"Never play with the feelings of others because you may win the game but the risk is that you will surely lose the person for a life time" - shakespeare
What a shame my ex will never understand that.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Friday, January 6, 2012
Well, I'm off for a week
Tonight my daughter and I are flying down to Brisvegas and hiring a car to drive to Broadbeach for my cousin's 30th birthday. 30. How on earth could she be 30? It seems like only yesterday I lugged her around like my very own pooping, weeing, crying, smiling doll. That must mean I'm ... we won't go there.
We're meeting up with my mum and all staying in a flash apartment over the weekend. My treat - Merry Christmas Ma! Then we'll head down to God's Country (Far North coast of NSW) to mum's for a few days before coming home next week.
And boy am I looking forward to it!
Not just because I get to see my mum or because I get to spend quality time with my daughter or because there's shops and beaches and sunning myself and doing nothing to be had.
No, the main reason I'm excited is that I get a week off from being a slave in this house.
Yep. Slave.
Honestly, how hard can it be to give a bit of a helping hand around the place? I clean up, go to work, come home, there's a mess. I cook dinner/do the shopping/water the garden/wash/fold the clothes and take care of anything else that is out of place, broken, missing or needs to be purchased. And if I'm really lucky I get a spare 30 minutes to do my daily walk.
Oh sure, the three boys that MAKE the mess make a token effort every now and then ... usually not until I've done my Krakatoa impersonation though. And I hate that side of me. I hate being a nagging fishwife. I don't want to jump up and down and stamp my feet. It makes me feel mean and uncomfortable and nasty.
And it's not like I'm asking for anything totally outrageous either. Just the dirty dishes actually put INTO the dishwasher. And the clean ones taken out. If you see a full clothes hamper, how about shoving it in the washing machine? And then hanging it out? Here's a tip - if there's dry washing on the line, how about you grab that basket that's sitting RIGHT UNDERNEATH THE CLOTHES LINE and bring it in for me? Make a mess on the floor - clean it up. We're running out of food? How about you go shopping? After all, I only eat a fraction of what I buy and the rest goes down your gullet so it's not like you don't know what to get!
Granted, Woody has had a cold the last few days but geez ... unless I'm actually dead I'm still expected to make sure the house ticks along. To me, the idea of lying on the lounge every afternoon after working only half days, watching the entire 6th series of Supernatural is just fucking lazy.
There. I said it. Lazy.
And the question that constantly pops up in my mind is "Is this the chicken or the egg?" By wanting to please when we first moved in together, did I make this situation happen or was this just a given?
Judging by the way his unit used to look (Pigpen had nothing on him), I'm leaning on the side of 'given' ... and here's where it gets real messy. Does that mean I want to change him? Is that fair? If you love someone, doesn't that mean you accept them just the way they are, warts and all?
But then, is it fair for me to do everything now we're living together? And whilst I know my boys create their own fair share of havoc, I tend to bristle when he tells them to clean up. I want to shout "Hey buddy! Talk about pot calling kettle black! Why don't YOU clean up?"
One afternoon I came home after a particularly tetchy day to find the boys hadn't cleaned their bathroom like I asked. After getting them to do it NOW because people were coming to stay with us and I didn't want them calling the Health Department, I walked out to the kitchen .... to find shit everywhere. Plates in sink, cups on bench, pots and pans dirty on stove. It looked like a major cook-off had taken place in my absence. Krakatoa rumbled.
I turned on my heel and stomped to the ensuite and took a shower. Woody came sauntering in as I opened the door to come out. I looked at him (it must have been a scary one) and quietly muttered "Someone had better clean up that kitchen before I go postal". I think he actually paled a little, reversed direction very quickly and scooted out to fix it.
In those cases, I end up with mixed feelings of relief that someone has helped me but guilty about losing my cool. Surely there must be a better way of getting some assistance but I'm yet to find it. Boys, I believe, are born with blinkers on and just don't see the mess.
Personally, I blame my vagina. If I wasn't a girl, I'm sure it wouldn't bother me.
We're meeting up with my mum and all staying in a flash apartment over the weekend. My treat - Merry Christmas Ma! Then we'll head down to God's Country (Far North coast of NSW) to mum's for a few days before coming home next week.
And boy am I looking forward to it!
Not just because I get to see my mum or because I get to spend quality time with my daughter or because there's shops and beaches and sunning myself and doing nothing to be had.
