Monthly Archives: May 2016
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Milk
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Milk
What The Kidlets Think. – RRSAHM
What The Kidlets Think.
I tell my kids we’re moving to Melbourne. They react accordingly, as you would expect children to do. Between the two of them, they pinwheel through every emotion you could possibly associate with this kind of change.
The general consensus is not what I expected. The Chop is thoroughly excited, almost anxious in his anticipation. He’s entranced at the idea of living so close to the city. He is obsessed with the concept that trams drive right there on the street with the cars!!!
He works out his worries, one at a time. Will the cat come with us? Will we take everything in our house? Will he go to swimming lessons in Melbourne? (Yes; kind of; and probably, yes). To the Chop this is the ultimate adventure and he can’t wait to start a new school and meet new people.
The Bump, however, is timid and fretful. She will miss her daycare, she tells me. She will miss her friends. She doesn’t want to leave our ‘little house‘.
I’d predicted all of this, of course… It’s just that I thought it would be the other way around. That the Chop would be reluctant to leave, and the bubbly Bump ready for a new adventure in a whole new place.
Turns out, I don’t know my children as well as I thought.
I wonder how often that happens. I’m guessing it will happen more and more as my kids grow up. Their mother, walking around, sure that she understands what’s going on in their complex little minds, when she actually has no idea what they’re thinking.
Previous post: The Evolution of a Birthmark.
Next post: How Do Colour Changing Candles Work?
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Hanging… On…In….There.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Washed Away.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Fuck You Too.
When Baby Stars Grow Up. – RRSAHM
When Baby Stars Grow Up.
I hate to say it, but the whole concept of the Baby Jake series had me just slightly terrified. I’d say I’m not sure why, but I’d be lying. I know why. It’s quite simple.
As a general rule, I find real life babies on children’s TV shows quite disconcerting. This time, I can say I’m not sure why, and I’m not lying. All I know is that I was about fourteen when the Tellytubbies first aired and I was still afraid of that giggling sun baby. Who, apparently, now looks likes this.
Like I said- terrifying.
But I have a feeling that’s just an internet rumor. Considering Tellytubbies only aired for the first time in 1997. And that chick is not 15.
Moving on. Baby Jake had me pleasantly surprised as I watched him and his friends- a football team full of brother and sisters who do odd things like draw faces on their knees and think they are trees- from my wary spot on the edge of the lounge room. Well within fleeing distance, should that irrational fear of TV babies kick in.
This show is very cute. It’s bright and colorful and animated quite simply. The Chop, who is four years old, quite liked it and even watched it sporadically in between torturing the new kitten. That might not sound great, but Baby Jake doesn’t have anyone fighting or winning anything, so it’s not really the kind of thing four year old boys are into. The Bump is two years old, and babies are absolutely her favorite thing. She loved this show. In fact, she loved it so much we watched about
twenty times in three days. I’m thinking of it as desensitization.
Baby Jake gets a very yummy four out of five jellybeans on the RRSAHM Ranking Stuff Scale. One was eaten due to anxiety caused by a potentially scary baby. Baby Jake wasn’t scary, but I can show you something that is….
This is what Baby Jake looks like, all grown up. Are we scared now? Oh yes, yes we are. You’re welcome.
Post sponsored by KidSpot.
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{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
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January 4, 2012 at 12:22 am -
Eww was that the black jellybean you ate? Lol
- January 3, 2012 at 2:52 pm
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Ugh Boo loves BabyJake too and Squirt is strangely fixated by it so we watch it a bit here too… The theme music makes me feel slightly tortured but apart from driving me to early dementia it appears mostly harmless
Previous post: Christmas, 2011.
Next post: Jellybeans.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Giant.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Falling Into Place
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: It happens on Monday.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: It happens on Monday.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Thanks for the love!
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Things I just do not get….
The Little Lady of The House – RRSAHM
The Little Lady of The House
If there is one thing that does not fail to irritate me and get on my nerves like skin down a cheese grater- if only because it hurts- it’s when well meaning people assume I have a husband.
But of course, why wouldn’t they? When I’m young and reasonably ok looking and kind of intelligent and what on earth is wrong with me…?
Anyway. At risk of sounding like a bitch– men are, by far, the worst offenders when it comes to this. The thought of my neighbor refusing to tell me whether or not my dog was dead, asking continually if my husband was home… that one still kind of stings. Who knows, it may even be the residual catalyst for the reason the whole thing pisses me off so intensely.
The Really Huge TV that we won not long ago- while awesome- has this problem of refusing to pick up the TV channels I rely upon to keep me sane here; ie, ABC2 and ABC3. Thinking this may just be a way to break my son free from his technology obsession, I put up with an ABC–free zone for a whole four weeks.
And by that time I had had just about eeeee–goddamn–nuff of my children whinging and could not get the Antennae Man here quick enough.
It’s just a pity that the Antennae Man was such a… well… douche.
Antennae Man happened to show up (four hours late, but hey, who’s counting?) on one of those exceptionally rare days when my kids are in daycare and I actually have company. Company of the male–type–date variety.
(Nobody get too excited… male–date–type company lasted the residual three weeks before f*cking off again. For that reason and others, we’ll call him Mr Few and Far Between– Mr FAFB for short.)
