Weekend Grateful: Special Occasions and Bling!

Yadda, yadda, it is time for Weekend Grateful!

Melbourne Cup lunch 2011 - Madmother & Big Boy

WHAT a WEEK! Tuesday Melbourne Cup. Thursday my birthday. Manic weekend coming up and my head is exploding from looking at children's illustrator sites!

Whose bloody thirteen year old writes a kid's book and needs an illustrator anyway? Hmm? Okay, so mine does. Crap.

Bloody kids.

Bloody amazing kids.

But back to the topic at hand... This week, as mentioned, was my birthday. And Melbourne Cup. Not on the same day, but as we are on the home run to the shop closing we could only have one day together and I chose to celebrate on the Tuesday as it was close enough.

Beauty & The Beasts

Thirteen of us trooped off to a local restaurant. Three course meal, fashion show, prizes of which our group won many, lots of laughter and fun and just an all round wonderful time!

Two gorgeous girls - and they are as LOUD as me!

It was the BEST Melbourne Cup day I have ever had the privilege to enjoy!

Recognise the hot one in the middle?

And then on my BIRTHDAY I was very spoilt (even though we had to work). We had a family dinner at a wonderful local restaurant - though the one we intended to go to was closed, and of course Big Boy, keeping to his record, had NOT rung to check. We were just lucky the other choice was not closed too!

This weekend we are off to another friend's 40th (actually have two on the same night), and as our babysitter fell through last minute, I am also very grateful to good friends who are having my boys for sleepovers!

Oh, and the bling bit?

You like?

So, I am very grateful for the fun and celebrations, friends and family. And I must also thank those who made this possible - the two who sought to make my life bad and yet have made it so much better than ever! Karma is a bitch, eh? Very grateful for Karma...

Weekend Grateful? Hell yeah!

Smiling Through the Tears.

I found something the other day. I was at Wise Woman's house doing some of the dreaded sorting one has to do after losing someone near and dear, when I needed a notepad to jot down some info. Found one in her telephone drawer. Opened it, turned over the few little pages she had used.

Now, my Mum was a bit of a wowser when it comes to drinking. Not a teetotaller, no. But definitely a little prim and proper on the topic of alcohol consumption.

So we never really discussed the drinking habits of a Madmother. I thought I hid it well - you know, the wine for the whine, good job grog...

Obviously not.

This was what greeted me on page three:

Didn't know whether to laugh or cry. So I laughed. Because that is what she would want me to do.

I miss you, you Wise Woman from whom know secrets were hidden or desires masked...

Sunday Sessions - Oh, My Legs...

On Sundays Thea

pops two favourite songs onto her blog.

An oldie but a goldie.

And a newbie, fresh off the charts.

Now, not only did I do derby training on Thursday night, I then spent eight hours walking around Seaworld in the heat yesterday. (See previous post for obvious reason - and add in three extras so had five manic boys meandering with Big Boy and myself). Add in an hour's swimming (okay, fifteen minutes swimming, and the other forty-five lying on a banana lounge looking cool, drooling over the cocktails wafting past) and you have serious pain. I have muscles in my legs that I didn't know I had. And they hurt. A lot.

And so at least one of my Sunday Sessions choices obviously must represent my agony situation.

Now be warned, this will be one of those annoying songs that sticks in your head for days. But I do love this accoustic version...



And for my newie, well, that was hard, but here it is:



For all those who are outside the square, celebrate your uniqueness and the pride of being AND liking exactly who you are right now! Mwah from the mistress of madness, your very own...

I had a whole other post a comin'...

But after a wonderful, therapeutic, soul cleansing day I just think I'll pop this in:



Life is good, new people on the horizon of friendship, darkness dispensed. And finally  the truth is breaking through the bulldust. No more to be said other than karma is a wonderful thing.

Still chuckling away here about some of the stories... Wow, I am so much more cleverer than I ever knew.

