2 glorious week off work. 2 weeks to do whatever the hell I want without somebody telling me I'm doing it wrong. Or maybe I am doing it wrong, the holiday that is.
See my idea of a holiday is not packing up and going somewhere, or planning day trips all over the place. My idea of a holiday, is turning off the work pc and just doing whatever the hell I want. I can do as much as I want or as little as I want. And it's not costing me a dime, which is just as well since I don't have any money to go anywhere anyway.
Whenever I say I'm going on leave, I get asked constantly 'where are you going?', ummmm nowhere, the response is usually cries of shock and gasps of horror. Apparently I'm not doing it right. I should be jumping on a cruise (I work for the company last thing I want to do is anything associated with work), I should be meeting up and going out with people, why? I don't lock myself up and refuse to go out when I'm working, I just go out around my shift. And why should I spend a fortune doing something I really don't want to do, just cause everyone else does it?
I put my money towards paying off bills and buying stuff for the house, I really really really need a new bed. I don't have extra to squander on a cruise or shopping. Don't get me wrong, cruising is a great holiday, unpack once and someone else runs around doing everything for you, perfect. But to be honest I'd rather sleep in my own bed, and watch whatever I want on telly, or sit down and read. Hmmmm, I guess you could say I'm not a great mixer. The thing is by the time I finally have some leave, I'm usually so tense and fed up with having to deal with morons that the first person who I hear whine just a little bit would die LOL.
Ahhhh I hear you wondering why I am on my pc when I work on one all day. Well that's easy this one is for fun, I enjoy being on my pc, I'm not wearing a headset and I'm not wondering when my next break is. The whole damn day is a break, yahhhhh.
So for the first official day of my holidays, I've done the laundry, vaccummed the floors, made the beds and tidied up the house, heaven. Yep it sounds crazy and yeh these are things I do all the time, but I don't have to rush to finish before I start work, if I want to stop halfway through the vacuuming I do. No pressure = no tension, perfect. I do have one plan and that's to pick up my cutie pie grand daughter from day care tomorrow. I can handle that easy peasy, sure hope I don't nod off on the couch and sleep through it. I'm sure her mum would wake me up in a panic though LOL.
So I'm going to grab an orange and my book and do some reading. Have a wonderful day peeps.
Catch yas
Cathy
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Sunday, October 14, 2012
21!!!!!!!!!!!! No way
Well here we are on the eve of the birth of another one of my children, the last one this time folks so you only have to put up with ramblings about how wonderful they are one more time, at least for this year LOL.
21 years ago, I was in the hospital, trying to get some sleep while having incredible back pains, the labour pains were nothing compared to the back pain. I knew my husband was in the waiting room, in the uncomfortable chairs, despite being told I wouldn't give birth tonight and to go on home. Cause that's the sort of person he was. 2 other women were in there with me. One had been admitted but her pains had stopped, she'd end up going home in the morning, the other was being monitored for problems. All I wanted to do was sleep but I couldn't. I wanted to go back home and sleep in my nice warm waterbed, but the hospital wanted me to stay in.
A nurse finally took pity on me and got me a hot water bottle which she put under my back, the pain eased immediately and I went to sleep. I found out in the morning she replaced it twice during the night to give me a chance to sleep, thank you whoever you were. Don came in first thing in the morning, looking worse than me, obviously those chairs were not for sleeping. We must of walked everywhere in the hospital, I'm pretty sure we even went into several storage areas. I couldn't eat or drink anything without wanting to throw it back up. And despite the fact my husband had a heart condition, he walked alongside me all day, never asking to rest for a bit, only stopping to grab himself some water.
The day dragged on and I watched women in labour going inside all day, we even saw one go in early in the morning and come back out that night, with a baby. I was so jealous. They all said that the more babies you have the shorter the labour, ha, my third was the longest. About 9pm I was finally taken down to the labour ward. Propped up with a bean bag, I kept telling them to take away, and gas they kept shoving over my face till finally I threw it at someone and said, stop it's making me sick and get this fucking bean bag out of here. Why is there always some idiot that says, now there's no need to swear dear. I tell you she's lucky she still had all her teeth.
About 10.30 Dale was finally born, one of the poor midwifes had bruising up her arm where I'd squeezed to hard. He was in his fathers arms, and I was lying there with tears streaming down my face. Don had a cold and he was holding his cough in as he cradled his son, the pressure turning his face red, but my heart was filled with love at the sight of him struggling. It would of been easy for him to hand him to me or one of the nurses so he could cough, but no he wouldn't give him up.
