Friendship, according to google, is a relationship of mutual affection between people. Google doesn’t define how often you “see” these friends as a condition of your friendship but after 10 years of moving around the State, when you finally live in the same City as your “friends” its really hard not to and I am struggling.

Moving from Perth and living in six different country towns over 10 years then moving back to Perth has definitely had its friendship pro’s and con’s.

Cons – I left the friends that I had made in Perth over the past 34 years.  Facebook had only just started back then (we left in 2007) and keeping up over the phone with a newborn was really hard. I lost my best friend in the first few years and the ones I came back to after 10 years understandably had either moved on without me or changed. Maybe I had changed? I don’t know, but I am struggling with the fact that some of the best friends I had from before we left have learned how to live without me and no longer require me in their lives. It really hurts and I am trying to work out how to not let it. Perhaps some friends people are now only there so you have someone to reminisce the past with when you eventually catch up for coffee every five years or so. Maybe that’s their role in your life now. Can people change roles in your life?? How does this happen seamlessly and without the hurt? I dunno. I haven’t worked that bit out yet.

Pros – I got to meet some absolutely beautiful people whom I never would have met and who got me through some of the most challenging times in my life. New friends who watched me become a mother for the first, and second time. New friends who I navigated the blur of the first 12 months of parenthood; who kept me sane. New friends who held my hand at midnight when I was admitted to a regional hospital for a D & C. New friends who’s houses became my second home during the isolation of new country towns. New friends who took me in when I knew absolutely nobody or in our second to last post, when my family had absolutely nowhere else to go. New friends who I cried for when I had to leave them less than 12 months after meeting them. New friends who we watched the footy with, had family BBQ’s with, playdates with; either cups of coffee or glasses of wine every other day. Day after day, in a few towns, year after year. New friends who taught me how to scrap, how to turn my hobby into a business, how to be a police wife and generally “got” me and my personality. I met some friends who I knew I would be lifelong friends with; people with whom I thought I had so much in common with, with whom I just clicked.

Now we are back in Perth. Some of these friends I have made still live in the country towns I met them in, and facebook is great to keep in touch with them. The long weekend coming up I am taking the boys down south for an overdue trip for a cuppa and a hug with my town bestie from our last posting. Other friends over time have also moved back to Perth and I was so excited when we came back that I had these beautiful people in my own home town. From meeting them, leaving them, missing them and then once again living in the same town was something I really looked forward to when we decided to come “home”. What I wasn’t prepared for was that despite being only a half hour drive away as opposed to 5-600km away, nothing had changed. The facebook relationship that had sustained our actual friendship was still just that. A facebook relationship. Our coffee and wine catchups every other day which had been replaced with a “like” or a “share” or a “comment” due to geography remained the same. I dont know if it was because we had just become conditioned to hitting that “like” button and having it replace a hug or a smile over a cuppa but I cant tell you how much I missed that physical contact with my friends. And it slays me that they are within driving distance of a lunch date but have absolutely no commitment in taking it past the interface of a screen.

Everybody says they are busy.  I am busy. I now work full time and I have 2 kids. But I crave the company of my friends. I want to SEE them, not just their face in a photo on facebook. There is a meme floating around basically saying that the best friends we have don’t care how often they catch up; they understand we are all busy and things are just the same whenever they eventually do see each other.  But I call bullshit. Friends make time for each other. They prioritise their friendship. They think about their friends and then the next natural step is thinking when can I see them and then reaching out to organise something. Have we become so conditioned to a “like”, a “comment” or basic cyber acknowledgement replacing physical friendship?? The last time I saw a friend she said her Mum wasn’t well, cancer.  I reached out so many times to actually see her because facebook can’t cuddle, can’t look into her eyes, can’t ask the tough questions and cant just sit with someone and enjoy the silence together. I wanted to BE THERE for my friend in her time of trouble, not have that time of trouble used as an excuse to not see me. Is that too much to ask, for just ONE day; asking month after month; school holiday after school holiday?

Another meme I have seen is one that says “if you lower your expectations you wont be so disappointed”. Whilst this is true and I did try to live by that last year, and derived a certain amount of comfort in it, its not doing it for me anymore. I don’t want to live my life that way. I just want to be valued the same way I value others. Is that really asking too much?

At the moment I am trying to figure it all out. I’m not doing well. I am reacting to the rejection. I have “unfriended” friends after trying so, so hard and giving up because the the rejection all hurt too much.  I have stopped following others who I have reached out to too many times so as to not see who they are prioritising above me. Seeing this makes me question the sort of person/friend I am, and I hate that. Maybe Im such a shit person and thats why people don’t want to catch up??? I am slowly giving up making the one-sided effort, reassessing my needs and protecting myself from further hurt. I am valuing the new friends I have made in Perth since we came back, the ones whose friend-ship hasn’t sailed.

