The BIG FIRST Day!!!

What can I say the last two months have been crazy- so much has happened but undoubtedly the most memorable has been that my son has started Kindergarten.

His first day at school was on the 1st February 2013 and I shit you not, I did not sleep for three days before hand. I was up and going through every possible scenario that a slightly psychotic and very anxious mother would. What if his teacher is a bitch? What if his classmates are little shits? What if he is not as smart as I thought and falls behind? What if, what if, what the fuck if???? I was doing my head in and my husbands’ head in and my sister’s head in!!! And at one point I realized that my son was being affected by the negativity and anxiety, which he was picking up on.

But regardless how much you stress or how much anxiety you may suffer- time does not standstill and before I knew it, it was the night before. I showered my son and put him to bed. I tucked my daughter and husband into bed and I sat up biting my nails for half the night once again killing myself with the what if! ideas that had plagued my thoughts for the past month.

The time ticked away and it soon hit 7:30am. I reluctantly woke him up and reluctantly dressed him and reluctantly fed him his breakfast. I reluctantly put him in the car and reluctantly drove him to his first day of school. I didn’t want him to go- I wasn’t ready. Why does he have to go school? I started to get angry. This is a true story- I was angry at the system that makes me take my son to school. I was angry at myself for not doing a teaching degree instead- maybe that way I could have considered home schooling options and cut his hair myself.

When we arrived, I took him into the hall, sat with an admin lady who looked through his forms and made sure that everything was done right and then she led us to his classroom. We met his teacher and I led him to his seat. I had been crying and as I was as I looked at him I didn’t see excitement in his eyes I saw fear and I saw a yearning for me to stay with him- or that’s what I thought I saw anyway.

I left and went to my car. He only had a half day and as soon as I left I started to call my husband and my mum and my sister, who had all been with me when I left my son with strangers and walked away. ‘He was unhappy wasn’t he’, I asked my sister. ‘No. He looked fine to me’, she said. What would she know, I thought. I called my mum ‘He looked unhappy didn’t he’. ‘No’, she said. ‘He looked a little nervous but that is expected. He told me he was happy’. What would she know I thought. I called my husband. ‘He looked upset didn’t. His teachers looks like a bitch, doesn’t she? That girl in the table behind him was eyeing him out- maybe she is a bully and has him in her sights’. ‘No! no! and no!’, he said. ‘He will be fine. He is happy and he is in good hands. Now relax would you??’ What the fuck would he know? I thought. I’m his mum- he is just the dad.

That day I didn’t go home- for real. I figured that there was not point taking my then 11-month-old daughter home for a nap or a proper feed. I would just make do with what’s in the baby bag and I’ll do drive through until its time to pick him up. I drove around his school about 16 times and even though I knew that on the first day they would not be letting the kindergarteners our to the playground I still tried to find him when the recess bell rang. For someone looking on, I undoubtedly looked like a sick pervert but I figured if the police did come and start asking questions I had a valid excuse and had nothing to fear. That day my daughter napped in her car seat and ate in her car seat and I changed her in the back seat- and even though I was thinking of my son I also started thinking how hard it would be to live out of our car- very hard.

It hit 11:30 am and I decided to get there a little early. I got to his class and was happy to see that there where other parents who were already there. I guess I wasn’t the only anxious parent!! When it hit 12pm- I couldn’t get into the classroom quick enough. I saw his face and I breathed a sigh of relief. He was fine. He was happy, he wasn’t hurt and he was even talking and laughing with some of the other kids in his class. I spoke to his teacher, who seemed too strict for my liking- I knew she was a bitch I thought. What I should have thought was that I was psychopath who had to find a negative amongst all this positive.

As soon as I had him by my side the questions started- how was your first day? How did your teacher treat you? How did the other kids treat you? Where they mean? Where they nice? Did you eat your lunch? What did you learn? Can you read yet? And they went on and on and on…

He answered them all patiently and happily. He had a great day and he loved his classmates and his teacher. ‘Are you sure she isn’t too mean?’ I asked for the hundredth time. ‘No’, he replied. ‘She is soo nice’. I still had my reservations.

As I’ve gotten to know her better and seen the improvements in my son I’ve realized he was right. She is fantastic. His classmates are adorable little kids and each and every parent at one point or another has had their fears and anxiety in relation to this significant milestone in their child’s life.

My son has excelled and I’m so happy that he has started this part of his life on such a good platform. I still get scared and at times its really hard but it was such an important and wonderful transition, and I was so glad I was there.

