A new friend!

A couple weeks ago I saw an add on Freecycle asking for a double or single bed. I didn’t think much of it and didn’t even think about the spare bed that hasn’t been used for months.

Then last week I finally clicked on and discussed it with Tim. We don’t need such a big bed, we’ll give this one away and get a single bed for the spare bedroom.

So I offered it to this person not knowing that it was going to change my life!

She replied that it would be great if she could have our bed. I gave her my address and she replied again that she had JUST moved and was living just around the corner from me.

Well little did SHE know that she was in fact living directly across the road from me, in a house that friends of ours JUST moved out of. Tim and I watched as she moved in last weekend!

Anyway I got invited over to meet her and her family. She has four kids and was having a birthday party for one of her son’s today.

When I got there, I was so excited to find out that the birthday party was for her youngest son Couper…who just turned ONE!

How amazing is that?? Jaxon just turned one three weeks ago. I am pretty excited about this. A friend for me AND a friend for Jaxon! Not only does she have Couper who is one, but a daughter who is 2, another who is 3 and a five year old son!

Usually I would run a mile from someone who had four kids. I mean I struggle with ONE child and all of the kids I do know are little terrors. But her kids are so well behaved and nice!

This is a great day in my life.

You DID WHAT???

Last week I forgot my pill.

I told Tim in the morning “I forgot my pill last night” and he turned around and said “Are you fucking joking?” Like I had crashed the car or accidentally chopped off a finger or something.

This pissed me off a little. I’ve been taking the pill for one year now. I’ve forgotten twice. Last Saturday night/Sunday and once when I was in hospital at the paediatrics ward when Jaxon was 4 months old getting poked and prodded.

So who else is with me when I say that if MEN had to be in charge of contraception for 365 days of every single year, and remember to take a single pill once a day (at the same time no less)…that we’d all have ten kids AND be bare foot and pregnant????

When I pointed this out to him he said he was sorry, but that he had BIG plans for me that night and now it was all ruined.

Well…condom’s ever ring a bell???

Needless to say, his big plans fell through. Because it was likely he thought it was TOO HARD to remember to put a condom on!!!

(sorry Tim, you know I love you!)

Would it be THAT bad????

I am craving SO bad today! Hmm. What day is it? It’s day five I think. So in my mind I keep thinking “I don’t want to swallow” and then a few seconds later I think “It wouldn’t be that bad”

Man I must be crazy. Am I out of my mind????

No need to answer that for me.

I know the answer is yes, completely out of my mind.

The Bet

As many may or may not know, Tim and I are smoker’s.

I started smoking not long after I met Tim. I was 25 years old. Simply put, the worst ever thing I ever did. I’ve been trying to quit ever since and was only slightly successful when I was pregnant with Jaxon. I say this because not less than two days after Jaxon was born I was back on the fags.

But seriously, I think it wouldn’t be unfair to say that we have “tried” to quit more than 30 time’s in the last five years. Some attempts came very close to being successful…only to be ruined by silly things. Like a MIL visit 5 days into our attempt (she smokes) or a new born baby back in hospital being poked and prodded.

This time we’re aproaching quitting with a different tactic. We have a bet. A bet that just might help us kick the habbit!

Here it is. Might I first say, if you are squirmy…or you don’t know me and know that I spare no detail’s…you should maybe look away. This is X-Rated shit!

So the deal is that neither of us is allowed to tell the other how much we would LOVE a smoke. We find that this is what make’s us weak. If Tim tell’s me he’s dying for a fag when I’m doing really well then all he’s done is remind me how much I would really like one, and vice versa.

The next part of the deal is that for the first fortnight that we successfully quit, Tim can spend the money that we have saved (OMG I can’t believe I am about to tell you this…$150 every two weeks!!!!!!) on anything that he like’s. In the second fortnight I can spend it on anything that I want. And from then on in it is to be saved.

On top of that, we have other BIG things riding on our quitting.

IF it is Tim who cracks and buys smokes first then he must do ALL of the washing in the house for an entire month. Clothes, towel’s, sheet’s…everything. From go to woe as well. He must collect it, move it to the laundry, seperate colours, wash, hang out, bring in and fold AND put it all away. For one month.

IF it is I who cracks and buys smoke’s first then…hmmmmmm. Look away now. I must give Tim three head job’s PER week for an entire month. AND I MUST SWALLOW!!!

Is anyone else with me when I say that I AM NOT EVER GOING TO SMOKE ANOTHER SMOKE????

Last time I attempted to swallow I literally threw up ALL over Tim. And I’ve never gone back for seconds either!

