the fifo wife

This post was going to be some images I have taken over the past week because as you know every blogger does. Then I went on to think about how when I met my husband I loved photography. Then I thought how much I loved design, loved to draw, I loved fashion not always so good at it but loved it all the same. I loved to cook. I loved study, I loved learning, I loved scuba diving, rock climbing, reading and going for drives. I loved all those things and then with one big push or cut of the knife on the 4^th of October 2005 I become a mum and all those things stopped. I vowed they wouldn’t and for a while I resisted determined that being mum wouldn’t change me but then I resented things, people, stuff and it was easier to give in and realise that my time would come again. So through circumstance I didn’t have the time for the things I loved anymore or if I did they became chores and so I had to do them and where is the fun in that?

Dressing was a chore. I barely had time to shower let alone think what I was going to wear and no amount of Trinny and Suzanna helped me. I was that women who walked around in sweat pants and her husband’s over sized t shirts because sometimes it was all I could find that could fit me other times it was because I was too beat and tired to find something pretty to put on. If were to be completely honest and that has the only way to live; I have only just thrown away my maternity bra’s and t shirts. It’s been three years but judging by the number of maternity jeans I still see being worn by mothers whose babies are now in year five, purging my maternity wear after three years I am not doing too badly.

Cooking became a chore. A means to refuel that is all. I brought more cook books hoping to be inspired but when you go from puree pumpkin to then having to bargain with someone who is completely unable to understand why they must eat to survive that too becomes a chore. And so I have eaten more pureed food than necessary because it was sometimes easier than cooking something for myself. And as a FIFO wife there is often no one else to cook for and no one wants to eat alone after you have sat through a battle, a lesson in why they should eat this or physically exhaust yourself with my favourite zooming and parking the air plane.

So I stopped watching the news it interfered with bath time and bedtime. I stopped exercising.  I stopped being creative. There was no time. My children were my priority as they should be but in that time I got really lost. I swore it wouldn’t happen but I got lost somehow. Through being tired, depressed, angry, exhausted and happy all in one I forgot what I liked. I knew I liked coffee but didn’t I use to also like something else? There was something missing about me.

So this past couple of years and through writing my blog I have found that little creative spot of me again and I love it I have missed it. My time slowly but surely is coming back around. I saw it grabbed it and it’s exciting. I knew it would happen but sometime I worried it wouldn’t. That I would be that dull person always. Easily forgotten and never thought of.

My husband saw it slipping but it was easier to ignore it than to fight for the time but here we are. He understood how important not forgetting me was but I held faith it come around and here it is. It was just a matter of getting off the couch and grabbing it. Now my boys are older, more independent requiring me less. Its okay for me now.

I’m rediscovering myself and redefine my role along the way and I couldn’t be happier. Its paying off in every bit of my life and all my relationships are benefiting. I’m no longer FIFO husband’s wife or the B boy’s mother. I am Debbie. That writer girl who has the shop on the corner with the online store who likes her shoes, drinks good coffee and likes lettuce in her soup. That girl. My role as mother is now a joy not a chore, my role as a wife I cant get enough of and my role as me myself and I well I like her a lot; I think if we met we would indeed be friends.

However don’t panic I won’t swamp you with my non artistic shots along the way that’s more for me than you.

Tell me did you get lost along the way? Tell me one of your favourite things?

xx Deb

It’s so wonderful being pregnant she cooed I spun round to look at her, my eyebrows raised. She was glowing but then so did I (it was called hot flushes) and still I didn’t really enjoy the process of being pregnant. She was pregnant and slender so was I with the first one, not the second and definitely not the third. I smiled at her how far a long are you along I asked? Twenty weeks she sighed. Lovely I said. Do you know what you’re having? No we want to keep it a surprise. Great I said. I turned back to what I was doing.

Rob is so attentive she said. Yes they usually are with the first I said but then by the third baby they realise that your pregnant not sick and well that kind of lapses and pretty soon you’re moving house and carry 40 kilo boxes on your own because well he knows you can. I kicked myself I knew how that must of sounded; damn it I said under my breath. It was meant to be funny but it didn’t come out they way. She either didn’t care or didn’t hear I’m hoping it was the latter.

