Zira, I know rain is no big deal to you, but darling, in these parts a downpour is an event.

I told the kids walking to school in the pouring rain would be an adventure. Lana responded, “It’s not an adventure. It’s a walk to school in the rain!”

Nice to see some things never change:)

Winter arrived this week. On top of 5 days (so far) of on and off rain, the temperature has plummeted to 14°, Celsius of course,  (that’s 57°F.) I say plummeted because of the havoc it has wreaked on my poor son. Every morning as he changes out of his pajamas he is either going on about how, “IT’S FREEZING!” or “I’M SO COLD MOMMY!”  I don’t say anything like, “When I was a kid, it was so could you could freeze, literally.” or “Kid, when I was your age I walked to school in the snow!” No these things would make no sense to him. He doesn’t even have any memories of snow. The last winter we were home he was 2!

So until we get home for American summer, my son is having to brave the elements. In Sydney of course that means living in a drafty home.

Maybe it’s his buzz cut, but that boy could not survive without his hoody on. Even at school pick-up, I walk in to find him sitting inside with his mates building things with his hoody on! It’s just not right!

Another sign of winter is Lana wearing her Winter Uniform. I absolutely love it! I tried to get a nice shot, but all I managed was a picture where she is ‘pretending’ to walk. And she would not stop ‘pretending.’ This picture reminds me of Maria’s ‘action’ shots.

I have been terribly remiss in telling you all about the activities that Lana (she’s all the way to the left) & Nuno get to participate in. It is probably because of all these sporting activities that I don’t have the time to write about them.

Even though sports keep us pretty busy, the kids involvement in them has been fantastic. At least from my perspective. However, until yesterday, Lana would have vehemently disagreed.

First, she had been “strongly encouraged” by her father to participate in Little A’s (kid’s track and field), then there was Nippers (kid’s surf lifesaving). Both started very painfully. At the start of both there were tears and complaining. Sport was not something she enjoyed AND there was the fact that she didn’t know anyone (save one girl in Little A’s) who was participating. Two strikes!

So at the start of term 2, when her father said she had to play a sport, I said I would not be taking place in forcing that happen. After going back in forth we all agreed she had to pick an ACTIVity. She tried to convince us that shopping was a sport. Sounded good to me, but her father did not buy it. After two weeks out of commission with pneumonia (another story) she did some “shopping” around and finally chose tennis.

As soon as we arrived at the tennis courts, she told me that she did not want to play. “Here we go again,” I thought. I didn’t want a battle, but I did insist she try. The truth is that even though Nippers and Little A’s were forced on her, and started out pretty rough, she did end the seasons by loving them both. So off onto the courts she went. None of the girls were from her school. Yet, two of them immediately ran over, unprompted, and asked her to join them in the line. I couldn’t have asked for a better scenario.

I’m not saying that she’s the next Venus Williams, but she was pretty good. You know, for a 7 year old who reads alot and doesn’t run willingly or kick a ball around much.

When the lesson was over she ran off the court begging me to let her come back. She proclaimed that she, “Loved it!” Honestly, I couldn’t have been more thrilled.

On our way home we drove by the train station and picked her dad up. She had him convinced that she hated the lesson, the teacher stunk and the girls in her class were mean. He bought it, hook, line and sinker. It was the story he was prepared for. Not until she giggled and waved her new racket (the one she fell asleep with) did he realize that she was fooling him. I still don’t think either of us believe it.

Last summer, while I was back home, my brother asked me where I came up with the nicknames for Nuno & Lana. For some reason I didn’t get around to answering him. Then a few months ago (maybe longer) my friend Sara asked me the same question in an email. My plan was to address it here. Well, I wasn’t quick enough because Jesse just asked me the same question last week. I promised him that I would give him an answer this week, so here you are.

I will start with Lana. When she was born, I spoke to her primarily in Portuguese. It wasn’t until she started to talk, in what seemed like paragraphs, that I capitulated and just spoke English with her. Really, she went from single word utterances to not shutting the h@$% up!

What happened though in those 2.5 years, was there was an infiltration of Portuguese words into her vocabulary. To this day, her favorite stuffed animals are Aõ-Aõ (that is the sound a Portuguese dog makes when it barks) and Macaco (Portuguese for Monkey). Both of these animals she named herself.

Besides being exposed to Portuguese, we also further complicated matters by giving her a gazillion nicknames. We didn’t realize how out of control we were until Nuno came along and wouldn’t remember his sister’s name. He actually was calling her Djuga-djuga for a while before we realized that that was his name for her. It just hit us all at once that we must be confusing the hell out of him. Quickly we limited the nicknames we used for her.

Monkey, is probably the name that we used most. That is who she is, our monkey. Yet, when we arrived here the name I chose to use, I think subconsciously, was Lana. Australia is lovely, but it is sterile when it comes to languages. You hear a variety of ‘Englishes’ on the street, but that’s about it. Lana is my way to infuse a little bit of Portuguese into our lives. Lana /pronounced ~ lÅ­nÅ­/ came about because it rhymes with mana (Portuguese for sister), which was another nickname we had for her.