No, the main reason I'm excited is that I get a week off from being a slave in this house.
Yep. Slave.
Honestly, how hard can it be to give a bit of a helping hand around the place? I clean up, go to work, come home, there's a mess. I cook dinner/do the shopping/water the garden/wash/fold the clothes and take care of anything else that is out of place, broken, missing or needs to be purchased. And if I'm really lucky I get a spare 30 minutes to do my daily walk.
Oh sure, the three boys that MAKE the mess make a token effort every now and then ... usually not until I've done my Krakatoa impersonation though. And I hate that side of me. I hate being a nagging fishwife. I don't want to jump up and down and stamp my feet. It makes me feel mean and uncomfortable and nasty.
And it's not like I'm asking for anything totally outrageous either. Just the dirty dishes actually put INTO the dishwasher. And the clean ones taken out. If you see a full clothes hamper, how about shoving it in the washing machine? And then hanging it out? Here's a tip - if there's dry washing on the line, how about you grab that basket that's sitting RIGHT UNDERNEATH THE CLOTHES LINE and bring it in for me? Make a mess on the floor - clean it up. We're running out of food? How about you go shopping? After all, I only eat a fraction of what I buy and the rest goes down your gullet so it's not like you don't know what to get!
Granted, Woody has had a cold the last few days but geez ... unless I'm actually dead I'm still expected to make sure the house ticks along. To me, the idea of lying on the lounge every afternoon after working only half days, watching the entire 6th series of Supernatural is just fucking lazy.
There. I said it. Lazy.
And the question that constantly pops up in my mind is "Is this the chicken or the egg?" By wanting to please when we first moved in together, did I make this situation happen or was this just a given?
Judging by the way his unit used to look (Pigpen had nothing on him), I'm leaning on the side of 'given' ... and here's where it gets real messy. Does that mean I want to change him? Is that fair? If you love someone, doesn't that mean you accept them just the way they are, warts and all?
But then, is it fair for me to do everything now we're living together? And whilst I know my boys create their own fair share of havoc, I tend to bristle when he tells them to clean up. I want to shout "Hey buddy! Talk about pot calling kettle black! Why don't YOU clean up?"
One afternoon I came home after a particularly tetchy day to find the boys hadn't cleaned their bathroom like I asked. After getting them to do it NOW because people were coming to stay with us and I didn't want them calling the Health Department, I walked out to the kitchen .... to find shit everywhere. Plates in sink, cups on bench, pots and pans dirty on stove. It looked like a major cook-off had taken place in my absence. Krakatoa rumbled.
I turned on my heel and stomped to the ensuite and took a shower. Woody came sauntering in as I opened the door to come out. I looked at him (it must have been a scary one) and quietly muttered "Someone had better clean up that kitchen before I go postal". I think he actually paled a little, reversed direction very quickly and scooted out to fix it.
In those cases, I end up with mixed feelings of relief that someone has helped me but guilty about losing my cool. Surely there must be a better way of getting some assistance but I'm yet to find it. Boys, I believe, are born with blinkers on and just don't see the mess.
Personally, I blame my vagina. If I wasn't a girl, I'm sure it wouldn't bother me.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
The angry little man inside my brain
 |
| Run rabbit run |
They say that when you give up caffeine you may suffer a slight headache but only in the first day or two. What they conveniently forget to mention is that:
a) 'Slight' headache actually translates to the equivalent of an angry little man running around inside your brain, banging on the walls with a bloody big hammer screaming "Give. Me. Coffee. NOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWW"; and
b) This lasts ALL of the first two days of your detox.
So I'm at the dawn of Day 3 and whilst the little guy has finally given up banging and is now sobbing quietly in a corner, the remains of his work are still with me. My head feels tender from the inside out. And I wasn't a big coffee drinker at all. One, maybe two at the most, per day. Oh, and a cup of tea in the morning. I don't drink coke or any of those hellishly nasty 'energy' drinks (poison in a can, really) so that only totals a maximum of 3 doses of caffeine per day. I cannot imagine what the poor souls who drink more than that go through, should they ever go cold turkey.