Did you carry well she asked me. Yes I said. I was a born baby carrier and a regular ole jersey cow after. At the time I took that for granted and I shouldn’t have because some aren’t as fortunate as me for whatever reason and it’s only just now do I understand how horrible that can be for some.

Did you have morning sickness I asked not really knowing what else to say to her? No she said sorting through the baby clothes I was passing on to her. That’s great I said. People tell me pregnancy suits me she said. It does I said but what else does one say she was only twenty weeks she was in that honeymoon phase, the third trimester; little did she know. It was at that point in my head I was laughing the evil laugh head thrown back the evil gurgle coming from my belly. A little jealous on my behalf perhaps? I remember being twenty weeks too thinking this was great little did I know what was to come. What the mothering books didn’t tell me or I failed to take serious note of. I wish someone had grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me. Yelled at me this will happen to you and some of it will suck.

1. The first thing I failed to realise was that the sleep deprivation was to start from when I was six months whilst pregnant. Not after the baby was born but well before. I would wake four five times a night almost every night whether it was from needing to go to the toilet; which I soon was given the tip to lean forward when going to pee it helps open the bladder so you go less; so is the theory. I then suffered restless legs, carpel tunnel from continuing farm work until I as 5 months or as it happened baby just decided since he was awake I should also be too and we should enjoy his internally belly kicking together. As a result I was tired before he even arrived. I wish someone had told me because I would have napped more.

2. My feet then grew by half a shoe size. I kid you not. It happens and has to do with the loosening of the ligaments and of course this includes the ligaments in the feet because of the extra weight you’re carrying. For some it’s not permanent. Me? Of course it was because it was my punishment. My karma for cursing my baby for giving me six months of morning sickness and so it was deemed by the law of karma that I was never to be able to wear my favourite Chinese Laundry pumps ever again.

3. I had extra skin, moles and nodules grow in weird obscure places. Who knew that would happen? Not me that’s for sure and so when a horrible thing appeared in the middle of my back whilst I was holidaying in Sydney I thought it was cancer and so for four days I thought I was going to die. That along with hormones did not make for a good holiday. So along with the one in the middle of my back I had benign tumour develop on my gum.  Seriously nice. These are called them skin tags or pyogenic granuloma and eventually they disappear (if they don’t see your dentist of doctor depending on where these nodules are) and mine did disappear with the exception of the one they cut out of back because they didn’t want to risk it. Id rather the scar than the risk. However it was at this point I was fat, tired, felt like I looked nothing like they did pregnant on telly but rather the elephant man and hormonal to boot it. It was at this point husband was glad he was doing 21/7.

4. My appetite was massive for everything not only just for steak and salt and vinegar chips….Wink wink nudge nudge…It was at this point husband was disappointed he was on 21/7.

5. When I packed my bag for hospital I packed my pre pregnancy t shirts. A little size 8 number. I just thought when baby arrived my stomach would disappear; completely. I thought a little flabby but you know flat as board. Ah no. The disappoint I felt after the nurse pulled out my shirts as she dressed me after my 10 hours of labour (yes I know nothing) and then my emergency c section because I was unable to move and all dignity lost cold heartily laughed at me. She went on to tell me told me in no uncertain terms that I wouldn’t be able to get back into that; holding it up with her pinkie finger sniggering, for at least three months was as heart breaking as giving away my favourite pumps because pregnancy made my feet not only bigger but flatter.

6. I started stalking celebrity women who were pregnant the same time I was. Britney Spears was one. I need to say no more.

7. My hair looked lush but fell out like faster than Britney spears could put her knickers on.

8. Nothing prepared me for how much my milk coming in would hurt. It hurt. They what I formly knew as my breasts went up four cup sizes OVER NIGHT.  Husband impressed yes. However never would they be played with the same again. Never would they look the same. Never. I was sure some mornings I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed and I saw newspaper headlines; ‘woman crushed with own breast’ as I opened my bleary eyes each morning. Nor did I know that I would leak at the sound of my baby crying or another for that fact. If I was given a baby now I’m sure I could still feed. Jersey is my middle name.

