Monthly Archives: May 2016
The Sticks. – RRSAHM
The Sticks.
I find myself occasionally feeling as though I have to defend my decision to live contentedly here in TinyTrainTown– in the sticks. Semi–rural. Bush. ‘All the way out here’.
Each and every courier, tradesman or journo who’s ever come to the TinyTrainHouse comments on how far away it is from anywhere. How very small the town is. How they’ve never even heard of TinyTrainTown before. The tradies who get lost on the way here are always the most disparaging, their good humor eaten up by un-curbed roads that seem to stretch forever and all kind of look the same.
“How did you come to live out here…?” People are generally mystified as to why anyone would want to live where I do. I stare back at them, equally bemused, amazed that they’re unable to see what I see.
I guess it’s true, it might seem slightly isolated. TinyTrainTown is at least an hour and half drive from Sydney. We’re fifteen minutes from the nearest service station or major supermarket, probably forty minutes from any larger stores or services.
The road into town is eight kilometers of scrub and barely used train tracks. The population tops about 700 people (and that seems an over-estimate, really). As I’ve heard said, TinyTrainTown is so small it ‘doesn’t even have a pub!’
The town is not particularly quaint or pretty. It’s so nondescript that you could literally drive through it and not realise you’d been here. The mobile reception is nonexistent, and even the land-line home phone and ADSL internet crackles and drops out terribly if it happens to be raining. Or windy. Or, you know, Wednesday. Whenever.
But that’s the worst of it. The tarnished view of the penny, the dark side of the moon. There’s always more to things than that. And if nothing else, I tend to be an optimist.
It’s quiet here, peaceful. There is no din of constant traffic, no continual thrum of people. I like that. When I was little, growing up in Paradise, it was so quiet at night you could hear the rumbling boom of thunderstorms far out at sea. I remember, as a child, staying at a relative’s house in the middle of the city suburbs and being unable to sleep for the never ending noise coming from the streets outside. The cars. The horns. Music. People. It’s never quiet, not really. You get used to it, I know that. But I’ve grown accustomed to the silence again. The only thing that desecrates it is the occasional passing car.
While the town itself is nothing much to look at, the scrubby eucalyptus bushland of the national parks that surround it are soul-soothingly pleasant. A thousand different shades of green. There are parrots and cockatoos, possums and sugar gliders. Sandstone caves and tiny creeks. Snakes and spiders, too, of course; but I don’t think any kid is really that much worse off for having a basic knowledge of them (‘basic’ rather than ‘intimate’ being the key wording here).
People know people, in TinyTrainTown. While I’m never really been a rah-rah-community-spirit kind of person and I tend to keep to myself, I know my neighbors by first name and the local shopkeepers by sight.
We actually do have shops here, though they’re as easy as anything else in the town to miss. Three of them, in fact- a fish and chip shop; a small supermarket; and post office/newsagent/grocery/DVD hire. All the shops are overpriced and sell short-dated stock at the tills, but you can still get all the basics you need.
We walk to the shops, most days, when we’re not in a hurry and the weather’s favorable. Some days we walk home from daycare and school. The round trip never takes longer than half an hour by foot, no more than four minutes by car. If it takes longer than two minutes to drive there… it’s probably not in TinyTrainTown.
It’s safe here. It feel secure. It feels like a wholesome place to bring up small children. And most of the time, it’s just a nice place to be.
None of this seems to sway anyone’s opinion. “Yeah but, love… it’s just so far away!”
I find the only answer anyone gets is in the language everyone seems to understand.
“Uhhhh… The house prices are cheap. Three bedroom house, big backyard…”
And that makes logical sense to most incredulous tradesman who’ve made the hour trek to TinyTrainTown. It’s easier to see the appeal in that; in choosing between a tiny flat or a huge mortgage an hour closer to the city, or having a house of my own and dealing with the occasional inconvenience of living ‘all the way out here’.
I made the right choice– I rarely ever doubt that. It’s just other people, I find, that take some convincing.
Previous post: Being A ‘Good Mum’ (And Other Righteous BullSh*t).
Next post: Seamless.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: F*ck.
Join the CIRKUS – RRSAHM
Join the CIRKUS
I love IKEA.
An IKEA catalogue is the equivalent of pornography for house mums such as myself. Add in a self confessed tendency for being ever so slightly.. well… I’d like to say ‘organised’, but others may say ‘anal’; and we have match made in flat packed Heaven.
I perform a yearly pilgrimage to the mecca that is IKEA. Tony hated it. He tried to take shortcuts through the store. Any good IKEAphile knows that is just not allowed. One must trek the entire IKEA store, lest you miss out on some awesome bargain, like a bag of bread clips or a bamboo fruit bowl. One must also take a paper measuring tape and pocket it at some point during the journey. Novices may also pocket the pygmy IKEA pencils, but you get over that once you become a more seasoned, serious pilgrim.
Back when I worked as a clown I spent a lot of time working in the IKEA kids department. I adore the kids department. From the little egg chairs that you can close yourself in to the massive range of wooden and soft toys, educational and cute.
This Christmas, IKEA is donating 1 pound (I don’t know where the pound sign is on my keyboard, I’m not even sure I have one. But that works out to roughly $1.40 Straylan.) from every soft toy purchased between November 1 and December 24 to UNICEF and Save The Children. It may not sound like a lot, but it adds up quicker, and makes for a much happier 2012 for a lot of people. And God knows I’m all for a much happier 2012.
To say Merry Christmas to RRSAHM readers, IKEA has given me a pack of their new CIRKUS toys to give away. Quite fitting, really. We gots a set of building blocks (that’s me on the left), a LEKA (Swedish for ‘bunny in hat’, obviously), a KLAPPAR (I’m not really sure what that’s Swedish for), and my personal favorite…
…. a puppet studio. Stuff the kids, I will have hours of fun with this.
OK, jellybeans. The last time I asked this question on my blog, no one bleeping answered. Here’s hoping we have better luck this time. To win an IKEA CIRKUS pack, valued at $37.96, answer me this…
If you were in the circus (or CIRKUS, as the case may be), what would you be? If you want to be the ringmaster, get your own circus. That’s my job.
You have until midnight AEST on Friday 16 December to answer, here, by leaving a comment. The answer that amuses or confuses me the most wins. Sorry overseas jellybeans, but this one is Australian entrants only. My judgement is final and no discussion or narkiness will be entered into. Winner will be contacted by email (please leave a valid email address with your comment), and announced on the blog, Twitter and FaceBook. To disclaim and disclose, I haven’t been paid for this post- it’s for charity, people- but I was sent a pack of the IKEA CIRKUS toys for the kidlets.
Leave a Comment
{ 42 comments… read them below or add one }
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May 6, 2012 at 4:29 pm -
Nice post which Any good IKEAphile knows that is just not allowed. One must trek the entire IKEA store, lest you miss out on some awesome bargain, like a bag of bread clips or a bamboo fruit bowl. Thanks a lot for posting this article.
- December 17, 2011 at 3:10 am
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I can't enter being in Canada, but I' AM a clown so, I'd say the bearded lady in the side show. good luck friends! (I'm off to see the Ikea web site to see if there are available in Canada!!!!)
- December 14, 2011 at 9:30 pm
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what would I be? I'd be the hoola hoop lady, imagine what other tricks I could get up to if I could swing my hips like that. Oh Ok, maybe you shouldn't think about that one.
- December 14, 2011 at 4:11 pm
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I would be the amazing hula hooping woman, spinning so many hoops at the one time!! Not a talent I actually have but one I covet after going to the circus with my little ones this year!!
- December 14, 2011 at 3:46 pm
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I think i'd be an Elephant, slow, methodical and yet captivating!
- December 14, 2011 at 3:29 pm
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I absolutely love the circus. My Granddad always took me (and the rest of my family) and made us all love it. It's definitely in my blood, with my great-grandfather running away to join the circus to be an acrobat.
For myself, I always wanted to be a trapeze artist. But then I did that and I couldn't hold onto the bar. Then I wanted to be one of the trick riders, but horses are too tall for me. Then I wanted to be a juggler, but I have no hand-eye co-ordination.
So these days, if I was in a circus with exotic animals I would either be a lion tamer or I'd work with the elephants. If not, I would probably be a hula-hooper, and do 50 hula-hoops at once.
- December 14, 2011 at 3:27 pm
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I would be the person that stood next to the tiny pool from whence the divers dived from high…in case they missed the water I would make sure that I caught them or broke their fall..that way a talentless person like me would receive all the applause and accolade of the audiencen and thus proving a normal person of no seemingly obvious importance can in fact become the superhero and hence the star of the show!
- December 13, 2011 at 11:57 am
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I totally tried to comment yesterday but for whatever reason it's not worked.
I'd totally be the mouse that teaches dumbo to fly..
Or maybe the clown that has to jump from the burning house into the water tank.. or get splatted repeatedly with cream pies…
Yep most of my circus ideas are from cartoons! Though I have enjoyed Cirque de solieu a few times! They're amazign!
- December 13, 2011 at 8:53 am
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I was in the circus! My high school had a circus which performed at school fete's, primary schools and every sausage sizzle known to man!
I was a clown called Muddles, who could juggle and ride a unicycle. My Nan made my costume – which was half red, half blue & white checks and VERY COOL!
Although I was a clown I really wanted to be the tight rope walker. No balance for that though!
- December 13, 2011 at 6:42 am
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*giggles* I am in the Circus!
Albeit a (wonderful) community circus that doesn't travel.
So…My Magic Circus moments are up on the Lyra (a metal hoop that hangs high in the air), performing graceful poses (I'm working on the dangerous ones.. ;-p) as it spins slowly.
My favourite part of the Lyra though, is when our coach takes the nice safety mat away and we do swinging practice, hanging on to the lower curve of the lyra, giving ourselves a great run up and then swinging back and forth through the air!
Miss Pink, you would love the silks! That is my daughter's favourite and they are so much fun! Look for a community/women's circus near you, they are popping up everywhere! - December 13, 2011 at 5:31 am
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I would be a tight rope walker. It looks scary and thrilling and fun all at the same time. Or a lion trainer, for the same reasons! Just call me ROY. (I mean Lisa)
- December 13, 2011 at 2:41 am
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I live in Texas, but I'm going to answer anyway. I would be the one on the motorcycle in the big spherical cage thing, going around and around and upside-down and making a lot of noise (not sure if your circus has that particular component). The problem is that I don't know how to ride a motorcycle and I don't like noise. So I guess I'd be a lion.
- December 13, 2011 at 12:46 am
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I'd like to be a clown. We went to the circus last weekend and the clowns made my miss 5 laugh so hard she cried. I'd love to make her laugh like that. What a wonderful thing to have as a memory for a little'n
- December 12, 2011 at 10:33 pm
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If there was a like button I would have liked 'lydia la la's shit shoveller'. I think I would be the cook, animal feeder and chief bottlewasher as this is and has been my main duties for many many years… loads of experience… and with lydia to shovel the shit how could I go wrong….. I knew some smartarse would pick up on the November bit….
- December 12, 2011 at 10:11 pm
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Id like to be the magician's assistant, it would rock being able to be cut in half or made to disappear!
- December 12, 2011 at 9:50 pm
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Being a midget, is a dream
sick and tired of the tall scene.
I would juggle my balls,
do lots of sommersaults and falls.
I would chase the clowns
go on the trapeze, up and down.
Tickle the audience with my finesse,
maybe hide under someones dress!!
A circus midget Oh what fun!
The Big Tops favourite son. - December 12, 2011 at 9:23 pm
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The old joke contest, uh?
"You have until midnight AEST on Friday 16 November to answer, here, by leaving a comment."
It's not 1 April you know!!
- December 12, 2011 at 9:12 pm
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Definitely an acrobat on the swings… so much fun! If I get to NZ, I want to go on the worlds biggest swing…weee!
- December 12, 2011 at 9:11 pm
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I would be a clown as I love nothing more in life than making people laugh. I occasionally (ok all the time) do stupid things so it would be a breeze.
- December 12, 2011 at 8:48 pm
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There is no way in the known universe because you know that scare the absoulte be-jesus out of me!
That being said, i thing i'd be some kind of acrobat – like on a silk or a ring trapeze a'la Cirque Du Soleil – best.circus.ever! - December 12, 2011 at 5:39 pm
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I think I'd be one of the motorbike riders in that enclosed metal cage. They are precision riders, but living on the edge. They rely on each other as a team, but they each their own thing to do.
I love the circus – it's such a fun thing to watch
Narelle - December 12, 2011 at 3:49 pm
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A fondness for dress- ups and secretly-wanting-to-be-the-centre-of-attention tendencies make me perfect for the circus. Best of all is the clown.
Frequently funny
Always amusing
Definitely dramaticI want to be.
Plus nobody needs to recognize you when your out of your costume but there isn't anywhere to hide in a leotard you tightrope-trapeze types!
- December 12, 2011 at 3:46 pm
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Great prize giveaway Lori! I'd be the clown! Being a teacher n being rather silly at times I love to see that I have made a child smile! Lots of people including u n me haven't had the easiest of times (mine more physical tho, not on the same scale!), I want to make children n adults alike laugh if only for a minute or second n forget about their problems no matter how big or small!
- December 12, 2011 at 3:16 pm
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I've just eaten a packet of Tarzan jubes so if that doesn't help me be a trapeze artist who swings like Tarzan….then I'll be the fat Lady of the Circus!
- December 12, 2011 at 1:29 pm
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I have always been in awe of the silk trapeeze artists.
Could you see me doing it?All that twirling looks like a lot of fun, and so graceful and beautiful.
Besides Mr Black would probably like it if I were that flexible?
- December 12, 2011 at 1:29 pm
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I have always been in awe of the silk trapeeze artists.
Could you see me doing it?All that twirling looks like a lot of fun, and so graceful and beautiful.
Besides Mr Black would probably like it if I were that flexible?
- December 12, 2011 at 1:20 pm
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I wanna be the one that does the knife throwing on someone on a spinning wheel, because I like danger, or maybe deal with dangerous animals, or maybe do a unicycle on a tight rope. I'm conflicted.
