Monthly Archives: May 2016
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Not Speaking About Just Everything…
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Not Speaking About Just Everything…
Everybody's Body Is Beautiful. – RRSAHM
Everybody’s Body Is Beautiful.
Hey jellybeans,
A year ago now, back in the Before, I blogged into We Heart Life‘s I Heart My Body campaign, which officially goes live tomorrow. I thought I’d give you a heads up so you can join in if you’re brave.
It’s a simple, awesome concept. A celebration of all the bodies in the blogosphere- male and female; big and small; pink, tan, dark and pale; with all their beautiful marks, scars, lumps and bumps.
You can show as much or as little as you like. I’m OK with undies. Hell, at least this year they’re pretty matching ones, which is more than I can say for last time round. But it was that usual restless sadness as I took my own photos in the mirror, rather than having my husband to do it for me.
I’m not particularly body concious… even less so now than a year ago. I have more all round confidence, I think, more of a bite-me-I-don’t-care vibe happening, which extends to bikinis and short shorts. Because I’m proud of my body, and I no longer give a damn what anyone thinks. I’m pretty good nick for someone with two little kids, who does minimal exercise and eats crap. My body serves me well.
It’s nourished two children from conception to fourteen months old, giving and giving and still managing not to deplete itself too far. It’s given birth twice, once all by itself, pumping out oxytocin in a manner that still amazes me, forcing a high that I doubt any substance will ever match.
My body has takes piercings and tattoos without complaint. It rarely falls ill, and recovers quickly. My own stamina amazes me sometimes.
I know my own self, body included, at a much deeper level than I did a year ago. I pay more attention to what my body needs… water, sleep, nourishment, pleasure.
It’s a constant evolution I think, for women, the way we feel about our bodies. My body and I are reaching some kind of peaceful halfway point… It treats me well. I respect it, much as I can. And when I need to, it indulges me; allowing me to go without sleep, allowing me to drink too much or stuff myself with sugar, and it recovers with minimal complaint.
Having children, getting older, having to rely more on my own physical strength… all these things are adding up. According to Million Dollar Woman, if you’re a stay at home mum with small children, you lift a tonne a day. A tonne. No wonder we’re all so bloody exhausted all the time. Women’s bodies, they are amazing things, in so many different ways.
So… this is me. Lumpy bits, bumpy bits, pretty bits and all. My body’s not perfect, but I love it just the same… it treats me extraordinarily well.
“So we don’t have flat bellies anymore, but our strong arms can do the seamless transfer- from car seat to cot- without waking the baby. The breasts we once once covered in itsy bitsy teeny weeny bikini tops are no longer male eye-magnets, but they’ve stopped a babies crying. Handsome men don’t scare us anymore. We are mothers, for God’s sake. We can wipe a bottom squeaky clean with the very last wipe, remove all traces of vomit from cashmere, and tell whether a child has a temperature just by feeling it’s forehead with the back of our hands. Don’t f*ck with us.” ‘
Secret Mother’s Business’ by Joanne Fedler.
Previous post: Ink- Part Two.
Next post: Vlogged- More Ink
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: So… now what?
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: The Things We Do For Our Kids…
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Food on the Un-Foodie Blog.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Nanna Naps
One Day At A Time – RRSAHM
One Day At A Time
Some days, I amaze myself. Like today. A good day. Perhaps I’ll only need one temazapam to sleep tonight.
Perhaps. But getting to sleep is the hardest thing. Once I’m there, I’m OK. But getting there is pure torture. Trauma. Whatever.
Fuck. Did you know, would you believe, that I’ve suffered from anxiety and depression, for most of my life? Ridiculous. And would you believe that all my anxiety, all my fear, was focused on this very thing happening. Losing someone close to me. Someone I loved dearly. Having to deal with the pain of that. How could I possibly handle it?
The irony.
What do you tell yourself, when the sense of impending doom proves to be accurate? When your worst fear comes true, and talking rationally to yourself doesn’t help?
You say that you survived the worst. And you got through it. And what the fuck do you have to be afraid of now? Nothing. Anything that happens, I can deal with it. I am so fucking strong.
So strong, that for the first half an hour After This happened, my children knew nothing of anything. So strong, I sheltered them in a neighbours backyard, talked to them normally, about every day things.
I never fainted. Never vomited. Never had to be sedated, admitted to hospital.
For four days, on and off, I sat by Tony’s side in the ICU, and told him I loved him, I forgive him, that I was strong enough, if need be, to survive this, and get our children through it too.
And I wasn’t lying.
I kissed my husband’s body goodbye, while he was still ventilated, for the purpose of successful organ donation. While the reflexes in his spine were still making his feet twitch.
I stood through my husband’s funeral. I spoke. I held his mother’s hand.
And I am here. Back in my house, slowly, a little bit at a time. Rebuilding, in the very scene of my trauma, the soft and exposed centre of my pain. Because I must. To minimise the sense of change, of disruption on my children.
And because this still feels like home. My house. Our house. Our daughter was born here.
I’m a different person to who I was, two weeks ago. It’s not that I’m any stronger. It’s just that now I know that strength is there.
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{ 70 comments… read them below or add one }
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January 26, 2011 at 10:18 am -
My husband shot himself in the head 18 years ago. He didn't tell me he was even thinking of doing that. I was really sad and in shock at first. I had a nice funeral for him but I wish now I didn't. I should not have had anything for him because he put me through some intense sadness. My heart goes out to you. I also think you can collect social security for your children. I have an ideal about what you are going through and I just say take it one day at a time.
- January 26, 2011 at 7:03 am
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Oh Dear God.
You are going to make it through this. You'll do it for yourself and for your kids. You must and you will.
You are a Divine woman Lori. No other way of saying it.
Sending you thoughts of love and peace. Your community loves you.
~Bri
- January 24, 2011 at 11:11 pm
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Lori,I truly get you,understand your writting from your heart,& it hurts like fuck!
You brought tears to my eye`s,thinking of your life…..how quickly things can change.
It will get better hun,but it all takes a long time.
Thinking of you,your strength is amazing. - January 24, 2011 at 12:45 am
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You a strong Lori. You are. Hold on to this courage which is so unique of you alone. xo
- January 23, 2011 at 8:51 pm
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Grace. Just that Lori. Amazing grace. xxxx
- January 23, 2011 at 7:35 pm
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Awful situation but you are awfully amazing to have the strength to get through this.
- January 23, 2011 at 7:01 pm
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It utterly FLOORS me at how well you are doing. What you have gone through is FUCKING AWFUL and unfair, but i would be lying on a floor somewhere in a heap. You, you keep going. You are writing, and while you have your darker moments, you are just…you're doing so well. The clarity with which you write, is just, beautiful.
I still wish this never happened to you, but thank you for writing, for being honest, because it does give many people insight they otherwise might not consider. - January 23, 2011 at 5:26 pm
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I'm cheering you on Lori. From Melbourne. Cheering you on, praying for you constantly, and loving you. xx
- January 23, 2011 at 5:20 pm
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Hi Lori
I found your blog today through Diminishing Lucy's blog.
I feel as though I have intruded upon something incredibly personal and I don't want to intrude. But I just wanted to leave you a note to say that my heart goes out to you and your children.
You seem to be a very strong and capable lady and you will get through this. Although my experience was different I can still feel your pain. I lost my first husband 16 years ago (on the 25th February). He was 28 and I was 24. He was the skipper of a trawler that sank during a cyclone off the West Australian coast. It took a few days to find the sunken vessel and then about 7 weeks to recover his body from it! We had been together for 10 years and only married for 15 months. He was my life.
My life felt very dark and empty for a very long time but the sun did eventually shine again. Just take it one day at a time Lori and don't be too hard on yourself. Tackle the things you can on the days you feel strong enough.
You can do this, you are doing this and it will get easier.
Michelle
- January 23, 2011 at 3:13 pm
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You are so amazing Lori.
- January 23, 2011 at 2:17 pm
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"You never know how strong you are until strong is the only choice you have." No idea who said it but it's true.
- January 23, 2011 at 2:15 pm
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it has been very sad to follow your blog over the last weeks and there is nothing to say that can make it better. only you will know what will, in time. but I do want to THANK you and Tony to have agreed to organ donation to help someone else.
and thank you for sharing your feelings so openly with all of us, but be careful as well, lots of arseholes online and you know nothing will stop them from hurting people. x - January 23, 2011 at 1:39 pm
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Just one step at a time. I know that you are strong woman and you are pulling that strength for your children. You are stronger than you believe and even stronger with all of us and our prayers behind you.
XoXo - January 23, 2011 at 12:28 pm
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No-one ever wants to experience a significant crisis like you have but it does bring out some innate survival mechanisms that give you more strength than you ever knew.
