Monthly Archives: May 2016
bitchin’
bitchin’
I spend Monday combing, combing, combing. My daughter and I have a rampant case of head lice. I’ve never had them before, and find the tiny crawling bugs to be just about the ickiest thing I’ve ever encountered. The Bump is grimly fascinated with the concept of having eggs in her hair.
I spend Tuesday night in the dodgiest hotel on earth.
That might be a slight exaggeration. but only by a little bit. Albury is not known for its glamour.
The kidlets and I are driving to Sydney, for my brother’s engagement party. It’s a long haul– eight hours. But cheaper, marginally, to drive rather than fly, even with two night’s accommodation tacked on top of petrol costs. So that is what we do.
The reception office at this hotel is locked. Checking in requires walking the kidlets through a grotty, dingy pub, and presenting ourselves at the bar. It smells like cigarette smoke and footy. It’s an old scent, ground into the grungy carpet. It’s as old as the barflys themselves.
I take my kids out to eat Maccas for dinner and burn off some of that accumulated energy from sitting in the car for hours. They are good travellers, both of them. It’s one of those parenting oxymorons– three hours in the car leaves me exhausted, but them wired.
Our hotel room is tiny, three beds crammed into one room. A bar fridge and kettle hidden in a cupboard. A bathroom with the very basics. A letter from the local police constable, reminding us to lock up our car and hotel room and keep the blinds drawn, is tucked into the hotel service book. The Foxtel channels don’t work, nor does the wifi. The three of us curl into the double bed and watch movies on my iPad.
I’m tired, so so tired. I have pimples on my face, my hair needs a good dye job. I’d underestimated how easy I had it, in TinyTrainTown. This full time parenting gig is hard slog.
But I’m loving my kids so hard right now. They are such a comfort, a balm to anxiety and adult fears. Right here, between them, their sleepy blonde heads on my lap… this is where I’m supposed to be.
{ 4 comments }
I think the only bonus to being prone to depression is that you can recognise it quickly when it happens. Even if you don’t want to admit it to yourself. Or to your partner. Or to the people who love you, a thousand kilometres away.
I woke up yesterday morning crying. It’s not just a matter of being tired, of waking up to my daughter six or seven times every night. It’s not just being sick, having gastro, and the sinus infections seep into our house like small, unwanted vermin. It’s not just this Melbourne weather, being cold all the time, and never knowing when it will rain. It’s not just being broke and worried about money. It’s not just missing my mum, missing my friends. It’s not just feeling as though I’m never on top of things, like I’m always behind and disorganised.
It’s all of that… and none of it. It’s this black dog that nips at my heels, that eats happiness as though it’s scraps of food thrown out too early.
I have this whole new life, and it’s supposed to be okay. It’s supposed to be easy.
It’s not easy, and I’m not coping. And I hate myself for feeling like this. I hate myself for hating myself, and then I hate myself some more. The meds reach the outer boundary of their effectiveness- they make it so I’m able to feel nothing at all. But not so much that they can conjure up happiness, not so much that they can shed light on this kind of darkness.
I give up on cleaning the house, give up on showering, stop walking the kids to school and choose the easier option of driving them instead. I cant write. I haven’t been laughing at anything much. My sex drive is non-existent. I don’t bother putting on make up, or wearing anything other than jeans and black t-shirts. I have strange dreams. I wander round in a foggy half state, not thinking about anything much– my consciousness is stuck in past tense, events from years ago swirling through my brain with such thickness nothing new gets through. I am a ghost of myself, haunting my New House that doesn’t really feel like mine at all.
I don’t look forward to anything much, right now. Looking forward to things would mean I’d have to feel something, and I’m not sure I’m capable of feeling anything right now.
I have a doctor’s appointment today. They can’t up my medication any higher than what it currently is… but I’m telling myself that, surely, a good shrink is going to help.
{ 18 comments }
When I was growing up, there was no greater schoolyard sin than that of ‘loving yourself’.
It was used as a taunt. “Errr! You love yourself sooo much!!”.
I think it messed with my head a bit– weren’t you supposed to love yourself, wasn’t that the point? the alternative was to hate yourself. To my ten-year-old self it was a confusing concept.
If I didn’t like myself at all, maybe the bullies would like me. And, really, what right did I have to like myself, if everyone else viewed me as a piece of sh*t?
***
Self esteem is a warped and relative concept. I struggle with it, still, even now, at thirty two years old. How do you love yourself, completely, when even liking yourself is a challenge?
{ 6 comments }
Score! – RRSAHM
Score!
Hi all,
Well, I have been known to get all excited over silly little things, and this is one of them. As some of you know, my ds is very, very into trains at the moment, especially Thomas, that perennial favourite (who invades my every waking hour). Ds has even been known to go “Toot, toot” in his sleep after a big day, out riding steam trains (more on that schemozzle in alter entry).
This whole Thomas thing began when a good mate of ours, with the best of intentions, bought ds a Thomas train set for his birthday, with some extra track and a few spare trains to go with it. It was a top present and, needless to say, ds became just a wee bit obsessed with it. And, like any good mum, I willingly indulged this obsession.
No, seriously, like I mentioned in my last post, it’s a toy that I don’t mind buying extra bits for, for various reasons. Thomas is good old fashioned fun; it’s endlessly extendable and made a very good option when people asked the inevitable “What do i buy him for Christmas?” question; it’s well made- all the little trains are diecast metal; it’s great for ds‘s fine motor skills, being a push train set, not an electric one; and it’s just intricate enough to keep him thinking without being difficult enough to make him overly frustrated. It also doesn’t help that i am veeery easily amused and distracted by trinkets and odds and ends that are marketed as ‘collectible’ or ‘limited edition’. Between my EBay problem and ds‘s Thomas obsession, things were not looking good.
And so, finally, we come to the point of the story. While Ebaying the other day (before dh went and spoiled all my fun by changing his password), I happened across a Thomas playset that goes with our train set, with no bids on it, 3 days to go, at $25. I put in a bid for $35, thinking I’d be outbid and that would be the end of it. And, lo and behold, i won it for $31. Score!
Dh, being a depot supervisor for a freight company, asked one of his drivers to stop in and pick it up for him today. The driver obliged, and, when he got back to the depot, commented to dh that his sons had had that very same set, but it had been a few years since they played with it. Would dh like to come have a look, see if we’d like any of it? You betcha.
So dh cruised round there tonight. I was actually expecting him to come back with a few bits and pieces, probably for the wrong set anyway and not compatible with ours. But no. He came back with 2 playsets, enough track for CityRail, and 54 trains- that’s not a typo- 54 trains (I’m including the bus, helicopter, truck, and tramp steamer all in the train count). There is also a huge train table for the track to go on, with a ledge around the side, that’s just at toddler height. Dh paid the guy $150. Now, that might sound like a lot, but add it up with me- the play sets (including the one I bought off EBay) are $100 each retail, and the trains are between $10 and $20 each. Goodness only knows how much the table is worth. So that’s somewhere round $1000 worth of Thomas, for $181. Double score!!
Oh, how I love a bargain. But dh and I now have a mutual agreement- no more toys. At all. Ds has enough and dd certainly doesn’t need any. Hmmm.. we’ll see how this goes. I’ll let you know which one of us breaks first.
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Random Ramblings of a SAHM: FlogYoBlog Friday*.
And Another Photo Post From Paradise… – RRSAHM
And Another Photo Post From Paradise…
So…. what do the three of us do in Paradise all day…?
Well… according to the specifics of Plan B, we garden.
And, because the Bump picks all my flowers before they can really grow, occasionally we buy flowers for the kitchen bench. And we always pay.
We chill out.
And we spend a lot of time at the beach….
(Nope, not sure why this is sideways either. Blame Blogger and the Google God.)
Which means I do a lot of washing. With a lot of sand in it. But even that’s OK.
I know, I know… I’m not sure why I call it Paradise either….
Lotsa these photos come from my Instagram feed- iPeople, you can follow me…. lori_rrsahm
Leave a Comment
{ 13 comments… read them below or add one }
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April 29, 2011 at 11:41 am -
We have a sandpit. We are nowhere near the beach. And I just get the sand throughout the house. Without the beach. I tell you, I'd rather sand in pockets if I lived closer to actual shore sand… xx
- April 27, 2011 at 12:03 am
- April 26, 2011 at 8:48 pm
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looks absolutely lovely. thank you for sharing paradise withus.