But honestly, so far it hasn't been too tragically hard. The first day I was a little hungry (oh yeah, and felt like I had the mother of all hangovers thanks to the angry little man) but yesterday was pretty cruisy. Today seems to be shaping up ok as well. I've lost a kilo already, despite eating more than I usually do (although I guess contents are definitely different) and am starting to develop that smug "This is so easy. I'm so great. Look at me looking after my body." attitude that I will try keeping to myself in fear I will be slapped. I mean, if I can all of a sudden manage to eat healthily and go for that 30 minute walk now, how come I couldn't before? Idiot.
But I think what's really holding me together is the fact that this is only for 5 days. And I'm on hump day. For 5 days I can make changes. I can tell myself "It's not forever. Surely you can manage this for just 5 measly days you soft-centred lily-livered sooky bubba" (I tend to get a little Sergeant-Majorish with myself at times.)
Because the thought of doing this forever ... well, it just isn't worth thinking about. I mean, honestly. What would life be like without alcohol, sugar or caffeine? No chocolate. No red wine. No coffee.
Just sad, really.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Happy New ... diet?
Happy New Year to all! I had a fabulous New Year down in Brisbane where we went to watch Brisbane Roar trounce Melbourne Victory (sorry, Harry. You're cute but you're on the wrong team!) then walked to Southbank to watch the midnight fireworks before squeezing onto a train with half the population to get home (but it was free so you can't complain about that!).
So now it's my first day back at work and I'm starting a mild detox diet as well. I know, I know. It's going to be an interesting 5 days but I just HAVE to do it. I've been careless with my health for far too long so it's time for a little responsible action.
Wow. I almost convinced myself there! Seriously, I know it's at this time of year that we all make resolutions usually involving diets and health blah blah blah but this time I really mean it. I do. Cross my heart and hope to diet?
I've set myself a couple of goals this year so here's the list (just in case I forget it ... which is highly likely ...)
1. Eat healthy foods. Not diet so much as be aware of what I'm shoving down my gullet and remember that we are what we eat and I don't want to end up shaped like a burger. Wait ... french fries are slim ... I could handle looking like that ...
2. Do something physical I enjoy every day. That may be walking, gardening, playing soccer or horizontal folk dancing. And yes, I'm definitely counting that as exercise.
3. Love my life. Every time I get whiny and start complaining, I promise to give myself a good mental slap upside the head and take a good look at what I already have. I have so much nowadays. I need to be bloody grateful for it.
That's it. I have a short attention span anyway so any more than three resolutions and I'm doomed for failure before I've started.
2012 is going to be the BEST. Year. Ever!
So now it's my first day back at work and I'm starting a mild detox diet as well. I know, I know. It's going to be an interesting 5 days but I just HAVE to do it. I've been careless with my health for far too long so it's time for a little responsible action.
Wow. I almost convinced myself there! Seriously, I know it's at this time of year that we all make resolutions usually involving diets and health blah blah blah but this time I really mean it. I do. Cross my heart and hope to diet?
I've set myself a couple of goals this year so here's the list (just in case I forget it ... which is highly likely ...)
1. Eat healthy foods. Not diet so much as be aware of what I'm shoving down my gullet and remember that we are what we eat and I don't want to end up shaped like a burger. Wait ... french fries are slim ... I could handle looking like that ...
2. Do something physical I enjoy every day. That may be walking, gardening, playing soccer or horizontal folk dancing. And yes, I'm definitely counting that as exercise.
3. Love my life. Every time I get whiny and start complaining, I promise to give myself a good mental slap upside the head and take a good look at what I already have. I have so much nowadays. I need to be bloody grateful for it.
That's it. I have a short attention span anyway so any more than three resolutions and I'm doomed for failure before I've started.
2012 is going to be the BEST. Year. Ever!
Friday, December 30, 2011
A very Merry Christmas!
Well, after all that wittering, I had the most fabulous Christmas Day. Family, food, fun, presents, love and laughter! I scored majorly with a Kindle AND a coffee machine. Sweeeeet! But you know, I could have happily skipped the presents and just have been content with the family surrounding me all day.
They aren't even my family - they're Woody's - but they're so inclusive and loving and generous and funny. And early risers. Did I mention that? I thought Woody was joking when he said that his mum would be up at 5am on Christmas Day. Unfortunately not.
After a great Christmas Eve playing Scattergories to great hoots of laughter and much tongue-in-cheek bickering about the nature of some answers, we all crashed just before midnight. My last thought was "Surely they'll sleep in a little bit, seeing as it's so late?". I was wrong.
