The Great Australian Christmas

I recently read an article in the Sydney Morning Herald telling me that my Australian Christmas is not real. Our snow is replaced with sand and our frozen hands are replaced with peeling noses. 

Who does this journo think he is?  

Like many Australians, it's the only Christmas I know. I didn't make snow angels under my perfectly groomed pine christmas tree in my childhood, nor did I rug up with red and white hand knitted scarves and jumpers while singing Christmas Carols outside my neighbours homes. 

Despite this, my memories of Christmas in Australia are real and have been nothing like the Home Alone movie. 

The Christmas Day of my childhood started very early in oppressing suburban heat having barely slept the night before. Sheer excitement of what I would find the following morning kept me awake, similar to children all over the world. My parents would have spent the last few hours of Christmas Eve putting together bikes and doll houses and setting the gifts perfectly under our tree. They would feign annoyance at being woken at 5am, but secretly couldn't wait until we unwrapped our presents, had breakfast and then had a morning nap. 

My day would be filled with various festive treats; cold meat platters, salads, prawns, trifle (yes, the full bowl of custard and cream and jellies), Christmas cake, soda drinks, and tropical fruit. 

Sometimes we would spend the day at Balmoral Beach playing with new water toys and smelling like sunblock. Sometimes we would remain at home riding new push bikes with the neighbourhood gang. Always, our Christmas Day was spent outdoors. 

When I became a parent, we started a new tradition of a champagne breakfast in Nielson Park with friends and family. We swam in the harbour, sipped champagne and ate from platters of gourmet cheeses and crackers. Our expat friends would join us, thankful not to be battling a freezing day in sleet and drizzle. Bikinis, kaftans and thongs were our friends. 

The rain kept us away this year. We ate croissants in a bakery in Bondi instead, and then headed to my sisters house for a large family festive lunch, under cover. We then enjoyed an evening with friends for yet another festive feast, sheltered from the continuing drizzle. 

A wonderful day despite the weather. 

It doesn't matter if its snowing, raining, or sunshine. Christmas Day is Christmas Day. Its real wherever you are in the world. It's the people you surround yourself with that make it special. 

Merry Christmas 2013! 

Christmas Fairy Maddie lighting the Christmas Pudding

What is My Crazy Husband Doing Now?

Dear Friends, 

Some of you may be aware that my husband has decided to put his "crazy" to the test by running the New York Marathon on the 4th November. Barefoot. 

Yep. No shoes in New York for 42kms. Ouch. 

Why would anyone think this is a a good idea? Well it's fairly simple. He's eccentric and he has an amazing heart. 

Since the 80's, John has been a strong supporter of Amnesty International focusing on human rights. As a bleeding heart myself, I love him for doing something to raise awareness and make a difference to those in our world who do not have a voice. He's not just talking about it, he has put himself through a challenge over the past year to get him into a position where he can run 42kms without shoes to raise money for some of the most marginalised people in the world.

Amnesty International started in 1961 by a British Lawyer who had the courage to speak up for two Portuguese students who were jailed for raising a toast to freedom.  Today, Amnesty works relentlessly for people around the world who are denied the fundamental human rights that most of us take for granted. 

As an Australian, I am relatively safe. I have a roof over my head, food on the table and I have the freedom to speak to whoever I want to, about whatever I want, whenever I want without being in danger of being stoned to death. 

As a woman I have access to education, a career and the freedom to chose who I want to spend my time with. 

As a mother, I am safe in the knowledge that my daughter will not be forced to marry a man three times her age, and my sons will not be forced into joining a war that is not theirs. 

As a wife, I know my husband will not be jailed and tortured for speaking out against the injustices of all of the above. 

I am in awe of John and people just like him. They dont just pay lip service to doing something. They don't turn a blind eye or justify crimes against humanity. They put their money (and bare feet) where their mouth is. They are the do-ers of the world. Do-gooders, bleeding hearts, tree huggers. And I am extremely proud to be married to one. 

After 12 months of training, too many blisters to count and a loss of nearly 20 kgs, John departs for New York  this week to prepare for the biggest challenge of all. His first marathon. He has self funded the trip, and has also pledged to raise an additional $9,000AUD for Amnesty International. 

If you have a spare couple of dollars that you are able to throw into the bucket, or have the energy to whip a hat around the office, John and Amnesty would really appreciate it. 

Tax deductible donations can be made here:  John's Amnesty International Fundraiser

A blog of Johns journey can be found here: His Blog!

And the Twitter hashtag if you want to follow him over the next few weeks is #running4rights

Thanks for taking the time to read this, and please join me in wishing John all the best on a massive run! 