- April 26, 2011 at 6:20 pm
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Oh I know perfectly well why you call it Paradise….
- April 26, 2011 at 5:03 pm
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Sounds like bliss…
- April 26, 2011 at 5:02 pm
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This comment has been removed by the author.
- April 26, 2011 at 4:15 pm
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You paint a beautiful picture of paradise (excessive sand and all…)
- April 26, 2011 at 2:51 pm
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Sounds lovely xoxo
- April 26, 2011 at 2:24 pm
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We had grand plans to head south sometime over this long weekend. To get to a beach. To spend the day building Taj Mahl's. Thanks to the move being pushed up a week we have spent it packing. Oh that and that it's been miserable every day except the one day we had plans (Easter Sunday).
I have plans to start a garden, we just have to sort out where we will be living first, so i know if i start at the new place or not. - April 26, 2011 at 12:42 pm
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I too, am looking at the pictures and smiling for you. Not a great raucous, laughter smile..just a quite, peaceful one, with all the hope and wishes that peace and also quiet, can be yours. xx
- April 26, 2011 at 4:18 am
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lovely. Sunshine and sand, the best chill out healers going
- April 25, 2011 at 9:47 pm
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Lovely! I have instagram, but I have to re-find the password for my wi-fi, so I haven't been using iphone. Would love to add you when I sort it out:)
- April 25, 2011 at 9:31 pm
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Oh Lori. I'm happy for you. Not hysterical, just smiling. Sending warm, quiet smiles your way, sweets. xxxx
Previous post: A Photo Post From Paradise…
Next post: Small Talk
And Another Photo Post From Paradise… – RRSAHM
And Another Photo Post From Paradise…
So…. what do the three of us do in Paradise all day…?
Well… according to the specifics of Plan B, we garden.
And, because the Bump picks all my flowers before they can really grow, occasionally we buy flowers for the kitchen bench. And we always pay.
We chill out.
And we spend a lot of time at the beach….
(Nope, not sure why this is sideways either. Blame Blogger and the Google God.)
Which means I do a lot of washing. With a lot of sand in it. But even that’s OK.
I know, I know… I’m not sure why I call it Paradise either….
Lotsa these photos come from my Instagram feed- iPeople, you can follow me…. lori_rrsahm
Leave a Comment
{ 13 comments… read them below or add one }
- April 29, 2011 at 11:41 am
-
We have a sandpit. We are nowhere near the beach. And I just get the sand throughout the house. Without the beach. I tell you, I'd rather sand in pockets if I lived closer to actual shore sand… xx
- April 27, 2011 at 12:03 am
- April 26, 2011 at 8:48 pm
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looks absolutely lovely. thank you for sharing paradise withus.
- April 26, 2011 at 6:20 pm
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Oh I know perfectly well why you call it Paradise….
- April 26, 2011 at 5:03 pm
-
Sounds like bliss…
- April 26, 2011 at 5:02 pm
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This comment has been removed by the author.
- April 26, 2011 at 4:15 pm
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You paint a beautiful picture of paradise (excessive sand and all…)
- April 26, 2011 at 2:51 pm
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Sounds lovely xoxo
- April 26, 2011 at 2:24 pm
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We had grand plans to head south sometime over this long weekend. To get to a beach. To spend the day building Taj Mahl's. Thanks to the move being pushed up a week we have spent it packing. Oh that and that it's been miserable every day except the one day we had plans (Easter Sunday).
I have plans to start a garden, we just have to sort out where we will be living first, so i know if i start at the new place or not. - April 26, 2011 at 12:42 pm
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I too, am looking at the pictures and smiling for you. Not a great raucous, laughter smile..just a quite, peaceful one, with all the hope and wishes that peace and also quiet, can be yours. xx
- April 26, 2011 at 4:18 am
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lovely. Sunshine and sand, the best chill out healers going
- April 25, 2011 at 9:47 pm
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Lovely! I have instagram, but I have to re-find the password for my wi-fi, so I haven't been using iphone. Would love to add you when I sort it out:)
- April 25, 2011 at 9:31 pm
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Oh Lori. I'm happy for you. Not hysterical, just smiling. Sending warm, quiet smiles your way, sweets. xxxx
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Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Brunching With a Tweet of Bloggers.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Not Easy Being Green
For Bunny. – RRSAHM
For Bunny.
I wrote this before I left the TinyTrainTown, and haven’t published it until now.
Because now… I’m missing my mates. All of them. A lot.
***
“It’s a big bad world full of twist and turns, and people have a way of blinking and missing the moment.”
Californication
***
There are so many people I will desperately miss.
I know… it’s only a state away. Only an eight-hour drive. A one-hour flight. 800 odd kilometres. 500 or so miles.
But people have a way of slipping away from each other. Friendships have a way of stretching and threading into fragile strands of fairy floss.
I know, with a dread deep in my gut, that nothing will ever be the same again as it is right now. It’s not that things are fantastic… they’re not. I have tried my best, been optimistic and hopeful and I’m proud of that. I’ve made the most of what I’ve got at the TinyTrainHouse. It’s only looking back at it that I realise how much I’ve been struggling to be content. How much I’ve been faking it, hoping I’d make it. For the sake of my kids. For the sake of myself.
But in between the sadness, there are people. People who’ve loved me and held me. People who have made me laugh, caught me and held my hand and showed me that good things- really good things- are still very possible. And while I’m sure I will find my people in Melbourne- truth be told, I already know so many of them that I doubt I’ll be short for company- my heart is breaking to leave the people I love.
People like my mum. People like Princess Boofhead, and the Mother Of Princess Boofhead, who’ve been in our lives since a week before my son was born; who have been our best, most unconditional friends.
People like Kristabelle, who I’ve known since I was 15. She’s like a guardian angel- the two worst times of my life, she has been there for me, allowed me to sip from her strength.
People like Tinks and The Doc, who loved me broken and bruised, and made me feel worth something again. People like my Katie Kitten, who walked me through the dark numbness of the weeks After, and who I have let down and neglected to thank, over and over again. People like Faerie Saerie, for all the reasons I’ve listed a thousand times over. And The Bear and The Pixie, who just help, with no wish of thanks or favours returned.
People like Auntie Mickey, who has been my best mate for twelve long, awesome years; who took me in when my own home exploded.
And people like my Bunny. The best bloke I know. He’s the reason I love Melbourne as much as I do, because he introduced me to it with such enthusiasm. He has a heart bigger than everyone. He understands me.
I’m sitting in his lounge room as I write this, listening to him sing and play guitar. He amazes me, and he only taught himself to play six months ago. He doesn’t know I’m writing this- I’ll ping him once its published.
He will miss me, and I will miss him. He texted me not long ago, asking “Who will be my best friend when you go?”
I will be, Bunny.
It’s only an hours flight. An eight-hour drive. 800 or so kilometres. 500 odd miles.
I’ll never be far away.
Leave a Comment
{ 5 comments… read them below or add one }
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September 25, 2013 at 11:07 pm -
Im still here and always will be ..best mates…only a hour flight or 8hr drive …I read your blog alot more now…im very proud of you and admire you for lots of your great qualitys …its so good to see n read you n kidlets r moving forward and I will always be a txt ..phone call ..flight or drive away …love you xo
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September 23, 2013 at 11:48 am -
Ah yes, friends…you have made me cry also. We take them for granted when we’re with them & miss them like crazy when we’re apart. They are only a phone call, a text message, a “skype” away. And, yes, it is so much more than their voices; it is the physicality of them – the hug, the hand held, the smell, the lips shared in a greeting….
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September 22, 2013 at 1:26 pm -
Oh Lori this made me cry. Those friends are still there. Yes in a less physical sense, and yes from so elf them you will drift because of that, but it doesn’t mean the friendship is over. I know first hand how years apart and then pickig up where you left off can happen to effortlessly, like it was meant to be. And some friends? Some you just never drift from, they visit, you visit and you make the most of that time.
Miss Pink recently posted…Giving and Getting
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September 21, 2013 at 1:05 pm -
Your friends will always be a phone call away. I can hug through a phone, you know!
x
Ill also thankyou, for making me cry at my desk. I tried to call your old home number yesterday.
