“Don’t try to fix it. I just need you to listen”

May 28, 2013 by 21 Comments

I cannot tell you how lucky I am to have the husband that I have. He is kind, considerate, compassionate, hugely intelligent and he loves me. He is also the best father I know. Bar none.

Sounds perfect right? It pretty much is but for one small issue. He is very much a male and I am very much a female and at the risk of making the biggest generalisations in the world and some blatantly stereotypical statements this sometimes causes a problem.

You see he wants to solve and I want to talk. He wants to fix and I want to vent. I want someone to listen to my every feeling and he wants to remedy problems.

Typical male typical female?
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Just watch this video and see if you get the same guilty blush that I did.

It made me laugh out loud.

Filed Under: Featured, My Life Tagged With: ,

The one word you probably don’t want your doctor to say when examining you

May 27, 2013 by 6 Comments
This is a pretty fair rendition of what my skin on my forehead looks like at the moment. Yes. I have a fringe to cover it

This is a pretty fair rendition of what my skin on my forehead looks like at the moment. Yes. I have a fringe to cover it

There are some words you never ever want to hear a dermatologist mention. Clearly melanoma and malignant are chief amongst those but allow me to be superficial for a second and add another. Trust me, you never want to hear your dermatologist say “oh it’s only a barnacle” as she examines your skin through a super magnifying lens which she actually puts to the side when she sees your barnacle. Something that big does not need magnification.

Barnacles are found on the bottom of ships. And on whales.

To be fair the barnacle had another much more sophisticated medical term which I can’t even remember now but I’m sure if I were to google it there would be pictures of the bottom of boats. Of whales and of hideous, dehydrated, lumpy, old person skin.

The truth is although “barnacles” are a little bit genetic (my dad has beautiful warm open arms but they look a lot like very weathered boat oars) they are also a “side effect” of age.

As I adjusted to this little snippet of news from the dermatologist she went on to examine the rest of my body, I had a melanoma many years ago and I am fastidious about having my skin checked. A couple of times she stopped to examine something a little closer and invariably she would brush it off with a quick “oh it’s just an age spot”.

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Sometimes I still feel like I’m playing house, often I hear my child call me mommy and I have to remind myself that it’s not my mom he wants – I really am old enough (and then some) to be the mother of a 12 year old.

I am still surprised when I’m not asked for ID and that people don’t gasp when I tell them how long I’ve been married. Or how long I have been out of school.  I am always shocked when I meet a professional person old enough to be my child –  doctors especially. Seriously, how young are doctors these days?

My body is getting older and sometimes my eyes are too – when I see “the youth of today” dressed in pants that hang on the ground – the waist, not the hem, and I will admit to getting irritated by people speaking in gangster talk and stuff but my mind is still very, very young. And I can’t help wondering when I am going to feel older.

When I was a little girl I used to look at my mother and almost admire how old she was. When she had friends over and I was shooed out the room I used to imagine that she was having lofty, intelligent conversations about very important worldly matters.  Now that I am the same age as her I have friends over and we talk about how much weight we’ve put on, we talk about Offspring and where we should eat dinner. We talk about our kids a lot and we laugh at really stupid, immature jokes.  There is nothing lofty or supremely intelligent about our conversations and it leads me to wonder if I just hang with immature people or maybe that’s what my mother WAS talking about. She just seemed so … old and I don’t .

Are barnacles my sign of maturity or does my mind still have a long way to catch up to my skin. Is age a number or a feeling?

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This may sound passive aggressive. It isn’t meant to

May 22, 2013 by 8 Comments

unfriendI am what can be referred to as a sensitive person. With sensitive meaning over the top, ridiculous, analyzing every move that anyone in my general vicinity makes in an effort not to upset anyone.

It’s quite tiring being that sensitive and sadly sensitivity is a great feeder for anxiety.  We all know that anxiety just loves to feed on sensitivity and so my anxiety is fat. Bordering on obese when it comes to the “upsetting other people” basket.

