My dad, who is 90 years old, raised the subject of his funeral yesterday. I suppose at 90 it shouldn't come as a shock to me that he had been thinking about it, but it was apropos of nothing at all, he just brought it up, while we were having our daily game of cribbage after I had brought him his evening meal.
Being a priest, he is not at all afraid of death, so discussing the concept was not difficult for him so as a result I had to work hard to keep my tears at bay at the thought of him not being in my life any more. I am having trouble typing this through the tears now.
Anyway he said he hadn't left any instructions for his funeral. I protested immediately saying I had a copy at home and he had given a copy to my brother and sister as well. 'Oh goodness', he said, 'that was from 25 years ago, everything has changed since then!'.
So we talked about it for a while - he loved my mother's requiem funeral mass, so we know the basics. I suggested that he should just write down what he specifically wanted and more importantly what he didn't want to have at his funeral, who should deliver the eulogy (definitely not me, cryer at funerals that I am) and so on. No Bishops to participate, apparently.
But I find myself feeling incredibly sad. I will miss my dad so much when he is gone. We have become so close since losing my mother nearly three years ago. He lives down the road from me now, is still quite independent, but I see him most days, talk to him every day other than when he is visiting my sister and brother and we have some very deep and meaningful talks about life, the universe, politics and everything going on in the world, as well as everything going on inside. We always make each other laugh- sometimes I wonder what the neighbours must think when they see a red Mazda pull up, followed moments later by howls of laughter coming from inside the house. This usually means he is thrashing me at cards.
And he listens to me. And he appreciates every little and not so little thing I do for him. Sadly as a wife and mother I don't get that at home. In fact some days, like today, I feel lonely and invisible in my own home.
I know I will miss his presence in my life more than I realise now and I am so lucky to have had my dad with me now for almost 51 years So many people don't have the privilege of a wonderful father and one that has lived as long as mine.
So my life will be empty without him in it. And I find myself having to mentally prepare for that day. But you can never truly prepare for the death of a loved one, can you?
Monday, January 21, 2013
Sunday, November 25, 2012
So this happened to me today
This morning, I got up nice and early to do some fulfilling chores - you know, unstuck the dishwasher, two loads of washing, feed the animals etc, took Harry to school, dropped off the dry cleaning and I was at the gym by 8.30, knowing I would be done by 9.30 and be able to get some 'work' done. In a desperate attempt to lose the remaining two kilos of the three I added to my frame in a recent trip to France I have been exercising a lot, have not had an alcoholic drink for more than a week and before that only on weekends, and have reduced food intake. It shits me that it only takes three weeks to put on three kilos but at this rate will take 6 months to take off. Once I lose those two kilos, I still have to lose the two I wanted to lose BEFORE we went to France.
My gym gear is a little bit tighter than usual, as is to be expected. So after the gym (thighs burning, heart racing, face red) I popped into the local jewellery store to look at some lapis lazuli to enquire about them making a bracelet to replace the one I lost recently. I hadn't been into the store for some time. As I walked in, the proprietor, with whom I am on first name terms, greeted me warmly and said, in a very loud voice ' I can see you're back from your trip to France' while patting her stomach.
FML
My gym gear is a little bit tighter than usual, as is to be expected. So after the gym (thighs burning, heart racing, face red) I popped into the local jewellery store to look at some lapis lazuli to enquire about them making a bracelet to replace the one I lost recently. I hadn't been into the store for some time. As I walked in, the proprietor, with whom I am on first name terms, greeted me warmly and said, in a very loud voice ' I can see you're back from your trip to France' while patting her stomach.
FML
Monday, November 12, 2012
Gratitude
There has been a great deal of research into the positive effects of gratitude - not just for those who practice it and express it, but for those on the receiving end of a simple 'thank you'. I always make sure I say thank you, whether at home or at work.
Motherhood has been described from time to time as a thankless task, and this weekend just gone, I had one of 'those moments', (actually it wasn't a moment; it lasted almost 48 hours) when I was so overwhelmed by the lack of consideration, respect and just downright lack of acknowledgement, let alone gratitude, from my husband and children, that I fell into a very bad place, depressed, angry and resentful.
