Non-Alcoholic

When I was in hospital for alcohol withdrawal, I was put on a drug called Campral.  This is supposed to stop all craving for alcohol and assist greatly in creating permanent abstinance, if taken for 2 years.

For the first few months I think it helped greatly. Over Christmas I thought more about drinking than at any other time since I quit. Wine and beer were everywhere.  I got through that, without much suffering at all, and I have had no desire to drink whatsoever.

So I gave up the Campral.  Part of the reason was that I hated having to be on a medication regime that included nineteen tablets a day (Campral alone was 6 a day).  The other was that I needed to know if I could do this on my own.

And you know what?  I can.  A whole month and not one desire to drink.

I haven't gone to AA because I reject totally the notion of giving myself over to a higher power.  I am the higher power. I am responsible for what I do or what I do not do.  If I am going to beat this, then I must do it. I must do it. Not a higher power. Not medications to change my brain even more.

So I'm doing it.

How about that?

And also

Just look at how clever I am! Go on, I'll wait.  Yes, see! Cle.ver at figuring out how to use my Android phone as a tethered 3G modem for my laptop 'puter. Figured it out all by myself I did.

Take THAT nerds!!!  Oh crap. If I did it that, ikso fatso, makes me a nerd too.

2006: A Re-Cap

So that screeching noise wasnt my IQ dropping at an alarming rate after all. It was 2006 passing me by.

I feel like I have done nothing at all for the last twelve months, and yet it went by before I had time to blink. When people ask me what I've been doing I never have an interesting answer. What the hell has filled up the last 365 days and nights?

There were some major renovations while heavily pregnant, death of a beloved kitty, something about 3 days of labour I vaguely remember, a screaming underfed baby, a happier well-fed baby, a teething baby, a husband with a shoulder reconstruction, major gardening projects, parents in the hospital, a family breakdown, a buggered knee, an anniversary holiday, a baby with separation anxiety, more gardening projects, a teething paby (part 2), and then the year is over.

This year, I'd like less of the bits that involve hospitals and screaming, and more of the bits that involve me with a glass of wine, swaying palm trees and Jack Sparrow to feed me oysters.

Happy OughtSeven, y'all.

Xmas Lovin'

With no permission given whatsoever:

12:26 PM
Lala: will do
luv u longtime
me: luv u longtime one dollar
Lala: cheap whore
for you twenty dollar
12:27 PM
me: ty
you too spensive for me
Lala: yw
someday you big spender, you afford me
12:28 PM
me: you classy lady, i make money, i come back for you
Lala: I not wait, but if you lucky, I brush my teeth that day
12:29 PM
me: okay okay, i come back soon, dont forget me preese
Lala: i don't forget you, happy christmas wench
me: messy kwesnus, slapper

Sleepy

For so long I have said to myself "I really must do something with my photography again." And what have I done? Nothing.

No more! Lala alerted me to JPG Magazine, the website where amateur photographers can submit their best work for publication. After much tearing out of hair that my photos arent good enough, I submitted this shot of Spudly falling asleep at my boob for their next issue.

I sure would appreciate it if you'd go vote for my submission if you deem it worthy.

NAQ

Am feeling very despondent about my knee, which may or may not require surgery and we wont know for a month. If its no better then its scans and Orthopedic Surgeons and being shunted through the public health system. Yeh!

My life has become so much about looking after other people now that I’m starting to forget all the cool, not-so-cool, downright horrid and really wonderful things I used to do and be. Right now I’m a mother and a wife and a Minister For Everything and occasionally a real-life friend, but not often. My only way of re-connecting to the person I was pre-Enspudification is through my writing at this point. So here’s what I’m gonna do.

I’m gonna write a list of things about me, you let me know what you wanna hear about. Maybe one day Spudly will read this and find out that his mother was more than the ass-wipin’, spoon-feedin’, blower-of-noses and taxi service and was, at one point, quite cool.

1. My adventures in drug-taking.
2. Dodgy things I have done (other than point 1.)
3. How I met Monkey-Boy.
4. That time I took my university to the Supreme Court.
5. How I took on my bank over my mortgage contract and won.
6. Returning to finish high-school as an adult.
7. The real story of my battle with depression and anxiety.
8. My brothers’ suicides.
9. How I fucked up my back and spent 6 months not being able to walk.
10. Umm...there is no 10. Ask me a random question.

Because I Really Need This Right Now

So its not enough that Monkey Boy has one arm for the foreseeable future and I am Minister For Everything. I also have to go and get myself one of these.

Right knee.

