So I made it to San Francisco to do a Writing Workshop at Berkeley for the next week! Very excited (as you can imagine).
Last time I was here (just last month actually), I had my boys with me and as we were flying from Sydney to San Francisco. Two hours before the end of the trip, I felt nauseous, looked for the sick bag in the seat pocket, couldn't find one, so made the bold dash down the aisle to the bathroom. Last thing I remember is my head on the floor and I was in dreamy la-las... I recognised that I wasn't 'supposed' to be flat on the floor of the 747 plane, so I quickly got myself up not wanting to panic anyone. But the purser insisted that I stay at least seated for a little while to make sure I was OK. But stubborn me said that I'm fine, and that I need to get back to my boys, only to get up and faint right back down again.
The airline crew called for a doctor on board, and Marty from Philadelphia came to my rescue. The purser asked for his qualifications, and he said that his wife is an ER doctor and he has been on many a road with his wife and helped out at a car accident over the past thirty years, so he felt he was qualified to give me a 'once over.' He checked my pulse, my eyesight, my reflexes, checked to see if anything was hurt. He was funny, because you could see him thinking what his wife would be doing and if she would approve. He knew that he had to keep me awake as not to 'faint' again, so he told me his life story.
Marty happened to be a Cyber Security Professor out at a college in Phily, so his work was 'top secret.' He was more interested in telling me about his wife and how wonderful she was. I'm glad he's happy.
Eventually the captain came up to see if I was OK before putting me on a daggy airplane wheelchair and wheeled me up to first class for about an hour to land. Why didn't I do this earlier in the flight? The boys loved having their fifteen minutes of luxury, before we were trolleyed off into an ambulance to be checked over, properly this time!
I went to the local hospital and had my blood checked, blood pressure, reflexes, most things that Marty did, and would have been impressed if he was standing along side me. My blood pressure was dangerously low, but all my vital signs were well - checked for anaemia and diabetes. My fainting was attributed to lack of sleep, dehydration and my dangerously low blood pressure. Three hours later, I was given the all clear to fly onto my next port, even though I still felt light headed and uneasy about continuing my travels.
With this current trip, I have been lucky to have had six hours sleep in the past 72 hours. I tried to sleep, but kept getting interrupted and my workload was overwhelming (hence the lack of blogs over the past few days), but I am here now ready to fall asleep at any minute, but worried if I go to bed too early, I might wake up too early in Pacific time. Usually I can sleep on a plane, but this time with a screaming kid in the foreground and me conscious about what happened last time, sleep just didn't happen.
Luckily this time, I can't blame my kids, it's all self-inflicted and will be better after tonight... good night!
Saturday, 30 July 2011
Tuesday, 26 July 2011
Something that scares all mothers...
I have a creative gene in my body, as we all know, and I believe I have one child who has inherited that side of me. I know we can't look through a crystal ball and see what his life will be like, or that of my other son, but they are starting to approach that age where puberty will hit, sex, drugs and alcohol will be on the menu, and as a single parent, you need to give them more freedom to be themselves without them taking their independence too far.
Amy Winehouse's death is one of many tragic stories of a creative person using illicit drugs and alcohol to 'enhance' their creativity. For me, I can proudly say I have never taken illicit drugs or smoked a joint. I drink alcohol rarely, but if I do, it is socially and I know when to stop. I smoked my first cigarette at ten years old, the age my oldest son is now, and didn't have another after I was thirteen. I don't drink caffeine, but I do love chocolate! I am naturally high on life because there is so much positive in this world, like my kids, my writing career, my travels and the natural beauty that surrounds us. And of course, there are the most beautiful people, like all of you who read my blog, to share my experiences and if I haven't already, hopefully one day, I will hear yours.
Even though I am a proud in how I live my life, I accept that there are hardships in this world and that some people just need an 'upper' or a 'downer' to keep them going. It's when people can't recognise themselves without their 'upper' or their 'downer' is where the trouble starts... At around October last year, I started taking a cocktail of vitamins to get through my busy work schedule. It wasn't much - Vitamin D, fish oil and a daily Berocca (sometimes a double dose) (for those who don't know, a Berocca is a fizzy Vitamin B supplement jam packed with other vitamins to boost your energy levels). The more I took them, the more upset I was getting about small things. I was going through a highly emotional time that involved my ex, my parents, my lover and a huge amount of uncertainty. I needed help and no one was there for me the way that I needed to be helped. I was reading into things that really weren't there and blowing them completely out of proportion.
I kept taking the vitamins regularly until the end of April when I recognised that this was not me. I thought back to the time when I was at my happiest and realised that it was prior to my doctors appointment when she suggested I needed to take these. Is there something wrong with that picture? So I stopped taking them. And I started to make positive decisions again for myself and had the courage to do so. I wrote my entire manuscript for my book within six weeks. My infectious energy started to become embraced by others again, I didn't have sad stories to tell anymore because I knew that there is more to life than wallowing. But I was able to recognise that within myself. And for goodness sake, these were vitamins... But sadly, for people like Amy Winehouse, who's addiction is at a far greater level, she couldn't.
Russell Brand wrote a compelling blog about how he didn't recognise himself anymore and how he took the steps into rehab to bring him back to life. He noted how hard it is for family and friends to watch their loved one succumb to their addiction and not be able to do anything for them, except wait for the phone call. http://www.russellbrand.tv/2011/07/for-amy/
For parents who are going through the terrible teens or are awaiting their children to reach that age, it is a nerve racking time of the unknown. All we can do is educate our children to accept that they need to know what's right and wrong, make them understand that even though something feels good it doesn't mean it's right, and that moderation is the key - it's OK to try something, but don't let it take hold of you. And as parents, we need to recognise the signs when our children fall down into a hole that isn't purely puberty. You feel for Amy's parents, watching their daughter over the years become a shadow of her former self. If her story opens the eyes to at least one addict, and makes he or she turn to family or friends for help, then her life still lives on in hope and memory.
Amy Winehouse's death is one of many tragic stories of a creative person using illicit drugs and alcohol to 'enhance' their creativity. For me, I can proudly say I have never taken illicit drugs or smoked a joint. I drink alcohol rarely, but if I do, it is socially and I know when to stop. I smoked my first cigarette at ten years old, the age my oldest son is now, and didn't have another after I was thirteen. I don't drink caffeine, but I do love chocolate! I am naturally high on life because there is so much positive in this world, like my kids, my writing career, my travels and the natural beauty that surrounds us. And of course, there are the most beautiful people, like all of you who read my blog, to share my experiences and if I haven't already, hopefully one day, I will hear yours.
Even though I am a proud in how I live my life, I accept that there are hardships in this world and that some people just need an 'upper' or a 'downer' to keep them going. It's when people can't recognise themselves without their 'upper' or their 'downer' is where the trouble starts... At around October last year, I started taking a cocktail of vitamins to get through my busy work schedule. It wasn't much - Vitamin D, fish oil and a daily Berocca (sometimes a double dose) (for those who don't know, a Berocca is a fizzy Vitamin B supplement jam packed with other vitamins to boost your energy levels). The more I took them, the more upset I was getting about small things. I was going through a highly emotional time that involved my ex, my parents, my lover and a huge amount of uncertainty. I needed help and no one was there for me the way that I needed to be helped. I was reading into things that really weren't there and blowing them completely out of proportion.
I kept taking the vitamins regularly until the end of April when I recognised that this was not me. I thought back to the time when I was at my happiest and realised that it was prior to my doctors appointment when she suggested I needed to take these. Is there something wrong with that picture? So I stopped taking them. And I started to make positive decisions again for myself and had the courage to do so. I wrote my entire manuscript for my book within six weeks. My infectious energy started to become embraced by others again, I didn't have sad stories to tell anymore because I knew that there is more to life than wallowing. But I was able to recognise that within myself. And for goodness sake, these were vitamins... But sadly, for people like Amy Winehouse, who's addiction is at a far greater level, she couldn't.
Russell Brand wrote a compelling blog about how he didn't recognise himself anymore and how he took the steps into rehab to bring him back to life. He noted how hard it is for family and friends to watch their loved one succumb to their addiction and not be able to do anything for them, except wait for the phone call. http://www.russellbrand.tv/2011/07/for-amy/
For parents who are going through the terrible teens or are awaiting their children to reach that age, it is a nerve racking time of the unknown. All we can do is educate our children to accept that they need to know what's right and wrong, make them understand that even though something feels good it doesn't mean it's right, and that moderation is the key - it's OK to try something, but don't let it take hold of you. And as parents, we need to recognise the signs when our children fall down into a hole that isn't purely puberty. You feel for Amy's parents, watching their daughter over the years become a shadow of her former self. If her story opens the eyes to at least one addict, and makes he or she turn to family or friends for help, then her life still lives on in hope and memory.
Sunday, 24 July 2011
The Art of Love Letters
Is it a dead art form? Or is the art of writing sweet nothings to your loved one still alive?
I guess in this technical age, the art of love letters has transformed from the scented paper travelling miles and days to your loved one via the post to a more instant hit of gratification via email, text message and chat, but the way those permanent words written by your loved one make you feel, doesn't change if its on parchment or pasted on a screen.
However, the art of writing has changed. As we are so time poor, messages are written in text slang, some struggle with getting their true feelings out into words, and the actual thought into finding meaningful words isn't there. Words are misunderstood, phrases are misused and ambiguity makes the reader uncertain of the writer's intention.... unless, your lover has the same passion for words as you and challenges the dictionary with new and innovative ways to say 'I love you' that just makes your... heart... melt....
If you both have a passion for words, that engaging banter will never die because you are always looking for new ways of livening up your conversations with inventive syntax. The written word with true soul and heartfelt meaning can make you laugh, it can give you tears of happiness and it can give you tears of sorrow that you are apart. The written word can calm you into the most peaceful calm when you're at the height of a harrowing day when received from your lover. It's healing, it's mesmerising, it's ethereal. And no one can take those words away from you, because they are a moment in time that your lover was thinking of you wanting to spend time with you.
To bring the joy back into a relationship, you could start writing little love letters and place them in unexpected places - their briefcase, on the dash of their car, in their sports bag, in lipstick on the bathroom mirror while they are having a shower... somewhere where you know your lover will get a kick that you have done something to make their day. But the giving of love letters can only work if reciprocated with the same heartfelt zest and innovation in the writing to keep the spark alive.
Love is not dead, and writing love letters is definitely alive for those who know and love to indulge in the art of romance.
I guess in this technical age, the art of love letters has transformed from the scented paper travelling miles and days to your loved one via the post to a more instant hit of gratification via email, text message and chat, but the way those permanent words written by your loved one make you feel, doesn't change if its on parchment or pasted on a screen.
However, the art of writing has changed. As we are so time poor, messages are written in text slang, some struggle with getting their true feelings out into words, and the actual thought into finding meaningful words isn't there. Words are misunderstood, phrases are misused and ambiguity makes the reader uncertain of the writer's intention.... unless, your lover has the same passion for words as you and challenges the dictionary with new and innovative ways to say 'I love you' that just makes your... heart... melt....
If you both have a passion for words, that engaging banter will never die because you are always looking for new ways of livening up your conversations with inventive syntax. The written word with true soul and heartfelt meaning can make you laugh, it can give you tears of happiness and it can give you tears of sorrow that you are apart. The written word can calm you into the most peaceful calm when you're at the height of a harrowing day when received from your lover. It's healing, it's mesmerising, it's ethereal. And no one can take those words away from you, because they are a moment in time that your lover was thinking of you wanting to spend time with you.
To bring the joy back into a relationship, you could start writing little love letters and place them in unexpected places - their briefcase, on the dash of their car, in their sports bag, in lipstick on the bathroom mirror while they are having a shower... somewhere where you know your lover will get a kick that you have done something to make their day. But the giving of love letters can only work if reciprocated with the same heartfelt zest and innovation in the writing to keep the spark alive.
Love is not dead, and writing love letters is definitely alive for those who know and love to indulge in the art of romance.
Saturday, 23 July 2011
A little bit of retail therapy!
I've never been a shopper... When you're almost 100 kilos, can fit three hands around one boob, your foot is bigger than a man's with a high arch and nice shoes are impossible to find, and your self confidence is at a right royal low because the person who's supposed to love you criticises everything that you do and wear, shopping for yourself can give you a kick to the ego that breaks every one of your teeth in the process. So, as you guessed, shopping and me were never friends.
But getting rid of one husband, losing about 22 kilos (some say I lost 22 kilos plus the 80 kilos the ex weighed) and giving myself some pep in my step, I'm now half way to becoming best mates with shopping for the first time in my life.
