The M word

Men. Marriage. Money. Mortgage. Motherhood.

At one time or another, depending on my circumstances, I have loved or hated with intensity all of the above.

Let's start with men. Firstly, let me say that for years I craved love. Love was a long time coming for me. That damn clairvoyant I spent copious amounts of moula on was right all along.

I spent many a night wondering where my other half was. Was he also thinking of me? Did he look at the stars as I did, asking the universe to make our paths cross?

Eventually, the universe did come to the party. In the throes of true love, my heart rejoiced and I could not fathom a life without this man. I refused to contemplate that there would ever be a time my loins would not crave his touch.

Enter marriage, mortgage and motherhood. Nothing kills the passion in your life quite like having a baby. 

I also yearned for a baby. Much like the nights spent wondering where my true love was, I asked the universe to bless us with a baby. It did. 

I was very ill prepared for motherhood. In fact I'll admit that I'm still a bad mum. My only salvation is the network of friends who let me know what's going on at the school. At the end of first term, I dragged my child to school only to be chased by a teacher who said 'Um, the kids finished yesterday. Didn't you know?'

No. I didn't know. That's why I'm here with my child. This was not a drill. I'm pretty sure they all laughed at this in the lunchroom.

Money. Aahhhhh money. We need it. Can't live with it. Can't live without it.

For reasons I cannot get into, we have struggled with our bills. I know we are not the only ones. It's hard out there. Between the mortgage, medical bills, childcare fees and utility bills it evaporates quicker than we can earn it.

Kids don't care. They think that we can just go to the bank and get more out. If only dear child.

So between the mortgage, money problems, marriage and motherhood, I'm quickly learning to hate anything M related.

I shouldn't bitch because I know there are people worse off but fuck it. If I can't whinge here where the fuck can I vent

Peace out party people.

Mrs Nobody

The weekly grind

My weekend ritual starts thusly.

Friday I finish work early, pick up my kids, get home, throw on my pjs, turn the heating on and vege on the couch with my babies.

Saturdays, the hubby gets a sleep in while I get up with the kids. What normally transpires is this. While the father of my children slumbers, I do a few loads of laundry. I unstack and then stack the dishwasher. I clean the kids bedrooms and clean the kids toilet and bathroom.

Sundays I sleep in (although most times I can't get back to sleep so I watch movies instead... Sshhhhh) and when I get out of bed, I find the kids running amok and the only 'responsible' adult glued to his ps3 with his headphone on, organizing some sort of zombie invasion with other like minded nerds scattered across the glove. And the kitchen is littered with the aftermath of last night's dinner and the morning's breakfast.

Have you ever washed a bowl with hardened Weetbix?? That shit sets like concrete and you pretty much have to use a frigging jack hammer to dislodge the remnants of breakfast.

So after a really shitty and brutal week, I had a brain snap yesterday. After much door slamming and throwing plates all over the benches, I told my significant other that I would not be doing much of anything other than sitting on my arse and doing what I wanted for a change.

In all of our together I have cleaned, washed, tidies up, cooked. Why??? Why am I the only one doing this???

We both work full time. Is it unreasonable to expect some help?? Screw that. Most of the mess belongs to my 3 children.

I have to say... It was very liberating to go on strike. He did not know how to react to my domestic goddess embargo.

Last night we had Hungry Jacks for dinner. The embargo continues. Let's see what today brings.

I am woman hear me snore.

Dear Helen Reddy.  Thank you ever so much for your ode to female empowerment released some time in the 70s.


There days however, it would appear that I am doing more snoring than roaring.  Well at least that's what my smart mouthed oldest child keeps telling me.


Ok, I'll admit.  Yes...  Apparently my night time ritual has now included me snoring like a freight chain (hubby's words, not mine).  At some point in time, and I cannot remember when this occured, it seems that the kicks and knocks to my slumbering husband are now being returned.  To me.


It sucks.  Because quite frankly, snoring is just gross, annoying and painful. I blame my sinuses, because...  well I have to blame something! I use nasal sprays to clear the passages, but I fear that the snoring is thanks to advancing age.  Not that I'm ready to join the blue rinse brigade anytime soon, but still....