I was moved to a bed and Dale was whisked away to the nursery, so I could get some sleep. Don went home to make all the calls. The next day the girls arrived with their nana, and they too were rapt in him. Of course that wouldn't last cause we all know babies have a habit of growing up LOL. The next day we were home and surrounded by bloody Indians. The kind from India not the other ones. They were living with us while settling in after immigrating. I didn't need to do anything but feed Dale, they did everything for me, which was lovely but so damn boring I had to fake doctors appointments to get out of the house with him. We moved into our own home 2 weeks later with the Indians in a caravan out the back.
When Dale was 20 mths old his father died. He loved our son and my girls ferociously, but the one thing he wanted to do, see them grow up, he couldn't. We moved around a lot and the kids all grew up. As the youngest Dale was a bit spoiled, but his sisters also did the strangest things with him. They'd dress him up like a girl, paint his nails and make him play all the girly games. But he loved it. That was until he had to go to school and found out they'd been torturing him for years.
Dale hated school, used to make himself sick so he didn't have to go, or he'd spend the day in sick bay. Finally one teacher refused to let him go to sick bay, and we colluded against him so he had to stay at school. He finally gave up the fake sicknesses and found he actually had fun. Of course that all changes in high school, your not there to have fun your there to pick up girls and do all the things we hope they won't do, but deep in our hearts know they'll try. Our house was no longer filled with friends of the girls, now it was filled with friends of Dale. I felt like I actually had 10 children not 3 with the amount that would sleep over on the weekend. I'm pretty sure some of his mates slept over to catch a glimpse of his sisters, cause well they had boobs LOL.
Finally out into the working world and growing up at 16. That's 5 yrs ago now, and so much has changed and so much has stayed the same. Dale works out every week, watches what he eats, but he still knows how to party hard. He didn't want a big 21st, so it was just dinner with the family on Saturday night. He picked the place and didn't have to pay. His sisters and their families gave him a voucher for sky diving, something he has been wanting to do since his brother in law did it. I gave him his special photo album that they all got when they turned 21, and a concert ticket that he wanted badly. And me I got the pleasure of being with the family at the same time, sharing memories with photos and just thinking back over the years. It's amazing to me how memories resurface with the telling of a story or looking at a picture, looking at the girls holding him in hospital, or putting their hats on him and telling him to pose, I remember all the joy, all the love and all the sorrow.
No matter where Dales life takes him, no matter where mine takes me, we are family. I am proud of him and love him with all my heart. Happy Birthday Dale.
And now to embarrass him with a pic he hates, but I love.
Catch ya's
Cathy
21 years ago, I was in the hospital, trying to get some sleep while having incredible back pains, the labour pains were nothing compared to the back pain. I knew my husband was in the waiting room, in the uncomfortable chairs, despite being told I wouldn't give birth tonight and to go on home. Cause that's the sort of person he was. 2 other women were in there with me. One had been admitted but her pains had stopped, she'd end up going home in the morning, the other was being monitored for problems. All I wanted to do was sleep but I couldn't. I wanted to go back home and sleep in my nice warm waterbed, but the hospital wanted me to stay in.
A nurse finally took pity on me and got me a hot water bottle which she put under my back, the pain eased immediately and I went to sleep. I found out in the morning she replaced it twice during the night to give me a chance to sleep, thank you whoever you were. Don came in first thing in the morning, looking worse than me, obviously those chairs were not for sleeping. We must of walked everywhere in the hospital, I'm pretty sure we even went into several storage areas. I couldn't eat or drink anything without wanting to throw it back up. And despite the fact my husband had a heart condition, he walked alongside me all day, never asking to rest for a bit, only stopping to grab himself some water.
The day dragged on and I watched women in labour going inside all day, we even saw one go in early in the morning and come back out that night, with a baby. I was so jealous. They all said that the more babies you have the shorter the labour, ha, my third was the longest. About 9pm I was finally taken down to the labour ward. Propped up with a bean bag, I kept telling them to take away, and gas they kept shoving over my face till finally I threw it at someone and said, stop it's making me sick and get this fucking bean bag out of here. Why is there always some idiot that says, now there's no need to swear dear. I tell you she's lucky she still had all her teeth.
About 10.30 Dale was finally born, one of the poor midwifes had bruising up her arm where I'd squeezed to hard. He was in his fathers arms, and I was lying there with tears streaming down my face. Don had a cold and he was holding his cough in as he cradled his son, the pressure turning his face red, but my heart was filled with love at the sight of him struggling. It would of been easy for him to hand him to me or one of the nurses so he could cough, but no he wouldn't give him up.
I was moved to a bed and Dale was whisked away to the nursery, so I could get some sleep. Don went home to make all the calls. The next day the girls arrived with their nana, and they too were rapt in him. Of course that wouldn't last cause we all know babies have a habit of growing up LOL. The next day we were home and surrounded by bloody Indians. The kind from India not the other ones. They were living with us while settling in after immigrating. I didn't need to do anything but feed Dale, they did everything for me, which was lovely but so damn boring I had to fake doctors appointments to get out of the house with him. We moved into our own home 2 weeks later with the Indians in a caravan out the back.
