I really need to go to bed, but

Suse did this on her site and I really liked it as a concept. I figured I had made you all endure sooo much of my wailing, gnashing of teeth and crying that I should give you some glimmer of hope as hell, I want you to come back and visit not just to see how derailed the train is or worse, just slowing down to rubberneck the wreck that is left. Even if that is what I would do... SO... five things I did on the weekend 1. Cooked brunch for 11 adults and 7 kids to help celebrate Oscar's birthday. 2. Sat outside with two Sunday papers and the Saturday SMH and read them all. Almost. 3. Made a kick-arse chocolate cake 4. Ate more chocolate on Saturday than I have consumed in the previous 13 months. 5. Hosted Felix's first friend sleep-over (and sent them to bed early because MY GOD the testosterone driven competitive "I won" "No, I won" banter is something I can only live with oh, TWELVE hours a day) UPDATE on the return to work world: Day two of bus travel and I can kinda feel the pressure I am putting on myself easing a little. Someone offered me a seat this morning (as opposed to me having to ask) and he was asleep before Collaroy again. He also fell asleep in my arms this afternoon, with dappled sun across his face as we crossed the Harbour Bridge. This child is such a gift. You are all on notice to remind me of this when I belly-ache about how sick I am of the bathroom smelling like wee and grossing you all out with moaning about why Why WHY do boys need to piss on the floor as much as they do in the toilet when he's older and toilet trained. And stuff. Oscar is in the midst of his 10 day intensive swim school program - where they walk the kids 20 minutes to the nearest ocean pool, give them a swim lesson (free) and then walk them back to school for the rest of the day for two whole weeks. Every day. It has been relatively hitch free and my whole anxiety attack about it going to fall in a heap is seeming a little silly. It is this sort of program that was one of the main motivators for mainstreaming him. That he has the right, the RIGHT, to the events, opportunities and experiences offered to every other child his age. And here he is, having that opportunity and you should have seen him tonight telling me all about it! The most pressing thing at the moment is producing enough breast milk to get two full bottles for Jasper for daycare days. I can feed him when I drop him off, but that makes me late to work and really, I'd rather he get a bottle, I get to work early then leave early and get home at a reasonable hour to spend some time with the bigger boys. I'm still going to the centre at lunchtimes to do that feed. The last two nights I got up during the night - once at 1.20 and last night at 3.20. this is OK in that I get 180ml or so, but then getting back to sleep is an issue due to my current state of mind so I'm awake for 1.5-3 hours during the night. Tonight I stayed up late to pump now instead of in the middle of the night and only got 80ml. So check in at around 2, I'm sure you'll hear my squeaky pump...g'ah.

Unconscious Mutterings - Bec Too

The closest I've come to making an effort to blog in (ahem) a while... Baby step:: slowly Wasted:: junkie Reggie:: Livermore Pitiful:: Act Acting out:: drama Tomato:: soup Bad night:: babies Trip:: ometer Finance charges:: like a wounded bull Sport:: tragic You can play too! Visit LunaNina mtc bec

So

today I caught the bus with The New Recruit. It was MUCH much better. It took 50 minutes and he didn't cry at all. In fact, after about t.h.r.e.e. minutes on the bus he fell asleep in The Ample Cleavage. I left work at around 4.45pm. He just played on my lap the whole way home. There was a lot of drool. I kept reminding myself to take deep, slow breaths. To calm down. To drop my shoulders. And I only cried once. When my stepmother, in a complete state of incredulity, asked me how I felt about the situation causing her incredulity. The situation was my sister-in-law not wanting me or the boys at my niece's second birthday party yesterday. I know we're just collateral in a failed marriage, but I was really hurt. I am really hurt. But it was nice to cry about something, as opposed to everything. ***** The weekend was a mixed bag. But the Oboy, the e.i.g.h.t. year old, had a wonderful weekend.

Unconscious Mutterings

1. Baby step::twinkle toes
2. Wasted::space
3. Reggie::Arnold
4. Pitiful::Case
5. Acting out::Aggression
6. Tomato::Red
7. Bad night::Starlight
8. Trip::Station Wagon
9. Finance charges::Arghhhhh
10. Sport::Rort

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8 years ago today

I became a mother. To say it was a steep learning curve was a bit of an understatement But I do have a remarkable ability to produce very.cute.children. Even if it has rendered (or maybe just confirmed) me to be a complete and utter nutbag. Happy Birthday Oggaboy.

The family/work balance

would be awesome. Awwwwesome if I could just pull myself together and.stop.crying. Is it tiredness at getting back into the work/life sacrifice? Sorry, routine. Is it relief at being out of the house? Is it because of the thinking, "OK, I'm back but I really need a better way of getting here", but that every way I think about is just on a sliding scale of suckful to really suckful? Is this is? Is this how I'm going to feel for now until forever. (And yeah, I know it's not forever but move over, I was wallowing in this vat of mud first.) Is it because I'm stressed at wondering how can I pump a decent amount of milk a decent number of hours after his last feed for the day so he has fresh milk the next day, but if I stay up to wait for that decent number of hours to pass I am.a.mess. Well, an even bigger mess. Things that have made me cry this week: - the kids - traffic - the kids - money - the return of "mummy, you're as beautiful as a swan and a princess" - Felix's standard line to me when I am working. - money - traffic - that point when you get a good run and think "yes" only to turn the slight bend and see four long, non-moving lanes of cars. Cars that are way nicer than yours. - crying - Jasper's, Oscar's, Felix's. - Felix's hip - which he hurt again (third time it's been this bad), could not bear weight on by Wednesday but got the all clear from x-rays and a GP. - Oscar's schooling. Particularly when Chef relyed a messge to me from his teacher telling me to relax, that we'll just take one term at a time and that he is doing great. - When I discovered Oscar must have had an 'accident' at school as I (re)hung the washing on the line and found a pair of school shorts that are not ours. - Jasper's crying - the harried "oh dear Lord all hope is lost" crying, that he's perfected in the car this week. - the kids - money - Olympic medal presentations - absolute tragedies - TV commercials - put anything, ANYTHING! here _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ This afternoon I think I had what would be called an anxiety attack, in that it involved not being able to get a decent sized breath, sweating, crying and mild shaking for oh, about two hours. I've had two big cries since and am pretty resigned to the fact I'm going to call Dr J on Monday with a, "I think I need to come and see you a bit sooner than expected" kinda call. And that just makes me want to cry all over again.

