It's my lucky day.....apparently

I think I've mentioned that we've been looking for a new place.....and also that my sister and my nephew are moving in with us.

This is why finding a place for all of us to live has been so difficult. Now don't get me wrong.... I love my sister..... but somedays I would just love to stick her in the eye with a fork.

A little about my sister.....well it could well end up being alot......you know me...once you get me started......

My sister H is 4 years younger than I am. When it comes to personalities, we're like chalk and cheese. She's not very social, has a hard time making friends and doesn't have alot of self confidence.

She was just 11 (almost 12) when our mother got caught having an affair and our father kicked her out. It didn't take her long to figure out that she could manipulate both of our parents so she could get exactly what she wanted. Whenever things started getting tough living with Dad, she'd call Mum and would be living with her by that weekend. 6 months later, shit would go down with Mum and her new hubby and she'd be back living with us again. This was an endless cycle.

I was never invited to live at our mothers, not that I wanted to, her husband was an absolute dick, either way, the offer was never made.

Both of my parents were very lenient with her. If I came home from school with a B, I'd be read the riot act of how I should apply myself and that I could do better..... H would come home with D's and E's and it was the "you did your best" routine. They pandered to her every whim, trying to soften the emotional trauma of having her parents divorce at such a young age. Me being 15 at the time, they didn't think it effected me as emotionally as it did H. Where H manipulated, I rebelled. I sought attention by doing the wrong things, H sort it by playing the victim card.....again....and again.....

My Dad and I were such similar personalities, head strong and stubborn, that at 17, I couldn't handle being treated like a "child" anymore and moved out of home. At 19, we'd been evicted from our house, I swallowed my pride and asked my Dad if I could move in with him. He was between houses and was renting at the time. He said I could, providing I went halves in everything. Half the rent, half the food etc. I was pretty pissed that he wanted to treat me as a tenant and not as a daughter and give me a break on the whole rent thing. I managed to find a place, so I didn't move in. 2 weeks later, H finishes year 10 at school and moves in with Dad. She doesn't want to go on to years 11 & 12, Dad gives her the holidays (6 weeks) to find a job. Mum lines a job up for her at a take away, Dad charges her $50 a week board....ggrrrrr

3 years later, at 18, she's saved up heaps of money ( you would when you pay $50 a week board and don't go out like a normal teenager) she finally moves out. She spent about 18 months living out on her own before she's broke and back at Dad's ...... "only for a couple of months till I can get back on my feet again".

"A few months" dragged on to 4 years. During this time, I'd been living with TBO, paying my own way, never once asking for a hand out though having it constantly thrown in my face that I should "be more like your sister instead of throwing your money away". If I was only paying $50 a week for board I'm sure as shit I would have been a fucking millionaire. But no, stupid independent me liked paying more than 3 times that every week on rent and buying my own food.

At 24, she gets a job down in Sydney and leaves behind a phone bill to the tune of $1000, makes no effort to contact Dad, can't hold down a steady job and is constantly ringing Mum for money.

At 25, she comes home for Christmas, she has no job, no money and 8 weeks pregnant to some "casual" guy. I had been trying to get pregnant for 4 years by this stage, so it goes without saying that I was more than a little pissed off that she wanted to bring this little baby into the world when she had nothing ......the girl didn't even own a knife and fork.

She stays with Dad, she's due in June, Dad insists that she's found her own place by March as he doesn't want her bring "the sprog" home to his two bedroom apartment. March quickly approaches, she has been sitting at home on the dole, hasn't saved any money. H and Dad have a big fight, H packs up a few of her clothes and leaves a note saying she's going to stay with Mum "for a couple of days". In June, while living with Mum, she gives birth to "the first grand child" and ceremoniously rubs it in her childless sister's face at every opportunity.

"A couple of days" stretched out to 3 years, she didn't have to pay rent, just buy food, prepare meals and clean the house...... so that brings us to around March this year. She has a fight with Mum's bf and is given 2 weeks to get out. The next day, without leaving a note, without a goodbye, she sneaks out without a backwards glance and moves in with her friend S and her 10 yr old son where she's been staying, paying $100 a week, since.

H has been receiving a Single Parents Pension since the "first grand child" arrived which equates to about $400 a week. Last year, little Johnny Howard thought it would be a good incentive to offer a "baby bonus" of $3000 for all babies born after July 2004 to encourage Australians to procreate as the national birthrate had dropped significantly. Not to leave those that already kids out, he granted them 2 installments of $600.

