Another one bites the dust…

Apparently I’m in a bad mood… and it’s been going for a while now… but it’s not me…

Uh… no… this IS me. This is who I am. Not always happy. Not always telling you what you want to hear. Not always telling you how amazing you are. Not always building you up and giving you endless energy. Sometimes… I’m moody and fed up and irritated with the world. Sometimes I need energy back. Sometimes my cup is empty. 

So maybe… give a little. Tell me I’m wonderful. Show me you love. Put yourself out occasionally and actually hear the words between the lines…

Reminiscing

2am… still working… kind of… sometimes, I think there’s an element of me that seriously self destructs… 

Checking my news feed… something horrible about someone in Adelaide on a bus.. or a tram… and I’m transported… 

City of churches… one on every corner. 

A rail line cutting through the red dust. 

Laughing. 

Relaxed. 

I don’t remember the specifics. Not the way you do. I remember the feelings. 

It’s the only real trip I’ve taken there. I remember the lack of waves. The warmth. The dodgy motel. The dodgy motel owner. 

I have a sense of the smell of the place. Something crisp but warm. 

And the flatness. 

What I should have been feeling was stress and remorse and guilt… I was meant to be heading to Sydney to see my dad in hospital. 

But I was easily waylaid…

I should go back. Road trip through the red earth. That L shape of memories. Take the kids to see a piece of my past. 

Because it strikes me… that my memories of those places are completely entwined with you… unlike yours which span a longer time and a lot more people…

I need to build new memories to snatch my breath at 2am. 

Take 5…

So… I’ve hit that point when the task is too onerous so it’s easier to just do nothing…

Except write a post about my chicks… who well and truly dominate my life and thoughts of late… No rest for the wicked? No life of my own? Something…

A rant to clear the mess in my head so I can focus on work once more…

Baby Wizard asked for a bin for his room this afternoon.. and then, for the first time in his 8 and a half years on this planet, he cleaned his room, filling his bin… and then went round the house until it was completely full and he could empty it into the big bin. If I’d realised this is all it would take, I’d have given him half a dozen bins years ago…

Baby Dragon is not happy. She is 10 and has hit the wonderfully moody, hormonal stage of life. That last spike before puberty comes along. Soooo much fun… Her drama, other than extreme moods, is that wonderfully bitchy world that 10 year olds seem to inhabit… She’s not happy that I had a few truths to impart about sitting around with a friend, bitching about another friend who isn’t present… I’m such a loving and understanding mum, that I also asked if she was crying because she was sad she was mean to her friend, or if it was because she was in trouble…. Definitely a winning mum moment there :/

Teen Princess is off to Byron for schoolies tomorrow and I can’t even let my brain go there and stress… They’re driving… Five teens in a car – I think three can drive… A loooonnnnggggg trip. :/

Teen Knight… oh… where to start… I don’t have the skills. Or the crystal ball. I want someone to wave a wand… Sudden flurry of movement in the house this afternoon and lots of whispers and vibes… What’s going on?… It seems that when my darling boys had been out and about yesterday afternoon, some rough play became very rough… Sigh… Parents here are so calm and reasonable. So quiet and sweet. I’m not cut from that cloth. Master Knight takes the stance – that one where the shoulders are back and he’s on his toes, chin high… My eyes narrow as I realise what he is doing… The other parent is calm… understanding that things get a little out of hand sometimes but ‘we don’t like bullies’… Part of my inner mumma bear surfaces at the passive aggressive crap spewing from her mouth – I have zero patience for people who need to do the whole holier than thou act… But I rein this in as it’s not the issue. The issue is that my 15 year old took his 8 year old brother out to the common area and proceeded to take things too far with a group of 11-12 year old boys. The passive aggressive mother left with a sweet smile and the calm assurance that she’s lived here for 11 years and there’s never been a bully before and they won’t allow one now… My rational brain struggles at this moment – trying not to look at her as if she has grown a second head… WTF? A. What does it matter how long you’ve lived here? B. You’re not Queen. C. If you’re freaking annoyed, say so. D. Don’t walk into my back yard uninvited and start talking to my sons without speaking to me. E… Shall I continue? But again, this is not the issue… this is just that part of me that struggles with passive aggressive, manipulative, control freaks… and that is not relevant at this moment. What is relevant is the 15 year old who is still holding his stance and saying – yep. yep. yep at this woman… and I watch as yet another adult think he has heard them, think he has understood their reasoning… Or is it simply that they see the obvious and run? She leaves… I turn on him. His stance changes. I am furious. I rant. He doesn’t listen. He’s intent on saying his own piece and I am not yet ready to hear it. I rant some more. And some more. He says something in his own defense. I rant more. There is no defense. They are kids. You are picking a fight. And finally… I pull out that line I reserve for very special occasions… I just can’t believe you’d do this, I’m so incredibly disappointed… and there it is. Said…. And he rejoins with – you’re not as disappointed in me as I am…

