Glamorouse

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Hmmhahhurrumph

Things I've noticed of late: - I really really REALLY hate anxiety attacks. They suck big time. - The irony of drugs that are meant to make you feel better making you feel way shittier for oh A WHOLE FUCKING MONTH is only kinda amusing for oh, a DAY. Tops. - This morning was the first morning in close to a month I woke up a) not shaking b) not completely nauseous - just slightly and c) not totally a bazillion per cent in the grip of an anxiety attack. I'm yet to view this with any level of excitement/thank CHRIST/insert any other expression conveying a sense of of PEACE. - the moon last week was absolutely remarkable - I'm losing weight and LOVING being thinner, feeling my hip bones and jaw bone again. But the being SO FUCKING HUNGRY is kind of boring. This is the ONLY good part of my meds at this point in time - that they make me feel so much like crap I don't really feel like eating. - We now own two dogs. I am both deeply resentful and absolutely fine with this - I see this as situation as perfectly acceptable proof I am probably bipolar. - WHY when you basically feel like topping yourself does everyone tell you how fabulous you're looking - is there some sort of suicidal glow of radiance? - I know my kids know all is not right in Camelot when they say things like, "mummy, what does overwhelmed mean?" and I reply "just watch me for a few minutes and you'll know what it is". anyway, that's all. I have been seriously thinking of not writing here anymore, I seem to have scared Bec off into a far more genteel of space over at The Ladies Lounge and it just doesn't seem I have anything to offer, but here I am, writing inane shit once more. Maybe the meds are finally starting to work...

Glamorouse

Thursday, June 15, 2006

Mop your way out of an early grave, fellas.

Men should be dying to do the housework I had to laugh... this is just what Surfing Free has been campaigning about over on her blog lately - and now there's a rooly truly academic study to back up her case! mtc Bec

Glamorouse

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

I wrote this the week before last

before I got sick and worse.

My head doesn’t work that well. Sometimes it fires on all cylinders and I’m intelligent, witty, compassionate and productive. Other times it almost feels like its eating itself and I become introverted, paranoid, nervous, anxiety-laden, easily distracted, unmotivated and highly unproductive.

In the novel Miss Smilla’s Feeling For Snow, there is a passage where she retreats into her depression and refers to it as closing the shutters on her house, watching the light slowly shrink to a smaller and smaller point until she is left in total darkness. This is the best description I have found of what happens when my brain decides to turn on itself.

At the moment I am returning to anti-depressants. I find it deeply ironic that the side-effects of these little white pills are heightened feelings of the feelings I’m feeling that are making me a contender to be on them in the first place. It can take two weeks for the side-effects to dissipate. I’m a day off that two weeks and instead of lessening they have heightened in the last three days.

For the past two mornings I’ve been woken by our youngest for his feed. He then goes back to bed and I retreat to mine to lie there at the hands of a massive anxiety attack. Adrenalin pumps through my body as my teeth ache at being clenched for so long and so hard. My heart is racing, and has been for what feels like the last two weeks. I know this isn’t the case but it still feels like it. My neck is so stiff that if I move suddenly a hot hard pain grips my neck and right shoulder. My skin feels uncomfortable. I’m so tired, so very very tired, even if I get a full nights sleep. I simply do not want to get up. I want to shut the door on my life and just make the world go away. The impact this would have on my family, on my boys, makes tears instantly spring to my eyes. I want and need to be near people but I hate being touched. I am craving solitude.

Food and my body become my enemy when I’m like this. I find myself completely repugnant. I’m not really hungry but I eat almost constantly. Then I hate myself even more. This goes on and on. I can eat the most healthy food in the most reasonable of portions, but I will still berate myself for needing to eat it at all. I am the compulsive gambler, the alcoholic, of food. I get to the end of a day when I have eaten properly and try to punch the air in victory, but I’m so very tired I will have the same fight the very next day.

Not many people know just how hard and long this war has raged in my head. I’m scared they will look on me differently. Not give me work because they don’t want to overload me. Not tell me a joke or share a story with me because they think I might take it the wrong way or will not be in the mood for such frivolity. Not come to me for support or advice because they don’t want to stress or burden me even more. (Even though all these things are critical for me as I claw my way back to normal brain-land.) My greatest fear is that they will make allowances for me.

I hate it when my brain decides to eat itself. I try to remember what I’m like when it’s well. When I write well, have great ideas, am proactive in all areas of my life, am happy. But it feels so far away and is so fuzzy around the edges I wonder if I will ever feel that way again. I have a deep undercurrent of fear that asks what if the little white pills won’t work? What if I’m going to have to battle my brain each and every day? And that is the worst part of all.

Glamorouse

Sunday, June 11, 2006

It's raining, it's pouring

here. In so many ways. The quandary of a joint blog is that sometimes one is down and the other is up. And there runs the risk that one is seen to be raining on the parade of the other, and so on and so forth. Bec is in that place at the moment of about to endure the hell that is moving and the grief that is dealing with a bank but all for moving into a delightful home that will give her and the brood more space than they have ever had before. I'm so glad she's opened the Ladies Lounge because quite frankly too much talk of grevillias over geraniums or camellias instead of azaeleas and I would be a definition of narky never quite encapsulated by a human being before. But this week has been very very grim for me. The dog was the straw that broke my back, then I got sick. Then Jasper got sick. And all along there was a sub-plot of Mum upstairs being sick. And still sick. So just when I think I can't take any more, she comes down all "I think I need to go to hospital". And then let the feeling of complete overwhelmation; the absolute "I am barely holding it together for my family, I have no more to give and I just can't carry your load as well" feeling; the subsequent shit-heap of guilt at being so inept, selfish and incapable; the rolling anxiety attacks where I feel like my heart may burst from my chest, that I'm going to vomit (again) and my skin is absolutely on fire take hold. I believe this week is the closest I have come to a complete nervous breakdown. I came close once when Felix was a baby, but you know, such fond memories fade with time. Maybe this is what it is? Maybe I'm in the midst of one? I'm permanently cranky and on edge. I can't get out of bed in the mornings. I lie awake in the middle of the night feeling like my body is on fire as I am gripped by anxiety about nothing, I'm not even lying there worrying about how we won't ever own property, or about Oscar, or about Felix's literacy, or the latest round of bills, or that we will be living with my mother until she draws her last breath and if I can't care for her through gastro how the fuck would I do so if she was dying, I'm just anxieting. I have night sweats. I am crying all the time. I don't want to go to work. At all. I don't want to talk to anyone. Small talk makes my neck itch. I am melancholy, forlorn and have such a pervading sense of hopelessness sometimes it makes it hard to breath. See? Forget raining on Bec's parade, I'm a torrential floodwater warning dousing of relentless rain. I know I am taking measures to come out of it. I know it takes time. I know I need to see my shrink sooner than the 23rd, but after missing a whole week of work last week that is not realistic or feasible. I know, I know, I know. I'm closing comments on this. Just because.

