I’m called, now, a survivor of suicide.

I’m not really sure how that sits with me… I’m not the survivor, if you know what I mean. I’m not the one who tried to die. If Tony had lived, he would be a suicide survivor.

But he didn’t. And no one wins here.

Although I am surviving, no doubt about that.

So.. I don’t know.

Whatever.

Anyway, they say that survivors of suicide-like me- one thing we report, one thing we have in common, is a feeling of constant exhaustion.

Part of it, it’s just wanting to sleep. Because sleep is so black, so dark and warm; and it’s a place where you get twisted up in dreams and memories, and the lines between what was and what is can blur.

But it’s not all about sleep. Part of it is just over exposure, your mind running itself on the same circuits over and over until it begins to burn, that sulphury, hot melting smell.

Because, you see, most things- everything- it reminds you of the person who has passed. And as soon as that memory hits, it starts the circuit….

Why…?

Why…?

Why….?

And every unanswered ‘Why?’ falls on your soul, over and over like a heartbeat. Your mind stretches and turns- every word they ever said, every thing you did in those last few weeks. And all you come up with is more questions, more “why?”s, all of them without an answer.

It’s exhausting. Thinking so hard, all the time, without any satisfaction.

It’s no wonder I am so damn tired.

Howdy,

A little while back, I made a vlog and entered it into In The Powder Room’s search for a new, permanent blogger. Without me even realising it for a week (duh, Lori), I made it into the finals. The winner is chosen on votes… and I would really, really like to win this one. It’s a real blogging job that I can do from home, to make a little bit of extra cash for my family.

It’s one vote per ISP, and voting is by email (I know, pain in the butt, but… please?). All you have to do is email feedback@inthepowderroom.com with the subject line ‘RRSAHM‘.

Thank you, in advance. To say a special thankyou, I’ll treat you to the vlog I made as an entry. Enjoy….

While you happen to be on the InterWebs today, take a moment to check out Nico’s Toybox on FaceBook. Because every child deserves toys to play with. Especially miracle babies like Nico.
 

Howyadoin’,

Okey dokey. There’s this ‘Tribal Wives’ series memey thingie- you may have seen it going round, yes? From what I’ve heard, it was started by Vegemite Vix, and it’s been carried on by a whole stack of awesome bloggers like Missy M, Emma, and Notes from LapLand, to name just a few. And then there’s this bitchy but undeniably funny run down on the dreaded mommy bloggers. Read at your own risk.

I’m jumping on the blog bandwagon, as it thunders past. This is what I do.

So, before we begin, a disclaimer or two. I haven’t been tagged in this one. I’m totally stealing ideas and stepping on toes. Hey, at least I linked.

And, as per usual, this is totally tongue in cheek. Please, no one get their virtual knickers in a twist. If you must send me hate mail, here’s the link, and do make it entertaining. Badly written hate mail makes Baby Jesus cry, mmmkay? I’m taking the piss here. Out of myself. And those around me. And I’m OK with that.

On with the show. An anthropological study, if you will…..

Latin name: Attractivus Feminis Playgroupus

Habitat: Their natural habitat of the Yummy Mummy is, of course, the leafy outer Sydney suburbs. Large housing estates, filled with identical houses and council-enforced green space. A man-made duck pond is desirable, as is at least one set of primary colored, fire-proof playground equipment; a primary school and small shopping center, preferably within pram-pushing distance.

Additional habitats of this tribe may include playgroup, baby swim lessons, story time at the library, and Gloria Jeans coffee shops.

Plumage and attire: The Yummy Mummies of the leafy Sydney ‘burbs generally have two different attires- a ‘stay at home’ plumage and an ‘out and about’ plumage. A ‘stay at home’ plumage may include tights, tracksuit pants and t-shirts but these must be in an acceptably clean and tidy condition when you put them on (the appearance of snot, vomit or mashed avocado at some stage during the day in unavoidable). This attire is acceptable for power walking with your pram, or transporting children to the local fire-proof playground; but must not be worn outside of the walking distance confines of the suburb.

An ‘out and about’ plumage can be identified by the inclusion of pants or jeans, a nice top and a cardigan. Dresses or skirts are reserved for holy days and mating rituals.

Dialect: Minimal use of swear words, and not around the children, please. Catch phrases may include, but not be limited to referring to one’s partner as “the hubby”; saying “This is so much better for the environment” in reference to just about anything; and the eternal “Which school is your child going to?”.

Acceptable children’s names include any one syllable names, such as Taj, Tai, Jack and Zac for boys (not Bruce); and old fashioned names such as Ruby and *ahem* Daisy for girls, or any name ending with an ‘elle’- Gisselle, Annabelle, Mirabelle (but not Narelle). Acceptable topics of  conversation include daycare, breastfeeding, toilet training, Gymbaroo, baking, carpet cleaning and learning difficulties.

Additonal anthropological information: To be classified as an arch typical Yummy Mummy, one should be a stay at home mum, or, ideally, work one or two days a week. A day a week in childcare so the Yummy Mummy can regroup, get her hair done and reclaim her sanity should not be considered a luxury, but a culturally mandated necessity. Yummy Mummies have, on average, two to three children and one to two mortgages. Acceptable modes of transport for two children include a sedan or hatchback. Three children require a LandRover or 4 wheel drive of some description. Four or more children entitles you to a mini-van and ‘Soccer Mum’ status.

