Sunny Side Up

If it wasn't for the nights

noreply@blogger.com (Being Me) — Sun, 26 Feb 2012 08:38:00 +0000

Okay, while you read this, you've gotta do something for me. It might go against every grain of sensibility in you. But... will you make an exception? And play the following clip?

The short of it is, this is just about my most favourite ABBA song. It's one of their best. I could listen to it every day and not get sick of it. But then... I was a MASSIVE fan back in the day!

Go on... hit play... if you're not tapping some part of your body or trying to sing the chorus by the end, well.... it's lost on you ~~(and let's never speak of my adoration of ABBA again, in that case)~~:

The long of it is, at the moment it's kinda bloody true! See, I'm going really well - I haven't cried for Pepper in days now, it's been a week and a bit since I helped her go to sleep on our kitchen floor.

Thing is, though, even though I saw that big ol' needle going in and held her head on my hands and reassured her to her death, I have been haunted by dreams that the drug didn't work and that she is actually still alive.

Three times now I have dreamed very real dreams where I have to decide whether to call the vets and tell them it didn't work or just shrug and say, "Well... we tried, Pep, looks like you're here until you really want to go."

They are absolute torture! Last night, during the dream, I actually told myself she was really dead. The needle had actually worked. I hope it signals the end of them. I don't know what it means, I haven't analysed them and I'm not asking or expecting you to, gentle reader. But man! I am nearly at the point of putting my fists on my hips and asking the wise Universe.... What gives?!

"If It Wasn't For The Nights"

I got appointments, work I have to do
Keeping me so busy all the day through
They're the things that keep me from thinking of you
Ohhh baby, I miss you so, I know I'm never gonna make it
Oh, I'm so restless, I don't care what I say
And I lose my temper ten times a day
Still it's even worse when the night's on its way
It's bad, oh, so bad

Somehow I'd be doing alright if it wasn't for the nights
(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could make it)
I'd have courage left to fight if it wasn't for the nights
(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could take it)
How I fear the time when shadows start to fall
Sitting here alone and staring at the wall
Even I could see a light if it wasn't for the nights
(Even I could see a light I think that I could make it)
Somehow I'd be doing alright if it wasn't for the nights
(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could take it)

No one to turn to, you know how it is
I was not prepared for something like this
Now I see them clearly, the things that I miss
Ohhh baby, I feel so bad, I know I'm never gonna make it
I got my business to help me through the day
People I must write to, bills I must pay
But everything's so different when night's on its way
It's bad, oh, so bad

Somehow I'd be doing alright if it wasn't for the nights
(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could make it)
I'd have courage left to fight if it wasn't for the nights
(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could take it)
How I fear the time when shadows start to fall
Sitting here alone and staring at the wall
Even I could see a light if it wasn't for the nights
(Even I could see a light I think that I could make it)
Guess my future would look bright if it wasn't for the nights
(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could make it)

If it wasn't for the nights
(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could take it)
if it wasn't for the nights
(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could make it)

Even I could see a light if it wasn't for the nights
(Even I could see a light I think that I could make it)
Guess my future would look bright if it wasn't for the nights
(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could take it)

If it wasn't for the nights
(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could make it)
If it wasn't for the nights
(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could take it)

Even I could see a light if it wasn't for the nights
(Even I could see a light I think that I could make it)
Guess my future would look bright if it wasn't for the nights

The honest Mother of a post

noreply@blogger.com (Being Me) — Fri, 24 Feb 2012 23:15:00 +0000

"Mum, I was looking at photos in my book last night and I decided.... I like you now."

The first words out of the LGBB's mouth on Friday morning as I stood in our ensuite, straightener in hand, attempting to hide my gaping mouthed surprise. I heard Steve stifle I gasp in the next room.

"Why, thank you, Miss Lolly," I said as warmly as I could. "I think."

"That's okay," she said charitably, turned on her heel and walked off to start her day.

I can only deduce that she saw the smiling photos of me looking back at her that I had subliminally placed into her album about 4 years ago. They are photos of her as a less-than-2-year-old and various members of her family, including the dogs she already loved so much.

And before I analysed too much and asked, "Where did I go wrong?! Does that mean she has not liked me for the past 5 and a half years?", I took stock of all the things I have done with and for her. Within my means and with, at times, my limited patience and energy to give her as much as I wanted (which was always more than what she needed but felt so minimal compared to what I felt she deserved).

To be completely honest here, I only felt the veil of my depression lift last year. About 5 months after the LGBB was born, it descended on me like a stifling blanket and it didn't budge. For over four years. It was a long hard trawl. And I was often almost consumed by the weight of the guilt of not "feeling satisfied" or "happy" now that we had a child.

Add to that her kinder year (last year) was only 11 hours a week with no other child care arrangement, save for sporadic day-long visits to her grandparents, and it made for very limited opportunities for me to get work done when she was not here. So I had to break my own rule sometimes and work while she was home.

Herein lies the issue that has just come to my awareness: Despite doing EVERYTHING for her still, her perception is that I worked all the time "but you don't now so I like you" (as she said in her own words, elaborating after I casually asked why she liked me "now"). It didn't matter that the previous years were all about creating nurturing and learning activities for her to ensure the best start to her life and finding out about the world around her. All she remembers is that she had a mother who worked.

Now, while I know that what has been ingrained in her has been well worth all the effort and has helped to shape who she is, she doesn't know that. I have to fight hard here to keep my own feelings of insecurity at bay and not offload them on a five year-old. I want to rave at her "After all I've done for y...." But I won't. I can't! It's what was done to me. And it conditioned me to stop expressing myself.

Heck, haven't you ever wondered why I am SO wordy now? So expressive? You can thank my mother :)

The fact is, we live in a society where you are guaranteed to not be doing the right thing at any given time. Who can keep up with all those things we are judged on? Ludicrous! Exhausting. Nobody can keep up with every single piece of advice and instruction, and nobody is that "perfect". I decided a long time ago that I was not going to bow to the pressure of what "they" say is best for her. I was going to list here in this post the sorts of things we do and also point out all the other things we don't do, but you know what? It's not necessary. This is our life. This is our groove. I busted my gut trying to do things I thought would enrich her life, not what I thought would win me any accolades.

So why am I slightly gutted (can one even be "slightly" gutted?) that this is her perception of me? That in her mind I have only ever worked and, therefore, not been someone she could like until she has started school? She thinks I don't work now. But the reality is, I just have more time to get the work done during the day so I don't have to do it when she's home from school. I can see how she has worked it out in her head. I'm so relieved that she is satisfied, for now I can be more deeply satisfied too in my work and my hours alone. I love that she is at school. For this reason alone, I have not shed one tear that my daughter is no longer home with me.

The bigger, gnawing pain for me centres around the fact that her Dad - who goes outside the home to work and has always done, it's just a given to her because it's how she has always known him - gets off pretty lightly. He is "so funny. I like Dad. And it's okay, Mum, because I like you now too. Because you don't work." I'm still the one who gets interrupted to attend to every request, demand, plea for help. I'm the Go-To parent. Not a problem, I have no issue with this.....

Until the day I discover I'm the least "liked" parent too.

Anyone got any worms I can eat?

The Irony

noreply@blogger.com (Being Me) — Wed, 22 Feb 2012 07:18:00 +0000

“Oh, Pep,” I said with a sigh, placing a hand on her head. Pepper looked up at me dolefully. She was getting old, this girl of mine. I could see the greying around her eyes and down her long snout. I hadn’t looked at her closely for some months, distracted as I was. Yet here she had still been, ready and attentive and by my side at a moment’s notice. All I had to do was look at her and she knew, like an old friend, when I needed her. Pepper, our quietly unassuming one-time stray who had firmly and appreciatively asserted a place for herself in our little family, had brought me through so many times when I felt like I had no one to lean on. The love and devotion of this dog had been unwavering throughout my trials, all without uttering a word to me. If only more humans could be like dogs, I mused. All she had ever given me was loving, silent support.

I deduced that a great many overwhelming and emotional episodes of life—where people didn’t need more words or opinions or advice or any sort of support other than a simple, unassuming presence, an ear to lend and some gentle displays of affection—would be much better dealt with if our supporters embodied the devoted loyalty of dogs in those moments.

How could it be that my furry friend had given me far more than most people during these past years, while never having spoken a word? This was something that I did not allow to go unnoticed. Pepper had taught me much about being loyal to myself as well. And now, I was about to inflict a huge change on my “doggy child”, introduce someone else for her to accommodate as she naturally slipped down a rung in the hierarchy of our pack.

- An unedited extract from "Into The Bliss: Having & Holding Ellanor", by K.A. Whatman

If only more humans could be like dogs, I mused.

All she had ever given me was loving, silent support.

This moment of the book was from 2006. It was the day I went in to hospital to have the LGBB. In fact, it was only about an hour before we left.

I realise, retrospectively, that Pepper was attached to the Me who was pre-LGBB. She was never meant to last this long. I looked out the window at her over a year ago and heard, in a flash, "She forgot to die." I hung onto the statement for it was like a bolt out of the clear blue. And it was true. I honestly believed from that day forward that this dog had sort of .... well, just simply forgotten to slip away. Her To Do list was quite short in the end. I think much of it was forgotten. But one thing she never ever forgot was, "Look for my Master."