- December 12, 2011 at 11:34 pm
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Shoot me out of a cannon any day. Into a bunch of clowns with squeaky red noses so it makes lots of noise. Add some braying donkeys for extra mayhem. Maybe an elephant. And a monkey in a red hat.
- December 12, 2011 at 11:58 am
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I'd love to be an acrobat – with all the grace and courage I lack in my regular life
- December 12, 2011 at 11:49 am
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I'd be the chick in a tutu riding a beautiful white horse and doing tricks, they always seemed to have such fun doing that in Enid Blyton books, and really, who can argue with a tutu???
- December 12, 2011 at 11:32 am
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I'd be the bearded lady (thanks to my PCOS) in the sideshow alley – people would come and marvel at my hairy face and I wouldn't feel so out of place
- December 12, 2011 at 11:25 am
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Ok so I don't like heights, fast things, lions and horses scare me soooo I'm thinking the magicians assistant in a lovely sparkling dress.
- December 12, 2011 at 11:18 am
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I would be a lion tamer, between husband, kids & dog I am already qualified to tame just about anything, it would probably seem easy to be doing just one job!
- December 12, 2011 at 11:17 am
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If I was in a circus (just wait I have 3 kids I live in a circus) I would be in the trapeze because it rhymes with Louise.
We love Ikea here because it rhymes with Maria and Sofia.
Thanks for the competition.
regards
Louise taylormadecakes
- December 12, 2011 at 11:01 am
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Technically I don't live in Australia, but my eldest and my sister currently residing in Sydney, so I'm going to cheekily enter because we have no IKEA in New Zealand and that is tragic!!
I would be the white rabbit just popping out here and there!!!
- December 12, 2011 at 10:20 am
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I am so with you on loving Ikea. I live 1000 kilometres from the nearest one and it grieves me!
I would be the Shit Shoveller. I would never be out of work and if the circus had to close due to apathy or animal cruelty, I would go to Parliament house in Canberra where there is plenty of shit to shovel.
May your Guardian Angels be there for you and the children over Christmas and 2012. xo - December 12, 2011 at 9:20 pm
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Fortune Teller. In my own Gypsy/Carny van. I would be taking no shit from the midgets.
Stuff the big tent, side show ally is where the real action is.
x
lbc01@optusnet.com.au - December 12, 2011 at 10:03 am
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I would be the tight-rope walker. I have always loved to balance. When we lived in Queensland, I used to walk along the fence on the balcony 5 m off the ground (when my parents weren't watching). When we lived in Defence housing, I used to walk along the pipe on the top of our fence. Loved it!
- December 12, 2011 at 8:52 am
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I assume you mean Friday 16 December?
Anyway, if I could be in the circus I'd want to be one of the trick pony rider. Acrobatics and horseriding, bliss! Wonder if I could somehow manage a trapeze act in there somehow as well? Hmm, perhaps not the _pony_ on the trapeze though!
- December 12, 2011 at 8:38 am
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Under the Big Top
The jugglers wearing budgie smugglers/ on goes the show, but what people don't know/ Is that there in for a night, of tricks and fun/ There abs will hurt….. by the time that there done/ What a night, under the Big Top/ Kids get candy, and so-da pop/ First show, off we go/ It’s the midgets, little legs wont grow/ Watch them run, as they try to perform/ I swear I saw these guys, on some midget porn / Next comes the Ball of Death/ These guys must be high, riding on Meth/ Then the clowns….. silly as they are/ Driving around…… in a three wheeled car/ The Strong man….. is called to the stage/ Bending everything….. in a surly rage/ Then the climax….. of the night/ lights dim…. as they were way to bright/ The Dreamer is here….. and he steps ready to perform/ What a miracle…… that such a man was born/ His raps are so profound, and nothing but mystic/ You'd be bummed if u went out for candy and missed it/ His words ring trueness to everyone’s ears/ He can't hear himself…. over the cheers/ That’s it…. another show over for the week/ That’s good….. cause I can hardly speak. The Dreamer
So obviously in this I am the rapper…….. But conventional circuses don't often have a rapper, so I guess my second pick of who I would be in the Circus is the Jugglers wearing Budgie Smugglers!!! : )
- December 12, 2011 at 12:31 pm
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(Tania kind of beat me to it).
I'd be the bearded lady with a python around my neck have a little man with a goatee wearing tails as a side-kick. We read palms, tea leaves, minds and cards. My husband would be the strongman who chops wood. My kids would be working on an act with the elephants and tigers. and begging for a dancing bear from Santa.
Happy Christmas Lori! Cheers, Clare
- December 12, 2011 at 10:02 am
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I love IKEA! Id want to be one of those people that does dangerous things on a swing (if i was in a circus). My brains not working yet – have just woken up!
Previous post: The Active Avoidance of Resenting My Kids
Next post: The Christmas Kitten
Join the CIRKUS – RRSAHM
Join the CIRKUS
I love IKEA.
An IKEA catalogue is the equivalent of pornography for house mums such as myself. Add in a self confessed tendency for being ever so slightly.. well… I’d like to say ‘organised’, but others may say ‘anal’; and we have match made in flat packed Heaven.
I perform a yearly pilgrimage to the mecca that is IKEA. Tony hated it. He tried to take shortcuts through the store. Any good IKEAphile knows that is just not allowed. One must trek the entire IKEA store, lest you miss out on some awesome bargain, like a bag of bread clips or a bamboo fruit bowl. One must also take a paper measuring tape and pocket it at some point during the journey. Novices may also pocket the pygmy IKEA pencils, but you get over that once you become a more seasoned, serious pilgrim.
Back when I worked as a clown I spent a lot of time working in the IKEA kids department. I adore the kids department. From the little egg chairs that you can close yourself in to the massive range of wooden and soft toys, educational and cute.
This Christmas, IKEA is donating 1 pound (I don’t know where the pound sign is on my keyboard, I’m not even sure I have one. But that works out to roughly $1.40 Straylan.) from every soft toy purchased between November 1 and December 24 to UNICEF and Save The Children. It may not sound like a lot, but it adds up quicker, and makes for a much happier 2012 for a lot of people. And God knows I’m all for a much happier 2012.
To say Merry Christmas to RRSAHM readers, IKEA has given me a pack of their new CIRKUS toys to give away. Quite fitting, really. We gots a set of building blocks (that’s me on the left), a LEKA (Swedish for ‘bunny in hat’, obviously), a KLAPPAR (I’m not really sure what that’s Swedish for), and my personal favorite…
…. a puppet studio. Stuff the kids, I will have hours of fun with this.
OK, jellybeans. The last time I asked this question on my blog, no one bleeping answered. Here’s hoping we have better luck this time. To win an IKEA CIRKUS pack, valued at $37.96, answer me this…
If you were in the circus (or CIRKUS, as the case may be), what would you be? If you want to be the ringmaster, get your own circus. That’s my job.
You have until midnight AEST on Friday 16 December to answer, here, by leaving a comment. The answer that amuses or confuses me the most wins. Sorry overseas jellybeans, but this one is Australian entrants only. My judgement is final and no discussion or narkiness will be entered into. Winner will be contacted by email (please leave a valid email address with your comment), and announced on the blog, Twitter and FaceBook. To disclaim and disclose, I haven’t been paid for this post- it’s for charity, people- but I was sent a pack of the IKEA CIRKUS toys for the kidlets.
Leave a Comment
{ 42 comments… read them below or add one }
- May 6, 2012 at 4:29 pm
-
Nice post which Any good IKEAphile knows that is just not allowed. One must trek the entire IKEA store, lest you miss out on some awesome bargain, like a bag of bread clips or a bamboo fruit bowl. Thanks a lot for posting this article.
- December 17, 2011 at 3:10 am
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I can't enter being in Canada, but I' AM a clown so, I'd say the bearded lady in the side show. good luck friends! (I'm off to see the Ikea web site to see if there are available in Canada!!!!)
- December 14, 2011 at 9:30 pm
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what would I be? I'd be the hoola hoop lady, imagine what other tricks I could get up to if I could swing my hips like that. Oh Ok, maybe you shouldn't think about that one.
- December 14, 2011 at 4:11 pm
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I would be the amazing hula hooping woman, spinning so many hoops at the one time!! Not a talent I actually have but one I covet after going to the circus with my little ones this year!!
- December 14, 2011 at 3:46 pm
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I think i'd be an Elephant, slow, methodical and yet captivating!
- December 14, 2011 at 3:29 pm
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I absolutely love the circus. My Granddad always took me (and the rest of my family) and made us all love it. It's definitely in my blood, with my great-grandfather running away to join the circus to be an acrobat.
For myself, I always wanted to be a trapeze artist. But then I did that and I couldn't hold onto the bar. Then I wanted to be one of the trick riders, but horses are too tall for me. Then I wanted to be a juggler, but I have no hand-eye co-ordination.
So these days, if I was in a circus with exotic animals I would either be a lion tamer or I'd work with the elephants. If not, I would probably be a hula-hooper, and do 50 hula-hoops at once.
- December 14, 2011 at 3:27 pm
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I would be the person that stood next to the tiny pool from whence the divers dived from high…in case they missed the water I would make sure that I caught them or broke their fall..that way a talentless person like me would receive all the applause and accolade of the audiencen and thus proving a normal person of no seemingly obvious importance can in fact become the superhero and hence the star of the show!
- December 13, 2011 at 11:57 am
-
I totally tried to comment yesterday but for whatever reason it's not worked.
I'd totally be the mouse that teaches dumbo to fly..
Or maybe the clown that has to jump from the burning house into the water tank.. or get splatted repeatedly with cream pies…
Yep most of my circus ideas are from cartoons! Though I have enjoyed Cirque de solieu a few times! They're amazign!
- December 13, 2011 at 8:53 am
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I was in the circus! My high school had a circus which performed at school fete's, primary schools and every sausage sizzle known to man!
I was a clown called Muddles, who could juggle and ride a unicycle. My Nan made my costume – which was half red, half blue & white checks and VERY COOL!
Although I was a clown I really wanted to be the tight rope walker. No balance for that though!
- December 13, 2011 at 6:42 am
-
*giggles* I am in the Circus!
Albeit a (wonderful) community circus that doesn't travel.
So…My Magic Circus moments are up on the Lyra (a metal hoop that hangs high in the air), performing graceful poses (I'm working on the dangerous ones.. ;-p) as it spins slowly.
My favourite part of the Lyra though, is when our coach takes the nice safety mat away and we do swinging practice, hanging on to the lower curve of the lyra, giving ourselves a great run up and then swinging back and forth through the air!
Miss Pink, you would love the silks! That is my daughter's favourite and they are so much fun! Look for a community/women's circus near you, they are popping up everywhere! - December 13, 2011 at 5:31 am
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I would be a tight rope walker. It looks scary and thrilling and fun all at the same time. Or a lion trainer, for the same reasons! Just call me ROY. (I mean Lisa)
- December 13, 2011 at 2:41 am
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I live in Texas, but I'm going to answer anyway. I would be the one on the motorcycle in the big spherical cage thing, going around and around and upside-down and making a lot of noise (not sure if your circus has that particular component). The problem is that I don't know how to ride a motorcycle and I don't like noise. So I guess I'd be a lion.
- December 13, 2011 at 12:46 am
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I'd like to be a clown. We went to the circus last weekend and the clowns made my miss 5 laugh so hard she cried. I'd love to make her laugh like that. What a wonderful thing to have as a memory for a little'n
- December 12, 2011 at 10:33 pm
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If there was a like button I would have liked 'lydia la la's shit shoveller'. I think I would be the cook, animal feeder and chief bottlewasher as this is and has been my main duties for many many years… loads of experience… and with lydia to shovel the shit how could I go wrong….. I knew some smartarse would pick up on the November bit….
- December 12, 2011 at 10:11 pm
-
Id like to be the magician's assistant, it would rock being able to be cut in half or made to disappear!
- December 12, 2011 at 9:50 pm
-
Being a midget, is a dream
sick and tired of the tall scene.
I would juggle my balls,
do lots of sommersaults and falls.
I would chase the clowns
go on the trapeze, up and down.
Tickle the audience with my finesse,
maybe hide under someones dress!!
A circus midget Oh what fun!
The Big Tops favourite son. - December 12, 2011 at 9:23 pm
-
The old joke contest, uh?
"You have until midnight AEST on Friday 16 November to answer, here, by leaving a comment."
It's not 1 April you know!!
- December 12, 2011 at 9:12 pm
-
Definitely an acrobat on the swings… so much fun! If I get to NZ, I want to go on the worlds biggest swing…weee!
- December 12, 2011 at 9:11 pm
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I would be a clown as I love nothing more in life than making people laugh. I occasionally (ok all the time) do stupid things so it would be a breeze.
- December 12, 2011 at 8:48 pm
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There is no way in the known universe because you know that scare the absoulte be-jesus out of me!
That being said, i thing i'd be some kind of acrobat – like on a silk or a ring trapeze a'la Cirque Du Soleil – best.circus.ever! - December 12, 2011 at 5:39 pm
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I think I'd be one of the motorbike riders in that enclosed metal cage. They are precision riders, but living on the edge. They rely on each other as a team, but they each their own thing to do.
I love the circus – it's such a fun thing to watch
Narelle - December 12, 2011 at 3:49 pm
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A fondness for dress- ups and secretly-wanting-to-be-the-centre-of-attention tendencies make me perfect for the circus. Best of all is the clown.
Frequently funny
Always amusing
Definitely dramaticI want to be.
Plus nobody needs to recognize you when your out of your costume but there isn't anywhere to hide in a leotard you tightrope-trapeze types!
- December 12, 2011 at 3:46 pm
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Great prize giveaway Lori! I'd be the clown! Being a teacher n being rather silly at times I love to see that I have made a child smile! Lots of people including u n me haven't had the easiest of times (mine more physical tho, not on the same scale!), I want to make children n adults alike laugh if only for a minute or second n forget about their problems no matter how big or small!
- December 12, 2011 at 3:16 pm
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I've just eaten a packet of Tarzan jubes so if that doesn't help me be a trapeze artist who swings like Tarzan….then I'll be the fat Lady of the Circus!
