Being Fearless.

Fearless. I try to remember when was the last time I felt fearless. When did I last hop out of my comfort zone, when did I last challenge myself? These questions also coincided with a Michelle Bridges video message in her 12 Week Body Transformation program so I am thinking about it a bit.

I had a conversation with a friend not so long back. She was saying how she drives in Washington DC and I commented that she was brave. She explained, “after driving in South Korea I can drive anywhere! I am fearless now.” I understood what she meant. When I was young I travelled around Europe on my own for a few months and I remember thinking to myself, if I can travel and get by on my own in a foreign country, I can do anything. So for a bit now, “fearless” has stuck with me in my mind and I am unable to stop thinking about it.

The term “fearless” also resonates as I watched my children this week go rock climbing. My oldest who enters into everything he does with care and precision unknowingly chooses the hardest wall to climb first. He thinks it’s the easiest wall because it’s the least tall, but little does he realise that it has an overhang so to make it to the top of that one you need to have a lot of upper body strength to pull up. He gets stuck and comes down.

He feels a little disappointed, I can see it in his face. That moment when you become disillusioned because something that looks easy is not in fact so. We encounter that all the time right? But he gathers himself together and lines up again for another try on a different wall. This wall is higher again but easier to climb and he makes it about halfway up. Then the height factor kicks in. He is frozen onto the wall and cannot move, he stays that way for an agonizing minute. What is going though his head at that moment? I would love to hear my 7 year olds reasoning. What makes him decide to keep moving up or come back to safer ground. I watch from below intrigued.

In the end with a bit of encouragement from Fletch he goes up! I am standing back, trying not to be the pushy one, wanting him to work it out for himself which for the most part he has. It’s a really good lesson for me as a parent. So much of the time it’s instinctive to protectively try to control what our kids do, the activities that they choose. I often ask myself, if I don’t loosen the reigns and give him time to think, how is he going to get the skills to problem solve and decision make for himself. Don’t get me wrong, every fibre of my being would love to have climbed up on that wall and tell him where to go step for step, but really what would this achieve? He touches the top, abseils back down and produces an ear to ear grin that can only come from satisfyingly achieving something done all on his own.

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Today brings no words, just a promise to myself to go back to the rock climbing centre and climb one of those terrifyingly giant walls to remind myself of what it feels like to be fearless and be able to produce one of those ear to ear grins to my kids!

An End of School Year Treat.

“Mum, how do you make a baby?” It’s hard enough trying to concentrate on driving the car, did he need to bring this up now?
“Well, it’s a very complicated process.” I tell him, hoping that that will be the end of it. No.
“But how, like HOW does it get in there?[my son in true American styles uses “like” a lot now]. Do you have to like, eat some bones and body parts to get them all growing in your tummy?”
“No dear, it’s more complicated then that.” I tell him that there are special boy parts and girls parts and when put together, they make a baby.
“What parts? Where? Is that what happens when you kiss?” By now I am digging my hole and it’s getting deeper. It’s quite dark down here. Someone, anyone, come and get me. If he asks me how they get the baby out I might just bury myself.
“Oh! look there’s Mcdonalds. How about we go get a soft serve cone as an end-of-school-year treat?”
“COOL!” Phew that was close.

Any recommendations on books to read to a seven year old? I was thinking there must be something more up-to-date then “Where did I come from”.

Today brings no words and maybe a library trip to see if I can find some suitable story material on where babies come from.

Cheese to Please.

Todays adventure is a four year olds birthday party. The venue is a place called Chuck E Cheeses. One of Hamish’s little buddies is having his party here and he is so excited. The boys have been bugging us to go ever since we arrived in the country. It’s advertised pretty hard on tv, complete with a catchy tune and promises of fun and games and prizes for everyone.

You see, it’s one of those entertainment and video arcade places. Where you win bucket loads of tickets, only to be rewarded with a plastic whistle or spinning top, which you paid $10 in machine tokens for and could have bought in a 200 bulk pack at a bargain store for the same amount of money.

But what can I say? The kids just love it and the games are even manageable for a 4 year old. It keeps them interested and running around crazy till they are all sweaty and red faced. Then they sit up for their party meals and the entertainment starts. Singing, dancing, piñata, a big mouse – “Chuck” I guess…

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Today brings no words and probably not the last trip to Chuck E Cheeses.

A Truckin Good Time.

When Hamish was two and a half, he would tell people in his broken english, “Going to Merica. See monster trucks and Batman!” Dylan has also had a fascination for Monster trucks from a very young age. He has been watching Monster Jam since he was two and it’s hard to believe that we are getting the opportunity to see the trucks and the drivers for real.

Just after Hamish was born, Fletch took Dylan to the Australian version of a monster truck rally. It was on the greyhound racetrack in Canberra on a cold, rainy sleeting night. There were no grandstands or even seats for that matter, so they sat in the slush and wet grass. Because it was wet there was not really much the trucks could do – they couldn’t get any traction to do any big tricks. In the end Fletch bribed three year old Dylan with a Batman monster truck shirt and they left halfway through the “show”.

Dylan when he was three, at the Aussie Monster Trucks

The day before the show it was raining all day here too. But as the day arrives the sun comes out – not a cloud in sight. What can I say? The trucks are the stars of the show. It’s soooo noisy. But we were prepared. I’d foraged through the hunting section of the local outdoor shop here (an adventure in itself), and found ear plugs for us. They do their races on the course until a winner is declared and then it’s free style time which is about doing as many jumps and tricks as possible.

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It seems that the sporting look to have at these meets is a mohawk or fauxhawk. Or a monster truck hat. This lady had both.

A fauxhawk under her Mohawk monster truck hat

Today brings no words, or fauxhawks for that matter.

A Conversation.

This is a conversation that took place a while back in Nashville.

Dylan: Mum, how old do you have to be to have a beer?
Me: 21 in America, 18 in Australia
Dylan: 18? Wow! That’s not very old!
Me: Well you are more than welcome to wait till you are 21, I don’t mind.
Dylan: No, I want one when I am 18… How do I get it on my face?
Me: What??
Dylan: The beard, how do I get it on my face?

There’s two totally different conversations going on here. Do I have to explain puberty already? I’d rather the responsible alcohol consumption talk, save puberty and shaving lessons for Fletch.

Source: someecards.com via Kym on Pinterest

 

Today brings no words, just a small glimpse into a conversation that will be coming much, MUCH later.