I've stopped buying clothes in the plus size shops and started looking in the 'groovy young thing shops' like Sportsgirl and Portmans (sorry for those who don't know, they're iconic Australian brands) and today I bought my first pair of heels in possibly fifteen years - heels that I actually feel comfortable in wearing without worrying about twisting my ankle. Still feel like I clomp around in them, but with a little practice, I might be gliding before the end of the week.
To add to the tasteful heels number, I bought myself some lace thigh-high 'stay-up' stockings to add some sizzle to my style perfectly suited to wear with a black dress or skirt, so I'm all set to hit the town with a smile on my face and renewed confidence.
So for the purpose of taking on fashion, I'm off to a school function tonight to test out my 'heel-i-ness'... I may need a foot rub at the end of it all, but really, to be able to be a 'slave to fashion' for the first time since motherhood was bestowed on me 10 years & 9 months ago (well, that's when pregnancy was determined!), it's not a bad feeling to have, is it?
But getting rid of one husband, losing about 22 kilos (some say I lost 22 kilos plus the 80 kilos the ex weighed) and giving myself some pep in my step, I'm now half way to becoming best mates with shopping for the first time in my life.
I've stopped buying clothes in the plus size shops and started looking in the 'groovy young thing shops' like Sportsgirl and Portmans (sorry for those who don't know, they're iconic Australian brands) and today I bought my first pair of heels in possibly fifteen years - heels that I actually feel comfortable in wearing without worrying about twisting my ankle. Still feel like I clomp around in them, but with a little practice, I might be gliding before the end of the week.
To add to the tasteful heels number, I bought myself some lace thigh-high 'stay-up' stockings to add some sizzle to my style perfectly suited to wear with a black dress or skirt, so I'm all set to hit the town with a smile on my face and renewed confidence.
So for the purpose of taking on fashion, I'm off to a school function tonight to test out my 'heel-i-ness'... I may need a foot rub at the end of it all, but really, to be able to be a 'slave to fashion' for the first time since motherhood was bestowed on me 10 years & 9 months ago (well, that's when pregnancy was determined!), it's not a bad feeling to have, is it?
Friday, 22 July 2011
Thank God It's Friday!
It's the end of the week, a big week in my camp of uncertainty, enjoyment and really feeling the love...
Uncertainty came with an optometry appointment for my youngest son who has recently been diagnosed with a learning disability and finding out the results and training required there. My day job has been slower than normal, so there is always concern there. And today I had my first hearing opposite my ex to finalise our matters... as the deep bottom of your stomach feeling was, there was no resolution and possibly thousands of dollars down the drain.
Enjoyment came with the fact that school holidays had finished and I had my space back again. The quiet in the house, the freedom to walk to school to pick up and drop the boys off, catching up with school mums I now call friends and catching up with non-school mum friends with proper adult banter - banter that makes you laugh out loud. I even loved the fact that I caught the train today to the city, and the freedom of walking around, not having to worry about where the car was parked, that you're alone to be yourself, is truly liberating and reminded me of my school and university days. Where did the simplicity of those days go? Where you didn't have to worry about car repayments, house repayments, the utilities were minimal and life was so much less complicated... really where did they go?
As for feeling the love, I'm feeling it from all sides now (except from the ex!). Family, friends, my kids, my lover, more so than I ever have... I guess now, maybe I'm letting them in more than I ever had because I've always been guarded due to the disdain most had for my ex, something that I would protect because he was my life, and most of us would protect the situation that we had put ourselves in. But I don't need to protect that side of my life anymore, and that freedom rubs off on all those who are important to me, so the love is completing the circle.
So as for it being Friday, we've just come back from a slaughtering at basketball of 0-25 and a trip to the Pancake Parlour to commiserate, before getting ready to jump in a green-tea bath-salted bath to wind away the stresses. As for the weekend, soccer for child number 2, hockey for child number one, a call to the babysitter for tomorrow night and a lazy Sunday morning catch up with friends while the boys are taken away by their aunt for their birthdays to a surprise destination. (And there might be some afternoon naps watching some B-grade movies) :)
Uncertainty came with an optometry appointment for my youngest son who has recently been diagnosed with a learning disability and finding out the results and training required there. My day job has been slower than normal, so there is always concern there. And today I had my first hearing opposite my ex to finalise our matters... as the deep bottom of your stomach feeling was, there was no resolution and possibly thousands of dollars down the drain.
Enjoyment came with the fact that school holidays had finished and I had my space back again. The quiet in the house, the freedom to walk to school to pick up and drop the boys off, catching up with school mums I now call friends and catching up with non-school mum friends with proper adult banter - banter that makes you laugh out loud. I even loved the fact that I caught the train today to the city, and the freedom of walking around, not having to worry about where the car was parked, that you're alone to be yourself, is truly liberating and reminded me of my school and university days. Where did the simplicity of those days go? Where you didn't have to worry about car repayments, house repayments, the utilities were minimal and life was so much less complicated... really where did they go?
As for feeling the love, I'm feeling it from all sides now (except from the ex!). Family, friends, my kids, my lover, more so than I ever have... I guess now, maybe I'm letting them in more than I ever had because I've always been guarded due to the disdain most had for my ex, something that I would protect because he was my life, and most of us would protect the situation that we had put ourselves in. But I don't need to protect that side of my life anymore, and that freedom rubs off on all those who are important to me, so the love is completing the circle.
So as for it being Friday, we've just come back from a slaughtering at basketball of 0-25 and a trip to the Pancake Parlour to commiserate, before getting ready to jump in a green-tea bath-salted bath to wind away the stresses. As for the weekend, soccer for child number 2, hockey for child number one, a call to the babysitter for tomorrow night and a lazy Sunday morning catch up with friends while the boys are taken away by their aunt for their birthdays to a surprise destination. (And there might be some afternoon naps watching some B-grade movies) :)
Wednesday, 20 July 2011
Late night friends...
The beauty of being a single parent is that your adult social life can very well begin and end when your children are asleep. Our day time social life generally revolves around the children's activities - school drop off, after school sports, a play at the park, etc. But our adult life comes out after dark... and we don't even have to leave home!
We don't feel so isolated anymore due to the various ways we can communicate thanks to the mobile phone, the internet, internet dating, Skype and the various social media that offer 'chat.' We can have friends abroad, next door, over the street, in another state, wherever they maybe, and we can generally now communicate endlessly for free with them. Friends can see when you're available on Facebook or Skype if both of you are struggling to sleep into the wee hours. You feel safe knowing that someone you can depend on is just a click away...
I think there was a stigma when social media came out that people would become less social, be less able to deal with face to face communication and become hermits within their own space. But from my experience, communication is becoming more open. Let's talk about video chatting... People are less afraid of saying what they really feel because you can quickly end a conversation by hanging up, you can confront someone face to face through video chat without worrying about getting physically abused. People are actually talking, because they are actually being engaged by the person they are talking to - they see that their facial expressions are genuine, they see the hand gestures and they can see that they are not being distracted by outside influences... they are making the effort to listen.
Written chat maintains the same concentration level as you need to decipher what was written first to which response and respond quickly. You can have two conversations at once - the one your friend wants to get out, and the one you want to get out, and somehow each of you know which part of the conversation refers to theirs or yours. I've had some amazing conversations through chat with long lost friends where we have just picked up in our casual banter from twenty years ago and become life long friends again...
And then there is the old fashioned phone... the one mum tends to pick up and say hello on for an hour at a time. The beauty of all these conversations is that you have the space, time and silence to actually enjoy the conversations without being distracted by little people wanting your attention. It's your time... your very precious time... to be YOU!!
We don't feel so isolated anymore due to the various ways we can communicate thanks to the mobile phone, the internet, internet dating, Skype and the various social media that offer 'chat.' We can have friends abroad, next door, over the street, in another state, wherever they maybe, and we can generally now communicate endlessly for free with them. Friends can see when you're available on Facebook or Skype if both of you are struggling to sleep into the wee hours. You feel safe knowing that someone you can depend on is just a click away...
I think there was a stigma when social media came out that people would become less social, be less able to deal with face to face communication and become hermits within their own space. But from my experience, communication is becoming more open. Let's talk about video chatting... People are less afraid of saying what they really feel because you can quickly end a conversation by hanging up, you can confront someone face to face through video chat without worrying about getting physically abused. People are actually talking, because they are actually being engaged by the person they are talking to - they see that their facial expressions are genuine, they see the hand gestures and they can see that they are not being distracted by outside influences... they are making the effort to listen.
Written chat maintains the same concentration level as you need to decipher what was written first to which response and respond quickly. You can have two conversations at once - the one your friend wants to get out, and the one you want to get out, and somehow each of you know which part of the conversation refers to theirs or yours. I've had some amazing conversations through chat with long lost friends where we have just picked up in our casual banter from twenty years ago and become life long friends again...
And then there is the old fashioned phone... the one mum tends to pick up and say hello on for an hour at a time. The beauty of all these conversations is that you have the space, time and silence to actually enjoy the conversations without being distracted by little people wanting your attention. It's your time... your very precious time... to be YOU!!
Tuesday, 19 July 2011
Feeling the love...
We fall in love for different reasons... and most have absolutely no practical reason. Most can't understand why we fall in love with one person when they believe someone else is more suitable, more practical, more eligible and more deserving of you. And the main reason why we actually fall in love, really fall in love, fall in love down to the inner soles of our boots, is that that person has truly touched our soul.
One thing we must believe in is that there is definitely more than one true love for all of us. And they can be found in absolutely every corner of the globe, but they are just as likely to be the boy next-door. What I've been told more recently than not, is that I glaze over people too quickly and I need to stop it, because every person have their own merits and I will never know when I will trip over that special someone. And I'm sure there are many of you who are guilty of the same, as our expectations are too high because we believe we need Mr Perfect. We must keep our eyes open to the possibilities that Mr Perfect could literally be anyone, even if there isn't the instant attraction.
My experience with love is that I've substituted the love and affection I should have been getting from my parents at a young impressionable age and given it to a boy, because they were prepared to give me the love, affection and attention that I wasn't receiving from them. I craved love from an early age, with my first 'true' love coming into my life at the age of thirteen and we connected on levels that I was too young to understand, but his love for me was what I felt love should feel like. He has always been close to my heart, and we have met up, platonically, a few times over the past 24 years, and it's only been recently that we found each other again and have rekindled our platonic friendship. That's what true love does... despite any hurdles, it always has a way of finding each other again.
The next person to give me the love and affection that I craved was my husband. He was overwhelming with it, sometimes too much, but I lapped it up because no one else important to me was showing me the love that I so dearly desired. It wasn't until I had my boys, that their love overtook the love he gave me, because I felt important to someone else, and their unconditional love is more empowering than any love a partner could give you. And this is where we became stuck - my love for my children made me defend my children every time he felt they had done something wrong. I was always on their side, explaining that they were too young to know the difference, that the punishment he had for them was too severe, that I had to protect them, nurture them, be there for them because they had no one else who they could depend on.
I now have a new love. He will never overtake the love I have for my children, as I will not take over the love he has for his children, but he is in a league of his own in so many ways. He has touched my soul like no other. He is my teacher, my inspiration, my motivator, my lover and my protector. He has the most beautiful caring soul, a forgiving heart, an intellect that is so profound and he knows how to make me laugh out loud. Oh, how he makes me laugh. Something my husband was never able to achieve. His smile constantly moves me, his loving nature is just awe-inspiring and his ability to surprise me at times when I'm feeling down or just want some reassurance is undeniably ethereal. We are connected by a force that is greater than ourselves, and I truly believe that there is no other way to be loved by another.
One thing we must believe in is that there is definitely more than one true love for all of us. And they can be found in absolutely every corner of the globe, but they are just as likely to be the boy next-door. What I've been told more recently than not, is that I glaze over people too quickly and I need to stop it, because every person have their own merits and I will never know when I will trip over that special someone. And I'm sure there are many of you who are guilty of the same, as our expectations are too high because we believe we need Mr Perfect. We must keep our eyes open to the possibilities that Mr Perfect could literally be anyone, even if there isn't the instant attraction.
My experience with love is that I've substituted the love and affection I should have been getting from my parents at a young impressionable age and given it to a boy, because they were prepared to give me the love, affection and attention that I wasn't receiving from them. I craved love from an early age, with my first 'true' love coming into my life at the age of thirteen and we connected on levels that I was too young to understand, but his love for me was what I felt love should feel like. He has always been close to my heart, and we have met up, platonically, a few times over the past 24 years, and it's only been recently that we found each other again and have rekindled our platonic friendship. That's what true love does... despite any hurdles, it always has a way of finding each other again.
The next person to give me the love and affection that I craved was my husband. He was overwhelming with it, sometimes too much, but I lapped it up because no one else important to me was showing me the love that I so dearly desired. It wasn't until I had my boys, that their love overtook the love he gave me, because I felt important to someone else, and their unconditional love is more empowering than any love a partner could give you. And this is where we became stuck - my love for my children made me defend my children every time he felt they had done something wrong. I was always on their side, explaining that they were too young to know the difference, that the punishment he had for them was too severe, that I had to protect them, nurture them, be there for them because they had no one else who they could depend on.