The God of Little Ironies - A Mother's Day Special Event

i·ro·ny (r-n, r-)

n. pl. i·ro·nies
1.
a. The use of words to express something different from and often opposite to their literal meaning.
b. An expression or utterance marked by a deliberate contrast between apparent and intended meaning.
c. A literary style employing such contrasts for humorous or rhetorical effect.
2.
a. Incongruity between what might be expected and what actually occurs: "Hyde noted the irony of Ireland's copying the nation she most hated" (Richard Kain).
b. An occurrence, result, or circumstance notable for such incongruity.
3. Dramatic irony.
4. Socratic irony.

Someone once sent me this sweet little interpretation of how God allocates children. It is called:

"The Special Mother"
 by Erma Bombeck

Most women become mothers by accident, some by choice, a few by social pressure and a couple by habit. Many become mothers of handicapped children. Did you ever wonder how these children are chosen?
Somehow I visualise, God, hovering over the earth selecting his instruments for propagation with great care and deliberation. As he observes, He instructs His Angels to takes notes in a giant ledger:
"Armstrong, Beth, son, patron saint, Matthew"

Brown Marjorie, daughter, patron saint, Cecelia

Rutledge, Carrie, twin boys, patron saint...give her Gerard

He's used to profanity"

Finally, He passes a name to an Angel and smiles, "Give her a handicapped child". The Angel is curious, "why this one God, she is so happy." "Exactly. Could I give this child to a mother who does not know laughter? That would be cruel."

"But does she have patience?" asks the Angel.

"I don't want her to have too much patience, or else she'll drown in a sea of self-pity and despair. Once the shock and resentment wear off she will handle it. I watched her today. She has that sense of self and independence so rare and so necessary in a mother. You see, the child I am going to give her has his own world, she has to make him live in her world, and that's not going to be easy."

"But Lord, I don't think she believes in you."

God smiles, "No matter I can fix that. This one is so perfect. She has just enough selfishness."

The angel gasps, "Selfishness is that a virtue?"

God nods. "If she cannot separate herself from her child occasionally, she will never survive. Yes, here is a woman whom I will bless with a child that is less than perfect. She doesn't realise it yet, but she is to be envied. She will never take for granted a spoken word. She will never consider a step ordinary. When her child says "Mummy" for the first time, she will be witness to a miracle and see will see it as few people ever see my creations. I will permit her to see clearly the things I see - cruelty, ignorance, prejudice - and allow her to rise above them. She will never be alone. I will be by her side every minute of every day of her life because she is doing my work as surely as she is here my by side."

"And what about the Patron Saint?" asks the Angel.

God smiles. "A mirror will suffice."

Altogether now: awwwwwwww. Can someone please bring me a bucket? Come on. You have to be kidding, right? Last time I looked in the mirror it almost cracked under the strain!

I have decided that my God has a seriously twisted sense of humour.

And to that end I have *ahem* reworked the piece above. It is aptly named:

"The Mad Mother"
by me

Most women become mothers by design, some after a contraception stuff up, a few when their biological clocks start screaming at them, and a couple because, well, they really shouldn't have had the last few drinks at the pub.

In my more delusional moments, I swear I envision God stroking his long white beard, mumbling and cursing over the earth selecting his latest breeders with great glee and snickering. (Sometimes I even see him as an Aussie God, Akubra perched on the long, gray hair, Bond's singlet stained with sweat as he mutters "Bloody Hell"  as his calloused fingers run down the breeding ledger. Picking his stock with an eye on winning best in show.) But back to this ditty, as he plays God He instructs His Personal Angel (PA) to post His plotting success rate on His giant public blog.

The God Blog:


"Armstrong, Beth, toss her a boy, patron saint, Bluey, he likes a blonde.


Brown, Marjorie, she'll have a pink one, patron saint, Harriet, she can handle the nervy ones.


