Archives for posts with tag: love

You might think that Fitty and I live in such a small town that we can’t have relationships outside of a 4 friend radius, but it’s really not like that… There are over 33 000 people in this area, comparatively few in worldwide terms, but large enough for the circumstances we shared to have an unusual synchronicity.

Fitty’s band played at my wedding to Catshit. I asked Fitty to be in charge of the music for the wedding ceremony as well, (he pressed play as I walked down the beach toward insanity).

We’d all remained friends. We didn’t visit each other any more the way we used to, but we still saw each other at functions and parties. As far as I know, nobody was holding any grudges..

I knew how OM felt because one night (just a few months into her relationship with Fitty), I went out to see a band and returned home with a group of friends to have a little after-party at home. My kid’s were with their father, and it was a fun night. Just a few friends, including OM. (Fitty must have had his kids as he wasn’t with her.)

OM and I for some reason decided that sitting under the table with our drinks to have a quiet chat was a reasonable thing to do, because alcohol.

We spoke about my feelings for Fitty. She asked questions, and I answered them. I asked questions, and she answered them. (We’re so fucking functional sometimes, her and I.) Anyway, I pretty much told her I was in love with her partner, but had kind of “got over it somehow really quickly”. I was being honest with her – this was exactly what had happened. I’d accepted the feelings and the reasons why they were never going to eventuate and then just pushed them aside and got on with life. Such a typical thing for me to do.

Have you ever been haunted by a song? You put some music on one day, some of your old fave’s by Carly Simon. (Some musical tastes you inherited from your older brother’s and sister’s growing up.)

A song starts to play, and although you’ve heard it many times before, all of a sudden it has a meaning that crushes the very centre of your soul?

I have.

(Lol at the pictures LOL! – it’s the lyrics I want you to listen to.)

When this song began to play I listened to the words and knew I had some deeply hidden feelings that I hadn’t paid any attention to. For fuck’s sake, there I was mourning my stupid loss of 5 years to Catshit, and suddenly I’m trying to process the Fitty thing again?

I’d been feeling a little vulnerable in the new house with the boys. I knew Catshit was out there somewhere, (and considering that he’d somehow gotten our last address from the electricity supplier!!), I wondered if we were safe. I’m pretty sure he drove by the house a lot, but apart from the odd nasty phone call and those sightings – he was quiet.

I began to relax.

I’d met some amazing girls at the Golf club working, and we often used to pop into the local pub after a busy Friday night shift to wind down with a drink and a dance. I had every second weekend free of the kids, and was enjoying my social life without Catshit’s constant jealousy and interrogation.

T, Donna and I headed out one night when Fitty’s band were playing. We caught up during a break and hadn’t seen each other for a long time. We hugged. Spoke briefly, and Fitty informed me that he and OM had split. I was really sad for them, but I didn’t dwell on the information. I didn’t really think about it. We’d all seen it coming.

I went home with the girls that night, and didn’t think about Fitty again until I played the song.

You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you how messed up my brain files are? I have boxes and boxes of files that are hidden away and chained together in the dark just waiting for their opportunity to surprise me. Sometimes I have absolutely no idea which box of snakes is going to winch itself onto the conveyor belt of my consciousness and present itself for opening?

When the file hiding all the Fitty inside opened during that song I was in full denial mode. “Yeah so you love him, and you didn’t really want to, but you do. Forget it! No more love.”

But I couldn’t deny the absolute misery I felt when I listened to Carly sing those words!

My internal dialogue was right. At the time the last bloody thing I needed was a relationship.

 Confession: I tried really hard to sleep around when I left Catshit. I even tried to have sex with one of my work mate’s who was a bit of a smooth operator. I thought “why not?” I’d been accused of everything under the sun anyway, may as well be guilty of something? ^^revenge slut^^

It didn’t go as planned and somehow work dude got me confused with a nail he was trying to hammer in. “Hell no! Outta my vag dude, like right now?” (Poor guy had to work with me for months afterwards…)

The other time I spent the evening spilling Bailey’s Irish Cream all over my duvet with a huge Maori man visiting from New Zealand. (Of course I was drunk!) Divorcee’s do some stupid fucking shit when they’re trying to wash that man out of their you know where!

We never even got it on – we laughed and drank and spilled drink and had a chaste kiss at 5am before he walked off into the sunrise…

It had been just six weeks since I had left my marriage, I was going out for the evening with the Golfie girls. We hadn’t planned on going to the local pub, but we ended up there anyway and of course Fitty was there with his band. The girls and I had planned to walk home to my place. Fitty offered us a lift. We invited him in for a drink.

I was being careful, (I was also drinking) and couldn’t help wondering what twist of fate had brought us together again, both single, both drained of any reason to want to love?

We spoke about our break up’s that night. There was a lot we didn’t know about each other. I was telling him about my messed up attempts at being a slut, joking and being honest with him. I said something like, “So all this slutting around and I still haven’t even had a proper root!”

“Please let me make love to you tonight?” Said Fitty like a freaking idiot!

What the hell? What the bloody, stinking, filthy, shitty hell kind of animal are you?

We fell upon each other on the couch, (the girls had long ago passed out), and I led him up the stairs to my bed.

I can’t even begin to describe that night. Every single part of us connected in an entirely different way than I’d ever experienced. We were both a little overwhelmed by the physical power of our connection, and just looked at each other in disbelief.

Fitty left his beanie behind, (a man will do that sort of thing when he’s not sure what’s next.)

Sure enough a few days later he called to organise to come “pick it up”. This was my opportunity to be strong and say so long, and thanks for all the sex. Instead we fell into a tangle yet again.

It took me six months to admit to Fitty that I loved him. He had told me he loved me in the beginning, and his reaction to my words made me laugh.

“OH no! Now it’s gonna get serious…”

He was quite happy to love me and have a casual relationship with me, as long as I was keeping my feelings restrained. After I told him I loved him, shit got real for him. He could be hurt again. He could be left behind again.

fitty and me-1

If you look through the window into our home today, you will see a couple grown comfortable with their love. We’ve been through some turbulent times and come out of them together.

We’ve weathered teenagers and bitter ex’s (FW) who wage an unfair war using their children. We’ve talked our way through some pivotal moments in our relationship, dealing with our insecurities and fears. We’ve grown a new family together which includes all of our children. They’re ours, and we’re damn proud of every one.