Fuckin fuckitty fuck.

Its All About Me

Lala asked me to write her bio the other day, which I dutifully did. It got me thinking. What do people know about me from just reading this blog. What impression do I leave? And how much does that relate to reality?

Lala responded in kind with the following witty missive.


Married to my twin
by Lala

Wait, that came out wrong.

She's married to a wonderfully intelligent, sensitive and funny man that she has, in the past, referred to as my twin.

THAT'S what I meant to say but I had to sensationalize to grab your interest, right?

No? Well, now that I have your attention, may I introduce the stunning and Gorm-endowed Panda.

Loving mother to Spudly, tolerant wife to the currently gimpy Monkey boy, confidante to roving infertiles (be they from the East or West coasts of Canadia), lover of caribou, cats and candy.

She's a renaissance woman with a deep intellect and sharp wit but not currently in possession of window screens. Some of her many talents include button hunting and hat sewing. She's a licker of many stamps but best of all, she calls me her friend.


What about it folks? What do you know about me? Write me a bio.

Weekly Wrap-Up

Mamma still needs gin because she didnt get the birthday oysters on account of the fact that Someone wouldnt stop screaming in the car on the way back home for dinner, ergo straight to bed (him) without any dinner (me).

I did have a very nice birthday, thankyou very much. I even got to be assaulted by a kangaroo

and stalked by a peacock.

In addition, Spudly, now being a Very Big Boy, graduated from the capsule to the car seat...

and on the day he turned 4 months old, he grabbed his left foot with both hands and shoved it in is mouth.

We're very proud.

The shit that had hit the fan has been dealt with but has left a godawful stench, which I am currently trying to overpower with patchouli. Okay, okay, its not patchouli, its red wine. Will write about this later, maybe.

Monkey Boy goes in for surgery on his shoulder on Thursday, after a 2 year wait. It will be wonderful when its healed and he can do stuff without pain, but until then I get to be the Nursemaid, Chief Cook, Bottle-Washer and Sole Parent, and Wont That Be Fun.

Happy Birthday To Me!

Today I am officially one year older and hopefully one year wiser. Certainly one year closer to 40, which just does my head in.

So today will be spent at our first Playgroup with some New Chums (toys! sandbox!) followed by a visit to a wooden toy factory in the shape of a giant rockinghorse because apparently Spudly needs blocks.

His mamma needs oysters and gin.

Shameless Self-Promotion

Since this describes me to a T (what IS that saying about? Do I look "T"shaped?) I considered it behooved me to join their Blogroll. Over there in the sidebar you'll find a big list of chicks who have a meaningful relationship with their computer.

Broaden your horizons and click on some of 'em.

Happy Anniversary To Me

Today is the 1st anniversary of my foray into the world of blogging, and I feel it behooves me to mark it in some way.

Possibly by finding a way in which to use the word "behooves".

I've been reading through my first posts here, and am struck by a couple of things:

1. I am disgusted by the fact that I was using terminology such as "BD", "AF" and "CM" rather than just writing normal everyday words like "shagging", "period" and "cervical mucous". UGH. Its just too cringe-worthy. Of course, I had not yet come across the term "crimson bitch". I had to read Mollywogger for that one. At least I didnt sprinkle goddamn babydust anywhere.

2. I was sooooo hyper-stressed. I have a tendency to forget the exact emotional state I was in for a given experience and often minimise it to myself, most likely as a protective measure. Reading back what was going through my head and just the tone of those posts when I realised that we were officially infertile, it is obvious to me just how much on a knife edge I was all the time. No bloody wonder I ended up on Prozac.

From this exercise in revisiting the past I can really appreciate how far I've come, how much my snark-factor has increased, how much I've learned about myself and the enormity of the experience of trying so desperately to start our family. In twelve months I have morphed into another person, completely unrecognisable from the scared, angry, frustrated and very lonely Panda that reached out to the world in an attempt to find someone to tell her that she wasnt alone in all this crap. The intensity of emotional pain I felt then is astonishing. That I survived the experience with my sanity and my marriage intact is also astonishing.

The most astonishing thing of all is that the pain has been replaced by an equally intense feeling of love and peace. I doubt I could say that I'd go through it all again, but if the only way to get to this point in my life where I feel at ease with myself, happy with who I am and have finally found what it is I'm supposed to do with my life, then every minute of the last year was worth it.

Who put that cupboard there?

Last night, while attempting to show off my brilliance in finding versatile storage solutions for all our crap, I broke my little toe.

Broke it.

Kicking a cupboard.

