Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts

Monday, February 01, 2010

18 years

I was 18 years old when we first started talking about "when we're old and grey." When I came home and told my Mum that we were planning on getting married her reaction wasn't quite what I was looking for, she was wary of me committing so young.

One of Adam's friends took it upon himself to tell me to back off, I asked why he was telling me he had a problem with Adam and I being engaged, wasn't he Adam's friend? I was so furious that I made him drive me to Adam's place and tell Adam what he'd said to me. I don't think he was expecting that.

In the end we took the path of least resistance and agreed to wait a while before making anything official. It didn't really matter to us in any practical sense as we had no intention of either moving in together or marrying till a few years down the track anyway. But I'm still kind of irritated by the assumption that I didn't know what I was doing way back then.

Eventually there was a dinner, and a proposal, and a ring. Which all felt kind of staged, as though we were going through the motions in order to satisfy other people's need for formalities. I think I'm a bit deficient in the romance department because I'm quite sure Adam remembers it all rather differently. We told my parents and his, my parents threw an engagement party for us and I gave up half my wardrobe to storage of household goods that wouldn't be used for another 18 months or so.

Originally we'd planned for a wedding date after I finished my university degree, but after a year off to work in a bookshop and then starting over in a new course I was still a student when the 1st of Feb 1992 arrived. We were married in the church I'd grown up in, I was 21 and as long as there was no mention of the word "obey" and we were "husband and wife" rather than "man and wife" I was happy.

18 years, 3 kids and a whole lot of living later I'm still happy, still married and still in love.

Adam

Not too bad at all, I think I'll keep him.

Adam

Tuesday, December 01, 2009

I'm really rather fond of this time of year

Here we are at the beginning of December, my house is strewn with Christmas decorations, the kids have decorated the tree, we have strings of lights ready to festoon the garden, I have all my special Christmas candles out, the Advent calendar is hanging by the dining table, there's Christmas music loaded up on the iPod and I've started my annual re-read of Connie Willis' Miracle and Other Christmas Stories. Yes, I'm an atheist celebrating a pagan mid-winter festival co-opted by the Christian church to commemorate the birth of a man who was was almost certainly not born on the 25th of December and I'm doing so in the middle of summer.

Of course I'm also rather stressed by all the STUFF that has to be done in the next few weeks and when people ask me how I am I tend to reply "A little weary..." and I whinge about being asked to do extra things like make 40-odd jelly cups and cook brownies for a year 6 mufti day on the same night as I'm hosting a P&C executive meeting at my place and having my mother-in-law over for dinner. But I do it any way. Because it matters to the kids. But I made Adam cook the brownies. (That was last night by the way.)

Is there a point to all of this? Well may you ask...there did seem to be one when I started....
(It would help if I wasn't half-way through my second glass of Stanton and Killeen muscat.)

Oh, I know! Christmas, it makes me happy, for lots of reasons that are to do with family and friends and celebrating life and sharing and thinking of others and reconnecting with people we don't see often and good food and drink and silly traditions and memories and endings and beginnings. So what I thought I might try and do through December is write a little about some of those things and try to explain why I, I really like Christmas.

Meanwhile, I'm going to finish this glass of wine and eat another chocolate elf.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Why congratulations?

So, it's like this, some people you know are getting married. They may be close friends, relatives perhaps, or merely acquaintances. They are a cis-gendered, heterosexual couple with an unremarkable age difference, they share the same beliefs and cultural heritage. You've just been told they are engaged, or perhaps you're writing a message for them on the occasion of their wedding.

There are a number of things you might say but I'll bet "Congratulations!" is right there at the top of the list of appropriate sentiments to express. It has certainly been my default message, "Congratulations and best wishes, love Mim" (Damn I'm bad at writing on greeting cards.)

Why? Why congratulations? Has someone won a prize? Overcome some great obstacle? Excelled at something and is therefore deserving of a reward?

I started thinking about this pretty much out of the blue and when I got to the "won a prize?" question my brain yelled "OH ICK!" because it brought to mind all the worst phrases used to describe two people getting married. He has won the girls hand in marriage - she's a possession. She has caught herself a man - how exactly, by trickery?

Then there's the obstacle thing. I can see congratulations being a sentiment I might very much want to express if the couple in question had been forced to battle for their right to choose to marry, but really, that couple I described above are taking the socially approved path, far from a path strewn with obstacles, they are cheered on by all and sundry.

I'm thinking that from now on I won't be saying "Congratulations!" when someone tells me they are getting married, instead I'll go for something along the lines of "How wonderful, I'm so happy for you both and I wish you all the best for your future together." It takes a little longer to type but it has the virtue of saying what I mean.*


*Actually even that phrasing makes the assumption that marriage is an unequivocally good thing, which I'm not at all sure is true, but I figure if two people have decided to do it they clearly believe it's a good thing for them** at any rate.