I think in hindsight, this whole friendship thing has been the hardest part of following Mr Point Five around the State for his job over the past 10 years. I think this aspect has cost me the most, hurt me the most. Friendship wise I really wish we had stayed put. The pro’s seem to have been short-lived and the costs were huge. But it is what it is. I am going to try to move forward: in love with the friends I have, the ones who reach out to me; not put so much faith or expectations in the friends I made along the way, know that they helped me when I needed it and hopefully, I them; and learn to leave my past in my behind as Poombah would say.

I was just reading a post on The Imperfect Mum from a reader who had a toxic relationship with her mother. One of the other readers suggested she see a therapist so that she could grieve the relationship that she never got to have with her mother. It got me thinking.

I’ve always associated grieving with the loss of an actual person, when someone dies. It never really occurred to me to grieve the idea of something. But it makes sense, doesn’t it? Just acknowledging the empty space where something ought to have been…..

I wrote this post five years ago which explains a bit about my Mum. I touch a little on the resentment that stems from having a Mother with a mental illness but lately the resentment has been rising to the surface more often. Since we have come back to Perth, she has been able to need me more as I am geographically more available.  She went into the psych ward whilst we were on our cruise in June and spent three months there. She would call me 3 or 4 times a day and expect me to come every time she cried, which was every day. I am an only child; she expected me to be her saviour, her punching bag, her penance, her sanity, her reason and I don’t want to be. I have my own family that I have worked hard for. We have had our own troubles and God forbid if things are going well and I actually get a chance to enjoy my own lot in life, just for a while. The trouble with saying No is the guilt. The guilt that had me throwing up the minute I walked in my front door from spending the day at the hospital with her. The guilt that had me breaking out in a full body rash and bed bound with nausea on the days I wen to visit. Guilt from not doing enough, not being able to do enough and worst of all, not wanting to do enough.  I will tell you I came very close to changing my number and pretending I didnt have a mother. But I didn’t. I continued with the charade until the storm passed and she is finally out of hospital, this time into a nursing home, a whole new drama.

Its funny how we are obligated to our parents. I mean, we had no choice as to who they were. They raised us and we are expected to look after them in old age as they looked after us in youth. My mother idolises me; puts me on a pedestal and thinks I can do no wrong. She tries to be there by asking the right questions but I have never been able to tell her the truth. She reacts to things differently to you and I and takes everything personally. She absorbs everyone else’s problems so my troubles become hers and she frets about them as her own until she is in the psych ward again. She means well, but its suffocating. I am forever 8 years old. Even when she would tell me off as a child and send me to my room, within minutes she would be in there with me, sitting on the bed sobbing and begging for my forgiveness. Always about her and her feelings; never actually able to look after me and mine.

The first time I got married I invited both her and my father. She hadn’t seen my father since my 21st birthday, 8 years earlier but the mere thought of her seeing him again far outweighed the importance of my day and the day before I got married she was admitted to the psych ward. I didn’t have my own mother at my wedding. The result of that was I didn’t tell her when I got married the second time. I didn’t tell her when I went into labour with G Man or Master J and she doesn’t know that we nearly lost Mr Point Five last year or the real reason why we are back in Perth. I love her very much, but I shield her from everything that I need support with and I resent the hell out of that. I didn’t really realise how much I resent that until she was sick this last time. Why is she allowed to need me for everything when I can’t need her for anything? Her mental illness has robbed her and I both. It has robbed us of that beautiful mother/daughter relationship that I see so many people take for granted; with hot soups brought to them when they are sick or help around the house with a newborn. It eats away at me and the resentment grows.

SO, back to grief therapy for the Mother I never had. I wouldn’t describe it as harsh as toxic as we both love each other, but how can I learn to accept the relationship we have always had, without the wistful longing and jealousy?

What are your thoughts? Has anyone done this? Has it worked? Is it worth it? Are there any home remedies I could try instead?

For those of you who read my last post this post will make more sense. Due to an unexpected health hiccup in our plans we have decided to move back to the big smoke on a permanent basis, where city policing is significantly different from regional policing and a position can be found for Mr Point Five that is more suited for him and our family at this time.

So after leaving Perth straight after his academy graduation in August 2007; six towns, eight houses and 10 years later, we are finally moving back “home”. G Man who is finishing year 4 this year has been to five different schools and Master J, aged 6, has already called five towns home. Its time.

We were told last Wednesday that three weeks from then the moving trucks would be arriving and packing up all our belongings. We have no home in Perth anymore so we are combing the real estate websites looking for homes to buy that will be near Mr Point Fives Station. Its really tough trying to buy a house from 600 km away!  We have seen a few; Mr Point Fives parents have gone to look at a few for us and my Dad and his wife are viewing three more tomorrow. If we get the tick of approval from the parentals that it does indeed look like the house online and there are no hidden surprises, we will put in an offer on Monday; yes, from 600km away without viewing it ourselves! Eeeep. CRAZY! The idea is for prepack on the 19th, uplift on the 20th so we stay at a chalet in town, and drive out on the 21st December with Mr Point Five potentially starting work on the 22nd. We will move in with the in-laws until settlement which will hopefully be before the boys start school on January 31st. Thats the plan; will keep you updated.

