See Skip - I do read your blog.

So, tagged by Skip. Who says if we don't do this then it's proof we're not reading her blog. And I don't want to get on the bad side of her. So here goes.


The rules:

So the deal is, answer the below questions - then tag all your readers - then they need to send a comment saying they have done the tag - so you can read about them!! You also get the added bonus of finding out who follows your blog. :)

1. 5 Things I LOVE to do
2. 5 things I HATE to do.
3. 5 Things I WISH I could do
4. 5 Things that make me happy
5. 5 Things that annoy me.
6. 5 things that make me sad
7. 5 things that make me laugh.

Here goes.

1. 5 Things I LOVE to do.
1. Snuggle with Alexander. He often will come to me and say "I need to snuggle", and we'll either go lie down on my bed, or on the sofa. He'll snuggle in as close as can be and we'll just chat and cuddle. Lots of cuddles. Lots of "I love you"s. It's a moment where the two of us just take time out to love each other. I love that he'll still do this with me, in fact instigate it. I dread him deciding he's too grown up to snuggle with Mama.

2. Dancing with my Sam.

I love being alone with Sam in his room. I'll hold him, his head rests on my shoulder, and we dance. Ella Fitzgerald, Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, Michael Buble, Van Morrison, Eva Cassidy. Whoever takes our fancy. (Simply Red this morning. Sigh). I feel him relax into me, and press his neck closer to my lips for a kiss, he'll hold it there and let me kiss him til he squirms. Bliss.

3. Alone time with Joel. It's so rare these days, I crave it. I'm desperate for more of it, it's when I'm most at peace. Joel's arms around me, his hands, all of it. I love to be with him, without the interruption of little men who want to join in our fun.

4. Read. I'm reading voraciously at the moment. Have read 6 books these past couple of weeks. Just starting a new one, called The Sari Shop.

5. Turn my music up and just let me take it where it will. I've a pretty eclectic collection here and I'm so swayed by music. It can set my moods, change my moods, make me smile, make me cry.


2. 5 Things I HATE to do.

1. Iron.
2. Ask for help. For anything. No matter how desperately I need it.
3. Answer the phone. Honestly. When the phone rings, I feel sick to my stomach.
4. Turn down work. I had to turn down a writing assignment this week. Both boys sick, I was sick, and I have houseguests (more about that soon). But it stung.
5. Fight with Joel. It's been happening a bit lately, and nothing makes me more depressed.

3. Things I WISH I could do.

1. Spend days at a time, curled up with a Chai Latte in Borders, reading to my heart's content. Even better if Joel and I could do it together. Bliss. Pure Bliss.
2. Write more. It's hard to write with Sam or Alexander. They are both demanding (in different ways) and I'm afraid they're young enough that I feel I can't really put them off just to chase my muse.
3. Study. I want so badly to go back to school. So badly. But, as with the above, I don't think that it is possible with Sam at the moment. Maybe when he's a bit older, he'll be a little easier. But for now, I dream of studying Journalism, Writing, Communication. And French, Italian, Spanish and Latin. Philosophy. Oh, to be a professional student, without the worry of money, or what job it could get me. Just to study for th elove of learning.
4. Cook. Create. Without constraints of time or money or whining toddlers (no names shall be mentioned).

5. Exercise. I wish I had the money, and was in less pain. I would do anything to join a gym. I know myself, and I know I'm not disciplined enough to do this alone. I would benefit greatly from a gym and a trainer. Financially, not an option at the moment though.

4. Things that make me happy.

1. My family.
2. Despite the stress, the P&C makes me happy. I'm ridiculously busy with it, but it makes me feel good, and the cameraderie is wonderful.
3. Reading.
4. My best friend Jo, Sisters in law Tam, Melissa and Arlene, my sister Gemma.
5. Writing, and this blogging community.

5. 5 Things that annoy me.

1. Fat days. Bad hair days. You get the picture.
2. People who complain about the school/teacher/P&C, Fundraising ideas etc, but
have no intention of pitching in and helping, or no better ideas of their own.
3. Alexander's new discovery of "Wipeout Australia" and the ridiculous things it makes him do from great heights. I see casts in our future.
4. Rear End Parking at the school. I hate it.
5. Crappy, noisy shopping trolleys.

6. Things that make me sad.

1. Joel. I think he is suffering from depression, and it's making it hard to be happy. He doesn't smile anymore. Yeah. Should probably have been another post of it's own.
2. That my mother didn't get to know my children. She's have LOVED Alexander's reading. She'd have been just so chuffed.
3. My Dad. He's just not the person he was before Mum got sick. He breaks my heart a little more every time I see him. Which, incidentally, will be a lot. He will be living with us (from tomorrow) for the next 3 months. Heh. Another post of it's own?
4. My health. I wish I didn't hurt so much all of the time. Not for me. But for my family. For Joel. This can't be what he signed up for. I could work more and bring in money for the family if I weren't sick. I could be a better mother and wife if I weren't sick. I hate it.
5. Seeing what *isn't* on the news. Seeing how Darfur just doesn't make the news, as noone wants to deal with it. Seeing 'honour' killings not make the news, beacuse noone wants to go out on a limb. Seeing women and children mistreated, unappreciated, and unable to reach their potential, because their society lets them down.

