That's me... I'm the birthday grinch. I HATE my birthday (not other people's, I love other peoples birthdays), my birthday is the single most disappointing day of the year. Why I hear you ask? The truth of the matter is I expect too much. Not expect as in a massive load of pressies/attention etc just that I expect my birthday to be just a little bit about me and it never is. I also kind of expect a little bit of thought and effort to go into gift giving because I put a huge amount of thought and effort into gift giving (which is why I love other people's birthdays so much) but its never reciprocated. I would just prefer it if people completely forgot my birthday and simply left me alone for 24 hours.
Today has already been a horrible day (and its only 11am, still 10 hours worth of torture left), firstly I get woken up early after a dreadful nights sleep, why oh why cant he just leave for the day without waking me up, all it does is make me cranky and irritable. The kids then proceed to drive me insane while we get ready for school - no one wants breakfast, S drags his feet, C is following me around screaming at the drop of a hat. All in all a pretty shitty morning... but it gets better (well worse actually). We get to school and I've left the library books at home which means that S wont be able to borrow unless I get them. Plus in the chaos this morning I forgot S tablet. So home we go, pick up library books and tablet and back to school.
Now I know that by the time everyone is home I'm going to be expected to be chirpy and happy and all the rest of it but it reality I just want to curl up in a ball and cry like a baby. Its my party, I can cry if I want to. I just want to be left alone... completely alone.
I really, really hate my birthday.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Friday, December 05, 2008
Answers finally
Its taken 4 years since we first trotted Samuel off to a speech therapist but it seems that we might finally be getting some answers. Samuel has always had motor and verbal dyspraxia but it seems we now have a reason why we werent making any progress with his language skills - he also has attention deficit disorder (ADD). We today received the results of his educational assessment (an IQ test for all accounts and purposes) from the paediatrician. His non-language portion of the test was very normal (his score was 100 which is the average for all the results). His reasoning came in at 94 so just a touch under the average. However his scores for language and attention came in at 54 and 62 respectively, a massive difference and clinically and medically significant says his paediatrician. These results when put all together give him an IQ of 97 but due to the huge discrepancy in the results the paediatrician has declared this to be null and void, the underlying issues make the result invalid.
So where to from here. Firstly we are cancelling his speech therapy for just a little while. Because his attention is under developed there is no point in sending him along as he is not getting the full benefit. Secondly, he has been prescribed Ritalin. The name alone sends shivers down my spine and the moment the doctor said ADD I knew that this was going to be prescribed. There is so much rumour and heresay surrounding this drug I dont really know what to think of it. I've found a few books that I'm going to get and read up about it. I'm scared though that he wont be himself anymore, that he'll become withdrawn. I guess we can only wait and see.
So where to from here. Firstly we are cancelling his speech therapy for just a little while. Because his attention is under developed there is no point in sending him along as he is not getting the full benefit. Secondly, he has been prescribed Ritalin. The name alone sends shivers down my spine and the moment the doctor said ADD I knew that this was going to be prescribed. There is so much rumour and heresay surrounding this drug I dont really know what to think of it. I've found a few books that I'm going to get and read up about it. I'm scared though that he wont be himself anymore, that he'll become withdrawn. I guess we can only wait and see.
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Memories
The inspiration for this post actually started in the twilight hours of this morning, that time when night is slipping into day and dreams become chaotic as they all vie together in an effort to be dreamt before dawn. This is when I dreamed about Roger McMann.
Who is Roger McMann you ask? To be honest I havent the foggiest, a random collection of thoughts mish-mashed together. But he had dreadlocks, and because he was the inspiration of these memories he deserves a mention too.
Now Roger and his dreadlocks got me wondering about other dreadlocked folk that I know and thus my thoughts turned to Brett and Jason, my cousins. Long, lanky, curly haired folk, I thought, they are most certainly not typical Hudsons. And thinking about the children of the Hudsons, really the only one that would be thought of as a "typical Hudson" as far as appearance goes would be Dale. Now having established this line of reasoning my thoughts started to wander in a different direction.
