Archive | September, 2013

Maybe it’s Daniel’s

30 Sep

On the outdoor glass topped table in Grandma and YaYa’s back yard sat a colourful ball of thin yarn, attached to a knitting needle by way of a newly started scarf.

As Daniel sat on my lap, his eyes immediately darted towards the colourful ball, prompting him to throw himself towards the table top in a failed attempt to grab the mesmerising yarn.

“No buddy, you can’t have that,” I told him.  “That’s Grandma’s and you’ll ruin her knitting if you grab it.  Or maybe it’s YaYa’s.”

He looked at me, his eyes glistening with cheekiness, “or maybe it’s Daniel’s.”

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I like

28 Sep

Daniel: “I want to watch Thomas on the TV.”

Me: “No, you don’t wan to watch TV all day, you like to run around.”

Daniel: “And stop. And run again.”

Me: “Yeah, run and stop and run and stop. That’s fun.”

Daniel: “And pushing buttons.”

Me: “You do like pushing buttons.”

Daniel: “And playing pirates. AND TACKLE YOU!” He said as he ran towards me like a steam roller and jumped on me to knock me over.

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Minnesota

27 Sep

I’m back.  Actually, I’ve been back for 3 days now, but the first day I was so jet lagged that just trying to stay awake was difficult, and the other two days I was busy playing with the kids and catching up on house stuff and university work.

Hannah had all these plans of fun things to do with Aaron while I was away, but she was sick almost the entire time.  The first night I arrived and FaceTimed (video chat on the iPhone) with them, I could tell just by looking that she wasn’t well.  She only ended up being able to do one thing from her list.  Then when she started feeling better, Aaron got sick.  And then when he started feeling better, Daniel got sick.  Someone was sick the whole time I was gone.

Lucky for me, I didn’t get sick.  I was able to savour every moment there.  I sat at the breakfast bar in Jennifer’s house when I ate my breakfast, reading something or watching something on my iPad whilst enjoying a whole cup of tea.  Jennifer and I were able to take our time when we went shopping and not have to worry about kids running off, having tantrums, or anything of the like.  We got to hang out, talk, watch movies, and make wedding decorations  without interruption.

But I missed them so much.  I wanted to reach through the phone and give them a cuddle every time I saw them.

I had a great time in Minnesota, catching up with Jennifer, whom I haven’t seen in almost 5 years, and seeing my mom and dad, grandma and grandpa, two of my aunts, and even Jennifer’s dad, whom I haven’t seen since I was about 12 years old.

Jennifer’s wedding was absolutely beautiful.  Her dress was the probably the prettiest wedding dress I’ve ever seen, and the reception looked stunning, but more importantly, was very fun.  I danced for about 4 hours and clocked up over 20,000 steps on my fitbit, the most I’ve ever done in a single day.

Now I need to get over my jet lag, catch up on my uni work, finish unpacking and try to make a whole raised garden bed before it’s too late for spring planting.  I don’t think that last one will happen in time, but I can hope.

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Oh, and if you’re like me, and get constipated when you’re travelling, or away from home, I have found the cure!  On my third day over there, I went for a morning run with Jennifer.  usually my short runs are at least 3 kilometers, but I had to walk and squeeze after only 1k so I didn’t poop myself.  I went for another run the next morning and from there on out, I was fine.

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The big trip

11 Sep

Tomorrow, I have a test.  The very first one for my Food Science class.  I’ve been studying, making notes, and trying to ingrain all the stuff we’ve learned so far into my brain.  I also have a group assignment due for my Quantitative Thinking class, which is my online, “external” class.  In the internal version, the groups meet up and work out the math problems together.  They even have to take minutes during their meetings and submit them with the assignment.  But online?  We can’t do that.  We don’t live near each other, or have any sort of face to face contact.  There are 5 people, including myself, in the group.  Only one other person has bothered to check the group discussion board to get the ball rolling on the project which is due next week.

5 days ago, I wrote on the board that we should divide up the work, then put it on the collaborative file, check each others work, and then turn it in.  We have to turn it in as one.  We are supposed to have a group manager who takes on the turning in and filling out the cover sheet jobs.  The other girl wanted to get started but didn’t want to be manager or be responsible for dividing up the work, so I took charge, divided it all up, and am now crossing my fingers that the other three will actually do their work.  I would be manager, but I’m going to the U.S. on Friday. By myself.

Yes, BY MYSELF.  As in no kids.  No Aaron.  All by myself.  Aaron will be at home doing Daddy daycare whilst I fly to Minnesota for my cousin (who’s more like my sister) Jennifer’s wedding.  Can you feel my excitement as you read this?  Did I mention I’m going by myself?  Don’t get me wrong, I love my family more than words can convey, and I’ll miss the like crazy, but I’ll be able to go to the bathroom with the door shut and no one will bang on the door and scream because they want to be where I am.  Who am I kidding, I don’t even shut the door anymore, it’s just easier to leave it hanging open so the kids can come in while I do my business.

I can drink a cup of tea without having to put it up high in between sips so curious hands don’t burn themselves.  I can go to the shops without having to constantly tell anyone to stop running off, stop touching everything, stop jumping in the cart, stop trying to jump out of the cart, stop throwing things, stop sitting on the groceries, etc. etc., followed by tantrums on the supermarket floor with everyone looking at me.  I don’t have to worry about mountains of laundry and dishes, toys everywhere, poopy nappies, or overnight wake ups due to teething or a blocked nose for 11 whole days (including the flights).

