Boys and bras

I want to tell you about a rather...ahem....delicate interest of our young Carter.  He is very interested in...my bra.  If he catches a glimpse of one lying around, it will inevitably disappear and be relocated - courtesy of Carter. 

It's not a fascination with what's contained INSIDE said bra (and in my case it's not much anyway), it's the actual bra itself. 

I have asked him about his interest in bras and with a shrug of his shoulders he states matter of factly;

"I just love them!"

When we are out, he publicly asks me what colour my bra is.  

He will also publicly ask to see my bra (I don't know why he bothers - the answer is ALWAYS no).

When he busts into our room while I am getting changed and I shoo him away, he often reminds me;

"Don't forget your bra Mum!"

Granted, the last example does serve a purpose as there are occasions where I do forget, but I think Carter isn't aiming to remind me - it's more a reflection of his fascination.  

Right as I type this, I have called Carter in and asked him why he likes bras so much - purely to gain insight into his crazy little mind.  His answer;

"Cos they're my favourite in the whole world."

Good heavens!  Are we in for a world of trouble or what!!!

Secrets and lies.....well, without the lies

I have been keeping a secret.  For a few years now.  It felt easier to just keep it quiet so I don't have to deal with it, and for the most part I HAVE kept it quiet.  But my secret reveals itself from time to time and what began as a secret that only Anthony knew about has expanded to a few more people, and as of late even more.  

I don't like to talk about it or tell people because I am sick of dealing with things like this.  I want to get on with life and already my back makes that difficult.  I want to be as 'normal' as possible and not have extra things to worry about.  I don't want my health to define me more than it already does.

But for a while now, I have been having seizures.  I didn't know they were seizures at first because they aren't the convulsion type (grand mal seizures).  At first, I actually thought I might be going crazy and having panic attacks, even though I wasn't feeling panicked at the time.  

It starts with a weirdly intense de javu feeling followed by an overwhelming sense of dread in the pit if my stomach.  For a few minutes after this, I feel like I'm trapped in my own head terrified.  I can't tell you what is going on around me during this time.  I'm conscious, but in my own world and kind of shut down.  It feels like I'm slipping away and it's scary.  Then as I come out of it, I'm very sweaty and often have a throbbing headache and nausea for a while after.  It makes my muscles and entire body so tired I feel like I could sleep for days.

The de javu is usually my warning so I can sit down or stop what I am doing.  I felt that as long as I had this warning, it was fairly safe.  

A few months ago, I was preparing a lesson.  I had one of my seizures and couldn't remember any of the lesson I had prepared.  Aside from being annoying, it wasn't too big of a deal.  But then a couple of weeks after that, I came to at about 10:30am on a Sunday morning very confused.  I had no idea what day or month it was.  I had no memory of that morning or the entire day before.  Anthony said I had a seizure in the shower but took longer to come around so he walked me to our bed.  I now remember most of the day prior, but still none of the morning before coming to at 10:30am - it is still as if those 4 hours never happened, like I went to bed the night before and woke at 10:30am the next morning.

For a long time Anthony has been telling me I need to see a doctor about it, but I can be very stubborn and didn't want to.  I promised him that if it progressed at all, I would make an appointment though.  I know it probably wasn't very fair to not let him tell anyone something that was worrying him, but I wasn't ready to deal with it yet.

I know I have buried my head in the sand long enough and need to be sensible so I saw my GP and had to get an EEG and MRI done.  This week I saw a Neurologist who suspects Temporal Lobe Epilepsy, but isn't 100% certain yet without specific tests related to the Temporal Lobe.  He said it's progressed to a point I am having a high number of seizures now so it needs to be addressed.  Nothing too dramatic hopefully, just extra doctors to see and medications to take I imagine.

So there you have it - no more secrets.  I know I hold my cards close to my chest, but my blog is where I say things how I really feel, perhaps things I wouldn't tell people in a casual conversation that we have when I see you. This is my journal though, my only journal, so it's all here.