5am on the dot there was a gentle scrabbling and knocking at the bedroom door. Seriously?? Seriously. Since there was going to be a video camera around, I did the whole make-up that doesn't look like you have make-up but also doesn't look like you're a swamp donkey from the depths of sleep either. There were presents galore and it was very different from what we've done for the past god knows how long. Woody wore a Santa hat and handed them out like machine gun fire so it was all ripping paper and exclamations and noisy kisses whirling past so fast I have no idea what anyone got.
As a contrast, we always handed out one present at a time and everyone ooh'ed and aah'ed over it so the gift giving took a while. Neat. Orderly. Controlled.
Hmmmm .....
I never realised until a few years ago how neat, orderly and controlled everything in my life was - apart from the whole moving house every year or so which almost drove me nuts but kept Sidekick happy. I suppose I should have guessed that I'm a bit of a control freak, seeing as I'm a librarian. But there is still a bit of the rebel about me.
For instance, I don't believe in a shush library. If your library is quiet, that means people aren't in there. That's bad for your stats and for your community. And I did let people help in the kitchen (even though the mess ... omigod the mess ...). And I basically stood back and let this lovely, loud, gregarious, generous family come into my house and take over.
I actually liked it in a way. It's new and different and I'm lucky to have them consider me worthy of their affection.
Of course .... I've spent the last three days tidying things up but hey! The dry run is broken! What a fantastic Christmas!
They aren't even my family - they're Woody's - but they're so inclusive and loving and generous and funny. And early risers. Did I mention that? I thought Woody was joking when he said that his mum would be up at 5am on Christmas Day. Unfortunately not.
After a great Christmas Eve playing Scattergories to great hoots of laughter and much tongue-in-cheek bickering about the nature of some answers, we all crashed just before midnight. My last thought was "Surely they'll sleep in a little bit, seeing as it's so late?". I was wrong.
5am on the dot there was a gentle scrabbling and knocking at the bedroom door. Seriously?? Seriously. Since there was going to be a video camera around, I did the whole make-up that doesn't look like you have make-up but also doesn't look like you're a swamp donkey from the depths of sleep either. There were presents galore and it was very different from what we've done for the past god knows how long. Woody wore a Santa hat and handed them out like machine gun fire so it was all ripping paper and exclamations and noisy kisses whirling past so fast I have no idea what anyone got.
As a contrast, we always handed out one present at a time and everyone ooh'ed and aah'ed over it so the gift giving took a while. Neat. Orderly. Controlled.
Hmmmm .....
I never realised until a few years ago how neat, orderly and controlled everything in my life was - apart from the whole moving house every year or so which almost drove me nuts but kept Sidekick happy. I suppose I should have guessed that I'm a bit of a control freak, seeing as I'm a librarian. But there is still a bit of the rebel about me.
For instance, I don't believe in a shush library. If your library is quiet, that means people aren't in there. That's bad for your stats and for your community. And I did let people help in the kitchen (even though the mess ... omigod the mess ...). And I basically stood back and let this lovely, loud, gregarious, generous family come into my house and take over.
I actually liked it in a way. It's new and different and I'm lucky to have them consider me worthy of their affection.
Of course .... I've spent the last three days tidying things up but hey! The dry run is broken! What a fantastic Christmas!
Friday, December 23, 2011
A not-so-nice Christmas story
Whilst I am glad today is my last day of work and I am definitely looking forward to having 10 days off, I have been dragging my feet when it comes to getting 'Christmas-y'. I feel quite ambivalent about the day actually and this morning I was lying in bed, reading Facebook posts of friends who are obviously enjoying the lead-up and wondering why I felt a little, shall we say "Baa Humbug" about it?
Perhaps it's because the last two ... oh, wait ... make that three Christmases have been exceptionally crappy. I could make it into a song:
'The first shitty Christmas my true(?) love gave to me was an all-out brawl with my family' ... but to be honest, it wasn't all his fault. He was under a lot of stress - we were struggling to find a way to stay together and my Dad didn't help things by unknowingly being on a countdown of just on a year until his number was up but still not enjoying the precious little time he had left but rather haranguing us all on how we have to eat, breathe and live so we don't get cancer and die like he was going to. I stood up to him because he was picking on the kids and god knows, they didn't need lectures from their grandfather when their parents were doing the whole 'silent fighting' thing and the tension in the house was thicker than Jessica Simpson. He turned on Mum when she stood up for me then Sidekick told him in no uncertain terms that he could take that shit right out of our house and wasn't welcome anymore. Horrible, horrible stuff. Funny how I almost forgot that ... but then again, from June 2008 to about June 2010, everything is blurry in my mind. Like the pain of childbirth, the old brain says "Yeah, we don't need to carry THAT around every day" and jettisons the details.