We had advantages. There is not a single person alive I respect more than Fitty, and I don’t have to ask him if he feels the same way because he shows me every day. That respect was built on many years of friendship and sharing. Our older kids grew up together as our younger ones do now, and all of them get along so well it actually surprises us.

We’ve done the sickness and the health, the good times and the bad. We’re still here, still in love and still happy!

I hope you believe in happy endings, because I can vouch for them. They’re real if you believe you deserve one.

Advertisements

There was a lot of talk around town about how Fitty and I got together, particularly among the oldies. (Hers, mine and ours.) I can only speak for myself and tell the truth about that. For the oldies in particular I’m sure the way events have unfolded has been substantial enough to correct past judgement.

How did two friends end up living together in domestic bliss with 8 children?

644497_490362311028400_1120803982_n-1

Our 10 year anniversary is coming up at the end of the month and I decided that our story was long overdue in the telling. We have a long history and although not all of the story is mine to tell, I’ve decided to do the fairest most honest and politically correct version to protect the people I want to protect, and an open slather style character assassination of those I don’t wish to protect.

Obviously nobody can have a real name so for the purpose of this story and the new characters being introduced here’s the code.

  • Fitty has 5 kids, I have 3 boys. 1-8 in order of age.
  • 1,2,4,7&8 are Fitty’s and 3,5&6 are my boys.
  • FW Fitty’s wife and mother of older children 1 2 & 4
  • OM other mother is 7&8’s mum
  • He who used to be is my kids dad 3,5,&6
  • Catshit is my ex-husband

You’re going to need the above code more than once, trust me! When I write a story about my life I find it very hard to keep up a comprehensive narrative, so forgive me if I forget to fill in some blanks here and there.

Fitty and I both carried a lot of baggage into our relationship, along with enough children to either make or break us. Times were pretty tough in the beginning.

Fitty and I have been good friends for a long time. I met him in late 1984 in Canberra where he was living with FW. My boyfriend at the time was a friend of his and suggested a weekend away with them. I spent the whole time admiring their relationship. They got along very well and were a beautiful couple. Fun to be with. I liked them a lot and was pleased to see them at various parties and events. Eventually they married and moved back to the area we all live now.

Around the same time Fitty and FW got married I was living in Qld with a stone cold maniac. We often traveled home to visit  our group of friends, 8 or so of us including Fitty and FW.

Note: There is more to the maniac story but I’m not ready… It pretty much all started there with him – the denial, depression, lack of self worth and direction that lead me to several other relationships which created the same feelings over and over. At least I was strong enough to leave eventually. A lot of women aren’t and are still dealing with those demons on a daily basis. My heart is heavy for those women as I know how hard it is to pick yourself up when you believe you are nothing.

Confession: One night when I was around 21, the maniac and I were home for Easter and I can remember staring at Fitty across the room and thinking very naughty thoughts... “God he’s gorgeous, she’s so lucky” thoughts. Not I’m going to fuck you thoughts. Years later we spoke about it, and Fitty said he remembers that night and feeling “awkward as fuck!” haha ^^not a slut^^

11989277_1044621145555982_1658108650_o-2

You would have stared at him too – Fitty (baby 1) and I – my last visit home before I moved back.

Over the years our friendships grew, and when I moved back home after fleeing the maniac followed by a brief and sweet affair with a young man who gifted me a love child (3) we became a tight knit group. FW became one of my closest friends and we spent a lot of time together during my first pregnancy along with Shaz  who was also one of the group. They were my baby daddies, accompanied me to birth classes, coached me through labor and were among the first to welcome 3 to the world. We helped each other raise our babies and young children, getting together up to 3 times a week as a group. We were very happy and close friends (which included a few of Fitty’s school mates and spouses.) I was the “single mother” under everyone’s wing. It was all perfect and perfectly innocent.

Before I became pregnant with my second child I did daycare and looked after Fitty’s kids. He would bring the younger two around for a whole day once a week. His eldest child 1 was already at school. I guess during this time Fitty and I became a lot closer. We used to have a coffee and chat on those afternoons when he’d pick the kids up. We have always gotten along well and Fitty was always first to offer his help when the kids and I had to move house or fix something around the house.

(He who used to be is not 3’s bio-dad but is considered in all ways his father) – By this stage I was living with my kids dad and there is no way I thought any inappropriate thoughts. I was flat out trying to sort truth from fiction in ‘talk around town’ about He who used to be. He was sleeping with his ex wife. He was sleeping with that girl at the pub. He was sleeping with anything that moved.. but had a logical habit of sleeping with those who lived on his route home from the pub.

I was devastated by his betrayal. I loved this man so much for almost no fucking reason that I can discern now. I was well entrenched in an abuse pattern by then and he was just another taker. We had a fairly rough time having the boys, a time in which we lost our baby son. It was the most vulnerable period of my life, yet he still found it easy to sleep around and leave me to cope with most things by myself. My friends were an absolute lifeline.

When baby 6 came along all things became a lot better for me, but not so much for He who used to be as I’d had a lot of time to think while I was in hospital (for months with premature 6.)

One of my fave photo’s….the baby has a black eye – courtesy of 5 who is oblivious to normal posing for the camera. There is a theme here, three of us are connected to the rest of the room, and two are in their own worlds!

I left him and shit hit so many fans at once it defies belief.

Over the years Fitty and FW had separated as well. She had a new boyfriend and she and I still saw a lot of each other. Fitty was fairly miserable and I saw a lot of him as well. I’d always spent time with them both separately as well as together so not much changed for me when they broke up, but I was devastated by their split. Theirs had always been a relationship I respected. I was upset for them and for the kids.

FW will tell you that an affair ended her marriage. I can confirm that – yes is was an affair that ended her marriage. But was it Fitty and I who wrecked her life? The truth is…

I reckon they’d been split for about 2-3 years when I turned 30. I had a birthday party. Fitty, FW and the new boyfriend were all there. FW and boyfriend bailed early, and Fitty, myself and some other parents put the kids to bed in the back bedrooms. There were lots of people drinking and many had decided to spend the night on the lounge room floor. I crawled into bed by myself around 3am.

Fitty gave me a pot plant for that birthday. Nearly 18 years later I still have that plant. It is the only plant I have ever kept alive for more than a few years.