Antennae Man was convinced that Mr FAFB was in charge. Every word Antennae Man spoke, he addressed to my date. Mr FAFB, being a pretty cool guy, politely deferred all questioning to me, and made it ridiculously clear that not only did he not live here, he had no idea and nothing beyond a polite interest as to what was going on.
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| The little lady of the house is not impressed. |
And he made this point over and over. He made it clear when the Antennae Man first tapped on the front door, and again when he returned from gallivanting on my roof to discuss pricing. Even as the Antennae Man stood tuning the TV, chatting away about how cool it is with it’s wifi connection, and I answered every question he asked with responses such as “I won it through my work” and “Pretty cool, hey? It’s all mine!”; this guy still could not direct his conversion toward me, the little lady of the house. Not when there was a big tough man who obviously knew more about the household finances and basic geeky devices in place than I could possibly be expected to.
I actually can’t think of a more effective method of making me seethe with frustration and hurt and a sense of impotent unfairness. It’s childish, I know, but it almost feels like I’m doing all of this hard work without getting any of the credit for it.
Now, allow me to disclaim myself here– it’s certainly not all men, and it doesn’t happen on a weekly basis. Just every now and then. Incidents that are far enough removed from one another for it to shock me somewhat when it occurs, but that happen just often enough that it always feels familiar. And it’s not always blatant douche–baggery the way it happened to be with Antennae Man. Sometimes it’s for far more noble and acceptable reasons– like my neighbor, who simply didn’t want to cause undue distress to a female if he didn’t have to. (Feel free to argue the potential ramifications of that particular sentiment to women and society amongst yourselves, if you wish. I’m too tired right now, but you never know– I may come back to it later.)
Whatever. Regardless of the sentiment behind it, the whole phenomena still never fails to annoy me. I’m blaming that post-feminist über–woman generation I grew up in. (And more on that coming soon, too.)
***
On a totally different note- how awesome are these iFriendly ISGloves from Fiett…? I know. See you Monday, jellybeans… wish me luck. I’m in the ACT for the government workplace bullying review today.
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{ 9 comments… read them below or add one }
- August 19, 2012 at 9:49 pm
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what an arse…!
- August 19, 2012 at 9:02 pm
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Meh. You and me, Lori – and all the other chicks with kids in daycare – we made PEOPLE. Ha. Take that, Antennae Man. We made freakin' humans. In our SLEEP. Betcha no toolbox in the world could help with that one
- August 19, 2012 at 8:42 pm
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I cop it too and it drives me batty! We had an air con repairer come out on a Friday afternoon. My man was out. He REFUSED to believe me that there was indeed something wrong with the air con. He kept talking about wanting to get to the pub for Fri night drinks, well I'm sorry you're here at this time after we've waited a whole week for you to show up!
He didn't really even look at the air con properly. Then, my man came home. Told him the same thing I had said was wrong. So he looked at it and fixed it. Argh!
Another time, my man had been looking at cars. He'd been getting calls from dealerships, etc.. Then, we both agreed now wasn't the time to be changing cars. So anyway, the dealership guy rang and I answered.
I told him we were no longer interested as we decided it's not the time. He said, 'well I'll call your husband later'. I said, 'first off, he's not my husband, secondly, there's no point because I just told you we're not going ahead with it.'
He went quiet and angry. He said, 'and when was this decided? Are you sure he knows? Can I just talk to him?' and I said, 'we BOTH have decided, nothing's going to change it, goodbye'. And of course he made sure to call the 'man of the house' to check. Grr!
I've been treated as though I'm invisible when getting carseats fitted, when we've been buying tech gadgets for me, the list is never ending.
I feel for you, Lori. I can only imagine how much harder it is.
- August 17, 2012 at 11:22 pm
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Best of luck with your meeting today.
Ugh, you know, I've had to deal with similar crap from day one. The thing is, not unlike you, I'm short and cute AND female, and I think that for some (read: many), that reads as helpless, clueless and in desperate need of being wrapped in friggin' cotton… ARGH! People get annoyed with me for snapping at them, but they don't understand just how demeaning, frustrating and hurtful it is to be treated like this.
Sorry for the rant, but just know you're definitely not alone in being supremely ticked off at being treated differently just because of your gender and/or how you look. HUG!!!!
– Crystal
- August 17, 2012 at 10:15 pm
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When the guy and I go car shopping, they always assume he's the one to talk to. Even if I say upfront that we're buying a car for me. Luckily, my guy always sets them straight first thing now, even if the car is for him – talk to her, she's holding the money
- August 17, 2012 at 2:10 pm
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I went into the building store to buy some flooring, and no less than 3 store employees walked past me, and smiled. Not one asked if I needed help. Finally, after hanging around for quite a few minutes, someone came out that I knew, asked if I'd been helped, and I was DE-lighted to say, no, not yet!! I did buy flooring there, but only because the next option was 200 km away.
Now, had I been obviously waiting in the housewares section…
- August 17, 2012 at 1:09 pm
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I hear you, that bugs me to hell and I am ALWAYS aware of interactions that would be different if I were not female. Have also found certain 'cultures' are classicly notorious at this (racism? No, observation and awareness).
Same, Sheri Bomb – when I bought a new computer recently, spent about 20mins in the store and had to go ask for the info I needed on the specs. Mr Stinky came in when I actually went to buy it, to check some hardware stuff, and you would have thought it was HIM buying the computer! yes I know next to nothing about computers but come on! I was the one waving my credit card!