Glamorouse

The Ladies Lounge is Open

The Ladies Lounge. We visited the new house again yesterday and it made all the recent trials and tribulations worthwhile. What trials and tribulations? Well you may ask. But I refuse to live through them all again in print so let me sum it up thus: Bankers are Bastards. Nay, Bankers are Stupid Bastards Who Can't Even Make Sure the Right Papers are Sent to be Signed When You Take Half a Day Off Work Because They Say They are Ready to Finalise EVERYTHING. But we're getting it all fixed so, as I say, I refuse to dwell on the recent myriad acts of bastardry in print. Back to the new house. And a warning, and an invitation. We visited the current owners and they gave us some time alone (in which the Prof madly tape measured and I hastily took photos, because it seemed kinda icky to take photos of someone's wardrobes while they were there) then came back and talked about their renovation and what all the cable points were for and how the air conditioning works and what colour paint was used on the walls - half-strength Dulux Milk Cup makes the perfect cream! - and all the time I kept thinking... How can you live in a house on a big block of land with really close neighbours for SIX years and not plant a single thing in your garden? I'm afraid (here's the warning) I'm going to be quite obsessive about plants and landscaping and gardens and houses generally for quite some time, so I have set up The Ladies Lounge to take all this obsession to its own special place. I want to record all the different ideas I have for the house and garden and keep track of the changes and save up all my plant and outdoor links in one spot, and look back to see how different it all is, one day, from what I had originally planned! I'll still be here, but I'll be there too. Isn't the internet fun? mtc Bec

Glamorouse

Where and oh where can she be?

Hey Kim, hope you got the phone messages - thinking of you and hoping you're improving, even if slowly. Let us know how you are soon, ok? mtc bec

Glamorouse

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

would post but am sick. The sickest I've been since I was sick in the early few weeks of Jasper's pregnancy and was bleeding (and everything ugly that goes with gastro and possible miscarriage). I haven't eaten since Sunday. I've still got a temperature. The vomitous action finally shifted last night from one end to the other, but in a very off-guard oh-my-god kind of way. I know you all know what I'm inferring. Jasper has been screaming fairly constantly for two days. He hasn't slept more than 1hr 4mins in a go since Sunday. I worked out a really good way to really fuck with my mind-if life wasn't doing it already- and that's just to quit taking happy pills cold turkey because a) you're either too sick to remember or b) you take them and OHMYGOD the vomiting. I also worked out a really good way to wean a baby. G.A.S.T.R.O. And yay us for being here a whole year and sharing this kind of joy with everyone who needs to know their life really isn't that bad after all.

Glamorouse

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Happy Birthday Dear Glamorouse...Back to where it all began

