Possibly last chat for 6 days..how will you all cope??

Queues

security checks

bags through

rumbling across the conveyor

oops..really?

no throw them out

nail scissors

ech

observing

celebrities

the cafe staff

have a nice day..have a nice day

robots

flight calls

brew slurped

happiness

trepidation

possibly no wifi

living in a tree

probably expected

how shall I cope?

just perhaps

get over it and enjoy?

smiles

 

 

So I may be off the air altogether.

Mumma penguin not a happy girl this morning, in fact I think she took herself back to England and the War..       😦

I am trying to just let it be and swing through those tree tops..or possibly not..

Try not to miss me ya’all.

xx

 

Today’s chat

Warmth of the dimly lit room

music playing softly

Warm fluffy robe

bare feet in warm water, I wait

the massage begins, then

onto the table, clothed in

warm towels

back, shoulders, legs

arms, neck, face

remedial and relaxation

hot towels

relaxed

wake up?

has it been an hour?

must I?

lunch with girlfriend

laughs, window shopping

back home

painting still continuing

back tender from the hands

that brought such pleasure

relaxed, read the wording

of the Service to the daughter

happiness

text comes through

mum in hospital

washing brought in

tripppps on the grass

broken right arm

near shoulder

visit tomorrow after Service

bring essentials in

Oh My Goodness

 

Yes,  just when I thought things were picking up, mum has a fall this evening.

They don’t wish to operate at 85, it’s too risky. She will be in plaster for quite some weeks and it’s her right arm…yup I can read what you’re all thinking..

 

 

 

 

 

Time for My Weekend That Was. (Pull up a chair)

What a few days it has been, I have been absent all weekend until now.
Pop wasn’t well on Thursday, I won’t go into the details…but put it this way – he needs a proper diet and to move around more than he is doing at present. He also fell out of bed 😦 2nd fall in 9 days. I spent Friday with them, giving him juices to drink and trying to get him better for the Saturday (yesterday) and his youngest Grandson’s Wedding.

Friday night we had plans in place, they were booked for the hairdressers (early 7.30am) god awful hour to be up, but they are early risers. We, Mr. S and I were to pick them up at 2.45 Saturday to drive them to the Wedding.

Later that night it all turned sour, we cancelled the taxi for the hairdressers. I tucked Pop into bed, putting a hot water bottle on his tummy, putting a wheat pack on his back to help his discomfort. I told him I would trim his hair if he was able to go and also blow wave mums (last minute strategies in place). I sat down along side him on the bed and he said “what would I do without you, but I am so over living like this”. I told him, he isn’t going anywhere yet and to work to gain his strength back.

Saturday morning and the phone call came saying he’s not any better and they couldn’t go 😦

Mr. S and I drove up to the Winery, a little windy but the sun was shining. My nephew Shaun standing nervously in the gazebo waiting for his bride to appear. The bridesmaids walked down and then Emma his gorgeous bride. I watched my young nephew, put his hand to his chest and mouth WOW. Yes, I started with the tears then. She looked stunning (as all brides do). They exchanged vows, they placed the rings, their photos were taken. We were asked for the family shot, with heals sinking into the lawn we smiled and tried to balance.

We then went stood on the decking overlooking the beautiful Winery and had canapes and champers. I could go on and on about the night how perfect everything was, but I would possible bore you all to tears even further.

I phoned mum and Pop throughout the night to see how they were.

The next door neighbour answered the phone, then got mum, who then couldn’t explain and put Pop on the phone…. he had another fall in the shower. She tried to lift him up but couldn’t. The neighbours couldn’t as they have bad backs, so they called the SES…. now for those who don’t know the SES this stands for State Emergency Services… they help out in storms etc removing fallen trees and the like. I DO NOT KNOW why they called them and not the Ambulance.

Poor Pop was then lifted out of the shower with some device onto a stretcher, they then called the Ambo’s and back he went to the Hospital. They did the battery of tests as last time and nothing showing as to why he fell. I was in tears outside at the venue, as I spoke to him, friends and daughters came to my aid. They were wonderful.

Today I went over there at 7.45am…got to sleep at 1am…. I am so tired right now. He has no injuries apart from his pride a little from being ‘hoisted like a tree trunk’ as he put it from the shower stark naked.

So there was so much happiness mixed with sadness yesterday. We (my brother and I ) have instigated talks about more care being required … tis a good thing.

2 other things upset me yesterday – I have a beautiful marquee set gold diamond ring, I had it enlarged a few weeks ago to fit another finger and wore it out once 2 weeks ago. I went to put it on yesterday and…no diamond. I cried, I bought this for myself as a 40th birthday present. I don’t know if it’s possible that the jeweller did something to the claws that held the diamond, but I am visiting him tomorrow to ask.