Where's she going with all this, you might ask.....

Well yesterday we got approval on a house that we applied for. We need to come up with 4 weeks rent for the bond and then 2 weeks rent in advance.... that's a grand total of $1980. H will be living in the self contained area downstairs and The Chad and I will be living upstairs and we will be splitting the rent 50/50. I asked her how much she had to chip in .....her response...... $100. WTF!!!!!!!!

I rant, I rave, I yell some more, she says she'll ask Dad for a loan....the same "Dad" that she left with a $1000 phone bill and has not once offered even the smallest amount to repay him. He said he would, but to try and hit Mum up first. H asks Mum for $400, Mum (who is in Sydney on "business" atm) tells H that there is a signed blank cheque on the kitchen counter. WTF!!!!!!!!

Even though $400 would contribute to the bond, it's not HALF. So I rant, I rave, I yell some more.....

Some hours later on the way to the football my phone rings....

Me: Hello
H: It's your lucky day
Me: Huh?
H: It's your lucky day
Me: why is it my lucky day?
H: Mum said she'll pay the full amount
Me: (thinking the full $1980) WHAT????
H: Mum said she'd give me the full $660
Me: (with the greatest amount of sarcasm) Oh that's great.....so we'll only be out of pocket $1320.....great
H: but you'll get the bond back on the place your in
Me: ohhhh......so we'll only be $400 out of pocket then.....jolly good.
H: Ian doesn't know though, though he should complain, he loans his kids money all the time.......but at least I'LL pay it back
Me: insert hysterical laughter
H: what.....what are you laughing about?

So there you have it..... while we have to dip into our savings, Miss Thing is getting a free ride once again....... but apparently it's MY lucky day......

Happy Birthday....

Happy Birthday A.J.

It’s been 12 months since you grew wings ......... not a day goes by that we don’t think about you...... not a minute goes by that we don’t miss you........
We love you little one......

Forever
Your Mum & Dad
xxx

Fear and loathing in Brisvegas

I've noticed the last week or two that I've been shying away from "personal" entries and keeping things pretty light (I blogged about my zit, though a zit on the nose is a VERY traumatic experience).

In all honesty, the closer I get to the date of my hysteroscopy, the more freaked out I get. What if they find something wrong? What if I can never have children? Scarier still.....what if they tell me there IS nothing wrong? What if they give me the green light to go forth and procreate?

TTC again opens up the same old can of worms..... knowing we're not "doing it" just for fun, the agonizing 2 week wait, the HPT's that I become obsessed with taking, the disappointment when AF arrives.

Then there's the fear I feel when I think about actually being pregnant again. Most women get more and more excited as the 12 week stage approaches. Both of our miscarriages happened after that "safe" period, after everything was suppose to be OK.

Dr C said they would keep a very close eye on me next time with scans every week, but what if it's not enough? How do I remain sane in those 7 days between scans? I know I'm jumping the gun a bit.... I'm not even pregnant yet, but I can't help thinking about.....obsessing about it.......

The "what if's" are going to do my head in already.

12 months ago tomorrow, we lost our first baby. Our little A.J. It feels like only yesterday..... the memories are so vivid. The blood.....the hospital..... the unbearable pain... the needles.......feeling his tiny body leave me........how empty I felt..... how my heart felt as though it had been ripped out...... his tiny body ..... his long legs that we just like his Daddy's.......

I miss my little boys......

To old for this shit Pt 2

I've got a fucking pimple..... not just any kind of pimple.... it's big and red....and it's on my FUCKING NOSE!!

I could give Leigh Matthews a run for his money in the red nose department.



It's gross.... it's hideous ..... it's beyond angry... it's furious! Foundation isn't covering it..... concealer isn't either..... it's positively glowing.... and I'm NOT HAPPY JAN!!!!

I'm fucking 32 years old and I'm STILL getting pimples AARRGGGG!
This is not right....it's just not fair..... pimples AND wrinkles..... the injustice of it all..... *sigh*

They're Back!

The steps.......bigger and better than ever before.....well maybe not bigger, but definitely better.



The builders did an awesome job on them..... but it still doesn't make me want to stay here.

AND they left a bunch of crap here that we now have to get rid of. Grrrrrrr.

Glossy pages

Pregnant women are out to get me... via cheesy glossy magazine covers.

It started with the
"Dear Fans,
The time has finally come to share our wonderful new that we are expecting our first child together." Britney Spears .

