Revelations 101

It has been an interesting week to say the least. Had a lovely dinner out with a few of the girls which culminated in a conversation which I found intriguing at best, puzzling at worst. This lovely lady is someone I have known for a few years, but not well. We cross paths on a regular basis but have only really socialised a couple of times. You know, someone you know but don't know well... Somehow the chat swung around to her impression of me. All the usual stuff... strong, outspoken, a fighter/advocate/zealot... but then she throws in: wait for it,

insecure?

Now I must admit this one puzzled me. Don't get me wrong, I am as flawed as the next person, and yes have my vulnerabilities and weak spots, but insecure? To me this represents self-doubt, a lack of confidence, uncertainty... not attributes I see as a big part of my character. Hell, I screw up - monumentally sometimes - but I usually acknowledge the stuff ups and will apologise when in the wrong. Hmmm, insecure, nope don't see it. Luckily the other couple of ladies know me very well, and basically disagreed with her perception of moi, so at least I am sure it is not something I am missing seeing within myself.

Then we went with friends to our little rural show the next day. Saw a lot of locals, managed to briefly catch up with a lot of friends I haven't had time to say boo to of late, and touched base quickly with a dear mate and her other half who were working a stall. Was dang cold so we gave up the idea of hovering for the fireworks and instead opted for some steaks, a roaring fire, good company and fine wine.

Big Boy later brings up a conversation he had with said dear friend at the show. Apparently she is confused about my coping mechanisms with all the crap that has hit our family recently. Confessed she thought I would be wanting to unload, talk, vent on a regular basis. That I would need my girlfriends to debrief with.

To be honest I couldn't think of anything worse. Is it just me? Am I the only woman in creation who would prefer to deal with the situation, get on with it, and then try to forget about it for a while? Last thing I want to do is re-hash the whole tiresome debacle again and again. I am blessed in my partner, and as he is a part of the whole thing isn't it normal that he and I would discuss the issues as they arise, then put them to bed?

I have no choice but to go over events following the professional complaints process, maybe that is why I do not have a need to discuss them with mates? Far better to chill with a glass of Marlborough white watching trash TV than to be treading water in a sea of emotion constantly. Sorry, just not my style to wallow. Well, most days anyway.

Some days I wonder just how well people really know me...

*#!@%*# - Damn, damn, damn.

Sitting here trying to stay calm,

 *cool blue water*cool blue water*

waiting for 3.30pm to click around. After nearly thirteen years of fighting it, it looks like today may be D-day. My GP has had me monitoring my blood pressure. I skipped a few days due to boys both sick at home (have been going in to my local pharmacy to have it checked), but today made it in at lunch time.

158/100...then 149/103. As I had to fast for blood tests this morning I decided (yes, against advice) to come home, eat, drink, rest and see what happened before calling doctor.

Now:
159/95...then 163/97. Pulse rate is elevated too. Damn, crap, poo, bum, damn. Yes, I repeated myself.

GP appointment 3.30pm and as I always have white collar hypertension it will probably break their stoopid machine.

Posting here as do not want to tell people irl, nor facebook - which is irl. Not enough people here to cross over, and if you are and you tell anyone you will be personally responsible for another BP hike  - so DON'T!

Friggin old bloody age *mutter mutter*.


I was told this would happen in my first pregnancy. The BP issues were mine, not pre-eclampsia, and it was a foregone conclusion it would hit. Mind you, the BP specialist called it for earlier, so I should be grateful I guess.

At least I should be rid of the headache and dizziness of the last few days.

STOP!

The world - I WANT TO GET OFF!

Now!

Mother or Martyr?

Following on from my last dummy spit post, I thought I would reveal a little more about our lives. We run a retail store, Big Boy and I. Thus, this time of year is more manic than any other period. We work six days a week, 16 hour days are not unusual for at least one if not both of us (luckily, I can do some  of the admin things from home). We do not see each other, we rarely have family time. We also tend to find the customers a little less tolerant at Christmas than usual. A perfect example of this occurred yesterday when Big Boy received a phone call complaining about a product. Conversation (which I could hear as the customer was screaming) went along the lines of this:

Big Boy: "Hello, **** ******." (Insert our business name)
Customer 1: "Yes, this is such and such. I purchased this widget from you 6 weeks ago and it is faulty."
Big Boy: "Ah, Mr  such and such, from *****, I remember you. How can I help?  Can you explain to me what is happening when you turn it on."
Customer 1: "It is faulty, I want a refund."
Big Boy: "If you could explain what the problem is maybe I can help resolve it without you having to send the product back." (Customer is other side of country.)
Customer 1 screaming: "I know my rights. I've looked at the consumer affairs website. I want a refund."
Big Boy: "Sir, if you would please calm down, I am trying to help."
Customer 1: "I am a member of the ********* Society over here and I am telling everyone you sell dodgy goods and are frauds!"

Now this went on for another five minutes more until finally Big Boy calmed him and he explained the issue. And guess what? Product wasn't faulty, user was!

Which is why Big Boy and not Madmother handles all the customers. I would have hung up much earlier when the swearing started. Did the dickhead customer apologise? Hell, no. They never do. And we would have at least one phone call and one in store EVERY day over the Christmas period. Big Boy is amazing. In the eight years we have had the business he has only thrown one tosser out of the store. He is polite, calm, rational - then he comes home and vents to me!

But it is this pressure-filled fast pace of life which makes me do my drama queen bit. You know, the "look at moi... look at MOI!" Posts. I love to blog but being a mother means my needs go to the bottom of the list. We all do it. And if I don't see any comments I do tend to do a why bother to myself.

Yes, it is very princessy, yes a bit delicate little petal too, but hey... even a Madmother has her tiny foibles...

The Differences.

Yesterday we went to a show generously sponsored by local businesses for special kids, their families and siblings. As we sat in the huge auditorium, the onslaught began. Palms sweating, knees jigging, head swivelling, he glanced all around. "Will it get very dark?" Will it get very loud?" ""Can I have my ear plugs now, all the noise is giving me a headache." It was the usual buzz when you get a large group of children and adults in a space. A constant hum with a few louder squeals, nothing intolerable for the average joe. He is not your average joe. So, ear plugs were handed over, questions were answered, hands were held, nerves were soothed. And then the show started. A magic show, and one well above average in performance. His glorious amber eyes lit up, darting, absorbing all, his hands applauded, his voice rang out in glee, his whole body jumped with excitement. Stress turned to joy. Pure ecstasy.

For the first time I witnessed him speechless after he asked for the magician's autograph in a voice hushed and echoing with reverence.

But those moments in the build up once again pulled away the blinkers from my eyes and glaringly revealed the differences between him and so many others. It is at times like this all my dislike of autism rears up, and I hate what it does to my son. Then I feel ashamed, how can I loathe what is such an integral part of him, and brings so much good as well as bad?

The last words go to him (and me):
"I do not like new experiences, but I feel so stupid afterwards." I often do not like autism, my son, but when I look at what an incredible young man you are becoming, I feel so stupid afterwards.