Showing posts with label childhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label childhood. Show all posts
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Guest Post - It Was All So Simple Then
Today Childhood 101 is featuring my guest post - why don't you pop on over - there are even pics of me when I first became a Mum. Childhood 101 is my eldest daughter's blog - their are 3 generations in my family now blogging my Mum, myself and my eldest daughter - how cool is that?
Monday, June 29, 2009
Childhood 101- What Do You Think
Take a visit to Childhood 101 and check out my eldest daughter's blog. She is currently talking about the African philosophy of how it takes a village to raise a child and making child friendly communities - she would love to you stop by and leave a comment plus there are lots of photos of my little munchkin out and about in the world.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Reading
One of my most favourite things is to read, I don't get as much time as I used to and sometimes now I am just too tired to concentrate on a good book, but when I am in the mood or when I have a particularly wonderful book, I can lose myself for hours in the story. Many a time my hubby (and kids when they were younger and living at home) have spoken to me and I just don't hear them - that is how completely I am absorbed by what is unfolding. I remember when the kids were little and I had no time to read during the day I would often sit up until 1 or 2 in the morning just to get a book finished.
I have always loved reading, as does my mother and all 4 of my children and it seems both of my grandchildren. My eldest daughter recently blogged about Immy's love of reading and books. I love the fact that the time I took when my children were little to stop and read to them instilled a love of reading in them too. From the time they were little I read to them pretty much each day and each night at bed time. It got harder when I had 4, but each little one got a story and the older ones were allowed 15 mins of reading time each night before lights out.
Each of my children couldn't wait to get to school and start to read, the first thing they wanted to do when they got home was their reading homework, and they had such a sense of achievement as they moved through all the different levels of reading books. While it takes time in your busy day, it is such a worthwhile investment.
I have fond memories of all 3 of my girls tucked in my Mum's double bed when my son was just a baby and Poppy perched on the side of the bed reading them Wind in the Willows. They would get a chapter each time we went to have dinner.
Most recently I have started to read some of the classic books I loved as a child/teenager again - and I am currently reading a 1915 copy of Dear Enemy by Jean Webster. Got the book on eBay from America - it is in near perfect condition for a book that is nearly 100 years old. It is still as funny and enchanting as it was all those years ago.
I have always loved reading, as does my mother and all 4 of my children and it seems both of my grandchildren. My eldest daughter recently blogged about Immy's love of reading and books. I love the fact that the time I took when my children were little to stop and read to them instilled a love of reading in them too. From the time they were little I read to them pretty much each day and each night at bed time. It got harder when I had 4, but each little one got a story and the older ones were allowed 15 mins of reading time each night before lights out.
Each of my children couldn't wait to get to school and start to read, the first thing they wanted to do when they got home was their reading homework, and they had such a sense of achievement as they moved through all the different levels of reading books. While it takes time in your busy day, it is such a worthwhile investment.
I have fond memories of all 3 of my girls tucked in my Mum's double bed when my son was just a baby and Poppy perched on the side of the bed reading them Wind in the Willows. They would get a chapter each time we went to have dinner.
Most recently I have started to read some of the classic books I loved as a child/teenager again - and I am currently reading a 1915 copy of Dear Enemy by Jean Webster. Got the book on eBay from America - it is in near perfect condition for a book that is nearly 100 years old. It is still as funny and enchanting as it was all those years ago.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
I Am Good and I Am Enough
I Am Good and I Am Enough - strong and powerful words, words of self acceptance and strength. Words I need to live by.
As mentioned before in previous posts, I have had issues with my father and his attitude to me (and maybe girls in general) and as I have said he is probably not even aware of how I have felt and feel and I no longer have the will to confront him face to face as peace is what I crave most in my life now. What annoys me most is that even though I tell myself it is dealt with, up it pops to show me how wrong I am.
Case in point :
Today during my kinesiology appointment with Simon we found some of my shakras were blocked and childhood thoughts of not being good or enough seem to be the focus of the blockage. So we worked to clear them. Part of the clearing process involved Simon placing his fingers on my forehead and me repeating silently to myself that I Am Good and I Am Enough over and over again. While doing this flashes of childhood memories popped in and out of my conscience.
One particularly troubling one was an incident that happened while still living with my father in Mt Lawley. We had a neighbouring family that we used to pop into see, the boys were a lot of older than my brother and myself and well into their teens if not early twenties. We used to play with their chooks and collect eggs - that sort of stuff. One of their sons was mentally challenged and being a child at the time I not sure what he suffered from.
