Read All About It.

Headline Stories at Sparkly Street, since the last post:

• MISTER FIXIT QUITS ANNOYING JOB TO RETURN TO HIS TRADE •



This is definitely a good news story.  The Warehouse Manager job that he left was driving Fixit crazy. It was stressful, badly paid, physically tiring and gave him no job satisfaction.  It was the job he got after he was retrenched from his Airline Mechanic job, and he took it so we could pay our rent. At first it seemed okay; they realised he was a good worker and they appreciated him, which was good for his self-esteem after retrenchment. But it gradually became quite toxic, and he was hating the job and his employers (family business, high staff turnover, no actual systems to run things properly, you get the idea...). He started looking for work back in the industry for which he had qualifications, and despite there not being a great deal on offer, he came very close to getting an airline job. At the last minute they said they had to give precedence to mechanics working for the company in casual positions. The logical step at that point was to apply for a casual job so that he could be back in the system again, and hope for the best when permanent jobs came up again. He's been a casual employee since June, working 4 night-shifts in a row with 4-day rests in between. It's not perfect (no sick leave, no holiday pay, no job security) but it's better. 

• FIXIT FAMILY ADJUSTS TO HAVING DAD WORK NIGHT-SHIFT •

 

The cat thinks the new arrangement is pretty good. On night-shift blocks there is nearly always a human in the big bed to cuddle up with. I'm enjoying seeing more of Fixit - we get to hang out and go for coffee dates during daylight hours. Also, he is contributing more to daily life.  The kids, particularly Climber, have had to step up on the evenings that Fixit and I are both working (I teach 2 nights a week) so that we can manage getting them to and from their sporting/work commitments, (Climber has a job, he's a gymnastics coach!  Also: he has started shaving OMG.) but they're older now so we felt confident that they could do this. I've been very proud of them. They catch public transport or ride their bikes, and then they get themselves off to bed. They're good boys. None of it is unmanageable, it just calls for forethought and organisation.  It's good that we now live so much closer to everything, certainly makes a difference. Fixit is coping remarkably well with staying awake all night. I don't think I'd cope nearly as well at all. Still. It would be good to win the lottery so he could give up work and spend his time pottering round the shed and likely being a neighbourhood handyman.



• STOMPER GIRL GOES TO CRAFT CAMP (AGAIN) •



Mid-winter craft camps are best.



A whole 4 days away from the daily grind. Comfort food, woodfires. No insects. This year I got to meet Tracy in person after years of blog friendship; we found each other to be just as we'd imagined. I suspect that means we have our online voices right. I was awarded the Princess Room, which is the one where you don't share with anyone and you get a queensize bed all to yourself. I made a rhubarb and apple pie for my turn at the cooking.

As for my crafting, I had two successes and one failure. Success #1 was an Orphan Annie frock (adapted from the Clothkits Tea-Dress) for a fancydress party (We put a baldcap and a suit on Fixit and he was Daddy Warbucks).



The failure was a bias cut top with under-bust darts, the Curlew tank from the Merchant & Mills workbook.  The under-bust darts turned into weird side air pockets around my rib cage.  We think it's meant to be worn by women with a more ample bust. But then I made a Ruby top out of a tablecloth and all was well.



I love going away with my Crafty Friends.  More photos here.



• STOMPER GIRL BUYS THE BEST PAIR OF TAP SHOES EVER •



All the way from New York. Miller & Ben SporTaps. So good in every way.

• STOMPER GIRL IS EMPLOYED AS A PROFESSIONAL WUTHERING HEIGHTS INSTRUCTRESS •



This may need it's own post, but in precis I can tell you it was slightly bonkers but enormous fun, several thousand people on a perfect Melbourne day clad in red dresses and re-creating the dance from Kate Bush's song Wuthering Heights.

Heathcliff, it's me, Cathy, I've come home and I'm so co-o-o-old.



• CHERUB BREAKS HAND IN FINAL GAME OF SOCCER SEASON •

Cherub's team was playing the top team in the league, and when one of the opposition players couldn't stop Cherub making one of his excellent runs with the ball, they resorted to a foul push which sent my poor lad hurtling to the ground.  The Ref said as he helped Cherub up they seem to be targeting you. Cherub landed on his fist with all his body weight on top.  He was awarded a free kick, but soon afterwards asked to come off and didn't play for the rest of the game.



