Does this feel like graduation? It totally does. Will you sign my yearbook?

Oh, you guys. You guys, you guys, you guys. Let me just look at you for a minute. You look really good. Did you change your hair?

It just seems like, oh, 3 weeks ago that I decided to celebrate my 300th post by blogging everyday for the rest of May, and now here we are. We've shared so much together, haven't we? I don't know about you, but I really feel like these few weeks have been a turning point in our relationship. Do you feel that? I do.

You complete me.

I thought I'd take this opportunity to link back to some of my most memorable posts from the ol' archives. Seeing as how I've never been organized enough to make them easily searchable, you may have missed a few.

1. Read the epic tale of a major passport mishap/parenting fail. There's planes! Trains! Tears! The US Consulate! Parts One and Two, in which I sweated, cursed under my breath, and tried not to pee my pants.

2. I'm not sure if he meant to, but Stephen Fry made me cry. Sometimes you miss things from home without even knowing you miss them. Ya know?

3. I made Grace wear a maxi pad. I like to think it's an example of my ingenuity.

4. This one time, my friend and her little boy thought it'd be fun to bring their baby Bluetongued Lizard for a visit. I guess the lizard really liked my house. And boy, can those things disappear quickly! I was not amused. Read Parts One and Two, and how the day was saved.

5. Our Grace is born! I'm sure she was already plotting her eventual coup at this stage.

6. My sister calls me to tell me she's been diagnosed with breast cancer.

7. Jason has to get all Jack Bauer when I made him split his toe open. I am the best wife ever.

8. I consider living in a vat of hand sanitizer when we all get conjunctivitis. I also talk about boobs, though--so everybody wins!

9. I lose a bet with my dad. I have to cluck like a chicken. That's really all I can say, except that it's so lovely to have supportive parents.

10. My name is Amy, and I wink/accidentally flirt with strangers.

11. A little story about what a stabby mess I was when we were getting ready to move here. It has rainbows! And ponies! (But not really ponies.)

So there you have it. That should keep you busy for awhile. For real though, thanks for reading! I love talking to y'all, thanks for indulging me.

Back soon!

xoxox

Time to up my game

Grace will be 2 in two weeks--yikes! That's the funny thing about kids...when you feed them and stuff, they tend to grow. Profound, isn't it? I have lots of other insights to offer; would you be interested in my book on parenting? It's called: Swimming Lessons Count as a Bath (And Other Parental Shortcuts).

Thing is, she's getting smarter too. And throughout the day, I find myself getting played a little bit. If I'm putting her to bed, she waits till we read our 3 books then right at the last minute, calls for daddy to come and do the honors. She will go and stand in the hallway and just yell his name till he comes. Of course, if it's Jason that does the jammification process and reads books, then she's wanting me.

Oh gosh, speaking of--I gotta tell y'all what happened yesterday. We got home from church and I went straight into her room to put her down for a nap. We had something on in the afternoon so I was trying to get her down in a hurry. Of course she wanted Jason to come do it.

I called for Jason to come--he'd gone up to our bedroom to change clothes. He came to Grace's room with no shirt on. When he walked in, she just stared at him and started saying, "Uh-oh. Uh-oh. Uh-oh." (This is what all dudes hope the ladies will say, right guys?) I mean, she was really bothered that he didn't have his shirt on--she just stared at him. I started doing that silent-laughter-shoulder-shaking thing. I tried to hand her to Jason, but she clung to me. She was just not having this whole shirtless thing. Good news, though--now every time Jason changes clothes now, I can just go, "Uh-oh! Uh-oh!"

Anyway, I've realized that I've been a little more lax with Grace, as far as setting boundaries and discipline goes. We are working on teaching her to say "please" and not rewarding her for tantruming. But I let a lot more things go than I used to. I guess I just find it so funny when she points at Nate and screams for him to vacate the rocking chair. (He does it right away, whereas he never would for Ava.) Or when she walks up to me and silently holds her hand out for me to give her my partially-eaten apple, certain that she will be obeyed. Or when she tells one of us off--in total gibberish language, but her tone! You just know that she is ripping you to shreds, if you could only understand it.

She is a fuzzy, pink, attack bear. They're the most dangerous kind.

The truth is, it makes me laugh. (Well, when I'm not frustrated already.) She is like this tiny, blonde dictator with light-up sneakers. The chutzpah! She has no doubt of her place in the universe and she will brook no opposition. But I know, I know. What's cute at 2 is utterly obnoxious at 4. This ain't my first rodeo. So, I know we have to start working on some of these behaviors.

Before we're all huddling under the kitchen table while she trashes the joint.

Need to work on our Theology. Or Geography. Theography?

On the way to church early this morning, the kids were both looking through their Bibles. We bought them both new Bibles a few weeks ago--their first "nicer" ones. Nate can't read his on his own yet, so he likes to look at the maps in the back.

"Dad?" he called out from the back of the car. "Did you know that we were the second people in Australia?" "We were?" Jason asked. I thought, Hmmm, maybe they're already teaching him about the Aboriginal people at school. "Yeah," Nate said. "The first were the Israelites."