That'd be me.

It seems to me that everything that came to pass during 2004-2006 went exactly as it should. She supported me through my greatest trial. She saw me through the next full (and to date, second only successful) pregnancy. She carried my lonely heart through three more pregnancies in between the two girls. She was by my side for every one of those pregnancies and their varying outcomes.

Sometime not too long ago, I put to rest my desire for three children. We had borne two. We now had just one with us. My desire for more had waned and given over to the acceptance that I have all I need (and am meant to have) now.

That was supposed to be it.

She wasn't supposed to stick around for anything much of the LGBB's life. I'm sure of it. She stayed for me. And she forgot to go. I had to tell her to go. I will write a post one day about that, for it is - quite simply - profound what happened last Thursday and she deserves the honour of her passing to be a separate entry.

By the time she went, she was Lolly's "favourite". She had also enabled our daughter to witness what it is to care for an ailing, aged animal. Sure, I lost my temper sometimes over it - it was very stressful managing her in the final year, especially - but ultimately, what Lolly has been gifted with is the opportunity to understand the profound importance of ALL life. Even that which is often deemed at a brief glance to be unworthy/wasted time, resources and reserves.

The irony is, Pepper was always terrible with people. Children and men, specifically. Women she was fine with. So I had to watch her like a hawk for her entire life with us. That's a long seventeen years of scrupulous herding, shielding, fencing-off, instruction, training. And tolerance.

There was no WAY, in her younger years, we could ever keep her and have a child. I've never said that in writing before. I guess I've never had to. Because it simply didn't happen. The two realities never overlapped. By the time Lolly was born, Pepper was already losing her grip. She wasn't as fast or responsive. She was dropping catches. She was easier to manage, we could slip more things past her unnoticed. And I also knew her inside and out by then.

So there it is. The dog who could've possibly been cast as the sinister villain (okay, granted, she'd never have been in one scene) in an even more awkward telemovie remake of Evil Angels was actually my saviour during the period where I was trying to bring a child into existence. And even after Lolly was born, for the first two years at least, as Steve and I see snippets of home movies this week while we catalogue them to preserve her memory and her prominent place in our lives, she remained duty-bound to me. In one scene, Steve is playing with a 12-month-old Lolly on the patio outside. I am behind the video, walking through the house to the door. And there is Pepper. Sitting guard at the door, waiting for me, minding the entrance to the house, casting an eye over the scene before her but still on duty. For me.

I knew she was loyal when she was on her game. I just forgot for such a long time because these last few years she'd been so slow. Perhaps I took her for granted.

Ah, death. The great equalizer, huh?

Click that arrow

noreply@blogger.com (Being Me) — Mon, 20 Feb 2012 23:46:00 +0000

We interrupt this mourning series of posts with a brief community service announcement....

I added a tiny, almost insignificant piece of javascript to my blog, oh, about 14 new moons ago. And then I promptly forgot to bring it to anyone's attention. I'm handy like that.

If you diligently read every word of every new post when you visit my blog, firstly... thank you [sucker], and secondly... have you ever noticed that as soon as you scroll down, a little up-arrow appears in the bottom right corner of your screen? I put that there! For you! So you don't have to scroll up. I get so sick of scrolling around websites/blogs.

So there you have it. Click on that arrow and you'll get jumped straight back up to the top.

You're welcome!

(mobile users: can you tell me how it goes for you or if it even appears? Thanks ever so)

Spare me

noreply@blogger.com (Being Me) — Sun, 19 Feb 2012 23:48:00 +0000

In classic Me fashion, I am going to say (rather ambiguously) that I'm sorry but... I make no apology for feeling the loss of my dear friend deeply and fully. I suppose you only get a real sense of how much this dog did for me when you read my book. I promise one day more than a handful of you will have that opportunity! *pumping fatigued unconvincing fist to the sky*

Writing my way through this is the only healthy way for me to honour the devotion she showed me. It's what I do and it's what she did. And it seems it did not go unnoticed all this time by my family. The outpouring of condolences from them, the tears, the fondness in their recollections of her as a "lovely old lady", the happy stories of being held captive to play ball with a dog who could fetch and return far longer than anyone ever wanted to play with her have helped to round out the significance Steve and I have always felt about her place in our home.

To me, my dog was always home.

We rescued her from a shelter just two years after Steve and I moved in together. I was 20, Steve was 23, the day we went and chose her out of those 35 other full cages. Steve will turn 40 in April and I will be 37 this year. At our wedding 13 years ago, Rusty (his cat) and Pepper were immortalized by the Best Man in the speeches. Everybody knew who they were. Pep got about with us like "one of the buddies" and anyone who came over had to acknowledge the dog. If I didn't mention her and they otherwise didn't take any notice of her, Pepper would make sure of it at some point.

From the moment she let go of her last breath last Thursday, my mind has been flooded with all of those wonderful, rich memories of my faithful dog.

I am keeping my head above water quite well now. The past three days have seen me break down at least every hour. Today is better. I am distracting my tired brain with some excellent comedy podcasts and also Tina Fey's "Bossypants" audio book - awesomely funny! - because every song is too sad and leaves too much room for my mind to wander back to Pepper. No, I'll do it this way. With distract and deflect tactics.

Her life was my joy. I want to be happy when I remember what she gave me.

This will not be the last post on the subject. And again, while on the one hand I'm sorry for that if you a) don't particularly care for dogs or b) am already rather tired of my bleating on the subject, on the other hand I say.... it's a big wide web out there with a zillion other blogs. I won't be offended in the slightest if you can't read mine for the time being.

But like all other times since starting this space, I turn here to express myself and connect with like souls.

I have to do this.

For now, I'll leave you with an absolutely delightful video I found on the weekend whilst cataloguing every digital photo we ever took of her. Oh yes... a slideshow is a must. And it's in the works but might be slow coming to fruition, as much as my heart and energy permits me to work on it.

What an honour it was to have her in my life.

The following footage is typical Pepper. The slight "I wanna say something but I won't" huff. The doleful expression. The paw on me in thanks for me saying "good girl".... even though I wasn't talking to her this time. We were in the part-regretful, part-trying-to-be-firm transition phase of shuffling her off her top spot - she had to make room for the LGBB. I am doing a separate post on that soon, because it is a huge thing for the loyal animals of a long-term TTC'er (TTC=Trying To Conceive) to step aside.

In this video, you can hear me (embarrassingly using baby-talk with the dog) trying to break it to Pep that I won't always be talking to her any more when there are no other adult humans around....

oh and p.s. if you were wondering, "Reenie" as in Pepperini, was her nickname - she had several, but this one stuck (even Lol called her Reenie).

Shake it off with shuffling

noreply@blogger.com (Being Me) — Fri, 17 Feb 2012 02:59:00 +0000

Hey folks.

In my vain attempts to distract myself today, I took to the home video collection and found this pearler taken earlier this month of the LGBB in her new ballet get-up. Bless her ~~cotton socks~~ nylon ballet tights. She shows off a groovy bit of dancing complete with snarly looks - the snarly pout indicates the older/adolescent female version of herself, which she tries on whenever she wants to feel grown up (oh dear) - and is blissfully unaware I have propped up the iPhone camera whilst under the guise of cooking dinner.

Never let it be said I always have a clean house, but just a disclaimer: that dining room table always seems to have things draped on it/over it/under it whenever anything filmable happens in the kitchen! I see a discarded ball (thanks Jazz), a pet bed or two (thanks Pepper), a teddy/friend blanket made by yours truly strewn across the bench seat (thanks Lolly... or is that, thanks me?) and just no end of junk to be put away, really.

So enjoy my mess and my daughter's dancing.

Oh, p.s. Astute watchers will note the bit-part cameos from Pepper, interjecting at two intervals with her latter-years signature bark (in time with the music, I might add). The staccato "Whaddabout me?!" bark for my attention that slowly drove me insane but that I'd give anything to hear today. Well.... maybe not. On second thoughts, it did most royally shit me and wasn't ever her most endearing feature.

Anyway! To the video!

Music and laughter through searing pain: My familiar dose of medicine

noreply@blogger.com (Being Me) — Thu, 16 Feb 2012 01:04:00 +0000

It's the song that has been playing over and over in my head. The little earworm since I called the vet this morning to call them out to see Pepper this afternoon at home. It's a song I haven't heard in I don't know how many years and bears no importance or relevance in my life.

Until now.

And I realise, with an amused smile, that this is SO Pepper. The chorus could have been written by her. If... y'know... she had opposable thumbs.

So as we sit here waiting for her time to go, she and I, please have a listen to "our song" and smile with me:

If You Leave Me Can I Come Too?

If you leave me, can I come too?

We can always stay

But if you leave me, can I come too?

And if you go, can I come too?

"Can I go now?" Helping my old girl stand down

noreply@blogger.com (Being Me) — Wed, 15 Feb 2012 04:08:00 +0000

The day that would never come.

There's come a time when I've realised something I hadn't seen before. I always professed I wanted Pepper to end her days by herself. Naturally. My hope was for her to have a dignified end but that if pain was making living too hard, I'd cross that bridge when I came to it.

I'm walking on the bridge now. And I have a big juicy bone enticing my old faithful girl to follow me.

