Disco Knitter

My essay has been submitted.

I nearly lost my sanity, my marriage, and a finger, but it is done.

Tomorrow, I will pack, prepare travel documents, order a taxi, arrange vegetarian airline meals, run an easter egg hunt for 2 small children, and prepare a sumptuous repast for guests.

Oh, and tidy the house for the house sitter. Easy.

And do we choose our actions? Or are our actions determined by something other than our conscious mind?

This made my brain explode.

Then I watched this.

And then Mark sent me this.

So to sum up. Your brain can signal that you have made a decision (and which decision you made) up to SIX FULL SECONDS before you are conscious that you have made a decision.

And if you vote conservatively, you are likely to have an enlarged amygdala (the fear centre of the brain). If you are more socially progressive, your brain shows more growth in the area that seeks out new and novel experiences. So, correlation doesn’t show cause and effect, but it does go a long way towards explaining Alan Jones.

*For our overseas readers, swap Alan Jones for Rush Limbaugh. Or any other appalling aging white man with a microphone and an agenda to frighten and alienate.

You’d be surprised at the vast array of things girls can do without a penis my darling….

Perhaps it’s to early to be discussing sexism and the other horrors of the world? I’ve told him that Libyans are getting killed because they don’t like their boss, that Japan got a big owie and it might get a lot bigger, and that having a morals clause on permanent residency is just plain mean, but I am not sure that feminism is going to sink in, since he is still not exactly sure what the difference between girls and boys is.

Comments?

We’re off on Tuesday the 26th, and back on the 5th of May. We all have passports, and apparently I will be able to travel on my ticket despite the fact that my passport is still in my old name. We have Fiji dollars, we have sunscreen, and we have a small budget (Mark’s company will reimburse us for “expenses”, but I don’t want to bankrupt them with my daiquiri bill!).

Inigo asks every day, “are we going to Fiji today mama?”, and Bev and Ted have been showing him pictures of his father in Fiji at a similar age.

I’m not excited yet, because I still feel like it’s not real. It’s too amazing, and generous, and crazy, and I suppose I am still a little out of touch with reality.

I went to the neonatal loss support group at SIDS & Kids today, and consequently was a bit of a mess this afternoon. But there were women (and a man) there whose losses were a lot more recent than mine, so it was a positive experience to reflect on the rawness of their grief, and to realise that I really have come a long way in a short space of time.

Archie would have been six months old the day after we get back from Fiji. I’d be getting info about when to start solids for his adjusted age, and watching his gross motor skills develop in leaps and bounds. His curly hair would be doing its thing, and I’d be watching him get fatter and fatter week by week as I breastfed him, and breathed in his scent as he fell asleep in my arms.

Of course, if we had Aubrey too, the fantasy has a few more vomit stained tracksuits and a lot more screaming, but hey, it’s my fantasy…

We used up the last of Mark’s Birthday movie tickets last night (thanks Bev & Ted for babysitting), and saw “Suckerpunch” in Gold Class.

I had seen a few posters, involving chicks with guns, but beyond that I was clueless. Perhaps I should have taken a hint from the fact that we were the only ones in the cinema?

As we walked out, I said to Mark, “Well, the last time I saw a movie that incomprehensible, I think it was 12 Monkeys. But I enjoyed 12 Monkeys”.

In its defence, it did have great art direction. And the costumes were awesome, as long as you have no problem with the objectification of women.

As to the violence, much of it was implicit, and when we got home, we discovered that the film has a PG 13 rating. Far out. There is loads of violence against cartoon like characters, but all of the “real” violence is not shown on screen – just implied. Still not something I’d want my 13 year old to see.

Well, let’s be honest, I wouldn’t want my 13 year old to be watching anything so objectifying, unless it was to illustrate a point being made by Andrea Dworkin….

So yeah. A mars bar. Big deal.

Except. I am thrilled. Crazy happy.

The lecturer asked a question about what “type” of research each of the studies we are looking at for our essay question, and the winner was going to get a mars bar.

I had a stab at the question, got it wrong, and then used the work of another student as “shoulders”, did some more reading, and I got it right!