Knackered.

Well, this explains most of it. Also being seconded into Another Place, as the politicians call it. Interesting couple of months ahead. And yes, I do have to be so f*ing cryptic, actually. Also The Prof appears to have sprained his heart. Yep. You heard right. Interesting times. Plus, Dad moved to another hospital which is a bigger effort to reach as of today. Good fun. Plus, plus I missed tonight's P&C meeting because, as I said to the Pea Princess, there is only so much you can do, honey. The moral of my blog tonight is:Forgive Yourself. There's probably an Aesop's Fable that will back it up somewhere. And finally, the pub diagonally behind us sounds like it is hosting a bachelor party on this lovely Tuesday Evening. Guess which establishment is about to taste the School Captain's wrath? mtc - but not tonight unless you are the pub. Bec

Bite me... and other happy thoughts I have in traffic

I am an advocate for public transport. I know I know, many of you live in countries where only freaks and weirdos catch public transport, but you also have governments who seem to think attacking people is a good way to garner peace, so I think I'm on a winner. It's cheap, is better for the environment, and as I have come to realise, quite quick. So, it was a very big decision for me to drive to work with the New Recruit. I never intended to. I was always going to take him in to daycare on the bus with me. Until my workmates laughed when I told them, then looked horrified when they realised I wasn't joking, then said, "why wouldn't you drive?" and I was all, "why wouldn't I drive?! Indeed!" No stinky people who seem to have never heard of deodorant. No middle-aged men sitting spread-legged. No young women never offering their seat to their pregnant sistas. No sardine reminisent crammed journeys. My own music! My own car! Arriving at work looking fresh and clean! What a pup. It has taken me N.I.N.E.T.Y. minutes in the car both mornings. Do you know just how much SCREAMING the New Recruit can do in that time, as the car, he does not like. That does not include the parking the car, the getting out of the car, the getting him to daycare and getting me to work component. Which adds another half an hour. It takes me FIFTY minutes door to desk on the bus. So here are some things I've noticed in one hundred and eighty minutes of peak-hour traffic... - young women drivers are APPALLING. Maybe it's the oversized sunglasses impeding their vision. Maybe it's the Apline Lights hanging out of their mouth. Maybe it's the constant chronic texting because "oh my God, I sor (sic) Trent last night and like, he smiled at me but I was all get fucked Trent, you SUC". Maybe this seasons gold espadrilles keeps getting caught under the break/clutch/accelerator. Or maybe the tcktcktcktck of their indicators is a great comedown of the Es they dropped the night before. WHATEVER the reason, they SUCK. They're selfish, OBLIVIOUS to the bazillion other motorists on the road and are really really pissing.me.off. - I wonder if Jasper would scream this much on the bus. - I wonder if I could breastfeed him on the bus if he did scream this much. - Catching the bus would save me at least about 50 bucks a week. - Men in Commodores. Read: the company pays for this car. I adhere to traditional work practices and think Australian Business Limited makes sense, as opposed to the fascist, mysogynistic, patriarchal devil spawn it is. These men have never made dinner in their lives. They have no idea where the vacuum is and would express incredulity as to why they should. Their wives do e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. in the home, with the kids and lie on their backs at least once a week for him to relieve all that stress from work. And yet there is still this poisonous, underlying current of 'in her place' trickling through these men's collective psyche. These are the men who think The Footy Show is top quality tv and MMM is awesome. These men dream of getting a blowjob while sitting behind the wheel of their company car and it would not even occur to them to give anything to the blower except maybe throwing her a twenty... They hog the road. They zoom up the lane that is ending a few cars away rather than merging in a considerate and timely way like the rest of us. They all live in Cherrybrook or Forestville. - Oh a gap in the traffic, go, Go, GO! - God I HATE the Wakehurst Parkway/Warringah Road intersection. - Men in convertibles. Men, it is p.i.t.y. you see in our collective eyes, not envy. You sad, sorry little men. - Women in convertibles. We all know you are the trophy wife. We all know you work in sales on a womens magazine. Get over it, do that button up on your blouse or maybe get a bigger size in the lycra t, and keep.your.eyes. on.the.road, rather than the visor mirror as you apply your cock-sucking red lipstick. Again. - This baby calm CD is actually very calming. - Tradies. Dudes, you are SO late. You were meant to be at work HOURS ago. - What I've said more in two days than in two months: "We're almost there" "I'm back!" "WHY are you slowing down? WHY? Oh, that's why. Sorry." The end.

One day down

and I'm alive and not crying! It took us 1.5hours to get to work. It was raining. People are frightened of rain, that somehow it might splash their car and strip paint off. Or something. Jasper had a great day. He even took the bottle. He seems relatively unharmed. I went to work. Conversed with adults, did some work, ate a salad sandwich and really had quite a lovely time thank you very much. The boys had done homework, been fed and bathed by the time I got home. (I'm enjoying this while it lasts, which will probably be 2-21/2 weeks.) I'm feeling much better about Oscar because my Mum said all the right things to me and kinda pulled me out of my quagmire. But I am very.very.tired.

