroom.

Mr Rudd, in his infinite wisdom, as he worked to boost the economy and revolutionise education, provided our small country school with a $250,000 new state-of-the-art classroom last year. We are using it as a library as we have no need for a new classroom, after all we only need one for all of our students. Ms Bligh, also bolstering our economy, and in the process running our state into the greatest level of debt ever recorded, also gave us a $50,000 playground. We tore down a perfectly functioning playground that our children loved, so QBuild could construct a new one.

We're the "smart state".

And now, as Day 8 approaches, the day when enrolment figures are uploaded, and our staffing allocated for the year, all we hear about is Ms Gillard's new pet project, the "my school" website. Whereby everybody can see the progress of a school, see the problem areas, and address them! Ain't that great!!!

These people aren't serious about educating our kids. Not up here anyway, because there just aren't a lot of votes to be bought in regional Queensland where these problems exist.

So while my youngest is given play dough to entertain her for the day, and my oldest is assigned work and left to work independently for the day, I will continue to be sickened by the politicians and their "political speak" about what they are doing for education in this state and country.

A New Beginning

This week saw the page turn on a new chapter in my life.

A childless chapter.

No more will I sit with my baby over a cup of morning coffee discussing the likelihood of Justine from Play School changing the colour of her hair again, whether Big Ted is Little Ted's dad, or big brother, whether when she grows up she'll just chase brumbies from Monday to Friday, then rodeo on weekends, or whether she'll breed cows as well as horses, or just horses.

I had my first trip to town in ten years on my own.
And I shed a tear.
Got about ten k's down the road when I looked in the rear-vision mirror and noticed the empty back seat. No "where are we now Mum?", no "can we play I-spy?", no "I need a wee!" Just a lonely grey leather seat.

And I know it's all for the best. I know they have to grow up. And I know she was ready for school. It's just the closing of a really special chapter of my life. I've loved having babies, watching them grow and develop, loved having them by my side. So just for this little while I'm a little sad that it's over. But I'll be sure to enjoy these next two years, before I lose my beautiful firstborn to boarding school!

Perish the thought!

It's All About the Kids

For quite some time, the kids along with two of their school-mates down the road, have been scheming some grand overnight camping adventure. And we could only stall them so long.

We did however manage to thwart their plans of camping on the edge of a mosquito-riddled dam where we would have beat ourselves black and blue swatting mozzies into the wee hours of the morning.


So the tent was erected not far from the house for the kids, allowing spoilt mums and dads to 'camp' as nature intended - showered, in clean PJ's, on a Sealy Posture-pedic in a fly-screened rooved establishment.


We still took the kids down to the dam for a spot of water-sports.







...and returned to a beautifully cooked rolled roast done in the camp oven in the coals. (obviously some time after this photo was taken). With accompanying potatos and sweet potato cooked in foil, the meal was divine.


Of course, twisters followed for dessert. Damper mixture pressed around a stick and cooked over the coals. After cooking, the stick is pulled out and sticky sweet syrup poured down the hole left by the stick. Who needs chocolate cherry torte?



And of course you can't have a fire without toasted marshmallows can you?



And here endeth our school holidays.
Sigh!

All in the Name of Art

As much as I dream of a more cultural existence, when it all boils down we're just not the arty type. When you spend 40% of your working life with your hand up a cow's bum, either fertilising her, flushing her or implanting her, there's just not a lot of room for flowery romance. But still, I can dream.

And so, I will ensure my offspring experience all forms of getting in touch with their artistic sides.







And if that means investing $3.95 in a bucket of chalk and letting them loose on one of the rainwater tanks, well so be it.

All in the name of culcha!