What happens when we put too much pressure on mothers?
Once after having 1 child I asked my dad how on earth my nanna did it with 11?
My dad responded that she wasn't given half the pressures I was.
She didn't have to go to the bank, the supermarket everyday, she wasn't expected to look a million bucks straight after birth and she never put pressure on her kids to have reached all of their miles stones by the age of 3 weeks, have the house clean and own a thermomix..
She just hung out with her kids and enjoyed them.
So how do we do it, with all of the pressure we are put under?
Well a lot of us don't actually enjoy our kids, we are only half present for them all of the time due to the constant pressure to have everything perfect.
To go to the gym, answer that email, pay that bill, cook that organic kale, blend it, get it into a patty so no one knows it's kale, get to the doctors.... The washing! Petrol in the car.... colour your god dam greys! Make the kids lunches cos if you order them again you will be JUDGED!
Meanwhile we are losing the time to be present the with our children, half listening to them, preoccupied, nodding along while our brains are thinking "fuck now Video Easy is taking legal action on that $12 fine"
Yesterday in a seminar we did an experiment, we partnered up and told a story, half way through the story our partners were ordered to stop listening. They looked away, yawned, preoccupied their minds, replied to an email while we were telling them something we believed interesting.
And guess how it made me feel? Boring, embarrassed for not being able to interest anyone, unworthy and insignificant.
Is that what this busy life is making my kids feel?
Today I woke up with a desire to take a deep breath and let it all go, I don't really care about the new blinds I had ordered or making the house decent so that my mates don't think I've lost the plot.
But I really care about my time with my kids and how they feel about themselves.
And I'm not going to let outside pressures and "Super mum" ideals take that away from me. 👊🏽👑
After finishing a rugby league game recently, the kids at Cooma North Public school were heading back to the bus when they noticed an 81-year-old man trying to move a huge pile of wood. Without hesitation, the boys and their families decided to help him out, finishing the job in no time. What little legends! (Credit: Facebook/Cooma North Public School) #9Today
RANT Warning: If you are feeling up and positive and don’t want to think about the dark side, please don’t read this post.
Most days I can see the bright side, most of the time I feel grateful for what I have, but there are days when I just get fed up. I don’t normally talk about the sucky side of my experience here, because I don’t want this to be a place of negativity, but enough is enough, I have had it up to here with cancer and it’s time to drop my lolly.
There are the obvious things about cancer, the nausea and fatigue, the hair loss and the pain. Then there are the things we don’t talk about. I haven’t had a normal shit in 6 years. It’s always constipation from the pain medication, or the opposite from the medication to offset that. I have been going through chemically induced menopause since I was 33, the hot flushes are unbearable and the night sweats so bad that I sometimes have to change all of my bedding several times a night. I now have to wear continence aids because I keep wetting myself. The vomiting is unpredictable, I don’t know if I will keep down each meal. My legs are swelling so much that I can’t walk, so I have to wear compression bandages that are tight, difficult to put on, expensive and hot (and not terribly attractive). Same with my right arm, after having 36 lymph nodes removed. I’m scared to leave the house because I don’t want to wet myself in public, or end up in a gutter throwing up. And it might seem trivial to worry about being bald, but I hate not having hair, I feel self-conscious and can’t stand the sight of myself. I have covered all the mirrors in the house so I don’t accidentally see myself and get that brutal reminder that I have cancer. I take a minimum of 28 tablets per day, each one of them is a reminder that the only reason I am alive is because of all the medication. I am always tired, even when I first wake up. Just walking to the toilet is an effort sometimes. My tastebuds have gone haywire, so food doesn’t have a taste. It’s hard to be enthusiastic about anything that just feels like cardboard in your mouth. There are constant trips to hospital, mostly as an outpatient, thankfully, but I am so sick of that place, and I am going to have to spend more and more time there as the disease progresses. There is constant fear. Fear that each little ache and pain is more cancer, and fear that the cancer is winning. Then on top of that I have to listen to people tell me that if I eat apricot kernels or marijuana cookies I will be cured and that pharmaceutical companies are hiding the cure because they want to keep making money off chemo. It’s ridiculous. They could charge heaps more for a cure than they could ever charge for current medications. Let’s face it, I would double mortgage my house, and sell my soul to buy a cure! And then I get told that if I think positively I will beat it. Once cancer has metastasised it is NOT curable. I will not survive this cancer. No matter how positive I am, I will die of this disease. The best I can hope for is to live a bit longer, knowing that the life I do get to squeeze in will be full of appointments, waiting rooms, needles, medication, and side effects. And I am one of the lucky ones, I have been able to live longer than expected because there was a drug that stabilised my cancer for a long time.
