On my ever evolving relationship with women and feminism

It is funny looking back on your life and thinking about the person you've been and the person you are becoming.  Especially if, like me, those people are significantly different from each other.  If you'd asked teenage Hannah if she was a feminist she would have probably told you to fuck off.  If you'd asked mid 20's Hannah if she was a feminist she would have probably given you a long rant about how making art in a 'woman's' media doesn't make you a feminist.  But if you ask Hannah now if she's a feminist you will get a straight up 'Yes'.

I think I've always espoused feminist values, but couldn't marry those values with my concept of who 'feminists' were.  And for a big chunk of my life I had difficulty relating to women - I had to reconcile the fact I was a woman before I could even consider my relationship with feminism.

Little Hannah (in the pink) - Calf Club day out in South Head

I grew up (for the most part) a country girl.  In terms of gender typing it meant I got to sit on the fence a bit.  I was expected to do all the usual 'girl' things (have long hair, wear dresses, play with dolls, bake and do jobs around the house), but I also got to do regular 'country' stuff - chop kindling, ride bikes, catch fish, drive farm vehicles and do farm jobs.  It kinda felt like my family subscribed to the 'girls can do anything so long as they do the dishes' kind of thinking.

While this was good to some extent, I also grew up in a predominantly white, affluent farming area where gender typing was standard.  Men who weren't good at farm work were pansies and homos and women who were different from the norm were bitches and sluts.  Feminists were lesbos or dykes.  Throwing like a girl was a bad thing.

For me, growing up as a girl generally seemed like a bad thing.  I didn't fit in well with most other girls.  I was an outspoken, imaginative and bright kid.  I preferred hanging out with boys from an early age as I felt like boys actually did stuff and girls just sat around and talked.  This was reinforced at home where Mum was a passive voice and Dad was anything but.  I saw this as a weakness*, and while I loved my Mum I could not relate to her and did not want to grow up to be her.

I hit puberty early and that further estranged me from my female peers.  I wasn't aware of it at the time, but boys were now interested in me in a different way and some girls perceived me as a threat.  Though I had always been bullied ( I was always a 'nerd'), this was when the girl specific bullying really came into it's own.  I had friends, but never felt a part of anyone's inner circle.  I was lonely, although by no means alone.

I struggled to cope with my new womanly body.  It was a drag.  Suddenly, running was uncomfortable and doing the physical things I used to wasn't the same.  I felt estranged from myself.**

At High School I formed strong bonds with my male peers as, for the most part, I didn't really have to acknowledge my femininity when I was with them.  I could be bright and imaginative and have fun.  I felt more myself with them.  When I look back on teen Hannah though I am sad.  Without meaning to, by attempting to escape her gender she became the antithesis of a feminist.  I can remember a friend telling me how he made his girlfriend clean up after one of his epic parties and just replying 'if she's dumb enough to do it then it's her fucking problem.'  I didn't like or understand other women.  I couldn't empathise with them.  I felt as though I'd escaped the whole equality quandry by just hanging with the boys.  I didn't think it applied to me.

A (15ish) Hannah - one of the boys.

But at the same time I bought into the rape culture that is pervasive in New Zealand.  There were several occasions where I was date raped, on one occasion by a close friend - although at the time I never would have seen it as that.  Every time I was intoxicated.  I was young, I was flirtatious and I was dressed provocatively.  I believed it was my fault.  I felt that if I were stupid enough to put myself in the situation how could it not be?  And despite having said no, several times, every time, I eventually stopped fighting.  Every time.  I felt my giving up was an indication of my consent.

My general attitude toward other women reflected this same culture.  I wolf whistled at women in short skirts on the street.  I belittled other women.  I thought women were generally silly and deserved everything they received as a result.

When I was about twenty I moved into an entirely female flat.  And they were different.  They didn't just sit around not doing anything.  They were kind and warm and open.  And while I had met other girls like this previously***, I had not met them en masse and it was enlightening.  I felt comfortable with myself in a group of other women for (what felt like) the first time.

