Sleepless in... well it sure ain't Seattle!

It is 4.44am here. I have had about a combined hour of dozing if I am lucky. Yay me! Well, actually this one can be chalked down to Boy 1. He was having one of our rare sleep n the big bed with Mum nights. Except he did not sleep. Finally, at 3.30am I kicked him off to his own bed, but I am now past any hope of getting to sleep. And my own sleep issues have meant this is the last thing I needed in my exhausted state.

My mind is ticking over events of the last few months. Today I sat on the floor of our bedroom and sobbed my heart out. I cried for Lori and Lulu, for the horrific disaster unfolding along the East coast of our beautiful country, and for me. I have not really cried since Mum died, it is like I am frozen in coping land and the tears are locked deep within my icy heart. This is not good, I know this is not healthy but it seems to be the way I am made.

My tears were released because I lost my engagement ring. My fingers have swollen in the humidity and for the first time ever I had great trouble getting the ring off my finger (I don't sleep in it). So last week I had to use loads of hand cream to get it off and I wrapped it in some tissue to clean. And then was distracted and forgot about it. Stupid, eh?

And of course, the tissue was thrown away. And the rubbish had been collected. Now I know, as Big Boy repeated time and time again as he held me sobbing, enclosed tightly in his loving arms, it is only an object.

But to me it is a solid reminder of so much. Of the love I have for my husband. Of the joy of our wedding. Of Wise Woman who was with us when it was being designed, and without whom it would not be at all (yes, I threw a litle tanty at a shopping centre - think this will have to be my Memoir Monday this week).

It triggered thoughts of Lori, burying her soul mate she was meant to grow old with, of my sister who only ever wanted to get married and have kids and wasn't given the time to, and of course of Lulu, saying farewell to her sibling and the bewilderment of loss.

And so I sat on the carpet and let the pain consume me. I am still raw. And tired. Really could have used some healing sleep to allow me to escape reality for a little. Obviously not in the plans of the higher gods tonight, or should I say today as the sun rises.

We found it. The ring. In the wastepaper basket beside my desk - the one bin I had not emptied before the rubbish was collected. Sitting on the bottom underneath the tissue. But by then, although relieved, it was no longer the issue and the pain had been allowed to escape my iron-clad stronghold and it may never be locked away again. I do not know right now if that is a good or bad thing, but time will tell. And to be honest I feel it is a little self-indulgent to even be posting about it when others are facing such immense loss.

A sombre, tired, emotionally drained,

Welcome to Polyvore! Testing 1, 2... Oh Hell, whom I kidding?

Welcome to Polyvore! by madmother featuring michael kors tops

2011 A Madmother Odyssey

The Big Event.

The countdown has begun. It is two weeks and two days until my firstborn baby becomes a teenager. How did this happen so fast? And how do I stop it? I don't wanna have a big boy, I wanna have my baby stay little! *Sob*.

But the dilemma this year is what to do for his big day. Thirteen. Man, that sounds grown up. Thirteen. And you'll never guess what this quirky, amazing, wonderful young man has asked for this year. Remember, he is a product of a derbying, slightly off center, definitely out there Madmother and a very geeky, sci-fi fan, honours degree in physics, maths and computer science Big Boy: in other words he was bound to be unique.

Any thoughts? I'll give you a hint. He bought The Crystal Bible at age five (no - we were not alternative people at all), sleeps with his four amethysts and two fluorite crystals under his pillow each night, recent reading includes Astral Travel for Beginners, The Autism Prophecies and The Psychic Bible...

No it is not World Peace. He asked for that from Santa a few years back. Nor is it a cure for cancer, he is going to work on that after he completes his studies, he tells me.

The time machine theory has fallen by the wayside for now (could have something to do with his mother's blank looks when he starts on about the time-space continuum, and wrinkles in something or other).

Any thoughts? Give up?

