Sunday, 26 June 2011

It's all good.


So. Vodka.

No, really I don't have a drinking issue. Unless the fact that I get reaaaaaally silly off just one (or two, now) vodka's and then POST STUFF is an issue. In fact, you can tell when I've been drinking cos I post about it. So Freaking sad. And yet happy. Cos I'm not contradictory at all. My Hubby NEVER uses that word to describe me. He does say I am "consistently inconsistent", however. :-D

He's really cute.

And really far away.

And I bless the internet and mobile phones. I remember the first time he went away for ten days. We had been together about three years. And they (defined as the company he worked for) sent him to Tasmania. He was soooooo excited. He bought a throw-away camera and took photos. I'll get them processed one day. Did I mention it is our 20th anniversary of the day we met this August?

So. I cried for two days. I wasn't working then. I had just finished Uni.

So I had the luxury to sit there and cry. Then, I got drunk. On Brandivino and coke, cos we were on a very strict budget and Brandivino was like $4. Then I felt ashamed, cos I drank brandivino. Meh. Coke, however, was on our budget. Priorities.

I slept a lot. It was like an instant depression, though I didn't know that at the time. I spent entire days in the bath. Water makes me feel better.

I did no housework. I have no recollection of what I ate. I lived for his phone calls. Which were far apart, due to previously mentioned budget.

When he came home, there was mould growing in the kitchen and I was a pathetic mess. Must have been a lovely homecoming for him. :-/

So, this is why I bless mobile phones and the internet. When Hubby goes away I get pretty pictures. Like this one.



With the comment "they said it would be cold".

I get phone calls every day, when he is in range.

I get emails, of jokes his mates have told him. Of their reaction to the jokes I sent him to tell them. Which are usually "rather off".

And I'm okay.
I can cope.
I have a Princess, of course, to keep me supplied with cuddles and occupied with 11 yr old activities. Like the flu. With secondary infections.

I have friends. I had friends before, but they had all moved overseas, or were busy having exciting careers, cos that's what you do after finishing Uni, unless, like me, you got married and started saving. *and failed at every single job interview, but we won't go there* Now my friends are here.

So. Hubby can go away and not only will there be no tears, but the house is a little bit cleaner than before he left. :-)

And I have done some art to show him. And he missed seeing Madam Princess with spots. And we had chicken noodle soup EVERY night, cos it was all she could eat, but I didn't have to cook him something more substantial.

Is all good. And I might... just have one more vodka. While I watch Spencer Tracey and Katherine Hepburn in " Desk set". With the Diva sitting on my shoulder and purring.

Cos it's all good.

Thursday, 23 June 2011

Shooting nerf guns at Virii

I is tooo tireded to be thinking about words and stuffness.

Princess has fever. Overprotective Mama worries and is sleeping in a chair next to her. And waking every 15 minutes just in case.

Diva cat is getting twitchy at the lack of attention.

Tuxedo Boy is loving giving us lots of warm, purry sympathy and playing hot water bottle for the daughter.

The black cat is depressed and indulging in comfort eating until his girl is back to her best. At least he isn't howling in her room and has adapted to sleeping in the lounge.

Nurse on call 1300 60 60 24 - I cannot say enough good things about this service. I have used it many times and they have always been supportive, helpful and calming.

*insert decent sleep here*

The Nurse on call figured out what was causing the dramatic (Do Princess's have any other kind?) pain and that it wasn't emergency room/ambulance requiring. Which is good, as our little Drama Queen was lying on the cold tiles, crying that she "didn't know how she'd get to the car", let alone sit in it for the drive.

I will say that my extremely expressive child will try anything she is told that will help her with minimal fuss, so this reaction broke my heart, as it indicated how much pain she was in. Grrrrrrrrr @ virus! Go away Nastys!

Madam Princess just finished an apple. And is pain free. Has normal skin tone.
Trickey is home. Vegging on the couch with his adored Princess. Looking forward to a weekend of debauchery with the boys. *sniggers*
And I can relax.

Look at them over my laptop screen, Trickey and his girly Mini-Me. with the same mannerisms and looks. These are some of my favourite moments in life, to see the two people I love most, together, happy and being a little bit silly as they watch cartoons together. And intensely debate some of the plot lines. ;-) Cos that's how my family are.

Life is good again.

