The crazed ravings of Splinter (Tony Castley)
Another year ….. it seems to go so fast. The day passes without comment now. I don’t expect the children to remember, there is no need for them to linger in sadness ……today is mostly for me.
Its been 4 years now, since I lost my little girl. This year has perhaps brought it into a little more focus. This year I moved states, and removed any chance of having more children. It all seems so final. I wasn’t …. and I am still not ready.
Happy birthday Isabeau ….. mummy misses you.
After my many, many ….. many problems with my health, struggling with my hormones, coping with my girly works becoming so unreliable that it was making me ill all the time. After fighting peri-menopause, struggling to fall pregnant and failing, and facing the fact of no more children. And after fighting doctors tooth and nail for the last 2 years for some sort of definative answer. After all that ….. today I finally got an answer.
After moving here, I decided to try again, and so I saw a new gyno today. The poor man looked at the novel sized pile of documentation I gave him, and looked more than a little startled. I was a little more forceful with what I wanted from him …… a hysterectomy. He listened to me, asked some questions …. and showed a great deal of shock when I told him the opinions of my previous gyno’s. He quizzed me about my hormonal issues, which I was a little reluctant to mention, for fear that he would insist I try chemical control methods (yet again).
And finally he looked at me and said … “Well obviously its a no brainer. I feel the best management would be a complete hysterectomy and estrogen implant”. Not only is he going to give me the hysterectomy I wanted, but he offered to remove my ovaries, therefore removing the major cause of the other symptoms that I have suffered for nearly 20 years.
I stood at the reception desk to pay my bill, and I was shaking. I held it together until we got outside his rooms …… and then I had a good cry on hubby’s shoulder. This is what I have wanted for years. I have a chance of being able to have a normal like life, and quite possibly, some of the PCOS features in my health will be gone.
So …. in a little over 2 weeks time, I will have my mum here to look after me, and I will be starting the next phase of my life. I am scared, but incredibly happy.
Is it possible to be both?
Well, I have to say that this mother’s day has been lovely, but probably not what hubby wanted to do. We have been so busy, with moving in, sorting out the house, kids etc …. and just generally freezing our bits off …… that he really hasn’t had time to organise anything.
I did receive one thing from my little boy, that hubby thought was memorable enough to blog. Mr6 wrote me a poem, which is now stuck on the fridge.
Mum I love you because: …………………..
* you buy me dessert
* you make up jokes
* you are beautiful
* you are like the sun
* you are like a berry in a tree (apparently I am sweet)
* you are lovely like the stars in the sky
Mr6 watched me read this, and then I put it onto the fridge. He looked at me and asked me, “Did it make you cry?” I have to admit it did a bit, but I just told him that it made me feel very special. He was very pleased with himself.
Moving is a tedious job, fraught with dangers at every turn. Hubby’s study, in particular, is a mine of disasters waiting to happen.
So here is our weekend, me sick and in pain trying my best to be helpful …. while hubby decides to “tidy” his study. This monumental effort usually involves throwing out copious amounts of paper, magazines and computer bits (that he will suddenly need 2 days after he throws them out).
It also means he will return the various bits that others have leant to him. So he happily removes a piece of hardware from his machine, in preparation to return it to a friend. Hey presto …. Windows barfs itself … and he appears to have lost huge volumes of photos, including the pictures from the latest wedding. It’s hard to feel sorry for him …. especially when he will drum it into less computer literate friends about the need to back up.
I won’t say I told you so babe ….. but it was a substantial lesson. 😉
Australia has an interesting tradition. Just before easter children are encouraged to convince their parents to make them easter hats, which they will duly claim as their own wonderful creation. Among the more competitive mums, this (keep up with little Paige/Brittany/Apple’s) hat race can develop into a stoush that could rival big brother. The following creation is a combination of big sis’s painting, my cutting (tough card) and weilding of the glue …. with the little munchkin doing the sticking part.
Family re-unions are always fraught with the fear of disappointment. Families fracture and move apart, and when they come back together ….. the pieces have grown and moved on …. so they never quite fit again. Sort of an ancestoral jigsaw. Children have grown up, but older members forget that, they only see the child. So the domineering and overly paternal attitude grates, and threatens to fracture the family again. And heaven help you if you are labelled “a disappointmentâ€. The ties are no longer as binding, and todays generation don’t feel the same driving need to maintain relationships like previous generations. A stressful and fastpaced life means I don’t feel the pressure to maintain anything outside my direct line.
