Thursday, August 25, 2011

BREAK Life Into Parts, and Handle One Part at a Time

I'm taking a blogging break.

I can pretend that I have writer's block but alas I'm just feeling lazy. The spring air that is teasing me at the moment is motivating me enough to open the door, breathe in the air and then quickly walk back inside as I'm sneezing a lung here.

I usually blog when there's a quiet moment at home (and sometimes work, ssshh...) There's no money in it for me nor is it a business venture, let alone any writing opportunities. There are far better writers and bloggers out there, just look at my sidebar! I write for fun and a laugh or sometimes to just get stuff out of my head. Most of all it is a link for others who may find hope in my infertility journey. It won't be missed. It's time to utilise my free time for other things I have loved doing during my life: reading books and television.

It's time to dust off The Strangest Adventures series. Written at the tender age of 13 by Alexandra Adornetto who is an Australian author. As a youth worker, I've always supported young people and their talents and I was completely amazed at this young writer. I have yet to finish the series and look forward to losing myself in the colourful characters.

And then there's the classic serial killer book that I have been inspired of late to read again after meeting a couple of my beautiful forum friends and another very soon. How the fuck did I tie forum friends and serial killers together you ask? Well what would go through your head when you are just about to meet people you first "met" on the Internet?

Then I will grab a bag full of delicious cheese and bacon ball chips carrot and celery sticks and watch my all time favourite TV cop show The Shield and then indulge in the period piece The Tudors.

In between the relaxing times I will again be a mother, a wife, a sister and daughter. A friend, an employee and a gym attendee. I will also be researching and documenting my mum's Greek recipes and hope to inspire you, feed you and salivate your senses when I return.

Ta ta...

Monday, August 15, 2011

Shopping Centres and Tantrums Are The Equivalent to Arse and Undies

They go hand in hand.

They are the same.

One can not live without the other.

Shooter and I decided to go to the food court for lunch on the weekend. With The Boy in tow and a vibrancy in our step, we were hanging for some good 'ole fish and chips. The pram was left at home so the kid could run his hearts content up and down the many aisles. We explored the various shops with it's glorious colours and noted in our heads the Christmas Gift shopping list. We carted too and from the abundance of the crowd.

Until we hit the DVD shop.

And The Boy spotted it, right down on the bottom shelf.

A Wiggles DVD. The four blokes and their skivvies.

And he had to have it. Grabbed it and walked off staring at it, oblivious to the nearby escalator. Consumed with it's front cover images.

We tried to pry it out of his small hands. Distract him with something else.

We tried.

Then the hysterics started. The screaming, stamping, epileptic "I'm being murdered" tantrum began.

Eyes bulging, mouth wide open with foam pouring from the sides and a ferocious cry, legs kicking, shoes falling off. Helicopter twisting when I tried to grab his hand and lift him up. Pushing me away, running away crying "Wiggles Wiggles Wiggles". Tears that flooded his little face.

People staring, some giving me the look of understanding. Others with contempt. The rest just laughed.

I felt like this:

We gave in of course. $20 later. Who the fuck puts children's DVD's on the bottom shelf?

Next time I go to the shopping centre, I'll be wearing this:

I've got to hand it to the kid though, he did put on a marvelous performance!

Image credit here

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Guest Post on Martyr-hood

Today I'm guest posting on Marty-hood. Romina has a history of infertility and recently welcomed her 4th child to the miracle list. She's currently on a maternity blogging leave break and asked me to help keep her blog alive.

My post centres on the issue that is close to my heart and plagues me on a regular basis. Compared to Romina's abundance of children, my post is regarding One Child Families.

Check is out HERE...

Monday, August 8, 2011

A Blog With Substance Award

The lovely Chhandita from As Good as It Gets? recently awarded me. I am very humbled to receive this considering that I am not a regular blogger let alone that my blog has any substance.

I've lately been reading Mel Ford's Stirrup Queens blog where in her latest post she writes about her experience at the BlogHer conference. One sentence that made me wake up and confirm why I blog was this: " I do the unpaid, sometimes unappreciated work for the human connection." Human connection - how odd that I feel the same way. How odd that I need to connect with humans as I type on a keyboard, oblivious to the outside world where real humans lurk. My time to write and express about my son's milestones, history with infertility, heartbreaks and other ponderings.

Has my life really resorted to sitting here alone, hoping that some human will connect with me?

Mel was mainly referring to the connections she has made in real life because of blogging; however for me her sentence defines it so much in what I feel.