So we arent putting the tree up this year which I am struggling with; we have a LOT of Christmas stuff and to put it up only to take it down 2 and a half weeks later would be painful. Perhaps we should have put it up mid November….ah well. Sheldon our elf arrived yesterday with his traditional advent calendar so we have that sense of normalcy of Christmas I guess. But its nowhere near. I’ll have to remember to move that lil fucker here til the 19th, and in the Motel, and at the in-laws, and keep him hidden in transit but I guess it will be worth it if thats the only Christmas tradition the boys will have this year. On the bright side we will be having Christmas Day with family instead of just the four of us, so that will be nice. Our first Christmas back in Perth in 10 years.

I have been job hunting. It kills me to resign from my gorgeous job down here and I will miss it terribly. In this little town of 500 it was a very rewarding job to shape the community ambiance and bring joy and happiness to the town. I love to make people smile. The jumping pillow is like my third child here Another casualty of county policing is the spouse and their job; they just get settled into a rewarding position and RIP! All gone and start again. I have never had an issue getting a job in any of our towns; it has been a perk of Mr Point Fives job. I have even had jobs offered to me in the next town before I have even left our last town! Crazy. But Perth will be different with lots of competition and lets face it, at 44 I aint getting any younger. After 10 years of being “someone” before I have even arrived in a town, it will definitely feel odd to be a nobody. I know this will be mentally challenging for me as weird as it sounds. In Perth I definitely will NOT be telling people what Mr Point Five does; I’ll say he is in waste removal or something.  Im guessing my little cake business will have way too much competition as well as my Jamberry business and these will fall by the wayside; thats a bit sad but as least I will have 2 cool cakes to make each year.

The kids are OK with the impending move; they know it will be our last and we are looking for a school that carries through to year 12 so they don’t have to move school again with the transition to high school. G Man is cruisy, embracing the adventure whilst Master J is hesitant; there have been tears, worried that once again he is abandoning his friends, worried he wont make new ones. Some of the friends we have made around WA in the last 10 years with kids have since moved to Perth so that will be fantastic; having some mates for the boys already there to look forward to. I of course have the mates I left 10 years ago plus the ones I have collected over the past 10 years who are now in Perth. I know some of those relationships have changed but I hope a lot haven’t and I am both excited and nervous at reintroducing myself again. Thanks to facebook, the good eggs have always kept in contact over the hiatus so fingers crossed I will have the mates in the flesh I have desperately missed moving around so much.

So. Its pretty busy round these parts. I went to the hospital yesterday, a 100km round trip to get some antibiotics for a sinus infection I have been battling for nearly two weeks. My resting pulse rate was 128 bpm and my blood pressure was 168 over 70 so I guess I am a little stressed about the move, buying a house we haven’t seen, the impact and effect on the kids, Mr Point Fives health and finding a bloody job, because you know, mortgage!! Watch this space and the next post will be written as a city cop wife; whatever that role may be. Might have to change my blog header pic

Without going into too many details this has been our past six months. Thursday February 23rd Mr Point Five came home early from work, feeling queasy and light headed. Said he felt like he was getting a cold. We nursed it over the weekend but by Sunday night I had made him an appointment for 4pm the next day with the doctor as he was going steadily downhill, barely able to stand; we both thought it was a bad cold that might need some antibiotics to kick it. You can imagine my surprise and stress when he rang me from the doctors and asked me to pack him a bag and that the ambulance was on its way to take him to our nearest airport where he would be airlifted by the Royal Flying Doctor Service to Perth. I dropped in his bag, kids with me; he was already on the stretcher with iv drips in his arm and a medical gown on, looking so very pale. There was talk of sepsis, as his blood oxygen level was critically low. Once home I googled sepsis; daft idea. REALLY daft. Scared the crap out of myself, home alone with the boys whilst my husband was potentially taking his last breath without me. Dramatic I know but I was truly scared.

He spent a week up in Perth in the hospital, with his parents parked at his bedside, and after MRI scans, CT scans and all sorts of blood tests, was eventually discharged with no diagnosis, assuming he would improve from whatever mystery “virus” he had contracted. Good news was that sepsis was ruled out. His dad drove him the six hour drive home; he stepped out of the car and looked exactly as I had left him a week earlier, pale and unsteady. That was March 8th, G Mans 9th birthday. He tried to return to work the following week but it was soon clear that he was unable to work and he convalesced at home with no idea of what he had; just lots of visits to the doctor and trials with various pain medication with symptoms of a relentless migraine that would not move. Just before Easter he went into the kitchen to get a cup of tea and just about collapsed on the floor. I booked him in to the doctor again the next day, and when he arrived he was once again sent by ambulance to our nearest regional town, about 3.5 hours away for a lumbar puncture to try to figure out what the hell he had. Another week in hospital, away from us and his parents. No results from the lumbar puncture but he was sent home with a vague diagnosis of New Daily Persistent Headache.  Whatever the hell that was.

