Bereft
By hissychick | November 28, 2011
My beautiful Nana has died.
And all I want to do is drink..and other cliched life affirming activities.
Topics: The question is not why, moody blues | 3 Comments »
Whatever
By hissychick | November 16, 2011
What I said back in May continues to be my reality.
No I’m not OK. Thanks for your lack of concern.
I’m not seeking sympathy, I’m not attention seeking, I’m not a drama queen like that. I will continue to enquire as to how you are and mean it when I say that I hope all is well.
I don’t want to talk about it.
It would just be nice if my existence was acknowledged for once.
And that I could just let the years fall instead of feeling so numb.
Topics: hello i'm boring | 2 Comments »
Telling it like it is
By hissychick | November 10, 2011
“This is bullshit” I announced slowly, glass of wine in hand to the offending child whose eyes were now wide as saucers. The same sinus and fatigue ringed eyes that continue to fight sleep to a point well beyond ridiculous.
“But Mummy you said-”
“Bullshit. You heard correctly. Now good night! “
And you know what? It really is.
Topics: Going bogue | 2 Comments »
Thanks for the mammaries
By hissychick | June 2, 2011
Something had to give. Unfortunately it was the breastfeeding.
During last week’s round of bronchiolitis miss I got extremely congested and refused to feed. We’ve been there before, and I have pumped and fenugreeked to see us through. Somehow I got caught up with work/other kidlets/gym/everything else I do and when she was ready to come back my supply wasn’t up to scratch.
The refusals began. The hardcore pumping and supplements began.
The fussiness continued. The supply dwindled to a joke.
I persevered with the regime, internally raging against the inevitable and externally being the fishwife mother from hell. All while exuding that maple syrup smell familiar to those who use galactagogues, at first comforting, but rapidly an unwanted and not easily masked sensory reminder of my failings.
And then new molars started emerging under the gum line and with them point blank rejection.
So yesterday morning I made the heartbreaking decision to stop the pumping, the supplements and to simply not offer, not refuse.
My last baby has not fed since. It’s over. Only seventeen months and I am bereft.
I’m not ready to write the post where I muse on my breastfeeding career, share with you photos and fond memories. Quite frankly I am an absolute hormonal teary mess. As if I wasn’t enough of one already.
Three kidlets. Fifty four months of breastfeeding in total, only a five and a half month break out of the last forty eight months. This is the first time since the middle of 2006 that my body is my own.
And this time it’s forever.
Topics: thanks for the mammaries | 4 Comments »
Oversight
By hissychick | May 6, 2011
Something has left my life,
And I don’t know where it went to
Somebody caused me strife,
And it’s not what I was seeking.
Didn’t you see me, didn’t you hear me?
Didn’t you see me standing there?
Why did you turn out the lights?
Did you know that I was sleeping?
Say a prayer for me,
Help me to feel the strength I did.
My identity, has it been taken?
Is my heart breaking on me?
All my plans fell through my hands,
They fell through my hands on me.
All my dreams it suddenly seems,
It suddenly seems,
Empty.
~ The Cranberries~
For those of you who have read this far I just want it known that I am very, very fragile right now.
I am the woman you are on friendly terms with, but not the first person who comes to mind when organising a social get together. Or the last one you think of, so you won’t feel any guilt when you leave me out.
I am the social networker who writes the occasional little pithy remark that makes you laugh and sometimes comment, although mostly you simply move on to chatting with your real friends.
I am (or rather used to be) a blogger who might have made it as far as your blog roll, one to scan over in your RSS feed, leave a word or two comment if it was a particularly amusing piece but mostly lost in the haste to get down to the interesting and talented writers’ posts of the day.
I am the witty chick at work, someone to share political jibes with on your way to your next important meeting. The one who is on the mummy track, the one you don’t set aside interesting projects for anymore, the one you know is pretending to be busy because she knows you are quietly hoping she will resign because it really is full time or nothing, lip service be damned.