And at Unitec I found even more like minded ladies (love you guys so much x x).  Whilst studying I also engaged with ideas around feminism academically for the first time.  I was (and am still) grateful for my time with the boys - it meant I took nothing at face value.  Whilst I read a lot about feminism I was still not ready to call myself a feminist.  I felt that much I read did not equate to striving for equality.  Very few texts (at the time) talked about balancing women's liberation with men's liberation.

This was particularly apparent to me having come from a farming background where the male archetype is as ingrained, if not moreso, than that for the ladies.  And having been one of the 'boys' for much of my teenagehood I really felt like there was this whole issue of 'man' that was being ignored.  Like 'man' was this blank slate for projection of all of 'women's' issues, without acknowledging their personhood or needs.  I felt feminism, and (some) feminists I knew at the time took a very one sided approach, and I was horrified to be lumped in with them.

At the same time I felt the feminism I saw around me neglected to acknowledge women's sexuality, or desire to be sexual.  Whilst I completely understood the backlash against being objectified, I couldn't equate that restriction with freedom.  Why couldn't I wear sexy clothes and own my body?  Why couldn't I be intelligent and still enjoy cooking and knitting?  What was wrong with being just a Mum?  I felt as though feminism imposed as many rules on me as the patriarchy.  It was still a regime, just one run by someone else.

The face of an unkempt feminist

Today I am happy to be called a feminist because I take it at its word.  A feminist is supposed to be someone who strives for equal rights.  I am definitely that someone.  I have decided I am ok with people thinking whatever they like about me regardless of this label - that's their problem.

Today there are many subgroups and branches and offshoots of traditional feminism.  There are many new definitions and names for these, so many I don't remember them all.  It's all too confusing.  This is why just being called a feminist is good enough for me.  The main gist of my values is there.  People can pick it apart all they want.  I no longer give a shit.

So do I think women deserve equal pay?  Yes, of course we fucking do!  I would like it if we could compare equal work in equal jobs at equal levels (which is not how this statistic is calculated currently) so we could see exactly wherein the issue the inequality sits****.  But I also think we need more support out there for Dads.  Why aren't there change tables in men's bathrooms too?  Why don't men get support from Maternity Mental Health for the first year too?  When will 'flexitime' be normalised not just for working Mums, but Dad's too?

There has been a lot of work that's gone into giving women choice in terms of staying home or going to work (or both), but not vice versa.  And from a practical perspective this is just stupid.  Cos if I want to go to work, but Murray has less support to stay at home with the kids than I do, it's a no brainer as to who stays at home.  How can we change this dynamic if we're focused on only one side of the picture?

And if we want to break through our rape culture we need to work on breaking down our hard man culture.  Because not only are Kiwi dudes great at sexually (and otherwise) assaulting women, but they are first class at topping themselves.  So it's not really working out so well for anyone.   And whilst us ladies still strive for equal treatment, at least we have our close mates to bitch about it with.  Most of us talk things through, get stuff off our chests and feel ok.  And if we can't do it with our mates, we go and get help.  It's acceptable.  Guys don't seem to feel they can do this.  So what do they do when they're not coping?  They act out.  It's not rocket science.

Anyhow, that's enough ranting for one day.  In summary, today I'm a proud feminist.  It took me a while to get here, but I am comfortable with that path.  I strongly believe in equal rights for all.  Everyone matters.  And everyone should be free to be whoever they are without fear.  So I strive to teach my kids things can be different.  Because they can.  I know they can.

* It took me a long time to understand that not all strength is visible and not all decisions are simple.  I love my Mum to the moon and back and have much respect for her now.

** I have to clarify: I have never felt I was trapped in the wrong body.  I just struggled to feel my athleticism slipping off my bones (how it felt).  I remember that juxtaposition between childhood and adulthood and I didn't like it.  I liked the sameness of childhood - how boys and girls were the same, really.  Just kids.  But I relate strongly to those who are trans or identify as gender queer as I really feel that imposition of gender.  At times it's fine, and others it's uncomfortable to wear.