Then Bec Cartwright and Lleyton Hewitt hit the magazine racks with news they are expecting. Now who didn't see THAT coming?? "Dating" for 6 weeks, he pops the question, now she's 3 months pregnant? All that is missing from this pretty picture is Daddy with a shotgun.

Now it's Ben and Jen (not that Jen, this Jen).

And lets not forget Princess Mary's "miracle" pregnancy. Miracle?? Did she suffer through several miscarriages or be put through a barrage of invasive tests and operations? Nooooo.... it's a *cough* "miracle" she's pregnant because she had an operation on her GALLBLADDER last year. Yes, all pregnancies are a miracle, the whole creation of life and all, but come on lady...... last time I checked your gallbladder wasn't remotely connected to your reproductive system.

I hate to admit it, but I find myself wishing these women to lose their babies. I know it's horrible.... I feel guilty feeling this way, but it's the truth. (Not so much Jen and Mary, they are older and Jen just seems so damn nice, but definitely the young sprightly Brit and Bec.) Strangely, I don't feel this way about women I see out in public, only the celebs who stare at me from those nasty magazines, those ones that lead a charmed life, the young, beautiful, successful ones.

I knew that there are celebrities that must have suffered loss, so I hit google and was quite surprised at the amount of famous women who had miscarried.
I found babyfruit's blog and her entry about celebrity miscarriages.
Tori Amos, Amy Brenneman (from Judging Amy), Pam Anderson, Christy Brinkley, Brooke Shields, just to name a few, have all gone through this devastating loss, but you don't see magazines throwing big dollars their way to tell their stories in all their glossy, double page spreads.

Unfortunately, this is an elite club, and no matter how hard people try to understand what it's like to lose a child through miscarriage, they only just scrape the surface of how deep the pain really runs.

*******************

I was going to steal Wil Wheaton's idea (he's the kid that was in Stand by Me with River Pheonix) and use the title of whatever song was playing on iTunes as the title of each post, but as I finished writing this entry, iTunes was playing "My boomerang won't come back" by Rolf Harris, so I scrapped that idea...

Why the fuck do I have a copy of THAT on my hard drive?

Door way to....

N-O-T-H-I-N-G-N-E-S-S






The builders didn't come back today because of the rain......bloody sissy's....big burly boys scared of using a few power tools in the rain...pphhttt to them.
So until the rain stops, we have no back steps.

Things you don't want to hear....

From the builders that are here repairing our house...

"Hey Mick" snigger "you've gotta come and look at this"
"Fuck me, that's fucked" *chahortle*
"And look at this" more sniggering
"Isn't that suppose to be a weight baring support beam?"
"Yep" snigger
"Who ever built this deck has no fucking clue"
"I wouldn't let my mother in law live in this place mate, it's a fucking death trap"

Um, HELLO boys.... I CAN HEAR YOU!!
Talk about being made to feel safe and secure in your own hovel.....

It's all about the numbers......

We've been trying to have a baby since June 2003. It doesn't seem that long ago that we started trying, but in reality it has.... almost 2 years now.... where has the time gone?

It's been 716 days since we started trying

We've spent
128 days bleeding
126 days wondering if we timed it right
196 days pregnant
and 185 days of waiting to try again

I've had
9 - HPT's
2 + HPT's
4 trips to the emergency room
386 faceless people poke at my cooter
2 D & C's
Been poked by at least 134 needles
Been to 2 Memorial Services
Held 1 tiny angle (they wouldn't let me hold A.J)
And shed 198 574 398 772 tears


I have to wait another 22 days until my hospital appointment, and will fall over dead if they give me the results that day.... so more time waiting..... BLAH!
I really should be doing something a little more constructive with myself....
................
On a brighter note.... they've come to fix my "oh so unsafe" back steps today.... not that it'll make us want to stay here, because we won't..... the house is just a shit heap....end of story....... but at least the steps will be safe...

My forever....

Mother's Day

I've been reading More Voices in My Ear by Doris Stokes, the famous medium.
Today I neared the end of the book where after asking the spirit world what the afterlife is really like, she is guided by her son who died at 6 months of age, who appears to her as a fully grown man. Here is an exert....