Anyway, this day he invited me into his bedroom to look at some books, so being a trusting child I went with him. The books were actually soft porn - probably something like Playboy and before I knew it he had exposed himself to me and asked me to kiss his penis. Now there was no way I was going to do that so told him no and went to leave but he was between me and the door and long story short he masturbated in front of me. Now I at that point didn't know what masturbation was so thought he had done wee. That was all that happened, I wasn't traumatised at all, just thought it was yukky and so when I got home told my parents because it didn't seem right that he should wee in front of me.
Now I don't remember the exact words my father used, but it felt like it was my fault, that I had done something really bad and really naughty and that I couldn't be trusted. He rushed me to a doctor (not our family doctor but a stranger) who examined me in a way that was way more traumatising that what had happened. Obviously he was checking to see if I had been molested in anyway and I know that my Dad did it for the 'right' reasons, but Dad that wasn't the right way at all taking me to a doctor I didn't know like you were ashamed of me when I had done nothing wrong. I was an innocent child approached by a boy with problems who never touched me and I did the right thing and said no and told you. But Dad even if you if had the best of intentions this memory even now upsets me more than you will ever know.
I Am Good and being a girl is Good Enough and always will be.
And to my children please don't judge your grandfather by what I write here, these are my issues and my memories and by reliving some of these I believe that they will make me stronger and healthier. It is not done to belittle your grandfather he is who he is and he is happy with who he is and so be it.
As mentioned before in previous posts, I have had issues with my father and his attitude to me (and maybe girls in general) and as I have said he is probably not even aware of how I have felt and feel and I no longer have the will to confront him face to face as peace is what I crave most in my life now. What annoys me most is that even though I tell myself it is dealt with, up it pops to show me how wrong I am.
Case in point :
Today during my kinesiology appointment with Simon we found some of my shakras were blocked and childhood thoughts of not being good or enough seem to be the focus of the blockage. So we worked to clear them. Part of the clearing process involved Simon placing his fingers on my forehead and me repeating silently to myself that I Am Good and I Am Enough over and over again. While doing this flashes of childhood memories popped in and out of my conscience.
One particularly troubling one was an incident that happened while still living with my father in Mt Lawley. We had a neighbouring family that we used to pop into see, the boys were a lot of older than my brother and myself and well into their teens if not early twenties. We used to play with their chooks and collect eggs - that sort of stuff. One of their sons was mentally challenged and being a child at the time I not sure what he suffered from.
Anyway, this day he invited me into his bedroom to look at some books, so being a trusting child I went with him. The books were actually soft porn - probably something like Playboy and before I knew it he had exposed himself to me and asked me to kiss his penis. Now there was no way I was going to do that so told him no and went to leave but he was between me and the door and long story short he masturbated in front of me. Now I at that point didn't know what masturbation was so thought he had done wee. That was all that happened, I wasn't traumatised at all, just thought it was yukky and so when I got home told my parents because it didn't seem right that he should wee in front of me.
Now I don't remember the exact words my father used, but it felt like it was my fault, that I had done something really bad and really naughty and that I couldn't be trusted. He rushed me to a doctor (not our family doctor but a stranger) who examined me in a way that was way more traumatising that what had happened. Obviously he was checking to see if I had been molested in anyway and I know that my Dad did it for the 'right' reasons, but Dad that wasn't the right way at all taking me to a doctor I didn't know like you were ashamed of me when I had done nothing wrong. I was an innocent child approached by a boy with problems who never touched me and I did the right thing and said no and told you. But Dad even if you if had the best of intentions this memory even now upsets me more than you will ever know.
I Am Good and being a girl is Good Enough and always will be.
And to my children please don't judge your grandfather by what I write here, these are my issues and my memories and by reliving some of these I believe that they will make me stronger and healthier. It is not done to belittle your grandfather he is who he is and he is happy with who he is and so be it.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
More Childhood Memories
Going to Yanchep National Park's pub for Sunday sessions with my Grandma Grace, Grandpa Jim and Mum and Dad - back in the days when Perth pubs weren't allowed to open on Sundays, but country pubs could and Yanchep was far enough away from the CBD to count.
Spending a least some time every year staying on Rottnest Island with my Uncle Bert and Auntie Min and Mum and Dad. Even went to the little one room school on the island for 2 weeks when we went mid school term. Stopped going when Mum and Dad split up.
My step dad helping me down from a tree I had climbed - never had children of his own, but a better father for sure - thanks Pop.
Going into town on Friday night's after school to meet my Grandma Win and have fish and chips at the Railton, over the road from her office.
Going to North Perth Primary - a very multi-cultural school in the 60's - I had friends who were Italian, Dutch, Greek, Latvian, English, Scottish and Aboriginal as well as the Aussies ones. Gave me a chance to accept all races just because that's what kids do.
