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Has it really been TWENTY YEARS since I was living in New York and hanging with the radical environmentalists in Central Park?
TWENTY YEARS since I bought this poster only to carry it around the world for the next 3 years before bringing it home and getting it framed?
I can remember the “edginess” of being an environmentalist in 1990. Seriously. It was so NOT mainstream.
Jeez. Way to make a girl feel old.
Earth Day New York 1990
Boo’s school telephoned me on Friday.
“Ummm, this is Boo’s school. He has had an accident in the playground and we think he might need some stitches in his face. He’s in great distress. Can you come immediately or should we call an ambulance?”
I swear I went into shock before I had even hung up the phone. I don’t remember anything of my drive to the school, but I will never forget his blood-soaked face and shirt and his howling cries when I arrived there.
He had been playing BullRush and had been accidentaly tripped up by a friend. Unfortunately he fell, while moving at great speed, into a wooden seat. His top lip was split completely through and his knees were pretty banged up. Other than that, and the danger that he might have been unconscious for a few seconds after the fall, he was mainly in shock.
I’m not the best when it comes to my own children’s blood. I am THE person you want to have around if it’s YOUR child who’s bleeding, but I’m a mass of jelly when it’s my own flesh and blood’s blood.
Boo was howling that he didn’t want to go to the hospital and I was trying to focus on soothing him and not having a car accident and not passing out myself…
Somehow we made it to the local Emergency room…. which was so full that people were actually waiting outside. A nearby Emergency room had closed down due to a fire the night before and this one was therefore catering for both.
It took a couple of hours to be seen by a doctor, who immediately called for a Plastic Surgeon to consult as the split lip was so serious. Another 2 hours and the Plastics doc got there, only to disappear again after having told our doctor how to stitch it.
It was horrendous. I swear the local anaesthetic didn’t work. Boo was in such agony during the stitching that the doctor was tempted to cut the number of stitches in order to stop his pain. It was unbearable to watch. In fact, I can’t believe that I did watch it. He squeezed my hands so hard that they are still a bit achey today. He screamed. Literally screamed. And he’s not usually scared of pain.
And then he had to have TWO horrible horrible tetanus shots.
And the only thing he wanted for his reward for bravery (I would have given him the world at this point)? Five spicy chicken wings from a local chicken shop for dinner. Sheesh.
And to sleep in my bed.
It’s a DH weekend this weekend. But he wanted to stay with me last night. DH picked him up this morning under strict instructions that Boo is not to over-exert himself, swim, get the stitches wet etc.
Keep your fingers crossed.
Me? I’m still a bit shaky and upset. It’s going to be a big scar (unless he lets me massage him with Vitamin A for months afterwards) and he’ll never be able to grow a mo (no big loss, I guess)… but hopefully his lip shape will be normal and there will be no other consequences. It’s more the horror of seeing my baby in agony, and being reminded of the vulnerability of all that we have. It could have been so much worse.
I’m taking it slow today.
I’m still in a dark dark place… and the energy required to do the things that I HAVE to do leaves me totally and utterly depleted. But I’m still here… and I draw strength and a feeling of connection by reading all my fave bloggy-friends’ posts.
My friend is back in the hospital. In fact, since I last wrote about her, she’s been in and out three times. You can only imagine how awful this has been. I remain optimistic about her long term recovery, however, and this helps me keep in touch with the sliver of hope that my own “funk” will ease soon.
DH has been overstepping his boundaries with the boys. He telephones them every day and night, and yesterday he actually picked them up from school and took them for a “play” WITHOUT TELLING ME. He’s doing this to try to prove to a registrar that he is a great Dad, and to try to make up to the boys for years of not giving a shit, but you don’t do that to a mother who is worried sick because her 10 year old son is 15 minutes late home from school. My brain is imploding because apparently if a mother does this she is “clingy” and “invasive” but if a father does this he is “caring” and “enthusiastic”.
And of course Toto and Boo are trying to look after me emotionally. I try SO hard to hide this stuff from them…. SO hard. But it’s impossible to hide the puffy eyes from crying all day, or the burnt dinner from forgetting that I was cooking at all, or the anger with their father for bringing them home with homework undone and school clothes unwashed, and for interrupting our time together every day.
Mainly it’s just the fact that I cry at the drop of a pin.
This is so not good at this point in the legal proceedings. It’s such a catch-22. If it wasn’t for the legal stuff I wouldn’t BE in this depressive episode. And that’s where my brain catches fire and starts melting and my tear ducts develop a mind of their own.
Still, the boys seem to be okay. Boo laughed at me the other day when I was trying to say something positive about DH. He laughed in a comfortable way… and said “Mum, I know you’re trying to make us feel better, but you don’t have to lie”. It’s so tempting to say “Phew! Okay! Thanks babe….. let’s talk about what a total dish-rag he is!” but no…. I said “I’m not lying darling. ALL parents argue sometimes. Daddy and I don’t agree on what’s best for you at the moment, that’s all.” vomit.puke.bullsh*t.