I now have a new love. He will never overtake the love I have for my children, as I will not take over the love he has for his children, but he is in a league of his own in so many ways. He has touched my soul like no other. He is my teacher, my inspiration, my motivator, my lover and my protector. He has the most beautiful caring soul, a forgiving heart, an intellect that is so profound and he knows how to make me laugh out loud. Oh, how he makes me laugh. Something my husband was never able to achieve. His smile constantly moves me, his loving nature is just awe-inspiring and his ability to surprise me at times when I'm feeling down or just want some reassurance is undeniably ethereal. We are connected by a force that is greater than ourselves, and I truly believe that there is no other way to be loved by another.
Sunday, 17 July 2011
Single or attached - the music is in our soul
Listening to the radio or your favourite CD has enormous powers within. Music can make you feel alive, renew your hope or add to a devastating new event, and for everyone, each song has a different meaning to that which its writer intended. We read into the lyric what we want to read into it, to suit our personal scenario to give us deeper thought and feelings into the events we go through.
Music is the reason for being as a teenager. It helps us identify with our hearts, our developing needs, our young adult restrictions, the peer pressure, our parents, our friendships and our place in this world. Music is possibly at its most powerful as a teenager, and throughout our lives, we will constantly reflect on which era was the best for music based on when we were teenagers as that's when we most identified with it.
But somewhere along the line, the music fades and it doesn't speak to us as profoundly as it once did. Other things take over our lives - responsibilities, newly found freedom, life long relationships (at the time they are), creating a new life, buying a house... all the things that tell you that you've grown up.
Something hits you in your thirties, and you question yourself again. You question the road you are travelling and wonder how to make it better... so instead of turning to God or some other high spiritual being, you find the answers in the music. You turn it up loud, because you're allowed to now, you recognise words in the lyric that speak to you again and you play air drums on the steering wheel to help the music enter your soul... You remember how the music made you feel alive, you remember how it bonded you with friends, you remember how in love you were with your favourite pop star. And you want it all back again, because for some reason, it makes you happy again. A happiness that takes you away from your responsibilities into a frame of mind that let's you be you.
You want to share this part of yourself with your children, you want to let them know that it's OK to sing at the top of your lungs in the car and tap your feet to the beat. You want to allow them to understand the passion behind the music, feel it in themselves. And they do... and it's a proud moment for you when they do, because you know in your heart that they will always have the music somewhere in their soul and you showed them the path to it, ensuring that they will always have a safe happy place inside themselves to call home. At home with the music.
Music is the reason for being as a teenager. It helps us identify with our hearts, our developing needs, our young adult restrictions, the peer pressure, our parents, our friendships and our place in this world. Music is possibly at its most powerful as a teenager, and throughout our lives, we will constantly reflect on which era was the best for music based on when we were teenagers as that's when we most identified with it.
But somewhere along the line, the music fades and it doesn't speak to us as profoundly as it once did. Other things take over our lives - responsibilities, newly found freedom, life long relationships (at the time they are), creating a new life, buying a house... all the things that tell you that you've grown up.
Something hits you in your thirties, and you question yourself again. You question the road you are travelling and wonder how to make it better... so instead of turning to God or some other high spiritual being, you find the answers in the music. You turn it up loud, because you're allowed to now, you recognise words in the lyric that speak to you again and you play air drums on the steering wheel to help the music enter your soul... You remember how the music made you feel alive, you remember how it bonded you with friends, you remember how in love you were with your favourite pop star. And you want it all back again, because for some reason, it makes you happy again. A happiness that takes you away from your responsibilities into a frame of mind that let's you be you.
You want to share this part of yourself with your children, you want to let them know that it's OK to sing at the top of your lungs in the car and tap your feet to the beat. You want to allow them to understand the passion behind the music, feel it in themselves. And they do... and it's a proud moment for you when they do, because you know in your heart that they will always have the music somewhere in their soul and you showed them the path to it, ensuring that they will always have a safe happy place inside themselves to call home. At home with the music.
Saturday, 16 July 2011
A 10 Year Old Sleep Over...
Meet new parent, crack open bottle of champagne, drink, get to know new parent, next parent arrives - she just wants water, boys running amok, parents leave as I finish bottle, boys watch DVD, order pizza, told it will take 45-50 minutes, boys get antsy at 50 minutes, make call to pizza shop at 1 hour 10 minutes, told should be 5-10 minutes more, pizza arrives at 8pm, vacuumed down the hatches, light candles on chocolate brownie cake, chocolate brownie cake vacuumed down, collect wood in rear laneway for chiminea, roast marshmallows in chiminea, run out of marshmallows for roasting, great fire going - no one interested, boys go inside for second DVD, a clean up and watch my own DVD in my room, boys want popcorn, I make popcorn, give them rules with popcorn - they make a mess, they sleep in it (no popcorn fights :) ) Third DVD starts, put timer on so that they go to sleep after 3rd DVD finishes and TV turns off automatically, ask them to clean teeth and put PJs on, boys comply. Noise coming from the gallows - little brother instigator, remove little brother from the party to sleep with me, little brother not happy but goes to sleep before the others. Still hear their TV at 1am... someone disabled TV turning off by itself... I put it on sleep for 30 minutes more... sleep time for four angels.
Wake up at 8am, make French Toast as one mother said she would pick up her son at 9am to go to church. It's 9.12am - she's still not here. Why? I could have slept in a little more...
Wake up at 8am, make French Toast as one mother said she would pick up her son at 9am to go to church. It's 9.12am - she's still not here. Why? I could have slept in a little more...
Friday, 15 July 2011
When Sex is a Dirty Word...
I'm going to speak as a parent today... Last night I watch an Oprah episode about a 16 year old boy Daniel, who was convicted of involuntary manslaughter for stabbing his molester 55 times.
It was a sad story about a 12 year old boy who saw a handsome dog in a park and asked the man if he could pat him. The man agreed and they started talking. The topic came about that the man needed some work done around the house that Daniel would be able to do - mow the lawns, run some errands, walk his dog etc. Daniel's parents were wary of this stranger, and from the dog's collar, they got his details and did some checks on him to see if he was a registered sex offender. Luckily, for the man, he wasn't. Somehow, the man befriended the parents as well, happy for him to see where he lived, invited them over for dinner and became a good family friend. As boys talk between each other, the man started asking Daniel how many different words he knew for penis. As the banter became more fun and accepting, the man asked Daniel to show him his penis, and from then on the man had his way with Daniel. He knew all the things that Daniel liked, so offered him those things if he would perform sexual favours for him. Daniel was scared to tell his parents, ashamed of what he allowed the man to do, and week by week, year by year, the acts were getting worse. Until one day, Daniel blew up, hit the man on the head with a pickle jar, then stabbed him 55 times.
Daniel called his parents to say that something terrible had happened at the man's house, so his father rushed over to see. He saw the blood, the knife, the man lying lifeless on the floor. Daniel explained that the man had been hurting him and he was relieved that it was now over. They decided to call the police and admit Daniel's guilt. The police confirmed that Daniel had been molested by finding child pornography on the man's computer and a physical examination. The parents felt robbed that they trusted this man, who said he was a child social worker, when really he was a janitor.
Daniel was allowed to appear on Oprah as the judge released him to do the show, saying that Daniel's story is possibly the best public service announcement possible to show families how predators work.
Across the table at a family gathering today, the question was asked.... if your eight your old child came up to you and told you that a family friend was touching you in an inappropriate place, would you believe your child?
I frequently check my boys awareness of sex. For instance, my seven year old heard the word 'sex' in a song and said "ooh mum, they said 'sex,'" so I asked him, "what is 'sex?'" He said "kissing with tongues." So now I know what the understanding of sex is for him. If he told me next week that a family friend was rubbing his penis on his backside, I would believe him, because it is not in his comprehension that that is a sexual act, and I know he is fully aware that seeing or touching someone's private parts is wrong.
My oldest sister asked my parents, if one of us came up to them when we were eight years old and it was one of their family friends, what would they have done? They said that the friendship would have dissolved very quickly, they could possibly have mentioned it to their friend's wife, but not once did they say they would report it to the authorities. Whereas, thirty years later, each one of my sisters said that we would go straight to the authorities and get our child examined. It's interesting the generational difference.
As a parent, we need to be fully aware of our child's awareness of right and wrong. This is where I believe befriending your children with friendly banter about 'their' sexual awareness is paramount in the act of raising your children. There needs to be mutual trust in this issue. If they ask you a question about sex, you need to give them an open and honest answer, as you'd expect from them about their knowledge and experience with sex. A mutual trust will protect them in the long run, because you know that they have been educated responsibly and that they will turn to you when or if they need help.
Daniel was sentenced to 5 years probation with therapy for his act, a very generous sentence from a judge who knew that Daniel's story needed to be heard from him and his family. Daniel is a very brave sixteen year old for coming forward and telling it so openly and honestly. Thank you Daniel...
http://www.oprah.com/oprahshow/The-16-Year-Old-Boy-Who-Killed-His-Molester/2
It was a sad story about a 12 year old boy who saw a handsome dog in a park and asked the man if he could pat him. The man agreed and they started talking. The topic came about that the man needed some work done around the house that Daniel would be able to do - mow the lawns, run some errands, walk his dog etc. Daniel's parents were wary of this stranger, and from the dog's collar, they got his details and did some checks on him to see if he was a registered sex offender. Luckily, for the man, he wasn't. Somehow, the man befriended the parents as well, happy for him to see where he lived, invited them over for dinner and became a good family friend. As boys talk between each other, the man started asking Daniel how many different words he knew for penis. As the banter became more fun and accepting, the man asked Daniel to show him his penis, and from then on the man had his way with Daniel. He knew all the things that Daniel liked, so offered him those things if he would perform sexual favours for him. Daniel was scared to tell his parents, ashamed of what he allowed the man to do, and week by week, year by year, the acts were getting worse. Until one day, Daniel blew up, hit the man on the head with a pickle jar, then stabbed him 55 times.
Daniel called his parents to say that something terrible had happened at the man's house, so his father rushed over to see. He saw the blood, the knife, the man lying lifeless on the floor. Daniel explained that the man had been hurting him and he was relieved that it was now over. They decided to call the police and admit Daniel's guilt. The police confirmed that Daniel had been molested by finding child pornography on the man's computer and a physical examination. The parents felt robbed that they trusted this man, who said he was a child social worker, when really he was a janitor.
Daniel was allowed to appear on Oprah as the judge released him to do the show, saying that Daniel's story is possibly the best public service announcement possible to show families how predators work.
Across the table at a family gathering today, the question was asked.... if your eight your old child came up to you and told you that a family friend was touching you in an inappropriate place, would you believe your child?
I frequently check my boys awareness of sex. For instance, my seven year old heard the word 'sex' in a song and said "ooh mum, they said 'sex,'" so I asked him, "what is 'sex?'" He said "kissing with tongues." So now I know what the understanding of sex is for him. If he told me next week that a family friend was rubbing his penis on his backside, I would believe him, because it is not in his comprehension that that is a sexual act, and I know he is fully aware that seeing or touching someone's private parts is wrong.
My oldest sister asked my parents, if one of us came up to them when we were eight years old and it was one of their family friends, what would they have done? They said that the friendship would have dissolved very quickly, they could possibly have mentioned it to their friend's wife, but not once did they say they would report it to the authorities. Whereas, thirty years later, each one of my sisters said that we would go straight to the authorities and get our child examined. It's interesting the generational difference.
As a parent, we need to be fully aware of our child's awareness of right and wrong. This is where I believe befriending your children with friendly banter about 'their' sexual awareness is paramount in the act of raising your children. There needs to be mutual trust in this issue. If they ask you a question about sex, you need to give them an open and honest answer, as you'd expect from them about their knowledge and experience with sex. A mutual trust will protect them in the long run, because you know that they have been educated responsibly and that they will turn to you when or if they need help.
Daniel was sentenced to 5 years probation with therapy for his act, a very generous sentence from a judge who knew that Daniel's story needed to be heard from him and his family. Daniel is a very brave sixteen year old for coming forward and telling it so openly and honestly. Thank you Daniel...
http://www.oprah.com/oprahshow/The-16-Year-Old-Boy-Who-Killed-His-Molester/2
Thursday, 14 July 2011
thirtysomething....
Remember the TV show? About couples in their thirties trying to find where they fit in their marriage, where they fit in their ideals, conflicted about being a stay at home 'mom' (as it was an American series!) and the feminism movement that took them through college? Michael and Hope? Aired at the end of the 1980s?