Saturday, 18 June 2011

Positive reinforcement.

This year, my Princess is taking responsibility for making her own lunches. I get a little gleeful thrill every morning that I gently query, "How is your lunch going, Sweetie?" and get back the quite pleased with herself reply of, "All made and packed, Mama."

I may never get sick of that. My grown-up Princess may still receive calls in the morning, asking "How is your lunch going, Sweetie?" and she'll reply, "All good, Mama and so excited about my Art gallery showing opening tonight/new job starting today/what do you mean lunch, I've got a newborn and I think I ate some week old stale biscuits for brekky but I can't remember, gotta go the baby just woke up..."
She'll be an adult and I'll still be calling her for that little Mama thrill of "my baby can make her own lunch!".

Then I'll pop over to play with the baby so she can shower, eat and all those things that go by the wayside in the first year of new Mamahood.

One aspect of organising lunches is ensuring the correct foods are available to her each morning. Since she is in control, I have noticed that she varies her lunch, just a little, every day. Sometimes a vegemite sandwich, somtimes rice cakes and cheese. Gourmet cheese, mind you, my Princess prefers a fancy cheese.



Ambrosia - gorgeous name.


Sometimes there are strawberries and grapes, other days, she has carrot and snow pea shoots. There are almost always Milo bars and very occasionally a natural flavour snake lolly will find it's way in. Once in a blue moon, she likes a peeled mushroom.


So nice, from this position of "Mama to a child who eats well", to look back to the days when she wouldn't eat unless it was a jam sandwich. Or sausages and chips. Or strained zuchinni. And no food was entering that cute little pouty mouth after 3 pm, even if I drove her around to find a sausage sizzle that was still open.


When she was a baby Princess, I used to go over the road and feed my neighbour's baby, just to experience the sense of achievement that one gets when a baby opens their mouth as the "aeroplane spoon" flies towards them with yummy mushy apple or pumpkin on it. To feel what it is like when a baby eats that spoonful of nutrition down and opens their mouth for more. To see a child demanding you feed them faster. It helped me cope when my precious darling would grin at me, tightly close her mouth, wait until the "aeroplane" was flying at the right point and then tap it away with her tiny little hand, giggling if it made a really good mess on her high chair.


*shakes head and returns to current story* Sorry, I diverged.


To ensure the food our Princess requires is available to her each morning, we bought a lovely fridge magnet with a tear off note pad. She writes down any food she fancies for lunch on there, keeps me up to date with her breakfast cereal status and I make sure the system works by actually getting off my tush and going to the store each time something appears on the list.


The system had a few hiccups at first, such as not being able to read her handwriting or spelling, (all fixed now thanks to her Tutors of amazingnesss!) or me being slack and not going shopping. Lately, it seems to be running very smoothly. This morning, when I looked to see if anything new had been listed and to write down "popcorn", I found this lovely little touch that made me giggle and feel all warm and Mama Happy.



Did you see it?
Not the bit where I have to work on her spelling of bread and please. But the bit in blue, right next to it.
The tick.
The positive affirmation of a job well done.
My daughter gave me a tick.
Ticks are very important to the Princess. Crosses can make her cry and tick's make her soul fly.
She gave me a tick.

Feeling pretty good right now. :-)



Friday, 17 June 2011

Furbabies

I've got three lovely geriatric cats,
Healthy and still going right along,
Fur so soft and glossy that it entices pats,
Whiskers that are straight and oh so long.

Our furbabies, they have grown up with us,
they moved in before we said I Do,
as kittens, they caused all sorts of fuss,
all teeth and claws, a little softness too.

A tiny tigeress of a tabby cat,
who regally sat upon my upturned palm,
so serene, the next moment, a brat,
with sharp kitten teeth sunk into my arm.

The little Diva deigned to sleep on my chest,
her purr of contentment was such a joy,
an hour it took to decide it was time to rest,
spent chasing toes and then looking coy.

Our Tuxedo Man, the silliest of all felines,
Yet somehow a beau of elegance and style,
He sits still, all poise and gracefulness,
then bounds gazelle-like over many miles.

As a kitten he was a gleeful wanderer,
until in one backyard, was found a big doggie,
The neighbour called in those nice firemen,
to assist the fluffed out cat down from the tree.