How the hell am I supposed to go on a spending rampage in baby stores when I can barely hobble to the loo?

How can something so small hurt sooooooo much?

Will I fit into my funky new shoes now my foot is swollen?

In order to alleviate the pain, I am now going to medicate myself by the adding of chocolate milk to me.

Those were the days....

Outraged by Manuela's recent comments about my faux-pas photograph, which I'll Have You Know was Very Stylish way back in 1990, I have decided to come clean, step into the light and admit to all that I was an 80's Fashion Victim.

Not as bad as Lala, who is still wearing HER 80's outfits, but nonetheless...

Whilst cleaning all the shit out of the soon-to-be-Spud-room, I came across some old dressmaking patterns I had squirreled away with the obvious intention of making one day. Actually, I did make one of them, and I still have it somewhere...






I am particularly fond of the purple puffball, especially with its divine little bows around the hemline. Would go very well with the Leg O Mutton Sloives, Kimmy.

Mixed Bag

A few general observations and such before I go away for a week and have a glorious holiday for the first time in a year.

• I've been sick. Man Cold* sick. Some dodgy Monkey gave it to me, and I'm Not Impressed, especially since he gets the good drugs and I get nothing. I think I'll be better by Monday, when we leave, but in the meantime: WAAAA!

• Spudly can now be seen moving around! I oughta sell tickets. This is most definately the weirdest thing I've ever experienced in my life. I feel like I'm in Alien.

• I had really bad reflux last night and had to "sleep" propped up for the first time. And I was hoping to get away with no dodgy tummy stuff happening. Hmph. Perhaps it was the packet of Mint Slice biscuits I had for dinner...

• I found a really cool bug in my strawberry patch today. Anyone know what it is? I know its a beetle. But what kind of beetle?

Its our second wedding anniversary on Tuesday, so we're heading off to the spot where we started our honeymoon and go back to every year. We have a self-contained cottage on the clifftop overlooking private wetlands. Its quiet, very secluded, and the only sounds you can hear are the frogs and birds of the lagoon. I can not wait.

When I get back, I might write a post on how a Monkey and a Panda got together.

I wont send a postcard. And as much as I dig you all, I'm glad you wont be there.





* Man Cold: a type of upper respiratory infection that is essentially very mild and short-lived, but the sufferer is convinced nonetheless they are going to die.

What I Did On My Weekend

In lieu of anything interesting to say, here's a photo essay on how we spent our weekend.

Monkey Boy recently retrieved his Lego from his parents place. They think we wanted it for Spudly.

They were wrong.

Battle Dragster. Note the rather excessive amount of weaponry. I think one of the guns was labelled a Cheese-Gathering Torpedo. There's a little man with a slopey brick for a head behind the blue canopy.




Assorted vehicles for backup. You never know when you will need a wacky tricycle or a Headless Hotrod.




Its a helicopter. It has guns and goes woketa woketa. Apparently.

Disabled Battle Segue. Mr Spastic previously had only one hand, but through the miracle of medical technology (and finding a spare hand on the floor) he had a donated hand reattached. As yet he doesnt have much feeling in it, so he fires the rocket launcher with his good hand.

Space Pirate on his Hovercraft Space Pirate Radio Station, which plays nothing but Take On Me by A-Harrrr.

Mr Teapot Rotor-head controls the whole fleet, and shoots flames out of his head. Handy.

I Am A Bad Bad Panda #2

Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I truly am. I knew that there would be people starting to freak out, but I didnt expect to have 52 emails in my inbox when I got online again!

I'm FINE.

I'm slack and too stupid to remember to pay my ISP account on time, thereby having no internet access for two weeks, but other than that, perfectly okay.

I do want to say, though, that I am very touched indeed by everyone's concern for my well-being and I find it amazing that people I've never met can care so much about me. So thankyou and big soppy internet hugs to everyone who expressed their concern.

I also want to say that you dont want to get on Manuela's bad side, because she WILL track you down. Crazy bloody Canadadians.

Right. Now my aliveness has been confirmed, I'm going to read what everyone else has been up to.

I will be back. Soon.

Promise.

Panda & Monkey Boy's Birthday Expetition

Here's my Report on What I Did On My Birthday. Click to re-bigulate.

Driving into Monarto Zoo, there are emu wandering around aimlessly. They have right of way.

Enjoying the view from the restaurant before our tour.

Needed a little bit of a lie down after only one glass of wine...

But after a nice strong Soy Latte, we were ready to roll...