That changed a bit today - not because of anything my husband or children did; I don't expect that to change in an instant. No, my Dear Old Dad, 90, who lives nearby and whom I have been cooking and providing other support since my mum died over two years ago, wrote me a short, but heartfelt letter, expressing his love and gratitude for 'all you have done for me over the last two and a half years'. He says thank you to me every day - he clearly felt the need to write it down today and it meant so much to me today of all days. He was unaware of what I had been feeling at home.
Of course, it made me cry, but happy and grateful tears rather than the useless tears of rage and resentment that have been falling for the last 2 days.
Say thank you to someone in your life. It will make a huge difference to them.
Motherhood has been described from time to time as a thankless task, and this weekend just gone, I had one of 'those moments', (actually it wasn't a moment; it lasted almost 48 hours) when I was so overwhelmed by the lack of consideration, respect and just downright lack of acknowledgement, let alone gratitude, from my husband and children, that I fell into a very bad place, depressed, angry and resentful.
That changed a bit today - not because of anything my husband or children did; I don't expect that to change in an instant. No, my Dear Old Dad, 90, who lives nearby and whom I have been cooking and providing other support since my mum died over two years ago, wrote me a short, but heartfelt letter, expressing his love and gratitude for 'all you have done for me over the last two and a half years'. He says thank you to me every day - he clearly felt the need to write it down today and it meant so much to me today of all days. He was unaware of what I had been feeling at home.
Of course, it made me cry, but happy and grateful tears rather than the useless tears of rage and resentment that have been falling for the last 2 days.
Say thank you to someone in your life. It will make a huge difference to them.
Monday, October 29, 2012
We all need to be proud to call ourselves feminists
There has been so much written on the subject of sexism, misogyny and feminism of late. Three cheers to Tracey Spicer for her excellent piece on The Hoopla recently.
It concerns me however that in a lot of the comments, tweets and discussions, a number of women start their comment with 'I'm not a feminist, but' or 'I'm not am avid feminist, but' while agreeing with the writer or commentator about the deplorable state of affairs for women.
I became a feminist at the age of eight, when I was expelled from Brownies for refusing to earn my badges for sewing, craft, and various other 'feminine' pursuits. Actually it was probably writing 'Brown Owl is a bum' in chalk on the footpath after getting into trouble for that attitude that got me expelled but I took a stand. You see the Brownie hut was next door to the Scout Hut and they got to build fires and canoes. I didn't understand why I couldn't do that. I can still build the BEST fire but don't ask me to sew on a button.
From a young age I was aware of discrimination - at high school being made to do Mothercare lessons (FFS) which again I eventually refused to do. I went to university and studied law. In one of my first lectures the make lecturer told us how much a degree would be worth over the course of our careers, but added it wasn't as important for the female students because we could always just marry a lawyer. My complaint to the Dean went nowhere.
The thing is this - no woman should be embarrassed about being a feminist, or worry about being labelled a feminist. Being a feminist is terrific, and is not am exclusive club.
EVERY woman who believes that equal work deserves equal pay is a feminist.
EVERY woman who believes workplaces should not be places of fear just because of your gender is a feminist.
EVERY woman who believes promotion should be on merit and nothing else is a feminist.
EVERY woman who believes that girls in Afghanistan and Pakistan deserve the right to go to school is a feminist.
EVERY woman who believes that women have the right to choose whether or not to have a baby is a feminist
EVERY woman who believes no one should suffer through a violent relationship out of fear and want to help that woman is a feminist.
You don't need to be feisty about it, grow armpit hair, hold placards or write articles. You can call it as you see it without the need to apologise for your views. You can do it quietly or loudly. You just need to do it.
You don't need to be an ALP supporter to applaud the Prime Minister for her recent speech. It's a speech I have made (not in those exact words of course) and wanted to make many times.
There are lots of disagreements amongst feminists about what it takes to be one and they are always interesting discussions. These are my simple rules. I think we're all feminists and I'm proud to be one.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
It concerns me however that in a lot of the comments, tweets and discussions, a number of women start their comment with 'I'm not a feminist, but' or 'I'm not am avid feminist, but' while agreeing with the writer or commentator about the deplorable state of affairs for women.