When Dale was 20 mths old his father died. He loved our son and my girls ferociously, but the one thing he wanted to do, see them grow up, he couldn't. We moved around a lot and the kids all grew up. As the youngest Dale was a bit spoiled, but his sisters also did the strangest things with him. They'd dress him up like a girl, paint his nails and make him play all the girly games. But he loved it. That was until he had to go to school and found out they'd been torturing him for years.
Dale hated school, used to make himself sick so he didn't have to go, or he'd spend the day in sick bay. Finally one teacher refused to let him go to sick bay, and we colluded against him so he had to stay at school. He finally gave up the fake sicknesses and found he actually had fun. Of course that all changes in high school, your not there to have fun your there to pick up girls and do all the things we hope they won't do, but deep in our hearts know they'll try. Our house was no longer filled with friends of the girls, now it was filled with friends of Dale. I felt like I actually had 10 children not 3 with the amount that would sleep over on the weekend. I'm pretty sure some of his mates slept over to catch a glimpse of his sisters, cause well they had boobs LOL.
Finally out into the working world and growing up at 16. That's 5 yrs ago now, and so much has changed and so much has stayed the same. Dale works out every week, watches what he eats, but he still knows how to party hard. He didn't want a big 21st, so it was just dinner with the family on Saturday night. He picked the place and didn't have to pay. His sisters and their families gave him a voucher for sky diving, something he has been wanting to do since his brother in law did it. I gave him his special photo album that they all got when they turned 21, and a concert ticket that he wanted badly. And me I got the pleasure of being with the family at the same time, sharing memories with photos and just thinking back over the years. It's amazing to me how memories resurface with the telling of a story or looking at a picture, looking at the girls holding him in hospital, or putting their hats on him and telling him to pose, I remember all the joy, all the love and all the sorrow.
No matter where Dales life takes him, no matter where mine takes me, we are family. I am proud of him and love him with all my heart. Happy Birthday Dale.
And now to embarrass him with a pic he hates, but I love.
And okay a couple he would approve of.
Catch ya's
Cathy
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
My Neighbours Kids are Mutants
Well I'm thinking they are anyway. They are lovely kids, don't get me wrong, but I'm thinking they are too lovely. They play happily together, fights are over before they have begun and they actually listen to their parents. It creeps me out to be honest.
If one of them is upset they will calmly speak up and say "Jemima, you hurt my feelings" to which Jemima will reply "I'm very sorry I hurt your feelings, I will try very hard not to hurt you anymore". I'm like wtf, a normal brat, or maybe it would just be me, would of pounded on Jemima with a big stick while shouting abuse at her and they wouldn't of admitted it was because of hurt feelings. Once apologies are accepted they skip off into the sunset to play happily together for hours on end. There are 4 kids all together, and apart from the youngest who is just a toddler, they are super polite and super nice. The toddler is nice, but whinges a fair bit as toddlers are wont to do.
I feel like I'm living next to mutants or cyborgs, programmed to suck us all in with their super niceness, until one day they snap and turn on us all with sub machine guns.
Even the parents are super nice and polite, no raised voices from that house, unless it's the raised voice in laughter of the kids having a great time. Mum and Dad quietly explain to the kids why something is not acceptable. The grandmother tells the oldest that shouting across the road to her friends is not ladylike, and the kid actually listens and doesn't do it again, even going so far as to tell her friends to please not shout across the road.
Dad comes home from work, and the kids all rush outside, vying to be the first to wrap their arms around him, as if he's returning from a 10 yr absence. Ummm hello it's just Dad, no one exciting, not like he's bringing home Johnny Depp for dinner or anything. I'm cynical, aren't I, yep I am, but I'm creeped out. I was such a rebel, sure I agreed with what the olds said, but did I do it, bet your arse I didn't LOL.
I seriously can't remember any hurt feelings in my childhood, I'm sure there were just can't remember them. I remember chinese burns, nipple cripples and pushing and shoving. Oh and lots of shouting and swearing, no not from Mum and Dad LOL, My own kids were probably not as bad as me and my 2 brothers, but they didn't elicit creepy feelings from too much niceness like the neighbour kids.
Schools out over here for 2 weeks, so for a week and half, I've been listening to them compliment each other, play nicely, help their mum, and be kind to each other. I'm telling you I am a nervous wreck, just waiting for one of them to pop up at my window with their little smiley face and whipping up the uzi and blasting me to hell and back. Until they are back at school my house is going to be a fortress, locked doors and windows, I'll keep the lights off so they don't know I'm home and they can't get me, only another 4 days to get through and I'm safe till the next holidays.