Now Kim and I had some plans for this birthday week, honestly we did, but you know what they say: life's what happens while you're busy making plans. So while there's every good chance Kim will still show up here sometime between now and midnight, I can't risk leaving this momentous day uncommemorated (is that a word? help me Suse!). Inspired by the long note I got today from our twins' pre-school, about the 'reflective practice' in which the carers were 'engaging' to 'enhance your child's learning voyage', I thought a little reflection was a nice way to spend this Glam birthday. In black text: the first ever post on this blog; in plum italic text, reflective notes to enhance your blogging voyage... Working from home in Marrickville, only the pilots can hear you scream June 6, 2005 A quick note here to once again thank the lovely Angie for making this blog so darn purty now - it's a long, long way from the original! Today is Monday, as they say on Playschool, and on Monday Mummy works at home. On most of the other days Mummy (that's me, Bec) works in an office. Offices are quiet, controlled and have ergonomic chairs for my enormous bottom. On Mondays there is quiet only during Playschool and naptime; the only control is the power my two youngest children now have to extract any form of snack food from me when I am on the phone (the old point and shout method, an important developmental milestone in most child-rearing texts); and the chair focus shifts to the opposite side of my bottom as first one, then the other, two year old inserts him or herself onto my lap in order to "Hep you wiff your wurk". These days I don't work at home - I finally worked a deal where I finish early on Monday and Tuesday and pick up all three kids at the end of school/pre-school and deal with media calls on the mobile without having to pretend to be productive in my home office... The working from home thing became increasingly impossible when the Gorgeous Boy and Sparkle Twin dropped their afternoon naps. For the first time in my working life (with a history of doing excessive hours in every job I've ever had) I feel like I'm working towards some kind of balance. Oh, but the bottom? still enormous, and the GB and Sparkle still want to be between me and the screen. Good news: they have mastered the letter 'l' in help. In homage to the first blog of the most wonderful Heather Armstrong (http://www.dooce.com/), here are some of the reasons that I should not be allowed to work from home. Can no longer read Ms Armstrong, although I'm sure she's still wonderful at what she does. The last couple of times I tried I was so bedazzled by the jetsetting life that blog fame bought her that I nearly puked with jealousy and I quickly skipped back to real life. Shallow, I'm all about the shallow. It's 12 past 4 in the afternoon and I'm wearing the yoga pants I slept in last night. I've been wearing them during several highly complicated, professional phone calls.I kept them on when I went out for the pre-nap wear-out-the-toddlers walk, too. I may still be in them tomorrow.It's now 16 past 4 and I have lost count of how many times my littlest girl has watched the Hooley Dooleys today. The yoga pants would be on right now except they're 3/4 length and it's colder than a witch's tit here right, with apologies to any warm-breasted witches who may be reading this tonight. Between television, snack food, pre-nap walk, nap, more snack food and more television, the three of us somehow get through this Monday each week.Sometime in the next couple of hours my husband will walk through the door with The Pea Princess, and he will give me that whatdidyoudoallday look. Having worked from home himself with our double contribution to the 21st Century baby boom, he won't actually mean whatdidyoudoallday, but he won't be able to stop the look. It's hardwired. This has changed a little, too. The Prof and I have made a big effort to understand one another better this year past. It's not always been easy as, what with the 21st Century baby boom and all, there's been many a "who are you and what the fuck are doing in my life?" moment. We're coming out of the awful fog of needy infants and the draining physical drudgery they bring and starting to really enjoy these little people we have made. What we had to do then was to find a way to enjoy being the people that parenthood has made us. We're getting there. Mostly. He won't so much walk through the door as negotiate a path. As I sit here, surrounded by the pieces of four separate Pooh Bear jigsaw puzzles, three newspapers, five of the kids' artworks (three of them screwed up into long paintbrush shapes and dipped into the breakfast milk to make the last two), the breakfast milk itself, two jumpers, a scarf, two half-squashed boxes of tissues, and what I've just discovered are the missing pair of Chloe's tights squashed into the printer feeder tray, I kinda wonder whatdidIdoallday, too. Domestic paradise: do you love the smell of old lunch box contents? long for the soft caress of dog hair underfoot? yearn to solve the mystery of the twelve white ankle socks that can't form a single matching pair? Come to Casa GlamorouseBec, we'll make all your dreams come true. And the final reason I should not be allowed to work from home is that at the office the only stuff in the fridge is flat champagne, soy milk and someone's well-intentioned skinny salad dressing. I think I'll save the whole Monday EATING issue for another time - it's too ugly to write down just now. Guess what? The work-from-home eating issue? Still too ugly to share. Shortly, I hope, I will be joined here in Glamorouse by the lovely Kim, who is a few months short of delivering her own One For The Country ( http://www.abc.net.au/7.30/content/2004/s1261874.htm), it's tempting to put a proper hotlink in here, just because I now know how, but for the sake of future internet archeologists I won't tamper with this priceless relic of the past. and who also knows the joys of working both from home and from the lovely quiet office, and who, like me, has tried and failed to keep a solo blog on account of all the evil rage that tends to pour out of Us Women when we send our diaries online.Our theory is that doing a double act will make us less like Virginia Woolf and more like Bridget Jones - dry instead of dour, and only depressed in a cute and peppy sort of way with far less dependence on prescription drugs. mtc Bec And here's hoping she'll be back again too. Even though that original cutesy sign-off of mine about the prescription drugs is sounding a little rank just now. I guess a blog can't fix everything, but it can sure take you to some interesting neighbourhoods while you're waiting for the fix to come in. So, if you made it this far, to post 667 of Glamorouse, I thank you for your persistence, your patience, your good humour and your bad moments, and all the other things that make it fun to hang around, talking about me and mine with you and yours. mtc Bec

Glamorouse

Ok, first the fucking spooky 666 thing...

I'm about to post something meaningful, I promise, but first I have to tell you that when I opened up our blogger dashboard just now, on the 6/6/06, it tells me that Kim and I have posted 666 times since we began - exactly a year ago. For my next trick, I will turn this decapitated chicken back into a vestal virgin, mwah ha hah! mtc Bec

Glamorouse

Friday, June 02, 2006

You know

I'd be talking to you all if I wasn't having a fucking nervous breakdown. Because you see, now there's a dog in the house. The one I won't have to do anything for or with. The one Chef is going to do everything for. (That would be the same Chef who got home tonight at 6 and went out to a staff dinner at 7. The staff dinner I didn't go to becaues someone had to look after the fucking dog.) The one I fucking drove to the other side of Sydney to pick up. With a kid asking me every freaking minute if we were going to get "Coco woof woof" - as opposed to fucking "Coco moo moo", which I suspect would be far fucking easier to look after. The one that tries to eat the baby if I put the baby on the floor, all in gorgeous playful puppy licking nibblingness of course. But you know? I'd like to put my kid down every now and then. The one I have to watch every fucking minute incase it pisses on the floor. Which it has done twice. When I wasn't watching it but trying to be a mother or even just.have.a.fucking.life.for.one.minute. The one I've stood out in the fucking rain with encouraging it to piss but instead it does that puppy playful falling over thing and chews on some other half broken crap toy from the sandpit. The one that has been crying, nay fucking screaming in a mournful hollow wailing kind of way from its bed in the laundry. For about three fucking hours. Which means I can't go in there to put Oscar's sheets in the drier or put another load of washing on. And you all know how much comfort my OCD tendencies get from doing washing. The one that has destroyed any last thread of sanity I was hanging on to because the little white happy pills aren't fucking working. And you know what is making it all worse. That it is so fucking cute - and intelligent (the little shit already gets the idea of fetch, sit and down) I can't help but look after the little fucker: In other news. We (for Felix) completed our first craft project this week: I found out this afternoon that Felix is significantly behind in reading. Worringly so. And I wonder if I am capable of producing children without fucking issues??? And look - tomorrow's Saturday. Oh Goody.

In the novel Miss Smilla’s Feeling For Snow, there is a passage where she retreats into her depression and refers to it as closing the shutters on her house, watching the light slowly shrink to a smaller and smaller point until she is left in total darkness. This is the best description I have found of what happens when my brain decides to turn on itself.