'The second shitty Christmas my true ( ?!) love gave to me was a death threat and cut off from his family' ... only one part of which was his fault. Oh yeah, he threatened to come after me and gun me down 'Blatchy style'**. Lovely. I don't think he counted on me sticking my face right up close to his, looking him right in the eyes and saying softly "Bring. It. On you piece of shit. I'm not afraid of you anymore". We had already announced to our families that we were separating, thanks to his bullshit behaviour while I was down spending three weeks nursing my dad and giving my mum a break. Constant phone calls and texting abuse all hours of the day and night. Harassment in anyone's language ... except when you're a wife and believe you MUST answer otherwise you'll be in trouble, even though he's over 1000 k's away. My parents took the news well, knowing I had been unhappy for a long time (well, Mum did anyway.) and let him know that he would always be the father of their grandchildren and was always welcome; that they thought of him as a son. His parents cut me off completely, banning me from their Christmas activities altogether. For once, the SOB actually took my side and told them that if I couldn't come, none of them would. They didn't relent. Stupid people, really. It was to be my last Christmas with my father, who by that stage was thin and grey and definitely fading but so much nicer to be around. He had made peace with his disease. I just wish Sidekick hadn't been such a douche and I could have enjoyed those final days with him more. He had a stroke around 4am December 31st and died January 16th 2009.
'The third shitty Christmas my true (pffft!) love gave to me was no Christmas day with my kids and a 'oh, didn't I tell you the new girlfriend was coming down with me?'. Yeah, in my weaker moments of 2010, I said 'Sure, you can have the kids for Christmas Day' which turned out to be Christmas week. And his girlfriend went with them. Son. Of. A. Bitch. I hated the fact that they were having Christmas with him and her, even though it made sense. After all, he'd moved in with her 6 months ago. Oh yeah - he went from "I'll love no one but you forever" to 'I'm moving in with her' in less time than it takes to change an outfit. I honestly shouldn't have been surprised. One of our biggest problems was that he couldn't stand to be alone, which made me feel completely claustrophobic. He is an ex-soldier ... and what is a solder without his troops? A sad, pathetic loser (in his eyes, anyway). Our first Christmas without Dad and mine without my kids was pretty miserable for Mum and I. We woke up ... and cried. We went to church ... and cried. We came home ... and cried. I got the brilliant idea of putting Bundaberg Red label Rum in our coffee, which went well. Three 'coffees' later and I had to ring my sister in law to ask when they were coming because we needed supervision! Next day, I went out with old school friends and got drunk, so essentially last Christmas was an alcohol-induced blur. Pathetic. I missed Woody (who was having issues of his own, being cut off from all his family due to flooding and spending Christmas alone). I missed my kids. I hated my ex with a passion. And worst of all, I missed my Dad. The others I knew I would eventually catch up with (or get over) but there's nothing like a celebration to make you realise a person is REALLY gone. And you'll never get the chance to celebrate with them again.
So, Santa, all I really want for Christmas this year is nothing too extravagant. A family day spent with nice people, enjoying each others' company and celebrating the fact that here I am - new house, new partner, new life, new start - and enjoying everything that life has to offer me. At the end of the day, after all the trials and tribulations, I do realise that I am truly blessed.
May you all get the Christmas that you want and may it be a time to cherish and remember always.