My eldest child's aversion to snoring was so blatant that days before we went away to my parent's beach house, she started laying the ground work to not sleep in our room. My parents own a lovely little beach cottage, one toilet and 3 bedrooms packed to capacity. There's not a lot of privacy and the walls are not sound proof.


She started early, saying that all the snoring people had to sleep in one room.  And she did not want to be in that room.  Ok dear child, we get the message.  You don't like snoring.


Can I just say... I'm fairly confident that when I was young, I never once dared to say anything like this to my mum.  In fact, many years ago, in a visit to my country of birth, my mum and I had to share a room and O. M. G.  Did that woman snore!!!!!!!!!!!!!


I think I was sleepless for about 5 days until I sought refuge on the couch. It was a shocker. But still I said nothing. 


Not so for the kiddly winks these days.


Anyway, it's getting late, best I get ready for another night of snoring.

Make me over

So for many years, I have put myself last behind a very long list of people who needed me for one reason or another.

My children, of course, need a mother to care for them and love them.  And all the stuff in between care and love, you know; teething, reflux, nappy rash, learning to walk, learning to talk, toilet training, tantrums, the arguing, that damn word WHY? that kids seem to pick up very early on.

So for many years while the other things around me came first, I sort of forgot the woman I used to be.  The fiery, smart, well groomed girl disappeared. In it's place came a frumpy, stressed and angry woman who's idea of style was a black hair tie and very loose tracky daks. 

Although I do still love my baggy trackies and an overly large t-shirt, something else has been stirring within.

I have renewed my love affair with makeup.  Although the last time I was really into my make up, Poppy King rules with her bold matte colour palette for lips. If there was something I could do, it was to rock a very matte, very red lip. God blessed me with full lips. And sarcasm.

So, where do you start when you want to dip your toes into the cosmetic world after a very long drought??

You Tube.  God bless the inventors of You Tube.  Have you visited it lately? You can learn practically anything on this website.

Let me tell you, there is about a gazillion videos out there, but the one I am currently obsessed with is the pixiwoo.com blog/You Tube tutorials.

The makeup artists are two sisters and I have spent many many hours checking out their videos on doing different looks.  Thanks to their help and recommendations, I have taken a leap into the 'Me' pool and I'm absolutely loving it.

I have always loved makeup. It's like a little bit of medicine in a lipstick or bronzer. I am loving trying new things.  I get things wrong...  but I will keep on trying. The cosmetic industry is a multi billion dollar industry and I am gobsmacked at some of the prices out there.  Thank the gods for online shopping.

I've included a link for the pixiwoo blog on You Tube.  Hope it works.  I love it!!

 The make-up geniuses Nicola and Samantha Chapman

Walls come tumbling down

Have you ever looked at your life and wondered how far off track you've gotten?

When you are strong and capable, you get into the habit of putting on a facade that everything in life is hunky dory.  Sometimes it is.  Most times it's not.  The problem with this way of life is that eventually, all the balls you've been juggling for far too long end up falling all around you in spectacular fashion.

I think the term is highly functioning.  This is when, despite all indicators indicating that you are in some serious shit, you keep on doing what you've always done and pretending that there is nothing wrong.

As someone who has always been so strong, so capable, so responsible, it's probably the hardest thing in the world to admit defeat.  Because being strong makes you feel worthwhile.  If you lose that, then you lose everything.

I now find myself so far off the track that I cannot remember how to get back and I cannot figure out how, what and where things went askew, putting me on this path I now tread. Given the chance, I'd go back to that point in time and change the way I did things. But of course, that option is not available to us, no matter how hard we pray for salvation.

Anxiety is a terrible friend to have.  Once it's entered your life, it's almost impossible to get rid of. It lingers. Silently. Waiting for a sign of weakness so that it can come to the fore and wreak it's havoc even if it is for a short while. It makes you second guess all of your choices, all of your actions, all of your decisions. 

Maintaining the facade becomes a priority.  Rather than saying "I need help" you blindly move forward with the hope that things will be better tomorrow, next week, next month, or my personal favorite, any minute now.

Nine times out of ten, it never actually happens.  You keep lying to yourself and eventually you believe your own bullshit because it helps you get out bed and continue living your life.