I love this bet. I love this deal. It’s day one of our quitting attempt and every time I’ve thought that I wanted a smoke I’ve also thought “no, if I have a smoke I have to swallow. I don’t want to swallow…I don’t want a smoke”

Of course this is day one. They say it takes three week’s to break a habbit. Ask me how it’s all going in three weeks.

The MANY level’s of Baby Proofing!

I think I am in stage four of baby proofing my house.

Baby Proofing started off when Jaxon was just an itty bitty baby. Maybe he was 5 months old.

My baby proofing level back then was LEVEL ONE. An easy level which required minimal maintenance.

Level One baby Proofing meant that just one meter of space surrounding Jaxon HAD to be baby proofed. After all, he was not rolling, crawling or walking. Anything that was an absolute NO NO for baby was simply tossed aside.

But this level didn’t last long. Soon Jaxon learnt to roll, and then learnt that rolling was in fact a clever way of getting to those objects that once just sat there teasing his immobile body.

So came LEVEL TWO Baby Proofing.

Level Two Baby Proofing is much like Level One, just a little bit more work was involved. Since Jaxon now knew how to roll remote control’s had to be put UP off the floor. A few electrical cords got taped to the wall. In many cases, simply putting large item’s in his way was enough to keep the house safe.

But Level Two didn’t last long either. Now the item’s that Jaxon had spent hours and hours laying on his back watching and wondering about were now accessable. A few roll’s this way, a twist here and there and they were now within reach. Dog food and water comes to mind!

And so came LEVEL THREE Baby Proofing.

This involved quite a bit of construction on Mummy and Daddy’s part. A good part of New Years Day was spent building baby gates. These gates made me sane. I no longer had to wonder why Jaxon had gone quite, and why Mexxi NEVER had water or food. The kitchen became out of bounds, because we heard somewhere on the grape vine that hot stoves and babies just don’t mix well.

Another good thing about Level Three baby Proofing was that things we didn’t want Jaxon to get into or chew simply had to be put on the couch, or the coffee table. He couldn’t get to them. He could only look at them and wonder HOW he could get to them.

This level, thankfully, lasted at least 3 weeks. Right up until Nanny and Poppy taught Jaxon how to CLIMB stairs! It would appear that although WE don’t have stairs, other objects are just as much fun to conqure!

Hence why I am now faced with having to move in to LEVEL FOUR Baby Proofing.

Level Four is getting much more advanced. Now the coffee table is NOT a safe place to put my open can of drink. I learnt that one the hard way. And the couch is NOT a safe place to leave the remote control’s. I’ve also considered just getting a big ass dog chain to put around my neck in place of my normal necklace, since Jaxon think’s that the necklace is the perfect item on my body to get leaverage to pull himself up!

I have to find a new home for the fire poker’s, the free standing lamp and the pedistool fan in Jaxon’s room’s. Let’s not forget to chock open ALL door’s, for Jaxon might think that opening and slamming shut a door for hours on end be FUN FUN FUN!

So level Four I am stuck on. I shall spend the better part of my Sunday making sure that Jaxon can not piss me off by breaking something that was once out of his reach. Or spilling my RED soft drink all over my brand new rug!

I’ll also be having a word to Daddy, about the small item’s of crap that he tend’s to leave lying around on the coffee table, since it’s dangerous to leave them on the floor these days.

I suspect that Level Five and Six baby Proofing will involve the kitchen table and the DVD player. I had a brief preview of them tonight when Jack, who is now walking…pulled the face off of our DVD player (our two week old, brand spanking new DVD player) and nearly got my BCP from the very edge of the kitchen table.

I dread to think what Level’s Seven through Twenty will entail. Tim suggested gaffer taping Jaxon’s hands together and getting him a baby ball gag as a baby proofing measure.

I just don’t know if we would get away with that…especially since now I’ve told YOU about it!

The MANY level's of Baby Proofing!

I think I am in stage four of baby proofing my house.

Baby Proofing started off when Jaxon was just an itty bitty baby. Maybe he was 5 months old.

My baby proofing level back then was LEVEL ONE. An easy level which required minimal maintenance.

Level One baby Proofing meant that just one meter of space surrounding Jaxon HAD to be baby proofed. After all, he was not rolling, crawling or walking. Anything that was an absolute NO NO for baby was simply tossed aside.

But this level didn’t last long. Soon Jaxon learnt to roll, and then learnt that rolling was in fact a clever way of getting to those objects that once just sat there teasing his immobile body.

So came LEVEL TWO Baby Proofing.

