Seasons Greetings! Happy 2008. Forgive my tardiness of late (and also that I don't have RSS feed on this blog anymore much to the chagrin of many but it can't be helped - private blogs don't allow them apparently).
Secondly, we have counting to ten (and parroting in general) happening here in earnest since Boxing Day. And it goes a little something like this:
Uhn... Taow... Fee... Fow... Fyh... Siss... Seh... Aaaaait... Nyyyyy.... Tehhhhhhn!!! *claps herself*
Thirdly, to the very very thoughtful person who sent the anonymous gift (you know who you are), a hearty thank you so much for thinking of the LGBB. Whilst I am all for the saying "you can never start them too young" on that kind of appliance, the girl herself is still extremely unsure whether she wants to take to it or not. And in fact, has banished the toy to one of the very few cupboards she doesn't frequent. I trust that anytime now, she'll be whisking it around masterfully, but for now it goes in the category "that makes a scary noise so I shan't acknowledge its existence." I'm sorry! Who knew??
Fourth, we have steppage. Yes, after just two short months of crawling, the LGBB is now very keen to step out if we help her up and encourage her along. She is not yet pulling herself up on anything, nor is she mastering the weight bearing evenly on both legs. But, baby steps, baby steps. And besides.... my kid can count to ten! So it's official: she's counting before she learned to walk. Certainly shows where her developmental prowess is leaning. Ass' mah grrrl. Because let's face it, if she was all action and moving and everything, I'm afraid to admit that Steve and I would probably have to wonder where she came from, for neither of us are incredibly active people.
Number five on this rather tedious-getting list: we move in two and a bit short weeks. The (as Lolly would say) "Paaaaay-ting" is going well and we have now painted the front bedroom, her bedroom and the sitting room. The wall between kitchen and dining room is completely gone, it will be finished off by the builder next week. Terribly exciting seeing it take shape.
And last but not least, a teeny update on the book (a teaser, if you will, for I shall have to post more on this another time). It's been confirmed I shall have a new "minder", of sorts, to help me with this writing. Another guide, I think it is. And a female one, I know that much. I'm just getting more and more in touch with where I was destined to head. I can feel it now. I can tell. Closer to happiness, true happiness, closer to understanding my abilities more. Closer to letting so MUCH of my old life go.
It's going to be a great year. Good luck to you all with whatever your endeavours are too for 2008.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Thursday, December 27, 2007
I only have myself to blame
If you've decided to tune to a station that (apparently) appeals to the masses in its playing of classic hits from the 70s, 80s and 90s, then really... you only have yourself to blame when you find your ears bleeding while stuck up a ladder, painting, unable to stop because you've got the perfect run of paint-daub happening along a crisp ceiling white edge.
When you hear 1927 singing That's When I Think Of You.
"I'd go mad", he sang. No shit.
When you hear 1927 singing That's When I Think Of You.
"I'd go mad", he sang. No shit.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Shitmas
Yet another year rolling to a close next week and I find myself devoid of Shitmas "cheer" completely this time around.
Think I am just spent, energy wise, and being jolly ('tis the season, I'm told) is just not up there on my list of must-do's.
Don't get me wrong, I am very happy about the pending move. I'm delighted that Steve, the LGBB and I get to spend our first uninterrupted (relatively - boom-tish) Christmas Day together because all the obligatories will be over with by Christmas Eve. And then we get to do what we want, with whomever we want. It's very refreshing.
But then, I also do still wonder how it's received. It must be difficult for the gingham-and-baked-pies set to accept that we don't want the traditional sit-down Shitmas fare anymore. I received the SANDS newsletter a couple of weeks ago. In it, one of the tips for surviving Shitmas was to know that it was okay to feel like you needed to break from old traditions. That we should do what we needed to do to get through this season, and that it was equally okay to allow others to do what they wanted/needed as well. Very sound advice.
Still, I wonder though: shouldn't this kind of advice via newsletters be going to the families of the family who's lost a baby, however long ago? It's just the one minor failing in this particular part of the process for mine. That I can read and be comforted that *I* am not alone, that my partner and my children are not alone. But what of the grannies, grandpas, aunts, uncles, cousins? Maybe they feel alone - as if they are the only ones trying to grapple with their various feelings surrounding the loss of a family member they never met. My sister never saw Ellanor. I wonder how that haunts her and if it does. I know it impacted me. But it's just how it happened.