I did not even see, before yesterday, that she won't go until I lead her. She is too obedient. She is too apologetic. Look at that photo up there. That is the doleful look she has always had. The grateful look. The care-taking "may I help you?" look. To this day, stumbling and disoriented as she is now, she waits to be ushered inside (or out) and never assumes to go anywhere we haven't directed her. Why would she not look for my guidance now? Jazz is another story. A different energy altogether. She barges her way past all of us, whacking Pep in the face with that kangaroo-strength tail of hers. She waits for no one and has to be reminded of the correct etiquette (she knows it, she just takes liberties all the time).

Pepper wouldn't dare. She's not even going to die without being given permission.

Before yesterday, I thought it would be wrong somehow of me to snuff Pepper's lights out. But she seems to have reached a point where she needs me. Needs help to stand down. An insightful Facebook friend I've known for a number of years suggested the poignant timing of this turn of events for our old girl. On the back of my last post where I mused that I really felt "okay" now.... here she is, turning up beside me to hang her lead on the hook and hand in her ~~badge~~ collar.

Forcing my hand.

Willing me to choose.

Now we are deciding on burial spots in the backyard and whether we'll opt for a call-out from the vet or if I will take her on one final car ride.

I have been torn by this for so long. But now it's no turning back. There will be no more false alarms for dear Pepper. Remember that rather embarrassing time two years ago when I thought her number was up but she had just gorged herself on dog food? That was an embarrassing laugh (only with hindsight, I hastily add). I don't want her to be in pain. A trip to the vet this morning confirmed she has lost most of the feeling in one back leg, the other is not too crash hot. Her front legs are barely holding her weight and she has lost so much muscle tone that her lower back is now compromised. The way she falls (hard) and the increased frequency of her slips mean that I just cannot allow her to go on any longer.

And I realised, not more than three hours ago, that it is only appropriate that it is me who has to be with her. She and I. The two of us. Alone. Together. We spent so many days this way over the past seventeen years. I would literally burst outside to find her if I had become overwhelmed by my grief during the long days when Steve was at work. I'd call Pep - she was never far away - and she would sit with me, whine alongside me as I would sob and sob and sob. She'd slip a paw up into my hand and rest her head on me. Always.

[As an aside, how the hell Steve coped going to work through that, I will never know. If anyone, wants some assistance with understanding from a male's perspective, I encourage them to seek out this excellent blog for fathers.]

Pepper hasn't been able to do what she instinctively has always done. It's been about a year since she was able to properly balance her weight so she could give me a paw. I wanted to nurse her through her geriatric months, which have turned into years. But now I see what I didn't see before.

I need to relieve her of her duties to me. It's okay for her to go. I've told her many times over, at first when I didn't really even believe it. But there is a profoundness in having to do this for her as well. It is right this way, I've come to accept it quite quickly. It makes sense to me that a dog so fiercely brave and loyal will never lay down and snuff out. As it is today, she senses something is up - I have had to sit beside her and MAKE her lie down to rest. She has been trying to stand beside me since we returned from the vets.

They are no fools, these animals who sacrifice their lives for us. I'd like to think I am about to receive one hell of a guardian angel when she slips peacefully across the void. It makes it only ever so slightly less painful to hope.

And hey.... just an update - look at this: we did it, she's leaving after seventeen years - that one was a super-important post about my girl. So. I can officially say I really have lived with Pepper for as many years as I lived with my mother! I rest my case.

8 years on and finally: I'm OK today

noreply@blogger.com (Being Me) — Sat, 11 Feb 2012 19:57:00 +0000

The floating feeling for thirty-one days between the anniversaries of her birth and her death did not happen this year. For the first time, I was healed enough. Perhaps it was just that I was distracted enough. We'll be going gently today, Steve and I. We know what happened on this day, eight years ago. We were both there, after all. The weight of that tiny body will forever be felt in our arms.

The LGBB began school a week ago. If this day had not fallen on a weekend, I wonder if I would have had any time to notice the date at all.

You are newer to my story than I. It has been seeping in to my core for eight years now. I am not new to it. You may be coping with your own recently started infant loss journey. It may seem unfathomable that today could be anything but intensely sad forever... I get that, completely. I previously couldn't have imagined the day of the anniversary of my firstborn's passing being less than horrid every year myself.

In any case, I do not wish to diminish the impact I have previously always felt on this day. But I cannot deny that there has been a lightening of my burden. I hope this is a comfort to you, rather than insulting.

I have done and written all I can, from every angle and every which way but crazy.... well, no, that's not true; I'm quite certain at a few points during the life of this blog I have written whilst under the influence of my own tormented insanity - a mother's insanity - and I make no apology for this maternal crazy-insane slant in some of my earlier posts. I am sure that Ellanor will continue to provide me exceptionally well-timed points of learning.

For today, however, I hope that each of you will take the time to welcome her fairytale life into your hearts by reading the story in the link below.

Can a baby's short life be seen as a fairytale? Can there be any meaning at all in a passing that is so tragically soon?

I think, yes. On both counts. It is truly breathtaking. The message is Universal, in a way it represents the profound meaning of all life. But if you are currently in the turmoil of this in your own life, then it must be you who decides.

Please do come back and leave a comment here if you are moved to do so.

Little Ella: The Story of an Earth Angel

(grab the tissues and settle in! This is a short story, beautifully told with a very important message

- written the week Ellanor passed away, by Susannah Brindle)

Make it genuine

noreply@blogger.com (Being Me) — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 23:34:00 +0000

I was running this morning. Literally, not figuratively. The dog was keeping her working pace at my side - I always feel so much more serious when I glance down at Jazz, she really hits her stride next to me when I jog and looks like she's ... well, working so I feel obliged to put a decent effort in because she is - when I noticed an elderly woman up ahead.

She looked quite frail and was wearing sensible slacks, court shoes and a cable knit jumper that stopped at her waist. She was walking a little white dog. I've just described pretty much every elderly woman going for a walk, haven't I? But I digress.

When the woman looked up and saw us coming, she crossed the street hurriedly. I had already decided I would run down one of the driveway cross-sections and onto the street to go around her. So I felt kind of bad for being the cause of her struggling her dog across the road. As I got closer, I looked over to her where she was now pacing up the opposite footpath. The look on her face was dark. A scowl at "the youth of today" if ever I saw one. Granted, without makeup I do still look like I haven't even hit my mid-twenties or had a hard day in my life. HAR! Har-dee-har...har.... ahem. Little do they know when they see what they think is a fresh-faced girl. Sometimes, just to digress again, I honestly wish some of the experiences of my life would show up on my face. They just. Don't. You can't help genes, I guess.

Anyway, she was still looking at me and I was looking at her. I was concentrating on not tripping, not wavering and bumping the dog - we've done that before and, oh boy, it isn't pleasant for either Jazz or me (her poor toes) - so it took me a moment for the thought in my head "Smile a greeting" to reach my lips and work the muscles of my face. I'm old enough now to not take on whatever the response is going to be to my smile. Sometimes it's returned, other times it's not. That's all cool. Especially in the solitary quiet of a lovely early morning where people get out on their own and usually want to be on their own without some fitness goon grinning their chops off at them.

I kept my smile on. I wanted to call out to her an apology for making her cross the road. It had obviously put her out. I really hadn't wanted to disrupt her path but didn't want to go out on the road too early to round her. But because I was running I was passing her quicker than I would've been able to say the words. I thought she wouldn't respond at all.

But then, there it was. A smile. Parting the dark shadows on her face so briefly. There it was. The person behind the veil. It was a really interesting moment. One in which I realised that her closed expression was probably less about having to cross the road to avoid a jogger and their dog and more about.... well, who knows? Whatever was pressing in her life today.

I jogged on and couldn't stop thinking, rhythmically, like a mantra (jogging can have such a meditative effect on me, which is weird, considering I'm working so hard!)....

Be the first to smile. Make it genuine.

You could change the course of someone's day.

Even a dog can smile.

A dying art. As opposed to dying for your art.

noreply@blogger.com (Being Me) — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 03:16:00 +0000

I doubt it'll ever kill me, but writing anything longer than a page by hand these days hurts!

And that hurts here *close-fisted heart tap to my homies... mummies... blogger...ies*

Eden is hosting a weekly meme - about horses who are not on the nose? - and this weekend it was about handwriting - horses that can write? I don't know, I'm very confused (just generally) - and I was very happy to see so many samples of handwriting. On Twitter, on Facebook, on Instagram. By the time I got around to joining in, I realised (as with so many things in my life) I was beyond fashionably late and it had closed.

Somehow, Eden saw fit to open the Linky back up. So I quickly scrawled the note below - the musings of which I shall endeavour to expand on in a post in the near future - and found myself rather happy to be writing. Actual pen-to-paper writing! I love writing. I love forming the letters, I love watching my hand as it seems to bounce and flow almost with a mind of its own as it shapes the letters. I love the pace of writing - note to self: when brain is overworking..... Stop. Write. Let it slow back down to the limited speed of hand to self-regulate.

I mean, take a look at those k's. I can make the tail of an S go from here to the kitchen. And my w's? My w's are almost out of control. I was quite tame today, really, but I do adore letting loose on a piece of foolscap with a pen. The more felt-tipped the better, for mine.