Level Two Baby Proofing is much like Level One, just a little bit more work was involved. Since Jaxon now knew how to roll remote control’s had to be put UP off the floor. A few electrical cords got taped to the wall. In many cases, simply putting large item’s in his way was enough to keep the house safe.

But Level Two didn’t last long either. Now the item’s that Jaxon had spent hours and hours laying on his back watching and wondering about were now accessable. A few roll’s this way, a twist here and there and they were now within reach. Dog food and water comes to mind!

And so came LEVEL THREE Baby Proofing.

This involved quite a bit of construction on Mummy and Daddy’s part. A good part of New Years Day was spent building baby gates. These gates made me sane. I no longer had to wonder why Jaxon had gone quite, and why Mexxi NEVER had water or food. The kitchen became out of bounds, because we heard somewhere on the grape vine that hot stoves and babies just don’t mix well.

Another good thing about Level Three baby Proofing was that things we didn’t want Jaxon to get into or chew simply had to be put on the couch, or the coffee table. He couldn’t get to them. He could only look at them and wonder HOW he could get to them.

This level, thankfully, lasted at least 3 weeks. Right up until Nanny and Poppy taught Jaxon how to CLIMB stairs! It would appear that although WE don’t have stairs, other objects are just as much fun to conqure!

Hence why I am now faced with having to move in to LEVEL FOUR Baby Proofing.

Level Four is getting much more advanced. Now the coffee table is NOT a safe place to put my open can of drink. I learnt that one the hard way. And the couch is NOT a safe place to leave the remote control’s. I’ve also considered just getting a big ass dog chain to put around my neck in place of my normal necklace, since Jaxon think’s that the necklace is the perfect item on my body to get leaverage to pull himself up!

I have to find a new home for the fire poker’s, the free standing lamp and the pedistool fan in Jaxon’s room’s. Let’s not forget to chock open ALL door’s, for Jaxon might think that opening and slamming shut a door for hours on end be FUN FUN FUN!

So level Four I am stuck on. I shall spend the better part of my Sunday making sure that Jaxon can not piss me off by breaking something that was once out of his reach. Or spilling my RED soft drink all over my brand new rug!

I’ll also be having a word to Daddy, about the small item’s of crap that he tend’s to leave lying around on the coffee table, since it’s dangerous to leave them on the floor these days.

I suspect that Level Five and Six baby Proofing will involve the kitchen table and the DVD player. I had a brief preview of them tonight when Jack, who is now walking…pulled the face off of our DVD player (our two week old, brand spanking new DVD player) and nearly got my BCP from the very edge of the kitchen table.

I dread to think what Level’s Seven through Twenty will entail. Tim suggested gaffer taping Jaxon’s hands together and getting him a baby ball gag as a baby proofing measure.

I just don’t know if we would get away with that…especially since now I’ve told YOU about it!

No cake for you!

I just don’t think Jaxon is meant to have a 1st birthday cake!

I made two cakes tonight plus 4 cup cakes.

I happened to be feeding Jaxon while they were in the oven. So I’m sitting there waiting for captain “take my sweet time eating” Jaxon to drink his bottle…while calling out to Tim every five minutes to check the cakes.

WELL!!

In between his last check and the final check the top cake burnt! That was sort of *ok* because I am going to cut the top off of it anyway and use it up the other way. So I don’t stress about it.

But when I go to take it out of the “tin”…which isn’t a tin because it’s one of those stupid a$$ silicone things that are so SH!T it’s not funny…the top breaks off of it.
So now I have no base for my cow.

That’s ok says I. I’ll make another one.

Except I have no more self raising flour left and it’s 9pm at night. Now there are dissadvantages to living in a small town, one of them being that everything closes early. I’m cruising around from petrol station to petrol station hoping that just one of them will sell SF flour.

But no. It seems that no one cook’s enough cake’s these days to warrant a place on the shelf in your local petrol station. OR…people who DO make cake’s plan well enough ahead that they don’t run out of ingredient’s at 10pm at night!

As I said, it just look’s like Jaxon is not meant to have a cake for his first birthday!

Stage Three – Tim and Boo, the Beginning

I’ve decided to jump a few years ahead of myself here and tell you how Tim and I met. It’s much easier than telling you about my depression and suicidal tendencies.

Wow. It turns out this is hard to write too. Not because it’s a hard subject but because I want it to be prefect!

On a dark and stormy night, way back in August of 2002, I got lost and was running low on fuel.

