Follow the Yellow Brick Road

Hiccups already

2012-01-26T02:46:00.000-08:00

Yes, yes. It started already. The hiccups. The formal 50-50 arrangement hasn;t even started yet and I am already getting abused by Spike. The other day i received a whole barrel of texts from him and it's just frustrating me. I won't repeat them or bang on about them too much, I am bored of it all.
He just will never change his perspective. He just will never move on.
I am still shocked at the anger I have towards him, and it seems to grow with every bad encounter I have with him. I never got over how our marriage ended, and it has caused so much of the anger I still experience today. Because he broke his vows to me, he cheated. He broke a part of me in doing that, that I have never quite gotten over. He cheated and he thinks his shit don't stink.
It is exhausting.
I had such a great great time today with the girls - the school holidays are almost at an end, and yesterday I was just so stressed and wasn;t having fun with them, so I just prayed and asked God to bless me with enough patience and motivation to enjoy some quality time with my girls. And he did! It was a fantastic hot summers day today and we went to Maraetai beach, I used to go there alot as a kid. The sun was hot and the water was cool, we had a blast together. Spice jumped off a wharf into the sea, and Sugar was happily playing in the sand. We had fun. They behaved. It was wonderful!
I am so blessed to have such lovley girls.
On another note, I am going to give up smoking! I'm counting down to my quit date so will be starting a new blog about that.

Success... Triumph.... Victory....

2012-01-22T03:18:00.000-08:00

How many other words can I come up with to describe the roundtable meeting..... Spike and I had a meeting scheduled last wednesday, and it was meant to be us and our lawyers and the kids lawyer, but it ended up being me shut in a room with my lawyer running in and out, conversing with his lawyer who was in another room with Spike. He had come into the meeting and told his lawyer that he didn't want to change a thing. Didn't want to do the 50-50. Said he had some concerns.
God i love my lawyer. She rocks. She told him that I had been asking over and over for him to specifically cite his concerns to me, and as he hadn't done so would he mind going over them with her? Haha. He said nothing. Then she says to him, sweet as. if you do not want to agree on this and you want to drag this out even though we were all in agreeance that 50-50 would go ahead, fine. We will see you in court, we will go to trial and the judge can decide. Because that was literally the only thing that could happen. If we couldn't come to a conclusion and finally get a final parenting order, we had no more options but go to a hearing and let a judge decide.
The kids lawyer has been to all our mediation's and meetings, and she meets with the kids as well, and she thought the idea of 50-50 was good, after all the last school term when I got to have the kids a little bit more it was in preparation for this bigger change to take place at the beginning of term one.
A bit more to-and-fro-ing and my lawyer came in with a big grin on her face. He caved. He fucking caved. He agreed to and signed an order giving us both equal rights as parents.
FINALLY!!
I just about cried I was so happy. I asked my lawyer if Spike would be able to join us so we could discuss financial matters. But he said that he had something else to do and not enough time. Hmmpf.
In regards to the financial stuff, well I wrote in our communication book the ideas I had about splitting bills for day care and after school care and school costs, and he wrote back that it all sounded fine.
Thing was, he was over a thousand dollars in arrears with afterschool care. I rang the owner of the centre that runs the programme and explained the situation, and she agreed to create us split bills; I will pay for whatever days she is in care on my weeks and Spike will pay for his week, and his arrears. I was so happy when I got off the phone. Daycare wasn't so happy to arrange separate bills, so both of us will just have to split the bill weekly.
I am so very happy that this has finally come to an end. We have a FINAL parenting order which states that we have equal rights and equal time.The fucking power struggle and the games are over. I hope. This should never have taken this long. I have missed out on far too much.
See, when I went to Aussie the first time, for three months, Spike and I had agreed that when I got back from looking after Dad that we would start 50-50 custody. How naive I was not to sign anything before hand, to trust him. and it has taken two and a half years of constant court battles, accusations and rumours all trying to make me look like the bad parent to finally come to this conclusion. This has not been an easy road. And I guess going 50-50 right when I am about to start nursing school full time and buy a business is not going to be an easy road either. Which is why I am still having trouble sleeping.
Thoughts just go round and round in my brain. Money, mostly, but other worries as well like how will I fit all my homework in with the kids homework and playing with them, and working. How will I fit it all in? I am a naturally organised person, I lie being organised. But I like knowing how things are going to pan out in advance. I don;t like not knowing how stuff will work out. I need to have a solid plan! And at the moment I dont.
Two more weeks.... counting down. Wow two more weeks and I will finally be there. I am nervous and excited at the same time. I got my book list and it was expensive! I managed to pick up all but one of the required textbooks from trademe, and i'll get the other one this week when I get my course related costs from studylink. I have to buy a uniform for clinical placements amongst other items like a stethoscope and nurses watch etc.
So we are just about ready to buy the business. T-Bone just has to do a few more things to get the money and we will be ready to take over. I can't see it being February but it will be March. We Incorporated the business, so it's all ready to go ahead as soon as we get all the money together. Another good bit of news.
Then we got a couple of bad bits of news in the same week. My friend L's mother has two large tumours in her stomach; they don;t know if they are cancerous yet but one is so big it has it's own blood supply. So she will be undergoing heaps of tests in the coming weeks. My heart goes out to L, because she has suffered from anxiety for years and this will just bring it back on again. I know how it feels - actually L was with me the day my Dad rung from Aussie and told me he had lung cancer. I couldn't breathe, I just listened to what he said and when he hung up I sobbed for hours. But Dad knew right from the start that it was terminal. His doctor never gave him the illusion that he would be cured. All the chemo and radiation he went through was only to prolong his life a little. So I know how it feels to have a parent who is dying, who has died. It fucking rips you in two. My Dad should have never died so young.
The other bit of bad news is that our flatmate is moving out. Great fuckin timing, she knows that we are financially strained and she wants to move out the weekend right before I start nursing school. So i'm pissed about that. I know we will have to rent the room out again, and I know we can get a lot more money for it than she was giving to us. But I just don't really like the thought of living with strangers. I'll have to put an ad up next week for a new flatmate.

Will it, won't it....

2012-01-08T04:58:00.000-08:00

Will it work out? Won't it work out? Will it be too much for me? Am I taking this on with too many other things on my plate as well?
Nursing School starts in less than a month. The other day I went and had a walk around my new campus, checked out the building and made sure I knew where the toilets and library were, sussed out parking. Got a timetable, the lady said more info will be posted to me and I won't really know my exact timetable until orientation week, which annoys me because I like to be super organised well in advance. And I have childcare arrangements to take care of. There is an upcoming lawyers meeting where hopefully everything goes to plan and we get the 50-50 we have been fighting for for so freaking long. I'd love to know my class times before that, but I don't. The timetable gave me a rough idea, most classes start at 9 or 10 so I will be able to drop the kids off, but some days I won't finish till four, so T-Bone will have to pick them up, other days I will finish at 3 so they may have to go to after school care.
What is bothering me.... well it's the middle of the night and I had to get these things off my chest otherwise sleep will not be happening.
I love my girls. They are just so sweet, they make me proud and angry in the same minute, they are messy and noisy and don't have table manners (Sugar actually used her tongue to lick up her peas off her plate because "they were rolling everywhere") but I fucking love them. I want them here all the time, even though sometimes I want them just to be quiet or not argue or just leave me in peace for a little bit. This 50-50 thing will financially benefit us in no way at all. We are going to have extra bills to pay in fact, when we can hardly pay the ones we already have. But that's a non-issue as long as we get them. We will work it out. I will be studying full time, trying to fit in some kind of work, and studying at home as well, all on top of looking after the girls on the week we have them.
HOW AM I GOING TO DO THIS?
Am I strong enough to do this? Capable enough? Will I be a success or will I drop out because the other things in life overcrowd MY ambitions. Doing this course means everything to me. It has taken me 10 years of umming and ahhhing and a few attempts to enrol at different stages, but this is for real. This is fucking well it, I'm going to nursing school!!!!
I need to do it. I was born to do it. It will be so much better for us in the long term. And it's only three years, right? I know I am intelligent enough to study and pass, I know I am compassionate enough to make an exceptional nurse. I know I have the desire to sacrifice so many things in the next three years so that I can go to nursing school. We may even have to lose the MySky!! (Not sure how I will cope with that loss, so used to being able to rewind and fast forward and so are the kids)
So the Yellow Brick Road takes a new turn, there is a new beginning in my life coming up. An opportunity for me to get a life-long career that is going to bring me so much joy and pleasure and challenge.
I need to find a new job. This casual shit is not on. Haven't had work in two weeks, so haven;t had income. I just applied to pretty much every retail store in our area, hoping that someone wants weekend staff. If that's what I have to do, then I will do it. With the custody being the way it is currently (well, not over the holidays) then my quality time with the kids is pretty much confined to weekends. If I had the 50-50 then quality time would be spread over the entire week, so on the weekends it wouldn't be a biggie if I worked one or two of the days.
Coming up to the lawyers meeting I need to be prepared for what I want to say. I know what I want and I don't want to leave that room with anything less than 50-50 custody. I've looked at a few different ways of splitting the custody and I think the most reasonable way is to do a week on week off arrangement, starting on friday afternoon so we get them fresh and happy and excited to see us and we can use the weekend to settle into their other home, then through the week we know we have them all week so there won't be so much of this to-and-fro business thats been going on. And on the week off will be when my concentration goes to studying more and working if I am able.
I know that Spike will say something about how if I am in full time study then how can I fit the kids around my study. Well, they will. We will make it work. The kids are always my first priority, but in saying that they have to come second to this study, because in a round about way, it's for them anyway. So they will have a mum in three years time that they can be proud of, that they will have a mum who isn't broke all the time, they will have a happy mum who finally feels like she has a meaningful place in the world. I don't see how it won't make their lives better in the long run.
Where on earth I can squeeze in another sprog is beyond me. I know T-Bone and I both want to have a baby, it's just bad timing in the next three years, and then I will probably want to work for a year before getting pregnant. So thats four or possibly 5 years from now. T-Bone isn't getting any younger, he will be 35 this year so will possibly be a 40 year old new dad.
I fucking should have done this course when I was younger. The first time it came up I was 17, working as a Nurse Aide in Christchurch, and I had a patient who was really close to me, and I promised her that I would be a nurse one day. I looked into it, but it took me two years to apply, and when I did I was just about to start the course when I found out I was pregnant with Spice. This has been in the making for 10 years. Can I manage it now? With a family, with work, money, everything makes it so hard. I'm not worried about the course, i'm worried about the rest of life.

Happy Xmas, New Years etc and bring on 2012!

2012-01-04T14:07:00.000-08:00

Christmas was a success! How the fuck did that happen?! The girls arrived from Spikes at lunchtime, opened presents, played with them and then we sat down at a beautifully presented table to eat ham and salad and trifle. It was a good day.

The girls had heaps of presents and got what they wanted - Pillowpets - so they were happy. I wish they had had such a magical time at their dad's place too. But apparently, Santa didn't visit and they only got a couple of gifts from Spike and Freckles and his parents, and they took them to McDonalds for xmas breakfast! It disgusted me. At least make the effort to leave a few presents from Santa, at least make the effort to cook some Bacon and eggs for breakfast.
So now that xmas is over, and new years is over (we went out to town with some friends and had a great kid-less time) its 2012 and time for my career to start! I'm super excited about starting Nursing School, I just can't wait. There have been some doubts between T-Bone and I if we will cope financially while I am studying full time, but i'm sure we can get there. I've applied for heaps of jobs in shops, I will keep the job I have but seems as it is a casual contract I don't get regular work, which is what I need. If I get another part time job on weekends it means we will have a guaranteed income while I am studying.
So Spike and I have a lawyers meeting in a few weeks for finalise this arrangement. He is such a dick. He has no reason to back out of the agreement we made. I am SO over the court crap! I guess I will see at the meeting if the Wicked Witch has made any waves.
New Years resolution: to go to Nursing School and to be more prepared for Xmas!!!!

