Things I am Grateful For: A Constant Hum of Life in the Madmother House.

No, not that busy little undertone of real life we all have buzzing around in the background of our everyday. Noooo, I have my own personal, constant, rarely stopping mumbling hummer. Boy 1. But it is friggin' GREAT!

He has his own humming monologue that goes something like: "Hmmm hm hm hmmm. Hmmm, hmm, hm. hmmmmm, hmmm." Guess what? It is because his incredible mind NEVER stops. NEVER. And he knows the constant chatter can drain others, so he has his own little chat within his closed lips.


Am I grateful for it? Hell YEAH!



The one the first speech specialist who saw him at only 3 and a half years of age told us he would never socialise or have friends or even be able to converse?


The kid the so-called educational specialist morons told me had an intellectual impairment and could never learn at 6 years of age?

The one who now is doing incredibly well at school, and amazes most with his incredible mind?

God, he is amazing. I love the hum in my life. Asperger Syndrome - not disability, differing abilities...

Ouch. The "Oh Hell" Reminder.

Oh hell - I am SO unfit! I have put on a lot of weight since chewing my way through my grief avoidance. Around 6 or 7 kilos to be exact. I had gained some eating takeaway on constant hospital duty, but solidified my butt extension after losing Wise Woman. It is easy to eat comfort food when the world is grey.

Look at those tuckshop lady arms!

But last night I returned to derby. Last night I got my wheels back on - for the first time since July last year.

Last night I realised how incredibly unfit I now am. I was unfit before, but with the extra weight in the heat - holy crap! But I am back. And determined to put my all into it this time. Training two nights a week, and the family is going to walk early each morning before school.

I will be fit and fabulous before you know it. Cause let's face it - I've always been dangerous!

Officially now - as per two evils international derby name website:






Oh, and this will be my only derby update here. Will be reviving my official derby blog from now on:
Madmother: Hellion on Wheels. Come on over and follow the journey if you want. And in case you are wondering - even after over 6 months and at the heaviest I have ever been... I can still skate like hell!

I am Not Asleep...

I wish I was. I have had a little wine (just a couple of glasses with Big Boy), and I have watched TV. But I am wide awake. I need to sleep, we have both Boy 1 and 2 friends coming over tomorrow, and then I am going to derby training in the evening. I NEED sleep.

I know why I am awake. The fear and heartache is beginning to break through the ice encasing my grief. And I am scared. Because if the ice cracks and the grief is freed, I am broken. For she is so much of who I am. Was. I want her to be proud, but I just wish someone would let me cry on their shoulder, let me release this insistant pressure of pain. I wish someone could see I am broken. I want someone to see the shattered soul inside my outer shell. I want to feel safe to fall apart, if only for a bit. And the only one who ever saw that, and felt it, and let me be weak, was her. I want my mum. Please. Just for a little while.

Laugh at me if you must -  I just hope you do not ever feel like this because it fucking hurts. Sorry Mum, I know you hate that sort of language. I just can't be strong tonight. I miss you so much.

Greeting Card Poetry and Other Drivel.

For those unfamiliar with me on here, or even irl, I am a bit of a puerile poem profligate. I call them my greeting card poems - you know, the sort of rhyming drivel that briefly charms then sours like eating a large packet of jelly belly beans in one sitting?

I also have been know to dissect a good song and mutilate transform it into my own little ditty. Prime examples are my Blog This Challenge winning rewrite of a Midnight Oil classic (yes, I did just sit and do spirit fingers dancing in the instrumental bit); and also my rehash of Hey Soul Sister by Train for a friend. The second was bloody difficult I might add. won't be doing THAT in a hurry again, let me tell you.

But it is my little poems of fun that tend to burst forth at the strangest times. Like the comp over at WoogsWorld atm. Don't get me wrong - the comment ditty I entered is all pretty damn accurate, it just is rhymingly accurate. Bit tragic I guess. Oh, and the rude versions of Christmas songs me and kids have made up. Those I best not post, or your view of me as a delicate little petal may be forever tainted. Really.

And of course I cannot leave out my fundraising efforts, and school projects.

Things like the magnet hand cut out with a marble on the thumb:

Happy Mother’s Day Mum,

I thought I’d lend a hand

Cause I know you are so busy

And always in demand.

On it is a marble

For you to have to put away

I KNOW you lose your marbles

As you tell me everyday.

So next time I annoy you,

And make you tear your hair

Just look upon the fridge Mum,

And your marble will be there!

Or the door hanger, again with marble:

Please Do Not Disturb

Do not dare to enter here

Cause inside is a madwoman

Known to you as “Mother Dear”

Today has not been good to me

I’m losing the whole plot

You know I love you dearly

But some space would mean a lot

I think I’m losing all my marbles

Nothing is very clear

But when you feel I’ve lost them all

You can show me this one here!