I became a feminist at the age of eight, when I was expelled from Brownies for refusing to earn my badges for sewing, craft, and various other 'feminine' pursuits. Actually it was probably writing 'Brown Owl is a bum' in chalk on the footpath after getting into trouble for that attitude that got me expelled but I took a stand. You see the Brownie hut was next door to the Scout Hut and they got to build fires and canoes. I didn't understand why I couldn't do that. I can still build the BEST fire but don't ask me to sew on a button.
From a young age I was aware of discrimination - at high school being made to do Mothercare lessons (FFS) which again I eventually refused to do. I went to university and studied law. In one of my first lectures the make lecturer told us how much a degree would be worth over the course of our careers, but added it wasn't as important for the female students because we could always just marry a lawyer. My complaint to the Dean went nowhere.
The thing is this - no woman should be embarrassed about being a feminist, or worry about being labelled a feminist. Being a feminist is terrific, and is not am exclusive club.
EVERY woman who believes that equal work deserves equal pay is a feminist.
EVERY woman who believes workplaces should not be places of fear just because of your gender is a feminist.
EVERY woman who believes promotion should be on merit and nothing else is a feminist.
EVERY woman who believes that girls in Afghanistan and Pakistan deserve the right to go to school is a feminist.
EVERY woman who believes that women have the right to choose whether or not to have a baby is a feminist
EVERY woman who believes no one should suffer through a violent relationship out of fear and want to help that woman is a feminist.
You don't need to be feisty about it, grow armpit hair, hold placards or write articles. You can call it as you see it without the need to apologise for your views. You can do it quietly or loudly. You just need to do it.
You don't need to be an ALP supporter to applaud the Prime Minister for her recent speech. It's a speech I have made (not in those exact words of course) and wanted to make many times.
There are lots of disagreements amongst feminists about what it takes to be one and they are always interesting discussions. These are my simple rules. I think we're all feminists and I'm proud to be one.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Back to reality with a thud
So after a fabulous holiday spent in France with friends, I came back to earth (home) with a great big fucking thud.
* got on the scales and discovered an additional 3 kilos
* chained myself to the laundry for about three days
* call to RACQ to replace battery on third car teenaged daughter drives which had died some five days before
* Call to computer repair man to collect home PC which had shat itself a week before and refused to even turn on
* a mountain of mail to open sort file and pay
* start organising for 12 year old's school trip to Canberra
* mum my credit has expired on my phone
* mum my credit has expired on my go card
* mum how do you do x, y z etc
* mum where's my a, b, c etc
* mum can you help me do my assignment that was due 2 weeks ago etc
I realised one day when I was up to my elbows in Mr Muscle cleaning the oven, that only a week before I had been sitting down to a fabulous long lunch with about a vat of French wine about to be consumed
Sigh...
AMFYOYO
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
* got on the scales and discovered an additional 3 kilos
* chained myself to the laundry for about three days
* call to RACQ to replace battery on third car teenaged daughter drives which had died some five days before
* Call to computer repair man to collect home PC which had shat itself a week before and refused to even turn on
* a mountain of mail to open sort file and pay
* start organising for 12 year old's school trip to Canberra
* mum my credit has expired on my phone
* mum my credit has expired on my go card
* mum how do you do x, y z etc
* mum where's my a, b, c etc
* mum can you help me do my assignment that was due 2 weeks ago etc
I realised one day when I was up to my elbows in Mr Muscle cleaning the oven, that only a week before I had been sitting down to a fabulous long lunch with about a vat of French wine about to be consumed
Sigh...
AMFYOYO
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Saturday, October 6, 2012
How to celebrate 50 years of living
I love parties. I love organising parties for other people. But in the case of my own 50th, I didn't want to organise a party for myself. I spoke to a friend, also turning 50, and she felt the same.
I have long been a Francophile- I mentioned that I wanted nothing more than to celebrate my 50th in France. Count me in, she said.
So after many months of searching I found this:
It is called Chateau de Siorac and you can see the whole delightful chateau at www.chateaudesiorac.com. It is close to Perigueux, the capital of the Dodogne area of France, famous for its river, castles, and more importantly, food. It is the truffle and foie gras capital of the world. And you can buy real champagne off the shelf at the supermarket!! For a song.
