From Four Cells To Five Years.

The very first time I saw Rocco he was four cells old. Up on a monitor in an IVF clinic and BLIP he was shot into me like a cannon. I walked lightly out of the room, thinking, I could *totally* be pregnant right now.

I was, in the next few weeks I could feel strange tugging like a spider weaving its web up and down. It was Rocco, he took hold like a champ and did not let go. I had all my IVF posse bloggers back then, my Pam and Palemother and Tobacco and Lori and Mel and Louise and Nancy. And Vee. I miss those innocent days.

Rocco grew and grew.

 He was born. He cried for about a year, and woke every few hours.

I only had eyes for Dave, who was really sick at the time.

                 "Mum, Crash Bandicoot is our brother too."

Everything I wanted, yet the universe plays tricks. I was strong for my boys because there was no choice.

Rocco and I went straight from maternity at Katoomba to oncology at Nepean. To visit dad. Not knowing what's going to happen to somebody you love is one of the hardest things to accept.

Dave came home a few weeks later and was on chemo for a long time.

We used to walk around the lake, a lot. And avoid people.

We didn't know back then that fights like this would happen in the future - that Rocco would beat up his dad while wearing a PULLUP. (Hon - looks like that lion is ripping out of your SKIN.)

Spring came, Dave got the all-clear, and five years later we all woke up and got to watch this guy open his presents with utter delight.

NEVER have I seen a person so excited about their birthday. He's been counting down for so long, and he's never really had a party so we went all out. Five just seems to be such a milestone. New bike, 20 kids, a jumping castle ... the works.

My beautiful friend Naomi has a cake-making business called Dough Re Mi. Rocco asked for "Rockman", who technically is called The Thing. The best chocolate cake I've ever tasted in my life - and I've tasted a few.

And the best party he's EVER had in his.

When everybody whacked the piñata they screamed like Beliebers. I was like an airline hostess for two hours, monitoring fights and toilet trips and games and general party mayhem.

"Excuse me .... you spelt my name wrong on my cup."

Rocco's older brother Tim was there, and Phoebe, and Max. When everybody sang happy birthday, he stuck one of his fingers under my hand for security, uncharacteristically shy.

Later I cuddled him so tightly before bed. I felt his heart beating, and marvelled at those four cells.

I love him. I love him.

Washing The Dishes.

I had the idea for time-lapse Buddha ages ago. Saw the sun creeping slowly onto his face one morning and had the idea of making a Vine out of it, so it's all meaningful and shit and I get kudos for being so clever.

At last count, I've tried fourteen times to get it right. Either I miss the sun, or the phone would ring, or the phone would go flat, or I kept pressing the wrong button. I was filled with complete rages during this time. I just want to be clever why won't you behave Buddha I am trying to be all Spiritual.

Then it got funny. I don't even know that much about  Buddhism. I just like how there's no angry, vengeful, catholic god. And also - how could all those chilled out orange-robed guys be wrong?

The very first rehab I went to, at the grand age of 24, I learned nothing. Because I was unteachable. An arrogant, smartarse dickhead. But I did have a torrid love affair with a guy named Eli.

Eli was washing all the twenty sets of dishes one night as I stood there all doey-eyed at him and he said:

"You know, when you wash the dishes .... you should just wash the dishes. Not reflect or think or worry or wander. Just - wash the dishes. That's it."

Eli remains the only person in my life to date to explain Buddhism to me. Being present. Mindfulness.

My therapist told me the other week to narrate what I'm doing in my head. So I have been.

"41 year old woman sits on a chair."  "Drinks glass of water." "Sets table." It's so relieving, and has really helped in settling my anxiety down.

The irony of Buddha making me so furious was not lost on me. Even though I panic while saying good morning at the end ...  I finally did what I set out to do.



PS Top left you can turn the sound on

He's the one sitting on his ledge, knowing all the secrets even though his eyes are shut. I'm the one being a scrambling lunatic.

How do you practice mindfulness?

The Riddle.

Sometimes I stand at school assembly, look around at all the kids, and wonder which of them are gay, lesbian, transgender.

Maybe quite a few, filled with the terror and angst it takes to hide their true selves so that others won't find out. It'd be so, so hard. I can't imagine.

The National spokesperson for PFLAG, Shelley Argent, contacted me recently and asked if I would share this short video.




This Friday the 17th May is International Day Against Homophobia, Intersexphobia, and Transphobia. Hashtag is #IDAHOBIT and it starts at Martin Place at 6.30am til 2pm. There'll be photobooth fun, a roaming army, and lots of supportive attendees.


        LGBT rights ... are human rights

I've heard it gets better.

But there's still a while to go.

Firestarter.

I've been lighting fires, even when it's not that cold.

                                        It just feels so good 

I love having just the right amount of kindling and the bigger stuff. I like making it rage until everybody complains we're living in a sauna.

We did indeed go see mum for Mothers Day. I taught her the correct way to unwrap the aluminium foil on a chicken and blackbean burrito. Mum gave Rocco something he has been harping, hankering for, for months now.