As you said, second by second. You are in my thoughts. - January 23, 2011 at 12:24 pm
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Be kind to yourself. Grief is sneaky and just when you are thinking that you are ok it will jump up and knock you on your arse. Love to you
- January 23, 2011 at 11:06 am
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Quietly in the background. Just popping in with nothing to say, but wanted you ton know that you are not alone. People do care, even if they don't know what to say. Strength and peace, Lori.
- January 23, 2011 at 10:48 am
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Out of the ashes of your previous life and this horrific experience will evolve a new you. You will discover positive aspects of yourself that will amaze you – realizing strength is just one. Be grateful for the good days, know the bad days will pass and keep on talking. As others have said you are truly inspiational. xx
- January 23, 2011 at 10:46 am
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Look after you. Trust me. xx
- January 23, 2011 at 8:39 am
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Thank god for good days. The hope and resolve in your words make me feel hopeful too. You are an inspiration, Aussie Lori. Like someone earlier said, go back and read this post on the bad days. Much Love.
- January 23, 2011 at 7:32 am
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The resilience of the human spirit is an amazing thing and you are testament to that. Your strength is amazing, and yes it will dip and waver, but geez woman, you're doing a bloody good job.
- January 23, 2011 at 6:32 am
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fuck that's an amazing post. very powerful.and clear. and inspiring. I hope the good days continue. There will still be shit days, fuck, of course there will still be shit days but please come back to read this post on those days. You are amazing.
- January 23, 2011 at 5:43 am
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Lori – i have written so many posts inspired by you these past few weeks. I worried that i had got it wrong, was being glib, inexperienced, unrealistic and fatalistic. But in this post i see again the strength of the human soul, and it overwhelms me.
M2Mx
http://marketingtomilk.wordpress.com/2011/01/17/that-moment-part-two/
- January 23, 2011 at 5:37 am
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Soon the "good" or "better" days will increase…but there will always be bad till the end. I'm so happy to read you've shifted into the next gear…I admire you.
- January 23, 2011 at 4:26 am
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Lori, you ARE amazing. Your kids are so lucky to have a mum like you. Your strength, your honesty – just amazing. Just one day at a time. Take one baby step after the other & keep writing & keep letting it out. I totally agree with bekkles above, your words are indeed sending out ripples far & wide, you will be saving lives, I'm sure of it. I've read through your blog and your post on the Black Dog really touched my heart, very close to home for me, that one. Its something no one likes to talk about but it's such a huge part of so many peoples lives that we really do need to talk about it, shout about it from the roof tops and let others know that they are not alone. Let them know that it is ok to talk about how they feel. Yep, you really are one amazing chick. Thinking of you every day and sending out love, thoughts and prayers. Hugs to you. Alison. xx
- January 23, 2011 at 4:14 am
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It is in times of deep crisis that we truly come to know ourselves. Our true selves. Our warrior selves. You are walking through the darkness now, but you carry so much love and light within you. xoxo
- January 23, 2011 at 2:56 pm
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I am glad you posted this Lori….something for you to look back on and read on the "not so strong" days. You ARE strong. You ARE amazing. You ARE a wonderful mummy.
Love you
xoxoxoxoxo - January 23, 2011 at 3:28 am
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*HUGS* I am so glad to hear that you had a good day today. Thinking of you lots.
- January 23, 2011 at 12:41 pm
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Lori, remember back to that horrible day when you told us Tony was in hospital, and you wrote
"The Lori you know is gone."
It's true.
That Lori is gone, you are forever changed by what's happened. The very worst thing has happened, and you're surviving it. In time to come, you're going to re-build your life, and it will never be as it was. But it will still be good, because you'll make it good.
You have so much strength of character. Even on the days when you rant and rave and make no sense, and you feel like giving up, and you feel like you'll never smile again, you're re-making Lori, and you'll make her better, not bitter, because you know now — you can do anything, if you have to. - January 23, 2011 at 1:37 am
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Hear, hear! You have an amazing strength. I wish you were using it in different circumstances, but here you are, surviving the unimaginable. One day at a time.
And hear we are, all at once grieving with you, offerring support (however meagre some cyber words feel) and benefiting from an amazing woman's words. I feel certain your words are making ripples far and wide, and could very well save lives. While I wish you didn't have the experience needed to write them, what you are doing is truly amazing. - January 23, 2011 at 1:02 am
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My heart is with you… My prayers are with you… My love is with you.
- January 22, 2011 at 11:53 pm
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Sending you lots of love and hugs from Eden's blog. xoxo
- January 22, 2011 at 11:46 pm
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Hey spunk. Thinking of you constantly. Your site always makes me want to eat jellybeans.
A few years ago, my friends husband took his own life in their garage and she found him, and bashed the shit out of the car with a baseball bat. Afterwards, she asked me to come over and reverse the car out of the driveway, she never wanted to see it again.
She continued to live in her house for quite some time, with her twin babies. We lost touch, I think she has moved away now, forged a new life. She had to – what were the fucking options?
I distinctly remembering her laminating a whole heap of photos of him, so the babes could play with them freely. It was so sad, and hard, and wonderful to see people surround her with love at such a hard time.
Isn't it nice to know that there's less arseholes in the world than you originally thought?
XOXOX
- January 22, 2011 at 11:33 pm
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This is your Awakening! xxx
- January 22, 2011 at 11:29 pm
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I'm glad that today you were able to see what we all see: that you are strong, that you will do this, regardless. I'm happy you had a better day. I wish you many more to come
- January 22, 2011 at 11:23 pm
- January 22, 2011 at 11:14 pm
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Lori, I take my hat off to you. You are amazing. Keep taking those days one at a time.
- January 22, 2011 at 10:38 pm
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Ditto to everything they all said. Lori, you will get through this and you will come out the other end a strong, loving, beautiful woman – all things you were before, but moreso now.
- January 22, 2011 at 10:24 pm
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Lori you are amazing, you can do it and you will.. as unfair as it is, as much as it hurts, you will do it, and one day it will be easier.. I cant imagine the pain of all you are going through, i feel for you and wish we could turn back time and bring him back, undo the moment when it all happened….. Be proud of how strong you can be and draw on that when you need to.. Remember he loved you so much, you were his world, never ever forget that… I send you so much love and strength and hope one day, like today you can have many good days again
- January 22, 2011 at 10:08 pm
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Everything you need is inside you. Continue to trust in yourself.
- January 22, 2011 at 9:25 pm
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You are amazing not only because you have to be but because that is the way you roll. I hope that your discovery helps you take those new steps
- January 22, 2011 at 9:12 pm
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Your strength is inspiring Lori <3
- January 22, 2011 at 9:11 pm
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I wish I had half your strength, Lori. Your children have the most amazing mother.
- January 22, 2011 at 9:01 pm
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Hi Lori. I can see from this post that you are getting stronger every day. You are so brave and are doing an incredible job just to even breathe. Your children have an amazing Mama. Wishing sleep comes quickly for you tonight. Sending all my love ~ Tina x
- January 22, 2011 at 9:00 pm
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You're strong. You're amazing. And I am glad you can see that, because you're going to need to know it. xo
- January 22, 2011 at 8:57 pm
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I'm so glad you are having a good day. No doubt there will be more as well as more bad days but there's lots of support here Lori to help you find your strength. Thinking of you and wishing you peace
- January 22, 2011 at 8:48 pm
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I have been thinking about you since reading your last post, trying to find any words. But there are none. So just know that you are doing amazing. Take each day,hell, each minute at a time. X
- January 22, 2011 at 8:24 pm
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You're an amazing person Lori. So human, so real, so strong. Your children are so lucky to have you, and you protected them with your strength. Sleep well xx
- January 22, 2011 at 8:19 pm
- January 22, 2011 at 8:19 pm
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I'm so sorry Lori, I can't find any wonderful optimistic magical comforting words. But I am still here, reading your posts, and thinking about you. And hoping for you. xxxCate
- January 22, 2011 at 8:17 pm
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Oh Lori my Lori. You are brave beyond words. So brave.
And remember…what doesn't kill can only make you a super badass. There's the smile. Love you, punkin.xxxxxx
- January 22, 2011 at 8:14 pm
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I love your strengh. You rock Lori. I hope the good days start to come more and more for you. Can't tell you how much I admire how you are handling his – even thou I know you have no choice.
- January 22, 2011 at 8:06 pm
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Mummy warrior, you make us all proud xx
- January 22, 2011 at 8:05 pm
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Focus on that strength. YOUR strength. You are being tried to the limit but you will make it through, surrounded by love.
- January 22, 2011 at 7:57 pm
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Wow. You're amazing. This post really moved me.
