jmgoyder

wings and things

My name is “MING!”

If we had had more than one child we probably would have become more accomplished at the name thing. Alas, Ming (as our only child) inherited a bunch of names that make him sound/seem like a bit of a superior-being-weirdo – poor kid!

His first name is Menzies (pronounced Mingus with a soft ‘g’ and soon shortened to ‘Ming’). This name was chosen by Anthony, whose uncle on his mother’s side, had a Scottish name in the midst of which was ‘Menzies’.

His second name is Brinsley, named after my father, and his father, and his father. Many of the children, my brother, Brin, included, and grandchildren, have ‘Brinsley’ inserted somewhere inside their names. My father, Brinsley, died suddenly, when my brothers and I were still teenagers.

Ming’s third name is Barr, named after Anthony’s father, so his whole name is Menzies Brinsley Barr Goyder. It sounds rather impressive doesn’t it (and pretentious!)

It is very hard to get the pronunciation of ‘Ming’ from ‘Menzies’ however Ming has no patience with anyone who calls him MENZIES!

We should have just called him ‘Schnooks’ or something simpler – argh!

54 Comments »

A conversation between a 20-year-old son and his 50ish mother about washing the dishes

Me: We need to talk about the dishes.
Ming: I don’t care about the dishes.
Me: I want them washed; after all, they are mostly your dishes.
Ming: Ask me then!
Me: Why should I have to ask you when it is quite obvious that there are dishes on the sink that need washing?
Ming: It isn’t a priority for me; I want to clean the windows.
Me: I don’t care about the windows at the moment – I care about the dishes.
Ming: Well, I asked you if you wanted me to do the dishes this morning and you said it was okay not to.
Me: That’s only because I wanted you to do it anyway.
Ming: So I am supposed to read your mind?
Me: No, you are supposed to have a bit of initiative. If something needs to be done, then do it!
Ming: Well, write me a list, Mum.
Me: But why can’t you just simply see what needs doing, and do it?
Ming: Because I can’t.
Me: Well we will just have to agree to disagree won’t we!
Ming: I don’t know, Mum – you are so difficult sometimes!
Me: Sigh!

The above was a rather rowdy exchange today about a few dishes, which escalated into a bit of a war of utter miscommunication, diatribe, then, finally reconciliation (with a caveat to not mention the dishes again!)

In the meantime, my prodigal (anti-dishes son) cleaned all of the outside windows, which is a massive job, and we sat down at the kitchen table to make lists of chores. This little chore-meeting didn’t go particularly well because we were arrowing our foreheads against each other quite boppily until Ming suggested a hug (a few hours later!)

And then he said, “Mum, I am on your side, I am your best friend, I am sorry we don’t understand each other and, at the moment, I hate your guts but I still love you.”

Perhaps it is a male/female thing – initiative? I don’t know but one thing for sure is that, now that my hands are nearly better from this stupid pompholyx I will not be mentioning dishes again. After all, our Ming is doing everything else in his power to keep things on an even keel, including me.

So I salute my brat!

59 Comments »

Queenie and chicks

IMG_3349

They were waiting for me outside the back door this morning so I tossed little bits of bread to Queenie but the chicks got to them first, like miniature vultures – gleefully chirping!

30 Comments »

House of cards

We live in a very old house – part of it is over 100 years old and, ironically, it is that side of the house that is the most structurally sound. Other parts of the house have become problematic over the years – bricks crumbling on one side, the ceiling in the big bedroom breaking one day when a builder put his foot through it and nearly fell into the house when repairing some of the roof. Obviously these things have now been repaired (well, bandaged!)

On the weekend a few more things fell apart; the back veranda door fell right out if its grooves, onto an outside table (it has been threatening to do this for some time). Luckily, the table saved it from smashing into a million pieces of glass. Then its accompanying fly-screen door fell out of its grooves into the house (these two door have a very close relationship).