In fact it got a huge big feed the other day when I was browsing around on Facebook. I was on the page of a friend when I happened to glance up at mutual friends and saw something awry. Did I mention that I am painfully observant as well as ridiculously sensitive? Anyhow all my quirks and foibles checked out mutual friends and thought that it was really strange that PWSTHM (Person Who Seems To Hate Me) was not friends with this person.  Odd. Alarm bell ringing odd. So I clicked over to PWSTHM’s page and saw that she has unfriended me!

Old habits die hard and I immediately began to run through all the things that I could have done wrong in my head.  I checked my Facebook page to see if I had posted anything that may be deemed offensive.  But I hadn’t, in fact I hadn’t posted anything at all on my personal Facebook page for days (and I knew that she had only recently unfriended me because I had seen her updates only days earlier).  I wondered if there was something I had said to her in “real life” but then I remembered that I hadn’t spoken to her in real life for about 6 weeks.

It’s one thing when someone that you haven’t seen since high school snubs your friend request, but being unfriended by someone you know, like right now, is a bit of a slap to the face – especially when it seems to come from nowhere. It takes time to unfriend someone – you actually have to make an effort not to like them anymore.  I checked on Instagram and Twitter and she’s unfollowed me there too. How much effort has she put into not liking me? Yes, I could be flattered by the amount of time she has spent on my various social media sites just in the process of unliking me but that feels weird.

However, this viagra buy germany informative store is not a daily based dose, which means you should take once a day only while opting for sexual role on a particular day. Start from a reputable affiliate directory, then click your way cipla cialis italia visit that around. They may be purchasing cialis online expensive but don’t buy cheap supplements. they will not work positvly. For the medicine is similar effective of http://respitecaresa.org/rustic-gallery-helps-respite-cares-kids/ cialis 40 mg, all of the persons are not eligible for purchasing the medicine. This was very bad for sensitive me because I kept wondering WHY she hated me and more importantly for a sensitive person that really needs closure on every aspect of her life there was NOTHING I could do. I can’t very well contact someone who has publicly revoked our friendship and ask her why (plus what if she’s blocked my number?)

I spent quite a few hours being upset about it because I hate the fact that I have so clearly pissed her off and then just like that I advanced on to relief. To be honest I am glad high school is over, I am glad that I don’t have to prove myself to a judgemental clique.  I am glad that there is no one who is not on my side in my Facebook feed.

The whole unfriending thing seems to be so mean, cowardly and immature that if I am friends with “unfrienders” I’d rather not be.

Sorry  PWSTHM I am taking back my power and I am not going to be rattled that you no longer like me (although you will never know and that’s okay with me).

Have you ever unfriended someone on Facebook ? Why? Have you ever been unfriended? How did you feel?

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The post I put off writing

May 6, 2013 by 23 Comments

*takes deep breath before posting*

I’ve never spoken about my anxiety online. It’s a choice I’ve made about what I share.

I choose what I want to put out there and by talking about my anxiety here I am not choosing to open up the extent of my mental health issues – firstly because you don’t have 100 hours to read about them and secondly because I don’t really feel comfortable going there. Sufficeth it to say, just like many hundreds of thousands of people, they are there.

The issues I have had with depression and anxiety have formed a huge part of who I am and for a long and awful time they were all that I was.  Still not going into it here… BUT I have watched so many braver people than I speak about their struggles and today in particular I feel encouraged to share with you some of what my anxiety is like.

I remember with such clarity walking into a party more than 20 years ago with the most incredible pain in my arm. My breathing was shallow and I was quite sure that it was that night I was going to die. Sure of it – there was no way someone could feel as bad as I felt, have the pain that I had, the pounding heart and the inability to swallow let alone breathe and just walk away.  I could picture the commotion I would cause when the ambulance would have to come and collect me and I wondered if I would ever be able to face any of these people again IF I lived. I wondered who of them would come to my funeral and who of them would talk about me with hushed tones and averted eyes.

Turns out I didn’t die that night, it also wasn’t the last time I felt like that.