- December 12, 2011 at 1:29 pm
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I have always been in awe of the silk trapeeze artists.
Could you see me doing it?All that twirling looks like a lot of fun, and so graceful and beautiful.
Besides Mr Black would probably like it if I were that flexible?
- December 12, 2011 at 1:29 pm
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I have always been in awe of the silk trapeeze artists.
Could you see me doing it?All that twirling looks like a lot of fun, and so graceful and beautiful.
Besides Mr Black would probably like it if I were that flexible?
- December 12, 2011 at 1:20 pm
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I wanna be the one that does the knife throwing on someone on a spinning wheel, because I like danger, or maybe deal with dangerous animals, or maybe do a unicycle on a tight rope. I'm conflicted.
- December 12, 2011 at 11:34 pm
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Shoot me out of a cannon any day. Into a bunch of clowns with squeaky red noses so it makes lots of noise. Add some braying donkeys for extra mayhem. Maybe an elephant. And a monkey in a red hat.
- December 12, 2011 at 11:58 am
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I'd love to be an acrobat – with all the grace and courage I lack in my regular life
- December 12, 2011 at 11:49 am
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I'd be the chick in a tutu riding a beautiful white horse and doing tricks, they always seemed to have such fun doing that in Enid Blyton books, and really, who can argue with a tutu???
- December 12, 2011 at 11:32 am
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I'd be the bearded lady (thanks to my PCOS) in the sideshow alley – people would come and marvel at my hairy face and I wouldn't feel so out of place
- December 12, 2011 at 11:25 am
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Ok so I don't like heights, fast things, lions and horses scare me soooo I'm thinking the magicians assistant in a lovely sparkling dress.
- December 12, 2011 at 11:18 am
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I would be a lion tamer, between husband, kids & dog I am already qualified to tame just about anything, it would probably seem easy to be doing just one job!
- December 12, 2011 at 11:17 am
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If I was in a circus (just wait I have 3 kids I live in a circus) I would be in the trapeze because it rhymes with Louise.
We love Ikea here because it rhymes with Maria and Sofia.
Thanks for the competition.
regards
Louise taylormadecakes
- December 12, 2011 at 11:01 am
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Technically I don't live in Australia, but my eldest and my sister currently residing in Sydney, so I'm going to cheekily enter because we have no IKEA in New Zealand and that is tragic!!
I would be the white rabbit just popping out here and there!!!
- December 12, 2011 at 10:20 am
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I am so with you on loving Ikea. I live 1000 kilometres from the nearest one and it grieves me!
I would be the Shit Shoveller. I would never be out of work and if the circus had to close due to apathy or animal cruelty, I would go to Parliament house in Canberra where there is plenty of shit to shovel.
May your Guardian Angels be there for you and the children over Christmas and 2012. xo - December 12, 2011 at 9:20 pm
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Fortune Teller. In my own Gypsy/Carny van. I would be taking no shit from the midgets.
Stuff the big tent, side show ally is where the real action is.
x
lbc01@optusnet.com.au - December 12, 2011 at 10:03 am
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I would be the tight-rope walker. I have always loved to balance. When we lived in Queensland, I used to walk along the fence on the balcony 5 m off the ground (when my parents weren't watching). When we lived in Defence housing, I used to walk along the pipe on the top of our fence. Loved it!
- December 12, 2011 at 8:52 am
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I assume you mean Friday 16 December?
Anyway, if I could be in the circus I'd want to be one of the trick pony rider. Acrobatics and horseriding, bliss! Wonder if I could somehow manage a trapeze act in there somehow as well? Hmm, perhaps not the _pony_ on the trapeze though!
- December 12, 2011 at 8:38 am
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Under the Big Top
The jugglers wearing budgie smugglers/ on goes the show, but what people don't know/ Is that there in for a night, of tricks and fun/ There abs will hurt….. by the time that there done/ What a night, under the Big Top/ Kids get candy, and so-da pop/ First show, off we go/ It’s the midgets, little legs wont grow/ Watch them run, as they try to perform/ I swear I saw these guys, on some midget porn / Next comes the Ball of Death/ These guys must be high, riding on Meth/ Then the clowns….. silly as they are/ Driving around…… in a three wheeled car/ The Strong man….. is called to the stage/ Bending everything….. in a surly rage/ Then the climax….. of the night/ lights dim…. as they were way to bright/ The Dreamer is here….. and he steps ready to perform/ What a miracle…… that such a man was born/ His raps are so profound, and nothing but mystic/ You'd be bummed if u went out for candy and missed it/ His words ring trueness to everyone’s ears/ He can't hear himself…. over the cheers/ That’s it…. another show over for the week/ That’s good….. cause I can hardly speak. The Dreamer
So obviously in this I am the rapper…….. But conventional circuses don't often have a rapper, so I guess my second pick of who I would be in the Circus is the Jugglers wearing Budgie Smugglers!!! : )
- December 12, 2011 at 12:31 pm
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(Tania kind of beat me to it).
I'd be the bearded lady with a python around my neck have a little man with a goatee wearing tails as a side-kick. We read palms, tea leaves, minds and cards. My husband would be the strongman who chops wood. My kids would be working on an act with the elephants and tigers. and begging for a dancing bear from Santa.
Happy Christmas Lori! Cheers, Clare
- December 12, 2011 at 10:02 am
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I love IKEA! Id want to be one of those people that does dangerous things on a swing (if i was in a circus). My brains not working yet – have just woken up!
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Collectables. – RRSAHM
Collectables.
This post brought to you by Woolworths, and those new animal cards they’re giving out. You know the ones I mean.
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My son likes to collect things.
He is an ordered, organised little soul. He has a coin collection, a Trash Pack collection, and a massive collection of UNO cards.
And we now have an Aussie Animal card collection, complete with folder, as well. I know I’m not the only one whose kid is obsessed, right? Judging by what I’ve heard while picking the Bump up from kinder, and the response to this Instgram post, I’m most certainly not alone.
Anyway. I kind of got lucky with this one. Or unlucky, depending on how much collecting you can stand.
Woolworths sent me a gift voucher to take the kidlets shopping and pick up a set of their new collector cards. Shopping with small children, as we’ve previously established, is hell on earth. Having something to bribe them with was fabulous.
We did an epic shopping trip in order to collect as many Aussie Animals cards as possible. You get a four pack of cards for every $20 you spend and, because they like to be tricky, the card packs are effectively sealed. Which means there is no stuffing around, trying to convince the checkout chick to give you the ones you specifically want.
Our current favourite cards include the Common Bottle-Nosed Dolphin (the Bump has a serious thing for dolphins), the Red Back Spider (which my kids have finally learnt the proper name for, after years of calling it a ‘blacky red spider’), and the Corroboree Frog (my favourite- tiny little things are just so cute). We broke into cheers of celebration the other day upon filling one whole page in the album with cards. And for good reason. Showing your completed album at Taronga or Western Plains Zoo gets you one free admission.
This whole collectible card concept copped a bit of a bagging when it was announced, with people saying that kids ‘just weren’t into this kind of thing any more’. To be honest, I probably would have agreed. But it seems kids are loving them- so much so that Woolworths stores are holding card trading days and there’s a whole swap group on FaceBook. Who would’ve thunk?
Parents of obsessive children- brace yourselves. A whole new collectible is here.
Leave a Comment
{ 6 comments… read them below or add one }
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October 12, 2013 at 12:01 pm -
They love the cards don’t they
I’m in desperate need of a folder if you know of anyone with a spare they’d like to sell have 2 sad kiddies here because Mummy missed out on buying one 
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October 13, 2013 at 9:31 pm -
Hi Karen, I’m heading off to Woolies tomorrow- I’ll have a look and see if my local has any left over? xx
Lori Dwyer recently posted…Nailed It.
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October 14, 2013 at 7:04 pm -
Thanks so much Lori
- October 20, 2013 at 8:08 pm
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Hey Karen- bad news
Can’t find them anywhere! But from what I’ve heard they are reprinting them and they’ll be back by December? xx
Lori Dwyer recently posted…Just For Fun.
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October 3, 2013 at 7:43 am -
My son – yes, and I! – are loving collecting the animal cards! He’s almost 4, and he loves to sit down with his album and look at the animals, talk about what they eat or where they live.
Luckily though we live in Dubbo and are Zoo Friends so we can go to the zoo for free anytime we like, regardless of a full album or not! -
October 2, 2013 at 9:39 am -
We are having worlds of trouble getting any of the cards from 1-10, the ones after that we are only missing a couple of in each page but page one? Practically blank. Bah. My Mum and I are keeping a list and call each other each time new cards appear to cross reference.
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Next post: All The Reasons Why.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Running Away Again.
It's that Toy Sale time of the year. – RRSAHM
It’s that Toy Sale time of the year.
This post is sponsored by Big W. In accordance with the No BS sponsored post policy– I accepted this one because I really, really enjoy being able to give away things like $100 gift vouchers. It makes me happy.
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In my head, I call the end of June ‘Toy Sale Time!’
It’s brilliant. The catalogues alone are like are mini-celebrations in awesomeness. Even before I had kids I loved Toy Sale catalogues. (I know, that’s weird. But I’m sure I’m not the only one).
Buying toys is fun. I don’t care how old you are. I just wish my daughter shared my taste in La La Loopsy dolls. She thinks they’re terrifying. I think they’re gorgeous.
When your kids are really little, toy purchases are easy. They like pretty much anything, especially if it’s shiny, colorful, or noisy. Preparing for Christmas and birthdays (all conveniently clumped together) was easy- I’d just buy bits and pieces over the year and hide them away until it was time for Santa to distribute them. But the older my kids become-especially my son, who’s five, turning thirty- the pickier they are. They know exactly what they want- it’s usually what everyone else has. And, as any parent knows, that guilt-inducing look of disappointment on a child’s face is… just…awful.
Which is where Toy Sale Time comes in. All the coveted goods, all on sale.
Big W gave me a gift voucher to spend in their Giant Toy Spectacular, which I happily accepted. I got online not long after the sale started and did my favorite kind of shopping- from my computer, without crowds or kids. Being smart, Big W opened their online toy sale on June 19th, while the instore sale runs from June 27th until July 10th,
The only problem with Toy Sale Time is the inherent fickle-ness of young children. What they want right now may not be what they want in six months time. So I’ve decided that Toy Sale Time is only for buying perennial, long-term favorites. Which, for the Bumpy thing, is always Barbie- dolphin trainer Barbie, this time. (I’m not sure that much Barbie-love is healthy… but we’ll talk about that in another post, at another time).
For the Chop, it’s Skylanders. He loves Skylanders. Actually, make that we love Skylanders; because I’ve never met a video game I didn’t get into. I’ll even confess to being so into it I’ll take my personal favorite Skylander- Cinders the dragon, in a witches hat- and play once the kids are in bed, completing particularly tricky spots and levels and upping my skill level. (Again, not sure. Does that makes me a bad mum… or a good one?)
Talking toy sales on Twitter a few days ago, I confessed that I’m not much of a layby-er. I think standing in too many long lines with my mum and grandmother when I was a kid put me off layby’s altogether.
And it seems I’m almost alone in that. The general Twitter consensus was that layby- especially six month toy sale layby– is awesome. You can pay it off as you go. You can return things that have gone out of fashion by the time Christmas rolls around. And the layby desk makes the perfect hiding place for presents you don’t want the kids to discover.
So- a kind of survey, if you will. Combined with the splashing around of gratuitous Big W Wish gift cards. There is five of them to be won, worth $100 each, to be used online or instore.
I want to know- are you a layby kinda person? How do you manage Christmas with kids? Do you hit the toy sales, buy little bits all year round, or hit the shops two weeks before the big day?
Fill in the form below to win- I’ll correlate the results and publish them, anonymously, sometime after the giveaway closes. The closing date, by the way, is midnight AEST Friday 28th June; and the winners will be drawn and contacted by email soon after. You gotta have a valid email address to go with your entry, mmmkay?
This one’s open to Australian residents only (sorry, sorry, sorry, OS readers). The answers that tickle my pickle at the time of the comp being drawn win. No bitching, whinging, nor circle-jerking shall be entered into.
Astound me with your financial prowess, jellybeans. And happy toy shopping!
No form? Try clicking here instead.
Leave a Comment
{ 10 comments… read them below or add one }
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June 30, 2013 at 10:32 pm -
I buy gift cards throughout the year whenever I do the groceries, and then closer to Christmas I start cashing them in and using the grocery money saved to buy presents.
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June 27, 2013 at 9:56 am -
I start Christmas shopping around October and take my time enjoying picking out the pressies.
Sometimes, I’ll get the toys during sale times. -
June 26, 2013 at 2:35 pm -
In the current financial climate I prefer to layby, its easy to start early and buy things layby them and pick them up when you can afford to. I have 8 grandkids so laybying is soo much easier to cope with.
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June 26, 2013 at 9:05 am -
With 5 kids-layby was a way of life.july sales/no deposit layby is what got my xmas sorted!!
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June 24, 2013 at 5:05 pm -
The link for the T&C’s just takes me back to this blog post.
- June 25, 2013 at 11:37 am
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Hey Tam, it’s supposed to
T and c’s are contained in the post- that link is more in case people come across the entry form separate to the post. Sorry for the confusion! x
Lori Dwyer recently posted…The Right Way To Do This.
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June 23, 2013 at 10:50 pm -
Great giveaway – will definitely make five families very happy.:)
- June 25, 2013 at 11:38 am
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Thanks sapna
I love doing giveaways like this- I know how awesome it is to win something like this!
Lori Dwyer recently posted…The Right Way To Do This.
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June 21, 2013 at 2:18 pm -
and the problem of the toy sale for me is i always get the info about it late, so all of the toys that i want to buy is always sold out!
Julia Shanon recently posted…Top 4 Objectives of an Advertisement Campaign
- June 25, 2013 at 11:39 am
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Amen to that!
Lori Dwyer recently posted…The Right Way To Do This.
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Previous post: Being A School-Mum Is Quite Involved And Kind Of Annoying.
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Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Fuck You Too.
The Bump's Bumpy Seal of Approval. – RRSAHM
The Bump’s Bumpy Seal of Approval.