I started thinking about Nanny. What was life like for her when she was younger? I know that she and Poppy Tom (who passed away before I was born) travelled a lot but I dont know what they did or where they went. All those memories lost and all I have to show for their travels are a moonstone necklace and an amethyst bracelet. Now this got me thinking about my own memories and that of course brought me back to Nanny's house.
It was only a small house but being from a generation that felt children should be seen and not heard it was definitely not a child friendly house. It was almost like a mini museum. Starting at the front, I remember a huge tree which we called the banana tree (although it wasnt). It has incredibly smooth grey bark, big glossy green leaves and red flower spikes. And I remember once seeing the most amazingly camouflaged spider in the tree, it matched the grey of the tree precisely and looked like nothing more than a piece of the bark. Also in the front of the house was a loquat tree and we used to gorge on the fruit. I still have a special fondness for loquat.
Walking through the front door, you first entered a small room, the museum part of the house. On the far wall Nanny had a day bed and the two side walls had beautiful cabinet with all sorts of "treasures". The shells were always a favourite with us kids. Dad still has many of them to this day and now they fascinate my children.
From this small receiving room, you went through into in living room. Personally the most memorable thing about this room would have to be the long luscious feathers which once adorned a peacock but now lived in a huge vase. They were amazing and certainly added to the exotic, museum feel about the place.
From the living room you could choose from three doors, Nanny's room, the spare room and the kitchen. As I said before, Nanny and Poppy Tom did a lot of travelling and Nanny's room had all sorts of beautiful things that they had collected in their travels. I remember it being purple (front her quilt cover) and dark even with the light on. To me the most beautiful of all the pieces here was the camphor wood box. The smell of it was incredible, it was like breathing in a lung full of another place. Even now the camphor wood box still has its beautiful smell, and who knows many one day I'll be able to breath in exotic lands again.
The spare room wasnt particularly exciting, I dont think spare rooms ever are but it has to be said that whenever you moved through the hall the sliding mirror in the spare room cupboard would rattle. I can recall that rattle with absolute clarity.
I dont have any long lasting memories of the kitchen although I could probably fairly accurately draw where everything was - table, fridge, sink etc. From the kitchen you would enter the "wet area". This was the laundry with bathroom and toilet off to the side. I remember the laundry being pretty dingy but thats about the extent of that memory. I do remember the bathroom though. When we would have sleep overs obviously we would have a bath and sometimes if we were very lucky we would be able to have one of Nanny's pearly bath oils in the bath. They were so very, very special and it was such a treat to be able to have one.
The bathroom and toilet were on the left of the laundry, to the right was a door to the backyard. You walked down the steps and there was a massive lilac tree next to the house. Sometimes the path would be covered in those squishy, yellow berries that it would drop. And who could forget the "rock garden". A massive mound of rocks, some smooth and some rough, some big and some small. The were a great source of entertainment despite the fact that we really werent suppose to touch them. Right down the very back of the yard was the incinerator. We were allowed to go down there and I didnt like going down there anyway, it was dark and damp and creepy.
Lastly, down the side of the house grew Black-eyed Susan and a purple tubular flower. I remember Nanny's next door neighbour trying to convince me that the fairies in Nanny's garden would come along and turn the Black-eyed Susan into the purple flower. I never did really believe her... but it did always make me wonder.
Who is Roger McMann you ask? To be honest I havent the foggiest, a random collection of thoughts mish-mashed together. But he had dreadlocks, and because he was the inspiration of these memories he deserves a mention too.
Now Roger and his dreadlocks got me wondering about other dreadlocked folk that I know and thus my thoughts turned to Brett and Jason, my cousins. Long, lanky, curly haired folk, I thought, they are most certainly not typical Hudsons. And thinking about the children of the Hudsons, really the only one that would be thought of as a "typical Hudson" as far as appearance goes would be Dale. Now having established this line of reasoning my thoughts started to wander in a different direction.