- August 17, 2012 at 12:24 pm
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I HATE that! Makes me seethe too! I went into a JB Hi Fi once ready and willing to buy a laptop. I wandered around on my own for a while looking at all the different options and none of the sales guys even acknowledged me. Then my bf at the time came into the store and caught up with me and they were falling all over themselves trying to get a sale. Fuck off.
- August 17, 2012 at 10:12 am
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Bah, bugger tradie sexism. I guess the best thing to take away from experiences like this (and you have to look for the good in it or it's just too bloody frustrating) is that its cool that cases of sexism like this ARE so 'few and far between' (see what I did there?) that they really rile you up when they happen.
Its like when I moved out of my old rental house and I went to the hardware store to get some stuff to do the needed repairs myself. The dude who was showing me where the stuff was was like 'oh to do use this, you will need one of these.." and I replied that I had one at home in my toolbox. He looked really weirder out and asked, "you have a toolbox?" Yes, I have a toolbox. Yes I'll be doing this myself. It's not essential for a man to do this stuff, a lady can complete similar or even oftentimes the VERY SAME tasks a dude can!
(Oh and all the best for the review today!)
Previous post: Coward
Next post: Some Kind Of Tiny, Sacred Space For Me.
Crowning. – RRSAHM
Crowning.
There’s a feeling that a wave has broken over me.
You may know the feeling. It’s the height of summer, and your skin is clammy and hot and wet with salty sweat. The air you breathe is warm.
And then you dive into the bottom of a wave, and it cracks over the crown of your head, so cold it hurts. It’s a whole body immersion in ice, cold but welcome as it changes the core temperature of your body, washes the heat from your eyes.
And when you emerge… the beach, it’s the same. But the whole world looks different.
***
A change in perspective.
I’m not sure exactly when it happened- it’s been growing, I think, for a while now. Maybe it was a weekend away with one of my best mates, showing me the essence of myself again.
Maybe it’s the change in weather.
Maybe it’s the knowledge that I made decision to be strong. Lonely, but strong, and true to myself.
Maybe it’s because I’ve realised the truth in a saying of my nan’s- “You need people, love, people don’t need you.”
Maybe it’s just time passing.
But a funny thing has happened.
The shock of Tony hanging (and I can write that word without the creeps) has worn off. It’s as if the shock of suicide has worn off, and it’s as if he through no fault of his own.
I’m not angry at him anymore.
And I can feel him around.
Maybe he’s not angry at me anymore either. Maybe he’s at peace. It feels like he is.
The loneliness that I’ve craved the last few months, the solitude of Paradise… it’s starting to feel sad and stifling.
There are big decisions to be made, and something tells me I will have little trouble making them, that things will fall into place just fine.
It feels scary, having to move on again. But I know it’s the right direction to move.
It’s terrifying, having to pack again, confront memories that have been packed away for six months now.
But it all has to be done.
In the doco The Business of Being Born, there is a midwife who says something akin to…
“Every woman who has a natural childbirth reaches the point where they are scared. The know they have to keep pushing to get this over with, but pushing hurts too much.”
I’ve said all along, this feels like extended childbirth, riding the waves of pain, holding out for the next one. And right now, it feels like that, too.
I know I have to push through this last bit of pain, to find some relief.
But pushing hurts so much, it would be easier just to stop, and wallow in the agony.
You can’t wallow forever. Eventually, you have to face that crowning pain and get it over with.
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{ 21 comments… read them below or add one }
- September 1, 2011 at 11:57 am
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Just reading this now but I must say, what a lovely post to read on the first day of spring.
- August 29, 2011 at 7:17 pm
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Beautifully written as always. You are the strongest person I know of, I am in awe of your strength and honesty as you write about your life. Wishing you peace and relief as you make this next push.
Sending hugs and love
Claire - August 29, 2011 at 2:10 am
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You are amazing, keep your head up and keep moving. You are doing SO GREAT! For you and your kids. And this "You can't wallow forever. Eventually, you have to face that crowning pain and get it over with." Well, that was just what I needed right now. And I will be doing JUST that. Finally! Thanks for all that you write. Lisa
- August 28, 2011 at 3:29 pm
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I get tingly with each of your posts, seeing you emerge, slowly more triumphant. You not only resurface to take a new breath of air, you come back more purposefully and finding your shoreline. Sometimes, the beach you find yourself washed up on may not be the one where you left your towel, and the foreshore invites you in, anyway. You are not the woman who walked into the sea with the intention to drown, in some twist of the feminist narrative. You've walked in and courted transformation. Or transcendence. Or something. Whatever it is, mate, I LOVE it.
- August 28, 2011 at 11:38 am
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hope springs eternal…
- August 28, 2011 at 7:13 am
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beautifully written. just beautiful. my heart smiles when I hear a hint, just a hint of hope in your "voice" here. I hope this next step brings you more peace, contentment, and good moments.
- August 28, 2011 at 4:53 pm
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Sounds like that flower is well watered and is opening up to full bloom.
Good for you Lori. xx - August 28, 2011 at 4:46 am
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What an amazing, descriptive post about moving forward! I'm chuffed to bits to hear that the shock has worn off and that you're making some progress. I continually pray for you and if there's anything I can do, let me know.