*** Please don't get me wrong.  I had LOTS of female friends over those growing up years, some whom I was quite close to, still talk to and admire greatly.  I just never felt like I fit into those girl friend groups where there were dynamics, and back chat and gossip and stuff.

**** I suspect it's to do with low paid 'women's industries' like care work, the fact women have to take more time out for childcare which slows career progression and women's higher participation in voluntary work that is doing it.  But I can't know this.  Because we need a few law changes before we can get the statistics to know this for sure.

On renovating (and otherwise pulling the house to bits)

I haven't blogged for a while.  I haven't really had any brain for it.  The main reason for this is because my house has been driving me nuts.  It's one of the things about being a stay at home Mum - you end up being at home.  A LOT.  Like, most of the time.  And it's not like I dislike being at home - I am, in fact, what could be described as a 'home body'.  But when you are home all the time, the little niggly things about your house are constantly in your face.  So whilst you're running around fighting house-upkeep-fires (aka - surviving your children) you may desperately be wanting to sort out X shelf or cupboard for fear if you have to look at it in it's current state you might start to scream.

And this isn't helped when you feel you don't have enough room to house all the people that live in your home.  Now, we have the standard three bedroom one bathroom home with four people and two cats.  Which should totally meet our requirements.  Especially when you consider that families of five or six would often cram into a little two bedroom bedsits back in the day.  So I get that this is a First World (and middle class) Problem for sure.  But it's still a problem for us.  Some people have larger space-for-sanity requirements than others.  Murray and I are these people.  We have always had an 'extra' room - even when flatting, so we could take time and space to ourselves.

Our home with one child was totally cool.  We had our bedroom, Etta's bedroom and a games room (office).  We planned for this.  This house was our five-year-one-child-plan house.  After being here for five years we would have been reassessing whether or not to have another child and/or move house.  But we got a bonus baby* and Auckland's housing market has gone bananas so now it's more like a ten-year-two-child-house.

So because we are staying here longer than anticipated and need this home to work better for our particular situation I came up with a solution.  We had a ridiculously large bathroom.  Our house was built for a disabled person and the bathroom was (I'm guessing) open plan to accommodate a wheelchair.  The only reason we'd have a bathroom that size now were if we put a friggin Jacuzzi in it or something**.  And because our bedroom is next to the bathroom, I figured we could use the extra bathroom space to simply create an annex to our bedroom via our wardrobe.

I stupidly forgot to take a 'before' picture, so just imagine that entire space behind the divider is also bathroom, cos it was...

And Abby could live in there.

When we got pregnant we did*** joke about Abby being like Harry Potter and having to live in a cupboard under the stairs.  And thanks to creative thinking, and some fabulous help we've managed to turn that joke into a reality. (Really that's one of the best perks of adulthood, alongside eating as much candy as you want.  Which I am doing while I write this post.)  Like most people we didn't have an extra many thousands of dollars stashed somewhere.  What we did have though was a mortgage to be renegotiated, so we just got a little top up to cover the renovation.

Being someone who has never been the grown up responsible for a renovation before the whole idea of this was a bit daunting.  Sure, I've done some stuff and watched some things at our bach working bees.  But other people were in charge.  I had no idea about what the actual big picture was, I just zone out, do the task appointed and hope for the best.  I never actually planned anything.  And you hear stories all the time of X person being screwed over by Y builder and the job never getting complete.  Or being charged way more than quoted.  Or being quoted way more than the work is worth.  Or having their house literally fall down around them.

Fuck that.

So I called in some help from a friend who (handily) co-ordinates this sort of thing for a job.  He didn't initially want to do the job for us as friends shouldn't work for friends (totally agree), and putting the job through his workplace was by no means the cheapest way of doing it.  But in the end he agreed to help out, and I am so incredibly thankful that he did.

