I'm One Of Those ...

I'm one of those women now who sits on a train with a kid in a pram and:

• Gets dirty death looks from women my age (A fellow IF? - sigh)
• Passengers do an abrupt halt and run towards another carriage (I have a good kid, he won't bother you godsdamnit!)
• Old ladies touch my kid, pinch my kids cheeks, give my kid chips and lollies that are wrapped in their hanky's (Fuck me)
• Fertile cunts with 3 children who are allowed to run riot - feel that it is a prerequisite to come up to my kid with their filthy hands and snotty noses and touch my kid, slap my kid, kick my kid - whilst whore sits on her fat arse abusing one of her baby's daddy's on her mobile ignoring what her retard children are doing. (Make sure bitch I don't hear you say your full name, cause I'm a youth worker and have mates who work at the Department of Community Services) 
• Any gender or age who feel comfortable to discuss whether I breast feed, whether I had a vaginal or cesearean birth, and how long my labour was. (He's not my kid, I stole him from a dingo)
• Old men who have to remind me of the Golden Age where children were bashed to determine discipline and food was so rare that I have a very spoilt and lucky child because he was eating a biscuit.

I'm a public transporter who procures entertainment 3 days a week from the colourful citizens of the south westerners of Sydney. I've subjected my dear Callum to the perfunctory of human society since 6 months of age. He smiles at them. Completely oblivious to the conversations. Utterly innocent to the shallowness of people who have already judged him. Ignorant to the careless attention that is given to him.

I travel to his grandma, leave him with her to care for him. I then go to work with an effervescent amount of tales to tell my workmates. Sometimes it takes days to clean the bad taste from my mouth.

When grandma moves close to us, this episode will end. And I will go back to sitting in the section that is oblivious to the world, scratching my bum and consumed with my book.

For now, the battle continues to rage.

Bloggsters - What tales can you add to this list?

"Life Is A Warfare And A Stranger's Sojourn"

~ Marcus Aurelius.

Life does seem to be a battle sometimes. A dark stranger usually holidays in your soul when you're feeling black. I have moments of blackness. Only swift enough though to freak the fuck out of me. I'm not a paranoid delusional, although I've had my fair share of mind altering essences in my adolescence and early adulthood. "One time in band camp I ate a mushroom and hehe I thought I was a mushroom and one time I ...." But not enough to completely alter my physiology or my psychology. I'm somewhat discerning.

IF is was IS my dark stranger. Or in Dexter terms a dark passenger. I won't go on the bandwagon about this, I acknowledge and understand that there are many beautiful women out there still struggling to kick the goal of motherhood. I am grateful I have Callum. No scratch that.... I am completely ecstatic that I have Callum. Delirious is an understatement. But this post isn't about that. This dark passenger comes swiftly in my thoughts and for an infinitesimal moment whispers in my ear and tells me - Callum doesn't exist.

I nearly shit myself. Or in my favourite endearment: I touch cloth.

The dark passenger manufactures hallucinations.

I'm walking to the bus stop, pushing the pram. But Callum is not in there. It's just a doll.
I walk past Callum's bedroom, it's just a storage room filled with hoarded redundant crap.
I'm not woken up by any cries of "mum" but the neighbours detestable barking dog.

Everyone is playing the game too. They humble me because I'm insane, right? That poor woman holding the doll, rocking it gently, kissing it's cheek. That poor woman who had a miscarriage and can't have children. See her walking down the street pushing a pram - poor dear. Stop those vexatious teenagers from poking her with a stick!

They all give me those patronising sympathetic smiles. They feed the deception.

The dark passenger has been around since my pregnancy and stalks me still. I'm building the courage to tell the motherfucker to neck itself. To fly the fuck off. To bury itself in the deepest caves on Earth. To habituate the mind of a dung beetle.

I laugh at it. I suppose I'm broadcasting that I. Am. Crazy.

But for a split second my world crashes and I nonsensically believe the bullshit. Then I hear the slappity slap of bare feet running down the corridor, poking his head through the door and in a sweet little voice he says "mum, kaka". Time for a nappy change.

Reality hits and I can breathe again (through a mask, especially when he's teething)

My Real-Life Doll

Bloggsters, do you have a dark passenger too?
How has IF shaped your life?