I am admitting here that although it is a hokey country bumpkin thing to do, we called my daughter ‘sister’. And this stuck. Actually, my husband and I still call each other, “mom” & “dad”. This habit is something I inherited from Carlos. I place the blame squarely on him. But we are weak, and we can not stop this thing we do, no matter how hard we try.

Nuno, on the other hand has a name that just did not lend itself to nicknames. One day, I took his name and made it Polish by adding -newsky to it. This is something that Maria used to do to bastardize names. I can’t explain it, but it just came out of my mouth one day. Quickly I went from ___newsky to Nuno. My husband just about jumped out of his skin and insisted I NEVER call his son Nuno. Hum, that was it. My kid was nicknamed. Eventually, my husband embraced it.

It worked really well when we were in Portugal since his real name is very difficult to pronounce in Portuguese. When we left, friends of ours gave him a lovely silver chain with a letter ‘N’ charm. I realized then, that this nickname was for keeps.

Like his sister’s name, it allows me, and them, to hear Portuguese a few times a day. It reminds us of where I am from, and to a certain extent where they are from.

Note, pictures were taken in Fall of 2008 in Portugal.

Cultural clarification: After reading the post, my husband commented that his parents call each other ‘mum’ & ‘dad’. Although, technically they live in the country, they are a very elegant couple, nothing ‘bumpkin’ about either of them. In New Zealand however, people refer to one’s parents with those titles. Even when speaking to a non family member a kiwi will say, “We’re going to mum’s house.”, not “We’re going to my mum’s house. This took some getting used to. But now I roll with it. So no, I am not calling my very sophisticated in-laws country bumpkins.

Last week Nuno had his first soccer game, or should I say his team had their first soccer game. I’m not sure what happened, but when we first arrived he got upset about something. A trivial thing that he normally would shake off, but in this instance he proceeded to cry/pout for the entire game, never making it unto the field. Obviously his father, the coach, was not too pleased.

We all got over it and looked forward to our next practice. Well, just about the same thing happened there too.

We approached today’s game with our fingers crossed. That, plus the positive energy that Gran & Granpa sent us from New Zealand, must have helped because he played!

We have two kids on our team who are a bit older, and bigger, and last week they were really the only two who made any contact with the ball. I was really proud that Nuno got in there and kicked the ball around like a champ.

Our team didn’t win. But my son? Well, he made his mother & father very proud.

Last year we took every opportunity to head to New Zealand. Every school holiday, other than the one where the kids & I went to the States, we went to NZ to visit family & friends. Between that, and our sports commitments on the weekends, we never seemed to get out of Sydney. Yes, we had a really busy and fun year, but it was embarrassing that after an entire year here we had only seen the Blue Mountains once and Shoal Bay once. That was it!

School here runs in 4 terms with two weeks of holiday in between each term. It’s a great system for allowing families to get away on holidays.

With our first school break upon us, I decided to take the kids on a road trip. I had heard great things about Byron Bay and had considered flying up there for a week. Yet, I thought it would be a good idea to see how the kids & I would handle hour upon hour in the car together since we are planning a big road trip around Australia next year.

Byron Bay is 10 hours away. (Daddy, I know you don’t think this is a big deal as I remember many a time waking at the crack of dawn and heading up to Canada to visit my brothers. You driving all the way. But I am not even half the person you are, so I decided to break up the trip and stop in Port Macquarie.) For one, it was half way there and also because I thought the kids would enjoy two of its main attractions: the Koala Zoo & the Sea Acres Rainforest.

The week before our trip, my friend Anna asked if she and her boys could tag along. One thing led to another and we were heading up to PM with three mums and six kids all staying together at a timeshare that Anna organized. Each ‘family’ has an older sibling (they were all in year 1 together and are all in the same class again this year:) and a younger sibling who will all be going to Kindergarten together next year. You couldn’t ask for a better set up.

Most of the fun we had involved playing at the house or on the beach. It wasn’t the sunniest weather, but a Portuguese-American, Irish-Canadian & Kiwi don’t REALLY ever expect sunshine all the time. It’s just not natural!

I was pretty useless with taking photos, but did manage a few. I particularly like this one for a few reasons. Nuno being cheeky (he’s trying to insert rabbit ears behind his sister’s head), but more than that, I love that Lana has made friends she feels so comfortable with.

Just look at her hanging off of her buddy. She has come a very long way in great part to the people we have met. (Yes, she would still get on a plane tomorrow to be with her family. She just told us that the other day.) But this is where we are right now. And I am thrilled that she is at home with her mates. Leaving ‘home’ was really tough on this little girl and seeing her happy and comfortable gives me great comfort that we didn’t do the wrong thing to come on this adventure.

The hike through the Sea Acres Rainforest was informative for the adults, but the kids were off playing soon after the tour started. No animals were spotted, but fair enough with 6 kids we weren’t exactly quiet.