I can’t do this parenting gig. I can’t get it right. I have no idea what to say.

We calm. We talk. He tells me he just wants to fight someone. He wants to hit someone and make them hurt. That anger has never actually abated… still simmering… still trapped as he tries to control it…

And in the midst of everything… the phones and devices ping and ring as his father tries to call… And there it is. Or so much of it. His father is angry because he won’t answer the phone. It’s the most bizarre thing. His father told him he went to the Knight’s best friend’s house Friday for a handyman job. The Knight said – they would have told me if you did. And from that… all hell has broken loose.

I’ve forgotten how fragile this child is. How much this child is trying to hold the world together… His father sends me ridiculous texts throughout the week and I ignore them. He rings and I tell him to go away. If he rings persistently, I answer and leave it on speaker, only partially listening to whatever rubbish he needs to spew this time. But mostly, I just ignore him these days. I’ve learned to call his bluff. I’ve learned to ignore him.

But this child hasn’t worked that out yet. He’s still not strong enough.

So when his father texts me: you know he’s drinking all your alcohol – he’s drinking it right now!… I simply look at my son and think – umm, no he’s not… But my child isn’t able to do this… and his father knows it… so he texts him constantly telling him that he’s an alcoholic and he’s having withdrawal… And I have to wonder – woah, the child has only been here just over a week, how can he be an addict unless you were aware he was drinking all your alcohol at your place??? He texts him more abuse – constant and frequent… swearing, name calling, threats… The child has a new phone number so the father can’t ring him – he’s not aware he has one – but he calls the other kids, calls me, texts through social media… threats and abuse… constant…

So I don’t know how to parent… but in the scheme of things, I’m doing better than the sperm donor…

Apparently, their father tells them frequently that I am angry and bitter and jealous that he is doing so well because he is about to buy a third house… He can’t understand that I am more saddened that he will buy more and more and more… but he won’t spend that on his children. I’ve just signed paperwork I organised to allow him to only pay a pittance for the next three years – my final move in the bid to get my child back without the backlash the child isn’t strong enough to withstand… So he gave me the child with one hand as he took the paperwork in the other… and now he’s realised he’s lost any control…

The Knight tells me he is making a bid for the Dragon, but I won’t allow any of them to go again. I will fight tooth and nail this time. I won’t let another suffer. I am stronger now.

But the Knight tells me: mum, he thinks you are bitter and jealous that he is more successful and has more stuff…. but I haven’t told him mum… I haven’t said to him – dad, look around you… where are the kids?

 

A moat…

luk

This will be the Baby Wizard’s future house… not this one actually, because it’s in Denmark or Sweden or somewhere… but somewhere huge… with a moat. The moat is to keep people out. There won’t be a bridge – just a helicopter to fly food in. The moat will be filled with crocodiles… of course. He thought about a bridge…. one which could disappear quickly when he pressed the button… so if I tried to sneak in, he’d press the button and I’d be eaten by crocodiles…

Early morning snuggles… at 8, he still has that deep, contagious belly laugh…

Me: You should make me coffee.

BW: I don’t know how.

Me: I’ll teach you!

BW: …

Me: I’ll teach you and you can make me a coffee every morning for the rest of my life 🙂

BW: But how can I do that when I’m a grown up and I’ll live in my own house?

Me: You’ll just have to get out of bed and visit me and make coffee every morning.

BW: But where will you live?

Me: Hmm… not sure… maybe Italy! You?

BW: Australia…

BW: So I can’t make you coffee.