So yes, I won the mars bar, but more, I have the glory of getting the answer right, and the other 900 odd students didn’t.

I am still a child

Life really sucks today. A lot. Hence the preponderance of upbeat postings.

Just saying.

Wilbur and Angel

Wilbur and Angel are looking for a home. If you live in Melbourne, and are looking for the oddest couple of cats ever, let me know.

If it wasn’t for the fact that we are saving pennies for Fiji, and I swore never to have a feline in my life ever again, I would sooooo adopt these guys…

I first posted about the bread here.

Then here after I refined the recipe a little.

But now I’ve done a final re-jig to make the recipe work for me. I buy flour in 2kg bags, so I asked my maths man to do the numbers so I didn’t have to measure 13 cups of flour each time.

So now I use 2kg of flour, 4 tablespoons of bakers yeast, 2 tablespoons of salt, and 1.6 litres of warm water. Mix, and dump into a tub that will go into the fridge.

What I have found is that I can just throw a lump of dough into a bread pan lined with baking paper and it makes a nice dense, almost sourdough like loaf. If you like, you can also brush it with milk and scatter sesame seeds, caraway seeds, poppy seeds, or my favourite, nigella seeds on top before baking.

Or, you can work the dough a little, and leave it in the pan to warm up to room temperature before baking for a lighter loaf.

You can also use wholemeal flour, with exactly the same recipe.

And it makes wonderful french toast, and after a day, fantastic dippers for your baked brie. Recipe to come one day….

As I sit here on a Saturday morning, cuddling my boy in his pink t-shirt that he insisted on wearing to bed last night, I came across this. Via Hoyden.

Apparently a woman and her son playing with pink nail polish together (he’s five, his favourite colour is pink), is -exploiting young Beckett to advance the cause of “liberal, transgendered identity politics.” Whatever that is.

I can see this becoming more of an issue when the Squish goes to school. If his favourite colour is still pink in 2011, if I succeed in teaching him non-violence, if he follows both of his parents and becomes a nerd, a kid who is interested in life and everything around him, there will be those who will criticise and seek to undermine.

But I can’t see any way I can homeschool and go to uni…

Kris posted a link a while back to an article about an anti gay marriage activist who has changed his tune, and now supports relationship equality. Here is a link to a letter that was sent to him, that he quotes as being a turning point in his attitude.

Next Thursday, I am going to meet with my local federal MP about relationship equality. I am going to ask her to speak in favour of reform at the next ALP national conference. There are a few points I’d like to discuss with her, and perhaps you can help me to clarify my thoughts, and add some new ones?

° Marriage is the basic fundamental unit of our society. Marriage is the first step in building a family, and a family helps us to have the support and love that we need to be our best. Marriage provides stability, a framework for growth, an economic platform, and a framework for moral behaviour. Why should your choice of partner exclude you from the best that being a grown up has to offer? Why should any group of society be denied this basic human right?

° Not allowing people to marry is discrimination. The ALP recently removed all forms of discrimination, so that gays and lesbians now have no fear of discrimination on the basis of sexuality. Really? I don’t think so. If you can discriminate and say that a person can’t marry, and yet still call them equal, it’s hypocrisy. Equal means EQUAL, not “almost equal”.

° There is a distinction between civil marriage and religious marriage in the minds of many. To my mind, the distinction is irrelevant to most people who want a civil ceremony, but quite important to those who want to marry within the church. Since most opposition to relationship equality comes from a religious perspective, why not legalise civil marriages and let the religious debate take place where it belongs, in the church.

° It has been said that gay marriage de-values heterosexual marriage. It is my belief that the opposite is true, that gay marriage adds to the value of relationship recognition. When Britney Spears marries in Las Vegas and the marriage is annulled the next day, marriage is made a mockery. But standing beside my husband on my wedding day, it occurred to me that my marriage was meaningless until my best man (who just happens to be gay) won’t be able to marry the love of his life (when he finds him!) just because he is gay. What does my marriage mean in the light of the fact that my dear friends who are in every way just as committed, just as in love, just as responsible, just as wonderful parents, etc, what does it say about marriage, that my relationship is “worthy”, and theirs is not?