At the moment I am returning to anti-depressants. I find it deeply ironic that the side-effects of these little white pills are heightened feelings of the feelings I’m feeling that are making me a contender to be on them in the first place. It can take two weeks for the side-effects to dissipate. I’m a day off that two weeks and instead of lessening they have heightened in the last three days.

For the past two mornings I’ve been woken by our youngest for his feed. He then goes back to bed and I retreat to mine to lie there at the hands of a massive anxiety attack. Adrenalin pumps through my body as my teeth ache at being clenched for so long and so hard. My heart is racing, and has been for what feels like the last two weeks. I know this isn’t the case but it still feels like it. My neck is so stiff that if I move suddenly a hot hard pain grips my neck and right shoulder. My skin feels uncomfortable. I’m so tired, so very very tired, even if I get a full nights sleep. I simply do not want to get up. I want to shut the door on my life and just make the world go away. The impact this would have on my family, on my boys, makes tears instantly spring to my eyes. I want and need to be near people but I hate being touched. I am craving solitude.

Food and my body become my enemy when I’m like this. I find myself completely repugnant. I’m not really hungry but I eat almost constantly. Then I hate myself even more. This goes on and on. I can eat the most healthy food in the most reasonable of portions, but I will still berate myself for needing to eat it at all. I am the compulsive gambler, the alcoholic, of food. I get to the end of a day when I have eaten properly and try to punch the air in victory, but I’m so very tired I will have the same fight the very next day.

Not many people know just how hard and long this war has raged in my head. I’m scared they will look on me differently. Not give me work because they don’t want to overload me. Not tell me a joke or share a story with me because they think I might take it the wrong way or will not be in the mood for such frivolity. Not come to me for support or advice because they don’t want to stress or burden me even more. (Even though all these things are critical for me as I claw my way back to normal brain-land.) My greatest fear is that they will make allowances for me.

I hate it when my brain decides to eat itself. I try to remember what I’m like when it’s well. When I write well, have great ideas, am proactive in all areas of my life, am happy. But it feels so far away and is so fuzzy around the edges I wonder if I will ever feel that way again. I have a deep undercurrent of fear that asks what if the little white pills won’t work? What if I’m going to have to battle my brain each and every day? And that is the worst part of all.

|W|P|115020051902087529|W|P|I wrote this the week before last|W|P|allconsuming72@gmail.com6/14/2006 02:39:00 am|W|P|Blogger julia|W|P|This is an incredibly painful post. I've been where you're at and it's awful. You have my sympathy and a boatload of respect for being so honest and open about what you're going thru. It sounds so lame to say that I hope things get better, but I am hoping that for you.6/14/2006 05:45:00 am|W|P|Anonymous sueeeus|W|P|I'm glad you posted. I've been thinking of you. I don't know if it helps at all, but I've been to some of those places you describe, especially that self-loathing place that is way too self destructive. I wish I could wave a magic wand and clear your head!! And mine too! I wish I had answers. (I don't.) I tried anti-depressants once but couldn't make it to that magical two-week mark, and I couldn't stand the fog feeling I had when I was taking them. I just couldn't deal.

You are brave, you are strong, and stronger than you know, and you have so much love and light for your family and loved ones. I'm wishing light upon you and in you, so that those shutters can open wide!6/14/2006 08:38:00 am|W|P|Blogger Surfing Free|W|P|Oh, Kim it's great to see that you are posting again. It sounds awful and I can't tell you how brave I think you are to be battling through it. Hang in there because when the sun comes out again you'll know it was worth it. Good luck :)6/14/2006 09:10:00 am|W|P|Blogger MsCellania|W|P|Thanks for posting this, Kim. I am hoping that you find great relief after the 2-weeks of bigger hell. Are you feeling ANY better?

Again, all I can offer are soft hugs and to let you know that I always visit here hoping you have posted.6/14/2006 09:19:00 am|W|P|Blogger Sarah Louise|W|P|Sending you many hugs air post!6/15/2006 04:43:00 am|W|P|Blogger Joke|W|P|Hugs and prayers from the opposite corner of the planet.

Be well, get well, stay well...

-J.6/16/2006 06:17:00 am|W|P|Blogger Suburban Turmoil|W|P|Oh Kim, I wish I could help you somehow, even if only to come over and take care of the boys for a while.

I hope things get better for you soon!6/17/2006 10:02:00 am|W|P|Blogger Suse|W|P|Honey I don't know what to say except YOU WILL GET THROUGH THIS, I know you will. And in the meantime, we are all here with you, thinking of you, praying for you if that's our thing, willing you and blessing you.6/19/2006 12:22:00 pm|W|P|Anonymous Darcie|W|P|This is the first time I've ever read your blog and I can identify so well with parts of your post. I sometimes feel that no one can identify with how I feel.

I have so much admiration for you and I appreciate your honesty more than you will ever know.