**refers to a family we once knew so well. She was planning to leave him so he stopped halfway home on a country road and shot her at point blank range with his rifle hidden under the seat whilst the kids screamed in the back seat. He then got out and shot himself in the head. I should have insisted Sidekick get counselling for that, as he went into a depression that I'm not sure he'll ever recover from*
Perhaps it's because the last two ... oh, wait ... make that three Christmases have been exceptionally crappy. I could make it into a song:
'The first shitty Christmas my true(?) love gave to me was an all-out brawl with my family' ... but to be honest, it wasn't all his fault. He was under a lot of stress - we were struggling to find a way to stay together and my Dad didn't help things by unknowingly being on a countdown of just on a year until his number was up but still not enjoying the precious little time he had left but rather haranguing us all on how we have to eat, breathe and live so we don't get cancer and die like he was going to. I stood up to him because he was picking on the kids and god knows, they didn't need lectures from their grandfather when their parents were doing the whole 'silent fighting' thing and the tension in the house was thicker than Jessica Simpson. He turned on Mum when she stood up for me then Sidekick told him in no uncertain terms that he could take that shit right out of our house and wasn't welcome anymore. Horrible, horrible stuff. Funny how I almost forgot that ... but then again, from June 2008 to about June 2010, everything is blurry in my mind. Like the pain of childbirth, the old brain says "Yeah, we don't need to carry THAT around every day" and jettisons the details.
'The second shitty Christmas my true ( ?!) love gave to me was a death threat and cut off from his family' ... only one part of which was his fault. Oh yeah, he threatened to come after me and gun me down 'Blatchy style'**. Lovely. I don't think he counted on me sticking my face right up close to his, looking him right in the eyes and saying softly "Bring. It. On you piece of shit. I'm not afraid of you anymore". We had already announced to our families that we were separating, thanks to his bullshit behaviour while I was down spending three weeks nursing my dad and giving my mum a break. Constant phone calls and texting abuse all hours of the day and night. Harassment in anyone's language ... except when you're a wife and believe you MUST answer otherwise you'll be in trouble, even though he's over 1000 k's away. My parents took the news well, knowing I had been unhappy for a long time (well, Mum did anyway.) and let him know that he would always be the father of their grandchildren and was always welcome; that they thought of him as a son. His parents cut me off completely, banning me from their Christmas activities altogether. For once, the SOB actually took my side and told them that if I couldn't come, none of them would. They didn't relent. Stupid people, really. It was to be my last Christmas with my father, who by that stage was thin and grey and definitely fading but so much nicer to be around. He had made peace with his disease. I just wish Sidekick hadn't been such a douche and I could have enjoyed those final days with him more. He had a stroke around 4am December 31st and died January 16th 2009.
'The third shitty Christmas my true (pffft!) love gave to me was no Christmas day with my kids and a 'oh, didn't I tell you the new girlfriend was coming down with me?'. Yeah, in my weaker moments of 2010, I said 'Sure, you can have the kids for Christmas Day' which turned out to be Christmas week. And his girlfriend went with them. Son. Of. A. Bitch. I hated the fact that they were having Christmas with him and her, even though it made sense. After all, he'd moved in with her 6 months ago. Oh yeah - he went from "I'll love no one but you forever" to 'I'm moving in with her' in less time than it takes to change an outfit. I honestly shouldn't have been surprised. One of our biggest problems was that he couldn't stand to be alone, which made me feel completely claustrophobic. He is an ex-soldier ... and what is a solder without his troops? A sad, pathetic loser (in his eyes, anyway). Our first Christmas without Dad and mine without my kids was pretty miserable for Mum and I. We woke up ... and cried. We went to church ... and cried. We came home ... and cried. I got the brilliant idea of putting Bundaberg Red label Rum in our coffee, which went well. Three 'coffees' later and I had to ring my sister in law to ask when they were coming because we needed supervision! Next day, I went out with old school friends and got drunk, so essentially last Christmas was an alcohol-induced blur. Pathetic. I missed Woody (who was having issues of his own, being cut off from all his family due to flooding and spending Christmas alone). I missed my kids. I hated my ex with a passion. And worst of all, I missed my Dad. The others I knew I would eventually catch up with (or get over) but there's nothing like a celebration to make you realise a person is REALLY gone. And you'll never get the chance to celebrate with them again.
So, Santa, all I really want for Christmas this year is nothing too extravagant. A family day spent with nice people, enjoying each others' company and celebrating the fact that here I am - new house, new partner, new life, new start - and enjoying everything that life has to offer me. At the end of the day, after all the trials and tribulations, I do realise that I am truly blessed.
May you all get the Christmas that you want and may it be a time to cherish and remember always.
**refers to a family we once knew so well. She was planning to leave him so he stopped halfway home on a country road and shot her at point blank range with his rifle hidden under the seat whilst the kids screamed in the back seat. He then got out and shot himself in the head. I should have insisted Sidekick get counselling for that, as he went into a depression that I'm not sure he'll ever recover from*
Monday, December 19, 2011
It's beginning to look alot like Christmas
 |
| Oh god why do people do this? |
I even wrote a blog about Those sickly-sweet Christmas Letters, which if you want a bit of background history, you might find interesting to read. I certainly did. It's funny how blogs often double as very effective diaries of your life. Brought ALOT back.
