Tearing at the Fabric

Of the space-time continuum


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Retro radio moments. Vol. 1.

Since I no longer have kids in my car constantly, I changed radio stations some months ago. Yep. Old school. Actual. Radio. No iPod/iPhone on my bluetooth connection. The station I listen to is an alternative rock station, and they do play a fair bit of old stuff along with great new sounds. Anyway, this oldie is a fave, always loved it, and turned it up loud the other day. Yes, I am THAT crazy, middle aged woman you see driving around with the radio blasting, singing enthusiastically and bopping around at the wheel.  I remember Rog playing it for me in the early days of this after affair crap. He has apologised, several times (is there ever “enough” times?) but not too many tears. He left that part to me.

He still wishes I could change my mind.

“Boys Don’t Cry”

I would say I’m sorry
If I thought that it would change your mind
But I know that this time
I’ve said too much
Been too unkindI try to laugh about it
Cover it all up with lies
I try and
Laugh about it
Hiding the tears in my eyes
’cause boys don’t cry
Boys don’t cryI would break down at your feet
And beg forgiveness
Plead with you
But I know that
It’s too late
And now there’s nothing I can doSo I try to laugh about it
Cover it all up with lies
I try to
laugh about it
Hiding the tears in my eyes
’cause boys don’t cry

I would tell you
That I loved you
If I thought that you would stay
But I know that it’s no use
That you’ve already
Gone away

Misjudged your limits
Pushed you too far
Took you for granted
I thought that you needed me more

Now I would do most anything
To get you back by my side
But I just
Keep on laughing
Hiding the tears in my eyes
’cause boys don’t cry
Boys don’t cry
Boys don’t cry

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Kids. The glue that has kept my life together.

Yesterday I got a card from my youngest daughter. She is 16, sometimes a bit bratty and spoiled, but generally an independent thinker and I think she will be “okay.” Last week was a bit of a watershed for both of us. My baby got her Restricted driver’s licence. Independence. The last one I “have to” taxi around. When you live half an hour from town, an hour from the closest city, where they play a lot of sport, where the cinemas are, a licence is freedom – for both child and parent! I felt freed from the chains of super-organisation; who will pick up so-and-so from hockey/music/practice/school/dance/art lessons/swimming/insert activity here? The day after that, her braces were removed. All three drive and all three have finished the main part of their orthodontistry. I am through the major, hands-on parts of twenty-three years of parenthood. My friends are asking me if I feel sad, or if I am starting to worry about empty nest syndrome.

Very prematurely, I might add. She goes to study in France in early September for six months, then back for one more year of school!

emptynest3

Nyah-uh!

Not this Mum.

For while I love my children fiercely, I was never a “natural.” I was never clucky, nor particularly maternally oriented. I put that down to a few things, but clearly, at 24 (when I discovered the first shock pregnancy) I was very, very young to be heading off down that path. I was the only one I knew with a child – then children – for many, many years. Most of my contemporaries are at the pre-teen, or early teen stage with their eldest, many have just preschoolers. Very sensible! The way I would have done it, had I been able to plan it!  All that said, I have been a pretty kick-arse mother. I was chair of the kindy committee, chair of the PTA, chair of various sports and activities committees, secretary of others, I did my time! I coached teams, managed teams, drove them to far too many activities, cheered on the sideline, took literacy support classes and then ran the parent arm of the reading recovery group for kids at my kids’ school who were falling behind, both by organising the fundraising, and then the roster of trained parent helpers, encouraged them to say “yes” more than they say no to every new opportunity and option. I always try to make time in my busy schedule to listen. The youngest always gets me to proof-read every assignment she hands in, and make any suggestions for changes – the other two were far more independent and did it themselves.

So, when my baby chick wrote these words yesterday, I realised she knows, she understands how this battle has played out for me, far more than I thought, after all – she was asking when my university graduation ceremony (capping) was going to be, she was worried she would be overseas, as she will be when I complete my undergraduate degree (I didn’t even know she cared!)

“I’m so insanely proud of what you have achieved over the past couple of years. Thank you for your unconditional love and support for me over the years, I do appreciate it, although it may not always show at times. I’m incredibly lucky to have a mother as intelligent and trusting as you.”

I don’t think I write these words to brag about my status as mother of the century. I make mistakes, sometimes big ones. Last week, I was fraught and she wound me up about something (bratty) and I lost it and yelled pretty loudly at her, the red-faced kind of fury-letting that I used to be pretty good at as a child! Later, of course I apologised, it is a rare thing for me to lose it with them these days. She was forgiving, and owned what she did to light my fuse. I write these words here to say, hey, I grew some nice people. Go me. But more than that, go them. They have literally saved my life.


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Where is my mind?

A damn good question, Black Francis!

I am both coping better and more questioning than I have been for a long time with this shit. I am asking myself a lot of questions about my mind, and how I can get better control of it.. A way of controlling my own thoughts in order to gain a better future for myself. I spent a LOOOOONG time trying to get a grip on this stuff in counselling for years, until I just got so damn sick of carrying the load.

Maybe I am ready to start asking some more questions of my psyche.

“Where is My Mind”

Oh – stop

With your feet on the air and your head on the ground
Try this trick and spin it, yeah
Your head will collapse
But there’s nothing in it
And you’ll ask yourself

Where is my mind? [3x]

Way out in the water
See it swimmin’

I was swimmin’ in the Caribbean
Animals were hiding behind the rocks
Except the little fish
But they told me, he swears
Tryin’ to talk to me, to me, to me.

Where is my mind? [3x]

Way out in the water
See it swimmin’

With your feet on the air and your head on the ground
Try this trick and spin it, yeah
Your head will collapse
If there’s nothing in it
And you’ll ask yourself

Where is my mind? [3x]

Way out in the water
See it swimmin’

Oh
With your feet on the air and your head on the ground
Oh
Try this trick and spin it, yeah
Oh
Oh