Depression Blab

This is just a post about my personal experience with depression and how I now manage it. Not particularly interesting unless you have experienced depression but I am going to mention it anyway.



There is a strong history of depression in our family. I most likely had it as a child and worked around it for years until I had a child at 33 and experienced serious post natal depression which was diagnosed when my boy was 8 months and I was place on anti depressants. One of the reasons I did not have another child was because I was told that I had a high risk of experiencing post partum psychosis and I was not prepared to go down that track. I did not feel I had it in me to make the journey back. Sometimes I regret that decision, but mostly I accept it as the one right for me.


Depression has a lot of media coverage and this is a good thing. However, unless you have been down that track or had someone close to you experience depression I do not think you can appreciate how difficult it is to live with.


There are different types of depression of course, so I can only speak from my own experience which is having had a major depressive episode and also chronic depression. It is not something that goes away, it is something I manage. It is never far away and whilst I am not on medication, and have not been for almost three years, I work at it pretty much all the time.


It is not always about feeling sad. It can be like being an outsider to the world, being a third person, feeling flat, having severe anxiety, being unable to get out of bed, being unable to have a shower, go out the front door etc. Crying at the drop of a hat, misinterpreting what people say or mean, feeling over sensitive to people, noise or even wind. Panic attacks. Confusion. Feelings of low self worth. Anger, irritability, hostility and impatience. The only way I could possibly describe it it to compare it to the worst possible PMT only 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 52 weeks per year.


I have been on all sorts of medication. They do help initially. The idea of going on anti-depressants is to give your brain a break from the way it has learnt to process information. The analogy I was once given was to imagine a herd of cows going to have a drink of water each day. They go the same way, day in and day out and leave a deep groove in the grass on the way to the water. One day someone puts a fence in front of the groove and the cows have to find a new way to get to the water source. That is the problem of the mind. It gets in a groove that is not always good and needs help getting out. But once it is out of the groove, you have to make sure it does not fall back in.

Advice like "pull your socks up", "be grateful for what you have", "what have you got to be depressed about", "it's all in your head"(Duh!), "you are selfish" just don't cut it. Depression is not always a choice and you really do see the world in a different light.

When I first went on anti-depressants the effect was almost immediate - that is, within a week I felt this enormous weight lifted off my shoulders. I looked around at my surroundings and realised that this feeling must be what a normal person feels like. It was almost surreal. I was able to do things without confusion. I was able to get out of bed, have a shower, put on my make up, eat breakfast and do things quite smoothly.

Of course, I had to change the habits of a life time, I had to teach my brain how to think differently, learn how to react to situations and, most importantly, I had to eventually learn to accept my limitations.

Here is how I manage depression.

Ciao

LC

Husband

I thought I should mention my husband as I have one and think he warrants a bit of a blab.

I met my husband when I was 23. He was ten years older. He came into the furniture factory my family had and there I was in a black dress covered in sawdust.

We married when I was 27 after I asked him to marry me about 3 times every week for four years and then he said okay when he realised that I had actually asked him for possibly the last time. I was living on my own and said "My lease is running out on the flat, either we get married or you get lost". So he thought he better make the move. We were married up in Cairns in a registry office with two witnesses, no family. It took me a long time to get used to being with another person in the same house as I had live on my own for seven years - it took me longer to work out what being married was really about.

We have been married for almost 17 years.

Everyone loves my husband. My mum says that if we ever get divorced that she wants custody of him. Which implies I am not a nice person, I am but it comes across differently and those who know me think I am kind and caring.

He plays piano, double bass, tuba and sousaphone and does all of the musical activities on a professional basis (weekends and evenings). He plays at weddings, funerals, corporate events and parties. He has played every New Years Eve since I have known him - bar one. In the weeks leading up to Christmas he will play up to six gigs on a weekend starting on the Friday night and that is why S and I spend so much time together. He plays mostly Jazz and Standards and has a repertoire of about 200 songs he keeps in his head. Hence the reason we make our son play piano.

But music is not the ideal money maker, so during the week he has his own business which is installing telephone systems and pabx's etc to offices etc.

He has always had a classic car in the garage to tinker with. He also restores vintage pushbikes. At the moment he has a 1968 Rover P5B coupe in the garage which is in for the long haul as far as tinkering goes. He loves having interests and when he has not, he is most annoying, to say the least.

He is a good foil for my personality. And vice versa. I am sure I have given him some grief over the past twenty years but something must be right because here we are and both happy. Although it took me longer to work out how to be happy without being frightened by the opposite of happy, which is sad. That is a whole other story and nothing to do with him.

He is respectful of my personality traits and my need to be alone, he has supported me greatly during bouts of fairly major depression (which I manage very well now) and is finally, after so many years, learning how to behave when I have pmt. Along with that, I have also learnt how to present myself during difficult times.

He is much more sociable than me and says our lack of social life is my doing and he may well be right. He is tidier than me. He is an outstanding son. He has always looked after his parents so well. His mother died about three years ago from complications from Alzheimers and his dad is in a nursing home after a stroke he had last year.

He likes that I am extremely independent compared to the average female as he likes to feel that if something happened to him I would cope. Although, yesterday I rang him three times to get directions to get out of the city because I cannot read a street map very well, so perhaps there are some areas in which I am not so independent. I suppose I could get a GPS, but I prefer him to tell me over the phone how to get around town.

He never said the "F" word before he met me. He came from a peaceful family who gave him no grief in his child hood. I came from the opposite. But it appears to have all worked out.

Most of the time he drops S off to school and picks him up and therefore spends more time with him in a month that most fathers ever get to spend with their children in a year. S tells me he would like to be like his dad which is a nice thing to hear.

There are loads of other things I could say about him, 90% being good stuff. But, I think you get the idea.

Ciao

LC

Baths

I am into baths. I think having a bath is a nice thing to do when you need to relax. If I have been out all day and it has been cold, I like to warm up in a deep bath and then go to bed.

Before we renovated our bathroom, you could lie in the claw foot bath and watch television through the open door. After the renovations, the bath was moved and I could no longer do that. But I have gotten around that for now and today S is having a long morning bath watching some cartoons on a portable DVD player I bought. But I am planning on installing a flat screen television in an appropriate spot in the bathroom one day so that I can watch it whilst drifting in the warm water. That may never eventuate, but I like to think about it.

My idea of the perfect bathroom is that it would have a fireplace and the bath would be in the centre of the room. A very large, very heavy and very deep cast iron claw foot bath that you could almost sleep in.

When I was growing up, the last house I live in had a typical 1920's bathroom with a heater in the corner that you had to light each time you wanted a shower or bath. It was quite a frightening experience for me (aged 11) as I had to hold the lit match slightly above my head height and light the pilot flame. I then had to pull a small lever which open the gas valve and the whole thing would light up with a loud bang. The "bang" was so loud, that the room shook. Many times the hair on my arms would be singed off. I was often quite shaken by the experience and for a while used to experience anxiety attacks in the morning if I had to light the "rocket".

The plus side of this heating method is that you could have a shower or bath all day long if you wanted as the water was continuously hot.

One thing that I cannot do, is have a bath without a tap running for the entire time. This is a habit that my mother passed on to all of the children. I have to start the bath tap running slowly and quite hot and, once the bath is half full I will just have the tiniest trickle of hot water running. I am able to adjust the flow with my feet and if the bath gets a bit full I can actually lift the plug enough to let some water out and then drop the plug back into place with no effort.

A silent bathroom is unnerving for me. And I don't like spa baths, all that bubbling is not relaxing for me at all.

This pointless blog is merely avoidance behaviour. I am avoiding doing some housework...

Ciao
LC

Pashmina

I bought a pink Pashmina yesterday.

For many years I have associated Pashmina's with middle aged women.

It appears that association was right all along.