His parents drove down to be with the boys and once they arrived I drove 3.5 hours to pick him up from hospital on Easter Monday, returning home Easter Tuesday; a very worrisome Easter this year, just the three of us.

The drugs that were prescribed by the hospital did nothing, he was in excruciating daily pain with no relief; after a month or so it was back to the doctor for a referral to a neurologist. Hurry up and wait and finally an appointment up in Perth in June. His Dad drove drove the 6 hours down to pick him up, 6 hours back up to Perth. Then 3 days later drove him home 6 hours and then drove back to Perth, another 6 hours. God love his parents. The neurologist agreed with the second hospital diagnosis.

Since then we have been experimenting with whatever the neurologist has been giving him. There is no quick relief so it seems as it is such a new diagnosis; not much is set in stone for “fixing” it. We realised that it may not get “better” before he could start work and that it might become something that would need to be “managed” at work as well as home before it finally got better. After nearly 5 months off work and 5 months of me being peppered with fruitless questions from relatives, friends and concerned town-folk, he finally went back to work, albeit 4 hours a day. I finally had something positive to report to neverending queries!  At least it was a start as I was going slowly mad with him at home 24/7 and being more than useless; sleeping 12 hours at night and in crippling pain during the day. I organised his dad to come down for two weeks to look after him whilst I escaped the monotony with the boys and took them to Perth for some much needed fun after the previous sad and uncertain April school holidays. You will remember my fun July school holiday photos and none had Mr Point Five in them.

So he started working 4 hours a day for a month and then stepped it up to 6 hours a day a month ago now. He is still in constant pain but it is being managed. Even when it is being managed, any light causes the pain to ramp up substantially so he has been gracing our dinner table in sunglasses every night; very classy The photophobia has also prevented him from going outside at all in the day; no trips to the shops, no beach walks with kids, no walking the dogs, no going out together as a family on the weekend. MasterJ started Nippers footy this year for the first time and Mr Point Five missed every game, even the final where his son kicked six goals. It was very depressing for him; frustrating for me and upsetting for Master J.

Anyway, just wanted to celebrate with you that last night for the first time in over six months, we finally went out together as a family. We went to our local pub at night, for dinner, which we used to do on a fortnightly basis before February, and we enjoyed a “regular” night out. He wore his sunnies and despite a bit of discomfort we managed to get through the night. Yah!!! It is still a long road to go as this “thing” can last for a while but we are moving forward, however slowly. I no longer feel quite like a Police Wife fraud, as he is finally back at work. Its amazing how much we aquire our identity by what our spouse does for a job, especially being a police family. I didn’t feel justified blogging or commenting as a Police Wife as my husband was helpless at home, or office-bound, unable to work in the field. Its an odd feeling how intertwined and connected ourprofessional lives are. Im not sure who I would be if he wasnt a Police Officer; I mean I would, don’t get me wrong, I have a very fulfilling job in this town, but it has become a badge that the whole family wears, something we breathe and a code we live by.  Being behind the blue line is where we stand as a family and I am so glad we are on the road back to it full-time. Call me crazy, but I cannot wait for that work phone to go at 2am and for him to be able to attend a job to help someone, save someone or comfort someone. Pretty sure that will wear off, but for now I cannot wait!

On the last Tuesday of every month I take minutes for my works monthly meeting which starts at 730pm so I am not home for the teeth, book and bed routine with the boys. It has occurred to hubby that on these nights Master J doesnt get out of bed.

Huh.

And then, and this is the kicker, hubby says to me that he thinks the reason that Master J is getting out of bed each night is to seek my attention.

What the what now??

I set my alarm for 0655 each morning so I am up 5 minutes before the boys get up; so the lights are on and the house feels inviting to them. I make them a hot chocolate and get them their breakfast. I get their school clothes out and supervise both socks AND shoes are on. I pack school lunches, check the online weather to see if I need to pack a jumper as well. I drive them to school, making sure they have their school bags and deliver them to their classes before heading to work myself. I then leave work, go to the shop and buy what we need for dinner then go to school and pick them up. I bring them home, supervise their homework and make another hot drink for them. At 430 I start to get dinner on and we all sit down together at 5pm for dinner and chat about our day. After dinner I run their bath and Master J usually sits on my lap at 6pm whilst I try to watch the news. At 715 I instigate bedtime, and I brush Master J’s teeth for him, make sure he does a wee before bed and then Mr Point Five (when he is home) reads them a story before lights out at 730 and I am mentally fried. This is every weekday. EVERY week day except Wednesday when I also take Master J to footy training at 430pm and Mr Point Five says I dont spend enought time with him and that he is craving my attention? Most of my non-work hours are spent in thoughts about my kids; what I need to do for them, what I am doing for them, what needs to happen in the futures, both near and far. I am thinking about today, tomorrow, the dentist appointment next week, what I will do with them next school holidays so they dont get bored. You have to be kidding me; my life revolves around my kids!