Confession: At some stage in the wee hours Fitty crept into my bed and made awkward drunk love to me. I can remember being horrified and filled with lust at the same time. The following morning when I awoke to find he made a bottle of formula (as he knew I couldn’t breastfeed with booze boobs) and brought baby 6 and the bottle to hungover me in bed – then I knew I loved him. ^^shit slut^^

How horrible. What a mess. What had I done?


If you want to find out what happens next check back here tomorrow to find out:

Who the fuck is Catshit?

What happened with FW?

and

Why can’t I write a short story?

It’s been an exhausting and wonderful few weeks. And now it’s all over. Princess has gone, and I’m feeling empty and sad. I’m all alone here at the Lake today for the first time in forever. It’s a little weird to not have lots of people around actually, and I’m feeling quite dislocated. I miss Princess already. I know she’s busy continuing her travels, catching up with her kids up north, but I wish she was still here.

Magoo’s doing well, she has her moments of extreme sadness, but overall she’s such a strong lady, and she knows she’ll never be alone while she has us around her. But she’s adjusting to not having her partner, her one special person, her husband Pete in her life. I can’t imagine how broken that must make a person feel inside. She is truly an inspiration when it comes to dealing with pain and loss. We’ve had many laughs and many cries together these past weeks. Probably more laughs than tears, which is a good thing I think?

I’ve been so busy since Princess arrived. I imagined I would progressively blog her visit, but I didn’t count on being so busy and exhausted constantly. Magoo’s home is only 10 minutes drive from mine, and we have had 7 and 8 these past two weeks as well as having 4 and her very nice boyfriend here to stay. So for me it’s been a lot of driving to and fro. Staying over at Magoo’s and then coming home each day to make sure everyone had enough to eat here. (Not that Fitty isn’t capable of feeding everyone.)

We packed a lot into the time we had with Princess, she lives so far away and we don’t see her often. Lunches out, day trips to local beaches and long cuppa sessions at Magoo’s sitting around the table talking family nostalgia. Ending up doing things we never expected to do, like touring the local Orchid Show. I think I channeled a bit of Fitty and took about 50 photos of those beautiful flowers.

 

Look at all the Pretty!

20140816_142048 Look at all the Pretty!

I did get Princess to myself for 3 whole days and nights, and I am so truly grateful. During those days we were more than content to just sit at the Lake Shack and talk. Spending time together catching up on all the years we lost when we were younger, and didn’t get along quite so well. I have such a huge respect for Princess, the way she cares for us and for her insight into my personality and relationships in my family. She is one astute lady when it comes to achieving what she wants in her life. I can only hope that she’s rubbed off a little, (a lot) on me.

One particularly sweet thing that came of her time in our house was her bonding with 8. Those two hit it off like rockets. By the end of Princess’ first day with us, little 8 was enraptured. Literally laying at her feet on the couch totally absorbed in every word she said. She’s playful and kind, fun and loves games. What more could a young boy want in an Auntie? 7 was not quite as quick. She can be a little quieter and takes a bit more time to ensure she’s on safe ground before she dives into new relationships. They both loved having Princess around and really enjoyed playing board games and the sense of humour Princess brings with her everywhere she goes.

Princess is a Scrabble fanatic and was always up for a game. Enjoying helping the younger ones and thoroughly enjoying more competitive play with 4 and her clever man.

Scrabble again anyone?

Scrabble again anyone?

I took Princess for a walk to our favourite beach at the end of our road. We had a lovely walk and I will always treasure sharing this special family spot with her. The day was cold and windy, but the company was perfect.

The special beach

The special beach

 

There were so many wonderful moments during her stay with us. The funniest was when she asked me to read her “Carrot Tards”, (Tarot Cards, so named by Princess’s husband Mikey. L-OL!) What a hoot. I doubt the Tarot are meant to be a vehicle for humour and hilarity, but oh boy, did we have some fun with that reading!

One memorable thing we were able to do with Magoo was to fulfill a wish of hers. Her 25th Wedding Anniversary went uncelebrated a couple of years ago due to Pete’s ill health. The plan was for them to go away for a night in a flash hotel, go out to dinner and enjoy a huge buffet breakfast the following morning. Every time they even got close to creating a plan, Pete would fall ill, ending up in hospital, or some other medical/family drama would emerge preventing them from going. It’s so sad that they never got to celebrate the occasion together, but Magoo had a wish to do it with him in “spirit”.

We organised a night away in a lovely hotel in Canberra and went on a Mother/Daughter road trip. Imagine a car with 3 women, all talking at once…. I have no idea what we all said, not a mile passed in silence. We arrived and luxuriated in our surroundings. Coffee was required and taken in a lovely indoor garden.

20140824_151305

The plan was to head into the city for dinner. I had my doubts about how to decide where to eat based on history. Get 3 people together trying to make a decision about anything and see what happens. Usually there is one Alpha person who takes charge and decides what and where. We thought it would be easier to let Magoo decide on a place, as she is fussy and has more “requirements” than we do. Tablecloths for instance. Good service and appropriate language for another. One must never address Magoo and her dining company as “guys”, as one unfortunate server was to learn one day when Magoo and I had a light lunch in a local cafe…

“How are you guys doing? Do you need anything else?”

Enough to drive Magoo into convulsions! She’s not a “guy” ok?

So off we went for dinner, parking the car in a position I thought would be easy enough to locate again after extended wanderings in the labyrinth of Canberra Civic. Have you ever seen ants scurrying around trying to decide on a restaurant? No?

graphics-ants-961531

I imagine that’s what we must have looked like, but more bumping, deliberation and conversation. From one place to another, no one game enough to commit. Finally I had enough, was wearing my shoes out, and took matters into hand. We went to a lovely Italian place Fitty and I had been to once before, (with tablecloths), and there I encountered the most delicious dessert I have ever had. Strawberries and cream and puff pastry and Amaretto and Almonds and lush gooey sauce – demolished.

20140824_202654

Seven months pregnant by the end of the meal, I was not relishing the walk back to my car…. Car?… Where the fuck are we?

Filled with confidence in her ability to find the car, we followed Princess’s lead and headed off in entirely the wrong direction. I am a self confessed loser when it comes to these things, however it was my direction that saved us from walking an extra 3 blocks touring the “no car here district” Princess was leading us toward. My survival instinct had kicked in. I really didn’t want to walk any further than I had to.