Ciao
LC

Two Days off Work

I had to take Thursday and Friday off work due to the school holidays. I don't get paid if I don't work and so to take off two days really grinds with me, especially as I was going to go out and spend money on the very days I was not earning any.


Thursday was a bit of a milestone day. S went with a friend to the pictures to see some rat in the kitchen movie named after some dish which I cannot remember the name of. For the first time ever, he has reached an age where I can leave him with his friend at the pictures whilst I go shopping. That means that I did not have to watch a cartoon for two hours. I may never have to watch a Pixar movie again. Or a movie about singing penguins or talking cars or surfing penguins or talking toys or anything else. And I have to say hooray to that. My idea of a good cartoon is Loony Toons.


So, I had a jolly good time walking around the shops for two hours. I did not spend much, but I did get some goodies at the gorgeous Body Shop which makes me feel happy.


Today, Friday, I took S and his friend to the Royal Melbourne Show which is an annual Agricultural show. Well, it may well have its roots embedded in the agricultural area, but until recently I was beginning to think it was strictly show bags and rides. Fortunately there has been an overhaul in the past two years and it seems to be getting back to food, farm animals, craft and cooking. The show bags and rides are there but on a smaller scale. Each year the Country Women's Association makes lovely scones, lunches and nice cups of tea and I would have loved to have partaken of such food had I remembered that they were there!


So, I decide not to train it in as I hate trains. Trains here are late and slow and full of nutters after peak hour and I just don't want to be exposed to that. I lead a sheltered life and whilst I know about smelly things and strange people, I don't want to sit near them on my days out. I know that seems quite mean, but many years ago some dude kissed my butt (after looking up my dress) when I was out in the city talking on a public phone and since then I have carefully avoided all places where nutters hang out.


But I am digressing. We get to the show and it is FREEZING and all I can think of is the toasty warm coat I decided not to take so now I had to walk around in a t-shirt and cardigan frozen to the skin. Thank goodness I had some sense to bring a scarf. I am the pack horse. I carry my bag, the lunch, three umbrellas, empty bags to carry show bags and a small back pack which is not mine but I feel sorry for my sons friend who was carrying it. The wind was wild and I spent six hours with my hair in front of my face flicking it like a whip and making my lipstick spread over my face.


Although we brought lunch with, I ate a stack of licorice which, as expected, gave me a violent headache and was followed an hour late by a stomach ache and despite those side effects I have since eaten the rest of the lovely black sticks after coming home. PMT is looming.

But I want to say something about the crap that is in the show bags. The concept of why show bags were initially created has been completely lost in commercialism over the past 40 years. They used to be called Sample Bags. That is, you would buy a little paper bag with handles in which would be an array of tasty treats in little packets. Small jars of peanut butter, tiny wrapped rolls of salami, weeny packets of different cheeses (tasty and mild), dear wrapped packets of biscuits and a nice warm bottle of milk. Sometimes they had jars of jam. Very occasionally you would get a chocolate sample bag from Cadbury or Rowntree. The entire purpose was to let you know what was out there so you would possibly buy it at the shop later on. Each year there was always a toy that everyone bought. Click Clacks were the popular wrist breaker when I was ten. Other years were kewpie dolls with starched dresses on a stick (vintage ones now sell for a fortune on Ebay), big blow up bats or some stupid shiny wig.

Nowadays I am sure that the content of all of the show bags adds to the GDP of China hugely. I have never seen such crap exploding out from a plastic bag. Chocolates, chips, lollies and cheap and nasty toys by the tonne. And I noticed that the more financially restricted a person appeared to be, the larger the stack of show bags was balancing on the pram handles. People even had shopping jeeps loaded to the hilt with the loot bags. Plus the show does seem to attract a certain demographic. Now, I don't want to be judgemental but it is hard sometimes not to form an opinion when you hear a conversation that I am about to write down.

The three of us are trudging to the entrance and are walking behind a grandmother, mother and four children of various ages. There is a big sign advertising helicopter rides for $240 and one of the children says, very excitably, "can we go for a ride?". And here is what transpired with a dreadful Aussie twang:

Grandmother: No fucking way, it's fucking bad enough that we have to take you kids here without you asking for a fucking helicopter ride.

Mother (with fag hanging out of corner of mouth): Yeah, if we didn't have to drag you lot with mum "n" me could have had a ride in the fucking helicopter together. Youse are so ungrateful and it shits me. I do everything for you lot and you don't give a shit.

Child: Sorry mum

Mother: You're not fucking sorry. Your just saying that so's I'll buy you a showbag.

By this stage I had decided to drag the two boys past the offending foul mouths and I felt so sorry for the day ahead of the four children that had a great day to look forward to. Just not quite sure why a mother, who obviously hates her children, had four of them to vent her abuse upon. I could also see that the charming form of communication had been passed down the family line.

The day was long, the boys had fun, we looked at the animals (no horses due to Australia wide Equine Influenza epidemic) and I allowed S to have a couple of show bags full of rubbish to add to land fill in three weeks time where his great, great, great (add 100 greats to that) son can dig it up and play with it in one thousand years.

I have finally decided (at 10.00pm) that I did actually have a good time.

Ciao

LC

Mornings

This is what I use before I leave the house each morning.

This is what my husband uses before he leaves the house each morning.

This is what my son uses before he leaves the house each morning.

Not much more I can add to that except that there is a valid reason why I am always in a rush.

Ciao

LC

PMT and Pimples

You know, I think nearly every month I bang on about PMT. But I really want to say something about the pimples that go with it.

At the age of 43 - almost 44, you think I would not be getting any pimples as such. As a teenager I pretty much had perfect skin so one would expect that to follow to adult years. But no, each month I get a blind pimple somewhere on my face. The placement of the pimple kind of rotates in the following fashion: lower left side of chin, middle of right cheek, lower right side of chin, middle of left cheek and so on. Today it is lower right part of chin. It takes all of my restraint to not touch it aggressively, but I do have to keep pushing it as I have some sort of strange idea that if I push hard enough it will kind of dissipate back into my body.

I have learnt to NEVER attempt to squeeze a pimple that is hormonal and blind. Unfortunately I did not listen to advice given to me on such matters, I had to find out the hard way month after month, year after year of attempting to excavate it over a week long period, finding out there never has been and never will be a "head" on a blind pimple and never shall it spring forth from my face with great pressure giving me that sense of satisfaction. No, no, it took all those years of spending three weeks each month with a very ugly and volcanic sore on my face before I finally admitted defeat and kept my poking fingers off my face.

Instead I just press it about fifty times a day. One hard press which really, really hurts and then takes about 2 minutes to settle. I then resist the urge for as long as possible before pressing it again. I have to be mindful of doing this when the pimple is on my cheek as a while ago I pressed it so much I ended up with a bruise.

So, there you go. That is my gripe for the day. Although, just feeling this pimple makes me wonder if this month, maybe this one will form a head!!!! If I just gave it a tiny bit of help on the way...............

Ciao

LC

Post Two Hundred

I realise that this is only a small milestone, but I have done 200 posts.

I know that I have written loads of blah blah blah posts but there have been a couple that I enjoyed writing more than others or felt had a more meaningful content, were nicely written and a bit more reflective or did not make me go "that is bad and I actually let someone else read it" when I read it back two weeks later.

I wonder, does anyone have their own personal posts that they liked. It is okay to admit it as we are all entitled to a bit of an ego. It would be interesting to read someone's favorite personal post.

Here are my favorites for no other reason except that I like them.

My Brother's House

The Beach

Shopping

Well, those three are the best I could come up with - and even the shopping one was a strong possibility of not appearing - but since I shop each week I feel it adequately describes my feelings.

Ciao
LC

Nice

It would be nice if someone informed me that there was not one single roll of toilet paper in the house when THEY realised it and not when I NEEDED it.