Renovating a room like a bathroom is no simple task.  There is no way anyone who hasn't done it before, or who works in or with people in the industry could know what is involved and the order in which things need to be done.  Coordinating the timing of when builders, plumbers, sparkies, flooring dudes and painter/plasterers were needed in terms of where we were at in the build was mammoth.  AND I would have had to find all those tradesfolk myself and felt comfortable with my choices.  I am so thankful to have had someone I trust to be able to do that for us.

 The new wall ^

The amount of extra room we had in our bathroom >

Especially because I have anxiety.  From previous experience, I know having people in and out of the house is quite triggering for me - to the point where I can basically hide from them and forgo usual life needs (food, toileting, general self care).  Because I trusted my friend I trusted the guys working on our place.  And because of this my anxiety was quite manageable.  And I really quite loved the builders.  They were wonderful guys.  So much so that I actually felt sad when everything was over and I knew I wouldn't be seeing them again.

And it did take a while for all the little finicky bits to be done but now we have a normal sized bathroom and an extra Harry Potter room for Abby!  It feels kind of amazing actually.  But with reorganising this space has come the need to have a thorough sort out of our entire house.  So now I'm (slowly) doing an epic re-evaluation of all the things in our home: whether we need them or not and where they should live.  As someone said to me the other day, it's kinda like house tetris.  You move one thing thinking of where the next thing will fit, and the board is constantly moving.****

New bathroom!

 

 

Welcome to our Narnia ^ (mixing up our YA fictions here)

And Abby in her new closet home > 

And while this process is still in flux, much has been done.  I can walk into our games room now and there is actually open space against one wall (to be taken up by epic bookshelf, to get our books out of storage and the dining room - cos tetris).  I actually have ONE place for all the leads in our house, and despite having lost (temporarily) a wardrobe, due to a thorough sort out, we do actually have space available in our remaining wardrobes.  I have given away a lot of stuff and let go of the guilt of having to keep stuff.  It's been very cathartic.

And very good for my mental health.  I am definitely one of those people who is affected by their environment.  And while I have been told 'it (the cleaning) will never end, there will always be something making you crazy' and while this is to some extent true, I am still better for having much of it done.  Because the less stuff there is, the easier maintaining the stuff is.  The less crazy in my environment, the less crazy in my brain.  Sure, there will always be something to do.  But now the amount of somethings is less everything feels more manageable and I feel much more serene.

And with that serenity comes a bit more space for my brain.  So hopefully this means more posts.  I have had a lot going on, so there is so much I would like to write about.  I am hopeful you will hear from me again soon.

* Unplanned, but so friggin' lucky to have a healthy pregnancy that made it to term and turned into the little person that is our Abby.

** And while that'd be awesome, it wouldn't solve our space dilemma and our power bill would go through the roof which is no good for tight arse, frugal, save-on-electricity-as-much-as-we-can me.

*** Joke actually brought to you by Aunty Anne

**** And it's super addictive...  So hard to stop once you're in the zone!

On Why Social Anxiety Sucks

The true face of anxious/exhausted Mum Hannah

So Maternity Mental Health has been awesome and super supportive and has offered me a bunch of useful stuff going forward since the anxious Mums group finished up.  So I have regular contact with my case manager and also regular one on one counseling with the woman who ran the anxiety group AND an upcoming couples workshop.  And funnily, around the time I realised respite care was a thing and had a read online and then didn't know how to apply for/get it my case manager offered it to me.

And I was like 'YAY!' cos the main issue I have these days is just being super tired because Abby has still been only sleeping in 45 minute blocks during the day, and we haven't been able to stretch her wake-times much because of it which makes for a pretty full on day when you also have a full on toddler.  And because our full on toddler is also a very routine kid, school holidays have really thrown her and she has been acting out something chronic*.  So on a weekday when it's just me I am lucky to get 20 minutes where both kids are asleep to take a breath and be by myself, and I spend most of the rest of the day cleaning, and trying to avoid getting hit, or having things smashed.

