Reinstatement

One of the gifts I received for Christmas was 'The quake year' by Fiona Farrell.  I have started reading it, but often  put it aside as reading the stories stirs up memories and emotions.  I have another book about 22 February 2011, which I received at the beginning of the year, but I have yet to open it.  That book is mainly photographs of that day and the immediate time after.  I am still not ready for that book.

In the week before Christmas my insurance company kindly informed me my house is scheduled for "reinstatement" in April-June 2014.  "Reinstatement" being the term for either a rebuild or repair. This seems a lifetime away, but at least I now have a date to focus on.  At this stage I still do not know if the insurance company will repair or rebuild my house.  This "reinstatement" will take between 38 and 42 weeks depending on which path the insurance company takes.  Until then I will live in this house I have come to dislike to put it mildly.  At the time of the first quake in September 2010 we were redecorating and are now unable to complete this.  If we do our house will not be repaired or rebuilt.  As a result my house is a collage of partially redecorated rooms and earthquake damage. 

 If the house is repaired we will possibly sell up and move out of Christchurch.  A family member I spoke to on Christmas day was surprised by this as he sees the potential for added value to our property once the red zone houses on our doorstep are demolished, and the land along the Avon River possibly becomes a river park. Who knows what the time frame for this is and the wait may be a little too long for us. Many of those on the east side of Christchurch feel forgotten as plans for the "new" Christchurch appear to be concentrated on the CBD.  Personally, I realise that little can be done until most of the demolition of the residential areas have been completed, but it is hard to drive by overgrown sections, very sad looking houses and ugly riverbanks.

I don't like talking to people about my house as I sound negative, but I don't mean to be. I am only telling my story as it is.  It didn't help when I told said family member  I had suggested to my daughters they move overseas and maybe think of returning to Christchurch in 10-15 years.  They are young and the opportunities here are limited.  This is not only about job opportunities, but also the availability of social activities.  My daughters should be enjoying these years, not waiting for the rebuilt Christchurch to rise from the ashes, or to be more accurate from the dust and rubble.

On a positive note we moved my mother from her red zoned home at the end of October to a house in Parklands.  Her new house is more modern with a beautiful garden.  Mum's red zoned house has yet to be demolished.  It looks abandoned and without the very soul that made it a home.  Mum has yet to feel settled in her new house and has become very security conscious. In an attempt to start creating new memories for her we gathered at her house for an evening meal on Christmas day.  It was a lovely evening as we were able to sit outside on her patio to eat and enjoy each others company.

For some in Christchurch life has pretty much returned to normal, but others are living with their "new normal".  It doesn't stop us from having dreams and goals, but it does put some aspects of our lives on hold.  My mother is glad all the business dealing with insurance companies, CERA and lawyers is over for her, but finds it hard that her 3 daughters are not able to move on with their lives until their houses are repaired or rebuilt.  Although it took an earthquake to do it I am glad my mother is in a new house that requires little maintenance, is insulated, has a good floor plan and easy care grounds.  She would never have admitted it, because she never wanted to leave it, but her red zoned house was getting beyond her ability to care for it.  Given time this new house will eventually become her home.

One minute I was standing....

That's right - One minute I was standing and the next I was sitting on the ground.  Life for me is relatively simple in the mornings.  I get up, shower, have breakfast and bus to work with my daughter.  Once we get to the CBD we grab a coffee, have a quick catch-up and then go our separate ways.  Last Thursday I decided to change this routine.  As I was walking to work my right foot slipped out from under me and suddenly I was sitting on the ground.  Now most people would choose not to do this in a public place, but not me.  No, I decided to provide some early morning entertainment for all the people waiting at the bus exchange.

Not surprisingly I am certain I got up much quicker than I fell.  One concerned lady did ask me if I was alright and I assured her I was.  To be honest I wasn't exactly sure.  Amazingly I had managed to keep hold of my coffee even though this was the hand that I used to try to stop myself falling and slammed into the paving instead.  Trying to look casual I slowly walked the few metres to my work place whilst sipping my coffee.  My left knee wasn't feeling too good and my bottom a little sore, but I was determined not to check for injuries until I had got through the door.  There I found a nice hole in my favourite leggings and some skin missing from my left knee.  The hand was a little red, but no grazes to be seen.  Trying to look as if I didn't have a care in the world I made my way to my desk, but obviously the adrenaline was wearing off a little by then.  I would have cried, but somehow it seemed a little childish, so instead a call was made to my husband who came rushing to my side on his white steed (actually a work vehicle he borrowed from a colleague, but it is white).