Thompson, Karen, twin boys to join the other two sets. Jeez, IVF is a wonderful thing, patron saint...give her Johnno. He's used to profanity and that sheila swears like a trooper. Can't really blame her, I'd be cursing too with that lot. Six under four, I think she's after her own reality show."

 Finally, He passes a name to the P Angel and throws his head back with a loud laugh, "Give her this child, a different type of kid." The Angel thinks to himself "Well, He's finally lost it this time" but keeps it under his hat and instead diplomatically asks, 

"Why this one God, look at her. She's surrounded by friends, life of the party. She is loud, funny, a babe in total control herself."

"Exactly. Teach her a lesson to have a kid who hates being in crowds. 'Bout time she settled down a bit! All this running around partying hard. "


"But does she have patience?" asks the Angel.


"Not a bit. Wants it all, that one. Well, she'll get it all, just not in the way she thinks. No more cranked up music playing day and night, this kid'll freak out at any loud noises. And just to serve her right for pumping out the Midnight Oil to that poor babe in her belly, I'll give her one that dances like Peter Garrett.  Hell, she probably won't even notice cause she herself dances like Garrett  after a few too many vinos. With this little one's sensory issues it'll be the closest she gets enjoying that roaring rock for quite a while, but all those years her mother told her she would lose her hearing have helped to train her for the endless hours of screaming meltdowns." 

"Oh Lord, don't you think you are being a bit tough on the poor broad."

God gives His PA a wolfish smile, "Nuh, all the times she blasphemed and blamed me for her inadequacies, this one'll teach her. Put her anger to good use, fighting the system to try and get help. Might teach her to appreciate me a bit more, hell she may even start going to church! And because she has always been an ornery one who prides herself on her brutal honesty, I'm gonna  give her a kid who is more self-focused and black and white in opinion than she could ever be. She'll learn the value of compromise and choosing her battles the hard way now."


The angel gasps, "Does she have anything going for her?"


God ponders a bit, stroking that long beard dripping with yesterdays luncheon soup. "Stubbornness. She will fight for him to the death, never take no for an answer, be loathe to accept any doctor's dire declarations. And grit. She'll be able to survive not having a moment to herself, not even to shower, she will never be allowed a minute alone. For someone who loved to sit and read a good book in solitude this will really suck. It'll piss her off, but she'll get through it."

"What poor sucker then for her Patron Saint?" asks the Angel.


God smirks. "She doesn't need one. When her feet hit the floor of a morning even Satan trembles and says "Oh hell, she's awake!"

For all the Mums of the *different* kids:

 

I am immersed in sadness, so this is a trivial post..

Not to belittle or minimise my last post I feel an intense need to post some pictures to try and dispel the cloud of despair surrounding this house. So, this is just for me and mine, and you if you need some light...


I want one day to sit by this:

Sipping this:

Watching this:

Looking like this:

Okay, not really my style. Can't manage to pull off that swishy, classy look. It'd be more like this:

December 29: Laugh #best09 Gwen Bell

What was your biggest belly laugh of the year?

Gwen Bell 09

We laugh. A lot. Even when the laughter had diminished in this year of drama, we still laugh more than the average family.

So it was not easy to pick just one moment. Then I remembered: the time it took us over fifteen minutes to stop the hysteria. Tears were rolling down our cheeks from the hilarity of the reactions, Boy 2 and I gasping for breath, unable to stop laughing to draw in oxygen. We could not look at each other at all without getting more carried away.

So, what was the catalyst for all this mirth?