Anyone know where I can track down a decent aura camera? Nope? Me either, but that's what I am on the hunt for. Gotta love him. A boy of science who is as alternative as you can be. What a combination!

I love you baby, to infinity and beyond.

Inner Peace.

A dear, dear friend of mine sent this to me today. I am posting it in the hope it may bring some inner calm to you.

Subject: Finishing Things

I sincerely hope this will be of some use to you. I am passing this on because it definitely worked for me today, and with what is happening, we all could probably use more calm in our lives. A doctor on tv this morning said the way to achieve inner peace is to finish all the things you have started. Such a true declaration and one we know deep down but usually ignore. It hit home for me today with the chaos in my life and the world around me in turmoil.



So I looked around my house to see things I'd started and hadn't finished. I am determined to follow through and am updating this as I go, ticking each thing off my list.

Here goes...

I have managed to finish off a bottle of Merlot,
a bottle of Chardonnay,
a bodle of Baileys,
a butle of wum,
a pockage of Prungles,
tha mainder of bot Prozic and Valiuminun scriptins,
the res of the chesescke
an a box a chocletz.

Yu haf no idr how bludy fablus I feel rite now. Plaese sned dhis orn to dem yu fee ar in ned ov iennr pisss. An telum,u blody luvum.!! Xxx

Raining Pain.

I wanted to come in and do a light post, I hoped to write something to make a few smile albeit briefly. But this post has to be written, this post is itching to flow from my fingers as freely as the tears flow down my face.

Imagine this. You are a thirteen year old boy driving along familiar streets with your mother and annoying younger brother. He is ten. You are bickering, as siblings do. He is bugging you, bloody pain in the butt he is. Your Mum is telling you both to shut up. Everyday stuff, just like the day before and the day before. It has been raining, you are all a little stir crazy with cabin fever from being stuck inside. It's the school holidays for God's sake, and you are sick of the rain and bored senseless. You reach over to give him a thump on the shoulder for his last smartarse crack...

"Oh my God." Your mother's words have you stopping mid shove and you turn to see a wall of water rushing towards your car. What was once the road in front of you is now a raging torrent of brown, a frothing, angry river which engulfs the car in seconds. Your mother screams as the car slides, you hear your brother join her and someone else yells in fear. It is you. You cannot swim, oh shit, "Mum, I can't swim!"

The car bumps and grinds its way in the swollen, strong, unstoppable current. You try to breath, try to steady your pounding heart and just breath. And you are crying, no longer the tough teenager, now a little boy in your terror.

With a slow groan the car lodges on a tree, it's frantic ride stilled momentarily. You can see someone through the fog of the constant rain, you and Mum and your brother scream "Help, please help." You force down the window and carefully climb onto the roof of the car, your brother scrambles out as your mother climbs precariously to the top too.

The vehicle shudders as the force of the deluge tries to shake it free to continue its death dance. You look into the eyes of your terrified brother, all arguments forgotten. He is crying too, it shocks you, he never cries, he is a tough little nut. The shadowed figure becomes a solid form, he is coming to help. He reaches out to grab you as the flood flow tries to pull him away. You reach forward... and glance at the white face of your sibling beside you. "Take him first - he can't swim." You do not add nor can I, and smile in relief as the burly rescuer grabs your brother and drags him away.

You and your mother grasp the tree with all the strength you can.

A grinding moan shakes the car as the tenous anchor gives. The sudden lurch pulls you from your perch into the torrent. Your mother cries out, then dives forward to reach you and you wrap your arms around her as the flood takes you both into its deadly grasp one last time...

RIP Jordan Rice of Toowoomba, 13 years of age.

Rescuers only had time to save one of the three from this car and he insisted they take his brother even though he also could not swim.  What a loving, courageous young man cruelly stolen from this life with his loving mother also losing her life trying to save him. RIP Donna Rice, 43.

R.I.P. Tony Dwyer

My sincere condolences to Lori and their two children. I have no words.

