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In the busy-ness of Fathers Day, I completely forgot to alert those privy to a new post over at the other private place... dust off the URL for that one, folks!

Getting to know my great-grandfather

I have been given a great swag of files and documents from one of my older cousins recently. This morning, while Steve and the LGBB are out at a movie for Fathers Day, I am sitting in my new den soaking up a brief half hour on my own. And, y'know, just doing nothing out of the ordinary.

I'm reading through the private letters from my great-grandfather Edward Leslie to his wife, Alice Leonora, while he was stationed in France during WWI.

I am riveted. This is the man who was the baptist minister, preaching about things ahead of his time to fundamental religious types whom he had shifting uneasily in their pews. The more I read about him the more I really dig the guy! And to "hear" his voice, in his own words (he even used the term "slacker" to describe himself in wartime France, 1917, because he was writing to his wife instead of whatever it was he was supposed to be doing in his hut!) after all these years and all the family stories is just priceless to me.

Question:

Who would be interested in me doing a series of posts on my family history? On my private blog, a long while back now, I began the story of my father's mother and how it intertwined with my life (my conception journey, to be accurate). This is different. This journey through my mother's side is enabling a softness and a fondness to come over me, towards her, the further I get to know my forebears down her family line.

I want to weave a bit of my learning in there... But I'm not sure if it'd get boring for anyone outside of my family.

So... Hands up here who's a genealogy/family history nut and, if you are, would hearing about another's family history be in any way helpful to you? Do you think?

Pardon me, waitress?

When I originally posted this in Sept. 2008, I was too subtle. Several readers expressed concern and almost went as far as saying I really ought to report the below café to some sort of government health body...

I'm glad for the opportunity to dust it off again, by way of Multiple Mum's weekend rewind (whaaat? She went and took the Rewind off her sis? WHERE HAVE I BEEN and when did this happen???), which this weekend is asking that we link up to a post sharing parenting advice.

I'm going to offer that you can never lose your sense of humour. Ever. If you can help it. It will help carry you through. On the day of the post in question, I had been so far having a shit of a week (I can still remember it three years on, give you any indication?). And the ability to sit in the moment and just be waited on by our young daughter brought not only squeals of delight from her but peals of mucho-required laughter from me.

Don't lose your sense of humour.

If you feel it all caving in on you, give over to the stress and pressure and..... stop. Hand on heart, remembering these two (seemingly simple) things are what saw me through the first three years.

Got a bit of 'advice'? Link up! Here's my contribution:

We tried a new café yesterday. When we turned up it looked inviting enough. We were welcomed warmly and took a seat each.
Then, things started to get a bit weird.
The waitress seemed confused when I asked for a capuccino. She took my order gleefully enough, but instead of waiting for my money, she simply smiled widely, turned and walked over to the cash register where she proceeded to take out a $5, bringing it back to pay me and calling it "A hunret. And fifty. Dollez". I was confused, to say the least.
Then Steve gave her his order too and the waitress busied herself by turning circles, seemingly to steady her excited self, before heading back to the cash register and retrieving more money for him.
Bizarre.
But then, things got a whole lot weirder.
We looked over, while we waited on the comfy chairs, and to our surprise we saw the waitress obviously straining. She made no effort to disguise that she was very noticeably filling her ... pinafore ... with the exception of turning her face away. But we could see, with the lifting of the strands of hair over her face, that she was exerting quite some effort and breathing through it as she *hushed tones* pushed one out.
Steve leaned over to me and quietly instructed me from the corner of his mouth, "Just don't order a hot chocolate, for God's sake." I think it was this point that I finally fell off my chair, unable to regain any composure.
Despite all this, the place was a treat. Absolutely quaint. I highly recommend the brownies.

Oh, waitress?
Butter wouldn't melt in her mouth...

Where I get all sentimental over a lost tooth

Since the age of six months, the LGBB has been sporting teeth. I remember so well the day Steve pulled down her bottom lipso I could take this photo:

Look Ma and Pa, I done gone and grown a toof! Or two...

We were so excited to see this milestone. She was so excited we were within her vicinity. In fact, her ability to be chuffed at herself hasn't ever really been an issue for our LGBB.

The first tooth became wobbly about a month ago. It felt like it still had a lot of staying power to me.

But what do I, her mother, know?

Our little Lolly lost her tooth yesterday at preschool and didn't even realise. I was greeted by her gapless grin when I came to collect her. "It must have just happened!" the teacher said. "They were just outside eating broccoli from the garden..."