7. 5 Things that make me laugh.

1. My firstborn. The way Xander has a running commentary on EVERYthing. Literally. Like a voice over man. He spends his life being that voiceover man. Cracks us up.
2. My baby. The cheekiest, funniest little man. And he knows it. He knows that a grin from him, and he's off the hook, because we're too busy chuckling at him.
3. My P&C girlfriends. We have fun.
4. Dave Hughes. I swear, I don't want to. Talk about the world's biggest Numbnut. But despite myself, I do find myself smirking somewhat.
5. Monty Python. Holy Grail. Life of Brian. They crack me up. More becuase of the memories than anything else, I suspect.

Now. I'm tagging every person who reads this blog. Leave me a note to say you've done it. :)

Tagged

Tagged by Donna.

The rules of the game:

1. Go to the section of your computer where you store all of your photos.

2. Select the 6th folder.

3. Select the 6th photo from that folder.

4. Post and explain about that picture.

5. Tag 6 other people

Mine.



Pretty self explanatory. A bath with Alexander, just a few weeks old. I know this is before Mum died, looking up at his Daddy. It was one of the very first baths he ever had that he didn't scream, and then from then on, he looooved his bath time.

I'm pretty sure that was taken pretty close to the time this one was, might have been the same day. I think most of you have seen this one.




I'm not sure who there is that's left to Tag. So trying to go for some new people.

Lisa
Lex
Caroline
Renay
Bec
Nicole who has left us hanging since *September*!!!!

Speaking of 6, guess who is?????
Surely not my baby boy.














6 years old. Still the most perfect thing I have ever done. Still the sweetest, most sensitive, loving, shall we say eccentric, delightful little man.

Unfortunate?

Err...Seriously????


Found this over here.


Someone had themselves a bit of a giggle. Or a "Doh" moment.

And I soooo agree with this.



The whole twitter things leaves me slightly perplexed. I'm not sure I really *get* it. I mean, I get how. Just not so much, you know, why????

Smokin' Hot!

I've had my Smokie Greatest Hits song in the car recently, and Xander has decided he just loves it. The other day we got in and I had the radio on.

"No Mummy. We need the other one. The supercool one".

Silence. Everything's 'supercool' at the moment, and my mindreading skills were off that day.

"Which one darling? Warm Love?"
"Nope"
"What's love got to do with it?"
"No. The one with the base guitar in the middle"
Getting somewhere, but still not sure.
"You know mummy. "Oh my kettle..you've got me eating my arm today...I'm floating on the milky waaaaaaaaaaaay".

Ah. Ok then. Of course. Silly, silly me.

The Party

It was ok. I had worked myself up into quite a state by the time we left. I had cut and coloured my hair the day before, and I decided to head on over to my best friend's home to have her straighten it for me. I figured she'd be able to settle me down a bit, or at least get me drunk (says she who doesn't really drink anymore).

I had psyched myself up for seeing my grandparents. I wasn't quite prepared for how emotional they seemed to be at seeing us after so long. I felt a bit odd, they were teary, and adamant that they want to see us,and I'm honestly not sure what I think. It was pleasant enough though and they were pretty enchanted with the boys.

I do have me some cute little kids. Steal the show cute.


I psyched myself up to see my my estranged sister and brother. Seeing my brother was actually pretty great. I don't think we're ever going to be chummy, our lifestyles are really pretty incompatable. But seeing SIL was great, and we will probably catch up soon. In fact, I want to talk about that with you, but will probably devote a post of it's own.

Seeing my sister was difficult. Difficult in that she has this way of pulling me back in every time I see her. I can go years at a time solid in my conviction that she is utterly toxic to me. That my life is far better without her in it.

And then I see her, and I see her daughters, two of whom I loved as though they were my own, and I can feel my resolve slip. It happened again on Saturday night, and I'm still reeling.

I was prepared for hostility from my brother and sister, it wasn't there. I expected it from my sister's partner, he was pretty well behaved on the night, but did not acknowledge my presence. Which works very well for me.

I was prepared for hostility from my grandmother and my Aunt. There was none whatsoever from my grandmother, though the same cannot be said for the Aunt. No loss there, I didn't like her before all of this.

Know what I wasn't prepared for? The impact my mother had on my night. I was fine until the speeches. But of course, any talk of my Grandparent's 50 years of marriage was going to include discussion of their 9 children. Of whom my mother was first.

And there it was. The first 'official' mention of her and my body felt like lead. My head whipped up and my tear filled eyes were matched by the grief I saw in my brother's. Another look, and his wife, my sister in law's blue eyes reflected the loss she felt too, of the first real mother figure she'd ever had. A furtive glance at my sister T and her tears flowed unchecked. G seemed ok, in fact, laughing and chatting to a cousin, perhaps a sign that she was not even nearly ok.