Today really feels like a day of mourning here in Australia. The death toll from the bushfires keeps rising (currently 76, and 700 homes completely destroyed) and hundreds, if not thousands, of our countrymen will get no sleep tonight as they try to protect their property and their lives.
Those of us who are safe are feeling helpless. A quick tour through many of my favourite blogs shows that this issue is first in all our minds. I guess all we can do right now is donate money or clothes / bedding / toys, and ensure that we don’t waste a drop of water… so that all possible can be directed towards the bushfires.
As well as sorrow and helplessness, I’m also feeling a rage so deep that it has not reached the surface yet. These fires were lit intentionally. It’s unfathomable. Unspeakable.
We in Sydney have had our 40+ degree weekend this weekend. And while most people were travelling from the hotter inland western suburbs to the cooler eastern and northern beaches, my boys and I travelled in the exact opposite direction. Our behaviour was SO unusual today, that we had practically the entire train to ourselves.
So… we sweated our way west…….
… until we reached nirvana.
Oh yes, we went to the “Top Gear Live” performance! Nirvana for a boy about to turn 12 AND for his brother and his Mum. It’s absolutely our favourite telly programme and when we heard that they were coming to Australia, we just couldn’t resist.
It was hot.
And a big part of the experience was walking around looking at sexy cars that cost more than most houses. In the heat.
Formula One vehicle and fans!And then we went inside into the bliss of the airconditioning… to our nosebleed seats, two rows from the top.
… for an exciting show filled with gasoline, testoterone, inappropriate sexual inuendo and a finale of car-soccer!
It was fun. Exhausting but fun.
And then we struggled with 90 minutes of non-airconditioned trains to get home.
“Mum! Look! An Alien must have been murdered there!! Green Blood!”About a month ago I put my hand up to be interviewed for a meme by the wonderful Guera.
Here ’tis…
1. What’s the most outrageous thing you’ve ever done?
The most outrageous thing I’ve ever done has been to pack up and leave Australia on my own without a plan. I had a vague idea of heading west to east around the world, but other than that, I was open to universal intervention and whim.
That trip ended up lasting about 4 years longer than initially planned, and brought more riches into my life (friendships, experiences) than I could have imagined. It also brought drama and some horrendous experiences, but even those are experiences that I’m glad I’ve had, and that I’ve learned and grown from.
2. I know you’ve lived in and visited some amazing places around the globe. If you could travel anywhere in the world (and money was no object) where would you go and why?
My answer to this one changes daily. The problem with having lived in so many places is that I have developed such close friendships with people who live so far away from me. Most days I’d make my choice depending upon the friend that I’m missing the most.
I have an incredibly soft spot for Scotland. In particular, the north-east coast. It might be because of a genetic disposition towards my ancestor’s homeland. It might be because one of my closest friends lives in Glasgow. But I suspect it’s because I am deeply moved by dramatic, changing and unpopulated scenery. I truly feel at peace there.
I also love the south of Italy. Love love love it! I would LOVE to take my boys on a road trip along the Mediterranean Sea from Italy to France, in an open-top car. I would need a ginormous amount of money to that, however! There’s something very frivolous about that part of Europe (in my humble opinion!). I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s not a place I would like to live, and it’s far too crowded for an extended holiday, but a road trip is the perfect way to observe and enjoy from a distance.
3. They’re turning the story of your life into movie. What’s the title and the genre?
This is the hardest question for me of all of them! The genre is definitely Drama. No doubt about that. I don’t feel clever enough or objective enough to make up a title, but if I had to brainstorm one, I’d probably start with “Waiting to climb off the Merry-Go-Round” or something similar. Not clever or zippy enough, but it expresses how I feel.
4. How has blogging changed you?
I was discussing this in a round-about way this morning, with my Glaswegian friend mentioned above. I’m actually not very comfortable sharing my feelings with others irl (in real life) and although I have many friends, I have very few with whom I allow myself to truly feel vulnerable. I’m good at talking about myself quite honestly in terms of retrospective experiences, but when I’m in the middle of things and most needing support, those closest to me are used to hearing me say “I just can’t talk about it right now” and sometimes that “right now” lasts for ever.
Which means that blogging has had an incredibly positive influence on my ability to cope with the drama that life throws my way. I am more comfortably vulnerable in this environment than I am in any other. In other words, I am learning to accept support comfortably.
Perhaps it’s to do with why I chose to become a psychotherapist. I’m much more comfortable listening to and supporting others than I am allowing someone to listen to and support me. And yet here, on my blog, I cherish every supportive commenter and every lurker…
5. What is the worst and best jobs you’ve ever had?
Worst job was selling advertising space for an Art and Antiques Magazine in London. I am SO not a salesperson!
