Wednesday, 29 February 2012

Behave - they might be watching

It's funny, knowing people other than Jayne and Sam read this blog.
Like, now I want to whinge that my girly time of the months* is HURTING me and I want to scream, just a (lot) little.

But I prolly shouldn't, cos you are all out there now. 
And is good to get the girly time, cos it means the ovarian cyst will calm down for a week or two.  And that it isn't so big that things are not working.  Licorice tea and fibre.  This is how I defeat the evil cystula that is trying to take over my reproductive system, one ovary at a time.

I have to hoop at class tonight.  Last rehearsal before Knox Fest. 
Performing with tears of agony running down my face is an acceptable look, yes?

*months because my cycle is moody and dependent upon the whims of the cyst. 2 months is fairly normal, with the second month being painful and swollen and horrid.

More about the bus

The bus hurts.  My back hurts.  I want to sleep all the time.  Stop the bus I want to get off. 

My daughter cannot figure out where her school bus stop is.

I am onto my 7th "system for learning to recognise your bus stop".

I yelled at her today.  About making excuses for not noticing the bus stop.  I've told hubby off all month for doing this, but I had one special reason why it was okay for me and not for him. 

Princess and I had discussed that Daddy is a fricken genius and sometimes has troubles understanding that she is not.  How a socially awkward couple with a 142 and 156 IQ and a serious science/engineering bent, got a daughter with kindness to animals and people in every atom of her body, artistic tendencies to the point where she probably WILL be able to have a career as a potter, with an IQ of 99 is somewhat unclear and probably has something to do with fairies.

Being told that it takes her 4-6 repetitions before we can even start to expect a concept to sink into her brain was such a liberating piece of info.  I had often assumed I was presenting it to her in a way that didn't click with her amazing little artist's mind.  So I learned about the different styles of learning.  Doing, touching, observing and verbal explanations.  We tried them all and did find she prefers a visual/audio style of learning.  Great!

Not enough. But knowing she has to do this so many times before the "path walked becomes a pathway" has meant I don't get upset.  I just hug her and start again.  And we did this with the bus, Princess and I.  No yelling.  Much discussion of good ways to help her learn. 

We got off the bus early and walked, so she could have time to recognise the landmarks.  We read street names out to each other.  We verbally described landmarks to each other.  We set her phone to go off the town before her school, in case she fell asleep... again.  We've played with maps.  I've driven, slowly, so she could pretend I was the bus driver.  We've gone past the bus stop, so she knows what to do if she misses it in future.  I let her decide how long she thinks it would take her to learn.  She said... by the end of Feb.

You know.  Today.  

Which is why I yelled.  I don't think she is taking it seriously.  She has tried, but not hard enough for me to feel that she is understanding that SHE WILL BE RESPONSIBLE FOR HER OWN SAFETY.

Not me. 

Her.

Alone.

Daydreaming.  On the Bus. 

Mama not coping.

I'm scared.  Physically, I can't keep going with her.  The school is awesome.  She is happy.  I am delighted about that but the PAIN!

*sighs* So, here is the next strategy.  Since she knocked back my plan to have electrodes stuck into her behind that are triggered to give her an electric shock when the bus passes the stop before hers.  I thought it most efficient.  *Shrugs*

She takes notes all the time, now.  She has a little book I bought her to take notes in, as we have accepted she is forgetful.  It is the fourth such book and the first to be used.  What made the difference?  It's a visual art diary, not a notebook.  She can draw her reminders.  It seems to be working.  So, there will be drawings done over the next week, of the landmarks for her bus stop. 

Maybe.  It will help.

Maybe, we will just have to move house till she finishes Year 12.

Sunday, 26 February 2012

Loves me, loves me not

To eat the Magnum Gold ice cream that is sitting, so cold and delicious in the freezer, belonging to no one and tempting me, or not to?  That is today's question.

 
Just imagining the icy delight of the smooth, golden honeycomb/chocolate outer layer, quickly gaining a frosty sheen in this humid weather, licking it for that first sensual delight of taste.  The coldness of the chocolate means you barely get a hint of the taste sensation to come, but there is that hint... and that amazing smell.