And being the responsible, quick-to-educate parents that we are, (and pastors, to boot) we did what came naturally.

"Really, buddy? That's interesting."

Sometimes, you just gotta let things go.

A quiet kind of day

Today was a much-needed lazy day. There were no birthday parties to attend, no meetings to go to, no events to organize. I slept until 8:30 (!), and Jason got up with the kids. (Yes, I'm sorry to say that 8:30 way counts as sleeping in.) Then, we took the kids to the park and enjoyed a glorious winter(ish) day.
It doesn't matter the weather, though... the kids will always want iceblocks no matter how cold it is. I think it's like a constant of the universe. Like, is the earth still rotating on its axis? Are we still carbon-based lifeforms? Does mankind still possess the power to freeze flavoured sugar water, and place said frozen water on a stick? Then, yes. I would like one of those frozen sticks, please.

Then, we came home and tried to do as little as possible. The kids had their afternoon rest time, and when that was over, Jason and I did that thing we do when neither of us feels like getting up--we traded off parenting. You get up to get juice this time, I'll make sandwiches next time. You help build the Lego tower this time, I'll change the diaper next time. Wanna watch another DVD, guys?

You get the idea. I read Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey on my phone and Jason watched The Seven Samurai until Grace insisted on something more age-appropriate. She's picky like that. Actually, we couldn't blame her. I know that movie is supposed to be a classic, but we both found it to be a major snooze-fest. Just being honest.

Then, we grilled steaks for dinner and our neighbors came over to eat with us. They agreed that I'm definitely more easygoing. Like, way. (Right, guys? That's what we decided, right?)

Now, I'm watching a live streaming video of a friend's wedding in Dublin. Ain't that fancy? All in all, a lovely day.

Hope yours is nice too! Don't over-exert yourself, okay? You deserve a break.

Very Sporty

I've never been good at sports. I always seem to get hit in the head with the ball--even if I'm not actually playing the game. Standing around, watching friends play beach volleyball, for example, it's only a matter of time before an errant serve whacks me in the side of the head.

As a kid, I gave it a go. I played church softball. (For my Aussie and/or non-American readers, a lot of churches in the States have sports leagues and play other churches in softball, basketball, whatever.) I was never any good at softball. I played cause that's just what you did, but I was always uncomfortable and nervous I'd do something catastrophic, and generally glad when my turn at bat was over. I only played for a couple of years, before embracing my non-sportiness. But not before I got a trophy! My very own award, at the end-of-the-year church softball banquet. For "Most Christian Attitude". Bless them for coming up with an award to give me, but even as an 11 year old, I knew it was kind of bogus. Still, it was nice to have a trophy.

Imagine my surprise when I ended up dating and eventually marrying a natural athlete. Jason grew up playing nearly every sport offered in Orange County, and eventually chose to focus on diving. I really saw my lack of athleticism as a flaw, at that time it was something that I was kind of embarrassed about. So, when I started to realize that I, like, LIKED Jason, I told myself he would never be interested in me because he was such an athlete and I was clearly not. Of course, I was 18 and more than a little silly. Now, of course, our differences there are a non-issue. He doesn't expect me to want to play tennis or whatever with him, and I enjoy having a husband who can do back flips on command. (This is awesome at parties.)

Ava and Nate are at the age now that they are starting to try out different sports. We are doing it gradually--they're pretty little and we are not quite ready to have our lives overtaken by practices, games, and more practices. They both are in swimming lessons, which here in Australia, doesn't even really count. Pretty much every kid is in swimming, all year round! Nate has started playing soccer this year, and both kids are taking gymnastics on Friday afternoons. The YMCA runs a program out of our local high school, and they are having lots of fun on the trampoline and the balance beam, and learning to hang from the uneven bars.

Of course, when your kids start to play sports, that's when you see the different philosophies emerge from Mom and Dad. You might guess that I'm pretty chill about the whole thing. Do you want to do this, are you having fun, just try your best--that's kind of my deal. Jason would agree, but he's also: push through the pain, don't cry, practice more, don't stop running just cause your side hurts, etc. (Actually that's the advice he has to give me, not so much the kids!)

Tonight, I was getting the kids into their PJ's, and asking them how gymnastics went this afternoon. Ava stuck her foot in the air. "See this big toe?" "Uh, yeah," I said. "I was running toward the mini-trampoline to do my star jumps and my toe hit the metal bar on the side. I cried," she said. "Ouch!" I said, "I bet that hurt."

Nate then jumped in the conversation. He showed us where he'd fallen and scraped his elbow. "I laid on the ground for a minute," he said, pausing for effect, "And then I just got up and kept going. See?" he said, now looking at Ava to lecture her, "It's okay if you feel tears, but you just gotta keep them from coming out."

I'm sure Jason would've high-fived him if he'd been in the room to hear that statement! Of course, me being me, I said, "Well, it's okay if you cry sometimes!" I betcha if Jason had heard me say that, I would've totally gotten the Stinkeye.

This is probably why one of us got a Most Christian Attitude trophy and one of us got a 4 year full tuition athletic scholarship.