The next morning we all enjoyed a huge breakfast. Magoo bringing a framed photograph of Pete along with her. We sat him (the photo) on the table and made sure to get him the sausages for breakfast he so looked forward to. There were some tears again, and some funny looks from fellow diners, but we all felt as if we’d done what we set out to do.

Later that day we put Princess on a train to continue her journey. Sobbing in the car Magoo and I lamented not running along the platform waving hankies, like they do in the movies. We wanted to, but a very emotional Princess wanted us to leave her there on the train and not extend the misery we were all feeling at parting.

Driving away from the station was sad and I felt so immediately bereft. I wanted this visit to go on and on.

So I sit here today, tears streaming down my face, and wish she was still here.

GOODBYE PRINCESS. May the days pass quickly til I see you again face to face, and may our Skype connection be reliable in between…

I am positively elated to hear that things are finally looking good for me. Pause and just let me say that again…….things are finally looking good for me!!

Fitty and I have returned from Sydney somewhat triumphantly this time. No tears of frustration. (Well a few, but that was mainly the Sydney traffic!!) And Fitty only cried for a minute…..he pulled himself together pretty quickly really.

My Surgeon has told me that I am looking good for a final operation on June 21st. Extraordinarily happy with this news, (even though it means taking another huge wack of pain and recovery time), it will mean that at some point in the future, God willing, I will be healed. Life will be normal again, provided I take care of myself and the problem doesn’t recur. Only time will tell.

I had begun to feel very negatively before my post-op visit to Sydney, as things seemed to be getting so much worse. One night I had a rather big bleed, and I stressed about returning to hospital. I knew once it stopped that I was ok. I really didn’t want to go back into hospital to be kept away from the family for yet another few days, when I could just stay home and monitor the situation here. So I went to the G.P instead, who actually agreed that I’d done ok in deciding not to go. I can look after myself well, and I do know what I’m doing after all these months.

I’ve also been suffering a little bit of increased pain these last few weeks. So when Fitty and I went into the Surgeons office, the last thing we expected to hear was, “Great, I’ve been waiting to hear that!”

Apparently increased pain and bleeding in my circumstance, are a good sign of healing. So finally my body has recovered enough for the surgical remedy.

Before I went away I told friends, family and workmates that I probably would get told once again, that I wasn’t ready for the surgery. I had no idea that my worsening condition was actually a good sign? So I have come back with good news and lots of positive energy. I jokingly told the guys at work, “so if you see me on the ground writhing in pain surrounded by blood? Great! I’m healing!”

To be honest, I can’t wait to reclaim my former life and energy levels. It’s been so hard these last 7 months. On the outside I look like a normal healthy person, (most days anyway), but on the inside I’m a mess of pain and conflicting emotions. I try not to let the pain show. I try and act as if nothing bothers me, and then sometimes I just let it all out in one big emotional burst. I can’t help it. The pain builds and builds until I go crazy, and I can no longer hide it inside. Luckily Fitty understands what I’m going through. I have explained to him how I hide the pain until it gets too much. He has been such a good support to me, but I think that because I put on such a good act, he sometimes forgets what I’m going through.

Having survived the past 7 months as a couple, I am pretty sure we  can handle anything together. We have already proven that 8 kids, 2 jobs (with totally conflicting hours), an impending renovation project, completely bitter ex’s and teenagers can’t hurt us! Not that I’m tempting fate to throw another challenge our way. I think we’ll have our hands full with the kitchen reno! I just hope he has enough patience left to get us both through those tough few weeks after the surgery!!

Lake shack living is pretty cruisy otherwise. The benefits of having a bitumen road are so major. I’ve stopped whining about the road dust everywhere and noticed a new demon in the house. The surface crap monster!

I swear this family is doing it on purpose. Have I mentioned my hatred of bobby pins on this blog yet? Can’t remember, but let it be known that if I find one more bobby pin lying around I may just explode!

7 uses them for some inexplicable reason, one or two at a time. But never at the same time. So they multiply around the house until they are laying on every available surface! Why oh why can she not just put them on the dressing table or vanity at night, and use the same ones again the next day? It’s not rocket science?

Plus there’s the every day crap. Lego pieces. Magnet toys. Print out this piece of crap from the computer and use all the tape we have to stick it together toys. I could go on and on, but I think you get the drift. Fitty and the kids don’t put their  crap away!

Today I have left notes around the house. Simple messages like. “Hi. I’m a FRUIT bowl. So don’t put your freakin crap in me!” Also, “STOP! Don’t put that buttery knife in here!” (This one is on the vegemite jar.) I drew the line on a note for the crumbie butter container. You just know sometimes which fights are un-winnable.

Sometimes I just want to take a break from life, you know what I mean? Just go to sleep for a few days or weeks and wake up refreshed and full of new ideas and energy.

NOT going to happen.

I’d just gotten through a fairly rough week, (sobbing in the night from pain), dragging myself off to work on days when I probably would have been better off in bed, when things just got a whole lot worse. My brother has had a heart attack and been flown to Canberra hospital 3 hours away!! I’m right now trying to decide what to do. If I was a “normal” person, it wouldn’t be a hard one. Off I’d go. But trying to balance whether traveling right now, and being away from major comforts, (like my bath, and Fitty) is going to benefit anyone, least of all myself. It just isn’t easy.

Last week I made the decision to stop “toughing it out” and to take the painkillers when I need them. A huge decision for me. Up until now I have been putting up with a fair bit, I don’t know who I was trying to be a hero for, as all I was doing was suffering really. Part of the reason was so that I wouldn’t become “dependent”, but I realized that I was only hurting myself. Nobody was really benefiting from my being in pain, and no Hero Badges were being handed out. Yet still I struggle with the idea of taking narcotic pain relief.

It strikes me funny that my Doctor quotes the line, “pain not responsive to non narcotic relief”. It’s like “pain” is a live animal. Some kind of monster that can’t be coaxed into submission by just poking a “normal” pain relieving stick into its cage. We have to use the strong sticks to move this little monster.

I know I make jokes, but after 5 months, I find the situation requires either humour or gunshots.

Not every day is super bad. Some are ok. Trying to work out how I would cope if I go to Canberra Hospital to take my turn sitting by my brother’s bedside is harmful to my brain right now. I’m really stuck.

I want to go. I keep thinking of the “what if’s” and realising that I’m 3 hours away already!!