These are some of the things that I have taken from it:
– Be positive. Even when all your negativity is hitting you hard try and remain positive.
– If you can’t be positive all the time, at least stay positive and feign excitement in front of your child. Kids are so smart and they pick things up without you even realising it.
– Do your research- despite my minor breakdown what made it a little more bearable for me was that I had done my research beforehand and knew that if I was to let my son go to school- at least he was attending a good one.
– Reach out- I used to call my sisters late at night and tell them about how I felt. I explained my fears to my husband and even at times discussed it with mums I had just met. You will feel better for it.
– Talk to your child. In the midst of this transition we sometimes forget that maybe its not only us who is afraid. Discuss with your child how they feel about this new chapter in their lives.
– If possible attend orientation and any other introductory day before the first big day.
– The most important one of all is too believe in your child. Believe in their ability to make it through. They are much stronger than we give them credit for and we sometimes overlook their resilience. Believe in them, love them and they will thrive.
– And if that all fails pay an older kid to look after them- I hear $2/ per day is the going rate (Joking- I paid some girl $1 ;))!

More excited than me!!

What do you do when your kid swears? Have a cup of decaffeinated tea.

The first time I heard my son swear we where at the local supermarket. I was with my sister who was walking with my son while I was on the other end of the shop buying what I needed. If I remember correctly I was standing in the cleaning product isle trying to make up my mind which of the 350 different washing detergents would be do the job. As I grabbed what I needed, I heard it and I was mortified.

My son had reached the toy section and as an expression of joy he had raised his hand to the sky and was repeating ‘oh fuck!!!’ over and over again with a big smile on his face. He was just over 2.

I dropped the bottle back onto the shelf and ran. I covered his mouth and told him that we don’t talk like that- all the while apologizing to the people around me. He just laughed and continued ‘oh fuck!’ at 100 decibels while I chased him trying to quiet him. My sister was laughing hysterically.

When I reached the counter the sales assistant said ‘excuse me but was your son saying what I think he was saying”. I should have told her to mind her fucking business instead I started justifying the situation. ‘I swear ‘, I started, ‘I don’t talk like that’. But I was lying; I do talk like that- I talk like that all the time. So now I was a liar and a bad mother- this is becoming a habit don’t you think. 

I went home and told my husband- he blamed me. I told my mum- she told me not to worry too much and that he would grow out of it. I started blaming his cousins and his friends and my sister was still laughing.

My son is now almost 5 and he loves swear words. He doesn’t do it openly but I see the absolute glee on his face when he sneaks in a word that he knows he should not say. I have tried everything from screaming at him, to speaking to him calmly. I have placed him in the naughty corner and at times smacked him. I have explained to him firmly that ‘We don’t speak like that in this family’, only to swear at some dumb person who just won’t drive faster a few day later.

http://www.newser.com/tag/27823/1/cursing.html

I have read articles that have blamed me stating that ‘children emulate our behaviour’. Those articles told me to always be on guard about what I say and how I say it. I’m sick of articles like that- fuck I’m a parent. I have the hardest job in the fucking world and sometimes, consciously or unconsciously I might say a word that society frowns upon. Is that so bad? I need to vent people!!!

I’ve read chapters that have had professionals that give me permission to swear and have encouraged a more clear-cut approach. I’m the adult so I can say whatever I want and you’re the child who can’t say anything that I haven’t pre- approved. They tell me to explain to my son that he is allowed to speak the way he wants when he gets his license. Yeah, one problem, my son doesn’t know what a license is- so that didn’t work. (Although I prefer such articles because they take the blame off me). 

I’ve had complete strangers pipe up and tell me how I should respond to my son when and if he says a swear word. It’s fucken exhausting!

The truth is my son won’t grow out of swearing. He is likely to continue to swear until he is much older- like his mother. However he will learn, like I have, when it is inappropriate to speak that way and when such language, if ever, is accepted. I will continue to teach my son about the awesomeness inappropriateness of swearing. I will trust my abilities and myself and I will do what I think is best for my child.

For now, however, I’m going to tuck my children into their beds and than have a warm cup of decaffeinated tea because I need something to help me with this fucken flu that will not leave me the fuck alone!!! 

Creating memories- despite the hard work!!

So yesterday morning we went out to breakfast with my sister. We had planned a quick one and then a lazy Sunday at home, but once we were out we didn’t have the heart to waste the beautiful weather, so we decided to make the most out of the day and take a trip to the beach. My daughter had never visited the beach and I was eager to see how she would handle the surf and sand.

So we quickly went home and packed our stuff. We only needed a few things*.