          MUM I GOT HULKY GLOVES NOW I CAN FIGHT ABOMINATION

We paid a mere twenty thousand dollars for our tickets and drinks to go to the movies and see Ironman III.

The drive home was long. Traffic backed up. It doesn't take much to freak me out these days, but I was as patient as could be. Max asked me if I could stop and buy him a box of TWENTY chicken nuggets from the golden arches.

"I promise I'll eat them mum. You watch ... I'm starving."

I thought about getting home late and preparing dinner - so the arches it was. We had to wait in the waiting bay while they cooked them. Lady came over, gave them to me. I handed them to Max who had a funny look on his face and said,

"Mum. You may want to ..... close your window."

I closed it, absentmindedly thinking he didn't like the breeze but then hang on - there is no breeze. I turned to look at him, holding his ginormous box, looking at me all worried. At that moment, I knew. I KNEW ... there was a huntsman spider on the car.

I have arachnophobia so badly that I weep. There's only one thing worse than having a huntsman spider on your car - it's not knowing if it's inside or outside the car.

HE'S CALLING FROM INSIDE THE HOUSE.

Max said it's *probably* outside. He also said it was quite big. Things go a little hazy at this point. Max later tells me I said the words:

"NUP. No. I can't do this. No way."

And then climbed over on top of him to get out of the car, which was by now right in the middle of the drive thru traffic. Other cars had already started to bank up. I begged the woman in the white car behind me to please help me get the spider off the car. She ignored me. I went up to teenagers, a family, they all said and did nothing for the wildly panicked woman. Really, society?

Pleasehelpmethereisaspideronmycar.

My hands were sweaty and I was half-crying, until FINALLY a beautiful woman came up to me and told me it was ok, then shouted to her kids to go inside and get Uncle Terry. She took my clamster hand and told me that this happened to her one time too. And unfortunately she never found it. We both laughed a little maniacally ... she was SO lovely to me.

A McDonalds employee came out, wondering why there were about twenty cars blocked in all directions. He was all shitty and I said dude, there's a spider in my car. I'm not moving it anywhere.

Suddenly, out comes Uncle Terry. I scream at him. UNCLE TERRY!! My car was still idling at this point. He gets in and goes to park it somewhere so the cars could pass. The woman next to me says, "Hey so, isn't your other child still in your car?"

FUCK.

I had completely forgotten about Rocco. I couldn't even rush over to see if he was ok when Uncle Terry parked because SPIDER. I was banking on him showing his toughness.

Uncle Terry and the woman (her name was Susan) helped look in and around and on my car for the huntsman. There is no way I could have driven home if we didn't find it. The logical conclusion would be to rescue Rocco, then pour petrol on it and light a match. FINALLY, Uncle Terry sees it. Flicks it off and stomps on it like the hero he is. I high-fived Uncle Terry and hugged Susan. I love them. I will love them forever.

"Thank you for helping people that you don't even know!"

We drove home, my adrenal gland SHOT, my body heat fogging up all the windows because SPIDER.

I lit the fire. Then we all put our pj's on without having a shower and watched TV together on the couch. I apologised to Rocco for leaving him in the car. His exact words:

"Pfffffft. I wasn't scared mum. I just wanted to see the spider."

::

PS I wrote about not caring about being an under-achiever over on Mix.FM HERE

PPS I keep thinking there's spiders on me. I'm scratching, flicking, on high-alert. I blame that scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark - remember when he had spiders ALL over his back? YEAH.

The Nature Of Ambition.

Grant Snider is from Incidental Comics.

Except Me. I'm Still Talking About The End Of The World.

What's with all the bullshit about Mother's Day? Why do all the "things" ... like Christmas and Easter ... keep getting bigger each passing year? All my mum wants for Mother's Day is a burrito. And to come to the movies with me and the boys on Sunday to watch Ironman 3 with us because she watched Ironman 1 and 2 with Jim. We might even eat our burritos IN the cinema with lunch dessert on our laps. WHO EVEN KNOWS. Point is, we're spending some time with people we love. That's all. Does everything have to be marketed to the shithouse? I have my cranky pants on today.

I don't know so many things. It's exhilarating and quite frankly, relieving. You know what nine days out of a mental health ward feels like? Fucking terrifying is what it feels like. One day when I was in there, Dave visited with REAL coffee. We sat out on the tiny grass chatting like everything's fine. I was handling it all - my darkest thoughts, diagnosis, crap food, being held against my will.

Then Dave mentions that the budgie flew away.

I cried, like I'm crying now, and I cry everytime I think about the budgie. Who knows if he made it, out there in the Big Scary World. I had a connection with that budgie. Really grew to love him. Max let him out in his bedroom then Rocco left the front door open and now he's gone. If I'd have been here, it wouldn't have happened.

The thing about the budgie that always baffled me is that when I let him out, to fly and cruise around the house, he didn't want to. He'd always fly back to his cage and wait patiently, to be let back in.