A tragic, terrible loss.

If you wish to light a candle for Tony, please follow this link. There are two groups running atm:

rrsah
and
rrshm

There is another small group under Tony, but I do not know if it is for Lori's Tony so I will not link it.

Sunshine Through the Clouds

The blog world is shadowed in pain at the moment. We are all vigilantly waiting, praying, hoping, caring, supporting Lori as best we can. Here, a never-ending parachute waiting to be released.

And then there is Lulu. Oh, my darling Lulu. She has always made me laugh, spread light into dark days. It was with a hand on my heart I read of her sudden, unexpected loss of her sister Amy. Oh God, words fail me. Because I have lived it. Different time, different lives, but the searing disbelief and pain are the same. Oh hell, the pain. And again, all we can do is be here on the end of the interweb, waiting, wanting to help in any way we can.

The hard bit. The waiting.

*Deep breath*

And so I have decided today to do a post about light breaking through the gloom. We all go on, as incredible and unlikely it seems at the time we are immersed neck deep in agony, we do. I did not think I could survive the loss of the last of my family, Wise Woman, my Mum. But I have. And am slowly crawling out of the hole of grief helped by my family and so many dear friends, irl and online.

I guess what I am trying to portray in this post is hope. Hope for the future whatever it may bring, faith that life will go on, conviction that no matter what, you will get through it.

We are amazing beings, us humans.

Sunday Sessions - For Lori

As Thea says:
On Sundays she pops two favourite songs onto her blog.
An oldie but a goldie.
And a newbie, fresh off the charts.
You can play along by linking up on Thea's blog.
And grab the button on her side bar if you want.


This is the one I sing to my boys, thinking of you Lori.



And this one for Tony...

Tina Turner

And for both of you, a more recent one:

Simple Plan

Sunday Sessions are hosted by Thea.



How Can We Ever Know What The Universe Plans?

I thought I'd be coming back in to FYBF after a lovely healing week of holidays with my family, but find the universe (as always) has other ideas. Today I am posting whilst my thoughts are consumed by another, our darling Lori at RRSAHM. If you have read my last post you will know her husband is in ICU (no updates or details yet) and this beautiful little family needs our thoughts, prayers; and if you can and want pop over to Kirsten's blog to add financial help into the equation.

Most of us have experienced that horrible bedside wait, no matter where in the world a hospital is they are all the same under the cloak of darkness. The quiet only broken by a monitor, the smell of antiseptic masking other far more distressing smells, the desperate fear that overrides all logic as you wait. And the joy and ecstacy as you walk through those front doors with your loved one to freedom.

Today, it is the image I am  holding in the front of my mind for Lori and Tony. Walking away together, whole and healed. It may be days or weeks, but I have to believe it will happen. It WILL happen.

The Rules (according to the big boss - Lori, previously Brenda, and for today, Kirsten)Follow my blog, the Random Ramblings of a SAHM. I never seem to get to reading all the links here. But believe me, I try. Not that any of this is my idea anyway- FYBF is MummyTime's brainbaby. I stole it.


1. Grab the bubbly button and post it on your sidebar.
2. Link your First Name and/or Blog Name and URL of your post or blog.
3. Add a short description (max of 125 chars). It could be a description of yourself, your blog or a teaser to your latest post.
4. Follow at least 1 linkyer/blogger (Be nice and spread the love).
5. The list will be open for linkyers on Fridays (and for the foreigners Friday as well).
6. A new and fresh link list will open every Friday. And you will have to link up AGAIN. The previous link list does not carry over to the following week.
7. And lastly, have lotsa fun. I mean it. If I detect anyone not totally loving the awesomeness, I will bump you off the linky list. (Joking) (Kinda).


Ripping off my stuff- including these rules- makes baby Jesus cry. If you are doing your own blog hop, please write your own rules. You know who you are.

Prayers needed...