Yummy Mummies drink wine. But not before 5pm. Both Xanax and Valium are acceptable coping strategies.

Yummy Mummies must be weary of disintegration into ‘Slummy Mummy’ status. This can occur through the gratuitous drinking of alcohol other than wine, especially during the daylight hours; having a protruding ‘muffin top’; referring to one’s children as “Bastards”; using wither the c-word or f-word in general conversation around the children or being a *gasp* *ahem* dirty smoker. (Won’t somebody please think of the children?!)

Well there you go, RRSAHMer’s- that’s the seedy underbelly of the leafy Sydney burbs. I am a self confessed Yummy Mummy, a card carrying resident of the leafy Sydney ‘burbs. This is reinforced by my huge all-wheel-drive and my collection of tailored track suit pants.

But it’s a very fine line.I’m sad to say I’m seriously in jeopardy of sliding into Slummy Mummy status if I keep on bake-failing the way I have been. Not to mention the dirty, filthy cigarettes. *Ahem * Cough* *Hack up lung*. Keep in tuned to this station for more on that one- it seems I’ll be quitting smoking soon, and won’t that just be a barrel of fun…?

Heya,

Well, it’s been well and truly long enough since I got my groovy new phone. I’ve had plenty of time to have make an unbiased and full appraisal.

True.

But I actually have not got around to reading the entire instruction manual yet. And may not, in the foreseeable future.

I’m writing the review anyway.

Here goes.

The Samsung F480i* (color: coral pink) is pretty damn groovy. It’s kind of like an iPhone for people who are cheap don’t have iPhones, what with it’s touch screen and minimal buttonage. It’s simple to use, and the screen is responsive enough to not be annoying, in either regard- not too touchy, not too tough.

Obviously, there is no Samsung App Store. Instead, Samsung has Widgets. This excited me at first, thinking I’d have a kinship with these widgets, because I use widgets on Blogger. Not true. Blogger widgets and Samsung widgets have very little in common. And there is no Twitter widget. Why, I cannot imagine, given there is a FaceBook widget, a YouTube widget, a widget for something called Friendster, a Google widget, and for some God unknown reason, a MySpace widget. For the 300 teenagers who still use MySpace, I suppose. The ones who don’t have iPhones.

The Twitter widget may actually be a downloadable widget in the Widgets Version 2 widget, which is a widget inside the More Widgets widget. But I have not got around to downloading that particular widget as yet.

Confused?

Me too.

Whatever.

The camera on this phone is pretty fail compared to Nokia’s Carl Zeiss representation, but hey, it has a few features guaranteed to keep you amused for hours.. Such as the ‘Smile’ mode, which automatically takes a photo when someone smiles. It’s only really useful for novelty purposes, but that still deserves a mention.Or the mosaic widget feature, which takes a photo, then puts another photo in a thought bubbles or a butterfly or a doodads like that. Erm, like this.

The best feautrure of the Samsung 480 is, without a doubt, the Fake Call feature. Yes, that’s right the Fake Call feature. I’m not making this up. Boring meeting? Bad blind date? The Samsung has the simple solution. Hold down the secret button (I’m not telling you which one, just in case I get to meet you In Real Life and I need to get away in a hurry) and voila!! Ten seconds later, the phone rings. You can even pre-record a message- like someone saying ‘Your cat has been in a terrible accident, come quickly!!’- that will play when you answer your Fake Call.

Awesomeness.

So, after much consideration a few days usage, I’ve decided to give this phone 3 out of a possible 5 jellybeans on the RRSAHM ranking-stuff-scale. The Samsung F480i is OK. But, ya know, it’s no iPhone**. Even if it does have an “i” in it’s name. (Which I’m fairly sure is ilLlegal because you can’t even name your kid iSobelle is this iAge. It’s trademarked. iTrue. Maybe).

*Obviously, not a sponsored post. Do you really think anyone would endorse this…? No,  me either.

**And I promise, this is my last bitter-because- I-don’t-have-an-iPhone-post. Really. OK? OK.

September 15th is RUOK Day in Australia.

It’s a very simple concept.

Ask the people you know, the people you see every day…

“Are you OK?

Is there stuff you want to talk about?

Because I am here to listen.”

It makes me happy to be helping out with this one. For obvious reasons, it’s a cause close to my heart. I’ve been chatting to the RUOK Day organisers, even doing some filming for them. Talking. That’s what I do.

If you could all reach out and follow RUOKDay on Twitter and FaceBook, that would be awesome. And the wedsite has some great information on how to start talking, and where to go from there.

And have the conversation. If you know someone who you think is not OK, ask them.

And, more importantly, if you are the person who is being asked… speak the truth.

Someone is asking because they care. Because they want to help. Because talking about a problem can half it, getting it out in the open can make it so much more manageable.

I must have asked Tony is he was OK one hundred times in the month before he died… and the answer was always yes, of course.

He didn’t want to worry me.

I wanted to be worried.

So, if someone asks you on September 15th- or any time, actually- RUOK…. answer. They are asking because they care.

Speak.