Ummmmm? -
September 21, 2013 at 12:10 pm -
Oh, oh. I moved away from my best friend (a guy I’ll call The Goth – that’s his blog nickname) a couple of years ago. Not eight hours away, but far enough when you’ve spent four years living with your best friend. It’s hard, so hard.
But they are still there. Just a button-press away. I hope you are doing okay missing your friends. Hope you start to make some local ones too.
x
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The Medium, Part One – RRSAHM
The Medium, Part One
I’m a practiced skeptic… a people reader who once made my living by knowing how magic works and reading the tiniest facial cues to keep myself from being found out. I watch John Edwards and quite often laugh…. there’s always an ‘A’ in the room.
But I also believe in things I don’t understand. Consider that the whole world of living things is, essentially, a pulsing, breathing organism, and we are part of that. Consider that their is a large percentage of the human brain that is simply a mystery to modern science- we do not know what it does.
Consider those things, and tell me it’s not arrogant to concede willful disbelief in things such as psychics, mediums and clairvoyancy.
***
I saw a medium a week or so ago. It was terrifying, gratifying, made me cry for days and was exactly what I needed. Forgive me while I tell this one in the third person… it’s easier.
***
It’s a psychic fair at a small suburban club, the kind where you can take you children for dinner in the bistro and only vaguely hear the clanging of poker machines in the background.
Entry is $5 and there are tables set up all through a small auditorium. Some sell incense and oils, books and jewelry, tribal drums and dream catchers. Smaller tables dot the carpeted area in the middle, and seated at each is a seer of some kind… clairvoyants; mediums; tarot; color and number readers; spirit guides; healers and those who claim to read guardian angels.
If you spend enough time and money there, one of them is certain to tell you what you want to hear.
There’s a ‘show’ starting, the kind of psychic show you see on Pay TV… a medium with a microphone and a captivated group of people sitting in front of her. The audience is not huge, but it grows as she speaks. This woman is the one that most people have come here to see, and her four hours worth of $40-for-20-minute bookings are completely filled within 15 minutes of the doors opening.
In the second row of the small crowd sits a tiny woman with dark hair. Her best friend sits next to her, and she has a tiny toddler with pigtails in her hair perched on her lap. In the seat in front of her is a boy, almost four years old and the spitting image of his late father. Both children are behaving extraordinarily well for being so young and having to sit so still, and the woman with the dark hair occasionally passes them snacks, drinks and toys from a gaudy Sesame St bag. She’d rather not have her children here, you can see that on her face, but the need to be her is not so easy to ignore, and her options are limited.
The first ten minutes of the show pass slowly as the medium relays a message from an old man with bowel cancer to his son in law. The woman with the dark hair is barely listening, her foot jiggling against the floor. She has the same feeling she gets when a thunderstorm is due…. there is electricity in the air. Something is about to happen.
“I’m sorry,” the psychic on stage interrupts herself from chatting to the son-in-law about how heaven is everything the old man said it would be, “but I have to stop there. I’m choking. There’s a man here and there’s something around his neck, and this is how he died.”
The tiny, dark haired woman feels the storm break and sits up as if a lightning bolt has hit her. She raises her hand, tentatively, as she notices the silence in the rest of the audience.
“I think that may be for me.”
“Yes… I think so. There was no note, was there? And who found him? You? You did. Oh my…. you’re so tiny. He’s showing me that, you tried to help him, and you were so distressed. He says he’s sorry, he’s so sorry.”
The dark haired woman says nothing, but nods occasionally in ascertain to the women’s questions. The medium speaks faster, her words tumbling over each other as if she can’t keep up with what she’s seeing, can’t keep up with what needs to be said. As she talks, she gestures behind her, as if that’s where the images and messages are coming from.
“He wants you to know he got a good kick up the bum when he got here… an older woman, she gave him a hiding and said “You idiot.” But he’s OK. And he loves you. He wants you to know that he loves you.”
“These are his children, yes? Yes, they are, and yes, they are beautiful! He says that he doesn’t feel like he can call himself dad anymore. And he’s telling me not to be too graphic, because the little ones are here. He’s saying “Quick, make her laugh!” because he hates to see you crying.”
“It’s important you know… you where his anchor. He loved you, he loved you, he loved you. You showed him what true love was, what it meant to be loved. He adored you. The sun rose and set with you, and he’s so sorry for what happened. He was in two minds, and he didn’t mean it to go this way.”
“And you’re not going crazy, he says. He does come and play with your hair at night, you’re not imaging it.”
At this point the dark haired woman in the audience begins to sob….how many nights has she fallen asleep, positive she’s on her way to her own psychosis because she can feel her husbands thick fingers gently unknotting her hair?
At this point, the medium turns to the tiny woman’s friend, who is sitting beside her, crying also.
“You knew him well too. He’s showing me you’re a mother figure to her, you took care of her, and he says thank you. He also tells me you have a few choice words for him, and not to ask you too much about what you think of him right now.”
“He wants you to know that he made it to Heaven, he got there… whoever it is that’s worried about suicides not going to Heaven, he’s telling them to stop worrying. And he had tattoos?” At this point, the medium puts her hand on her chest, over her heart. Ask her about it later, and she would probably not have remembered doing it, it seemed to be such an unconscious gesture. There’s no way of knowing what could have been located there. There’s also no way of knowing that he died with one tattoo, the one for me, unfi
nished.
nished.
“He wants you to know that he’s having his tattoo finished. He’s loving it up there. He wants you tell people “Na na, I got here”, because it was a running joke during his life that he wouldn’t. And he tells me you have a tattoo for him, you got it recently?”
In a daze, the woman in the audience pulls up her sleeve, revealing a brightly colored tattoo that has been entirely hidden by clothing until now.
“Ahhh yes! He loves it. He knows it’ll be hard on the next bloke, but he loves it. And that’s another thing- there’s no jealousy, nothing like that, in Heaven, it’s OK.”
“He knows you had a few choice words for him too, and that’s OK. But he wants to say thank you, thank you so much, thank you for the love.”
And with that the medium smiles, and moves onto the next spirit, the next relative, the next message. The dark haired, tiny woman in the audience, she mouths a thank you to the psychic on stage, and then gets up, still blinded by tears, leaving her children in the care of a friend while she sits outside and cries, sucking down a cigarette as if it will be her last one ever.
There’s no doubt in her mind what happened. It was all too accurate, too quick. She had not said a word, just nodded and cried. It was more than the words of the medium… she could feel her husband there, hear his tone in this woman’s voice.
The dark haired woman feels better than she has in months; but much worse too. It’s the feeling of someone being just there, knowing they’re there, but they exist behind a pane of glass so thick and heavily tinted you can’t see or hear them if you try.
***
Leave a Comment
{ 63 comments… read them below or add one }
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February 10, 2013 at 3:11 pm - December 13, 2011 at 5:42 am
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Wow, a very powerful experience *hugs* it must have been incredibly hard too though
- November 25, 2011 at 9:12 am
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Holy Fuck! I saw a clarivoyant once and as soon as I walked in, she said, 'You're not responsible for Carol. She can look after herself.' She knew my mums name who had been going through a tough time and I felt like I was the only one who cared. She also told me I would write on a screen for a career. In 1997 that was a little bizarre and i thought she was nuts. And now I blog. Go figure.
- November 16, 2011 at 12:41 pm
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You have a talent for writing. Thanks for the feelings.
- November 16, 2011 at 11:47 am
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Yes… Wow! ((((hugs))))
- November 15, 2011 at 2:15 pm
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Oh shit Lori, I don't cry at blog posts but how could I not? All choked up here with tears streaming down for you. Amazingly beautiful xx
- November 15, 2011 at 11:34 am
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So good to hear you found a real Messenger with so many Fakers around these days.
Kind of picks up my own spirits since I lost all faith in any others in my industry 20 years ago… due to there being so many fakers, unbalanced ego types, etc.
I love how things work out in their own time…. esecially when it supports what I told you already.
Be well Love,
Oldie
- November 15, 2011 at 7:45 am
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Oh, tears, lump in throat, passionate, amazing. God bless.
- November 15, 2011 at 6:56 am
- November 15, 2011 at 6:43 am
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Wow….. That's all I can say.