- January 22, 2011 at 7:52 pm
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Good on you for being strong. One step at a time…
- January 22, 2011 at 7:45 pm
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And it's your strength that will get you through even the worst days.
I'm glad today was a better day!!
- January 22, 2011 at 7:40 pm
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Strength is funny like that. xxx
- January 22, 2011 at 7:31 pm
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It seems pointless to comment when I don't know what to say except that I have tears in my eyes reading your post. In my way, because of what we went through with Erin, I understand what you're saying about surviving the doom. I know it's not the same thing, it's just something I can understand I guess.
- January 22, 2011 at 7:29 pm
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Oh Lori. When I grow up I want to be as strong as you. Xoxo
- January 22, 2011 at 7:27 pm
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You are so amazing and oh so, so strong. Keep on going. With love, Christie xx
- January 22, 2011 at 7:27 pm
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Three words – you fuckin' rock.
Three more – I love you.
xoxoxoxoxo - January 22, 2011 at 7:24 pm
- January 22, 2011 at 7:20 pm
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thats it Lori just one step at a time just little steps ((HUGS)) sweetie
<3<3<3 - January 23, 2011 at 1:14 am
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I'm so glad you are realizing your strength, because your children need you.
- January 23, 2011 at 1:13 am
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The only words I have for you were some written in a card to me when my daughter died. I have no idea who first wrote them "You never know how strong you are, until being strong is the only choice you have". Keep on keeping on, and you are in my thoughts and prayers x
- January 22, 2011 at 9:40 pm
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As I said today toughest chick I know. It was so awesome to see you my darling. I'm here for whenever you need. One day at a time. xoxo
- January 22, 2011 at 9:24 pm
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My thoughts are with you. My close friend passed away last month in tragic circumstances. It is still so surreal and so hard to comprehend why things like this can and do happen to good people.
- January 22, 2011 at 7:29 pm
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I agree, you are amazing. And incredible, strong and vibrant woman. Who will have bad days, and weak moments, and impossible to face the world hours. But you will get through it, because there is no other option. xx
- January 22, 2011 at 7:23 pm
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It's amazing. The strength that we find within ourselves when we need it the most. We go through life thinking, "I'd Never survive this." "I'd NEVER be able to live through that." But, when life slaps us HARD with life-altering-bring-you-to-your-knees-tragedy, there it is. Strength. The same strength that we always knew we'd need in a time like "this", but never knew existed, let alone had. And with that strength, and love and support, the pieces will fall back into place. It's a different puzzle now, to the one it used to be, but the pieces will still fit.
We're still here for you L. Everyday. Always. xx
- January 22, 2011 at 7:22 pm
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You are amazing xo
Previous post: Trauma.
Next post: There is no shame in writing.
Star. – RRSAHM
Star.
My daughter loves birds. She always has done, since she was tiny.
Her aunt bought her a budgerigar a few months ago; a pretty, sweet, pale blue bird that had been hand-fed but not hand-raised. While comfortable enough with people, you can’t touch it.
The bird’s name is Star. Star is most definitely a male bird. But my Bump steadfastly refuses to accept this. “No, mummy. Star is a girl birdie!!!” So Star has been given official pronoun status.
As much as my daughter adores her bird– she sings and chats to him, enquires about his day and if he’s “okay”, hugs his cage to say goodnight– there’s something about keeping a bird in a cage that feels shameful and sad.
Star.
My dad kept birds when I was a teenager– I remember feeding tiny ugly baby birds with a spoon, their spiky quill feathers just sprouting and their beaks huge compared to their scrawny bodies. But that felt different. Those birds were either outside, together, in conjoined cages, or hand raised and kept inside as companions; almost flightless but free to roam by foot, or on a human shoulder– for hours each day.
They say Leonardo DaVinci made a habit of buying caged birds and releasing them back into the wild.
I don’t think breaking my daughter’s heart like that is an option here. And Star seems happy enough. He chatters away to himself, plays in his cage. He sings and squeaks. He’s taken to imitating the sound on rubber-soled shoes walking on our vinyl floor.
But occasionally, during the day when I move his cage to sit it in the sun streaming through the lounge room windows, Star will hear the calls of native birds in the gum trees outside. And he’ll respond, loudly and furtively.
The sound gives me a funny pang of hurting somewhere deep in my guts. It makes me ask questions about myself.
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{ 12 comments… read them below or add one }
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July 20, 2013 at 3:17 pm -
Have you ever read the poem “I know why the caged bird sings” by Maya Angelou. This post made me think of that. Great poem.
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July 20, 2013 at 10:06 pm -
Hey Marie, I haven’t thought of that poem for years. I remember hearing when I was about twenty. On Oprah, I think, of all places.
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July 19, 2013 at 10:29 pm -
Just agreeing with prev posters. I knew nothing about this ’till yesterday but have been researching to determine the sex of the budgie I’ve just inherited. And yup, from what I’ve read, Star is a girl birdie!
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July 19, 2013 at 8:27 pm -
Star is a female. You can tell by the colour about their beak. If it is a beige/brown colour that means she is female. If it is blue, it is a male.
A Daft Scots Lass recently posted…Little Shop of Boerewors
- July 19, 2013 at 4:25 pm
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Birds born in captivity will not survive in the wild, they haven’t been taught, as babies, to fend for themselves in the wild. Don’t feel guilty then about keeping your budgie in a cage, it wouldn’t survive if, like DaVinci, you set it free!!!
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July 19, 2013 at 4:18 pm -
So I could be mistaken from the pic Lori but Star looks like a girl to me. Budgies with a brown cere (nose) are girls and blue for boys. Might be hard to tell in the photo though
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July 19, 2013 at 2:12 pm -
Have you thought of getting Star a friend to share his cage with? I’ve bred and raised baby cockatiels, and they are free to roam the house, and are very much part of the family.
Lisa@Circle of Toast recently posted…Life and Death At the Library
Previous post: The New Wiggles.
Next post: Ghost Hunting in The Rocks, Sydney.
Mummy? – RRSAHM
Mummy?
Mummy? Heya,
My toddler, bless his little Thomas the Tank socks, is just a bubbling brook, a torrential torrent of words at the moment.
It took him such a long time to talk ‘properly’, in a manner that would satisfy my in-laws. He was one of those delightful babbling babies. His “mamambabadada’s” were lyrical, like music. I guess everyone thinks that bout their kid, huh…? Whatever. Lovely old nannas in the shops on pension day would smile and nod and say, in that matronly way that they do, “Just you wait till he starts talking! You’ll never stop him!”
How very right they all were.
In the same manner that he never stops moving, my little Chop also never stops verbalising.
On one dishpan hand, I adore it. It’s just the sweetest thing, being given an insight into the world through the eyes of a little person. After all, I now know what makes the Chop happy- “Trains and the Bump and Nonna and cupcakes and ice cream and TRAFFIC LIGHTS!!”. And who woulda thunk that Whitney Houston’s “Wanna Dance With Somebody” sounds like rainbows? (“Mummy? Rainbow song on? Turn it up?”)
On the other hand (this one stained with fingerpaint), my darling, sweet, verbal little toddler is driving me up the freaking wall.
It’s not the talking. I’m a bit of a talker myself (did you guess that…?) and I love having someone to chat to.
It’s the constant, continual, never ending use of the word “mummy”.
I know, I know. I’m a right proper bitch.
But Sunny Mummy I ain’t. (You probably guessed that too…?)
Allow me to give you an example of what I’m up against here.
Every single sentence begins- and quite often ends- the word “mummy”.
“Mummy?”
“Yes, Chop?”
“Mum?”
“Yes, Chop?”
“Mummy?”
“Yes Chop?!”
“Mummy, that traffic light over there is….”
At this point, the Chop is generally distracted by something else.
“Mummy?”
And this is where Mummy serious considers lifting her own ban on drinking and visiting LiquorLand at 11am.
I’m reminding myself, it’s just a phase. I’m reminding myself how cute it is, how much I will miss this when he’s older.
I’m reminding myself, they probably have harsh and appropriate penalties for parents who lock their children in their bedrooms. Even with plentiful food and water available. (I’m joking, people. Joking. I know. I am just so freaking insensitive sometimes.)
But I’m actually starting to wonder which is more fashionable and easier to match with existing ‘mum-drobe’ of jeans, trackie-daks, t-shirts and cardigans..
These….
or, ya know, these…?
Leave a Comment
{ 22 comments… read them below or add one }
- December 10, 2010 at 2:52 pm
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I use ear plugs sometimes. Seriously.
- December 10, 2010 at 8:34 am
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I'm getting me some of those muffs too. Mr3 suffers badly from verbal diarrhoea (or however it's spelt). Badly. So I suffer too.
- December 8, 2010 at 10:38 pm
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My son is also a talker – had over 100 words by the time he was 18 months and never shuts up!!