I met up with a long lost cousin. Like me he never really fitted with the family dynamic….. I ran away, he probably did too. I didn’t have many memories…. A tall gangly teenager, with wild surfer curly hair, and a slightly bemused patient smile when he had to deal with the attentions of two preteen girls. An older big brother cousin, who didn’t tease or torment me, didn’t call me fat like my other cousins.
And now …… in ways he’s very different, and much the same. That same bemused smile when I start rabbiting on. A smile that reaches to his eyes, and reminds me so much of a favourite uncle (and godfather). But like me he has changed, like me he proabably hasn’t liked all of the changes. The curly hair is gone, and not quite so gangly. As I have grown, he doesn’t seem quite so tall. But still change is good. It remains to see how this new jigsaw will fit together though.
To my darling husband,
Yet another year has passed, one of many. Sometimes it feels we have been married forever, at other times its hard to believe its been 17 years. As usual our anniversary has been lost in a sea of birthdays and preparations for xmas, but you must know that this day is incredibly special for me ….. because its today that I got to tell the world that I loved my best friend.
Happy Anniversary sweetheart.
Well, its Saturday night and the neighbours are having a party.
Nothing unusual you say … and normally I would agree with you. This street is a great street …. a combination of young families with babies, a large extended arabic immigrant family, a couple of christian asians, some guy with a horse trailer we never see, an extremely weathly buddist family and normal old us. On the whole a quiet and peacful bunch. However the arabic family next door are prone to some very loud and well populated celebrations.
And tonight … they are having an engagement party. So along with the incredible volume of people talking and singing, you have this fabulous modern middle eastern music …. accompanied by the occassional arabic yodelling (what on earth is that actually called?). And thankfully tonite the dog has decided it does not mean the world is ending, so I don’t have to lock him in.
I hate to say it but compared with your average Aussie BBQ, full of the sounds of dunk the stubbie, drunken fights and late night renditions of “Kaysan” …. its a lovely background noise.
Now I know I shouldn’t subscribe to the classic blond stereotype. And I have enough intelligent and sensible blond friends, to know that not all blonds are dumb. But really, my neighbour should be shot for adding to the blond stupid name.
Picture this. Blond is 35 weeks pregnant (plus carrying a fairly young hernia scar). Blond see’s 300L fridge on the footpath. Blond waits until husband is in bed, and then moves said fridge into garage while hubby is sleeping.
Now am I the only one who’s see’s the folly in this? 😆
Well …. thats the last of it.
Today I delivered my stroller to my cousin for her gorgeous baby daughter. Yesterday I had the garage sale, sold all the baby toys and nappies. Then I bundled up what was left and delivered it to the Salvos. I have kept a few things …… the rocker, the high chair that attaches to the table (cause they are handy when babysitting), the cradle (an heirloom). The pram still hasn’t sold, but I will be putting it in the paper next week.
*sigh* ….. I have no baby stuff left in the house. No baby seat or booster seat in the garage. No toys or duplo. All the soft toys are gone. Even Elmo. Feel just a little lost and empty.
😥
Hubby had a blah day today …… and decided to solve it with slightly more than half a bottle of wine tonite. Now witnessing this is always a reminder of why he usually doesn’t drink.
He has a low body weight, and a fast metabolism. This means that the alcohol hits his system fast. Within a hour of starting drinking, he is moderately incoherant and having to concentrate on not running into the furniture. 2 hours? …. and he is explaining to me why he isn’t as think as I drunk he is. Overall the effect is milding amusing and ever so slightly annoying. See, being a big girl …. it takes a considerable amount of alcohol to get the same effect.
And worse of all, thanks to a fast metabolism … he will have processed all the alcohol before bed, and therefore won’t have a hangover ….. which stinks! 😡
Fish and visitors go off after 3 days. This is a favourite saying of a friend. And frankly …… I have had it with fish.
I haven’t had a week to myself (or with hubby) …. for months now. I am run off my feet with work and school, and when I get home, I seem to have a never ending stream of relatives using my home for a motel. More frustrating, hubby is forced to treat our home like a motel. His travel interstate means that the poor man is bombarded with concentrated wife troubles, coupled with the knowledge that all things ….. ahem 😳 … personal …. have been seriously disrupted. Roll on school holidays ……. maybe my visitor will go visit someone else. We can only hope.
This is my darling son’s latest favourite statement. This last week or so, everything I receive, in one way or another …. is as a direct result of being special.
two kisses goodnight …… because I am special
big hugs at school drop off …… because I am a special
special picture from school ……. because I am special
It makes you feel all warm and toasty ….. “I love you mum …. cause your special”.