the fifo wife

Mummmmm…I can hear being called from the other room. I roll over its 1130pm I get up and shuffle my way into the boys room like an old woman. B1 is the only one left the other two left and arrived half an  hour ago into my bed before B1 started calling my name. I sigh yes bubba. My feet are itchy he says. Okay I say and go get the cream the doctor had prescribed the previous afternoon. I rub it in and give him a shot of my old friend Phenergan . Can I sleep in your bed he asks? I sigh there is little room already I think to myself I want to say no but say yes because I know I will be up again in a little while and it will be easier than creating a permanent path in the floor boards.

We move to my bed. He sleeps but scratches at his feet all awhile talking to me in his sleep about a cat. He wakes again at 1230 am after the itch spreads to his hands. The cream and Phenergan is not working. I take him for a shower. My feet and hands are burning he tells me. I give him some more Phenergan and more cream. He looks at me crying. He cuddles me I hold him and tell him I’m sorry I can fix it quicker. He wakes again at 230 am and I call the hospital what else can I do for him? 10 more mls of Phenergan they say its all we could do so that’s what you should try. I do and he falls asleep scratching but he sleeps. I wake again at 4am.

I wish I could say I did all this with care and compassion but this was my third night of broken sleep and I was and I am getting tired. The last two nights was vomiting and sore throats and so last night or this morning I was starting to think that the doctor had got it wrong. That this is something other than his body having an allergic reaction to the virus he just had and so in me being scared last night I didn’t always say to him try not to scratch in my nicest mummy voice. In between the highs and lows of tiredness and fear I snapped stop scratching for Christ sake. I got cranky. I got scared. Then I got pissed off that I couldn’t fix it and that I was getting pissed off to begin with. WTF.

All while this happens he is holding my hand wanting me to fix him. He needs to be next to me; like my presence eases it the uncomfortableness. I should be whispering to him. Making sure he is okay.  Yet he is keeping me awake again with his tossing, turning and damn scratching at something I can’t see or fix. And I’m so tired I just want to sleep but I cant. I’m aware that it’s only me he wants, only ever me and I start to question what is the go with that.

Then he stops for a minute. Stops moving for just a minute. Stops scratching. Stops talking and is still long enough for me to remember; its me his mum, his only mum that he wants right now and I should feel lucky about that. I am lucky. Damn it. I start to stroke his hair and whisper in his ear that I am sorry I snapped at him. That I am tired, scared and I’m angry I can’t fix it this thing that is attacking his body. He crawls closer to me so he is now lying with his head on my chest he murmurs like he hears my apology deep in the drug induced sleep and accepts it with a cuddle.

I am uncomfortable. He at seven years old is almost bigger than me and there will be no sleeping for me now as he becomes heavier as he slips into a deeper sleep but the fact is its at that still moment I remember I become acutely aware that he won’t need me soon. Soon that this taking care of him business will be someone else’s job and that he; they will only be mine for a short time longer.

I think of the face book friend who wrote she was desperate for her little boy to sleep in his own bed and at the time I wanted to write to her enjoy him crawling into bed with you and ignore those people giving you advice as I ignore the cousin who tells me my boys sleeping with me is wrong. Over thinking I think of the disappointment of the little girl last week in Big W as her mother says no to her reading the story because she is in a hurry. At the time I was one of those mothers who judged. Who thought to myself come on read her the story it will take five minutes however I get it we can’t live in the moment all the time it’s impossible. Its not feasible. Not humanly possible. Not every single moment in life has to be savoured and enjoyed or that everything has a lesson to be learnt from and anyone that tells you any different isn’t living in the real world or if they are currently prescribed Lovan, have a nanny and an entourage that Jo Lo would be jealous of. Sometimes its just about riding it out seeing it for what it is and letting it be.

Still my face book friend I want to say to you as tired as you are as tired as I am, enjoy it sometimes almost all the time. Between the tiredness, the cranky, enjoy at least some of the moments when they crawl in to bed or with you on the couch when they bring you a book with you because they won’t be yours for ever. Right now only you can fix their sore belly, itchy feet, settle a bad dream and scare away the monsters. One day it will be someone else job and as tired as I am right now that day can take as long as it likes to get here.

The Upside Down Braid Bun..say that ten times over..with a couple of coffees under your belt.