I can't tell you the number of times I've pleaded with him "Please, could you just give Mummy 2 minutes of no talking!!" Especially in the car!! OMG!!
His little sister is going to be just as bad I think, although she doesn't have any words yet – she definitely has a LOT to say.
My poor hubby – it's a wonder he can ever get a word in with the 3 of us! Lucky is the strong, silent type! - December 8, 2010 at 12:21 pm
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My kids are 9 and 12 years old.
If I hear Mum one more time, I may snap. But now it's because one of them wronged the other in some way and they are calling for me to referee. Or? They are repeating my name because I haven't answered them BECAUSE THEY HAVEN'T GIVEN ME A CHANCE to get a word in edgewise.
- December 7, 2010 at 7:58 pm
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Right there with you hun!!
- December 7, 2010 at 2:50 pm
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I hear you! My son uttered his first word at 7 months old and has not stopped commentating every minute of every day since! Like you say, it does make for good company, even if the sounds of silence would be welcomed at some intervals during the day!
- December 7, 2010 at 10:25 am
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The Badoo and Chop would be stereo together. And we could wear matching muffs. x
- December 7, 2010 at 4:56 am
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personally I enjoyed the 2nd pair more… Yep it is both a joy and a nightmare when they start…
- December 7, 2010 at 12:52 am
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Miss M told me last night to 'quiet my bum'!! It truly is Devine the way little ones are so honest. But on the other hand….. They do need to learn some tact!
- December 6, 2010 at 9:38 pm
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I hear ya! Put me down for a pink pair, please.
The pic of Chop is adorable! - December 6, 2010 at 9:25 pm
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I need some of them as well!! Both my girls will happily call me over and over and I never get a response to my "yes?". There have been days I have changed my name and not told anyone what I changed it to…
- December 6, 2010 at 8:58 pm
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Not the pink ones, you'd have to co-ordinate everything else, with the grey ones you can wear anything.
Chop is gorgeous!!
Wait until the Bump starts and they learn to argue for your attention…. - December 6, 2010 at 7:49 pm
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wow! i need me a pair of the fluffy pinky ones please where??? i want then bloody NOW!!!!!
- December 7, 2010 at 6:25 am
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Well, if you read my blog last Monday, you know that you can thank Chester Greenwood for those1
- December 6, 2010 at 7:17 pm
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What is it with having to announce your name every time before they start speaking?? even if your the only one there is always 'mummy, mummy, mummy…' I have a rule that if they call me they better have something to say, so it's quite often 'mummy', 'yes', …pause…'I love you'. Sounds sweet, but not every hour on the hour!! xxxCate
- December 6, 2010 at 4:19 pm
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Unfortunately for me, it isn't a phase. Anya who's 7, still calls me all the time, & I reckon she believes the word "mummy" is a form of expression. What's more annoying is this scenario: "mummy?", "yes, what is it?", "NOTHING".
- December 6, 2010 at 2:53 pm
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Mummy, you are HILARIOUS! xx
- December 6, 2010 at 2:50 pm
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Oh my gosh, his picture is so adorable! I remember somedays when my children were younger, by the evening time, I would wish that they would call me anything rather than Mom. I was mom, mom, mom-ed all day long too!
- December 6, 2010 at 2:27 pm
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Oh.My.God – i have a pair of those pink ones! They're made of rabbit fur and my host parents gave them to me the year i lived and worked as a nanny in the US. They might look weird ( or insanely awesome! ) but they really come in handy when the temp gets down to -24 degrees….
- December 6, 2010 at 2:04 pm
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They would look totally hot. They would also be very hot come the heatwave
- December 6, 2010 at 2:23 pm
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I hear ya. Although if it is just a phase, can someone please tell me when it ends? Miss4 still starts every sentence with 'mama'..and its been over 2yrs now (with Miss1 recently starting too)..argh my ears are bleeding
- December 6, 2010 at 2:08 pm
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I need them as well
Previous post: A is for Total Awesomeness.
Next post: Kristin.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Soul Cancer.
Clown
Clown
I take my children to the circus this weekend, for what I thought was the first time ever. Until I remember that Tony and I took the Chop once a long long time ago, before the Bump was born. I can only just vaguely recall it. The Chop remembers it better than I- it’s him that reminds me, mentioning his dad for the first time in the two weeks since he’s started Big School.
I adore the circus- I always have done. There was very little entertainment in the town where I grew up. The circus was a bi-annual highlight. I love the skill, the music, the colour and sparkles. I love the applause and the laughter. I love the smell of a heavy vinyl tent, buttery popcorn mixed with the faintest whiff of greasepaint.
I think that’s the only thing I miss about going to an animal-free circus, like this one was. Without the heady, fermenting stink of a fantasy barnyard- straw mixed with elephant dung, contrasting against the burnt sugar smell of fairy floss…. It’s not quite the same, not quite as exotic.
That’s OK. The smell is all I miss. I remember, a smoke-like apparition becoming more solid as the Chop mentions our last circus visit. There were one or two performing elephants there last time. A herded handful of sad, dusty, shaggy lions. Watching them slink through a caged entrance to the ring, looking distrusting and p*ssed off and depressed enough to be spiteful… it was just sad. I can still remember their growling, somewhat pathetic and desperate, only just audible under the pumping techno music, the sweltering stage lights of the Big Top.
“Will there be lions at this circus?” asks the Chop, and I tell him no, and explain why- it’s cruel and unnecessary and lions like to be where they can run around and play.
I’m disappointed for him, slightly, but I’m relieved as well. For my kids, for myself, for my conscious. The older I grow the less I am able to stomach the idea of seemingly proud creatures cowed and coerced before cheering, paying crowds.
And a circus is sad enough with exotic animals, really. I don’t know if it’s just me; if a traveling circus simply pings at my romantic, dark side. Maybe it’s a result of those movies I used to watch with my Gran, black and white films filled with melodrama, where beautiful women had knives thrown at their broken heart by the dashing, dark magician they assisted.
It’s possible that was it, the reason seeing a circus performance always left me somewhat pensive as a child, in ways (weltschmertz) I didn’t even understand. But I think the older I am, the more it’s the reality of a circus life that makes me sad, rather than the romanticism of it. I’ve always wanted to run away and join the circus– who hasn’t? It’s all those things I mentioned- the lights and costumes and make up. The excitement. The applause.
But then you look at the reality of it… the constant traveling. The damn hard work. Once I realised, probably in my early teens, that all the performers did double-duty before, during and after the show; working as roustabouts, ticket-takers, riggers and carnies, people-watching became my favorite element of any circus. Spotting who did what while they weren’t in the ring. And pointing it out to my fascinated, wide-eyed son today was all the awesome bits of parenting, rolled into one.
The man who released balls into a turning clown-head game for us was, in fact, the circus clown and an expert at slapstick, at mimed audience participation. The lady who sold us popcorn later appeared on stage with a troupe of trained dogs, much to my daughter’s delight. Twin acrobats showed us to our seats. And the crowd’s roving photographer- who then sold over-exposed family photos for ten dollars a pop at intermission- re-appeared at the end of the show on the Wheel Of Death. Which was one of the damn coolest, scariest circus acts I’ve ever seen.
Our circus photo. Check out the kid photo-bombing us in the background.
The photos must be a new money-spinner for traveling circuses, introduced with the advent of cheap digital technology. And after watching the amateur photographer perform his day job- skipping with a rope atop a metal cylinder that’s rotating fifty foot high in the air- it was kind of difficult to say ‘no’. Of course. I guess that’s part of that sadness of it, too- with insurance and equipment and training and costumes and travel costs, would this place make a profit at all? Or be just struggling to break even?
I don’t know, and I suppose it doesn’t really matter. My kids- my son especially- loved the circus as much as I do. I watch my emotional little boy closely for signs of that same melancholy that overcomes me at the circus, and see none. Only once does he react, and that’s when a man- a dad, at the show with his wife and two small children- is called up on stage and pleasantly ridiculed by the circus clown.
“I wish that was you, Dad!!” chimes in a little girl in the row behind us… and I feel a wave of sadness and longing roll of my son, who snuggles in closer to my side.
But that’s OK. It’s nothing like the huge, gaping hole of a year ago; when we felt the absence of a fourth person in our family like a missing limb. Today, we did the circus. Just the three of us. And it was fun. It never occurred to me, at any point, that I needed another pair of hands, that it was just too difficult to do this by myself.
We are family, and today we went out like families should.
Just we three. And that’s just fine.
{ 5 comments }
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Soul Cancer.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Washed Away.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: The Things We Do For Our Kids…
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Possible Indicators That You Have PMS And Everyone Should Clear Out and Go To Hell
ConvoVlogged- What Do You Hate About HouseWork? – RRSAHM
ConvoVlogged- What Do You Hate About HouseWork?