Then, as if all of the doors in the house were following some sort of evil ritual, the shower door in the bathroom also fell out of its hinges – well, sort of. You see, it was a sliding door that had stopped sliding, so, in order to get into the shower, you had to hold your breath and squeeze through a small gap. Yesterday, Ming became so annoyed with this that he took half of the door off and propped it against the remaining bit of the door. He didn’t prop it very well, however so, when I had to go to the loo in the middle of the night, I bumped into it and it fell into the shower recess. Thankfully, it didn’t smash and is now outside with the rest of the rebellious doors.

Today, the kitchen door is nearly off its hinges, the front fly-wire door doesn’t close unless you force it to, and the key to the glass front door won’t work properly (which means we often have to climb into the house through a window, although that won’t be necessary anymore since we now have an almost door-less house).

Ming has been trying to fix all of these things this morning and has done a great job and I am very proud of him for trying to do this kind of thing by himself when he has never been taught. I like the way he is figuring out how to fix things without anybody’s help and with very little nagging from me. He is doing jobs I used to watch Anthony do, and he is doing them willingly and cleverly.

I had a pretty grim weekend with all of the doors in my own house-of-cards breaking, or falling, but I guess that’s what has to happen before the ‘fix you’ thing can happen. Anthony always waited until things were totally broken before he would address the situation: doors, pumps, hoses, fences, vacuum cleaners, me.

My pompholyx was finally healed enough for me to visit Ants yesterday and, when he saw my scarred hands, he reached out and stroked my wrists with his cool fingers, and watched me carefully as I smiled through unshed tears of utter misery at being separated from him.

Me: I can’t even do the bloody dishes because I am not supposed to go anywhere near rubber gloves or detergent.
Ants: Well bring me home and I can do all of that for you!
Me: But Ants, it’s nearly 3pm – it’s too late to bring you home now and, I hate to say this, but you are too sick with the PD to help me – you will only make it all harder.
Ants: (Silence)
Me: Oh great, so have I hurt your feelings now?
Ants: No.
Me: As soon as my hands are better I will pick you up to go out – is that okay?
Ants: Has to be, doesn’t it.

Then, surprisingly mobile for that time of day, Ants walked me out to the parking lot and waved goodbye. I stopped at the end of the driveway to the nursing home to check in the rear vision mirror that he was going back inside the nursing home. I watched as he slowly turned the walker around and limped back to the nursing home doors which opened automatically. And, when he disappeared through those doors, I tried not to think about anything except how well those doors worked!

Oh and the ducklings keep getting through the faulty door of their chookpen – argh. In one more week they will be too big to get out until I open the gate (which hopefully won’t break before then!)

IMG_3583

The best thing about a house of cards is that it is so interesting!

60 Comments »

When the carer gets sick

It is now a few weeks since I was first afflicted with pompholyx on my hands and I have now seen three doctors (well, four, if I count Dr Google) and I now have all the antibiotics, steroids and ointments I should need to get rid of it. The blisters on my hands have now been replaced with peeling, bleeding skin and I am finding it painful to do everyday, normal things like turning a tap on and off, prepare a meal and even holding the steering wheel of the car hurts. I’ve read heaps of articles about pompholyx and seen some gruesome pictures that look just like my own hands, so I feel quite knowledgeable about the condition now.

A few days ago I noticed a few blisters on my left foot too but, like an idiot, I just kept hoping they’d miraculously go away, but this morning I woke up to two very swollen feet, with all of the toes on one foot covered in sores and one on the other foot too. (I think my feet must have been scratching each other in my sleep!) The left foot was so painful that when I jumped out of bed to take a closer look, I got a shock when I could hardly walk.

My first thought was how could I take Anthony out for afternoon today? That was my plan and I had told him yesterday when I had two normal feet. As usual my incredible mother came to the rescue and visited him and I spoke to him twice on the phone, the first time quite tearfully but the second time (my mother rang me from his room at the nursing home) more cheerfully.