The other thing… both my girls looked amazing at the Wedding and mum didn’t take a photo 😦 Hopefully when we get a copy of the group shot I shall be able to put up. So disappointed, but I guess it’s not like they aren’t going to ever ‘dress-up’ ever again.

Mumsy
xx

Losing touch – come back to me Mum

I see that glazed look
in your old eyes
the eyes that hold tears
wear and tear
from life
I feel your struggle
for recognition
of the past you
once knew
conversations had
Longing glances
to the distance
eye contact barely given
comprehension difficult
of those around you
your eyes can see, I saw you
yesterday, yet you had forgotten
Disinterest
feelings of loss
your life now changed
a burden you feel
to yourself and to others 
Like fitting the pieces of the
jig-saw puzzle
the pieces don’t seem
to fit anymore
trying to recollect
events of yesterday, or just a minute prior

Below is whom I write about tonight, her memory fades a little more each day and there is not a damn thing I can do to help her. If you wish to read a little more about this ‘English Rose’ that is my mum- please click on the below.

https://ramblingsfromamum.wordpress.com/2012/10/26/this-is-the-lady-my-mum/

Becoming a Mum…male followers you have my permission to retreat

I was reading one of the Blogs that I follow http://wonderlandbytatu.wordpress.com

A mum with 2 children, whose honesty like so many others mums I follow and love inspired me to do this… an excerpt from my Memoir (through Amazon and Lulu if anyone is interested in reading further).

24th March 1983

Here I am lying in bed in the hospital. I am to be induced tomorrow morning at 8 a.m. I have had the obligatory enema and mini shave, thinking, “My God, this is only the beginning of any embarrassment or degradationtomorrow morning I will bearing much more to the world.

At 5 a.m. on the 25th March, I woke up in a hospital bed and was served a mandatory cup of tea by a smiling, whispering nurse. By 7.35 a.m. I was wheeled into the delivery room. As I lay on the pristine, starched white sheets, staring at the ceiling and the fluorescent lights above me, my thoughts were ones of terror. I was now scared to death as to what lay before me. To make things worse, the paediatrician who was supposed to guide me through the birth with the hypnotherapy did not arrive, so the prospect of going through childbirth “à la natural” was now frightening me beyond belief.

I was placed on the drip at 8.40 a.m. To the hour, my first contraction hit at 9.40 a.m. Even though the paediatrician had given me a few lessons on self-hypnotherapy, I could not concentrate long enough to guide myself through it. The idea of a needle protruding through my arm now seemed far more preferable to labour.

By 2 p.m., the contractions were physically overpowering me and I didn’t think I could handle much more. I tried everything I could to ease the pain; lying on one side, then on the other, knees bent up to my chest, straightened legs, on all fours, standing leaning over the bed, grabbing hold of the sheets, walking around the bed, squeezing John’s hand till I almost drew blood.

The pain of childbirth, though mercifully and miraculously erased so quickly in one’s mind after the event, looms like an undefeatable spectre when you are in the throes of it. My original intent to try for a drug-free birth ended up with me screaming, “OK, I give in! Give me an epidural!” I don’t even think I said please!

Fortunately for John I didn’t yell abuse at him, as some women are known to do. I pitied him standing beside me. He was helpless, looking upon my writhing body that seemed possessed by demonic forces.

“Do you want ice chips to suck on, darling? Would you like a shoulder rub? A back rub? Or should I just leave the room perhaps and come back when you’re done?”

The straightforward truth is that no matter what a husband might suggest or offer in his endeavor to try and alleviate your misery, he cannot help you. You are alone in the battle. You are the one who is grimacing, panting, squirming and bearing the discomfort and the pain. And when you look up at his unhappy face, knowing that he probably wishes he were anywhere else but watching you, all you can do for each other is hold hands.

The anaesthetist came in; I rolled onto my left side and he inserted a needle into my back. By this stage a small pin-prick in my spine was more inviting than a glass of champers and a full body massage administered by George Clooney. It was miraculous how quickly the epidural took effect. With each contraction, although I felt some sensation, I felt no pain and only the overwhelming desire to push, usually at inappropriate intervals when I should have been panting. My doctor arrived at 4.55 p.m., and with the help of forceps and my legs high in the stirrups, baring all and sundry to the brightly lit room, my baby daughter entered this world, weighing in at 7lb (3.175kgs).

