FYBF - The Early Hours

I have no idea what the theme will be for today's FYBF. I have no inkling of what I should be writing of. It is 4.30 in the morning and I am up insolently insomniacing again.




I do not suffer from this as frequently as I once did, or maybe it is a lull in my slackening sleep cycle... a minute respite in the big scheme of my life? But it does not matter, for here and now I am awake once more.

I am not here often nowadays. The driven need for the written word has left me; well, that and the fact that I am quite aware of the poisonous eyes who peruse these pages, yearning for a tainted titbit, a morsel of information they can take and twist, a last minute grasp of evil to be used before we leave the school by which we are connected.
 *Waves* Grins* Laughs at how powerless and small these amoeba women are*

My life and the joy in it must seriously frustrate the fuck out of those two.

Life moves on.

It is 4.30am.

My younger son, for all the turmoil of this year and the actions of those who should know better, aced his Year 7 NAPLAN. Seriously ACED. My older son is blossoming more and more, thriving in the hothouse nature of his small private high school, the nurturing, student-focused, positive atmosphere suiting him to a tee. And he has a lead role in the local drama group's play. My son with ASD has a LEAD ROLE IN A PROFESSIONAL PRODUCTION.

I still miss my mum.

Oh, and my body is aging faster than my paper years. Which is why I wrote this:

*Madmother Ode*

I went off to me doctor

To get me bits all right

She prodded and she poked

Those bits all outa sight

Made me go have pictures

Of inside and of out

Drained me of my blood stuff

(All Twilight fans be proud)

Then she sat me down hard

Solemn and so glum

Told me I was broken

And need to stop me fun

Revealed my knees are dodgy

Some new ones needed soon

And no more derby dancing…

Well, that threw me into gloom

She hauled me off my grog too

Many, many months ago

But whilst my liver smiles more

There’s still a way to go

But I ain’t some little fairy

Not delicate and such

Not gonna go so quietly

It’s time to make a fuss

So, knees just suck it up loves

And liver, you’ll be fine

And if the pain is too much

I’ll just increase the wine!

~Copyright Madmother~

Apologies to those who already read it on FB.

Enough of the drivel. It is now nearly 5am and I am waiting for the sun to rise. We need to order water. We need to go to work. We need to ready the boys for the last day of the second last term of the year.

That is all folks. Toodles!

It's Gonna Be Another One of Those Days...

3 am mornings are not my idea of getting a head start on the day. Think the world would miss me if I closed the door and slept the day away? Oh crap, you mean they ain't old enough yet to drive themselves to school? Damn. Forgot about that...

When did I start rising

with the sun?

I have never been a morning person, not even in toddlerhood. My mother takes great delight in telling all and sundry about her constant battles to get me to sleep (she is an early to bed, early to rise advocate), and her endless mornings trying to get me to wake. I was one of those kids whose parents stumble past their bedroom on a wee hours wee run to find said child with torch under the covers still reading. At 2am.

My body clock was thus perfectly synchronised for my teenage years and twenties, even into my thirties. Late to bed, late to rise, late for work, sleep in the compactus and hope no-one went looking for files (have you seen those massive metal filing monsters? I could have lost weight in a very dramatic fashion, not that I needed to in those days). Ah yes, the party days. I was known at Uni for stumbling into my 9am lecture, complete in the black lycra and leather (photographic evidence here) and promptly falling asleep in the back row. And snoring.

Marriage, babies, well the broken sleep was not pleasant but the late night/very early morning feeds... pfft, no worries! Was not so impressed with having to wake at a decent time to feed the little buggers again, but followed the rule of when they sleep, you sleep and revelled in the daytime napping.

But my forties seem determined to change me into an early morning person. In the last six months I have awoken when the sun comes up (as early as 4.30am in Queensland) more often than not. Something is going seriously skewiff with my system! I am not a happy morning person, noooooo. I am a very grumpy, mumbling sort of early riser, the type that people avoid as they wander aimlessly around in pyjamas muttering curses under their unbrushed teeth bad breath. To make matters worse I do not drink coffee. Or tea. And it feels unseemly to imbibe coke at 5am, just not right, you know?

Something is very wrong in my world, and I think God is laughing at me! I know my mother definitely is... Payback is a bitch, right?