7. Raising a Family

Our first couple of years of marriage were spent in the Burwood flat until Chris raised his head. Time to find other accommodation. We did the usual hunt and ended up going to live at Haberfield on a tree lined street close to a canal that was surrounded by a long reserve and children’s playground.

We moved in but we had to tighten the belt and didn’t have any money for small luxuries. I was heavily pregnant with Christopher, just three weeks to go, when I was picking up a couple of necessities from a newspaper shop. I got and paid for the items but then on my way out the door I saw a magazine that I wanted to read and on impulse I reached out and took it. A hand grabbed me on the street.

The owner was very angry, his shop with suffering from a major increase of theft and he was sick of it, so he was fighting back, and anyone caught no matter how minor was being charged. I was in shock, I couldn’t believe what I had done, or the trouble I was now in. He called the police and I was so upset that I wet myself. The police came and took me to the station, I was allowed to ring Alan, then they interviewed me. Alan came straight away and stayed with me through the whole process. I was charged and my court appearance set to be 4pm that day. I was put in a cell and Alan was allowed in with me as he was going to be my “lawyer”. I was obviously pregnant - everyone could see that. Dear me, I was so embarrassed, mortified and I knew that I would never do anything like it again.

I was taken to the small local court next door and was still upset and crying. Alan spoke up for me stating that to his knowledge I had never done anything like that before however that I had recently done a couple of other unusual, crazy behaviours and he had put it down to my pregnancy. The Judge said that it was a minor offence and he would let it go without recording it. There was to be no punishment as I had already been adequately punished all day long. The Judge spoke to me directly, telling me something that I already knew - that I was very lucky to have the love and unconditional support of a good man and he hoped that I appreciated it. I did, and we were allowed to go home.

Never did Alan bring it up, not once, it was vanished from our lives. This time I really did learn the lesson. I loved Alan; he was indeed my ongoing best friend forever. Of all the events in my early life this episode to me was the worst and I still have an internal struggle about sharing it - I was old enough to know better and the loss of face was unbearable.

Christopher was born on Alan’s 26th birthday – the most wonderful birthday present, and we settled into our new home. We got a dog called Jack-Jack, a stocky white bull terrier who became our fierce protector. Living next door to us were three wonderful sisters – Nora, Jill, and Clare, the “Old Ladies” as they became known to us. Jill was the only one of the three who was married, and her gorgeous Irish husband, Patrick, was the heart of the neighbourhood.

Patrick would visit everyone two to three times a week to see if he could be of help. He loved Chris and they would often meet in the front garden then go for little walks up and down the street past two or three houses and back - maybe 100 feet or so. It was so sad for all of us when Patrick died. Jill took over, taking Chris into their home for very short visits before coming back ten to fifteen minutes later. Up to then I had never been into their place but with Patrick gone we helped with the gardening etc.

Over time we got to know them all and then mourn them as one by one they followed Patrick.

Our family grew with Barbara arriving two years after Christopher and then Leslie just short of a year later. They were so close in age but so different. Barbara was such a strong-willed child, energetic and always moving. Leslie was the happiest of children, as a baby cooing quietly in her crib, always with a huge smile, always loving and affectionate.

We needed a bigger place and wanted to buy, so looked for land to build on further from the city. We found a block out West in Greystanes, not far from where Alan worked and started to build. We moved into our new house a few months after Leslie was born, then John followed almost two years later.

For the next few years, we would visit the old ladies fairly regularly with the kids helping me to garden before running down to the playground. After Jill and Clare died Nora lived by herself for about eighteen months before she too was gone. Alan and I attended her funeral when all the kids were in school and I was really upset.

The Priest spent the entire service praising her relatives and rarely even mentioned Nora – I thought it was most unusual. Poor Nora, she deserved so much better – even if she was a loner. We did not go to the wake, instead we had our own celebration of her life, before going home. I did miss Nora for long afterwards.

I started working night duty at Little Sisters of the Poor in Drummoyne whilst Alan continued working at ComalCo. It was the only way we could get two wages and look after the kids. I worked a ten-hour shift from 8pm to 6am three nights a week and Alan did his share of childminding in the afternoons, evenings, and weekends.

After work I would do shopping at the Saturday Markets at Flemington then head home where a blond headed little boy would run to greet me in the driveway, every week. I thought it was because he had missed me… but apparently not - speaking to him the other week he emphatically denied such occurrences! So, I use this to point out that the memory of some events, mine as mother versus those of the children, may not always tally!