Washing the antiseptic smell off the latchkey kid.

That is all.

Unconscious Mutterings

1. Right time::for love
2. Funeral::cage
3. Calculate::maths
4. Believe me::I know
5. Chat::line
6. Anniversary::red
7. Let you down::gently
8. Shout::out loud
9. Sweatsock::stinky
10. Prayer::hope

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Four Months

This last month has been quite a mixed bag for all of us. Here's a brief overview for you: - Oscar and Felix went back to school. Oscar is at a new school in a mainstream class. By the time this means anything to you he will be in highschool and the stress, anxiety and tears I am shedding over this will either be pretty stock standard for the start of each school year or something we look back on with a shake of the head. Either way, your oldest brother is one special cookie and loves you more profoundly than I suspect he will ever be able to put into words. Lets just say there is never a chance you will be left behind, not fed, left to cry while Oscar walks this earth. Felix is in Year 1. When you enter Kindergarten he will be in Year 6. At this point in time it is highly likely you will go to Oscar's school (our local) and not Felix's, but he is so excited about being in Year 6 and looking after you at school that part of me doesn't want to deny him that chance. I have a few years to worry about that one and well, you know I will. - Daddy's restaurant is getting closer to opening. The builders are in, the logo has been designed, the ads are out to hire staff and Daddy is looking more preoccupied and nervous that I think I've ever seen him. It is very very cute. This place is going to be a second home for us, somewhere we hang out on weekends so you can move from eating the sand to playing in it to freaking me out with your attemps at the (massive) climbing frame and showing us if you have Daddy's patience or Mummy's chronic frustration when having to wait your turn at the flying fox. All while we get to eat Daddy's awesome food. How good will that be? Bloody fantastic. That's what. I don't expect you will ever know (and nor should you) what a momentous time it was when you made this family even stronger and tightly bound than ever before. - And now, as you turn 4 months old, Mummy is going back to work. This is as complicated or as straightforward as it can be, depending on my frame of mind. Basically, we need both of us to work if you guys are going to be fed, clothed, schooled and offered extra-curricular things like swimming lessons, sporting opportunities and musical adventures. On a more complex level, I am a much better Mummy if I'm a working one. This has nothing to do with what you boys are like and how much time I love spending with you. It has everything to do with Mummy being an obsessive compulsive nutbag who needs many pots boiling, many projects underway and many outlets for her energy with minimal time to spend in her own head. Last week I had two whole days in my own head as we trialed daycare and you partied like it was 1999 with 8 other babies and I dropped myself into my all too familiar crevasse of depression, doubt, self loathing and over analysis. I don't know if you boys will ever really understand and I sure hope to HELL and BACK that this illness, with hereditary strains and all, somehow bypasses my beautiful sons so none of you ever feel the shutters closing in your head, heart or soul. If we're not that lucky, you need to know the best way through it is to just.keep.going. and to talk about it. God knows the people reading this are SO bored with it, but however and wherever it comes out, someone will say, "hey, you're not alone" or "here, let me help you" or "just have a good cry" or not say anything, but simply be there and you will come to know the quiet peace and relief that is hope. You are still sleeping like the Little Legend we know you to be. So much so that when you don't I unravel at such speed it brings a new understanding as to why I found life so hard when your brothers were little and I had YEARS of never having more than three (if I was lucky) hours of unbroken sleep a night. We have, as the picture above indicates the necessity of, discovered the joy of a sleeping bag. Please note this conga line of baby lovin' was not staged and how you ended up by the time you chatted to everyone in your cot and fell asleep. There is no longer a sheet or blanket in your cot as well, c.h.ok.i.n.g. h.a.z.a.r.d. central. You seem to love this sleeping bag concept and it has only served to make bedtime more exciting. GOODNESS you will never know how much I love how much you love going to bed and sleeping. The big developments of this month have been your ability to pull your legs under you and get your tummy off the floor. This involves quite an unsightly humping movment, but you have worked out that if you do a few of them together you actually m.o.v.e. and can, on occasion score that toy you've had your eye on that the rest of us didn't even realise was out of reach. You have mastered rolling well and truly. In fact, last week you worked out rolling across the floor, tummy to back to tummy to back to tummy. This is, quite frankly, making me puff up into one of those ridiculously proud parents of "look at what my child can do" but damn it, you can and I'm gonna strut around loud and proud. You might as well get used to it now. You nailed this maneouvre on the floor at daycare, the first day we went. That's right. I said the D word. Because Mummy going back to work means you do NOT get free reign of the house. You seemed to like it - so much so you rolled across the floor either in a sign of acceptance or displaying some rat cunning at getting all the staff to love you even more. You are the youngest in the Centre and let me just say, I think this is a good thing. What they don't have in the LIBRARY of Lamaze toys we have at home, they have in clucking women and non-stop entertainment in little people who sure, have permanently runny noses, but dig you big time. Now, if you'd just take the bottle and stop WASTING all that preciously pumped breastmilk, that would be tops. Look on it as a little piece of Mummy while she activates another part of her brain so she won't obsess about how many of those Lamaze toys are either a) lying on the floor, b) being lied on by the cat, c) need washing or d) not being picked up or washed by anyone else. You did, however, pick up your first cold from this brief introduction to childcare. Seriously, how Chef and I fawned over you was outrageous. We've had Oscar taken to hospital in an ambulance. We've had inter-hospital transfers and multi-hospital hook-ups to discuss the best course of action, we've had mad-dashes with almost severed fingers. You had a head cold with a low grade temperature and a bit of snot and it was as good as if it were meningicoccal. Enjoy it because seeing as you will probably have snot trails from now until you start school, I think we may tire of being sooo caring, attentive and concerned pretty soon. The other development this month has been your ability to screech like a girl. Seriously, it's like you're channeling Nathan Lane in The Birdcage. It kills me every time. You only only use it if we're in the car and you're hungry. I find this just adds to its charm. You are also the He-Man of four months old - I mean, how many babies your age could be bothered expening the energy to pull themselves forward to s.i.t. in their bouncy, as opposed to just lying back and enjoying the ride? And yes, in this photo you are ALL watching TV. So in years to come, when you can't remember what happened ten minutes ago let alone how many middle names you have, you can blame me for letting you watch afternoon kids television at 3.5months of age. But most of all, keep smiling and chuckling at all of us because little man, this is one smitten family.

