Friday, January 29, 2010

My, how my world has changed

It's funny how quickly you adjust, and how you gain a different perspective after the death of a child. See to me, it has lost all shock value and is quite commonplace. I dont even think about what it would sound like to a stranger.

I made the mistake of mentioning it when I went in to try and get a new phone. See my contract is one month from expiry which means i am eligible for a free phone upgrade. They told me that it wouldnt expire till 17 march but I knew better because march 2 years ago I didnt leave the house, let alone go in and sign a contract on a phone. I was in hibernation after my Tiny Man's death. The sales guy started with "ohh no. See you signed up in March."
me "no, I signed up in February"
him "well it says here 17 March"
me "I can guarantee you it was February"
him "no, March"
me (wanting the argument over) "No, it was February because my son died in February and we had our new phones in the hospital when he died."
him *blinks* "ohhh maaaan. Why did you tell me that? Oh maaan thats heavy. Oh no why did you say that?"

I felt pretty bad for him to start, forgetting how awful it must sound to someone not accustomed to babydeath, but he seemed almost disgusted that I had told him. Like it was something people shouldn't mention in polite society. Well fuck that. I don't believe there is such a thing as polite society. So I only felt bad for a second. I had forgotten that it was such a bad thing, it has become just one of those things that happened to me now.

My oh my, how my world has changed.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Are the paint fumes to blame?

There is nothing worse than painting in extreme heat. Actually there is nothing more worse than painting in extreme heat, and realising that those drips you feel running down your shin are not, as you thought, beads of sweat*, but rather enamel paint dripping off the paint tray you didn't realise you were holding on an angle.

There is, however, no explaining why I stood there and watched it pool in my good trainers (why I wore them to paint I'm not sure) rather than (a) straighten up the paint tray, or (b) run to the sink and clean them off.

Yes I was that tired.

And that braindead after painting approximately eleventy million** door and windowframes that nothing made much sense anymore. Although that could have been the paint fumes...



* my mother, reading over my shoulder, comments "Suzy, women do not sweat. Horses sweat. Women perspire." No mother, I was sweating. Ugly, not at all ladylike, beads of sweat were running out of every pore. Which, by the way, ew.

** please note number may not actually exist




Wednesday, January 20, 2010

My "Real Job" part deux

Shortly after my decision to quit Law, I met my soulmate.
After a year together I realised my first dream - to own my own home. And we set to work painting, decorating, and making a home.

At the same time, after quitting law, I decided to do the thing I had wanted to do since I was five years old, and I entered university to become an architect. Shortly after that I conceived my second son. I studied through my entire pregnancy. I finished my first year at the top of the class. I was delighted. (Just call me Little Suzy Overachiever...my family do). Of course the way I did this was to stay up all night studying and working on projects, often until 4:30am, and then getting up at 7am to get Rocket ready for school. I couldn't really continue on that way forever, especially as I was about to give birth.

And then, of course, everything changed.

My Tiny Man died, and then he was born, and I retreated into myself.

I did not go back to uni...I went back to my job as a legal assistant and re-evaluted my life.

What I decided was that the most important thing in my life was my family. My partner and my children. I decided that while I loved architecture, I could not see myself pursuing it as a career, because it would take me away from my children and my home far too much. Because, as previously stated, I am Little Suzy Overachiever and I throw myself into whatever I am doing. I am passionate about anything I do, whether it is scrubbing a floor or redesigning a commerical property.

I decided the best place for my passion was my home, and my family. So I ditched the idea of a "career" and stunned my family yet again. I dedicated my future to my family.



And being a housewife became my "real job". It is actually something I thought would NEVER happen, and if you asked my mother she would agree that the idea of me finding cleaning a house enjoyable would have been laughable a few years ago.

But here I am.

So now I just need to learn how to be a good housewife...hmmm

Monday, January 18, 2010

My "Real Job"

I've been thinking a lot about 'being a housewife' lately and what it all means.

I know that as a child of the 80s, if I had ever come to my mother and told her that I wanted to be a housewife when I grew up she would have scoffed and told me that no, when I grew up I would have a real job.

All my childhood I was told that I was so clever and was destined for great things. All I wanted was a home and children to look after. Oh and a million dollars wouldn't go astray. I was the intellectual in my family of 4 girls. One was an incredibly gifted sportswoman destined for the Olympics, one was the "pretty" one, and one was the hilarious people-person who remains one of the most unique women I have ever known. I was the "smart one". I was the one they pinned all their hopes on.

"Suzy is going to be a lawyer".

