Some of you might be wondering why have started this blog thing.  Some of you who know me, probably think I have enough going on, what with a couple of kids, husband, busy practice, incomplete BAS, cat with disheveled fur, etcetera.

Well, it’s because of The Menopause.

The Menopause started a few moons ago now, and as some of you well know (I’m looking at you, husband) it has made me the tiniest bit grumpy.  Not all the time, mind.  Just every day.  And night.  And some early afternoons.

Now I can predict what you are all about to say, “You can’t have The Menopause, you’re too young.”   And yes, I know my youthful complexion belies my years, but it is true.  I am newly barren, which means I can now say whatever I damn well like, and do whatever I damn well please.  Further, if you are about to tell me that I don’t technically have The Menopause, due to various silly little details, like actual diagnosis, you may potentially be correct, however those pesky specifics aren’t really of interest to me.  Mainly, because, I have The Menopause.  Which means I’m the boss.  (Plus, Peri-menopause just sounds a bit shit. I won’t have it.)

If you’ve been following along, you’ll know by now I do like a list, so, in the interests of community service, I have complied one, regarding The Menopause.  It will be of use to all you fecund little fertility goddesses, so you will know how to behave, when Aunty Flo no longer comes to visit.  It will also be a point of reference for all you men who are being paused, or will be paused, once the situation arises.  Forewarned is forearmed, and all that.

It is entitled “Things to do when you have The Menopause” and here it is:

• Have opinions on everything.  It is particularly good if they are unpopular opinions.  Blog about them.
• Wear the jeans you want, even if they are too tight, or have gone out of fashion (I’m looking at you CR Jeggings).
• Sing as loud as you like, even if the songs have rude words in them.  In fact, preferably.
• Buy neon pink Converse runners.  Wear them, even if your 6 year old is also wearing hers.
• Talk about taboo topics without getting embarrassed, again, loudly (and in public spaces).
• Forget many things, but especially inconvenient details (otherwise known as facts to the pedantic).
• Repeat your funny stories, even if your friend says “You’ve told me that one already”. Then repeat again.
• Go out to lunch and drink wine, often.  Ensure it is expensive wine.
• Play on the swings, and don’t get off when children want a turn.  They’ll get their chance.
• Break petty rules, especially if they are to do with parking, and particularly if you can get away with it.
• Be flabbergasted at the very age of health professionals.
• Use the word flabbergasted.  Also: cross, crook, tetchy and peeved.  They describe, umm, everyone else.

So there it is, breeders.  You’re welcome.

Cheers.

Fairly expensive wine.
(The others don’t have The Menopause yet)

Which one will you cross off your list today?

Is your health professional really young, like ‘The Bachelor‘, young?

A lady I much admire for her ability to tell it like it is, Mrs.Woog once wrote a post about her “diamond shoes being too tight”.  Oh how I laughed at the time.  So funny, Mrs.Woog, so funny.

Well, it pains me to tell you, that today, not only are my diamond shoes too tight, they seem to have given me a small blister.  In the following, I shall outline to you all of the things that have caused this calamity.

1. I was woken this morning* at 4.15am by a child who was wide awake, and would not go back to sleep.  No bribe, threat or IOS device would shut her the hell up calm her.
2. I made myself a delicious drinkable coffee from my Nespresso machine.  I spilled most of said coffee.
3. I then made myself some yummy eggs, free range, and given to me for free.  One was rotten.  Really rotten.  I was faced with a tri-lemma: eat rotten egg, have only one egg, make another egg.
4. I went to get dressed and found that my maid husband had ironed everything.  Except the top I wanted to wear.
5. It rained a little bit on my newly washed, new car (aka Miss Xtrailia 2013) on the way to school dump drop off.
6. I had a patient forget his last appointment, and he promised me a Lamborghini as recompense.  This is the Lamborghini I received.

This simply won’t do

All this, and it’s only midday.

So I shall leave off now, lest I tempt fate and create space for more evils to befall me.

As reward for the horrors I have survived this day, I will be eating the pictured cupcake, stolen acquired from The Son’s birthday cache. I’m wearing a white top (un-ironed).  What could possibly go wrong?