Catch yas
Cathy
If one of them is upset they will calmly speak up and say "Jemima, you hurt my feelings" to which Jemima will reply "I'm very sorry I hurt your feelings, I will try very hard not to hurt you anymore". I'm like wtf, a normal brat, or maybe it would just be me, would of pounded on Jemima with a big stick while shouting abuse at her and they wouldn't of admitted it was because of hurt feelings. Once apologies are accepted they skip off into the sunset to play happily together for hours on end. There are 4 kids all together, and apart from the youngest who is just a toddler, they are super polite and super nice. The toddler is nice, but whinges a fair bit as toddlers are wont to do.
I feel like I'm living next to mutants or cyborgs, programmed to suck us all in with their super niceness, until one day they snap and turn on us all with sub machine guns.
Even the parents are super nice and polite, no raised voices from that house, unless it's the raised voice in laughter of the kids having a great time. Mum and Dad quietly explain to the kids why something is not acceptable. The grandmother tells the oldest that shouting across the road to her friends is not ladylike, and the kid actually listens and doesn't do it again, even going so far as to tell her friends to please not shout across the road.
Dad comes home from work, and the kids all rush outside, vying to be the first to wrap their arms around him, as if he's returning from a 10 yr absence. Ummm hello it's just Dad, no one exciting, not like he's bringing home Johnny Depp for dinner or anything. I'm cynical, aren't I, yep I am, but I'm creeped out. I was such a rebel, sure I agreed with what the olds said, but did I do it, bet your arse I didn't LOL.
I seriously can't remember any hurt feelings in my childhood, I'm sure there were just can't remember them. I remember chinese burns, nipple cripples and pushing and shoving. Oh and lots of shouting and swearing, no not from Mum and Dad LOL, My own kids were probably not as bad as me and my 2 brothers, but they didn't elicit creepy feelings from too much niceness like the neighbour kids.
Schools out over here for 2 weeks, so for a week and half, I've been listening to them compliment each other, play nicely, help their mum, and be kind to each other. I'm telling you I am a nervous wreck, just waiting for one of them to pop up at my window with their little smiley face and whipping up the uzi and blasting me to hell and back. Until they are back at school my house is going to be a fortress, locked doors and windows, I'll keep the lights off so they don't know I'm home and they can't get me, only another 4 days to get through and I'm safe till the next holidays.
Catch yas
Cathy
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Magpie Madness
Yep tis the season, for all you Aussies at least. Time to don the ice cream tub hat, walk around carrying sticks, stick springy things on your bike helmet, and generally duck!!!!!.
For those of you who don't know what a magpie is here's a pic.
As you can see it is a vicious man eating, flying beast that strikes fear in the heart of every man and woman in Australia. Every spring they emerge from hibernation and begin breeding. They then defend their nests from such nasties as the inappropriately dressed jogger (lets face it he's asking to be attacked).
.jpg)
For those of you who don't know what a magpie is here's a pic.
As you can see it is a vicious man eating, flying beast that strikes fear in the heart of every man and woman in Australia. Every spring they emerge from hibernation and begin breeding. They then defend their nests from such nasties as the inappropriately dressed jogger (lets face it he's asking to be attacked).
Or they'll swoop on the unsuspecting cyclist.
She never saw danger coming, shaking head in grief.
I remember as a kid walking home from the bus stop, and hearing the familiar thump thump thump and someone shouting DUCK!!! Of course it wasn't a duck, it was a magpie swooping down on an unprotected head. For years we'd either run down the road, or carry a stick to wave above our heads. Now I've got my license I just drive down the road, they can't get me now LOL. At this time of year you see lots of sticks being waved in the air, don't think they are threatening you, they are just trying to ward off an attack. Of course if your some pervert peeping in a window and it's nightime, then yeh the person waving the stick may be threatening you, but face it, your a perv you deserve it.
The threat of magpies, and they have hurt people before, has led to crazy inventions such as below.
This one is actually my favourite cause apparently if your looking at the magpie they won't attack. If you don't have this helmet then the tree you walk into while looking up at the magpie will probably do more damage than the magpie. If you don't want to go to any expense, then grab a stick or an ice cream tub (make sure you consume the ice cream first), draw eyes on the back and top of the tub and fool those crazy magpies.
I usually know the season has started not by getting attacked myself but by noticing a walkers misfortune as I drive past well protected. Regardless of how horrible it is to be swooped on I always find myself smiling at their misfortune. Sure hope karma doesn't get me for that.
Remember the magpie is only protecting its nest, they don't really hate you, so don't get all paranoid and think the world is out to get you. Although come to think of it maybe the world is out to get you, but the magpies of this world aren't.
