For better or worse

What a week it's been. I cancelled the egg donation because the agreement was that she covers expenses incurred in the process and, well, she didn't. For the sake of $1,300 odd she threw away over 15k (by my estimate) and her last chance for a child. Did she honestly think that her breaking our agreement would ensure I still donated? What about our agreement for after she had a baby, would she have broken that one as easily? Why would I allow myself to be out of pocket and still give her my DNA? Seems ridiculous.

So, I went to Tassie anyway, I could after all and so flew down Saturday, shopped, got a massage, relaxed at the hotel, took myself out to dinner on my own, dressed as a 1920's flapper (read my book) and then took myself off to the partayyyyy. By 2 am I was in tears, I'd walked the length of Hobart in 6-8 inch stilettos and I was being falsely accused of having "stolen" a feather boa.

I had been up and going since 5am but still, Jesus H Christ.

2 hours sleep and flew home.

Found out that I lost my job over the egg donation saga and so now, I'm just trying to catch up on the housework.

Still think I need a beer Ramon? Or should I go for something stronger?

On the way up..

Well well, the egg donation saga is continuing however, there is now an end in sight and frankly can't wait!! What started as a cheap way to get good karma, help someone else and generally do all the things to get good karma that you need to do has turned into 7 months of hormonal hell. It's ok, by Saturday it's all over. Sadly Saturday is a close friends birthday, in Tasmania. I have booked my tickets and hotel but whether I get to use them is up to my ovaries whch is interesting, I know some men are ruled by their testicles and some women choose to live by their ovaries and ticking biological clocks, but I never thought I'd be trapped into that kind of living. Huh. Just goes to show.

By this time next month I should be able to look over this blog with shame in my heart and guilt on my mind, it doesn't matter that I have never done the wrong thing in deed, I did think about it for a second. I have been selfish, rude, overreacting to everything and generally horrible, I have also been drinking too much, smoking too much, eating too much, thinking of myself too much and generally being a shithead in all ways. But I am lucky. I have friends and family who love me beyond anything I deserve and just hope that before this time in my life ends I don't have another down moment that ends it all.

If the good karma depends on me having handled all this shit with grace and flair, I'm screwed.

Rock bottom

I've hit it.

I decided not to act on the crush so give me some credit for that at least. Now I am in saving my sanity mode which requirement was brought to my attention last night and this morning, last night I just kept thinking "I quit". I cooked dinner but yesterday I had both the kids at home (Angel boy, 4.5 yrs old and Pixie girl 13 months), Angel boy has tonsillitis and so spent 2 days on the couch, in my bed and wherever he felt like laying down and watching TV, he got cuddles and rides in the pram since he wasn't feeling well enough to walk, I got up every 5 minutes throughout the night to get him drinks, I stuffed him with multivitamins, penicillin and pain killers, took his temperature every 15 minutes and silently howled when it was above normal by half a degree (that's a lot of howling!).

So, yesterday, he shit my bed, give the poor kid credit, he thought it was a fart and with everything going on in his little system right now, well, I guess I'm not surprised, and he tried to clean it up by himself until I caught him, got him cleaned up and then I fixed the bed. He's sweet my little man. His sister had a royal shit, that went everywhere. So, I spent my day elbow deep in the stuff. Yay me.

Velvet gets home and since I'm not talking to him this week he looked at me warily and asked softly how my day was. So I told him, I cleaned up shit all day and then I cooked (in my best fuck off voice). He quietly tip toed through the war zone that was our lounge room and I poured my first bourbon. *sigh* from that moment, he folded washing (I asked him to since was sitting in front of it watching TV and I was going out to get some more toilet paper), he bathed the kids and he fed Pixie girl and he cleaned up the kitchen.

I know you're thinking I should be grateful but sorry, just as fucking well was my thought! If I wanted to be a single mum, I wouldn't need him would I? And one reason why I am not talking to him is his comment a few weeks ago about babysitting the kids while I was at the gym. THEY'RE HIS KIDS TOO! You don't baby-sit your own kids.

Yes, he was at work all day, I was running around after 2 kids, so, if anyone says he deserves a rest when he gets home I'll have to kill them, I, too, deserve a rest but unlike him leaving work, I already am home.

