Climbing the beanstalk....living in the land of the giants.

Growing up in a realtively small statured house I never realised that I am considered short. Like, really short....
And I suppose in the real world I'm not that bad. At an ambitious 5'3 or 161cm's, there are definately people out there shorter than me.
Coming from a home where my mum is barely 5ft and my Dad is about 5'9, I figured I was about the middle of the road.

Even when I dated very tall guys in high school, I was spared from feeling odd by the inevitable presence of mothers or sisters around the same height as myself.

And later on, just to even things up I fell in love with high heels.
Magical 4 inch stilettos that were not only something absolutely beautiful and artistic to behold but they raised me up where I belong baby!

Ok, so they shortened the tendons in the backs of my legs so badly that one physiotherapist warned me that my achille's tendon would snap one day and unravel right up to my thigh. But thats the price you pay for stunning shoes!
In fact, I never owned a pair of flat soled shoes until my pregnant belly became so unwieldly that random strangers were concerned for the safety of my ankle's.

When I met Rusty, who stands a glorious 6'4 in his socks the height difference never really entered into my mind. Although it did enter my wallet and then onto my chiropractors bank account.
Having to get the crick's in my neck straightened out from trying to reach up and kiss the human skyscraper I fell in love with, is a rather expensive exercise.
In my highest pair of heels I fit neatly under his arm, like a christmas present.
In fact, he still jokes that if I had a flat head and my father owned a brewery I would be the perfect woman!
Anyway, I never felt even slightly out of place.
Until I met Rusty's family.
Spending time with my wonderful in-laws makes me feel like I've climbed the bean stalk. Everything about them is tall.
Even their house was tall. A queenslander, up on stilts.

Rusty's mum Sue is quite stauesque at just under (?) 6ft. She has the kind of long legs I have only ever dreamed of and I am almost positive she doesn't own a pair of high heels, not that she needs them.

My sister in law Jodie is 6ft and maybe a little more, has legs Giselle Bunchden would turn green with envy over and even now at 7 months pregnant looks willowy & ethereal.

I looked like I was due anyday and had gentlemen on the street ask me if I should sit down, just in case....

My brother in law Shaun is almost as tall as Rusty and even Nick, who is disabled is taller than me!
Oh the humanity....
My only saving grace is that Rusty's Dad, Tony is only a fraction taller than me. But he maintains it's because he's shrinking with age and once was a giant also.
We let him run with that, it's easier.

Now dear reader, I understand that your sitting there thinking...."Ok, they're taller than you. So what?"
Let me paint the picture for you.....
Have you ever been in a house where you can't see the numbers on the telephone....because it's up too high?
Or needed to get something out of a top cupboard in the kitchen but there isn't a step ladder to be found?
Ever stepped into a shower and you can't move the showerhead down...because you can't reach it in the first place?
Yup, I thought you'd get the picture.

My height is a joke that never gets old with these guys, and nothing brought the joke home more than recently when I took Blue to see his Child Health Nurse for his 6 month checkup.

Now, I knew I'd had a big baby. I saw photos of myself 2 weeks before he arrived....I looked like I was overdue with quads, it was truly frightening.
Not to mention uncomfortable.
So like any new mother I adore these visits where they measure and weigh and basically decree from a 5 minute visit, months apart whether or not you are succeeding at caring for this tiny infant.
As you can imagine, repeated measuring, referring to records and constantly saying "Hmmmmm" under your breath is not welcome at these appointments.
Just when I was about to break all composure and scream "WHAT???" The nurse turns to me and says...
"Please don't take this the wrong way but your son is a freak..."
Right....of course, I'll take that comment in the positive and happy way it was intended.
I must have looked pretty thunderous because she hurried to mention that at then 6 months old, he was 80cm's long and in the 98th percentile.
Which is a fancy way of saying if you put 100 little boys the same age in a room only 2 would be taller than him.
That mean't that at 6 months old.....my son....is HALF my adult height......

As you can imagine, everyone is having an absolute field day with this. I am almost positive that my mother in law remembers and giggles daily. Quite possibly, while she is reaching up to the top shelf in her kitchen to grab a mixing bowl.
But I am choosing to look on the bright side.
Very soon he'll be able to carry the groceries in, dust the ceiling fan's and take the washing off the line for me.
In fact, he'll probably be able to carry me when my legs get tired at the shops.
Sometimes being short has it's advantages.....

Glass half full me thinks!

Thanks for stopping by.

Hugs
Dee