Catch yas
Cathy
Saturday, August 18, 2012
And then there was 2
As I sit and ponder whether or not to pluck or shave this errant hair in my chin, I flash back to when I was a hell of a lot younger and had no chin hairs to the birth of my second daughter Caryn.
Caryn was born on the 19th August 1986, 6 days late grrrrrr. Unlike her older sister Caryn liked to ride out the pregnancy low, kicking or resting on my bladder the whole 9 mths. As I got bigger I couldn't manage stairs she was so low, which meant someone else had to do all my running around upstairs for me at work, it was a real hardship not being able to do it LOL. I left work a month before she was born to spend some time with Tara and get everything ready. Didn't take much to get ready as I had everything I needed already, but I did find myself cleaning mold off walls and ceilings, maybe out of boredom, maybe in the hope of bringing on labour.
My husband of the day, lets just refer to him as sperm donor which is much more polite than what we normally call him, had asked his brother to come and stay with us so he could look after Tara while I was in hospital. Scott was a gem, he was a chef, and boy did we eat good in that time. The morning of the 19th I was having my usual check up and while waiting could feel an annoying back pain. Nothing really surprising since I was 9 mths pregnant. My doctor told me that if she wasn't born over the weekend they'd induce me on Monday, but that I couldn't have her that day as it was his sons birthday and he had a party to attend. I laughed with him, but before I left I turned back as another back pain hit me and said, sorry but it is going to be today. I drove up to where the sperm donor worked and told him to make sure to come straight home, do not go to the pub for a beer or two, come straight home as I was having the baby today. He told me I couldn't possible know but sure he'd come straight home, HAH.
As the day wore on my back pain spread, but still not enough to go to the hospital. At about 4 pm and still no sign of the errant sperm donor (due back at 3), I asked Scott to drive me to the hospital. Now as much as I always loved his cooking, let me tell you, don't ever ask him to drive you to the hospital while your in labour, even if it is just up the road. He has a habit of talking to you while driving which is fine, but he also looks at you. Tara is bouncing away in the back seat having a great old time, while her mother is in the front in agony watching as Scott drives us straight towards a garbage truck, swerving at the last minute as his eyes find the road once more.
Luckily we all arrived in one piece, I asked him to go over to the pub and find his brother and marched on in. Got checked out and started the labour walk, up and down the corridor with other soon to be mums all in various stages of labour, but one thing stood out, I was the only one without a partner. By 5.30 pm I knew that I couldn't keep walking, so I staggered up to the nurses and was taken to the labour ward, much nicer than the one I was in with Tara, and I was alone, although able to hear the cries of other woman. The sperm donor finally arrived and was ushered in at the same time as the doctor who was supposed to give me an epidural arrived. The sperm donor reeked of beer and the nurses all looked at him with disgust, I grabbed his thumb and rebroke it for him LOL. It had only just healed, he did try and pull it away but I held on for dear life and snap. The doctor said I was too far along for an epidural, I told him yeh I know I told them not to call you. As the clock ticked over the urge to push was strong, when I could hear a voice from the corridor, 'Wait wait, don't let her push yet'. My doctor had arrived. He scooted onto the stool just in time to catch Caryn. It was actually a really good labour, pretty painless till the end and she was delivered so easily.
One look at her little face and I knew I couldn't call her Aleisha or Simone, she wasn't either of them, so it was Caryn Aleisha, and yes that's how the Aleisha is supposed to be spelt LOL.
Two completely different labours and two completely different looking but oh so beautiful baby girls. With Tara I was the lone patient in the hospital, with Caryn it was packed, I couldn't wait to get out of there and sleep in my own bed, even if the sperm donor was there too.
Caryn, you didn't feed well as you know cause I've told you countless times :), and the nurse just kept telling me to have patience. I finally had had enough and walked up to the clinic and told the nurse on duty, she's been fed and changed, you get her to shut up, before taking Tara to the park across the road. I went back 15 mins later to the sounds of Caryn still crying and the nurse on the phone to her boss almost crying as she struggled to get you to settle. Grabbing you I told her that I would never take another one of my children to their clinic, marched home and called my doctor who recommended a part soy formula. We never looked back. You loved that stuff, and started sleeping normally and putting on weight for the first time in 6 weeks.
You were advanced at sitting up and attempting to crawl, but at 4 mths we discovered you had a dislocated hip and had probably had it from birth. So it was into a plaster for you and then a brace. Don't worry I won't post the embarrassing brace pic LOL. Finally you were free and able to walk, and then before I knew it you were running. You never slowed down always on the go doing something or other. It was during this time that I finally left the sperm donor, having had enough of his constant drinking and mental abuse. We were 3 girls on our own and we loved it.