Our black Burmese, he is not the social type,
cross eyed, bit awkward and so demanding,
He would snuggle under my neck at night,
then rip out my hair at Five am lest I sleep in.

Affection for him has not come so easily,
until our daughter's nightmares he did calm,
Sleeping under her pillow, so squishily
He keeps her dreams from causing any harm.

My furbabies have grown through their adulthood,
Into the restful twilight of their days,
the Diva still hunts some for gifts and food,
then rests up in the sun for several days.

Tuxedo man is forever climbing up those trees,
then crying for Mama to help him down,
I laugh, talk encouragingly, watch him suceed,
thinking of days when he'd leap off in one bound.

Our Burmese howler is sitting here next to me,
By the heater and soaking every ray of sun,
A "Heat Sink" is what he aspires to be,
A summer cat waiting out the colder months.

These babies, these furballs, are so part of me,
yet I know soon that horrid day will come,
I ignore it and enjoy these sleepy, furry beasts,
To whom I am their beloved adopted Mum.

Monday, 13 June 2011

Teenage suicide - Don't do it

Don't do it. As the song from Heather's said.

So, it's not me. (though thank you for thinking I could be a teenager ;-p)
It's not my daughter. (On my knees with thankfulness)

But it is a family member. And that scares the living daylights out of me.

I was reading GoodGoogs blog today, about losing a pet and how she is grieving. I was thinking about our recent loss, as well as our pets. Grief and Loss suck big time, but it is still better to have been through the wonderful love that caused the grief to be so painful.

This little girl has barely begun to live. She has a lot of difficulties to overcome and she's a lot like I was at her age. This could be where my feelings of (obviously) misplaced confidence in her recovery from Anorexia came from, knowing that in 20 years or so, she's gunna figure it out and things will be all good. Her Mum was feeling more confident too. Now we know there is SO much more to be done and I don't have the foggiest what to do. Psychology should be compulsory studies for everyone!

Our family is so distant from each other now and I think this is part of it. The community of caring is stretched out over phone lines, the internet and long drives. People who could share the burdens for worried parents are not part of their everyday lives. Trusted family members who could help the young ones see things from different perspectives don't know the background of their high schools, their friend groups. People who could be someone to talk too that are less emotionally entwined aren't easily accessible to a teen - what teen's going to call someone who is nearly forty to have a natter? But when I am there, we always have some time together. To have someone who only wants the best for you, but isn't emotionally involved to the point where hearing something bad can send them into panic. (Well, that's me and my Marmie, anyway, other family members aren't as prone to panic) We are NOT easily accessible anymore. It's not the case that a young person is just waiting for the next Sunday visit to catch her cousin/aunt/uncle for a conversation.

I remember the first time my niece visited us , at about age 5. She had some really unladylike habits and I didn't even try to hide my disgust. (Nice Aunty, aren't I?) My pretty little niece, with her long, wavy blond hair, her smile that would win over strangers, was quite surprised at my reaction. Not because her Mum and Dad condoned this icky behaviour at all, they were always telling her it was unpleasant and suggesting a more pleasant alternative. It was because she simply didn't believe that what they were saying was important. Didn't believe that it was upsetting to anyone but them. It was quite amazing, as by the end of the week, she had ceased these indelicate behaviours and found new reactions.

My sister and I now discuss ahead of time what she feels are the "priority" behaviour issues she would love to have me react too. It's a good system. I hope when my niece becomes a teenager, she will feel comfortable talking to me about things she may not want to mention to her Mum just yet.

Imagine if we were all living close enough to see each other every week. Or even fortnight. Imagine the effect this could have on all our young people, seeing all the different responses, different opinions and different ideas, all coming from people whom they know love them and are trustworthy. I had this growing up. My daughter has one Uncle whom we see often and I have worked hard to find other adults whom she can rely on, like her tutors, circus friends and some close friends.

There will be another family funeral this year, from that nasty cancer. I don't want it to become three.

So I resolve - To call said family member at least once a week.
To replace her phone next time it dies. ;-)
To hope. Really hard.

And then put on Ke$ha really loud and dance with my Princess till we are smiling again.


Tuesday, 7 June 2011

Waffle. Not the smothered in maple syrup kind.