- August 28, 2011 at 2:50 am
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you are so clever the way you express emotion and feelings in words that makes it seem so clear and able to relate to. Clever writer girly, it's a shame the feelings are real otherwise it would be truly awesome. But on the upside at least these are upward emotions xx
- August 28, 2011 at 2:20 am
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Beautiful post, Lori. I am happy for you too, to be feeling at peace. Such a stark contrast from your "not ok" post the other day. I can't imaging how exhausting it must be to just FEEL, so much, all the time. Here's hoping for many more good days ahead! Reading along and rooting for you from the other side of the world…
- August 27, 2011 at 10:09 pm
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This is exciting!
I am hoping that your second life is just as wonderful as your first. - August 27, 2011 at 7:21 pm
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I'm so glad to read this, Lori. I knew this moment was coming and now I know that you truly are going to be okay. (((Hugs)))
- August 27, 2011 at 6:41 pm
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I love that you've used the whole " crowning " analogy because we all know what happens after the crowning… a birth. Or, Lori, in your case – a rebirth….
- August 27, 2011 at 5:02 pm
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Wow…just wow!
- August 27, 2011 at 3:33 pm
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Dear Lori,
I am so glad to read this post. I've only recently found your blog and read your story.
Sending you all good wishes for the changes that are coming,
Caity - August 28, 2011 at 12:29 am
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Oh, Lori, I am so happy for you, I really am. HUG! I think you've reached a turning point and I really hope things go swiftly uphill from here for you. I've been cheering for you here on the sidelines all along and it just does my heart good to hear that you're getting better.
- August 27, 2011 at 1:40 pm
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I love that u recognize a lifechanging moment before it's about to happen and then can describe it so expressively to us. I hope the world looks as bright and fresh as it does through a wave and it doesn't hurt too much. Nicole x
- August 27, 2011 at 1:23 pm
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Hey Lori,
Its really nice to hear you talking like this, even if it is a calm moment between a painful push, the fact is you are getting to enjoy a calm moment and seeing a glimpse of a peaceful world and feeling its pleasure again. - August 27, 2011 at 4:01 pm
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"…you dive into the bottom of a wave, and it cracks over the crown of your head, so cold it hurts. It's a whole body immersion in ice, cold but welcome as it changes the core temperature of your body, washes the heat from your eyes." Isn't it the most wonderful sensation? Takes your breath away. I can hear peace in your voice. I'll be here when you get "home" (X)
- August 27, 2011 at 3:05 pm
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Martyn Joseph a Welsh singer songwriter has a fabulous line where he sings, “no further forward, just further along” and it so describes times like this in our lives.
- August 27, 2011 at 1:27 pm
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I am so proud of you, and we will support you with whatever decision you make xx
Previous post: Reckless?
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: There’s A Bear In There….
This Is Not An Art Blog. – RRSAHM
This Is Not An Art Blog.
I really suck at any type of visual art activity. Not even kind of suck. I really suck. I’ve always sucked at it, and probably always will suck at it.
Thinking in shape and texture hurts my head. I’m better with words.
Anyway. Can you tell, already, that I am a pale lime shade of green with envy?? Last weekend I attended a Soft Stone Sculpture class thanks to Red Balloon. And I was reminded that I do not like being bad at things.
It’s a generational thing, perhaps. I’ve been told my whole life that I can do anything. And goddammit, I will do everything and be good at it. Or completely give up that activity and never, ever try it again.
Which is pretty much what I’ve done with all things arty and/or crafty. Up until Saturday’s sculpting workshop, anyway. It was another one of those “I didn’t really think this through properly” moments. I thought I’d be pouring mixture into moulds and what-not.
Wrong. Soft stone sculpture is, of course. just what it claims to be- sculpting soft stone into durable garden ornaments. That’s the afternoon part of the day, anyway. Before you get to that, you have make your cement and sand and sculpting stuff mixture, and allow it to set.
Making messes.
That bit was lots of fun. Kind of like mud pies for adults. The class is held in an actual pottery room, complete with drop-clothes on the floors and tables. And the general rule was that if you weren’t making a mess, you weren’t doing this properly.
Making a mess (and not being the one to clean it up)… I can totally do that.
Messes into moulds.
After making our messes, we poured our mixture into rectangular moulds so it could harden for a bit. Then we set about drawing our designs on paper.
That’s where I started to have a bit of trouble.
Using the book of suggestions that Robert, the instructor, handed out; I choose myself a very zen looking curly abstract thing to create with my soft stone mould. I had enough issues just drawing a valid representation of it, never mind making it 3D.
The next task was to carve mini prototype models from soap. Soap behaves a little bit stone, apparently, so the whole idea is to get some technique happening and a few ideas of what could go wrong. Poor Robert must have said to me “Patience, Lori, patience!!” about ten times as I hacked into the unsuspecting bar of Sunlight.
My soap model is awesome, despite my hacking. But you can begin to see my sculptures gradual metamorphosis from abstract curl to chunky snail/wave/dolphin/seal hybrid.
Soap model, and it’s hybrid seal/wave/curl cousin.