But then I thought about it; its true, sometimes I feel suffocated by the mental effort it takes to raise kids, most of the time as a solo parent. I feel overwhelmed, I feel I am navigating from one day to another waiting for a break that will never come. I feel that I give all my time to my children. But its not quality time; its the shit time that it takes to get things organised. I am resentful that I get no quality time for me as every time I sit down to do something, I either feel guilty that Im not doing more with the kids so I dont focus, or I get interrupted to do something menial for the kids and it annoys me. In amongst all this “doing” for the kids, its not quality time actually DOING anything with them. Maybe thats what Mr Point Five was saying. When he gets home from work, he has none of the day to day house/kids stuff to worry about so the time he spends with them is always quality time. But its hard; its so effing hard to get out of “organised mum” mode and get into “fun mate” mode with the kids when there is so much Mum stuff that I need to make happen every day.

But I think I need to try; I need to ask the kids (at least on the weekend) what they want to do and help them make that happen without resentment of feeling that I am missing out on me time by doing it. So today Master J wanted to go to the skate park. I did NOT want to go to the skate park so we went to the skate park. I spent 2 hours with him doing what he wanted to do. I watched avidly, videoed him, and he came running over to see each one; thought it was awesome. I gave him the thumbs up with each dismount and really engaged with him. Coincidently, after we got home I felt able to sit down to write this, guilt free for the first time in ages. AND, it was uninterrupted time! It dawned on me that by concentrating solidly on spending a few quality hours of time with him that I would then be returned with quality time for me as well, instead of staying home and getting frustrated by halfarsed “Mum” time and nobody winning. He has been wanting to learn how to cook for a while now and I have been procrastinating because you know; cooking and six year old kids. Blegh. BUT I will start early tonight and he can help me make meatballs. I will shelve my frustrations about it and enjoy his company. Maybe we can do this each weekend for one of the dinners. He says he wants to be on MKR with me one day and loves to sit on my lap and watch it with me on Sunday nights until the first ad break when its time for bed:)

Its been a pretty big realisation and I plan to do more of it each weekend. Lets see if the bedtime shenanigans ease off as well. Although as frustrating as they are I know I will miss them when they stop. “Mummy it smells like old woman in my room and I cant sleep” Too funny.

The mum/home/kids/me time is so hard to balance isnt it?  Instead of trying to do it all at once and be Supermum, maybe its best to split the times up to make the best of each moment with no multitasking. Its a tricky concept as us women are so used to multitasking every day but perhaps our kids need our pure focus sometimes? Pffft, no multitasking – no wonder Mr Point Five is so good at it!!

What do you think? Am I onto something here or did you guys already know this and I am slow on the uptake?

]]> http://twopointfivekids.com.au/2017/04/how-not-to-multitask-unit-101.html/feed 1 4597 http://twopointfivekids.com.au/2017/03/faq-tenure.html http://twopointfivekids.com.au/2017/03/faq-tenure.html#respond Sun, 26 Mar 2017 07:32:23 +0000 http://twopointfivekids.com.au/?p=4588

One of the more popular questions I get asked is why we have to move so much? Having lived in 5 towns in 5 years I can certainly see why. Due to exceptional circumstances, we have moved a LOT but the usual tenure for stations is 2-4 years. We are required to stay a minimum of 2 years in a town as it costs a lot to move the officer and their family and after 4 years you are told to hustle on. You can break the two year minimum for promotion, as they usually dont like you to be promoted within your existing station, or you can leave before the 2 years is up in extenuating circumstances, such was our last move. But generally when you relocate to a regional station you know your time there will most probably be 2-4 years.

The other part of this question is why does tenure exist? What is it there for? Why do they make you move and disrupt your family? The short answer is that we arent supposed to get too comfortable in our town. Being comfortable can lead to complacency. We arent supposed to be too friendly with the locals as it is feared that the job of policing is made far more difficult when you are expected to police your friends. Familiarity can lead to potential corruption and it is thought by the upper establishment that if you make friends in your town, you are less likely to issue tickets etc if they are pulled over. Locals may expect their mate Sergeant Smith to let them off a speeding ticket if they had dinner with them down at the pub last week. This can be particularly true in such a small town. I am certainly not saying that this happens, but I can can see why it could be assumed. Its a catch-22. Police need to be friendly with the locals to gain their confidence and glean community information but they arent encouraged to actually be friends with them. Not that it has ever been officially said like that, but it is certainly how it feels.

Normally in country towns there are quite a few other police families to socialise with and take the social pressure off, but down here there is only one.  We will really have to make more of an effort to try to find “our people” down here and get out more. Friends who understand and accept the consequences of Mr Point Fives job are very hard to find. And then when it takes four years to find them,  you have to leave them!

Mr Point Five has been off with hand surgery and other worries for part of this year, so not the best year for him as he hates being on the sidelines and much prefers to be in the thick of his policing so to speak. 2017 is going to be a better year for him professionally I hope.

The boys have had a wonderful year at school; they are so settled and both performed beautifully in their end of year school play and presentation night. After 2015, it was very emotional as a parent to see them so happy and enjoying their school year so much. I think it is safe to say they have put the tumultuous past behind them and are firmly entrenched in their new home. Lets just hope we can do another three years here as this town really suits them.