Social Hibernation

I have been MIA lately it would seem.  Actually, I think I would better describe it as some sort of social hibernation.  I'm not certain this term explains it well, but I know its something I do from time to time - I just sort of 'check out' of certain aspects my life for a little bit.

I sometimes feel guilty that during this time I'm probably not the greatest friend to have as you wont see much of me, but at the same time I'm not sorry for my decision as it is necessary for me.  One of the main reasons I am temporarily absent from the life of my friends at times, is I am trying to take care of myself so I can be the wife and mother I want and need to be.  It has taken me years to get to the point where I understand that for me, this means that sometimes I really need to quieten my life down so I have opportunities for adequate rest and to be able to spend real quality time with my family that I desire so much.  They are my people and they deserve the best of me; not the cranky, short-tempered me that appears when I stretch myself too thin and end up exhausted and in more pain than I know how to handle.  

Part of the joy that comes with age is greater self awareness and assurance.  I am better aware of what I am capable of and know that sometimes, its not much.  I fight against it, but I'm slowly realizing that for me, much of my happiness comes from not feeling overwhelmed and over-scheduled.  I know many people who handle a busy schedule really well, and others who even enjoy being super busy, but I am not one of those people.  I LOVE seeing a day without any doctors appointments or therapies.  I relish knowing I will have dinner finished before the boys all finish school and work so we can spend time together without me shooing people out from under my feet in the kitchen.  I love being able to climb into bed at 8:30pm at night and not be so sore that it will take me hours to get to sleep.

I am incredibly boring in this way, but keeping my life simple brings me immense joy.

I'm not always socially present simply because my body doesn't always let me and sometimes the choice is between being a good friend or a good mother - and for me, that decision makes itself very easily.  This doesn't reflect the love I have for my friends, rather how I can't be "me" without being "Mum" to my boys - they are so intertwined I can't be one without the other.

So to all of you out in the online world who have seen little of me lately, please know you still have my heart, you have not been replaced, I'm not seeing other friends, and it's totally not you - it's me.  I have a dud body that demands my attention, two little men who are my highest priorities, and a best friend/husband who I never get sick of being around, but I am still here.

A big old 21st to remember

My youngest sister turned 21 today.  That's a rather big milestone in life.  For most it means a big drunken party, but for Rachael it will be celebrated differently.  She is currently 2 weeks from finishing serving an 18 month mission for our church.  

Whilst thinking of her throughout the day, it made me reflect on my own 21st birthday.  Mine too was rather different from a traditional 21st party.

I got pregnant at 20. I wasn't drunk when it happened, seeing as I had never had as much as a sip of alcohol. It wasn't a one-night-stand gone wrong.  I was a Uni student with virtually no money to my name, but it was completely intentional. 

I had gotten married less than two months earlier to my sweetheart, Anthony, and after that long five weeks, we decided we were sick of the joy and spontaneity that comes with being newlyweds - we needed a baby. Everyone knows nothing brings a couple closer than sleep deprivation, crying, and vomit. 

And that was just my pregnancy.

Being young and stupid, we couldn't contain our excitement when that second line appeared on the pregnancy test and we called our families straight away. I know the 'done' thing is to wait until after the twelve week mark when the risk of miscarriage is greatly lessened, but we didn't really consider that as something that would happen to us (see - stupid) so we announced it immediately. I gloated that I had no morning sickness and felt great. 

Then at the six week mark, what was  up until then a beautiful, developing baby inside my belly, turned into an alien trying to destroy me via my up-chuck reflex. I was vomiting multiple times a day and just wanted to sleep constantly.   

I could only stand the smell of mandarins, oranges, and carrots.  I vividly recall going to do a weekly grocery shop and walking past the Deli aisle in the supermarket holding an orange up to my nose so I wouldn't vomit.  I left the shop with what was supposed to be seven days worth of food - six kilos of oranges, two kilos of mandarins, two kilos of carrots, lemonade, and juice ice blocks.