What if he doesn’t make it? What if they do a by-pass operation? What if Mum needs me? What if I don’t go and he dies? I’m going insane, but this post is helping me to get it all out and ultimately I will make a decision. Just please God let it be the right one?

My brother is a Quadriplegic. He has been in his chair for 23 years now. The risks of him undergoing surgery are obvious. Especially as this heart attack was brought on by recent (2 days ago) surgery on his big toe.

He’s so wasted. Like a skeleton with skin. He’s got spirit though, by the bucket loads. He will do whatever it takes to make sure he fights strong. I just worry that he doesn’t have the strength to win anymore.

I need to ring 4. If I go I will need to stay with her. She will kiss away the ouchies when I get home at night. She will “make tea”. A ceremony for us that will repair all hurts and return strength to limbs and brains!!

I think I have made my decision. I think I must go. I can’t sit here worrying about not going can I? The answer is to go and not worry about not going? Yes? It makes sense to me. At least we can be together as a family when Pat goes into surgery. We can form a human chain of support for Pat and for each other.

Yes. That’s good. And if it hurts too much, I can always come home, can’t I?

Thanks for your help, good people of Blog Land.

5, around 10 months.

5, around 10 months.

My gorgeous boy began to grow big, crawl around the floor, and feed a little less from me. Around this time I had a bit of a health crisis, was visiting my quadriplegic brother P and his wife to be J, and collapsed on their lounge.

The doctor was called, and I was told I should really stop feeding. 5 had stripped me of all my reserves, and I felt giddy and faint all the time. I could barely keep up with my two young boys, and I considered this pretty good advice. My sister in law J was a god send, she spent the next 2 days attending to my children, while I snored on their lounge. I really needed the rest, and she loved my boys like her own. I will never forget the help she gave me when my  children were young. She had 3 girls, and I expect she loved the different energy of my boys. I know they all love her dearly, and they share a very special bond today.

J had a lot of trouble initially getting 5 to take a bottle of formula, and seeing as I was passed out on her lounge, wasn’t getting a lot of help from me. Sometime in the afternoon of that first day he was so distraught she brought him to me and had to hold him to my breast herself, as I was so exhausted. Now that’s support! I have never known a more devoted Aunty than J. She eventually, she says, at some point in the night got 5 to take some formula in a bottle. He just got so hungry he had no choice! (I’ve had to stop writing this post to send J a message of thanks and love, re-living this time has made me aware all over again, just how much I relied upon her support and love.) If every woman had a friend or sister-in -law like J, the mothering world would be a better place.

I still fed 5 morning and night, I couldn’t take that away from him all at once, but I think we were both ready to give up the all day long demand feeding, it just took a while to convince him of that. I used to love those early morning cuddles and feeds, and I really enjoyed when he would crawl over to me at night, pull himself up on my chair and demand to be picked up for his night time cuddles and feed. He was so gorgeous with his big brown eyes, and his long eyelashes. His chubby little cheeks and rosebud mouth. He got used to having a bottle too, and would throw it around the room, usually behind the furniture, when he was finished. I suspect he was trying to hide it from me so I would be forced to feed him myself!

His reflux began to repair around the 10 month mark, and the full nights of sleep began. He who used to be and I didn’t know ourselves. We began to have a life again.

I also discovered I was expecting our third child. We were thrilled….

Let it be known to all of parenthood. Breastfeeding is NOT a foolproof method of contraception!! I should know, I was doing it 24/7 for months and I still fell pregnant!! But we were happy, I just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

I was right, and in the end my third son was stillborn at 25 weeks. I will elaborate on this story  in future, but for now will simply say that poor baby 5 was caught up in a whirlwind of emotion. He didn’t understand what was happening, whereas my older son, at the tender age of 5 years, was to become a brilliant support for his mummy.

He adored his younger brother by now, now that he could walk and was saying simple words. 3 was amazed at the difference in his brother, and would often remark how good it was now that the baby wasn’t crying all the time! Boy did I agree….

The boys had a great time together, and when their dad built them a sand pit in the back yard, that was the place to be. Every day they would push their little trucks around, pouring sand and building things. They rarely fought as littlies. It was only later, when 5 learned to talk properly and take 3’s toys, that things began to get curly for them.

5 was a bundle of energy, a regular little crazy man. He would often pretend he was a motor bike and roar around the house and yard making appropriate noises. He spoke with a very deep southern American accent?? I have absolutely no idea why, it was just the way he spoke. He used to crack us up frequently as one of his favorite things was to have ice  cubes in his drinks in a cup. He would ask his Auntie J, “can aaah haaave suuum aaaace?” (Can I have some ice?)

He LOVED his Auntie J so much, was always sitting on her knee or telling her a story, but one day he astounded us all when he roared up beside her, (pretending to be a motorbike again), and said in a loud voice, “J, you’re the motor for my kiss” He was 2 and a half years old for god’s sake!! I am profoundly at a loss to explain his behavior, then or now…

I still to this day do not know where this child got his language skills from. Sure he watched television, but only Playschool and Sesame Street and such. I really don’t know whether he may have absorbed the dialogue from TV shows such as”Friends”, (all those long nights of watching TV and feeding??) Whatever the case he was hilarious.

He who used to be would host music nights, and his friends would come bringing their musical instruments and microphones. Enter 5 at about 2 years old, singing his own words and melody into the mike, “well you’re my baby, and I looo-uuu-ooove you–u-00000h”. Like a 2 year old Elvis! What’s worse, is that he showed more musical talent at 2 than most of his father’s guests!

Full of fun at 2 and a half.

Full of fun at 2 and a half.

He was a magical mystery ride that kid. At 5 when he started school, he was just like his older brother, no time for kisses goodbye. Make way for me because here I come! He was loud, he was fun, and he was very confident. 5 had an imagination you just couldn’t fathom. He once told me he had ridden his motorbike up into the sky, bumped into a cloud, rode down a rainbow and that was why he didn’t come when I called him for dinner. Later on in around 2nd grade I worried about his ability to stretch the truth.

He had asked a school friend over for a play date one afternoon. Once he had been dropped off, the wide eyed child approached me excitedly and asked “do you really have a whale in your backyard?” It appeared that 5 had told him so, and the poor gullible child believed him. The fun never stopped with 5, he was always getting into trouble at school, talking in class, showing off, telling big whoppers. I never knew what was coming next.