However, I am allergic to dairy and I know that eating this will cause me tummy bloating, pain, tiredness, swelling and other unpleasant reactions.  Nice.

Thinking about how fun the first bite is, the frozen choc-honeycomb coating cracking is like the wonderful fun I had wearing my big sister's gumboots so I could jump into an ice covered puddle to hear and feel the ice crackle and slip downwards under my feet.

Some of my teeth are sensitive to cold, this bit can be, well, painful.  Masochism.

Then that fresh smell, crisp and clean like rainfall on cherry tree leaves, of vanilla and iced milk.  The first bite, icy cold and creamy, sugary deliciousness bursting over my taste buds.  Savour this one.

Sugar.  Too much sugar at once and I sometimes get that weird little jolt from my ovarian cyst as something horrid goes on inside me and I know by nightfall, it will be causing more pain, irritating my bladder, sending that ache down my leg and lethergy through my system.  Misery.

Licking the soft, melting part of the ice cream, flavour in full swing, feeling that so satisfying contentment of this single moment.  Memories of childhood, unpacking groceries, Mum pulling out the ice cream and opening it, saying mock-sadly to my sister and I, "Oh dear, the edges are melted, if we put it back in they will go icy....spoons, girls!) and we would scoop up the deliciously gooey ice cream till only the well frozen centre was left and giggle.

Sugar gives me hives.  Irritating.

Coolness.  34 degree day, sun heating the closed blinds till they are to hot to touch.  The chill of the ice cream would rush through my veins, providing blissful relief.

I am 25 kgs overweight, one Magnum is 40 minutes on the elliptical trainer and I have to fit into the "ugly stepsister costume" for our hoops act next weekend.  Guilt.


Today.  The ice cream stays in the fridge.  But it will be there tomorrow.  Who knows which way the battle will go then?

What is your temptation?  Food, books, tv, shoes.  (OMG. shoes)  How do your battles go?

I still really want that ice cream. *sighs*
 


Friday, 24 February 2012

TMI? (Fresh horses brigade linky)

Eden left two little words at the end of her latest Fresh Horses Brigade post.


Edenland's Fresh Horses Brigade


Five letters each.

And they make me scared.

"Sorry? Spill"

I don't want to face all those things again. 

Oppression, repression, suppression!

This is the life motto I exist by.  Feel an inappropriate emotion?  Stomp on it and make it stay down.  Start thinking about those I miss?  Squish it back into the cupboards in my mind and go on merrily.  Perhaps I want to say something, words that are not of the common opinion, are against another's ideals and beliefs, maybe I want to express an idea that is strong inside me but will cause people to yell and question and dig deeper into my beliefs, to challenge them, to require me to defend them.  To make me have to think when just getting through the day takes all my brain power.  I tell that feeling to just go and have a nap somewhere nice for a few years, come back when I am feeling stronger.

Don't wanna face it all.

Eden, you are sooo strong.


I am sorry I am lazy.  I am sorry I don't control my diet well enough to be at peak fitness.
I am sorry I don't believe in God and sorry you worry that I will go to hell. Sorry that I didn't give you life, babies 1 through 3, babies 5 through 9.  Sorry that I never made you a sibling, Princess.

Sorry I didn't give you the huge family you needed and I wanted.  Sorry I am no good at having people visit at our home.  Sorry I'm not the strong and energetic career woman you were expecting.

I am sorry that I didn't agree to babysit your three very enthusiastic boys so you could go to the wake, sorry I was so scared of the responsibility, sorry I didn't tell you that and try.   Sorry that I was too scared to visit you in hospital until right before you died.    Sorry when I'm not understanding what you need when you visit and I sit there vaguely, hoping I'll be able to pick up why you are there, what you want from me, sorry when I don't figure it out until the next day.  Sorry I can't tell you how much I love you. 

Sorry.  Sorry for every time I've yelled at you when it's just been because I was tired or in pain or mad at myself.  Sorry for not understanding sometimes you need to be sad that your Mum died, sorry I always tried to cheer you up.  Sorry I hate some of your friends.  Sorry I didn't stand up for what I wanted, so many times.