I started thinking about Nanny. What was life like for her when she was younger? I know that she and Poppy Tom (who passed away before I was born) travelled a lot but I dont know what they did or where they went. All those memories lost and all I have to show for their travels are a moonstone necklace and an amethyst bracelet. Now this got me thinking about my own memories and that of course brought me back to Nanny's house.
It was only a small house but being from a generation that felt children should be seen and not heard it was definitely not a child friendly house. It was almost like a mini museum. Starting at the front, I remember a huge tree which we called the banana tree (although it wasnt). It has incredibly smooth grey bark, big glossy green leaves and red flower spikes. And I remember once seeing the most amazingly camouflaged spider in the tree, it matched the grey of the tree precisely and looked like nothing more than a piece of the bark. Also in the front of the house was a loquat tree and we used to gorge on the fruit. I still have a special fondness for loquat.
Walking through the front door, you first entered a small room, the museum part of the house. On the far wall Nanny had a day bed and the two side walls had beautiful cabinet with all sorts of "treasures". The shells were always a favourite with us kids. Dad still has many of them to this day and now they fascinate my children.
From this small receiving room, you went through into in living room. Personally the most memorable thing about this room would have to be the long luscious feathers which once adorned a peacock but now lived in a huge vase. They were amazing and certainly added to the exotic, museum feel about the place.
From the living room you could choose from three doors, Nanny's room, the spare room and the kitchen. As I said before, Nanny and Poppy Tom did a lot of travelling and Nanny's room had all sorts of beautiful things that they had collected in their travels. I remember it being purple (front her quilt cover) and dark even with the light on. To me the most beautiful of all the pieces here was the camphor wood box. The smell of it was incredible, it was like breathing in a lung full of another place. Even now the camphor wood box still has its beautiful smell, and who knows many one day I'll be able to breath in exotic lands again.
The spare room wasnt particularly exciting, I dont think spare rooms ever are but it has to be said that whenever you moved through the hall the sliding mirror in the spare room cupboard would rattle. I can recall that rattle with absolute clarity.
I dont have any long lasting memories of the kitchen although I could probably fairly accurately draw where everything was - table, fridge, sink etc. From the kitchen you would enter the "wet area". This was the laundry with bathroom and toilet off to the side. I remember the laundry being pretty dingy but thats about the extent of that memory. I do remember the bathroom though. When we would have sleep overs obviously we would have a bath and sometimes if we were very lucky we would be able to have one of Nanny's pearly bath oils in the bath. They were so very, very special and it was such a treat to be able to have one.
The bathroom and toilet were on the left of the laundry, to the right was a door to the backyard. You walked down the steps and there was a massive lilac tree next to the house. Sometimes the path would be covered in those squishy, yellow berries that it would drop. And who could forget the "rock garden". A massive mound of rocks, some smooth and some rough, some big and some small. The were a great source of entertainment despite the fact that we really werent suppose to touch them. Right down the very back of the yard was the incinerator. We were allowed to go down there and I didnt like going down there anyway, it was dark and damp and creepy.
Lastly, down the side of the house grew Black-eyed Susan and a purple tubular flower. I remember Nanny's next door neighbour trying to convince me that the fairies in Nanny's garden would come along and turn the Black-eyed Susan into the purple flower. I never did really believe her... but it did always make me wonder.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Fucking Pregnow (this post will contain huge amounts of swearing...)
Woke up Friday morning to that familiar slight staining and cramping which tells me that its now time to start looking for far more reliable means of contraceptive.
So just for fun and knowing that I would never get to use them again in real life I did a preg test that I had found in a packing box from when I found out about Madam. Needless to say I was a tinsy bit alarmed when I saw a line. Holy shit, this isnt a period this is implantation bleeding. Tinsy bit alarm rapidly excalated to full blown, mind numbing, paralysing sheer panic. Fuck, fuck, fuck - four kids, I didnt even really, really want 3 kids, but 4, no, no, no, NO!!!!!