As if you needed more convincing that I am a freak

Tonight when I got home I watched a little of the Oprah show finale. Actually, I guess it's the second to last show? The last last one is tomorrow night. I haven't watched Oprah consistently in years, really. But for a lot of years, it was a mainstay of my week. ("You get a car! You get a car! You! You!") I'm not as big an Oprah-ite as a lot of people, but some of her truisms still come to mind for me. "You teach people how to treat you" is one of the big ones.

Anyway, while watching tonight I remembered again how vaguely uncomfortable I get while watching "live" TV. Are you like this at all? It just feels too uncertain, and I worry that someone will make a mistake or say something they shouldn't or that someone will embarrass themselves. This year, I tried to watch the Academy Awards but I had to change the channel cause I felt so sorry for Anne Hathaway. She was trying so hard! And I just was worried that it was falling flat.

I have a hard time watching talk shows where viewers call in, too. I would get so embarrassed for people sometimes. Why? I have no idea, but I'd beg to change the channel. There's a popular drive time radio show here where the hosts sometimes prank call random people. They're not nasty about it or anything, but I always have to switch the station when they do it. Also, those candid camera type prank shows. Oh gosh, those are agony to watch for me. I can't stand watching someone being pranked--I literally have left the room before, it's painful to me. Not because I don't see the humor in it. I think it's that someone is being made to be vulnerable, or exposed in a way, and I feel like I should look away--just as much as if they'd ripped the seat of their pants.

Tonight I was sort of laughing to myself though, cause why would watching the Oprah finale make me nervous? All those people up there have been on camera most of their lives. There is an army of staff and professionals who have planned that show, literally to the second. I probably don't need to worry about how they're gonna do.

But I still did. A bit.

I need to chill out a little, don't I?

Say I'm More Relaxed or I Will Punch You in the Face

Tonight Jason and I got to go out to dinner and a movie. We have some friends staying with us, who've just relocated to Sydney, and they agreed to babysit for us so we could go out. Woohoo!

Over dinner, Jason was telling me about a conversation he had recently with a mom from the school. He ran into her at our local coffee shop, made polite chit-chat, and she ended up telling him a little about how her kids were coping with her recent divorce. (Jason just seems to be the kind of person that everyone wants to talk to. He's all pastor-y.) We don't know them very well, but Ava is in the same class as this couple's little girl. We were talking about how difficult the adjustment must be for all of them, and how both the husband and wife have very strong, dominant personalities. Really, we weren't talking so much about this couple in particular, but about the anatomies of different kinds of marriages. It always makes me think of what my dad used to tell us, "The only people who know what really goes on in a marriage are the two people in it."

I told Jason, "You know, I think we have it easier sometimes because we both happen to be pretty easygoing people. Temperament makes a big difference." And he goes, "Well yeah, one of us is easygoing." I stopped, my fork of delicious lamb massaman curry halfway to my mouth. "Surely, you're talking about me."

"Hmmm, I'm pretty sure I'm more easygoing than you are," he said, smiling sweetly. (He loves to bait me like this. Probably because it always works.) "Oh sure, maybe," I said, "Until it's something you have a strong opinion about. Then you bring the hammer of your iron will to bear." (Okay, I probably didn't say exactly that. My mouth was full of this beautiful, tender lamb shank, after all. But that's what I would've said if I hadn't been chewing.)

Then I reminded him of what country we are currently living in, and how that was a decision driven by him. (Yes, yes, I love it here, but still.) And of how many times he'd rearranged our living room furniture without asking me first. He said, "Well, okay, maybe 10% of the time, I push my way through. But the other 90%? It's all you."

Well, I called BS on that, I'll tell you right now. Then we had a discussion of terms--yes, I looked up the official definition of "easygoing" on my phone, we discussed the difference between easygoing as a temperament versus a moral position. "Placid" was thrown out as an alternative descriptor, and promptly abandoned.

Then he decided to show how easily annoyed (read: non-easygoing) I can be. He started drumming his fingers repeatedly on the table. Then he picked up the water carafe and rested it on top of the little tealite holder. "Stop that!" I said, looking around. "Oh! Is this bothering you?" he said, lifting it and putting it back, again and again.

It was totally bothering me, but that kind of business would bug anyone!

Do other couples flirt like this?

I then decided it was time to take this to a jury of our peers. Facebook, duh! As we waited in line to buy our movie tickets, I asked my FB friends to help us settle our debate. Who was more easygoing: Jason or I? Well, the initial feedback was underwhelming, to be sure. My friend Jules pointed out that if either of us were easygoing, would we have posted the question? I replied that all of my friends were PANSIES and needed to man up and answer.

As of now, Jason has slightly more votes than me, but I have been designated as "sweeter". Someone pointed out that easygoing people wouldn't yell PANSIES at their friends, but I don't think that's a pertinent observation, do you?

Anyway, it was a lovely evening. And when Jason started to complain about our seats in the theatre and said maybe we should move, I pointed out that really, I'll sit anywhere. Any seat in the whole place is perfectly fine by me. Here I'll just stand here in the aisle. I don't mind.

Winning!