Even though the show was created twentysomething years ago, most of the thirtysomething concerns are still there. Many people in their thirties are stuck. Stuck raising a family, stuck in a job they've been in for a decade or more and unsure how to get out, stuck in a rut with their marriage, stuck in a life that is against their twentysomething dreams, and they wonder how they got there....
At some point in our thirties we 'choose' to have a midlife crisis, or not. We either love the life we are living and wouldn't change the dirty diapers, the constant nagging at the kids or the husband, the rigid routine, the Nissan X-Trail in the garage, the mortgage or the mounting credit card debt for anything. It's part of the dream of having a family, having a home to call your own, having a loving relationship with another and watching the little people you bring into the world grow up. But when did having a family, having 'the dream', make us compromised who we are?
We've compromised our wardrobe from up to date fashion to loose and comfortable, we've lost the romance in our relationships, we've stopped creating gourmet meals and settled for foods that the kids will only eat, we've run out of time to exercise or catch up with friends, and we've forgotten how to reeeeeealllly sleep.
So how do we get back our identity while still keeping the family cogs moving? What is really important to us as a person? Not a mum, wife, partner, daughter, sister, niece? Us? You as an individual?
It's easy, just listen to your heart and find the one thing in it that's special to you. It maybe having 'Friday night date night' with your significant other where if you can't afford to go out, you spend time cooking a special dinner for each other. It maybe finding a picture in a magazine of an outfit you'd like to wear and you create a goal for yourself to lose the 'mummy' weight and buy it. It may be starting a home based business. It may be the dream you had when you were a little girl and you're thinking it's about time you'd start to realise it.
You need to dedicate time to yourself and stop throwing down chocolate, wine and painkillers to drown the real you into somebody you're not even sure 'is' anymore. Give yourself a real dream (not an over-achieving dream) to live for and 'make it happen.' It might be doing a cooking class in Tuscany, it maybe seeing your favourite rockstar play to a home crowd, it maybe learning to paint, doing lead-lighting, renovating a house, anything. If you stopped eating $20 worth of chocolate a week, you'd save $1000 a year. If you stopped drinking a bottle of wine every two days, you'd save $50 a week - that's $2500 a year. Put post-it notes on your fridge, on the cupboards, at your desk, on the bathroom mirror, wherever you can, telling you to stop doing the 'damaging act' and put that energy and money into the 'inspiring act.' Live for the life changing events not the fleeting whims. Find your passion, plant the seeds and make it grow.
One thing I've learned from all of my woes is, only YOU can make it happen. No one else leads your life, except you. Be true to yourself and you will always shine.... So, let's go make some hay!
Even though the show was created twentysomething years ago, most of the thirtysomething concerns are still there. Many people in their thirties are stuck. Stuck raising a family, stuck in a job they've been in for a decade or more and unsure how to get out, stuck in a rut with their marriage, stuck in a life that is against their twentysomething dreams, and they wonder how they got there....
At some point in our thirties we 'choose' to have a midlife crisis, or not. We either love the life we are living and wouldn't change the dirty diapers, the constant nagging at the kids or the husband, the rigid routine, the Nissan X-Trail in the garage, the mortgage or the mounting credit card debt for anything. It's part of the dream of having a family, having a home to call your own, having a loving relationship with another and watching the little people you bring into the world grow up. But when did having a family, having 'the dream', make us compromised who we are?
We've compromised our wardrobe from up to date fashion to loose and comfortable, we've lost the romance in our relationships, we've stopped creating gourmet meals and settled for foods that the kids will only eat, we've run out of time to exercise or catch up with friends, and we've forgotten how to reeeeeealllly sleep.
So how do we get back our identity while still keeping the family cogs moving? What is really important to us as a person? Not a mum, wife, partner, daughter, sister, niece? Us? You as an individual?
It's easy, just listen to your heart and find the one thing in it that's special to you. It maybe having 'Friday night date night' with your significant other where if you can't afford to go out, you spend time cooking a special dinner for each other. It maybe finding a picture in a magazine of an outfit you'd like to wear and you create a goal for yourself to lose the 'mummy' weight and buy it. It may be starting a home based business. It may be the dream you had when you were a little girl and you're thinking it's about time you'd start to realise it.
You need to dedicate time to yourself and stop throwing down chocolate, wine and painkillers to drown the real you into somebody you're not even sure 'is' anymore. Give yourself a real dream (not an over-achieving dream) to live for and 'make it happen.' It might be doing a cooking class in Tuscany, it maybe seeing your favourite rockstar play to a home crowd, it maybe learning to paint, doing lead-lighting, renovating a house, anything. If you stopped eating $20 worth of chocolate a week, you'd save $1000 a year. If you stopped drinking a bottle of wine every two days, you'd save $50 a week - that's $2500 a year. Put post-it notes on your fridge, on the cupboards, at your desk, on the bathroom mirror, wherever you can, telling you to stop doing the 'damaging act' and put that energy and money into the 'inspiring act.' Live for the life changing events not the fleeting whims. Find your passion, plant the seeds and make it grow.
One thing I've learned from all of my woes is, only YOU can make it happen. No one else leads your life, except you. Be true to yourself and you will always shine.... So, let's go make some hay!
Wednesday, 13 July 2011
The Realisation Part Three
When I returned, I was happy to see everyone. I felt renewed and eager to get back into the day to day activities, but with a new invigoration to step it up a notch and start looking out for me a bit more. Even though I'd accepted that I needed to start doing things for myself, divorce didn't even enter my mind. I just knew I needed to do a few more things for myself to make me happy, as I was the one who was in charge of my own happiness.
I started looking into ways that I could accelerate my writing skills into another genre, I wrote a children's book manuscript, I researched the publishing industry to see how it worked and how to get noticed; I started to talk to illustrators regarding my children's book ideas and researched what genres were selling. I started reading more, escaping into my own little world to understand more about life, more about the things that were important to me. I wanted to share these things with my husband, but his interest and level of expertise wasn't there to give me anything but patronising praise. He had no idea what I was talking about and he was too in tune with his own creative world to step for a minute into mine. It was disheartening because I wanted him to share the same excitement for it as me, but he just didn't have the level of comprehension or passion that I had to talk to him about it.
I started my Masters in Writing on-line and discovered a whole new world of like-minded people who had the passion and intensity for writing as I did. At last, I could argue points that were important to me, feeling like my opinion was important and I could have an intellectual conversation about writing and publishing. At last, I was being heard. It was liberating and exhilarating, it was something that I really felt was in tune with my heart.
It was obvious though, our passions were living in completely separate corners and the way we worked on those passions were worlds apart. We just didn't care to admit it at the time. He wanted to do things his way and wouldn't allow me to give him suggestions on how he could improve his turnover, so I just kept going with my own thing, keeping the bills paid and my heart content in my writing. I was feeling good about myself again... I had a new hat to wear - 'budding author', and I liked it.
I started looking into ways that I could accelerate my writing skills into another genre, I wrote a children's book manuscript, I researched the publishing industry to see how it worked and how to get noticed; I started to talk to illustrators regarding my children's book ideas and researched what genres were selling. I started reading more, escaping into my own little world to understand more about life, more about the things that were important to me. I wanted to share these things with my husband, but his interest and level of expertise wasn't there to give me anything but patronising praise. He had no idea what I was talking about and he was too in tune with his own creative world to step for a minute into mine. It was disheartening because I wanted him to share the same excitement for it as me, but he just didn't have the level of comprehension or passion that I had to talk to him about it.
I started my Masters in Writing on-line and discovered a whole new world of like-minded people who had the passion and intensity for writing as I did. At last, I could argue points that were important to me, feeling like my opinion was important and I could have an intellectual conversation about writing and publishing. At last, I was being heard. It was liberating and exhilarating, it was something that I really felt was in tune with my heart.
It was obvious though, our passions were living in completely separate corners and the way we worked on those passions were worlds apart. We just didn't care to admit it at the time. He wanted to do things his way and wouldn't allow me to give him suggestions on how he could improve his turnover, so I just kept going with my own thing, keeping the bills paid and my heart content in my writing. I was feeling good about myself again... I had a new hat to wear - 'budding author', and I liked it.
Tuesday, 12 July 2011
My Realisation - Part 2
I arrive in London at 5.30am pumped about the next ten days after a 24 hour flight. I feel confident, like I'd been there before, like I knew my way around Heathrow, like I knew my way around the Underground, but my eyes were open to all the newness it presented. Wide open.
I found my way to Clapham Common, where Tracy lived. She met me at the station, and whisked me back to her place to see her cute three storey share house and freshen up. Tracy packed a bag for Paris, and I packed a smaller one. We left her house, grabbed something for breakfast opposite the Common before heading out on a double decker bus to see the sights and sounds of London from up top while making our way to St Pancreas station. My eyes were opening wider and my camera was in instant shutter mode. Around every corner was another iconic London treasure and I was just in awe of the tradition, the lifestyle, the culture, the charming laneways, the four hundred year old buildings, just everything. We had a quick look around the Camden Market before arriving at the station for our 2pm train ride to Paris.
We bought a large punnet of strawberries, a sandwich to share and some water for our two and a half hour journey to Paris. WOW! Just two and a half hours... it's just unfathomable in Australian terms, that another world renowned major city in another country is just two and a half hours by train! We sat opposite another couple of ladies of which one was an English lass who lived in the Bahamas. The concept of the world being so close was just overwhelming me.
We arrived in Paris, caught the Metro to our tucked away hotel, dropped our luggage off and decided to walk the streets of Paris to find the perfect place to enjoy dinner. The architecture was simply beautiful. The sweet streetscapes, laneways hidden behind doorways, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower - it was all there in plain site. We found somewhere to eat before the sun faded away. It was close to 10pm, when after such an amazing day, I told Tracy that I was a little tired. She was amazed I lasted that long. But I had to, as it was literally the best day of my life. The best day of my life for me...
Over the next few days, we returned to London and I had time to myself while Tracy worked. I wandered around Convent Garden, had my books to read and started working on my new career direction - writing, at that stage, children's books. I was diving deep into the concept of characterisation and creating characters on paper, trying to grasp the idea as the character being my best friend. I was loving that I was in such an inspiring place working on my new love and passion. It was sitting right with me, and the world I'd left behind in Australia was like a distant memory. I wandered the streets of London completely aimlessly finding new historic places, beautiful parkland and venues that were just mind-boggling that I was actually out the front of. It was just amazing having my own space and the freedom to do whatever I wanted to do, without being hassled by a husband, controlled by children or demanded by a deadline. It was like a weight had lifted over me and I was finding the 'me' that had been suppressed for so long.
Tracy and I drove up to the Lakes District and discovered the beauty of the English countryside. It was there where I broke down, downing some ales in a pub in Windermere. I told Tracy that I loved my kids, but I was at my whits end about my husband. He was draining me in every possible way and it was all getting too much. I didn't want to go back there. I told her that I would calculate how much it would cost me if he wasn't there and think about how much life would be easier without the stress he causes. She was consoling me, telling me that it was fine, and that I was being silly. I told her that I don't miss him, and the more I was away from him, the more I resented that he had a chance to see the world without me on the money that I made. How did I let this happen? I'd met so many lovely people on this trip, that I'd been blinded and pigeon holed by my husband for so long, that I had no belief in the goodness of people anymore, and it took a trip like this to see that people will open up to find out who you are, and have a genuine interest in you. But I had no stories to tell, I had lived an imprisoned life of working 12-16 hour days, being a mother and essentially being a slave to my husband with absolutely no outside interests. There was nothing that made me 'me', except for my motherhood. And that, for me, was overwhelming sad.
Tracy didn't want the end of my trip to be full of sad stories, and neither did I, so we found renewed inspiration in the charm of Hill Top, Beatrix Potter's house in Sawrey, Wordsworth's grave and mixed in the air of some literary heroes amongst the Lakes District taking in the beauty, their passion and their inspiration of the surrounds.
I flew back home with clarity that I had to make a change. I didn't know how I would make that change, and how that change would be received. But I knew I had to start doing more things for myself to further my own life and work on a way that I can be there for my boys more often and write about what I am passionate about. My interest wasn't in my husband's business affairs, and it definitely wasn't in him anymore. My priorities subtly changed towards making life better for me and less about feeding his ego. It was so subtle, he didn't even realise that the ship wasn't sailing for him anymore, and he was sinking fast. And my life started to blossom again.
I found my way to Clapham Common, where Tracy lived. She met me at the station, and whisked me back to her place to see her cute three storey share house and freshen up. Tracy packed a bag for Paris, and I packed a smaller one. We left her house, grabbed something for breakfast opposite the Common before heading out on a double decker bus to see the sights and sounds of London from up top while making our way to St Pancreas station. My eyes were opening wider and my camera was in instant shutter mode. Around every corner was another iconic London treasure and I was just in awe of the tradition, the lifestyle, the culture, the charming laneways, the four hundred year old buildings, just everything. We had a quick look around the Camden Market before arriving at the station for our 2pm train ride to Paris.