So why can't there be some sort of register that your address goes on, as part of a very infrequent mailing list (even twice a year would be good), where the organisation sends out little beacons to those people too? Not just reminders about how to keep the continuity of care for the bereaved parents and brothers or sisters or subsequent children of the baby who's died. But also, I dunno... sort of like a shout-out to say "Hey. We know you hurt too and we acknowledge that."
Maybe it'd help things all round if an initiative like that was in existence. As if perhaps by giving them this, they'd have more in them to continue to give to the parents at the centre of the situation. Maybe not. But just maybe. And surely "maybe" is worth it.
Think I am just spent, energy wise, and being jolly ('tis the season, I'm told) is just not up there on my list of must-do's.
Don't get me wrong, I am very happy about the pending move. I'm delighted that Steve, the LGBB and I get to spend our first uninterrupted (relatively - boom-tish) Christmas Day together because all the obligatories will be over with by Christmas Eve. And then we get to do what we want, with whomever we want. It's very refreshing.
But then, I also do still wonder how it's received. It must be difficult for the gingham-and-baked-pies set to accept that we don't want the traditional sit-down Shitmas fare anymore. I received the SANDS newsletter a couple of weeks ago. In it, one of the tips for surviving Shitmas was to know that it was okay to feel like you needed to break from old traditions. That we should do what we needed to do to get through this season, and that it was equally okay to allow others to do what they wanted/needed as well. Very sound advice.
Still, I wonder though: shouldn't this kind of advice via newsletters be going to the families of the family who's lost a baby, however long ago? It's just the one minor failing in this particular part of the process for mine. That I can read and be comforted that *I* am not alone, that my partner and my children are not alone. But what of the grannies, grandpas, aunts, uncles, cousins? Maybe they feel alone - as if they are the only ones trying to grapple with their various feelings surrounding the loss of a family member they never met. My sister never saw Ellanor. I wonder how that haunts her and if it does. I know it impacted me. But it's just how it happened.
So why can't there be some sort of register that your address goes on, as part of a very infrequent mailing list (even twice a year would be good), where the organisation sends out little beacons to those people too? Not just reminders about how to keep the continuity of care for the bereaved parents and brothers or sisters or subsequent children of the baby who's died. But also, I dunno... sort of like a shout-out to say "Hey. We know you hurt too and we acknowledge that."
Maybe it'd help things all round if an initiative like that was in existence. As if perhaps by giving them this, they'd have more in them to continue to give to the parents at the centre of the situation. Maybe not. But just maybe. And surely "maybe" is worth it.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
And the gobsmacking coincidences continue
I was talking to the Dear Friend today and she told me that Ellanor's doctor - the one who oversaw the team looking after her - was now her son's doctor.
To say that I am floored at realising the chances of this is an understatement. Firstly, the guy changed hospitals from the one where Ella called "home" to the one where the Dear Friend's little guy is now watched over protectively, after serving 15 years in that job. Ok, so the chances could be perceived to be quite high that two of our children could have the same doc, given the fact that there are only four (is it four, or maybe three?) neonatal ICU's in Victoria.
But still. There is more than one doctor in those NICU's! Apparently, with my blessing, she has approached him and mentioned her connection to him through Ellanor. And he remembers her *sigh* I suppose you would. I would like to think that a caring, dedicated doctor as lovely as he would not have to notch up too many lost lives in a career and so therefore recall the memorable cases that he could not save. If that didn't jog his memory, I'm sure remembering me (clamouring for exact details and testing him with zillions of questions and scenarios) would be fairly easy. I was in his face - without meaning to be - every day for the last two weeks there.
And what a career. God, when I think about what those people must see. These are the true angels on Earth. Aren't they not? Ellanor's last nurse had only come back on duty that very morning, from two weeks' leave, and her first patient goes and dies. She came to Ella's memorial, told me that she had planted a rose bush in a little spot in her garden where she has a few other rose bushes for babies who have died while under her care. I couldn't imagine at the time working in such an emotionally taxing position that you have created an eternal memorial for babies who aren't yours.
Beautiful, some people. It's this sort of thing that you have to keep remembering, when all the other dung gets flung about - it's really. So. Very. Unimportant.