One thing I can say about 5 is that from very early in his life, he was given what he wanted. His acid reflux made it impossible for me to ignore his cries, and I attended to him immediately every time. I have since spoken to many mothers of babies with reflux, some of them as severe as 5’s and some not so severe. We all agree that our “reflux babies” were our most “difficult” children. My sister had a daughter with reflux who is just a few months older than 5. She is very similar in her dramatic ways and her inability to be told or take “no” for an answer.

In giving in to every need my baby had. In not ever letting him cry in pain, I created a child with a sense of entitlement. A feeling that whatever he wanted at any given time, should immediately be given to him. On a positive not I also raised a very confident boy who knew his mummy loved him.

As 5 grew he became harder to handle, often fighting for more freedom than I was comfortable giving him. When he was 13 years old he broke my heart by leaving me to live with his father. I was devastated. For the first time in my life, I didn’t know how to cope. I was so worried about him, he had chosen a life style that was no good for him at all. He was smoking and drinking and running around town at night. I never knew where he was, or what he was up to. Who he was with became a nightmare, as I imagined the worst possible scenarios. His father had a different approach, and gave him more of a free range. Neither of us could control what 5 was up to. We were both powerless and yet I tried to blame He who used to be for all the problems. It wasn’t anyone’s fault it was just a teenager acting out.

13 years

13 years

Thankfully 5 had one good influence that he would actually listen to during this time. His girlfriend.

5 and The Lovely One deep in thought...

5 and The Lovely One deep in thought…

kim and jake hugging

5 shares his free time, with The Lovely One, his girlfriend of 4 years!! They met at high school and have the most adorable relationship. I often say, if I had to go out and shop for a girlfriend for my son, I would have brought this one home. She is everything a mother wants for her son. Beautiful, loyal, soft, giving, loving, funny, natural, adorable, cute, and very very cheeky! I just love a cheeky kid!

One of The Lovely One’s cheeky habits, is to take your phone or iPad while you’re not looking and take “selfies” on it. Then she sets those photos as your screensaver. You pick up your phone next time and there’s a goofy photo of The Lovely One staring back at you. She absolutely bombed Fitty’s iPad one night, putting heaps of photos on it. We don’t know how she does it, in our tiny house, it’s not like you can get away from everyone? One sneaky little girlfriend that one! We love her, and she has become such a part of our family we can’t even think about hosting a family occasion without her. Her and 3’s girlfriend the Nut are included naturally.

I often wondered how The Lovely One stuck by 5 when he was at his worst. I know that there was always another side to him. A sensitive side, a loving and playful side. And he definitely puts across the “strong, manly vibe” that maybe a young girl would look for. But I honestly thought for a long time, that she was entirely too well behaved and nice to put up with some of the “gansta” behavior 5 was exhibiting.

5 at the mixing desk. Some dubious good times?

5 at the mixing desk. Some dubious good times?

5 my darling boy, you ended up being quite ok. Having been there and done that at such an early age, you are now showing signs of becoming a very responsible, loving and reliable member of not only our family, but of your community as well. You perhaps just need to learn your limits a little better, and stop worrying your poor mother and girlfriend to death!

I have every faith that you will outgrow your need to push the limits, and that you will settle into a peaceful life. A life filled with love, for you really are made for love you know darling? Your empathy and compassion know no bounds, and you have always shown an extra sensitivity in life that tells me you are destined for something very special. Perhaps one day you will help teenagers such as you were. You would make a superb counselor, with the life experience you have had.

I love you young man, and have many hopes for your future.

True Love

True Love


Spectacular, stunning, beautiful, gorgeous, amazing, how else can I describe this beautiful girl. Our Bride V was a most exquisite sight coming down her grassy aisle to meet her handsome Groom. Was there a dry eye in sight, probably, but I couldn’t tell from the water threatening to spill from my own eyes as I watched this procession of beauty approach the destination at which they would become forever joined.

Tribute was fairly paid to the fact that V and 2 were already a well established family, and also to the fact that they presented with extraordinary strength. After all 2 has been to Afghanistan with the Australian Army, and our gal V has waited faithfully and passionately for the chance to wed her man, patiently keeping the home fires burning for their two adorable children.

It isn’t often that someone so young inspires in me the kind of praise that V deserves. I really do respect the way she lives, the patience with which she raises her children, and the calmness she has shown in the face of the various challenges thrown her way. I just have to say she is one of the most impressive young women I have ever had the good luck to meet, and I get to be her, wait for it, “Step-mother-in-Law”, for all the days left of my life.

The whole Wedding Day was beautiful. The week had been rainy and cold, but the clouds broke and the sun shone for our two, just in time to make the afternoon so warm and perfect, which was lucky as all our dresses were strappy or strapless. We really  couldn’t have asked for nicer weather. The wind blew our hair around a bit, but also stirred up a nice cool breeze for the boys in their three piece suits.

The Reception was lovely. Mouth watering canapes kept on coming and the entree and mains were delicious. Lots of fun was had by all of us, and there were many tears throughout the speech of the Bride’s sister. (I actually thought our eldest girl, 1 might need a drip to replace some liquid as she cried so much during her brother’s speech.) It must be hard being the eldest child and watching your little brother being so grown up and responsible.

gorgeous babies, down the aisle.

gorgeous babies, down the aisle
kids at wedding
8 and 1 followed by 4 and 7

7 and 8

7 looked so grown up

vick and wally

Stunning V never a more beautiful bride

I was so proud of our brood, they all had such a wonderful night, dancing and laughing together. Fitty snapped photos most of the night, and the kids and I partied on the dance floor. (Yes I took lots of pain killers for the opportunity to live a little normally for once.) I wasn’t alone as Fitty’s poor sister had come down with a bug and was feeling miserable.

No problems, everybody happy and only one or two cases of illness. I feel a little rushed writing this and would like to say so much more, but I really need to get to work, and I have lots of things to organize this week. Another trip to the local surgeon, as I have had a minor setback, and may need a little operation while waiting for my big operations! So typical of my life right now, I”m not even going to tell you how I feel about that!

I also need to finish my tributes to our children. I am exactly half way through and up to number 5, which I can promise will be a very entertaining and dramatic read.

Also now that the Wedding is behind us, the next big thing will be our kitchen renovation. I have only been waiting for about 5 years, so that will be most exciting…..If it EVER HAPPENS!