Stir, stir, stir the soup,
OK. Straight off, this one’s sponsored by Nuffnang. Whom I love. Because they totally justify the amount of time I spend on my PC.
Before I begin, I feel the need to qualify something here. Having spent a few years in the midst of a parenting forum, I know that there are a lot of mother’s out there who don’t go on the plastic fantastic toys. Their kids only play with wood, or felt, and only educational play things made by one legged yaks living in the foothills on the Himalayas.
I am not one of those mothers.
I think, maybe, I had planned to be one of those mothers, way back in the BC. But it certainly didn’t work out that way. My kids and I, we love Mr Fisher Price. And all his plastic fantastic, singing, light up toys.
So, when Nuffnang asked me if I wanted to review the new Fisher Price Laugh & Learn Learning Kitchen, for kidlets aged 12-36 months, I said “Oh my, yes, please!”.
And I got it the very next day. The courier came at 8am. I was still in my pajamas. He didn’t seem to mind. With the Chop and the Man out for the day, the Bump and I happily ripped into our package.
And the Bump, at fifteen months old, has a new favourite toy. And so do I.
The Learning Kitchen is total awesomeness. The Bump is a fiddly kinda kid- she loves compartments and buttons and drawers and putting things in boxes and what not. And the Learning Kitchen has so many bits and pieces, she was entertained for hours.
Two lights, a fridge and oven door that open, a kitchen tidy bin, different shaped slots for the tiny milk, carrots and apple juice (or apple sauce? We’re not quite sure which…) that comes with it. A stove top with a saucepan that goes on it, and a spoon to go with. that A huge On/Off switch for the kitchen light. A sink and a tap that move. And all of those bits make noise.
Don’t panic. I know what you’re thinking. But Mr Fisher Price is totally onto you. The Learning Kitchen has three different settings. And 15 different songs. Fifteen. Instead of two. Mr Fisher Price has listened to the mums of Australia, it seems. No longer will we be driven batty by the repetition of one or two musical tunes.
Now, we have variety. Which means none of the songs actually repeat often enough to get stuck in your head. Bliss-ness.
For extra-super-bonus points, this kitchen toy is uni-sex. It’s not pink or purple, it’s not particularly girly. Boys could just as easily play with it as girls. Good work, Mr Fisher Price. Next to baby dolls that come with bottles, gender specific kitchen toys for toddlers are my most hated toy product. Even worse than plush Dorothy the Dinosaurs. Or something.
While I’m bitching and griping, it seems Mr Fisher Price has also fixed my other pet hate- ties and snaps and cut fingers and accidentally dropping the f-bomb in front of to the children and now look what you made me do. All the drama and pain that comes with overzealous packaging. Talking toddler toys used to take half a freaking hour to get out of the box. No more!! Now, the back of the box is perforated, and the product held in with little twisty cogs that are so easy to take off. (I should have taken a photo of that. Didn’t. Whatever.)
Bless you, Mr Fisher Price. You and I are going to get along just fine.
Stay.. away.. from..my… kitchen!!!
So. There you go. The Fisher Price Talking Learning Kitchen. It is total awesomeness. It’s suitable for kidlets aged 6-36 months. It has the Bump’s bumpy seal of approval. It’s provided me with hours of uninterrupted blogging time while the Bump fiddles and pushes and dances and grooves with her new kitchen.
Mr Fisher Price, and his Learning Kitchen. They both get a massively yummy five outta five jellybeans on the RRSAHM-ranking-stuff-scale.
Nom nom noms.
Leave a Comment
{ 10 comments… read them below or add one }
- December 18, 2010 at 1:41 am
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My wife and I were very much like you in the beginning, only educational toys made by fairtrade workers blah blah blah…
It didn't work out like that and we still have very intelligent kids.
Love that last picture!
- December 16, 2010 at 1:41 pm
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yes…… different songs! and 15 at that! Take that plastic toy phone… skip to my lou this.
Love it - December 15, 2010 at 10:23 pm
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What a fantastic toy!
What a pity I don't have any kids small enough for it.
I'd buy one in a heartbeat if I did. - December 15, 2010 at 7:45 pm
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I answer the courier in my towel. he loves it
- December 15, 2010 at 2:50 pm
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Wow, five outta five!
- December 15, 2010 at 11:00 am
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I love that last pic 'stay away from my kitchen!!' adorable!!
- December 15, 2010 at 8:21 am
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I was very glad to read this. We are getting Rose one of these for Christmas, and I am happy to see a good review on it.
First time visiting your blog, but defiantly will not be the last. - December 15, 2010 at 8:07 am
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Um. I want one for myself!!
Your little Bump is adorable by the way. - December 15, 2010 at 9:35 am
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Bubba would love that!
- December 15, 2010 at 8:05 am
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If the bump likes it, then it must be good! x
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Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Fuck You Too.
Search: label/RRSAHM ranking-stuff-scale
Search: label/RRSAHM ranking-stuff-scale
As we’ve discussed many times before, my kids have a thing for trains. Steam trains, in particular.
I consider it some kind of karmic punishment. I hated Thomas as a kid, probably only because my younger brother adored it. The old–school Thomas theme (before words and personalities and whatnot) carries with an unpleasant undertone of cranky sibling nostalgia. Even with that in mind, I’m still slightly suspicious of the Thomas and Friends revamp. With words in the theme song, and trains that have animated faces and each their own individual voices.
And, because I am old, I just really miss Ringo Starr.
Whatever. TV show and merchandise being mostly unrelated, anyway, I held no preconceived grudges against the Fisher Price Thomas Speed n Steam that was delivered to the TinyTrainHouse last weekend. And I’m grateful for that. Because when I say this is the coolest toy I have ever seen in my whole life, you might believe me.
And I mean that- really. This Thomas is truly awesome– everything you hated about remote controlled toys for little ones, Fisher Price has already thought of. And they’ve fixed it.
There’s no annoying, thin metal antennae to snap, bend and render the toy useless. Secondly, the controls are so, so simple. The green arrow goes forward. The blue button changes ’modes’, but only requires one press on it to make Thomas get all piston–happy and shoot off across the floor. The yellow arrow is, technically, ’reverse’– but not. The most frustrating thing for a three year old is attempting to manipulate an RC toy when the concept of a three point turn is many teenaged years away from them. So Thomas doesn’t just reverse, he also spins himself around, so he’s facing back the way he came from. Or any other other direction you like, really– he just keeps doing 360′s until you take your finger off the button.
So ridiculously simple. So damn ingenious.
Thomas Steam n Speed also, as his implies, blows real steam– but cool steam, not hot steam–from his smoke stack. Say what you will about children and imagination and so forth, I do, even from my fantastic plastic standpoint over here, totally get what you’re saying. But the reason Thomas is so very cool is that he’s a steam train. And, unless you happen to live in the TinyTrainTown, you just don’t see them all that often. Filling up his tiny water tank seems to last a very long time, even with only ten ml’s of water in it; and is super easy thanks to the little plastic dropper provided which actually tucks into a compartment underneath Thomas, so it won’t get lost in that draw of batteries, phone cords, paper clips, pens and other junk that I know you have somewhere at home. Because everyone has one. I call it the Basket of Doom. Speaking of, Thomas takes four AA batteries… consider yourself forewarned, and therefore forearmed.
Anyway. The Thomas Speed n Steam is, completely honestly, one of the most awesome battery–powered toys for little kids that I’ve monopolised away from my children. And, of course, the Chop and the Bump love it, too– I can tell by the way they are prepared to fight one another to the death for possession of the remote control.
So this one gets an extraordinary five out five jellybeans on the RRSAHM Ranking Stuff Scale. Well done, Thomas, well done. Cinders and ashes, indeed.
So you can buy your very own Thomas Speed n Speed, I’ve got a $100 Toys’R’Us voucher up for grabs. Fill in the form below and tell me- do you groove on the new, animated Thomas; or are you more of a traditionalist Thomas fan?
25 words or less-ish, please, and Australian residents only (again, I know, I know…). This one opens Monday 17th November and closes midnight Wednesday 19th Novemeber AEST. You can find the T’s and C’s right here.
{ 7 comments }
Heya, I’ve blogged many times before about the way children’s TV has the inherent ability to drive parents absolutely insane.
Especially the Wiggles, bless their colored skivvies. I dream in Wiggle some nights.
But… the things we do for our kids. When I got a press release not long back stating that the first ever Little Charlie Bear DVD was being released in Australia on September 14th, I well and truly took the bait.
The Chop, at three and a half, adores this show. He sings the theme song. He sits, transfixed, watching Charley Bear (“No mum!! It’s Little Charley Bear!!” OK, kid….) tap dance and talk to the moon. And I can totally live this. There’s no annoying techno dance music, no hardcore issues. This is pleasant kids TV, pure and simple. And the narrator, James Cordon, just has a voice to die for- calming but expressive.
It’s not quite as addictive or cute as Small Potatoes- featured here at Glow’s place– but Charley Bear is a winner. I asked the Chop how many jellybeans he would give it on the RRSAHM-Ranking-Stuff Scale and he said…
“Mummy, I want to eat the jellybeans.”
Which is a fair call. So I’m giving Little Charley Bear at 4 out of 5 jellybeans on the RRSAHM-Ranking-Stuff-Scale.
And because I like to give stuff away…. I’ve got three packs featuring the new Charley Bear DVD and a gorgeous plush Charley Bear Fun Sounds toy. To win…
Leave a comment letting me know which kid’s TV show tortures you the most.
Make sure you leave a valid email address with your comment.
Aussie residents only, sorry OSer’s…
Winners will be drawn at Random at 8pm on the 16th September, contacted by email and announced via RRSAHM’s Twitter and FaceBook account.
Winners have 48 hours to respond to their winning email, or the prize will be redrawn.
Awesome saucesome. Your time starts… now.
{ 47 comments }
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: RUOK?
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Milk
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Jeans and Stuff.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Giant.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Is it a bird? Is it a plane..? No, it’s Emma’s Brain!!
Search: label/muse wars
Search: label/muse wars
It’s been quite a while since we’ve played The Muse Wars… returning this month by special request. Let’s get creative.
If you haven’t played before, The Muse Wars is just for fun- it’s a creative writing prompt. You can write whatever you like. Take inspiration from the picture below…
You’ve got almost a whole month to publish your story, poem, essay, memorandum… whatever. This linky list closes March 31st.
Muse Wars- Round Five
The Muse Wars- Round Five
The object of the game is- write a piece of fiction (poetry, short story, song, shopping list, whatever) taking your inspiration from the picture above. (Feel free to copy and paste it into your post.)
The experts say modern attention spans last 1000 words, maximum (keep that in mind). Past experience has taught us that it’s easier to play the game if you don’t read other people’s stories first- but the choice is yours.
Publish your piece, return to this post and add your link to list below.
The linky list is open from now until the last day of March.
Share the love- read other entries, leave a comment, be nice. If you like, you can have the entire linky list on your blog too.
If you don’t have a blog, you can certainly still play! Feel free to email me if you have something to publish but nowhere to put it. And please don’t be shy- email me if you need help with any of the techy stuff.
Anyone can play The Muse Wars and all entries are welcome.
Your time starts… now.
{ 2 comments }
If you haven’t come across it before, the Muse Wars is a flash fiction, short story game we play for fun. Your mission- take the image below and write something, anything. Publish and submit your link below.
Too easy.
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| This month’s photo inspiration thanks to the awesome Woah, Molly!– cheers. |
***
Round Four– Run
When her mind became too cluttered with things and thoughts and sounds and smells and she began to feel as though she might burst… she ran.
In the sticky, fan–whirring humidity of her small bedroom, she changed out of her day clothes, smudged with dirt or flour or biscuit dough, into a pair of short shorts and an over-sized, faded t-shirt. Long, straight black hair was scraped from a sweaty neck and forehead, secured with a thick rubber band into a swishing ponytail that tickled the skin between her shoulder blades. She pulled on socks and, finally, strapped on runners, sleek and silver and walled with airy breathy nylon, with all the reverence they deserved– her prized possession, that she had cajoled and begged and cried and threw tantrums for; until her mother finally relented, on the condition that they be kept well hidden from her father’s eyes.
Sneaking past the lounge room where her dad executed his traditional afternoon snooze, postured in one of the worn, comfortable lounge chairs, head back, snoring squelchily; she barely paused to give the man- as reluctantly as her mind deemed to call him that- much thought at all. She might have been disgusted by him, the tilt of his head indicating arrogance even as he slept; but she wasn’t sure how to hate him, how to be angry at him. She regarded him in the same way he’d always viewed her– a nothing, a non–entity, an unfortunate inclusion into one’s life that should really be ignored if one can manage that.
He didn’t understand her at all, she knew that– literally and metaphorically… how could he, when they spoke two completely different languages?
His daughter had been the apple of his eye for her earliest of years, a cute chubby dark haired toddler he doted upon. It was only as she got grew and became that bit older that her father– her mother as well, of course, and her brother, but most especially her father– noticed that there was something.. well.. different about her. That she just wasn’t talking, verbalising the way other children of her age were. That she never responded to her name being called, nor to loud noises… unless that loud noise was accompanied by a tangible vibration.
He gave up on his daughter, and began pretending he’d felt that way all along, the day the doctors told him that his baby girl was deaf, and, in the traditional sense, mute. He looked at her… and he saw someone completely different to the daughter he’d seen before. Why.. all those times he thought he was telling his child his deepest secrets, spilling his soul to a little girl who stared, wide-eyed, back in return…she had been unable to hear him. Never mind that, at the age of just one or two, she would never have been able to understand him anyway. It felt, stupidly, like a betrayal of trust; and the irrationality and immaturity of that thought shamed him into turning away from his daughter- and this new language she was forming with her hands- almost entirely.
His wife (traitor!), she had learnt to speak with her hands too, fingers forming words and emotions and concepts at a pace that frightened him. His son, absorbing a new language the way only a child can, was again chatting and laughing with his older sister within weeks.
