The most gorgeous brother

As we walked home from school Maya glumly reported that another girl in her netball team had gleefully informed her that she should have been at netball training that  morning because they all had hot chocolate.

As soon as we got in the door Alex went straight to the kitchen and made Maya a hot chocolate "with extra whipped cream on top". Gorgeous boy.

Fear and waiting

Fear - Part 1

Written as I sat in the doctor's waiting room...

That metallic taste, the butterflies, the shallow breath. I remember this fear. That time I squished my whole body into a ball under a chair to escape the flailing strap of my grandfather.  The tips of his belt got me across the ankles but he mostly missed. The time I jumped out of a moving car to run away from my stepfather and he drove the car up onto the footpath to chase me. Blind panic, the whooshing in your ears, the electric stab to the heart. That time the nurse said  "I'm just going to pop the monitor on because the baby's having a few problems." That time the nurse said "It's alright just lie back." That time I already was lying back and I felt the world spin and drop away from me, monitors beeping and suddenly a lot of medical people around my bed and my mother leaning in close and whispering "they're testing you for leukaemia." That time I lost Alex in the shopping centre. All the terrible possibilities crowd into view in your mind's eye. Those times I rushed the children to the emergency room, with Chris barking at me that I was over-reacting. That time the doctor told me, "there are no good options here. You're a ticking time bomb."

Fear stabs, and prickles, and smothers and creeps. Your guts feel like they are going to drop right out of you. Then there's the other kind of fear, the kind that lurks, always there, always in the background, like a creepy guy across the room at a party who refuses to stop staring at you. Fear of abandonment. Fear of death. Fear of illness. Fear of your children growing up motherless - that one stands apart, unlike any other.  I have to try to surrender what I cannot control. I grapple with it. It hangs on.

Lawyering

Maya: "Should I be a lawyer? What does it involve?"

Me: "Well you need to be able to argue."

Maya: "As in fight?"

Me: "As in, prove a point."

Maya: "So really it's an exposition."

ex·po·si·tion

/ˌekspəˈziSH(ə)n/

noun

• 1.a comprehensive description and explanation of an idea or theory: "the exposition and defense of his ethics"

Lifehack:Have your own barber

Recently I was talking to my brother and I mentioned that Alex wanted to get a haircut, but it had to be at a particular place where there was a barber he likes because he doesn't like anyone else cutting his hair.

Matt said, "Wait, Alex has his own barber?"

I said that yes, I suppose he does. Matt told me that he remembers reading an article when he was 25 that said a sign of adult maturity is having your own barber. As in, you know you've reached adulthood when you don't just go to any old tom, dick or harry to get your hair cut but have an ongoing person. And he remembers thinking at 25, wow, I'd better get myself a barber.

And now I tell him his 10yrold nephew has a barber.

Mothers Day 2016

Today my children told me to stay in bed while they made preparations for my breakfast in bed.

They presented me with tea and toast on a tray, and a bowl of watermelon that Maya had carved into heart shapes!

They both gave me hand made cards. Alex drew a businesspig. Maya made a treasure hunt where I searched for clues that turned out to be a word puzzle.

She sang from Adventure Time - "and if you're an evil Pa I will punch you for fun!"

And so did I - "this castle is in unacceptable condition! Unacceptable!"

And we were happy, us three.

Starting over

I have long held myself to standards that have lead to disappointment. I've compared myself with others. I'm always telling myself I should blog more, or at least have written a book or two. I had nine years out of the workforce, at home with my children. I could have at least made an attempt! Obviously I'm not meant to be a writer.

But then I take a step back and I look at the challenges I have been dealing with throughout that time. I'm almost 39 and I have spent my life trying to get out from under. I shouldn't beat myself up for what I haven't achieved, I should take a look at what I have. And also realise - my life isn't necessarily over. So many times in our culture we feel like if we haven't achieved stuff by a certain age then we are never going to. I could live until I'm 90! Not even halfway there!

I was raised by two self-absorbed people, who weren't able to meet my needs. It has taken me a long time to re-learn how to be a person, and to be ok with myself, and to take care and protect myself emotionally, and to recover from my childhood. This has been a full-time occupation for me over the last 20 years. In that time I have also gotten top grades at school, completed a university degree, birthed and cared for two children, moved countries three times, been through a divorce, re-entered the workforce full time as a single parent after a nine year absence and forged deep and lasting bonds with true friends. My children are smart, funny, kind, excellent people. I'd say those are achievements. Oh and I forgot to mention that in the middle of it all I found out I have an inoperable aneurysm that may or may not end my life suddenly. I've managed to distance myself from the people who I feel anxious around, for the most part.  I'd say I'm coping pretty well.

Just me

Me