So after a few hours** of getting ready, our car was overflowing (to the point where my husband had to drive his car as well), we finally headed to the beach.

We arrived and unloaded the bags, and the port-a-cot and the toys and the.. you get the picture.

It was a beautiful location but there was no shelter and I had forgot to pack my daughters hat (apparently tanning lotion was more important- no ‘mother of the year’ awards here). I set up the port-a-cot and slipped, slopped and slapped my children and myself. I placed a sheet over the port-a-cot and hoped that that would provide enough shelter for my baby.

After we settled I realized that my husband had disappeared. I wasn’t sure if he had went in for a dip, but after an hour I began to worry and decided to call him. ‘Where was he?’, you eagerly ask. He was at Bunnings. I should have known- I lose my husband at the beach, where else would he be if not Bunnings- his second home.

He came backed laden with new things- like a beach umbrella, more fold up chairs, another esky. I thing we should have bought a bus instead of an SUV.

Any who the day resumed and boy was it exciting. These were the highlights of my Sunday:

• My daughter had her first day in the sun and sand and I think she loved it. She is currently teething so her emotions and face expression are a little confusing.

 

• She happily played in the sand- and as she does with everything else she grabbed a handful and put it in her mouth. My husband and I assumed that if she put it in her mouth, she would dislike the texture and taste and not repeat it. We were wrong. She loved both the texture and taste and continued for her second serving- one of the perks of having a good eater on you hands. When we said no and blocked her hand from her mouth she chucked a tantrum.

                        
                  
      

• We had set up around the top part of the beach and as my son relaxed in the shade- while sunbathed  a few metres away, my fantasy of drowning and being saved by Daniel Craig as he rises from the ocean as he did in ‘that part’ in Casino Royale, were interrupted by the screams of my son. He had spotted a sand crab and was certain the creature, which was the size of his palm, was going to attack and kill him. I can’t really blame him- my fears have rubbed off on him, the poor thing. With a chicken shit mother like me, the kid didn’t stand a chance.

• As mentioned above- I decided to tan, and I’m pretty sure that all the people on the beach that day put on their sunnies when I exposed my legs. I did manage to tan- so yay me.

• My favourite part of the day however, was when four random boys approached me and claimed to have been bitten by a jellyfish. At first I was genuinely worried, but soon realized that they were being smart when one of the boys grabbed his crotch and said he had been bitten on the penis. I then took on the part of a concerned adult and grabbed my phone and pretended to dial 000 because, I said, they needed medical attention and the paramedics would need to administer a needle the size of a small goat to rectify any damage caused. One smug little shit laughed and assured his other little shit mates that I was bluffing so I admitted, that yes, I was bluffing. I hadn’t called the ambulance because there was no point. The Jellyfish had bit him in his private area and that he would ultimately be transformed into a girl- The look on his face was priceless and I was proud of myself. 

We played, swam, ate and relaxed (and in my daughters case even napped). When we got home we were exhausted and the house was a mess after we all showered. I now have a load of washing and no doubt the car needs a clean, but what’s important is that we created memories and bonded as a family- and that makes all the other hard work worthwhile.

What exciting things did you get up to on your weekend?

* By a few things I mean everything we own.

** slight exaggeration 

Let go and you shall receive

Last Wednesday I woke up at 5am. I got ready, packed the kids in the car and headed to my sisters house. Her and my niece where waiting for me. We packed the car and started the hour or so journey to Wollongong- it was my niece’s 21st birthday and as her gift my sister had brought her a sky diving session. My sister was driving to Wollongong to watch her daughter jump out of a plane at 15000ft- with nothing but a few clips and a piece of fabric to save her- and she was doing so willingly.

We arrived at our destination and my niece was prepared for her ascent and her eventual descent. My sister did not bat an eye lid.

My niece was taken on the bus to the airport where she boarded the plane. We where waiting for my niece to land and I was hyperventilating. I am a very anxious person!! I have a tendency to think worst-case scenario before anything else, and as I was freaking out and my sister was enjoying the scenery.

When my niece finally landed and we started to scream and celebrate what she had just achieved, I envied my sister (in a good way). I was jealous of her ability to allow her daughter to take risks and I started thinking about the day when I will have to let my kids go.

I once read that raising children is a process of letting go. From the moment our children are born we start preparing them for life- essentially their life. We feed them, we nurture them and we educate them and then they get to an age where they need to be themselves (and we need to allow them to be themselves). This petrifies me. My son will no longer want my cuddles, and will probably start getting me to drop him off one street away so the other kids don’t see me. My daughter will probably think I’m the biggest dag and will not allow me to dress her the way I want (which is why her wardrobe is ridiculously big at the moment- because this is probably the only chance I’ll get to dress her the way I want to).