And Abby is still co-sleeping and waking two to three hourly at night...

So consequently I'm shattered.  So my immediate thoughts on respite were:
'YAY!' and 'YAAAAAAAAAAAAY!'
And because I am so tired my regular smart brain hadn't even considered anything other than that I would finally get some sleep and could maybe feel a little human again for a bit.

What I was hoping for from respite was maybe a couple of hours a few days where they look after your kids so you can sleep.  But what respite actually is, is a full day (7 - 8 hours) three days in a row where someone comes to help mind your kids.  So I said.  Yes please!  Without really thinking through the actuality of what that meant for me as someone with social anxiety.

The first thing that made it not work is that the respite carer was ill the day she was supposed to start so she didn't come.  And while this is 100% not her fault it is still one of the least helpful things to happen to someone with anxiety.  Cos I'd fully prepped myself for having someone I didn't know come to my house.  I'd had a shower, I'd got the dishes done, put away and hung the washing out.  The house was in a reasonable state and the kids were fed and not too feral.  And this is by 9am (high five to me!) And then my careworker called to say that the respite carer wasn't coming.  Again, no-one's fault but really threw me.

Because people with anxiety often don't cope very well with sudden changes.  And I am one of those people, it made me unsure of what was happening for the rest of the week.  And unsure makes me feel insecure and unsafe.  Seriously, I have lists and blackboards and Excel spreadsheets and all kinds of ephemera to manage my day-to-day life so I don't totally freak out.  So when a big thing changes it impacts heavily on me.

But I didn't want to give up so I agreed to have someone come and start the following day for a different three day block of time.

And she did come.  And she was honestly great with the kids.  But because I didn't know the 'rules' of how respite is supposed to work, and when I was supposed to rest, and how much one on one with both or each kids she was supposed to have or any parameters or guidelines or anything I couldn't relax.  I did manage to have about an hour of rest/lie down time while Etta was napping, but for the rest of the time she was there I just kind of hovered, too scared to do much else or do housework even.  And I wore pants all day because I was too anxious to wear my usual comfy pyjamas for fear of doing so in front of someone I didn't know.

And several random things made things worse:
1) -The respite lady didn't know about our dicky toilet flush, cos I didn't tell her, cos I forgot, cos I was anxious and jammed the buttons and ultimately broke the flush on our toilet so then our toilet wouldn't flush.  And I wasn't mad at her just anxious because I then had a stranger in my home that didn't have a flushing toilet.  (I think this would make normal people a bit anxious to be honest).  And our toilet is still broken.

2) Our older cat has been super unhappy with the house renovations and started spraying in the house in random places so I keep finding random spots of cat wee and having to clean them and parts of our house smell which is hideously embarrassing and gross.

3) Because Etta is out of routine and generally having trouble going to bed cos of daylight savings she is tired.  And having a new person there at naptime made things worse.  And because of that she got super crazy at nap time and it took almost an hour to get her to go down for a nap.  And that was stressful (nap time is not usually that dramatic).

4) Because Etta is crazy and I have anxiety any small comment the respite lady made I took to heart and felt like a terrible parent and couldn't articulate well why we did and didn't do certain things.  And I felt bad that Etta still wasn't toilet trained.  And I felt stupid.  And this respite lady was honestly very lovely and not trying to make me feel terrible AT ALL I felt more anxious cos it really drove home how nuts I am.

And I didn't even realise how stressed I'd been until she left for the day and I melted into a puddle of exhausted tears and called my Mum.  Cause I'd been working so hard to put on a front of being ok with this amazing help I've been given that I almost had fooled myself into thinking it was all ok.  But it wasn't.  And it was no-one's fault.  And it was sooo frustrating because I'd pinned a lot of hopes on this being something that would help get me through, and my own inadequacies as a human being failed me.  Again.  Sigh.