I am the one you have been married to for almost ten years, the ship that passes in the night, the one handing out chores the minute you arrive in the door. The person sized chore you tolerate in the hour and a half before you get to escape to the gym when it is your night (thank dog). Or usher out the door when it is her turn so you can watch something interesting on telly.
I am the busy daughter who copes, the one who you quickly check in on but allow the grandchildren to monopolise your attention…when your other daughter isn’t.
I am the parent who is whined at and constantly asked when Daddy will be home for large portions of the day.
I am an oversight.
Topics: Leave me alone, moody blues | 12 Comments »
Time management (or lack thereof)
By hissychick | March 28, 2011
I am beginning to suspect that mummyblogging is the domain of those who:
a) Are lucky enough to have all children currently at home taking simultaneous naps
b) Said children who go to bed at a reasonable hour so that me time isn’t in the post gym beyond fatigue zone
c) The time and ability to blog at work
d) A dongle that consistently works on the commute
e) A fancy schmancy smart phone that they are adept at typing on in those snatched alone moments in the loo
f) Weekends that aren’t crammed with the quality family time missed out on during the week and a monumental to do list of home maintenance and renovationn chores
hissychick=FAIL!
(Today’s post is brought to you by my managing to make it to my fifth week back at work before having to take time off with the runny bummed daycare reject miss I two weeks post her last gastro stay home with Daddy bug….)
Topics: B to the busy, a bit of fluff | 5 Comments »
Not a hissychick…a misanthropic bitch
By hissychick | March 11, 2011
It’s been a busy couple of weeks and so it is only now that I have found the time to sit down and have another bash at this get back to blogging gig.
Fridays are somewhat of a luxury for me, in that when miss Immyjim goes down for her nap I get the chance to have some time and space to myself. And the washing. And the dishes. And the niggling sense that I should be doing more household chores in general.
This Friday has been lazier than usual, as our usual post preschool reading group and grocery shopping has been abandoned for the the day after I had one of those early morning WWM11 moments upon finding my littlest miss in a cold spew covered cot.
(In my defence she had grizzled once in her sleep for less than the minute it took me to wake up and head down the hall to her room to investigate. As all had gone silent I went back to bed, assuming it had been a bad dream).
Then I had to face miss A’s disappointment at Mummy not coming into the classroom, expressed in her usual hostile I will speak rudely to you until you snap style. Which will be followed later with a perfectly worded note of apology*
On a brighter note, miss E was thrilled to head off to preschool, self dressed proudly in a style her teacher aptly coined as “Scottish with bling”.
Anyway. Where was I?
With my slightly off colour but eternally cheerful bonus baby still slumbering peacefully after a self determined early nap time- offers of food and boob met with a determined “Na!” accompanied by a shake of the head, then a toddle to her room, finger pointed at cot and a “Nigh-nigh’s!” (got to love a fourteen and a half month old who can so clearly communicate what she wants)- here I am, tapping away on the keyboard.
Can you even follow my scattered non train of thought?
I realise my last post was a sensitive topic, and I hope that I worded it appropriately so as not to unduly offend anyone. As an update on this issue…I did speak to my friend about not wanting visits for a little while and she has been fantastic and understanding. The situation has reached crisis point after her daughter attempted to push another student in front of a bus and so there has been medical and behavioural intervention put in place which of course is going to take time.
It is a heartbreaking situation, and I hope that the child in question gets the assistance that she needs. In the meantime I am relieved that my reaction was the appropriate one….
…is it terrible to admit to being relieved that it was not miss A that was pushed in front of the bus when a year or two earlier she was the focus of her friend’s fixations? (Guilty as charged).
All of that was my long winded way of getting around to the original topic of this post, which was to ‘fess up to having had a rough time when it comes to female friendships of late.
Those of you who put up with me on Facebook might be aware of my reference to passive aggressive behaviour. What I was talking about was having to consistently dodge barbs from many mother friends of late. My crime? Being a by no means perfect parent who has managed to produce three bright and mostly kidlets with no significant and/or ongoing issues beyond the usual childhood concerns thus far.