Also turns out that my hypochondria isn’t part of some complicated Munchhausen’s syndrome. Sometimes I get symptoms that make me believe I am really unwell – fatally so and it’s just anxiety.  I’ve been through all the therapy. Really – all of it and more. Still feeling the stigma EVEN THOUGH I KNOW I SHOULDN’T.

Anxiety is more than just feeling stressed or worried. It often happens without reason, it feels like it can’t be controlled, it doesn’t simply pass – it makes life harder.
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Today I went with my very close friend (and author of The Little Book of Anxiety), Kerri Sackville to the launch of Beyond Blue’s new Anxiety Awareness campaign (she’s helping them to launch the campaign).

This clip says more than I can – it describes almost exactly how I feel when I get panicked or anxious. It also reminds me that I am not my anxiety. It’s brilliant.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PpRo1Gb1FOg&w=560&h=315]

Maybe it describes you? Maybe it describes someone you know?

According to Beyond Blue “In any one year, around 2 million Australian adults have anxiety.” Maybe you should pass this video on to them…

It’s nothing to be ashamed of, even though it’s sometimes not easy to write about.

If you need help please contact your GP or Beyond Blue

Filed Under: My Life

This is what really matters

April 23, 2013 by 4 Comments

Last night I was feeling pretty sorry for myself.  My throat was sore, my ears were in pain and I felt like my glands were the size of melons. I often make excuses for the size of my face but this time I was convinced it was my glands. They were overtaking my face and everything was sore

I climbed into bed after complaining loudly and at length to my husband that I possibly had man flu and it wasn’t fair because we’re going away tomorrow and now I was sick. I planned a big sleep in for today. I was going to pamper myself by sleeping all day and getting rid of this dreaded lurgy.

Then my son woke up.

He usually wakes up and dives straight into his x-box, er I mean into reading the encyclopaedia, but this morning he woke up and complained that his throat was sore. The worst part is that it actually seemed sincere and there was no way I could pretend it wasn’t happening.

So I readjusted the day in my head. If my son was sick then we could be sick together and we would lie on the couch, watch TV and eat chocolate, er, I mean vegetable soup.

I tried to hide my annoyance at him and I think  it worked because when my sister phoned in the morning I did not bite her head off – which in my family counts as a good mood.  Her news wasn’t as good. My mum had had a bit of a faint/fall last night.

I wont go into details here because that’s my mother’s story to tell but I can tell you that it meant that there was no lazing about in bed for anyone today. Well my mum “lazed” about in bed but the beds in the emergency department of the hospital aren’t that comfortable.
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It’s funny what they say about the best laid plans and all that.

As I drove my mum from the doctor to the hospital I didn’t even notice that I had glands, let alone that they were sore. As I dropped my son at his cousin so that I could spend the day at the hospital he never even mentioned his sore throat.

And so I spent the day sitting with my sister next to my mum’s bed. And as it turns out it was far better medicine for me than a day in my own bed.

I felt so absolutely lucky that I did not have to be anywhere else today but with my mother. There was nowhere else I wanted to be and nowhere else I had to be. Up until fairly recently I didn’t have time. Or maybe I didn’t make time for the right things.

Today I am glad that I have the time for my family. Because at the end of the day that’s all that really matters.

PS. My mum is making a very good recovery and she’s probably reading this and about to shout at me that if I wasn’t feeling well then I should have gone home to bed.

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This isn’t how it was meant to turn out

April 19, 2013 by 9 Comments
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The contents of my fridge which I hope will magically morph into the dinner I wanted to make

One of the things that I am loving most about not working full time (okay not working at all) is that I have more time to cook for my family. As dorky and housewifey as that sounds – it’s true.  I love cooking for my family even though my son doesn’t really like eating and my husband would gladly eat whatever was put in front of him.

I have gone back to cooking with a new wave of excitement, it’s like a whole sphere of creativity has opened up for me and I can just well, create anything.  I have been poring over recipe books and making lists of ingredients that I would never usually buy because I was always in such a hurry.  My fridge is bursting with exotic herbs (where basil and parsley are exotic), my kitchen bench tops are a mess and I am “borrowing” garbage bin space from the neighbours.  All signs that there is much cooking going on in this home.