- November 15, 2011 at 4:02 am
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Oh Lori, I am so so happy you went to see her. I saw a medium just a few weeks ago and found myself sobbing the whole time. It was all accurate. Know now, that you can speak to him…I speak to my deceased grandma, and I don't hear her respond in her voice, it more comes at me as a thought. I just know the thought is not my own…its hers. Please try it. Just ask aloud any question you have for him and wait for a response in your mind. Good Luck!
- November 15, 2011 at 3:20 am
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holy shit!
- November 15, 2011 at 3:01 am
- November 15, 2011 at 12:46 am
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I know it's late but just getting to my reader – OMFG – tears and hope for you gorgeous x
- November 14, 2011 at 11:45 pm
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I have tears running down my face for you at this moment and goosebumps i have also seen a medium and learnt a lot about my past,family,and today (with the troubles) i have with my children.
- November 14, 2011 at 11:41 pm
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*hugs*
- November 14, 2011 at 11:29 pm
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Fuck.
Just. fuck.
I am a mess. I had to walk away, then come back to finish reading this. I couldn't see your words for my tears.
Fuck.
Tony loves you so very much.
xxxx
- November 14, 2011 at 10:53 pm
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have been having a bit of insommnia lately and watching Psychic Sally on cable at 4.30am thinking THIS IS WHAT LORI NEEDS…. How can we be so superior to think that what we can see is all that there is? I believe your man is there watching over you and your children and I hope the kick up the arse hurt…
- November 14, 2011 at 10:44 pm
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Holy COW. That's incredible.
Just. Wow. - November 14, 2011 at 10:20 pm
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Whoa. I'm so glad you got to hear all that. Whoa!
- November 14, 2011 at 10:05 pm
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Wow! Powerful stuff Lori, I got tingles down my spine.
I am so glad Toni came through for you, to tell you how much he loves you, that it wasn't your fault. But most of all, that he loves you.
- November 14, 2011 at 9:40 pm
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amazing.
a good medium is worth their weight in gold.
i'm so glad that you got this reading, that tony came through for you – it doesn't change anything but it can in time, make you feel lighter.
~x~
- November 14, 2011 at 9:35 pm
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Hair standing on end. It is eaasy on TV to go "oh its a ring-in" or "oh of course there is a Sarah with a loved one called John" but straight from someone you "know"… just terrifyingly amazing
- November 14, 2011 at 7:48 pm
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wow.
- November 14, 2011 at 7:33 pm
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Wow Lori,
You have written what happened beautifully. I was in the front row listening, and we all felt for you so much. So glad you have a blog You have a natural talent for writing. Take care <3 - November 14, 2011 at 6:55 pm
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Yeah, tears, shock, amazement and happy for you knowing that you got to "talk" to him and hear words you needed to hear from him.
Amazing. Truly amazing
- November 14, 2011 at 5:57 pm
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I'm sitting here bawling my eyes out. I can only imagine how beautiful yet heart-breaking this experience must have been for you Lori. I'm so glad she was genuine and that Tony was able to reach out to you xx
- November 14, 2011 at 4:38 pm
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A. Mazing.
What a gift, a true true gift, to get those messages. So clear, so accurate and no doubts.
I have goosebumps
xxx
- November 14, 2011 at 4:30 pm
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Wow, I am seriously the biggest skeptic ever but reading that just had me in tears with a mass of goosebumps.
Just WOW!
- November 14, 2011 at 4:14 pm
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Woah.
Woah.
I'm a puddle.
I can only begin to imagine what this has meant for you.
Woah.
Good on you, Tony. Good work mate.
What an amazing experience, Lori.
xx - November 14, 2011 at 3:29 pm
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Oh sweetie, how beautiful. How incredibly brilliant and beautiful. Just perfect. xoxo
- November 14, 2011 at 3:04 pm
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Just…speechless. I'm very happy for you that he came through
x - November 14, 2011 at 2:57 pm
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Exactly what you needed indeed.
"He also tells me you have a few choice words for him, and not to ask you too much about what you think of him right now."
now, that made me chuckle. What an amazing friend you have there at your side.
- November 14, 2011 at 2:42 pm
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holy shit. that is all.
- November 14, 2011 at 2:16 pm
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Oh my gosh, Lori- that is astounding. There are tears pricking at my eyes and I kept going back to reread the wonderousness. I was so covered in goosebumps. For now all else I can say is "WOW".
- November 15, 2011 at 12:40 am
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Wow! I'm not so much a sceptic, but I do believe. You are lucky to get this message. How wonderful, but how raw.
hugs
x - November 14, 2011 at 1:02 pm
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Wow, just wow!!!
xxx - November 14, 2011 at 12:54 pm
- November 14, 2011 at 12:49 pm
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I'm looking forward to part two. It's wonderful that she was able to offer you so much comfort. In my mind, that's what a psychic is there for.
But I'm still skeptical about this being about having "powers". Was there anything she mentioned that wasn't already in this blog? It's possible she has read your story and recognized you. If I was a psychic, with real powers or otherwise, I would certainly want to give you comfort. {Hugs}
- November 14, 2011 at 12:46 pm
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Wow. I have goosebumps reading this. xx
- November 14, 2011 at 12:37 pm
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You're making me a believer!
- November 14, 2011 at 12:23 pm
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Oh Lori I cried. Bawled.
I am glad he is trying to reach you so much. Glad, but also I don't want you to feel the pain of it. It's ok, he is telling you that he will make sure you're ok. You just can't see or hear or touch him. And I know THAT isn't ok, but he will look after you still.I am the same with psychics. I only ever want to see them when i'm feeling incredibly lost and I spend most of the time trying to pick at them to prove they're a crock of shit. It's silly.
I haven't been many times, but I know that I need to see one before the end of the year. Any reccommendations? Please!I saw one a week before I had Bluey. Just a tarot reading, and of all the things she said to me only one still sticks with me. She said "You're sick aren't you? Some problems with the pregnancy." I shook my head no, I told her my pregnacy was textbook perfect. Then, well things changed very quickly, but that is such a long story. That little comment, from nowhere, I mean I looked FABULOUS in that pregnancy, so she couldn't have just picked it looking at me. And she never said "Oh sorry I must be wrong." or anything like that, she just smiled when I told her no and moved on. I think she knew. I didn't put it together until 6 months later.
- November 14, 2011 at 11:57 am
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Lori this is amazing. I'm quite a believer in these things and recently had the pleasure of meeting the world acclaimed Medium Deb Webber. She was so spot on, and I was amazed at the messages they can impart.
the biggest lesson she gave me was that its her job to being comfort & closure. To let go of the grief and send light and love to the ones you so desperately want back. Easier said than done, I know…
But still, I hope with all my heart this brought some solace and answered some questions… Much love to you x
- November 14, 2011 at 11:45 am
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Wow. Heart wrenching. I hope you find peace as you navigate this bit of the journey.
- November 14, 2011 at 11:40 am
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I am so so glad that you went to see a psychic. A friend of mine went a little while ago & she is pretty sure it was Tony that was there & wanted to tell you that it was not your fault. The psychic said she couldn't say anymore because my friend was too distanced from you to pass on detailed information.
I had no idea how to tell you, it wasn't something I could say over the phone & I went to tell you a hundred times on Saturday night but because I wasn't certain & it was second hand information (or third) I didn't.
I hope this brings you some peace knowing he is still out there & he still loves you very much xxx
- November 14, 2011 at 11:29 am
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I'm a commenter who normally isn't anonymous. I'm a medium to a degree. I'm not a professional or anything and I'm more scared of it than anything else and I don't tell people (obviously). When this all first happened to you, I received a message for you as I was reading your blog but I was too scared to pass it on. I wish I had now. It was after you thought your little son had received a message, about slowing down driving, I think? I was asked to tell you 'I'm sorry, I love you, it's ok.' Or something to that effect. With so much going on around me, I get hurried feelings that take vague word-like shapes/sounds. I wish I'd told you then, but a message like that is so generic, no matter if it's true. I am so, so thankful you received a message so clear and beautiful. I hope it brings you comfort and peace. You deserve it!
- November 14, 2011 at 10:54 am
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Goosebumps and tears xxx
- November 14, 2011 at 10:49 am
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I hope his words can bring some comfort and healing:)
- November 14, 2011 at 10:34 am
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Wow. Who cares how clairvoyants/psychics work, because that was amazing.