We bought a large punnet of strawberries, a sandwich to share and some water for our two and a half hour journey to Paris. WOW! Just two and a half hours... it's just unfathomable in Australian terms, that another world renowned major city in another country is just two and a half hours by train! We sat opposite another couple of ladies of which one was an English lass who lived in the Bahamas. The concept of the world being so close was just overwhelming me.
We arrived in Paris, caught the Metro to our tucked away hotel, dropped our luggage off and decided to walk the streets of Paris to find the perfect place to enjoy dinner. The architecture was simply beautiful. The sweet streetscapes, laneways hidden behind doorways, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower - it was all there in plain site. We found somewhere to eat before the sun faded away. It was close to 10pm, when after such an amazing day, I told Tracy that I was a little tired. She was amazed I lasted that long. But I had to, as it was literally the best day of my life. The best day of my life for me...
Over the next few days, we returned to London and I had time to myself while Tracy worked. I wandered around Convent Garden, had my books to read and started working on my new career direction - writing, at that stage, children's books. I was diving deep into the concept of characterisation and creating characters on paper, trying to grasp the idea as the character being my best friend. I was loving that I was in such an inspiring place working on my new love and passion. It was sitting right with me, and the world I'd left behind in Australia was like a distant memory. I wandered the streets of London completely aimlessly finding new historic places, beautiful parkland and venues that were just mind-boggling that I was actually out the front of. It was just amazing having my own space and the freedom to do whatever I wanted to do, without being hassled by a husband, controlled by children or demanded by a deadline. It was like a weight had lifted over me and I was finding the 'me' that had been suppressed for so long.
Tracy and I drove up to the Lakes District and discovered the beauty of the English countryside. It was there where I broke down, downing some ales in a pub in Windermere. I told Tracy that I loved my kids, but I was at my whits end about my husband. He was draining me in every possible way and it was all getting too much. I didn't want to go back there. I told her that I would calculate how much it would cost me if he wasn't there and think about how much life would be easier without the stress he causes. She was consoling me, telling me that it was fine, and that I was being silly. I told her that I don't miss him, and the more I was away from him, the more I resented that he had a chance to see the world without me on the money that I made. How did I let this happen? I'd met so many lovely people on this trip, that I'd been blinded and pigeon holed by my husband for so long, that I had no belief in the goodness of people anymore, and it took a trip like this to see that people will open up to find out who you are, and have a genuine interest in you. But I had no stories to tell, I had lived an imprisoned life of working 12-16 hour days, being a mother and essentially being a slave to my husband with absolutely no outside interests. There was nothing that made me 'me', except for my motherhood. And that, for me, was overwhelming sad.
Tracy didn't want the end of my trip to be full of sad stories, and neither did I, so we found renewed inspiration in the charm of Hill Top, Beatrix Potter's house in Sawrey, Wordsworth's grave and mixed in the air of some literary heroes amongst the Lakes District taking in the beauty, their passion and their inspiration of the surrounds.
I flew back home with clarity that I had to make a change. I didn't know how I would make that change, and how that change would be received. But I knew I had to start doing more things for myself to further my own life and work on a way that I can be there for my boys more often and write about what I am passionate about. My interest wasn't in my husband's business affairs, and it definitely wasn't in him anymore. My priorities subtly changed towards making life better for me and less about feeding his ego. It was so subtle, he didn't even realise that the ship wasn't sailing for him anymore, and he was sinking fast. And my life started to blossom again.
Monday, 11 July 2011
My realisation... Part One
I don't want my blog to be about things I've done and a plethora of advice pointing the finger to suggest that you 'must' do this, because I feel we all know in our hearts what is right for us, it's just getting the courage to do exactly that. But there will be times where I feel I want to give some inspiration to those who need a little shove, and this is one of those times... when you discover the point of no return.
It was back in March 2008. I'd been working my own business for just over seven years, I'd been a mum for a little less than seven years, and I'd been the main breadwinner for that entire time. My husband kept making promises that he will have a successful business and that one day, I will be able to stop writing for real estate and do what I want to do. In that time, he'd been overseas four times, plus did a couple of trade shows interstate, and each time, I had to run my business, run his business and look after the boys. We had sold our home ten months prior to have the funds to service his business, but really all it gave us was a pool of tens of thousands of dollars for him to go buy himself a Mercedes without asking me, spend money on legal fees on 'pipe dream' business ideas and for him to live it up in the cafe culture, while I continued to work 12-16 hour days.
I was always scared that if I wasn't there for my clients when they needed me, I would lose my business. And my business was my lifeline. I would turn up to properties at 5pm on New Years Eve, take phone calls at 10pm on a Thursday night for a property due the next day at midday, I wrote ads three hours after I gave birth in hospital, essentially, I would jump over hurdles to make sure that my clients could rely on me. It kept the roof over our heads, fed my children and made sure we continued a comfortable life. My husband was spending more on his business than we needed to survive, and not bringing a cent in, so our funds were dwindling down at a rate of knots. I was being squashed into a corner with no sense of self except a strong work ethic and being a good provider.
It was time for me to bite the bullet. I'd never owned my own passport and I thought it was about time I did. I emailed my high school friend Tracy in London and asked her if she was interested in a guest for a week or two for her birthday at the end of May. She had been on my back about getting my passport for years, so she was very excited about the prospect. My husband was fine to look after the fort while I was away, however it was extremely hard to tell my clients and provide a back-up for them who was satisfactory to use temporarily, but not good enough for them to continue using them when I came home.
Tracy was excited, and we started to plan my time over there. She couldn't see me for her birthday, as someone in her office had already asked for that time off, so we planned ten days a week later. She thought it would be silly for me to come all this way without taking a detour over to Paris, so we booked the Eurostar and a fleeting night in the 'city of love.' We also booked a car to travel up to the north of England to the Lakes District to have a little country escape. The rest of the time would be in London, where Tracy would need to work a few days, which was fine by me.
I booked my trip and was literally the most excited I had been in years. This was at last, something for me. Researching my stay pumped me up even more. Looking at maps, at how the London Underground & the Paris Metro works, seeing how I can enjoy the time but do it on a budget at the same time. And it was an amazing feeling that I was budgeting for one, and not two or four. Essentially, I was making myself informed, but not planning too much, except for the one night in Paris and the two nights in the Lakes District. Everything else would just happen. I was tired of being stuck to a regimented timetable with work and my home life, this holiday would be a chance to break those boundaries and just go with the flow. I had to find myself again, find what rings true with me, and this was my chance.
The start of June arrived. My clients had praised me for taking some long-awaited time off, so I felt comfortable about leaving them at this relatively quiet time of the year. I wasn't nervous about leaving my boys at home as I knew my husband was capable on a temporary basis. I was feeling good. I wasn't nervous about traveling to the other side of the world by myself, which I half expected I would. I was prepared and knew what I was doing, knowing that whatever happens will be.
It was back in March 2008. I'd been working my own business for just over seven years, I'd been a mum for a little less than seven years, and I'd been the main breadwinner for that entire time. My husband kept making promises that he will have a successful business and that one day, I will be able to stop writing for real estate and do what I want to do. In that time, he'd been overseas four times, plus did a couple of trade shows interstate, and each time, I had to run my business, run his business and look after the boys. We had sold our home ten months prior to have the funds to service his business, but really all it gave us was a pool of tens of thousands of dollars for him to go buy himself a Mercedes without asking me, spend money on legal fees on 'pipe dream' business ideas and for him to live it up in the cafe culture, while I continued to work 12-16 hour days.
I was always scared that if I wasn't there for my clients when they needed me, I would lose my business. And my business was my lifeline. I would turn up to properties at 5pm on New Years Eve, take phone calls at 10pm on a Thursday night for a property due the next day at midday, I wrote ads three hours after I gave birth in hospital, essentially, I would jump over hurdles to make sure that my clients could rely on me. It kept the roof over our heads, fed my children and made sure we continued a comfortable life. My husband was spending more on his business than we needed to survive, and not bringing a cent in, so our funds were dwindling down at a rate of knots. I was being squashed into a corner with no sense of self except a strong work ethic and being a good provider.
It was time for me to bite the bullet. I'd never owned my own passport and I thought it was about time I did. I emailed my high school friend Tracy in London and asked her if she was interested in a guest for a week or two for her birthday at the end of May. She had been on my back about getting my passport for years, so she was very excited about the prospect. My husband was fine to look after the fort while I was away, however it was extremely hard to tell my clients and provide a back-up for them who was satisfactory to use temporarily, but not good enough for them to continue using them when I came home.
Tracy was excited, and we started to plan my time over there. She couldn't see me for her birthday, as someone in her office had already asked for that time off, so we planned ten days a week later. She thought it would be silly for me to come all this way without taking a detour over to Paris, so we booked the Eurostar and a fleeting night in the 'city of love.' We also booked a car to travel up to the north of England to the Lakes District to have a little country escape. The rest of the time would be in London, where Tracy would need to work a few days, which was fine by me.
I booked my trip and was literally the most excited I had been in years. This was at last, something for me. Researching my stay pumped me up even more. Looking at maps, at how the London Underground & the Paris Metro works, seeing how I can enjoy the time but do it on a budget at the same time. And it was an amazing feeling that I was budgeting for one, and not two or four. Essentially, I was making myself informed, but not planning too much, except for the one night in Paris and the two nights in the Lakes District. Everything else would just happen. I was tired of being stuck to a regimented timetable with work and my home life, this holiday would be a chance to break those boundaries and just go with the flow. I had to find myself again, find what rings true with me, and this was my chance.
The start of June arrived. My clients had praised me for taking some long-awaited time off, so I felt comfortable about leaving them at this relatively quiet time of the year. I wasn't nervous about leaving my boys at home as I knew my husband was capable on a temporary basis. I was feeling good. I wasn't nervous about traveling to the other side of the world by myself, which I half expected I would. I was prepared and knew what I was doing, knowing that whatever happens will be.
Sunday, 10 July 2011
Internet dating... putting the personal into the 'personals'
Internet dating is becoming more widely acceptable as a means to meeting new people. There are still the sticklers for meeting people the traditional way - through friends, at a bar, bumping trolleys at the supermarket and through your kids, but when your social time is limited and you are restricted to the confines of your home most nights, the traditional way is definitely less effective.
The main difference between internet dating and the traditional method is that the 'appealing' attributes of the person you are about to meet have been emphasised in their profile. They have blatantly told you what their favourite characteristics are about themselves, and what others have told them about them, plus they have listed their pre-conceived ideals that they want in their new mate. Whereas, the traditional methods, everything is left up to surprise and your first spark is mutual attraction (and maybe some notes from friends who've tried to set you up).
So, how do you decipher what is real and what masks the truth? As a copywriter, it's interesting how many people say to me "when I read 'renovator's delight' that means it's falling down and the bulldozer would make a better impression on it than a renovation." There are many 'codes' in the words we see and how they are interpreted. I, have my own set of codes, for instance, when describing bedrooms, a 'double' bedroom fits a 'double bed'; when I say '3 lovely bedrooms', the bedrooms are of various sizes so I can't talk about their size, when I say '3 big bedrooms' the bedrooms really are oversized for the era of the home or today's expectations. But others might read things differently, and that is what we need to remember.
So when we look at the 'personal ads' on the internet, are we looking at what is being actually being said or our own set of codes that we 'believe' is being said? Are we dismissing people off too quickly because all too often we've come across 'self employed' to find that he struggles to make $300 a week and still lives with his parents? Are we being too restrictive in our 'want' list to instantly dismiss someone because he has one attribute off our 'don't want' list? Are we being too concerned about looking for Mr Right, when Mr Right Now could actually be just as appealing?
I know for me, when someone approaches me on an internet dating website, they must show me their enthusiasm for life or pick up on something in my profile that is important to me when they say hello. Most of them won't 'have me at hello', because it's boring and unadventurous. They have to show me some spark in their conversation opener and their profile becomes secondary to their conversation.
Life is too short, no doubt. And when you've been stuck in an unhappy relationship for what feels like decades, you do want someone who reveals your inner you, and that is why we are so concerned about finding Mr Right, because Mr Right Then was sucking the lifeline out of us. But is life too short to be always wishing you could find Mr Right when you could be enjoying someone for their companionship, intimacy and a few laughs? Who knows what it could turn into? But then, who do you be true to? If you are seeing Mr Right Now and Mr Right comes in on his horse with shining armour sweeping you off your feet, 'saying' that he will give you everything that you want in a relationship, so you tell Mr Right Now where to go, only to discover twelve months later that Mr Right was full of himself and you wish you had Mr Right Now back in your life, who's the idiot now?