You can tell its a break because the edges of the index knuckle, on the lift side, are not smooth and rounded, but slightly jagged. There was a also a wavy line -not visible here- in the middle of the bone where it had bowed at the point of impact.



We took him and his poor swollen hand to the Childrens' Hospital next day where they found a small break just below the knuckle, and he ended up with a splint and 6 weeks of showering with a plastic bag on his arm, no writing, no playing clarinet, and no gymnastics or swimming. He also had to miss playing with his school soccer team in the state finals. And then he came down with a virus/flu and was as miserable as I've ever seen him for 3 solid days, we assume because his immune system was concentrating on bone repair and couldn't fight the other nasties or because he'd been to a hospital and picked up something awful from there. Or both those things.



Good on you Fawkner, you dirty thugs.

At the End of Year presentations Cherub was awarded Best and Fairest for the season and I give you this picture to represent the highs and lows of sporting life: I call it Sling and Trophy



• FIXIT FAMILY FIND & RESTORE MISSING CAT •

This mini adventure felt like therapy for all of us, after the trauma of our own cat who went missing but never came home.

On a Sunday night Cherub heard cats meowing outside and we went to investigate, in case Basil was getting involved in a territory dispute.  A silver tabby saw us and ran off into the street, but at the time I did think his meows were strange, more hello can you help me than I hates your poncy cat.  The next day Fixit and I saw the Missing Cat sign, so I immediately rang and reported the sighting. We all felt really hopeful about re-uniting a lost cat with the worried owner, and were disappointed when the owners texted back saying they'd searched but hadn't found him. They also asked if we would catch him if we saw him again but as the days went by we thought we'd missed our chance.

Then on the Thursday night, Cherub ran down from the bedroom to say he'd heard the cat again. This time we grabbed some dried catfood and our cat-cage before we went out. Basil was looking mildly defensive (he was safely tucked between the wheelie bins, but he wasn't fluffed up and snarling) and the tabbycat looked at us warily. I could see he didn't want us to touch him but when we put some food on the ground he immediately came over to eat, and after many soft words and plenty of food and a bit of sneaking quietly round the back of him, I eventually got the cage lid on top of the kitty. Cherub sat on it to stop him getting out while Climber and I spent some time wrangling him into the cage with towels and trays and Cherub's one good hand.



The owner wasn't able to get to our house til late so the boys sat for a while keeping Juan company and we all hoped we had the right cat, and hadn't falsely kidnapped a non-lost feline.



At 11.30pm a very grateful young man arrived at our gate and confirmed that we'd captured the lost Juan. He was extremely apologetic about keeping me up so late and offered me money, but I explained that we didn't need rewarding because we'd lost a cat once and finding one for someone else had made us all very, very happy.  (He probably thought I was mad, but I'm just a good neighbour!) So he transferred Juan into his own cage and went on his way, texting me afterwards to thank us yet again.

We recently watched a documentary about cat behaviour and this experience did make we wonder about cat dynamics. Juan came to our house twice, so did he know that a house where another cat lives is a good option for a lost cat? And did Basil, who never behaved in a hostile way, recognise a fellow feline in distress?

PS. Last night the owners dropped round a very fancy looking bottle of wine as a thank you.



• WE FAREWELL THE FAITHFUL COROLLA •

My Dad has given us his old car which is in much better nick than my poor old beloved Corolla, and it's a stationwagon, which will be so handy for lugging stuff around, so I keep reminding myself that it's great news. But the truth is I'm a bit sad because I really loved my girly hatchback. I could park it anywhere, it was an automatic with aircon and four doors, which were my 3 prerequisites when I purchased a car in the lead-up to starting a family, the heater worked, the petrol economy was great, and the mechanic used to give it a fond slap after working on it and say Corollas, best cars in the world. What more do you really need? Sure, it didn't have cup-holders or button-click doors, and the driver window wouldn't wind up properly unless Fixit did it, and the stereo volume was stuck on full, and the rear windscreen wiper didn't work, but I was used to living with those things.  I must admit too, to a sneaking Luddite preference for car features that are mechanical rather than electrical or computer-chipped. They're easier to fix, especially if you have Mister Fixit in your life, and you'll never get trapped without air in a car that has an actual winding-stick for the window operation is what I'm saying.