Getting dropped at school in a taxi (Grandma on the way to work would drop us off) - very posh.
Walking home from school on really wet days with no shoes on and jumping in puddles and getting soaked to the skin but loving it.
Mum and us two kids going to the drive-in in her little green car.
When you start to write them down there are more that keep popping into your mind - not a bad thing to try on a blue day.
Spending a least some time every year staying on Rottnest Island with my Uncle Bert and Auntie Min and Mum and Dad. Even went to the little one room school on the island for 2 weeks when we went mid school term. Stopped going when Mum and Dad split up.
My step dad helping me down from a tree I had climbed - never had children of his own, but a better father for sure - thanks Pop.
Going into town on Friday night's after school to meet my Grandma Win and have fish and chips at the Railton, over the road from her office.
Going to North Perth Primary - a very multi-cultural school in the 60's - I had friends who were Italian, Dutch, Greek, Latvian, English, Scottish and Aboriginal as well as the Aussies ones. Gave me a chance to accept all races just because that's what kids do.
Getting dropped at school in a taxi (Grandma on the way to work would drop us off) - very posh.
Walking home from school on really wet days with no shoes on and jumping in puddles and getting soaked to the skin but loving it.
Mum and us two kids going to the drive-in in her little green car.
When you start to write them down there are more that keep popping into your mind - not a bad thing to try on a blue day.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Good Childhood Memories
On going back through my blog of late, I seem to be in a maudlin frame of mind and it may seem I have only bad memories of my childhood. So here are some of the good ones!
Staying over at Grandma Win's house and having afternoon tea with my own little teapot and cup and saucer - real leaf tea too with milk and sugar.
Having breakfast in Grandma Win's little sun room - although runny eggs were a little bit of a downside - but the white toast soldiers with real butter to dip in the eggs made up for that.
Having a really, really big yard to play in with a huge plum tree that we made cubbies under (it was more like a bush than a tree - I think it was a plum tree - Mum if you read this you can correct me if I am wrong?)
Wearing beautiful hand made clothes my Mum made - I was a bit of a fashion plate in primary school - especially the yellow bib and brace circle skirt with the white blouse with puffed sleeves and with rows of embroidery on the bottom of the skirt.
Always having pets - especially Angel the cat and Jenny the dog - and a sheep and a parrot and finches.
Living in a 2-storey house and running up and down the stairs (and sliding down the bottom banister - never had the nerve for the top one!
Dad's train set - although we weren't not really allowed to play with it, but it was still heaps of fun - and I think there were times I did play with it when Dad didn't know.
Having a piano and being privileged enough to have piano lessons.
Listening to my Mum play 'Rustle of Spring' on the piano.
Having lots of great friends like Sally, Marcia, Anita, Dianne, Jill and Linda in Primary School and Anna, Gloria, Donna, Claire, Sue and others at Iona.
Having the freedom to go to the library in town on the bus all on my own from about 8.
My Grandma Win taking me to the pictures at the Astor in Mt Lawley and seeing Sound of Music - my very first big person's movie and still a favourite today.
Grandma Grace and her budgies.
Grandpa Jim when his pants fell down while he was shutting the gate.
Mum loving the Beatles and having music in our house.
Mum's little green car with the pop in side window thingys.
Having our own proper cubby house that Dad made, with real windows and a door and it was like a big room in the back yard that grown ups could stand in - that's how big it was.
Playing with Marcia and sliding down the grassy slope in our yard on boards.
Pretending I had boobs and wearing my cousins second hand bra and stuffing it with tissues and going to a birthday party in Grade 7.
Getting Bella the doll from my Aunty Verna who's husband was in the diplomatic core - Bella came all the way from Switzerland - she was a beautiful doll with real hair.
Watching our own firecracker show in our own backyard on Guy Fawkes Night - that was when Perth was allowed to have crackers - especially the catherine wheels.
Playing 'knuckle-bones' at school with my friends.
The freedom of growing up in the 60s and 70s before everyone became so scared of bad things happening to their children.
I'm sure there are more to come - stayed tuned.
Staying over at Grandma Win's house and having afternoon tea with my own little teapot and cup and saucer - real leaf tea too with milk and sugar.
Having breakfast in Grandma Win's little sun room - although runny eggs were a little bit of a downside - but the white toast soldiers with real butter to dip in the eggs made up for that.
Having a really, really big yard to play in with a huge plum tree that we made cubbies under (it was more like a bush than a tree - I think it was a plum tree - Mum if you read this you can correct me if I am wrong?)