Relationships are complicated and people will drift in and out of our lives for one reason or another. We can't afford to be fixed on the ideal that we will be with someone for the rest of our lives anymore. We need to live more for the moment, as life is way too busy and complicated to be dwelling on the 'dream' and foregoing a chance of happiness in the meantime. Live for each day, take a risk, trust your inner feelings, and who knows? You might find someone to complement you in every way possible. But it is only you who can take that chance...
Friday, 8 July 2011
Finding happiness...
It's sad to see so many single mums holding onto the image that it takes a 'man' to give them happiness. Or for those who are the other way inclined a 'woman.' They see couples together, enjoying each other's company, schmoozing with each other, smiling and whispering sweet nothings to each other wishing that that image was them.
And it is a nice thought, no doubt. But why does it have to be everything that we hold on to? Why can't it be a 'part' of the happiness and not the only thing that would make us happy? Are single mums giving themselves a life sentence of sadness by holding onto that 'one' thought?
Where does this image come from? Is it the fairytale of romance that we learnt from Cinderella and Snow White that makes us believe that this is the life we must live for? Can't we be married to ourselves - married to the adventures that we create for ourselves, married to the opportunities we give ourselves, married to a life of independence? What is it that is so appealing about a man that we can't live without them?
Really girls, the lustre of what a man can provide a woman these days is fading quickly. Women are able to financially look after themselves, change a light bulb by themselves, mow the lawns, get home loans by themselves, and know when they are being conned by the service department at the car dealership that they need to replace the windscreen wipers now when there really is another eighteen months left before they need to be changed. Women aren't silly anymore. Give yourself more credit. Think about your friend's marriages and look deeper than the surface. Are they truly happy or co-existing for financial and family reasons? Do they still have the romance, the passion and vitality for each other, or are they constantly annoyed with their spouses?
More and more men are struggling to fulfil their financial and family obligations due to their ever expensive 'toys' and 'boys weekends away' that they so dearly deserve (cough cough), putting more stress on the family unit and leaving the mum home with the kids, trafficking them around to Saturday morning sports while the husband is off playing golf with his mates. The family unit is slowly separating under the one roof with women taking their kids off on holidays while the husband stays back to work. Is this the image that single mums pin their dreams on in the hope that one day they will be a 'couple' again?
Admittedly, sexual intimacy is one thing a couple cherish. Lying down in bed, opening up about each other's vulnerabilities, talking about their hopes and dreams and learning about each other's bodies. It's truly what makes 'being together' so magical. But when the bedroom door opens, a new face emerges and the bedroom talk is a distant memory. You hold onto those times and try to let all the other negativity disappear, knowing that sooner than later, you'll have a chance to be intimate again, as that is what feels good within your partnership.
But in the end, happiness can only be found from within... if you are happy, you will attract happiness, and good fortune, and fabulous friends, and a passion for being you. You need to believe in yourself that you are the only person that can make you happy. Once you are there, you will attract people who will look up to you, be inspired by you, and fall in love with you, and then maybe, just maybe, you will find a place in your heart to love another, as they do for you.
And it is a nice thought, no doubt. But why does it have to be everything that we hold on to? Why can't it be a 'part' of the happiness and not the only thing that would make us happy? Are single mums giving themselves a life sentence of sadness by holding onto that 'one' thought?
Where does this image come from? Is it the fairytale of romance that we learnt from Cinderella and Snow White that makes us believe that this is the life we must live for? Can't we be married to ourselves - married to the adventures that we create for ourselves, married to the opportunities we give ourselves, married to a life of independence? What is it that is so appealing about a man that we can't live without them?
Really girls, the lustre of what a man can provide a woman these days is fading quickly. Women are able to financially look after themselves, change a light bulb by themselves, mow the lawns, get home loans by themselves, and know when they are being conned by the service department at the car dealership that they need to replace the windscreen wipers now when there really is another eighteen months left before they need to be changed. Women aren't silly anymore. Give yourself more credit. Think about your friend's marriages and look deeper than the surface. Are they truly happy or co-existing for financial and family reasons? Do they still have the romance, the passion and vitality for each other, or are they constantly annoyed with their spouses?
More and more men are struggling to fulfil their financial and family obligations due to their ever expensive 'toys' and 'boys weekends away' that they so dearly deserve (cough cough), putting more stress on the family unit and leaving the mum home with the kids, trafficking them around to Saturday morning sports while the husband is off playing golf with his mates. The family unit is slowly separating under the one roof with women taking their kids off on holidays while the husband stays back to work. Is this the image that single mums pin their dreams on in the hope that one day they will be a 'couple' again?
Admittedly, sexual intimacy is one thing a couple cherish. Lying down in bed, opening up about each other's vulnerabilities, talking about their hopes and dreams and learning about each other's bodies. It's truly what makes 'being together' so magical. But when the bedroom door opens, a new face emerges and the bedroom talk is a distant memory. You hold onto those times and try to let all the other negativity disappear, knowing that sooner than later, you'll have a chance to be intimate again, as that is what feels good within your partnership.
But in the end, happiness can only be found from within... if you are happy, you will attract happiness, and good fortune, and fabulous friends, and a passion for being you. You need to believe in yourself that you are the only person that can make you happy. Once you are there, you will attract people who will look up to you, be inspired by you, and fall in love with you, and then maybe, just maybe, you will find a place in your heart to love another, as they do for you.
The Sex Shop Dilemma
Take one single mum and put her with a married mum and take them off to the local sex shop and see what fun you can have!
Oh the joys of the bright colours, the battery operated gizmos, the fluffy hand-cuffs, the slutty lingerie... there's no darkened out windows anymore... it's all out in the open, like our sexuality. The new sex shop is like an open aired warehouse with bright lights and dodgy looking change cubicles with overly tattooed beefy looking men with motorbike style moustaches on Harley Davidsons posted on the wall, supposedly there to boost your confidence as you get naked and try on the skimpy lace number that might just get you laid tonight (but may also be a turn on for Harry trying on the 'cheek chillers' for the rodeo night his mate Bruce is having).
So single mum takes married mum for support to buy herself a new 'rabbit', as her last Bugs decided to say 'that's all folks' before blowing a gasket and running out of steam. With no current man in her life, 'Bugs' is her saviour, the one thing she can't live without and it is truly an urgent mission to find a replacement, which she finds... 'Roger.' As single mum is excited to find her new companion, she convinces married mum to buy one for herself, one thing she can't imagine using when she has such a stud muffin giving her explosive orgasms at home... So the novice vibrator shopper begins...
What is on offer? How is this one different from that? The married mum is shocked. So many different types to choose - ones that rotated this way and that, have 104 different settings, and those that point and poke at you in a variety of ways. She is introduced to the infamous 'rabbit', but didn't realise that there is also Flicker (a dolphin), Whiz (a hummingbird) and even Sly (a snake).
"Can I please have one that isn't an 'animal?'" married mum asks as she doesn't want to be reminded that she had some wild beast between her legs as she tries to climax on a piece of cold rubbery plastic.
The sex shop lady shows her some more 'traditional' versions of the vibrator in 'red hot lava,' 'passion pink' and 'green with envy' to give her a taste of automated pleasure without wanting it to dominate her sex life. She walks out with 'passion pink' and single mum is pleased that married mum has finally joined the toy ownership club.
Married mum goes back home, unsure to tell her stud muffin husband about her latest purchase. As his last wife preferred her toy to him, so he is absolutely petrified of them. She decides to tell him, on the basis that she would only use it when he wasn't home, and promises him that it will never come out in one of their passionate moments. He is satisfied, she is satisfied even more (now that she has sex on tap!) and they live happily ever after with 'passion pink' nicely tucked away in the nightstand.
Oh the joys of the bright colours, the battery operated gizmos, the fluffy hand-cuffs, the slutty lingerie... there's no darkened out windows anymore... it's all out in the open, like our sexuality. The new sex shop is like an open aired warehouse with bright lights and dodgy looking change cubicles with overly tattooed beefy looking men with motorbike style moustaches on Harley Davidsons posted on the wall, supposedly there to boost your confidence as you get naked and try on the skimpy lace number that might just get you laid tonight (but may also be a turn on for Harry trying on the 'cheek chillers' for the rodeo night his mate Bruce is having).
So single mum takes married mum for support to buy herself a new 'rabbit', as her last Bugs decided to say 'that's all folks' before blowing a gasket and running out of steam. With no current man in her life, 'Bugs' is her saviour, the one thing she can't live without and it is truly an urgent mission to find a replacement, which she finds... 'Roger.' As single mum is excited to find her new companion, she convinces married mum to buy one for herself, one thing she can't imagine using when she has such a stud muffin giving her explosive orgasms at home... So the novice vibrator shopper begins...
What is on offer? How is this one different from that? The married mum is shocked. So many different types to choose - ones that rotated this way and that, have 104 different settings, and those that point and poke at you in a variety of ways. She is introduced to the infamous 'rabbit', but didn't realise that there is also Flicker (a dolphin), Whiz (a hummingbird) and even Sly (a snake).
"Can I please have one that isn't an 'animal?'" married mum asks as she doesn't want to be reminded that she had some wild beast between her legs as she tries to climax on a piece of cold rubbery plastic.
The sex shop lady shows her some more 'traditional' versions of the vibrator in 'red hot lava,' 'passion pink' and 'green with envy' to give her a taste of automated pleasure without wanting it to dominate her sex life. She walks out with 'passion pink' and single mum is pleased that married mum has finally joined the toy ownership club.
Married mum goes back home, unsure to tell her stud muffin husband about her latest purchase. As his last wife preferred her toy to him, so he is absolutely petrified of them. She decides to tell him, on the basis that she would only use it when he wasn't home, and promises him that it will never come out in one of their passionate moments. He is satisfied, she is satisfied even more (now that she has sex on tap!) and they live happily ever after with 'passion pink' nicely tucked away in the nightstand.
Thursday, 7 July 2011
Maintaining a balance - don't forget about you...
So after yesterday's rant, what I urge all single parents to do, no matter what, is make sure you have time for 'you.'
Think about what makes you 'you.' It's a hard question, because for so many years, you have been a wife, a partner, a mother and you've forgotten what's important to 'you.' Everyone demands a piece of you and there is nothing left for you to remember the 'real you.' What is it that makes you truly happy? Is it shopping? Is it being one with nature? Is it lying on the couch with your favourite DVD wrapped in a blanket? It's somehow trying to find even an hour a day to discover yourself again...
So what can you do to rekindle your spirit and bring back the self-confidence you once had when you were on the prowl pre-kids, pre-husband, pre-partner? Did music make you feel liberated? Did you feel comfortable in your own skin because you were a size 8-10, rather than the size 16-18 you are now? Don't worry, I hear you, because I've been there and have almost made my way back.
Now I realise as a single parent, time and money won't necessarily be on your side. So let's work on the 'free' stuff first:
Think about what makes you 'you.' It's a hard question, because for so many years, you have been a wife, a partner, a mother and you've forgotten what's important to 'you.' Everyone demands a piece of you and there is nothing left for you to remember the 'real you.' What is it that makes you truly happy? Is it shopping? Is it being one with nature? Is it lying on the couch with your favourite DVD wrapped in a blanket? It's somehow trying to find even an hour a day to discover yourself again...
So what can you do to rekindle your spirit and bring back the self-confidence you once had when you were on the prowl pre-kids, pre-husband, pre-partner? Did music make you feel liberated? Did you feel comfortable in your own skin because you were a size 8-10, rather than the size 16-18 you are now? Don't worry, I hear you, because I've been there and have almost made my way back.
Now I realise as a single parent, time and money won't necessarily be on your side. So let's work on the 'free' stuff first:
- Walking is both great exercise and helps you clear your head and give you energy. Create a walking or running routine that enables you to beat your personal best. Incorporate hills, staircases, block lengths, whatever it is to help you achieve your fitness goals.
- Window shopping can be just as rewarding as shopping. You can try things on, watch the latest trends, indulge in the joys of looking firsthand and knowing you can resist the purchase.
- Join a library if you love reading.
- Borrow DVDs from friends and family so you're not watching the same movies (just make sure you return them).
- If you love writing, write a blog - test the waters to see if you can reach an audience for bigger and better things in the future.
- Buy a DVD to pursue mediation, do yoga or try your hand at pilates.
- Join a social club - if it's a mother's group, book club, walking group, fan club - just something to keep you talking to other people and not feeling alone in what you're doing.