Except I wasn’t really lost. I just didn’t know the name of the street I was on. I knew where it lead and I knew I was on the right track. I just need to put that in here because my Mum would read it and say “same old Boo” meaning that I could get lost in a paper bag. Which is true, but another story for another day.

I pulled in to the last petrol station before the freeway. I put my petrol in and went inside.

There I paid my $10 and the guy behind the counter asked me how I was. Well, I was ok. So I told him that. I told him that except  for the raining drive I had to get home, I was all good.

He pointed behind me to a motor bike and asked me how I thought he felt having to drive to the other side of town on his bike.

So if you’d known me all those years ago you’d probably know that I don’t like motor bikes. It might have something to do with my Dad always telling my brother and I that if we ever got a motor bike or tattoo then he would kick us out. I don’t know…but we both have tattoo’s!

So I told him just how against motor bikes I was. I didn’t count on him arguing with me though.

“Ahh, but have you ever been on a bike?” he asked. Well no. I haven’t I said. But…

“Ahhh-ha!! Then you don’t know what you’re missing out on”

Yes, but they’re so dangerous! And back and forth and back and forth…until three minutes later he’d told me to come back at that time the following week and he would take me for a ride. For a full week I didn’t think about him again.

The following week, by pure chance of course, I ended up back at his petrol station. Seriously, that things happen for a reason bull shit I keep telling you I believe so much in??? Well it was never more true of this night.

It wasn’t like I was lost or anything. Really. I knew exactly where I was and where I needed to go to get home. As I drove down that same street I hadn’t thought about for a week and all of a sudden over the hill comes that petrol station I made a split second decision to go on in and see if he’d remembered.

He had. He had a helmet for me. He had a jacket for me. Luckily I’d lost some weight so I actually fit in to that jacket!

Just before we left, I wrote my ex-boyfriend (whom I am still very good friends with) a text message saying “I’m just about to do something stupid with someone who claims his name is Tim. I don’t know him from a bar of soap. If I don’t call you tomorrow by lunch time, my car is at this petrol station and my will is in the bottom drawer”

So we jumped on the bike and set off at one am in the morning.

WOW.

I think I loved Tim before that first part of the ride was over. Obviously he couldn’t have said anything to me that would make that happen. But he could and did put his hand across mine on his tummy. He just kept it there and kept patting my hand to make sure I was ok.

I had never been better. I was loving the ride.

We stopped at the Crown Casino for a coffee. Or a coke in my case since I don’t drink coffee. It was three am by then and we sat there talking for hours and hours. It was freezing cold, yet we sat there by the river under the sporadic bursts of warm flames by the river chatting about nothing and everything all night long.

At eight am we rode back in to the petrol station and we parted ways. When I got home that morning I told my house mate that I had met the man I was going to marry. She laughed at me, but I don’t think she is laughing now.

Seven days later I went and spent the weekend with Tim. It was nearly a two hour drive between our houses so it was easier that way. I don’t think I ever really left. Three weeks later we made it official with all of my stuff (cat included) making the journey across town as well.

There are just a few silly things I’d like to put here. Because recently I had a chat with a very old school friend who was unsure if the man she is with is THE one. And there are things that happened in those first few weeks that were so different to any other relationship that I just KNEW Tim was it. I could stop looking because what I was looking for was standing right in front of me.

I think we’d been going out for about two weeks. I’d only just moved in. Tim went up to the back of the house and when he returned I gave him a hug in the hall way. I hadn’t planned on saying anything. I don’t know why it came out or where it came from. But I put my arms around his neck and I told him that he was the one. Keeping in mind that we’d only known each other for 2 weeks so Tim really should have run a mile. But he didn’t. He looked right back at me and he let me know that he felt that way too.

Then, not too long after that Tim was in the shower. I’m pretty sure that we’d just had sex for the first or second time (yes, I made him wait three or four weeks) because I was getting dried off as well. But the steam had fogged up the screen and I wrote in the steam…I love you. I wasn’t scared to say it. It didn’t feel like it was too soon and I should just wait until he said it or if I should ask my girl friends if they thought it was too soon and blah blah blah. I wanted to say it because I felt it. So I said it. And he immediately wrote it back to me.

Now, I’ve had a few serious relationships but the one that went by the way a year or two before I met Tim? If I had said anything like that to that man (who is gay by the way…hi Chris) in the first year he would have started crying because it was just all too soon!

We’ve never ever looked back. A few months later, watching a movie, one of us (and I really do forget now who it was, because it was a mutual question) took the pull ring off the coke can we were holding and asked “If I gave you this ring would you marry me?”