Here was this tiny human being we had created. A miracle, perfection in every way, with ten fingers and ten toes, her head covered with dark hair, her body coated in vernix. I was overcome with a euphoria you feel after you have given birth, one of life’s natural highs that you could never dream to be possible. She was placed on my stomach as I cried tears of excitement, joy and gratitude for how beautiful and perfect she was.

We had decided to call her Lauren, and now that we beheld her tiny face, the name seemed to fit her exactly.

When she was taken away for the “cleaning up” process, John and I were left alone to exchange private words and to somehow articulate the event that had just taken place. In the space of those moments, we tried to come to grips with the fact that we now had a daughter, that we were now not a couple but a family, and to contemplate how our lives would change forever.

Even though I was totally exhausted, I could not settle and was absolutely famished. I tucked into a huge plate of sandwiches and a cup of tea while Lauren was attended to by the nursing staff. She was then brought back to us and shortly afterwards was put to my breast to suckle the colostrum. All I wanted to do from this moment on was to hold her close, look at her, touch her and smell her. I felt an instant and unshakable determination to love this little person unconditionally from the very first time she was handed to me, wrapped snuggly in the baby blankets that I had bought months before. My instinct told me that all I wanted on this earth was to be able to protect her from this day onwards from any harm or misfortune, for as long as humanly possible.

This is the Lady – My Mum

Mum

I have written about my Pop but not Mum…so it’s her turn tonight.

This is the English Rose at my daughters Wedding 3 years ago.

This is the lady who says now she’s not beautiful & that growing old means people “look at you as though you are stupid or they don’t understand you, or have patience for you”.

This is the lady who gets frustrated by not being able to do what she did in her younger years.

This is the lady who suffered a fall a couple of years ago and now has difficulty walking (one of my little penguins).

BUT  This is the lady that brought me into this world.

This is the lady who held my hand to cross the roads.

This is the lady that looked after my children, so I could work.

This is the lady that took care of me when I was sick, or had a bad back & couldn’t tend to my daughter.

This is the lady who has supported me and my family with her unconditional love & affection.

This is the lady whom I have laughed with and shared tears with.

This is the lady that I have argued with & fought with.

This is lady who can say a sharp word or two to me if she feels the need.

This is the lady who has shared so much love for other people.

This is the lady that has such a good and giving soul.

This is the lady I look up to & admire for her strength & her courage to leave her home of England and come to Australia for a better life, knowing that breaking away from her parents was the hardest thing she could do.

This is the lady who has shown so much commitment and unquestionable love to my father.

This is the woman that lays Pops clothes on the bed of what he is to wear every day and continues to do so, because she thinks he can’t colour coordinate (though everything is beige) 🙂

This is the lady who bares no grudges towards anybody.

This is a lady who was told she should start her own cake business as she is a brilliant cook.

This is a lady who held ‘simple’ dinner parties for 20 people without blinking an eye.

This is the lady that was a brilliant hostess.

This is a lady that went back to work, standing on a cold concrete factory floor to work on a production line so that she could save some extra money to take my brother to England for a visit to see his Grandparents.

This is the lady that will have glassy eyes when helping Pop up from his chair.

This is the lady who lost her youngest son eight years ago and bares the grief silently within her heart.

This is the lady who has been a loving & giving person not only to myself but to her grandchildren.

This is a lady with so much pride & strength that sometimes I think she forgets that she has any.

This is a lady that looks at us with love as only mothers can.

…Yes we may have ‘words’ now and then…we are Mother & Daughter.

…Yes we may not often see eye to eye on things.

…Yes we are both different ..but in so many ways so alike .

…Yes you have grown older..but I have too.

…Yes I am proud of you, admire you, value you, adore you.

… Yes but most of all I AM THANKFUL that you are my MUM & I treasure now more than ever having you with me still..

So do not think for one moment that you aren’t beautiful because my darling English Rose YOU ARE NOW and always will be to me…

I LOVE YOU

xxxxxxxxx

Memories of Past – Yes more old photos..time to run

My Grandparents were English. The below is my Grandparents wedding day, I never got to meet my Grandfather. I was fortunate to meet my Grandmother when I was in England (when I was 18) but she sadly passed away whilst I was over there. I love the dresses and the stoic look on their faces. Obviously ‘one’ didn’t smile for the camera in those days.

My Grandparents Wedding 029

then they did

Grandparents 1952030

I don’t have many photos of me as a child. Brother 1st born stole the limelight…no kidding he did..no I am kidding. When mum and dad came out to Australia they didn’t own a camera so a friend of theirs took most of the photos of him.. by the time I came along 2 years later, the friend had moved ..and well they still didn’t have a camera..    yes whose a little tubby – and pick me in the torn photo…

jenny2                                    Pick Me004

My Dad – Affectionately ‘Pop’

For my Pop,

This is what I wrote & read to my father not so long ago.