" We floated out of the hospital and along a little path fringed by flowers and trees. Birds swooped low over our heads and I saw a deer dart away to our right.
A few minutes later we came to a low, round building and the most exquisite woman came out to meet us. She was dressed in white, and seemed to shine, and the love that emanated from her was almost tangible. Perhaps this is where ones come to be judged, I thought, a little frightened even though I knew there was no reason to be. But they took me inside and my eyes grew in amazement. All around the walls were rows of glowing, transparent shells through which little creatures could be seen.
'But they're babies, aren't they?' I gasped. They looked just like human foetus is varying stages of growth.
'Yes, my child, they are babies,' the woman told me.
'These are the babies who didn't fulfill their full term and were sent back before they were born.'
'What happens to them?' I asked, peeping into the little silvery shells.
'They are born into the spirit world and given to spirit mothers who take care of them' she explained.
Fascinated, I wandered round looking into each little window. Perhaps when I came over I might be given one? I felt something touch my arm.
'Come and see the nurseries, Mother,' said John Michael.
The nurseries were just behind the waiting place and they were full of laughing children. They raced, they tumbled and played boisterous games and it was hard to remember that they'd died tragically, on earth, and feel sad for them because they look so happy. /There were quite a few adults there, as well, and I was told these were either spirit mothers who brought the children up as their own, or they were relatives.
One elderly lady approached. 'Come and see my great grandson,' she said proudly and took me to a corner where an angelic little boy was sitting on the floor playing with building bricks. When he saw me he beamed and held out his chubby little arms and I couldn't resist picking him up. I don't know what I had expected, but within seconds I was cuddling warm, solid, human flesh. there was nothing wraith-like about him.
"He came over tragically at fourteen months old', his great-grandmother explained. 'Fortunately I was already here so I take care of him. His name is Christopher James.'

I know some people may find the whole afterlife thing a bit hard to believe, but it gives me a bit of piece knowing that my boys are being taken care of and that they continue to grow. A.J would be a chubby 6 month old little boy who would be learning how to roll over, cutting his first teeth, and dribbling and cooing while being bounced on his great grandparents knees. And our little Jesse would be in his silvery shell, still growing and growing..........

Being left behind.....

The Chad came home last night with the news that a friend of his had gotten approval for a home loan and was going to buy a house.

This "friend" aka The Crow (the wanker gave himself this nickname and proudly introduces himself to stranger as thus.....if you are thinking "headcase" then you would be right), is one of those people who, no matter how much shit is thrown their way, it never sticks.....mainly because his parents are forever there wiping it off their golden child.

Many years ago, while being left to look after his baby, who would have been no more than 8-9 months old, this little one "mysteriously" breaks his leg and a couple of ribs. The Crow stands before the judge, denies any wrong doing, sheds a few tears, is given community service, a pissy fine and no conviction recorded. Our justice system at it's finest......

He then goes on to have another 2 healthy children with the same woman. How she could have stayed with him I will never now, let alone have another 2 kids to him.

Just last year, girlfriend ups and leaves...... and leaves all three kids with him!

The Crow gets caught stealing at work, but where others had been fired for less, he was given a warning.

While he is out going to raves, doing "E's" and whooping it up, his parents are looking after the little ones.

When he blows all his money on tattoos, drugs and stupid crap for his hotted up corolla, his parents pay his rego, the electricity bills and fill his cupboards with food.

The owner of the house that he rents offers him a once in a life time opportunity, to buy the house for a price WAY less than the market value. You'd think that after all the crap, karma would finally catch up with him....but nooooooo.... his parents put their house up at collateral and he gets the loan...... he gets the house.

My Dad raised me to be independent. I didn't see it when i was growing up, but am extremely grateful for it now. When I wanted something, he told me to save up for it. When I wanted to go somewhere, he refused to be my taxi service, I'd have to find my own way. This even meant at 15, walking home at midnight from the train station, down a dirt track and through the bush. (Remember, this was nearly 20 years ago.....way back when it was "safe" for a girl to do this.) I had a job at 14, I paid for my own clothes, make up and girlie magazines.

At 15, he insisted that, if I wanted to go out and drink while under the legal age, that I had to have $150 in a "get out of jail" account because he wasn't going to pay the fine. He never approved of me drinking, but said that if I chose to do it, and got caught, then I'd have to deal with the consequences.

While I bucked and screamed and threw many temper tantrums because of his refusal to pander to my every whim, I find myself where I am today, an independent, self reliant woman who knows that my actions are my own and with the tools to get myself out of the shit when needed.