And then I had to do one of the most stressful things ever.  I had to talk to my care worker and explain that I couldn't have the respite lady back the next day.  But before that, I had to tell my husband, who I think will also have pinned some of his own hopes and dreams on this respite stuff I couldn't have her back.  And I felt awful and guilty and ungrateful and generally like a bad person.

But I did it.  And Murray was absolutely fine and understanding and fantastic.  And I was too scared to call my care worker (phone calls are not my friend) so I text her work number.  And when I heard back from her (next day, because by the time I procrastinated and thought about what to say and cried and freaked out she will have turned off her work phone cos it was 7.30pm) she was also great and understanding and ok.  And I kinda knew that this would be the case, but because I'm in hyped anxious state from the respite lady being here my sane brain doesn't work very good.

But there have been some fantastic outcomes from this failed respite situation.

The first one being that on Tuesday I was a bit pissed about the changes to the plans so I was like 'You know what?  I'm gonna make my own respite.  Fuck you world'.  And for the first Tuesday that my firstborn was away at her Nana and Poppa's I genuinely took a day of rest.  I watched back to back TV shows and had a lie down and played with Abby and apart from making dinner, and the epic pre-9am-dash-to-make-house-ok-before-respite-came I did naught.  And the sky did not fall on my head.  And everything was ok.

The second one being that this morning Mum was here (yay Mum!) and Etta told me to 'Go away Mummy' so I did.  I went away and I had a bath (Abby was asleep).  And while I was in the bath, relaxing and shaving my legs for the first time in forever I thought about stuff.  The first thought was if I could rest this Tuesday while Etta was at Nana's, there's no reason why I can't rest every Tuesday.  So I will try and do that in future.  And while I don't get more sleep (cos 45 minute naps) I do get time to myself to just chill, which is still very helpful.**

And then I thought maybe I can do this more often when Mum's here - just have a bath.  And if I try and be more assertive I can nap when Etta naps when Mum's here.  I find this tricky because it's nice to have time alone with Mum without Etta to just chat (Etta says 'no talking' to us so often it's like a mantra) - so it's easy to just not get to nap.  Because I love talking to my Mum, and it's good for both of our brains.  But I think, for the time being, I need to prioritise that sleep time until I'm feeling a little more sane.***

And had I not had the respite lady come and make me crazy and freak out I probably would never have come to any of those realisations about the 'respite' I have already available at hand and how the real issue is that I'm not utilising it the best way possible.  So while yesterday things felt quite raw and traumatic, today I am feeling grateful for that experience and like I've made an epic discovery which means I will have respite every week.  Which is amazing.

So at the end of the day I'm a super lucky lady.  And while anxiety trumped support, I've found ways of better using the support I already have from my whanau (who are amazing just by the way).



* I don't know how your toddler acts out, but for ours it's screaming, throwing (chairs, toys, anything she can lift), hitting (others and herself).  And it can last from anywhere from a few minutes to an hour.  And if you try and offer her anything it feeds the tantrum.  So the best way to manage it is to remove all dangerous objects from her path of destruction, be available to comfort her when she's ready, and get her to help you tidy up the other destruction once she's really, really calmed down (not before, or it'll set her off again).  So what I'm saying here is that she's full on.

** What currently happens is I run errands and I clean and I take a little time to myself, but generally run about like a mad thing the rest of the time so don't end up feeling all that rested at the end of the day.  Which is silly really, but soooo easy to do with a family and a never ending list of jobs to do which are MUCH easier generally when you are sans toddler.

*** And we have Netflix now, and I've shown Mum how to use it so I feel way less guilty about leaving her in the lounge with nothing to do while sometimes all the rest of us are napping.  Because Orange is the New Black is fucking awesome.  And yes, I know, I'm WAY behind the ball on that one.

On the 30 day Painting Challenge

So here's a visual summary of my favorite bits of what happened over the last month:

Not a terrible painting for day1

First undersea-esque scene

A bit different, but still interesting

Odd but fun with the spots and translucency

Strange but happy making

Love the little dragon thing.  Not quite where I want to be, but getting there

And now here's the brainthink summary of what's happened.