I am so proud of you and all you have achieved and are continuing to achieve. Many people would doubt your will to succeed when you got pregnant at 16, but you continued to go to school till it got to much, the did school at home before and after the birth of your son. You worked at crap jobs to get some money for the two of you, and I watched you with pride. You are now married and have had 2 other children, and then you took on a foster child. 3 children under the age of 3 with 2 of them babys and you have Jayden to take to school when you have him. And there is Jacob, your stepson, who is not with you guys full time but when he's down for holidays your house is overflowing. And still you study, continuing your dream.
I seriously don't know how you do it, but do it everyday you do. I do know that you are a strong woman and if anyone can deal with it all it's you. Despite your complaints about the mounds of washing littering your lounge room, you still manage to have a laugh, usually at yourself.
So to my beautiful second daughter, breaking of small appliances, mother full and part time to 5, student, wife, and friend, I say Happy Birthday. I love you despite the many breakages LOL, and I'm proud of you every single day.
Catch ya
Cathy
Caryn was born on the 19th August 1986, 6 days late grrrrrr. Unlike her older sister Caryn liked to ride out the pregnancy low, kicking or resting on my bladder the whole 9 mths. As I got bigger I couldn't manage stairs she was so low, which meant someone else had to do all my running around upstairs for me at work, it was a real hardship not being able to do it LOL. I left work a month before she was born to spend some time with Tara and get everything ready. Didn't take much to get ready as I had everything I needed already, but I did find myself cleaning mold off walls and ceilings, maybe out of boredom, maybe in the hope of bringing on labour.
My husband of the day, lets just refer to him as sperm donor which is much more polite than what we normally call him, had asked his brother to come and stay with us so he could look after Tara while I was in hospital. Scott was a gem, he was a chef, and boy did we eat good in that time. The morning of the 19th I was having my usual check up and while waiting could feel an annoying back pain. Nothing really surprising since I was 9 mths pregnant. My doctor told me that if she wasn't born over the weekend they'd induce me on Monday, but that I couldn't have her that day as it was his sons birthday and he had a party to attend. I laughed with him, but before I left I turned back as another back pain hit me and said, sorry but it is going to be today. I drove up to where the sperm donor worked and told him to make sure to come straight home, do not go to the pub for a beer or two, come straight home as I was having the baby today. He told me I couldn't possible know but sure he'd come straight home, HAH.
As the day wore on my back pain spread, but still not enough to go to the hospital. At about 4 pm and still no sign of the errant sperm donor (due back at 3), I asked Scott to drive me to the hospital. Now as much as I always loved his cooking, let me tell you, don't ever ask him to drive you to the hospital while your in labour, even if it is just up the road. He has a habit of talking to you while driving which is fine, but he also looks at you. Tara is bouncing away in the back seat having a great old time, while her mother is in the front in agony watching as Scott drives us straight towards a garbage truck, swerving at the last minute as his eyes find the road once more.
Luckily we all arrived in one piece, I asked him to go over to the pub and find his brother and marched on in. Got checked out and started the labour walk, up and down the corridor with other soon to be mums all in various stages of labour, but one thing stood out, I was the only one without a partner. By 5.30 pm I knew that I couldn't keep walking, so I staggered up to the nurses and was taken to the labour ward, much nicer than the one I was in with Tara, and I was alone, although able to hear the cries of other woman. The sperm donor finally arrived and was ushered in at the same time as the doctor who was supposed to give me an epidural arrived. The sperm donor reeked of beer and the nurses all looked at him with disgust, I grabbed his thumb and rebroke it for him LOL. It had only just healed, he did try and pull it away but I held on for dear life and snap. The doctor said I was too far along for an epidural, I told him yeh I know I told them not to call you. As the clock ticked over the urge to push was strong, when I could hear a voice from the corridor, 'Wait wait, don't let her push yet'. My doctor had arrived. He scooted onto the stool just in time to catch Caryn. It was actually a really good labour, pretty painless till the end and she was delivered so easily.
One look at her little face and I knew I couldn't call her Aleisha or Simone, she wasn't either of them, so it was Caryn Aleisha, and yes that's how the Aleisha is supposed to be spelt LOL.
Two completely different labours and two completely different looking but oh so beautiful baby girls. With Tara I was the lone patient in the hospital, with Caryn it was packed, I couldn't wait to get out of there and sleep in my own bed, even if the sperm donor was there too.
Caryn, you didn't feed well as you know cause I've told you countless times :), and the nurse just kept telling me to have patience. I finally had had enough and walked up to the clinic and told the nurse on duty, she's been fed and changed, you get her to shut up, before taking Tara to the park across the road. I went back 15 mins later to the sounds of Caryn still crying and the nurse on the phone to her boss almost crying as she struggled to get you to settle. Grabbing you I told her that I would never take another one of my children to their clinic, marched home and called my doctor who recommended a part soy formula. We never looked back. You loved that stuff, and started sleeping normally and putting on weight for the first time in 6 weeks.