I found this little style a few weeks ago via www.youqueen.com and with much patience and practise I am passing it on to you because once you have mastered the art of working upside down it really is simple hairstyle that will keep your hair in place, and make you look equally swish.

Its a combination of my two favourites. The braid and bun; ballet, French, or top knot what ever you would like to call it.

For the styling of the Upside Down French Braid Bun you might want to enlist a help of a friend who’s proficient in French braiding, because its just a little tricky do it on your own upside down however if I can manage so could you it just takes a little practise.

Just follow these simple steps or or watch a you tube tutorial here.

Tools:

• a brush
• elastic bands
• bobby pins
• bun roll, mousse and hairspray (optionally)

Tip: Keep in mind that your hair will be easier to work with if it’s not freshly washed.

Step 1

Start by gently brushing your hair to remove any knots. As you are probably already well familiar with what your hair needs, this is the best time to apply your usual hairstyling products (like mousse). Also, if you want to, you can gently tease the hair on top of your head to add volume.

Step 2

At this point you should divide your hair by making a part from your left ear across the crown of your head, to the right ear. Secure the top part of your hair with a clip and this should make braiding the lower half easier.

Step 3

Flip your head upside down, and then gently brush the hair again. Start the French braid at the nape of your neck, and braid all the way to the crown of your head. Then secure the hair with an elastic band, and leave the ponytail free.

Step 4

Remove the clip from the top part of your hair. Tie the hair and the ponytail left from the braid together in a high ponytail.

Step 5

Now you make a bun. For this you can use a bun roll. Slide it over your ponytail, arrange your hair around it, and then gently tuck it under the roll, and secure with bobby pins.

Or, you can do it without the bun roll. Just tease your hair a little, then twist it (you can also braid it if you want), and then wrap it around the elastic band. In the end secure it with bobby pins. You can leave a few strands out, if you want, for a messier look.

Step 6

In the end you can spray some hairspray on the brush, and smooth out any frizz.

Viola.

xx Deb

 

Tomorrow is a brand new start my mother would always say about Mondays and so last week after a week of bad moods, PMS (yes I am using that one), dealing with difficult, ignorant people and just having to deal with ‘stuff’ here we are on Monday rip roaring and ready to go. Because the reality is being in a cranky mood gets you nowhere. Just more arguments and you end up being like those difficult people that you’re dealing with.

So this morning when I got up despite my brand new start vow I woke up tired and somewhat cranky. A night of little sleep; with a sick baby, I had breakfast and went back to lay in bed with my sick B1. I listened to him sleep, he woke a little; he reached for my hand and I held it. I slept more soundly than I had all night his hand in mine just as I did when he was a baby and I have woke in a much better mood.

So here are the few things running through my head this Monday morning.

1. I made a statement last night that when B1 started vomiting I was gleefully happy that daddy was finally home from work to see what work goes into taking care of someone who manages to makes his vomit projectile every single time. Joke was on me because serving in the Australian defence force and working on a drilling rig means you learn to sleep through anything. And even if it does wake them, they look pat and roll. God bless.
2. Today is day one of the school term I’m delighted it has started just at the right time. The boys are the best of friends again. And me and the boys well even though we aren’t friends we still are; make sense?
3. I flew out of Brisbane last Wednesday and the number of men and women who were inconsiderate to the airline staff and fellow travellers was obnoxious. Some FIFO (the hi visy shirts and monogrammed shirts are usually a dead give away you think?) others obviously not. I don’t understand how they felt it was okay to be behave that way. The amount of money you earn doesn’t determine your importance in the world or your acceptation to the rules- it just doesn’t. It does however make you look like a jack ass. A jack ass with too much money and not enough class.
4. A boy I went to school with died before Easter Friday even though he was seemingly well. He went to bed for an afternoon nap before dinner with his sister and never woke up. He was 35 years old. The message? Live every single day as your last and tell everyone that means something to you you love them because you just never ever know when it’s your time.
5. A friend of mine over the weekend recounted how her ten year old boy was approached in the public toliet at a major shopping complex in the city last week. I felt fear and anger for her and then for myself and for everyone that has children. However it allowed us to engage in positive stranger danger, how to go with their gut (not all strangers are bad) and what defence tatic’s the boys can use just incase. Have you talked to your kids about stranger danger? Its a hard one to balance.
6. Scariest thing your child can say to you in the dead of night when he crawls into bed with you and your husband is away for the night on a training course? Is that daddy there mum. Who is that man standing there? Is it daddy. No matter how much you look and tell yourself its just shadows there is no sleeping soundly that night.
7. PSY has realised a new song and dance. Yes it’s true are we not lucky. Sigh and if you are like me you are bracing yourself for it. Head here if you need to see it ahead of time for what ever reason.
8. An Iranian scientist has invented a time machine. It can’t take you into the future but it brings the future to you in the form of a device as a big as a laptop computer. It has 98% accuracy. You can go here for more details however I’m struggling living day to day let alone worry about what is happening five years down the track.
9. When my husband asked me to marry him it was beautiful, simple and something I will always remember but the pressure men have these days to make something so special and personal an event is mind blowing. Just have a look here at the lengths these grooms to-be went to. I wonder if they considered how high the bar is set for now..for everything forever.. I’m sure that’s what my husband was thinking when he chose the simplicity of Kings Park on a bended knee a week before being sent off to a war zone. I will however have that night as disastrous as it seemed at the time (a series of misadventures from the wrong restaurant to getting lost and arguing over directions to nervous laughing on my behalf) over and over again.
10. Back in ancient Greece you threw apples at your chosen bride..how easy would that have been and you have a snack for later…the brides catching the apple was her acceptance her dropping it well there is nothing recorded on what happened there but one will assume she was fed to the lions..read more here for useless information