It's so close I can smell the trifle

2011-12-21T07:58:00.000-08:00

Okay Xmas is just about here. Cannot avoid (have been trying). Thankfully we did all of the kids xmas shopping and have survived, both in the shops and financially.
Thanks so much, Studylink, for stopping my student allowance unannounced, go fuck yourselves. We will be very very tight over the next six weeks thanks to a technical hitch due to me switching qualifications halfway through the year, even though my papers got cross credited to my new programme, the university and Studylink now consider that as I am a "half year, part time" student. I even sobbed on the phone, saying "oh my god i've been a full time student for two years, I worked hard and I got F'n great marks!" But no, no deal. So I have to wait for my student allowance to start back up when I start Nursing School. I've been getting a few more shifts at work, but the work is inconsistent (being a casual) and now that the school holidays are here, there will be many days I am offered work where I have the kids so can't.
Another rant about Spike. So, I pay child support to him as IRD have worked out, which doesn't amount to very much. So it's not a rant about having to pay it. I pay it. As well as contributing to other costs and covering the full $200 per term piano lessons. But over January, as the timetable that Spike and I agreed on last month, I have 17 nights and he has 13. Therefore I have them for a larger portion than he does. And since we have been working towards 50-50 starting 1st of February, I thought it would be a fair call to ask Spike to ring IRD to cancel the child support payments from the end of december. But all I got back as a reply was "we haven't come to an agreement yet." WTF! Ummmm, I thought we had sorted this out months ago at the mediation where we filed and INTERIM agreement of the changes in the last term, which was designed to settle the girls into the habit of leaving for school from my place, and that we both had agreed that the beginning of term one 2012 was the best time to start the 50-50 arrangement. He agreed that that's what we would be doing. Even in the meeting we had here between T-Bone, myself, Spike and Freckles which was a month ago, we were still in agreeance that this would be happening. He raised no concerns except MONEY. But now he is spouting off some shit about needing a "safety plan" in case "something happens", and no I dont know what he means, and no he would not elaborate.
So I wrote a letter to IRD myself with the new arrangement over January, because why should I pay him child support if I will have the girls for the majority of the time anyways? I'm not seeking child support payments from him because I will be having them more, I don't want to play the IRD game. I thought it was really unfair that he refused to contact them to cancel the payments. IRD said that they would have to confirm the dates with him, but if he doesn't want to play the game I have plenty of evidence to prove that the arrangement that we made is going ahead.
Another thing that makes me nervous is the arrival of the Wicked Witch. L said that she will fly in on her broomstick on Xmas day. I am nervous that she already been influencing Spike in the lead up to her return to NZ to change his mind. Well, OF COURSE!! I mean, she hasn't been around to control him 24/7 the way she would like so I expect a large dose of Wicked Witch input when she arrives. I don't know how long she is staying, but am seeing L tomorrow so perhaps she will know.
There are so many stressors going on... money, work, kids, xmas, family court, uni. This paper i'm doing is HARD! It's all crammed into such a short amount of space, i've no idea how i'm going to get it all done. The only comfort is knowing its not nessicary that I pass it, I was using it as a helping hand for Nursing School next year. There are just so many topics, so much to learn about all of the different parts of the body and how they all work... not just stuff like your leg bone is attached to a muscle and the muscle moves... it goes into crap like the different types of muscles, what types of cells they are made up of, what cells do what job within those muscles etc. It would have been alot easier if I had someone teaching, or if I had taken the paper over a full semester instead of the short one. With xmas, parties to go to as well as working, i'm not sure how to fit in enough dedicated study time.
The girls are so excited about xmas. They can't wait! I'm so excited to see their faces when they open their pressies; probably the only part of xmas I enjoy. I started sewing some xmas placemats so I can lay the table out all nice, since this will be our first "alone" family xmas - Mum and her partner are going away on their boat, and my brother is going to his finace's parents. The girls are spending xmas eve with Spike then getting dropped off at lunchtime, and for once we don't have to do any rushing around to people's houses! Just relaxing at home, eating a massive dinner. Sounds nice.
Almost there!

Oh! I've lost my Christmas spirit! Can I borrow yours?

2011-12-11T12:16:00.000-08:00

I keep forgetting how much I hate Christmas. Not the actual day, I like the day with all its food and the kids opening presents and sitting out in the sun with some beers. That part is just lovely.
Its the weeks leading up to Christmas that I can't stand.
Two weeks out from the big day and I have ventured to the shops ONCE. There are people everywhere. I don't like crowds and never will. I don't like anything that involves mass people moving in different directions.
So shopping is shit in December. What always makes shopping more shit? Lack of available funds.
Ohhh Money. It's my #1 stressor. And this time of year there is so much pressure. So many xmas parties where you have to buy little presents for people you don't really want to buy for. If i was a Lotto winner I would buy for them. But if i was a student with a part time job and heaps of rent to pay... oh, wait, I am!
We put a layby on at a shop about two months ago and its about half paid off. That's the extent of my shopping. But now I have to go out and find presents for the family xmas party which is this sunday. To the MALL. THIS WEEK.
I'm the grinch. Next year I want to fly overseas and just avoid the entire month of December. Perhaps the first half of January as well.
Then on top of the xmas shopping there are overdue bills to be paid which bit into a massive chunk of my hard earned pay. I hate fortnightly pay, it fuckin sucks. Who does that??
I am grumpy and wish it would be over.
Okay let me try and think about some good things about xmas... mmmm. Well the girls are at Spike's on xmas day until lunchtime, so we get to have a sleep in. Also, we don't have to be Santa this year thank fuck. Because Santa goes to the house that you sleep at, so Spike will have to dish out for those presents. We swap each year, so last year they woke up at my place and I had been Santa. That takes some pressure off of how many presents I have to buy.
And we have nothing else to do that day! My mum is going away sailing over xmas, hence the early xmas day this sunday. So no driving, just presents and eating.
And in two weeks it will all be over. For a whole year. I think my New Years resolution will be to be more prepared for xmas next year!!

It can be so hard sometimes

2011-12-01T13:19:00.000-08:00

No shit. Life is hard. Have a moan.
Remember when you were a teenager and people would try to give you advice? Like your parents or older siblings? And you never took it? Because they didn't understand you, they weren't in your shoes, in fact you were completely unique and nobody have ever been through what you were going through! I learnt last year in a psychology class that this is typical of teenagers, called adolescent egocentrism. The personal fable - a story an individual constructs about themselves in which they are the star, their experiences are unique and nobody understands them. Well, it's just a brain dysfunction. Teenagers brains just aren't developed enough to act like adults. Actually, the part of the brain that is involved in reasoning, impulse control and emotional development isn't developed enough even at 20. I learnt in this years Human Development course that there is a period of life called "emerging adulthood", from the end of adolescence until around 25, when a person is no longer a teenager biologically, but also not quite an adult.
Teenagers and even these emerging adults are stroppy and shitty and they don't want your advice. If you try to offer them well meaning advice because they are about to make a mistake you may have already made in the course of your life, they don't want to hear it. So fuck em. Let them make their mistakes. They won't listen. They insist they are adults when they behave more like teenagers. They still lack the ability to take other people into consideration when making decisions. They are lazy, sulky and moody.
I'm over it.
Life is hard yes, but grow the fuck up.
I've had a couple of off days when everything seems to bug me. I have a case of the guilts because of the financial situation at the moment, and a small amount of stress over waiting for exam results and fitting in study with work and sick kids. Spice has been at home with me this week with the chicken pox, although she's not unwell just spotty.
So the situation with this emerging adult is really getting on my nerves. It has been bugging me for more than the last few days, but it's just really getting to a point where I am annoyed all the time about this person. Because teenagers lack the insight to really think about another person before they act, I can't actually blame it on anything more than a biological dysfunction. Or maybe some people are just lazy and inconsiderate. I don't know.

Oh the human body...

2011-11-21T13:00:00.000-08:00

So I finished up my Semester two papers and now i've got stuck into my one summer school paper, Human Bioscience. It's enormous! It's all crammed into 12 weeks instead of the usual 16 week semester, and I am struggling to think how I can learn all of this stuff in three months!
It's a whole new language to use with a whole heap of words I can't pronounce. The only thing that is keeping me from panicking is the thought I constantly have, that this paper is optional. I have finished my Diploma, and this paper is just a "head start" for next year. Maybe it seems like a waste of time and money to some people, since I will be doing a similar paper at nursing school and I can't cross credit the summer school paper (different unis) but for me it is an awesome way to introduce myself to all this medical terminology and how the body works. I failed high school science miserably, so this is my first real in depth look at the science of the human body.
I am overwhelmed at the amount of stuff to learn in the next three months, but am comforted knowing that I don't need to pass this paper. Oh, I will though, because anything less would mean I failed. And that's a trigger word for me; failure at one thing means my brain automatically thinks I have failed at everything. Perfectionist maybe but I just like to think that I have high expectations for myself. I want to be exceptional. I want to get a damn A.
Starting from next year and over the following three years I will be starting out on my *dream* job, a job I have wanted to do for ten years. This paper is just preparing me, because if I went in blind I would feel overwhelmed at all of the new stuff to learn. This one paper will have nothing on the next three years of papers and practicums and learning all new things.
I don't know how I managed to pass so many papers with such half-arsed study. No, I did study, but I wasn't a "dedicated learner" who spent hours trawling over course material. I speed-read a lot of the readings and picked out important points. I crammed for my exams. I learnt a lot over the last two years but probably couldn't recite to you the foundations of social policy or the theories of psychology. I didn't need a lot of the information I learnt, and I knew that! But with nursing, everything they teach will have some practical application to the job. So I have to learn and know and remember all of it.
Brain Pills?

Fulltime vs Part time

2011-11-17T14:09:00.000-08:00

Reading another blog post on The Feminist Breeder, which was about a Mother-war on terminology (well, the following comments were anyways), I wondered about my choice to have "busy part time mother" on my blog header. Mothers who have full custody of their kids sometimes use this term to describe their lives as mother/employee, and it seems that Stay at home mums are "full time mothers". I know that it's a very hard choice to make to either stay at home with your child or go out into the working world and put your kid in daycare - I went back to full time work when Spice was 15 months old, out of need to earn money in order to save for our wedding. I quit this job while I was pregnant with Sugar, and stayed at home with both of them until Sugar was 9 months, when I went and did a full time course, and then left for Australia. When I came back obviously, I didn't have the kids a whole lot (not my choice) and I studied part time and worked part time and was a mother part time.
It doesn't mean I love my kids any less. In fact, if I hadn't gone to work/study or whatever, I would have quite possibly gone mad. Even after the last week of having Sugar home with me all week, I have felt a little less "me" and much more housebound. I have loved having her here, and we have done alot of fun stuff like making playdough and painting and baking, but alot of the time she is on the couch watching TV or playing in her room. I haven't had time to do any study, and even my usually spotless house (cleanliness obsession) is a little more messy.
I don't want to be a full time stay at home mum. Hats off to those who can - obviously mums who stay at home with their kids are a lot less selfish than I. Before I had kids I always thought that I would thrive on being a SAHM, but it wasn't the case. Probably the best time I had was while I was pregnant with Sugar, and Spice and I attended Playcentre. We had a "cause" and a routine, we belonged to a community and a group which put me around other women with kids the same age as mine. I will forever be a Playcentre advocate. Being inside the house all day and having to constantly come up with new activities for the little ones to do is just not my thing. I need to be out in the world and contribute in some other way. My parenting is fine as "part-time" thankyou very much (this is referring to my choice to work and study, not the custody arrangement).
I want the kids back "full time" but I am in no way making promises that I plan to stay at home with them. Spice is at school, and Sugar will be at school in July. She's in daycare at the moment and I think it's a fabulous place for her to be. Not all daycares are the same, but she has been lucky enough to be placed in a really onto it one.
Even when T-Bone and I have a new baby, will I want to stay at home with him? One of the things I am looking forward to the most is the chance to do my parenting stint all over again from scratch. To not end up with the mess I have been left with from the first marriage. My children from Spike are incredible, I love them to bits and wouldn't change them. But I would change myself, if I could go back. Maybe I was just too young, or maybe I didn't have enough support. Maybe it was both of those things. Because I never had a real "career" to go back to, I always felt like I was missing out on doing something incredible. I need the sense of satisfaction that a job gives outside the home. I have moments of incredible satisfaction when I see the girls develop or do something new, but I need more than this. I need a meaningful existence outside my home.
Three years until that meaningful existence can be really sought. My job at the moment (oh, I forgot I had one - thanks for all the shifts!!) is more of an in-between job. I like working in Mental Health, but I won't be training to be a mental health nurse. It's a tough job with not a lot of financial reward. My job at the moment is better than working say retail or something. I get to be caring and compassionate towards people in their time of need.
So part-time mother I am. But the label I gave myself reflects more on my situation where I don't have full custody. Even though I have the girls part-time, I am still their mother 24 hours a day, as Gina points out. She says that even if the kid goes to school or daycare, that those places will ring you if the kid is hurt or sick, because YOU are their only mother. Obviously Gina does not have children who have a step-mother. Lucky for her. Daycare rang Freckles when Sugar was sick. WHY? I am their mother. I grew them, birthed them, breastfed them, woke up to them in the middle of the night, I have dreams and fantasies about what they will be when they grow up, I am the one woman they they call Mum. But a Step-Mum complicates the mix. Freckles is there when i'm not. And I fucking hate that. Especially since her and Spike have the girls more than I do. I have been shunned and forced into this "part time mother" role. I hate that she is there more than I am. And I need to reinforce that it is not my choice. I am fighting constantly to have more time with the girls.
When T-Bone and I have a baby together, I don't think I will change on the wanting-to-work idea. As much as I would love to have another baby right now, I also don't want to, because I want to (finally) do the nursing programme so that I can have a meaningful career to go back to once i've had enough of staying at home. But having another baby means that I can plug myself into mothers groups, maybe go back to Playcentre and do all those lovely Mumma things. And as I will be older than my first two, maybe I will fit in more and maybe I will find new friends. Being a "socially acceptable age" to be a mother is going to be so much easier. But I cannot do that before I establish my career.
I know that plenty of people in their 30's have their first children, but I never wanted to be an "older" mother. I am almost 27 now, so will be 30 when I finish the Nursing Degree. So 31 or 32 when I have a baby. That's not the problem - T-Bone is 7 years older than me, so I worry about whether or not we will be able to conceive when he is almost 40!
It is important to me that I have a baby with my partner. It is important to me that I spend a whole bunch of quality time with my daughters. It is important to me that I study and start a career. So how do I prioritise that?