8 Random Things

I have had a been nominated for a meme from Jen for a meme - 8 Random Things. Thanks Jen for that.


I have chosen 8 "My Odd Food Things" for my randomness.


1. I remember my holidays by what I ate. Whereas K will talk about the buildings we saw I will talk about what we ate. EG: "Remember we went to Melrose in Scotland and went to that gorgeous pub and I had that fantastic smoked trout with ginger sauce and the steamed fresh baby carrots and new potatoes and then had that amazing freshly baked lemon meringue pie with the clotted cream and those handmade mint chocolates with the coffee?". And you had that beef and guiness pie with new potatoes and then that sticky date pudding with ice cream?". To which he replies "no, I don't remember".. Or I say "Remember when we went to the Pump Room in Bath and I had that gorgeous piece of ginger cake with my coffee and you had a Chelsea Bun with the little black currents and sugar on top and with Early Grey Tea. Then we went up to the Costume Museum and just near that we had lunch at that antique shop on the third floor and I had my first Bacon Lettuce and Tomato toasted sandwich and the sun was shining through the open skylight and we were sitting amongst all the antiques eating away" To which he might say "I remember the shop, I think I remember the food".



2. Sometimes I will eat nothing but spicy chilli tuna on toast for lunch every day for two weeks in a row. When I eat my home made tomato soup I always add a tin of spicy chilli tuna to it. Sometimes I wake up in the morning and have it for breakfast as well as lunch. Currently I have 16 tins of spicy chilli tuna in the pantry. I only like one brand of it and when it is on special I buy loads of it.



4. The only animal product I eat is fish and I only eat that for the protein value because I am unable to eat any sort of legumes as they make me ill (and fart non stop) otherwise I would be a strict vegan. I only drink non fat milk as soy milk is another thing I cannot tolerate. Although, now and then I just have to eat baked beans as I love them.



5. All my food has to be low fat, preservative and additive free or I will be ill for days on end. Years ago when I could eat everything and anything I would have thought that any one who said that could not eat food with preservatives etc I would have said that were imagining it. Funny how things change. Having since realised how it is not that hard to be relatively preservative free and healthy I think somewhere along the line society is being duped. We really should not be eating stuff that has ingredients in it that you cannot actually buy.

6. Many, many years ago I went through a stage where I had to eat multiples of things. Once I ate a dozen eggs in one day and could not go to the toilet for almost a week. Then I ate a dozen oranges in a day and could not stop going to the toilet. The worst case was when I ate a dozen bananas and woke up in the morning with my face in banana vomit. This is a well known story in our house and each time I think about it I laugh. Although, somehow I do think that my odd eating habits have somehow contributed to my over sensitive gut problems.



7. I know the calorie value of everything I eat. I also know the fat value of it, the carb value, and any other food fact that is presented to me about it. At one stage I kept a diet diary of everything I ate for twelve months but decided it was becoming obsessive, and, as I had sorted out the food issues I had the need was no longer there. But, if you ask me what I have eaten in the past week I can tell you in detail right down to the rice crackers I ate last night ten minutes before I went to bed. Some people would say it was unhealthy, but I prefer to say that people do what they need to do and I personally need to be able to apply myself intensely to certain things to satisfy some sort of urge in me. I recognise my urges and have learnt when to go with them and when to stop. To deny such urges leads to bigger problems.



8. I have always liked the idea of having a bath in food whether it be baked beans, jelly, honey, peas or something equally disgusting. It is strictly a non-sexual urge, I just like the thought of it and have decided to keep it as that - a thought due to the hygiene and germ factor and that, I can tell you, is a whole new "8 Random Things" topic.

Well, that is my "8 Random Things" completed.

I would like to offer the following five of my fav blogs of mine to do the same meme. The topic is of your choice and can be weird or wonderful or both. I know I should tag 8 people but I decided 5 is more my style!

Graham
Neoauteur
Naked Banana
Skittle - Skittle is Random
Agnes and here is hers Agnes is Random

That Sunday Wedding

So I went to this wedding on Sunday and it started at 11.00 am and finished at 5.00 pm so I was kind of resentful that I had to spent a Sunday at a wedding of someone I have seen once in two years. But in families you do have to do these things.

I decided to wear a dress I had bought off Ebay for $50 and realised that the person who sold it to me did so because it had enough static electricity in it to light a small room. I think I sprayed half a can of hairspray up the skirt to keep it from clinging. I could feel the fabric hanging onto my terribly expensive panty hose which was most uncomfortable and ensured that I would not relax at all. In the end I took of my panty hose as I had a vague memory that nylon makes clothes static. It kind of helped and I was able to go to the reception with snow white legs and a non clingy dress.

I also realised that whilst you would match your dress to your handbag and shoes, my dress was exactly the same colour as my car.

I know I had banged on in a recent post that there was no way I was going to give cash or use the bridal registry. So, on Saturday I went down to a very nice shopping area that I knew would have just what I wanted only to find that half the shops were shut due to Jewish New Year. Every gift shop was closed and half the food and clothes shops. In the end I went to book shop and bought The Lost World by Arthur Conan Doyle and sat in the sun for an hour or so reading it whilst I had a coffee. In my mind I was thinking where else I would go to get a gift. When I finally got to the nominated store near my home it also was shut. Then I realised that I had no choice - it was a $$$$ gift. And let me say - it was much easier than I thought to shove some money in the envelope with a card. The couple were going to use it on their honey moon in Indonesia where they were going to spend three weeks helping build some orphanage.

Could not wait to get home and take off my ridiculously pointy shoes and get out of the dress.

The photo is in front of the reception place which was just divine and would just be perfect to live in.

Ciao

LC

Becoming My Mother

My mother used to do the MOST embarrassing things.

Apart from the fact that she was the only foreign mother at every primary school I went to, she never made an effort to fit in. Her clothes were bright and mismatched. At one stage I remember she wore a WIG that was pitch black and obviously not her natural hair. She sent me to school in long pants for which I got repeatedly sent home for as girls had to wear dresses. In her mind, to appease the school without compromising her beliefs on how girls should be dressed, she got out the sewing machine and made me a pair of culottes which apparently looked like a skirt due to the wide nature of the legs. No, they just made me look more like a wog as the colours she chose were a bright red pair and also a purple pair.

When finally she bought me a dress, her creative urges won over and she bought me a fake snake skin dress under which I wore a white skivvy, white tights and black CLOGS. It was really quite hard for me at one particular school where everyone had ties to the first fleet that arrived into Australia and anyone whose parents were not born here was named a refuge. This was all compounded by stinky cheese sandwiches on black bread wrapped in brown paper for lunch when everyone else had white bread and vegemite in neat little lunch boxes.

She called out to me in shops loudly and never cared what anyone thought of her doing so. That was their problem, not hers. She said the "F" word in front of my friends as to her it was not a swear word so it was okay to say it - however when I said it things changed and she stopped it. She spoke to anyone and everyone who happened to be nearby and I used to want to hide in case someone thought she belonged to me.

But I got over all that stuff and these days wear clogs and mismatched clothes like my mother and eat the same sort of strange foods that she had. It is part of my culture and feels natural to me. She had a crap marriage and a hard life but, most importantly, I can honestly say that her mother love for her children was huge and never ending against all the odds.

BUT, there is one thing that she would do that really, really made me squirm with sphincter winking embarrassment and that was to take packets of sugars/ butters/ jams etc that one would find on a table when you went out for dinner or went to a function. Her handbag would be loaded with little foil wrapped packets of butter, little paper sachets of salt, pepper and sugar, tea bags, coffee sachets. You name it, she would take it and then try to get me to. Worse than that, she would wrap uneaten bread rolls up into paper napkins and take those. She would ask for doggie bags not just from her left overs but whoever else was at the table. If I complained she would threaten to get up and do a belly dance to the music or something equally horrendous. K used to laugh at my anal reaction whilst my mum just loved winding me up. He said to just leave it and let her be whatever she wanted.