Lisa 

Doesn't he look exhausted! 

Friends.

This week found me thinking about new and old friends and how fortunate I am to have so many wonderful people in my life. Those amazing people who I can laugh with, cry with, vent at, listen to, love. And at the end of all that, people who choose to remain in my life. 

A dear friend has been on my mind a lot lately, she lives overseas and I haven't seen her for 2 years! We chat on Facebook and text each other every now and then, but its not the same. It's not like having her in the same city for a quick catch up over a glass of bubbles. Or on the other end of a local phone call that doesn't cost my kidneys.

We were besties well before the term was invented. We met at the beginning of high school and have laughed together ever since. We initiated each other in our first holiday without parents. (Bali). We shared intimate secrets. We gossiped (but not about each other). We cried on each others shoulders as teenage love turned to a painful heartbreak. We laughed at each others jokes and stories until we cracked our ribs and could laugh no more. We fought. At times we hated each other. Especially when she threw out my favourite pair of dusty pink shoes that i absolutely adored! She was the first one to wish me Happy Birthday for many many years. She is the only one who can ever say - "you are NOT wearing THAT are you?" without me feeling the need to punch her. 20 years ago, I was her bridesmaid - she chose my dress! She honoured our friendship even more by choosing me to be godmother to one of her gorgeous girls. 

Sadly we drifted apart when life seemed to take over while we started careers and raised children and struggled through our "every day". Life got in the way, and then distance got in the way even more. 

A message at 2am this week asking which country I was in made my heart sing! Especially because I could see that her location (love social media) was at the airport! I had so much adrenalin from that message that I couldn't sleep.

Finally, after not seeing her for two years we stole a few hours for a quick catch up and it's been the best two hours of my month! 

Life happens around us, and we slowly move betweens friendships. After seeing her again today, I vow to our friendship that I will not let another 2 years grow between us. 

The fact that she lives so far away just means I have an excuse to indulge in my passion for travel.

xxx

Love What You do

I have a pretty good life. Gorgeous family, great friends, and I love my job. 

Its true. I love the people I work with, I love the company I work for, and I really love what I get to do on a daily basis. 

AND 

I love telling people what I do and where I work and more importantly, I love it when people realise that I'm not just paying lip service to some ideal work/life balance, that I am genuinely living it. 

I caught up with an ex colleague yesterday after not seeing each other for 2 years, and it was such a delight to hear him comment on how "happy" and relaxed I looked. 

The day before, I had lunch with a friend who insisted I've had Botox. (she's a doctor so I squinshed up my face to prove to her my face was all me!). 

Its not just that I "look" happy and relaxed, I feel it. I have so much energy, and I feel as though I have truly found my place. Not one day since I started at that company have I felt the dread of a work day. Sure there are a few days that seem to go slower than others, and Friday is always the best day of the week - but every day is rewarding and different. 

A few years ago I was working in a large global organisation in a job that I really did love. I worked with some of the most amazing people who remain very dear friends, and I learnt some valuable skills that have set me on my path. But toward the end of my time there, I wasn't too happy and it was fairly obvious to those who knew me. 

After leaving and taking some time out from corporate life, I returned last year to a smaller company in a slightly different role. I was still able to bring my expertise to the role; the new company embraced it, and empowered me with greater challenges. I am recognised for my contributions and I really feel valued. 

The best part of my new job is that my children see me doing something that I love, and hearing me talk about my days with positive energy. I am passing on the lesson in life that work doesn't have to be a chore. If you follow your heart and are passionate about the role you play in the world, you will be happy. 

And more importantly, champagne is so much better than Botox! 

Would you let your son play League?

I'm torn. I am the mother of two boys who absolutely love the game of rugby league. I also happen to love watching the game, but I hate what the game has done to my family. 

One son is 11 years old and he has been playing with the same group of boys since they were 5. It's been a pleasure watching them grow and develop into great little players. Their coach is an ex-A grade player (and an ex Wallaby), and is training the boys to play fairly and confidently. 

My other son is a 17year old. The rules are different. The stakes are higher. And the boys are bigger with a hell of a lot more adrenaline and aggression. 

On Mothers Day this year, my 17yr old was playing at the same time as my little guy, and as I could only be at one game at the one time, I went to the youngest son's game. A phone call revealed my older son had been injured and was at the hospital waiting to be seen in emergency. It's not a nice phone call to get. 