But her father remained silent, afraid, embarrassed and ashamed, much more of himself than of his daughter. The older she became, the longer they went without exchanging a word, and the more he withdrew… until, suddenly,one day, she was a stranger, and his anger at that made him treat her as a person less worthy of being here at all. He covered his pain with insults and slurs that she didn’t need to be able to hear to know exactly what was was being said. He kept her fed, allowed her medical attention and schooling and the things society required him to do… but outside of meeting basic moral expectations, she simply existed within the house. Luxuries were withheld from her. This ridiculous signed language was not to be spoken in the family home, he said. His authority was total, in that none of them spoke with their hands when he was about, in presence or eye–shot… but when he was absent, asleep or otherwise engaged; mother, brother and daughter whispered with their fingers, keeping their signing space small and slight so not to attract the father of the household’s attentions.
She crept past the sleeping, snoring man, regarding him without hate, because she wasn’t sure how to feel that way, how to conjure that emotion.
When things got much, when the words she wanted to say to her father begin to spin themselves from her hands without her permission… she crept out of the house. She tiptoed down the creaking front steps. She stopped for a moment, just a quick pause in time to take in the miles and acres, the seemingly unending red earth that stretched from the verandah of their house to the bow of the horizon in the distance… not a soul nor a building for miles.
When the thoughts user head got too loud… she ran.
‘);
{ 1 comment }
Welcome to the final Muse Wars for 2012- Round Four. Batter uuuupppp…
If you haven’t come across it before, the Muse Wars is a flash fiction, short story game we play for fun. Your mission- take the image below and write something, anything. Publish and submit your link below.
Too easy.
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The Muse Wars, Round Two- What You Need To Know
The object of the game is- write a piece of fiction (poetry, short story, song, shopping list, whatever) taking your inspiration from the picture above. (Feel free to copy and paste it into your post.)
The experts say modern attention spans last 1000 words, maximum (keep that in mind). Past experience has taught us that it’s easier to play the game if you don’t read other people’s stories first- but the choice is yours.
Publish your piece, return to this post and add your link to list below.
The linky list is open from now until Friday, 23rd of November; and if we have fun we’ll play this game with a new image every month.
Share the love– read other entries, leave a comment; grab the button below and paste it somewhere on your blog. If you like, you can have the entire linky list on your blog too.
If you don’t have a blog, you can certainly still play! Either email your story to me for publication on RRSAHM, or you can upload your story here, copy the link and add it the list. And please don’t be shy- email me if you need help with any of the techy stuff.
Anyone can play The Muse Wars and all entries are welcome.
‘);
If you’d like to add the linky list to your post, grab the code from here.
Cheers, jellybeans- my own short story coming soon…
{ 5 comments }
A Place To Be Heard. – RRSAHM
A Place To Be Heard.
Last Friday morning my mate Darrell and I, accompanied by moral supporter The Doc, attended the public submissions section of the government review into workplace bullying.
A hippy; a pierced potential anarchist dressed in varying levels of black and a guy in a suit walk into the nation’s most secure building… there’s no punchline. Just a plethora of security guards looking at you oddly and at least one lower secretariat who is very reluctant to give you directions to a private committee room located in the dark windowless centre of the House. It took twenty minutes just to get The Doc and his various bits of metal (piercings, belt buckle, lighter, jewelry, shoes… the list goes on) through the front doors.
I haven’t been to Parliament House since I was a child, and I’d forgotten the sheer extravagance of it. I remember thinking, at six years old, that the solid marble pillars in the main foyer were as big as small cars– I couldn’t stretch my arms around them and make my fingertips touch.
Twenty five years later and I’m amused to see those pillars are nowhere near as big as thought. I’ve grown into my country’s capital and walking past those massive monuments to wealth today, I feel nothing but an uneasy disgust. Solid marble and granite, polished woods and gleaming trimmings…
I spent five years working in public hospitals with peeling paint, tragically underpaid nurses and never nearly enough beds. I’ve watched office chairs used in place of wheelchairs. I’ve seen wards barter and borrow medical equipment that literally meant the difference between life and death.
And I stand here in a house of marble worth billions and wonder if, just maybe, our politicians taste a little bit of bile under their tongues, in that place where shame sits, every time they witness heels clack across this shiny floor, waxed to a perfection that mirrors their every step.
The first item on the agenda for today’s public hearing is a round-table discussion featuring not only Those Who Be In Charge but also a smatter of maybe twenty different organizations with some stake, say or opinion on the topic of bullying and harassment within Australian workplaces. They range from CommCare to psychologists to welfare agencies. While the discussion was interesting, I felt my frustration swell every time I heard the words ‘mediation and investigation’; and I wanted to stand and cheer and punch the air when someone finally got up and pointed out that meditation was essentially pointless if there was no issue to mediate… and that’s so often the case. As Darrell so succinctly put it, ‘ some people just need to stop being f*ckwits’. There were suggestions of jail terms for severe cases of workplace bullying, and the very logical suggestion that mental health should be included in HR assessments and be considered, in part, the responsibility of an employer as much as any other aspect of an employee’s health and safety. Someone also pointed out the anomaly in language and treatment when the terms ‘victim’ and ‘perpetrator’ are used, and the implied assumption of power and problems when ‘victims’ are routinely sent for psychiatric assessment as part of the mediation process while ‘bullies’ are not.
The Doc and I hung around until the discussion degenerated into the very crux of politics– money. How much bullying was costing other countries. How much it might cost our country. how much it would cost to assign someone in charge of fixing the problem. Percentages and facts and figures and blah blah blah blah blah. We slipped out quietly to catch up with Darrell… only to discover we’ve almost been sitting on top of him the whole time.
It stands to reason, really. The guy in the suit is allowed into the actual Committee Room itself to view the round–table, with all the other respectable people. The hippy and the anarchist are sent upstairs to view the whole thing from the press gallery. Probably where we couldn’t heckle the board or throw things at the speakers.
Even ordering a coffee proved an exercise in book-judging and covers and whatnot. The hippy and the anarchist, being the filthy smokers we are, request takeaway cardboard coffee cups. Denied. Why? The privilege of being allowed to carry a hot drink in the House is reserved for those who work there. For security purposes.
Which is all actually quite well and good. Especially considering we got our takeaway cups anyway. Guy in the suit interrupted the coffee cashier incredulously to tell her that we were with him, and he worked here. Potential weapon in form of hot liquid, procured.
Only problem being, of course, that Darrell- the guy in the suit- actually doesn’t work here. And nothing on his person– except the suit– indicates that he does.
Ah well. The three of us return to the committee room. Hot drinks discarded on the way. Just in case.
***
Attendance of the public submissions session indicates you agree to maintain the total confidentiality of the other speakers, and I certainly don’t intend to break that here.
But I’ll tell you what I can, what’s important. That Darrell spoke, and so did I. That I was in no way prepared for the sheer emotional magnitude of this. That the stories told, the strain in voices, the sound of sobbing echoing off the high grey chamber walls… this was heartbreak. Heartbreak and a sense of pallid, heavily breathing desperation and anger born of repeated dead ends, repeated disappointments from the governing bodies who were supposed to throw up the safeguard before it got this far.
Five minutes, members of the public were told in advance of this date. You will have five minutes to tell your personal story of workplace bullying and how it’s effected your life.
The closed and confidential section of the hearing where any member of the public could make a submission began forty minutes ahead of its scheduled time.
Which just added to the shock of being told that, instead of the five minutes people were promised, everyone here had only three minutes. Three minutes. Just over half the amount of time people had prepared for. When Those Who Be In Charge had forty minutes to their advantage anyway, and there couldn’t have been more than thirty people waiting, stressed and apprehensive, for their turn to speak.
A dull, disgruntled rumble trailed through the assorted crowd on the announcement of the time cut… the sound of whispered disillusion. But the people here are fighters, and they have long grown accustomed to the rules being changed, halfway through the game. And I watch as all of us– myself included– turn to our notes and reassess, reread and decide which paragraphs (none of them) are insignificant to leave out, when we squashed years worth of events into five minutes anyway.
Witnessing this feels akin to watching psychological warfare in action. Speaker after speaker is cut down, rushed through, the stories they’ve been waiting to tell for so long invalidated and not done justice. Tears roll silently down my face as a woman sobs uncontrollably, heartbroken, for a full twenty seconds. They don’t pause her time. They don’t give her back those precious few seconds to regain her composure. That annoying little silver bell rings right on two and a half minutes anyway… her tears have no effect on time.
I like
to think of myself as a story teller, and in that room I heard people recount tales of tragedy and heartache that were sobbing and begging to be told, having been held in static silence for far too long. The experience stays with both myself and The Doc, the memory of it unsettling and distressing at the oddest moments.
It feels like cruelty. It feel as though it was little but farce, lip service… giving people a chance to speak only to cut it short, deliberately cause them to lose their place and fumble their words.
Wherever possible, pain and hurt and anger are better expressed than not. I’m so accustomed to having this place to lay down my words each day that sometimes I forget others don’t have the same.
And if nothing else, everyone needs a space of their own.
To be continued….
Leave a Comment
{ 10 comments… read them below or add one }
- August 25, 2012 at 7:16 pm
- August 22, 2012 at 10:14 pm
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So glad you were there Lori. They need to hear your voice.
- August 22, 2012 at 8:21 pm
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I read this … and think this committee are "the bullies" themselves. That they forget their role., being the voices of their people, the great unheard.
Well done Darrell. Well-done Lori. Well done all others who went to tell their story.
- August 22, 2012 at 8:01 pm
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Good on you for standing up to be counted and for supporting where you can. X
- August 22, 2012 at 3:04 pm
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That's fucked. They probably didn't think anyone would show up and got scared.
What was their reason for cutting you off?? - August 22, 2012 at 2:05 pm
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What a terribly thing – five minutes then three to share the heartbreak of someones working life that becomes their whole life. I don't have words.
- August 22, 2012 at 10:28 am
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I agree with Meri. How terrible for everyone who spent so much time and energy and emotion getting ready
- August 22, 2012 at 10:26 am
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What Meri said, re: the time cut being akin to bullying itself.
I'm so sorry it was like this. And I'm so glad you've written about it, because people need to know so change can occur.
- August 22, 2012 at 9:14 am
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Argghhh!
That in itself is akin to bullying
* take the other side off guard,
* place the emphasis on who has the the control of the situation,
* use the power of being the one with the power.I know it wasnt the right time and appropriate situation (and that the person letting you know the timing had changed was "just" a public servant doing their job) but what if ….. the whole group of people asked to take 2 minutes off their time all stood together and said 'NO! you are ahead of schedule and we will take our alloted time!'
I get in trouble with my husband for wanting to stir the pot and stand up – and to be honest not always the right thing to do at a particular point in time….but arrrrhhhhh I do get irate at (what I perceive) the inbalance of power…
Right off my little soapbox…
- August 22, 2012 at 8:49 am
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Jeez…
I don't even know what to say. And they wonder where the stereotype of the heartless politician/bureaucrat comes from?
Previous post: Spring
Next post: A Voice To Speak.
1 +1 = 2 – RRSAHM
1 +1 = 2
I generally try not to pay too much attention to the world around me. The news is depressing and I have enough crap going on to deal with.
Nor do I generally bring the issues of the big wide world onto my blog, unless they directly concern me. And, aside from the direct implications of general stuff on mental health, not much does. Sad, but true.
But this time, it’s different. I would say ‘this time, it’s personal’, which would be much more dramatic, but patently untrue. It’s not personal, really. It has nothing to do with me.
But my God, it makes me angry. And if I have a voice here, then let me use it.
For those of you who are not in Australia, there has been a fair bit of kerfuffle here lately concerning gay marriage. It’s illegal in this country. On Saturday there was a big, beautiful rally in Sydney where over 5 000 people- gay and straight, every nationality and walk of life- protested the basic right for everyone, regardless of their sexual preference, to be able to show their love to world, legally.
How stupid. How distasteful and disappointing and dumb. The fact that over 5 000 people have to protest to get any kind of result here makes me sick. What is wrong with our government? Why is this even a debate at all??
Love is love. Why isn’t that the end of the story?
1 + 1=2, every time. Two consenting adults, expected to pay taxes, be functioning members of society, be responsible and obey the law… and yet we tell people, as if they’re children, that they can’t have a piece of paper and a ceremony that joins them in the eyes of the society they have to follow the rules of??
What kind of logic is that?
I’m not even going anywhere near the religious aspects of this one. Because it’s irrelevant… the Big Man and I are at a standoff, anyway. Many people- myself included- get married with no mention of the G-word.
The most infuriating, frustrating, distressing part of this whole thing is that those 5 000 people came out in a direct response to a smaller rally protesting against gay marriage. That’s sad.
There are people out there who will, quite literally, take time out of their day to protest against love. To stand and yell and make signs to outlaw people legally loving each other.
How stupid. How sad. What a fucking travesty, that some people have nothing better to do, then protest against the very thing that makes the world turn.
Leave a Comment
{ 31 comments… read them below or add one }
- June 30, 2012 at 9:32 am
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I agre with you 100%. I think it is terrible that people have to fight so hard for something that should just be seen as a human right.
I respect that marriage has had its origins in the church but it has moved beyond that. The case that the current definition of marriage is based Hyde v Hyde 1866 – Lord Penzance (… and no I am not making this up. It is not something out of Gilbert and Sullivan) did not recognise the marriage as it was not a christian marriage. I think on this point alone we can see that marriage has evolved and moved on. I think that alost 150 years later we need to make the next step.
- June 29, 2012 at 10:29 am
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I whole-heartedly agree Lori. The whole thing is baffling. Let's just legalise and let everyone share the love. It's as absurd as inter-racial marriage being illegal back in the day. Thanks for linking-up x
- December 13, 2011 at 7:05 am
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This genuinely mystifies me! Gay marriage, straight marriage, who cares?!
- December 8, 2011 at 2:05 pm
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Marriage already goes on between atheists, fools, non believers, semi believers, it happens outside churches, in casinos, on boats, in the air, for crying out loud – there is no sanctity of marriage held by Christianity – good and bad people do it,people do it for many reasons that have nothing to do with religion. Why shouldn't gay people be allowed? I know no happier couple than my sister and her girlfriend and can't believe these old fashioned laws exist.