Firstly, I am kinda surprised that I managed to do it.  Did I paint one thing every day for 30 days?  Nope.  I cheated, like many will have done to complete this project.  Some days (mostly days where I wasn't really home) I found this totally unachieveable, but I managed to make up for them on other days where my creative brain was firing a little better. 

Also, I didn't just paint 30 paintings.  Although I am definitely not totally happy with the majority of these paintings, there were others that just made me so unhappy they didn't even make the blog cut.  So I probably did more like 35 - 40 paintings in 30 days.  And that's pretty awesome.

So today is my first non-painting day, and I've felt a little at a loss.  My gear is still all set up at the table.  Nevertheless, I've decided not to paint today so I can have a think about where to next.

What this project has really solidified for me is that I can have some sort of an art practice despite the fact I run around after small crazy things all day.  I honestly didn't think I could.  Yes, there are quite a few limitations, but it's still possible.  And it makes me ponder the other possibilities of things I could add to my life.

So today I am researching free online courses.  A friend has been doing a poetry course online for free and it made me wonder what other free educational opportunities may be out there waiting for me.  The kind I can manage without time constraint in the little snippets of free time I have.  I love learning, and there are a few things in particular that I can see being of use to me in the near future.

And will I be continuing to paint?  Yes!  I now have a bunch of questions generated about where these paintings (well, painted drawings) should move to next.  I'm thinking I need to simplify and upscale, although I'm not sure whether it's the scale of the mark or just the paper that needs upscaling.  Because I work best in project form where I must be accountable at the end, I will try and set a fortnightly painting goal to achieve and blog about.  Hopefully that'll be enough to keep me working!

The next question I have to answer is what to do with all these paintings?  I want to keep some, but I can't keep them all.  Do I give them away?  Have a show?  Sell them?  Maybe someone out there in the interweb has some good ideas.

Week 4 of the 30 Day Painting Challenge

Day 22: Sea slug emerges

Day 23: Standard Jelly

Day 24: Flowers Love Acid Rain

 Day 25: Flotsam and Jetsam

Day 26: In a Puff of Smoke

Day 27: Wallpaper for microbes

Day 28: Unusual School 

Day 29: Psychedelic Catfish

Day 30: Tiny Whale

 

Week 3 of the 30 Day Painting Challenge

Day 15:  The Genie Appears (unintentional) collaboration with Etta

 Day 16: Happy Amoeba

 Day 17:Multicoloured bloodcells

Day 18: Mushroom Fantasy

Day 19: Dancing Crab

Day 20: Tangled Swan

Day 21: Confused Scorpio

In all honesty this week has felt a bit meh.  Last week was great, but I felt a bit stuck following the same path the whole time so tried something a bit different again this week.  Not super stoked with the results, but have still enjoyed playing with paint, making marks, and attempting to replicate marks. 

Mushroom fantasy is probably my pick of the week.  The marks feel slightly less inhibited than other ones (which makes sense, as they were cos I was in a hurry) which makes me feel like upscaling will be on the agenda when I start a new painting project.  These works are around A5 - so pretty small.  I think they might be more interesting if I blew them way up to something like A1 - but then I'll have to find different tools to work with, which may also render interesting results.

I think I'll have to get my thinking cap on to go into week 4... 

A catch up on health stuff

So when I last left you I was concussed and awaiting a specialist appointment.

Of course, you've all been hanging on the edge of your seats to hear where I'm at now (ha ha!) so here is the gripping* follow up.

It's now a few weeks on and I'm pretty much recovered from my concussion.  Let me tell you - head injuries suck!  I knew what concussion did cos Murray is a pro at receiving them.  But there's knowing what the symptoms are and actually experiencing them.  Quite different.  Apart from the obvious headache I was ridiculously tired for the first week - especially the first three days.  I definitely needed help with the kids as could not cope with loud noises AT ALL (which are almost impossible to avoid when you have a baby and a two year old).  Simple things requiring fine motor skills - like dressing the kids made/make me overly frustrated - I still breathe my way through every time so I don't get snappy. 