When Alan was working, I would pay Barbara Smith to look after the kids during the day on Friday’s while I was sleeping after work the night before. They spent many hours playing with Barbara and Doug’s younger kids, Andrew and Stephanie, and became firm friends. Chris would organize many of the kid’s games and adventures exploring around the neighbourhood including restricted areas like the quarry and the canal.

Pat was a constant guest, always had treats and was lots of fun so the kids adored her, maybe loved her more than me! On weekend Pat would occasionally babysit for Alan and I and the kids were always delighted when such occasions came about.

Unfortunately, Pat never married nor had kids of her own, instead sharing a flat in Kensington with another friend, Mary. There was a rumour that Pat was about to become engaged but that never happened, and we never discussed it. It was not my affair, and I assumed if she wanted me to know then she would have told me. She didn’t mention it, and I didn’t want to pry, so I let it slide.

Flora on the other hand met and married Brian Glockler, a deeply religious, gorgeous man and they appeared to be very happy. They were Christopher’s godparents and they would visit us at Greystanes at regular intervals. A number of years later Brian died suddenly of a heart attack. It was very unexpected. We continued to visit Flora regularly in Gosford with the kids playing with jigsaw puzzles while Flora and I would catch up.

Chris asked me why Pat and I were estranged… Pat wanted me to give up smoking, she and Mary have both been smokers and appeared to have no difficulty in the giving up. I would occasionally try without success and my real problem was that I enjoyed it. It is great with drinks and coffee see the problem I would have had to give them all up and giving up several cravings at one time was more than I could achieve. I was extremely upset to the news that both Pat and Flora had died without my presence. It was extremely painful and my fault. I had to bear it, but my sorrow was so intense.

We had a few memorable near disasters with the kids, starting when Christopher was just one and a half years old. Alan and I were walking with Christopher along the beach one beautiful autumn weekend day. We took his socks and shoes off allowing him to splash along the shoreline, feet in the water. It was an utterly glorious day with not a worry in the world to intrude on our bless. Alan had been holding onto Christopher’s hand most of the walk, but he let go of his hand and Chris just disappeared.

Alan was thigh deep in the cold, murky, brackish colour surf - hunting around for Chris, bent over and swirling his arms around when suddenly, he felt something, grabbed it, and pulled him up out of the water. Christopher started yelling and coughing up water as we raced back to the car. We got him out of the wet clothes rubbing him very roughly to get him warm and dry before donning dry clothes.

Thank goodness, he was okay. Poor Alan drove home in wet clothes. What a fright! My godfathers we could’ve lost him. How lucky can you get?

Another unplanned for drama was when Leslie was two and Barbara was three. They were playing in the downstairs playroom with, I thought, the playroom gate secured properly whilst I was busy in the kitchen. There was a knock at the door, so I answered and was talking to a neighbour with all quiet behind me. I obviously spoke to the neighbour longer than I should have because when I said goodbye, closed the door and was walking back to the kitchen I glanced down the hallway and noticed that the playroom gate was down.

I heard giggling from the laundry, and I walked in to find Leslie on the washing machine with Barbara standing on the floor facing her with her mouth wide open. Leslie had the soap powder box in one hand, with a scoop of powder in the other and was about to pour it into Barbara’s mouth. Murder most foul, by two-year-old. A short time before, I had got Alan to put a high shelf up and placed all the toxic substances well out of reach of the children. The smart brats had worked out that if they stood on the foot stool they could climb to the dryer and there to the taller washing machine then they could reach the shelf. Both got a whack on the bottom. They never tried that again, but it was not the last adventure!

One day I was doing some chores downstairs while the girls were fast asleep in bed, at least they could get up to no trouble there… then I heard our rear neighbour yelling out to me. She was at our adjoining fence trying urgently to attract my attention, pointing up to the roof. I went outside to see what she is yelling about. I look up and Barbara, still only three years old, is dangling her feet outside the window. I raced inside, up the stairs, grabbed hold of her and dragged her to the floor. God she was a naughty three-year-old, curious, determined, and stubborn!

Our swimming pool was safely fenced and going inside the fence was definitely a no-no, unless allowed in by a supervising adult. I was in the kitchen with the kids outside playing when I looked out the kitchen window there is Barbara climbing the pool fence. I yell out “No Barbara get down” which she immediately did but then five minutes later she’s doing it again. The same performance, same three more times.