Oh, and lastly - my interpretation of the Jar of Nothing:

When I asked you what you wanted,

For Father’s Day this year

I know I heard growled: “Nothing!”

It was so very clear.

I’m sure I heard you right,

When at last you made reply,

Did you not say nothing

As I looked you in the eye?

Now, I searched all sorts of places

High and low and here and there

Until I found the perfect gift

(It is all full of air.)

So next time when I ask you

Sincerely what you need

Recall this Jar of Nothing

And answer properly please.

See, I should be writing for a greeting card company! Now, go to Woogsworld and have a go at winning her JVC camera giveaway.

Memoir Monday and Other Crapola in this Screwed Up World

Today I was intending to post the details *cough* story of my engagement ring melodrama, and the role Wise Woman played. It was to be my Memoir Monday that I normally post on a Tuesday because Trav is a yank and his Memoir Monday is launched on Aussie Tuesdays. Sometimes. As in when he feels like doing one.

Then I realised the date. January 17th - the birth day of my father, Grumblebum. How could I not do a Memoir Monday dedicated to him on his birthday? Now I just need to dig into those dark recesses of my cobweb filled mind to find one I have yet to share here...

Ah yes... How to Dump a Boy without ever Uttering a Word

I mentioned in another post on Grumblebum how tall and *ahem* large he was in life. (Yeah, go back, look at the one linked in his name back up a bit). What I did not mention was that he suffered from a slight hearing loss. Which made his already loud voice LOUDER. BOOMING in fact. Sort of like those really ear-bursting announcements you hear over the microphone in some stores. The ones that make you need a change of underpants.

Now, for all my brashness I have an affliction which made it difficult for me to tell the boys of my youth when I lost interest. Yep, Madmother has... a soft heart. I just could not make myself dump someone, it was just too crushing to frail teenage male egos. So, I utilised my secret weapon.

Grumblebum. How, you may ask? No, I didn't tell porkies and have him go out seeking vengeance for his daughter's reputation. I just, ah, made use of circumstances. And my Dad's loud voice, short fuse and lack of tolerance. My Dad spent most evenings after work at the Bowling Club. Great Aussie tradition, the Bowling Club. Leave work, head to the club for a couple of hours, unwind away from nagging family, come home ooh, around 7ish for tea. With a *cough* few schooners under his belt.

Sooooooo, when young Madmother needed to dump discourage a paramour, it would run like this...

I'd avoid said boy over a period of around a week or so. Have Wise Woman field phone calls (easier in the days before mobiles), keep away from usual hang outs, run in other direction if visual contact made. Until said boy, out of sheer frustration, would turn up on doorstep. Frantically run around turn off all lights. Hide in house until, unbenownst to boy, Grumblebum shambles up driveway and in back door. To dark house. "What the blazes is going on here?" usually first words as he trips then finds kitchen light. At light and sign of life, said boy frantically pounds on front door, holds finger on really annoying *ding-ding-dingaling-ding* doorbell and yells out my name. Sorta like Brando in Streetcar, but instead of STELLA he calls MADMOTHER...

At this point Grumblebum storms to front, yanks door open, and with bright red face, standing 6ft 2", weighing over 20 stone, booms out "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" top of his considerable lungs. Cue rapidly shrinking teenage boy stuttering, stumbling, mumbling, slowly backing away from enraged father, muttering... "I am here to see Madmother, is she here?"
"No! And don't bother coming back."

They never did. Bad, Madmother, bad.

Happy Birthday, Dad. And they wonder where I get it from, lol.

Party hard in heaven Lulu. Yes, after the tragic loss of Lucy's sister Amy only a week or so ago, the family now has to cope with the sudden death of our own dear Lulu, under very similar, heart-breaking circumstances to her sister. You will never be forgotten, dear girl. xx

The world is a truly grey place at the moment.

Sunday Sessions - Old Friends

This is a blog hop with Thea. Read her rules and link up on her blog.

I have had a wonderful weekend. Yesterday was spent with some old friends from my Uni days, and their children who I last saw as babies. The great thing was the instant rapport that leapt into being between my Boy 1 and their Boy 1, my Boy 2 and their Boy 2. Laughter rang from our table at both ends, young and old. A friendship hopefully to last as ours has, over miles, years and differing paths.

To celebrate I give you this one:



See the big bloke who features in this? Yep, that's one of my dear friends who was here. And yes, he is absolutely lovely. One of the most endearing people I have ever had the chance to meet. Then again, he is married to one of the most gorgeous women on this planet (who I happpened to go to Uni with many moons ago). Yes, I haz famous friends!

And then today some other friends from my childhood (who we only saw a week ago on our hols, but loved seeing them here again) unexpectedly came to visit. They rang last night whilst the others were here and we leapt at the chance to have them come up. Another day of laughter, fun, frivolity and friendship. Great weekend.

This one is for them - an old favourite.




You are a balm to my wounded soul - all of you. Loved it, really loved it!

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.