9. I got a heart murmurs for each of my babies its taken years for it to settle down.

10. Then I experienced love at first sight something everyone told me happened but I didn’t believe. The rush of emotion, love and desire to protect my baby left me dumb founded and overwhelmed. I was convinced I couldn’t love someone I had never met. I did. He in his first cry reduced me to tears. I loved him. It was love at first sight. He was perfect. Which then lead me to the moments of never feeling prouder and more love for my husband as he held our baby for the first time. He took care of him and me like we were the most fragile things in the world. I felt so loved and it’s never stopped. We are still to him the most fragile things in the world.

So I looked at her again. Pregnant and happy. So sweet and innocent. The evil laugh gurgling away in my head becoming ever more silent as I thought about how much I loved my babies and my husband. How I kind of missed feeling those butterflies then massive boots to the inside of my stomach. How I missed feeding my babies. How much I loved holding their tiny hands looking at them for hours. How much they taught me patience because I had and still have never in my life been so emotionally and physically tired. That I never felt so lonely and content all in one.

I contemplated telling her how much some of that pregnancy stuff sucks but she was so happy and I remember being that happy at twenty weeks so I didn’t and she probably wouldn’t listen any way because I didn’t.

After all I went back three times over its called pregnancy brain yes it really does exist, it has too.

xx Deb

 

 

 

 

How was your weekend my lovelies. Mine was just peachy..yep I actually said that peachy, well it was. Finally it has started to cool down. The weather is bearable you can move without breaking a sweat and I do believe I spent much of my January in front of my fan cursing ourselves for being too cheap not to put a air conditioner in. Which by the way can you believe it? It’s February already, where the hell did January go? It came and went without so much as a hello. I haven’t even got item one scratched off my to do list yet.

Yet here we are so here is a few things running through my head.

1. Its February the month of love. Now I’m not a huge romantic I will leave that to my husband. Romance makes me feel a little lets say embarrassed it goes along with that whole public displays of affection crap. I have however instead decided to make this pay it forward month so I’m sharing the love sort of. So this is in other words do something nice for someone without the need for it being returned.  A little random act of kindness gig. I’m aiming for one a week and so far it worked out well compared to the last little effort I made last time.

2. Husband is home in a week. I thought it was another two weeks. My plan to drop those 2 kilos I put on over Christmas is going to be a little harder than I thought.

3. It seems Prince Harry just cant cut a break. Seems the young lass Carrie Reichert he cavorted with in Las Vegas whilst playing strip poker is writing about her experience because she needs to get her side of the story out. What more needs to be told she was lucky (or clever enough) to get naked with one of the worlds most eligible bachelors. She didn’t play her cards she didn’t end up as his girl (who would of thought) right I don’t think there is any more of her story to be told. However it gets better there are several others famous ‘gentlemen’ to be named and shamed because a girl who voluntarily parties in next to nothing with these gentlemen needs to tell her side of the story to clear her name.

4. On my morning walk this morning my very sweet and demure but geriatric looking poodle rolled in a very dead and maggot infested bat. She took great delight in rolling about in the very liquefied mess ensuring that every inch of herself was covered in a stinking filthy mess. The message still never judge a book by its cover. She may look like a million dollar princess but just like any other dog just likes getting a little dirty.

5. I was at the lake yesterday with the boys. It was packed with families. There were two women arriving separately wearing a Brazilian thong bikini thing; unusually for my countrified area. They wore it and wore it well. As you have to with those things. They had confidence and the whole strut thing going on. Now I don’t care a real lot although a number of women did; had my boys pointed out I would have explained its a swim suit of sorts and depending on their reaction may or may not have moved but what I found disappointing was the number of men, fathers, husbands and boys squirming. Not knowing where to look not trying to look when the reality is a swim suit like that kind of screams look at me. It does seem a pity that seen looking may deem you as a pervert which in 9/10 men is not the case.

6.Woke at 3.30am. I don’t know why.

7. I decided this past weekend to reduce my coffee intake. I drink only three a day and dropped down to one…in one day. Stupid idea for the entire weekend I had a hangover and felt like I had gone three rounds with Ali notice I didn’t say Mundine wouldn’t have packed the same ahhh I thought it was funny.

8. Its a tight week for my budget this week and I mean tight. I have so many bills ie rates, insurance, swimming fees and the rest of day to day living that all I have to do a shop with is just $60. So some may feel this is doom and gloom- me its challenge set. Game on. How many ways with rice?

