Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Life Makeover Principle #6:
Don’t be a victim. Take RESPONSIBILITY for your thoughts, actions, and results.
‘He has what?’ Cara’s wide eyes locked with those of the specialist, while she bobbed Toby up and down on her knee.
‘Coeliac disease,’ the doctor replied. ‘We could do a biopsy to be certain, but based on his symptoms, your family medical history, and the fact that his antibody levels are through the roof, I’m confident this is the diagnosis.’
‘So, this means he can’t eat any foods containing gluten, right?’
‘Right. No wheat, rye, oats, or barley.’ He handed her some sheets of paper. ‘Here’s more detailed information, and contact details of some dieticians if you need help adjusting his diet. And this is a list you can bring shopping with you, to help you choose the right foods for Toby. ’
‘Thanks, er ... will he ever grow out of it?’ Cara asked.
‘Unless someone discovers a cure, no. He’ll have to eat a gluten free diet for the rest of his life.’
‘I see. You mentioned there was something else too?’
‘Yes. According to the other tests we did, he’s also allergic to cow’s milk and soybeans.’
‘Milk? Soybeans?’ Cara echoed. ‘But I don’t think he’s ever eaten a soybean.’
‘Soy is hidden in many processed foods, so you’ll need to read the labels. Gluten and dairy products are also used in food processing.’
‘And I guess soy sauce is out, right?’
‘That’s right. But there are gluten free alternatives.’
‘Oh well, there goes tonight’s honey soy chicken wings!’ Cara managed a brief laugh, while thoughts swam around her mind... How would she be able to change Toby’s diet? His favourite foods were cheese on toast, yoghurt, choc-chip cookies, and milk. Milk! How on earth would he get to sleep at night without his cup of milk? She couldn’t even replace it with soy milk! ‘Do you think this diet will help clear up his eczema?’ Cara asked.
‘It’s possible. Eczema is sometimes the result of a food allergy, but in some cases it still persists despite a change in diet, so we’ll have to wait and see, I’m afraid.’
‘Mum, what’s a molecule?’ Lily asked after school, as she opened her homework book on the kitchen table. She was nothing like Cara at age seven. Cara would head outside to play as soon as she got home, but every Monday, Lily completed her homework for the week all in one sitting. Cara hoped this habit would continue into Lily’s high school years. The thought of helping her with fractions, essays, and science experiments gave her a panic attack.
‘Um, a molecule is ... it’s a ... well, it’s kind of like ... Lil, ask your father when he wakes up, okay?’ She knew what a molecule was, but couldn’t think how to put it into words. She could probably draw one though, but considering the homework asked for a written description, she doubted it would suffice.
‘Mum, did you know that water is really called H 2 0?’ Lily asked.
‘Yes, that’s right. Wow, you’re learning a lot!’ Cara smiled at her daughter, whose light brown pigtails framed her face as she filled in her homework.
Lily’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, I just learned what a molecule is. It’s the smallest particle of a substance.’
‘Oh yes, of course!’ Apart from doing all her homework in one go, Lily had also developed the habit of telling her mother everything she was writing down, showing off her newfound knowledge and vocabulary. This Monday ritual made Cara proud, and she wondered how she managed to give birth to such a smart young girl, then she remembered she married a smart young man.
After putting away all the gluten free, dairy free, soy free, and possibly taste free food she’d bought following the doctor’s appointment, and hoping the pantry doors would stay shut, Cara stood on a step stool and put her three new cookbooks away in the top cupboard. She was just about to close the doors when they all fell out. The thirteenth ‘bugger!’ for the day almost escaped her mouth, but she caught it just in time, unlike the cookbooks. Packing them back into the cupboard, she noticed one she hadn’t used in a while: ‘ Nutritious Meals for the Busy Family’ was the first cookbook she ever owned. It had been a birthday gift from her mother when she was pregnant with Lily. She remembered what a shock to the system becoming a mother had been, not just physically and emotionally, but also in relation to the lifestyle change. When she received the cookbook, she’d cried, suddenly burdened with the realisation of the responsibilities ahead of her. Having been used to receiving clothes, jewellery, candles, and cosmetics as gifts, she’d now progressed to receiving oven mitts, Tupperware containers, and family cookbooks, and was somehow expected to know which thread count she’d prefer for her daughter’s first sheet set. At least one of her friends had given her some nice smelling bath salts for her birthday last month, but to be honest, she never had time for a bath (not counting the memorable one in the hotel), so the bath salts were about as useful as a resealable sticker on a box of chocolates.