Apparently being quiet, listening to the concerns of your friends and trying to offer support in the form of sympathy rather than assvice is a crime. Being asked how your kids are going, saying “Fine for now *touch wood*” and then when pressed for specific details carefully and somewhat reluctantly admitting that I has adjusted to daycare, E is possibly going to school next year and A is in the highly capable student group makes me a stuck up cow. And apparently I have real nerve for dealing as I go with getting three kidlets to care and the two hour each way commute to work. A job that is demanding but interesting. That I am trying to get fit to cope with it all by committing to a regular gym program. BITCH!
Far out. And they wonder why I don’t actually volunteer information often. I’m aware that I am incredibly lucky. I’m aware that this is a mostly good patch that could change any second (didn’t mention that I am still woken up every night by two out of three kidlets now did I?). I make no claims that any of this is due to my parenting, although I hope it does show a little bit that I am not as bad as I often think I am.
Why do women always seem to think it is always about them? That somehow someone else’s unrelated fortunes or misfortunes are inextricably bound up with their own? Why are my male friends not like this (thank dog)?
I think I am long overdue for a catch up with the select group of ladies I have affectionately and wryly dubbed the Faulco foxies. Honest, strong and funny women who tell it like it is to your face and not your back.
I wish I could be in real life contact with those of you inside the computer who are like exactly like that.
And now the ramble must come to an end. I hope I didn’t come across as a smug prat. Sorry about that.
* Have to take a photo but it said “Dear Mum, I am sorry I was being Silly. Love A x” And yes I have cried. More than once and for many reasons.
Topics: (arse)facebook, Going bogue, Leave me alone, Ouch, hello i'm boring, hissyfit, moody blues | 2 Comments »
Stunned
By hissychick | March 3, 2011
I had intended for my latest post to be all about my return to work (long story short: full on but all involved are fine) and perhaps a witty recap of miss A’s belated birthday party. However today I am going to focus on an incident that occurred at said party which shocked me so much more than the ear shrieking squeals of eight six year old girls in one room.
We were less than half an hour into festivities yesterday when I went to round up the children for a party game (side note: since when did kids get so bolshie as to backchat and refuse to follow directions from their friend’s mother?).
Just as the last girl had gathered in the group and I was saying let’s go and play pass the parcel…one of the girls suddenly viciously slapped me in the stomach. Without warning. Without provocation. And hard enough that a red mark was still evident on my skin half an hour later. The kids initially giggled nervously but then quickly saw that a) It had hurt and b) I was not happy.
In a shocked but very tightly controlled voice I told the child her behaviour was unacceptable and to go straight back into her mother. A good friend of mine who had stayed for the party where the others had done the drop and run.
Said child was promptly removed from the party without fanfare.
I’m gobsmacked. There had been no warning, no provocation, nothing. It had been a lighthearted call to organise some very excited little girls into a party game after they had let off some physical steam outside.
And now I have a dilemma. While I feel sorry for the little girl in question-she has had a tentative diagnosis of ODD and ADHD- I have reached the end of my tether with her. Over the six years we have known her she has been physically, emotionally and mentally aggressive to miss A and was for a long time one of the key triggers for anxious and shy behaviour from my biggest girl.
For years I have done my best to be accomodating, on one hand trying to reassurre my own daughter while all the while taking into account her little friend’s need for patience and understanding. So many other parents and friends have abandoned or at best avoided her.
My friend is taking her daughter back to her specialist ASAP as the aggressive behaviour is becoming more randomly directed and increasing in frequency. It is clear that she needs help.
However for me it is time for me to draw the line. Unacceptable behaviour is exactly that, and all other issues aside she most certainly knows that lashing out is not appropriate. After six years I can’t take it any more. And my children need to see that I will protect them, that I won’t tolerate what I would never accept from them.
I have made a tough decision. This child is no longer welcome in my house for a good while and I will have to actually say this to her mother rather than stage the wordless retreat. I need space, my kids need space, we all need some respite from the volatility while professional help is sought.