Fat Arse Be Gone - Part 2 (Return of the Jelly Bean)

From Dusk to Dawn. Whilst you were sleeping. Or whilst you were playing. Depending which country you hail from.

My Weighloss Journey has come to a realisation - I need have to lose weight. Period.

Since this post I have been trying really hard to lose the weight, but no fat would budge. I was getting quite depressed about it as I had done this healthy lifestyle diet before and lost 12kgs. Something had to give.
So off to the doctor I merrily swore and cursed and shook my fist to the heavens I went. Several testings later, this my dear Bloggies is what I have been diagnosed with:

Pre-diabetes - basically if I don't get healthy and lose the weight I will forever be pricking fingers to monitor sugar levels as well as um yeah die from a heart attack or my feet will fall off from gangrene and I will have a belly that flops over and blankets my hooha. This condition has deterred the weight to fall off due to slack insulin working ineffectively.

Acid reflux - I was wondering why I keep winning belching competitions lately and why my throat burns everyday all day and why all of a fucking sudden tomatoes have become my enemy. I need to take a deep breath. Oh wait I can't. Try again.....that's better.

Anxiety has kicked in as well.

My knees click, my feet hurt, there's shooting pain in my hands. My left eyelid flutters. Constantly.

All repercussions of FAT and Sleep Deficiency and Too Much Coffee and No Sex.

I need a holiday......

Current fat arse weight: 78kgs (171 lbs)
Weight Loss Goal: 60kgs (132 lbs)

The Rules:

High Protein, Low Carb Healthy Lifestyle Diet - 3 meals, 3 snacks. Lowwww portions.
30 minutes per day of walking, weights, lunges, skipping rope, housework.
Drink more water.
Sleep - ergo don't stay up late watching Supernatural and perving on Jensen Ackles.

Medication and supplements I'm taking:

Metformin - diabetes/insulin. The happy happy joy joy side effect of this is I have to eat jelly beans if I feel fatigued.
Nexium - acid reflux
Slippery Elm & Chia Seeds - digestive/reflux
Fish Oil, multivitamins, B-complex, Chrome (sugar metabolism), Vitamin C.

I'll be living on this -

And this -

Not this -

Somebody kill me now......



Need to catch up on my Weighloss Journey?
Have fun reading this Fat Arse Be Gone - Part 1 and this BMI = BMX

"Does My Bum Look Big In This?" - New Blog Makeover

Something needed a makeover.

I'm trying with my body, but it's not there yet. FAT is evil and that cream bun looks heavenly.




Someone bring me a bucket for my saliva.


The cash supply is limited at the moment for home renovations. Callum likes to fingerpaint on walls with strawberry yoghurt.

My job is swell - I'm busy now smelly teenager with mango sucked spiky hair cut who needs a bath help finding a job, go away - The world can wait to be saved.

Shooter and Callum are perfect. Fullstop.

The parentals are in good health. My love for you is immeasurable.

Miss Clown is going back to University. She has a new boyfriend who has a real job and loves her dearly. Her life has turned around since this post.

My dear friend whom I have known since we were 12 years old recently had her first IVF cycle fail. I understand sweetheart how it feels. I will walk this journey with you.

I have no pets to groom. Although I have been eyeing that cute stocky cheeky bull terrier down the street.




Isn't he cute? Pinch you bum, bum.


The Blog it is....

Thank you Aly from The Infertility Overachievers who started her blog design business Bridge Work Blog Designs a few months ago. I had been thinking for a while to make this little blog a little prettier, but with my ineptitude for computer programming, I needed help and a creative touch. This blog is my sanctuary, my vault for rambling thoughts, my swear jar. I feel welcomed here and it's a connection to true friends - you.

Aly is a fellow IFer and is currently undergoing IVF for secondary infertility. I wanted to support her and her business as she is also a Work At Home Mum Mom.

Fabulous job you glorious American girl.

Does your blog need some essence? Support a fellow IFer and WAHM. Click on Aly's link now!

The bird you see in the heading is a dove. If you have read My IF Journey, you would know that Callum's name is Gaelic heritage means Dove - The Harbinger of Hope. I'm thinking of getting this as a tattoo - not sure where though.

The HOPE quote is from poet Emily Dickinson.




Caricature of Emily Dickinson


So my dear bloggies, what do you think of the New Look Blog? Seriously, does my bum look big in this?