Checking In

I feel like I've haven't posted for AGES.  But, in reality, it's only been a few days.  Go figure.  I think the reason I feel like this, is that I haven't posted "personally" as such for a long time?  Well, here's a catch up on what's been happening in this corner of the world for the past few months.....

My kids are growing up.  Like, seriously growing up, and out, and around.  We've celebrated a couple of birthdays..... Cadyn's cricket cake was a hit, and Chloe had a Rainbow themed party for her 5th birthday - and it was an absolute blast!

My biggest boy had his Confirmation.  Seeing him look so smart in his "proper" trousers, a dress shirt and tie almost killed me!  He's so grown up!

And Ms Chelsea?  Well, she is finding a style all on her own!  At ten years of age, she is able to walk out of the house in some "interesting" fashion choices, and works them like nobody's business!  Although her mood swings and delightful eye-rolling are driving us all insane, she is certainly growing up to be a fabulous individual.

Apart from the kids, I have been kept busy with work and a little bit of play.  I'm over my strange little bout of mystery illness that saw me spend a couple of days sitting in hospital, but still curious to find out what on earth caused it.  My husband has put money on stress......

And yes, I have been stressed.  I've been going through a - up til now- rather private battle.  A battle with the much maligned mental illness.  Not my own, but my sister's.  I've said before that it's not my story to tell, however, this past few months have given me my own story - one of a sibling struggling to keep their head above water, whilst paddling relentlessly, and not getting anywhere fast.

I am almost consumed by the need to help my darling sister and her beautiful little family.  I just want things to be better.  To be calm.  But I'm finding it's a battle that just isn't there for me to win.  It's something that yes, I can help to facilitate, but no - I can't fix it.  And that's hard to swallow.....

But on a brighter note......I thank my husband every. single. day.  Many years ago, he told me I needed a hobby.  My interests at that time were relegated to sitting on the lounge watching Oprah and Dr Phil, whilst wrangling multiple young children and a part time job.  The need for library bags and art smocks, when my Chelsea girl was starting primary school, has literally saved my sanity.  It was the beginning of a hobby that had been in hiding for almost 20 years.  I grew up watching my Mum sew.  Day and night.  It was her day job (she worked for many years in the wardrobe department at Dreamworld!), but it was also (and still is) her beloved hobby.

Library bags and smocks lead to frills and frocks.  The frills and frocks lead to quilts.  And the quilts have now lead me to a place of sheer bliss.  Sewing, and quilting, is my saving grace.  It's the place I go to when I need clarity.  When I need to just sit and chill - and the only worry I have is fabric placement and thread choices.

So thank you dear husband.  For the hobby that you told me I needed.  And the hobby I asked you the other night whether you regretted I had?  Your answer was perfect.....

"If it makes you happy"

***  P.S.  To all of the wonderful people who have left comments on my last few posts - I truly appreciate you taking the time to give me your encouragement and cheer me on in my sewing and quilting efforts! I literally have not had time to sit down and reply to all of you - so please forgive me!  I shall be back to replying asap. xxxx

Chapters of 2012

Just when you think you're drained, something else happens and it starts all over again.  Yesterday was a taxing day, the end to a taxing week.  I thought by the time I had finally gone to sleep last night, I'd shed some good tears, and had a good de-brief with my husband, so today would be the start of another week.  Fail.

This morning brought a phone call.  I had just bought a few plants and was madly trying to plant them before Chloe's dentist appt when it started raining.  So I jumped in the car and saw I had a missed call - from my Dad.  Strange.  I called him straight back and then came the beginning of the next chapter of the tale that is 2012.

Dad has had what they think is a heart attack - on Sunday.  He's been in hospital since then, but thought he'd wait til he found out what was going on before letting me know.  Thoughtful yes?  Anyway, turns out the old man's heart is blocked to within an inch of life and he now requires triple bypass surgery.  I sat in the driver's seat of my car whilst his lady friend filled me in on what had been happening.  There are some if's and but's, because you see, Dad has been a heavy smoker for some 50 odd years.  And he also has a lot of chest congestion, which does not make him the prime candidate for serious kick arse surgery.  So it's a little old waiting game. 

I was very brave, I uttered a few "ah-huh's" and a couple of "okay's", but I really just wanted to cry.  My Dad is sitting in a hospital 1345 kilometres away (yes I did just google that statistic!) waiting for a thumbs up, or down, to surgery.  All three of his children are interstate.  And his lady friend tells me that if he has the surgery, he will need full time care for two weeks afterwards - translated to: Your Dad needs you.