There are a lot of mixed opinions about pompholyx but one thing I have found in almost everything I have read about it so far is that it can be caused by excessive perspiration. This makes a lot of sense to me because, despite the fact that I have always had a problem with this during our Australian summers, it has never been as bad as this year. In fact, a few weeks ago, I joked with a friend that I might have to get botox to stop it (I had read about this treatment and this was just before the pompholyx hit me). It turns out that this may well be a necessity for me if the pompholyx doesn’t go away with all the other stuff I’m taking for it. I could get my frown lines done too – haha!

On the scale of diseases, this is certainly minor and I know many people and friends who are battling much more severe health challenges, diseases, chronic pain and, yes, grief. So I feel a bit embarrassed to be so upset about what has suddenly happened to my hands and feet, but the main reason I am so upset is because it is obviously going to stop me from seeing Ants for awhile.

Ming, who did a whole bunch of errands and other jobs for me today, said (during one of the Home and Away commercial breaks), “I’ll do anything you want me to, Mum – just give me a list!” Then we had a conversation about stress:

Ming: You must be really stressed – look at your foot!
Me: I am now twice as stressed as I was before you said I must be really stressed so shut up!
Ming: Why can’t you just have fun, Mum?
Me: I can’t really have fun with this thing with my hands and feet.
Ming: I could take you out for lunch, to the movies even – popcorn? Pizza? I’ll do anything!
Me: Could you do a load of washing, vacuum the house, wash the dishes, do the groceries, visit Dad and bring me some panadol tomorrow?
Ming: Oh – okay. That’s a lot of jobs and you haven’t given me much warning.
Me: It’s called initiative, Ming.
Ming: No, no, no – you know I hate that word!
Me: Well guess what – I hate the word stress!

The hardest thing about getting any sort of sick when you are caring for a loved one with a proper disease (Anthony) and another one who has just had a second lot of spinal surgery (Ming) and all the other people who you care for, is the feeling of utter helplessness that you can’t help because you are sick too. For me it is, hopefully, just a temporary sick but it may go on and on (pompholyx tends to do that).

Apart from the spasmodic asthma attacks that began four years ago, when I was still working at the university, Ming was still at school, and Anthony’s health was beginning to deteriorate, this is the worst diseasy thing that has happened to me. I’m a bit scared I guess because I’m the carer – I can’t get sick! I am needed!

To those bloggers and friends and relatives who know this feeling, I salute you for your courage and honesty in talking so openly about these things. My empathy has grown a thousand-fold because of this pompholyx thing.

70 Comments »

Bed-time magic: how a peahen puts her chicks to bed

IMG_3403

IMG_3405

IMG_3407

IMG_3408

IMG_3412

IMG_3414

IMG_3416

IMG_3423

18 Comments »

The loveliness of dirt

The other evening, I was watching the ducklings and peachicks go to bed in their different ways and, because I keep forgetting to take a chair or stool to sit on next to the yards, I just sat down on the ground.

The clothes I had on were my ‘city’ clothes – I looked in my files for photos that would go with this post but couldn’t find any that were dirty enough!

11 Comments »

Motherhood 2 (a funny story)

The three people I see most of are Anthony, my mother and Ming of course. For some reason I sometimes get their names confused, as if they are identical triplets or something. So I will often call Ming ‘Ants’ and vice versa, but I have also called Ants ‘Mother’ a few times and called my mother ‘Ming’. Do other people do this?

Anyway, last night, just before Ming went off to his shed to go to bed, he gave me a big hug and I said, “You are such a beautiful son,” and he said, “That’s because I’m your mum.”

Obviously he’d meant to say, “That’s because you’re my mum,” but he got the words the wrong way around just like I get the names the wrong way around.

After we stopped laughing hysterically, he left for his shed and, hearing his footsteps outside my office door, I shouted, “G’night Mummy!” and he shouted back, “G’night, darling!”

Still laughing about it!