While Toby sat in front of the television munching on a rice cookie, Cara snipped off the corner from a packet of rice pasta, plonking the contents into the saucepan of boiling water. She tried to open the ‘easy-pull’ ring on the carton of rice milk, grunting with effort, but resorted to stabbing a hole in the carton with scissors. ‘Take that, you dishonest excuse for packaging,’ she mumbled. She hoped Toby would never develop an allergy to rice, or she’d be totally screwed. Cara’s head flipped to the side as Pete entered the kitchen, tripping on a corner of the degenerating linoleum floor.
‘We must get this floor fixed, honey, or maybe even replaced.’
‘Yeah, I guess so,’ she replied with a sigh, mentally adding it to her To Do List. I have enough trouble taking care of my pelvic floor let alone the kitchen floor, Cara thought, and would have said out loud had it not been for the fact that she’d have to answer the inevitable ‘What’s a pelvic floor?’ question from Lily. She’d find out soon enough, there was no need to scar her youth with an explanation of female physiology just yet. Cara stopped chopping onions for a moment, realising that with Lily turning eight in a couple of weeks, there were only a few years to go until she’d have to talk to her about pelvic floors and other such things. Cara shuddered, in no way prepared for that. For now, all she could think about was how to deal with Toby’s condition.
Cara slid the onions into the pan then grunted again, trying to open a jar of mustard. ‘Stupid bloody lid. Geez, you have to be Houdini to open things these days!’ She took a breath, and tried again.
‘Here, let me.’ Pete twisted the lid and opened it with a quick pop.
‘Thanks, Houdini,’ Cara said. ‘Oh, Pete, do you know what a molecule is?’
‘Sure. It’s the smallest particle of a substance that retains the chemical and physical properties of the substance it was derived from.’
Great. Not only was her husband Houdini, he was also Einstein.
‘How’s my little molecule?’ Pete put his arms around Lily.
‘Daddy, don’t be silly, I’m not a molecule!’ Lily laughed. ‘I’m just made of molecules,’ she added, closing her homework book and opening another, before looking up at her mother. ‘Mum, what’s Viagra?’
The jar of mustard fell from Cara’s grip and cracked into several pieces on the floor.
‘Don’t worry, hun, I’ll clean that up while you answer our daughter’s question,’ Pete said, hiding a grin by scratching his nose.
‘Wait.’ Cara scooped a smidgen of mustard from the floor, careful to get a bit that wasn’t in direct contact with the floor or broken glass. She probed it with her finger to check, then pushed it off the spoon and into the pan. Pete questioned her with his eyes. ‘Well?’ Cara shrugged. ‘The recipe needs mustard.’
‘So, what is it?’ Lily asked.
A question about pelvic floors would have been preferable, but an erectile dysfunction medication? Geez! After a vague and fumbled response along the lines of it being a special medicine for men , Cara motioned to Pete for support.
‘Where did you hear that word, Lil?’ Pete enquired.
‘Some ad on TV.’ She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear after it came loose from its pigtail. ‘I’m writing a story for English about kings and queens, and I think ‘Lord Viagra’ would be a fitting name for a king.’
The girl’s vocabulary was growing by the minute. It was like she had intellectual Viagra.
‘Ahh...’ Cara cleared her throat. ‘I don’t know if you should call him that. What about, Lord...’ she looked around the room for inspiration, ‘...Mustard. Lord Mustard. How about that?’
Lily shook her head, her pigtails swinging side to side. ‘That’s just silly, Mum.’
‘I actually think Lord Viagra is a fitting name for a king,’ Pete declared, and Cara shot him an ‘are-you-kidding-me?’ glare. ‘Yeah, I’m sure the kingdom would all rise in his honour,’ he added, and Cara spluttered with laughter.
‘See, Mum. I knew it was a good name.’ Lily’s little hand scribbled away on the page of her homework book .
Pete cleared his throat. ‘So, hun, what did the doctor say about Toby?’ He sidled next to Cara as she stirred the contents of the pan.
She told him the doctor’s diagnosis and filled him in on her expensive shopping trip. The gluten free products were at least double the price of their gluten-containing counterparts, some even triple. The ‘health food’ aisle might as well have been called the ‘get-a-second-job-and-re-mortgage-your-house’ aisle.
‘Wow.’ Pete combed his fingers through his short hair. ‘Just like my cousin, and my uncle.’ He walked to the lounge room where Toby sat in his walker watching Barney on the TV screen. ‘How’s my man?’ He kissed the top of Toby’s head, and Toby pointed to the screen, smiling at Barney’s rendition of ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’.