Hugs, Darcie6/21/2006 07:04:00 am|W|P|Blogger Yummy London Mummy|W|P|Bless you Kim, for your honesty and bravery. I can't tell you anything that other people have probably told you a million times but stay strong and stay determined, and the brain that doesn't eat itself will win. Good luck.12/05/2008 07:49:00 pm|W|P|Blogger John|W|P|Online Viagra resource containing quality information on Erectile Dysfunction, Impotence, Viagra News, Viagra Usage, Viagra Forum etc to help you understand the most effective treatment available for Erectile Dysfunction(Impotence)http://www.viagracare.com6/11/2006 06:55:00 pm|W|P|kim at allconsuming|W|P|here. In so many ways. The quandary of a joint blog is that sometimes one is down and the other is up. And there runs the risk that one is seen to be raining on the parade of the other, and so on and so forth. Bec is in that place at the moment of about to endure the hell that is moving and the grief that is dealing with a bank but all for moving into a delightful home that will give her and the brood more space than they have ever had before. I'm so glad she's opened the Ladies Lounge because quite frankly too much talk of grevillias over geraniums or camellias instead of azaeleas and I would be a definition of narky never quite encapsulated by a human being before. But this week has been very very grim for me. The dog was the straw that broke my back, then I got sick. Then Jasper got sick. And all along there was a sub-plot of Mum upstairs being sick. And still sick. So just when I think I can't take any more, she comes down all "I think I need to go to hospital". And then let the feeling of complete overwhelmation; the absolute "I am barely holding it together for my family, I have no more to give and I just can't carry your load as well" feeling; the subsequent shit-heap of guilt at being so inept, selfish and incapable; the rolling anxiety attacks where I feel like my heart may burst from my chest, that I'm going to vomit (again) and my skin is absolutely on fire take hold. I believe this week is the closest I have come to a complete nervous breakdown. I came close once when Felix was a baby, but you know, such fond memories fade with time. Maybe this is what it is? Maybe I'm in the midst of one? I'm permanently cranky and on edge. I can't get out of bed in the mornings. I lie awake in the middle of the night feeling like my body is on fire as I am gripped by anxiety about nothing, I'm not even lying there worrying about how we won't ever own property, or about Oscar, or about Felix's literacy, or the latest round of bills, or that we will be living with my mother until she draws her last breath and if I can't care for her through gastro how the fuck would I do so if she was dying, I'm just anxieting. I have night sweats. I am crying all the time. I don't want to go to work. At all. I don't want to talk to anyone. Small talk makes my neck itch. I am melancholy, forlorn and have such a pervading sense of hopelessness sometimes it makes it hard to breath. See? Forget raining on Bec's parade, I'm a torrential floodwater warning dousing of relentless rain. I know I am taking measures to come out of it. I know it takes time. I know I need to see my shrink sooner than the 23rd, but after missing a whole week of work last week that is not realistic or feasible. I know, I know, I know. I'm closing comments on this. Just because.|W|P|115001762909172389|W|P|It's raining, it's pouring|W|P|allconsuming72@gmail.com6/11/2006 12:17:00 pm|W|P|Bec|W|P|The Ladies Lounge. We visited the new house again yesterday and it made all the recent trials and tribulations worthwhile. What trials and tribulations? Well you may ask. But I refuse to live through them all again in print so let me sum it up thus: Bankers are Bastards. Nay, Bankers are Stupid Bastards Who Can't Even Make Sure the Right Papers are Sent to be Signed When You Take Half a Day Off Work Because They Say They are Ready to Finalise EVERYTHING. But we're getting it all fixed so, as I say, I refuse to dwell on the recent myriad acts of bastardry in print. Back to the new house. And a warning, and an invitation. We visited the current owners and they gave us some time alone (in which the Prof madly tape measured and I hastily took photos, because it seemed kinda icky to take photos of someone's wardrobes while they were there) then came back and talked about their renovation and what all the cable points were for and how the air conditioning works and what colour paint was used on the walls - half-strength Dulux Milk Cup makes the perfect cream! - and all the time I kept thinking... How can you live in a house on a big block of land with really close neighbours for SIX years and not plant a single thing in your garden? I'm afraid (here's the warning) I'm going to be quite obsessive about plants and landscaping and gardens and houses generally for quite some time, so I have set up The Ladies Lounge to take all this obsession to its own special place. I want to record all the different ideas I have for the house and garden and keep track of the changes and save up all my plant and outdoor links in one spot, and look back to see how different it all is, one day, from what I had originally planned! I'll still be here, but I'll be there too. Isn't the internet fun? mtc Bec|W|P|114999660003384501|W|P|The Ladies Lounge is Open|W|P|ladies_lounge@optusnet.com.au6/11/2006 03:35:00 pm|W|P|Blogger Badger|W|P|I'm telling you, blogs are like potato chips. Or crisps, or whatever you call them down there. You can't have just one.6/11/2006 09:28:00 pm|W|P|Blogger Kim|W|P|It's so civilised over there. Just lovely.6/11/2006 10:15:00 pm|W|P|Blogger My float|W|P|Stupid bankers indeed.

On the subject of garden, perhaps it's just as well the owners left it a blank canvas, because you'll be able to claim credit for everything you do in it. And may it bring you much joy!6/13/2006 11:19:00 am|W|P|Blogger Surfing Free|W|P|Oooh, I'm looking forward to sharing my garden obsession as well. When our garden design comes back (another five weeks) I'll be able to obsess about actual plants :)
BTW- our neighbours are also doing their garden but they just paid for the garden design and are planning on doing the work themselves. They have a big garden and it cost $650 to get it measured and a design and plant list drawn up. That's a good option if you want to do the work yourself. As for us, we are too lazy and would rather pay someone :)6/24/2006 08:23:00 pm|W|P|Anonymous Old Baz|W|P|Well people, Bec has come up with another brillant idea....she has a large EMPTY yard to play in for the first time since she left home.I look forward to finding out how she does the "Tardis" thing (more things than space for).I'm actually just enjoying being alive, but watching my daughter is an added bonus.Thanks for all the love Bec.Old Baz.6/11/2006 12:16:00 pm|W|P|Bec|W|P|Hey Kim, hope you got the phone messages - thinking of you and hoping you're improving, even if slowly. Let us know how you are soon, ok? mtc bec|W|P|114999225316386173|W|P|Where and oh where can she be?|W|P|ladies_lounge@optusnet.com.au6/07/2006 08:56:00 am|W|P|kim at allconsuming|W|P|would post but am sick. The sickest I've been since I was sick in the early few weeks of Jasper's pregnancy and was bleeding (and everything ugly that goes with gastro and possible miscarriage). I haven't eaten since Sunday. I've still got a temperature. The vomitous action finally shifted last night from one end to the other, but in a very off-guard oh-my-god kind of way. I know you all know what I'm inferring. Jasper has been screaming fairly constantly for two days. He hasn't slept more than 1hr 4mins in a go since Sunday. I worked out a really good way to really fuck with my mind-if life wasn't doing it already- and that's just to quit taking happy pills cold turkey because a) you're either too sick to remember or b) you take them and OHMYGOD the vomiting. I also worked out a really good way to wean a baby. G.A.S.T.R.O. And yay us for being here a whole year and sharing this kind of joy with everyone who needs to know their life really isn't that bad after all. |W|P|114963490467597802|W|P||W|P|allconsuming72@gmail.com6/07/2006 01:42:00 pm|W|P|Blogger Badger|W|P|Well. That sucks.6/07/2006 01:45:00 pm|W|P|Anonymous sueeeus|W|P|I hope you feel better soon. SOON!6/07/2006 02:23:00 pm|W|P|Blogger MsCellania|W|P|JaySus, that is terrible! I had that hideous both-ends violently erupting the day we got Ryan. I truly wanted to be Shot. I begged dh to put me out of my misery. I had never felt such pain in my life. Plus, I wasn't bonding with out new baby! Oh, I know your misery! But the missing your drugs part; oh, that's not good. Sorry for you all around. You have got to catch a break just any day, Kim!