The chateau is owned by a couple who had been living (and working too hard) in NYC. They are not American and I'm not sure why that's important but it is. They bought and renovated the chateau, originally built in the 16th century, and live in a cottage on the grounds, giving up their very impressive careers for a life in the French countryside. I can see the attraction. It is beautiful and has been faithfully restored and has an interesting history. It has 6 bedrooms and bathrooms, a baronial dining room, several living areas and HUGE kitchen, also with room to seat 12. And it has not one but two towers. Believe it or not, leaving aside the airfares to get there, it was cheaper than two weeks at Noosa.
So The Lawyer and I had two heavenly weeks there- the first week with four other couples, and the second with my siblings, their spouses and some mutual friends.
We saw lots of ancient towns, bridges, rivers and castles.
And we did a lot of this:
Of course in order to leave, i had to prepare a four page spreadsheet of what was happening with the children, cook meals for them and Dear Old Dad, but it was worth it. We laughed. Oh how we laughed every single day. We ate beautiful food, drank beautiful wines, saw beautiful sights and carried on like silly persons.
It was the best birthday ever
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
I have long been a Francophile- I mentioned that I wanted nothing more than to celebrate my 50th in France. Count me in, she said.
So after many months of searching I found this:
It is called Chateau de Siorac and you can see the whole delightful chateau at www.chateaudesiorac.com. It is close to Perigueux, the capital of the Dodogne area of France, famous for its river, castles, and more importantly, food. It is the truffle and foie gras capital of the world. And you can buy real champagne off the shelf at the supermarket!! For a song.
The chateau is owned by a couple who had been living (and working too hard) in NYC. They are not American and I'm not sure why that's important but it is. They bought and renovated the chateau, originally built in the 16th century, and live in a cottage on the grounds, giving up their very impressive careers for a life in the French countryside. I can see the attraction. It is beautiful and has been faithfully restored and has an interesting history. It has 6 bedrooms and bathrooms, a baronial dining room, several living areas and HUGE kitchen, also with room to seat 12. And it has not one but two towers. Believe it or not, leaving aside the airfares to get there, it was cheaper than two weeks at Noosa.
So The Lawyer and I had two heavenly weeks there- the first week with four other couples, and the second with my siblings, their spouses and some mutual friends.
We saw lots of ancient towns, bridges, rivers and castles.
And we did a lot of this:
Of course in order to leave, i had to prepare a four page spreadsheet of what was happening with the children, cook meals for them and Dear Old Dad, but it was worth it. We laughed. Oh how we laughed every single day. We ate beautiful food, drank beautiful wines, saw beautiful sights and carried on like silly persons.
It was the best birthday ever
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Thursday, September 6, 2012
My 'baby'
I am sitting in hospital this morning with my 'baby' who is having some minor oral surgery today. He is having some teeth removed mainly because i am a dentaphobe and want him to be fast asleep while any hideous dental procedure is done. But it is a horrible feeling watching one of your children go under.
My 'baby' is almost thirteen. He will turn 13 just before my eldest turns 20 so I will have four months of having three teenagers in the house. *shudders. Apparently mothers who continue to refer to their youngest child as their 'baby' may do so until they are middle aged. I hope so!
I never really intended having a third child. The Lawyer always wanted a third but I am one of those people who hated being pregnant, as nice as the end result is. I suffered terribly with migraine headaches and heartburn during my pregnancies. And having had post natal depression after my second (anally retentive control freak having two babies is a recipe for disaster) I didn't want to go through that ever again. So all in all I was not keen.
But after some pressure from the person who doesn't have to gestate a baby, get heartburn, migraine headaches, heat rash, breast feed, give up his career etc etc etc, I gave him ONE shot at it. ONE. I went off the pill for one month only. Both previous children were obtained from small doses of ovulation inducing drugs so I was fairly confident that it wouldn't happen.
When, about 4 weeks later I started salivating excessively ( some pregnancy symptoms are weird and this was the giveaway for me before anything else) I went and got the home pregnancy test knowing and dreading what it would say.
And you know what? When that little line came up telling me I was pregnant, all of that fear, uncertainty and dread disappeared. I was so inexplicably excited. I was having another baby! We had friends who were horrified that we would go back but there you have it. We were having a third child.