Well, it appears I may have become a bit like my mother. Yesterday we went to a wedding and at the end of the meal there was lots of chocolate, shortbread, cupcakes etc left on the table. And, I wrapped it all up in a napkin and took it home. Worse than that, I cleared a vacant adjoining table of their goodies. My handbag was far too small to shove them into so I gave them to K to carry out. He mumbled something about me being like my mother.

It appears there is really no escape from becoming like ones mother.

Ciao
LC

Doh!

Last night as I put S to bed he mentioned something about sperm and wanted to know how much sperm a man had.

Well, this really took me by surprise as I have not as yet broached that area of sex education as I knew when the time came I would be compelled to mention about orgasms and ejaculation - neither of which I really think he needs to be aware of at aged ten. That subject can be raised in the schoolyard.

So I said something really lame like "Oh, yeah sperm. Um, well a man can have millions of them all wiggling around - they come out at the end of sex". Then I blabbed a bit about IVF etc.

I then asked why he wanted to know.

To which he said:

"Oh, I was watching The Simpsons and Bart asked Homer what sperm was and Homer said they were tadpoles and then he started dreaming about them and all the sperm had Homer heads and kept bumping into each other and saying "Doh" and they were having a good time"

I said, yeah, that is about right.

Glad I got that sticky subject out the way.....

Doh!

Ciao
LC

Moody Mums and Surly Sons

When I was pregnant I remember thinking that I hoped my child would be nice looking (for their sake) and not at all like me (also for their sake). I wanted this new baby to have the calm and focused mind of my husband for I struggled with my own thought processes and did not want my child to experience the same difficulties I did.

For as a child and a young adult I was moody. Long deep and dark moods that excluded and included everyone around me. I wrote the most heavy and depressive poetry that reflected the "great suffering" that flowed through my "troubled" mind. When a foul mood would descend upon me I was able to come out with the most unkind comments which were delivered right to the most sensitive part of the unwitting recipient. Now that I am older I understand that being part of a very difficult upbringing within an extremely volatile family situation made things harder for me as I grew up. On top of all that, I was "hormonally challenged" and that is putting it mildly. So a lot of it was not always in my initial control.

I am sure I got away with being a first class bitch for many years because I was quite pretty but I remember one day, after a particularly stressful week of pmt (which involved me cutting my hair short in a violent rage and throwing a kettle of boiling water at a boyfriend as he ran off) I had a moment of clarity when I thought to myself that if I did not get control of this I am going to be old and friendless and sad. I am going to be a shit parent and a totally out of control woman. If I was not careful I would end up being like my father and that was enough to spur me on. So, I just spent years rethinking how I approached things and kept putting myself in other peoples shoes or learnt to count to ten before reacting etc etc. It was not at all easy, but what is?

I had my son at aged 33 after IVF and not long after was on medication for PND which was expected due to family history etc. I can honestly say that in the ten years that S has been in my life, I do not believe he has ever viewed me having one of those horrible, horrible moods. I have been grumpy, yelled etc, but never, ever been moody or hostile. Not just because I don't go down that road but also because it would be the worst example to set him. Don't think I don't feel like being a shit - I just don't act it out. I have it pretty much sorted and treat those around me with the utmost care and respect.

Well, what a fucking waste of time all that has been because S is MOODY. Yes, he has inherited the dark and poisonous mood gene (which my father also had). When he is in that mood he really searches for the most unkind thing that he can say to me and, whilst we were on holiday recently, he actually managed to make me cry with his nastiness - okay, it was that time of the month so I may have been a bit more sensitive that usual but.....

When he was not in the throes of a mood I had to sit down and explain to him some tactics to adopt to see him through those feelings because sometimes they are not always rational. I suggested that when he feels that way, to perhaps tell us so we know what is happening. Along with that I had to explain what the consequences could be if he did not learn to handle the feelings (no friends, poor relationships with people etc)

I also had to explain to K that it was best not to get angry when S was caught in the grip of that gloom and doom as it really does inflame the situation and will be like that for a few years until S can get a better understanding of the movement of his thoughts. Better to accept and ignore it and not feed it for a bad mood is like a hungry fire. It may not be the best tactic for ever, but until he learns to deal with them, it is maybe a good start.

So anyway, the other night, out of the blue as I was putting S to bed he just was overcome with this intensely bad mood and told me to go away. He hid his head under the bed covers and said it was best if I left, he was in a mood and wanted to just let it pass and not talk about it. I guess it was his first step into acknowledging what was happening and did not want it to escalate. He went to sleep with his head under the covers and was fine the next morning and had enough thought to say he was sorry for not giving me a kiss goodnight. Oh what a journey is ahead for him.

You cannot be selective with what comes down the genetic line can you?

Ciao

LC

Toothbrushes

One of the things I hate hearing when I am about to go supermarket shopping is "we need new toothbrushes".

How can brushing teeth have become so complicated?

It is bad enough I have to go food shopping without having to contend with yet another decision to make. Food shopping is not one of my favorite activities

So I stand in front of the toothbrush section and stare at the wide variety of oral care available. Tongue scrapers, gum massagers, colour notifiers which tell you when to replace the brush (is that a marketing ploy or what?), brushes that reach far back and around into places which never see the light of day, brushes with undulating surfaces, brushes with batteries in them, brushes with short head, long heads, hard, med and soft heads. Brushes with ergonomic handles and rubber pads on them to ensure a good grip.

Then there is the plethora of mouth washes, plaque identifiers, whitening solutions and different flavoured mouth washes in all sorts of colours. Toothpastes - well, you can imagine.

It is all well and good for a person who is able to make a decision on the spot, but for someone like me who spends an awful lot of time thinking about what it must be like to be an ant amongst thousands and still maintain individuality, standing there rooted to the spot is just another stressful moment in my day.

In the end, after much consideration, I choose very carefully the most suitable toothbrush only to find that the stupid ergonomic handle does not fit into the little hole in the toothbrush holder in my bathroom and therefore has to sit on the vanity somewhere and make bit sticky deposits of toothpaste blob everywhere.

Ciao
LC

Bayko

I collect this. I have loads of it.

Sometimes I take it out and build it.

Sometimes I take it out to look at it and feel good.

http://www.melright.com/bayko/index.htm

I have loved Bayko for years.

If I had room I would have a trainset and make a small town with Bayko and just live there - if you get what I mean.

I also love Lego.

It is sometimes lonely being a 43 year old female who loves Bayko and Lego.

Ciao

LC

Exercise and Diet Discipline

Three ugly words in any one's vocabulary aren't they.

But those three words are hugely intertwined in my life.

I never eat crap food. And when I say never, well, I am telling the truth. While other people indulge in chocolates, cakes, chips and take away I am eating sushi, bircher muesli and amaranth. I bake cakes and cookies which are delicious but don't eat them unless to have a cursory taste. Initially I had to take this stance as so much food was making me unwell and I have never gone back to poor eating habits. I live my food life through others as if I ate what I cooked I would be sick. When I make a chocolate cake I enjoy watching someone else eat it. People feel sorry for me when they notice I am eating soup whilst they are downing a big juicy steak.

It is quite normal for me to prepare three different meals each night to suit what everyone in the house prefers. K never eats seafood, lamb, chicken or very meaty things. He is almost vegetarian. S loves pasta. Hates meat with bones, lamb or chicken. Hates vegetables but I manage to find a way of hiding them.