- December 8, 2011 at 10:22 am
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Firstly can I say well done guys for keeping this respectful.
Enlightened-one – I'm anonymous 1 lol – sorry I don't have link, my name is Chris. I've studied theology at uni and interestingly enough when you see references to the English translated word "homosexual" it's root meaning in both Greek and Hebrew is actually "male pedophile" – so not exactly the same way we mean it.
Historically at that time as well in the Corinthian church, pagan influences affected the Christian church so the writings were clarifying acceptable practices for Christians of that time. Paul's letters to the Corinthians are the most detailed rules in the bible regarding the church and it's teachings BUT we need to remember the audience it was directed to and under which context.
That said, I get that most gay couples would prefer a civil ceremony outside of the church – but I then have to wonder why a "civil union marriage" isn't good enough? Can't they have commitment ceremonies presently? Name changes can take place by de poll – so if it's a commitment they want to make in front of loved ones, and they want a piece of paper and a name change – well that's all available now. I have to then come back to wondering why push for the current laws to change?
And yes, marriage was born in Christianity and later held it's purpose with state as a means of a census for families. But it is still originated in Christianity!! Homosexual references in the bible aren't what we think as homosexuality. Jesus was saying that predator behavior towards young boys was evil and those people are criminal in the eyes of God. The bible however is very clear that marriage is between man and wife
I feel it's very important to clarify that homosexual people wouldn't be automatically excluded from a life with God. It just means their union isn't recognized by a church. So my stance is it shouldn't happen. I do believe that a civil union is fine! I can't see why this needs to be debated really – homosexual couples are given all the samerights as heterosexual couples – even down to being able to partake in commitment ceremonies and have access to de poll for name changes. Leave marriage in the church where it started.
Sorry for any spelling mistakes or bits that don't make sense – this was post from my iphone
- December 8, 2011 at 7:29 am
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If I'm honest, up until a couple of days ago, I was one of those 'against' gay marriage. I didn't know why, but I just felt like it went against what I believed. I am not a practising christian, but I was brought up in the Christian faith.
So after not being able to pinpoint the basis for my objections, I did some research into the history of marriage. From my limited understanding, the roots of marriage arose from Christianity, but then there was a point where it was registered for government/legal purposes – there was now a 'religious' part and a 'civil' part (the signing of the register) of the ceremony.
This changed my view entirely.
I think my objection, and possibly the objection of many others, is that it felt as if the government was trying to change the 'religious' aspect of marriage, but I now realise this is not the case. I have always believed that gay couples should have equal rights, it was just the use of the term 'marriage' that I fought against (to me, it felt as if it was undermining the sanctity of my religious marriage), but after my research into the history and origins of marriage, I'm fully in support. ALL couples should have the freedom to declare their love and commitment to eachother in marriage.
I understand that this reasoning may not be the same for anyone else, but I would hazard a guess to say that a lot of the opposition to gay marriage is based on 'feelings' and ignorance rather than fact, as it clearly was for me.
P.s. I apologise if I have offended anyone with what I have written, but I thought it may be helpful to get a view from the 'other side'. I don't consider myself judgemental against homosexual couples (some of my closest friends and family are in homosexual relationships), but there was always unease for me when considering the prospect of legalising marriage for homosexual couples. I'm happy to admit now, that I was wrong.
- December 8, 2011 at 5:27 am
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- December 8, 2011 at 5:25 am
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- December 8, 2011 at 4:29 am
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Ignorance loves company is the only way to acknowledge their disgusting view on how others should live their lives. Who are they to say who can love who? And people that say it is a learned behavior and that no one is born gay. Idiots!! Boy do I love Lady Gaga for her beliefs and her amazing born this way song. It means things for people on all levels, not just their personal preferences. I have a 4 y/o daughter and although we haven't encountered any kids with same sex parents (wish we would have by now) I tell her that girls can loves girls, etc, etc. And that it is okay. And "normal". Whatever normal is. But I want it in her head that anyone can do whatever they want to. I want her to be a leader and stand up for other kids if they are being made fun of for being gay, having gay parents, or whatever the situation may be. These people at that rally, they are ADULT BULLIES. That is what they are!!! Lisa
- December 7, 2011 at 10:39 pm
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It's always risky to blog about politics, especially something as heated as gay marriage – way to go, Lori – to stand up for something you believe in.
Love, love, love that guy with the corduroy skirt sign – that is epic. - December 7, 2011 at 9:31 pm
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I totally agree Lori – I can't believe that it's still up for bloody debate!!
- December 7, 2011 at 9:20 pm
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Well said Lori! Love is love.
- December 7, 2011 at 8:15 pm
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Hmmmmmmmmm, Anonymous………
Who said they would get married through the church? I am sure there would be few gay couples who would want to partake in the act of marriage with in the religious confines of the church!!!!
With such versus from the bible as
1."homosexual offenders" among "the wicked" (1 Corinthians 6:9).2."homosexual offenders" among those who He determines will "not inherit the kingdom of God" (1 Corinthians 6:9).
3. Historically, homosexuality has incurred God's destructive wrath upon an entire city (Gen. 19:4-5, 11-13).
4. God's word defines the men of Sodom as "sinning greatly" because of their men having sex with men (Genesis 13:13; 19:5).
5. God calls Sodom's sin "sexual perversion" (Jude 1:7). Societies that remain in perversion (Sodom, Rome…) are on the road to destruction.
6. God's word identifies husband-wife relations as "natural relations" and homosexual relations as "unnatural ones" (Romans 1:26-27) and "perversion" (vs. 27).
7. God's word also rebukes those who "approve of those who practice" homosexuality (Romans 1:32).
8. Jesus settled the marriage issue once for all, declaring that God had made them "male and female … a man … [and] his wife" (Matthew 19:4-5).
I agree, gay couples should not be able to get married in a Church….. But why would they? If you say Anonymous, that u r happy for Gay couples to have every other right other than marriage? It's like a teaser! Segregation! We are but one, and all our indifference's should be celebrated, for as if we were all the same, the world would be dull, boring, tasteless…… Bland! There would be no imagination! No new creation, our world would not be worth living! Hahaha so dramatic I am! - December 7, 2011 at 5:41 pm
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Marriage began in the Christian church as a union between man and wife. Government aside, whether you choose to marry for religion or other the fact remains you are partaking in a ceremony and union which is primarily a religious thing.
While I have no issue whatsoever with gay couples getting every single benefit any other human is entitled to – asking the church to grant this union to gay couples is wrong. Why should the church change what's their doctrine of more than 2000 years? You can't say that legalizing gay marriage means churches can refuse to marry them because can you imagine the next saga of debate?
Leave it as is I say – bewteen man and woman. Gay couples are recognized in every other way socially and legally – but I say leave the sanctity within the church.
- December 7, 2011 at 4:02 pm
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AMEN Lori!
- December 7, 2011 at 3:11 pm
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It infuriates me that I even have to "support" this issue. What issue? It's two consenting adults in love. So what? Move on! If they want to get married, let them. I've marched in rallies & signed petitions & each time I do I get a little bit more angry that this is even an issue.
Nobody gets a say on who I choose to love, because it's a man but if it were a woman, suddenly I need to wait for the government to decide if that love is OK.
Lori, you made a very good point when you said "Many people- myself included- get married with no mention of the G-word." If that is allowed, and is of course still recognised as a marriage, why can't two people of the same sex do the same thing? xx
STUPID WORLD!!! BE BETTER!!! - December 7, 2011 at 1:47 pm
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I am loving seeing all the posts in support of this.
The whole thing makes me so angry, and I am so confused as to why it is an issue in the first place, and how people could possibly be against it, that I cannot even begin to write about the situation. I get too mad, and let off far too many f-bombs which really aren't going to get me anywhere.
Maybe what we need to do is get our good ol' bogan PM roaring drunk on some VB's and get her to sign off on it?
I bet she'd feel right at home in Campbelltown. - December 7, 2011 at 1:40 pm
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Ha your dead on Toni!
The bible says not to judge your brother, as it is only for God to judge.
Tupac says it best……….."Only God Can Judge Me"
(feat. Rappin 4-Tay)Only God can judge me, is that right?
Only God can judge me now
Only God baby, nobody else, nobody else
All you other motherfuckers get out my business - December 7, 2011 at 1:31 pm
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Wow, read these statistic's, no wonder we are controlled by 'The Church'. When will people come to there sense's(no pun intended)? Arrrr you frustrate me Australia! Where are all these people? Everyone I meet, is either spiritual or an atheist! Is the census rigged? Or is it overwhelmed by an aging population? Get with the times Australia!!!!!!!!!!!
In the 21st century, religion in Australia is demographically dominated by Christianity, with 64% of the population claiming at least nominal adherence to the Christian faith as of 2007, although less than a quarter of those attend church weekly.[2] 18.7% of Australians declared "no-religion" on the 2006 Census with a further 11.2% failing to answer the question.[2][3] The remaining population is a diverse group that includes Islamic and Buddhist communities.[4] - December 8, 2011 at 12:06 am
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Abso fucking lutely.
x - December 7, 2011 at 10:37 am
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Well said!
I am so pround to live in New Zealand. Here we recognises gay 'marrage' although they call it a civil union.
- December 7, 2011 at 8:58 am
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I believe in equal rights for gays, especially as they are treated by the tax department, just as those in a heterosexual relationship, although I don't believe in the whole sanctity of marriage it's self, as I believe it is a form of ownership over another, scared that, that person will escape u and leave u stranded all alone, if a ring or ball and chain is not fixed to hold them down. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against those who choose to get married, as I have gone down that road and do not regret getting married one bit. As I have grown, I have found that my views have changed and I believe in two individuals, sharing in life, becoming one, but then to escape and be free to enjoy the inner peace in ones self, thus keeping the vitality and individuality of the relationship alive, rather than it becoming all about 'the relationship'.
As for religion……..
Marriage is celebrated in all kinds of shapes and forms, cultures and religions, so for the Catholic Church or any Church for that matter, to have such a hold over a countries freedom to love one another is truly preposterous! - December 7, 2011 at 8:50 am
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I also feel the frustration well up inside me when i see this. The worst i think is the "slippery slope" argument where opposers declare that if we allow gay marriage what will come next? They lump people in love together with some very sick individuals.
Your point is so right. This is just love, people in love wanting to declare it to the world & have the same rights.
- December 7, 2011 at 8:48 am
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There's a constant battle in the States over Gay Marriage as well. In addition, the battle gets even more political in the debate over state's rights versus federal rights. Some states have legalized gay marriage. Some cities have legalized it, then to get it shot down by the state. There are discussions that the federal government should make laws against it.
Then there's the debate of separation of the Church and the State (state as in government in general).
But no matter how you look at the issue it's still boils down to one thing. The government make laws about what is ultimately a moral issue. When the gvt starts doing that, things get way more heated and unnecessarily crazy.
Someone else's sexual preference does not physically hurt me or my property. therefore I don't see why the gvt has any say.
I'm right there with you, lady!
- December 7, 2011 at 8:42 am
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My daughter's rocking a very cool corduroy skirt this week, with mushrooms and spotty apples, don't knock the corduroy!
- December 7, 2011 at 8:41 am
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You lead a very small life when you worry about who is loving each other! Oh no, look at that, two boys smiling happily together, save us. There are a few heterosexual relationships I would protest about, but the homosexual ones near me are actually lovely, my sister's girlfriend is awesome.
- December 7, 2011 at 8:27 am
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As a Christian I believe in the sanctity of marriage between a man and woman in the eyes of god and think the church would be hypocritical to support any thing else. However, I also believe that gay people have the absolute right to declare their love publically, openly and with the same legal rights as those married in any way that is recognised by law. Gay people also have the right to our respect and common decency. Corduroy skirts however leave me slightly unsettled and wondering if that chap may have a point.
- December 7, 2011 at 8:23 am
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You are right to be pissed, Lori! We have the same insanity going on over here in USA. I agree with you – I think the world needs all the love it can get, in whatever form it may come.
- December 7, 2011 at 8:19 am
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Amen
- December 7, 2011 at 12:26 pm
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I used to be in a homophobic church, and the attitude was one of the reasons I left.
IF They're right, and gay married people will go to hell, then why does that bother Them? It's not Them that would suffer, so what business is it of Theirs?
I don't get it.
Also, They're saying that if gay people are allowed to marry, it opens the door to polygamy — HOW???
Can you not make a law that says ONLY ONE SPOUSE AT A TIME?
One of my BFs is gay, and it wouldn't hurt me, or my own marriage, one jot if she were to marry. - December 7, 2011 at 11:56 am
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Amen, sister!
And btw, am I missing something with the corduroy skirts issue? Do people actually give a crap if someone wears a corduroy skirt?
I don't get it.
Previous post: And So This Is Christmas- Part Two
Next post: An Onion Life.
chop
chop
Softly, softly, softly. That’s how we do it here, every day, for now.
I watch my children adapt and warm to living with a new person in our lives. I watch with amazement as they take things in their stride, as they assess what goes on here and assimilate it into their tiny frames of what life is like.
As those of you who’ve done this before me know, introducing a new parental figure to the family mix is done with care and trepidation, and a definitive sense of not pushing things too far.
Softly, softly.
Small invitations to intimacy are made. The Most Amazing Man offers the Chop a hug before bed, and he responds with his arms wide open. I see the hesitation more with my son than with my daughter. My Chop is hesitant to trust too much, to get too close. He remembers what it’s like to be left behind.
“I will leave you!” The Most Amazing Man says to me, taunting and joking, and I poke my tongue out in response.
Neither of us realised my son had heard that exchange, until his head pops up with shock and he asks “What? What did you say?”
“Joking, baby. We were joking, I promise. The Most Amazing Man is not going anywhere.”
Everything is done in tiny pieces, tiny increments of trust and discipline. Tiny offerings- a hug, a bedtime story, a family day out. All those ‘normal’ things you do with a dad, that my children have been missing for years.
Softly, softly. One tiny baby step at a time.
{ 2 comments }
I’m a little bit in love with the suburb we’re living in. It feels like all neighbourhood-like. We’re at the point where I’m singing Sesame Street melodies in my head whenever I leave the house on foot.