Hope your little one is 100% very soon, too. And that NOBODY else gets it or gets it again!6/07/2006 08:37:00 pm|W|P|Blogger blackbird|W|P|ACK!
feel better soonest!6/07/2006 10:26:00 pm|W|P|Blogger Bec of the Ladies Lounge|W|P|Hope you're better soon, bloss.6/07/2006 11:07:00 pm|W|P|Blogger Suse|W|P|Oh God, all this and a dog too.

Sending you big smooshy hugs darlin'.

(I never say darlin').6/08/2006 03:33:00 am|W|P|Blogger jess|W|P|Yuck. Hope you're feeling better soon.

And congrats to both of you on the blogiversary.6/08/2006 03:35:00 pm|W|P|Blogger Surfing Free|W|P|Yucky - I hope you feel better pronto!6/10/2006 04:48:00 pm|W|P|Blogger mar|W|P|OMG, get well. Soon.6/06/2006 09:32:00 pm|W|P|Bec|W|P|Now Kim and I had some plans for this birthday week, honestly we did, but you know what they say: life's what happens while you're busy making plans. So while there's every good chance Kim will still show up here sometime between now and midnight, I can't risk leaving this momentous day uncommemorated (is that a word? help me Suse!). Inspired by the long note I got today from our twins' pre-school, about the 'reflective practice' in which the carers were 'engaging' to 'enhance your child's learning voyage', I thought a little reflection was a nice way to spend this Glam birthday. In black text: the first ever post on this blog; in plum italic text, reflective notes to enhance your blogging voyage... Working from home in Marrickville, only the pilots can hear you scream June 6, 2005 A quick note here to once again thank the lovely Angie for making this blog so darn purty now - it's a long, long way from the original! Today is Monday, as they say on Playschool, and on Monday Mummy works at home. On most of the other days Mummy (that's me, Bec) works in an office. Offices are quiet, controlled and have ergonomic chairs for my enormous bottom. On Mondays there is quiet only during Playschool and naptime; the only control is the power my two youngest children now have to extract any form of snack food from me when I am on the phone (the old point and shout method, an important developmental milestone in most child-rearing texts); and the chair focus shifts to the opposite side of my bottom as first one, then the other, two year old inserts him or herself onto my lap in order to "Hep you wiff your wurk". These days I don't work at home - I finally worked a deal where I finish early on Monday and Tuesday and pick up all three kids at the end of school/pre-school and deal with media calls on the mobile without having to pretend to be productive in my home office... The working from home thing became increasingly impossible when the Gorgeous Boy and Sparkle Twin dropped their afternoon naps. For the first time in my working life (with a history of doing excessive hours in every job I've ever had) I feel like I'm working towards some kind of balance. Oh, but the bottom? still enormous, and the GB and Sparkle still want to be between me and the screen. Good news: they have mastered the letter 'l' in help. In homage to the first blog of the most wonderful Heather Armstrong (http://www.dooce.com/), here are some of the reasons that I should not be allowed to work from home. Can no longer read Ms Armstrong, although I'm sure she's still wonderful at what she does. The last couple of times I tried I was so bedazzled by the jetsetting life that blog fame bought her that I nearly puked with jealousy and I quickly skipped back to real life. Shallow, I'm all about the shallow. It's 12 past 4 in the afternoon and I'm wearing the yoga pants I slept in last night. I've been wearing them during several highly complicated, professional phone calls.I kept them on when I went out for the pre-nap wear-out-the-toddlers walk, too. I may still be in them tomorrow.It's now 16 past 4 and I have lost count of how many times my littlest girl has watched the Hooley Dooleys today. The yoga pants would be on right now except they're 3/4 length and it's colder than a witch's tit here right, with apologies to any warm-breasted witches who may be reading this tonight. Between television, snack food, pre-nap walk, nap, more snack food and more television, the three of us somehow get through this Monday each week.Sometime in the next couple of hours my husband will walk through the door with The Pea Princess, and he will give me that whatdidyoudoallday look. Having worked from home himself with our double contribution to the 21st Century baby boom, he won't actually mean whatdidyoudoallday, but he won't be able to stop the look. It's hardwired. This has changed a little, too. The Prof and I have made a big effort to understand one another better this year past. It's not always been easy as, what with the 21st Century baby boom and all, there's been many a "who are you and what the fuck are doing in my life?" moment. We're coming out of the awful fog of needy infants and the draining physical drudgery they bring and starting to really enjoy these little people we have made. What we had to do then was to find a way to enjoy being the people that parenthood has made us. We're getting there. Mostly. He won't so much walk through the door as negotiate a path. As I sit here, surrounded by the pieces of four separate Pooh Bear jigsaw puzzles, three newspapers, five of the kids' artworks (three of them screwed up into long paintbrush shapes and dipped into the breakfast milk to make the last two), the breakfast milk itself, two jumpers, a scarf, two half-squashed boxes of tissues, and what I've just discovered are the missing pair of Chloe's tights squashed into the printer feeder tray, I kinda wonder whatdidIdoallday, too. Domestic paradise: do you love the smell of old lunch box contents? long for the soft caress of dog hair underfoot? yearn to solve the mystery of the twelve white ankle socks that can't form a single matching pair? Come to Casa GlamorouseBec, we'll make all your dreams come true. And the final reason I should not be allowed to work from home is that at the office the only stuff in the fridge is flat champagne, soy milk and someone's well-intentioned skinny salad dressing. I think I'll save the whole Monday EATING issue for another time - it's too ugly to write down just now. Guess what? The work-from-home eating issue? Still too ugly to share. Shortly, I hope, I will be joined here in Glamorouse by the lovely Kim, who is a few months short of delivering her own One For The Country ( http://www.abc.net.au/7.30/content/2004/s1261874.htm), it's tempting to put a proper hotlink in here, just because I now know how, but for the sake of future internet archeologists I won't tamper with this priceless relic of the past. and who also knows the joys of working both from home and from the lovely quiet office, and who, like me, has tried and failed to keep a solo blog on account of all the evil rage that tends to pour out of Us Women when we send our diaries online.Our theory is that doing a double act will make us less like Virginia Woolf and more like Bridget Jones - dry instead of dour, and only depressed in a cute and peppy sort of way with far less dependence on prescription drugs. mtc Bec And here's hoping she'll be back again too. Even though that original cutesy sign-off of mine about the prescription drugs is sounding a little rank just now. I guess a blog can't fix everything, but it can sure take you to some interesting neighbourhoods while you're waiting for the fix to come in. So, if you made it this far, to post 667 of Glamorouse, I thank you for your persistence, your patience, your good humour and your bad moments, and all the other things that make it fun to hang around, talking about me and mine with you and yours. mtc Bec|W|P|114959538965060595|W|P|Happy Birthday Dear Glamorouse...Back to where it all began|W|P|ladies_lounge@optusnet.com.au6/06/2006 11:27:00 pm|W|P|Blogger Lazy cow|W|P|Happy Blogoversary! Well done for telling it like it truly is. I hope things only get better for the two of you.6/07/2006 08:58:00 am|W|P|Blogger Surfing Free|W|P|Happy blogoversary to you as well!! I'm not sure when I first started .. doesn't seem like long ago though. I'm so glad I've been here to read your funny, touching, and inspirational words :)