A bitter taste in my mouth

2011-11-16T19:57:00.000-08:00

So if you understand a little of the history and how I got this far on my yellow brick road, you will know somewhat of the people who have influenced the journey. Lately I have had a feeling that the Wicked Witch is in action again, something is brewing. There's a couple of things that don't feel right to me...
Let me start with a chapter on L. L and I met as young mums when our oldest kids were 3 months old through a Plunket young mums group. We became good friends, and Spike and I even rented the flat next door to them. We both had plenty of baggage in our pasts, so lots of deep conversations were had on the deck watching our babies play. Her husband was abusive and we could hear them fighting next door, and after a while they split up. L didn't deal well with this, she had a lot of stuff going on. Our friendship ended and we didn't see each other for about a year and a half. She had started to straighten herself out and had met a new bloke and was living with him. And I was a newly single mum, struggling with the same stuff she had when she split with her husband. At this stage the Wicked Witch was living next door to me, so L would often be around when she was around as well. They are very different people - L isn't strong and bossy like the Wicked Witch, so overpowering people can often influence her to do things that her moral compass says no to. And the Wicked Witch is strong and bossy, so she thrives on being "in charge". She attaches herself to weaker people and sucks them dry.
L was so supportive to me while I was dealing with the news that my Dad had cancer, and all while I was starting to crack up she was there to comfort me. She understood me like nobody at the time did, and was like family to me. She was still dealing with some things in her life, and like most people, she had good days and bad days.
While I was in Australia it seemed that the Wicked Witch got her claws into L's life, and unfortunately L went along with the Wicked Witch's side. I don't think in her heart that she really did, though. She came to see me in my new place a few times, and often text me to see how I was. But she had other stuff going in, so I think she just caved and did what was easiest and probably the best thing for her at the time and we stopped being friends. She had a brand new baby to deal with and I was so mixed up that it was unfair to put my problems onto her when she had her own.
But the Wicked Witch stayed strong in L's life and was overbearing, controlling and manipulative. The lies she spun ended up getting back to L, who didn't know any better so she believed them. The Wicked Witch moved to Australia, where she continued to be controlling to both L and Spike. She wrote an affidavit in support of me being UNFIT, spinning many lies and over-exaggerating my past state. The funny thing was that at the time of the affidavit, it had been more than 18 months since I had seen her or L, so they really wouldn't have a clue what was going on. Which is what my lawyer laughed at when she received the affidavits. L was coerced into giving an affidavit as well, although it was very brief and didn't say much. The brutality of the WW's affidavit made me sick to my stomach to think that someone who had that much evil and hatred inside them could have access to my children. It was a seriously sick and twisted thing to do, and everything in there made me look like the worst mother in the world.
L and I recently reconnected again, and so much stuff came out into the open. She told me how the WW had plotted to get the kids taken off me and started the prostitute rumour. She even went as far as scouring the brothel websites to look for photos of "me". Obsessed much? She was dead set on me not ever having contact with the children. She also started the drugs rumour, and I heard third/fourth-hand from old school friends that she had told them that I was a drug addicted prostitute! These are people who I don't have a lot of contact with -mainly facebook if that. So they have no comparison to who I actually am, and people usually believe what they are told. I am upset that she has the right to slander me to people who don't even matter. But it matters to me, because I care what other people think of me. I don't want people thinking that I am some kind of evil monster. There are a select handful of old friends who I feel have been actively avoiding me, and I believe that it has something to do with WW. There are parties I haven't been invited to when I should have been, emails that haven't been replied to, a whole bunch of things that make me think "oh yep, they've heard my new hobby smoking crack and selling my ass! Gee, thanks WW!"

People - it's a load of bollocks. And shame on you for not getting my side of the story before you made an assumption. Shame on you for believing those things of me.

I can't describe how much I hate WW. It's hate that is bigger than hate. It is disgust, pity, sorrow and anger. She is an overbearing negative sulky type of person who is unhappy in her own skin. She has set out to destroy me.
How can I be happy that she will be around my children? I don't ever want them to turn out to be like her.
After spending some time with L and talking through it all she apologised profusely to me. She had tears in her eyes as she said that she was sorry she was ever a part of it - sorry that she hadn't made the effort to truly see if what she was being told by Spike and WW was true. She said that she could see from looking at me, speaking to me, listening to my half of the story and also seeing my beautiful home that there was no way those things were true. She told me that her heart told her to email WW to tell her that she had seen me and that I had changed - I was none of the things that Spike and WW had said I was. The response she got back from WW shocked her; basically WW was "disgusted" that L had even seen me and that she was falling for my lies! Oh, again with the assumptions you silly bitch! L had SEEN with her own eyes and HEARD with her own ears, WW had not. The fact that WW was trying to tell L who she could and could not see just proves how controlling she can be. "I urge you not to believe her lies". "she is guilty on all counts, she will not ever be a nice person, DONT FALL FOR IT LIKE I DID!" ... "She was a whore and on methamphetamine, I believe she still is.".... "I am disgusted that you would consider backing her lies but I know how manipulative she is."... "oh dear god I hope she never has another baby, I hope she is barren!!".... Oh yes you all assuming people, this is from the mouth or fingertips of the saintly and perfect Wicked Witch. That was from the reply that L got after she had emailed WW to say that she had seen me and the rumours were untrue.
I feel sorry for L, that she has been pulled into a situation that isn't her battle to fight. She has enough going on at the moment without being involved in my problems, and I made it clear to her that I didn't want or expect her to write the email to WW. I simply wanted HER to know the truth. She is a good person, someone whom with I am comfortable sharing my thoughts and feelings with even after all the time we spent apart.
I am just getting a little upset at feeling like I have to watch my back. I had a dream the other night that WW went o nursing school and told them her lies, and they believed her and kicked me out and she got my place at nursing school instead. I know that's not going to happen, but it feels like she will try to jeopardize my life in any way she can.
I am bothered by her and I hate that. I'm the kind of person that if a relationship/friendship/situation sours and gets ugly, I will not go out of my way to make life hard for the other person or set out to ruin their lives or anything like that. I will just LET IT GO. But some people don't. Some people are so dead set on getting some warped form of "justice" or payback that they start to manipulate everyone around them to hurt the other person. I hate that she has not or cannot or WILL NOT do that. If I was as low as she is, I would have done something to fuck up her life. But I haven't, have I? I have just taken the crap she has thrown at me.
I needed to get this all off my chest, to get it all out there. Don't people realise that there are two sides to every story? Don't people see that reality is subjective as to your experiences? Don't people see that what they think of as truth is not always truth?
Spice said something about WW the other day, how she was overseas and that she would be back at Christmas time. This makes me incredibly nervous, as every time she has come to New Zealand, shit starts to happen again. Obviously Spike is horribly influenced and controlled by her. Every time she has been in the country, it has been a matter of months before Spike starts a new court crusade, or new allegations pop up. I am over it. I don't know what it will be this time, but I know there is bound to be something.
I'm done with the drama; I am tired of it. I love my children a whole heap, and I care for them in all of the ways any good parent can.
I am a good mother. I love them, provide for them, take care of them when they are sick and nurture them. If anyone says anything different, they better damn sure have some rock-solid evidence that I am not.

I Hate the Bank

2011-11-15T12:59:00.000-08:00

GRRRR. This is a GRRRR post about a bank.. I hate banks. Recently I switched banks because my old bank were incredibly unhelpful when I asked them for a temporary overdraft, and also because the car and contents insurance I was paying was STUPENDOUS. My car is slightly modified and turbo so I was expecting a bit extra for insurance, but $130 a fortnight!?! Holy Moly. I had opened another account at the new bank (it was meant to be just for savings) and one day I was in there decided to get an insurance quote. $66 a fortnight!!!??? Of course I took it, then rang my old insurance to ask them WHY THE FUCK could another bank offer me a rate that was half of what they were charging me? They offered me no explanation, didn't try to match the new bank's insurance offer or even apologise for stealing my money for an entire year. I was so annoyed that I closed all of my accounts that day. This bank was crap.
T-Bone is with the same new bank I am with now, and for about a billion months now he has been looking at buying his brothers workshop which he has worked at for years and years. In August we first approached the bank about getting a business loan, and were put onto someone who "could" help us. I thought everything was going smoothly and from what i've heard, a business loan shouldn't take too long to process, so we planned to take over the shop at the beginning of October. We got all the paper work that this lady needed. Didn't hear from her in two weeks... I started to get annoyed, and T-Bone had been ringing and leaving messages with her which she never returned. Finally I got hold of her and she asked us to come in to give her some more details. We gave her the paperwork we needed, and she said that someone from the insurance department would contact us to make an appointment blah blah. By this time October was approaching and I knew we would have to put it off until November.
T-Bone couldn't get hold of this lady for six weeks. The bank were completely useless at helping; it seems that the lady was a personal loans manager, not a business loans manager and actually had done nothing. She hadn't even given us an application form to fill in, so the loan had not been in any way processed. Nobody at the insurance department knew about us. Even the business loans people didn't know about us!
So, no chance of taking over in November. Now, finally after storming into the bank demanding (T-Bone is soooo good at confrontation), finally we were passed onto a business manager. Who now requires us to fill out a whole heap of forms which have 'bank lingo' that I don't understand, as well as get MORE paperwork from T-Bone's brother about the financial details of the business. And still, we haven't been approved the loan. So hope of taking over in December is fading.. but fingers crossed it will happen and T-Bone will take over on the 1st of December.
Banks are meant to do anything they can to take your money, right? Why the fuck did it take this long to get this far? Why didn't the original lady who was useless pass us onto someone who knew what they were talking about?
A frustrating and very stressful time at the moment. It's a big step to take over a business, especially as T-Bone's brother seems to have some debts. It will be registered under a new company name, so all the tax, power and lease agreements will be fresh and debt free. But we have no idea what we are doing! The IRD website has been helpful in telling us what to do, but mostly we are going in blind. Adding more stress onto stress!

Chickenpox and Exams...

2011-11-14T11:42:00.000-08:00

I've been super busy the last couple days. On Wednesday about lunchtime I got a phone call from Freckles to say that Sugar's daycare had phoned and that she had chickenpox! My first though was "aww poor baby" and my second thought was "why didn't they phone me?" Daycare know that I pick them up on Wednesdays, and they have my contact details... so why didn't they phone me?
Back to the story. Freckles had picked Sugar up, but couldn't stay at home with her so she asked me to come and get her. This was one of those torn-between-two things, as I had an exam at 2pm, and T-Bone had arranged to leave work early to collect the girls. I was going to use those precious hours before the exam to study (cram). But my baby was sick, so I picked her up and took her back to T-Bone's workshop, and left for the exam.
It was Human Development - a stupidly broad intro paper that I didn't have to do but for some reason wanted to. I wasn't overly confident going into the exam as I had only focused on four of the eight lifespan topics, and all I could think about was poor Sugar's spots. But I got through the exam and even felt confident leaving (they're never as bad as I think they will be).
T-Bone had picked Spice up from school so they were all home when I got there. I had made an appointment for the doctors in the morning, so gave Sugar some paracetemol and a baking soda bath and sent her to bed. She seemed fine - bright, alert and not terribly spotty at this stage.
When we woke up the next morning, she had about 30 more spots on her tummy, neck and back.The doctor said yes, defiantly chickenpox as the sores had the little fluid-filled blisters. He gave me a whole array of medicines to dose her with. Even at bath time, she had more spots.
I kept Spice at home from school Thursday and Friday as well, even though she had no spots I was sure she would break out in the any minute. But she didn't! Spike had asked me if I could have the girls while they were sick and of course I said yes. They are my children, I am their mother and it is my duty and privilege to nurse them while they are sick. Funny though, how it's fine for me to have them when it's convenient for him (school holidays and when they are sick) but any other time he labels me "selfish" and "negligent" and "unfit", and decides he wants my contact to be supervised! Hmmpfff.
Friday, Sugar had so many spots and more were coming up every time I looked at her. By Saturday morning she had them everywhere... even one on her lip and one on her eyelid. She was being dosed with paracetemol every four hours, soaked in Pinetarsol and her spots covered in calamine lotion. In other words everyone, I WAS TAKING CARE OF HER PROPERLY. Oh my god! it's a miracle! Mooze is not being neglectful! (intentional sarcasm,)
I was just about to go to bed at half eleven on Saturday night when Sugar woke up crying. She had been really miserable that day and spent the day in bed sleeping and watching DVDs. I felt her forehead and she was boiling hot! Her temp was 40 degrees, so I gave her paracetemol and decided that if her fever wasn't down in 20 minutes that I would take her to the hospital. As well as being scared for my little girl (images on seizures and needles flashed through my head) I was also thinking "oh yeah, they're gonna blame this on me." It's sad, but I immediately thought that Spike and Freckles would automatically think that I hadn't been taking care of her and negligently let her temperature get to 40. Fuck em. I KNOW I gave my daughter everything she needed and was attentive.
The temp went down to 39.6 but I wasn't happy, so I bundled her in the car and drove to the hospital. Sugar was stripped off and sponged with cold flannels and given two iceblocks to each. They gave her some Brufen to try to get her temp down more. Aside from being hot and tired, she was pretty bright at moments. I had called Spike on my way to hospital (I hope, but don't expect, that he would have done the same thing) and he said he was coming to the hospital. About 40 minutes after I arrived with Sugar, Spike AND Freckles walked through the door. That, I was not expecting. It was very awkward when the doctor came in and looked confused as to why there were TWO women sitting next to the sick child. It was actually just very awkward all round. I felt like I had to PROVE myself to them, which is so, so unfair. I went through the details of oh yes, I gave her Pamol at this time and this time. I could feel their accusing eyes just not believing me. WHY?? I have never put the kids in danger. I have always cared for them.
Sugar's temp came down within a few hours so we went back home for a sleep. Spike asked me if I would have Sugar for the rest of the week and I happily said yes. I know it's not because he trusts me to take care of MY OWN FUCKING DAUGHTER, it's because it's convenient for him - he will not have to take any time off work.
But I am loving all of the time I am getting with Sugar. We don't get a lot of one on one time, so it has been really nice. She is perking up and her spots are starting to scab, she hasn't been itching thankfully, and her temperature is pretty stable the last few days.
I had another exam on Monday morning, so my mum took time off work to watch Sugar while I was there. But again, lost the precious cramming time. I guess it's just one of those sacrifices. But that's all the exams over and done with! Yay!
Sugar and I are going to make playdough from scratch today and do some painting. Having a sick girl be at home with me has been lovely... it's made me feel like a "real" mummy, that I can do something that is my job for them. Sugar's spots are going away, and Spice hasn't got any.... YET. So I may be in for another round of this illness at my place!