Best job…. motherhood. That was easy. If you’re going to push it and ask me for my best paid job, I’d have to say it’s my work as a psychotherapist. Being paid to help and support others without revealing anything of myself is about as perfect as it gets for me (see question 4!).
Now, if you’d like to be interviewed by me, here’s what you need to do:
I can’t promise that I’ll be able to think up scintillating questions, but I’ll give it a shot.
Thanks to the lovely Wikke, I’ve been tagged to post a photo of the contents of my handbag. Uggh.
I am extremely lucky in that I changed my handbag over on Sunday, and so this one hasn’t had much time to gather all of the gunk that I usually haul around.
So, in no particular order, my handbag contains a black pashmina, my business cards (all identifying features blocked out!), headache tablets, hand cream, lipstick, hair clips, keys, spare battery for my DSL camera, spare SD card for my point and shoot camera, my point & shoot camera (in the Crumple bag), mints, headphones, nail file, pen, tissues, wallet, supermarket receipt, copy of my affidavit, hair comb, old theatre ticket, name tag from the emcee’ing job….. AND the thing that most people probably would not know that I always carry in my bag…. two dowsing pendulums (for when you can’t choose which bottle of wine to buy!)
I’m kidding, of course. I’ve also been known to use them to choose between butter and margarine (in Holland with Wikke!) and which brand of coffee to buy!
I’m intentionally making light of a subject that I actually treat quite seriously. Toto is also into dowsing, and has his own pendulum. I have absolutely no idea how or why they work as well they do, but they have never let me down. It’s all about energy and intuition… two subjects that I believe in but don’t fully understand. And I kind of love it that I let it into my life without having to understand it to the nth degree (unlike many other things in my life).
I tag…. ummmm…….
But you’ve got to play by the rules. No cheating and hiding the embarrassing stuff!
I wanted to be happy. I didn’t want to be a doctor, lawyer, nurse, mummy or anything specific. Just happy.
When I was in my early twenties…
I wanted to NOT have my own children and therefore add to the over-population of the world. I wanted to focus on my career, continue to spend my life living in countries other than Australia, contribute to help make the world a better place, find a kind and funny partner to love and then possibly adopt an unwanted child from a third-world country.
When I was in my late twenties….
I wanted to make my marriage the best marriage that had ever existed. I wanted to have babies and continue contributing my skills to those less fortunate than me. I felt blessed and almost guilty for being so happy.
When I was in my early thirties….
I desperately wanted to fall pregnant. I suffered miscarriage after miscarriage and felt that I had failed at the one thing that I was supposed to be able to do easily.
I wanted to fulfill my husband’s greatest wish as well. He SO wanted to be a father, and my failure to do that easily (yes, medical tests proved that it was all my fault, not his) became a fissure in our relationship.
When I was in my early to mid-thirties….
I wanted to die. I had failed at everything. I failed at being a wife. I was a hopeless mother. I was unable to work. I was convinced that I had had my run of happiness early on, and had nothing but sadness and difficulty in my future. And then…
I thought I was going to die. My cancer diagnosis threw me into a dread that I would leave my boys when they were too young to remember me at all. I wanted to shake their father into changing his priorities and becoming more involved in his sons’ lives. I wanted to live.
When I was in my late thirties….
I wanted my boys to know happiness. And I created a world for them which I hoped would allow them to develop self-esteem and confidence and a knowledge that they are loved. But I was very sad.
Now I am in my early forties…..
I want to be happy. Truly, deeply content. Without concern for the actions of their father. Without a stinging sense of injustice for the experiences I have had with him, with family court, with child support. Without a partner. Without depending on having financial security, but hopefully with a career that can support us without ongoing financial stress..
I want my boys to know that they are enough.
Yep…. sewing stuff. And, in typical Fe style, making lots of them. The boys love them so much that I went and bought “boy fabric” and made them some too.
So….. my heart is full and my fingers are sore (they are so pin-pricked that it hurts to type). Life is good.I don’t know that I’d recommend this to all parents.
This afternoon I decided to sneak up on my kids to make sure that they were doing homework (as they said they were)..
…. and this one was breaking the most golden of GOLDEN rules in our house. That’s right. ”No electronic games or tv during the school week”. 
It was a really simple birthday….. loads of books and one PSP game for F and a big box of choccies for my Mum.
My plan was to spend hours baking a cake (it takes a long time to open the box and add the cup of oil and one egg), but our wonderful WONDERFUL cleaning lady brought this extravagent sugar-hit with her when she came to work today! Honestly…. it would have cost her far more than we pay her!
Oh, and no word from DH. I guess it’s too difficult to make sure you’re near a phone when your youngest child hits double digits.
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