‘It’s okay, we’ll manage,’ Pete said as he came back into the kitchen. ‘We’ll adjust the budget and sort out the cupboards, and make sure Toby can’t reach anything he can’t eat. How about we work out a weekly meal plan too, so we know what ingredients to have ready each day?’
‘Yes, we’ll have to do that,’ Cara replied. ‘Can you pass me the cornflour?’ Pete handed it to her. ‘Oh wait! What does cornflour have in it?’ She wasn’t used to checking labels.
‘It says gluten free, look.’ Pete pointed to the label. ‘I think some cornflour has wheat in it though, so make sure you always buy this brand.’ Although Cara did the majority of the cooking, Pete was quite handy in the kitchen, having had some experience working in his parents’ cafe when he was younger. ‘So, you’re making a white sauce?’ he asked, as Cara poured rice milk into the pan.
‘That’s the plan. I’m making gluten free pasta with tuna, in a dairy-free and soy-free white sauce. ’
‘Aren’t you a clever chef!’ Pete said. ‘Want me to grab a lemon for the sauce?’
‘Yes, please.’ She turned to face him. ‘And a steaming hot coffee too, while you’re at it.’ She winked. ‘Or a glass of wine. Or the whole bottle, whatever.’ She smiled and Pete gave her a rub on the back.
Fifteen minutes later, the Collins family sat at the table. Toby, in his high-chair, was even higher up than Cara who could probably benefit from a high-chair of her own. Cara served up bowls of pasta which had just about dissolved into a gluggy mess, topped with a generous amount of white sauce and tuna to hide the glug.
‘Mum, this tastes weird,’ said Lily.
‘Yuckk!’ blurted Toby, as he spat out his mouthful.
Jacob didn’t seem to care, he kept eating while colouring in his drawing.
‘It’s too sweet, isn’t it?’ said Cara, scrunching up her lips.
‘A little,’ Pete replied. ‘I think rice milk is a tad sweet for a white sauce, but it’s okay, it’s not that bad.’ He continued eating, if only to spare his wife’s feelings.
‘You’re a bad liar. It’s awful.’ Cara put down her fork, and laughed at her creation.
‘Put it this way, I don’t think we’ll need dessert tonight,’ Pete commented. ‘This is like dinner and dessert rolled into one!’
Cara laughed harder and flicked a morsel of soggy pasta at her husband, who flicked another morsel back. The kids joined in, and the table became a soggy, gluten free mess.
‘Honey, I’ll cook tomorrow night.’
‘But you’re on night shifts this week. You sure?’
‘No problem. And after dinner, we’ll sort out a menu, okay? ’
‘Okay.’ She dabbed at the remaining tears of laughter under her eyes. ‘Hmm, I think I might have that wine now.’
‘Me has wine too?’ Toby asked with curious eyes.
She laughed. ‘Sorry, Tobes, it’s only for grown-ups.’
After the lengthy clean up, Pete left for work and Cara put Toby to bed, crying because he couldn’t drink his milk. When the house was quiet, Cara opened Facebook.
Cara Collins is wondering if it’s possible to have a mid-life crisis at twenty-seven.
At the club meeting the following week, Cara asked that same question while in the Hot Seat, and although several of the women nodded ‘yes’, and Wendy said she’d had her first mid-life crisis at twenty-four, Liz said it was simply a case of feeling overwhelmed with one’s responsibilities. Cara had arrived late – her uncharacteristic punctuality from the last couple of meetings escaping her – to find Miranda already in the Hot Seat talking about how she’d been offered a casual position at the beauty salon in the gym.
‘That’s great, Miranda!’ Cara had said as she got settled into a chair with a cup of steaming coffee.
‘Thanks! What about that opportunity you mentioned last time, the art shop? Any news?’ It was unlike Miranda to waste precious time in her Hot Seat with other people’s concerns, but perhaps she was growing into a more balanced human being. She certainly looked happier.
‘No news yet, unfortunately.’ Cara’s excitement about the possible chance to have her artworks selling in a fancy store had gradually waned, as each day passed without a word from this ‘Alice’ woman. She’d thought about going into Queen of Arts to say she was just passing by, but decided against it, and didn’t want to seem too desperate.
Cara had noticed that one of the chairs around the oval table was empty. She mentally checked off a roll-call of each woman in the club.