Me: I’ll just live with you then…

BW: I won’t let you. I’ll throw you outside and you’ll have to sleep on the street.

Me: Seriously? I just want a coffee…

BW: You’ll have to make your own then… and can I have vegemite on my toast??

Sigh…

 

Gen…

Do I say it… do I be the parent who finally admits this current generation… sucks? 


Meh… unfortunately a GoT meme… but sooo appropriate. 

The teen Princess hates working. She’s s checkout chick. For Woolworths. She worked 4 whole hours today. Four! Standing at a register. But… you get a 15 minute break when you work four hours these days! When did that happen?!? And… she gets paid for every single minute that she works! Like… she starts at 7 and works til 11… and she’s actually paid for 4 hours! But.. she doesn’t want to work. 

The teen Knight was offered 2 hours helping a tennis coach today. Paid. To pick up tennis balls. Lock the gates. For 2 hours. He said no. He doesn’t want to work. 

The baby Dragon is only 10. She objects to taking the rubbish out. Rolling eyes. Hmphs under the breath. Tears in the eyes. I don’t think she wants to work either. 

Baby Wizard simply refuses. He’s got it sorted. 8 years old must be a new generation. Or perhaps he’s simply ahead of his time. Because he doesn’t argue. He doesn’t whinge. He just doesn’t do it. 

Apparently I’m an idiot because I CHOOSE to work. So I can’t whinge. But they shouldn’t have to. Because… well… they don’t WANT to. 

Words Part 2…

So… he told me to lull myself…

The next morning, I was telling a friend the story of being very pregnant and losing control of my car. It seems my tyres were bald and I had no idea. My husband knew. They were beyond bald. The tread was completely gone in large sections. The 4wd I was driving around with our three kids plus fourth brewing…

Anyway…

A young guy lost his life locally when his car hit a tree, at about the time my teen was telling me to kill myself. 

These were the tales I was telling to a friend yesterday before I dragged myself from bed to face the day. 

Drove the kids to school. Steering felt heavy. Dropped them off. Waited forever for a break in the traffic and finally took a gamble. My car doesn’t have the torque I’d like, but I know it. Four lanes of cars bearing down on me, knew it wasn’t ideal, knew the car would be fine… 

Except…

The tyres spun out… twice… as I crossed. 

That moment when time stands still and everything flashes slowly before your eyes. The four lanes of traffic. My son’s words. The fatal accident the night before. The sound of my tyres spinning on nothing. 

But I made it. Heart racing. Drive home, thinking about tyres. The tyres are less than a year old. They can’t be bald…

But…

They can be flat :/

A job for coffee. A mathematical equation waiting to happen. 


A neighbour appears. I love my neighbours. 

We are sad though… we know the tyre is under the car… but how do you get it out?!? 

Reach for the manual…


Score! A phone call… half an hour later…


But hey… he changed it! 

Sent these snaps to the teen… if I’d died… I’d it wrong to guilt them? To make him realise that his final words to me could have been: kys… and then I did. 

It’s a spade…

Let’s call it what it is. Sometimes, it’s just hard. Hard. Hard. 

I take his Xbox controller and he tells me to kill myself. Threatens all sorts of dire things. I disconnect the internet and he accesses the router and turns it back on. I change the password, he hacks passed that. 

Last night, we have a reasonable discussion. It’s midnight. I don’t care if you’re on the iPod and lights are out, but the Xbox and tv are off. 

Suddenly, he needs dinner. It’s midnight. 

At 5:30am I come down to let the cat out and he moves… asleep? I check FB… on 1 minute ago…

Sigh…

Getting kids organised. We’re loud. It’s morning. Friday. Summer is almost here. Going to be a hot one. Have you seen this on YouTube? Heard this song? Did you know? Would you rather? Can I have your toast? Do you have your swimming gear? Park this afternoon? Can we have a lunch order?

It’s morning. Friday. Almost summer. 

He can’t handle it. He roars. Swears. Threatens. 

Ummm… you’re the one who went to sleep at 5:30 this morning… 

you’re the one who’s trying to make me angry!!!!

Ummm… no… we’re just going about our everyday stuff… we don’t do anger… we don’t do rage… if we stay up til 5:30, we don’t blame others when we’re tired…

School can’t start soon enough :/