It is undoubtedly a process not just for my children but also for myself. The process of preparing our children for the world is a process in which we prepare ourselves to letting them go, and this process starts earlier then we think.

I will not have to wait till my son is 21 and throws himself out of an airplane to let him go, I am actually in the process of letting my son go at the moment. He starts Kindergarten next year and a few weeks ago he had his orientation. To say I was petrified was an understatement. All thoughts of potential outcomes crossed my mind- what happens if he gets bullied, what happens if he doesn’t do well in school, what happens if he doesn’t make any friends, what happens if he is a bully, what happens if he gets into fights and is disruptive in class.

My son will not wear what I ask him to wear and he wants to grow up to be wolverine and Jackson Beiber (no, not a typo- Jackson Beiber is his creation- essentially half Michael Jackson- Half Justin Beiber).

However, I need to accept that this is his journey. He has to take it and I have to let him take it.

My daughter has also started a transition- she can say no now. If she doesn’t want to eat something by God I will hear about it. I can’t just feed her what I want. I have to listen to her. This is a form of letting go, no? It’s not what I want- it’s about what she wants also.

She is crawling (more like flipping) and does not want to be swaddled when she sleeps. She isn’t particularly fond of cuddles and no matter how much I a try to cuddle her, she will not have it.

We learn to let go before we even realize that we are doing it and what is a fundamental lesson here is not our ability to let go, but rather the need for us to realize that our children are independent beings. Our job fundamentally is to provide the foundations- the foundations being love, respect, and support.

I can’t guarantee what my children will become. I can’t guarantee that they will be doctors, or lawyers. What I will guarantee is that I will be there every step of the way on the journey that is their life.

Letting go is not a cop out it is a realization. We realize the uniqueness of our children and we choice to embrace that uniqueness, rather then suffocate it with our rules and expectations. Rules and boundaries are essential, but don’t let them impede of the wonderfulness that is your child/ children.

How does the thought of letting go of your children make you feel?

If you like what you read please comment. If you didn’t like what you read please comment. For real comment. I mean it, COMMENT. Thank you xx

Brains and Pains: Why I forget??

It’s been almost a month since I last spoke to you and I’m sorry. It’s not you it’s me. I’ve been cheating on you with another (actually with another 3). I know- I’m a cheat. But I just can’t resist them- 2 in particular!! I just can’t seem to let them go and they will always have my heart and will always be my priority. What do they have that you don’t have you ask?

Well they are much more affectionate then you- they hug me, and tell me I’m beautiful. With you it’s just me telling you about me? (Which isn’t that bad I must admit). Unlike you, however, they like to cuddle. They give me warmth and smiles and memories. Who are they you ask?

They are my family- my husband and my two babies. They have kept me preoccupied. Its funny because I started this blog as an outlet for myself- so I could share my daily struggles and joys with those who are interested in reading them (and I really, really appreciate every single one you)- but my life has got in the way.

In the last month I turned 29, my daughter was hospitalised twice, my son once. My mother travelled overseas to one of the hardest journeys she will probably ever take in her life, family revelations have surfaced, old relationships have been broken and new ones forged.  

However, as I sit here trying with all my might to recap the significant occurrences of the last month, I’m struggling to do so in-depth. I can’t, try as I may, remember everything that has happened this month- even the important things because its all a daze, and, since I’m being honest, my life has past me in a daze for the past few years. I know I have achieved things, and I know I have succeeded in certain areas but I can’t remember them and so I ask- if you cant remember something does it still exist or has it been wiped out as if it never happened!! If the answer to this question is yes, then you could say I have nothing to show for the past 5 years!!

http://theconsciousdiabetic.blogspot.com.au/2011/02/forgetful-pregnancy-moments.html

I have a major issue when it comes to remembering things- I can’t remember appointments, birthdays, coffee/lunch dates, dinner dates and anniversaries. Most women have husbands who forget their special dates- my husband remembers every single one and I am surprised when he presents me with gifts on the day we got engaged and the day we got married. I just think he is being nice and rewarding me for all my hard work. He doesn’t get upset anymore, but I do. 