Wearing beautiful hand made clothes my Mum made - I was a bit of a fashion plate in primary school - especially the yellow bib and brace circle skirt with the white blouse with puffed sleeves and with rows of embroidery on the bottom of the skirt.
Always having pets - especially Angel the cat and Jenny the dog - and a sheep and a parrot and finches.
Living in a 2-storey house and running up and down the stairs (and sliding down the bottom banister - never had the nerve for the top one!
Dad's train set - although we weren't not really allowed to play with it, but it was still heaps of fun - and I think there were times I did play with it when Dad didn't know.
Having a piano and being privileged enough to have piano lessons.
Listening to my Mum play 'Rustle of Spring' on the piano.
Having lots of great friends like Sally, Marcia, Anita, Dianne, Jill and Linda in Primary School and Anna, Gloria, Donna, Claire, Sue and others at Iona.
Having the freedom to go to the library in town on the bus all on my own from about 8.
My Grandma Win taking me to the pictures at the Astor in Mt Lawley and seeing Sound of Music - my very first big person's movie and still a favourite today.
Grandma Grace and her budgies.
Grandpa Jim when his pants fell down while he was shutting the gate.
Mum loving the Beatles and having music in our house.
Mum's little green car with the pop in side window thingys.
Having our own proper cubby house that Dad made, with real windows and a door and it was like a big room in the back yard that grown ups could stand in - that's how big it was.
Playing with Marcia and sliding down the grassy slope in our yard on boards.
Pretending I had boobs and wearing my cousins second hand bra and stuffing it with tissues and going to a birthday party in Grade 7.
Getting Bella the doll from my Aunty Verna who's husband was in the diplomatic core - Bella came all the way from Switzerland - she was a beautiful doll with real hair.
Watching our own firecracker show in our own backyard on Guy Fawkes Night - that was when Perth was allowed to have crackers - especially the catherine wheels.
Playing 'knuckle-bones' at school with my friends.
The freedom of growing up in the 60s and 70s before everyone became so scared of bad things happening to their children.
I'm sure there are more to come - stayed tuned.
Friday, January 9, 2009
When Being A Girl Isn't Enough
There are a lot of things that happen in your life that shape who you are. They don't all have to be bad or traumatic, maybe it is just something that is said without thinking or the feeling you get from a parent or sibling. And if you are lucky lots of them will be good things.
When I was growing up there were just the two of us, my brother and myself. I am 2 years and a couple of months older. For the first nine years of my brother's life (I was 11 when my Mum and Dad separated) I was made to feel that being a girl wasn't good enough. I don't think my Dad conscientiously intended to make me feel that way, but he did. Not only did I feel I wasn't entitled to the same things as my brother, I was also responsible for all the bad things my brother did, and so even if I wasn't involved I got 2 more smacks, or 2 more strappings with his belt or the flyswatter because as he said I was two years older and should have known better and have been watching out for my brother. Didn't work the other way though - had plenty of smacks and strappings just because I knew how to push my Dad's buttons and my brother never had to endure those. The only time this didn't happen was when my brother nearly burnt down our cubby house and I was in bed. That night he bore my father's wrath all on his own. My Mum and Dad often argued about his philosophy but it didn't stop until my mother walked out and took us with her. This wasn't the reason she left but I am so glad she had the strength to do so.
So how did this feeling come to be? Well it was the little things that happened he never came right out and said 'pity you are a girl' or anything like that. It just all added up, for example, my father was a shooter - rabbits, roos, ducks you name it he shot it. Being a tom boy I always wanted to go but was never ever encouraged to do so. He always wanted to take my brother who funnily enough really didn't want to go. I eventually nagged him enough that he took me and a friend of his took his daughter as well. But instead of encouraging me to participate he stuck me up a tree and told me to look out for tiger snakes while he and his mates spent hours duck shooting. He thought it was really funny that I was scared the whole time in case a snake climbed the tree I was in, and he still does today, think it is funny that is.
There were lots of other instances of his non-understanding of my needs as his daughter including not letting me make things in his workshop and leaving me stuck up trees I had climbed cause if I was a boy I would know how to climb down. I suppose we aren't born with an instruction manual on how to be a parent and he did his best and there must have been good times although none that I remember clearly. To hear him tell it now he was a wonderful father and still is. I've given up trying to make him understand - after all one person's reality is not anothers.
I ended up thinking that being a daughter wasn't good enough for my Dad and the worse part of it, I grew up resenting my brother. My brother and I have not had a wonderful relationship and are now estranged although I'm still not sure why as I had tried really hard to be there for him but obviously I failed somehow.
