The wheels don’t go round, they fall off!

So yesterday the wheels fell off a bit for me. It marked twelve years since my father died and honestly I sometimes miss him so much it is a physical sensation. I know he would have completely adored my children, they would have made him so proud. The fact that my mother could not be arsed to realize how wonderful they are makes it that much worse. A lot happened yesterday, not least of all D forgot it was the anniversary of my father’s death. I may have let that slide if I didn’t remember the date his dad died and make a big effort to be supportive every year. I was not feeling much love for him last night.

Now a confession. I have been walking around telling people I don’t care. I don’t care that my mother hates me, I don’t care that things are crap right now, I don’t care that I get treated like a lepper at work, I don’t care that people are selfish and inconsiderate. Truth is, I do. I care so much that my chest is tight and I feel like I am never more than moments from losing it completely and just having a nervous breakdown. I can’t though. My job is to keep shit together for my kids and for D and for myself to a large degree.The fact that I can keeps me sane and makes me want to bang my head on the table in equal measure.

I get that reading my blog may lead you to believe I am neurotic and completely unbalanced when the truth is that in person I am the most even tempered and calm and happy person as a general rule. I am really good at the whole happy façade and I am often told how idyllic my life looks from the outside. If only those people could see my in the morning in my mismatched pyjamas, baby drool hanging from my unbrushed hair, no make-up to hide my bad skin, while yelling at D and swatting a wayward child and trying to check Twitter all at once. Sigh.

I am very much in limbo right now, but this will make more sense in time, when the things that need to happen do and I have an actual story to tell. I am stuck between old and new right now, anxious, unsure and more than a little scared. I know things will work out, I have absolutely no doubt but the getting there is a nerve wracking process.

I know I am rambling and for this to make sense there is so much more I need to say (write) but for right now I can’t for numerous reasons, not least of all that arsehole Murphy who lurks whenever I get too confident about something good. Soon the pieces will fit together and it will make sense.

I just feel like my mind is too loud right now. I am constantly three thoughts ahead of myself even. I don’t know what or who needs more of my attention and at times I just want to scream to calm my own internal dialogue. Maybe I have finally cracked? Is this what crazy feels like?

I want to be like the mom on the cereal ads, the one who lovingly looks on as her children eat their breakfast, not the ranting lunatic moaning that what I have given them is all they are getting and they WILL eat it because they HAVE TO eat before school. I want to be delighted about Mycaela’s friendship with Kwezi instead of thinking my child is being brainwashed by an eight year old know-it-all. I want to tell Haedyn to kick the little shit who calls other kids names in the nuts so hard he will never have children instead of telling him some children are just mean because they are jealous. I want to want my own life more right now.

Truth is, all I want is 24 hours of solitude, silence and chocolate. Too much to ask?


Monday ramblings

I must be the only person on the planet who looks forward to Monday like it is Christmas. Our weekends of late have been the furthest thing from pleasant for the last two months or so. With the atmosphere with my mother we end up holed in our bedroom with little more to do than stare at the tv. As I am sure you can well imagine, this close proximity and lack of freedom does tend to heighten the ‘fight about petty crap’ senses. It has been rough, I do wonder sometimes if we will actually still love each other when this is over.

I don’t want to spew details of the situation with my mother, suffice to say however I do not give a hairy rat’s arse how she treats me, I am over it, I am beyond caring and I have wasted enough tears and angst on that specific issue. What KILLS me is her indifference and sometimes nasty treatment of my children. They are her grand children yet she has described them as mistakes and the worst thing I ever did to my family. Yes. That folks is why she has gone too far this time. My ten year old told me the other day that he thinks he understands why some children are mean even though they have lots of nice stuff. Intrigued I asked him why he thought they were mean. He told me maybe their mothers treat them the way granny treats me, and they are mean because they are sad. My heart broke, knowing that I have exposed my child to this level of nastiness.

Now for all my faults, and I know I have many, I have as far as is humanly possible tried to surround my children with love. The fact that they now are experiencing the same worry over wondering why someone doesn’t love them that I did has made me realize that this influence is no longer welcome in our lives. Grandparents are supposed to dote on and adore their grand children. Now I understand it is different because my kids have lived with my mother for so long at intervals over the years. My feelings remain the same, they are just children, children are naughty and they deserve better than to always be yelled at and looked down on. They deserve better and will have better. I will make sure of it.