Were you really shy as a child, so terrified of dealing with social situations that you once stood at the door of your best friend's house, whose family you had known all your life and were too nervous to knock? (Apparently, her Mum watched me agonise and lift my hand, only to let it drop again, through the kitchen window terraline curtains)

Or a total extrovert, always singing ("Oh, Mickey, you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind, Hey Mickey!) and dancing (yes, on the lunch tables at primary school, I had to perfect my podium dancing somehow), trying to attract attention?

Did you prefer to walk quietly around the school, sometimes with one close friend, sometimes alone because even asking that friend to walk with you was too overwhelming and you didn't feel worthy of monopolising their time?

Or would you happily bounce into a large group and join in whatever game was going, being a social asset and having a ball?

Would you relate more to memories of only communicating with your first grade 6 boyfriend through each other's friends, even though you'd happily played with him for the last 7 years of primary school, because NOW it was scarier and more important that you not say something silly and scare him off. (And he broke up with you a week later, cos you stopped talking to him)

Or would you then, after that social catastrophe, single out the most outrageous guy in grade 6 and have a wildly temperamental relationship with him, breaking up, screaming at each other with abandon, then making up and going to see a movie together at the local school hall. (where we held hands, nervously waiting for half time to go out the "bushes" where everyone makes out and we got sprung by one of the ushers)

Or how about both? Could you relate to both? Could you co-exist as both personalities in one body, mind and soul and never know which one was going to take the lead in any given situation?

The confident me is SO much more fun. I thought I had her mostly on, these days, buffered by all the lovely friends I have, and the way you really cannot be self-concious at Circus training. When you gotta put your hand there on someone else, you gotta put your hand THERE or people are going to fall over and get hurt. So you just do. And is all good. Cos they don't take it personally. Just anti-gravitically. (Is SO a word. :-p Now.)

I wish I could figure out how to switch her on by choice. ;-)

Today's waffle triggered by a "words with friends" request from a (now grown up) boy I went to High School with, that I was nearly too shy to answer. I'm 39, a mother, still a freak and he was never mean to me at High School. But he's a Booooooooooooy! Geesh @ me.


Sunday, 5 June 2011

Recycle until it hurts!


When Trickey and I were enduring our enforced three year engagement, and for several years afterwards, we were what you would call "financially poor". We weren't in debt. An expenditure of $4 for a dress from an opshop was a point of discussion, however.

Our friends who were out nightclubbing, shopping, travelling the world and Australia and partying didn't envy us.

Our very inexpensive entertainment was of walking to the local pub with me singing very bad karoke while my cousin did some really excellent Elvis vocalising. Hanging with my fave cousins and friends, that was excellent fun for us. They are some of my best memories, ones I really enjoy revisiting. Right up until Trickey admitted last month to having a recording. I am a Baaaaaaaaaaad singer.

We were saving for a house deposit.

Back when Banks didn't lend to you without impeccable references and proof of saving and a 10 percent deposit.

So, we were what you would call poor. My sister, however, was one step below that, as she and her Hubby had the joy of being perpetual students for at least another ten years after we had all finished Uni. They were happy, so is all good. Their first Church helped them out a lot and they helped their Church. They recieved a lot of second hand goods, to help them by.

Which is awesome.

Sometimes, these goods would double up. Then, my sister would ask us if we needed any of the extras. As a result, 20 years on, my kitchen is still graced by the presence of twice recycled utensils.

A few weeks ago, I was using the garlic press, the rolling pin and the spatula gained from charity and thinking that I could probably afford to buy new ones now, more attractive ones, ones that didn't remind me of our previous need for charity. That these thoughts were instigated when I strained my thumb muscle using the ancient garlic press, I do admit. Fortunately, I am adequate in writing with either hand, thought my signature has suffered. ;-)



Today, at Princess' maths tutoring, her lovely tutor and I were discussing how she tries to obtain most items secondhand, as part of her recycling beliefs. She op shops for clothes and always manages to look very stylish. Each piece of crockery in the kitchen has it's own history and the furniture is so well loved that I always feel totally welcome to curl up in one of the chairs, with a book, and hopefully her flatmate's gorgeous and exceedingly sociable cat.

To make me feel useful rather than indulgent, snuggling with devine feline the keeps that most affectionately demanding of kitties from sitting on the Maths work book and demanding the pair of them pay attention to her, instead of volume and area. Cos my Princess totally WILL give this GlamourPuss more attention than she will the history of Archimedes discovering how volume can be measured by displacement.