Sorry I drive badly.  Sorry for being such a wuss.

Sorry I took the course at Uni that I did.  Sorry I never got a real job.  Sorry I hate camping.

Sorry I didn't pull you out of that class when you were being bullied.  Sorry I didn't stand up for you and your band when the other girls showered me with attention to use me as a weapon against you.  Sorry I left you with the mess.

That'll do.  

Not everything is there.  But.  Enough.



If you want to join in, or read other's "Sorrys", click over to Edenland and see who has linked up.


Captcha

Captcha hurts my head.  Sometimes it takes more concentration than I have to give, just to figure it out.

So, my question is...
Do I have captcha enabled on this blog?
If so, how do I turn it off?

Thanks, in advance!

Thursday, 23 February 2012

TGIF... oh wait, it's still only Thurs

So exhausted.
Drained.  Running on the energy I can pull from the air.
So wishing it was already Sat afternoon and I could sleep the sleep of the "I got it all done in time".

I have been reading blogs this morning, intending to have a ball leaving comments and found myself not able to focus well enough to interpret all your lovely words.  Re-reading sentences and knowing all the words, but not able to comprehend, to use all the years of schooling to have become an image in my mind that I can understand.

Completely off track, when I read, I get pictures, like a movie in my head.  So does Trickey.  I assumed this was how things worked.  I have since met two authors who have told me they know the words and get no picture, no visualisation from the words.  They get the information.  Mind blowing! 
This is one of the author's, Stacey McCleary she is fascinating to listen to, you can hear her developing books in her conversation, she takes an idea and slowly it grows and becomes funnier and the image outlines become clearer. 

So why am I exhausted?
Other than my general ill health, which IS improving again, it is because the world is so exciting and I agree to do to many things because they sound fun or beneficial.

Taking the bus to school, or following it is the most exhausting thing.  It seems so simple but I end up at home limp and sad and on the phone cancelling visits to a friend I miss dearly so I can lie on the couch and contemplate my navel until I feel human enough to... get back into the car and go pick her up.

I went out in the sun.  Not for long and only tiny sunburn, but it was enough to send me into a semi coma.  It was for a good cause, though, and part of the other reason for my exhaustion.  That is...

Knox Fest!!!
Our first Yah Yah performance and we have designed most of it ourselves!  I have had one circus lady over to learn and practice the staff routine and visited another in her sunny backyard and we have perfected our staff routine and it is SO MUCH FUN!  The concept and costumes are well under way, but have to be finished by Sat morning for our final run through and to get approval from the coach to do the act (terrifying!) but I still have a lot of sewing to do - and tiny bits of time!  (what's that you say?  I should get off the computer and sew?  I was doing that before I got online... oh you're right, I'll finish this up and get going.)

Last night's hoop class, in the heat, with our amazing new teacher who is so clever and so brilliant at explaining how to improve my hooping technique was so exhausting.  But SO MUCH FUN!

I so love circus.

I will go sew and get the girl to school and go to medical appointments and visit my friend whom I cancelled on yesterday, take some hand sewing, go pick up the girl, get her friend, go to D&D, come home and sew some more. 

I feel much happier and more energised after writing this!  Like rubbing it in my face how much fun I am having and to ignore the exhaustion and pain.  Oy, you writing at the top of this post, It Gets Better!

Sunday, 19 February 2012

"Taken!" alternate title "Dredging up excuses to go to Spotlight"

We watched "Taken" last night.  

Liam, you are my hero.



The Princess will never go overseas without an approved chaperone, self defense classes and a mask to hide her prettiness.  I may even teach her to walk with a hunch and definitely look into stage makeup, you know, the kind where they put scars and warts.  Stuff it, I'll just get her to learn full on zombie makeup.

The Princess has agreed to most of this. 

She also had nightmares from the movie and slept in our bed.  At 12, this is getting a bit squishy, so I made my way to her extremely comfy bed and snuggled down.  To wake up at 5 am in agony, my neck so stiff that ninja's could do their "karate chop that breaks bricks" on it and have their hands bounce back in pain.