I’m so forgetful. I remember that I used to have this problem when I wasn’t yet a mother. I’ve always forgotten things- but now its reached absurd levels and I’m waiting for the day when I forget my kids somewhere. I forget to return messages, I forget to return phones calls, I forget why I’m in the kitchen and I’ve even forgotten why I’m in the bathroom (yes it’s happened- maybe my bowels change their mind on the way there). I forget what I was going to say in an argument or conversation and this causes major frustration because later when I’m alone I remember all my awesome comebacks or valid points. Not good when you’re a graduate solicitor. I need my arguments to be solid and points to arrive on time. 

I feel bad for my friends- because I forget to return calls and messages and they think something is wrong. I feel bad for my husband who is constantly trying to help me remember why I’m in the bathroom and I feel sorry for my kids because they are probably going to go hungry one day because I’ve forgotten to feed them, but I’ve discovered something- that has both reassured and frightened me- I’m sick. Yes I’m sick- I have a disease. My disease is known as mumnesia and its real. I can label it so I’m happy- I’ve been diagnosed (albeit self diagnosed).

 (http://www.crazyworkingmom.com/2010/09/age-doesnt-make-you-forgetful-does-it.html)/p>

As I was writing this post I decided I’ll research forgetfulness in motherhood and would you believe it so much has been written on the subject (I’ve previously forgotten to research it ;)). I came across an article titled ‘Forgetfulness is a normal part of motherhood, says scientists’ (By: Barry Wigmore*) and if a scientist has said it must be true- right?

According to the findings, mumnesia is in fact a medical condition.

“Researchers have documented it scientifically and found the key factors which cause the memory failures, including hormonal changes, tiredness, and the stress of having to look after a new child”. Tick, tick and tick!!! 

Perhaps the most interesting explanation for forgetting everything after having kids is that “forgetfulness is part of women’s defence mechanism after the pain and rigours of childbirth”.

The research points out “If our memories didn’t fade, we’d never have sex again.” (and we will NEVER procreate). So my forgetfulness is attributed to my hormones, to my lack of sleep, to my children who are constantly attached to my hips and to the excruciating, mind numbing, husband punching and drug taking pain that delivered those children into this world- and why do I forget; only so I can do it all over again. Mother natures a bitch!!  

In conclusion, I suffer from a disease called mumnesia. But don’t cry for me- I will survive. I will make it through the daze that is currently my life. I will remember why I’m in the kitchen and I’ll definitely remember why I’m in the bathroom (I mean how hard will that be- after all there are only two options really). I will return calls and messages and I’ll spoil my husband on anniversaries. And when I finally start to remember, I’ll forget the pain and probably do it all over again!!

 * http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-526329/Forgetfulness-normal-motherhood-say-scientists.html

Its my party and I’ll cry if I want to!!!

It was my birthday on public holiday Monday. I turned 29- and it was a disaster. Or it started out as one anyway? And I will admit it was all my fault (sort of).

Sunday was a perfect day- I got my gift early and I was pleasantly surprised. Sunday night was also nice. My husband brought home a little cake with the number 20 candles burning. Was I offended- no only because I once read that ‘A diplomat is a man who always remembers a women’s birthday, but never remembers her age’. So my husband is a diplomat.

I then went to bed and I was happy.

BUT then I woke up on Monday morning and I was foul. I was in such a bad mood and I made sure the whole family knew about it.

I was edgy, angry and uptight and the fact that my kids woke up earlier than normal did not help the situation. What made the situation even worse is that while I woke up, and toiled and feed and changed and dealt with tantrums, my husband was fast asleep on MY birthday morning. WTF!!!!!!

So while I ran around after my children, all the while listening to my husbands snoring, the anger festered, and boiled and I stormed into the bedroom, woke him up abruptly and shouted that no way was I going out with him today. He jumped up, completely stunned and speechless and he stayed in that state for maybe 5 minutes.

He then wearily responded, ‘what happened?’. This is where I blame myself.

Instead of just explaining what my problem was and how I want him to get up and help me with the kids- I just shouted that I did not want to go anywhere and that I DON’T WANT TO talk about it. He jumped up and started cleaning the kitchen and looking after the kids, but I wouldn’t budge. I was not going (I’m a little stubborn).

For my birthday I had suggested that we spend a family day in the city. In all fairness to him he had tried to convince me to do something else, but I was adamant that I spend the day with those people most important to me- and who is more important than my kids. But now that the day had arrived I was angry that I had to spend my birthday doing something for someone else- even if they were my children. I blamed my husband and I had lost my shit.

My son had already been promised a day in the city and by this point he was super excited. He was dressed and talking to himself about how much fun he was going to have. I told my husband to take him on his own. My husband started to reason with me but I said no.