5and the lovely one, the nut and 3. 7 next to 6 and I, and 8 squatting in front. Nearly all of us!

5and the lovely one, the nut and 3. 7 next to 6 and I, and 8 squatting in front. Nearly all of us!

Well, I’ve been a little busy lately. I’ve been crying and bitching and scolding and despairing and basically being a big pain in the you know where. Fitty and the kids are copping a fair bit of fall-out from my poor health at the moment.

Having found out in Sydney that the month of April (and beyond), will probably be more painful than I can handle, I have gone into shock/horror mode and am turning into a ranting bitch psycho the likes of which my family have never seen. One minute I’m fine, the next I’m crying. I can be led into rants that last for an hour simply because I find a bobby pin on the floor! If anyone challenges me they can look forward to a good old fashioned ear bashing. “No one understands me”, “nobody really cares whether I have to crawl around on the floor picking up their crap!” “Can’t somebody just once, listen to what I say?” etc. I just go on and on…….

Why? Because I said so, that’s why!

But really I expect it’s because I am running from a truth that I can’t accept. I’m stuck with a chronically painful problem. I need surgery that makes me wish I could just go through a really difficult breach, posterior labor for 36 hours or so, because that at least has an END, with a lovely baby attached. That’s just how I feel. This kind of pain should lead to a baby, call it conditioning…..  really excruciating pain = labor = baby! At some point there has to be a significant end point.

I honestly don’t know how I’ll cope with the pain, if how I’m coping with the fear is any indication?

To be fair, I have also halved and sometimes quartered my daily pain relief for fear that when I really need them in April, they won’t be as effective. (I will already have built up an intolerance to them therefore requiring me to take more and more when the pain load increases.) Obviously withdrawing from any narcotic drug is going to make me feel a little confused, airy, emotional, angry, sweaty, outraged, desperate etc. These are just a handful of the things I am feeling at this time. Then I have to counter that with the pain. Over the course of the last 5 days I have been cutting down I have had increased pain, each day getting more sharp and nasty.

All this stuff is new to me, I’m no expert on pain control/relief and have been told (by a doctor), that cutting down my pain relief “would be a good idea at this point”.  Scarey stuff when I have to take into account that I am withdrawing from opiates, whilst trying to wrap my head around next month’s approach to cutting me open to help me “get better” all while my pain increases to unbearable levels! To put it bluntly I’m a bit of a mess right now. But an honest one.

We have a big family Wedding this weekend, I want to be well and happy for that day if  for no other. I know I will pull myself together, and despite having so many people around to help organize and get ready, this busy, happy time will actually help me to feel more positive. I long to watch this beautiful girl wed this wonderful boy!! We have all been waiting for this day for a very long time.

I know I will have to take deep breaths and not let things get to me. I have to remember not to let the stress get on top of me, and the key will be organization, FITTY!! BOYS!! I hope you are reading this. I need all the help I can get right now!! Don’t be coming to me with buttons off shirts 5 minutes before we get in the car, oh and by the way, 7 and I will be at the hairdressers getting all de-stressed and dolled up by 10am, so you will be on your own….good luck.

Fitty has and always will be my biggest support, but at the moment I feel so removed from him. It’s funny as I have never had a moment in our entire friendship or romantic life together that I haven’t felt him rock solid beside me. I guess my illness is shaking him up a bit and he says he feels like he can’t make a “right” move. It’s true too. I am attacking him for silly things that I would normally blink at. I’m super sensitive to everyday struggles and issues. Every mistake anyone makes is like a personal insult and I cannot help thinking, why would you do that, now when I really need you not to stress me? It just goes with the territory of intense pain and anxiety control. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not looking for sympathy, I have that in bucketloads from my wonderful friends and family. I guess I just wanted to take the time to explain how it is for some people. Sometimes life throws you these little curve balls, I’m hoping that when this one is finished breaking me down, it will end up making me stand taller and be more capable.

To Fitty and my close family if you’re reading, I’d like to say this: I’m sorry if I have hurt, confused, or angered you lately, caused you frustration or concern. I’m terribly conscious at the moment of all the little things that could go wrong and I’m obsessing on them instead of focusing on my pain. If you feel like saying something to me, please do so?

The truth is I am not perfect! I’m just doing the best I can……I love you all.

Oh yes I do! From the moment I saw her chubby little face and her thick head of glossy black hair. She was so adorable, like a little fat doll. She grew more and more doll like every day, such a perfect little face, her features so tiny and skin so porcelain! I used to just stare into her face. Everyone was enamored with little 4. She was just that kind of baby, the kind that got attention wherever she went.

like a baby doll

Just like a baby doll

I used to look after her and her brother (2) quite a bit. Each week on Wednesday they would arrive for the whole day, giving their mother a break and giving 3 a couple of playmates for the day. 4 was the shyest little thing too, her face would press into my shoulder whenever anyone spoke to her. She wanted to be carried around a lot, and of course who could deny her that?

4 spoke in the most timid, soft voice, you really had to strain to hear her, and when she did speak loud enough, I often needed 2 to translate. One word I knew just from sheer repetition, and that word was “wa-wa”. This meant she wanted a drink of water, and believe me, this toddler could drink some water. All day long, “wa-wa, shanku?” I was so in love with her, and so proud whenever we went to town. We would often walk down to town the four of us, just for something to do. We’d have a juice at the coffee shop, and meet up with friends. I simply loved to show her off! She was so shy she would never venture away from my knee, whereas 2 and 3 would try to run amok whenever they had a chance.

After many months of coming to my house on a weekly basis without her parents, she began to relax a bit and would play rough games with the boys, but they were always pretty careful with her, as I said, she was tiny, and looked like a china doll! They were so afraid they’d hurt her.

I’ll never forget looking after that little girl, something about her really struck me. I was pregnant with 5 by then, and I longed for a little girl just like her! We formed a precious bond then, one that came in very handy for me later in our lives, when things weren’t quite so easy for us.

1 and 2, with tiny 4 in front.

1 and 2, with tiny 4 in front.

I lost contact with both Fitty and his ex wife around the time when their marriage split up, and for various reasons, we all went our separate ways. Our very close friendship had ended. (Little did I realize then what the future would hold?)