Just when you think the rollersocaster is going to stop...

2011-11-10T11:30:00.000-08:00

... it speeds off and you're in for round two.
This is a STUPID time of year and i'm going to be in a shitty mood for the next few weeks.
This coming Saturday is the day my Dad died. A couple weeks after he died a whole lot of other important emotional shit happened, but I don't want to write about it. Lets just say that it still hurts and I am still upset about it.
Since grieving for my Dad was overtaken by this other drama, i'm not sure how I will feel on Saturday. I miss him and I love him for sure, but i'm glad that he died. Because he was in so much pain, his body was so frail, he couldn't live life the way he wanted to (mother fucking stroke). He had no quality of life after that stroke. I think he would have dealt with the cancer treatments a whole lot better if he had the full use of his body. I'm glad that he was released of his pain, but I hate the fact that Cancer took him. If I met cancer I would punch it in the face. I wish he never had cancer, I wish he was still around. But because he did get the cancer, it makes me glad to think he is no longer in pain from it. What a mixed bag.
I still haven't had any work and it is starting to drive me a little mad. I need to get out of the house! I WANT to work! I applied for a couple more jobs yesterday and I really hope I hear something soon. The money situation is frightening me.
To add to the fun/stress, the girls have got chickenpox! Well, Sugar was sent home from daycare on Wednesday with a handful of spots. By the evening they had doubled, and by the next morning they had tripled! Poor little thing. I kept Spice home from school as well in case she already has the virus but doesn't have the spots yet.. Sugar is dealing with it very well and hasn't been scratching her sores, with the help from alot of calamine lotion, pamol, antihistamines and pinetarsal baths! Spice hasn't got any spots yet but it's only a matter of time...
So for the next few days they are all mine... mine to mother while they are sick. I am so glad I can do this. I know that Spike only agreed to let me have them because he can't take time off work to look after them, but I want to have them here. It's fine if it's fine with him- like during the school holidays and when they are sick. But the minute I am not doing him a favour he suddenly changes his tune and says I am an irresponsible and slack parent. Ie: child support. We had agreed at our last mediation that I would pay some of Spice's after school care costs (I have always disagreed that I should be liable for this cost - it's not my business if he can't pick the kids up from school. She doesn't go to after school care on my days because me or T-Bone can always pick them up), however a week afterwards I received a letter from IRD saying that he had applied to me to pay child support, although we had agreed in mediation that I would pay child support directly to the after school care people. When I questioned him about breaking the agreement, he said he was sorry and had sent the letter off because he was mad at me, but he still needed me to pay him an extra $40 a week! HAHAHAHA..... don't think so buddy.
I am totally against having to pay for childcare that is only needed because of his lifestyle. He pays an enormous amount of daycare costs, and before and after school care costs for Spice. If they were in my care, it would be a different story. Also, the cost difference between the different areas are HUGE! I rang around day cares out my way and they differ by $150 per week. If he chooses to live in an affluent area where prices are put up because people in that area can afford it, then that should be up to him to pay it.
I'll happily pay the IRD child support, but I hate the thought of it going straight in his pocket, which is why I wanted to pay directly to the after school care people. I struggle enough to provide the girls with a wonderful, warm and clean home while they are at my place. Why should I pay him? He's the one who wanted them full time because i'm so "incompetent". I want them back full time, or second best, 50-50. When I told him that I would not being paying his extra money his response was "I knew you hadn't changed, Your the most selfish irresponsible person I know. Grow up and start providing for your kids!"
I do! I do provide for them. I just refuse to provide for HIM. The girls have all the luxuries at my place. TV and playstation in their room, beautiful clothes, too many toys and always heaps of food in the cupboard.
So if i'm such an incompetent, irresponsible mother, why have I got the girls at my place now? Why did I drive them to their local doctor (in Spike's area) to get them checked out? It's ok for me to have the girls when it is convenient for him. I'm not saying that I am resentful for having them while they are sick, because I want them here. I want to do my job as a mother to look after my babies while they are unwell. That's what mothers do. I'm just saying that the only time he doesn't oppose me wanting more time with them is when it suits him.
It's nice being able to look after them when they are sick. It makes me feel like an actual real mother. I miss out on so much other stuff - when Spice lost her first tooth, and her second. Day to day achievements and activities they do that I have no idea about. I hate missing out on this stuff.

Births

2011-11-08T13:20:00.000-08:00

I was watching the 16 & Pregnant marathon on MTV recently (damn, I love that show) and started to get frustrated. Stupid 16 year old having babies. Stupid America for not knowing how to teach women about labour.
All of these girls are labouring lying down on the bed! On their backs! All of the time! You don't see them getting up and walking around, squatting to help the baby move into position, or rocking on a swiss ball. They just lie in the bed and then a nurse comes in and says "oh, you aren't progressing It's time we intervened and give you a drip/epidural/c-section" and the silly little girls just say oh yes. Because that's what they know.
From what i've seen on the show, all of the girls are under a hospital obstetrician, deliver in hospital usually with intervention. I guess it has something to do with the medical insurance over there? Not sure.
But over in New Zealand, we are so damn lucky to have most of our pregnant women be cared for by midwives, many of who encourage natural birth (um, because we, as women, were designed to give birth) with minimal intervention. In our hospitals, women are encouraged to get up and walk around, to try different positions, to use a birthing pool, to use a swiss ball. It's fantastic! I would hate to be birthing in America. Reading one of my favorite Blogs, The Feminist Breeder, Gina wrote an entry about the appalling intervention rate in America. Yay, one American woman knows their system is fucked! Read it here, it's a great post.
Got me thinking about how lucky I was to have midwives who listened to my wishes and helped me achieve beautiful natural births with my daughters, so I decided to get my birth stories out of me.

Spice's Birth: March 2005
This was my first baby, but my second pregnancy. I was over the moon when we found out we were having a little girl. We had moved from Christchurch to Auckland while I was pregnant, and were living in a self-contained flat under my mum's place. When we moved I had to find a new midwife, and was lucky enough to meet Eleanor, who lived just up the road from us. She was a homebirth midwife, happy to deliver our first baby at home. I had read up on birth and labour and the horrible things they do in hospitals, and I was dead set on having a homebirth with a birthing pool.
At 35 weeks I had some blood tests done and they showed a big ass drop in my platelet count (platelets make your blood clot, so pretty important for after the birth when you want to stop bleeding). The midwife said it was called Thrombocytopenia, and unfortunately it meant that my homebirth would not be possible, as there was a possibility that I could hemorrhage after I had delivered the baby. I cried, I was so upset. Hospital to me meant that people were going to interfere in my birth plan, they were going to restrict my movements and make decisions for me.
Three days before my due date, after an exhausting walk up hills and around the beaches, I settled down into bed. I got up about 1am needing a really big poo. Went to the loo and I swear I crapped out half my body weight. Went back to bed and continued getting "poo pains" in my lower back. They got stronger in the next couple of hours, and moved to my belly. I woke Spike up and we timed the contractions, and they were about 6 minutes apart (this is 3am). I phoned my midwife just to let her know, and she told me (reminded me - she had told me a few weeks earlier) that she was having two days off! So I rang her backup midwife, and Eleanor rang her student Angelique, who had been present at all of my appointments. I was to ring them back with the contractions were closer together, and get going to the hospital.
I rocked on the swiss ball, breathed through my contraction, and when they were 3 minutes apart and lasted 50 seconds, we decided that we would go to the hospital. It was only a 10 minute drive, but I kept contracting in the car and the bumps made them even more painful!
We got to the hospital at 5:30am, and the back up midwife and the student midwife met us there. I was encouraged to find positions that worked well for my body and to keep moving if I wanted. I took the gas for pain relief (or kinda a little bit to get a buzz of the gas - I freaking love gas. If I could buy that at a tinny shop I would), and at 7am I got into the shower and made the midwife hold the shower head on my back. It felt good!
About 8.30 I decided that I felt like I needed to push, so I got on all fours, leaning over the side of the bed for support. With only half an hour of pushing, my beautiful baby girl was delivered at 9:04am!
I got up on the bed with her while they delivered my placenta, and stared star-struck at my beautiful baby. I didn't need any stitches, despite it being a reasonably fast delivery (half an hour of pushing is pretty great!), and two hours later we went home with our baby. I didn't want to stay at the hospital, as my midwife was just a few minutes away if I needed help or advice, and I wanted very much to be in my own environment.
So 7 and a half hours of labour, 30 minutes of pushing and a lovely 3.2kg girl later we were home with little Spice.

Sugar's Birth: July 2007:
After our wedding, Spike and I decided to try for another baby. We got pregnant almost instantly, which was a surprise. Spice was about 20 months, and I was working full time. The morning sickness was horrible and I was constantly sick. I was so sick, all day long (it actually got worse in the afternoons) and I decided I would have to leave my job.
Being home with Spice was wonderful. We went to Playcentre and met other mums with small kids. I loved doing all the messy play with her. I was still having morning sickness right up to 8 months, although during the last trimester it got less, and I threw up probably every second or third day.
Since we had found out the sex of our baby last pregnancy, we decided to have a surprise this time round. We were both sure it was a boy. When my due date approached, we went for a lot of walks, I cleaned constantly (wash, dry, fold, unfold, re-fold, put away washing) and was looking after a very active toddler. We had to find a new midwife for this baby, as our last one moved back to England. After a few appointments with one midwife, I wasn't happy with her as I felt she wasn't really hearing me. She kept saying things like "we'll see" and "I don't like my women to go more than 5 days past their due date" etc. So I followed my gut and found a new midwife, Debbie, who was fantastic. She was a homebirth midwife who was experienced in homeopathic remedies, and even though we knew from my blood count that I had thrombocytopenia again and couldn't have a safe home birth (despite not bleeding much after my last birth), she was committed to delivering the baby as naturally as possible at the hospital.
My due date came. I was still pregnant, and got so sick of the phone calls asking if I had had the baby yet. STUPID people, if I had had the baby, I would have phoned YOU!
As the days went on and I wasn't showing any signs of labour, Debbie gave me homeopathic remedies to take to encourage labour to start. We did everything; spicy food, sex, walking, rocking... 10 days after my due date Debbie did a stretch and sweep, and gave me some more homeopathic stuff to take. The baby was in a good position, all ready to go. But Debbie said that if we went past 14 days that I would need to be induced. She took all the safety precautions, I had bloods and a scan to make sure the baby was happy, and I saw the midwife every second day to check how things were going.
12 days overdue, and I knew that tomorrow or the next day I would probably be induced. I was very upset about it, thinking all sorts of horrible things were going to happen like I would need a epidural (no way that fucking huge arse needle is going in my SPINE!) and then the inevitable would happen and I would have to have a c-section... I was pretty uptight. We went to bed that night, and I was crying and telling the baby to pretty much get the eff out of my tummy.
At 11.15, while lying in bed I felt my waters break.I jumped out of bed when I felt them and they splashed on the floor. I woke up Spike and told him, then went to clean myself up. I had two contractions, 5 minutes apart, and so I phoned Debbie. I phoned my mum to come and look after Spice while we went to the hospital, but the contractions were getting stronger and faster and so I phoned her back to tell her to drive faster! haha, she went through red lights to get to our place quicker.
As soon as mum arrived, we left for the hospital. We got there at 12:10 and my contractions were 3 minutes apart. Debbie met us there, and started to fill up the birthing pool. I got in the pool while it was still filling up, it wasn't even a quarter of the way full when I told Debbie I needed to push. I got out of the pool (with alot of help and screaming) and got onto the bed. My body wanted to push so badly, but Debbie said I wasn't fully dialated so I had to stop myself. This was at 1am. At this stage I asked for gas to help (and get a buzz), and after 10 minutes the midwife checked again and I was good to go.
I started pushing, and surprise surprise, after THREE MINUTES of pushing, the baby came out!! She was born at 1:13am, after a TWO HOUR labour...
Debbie held her up and I remember looking at her and saying "she has a fanny!" we were so surprised that she was a girl!
I fed her, had a shower, and around 3am decided I would like to go home, but the hospital midwives wouldn't let me leave until 6am (grrr) so we tried to sleep (couldn't) and left at 6 am to take our surprise girl to meet her big sister.
I was so lucky to have such a very very quick and easy birth with Sugar, I came away without stitches which I am very glad for. Even such a late baby can result in a natural birth!!