We got married one day before our one year anniversary. I never did get a proper engagement ring, but that pull ring is still in a safe spot.

This isn’t perfect. I will rewrite it one day.

This is Tim and I not long after we met. In the petrol station that we met in.

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You probably don’t want to see the other photo’s we took with this camera ;)

About Me, Stage Two

Stage Two. Or in other words,  late 1997 until 2002.

It’s a very hard time to write about. But I want to. You’ll just have to bare with me while I get it all out right.

There are things about me that you don’t know. And they’re  hard to jump right out and say without feeling somewhat ashamed.

But the thing is, I’m not ashamed.

Just embarrassed.

So I’m just gonna say it here, right now. And then I’ll probably leave it at that for a little while. Until I get over it.

I’m a self harmer. Or cutter.

And I’ve tried to commit suicide. Twice.

I’ll be back sooner or later to put it all down here in writing. Once I’ve done that, you’ll be on your way to discovering Boo.

These years were hard, really hard. But they’re a part of who I am and leaving them out would be cheating myself.

Attempt two

I’m calling this time 1997 to 2002 but really it all started a lot earlier than that.

When Terry died I guess I was in denial about it all for a very long time. Not that he had died. But that I needed help.

Depression is a funny thing. It’s so obvious from the outside but it’s one of the easiest things to lie about. How are you? I’m fine thanks, how are you?

We’re programmed from birth to act a certain way, say certain things in response to others. To give stock standard answer’s even if they’re not the truth.

I wasn’t fine. I really needed help. But the funny thing is that when I say it’s the easiest thing to lie about? It’s the easiest thing to lie to yourself about.

While people in my life kept telling me I needed help and I needed to do something about “it” I kept telling myself that I was fine. I kept telling myself that no one could help me and that talking about it just wouldn’t help.

So for five years after Terry died, I broke.

That really is the easiest way to describe the way my life went in those few years.

And thats about as far as I am going to get right about now.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not all crushed and crying because this is painful, it’s really not. It’s therapeutic to get it out. But the creative juices stopped flowing at about 11.30pm and it’s now 11.55 and I wont get anywhere further than this tonight.

About Boo, Stage One.

So.

About me.

Well.

I was born in 1977. In Carlton, Melbourne…Australia. To my international friends…that’s down the bottom end.

I was born with blonde hair and blue eyes and though I didn’t have them when I was born, I would slowly develop lot’s and lot’s of freckles. But let’s not talk too much about the freckles. I don’t like them much so I’m thankful that I got so many of them they just grew in to a nice tan.

When I was 7 or so my parents took my brother and I on a holiday to a place on the Murray River in South Australia called Hogs Wash. It was one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. One day, a bush walker past by and he started a conversation with us all. At one point, he looked down at me with my freckles and he said “Did a cow fart on your face?” So as I say, I don’t like my freckles too much…lets not talk about them anymore.

Camping was a huge part of our lives growing up. I think some of my best memories come from the times when my parents took my brother Terry and I out of school and went trekking somewhere. We’d put the dog Bitsy in a home and we’d just go. Of course, that’s how it was for me. We “just went.” But now that I’m a mother myself I know that when you have kids…”just going” is something other people do, not what parents do. Now I know that for my parents there was probably weeks and weeks of planning and packing. Lists for this, budgets for that. Man. I had it easy growing up.

That’s a lie in it’s own way, but really it’s not. I did have it easy. I had a loving mother, a father who was home (if not, “there” all the time, he was at least home) and a I had a wonderful brother. Through primary school was hard for me, I still enjoyed school. I was diagnosed with dyslexia when I was in grade two. I didn’t know how to read at all back then and really I should have. I got taken out of regular classes to learn. The first book I read by myself, was The Enchanted Forrest by Enid Blyton. I was 13.

I excelled in all of the creative classes and though it’s not so obvious now, I was quite the sporty type way back then. I did cross country running on weekends, gymnastics on weeknights and swimming. I loved my BMX bike, climbing tree’s and playing football. Doll’s and I never got along.

My two best friends were both boys growing up. Daniel and Marcus. Brothers. Daniel was a year older than me and Marcus was a year younger. We camped together, fished together, went to the pool together…did all sorts of naughty things together. No, not that. But collecting their bull terrier’s poo to make shit bombs for the neighbors was not beyond us. We grew apart when we went to different schools, but if they called me right now and needed help…I’d so be there for them. They saved my life once, and they don’t even know it. And it’s not something I’m going to put here except to say that dirty old men should know better than to fuck with innocent little girls.