One thing I've always wanted to do is make a font out of my own writing. That would be awesome. But so lazy. In a world where the shopping list is the only thing I write with any great regularity, even this is becoming obsolete in our house - thanks a LOT, Siri.

Thanks for reopening your Linky, Mrs Land! Looks like several of us just missed out. I am impressed by how keen we are to put pen to paper. I truly hope it doesn't die out as much as "they" say it will.....

Time will tell.

Do you enjoy writing?

School's in: If there ever comes a day....

noreply@blogger.com (Being Me) — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 11:14:00 +0000

From "The House At Pooh Corner" by A.A.Milne (1928)

The kookaburras are laughing as I sit here at 9pm on the first night of our LGBB going to school. It's rare to hear them, certainly this late at night, round these parts. They're having a raucous good laugh.... at my expense, my paranoid ego wants to tell me.

See, here's the thing: I thought I would have a cry in my heart after today. THE day. The big one that has been looming in my awareness for well over a year now. I put it off and put it off, imagining today. Kind of like anticipating something you want so much to come but you know it'll come with a cost. Come with some pain.

That is how I just naturally expected today to go. Scene: me back in car, letting myself go into the cocoon of the vehicle cabin, possibly searching for something soppy to play on the radio as a fitting backdrop to my tears.

But no! Not a tear fell. Not even a "Oh my giddy Aunt, but they are SO gorgeous with their enormous shorts down to their shins and dresses down to their ankles, bless them all" blub of happiness (which I am oh so good at.... just ask the LGBB's kindy teacher from last year who pegged me as hopeless right from the first time - of many - that I stood and watched someone else's kid have show and tell and proceeded to cry uncontrollably just watching how proud they were with showing their favourite whatever to the captive audience).

Checking they got her name right

You see on the surface, today was surprise-free. I knew Lolly would breeze through that door, I had a feeling I'd get the briefest of hugs and then she would be on her way, back turned to me and her Dad. I expected I would feel a sense of loss (as with the closing of any long, important chapter) but I haven't. The day went off without a hitch. Lolly did give us a goodbye hug but it was a squeeze so warm and loving and bone-crushing that I knew she was ready to flap her wings and practice flying now.

Retrospectively looking back on it, and tucking the girl in to her bed tonight after a celebratory pizza feast, a foot massage with lavender oil and a tummy-winding exercise (that is... winding as in winding down, not anything to do with a breeze!) - which may not be to everyone's understanding or pleasure, but is our tried and true method of corterizing any remaining threads of connection to energies of the day that are not hers to to be troubled by or to own - I allowed myself to realise the profoundity of the day.

"Mum," she drearily said to me as she struggled to keep her eyes open while I rubbed her feet. "I think you should be a teacher."
"Oh?"
"Actually, you even look like my teacher!" A compliment I will gladly take, given that her teacher is about fifteen years my junior and gorgeous to boot. I can't see it, personally, but who am I to disagree?

The Bag with its own postcode

We then had a chat about how what she really wanted was for me to work at the school so she could see me during the day sometimes. "Well.... not all teachers work in schools, you know," I informed her. "Perhaps I could be a teacher anyway and just not work at a school." I like to get her thinking.

The conversation resolved itself when the LGBB decided she really did want to go to school but wished, at the same time, she could remain a little kid. "Forever." I told her tenderly that I remember having those exact wishes when I was not much older than her. The weight of responsibility and experience already upon my eleven year-old head felt too hard and I didn't want to grow up. It was impossible not to.

So today, I see now, while it was the beginning of the feeling of guilt-free days for the first time in five years (until school becomes a burdensome chore she drags her feet to get to each day and I somehow find a way to feel horrible and guilty about her having to be penned in by the institution while I am not), that this was a day of initiation for both of us.

As mother and daughter, our roles and expectations of each other are about to step up a notch. I hope she continues to be as patient and engaging with me as she has for her first years. Today I had to farewell the little girl, who was really not that little girl any more either but someone waiting in the wings. Waiting for the very moment Miss C opened the classroom door so that the children with the too-big uniforms could spill in to their new exciting space.

Just as the celebrant spoke of at Ellanor's memorial, this is a changing season - where we say goodbye, but also in many respects, it is a hello. A "welcome to your new world" for my Lolly. And I couldn't be more proud of how she began that new life today.

I know she won't always appreciate or even want to hear my imparting of wisdom.
I know one day she will not want me to come near her, let alone massage her, with lavender oil before bed time.
I know one day (sob) that Scrapsy will not get a guernsey as her best, best, bestest friend any more.
I know, once again, I have a daughter who is a child of the universe now. As she always was. And I am so deeply honoured. You know?

But I will always be boundary-keeping my daughter, for as long as there is a breath in me.

It's so brief. Really. She's grown me up a little more today. My little inner child is moping slightly but it won't for long. How can it (and what right does it have) when it sees this buoyant soul beaming back?

“If ever there is tomorrow when we're not together...
There is something you must always remember.
You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.
But the most important thing is, even if we're apart...
I'll always be with you.”

A.A.Milne

Look who's going to school

noreply@blogger.com (Being Me) — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 04:10:00 +0000

Just three short years ago, our little Lollipop was pooping in her nappy at the airport as she farewelled her cousins ("Mia 'n Emmaaaaaa! Where they be?") and using Scrapsy to "make my better". You'll be relieved that smell-o-vision is not an invention - I still remember the sting of my nostrils as we walked back to the car to change her. Wafting a scent worthy of Pepe le Pew behind us.

Un smelle vous finay!

Now the LGBB is a confident, excited, enthusiastic and friendly five and a half year-old ready to blow their socks off this year in Prep. She'll be there tomorrow, white socks neatly pulled up, plonking along in school shoes a tad too large and trying to avoid head lice (yeah, right.... wish us luck with that!). And I daresay I'll do similar to what Marg Simpson does with all the other parents as they forlornly wave off their children to camp until the kids are out of sight - then I'll do a big air-jump "WOOP!" and high-five some other parent next to me. Because let's face it: all things must end. And we have spent her entire life so far with each other. It's time to branch out, for both our sakes.

But back then, the LGBB was still crafting the natural comedic timing that has become one of her signature traits. Oh how she makes my heart soar. Even if she still does stop me from singing in EXACTLY the same manner as she tries on in this video. This is one of my favourites. It is SO her at that age.

I am so excited for her. For me. Yet slightly worried, ready for whatever comes next.

Ahhh, boy, they were not wrong when they warned it would go faster than I could believe possible.

Enjoy your young'uns! Despite it all - everything that is hard and feels ennnnnndless... - I hope you do indeed stop. Sit back. And enjoy it. x

Friends of Science in Medicine know best? Alternative therapies under fire

noreply@blogger.com (Being Me) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 23:14:00 +0000

I appear to be uncharacteristically on my soap box about public issues this week. Forgive me. And bear with me. Please also remember this is a post written from my perspective and experience - I don't intentionally mean to denounce anyone else's experience.

There is no denying that western medicine and science is crucial. I won't even begin to count the ways. In saying that, for treatment of minor (and medium, bordering on serious) conditions, I try to avoid it as much as possible.

So today, when I read this article that is reporting an apparent global uprising of doctors and scientists to prevent universities and health funds from recognising alternative medicine, I felt a sense of dread. The article states:

Almost one in three Australian universities now offer courses in some form of alternative therapy or complementary medicine, including traditional Chinese herbal medicine, chiropractics, homeopathy, naturopathy, reflexology and aromatherapy.

But the new group, Friends of Science in Medicine, wrote to vice-chancellors this week, warning that by giving "undeserved credibility to what in many cases would be better described as quackery" and by "failing to champion evidence-based science and medicine", the universities are trashing their reputation as bastions of scientific rigour.

Read more: http://www.smh.com.au/national/tertiary-education/scientists-urge-unis-to-axe-alternative-medicine-courses-20120125-1qhtm.html#ixzz1kVvHpGFQ

Okay. Now, I am all for everyone finding their own method of wellbeing. I also realise there are "quacks" out there - but you can find those sitting in GP's offices in proper, accredited clinics anywhere in the country just as easily as the oft-joked-about "slapping fish", "hocus-pocus" (etc. etc. etc.) alternative practitioner. Obviously, any healthcare provider needs to be good at what they do. I just take deep offense at my choices being limited by this ruling. What about all the families out there who rely on these sorts of treatments for their children? How will they afford it if they whip out the health cover rug from under them? They want to take away my right to choose - I mean, sure, the treatments will still be around, but I won't be able to receive a rebate because of my choice and what works for me and my family. And damnit, they're going to win, aren't they?

My experience with doctors has pretty much been along these lines:

Scenario 1 (which actually happened)--
"How can I help you today?"
"My daughter is pulling at her ears and crying. She's too young to tell me what's wrong, but I'm sure there's something happening with her ears."
"Any other symptoms?"
"No, none apart from the crying and irritability... oh wait, sometimes she pulls at her cheeks lately."
"Well... I've checked her ears and they're clear." *shrug* "My best guess is that she had a cold or something like that and her ears were blocked for a while."
I left the office with no treatment or solution being prescribed or suggested.