So that’s it my friends..in the words of my four year old you need to go to the gym mum so with that I’m off to drag my apparently over sized behind to the gym..

Have a great day,

Deb

Just a quick post to say thank you for the emails and phone call to make sure I was okay. I am truly humbled that you ladies took the time from your day to check in on me.

For those who haven’t missed me its okay you have not missed much as I haven’t posted since last week.

I write each morning at 430 am and very rarely do I schedule something in fact never – I did once and it was a disaster however that can be it was .

This week saw me in Brisbane until Wednesday night and on my return I just felt a little blah. You know that feeling when the big bad worlds reality getting to you? Do you know that feeling?

I do have drafts ready to go but they have to feel right on the day. I usually rewrite them and post but nothing has felt right to post and so with honesty as my guide ‘a fifo wife’ went empty because that’s how I have felt just a little out of sync. A little spent. Frustrated with the world and simply wasn’t in the right frame of mind to post so I didn’t.

I did try but like a stunned mullet nothing came out but this morning I awoke to a couple of emails ( your an intuitive lot)  and then a phone call from my Miss Mez a beautiful woman I have met through ‘a fifo wife’ checking I was okay. I have never have I felt so loved well perhaps there has been others but you get the drift.

So thank you ladies your simple act of an email. You taking the time to sit and type you have pulled me from my self indulgent mood. Thank you I am so very thankful. Consider it your random act of kindness for the week.

We will be back to normal Monday I have missed you.

Have a wonderful weekend.

xx Deb

Have you had a boob job he said to me?

I shot a look at my cousin and then his wife with a WTF look on my face?

She shrugged and played dumb but the truth he is would have needed some prompting. What? he said when I shot him the look. Well have you she piped up there it was and she then asked.

What? he said when I shot him the look. Well have you she piped up there it was and she then asked.

Well, have you she squeaked. I smiled to myself because there it was.

No I said I have not although I wouldn’t mind one I said and she rolled her eyes.

‘The girls’ are not what they use to be. I use to have a wonderful relationship with them. I liked them and they were played with ahem…a lot. Then they became feeding instruments and well they haven’t been looked at, touched or taken care of the same way since. Now they are hidden in the back of the cupboard like a toy that a child no longer wants. They are now dressed in beige, white or black whereas before in their prime it was the prettiest lace with a matching pant; the price was no obstacles for my girls. I loved a lingerie store like Kym Kardashian likes Botox.

Then they became feeding instruments and well they haven’t been looked at, touched or taken care of the same way since. Now they are hidden in the back of the cupboard like a toy that a child no longer wants. They are now dressed in beige, white or black whereas before in their prime it was the prettiest lace with a matching pant; the price was no obstacles for my girls. Spoilt were they.