There's a saying that tomorrow is a new day.  You learn later on, that yes, tomorrow is another day, but the shit you couldn't deal with yesterday will be there the next day, waiting.

Most of us will keep pretending to be fine. Because in reality, there are very few people with enough time and energy to take on your crap as well.

My advice? Scream into a pillow. Cry in the shower or car. Keep smiling. Remember you are not alone.  Most times.

Location:Plenty Rd,South Morang,Australia

This is me.

I've been feeling really weird lately.  Kind of like I'm disconnected from life marching on around me. In the past month or so, I have felt the sharp sting of rejection, bubbling fury, the black fingers of depression pulling me into the abyss and above all, a sense of emptiness that I feared for a while could actually consume me.


Sometimes it sucks being a complex person in a world where people like to pretend they have the answers to everything, including what ails me. I don't feel the need to be defined by anything or anyone for that matter. 


So, in light of this, I'd like to introduce myself so that you can understand why I am the way I am.


If I was to describe myself in one word, I would say I'm passionate. Not in the sexual way, but just in the way I live my life. I don't do things by half and sometimes this leads to trouble...  Usually for me.  Sometimes for others.


I was sexually abused by a friend of a family friend when I was 8 and my life changed forever. My child's mind put that experience into a solid filing cabinet deep within my sub conscious and there it remained buried for almost 35 years.


I never told anyone about the sexual abuse.  I don't know why. How does an 8 year old child find the words to tell a parent that they had been raped when the concept of sexuality is a mystery.


As a direct result of this trauma, I became very introverted, shy and at one stage suffered from agoraphobia and suffered sever panic attacks.  This condition overtook me in my teens, probably the worst period in any person's life. I never sought help or told anyone because I thrived on acceptance and I feared that if people knew how pathetic and sad I was, I would be friendless for ever.


I spent my teenage years combating panic attacks and low self esteem. I believed beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was worthless and ugly and no one would or could ever love someone like me.  These feelings helped me hone my razor sharp tongue and biting sarcasm. I hid my fears behind a mask of humor and was regarded as a funny person with biting wit and an extensive knowledge of of all things sexual.


Little did my classmates or friends know, that due to the abuse, I was terrified of men and the thought of even kissing one brought on a panic attack. 


I know logically that I was perhaps not as hideously ugly as the reflection in the mirror.  I had my fair share of male attention. In these instances I convinced myself that there must be something seriously wrong with the young man if he found me attractive.


And so my teenage years passed in panic and anxiety. I befriended people who quite frankly treated me like shit, mainly because I allowed them too. It was only when I was in year 11 in high school that I had the opportunity to befriend a group of girls at school who genuinely liked me.


At that point, I yearned, with every fiber of my being, to find my Prince Charming, the one man who would heal by shattered heart. But the icy fingers of fear squeezed the breath out of me every time a boy tried to talk, dance or get to know me better. I became very good at being a complete and utter bitch.  "Hurt them, before they hurt me" became my philosophy. So I spent my 20's alone and miserable, praying for the right man to come along, the one who would break through the layers of protection I had put around my heart.


Throughout this entire period, I teetered towards full blown depression and then I'd swing back to being confident. Despite all of the dramas going on in my head, I held down a full time job and had a very active social life.


People who know me think I'm tough, strong, self sufficient, loud, bossy, domineering, arrogant, aggressive, annoying and probably some stronger words could be added. Sometimes it sadness me that they fail to see that sometimes I hide behind these things because it's the only way I can cope with what life has thrown at me.


The past few years have been pretty ordinary. There are moments in life when I just want to sit in a dark room and not talk to anyone. My life is so hectic and chaotic that it's very hard to shut down my mind. As hard as I try, sometimes it's easier to let the blackness swallow me for a bit so I can stop and recover.


I don't want to complain, I have a wonderful life.  I have an amazing husband who loves me (although sometimes I wonder why), two amazing kids and a wonderful and diverse group of friends.


But even with the knowledge that I'm luckier than most, sometimes it's not enough to completely erase the feeling that one day someone's going to jump out and say "Ha ha.  Fooled you. This is NOT your life to live"


I've managed to avoid them so far. I plan to actually evict the negative forces from my life one day soon.