After several days pass, I take her to my Homoeopath, desperate for some relief for her and sure something is happening but she just can't tell me. My Homoeopath takes one look at my ruddy-faced grizzly baby and says "She's getting more teeth! It can affect the ears..." and goes on to describe the mechanics of the sinus region and why this would be impacted by Lolly's teeth coming through. He prescribes a remedy, I diligently give it to her every four hours. The change is remarkable within the first day. I am relieved, she is relieved.

Scenario 2 (which actually happened) --
"How can I help you today?"
"My child is very sick but I don't know what it can be. She has some spots but they're fairly insignificant at this stage and only around her nappy area. She won't eat or drink and keeps crying and thrashing about." (Of course the crying and thrashing stop when we're in the office...... don't they always?)
"Well... I've checked her over, she has no temperature and looks fine. Keep an eye on those spots and watch for any new symptoms. If anything changes or if you feel she is getting worse, bring her straight back."
"Ummm.... o...kay? I guess?"

Dumbfounded, I head to my Homoeopath for help again. This time, I think my child is far too unwell to be helped by the "quackery" (as so belligerently described in this article today) of something so, frankly, mysterious as homoeopathy. I've heard the opinion that the pillules they give out are no more than placebo tablets. I also know that, either way, I don't care if they are if they relieve me - but I'm not so certain I want to risk testing the theory with my child on something that appears to be quite serious this time. More over, I don't want to risk looking to others like I am doing nothing for her but giving her sugar-placebo tablets!
But with little else to do, I turn again to my trusty Homoeopath.
This time, the result convinces me without doubt that I would turn to him before a GP any day of the week for almost anything except broken bones!

As it turned out, Lolly had hand, foot and mouth disease. She passed it on to both Steve and me. I didn't shake the horrible disease for five months (largely because I was stupid and was so concerned about getting her back to health that I ignored the pain and literally swallowed it down every day without focusing on my own wellbeing and getting myself treated... in hindsight, that was the end of my phase of subconsciously inflicting pain on myself). It was a horrendous time. But we got through it with little more than a bit of Pain Stop and the homoeopathics to treat the symptoms. I did take her back to the doctor to discuss it and was there for little more than five minutes, being shown the door and told that it couldn't be treated by them. What the....?

I could go on and on, listing examples of more minor ailments I or Lolly have had over the past six years. I now naturally call on my Homoeopath for things that I am initially sure cannot possibly be treated or eased but will contact him "just in case" they can. One memorable time, I just happened to mention a grotesque little-fingernail-sized cauliflower wart (oh, yes... ewww) that had grown on the side of my chin while I was pregnant. The thing was there to stay. It grew so large that Steve started asking it how the heck that thing grew on the side of its face ("that thing" being, my head... oh he is soooooo funny, no? sigh).

With barely more than a week's worth of aggressive treatment with the correctly prescribed homoeopathic remedy, the bloody thing fell off! And just two months ago, Lolly and I worked together with our Homoeopath to get rid of a painful papilloma (one of those warts that grow inwards in a conical shape usually on the underside of the heel). They're yuck and in my teenage years, I had one removed with quite a bit of discomfort, local anaesthetic, freezing it out and bandaging. I thought I'd try to avoid that for her and see if we couldn't give homoeopathics a go. She was over the moon when it shrivelled up and died and painlessly fell off in her sock one day, about a month after we started treating it with a 3-times daily remedy. I was pleased she was able to see how the treatment had worked for her, as it had been troubling her and making walking uncomfortable - I offered her the choice and explained what the doctor would do. The word "needle" (even though I reassured her it would only sting for a moment) was enough to make her try the (in my opinion, better) alternative.

Placebo? Quackery? I don't believe either of those ill-advised descriptions for ONE second.

And finally, I just want to say: please note that my Homoeopath was not the one who didn't do anything for you... if you have been given poor or ineffective treatment by one - as with doctors, there are good ones and crap ones. I have the great fortune of having found a damn fine Homoeopath, whom we actually call "Dr K" because he's just as good, if not better, than any I've seen in my entire life and certainly treats me and my family more effectively and more often.

What have been your experiences with doctors, alternative therapists, or otherwise?

When cyclists attack: Dog vs Man

noreply@blogger.com (Being Me) — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 23:17:00 +0000

"If you don't know how to do it, I'll show you how to walk the dawg."

The other morning, the LGBB and I took Jazz for a walk to her school. It took us around an hour. There is a bike track that goes all the way there. It's a really lovely gently downhill walk all the way, and there are many spots where you could almost imagine you're walking on a path through the bush, not through the back of suburbia.

On this deserted path, I decided to allow Jazz some free roaming time. She is harmless. I know this. Despite knowing this, I have the eagle eye of an experienced dog owner. Some, granted, would say that an "experienced dog owner" would not have let the dog off its lead on council land where it is common knowledge that dogs should be walked on lead only. Weighing up the risks compared with the short bit of off-lead time I was giving her, I made the measured decision to keep a watchful eye on my dog and let her run in the grass verge to the side of the track. Many groups and individuals passed us over a ten minute period, mostly on bike but a few on foot. They passed us without fuss or fret. Jazz gave them barely a glance, if that, and continued her foraging in the lush grass - she loves to scratch her back and snout in grass for some reason, I've heard other Kelpie owners say their dogs love to do this too, perhaps it's a trait of the breed.

Lolly and I were making good time. Steve was going to meet us at the school with the car to give us a lift back, a wisely pre-arranged plan we made before we left home, sans phone.

Along came a man of quite decent, solid build. He looked to be roughly in his forties and in very good shape. He was riding a bike and coming towards us. I checked where Jazz was as he headed our way; she was sniffing the base of a gum tree at the edge of the path. I saw by the way the rider's face was set determinedly that he was in some sort of deep concentration and deduced he would not be an individual who would share a nod, a smile or any grunt in recognition of sharing the path and early morning with us. That's cool. I've been in the zone before while exercising. Sometimes you do, sometimes you don't acknowledge a passer-by.

When he rode past us, I was only mildly alarmed that he came quite close to the LGBB - thankfully, she kept her gait steady and didn't wobble into his path or he would have clipped her. Perhaps he felt we should get off the path completely, for we had already moved out of his way over to our side of the shared walkway. It was a fleeting glance, but I saw him jerk his head sharply in the direction of Jazz as he rounded the tree under which she was gaily sniffing. In a moment, he was gone - mere seconds and he had passed us by - and we continued on.

Not more than two minutes passed and, just as Lolly was launching into some new endless sentence without a break about some desperately important bit of information she needed to impart in one continuous breath, I heard someone shout something from behind her down the track a ways. It took me a few moments to register the words in my brain... something about "dog on the fucking lead"...

The man on the bike was making his way back, obviously reaching some turning point in his ride and coming back the way he came. Lolly was oblivious and thought I had stopped ahead of her to turn back and wait for her to catch up - it's hard to concentrate on your single minutes-long sentence and keep a good walking pace, didn't you know? - but I was mostly watching the situation with my dog and this fast-approaching bike rider who by now I realised had the shits up about Jazz being off lead.

"She's fine," I assured him as he cycled past Lolly making his way past me next. The dog hadn't even lifted her head and was at this point a few metres from the path to my right, still under my control and posing absolutely no obstacle or danger to anyone, least of all the big burly man.

"Get FUCKED," he shrieked like a madman. "Should be on a lead." He rapidly rode into the distance past me. The whole exchange took less than five seconds.

The moment got the better of me and I was instantly riled, as if something had leapt off the rider and onto me. I was baited, hook, line and sinker. I took it. Without hesitating (or thinking), I fired back, "Calm down, sir." I have absolutely no idea why I added "sir" the way I did. Perhaps I thought it'd soften it. I immediately wanted to gulp my words back in. It was wrong to shout anything after him. I had visions of him dismounting and coming back and punching me in the face. I felt like I had been hit in the stomach as it was. He was just so angry!

The LGBB was concerned. She caught up to me, asking questions about "the man" and wanting to know - word for word - what he said and what I had called after him. I tried to wave it off but she persisted. I had to feed my words back to her, regurgitating them as if she was trying to make me be more accountable for my part in the exchange. Mostly, I was mortified that having the dog off lead, despite her perfect behaviour and temperament, had been so gruffly pointed out to me.

"What did he say to you?" Lolly probed.

"He said Jazz should be on her lead... and he's right," I replied truthfully.

"But why was he mad? And what did you say to him?" she asked, a most concerned look on her face. She's at an age where such juicy social exchanges are referenced and filed for use in her next dollhouse or Barbie game - there's always an antagonist these days if I listen in long enough.

"He was telling me Jazz should be walking next to us because maybe he thought she would trip him over," I said. It was the first logical thing that came into my head, probably not far from the truth either. I'd like to think he was an upstanding citizen who was concerned for the safety of others.... something tells me that wasn't the reason for his policing attitude, but still. I'll never know. "And I asked him to calm down because he seemed angry."

I felt a fool, spelling it out to her. I shouldn't have yelled after him. It was idiotic and made me feel worse because I was contributing to the exchange and buying in to whatever he was already carrying. That kind of venom isn't spat out at a stranger without it having brewed to that point long before the situation even arises. He was just seizing the opportunity to let some steam out of his inner pressure cooker. I get that.

"But why was he so angry about Jazz?" See? Even a five year-old knows Jazz is nothing to be concerned about. That dog is the definition of "nice".