Comments heard at the school gate

Girl to boy: None of the third graders look like third graders yet, we all still look like we're in Year 2. Boy: yeah. Boy 1: I needed this size 12 shirt to fit in these big broad shoulders. Boy 2: I needed this hat to fit this big head.

With heat, comes sleep

Yesterday was hot. We went and visited Bec, the Prof and the gang. We ate awesome food (think bread, cheese, pate and dips), drank a very retro Rose (which was delicious). And basically hung out. After my week, I think you all know how much I needed this. Home was a quick pasta dinner, which will be posted to Eat Me later today and then, I lay down when I put Jasper to bet. At 7.30. I slept until 2.30am when I woke with a headached and man, it was hot. Drugs, a bottle of water and a walk around back to bed until 5am. I'm still feeling the weight of Oscar and what to do, who to talk to about it etc, but goodness me I feel so.much.better. Thank you, wondrous internet, for your support this week. And thank you Bec for letting us lob in on you and just hang out. Divine.

Did you catch that show on TV last night?

No, no I didn't. Thank you for asking. The reason was, I lay down in Felix's bed to sing him Close Your Eyes (and I'll kiss you, tomorrow I'll miss you....) and suddenly it was dawn, and oscar was asking me to connect (or maybe it was pull apart) some lego for him. Yes, in one fell swoop (and equisitely timed for my return to work as I, in a voice of doom-like mindset, predicted) I have returned to the land of newborn-dom. For the last two nights Jasper has fed three times during the night. The night before those two party-filled nocturnal interludes, he woke at 12, 2 and 4, but I kinda ignored the 12 and 2, which then considering he woke up sick felt no end of guilt over. Combine that with a bad weekend of sleep, the whole emotional angst of trial-daycare and Oscar issues I've subjected you all to and financial woes thrown in as a kick-arse cherry on top, and you're looking at one tired, h.a.g.g.a.r.d. greasy haired crone. (Bec, expect you can't WAIT to see me today now! mwahahahaha). Apparently, at some stage, I removed myself from Felix's bed to the bed in the nursery which I put there for exactly the reasons I've used it this week - if Jasper's sick I can sleep in there, he can sleep with me and nurse when he needs to etc without disturbing Chef or Mum who's bedroom is directly above ours. In case you're wondering it has worked a treat. Anyway, I have no recollection of doing this but believe it was at around 10pm. Then at some time I moved both of us back to our bedroom but it must have been before midnight when I feed him and 3am when I fed him some more (side note to Jasper: I'm right beside you buddy, no need to wake up screaming incase I won't hear you or infact, the emergency dept at Mona Vale Hospital 3ks away wasn't aware you had a snotty nose and low-grade temperature). I hypothetically ask you oh Internet World of Wisdom as to why then, both the older boys would see fit to wake at 5.30am to play a game involving lego and Felix's infinite ability to create and modify rules?

Sometimes, just sometimes you need someone or something to pull you up by the bootstraps

and remind you that the world is still turning, but only just, so just pull yourself together, whack on some of that new oh-so-chic Mac Viva Glam V Lipglass that inadvertently means you're helping fight the AIDS crisis your bought while wallowing in Mope'nGuiltsville the other day and friggin just save the world because. . . WHAT THE?????

(Source: SMH)

Irrespective of perhaps the most unflattering maternity garb I've seen since BrittanyWatch (is that an Aztec print?) and some tres fugly eyewear on The Tom, I am obviously so out of the loop as to the power of Goanna over the world, let alone movie megastars channelling aliens. Further research (ie reading the article in the SMH) explained it all far more clearly and made it actually quite dull. The only highlight being the memorial service for basically, a businessman, is being 'directed' by the director of Crocodile Dundee. Bearing in mind the size of the man, I hope there's no tastless "that's not a knife" kinda jokes.