When I think how I came from a Danish family that ate anything and everything and lots of it I do wonder at how austere my diet has become. No longer do I miss the food I used to love. Buttery Danish pastries, crispy based pizzas topped with ham and cheese, chocolate (tho' I can eat very dark bitter chocolate in small amounts), creamy pasta dishes, spicy salami, oil soaked black olives, sun dried tomatoes, feta cheese and the odd creme brulee . I remember the taste and texture but my body no longer is orgasmic at the thought of my tongue coming into contact with the flavours of those dishes.

Now, I relish vegan, low fat pizza that the local pizza shop makes, spicy chili and tomato soup, freshly baked multi-grain bread with a thin layer of Vegemite across it, freshly chopped seasonal fruit with plain no-fat yogurt, tossed salad with herbs and spices to enhance the crisp flavour and, as a treat, a freshly baked bagel with a thin layer of creamed honey. Mmmmmmm.

As for exercise. Well, I just do it. Jog, walk, run, weights, sit ups, squats, boxercise and anything else that keeps my mind settled. A normal week is Monday - 6km walk, Tuesday - Gym, Wed - outdoor circuit - Thurs - boxercise - Frid - rest - Sat and Sun - 6km walk each day or bike ride. I can run easily for 5 kms but don't run 10 km because it gets boring and I have a temperamental leg that grumbles with too much running. When I do jog, the first 1km out is shitful and then when that rush of endorphins comes in (and it truly does) I am in the groove and just coast listening to the music on my ipod.

Now, I am not telling you all this to brag. But this is all how I keep settled and steady as human being. I actually do not like exercise but do it regardless because the benefits outweigh the dislike. Considering three years ago I could not run 100 feet without dry retching I have to say that even I am impressed with my fitness level. Having been once very unfit and now fitter than someone aged twenty years younger is kind of a good feeling. Sometimes I am obsessed but think it is better to be addicted to good health than hamburgers or alcohol.

All my life I wanted to be a disciplined person and when I worked out how to do it, it made life so easy in a hard kind of way.

Anway, that is my self congratulating post of the day. When I read it back, it does make me feel better about myself as I am inclined to melancholy and self criticism.

Ciao
LC

Notebook Magazine Gripe # 2

Once again I bought Notebook Magazine.

Must be a glutton for punishment. Actually I just wanted to reaffirm my thoughts on this magazine and intend to every month.

Anyway, I was reading some article about some fabulous furniture fashion fix when my eye was drawn towards an advertisement for an Asus UI laptop and how fabulous it is especially since it uses a blah blah Intel Centrino Duo processor. I was suitably impressed with the twaddle about it all. Until I got to the tiny last paragraph which said:

Now, this Notebook magazine is geared towards women. Every page drips with suggestions on how to have your house, your clothing, your cooking and your skincare. Yet, I cannot help but notice how this laptop is just so fantastic that the business executive would find it HIS best travelling companion, satisfy HIS requirement for high quality style and empower HIM with all the full abilities of a wireless capable notebook PC.

Um, er, in this day and age, don't you think that advertising would acknowledge that women also use computers for more than the odd email. In fact, some may even have a lap top.

I think some misogynist may have done the proof reading here.

Ciao
LC

Imposter Syndrome?

One day people are going to find out I am an imposter of sorts. At least I think I must be as sometimes I do things I don't want to do because I have to. I am sure half the mother's in the world are of the same mindset.

I do what I do because that is part of life. Work, wife, motherhood, friendships. But, there are many times when I would prefer to be alone. Which is not a reflection at all on the people I share my life with. Because they are good and I do love them both. But I prefer the silence of my own company. Like a child playing with toys alone. I am sure K knows what I am like in that sense and, out of kindness and some sort of respective understanding, he chooses not to mention it. He often says it must be awful living inside my head. But it actually is all I know so that is okay.

Frequently in my head I am in a completely different world. My mouth opens and lets the appropriate words come out that will satisfy the person who is asking the questions. Somehow I remember it all, but mostly I just live in a space in my head in which I think about things that please me.

I am not quite sure how I actually managed to get where I am and have the life I have because when I really dissect the years it is all a big blur.

There are times when K will talk about something that we did years ago and I find I am unable to recall it without treating it as a story I made up in my head. I think that is just the way I process memories. I have to make them make sense in a way I understand.

It is a though I live a story about a life that someone made up. But I reside in my head which is the only place I can try to find peace with my thoughts.

It took me years to teach myself to stop thinking all the time. Took me years to accept who I am and the things I do or don't do. Years to stop reacting to the light of the day, the silence of night, the movement of people around me and the noise they made and how they invaded my personal space. I have to constantly maintain some type of vigilance to ensure that all my thoughts don't tumble out from their hiding place and end up in my day to day thinking.

Unfortunately today they did tumble out and it is very noisy in there.

A long walk and loud music is on the cards for tonight.

Ciao

LC

Weddings and Presents

This Sunday I K and I are going to a family wedding (on his side). Initially I was annoyed that it was at 11.00 am on Sunday therefore taking from me an entire day. I then have to sit around listening to blah blah blah. Sit at a table with people I don't know and make polite conversation which is not one of my strengths. But I am accepting now that I do have to go and at least I get to frock up.

Now, of course we have to give a wedding present. We have been given a choice of either giving money to them in the "wishing well" or going to a department store where they have a gift registry.

I want to say how much I hate both of those options. I don't want them to know how much money I spent on them and the thought of putting cash in an envelope is just shallow. It is not even traditional like pinning money on a bride's dress in some cultures is. I don't want them to know what they are getting and I refuse to take either option up. It takes away the thought process for me of buying a gift. It shows to me a level of greed that I find offensive. The last wedding we went to had a coffee machine and a vacuum cleaner on their bridal registry - get real. Couples can use the excuse that they don't want to get another toaster etc. But those days are gone. There are so many beautiful things out there to give someone that the chance of doubling up is very small.

So I am going down the the shop that I like and choosing a gift that I think is lovely and if they don't like it they can give it to someone at Christmas or shove it in a cupboard and forget about it.

Bad enough I have to give up a Sunday without being told where to shop.

Ciao
LC

Must Do Number Six in Australia

No visit to Australia can go without a trip to Sydney. Or more specifically a trip to the Sydney Harbour Bridge. This iconic coathanger shaped bridge welcomes everyone to the beautiful harbour that is Sydney. In the past few years it has become possible to climb the Sydney Harbour Bridge. This is not to be missed. It is so much fun and so much to see from the top. Here is a picture of me on the top of the bridge and in the background is the Sydney Opera House, another beautiful icon. Photo is about three or four years ago.

Ferries take passengers from one side of the harbour to the other. Tooronga Zoo is built on a hill and, whilst small, is a great place to include in a visit. Sydney Luna Park was recently refurbished and offers and mix of the old and new with rides and bright lights to entertain child or adult. Oxford Street, famous for shopping and people watching is the gay capital of Sydney whilst Kings Cross is still as seedy as it was fifty years ago.

Housing is Sydney is extremely expensive but some of the properties in Mosman house many rich and famous in gorgeous houses. Just near the harbour is The Rocks which is an area that is where convicts first settled. There are still some very early houses to see which show how Sydney was when first settled. But, just for the harbour area alone, Sydney is a good for a quick stop over.

However, as gorgeous as Sydney is, the one thing that would stop me actually living there is the funnel web spider. It has a nasty bite and does tend to hide in your laundry, shoes and out in the garden so you have to be mindful when doing things around the place. I am spider phobic and just could not live in the same space as one of those arachnids.

Ciao

LC

Mothering Techniques

With all the books about how to be a good mother it is easy to get confused and lose confidence. In the end I adopted my own style combined with the stuff my mum handed down to me.