My father and I didn't speak for a few years from my mid teens to my early twenties, but once I became a parent I realised that being a parent wasn't easy and that we all make mistakes and so I made the decision to let him back into my life, but on my terms.
Because of this feeling I had as a child I have tried really hard to make all of my 4 children feel equal to each other, but I am sure that if you asked them they would say otherwise after all I am just as human and the next man/woman and each child in the family has their own needs which sometime impact on how much time you have to spend with the others. I imagine that sometimes the 'good' ones feel like they are overshadowed and the 'naughty' ones feel they are not praised enough. But I hope that all my children grew up knowing that I loved them (and still do) no matter what their sex, whether they were naughty or nice and that I would give my life to save theirs.
I hope my son grew up knowing it was fine to be a boy who didn't play with guns and that playing with his sister's dolls was okay, no matter what the rest of the world said. I hope my daughters grew up knowing that being a girl is a wonderful thing and that is why they have become strong and independent women they are today.
I hope that my 2 grand-daughters rule the world because they can if they want to because my genes run in their blood and while that might mean arthritis and other crappy stuff, it also means you will become a woman to be reckoned with, a women who loves unconditionally and a women who can forgive because all of us are human and we all have feet of clay.
When I was growing up there were just the two of us, my brother and myself. I am 2 years and a couple of months older. For the first nine years of my brother's life (I was 11 when my Mum and Dad separated) I was made to feel that being a girl wasn't good enough. I don't think my Dad conscientiously intended to make me feel that way, but he did. Not only did I feel I wasn't entitled to the same things as my brother, I was also responsible for all the bad things my brother did, and so even if I wasn't involved I got 2 more smacks, or 2 more strappings with his belt or the flyswatter because as he said I was two years older and should have known better and have been watching out for my brother. Didn't work the other way though - had plenty of smacks and strappings just because I knew how to push my Dad's buttons and my brother never had to endure those. The only time this didn't happen was when my brother nearly burnt down our cubby house and I was in bed. That night he bore my father's wrath all on his own. My Mum and Dad often argued about his philosophy but it didn't stop until my mother walked out and took us with her. This wasn't the reason she left but I am so glad she had the strength to do so.
So how did this feeling come to be? Well it was the little things that happened he never came right out and said 'pity you are a girl' or anything like that. It just all added up, for example, my father was a shooter - rabbits, roos, ducks you name it he shot it. Being a tom boy I always wanted to go but was never ever encouraged to do so. He always wanted to take my brother who funnily enough really didn't want to go. I eventually nagged him enough that he took me and a friend of his took his daughter as well. But instead of encouraging me to participate he stuck me up a tree and told me to look out for tiger snakes while he and his mates spent hours duck shooting. He thought it was really funny that I was scared the whole time in case a snake climbed the tree I was in, and he still does today, think it is funny that is.
There were lots of other instances of his non-understanding of my needs as his daughter including not letting me make things in his workshop and leaving me stuck up trees I had climbed cause if I was a boy I would know how to climb down. I suppose we aren't born with an instruction manual on how to be a parent and he did his best and there must have been good times although none that I remember clearly. To hear him tell it now he was a wonderful father and still is. I've given up trying to make him understand - after all one person's reality is not anothers.
I ended up thinking that being a daughter wasn't good enough for my Dad and the worse part of it, I grew up resenting my brother. My brother and I have not had a wonderful relationship and are now estranged although I'm still not sure why as I had tried really hard to be there for him but obviously I failed somehow.
My father and I didn't speak for a few years from my mid teens to my early twenties, but once I became a parent I realised that being a parent wasn't easy and that we all make mistakes and so I made the decision to let him back into my life, but on my terms.
Because of this feeling I had as a child I have tried really hard to make all of my 4 children feel equal to each other, but I am sure that if you asked them they would say otherwise after all I am just as human and the next man/woman and each child in the family has their own needs which sometime impact on how much time you have to spend with the others. I imagine that sometimes the 'good' ones feel like they are overshadowed and the 'naughty' ones feel they are not praised enough. But I hope that all my children grew up knowing that I loved them (and still do) no matter what their sex, whether they were naughty or nice and that I would give my life to save theirs.
I hope my son grew up knowing it was fine to be a boy who didn't play with guns and that playing with his sister's dolls was okay, no matter what the rest of the world said. I hope my daughters grew up knowing that being a girl is a wonderful thing and that is why they have become strong and independent women they are today.
I hope that my 2 grand-daughters rule the world because they can if they want to because my genes run in their blood and while that might mean arthritis and other crappy stuff, it also means you will become a woman to be reckoned with, a women who loves unconditionally and a women who can forgive because all of us are human and we all have feet of clay.
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