Society frowns upon men who leave their pregnant wives within three months of marriage so it was shortly after this point we made an important purchase - an X-Box.  Seeing as I was going to bed at 7pm each night it seemed only fair Anthony had some company. 

Whilst pregnant, I celebrated a milestone; I turned twenty-one. Like most twenty-one year olds, I too celebrated my coming into adulthood with my head in a toilet bowl. It wasn't senseless amount of alcohol that inflicted my vomiting though - it was my first born child. 

Anthony was fairly useless when it came to morning sickness and I would find myself yelling for him to;

"Go away! You aren't helping me if you vomit in my hair while you are supposed to be holding it back!"

I praise him for his efforts, but he has a ridiculously weak stomach when it comes to the sound and smell of vomit.  Probably not a good sign when you are months from expecting a baby and cleaning all manor of bodily fluids become a part of everyday life. 

It was around this point in time that it hit me how different my life was from many of my peers.  I was still a full-time Uni student, I still worked part time in a supermarket, but I was a wife and mother. My child was yet to take it's first real breath, but I was a mother nonetheless. These were the things I had hoped for when people asked me the big question;

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

My answer was always;

"I think I want to be a teacher, but most of all I want to be a wife and a mother."

So here I was - just turned twenty-one and what I had hoped for had already fallen in my lap.  I guess there isn't a better 21st present than that right :)

More than happiness

I have had a few different opportunities over the last couple of days to think about what the future holds for my boys.  I have read articles and posts about the state of the world, and about raising children.  In conversations with other mothers who have children with additional needs, I often express how even though there may be lots of uncertainly in what the future holds, all I truly want is my boys to be happy.  I think I have even written that in a past blog post just a few months ago.

I have changed my tune though.  

So, to my maniac boys....

My dear Tony and Carter,

In case I am struck by lightning suddenly or fall into a man hole and am never seen again, I want to put some words to you on paper (virtual paper - obviously). 

I know I have told you often that we parent the way we do because we just want you to be happy.  You don't always like our decisions, but we make them believing they will truly bring you joy in the long run.  I tell you all I want at the end of the day is you to be happy.

I would like to change this.  

Above all else, I want you to be kind boys.  And ultimately kind men. 

I know that around you people are praised for being good leaders, for obtaining great wealth, for reaching prestige and fame, for being amazingly intelligent, and the list goes on. 

These aren't bad things.  They aren't even bad things to strive for.  Good leaders do a great deal of good.  They can set a fine example for others to follow.   

Great wealth sometimes only comes after hard work.  Money is not an evil thing.  In fact having additional means can allow you to bless the lives of others through looking for opportunities to help those in need.  There have been times in my life where people have given some of their means to us at particular times and I will never forget the love I felt for these people for their selflessness.

 Prestige and fame may come for negative reasons, but they can also come for positive reasons.

  Intelligence is a wonderful thing, particularly when we measure it as more than how well one performs on an exam. There are many ways to be intelligent and I hope you desire to learn as much as you can in as many areas as you can.

I don't want to imply that I would be unhappy if these things came to you in your lives. 

Make no mistake though, if these things are not part of your future, I will still be ridiculously proud of you if I see you to have become kind men. 

Look for opportunities to show kindness to those around you.  I know that kindness is already a part of you, but please don't allow that soft, gentle side to be replaced by a thick skin that seeks to "look after number one".  Putting what you want above others all the time will not bring you great joy. It won't create lasting memories.  It won't help you build satisfying relationships.  Think of others.  Build them up.  If you have a kind thought about someone - tell them.  If it's not kind - consider holding your tongue until you can express it in a better way. 

If you see someone who is alone or on the outter, include them.  It's a horrible feeling being left out-whether intentional or not.  Perhaps one of the kindest thing a young person can do for another is to help them feel like they belong.  There will always be enough room for a new friend if you make it.