When you think about the true definition of Amazing… that it amazes you, and in this case makes strangers cry for you. - November 14, 2011 at 10:27 am
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Incredible. The perpetually dry eyes of this stony cynic have also welled up.
I've always been sceptical on these issues, but you're quite right about the brain: our understanding of neurology is almost infinitesimally shit. And the accuracy, lack of prompting…wow.
I'm so glad that you were able to hear that he's sorry for what happened, that he loves you – and, of course, that he's OK. And I hope you are too.
Thinking of you, lady.
- November 14, 2011 at 10:23 am
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oh gosh, tears here too. yours isn't the first story I've heard like this and it fills me with wonder and hope.
- November 14, 2011 at 9:58 am
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It's been a while since you made me cry, I read the title and felt angry, felt that you would be taken on a vunerable ride. Now I just want to hug you very very tight. xxxx
- November 14, 2011 at 9:39 am
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Oh my gosh, I think I held my breath as I read that.
Thats amazing, honestly. WOW!
He loved you so
xxx - November 14, 2011 at 9:34 am
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Tears streaming down my face…
So many dodgy mediums out there, but when you find one, a real one, it is so totally worth it.Hugs xx
Bec
x - November 14, 2011 at 9:34 am
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Tears streaming down my face…
So many dodgy mediums out there, but when you find one, a real one, it is so totally worth it.Hugs xx
Bec
x - November 14, 2011 at 9:04 am
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Oh, Lori.
- November 14, 2011 at 8:47 am
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Beautiful. xxx
FMIDK - November 14, 2011 at 8:41 am
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wow
words won’t come; know i am here sending healing energy through the pacific waters between us.
- November 14, 2011 at 6:01 pm
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I have tears running down my cheeks reading this, Lori, I can only imagine how bittersweet it was for you to hear those words.
Hugs and LOVE, always. xx - November 14, 2011 at 1:53 pm
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Unfuckingbelievable.
I am sitting here in a puddle of tears.
I know this is nowhere near a happy ending but I hope this connection filled with you some love and hope, Miss Lori x
- November 14, 2011 at 12:47 pm
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I can't stop crying. How special for you to be able to hear from him. What a lucky woman to have a husband that loves her so much xx
- November 14, 2011 at 9:57 am
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I admit to being sceptical (through fear I think) but I read this and the tears well up and I think – there is something.
I have had the same reaction to this as I did to Steve Jobs last words "Oh wow. Oh wow. Oh wow." very moved.
x
- November 14, 2011 at 9:54 am
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Wow Lori, I was seriously sobbing. How wonderful for you.
xxx
Previous post: Vagina
Next post: The Medium, Part Two
You Wanna Contact Me? – RRSAHM
You Wanna Contact Me?
Again, really?
OK then.You can Follow me on Twitter. Or you can be my ‘Liker’ on Facebook. I’m also on YouTube, Flickr, IG and LinkedIn. If you’re the shy type, you can ask me an anonymous question via FormSpring. If you just want to stay in the loop with what goes on- guest posts, competitions, the best posts of the month and other bits and pieces- the RRSAHM monthly newsletter is totally the place to be.
Or you can reach me for phone calls of the heavy breathing variety at 0410 RRSAHM.
Or you can reach me for phone calls of the heavy breathing variety at 0410 RRSAHM.
Not, not really. How silly do you think I am? Probably best if you don’t answer that, actually.
Please email me at…
lori_rae_is (at) live.com
….and I’ll endeavour to reply within the next 72 hours.
PR and Media people, I have a media kit just waiting to read and loved and cosseted by you- please feel free to shoot me an email. I occasionally do reviews, sponsored posts and paid activity on this blog- a girl’s gotta eat.
***
We’re also a huge fan of old fashioned snail mail here at the TinyTrainHouse. Please feel free to send it. If you happen to be sending products for review, do note that receiving them does not mean they will make it onto my blog or other social medias- only the things that really tic
kle my pickle go there.
Snail mail goes to….
PO Box 143
Pascoe Vale Sth
VIC 3044
Australia
And that leaves you spoilt for choice. Looking forward to hearing from you soon, one way or another.
Cheers.
Leave a Comment
{ 12 comments… read them below or add one }
-
June 30, 2014 at 4:10 pm -
can her heat and fearlessness offer Rahul the courage to face a long-simmering confrontation along with his parents.
Will Po be able to defeat Lord Shen even when conflicted with this past.
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of juggling and magic would only enhance the act.
miss brown boys recently posted…miss brown boys -
June 22, 2014 at 11:37 pm -
) Meantime, the Soviet Automaton winds out this page-gobbling soliloquy for the benefit of who he thinks
is Tarot Lass:”Pay heed, woman, and do not condemn me, for you cannot judge me before you have heard my story. I found the duality of that a very interesting challenge to play. These included: HIPPIEHEAD AND SNACKY #1 (Fall 1967).
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June 20, 2014 at 7:28 pm -
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May 19, 2014 at 9:31 am -
Hello,
I was very sad to read of the loss of your husband. I hope you are doing okay.
We have a free family event as part of The Bridge Road Film Festival
Wreck it Ralph – PG will be showing on 24th May, 2014 at 5:45pm, Richmond Town Hall 333 Bridge Road Richmond.
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We are hoping it is suitable for your dediacted followers who may want a free night out of entertainmnet!
If you need any further information please let me know.Thanks & Regards
Pauline -
May 17, 2014 at 7:21 am -
The very core of your writing while sounding reasonable originally, did not settle properly with me personally after some time. Someplace within the sentences you actually managed to make me a believer unfortunately only for a very short while. I still have a problem with your jumps in logic and one might do nicely to fill in those breaks. If you actually can accomplish that, I could undoubtedly end up being fascinated.
-
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Yasmin recently posted…Yasmin -
April 29, 2014 at 11:53 pm -
May 28, 2013 at 11:40 am -
Hi,
My name is Wendy. Just wanted to drop by and say that I really enjoy reading your blog. Being a mother of 2 myself (Scarlett – 13 and Kaitlyn – 10), I really find a lot of great stuff (from activities to tips on parenting) online and I really love reading your posts and thoughts on your blog too.
I’ve been looking around on information for my eldest that I can use to talk to her about the Internet as she is starting to explore online and I found this one (http://backgroundchecks.org/the-concerned-parents-toolbox-120-tools-and-tricks-to-protect-your-kids.html). I thought I would also share it with you too.
Thanks and hope to hear your thoughts on the internet for kids and what we as parents should watch out for.
-
May 27, 2013 at 1:00 am -
I was pointed to your web presence in the Google+. I am impressed and touched. You delighted me and you made my heart bleed. Your story is wonderful, is full, is a self portait. Well done.
A testement.
No-one is complete without a full set of experience and you express your experience well in this wonderful web effort.
You are worth everything lady. I just read that you re-affirm yourself sometimes. Well done. Love yourself.
Buy yourself a pizza.
Take yourself for a walk.
Stay with us for a while, no need to go POP just yet, you have too many things to do and too much happy to give.
We will never meet and that is just so, but I did get to have a look and a read [instead of a listen, next best thing]
All of us, every single one, is like this:
A best seller if only a decent author would pen our story.
That goes for every human. Everyone’s story would be a best seller if only it were writ.
You have writ it here and thank you for it. I am sold.
Don’t look in site if you ever feel a need. As I am a grouchy old bastard and don’t make anyone happy [sob cry lament sob sob sob]. Plucking earthworms from puddles and dropping them into the grass is what I do for feel-goods. Affirmation. Oh, and a slice of pizza whenever I go to the Big Store…. Maybe I give a hobo ten bucks and make his bloody day……
Those are not the sum the sum of my feel-goods, but I like them well enough and this is a short letter, not my story.
IE, never mind me.
Peace.Hezey Biles
BC, Canada. -
April 22, 2013 at 1:22 pm -
Hi Lori,
I manage an online education resource named Skwirk. We are Australian and cover years 1-10, subjects include Maths, English, Science, History and Geography. I was wondering if you would be interested in reviewing Skwirk?
You can see what kids are saying about Skwirk here: http://youtu.be/m57o0wv4fPk
Thanks for your time,
The Skwirk Team
-
February 7, 2013 at 5:19 am -
New design is great!