Here's me checking out the Bison

Here's me and the 6 month old cheetah cubs

Oh! Oh! Here's me and Monkey Boy with the giraffe herd. Very successful breeders, those giraffe.

Pandas could take a lesson or two from those guys.

And here's me and Monkey Boy with the lionesseseses.
Nice kitty.

Here we are with one of the Meerkats.
I think this one was put on guard duty.

If you want to see a quick movie of some Meerkat frolics, click on this linky thing.

I hate it when they come out all blurry.
We were trying to pose with the Rock Wallaby.
Thats him up in the top corner, that brown blurry splodge.
Well you get the idea...

And here's the whole family at the end of the day.


YAY for the Birthday Expetition!

Meow meow meow Missy Missy meow meow!

3 people will get the title joke. I dont care. Its funny to me.

Yes, its that time of the month where I'm pissed off with everything and yell at the TV even more than usual. My lack of cheeriness is not helped by the fact that it has been below 10 degrees (C) for the last week and will continue to be so for the forseeable forever. Its raining so I cant even go outside. Poopy poopersons.

Sidebar: You Northern Hemisphere poopheads can kindly refrain from telling me how much crapper and colder your winters are. I know this. That is why I choose to stay here. Where it is SUPPOSED to be WARM.


This is the view out of my study window.


Wetness. Barrenness. How fitting.

Its my birthday in 22 days (I had to check the ticker) and alls I'll be doing is...hmmm...watching Australian Idol probably. No birthday presents for me since Barren Bitches Clinic will be the recipients of every single cent we have for the rest of my "reproductive" years. No dinner out. Meh. Not that I'm a huge birthday person anyway, but, y'know, it would be nice to do something, um, nice.

My brother arrives in town that day, which my mother announced to me saying "I knew you'd be pleased." Unfortunately, she did not say it with sarcasm dripping from every pore, as was necessary for this to be an accurate statement of my emotional condition at hearing this news.

Said brother is a lot older than me. Said brother is a Born Again Christian. And a cop. As would be apparent from previous posts, I'm not. (A BAC, not cop. Well, I'm not a cop either. I've spent a lot of time trying to avoid them.) Said brother makes it very clear (whether intentionally or not, I've yet to work out) that he thinks I have always been and will always be a failure. Comments like "tarred with the same brush" when talking about me and his 22 year old (also deemed failure) daughter have not helped cement our relationship. Monkey Boy wants to smuck him with The Fish. I want to let him.

Given all the crap that has happened with Daddy-O recently, I'm going to have to go down and see this brother of mine. You know, have the conversation about how to keep the Olds in line, etc. In this same week, The Monkey FINALLY gets to see someone about having an MRI done on his buggered shoulder, we have our first proper IVF appointment, Daddy-O has his first assessment with a Geriatician and Monkey starts 2nd semester at Uni.

Not a lot of time for happy birthdays.

Oh yeh, and last birthday...I conceived.


Just a thought: If a Geriatician is an Old Dudes doctor, would a Geriatrician be a doctor who helps old people die?

Good grief I'm a whiney morose poophead today.

ooooh, look! A pretty thing:

Other Ways In Which I Rock

Okay, in the style of a true narcissist, a list of why I am cool (mostly to keep reminding myself)...

1. I ALWAYS know which way is North.
2. I can usually guess the time to within 15 minutes.
3. I am 5 degrees separated from Kevin Bacon (see this post for my other famous connections)
4. I have just discovered a talent for writing in Haiku.
5. I gave up smoking 3 years ago and havent had a puff since.
6. I also gave up a lot of other things that I havent since touched in the last 3 years.
7. I can touch the tip of my nose with my tongue.
8. I went back to school when I was 21, starting with Year 10 science & math and finished high school 6 years later with an almost perfect score.
9. I ran 100m in 12pointsomething seconds when I was in Grade 7.
10. I'm quite a good photographer, actually.
11. I can sew. I just choose not to.
12. I can fix cars. I just choose not to.
13. I'm REALLY good at law. Dont piss me off. You wont win.
14. My first impression of people is always the correct one.
15. I'm usually right about what is wrong with my own body, so I don't know why doctors don't listen to me in the first place.
16. I independantly invented the internal combustion engine. I was very disappointed when I was told it had already been done.
17. I'm REALLY good at Philosophical arguments. See 13 above.
18. I have been adopted by 17 kitties in my life so far.
19. I'm accepting of people's foibles. To a point.
20. I'm a really good cook. I just dont do the baking thing.

Well, 20 things is a good start. I hope to be able to add to this list...*scratches head*...one day.