For Lori and her husband Tony. A fellow bloggeress who does not ask for help unless things are dire.

You may know her as RRSAHM - Random Ramblings of a Stay at Home Mum. I do not know details but know every positive thought can only help. So help. Please.

The darkness of pacing hospital halls is all too fresh in my mind to ever ignore such fear and pain.

Thankful Thursday

Thank you for the joy of holidays, and two boys happy and relaxed!

Good one!

 Watch out!

It was THIS big!

FZZZZZZZZZZzzzz...

Wordless Wednesday 2011

1st day of the 1st month of '11



Memoir Monday - BOO! .

Only my love of the big Trav could draw me back to post a Memoir Monday whilst on holidays. Yes, you read it right, *cough*, holidays. Madmother has run away to her home of the heart to enjoy time with the family, catch up with old, dear, uh, did I mention old?, friends.

So, here I am sitting in my kitchen (this one) scroll down trying write a Memoir. The sadness of recent times has lifted being back on home turf. It is true, you can take the girl out of the valley but you sure can't take the valley from the girl. And being back in the area I grew up in has triggered a long forgotten tale. Or more - but I'll save the second one for next week.
So I present for your entertainment:

The Tale of Bluey.

Once upon a time... Oh, hang on, this isn't a fairy tale, whoops. This is a tale of a ghost. Maybe. A nearly forgotten tale from my misspent youth.  A couple of days ago we went out to a nearby (as in an hour's drive) friend's beach house. Now this mansion overlooks one of the haunts (hee hee) of my younger days - Blueys Beach.

Now when Madmother motored out to this spot it was truly in the middle of nowhere  - old farm house amidst cow scattered paddocks rolling on down from headland to beach. Glorious, untouched and decidely spooky in the late hours with only a bonfire to keep us teenagers company.

It was in these giggling, end of school/edge of adulthood, relationships-burgeoning evenings that I first heard of Bluey's Ghost. Over the dying embers the boys liked to put the fear into us wanna-be cool girls. It may have been in the hope of us scurrying closer under salt-crusted towels, or it may have been in sheer mischief, who knows. But in hushed tones the legend was slowly, spine-chillingly revealed as we sat wide-eyed around the dying embers. 

The ghost of Bluey was said to appear as a lantern-carrying apparition walking down the headland over the rocks and along the beach in the dark of night. Light swinging from side to side, if you stared closely enough you could make out the burley shape of the stumbling old man holding it high, peering into the gloom. Or so they said.

Many theories abounded about Bluey. One said he was an old farmer who helped many a ship-wrecked sailor in the old days, wading into the treacherous surf to pull the men to safety when their ships flounded until one day the angry sea took him to its depths. Another said he was a local fisherman who went looking for his wife and her smuggler lover only to drown as he waded after their boat alternately screaming obscenities and begging her to come back. The third, far more boring theory is that it is a hoard of fireflies who group together on the still summer nights when the conditions are right. This one was offered by our resident geek of the group, to many jeers and calls to shut up. Personally I think it would take one hell of a big party of bugs to look like a lantern, but that is just my opinion.

So, the other day as we sat on top of the hill in this beautiful house I told the story of Bluey to four boys with faces full of fearful fascination. I offered them all three explanations, and left it up to each to decide which they chose. As I will you. Who do you think Bluey was? Or what? This is my Memoir Monday.

Oh, and yes, I have seen the light. Bahahahahahahahahaha...

An ASD Night Before Christmas...

You all the know the old version, so here is the Madmother reworked one:

An ASD Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the home

Not a meltdown had happened, not even a moan;

The stockings were hung wherever they could,

In hopes that old Santa would soon hit our ‘hood;

The children both nestled like angels asleep,

As I sat exhausted, having a weep;

The year almost over, appointments all run,

Therapies halted, routine now undone.

For most ‘tis the season for all to be jolly,

In an ASD house to lose order is folly.