**Let's not enter the territory of the couples for whom the first thing that pops into your head is "Oh dear god, you're kidding!" or something along those lines.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Sisterhood Award

Liz over at Eternal Lizdom has bestowed upon me another award. This one is titled the Sisterhood Award.



First, share memories or thoughts of childhood or adulthood sister-friends. Funny, sad, whatever.

1. Attending Physics Society parties at Sydney Uni with Ariane. The dry ice in a sealed bottle trick never stops being funny.

2. In 5th grade, rolling around my best friend Rowena's bedroom laughing ourselves silly while quoting the Goon Show back and forth at each other.

3. A couple of years ago, feeling comfortable enough with my friend Sue to go swimming in her backyard pool wearing a borrowed rashie and my undies. The last time I was at Sue's place (for a candle party - like tupperware only with candles) we ended up sitting around talking about life the universe and everything for a couple of hours after everyone else had gone home.

4. Mothers group. Cathy, Malyn, Romaine and I spent many hours sitting around sharing all while our kids played. These were the people who kept me sane when Tom was a baby and toddler.

5. My mum. With whom I can talk about anything, who never judges and is unfailingly supportive.

Second, pass the award on to however many bloggers you'd like to share this with- but make sure you share this award specifically with bloggers that you feel a kinship with. Bloggers you learn from or feel that you teach, bloggers you've connected with in a really familiar and friendly way.

1. Shrinking Yoda

2. Shrinking Tardie

3. Indian Ink aka Lisa66

4. Ariane's Little World

5. MPJ

Sunday, February 08, 2009

Food and love (Part 1)

Some time ago Liz posted a piece titled Love You With Food, it ends with these lines:
There is a legacy of love and food and cooking in my family. I'm so glad to be part of it and so glad it doesn't end with me.
I wish I could say the same thing about my family. It's not that there was any lack of love, or indeed of good food, in my childhood - far from it! But somewhere along the way food became a problem instead of an uncomplicated celebration and the legacy I inherited could be better described as a fraught relationship, with food often being both the focus of special times and at the same time an enemy to be controlled and guarded against.

It's hard for me to write about this without feeling that I'm being too harsh about the choices my mum made when I was a kid and as reached my late teens. I know she was doing the best she could as a mother and many of her choices are ones I have made too. My dad played his part in shaping my relationship with food too, and mum's for that matter, but he wasn't ever much involved in the shopping and cooking side of things, he comes into play more on the emotional side and with 20/20 hindsight we now know that much of what he did was down to him being bipolar (he was diagnosed about 5 years ago).

So I'm going to talk about my good food memories first.

Liz writes about the foods her mom cooked for holiday meals, dishes that were loved by particular family members -
"something that my mother [had] made for that person. Ryan's Stove Top. Jason's Roasted Potatoes and Carrots. Jeff's Angel Food Cake. Ted's Chocolate Cream. Martha's Cheesecake."
My mum did cook special things for us, I'm told I requested veal casserole, which featured regularly at our family table, for dinner on my 3rd birthday and I remember boiled fruit cakes being made, also for birthdays. What I don't remember much of is Mum cooking anything just for the fun of it, I don't think she really liked cooking very much, so most of my good memories of food and Mum are of once off type experiences. Except for when we were camping, there were lots of camping trips and something about an open fire seemed to demand frivolous fare - damper cooked in the coals, twist bread toasted on sticks over the open fire, marshmallows all singed and gooey, jaffles made in a proper jaffle iron with their edges burnt black and filled with hot baked beans and melted cheese. Good times.

Grandma (Mum's mum) and Nana (Dads' mum) both had special things they would make for when we came to visit. Grandma did the Christmas cake every year, there were always homemade scones (apparently she used to win prizes for her scones) and slices for afternoon tea, and baked dinners at Grandma's house were often followed by a baked fruit crumble. Nana used to make a fabulously sherry drenched trifle which I famously loved so much that when I was very young I was discovered after the meal with the empty trifle dish spooning the remaining sherry out of the bottom of the dish and exclaiming "Lovely gravy!" She also made rock cakes, I think I have her recipe for them somewhere but I've never made them, must do that one day, they were good and we'd get to take home the left-over ones with us when it was time to leave. Nan's Christmas specialty was hot brandy sauce which she would nurse over "a bead of gas" for hours on end, used to drive my dad nuts. We might mock but it was awesome with Christmas pudding. My brother makes it now, he's less precious about the slow heating, it tastes about the same but it tends to separate a little and I don't remember Nan's doing that.