Today

has been one of those days. Those days where you are glad there is a little age and hindsight under your belt that you don't do or say those things every impulse gland in your body is telling you to do. How emotional I am about going back to work and Jasper going to daycare three days a week has caught me by surprise. Goodness knows why as I think it's pretty bloody obvious to the entire universe I'm a pretty emotional person at the best of times. There are so many reasons for it, but I think the biggest one is that I feel I have finally nailed that mothering, parenting thing with this little guy.That I can read his signals, that I know him so very well is truly the most empowering emotion I've ever experienced. It craps all over the actual birthing 'thing'. But much happened in the years before his arrival which all served to confirm I need to be a working parent (as in a salary-paid working parent as quite frankly what primary carer isn't a working parent??). I stayed at home with the first two, occasionally working on various projects but really being a stay-at-home mum. I don't really feel like covering that old ground as it was a treacherous, exhausting climb at the time and not one I need to rehash for you all to see just how ugly it got. Let's just say there is my suicide tree on Wakehurst Parkway that acts as my almost daily marker as to just how dark my days got in that role. Would it be different this time around? Absolutely. How can I be sure? I just know. But then there is the reality of a fulfilling job I truly love, in an organisation of quite a few opportunities for me down the track. Above all that is the reality of living in Sydney and neither of us being a barrister, futures trader or plastic surgeon. If the boys are to be clothed, fed and indulged in swimming lessons, tennis and soccer, there must be two substantial incomes. Anyway, I know that everyone out there has their opinion about working/staying-at-home and at this point in time I will say thank you for keeping it to yourself. Mind you, the magnitude of today's fall-apart, triggered by the gorgeous Jasper having his first cold after three not-even-full days at daycare still caught me by surprise. There is another issue running its own course as well at the moment, which is also contributing to my raw emotional state. And that is Oscar's schooling. After a very average year last year in a support class and reading lots of literature and talking to many people who work in the area of special needs education and employment, I was determined for him to be in a mainstream setting and offered the same opportunities and experiences of his peers. It is such early days but I am already questioning if it was the right decision. Nothing, I say nothing makes you question your capacity and role as a parent as when you have to make these sorts of decisions on behalf of your child. Special needs or not. Bec is an old hand at this as well. I can almost feel her nodding from here. His teacher said to me this morning that it's going to get a lot harder as the workload picks up. There is a 10 day (t.e.n.) swimming program starting next week and they are - naturally - trying to work out how best to accomodate Oscar and well, make it work. Eugh. I just feel so defensive. I immediately felt like saying to his teacher, "just tell me if it's not working. Don't skirt around it. OH GOD it's a miserable failure isn't it". As if I want it to be. You see, there's a mild special needs support class at the school. Oscar would easily fit in that class and they need to boost its numbers. It would be so easy to simply put Oscar there and be done with it. The class hangs as a cohort so he wouldn't be hanging on his own in the playground (forget KLAs and learning anything, this is my biggest fear. My child, alone, in a sea of kids happily playing with each other) and there'd be no need for meetings, discussions, funding applications, meetings, discussions blah blah blah. I know, it's early days. I know, give it time. But as I fell apart in front of him in the car coming home, telling him how much I loved him and was trying to make the right decisions for him, Oscar fell apart too. (What did I expect from my highly empathetic OggaBoy?) Do you like your new class? No. Is the work really hard? Yes. Have you made any friends? NOOoooo. Both of us wailing as we cruised Pittwater Road. So today was not really a good day, except for dinner which was magic. I'm feeling so anxious about basically every facet of my/our life at the moment and while I can see the road ahead and rationalise each and every issue out, that vice like grip around my head and heart is pretty darn hard to break. So this weeks show and tell was about something close up. I guess you got my day. Up close.

AND

AND Jasper has a cold. Coughing Snot Sneezing A FEVER and his 4 month immunisation was due tomorrow, which now can't be done until he has no cold, which factoring in the start at daycare means NEVER and yes the world is ending. The WORLD IS ENDING.

Because Bec told me to...

What were the three things you wanted to be when you grew up? (not necessarily in this order) 1. Prime Minister 2. A journalist 3. A police officer but above all, outstripping 1 to 3, I wanted to be famous. You can live one day over again from your childhood. What day will it be? It was a weekend. I came out of my bedroom and Mum and Dad were sitting on the floor in the new extension of our house. They were sitting in front of the new big bay windows. Early morning light was flooding around them. It's the only mid-childhood memory I have of them together and it made me feel safe. You have two minutes (and a mover with you if you need heavy lifting help!) to grab 5 things from your home before it morphs into a polka dotted hobglobin and hops away. What will you take? (Food/drink/family/friends excluded!) 1. My two cookbooks 2. All the photos and albums That is all. You have to paint one quote on your kitchen wall. What is it going to be? What do you mean you're not hungry? What is the one thing you want to have accomplished by the end of this year? Weight loss. You are moving to the moon for one year and can only bring one flower with you. What kind will you bring? A Gardenia You just received word that aside from one flower, you can also bring five books with you too! Your choices?... 1. To Kill a Mockingbird 2. The Great Gatsby 3. Choke, Chuck Palahnuik 4. Skinny Legs and All, Tom Robbins 5. It seems fitting to say here that I haven't finished a book in months. I don't even have the impetus to start one. I find this feeling quite peculiar and certainly unnerving. Four places I would rather be right now 1. In Italy anywhere really, but Cinque Terre comes to mind. 2. New York, just because. 3. In a house on a cliff top with the ocean crashing against the shore. 4. In our own home. I tag whoever feels inspired to do the above - let us know you're done in comments.

With hideous commercial contructs to lure more money out of us as if the Christmas debts aren't enough it occurred to me that

in my wallowing of days late, I realised I'd almost missed a rather important milestone. Today, 12 months ago, I did a pregnancy test. Bec was the first one I shared my secret with, that my period was 3 days late. She was all "get your arse to the chemist" and I was all "I will on Thursday when it's pay day" (GOD how LITTLE has really changed). Anyway, I was at uni booking in to start my Masters in Professional Writing (Creative Writing) and thought I should get some lunch. It was when my internal monologue went something like, "but I'm not really that hungry, but should grab something as I won't get time this afternoon and OH GOD I HAVE to have a mango smoothie. Must have smoothie. [heartbeat] Oh shit." And all while walking through skanky Broadway. I ONLY ever crave dairy beverages in the first month of pregnancy. Never ever any other time in.my.life. So I scraped together the pennies and pissed on a stick. To put it delicately. And there he was. Two big bold wehehehe I'm here! blue lines. And sure enough. He is:

Meme again

It was unique when Joke did it, compelling when Badger did it, and so good by Pea that I had to do my own... This is so a work in progress I'm listing it in the sidebar... soon. (I have to go and express now.) Movies you need to watch in order to understand me better You’ve Got Mail Steel Magnolias A Room with a View Grease Footloose Adaptation Napoleon Dynamite I heart Huckabees Mall Rats Love Actually Benny and June Being John Malcovich Big Night Yours, Mine and Ours (1968) The Long, Long Trailer The Mission Home for the Holidays Fargo Little Women With Six You Get Eggroll Please don't eat the daisies The Philadelphia Story On Golden Pond The Girl in the Cafe The Karate Kid TV Programmes you need to watch in order to understand me better HR PuffnStuff Wacky Races Rocky & Bullwinkle I Dream of Jeannie Bewitched The Partridge Family The Flying Nun The Goodies The Good Life To the Manor Born The Ghost and Mrs Muir The Nanny and the Professor I Love Lucy The Cosby Show Family Ties Magnum PI The Office (UK version) Creature Comforts Drop the Dead Donkey The Sullivans Sons and Daughters America's Next Top Supermodel any Ice Skating Seinfeld Arrested Development Singers/bands you need to listen to in order to understand me better Carole King (Tapestry) Joni Mitchell Sally Boyden Anything by: Ben Folds Ben Kweller John Denver Crowded House The Eels Bruce Springsteen Kasey Chambers Tracy Chapman Missy Higgins kdlang Dixie Chicks Greenday Powderfinger Jet Books you need to read in order to understand me better The Magic Far Away Tree, Enid Blyton Pippi Longstocking, Astrid Lindgren The Borrowers, Mary Norton Anne of Green Gables, LM Montgomery Milly Molly Mandy, Joyce Lankester Brisley Nancy Drew, Carolyn Keene Clan of the Cave Bear series, Jean M Auel (but really, only because as a good Christian teenager, this was as close to sex as I was every going to get.) Anything by Chuck Palahnick - but in particular Choke and Survivor Skinny Legs and All, Tom Robbins As I lay dying, William Faulkner Plays/Musicals you need to watch in order to understand me better Away, Michael Gow The Diary of Anne Frank Hamlet The Dracula Spectacular The Mikado Periodicals/Journals/Magazines/Newspapers you need to read in order to understand me better The Sydney Morning Herald Vanity Fair Australian Gourmet Traveller Donna Hay Vogue Entertaining Delicious The Monthly Martha Stewart Living Places you need to visit in order to understand me better Any boutique shoe store David Jones Any bookstore Florence, Italy Morgan's (deli) Livoti's (deli) Simon Johnson's cheeseroom Accoutrement House Wheel & Barrow Restaurants you need to visit to understand me Pazzo, Surry Hills Tabou, Surry Hills Nilgiris, St Leonards Claudes, Woollahra Becasse, CBD Bilsons, CBD Comestibles and libations of which you need to partake in order to understand me better figs cherries scones damper lemon sauce cake apple or peach or rhubarb crumble stewed apples baked dinner - either roast lamb or chicken creamed rice cooked mushrooms Cheese Twisties Cheese Doritos Kettle Chips Fanta Tonic water Limes Violet Crumbles Cosmopolitan cocktails Sparkling Shiraz Gin (Bombay Sapphire) & Tonic Limoncello (Chef's) sour cream goats cheese feta Sicilian green olives

Maths class: 1982 - Quick, pass this note along to Kim...

I've been tagged too! Very, very dedicated Glamorouse watchers (yep, there's that irony again) will have seen this and known that I am not alone in the pathetic untagged stakes, nor am I as cool and mature as Kim in the totally not needing to know or care stakes... Thank you Surfing Free, for letting me re-live all that adolescent joy of inclusion!! What were the three things you wanted to be when you grew up? 1. A jockey (got too tall) 2. A veterinarian 3. A paediatrician You can live one day over again from your childhood. What day will it be? The day my friend Susan (yes, just like in Milly Molly Mandy) and I decided we were going to overcome our fear of galloping our horses downhill and went to a really steep hill on her farm and damn well did it. You have two minutes (and a mover with you if you need heavy lifting help!) to grab 5 things from your home before it morphs into a polka dotted hobglobin and hops away. What will you take? (Food/drink/family/friends excluded!) 1.A small set of bookshelves (I've got a removalist, right?) full of books from my childhood that my kids love and are mostly out of print. 2. Our favourite wedding photo, taken by a photographer friend of ours and irreplaceable 3. A set of gold inlaid tiny dishes, a gift from a Japanese delegation that actually meant something! 4. My little cut glass bowl of old jewellery from my mother and grandmother. 5. My "fuck you first marriage" gift to myself: a gorgeous artisan bowl engraved with a nude woman on a beach and the words, around the rim: "While basking in the winter sun, she would dream of the life of a sex goddess" You have to paint one quote on your kitchen wall. What is it going to be? "Why is your freedom more important than mine?" - attributed to Karen Blixen in the screenplay for Out of Africa. What is the one thing you want to have accomplished by the end of this year? Wangled my way into one day a week OFF work, rather than working from home. You are moving to the moon for one year and can only bring one flower with you. What kind will you bring? I'd like to say Frangipanni but I don;t think the moon gets hot enough, so I'll go for the more versatile and longer blooming Gardenia. You just received word that aside from one flower, you can also bring five books with you too! Your choices?... 1. The Moomintroll series in one volume (yes, this is cheating; I do that) 2. Lord of the Rings, because I always find something new, no matter how many times I read it 3. A Winter's Tale, Mark Helprin, just because 4. The Great Gatsby 5. As many William Gibson novels as could fit in an omnibus edition or, if I get caught cheating like this (see #1) at least Neuromancer. Four places I would rather be right now 1. On a masseur's table 2. Drinking Cape wine and looking up at Table Mountain 3. Wandering through Barcelona 4. Taylor's, Byron Bay. and Kim, most naturally, I tag you! mtc Bec

...and

a postscript to my wallow piece: at one stage, I got so forlorn and bereft, I just went and sat in the car, willing the phone to ring telling me to come back and see my boy. that is all.