So one 7 and a half hour labour and one two hour labour... pretty good at this birthing business. I know i'm not done having my kids, I'd like one more. Any more than three kids and i'd have to drive one of those awful people mover things. GROSS. lol.
I just hope that my next birth will be as wonderful as the last two.

Maybe it's not over..

2011-11-07T13:38:00.000-08:00

After a chat with Studylink about my student allowance ending and my current work situation (its crap) I decided to do a summer school paper after semester 2 ends... I know, it's more work and I won't have a nice long break in between finishing this diploma and starting the Bachelor of Nursing, but I kinda need to keep my student allowance. The paper is a human bioscience one so it will be helpful for me for next year. I left school after 5th form (I just turned 16) and my last year at school was pretty much playing music and smoking pot. So I didn't catch anything they said in science... I was even asked not to sit the exam as I just hadn't been in class enough to learn anything.
Which makes it miraculous for me why I have received such great grades throughout my University work. I sit on an A- average, which i'm super proud of. My downfall is doing exams; I get great marks in assignments but when it comes to exams I freak out. I always walk away thinking "fuck, i've fucked it all up" and then get my mark and its a good one... I underestimate my ability to do this stuff.
Last semester I was doing a health studies paper, and I had to do this assignment. I did it last minute, which isn't really like me, and I half-arsed it all the way. I read the expectations, and I did what they asked. I pretty much fell over when I got the paper back and I was graded an A+. The tutor emailed me and asked if he could use my assignment in the following years study guide as an example of an exceptional essay. I was amazed, stoked and confused.
I am so capable of doing all of this study. My brain loves to learn. Even if I have to force myself to do the readings and revision, I am capable of it.
But since this will be my first science type paper, I am nervous. I was always very good at English and writing at school, however I was terrible at maths and science. Maybe because they didn't interest me and at the time my focus was on my immediate wants and desires, not doing things I didn't want to do because they would pay off in the long run.
Now, I know that as adults we need to do things we don't like doing so that we can reap the rewards later on. It's not that I won't like learning anatomy stuff, it's just that I have never tried it. I am questioning my capabilities, when I really shouldn't.
My work situation is crap at the moment. I was invited to not take a full time role at my current job (I am working as a casual) because I don;t have a full drivers license.. there is no reason for me to not have one; i've had a restricted license for almost 6 years... it's just i've never had the spare money to go and get one. I haven't had any shifts at work the last week, and I am disappointed and stressed out about the money situation. Here comes some practice for depending on T-Bone for supporting us financially. At least the student allowance will stay. It's minimal and nobody could live off it, but it helps.
I am missing the girls today. I had a dream last night that today was Wednesday and I could go and pick them up, but I woke up and it's just Tuesday :( I won't be able to pick them up tomorrow afternoon (T-Bone will) because my exam starts at 2 and goes till 4, so I will get home around 5 I think.
So no, I won't have any kind of study break for a while. But I know it's for a good cause and I know that it's the right thing to do, just gotta do it.

Comparisons

2011-11-06T12:20:00.000-08:00

Just been thining/stewing over how people can make comparisons of others. I am guilty of this. Even though I try to step into other people's shoes, see things from their perspective, and hear the whole story, it doesn't always come naturally for me.
What makes someone better or worse than another? How often have we been guilting of saying "well, I wouldn't do that!" or judging another's circumstance without knowing the full story?
This frustrates me.
Judgement Day should be reserved for the day we go to meet God, not every time we go to the supermarket or playground.
But I guess it's something that is inbuilt in humans - the need to feel greater than another. Working hard to be great at something isn't what I mean. All power to those people who slog away to get Phd's or master a craft. What I mean is how people get a kick out of being a better part of society than another. What makes one better than the other?
I have felt peoples opinions of me drop when I tell them I am divorced or don't have the girls all of the time. Having a baby at 20, I certainly felt the judgement of people through disgusted looks, being ignored in playgroups and off-handed comments.
I am guilty of this. Looking down on someone I mean. And you know what it was about it that made me do it? Finally, I had found someone who was worse than me. It made me feel better. It was about how low of an opinion I have of myself. Comparing myself to a mother whose kids had been forceably removed from her by CYFS made me feel like I wasn't the worst parent ever. Knowing a mother who drugged her kid with Pamol every night because "it makes him sleep better" made me feel like a better parent. Meeting someone who had no qualifications and worked at a supermarket made me feel better.
This part of myself disgusts me. Here I am thinking it's so unfair how all these hoity-toity mothers that pick their kids up from the same school Spice goes to can look down at me, when actually I am doing it to other people.
But what if it's for a reason? Is it our moral compass saying "thats a person I never want to be" or "I never want to be in those circumstances" or "she could do so much better"?
There's a girl I know. She has two kids to different dads. She is an alcoholic - she has to have a drink by 10 in the morning otherwise her hands will start to shake. She is on a benefit, and works sometimes for cash under the table. She spends most of her money supporting her wine addiction; so much so that she relies on food parcels and WINZ to pay her power bill. At Christmas time the Salvation Army gave her kids presents. She has no qualifications, she lives week to week and if she needs something she assumes that there will always be someone there to hand it to her. She is constantly broke.
How can I not judge this? I've been on a DPB before and let me tell you, i got more than I get now working a 40 hour week. So no excuses that she lives in poverty because she is forced into it. Her children are old enough for her to work full time and not live off tax payers money.
My inner high-horse says "I never want to be like her. I never want to live in that circumstance." Is she not just an example of someone I don't want to be?
We all have role-models and people we look up to, right? People with qualities we strive to match, people that impress us and drive us to succeed because we see what their qualities could bring us. So these people we look down on, are they not just another way of pointing us in the right direction?

I'm sounding like a right bitch. I'm sorry. Don't say that I dont fully understand this woman's circumstances, because I used to bloody live with her. I'm sure she has some judgements of me of her own. I just needed to mull this over with myself and get it out of my system.

"Do not compare yourself to others, for you may become bitter or vain"

Exam time

2011-11-05T13:42:00.000-07:00

So this is my last semester of doing a Diploma of Rehabilitation at University. It basically covers all psychiatric disabilities and rehab methods, as well as a few drug & alcohol papers, Human Development and some Social Policy stuff.
Thank God it's almost finished.
As you may have read, I started Uni by distance learning at the start of 2010, when I had just got back from Perth and my life had no direction. Studying was a perfect "fix-it" tool for me; my energy went into something other than having a pity party. I started off doing two papers, then in the second semester I did four - two by distance and two on campus. Campus learning didn't suit me; my lectures and tutorials were scattered and I didn't like having to schedule work and kids time around part time study. So in Semester 1 of 2011 I went back to distance learning and did 3 papers, which was a nice number. I did 3 more in this second semester, even though there was only one I needed to do to get my Diploma, there were other papers that interested me.
When I started off at Uni, I had enrolled for a Bachelor of Arts in Psychology and Rehabilitation. I HATED the psych papers! Why do they always start off with boring, crappy topics like how to write a research paper?
I switched to a Bachelor of Health Science in Rehab, but figured that after three years of study I would graduate with no definitive job prospects.
Since I have wanted (and tried) to do Nursing since I was 19, I decided that it was now or never. I switched to a Diploma in Rehab, as the papers I had already done made up most of the requirements, and I didn't want to walk away from 2 years of study with no qualification.
My first attempt at Nursing was before I was pregnant with Spice, in Christchucrh. I had enrolled, been accepted and was excited. Two weeks before he programme started, I found out I was pregnant. So it got put on hold. I thought, "one day".
Before I got married, I thought that it would be a good time to go back and try again. I put all the paperwork together ready to send off, then Spike and I decided it wasn't a good time with Spice being so young. Then, before I left for Perth I put in an application for the beginning of 2010 and was accepted, however when I returned in November, I pulled out, knowing that it would be too much for me to handle at that stage.
But now, it looks like I will really be doing it next year. I have an absurdly supportive partner who knows that it's the best thing for our future, and will support me through studying full time on campus. I am older now, and have some better life experience, and also am more committed.
Basically, I can't wait to get these last few exams out of the way, graduate and start it all over again in February next year.
I know that Nursing is what I am meant to be doing with my life. The road to getting to this point was bumpy, but i'm just about there. I applied somewhere close to home in September, and was nervous to see if I had been accepted or not, as I know that this nursing school has a lot of places reserved for school leavers and Maori/Pacific Island students. As I am white and not a school leaver, I could only hope. When the letter cam in the mail saying the had accepted me I almost cried with happiness.
I've had one exam already, and I have two more in the next 10 days. The first one was for the paper that was compulsory for me to pass to graduate, and I think I did okay. I hate exams, I always stress out too much about them and always end up doing better than expected.
Hopefully the last two will go well, and I can take a couple months study break before it all starts again.

The P-Word

2011-11-04T03:47:00.000-07:00

I guess that my situation is a little different that "normal" families. But what the fuck is a normal family these days anyway?
So, i'm divorced and I don't have sole custody of my kids. Which means I don't qualify for any subsidies that include the kids (like when I was on a student allowance they wouldn't factor in my girls to the going rate because I didn't have them more than 60% of the time - I received a 'single persons allowance' which wasn't even enough to cover 3/4's of my rent). On top of that, I pay child support to my ex. Which I wont go into...
Anyhow. Now that I live with my new partner, it means I am no longer on my own. Emotionally, physically, but I am talking here about financially. If my pay doesn't cut the mustard one week, T-Bone will top me up with what I need.
I fucking hate this.
I hate that he is Providing. (I tried to whisper-type that)
Well, i'm glad that he can provide, I just don't want him to. I want to be independent. Stubborn. Whatever. Go to any lengths to earn my own money and have the right to spend it the way I want (god I love shopping).
What's up with the need to be independent and a bread winner? I have a very decent man who will happily give me what I need from his own pocket because that's what couples do. Right? But I don't want his money. I want my own money! I don't want him to end up resenting that I don't financially contribute as much as he does. I don't want him feeling like he is supporting my kids when its my responsibility.
I'm not sure if this is a normal 'crisis' in the first year of living with someone, or if it's just left over junk from my marriage.
I'm not one of these people who will ask you if I can borrow twenty bucks. I won't even ask my flattie for a ciggie if I run out. I just need to look capable.
WHY THE FUCK?
Who cares if i'm capable? Well, apart from me. It's just that since the family court stuff and all the nasty lies that Spike and the Wicked Witch strung (yes, people, lies, all lies) that I have to disprove, I have felt like I HAVE to be proving myself constantly to other people. To strangers, to family, to the ex, the world, and all you internet folk who probably won't even read this (since at this stage I am writing to myself). I need to prove that I am capable by Providing. Not Depending. Not doing Anything Wrong.
And every time I fuck up just a little bit (like not having enough money in my account for the insurance to come out) I feel like I have failed. Because other people have been so judgemental and critical of my short-fallings, I am now walking on egg-shells just so I DON'T fuck up in any way.
I don't want to give them any more excuses to call me a bad person or a shitty mother. I need to be capable. Please notice that I haven't said perfect. Who the fuck is perfect?
I was reading a blog, The Feminist Breeder today, and Gina posted about mothers on their "high-horses", well I laughed so hard I almost wee-ed. It reminds me of the Wicked Witch. Although she isn't even a mother so wouldn't actually have a clue about the emotional roller coaster, she did have a pretty close view of my kids while she was living next door to us. And always on her high horse, she would criticise. OF COURSE she knew best! Well, she had read the books!
After the house landed on the Wicked Witch and I realised I wasn't in Kansas anymore, the fight against her was very hard. She made up lies and wrote them in an affidavit. Things like "Mooze is very unstable. She force fed her daughter mushy peas. She yells at them alot and locks herself in her room. She lets the baby eat the dog poo in the yard." Crap crap crap.
How does one disprove these things?
WW was certain that I was a drug-abusing prostitute, so she went trawling through brothel websites looking at all the photos trying to find me. (someone who is still in contact with WW told me this) Well she didn't. (obviously, I've got a beer/mummy tummy and low self-esteem; not qualities a hooker should possess)
All of her efforts to make me look bad only reinforced in me that I needed to be Competent. I should be able to do everything without help. Because in her eyes, and Spikes, needing help is a weakness.
I know that one day when T-Bone and I eventually have a baby, I will be off work for a while and then once I return, it will probably be part-time. I will have to depend on him to Provide.
That's gonna take some work!

I miss them!