To say that I am floored at realising the chances of this is an understatement. Firstly, the guy changed hospitals from the one where Ella called "home" to the one where the Dear Friend's little guy is now watched over protectively, after serving 15 years in that job. Ok, so the chances could be perceived to be quite high that two of our children could have the same doc, given the fact that there are only four (is it four, or maybe three?) neonatal ICU's in Victoria.
But still. There is more than one doctor in those NICU's! Apparently, with my blessing, she has approached him and mentioned her connection to him through Ellanor. And he remembers her *sigh* I suppose you would. I would like to think that a caring, dedicated doctor as lovely as he would not have to notch up too many lost lives in a career and so therefore recall the memorable cases that he could not save. If that didn't jog his memory, I'm sure remembering me (clamouring for exact details and testing him with zillions of questions and scenarios) would be fairly easy. I was in his face - without meaning to be - every day for the last two weeks there.
And what a career. God, when I think about what those people must see. These are the true angels on Earth. Aren't they not? Ellanor's last nurse had only come back on duty that very morning, from two weeks' leave, and her first patient goes and dies. She came to Ella's memorial, told me that she had planted a rose bush in a little spot in her garden where she has a few other rose bushes for babies who have died while under her care. I couldn't imagine at the time working in such an emotionally taxing position that you have created an eternal memorial for babies who aren't yours.
Beautiful, some people. It's this sort of thing that you have to keep remembering, when all the other dung gets flung about - it's really. So. Very. Unimportant.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Accountability
So's I don't forget, and also knowing that if I put this here I am answerable to not just myself if I "forget" or otherwise don't come back to these thoughts.
I found myself in the past couple of days wondering just how often my free thinking falls to Ella - about her time here, about our life since, about the various fallings-out and fracture and discord because of things unspoken with a few people - and why it is that my mind always wanders her way. They're not destructive thoughts, they are simply thoughts of her. Am I doing this to ensure I don't forget any of these things until I get them all down/out on paper into this book? I don't know how much or little I will end up needing, but I do believe that (as with her initial story which I wrote out in more detail about a year after she died, the one on her web pages) until I get it all out I will not forget and I will keep having these thought processes go trailing through my conscious mind and memory. It's almost as if a daily ritual has been necessary in order that I stay close to that time, until such time as I can clear enough space to let it all flow out into the written word.
The situation I recently found myself in, whereby I went waaaaay beyond this physical realm and which I don't entirely understand or comprehend*, has been struggling to keep itself real in my mind too. When I was in the thick of it, I was very clear and sure of what was happening (not entirely how it was happening, but seeing and trusting that this was what I was experiencing and watching it all unfold into realising my life's work as a sensitive). But now that I am hitting the ground again and trying to recoup my energy, I am finding it so hard to trust what happened. Far too trippy-sounding to explain to the general populus. But also infinitely more important than me getting on the Humble Horse and slinking off into the sunset. No, they won't let me do that. But I am still a very unwitting participant. Well, perhaps that is not so true now... if you stand in front of your husband apologising to him, through heavy tears that you can't help, that he has to "go through this with me" (ie. take up full responsibility for our child while I trip off into trippy head-land to assist with a soul trying to decide whether to take off for good or not) then really there isn't much closer to reality than you get. This IS my reality, I've had to accept. So, in that respect, no I'm not unwitting anymore. Hell, yes, it has kind of knocked the crap out of me. But it wasn't as scary as I imagined it might be, the first time I am consciously aware of going into the void somewhere with someone.
I didn't expect it. And I found I didn't actually have to do anything! I was merely the grounding energy, not the guiding force. It all worked through me (rather, she did - Ellanor) and I am pleasantly relieved about that. I helped, assisted, was there... but didn't have to consciously step up and say anything (much). What an ace job! Heh. Sort of like being a chair-spinner in an office who doesn't get noticed for not doing more work. I can do that!
*kind of like when I was a kid, lying on our trampoline in the dark night and staring up at the stars; it petrified me sometimes to think that we were a mere tiny planet, suspended in mid-atmosphere - what if we fell?? But fell where? It frightened me and was too huge for my mind to contemplate and this is how it is for me lately, with trying to decipher what is largely undecipherable and should just be left "a mystery" of sorts.