It’s just nice here. People are friendly. I smile and nod hello to everyone I pass. Old men say “Good morning Bella!” to my daughter as she cruises past them on her way to daycare (which is called ‘kindergarten’ in Victoria, I’ve discovered. And what was kindergarten is now called ‘Prep’. Colour me confused).
Walking to school, Melbourne-style. Which translates to ‘with an umbrella’.
This area is filled with young parents, and there’s that aura that is everywhere in Melbourne– we’re all in this together- and most strangers are defaulted with trust rather than suspicion. My son takes a spill on his bike, riding 10 metres ahead of me, and another mum picks him up and dusts him off. I find myself doing the same thing for a little boy who’s fallen from his scooter. And the cycle continues.
We’re within a healthy walking distance from main roads and trams. Tiny corner shops- bakeries, milk bars, the odd bizarrely placed speciality store- dot the streets surrounding us. My car hasn’t left the driveway in days and I’m saving a fortune on petrol alone.
I’m also healthier, and feeling it, after just two weeks of this new, suburb-specific lifestyle. So are my children. They’ve taken to riding their bikes to school and kindergarten every day while I keep up a brisk pace beside them. The majority of food in our house is healthy and simple, and the Most Amazing Man ensures I eat a proper meal every night. I’ve given up Coca-Cola (it’s day four. My head hurts.) and I’m drinking water instead.
I soak up the aesthetics of where we are living. Houses in this area of Melbourne all seem to have the same basic structure. High ceilings. Wooden floors. Ancient light switches and electricity meters. Ducted heating and oddly-shaped backyards. Despite their sameness, they’ve all been here long enough to be quirky and inherently different, with years of lives lived, and changes made, tacked onto them like their typical two room extensions.
I love walking around, soaking up the goings-on around me. There were a lot of shops along these roads once, it seems, small boxes with a house behind. And so many of their new owners here have incorporated both the shop and the house as a living space, designed around it rather than tearing it down. The concrete storefronts have become the back ends of houses, or airy front entrances hollowed out with a garden hidden between the front walls.
Clothes by Babytakesatrip.com.au. Not sponsored- I just adore them.
And the flowers. There are flowers everywhere here. People’s gardens are magnificent and diverse. Veggies grow in small front yards, daisies and roses are planted on nature strips. On the days the Bump and I walk to her kindergarten, we stop and admire everything in bloom, and I pass on to her what my Gran taught me. “These are hibiscus. These are geraniums.” And lilies and paper daisies and lavender and jonquils.
It’s difficult to miss the TinyTrainTown when I take full advantage of being where I am right now. I love it here. It’s all tiny lane-ways lined with blue stone, happy people and urban farmer’s markets. It’s diversity and it’s acceptance and it’s Melbourne.
This place, it speaks to something in my soul.
{ 16 comments }
My kids and I celebrate Father’s Day for the first time in three years. We acknowledge the day, do something for it. There’s an excited exchange of presents first thing in the morning, a family dinner in the evening.
It’s bizarrely unexpected, by The Most Amazing Man and myself. I had thought-as had he- that this would be a quiet day; one we slid into and bumped out of, glad that it was over.
But my children, to my continual surprise and amazement, have other ideas.
It’s not something I’ve ever mentioned to them, and certainly not something I’ve pushed for. But my son’s flawless five year old logic kicks in when making Father’s Day gifts at school. “I can give this to the Most Amazing Man.” He tells me matter of factly. “Because we are living with him now, so he’s kind of like our dad.”
I can’t argue with that. I don’t even want to.
The Bump is easily swayed by her brother’s opinions. Once his actions give her the green light, she becomes an accomplice to the celebrations. We start a small pile of school-made cards, hidden in a kitchen drawer, and they grow exponentially as the weekend grows closer.
Sunday morning is a flurry of cards and presents, of over-excited children. It’s a whole new experience for the The Most Amazing Man.
It’s entirely lovely, completely gratifying. Watching everything fall into its place… right now, it feels too good to be true.
***
Sunday lunchtime, The Most Amazing Man mows the back lawns of The New House. The grass is thick kikuyu, and it’s easier to just remove the catcher from the lawn mower completely, rather than emptying it every two minutes.
As a result, there are grass clippings flying through the air, catching and swirling in the breeze.
The Chop and the Bump think it’s marvellous- a snow storm of grass, a fairy world to dance in.
The Bump giggles uncontrollably. “Most Amazing Man!” she laughs. “Just look at what you are doing to our world!!”
That seems to be the most fitting statement, for all of it.
Most Amazing Man… just look at what you are doing, to our world.
{ 22 comments }
Ugly.
Ugly.
Heya,
A few things, before we start.
Firstly, thank you. Any other words escapes me. I can’t eloquently express the gratitude I’m feeling toward my fellow blogger and Interwebbers at the moment. Every message, every email, every comment… they warm my heart. You guys are just… awesome.
Second, a few people have emailed me regarding advertising on my blog. I’ll get back to you soon as possible, promise.
And thirdly, this post is called ‘Ugly’ for a reason. This is real. This is serious. This is suicide. If you, like me, have that wretched thing called clinical trauma, this might be triggering.
But, if you ever considered hanging yourself, read this. Please.
To understand this story, from my perspective, there are some things you should know. About Tony. About our life.
He was a good bloke. That, I think, is the most important thing. Those of you who have been reading since the Before know that. A big, tattooed, Aussie bloke with a cheeky sense of humour, an amazing devotion to his family, direct and extended; and very much a man’s man.
He was awesome. I adored him. So please know, as you read this, that the man I’m talking about here,in the lead up to his death, was not the man I married.
Not himself, not at all.
I guess you also should know that there is, of course, a History here. And it’s not my history, it’s Tony’s, so I won’t tell you a lot of it. Suffice to say, I think, that Tony had demons that haunted him from a very young age. More recently, there were car troubles, money troubles, work stresses. Things he shared with no one. Some things that I’m only just finding out about now.
And Tony always kept everything to himself. He was the oldest, and only, male in his family, and he felt it was his job was to take care of everyone.
Tony didn’t believe in psychological help, or medication, especially for himself. But he never had a problem with me taking my meds. And he would never burden anyone with his problems, his stresses (“I’ve got it all covered, darl”). Especially not his wife, who suffers depression and anxiety as it is.
Did I ever think he was suicidal? Never. I had heard him say, as had his mum, sister and mates, that suicide is a cowards option, a dog’s way to go. And if you were to do it, make it look like an accident, where someone you know won’t find you.
Huh.
The week between New Years and the 6th of January, the day Tony hung himself, was awful. I don’t think there is too much detail needed. We argued, as couples do. But horribly. Round in circles. Without end. Continuously. My rock, the alkaline to my acid….. our roles had reversed. Where normally it was me, screaming at him to STAY AND TALK TO ME as he walked away, this time, it was me, pleading with him to leave. And him, coming at me, again, again, again. Bitter, spiteful words, intended to hurt me and make me snap and scream.
For some God unknown reason, I did not. And one of those days there, he hit me. My Man, who would never hurt a fly, had me in a headlock, one hand pushing my nose back into my skull, threatening to snap my neck. And I was terrified.
This was not the man I married.
The three days before this happened, things were worse. My stomach sunk as he walked though our back gate, diaphragm knotted in anxiety.
Twice, during those the three days Before, Tony threatened to hang himself. Once, he even told me where he would do it. And it was exactly where he did do it.
And I kick myself for that now. Three quarters of a degree in social work, I should know that when people have specific plans for suicide, things are bad.
Why did I ignore that?
My psychiatrist, an angel in a lanyard, tells me that she would have said, had I turned to her, that Tony was making idle threats. And maybe,in a way, he was.
We had plans. Australia Day, a wedding next month, a holiday in March. Suicidal people don’t make plans like that.
Do they?
The day before This Happened was Tony’s birthday. He turned 34. It was nice, quiet. Presents and ice cream cake with our kids. And I took photos, even though I was cranky at him.
I’m so glad I did.
The next day, The Last Day, was just a normal day for me. I was online, I think, on Twitter, only an hour before this happened.
Tony came home from work. Half past two, usual time, given that he started so early in the morning.
And he came to me. Hugged me. Kissed me. Told me he loved me.
If I’d known that would be that last time I hear it, would I have been more receptive? Of course. That doesn’t even require a question mark.
But I wasn’t receptive. I didn’t yell. but I was still angry, and I told him so.
And from there, all hell broke loose.
I remember, vaguely, in that next half hour, fragments of near-rational conversation. Where he told me he didn’t love me, then that he did, that he’d almost lost his job for me, given up everything for me.
But mostly I remember the fury of it. The look on his face. Things being thrown at me. Being spat at. Him, a finger over one nostril spitting snot onto me.
Like I was nothing. Less than nothing. Like he couldn’t think of anyone he hated more.
Threatening, to kill me, to take my kids, take the house, leave me on the street.
And then.
“I’m going to do something that shows everyone what a terrible person you are”.
And me, confused, scared, afraid. But it never even touched my mind that he was talking about this.
Into our back shed. Back again, with an ugly, bright piece of nylon orange rope.
A noose, already knotted in the end of it. When did he do that, how long has that been there for?
Me, standing in my back doorway, him in our backyard. Me, still thinking he’s bluffing, him, getting angrier and angrier at my lack of anger, lack of passion, why aren’t I screaming at him like I usually do?
“I’m going to fucking do it. I’m going to hang myself.”
“No, Tony, don’t be a dick, you can’t be fucking serious, your daughter is standing right here…”
A litany of words as I watch, so quickly, as he strings up over the beam of our outdoor shelter, and pulls over a chair
“TONY! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?”
He kicks himself of the chair, lands feet on the ground. Slipped, or something. Not even force. Not violent enough.
All this, is the space of milliseconds.
He looks at me again, those beautiful brown eyes, the color of melted chocolate, so full of rage and hate for me.
Up onto the chair again, and jumps, with all his force.
Fuck. I grab my daughter, my baby. Stop fucking around, Tony, you’ve scared the shit out of me, I’m a fuckwit, I get it.
Shake him, with the hand not holding my little one. Slap him, hard as I can. His sunglasses fall off, smash on the ground. And, stupidly, that’s when I realise- he’s not mucking around. His eyes are bulged, rolled back in his head. He’s unconscious already, and he’s not fucking around. His feet are touching the fucking ground, but he’s unconscious and this is real.
And my life shattered.
I ran, screaming, hysterical, into my back lane, “Help me, help me, he’s hung himself.” My neighbors run, it seems like they’re there before I call them. One of them runs into my backyard, runs out again, shaking his head, saying “Call an ambulance” over my shoulder.
“Cut him down! Cut him down!”
Why didn’t I tell them, that he’d only just done it, then, in front of me, that I’d not found him like that? Would it have made any difference? Possibly. Possibly not. Cutting down a 110 kg man who is effectively already dead takes time.
And that’s the crut
ch of this post. There is more, obviously- 100 hours in the hell that is an Intensive Care Department, and the immediate aftermath of a street full of sirens and two small children oblivious to the fact that their world has just collapsed beneath them- but that’s another post. For another time.
Here’s the thing- have you ever wondered why hanging is considered such a violent method of suicide? I always did. Even though I studied mental health.
Because it’s just so fucking quick.
It’s nothing like on the movies. Most things aren’t, I suppose, but this especially. If you asphyxiate slowly through hanging, it will be painful and long and you’ll be conscious for a lot of it. And you won’t be able to lift your own body weight to relive the tension in the rope.
That isn’t what happened with Tony.
What happened with Tony is common in hanging. He managed to compress a nerve-the Vagal nerve,I believe, but I could be wrong. This nerve runs down both sides of your neck.
Compression of this nerve instantly renders you unconscious. The rope around your neck cuts off any remaining oxygen to your brain. Brain damage sets in after 30 second, with this type of injury. After 4 minutes, it’s permanent and irreparable.
So, God forbid, you live, you will be a vegetable.
There are no second chances, with hanging. There is no time, no leeway for someone to save you. I really don’t think Tony knew that. To hang himself in front of his wife and child, in broad daylight, with a whole neighborhood of people home who would come to our aid….. I think he thought he would have time.
He was wrong. Hanging is fast, and it’s pretty damn permanent.
I can only imagine how much he’s kicking himself now.
Dickhead.
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{ 294 comments… read them below or add one }
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August 23, 2012 at 12:57 pm -
Hi Lori,
I just found your blog and just read this post. It's amazing. And I am glad for you that you were able to express it. I hope you're travelling ok (or better at least) now that a lot of time has gone by since you're husband passed, but I know that the pain will still be there. I cannot imagine the heartbreak and pain you've gone through and I wish you and your children well. xx - June 28, 2012 at 10:06 am
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Reading your blog in tears, came here bay chance searching advice for full time mums. You are stronger than most people I know, including myself, don't know what I would have done in your situation. Fuerza y amor para ti!
- January 20, 2012 at 11:33 am
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Thats pretty confronting shit. Well done for sharing. xx
- January 4, 2012 at 2:37 am
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I don't know how I ended up here, possibly a link from another blog? I was not searching for this. I vomited after I read this but not for the reason you may think. This blog entry just saved my life. I am a sahm of 4. I suffer from bipolar. I have been wanting to hang myself for months. I have tied the rope. I have tested areas by tying it and holding on to make sure it can hold my weight. Not today, not tomorrow, maybe not even this year but I've always known this is what I would do. My psychotic episodes come 2-3 times a year. The things you described, the out of character behaviors of Tony, that is me. I've read and I've felt your pain so intensely that I have literally thrown up. I can't. I won't. Please, please God don't let me be out of line in saying this but from my point of view, having never once thought of the aftermath, having never imagined what happens to those left behind, especially the spouse, I would have eventually ended my life in this fashion, in front of my husband. I keep wanting to type "I'm sorry" but those words mean nothing. If I have overstepped a line, delete this, please. I don't know why I'm posting this. There is no sense in the pain your have endured. I can tell you why you wrote during this time. Maybe you didn't know it at the time but I know I am not the first one here…. This, your blog, your writing about your experience, your experience itself… It saved my life. I feel so damn selfish saying that but maybe, there's a small part of me who is hoping that you knowing that will help in some way. I don't know. There may be 1 or even 50 other people who have read this and stopped their plans. This has been my plan for so long that I have not once through about growing old. It's not my plan. I see the pain left behind. I can't. I won't. Thank you…
- October 25, 2011 at 10:53 pm
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Oh hun, I don't know what to say. I've just found your blog and am in awe of your bravery and candidness about something so painful. The world needs more people as open as you.
