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Showing posts from January, 2015

Not Just Any Plate

     A little tear left my eye a couple of days ago. You see, this plate had been a constant in our household for the last 10 years. Not just any plate, but a plate that saw many great times and not so great times with Ethan growing up and his Autism.   I don’t even remember where it came from. How we got it.   I don’t even really like monkeys. Ethan saw the plate broken on the bench and didn’t even flinch. I was the one that was sentimental and emotional about it all – it had meaning to me not him. He learnt how to use cutlery with this plate. Steve and I spent hours upon hours coaxing him to eat dinner, and this was while as a 4 year old boy, he had limited to no verbal skills, screaming for up to 8 hours a day with spontaneous nose bleeds and head banging against walls just from his pure frustration of not being able to communicate or be understood.   Autism.   Fuck me.   IT.WAS.HARD. I didn’t hear the word “mum” until he was nearly 5. I bawled and howled like a baby so m


     I really thought that I knew it all – you know, back in the day when I was a ripe old age of 18! The time when being 30 and being responsible was decades away and when my biggest concern was how I was going to afford a big night out and to make sure that I remembered the guys name the next day. And looking back, I did know everything then, for me, at that time. But the older and older that I am getting, I’m coming to the realisation that I know nothing of what I once thought, that everything can change and that the only thing that I can control, is my ability to have the correct outlook for myself in my life.   FUCK that’s deep.   You heard it right here.   Something though happened when I turned 30. Call it “a moment”, call it “my Oprah ahaha”, whatever it may have been – it got me thinking about my legacy. We have only got one go of this thing we call life (that we remember or know of) and before I know it, I will be old, hopefully not forgotten and I do wish that my

Dear Uterus

  image  source and credit I recently had my first date with PMS. I mean seriously people! This shit is BAD!  I have always had a tumultuous relationship with my uterus ever since I can remember. Painful periods, endometriosis, a very scary cancer scare last year { ladies, get a pap smear EVERY YEAR! }, we really were not on the best terms for ages, but I can give my lady area some credit – it helped me create these two beauties:   But through all my hormonal trouble I had never really experienced this so called “PMS”. I thought “oh yeah, so you crack it a bit at a certain time of the month”, no big deal until the beast within me awoke.  I had been on birth control from my late teens to control acne, painful periods and the rest. And my body was only off them when “oops” pregnant at 19 and then having the little guy a few years ago. I felt like a zombie on that shit. GOD it played with my mind, but a girls got to do what a girls got to do.  So when the “V” word (Vasectomy) came