KEEP IT IN THE PHAMLY

There are two main things I remember about The Phamly's move from Melbourne to Brisbane. The first is I had to give up my upright piano because it made more financial sense to sell it to pay to help move the rest of the household than to pay even more to move the heavy item. Adult me now sees why my parents decided to sell it, but at the time teen me was very emotional and upset, and swore to never play piano again. What a little shit I was, I've since forgotten most of my piano training.

The other thing I remember because we repeated the story so often because it's hilarious. We caught the train from Melbourne to Brisbane because back then air travel was way more expensive compared to land travel. On the ride, Mum Pham sat next to Big Brother Pham and I was seated next to Little Sissy Pham. At a train stop in rural NSW she got up to go to the toilet. Being the responsible, caring sister that I am, I flopped over into her seat and promptly fell asleep.

Next thing I know, I wake up because the train has stopped and there's a fuss up ahead where policemen have come onboard our carriage. They start walking down the aisle and everyone is confused wondering what the hell is going on. When the cops stop at Mum Pham, the expression on her face is priceless. I've never seen someone look so shocked yet guilty. Unbeknownst to everyone else there are cats on the train. Our cats.

We smuggled Cuddles and Tigger Pham onto the train in our carry-on because no way was my immigrant mother paying to fly these furballs to Brisbane and no way was this attached teen letting her give our cats away. We cut off the top of a rectangle laundry basket and placed it inside a black bag, and our petrified kitties huddled in there quietly for most of the ride. At one point Cuddles, the braver of the two crawled out while we were both sleeping and was walking about. Little Sissy caught her before anyone else noticed.

Had someone in fact seen? Had they reported us to the authorities? How much trouble were we in if the police was involved? All this was racing through Mum Pham's head when she was looking up at the cops who had asked for her by name.

To her great relief, they didn't know about the cats. They were on the train to return her youngest daughter who had sleep walked off the train in regional NSW with no home address or forwarding phone number because we had left our old house, and nobody thought to give us kids the new address or contact details for Brisbane because we didn't plan on anyone getting lost off the train.

Mum Pham aged a couple of years that night and Little Sissy Pham was so traumatised she never sleep walked again after that night. Tune in next time for the saga that was returning Little Sissy Pham to the train. That's another entertaining story for some regional file, not so much for Little Sissy Pham.




If you want to start from the beginning of Phamly history, read:
Part 1 - O Captain! My Captain! Dad Pham's navy days during the Vietnam War.
Part 2 - P.O.W. Viet Cong Re-education Camp Dad Pham's time as a prisoner of war.
Part 3 - Living with Viet Cong Mum Pham's experience with communism.
Part 4 - Boat People Dad Pham seeks refuge after the war.
Part 5 - Finding Faith Dad finds peace.
Part 6 - When Herr met Frau - Dad Pham meets Mum Pham.
Part 7 - Life in Germany: the early years - Dad Pham sets up life in Germany.
Part 8 - Life in Germany: the later years - Dad gets sick, Mum steps up.
Part 9 - Getting ready for Australia - Mum Pham is on a mission.
Part 10 - Coming to Australia - My first memories of Australia.
Part 11 - Live in Brisbane the first time - The story of why we left Brisbane.
Part 12 - Moving to Melbourne - First impressions.
Part 13 - Life in Melbourne - Dad Pham - The good old days.
Part 14 - The Other Phams - Our neighbours in Melbourne were Phams too.
Part 15 - Life in Melbourne - Mum Pham - Our Sunday Phamly traditions began in Melbourne.
Part 16 - Cats On A Train - Moving to Brisbane
Part 17 - Sleepwalking Scare - Moving to Brisbane continued
Part 18 - A House in Brisbane - Moving to Brisbane continued some more

I visit Mum's grave in Melbourne whenever I am in town and have car to drive out west to lay flowers and pray to her. Mum was never big on flowers, but leaving food there to rot is against the rules and also just wrong. The memorial garden is peaceful and well-maintained. Flowers that begin to die are removed by the groundskeepers so the cemetery is kept nice and fresh for grieving visitors.

I make the trip and lay the flowers to show my respects, but I don't feel connected to Mum in the graveyard. I feel connected to her when I find myself standing with my hand on my hip while I stir food in the stove like she used to. I feel connected when I wash my face in the morning and glimpse myself in the mirror looking like Mum Pham - except that she looks a bit blind because she can't see much when she takes her glasses off to wash her face, whereas my LASIK laser eyes are tired from not enough sleep.

I feel connected to Mum on Mother's Day when we celebrate with Dad Pham because it always falls near his birthday. This year it happened to be his birthday. We celebrated by making Dad one of his favourite dishes - bánh cuốn. But then because he'd spent his morning mopping the kitchen for Phamly feast, he was fast asleep before we got to dessert. That's OK, I'll be back this weekend for our tradition of sleepovers, and 5am wake up calls for the Eurovision Finale.

I used to dress like a toddler's dream in glittery rainbow unicorn everything. Anything bright, colourful and shiny that caught my eye would join my wardrobe. Essentially, I dressed like I was destined to visit the Unicorn Store, and sometimes I still do but usually only on weekends. Last year my preferences changed so I went through a movie maker to make my colours less crazy, and more subtle.

After 30+ years on earth I wanted to dress more my age in the office. I mean, they say to dress the part and my part is no longer new kid on the block, I'm in a senior role because I got old and gained experience. Suddenly I'm in a position where I don't feel comfortable wearing short Garfield dresses or fruity tops and bottoms or fruit in general to work.

This change was also spurred by watching my boyfriend go to a new job looking sharp in dress pants and a button-up every day. There's something nice about looking smart. Then when he got a work uniform, seeing him come home and change into his casual clothes to relax was also very appealing. I haven't really had that separation between work me and home me for most of my life because I've worked in street fashion and music where casual clothes is the uniform. Most people probably wish they could be more themselves at work. Me? I wish I was less homely at work.

These days I've added clean lines, simpler patterns, and solid colours to my work wardrobe. I found a nicely cut, plain dress that I bought in three colourways that I call my 'work uniform.' And have some mix and match tops and skirts so I don't always wear the same outfit to work. I still get the urge to buy bright colours, clashing prints and crazy patterns but when I do, I remind myself I barely wear my current unicorn clothes anymore. Movie makeovers don't happen overnight but they do happen. For me, it took about 6 months to slowly gather work wardrobe staples until one day I realised I hadn't dressed like a kid at work in weeks. Look at me... finally growing up.