But also, it was the car that I chose, a style that I'd admired when I'd seen others driving around, and one that I duly researched in the Trading Post before finding the model-I-wanted at the price-I-could-afford at a mansion in Toorak of all places. This was me on the day I bought him, sometime in 1998. He was extra awesome because the number-plate said FBI. That fact always made me happy.



And this was me yesterday, taking a last pic to remember him by. Eighteen years together. Sniff. I also re-read this post when I was looking for pictures and it made me smile. My Corolla was cool. It was probably the coolest car I'll ever own.




 Thank you for joining us for today's bulletin. Here is the Weather Report.

• WEATHER •

It's spring!  There is some sunshine coming into our house again.



* BONUS FEEL-GOOD STORY FEATURING CUTENESS •

It's a meerkat from the Childrens Hospital. Nnaww.

Cast off

He's been counting down the sleeps, and today was the day. He told me that when the roll is called at school in the morning he's been answering with [x] more days till my plaster comes off! instead of here or present. Today he told me he said it's today! when his name was called.



He said the saw they used to take the cast off was not so much tickly as buzzy. During the sawing he made a sort of ahh noise so that he could hear the vibrations through his voice. He also kept chatting away to the technician forgetting that there was a loud saw and they both had headphones on so no-one could hear anything. Then he sat up slowly and you could see he felt most peculiar. His arm felt light and weird. We had to go from the plaster room to the x-ray ward, and he insisted he had to walk at snail's pace because of his funny feeling arm.



Then we saw the orthopaedic doctor who was training a student doctor, so I think we got to hear a lot more information that normal. Like for instance that if he'd been ordering the cast he would have moved the plate at the end of the bone over a bit, via manipulation. Hmm. But he says the banana shaped wrist will straighten itself out anyway over the next six months. When he asked Cherub to move his wrist Cherub said I can't. The doctor said, in a voice that brooked no argument, Try. So Cherub did. It's all good.



We kept the cast as a souvenir, but we be scrubbed off the scurfy dead skin at bathtime.



The inside of his hand was filthy! He's off sport for another 4 weeks, but he's allowed to swim.

The Good, the Bad and The Ugly

The Good...

• Cherub won the Caught Being Good Award this week, serendipitously on one of the few Mondays of the year that Fixit was also there at Assembly. The award commended Cherub's positive attitude in always doing his best even with a broken arm. I must say that I think kids are ace. If I had a cast on my arm I reckon I'd whinge about what a pain in the neck the cast was, how much I hated being one-handed etc. Cherub just puts a bag on his arm for bath-time and writes with his right hand instead. I'm sure there's a lesson to be learned there, but I'd still put money on me being a whinger if I was afflicted.



• Basil was put on a course of anti-inflammatory tablets after we told the vet about the tripod-edness. Since then he has gradually started to put more weight on the bad leg. Fixit and I can't stop pointing it out to each other. Did you see that? He's definitely putting some weight on that bad leg. We're still waiting for his fur to fully grow back but on the whole, Mister Basil is looking very good, he's put on weight and is a cheerful, smoochy well cat once more.



• The quilt block I sewed for the WhipUp 65 Roses Quilt was not rejected (as I worried it might be) and is now looking like it belongs in the middle of a really fabulous looking quilt which will help raise funds for Cystic Fibrosis.



• New purple tap shoes. Same as the old purple tap shoes but not trashed.



The Bad...

• Tooth trouble. The tooth where I had a filling, then a chipped bit, then another filling has now chipped off more and it's very uncomfortable and I have to put up with it for 3 weeks til my ace dentist can see me. Tooth trouble is deeply unsettling I think, it makes me feel as if my inner core is disintegrating.

• A blister from the new purple tap shoes. Not their fault. Should have worn socks instead of stockings if I wanted to break them in for the energetic 2 and a half hours that are the childrens classes. Decision to wear stockings that day based on fashion sense not common sense.


The Ugly...