I don’t think there’s anyone who really, really likes housework. Mums especially, because it’s just so damn repetitive. Bloggers especially, because the longer we spend away from our keyboard or iGadgets, the more like a severe narcotic withdrawal it feels like.
Enter my fellow bloggers Emma from What’s In Emma’s Brain, Zoey from GoodGoogs and Glowless from Where’s My Glow? Let’s talk housework, ladies- which particular chore is the most torturous?
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{ 11 comments… read them below or add one }
- December 16, 2011 at 11:20 am
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Busted! I normally try to be careful with that too- fair call, Oldie, I'll watch the 'mum' tag in future
- December 16, 2011 at 10:41 am
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Good work on the video.
I think what I dislike the most is being the only one who has to do everything inside and outside the house.
I dislike being the one who has to decide what we have for dinner .. every.. single.. bloody.. day.
And I dislike being the one who has to do all the cooking when I have a mobile-attached teenager in the house who can cook very well.. but would prefer to out-wait me in the hope of talking me into Take-away poison.
Is it possible we could use the word Parent instead of Mum for all of those who are raising their kids? There are a lot of Dads out there on their own doing this parenting thing.
- December 16, 2011 at 9:37 am
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I laughed my head off! Great video, well put together!
My jaw almost dropped when you mentioned laundry! My husband I once had a "Mount Laundry" standoff which lasted for….18 mths! Yup!
I wash the clothes with pleasure (well, the machine does) but I despise the folding and putting away!!! So I told my hubby (over and over till it sunk in) that it was his chore …He's finally back to doing it once a week (mount laundry never gets to be a mountain anymore…more like a wee hillock).
And, oh my god, washing the dishes pisses me off something rotten BECAUSE I have a dishwasher, yet if I don't RINSE and scrub them, then the specks of dried food actually MELD into them as if I'd used some kind of a kiln?!? I rant about the inefficiency of dishwashers (and we've had more than one brand over the years! They're all crap, the TV ads mislead you, you have to scrub and rinse!)I told my husband before we married that I was not the stereotypical housewife…never would be and that he has to pull his weight around the home too.
(Ironing only happens if we're heading out to go somewhere posh!)
Sorry this is long…over and out!
- December 16, 2011 at 5:56 am
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I love this…and this is why my family wears wrinkly clothes out of the basket, because I hate HATE putting them away.
- December 16, 2011 at 4:00 am
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Dusting! I HATE dusting, and it turns out I am VERY allergic to dust-mites (really!)
- December 16, 2011 at 2:49 am
- December 15, 2011 at 9:04 pm
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Cleaning the shower. I wear glasses so when I'm having a shower I can't see if its dirty or not… hence why it usually takes so long for to get around to doing it.
I gave up ironing when I had my second child 13 years ago – there are far more important fun things to do then bloody iron!
Dusting every other day?? oh dear god you have to be kidding?
When I'm rich and famous I'm paying someone to do this shit for me!
- December 15, 2011 at 10:50 am
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I just saw this over on Good Googs. You ladies made me laugh. Loved the combined vlogging effort.
Toilets are my hated household chore. Cannot stand cleaning them, but apparently I'm the only person in this household who know how.
- December 15, 2011 at 10:24 am
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LOVE THIS LORI. Bloody beautifully edited!
I laughed when you said you had to go out and buy an iron for Tony's shirts. And I love how Glow lets her dishes drip dry .. that's called, "letting God do them."
Emma and Googs, you guys were unreal too. UNREAL.
xx
- December 15, 2011 at 10:02 am
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I really really loved this vlog. Maybe it's because it combined some of my most favourite bloggers.
I am with you and Glow on ironing. I don't do it. Point blank. The only time I iron is when i'm sewing, and that's only because I really have to and I do spend 98% of that time swearing because I fucking hate it.
I love washing. Don't mind folding, and Bluey puts his own clothes away, as does Mr Black, so I only have Greenie and I to do, but I hate bringing it in. Only because it's usually in that time frame of "after school, doing homework and cooking dinner" so I feel pressured and rushed, and it's still damp before then, and I just don't do housework after dinner.
I find the chores I hate change with the house I'm in. Here I hate kitchen chores, the old place I didn't mind them. Here our kitchen is shit. It looks dirty no matter what, and with kids eating at least 3 times a day it's not long before it's messy again. Maybe if I only had to clean it once a day I'd hate it less?
A chore I hate is bed making. I don't make beds. I pull the covers back and that's it. Fuck bed making.
I like your idea about the dust. I think i'm going to have to steal that one. I'm tired of dusting every other day. Where the fuck does all this dust come from?
- December 15, 2011 at 8:49 am
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I like the group vlogg!
And I'm so with you on the folding and putting the clothes up. I wait until there isn't a speck of clean clothes in the entire house for anyone before doing the laundry and then it's a massive mad dash effort to do it all.
I don't mind dusting, though. And vacuuming. I like doing that.
Dishes? Depends on the day whether or not we love or hate each other…
Previous post: Internet Dating 109- First Do No Harm.
Next post: Corporate Whoring, Part Two- Boobies.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: The Things We Do For Our Kids…
Backyard Graffiti. – RRSAHM
Backyard Graffiti.
“Imma spark up a thought off every surface in this room,
And just sit back and watch it all ablaze…”
I will miss my lovely lush backyard. It’s a good thing we’re moving at the tail end of winter… if it were spring, I might not be able to stand it.
Most of the ornaments and other bits and pieces that make up the fairy garden will stay where they are. I like the thought of people finding them one day, a fairy garden buried around a tree stump. The grass has already grown over some of the fairies, swallowed them almost completely, it’s been so long since I put them there.
Two years, in fact. The TinyTrainHouse has been good to us.
There’s a small outdoor laundry in the backyard of the TinyTrainHouse, just a few metres from the back door. It’s fairly rudimentary structure but it has power and water connected, shelving and storage space installed. It’s become my ‘office’. Somewhere I can sit and smoke cigarettes and type on my iPad, or browse Reddit on my phone once my children have (finally) gone to bed.
A week or so after I first moved into this house, I happened to have a pencil in the laundry shed with me. And, in what seemed like a good idea at the time, I drew myself a little pencil clown over the light switch next to the door in the laundry.
I don’t remember who wrote or drew the next instalment for our own personal living, expanding work of urban art. But in the almost two years since I drew the clown, most of my friends and some of my family have left their mark on the walls of the laundry in one way or another.
Some of the writing on the walls is awesome. Some of it’s awful. Some of it’s inspiring. Some of it’s illegible. Only once have I requested the removal of a pencilled sentiment. Somebody that I used to know wrote up a joke that managed to be racist, sexist and pretty damn disgusting, all at the same time; and seemed baffled when I requested he scrub it out.
Other than that, all graffiti is fair game. It’s been an interesting experiment, to say the least.
Given that we’re moving out of the TinyTrainHouse, it seemed sad not to immortalise the artwork on the walls of the laundry on my blog.
I’ll have to start some new kind of instalment at the house in Melbourne, when we get there. Probably one that doesn’t require writing on walls, given that we’ll be renting. I’ll keep you posted. Until then, here’s the best of what’s written on the walls at my place.
Song lyrics
Quotes from books.
Proverbs
Nonsense.
Post Secrets..
Occasionally there’s even real-looking art scrawled on the walls…
…all of it is courtesy of my friend Kristabelle.
The laundry walls. Not pretty. But interesting to read.
More pics recorded for prosperity on Flickr.
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{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
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August 5, 2013 at 9:18 pm -
I love it. It’s a bit like having a diary but you let your friends occasionally scrawl in it so it isn’t just your perspective.
Could always try chalk at the new place. That way you can wash it off the walls when you leave. -
August 5, 2013 at 7:17 pm -
I love it. So very ‘hippy’, so very, very cool. I’ll have to make a foray over to Flickr to check the rest out. I used a thin sheet of MDF up against a wall to do similar (mine was just a collage of interesting pics snipped out of magazines) in a rental. Maybe that will work in your ‘new’ place?
Hugs
Previous post: WorryWart.
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Random Ramblings of a SAHM: In The Powder Room
Clown Paint (Part One, Faces). – RRSAHM
Clown Paint (Part One, Faces).
I wear make up like a mask.
I love it, the craft and artistry of it. When I was a child I dreamed of being a special effects make up artist, a mortician, a beautician and a nail technician. That was, of course, not even a considerable option– I was ‘smart’, and had to ‘make the most of that talent’. A university degree wasn’t required to be a make up artist, so, in patriarchal eyes, that was never, ever going to be a suitable occupation for a prodigal daughter.