I still don't have a job and bloody hell, I need one. I'm going mental.

The thing that happened this morning was; I left my hand holding a bowl full of soggy weetbix near enough to Pixie girls foot that she could kick it, all over the carpet. I lost it. I had been asking Angel boy to get dressed and eat his breakfast for 45 minutes, I had just wrestled with Pixie girl and her epic shit (all the way up her back this time, you'd think her nappy is changed every 24 hours the way she fills it!) and I was fast losing my normal sweet and even temper. Well, the weetbix went everywhere and so did my sanity, I think I saw it split. I swore, in front of my babies, I swore long, loud and with enough feeling that I could have made a wharfie blush.

I knew then that I better make a concerted effort in finding a new job. The rejections have been tough this week but I have to keep picking myself back up and moving on again.

My poor family, having to deal with me while I'm not working, I can't imagine it's easy on them either.

We have yet another fun filled weekend planned, dinner with friends tonight, swimming tomorrow and I'm not sure what else. Frankly, I don't care, I just wish Velvet would open his mouth and start a conversation with me that doesn't include "how was your day" "Mine was normal" or any other trite, I'm having a conversation with someone I don't know every well to be polite kind of starter. I'm tired of starting all the conversations that talk about "stuff", you know, stuff, how things are, how he feels, how I feel, our opinions on things. The conversations we had back in the day when he wanted to impress me. Mind you, if he shaved every day and showered on weekends again I'd be damn impressed!

My word!

Well, I'm a mother so what do you expect when I see this blog hasn't been updated since last April and NO ONE SEEMS TO CARE! Besides my beloved co blogger has already utilised "Oh bother" this year and that writes it off for me I guess.

I'm in a state at the moment, I'm going to mediation with my ex employer (a large Telecommunications company that made me redundant while I was on maternity leave (legal I'll have you know, yes I was shocked too) but they also lied about me and I don't like that.). Anyway, mediation is on Wednesday, Jobwatch won't help because I'm not a guaranteed winner and this large Telecommunications company is going to trot out a whole heap of spurious complaints about my work while conveniently forgetting the accounts I saved, the customers I impressed and the account managers I kept in work because I either took the blame for their mistakes or I covered them up so the customer never found out (not to mention that crap I hid for management).

Let's add to that my current unemployment, 2 children (ye gads! Full time mother material I am NOT!), bills to pay etc and so on. I could also mention here a friends messy divorce and my subsequent poisoning as a shitty side effect, IVF egg donation going skewiff and having to be restarted and my sometime dedication to the gym with another girlfriend of mine.

Plus, the list goes on, I currently have a crush on a man not my beloved (don't worry, he doesn't know and neither does anyone else, except you of course and we shall keep it that way ok.).

That's not all but when is it ever?? I do have some good news of course, Michael Jackson is dead. Yes yes he was a genius and I have some sadness but my sadness is for the MJ of the 80's not the one of the last 20 odd years who has been a complete freaky scary dude that I would not let near children. Yet they have given his kids to his mother. WHO DO THEY THINK RAISED MICHAEL JACKSON???? 'tards. Those poor kids, out of the frying pan and into the fire.

I have done some cooking lately but nothing to write home or on here about and my children are still alive. I love them, I really do. Why do they seem to only have one volume though?? LOUD!

I'll write in detail another day, today, I have to walk the dog, cook dinner, pick up the kids, finish the vacuuming, do some washing and finish applying for a job outside my field but here's hoping!!

Oh bother!

And fluff and stuff, as Winnie the Pooh would say (you know, the original from the book, not the cartoon series).

The outside of my apartment block is getting a re-paint. I made sure I left all the windows unlatched to assist in this, even though it wasn’t requested. They have done an abysmal job. Masking tape to ensure clean lines? Oh no, they don’t need that – and clean lines? What are they? We received a letter the day they finished painting our windows saying that we needed to co-operate and open our windows, etc. if we did not do this, it would be our own fault. My windows have been painted shut. A couple of them have actually been painted open. I left them all open anyway. How is this my fault? Is there anything they can or will do to fix this? Probably not.