That is one kick-ass awful pillow she's been using.



Saturday, 18 February 2012

Whose words tempt me back to their blogs?

Whose words tempt me back to their blogs?
Day after day, week after week, I return to read, to keep following their journey.
To explore new ideas with them.
Sometimes, just because they feel like kindred spirits?

Eden's Meme for the Fresh Horses Brigade today is a thought provoking one.  Why do I love the blogs I love?


So, a personal fave is Our Great Southern Land.


This one is easy.  M'Lady Jayne is a real life friend and I've loved the way she expresses herself for years now.  The blog is a mix of history as interpreted by M'Lady,  humour and personal updates.   Good for a giggle and for an hour of indulgant educational link clicking.

Why was Magneto Bold Too's the first blog I stalked my way through the archive in a manner usually reserved for favourite webcomics?



Magneto Bold Too
Was it because she is straight to the point and expresses herself openly.
Is it because when I needed to swear and refused to do so, I could go read her words and let them say those naughty, naughty words for me.  Could all her talk of shoes have been a factor?
Kelley is an amazing woman, her blog is full of laughter, tears and really amusing links to very, very special craft items.

Surprisingly, considering I am writing this as part of Eden's Fresh Horses Brigade...

Edenland's Fresh Horses Brigade 

Edenland is another favourite blog.  Eden is painfully honest and it's nice to have someone say the things that my brain skirts around nervously.  You are awesome, Eden, a woman to look to for inspiration and regardless of what you do with dye, you have gorgeous hair.   Weird is the funnest way to be.
There are so many more blogs that are part of my preferred reading schedule...  
Erratic Mummy (fun with a retro groove),  
Martyrhood (so funny, so real, so miss her blogging)
Madam Bipolar  (getting the word out there about bipolar and depression).

Annnnnnd... while they don't post very often, and most of that happens in September, this is another favourite blog!  Melbourne Juggling Convention  and here, for the gallery of past MJC's.
 So, onward to check out your posts and maybe find some new and fascinating people!



 
 

Thursday, 16 February 2012

The wheels on the bus (need new shock absorbers)

Trickey tried to have a conversation with me this morning.   I was so incoherent that he told me he'd drive Princess to the bus (and follow her bus to school - this must be freaking all the bus drivers out this week) because now he understands what I mean by "Not being awake yet". (only took twenty years!)

For someone who gets up at 5 am every morning, he has taken a long time to comprehend my morning zombiness.  I would have thought he went through it until the first coffee of the day as well.  Of course... no one tries to debate conspiracy theories with HIM at 5 am.  We are all sensibly asleep.

This week, my tiny and overprotected Princess has been catching the bus without me on it.

I drive behind the bus (not a stalker) (really) so she can get off at any point, should she feel the need, and to pick her up in case she doesn't get the stop right.  Learning the stops without pressure and panic (for Mama and Daughter!) is the point behind this overprotectiveness.
Seems to be working very well.

Except I could barely breathe from the energy it was taking to control the anxiety attack while following her the first time.

I am not very familiar with the bus system here, with what risks are involved for lovely young ladies travelling without their Mama.  This is the other reason I follow.
Should something happen I haven't prepared her for, she has an "expected reaction" of "get off the bus and Mama will pick you up and we will figure something out".  This was proposed by some friends as an alternative to "scream and panic". 
I won't be able to do this for too long (oh my aching back), but even a short while gives us a chance to find out if there are everyday dramas waiting to happen on the bus.

I had intended to go with her on the bus for the first month.  Lovely chance to understand the bus system, explore the new area, go for some walks after she had entered the school grounds, give myself some time to adapt to having a high schooler.
Thwarted!!  By poor shock absorbers!  The bus bounces along like it's suspension system is a made of coffee feed babies in Jolly Jumpers.  Even when it was stopped, it was still bouncing.  Sheer agony.

Still, the school must be pretty good for her, as she hasn't simply declared she is done now, thank you, and headed for home... like she did at kinder, painting classes and primary school.  So overall... Yey!

Edit: She missed her bus stop this morning and didn't even notice till Papa Trickey called her to let her know!