Friday nights are always family nights in my house – one week at my sister and the next week at me. My sister has morphed into this brilliant cook and, to be honest, it’s getting out of hand. I was always meant to be the good cook in the family but now she’s showing me up with brilliant meals and cakes that belong in cake museums or wherever they display cakes of spectacular beauty.

So now with all this time on my hands and a wealth of amazing recipes on my hand (and the fact that my sister is at work and I am not) I decided I would spend today cooking up a feast for my family who are coming for dinner tonight.

I went shopping really early this morning. Too early it seems because half the things on my list were not on the shelves, including the ribs around which I had based my main meal.

So the regular treatment is generic cialis canadian killing the bacteria with antibiotics. online levitra It was a fine option for people, which cannot journey to Karlovy Vary or would like ongoing the healing course at home. It’s widely accepted that sex and relationships are intricately connected to each other and the community around them. sildenafil generic india It is a medicine used to cipla viagra generic give nature a second preference and the first attention was drawn by his inventions to sort out some puzzled matters. I came home to start making meringues straight away because they require about a zillion hours in the oven and they are always impressive. Part of my being at home means more time with my son so I thought to include him by letting him break the eggs and separate the white from the yolk.  Why I gave him such a fiddly job is beyond my comprehension. At the moment the meringues are drying out in the oven but if you look at them you may mistake them for flat, off-white buttons.

Undeterred I went on to make chocolate cases for the other dessert I was making. It seemed ridiculously easy to paint cookie cups with melted chocolate and let them set. The concept is that you do this painting the cookie cup thing, let the chocolate set in the fridge – peel back the cookie cup paper and bingo you have chocolate cases.   I have chocolate cases. The “walls” are about 1mm high and paper thin. With holes in them. There is nothing that can go in these cases – unless air counts as something. (Also Little Pencil has eaten three of them already so there aren’t enough).

I had also decided to make what looked like a stunning barley and pomegranate salad. Two hours after I had finished extracting the last seed from the pomegranate (yes it felt like it took that long) and mixed the salad ingredients together I was stuck. The next step was to taste the salad and adjust the seasoning. I hate barley and celery which are the two non pomegranate ingredients of the salad so there was no way I was tasting it.  Why I have made something I hate I have no idea either.  I do know however that I will always be reminded of it because the top I was wearing today is now pomegranate coloured and my hands are raw from trying to restore their natural colour)

On that note I also made broccoli soup which I am too scared to taste.

I have forgotten where I read the recipe for the pumpkin I wanted to make and I have run out of steam to do anything else.  There are a thousand salad ingredients in the fridge, some meat which I hope prepares itself and a few bottles of wine.

I don’t think it’s too early to open them.

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He doesn’t look sick to me

April 12, 2013 by 13 Comments

photo(30)If you don’t know that I am a bit obsessed with me dog chances are that you haven’t met me in real life.  My dog is like my son only he doesn’t talk back and he’s a lot hairier but he’s just as special and he’s probably just as spoiled.

It’s not just me though, my husband puts me to shame in the overbearing love he has for the dog (which is like 190 posts for another day).

The other night while fawning over the dog’s beauty I discovered what can best be described as a bit of shmutz next to his eyes (for those who have grown up with no Yiddish influence in their life –shmutz is a bit like dirt of the unknown variety.)

In an attempt to rid his face of anything detracting from his beauty I got a tissue and pulled off the shmutz. Pulled, as in yanked.  When there was a bit of blood on the tissue I started to feel a bit bad, when I noticed that the shmutz looked a little like a tick I started to worry.

My husband wasn’t home and I toyed with the idea of phoning him to tell him (we take dog matters very seriously in this place) but I could just picture him speeding home, scooping the dog up and placing him in intensive care and I could tell that this was CLEARLY not necessary. The dog was, at that point, running around the house amassing his toys into a central eating area.