I don’t think running away to the circus to be a clown was on the game plan either, really. But that’s the way things turned out. And in that ‘immature’ occupation, I found that intense satisfaction that comes with playing with colors and shades on faces, rekindled and begging to be quenched.
I became, overnight, a ‘professional’ clown, fairy and face painter. For the first three or so months of my new job I was awful to the point of feeling a stomach churning sense of sympathy and regret for my pint-sized party guests as they left the fairy’s face painting chair with a childlike rendition of a butterfly, or a pussy cat, or the eternally popular SpiderMan, slapped onto their face in the most precise way my nervous hands could manage. Which was, in all honesty, not very precise at all.
But somewhere along those first few months, clowning morphed from weekend cash–in–hand to a full time, phone answering, party booking occupation. Being the soapy mind-sponge I am, I began to take in the material around me– magic tutorials; balloon bending instructions; tomes of face painting leaflets written by faux–fairies all around the world; and skinny yellow readers written for people with a evading age of twelve that, nonetheless, gave lessons on juggling, story telling… and clown paint.
Osmosis by fascination.
It took six months to develop a paint and a face that was my own, that belonged to Lilly. The features were mine but exaggerated, playful, large smudges in primary colors. Happy yellow stars on smiling cheeks. Cornflower Blue crosses wiped from across eyes. A tiny dot of a red nose, a geisha–style love heart over my lips.
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| Lori, clown- circa 2005. |
And long black eyelashes extended from the corner of each eye, a traditional sign of shock for mimes, femininity for speaking performers.
My costume and make up was malleable, and came in graded layers of formality. Being a clown-chameleon is essential when you consider the humid heat of Australian party season and the simple pain–in–the–arseness of costuming up to complete formal attire– a wig, a white face, and all the literal bells and whistles that went along with my babydoll smock, oversized bloomers and humongous shoes– three of four times a day, three or four days a week. For a parade or a formal function, a gig where a clown’s purpose is simply to provide color and movement, a full regalia was almost always necessary. But the closer your potential for direct interaction with the public, the less of a masquerade you become. A too–muchness about you tends to make a clown unapproachable and potentially terrifying to most small children and any clown–phobic adults. So you loose the wig and instead construct high, bunched pony tails stuffed with flowers. You make yourself up only with brightly hued, long lasting crayons, leaving out the layer of white grease paint used to make your face a blank canvas, with it’s smeary un-washability and distinctive, nostalgic smell.
As I developed my own mask, my face painting gradually improved, too.
Learning to make tiny chubby faces resemble cartoon heroes, small animals and ethereal butterflies wasn’t so much akin to shaping balloons (everything is just a dog, with parts shortened or elongated); or feeling a magic trick suddenly ‘work’ with the sound of an audible ‘clack’ deep in your psyche (practice, practice, patter, practice. Over and over until you watch yourself in the mirror and your motions are so fluid that to you, the trick the obvious and vulgar– that’s when it becomes smooth enough to fool people. The magician’s oxymoron, the perfect misdirection– trick yourself into believing you are doing nothing at all, and let your audience visualize their own illusions from the vapors of your actions). Face painting is a talent built and learned slowly, patiently. You gather knowledge on what to use, how to use it, how to elicit the trust of the little people sitting before you. There’s all those social skills that make or break a performer– when to back off, when to launch for laughter, how to adjust your body language to mirror your audience, how to make big kids feel cool enough to play along with the little ones by suggesting a camaraderie, some kind of secret adult role that frees them to play like a child. (‘Play like a child…’ And that’s a beautiful thing. It occurs as I’m writing this, that eventually you do that for the last time ever. Do you remember the last time you were a child, before you grew up completely…? Was it with the permission of someone else, someone older, doing you a favor you never even thought about…?)
All those social restraints and rules are so relevant when you’re sitting, a head lower than most of the children standing around you, hot and slightly flustered and losing track of who’s next in line. Being a face painter in a busy venue often feels like being in the eye if the storm– a calm renaissant absorbed in colors and brushes and paint stains on your fingers; while a seething mass of excitement shuffles and drones around you. I find a day spent face painting peaceful and purposeful. I enjoy being trapped in a bubble of self–silence and concentration, speaking only to ask what my next earnest, innocent canvas would like to be transformed into today, maybe inquiring as to what their favorite colors are if the hues of the chosen design are interchangeable. Children are sweet in their intense concentration while having paint applied to their skin. Something about that earnest look reminds you that, in the world of a little person, wearing a mask for a few hours is a Very Big Deal indeed.
The whole point of face painting is not just to paint, but to make. To change structure and depth. Use light colors to accentuate, dark shades to deepen. Ovals of black paint to extend or widen nostrils for dogs, cats and bunny rabbits. Lines that extend from ears, along the hollow of jawbones, and over the chin and upper lip; then dot that crescent with sharp, white licks of the brush for teeth to make sharks and crocodiles. Your tiniest, skinniest brush tracing the newly formed, natural wrinkle lines on skin to accentuate them and draw age onto youthful faces. Paint the lips of little girl’s ruby red to enhance the entranced expression on their face when you flip the mirror
their way on your mini-project’s completion.
All tricks and glamors, designed to fool the eyes.
And adult make up, it’s much the same. Light make bigger, dark makes smaller. Sharp lines always look unnatural. Skin infections are wholly transferable. You’re always putting make up not onto skin, but into what is already on that skin– for perfection, a palette must be clean.
The point of wearing make up is to look like you’re not wearing any make up at all, and so few women achieve that illusion. While clown paint and face paint are just that– paint– the point of adult make up is still to wear a mask… just not to let anyone else know you’re doing it.
To be continued…
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{ 5 comments… read them below or add one }
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July 27, 2013 at 8:05 am -
I think that what you published was actually very reasonable.
However, what about this? suppose you composed a catchier title?
I mean, I don’t wish to tell you how to run your website, however what if you added a headline that grabbed folk’s attention?
I mean Clown Paint (Part One, Faces). – RRSAHM is kinda plain.
You could glance at Yahoo’s front page and watch how they write article headlines to get people interested. You might add a related video or a pic or two to get people interested about everything’ve written.
Just my opinion, it might bring your posts a little bit more interesting.
Maryellen recently posted…Maryellen - January 7, 2013 at 9:03 am
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I love it that you were a professional clown. I'm not even sure why, I just do! I (being non-conventional) am drawn to non-conventional occupations and to those who have had them.
- January 7, 2013 at 7:40 am
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Clearly you don't just know how to paint faces, you paint entire landscapes onto a cold computer screen. Such a beautiful post.
Thank you! - January 7, 2013 at 1:44 am
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I enjoyed your written words as much as I would probably enjoy your painted faces!
- January 6, 2013 at 10:57 pm
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I like your words.
And you. Quite a lot. But not in a stalkerish way.
I think your font size is just perfect.
Previous post: Bubbles.
Next post: Make Up (Part Two, Faces).
The God of Small Things – RRSAHM
The God of Small Things
“I’d sit on logs like pulpits
listen to the sermon
of sparrows
and find god in Simplicity,
there amongst the dandelion
and thorn”
‘As A Child I Walked’, A Knight Without Armour by Jewel Kilcher.
I’ve missed my little man lately. We’ve both been here, of course, we’ve just been… busy. Coming and going, days eating themselves before I realize they’re gone and it’s bath time again.
Combine the general daycare/swimming/playmate business of a young family with the mess I’ve been in last few weeks, and I was beginning to feel like a ship passing my children, cold and alone, in the fog of the night. It had been so long since I’d spent time with my Chop, no longer my baby at four and half, that I’d almost forgotten what he was like without the presence of his boisterous younger sister.
And to think, once upon a time, it was just he and I, every day, waiting for his daddy to be home every afternoon at half past two (and I still now, almost eighteen months later, subconsciously break my day into morning and afternoon by that timeframe, still rush to be home by two pm even though there is no need to be.)
It happened by chance a few days ago that I found myself with a whole afternoon to spend with my son– had I have attempted to plan it, nothing would have worked as well as it did, it never does. A big morning at playgroup had worn out to the Bump to the point where she was nearly asleep eating her lunch, and she tucked herself into a tired little ball in her bed not long after. Which left the Chop and I to do our thing on the unseasonably warm autumn afternoon.
Most days, I have to pry this child off the lounge with a crowbar and threats of no TV ever, ever again. Getting him to come outside and play is a small miracle. For him to do it of his own initiative is nothing short of remarkable.
 |
| Another one of the iChild’s self portraits…. genius. |
But it was a beautiful day, and I was in a happy frame of mind, content to hang damp washing on the line under the dappled shade of the trees that line our skinny block of land. Watching me contemplatively from our balcony for a moment, the Chop made his decision, collected his shoes, and rambled outside to join me.