° It may not make sense to a lot of people why a happily married woman cares so much about this issue. But the truth is, it was my own marriage that sealed the deal for me. I met someone I adored, and wanted to spend the rest of my life with. We decided to make it official, and our silly, joyful ceremony amongst our nearest and dearest, and our fabulous party afterwards meant so much to me. It seems like such a callous injustice to deny this joy, this stability, this support, to anyone who sincerely seeks it.

Two years ago, a blogger proposed “Meatless Monday”, one day a week when omnivores should go meatless. Now the worlds largest food services corporation, serving meals in hospitals and universities, is adopting Meatless Monday.

So I don’t know if I’ll be able to watch the Royal Wedding (yes, I am that sad). But if I did watch, I’d want one of these just in case.

The Book Depository is running a competition to win a Royal Wedding Sick Bag!

I used to have a nifty bit of software called Blue Phone Elite, which allowed me to type SMS’s on my laptop and send them from my phone via bluetooth.

But then the developer went and got a real job, and stopped supporting it, which meant I never got it to work with my iPhone. Small price to pay for having an iPhone, but I was starting to show my age with my monosyllabic text replies.

“yes”, in reply to a younger friends “busy today? I have some time and it would be great to catch up, how about meeting up at the zoo, the kids will love it” was just bloody pathetic.

Now I can SMS at 50 words per minute, with no damn auto correct!

Thank you SMS Sender(free) and SMS Client ($2.49).

(picture is of my beautiful boy at the zoo today, waiting for the seal show to start)

After Archimedes died, doctors told me they were going to give me a pill to dry up my milk.

I asked for more information about the side effects of the medication (which include seizures, depression and heart problems – in retrospect, I think that I made the right decision, given everything else that was going on!). My file was marked “Refused Treatment”, and I was ignored after that.

Because I am a breastfeeding counsellor, I knew a Lactation Consultant, who reminded me to check the electronic ABA files I have access to. The ABA publish a booklet called “Lactation Suppression”, for when a baby dies or a mother is unable, or chooses not to breastfeed her baby for whatever reason, and needs to suppress lactation. I was able to log in and download a copy of this booklet from my hospital bed, and treat myself, after being punished by the hospital for asking for information.

At the funeral, I asked people for donations instead of flowers. It was my intention to use these donations to buy bulk supplies of the lactation suppression booklet, and to have them on hand in Sydney hospitals for women who found themselves in a similar situation to me. I also talked to my regional rep within ABA, and a few other contacts.

Well, my story got out. And today I was emailed a link to the ABA website where the lactation suppression booklet has been uploaded in full, for anyone to access. I feel a huge sense of relief, and I hope that if there are women out there who need the information, they are able to access it easily, and not have to suffer through what I went through.

My body was able to cry the tears of milk that should have been nourishing my babies. And now I need to find a new “mission” for the generous donations.

I did my exam last weekend, got the results this morning. 95/100, which sounds good until you know that it was an open book test – so I got 5 things wrong, EVEN WITH MY TEXTBOOK IN FRONT OF ME!!!!

I shall try to remain positive and good humoured, despite the large amounts of snot leaking from my face.

Count: 685
Average: 84.2
Median: 87.7
Maximum: 100.0
Minimum: 11.0
Standard Deviation: 13.22

See what interesting techniques I am learning….

I don’t think it is quite as simple as it appears in the video though, or I would be able to get Mark to do the dishes more often.

Thanks to Ruby, Kris, and Linda, we have exceeded my initial target of $100!

Last chance to donate, give a few bucks for people in need – only if you can. We’re already up to $130, thank you, thank you, thank you!

As a precaution after the accident last week, both Squish and I went to the physio. At first he was quite scared, but after I showed him a few of the bits of equipment, and opened up the curtains so he could see out, he relaxed a little bit. I told him that the physio was a special kind of doctor that knew all about muscles and joints, and that she wouldn’t do anything scary or painful. I told him that our physio is also a mama, and she knew how to be gentle with little kids.

Now he wants to know when we can go back!

PS. The car (Bernard) is fixed. We had a service done, and the rear brakes were pooped. Which means that it might not have been all my fault after all. But I was driving a car that had dodgy brakes. ARGH!