Leanne. Leanne wasn’t there.
On asking about her, Liz said that Leanne had decided to leave The Club. Although she’d been enjoying the meetings, she was feeling overwhelmed, what with the huge renovation of her house going on and everything. Plus, one of her children had come into money troubles, so she needed to help out, and said it was probably best she just focused on those issues for now.
And then there were nine.
What a shame. Leanne seemed like she really needed a Life Makeover. Like she’d spent her life caring for her family and finally had a chance to do something for herself, just like Cara – only she hadn’t been doing the caring for as long. There’s no way Cara would put a house renovation above her own ‘renovation’. The house could stay messy and out-dated as far as she was concerned, the club meetings were too important to her life now – like a friend she’d come to know well, there for her when she needed guidance.
Miranda’s Hot Seat continued, followed by Gina’s whose excitement about starting a new career seemed to have disappeared. The warm glow she’d developed at the last meeting after deciding to pursue her dreams had been replaced by the same controlled expression she’d had when the club started. She said she was going to postpone the decision until the end of the year, giving herself more time to see if she was destined to be a mother.
Molly was struggling with a lull in her business, and after much reluctance, agreed she finally needed to set up a website and Facebook page to promote Glamour Pets. Until now, she’d been relying on flyers on noticeboards, letterbox drops, word-of-mouth referrals, and a joint venture with some veterinary clinics. Liz advised she should try tapping into the affluent market, and having a professional website would help reach people via the internet who were searching for such a specialised service. Not being internet savvy, Molly said she’d have to invest in professional help for the task. Rebecca had also offered the suggestion of getting a uniform branded with her logo, instead of wearing the usual loose linen pants and frumpy t-shirt. Well, she hadn’t said the word frumpy , but it was obvious she was thinking it, the way she examined Molly’s outfit with pursed lips. Molly never dressed up, and even looked a little like the scruffy puppy dogs she groomed – minus the glamour. Rebecca told Molly if her business was about glamour, even though it was for pets, she had to look the part too. Miranda offered to help her choose a suitable uniform if needed.
‘So, Cara, did you get those business cards organised?’ asked Liz.
‘Oh yes, I did.’ She’d almost forgotten about them, with everything she’d been dealing with lately. Cara withdrew some from her bag and showed them to the group. She’d chosen against having her qualifications in pregnancy, childbirth, and breastfeeding displayed, opting instead for ‘Cara Collins – Artist. Specialising in portraits and decorative paintings.’
‘What I’d like you to do next is create a professional looking portfolio, with samples and prints of your best work. Then, if you don’t hear from Alice soon, I would call her shop to ask for an appointment, and ring around some other shops and galleries as well. You need to get yourself out there, show the world what you can do.’
The thought of ‘getting out there’ and approaching businesses was as daunting as explaining pelvic floors and the physiological mechanisms of Viagra to Lily. But, that’s what this group was about – getting out of that comfort zone in order to create a better life. Liz had told them, ‘In order to have the fruit you must climb the tree’.
I’d rather have chocolate than fruit. Cara smiled to herself.
Liz withdrew a small box from the shelves against the side wall and stood in front of the group. ‘I have an interesting assignment for you all to do over the next month or two.’ She handed out bundles of what looked like business cards, only they weren’t. ‘These are affirmation cards, or more accurately, ‘words of wisdom’ cards.’
Everyone received a bundle held together by an elastic band. The front of the gold-rimmed cards read, ‘Grandma Joy’s Words of Wisdom’, followed by one of her legendary sayings. On the back, it said: ‘I hope these words bring you wisdom and inspiration. Although simple, these words are powerful. Listen and act on them. And when you wish, please pass this card onto someone else, or leave it for someone to find.’
‘As you go about your daily lives, leave a card here and there. The idea is that somehow, a person who is in need of that exact little piece of wisdom will find the card, and it will hopefully add a special touch to their day. And who knows, it might even make their day.’
‘What an awesome idea,’ Miranda said. ‘I’m going to leave some around the hotel. That is, as long as the cleaners don’t suck them up with the vacuum! ’
Cara’s mind flitted through the various places she could leave some. There weren’t many options, unless she went out of her way, and she was sure leaving them in the different rooms around the house wouldn’t do much good. She could leave some at PlayLand Central, as long as they didn’t get trampled on by a stampede of kids. And the supermarket, maybe lodged between the packets of gluten free pasta for those poor parents like her that had to navigate the challenges of cooking for an extremely allergic child. Or what about at the pharmacy, tucked neatly beside the herbal anti-depressants?