(I can't read Dooce either - I think she's disappeared up her own bum quite frankly.)6/07/2006 09:15:00 am|W|P|Blogger My float|W|P|What a difference a year makes. Or not! Good for you getting a better balance...although I suspect you're probably doing just as much work as not more in an effort to work from home on mondays and tuesdays.6/07/2006 10:56:00 am|W|P|Anonymous Angie|W|P|Happy Blogiversary! I am so glad that you are still liking your template. That makes me smile alot! Things do come a long way in a year.6/07/2006 11:01:00 pm|W|P|Blogger Suse|W|P|'course it's a word.6/07/2006 11:01:00 pm|W|P|Blogger Suse|W|P|Um, I mean HAPPY BIRTHDAY GLAMOROUSE!6/06/2006 09:27:00 pm|W|P|Bec|W|P|I'm about to post something meaningful, I promise, but first I have to tell you that when I opened up our blogger dashboard just now, on the 6/6/06, it tells me that Kim and I have posted 666 times since we began - exactly a year ago. For my next trick, I will turn this decapitated chicken back into a vestal virgin, mwah ha hah! mtc Bec|W|P|114959345358546115|W|P|Ok, first the fucking spooky 666 thing...|W|P|ladies_lounge@optusnet.com.au6/06/2006 10:50:00 pm|W|P|Blogger Lazy cow|W|P|Yeah, I was rapt when my 666 profile views finally chanaged to 686 yesterday.6/07/2006 01:44:00 pm|W|P|Anonymous sueeeus|W|P|How totally kewwwwwwwl, mannnnn. Like, that prob'ly means something way deeeeeep.

Okay, not funny, but wow, that's quite the coincidence, is it not?6/02/2006 09:38:00 pm|W|P|kim at allconsuming|W|P|I'd be talking to you all if I wasn't having a fucking nervous breakdown. Because you see, now there's a dog in the house. The one I won't have to do anything for or with. The one Chef is going to do everything for. (That would be the same Chef who got home tonight at 6 and went out to a staff dinner at 7. The staff dinner I didn't go to becaues someone had to look after the fucking dog.) The one I fucking drove to the other side of Sydney to pick up. With a kid asking me every freaking minute if we were going to get "Coco woof woof" - as opposed to fucking "Coco moo moo", which I suspect would be far fucking easier to look after. The one that tries to eat the baby if I put the baby on the floor, all in gorgeous playful puppy licking nibblingness of course. But you know? I'd like to put my kid down every now and then. The one I have to watch every fucking minute incase it pisses on the floor. Which it has done twice. When I wasn't watching it but trying to be a mother or even just.have.a.fucking.life.for.one.minute. The one I've stood out in the fucking rain with encouraging it to piss but instead it does that puppy playful falling over thing and chews on some other half broken crap toy from the sandpit. The one that has been crying, nay fucking screaming in a mournful hollow wailing kind of way from its bed in the laundry. For about three fucking hours. Which means I can't go in there to put Oscar's sheets in the drier or put another load of washing on. And you all know how much comfort my OCD tendencies get from doing washing. The one that has destroyed any last thread of sanity I was hanging on to because the little white happy pills aren't fucking working. And you know what is making it all worse. That it is so fucking cute - and intelligent (the little shit already gets the idea of fetch, sit and down) I can't help but look after the little fucker: In other news. We (for Felix) completed our first craft project this week: I found out this afternoon that Felix is significantly behind in reading. Worringly so. And I wonder if I am capable of producing children without fucking issues??? And look - tomorrow's Saturday. Oh Goody. |W|P|114924963423572279|W|P|You know|W|P|allconsuming72@gmail.com6/02/2006 11:00:00 pm|W|P|Anonymous Anonymous|W|P|Hi,
I Found Absolutely FREE PlayBoy & PentHouse:
http://www.playmates-girls.com
http://www.oxpe.net
If I find something else I'll inform you.
Best Regards, Yuriy6/02/2006 11:44:00 pm|W|P|Blogger daysgoby|W|P|Oh but look, Kim, free Playboy!