Sorry to whinge. I don’t want sympathy. I just want to acknowledge how cruel and relentless cancer is. How hard it is to live with. I thank you for your support, and I do understand how fortunate I am to be so loved and well supported. Heaps of people have cancer. But they don’t all have the joy of two beautiful, healthy, happy boys, a brother like Sam and Dave and sisters like Hilde and Em. They don’t all have a village to inspire them to find the best in life. They don’t all have the security of a roof over their heads. They don’t all have the peace that their kids will be well loved, and guided through life with their other parent after they die. They don’t all have great friends like Mike. Some people have to work until the very end because they can’t afford not to. How I wish I could turn back time, and insist to the GPs that I saw in the year before my diagnosis that I needed a scan to rule out cancer when I first noticed the lumps. Maybe then my cancer wouldn’t have spread and become fatal. Maybe then I would have been treated for early breast cancer and be back at work now. Maybe then this rant would be about being overworked and underpaid, not being able to find a carpark, or the cost of groceries. Thanks for reading. I’m done now. This rant has cleansed me of my anger and now I can get on with my day. To the families of all the people who have not had the luxury of living this long (even with a life of sickness), I mean no disrespect, and I do acknowledge that I am very lucky to have survived long enough to see my kids get more than half way through primary school. I know that your loved ones would have tolerated all that I am whinging about and more just to have extra time with their families and friends. To all the awesome Love Your Sister Villagers, thank you for your support and love, it really does make a big difference to my quality of life, and please know that I really appreciate you all. And thanks for raising funds to find better cancer treatments and possibly cures so that future generations won’t have to go through all of this stuff.
XXConnie #IHATECancer #FindaCureFundaCure #CancerRant #checkyourboobs #checkyourballs P.S. I’m going back to bed now, and I will try to find the right side of it to get out of after my nap. :)
Detective Inspector Gary Jubelin told A Current Affair he believed William was still alive because there was no evidence to suggest he’d been killed. As it has not even been established if William is in fact deceased, a coronial inquiry will ONLY take place after the current Police investigation has been completed.
Conducted by the dedicated Strike Force Rosann, the investigation has identified hundreds of persons of interest. With the commitment of Premier Mike Baird that his government would provide any resource¬ the investigation needs, the scale and structure of the investigation is unprecedented and incorporates detectives from other specialist squads, as well as officers from local area commands across the state who have also been assigned to work on the case.
1 Million dollars is on the table for the person who can lead Police to William. So, if you are the person who knows what happened to William, it’s time to come forward! Make the call! Call Crime Stoppers now before Police call on you! 1800 333 000 #OneMillionReasons, #BringHimHome, #BringWilliamHome, #MakeTheCall, #WheresWilliam, #NowsTheTime
Went shopping for a new dress, was happily browsing the racks when the shop assistant says, "Sorry darling those racks are size 6s and 8s only, the other racks will be better for you"
Hiding my offence I replied, "That's cool. I AM a size 6."
And that's when we shared one of those awkward moments, the ones where she knows I'm lying, I know that she knows that I'm lying, she knows that I know that she knows that I'm lying... And I grabbed a size 6 dress to try on..
Feeling under enthused with the unsurprising results I returned from the change room and told her that the colour did nothing for me.
She responded with, "Wow, you are one of those beautiful women that I would think suits every colour"
Hmmmmm. It would appear that she is not the arsehole.... I am.
She wasn't body shaming my delicious #mummob she was being practical, it was ME who body shamed myself by taking offence!!!!!!
Today was a reminder that NO dress sizes are BETTER then any OTHER.
From 1 December 2016, P2 licence holders (green p plates) will no longer be permitted to use ANY function of a mobile phone while driving or riding. P2 licence holders will have the same restrictions as learner and P1 licence holders. This includes phones in the hands-free mode, with the loudspeaker operating, playing music and using GPS.