Boy 2 and I were lying on my bed waiting for Boy 1 in the bathroom, and Big Boy who was feeding the tropical fish. I turned to Boy 2 and said: "Hah, just let one rip!" He laughed and then replied: "So did I, and mine was well brewed!" We started to giggle, looked at each other, and decided to blend them. Picture this:
Boy 2 and myself madly using our arms as paddles, mixing, merging the fumes. In walks Boy 1 from ensuite. Boy 2 and I pause, not daring to glance at each other. "Holy hell, what is that terrible smell?" Boy 1 grabs his nose, gagging, frantically fanning his face with his hands. Big boy then chooses this moment to walk in. He pales, turns and walks back to doorway. "What on earth is going on in here, it stinks!" By this time Boy 2 and I can barely gasp for air we are laughing so hard. We both stammer out: "We blended our silent but deadlies..." in between trying to breath, hysterical giggles, and now frantically flapping sheets to clear the air. Boy 1 joins in the mirth, Big Boy remains in the doorway, slowly backing out as the fumes spread his way, hand over eyes as he slowly shakes his head from side to side. "I don't know who is worse - you or Boy 2. You are both twisted."

Never claimed to be a delicate little petal, did I. Pull my finger is still one of my favourite lines...

You Just Have to Read this:

Sent from a good friend via e-mail, I laughed so much I nearly wet myself.

Though, maybe it is just my warped sense of humour...

WHY WOMEN SHOULDN'T TAKE MEN SHOPPING

After I retired, my wife insisted that I accompany her on her trips to Target. Unfortunately, like most men, I found shopping boring and preferred to get in and get out. Equally unfortunate, my wife is like most women - she loves to browse.

Yesterday my dear wife received the following letter from the local Target.



Dear Mrs. Hudson,


Over the past six months, your husband has caused quite a commotion in our store. We cannot tolerate this behaviour and have been forced to ban both of you from the store. Our complaints against your husband, Mr J.Hudson are listed below and are documented by our video surveillance cameras.


1. June 15: Took 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in other people's carts when they weren't looking.


2. July 2: Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at 5-minute intervals.


3. July 7: He made a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the women’s restroom.


4. July 19: Walked up to an employee and told her in an official voice, 'Code 3 in Housewares, get on it right away! This caused the employee to leave her assigned station and receive a reprimand from her Supervisor that in turn resulted with a union grievance, causing management to lose time and costing the company money.


5. August 4: Went to the Service Desk and tried to put a bag of M&Ms on lay-by.


6. August 14: Moved a 'CAUTION - WET FLOOR' sign to a carpeted area.


7. August 15: Set up a tent in the camping department and told the children shoppers he'd invite them in if they would bring pillows and blankets from the bedding department to which twenty children obliged.

8. August 23: When a clerk asked if they could help him he began crying and screamed, 'why can't you people just leave me alone?’ Police were called.


9. September 4: Looked right into the security camera and used it as a mirror while he picked his nose.


10. September 10: While handling guns in the hunting department, he asked the clerk where the antidepressants were.


11. October 3: Darted around the store suspiciously while loudly humming the 'Mission Impossible' theme.


12. October 6: in the auto department, he practiced his ‘Madonna look' by using different sizes of funnels.


13. October 18: Hid in a clothing rack and when people browsed through, yelled ‘PICK ME! PICK ME!'


14. October 21: When an announcement came over the loud speaker, he assumed a foetal position and screamed ‘OH NO! IT'S THOSE VOICES AGAIN!'


And last, but not least:


15. October 23: Went into a fitting room, shut the door, waited awhile, and then yelled very loudly, 'Hey! There's no toilet paper in here.


One of the clerks passed out.

Just had to share!
 
 
 
 
 
 

Early Morning Rambling

It has been a lovely few days. I spent most of Thursday with my Mum. Well in reality I have spent most of Sunday, Monday and Thursday with my Mum, and to able to say that makes my heart overflow with gratitude, love and joy. She turned 90 last Monday. This time 1 year ago she was in hospital, had yet another fracture in her vertebrae, and the bladder tumour had just been found. And the powers that be (we now know them as the powers that be so wrong) decided she was inoperable. Not the tumour, my mother. She was sent home to die slowly, inch by inch, each day losing a little more of herself, until in February she had a massive bleed, rushed off in ambulance to closer hospital, new specialist, new hope, and now renewed life. Cancer free. I am deliriously happy to be with her, to be able to be with her and not crying, leaning over a plot in the ground. She is a pure bright joyous light in my life.