36 Comments »

Motherhood

It has been fascinating to watch Queenie and the peachicks out and about. They roam freely now everywhere and are quite used to my presence. Sometimes they forage on the lawn just outside my office door where I can watch them and talk to them through the fly screen. It’s almost as if they have come over to say hello.

IMG_3310

IMG_3340

IMG_3349

I still haven’t found a mate for Baby Turkey, but I promised him I would by next week and he perked up a little bit.

IMG_3327

Godfrey and Zaruma, despite being male, continue to guard the ducklings. They are out and about for much of the day now too, always with the two male mothers guarding them – Godfrey with hisses and Zaruma with a little smile on his funny face.

IMG_3322

IMG_3333

This morning my mother came over and we cried together and it was like a gift of rain on a rose bush thought dead, but now budding again; it was like a single dewdrop until you see there are hundreds of them; it was like a hidden stream, full of pebbles and tadpoles and lilies and, well (I can’t help myself here!) ducklings.

Motherhood is a powerful thing.

23 Comments »

The Peacock Family Adventures 1

This is my first attempt at a children’s picture book story – very much a first draft, but lots of fun. It’s dedicated to M, J, T, M and K.

The Peacock family lived on a little farm called Paradise.

Daddy Peacock’s name was King because he had the most powerful beak in the world.

IMG_0998

Mummy Peahen’s name was Queenie. King and Queenie loved each other very much.

The kiss

King and Queenie eventually had three peachicks: a little girl called True, and the twins, Kungfu and Mischief. When they were little, Queenie would organize tree-climbing competitions. She would fly to the top of the huge avocado tree and say, ‘ready, set, go!’ True always won because she was the biggest.

IMG_3301

The twins, Kungfu and Mischief, tried their best but they could never beat True to the top of the tree.

IMG_3300

Sometimes they all fell down to the ground but they never hurt themselves because Queenie showed them how to use their wings like parachutes. True already knew she had wings so, when Queenie was having her afternoon nap, True showed her little sister and brother how to fly.

When Kungfu learned to fly, he was so happy he flew straight into his dad’s feathers – BANG. But King didn’t mind at all because he had plenty of feathers and he loved to show them off.

Mischief was very good at tricks. She would sometimes pretend to fall out of the tree so that King would have to catch her. But King wasn’t fooled. He would play hide-and-seek with Mischief until she gave up and called ‘Daddy”. Then he would say BOO!

IMG_0840

Kungfu was the first peachick to grow feathers and every day he practised doing what his dad did. It was very hard to begin with but one day, he did it!

But True, being such a truthful peahen, would say, “Kungfu, you look ridiculous!” Then they would have an argument and Mischief would laugh and laugh and laugh, but very quietly.

IMG_2687

Mischief, being such a mischievous peahen, knew exactly how to laugh without looking like she was laughing. After all, she didn’t want to hurt Kungfu‘s feelings.

But Kungfu always knew when Mischief was laughing at him so he would wait until she was looking at her reflection in the pond and WHAMMO he would bite her big toes – both of them.

King and Queenie decided that they needed to talk to their children about their behaviour.

241

“Do you think Mischief is a bit too mischievous, Darling?” asked Queenie.

“No, Sweetie-pie. She’s just growing up. I’m more worried that she will fall into her reflection in the pond,” said King.

“Yes, I’ll talk to her about that. What about True – do you think she is a bit too truthful, Darling?” asked Queenie.

“Yes and no. She really needs to stop pushing Kungfu‘s buttons,” said King, wisely.

“How can we stop Kungfu from biting Mischief‘s toes?” asked Queenie.

King thought for a moment.

“I have a good idea, Sweetie-pie. Let’s see if True can ask the sky. She is really good at that.”

IMG_2481

That night, as the Peacock Family settled down for the night, high up in the avocado tree, True waited until everyone was asleep, then she asked the sky.

And the big, red, pink, orange, yellow, beautiful sky answered her.

IMG_2408

Then, all of a sudden, Kungfu turned over in his sleep and accidentally kicked True off her branch.

To be continued ….

50 Comments »