It’s after lunch when we remove our stone from its mould and begin sculpting. Soft stone sculpture is so relaxing. There were five students in the class, and two instructors who roamed between us, cleaning up our piles of mess and making hints and suggestions The whole thing was very chilled and everyone was quiet and absorbed, concentrating on what they were doing.
Even after my lopsided, top-heavy snail/curl/dolphin/seal/thing sculpture broke clean in half, I was still zen. Robert and I just tipped the sculpture on it’s side, patched it up and continued on working. And all was well.
Kinda. To be honest, my sculpture wasn’t that bad. It was passable. The crack mended well, and we added a sparkly stone and another curly thing as an embellishment. But, as I said- visual arts, not my thing.
And self-comparison is a bitch. The chick working next to me was highly talented and managed to turn a ragged block of soft stone into this gorgeous face, 3D face in two and a half hours.
Actual art. What can be done with soft stone, if you have talent.
Dammit. So Jealous. But still, proud of my curly snail/wave thing.
Unfortunately, pride comes before dropping the curly snail/wave thing on the ground the next day. Curly snail/wave thing was just wet enough to crack right at it’s weak point. But not wet enough to be able mend it.
Dammit, again.
Anyway. At the time I chose this activity, I had no idea we’d be moving. I wanted something to add to my fairy garden. The new plan was to take it to Melbourne to put in the garden there.
But, considering the way the curly wave/snail sculpture is cracked in the middle, it’s probably for the best that it stays here, in the Broken Garden at the TinyTrainHouse. With a little dry leaf camouflage, it looks like it was meant to be here all along.
The broken seal/wave/curl thing in it’s natural habitat.
***
Thanks to the team at Digital Parents Collective for inviting me to be a part of the RedBalloon Experience Program. Stay tuned- more awesomeness over the next few months. As always, all opinions are my own (because no one else would want them…?) however the experiences are complimentary.
And, just for jellbeans,
there’s a special offer for RRSAHM readers- Spend $79 or more on any RedBalloon experience, and receive $20 off.
To redeem: Visit www.redballoon.com.au and enter the promo code
REDBLOG14 at the checkout to receive your discount.
Terms and Conditions: Offer valid until 30/06/2014. Promotional Code can
only be used once
per person. All purchases are subject to Red Balloon T’s and C’s.
per person. All purchases are subject to Red Balloon T’s and C’s.
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{ 4 comments… read them below or add one }
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August 25, 2013 at 3:06 pm -
I like it! I’m not a ‘creative’ person either, but since I want to inspire the kidlets I’ve decided that I’m just going to do it anyway, even if I suck at it. And you know, I’ve found the process quite therapeutic (even if the results are, well lets face it, quite terrible).
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August 21, 2013 at 11:15 am -
It looks like it is smiling in your garden?? I also suck at these kind of things, so much so that my creations in Technics or Home Ec would always be the best in the class as the teachers would always take pity on me and take over… Best wishes for you in Melbourne xx
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August 20, 2013 at 2:21 pm -
We had to do sculpture in highschool, I believe the stuff we used was called Hebel? Anyway, I was about as good at it as you are!
I totally hear you on not being interested in doing stuff that I’m not good at right away. I’m glad I’m not the only one!
I think it looks lovely in your garden, and totally like it was supposed to be that way
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August 20, 2013 at 4:58 pm -
Ha- thanks Molly :p x
Lori Dwyer recently posted…This Is Not An Art Blog.
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Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Jeans and Stuff.
The Thing With Cats – RRSAHM
The Thing With Cats
I really should know better than to make bold, sweeping statements like “It’s been a bad week. The next one has to be better.” You’d think, with karma and broken mirror–type–surfaces kicking my existential arse, I would know better already.
Clearly not.
Remember George the cat? He had something of a misadventure on Monday night. So far he’s alive but not well at all– fevered, shaking, sooky. Weirdly, it’s very much like having a tiny baby with a heavy cold.
Allow me to explain.
I was actually organized enough to be ready to crawl (thankfully) into bed by midnight on Monday night– that’s something of a small miracle considering lately it’s been more like one am, sometimes two. George the cat is only about twelve weeks old and has the very devil in him– the last four weeks his soul mission has been rocketing toward the font or back door the moment it’s opened, hoping to streak past the ankles of unsuspecting visitors who don’t heed my cry of “Ahhhh!! Close the door! Cat!” with quite enough urgency.
Sometimes, he succeeds.
I only have one pair of hands, hey. Two kids, two cats, a whole life full of things to juggle… Sometimes balls get dropped. Or kittens, as the case may be.
Anyway. Late Monday afternoon, George the Houdini Cat did the bolt via the back door and ended up in the back garden. Minutes later I heard one of those awful, blood curdling cat fight screeches, and big ruffled orange tomcat came bolting out if the bushes.
No sign of George.
Stupid freaking cat.
I didn’t mention anything at all to the kidlets– no point, really– just called out for George occasionally, more and more as the sun went down; and sat with the sinking, concrete feeling deep in my guts that we’d lost another pet, that they were going to have deal with shit all over again.
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| I’m sure he thinks it’s a sunbed. |
One last time, just on midnight, shaking a box of dry cat food and wrapped against the spring chill of the TinyTrainTown air, I leaned over the back balcony into the darkness and called, high pitched but halfheartedly “Georgie!! Puss puss puss puss puss!! Georgie Peorgie!! Dinnnnnner time!!”