I have heard the term "too kind" being used for people who may get taken advantage of.  I don't think you can actually be TOO kind.  So as well as being kind to others, I want you to be kind to yourselves.  You deserve good things that come when you work for them.  You should have fun and laughter with those you love.  You will sometimes have to put your needs first to be able to support yourself and your loved ones.  This is not selfish.  This is knowing that sometimes you need to take care of yourself to again be in a position to give to others.  

Be a kind husband.   Look to your Dad and Grandfathers.  There is no doubt they love their wives.  They lift them up.  They tell them they are beautiful.  They show gratitude to them.  Not a day has gone past in a decade of marriage that your Dad hasn't thanked me for making his lunch or dinner for him.  It may seem small, but knowing I am appreciated has made it a pleasure to do these tasks daily for him.  A frequent kind word of gratitude and appreciation has turned what could be a chore into a pleasure.  Learn the power of kind words in your marriages. 

Ultimately, I do want you to be happy.  It's only natural for mothers to want their children to find happiness.  However, above all else I want you to be kind because I truly believe that if you are kind, you will likely be happy.  Not fleeting happiness, but the kind of contentment where you know you are living a life that you can feel good about and one that helps others feel good too. 

The world has enough who are wealthy, famous, or powerful.  It will never have enough who are kind.  

Weird things I have eaten

About two weeks ago, I reached a milestone in my life. I ate my first snail.  It will likely also be my last.  I'm not even slightly adventurous with my eating habits so before eating said snail, I had already decided that mollusks aren't my kind of delicacy. 

A kind friend of mine took me to a French restuarant for a post-birthday celebration.   She bravely ordered snails as an entree. Once they arrived, I watches her try one with admiration.  She then turned of me and said that now that I am 30, I need to be able to say I have tried a snail.  Without a moments hesitation I shook my head, but there was still a snail on a fork in front of my face. 

My friend tried to convince me by saying;

"Just try it!  Just don't look at it.  Close your eyes if you have to. Open your mouth and look away, whatever you do, do not look at it!"

Anything that you have to close your eyes to eat doesn't sound like my kind of food.  But sometimes those big moments in life present themselves and we reach a fork in the road. We can travel down the path that feels safe and familiar but leaves little room for growth, or we can go down .........argh, what am I talking about - I ATE A SNAIL!!!

It wasn't particularly awful, just kind of what I would expect a snail to taste like. Less slimy though.  I didn't hate it, but I won't be eating many more in the future, mainly because snails seem kind of cute to me.  I always feel so awful when I accidentally step on one. 

This experience led me to make an unusual list in the 'Notes' app on my phone.  I have added items here and there as they come to my memory.  The list is;

"Weird Stuff I Have Eaten."

I shall now share my list with you (and delete it from my 'Notes' as it is a bit of an odd thing to do).

Weird Stuff I Have Eaten

1. A snail.  Let's call this my 'Birthday Snail'.

2.  Baby vomit.  I was playing with one of our boys when they were young and was lying on our bed 'flying' them over my head and as I was talking and laughing, vomit straight into my mouth.  It was a direct hit and resulted in my own vomiting.

3. Raw egg.   I tend to drink from cups that aren't mine.  If I'm thirsty and I see a glass, even a half full glass, I will drink it.  When I was younger, I saw what I thought was orange juice, only to find it was raw egg.

4.  Clay juice.  You would think I would have learned my lesson from the raw egg experience, but I did not.  As kids, we would sometimes go to the Speedway with our Dad.  My younger siblings would collect the chunks of clay that would fly over the guard rails as the cars sped around the corners and would roll them into balls.  For some bizarre reason, one of these clay balls ended up in a cup of water in the fridge.  Which I once again drank.

5.  Bark.  I cannot tell you how many times I have picked up what I thought was a bit of dropped chocolate off the floor and realised I was eating bark....or dirt....or who knows what else.  Why am I eating food off the floor??

6.  Sand.  This one has always appealed to me, but it turned into a real craving both times I was pregnant. I just wanted to eat sand.  I don't think it was the taste, more the texture.  I even filled a bottle with sand when we went to the beach, you know - just in case.