So after a Mum week, a friend came over on Friday to give me a wonderful massage and some interesting conversation. She had given me the voucher for my birthday last year, but had to also give me a swift kick up the backside to get me organised. I always feel guilty taking time for myself when there is so much that needs to be done. But it was absolutely fantastic! And interesting to hear someone else's opinions on certain situations. I have finally learnt my lesson, I did not instigate or open up any of the doors to the disappointments of the last few months, I merely listened. And felt such relief that I am not alone in my perception of some as having no ability to keep confidences, and their desperation to be liked by all and be a part of the "cool gang". Phew. It is obvious to others, and they too shake their heads at her lack of discretion. Thank God.

And now we have a manic weekend hitting. Off to get groceries this morning, ready for DH's BBQ tonight, then off to skating this afternoon, and then soccer presentation in the morning and off down the coast tomorrow afternoon! Catching up with an old schoolfriend I haven't seen in about 5 years. Better than the last gap, that was 20 years, lol. Life is busy. Life is good. I can float to the surface now the dead weights have been cut away. No more frantically gasping for air.

A Little Laughter for Melissa.

One of my friends needs a little laughter in her life. This is for her.

What did one ocean say to the other ocean?

Nothing, they just waved.

What do you call a dog with no hind legs and steel testicles?

"Sparky"

What do you call a man who has lost 99% of his brain?

A widower.

How do you make a handkerchief dance?

Put a little boogie in it.

What do you call a guy who sticks his right arm in a shark's mouth?

Lefty!

How does a high school boy propose marriage?

"You're having a what?!?"

Did you hear about the dyslexic devil worshiper?

He sold his soul to Santa!

How are a chicken and a grape alike?

They are both purple... except for the chicken.

Yes, they are bad and sad, and hopefully made you giggle. Just a little.

Bringing back the sun.

Glitter and be gay

That's the part I play.

Here I am, unhappy chance.

Forced to bend my soul

To a sordid role,

Victimized by bitter, bitter circumstance.

Richard Wilbur

I do not remember the day fun left. I certainly cannot recall at what time laughter ceased resonating through this house. When did we stop laughing at life, choosing instead to entangle ourselves in the politics and drama of other peoples' trivia? There are so many suffering real hardship, it is quite embarrassing to admit to being caught up in what amounts to a high school popularity contest. And grounding when you look around at those friends struggling yet still managing to retain wit and whimsy. For all my flaws, a lack of humour was never before one of them.

It was not so very long ago I was running around after my little boys, giggling hysterically being the Mummy Monster holding the secret smelly sock weapon. Now all I seem to do is nag, lecture and worry what actions others are plotting. But I made a decision today: I am going to take back control and relaunch our life of laughter. I am walking away from the small town trash and embracing all that is good in my life. My children, my husband, my mother and my wonderful friends. Be they old or new or, as someone I adore said, imaginary internet friends, I am very grateful to have them in my life. So, to all of you out there in interweb land, I send you wishes of joy.

Oh, and bring back the smiles, I sure as hell intend to. Or at least die trying.

D-Day has Arrived...

... and we are organised, and ready to run. A small group of Mums has organised the trivia and auction fundraiser for our school. Four of us, with myself at the helm, have been running around begging and pleading for donations, wrapping prizes, organising advertising, the venue, the mc, seating, collecting money, drinking wine, laughing and much more. We sold out a week ago. It just shows you with the right mix of positive people you can achieve so much, and avoid the politics, bitching and bagging. It is not about accolades, it IS about helping our children! And drinking wine, laughing and having fun with a great bunch of women.

I think all bases have been covered. The prizes are incredible, the auction items worth thousands, just have to hope people come with deep pockets filled to the brim!

Tally Ho - off we go now!