"Because..." getting a little frustrated now, just drop it already, sheeezus! "...some people are just so angry in their hearts that they yell at other people, even sometimes people they don't even know. It's a shame, isn't it?"

It was the closest to a full explanation as I wanted to get that day. Lol seemed satisfied after that. Her face relaxed back to neutral and she changed the subject to something completely unrelated. I love the way kids do that! I wish more adults could do it. But that's an entirely different blog post......

Look, I knew it was essentially wrong of me to have Jazz off her lead. But I'd love to take a poll of dog owners and ask them if they haven't given their dog a few minutes off the lead here and there over the life of the dog. Come on. I'd like to think I am a sensible, responsible person (some would say I am often painfully too responsible and morally upright!) - I know my dog and I know she would no sooner rush at someone than take down a wildebeast.

Other dogs are a different matter: as soon as another dog comes along, mostly for the safety of my own dog I will restrain her if she is at that point having a sniff off the lead. It's just not worth the potential for a dog-barney in the road. A brief exchange with the other dog owner will determine whether we let them have a run together. It seems the unwritten rule of engagement out there and most, if not all, dog owners I have ever met have been very reasonable and more than keen to let Fido have a run and tumble with my dog too - we know the joy these social creatures get from connecting with their own kind. In fact, it's a big part of the joy of owning a dog.

It's a can of worms, I know, asking where you stand on the issue of dogs off lead. I myself would not like to be anywhere in a shared public place with a dog off its lead - heck, some people seem to have a hard time stopping/controlling their dog even when they are on lead! If I see kids - on foot or on bikes - she goes back on straight away. If I see other dogs in the distance, same thing - back on straight away. If there is nowhere for her to roam or get off the path and it's being shared with walkers and cyclists, she also doesn't get off the lead. If there is anything unpredictable (a windy day, poor visibility, anything that just doesn't feel right), she stays by my side and doesn't go off lead. You can see that there isn't much opportunity for time where she is let off! An rightfully so. Dogs should come last in the chain in public spaces, always. BUT... if it is mostly deserted and there's plenty of space and a decent stretch of path where I can see people coming in either direction from a fair distance away, then yes. I let her off.

What are your habits walking your own dog? What are your thoughts? And ummm... what's better or worse: having a harmless dog off its lead or shouting expletives in a threatening manner in front of a small child in an essentially deserted area? I have to tell you (now I'm safe at home) it was one of those hair-raising moments where I saw in a flash what can happen - and how easily these road rage (bike path rage?) bashing stories end up on the news.

Update: Wed. 25/1, 11am - I am closing comments on this post now. If you feel moved to add something that hasn't already been discussed, please feel free to visit my Facebook page instead.
I would like to point out that the second last paragraph in this post clearly describes the conditions in which I give my dog a rare chance to walk off-lead - in a safe and controlled environment, not in parks full of people, at shopping centres (heaven forbid!) or anywhere where there are children.
I would also remind, respectfully, that I am not representative of (or advocating for) irresponsible and inconsiderate owners who seem not to respect shared public places with their out of control dogs. They give all dog owners (and dogs!) an unfair bad name.
Thank you to all who contributed to the discussion.

"Good night, Australia!" #YTT is back!

noreply@blogger.com (Being Me) — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 09:37:00 +0000

I had no idea Young Talent Time was coming back until, oh, about 4.30 last Friday afternoon. WHY DIDN'T I KNOW THIS???

When I was growing up, Sydney had all the other Aussie-made shows but in Melbourne, we had three of my childhood staples:

Hey! Hey! It's Saturday. Neighbours. But most beloved of all,

Young Talent Time.

I ADORED this show. I loved Johnny Young. I felt like I had a personal connection to each of the kids. When one would leave (Karen Knowles, you BROKE MY HEART........ it's ok, I forgive you already) and another would join, I'd warm to them eventually. I had my eighth birthday there and thought I was the luckiest girl on the planet when Tara Falconer invited me to her birthday party and I got to go again (it seemed the "done" thing to go to tapings of the show for birthday parties). It was the place to be. If you were a little kid with stars in her/his eyes. And you lived in Melbourne.

It finished in 1988. I can hardly believe it was that long ago. How can it be that it was never resurrected until now? But my goodness, what a resurrection.

I am going to admit right now, I am hopeful. So very, very hopeful. That this doesn't go down the chute too quickly. That there are no scandals, that there is no hard time made or had by any of the team or contestants. That people don't unduly bag it without first stopping to realise the gaping hole in wholesome children's entertainment these days.

Because I need this to work!

This show is vital. It is very much needed. Yes, there is a saturation of talent shows but they are so formulaic and rigid and narrow-focused. They smack of greed and almost unhealthy competition and materialism. They are not and will never be YTT.

Like looking into the past... The LGBB sits, riveted by the new show

After the show, they sang "All My Loving". I cried. Like a bit of a baby. In a flash, a warm blanket came over me. I remember being all rugged up in my 'jamies, towel-dried wet hair, fed. With my family, that was so often at war and fractured. Safe for a moment. I would sit there and allow myself to get pulled in to the TV. Tuning out all else except those twinkling studio stars behind them as Johnny Young sat and swayed while he sang my weekly goodnight song. To me.

Tonight, the LGBB was overcome at the very first notes of the song. She bundled up her little dog, Scraps, and jumped off the couch to come and cuddle up to me where I was stretched out on the floor, probably pulling a pose very much like the one I used to 25 years ago. I looked down at her and remembered the happy I used to feel. That childlike, nothing-can-beat-it, innocent Happy. She led me back to it in a split second. Because of that song. She was beaming from ear to ear, hugging me and her little dog so tight I almost had to ask her to tone it down a little. But I daren't, for I never wanted the moment to end.

It did, a few bars into the song. And she turned to me and begged, "Can I PLEEEEASE watch this again? Right now!"

So from me to you, Johnny Young.... You are on a winner. You always were. Genius! I saw the emotion in your face tonight and had to swallow past a sudden lump in my throat watching how happy you were. It was so good to see you. We love the new format. Don't go changin'!

And to you, young Robert. So-called Millsy. You did well, Grasshopper. I was pleasantly impressed and surprised. The Talent is strong in you. Use it wisely, because if you don't there is a legion of mothers out there who grew up on YTT and need you to get it right. For the sake of their littl'uns! We've glimpsed the legacy. Don't you be messying it up, boy-o. Y'hear?

Image credit

"Good night, Australia!"

2012: The Year of.... Getting my house back

noreply@blogger.com (Being Me) — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 22:39:00 +0000

Well, sort of.

I'm not going to bang on (much) about how I'm walking around the house already crestfallen that I will be alone for most of the day five days a week. And that it will at times probably remind me of all those days, years ago, where I would roam the house while Steve was at work and I had empty arms and only the memory of my baby to reach out to.

How times have changed. Why won't I dwell on this?

Because yesterday, it dawned on me: when the LGBB starts school, I'm going to get my house back! I mean, I am going to be able to clean and tidy a room.... And it's gonna stay that way for the whole day!! This is a big deal when you work at home, tidying around a child (or children). Years ago, I gave over to the notion of being able to keep every room of the house spotless while there was a young person living here. Hell, I gave over to the prospect of having a house get all messed up when I started living with a man. But that's another issue entirely.

It seems like such a small thing. But I have a feeling it's going to actually be huge for me this year - the fact that I will be able to create some order, and I will be able to cast my eyes over things and my brain will register the orderliness. I think it will go a long way to brushing away some of the lingering blues, which I can safely call depression this far in to my life's journey, let's face it. That constant sense of never getting to the bottom of my list of what I would like to do in order that I feel like I've achieved anywhere near anything useful.... it's almost over. I know it!

I hardly want to imagine it, but I am beginning to look forward to the days of mopping the floors and them actually staying dust, fluff and footprint-free! For up to 5 hours at the very least! Mercy me. And that I will be able to clean rooms completely without a single interruption, meaning I will be free to actually finish cleaning them and not just give them a cursory once-over saying "That'll have to do" because duty calls in another part of the house.

Mind you, this doesn't alleviate the issue of the three animals we share this home with. Sigh. I feel like I am running a créche for animals some days, what with all the mess I have to clean up after them. Not that I'm calling my child an animal..... Although sometimes.... hey, if the shoe fits.

"Let It Snow!" This is why beanbags are evil.....

Is a house with some sense of order and/or cleanliness something that cheers you? Or do you not give a hoot either way?

Dear Miss Ellanor

noreply@blogger.com (Being Me) — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 01:14:00 +0000

Hello, lovely girl.

I'm getting swept up in wistful thoughts again. Wishing you were here this week.

Your little sister and I are getting ready to make a sweet feast on your birthday. You would have turned eight this Friday. I know 8. I remember 8. I felt so old, so grown-up. So ready to take on the world. It felt like an important birthday to me. Seems like such a wholesome number.

I feel a bit cheated this year for the first time in several years. Perhaps because I can remember being 8. And that hope-filled eight year-old in me is confused by all the hurt and pain. I have to nurture her, too, you know. Break this to her very gently. The world hurts. But it is such a beautiful hurt.

Thank you, my darling soul mate, for teaching me that lesson as well.