When they finished being a feeding instrument they had lost their shine somewhat. The lost their perkiness and so did I. Shopping for bra’s and all things pretty became a ‘chore’ especially with an extra six legs attached to mine. So naturally, after I finished feeding I just went back to using the same bras I had. Pulled them out of my cupboard threw them on and thought nothing of it. They did meaning the bra did the job or so I thought because even though I tug, tucked and pulled it didn’t occur to me they may not being doing the job.

Then last week I saw a women with strange mutation of four breasts. Not two but four because thanks to Oprah I knew she was committing the ultimate atrocity that is the wrong sized bra and her bits flowed out the top of her ill fitting bra. She looked a mess despite being dressed nice, effort having been made her top let her down. I saw her in the reflection of the double doors as we head into a city shopping centre. I turned around to look at this lady who clearly had four breasts the quad bouncing around under her slightly fitted singlet. She wasn’t there; of course she wasn’t because it was me. I looked down and sure enough I had mutated I had four breasts. I was that women I use to snigger at; yes it’s true I did but that was then when I was young and knew everything.

So of course being that women I once sniggered at I head straight not to Target (my usual haunt for the two bras for $25.00..bargain.. my favourite since becoming a mum long gone are the days of spending $40, $50, $60 on one bra yes you can buy so much with that. Christ that’s a set of swimming lessons for the kids) but to a proper lingerie store one with an old woman who wore a cardigan, a tape measure and practical well fitting bra. I walked in and we need not speak. She ushered me into a cubicle. There was no need for words my front quad boob displayed my dilemma.

Busily she measured my under bust or my rib cage for the band size and then the she measured across my breast at the fullest point for the cup measurement. Now unusually I stripped off but if you have a bra on and one that doesn’t  flatten your breast it’s okay to leave it on whilst being measured but me I perhaps prematurely undressed in my fluster which was met with an awkward silence as she finger tipped measured me; embarrassing  but the point is I got measured. Not that I was standing partially naked in front of a stranger in a shopping centre where all that separated me from the other fully clothed shoppers was a ill fitting curtain. With brings us to that other world mystery; what is it with that, ill fitting curtains in change rooms?

Now if you can’t bring yourself to get measured by a professional for whatever reason get yourself a tape measure and do yourself a favour and fit yourself or have your husband help. I am sure he want mind. Head here for some help on how to measure correctly and here if you aren’t quite sure why you have four breasts instead of two. So my cardigan lady fitter took my measurements wrote them down and walked away. She returned with a beige number (beige? what is the go with that) it was huge, massive I said are you sure pulling the same face my four year old pulls when I put a bowl of garlic cabbage in front of him. Yes dear pop it on she said in the same voice I tell my four year old to eat it. When you do lean forward and fall into it she instructed (which is how you put a bra on- lean forward and fall into; your breast not your body you could damage yourself otherwise and then stand up) I made some sarcastic remark to myself that after three kids there is no popping it on. It’s lifting and pouring into the cup but still I did as she said and lifted and poured into what I was sure was the wrong size.

Of course Murphy law says I am wrong because I thought I was right and I am in fact bigger than I thought which means I was wearing the wrong bra which meant it did not fit properly. Which means depending on which bra I was wearing was either flat chested, had back fat or the horrid quad breast. I was mutated now wonder I felt a little blah. So now that I have the right bra like Oprah has exclaimed it has rocked my world. And it does indeed look like I have had a bit of help. It also means they look shiny and new again and well that’s never a bad thing. No one wants to be the toy that is at the back of the cupboard that no one wants to play with. Now I’m walking a little taller, my chest is out of course it is I have a $45 bra on I’m showing it off I paid $45.00 for it but I know I look good. I have a waist again and just two breasts. I feel good because I fit right and because I fit right I have fought the guilt and brought myself new intimates. This also means my underwear matches and never underestimates how much matching knickers can make you feel.

However I still shop at target I cannot resist a bargain two for $25.00 come on who can go past that but I have tried them on each of them and all the different styles because they all fit different. But I have brought myself some pretty ones from the grown up ladies shop because I wanted to; its that simple. So next time you don’t have an extra set of legs attached to yours get fitted. Who knows  wearing the right bra and you could re find an old toy and change how you feel about yourself all in one go.

Have you been professionally fitted? Did you go up or down? And what’s your thoughts on how matching bra and knickers make you feel. 

xx Deb