I don't know why it took us all by surprise. Of course she would be mentioned. They loved her. She was their big (tiny) sister. Able, with a raised eyebrow to stop her 6ft brothers in their tracks. Mobbed by tiny nieces and nephews at all family gatherings, taking pride of place with her mother at the table.

Of course she was mentioned. But, oh my heart. The gaping hole she left, the scar I thought would start to heal, has been weeping ever since. Her absense was pronounced. Every one of her siblings got up and made a speech. Her silence was deafening. She should have been there. Their firstborn child, the most eloquent of them all should have stood there, flanked by her siblings, making us cry and laugh with carefully considered and utterly perfect words.

Deafening.

And with every heartbeat, my soul weeps.

Second Thoughts

Tonight is supposed to be a big deal. It is my maternal grandparent's 50th Wedding Anniversary. And I'm happy for them, I really am.

But I've not seen these people in 6 years, since my mother's funeral. I've in fact, had no desire to see just about any of my mother's family since then. There are things that happened that still leave me devestated, and filled with such regret and anger.

I had agreed to go to the party they are having tonight. They want all of the family present, and apparently just about everyone will be there. My mother (who would have been 50 this year) was the eldest of 9. At least 7 will be there tonight, with their respective spouses and children, of which there are many. All of my siblings will be there. I am estranged from two of them. Some of these people hate me, are openly hostile.

I've had months to psych up for it, and until today, was almost looking forward to it. Looking forward to let things go and introduce them to my sons.

But today, and last night, I can't switch my head off. I keep going over and over the things that happened. The things they said, the things the did, the things they threatened me with. THings that I've not actually mentioned here. And I gan't get it out of my head.

I feel sick to my stomach. I feel like showing up there would be saying "It's ok. It's fine. Don't worry about it. You didn't hurt me. You didn't disrespect her. I don't care".

I don't think I can do it. I can't stop shaking, literally and I want to cry or vomit.

God. Please somebody get me drunk. Two hours to go.

How?

How do I password protect an entry? Not the entire blog, just an entry.

And, unless you are a family member, feel free to ask me for the password. I need to talk, but I'd like to protect someone else's details from people who know them.

More.

When I went to bed on Sunday night, I said I was afraid to wake up and see the number. I was gutted to learn, on Monday morning, that the death toll had risen from 84 to 111.

It stands, at this point, at 181 confirmed deaths. 950 homes destroyed. So far. It is not over.

This is gut wrenching. Those poor people. Those poor, poor people. How afraid they must have been. How heartbroken now.

Entire families cowering together, dying together. Families separated as they try to flee the inferno.

To learn that many of these fires were deliberately lit. Deliberately. As in, some horrible person actually, despite the record hot,dry weather, lit a match and started a bush fire. Fanned the flames. Stood and watched, probably with a thrill, them stand tall, climb a tree, move to another.

And now 181 charred bodies have been recovered.

How much higher can this go? How much can be endured for the stricken folk in Victoria.




I'm talking to the girls in the P&C tomorrow. We're going to pick one of the schools that has been damaged and try to do something. I don't know what yet, or if in fact, we can help in any way. But we'd like to try.

Stay safe, everyone.

And, from the ashes, a moment of pure beauty and wonder.

Firestorm.

84. I don't want to go to bed. I don't want to wake up tomorrow and see a higher number.

I wanted to be eloquent, to somehow do justice to this horror. But it's not in me. I feel so helpless, watching part of my country burn. My heart races for the families living in fear. It aches for those who have lost their homes. It is broken for those that have lost their loved ones.



It is frantic for the lives of the brave men and women fighting these fires. Fire fighting is one of the few truly atrusitic callings. These men and women have, and continue to risk their lives to battle these fires. They are away from their homes. They are away from their own families.

The whole country is watching. We are all holding our breath. We are united in one wish. Please, please keep them safe. Please, let us not lose another soul. Please, make it stop. And most of all, keep our volunteers safe.

Gone Quiet.

Says it all really. See you in a week or so. No.Internet. Whatever shall I do? (Though I've read 2 books in the last 48 hours. I want to talk about them later).




I can totally do this, right???????????????????????????????????????????????????????






Crappity Crap crap.

A First

Hey Ma,

Remember that story I wrote in Year 6? The children's story that I wrote, and Samantha Brown illistrated. The one they ended up having bound, and adding as a permanant item in the school library?

Remember the story ("Castaways", Gosh, how corny" I wrote in Year 7? The one you bragged to everyone you met about? When you told all and sundry I'd be a writer?

Remember one day, when Tam and Gem were in Year 11, and they brought home an assignment, an analytical piece they had to write for English? And the Example they were given was a piece I'd written in Year 10? Remember how you felt then? I remember your smile, your eyes as you showed me. I remember the tone of your voice when you told everyone at work.

Well, this one'll grab you. Today, I receieved my first pay check for writing. It wasn't much. Just a couple of hundred. But it's there, sitting in the bank (well, half of it is, the rest went on the car loan). And I made it. By writing.

To quote you...How do you like them apples?

I love you. God, how I miss you. I wish you were here for this one. You'd have been chuffed. Might call Gem later. She's the only one (other than my friends on here) who might 'get it'.

Sleep now. I love you.