9. I want to know who did this research : a study found that men who spent more time doing “more traditionally female” household chores like cooking, cleaning, and shopping were found to have less sex than those who didn’t. Obviously they didn’t come to my house watching my husband mop the floors is a smile guaranteed.

10. Did you read about the woman in Brazil who tried to kill her husband by inviting him to have oral sex with her ‘poisoned vagina’? She had to fess up in the end when the husband refused sex because it (her vagina) smelt funny and took her to hospital. My question is what the heck would you put on there that wouldn’t kill you too? Never the less the husband is now suing her for attempted murder. You can read more about it here.

Well that’s it my sweets. Hope your having a great Monday..

xx Deb

 

I walk the dogs every morning. I have too. If I didn’t they would wake the kids with their nagging and it’s only fair just like humans they need exercise to stop them getting bored, to keep them healthy and to stay strong. Some days it’s an effort but once we are out and about I love it and walking is one of my favourite forms of exercise along with swimming, just like them really. They love to swim. It gives me a bit of time to think about what I have to do for the day and until recently it was the only me time I got and we all know how important that is.

I have four dogs. A complete mix of breeds to a very princess poodle, staffy cross, kelpie cross, and a to a very elegant bull mastiff cross. They are various ages from Josie the geriatric poodle to Shona a three year old who is as fast and as quick as a whip and beautifully and like humans all have their own personalities and traits. They are inside dogs and outside dogs. my in law’s hate it. I don’t care. They are part of my family and research states its good for them it shows they are part of a pack and they understand their place in it their pecking level. They are cleaner than my kids most days are treated for fleas and wormed every three months just like my children are with the exception that the boys are treated for (precautionary) head lice as opposed to fleas and I clean every day weather there is dogs or kids inside, there is always something.

Why four dogs? I have four dogs because well I’m allowed to by council legislation. I live alone for six months of the year; they take care of me, and my husband’s dog Lucy has told me on more than one occasion who I can and can’t let into my home. Strange as it sounds she determines who I will and will not let into my life. She proved her worth in gold the day she tried to bite a subcontractor (something completely out of character) we had working on our home. Turns out he felt that women were best used for of punching bags and scrubbing his floor with. There are other reasons too I have a big home and perhaps too big a heart and the fact is they have either come from deaths row from being the last at the pet shop meaning they were no longer cute and cuddly or they have like Shona our dingo kelpie cross has come from an impending death row of irresponsible owners. Beating an animal and starving it will not get them to do what you want them to only good training will do that. The last to join us was Big Boy he simply was not wanted and left behind. His purpose whatever it was my guess a pig dog given the number of poorly healed tears around his mouth and ears, was used up and like too many puppies far too easily discarded.

So each morning we walk. We pass the cows with the poodle going crazy, she barking like mad, me apologising out loud (yes to the cows) all a while saying thankyou to them (the cows) in my head. Now I’m not a vegetarian but the older I get the more I’m conscious of what I eat and how it got there. It’s become important to me. I know the food chain rubbish. I know they are just a cow. I know they are breed for eating. I also know they live, they breathe, they cry for their mothers, they cry when they are hurt, they bow their head for another scratch and I have watched the fear they hold as I follow them as I drive into town them on the back of the truck as they head to the slaughter yards. Its fear I can see it and they what ever you think are not stupid. So I’m thankful to them.

It’s after this a brief struggle in which in the day light I am often laughed at hence why I go in the dark we move on to the creek where Shona chases rabbits and Big Boy tries trying being the optimum word to catch bream with his mouth; yes its true. Lucy ever the grown up just watches and encourages the mayhem with her pitched bark and jumping from side to side, what ever that may do. Lucy my husband’s dog has grown from a scatter brain puppy to a lady. A true lady. If she was human we would most certainly be friends but we are all the same. We then walk down bush tracks, past old farms and then as he does every morning Big Boy will just sit in the middle of the path or road what ever comes first to tell me he has had enough. We don’t know Big Boys age. He is old full of arthritis and when he sits he is unmoveable until you say let’s go home Big Boy. In which he raises himself and we do go ever so slowly home. To do it all again in the morning.

xx Deb