After years of heartbreak and loss, Fitty went on to have 2 more children with his 2nd partner, 7 and 8’s mum. Whom ironically I have also known since she was about 8 years old, (being the daughter of one of my partner’s friends.) Small towns….

Fitty and I would occasionally see each other around, but it was awkward, things had changed and we were no longer the people we were in our first partnership’s having our young families together. I rarely saw his children, but when I did they were withdrawn and shy. It hurt me to have no contact with them. Especially little 4 who I was so fond of.

Fast forward several years, and Fitty and I  (both single and not looking for love at all!) ran into each other on a rather random night out. We kept seeing each other out at various venues, until finally, we became partners. Things moved very slowly for us as we both prioritized our children. Weekends were for the kids, and late week-nights were for us. We went back and forth for years, spending nights at each others houses until finally, I had only 6 left at home, and we decided to move in together. It made sense. I was sick of driving back and forth and so was Fitty.

Stunning at 14/15

Stunning at 14/15

At the same time a 14 year old 4, was struggling with her relationships at home with her mother, and had decided to move in with Fitty too! I talked to her about whether she’d prefer if I didn’t move in, and she said she was fine. I’m fairly sure now, that she wasn’t fine with my moving in at the time, as she was a little distant and cold for a time. Slowly she began to thaw, and I expect the fact that I never pushed her helped a lot. I just sat back and waited for her to come to certain realizations, and she did!

I was rewarded with a most wonderful friend and stepdaughter. Together we shopped and gossiped, watched endless SATC and Friends re-runs, snuggled on the couch with cups of tea. Dreamed and talked of our pasts, futures and other interesting things…We got to know each other all over again, and I just know that bond I made with her as a baby and toddler was what made it so easy for me to get through the tough times we had. I simply loved this girl, and nothing was ever going to change that.

photogenic 4

photogenic 4

4 is a very crafty girl. Her attention to detail and artistic skill are amazing. She creates wonderful things, from personalized Birthday cards for every family member, to pretty drawings, bags and clothing. She is a talented dress-maker, her major work for her Higher School Certificate blew my mind with it’s creativity and excellence. She’s a girlie girl, (finally!), and is always dressed impeccably and styled beyond mere mortal status. I fail to see how anyone could be so beautiful without magic! She loves to dress up, and her father loves to photograph her, she is a natural photographic model. Actually, all our kids are, they all seem to be naturals in front of the camera.

I know that one day I will see her name on a label. I just need to be patient and wait until she has done all the things she wants to do first. I  am hoping all roads will lead her back to her incredible talent. You just can’t ignore talent like that!

4 I love you dearly, you are the closest thing I have to my own daughter, while being my very best friend. I am so proud of the way you have handled yourself since you left us. You’ve come a long way from the girl who was too afraid to answer the phone! Look at you now, Managing a Menswear Shop! I bet you have to answer the phone all day long?

I will always be here for you, no matter what you need. You can count on me. I love you my darling girl.

A cupcake for my cupcake?

A cupcake for my cupcake?

I’ve been searching and searching, and yet I still can’t find MY Fitty! He is definitely in there somewhere, it’s in his eyes, every now and then a calm descends and there he is trapped behind that manic glare. Please oh please God, let him out!!

Seriously, I can’t take it any more. We are all exhausted just from watching him speed around!

I know I shouldn’t complain, after all, didn’t I just want him to stop being so cranky? Wasn’t that all I asked for? It’s been weeks since he’s been cranky, but this other whizzie fast guy is making my head spin. I can’t take another day of this madness.

My Fitty used to wake up slowly in the morning, and lovingly greet me with smiles and kisses. This other dude is long out of bed by the time I wake up, he’s already banged and crashed his way through the kitchen, raked the leaves off the driveway, checked and re-checked the weather report against his own weather predictions, ( he is ALWAYS RIGHT!!), and is standing at attention waiting for the rest of his family to awaken and take their orders for the day! There we all are rubbing the sleep from our eyes, yawning and stretching as we receive instructions from Fitty on “How To Live Our Lives”.

Fitty has always been a bit this way. I can remember numerous occasions where I’ve been so amused by his antics I could scream! For instance there was the time he bought a new straw broom. He was very proud of the broom, (as men are when they have been domesticated enough to notice that the old one is basically just a grass stem on a stick). He came downstairs one morning to find me sweeping the concreted area under our house. He watched me for a total of a second before telling me how I should do it “properly”. Of course I instantly fell in a grateful heap (yeah right!), and didn’t threaten to re-home the broom anywhere uncomfortable or anything like that! Not me, I simply stated that I was so glad I finally had someone in my life who could teach me how to sweep. Oh  Joy! Finally, after 37 years of life, raising my young family, cooking and cleaning, working and paying bills, someone could show me how to do it all “properly”.

Fitty recognized my tone and instantly ran for the hills! He knows how to interpret my sarcasm! “Has he learned anything over the years” you ask? Not really, so far he has taught me a wealth of useless information that I will never need, like:

1:  How to tell which direction the wind is blowing. Apparently this knowledge could save my life, as far as I can see it just isn’t that important. (If it’s blowing one way, it’s a hot day generally, and if it’s blowing the other way, it can be a bit windy and cold.) I always get it wrong anyway. “The wind does not ever blow in a south- easterly- north direction!” I am told sternly by Fitty.

2: How to find and identify constellations in the night sky (plus a lot of other crap about space). If I wanted to do that I would be a NASA Astronaut Fitty! Not a mother and hospitality worker!! The number of times I have mentioned how pretty the night sky is, and how bright the stars seem tonight, only to be lectured for an hour and a half about astronomy! Where is the romance Fitty? Can’t you just say “Mmm, isn’t it lovely outside tonight?”

3: Don’t even get me started about computers!! I only have to ask one tiny little question. One little thing that I need to know to help me finish a particular project. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have to, believe me. Because every single time I do, I regret it! My head is absolutely brimming with so much technical information that I cannot move for fear of hitting the wrong key!  “You cannot fit 50 megabytes on a 10 gig ram”.  WHAT in the world are you talking about Fitty??

I could go on, but you would get very worried and call the authorities. Oh the cruelty! To be forced to learn things one just doesn’t want to know!

He is still wonderful. I still love him with all my heart, (and then some), he is still the best father I’ve ever known, and makes other husbands look like Boxing Day Specials in torn packaging! However I just wonder where he’s gone? Also if it isn’t too much trouble, can he come back now please?