After he had left I was angry because he actually left- ‘you left me’, I thought.

But not long after he had left, he came back home. He had spoken to my sister who took my son to the aquarium along with my niece who was also celebrating her birthday (we share the same birthday).

I was still angry and unreasonable so my husband left, while I laid on the couch in my P.Js.

Then my saviour, my voice of reason when I can’t see reason and my best friend came. My sister S has an effect on me that I will never be able to express in words. I love her to bits. I had a rant and rave and after she calmed me down, I called my husband and told him I was ready to go out and celebrate my birthday. It was 2pm by this point.

He came home we got dressed and we went out to the habour. We had a wonderful lunch.

As we sat there eating I started to think of the time that I had wasted this morning being angry- I honestly have spent a quarter of my married life being angry over things that really didn’t deserve it and then I started to think about last years birthday and the birthday before that and I realized a patten- I always wake up angry on my birthday. I really do wake up angry every single birthday and I decided to explore this concept- why do I wake up angry on my birthdays? This is what I came up with:
1. Maybe its because I’m getting older
2. Maybe its because I expected that I won’t have to get up at 6:30am and maybe have a litlle sleep in.
3. Maybe its because I expected to not have to make bottles and change nappies.
4. Maybe its because I didn’t want to argue with a 4 year old over whether he should eat cookies or cereal for brekfats
5. Maybe its because I use Facebook way more than I should (this point deserve sub- points)

a. I have a tendency of believing everything I see on FB. I assume that if I see photos of someone out at dinner or out at the museum their whole life is about dinners and museums and pretty things.
b. So I then sit down and become depressed about my life- which I must say is not that bad- but it is hard to find the time to do such things. Looking after kids is a full time job (FB Fantasy- definite a topic for another blog).

As I write this blog however, and my theories as to why I wake up angry are written down, I say to myself Shut up you whining bitch. Some people crave to wake up even on their birthday and change nappies and deal with tantrums and make bottles and wipe arses. Because those arses are the arses of the people that will (hopefully) love me forever, and they are the arses of the people that I will (undoubtedly) love forever- some people crave this kind of connection and Im complaining about having it. I have completed two university degrees and worked at numerous places. But nothing amounts to the pleasure of having two wonderful children, whom I adore and to an equally wonderful husband who I (sometimes) appreciate.

My sister in law sent me a message on my birthday saying Happy New Year- I laughed at first but now I think it was wise. It is a new year in my life and I resolve to appreciate what I have and wake up happy on my next birthday (I’ll just be a bitch every other day of the year).

Violence against women: A tribute to Jill Meagher.

When I decided to start a blog I wrote a long list of topics that I wanted to write about. Rape and Murder were not on the list, but today I feel compelled to write about these topics.

I sit here cradling my daughter as I write this blog and I’m apprehensive of the world that she will get too know. I admit that I am a pessimist but I’m also extremely naïve, and even though I always jump to the worst possible scenario for even possible situation, I always give people the benefit of the doubt and genuinely believe in human good. But as I write this blog I am doubtful.

I never knew Jill Meagher but she has affected me in a way that I can’t describe. My eyes well at the thought of what that beautiful woman went through. What she endured all for the sick twisted satisfaction of a man she didn’t even know. The CCTV footage of her final moments is perhaps the most heartbreaking thing because you see how she hesitates for 20 secs or so and you just want to jump into the camera and yell at her to run, I mean literally run for her life.

Her eyes are mesmerizing and her smile speaks a thousand words. I see a woman who loved life and was loved throughout her life. My heart breaks for her husband and family and I offer my deepest condolences to all of those who knew and loved her.

Violence against women is a true and important issue, which we must all be aware of and actively strive to eliminate.

Women’s health Victoria has reported that women who have experienced violence are more likely to suffer from mental health issues and ongoing physical conditions. In Victoria:
• Violence is the leading contributor to death, disability and illness of women aged 15 to 44 years,
• One in three women experience intimate partner violence in their lifetime,
• Women represent nearly 90% of reported rapes and 76% of reported sexual assaults.

