The Reality of Parenting

I recently went on a holiday, a five day holiday, without my kids, without my big kid – aka my husband – and without any concern for anything other than myself and enjoying time with my girlfriends. Five days where I didn’t have to think about shitty nappies, who hit who, what to cook for dinner or more so what not to cook for dinner, which shirt I should wear, hey one that doesn’t have dirty handprints on it or mashed up banana glued to it is good enough, who has soccer practise, tennis, basketball, football, work or a project due. I didn’t have to think about washing, hanging, ironing and putting away for 7 people. I didn’t have to vacuum and mop only to have it look like it needed a vacuum and mop moments later. I didn’t have to hear that dreaded question every stay-at-home mum hates … “What’s for dinner?” Or the even more painful “I’m bored.”

It was a holiday that I desperately needed as I face challenges with my teenager as he turns into an arsehole …. ahem sorry of course I really meant to say, as he turns into a real life teenager (or pre-man or better yet a pre-man-pre-man). Challenges that include dealing with a 17 year old girl who is in year 12 and will only settle for A grades – yes it’s admirable but it is also a highly stressful aspiration. Challenges with that prementioned 14 year old boy and his preteen 11 year old brother who looks up to him and his behaviours. Attention for the wild and crazy and all consuming world of a 5 year old and the tantrums and tribulations of a non-speaking 2 year old. Yes the fact he isn’t talking worries me and I’m getting help… Oh hey let’s not forget also the 39 year old male who needs my love and affection too. Sometimes he needs it more than the others all put together. So with testosterone overload a girls getaway was totally called for!

My holiday consisted of all the things a womans holiday should. There was plenty of shopping, walking, eating, wining (as in actually drinking wine not listening to my children whine), seeing talented people in talented shows, watching a live football game – yes I’m interested in football … C’mon there are hot men running around in teeny tight shorts – need I justify this anymore?! And of course the best ingredient of our holiday was the laughter. Real side splitting, chest hurting, stomach-muscle-cramping type of laughing. It was the best medicine for my overwhelmed heart and mind.

On our last day I knew it was all coming to an end. We wandered around for over 2 hours trying to find a place worthy to have our last supper at. We knew it had to be awesome so we could fill up with a happy ending to an awesome holiday and where we finally settled was well worth the calories burnt and the blisters earnt. We spent the evening eating Italian, being served by an Italian stallion and we drank plenty of Italian fluids – white wine, red wine and champagne. We laughed and laughed and laughed. We laughed until we were crying. Until we were unable to even speak. Until we thought everything was really funny and risked being kicked out of a Melbourne restaurant for well laughing too much!

The next morning we came home and my children welcomed me with open arms. Ok *inserting brutal honesty here* my 14 year old grunted at me – there was no open arms but I did get hugs and kisses from everyone else followed by “what did you buy us?”. My husband puffed out his chest when he saw me because he had ‘done it’ – ‘it’ being my role for a whole five days but not with all five kids I need to point that out coz it really isn’t the same BUT I am so thankful he stepped up to be a single Daddy for me so I could go away! Then the morning after my arrival home he left for his working week away and of course my real reality hit. In fact truth be told that reality up and kicked me in the gut, then it quickly filled my head with all the stuff that it had been missing and I cried, a lot. Not because I didn’t want to be there with my family but because what I do day in and day out is hard – don’t judge me! And so the day after the day before the onslaught began – packing for the 14 year olds camp, football games that coincided with a 2 year olds sleep, two big projects due, birthday parties to attend, presents to buy, appointments to get to, school runs, sports practice, lunches, early mornings, fussy eater dinners and oh did I mention washing. Fucking washing – take me to live at a nudist colony please!

Reality bites

When you go on holidays there really should be a law to say you must slowly reintroduce yourself into the ‘normal’ world in which you live. Kind of like weaning. Weaning yourself into your regular old self, with regular old chores and a billion regular things to remember. And while I may sound completely ungrateful for my life I’m not. My children make me and they break me. They teach me patience and how to not completely lose my shit. My role as a stay-at-home mum is completely frustrating, rarely rewarding and certainly never with commendations. But I have an amazing family who I can only hope and pray will grow into happy adults. That my children will know that I loved them and tried my best every day, that I never gave up and I may have struggled but that was only coz I wanted better for them. I hope they will understand and accept my imperfections and my desperate need to escape them for a five day holiday. I hope they know that my ‘reward’ is their future happiness. Their contentment in life will bring me the greatest reward of all.