7.  A cockroach.  When I was a teenager, I awoke one night because I felt something in my mouth.  I freaked out and spat out whatever was in there and turned in the light to discover a large, disgusting, cockroach.  I'm pretty good with spiders and bugs, but cockroaches still gross me out. 

8.  A chunk of my big toe.  I had a friend sleeping over when I was in Year 3 and I covered the bathroom floor with water and soap to 'ice skate'.  I somehow managed to slice a chunk off the side of my big toe on the edge of the shower.  I know it was deep because it didn't bleed straight away, it just went all white, then the blood came.  It also barely hurt in the beginning.  

I thought it would be funny to gross out my friend by putting the chunk of toe on my tongue and chasing her.  She was indeed disgusted, but in my laughter, I accidentally swallowed it.

And this concludes my list.  For now anyway, there will no doubt be updates if I continue my reckless eating habits. 

Man hunting

After Anthony and I went on our first date - there was obviously a second. The fact that I am writing this story for all to read tells you it must have a happy ending.  I certainly wouldn't be telling this story if after our first date I heard wedding bells, but Anthony was repulsed by me. I am far too proud. Plus I'm so irresistible that of course there was a second date. 

Those early days are a bit of a blur but I can tell you they consisted of Anthony and I not leaving each other's side too often. So much so that there was in intervention of sorts held.

After my last blog post, it was brought to my attention that one evening whilst Anthony was at my house (of course), some of his siblings arranged a meeting to ask his parents to tell him he had hardly been home long after 2 years away and that he was spending very little time with them.  

Now, I must be less valued amongst my siblings as no one staged any meetings because they missed me. 

Clearly Anthony and I were together a lot from the get go.  I can't tell you exactly when, but after a couple of dates (and it may literally have been two - I can't remember aside from the fact it wasn't our first date), we went for a walk one evening. As I have mentioned in the past, I'm not very gutsy in making a move, but I also had no intention of waiting long to test out our chemistry in the...umm...lip vincinity, if you know what I mean. 

Whilst we were out walking around a nearby park where some sporting teams were training, Anthony grabbed my hand. That same night we were talking whilst at a playground and I remember thinking;

"Hurry up and kiss me!"

Call me impatient if you will, but good kissing chemistry mattered to me. I'm sure good kissing COULD be a 'practice makes perfect' sort of thing and that an awkward first kiss isn't the end of the world - but I needed to know if he had the goods in the kissing department. Yes, yes, I'm fickle that way.

I won't go into too much detail...except to say I planned on kissing those lips a lot more.

Anthony and I got engaged 5 months after our first date - I would have said 'yes' earlier.  I know by some peoples standards that is considered fast. Perhaps for some even too fast to know enough about someone to commit to a life together. But I said 'yes' anyway. 

If I am being honest, I would agree in some ways - perhaps you can't know enough about a person in 5 months to know whether or not there is a happily ever after in your future. Marriage is a risk - I have seen enough marriages end to know this much.  Some of those couples were together for many years before getting hitched, others engaged after only a few weeks, but I knew enough to know that I felt very lucky to be the one Anthony proposed to and confident that we had what it took to make a life together.

I had seen his love for his family and wanted that same love for myself and my future children.  I knew he would put my best interests ahead of his own as he would already carry my handbag around for me without my ever asking and I didn't know many guys who would risk the mockery that comes with carrying your girlfriends handbag for her. I knew he loved his sport and yelled at the TV and clapped loud and fast during intense moments in a game, but I could live with that.  I knew we were both home bodies who loved being at home and that if we spent a lifetime on the couch watching movies eating cheeseburgers and ice cream together, we would be happy.  I knew our taste in music and tv shows differed a lot, but we had time to find new shows and new music we could like together - or if all else failed we owned ear phones.  

 I knew that above all, I was loved - in the kind of way that you feel is enough for a lifetime.