1. I let S hang around in his pyjamas all weekend if we are not going out anywhere
2. I don't always make S have a bath/shower each day unless he smells or looks like he might smell
3. S still comes into our bed at night when he has a nightmare - he used to end up in our bed nearly every night - now only twice a week.
4. When S was a baby I picked him up every single time he cried and then let him fall asleep in my arms which explains why number 3 is happening.
5. Last week S had chocolate for dinner two nights in a row - once because K did not give him dinner, neglected to tell me and then I gave him chocolate in complete ignorance. Second night I made him lasagne which he did not like, followed by pasta which was tasted yucky so I just gave him and Aero bar - so, so what a bad thing is that.
6. I answer all questions that S has no matter how uncomfortable I feel about it e.g What is a prostitute, do they do it to have babies, how do you not have babies, what does love feel like, what is a first kiss like and other sorts of questions.
7. I let him watch television for more than two hours, sometimes ALL DAY!
8. I let him play on the computer far too much
9. I never let him leave the house without breakfast no matter what.
10. When it somes to food I don't make him eat vegetables but he likes fruit. But to offset that I am super strict about crap food in the house. No chips, white bread, sugary cereals, muesli bars, packet cookies or cakes etc etc.
11. I never make him eat all his food on his plate. And still let him have dessert regardless.
12. Until recently, I would not allow myself to be more than half an hour drive away from him - unless he was on a school camp etc at which time I spent three days in tears. All this I hide from him to a large degree to ensure I do not smother him. Such a hard thing to do. Although a while ago I asked him if I loved him too much and he said no, of course not.

He says I shout too much, I am scarey and bossy. But he says he will never be too old to kiss or cuddle me in front of his friends.

I asked him yesterday what was the best piece of advice his parents had given him.

His answer was "Don't go onto bad websites as they will put pictures in your head that don't need to be there and will spoil beautiful things for you". So he never does - actually he can't as we have Net Alert but still he remembered what I said and never tries.

Of course, he is only ten so a bit easier to handle - I wonder, I wonder what he will be like three years from now.

Ciao
LC

Flowers

These poppies are Flanders Poppies are my all time favorite flower. About twelve years ago I emptied a packet of the seeds in my front garden and ever since then they have flowered, died back and self seeded back into the garden. They have even appeared in my neighbours garden. The earth needs to be disturbed to encourage them to spring up all over the place. They are well known in the poem Flander Fields by John McCrae which describes the poppies that appeared in profusion in Flanders which is where thousands of young men died during WWI. There is always a feeling of melancholy associated with them.

I think they are lovely.

Ciao

LC

Sunday Sneak

I did something a bit dishonest today. But before I confess to the crime, I should mention what preceded it as it may vindicate me.

Woke up late with a big fat headache because S put the ducted heating on 26c to ensure that the entire house would be stuffy by the time I woke up.

After getting dressed I decide to go out and tackle the very weedy front yard and end up mowing the lawn, sweeping the driveway and front footpath. By this stage I have totally lost interest in gardening as my headache has been aggravated by me eating bread that I buy for S and K and not my bread (food allergy/intolerance thingy).

K goes off to play jazz at the Hotel as he does every second Sunday which means S and I go off and have some lunch at this great big lovely garden centre. When I get there I pull up beside a really, really crappy and old red car which a very old woman has parked in a rather crooked way. I know it is owned by and old woman as she was about to open the boot of the car to load her stuff in. I say to S that I am not parking near her as I have a bad feeling about her and her car and then drive forward so that when I do eventually leave I can drive straight out as opposed to have to reverse out which is fine. The red car is still parked behind the car on my immediate right so I am safe from her.

After S has lunch and I read a newspaper we pick up lots of stuff for the garden and make our way out to the car to load up the stuff having a chit chat at the same time. After I have pushed the empty trolley back to the car I notice that some fucking cow has scraped their car along my front right hand side bumper. And the paint is RED and I am betting that it was that stupid car that I avoided parking next to because it is the same sort of orange red colour that was popular 20 years ago and I just know that SHE did it. The car she had been parked behind had gone and then allowed her to just drive out from her space and smudge my car on the way.

Somehow I get home without swearing (have to set a good example here for S) and then unload the car and once again inspect the damage and start to feel a bit better about it all as I think it will polish out. S says the lady should have stopped and left her name and I explained that she was older and maybe did not realise what she did and perhaps did not have insurance and that not all people are honest etc etc. In the back of my mind I am thinking that had I done the same would I have stopped? I definitely would if S was with me as I have to do the right thing as a grown up if I want him to be half decent.

Now, where was I going with all this? The dishonest thing.

Well, I had to go supermarket shopping at about 5.00pm and off I went to the land of boring with my not so perfect car and the rain all around and my headache still banging away. I had to buy some tomatoes. Now, you just don't get red tomatoes any more. You get field tomatoes, hydroponic tomatoes,vine tomatoes, grape tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, fucking romano tomatoes and some purple things that I cannot remember the name of. Well, I like the vine tomatoes as they taste the best and they also happen to be the most expensive. They have the little green stalk left on them so that the cashier is able to tell which tomato it is to ensure that they pick the correct price code. And this leads to my dishonesty - I picked all the green stalks off so that it looked like I had bought the field tomatoes which were $3.50 per kg cheaper.

I have never done such a thing and I kind of got the notion to pick the green bits off as I walked around finishing off the shopping. Although, I have eaten and apple and some grapes whilst shopping. It is just so boring there and I get hungry.

So, that is it.

Ciao
LC

Um Er Okay

A while ago someone said to me that they think they would make a great life coach.


"Oh really, and why is that?" I replied.


To which they (truly seriously) replied: "Well, I think I would be very good at telling people what to do with their lives".

I am not quite sure that she grasped the role of a life coach.

I think she had it mixed with being a mother.

Ciao
LC

Saturday Hair Day

Today I went to my most favorite place - the hairdressers. Every four weeks sees me sitting in that chair, drinking strong coffee and getting ready to read trashy mags. Catch up on all the personal gossip from my darling hairdresser and just relax for two to three hours.



Yep, two to three hours. Colour, foils and a fantabulous blow wave that makes my hair look like a movie star. When I step out the door and the sun is shining my hair swings like those in a shampoo advert. The sun shines upon my crowning glory like a halo. I get home and S and K say they love my hair. Glossy, chocolate brown and looking long and delicious. Eat your heart out Angelina Jolie!!! um er well, maybe not quite that. But you understand what I am saying. My hair looks HOT.



Then, two days later I have to wash it. I use super WOW salon hair shampoo. I have a hot shot professional hairdryer. I have the best hair product range in town. Before and after smoothing oil, spray for trapping that colour in and to protect it from the "elements", gorgeous smelling hair spray etc. and more etc. I have all products for all occassions. Some people are shoe whores whilst I am a hair product whore. I spend at least twenty minutes blow drying my hair. Do you think I can achieve that unbelievably gorgeous look that my hairdresser gives me? No way, never.


I can get a tousled kind of "not bad for an aging sex kitten look" which I really don't want it looks more like something I should wear out to a Disco (or whatever they are called these days). I can get the "okay when inside but totally frizzy and gross once outside in the elements look" which, as you can imagine will never be okay. Sometimes I just think "fuck it" and just let it dry naturally - not a good move and guaranteed to totally and entirely ruin my day.

Oh well, one day I won't give a shit and will cut it all off.

In the meantime I shall just keep working toward hair heaven.

Ciao
LC

Drawing

Recently I have decided to pick up where I left off years ago and do some drawing. There is something rather soothing about making a picture out of thoughts in your head. No-one has to like it either because the actual action of drawing is for my benefit.

The main thing is to make the time to do it even if it means other things get left undone.

Have decided that the reason above is a good enough one to not do the ironing!

Ciao

LC

Stupid Party Things

I went to one of those stupid party things that people have at their house. It was on Monday night and it was an Intimo Lingerie party.

I hate those fucking party things because I end up spending more than I want to and once again that old black knicker magic worked it's charm and out came the credit card.