The Sweetest Thing. – RRSAHM
The Sweetest Thing.
I was very lucky, in the months following Tony’s death, to receive all kinds of packages, from all over the world, filled with all kinds of lovely things.
They were little spots of sunshine, every one. A few minutes a day,opening packages with my children, still crying, but in a better way. Shedding tears over the number of people who cared, the number of people who went out of their way to show kindness to a woman and a family they’d never met.
Every one of them of them was special, and I’ll probably do a few posts on them on the future.
But one, in particular, just…. well. You’ll see.
I received a huge package from a family in new South Wales.It was packed with goodies- shampoo, deodorant, and make up for me, movie tickets, clothes for my kids, beach towels, food… the list goes on.
And nestled within it was this.
Which came with this note.
“This is from my 6 year old son. He wanted to make Lori something to make her feel better. He has also sent her a 10 cent coin. He only had 15 cents in his piggy bank and wanted Lori to have ‘the big one’. He does not yet understand the value of money
He said that he hope she loves her bracelet and that it helps her to feel better. he has sent her money so that Lori will have enough money to make her and her children happy again.
From James- 6 years old.“
James, I can’t even tell you how happy this made me. It made me smile when all i could do was cry. You are a very special, very kind little man and I am very proud of you.
Sometimes, it’s just the sweetest, simplest things… they take the edge of the grief.
Leave a Comment
{ 32 comments… read them below or add one }
- May 23, 2011 at 11:50 am
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sheessh….just go and make me bawl my eyes out next time…warning please…. ;).
just kidding, I love it, amazing how AMAZING children are.
- May 19, 2011 at 6:00 am
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Oh my, that really is so lovely! I teared up reading that. In times of need you realise how kind some people can be. I'm glad this gift touched your heart, it really is very special. *hugs*
- May 18, 2011 at 10:27 am
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What a lovely boy. And so healing for you to be reminded in the loveliness in our world. xo
- May 17, 2011 at 11:48 pm
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Your story has moved so many people to random acts of kindness Lori.
Thank you for sharing. - May 16, 2011 at 4:21 pm
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awwww happytears
- May 16, 2011 at 11:51 am
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With acts of kindness, they say the serotonin levels of the recipient (you) and the giver (James) increases. The coolest thing, is that so do those of the observers (the rest of us). Thank you for sharing, and for raising my serotonin levels today!
- May 16, 2011 at 7:18 pm
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I am proud of my little man too
Lori Thank you for your kinds words to James and for the lovely card
And to you all for the lovely things you have said about my son
I am crying happy tears now too
All our Love and Support
Claire - May 15, 2011 at 10:52 pm
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You must meet him to squish him on our behalf and yours! Human nature at its best, babe xxx
- May 15, 2011 at 8:16 pm
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He gave you the bigger coin, that's just lovely beyond words. x
- May 15, 2011 at 3:02 pm
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oh how beautiful… and what a grand gesture from this little boy. i can see why it made your heart swell. the kindness of strangers never ceases to amaze me. i am so glad that this world has people like little james to bring some sunshine among the clouds
- May 15, 2011 at 12:35 pm
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Just come across your blog (and will continue to follow) and want to say you are doing well just to get through each day. Can't imagine the magnitude of the difficulties and the rollercoaster you are having to endure. I can see that there are many people out there thinking of you, (even 6yo James!), and I'm now one of them.
JB - May 15, 2011 at 11:37 am
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Oh! Beautiful, beautiful boy. <3
- May 15, 2011 at 8:21 am
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Hi Lori, I have been following you for a while now and felt compelled to comment on this gorgeous post. This is just so beautiful, what a thoughtful and sweet little boy. This bought tears to my eyes and joy to my heart. Thank you. xx
- May 15, 2011 at 8:12 am
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That is so beautiful and so thoughtful!! A lovely gesture from a lovely boy.
I was so surprised to see your lovely face staring at me as I read the paper yesterday. Such an honest piece. xxx
- May 15, 2011 at 5:28 am
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Incredible where the urges to help come from, isn’t it ?~! What a loving gesture by James-may I thank him and the parents and village who are raising him for his specialness….
Just found you last night and read the story following your provided links. There aren’t words available to me to express my sympathy and I hope that you can understand what I mean.
- May 15, 2011 at 1:44 am
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Oh my goodness, that little James brought tears to my eyes! What a wonderfully sweet little man.
- May 14, 2011 at 11:52 pm
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Children have the most beautiful, thoughtful souls.
That is a wonderful sentiment. - May 14, 2011 at 11:33 pm
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Oh gosh. That beautiful little deed has me crying. How lovely some people are xo
- May 14, 2011 at 11:18 pm
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Bottom lip is wobbling! How adorable!
- May 14, 2011 at 10:48 pm
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That's truely priceless Lori!
- May 14, 2011 at 10:25 pm
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Beautiful, just love how kindness happens. xo
- May 14, 2011 at 9:56 pm
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I wish kids could stay this innocent and pure forever. Well done little guy, you've brought smiles to many x
- May 14, 2011 at 9:52 pm
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ahh out of the mouths of babes, hey?
- May 14, 2011 at 9:50 pm
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Wow, that just takes my breath away; this 6 year old is going to grow into one helluva great man.
There really are so many people who dont know you personally, but care so much and wish you so well on this rocky path. I hope somehow all of us have in some small way made you feel a little hope, a little lighter i such a terrible time x
- May 14, 2011 at 9:50 pm
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wow – so sweet
you have touched so many people – hearts ache for you everywhere – I can only imagine how that little box of love made you feel – a little bit of sweetness can be magic - May 14, 2011 at 8:55 pm
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Oh Lori, I've been following you since what you call 'before' and this is such a beautiful post. There are some lovely souls in the world- and as he has touched you, you have touched us. So for that, thank you.
- May 14, 2011 at 8:46 pm
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I love the way children are just so genuine and pure with the things they do for others. What a wonderful gift
- May 14, 2011 at 8:38 pm
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That is a priceless gift!
- May 14, 2011 at 8:37 pm
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Oh, that bought tears to my eyes. How gorgeous of him.
And how wonderful for you all the support when you need it most.
- May 14, 2011 at 8:31 pm
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Oh gosh. What a very special little boy there sending you lots of love.
- May 14, 2011 at 8:07 pm
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It's kids like James who give you hope that one day, the world will be alright again. I just read your article in the Adelaide newspaper. It felt strange, reading your story after following you since Before. I felt very protective of you. I hope You are doing ok, today. And I hope that James' bracelet is on your wrist xxxxxx
- May 14, 2011 at 8:04 pm
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Aww – bless the sweet little fella! Thats the kind of conscientous young person i hope that im teacher my small dude to be…
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: In The Powder Room
Retro RRSAHM- Lori Misplaces Something Very Important – RRSAHM
Retro RRSAHM- Lori Misplaces Something Very Important
‘Hem… *ahem*, *ahem*, *ahem*. A fractured fairytale. Definitely not for children.
***
Once upon a time, there was a young wench named Lori.
One Saturday morning, Lori and her devoted, loving betrothed, the Man, awoke at the peaceful hour of 8am, to find their children still sleeping.
In the land of the Purple House, this was indeed a unique and exciting occurrence.
“I doth think we should partake in a bit of nookie” intones the Man.
Lori retires to the powder room to grapple with her troublesome contraceptive, the Holy and Glorious Diaphragm. This Diaphragm has been the source of many a happy adventure. It lives in small, white plastic case in the bathroom drawer.
Whatever-oust. Nookie was had, and all was well in the land of the Purple House.
That is, until approximately two hours later, when the land of the Purple House was hit by the dreaded Gastro Monster. Lori and the Man realized, too late, that it was under the Gastro Monster’s spell the children had slept so peacefully.
Three days and three nights passed. The children, Lori and the Man had recovered well and continued about their daily business raising cows and harvesting crops on Farmville. On the nigh of the third day, The Man turned to Lori and said
“Does thou fancy a bit of nookie?”
“Indeed, my Lord, with your pork sword“, replies Lori.
And she skips up to turret stairs to grapple with her friend the Diaphragm.
Lori creeps down the hall, past one, two sleeping children. Tiptoes into the bathroom, and by the light of the lamp in the hallway, cracks open the drawer….
…. but when she got there, the diaphragm case, it was bare!!