This year, I'm still good - great, even! But things are different again. Life is full, more than I could have ever imagined it was possible to be. So that, and the fact I received 3 cards last year for all my efforts I figured a 'snarky sarcastic Christmas letter' via email would suffice this year as I don't do sickly sweet, even on a good day.
Oh yes, you could argue about modern technology taking over the niceties of doing things 'right'. I'm sure when the first ballpoint pens came out, there was a lot of hooha over using them as opposed to the ol' quill and ink. Let's face it - communication is constantly evolving and changing (or in the case of Facebook and Twitter, some may argue it's devolving!) and does it really matter HOW we touch base with others from our life collage? As long as we send a message saying "Hey. It's Christmas. And I thought of you. How are ya?", that's all that really counts in the end.
So here's my Christmas letter this year. Just thought I'd touch base with you, say 'It's Christmas. I'm thinking of you. Things are great here. Hope you're well. xxx'
Hi all,
I did the whole debating over Christmas cards this year and
decided “Nah. Email it is. Can send as much or as little info as I want
with the luxury of cut ‘n’ paste!” AND I can congratulate myself on
saving paper, not clogging up Australia Post and my Christmas wishes actually
reaching you BEFORE New Year’s.
It’s been a pretty huge year for all of us so I’ll keep things
down to the highlights. And look! I made them all pretty colours, just to
suck the eyeballs out of your head! You’re welcome.
For
those of you in a rush, here’s the short version: we got flooded, bought a
house, all moved in with a strange man (although I’m pretty sure he’s thinking
he moved in with a strange family), went to Canada, all got sick, lost a dog,
got a new one, The Princess changed jobs, Man-Child graduated high school, Ray of Sunshine stayed the same and we
all made it through the year with more or less our sanity intact!
For those of you with a hot cuppa and work to avoid, please go
ahead and check out the extended version:
January – It rained. We got stuck in Lennox Head. Had an
adventure trying to get home. Took the only available road in (dirt) in a
clapped-out, faded-red Nissan Pulsar (The Princess's) and only had to tell the kids
twice to “close your eyes and pray we make it through this wet patch ‘cause
Mummy’s gunning it!”. We got home in one piece to find the dog ok but
The Princess's room not so much. A few hours of cleaning and airing though and
it was fine.
February – Scored for my first Valentines’ Day with Woody. A
lovely Pandora bracelet and whisked away from Little Theatre rehearsals for
dinner at a fancy restaurant. Woohoo!
March – Soccer season started. I pulled a calf muscle and
spent a few weeks on the sideline. Ray of Sunshine turned (OMG!) 15 and had a
sleepover with four nerdy mates who took over the internet. Actually it’s
nice that he has some good friends to hang out with. He took up his
trumpet playing after 18 months of letting it get dusty in Yeppoon and the only
person more pleased than me was his music teacher! He’s a natural and no
longer sounds like an angry duck but an actual player!
April – After many weeks of looking for a house to buy together,
Woody and I found the perfect one. Were just checking it
out on a whim and was the only one the kids came to see as well. Walked
out and they whispered “You’re going to buy that, right?” Went to
Townsville to spend Easter with Woody's brother and sister in law and their 18
month old and had a great time. It was the first time that Woody and
I and the kids had gone away together and it was a laugh riot the whole way J What wasn’t a laugh riot was mucking around with the bank
over the Easter break trying to get our home loan done in time L
May – A HUGE MONTH. Moved in to the house,
officially living with Woody rather than across town. After an outstanding
success with my first directorial debut with Little Theatre (Inspector Drake
and the Black Widow), Woody and I jetted off to Canada for a 2 week holiday.
Spent most of it in and around Toronto and enjoyed THE BEST BIRTHDAY EVER
(kind of a joint one with Woody on 22nd, mine on 25th
May) at Niagara Falls. It was a wonderful day and totally made up for the
crap birthday I had the year before.