The other day, I was distracted in the kitchen. Stirring something on the stove, thinking several things at once. Deep in concentration. Out of the corner of my eye, my little girl walked in from the next room and stood a short distance away, saying expectantly, "Mum...." I looked up and said "Yeah?", expecting to see Lolly. She wasn't there. No one was. I stared at the vacant spot, disappointed my head hadn't turned a split second sooner. Lolly was metres away, caught up in her Barbie website. She looked over at me when I spoke and asked me, "What, Mum?" "Oh... nothing," was all I could stammer.

It was you, wasn't it? Well, thanks for coming, anyway! It was so wonderful to glimpse you. It's been too long.

You're there. I know you're there. Here's our song again, just for us. You and me, sweet pea.

You gorgeous, soft, strong, delicate rose. You hold the whole world, the entire Universe, in your soul. I know you do.

I miss you, Boo. I truly do.

Love

Love

Love,

Your Earth-bound Mother x

To view more letters to Ellanor and anniversary posts, please click here and scroll down.

2012: The Year of.... Contentment

noreply@blogger.com (Being Me) — Sat, 07 Jan 2012 23:40:00 +0000

We're reaching the pointy end of the holiday stick here in Australia, folks. I am getting to the stage where that blissfully still week between Christmas and New Year is going to be all but a distant memory soon. The past two years, I worked over that time. I've done it before. Doubtless, in my future years, I will do it again for various reasons/projects.

Not this year, though. This year I relaxed so much I almost became a liquid substance version of myself.

I am interested to see how long I can remain connected to the feeling and stretch it into this exciting new year.

When I think of the feelings and concepts that come up for me in this prayerful time, I have a pretty sublime looking list that I hope to carry with me into my Year of Contentment:

...anticipation. Despite (or because of) all its hardships, life will be good to me and my family.
...goodwill. Quiet, without fanfare or accolade or advertisement. The real kind. True service.
...frugal. Waste not, want not. This is the year to clean out.
...purge. As above, so below.
...be mindful of my mind. Where it goes, what it thinks, who it thinks about, why it believes it even has any business thinking about who it does. Further note to self: turn thinking "about" into pure... thought.

And just on that note, I am reminded to take with me this pearler that I picked up during my studies in 2011:

What others think about me is none of my business

For want of a more freeing statement, this has held true for me and has really helped me keep the "nah-nah-nah's" of my mind at bay more than once. Try it (if you need it too). It works.

Now, although I am not necessarily the one praying, there are others in the world in very zen states at this time of year (granted, you may not be/feel like one of them and fair enough!) - I am a great believer that (us being connected on some cellular/animal/vegetable/mineral level to the All) this group-conscious collective state filters through on some energetic level. How I react to that is varied. Sometimes it feels repellant to me and I resist, wanting to lash out, wanting to be pained... Not necessarily consciously realising that this is what I'm doing. Other times, I allow myself to align with the Zen State! I know it's the preferable way for me to be. But I don't beat myself up about not being there these days. Instead, I observe my behaviour and reactions with hindsight and move forward, better educated about what triggers me (and how I, in turn, affect others around me energetically with those triggered reactions).

If there are enough beings focusing their inner strength on being in a prayerful state, then surely it follows:

As within... so without.

Yes?

Are you in your prayerful state? Have you found it over the festive period? Or have you filled every single space in your time and mind so they are cluttered once more, before a new year has fully begun?

Defrag yourself! Hit that Reboot button in your psyche and refresh/clear the old patterns now so the new coding can be laid down afresh and set you on your true course for 2012.

2012: The Year of.... My Book finding an agent

noreply@blogger.com (Being Me) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 19:20:00 +0000

Otherwise known as Chasing Pavements.

By the end of 2012, if I have not exhausted every agent (Australian or otherwise) and started croakily imploring "Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements even if it leads nowhere?" Adele-style then please slap me, all of you, and tell me I should've tried much, much harder.

Here's the thing:
...I have a memoir ready to be published ... okay, polished by an editor of their choice then published.
...It's in two parts.
...Part 1 is 84,000 words - it loosely chronicles Steve's and my journey to parenthood for the first time and the abrupt end of our daughter's life.
...Part 2 is 77,000 words - it branches into the awakening of the positives to be found in the death of our baby, our IVF journey and culminates in the eventual "success" of a take-home baby. Enter stage left: The LGBB!
...I have been short-listing some agents since November but haven't nearly exhausted the list yet. It's a long process, trying to decipher who would be interested in my work.

I have had the diligent, supportive and helpful readers. I have had the critics. I have had the "you haven't written a book, you haven't even nearly finished writing yet" helpers who haven't read a single word {way to confuse me! I'm preeeeetty sure I have a well-rounded, well edited book here, or so I am being repeatedly told by very intelligent readers, so - with the greatest respect for your experience - perhaps offer to read it before you offer to tell me I don't have anything worth publishing yet!}. It's time to push the baby out of the nest.

But in which direction?

Ultimately, I feel the pressure of knowing none of it will have meant anything if I can't get this thing out there. I know, I know... the healing in the writing has to have been worth it... Blah-blah-blah. I'll cut to the chase and just say, no. It won't have been. If I can't get this off the ground, I will have fallen short of my goal and I can't let that happen. Not when Ellanor's memory is all over the darn thing. Besides, I never started writing it for any other reason. And I haven't written the book for that (self-healing). I was well through the worst of it when I began writing. As for the actual logistics of distributing the book, I'm not keen on self-publishing. I want to truly leave no stone unturned as I go down the traditional route of publishing. So I will be boning up on what I do know about how it all works - and will be scrambling to fix and change things according to what I learn, because there is SO much I don't know about how it all works! It's kind of like trying to find the end of a piece of string amongst a balled-up mass of intertwining threads and other people saying they have a vague idea of what you're looking for and where you'll find it, they saw it, oh... "over there somewhere, you'll find it, just keep looking..." Aaaaaargh. Just TELL meeeee!

*composure* Now I'm just starting to sound like Veruca Salt.

Image

What I hope to achieve is only going to be possible if someone has faith in the project. This is where I am going to call on the support of any readers out there who want to see it happen. Plenty of you have said "It HAS to get out there!" and "I am going to do all I can to spread the word... because the story needs to be told!" and words to that effect. It has buoyed and humbled me to the ends of the Earth. I truly hope that sometime in the not too distant future, I get to call you on your words and ask you to come good with them!

So, uh...... anyone know any good agent/s who don't mind a bit of real-life nitty-gritty wrapped up in a positive message?? Then help to hook me up, dagnabbit, starting with sharing this post! pretty please with a cherry on top

2012: The Year of.... The garden

noreply@blogger.com (Being Me) — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 22:02:00 +0000

Ummmm.... yeah, so weeding isn't our forté

There are a number of projects still tying up here post-renovation/extension. Just the words "extension" and "renovation" still make me shudder. Sure, the result is fantastic! In the end. That bit towards the end, though? When you see money draining out of your account like there's no tomorrow and EVERY single purchase is in the $thousands, you don't feel so much excited and sure of what you've set out to do, but more terrified you've made a huge mistake.

As the dust continues to settle - literally - and we patch up various natural disaster events and nail marks on architraves and skirting board sections that are still missing, the outdoor part of our humble ~~compound~~ abode is going along swimmingly.

A couple of years back, I joined Gardens For Wildlife. It's a council initiative that I have so far managed to convince two of our adjoining neighbours to try out. For the sake of their lawns/soil quality, the bird and other native wildlife, the insects, and their water bills (the neighbours' water bills, that is, not the fauna's...). What's not to love about contributing to the green belt we actually live in by regenerating our small areas of back and front yards with the types of plants that occurred naturally here until it was cleared 100 years ago??

In 2011, we made small changes to the garden. I have planted a hedge of indigenous natives along our front side fence line. Already, in just three months, the little single-stemmed 20cm tube stock plants have bushed out into beautiful, healthy knee-height specimens.

<------ Look at that! I have clipped this back three times.

And get this: I didn't even water the things in! This is where they grow best. I just bung them in, they will do the rest. This particular plant can be sculpted into any shape you can imagine. An elderly neighbour across the way has three of them. He has his shaped like a sphere, a box and an oblong sort of thing. They are works of art, to be sure (oh to have the spare time! One day...). Now, while I'm not going to go pruning mine into chess pieces anytime soon, it is wondrous to see a native looking every bit like the kind of expensive landscaping plant you'd find in the back yards of my website client's clients (just check these out for incredible!)

One of our random grevilleas, with its crazy-beautiful strange flowers

Lolly's frog pond

So, 2012. The year of the garden here. Over the year, I plan to...

...finish downsizing the roses that are struggling in the front yard.
...reintroduce indigenous native grasses to the front garden beds.
...reclaim some of our beautiful front yard lawn to accommodate a butterfly garden.
...help Steve create a small paved area off the front porch next to the frog pond the LGBB and I made out of her old baby bath in '10 and screen it with fast-growing, bushy feature natives.
...clear a decommissioned vegie patch in the back yard and turn it into a screened "fairy garden" area - the request has been taken from the LGBB to plant "tall grasses that you can't see over so I can hide behind them." Point: taken.
...plant a small (ha! are they ever truly small?!) flowering eucalypt in a bare back corner, away from the house.

How does your garden grow? Have you ever considered investigating local native species?