My vision, a hundred years from now (ok maybe just half of that), has my husband and I sitting on our rocking chairs on our front porch reminiscing and laughing at all the times we nearly killed our offspring – it’s ok I am exaggerating, laugh with me. We will wrinkle up our noses that are already well and truly wrinkled and observe how funny it is to see our little darlings with little darlings of their own #karma.

I can only hope my children will be a better parent and a better person than me. It’s called evolution right? If so, then I know all the sacrifices, all the giving, all the tears and trying will be worth it. Parenting is a tough gig. I don’t know any gig that is harder and it really hits home when they become teens because you know adulthood is only just around the corner and all you have taught them or haven’t taught them is about to show up, for real. So fingers crossed I’ve done ok.

Reality struggle

So here’s my mission for you Superwomen…. Find a parent, whether you know them or not, someone who is doing it tough or appears to be struggling right now. The one who smiles and says she’s ok, the one looks overwhelmed, the one whose toddler is screaming on the floor in the supermarket while the mother is copping judgemental stares from fellow shoppers, she has bags under her eyes and the weight of the world on her shoulders. Your mission is to go up to her and tell her she is doing an awesome job. A lady once said that very thing to me as I dealt with a tired, unruly 18 month old who did not want to sit in the trolley, who had snot from left nostril to chin and a blood curdling scream to welcome the Vampires. Those kind words from a stranger gave me the strength, that day, to pull back my shoulders, to keep calm and to not feel like a complete failure. It’s really important to spread the parental pats on the back, to share the enormous weight a parent carries and to let them know they are a great parent and that it’ll all be ok.

You are doing ok xx

One love

DRK xxx

 

Rewriting Your Story

I’ve been talking to a “professional” lately and in the two hours I have spent with her (yes just two hours) I have connected more dots in my lifes’ story and crazy life cycles than I have ever connected before and now things are actually making sense. My vision is clear and now that I have the ability to step outside and look in from a very different viewpoint I can accept things for what they truly are. This different viewpoint changes “my story” completely. Things that I thought mattered, things that I thought defined me are well … different, they still matter somewhat, they have still shaped me but the depth in which they is no longer plausible.

Granted parts of my past have been less than ideal, yours may have too, and it’s true a lot of that shittiness was because of the choices I made as an immature child. An immature child craving attention. But I’ve realised there were a few traumatic things that were not entirely my choice. Those situations were not a choice made by a mature woman but of a 14 year old child. Never-the-less I have repented for 20+ years. I have spent this massive portion of my life feeling guilty, bad, not good enough and ashamed of myself. Embarrassed and unable to move forward in my life out of fear for the repercussions of my past. Fearing that my choices would come back to haunt me in my future. I now know that I have hindered my future by living in the shadow of my past. My fears have stopped me from truly being in the present – often or ever! My fears have also lead me to be in situations and with people who reflect these negative feelings about myself.

These people talk over me, interrupt me and are hardly ever really there with me. It’s like I’m not even talking sometimes. Sometimes it seems as if they are sitting in an empty room and not in a chair right beside me. They have their own opinions and mine, if different, are shut down time and time again, completely invalid and unimportant. They can give advice but can’t take it and I continually have to pat their ego. But I’m done stroking it.


Today I felt different. Today I had a voice. I had broad and strong shoulders, my head was held high and I nodded to the world that yes indeed I was ready to move forward with my life. I am ready to surround myself in real joy and faith. Faith in myself. Faith in my actual creative talents. I’m ready to support my personal desires for the future and more importantly actually be in the present moments which ultimately leads to my inner happiness and calm. Yay! Calm sounds awesome!! I am not afraid to release my “real self” for the world to see. I’m not afraid of what they may think of me. I am a good person. I know that now.


I am not who I was when I was 14 (15, 16,  and so on and so forth). I am not that young girl out there making mistakes, hurting those around her, in particular her parents, the people who brought her into this world. I am not the terrible sister of a dying boy. I am not an ugly freckled face girl who had a crush on someone who thought they were better than her. I am not the single mother of three divorcee, the failure, the family embarrassment. I am not the friend who will continually try hard for your friendship/love/attention. I am walking away with my head held high, almost guilt free, leaving the past in the past.