• There is a Rodent Of Unusual Size (thank you Shula for that Princess Bride reference) scuttling brazenly between the underneath of our house and our compost bin. I saw it in broad daylight and it was so shockingly large (and also, I think, rather fat) that I didn't even scream or jump, I just said out loud, to myself -and I quote- : Holy Moley that's a big rat. Fixit is scheduling a rodent cleansing. I believe the cleansing implement of choice will be a spade. We also have mice running around, (oh my god you should see the hole under the sink in the kitchen where they've been getting in, enormous! I bet the ROUS has been inside oh god I don't want to think about it.) but in a little silver lining I must tell you that Basil caught a (regular sized) mouse the other night and that I think that is all kinds of good.

Cast On, Knit One.

Turns out Cherub's small buckle fracture was also a Salter Harris fracture, ie there was damage to his growth plate, the cartilage at the end of the bone that controls the bone's growth. This means Cherub is now the proud owner of a full cast and will have to wear it for the next 4 weeks. They gave him a choice of colours too, he rejected my suggestion that the purple cast was pretty awesome. Instead he chose his favourite blue, which looks rather fetching with the bright red Stop-sling. The good news about a full cast is that people can sign it properly, so we bought a special marker and he hawked his arm around the school yard. People love to sign a cast, don't they? I noticed a few special adults in his life looking particularly chuffed as Cherub asked for their autographs. Here is the new cast, enhanced, I think, by his crazy front teeth, we're expecting the sideways one to fall out Any Day Now.



Ironically, whilst having a broken pet meant we spent all our savings and borrowed money too, having a broken child means we're saving money, mostly on sporting tuition. It's as if Cherub took one for the team. Thank heavens we live in a country with a proper health care system.

Sling Your Hook

DSC_6838, originally uploaded by stompergirl.

According to Cherub, the doctor's assertion that wearing a sling would prevent kids in the schoolyard from being too rough in Cherub's vicinity was untrue. Heaps of people banged into him he said, and a mean Grade 3 (or 4?) girl was cited as the most blatant offender because she just pushed him and didn't say sorry or even notice the sling. Added to its lack of deterrent power was the uncomfortable-ness of the hospital issue sling, which was deteriorating and tangling.

So in an effort to make him less anti-sling, I decided to make a replacement one. The bright red fabric seemed to be the perfect way to ensure that other kids saw and kept away from the injured arm, but Cherub insisted I also sew the word Stop! on to it. Just to make quite sure.

He wore it to school today and it was a success!

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune

Well, no actual arrows, but here are the slings in our life. Cherub is back at school although yesterday he only lasted half a day. Fair enough. At first he thought the sling was a nuisance and asked if he had to wear it. The doctor said it was a good idea, if only to let other people know to be gentle near him. By the end of that first day Cherub was really feeling the weight of his splinted arm, and both mornings since I've been awoken by Cherub standing next to my bed asking me to help him get the sling on. The poor kid is starting to realise the ramifications of being maimed. No swimming, soccer, tennis, trampoline, running or climbing. No two-handed games on the computer either. Even lego is difficult. I suggested he could read books but apparently that was boring too.



As for the kitty, he still really, really wants cuddles. He limps around after me sometimes, looking up at me pathetically. But I can't always be sitting in a chair, there is dinner to cook and stuff to do. So yesterday I tied the ends of a pashmina together and he snuggled in.



He was pretty happy with the arrangement.

A Small Break

It was the first day back at school this morning and guess what? Poor Cherub fell off the play equipment before the bell rang and [a] winded himself (very frightening for him) and [b] broke his wrist.



Ten and a bit years parenting and we've got our first broken child! And, as Astrid so rightly put it, we all thought it would be The Climber, what with his innate urge to leave the ground far behind him. But when you think about it, it makes sense that it was the smaller, less-co-ordinated brother; the boy who always tries to keep up with Master Anti-Gravity was actually the one who fell to earth.



Anyway. I took him to the Childrens Hospital where they gave him some pain relief and an x-ray, which revealed a buckle fracture in the radius (the larger arm-bone). So they put on a fibreglass splint and we were free to go. No manipulation of broken bones required, thank goodness. Slight possibility of a proper cast if the pain gets worse. He's fine. He ought to be back at school tomorrow and learning to do stuff right-handedly.