High School was hard. Not for the learning because once I could read I excelled. But the teasing and bullying was tough. I’ve writen about that here before so I wont go in to it again.

As a younger kid I knew I wanted to work with animals. That’s all there was to life as far as I was concerned. I wanted to be a vet, but little did I know I wasn’t THAT smart. But I did all of the subjects I needed to do to get there. Biology, Chemistry, English, Maths. And then I did arts as well. Chemistry wasn’t my thing but the other subjects I was an A grade student. I took part in school plays, I sang in bands. I was the President of the Student Representative Council for five years.

I granduated Year 12 in 1995. That was the same year that Bitsy died too. It was a hard year but not the hardest. I didn’t get the grades I needed and the next best thing was becoming either a Vet Nurse, or an Animal technician. I’ve never really wanted to be a Vet Nurse, so off to school I went to be an Animal technician.

I wasn’t sure about it. But within months of starting the course I had a job at a labratory looking after lab animals and I loved it. I worked at a major University in Melbourne, breeding mice, rats, rabbits, dogs, cats, pigs, guniea pigs and frogs for reseach.  I was responsible for bringing and raising the first successful breeding colony of Tree Shrews in to Australia from the UK in 1999. I loved working with animals and yes, I killed them too.

You can either hate me for this or thank me for this. I always just thought that it was going to get done, so those animals might as well have someone who loved them and respected them as much as I did to look after them while it happened. And if you’ve ever had a family member or friend who needed medicine to stay alive, or a medical procedure done to save their lives…just remember it’s all practiced on the animals. Like it or not.

Eleven years ago, I was camping on the Murray River with two school friends. We’d been out of high school for a year or two by then and I was beginning to appreciate the things I did have in life because some of the things I took for granted had slipped away. Like having parents that were still married.

I remember the day I came home and found Dad crying because Mum had decided to leave. I remember mostly that on my way home from Uni that day I had been thinking how wonderful they were and how I should just tell them how much I appreciated them for being my parents. How much I loved them and how good it was to know they were always there for me. But when I got home, it was all gone.

And as I was saying, 11 years ago I sat on the banks of the Murray with those two friends and we all told each other what we loved about our lives. I remember that the things I was grateful for was my Mum and Dad, even though now they were not together. I had the best brother ever, we were so incredibly close. My friends, were the best you could ever have. My dogs were my life and I was in school and working part time for a job that I knew I was going to love.

The next day I went in to town to meet my Dad and my brother. When I couldn’t find them, I called them. My Dad didn’t sound quite right. He sounded winded, for want of a better word. When I asked him what was wrong he struggled to tell me that my brother Terry had been killed in a car accident that morning. He was 24.

So that’s a story all on it’s own.

My brother Terry.

He was 4 years older than me. He’s in two of my earliest memories of life. I remember him looking over the cot rail’s at me. I don’t know why I remember that but I do. Then when I nearly drowned at age 4 because my Dad fell off a cliff looking for cuttlefish but finding big snakes…I know that Terry and I had been walking through the waves together with no shoes on. Let’s see. Other memories. Terry once half ate a banana until it was all squishy and then shoved it in to my mouth. He held my mouth shut and he forced me to swallow. He used to spit in our coke so that it was all his. He used to walk really fast and I’d have to half run to keep up with him. He was the kind of brother who would beat his little sister up but a second later would run bare feet over broken glass to protect her from school bullies.

He liked to say to me “Don’t say I don’t look after you kid” and I never did, because he always looked after me. He was my best friend. My best enemy. I have a diary entry that I will eventually put here for you to read. It explains so much better than *I* can now what he was to me.

His life ended at 2.30am on the 13th of December in 1997. In a way, my life ended that day too. But that was eleven years ago now.

They say time heals all and that’s not true. But time allows for other things to happen. Things that eventually take up memory space that otherwise would have been filled with the hurt and pain of losing one of the most important people in your life. Time allows you to call up older, happier memories of them without bringing with it the hurt that they are gone and can’t come back.

Eat, please eat.

I just found this as a Diary entry in some of my old word documents. Along with quite a few things from this time. So I decided, that this would be helpful to have here forever.