It brings home to me the idea of how relationships evolve and change all the time. My mother and I have had periods where we have gotten along really well, but there is always this vibe boiling beneath the surface. I have never shared my most intimate thoughts with her. There are a thousand things she doesn’t know about me or my life and she never will. She has no idea the things that have happened to me to make me who I am. My older sister and I used to be best friends, these days she is like a stranger to me. She has no time for me and often I feel judged by her. I feel as though she only sees my mom’s side of everything and she feels I am the one who is wrong. That is ok, another progression or evolution of a relationship. I know she has been through a lot and she has a lot going on in her own life, I truly do understand. That doesn’t mean I don’t miss my sister. My younger sister and I recently made peace, we are not exactly braiding hair and talking about boys but we are talking, it helps me feel like we have grown up a bit. I think with everything else I am now ready to let go of the past on all fronts. I need to forgive her and myself for everything that has happened. It is just time. My brother is a different story. I am not ready to even begin to explain my feeling around him, suffice to say he and my mother have been lumped into the same category for now.

The evolution of my relationship with D is quite something. It is the single most normal and ‘grown up’ relationship I have ever had. We argue and disagree but we always come back to loving each other. We are comfortable and open with each other. Honestly, I have never been so honest with anyone, ever. He loves me despite my imperfections, he weathers my moods and smiles through the hard times. He holds my hand when all I want to do is give up and he believes in me when I can’t find the strength to care. I know we sometimes take each other for granted, I think it happens when your life is as full and crazy as ours’ is. I always know though that he is my safe place to go at the end of the day. He always knows how to fix things for me and as lame as it sounds he keeps me grounded. He reminds me to let go sometimes and is the calm to my frantic, the laid back to my control freak and the honest to my sarcastic. We balance out so well which makes parenting, running a household and basically just building a life together so much easier.

Relationships are hard. I wake up every day and have to choose to love him. I have to choose to work at what we have and I have to do the work. I often see people who say they are tired of being single and find myself wondering if they know how much easier it is. Then at night while I moan about my day with my head on D’s chest while he rubs my back and makes all the right noises, I realize what they miss and why they want to be involved. I wouldn’t change what we have for anything, it is not easy but then nothing worth having ever is.

Right now things are a bit tense and life has not been all moonshine and roses. I have no doubt that this will change. Things will get better. I will do what I need to do for me and for my family. I need to get over whatever sense of duty or guilt binds me to my mother and make decisions for my children so that I can break the cycle and prevent them growing up feeling inadequate. They are perfect, to me anyway, and I never want anyone to let them believe otherwise.

So folks I have to believe, if only for my own sanity, that from here it is onward and upward.


Failing at life

I am having the kind of day that has me feeling as though I am failing at life. My morning started  with being kicked in the back by Blake who had snuck into our bed at some point during the night. Okay. Not the end of the world. Get up, wake kids, make breakfast and school lunches. Mycaela doesn’t want breakfast, follow argument on why she needs to eat before school, enter sulky face. Storm out of kitchen, now less than charmed, walk right into mother, suffer evil glare for mere existence, escape to bedroom to find clothes for the day. Follow shower, talk to baby, get dressed, chase kids to brush teeth etc. Time to do Mycaela’s hair and I notice, for the second day now, she is wearing a dirty school shirt *sigh* I ask, why if she was asked yesterday, when I let her go to school with a dirty shirt as I am lazy like that sometimes, is she wearing a dirty shirt AGAIN today when she has clean shirts in her cupboard. She glares at me, no answer, just glares. Crisis this child will drive me to drink I swear. This lead to me wrestling her into a clean shirt, while she cried and acted the injured party. I believe there was a threat about being wacked with a hairbrush and being given a reason to cry. I get to the point where it is now time to brush and tie up her hair. Why has your hair not been brushed I ask, again to no response. My resolve cracks a little more and she is told if she cannot look after her hair it will be cut short like Haedyn’s.


After all this it is now 6am, yes folks, 6am *shock* Time now to heard children out of the door, hand littles to nanny and get on the road. Tell nanny to please not do washing as the electricity is low, I have already spent an insane amount on electricity so feel either the mother or brother should have a turn to buy, and tell children to start heading to the car. Haedyn has decided today is a good day to take with him the entire contents of his bedroom. There were pillows for a sleep over, a cricket bat and soccer ball and some bags and other random paraphernalia, he was so loaded with crap that he actually got hislef stuck in the front doorway. Queue rather heavy sigh from me and less than polite mutterings under my breath while pushing him out of the door. It then of course takes him an age to get into the car and some more harsh words about just where he is shoving all his stuff. Side note, the back shelf is not an ideal place for a bag when it blocks the view from the rearview mirror. Already edgy, I get in the car, finally, and we are on our way.


Drop kids at the aftercare teacher’s house, who will drop them at school at a more appropriate time, spend a few minutes silently seething at D’s serious lack of sensitivity over a conversation we had briefly. Try my level best not to smack him upside the head while he keeps talking the biggest load of crap to fill the silence. Meh. Log onto Twitter on my phone, click on a link to a blog that literally has my crying until I cannot breathe. Enter another inane argument with D. *Sigh* Put on make-up and do best to send off ‘I do not want to talk’ vibes. Stop at petrol station to buy headache tablets. Get to work. Start working at twenty past seven, while watching my tea turn cold.


