Archive for the 'Gracey gracey woo woo' Category

We’re here

I’ll write more soon but we’re finally here, altogether now and while it feels so nice to be a family again, I cannot help feeling loss. Tears well in my eyes as I inspect our new home finding the linen cupboard and the breadboards, the nappies and the toothpaste.  

I am thrilled at the making of a new home but I can’t help but wonder why, oh why, did we need to do this 800kms away from the people I love.

I’m not sure I’ve made the right decision but my first day, tired as I am, in this new house, in this new city, in this new state, must just be that – a first day, rather than a last.

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.


We are away at the moment which accounts for how quiet everything has been around here lately. It has been lovely having some time away with the boys and to see them so relaxed and happy.

But my health has been crap. It makes me sad. It makes me very frustrated. It makes me feel disappointed and even a little angry. I feel like I’m doing all I can to try and make it ok and nothing works now after things feeling ok for a while. Let’s just say that my body doesn’t work completely correctly. Sometimes it’s just uncomfortable. Sometimes it actually hurts. Sometimes I’m so embarrassed about it. I just wish something could fly in and make it ok. I just wish I wasn’t allowing it to affect my holiday.

I know that’s my problem. I know that this can be mind over matter. But when something doesn’t work and sometimes hurts, it’s hard to forget about it. I know other people’s bodies are failing them in far more devestating and profound ways. Ways from which they may be unlikely to recover. But it doesn’t stop my anger and my deep disappointment. 

But that’s my last word on the matter.

Happy birthday to you….

I’m writing tonight because I’m know I’m not going to have a chance tomorrow and then we’re going away and then, before you know it, this special and beautiful moment will have passed without so much as a whisper from Mumma.

Tomorrow is S’s first birthday. All day today, I’ve been madly rushing walking around, thinking of just how damn proud I am of him. Proud that he’s turning one and all the bye-bye to babyhood it entails. Proud of the cheerful, charming little boy he has become. I’ve been so busy all week, I was kinda scared of letting this moment rush by. I had bought his present (very organised of me) and had even organised some family to attend a little birthday tea tomorrow evening. But I thought his birthday would pass too quickly in the flurry of all the work I’ve got on at the moment. But today, while scarily busy and struggling a bit to breathe trying to work out when everything’s going to get done, I managed frequently to think about the first year of S’s life. Think about him and his disarming smile. Think about him and I and our ever-developing relationship. Think about the little unit he has made our family.

I whispered to him many times about his birthday tomorrow. He smiled and looked at me as though I was about to give him more toast because that’s all he was hoping I was whispering about.

He sure has changed my world. In tough, raw ways. In ebullient, joyous, life-filling-up-with-great-stuff ways.

Tomorrow marks the first year of his life and the first year of the rest of my life. My life as a mother of two beautiful, impish, open-armed, quick-to-chuckle, kiss-on-the-lips boys.

Happy birthday S! You totally. And utterly. Without question. Rock. My. World.

These are a few of my favourite things

random iPhone June 09 014Reading in bed before the light goes off. The one and only truely me time of the day. Oh, how I relish that first sniff of sheets and the warmth that creeps up as you wriggle around. Then, to reach for a good book, smooth the pillows, get your perch just right and open the pages.

random iPhone June 09 015

Reading my blog roll in the morning (which is quite funny because C likes referring to his enjoyment of a good bog roll in the morning). Or evening, depending on whether I”m able to find 5 minutes during the day. Sometimes I get over it quickly – it seems all too much stuff. But other times, I relish the connection I feel when I read other people’s words.

random iPhone June 09 017

Jonquils have the most divine smell. Their scent brings back a heady rush of childhood memories. Building cubbies in the front paddock amonst the wild jonquils, narcissus and daffodils. I associate them with winter although I guess, typically, their a spring flower. For me, their smell mingles in memories of warm coats, heavy woollen op-shop jumpers, gumboots, scones and hot chocolate, open fires and evening readings of The Secret Garden. I love that these memories come back to me every year when I smell the first scent of jonquils.

Sleep monster…

rears its ugly head once again. Oh my, I’m done. D-O-N-E. It has now been 11 1/2 months of inconsistent to absolute-crap sleep from S and it’s really doing my head in. I’m mean, of course it is. I’m saying nothing new but for a while there I was committed to trying certain techniques on a regular and sustained basis in the knowledge that I was doing the hard-yards in return for some tangible rewards. Now I’m not so sure. He just doesn’t get it. He doesn’t respond to the techniques everyone else seems to rave about. He is up and down. Awake, asleep. Asleep but mostly AWAKE.

I was prepared to seriously consider a third but I just don’t know I could do another round of this. Especially when I’m not sure I wouldn’t also be dealing with S’s sleep habits at the same time.

I’m so tired and tiredness works well to make you resent life. Resent being out of bed and actually living. Tiredness means bed is the only haven and coffee the only sustenance. Tiredness makes me feel like life’s on hold.

My grandmother died on Saturday. Ten minutes after S and I and my father had left her bedside. She was sleeping after a cruel spell of painful breathing. Her passing makes me (once again) look at life – its fragility, its transience.

Lying in bed last night after I had succumbed and left S with a bottle, I was thinking of the strange paradox of it all. Life  means so much and yet is extinguished so quickly and often thoughtlessly. Any moment we could be gone and my worry about lack of sleep and its attendant complications would mean nothing at all. I have been thinking that EVERY MOMENT MUST COUNT. And then, I’m wacked with lethargy and weariness and I struggle to make ANY moment count or matter.

Hmph……there are no answers. But like every life, every moment too shall pass. Every non-sleeping, weary, fuzzy brained moment.

May 2020