::

About an hour ago, I'm sitting here on my couch in crazy-persons clothes, greasy, stinky, sad. There was a knock at the door and a courier delivered me these:

It's twelve bottles of wine from a PR agency - for Mothers Day.

As a recovering alcoholic I am not offended at all. This has made me laugh so, SO hard. For the first time in ages. So hard. (I can guarantee any alcohol company they do not want a product review from me ... unless it involves faeces, fornication, vomit, and raging despair.)

::

In the mail I also received a gift from two beautifuls, Magnetoboldtoo and Veggiemama.

"I tried to drown my sorrows but the damn things learned to swim." 

It's a quote by Frida Kahlo, that U2 used in the song describing a conversation between Jesus and Judas, "The End of the World."



I was 21 at this concert. Thought I knew everything. (Maybe I did.)

::

It's Friday. Street Talk day. Can't do it. I'm barely functioning, on a shitload of medication that we're still "tweaking." Severe constipation, a urinary tract infection that has given me a fever, and a head that still wants to kill me. I've purposely stayed off this blog because no news is good news, right?

So because there's no rules to blogging I'm going to cheat at Street Talk today and tell you about somebody I met on the street approximately twenty years ago. You know that Dr Seuss book when the the north-going Zax meets the South-going Zax? In the Prairie of Pax?

Well that's exactly what happened to me and this guy one day walking through Hyde Park in Sydney. There was plenty of people around, but we were walking from opposite directions in exactly the same manner, got to each other, stopped, and looked.

And this dude goes,

"Well .... hi!"

And I said,

"Hi!"

Then we stood there for about twenty minutes, chatting. I can hardly remember the conversation - but I do remember that when he told me his name was Electric, he put his pointer finger on my arm and went ZZZZT and we both laughed.

We exchanged rings - I think I still have his, somewhere. It's big, never fit me, and made from metal. But I kept it. Never saw him again.

Once you talk to someone, they're not a stranger anymore. It's the darndest thing.

::

Friday Street Talk is an unfolding art project. I'm so grateful and blown away that people say yes to talking with me, trusting me with some snippets of who they are. 
Previous Street talks:

1. Noelene the Young
2. Megan the Mouse
3. Harpal the Australian
4. Darren the Artist
5. Jo the Interesting
6. John the Telstra Guy
7. Michael the Photographer
8. Peg the Lady
9. Jeff the Preacher Man
10. Andres the Cobbler
11. Honey the Prostitute
12. Mark the Masseur
13. You the Blog Reader
14. Jo the Podiatrist
15. Casey the Uni Student
16. Dream the Horse and Carriage Driver
17. Tamas the Hungarian Accordionist


PS I'm seeing three professionals and doing all the right things and trying to just chill but man I completely understand why the budgie wanted to go back into his cage. I miss hospital.

PPS ALLIE BROSH CAME BACK.

PPPS Mum for Mothers Day you're getting a burrito AND twelve bottles of wine.

This Monday Mix.

Our lemon tree overfloweth. Dave has taught all of the boys to wee on it, which causes me a bit of grief because WEE.

There's always about 50 lemons on the wee tree at any one time. My mum stayed all last week, shopping and cooking and minding. Then she was gone, leaving fresh washing, new books, and a few batches of lemon butter in her wake.

                                     CAN'T EVEN.

I remember when I was a kid and someone at school would unwrap a lemon butter sandwich and I'd think how disgusting it sounded. Guess what? Not disgusting. So yum, and guilty and moreish.

I feel really exhausted. As weak as a jellyfish, waiting for my brain to catch up to everything.

The Sydney Writers Festival is looming, I just checked out the itinerary ... some people are incredible. In its honour, some of Sydney City's street cleaning trucks have been transformed with Sydney Writers' Festival curated poetry.

So you lucky people of Sydders get to see things like this:

                    Garbage and Art - Two Of My Favourite Things. Well done, Clover.

That particular poem is called "Walking Back From The Dam" by Australian poet Martin Harrison:

Back in New York, you could die in taxis. 
Fame, too, was serious, personal, mythic: 
an image captioned in the heart of things. 
As if you lived, hovering, in the sun’s eye. 
And when it was sunset, there was Rome and cocktails. 
Everyone met everyone - stuck, anxious, suicidal.
Dreaming themselves, frantically, to death.

::

As of today, I'm an official Mix FM blogger. Details HERE ... my two comrades are the smart, switched-on Marina Go, and the effervescent Julie Anne Longano. Watch this space .... we'll be covering a range of issues, people, places. I love how we're literally mixing up media - blogging, radio, interviews, writing. The opportunities and creativity are as ripe as the lemons.

I recently interviewed Sam Moran about his new Nick Jr show, Play Along With Sam. Every weekday morning at 10am, the ex-yellow Wiggle stars in his new musical show, designed to get toddlers and pre-schoolers up and moving. Sam isn't afraid of playing a ukelele while wearing the coolest safari suit in town. He was so lovely to talk to. (You can read my interview with him HERE.)

I'm excited. It feels good to feel excited. I hope it lasts a little bit.

(Because I didn't finish at 3 minutes and 10 seconds either.)