I have had a good year. I have thrown myself into our new town with work 18 hours a week, and volunteering outside work hours for the NFP group that I work for. To my utter shock and embarrassment, I received a nomination for the Community Citizen of the Year, decided on Australia Day, which is crazy after living here for less than a year.  I won’t win it, as I am sure there are other more worthy recipients than me, but it really is an honour to know that at least ONE person (besides my gorgeous husband) in town thinks I am an asset. Ironically I will be volunteering my time to cook the breakfast that I received an invite to attend as a nominee

Despite finding my work groove here, I still haven’t found my personal groove and met “the one”, but the picture below is my mantra and I am just fine.

I am fine with my little family for company and I get my sustenance from them. I don’t get invited out for coffee or have anyone over for a wine or two after hours. Yet I am confident that I am a good and honorable person, if not with a warped sense of humour, and the right person will come along who just “gets” me. If not in this town, then the next and I am happy to wait. I have all my mates from towns gone by right here on facebook to chat to, and we have had a few friends over the past year from around WA who have made the effort to come down our way which means the world to us.

I have stopped following quite a few angst ridden and “look at moi” people/pages on facebook and I feel so much better for it! Instead of being upset and rejected by some “friends” posts and really letting it get to me, I simply unfollow them from my newsfeed; they can think we are still friends and nobody gets hurt. Win-win. You cannot force people to include you in their life and everyone has a different perception of friendship. Its amazing the relief you get from hitting the unfollow button and simply not allowing the perceived negativity into your life to start with. Poof! I honestly think this has really helped me turn a corner within myself as I had been in tears to Mr Point Five on regular occasions at the start of this year and I really do feel like a different, more calm and grounded person, despite not having met my person. I definitely have a good and bubbly feeling about 2017.

2016 saw my first acknowledgment of our own immortality with the shock death of one of my girlfriends husbands. She and I were pregnant together with our first bubs and our second bubs were born within months of each other. It really hit home how fragile life is and put a whole new perspective on motherhood and being a wife. I try to snap less and laugh more. Don’t sweat the small stuff and pick your battles. Say YES to your children sometimes instead of an instinctive flat NO; it wont hurt all the time. It really makes you want to throw caution to the wind and just get out and LIVE life; don’t wait for the perfect day; create the perfect day. Right now.

Anyway – a brief wrap up; nothing that you don’t know already if you have been following me on facebook. I have another #policewifelife blog post brewing which I might get done once all the flurry of Christmas rellies depart

Much love and I hope you and yours have a wonderful, healthy and rewarding 2017. Thank you for following along on our travels. Drive safely out on those roads won’t you?

 A month or two ago I was contacted by the lovely people at Viva Photography. They invited me to be a part of their campaign to celebrate and make each individual feel incredible for being exactly who they are. My role in the campaign would involve a complimentary photography session, with a personalised Viva photography portrait session experience. I would receive imagery from my session and they were also happy to donate vouchers to my readers as long as I shared my session with you all.

Country living does have knobs on it sometimes. Doing the school holiday math with our jobs, we cant even get away for a holiday together; let alone a wonderful photo shoot that would capture our little family, right here, right now.

It has been nearly 5 years since our last professional photos were shot and it really is time we had some more done. Children grow up so fast and it is so important and beautiful to be able to capture those memories. We had a stunning print made from our last session and it hangs proud and centre above Hubbys desk in the lounge. I would love to have it updated and I tell you what; as soon as we get the chance next year to head up as a family, you know who I will be calling yeah? Viva Photography with one of their seven, yes SEVEN Perth locations and three in Melbourne. I cannot wait!

And hello….Christmas for the Grandparents – Sorted!

So I emailed back and regretfully declined, but I then had the audacity to ask if I could still have some Vouchers to giveaway to my readers. Hey, you don’t ask, you don’t get.

And guess what??

The fantastic Viva Photography PR Manager said Yes, sure you can!

She has offered me a $1000 Gift Certificate which includes:

• 1 Hour Studio Photo Session (Valued at $250)

• Cinematic Viewing and Ordering Session

• $750 to spend on their range of stunning wall art.

PLUS

THREE $600 Gift Certificates which include:

• 1 Hour Studio Photo Session (Valued at $250)

• Cinematic Viewing and Ordering Session

• $350 to spend on their range of stunning wall art.

To enter, all you have to do is like their Facebook page and then share in 25 words or less in the blog comments

   “What would be something you would love to capture in your life right now?” 

Viva Photography is all about capturing people’s stories.

Term and Conditions.

* This post was written with cooperation from Viva Photography

* This is not a sponsored post. I was given nothing, and paid nothing. I just want you guys to have the opportunity to win what I couldn’t take advantage of. Boo for me. But yay for you.
* This competition is open to Australian residents only.

* The winner must be able to attend one of the Studio Locations or be willing to give the prize to a friend/family member who can attend one of the locations.