You were advanced at sitting up and attempting to crawl, but at 4 mths we discovered you had a dislocated hip and had probably had it from birth. So it was into a plaster for you and then a brace. Don't worry I won't post the embarrassing brace pic LOL. Finally you were free and able to walk, and then before I knew it you were running. You never slowed down always on the go doing something or other. It was during this time that I finally left the sperm donor, having had enough of his constant drinking and mental abuse. We were 3 girls on our own and we loved it.
I am so proud of you and all you have achieved and are continuing to achieve. Many people would doubt your will to succeed when you got pregnant at 16, but you continued to go to school till it got to much, the did school at home before and after the birth of your son. You worked at crap jobs to get some money for the two of you, and I watched you with pride. You are now married and have had 2 other children, and then you took on a foster child. 3 children under the age of 3 with 2 of them babys and you have Jayden to take to school when you have him. And there is Jacob, your stepson, who is not with you guys full time but when he's down for holidays your house is overflowing. And still you study, continuing your dream.
I seriously don't know how you do it, but do it everyday you do. I do know that you are a strong woman and if anyone can deal with it all it's you. Despite your complaints about the mounds of washing littering your lounge room, you still manage to have a laugh, usually at yourself.
So to my beautiful second daughter, breaking of small appliances, mother full and part time to 5, student, wife, and friend, I say Happy Birthday. I love you despite the many breakages LOL, and I'm proud of you every single day.
Catch ya
Cathy
Friday, August 10, 2012
The Church of.....
non believers maybe. First let me say I have no intention of upsetting anyone or their beliefs. This is simply my own thoughts and beliefs, if you are upset by reading it, then you have my apologies. But please do not leave comments that are nasty at all towards me cause I might just send my ninja delivery dude around to sort you out.
The boy comes home from work. He got into a heated discussion with a guy from his work over religion. The guy is Catholic, went to Catholic school and knows everything. The boy also knows everything, according to him anyway, so it would of been a very interesting convo. It all started when he showed the guy a news piece on the internet about a new species discovered, and the guy scoffed saying it was all bullshit and that the media made it up. The boy is fascinated with scientific stuff so asked why he thought that. He goes because God didn't create it. Okay, 1. how the hell would he know and 2. so what, it's there it existed.
I'm a believer in what I can see. I see the tree, but to be honest I don't care where the hell it came from so long as it doesn't fall on my house, car or me. If the tree stands in the middle of the road then I'll wonder where it came from, but until then, the tree goes it's way and I go mine. I can see my oven cooking my frozen pie that I got out of my freezer, and was packaged by a machine. Machines that are all built by scientists, not created by God. Too many wars have been fought in the name of God, or Allah, to count. So why would I want to believe in a God that lets people die in his name? Why would I believe in a God that lets murderers and rapists into heaven if they repent their sins? Wars are fought because some stupid idiot decided he didn't like the fact that the other guy had more oil or land than him. Of course that idiot is usually a politician or a king, and usually male.
The guys also said that animals evolved which confused my son, until he further explained that they had no souls so they could evolve. Has that dude ever looked into a puppys eyes for goodness sake. So if animals evolved why couldn't humans? After all we are animals, the only thing that differentiates us is opposable thumbs and a bigger brain (although the brain part can be disputed).
The guy then started to spout off what he did believe, he doesn't believe in Noahs Ark, or Moses, he believes in a Higher Power, and some evolution. There is the problem. You cannot pick and choose what to believe, unless you let me do the same. I don't believe, I could be wrong. But if I am wrong you can laugh at me from heaven as I live that eternal life that will get so freaking boring after about a month (and yes I will be in heaven, cause God forgives us all). And if I'm right, I'm not going to laugh at you for being wrong, I won't make fun of you, because simply when I'm dead I'm dead, there is nothing more than that.
I love the idea of a place where our loved ones watch us from above, but I don't believe it's real. I'm all for religious freedom, and in my religion of believing in nothing I have the freedom to do just that. I don't need to swear on a bible, cause that would not stop me from lying if I was a psychopath, if I say I will tell the truth and nothing but the truth then I will, I don't need to fight for God and country, because frankly if God wants a fight, let him do it himself.
So like the tree, anyone who wants to believe in God, can go their way, and I'll go mine. We'll live quite happily, unless they fall on my house of course, so long as neither one of us tries to interfere in the lives of the other. I promise to respect your beliefs and your freedom to choose, but you must also respect mine.