Even though I had given away every item of baby paraphernalia, and clothing and had to start again, here I was at almost 40 about to have a baby. Turns out, it was the easiest of pregnancies. I had a 4 and 6 year old who were at the stage of dressing themselves, cleaning their own teeth, using their opposable thumbs effectively, and it was a busy time. So busy I didn't really have time to think about being pregnant and HAVING ANOTHER BABY.
He was to be born on 4 January 2000 by c-section. Remember the Y2K drama? All I was worried about was not having an anesthetist with drugs available because all of everything was going to shut down at midnight before the new year. Turns out I wasted a perfectly good worry, as did everyone.
I had 18 people for lunch Christmas day that year. 10 days before my new baby was to be born. As you do.
On boxing day it hit me. I was having another baby. My others were about to turn 5 and 7. What the hell was i doing? Did I have everything I needed? I couldn't remember how to change a nappy. I remembered the thermo nuclear explosion in the nipples in the first few weeks of breast feeding and went cold. How was I going to get my others to school and pre school with a new baby? What if he or she was awake all night? What if the other children hated the new baby?.
On the way to hospital I started shaking and crying. I don't know why. Once at hospital and prepped, The obstetrician was worried that I was worried about his skill (hey, narcissists, everything is not about you!). I couldn't explain it. The Lawyer was forlorn not understanding and I just couldn't explain it.
Next thing I remember I had a beautiful baby boy in my arms. I have no memory of the epidural the surgery or any conversation during the surgery. I don't understand that either. Fear and anxiety made me almost unconscious it seems.
And all of a sudden nothing else mattered. Other than the fact that I had very fat babies and he had incredibly skinny legs which I noticed for some reason. He was the easiest of babies. Slept through the night at 12 weeks (although his big sister did so at 6 weeks, which really set up high expectations). Fitted in to whatever was happening. His brother and sister adored him. Could watch him while i did other things - hell my daughter even was able to bottle feed him. And she could read to him. We moved house when he was 4 weeks old. As you do. I supervised building a new house which we moved into when he was 11 months old. As you do. And I went back to work when he was 8 months old- And all the while he smiled and laughed and kept everyone entertained. And I did not once get that feeling of being low let alone depressed.
As he got older difficulties I wasn't expecting arose- sometimes it was like two generations in the one house and there was a constant refrain 'hurry up Harry', 'keep up Harry' from his siblings. He has of late been the constant butt of teasing from his older siblings but I just keep telling him he will soon be taller than both of them and they'll be scared of him and that it will make him very tough and resilient.
I adore all of my children. They are all different and all have fine qualities and are growing up to be good people. Although being tidy is not a skill any of them have. Of all my children my 'baby' is the one, for some reason, who is most sensitive to my moods. He can tell if I am sad, worried or anxious. He asks if i need help with anything. On my first mothers day after my mother died his card wishing me a happy mothers day referred to my mum being with us in spirit. I hadn't said anything to anyone about my feelings about that mothers day. He thanked his teacher for coming on school camp, acknowledging that she had two children of her own that she had to leave behind to come to camp with them. His grade 4 teacher wrote on his report card that 'he has a kind heart, and is always first to offer help to those students who need it'. He volunteered to buddy up for a whole year with a severely autistic boy in the class and just shrugged off teasing from the other kids for being his friend. He told me everyone deserves to have at least one friend. He was the only one to invite that boy to a birthday party that year. And he gave me a new, if limited, understanding of how hard it must be for parents of children anywhere on the autism spectrum.
So he is turning 13 in the New Year and I am very glad I gave The Lawyer that one shot at the third child. He completed our little family and makes my heart swell.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
My 'baby' is almost thirteen. He will turn 13 just before my eldest turns 20 so I will have four months of having three teenagers in the house. *shudders. Apparently mothers who continue to refer to their youngest child as their 'baby' may do so until they are middle aged. I hope so!
I never really intended having a third child. The Lawyer always wanted a third but I am one of those people who hated being pregnant, as nice as the end result is. I suffered terribly with migraine headaches and heartburn during my pregnancies. And having had post natal depression after my second (anally retentive control freak having two babies is a recipe for disaster) I didn't want to go through that ever again. So all in all I was not keen.