And yes, when I graduated high school with near perfect scores, I was accepted into Law School. I was also about to give birth to Rocket, my eldest son. I was a single mother at the time and I knew that going into Law would provide me with the income I felt I needed. So off to law school I went. And I was good at it. Offered a place in some fancy exclusive club for over achievers as I was in the top level of grades in the entire university. And while that thought alone gave me a warm fuzzy (who doesn't like being better than other people at something?) I decided that I would rather poke out my eyeballs with a plastic spork than go into Law as a profession.

So I quit.

Much to the shock and disappointment of my entire family, my mentors at university, and all my classmates who I'm sure were more concerned that there would be no-one around to explain concepts to them that apparently only I understood. No-one could understand why I would give it up.

I had been working in law firms for years, throughout my entire high school career actually, as my mother worked in small firms and they provided me with "holiday work" which actually meant that for $6 an hour I stood at a photocopier and sneakily read transcripts and all manner of interesting confidential documents. I also gained myself a mentor in the form of one of the top barristers in the state, who used to set me bizarre 'homework' tasks like - "find for me the atomic weight of one square metre of gold bars".

I also got to see the work that was assigned to lawyers at different levels. And I knew that once I graduated, I would spend the next 5 to 10 years doing menial, mindless, boring tasks on boring cases. And if I wanted to get anywhere I would have to spend 60 hours a week in the office doing said menial boring tasks.

Like I said. Plastic spork in my eye.

Plus I had a 3 year old at this point who I actually wanted to see and spend time with. And the reality was...I still wanted to be a housewife.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

Another Year Older

I cannot believe that my big boy is turning eight years old today.
Why it seems like only last week my 17 year old self was learning of his existence and wondering (a) how I would finish high school and (b) just how fat would I get and could I still go to hardcore gigs?

And now he is eight years old. Going into third grade this year. With a face full of freckles and a wild mane atop his head as he refuses to let me cut his hair at the moment.

He is so clever, but with a memory like a sieve. He can remember how to put together a 2000 piece lego set from memory but could not tell you what he had for lunch. He both drives me slightly insane and fills my heart with pride. He is the gentlest soul, with a serious obsession for My Little Ponies and a huge love for his mommies. He is a doting big brother to the little bruiser and proudly tells everyone "this is my little bro".

Happy Birthday my sweet big boy. I cannot wait to see what you come up with next.

Monday, January 11, 2010

If this weather doesn't break soon, I might.

Ugh. If this weather doesn't break soon, I might.
110F/43C for 3 days running.
And the week before was only a few degrees cooler.
I think I can feel a breeze rolling in off the water and it's rumoured to break later tonight - here's hoping. My poor lil fella is 10 months old and just not liking the heat. He is drenched in sweat for most of the day and playing in the shower any chance he gets.

The only thing worse than 110F heat, is having to renovate in 110F heat. That's right, given that we are now on a deadline for project house #2 to be on the market by February, every spare minute has been spent around there fixing kitchen cupboards, creating wardrobe doors, hanging bathroom doors, and painting every single door and window frame in the place. I honestly can't believe we spent two full days (8hrs+) working in this weather. But hey, it has to be done. The sooner the better.

And it will be fabulous when it's done. I hope it is fabulous when it's done. I mean - this is what we were working with:
So pretty much anything we do will look a hundred times better!

Best be off - another long day of painting door frames awaits me tomorrow...




Sunday, January 10, 2010

the intro

New Year
New Blog
New Start

***

I've been blogging since 2002.

In that time I have:
raised my (almost) 8 year old son;
started, and quit, law school;
kicked an addiction (or three);
come out to my family;

met my soulmate;
bought and renovated our first home;
started (and deferred) my dream degree in architecture;
given birth to, and said goodbye to my beloved second son;
grieved, and grieved, and raged against the world;
recovered;
given birth to my beloved, robust, third son;
(partly) renovated our second home;
and through it all,
learned so much about myself, my world, and the people in it.

I have been considering a new blog for months. My old blog is so full of - as one of my much loved readers put it "fierce love, rage and sadness", and I can't stay there any more. So this one is just for me. I have composed entries in my head (as I know many of us do) while driving, while tossing and turning at night, and while watching tv. But that elusive first entry...I didn't know how to begin...so I'm just going to throw it all out there.

This is me. I'm sarcastic. I curse. I love anything vintage. I am fiercely loyal. I have a million opinions and I know you want to hear them all. I am full of love. Woo me with a witty comment and I'm yours.

At the end of the day, I am a (somewhat) reformed wild child still trying to adapt to my new role as a housewife and mother...stick around, this could get interesting...






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