So I left it and casually mentioned it to him the next morning. He panicked but only internally at first. By the time I checked my email at 9:00am there were several quotes from eminent veterinarians about the dangers of ticks in my inbox.

A couple of hours later I was apologising to the vet for presenting such a healthy dog. He assured me that I had pulled off a skin tag (nice!) and there was no danger of any tick related illnesses.  While I was there I thought I might just mention that the dog may have been biting his paws and his ears were in need of a check up as they could smell a little, er yeasty at times.
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$350 later I walked out of the vet with anti-biotics for his feet, ear drops for his ear, some other tablets for a fungal infection (also on his feet) and some eye drops for his eye that I might have irritated by pulling off a skin tag (still nice!). Oh and steroids for his persistent skin allergies (which is another 900 posts for another day).

$350.

I gave him his dinner and his medication last night and he vomited it all up.

So I have two questions

  1. If I hadn’t pulled off the skin tag would he have needed any of this medication because he certainly wasn’t planning a trip to the vet for any of these other “ailments”?
  2.  What kind of fancy car do you think my vet is saving up for?

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Don’t ask me for my phone number

April 11, 2013 by 3 Comments

As most of you will know I just left my “big job” and am on my way to being involved in a host of different and exciting projects. Things are going really well and I have been having some great conversations by email with all sorts of exciting people. To this end I have spent quite a bit of time perfecting the signature at the bottom of my email template to make sure that it houses all my details – including phone number, website, Facebook page and Twitter account.

I pride myself on being anal. The attention I place to detail is one of my strongest attributes and I routinely mock other people who don’t cross all their t’s and dot all their i’s. Since its advent in 1998, cialis tadalafil 5mg http://unica-web.com/archive/2012/g-a/12patronage.pdf, introduced by Pfizer, went on to become the fastest selling prescription medicine ever. In fact, such exams are also a buying sildenafil norm with B. But one thing must be kept in viagra price uk mind while opting for sexual role on a particular day. Later, after its patent protection expiration, viagra in the usa Ajanta Pharmacame up with Kamagra tablets that contains Sildenafil citrate and render same effects as a penis pump and let you enjoy great sex without being occupied by a coming up short erection.  I am also one of those really annoying people who always spot mistakes on other people’s work – be it misspelled words on menus or grammar on signboards.  Typos in blog posts and omitted words in books – I am all over them like a rash.

So there I was sending out emails to all and sundry often including the words – “all my details are in my email signature”. Confident as hell I was. 

Until I got a tweet yesterday from my beautiful friend Adam saying “Can you call me? I tried calling your number twice and a dude answered?”

I’ll add at this point that my phone has NOT been ringing off the hook.

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I imagined Adam having a small (but treatable) form of dyslexia that meant he was having problems dialing the number correctly. When I realised that was improbable I started to curse Optus for doing something tricky to the lines so that when people called my correct number the lines were crossed and my phone was being answered by some dude with a number that was not even close to mine.

But because I am anal and I cross all my t’s and dot all my i’s I quickly double checked my email signature AND I HAD GOT MY OWN PHONE NUMBER WRONG IN MY EMAIL SIGNATURE.

I doubt I will ever live this down.

*hangs head in shame*

Filed Under: My Life

Don’t put this in your eye

April 5, 2013 by 4 Comments
This is not an image of my own eye. Although it's rather how I imagined my eye would look. Hint: it didn't work

This is not an image of my own eye. Although it’s rather how I imagined my eye would look. Hint: it didn’t work

A 73-year old woman by the name of Margaret Kimpton was taken to hospital earlier this week after mistaking superglue for eye drops. Just take a minute to digest that. Try NOT to blink while you think about squeezing glue into the corner of your eyes.

Now try not to think less of me when I tell you about my very own Kimpton moment.

I was about 14 years old and hanging out with my BFF at her house getting ready for a big night which probably involved staying at home and talking about going out. But still, it was very important that we put on loads of make up and spend many hours doing our hair and nails. Because in my day that’s what 14-year old girls did.

