Fuck It!

Some days should start with a warning. Our alarms should go off and they should say “Be warned today is a Shit Magnet type of Day”.

I woke up this morning with a little persons elbow wedged into the mid section of my back and another little persons whole head on top of my face. I was wedged in the middle of MY bed. I squinted into the daylight starting to edge it’s way into my window and thought I’d rest my eyes a little longer in an effort to hopefully not wake the girls.

When I opened my eyes again it was to my son yelling “Mum, oh my god aren’t you going to get up, we are going to miss the bus”.

I clearly rested my eyes a little too long.

I jumped up as my son picked up our very unwell dog to put her outside to do a wee. As I wandered into the kitchen to put the kettle on I heard the girls screaming and hitting eachother and my son yelling “MUMMMMMM, ALL OF THE GOATS ARE OUT”.

At that moment I knew today was going to be a shit fight.

The only way to lure Mummy goat and her triplet kids back into their pen was with food. I grabbed a feed bucket and made my way slowly towards the goat pen to find every single bloody animal on our property had got out and were feasting on numerous parts of my gardens. There were four goats nibbling on my vegetable garden, nine ducks burying their dirty faces into the ground making holes every where and thirty chickens just making a big bloody mess.

I got to the pen with the entire farm yard following in a line behind me, eager to eat clearly. It would’ve been funny and a picture moment if it wasn’t my actual life at 7.15am in the morning. I found the reason for the escapees, the latch I’ve been asking my darling husband to fix had actually snapped off. After securing the gate with some straps I walked leisurely down the hill to the sound of banshees in my house.

“She took my slinky”. Dude, you don’t even like the bloody slinky who gives a shit.

“He just pulled the arm off my doll”. Honey, that doll looked freaky the day you got it. The arm adds to her crazy face.

“I want some Milkies”. Shit. Seriously is this even my life.

Please note these were responses in my head, rather than to my beautiful children. My youngest daughter has recently repeatedly asked me if I’d benefit from some meditation because Mrs T suggests meditation when we are frustrated at school. Oh honey, Mrs T is a genius but there’s not enough meditation in the world to help with my frustration when your sister punches your brother in the head after he’s repeatedly poked her for fifteen minutes straight. It takes all the maturity I can muster for me not to high five your sister. Instead I have to think of “consequences”.

After definitely, without a doubt, missing the bus (which I really wanted them to catch so I wouldn’t have to rush to my appointment), I drove them to school. I decided I’d be happy to be a bit late to my appointment because I needed coffee.

I managed somehow to get to my physiotherapy appointment on time. I love my physio. She’s such a lovely lady but the torture she inflicts on me often brings a tear to my eye. I grit my teeth as she continually tells me this is good pain. My torture session finished today and I made my way back into town to have coffee with a friend. It was so nice to sit still for a whole 45 mins and breathe.

I say goodbye to my friends and get in the car to drive 12 minutes in the opposite direction to another appointment. My phone does this thing when I’m driving where it won’t ring or send me messages so I’m not distracted. It waits until I’m out of the car and then it continually distracts me.

I arrived at my new appointment and sit down and my phone beeps at the same time I’m called in. I politely sit down and just quickly check my messages. SEVEN missed calls on my phone in 12 minutes. The message starts and of course it’s on speaker and it’s our school principal notifying me to call the school as not one but two of my children are in sick bay.

I couldn’t hold it in, I said it aloud “Fuck”.

Lucky this was my psychologist appointment and by this stage she was trying terribly hard not to laugh. After I told the school to tell my son with a sore knee to suck it up and go back to class and if it was really that sore I’d be there in an hour.

The first words she says to me is “So, life hasn’t settled down for you then”.

I sat and looked at her for about a minute and laughed, then I cried. Then I swore a few times and then I don’t know how she does it but she made me feel normal. Seriously, I want to be one of those parents who has never heard of a paediatrician. I want to be a parent whose kids have never had a sick day this year. I get excited if all three kids do a whole five days and I’m not called to the school. I’d rather be called to the school to hear one of them did something naughty…actually no I wouldn’t.

But, I’m not that parent. I had shitty pregnancies and delivered premature babies and with premature babies comes health complications and in our case grief. Grief comes with prematurity, not always, but in our case it does. Throw in a big car accident and shit gets even worse. PTSD also comes with prematurity and with a big shitty car accident and I’m not afraid to say I have it, nor I am ashamed to talk about it. If we all talk about these things a bit more it makes them less scary and a more normalised part of trauma that we can share with eachother and help eachother. Not that I need to justify my reasons for seeing a psychologist, but this is one of them. Without seeing this amazing woman I wouldn’t be the mum, wife or friend I try to be each and every day. I wouldn’t have the energy to advocate for my children, I wouldn’t have the fire and determination to find solutions to their problems. I would fall into a heap and I would be no use to anyone.

Last week my eight year old had a seizure at school and went blue again. This week, twice already, my six year old has been sent home with such chronic pain and fatigue that she can hardly walk. Today, my 11 year old who I told to suck it up, well that poor kid has somehow managed to hurt his patellar and can’t walk real well. This is my life. It’s a comedy show really because if I’m not laughing at the ridiculous nature of it all, well, I think I’d be an alcoholic! Lucky I don’t really drink ….just sometimes, coffee is my favourite.

So, as I sit here with my steaming cup of tea and my chocolate tart I look around and smile.

Today was a shit of a day. But I still managed to julienne my carrots and cucumber, prepare the rice and marinade the chicken, ready to roll sushi with those little humans I created, with that guy that I love, who lives here sometimes.

Until tomorrow x

5 thoughts on “Fuck It!”

  1. Oh Christine I don’t blame you for your “Fuck It” I would be thinking the same thing. What a day you have had starting with the escapee animals!!! I hope Saxon will be on the job of fixing that latch ASAP!!!! The bickering you relayed is so normal and happens in every house with children in it, so don’t worry your family is normal I am pleased to hear you say you are not ashamed of having PTSD as there is NOTHING to be ashamed of. You have been through so much in your life from a young age and I am so happy that you like her and she is helping you to cope and manage your life.

    AND after the day that you have had you still manage to organise and then help your kidlets make a yummy dinner….champion!!!!!!!

    Christine you are a dynamo and your never give up attitude is inspiring. Your little family are so blessed to have you as their mummy and wife and I thoroughly enjoy reading your blogs….even though they often make me shed a tear or two.

    Love you girl and remember every now and then it is totally ok to say “Fuck it”

    Big hugs to you



  2. I’ve got my pom poms and my running shoes, “You’re doing amazing! Keep going! Keep breathing! Keep putting one foot down at a time! Go, Go, Go Christine!” So much love to you today Incredible, Inspiring, Beautiful (tired, blistered, wrecked, thirsty Christine) one more day of smiles left, then you can collapse in a heap if you want or run around with your tee-shirt over your head, because you did it! L


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