All this time I had not uttered a word of my fall to the colleagues who were already at their desks.  Why you ask?  It seems I am a very private person and had yet to recover from my embarrassment of falling in the first place. However, an explanation was required as I informed them of my departure.  They must think I am strange, but it would be highly unlike me to become hysterical because I had hurt myself.  There was a quick trip to my husband's place of work for some first aid as I had to admit to him I had no idea where the first aid kit was at my place of work.  Then it was home to recover.  By this time the adrenalin had worn off and a decided limp had appeared.  As I said to my husband it was "interesting" to discover where I was hurting as I came to the realisation that the jarring of the fall made me sore in less obvious places.

My other daughter, at home, just rolled her eyes when I told her why I was home.  Apparently my old age is now showing in a lack of balance.  As my husband kindly pointed out I have managed to walk up and down our driveway which has large cracks thanks to the earthquake in 2011, and down our street with its non-existent footpath without doing any damage to myself (my shoes have been the only victims).  Now it seems I can't navigate a flat piece of paving.  Wider family members found the situation hilarious and there were offers of zimmer frames and such like.  One even went as far to suggest I check YouTube to see if anyone had been lucky enough to capture my moment of descent.

Normally I try to avoid falling over and have managed this quite successfully.  I do not count my experience of  Mother Nature trying to tumble dry me in the shower in 22 February 2011.  In fact the last time I can remember falling was prior to 2000 when I thought I could fly from the top step at our back door to the concrete path below.  Now that was spectacular and I managed to do it without an audience.  I would have paid money to watch that.

Of course I can now laugh about it and the aches are not as bad.  As for my embarrassment that quickly disappeared.  I fell, but there are much worse things that can happen in life.  When you learn to laugh at yourself you find nothing is as bad as it first seems.

And if you are lucky you will discover a caring husband who goes to the mall that same day and buys you a replacement pair of leggings.  The exact same ones, but a size smaller.  The best part is they fit and he has unintentionally paid me a compliment.

A Piece of My Childhood

My mother is red zoned as a result of the earthquake in 2011.  This means she must move from her house to a new property by the end of April 2012.  In preparing for this move in the future she has started clearing out her house and the other day gave me a bag that immediately took me back to my childhood.  Inside was a collection of Rugby League Weekly magazines my father had collected over the years we went to watch my uncle play league.

Most people would have discarded them once the games had been played, but my father kept his and now they are mine.  Memories flooded in - the smell of wintergreen in the liniment, the sound of cleats on concrete, hot pies, warm steam escaping from the changing rooms, huddling under a rug to keep warm, exploring the showgrounds and nearby train tracks, the stamping of feet when a try was scored and the occasional player being stretchered off.

Reading through some of the weeklies takes me back to another era - McWilliam's Wines sponsored the Player of the Week, Wayne Beri (famous for the Aulsebrooks robbery) was playing for Marist-Western, Pat and Peter Smith owned the Embassy Hotel (Manchester Street) and Tattersalls Hotel (Cashel Street), Newmans Coachlines was in business, sauna and massage was provided at Frank Endacott's Health Studio in High Street and Rothmans cigarettes warrented one page advertising.

Although I was only a child and probably spent more time adventuring than watching the games those Saturday memories will always be special.  Sitting beside my father who was only too ready to explain how the game was played it was easy to get caught up in the excitement.  Standing on the seat, so I could see over the heads of the adults who had risen to their feet as the game reached a crucial moment.  Yelling encouragement to my uncle's team as they tried to move the ball towards the try  line.

Then there was also the visit to the Linwood Rugby League clubrooms after the game.  The adults drinking beer and buying us children potato chips to keep us happy.  I remember playing the piano with no talent at all and the kindness of the adults who cheered us on although it must have been awful to listen to.  I remember the slippery, slimy feel of a raw oyster sliding down my throat.  I hated them, but if my father won any in a raffle I would bravely devour one to show him what a fantastic daughter I was.

Thanks Mum for letting me have the weeklies.  I know they are precious to you and like me you have good memories of those days. 

A Bus Novice

According to my colleagues I am a "bus novice".  Apparently this is because I chose to converse with a fellow passenger on my way home last week.  Since moving to the CBD for work I now regularly use the bus service for transport.  It has been many years since I last had to do this, so maybe I am a little naive when it comes to this form of transport.

