Archive for August, 2009

Toddler totals…..

I had completely forgotten the highs and lows of having a toddler. While I spend much time delighting in the fact that I am getting to know the little person S is, what makes him laugh, his favourite books, his favourite rabbit and the way he hugs her for his dear little life, I also spend equal time pulling my hair out (or screaming because someone else is pulling my hair out) as his little body catapaults through our lives.

I forgot that toddlers can’t communicate but desperately want to. I figure they go from, “nah-can’t-be-bothered-trying- to-tell-her-what-I-want-cos-she-won’t-get-it” to “why-the-hell-can’t-you-work-out-what-I-want-goddamn-it-are-you-crazy?” in a matter of days.

S screams all the time for things he wants but gives us little indication of what that might be. He throw his head back or his body to the ground, opens his little mouth and lets out an almighty wail and then stares right at me as if to say, ‘here’s your chance to change my life. can you do it?” and of course I can’t because I DON’T KNOW WHAT HE WANTS.  Have I said that already?

He’s bloody cheeky I can tell you that much. A was mellow. The mellowist little toddler dude (although I think I”m paying for it now) so I guess some of this with S is novel. S is N-A-U-G-H-T-Y. And while that rocks my socks fleetingly it’s also beginning to be a bit painful. REALLY. Like the little adventure below. I heard a draw in the kitchen open. I heard a rustle. I heard giggles. I heard little pellets drop like rain across the wooden floor.




He’s been sick which doesn’t help things. So he’s really been trying to tell us how he’s feeling. After an overdue visit to the doctor yesterday (desperate enough to pay Sunday rates – sheesh!) I realise he’s been trying to, croakingly, tell us that he’s got bacterial conjunctivitis, a middle-ear infection, and bad, bad tonsilitis. Oops. Doctor will be visited more promptly next time. It was a good lesson for me not to blame everything on the craziness that toddlerdom is.

All you need is friends

I was listening to an interesting piece recently on a new favourite podcast. It was women talking about female friendship and while that seems like the most banal and standard discussion for women, I realised (as the participants realised) that we don’t often talk about the nature of female friendships. Sure, we talk about our friendships – we usually bitch and moan about all of them at some stage but we don’t often ‘out’ ourselves and the way we conduct our friendships.

I’m useless as a friend. Particularly since having a family. But more than that, I’m pretty introverted. I’ve always had a handful of good friends (close? I’m not sure) and make little effort with others; others that would consider me a friend and that they are one of mine. But what can I say? 

But I guess what I was most fascinated by on the programme was the capacity women have to talk about each other to each other. Not often to each other’s faces but about each other. How this form of communication is really quite normal. Par for the course. We all do it. We can’t help but do it. But I’m just not sure why. I know why I get frustrated and annoyed with friends but I don’t know why I have to talk about them with my other friends. For reassurance? For guidance? I don’t think so. It confuses me.

I’m leaving this city soon but more importantly I’m leaving a group of wonderful women who make me feel better (usually) when I’m with them. Only now, faced with ‘starting again’ on the friends front, am I truely aware of what my friends mean to me, what they bring me in life and how much I share with them. It’s going to be tough and I’m not great socially. I’m already at risk of failing to share all of myself with others but over the last 6 or so years, the friends in my life have inspired me to be more open, to share more, to give more, to care more, and to laugh more. It was quite a long time coming. It took a while for these disparate women to come together regularly and just be with each other. But we do it now (albeit not as much as we’d wish) but we are a team I guess.

What team will I belong to now? I’ll be teamless and I can’t help but feel that my natural reaction will be to look for one-man sports, avoid the groups, the many, the glasses of champagne. I also know that this isn’t healthy for me.

Only time will tell and in the meantime, I’ll be flying when I can back to Sydney, back to the arms and the laughter and the too-many-bottles-of-wine of my nearest and dearest.


I know that not writing on your blog for an extended period of time is , well, a travesty. Good thing that no one really nreads my blog and therefore no one is really missing anything at all.

Having said this, it’s been a couple of weeks of quick, slippery slides….down. Down. Down. For the first time in a long time I thought about the packet of tablets sitting in my bedside table top draw since December. I’ve looked at the packet. I’ve picked it up. I’ve taken the tablet sheet out. I’ve imagined what it would feel like to pop one out of it’s little casing. I’ve wondered, deep down, if I need them. If they will help me cope with my condition. If they will help me see a little joy in the days that follow and are to come.

It’s been a tough time round here. You will remember this. And most importantly, I was feeling about it. My father-in-law was sentenced last Friday for a scarily, inordinate amount of time. I mean, I know he did something bad. Something wrong that hurt other people. But what other people lost was money. He’s losing his life (of sorts). It may sound melodramatic but in sentencing him to 8 years, the judge was basically taking away the life of a 65 year old. Or at least, ensuring that he has no quality of life remaining. We are all in shock. We are all pretty quiet about it.

And we’re moving. Closer to C’s family and far away from mine. That hurts real, real bad. I struggle with my health and to know that I won’t have the support mechanisms that are currently available to me scares me beyond belief. But, I owe it to C. I know we both want something different.

I also know, the only way I can cope with the fate of my father-in-law is to know that he will see those two little boys who bring him so much joy, on  regular basis. That makes me feel ok. That makes it all feel ok.

August 2009