Monday, 27 April 2015

World's Okayest Mum!

Exactly seven years ago I had my hair done before Rocco was born because it'd be a while before I'd be able to get my hair done again.

Max and Crash Bandicoot could not WAIT for that baby to come out!

Oh that baby. Wow. He operated in a sleep-deprived haze, so did I. We slogged it through, somehow. Day after day of routine and cleaning and washing and cooking. Being a stepmum to older kids and their dad was going through chemo for cancer and constantly fronting up to do everything that needed to be done was challenging. It wasn't much fun, most of the time. Rocco didn't sleep and cried so much. Nothing seemed wrong - he just cried. And cried. And cried. And I had to walk away, many times. Outside into that freezing winter and I'd look up crying tears of frustration and exhaustion, wondering what was going to happen. When would it get better?

Those early days are over so now I can totally romanticise them and wish them back and marvel at how exquisite and tiny my children were. And then I look at them and they still are. And we've moved on and shifted and the world turns and I constantly tell them stories of funny things they used to do when they were babies. I wonder how their parents separation is affecting them. We've talked about it. They're affected, of course they are. I miss them so intensely when I'm not with them that I can barely stand it. I worry. I'm doing the best that I can ... and to fall short of that and have days where I kind of hardly get by? Sucks. Blows. I've always been a fucking amazing mother. A really bloody good one, defending and loving and giving to all my kids fiercely. I teach them stuff I think they should know about the world, kind of brainwash them a bit.

"One of the most important things you guys have to do in the world is help other people when they need help. Always look around, make sure everybody around you is ok."

My kids have felt me pull away since the death of my brother and everything that's happened after. I dropped the ball, really. Have been sitting on the benches for a while, watching them play.

Brutal, loving them so deeply while having an incredibly tired spirit. I blinked and Max is inches from being taller than me, asking if he can please watch Breaking Bad?


"Oh come on mum!"

No bloody way are you serious? What do you mean you're too old to play handball at lunch anymore? Why is your voice so deep? You sure you don't want me to come to the movies with you?

"I'm sure mum. I'll be fine."

And he is. He is a FINE young man. They both are. There's only a limited amount of time left for me to mother these two beautiful, healthy, naughty, caring, outrageous, stinky little men. I got work to do and I better hurry if I want to be remembered as one of the most biggest influencers of their lives. I want everything for them. Everything. Even though nobody gets everything. They'll go through their own turmoils and hard times ..  I want them to open their eyes and hearts to the world and people around them. Can a flawed woman raise mighty warriors? I think yes. Flawed women are extraordinary fighters.

Maybe the biggest thing I'll teach all of my kids is to not ever give up. Keep going after the world keeps burning down around you. Keep striding, guys. Take a rest. Get back up. Again. You got this. I know it you do. I believe in you. You are amazing. Get up.

I'll never be the best most caring amazing selfless stunning homemaking crafting intelligent super-incredible mother of all time but I can be a mostly okay mother. We all fuck our kids up. Yes even you. I just hope I don't fuck mine up too much. Wish there was a book called "On Hopefully Not Fucking Ones Kids Up Too Much."

I'd buy it.

I can make my boys laugh, teach them rap and the importance of words, kneel down on the floor in front of them so they look down on me for a change. I can listen to their hearts, show them how to take care of themselves, and throw as much armour and love onto them before they walk out into the arena of a world I do not understand. Everybody meets the world sooner or later, ready or not.

It is beautiful. But fuck this world. I have no idea what the hell is going on. Just keep going, keep loving. Stupid beautiful fucking world.


Hey do you want to come to this?

Brisbane, 20th June. Come. I'll be doing a presentation on motherhood unlike anything you've ever seen .. may need to break out the big guns hoodie for it.

I love Brisbane, so much warmer than the Blue Mountains why can't I live there every winter. I'll be skimping on a hotel and crashing at Megan's house. Megan told me the other day "You can sleep on the mattress in the toyroom and smell Rocco's wee." The last night we slept there at christmas, Rocco did probably the hugest wee in the world. Not just a tribute - the hugest wee in the world. Our taxi was there and I was kind of laughing and we dragged it out to the sunlight and I grabbed a measuring tape - that circle of wee on Megan's toyroom mattress had a circumference of 80cm. Already has a man bladder, just like his mum.

I'll never forget the shock on her face as I said goodbye. Megan I am so, so sorry about that huge wee.


The Empowering Women Conference is put on by Kristy Valley from The Imperfect Mum. I love Kristy - she's so down to earth and real and wise. AND REAL. Like how you eat a real strawberry and you pause and honour that strawberry, it tastes so good.

"Hey wait man - this strawberry is REAL. Wow."

As real as the struggle.

If you come, please say hi. Tell me you sometimes suck as a mother too. Let's swap secrets and laugh and make each other feel better about how huge this motherhood gig is.

So much expectation, so little cake.

(BYO cake. Unless Kristy has organised cake .. hey Kristy will there be cake or do we bring our own?)

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