We also visited the Koala Hospital. The only downside to our visit was that they only do tours once a day, so the guided tour was not that intimate which made it more difficult for the kids to hear and pay attention. Honestly, I was amazed at the crowd it drew in this very sleepy town. The Koala’s were all being rehabilitated in the hope that they could be released back into their natural habitat. My photos did not turn out so great, but I do have to tell you about one little guy who lost a leg. He has adapted so well that they are planning his release. I was very impressed with that little guy & also very impressed with the group of volunteers who keep this place going.

All in all, I have to say I didn’t fall in love with Pt. Macquarie but because of this crew I had one heck of a fantabulous time!

Some of you may know that my daughter participates in a scripture class at her public school. Most kids here in Australia do. Last year, it was the one thing that she would tell me about school. Every Wednesday there would be another story or comment. She even came home one day and asked if she could have a Bible. One thing I have a difficult refusing that girl is a book. So when we were in New Zealand we went with Auntie Robin, who is both Papi’s godmother and a devoted Christian and the two of them picked the perfect children’s Bible. Lana has read most of it, and even when she’s reading another book, her Bible has a special place of prominence on or near her bed.  I think is sweet.

Lana’s father was not as supportive of her new found interest. He, surprise, surprise, wants her to question authority and use science to determine her beliefs. I am okay with both of these, so long as she also uses SOME manners when questioning authority, unlike her dad.

Ever since Lana’s interest in Christianity was peeked, my darling husband has been going on about how “we” have to find her a kid’s book about the theory of evolution. Well, it just so happened that last week I picked up a cool looking science  book at the library for her.

Two nights ago. Papi comes into our bedroom very pleased with himself because there was a section in the book about evolution. He took the opportunity to sit and explain it to her. After their chat he asked her which she believed in. I can only imagine the biased questioning…

After a moment, she responded, “Both.” Then she explained her theory.

According to Lana, God created girls, and boys evolved from monkeys because girls are smarter and boys smell.

Sounds good to me!

After a very lazy Easter Sunday, we decided that we just had to get out of the house on Easter Monday. Unlike the States where everyone returns to work the day after Easter, Australians have the day off. After a morning run, I came back home did some laundry and we all got packed up to head over to Bondi Beach. For $2.50 each we could ride any public transportation ALL DAY. And did we ever! It was of a morning of “just in time’s”. First it was the bus into the city, then the train to City Hall, then the transfer train to Bondi Junction. Then after a short wait we caught a ride on the bus out to the Bondi Beach and we started our walk.

I had done the walk a few times before with friends, but never with the kids, so we weren’t sure how it would go. They started off without a complaint and we all were just enjoying the view and the conversation.

As we rounded the corner to Tamarama Beach we noticed people gathered on the cliff watching what we thought was a surfing or surf life-saving competition. As we walked closer to the beach we saw that it was an ocean swim. To be precise, the TamaCloey (Tamarama to Clovelly) 2.5K Cliff Side Odyssey. Even on a nice day, this swim would be a huge challenge.  But the swells were pretty big and the sky was gray. Not that I would ever sign up for such a thing, but the conditions would have been enough to turn me off.

Even wading into the water was a challenge.

We kept on walking and stopped at Bronte Beach for a terrific cafe lunch. While at lunch we were reading the flyer and papi commented on the fact that the race passed an area called Shark Point. Australian names are not very creative, so I’m thinking there is a reason for the name of said spot.

After our yummy lunch at Jenny’s, we were off again. Nuno got a little ride on his daddy’s shoulders as we walked up the hill to get to Clovelly. This is actually the suburb that we had originally planned to move to when we came to Australia. As we stood there taking in the view I tried to see the swimmers, but they were just specs to me. What I did see, was a race course that I was not at all ever interested in racing!

As we approached Clovelly we noticed some helicopters, then swimmers racing by on foot in their Speedos and they weren’t wet so we knew this wasn’t a bi-athalon. Immediately we suspected a problem. A shark problem. It was confirmed that there had been a shark sighting, so the remaining heats of racers that had not gone in the water would not be allowed to race. The helicopters kept hovering overhead as the racers already in the water swam the distance. It was nerve racking enough for me & I didn’t even know anyone in the race.

As we stood there watching the swimmers come into Clovelly, we noticed how difficult it was for them to get into Clovelly Beach. Wave after wave crashed and none of the swimmers were able to get unto the beach. The current was pushing them back out. It took some serious persistence, but they did all eventually make it through.

Yes, the helicopters were overhead. But was there a panic? No. News crews? No. If anything, the swimmers who did not swim just seemed bummed that they weren’t allowed to get into the race. Americans hear ‘shark sighting’ and think reason for a pool. Australian hear ‘shark sighting’ and think are you sure? What kind? You know they rarely kill anyone? Anyone keen for a surf?

All in all it was a ripper day. The kids were AMAZING and no one was killed by a shark. What more could you ask for?