The best things just happen, and they take you by surprise.
An in depth conversation about why we don’t put pegs on our nose led to an impromptu lesson in adding up, counting the pegs put until he reached the limit of his coherent numerics, somewhere around twenty five.
From the clothesline we visit the chook coop, collect eggs, change water. I’ll never regret getting chooks for my kids– they won’t be the kids who don’t know milk comes from a cow and not Woolworths, praise Jamie Oliver. The Chop gets the cycle– scraps to chooks, chook poo to worm farm, worm wee to veggie garden, veggie scraps to chooks, egg shells to the scrap bucket, and so forth. He even impressed me the other morning by declaring that Sesame St had it all wrong– boy chooks didn’t lay eggs at all, only girl chooks do that.
The Chop and I lamented over the idiosyncrasies of our new water tank– rain water, yes, same as we drink from the inside tap, but not drinkable, no, different. Not safe. Unless you’re a chicken. Or a cat.
We pull out the remnants of the summer vegetables, ready to expand and replant– with a chook proof fence– for winter, examining caterpillars and hairy grubs as we go. I show him the grass that has grown from the seeds we’ve been feeding the chooks. He shows me how he can almost hit the cat while peeing from six foot up on the verandah. He tells me four or five times what a good job I did face painting at playgroup that morning, until I find the word he’s looking for and suggest it to him– we’re you proud of mummy, mate?
Yes, mummy; he replies, with that gorgeous, unguarded, innocent flirtation that only four year old boys will ever posses. I am proud of you and I love you very much.
I realize, again, what I’ve been missing, locking myself away in that cold bitter fog.
It’s an easy afternoon with my boy and me, hot and sweating it out in the sunshine, putting a wholesome fatigue into our muscles. He is calm and quiet, contemplative– a rare state for my anxious little energizer bunny– and we have the type of conversations I love to have with my kids– explaining and unfolding the intricacies of every day life, sharing our thoughts and ideas, breaking adult concepts down into child size, brain friendly chunks. I had forgotten how much I adore my sons curiosity, watching his face tighten slightly as he turns a problem over and cuts it in half, looking for a way to think around it that he hasn’t seen before.
For that bright, sunny afternoon, my little boy spared me his hardest questions. He stuck to simple things like what happens to plants in the compost, how many days it would have to rain to fill the water tank, and the approximate age of our house. There was nothing about his dad, or heaven, or hospitals or dieing. And, thanks to some higher power– the god of small things, perhaps, who watches children and chooks and veggies and kittens– there is no repeat of the most difficult question yet, posed just the day before– will we get a new daddy, mum? Can we? (No, baby, not really, I’m so sorry, but everyone just gets one daddy, and yours is in heaven. If he could come back, he would, I promise, but he can’t… What a fucking horrible answer to give a little boy, even if it is the truth. If there is a god of small things, she was missing from my children’s lives that day, and days like this, lovely as they are, can’t make that nay better, nothing can make that any better.)
It just my son, my Chop and I; enjoying our garden for all it’s worth, sucking up the very last of the pale, just-hot sunshine. Just he and I, and the chooks, and the cats, with that god of small things eavesdropping on the fringes; discussing the meanings of life.
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{ 21 comments… read them below or add one }
- April 7, 2012 at 10:31 am
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Catching up on your posts, and a lot of time I have a knot in my chest while reading. This post just loosened that knot. So glad you had this lovely day with Chop <3
- March 30, 2012 at 5:36 pm
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Nice Lori. Hugs,
Brad - March 30, 2012 at 12:17 am
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Warm sunshine on your face, happiness in your heart, and your son is proud of you and he loves you. keep that, thats the stuff that matters.
- March 28, 2012 at 7:37 am
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Rreading posities like this Lori, makes me breath out and exhale, for you. See you soon. xx
- March 27, 2012 at 10:39 pm
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Just beautiful. I love those days.
- March 27, 2012 at 10:29 pm
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Haven't read your blog in ages.
But this one filled me with warm fuzzies, for sure.
Looking at the world through his little eyes, and taking such appreciation through it all. Nice.Good on you Lori, for managing to turn around the way you're seeing things.
– mouse
- March 27, 2012 at 10:21 pm
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My son has another daddy…you just never know xx
- March 27, 2012 at 10:09 pm
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Funnily enough the title caught my attention as I'm actually reading the book called "The God of Small Things". Although this post isn't about the book, it sure is beautiful.
How often we are with our kids without actually 'being' with them. So glad you enjoyed those small moments. And may there be many more of them.
I haven't visited for ages. So sorry. Luckily, I've found my blogjo again. xx
- March 27, 2012 at 9:49 pm
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Beautiful post.My girl is nearly 18 and our most precious memories are those we made during the times spent together at home just playing,just being…. together.But oh how the years fly by.Savour every moment with your babies as before you know it they are young adults and the memory making is so different when the magic of childhood is gone.Im so happy for you soaking in the warmth of these special moments.xxx
- March 27, 2012 at 9:45 pm
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Oh wow. So beautiful. I hope you have more and more moments like these.
- March 27, 2012 at 8:48 pm
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I really like this post Lori. Your son sounds wonderful – just the therapy you need.
- March 27, 2012 at 8:47 pm
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Sounds so beautiful and the way you write it touches my heart. What a special little champ you have there x
- March 27, 2012 at 7:50 pm
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Present moment living Lori…nothing quite like it. We're also so busy watching the hand that grabs our attention that we forget that its the magicians other hand where the good stuff is really happening. Glad you got to enjoy that time with Chop.
- March 27, 2012 at 7:09 pm
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Children are nothing short of miricles huh?
My kids are always doing this stuff to me. i just wish I was more for them.Chop is gorgeous. Does he do "the special sword fights" too? sounds like he would given the chance.
- March 27, 2012 at 1:00 pm
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It sounds like such a sweet and wonderful afternoon.
- March 27, 2012 at 11:54 pm
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I loved reading this – just beautiful. 4 year old boys are just gorgeous!
- March 27, 2012 at 12:32 pm
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sounds just like what you needed …
- March 27, 2012 at 12:27 pm
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You just discovered what I think God really is. Just the little things.
- March 27, 2012 at 11:08 am
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I'm so happy that you both had this.
- March 27, 2012 at 11:05 am
- March 27, 2012 at 10:56 am
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This is so beautiful Lori. This is what life's all about, and I'm glad you were able to enjoy it and be aware of it. Not everyone is as 'aware' as that. So lovely for you to have the opportunity to teach your little ones x
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How I Met The Man (And Some Three Way Action) – RRSAHM
How I Met The Man (And Some Three Way Action)
Welcome back, welcome back, welcome back,
OK, I’ll humor you and explain the three way bit, because I just know that’s what you’re here for. For anyone who missed it (where on earth have you been?), myself, Sarah from I Am Awesome Just Me and Lucy from Ravishing Diminishing Lucy have been doing a bit of guest posting on each others blogs. We chatted about where we blog at Sarah’s and swapped recipes at Lucy’s. And now we’re doing “How I Met My Partner” right here in the comfort of your RRSAHM.
So sit back, relaxxxxx, and enjoy some super hot three way action (hello Google weirdos).
How I Met the Man
My Man and I met many, many years ago. Not really. It was only actually about seven years ago. He was one of a small group of people hanging out having a few drinks at his sister’s place. I rocked up there with my friend Kimmy Ann, who is mates with The Man’s sister. Following? Good.
So, introductions are made (Hi, nice to meet you, nice eyes, how ya doing). I take a seat next to The Man and prepare to engage in small talk.
And he, ever so slightly inebriated as he was, leans over and vomits all over the floor. Remind to do a post on The Man and his incredibly weak stomach sometime in the near future.
Love at first sight, obviously. South Park style.
Somewhat unsurprisingly, a good three years pass before we get together. One sunny Spring day, not long after I finally broken free from incredibly messy and so-dead-even-Dr Phil-can’t-CPR-it relationship with Gooba The Clown; my friend Kimmy Ann and I again find ourselves at The Man’s sister’s place. The Man is there, in fine form.
Is he flirting with me? I think he is. What do i do? Flirt back. Do I remember how to do that? Sure I do. And… flutter eyelashes… smile….. laugh… this is too easy….how hot am I?
Wait. Hold on. He’s leaving. Umm…. no “Can I have your number?” Well, screw you then, Man.
Long story short, three days later my friend Kimmy Ann says the Man has rung his sister to get her number, then rang her to get my number. She, bless her, checked with me if she could pass my number on. Erm…. OK, what the hell, why not. If he turns out to be a serial killer, at least I know where his sister lives and will be able to tele-communicate that information to the police psychic who finds my body.
*Cough* Moving on.