*4.15am is NOT morning.  It is dark.  This means it is night.  The end.

Do you too have a blister from your diamond shoes?  C’mon, share!

Sunday the 15th of September would be the 40th Birthday of my friend Ricki.

She died at the end of 2006 from breast cancer, which by then had ravaged her body.  She was an amazing chick, and she amazed me, right ’til the end.  She had a loving husband Greg, and two gorgeous, kids, who are still the strongest, coolest, most lovely children around.  The following is a little something I wrote, about a week after she died.

Painting by Ricki

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nature’s first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf’s a flower,

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief.

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

-Robert Frost

I first met Rick when she bounced into work looking for a job.  She was all froth and bubble, and filled a room completely.  I had my reservations, but our manager had the foresight to let her join the team, and so our learning began.  Over time, I found that Ricki was an artist, and lived that way, so rules were less important to her than connection, or passion.  Or beauty.  Or the search for truth.

Later, observing Rick and her sister Hayley working together to open a cafe, I saw another side to her: her organisation, her creativity and her ability to stay on purpose.  I also saw how that big hearted, big sister just gave and gave unconditionally.

Of course she was always giving.  Little gifts for me every Monday night when I’d visit her at her home, when she was too fragile to come into the office for her care; home cooked food, or a present for Liam.  And even more valuable, were the gifts she gave of herself, always in that courageous way she had, without fear or reservation.

In writing about death, Stephen King once said there’s a lot we aren’t told about death.  Of how it is secret, how difficult the letting go part is, because none of us would ever want to get close to another if we knew we’d feel like this, for even a second.  But I think Ricki would.  She’d risk it.  Because she was so brave.

Someone once said that “books read us”, that we see things not as they are, but as we are, and maybe it’s the same for people.  At least I hope so.   For if each of us has even a little of what we loved and admired about Ricki within us, then we are truly blessed.

Monday just gone, Greg said to me that “Rick always felt better when you’d been around”, and I felt honoured to think, that especially in those last few weeks, I have been able to help her a little, because I know I always felt better.  Like somehow just being in Rick’s glow made me a better person, or a least want to be better.  Somehow stronger, or closer to my truth.

This week her kids and I had a play in the house that is somehow still so full of Rick, (she still fills a room), and I had a fun time learning from those amazing two.  The Boy was the ever practical one, wanting to take down Ricki’s Christmas stocking because “She’s not going to be here for Christmas you know”, and The Girl shared with me how, if you go and put your whole face in Ricki’s clothes, you can still smell her.

And so it is for all of us.  We all carry things within us that remind us of Rick.  It might be a smell, or the taste of good chocolate, or a snippet of a song we know she loved, or the emotion from a great piece of art, or a big irreverent belly laugh, or just a bloody-minded stubborn desire to face challenges head on.

We carry these memories within us, because Rick was a chick who made markings on people’s souls.

So nothing gold can stay?  Maybe not physically, but with the brush strokes she left on our hearts, Ricki our artist, will always stay.  Golden.

Still miss ya Ricki.  Happy 40th.  

RIP.

Ah, AHEM, it’s my birthday this month too you know.  It came and went without even a purr this year.  That was noted, my lovely family, oh yes, it was noted.  I am not happy.  Not that this is news.  I am pretty much always at least marginally pissed off.  I don’t like, well, anything much really.

The four things I do like:

• Peeing right on the edge of the path, so when I dig it in, a bit of soil goes on to that path- it gives the Woman something to sweep up.
• Rubbing against the Woman’s legs when she is wearing black pants- the fluffy bits that stay on her leg are very pretty.  I try to make patterns.
• Scratching on the bedroom doors at night until I hear the Boy and the Girl stir a little- such a satisfying noise (Both the scratching and the waking.  Zing.)
• Staying awake most of the night and making things mysteriously fall from spots on high, then sleeping on the Man’s pillow most of the day.

That’s about it I think.