And I heard, in response, a tiny “Mew! Mew! Mew!”
I’m not sure if I’m relieved the cat’s alive; or just pissed off because I was seriously looking forward to crawling into bed. Either way, the cat and I begin to play ’Marco!’ ’Polo!’, pausing for a time–out while I jogged back inside and grabbed a mushroom lamp to serve as a torch.
“Georgie?”
“Mew! Mew!” He sounds so pitiful that, for a few moments there, I’m not even pissed.
Until I realize he’s stuck twenty feet up a thirty foot high gum tree at the very back of the TinyTrainTown backyard, only a metre or two from the fence that separates our yard from next door’s three large dogs. While well trained and well behaved, they’d rip a tiny kitten to shreds, regardless.
“Oh for pity’s sake…” I murmur under my breath. “This is ridiculous.”
You can ’tsk tsk’ me at will, but… I don’t own a ladder. I’ve been meaning to buy one for quite a while now. It’s on the to–do list. I know- idiot. A ladder is one of those things that you can never just pop out to the shops and buy when you really need one. When you really need a ladder, the shops are always closed.
And that’s how I find myself, at almost two am, standing on top of milk crate that’s perched precariously on a garden chair, eight foot garden rake extended into the tree branches above me, lamp tucked beneath my chin, in my pajamas, still quite literally cat calling while the dogs bark and growl and scratch on the other side of the fence.
 |
| Cat-in-a-bag. |
Poor cat. I was having flashbacks to those cartoons where Bugs Bunny is trapped on a tree branch high above a boiling, blistering lake of snapping, hand drawn alligators.
The flashbacks– and any sympathy I have for the cat– disappear thirty seconds later when a light suddenly comes on and out wanders my neighbor, in the shearers singlet and footy shorts that served as his own set of pj’s.
“Erm… Hi.” I say, one arm still wrapped firmly around the tree lest my shaky foot support give way. “You wouldn’t have a ladder, by any chance…?”
Three cheers for my neighbor who, after he’d woken up a bit and, I think, figured out I wasn’t actually climbing a tree in his yard; was quite helpful and procured much-needed ladder. Which, of course, I only got half way up before George the cat came clambering down, face first, my only reward for attempting to grab him two long, infected cat slashes down my thumb and ring finger.
“F*ck it, f*ck it, f*ck it, f*ck you cat!!”
I thank my neighbor, scoop up the kitten, scolding him gently in a shaky voice, the way you would a small child who’s scared the wits out of you by running off in a crowded supermarket.
It’s only once I get him inside, pop him down on the ground, that I notice his limp, his poor little mangled front paw, the leg swollen and jarred, dark blood crusted on his fur.
I call my mum. Call the vet. Cry.
It seems this week isn’t going to be much better than the last one, after all.
***
So far, George is recovering from a bad tom-cat bite, has not cost me a fortune in vet’s bills, and should be OK.
Fingers crossed. I’ll keep you posted.
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{ 13 comments… read them below or add one }
- October 31, 2012 at 11:26 am
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Poor George. You didn't happen to get him from free from the TinyTrainTown vet did you? He looks spookily like the kitten that we got from there a few weeks ago. Our little munchkin Floyd is constantly attempting to get out but we have a few local cats patrolling the area, even attempting to attack through glass doors and windows
- October 26, 2012 at 2:24 pm
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My cat once spent a night and half a day in the linen cupboard after he snuck in once while I was getting sheets. Heard a pitiful meow the next day about 1 pm. Fat black hairy cat had had fun with all my white sheets haha
- October 26, 2012 at 10:51 am
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Bloody cats! We have two, and when we moved here, our big cat found out he could get out via a tiny door on the side of the bathtub (don't ask!) and under the house. We've managed to bolt it shut, but not before he hit the town one too many times.
I hope you cat is all better soon.
- October 25, 2012 at 12:46 am
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You really have the most abominable luck. Did you break a mirror or something? Smudge stick your house, turn around in a circle three times and spit, throw some salt over your left shoulder, put your pants on left leg first, sleep with your head towards the door, put spiders out of the house instead of killing them, grow some ivy on the side of the TTH, and by all means– procure a St. Francis medal.
Seriously though, Good luck to little George. I'm pulling for him. I'm also sort of secretly hoping that Mr. Tree turns back up. Perhaps someone took him in thinking he was a stray?
- October 24, 2012 at 10:51 pm
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Oh, that just sucks. I'm so glad George has at least been rescued and I'll definitely be sending good thoughts his way in hopes for a full recovery. HUG!!!
– Crystal
- October 24, 2012 at 5:00 pm
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Awww. I really hope that George gets better soon. We also have had our share of cat adventures. One day, a long long time ago, I got back home from work and to hear our Maine Coon mongrel meowing and meowing. But despite making a tour of the entire house I could not find the bugger. Eventually, I trace the source of his cries to the spare room, which was one of the first places that I had checked, but no sign of the cat, until I remember that he enjoys sleeping on the top of the cupboard, and even though I have checked there and there was no sign of the cat. Until it dawns on me that there is a space between the cupboards (those out of a kit kind) and the wall. So, cat found, great. Except how do you get the creature out of the space which is 2 meters deep and about 15 cm wide? Answer with difficulty. Finally, after lots of comical attempts, including trying to convince the creature to grab hold of a towel, my husband gets home. And from there we managed to disassemble the cupboard enough to rescue the poor creature. He went up on top of the cupboard (which had been his previous favourite spot) once again. I think to prove to himself that he was not scared.