After an Xray, an ultrasound and a CT Scan, we were told that my son had a posterior dislocation of the sterno-clavicular joint. Sounds fancy right? Well it is. It's that join between the sternum and the clavicle, and it was pushed in and pressing on his arteries. And his airway (he was having trouble breathing). It's quite rare to have this happen, in fact there have been less than 100 reported cases since 1824. Thankfully we were in the hands of amazing orthopaedic surgeons, cardiovascular surgeons, cardio thoracic, and beautiful caring nurses of Royal Prince Alfred. 

One doctor told me our son was extremely lucky. The injury was such that it could only have been caused through excessive force (think of those adrenaline, testosterone 17 year old boys), and that had it have been one centimetre to the left, his spine would have been snapped. A centimetre higher, and his neck would have been snapped, and any more force, it could have severed his artery and I would no longer have my beautiful boy. 

I waited three hours for him to come out of recovery from surgery, and then I called the club to let them know he wouldn't be playing for the rest of the season. If I had my way, he wouldn't be playing ever again. The club's manager really didn't care, or he hadn't been versed in customer service. He disputed that an incident took place because the referee and the linesmen didn't report it. Even when I asked about the incident report (because lets face it, a child leaves the field in an ambulance, surely an incident report must have been completed), he still denied there was an incident because.... the referee didn't record it. 

So I went to the NSW NRL. And here's where it got really interesting. They did their job - calling me as soon as they read my email with expressions of concern. And then they gathered some reports from the referees and linesmen. 

And they wrote me a letter. 

They considered this an "accident" that can happen from time to time in a game like rugby. 

The referee and linesmen reported nothing untoward during that game that they could recollect. 

Both clubs had been approached for comments. 

They also included in the letter the regulatory accreditations of the referees, linesmen, groundsmen, water boys etc. (But failed to confirm if the people on the field were actually accredited).

They were happy for me to provide some solutions on how to make the game safer. 

Here's where I'm torn. 

The way to make this game safer for my children is for them not to play. Ever. Because  according to the team at NSW NRL who have the power to educate and make our kids safe are happy with - "accidents like this happen from time to time"

Because teenage boys are big and they are allowed to jump on a player holding a ball even after the referee has called "held"

Because referees are normal people who sometimes miss an "illegal tackle".

Because even after a referee has called held, and then supposedly does not see another big teenage boy jump on the back of a player already on the ground holding a ball yet gives the penalty kick, cannot remember an "incident". 

Because even if a player is taken to hospital in an ambulance, has two surgeries, the club manager doesn't even have the courtesy to ask how a member of his club is. 

Because I am very lucky and grateful that I still have my son. 

My son is now lying in a hospital bed again after getting a post surgical infection. This is his final year of high school and this will be his third week off school due to this incident. Oops, I mean "accident which can happen from time to time". His HSC is not looking great. 

He has lost his social surroundings, a sport that he loves and to me it seems he has lost motivation. 

To say I am slightly angry at the sport, and the response we have been given is an understatement. And yet I am still torn about my younger son and when I should pull him out of the game. 

Young Dying Mum needs your help.

There was a moment in my day today when the universe stood still - if only for a second. My heart stopped beating, the clouds stopped moving and everyone around me walked and talked in slow motion. And then it clicked back into place and my mind was racing. 

What can I do? How can I help? How much time? Shit. Shit. Shit. 

The word "shit" just kept going around and around in my head and eventually it was the only word I could say. 

My friend. My lovely young friend. A struggling single mother of a beautiful pre-teen boy was no longer in remission. All I could say was "shit". 

Her son was likely to be burying her before testosterone managed his teenage life; sadly she would be the second parent he's buried, and it broke my heart. There is no guarantee life is meant to be fair, but "shit" - this isn't in the playbook either. 

After collecting my thoughts and my struggle with more than one word, I managed to ask her if she were given a cheque for something tangible, what would she spend it on. 

She would like to take her son on an 'around the world trip' to share some magical moments together in some magical places. 

And that's when I realised how I could help. 

Travelling is the lolly of my life. I could relate to her wish for one last "hoorah" exploring places with the most important person in her life. Even knowing the risks of her medical condition and knowing that no travel insurance company would likely insure her.... I thought her wish was fantastic and totally appropriate. 

So here's my public pledge. I am going to help make this happen. 

In August, our sons rugby team are going to hold a Trivia night in the inner city (Sydney) to raise money to send them on an amazing adventure. A gorgeous medical friend has offered to help repatriate her (if something happens while she is away) and I can assist in writing her travel/medical emergency response plan for her holiday. 

Here is where the universe answers. I need prizes to auction. Her cause needs exposure. I need a contact for affordable accommodation. I need an airline to offer flights. I need kind people to reach into their hearts and donate money. I need a miracle to pull this idea off. 

If you can help, or know of anyone who can help, please pass on my details. 

Time is of the essence.