Oh fuck.
Lori sent frantic message via carrier pigeon to her fairy godmother, the health line nurse, who attempted not to giggle whilst she reassured our heroine all was well, and to see the local surgeon and drink a brew of newt’s eyes and mugwort if signs of tepid infection became apparent.
Lori, fraught, came close to throwing the Holy and Glorious Diaphragm in the pig slop receptacle. Then, she remembered the tragic days of yonder Pill, when she wanted to stab her husband and run over random strangers with her car. And she decided to hang onto her hallowed contraceptive.
But she never forgot to remove her diaphragm ever, ever again.
*This asterisk doesn’t refer to anything in particular, this whole post needs a freaking asterisk. In my defense, diaphragms are supposed to be left in for six hours after… nookie…. and I normally just leave the plastic case out so I don’t forgot about it and an incident like this does not occur. But somewhere in my vomit and fever, I must have put the case away. Personally, I think it’s just a miracle I didn’t turn the Man’s second request for nookie down the way I usually do. Or things could have gotten really…. uncomfortable.
Leave a Comment
{ 11 comments… read them below or add one }
- January 6, 2012 at 3:13 am
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ROFL! Brilliant story! And a moral in there somewhere!
- December 31, 2011 at 7:25 pm
- December 30, 2011 at 7:09 am
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That is a very funny story. I have a couple of kids who are the result of forgetting to put it in, rather than forgetting to take it out.
- December 30, 2011 at 2:00 pm
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Damn woman – thouest hath made me LOL!!!
- December 30, 2011 at 12:17 am
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LOL Lori!!! Hilarious!!!!
- December 29, 2011 at 9:48 pm
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Ah yes, remember those days LOL hate the damn things.
- December 29, 2011 at 1:55 pm
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That was great! But, you have me scared. I was going to give the pill another chance in a few days. I had thought, uh oh, will hormones be a problem. Hmmm.
- December 29, 2011 at 1:11 pm
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Nookie two days in a row is practice, Isn't it ?~!
- December 29, 2011 at 1:01 pm
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Oh you poor, poor woman! Also, cacking up at the mention of " pork sword "….. my man calls it that too!
- December 29, 2011 at 8:28 pm
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This is the BEST fucking fractured fairytale EVAH! x
- December 29, 2011 at 9:09 am
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you crack me up lori! LOL
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Random Ramblings of a SAHM: So… now what?
when people are awesome
when people are awesome
Pitcher plants at the second orang feeding station
***
We visit the village that was once on the other side of the river. The entire town was moved to here when their land became protected National Park. This village is called Tanjung Harapan, and the name of sounds like a melody, a short sweet song that rolls off the tongue.
It’s a tiny smattering of houses, most what we would consider derelict- most buildings here, we would probably be reluctant to raise our children in. Most roofs are constructed of hot, stuffy corrugated iron. Others are roofed with the traditional- but undoubtedly more expensive, given that they need to be replaced every two or three years- stitched palm fronds.
We come across a woman making roof panels- folding the older, longer palm fronds in half over a stiff stick, then using the younger, sharper palm fronds to stitch them in place. The woman sits cross-legged on her tiny, sheltered porch, her face serene and smooth like a rock washed over by a thousand waves. Ivend asks her if we can come closer to watch and she responds with a nod and a smile. May we take her photograph, we ask, and the request is translated. She nods her ascent, the same serene smile in place, as though she has seen a thousand tourists wander through her village in her time and nothing we wish to ogle at and photograph has the ability to surprise her any more.
And she probably has a thousand of us, maybe more. This tiny economy of this tiny village is subsidized by the tourists who come through Tanjung Pating. The tiny souvenir shop sells orangutans beautifully carved from ironwood; hats and mats woven from reeds; bracelets made from wooden beads and dried, plaited palm fronds.
The local economy is also subsidised by the same palm oil plantations that are now decimating the orang population. Their power was once provided by a giant, old fashioned water-wheel that revolved over and over, bucketing the water from a small canal into hydraulic energy.
Now, the electricity supply to Tanjung Harapan comes directly from the substation that belongs to the palm oil company.
A smiling man appears from a small, dark house and presents us with beautifully carved statues of orangutans, made with his own hands from solid ironwood. There are gorgeous and we all purchase one, with the maker’s name and the date it was made carved into the base.
“Where can I buy cigarettes?” I ask Ivend, and he replies “Up here. From my auntie”.
The shop is tiny and dark, and a woman dressed in a batik dress is sitting on the floor, playing with her children. With Ivend translating, I purchase two packets of Malboros.
“30 000 rupiah” Ivend translates. I hand over a 50 000 note and shake my head at the shopkeeper as she attempts to hand me change. She glances at Ivend in surprise, to confirm there’s been no misunderstanding, and he assures her there isn’t.
“Oh, terimah kasih!!”- ”Oh, thank you!!” she cries, and throws her arms arund my neck, kissing me on the cheek.
20 000 rupiah is about two Australian dollars, and I feel myself break a bit inside. A sickening sense of my own over-privileged life. Of how much I take for granted. Of how very lucky- how spoiled- I actually am.
Tanjung Harapan
***
Emma and her mum Helen, the two other women in our group, have bought pencils and small clutching koala bears for the little ones in the village. Children are children, no matter where you go, and they swamp Emma and Helen, laughing and jumping around them as they receive their gifts.
We pile back onto the boat and there are a group of boys on the wharf beside us. There’s five or six of them, maybe eight or nine years old. They laugh at the tour leader and I as we pour water over our heads.
“Panang!” I cry out to them, laughing too. “Hot!”
The boys follow us up the river in a small canoe. They laugh in excitement as the wake of a speedboat rocks their canoe. The paddle it in circles with one oar, around and around. There is not a life jacket amongst them, not a parent in sight; and they show no fear.
Children are just children, no matter where you go.
***
The crew on our boat consists of a skipper, his two assistants, and a cook. The cook is an entirely beautiful woman with a lovely, warm smile. And her food is incredible- I find myself eating things I never thought I’d try; because it is all so fresh, so subtly spiced and carefully made.
The cook’s daughter is four years old and reminds me so much of my Bumpy thing, waiting for me at home, that it aches at my heart. Her name is Aya (A-YA) and she’s so well-behaved, in a way I can’t imagine my Bump ever being. But I can’t imagine bringing my Bump for three days on board a boat on the river, either- no life jacket, no stress. No misbehavior. Not a peep to be heard from her.
Aya
I ask Ivend how to say ‘beautiful’ in Bahasa, just so I can tell her “Aya- chanti!!”. She rewards me with a smile like the brightest of sunshine.
Children are children, no matter where they are.
***
There’s a peaceful, happy, teasing friendship now on the klotok- we’re comfortable with each other, things are running exceptionally smoothly.
We begin the journey back up-river toward Kumai, and late in the afternoon, we see the rarest of sights. There’s a big, male orang making his nighttime nest in a tree on the side of the river that’s not protected, not national park- the population of wild orangutans on that side of the river is unknown, but thought to be diminishing rapidly.
We pull the klotok to a stop and the orang watches us, watching him- we can just see his giant, cheek padded face peering over the top of his comfortable bed.
That night we have our dinner on board the boat again. The table is set, as always, with candles and wine glasses for our juice, and the food is delicious. It’s almost a full moon, with no cloud cover, which means the billions of fireflies that normally light up the river are, tonight, down to just a few hundred.
The Sekonyer River at dusk
Not that it matters. I’ve never seen a firefly before and I’m enchanted by the tiny glowing sparks that look like Christmas tree lights in the dense tree cover. They flit in and around the boat, and Garry, the tour leader, catches one so I can observe it. It’s only half a centimeter long and it’s bum, tucked in under it’s dark wings, blinks and glows a bright, neon yellow.
These people- especially Erin, my American roommate- they’re my friends now.
We eat a glorious dinner, with laughter and good conversation, amongst a hundred flickering fireflies; under the swollen, fat bright light of the waxing, luminous moon.
{ 6 comments }
Most days, I am just in awe of my mother. I think she may be the most wholesome, perfected person I know.
When I look back at my childhood, that’s how I picture her- perfect. Consistent. Fair. Wholly dependable. Accomplished and confident and so strong- stoic without becoming martyred.