The Man and the Woman really don’t like me much, and that’s fine, I don’t like them either, but they are warm.  So I usually try to sleep on either one’s legs most nights.  I used to sleep on the Man’s chest, until he launched me right into the full-length mirror one night.  I got just one glimpse of my own startled eyes before I whacked into it.  So I’m more cautious these days.  More stealthy too.  It’s good for my instincts, because God knows I’m bloody hopeless at catching wildlife.  So far all I’ve managed are a few geckos and cockroaches.  I can take or leave the geckos, stupid clickity-slimy things they are, but the ‘roaches are bloody lovely.  All crunchy on the outside, with a gooey centre.  I can’t come at the wings though, so I leave them lying around for the Woman to clean up.  Reminds her of what a useful pet I am, in case she is getting ideas, if you get my meaning.

So, about the birthday celebration, or lack thereof.  I heard the Girl ask if she could get me something, and the Woman said no, I wouldn’t even know it was my birthday, I was “just” a cat.  The Girl secretly took me off into her room and gave me a tea-party anyway.  It was a bit shit really, no actual tea, or party, for that matter, but at least she didn’t dress me up in that ridiculous pink hat and make me sit in the doll’s pram. (I’m too big for that thing.)

I started my vengeance last night: knocked over an ornament and climbed back onto the bed every time the Man kicked me off. You should’ve seen me, I was relentless.

And this is just the beginning, dear friends, just the beginning….

Tonight: my bum and the kitchen bench have a meeting.

I’ll keep you updated.

You.Just.Wait.

Do you have an evil pet?

Dear Liam,

First of all, I want to wish you a wonderful birthday.  I hope you love your present, and even more, I hope you love the meaning behind it.  We wanted to get you a grown up present, because we can see how much you want to enter the adult world, and how gracefully you are starting to do so.  We think you are ready.

We have talked about how turning nine is a big year- it’s the start of you really becoming the adult you will one day be.  We have had glimpses of this over the years, and I imagine we will see even more in this year ahead.  We love that we get to watch you.

You came into this world in your own time, you were a surprise to me, and like all surprises, you have been so much more than I ever would have expected.  I remember saying to the Obstetrician at my six week check up that I really liked you.  And as the words were out of my mouth I realised that I was surprised by that, and they were true.  I knew I would love you, but I wasn’t prepared for just how much I would like you.

And of course, what’s not to like?  You are clever and funny and quirky and serious and strong.  You have a great sense of justice and you know just how you like things.  I admire how well you know yourself.  Most of all though, you have a good heart, and that my gorgeous boy, is what will carry you through the days, to become all that you can be.

Thanks for taking my heart, softening it, and placing it on the outside, where everyone can see it.  You have been the making of me.

I love ya mate.

Love, Mum

Happy 9th Liam

This kid.

He turns nine this week.  The age when you really start to figure out the difference between yourself and the outside.  Straddling the worlds: the adult realm, with all it’s practicalities and demands, and the dreamy internal world of the child, of imagination and possibilities.

He has a quicksilver brain, this kid.  Sharp as a tack, and one step ahead of most of us.  Always figuring, sorting and seeing things from a different angle.  I can’t wait to see the things he will think, the ideas he will create.  His life stretches before him with so much potential, so many choices, so much yet to do.

He shares his birthday with another great man.  A man who has built a life around acts of service.  A man who is highly respected in his field and in his life, not only through the work of his clever hands and clever mind, but for the way he gives his full heart into everything he does.  He cares about the true core of people.  You know this by the way he looks into your eyes as you tell your stories.  He connects.

But now some of the connections in his brain have gone awry, and it takes longer for him to share his thoughts with you.  It’s not as easy for his dextrous hands to perform tasks that used to be so simple.

So just as my boy has his path stretching out in front of him, with so many forks, and so many possibilities, this soft spoken man has had some of his paths cordoned off.  New roads will be more difficult to travel, the well-worn ones will be safer and surer.

Until, well, who knows?  Medical advancements, new technologies?

But until then, his potential is restricted.

You are well loved, both of my birthday twins.  And you have both loved well.

Happy Birthday to all the Virgos.