Saturday, 11 February 2012

Yah Yah's are growing up

From being in pain and tired and drained this morning, to being in pain and tired and EXCITED this afternoon.

Have I ever mentioned Circus is SO MUCH FUN!?

Our Yah Yah group is growing up.  (Not older,  we deny that.  All of us are 29.  Forever.)  Do you know what we have done this year that we have NEVER done before?

 We are choreographing, designing the theme, costuming and all around organising our own festival act.  WOW! 

Usually, the Yah Yah's (Young at Heart) only do the third term performance.  Usually our wonderful, talented and creative coach organises the whole act for us and we obediently learn it. 
We are branching out!

Taking on new responsibilities and creating our whole act (with some input from our adored coach, of course.  We can get a bit over the top and have ideas that simply don't work).  We may have based it on the 1970's Charlie's angels, complete with silly poses and a "speaker box" for Charlie.  Tacky is the word!

Preparing to perform IN PUBLIC, at a festival, instead of the nice "invite your family and friends" audience we Yah Yah's usually have.  With no young and uber talented person to hold the highlight for us.  *well, there will be one younger lady, from a different class, but on equal footing, rather than being the star, with us as fun support, to show people that any age can do circus*

It is so thrilling!  And mature and responsible!  (Not the act.  The act is ridiculous and fun)

What was I saying the other week?  That this was going to be the year of saying No, reducing my activities and relaxing more.  It almost made me cry when I had to turn down one friend's request for costume help, as I know I am already over-committed.  But this - this we will excel at, have a fabulous and silly time and hopefully make some people laugh.   

And it is my joy. :-)

The Last Party (Fresh Horses Brigade Linky)

Edenland has gone from a look at how our personalities are expressed through our handwriting last week, with the Fresh Horses Brigade, straight into one of the biggest issues humans have with life.  That it ends. 


And, how do you want people to celebrate yours?



So, I'll take a deep breath, bring on the Fresh Horses to help me dredge some energy up after a week of pain and talk about...

Death.

Death doesn't scare me as much as it used to.  Death will be a release from pain.  In about 40 years or so, hopefully.


What scares me, really scares, right deep to the bone, makes me shiver inside because it's too big to be embraced, is leaving.  I'm not ready to leave this life.  I'm not ready to leave my daughter, the shining star in my skies.  I'm not ready to be yet another woman who has abandoned my husband to the other side of the veil (though at least he will know it's not voluntary).  I'm not ready for them to go on, without me.  I'm not ready to let them be sad.  I barely let her cross the road at 12 years old, without holding my hand, how am I supposed to cope with the idea of her being out these in the real world, on her own, completely responsible for herself.

I hope she makes awesome, amazing, close friends, to be her "family" when we are gone.  I wish I'd made her siblings to love and to love her, to grow old with.


My funeral has been planned out for decades (I went through a dark phase) and the music chosen, with only one additions through the years.  I shall have my all time favourite song, Kate Bush's "Wuthering Heights" for when they show all the pictures and I hope they choose the most embarassing ones they can find and make everyone laugh as well a cry.  "Bella's Lullaby"  (Yes, from Twilight) for the removing of the coffin containing the broken and worn remains of this plaything I call my body.

The music that plays while everyone gathers and waits for the eulogy, that will be totally inappropriate for a funeral.  Just as I am inappropriate in my everyday life.  "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls.  Because it always makes me smile.  Because when I was sad, I would play his song (on cassingle in the car) and sing it over and over, so loud, and it felt like fun.  It sounded like fun.  It made me feel like life could be FUN!

For the flowers, I will ask people to pick daisies from their garden to throw in the open grave, so I will have a coffin covered with the prettiest flowers and it will have been something they have touched, taken a moment to dedicate to me, something of "us" to stay with me.

I love eulogies.  I definately prefer them to be about a life lived to 80.  At my Pop's funeral, I learnt so much about his life before my Dad was born.  The part a grandchild has no real connection with.  It was lovely to know.

I want my eulogy read with tears and sad gaps.  At my Grandad's funeral, I was asked to read the eulogy.  Which I did with clear voice and lovely elocution, because I really wasn't that much of a fan.  I was pleased I kept the anger out of my voice.  I don't want that for my funeral. 