And so as I sat, wiped the tears from my face,

I knew that for morning I must myself brace.

He had made me happy, with his pixie-ish glee

The evening was joyous, as the Eve just should be

But tomorrow his senses would hit overload,

And a Christmas Day meltdown was sure to explode.

Lost in my thoughts, stiff drink by my side,

A sudden strange noise drew attention outside.

I walked to the door filled with visions of drunks,

Flung it wide open expecting some punks.

Imagine my shock, when to my surprise

There stood old Saint Nick before tired eyes!

I rubbed them quite hard, then I rubbed them again

As he held out his gloved hand, said “Hello friend”

In shock I did shake it, invited him in

And asked if he wanted some of my Gin?

“No, right now you need it a lot more than myself."

I downed it, surrendered the glass to his elf.

Resplendent in red suit, white beard down his front.

The lounge creaking loudly, he sat with a grunt.

His elf dropped beside him, the sack at his feet

My jaw still hung open, in sheer disbelief

He had a broad face and a big round belly,

That shook, as he spoke, like a bag full of jelly.

“I wanted to drop by in person tonight

Accept my apologies for the sudden fright.

I usually come in when you are all asleep,

To check on the children and spread magic to keep

You all happy and safe and sound for the year

But I have this letter that you need to hear.”

From his red pocket, he pulled out a sheet

All crumpled and wrinkled and covered in sleet.

He unfolded it carefully, well-read as it was,

Pulled out his spectacles, placed onto nose.

He cleared his dry throat and then lowered his chin,

“Dear Santa, well that’s same way they all do begin,

How are you, ready for Christmas this year?

I tried to be good, but wasn’t real good I fear.

My name is Boy 1, I have ASD

Things get quite hard when you have to be me.

See, my Mummy she loves me just as I am

She saves me from falling and tells me I can

Do anything I want, in this great world of mine

She works hard to assist me and allows me to shine.

But she gets quite tired and cries sometimes too

So I have a big favour to ask just of you.

This Christmas please don’t bring me any new stuff,

Mummy, she makes sure I've more than enough.

This Christmas I don’t want my Mum to be sad

So can you please help me to stop acting bad.

I know it is hard when she sees all my fears

So, could you please help me to stop screams and tears?

I know you can do it, I do really believe

In the magic of Christmas, so please could you? Please?

I will do my best to be good next year too,

Oh and I’ve left out some milk and cookies for you.”

He folded it back up, mopped the tears from my cheeks

“You must truly be proud, that boy is unique.

I’ve had tons of letters, is it a million or ten?

But not one of the others I brought back to them.

I think he has granted your one real Christmas wish,

So I will bid you adieu and a very Merry Christmas.”

With that he turned, without a sound he was gone

Leaving me here filled with hope and so strong.

So believe in the magic, when nothing feels right

And

"Happy Christmas to all,

and to all a good-night."

 
 
A very Merry Christmas to you and yours, and may 2011 mark the best of yet to come.
 

Madmother? Wasn't she...

That woman who had a blog? Oh, hang on, didn't she have more than one? Wonder whatever happened to her?

Yeah - that's the one. Cheeky devil, but I think that photo is from quite a few years back when she still had her spunk and spark. Wonder where she is now, she just seemed to vanish into the ether...

Oh well, I'll just move on to the next blog that tickles my fancy.

Ever wonder if this is what will happen to you? So many bloggers seem to come and go, the blog muse is a fickle creature who abandons even the most prolific of us. Remember Kellyansapansa? Kellywhat I hear some newer folk asking? Kellyansapansa was a shining beacon in blogworld until moving onto other lives. Melissa at Things I'd Tell You is another popular blogger who has hit the real life sucks wall. And as for me, well I didn't even have the energy to go to most of my writing course let alone blog. *Sigh*.

Destined to become a mere passing comment in years to come... "Madmother? Oh, yeah, I remember her..."