JJ’s feedings all day today and all of yesterday have been so difficult. I have to remain calm “they” tell me…and that’s almost impossible. I mean they tell me “We’re worried about his weight” (since he’s below the 3rd% and dropping steadily) and then in the next sentence tell us he has to have 700 mil a day. Well that’s all good and well except JJ eats really well right up until he hits exactly 75 mil a feed. He sucks well, he concentrates, he doesn’t spill a drop…and then he cries, twists and turns his head, flips his legs up and twists upside down in your lap, pull’s his arm up in front of his mouth spits it in my face, vomits, coughs and splatters…bends his body right back, closes his mouth and pushes the bottle out with his tongue then wont let it back in. Anything a baby could possibly do to not eat, he does. He even started just having the bottle in his mouth and PRETENDING to suck the other day. I sat there for an hour and thought wow this is a great feed only to take the bottle out and he’d had nothing!!! So 75 mil a feed, multiply that by 5, he’s only wanting to eat 375mil a day. So they want us to FORCE a bloody baby to eat 150 a feed. Tell me, how do you make a baby suck? You can’t.

It’s just getting frustrating. Our appointment with the paediatrician is on the 18th. That means I have 85 difficult feeds ahead of me. And I am telling you, if we get there and he comments on his weight and then tell’s us JJ is just a “fussy” f*^king eater I am going to hit the roof. And it’s sad that I feel I have to take Tim along just so all of these issues can’t be blamed on PND, which in my opinion wouldn’t exist if we weren’t constantly reminded that JJ was not gaining weight properly and we “HAVE” to “MAKE” him eat more…but sorry, there is nothing wrong, it’s all in your head, some babies are just fussy, you should try feeding him in the dark, on your other arm, make the milk warmer, don’t wake him up…upside down with your hand stuck up your a$$…that might work!?

Can you tell I have had enough? And not to mention that we get lectured about not having his shoes on ALL the time. Just once we’d love to hear “You’re doing a great job, everything’s on track and JJ’s a healthy young boy” is that too much to ask??? I just for once in my life would like someone to say “Something is not right here. Let ME help you” and get REAL help!

Break Down and Beyond

I found this, as a letter to some on line friends in some of my old word documents. I really think this will be good to have here. Some times, Jaxon is going to hear things I have said or things that I have felt in the past. And perhaps getting to read the actual story of what it felt like to go through all of this with him will help him see, it’s not his fault. Or mine.

So here’s my story, from me…not through SMS which can be a bit hard to get all detail into. This might get long, but you expect that from me.

When I first broke down, everyone kept telling me I should go to this place called Riverton. They said it would help me, that doctors and pediatricians would “sort out JJ’s problems.” I was under the impression that they would actually solve the problem, or try to anyway.

So we show up at Riverton. It’s a wonderful and beautiful place. It’s not a hospital, although there are nurses there 24 hours a day 7 days a week. Picture it more like a 3 star hotel. I had my own bedroom and bathroom, JJ had a room with a cot in it off mine. There are three lounge rooms, a huge kitchen for everyone and amazing court yards outside your room. They have play rooms for the kiddies as well as an outdoor play area with sand pit and swing’s etc. There are twenty other rooms, each the same as mine, each with a struggling family in it. You get assigned your own nurse each shift, 3 for each day. The facility is brand new although they had been in their old building for more than 25 years. It had only been open for two weeks when I got there and they had spent 10 million on it so you can imagine it had the best of everything.

When we first got there and filed through mountains of paper work, we got taken to our room. Our nurse came in and asked hundred’s of questions…including “what do you hope to get from your stay here?” We answered we needed help with feeding and sleep. And if the crying should happen to start up at any point, I’d need coping strategies to deal with it and not just have a nervous breakdown again.

We spoke about my stay in hospital, which also helped us to find the first problem. The nurses in hospital had nursed Jaxon to sleep for the entire stay. While he wasn’t sleeping before we went in there, he did start to for them. But really, only because when each nurse got tired they had 10 other nurses to hand him off to. But when I got home for that short time when Maddy died I couldn’t do it. He would ONLY sleep if he was being held and if I put him down he would wake within 5 minutes. So the nurse told us about “sleep associations” This means that JJ had come to associate being nursed with sleeping and that without being nursed, he wouldn’t KNOW how to sleep alone. So that was our first task. We had to break his old habit and form new sleep associations. It took about a day to change his associations. Now when he goes to sleep I take him to his cot, wrap him up, put his dummy in, stroke his forehead for a minute and then walk out and turn the lights off. For the first day he cried like you wouldn’t believe. But the nurse stayed with us and told us when to go in and when to leave him be and see what he was going to do. Sometimes he was just making fussy noises; if we left him he would fall asleep. Sometimes he would be wailing and she would make us go in, comfort him and leave when he settled. After that initial day, once Jaxon learnt what the “sleep routine” was…I would put him down awake and leave the room and he wouldn’t make a sound. He would just nod off to sleep…AND stay asleep until his next feed.