While waiting for the bus I was approached by a man asking me which bus he should catch to get to his destination.  I suggested he wait at the same stop as there was a bus coming soon.  He then proceeded to mention he had recently returned home to Christchurch and was finding it difficult to make his way around the city.  Considering I live here and sometimes have the same problem, since the earthquake last year, it must be daunting for those who have been out of the city for a while.  My colleagues tell me my first mistake was to engage in any sort of conversation with him.

The bus arrived and he stood back to let me on.  I seated myself and before I knew it he was sitting next to me.  He did ask me if I was comfortable with this and to be honest I had no problem with it.  We continued our conversation.  I found out he was turning 50 this month, had been clean for a year (no longer drinking, drugging or smoking) after going to Wellington for treatment and had been living on the West Coast for some time.  My colleagues think this put him in the "do not talk to" basket.  I think they are naive and maybe my past interactions with people who have lead similar lives makes me more compassionate and approachable.  My colleagues would suggest I am an easy target.  But should I have ignored him because he didn't fit the respectable middle-class criteria my colleagues appear to value?  I think not.  If he had made me feel uncomfortable or scared I would have told him so and ended the conversation before it began.  Instead I had an intelligent conversation with a fellow passenger which made the journey pass very quickly.  He brightened my day and I hope I did the same for him.

Travelling by bus can never be boring as I am fascinated by my fellow travellers.  There was the young girl, with a baby, who had an extremely loud conversation with her social worker on her cell phone.  She then proceeded to tell her friend (and the whole bus) the reason she had a social worker and all about the circumstances behind her baby's birth. There was the elderly lady who carefully got off the bus with her walking frame and as we drove off I could see a single loaf of bread and a cask of wine in her basket.  Then there was the young woman trying to get on the bus with her pram and I was delighted to see other passengers getting up to hold her baby and lift her pram.  They are just a few of the people I have come across so far and I am sure there will be more that will catch my attention

My Daughters

My husband and I married having made the decision never to have children as part of our future together.  As time went on we reviewed this decision and soon we were planning for our first child.  I loved being pregnant, it was just the birthing part I wasn't so good at.  We planned for a home birth as this was the birthing scenario we felt most comfortable with.  However, our first daughter was a little reluctant to come to the party and after a three and a half day labour finally made her appearance in hospital.  They talk about the miracle of birth and it is so true.  Words can never fully describe the feelings when your child is placed on your chest and you realise you had a huge part in creating this vision of loveliness.  Although I was exhausted I will never forget these huge blue eyes calmly looking at me as if to say what was all the fuss about.

It seemed we were destined to have only one child as it was rather difficult for me to forget the labour and I certainly wasn't keen to repeat the experience.  However, as time went by the memories diminished and about 3 years later we were planning for our second child.  This time the option of home birth was out the window and I booked into a hospital.  Of course this time the labour was relatively easy and after 24 hours my second daughter entered this world.  Suddenly my worries about how could I love this child as much as the first were gone.  As I held her in my arms I realised loving this child was easy.  Our capacity to love is infinite.  Over time I came to understand that it wasn't about loving one child more than the other, it was about loving them for who they were as individuals.

Pregnancy and labour are the easier parts of becoming a parent.  It is adapting to a parenting role and making the necessary changes in your life that are harder, but what a rewarding journey it is.  I look at my daughters in wonder sometimes and cannot believe how lucky I am to have such loving, kind, clever and caring young women in my life. Parenting did not come easy to me and I was learning just as much as my daughters as they went through every stage of their lives.  I certainly wasn't the perfect mother and made mistakes along the way.  If only we were supplied with handbooks tailored for each child when they were born.  But it seems I was a better mother than I thought and while there were moments when I wished I had kept to my initial decision never to have children there was never a time when I stopped loving them.  And love them I do - fiercely.   

Possibly one of the best things my parents did was stress to me that to enter into the decision to have children was not one of whimsy.  They taught me your children come first and as a parent you are responsible for their well being and care 24/7.  Although I always say that being a mother is only part of who I am and is the not the whole of who I am, it is a role that I have taken seriously.  I fail to understand how some parents abdicate from the responsibility of parenting their children.  I could never neglect mine as it would be like neglecting myself.  After all they are part of me.  By becoming parents we must accept the responsibility that comes with the birth of each child.  And while there are times when it is hard surely the good times, and sharing the journey with your child, make it all worth while.

A daughter may outgrow your lap, but she will never outgrow your heart.
-- Author Unknown

Fathers

Normally I am a private person and only share details of my personal life with very very few people and they would be people I would trust with my life.  But maybe it is time for me to share a little bit about myself and my world.