When I was first going out with Adam and he started coming over to our place for dinner my friends all asked him if he'd survived the ultimate culinary test. Had my mother fed him the dreaded Chicken and Broccoli*? Of course the answer was yes, it was one of my mum's staple feeding of guests dishes, I loved it but I gather it caused much trauma to my friends over the years.

Oh, here's another one! Each year we would go to the Royal Easter Show, almost always on the Thursday before Good Friday. Mum and Dad would come and pick us up from school at lunchtime and we'd spend the afternoon and evening at the show, coming home after the fireworks display. The food that was available at the show back then was truly awful, overpriced and almost exclusively deep-fried, pretty much my mother's worst nightmare in food terms, so Mum would try and take food with us so we wouldn't have to buy dinner there. One year she made Cornish Pasties, they were awesome, I have the most vivid memory of unwrapping them from their foil packages, dolloping tomato sauce on them and savouring every bite. As far as I can recall this was the only time Mum ever made them.

When we were living in the US, in Boulder, Colorado, my mum perfected the high altitude pavlova. I gather her first attempt as per cooking in Sydney was not a success but pretty soon she had it down to a fine art and the Aussie dessert (yeah yeah, I know, shut up you Kiwis and let us cling to our illusions :P) was shared far and wide. Or, you know, with anyone who came to dinner or at any "bring a plate" function. I seem to remember there was some re-adjustment required on returning to Sydney, Mum being unable to remember what she used to do before the high altitude tweaks were made.

I'm actually really reaching for good memories here. I know there must have been many, many wonderful meals and a great deal of my mother's love for the family poured into providing for us. It kind of scares and saddens me that the not so wonderful stuff has overshadowed the good stuff so much. In fact, I'm getting a bit depressed thinking about it, don't know when I'll ever get around to writing Part 2....


*BBQ chook cut up, placed in a casserole dish with a layer of steamed broccoli on top. Then pour over a can of cream of mushroom soup mixed with some milk, thyme, lemon juice and maybe extra mushrooms, sprinkle with grated cheese and bake till hot and bubbly with the cheese nicely browned. Serve over rice and glare at any child that dares protest (my sister wasn't a fan and nor are my kids sadly).

Sunday, February 01, 2009

Seventeen years

In September of 1988, one month shy of my 18th birthday I went to a party I had not been invited to. My best mate's girlfriend had been invited so we figured that was close enough. I knew a fair few of the people there, well, their faces and names at any rate, they were people who had been 2 years ahead of me at high school. It was a pretty good party, we danced and were silly and there may have been some booze involved (ok, there was definitely half a bottle of vodka involved but SHHH don't tell my mum!*). My parents were away on holiday for the weekend, I don't remember why I didn't go with them, I didn't have a job or anything, maybe I was supposed to be studying for the HSC? Anyway, at the end of the night my friends and I were heading back to my place to continue festivities and, um, I took this guy home with me (it's ok Mum - NOTHING HAPPENED!). Except here we are twenty years later and I still haven't got rid of him.

Three and a bit years later we got married.

Yesterday we abandoned the kids with my mum (or perhaps abandoned my mum with the kids?) and took ourselves off into the city for a bit of celebratory eating, theatre going and...er...sleeping, yep, that's what hotel rooms are for you know.

We had dinner at East Chinese Restaurant at Circular Quay then popped over to Portobello Cafe for coffee and tiramasu before wandering down to the Opera House to see The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged). We were a little early for the show so we sat on one of the benches looking over the harbour and watched the sun set.

The show was brilliant and hysterically funny. Adam and I had seen it before but neither of us remembered it very clearly and it has a significant element of improvisation and topical references, I'd go again in a heartbeat, in fact we're thinking if the opportunity arises we'll take the kids next time too. Nothing quite like laughing so hard it brings tears to the eyes, good for the soul that is.

On the way back to the hotel (we were staying overnight at the InterContinental) we picked up some chocolates from the Guylian Cafe, there's still half of them left for tonight, I'm hiding them from the kids.

This morning we were not woken by a dog's tail wagging with great force against the bookshelves beside our bed, or by a small boy climbing onto our bed and talking non-stop to said dog, or by the sound of children fighting. Instead we woke of our own accord - AT 6:15AM! Well, I did anyway, Adam was snoring gently still. I managed to drift off again till about 7:45am and then took another 45 minutes to actually get out of bed. We had breakfast at the buffet and then headed for home.

Happy wedding anniversary Adam. Thank you for a lovely evening and for 17 years of putting up with me. You're my best friend, a wonderful hubby and terrific dad, I love you.

*I know, this will be the day she finally remembers to check that link I sent her *waves* Hi Mum!