‘Are the cards made from recycled materials?’ asked Shauna.
There goes Mother Nature – at it again.
Someone chuckled, but Cara wasn’t sure who.
Liz smiled. ‘I thought you might ask that, and I made sure to use a company who prints their cards on recycled materials.’
This satisfied Shauna, and she popped the cards into her bag.
‘I can give one to each of my clients – the human kind that is,’ Molly suggested.
‘What a great idea.’ Liz’s eyes widened. ‘I’ll speak to you later about getting some more cards for you. It’d be a nice way to thank your clients for their business.’
‘And I guess I could leave one in each house we sell or rent,’ Rebecca said. ‘I could make it our realty’s signature, or calling card.’
Liz’s eyes became shiny. ‘You don’t know how much your enthusiasm means to me. Grandma Joy would be delighted at her words being spread around the city.’
Zoe inched forward and clasped her hands together under her chin. ‘It might end up being a local mystery: Who Is Grandma Joy? Oooh! – I could write a story on it!’ She whipped out a notebook and scribbled frantically.
‘Really? Do you think that would be possible?’ asked Liz.
Zoe looked up from her notebook with a smile. ‘Possible? Haven’t you been telling us all year that anything is possible?’
Liz held out her hands and bowed her head. ‘It’s good to see my teachings are sinking in.’
‘I’ll talk to my boss. If I can do an initial human-interest story on the concept, we might be able to include a request for people who have found the cards to come forward and share their experience in an interview.’ Zoe’s eyes were wide as she scribbled some more in her notebook. ‘It would also be good publicity for you, Liz. After all, Grandma Joy is kind of the soul of The Club.’
Liz held a hand to her heart. ‘She certainly is.’
‘Liz, did you end up making some expression-of-interest flyers for next year’s club?’ asked Rebecca.
‘Oh yes,’ Liz replied. ‘Thanks for the reminder. I was too excited about the wisdom cards!’ She opened her handbag and pulled out a wad of flyers. ‘More things for you to spread around, ladies.’ She divided them up and handed them out. ‘Though I’d prefer if you handed these ones out more strategically, instead of leaving them in random places.’ She smiled.
‘Looks great, I’ll get onto this tomorrow.’ Rebecca raised the flyers in the air then put them into her bag.
‘Also,’ Liz said in a drawn-out way that suggested she was about to share a secret. ‘I wanted to let you know we’ll be having a surprise special guest visiting one of the upcoming meetings.’ She rubbed her hands together.
‘Ooh, who?’ Miranda bounced on the spot .
‘You’ll have to wait and see!’
‘Oh, Liz, the suspense, the suspense!’ Wendy cried. ‘A celebrity, right?’
Liz nodded. ‘One of my regular clients.’
Cara’s heart beat a little faster. She’d never met a celebrity before, and possibilities flitted through her mind about who it might be. ‘Male or female?’ she asked.
‘Okay, one clue. Female.’
‘A television host? Model? Politician? Actress?’ Rebecca shot some options from her mouth.
‘Ah,’ Liz pointed with a scolding finger. ‘I see where this is going, trying to play Celebrity Head are we?’ She smiled. ‘I don’t know when she’ll be visiting yet, but I’ll be sure to let you know. Or maybe I’ll just surprise you one night.’ She winked.
‘I can’t wait!’ Miranda bounced again.
‘Now remember the form you signed in your welcome pack, just a reminder that whatever happens in the club stays in the club, and that includes anything our celebrity guest talks about.’ Liz made a point of looking at Zoe, even though everyone knew she wasn’t the type to break the rules and leak juicy gossip to her newspaper. Zoe made a cross-my-heart motion with her finger across her chest.
After a lively discussion about potential fame for everyone through Zoe’s newspaper, and a brainstorming session about places they could leave the words of wisdom cards, Cara stood, hooked her bag over her shoulder, and farewelled the women. She was anxious to get home and start her art portfolio, not to mention thinking up more possibilities for who the celebrity could be. As she went to open the door of The Ruby Room, her eye caught something she’d never noticed before. A quote, hand-written in calligraphy was displayed in a small frame on the back of the door:
May the power of the Ruby light your way forward in the direction of your dreams, give you the strength to follow your heart, and guide you to living a life of love, passion, and purpose.
Cara read the quote a second time to absorb it, and it was as though the words were carried by her smile as she walked out the door with a confident stride.
It was time to start climbing the proverbial fruit tree.