Today I have been thinking about my father.  I was 18 when he suddenly died.  Until then he had been healthy, so his death was unexpected.  People always say time heals.  I think it is more that you come to accept that for the rest of your life this person will no longer be there.  After all these years I still miss my dad.  

When I married my mother walked me down the aisle in a setting that was chosen because it reminded me of my father.  When I qualified in my chosen field of work how I would have given anything to hear my father tell me he was proud of me.  The day I gave birth to my first daughter I wanted to see his huge smile and hear him tell me I had done well.  Over the years there have been so many times and occasions when I wanted my father to be present, or to hear his advice.

You see my father was a pretty cool dad.  He loved his children and we knew we were loved.  We were a priority in his life and our wellbeing came first.  He wasn't perfect, but he was a man of great mana and was respected by many.  I have many good memories and have shared these with my daughters as it is important to me that they know the grandfather they never got to meet.  They now have an understanding of the man their grandfather was and I like it when they comment on how he might have reacted in certain situations.  They are usually right.

For me it was important my husband participate actively in his role as a father.  I had known the emptiness of not having a father in my life and I did not want the same for my girls.  When they were young my husband was a fantastic father.  He changed nappies (even during the night), walked crying babies to soothe them, rushed sick babies to medical assistance in the middle of the night and did many other tasks some fathers are unwilling to undertake.  However, as time went on and the children became older he began to divorce himself from this parenting role.  His interest in their lives waned and from one day to the next he never knew anything about their lives.  Suddenly it seemed he was only interested in disciplining them and being in charge.  I warned him he would lose them if he didn't make changes.  Sadly this has happened with our eldest daughter.  She cares for her dad, but tells me if my husband and I ever separated she knows her father would make no effort to continue a relationship with her.  This makes me sad and angry.  I loved my father dearly and he was a wonderful dad, but he is dead.  My daughters have a living father who stepped back from his role as a parent to two beautiful girls who idolized him in their younger years.  He had been their hero as all dads should be.  Now they have no hero.

What Is A Dad?

A dad is someone who
wants to catch you before you fall
but instead picks you up,
brushes you off,
and lets you try again.

A dad is someone who
wants to keep you from making mistakes
but instead lets you find your own way,
even though his heart breaks in silence
when you get hurt.

A dad is someone who
holds you when you cry,
scolds you when you break the rules,
shines with pride when you succeed,
and has faith in you even when you fail...

A Catch-up

I am not very good at this blogging business. Could be that my life is so boring I have nothing to write about? There is a lot going on, but not much of it is exciting.

My house has gone from orange to green much to our disappointment.  It is strange how we wanted to be green when all this zoning came in, but when the decision was released my family came to the realisation that subconsciously we had all wanted to go red.  Why? Simply because now we face a long wait which could be 2 years or more to have the house repaired or rebuilt.  Going red would have given us the a much quicker resolution.  Now we wait while the testing of the new foundations we must have is carried out and then there is the drilling that must take place on the property to help decide the required strength of the new foundations. And, of course we will have the delight of dealing with our insurance company.  When our house was first assessed after February 2011 we were told by EQC to be prepared for demolition, but the insurance representative was talking about jacking the house up to carry out repairs on the foundations and piles.

In the meantime we have had more emergency repairs to make the house weather tight to enable us to get through the winter without rain coming through the roof as it was starting to do.  The continuing aftershocks have only increased the initial damage to the house.  A builder told me nobody should be sleeping in one of the bedrooms, but the house is full and we have to use it.  The daughter concerned had to come home last December, but desperately wants to move out again.  However, rents in the city have increased by a large percentage and properties are hard to come by.  Landlords appear to see the effects of last year's earthquake as a profit making exercise.

Last week I received a phone call to tell me the building I work in was being closed at the end of the day and we were moving to a new site.  Going in to pack my desk I found the latest Detailed Engineering Evaluation requires further investigation of the building's floor hence our departure.  Now I am working in a former electrical warehouse located in what is left of the CBD.  There are no windows and from my desk I look straight at the roller door.  At least it is blue which happens to be my favourite colour. During lunch I can sit outside and watch several tall buildings being demolished and admired the cranes being used for this.  We may be there for 6-8 weeks or 6-8 months.

There is no certainty still and things can change from one day to the next.  It is hard. I thought our ability to cope would improve as time goes by, but it seems that the endless uncertainty and stress is not helping.  As a family we talk about how our lives have changed and keep changing.  Talking helps us cope.  At work we try to support each other and conversations have become more personal as we express our feelings.  Laughter is important and we try to make the most of any opportunity to make someone smile.