The next time I whacked her bottom then go back inside. She’s doing it again! I go out and whacked her twice and told her if she did it again then I was going to give her six whacks. I went back inside and looked out again, she had her hands on the bars, toes curled around one, staring at me with defiance and ready to climb the fence again. Inside I’m saying “Please God don’t let her do it. Please, please!” I did not mind the hatred but hated having to give the whacks! Her foot uncurled, her hands let go, she turned and stood with her back to the fence and utter hatred pouring out of her little body. I have saved her life although of course she did not thank me.

I still have that picture in my mind after all this time. She never tried that one again but a couple of years later she fell out of the boot of the car whilst I was driving down the main road to Merrylands shops.

She had been playing a game with the other kids, when she got out of her seat and climbed over it to hide from me in the boot. She must have bumped the unlatched back door and fell out. I did not believe the other kids when they told me she was gone, I thought it was part of their usual game but when I looked in the rear vision mirror, I saw her sitting on the road behind us. Crying, but somehow uninjured.

John had few such dramas but was often getting in trouble with his father. As the years have gone by, I wondered who was the stirrer of the pot? Was it you Christopher or Barbara? Leslie - I don’t think so but the older two would certainly encourage him, and he in his eagerness to please would go along. Yes, I can see that scenario playing out. His friends at school were not much better, mostly of the wrong ilk and often in trouble.

As for the children’s less serious childhood injuries, there was often displeasure at my reactions – when Leslie winded herself falling off her horse, Shandy, when John has to go to hospital because he stuck a cherry pip up his nose! My initial reaction was often of a giggling fit of laughter… not appropriate I agree, but it was my first reaction to many more incidences.

What a dreadful and uncaring mother! Was it due to nervousness? I don’t know, but it occurred frequently enough. Then my nursing training would take over and out would come appropriate care and advice. When Alan would hear about my reactions (Leslie and Barbara were terrible dobbers) he always disapproved. He couldn’t understand how a trained nurse could react so. But then neither could I! What a light weight.

So, my children had a strong claim and influence on my life, from their tender years onwards - adding to my existence, my development, my worry, my joy, and my pain but mostly my undying love for each and every one of you.

When the kids were young, we would go on holiday exploring Australia from Sydney to Adelaide, driving across the Nullabor Plains to Perth and cycling around Rottnest Island. We visited our friends the McGee’s in Dubbo and suffered through a mouse plague whilst staying in an old railway car in the nearby Warrumbungles. Heading north we explored the Gold Coast feeding the Rainbow Lorikeets at Currumbin Wildlife Sanctuary and enjoyed the Crimson Rosellas, King Parrots and Regent Bower Birds at O’Reilly’s Rainforest Retreat.

In between holidays Alan would take the kids on weekend outings, frequently encouraging me to come along on Sundays when I got home from working Saturday nightshift. On those days he would take me a chair and blanket so I could sleep at the venues while he would supervise your activities.

We still enjoyed hosting events at home and had some big firework parties and many summer pool parties with local friends. Regular visitors were Barbara and Doug Smith and our Hyland Rd neighbours Margaret and Greg Horan with their kids Toni and Tim, as well as Brad and Di who lived on the corner.

Ian and Alan worked together at ComalCo for several years and remained great friends even after Ian bought a boat and changed careers running tours on the Hawkesbury River. Ian, Carol would often come over with their kids for a card night. 500 was the game of choice and there was always much laughter – of course the men were terrible cheats!

Alan was always there for the kids, encouraging them to better themselves, even if they felt that they didn’t need to. Telling them off as required, yes, but never outbursts of anger or violent to my knowledge. Due to his childhood he hated violence. The kids got whacked on the bottom on occasions, but I have no problem with that! I did as well as a child, in fact I am sure that I got them more often! The nuns were not violent and what I got, I deserved and survived.

I remember a time that I stayed at home whilst Alan took the kids out, but instead of going to bed, I watched New Zealand v Australia in cricket on TV. I had a couple of drinks and with the lack of sleep was very displeased to see Australia win again. Alan brought everyone home just as the game finished, driving into the driveway to be greeted by an enraged woman yelling from the balcony that no Australian’s were welcome in her house! Alan was highly amused and told me to go to bed.

That reminds me of another not so funny occasion, I was furious, although I do not remember the cause, and I lashed out at Alan trying to punch him. He grabbed my wrists and just held them until I was calm and hugged me, standing there outside of our bedroom door.

He was always calm in the face of anger, regardless of the provocation.