Saturday, 26 February 2011

Pinocchio and Betty Boop

It's the last weekend of summer. Good. Bring it. I need a change of season badly. Don't know much at the moment. I know that yesterday, when I took Rocco to the park - when I packed a blanket and called it a picnic, he got so excited. And we both sat there in the sun, with our big vanilla milkshakes. I patted and kissed and loved on him. And talked to him, looked him in the eyes and really focussed on him. Maybe for the first time in - ever. I have been so pre-occupied, so hectic. A lot of realisations are making their way to the surface now.

Earlier, Rocco told me *very* gravely that he had a present for me, and to come into his bedroom. I did, vowing that I would clean up the big mess in there, after I get better. I have never gone through his clothes properly, like you're supposed to when you have a kid. Never put a photo of him in my wallet. His birthday cards are scattered everywhere ... the cards from the day of his birth all mixed up with chemotherapy pamphlets. Still.

He held something behind his back, I knelt down to be on his level. He pulled it out .... a pinocchio, from a McCrappy Meal. He gave it to me very seriously. I said thank you, VERY much Rocco. It was like he was telling me to get real. But then ... he had another toy that he pulled from behind his back. It was an identical pinocchio. (Rocco really wants me to get real.)

Thank you for your kind emails .... you made me realise one of the best things about blogging, which is the connections you can form with people. And the connections people form with you - people you've never heard from, until they send an email laced with love, and you're all like, wow ..... there are some amazing people in the world.

I have some great guest posts coming - on Monday is one from this cool American chick who lives in the UK. She has tattoos. She loves her children fiercely.

Please send me through some words if you want ... you don't even have to have a blog. I need your words to gnaw on, while I work out what shape mine are going to take from now on.

Here is a post from Amy Q Coocachoo (try not saying that with a Betty Boop-esque twang). She is Australian - I met her on twitter a while ago. She talks here about the risks of being online, working out how much you should disclose on your blog.


I have tried and failed with blogging many, many times. In highschool I blogged about my friends, boyfriends, mean teachers and general teenage stress, until people started to get angry at my honesty. I actually had a [very immature] teacher fail me in highschool because she saw my blog in which I accused her of favouring me and my best friend because she saw us as friends more than students. My straight As went to Ds. It cost me my desired uni course. In my late teens while at uni I confided things in my blog about my long term boyfriend and the pressure I felt about settling so young. He read the blog and that relationship soon crumbled. These days I genuinely fear sharing anything, even with false names, in the fear that the people who I might whine about will hunt me down and cause me grief. I believe in honestly and transparency. This gets me into strife thanks to ye olde facebook.

Unfortunately these days, what I really want to share, and desperately wish I could, is that of my battle with depression. Anyone who's dealt with any form of depression knows how harrowing and lonely it can be. So I'm taking up blogging again. I am an avid reader of edenland and blog such as yours gives me the courage and desire to write what I feel, to be part of the Australian mummy blogger revolution! And to share what I feel, because I might just be touching another mum sitting behind her desk in Brisbane.

Peace! x


  1. Thanks Amy. You will, you know ... if you sit there at your computer and write a post about something going on for you in your life, odds are you WILL touch another mum sitting behind her desk in Brisbane. Aint no blog stat better than connecting with a real, live person. xox

  2. They're perceptive these kids. The first time Lilly asked me if I was alright was when I was crying while I was giving her a bath. She's two and she's asking me if I'm alright.

    Welcome to the revolution Amy :-)

  3. Whatever words come out..whatever shape your blog twists and turns..I'll still enjoy your honesty.

  4. e I'm thinking about you. will wrote more in email tomorrow.


Write to be understood, speak to be heard. - Lawrence Powell

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