The culprit vegetable eaten and swallowed, the options are obviously that she either swallowed it or it fell out somewhere, never to be recovered for her scrap book. I have my first tooth. I thought it was a bit eugh growing up. But now I have my own child, I appreciate that my mother did that. It was more special to her than it ever will be to me. I get that... now.

I'm sad. I'll admit it! I am a sentimental sap, I am really quite glum about it. Of course, in the grand scheme of the state of the world, hey this is nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Still... we will never get to keep the first teeny, tiny, marvellous wonder of a tooth that was the first to grow and the first to fall out.

Our teeny, tiny, marvellous wonder. She's growing, she's growing, slow down, my tiny love, my beautiful growing big girl! Mummy has got to catch up and try to get used to this.

Complete with a big teardrop for good effect.
Awwwww.

10 ways you can help a bereaved person

You cannot "fix" it but you can:

  1 say "I'm here for you" and be there
  2 show you care
  3 offer practical support
  4 don't take anger personally
  5 be patient - allow silences
  6 listen and accept strong emotions
  7 don't say you know or understand unless you really do
  8 avoid platitudes: it's God's will, etc.
  9 allow them to talk of their loved one, and speak their name
10 take care of yourself know your limits

I really appreciate this particular list for its open-endedness, which invites thoughtful interpretation to act within what feels appropriate for you and the bereaved person in your life.

Grief and bereavement comes in different forms, wearing different faces. I think deep down, even when it might appear the person before you doesn't know this, we do all know this. Sometimes we forget, is all. There are so many emotions from all sides when a death occurs.

That is why I am always on the look-out for a good dot-point list. There are many, scores of them, online. But where are they when you need them? And where are the good ones?? I want to add my list of top 10 to the throng, as it is one that resonates with me. It is not a list I made up, but one I came across last week in a waiting room. It is from The Compassionate Friends, an organisation that brings together mutual support and self-help models for those whose son or daughter has died (at any age).

As with any group or support organisation, it's not for everyone but it could just be for you. In my time, I have availed myself of the services (quietly, usually via online means and searching as I strived to heal) of the most widely known grief support services in Australia - SIDS & Kids, SANDS, Bonnie Babes (now the Small Miracles Foundation) and most often, I found myself visiting various websites of The Compassionate Friends: A world wide family supporting bereaved parents and siblings.

You can find out more about TCF by visiting their Victorian-based website or Freecall 1800 641 091. They offer 24 hour grief support within Australia, with support contacts in each state.
They are also in the UK and USA.

Ellanor & Me - 2004
Her fragile, beautifully delicate little fingers hurt my heart

Unexplained Infertility? Let's look at Heavy Metals, Hormones & Tummy Fat

A message from MassAttack - This is an unsponsored post and is a copy of MassAttack's latest e-newsletter that comes directly to my inbox. The information contained in this post is intended as an information reference. If you are experiencing unexplained infertility, perhaps this presents something new for your consideration. 

For your own copy of the e-news or to find out more about what they offer, why not check out their website?

Female hormones are influenced by heavy metals and this is an area that is so readily overlooked when dealing with unexplained infertility.  Heavy metals also have an influence on your weight.  In fact, if you want to attain your ideal weight and improve your health in the process you need to start with detoxification.

Everything in our bodies is interrelated so you really can't change something without changing something else. Let's consider one example of such interrelationship:

Heavy metal intoxication and tummy fat. How are they related?
Studies show the connection between certain chemical substances accumulated in the body and underactive thyroid function leading to weight gain. For example, mercury and copper toxicity can result in hypothyroidism and hence the weight gain. Heavy metals also interact with each other, for example the presence of lead can make the detrimental effects of mercury much stronger.

Heavy metal toxicity also results in different digestive tract disturbances such as bloating, constipation or diarrhea, abdominal pain, nausea, vomiting and others. Heavy metals accumulated in the body can cause the liver damage and since the fat regulation is among the important functions of the liver, it will be impaired too.

Don't think that heavy metal exposure is a problem only for people who directly work with them
All of us are widely exposed to heavy metals in our daily lives. Cosmetics, deodorants, dental amalgams, newsprint, paint, birth control pills, aluminum foil, antiseptics, body powders, cheese, toothpaste, milk products, nasal sprays - all of them are sources of heavy metals. As you can see, nobody is immune to them.