Men are the main perpetrators of violence against women, and predominantly men known to them. There are influences within Australian culture that encourage a tolerance of violence against women and discourage men from taking responsibility for their violence. This is evident in the reporting of violence, representations of women, and conviction rates for crimes involving violence against women. (Source:http://whv.org.au/what-we-do/violence-against-women)
We live in a patriarchal society in which some men feel that they are above the law, above social codes of conduct, and above women. Well they are not and it takes everyone to make sure that this behavior is not accepted or ever encouraged.
In a 2012 report conducted by the Australian Human Rights Commission, it was stated that almost every week in Australia one woman is killed, the crime being committed by her current or former partner. This is often after a history of domestic violence. These intimate partner homicides account for one fifth of all homicides. (Source:http://www.hreoc.gov.au/sex_discrimination/publication/UNSRVAW%20report%202012/index.html)
The statistics are staggering and as a woman it hurts me to think that other women live like this. Women are victims of abuse on a daily basis. I have taken the initiative to read and educate myself about the plight of women in these positions, and to anyone who reads this blog please do the same (I have included links below).

Violence against women in any form is simply unacceptable and should be highlighted. It exists, it is real and it needs our attention now.

What you can do?

• Start by taking the White Ribbon oath. “I swear never to commit, excuse or remain silent about violence against women this is my oath”. http://www.whiteribbon.org.au/myoath Go to the link and swear now. The Oath goes beyond just clicking a button. It’s a symbol of your commitment to stand up for the women in your life. Its an active statement which you make to the world. Its your chance to be part of real, positive change. (http://www.whiteribbon.org.au/myoath)
• White ribbon day is on November 25. It is a day to remember victims of violence. So buy a ribbon and wear it in remembrance of women like Jill, whose lives were cut tragically short because of violence. Let us unite together and take a stand against such behaviour.
• Listen. Listen to those women around you. Don’t just listen to their voices, listen to their actions and behaviours and if you feel something is not right then simply ask ‘are you ok?’.
• And finally educate yourself so that when such women come into your life you have the basic knowledge to help and support them.

Raise your boys to respect women, to love women and to see women as their equal. DON’T IGNORE VIOLENCE STAND UP TO IT. FIGHT IT. REJECT IT.

On a final note, I say to every woman who reads this: on your next night out, be sure to have fun, but make sure you stay safe. Let us learn from what happened to Jill. Make sure you catch a cab. Don’t walk home unaccompanied. Be cautious and don’t let your guard down. It is a sad way to live, but this is currently our reality as wonderful Jill found out ever so tragically. R.I.P Angel and to everyone else, in Ellen’s wise words ‘Be nice to one another’ xx

Resources:
– Australian Human Rights Commission http://www.hreoc.gov.au/index.htm
– Amnesty International Australia http://www.amnesty.org.au
– Domestic Violence Resource Centre Victoria (Australia Wide) http://www.dvrcv.org.au/support-services/national-services/
– Wesley Mission http://www.wesleymission.org.au/Services/counselling/Domestic_Violence.asp
– NSW Women’s Refuge Resource Centre http://www.wrrc.org.au/contactus

I wish: I spoke French

I was at Ikea a few days ago. I love Ikea but I was at the end of the trip and I could see the checkouts in my midst. I was so excited. As I struggled with the storage box which was uncomfortably lodged under my arm, all while pushing a pram jam packed with other things (that I probably didn’t need) and my poor baby poking out from underneath it all, everything went silent around me. It was like those last few meters in a 20 km Marathon. Those few final minutes when everything slows down, and the crowd cheers and you know your going to make it (told you I was delusional http://peaceandmeltdowns.com/2012/09/12/its-all-about-the-seefood-diet-baby/).

I was almost there and as my right arm lost all sensation I heard it. I heard it and my delusional moment disappeared. All I could hear was that sweet sound. That sweet, sweet sound that made me stop in my tracks- despite the awkward twist my body was now in, despite that pain that had now turned into numbess and was seeping into every corner of my body, despite the fact that my precious daughter was drowning in IKEA products.

What was that sound you ask? French. Yes French. The French language has always done something to me and as far as I remember I have wanted to speak French. I love it. I love everything about it. I love that no matter what you say you sound like you are singing a song and I have never heard a French person who had an ugly voice. I can listen to them talk all day. Maybe my love for it comes from the fact that my second language is Arabic and let us just say that it is not the prettiest sounding language.

 

You could be telling someone to eat shit in French and you will still sound polite – va bouffer ta merde. Or I could say tu ma fais cheir. I’m sure you are blushing.  DON’T BLUSH. What I’m really saying is you are pissing me off so leche mon cul (kiss my ass). Amazing!! I sound polite even when I’m being a bitch. Maybe I should argue in French. Maybe my husband will listen if I argue in French??

Anyway, so I stopped and started pacing. I wanted to interact with these women who were speaking this beautiful language. My beautiful sister S refuses to go out with me because I have this habit of approaching random people we don’t know and talking to them. She thinks its embarrassing- I see it as me acknowledging the wider community they I am apart of and if someone speaks a beautiful language goddamn it then they should know it.