Now, as for time, it will all depend on how old your children are. But there is one thing you must promise yourself... make sure your evenings are yours. And make sure your children know that you need your time too. If your children are too young to leave by themselves for you to go for a run in the morning or spend a Sunday afternoon window shopping, make sure you give yourself at least one night a week to be 'me' time - a movie night, reading a book, inviting a friend over for an evening chat, learning something new, having a luxurious bath, giving yourself a beauty treatment, researching your favourite popstar, even going out on a date. Whatever it is, do it to 'rejuvenate' you. Don't read books or surf the net to find out more about raising kids, do something that is purely for 'you,' not the different hats you wear.
The hardest thing is making the time and effort to do something for you and not feeling guilty about not dedicating your time to your kids. But the best thing you can do for your children is step away responsibly from your parental duties and give yourself a mental and physical break. Because once you achieve that, you will have the mental strength to be a better parent and learn to appreciate the beauty of your kids more. If anything, don't think of it as a selfish act, think that you're doing it for your kids. And your children will thank you in the warmest, most sincerest ways for finding a way to the depths of your heart and finding 'you' again.
Wednesday, 6 July 2011
A touchy subject... time to shut off from the negativity
Hmmm... as a single mother to two pre-pubescent boys, I tend to get a lot of what I'd call 'judgement' statements about 'how' I should raise them, 'where' my priorities lie, 'who' I should affiliate myself with and 'what' I am doing wrong. Do you hear me single parents? And do you find it mainly comes from married people who have absolutely no idea how to be a single parent? It's exhausting. It's demoralising. It weakens your soul because the more you hear it, the more you feel you're not doing the right thing by your children and you are torn between what you believe is the right thing to do for them, and what's the right thing to do for yourself to maintain your sanity.
I'm not suggesting that it's every married person that I've come across as most of my friends are wonderfully supportive, but if you divvy the field, you'll find that single parents out there haven't the time to be telling you want you should or shouldn't be doing because they too are overwhelmed with the plate that life has dealt them themselves.
So here is my rebuttal... no one, unless you have been in the shoes of being a single parent - where you have to earn every dollar to survive, where you have no consistent help from the other parent or grandparents, aunts and uncles, where you have to be a domestic goddess, be a homework genius, a taxi driver and a disciplinarian and where you have to deal with every psychological, educational, medical, social, practical, moral and rearing issue ON YOUR OWN, no one can ever give advice to a single parent.
Why is it that married people dress their judgement up as 'concern?' Do you hear single people being concerned about married people? Only unless there is domestic violence, an extra-marital affair going on or other issues like alcoholism or gambling... Really, what are married people 'concerned' about with a single person - that they don't have anyone to share their life with? That they haven't got anything to do? That they don't believe that they are happier now than they were in a horrible marriage because 'belonging' to someone is 'their' version of happiness?
One thing I have learnt though this ordeal is that everyone has their own wants, desires, goals, ideals and code of ethics... Just because mine are different to yours doesn't mean that you need to cast your opinion of disapproval. If I'm happy, be happy for me. If I'm sad, console me. As I would for you... We can't afford to place our own individual ideals on other's lives as in this ever-changing world, we must change our traditions to make life a more pleasant and enjoyable experience. And in any way, if you could see the smiles on my boys' faces, I know I'm a good mum and I'm doing the right thing for and by them.
I'm not suggesting that it's every married person that I've come across as most of my friends are wonderfully supportive, but if you divvy the field, you'll find that single parents out there haven't the time to be telling you want you should or shouldn't be doing because they too are overwhelmed with the plate that life has dealt them themselves.
So here is my rebuttal... no one, unless you have been in the shoes of being a single parent - where you have to earn every dollar to survive, where you have no consistent help from the other parent or grandparents, aunts and uncles, where you have to be a domestic goddess, be a homework genius, a taxi driver and a disciplinarian and where you have to deal with every psychological, educational, medical, social, practical, moral and rearing issue ON YOUR OWN, no one can ever give advice to a single parent.
Why is it that married people dress their judgement up as 'concern?' Do you hear single people being concerned about married people? Only unless there is domestic violence, an extra-marital affair going on or other issues like alcoholism or gambling... Really, what are married people 'concerned' about with a single person - that they don't have anyone to share their life with? That they haven't got anything to do? That they don't believe that they are happier now than they were in a horrible marriage because 'belonging' to someone is 'their' version of happiness?
One thing I have learnt though this ordeal is that everyone has their own wants, desires, goals, ideals and code of ethics... Just because mine are different to yours doesn't mean that you need to cast your opinion of disapproval. If I'm happy, be happy for me. If I'm sad, console me. As I would for you... We can't afford to place our own individual ideals on other's lives as in this ever-changing world, we must change our traditions to make life a more pleasant and enjoyable experience. And in any way, if you could see the smiles on my boys' faces, I know I'm a good mum and I'm doing the right thing for and by them.
Tuesday, 5 July 2011
Thank God for the tradesmen :)
I'm a lucky girl, if I may say so myself. I have friends who help me when I need it, and not only to look after the boys when I need to travel the world to find romance or to forward my writing venture, but also in a 'professional' capacity. OK, get your mind out of the gutter and be real!
In the past month, I've called upon an electrician and a gas plumber. The electrician came around the next day after I had three power surges that turned on the safety switch. I'd been concerned about those 'trendy' but highly dangerous low voltage lights that are scattered around my house after the 'free' (because the government paid for it) insulation Indians came around and blanketed the insides of my roof with insulation batts. Since then, the lights have been temperamental and even when I try to replace the bulbs, they don't work. So with one light flashing indiscriminatingly, two bedrooms without fixed lighting and another three light bulbs refusing to work, I thought it was time I got the 'professional' in. Greg popped in and checked my lights - fixed my son's bedroom light and the annoying flashing one, checked the connections for the others to realise that they had faulty transformers and leads and said he would be back when I was away to fix the rest. Well I've been back two weeks now, and there's no sign that Greg has been back - but I'm lucky, as he hasn't charged me for his visit yet, and my house feels a lot more safe!
So today, I came home from running around looking at houses, leaving the boys at home to watch TV in their pyjamas all day, when I realised that the ducted heating wasn't on. I went to check it, and it was sitting to heat up to twenty-three degrees, but the temperature was around eighteen degrees (Celsius, my American friends!) and the heater just wasn't kicking in. I called my good friend Mark, who happens to be my son Nick's best mate's Dad, who just happens to own a gas plumbing business, specialising in gas heaters and cooking appliances. He had five more jobs to see before he could possibly squeeze me in, but promised he'll be there for me before the end of the night. At 5.40pm, he knocked at the door, got himself set up and saw the pilot light was out and that it was in desperate need of a service. He got it going again and said he'll be back to service it over the next couple of weeks, but at least we are in the warmth of our home again.... especially when the top temperature for the remaining days of the week isn't going to reach more than twelve degrees with some serious wind.
So I'm thankful for my tradie friends for being their when I need them and making the effort in times when I'm unsure of what to do, especially when I don't have a 'man about the house.' Even though they are rough around the edges, they have a good heart and always have a good story to share.
So sorry girls, no seductive sex story (but I do have one up my sleeve I must tell one day - maybe tomorrow!) with the tradie, just some good honest to good guys who help a stranded girl out when she needs it to keep her babies safe and warm. :)
In the past month, I've called upon an electrician and a gas plumber. The electrician came around the next day after I had three power surges that turned on the safety switch. I'd been concerned about those 'trendy' but highly dangerous low voltage lights that are scattered around my house after the 'free' (because the government paid for it) insulation Indians came around and blanketed the insides of my roof with insulation batts. Since then, the lights have been temperamental and even when I try to replace the bulbs, they don't work. So with one light flashing indiscriminatingly, two bedrooms without fixed lighting and another three light bulbs refusing to work, I thought it was time I got the 'professional' in. Greg popped in and checked my lights - fixed my son's bedroom light and the annoying flashing one, checked the connections for the others to realise that they had faulty transformers and leads and said he would be back when I was away to fix the rest. Well I've been back two weeks now, and there's no sign that Greg has been back - but I'm lucky, as he hasn't charged me for his visit yet, and my house feels a lot more safe!
So today, I came home from running around looking at houses, leaving the boys at home to watch TV in their pyjamas all day, when I realised that the ducted heating wasn't on. I went to check it, and it was sitting to heat up to twenty-three degrees, but the temperature was around eighteen degrees (Celsius, my American friends!) and the heater just wasn't kicking in. I called my good friend Mark, who happens to be my son Nick's best mate's Dad, who just happens to own a gas plumbing business, specialising in gas heaters and cooking appliances. He had five more jobs to see before he could possibly squeeze me in, but promised he'll be there for me before the end of the night. At 5.40pm, he knocked at the door, got himself set up and saw the pilot light was out and that it was in desperate need of a service. He got it going again and said he'll be back to service it over the next couple of weeks, but at least we are in the warmth of our home again.... especially when the top temperature for the remaining days of the week isn't going to reach more than twelve degrees with some serious wind.
So I'm thankful for my tradie friends for being their when I need them and making the effort in times when I'm unsure of what to do, especially when I don't have a 'man about the house.' Even though they are rough around the edges, they have a good heart and always have a good story to share.
So sorry girls, no seductive sex story (but I do have one up my sleeve I must tell one day - maybe tomorrow!) with the tradie, just some good honest to good guys who help a stranded girl out when she needs it to keep her babies safe and warm. :)
Monday, 4 July 2011
Independence Day - Australian Style!
Invited my gorgeous (in personality :) ) ex real estate, but very married and expecting friend Rowan over for dinner tonight to have an impromptu Independence Day feast. We made Angus Beef Burgers on Ciabatta bread (gourmet hamburger) with colby cheese (as American cheese looks artificial and is impossible to buy in Australia), tomato, lettuce and tomato sauce (sorry didn't have any ketchup!) with a side of corn on the cob. I drank Miller beer (it was a toss up between that and Budweiser at the liquor store), while Rowan couldn't help himself and went for the Carlton Draught (such an Aussie - a boy from the Manly beaches!). We finished the meal off with a bottle of Merlot and some M&Ms (you'd think I'd be sick of them by now!). I handmade my little American flags as I couldn't find any at the shopping centre, so a friend of mine suggested I print some off the web and glue them to toothpicks, so I did!
Rowan showed me beautiful pictures of his trip to Greece and Italy with his pregnant wife Nat, and I showed him my pics of New Mexico and Arizona with my boys. Had a few laughs - talked some serious shit... friendships, work, bringing babies into the world, etc. Will be sad to see him leave when he moves to Sydney. Such a good mate!
Kids in the background watching Austin Powers... glad it goes over the top of their heads... won't be for too much longer though... :) Suzy xx
Sunday, 3 July 2011
On the Half-Hearted Scout...
Yesterday was one of those rare days that the ex took the boys for his seven hours a month of fatherhood, so I thought I would whisk myself of to see an adult movie. Well, when I say that, I mean something that's not G or PG rated that the boys want to see. I went to see The Hangover Part II...
I was a little peckish after I did circles in the car park trying to find at least one space to park on this bleak Melbourne afternoon, but I wanted to be a little self-indulgent, so I trampsed off to the Wendys ice-cream shop and bought myself a hot chocolate shake. As I waited for the family of five to make their indecisive pickings, I looked at the two single men in the line to see if they had what it takes to woo me into eye contact and a smile. One was unshaven, a little cute with light brown hair and nice eyes, but he just didn't even look sideways at me. The other was tall dark and very handsome and shot me a smile, which I reciprocated until he started interacting with a gorgeous blonde and an over zealous 2 year old called Zach who kept running away before his hot dog was handed to him...
So I took myself off to Big W to buy a packet of M&Ms at half the price the cinema would make me pay for them, before venturing off to the ticket line. The ticket line was full of lady friends catching up, couples hanging out and a six foot three beast of a woman doing the solo thing like me. I wondered how she ever found someone to be compatible with. Someone that she didn't squash when she sat on him in the throes of passion. Was she a single mum too having some much needed time off from her terrors? Or just an unfortunate soul who could never find a soul mate? I felt sorry for her. How she ever finds clothes or shoes that fit her. How she would be limited in her choices of men (that's if she liked men?!), cars even houses to live in. Her face was solemn like it was a Sunday ritual to find some type of entertainment to keep herself occupied. I felt sad for her.... It just makes my quest less important when others truly struggle to find a slice of happiness that suits.
I get to the ticket box to find out that 'The Hangover Part II' is the $10 movie for the week. Bonus! I pay with the left over gift card Mum & Dad gave me and the boys for Christmas, only to have $1 left on it. The ticket vendor gives me my ticket and I'm stuck in the front row. What is with that? Do they intentionally give those who have a gift voucher or physically don't part with any money the worst seats in the house? I'm sure he could have found a single seat higher up in the crowd. I let it go, thinking it was meant to be, buy myself a choc-top with my last $1 (and some change) from my gift voucher and head into the cinema.