I tried calling my sister.  No luck.  I rang my Mum, who hasn't been married to my Dad for over 25 years, and told her to call my brother.  And then I just got on with it.  I got on with cancelling his flights down here in October, that I only booked last week.  I rang Andrew and filled him in.  I began the mind boggling task of working out how on earth I would be able to drop everything here and relocate to The Gold Coast for a week or so?

My sister called me back.  We came up with a plan.  I cried and gave her a serve for being a smoker.  I cried and told her that my family were all going to die because they make stupid choices and that I will be left all alone.  I went to a funeral exactly one week ago for a beautiful woman who died basically from smoking.  It was very close to home.  I cried and told her I was sick of having unreliable siblings.  And she apologised.  And we laughed.

My brother called back.  He agreed to the plan but won't be an active participant because he can't leave the state at present.  I'll leave that with you to put two and two together.  But he did offer to listen to me when I was balling my eyes out.

I called Dad back.  Relayed our plan to him.  Assured him that if and when he has surgery, I will fly up there, rent an apartment (Nope, I won't be caring for him in his caravan!) and care for him and then my sister will fly up and we'll play tag team so she can take the second half of the job.  I think he was a tad speechless.  But very grateful.

I only re-connected with my Dad about nine years ago, which I sort of wrote about HERE.  I'm just a little bit worried that things may not go well and I will once again, be Father-less.

I'm TRYING to be positive!  And I'm ever so grateful for an amazing bunch of human beings who just happen to be my friends for sending me wonderful little messages of support!  Including this little gem....

I know I'm a lucky girl.  But sometimes, just sometimes, I would like some time to breath between chapters.  Just a little.

Oh Brother

I have a brother.  This is a fact that is quite easily forgotten by many and will more than likely be news to others.  In fact, I was telling a workmate today about this drafted post and she was rather intrigued about this brother she had not heard of - we have been working together for years.  He is my younger brother by three years.  So a little brother to two big sisters.  When those who know I have a brother, ask me about him, the general reply is "I have no idea where he is at the moment, or what he is doing".  And that's the truth.

He called me the other day.  I don't think I had heard from him in about a year, so it was a pleasant surprise.  I never know when it is him calling, because I don't have a saved phone number for him in my phone.  Every time I save his number, it is superseded by a new number - so what's the point?  Anyway, I digress.  My Mum had told me he'd found a place to live, which is great.  I told her to tell him that we had a garage full of stuff we didn't want, including a fridge, that he was welcome to - hence the phone call.

Yesterday morning rolled around, and my "little" brother arrived in a white van, ready to fill it.  We got to work and within five minutes, he had a fridge, coffee table and two book shelves.  I threw in an oil heater for free!  Oh hang on, it was all free!  He was stoked.  As we stood in the drizzling rain, chatting, I couldn't help but stare at this man, and wonder who he really was?  How did it happen that in 34 years of knowing this guy, I really didn't know him?  I stared at his features, and recognised the freckles and the shape of his face.  But what I missed was the sparkle in his eyes.  He used to have the most beautiful blue/grey eyes, and now they are dull.  It makes me sad.

I have two siblings - I am the middle child - and both of them could not be any more chalk to my cheese.  We have all lived extremely different lives, the result of many circumstances, however mostly of choice.  I describe myself as "the white sheep" of the family.  For I, in many ways, am the odd one out.

Growing up, I never would have dreamt the three of us would lead the different and varied lives we have.  But it is my normal.  I have an older sister whom I have only become close to in the past five to ten years.  By close I mean we live in neighbouring suburbs, and when we do chat on the odd occasion, it's usually quite lengthy and deep.  I am fiercely protective of her.  And I have a younger brother I share nothing in common with, except that we come from the same DNA, and that despite everything, we still say "Love you" at the end of each out of blue phone call.

Families are very funny things.  We are only three siblings, and all are so completely different.  I know this is not a rare occurrence.  I know each and every family has its differences, it's strange dynamics.  But I also know that I have learnt not to dwell on them.  It is what it is.  And it's probably not as strange as I used to think it was!

So for now, I'll be happy for a half emptied garage, a quick chat and the knowledge that he has a roof over his head and a fridge to keep his milk cold.  No expectations means no disappointment yes?

Do you have siblings?  And what is your Normal?