- October 24, 2012 at 4:32 pm
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sending you big squishy boobie hugs (18week old breasting feeding boobs are the bomb!!!) xxx Kaz, hope things pick up for you soon xxx
- October 24, 2012 at 1:11 pm
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Have to giggle at you and George playing Marco Polo.Hours of family fun!!
- October 24, 2012 at 12:21 pm
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Oh man,what a week Lori!
Good wishes and healing vibes to you and Georgie.Two cats? Did you end up finding Mr Tree or have I missed a post somewhere?
Shannon
- October 24, 2012 at 12:18 pm
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Did you buy a ladder yet?
- October 24, 2012 at 10:31 am
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The laptop pictures is adorable and explains exactly why you went through all of that to keep George Kitten alive and healthy. I so hope he recovers well and grows up to be a much more cautious and slightly less curious George.
- October 24, 2012 at 9:35 am
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Oh the poor bub! Hope he gets well soon…sending a lot of love his way and really hoping your week gets better. He looks gorgeous by the way. And my cats love my laptop too!
I live in an apartment and have 2 cats…have to be very careful they don't get out. I used to let them go out in the balcony with me supervising them but then one of mine almost jumped over and gave me a heart attack. Since then, there's no balcony adventures either. Mine took turns falling sick in this last year. And one of them seems to have a lot of anxiety. Sigh.
- October 24, 2012 at 8:43 am
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I'm glad George is okay-ish! Oh man, I've been there – outside in some ridiculous pose with a torch clamped between my teeth, going after the cat as the neighbors look on and politely (but with that 'it's just the crazy cat woman next door' look in their eyes) ask me what on earth am I doing?
Bloody cats! I've had mine for 12 years and she's my best little friend, but holy shit has she put me through some utterly ridiculous adventures. Like the time she got stuck in the roof for five days. Or the time she fell into a busted sewerage pipe and got covered with muck that only later (once she and I had wrangled her clean) revealed a huge tear in her hindquarters that required expensive surgery and lots of pills. Or her cat anxiety that requires medication (she is MY cat after all, it's only natural she takes after me.) Or her absolute intolerance of other cats that leads to fights, then abscesses and more bloody surgery. Or even just her nightly bloodlust for my bare toes.
Still, I love her a bunch- all the annoying stuff aside, she's been a great little companion my entire adult life.
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Random Ramblings of a SAHM: So… now what?
It's Just That Time Of Year. – RRSAHM
It’s Just That Time Of Year.
I know. I said I was taking a mini-break between Christmas and New Year. I lied. Obviously.
Jingle bells, I hate elves, jingle all the way!
There are a good many things I hate about Christmas. I chronicled just a few of them the other day. Paper party hats, driving sloooooowly past the Christmas lights again, and the fellatio angel are just a few of them.
On the other candy cane hand, there are a good many things I love about Christmas. Paper party hats, stealing people’s Christmas lights driving sloooooowly past the Christmas lights again, and the fellatio angel are just a few of them. Add carols, festive cheer and Tourettes Santa, and we have ourselves a list.
And we can add, to the list of Stuff Lori Loves About Christmas, a very potent, powerful phrase that I use a lot around any festive season…
Photo irrelevant. The aftermath of Xmas morning in the Pruple House.
“It’s just this time of year.”
Because there is a phrase that pretty much excuses everything.
“Oh, my, the children are so feral today.”
“Oh, I know. It’s just that time of year.”
“We are just so freaking broke at the moment”.
Big sigh. “Oh, yes. Us too. It’s just that time of year”.
I likes.
I am, by nature, the type of person who will take a good excuse and flog it till it is panting and exhausted and begging for someone to finally give me a good kick up the bum and get my act into gear.
Chronic procrastination is a hobby of mine.
Christmas makes that even easier. Because it’s just that time of year. The house is filthy, but that’s OK, because it’s just that time of year. I have three baskets of unfolded washing sitting on the dining room table, but that’s OK too. Because it’s just that time of year. I am freaking exhausted, but that’s understandable- you see, it’s just that time of year.
I haven’t shaved my legs in a month. that’s actually quite a normal occurrence (Hmmmmm. I really better watch myself. Not so sexy, FormSpring admirer?). But at the moment, I have an excuse. Because it’s just that time of year.
Photo irrelevant. But I must say, bon bon party favours are awesome for keeping one’s self amused at the in-laws luncheon. Yes? Yes.
The Man may have fed the one-year old Bump a glass of green cordial today. Also A-OK. Kinda. Sorta. Filling a small child with gratuitous amounts of sugar is certainly not something I’d normally condone.
But it’s just that time of year.
Which is absolutely freaking brilliant.
The truly ridiculous part of all of this is that I’m not even that busy. I get organised early, and then sit back, smug. Wrapped in my smugness. Like a present that’s been wrapped two weeks before Christmas, that’s how smug I am.
And after that, I do.. well… nothing. Taking past disasters into account, I dare not bake. Decorations are minimal, with small children wandering around that will not only destroy said decorations, but quite possibly choke on them.