- September 7, 2011 at 2:42 pm
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Lori,
I am speechless.
I am horrified that you had to go through this.
My mother attempted suicide when I was 5. I do not remember her at all. I must have blocked her out.
Thankyou for sharing your horrifying experience and Im so glad you have written it down – not only for yourself but for your children. Children are so inquisitive and will want and need to know details and this is an amazing way for them (altho upsetting – but I wish I knew more..)
Much love and you will be in my thoughts for a very long time xx - August 12, 2011 at 1:46 pm
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I just came upon your Blog today and I had no idea until I read your post on PMS and you mentioned your husband in the past tense "loved him". Now I am reading about what happened, I am so sorry, I am so sorry that Tony did this in front of you and in front of your daughter and left you all behind. I have tears rolling down my face for you, and I don't know what to say. I am thinking of you though….
- June 30, 2011 at 6:51 am
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I have poured over each and every one of your painstakenly horrific blogs to see the beauty of honesty shining through each of them. I hope strength can be felt through the Internet as I send it your way, and even more so, I gain it from you. You are such an amazing soul, and I won't even try to say I can't imagine what you are going through. But I will say that you are living each moment in the most admirable way – regardless of what emotion/thought is gripping you. Not many people could express themselves in such a genuine way and the way in which you express how you feel is so helpful to anyone whos ever experienced any level of grief (all of us) and especially those dealing with the unimaginable. Your children are the luckiest in the world to be raised by a woman who lives authentically in every moment. Your beauty will carry you through -how much of an impact you have made on what life REALLY means. I am sorry for this tragedy and wish a word could erase pain. I am also thankful people like you exist to show what living means. Thank you. May your journey continue with more and more light and more and more strength in the dark. Xxooxx
- June 28, 2011 at 4:40 pm
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I know this is 5 months after this post, but I just found your blog through Jenny (I just found her today too, well, yesterday.) And I just hope that you read this.
I read this and…..I broke. Then I started at the beginning and read it all. And I can't thank you enough for being strong enough to write this.
I've been struggling with depression and anxiety for years. Alone. But after reading this, I realized that I need help. I'm not ready to seek it yet. I'm not ready to own up to the fact that I'm broken. I'm not ready to try to convince my parents that anxiety issues are true mental illnesses. And it will take time.
I've tried reaching out to close friends, but after being ignored I gave up. Thank you for giving me the courage to try again. Thank you for showing me–through your post and your commenters–that I am not alone.
- April 11, 2011 at 5:43 am
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*hugs* I am so sorry. I know these words mean almost nothing, but I feel like I ought to say it.
- February 17, 2011 at 8:06 pm
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My heart is breaking reading this. You are an incredible person for sharing your life with us – and you are no doubt saving lives. Thoughts and love,
- February 6, 2011 at 3:55 pm
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I just came across your blog via The Bloggess, and I have tears in my eyes as I read your posts. I'm so, so very sorry for your loss. My thoughts and prayers go to you and your family.
- February 6, 2011 at 5:04 am
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I think that your strength and openness in your time of pain will make a difference to many other people in the future. thank you for sharing and sending lots of hugs.
- February 5, 2011 at 6:21 am
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Sending you a ship load of love from over the seas……and remember, a hand is here for you if you ever need it.
- February 4, 2011 at 10:40 am
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Thank you for being so honest.
- February 3, 2011 at 9:22 pm
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I suffer from depression Lori, and have had some very dark days where I've made plans. And I can be impulsive and stupid and – well, just thank you for writing this. Thank you. I won't ever forget it.
- February 2, 2011 at 4:21 pm
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Oh, Lori. I'm shaking, shocked and sick after reading that. I'm so glad you're still there – 'talking' to us. We're listening. We're here.
Give your babies a cuddle, breathe in their goodness. My biggest hope for you all is that your love for each other will help you heal. Their innocence + your strength. A beautiful combination.
Thinking about you every day.
- February 2, 2011 at 11:27 am
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It's a sad truth that we take our pain out on the people closest to us – deliberately picking fights and saying things we don't mean so we have an excuse to 'lose it' and relieve some of the anger, sadness, guilt and rage bubbling away inside. I can't even begin to imagine what you went through, but hope you know, or will one day realise, that it wasn't your fault. If your two beautiful children couldn't keep him in this world, then it seems to me that he was already irretrievably lost to the disease of depression. The man who said those things to you wasn't your husband anymore. I hope in time you'll be able to remember the 'real' Tony again – before the depression took him from you xxx
- February 2, 2011 at 9:39 am
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I am so so sorry for your loss. And I have tremendous respect and admiration for you for posting this. As so many others have said, hopefully it will prevent other tragedies from happening.
- February 2, 2011 at 8:00 am
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Thank you for being so honest. I have no doubt you helped someone with this! You are in my thoughts.
- February 1, 2011 at 2:15 pm
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What you are doing is one of the bravest things I have ever known, talking about "the ugly" sharing your pain and admonishing anyone who is thinking about suicide to think again. Wow woman, seriously, you are changing people's lives here. Wishing you strength and thank you for your honesty.
- January 31, 2011 at 4:37 pm
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Lori I am so sorry.
- January 31, 2011 at 3:37 pm
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thank you xo <3
- January 31, 2011 at 11:00 am
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Thank you for writing this Lori, I'm deeply moved. Although we don't know each other, know that what you've written and been through has touched so many, and will make a difference. I wish you and your little ones all the best.
- January 31, 2011 at 7:57 am
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Fuck. Ugly as fuck. That is really shit Lori. I can relate slightly. When my Dad killed himself, he wrote a long letter to my brother telling him that it was my fault and that I was a bitch and for me not to mourn him when he died, because I would just be a hypocrite. Dad also said that suicide was a cowards way and that he would never do it. Ha!
Hugs to you Lori, you know that was not your Tony x
- January 30, 2011 at 10:41 pm
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Ah Lori, again there's nothing I can say here. I'm reading, I want you to know that. But I cannot think of the words.
- January 30, 2011 at 9:03 pm
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dickhead…exactly…so so so so sorry for your pain x
- January 30, 2011 at 5:46 pm
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oh god…i feel sick to my stomach reading this. my close friend committed suicide in the apartment we shared together years ago now. he also hung himself and i was the one who found him….i remember vividly the red cord and the blue-ish face. it is something i will never forget and probably never totally recover from.
i feel so much empathy for you and your family right now.
xx - January 30, 2011 at 5:16 pm
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i thought I was heartbroken for you when I first heard of Tony being hospitalised… But now it breaks again and again for you and your kids… Hon. I am weeping for you, for what you are going through. You remain in my thoughts and prayers. xo Rufalina
- January 30, 2011 at 4:36 pm
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Dear Lori,
I just found you through The Blogess. Your story is so touching. I'm so sorry about what happened. I'll be thinking about you.
- January 30, 2011 at 4:20 pm
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I wish I could properly convey how deeply I can empathize with you on a number of levels (and how sorry I am to admit that). I wish I could just give you hug, make you a pot of tea. Your strength is so evident in this post. Be incredibly kind to yourself right now. The numbness may never subside, but there will be light again.
Really, there will.
- January 30, 2011 at 3:54 pm
- January 30, 2011 at 3:07 pm
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Love love love to you and your kids. This is just a nightmare of a post that will haunt me always. I am so sorry you have to live in it.
Courage to you, and never think it was your fault. He seemed sick, out of his mind and unfortunately awfully intent. - January 30, 2011 at 2:46 pm
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Lori,
Nothing much I can say but it's gotta be a good thing that you've shared it. For you and for anyone else it may help.
x - January 30, 2011 at 2:41 pm
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I am so sorry. So, so sorry.
I am sorry you lost your precious husband, twice. You lost the man he once was, and then you lost him altogether.
I'll be thinking of you and your tiny babies an awful lot in the hours, days and months to come. Reb
- January 30, 2011 at 2:13 pm
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Oh, sweetheart. ::hugs:: My heart breaks for you, but you are doing something wonderful by sharing- you're getting out what you need to say to get through, and I would lay money that you're saving lives in the process. I'm so, so sorry for what you had to see. That Tony wasn't your Tony. Your Tony lost a battle you didn't know he was fighting- he may not have even known he was fighting it, depression and psychosis are harsh monsters that can take you down before you even know what happened. I hope you can feel the warmth and love from each and every comment, and that maybe as a collective whole, we can be a tiny spot of light in what must feel pretty dark and bleak right now. You are so very loved- I hope you can feel that when you need it.
- January 30, 2011 at 11:59 am
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I only heard of you 5 minutes ago and I am sobbing for you and your kids. What horrible trauma you have endured.
My husband died in October from cancer, and I have 3 young kids. So, I can relate all too well to bits of your story and your future. But, I can't imagine going through all of this with the added burden that your husband's choice placed on you. It's too awful.
Keep writing. Love and prayers coming your way.
- January 30, 2011 at 10:59 am
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Oh my God, how absolutely awful! I am amazed that you had the strength to write about it. My heart goes out to you and your children. Just so very very awful is all I can think. Much love to you guys!
- January 30, 2011 at 9:41 am
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I don't know what to say, except THANK YOU for posting this. From the eyes of someone who witnessed a suicide. You've made me realise that sure committing suicide is the easy way out, you get to leave the world, BUT, you always forget to think about the people who might find you. The scars you might cause them, for finding you. You've made me re-think about the people who do mean a lot to me – my children. I can't imagine what it would be like if they did find me dead, as in taken my own life. Because if I did ever do it, it would be at home and that would just be so horrendous for them. Thank you Lori. I now understand the hideousness of suicide and you made me re-think my situation. Thank you for saving my life.
Plus, I don't think your man meant to cause you grief. He really did love you and I think he was just troubled by so many things. xx
- January 30, 2011 at 6:09 am
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Dear Lori –
I am reading here for the first time after being referred from The Bloggess. I didn't read all of the 254 comments before this, though I read enough and know that I'm not unique enough to write something no one else has said. But like so many others, I am unable to read a post like this and say nothing. And I'm so profoundly grateful to live alongside other people who feel that way. You are unbelievably brave. Like you, I studied social work so I "know" this and that. But having academic knowledge and living through what you've endured are two completely different things. This post will save lives and likely already has. I am so very sorry for your loss and the pain you feel and I wish you peace. - January 30, 2011 at 4:14 am
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Wow. How incredibly awful. Those Before rows are very familiar. And I've often felt depressed & angry as s result. Thanks for the warning.
- January 29, 2011 at 11:37 pm
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Fuck!
…I know she is a baby, but please, look to your daughter, she will not remembr specifics, but the horror & the trauma will always be a nagging constant in the back of her mind… She will need reasurrance & security.. This will be something she will not quite remember, but never able to forget…LOVE to you all!
- January 29, 2011 at 11:00 pm
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I hope that you will gain some strength out of this to help others, thank you for always being so honest.
I'm angry at him though for putting you through this, and making you doubt yourself – I hope that you know that you are a good person, and the amount of support you have is a reflection of this….xxxxx
- January 29, 2011 at 10:19 pm
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Hi – me again.
I was talking about this post with my hubby and he said "I read it and do you know what the overwhelming emotion was? I was proud. I was so proud of her" He was going to post a comment but never found the words. But I wanted to say this to you – because that is how I feel too, although I chose different words at the time. So proud of your courage, your strength, your pure, gutwrenching honesty. You amaze me.
Love always xoxo
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{ 8 comments… read them below or add one }
I don’t think I could do it, but it sounds liike it suits you and your little family so well xxxxx
Sounds just perfect to me! We were at Kangaroo Island on the weekend where my husband grew up. I know he’d love to move back there and bring the kids up the same way he grew up. He loved it. I would in a heartbeat if it wasn’t for my own family. I couldn’t be that far away from my mum/sister/brother/niece/nephew…. or them from my kids and I.
Maybe one day we’ll all make the move!
Enjoy your peaceful place in this world. It sounds wonderful!
Give me ‘way out there’ anytime Lori. I’m well and truly over hustle and bustle. However, as you know, ‘the big smoke’ now has an attraction for me
I got the same response when I moved from Adelaide to Roma in Qld. I moved there for work reasons but I LOVED living in the country. Horses grazed across the road from my house. The shops were closed from midday Saturday until Monday morning. It had a main street. When the floods came through in February 2012, I went and volunteered at the RSL, making sandwiches for flood victims. It’s the shameful truth that I’d never have bothered to do that in the city.
I love and miss living in the country but people just so not understand the appeal. When I told friends in Adelaide I was moving to outback Qld, the resounding response was “WHY??”. Now I live in Perth deep in suburbia and wait for an opportunity to move to the bush again.
I love where you live and would trade convienence and being near “stuff” for the space and peace and quiet a million times over.
Actually, I want to buy out that way. Mr Black is on the fence, but he can’t pass up the prices and the space. Really. He can’t. And I am trying to get him to see that being near shops really isn’t that important.
I am thinking of moving to somewhere smaller and further away for some of the same reasons. I get it, I really do.
this makes me giggle (becuase it is SO TRUE of much of the area) … along with the ‘oh i know where so and so suburb is, we used to go down there for a holiday, or long weekends!’
Tiny train town AND Paradise both sound wonderful. here’s something to be said for being surrounded by nature. There’s something to be said for cheaper housing too…
I live in a decidedly larger small town, but it’s a big change from the middle of Sydney where I spent the last decade. I was priced out of Sydney myself, but I love the amazing natural area of the place I live (also an hour and a half out of Sydney, but I think in a totally different direction.) Being able to afford my own place, being able to hike into the bush and on the rocks and to the beach, it’s something I never had in Sydney. My friends were confused at why I wanted to move to Little Beach Town, being the total city-heads they are, but I’m pretty happy here….
For now, anyway.
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