I have spent years/decades, suffering for my “sins” but before my life is over, before my opportunity passes I am sticking my middle finger up (as I may often do in times like these) and I am saying: “Fuck you fear, regrets and guilt”, “YOU are all holding me back and I choose to move forward like a true champion. One motherfucking step at a time!” I choose to keep these wheels rolling and to keep moving forward. To keep my smile glistening while my head is held high. I choose to heal, forgive and do better.

We all get that choice.

Every day is a new beginning. Tell those “passengers” in your brain to politely shut the fuck up. You don’t need them to bring you down telling you how useless/unloved/terrible/fat/ugly you are. Who are they and what right do they have to define you? You have a choice to quieten them. Not by talking over them or by enrolling in an argument with them, not even by performing a magic vanishing trick on them. You need to begin the quietening simply by ignoring them. By making a conscious choice to keep moving forward regardless of how much they heckle you. The more steps you take, the more positive moves you make the closer you will get to a smooth and quiet ride. And don’t we all deserve that?

One love

DRK xxx

Weeding my way to true happiness…

Life has been kind to me. I’ve been blessed with two wonderful parents who are respectful of one another and still in love to this day. They raised me in a loving home with grounded morals and life values. I have three older brothers who protected me, let me hang out with them and their mates and who inspire me, each in different ways. I have awesome friends, many new and endearing ones and special longtime, lifetime ones too. I live in a beautiful house, I always have enough food on the table and I can run, walk, carry my children and breathe fresh air into my healthy lungs everyday.

I am lucky.

Some times in my 30 plus years though I’ve felt ripped off. Not good enough. Felt that life had been unfair to me. I have had some days, some weeks even where I’ve only seen the glass as half empty. I’ve felt sorry for myself coz I wasn’t richer, skinnier, faster, smarter, prettier. I had friends who were toxic and draining on my emotions. I drank too much, smoked too much, ate too much. I saw my parenting as a failure and I was always too ready to give up.

Over time I have invested in myself. Books, courses, physical challenges, many deep and meaningful conversations. Over time I have learnt how to weed my garden. To clear it of things that didn’t serve me. That didn’t make me feel wholesome, kind or safe. That made my life seem hard, unfortunate or not worthy. I’ve overcome grief, guilt, self-sabotage. 

Today my garden is flourishing.

One love,

DRK xxx

  

Day 12 – It’s Happening …. Clickedy, Click

Have you ever read articles on weight loss where people say something along the lines of “it just clicked” – cut to the amazing before and after shots???

Well I have … heaps and heaps and heaps and it annoys the crapola out of me! It’s so frustrating when you’re a dietaholic, like me, and you hear that there was this miraculous ‘click’ for other people who have struggled with their weight too yet for some reason you haven’t heard it, felt it, seen it or touched it for yourself. And I’ve waited, trust me, I have waited AND waited for this clicking shit to happen.

I wonder when they say it do they mean that it was a definitive click that just materialised out of thin air and then they were cured? Or was it a series of clicks because these before and after photos are deceiving to a visual person like me. To me it looks as though one day they woke up overweight, then something clicked and the next morning they were slim! That. Does. My. Fucking. Head. In!!!!

BUT ……

Of course there is a but ….. Isn’t there always?!

I’ve notice changes in the last 12 days. Changes other than the 4.5kg loss (yes I’m bragging). Nice little changes that may be ever so subtle clicks. Like the rarely-there cravings for chocolate and my ability to talk the odd one out of eventuating. Or the teeny little slip-up that stays a teeny little slip-up and doesn’t turn into a guilt induced oh-well-I-fucked-it binge. I am drinking lots of water – in fact, I am craving it. I am finding the word ‘no’ rolls off my tongue easier and I don’t feel completely deprived when I say it.

It’s kinda awesome. It kinda feels like the beginning of something bigger for me and maybe my problem all along was that I was ‘waiting’ for the click when I should have gone out and activated the fucker myself!

Have you heard the click? Are you one of those who has an awesome ‘before’ & ‘after’?