So why do I feel so bad about it?
Topics: Ouch, what to do? | 2 Comments »
Reality bites
By hissychick | February 21, 2011
Today I dropped off the children at daycare and OOSH at a time early enough for them to have breakfast there. Next week when I return to work it will be even earlier.
I will be that parent dropping her year one child off before seven am and then waiting outside the daycare centre until 7 am ticks over. It will be a rapid goodbye so that I can make the 7:20 am train to the city in an attempt to be at my desk by 9 am.
I will not see my children until 6 pm that evening. Rinse and repeat the following day.
I could cry. In fact, I haven’t stopped.
Yes it is my choice. A choice to ensure my own financial independence- of utmost importance to me- to contribute much needed finances to our household income (not so much choice as necessity) and to continue in a highly skilled career that I have worked hard to attain. To exercise my brain, and be known as hissychick in addition to Mummy.
Yet the costs are mounting. I despair of leaving miss I at such a tender young age when she is very much attached to me. I am beyond furious at the Family Assistance Office who keep screwing me over and ensuring that any financial gain is so paltry it is almost farcical. The commute is enormous, a hefty price to pay for a profession that does not lend itself to working locally.
Moving is not an option because our children are so happy here- so many friends, a genuine community and space- and a house the equivalent of which we could never afford closer to the CBD.
The temptation is there to scrutinise our budget, to make sacrifices so that I can stay at home. Or to find a school hours friendly job like night fill or the like.
But why should I have to resort to that? What was the point of education and career building if the best I can hope for is stacking freaking boxes in a local supermarket? If my days are to be filled only with household tasks? Where if anything were to happen to the husband (not death or divorce- he’s not allowed those options- rather health wise or if he needed time to step away and reevaluate his own career, to reduce hours to spend more time with us) I could no longer step up and be able to provide an income we could all live comfortably on? What kind of message would I be sending my own daughters?
Sigh. Time to be an adult I guess and do what needs to be done.
Still I can’t help but be a bit annoyed when my own job could be readily done at home with the occasional meeting thrown in. And with a new childcare centre due to open across the road at the school in just over twelve months I could get an awful lot done without four hours of commuting per day thrown on top.
I am woman hear me roar. With frustration that mostly lip service rather than common sense is applied to the so called work/family balancing act.
(Sorry about the poor grammar and wording. Cranky clouds the brain and I need to get on with the next task from my to do list rather than edit).
Topics: Rage against the machine, hissyfit, moody blues | 5 Comments »
Because Lucy made me do it
By hissychick | February 15, 2011
All kidlets are at school and daycare so you think I would be relishing and maximising this rare bit of personal freedom before my return to work on the 28th right?
Right?
And yet here I sit, somewhat despondent, largely apathetic and unsure what to do. Wasting a precious hour or two on Fa(r)cebook and forums (albeit a very interesting, eloquently discussed and thoroughly validated by the relevant data argument for vaccination which should at least be stickied….hell it should be stamped onto the forehead of every selfish moron who chooses not to vaccinate without compelling and professionally verified medical reason).
Sigh.
Now that I have fired up the old blog again I am wondering just what purpose and direction it will take. Of course I want to post about the kidlets but I also want this little corner of cyberspace to be a little more than that.
I don’t want it to always be a dumping ground for the latest hormone induced mood swing. I’m a fan of some self reflection but I find too much naval gazing to be self indulgent. Feelings are feelings. Ephemeral and highly changeable. Most of the time I rather let the unpleasant ones wash over me and fade away. As for the poignant and tender moments of sheer joy, I’m aiming to be fully present rather than worrying about how to document them.
Still.
Let me have a think about it. Or not.
Perhaps it simply boils down to no posting under the influence of PMS unless it is a piss funny story?!
Until the next round of verbal diarrhoea
PS I’ve joined the gym. Guess that means I will have to go….
Topics: Going bogue, a bit of fluff | 1 Comment »