For the last few months I have thought more and more about wanting to sit with you and say what I am about to. Instead I being the writer have written those words and will read it, as hopefully I shall find this easier.

What can a daughter say to her father, that I love you totally? Admire your courage to survive your upbringing, your strength to conquer against all odds your escape during the war. Your tenacity to fight for a better life, not only for yourself but for my mother and your children.

You are a man of dignity and honesty. You have been and still are a wonderful husband to mum and a truly devoted and loving father to your children. You have always been there to support and encourage and give me much-needed advice. You have been the disciplinarian when needed when I was younger, the confidant as I grew and the person I could rely on.

Every daughter will say their father is the best, but of you it is true. It is a pity we don’t ‘know’ the man before they became our father, as I would have liked to have known you in your youth, or a young man, but then again are you so different from then to now? As life rolls by I have so many memories of you and my life is the better for it. I would not change one moment, nor one day.

I have wanted to say these things to you for sometime and even though I pray with my entire being that you will be with me for many years to come, reality means that may not be so. This is why I say this to you now, because I do not want to miss the opportunity of not being able to tell you. I adore you Pop, you will always be with me on this earth or when your time comes to leave it. Perhaps believe in the ever after, so that I can still talk to you and know that you are around me. No words shall comfort my grief or pain when you are not here to talk to or laugh with. I shall remember playing childhood games with you, I shall remember sharing a loaf of bread and a full piece of salami in a car with you and not having anything to cut them with. Our memories will being a smile to my heart. I love you unconditionally and respect you as my father and as a human being.

You have brought me up well and taught me well and for that I am eternally grateful.

You are in my heart and so much a part of me, that tears well in my eyes as I write these words.

But I wanted to say them – had to say them. I am so proud to be your daughter and even more proud that you Pop are my father. So with this I close, I wipe the tears and I vow to spend as much time with you as I can. I love you.

I shared this with you, to implore those that may read it, to say what they feel to their parents, before the chance has been taken from you.  I did and I have made peace within myself, that when his time does come he will know my thoughts and how much I love him. I held his hand and struggled with the tears as I read this to him, but I had the opportunity to do so and for that I am happy.

Remember the lyrics to Mike and the Mechanics Song  The Living Years-

I wasn't there that morning
When my Father passed away
I didn't get to tell him
All the things I had to say

Is it all in the Title?

What makes an excellent Post, one that people will read?

What draws in the unsuspecting reader, perhaps it’s simply the Tags we use?

Is it what people are interested in at that particular moment in their life?

Or do they intentionally explore their computers for links, words to a subject or a topic that they are curious about?

I admire Leslie and her Bucket List site, so many viewers watching and reading in awe of her travels and lust for the adventurous life-style.

My life style is not that adventurous, my Posts are as my name random ramblings from a mum, letters making words put on a page that are thoughts, amalgamated with the incessant babbling that goes through my head at any given moment.

Am I a prolific writer? Maybe. According to when I started blogging and how many I have written.

It amazes me to see who reads what. Some posts are left dangling, whereas others have had quite a few ‘likes’.

Which brings me to the ‘like’ button, is it hit because they have genuinely enjoyed my dribble, or they are just being kind?

Even this post for instance, it really hasn’t accomplished much, it hasn’t set the world on fire by its content, it’s just words.

Maybe as my title suggests, it’s all about the title is this the draw card?

None the wiser, I write because I enjoy, I wish to express and I shall continue to do so. If my ‘like’ button is pressed I am pleased and for those that have stopped by and read my ramblings whom I haven’t acknowledged – I thank you.

First Time Mum

Some time back I wrote a short story which was accepted and published in a book of collective stories from new mums.

Some of us have pets before we ‘replace’ them with children. That was the case for us, Ash our Golden Retriever was the baby in our family, but things soon changed after the first pregnancy test, which incidentally proved negative. Three weeks later, as my boobs were continuing to feel sore and no sign of a period, I took another and this one read positive. I phoned my doctor for the first available appointment. Yes positive, I was approximately 10 weeks pregnant; baby would be due in March. I was elated when I found out. It was a thrilling feeling, similar to setting foot on your first roller coaster ride. Unlike the ride where you could disembark, there was no getting off this one, and knowing that I was now nurturing a human being inside of me was both a joyous and terrifying thought.   

Stay tuned..

**My Memoir The Empty Nest A Mother’s Hidden Grief is now available through Lulu and Amazon (J M Kadane)**