And maybe, just maybe, they'll put this picture on my order of service.


The "most often chosen by friends to put on their wall" picture of me.

Pre-baby (well, sort of, I just didn't know there was a lil' Princess growing in my tummy till a week later!) when I still had a figure, in my "Ginger Spice" persona.  Still haven't gotten around to sewing the Union Jack onto that dress.  Miss the figure, don't miss the younger confused and disoriented soul!  I also miss my hairdresser.  I have never found one as good again.  See those boobies?  Three weeks earlier they had been barely b-cups.  And yet it was the nausea that had me running for a pregnancy test.  Ditz.

 *Ahem* 
Soz, I digress.

Hubby wishes to video his own eulogy, adding to it every ten years or so.  Then he wants his ashes burnt and scattered from the top of his favourite building in the city.  The thought of people walking below getting something in their eye and it BEING MY HUSBAND is just too wrong and I have told him no.  He then said he'd haunt me if I didn't.  Win-Win for me!

Have you thought about your funeral?  Planned the music?  Do fears of death play on your mind?  If you want to talk about it, comment below or blog and link up to Edenland's Fresh Horses Brigade.

Edenland's Fresh Horses Brigade

Wednesday, 8 February 2012

Clawing my way back to the holidays

One week back into school and we are exhausted.  
In pain. 
Screaming at each other. 
Then after both storming off, slamming doors and sulking, coming back together to curl up and fall asleep because I apologised, wasn't mad at her, just I had no energy left to control my temper and was proud that Madam of the Shy had stood up to her Mama of Tantrum.

Hubby's all relaxed and sending pictures from his camping event so his wifey doesn't become a complete mess left all alone.  *ignores the comments of too late*   Wanna see?

So now I know who... um what he hangs with when I am not close by to defend my place by his side.  Damn her for having better nails than me!


The bus trip to school every day is literally "doing my back in".  Princess of Scoliosis has a sore back as well.


Abdominal work is our plan for tonight...no, we have pottery and hoop class. 
Abdominals are on the agenda for tomorrow...no, we have her friend over and Dungeons & Dragons*.  
Abdominal exercises are our Friday night activity!  Yes! 

Then we will make a plan and do five minutes every morning.

'Cos her new school ROCKS and we have to get over this hurdle.

I love the "happy daughter" that is coming home from this new school and will work very hard to keep the daughter in this state.

*Yes, I'm a nerd.  I like physics, too.  Live long and prosper.  These are not the Droids you seek.  All that.

Saturday, 4 February 2012

Bring on the Fresh Horses (Linky with Edenland)

I am a huge fan of Edenland's blog and think she is one of the most inspiring women I know through this world of pixelated communication.

"Bring on the Fresh Horses!" is the name she has given to her new Meme and I love it.

When you think you are at your wits end and there is no place to go...Bring on the Fresh Horses and try something new!
When there is no sunshine in your world and you just want to curl up in a ball and rock back and forth...Bring on the Fresh Horses and go looking for a ray of light somewhere you hadn't tried before.
When you have had no sleep and your children are sick and your husband calls you because the car broke down and he needs you to pick him up... Bring on the Fresh Horses and try a new form of bravery... get over the fear of disturbing others and call anyone you know to go get him instead cos that just isn't safe to drive when you are that tired.

Eden's Meme this week is about handwriting.  Handwriting is very personal.  It's an expression of you.  Of what you love, how you feel.  Eden photographed her handwriting, to share some of herself and I loved it!  So here's me sharing some of myself.

*uploads picture singing, "getting to know you, getting to know all about you..."*  
(always thought that song was a bit stalkerish)

I loves me some rainbows!

Wednesday, 1 February 2012

Sleepyness

I was too quick to assess the situation. 
My Princess hasn't been sleeping through.

She has simply started getting a book and curling up on the couch with the Black Purring Boycat until she can fall back asleep.

A well rested child would have been my first preference, but finding an adorably sleepy 12 yr old curled around a very happy Burmese cat at 3 am was pretty good too.