Notice that though we start work at 8 am, no one logs in until wells after nine, seethe quietly at my desk. Listen to very loud conversations in languages I do not understand all around me. Feel like I am working in a taxi rank. Get customer’s details from marketing, call customer, get told how useless our company is. Deal with irate customer, I actually agree with what he is saying. Send email to powers that be to rectify situation, this was at 9am, I am STILL waiting for a reply. Witness high levels of apathy and incompetence in department.

Listen to colleagues discuss everything from the Anthony Hamilton concert to their sex lives, loudly, inappropriately and in vernacular, with enough English for me to get the idea all the while wondering why I am the only one doing any work.

On that note I may be leaving this department shortly, but another post for another day.

Have stilted, luke warm chat with D on Whatsapp. Almost feel guilty for not liking him much right now, remember he has been a dick lately and resort to resentment over guilt.

It is now half past one. I have managed one break, which was a whole five minutes to make tea. I am in the worst kind of mood, now improved my one of the “ladies” in the office having taken her second hour long lunch break for the day. I am tired of doing all the work, I am done listening to them carry on like this is a social gathering and not a work place, I am angry and their lack of caring and professionalism and I am generally well over this place right now.


I am over fighting with my kids, done wishing D would catch a fucking wake up and be less grumpy and more considerate. I don’t feel like pretending to be nice to anyone and most of all, and this is why I feel like I am failing at life, I feel really fucking guilty for not feeling all warm and fuzzy and grateful for what I have.

I want my baby back

No apologies for not being around I find it trite and insincere. Life has been busy and hectic and I have been keeping with the whole if you have nothing nice to say, rather say nothing at all. Yes. Well. Last week started with both Kyra and Blake being very sick, think anti biotics, nebulisers and a lot of snot. I spent Monday and Tuesday home nursing my two babies. By Wednesday they were back to being happy and smiley and I felt as though I had been hit by a truck. Today my chest is still tight, I am still coughing and I have no voice. I am hoping my voice returns soon as my job involves a lot of talking.


On the home front, things remain the same. My mother still ignores us, we still generally keep to ourselves. It is miserable and no way to live but it will reach a head, possibly sooner rather than later.


Now the real stuff. Why did no one ever tell me just how hard being a mom is? No one tells you when they hand you a cherubic little bundle that that same bundle will break your heart, frustrate you, be your biggest achievement and still be the thing that you most feel you have failed at all at the same time? Why the hell do we think colic and reflux and getting up at night are hard?! I hate to break it to those with kids five and under but THAT is the easy part. It doesn’t get easier. Hell give me 21 years worth of nappies and bottles and cute baby cuddles over the actual each age to 21.


Those who follow me on Twitter will know that last Monday we experienced and incident where Haedyn took D’s Blackberry, without permission and he lied about it. My heart still constricts a little thinking about it. They were leaving for school/work and Haedyn took the phone out of the bag and put it into his pocket. D called his aftercare teacher to ask her to check whether he had the phone. He lied to her about it being a friend’s phone and he lied to us about having it when we asked. When, after much threatening about there being more trouble for lying, he confessed to having taken it and gave it back to us I did not have words, I actually just shut down and cried. D and he had a long talk and it comes down to him wanting to be cool like his friends at school who have fancy phones.


My issue is he asked if he could have the Blackberry and we discussed at length why I don’t feel he is ready to have one. He is ten for heaven’s sake. I do not feel he has the emotional maturity to be given free run of the internet and I do not believe he is responsible enough to own an expensive phone. Hell we still fight about keeping his fingernails cut. I explained to him that I am not being spiteful and he agreed that I make decisions because I love him and am doing what is best for him. Yet still, he took the phone, basically disregarding everything I had said, like a big eff you mom, I am going to do what I want regardless.


My heart aches. All I want, all I ever wanted was for my kids to be able to come to me with things, to not feel the need to lie and steal. I only ever wanted for them to be good people, honest people. It makes me sad that he feels pressure to be cool and that he thinks stuff makes you cool. I am sad that he couldn’t talk to me instead of going behind my back. It makes me sad that he has affected my ability to trust him now. How will I ever believe what he is telling me? What kind of mother am I then if my first thought is always going to be that he is lying to me?

Frankly, lets go back to getting up every hour at night. Let’s go back to projectile vomit and runny poo squelching from a nappy, let’s learn to talk and walk all over again, let’s go back to potty training and the days you thought I knew everything. I want to snuggle with you and watch Nemo. I want my baby back and I don’t want to have to deal with lies and stealing and a bad attitude.


Why didn’t anyone tell me it would be so damned hard?!!