I want to have awesome ‘b&a’ photos – just for me 🙂

One love

DRK xxx

 

 

Working Shit Out ….

What do you do when you don’t know what to do? How do you figure it out?

I am so busy with a full household and with a full household comes a full schedule and with a FIFO husband comes a fucken full schedule. I barely have time to do anything on top of the necessities let alone spend time finding out what it is I really want to do. Even since giving up Facebook with all my extra time I have now started blogging daily (yep, loving it) but I have already let slip some household duties, namely ironing, so I am now overloaded with ironing piles – now remember I have five children right so skimping on ironing even just for one day is bad …. really bad! Also I am not vacuuming every day as I usually would and I have only mopped once this week – which may not sound bad but it’s not my usual way of housewife-ing and again lets just remind you that I have five kids – four of which are stinky dirty boys!

If I had more time (or was more organised) I would have weekly menus, shopping lists ready to go, a de-cluttered home (yes the ironing would be done), I’d exercise more to have the figure that I desperately want, and I’d have a plan of what I want to do in my life. So I need to be organised to be organised right?! Maybe this is fairly common for stay-at-home/working mums because during the whole ‘giving’ and ‘being’ we forget who we are and we become confused as to what it is we should be doing as opposed to what we want to be doing but then that would be totally selfish right?!

So I asked myself an important question and quite possibly a pointless one …. Q: If time and money weren’t an issue what would I do?? Really what would I do? A: Well, my dream is to renovate old character houses, decorating them in styles and themes that I love and then I would on sell them and they would be smokin’ red hot because I have some awesome ideas and concepts! I would write a best selling novel because I have so many friggin’ cool stories locked away in my creative mind. I would holiday in the sunshine coz I like it all sunshiny and warm, hell I’d have a holiday house where I would go to write. I would inspire others to live life – I don’t know how I just would. I’d read a book in a day, a whole freakin book! I’d have a personal yoga instructor and an ironing person and a chef and a person who comes in every day and puts new sheets on my bed! I knew I should of been born a princess!

Not sure it is helpful to think of these things and I think I am done now having a whinge for now …

I would love to hear your dreams and goals – come on, fucken inspire me Superwomen!!!

One Love

DRK xxx

Vagina Biscuits – Yep, Vagina Biscuits!

Sooooooooo ……………..

I ….ah… ummm…. well I googled ‘Vagina Biscuits’ the other day. Yep, Vagina Biscuits. Now I know you may be wondering why on earth I’d google something like that and I’ll get to the reason soon, promise. But it’s likely that you may be a lot wiser then me and already know what a Vagina Biscuit is OR what you think it is, like me who was pretty certain I knew what it was! And let me tell you what I thought it was and what it actually is according to google well lets just say VB’s are definitely not the kind of biscuits you’d share with Nana over a cup of tea!

vagina-cupcakes

Mmmm tasty!

 

 

Let me tell you the two things I learnt from my Google research ….

One: a vagina biscuit isn’t what I thought it was and
Two: a vagina biscuit REALLY ISN’T what I thought it was….

Which leads me to this concern…How did you get here? If you accidentally landed here then what on earth did you google to come across this post or perhaps more importantly, where have you been before you ‘innocently‘ arrived here? But assuming you are one of my loyal followers and that you are here honourably I’m telling you, especially if you are a little bit prudish like me – don’t Google Vagina Biscuits ………… Ok? You got it? Do. Not. Google. VB………………………………….

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…………………………You just Googled Vagina Biscuits didn’t you?!

 

I said I would share the reason why I googled Vagina Biscuit in the first place but first lets shorten it to VB otherwise the word vagina is going to turn my M-rated site into an X rated 1.9.Hundred Johnny-came-lately site! So Googling started innocently enough. With a walk, a good friend and a conversation about her cervix or lack thereof. She was telling me all about these pessaries that she has to use to help her with her progesterone levels and to keep her cervix stable during pregnancy. Pessaries being the VB. A biscuit for your vagina – get it?!