June – Back to reality and work. Sammy, our lovely Cocker
Spaniel, passed away at 15 years of age. She’d had a good run and we all
shed a few tears. Because there was no dog in the yard, a nasty beastie
got stuck into The Princess's cockatiel Sprinkles about 3am one morning. I heard
the flapping from bed and raced out to save him. He was shaken and
definitely stirred and whatever it was had chewed off the pin feathers to his
left wing. Brought the poor little bugger inside in the little travel
cage and went back to bed. Checked him about 6am and he was still
goggle-eyed. Watched a bit of the morning news with him nestled on my
chest and he’d nod off to sleep briefly only to jolt himself awake again.
Slightly paranoid for a while there but he recovered ok. After that,
would just hiss at you when you went to cover his cage after dark and always
slept right up in the middle top rung after that!
July – Scruffy, a mini foxy/crossed with something fluffy,
joined the Combination Crazy household. Small, cute, strong willed and seemingly
in possession of a death wish, he has certainly made his mark with Man-Child, who
loves nothing more than to sit out on the ‘dog couch’ (that he’s slowly but
surely eating!) and cuddle up with the little fluff ball. Scruffy sleeps
in the cubby house (akin to a doggy mansion) at night because otherwise he barks at
the moon, the leaves rustling, other dogs barking or simply the silence.
August – Man-Child turned 17 (OMG again!) and The Princess decided she was
not going to be an accountant anymore and started looking around for other
jobs. We were all sick, sick sick!! For about three weeks there was
nothing but groaning half-dead bodies littering the house with hacking coughs
puncturing the night hours! Haven’t been that ill since I had tonsillitis in
1998! Got pleurisy as a reward for not going to the doctors when I should
have and it took months for the pain in my right chest lining to fully
subside. I still get occasions where the ribs feel a little sore L
September – Err … let’s see … pretty sure that’s when the small
dog with a giant death wish started trying to dig his way to China via
the house behind the back fence where a dog roughly the size of Hagrid’s
wolfhound resides. No matter what I put under, on top of or in front of
the hole in the fence, he continued on his merry way … until I liberally
showered the area with Tabasco Sauce. That fixed the little bugger!
October – The Princess turned 20 (eek!) and had a week of parties.
She learnt from an early age how to make the most of a birthday towards the end
of the year! Woody and I went to Mackay for the annual Rangers 8-a-side
soccer competition weekend and both survived it with limited injuries.
Not only did I not hurt myself this year but I even made it five full games
without having to sub off and didn’t feel too bad at the end of it. (Told the
coach later that I mustn’t have run that much!) The Princess found a new job with a local building company, doing the bookkeeping. Loves it and apparently all the
tradies love HER! Of course they would – she is good humoured, good
looking and a good worker!
November – Purchased my first-ever bit of serous bling. In
August, we went to the Gemfest and Woody bought me a lovely trillion sapphire
(it’s a rounded triangle shape, if that makes any sense!) and while we were
there I saw some beautiful pieces of jewellery made by a German lady based in
Maleny. Together she and I designed a ring to fit the sapphire and 9
weeks later TA DA! It’s ridiculously expensive, being white gold, but I
totally love it! At first people thought it was an engagement ring
(steady on! It’s enough that we have a joint mortgage at the moment!) but soon
figured out it’s on the wrong hand. Totally extravagant but totally worth it
after years of feeling I didn’t deserve ‘nice stuff’. And most exciting
of all – MAN-CHILD GRADUATED HIGH SCHOOL! Didn’t think he was going to make it
there for a while but in the end, a little pushing and shoving and blubbering
tears on my behalf got him over the line. He looked most handsome too J Ray of Sunshine also was given the First Trumpet role for next year
with the Symphonic and Jazz Bands! Woohoo!
December – The Princess moved into her own ‘digs’ with a few mates – very
excited to see her spreading her wings but boy o boy, the house is soooo quiet
without her and her chatty little cockatiel here. We’re amping up for a
busy Christmas at the Combination Crazy house this year, with Woody's brother,
sister in law, mum, dad, aunties, uncles and a few soccer ‘orphans’ coming
along for Christmas lunch at our place. Then for New Years, the three
boys and I are flying down to Brisbane to go to the Roar game on New Year’s
Eve.
So
from all of us here in the Outback, we wish you and your loved ones a very
Merry Christmas and a safe and happy New Year!
Love
and kisses,
Library Girl,
Woody, The Princess, Man-Child and Ray of Sunshine
xxxxx
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
LinkWithin