* The competition runs from Wednesday 9th November 2016 and finishes at midnight Sunday 13th November 2016 AEST.

* The winner will be determined by an anonymous outside judge, and based solely on answers given. Their judgement is final.

* The winner will be drawn on Monday 14th November and will be notified here on this post and emailed after Monday 14th November. They will have 3 days to claim their prize. If the winner is not contactable, the prize will be redrawn.
* The prize is not redeemable for cash and Two Point Five Kids is not responsible if the prize is not received, although I will make every effort to ensure a successful competition for all.

One of the big downsides to being a country Police Family and moving all the freaking time is the fact that we don’t just “fit in” to every new town. It takes time to get to know people and for them to know you. It takes time for them to work out if you are joking or if you are just really rude and missed the sarcasm

We don’t have traditions. I mean, we do to a certain extent; I try really hard to maintain some sort of continuum, but when the Christmas tree has been in a different house for the past five Christmases and when the boys little mates are different for every birthday party it makes it more than a tad difficult.

Growing up, I lived in the same house until I was 14. Despite changing school a few times, I kept the same routines and traditions and played on the weekend with the same kids. Our Christmas tree was always in the same spot and I walked the same path to school for five years straight. Even then, when I went to high school (on two buses and a train), that same path took me to the corner shops on the weekend and down to various mates houses; it was well worn.

I took the boys up to the Perth Hills on the last school holidays to show them where I grew up. It totally spun me out and I have to say I had to hold back the tears. Master J was quite concerned but I managed to convince him that they were just a few “happy tears”. I’m not actually sure what they were. Nearly 30 years after I had left, and 42 years after my parents designed and built it, it still had the same fence running down the driveway; the same Pussy-tail bushes lined it. I drove around and parked under the house and walked along the same track I had traversed hundreds of times as a child. I wondered if my feet were touching the same pebbles. The exterior of the house has changed a bit; the back verandah which used to be clad in bougainvillea is now more modern. The shed my Dad built was still standing and a swing still hangs from the same branch in the same tree on the hill in the backyard. The same creek gurgled along next to the path that I used to catch tadpoles in. It was like time has stood still, only I had aged and I was walking the same path with my children. If the boys weren’t with me I think I would have sat and sobbed for a while.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, in our new town. The new person with no history here.

Two weeks ago Mr Point Five and I reached a parenting milestone; we allowed our children out to ride their scooters on the footpath of our street whilst we stayed inside. We sat inside and locked eyes, resisting the urge to go and stand at the bottom of the drive and monitor. This was the first town where we felt that it was safe for them to do this. This was the first town that they had little mates who came to the door and asked them outside to play. This was the first town where, not us so much, but our kids had fit in and were making real mates and they could do what I used to do as a child. I cannot even BEGIN to convey the relief I feel as a Mother about this milestone. On weekends I would wave to my Mum and went to meet mates down at the old mulberry tree down the track. I would come in with stained hands and skinned knees when I heard my Mum yelling down from the verandah that it was time to come home. We are not quite up to that bravery (from me as a parent) but we have started taking baby steps to get there. Master J goes out when he gets home from school and at 5 o’clock I stand at the drive and call for him to come in for dinner….with more than a tear in my eye that finally in this town, we might be fitting in, be one of “normal” ones, just like the Jones.

Their childhood, their normal everyday childhood, has finally started. NOW!

This was the boys first time trick or treating. I LOVE that they can do this in our new town – finally just like everyone else (and like all the kids on Youtube Mummy!)

First it was one, then two and now three. Three emails/messages in the past month from readers wanting to know if I’m OK because they had noticed a change in my blog/presence since we have moved to our new town. I know I have been a little slack quiet in the blogging department and I do try to keep my facebook page ticking over and interactive so you are updated with our news. My blog is basically an extension of a facebook status; when my updates become too lengthy for facebook, I pop them over onto the blog.  My blog posts are a mixture of general thoughts on being a Police Wife, general updates on us as a family or me as a person, ranty pants posts on things that get my goat, specific incidences that have happened to us, stories about the kids etc. I have been thinking on why I have gone M.I.A. on my blog since we moved…..

The Police Wife posts: this blog and the facebook page are monitored by Mr Point Fives bosses and I do not want to say anything that would a) bring his reputation into disrepute and b) say something through ignorance that could compromise his position. Blogging as a police wife in a small town is a learning curve for me with all the unsaid do’s and don’t’s and I am constantly second guessing everything I post; there are so many avenues to garner the same information besides from your husband in a small town, and inaccurate conclusions are the worst. Its mentally exhausting.  I was also sent an email/blog comment from a reader basically saying that I shouldn’t speak on behalf of all Police Wives and that she thought I was being too subservient to my Husband and his Job. I disagree entirely, as his job is more than a job, it is a lifestyle we have chosen and the law that he has sworn to uphold is above us all. I have never said I speak on anyone’s behalf but mine, but her comment annoyed me enough to batten down my bloggy hatches for a while.