But after some pressure from the person who doesn't have to gestate a baby, get heartburn, migraine headaches, heat rash, breast feed, give up his career etc etc etc, I gave him ONE shot at it. ONE. I went off the pill for one month only. Both previous children were obtained from small doses of ovulation inducing drugs so I was fairly confident that it wouldn't happen.
When, about 4 weeks later I started salivating excessively ( some pregnancy symptoms are weird and this was the giveaway for me before anything else) I went and got the home pregnancy test knowing and dreading what it would say.
And you know what? When that little line came up telling me I was pregnant, all of that fear, uncertainty and dread disappeared. I was so inexplicably excited. I was having another baby! We had friends who were horrified that we would go back but there you have it. We were having a third child.
Even though I had given away every item of baby paraphernalia, and clothing and had to start again, here I was at almost 40 about to have a baby. Turns out, it was the easiest of pregnancies. I had a 4 and 6 year old who were at the stage of dressing themselves, cleaning their own teeth, using their opposable thumbs effectively, and it was a busy time. So busy I didn't really have time to think about being pregnant and HAVING ANOTHER BABY.
He was to be born on 4 January 2000 by c-section. Remember the Y2K drama? All I was worried about was not having an anesthetist with drugs available because all of everything was going to shut down at midnight before the new year. Turns out I wasted a perfectly good worry, as did everyone.
I had 18 people for lunch Christmas day that year. 10 days before my new baby was to be born. As you do.
On boxing day it hit me. I was having another baby. My others were about to turn 5 and 7. What the hell was i doing? Did I have everything I needed? I couldn't remember how to change a nappy. I remembered the thermo nuclear explosion in the nipples in the first few weeks of breast feeding and went cold. How was I going to get my others to school and pre school with a new baby? What if he or she was awake all night? What if the other children hated the new baby?.
On the way to hospital I started shaking and crying. I don't know why. Once at hospital and prepped, The obstetrician was worried that I was worried about his skill (hey, narcissists, everything is not about you!). I couldn't explain it. The Lawyer was forlorn not understanding and I just couldn't explain it.
Next thing I remember I had a beautiful baby boy in my arms. I have no memory of the epidural the surgery or any conversation during the surgery. I don't understand that either. Fear and anxiety made me almost unconscious it seems.
And all of a sudden nothing else mattered. Other than the fact that I had very fat babies and he had incredibly skinny legs which I noticed for some reason. He was the easiest of babies. Slept through the night at 12 weeks (although his big sister did so at 6 weeks, which really set up high expectations). Fitted in to whatever was happening. His brother and sister adored him. Could watch him while i did other things - hell my daughter even was able to bottle feed him. And she could read to him. We moved house when he was 4 weeks old. As you do. I supervised building a new house which we moved into when he was 11 months old. As you do. And I went back to work when he was 8 months old- And all the while he smiled and laughed and kept everyone entertained. And I did not once get that feeling of being low let alone depressed.
As he got older difficulties I wasn't expecting arose- sometimes it was like two generations in the one house and there was a constant refrain 'hurry up Harry', 'keep up Harry' from his siblings. He has of late been the constant butt of teasing from his older siblings but I just keep telling him he will soon be taller than both of them and they'll be scared of him and that it will make him very tough and resilient.
I adore all of my children. They are all different and all have fine qualities and are growing up to be good people. Although being tidy is not a skill any of them have. Of all my children my 'baby' is the one, for some reason, who is most sensitive to my moods. He can tell if I am sad, worried or anxious. He asks if i need help with anything. On my first mothers day after my mother died his card wishing me a happy mothers day referred to my mum being with us in spirit. I hadn't said anything to anyone about my feelings about that mothers day. He thanked his teacher for coming on school camp, acknowledging that she had two children of her own that she had to leave behind to come to camp with them. His grade 4 teacher wrote on his report card that 'he has a kind heart, and is always first to offer help to those students who need it'. He volunteered to buddy up for a whole year with a severely autistic boy in the class and just shrugged off teasing from the other kids for being his friend. He told me everyone deserves to have at least one friend. He was the only one to invite that boy to a birthday party that year. And he gave me a new, if limited, understanding of how hard it must be for parents of children anywhere on the autism spectrum.
So he is turning 13 in the New Year and I am very glad I gave The Lawyer that one shot at the third child. He completed our little family and makes my heart swell.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
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