I had grand plans of finally finishing the book series I’ve been reading for the past two years, but never get time to sit down and read, watching movies on my iPad or the screen on the back of the seat in front of me, or even catching up on sleep during the plane ride.  Instead, I’m going to write my orange juice report for food science. Maybe I can do all the leisurely things on the way back.

So if I don’t write for a while, it’s because I have a test, an assignment, an international flight, and then bridesmaid duties.

And all the while, I’ll be missing Aaron and the kids like crazy.

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It’s time to talk about “boat people”

5 Sep

On Saturday, Australians will flock to the polls in droves, casting our mandatory votes to decide who will be our next Prime Minister.  A while back, Kevin ’07 was voted in, then Julia threw him out, then got she properly voted in, then Kevin threw her out.  It’s hard to keep up.  It’s seriously like a bad soap opera.

Both of the major parties are using “boat people” as a platform to gain votes by competing for the title of who will have the harsher stop the boats policy.  What exactly are “boat people?”  Those who arrive “illegally” by boat, usually rickety, old, I-can’t believe-it-actually-made-it-here type boats.

A boat full of refugees. Image courtesy of SBS

A boat full of refugees. Image courtesy of SBS

I say “illegal” because, guess what? They are not illegal at all.  Since Australia signed the UN Refugee Convention, genuine asylum seekers have the right to enter our nation of plenty however they can, with, or without documents.

Boat arrivals only count for a small portion of immigration in Australia, and of that small portion, there is only a very tiny percentage of actual illegals – those who are not genuine asylum seekers.  In comparison, over 50% of those claiming asylum who have arrived on valid visas are found not to be genuine refugees.  I’m not going to bore you with too many numbers though, I want to talk about the refugees.  Not the numbers, statistics and cold hard facts, but people and circumstances.

Aussies seem to have this preconception that refugees who come by boat are queue jumpers who deserve to be turned straight back around or locked up in detention centres.

No one stops to think about where they came from or why.  We don’t often hear the stories of desperation, but that’s what the issue is all about – real people, with a really desperate need to flee from where their home countries.  Real people so desperate for safety that they sell all of their possessions in order to pay a people smuggler a ridiculous sum of money to be transported in a rickety old boat to a nation where they won’t be shot at, raped, terrorised, tortured, or persecuted.

I’ve met a few refugees in the last few years.  A 21 year old girl from Iraq told me how her 6 year old brother was shot in her mother’s arms.  They don’t know which side the bullet came from, but it didn’t matter, the innocent little 6 year old boy died.  The terrified family fled to Australia so they wouldn’t lose any more of their children. Can you imagine watching your SIX YEAR OLD child die of a gunshot whilst you held him in your arms?  Wouldn’t you want to do everything in your power to protect the rest of your children from that same fate?  Isn’t it your duty to protect your children?

Another friend told me about her experience as a “boat person.”  She said that she had no idea the boat would be old and rickety, or that she’d be wading out to it in the middle of the night under the cover of darkness.  The people smugglers sell it to you as a comfortable, cruise like experience, at least they did back when she came here.  Once she arrived (and after seeing the boat she was to travel in, she thought she’d die on the way), she was held in a detention centre for two years before being assessed as a genuine asylum seeker. 

Whenever I read comments on articles in favour of refugees being admitted to Australia, there are always way too many comments saying things like “they’ll turn this into a muslim country.”  I’ve met refugees from Africa, Iran, Iraq, and Afghanistan, and not one of them is a muslim.  I don’t know why people seem to think all refugees are muslims.  Even if they are though, so what?  Who are we to say someone who is fleeing for their life can’t come in to this country because they are a muslim?  We have many different religions here, accepting refugees isn’t going to change that.  Besides, apart from the few extremists, Islam is a peaceful religion.  There are crazy extremist Christians too, just look at the Hillsboro Baptist church (the ones who picket funerals with signs and yell stuff like “God hates fags.” Terrible.)  There is a reason they fled their home country, they are not about to turn this country into one just like like it.

One of the refugees I know told me that there are actually a lot of Christians in Iraqi villages, most people just don’t realise that because you don’t generally walk around asking people in a muslim country what religion they are.

Other comments I see frequently describe refugees as dole bludgers.  From what I’ve seen, this can’t be further from the truth.  Refugees have seen heartache, death, and devastation.  They know Australia is a second chance, and they embrace that chance with both hands.  They use the opportunity to study to be doctors, nurses, lawyers, open their own businesses, or get a job.  And they are grateful.  Often they work while studying.  They don’t just sit at home, squandering their second chance.  They are an important part of our society.

Asylum seekers, those by boat especially, are incredibly desperate to get out of their situation in their home country, fleeing for their lives, and that of their children.  How can we turn them away?  How can we send them back to die or be persecuted?  How can we send them to Papua New Guinea, where over 50% of females are raped, the crime rate is high, poverty is high, and refugee support is low?

I’m not saying all asylum seekers should jump on boats, that is an incredibly dangerous journey to take, but where is the compassion for those who do come in that way, often because they can’t get here any other way?

What if Australia was invaded and suddenly became a war torn country, with terror, persecution and death amongst civilians common?  Would you not take your kids and flee to different country as fast as you possibly could?  Then what if you got there, after a harrowing, death-defying journey, only to be told that despite signing the UN Refugee Convention, they’ve decided they don’t actually want any refugees and you have to turn around and go right back to where you came from?

If you enjoyed reading this, please vote for my blog. All you have to do is click the link below. That’s it… Clicking the link brings you to the Top Mommy Blogs home page. You don’t have to do anything else. Any clicks from my site to theirs is a vote.  THANKS!
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Copyright 2013 Sheri Thomson

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