So, one of the items was this white wrap top that you can tie in 150 different ways - the theory is that one top becomes lots and saves you money etc. Yeah, right. Last time I did that was with some black shawl thing that always ended up looking like I was wearing a fishing net.

Anyway, the stuff arrived today so I am going to wear it every day for the next three weeks because I can tie it 18 different ways and no-one will know that it is not the same top.

Yeah right.

The black knickers were nice though. One can never have enough undies I say. And, since the last lot I bought were from the supermarket (sad but true), I figure I have earnt them.

Won't be wearing those for the next three weeks though - they aren't quite as versatile as the super dooper white tie top.

Ciao

LC

My Father

My dad does not talk to me (or my siblings) and has not for about 6 years. He was never an easy person and did give all of us a very, very difficult time through the childhood years. But that was past and I dropped that bag years ago - essentially it was just too hard to carry around and also pointless.

I have come to terms with all the feeling of rejection and sadness about the whole thing as there is no other choice. Any attempt at reconciliation has been met with fairly aggressive hostility and, to tell you the truth, I just do not have the mettle to deal with it these days. I can only juggle so much emotion at the one time before I drop my bundle.

But my son now asks about my father more and more. I suppose this is natural curiosity. His relationship with K is good and full of such love that it must seem strange that I no longer have any contact with my own father. Especially since the decision to not speak to me was so unexpected that I wonder if I shall ever have closure on it. Things between my dad and I were fantastic and then, suddenly, they were not.

I try to have a balance of explaining difficulties people have with life and why they do things without putting my own issues in the picture. I also tell him that he is more than welcome to contact my dad and I know that he would welcome S completely (just not the mother of S - me). This was proven to me when one day I went into my dad's bakery with S and I was totally ignored whilst S was given full and complete attention.

Really, sometimes I just cannot think of what to say as, to tell you the truth, deep down I think my dad is a complete shit and does not deserve to ever have a relationship with my beautiful son. But, I do not want to convey that hostility over to S. That would not be showing forgiveness and understanding on any level.

Ho hum indeed.

Thanks dad.

Ciao
LC

Australian Must See # Five

Whilst this little faded gem would not make it in the Lonely Planet travel series, it certainly makes it in mine.

The Big Pineapple.

Australia has a lot of "big" things, Big Cow, Big Pie, Big Crayfish etc. But one of the first and most iconic is The Big Pineapple. I came here when I was about ten years old and last weekend K and I took S to visit the dated tourist fruity paradise.

First opened in 1971, it has become one of the most visited little park along the Sunshine Coast in Queensland. And trust me, there are quite a few trashy parks to drop into up in the sunny state.

There is a 16 metre high fibreglass pinapple that you can climb up to the top of and peer out over the little fields of prickly pinapples, watch the former sugar cane train carry tourists around the park and view the small farm not so far away. Within the walls of the plastic Carmen Miranda headpiece are little model buildings outlining the life and times of your average pineapple. There is an air of times past in this little hut of tropicana. The smell of a dusty floor mixes with the odour of warmed fibreglass as you climb the wooden steps to the next level of information before finally popping out at the crown of this marvel of human desire to take a food product to a new level.

There is a very large dining area which caters for bus loads of tourists stopping by on their journey. From the long food counters they sell the usual array of pies, sausage rolls and chips. Not a salad sandwich or sushi pack in sight. Also on offer is the most delicious range of giant sundae icecreams. All scrumptious flavours of sweet and soft icecream adorned with any tropical fruit you may desire. The enitire concoction topped with chocolate sauce and crushed peanuts. (None of which we had but did admire).

This place would not be complete without the souvenier shop oozing with every conceivable trinket you may wish to take home and keep as a reminder of the day. Badges, postcards, pens, pencils, cups, t-shirts, hats, bags, t-towels, mobiles with hanging wooden pineapples, jams, chutneys, lollies with pineapple centres, jewellery of all sorts - you name it, it is here and almost everything is adorned with a picture of a pineapple. I love the shape of a pineapple. No other fruit says "tropical" like a pineapple.

The toilets were frozen in time with the colours of the very early 1980's featuring strongly. The smell of the cleaning products used reminded me of hospitals I have been in with the powerful disinfected smell. So clean and so tired - it was so nostalgic I was surprised at how fascinated it made me.

Outside the complex there are so many different exotic fruit trees to see and a small train takes you on the journey which not only passes these trees but also a heritage listed rain forest. You can hop off the train half way through the trip and visit a small wildlife park and feed some kangaroos. The park adjoins a small farm with sheep, goats, calves, a donkey and even a couple of dingos that stare all day at the deer in an adjoining paddock. The children can feed the animals, pat them and enjoy them totally and without restraint. There are baby mice and chicks which are bred to be fed to the caged owls. Sounds a bit creepy, but if that is what they eat, so be it. This little farm has one of those gorgeous American type of barns.

If you have time, you can also catch the Macadamia Nut ride and get a tour of the farm where the macadamia nuts are grown and harvested.

Perhaps this park just does not make it in the travel books as it now has an air of the past about it. Not so slick now, lots of people pass it by for the biggger and more exciting places with rides, more food outlets, noise and action. But here, in this place the three of us enjoyed the peacefulness of it. The sense of time stopped, the relaxed atmosphere, the refusal of the dining room to be fashionably healthy and the fact that nothing has changed in more than thirty years. S said it was his favorite place. I also learnt how to choose the freshest pinapple at the supermarket!

Sometimes bigger is not always better. Sometimes new is not better than old. You see, it is easy to forget that the things we loved to visit as a child still have the same newness about them to our own children. Everything new becomes old, but only to those who have seen it before.

Ciao
LC

My Desk after My Holiday

Came back to work with batteries reasonably recharged. When I arrived I was astonished at just how much paper was piled up on my desk. It took me two hours to bring my space back to a workable situation.

So, keeping in mind that I only had three working days off, it is a concern of mine as to what will happen when I have three weeks off next year when I go to the UK......

Tonight I shall be going home and organising my week ahead which I cannot help but notice includes more washing followed by more ironing. I have a client I do work for on the some weekends and they have three children. Whenever I go there the washing machine is always on the go and there are baskets with clean clothing ready to be sorted. Piles of folded clothing at the foot of the stairs ready for the children to take up with them and put away. They have an industrial size machine which they bought after they found that the eco friendly front loader took about 1.5 hours per load and only held the smallest amount of clothing per wash. So really, I have nothing to complain about as such. However, I iron everything which is making a rod for my own back, but I realised long ago that being overwhelmed with ironing was preferable to having unironed t-towels and creases in my singlets or t-shirts.

I really should be working. And so that is now what I will do!

Ciao
LC

Holiday

Have come home an unpacked suitcases.

It rained. Actually, it bucketed down for 3 days. Non stop. Plane was diverted on the way there (due to bad weather) and it took 7 hours to arrive at our destination rather than 2.5 hours. This included a long bus ride.

My hair was very, very big and frizzy in the humid and rainy atmosphere.

Got my period and was highly sensitive, which was made worse by having frizzy hair - don't ask why, but it did. S and I argued and he made me cry!!! Twice!!!

K says he now lives with two me's - one being a ten year old male version.

But, when the sun came out and shone down from the blue sky, all was well and the holiday ended on a cheerful note.

No matter what, there is always something wonderful about coming home.

Have uploaded a rather serious photo of me - but the beach was gorgeous. Miles of it, windblown and wild with white sand.

Off to bed now - so tired. More to write about - as despite all the rain, we did have a nice time.

Ciao

LC

Holiday Headspace

Wednesday morning we are off for a short holiday where the sun will hopefully shine a little bit more than it is here.