As the words VB tumbled out of her mouth I giggled like a 9 year old who had just heard the word penis for the first time. “What the hell is a VB?” I had asked naively. Happy to share the details she indulged me and we both agreed that it would make a good blog … So when I got home I googled it, to get some inspiration and appropriate information, you know so I wasn’t spinning complete bullshit. Instead I ended up with a shitload of dirty words and words related to all things edible for example: fur burger, pink taco, passion fruit and my personal favourite (*insert sarcasm*) a meat wallet. There was also graphic images of VB, and a god awful song about VB on youtube by some disgusting teenager who obviously hasn’t been taught how to be a real man – his Mama would be real proud! There was nothing, and I do mean nothing, on pessaries, progesterone or cervixes!

The saying ‘learn something new everyday’ certainly applied on this particular day and if you want to know what the real definition of a VB is then head here…… http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=vagina+biscuit

This is for those who already knew what a VB was ... Now you too have learnt something new! I also thought a banana was appropriate ....

This is for those who already knew what a VB was … Now you too have learnt something new! I also thought a banana was appropriate ….

Well that’ll be enough dirty talk for one day ….

One love

DRK xxxx

 

Men & The Throne

The Throne is that lovely white porcelain chair that men love to spend many hours upon and that women hate to clean and hate even more to realise after sitting upon it that it is wet! Yes, I am discussing bathroom etiquette today. Not the most invigorating post and certainly not the cleanest post I’ll ever do but it’s worth a discussion at least especially considering I have five boys in my household AND I was also brought up in a family with four boys. Kinda makes me qualified don’t you think….

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In general, I believe and please correct me if I am wrong, chairs were designed to be sat upon not stood in front of flashing your …. errrrm … manhood. Chairs are designed to cradle your derrière, be heightened for you to sit with legs bent comfortably at a 90(ish) degree angle and so your feet reach the floor with physical ease – unless of course you are four and 3 feet tall so you dangle them precariously over the edge all the while at risk of falling butt first into the big hole of what is certainly dirty water. This particular white, porcelain chair happens to be a functional piece in another sense and offers a spacious hole in it to allow things to … er… umm…. flow. It’s a pretty big hole but then I guess there are some pretty big arseholes out there too!

Now one of my all time favourite pastimes is having five minutes to myself which is rare (although I am typing this now while sitting at the hairdressers) ….. But that ‘5 minutes of peace’ never includes ladies room visits and that is for two reasons …. 1) What mother ever got a 5 minute break while using the ladies room? This seems to be the meeting place for discussions of: Muuumm X poked Y in the eye, Muuuuuumm Y laughed at X for tripping over and Muuuuuuuuuuummm Y said a swear word – at which point you’re out the door, pants around the ankle only to find out the ‘swear word’ was poobumwee. The second reason 5 minutes peace does not exist in my house while in the ladies room is, and I did mention it, I have five boys. Included in this equation is my husband. They should always be included because generally husbands are just another child who requires lots of one-on-one attention and care but with one massive point of difference you also have to have sex with them, put that on your memo ladies!

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So in theory with five boys there comes at least 15 drops of pee per peeing/shaking session unless it’s the first morning pee then you can almost certainly guarantee there is going to be piss all over the place coz somehow, overnight, their junk grew and the seat shrunk! Lets do the mathematics 15 drops x 5 boys x 5 pees a day equals .. well a urine coated seat, floor and if you’re lucky wall! So this brings forward the discussion – should we be teaching our boys to sit? My answer in flashing desperate neon lights is a big, fat yes!

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They are capable of bending and sitting to do number two’s without any dramas so why can’t they do that for number one’s? Sitting lets the law of gravity help that dingle dangle down where it should and then there are no drips dropped on the seat where the ladies sit. There will never be an argument about putting the toilet seat down, no lady roars when the girls of the house have sat on someone else’s pee because they didn’t even put the seat up in the first place, no whinges and whines when the boys are asked to clean up their ‘mess’ and there will be peace. love and harmony throughout the house.

tlt-useMakes sense doesn’t? This is of course unless you are so well endowed that your member bungee jumps head first into the water but with a member that long you shouldn’t be missing the gapping big hole in the throne now should you? Also when you are using a public restroom do as you please, stand up and pee, show your manhood and beat your fists on your chest I don’t care coz your dribble then isn’t my arses problem. Oh and a urinal – definitely continue standing for this as sitting may be somewhat uncomfortable.

So do you or will you teach your boys to sit?

One love,

DRK xxx