My mum has always been right there, never more than a phone call away. I’ve witnessed friends with mothers who are not like that- parents who turn their back on their adult children, argue with them, never help them out. I can’t imagine what that would be like, what a difference it would have made in my personality had that been the case with my mum.
She has never let me down.
***
My mum used to draw me teddy bears to colour in when I was tiny. Happy stuffed toys wearing vests and smiles.
***
We always seemed to be short of money. That never mattered, and we rarely noticed it.
“Let’s go for a drive”, my mum would say on weekends. My brother and I, sometimes my grandmother as well, would pile into our huge red Toyota van, leaving my father at home to smoke cigarettes and watch the cricket.
“I’ve always wondered what was down this road…” My mother would murmur as she navigated dirt tracks and fire trails around the vicinity of Paradise.
“Let’s go check it out. It will be an adventure!” And it always was. We’d arrive in a hundred different places, surrounded by scrub or sand or trickling, noisy creeks. Once we parked the car and walked, turned the corner on a bush track only to find ourselves at the very top of a momentously tall, rushing waterfall. We stood and gazed over the rolling valleys of million year old hills as the sun dropped lower in the sky.
***
Discovering your mother is a person in her own right is breath taking.
When I was about eight or nine, my mum came home late from work one night, held up by meetings and other teacher-like responsibilities My younger brother and I had already been fed, and we’re clean and snug, the smell of fresh showers on our hair.
I witnessed my mum making herself dinner in our small, well-lit kitchen.
Making herself dinner.
I don’t think I’d ever seen that happening before, my mother submitting to her own need for sustenance without catering to ours as well.
“What are you making?”
“An omelette.”
“What’s an omelette?”
“Look,” says my mum, lifting me up onto the kitchen cupboard to observe, “It’s eggs, beaten, and you add other things to it, too.”
I remember my amazement. “But I’ve never seen you make that before!”
And my mum seemed surprised by that.
“I used to make them all the time, when your father and I first got married. Before you kids came along…”
And I held that, like a whisper, like an errant thought. My mother was a person before I was here. She had a whole life that she had lived before I existed.
***
My mum has never been one for self-pity. Emotional support and empathy was given where it was needed. But wallowing was not allowed.
I remember having my heart broken for the first time, by my first real boyfriend– the dim blue lights of the school disco illuminating him embraced in a kiss with a girl I couldn’t ever get on with. I remember waking up the morning after it happened, crying in the way only a devastated teenage girl can- sobbing and weeping, heart shattered, life over.
My mum sat next to my bed, rubbed my back while I cried.
“I don’t know what to do…” I whimpered.
“You get up,” my mum replied. “You get dressed. And you get on with it.”
And I did.
And I do.
***
My mum is still an adventurer, and even now, well into here fifties, she is doing all the things she has always wanted to do. Her and my step-father take extended driving holidays, exploring every back-road in New South Wales. She takes her class of school children to a nearby bush camp and struggles with them through the ropes course, zooms along the zip-line of the flying fox.
She’s always wanted to go to Broome, and to Tasmania. To parasail behind a boat.
She’s always wanted to climb the Harbour Bridge.
It’s not something I probably ever would have thought to buy for her- her practicality has been passed onto my brother and I, and gifts are always relatively small, useful, well thought out. Had I not been offered the chance to take my mum on a Mother’s Day Climb by BridgeClimb themselves, it may have never happened.
And that would have been such a pity. Because it was so intensely lovely to see my mother happy, childlike. So excited she was nearly bouncing out of her skin.
It was the most beautifully perfect day- the sun shining, not even the tiniest breeze to flutter the flags at the top of the bridge’s arch. My mum was expecting to be scared, and she wasn’t- the safety protocols are so thorough, the instructor so amazingly friendly, that all my mum felt was glorious exhilaration.
The view is amazing. From the top of the Bridge, you can see for miles. From one side there’s The Opera House, the green water of the Harbour, the deep blue of the ocean past the Heads. The Blue Mountains, the Parramatatta River, the sprawling suburbs stretch from the other.
A fleet of green Army choppers fly in formation directly above our heads, just fifty feet away. They’re close enough that I can see the olive-green gloved hand of the man who waves to us from the cockpit, and my mum and I laugh as we return the greeting.
As we pose for a photo, my mum remarks that we don’t have many pictures of the two of us together, and sadly, she’s right; and I know from painful experience that one day in the future I may regret that.
She’s done so much for me- this is nothing. A few hours compared to a lifetime. A drop of salt into the teal green waters of Sydney Harbour beneath us.
But to give her something back- something like this, something she’ll remember… Selfishly, Ill admit, this was as much thrill for me as it was for her.
I turn to check on her, my blonde mother in her tinted glasses- she always seems to look the same, has done so for as long as I can remember. The look on her face is one of awe, of wonder.
The view from up here, it’s amazing.
The expression on my mum’s face is even better.
***
A huge thanks to BridgeClimb for having my mum and myself climb for Mother’s Day. No cash was exchanged for this post, but the Climb and photographs from the day were complimentary.
My mum and I. On top of the world.
{ 17 comments }
Every time I remember that I’m going overseas in less than one months time, I panic slightly. I am not ready for this. As usual, I’m disorganized, not really sure what I’m doing, and running just that little bit late.
Yesterday I got four needles, two in each arm. It seems trekking into Borneo requires vaccinations for typhoid and rabies (two shots down, another one to go); as well as boosters for tetanus, MMR and hepatitis (one blood test to see if I need them- I did- and one hep shot done, two to follow). And there’s malaria tablets to be taken, too.
I’m on my third course of antibiotics to ensure my burst eardrum is well and truly healed before I get on an international flight; and I’m taking a ‘practice’ flight domestically in a week, just to make sure I’ll be okay.
My mum, being worried about me, as mothers generally are, has managed to make me a million kinds of paranoid about getting sick while I’m overseas (in a country where I don’t speak the language and the medical care is probably not quite what I’m used to… fair call). With that in mind, I’ve taken it on myself to get all health-kicky. Water, good food, walking four kilometres whenever I find a spare child-free hour.
Passport photos. Flattering.
I’ve (finally) gotten my passport and the photo is traditionally awful. Thanks to a reader of mine name Lisa, I have a comprehensive packing list of everything I should take (such a huge thank you to you, Lisa). I’m using Lisa’s list as a master spreadsheet and adding the gear I’ll specifically need for this trip.
I don’t actually possess a lot of the things on either of the lists (and I’m still trying to figure out what a lot of them are… voltage stabiliser, anyone…?). But I’m working on it. A massive thank you to Manda, another reader of mine, who sent me my very own super-tiny-but-packed-with-everything first aid kit.
It’s both strange and lovely, the way the littlest things– like being able to cross ‘first aid kit’ off a list of one hundred or more items– make you feel as though the entire task is more manageable.
I’m planning to blog as much as possible while I’m in Indonesia, but, realistically, that depends on my Internet access. I’ll be MIA when I’m in the jungles of Kalimantan, evidently. So prepare yourselves for an orangutan overload upon my return.
Any fundage you can throw to Orangutan Odysseys are muchly appreciated– click here or on the widget below.
And I’m still most definitely up for travel advice, especially regarding international flying, internet accessibility, local customs of Bali and Borneo, packing tips, and anything else I haven’t thought of yet. Cheers.
{ 9 comments }
Is it just me… – RRSAHM
Is it just me…
….or does this dummy look not quite right?
The big hole in the middle is freaking me out….
Leave a Comment
{ 7 comments… read them below or add one }
- March 15, 2010 at 11:49 pm
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Sarah I dunno, it's a nuby one,a friend gave it to us. I hate it. it just looks gross….
- March 15, 2010 at 4:50 pm
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Is that one of those raspberry teether ones? We had one that look like bump's & it was just freaky.
- March 15, 2010 at 7:32 am
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Oh, she is beautiful.
- March 14, 2010 at 8:49 pm
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Totally freaky, but they seem to be the way they are making them now – not sure why.
- March 14, 2010 at 7:16 pm
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Nope, not just you…that looks very weird!!
- March 14, 2010 at 2:54 pm
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the big hole in the middle of the pacifier? That's how they make 'em now. My kids had a green one. It's ever weirder to watch their little tongue suck on it. Eww!
- March 14, 2010 at 2:20 pm
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Yep, that's a bit wrong
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