Hang on, lets look at this logically, FF has never failed me before. OK if I ovulated around the time we last did the deed then I'd be 11dpo - line should be darker. Shit, fuck, shit, crap another miscarriage. But hang on, twice we have conceived with a 4 day cut off, maybe I'm only 8 or 9 dpo line is faint enough for that. But then why the bleeding.
Shit, shit, shit, fuck, shit!!!!!!! Why do these things always happen when the Biggest Feral is away, why, why me *insert pitiful wailing which goes on for a bit, quite uninteresting and awfully repetitive*.
OK, calm down, act rational deep breath. Sleep on it check things out in the morning. At this juncture I would just like to note that the spotting I'd been getting was not getting any worse so immediate assumption implantation bleeding.
4am, fed Madam and given that I could sleep I decided to try another test. Still ambiguous but bleeding definitely not getting any stronger. Pregnancy is looking particularly likely. Oh shit this is making me feel ill. Oh shit, its definite then, I have morning sickness already. Shit, shit, shit. How could we let this happen, how could we be so god damn stupid. We'll need a new car, kids will have to share rooms, damn cramps, I feel like shit. God these cramps are awful, did I have cramping like this with the other, shit I cant remember. My mind has gone blank, oh crap, pregnancy brain is setting in.
Throughout today, its become obvious that "AF" is back and even I can see that "the lines" are evap lines. But dear god, talk about scary the living shit out of me. Never was pregnant, never will be again. No more miscarriages, no more pregnancy, and never, ever, ever again, never will I POAS. And never, ever, ever will I ever, ever again trust a fucking PREGNOW!!!! Lesson learnt. Bring on 5 Nov when Mirena gets inserted.
And just for interests sakes here are the offending tests... did I have a reason to drop my bundle or am I just going senile, you be the judge.
So just for fun and knowing that I would never get to use them again in real life I did a preg test that I had found in a packing box from when I found out about Madam. Needless to say I was a tinsy bit alarmed when I saw a line. Holy shit, this isnt a period this is implantation bleeding. Tinsy bit alarm rapidly excalated to full blown, mind numbing, paralysing sheer panic. Fuck, fuck, fuck - four kids, I didnt even really, really want 3 kids, but 4, no, no, no, NO!!!!!
Hang on, lets look at this logically, FF has never failed me before. OK if I ovulated around the time we last did the deed then I'd be 11dpo - line should be darker. Shit, fuck, shit, crap another miscarriage. But hang on, twice we have conceived with a 4 day cut off, maybe I'm only 8 or 9 dpo line is faint enough for that. But then why the bleeding.
Shit, shit, shit, fuck, shit!!!!!!! Why do these things always happen when the Biggest Feral is away, why, why me *insert pitiful wailing which goes on for a bit, quite uninteresting and awfully repetitive*.
OK, calm down, act rational deep breath. Sleep on it check things out in the morning. At this juncture I would just like to note that the spotting I'd been getting was not getting any worse so immediate assumption implantation bleeding.
4am, fed Madam and given that I could sleep I decided to try another test. Still ambiguous but bleeding definitely not getting any stronger. Pregnancy is looking particularly likely. Oh shit this is making me feel ill. Oh shit, its definite then, I have morning sickness already. Shit, shit, shit. How could we let this happen, how could we be so god damn stupid. We'll need a new car, kids will have to share rooms, damn cramps, I feel like shit. God these cramps are awful, did I have cramping like this with the other, shit I cant remember. My mind has gone blank, oh crap, pregnancy brain is setting in.