2011-11-03T13:53:00.000-07:00

This week was the first week in the new custody arrangement which means that this weekend I get it COMPLETELY OFF. Which is a miracle. I haven't had a weekend off in... well. I had the girls overnight Wednesday and Thursday. T-Bone dropped them at school on Thursday morning as I had an exam at Uni at 9.15am, and I dropped them off this morning to school.
I had a mixed feeling this morning. I was sad that they weren't going to be with me over the weekend. I won't see them until next Wednesday afternoon, and that thought really makes my heart break. Sugar wouldn't let go of me when I dropped her to daycare, she had a little tear in her eye when she asked me "can we go to the park this weekend?" and I said "it's Daddy's weekend love, Mumma wont see you till Wednesday".
I hate this. I hate this part-time mothering bullshit. I want them back, I want to be there for them all of the time.
I understand that the kids are "half" Spike's, but it feels like his half is bigger than mine. So once again I get consumed with guilty feelings and an overwhelming feeling of loss.
I should be there for them, all of the time, right? I'm their MOTHER for gods sake! I carried them, gave birth to them, breastfed them, loved them, stayed at home with them, went crazy with them.... However I can't and won't blame my breakdown on the kids, there were so many other factors (if you haven't read the history, this would be a good time).
I miss them. I'm missing out on so much, it's not fair.
My partner T-Bone doesn't have any kids of his own, and we have talked about wanting to have a baby some day (not some day soon, too much to do), and I think how on earth am I going to fit it all in? Like what happens when our baby starts school, and I have to pick kids up from two different schools in two different areas? How is that going to work? Will my girls feel like they have been replaced? Will a new baby mean that I have less time to do more things with my girls? Will Spike hold that against me and decide that "i don't care" about the girls anymore and he starts a new court battle? But if we have a new baby, it will mean that I get that baby all to myself. I will be there for all the important moments I miss with Sugar and Spice. I would get to do it all over again, and I would bloody well do it alot better.
It comes down to this. I love them, I miss them, and I don't want to wait until Wednesday to see them. I want them all of the time, I want to be the main caregiver and let Spike be the part-time parent. Because as often as I have justified my decision to myself, everyone around me and now also the internet, it was a shitty one. And I want my damn kids back.

Sewing Mania

2011-11-02T21:03:00.000-07:00

Every now and then I will come down with a horrible, debilitating case of sew-your-self-crazy fever, and spend far too much money at Spotlight. It used to be clothes for the kids when they were smaller, because it didn't take up alot of fabric and they were quick to make. I dabbled in patchwork quilting when both girls were babies, although my squares were always uneven and I could never fit the fabric through the machine to make it all nice quilted looking. So i'm a half-arsed sewer. I don't often use patterns, don't often follow sewing rules, and don't often join my seams. Hehe.
But I LOVE sewing.
Last week I was going through my big giant bags of fabric looking for something I could make Halloween costumes with, when I found a quilt I had started over 18 months ago. It was meant to end up as a double sized quilt, and I had pre-cut strips of lovely complimenting fabric so that I would end up with a patchwork that had 1 1/2 inch squares all over. So there was no chance of re-using the fabric for anything else since it had already been cut. I would have to finish the farking quilt.
Funny thing about quilting, someone mentioned it to me one day when I said "oh, i'm making a quilt for Sugar's bed." They said "hmm, you are purchasing fabric, cutting it up.... then sewing it back together?" Hmm. Yes, but in a lovely pattern!!
Ive only ever made quilts in squares and triangles or long strips. None of this incredible fancy hand-stitch stuff they show on the Quilt show. Its not terribly impressive. I couldn't sell it, and i'm not sure I could even gift it. But I love doing it.
So, back to the discarded quilt. When I had bought the fabric donkeys ago, I had loved the colours so much. I had big plans for this quilt. I sewed it day and night when I first returned from Perth and lived alone. But the quilt had got folded up and put away when I got sick of it. So when I stumbled upon it last week, I decided that it had to be finished. On inspection, I had done a horrible job. One edge was shorter than the other. The seams didn't match (they never match). But I went through the laborious task of finishing the top, then attaching the backing, and finally today I did the binding. All very half arsed. I know that the definition of a "Quilt" is something that has been "quilted" all fancy like, but I don't have time for that. It is a patchwork blanket if you like. Whatever. It's done.
Now! Onto the next project!

Well enough of all that poppy-cock

2011-11-01T21:13:00.000-07:00

Now that i've got all that nasty back-ground crap out of the way I can start talking day to day crap. And hopefully my word count will come down (so, so sorry about my ramblings. Uni gives me a 1500 word essay and I always turn out 2300. Just the way i'm built)...
Today is another wonderful Wednesday in which I have picked the girls up from school and daycare. I haven't seen them since Sunday, so around this time of the week I start to miss them alot. Miss 6 going-on-26, Spice jumps in the car when I swing in the carpark at school. (Note: I have an awful lot to say about this car park, the rant will come another day)
I was all good-mummy like "Hiii Honey, how was your day?"
"Grunt. Good."
"Okaayy.. what did you do today babe?"
"I don't know."
FRUSTRATION. What does she mean she doesn't know? What's the point in her going to school if she can't remember what she did? Does she have some terrible memory disorder? Or is she already at the stage where she doesn't care to offer info to mum? Other kids come running out of the school almost screaming, "MUUUM!! Guess what I did today! OMG you won't beleive it!" (or thats how I imagine it)
Homework time. Sweet wonderful Mum comes out
"So do you have to read these tonight?"
"I don't know."
"Okaayy... Why did they come home with you then?"
"I don't know." pause... "can i watch TV now?"
Mummy giggles, "I don't know."
Throws school books up in the air and retreats to the garage to ponder what she DOES know.

Half way up the Mountain

2011-11-01T04:58:00.000-07:00

After a year back in NZ sorting myself out, starting Uni and work, my Dad's passing and a new found role as 'part-time' mum, 2011 took a different turn. In April I decided my living situation (living with another single mum and her two kids) wasn't working out and so I decided to look for a place of my own. A change of scenery, something beautiful but affordable. Somewhere the girls and I could call home. Now, Spike and Freckles live in a rather well off part of Auckland. Something along the lines of Freckles grandmother buying a house for them to live in; ie they probably don't have to pay any rent. The upside is that my daughters get to go to a fantastic school. Downside is that the only place I could afford in that area was a two (more like one + large cupboard) bedroomed flat in a block of 5. Old, crusty, shitty. No deal.
So I moved from the Shore to South Auckland. Didn't mind moving south as that was where I was brought up (insert horrible memories of being bullied at high school) and the houses were a lot cheaper. So much so that I was able to move into a beautiful 7 year old modern home with EVERYTHING on my wish list. Double garage, three bedrooms, fenced back yard, quiet street, alarm, and most of importantly, an en suite and dishwasher :) Couldn't believe my luck. And since T-Bone worked out that way, he moved in with us.
I had started another semester of Uni and was studying extramural papers again which worked for me with picking up the kids etc. The custody arrangement at this time was I would have the girls every weekend (Friday pick up from school until Sunday evening) and on Wednesdays I would pick them up from school, drive 30 minutes home, make dinner, give dinner and drive them back to Spike's by 6pm. One weekend a month, I got Friday and Saturday night off but the girls were dropped off at 9am on Sunday mornings. So it wasn't exactly a weekend off. Around this time there was another big hoo-har, this time about illegal drug taking and plenty other crap (seems Spike had been listening to a bunch of Wicked Witches and making shit up) and I was served with an affidavit outlining all my "failures" and "inadequacies". This was like no other affidavit before, this was nasty. and it was accompanied by an affidavit from the WW herself and another ex-friend L (months later we got into contact with each other and it seemed that she was overpowered by WW and Freckles demanding her to say things). The affidavit from WW was... unspeakable. Full of incredible lies and over-exaggerations purposely tailored to make me look bad. She was still attempting to make me look bad even though she was now in Aussie! I was absolutely disgusted in what I read. I felt sorry for her. She must have so much anger and hate inside her to write something that foul.
So back and forth through the very very slow Family Court process. T-Bone was beside me the whole way, so supportive all the time. We loved having the girls with us when we did, but it was starting to feel like it wasn't enough. For Gods Sake, my daughter had been at school for more than a year and I wasn't allowed to take her to school in the morning? Even though we were having lots of quality time in the weekends, the Wednesday night wasn't working out for me. By the time I had picked them up from school and driven home, gave them afternoon tea and looked at homework, it was time to start dinner. We were often eating at 5.30 when T got home from work, and I would be hurrying the kids up to finish so we could drive 30 minutes back to Spike's place. Also, not having a single entire weekend to ourselves was frustrating.
There was a major communication breakdown after those affidavits, we were speaking to each other only in the communication book which the children ferried between houses for us.
My lawyer was incredible. She dealt with "emergency" emails when Spike had done something to piss me off etc, and handled herself brilliantly at the hearing. The hearing was to determine if the court would go straight to a trial (yes, a fucking trial, like a damn criminal) and the judge would then decide what was the best for the girls, or we could have a lawyer-led mediation. If no agreement came from the mediation then the trial was our last option. We decided on mediation, and it went so much better than I had anticipated. I'm not supposed to go into details because of confidentiality however. But it was looking like Spike had had enough of having the kids so often. We drew up an agreement that starting in the last term of 2011, the girls would stay overnight at my place on Wednesdays, I'd still have them three weekends, but the first weekend of the month would be his and to make up the time, the girls would stay overnight on the Wednesday and Thursday before. This all was to start to 50-50 custody off slowly, so the girls got used to being at my place on school nights. The plan was for us to share 50-50 custody from the beginning of 2012, so i've got fingers and toes crossed that he doesn't make up another imaginary scenario in which I am on drugs, relapsing into depression etc etc. Anything to make me look like the bad guy. It seems like when everything is going along fine and Spike and I are able to say a few civil words to each other, something hits the fan and he decides he doesn't want to send the girls to my place. Obviously he doesn't think very highly of me, but some of the crap he actually believes is absurd.
So that is why it was such an amazing milestone for me to be able to take my daughter to school last week. She has been in school for a year and a half, and that was the first time I had taken her to school.
It was important to me, because although I do love my time away from them, I love them being here with me. I want them more, I want 50-50 to start off next year. The upside of having them on weekends is that we get to do alot of fun things together. The downside is that they kinda see my place as a holiday home, and I felt like I was missing out on the important part of being involved in their schooling. And even though I drive 40 minutes (morning traffic) there, and then drive home, and then drive back to pick them up from school and then drive home, I DON'T CARE. My petrol costs have skyrocketed, and will do so more next year. But I will have the girls with me more, I will be involved more, and our bond will strengthen.
Its so tough that they live in this well-to-do area of town. I'm not suggesting they have plenty of money, because from the sounds of it they are struggling. Its tough for me because I could never afford to live comfortable in that area. It's tough for the kids because Spice's classmates have parents who have oodles of money and buy their 7 year olds laptops and cellphones and labelled backpacks. I don't want them to be the poor kids in a rich school. That's Spikes decision, and proof that he will continue to hold the power.
I love my kids very much. It's been tough writing this whole story out and there's a bunch of stuff I skipped over, but it has been very healing for me to write it out.
But we are half-way up the enormous mountain, still plenty of rocky terrain and falling rocks to conquer. But we will get there, as a family. I'm so grateful to have T-Bone supporting me through all of this.