Sure to brighten up your day...

Saturday with the dog! If Chef going to be home?

He's cute but he looks like trouble. (the puppy, not Chef.)

Great project! Go Felix!6/03/2006 12:44:00 am|W|P|Blogger MsCellania|W|P|Is Chef HIRING a dog sitter? You know, for the times he's unable to take care of HIS dog?

A neighbor's husband and kids got 2 new terrier pups - 5 mos old each. Yep; SHE has 2 new dogs. She tends them all day long. She is cleaning up the poop. The children are walking the dogs. For maybe 5 minutes. I try hard not to laugh when she says GOSH! This is such alot of work and nobody is doing it but me. Yep.

Thanks for reminding me why my husband and children DON'T have another dog.

And about Felix and his reading? Kids learn to read at all different stages of development. I had a friend who lost months of sleep, agonizing about her son not reading like everyone else. The teachers insuated that she needed to spend hours a day working on him with this. Instead of cooking, cleaning, paying bills and sleeping, I guess. Well, he started reading one week (approaching 7 years of age) and now he's unstoppable. I loaned her our Leapfrog CD's about letter sounds and early reading. I do not know if it helped. What helped was finding something he wanted to read - stories about Lego Knights, I think. Maybe let Felix pick some very early readers.

And look how talented Felix is! Lovely crocodile!6/03/2006 12:47:00 am|W|P|Blogger MsCellania|W|P|Just looked at the dog's photo again. He is so cute!6/03/2006 03:47:00 am|W|P|Anonymous Anonymous|W|P|I'm afraid you are barking up the wrong tree with me (heh heh) -
I hate dogs.6/03/2006 09:29:00 am|W|P|Blogger Badger|W|P|Thank GOD we just found out the boy is allergic to dogs (we already knew the girl was). I am so off the hook now.

Er, sucks for YOU, though.6/03/2006 11:04:00 am|W|P|Blogger Suse|W|P|Er, that was thirteen fucks/fuckings/fuckers. And one freaking. I think you've set some kind of record.

Can you take the little white pills two at a time?6/03/2006 04:51:00 pm|W|P|Blogger Kim|W|P|Suse - I doubled my dose last night.

Vickee - the dog is very cute and today has done more wees (and poos) outside than in.

Days - wow, free Playboy - life just gets better hey!6/03/2006 10:48:00 pm|W|P|Blogger Bec of the Ladies Lounge|W|P|I just want to know if the same Anonymous who brought us Playboy joy came back to share that he/she hates dogs? And with bad puns, what's more?!6/04/2006 09:28:00 am|W|P|Blogger Kim|W|P|Me too Bec - but interestingly, the first anonymous actually signed off wiht a name. And a promise to "inform" me if he finds any other "Absolutely FREE" porn.

Promises promises6/04/2006 08:48:00 pm|W|P|Blogger Suse|W|P|Oh, that Anonymous. S/he sure gets around. Makes promises to us all. Never keeps em. Such a tart.

(Reminds me of those ads for K-Tel records ... yeah I am old ... where the last song was ALWAYS "and many more!")6/04/2006 09:53:00 pm|W|P|Blogger blackbird|W|P|Oh NO!
Twas me who ended up anonymous!
Don't know how!!

HATE DOGS!
Don't especially mind Playboy though.6/05/2006 05:52:00 am|W|P|Blogger MsCellania|W|P|Kim, that dog is downright SMOOCHABLE. And I only ever kiss my own dogs. I am a dog person, yes indeed. And, er, did you check with the doc first or just double on your own. I passed out doing that once. But that's me; "One is good? Oh! Two must be better!"

bb - YOU hate dogs?! You have a dog! An old, fat dog, I do believe. Oh dear.

Suse - I remember those K-tel record ads! But I am older than dirt.6/05/2006 09:08:00 am|W|P|Blogger Surfing Free|W|P|That is a fine looking crocodile :)

Dogs! I have a love/hate relationship with ours. The good thing is that Miss E is now old enough to actually want to be with him and they can sit for hours together in the sun just talking and being together. It's lovely .. and frees up my time for a bit ;) So it will get better!!6/05/2006 04:00:00 pm|W|P|Anonymous sueeeus|W|P|Oh.Dear. What a time you've had. The alligator is great, though!6/06/2006 08:40:00 pm|W|P|Anonymous Tasmiya|W|P|I'm delurking to say I agree with vickee about Felix and his reading. Hopefully it isn't a big deal and he will simply learn when he is ready.

The pup is adorable! I can't imagine taking care of a puppy as well as the kids...... Which is why I'm a cat person :)6/16/2009 05:12:00 pm|W|P|Blogger Hail|W|P|Viagra has been clinically shown to improve erectile function even in men who had diabetes or prostate surgery. The pill contains this component that helps increase blood flow to the penis and may help men with ED get and keep an erection satisfactory for sexual activity.7/08/2009 05:00:00 pm|W|P|Blogger Sahara Thompson|W|P|Propecia is a medication used for the treatment of prostate cancer and pattern baldness in men. It is the main ingredient in two drugs – Proscar for prostate cancer and Propecia for pattern baldness.-->