Throughout today, its become obvious that "AF" is back and even I can see that "the lines" are evap lines. But dear god, talk about scary the living shit out of me. Never was pregnant, never will be again. No more miscarriages, no more pregnancy, and never, ever, ever again, never will I POAS. And never, ever, ever will I ever, ever again trust a fucking PREGNOW!!!! Lesson learnt. Bring on 5 Nov when Mirena gets inserted.
And just for interests sakes here are the offending tests... did I have a reason to drop my bundle or am I just going senile, you be the judge.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
So proud of my Little Feral
The little Feral has certainly come a long way in the past year but most especially in the last few months. So you can imagine how heartwarming it is to get things like this from him.
He's had a go at writing his name and the person is definitely a discernable person as opposed to just having a scribble. It amazing how much he has learnt and how confident he has become this year. I put it down to having an awesome kindy teacher, I just want to kidnap her and make her teach Feral for the rest of his schooling life she's just that wonderful!!!
Today he had OT with BW (who for the rest of this blog shall be known as BWOT). She's very happy with his progress. Still wants to focus on his auditory memory but his visual memory is superb (he beats the Big Feral and I at memory on a regular basis). He is confident to attempt tasks now which was something he was lacking at one stage.
So all in all I'm thrill with his progress. Hopefully next year with good guidence and support from school he will continue to blossom.
He's had a go at writing his name and the person is definitely a discernable person as opposed to just having a scribble. It amazing how much he has learnt and how confident he has become this year. I put it down to having an awesome kindy teacher, I just want to kidnap her and make her teach Feral for the rest of his schooling life she's just that wonderful!!!Today he had OT with BW (who for the rest of this blog shall be known as BWOT). She's very happy with his progress. Still wants to focus on his auditory memory but his visual memory is superb (he beats the Big Feral and I at memory on a regular basis). He is confident to attempt tasks now which was something he was lacking at one stage.
So all in all I'm thrill with his progress. Hopefully next year with good guidence and support from school he will continue to blossom.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
The Tenth Cirle of Hell???
Dante bought to the world the Nine Circles of Hell. However Dante, being male and living in the 14th century was unable to comment on the Tenth Circle of Hell - Motherhood involving 3 Children and a Photographer. If I thought the other week was bad, well was I in for a shock today.
Firstly, like many of the levels in Dantes Epic, this has a number of sub-layers. The first sub-layer involves getting out of the house on time, a relatively simple task for most but one which still seems to escape me. The hellish part is the fact that I hate, hate, hate being late for things, it makes me feel terrible and guilty. The thing is I was really quite organised this morning and I still left 15 minutes later than I wanted too.
The next ditch in this layer involves traffic. Why is it when you are already running late, everyone else is too? Or does it just seem that way because you are running late? Thats a question for Dante to ponder on while we move onto the next place which is of course...
The dreaded looking for a parking spot. Last time I got through this particular minefield pretty easily. It was so not to be this time round. It makes me wonder why businesses like this choose trendy, inner city places which are impossible to park in. It doesnt make the experience any nicer for the client and if that client happens to be me it simply adds to my frustration and general pissed off attitude.
Now those ditches are pretty tame in comparison to the next lot. The next 3 layers are for the ultimate evil doers.
The first is the actual photo shoot itself. At this point relatively normal, generally ok-ish kids will turn into horrible little devils whose heads spin whilst uttering every sort of profanity known to Motherhood (ie the word NO). Smiles will be non-existant, tempers will be thrown, generalise chaos will reign supreme. You get the idea.
The next level, even more sinister is "the viewing". See above for general outline of behaviour, just a different room with less toys LOL.
And finally the ultimate pit, the darkest well of dispair - THE BILL!!!!!!!
Of course assuming that you manage to negotiate your way through this, you are blessed with beautiful children with perfect manners who calmly and nicely say goodbye to the photographer and all is once again well with the world. WTF!!!!! Why do they put on the nice act once its time to go, why, why, why does that always happen?
Of course in conclusion it could probably be noted that Dante called his epic The Divine Comedy... isnt that what motherhood is all about. Maybe I should give Dante more credit.