He's Gone

2011-10-30T14:42:00.000-07:00

So lets fast forward to the end of 2010. It had been a year since my return from Perth, and my life had changed dramatically. I enjoyed the freedom of not having the girls full time - and yes, people don't like me saying that. Society has ingrained in us Mothers that we should sacrifice sacrifice sacrifice until our soul is empty. I love being a mum. But it doesn't fill me up the way I thought it would. I need other stuff. I need to be a person with a sense of self before I am a good mother. Otherwise the resent sets in. I started doing extramural papers at the start of the year, which was an enormous boost to my self-worth. I was learning, going ahead and not stagnating. I got a job working with a Mental Health organisation on a part time basis, which again helped me feel like I was contributing.
In October, my brother had gone to Perth to see Dad, and came back telling me that Dad was very, very unwell and I should make the trip to go and see him. This was a tough decision - my exams were coming up at the beginning of November and if I missed them, the second semester would have been a waste of time. But if I didn't go to Dad, I would kick myself forever. I booked a flight for the day after my last exam, and thankfully Dad held on. He had been admitted to a Palliative care unit in the hospital, and was going downhill fast. When I got to Perth I went straight to the hospital and just didn't leave. My Step-Mum was overwhelmed with stress, and she was glad to have me there to share the burden. I stayed at the hospital for a couple of nights, then my younger sister arrived to share "shifts" with Dad. He was in so much pain, he couldn't speak anymore and was on alot of morphine. He looked so frail... He had lucid moments where he would try and talk to us, but sometimes we couldn't make out what he was saying. I said everything I wanted to say to him before he died.
We were basically living in the hospital. The nurses would drag a squeaky uncomfortable fold out bed into Dad's room for us every night so that someone was always with him. One morning after I had been at the hospital for a solid 24 hours, my Step-Mum arrived around 9.30am and told me I looked awful so I should go home and have a shower and a nap. Dad had been in the same condition for a day or two, so I agreed. I got home, had a shower and had just laid down on the bed when the phone rang.
"He's Gone."
I didn't even cry at that moment. I just panicked and guilt consumed me. The first thing that came in my mind was "I wasn't there! I missed it!" Why did I leave? Why the fuck didn't I just stay with him? Why did he choose that moment to go? Everyone has tried to reassure me that people who are dying will often choose to die in a moment where their closest family or children aren't around. I wouldn't choose to go and die in front of my daughters, so this makes sense. But it does not make me happy. I wanted to be there until the very end for him.
Back at the hospital I cried. He was still warm, but it was fading. Step-Mum and I held onto each other as we said our goodbyes. We went home beaten. Not knowing what to do. Neither of us had ever needed to organise a funeral before. What do we do first? We both shared the awful task of ringing our friends and family to tell them the news. Sometimes we didn't even need to say it, people just knew what the phone call meant.
That night, Step-Mum and I just sat at the table. We looked at pictures of Dad, but we could hardly speak. So we did what Dad would have done, and broke out the booze. Step-Mum, being Irish, was used to this custom, and apparently it was the only thing that would get her to sleep that night.
We met with a funeral director and picked out a coffin. Dad would have objected; the coffin cost more than my car. We picked out flowers and poems for the funeral director to read. We both wanted to say something at the funeral, but how the hell do you put those feelings into words?
We sat around one evening going through all Dad's CD's trying to pick funeral songs. That was hard. We chose a couple, one of them being a song recorded by a friend of Dad and Step-Mum, Rick Steel. Rick had appeared at fundraisers for Dad, and was a regular local act at the pub where Step-Mum worked. It was a cover of "Forever Young" and the way he sung it chilled me. It was perfect.
The day of the funeral was bright, sunny and ridiculously hot, typical of Perth in November. We gathered at a beautiful memorial garden in the chapel, and waited for Dad to arrive. I felt reasonably strong at this point, and had written something to say at the funeral. He was carried in by his close friends and nephew. The funeral director read poems and a history of his life, then asked if we wanted to speak. Step-Mum had her friend read her tribute on her behalf, as she knew she wouldn't be able to get the words out. I thought I could do it, and got up to read after her. I stood up there and suddenly, my throat blocked up. I couldn't speak. I opened my mouth, and nothing but tears came out. I didn't want to do it. I didn't want to say goodbye to him. The funeral director took my notes and read my tribute to him for me. I just cried.
We got up to put flowers on his coffin while "Forever Young" was playing, and I felt like my legs would collapse. I did NOT want my Dad to go down the hole in his coffin.
But he did. I felt like vomiting.
We went to his local for the "after-party" and I was touched by all the people who came to show their love and support. They told stories about him and drank a beer for him. My sister had organised a whole heap of helium balloons for us to write messages on and then let go. It was a lovely thought, but when I let my balloon go I felt like I was letting him go, and I wasn't ready for that.
A couple days later we collected his ashes, which had been separated into two boxes. It was Dad's wishes for his ashes to be scattered in halves; one in Australia, where he had lived the last part of his life, and half in New Zealand, where he was born and bred. I took those heavy ashes home on the plane with me (yes, got stopped at customs because they thought I was smuggling cocaine), and went home to Auckland fatherless.
T picked me up at the airport, and I drove home with my Dad belted in on the back seat. I grieved for him. I lay in bed listening to his funeral songs over and over, looking at pictures and drinking vodka. One thing that replayed in my mind was how fucking grateful I was that I had spent those three months with him the year before. And how grateful I was that I got to have five days with him before he passed away. How grateful I was that I could go to his funeral. How angry at myself I was for leaving the hospital, for not being able to speak at his funeral. How grateful I was that he was my Dad.
After I got back into the rhythm of life and back to work and spending time with the girls, Christmas came about and T-Bone and I got back together. He patiently understood my crazy outbursts and occasional bed-ridden depression. He always told me that I had done the right thing by going to Perth, that I shouldn't feel ashamed or guilty for leaving the girls because it was for my Dad. I can never get Dad back. I knew that at the time I left, that if I didn't go to him, then I wouldn't be able to make up for it later because Dad wouldn't be there anymore.
It is coming up to Dad's 1 year anniversary. His ashes are still sitting on the bookshelf. I can't let him go yet. I still miss him, and I miss sharing stories and triumphs with him. He would have loved T-Bone. Dad was a big All Black's fan (even got cremated in his All Blacks jacket) so all through the World Cup I thought about how much he would have loved watching the games, and loved watching the All Blacks win. I think about him every day. I am so glad I spent that time with him.
I did feel relief in some ways, that he had died. It meant we could stop waiting for it to happen. It meant that I knew without a doubt that I had done the right thing in going over for him and leaving the kids behind. I wish they had known him better.
Dad was 54 when he died. I was 25, which is too young to lose a parent. He battled for 18 months with lung cancer and withstood the effects of a major stroke. He fought until the end. I miss him.
He's gone, but not forgotten. He's gone, but not alone. He's gone, and I will never get those moments back.
I'm glad I went.

I just left.

2011-10-27T16:56:00.000-07:00

I left.
And now when I think about it (even while I was on the plane to Oz I was questioning my decision) I have no idea how I did it. Spike and his new girlfriend Freckles wanted to play happy families. So they offered to have the girls while I went to Perth for a few months. Here, I must stress, a few months. We agreed that on my return, we would share custody 50-50. Which I was relieved about, since it would mean I could get a break from the kids and start to discover who I was when I wasn't being a wife and mother. That was half of my problem at this stage: my "persona" had been Mooze: Wife and Mother. That's it, apart from those things I was nothing. No career, no pressing hobbies. I loved to sew and write, but those things did not define me the way Wife and Mother did. Now, I needed to go off and be Caring Daughter.
But everything changed when I left. Ohhhhh, how it all changed. The Wicked Witch flew on her broomstick to Spike and Freckle's team, and started spinning a nasty, destructive web of lies. Which she has been doing ever since.
Let me just say, that although leaving my daughters was the hardest and possibly most stupid thing I have ever done, the time I had with my Dad was incredible. Irreplaceable. We got to know each other as adults, I was able to spend more time with him in those three months than I had during my entire childhood. I don't regret going to be with my Dad. I do regret leaving my kids. So it is hard for me to say if it was a good thing or a bad thing. When I was in Oz, I took Dad to his appointments, sat with him watching the pain on his face during chemo, took him for blood tests and helped with his Occupational Therapy. We sat in the burning Perth heat drinking beers and laughing, he told me stories about his childhood and the time way back when he and my Mother were still together living in Darwin. He had some fantastic stories. Stories I would have never got to hear if I didn't go to Perth. I got to know and love and respect my incredible Irish Step-Mum, who was so, so devoted to Dad right down to the end. How she held herself together I will never know. Being with Dad and seeing him suffer with the cancer was hard. But hardest was the look of frustration and anger on his face when his body couldn't do something because of the stroke. I watched him learn to take a few steps using a stick. He learned how to chew meat again, I tried to activate his brain by doing puzzles and playing games. I showed him the Internet and Facebook, and he played Farmtown to occupy the boring, long days. Dad was always an active, outdoors type guy so being in a wheelchair and basically housebound was a struggle. Some days I would push him in his wheelchair down to the local tavern for a few coldies, where we would meet up with his incredible bunch of mates. These people would put on fundraisers to help my step-mum cope with the medical bills and food expenses, they donated goods for raffles and all the proceeds went to Dad and step-mum. I was overwhelmed at their kindness.
I have so, so many fond memories of Perth. I don't regret going. But I wish I didn't leave my daughters.
After three months in Perth and a mere twice-weekly phone call to my girls (who were at the age where they didn't like to talk on phones), I decided it was time for me to go home. Saying goodbye, I had no words to express my gratitude to my step-mum for all of the amazing sacrifices she made for my Dad. I loved her for all the things she did for him, and for all the reassurance and love she gave to me. When I said goodbye to Dad, it was heartbreaking. It had been 10 months since his 6-18 month life sentence was given to him, so I didn't know if it was the last time I would ever see him. I cried all the way back to New Zealand. All the way back to nothing.
My mum hadn't spoken to me once when I was in Perth. She was horrified that a mother could leave her kids. When I got back, I went to stay with the Wicked Witch, not knowing that she and Spike had forged a friendship which was pretty much based on me being an irresponsible and unfit mother. My Mum, knowing that evils were at work, offered me one of her empty rental houses to live in (far away from the WW) and so my new life began.
I was so excited at coming home knowing I would get to see my girls, feeling like a new person. Then I got served with papers. Spike decided I was so, so unfit that my contact with my own daughters had to be supervised. He was not giving me 50-50.
It broke me, thinking that people thought I was too unfit to look after my kids. After all, I had never physically abused or neglected them, they always had food and a bed and toys to play with and I never left them home alone. I read stories to them, sewed clothes for them and helped them build lego kingdoms. Spike and WW based my "instability" on problems with drugs and alcohol. (Clarification: prescription drugs not illegal ones. They were referring to the sleeping pills my Doctor had prescribed me) They thought it was "in the best interests of the girls" if my contact was supervised.
Even though I pretty much had a nervous breakdown at the thought of not being able to just go and pick up my kids for a weekend, I played their game (thanks to my mum for coaching me and listened to my screams of frustration), and was assessed by a mental health team at Spike and WW's request. Post-traumatic stress disorder with borderline characteristics. NOT the Bipolar they had been hoping for. Psychologists assured me that this "diagnosis" was a result of the major trauma I had been put through in the last year or so, and that it was not a "forever" thing like schizophrenia is. Basically, I was very depressed and had trouble coping with life. Judge away, but if you were in my shoes, wouldn't you too?
So I took anti-depressants. Went to AA meetings (again, Spike's request since him and WW had also diagnosed me with alcoholism... lol) and therapy. Felt better. Missed my kids, so fucking desperatley. Playing the game so every time the girls came over to my house, I had to be supervised by my mother. Which was so, so degrading. After 6 weeks she decided it was ridiculous and I was "able" to have the girls by myself. Then I got served again with papers saying that Spike and Freckles were going for full custody. NOT the 50-50 we had agreed on before I left.
At this point of the story, I kinda want to shorten the story because there was alot of legal to-and-fro, it was very very stressful and alot of hurtful things were said and done. But it adds to the point I have gotten to now, since it was such an incredibly lengthy battle.
So, I got back from Perth in November. Had my custody supervised until January. In March I met my partner T-Bone. It was nice to have company. We dated for about 8 months until he got cold feet about the relationship and we broke up. But such a wonderful time with him, and not once did he judge or question why I was a mother without her children.
I guess in alot of ways, the reason I am writing all of this for the big wide internet to get hold of is so that people can see the full story. They see me, and when they find out I dont have full custody of my kids I always wonder what they must think of me. "Well, she must have done something wrong", "but the mother always gets the kids", "I wonder what she did", and so on and so on... no people, I didnt abuse or neglect them. They weren't taken by CYFS, they weren't forced out of my hands because I was doing a crap job. YES I wanted them, YES I love them and YES I fucking well want them back. But getting them back has proven a whole lot harder than giving them up.

The twists continued...