I would highly recommend you research what grows naturally in your area. For instance, a native in Gippsland could be a noxious weed here where I live, just four hours away. Not all natives are the same! Still Australian native, yes, but not necessarily ideal for your area. Talk to the experts, if you have any at your council or other such body - if nothing else, they might be able to advise what is best *not* to plant. You may be surprised what they recommend!

Remembered into being

noreply@blogger.com (Being Me) — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 06:40:00 +0000

Ellanor was borne into being long after she became a thought. I had introduced her to my closest confidantes before I got pregnant. She included herself in our lives before she was born. She touched down here for the most fleeting of days - 31 to be very exact - and then tripped back off again. Leaving me to gather together all the memories she had left me with, so I could lean on them. Desperately at first. Despairingly, longingly. But always fondly. Even the hard memories. And then I got stuck into sharing them, mostly here on this blog (and my old one). The more I did, the more I discovered that she remained vital in not just my life but the lives of others.

Later in 2004, I had not a clue, not a whisper of a dare of a hope that I might ever feel like opening my eyes for one more day on this Earth, let alone wonder if any more children were to be our fate. It's just lucky for us that it was. That I never continued my thought process to my eventual untimely end (and how to do it).

It's a tricky thing.

She had to leave. I had to stay. But I know why now.

Miss Lolly, a month after she burst my heart open even wider

The most endearing face in my world, 2008

Even when she makes more work for me, she is still my Heaven - 2011

For if she had not, the world would not have been able to welcome the shining light that is Ellanor's little sister. Like revolving doors, the two girls slipped past each other. Never destined to meet in the flesh.

But those memories I hold in my soft mother heart are Lolly's. They are there for her to wade in, explore, develop for herself. Memories that did not bring Ellanor into being but that ensure she has no beginning or end here on Earth, as it is wherever she goes now. She is the one who is free. She is the one who had the vision to come. And to go. How can I ultimately be anything but impressed by that sheer will? I am frankly in awe of her.

As long as we keep remembering. Their existence will continue to flourish.

In dedication to all the babies who are being cradled

in the memories of their families this festive season.

Peace be with you all.

Together, we will never let them fade.

The Life Path: Heading for my Balanced State

noreply@blogger.com (Being Me) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 21:39:00 +0000

"I take care of my own needs in order to take care of others."

This is my balanced state of existence. Self-preservation. There have been rare times in my life where I have mastered achieving it and it is something I do still have to work hard on. I am rarely in that state.

This is a bit of a different post today. 2012 is my year to get more serious on my blog with what I do. More on that as the year gets into full swing. But for starters, here is an opportunity to give back to you a little something of what I do "professionally" these days. I'd love to hear from you if it sounds like something that might be useful or relevant for you, so feel free to contact me. Confidentiality is assured (otherwise I'd be really quite shit at my work, wouldn't I!).

Okay? Read on if you're interested!

We all have a balanced state, unique to us. We also have deficient, excessive and fear states as well. When things aren't quite ticking along or seem out of kilter in our communication with others, or in the general way we see things in our lives, it can be helpful to gain further understanding so that we then have the free-will and choice to make change. In whatever direction. (Sometimes, I can have all the understanding about my particular way of being in a situation and still walk head-long - the long way around! - into further hurt and harm and shattering lessons)

My general life lesson/purpose is the responsibility of change - transition is my lot. For many years, I gnashed my teeth and was frustrated by the begin again and again and bloody AGAIN nature of my existence! When I discovered, through my study, a deeper understanding and purpose for this repetition, I had a far greater expansive awareness of myself and why I was going through the mill. Little by little, the begin-again lessons stopped, for I was able to look at each previously frustrating or hurtful occurrence in my life and learn about my role in them and whether there was anything in my power to change (if not how then) why they occurred. It was a turning point in my heal-the-healer journey I've been on.

The other states of the psyche, as I mentioned - and we all have these, but they are different for each of us - are "excessive", "deficient" and "fear". When we are striving to understand these, we can begin to have a more complete picture of what makes us tick.

My deficient state (when I am not quite feeling balanced and there is instead a depletion somewhere in my pattern) is "ego-centric", ie. "Things are not quite how I want them to be."
It's all about meee! There is a certain aspect of wanting to control with this one. I am very familiar with it! It, too, is a lesson that keeps knocking on my door and as my life progresses, I can now recognise that this is not a balanced way to live my life. It has been helpful to know.

My excessive state (when the pendulum is swinging too far in the other direction and I am over-grown with something) is "aggressive", ie. "I expect conflict in my life."
This is where I am currently. I have been in an extended period of the excessive state of the psyche. It is not comfortable, it has kinda lately become my new norm, even though I know I am not this aggressive person. Partially, yes - it is in there and I need to know it to be familiar with my whole Self - but to this degree and intensity and for this long? Nu-uh.

And get this: My fear state is "fear of death, or of birth."
Well, well, well. Hasn't that been one shock to my system then, eh?! It's little wonder, when I look at it, that I have been delivered the repetitive lessons that I have about death. And of birth. Why, my whole adult life so far has been consumed by both those things - the prospect of birth of each of my conceived children (that'd be 14 so far) and the death of all but one of them.

So, okay. I've mastered the fear state. I am familiar with but currently not steeped in my deficient state. I am going to diligently stay with the Excessive State lessons and see what I can work through. Because enough is enough.

------------------------

Have you reached a point where you're looking for another way? A bit of a break-through? That gnawing kind of feeling like you know there's something that is holding you at bay from "the next step" (whatever that is for you) but you just don't know what??

If anyone would like a consultation (online, via email) on their Life Path, I am available from January 2012. For a small fee, you will receive a pdf containing information specific to your numerological Life Path number, which is determined by your birth date. It can be general, as above, or a decade-specific one (ie. if you are in your 30's, the information provided can be specifically about your 4th decade here on Earth if you prefer!), or both if you want as much information as you can get. Also included are a couple of tools to support you along the way - your Animal and Plant totems (text), essential oil/essence understanding (text) and your Life Path colour mandala.

To get started, simply email me via kirrily@geneticfactor.com, send me a DM on Twitter, find me via Facebook.... there is a plethora of ways! All I need is your birth date (including the year) and a contribution via Paypal and you will have your Life Path reading in just a few days.

O (artificial Hudson Pine from Target) Christmas Tree, O (you get the picture)

noreply@blogger.com (Being Me) — Fri, 23 Dec 2011 00:00:00 +0000

It's fake, yes. And yet..... its branches are so lovely.

When it came to putting up the tree a week ago, I stood looking at all 7 /12' of it and sighed a resigned, tired sigh. I knew I would be the one pulling most of the decorations off in just a few short weeks. It all just looked like more work to me.

So this year, we went minimal bling, maximum lights. And whaddaya know?

It. WORKS! Like, really, reeeeally well.

A few choice obligatory kinder-made decorations,
some Santa's, maybe a sparkly silver snowflake or ten...

This year we gave Lolly a sparkly glittery fairy with butterfly wings
(I give her a new ornament each year, she has 6 now!)

Less time to put up means far less time to take down. A few favourite decorations here, a few choice strings of beads there, add a shit-tonne of fairy lights and...

Voilé! Tree is done and delightful.

Now this time is really the last Christmas post! Have a lovely one, everyone xxoo

All you need is love and understanding

noreply@blogger.com (Being Me) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 22:01:00 +0000

If this ends up being my final post before Christmas, well... how very fitting.

For a special woman (you know who you are) who is feeling it this week. Come on guys, let's all get in a big group hug. Put your word-weapons down and cop a bit of Ronnie James Dio with me. Shout it or sing it, either is perfectly acceptable here. Whatever makes you feel happy.

Merry Christmas if I don't get back in here! Remember there are a lot of emotions pinging about the place, peoples. Stresses that aren't usually there any other time of year, more realisations of what you've got or haven't got (or who you have or have lost) - and if you don't think it affects you.... think again. Even if not directly, others' energies will be having an effect on you as well. As always... go gently with each other.

----------------------------

The Butterfly Ball: who remembers this? In the 70's, I think, they used to play it as a filler between shows on the ABC - The Goodies, Monkey, maybe The Tomorrow People (god that show used to freak me out...) - and I always loved it as a young child. A friend re-introduced me to it earlier this year. So today, I'm posting it for her.

Love Is All

Ronnie James Dio/Roger Glover

Everybody's got to live together
All the people got to understand
So love your neighbour
Like you love your brother
Come on and join the band

Well all you need is love and understanding
Ring the bell and let the people know
We're so happy and we're celebratin'
Come on and let your feelings show

Coz love is all
Well love is all
Love is all can't you hear the call
Oh well love is all you need
Love is all you need at the Butterfly Ball

Ain't you happy that we're all together
At the ball in nature's countryside
And although we're wearing different faces
Nobody wants to hide

Love is all and all is love and
It's easy, yes it's so easy
At the Butterfly Ball where love is all
And it's so easy

All you need is love and understanding
Hey ring the bell and let the people know
We're so happy and we're celebratin'
Let your feelings show

Love is all, yes love is all at the Butterfly Ball
Love is big, love is small
Love is free, love is all
At the Butterfly Ball

When your back's to the wall
When you're starting to fall
You got something to lean on
Love is everything
It can make you sing
At the Butterfly Ball
Love is all, I say love is all, yes love is all
At the Butterfly Ball