I bet he wasn't really that hot though. Maybe more like this.

On the drive home, I pondered the discussion we had had about recycling and realised there was no need to replace most of these items, as they were perfectly functional. They aren't on display. They flatten pastry, flip eggs and do what they were designed to do.

Except that rotten Garlic press. You only get to hurt me once, kitchen appliance!!

Friday, 3 June 2011

Parent's music is way cooler now I'm the parent.


This week, I introduced my Princess to the glory that is INXS. I announced to her of this great privilege and childhood rite that she was about to undergo and with appreciation and anticipation, she queried of me, "what's an INXS, Mama?".
Do you remember the first time you heard the bands name? Did you giggle as you figured out it's meaning, or like me, did you try to say Inkxs?


How impatiently I would wait for each new video to be played on Countdown and later Rage, to admire, with abject adoration and some intimidated hesitancy, the marvel that was Micheal Hutchence? I mean the man could even pull off a 80's hair.

I began her softly, gently, considerately with "Suicide Blonde" at full volume.

For the first listen through, I didn't even sing along. Just to be nice. And allow her the joy of hearing their music without my wailing cacophony destroying the intricate blending of sax, guitar and vocals.

I may have raved about how awesome this song is (for each track on X).
I may have rambled on about my memories of dancing to Suicide Blonde in 1990 at the friend's house to whom the record I am playing actually belongs too - beware anyone who is thinking of lending me ANYTHING.
I may even have explained to her that I sing Suicide Blonde every time the peroxide and I go for another attempt.

Poor Princess.

She is used to it. Used to her eccentric Mama.

She loves the one on one time and the dancing. Is all good.

She learnt that houses with floor boards are not suitable for energetic dancing at the same time as playing one of Mama's precious record collection. (I am seriously OCD about Vinyl - Hubby is still not allowed to touch them as he does NOT have the intense enough level of Vinyl respect)

I thought this a very good lesson in house structure. Plus we tested the floor boards for the place that disrupts the gentle balance between diamond stylus and immacuate vinyl. The corner by the window won out as the least interactive with the record player, with the bonus of all the neighbours being able to get a giggle from our silliness.


She liked the drums, (the drums, the drums!) The pretty guitar twangs. The awesomeness of the Sax. My Princess was singing along by the end of the second replay.

I have her permission to play INXS at any time. It will be on for the sleepover tonight. I may even try out "Kick" on them. Though, "Need you tonight" is almost aural seduction. Maybe "The Swing" instead?



One important note though...
My Princess is 11. She has noticed the other girls noticing boys. She thinks this is a bit gross. (YES!)

If I ever show her the album covers, will the images of one of Australia's sexiest, wickedest and possibly most indulgently decadent men send her straight into puberty? Does he still hold that power, deceased and a generation on?




Or will her adored David Tennant continue to hold her heartstrings safely, with his wild and yet gentlemanly style?


Wednesday, 1 June 2011

So, I've had a vodka


And it only takes one.

Today, I'd like to talk about housework.

I did lots today. I also finished four cards and FORGOT to photograph them for the Just add ink challenge before I gave them to the people I had made them for.

Therefore, housework rots your brain.

So I thought I'll just go and make a different one! I had three fussy cut daisy's left. Half an hour later, I realised I have no energy left, because I stayed up all day doing housework.

Therefore, housework dimishes creativity.

I didn't lie down all day, with all these deadlines (like having the house clean enough for Princess's tutor to enter and make the cards) and so my back is a throbbing, painful mess.

Therefore, housework has a negative effect upon health.

My Tabby was so lonely that she went across the road to play with the neighbour's Tabby.
Therefore, housework makes my Diva Cat socialise. Not quite sure if this is bad or not. Maybe it's realising how posessive I am of her likewise possessiveness of my time. She's on my shoulder now, purring and being spoilt. I like that she has a friend, though. She detests all our boy cats.

But most importantly...
My Trickey is incredibly shy. When it comes to "marital duties" I am supposed to guess if he is in the mood. After 20 years together, this is getting tedious so I simply up front ask if he is inclined tonight and stand there with fingers crossed and hopes high for a yes. Tonight, when he said yes, I was disappointed! I can't be bothered and have no interest tonight.

Therefore, housework is bad for your sex drive. So I'm a gunna quit. ;-)