I found myself in the past couple of days wondering just how often my free thinking falls to Ella - about her time here, about our life since, about the various fallings-out and fracture and discord because of things unspoken with a few people - and why it is that my mind always wanders her way. They're not destructive thoughts, they are simply thoughts of her. Am I doing this to ensure I don't forget any of these things until I get them all down/out on paper into this book? I don't know how much or little I will end up needing, but I do believe that (as with her initial story which I wrote out in more detail about a year after she died, the one on her web pages) until I get it all out I will not forget and I will keep having these thought processes go trailing through my conscious mind and memory. It's almost as if a daily ritual has been necessary in order that I stay close to that time, until such time as I can clear enough space to let it all flow out into the written word.
The situation I recently found myself in, whereby I went waaaaay beyond this physical realm and which I don't entirely understand or comprehend*, has been struggling to keep itself real in my mind too. When I was in the thick of it, I was very clear and sure of what was happening (not entirely how it was happening, but seeing and trusting that this was what I was experiencing and watching it all unfold into realising my life's work as a sensitive). But now that I am hitting the ground again and trying to recoup my energy, I am finding it so hard to trust what happened. Far too trippy-sounding to explain to the general populus. But also infinitely more important than me getting on the Humble Horse and slinking off into the sunset. No, they won't let me do that. But I am still a very unwitting participant. Well, perhaps that is not so true now... if you stand in front of your husband apologising to him, through heavy tears that you can't help, that he has to "go through this with me" (ie. take up full responsibility for our child while I trip off into trippy head-land to assist with a soul trying to decide whether to take off for good or not) then really there isn't much closer to reality than you get. This IS my reality, I've had to accept. So, in that respect, no I'm not unwitting anymore. Hell, yes, it has kind of knocked the crap out of me. But it wasn't as scary as I imagined it might be, the first time I am consciously aware of going into the void somewhere with someone.
I didn't expect it. And I found I didn't actually have to do anything! I was merely the grounding energy, not the guiding force. It all worked through me (rather, she did - Ellanor) and I am pleasantly relieved about that. I helped, assisted, was there... but didn't have to consciously step up and say anything (much). What an ace job! Heh. Sort of like being a chair-spinner in an office who doesn't get noticed for not doing more work. I can do that!
*kind of like when I was a kid, lying on our trampoline in the dark night and staring up at the stars; it petrified me sometimes to think that we were a mere tiny planet, suspended in mid-atmosphere - what if we fell?? But fell where? It frightened me and was too huge for my mind to contemplate and this is how it is for me lately, with trying to decipher what is largely undecipherable and should just be left "a mystery" of sorts.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Homework
Class, I want you to watch this video and spot for me the following:
• The Ugly Dave Gray impersonator
• The cringe-worthy slow-mo' dance move (as opposed to the other cringe-worthy 80's dance moves)
• The spot where the sound man accidentally leans on the dial and cranks up the speed of the music
• The suits dancing cheek to cheek (that is, butt cheek)
Bonus: count the number of chicken dance moves and score extra marks. (Note that this should not be confused for the monkey dance move, which is similar but has more hip-swaying with bowed legs)
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Mistress of Miserable
Note to self: You're fooling nobody but yourself if you think the "Look! Scraps wants to say hello to Santa" trick is going to raise a smile. Or even a grimace that could pass as a smile.
Behold, the moment the LGBB paused for breath in between gutteral wails and hysterical shimmying to get off the scary man's knee. Do you see Christmas in a child's eyes in this photo? No? Me either. But shit, I am starting to compile some pretty bloody funny moment-in-time yearly snaps with old Mr Claus, if the first two years are anything to set my expectations by. And at least she's looking at the camera this year. Pity Santa was looking at me.
I'm impressed that even when upset, she still manages to get her "I am SO not amused" lips down pat. She's such a consistent li'l trooper. And one day, so help her, she will finally teach her mother to stop setting her up predictably like this.*
Oh, and by the way, just a tip - don't be gripping your daughter so tight when lifting her that you take a decent chunk of his "beard" and, well, basically almost ruin Christmas for approximately 30 children. It was close, but the old man saved it.
* Not if I can help it, she won't - I'll be making her do stuff like this for as looooong as I can carry her and physically put her there muuuuahahahahaaaaaaaa *wrings hands*
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