And still, I am exhausted.
Because it’s just that time of year.
I figure the line is going to be good up until at least the second of January. After the second of January, it will no longer really be any particular “time of the year”. So I will have to put on my big girl panties and get stuck into things find another good excuse.
At least until Easter. Unfortunately, there’s then a huge gap between Easter and next Christmas. And with Christmas comes birthday season in the Purple House, the heat of summer and financial scrimping. Excuses, excuses, excuses. The light at the end of the excruciatingly long tunnel of procrastination.
As I said- I love it.
It’s just this time of year.
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{ 10 comments… read them below or add one }
- December 31, 2010 at 7:33 am
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I love the build up and I love the climax of christmas but then this shitty bit before new years just drags on and on….maybe I should take some speed to speed things up – oops what would Mrs Winterpepper say to that? She's probably on her knees in church as we speak
- December 31, 2010 at 7:39 am
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Hey you got the same bon bon toys, which are sames ones I got last year, and the year before, and the previous 20 years before that. Who is in charge of the bon bon toys anyway? They should fire them.
We got one lot of bon bons that were 'Premium'..they had nail clippers in them.
Also, the use of the phrase "It's just that time of the month" will usually stop any further questioning about any topic.
- December 28, 2010 at 4:40 am
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great post! I am going to start using the "it's that time of year" excuse today. I do not want to do any of this laundry I have.
- December 28, 2010 at 12:54 am
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I meant to comment before now but, it's just that time of year. Hope you and your family had a great Christmas.
- December 27, 2010 at 8:32 am
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Stopping in to say a belated "Merry Christmas" from my couch to yours as I can't be bothered getting up and doing anything today….. after-all, it's that time of the year.
- December 26, 2010 at 12:40 pm
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Ah, after new year if you have school aged children you can start saying "I'll do it when school starts." eg. There's no point cleaning the house when the kids are on holidays, I'll do it when school starts again." Good for any holiday period really.
- December 25, 2010 at 10:36 pm
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I use "that time of year" all year round. It's such a convenient line, it covers everything.
Christmas. New Year. Summer. First week of the new school year. School Holidays. Easter. Winter. Final school term with all its stresses, (exams etc). The lead up to Christmas…. - December 25, 2010 at 5:44 pm
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you call that a break lol
you cracker you
wow! love the lounge room thats what mine looked like the other day them i had to bloomin clean it as the nice mother in law came for lunch hehehehe!
Have a wonderful xmas and New year blah ,blah , heres to a better year hopeing! 2011 xxxx - December 25, 2010 at 3:38 pm
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I've been using that phrase a lot lately. Fortunately for me I am still in school and juggling a full time job and family, so I can always come up with some excuse…"it's midterms", "the boy has football", etc.
- December 25, 2010 at 3:33 pm
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holy cow – that was the shortest mini break in history – need to coin a new expression for that one…nano-break perhaps (perhaps not)
Did I mention I don't drink much either…explains the lack of excellent verbosity when not over tired
xxxCate
PS: everyone else is asleep (and the dishes are done) in case you're wondering why the **** I'm reading blogs on xmas day!!
{ 7 comments… read them below or add one }
my elder children are now young adults – 18 years old – and I still surprise myself with things I thought I knew about them ..
Lori, the exact same thing happened when we moved 4 years ago, we were really worried how Miss 5 1/2 who had just started Kindergarten would cope as she was our emotional kid and expected Miss 3 would love it as she was our easy going kid. NOPE, Miss 5 1/2 settled in perfectly and loved her new home and town and didn’t look back, Miss 3 was constantly asking to go home to her real house
It took about 6 months for her to accept this was now home and 4 years later it was the best thing for our family. Hope it all works out for you after such a hard few years.
They will always surprise you. And they will always adapt better then you expect. Good luck!
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It was amazing to me to live through my daughter’s growth into such an independant creature that she is now. At 3, I knew just what she would love to wear…I knew EVERYTHING about her. As she grew and developed her own individuality, though I was always proud, SO PROUD…sometimes it would astonish me and make me a little said at how differently she was developing from me! She became herself…not just my little mini-me. Last year (she was 16), she took one of those Myers-Briggs tests. I’ve taken several in the course of my career…I always come out as an ENTJ (Extrovert-but barely, Intuition, Thinking, Judgment)…my daughter came out as an ESFJ (Extrovert-rampagin, Sensing, Feeling, Judment). I couldn’t believe there were these huge differences in our personality types!
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Little darlins, Bless their cotton socks.
I’m an ex-Melborne girl &I still miss it. She-who-worships-pink loves visiting Nana on Philip Island where we all go to the wildlife park in Cowes & feed the Kangas.(scary & delightful in equal portions being up close & personal with large mamals litterally eating out of the palm of your hands) She also adores the penguin parade, while her mummy just dreams of bumping into one of the Hemsworth boys. Something on ‘the Island’ for everyone!. Hope youre moving around West St Kilda, that was my fav – although I lived mostly in Richmond near the MCG.
Once youre settled, you will enjoy it so much: All that culcha too!
good luck with the move xo
Suzy Mac recently posted…Giddyup!
I am in melbourne (dandenong ranges ) if i can be of help
Frankly, I don’t think they ever cease to surprise you. Good luck with the packing and the move!
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