As expected, there were plenty of single seats around, but I took myself to seat A5 just in case someone fights for my stolen position before the movie starts. Half way into my choc-top, a single man sat three seats away from me, dropped his jacket in the seat nearer to me and flashed me a smile. I wonder if he will say something? Drum up a conversation? I kept giving him occasional glances until a pretty little thing laden with popcorn and coke sits next to him and gets very comfortable, if you know what I mean... Time to open that packet of M&Ms...
As the movie started, pretty little thing and her male companion decide to abandon their seats for a higher position leaving me in row A all by myself. That's OK, it's like I had the whole cinema to myself... to watch Bradley Cooper doing his thang in his white linen shirt, ruffled up hair, brilliant blue eyes and his captivating smile for ninety-five minutes on my own.
I was a little peckish after I did circles in the car park trying to find at least one space to park on this bleak Melbourne afternoon, but I wanted to be a little self-indulgent, so I trampsed off to the Wendys ice-cream shop and bought myself a hot chocolate shake. As I waited for the family of five to make their indecisive pickings, I looked at the two single men in the line to see if they had what it takes to woo me into eye contact and a smile. One was unshaven, a little cute with light brown hair and nice eyes, but he just didn't even look sideways at me. The other was tall dark and very handsome and shot me a smile, which I reciprocated until he started interacting with a gorgeous blonde and an over zealous 2 year old called Zach who kept running away before his hot dog was handed to him...
So I took myself off to Big W to buy a packet of M&Ms at half the price the cinema would make me pay for them, before venturing off to the ticket line. The ticket line was full of lady friends catching up, couples hanging out and a six foot three beast of a woman doing the solo thing like me. I wondered how she ever found someone to be compatible with. Someone that she didn't squash when she sat on him in the throes of passion. Was she a single mum too having some much needed time off from her terrors? Or just an unfortunate soul who could never find a soul mate? I felt sorry for her. How she ever finds clothes or shoes that fit her. How she would be limited in her choices of men (that's if she liked men?!), cars even houses to live in. Her face was solemn like it was a Sunday ritual to find some type of entertainment to keep herself occupied. I felt sad for her.... It just makes my quest less important when others truly struggle to find a slice of happiness that suits.
I get to the ticket box to find out that 'The Hangover Part II' is the $10 movie for the week. Bonus! I pay with the left over gift card Mum & Dad gave me and the boys for Christmas, only to have $1 left on it. The ticket vendor gives me my ticket and I'm stuck in the front row. What is with that? Do they intentionally give those who have a gift voucher or physically don't part with any money the worst seats in the house? I'm sure he could have found a single seat higher up in the crowd. I let it go, thinking it was meant to be, buy myself a choc-top with my last $1 (and some change) from my gift voucher and head into the cinema.
As expected, there were plenty of single seats around, but I took myself to seat A5 just in case someone fights for my stolen position before the movie starts. Half way into my choc-top, a single man sat three seats away from me, dropped his jacket in the seat nearer to me and flashed me a smile. I wonder if he will say something? Drum up a conversation? I kept giving him occasional glances until a pretty little thing laden with popcorn and coke sits next to him and gets very comfortable, if you know what I mean... Time to open that packet of M&Ms...
As the movie started, pretty little thing and her male companion decide to abandon their seats for a higher position leaving me in row A all by myself. That's OK, it's like I had the whole cinema to myself... to watch Bradley Cooper doing his thang in his white linen shirt, ruffled up hair, brilliant blue eyes and his captivating smile for ninety-five minutes on my own.
Saturday, 2 July 2011
Playing the Internet Meat-Market
The ads for eHarmony, match and RSVP flash up on the TV screen, you boldly change your Facebook status from 'in a relationship' to 'single' and you are bombarded with ways to catch a man, some even suggesting a 'rich' man, and then you discover all the single mums out there who are actually in a relationship found their next love via the internet. Is this the way they do it now? I'd been off the market for eighteen years - before the internet was even around, at a time when you found your life partner at a pub, through friends or worse, what I did, when I thought my luck was up and decided to buy a raffle ticket for a car and won a husband instead. I hadn't really had my wedding ring off for a month before I started to see that there might actually be some virtue in 'talking to strangers.'
I thought about all the attributes that were missing in my ex-husband that I wanted in a man... the ability to actually make a wage, the ability to embrace life and adventure, height, authority, spontaneity, and the ability to love me without hidden agenda.
My thoughts also lead to the idea that I wanted someone a little younger than my ex. My ex was ten years my senior, so I thought that maybe his complacency in life had something to do with the attitude 'I'm too old for this.'
So here I was, creating a list of wants and desires in a man, a personality profile of my projected self (after all, we do all want the world to know how we 'can' be, not exactly what we actually are) and an impatience to see who 'could' be out there for me.
I wanted someone 30-40 years old, who definitely didn't have kids because there is no chance I could fit someone else's kids into my hectic routine; I wanted a man 5ft 10 or taller, someone who could show me a good time, someone who could spoil me, someone who had a little spunk, someone who wasn't afraid of my individuality or my successes - the fact that I had my own business and that I am a little unconventional in the way I do things, and someone who actually earns a living. I just wanted someone to have fun with, nothing too serious, just someone who would break up my day with some cheeky emails and a little romance, after all, this was my time after eighteen years, to be me...
Once my profile was up, it didn't take long for men to jump at me. I was overwhelmed with 'Hi's', 'Hello's' or even an adaptation on that 'Hello beautiful'... No one with any type of innovation, aspirations or even perspiration to show me that they could sweep me off my feet with an opening line. What is with that? First impressions, especially on the internet, need some WOW factor, they need to pick something out of my profile that resonates with them to show me that they aren't just seeing the pretty face (cough cough!), but it seemed like no one had the 'balls' to come to the party.
It didn't take me long to realise that 30-40 year old men, who don't have kids have most likely never been married or in a serious relationship and that there was a reason for that... 'desperate' would be one word that came to mind, unsure of themselves would be another catchphrase, and my 'want list' of finding someone who was bold, high-spirited and successful was unlikely in this field.
Amongst the chaff, there were an alarming number of 'unhappily married' men available online. They saw my vivacity and made a bee-line to say Hello. But they knew how to be different, how to make a statement about themselves... they had the confidence, the energy and wordsmanship to create the intrigue I was looking for. Was I playing with fire? It was after all harmless banter, nothing more. I was obviously not the first to be lured by their tantalising ways, as their confidence was brave and undeniably audacious. They had definitely done this before. It wasn't me who made them turn to look in a different direction, it was something within their marriage that made them wander away. At least they were open about there 'marital status.' It wasn't like I was going to sleep with them when they lived in another state or country...
I had to stop before it was too late.. or was it already too late? There had to be a better way to find a mate. But when you're stuck holding the fort with your kids full time, your social life is essentially non-existent, and the chance meetings are rare, you need something to get you through the day that is solely yours to enjoy. And the underlying key to all of this is 'my happiness.' A happiness I hadn't had reciprocated in my entire married life. And I can't shut someone off in my life if they give me happiness, not now that I know what it feels like for someone to actually 'give' to me. Oh, the ordeal... the morality vs the happiness. I can see why life as a single mum can be more complicated than a Rubik cube being worked on by an animal without opposing thumbs.
I thought about all the attributes that were missing in my ex-husband that I wanted in a man... the ability to actually make a wage, the ability to embrace life and adventure, height, authority, spontaneity, and the ability to love me without hidden agenda.
My thoughts also lead to the idea that I wanted someone a little younger than my ex. My ex was ten years my senior, so I thought that maybe his complacency in life had something to do with the attitude 'I'm too old for this.'
So here I was, creating a list of wants and desires in a man, a personality profile of my projected self (after all, we do all want the world to know how we 'can' be, not exactly what we actually are) and an impatience to see who 'could' be out there for me.
I wanted someone 30-40 years old, who definitely didn't have kids because there is no chance I could fit someone else's kids into my hectic routine; I wanted a man 5ft 10 or taller, someone who could show me a good time, someone who could spoil me, someone who had a little spunk, someone who wasn't afraid of my individuality or my successes - the fact that I had my own business and that I am a little unconventional in the way I do things, and someone who actually earns a living. I just wanted someone to have fun with, nothing too serious, just someone who would break up my day with some cheeky emails and a little romance, after all, this was my time after eighteen years, to be me...
Once my profile was up, it didn't take long for men to jump at me. I was overwhelmed with 'Hi's', 'Hello's' or even an adaptation on that 'Hello beautiful'... No one with any type of innovation, aspirations or even perspiration to show me that they could sweep me off my feet with an opening line. What is with that? First impressions, especially on the internet, need some WOW factor, they need to pick something out of my profile that resonates with them to show me that they aren't just seeing the pretty face (cough cough!), but it seemed like no one had the 'balls' to come to the party.
It didn't take me long to realise that 30-40 year old men, who don't have kids have most likely never been married or in a serious relationship and that there was a reason for that... 'desperate' would be one word that came to mind, unsure of themselves would be another catchphrase, and my 'want list' of finding someone who was bold, high-spirited and successful was unlikely in this field.
Amongst the chaff, there were an alarming number of 'unhappily married' men available online. They saw my vivacity and made a bee-line to say Hello. But they knew how to be different, how to make a statement about themselves... they had the confidence, the energy and wordsmanship to create the intrigue I was looking for. Was I playing with fire? It was after all harmless banter, nothing more. I was obviously not the first to be lured by their tantalising ways, as their confidence was brave and undeniably audacious. They had definitely done this before. It wasn't me who made them turn to look in a different direction, it was something within their marriage that made them wander away. At least they were open about there 'marital status.' It wasn't like I was going to sleep with them when they lived in another state or country...
I had to stop before it was too late.. or was it already too late? There had to be a better way to find a mate. But when you're stuck holding the fort with your kids full time, your social life is essentially non-existent, and the chance meetings are rare, you need something to get you through the day that is solely yours to enjoy. And the underlying key to all of this is 'my happiness.' A happiness I hadn't had reciprocated in my entire married life. And I can't shut someone off in my life if they give me happiness, not now that I know what it feels like for someone to actually 'give' to me. Oh, the ordeal... the morality vs the happiness. I can see why life as a single mum can be more complicated than a Rubik cube being worked on by an animal without opposing thumbs.
Friday, 1 July 2011
Let me introduce myself!
'Sex and the Single Mum' is an exciting new blog produced by Suzy J. Brown about the life, loves and loathes of being a single parent in this fast paced world. I will show you how you can re-invent yourself after the loss of a partner (either through the dreaded process of divorce, the unexpected announcement that your partner is off to the clink for a white-collar crime or the undeniable loss of losing your partner to God). I will venture into the realms of finding your own sexual liberty, how to juggle the struggles of survival, how to cope with sticky nose married people who think they have been in your shoes before, how to give your kids a life of adventure, to knowing how you can enjoy just being a mum. Some of the stories will be from personal experience, others will be stories I've heard from others and want to share.
As for me, I'm a single mum to two gorgeous boys who are almost ten and eight. I have a talented red head who tends to have life working 'for' him, and a struggling little charmer who does get by on his winning personality, but has recently been diagnosed with an 'auditory processing disorder' that accounts for his learning disability and there are other factors involved too, that are leading to tests in dyslexia and ADD. I have my own copywriting business that gives me flexible hours, good dollars, but heavy duty deadlines and I am known from working 16-18 hour days regularly. My boys play soccer, hockey and basketball, so there are only two days a week without an extra-curricular activity at the moment. My ex husband has the boys seven hours a month as he refuses to do anything that I've organised for them. He calls them once a month, if he's lucky and he pays me $280 a month for child support. We have our court hearing for finances and child custody in the middle of July, which essentially will mark my two year anniversary of being a sole parent.
As for my sex life, I have succumbed to indulging in a long-distance relationship with a beautiful man who is 17 years my senior. We live 8000 miles away from each other and try to meet up 2-3 times a year. We aren't exclusive, but with my own business, an exciting new book getting ready to be published, being a sole parent 99% of the time and difficulty finding time to sleep, even looking at the meat-market at this time of my life isn't that appealing... but for you, I will do some research!
My exciting new book is called 'On the Road to the Best Orgasm Ever' - it's the tale about an Australian woman’s journey in finding herself beyond the lies in her marriage to a newly-found freedom within the co-existence of personal independence and a New Mexican internet love.
OK, OK, yes it sounds like a tell-all about my gorgeous lover, but it's more about digging deep to find where your happiness lies (or should I say 'happiness truths') in your own independence.
The pic is of my boys and I enjoying The Grand Canyon with our friend 'Doc' - a ring in from New Mexico, if you know what I mean!
Enjoy my blog, be my Facebook friend (Suzy J Brown), follow me on Twitter, and hopefully you'll be able to read my book sometime soon!
Cheers,
Suzy xx
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