Six Weeks an Aussie

If being a mother is the hardest job in the world, being an uncle is the funnest.  Obligation exists, certainly. I love these kids, I want to protect them, I don't care for moments when they're starving or in immediate physical danger. I'm also, mostly, not responsible for them. I'm allowed to retreat to my sanctuary. I'm able to turn off, set my own hours, take unlimited PTO. In most cases this creates a bit of distance and opportunity to observe.  While I'm living here, though, things start to shift. For these kids' entire lives I've been less than a part-time parent, rather more like a substitute fun house. Now that I'm omnipresent in their homes there's more realness. I'm sometimes interacting with them while doing some sort of chore - cooking or cleaning up their mess. I step on their lego-eque toys from time to time. I try to take phone calls and can't hear over their screams, or their repetitive tv shows, or loud banging of water b...

 By all accounts I've lost track of the days. This isn't the sort of vacation (*cough*holiday*cough*) that gives a steady supply of highlights. All the moments with the kids are precious, giving the contradictory feelings of both urgency to document in its entirety and to remain present with them. I tend to err towards the ladder, looking to this trip as a way to cement memories in the children and forge a feeling of trust between us. Nothing is less appealing than the uncle who continuously goes into his notes to jot down the funny moment that just occurred, treating them as if I were making a nature documentary. That being said, I could use a bit more discipline in quickly getting things into writing as they happen. I may be excusing my lazy behavior for something more noble. In reality, I'm starting to lose a bit of balance. The way out is through, though with a bit less thicket. I'm not keen to rehash the last few days beat-by-beat, since in a lot of ways they are s...

The horses were canceled due to rain. That sucks. We wake up to a nice breakfast and the sour news of cancelation. The kids don’t seem too shaken up - they get to play Minecraft all day! We play on and off basically all day, which means a boring blog. At time of writing I’m a bit tired, anyway. Day 8 is all this. Day 9, early morning, we head to the golf course for the Junior league. Huxley and Callan are split into different skill groups. I follow around Callan, who’s joined by one of his friends. I pull around Lennox until he grows bored of the wagon and instead wishes to terrorize the local birds with a 7 iron. He generally stays out of the way. Jacki actually knows how to golf so she’s giving Callan some lessons. I’m not sure how to tell her this, I’ll stay far away when she reads this blog, but she reminds me a lot of our mother. Stand like this, arms out, chest up, eyes here, feet there. Swing, down, good, okay.. good try! Lot of words. Callan hits half of the balls well, seems d...

Friday morning and I'm feeling good. Refreshed, excited, eager to spend the day with the brother in law. Brendon (Wardy) Ward is a fixture of Narrabri, a quintessential bloke, known for a quick wit and a reliable howdy do. A true man of the people, this one. On his day off the two of us are squadding up while the kids are at school and daycare, starting with the shops. I'm in the market for a small keyboard, one that fits my niche purpose of a children's performance. Details to come. The gist is I use my loop machine and tiny bit of piano experience to piece together 45 minutes of entertainment for kids 4-9, perhaps younger if I can get some wigs, props, or other visual gags in order. I'm hoping I can use my time here to practice with my nephews, getting their valuable insight. They'll tell me the truth on whether I suck once they're a bit more used to me, I reckon? Regardless, I get a tight little 49 key beauty that will fit my suitcase back home, then pick up ...

Day 5 It's official - the blog is being seen by others. Not too surprising, you can't keep gold like this a secret for too long. I wasn't exactly planning on spreading this out far and wide, since I've struggled in the past with keeping a personal, diary-esqe tone in my writing when I know in the back of my head it's being read. Why put it online in the first place, you might ask? Got me stumped there, fair play. Days five and six were half days, so to speak. Some solid time reading and writing, afternoon naps, leftovers and light,  light  house chores. I don't do all that well with free time. I knew these days would await me before the trip was booked, so I can't quite complain, though it's a challenge all the same. How do you have a proper vacation? What's the right amount of self-motivation needed to enjoy a beer at the end of the day? Besides spending as much time with family as possible, what's the end goal of a six-week holiday? The blog pr...

 Hoping to catch up on my blogs today! Writing this on day 6, on the outer limits of my active memory. I blame my prom weekend, truthfully. I wake up on day 4 at 4:20, a marginal improvement. Something's gotta change. I'm up and slightly tired - so I call Becca and we chat for a bit on her commute to work... or from work? Don't make me do math in the middle of the night. I dawdle a bit but get out of bed by six or so to hang out with the kids before school. On usual weeks Jacki will work from Wednesday to Friday, where Lennox is watched by Lynn and Pete (His grandparents across the street) or daycare. It's Tuesday today, and Jacki agreed to fill in for an extra workday because Uncle Jesse is in town for babysitting duties. Of course I am! I'm genuinely happy to help. Jacki leaves ample instruction on what the kids need for school, written down on computer paper with a purple marker, a subtle metaphor for how a house with three kids morphs all aspects of life to some...

 With a bit of better sleep and a little less sun I would be on a blog a day. It doesn't fit the vibe right now, though. There's a lot going on! Carving out time from the kids just to type away on my mother's borrowed mac book takes away the whole purpose of the trip, so I'm consolidating the first two days and I'm back at it. *Note, Day 3 got a bit long so I'll cut it here. Hoping to catch up before I lose memories for day 4. I wake up on day three at four in the morning. Normal enough, I suppose, for someone who's fifteen hours jetlagged and going to bed at eight at night. I dick around on my phone for a bit before deciding to keep myself active, so I go for a walk before the sun comes up. It's nice and quiet, warm but comfortable, and within half an hour I catch the sunrise on a sleepy street in Narrabri. The planned route I found on apple maps showed a nice roundabout that seemed to take about an hour to walk, but it took me fifteen minutes to walk l...

 A seventeen hour flight is nothing to sneeze at. There's not much to reflect on, either. I've set out to Australia for six weeks, from March 15th until April 27th. My sister, the New Yorker, married an Aussie around a decade back, and with their gang of 3 boys agreed to house me for my star in Narrabri, New South Whales. It's my second time here, first time since Huxley, my eldest nephew, was born. I blogged about that time as well. There's a strange pressure on writing about my time out here. The impetus for planning the trip in the first place was my divorce. The flights were booked shortly after I moved out from my apartment, a pattern break is welcomed, the joy of being "Uncle Jesse" smoothes over all wounds. The value of this trip goes beyond healing a failed marriage, but the cause/effect relationship shouldn't be glossed over. This would not have happened without that catalyst. My ex and I had talked about coming out here for years. It's sad, b...