But “my day” was long ago and there was no such thing as fancy, shmancy, glittery eyeshadows – there was however an impressive range of nail polishes.  I really, really liked the colour of the nail polish on my friend’s shelf, I remember it with the lucidity I was about to lose. It was clear with silver glitter suspended through it. I also remember thinking it would make a REALLY good eye shadow.

If only I had left it to my imagination but no, I did what any girl (with absolutely no sense) would do in the situation. I improvised and painted my eyelid with the nail polish. (I was smart enough to stop at one eyelid but this may just be because when I finished painting that eyelid I couldn’t see a damn thing)

Let’s just say that while lipstick can sometimes be substituted for blush and if you are in a really tight spot you can use blush on your lips, you should NEVER use nail polish on your eyes.

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But just like Margaret Kimpton I am not alone

The Sydney Morning Herald reports

“More than 900 people from NSW put superglue in their eye instead of eye drops over eight years, a review of calls to the NSW Poisons Information Centre between 2004 and 2011 has found.

Superglue was not the only culprit causing emergency room visits. Nearly 1300 people accidentally mistook medicines such as antiseptics, anti-fungals and nasal decongestants as eye drops.

More than 75 per cent of those who made the mistake were adults.”

Oops – just realised those stats were all about mistakes and I walked into my er, mishap knowingly. I blame my youth and the fact that my eyelids aren’t a little tougher.

What is the stupidest make up or cosmetic mistake you have ever made?

Filed Under: My Life

Why they don’t give out soapboxes at the Easter Show

April 3, 2013 by Leave a Comment
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My son is up there somewhere. WITHOUT me I might add

The day did not start out well when I sprinkled Chinese five spice powder on my breakfast instead of cinnamon.  As a general rule I do not like more than one spice for breakfast. Enough said.

The plan was to go to the Easter Show by car because I am allergic to public transport. Allergic meaning I have huge control issues and need to be able to access my car at any point in time and escape if I must.  The five spice powder should have acted as some kind of warning but no, I drove to Homebush to find every single access to the parking at the showground closed.

Eventually after parking somewhere very far away and getting a shuttle bus we got to the show. My son was so excited to be spending the day with me that he told me so eleven thousand times. The low point being when he said “and you don’t even have your lap top in your bag”. Had I spent so little time just with him (and no work) in the past few years that to just hang with me was such a praiseworthy experience? I am afraid the answer might be yes.

That said going out with no work stresses felt foreign but extraordinarily liberating. I was almost willing to look past the five spice powder and lack of parking… I was going to have fun damn it!

Until I saw an “exhibit” which appalled me so much I almost stood on a soap box and called for the Easter Show to be closed down immediately. Remember I hate being in the public eye – but this was horrific.  Seriously.

It was a deep, narrow tank of fish. At first I felt sad for the fish because there was literally no room for them to turn round and I am one of those people who believe fish should have room to move… But worse than that was the whole concept around this trapped fish tank – you could pay money to have a chance to fish from the tank. Obviously you’d be guaranteed a catch.
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Now I’ll be honest and say that I didn’t stay around to find out the details – for all I know you could just traumatise the fish and throw it back, or maybe you got to kill it properly and eat it. Maybe you got to keep it as a pet – any way you look at it I can’t find anything about it that seems fun, entertaining or ethical about trapping a fish and then catching it by luring it with a hook. It’s like putting an animal in a cage and shooting it for sport. In fact that’s exactly what it is.

I tried so hard not to obsess over the fish. But then I got to the animal enclosures and I saw a pig feeding her piglets and I wanted to get back on my soapbox and call an end to intensive factory farming. (By the way you can help do that here – seriously do it!)

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Pigs need a little bit of space to smile like this

I am no good around animals. No good at all.

This turned out to be a wonderful thing for my son because I forced him to leave all that behind and spend the rest of the time at the show checking out amazing sugary confection, riding scary rides and traipsing around the showbag pavilion laden with bags. No wonder he thought spending the day with me was so much fun!

So tell me – when you visit a place like the Easter Show is it for the rides or the animals? Are you into the craft or the woodchopping? What is your Easter Show calling card?

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