I am always in a state of anxiety when I initially think of taking holidays. When you work for a small business you do tend to be a bigger cog in the wheel than you would be if you worked for a big corporation. I know this to be a fact as I have done the corporate career crap thing and never want to be there again. The sort of anxiety that goes with that lifestyle is wondering whether or not you will have a job to go back to when you go on holiday or will your marriage survive the 70 hours a week you are working (getting paid for 38 only). These days I work 30 hours a week and have more money - go figure.

Today I went to work and my head was in holiday mode. I just picked up all the nasty things I had been avoiding and did them. In no time at all I had reduced the pile of paper to almost negligible. It was rather interesting to see how one can really do well when there is a holiday looming ahead. I had care factor zero happening.

I expect this holiday to be a bit better than the last three I had. One on a cruise ship about 4 years ago. My idea of HELL. Seasick every day. Rained almost non stop and the one day it was sunny I got very sunburned. Ate too much food and, unbelievable as this sounds, I only had one crap in ten days. I kid you not. Now, considering that each meal was of a huge nature I can only say that the rest of the food ended up on my ARSE and have photos to prove that. On the second day of the cruise my words to K were - "don't ever, ever ask me to go on a cruise again". Every now and then he and S express a desire to cruise and I say "sure thing guys, enjoy yourselves".

Trip after that was to Tasmania. At the time I was ill with an unknown stomach problem that escalated over the next 10 months resulting in the most astonishing weight loss and astonishing medical bills (weight loss was okay - medical bills were not). So I spent a lot of time with my head down the toilet and being unable to eat very much other than an apple or bread. Apart from that, Tasmania was very, very beautiful even if rather boring after one week - shops shut at 12 on Saturday and no Sunday shopping which is fine but just hard to get used to in a week if you run out of something.

Our trip to the fun parks last year was just like being at home. I did breakfast, made lunches for each day trip, and organised dinner most nights for ten days. It was hot and my hair was frizzy each day I got sunburned despite sunscreen being slapped on before I left the resort. And I did washing. K was in charge of entertaining S and his cousin so that was fair I think. Sill, not my idea of holiday time for me. But S enjoyed the whole thing and that is what those fun park holidays are usually about.

This holiday is a mummy holiday. I am not cooking anything. We are out every meal. We are off to the Australian Zoo which is the home of Steve Irwin (when he was around of course). I remember going there as a child when it was a small reptile park run by his father. So a bit of a nostalgic trip for me. Just taking it easy for a few days, recharge batteries and then back to work Monday morning.

Cannot wait.

Ciao
LC

Music and My Car

When I jump in my car the first thing I do is turn on the music. Loud and the louder the better. It fills my head and then finds its place in my body and pumps me up for the day. My taste in music probably sits in the 70's and 80's as that is when I was a young girl and highly emotional and therefore the music had a fairly significant impact on me. Songs trigger deep emotions and there are some songs I do not listen to when feeling melancholy or vulnerable.

Often I listen to the same song over and over and over like it is a mantra. I have to be careful not to get too excited about the music when I am driving as the last time I did I ended up with a speeding ticket and that was not very pleasant.

At the moment I am listening to the best of Bruce Springsteen and will probably listen to the CD all week before changing it to another one. Last week was Crowded House - the week before was Fergie.

Whenever K or S get in the car they turn the music down straight away having experienced the blast of whatever song was last playing as the ignition is turned on. Recently, out of consideration to them both, I have made the effort to turn the volume down as I drive into our driveway.

Today I was driving along and noticed, once again, that the speaker in the driver's door was vibrating in the most annoying way. It had been vibrating for the past two weeks. That raised my anxiety levels as the car is only three months old. I spent the next ten minutes thinking I was going to take the car to the dealership, they would have to open the door skin to fix the speaker. Then I was thinking that it was pathetic that I have a new car and the speaker has a loud rattly buzz in it. Anxiety levels start to make me shitty.

Then I just happened to take a cd case that was sitting in the driver's side pocket and put it into the glove box and, all of a sudden, the vibrating stopped.

Anxiety levels replaced by private embarrassment. Two whole weeks I put up with that vibration - two weeks.

Is that a girl thing?

Ciao
LC

Sunday Ho Hum

Woke up this morning with the realisation the the PMT monster was replaced by the "ate something with a nasty additive in it" monster and spent the morning with a vomit inducing headache. But that did not stop me from going shopping to return some things which is neither here nor there. However, at the shops I was wondering around waiting for the headache and nausea to subside to enable me to get back in the car and drive home and I went into a shop selling an assortment of underwear and bras etc. As I was browsing the sales assistant came up to me to ask if I needed help (as they do).

Well, I turned to respond and it was all I could do not to laugh out aloud for this young girl had gone very much out of her way to look like Paris Hilton. she had the hairstyle, the eye makeup, the face colour and lipstick. She was wearing a Paris Hilton smock/bag dress thing and flat ballet shoes. Why on earth would you go out of your way to look like that? Of all the stylish celebrities out there, why look like that. It is a most unfortunate look. It has the same tragic tone to it as Posh Beckham's underfed appearance.

I must have looked a bit taken aback when I looked at her and mumbled something about just browsing and then spent another couple of minutes sneaking a few looks at her in fascination.

Speaking of fascination, I have been watching with great disgust and also ghoulish fascination that terrible show called "America's Next Top Model". What a shameful lot of twaddle that is. Awful, just awful to see girls being humiliated all for the promise of a career based on how one looks. I can't stop watching it though. I justify my voyeurism with the adage that everyone on television deserves what they get - that is what the small print is about.

Women's Liberation - ????

Ciao
LC

PMT

PMT - Pre Menstrual Tension

FAT

Two pairs of pants don't quite fit - and I am not so sure they shrunk in the wash.

Everyone ANNOYS me.

FAT

BLOATED

GRUMPY

"F" word featuring heavily in my psyche. Keeps wanting to escape from my mouth loudly but have to set an example and not release it to the world.

Cannot believe a day can start so pleasantly and then a monster crawled in my head. Am going to bed early to get away from myself.

fuck

Ciao

LC

Spring has Sprung

Today is the first day of September and it is Spring which means the warmer days are on their way. I awoke and the sky was blue and I felt that joyful feeling that defies whatever crap may be ahead - not that there was any ahead. S was still asleep and K had gone up to the shops to get the Saturday newspaper. I love weekends just for the fact that I don't have to rush around.

S and I went to The Farmer's Market where he ate a buffalo sausage in a roll and I had my obligatory super strong coffee to give me a kick start. I love Farmer's Markets as the food is great, the atmosphere is peaceful and happy and my money goes straight to the person who grew or made the food - sometimes both. There is a stall there run by two rather young and handsome French men who sell organic and pesticide free sultanas, muscatels, dried apricots and lovely small black currants. They give out samples in tiny paper cups and tell anyone who is happy to listen all the processes that their food goes through before it arrives at the market. I always buy something there as the taste and texture is so different to what comes out of a supermarket. Food should always be of this standard everywhere. When I think of what is on the shelf at supermarkets it seems so wrong. Although the cost is more for some things, the quality is so high and the flavour so intense that you do not need to consume as much to be satisfied. Food that is grown with thought and care is always so much more satisfying.

There is a great coffee cart there that pumps out cup after cup of the most aromatic and flavoursome coffee and the wait is worth it. They grow their coffee in Byron Bay, roast it and bring it down to Melbourne. Nothing beats a cup of coffee made by a professional and passionate Barista. Mmmmm, I can still smell it. S walks around sampling all the food and tends to linger a bit at the chocolate truffle stall, sampling many times the tasty treats.

These Markets are held in different places each Saturday so, with careful planning, I can get there quite often and top up the pantry with healthy and tasty fruit and vegetables (which always last longer than supermarket groceries). Sometimes it is nice to just take time out and not rush.

Ciao

LC