Unconscious Mutterings:Glamorouse Meme MkII

Sorry, but my daughter just started the traditional Year 3 recorder class so I am in a musical frame of mind... Unorthodox:: position Skate:: -er boy, she said see you later boy... Hold on:: to your hat Europe:: Africa, Asia, Australia, America, Antarctica... how come it's good enough for the rest of us continents to start with A? Reminder::message Gold::standard Calcium::dairy Rated R:: for violence Saturday night:: is all right, all right, oh yeah Tell:: her about it, tell her everything you feel, let her know your reasons, let her know that you're for rea-ea-ealll (the song playing on the single most humiliating date I ever had with a rugby player) You can play too! Visit LunaNina mtc bec

Unconscious Mutterings

1. Unorthodox::Jew
2. Skate::head
3. Hold on::a sec
4. Europe::grey
5. Reminder::post-it
6. Gold::bracelet
7. Calcium::tablet
8. Rated R::sex
9. Saturday night::Live!
10. Tell::someone

You can play too! Visit LunaNina

mmmumphnpuffshmuznstuffplasch

is really the best way I can express my current state of mind. Monday, Day One of Developing Distinct and Deep Abandonement Complex

• It started as a pretty normal day for us.
• The night preceding confirming "oh yes - we are alive and ain't life grand" with a few lazy hours spent in Emergency.
• The following morning starting late due to said excitement.
• Getting children ready for school, Oscar, who prior to the hospital was actually using his hand and indeed his thumb now rendering it as good as amputated by its vice-like attachement to his body.
• Racing to get Felix dressed and fed in half and hour to go to school with Grandmama as Chef had an early morning meeting and Oscar had speech.
• Oscar at speech - me filling in forms for Jasper that had been set aside for the night before (no point doing earlier as it was all about his 'schedule', THE schedule!) and writing up the day-before dramas in Oscar's comms book.
• Realising the late night, the two nights of being woken on three seperate occasions, combined with the nervous energy of first-day of daycare were really having an impact as I kept writing Oscar's name and Felix's date of birth on Jasper's forms.
• Dropping Oscar at school after speech, stopping at the Mall on the way to city to go to NIB and Medicare so I had some money.
• Jasper crying/screaming from the Burnt Creek Deviation all the way into the city, including a rest-stop on Spit Hill as the Spit Bridge was open.
• Getting to Centre and almost bursting into tears because - OH MY GOD we actually made it here before midday.
• Time at Centre for Kim - reassuring and deeply upsetting all at the same time.
• Time at Centre for Jasper - cool, look at all these kids. Hey! Look at all these women smiling and singing to me. Wehey! It's pretty loud in here but wow, so much to look at!
• Car home - Jasper slept from me putting him in the carseat, home, transferred to bed and slept for further hour and a half.
• Came home to hear both boys crying as I walked in. Made me cry. A lot.

Day Two - The Day of Offical Aimless Wandering City Streets

• Blow dried hair. Hear screaming and realise it is hair crying out in shock after its three month haitus.
• Leave for Centre.
• Turn around and go home to collect bottles, breast milk and breast pump.
• Nail how to handle the screaming in the car in traffic (aaarrrgggghhhhhh) thing and Jasper settles instantly. Sleeps rest of the way.
• Arrive at the Centre at the time I wanted to get there on Day 1.
• I'm hoping tomorrow we will get there when I wanted to today, so next week when I actually have to go into the office I arrive some time before noon.
• Jasper's head-on-a-stick returned and every cooed over him.
• Put long pants on him as we're in the Arctic now kiddo. Freak as 00 pants are so tight on him. Such a bad mother, putting on pants that are too tight.
• I was out of there about 15 minutes after dropping him and did my best not to tear-up in front of the universe of small snot-nosed varmits.
• Call me to let me know he had a couple of sucks on bottle but not really interested, but went to bed instead and settled straight away. (So he should in his new jaunty $70 sleeping bag I bought him because Centre is The ARCTIC.)
• All I could think - at first - was damn, a wasted 200ml of hard expressed milk.
• Then I thought, if I'd been there he would have had a mini-top-up feed then slept. Note to self: HOW CAN WE MAKE THIS WORK. Then thinking - just calm down.
• Wandering aimlessly in shops and malls, looking at idiot commercial junkies buying Valentines Day gifts. Envy girl getting present from Tiffany's from very hunky man. Buy Chef impromptu non-romantic Valentines Day gift. Realise now have no money to buy lunch.
• Feel vice like grip tighten around my head and heart as I calculate our finances over the next month. Excellent! Can't go back to work as can't afford petrol to get there!
• Centre calls - MY BOY - he is awake.
• I return. Has quickest feed in his life. Seems concerned he might miss something and cranes neck to see who is crying.
• SO MUCH crying.
• SO MUCH snot.
• Hideous unkempt children.
• Except G, who I could eat off a spoon. Heart is breaking for K who collapses in a heap on the floor and cries "Mummeeeee, Daddeeeeee, bye byeeeeee" every single time the half door into their room opens or closes - which is OFTEN. Knowing if her parents knew they would be crying floods of tears into their keyboard and trying to work out how they will afford to live in Sydney on only one wage, the one that currently ONLY covers the mortgage payments. Liking very much that N, who is 'having a bad day' is getting constant cuddles and concern from all staff, who call his Mum to let her know he didn't eat any lunch.
• Think: Well, we'll go now. But NO - Centre staff are all - what are his tired signs, yadda yadda yadda, send me out into the unseasonally cool February day once more.
• I wander. Spill food on myself (I found GOLD! coins in the car). Carry newspaper in weird angle to cover it as have no child to blame or cover stain. NO CHILD!
• Jasper sleeps. And sleeps. And sleeps.
• Return.
• Feed.
• Do not feel good as seem to be too many kids to staff. Why is the cook doubling as a carer, even if she is doing a kick-arse job.
• SO MUCH CRYING.
• Kids seem a bit lost-at-sea - this is what I remember from Felix's daycare, tail end of the day, tired fractious kids just lost.
• Heart H.U.R.T.I.N.G.
• Make mental note to try and start early finish early so Jasper doesn't live this. Laugh at self as know this is virtually impossible.
• Am dying inside.
• Get home. Jasper plays with toy whole way.
• Boys very teary. Very tired. Felix collapses in tears every other minute.
• Am seriously feeling like I can feel myself aging.
• Discover, about 10 minutes before 6, that Chef didn't give boys ANY afternoon tea. So Felix has eaten an apple and fruit bar at recess, gone all day, (one of the teary moments was telling me he went to Chess at lunchtime (my child with the logical analytical brain!) and didn't have time to eat his lunch), gone to gym for an hour after school all on an empty stomach. Am wondering WHY? WHY? WHY? Chef didn't take them something in the car as we both know they HAVE to eat something in the car immediately after school, let alone NOTHING after gym.
• Discover washing I asked to be hung out has been but all on about 6 inside lines on two quarters of the line. WHY???? One load, one big washing line - use.the.space.
• Am back there instantly. Back in that land of knowing my day must start at 5 if the washing is to be hung out so it will dry, the children will get a varied and nutritious lunch, and afternoon tea considered.
• I know Jasper will be fine (even if all the research shows he will have higher levels of stress hormones and higher levels of aggression even YEARS after he leaves the daycare setting).
• I know I am a better parent as a working parent.
• I know we have no choice if we are to actually live in Sydney and maybe, one day, own our own house. So we don't have to live with my mother dropping in and demanding - in the nicest possible way - to know the minutae of our life while also offering GREAT! advertising opportunities for Chef's new restaurant (the school and gym newsletters) (DERRRR) (Don't have energy to tell her one of the partners has been mktg director of national companies and knows a bit about that kind of thing).