The Personal Posts: before arriving at this town I was already known by a few savvy blog readers who had put 2 and 2 together and worked out that I was now living in their home town. Being such a small town, with comments on facebook from readers popping up in other peoples newsfeeds, I realised that it wouldn’t be long before all the school Mums would find me here and I didn’t want to come across as whinging, ungrateful, sad or lonely. I didn’t want to be pitied or known too much about before I could actually introduce myself in person! I also don’t want to elaborate too much on the kids embarrassing exploits as it might get back to their little mates in school.

The Ranty Pants Posts: one thing I have learnt from Mr Point Fives job is that we never know the full story until we are behind the closed door and have heard first hand from both parties. If you have read something on a News.com page, seen it on a TV programme, even a “reputable” one, or heard it on the evening news, I have learnt that it is never the full story, not half, not even close. To have an opinion should mean you are well educated on the subject and watching a 4 Corners exposee is not being educated; it is simply believing what they choose to show you. It makes you gullible, not educated, on the subject. I had my Mum asking me recently wanting to know what I thought about Brangelina – I have no opinion as all I have heard is the medias version of one side of a story. Why would I even think I could have the privilege of an opinion? My opinions are reserved for things that affect me and mine; the rest is hearsay. All media try to sell a story; they go in with an end objective in mind.  Nic Nat “Blackface”, the treatment of children in detention centres, the “real” killer of JonBenet Ramsey (oh puh-lease!) The media are already the storyteller, judge and jury. Their job is to arrive at a conclusion; they never get all sides of a story. I am realising more and more that other peoples stories are just that; other peoples stories and I do not have a right to an opinion on them, garnered from what I have seen or read on outlets owned by people with an agenda. I am tired of people being insulted or offended because they think they should be and not because the incident has affected them directly. I have unfollowed many pages/blogs recently because of all the sensationalist angst and high horses.  I am finding that less things outside my circle irritate me now; for better or for worse.

So there you have it.

I am still very active on facebook, I am running giveaways (I have an awesome one coming up soon where you can win a fantastic family photo shoot! – just in time for Christmas) and if things take my fancy I will pop over here and elaborate on my thoughts.  I am good; loving my job but it is very full on for only 18 hours a week and only 4 weeks leave a year! The kids are doing well; settling in. They are still asking where we are moving to next and how long we are staying here so I guess we still have a ways to go to settle in completely. I cant believe they have completed three school terms already and we are on the downward slope to Christmas already, our second here! Still havent found a bestie; not even close. Ah well, maybe in our next town. I have some mates to chat to so that’s something to keep me sane I went up to Perth for a funeral a week or two back; the husband of a gorgeous girlfriend from our first posting had died in a vehicle accident. Their eldest and G Man were born weeks apart in the same hospital and their second son is a few months older than Master J. Give your loved ones an extra long hug tonight and make sure you say Love You before you say Goodbye each morning. So sad.

I posted this on my facebook page recently which seemed to hit a chord with a lot of readers:

“My darling husband,
I just wanted to tell you that I see you.
When your phone goes off on your bedside table at 1am, you go from being my snuggly bed companion to the Sergeant our public needs. Time and time again I see you reach for that same shirt you only took off a few hours ago and hurridly button it up, search for your belt in the darkness and pull on your boots. I hear the front door gently close so as not to wake me or the kids, even though you know I can hear you and will hear you again when you return.
I see you leave in the middle of the night to rescue someone; from a mangled car, from a violence filled home, from a complete stranger, from themselves….I love that you just go; no questions, to rescue people whom you have never met. You cast no judgement. You are their shining light in a sea of despair, their protection, their saviour. I imagine their relief when they hear your firm hand on their front door or see the blue lights coming over the horizon. I can see you through their eyes and you make me so proud.
I see you when you come home, many hours later, sometimes days, weary and torn. I know every fibre in your body aches for our bed but our boys want their Daddy and your mind is not ready for sleep after everything you have just seen. You see people at their worst every day; your everydays are other peoples nightmares. I see you come home and breathe our children in, and I see your grateful heart and shining eyes.
I see you. I see past your uniform. I can only imagine what you see every day. I am grateful to you that I dont have to imagine, that I can be ignorant. I am so grateful that you shield me from so much of what you see and know. Thank you for that; but please know that my shoulders are wide and I can be strong when you need me to be. I can share your sorrow and pain too; even if it is just to hold you and let you know that I see you.
You are so many things to so many people; a husband, son, father, brother, friend, rescuer, hero, saviour, rock, protector. I am your peace. I am your shelter. I am the calm harbour of your storm that you weather every day.
I see you. I love what I see. You can count on me.
Love, Me.
(I will still nag you to do the dishes though; you can count on that too ) “

*****************

At heart I am firstly a Mother, secondly a Police Wife,  and thirdly my own person (yes, in that order) and my emotions and actions stem from all those attributes.

Maybe this is a small hiatus. Maybe its more, but bear with me and I will still take you on our Police Family journey, however slowly.