The next issue we found was that I was keeping him awake too long. I thought he was meant to feed and THEN have 1.5 hours or so to play and be merry. But in fact, they told me…he is meant to feed AND play all in about 1.5 hours. At about 1 hour I should start looking for his tired signs and put him down as soon as I see them. So we worked on that and since then Jaxon barely cries at all. Before we went there Jaxon wasn’t sleeping at all during the day and was crying most of the day until about 11pm. If I complained to Mum that I couldn’t get anything done or that *I* couldn’t sleep she would say “Some babies just don’t sleep. You’ll have to deal with it” but the nurses said that’s not true. You CAN expect babies to sleep, that’s when they do the most growing and they need it just as much as a good feed.

Then came sorting out his feeding. We were only meant to stay for one week. And by Wednesday all of our problems had been solved. Jaxon wasn’t crying, was happily going down for a 2.5 hour nap without complaining or needing to be held and I was starting to feel confident that going home was going to be ok. He had eaten like a champ on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Come Thursday though he stopped eating. Well not stopped eating, but he would get to 50 mil (60 mil is 2 oz) and then he would start crying and kicking and screaming. I lost my confidence. I was SO SO MAD at him for being a little angel for those first few days and then becoming his normal difficult self just a day before I had to go home. I was angry that I had had three days to GET help with feeding but didn’t need it, and then when I was just a day from having to go home and wouldn’t have help he started up again. So I asked to stay another week. They saw my anger and frustration, and after having thoughts about drowning Jaxon they didn’t want to send me home feeling like that. Well, I am home now and I guess his “fussy” feeding hasn’t been helped. But they did give me some good tips on how to get him to take more (give him 45 minutes to eat, stop mid way to re-heat the bottle change his nappy and have a 5 minute break. If at the end of 45 minutes he has only had so much but not enough then I’ve tried my best and that’s all I can do) and how to remain calm while he is going off his head.

As for the constant crying we dealt with. Obviously unless they saw it they couldn’t give us answers. And Jaxon only cried that inconsolable cry for 6 hours once. So our theory is that he was getting to 75 mil in a feed and then starting to fuss the way he does now and we would say “he’s had enough” and stop feeding him. But he needed to be eating more (about 150 mil) so he was always hungry. Because he was always hungry he couldn’t sleep well. A big vicious cycle that we had started without knowing it. We do need to find out why he gets to that magical 75 mil and starts getting upset.

They held classes every day about feeding, settling and sleep patterns (a babies sleep cycle is only 20 minutes, and they haven’t learnt to “roll over and go back to sleep” like we have. So when they wake up 20-30 minutes after you’ve put them down leave them and let them learn how to put themselves back to sleep…unless they full out cry for you to help them) dealing with stress, supporting your partner, play groups, nutrition, baby massage, dealing with changes after a baby, relaxation and all sorts of other classes. Although Jaxon was always asleep for the set play group times, I got to go along and watch how other mother’s interacted with their babies (since I’m a bit of a dud when it comes to that!)

So Riverton turned out to be nothing like I was expecting. But I also left there with MUCH more than I expected to leave with. Jaxon has his feeds at 6am, 10am, 2pm, 6pm and 10pm. And he has a 2.5 hour nap between each feed and sleeps all night. I have so much time now it’s funny I sit here and wonder what to do next. Mostly I sleep, but housework gets a look in too! Feeding is really difficult and tiring, and Tim can’t do it because you need to stay calm and it is really frustrating when he wont eat. But we bargained that he does some housework while I do feeding so that when I am done with that I don’t have to worry about dishes or washing. I also got to meet other parents struggling. There were two lot’s of twins there the first week getting help to put them on different schedules so Mum’s didn’t have TWO crying babies at the same time. Other Mum’s who had always breast fed their babies to sleep and wanted to stop doing that but the child (two year olds some of them) wouldn’t “let” her. It was really funny once I’d spent the first week there to see the next lot of mother’s coming in all tired and weary and knowing that when they left their problems would be on the way to being solved.

I am so happy now that Jaxon is on a feeding and sleep schedule. He doesn’t cry anymore, and if he does it’s usually because he’s ready for a nap. Of course he’s still being a lil rat when it comes to feeding. We have an appointment with the paediatrician in three weeks. We have to get a referral to the physio to look at his right arm, and we’ll talk about other tests to find out what’s going on during feeds. Tomorrow we go to Brisbane to get his tenotomy done I think (I hope not, he’ll be in a cast for three weeks :( ) Oh and Dad gets here tomorrow night too….oh what FUN :S