But I feel raw, resigned and on an emotional knife-edge. And am so very very tired. And haven't even added in the actualy w.o.r.k.i.n.g. part yet.

Forget the lousy t-shirt

I've just spent 4 hours at Mona Vale Hospital and all we got was a lousy bandage: a letter to our GP and a dead syringe I snaffled from his Panadol: The reason for this delightful evening, when the one I had planned involved lying on the lounge wwatching the cricket, going to bed by 9pm (because of two consecutive nights of being woken THREE times by different offspring or relatives) and basically preparing myself for Jasper's first session at daycare tomorrow was obviously not good enough was because: - we spent today with our friends the Doodles because we haven't caught up properly since Christmas and we can go and hang at their house for 8 hours without having to be a show home family - all the boys played soccer as this weekend is prime soccer enrolment time (note the cheerleading uniform on injured child who, when asked if he wanted to play this season said no, he wanted to watch, he wanted to stand on the side and cheer "go waa-waa, go waa-waa" (what he calls Felix)) and Oscar got hit in the hand by the ball - Oscar had a swollen finger which at first I was worried was broken, but because he could move it through the joints and recovered and was using it in play etc I figured it was badly bruised - but naturally, when we got home, within minutes of the boys charging upstairs, Mum was charging down saying - "so he cracked his finger then" and really, if the maternal guilt of discovering days later your child does have a broken bone when you basically told them to get over it isn't bad enough, being proven wrong by your mother is enough to send you to the local sub-standard public hospital. So, four hours, four x-rays and a gagillion "no mores", "no now", "I wa iblok", "I wa iblok now" a very hungry (because by GOD if he needed to have it set I wasn't sleeping at the FRIGGIN hospital with him waiting until he had an empty stomach for them to operate), anxious and tired boy was finally taken home. This is the boy who was actually USING the finger before we went to the hospital but now is so rigid through the entire arm it's like legoman has possessed him. And the bandage, is meant to be on for 4-5 days. MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA. If it lasts until school tomorrow it will be miraculous. This is, afterall, the child who can't stand having a good happy STICKER on his hand, the child to whom a bandaid might as well be a signifier of leprosy. He can hardly WALK with a bandage on his HAND. In other news...: Chef's parents have gone away on another SAD/SKI* tour which means they'll miss Oscar's birthday in two weeks. So they gave him part of his present today - a homemade Batman costume (with batwings and weird psychedelic Bat motif) How cute is this child: how much is my heart hurting tonight? * SAD/SKI = See Australia and Die/Spend Kids Inheritance

A virgin (late) Show and Tell - Lamp

For some time I have been lurking around Blackbird's Show and Tell but now the camera seems to be cooperating about 80% of the time (after being dangled by its pixels over the rubbish bin until it promised to behave) I can have a go at participating. This week Blackbird wants to see a lamp. We have many lamps and I am a big fan of the non-overhead lighting, but at the moment there are no lamps I love enough to share so I'm bending things just a little to go with lanterns. These are cute little tealight lanterns that hang on arched stakes out in the garden. After all our hard work in January we are back to eating outdoors again and these cast a surprising amount of light. mtc Bec

A Sydney Saturday in Summer Sunshine

Sorry to come over all alliterative but today The Prof did one of those things he does when I am being particularly foul - he took the children out all day. It happens from time to time, usually just when I need to be reminded that he is a significantly better person than I am, and always will be. So today I did, well not much really but I did it in peace and summer sunshine, as follows: Smelled my new gardenias... Washed and hung out lots of sheets and quilt covers to soak up the sun ...

Hung out under the orange tree...

Re-oiled the new chair ...

And bought tomatoes and put them in my favourite bowl, then ate them with goat's fetta and herbs from the garden for lunch.

And then they came home, having stayed away just long enough for me to start missing them.

mtc

bec