I write because I like it. I know that I have improved in my writing. I will never be an author. I may have been born in Australia and English I consider as my first language now, but I never grew up surrounded by anyone academic to assist me with homework or encourage me in my educational endeavours. My parents are migrants with very little English and their existence is based on work ethics. I suffered in school because of my illiteracy and lack of support.

I've come a long way though. But does my blog have substance? What's the point sometimes? I often think that if I started writing a blog during my infertility years I would likely have tripled my followers and readership and no doubt the comments would be in 20+ range regularly if I was posting about my sufferings and negativity towards the fertile world. Later, it would have dwindled to nearly nothingness once I became pregnant or god-forbid had peace and resolution in the journey.

I blog to remember and to note some portions of my life. In the following months my posts will be a series of my mums beautiful Greek recipes. To remember, to record how she cooks so that I will continue her legacy and our culture.

I think then my blog will have substance. At least on the culinary perspective.

The rules are simple:
Name 7 random things about yourself and nominate 7 bloggers.

1. I pick my nose in public on the train. I don't care who's watching. When that booger needs to come out it bloody will, tissue or not.
2. If I was born male I would have been named Lambros after my grandfather (typical Greek tradition)
3. I can't swim properly. If the earth flooded I would definitely drown.
4. I have mild obsessive compulsive disorder - I'm a clean freak and always straighten photo frames or art pieces in other people's homes. So if you invite me over, make sure they are straight!
5. I got the cane in primary school when I was 6 because I threw rocks at the maintenance man. Even then I knew he was a dirty old man.
6. I once closed the door on my best friends fingers.. on purpose.. because she was giving me the shits.
7. I have had scabies, nasty little fuckers that I caught from homeless kids when I worked in the crisis refuge.

I enjoy reading every single blog that I follow and those that are in my Top Blog section are fantastic. Although the ones that I believe deserve some recognition, attention and what I truly believe have substance; are the ones that make the effort for others. The ones who find the time to not only read but to actually sign in and bother to write a comment.

Nothing bitchy about that paragraph, just a reality that there are still some of us still here, writing and wanting needing that human connection.

1. InfertiliTEE
2. My Path to Insanity and Beyond - My TTC Journey
3. A Half Baked Life
4. Love and other Drugs
5. One Perfect Emby
6. Who Said 3 is a Crowd?
7. A Year On.. a New Beginning

Other substance-worthy blogs include: madambipolar for her amazing insight and first person account of living with bipolar disorder and the immeasurable support and information she offers her readers. Theres' also Maybe Baby (or Maybe the Loony Bin)? and Marty-hood who are recently on maternity leave but still worth the read.

Monday, August 1, 2011

How 4 Men In Skivvies Forced A Laid Back Chick Like Me To Become A Manic Mum

The Wiggles are coming to town.

They're celebrating 20 years of skivvy wearing finesse. The Boy loves worships them. At least once a day, he will ask me to pop on their DVD as he jumps with excitement when the opening credits roll and the finger dancing begins.

I love them too, not for the fun but because for about an hour I can sit and watch my son's smile and captivation of the screen whilst I slurp slowly on my coffee. I'm looking foward to their concert and observing how he inhales the excitement of the silly yet catchy songs, the frivolity of the dancing, the colourful lights and sensational characters as well as soaking in the breathtaking crowds.

In five minutes the Sydney concerts were sold out.

About 20 years ago I was that skinny girl with the long brown hair, stone washed jeans with holes in the knees and a black Bonds t-shirt; who camped outside the local shopping centre with her steadfast mates, a six-pack of beers and a torn sleeping bag; waiting for Ticketek to open its doors for us to buy front row tickets to Pearl Jam or Faith No More, U2 or Alice in Chains. I was so close to the stage once that Anthony Kiedis from the Red Hot Chili Peppers blew me a kiss.

Well I think it was me that he was eyeing.

Today, as I tuck my tummy inside my waist high jeans, pick the nanna undies from my fat arse and tie my receding long brown hair in to a knot on my head, I feed The Boy and wash the dishes and wait till 9am. The sleepless night before was not because I was drunk with excitement or a mouth sore from laughing so much but because The Boy had a booger-fest party in his nose that kept me up, hourly checks on his breathing and tightly tucking him in to his blankie. My eye on the clock, stressed and panicky. Worried that I would miss out on tickets. The clock chimed exactly at 9am and I ran to the phone and dialled the number. Tickets bought with a credit card.

All grown up now, excited to take my child to HIS first concert.