2011-10-27T14:49:00.000-07:00

Continued from yesterday...
So after Spike left, I was alone. Really alone I mean. My mum who was pretty much my only family other than my 20 year old brother, decided she needed to explore the world and signed up to teach for a year in Singapore, and she had left at Christmas time just before I kicked Spike out.
I was surprised and devestated how all my glowing abilities to run a house and do fun things with the kids just went down the drain. I couldn't make it to Playcentre on time with them, I couldn't manage all the washing as well as doing everything else with the kids, I lost complete interest in doing any of the home learning we used to do like digging in the garden, playing with paints and playdough, making huts. I just wanted to crawl into my bed and forget that I wasn't good enough. The messages that Spike has sent me nonverbally had invaded my head and were making me crazy. The Doctor prescribed more Prozac and sleeping pills. Unfortunatly, I had found my own medication in the form of wine.
Now before I begin this part of the story, let me just add a disclaimer. I am not an alcoholic, was never an alcoholic and continue to enjoy booze to the same degree any old person might. It was just that at this time in my life, booze was a crutch.
So with my Mum miles away, and my husband and his family both telling me I was doing a shocking job with the kids, surrounded by piles of unfolded washing and two kids who needed me, I proceeded down a dark road into the woods of depression. It didnt help that CYFS turned up on my doorstep thanks to a phone call from my ex-mother in law, who had read a book about Bipolar and decided I was it. The in-laws and Spike all protested that I had chronic mood swings and was unstable, also that my children were running around dirty and uncared for! During those first few months of being a single mother I continually questioned my decision to kick Spike out. I questioned my parenting ability, and what kind of damage a divorce would have on my girls (I am a child of divorced parents, and YES I was damaged from it). I (much to everyone's disgust, including my own) even questioned my love for my girls. Yes I loved them, but they were wearing me down. We were getting through life minute to minute. I kept thinking "There must be more to life than this?"
It was around this disasterous time that the Wicked Witch and her sidekick moved into the flat in front of my house. The Wicked Witch (or WW) was an old school friend, who nobody had ever liked at school and who I hadn't seen in many years. She, and her mother, were over-bearing control freak types, sore losers, and the types of people who judged others. However, when she moved in, she offered me alot of help during my newly-single adjustment period, like coming over to watch the kids so I could make dinner. It was nice to have company, and I thought she was a friend that I could confide my feelings in. Turns out that wasn't the case, but i'll get into that shortly.
While I was married, my life was a fairy tale. It was just what I had always wanted. A stable, loving home for my daughters. I had wanted to be a mother and a wife. Here it was, my dream. So when i became single, I had to re-learn who I was once I was no longer in that fairytale. It took years! But my illusions of happily ever after were broken. Surely there was more to life than this? My dream was to have a family and a husband, not be a single mother. I didn't see an end in sight and it consumed me.
The bombshell hit later in my first year of single parenthood. My dad rang me from Perth, Australia to tell me he had lung cancer. It was real. It was terminal. He had 6-18 months. I couldn't get out of my bed from shock, I couldn't sleep, all I did was cry and regret the troublesome and infrequent relationship I had had with my Dad over my teenage years. Add that stress to the other stress and you get... well, a mess.
Drinking got worse, thoughts of suicide appeared since I could not cope with life. My heart was breaking that I could not give my kids everything they deserved. And I had no idea who I was. I had no purpose.
Then we found God. Or, God found me. The thought of church had been fleeting in and out of my mind for a few months. And thats a big deal for me, a self-confessed atheist, Marilyn Manson follower even! One Sunday I tried to organise the kids to go to a local church anch check it out. Didn't happen. The next weekend, Spike had the kids and I picked them up at 3.30 on Sunday afternoon. As we were driving home, I saw a sign that said "Church on the Shore @ 4." Looked at the clock and it was almost four. So we went. And were welcomed by the most amazing, loving and non-judgemental bunch of people I have ever met. They became our new family. The next 6 months was a blur of Bible readings, church events and dinners at church members houses. It was fantastic- I had a family. I learnt so many important things: I was over the moon to find out that I didn't have to worry about what other people thought of me, because the only one that mattered was God! This kind of thinking astounded and confused me, it was so different than anything I had thought before.
But God didnt cure my depression. Or my indulgence in booze. Or my feelings of worthlesness. The church told me they would fade with time. And God did not cure my Dad.
Dad had been having treatment for his cancer, and then his body told him to go fuck himself and went and had a stroke. He was lying on the kitchen floor for hours before someone found him, so the effects of the stroke were debilitating. I arranged for people to look after the kids for a few weeks and I rushed to his side. He was left without the use of the right side of his body, he couldn't walk or use his arm, he couldn't speak properly and his brain function was diminished. It hit me that he was dying... He was fighting the Cancer, but the Stroke had stolen his quality of life. I had wasted so many years not talking to him out of anger, and just as we were starting to build our relationship, he was going to go and die on me. When I left Perth, Dad was facing a stint in a Rehab hospital; the doctors said he couldn't go home unless he had a full time carer with him at all times. Since my step-mum was now the sole provider for them, she couldn't leave her job.
This churned in my stomach for a long time. Every time I rang Dad at the Rehab hospital he sounded miserable. Said he hated it there and he wanted to die. I don't know how it came about, but I decided to go to Perth with the girls so I could take care of him and his only grandchildren could spend time with him and get to know him. Spike opposed this and served me with a non-removal order so the girls couldn't leave the country. I was so, so torn. Was I just to let Dad rot away in a rehab hospital for the rest of his days and never see him again? What about all the things I had left to say to him? But how could I leave my girls? How could ANY MOTHER leave her children?
How does one choose?

Yes, the road has been very twisted....

2011-10-26T14:21:00.000-07:00

I am attempting to write a bit about the history of how I got here. To today. Today was a milestone... doesnt sound like much to many, and plenty of people would say "ugh, you're excited about that?" Damn straight I am!
This morning, I woke my kids up, fed them brekky, got them dressed and did their hair, and I took them to school. For the first time.
See, my kids are everything to me. But they are everything to someone else as well. Their father (I have many, many names for him but we shall call him Spike for this) feels the same as I do; they are everything to him. And thank god we can finally hear about a Dad who gives a damn. But there has been a battle between us for years... Currently and unfortunatley, he hold the power. Yes, I will get to why in a minute (make that many minutes). But let's start at the beginning.
We were together at age 18, living it up and partying in Christchurch. We moved in together pretty early on (maybe after 3 months, if that) and had plans to get married and have babies in the future. At 19 I was pregnant; not a terrible surprise. I had wanted and prayed for a baby since my first pregnancy (which didn't result in a live baby obviously) and was so fucking over the moon to be pregnant. Spike and I and my belly moved back to Auckland as our parents lived there, and #1, Spice, was born in March 05. I was so overjoyed with having a baby at first, but this baby screamed all the time. I mean, she screamed. All the time. She had reflux, which meant giving up breastfeeding and giving her a bottle of thickened formula. First blow to my motherhood. But I sucked it up most of the time. I went to a young mum's group at Plunket where I made lots of new friend's who had babies, and I always managed to feel rather superior, as I had a dedicated finace, a beautiful baby etc etc. I thrived on perfection.
Spike and Spice and I lived happily ever after. For about two years. We were the "perfect" couple. All our friends were always saying how perfect we were and how envious they were of our relationship. I was an amazing housewife. Cooked, cleaned (my friend and old neighbour L will attest to this, she thought I was OCD) and looked after the baby, however challenging she was. I even got a job so we could save for our wedding, so I was pulling 40 hour weeks as well as taking care of the house. But baby Spice was so.... stubborn, hard headed, and a downright Daddys girl.
Spike and I married when we were both 21 (so, so stupid), and little Spice walked down the isle holding my sisters hand. For my wedding present from my husband, Spike agreed to start trying for another baby. WELL nek minnit... 6 weeks later I was preggers. I left my job at 4 months as I was suffering from hyperemisis. Being home with now 2 year old Spice was great to start off with! We started going to Playcentre, which we both loved. She could do her messy play and I wouldn't have to deal with the aftermath!
Baby Sugar came along when C was 2 1/2, and I was amazed by this perfect, beautiful baby girl. I mean, she was perfect. I couldn't stop looking at her, I couldnt put her down because I was terrified she would grow. Like her sister. We continued at Playcentre, and moved house. At this point, I was proud of my perfect housewife skills. I was juggling a breastfed baby and a very, very active tanturm-throwing toddler. But still, my hubby came home to a reasonably tidy house and a hot dinner. And yes, I was performing my "wifely duties" three times a week roughly.
Probably when baby Sugar was 3 or 4 months I noticed Spike was behaving odd... when he went on the laptop in our bedroom he would shut the door. He was getting random texts which he would answer in the other room out of my eyesight. Saying he was going out after work. My woman radar burned... and I am NOT STUPID. But seems he was as he didnt delete the history on the computer. And I knew the password to his email account. So I investigated... and that is when the world around me started crumbling. Bit by bit until it all fell down. He was online chatting to other women, arranging to meet up for sex. He was sending and receiving x-rated pictures, having erotic chats with others. It churned in my stomach for days about what to do. I didn't want to break up our family. But there was no way in hell I would allow him to cheat. And yes, internet contact in that manner is cheating. I never got proof that he met up with other women. But I had a gut feeling and usually its right. So, I printed off what I had and confronted him. Told him to get out of our house. That he made me sick. But in my head the age-old question repeated itself on loudspeaker.. "Why wasn't I good enough?" What hadn't I done? In my mind, I had done everything a partner should do. He said we didnt have enough sex. But... we had a baby and a toddler and um, we had sex three times a week. But he said it wasn't enough. So the blame was put on me. He was one of those clingy types. Before I had found all this vile information I was trying to start a cloth nappy business. I made the nappies myself and had started pulling in a few orders from word of mouth. So in effect I was also working from home as well as looking after the kids. Spike complained that when I wasn't with the kids, I was sewing nappies. He was like a little dog humping my leg for attention all the time.
Anyways, he was out for a few weeks and we went to marriage counselling. It was hard to work through the issue of trust, but most importantly what I couldn't get over was the sword-wound in my soul. Why wasn't I enough for you? With that question still burning away, I let him move back in and we had a "happy" family Christmas. My family hated Spike at this stage. None of them ever particularly liked him, but now, they hated him for what he had done to me. I started getting depressed. Went on Prozac, felt like a failure, started to spend less time playing with the kids and more time thinking about my self worth. The self-worth that he had injured irreversibly.
After Christmas, I had that funny feeling again. We had friends round who we hung out with as a couple, the guy L was an old workmate of Spikes, and usually they would go out together. Spike said he had to go out to this friends house, who L knew as well, but that the friend said L couldnt go, it was just a few people. The rang alarm bells and I jumped straight on the computer after he left. Yes, more messages. Yes, more photos. And emails from girls wanting to meet up for "casual fun". In one email a woman said that she felt so sorry for him having such a bitch nag of a wife. He had agreed with her.
In that moment, with my friends in the lounge watching the kids, I broke. No more, no more. He had promised that he would never do it again. Would those promises just keep getting broken? Spike had to go. I played it cool for a few days, and then one day when he came back from work he was greeted by my brother, who took the kids out so I could talk to Spike. (I had to convince my brother to not punch him in the face, which was VERY hard!) I showed him all the emails I had printed off. His things were sitting in rubbish bags. I told him he had broken my heart, my trust and worst of all, my self-esteem. And then I told him to get the fuck out.
I'm sure he thought I would take him back. He sure tried hard enough. said he was going to counselling, begged me to take him back, that he wanted to have another baby, that he wanted to work on things. I just could not tell what was truth and what was lies. I'm sure everything he said was true at the time he said it. But would those things become more promises he would eventually break? So, he left for good. With hatred in his heart, i'm sure.

Wow, enough of part one for now! more to come...

Dorothy and Toto

2011-10-11T20:10:00.000-07:00

Okay, so imagine I am Dorothy. If you have seen the classic Wizard of Oz, you will know that Toto is her beloved dog, and an evil neighbour wants Dorothy to get rid of the dog so she takes it away on her bike... Dorothy finds Toto and they run away together which is when the tornado comes and, well you know the rest. Toto is always beside Dorothy, her bestie.
I have lots of Toto's, not so much lots of friends, but a handful of people around me who are always at my side. My Mum, who is my #1 supporter MOST of the time, however critical she can be at times she is always doing things for me and helping me out. I wish I could do more for her, but I guess her kindness will pay off when its time to pick a nursing home... hehehe. My partner is another Toto, I dont know what i'd do without him. We make eachother laugh. A lot. He knows things haven't been perfect for me in the past but he isn't so hung up on that as others have been. He sees me as I am now, not as I was years ago. The most important thing is that he is loyal and he sticks by me. My daughters are also my Toto's, even though they kind of have to be lol. What I really mean is that they are under my feet an awful lot of the time (actually at this very moment they are playing dogs under my desk).
My point is that there are lots of different kinds of friends. Some are loyal, some are not. Some will be around for ages, some will move on with the next gust of wind. Some have ulterior motives, some are true. There are backstabbers, users, and plenty of people who stick their noses in your business and have strong opinions on your life. People who are really just out to get you and your little dog too.... In the past, these people have been able to really worm their way into my thoughts and self-worth, I would wonder what on earth was so wrong with me that people hated me enough to start those rumours/say those things/be that nasty... but with experience (why does it happen more and more these days?) and age (ugh) I am at a point where I just shrug it off and realise I can't do anything to change people like that.
And when I think of people like that (yes, there is one in particular who I shall call the Wicked Witch) I realise how good i've got it with the people who are always around me and always by my side. Me and my little dog.

Welcome....

2011-10-10T13:28:00.000-07:00

I think the "Yellow Brick Road" sums it up. We all have that magical place we want to get to, our very own "Emerald City", but the road we travel on the way there is actually what means the most. The road we travel shapes who we are when we get to the Emerald City, our adventures and the people we meet along the way all shape the people we evolve to be.
I'm not 100% sure what my Emerald City looks like... I know there will be my family, my kids and my partner, hopefully a good paying job that i love doing, a home we own ourselves and a bunch of laughter. But i'm not one of those people who have the fixed dream of what a good life SHOULD look like... I did, once upon a time in my first marriage, but that illusion got shattered pretty fast and I learnt that life is never going to be how you want it to be. The Yellow Brick Road twists and turns unexpectedly, you meet wonderful people who will become your companions on your road, you learn about the things that are important to you, and of course there's the Wicked Witch always lurking around the corner, hoping to God she can ruin your plans.
At this point in time, i'm travelling my road alongside my two young daughters who are Sugar, 4 and Spice who is 6, my partner T-Bone, and my mother, brother, flatmate Potato and many other people. Each of these people brings something wonderful to my life. I'm studying by distance learning, and almost finnished a Diploma of Rehabilitation Studies (thank god its almost over) and for some reason am looking forward to cursing myself with a further three years of study from March 2012 onwards doing the Nursing Degree (finally) that I have always wanted to do. Currently I'm working in Mental Health as a support worker, and thoroughly love it.
I do often daydream about the Emerald City; like, how do you know if you are there yet? What if you get there and it isnt what you expected? But I dont think its the destination that matters so much, but the journey and the paths you take.