I started to mentally contemplate the ways in which I can open up a conversation with these wonderful women, with their wonderful children and their wonderful voices.

So I turned around and said ‘Hey, I just wanted to tell you how much I love your language”. They stood there not saying a word. “I love the French language”, I repeated. ‘Yeah’, one meekly replied. I was embarrassed and I felt rejected so I done the only thing I think of these days- I grabbed my iPhone. I dropped the under bed storage box from under my arm, I threw a few other things into the pram and I pulled out my iPhone. “See” I said, “I love it so much that I have even downloaded the French app”. They mumbled something in French, grabbed their children and with a sympathetic smile they left (or maybe they ran). I stood there with the box on the floor, my daughter crying by this point and the iPhone French app telling me that mardi means Tuesday. My sister would be smirking right about now. She would have been telling me how I deserve the rejection because I should not approach people that I don’t know.

Oh well, I thought. I will continue learning my French (when I find the time) and I will become as ignorant and fierce as they are- but for now a laid back, stranger approaching weirdo I will stay. 

What do you wish for?

Mothering and the constant wish for moments of nothing

So Friday was here and I was excited. I love Fridays. I had plans- really cool plans for the weekend (then I remembered that I had 2 kids). So those plans flew out the window.

 Regardless, I made plans. I picked up my phone and checked the predicted weather. Really good weather was predicted. So I called up a few people I knew (I am connected you know) and started organising a day at the park. It was organized and I was happy. Didn’t sleep out of anticipation- yes I know; I have no life.

 Anyway I woke up first thing Saturday morning and the first thing I noticed was that my daughter was sick. Great start to the day- nonetheless I persevered– this day will not be ruined!!! I feed K and E and after a few tantrums I got them into the car (our very small car- cram packed with everything we owned) and off to the park we went.

 We unpacked and prepared everything for the arrival of my sisters and their kids (Ok I lied- I’m not connected; I’m related). They finally arrived and we had a great day. E had her first push on the swing and she loved it. K made friends with a group of boys and played soccer. I thought What an awesome start to the weekend.

 

I then got home and the pain started. I had gotten sun burnt and not just any sun burn- the really painful kind. And I looked ridiculous. I had stupidly forgotten to put sunscreen on. I was in pain- but through the pain I had to organize dinner, bath the kids, clean the house, pack everything the kids own (because it had seemed by this point that I had taken it all with me to the park) back into their cupboards/ drawers/ boxes or wherever else they go and attend to E which by this point had developed a really bad cough and was choking on her phlegm. I think I didn’t sleep that night.

 Not to worry, I thought Sunday is a new day. My sister messaged me and we organized a quiet day at another park (my life is riveting). This time I was sure to slip, slop, slap. Again I packed and prepared the night before. We had a great day.The kids played, I had ‘relaxed’ (I use this word loosely) and we returned home.

So I get home and quickly bath and feed E- she falls asleep. This day is getting better. The Gods are on my side. So obviously its now Ks turn to bath. I leave the water running and go to attend to other things (because my things never end and I’m a multi-tasker). I finished my things, sat down to watch some tv, phoned a friend and after that I got a little hungry and decided to make myself a sandwich. As I walked to the kitchen I heard the bath tap still running- shit and Fuck and shit and fuck. I ran but it was too late.

The bath had overflowed and my bathroom had flooded and water had escaped into my corridor and saturated my runner. OMG- Why God? Why God? Why???

 As I started the clean up I thought ‘Why is it that every time I feel the luxury of nothing is seeping into my day something like this happens and takes it away? Why is it that every time I finish the housework, I look up and the house is messy again? Why is it that every time I feed and bath K, he does something to dirty himself and I have to change his clothes again? Why is it that every time I feed, dress and bath E she poops and I have to get up and change her nappy? Why is that every time I do the washing my husband comes home and he has done something crazy and his clothes have gotten crazy in the process? Why is it that everyday I think today is breezy something like this happens to fuck it up?’

My answer to these questions is simple- I’m a mother that’s why and one of the perks of being a mother is that you never have a ‘boring- nothing’ moment and nothing is ever easy. I used to hate being bored and doing nothing- now I crave for those days when nothingness visits me- even if only for a few minutes.  

 

(Photo source:http://lifehacker.com/5901013/in-defense-of-procrastination-when-to-prioritize-doing-nothing) 

Its all about the SEEfood diet Baby.

Its all about the SEEfood diet Baby..