Firstly, like many of the levels in Dantes Epic, this has a number of sub-layers. The first sub-layer involves getting out of the house on time, a relatively simple task for most but one which still seems to escape me. The hellish part is the fact that I hate, hate, hate being late for things, it makes me feel terrible and guilty. The thing is I was really quite organised this morning and I still left 15 minutes later than I wanted too.
The next ditch in this layer involves traffic. Why is it when you are already running late, everyone else is too? Or does it just seem that way because you are running late? Thats a question for Dante to ponder on while we move onto the next place which is of course...
The dreaded looking for a parking spot. Last time I got through this particular minefield pretty easily. It was so not to be this time round. It makes me wonder why businesses like this choose trendy, inner city places which are impossible to park in. It doesnt make the experience any nicer for the client and if that client happens to be me it simply adds to my frustration and general pissed off attitude.
Now those ditches are pretty tame in comparison to the next lot. The next 3 layers are for the ultimate evil doers.
The first is the actual photo shoot itself. At this point relatively normal, generally ok-ish kids will turn into horrible little devils whose heads spin whilst uttering every sort of profanity known to Motherhood (ie the word NO). Smiles will be non-existant, tempers will be thrown, generalise chaos will reign supreme. You get the idea.
The next level, even more sinister is "the viewing". See above for general outline of behaviour, just a different room with less toys LOL.
And finally the ultimate pit, the darkest well of dispair - THE BILL!!!!!!!
Of course assuming that you manage to negotiate your way through this, you are blessed with beautiful children with perfect manners who calmly and nicely say goodbye to the photographer and all is once again well with the world. WTF!!!!! Why do they put on the nice act once its time to go, why, why, why does that always happen?
Of course in conclusion it could probably be noted that Dante called his epic The Divine Comedy... isnt that what motherhood is all about. Maybe I should give Dante more credit.
Photo session take 2
Hi Clag
We'll be heading off for photos shortly. This is a take 2 due to the fact that the first photo shoot was an absolute debarcle. Picture this (no pun intended)... 1 right little "I'll smile for no one" Madam, 1 little feral putting on his very, very best terrible two performance and 1 big feral doing his well they are so I will too act. All in all not particularly condusive to gorgeous, long lasting memories, more like hair-tearing, tear inducing nightmares.
So we shall see what today brings, I live in eternal optimisim that all will be well.
We'll be heading off for photos shortly. This is a take 2 due to the fact that the first photo shoot was an absolute debarcle. Picture this (no pun intended)... 1 right little "I'll smile for no one" Madam, 1 little feral putting on his very, very best terrible two performance and 1 big feral doing his well they are so I will too act. All in all not particularly condusive to gorgeous, long lasting memories, more like hair-tearing, tear inducing nightmares.
So we shall see what today brings, I live in eternal optimisim that all will be well.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Scarred for life maybe
Gee I must have been horrifically scarred by the whole "lost house" debarcle, I havent come here to visit in over 18 months. Much has changed since then Clag because while "lost house" was nice OUR NEW HOUSE is a million times better. Yes you read that correctly Clag - OUR NEW HOUSE ie the house we currently reside in, the house which currently sucks us dry (LOL) and the house where our two ferals and darling little madam play and scream and fight and....
...oh didnt you know that either... yes my ultimate dream has come true, I have a darling baby girl and she is absolutely gorgeous. Born end of May 2007, Little Madam is quite delightful.
Well I'm glad we've had this little catchup Clag. And honestly I will definitely try and do better. You know me dont you old matey (yeah only too well I'm sure).
...oh didnt you know that either... yes my ultimate dream has come true, I have a darling baby girl and she is absolutely gorgeous. Born end of May 2007, Little Madam is quite delightful.
Well I'm glad we've had this little catchup Clag. And honestly I will definitely try and do better. You know me dont you old matey (yeah only too well I'm sure).
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