The heavy metal intoxication levels in your body may need to be addressed before you can solve your hormone imbalances and weight-related problems. 

We now offer a full 24 hour comprehensive urine heavy metal test, and if this is something you would like to chat about, please call 1300 133 536. 

Remember, you need to fine-tune your health if you want to attain and maintain your ideal weight.

Better the devil you know: Facing a demon in the garden

I dug out no less than three blackberry root balls in the garden yesterday. For some reason, I needed to do hard physical labour so the weeds got an absolute shellacking.

As I wrestled with the stubborn, deep roots that would not give ground, I mused about the fact that these things have been here in the corner of our front yard for over a year. I've barely given them a cursory glance in all that time. About six months ago, when the bushes were in full pelt, strangling the beautiful native shrubs around them, I had a go at Steve for not containing them and overpowering them before they got so out of control. Dumbfounded, my husband (correctly) assumed it was better to simply don his gloves and get hacking than argue any rational points he had regarding timing of removal, proper equipment to do the job once and for all, or his already long To Do list for that weekend.

But the problem didn't go away. I cursed the return of the blackberries. Having been poisoned, they were weaker now. But they were beginning to grow and get healthier again, having staked a good position for themselves.

There is a young grevillea that I planted the year we bought this house. There is also a menacing, determined blackberry stump with a trunk thicker than the grevillea right beside it, strangling the life out of it. I can see the native is weakening, its leaves are yellowing. The blackberry is gaining strength beside it. They are fighting for the nutrients in the ground, both of them struggling to survive. I can't have that happen again. It's time for the plant to be saved. No more letting things take their course on their own.

So I intervened.


As I pulled and yanked at this blackberry yesterday, having conquered three other smaller ones nearby and feeling high on "Take THAT!" power, one of its thorns pricked my thigh deeply through my pants. I felt like I had been bitten by a snake. When I looked down, I saw that it had sunk into my flesh and I had to delicately remove it, being careful to pull it out the way it went in. I don't know if it was the rush of the pain registering in my head or the hunger for that euphoric feeling of the roots giving way to my force, but I suddenly felt like I was doing battle with the demons of my childhood.

I don't speak of my molestation on here. I don't feel it necessary. I will never go into detail, that's for sure. That, too, is not necessary. Suffice to say, for three years (at least) from the age of six, my innocent life as a child was stunted, interrupted, stolen. These were not sporadic, random happenings. These were systematic, ever-present, regular sessions. I know the scenes well. I know my feelings about it all very well. The healing is all but finished.

An event happened recently that enabled me to see just how far I have healed in the past couple of years  (this is something that has taken me over thirty years to properly and safely release). The push-pull yesterday with that unrelenting, strong blackberry was no accident. I began to curse it under my breath in my sunny, beautiful front yard. I felt safe. I felt in control. I felt I could over-power that fucking sucker of life and save the beautiful young plant trying to blossom and grow alongside it.

It is a delicate operation - their roots go deep, side by side. One false move or a premature stab and I risk severing the life cord of the precious plant by mistake. So I backed away from the project for the day. I was starting to get a little stab-happy with the spade, like a woman possessed.

The cut. Running parallel with the vein. An ass-hatty reminder
 that this thing HAS to stop walking beside me.

The blackberry remains, for the moment. It did not yield. But it will. It stung me, as if to remind that it is still there. Still present. It won't let go without a fight. But it is weakened now. I really worked hard at destroying it. I will conquer that invader. To save the organism that is now healing beside it.

I have scars. The blackberry got me. Again and again it got me. But I know I can beat it now. Those barbs don't sting nearly so much with the realisation that I am stronger than it. It has to go. I felt the roots giving. I'll not let the sun go down today without removing it ceremoniously from its place. Its purpose has been served.

Thank you, blackberry, for what you've shown me today. Now... piss off!

Returning to the back yard in the late afternoon sun, I took a seat and was treated to the LGBB practicing her skipping with the skipping rope. I gazed past the roof of our house and saw our spectacular liquid amber, naked in all its late winter glory. It was leaning towards the sun. I had never noticed how much so until that moment.

It knows what to do. And look at the tall, thriving tree it has become in its lifetime.

We all know what to do, to survive.  Don't we?



Where are the barbs snagging you in your life? Are they deep-rooted? Have they served their purpose and is it time for you to do some weeding?


Don't forget to lean towards your life-giving Sun.