The beautiful branches of the trees in front of my apartment that have offered unrivalled privacy as well as their shelter, insulation and shade in Summer have been callously lopped off – solely to allow said painters to get their scaffolding up without putting the effort in to actually maybe, you know, tie the branches out of the way. I’m almost more livid about this than I am about the shonky painting.

They raised my rent $130pcm this month (something I know I’ve already moaned about, but it’s actually happened this month – and we did get someone out to have a look, etc. etc. – they said we should be paying more than our landlord was actually raising our rent to!).

I’m studying photography but hating the school I’m at. I just want my diploma and then to walk away and forget any of their horrible administration blunders (which I encounter on average, ever fortnight) ever happened. This also means I am incredibly uninspired to do anything with my photography at the moment. Which in turn means I am uninspired to do anything at all. I rocked up late to work (because they don’t really care, thankfully, or I’d be out of a job) simply because I couldn’t be bothered. And now I’m here I still can’t be bothered. But I need the money.

I can’t afford to buy a house because I’m not qualified in anything that could earn me a better wage than I’m getting now. I also can’t afford to buy a house because house prices are rising exponentially. And any house that I would actually want to buy is getting snapped up by greedy developers who will knock it down and turn it into 12 apartments they can milk for exorbitant rent – not because they NEED to, because the CAN.

This situation is making me so upset, livid and out of control I feel sick. And there’s not a damn thing I, or anyone else, can do about it.

Damn the Man. He doesn’t care and I’m hard pressed to find anyone else who does too. I mean, we’ve got refugee camps, global financial crises, un-necessary wars, not enough contraception, too many people - and too many of those people dying, not enough healthcare or education and no-one seem to care about any of that either – so my little problems fade into insignificance.

Weighting, waiting, weighting

Last May I joined Weight Watchers. I wasn't happy with the size I was, even though I wasn't, by any stretch of the imagination, obese. Or even, to a lot of people, fat.

Since joining WW I have lost 12 kilos, which leaves me with a measely 6 kilos left to lose. Hooray!

Except now I have hit a bit of a bump in the road. I haven't been to any WW meetings in a month and I haven't been eating healthy.

So this bump in the road. The few followers of this blog are saying, sure, these things happen, no biggie, we believe in you, etc., etc., give us more lowbrow drama to fill our heads with cottonwool. Sorry, not today people. I have an 'issue' and I need to vent is somewhere. This is why I love the FART cart.

I don't actually remember the last time I was happy with my weight. I have been chubbier than I've wanted to for years. It's always been at the forefront of my mind and it has wrought havock with my self esteem. However, I have recently come to the realisation that FAT is not actually my issue. It's my family's issue. To be even more precise, it's my immediate family and my extended family on my father's side.

Now when I say that, I don't mean my family are all obese - quite the opposite, for the most part. What I mean is my family are obsessed with NOT being fat. They must do everything in their power to stay skinny! And if you get even a little bit chubby - lookout!

Just for a basic introduction to the kind of fat my family is against:

• Over a ladies size 14,
• Anything except a flat, washboard stomach Ms McPhearson would be proud of,

Uh, actually, that about covers it. However, conversely, you are not allowed to 'lose your femininity' by working out too hard and gaining too much muscle. Nor are you allowed to lose so much weight that you look gaunt and underfed.

So you know, that leaves a pretty narrow window. And completely forgets about essential items like genetics, hormones and age.

On both sides of the family (which means we can't get away from it. Ever.) we have genetically programmed into our body-type code, A Bit Of A Belly. This means that I will never, ever have a flat stomach. This is a fact I am now, after years of agonising and worrying, happy to deal with. My family on the other hand, can't quite come to terms with it.

Actually, I tell a lie. Once upon a time I did have a flat stomach. I had been sick for 10 days and hadn't been able to eat in a week. I lost 7 kilos in that one week and I was way too skinny.

Also, for those of you not in the know any woman, in any given month, will gain and lose weight, sometimes kilos at a time. This is natural and healthy. It's called hormones. Deal with it.