So when it comes to The Crow and many more like him, who is more to blame ? The child who refuses to grow up and take responsibility, or the parents who continue to "baby" their 30 something year old son?

Why when I know we should feel proud because we are responsible adults and pay our own bills, buy our own food and go without when we don't have the money, that it still leaves us feeling jealous when we see people moving ahead, even though it's not under their own steam?

And why when we try to live right and be good people that bad shit keeps happening to us, we can never seem to get ahead.

Marathon Post

BLAH! Where do I start? The rate things are buzzing around my head, this is looking to be a marathon entry.
I've never felt so overwhelmed by emotions as I did on Friday. I bit the bullet and finally went around to my friend J's place. No sooner had I gotten out of the car, I could hear the kids screaming "Channy's here.... Channy's here!!", and the thunderous sound of footsteps running through the house. The screen door slammed open and her 4 kids came screaming out, arms wide open and amassed me in the most amazing hug. They had me in tears even before I'd walked through the door. I hadn't realized that I had missed them so much.... or fathomed a thought that they could have missed me.

As for J.... well she looked like shit....but only because of her dyke like hair cut. I'm just going to put it down to pregnancy hormones......lol. (Sorry J..... you know I love you....lol)

Saturday was VERY eventful. I was awoken by the shrill of the telephone at 10:45 (yes I've become a slack bitch and have taken to sleeping in BIG TIME. I guess going to bed at 4:30am had a little something to do with it) And who do you think was on the phone...... my *cough* friend that I mentioned here. She was in Brisvegas and apparently didn't receive my nasty NASTY email (I was having a bad day). She wanted to see me. I let lose with a tirade of abuse letting her know how much her lack of contact had hurt me, how the phone call from her with her children screaming "mummy mymmy mummy" down the phone tore my heart out. Not unusual for her, she turned it all around and made it about herself (she suffers badly from PND) and how she'd been having such a hard time of it. Blah blah blah.....lengthy conversation.....many tears..... we cleared the air and she came over for a visit. It was nice to see her and we, in some way, reconnected. In a way that friends that have known each other more than half their lives do...... I wish I could say nice things like "I wish I could be there for her to help her through this" but, I know I don't have the strength to allow her to lean on me AND keep my own head above water. I'm being selfish aren't I? I knew it.

Saturday night saw the return of the GREAT Jonathan Brown with a massive 8 goals and a win to drag our sorry arses off the bottom of the ladder.

So all in all Saturday wasn't too bad.

Monday I received an update from LostSchoolFriends where to my surprise, I found an old friend had joined up. My Dad use to call her "144". Just like 13 is a bakers dozen, 144 is a gross..... doesn't my Dad have the most twisted sense of humor??? So not to confuse her with the "other" J, we'll call her 144.

We'd been friends since year 8 when we were 12 and had a major falling out about 7 years ago. I can't remember the details exactly, just that she screamed down the phone at me that my expectations of her were too high and that she just couldn't live under my judgemental gaze anymore. This coming from a girl who always insisted that everything was bigger,better,faster, longer. If I met a cute guy, her's was hotter.... if I slept with someone who had a big one.... the one she slept with was not only bigger, but it lasted longer and she, without a doubt had at least 3 more orgasams than I did.

Anybody that knows me, knows that I'm not judgemental. If you're fat, thin, short, tall, rich, poor.... I don't care..... as long as you're a good person, that's all that matters.

Anywho.... I heard from her about 5 years ago, she'd just given birth to her second child, a daughter, and wanted me to meet her. I know it was her way of trying to burry the hatchet, but until I heard "I'm sorry" tumble out of her mouth, I wasn't going entertain the idea of letting bygones be bygones. I'm still waiting......

So I looked at 144's entry, and found that she's now married (which doesn't bother me cause The Chad is all that and a packet of chips) and not only did she have the 13 yr old and the 6 yr old that I knew about, she also had an 8 mth old and was pregnant with her 4th.......due in August.

So here I sit, at 32 and a bit, baron, and I have to admit that I'm green with envy. Where has my life gone? I know I wasted almost 10 years with The Bitter One......but still......grrrrrrrr. I've held on to the same crappy job for the last 9 years in the hope that I'd get pregnant and they at least offer maternity leave (unpaid of course) and are very flexible in regards to returning to work/family commitments.

So I guess she wins .... her's is bigger, better, faster, longer......

But she is she and I am me.....and what it all boils down to is.........regardless of how many kids she has......
I'm still WAY prettier than her.......