Catch ya
Cathy
The boy comes home from work. He got into a heated discussion with a guy from his work over religion. The guy is Catholic, went to Catholic school and knows everything. The boy also knows everything, according to him anyway, so it would of been a very interesting convo. It all started when he showed the guy a news piece on the internet about a new species discovered, and the guy scoffed saying it was all bullshit and that the media made it up. The boy is fascinated with scientific stuff so asked why he thought that. He goes because God didn't create it. Okay, 1. how the hell would he know and 2. so what, it's there it existed.
I'm a believer in what I can see. I see the tree, but to be honest I don't care where the hell it came from so long as it doesn't fall on my house, car or me. If the tree stands in the middle of the road then I'll wonder where it came from, but until then, the tree goes it's way and I go mine. I can see my oven cooking my frozen pie that I got out of my freezer, and was packaged by a machine. Machines that are all built by scientists, not created by God. Too many wars have been fought in the name of God, or Allah, to count. So why would I want to believe in a God that lets people die in his name? Why would I believe in a God that lets murderers and rapists into heaven if they repent their sins? Wars are fought because some stupid idiot decided he didn't like the fact that the other guy had more oil or land than him. Of course that idiot is usually a politician or a king, and usually male.
The guys also said that animals evolved which confused my son, until he further explained that they had no souls so they could evolve. Has that dude ever looked into a puppys eyes for goodness sake. So if animals evolved why couldn't humans? After all we are animals, the only thing that differentiates us is opposable thumbs and a bigger brain (although the brain part can be disputed).
The guy then started to spout off what he did believe, he doesn't believe in Noahs Ark, or Moses, he believes in a Higher Power, and some evolution. There is the problem. You cannot pick and choose what to believe, unless you let me do the same. I don't believe, I could be wrong. But if I am wrong you can laugh at me from heaven as I live that eternal life that will get so freaking boring after about a month (and yes I will be in heaven, cause God forgives us all). And if I'm right, I'm not going to laugh at you for being wrong, I won't make fun of you, because simply when I'm dead I'm dead, there is nothing more than that.
I love the idea of a place where our loved ones watch us from above, but I don't believe it's real. I'm all for religious freedom, and in my religion of believing in nothing I have the freedom to do just that. I don't need to swear on a bible, cause that would not stop me from lying if I was a psychopath, if I say I will tell the truth and nothing but the truth then I will, I don't need to fight for God and country, because frankly if God wants a fight, let him do it himself.
So like the tree, anyone who wants to believe in God, can go their way, and I'll go mine. We'll live quite happily, unless they fall on my house of course, so long as neither one of us tries to interfere in the lives of the other. I promise to respect your beliefs and your freedom to choose, but you must also respect mine.
Catch ya
Cathy
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Who's there?
I'm pretty sure my parcel delivery dude is a ninja. Or maybe he's a samurai or just plain sneaky. I'm sitting here at my pc, which is just a few steps away from the front door, my son messaged me to ask if his parcel had a arrived, I had to get up to get the phone, and there under the door is a card. Just about to tell him, no, when I saw it, picked it up and apparently my parcel had been left on the front verandah. WTF when the hell did he come, I'm home, the only time I wasn't nothing had arrived. The logical conclusion is ninja.
Who else had the prowess to sneak up without a sound, to place a package gently enough that it doesn't even rustle. And who else could dig a pen out of a pocket and slip a note under the door without even arousing a meow from the cat? Had to be a ninja, no other answer.
Unless of course it was samurai. These dudes could jump up onto buildings wearing wooden thongs and not have a hair out of place. They wore ridiculous outfits that despite the fact part of it was a skirt, never flapped in the breeze, or appeared creased.
Somehow the thought of someone like this getting that close to getting into my house is just plain scary! Especially if he looked like the above, geez that's one nasty looking dude. Don't want anyone like that in my neighbourhood thanks.
I'm going to stick with the ninja I think, they are cool, and at least they wear pants even if they easily sneak up on you to leave packages they are better than a dress wearing weirdo or a creepazoid!
Catch ya
Cathy
Who else had the prowess to sneak up without a sound, to place a package gently enough that it doesn't even rustle. And who else could dig a pen out of a pocket and slip a note under the door without even arousing a meow from the cat? Had to be a ninja, no other answer.
Unless of course it was samurai. These dudes could jump up onto buildings wearing wooden thongs and not have a hair out of place. They wore ridiculous outfits that despite the fact part of it was a skirt, never flapped in the breeze, or appeared creased.
And both of them had weapons, that never jingled or jangled when they moved. I can hear my knees creaking every time I move slightly so how the hell they do it I don't know. The only other option other than the ninja or samurai is the fact my delivery dude is just plan sneaky.
I'm going to stick with the ninja I think, they are cool, and at least they wear pants even if they easily sneak up on you to leave packages they are better than a dress wearing weirdo or a creepazoid!
Catch ya
Cathy
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)