Later that night, The Man finally gets round to ringing me. A few weeks after that, we have our first date.
Six weeks on, and we decide to buy a house together, and after another six weeks we move in. Did someone say “Ready to commit?”
The Chop was born 14 months after our first date. We eventually got around to getting married almost a year ago.
And- ta-da!- we all lived happily after all.
Stay tuned for Lucy’s post tomorrow and Sarah’s on Wednesday- same bat time, same bat channel.
Leave a Comment
{ 10 comments… read them below or add one }
- April 28, 2010 at 10:39 am
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SO beautiful in that photo!
- April 26, 2010 at 10:05 pm
- April 26, 2010 at 4:23 pm
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Awww, what a beautiful couple you are! It just goes to show you can't judge a guy by his puke.
- April 26, 2010 at 1:31 pm
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Your love story is just fantastic…. He seriously puked??? Seriously??
Hey nice picture Lori. You guys look so good and you are gorgeous. Happy happy….
- April 26, 2010 at 11:40 am
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Laughing, loving it. Sometimes it is just right – weak stomach and all. So glad you are so happy. xxx
- April 26, 2010 at 11:23 am
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Aw, I love a happy ending. FWIW, my cousin got sick on her first date with her husband and they got happily married, too! Maybe it's a good omen, like ran on your wedding day.
- April 26, 2010 at 10:59 am
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Now, that is what I call a whirlwind romance. And how gorgeous are you?! No joke.XO
- April 26, 2010 at 10:34 am
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I love it!!
- April 26, 2010 at 8:30 am
- April 26, 2010 at 8:12 am
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Aw it was obviously meant to be Lori despite pukey beginnings lol. Pml at the police psychic! You dag. Love that you bought a house after 6 weeks
. Can't wait to hear the other girls stories
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{ 39 comments… read them below or add one }
Beautifull
Oh Lori, I wish I had your confidence. (If I did, I wouldn't have a bloody eating disorder.)
I know it sounds crazy, but I don't care what other people think about my body, but I think of myself as hideous.
Thank you for having the courage to post pics of yourself and the confidence to share them with us. You truly are beautiful inside and out!
Fantastic post! You're right, women's bodies, bodies in general, are amazing and we should celebrate them! All shapes and sizes!
You rock babe
And I love the matching undies 
Didn't think you could get more gorgeous, yet here you are more gorgeous than ever x
Lori
I have followed your blog for over a year now. And 11 months ago I lost my husband to cancer and like you have struggled to make sense of things but am a strong woman and I too find myself longing and wanting to move through this pain and onto something which doesn't see me stuck dealing with the awfulness that is being a widow.
It scares me how we live thousands of miles apart. Me in the UK and you in Australia but I find myself asking myself the same question re dating again. I am so worried about it all more about what others think rather than actually doing it. I've asked why is it society encourages people who are separated or divorced to get back on with dating but when you are widow people have different thoughts. If I was divorced I could do something about that, try at the relationship etc but with being a widow you cant change that. No matter what you do or don't do Tony wont come back and it is the same for me. I know if I could sit in a dark room for years and at the end of that Steve would come back then I would but he wont will he. And so I have a choice as you do. Move forward or stay in a painful fog.
Good luck x x
Great post, gorgeous pics
[Lemme try this again]
WOW! Good for you! The closest I got to a pic of my body / figure was my current facebook profile pic! I'm 45, had 5 huge babies and although I feel confident I look good for my age, I dunno if I could post a pic on my blog or elsewhere…unless I cropped out my head! LOL!
Here I am just for you…
http://flic.kr/p/azYXNt
You're adorable! You look like a teenager xx
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Beautiful!
I love it!! I think you are beautiful. I mean I always have regardless of what you looked like in a matching set of undies
What a figure, pocket rocket! You have a great body, and thanks for thinking mine is too
Gorgeous <3
Love your confidence, love your attitude beautiful woman.
You are gorgeous. I post about this, but chickened out of the body shot..
x
Uh Oh, butt crack. Hitch them up a half inch would you?
There's no way, ever, that I'm putting this body of mine on display. I don't like scaring people.
Very brave! I don't know I have the courage to that and I'm childless at the moment! Very pleased to see your looking healthy when I delivered the care package to you! Go fellow Scorpio, I will aim to do it next yr once I've had surgery for endo sorted, might get rid of pudgy tummy!
You constantly amaze me – you so willingly expose the innermost you almost everyday, and now your sharing how beautiful you are on the outside too?
Incred-a-bubble.
Well if i wasn't having naughty dreams about you last night I will be tonight!
xx
You are awesome. There's really not much else to say x
Hi Lori
Heartpoet and I will be joining you this year (for the first time) and have been VERY brave with our post! (tasteful but still activated the adult content button as did not wish to have my blog removed lol). Showing so much of ourselves publicly is a first and will only be a once a year thing as my blog is largely G rated hahaha!
We just wanted you to know that we think you look amazing!!
Hugs
Kimmie and Heartpoet
http://theserendipitycafe.blogspot.com/2011/10/everybodys-body-is-beautiful_28.html
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I think you have managed to say a lot of what I have come to feel about my own body over the last year
Indeed an admirably brave post. Good for you girl. You're a braver man than I!
Lots of folk send you kudos here, which it does deserve, but as a fellow Scorp ( and I have more scorp in my chart than I'd wish on anyone I tell you – all that intensity and sensitivity ), I feel I must give it to you fairly straight and at full scorp 'vision' ( scorps are supposed to be 'far seeing' as you would have read I'm sure – Humour me if you must ).
So at risk of also sounding like your 'mother' here….
I'm not so sure about all the 'my body can handle anything' philosophy. Things you do now, can make a difference to how your body lasts, or handles the wear and tear of a long life, later on.
The metabolism you have later will most likely be a lot slower and less efficient at body system management. Most likely anyway. Recovery rates from binges, and even lesser indulgences, are slower, and are more damaging, usually.
Everyone's different of course. I respect that. And I would never say never about anything.
And this is a hard thing to relate to when all seems relatively ok at 29 or so. Even if you are a scorp !
Plus, you can't literally see what is going on or developing, or not, inside you. So awareness is low, generally.
And, not judging ( and I'm a non smoker, ex athlete, who use to love smokey live music venues mind you, and still does, if I could find one now it's illegal ), but are you not concerned the heavy smoking will have a big bad effect at all one day ?
YOU have talents and good things to offer to the world, and your kids, and your grandkids. How much of a gamble are you willing to make on that ?
Makes me look like a killjoy here – and I think you're someone who doesn't like 'being told', even when it's an invited comment like you offer here – but I mean it – you ARE a talent and a gift to the world, and your kids – and I, personally, would rather see you go the distance. Or give yourself the best chance at at least. Not get in your own way.
So, in the words of Dirty Harry " do you feel lucky, punk ? ".
( I guess it also depends a little on what you mean by overindulgence versus what I may think is overindulgence too, I guess. Could be 2 very different things and levels. Or not )
I'm interested to see how you'd write this post ( the bits about how good your body is to you, not the 'being proud of who you are' bits ) in 15 years.
Nah…I'll let you stick to the nakedness thing. I gotta job and all. Can't be caught in me undies at the click of a button. But you go, girl. Do your thang.
Beautifully spoken. Love the lacy unmentionables
Karlene
I was just thinking yesterday how far I'd go this year… you look beautiful, Lori
x
I'm not brave, but good on you, you look fantastic!!
You know – the first thing that stood out for me is you look more confident in the latest pics! Just the way you are holding yourself. Well done!
Like some of the others not sure I'd be confident enough to do this… way too many stretch marks after two kidlets, kind of like the tokyo subway map!
You are so gorgeous, girl! Love the matching set <3
You look great Lori and your post has inspired me to give this a go. Thank you
You are brave, and you look amazing. I just don't think I heart my body enough to do this right now, despite the fabulous reason it's done. But good on you.
You look amazing! I know I needed this encouragement!
Love this post – would give anything (well maybe not my first born) for a body like that – but I am working on it.
Such self confidence – good for you!
Take care and have a great weekend.
Wow! Your are amazing Lori.
Like you I feel more comfortable in my own skin now then I did at 20. I've grown three children and fed them with this body. It carries me through each day, its recovered from three c-sections, knee reconstruction, and still keeps going.
Looking mighty fine Miss Lori.
Thanks for joining in again Lori!
As women we really do have amazing bodies! Thank you for explaining it so eloquently!
Love your bra and undies by the way!
Carly
Love this post – beautiful.
Gorgeous x
Gorgeous girl!
You are going to DPCON12, aren't you?
Lori, you are beautiful. But we all knew that already.
You're also brave. I love my body but I'm not sure I'm as brave as you to put it out there.
xx