I also have a cousin who is rather obese (you don't want to end up like her do you?) and an aunty who was obese and has now joined the must-be-skinny obsession.

So for my whole life I've had this FAT = BAD thing stamped into my subconscious. And I'm now old enough and wise enough to put is behind me (well, ok, it's a slow process, but I'm getting there).

So my parents are coming back from a rather long hiatus overseas. They're coming back this Friday. This means I will now have my two biggest influences in my life back in... my life. You know what I mean, much closer quarters. And they are ecstatic that I've started getting fit and healthy. And they have been wonderful and supportive throughout. The only problem is, their version of 'supportive' takes me straight back to my teenage years. Allow me to explain.

I started swimming for exercise - it's a great, no-impact, sport where I don't have to compete against anyone but myself - my kind of exercise. So then my parents kept asking me, being all enthusiastic, 'how many laps have you done today?'. 'Have you been for a swim today?' Which made me feel exactly like I did when I was in highschool, 'have you done your homework?', 'have you tidied your room?'.

Now I know they're just excited that I'm getting into life, etc. However as soon as they start asking me these things I all of a sudden feel obliged to do it. For them. It makes the whole thing no longer my own - it's not mine anymore, I'm doing it to make them happy.

So I deliberately 'fell' off the wagon. Out of spite to my parents. That's right, ladies an gentlemen, a relatively sane 27 year old woman behaves like a 16 year old girl in a frump. Headlines headlines.

*sigh*

At least I know why I did it.

And I was talking to a friend about this as well. She suggested that I cut them out of my get fit/weight loss thing altogether. So they would not be allowed to ask me how I'm going or what I've been up to. If I wish to share my progress, successes and losses, then I will. But they would no longer able to enquire.

To me that sounds a little harsher than I'm willing to do all at once, however she put it very nicely, I've been giving ground to my parents my whole life, doing what they want me to do, behaving they way they want me to. I'm allowed to shut a few doors occasionally.

Regardless, I'm starting again today and I'm hoping with my fingers tightly crossed that I have, at the very least, not put on in my month-long holiday from reason - I've still been exercising a bit, just not eating healthy (I love cheese, what can I say?!).

Happy short week everyone :)

Playing catch up

Well, not only did I not rise to my own challenge, I completely failed to follow through on any of the rest of my NZ antics... Ah well - it was fun. I got to meet and observe another family up close enough to see their own little familial foibles - it's nice when you can see everyone else has strange families - even though it's one of those things everyone knows. There was much NZ geography experienced and enjoyed, and plenty of relaxing. If you want more information, let me know - otherwise, it's April now people, let's move on :)

Another word following on from Witchie and Victoria's natural disasters - there were a few very minor earthquakes in Melbourne not too long ago. Nothing monumental, but I have now felt my second earthquake ever. The first one was that horrendous one in Newcastle in the early 90s (or nearabouts, I was young - I don't remember - we were on the outskirts anyway, I just get to say I was there, makes me sound worldly and impressive*).

Other than the above, things that have been happening: I performed at the Palais last Thursday and the Corner Hotel last Sunday (act impressed now). Both performances were amazing and heaps of fun - if you want to learn more, go here.

My latest exciting news is that my parents are returning from their overseas galavants and adventures - this means I no longer have to be the buffer for my sisters' angst and issues, yay! I can now safely return to dealing with my own angst and issues and tidying my house (yes, I'm still tidying Witchie - you can't come over yet) in relative** peace and quiet.

So... if anything else exciting comes my way, I'll let you know - until then, don't do anything Witchie wouldn't do :)

That is all.

Except for the footnotes.

And this sentence***.

*It does because I say it does.

**Hur hur ;P

***Ok, I know, I'm not as funny as I think I am - as long as I can amuse myself then everything's cool.

Saturday 7th of February

We saw a fire. It's still going and now we have lost people, entire towns, animals of all sorts.

Devastated does not come close.

Well.....

We're still waiting for the other chick to blog before I do, no idea why except, maybe, she mas more interesting stuff to say and I figure we should get her shit out of the way before I join in with my drunken shenanigans!

Yeah, blog you tall, umm, (crap, thinking).... ummm.... tall..... person you!!