And most annoyingly, the concussion gave me insomnia.

Now I've kicked insomnia to the curb multiple times.  But with a brain injury which requires sleep to get better I have really struggled.  It felt like the deck hit the creativity knob in my brain on to high speed.  Cos I've had a BAZILLION creative ideas in the weeks following this injury.  It's crazy!  It's good in a way, but it's meant I struggle even more to shut down my brain so haven't been able to rest enough to recover quickly.  That's why (I think) 2 1/2 weeks later I'm still not totally recovered.  Plus it's not like I have ample sleep opportunities available with a baby who appears to also have insomnia.  So since the concussion I've actually been achieving less sleep than beforehand.  Sigh.  Stupid brain.  Get well soon.  Sleep is actually one of my favorite pastimes.

And now I have seen the endocrinologist about my thyroid thing.  After all the anxiety and tension the specialist visit was a bit of a pffffft.  I was literally only there for 15 minutes.  Which is good!  Cos it means nothing is seriously wrong.

In that 15 minutes he reviewed my bloods and felt up my throat, then chucked an ultrasound on it to check for nodules.  Nothing out of order.  The blood flow to that area is more than usual - but that's to be expected as the gland is not working as normal.

I totally used Dr Google wrong - I have an overactive thyroid - not underactive at all.  So this recent bout of anxiety - it could entirely be due to my thyroid!!!  Not a nut bar after all**!  So this is the kind of thyroid problem where you get anxious and lose weight (and hair) and get shaky hands.  Which sucks (bar the weight loss, not that I've noticed much), but are pretty live-with-able symptoms.

So what are they going to do about it?  Well, nothing.  It could be completely due to pregnancy hormones.  Pregnancy is not my friend!  It's a little too early to completely pin it down to this though, so I'm just having the thyroid function test done regularly (monthly) over the next four months to see if it calms down by itself as those crazy hormones dissipate.  The preferred medication for hyperactive thyroid is not ideal to take when breastfeeding, so best to wait and see if I really need it.

Which is great news, but also kinda sucks.  Doctors and specialists are always about finding the root cause - which is great - but as things stand I have no advice, no medicine, no nothing, to treat my symptoms.  The only one that's really bugging me is the one which brought me in to get checked out in the first place - extreme dizzy spells.  It bugs me cos I'm scared one of these days I'm going to drop Abby because I've fainted.  It's a genuine concern.  I had to really think after my concussion if I had slipped or had fainted (I've deducted from how I fell that it was definitely a slip, but did I slip because I was spaced out?  I'll never know).

And in the last week I've started having some new symptoms.  I have a slight tremor now.  It's not a big deal but is a little disconcerting - a bit like the hair loss.  It doesn't affect my daily life too much (I have broken a glass though) but it does make me feel a little unsteady, a little not my usual self.  I am hoping this doesn't mean that things are getting worse, and I'm sure if they are I'll know soon anyway.*** I did my first new blood test today.  I'm sure they'll call me if anything is trending upward.

So, on the whole, health things are kinda getting better.  Probably.  Well, my head definitely is.  And I don't have cancer (yay) which was my big secret fear.  What have I learnt from all this crazy stuff?

a) I am not designed for pregnancy
b) You should never assume you are mental.  You might actually just be regular ill.
c) I need to mould spray the path
d) Hanging out washing in the rain is stupid

* Not really

**Well, not this time anyway

*** Also, there's just a tiny chance that now I know about the tremor thing I think I have one. Murray did witness it, but I've also had a concussion and not much sleep and (on some days) too much caffeine and (on most days) sugar.

Week 2 of the 30 Day Painting Challenge

So this second week is off to a better start because I've decided to scan all the images in rather than photographing them with a bad camera.  Duh!  Oh well, concussions are a great excuse for all bad decisions. 

So far, I'm really liking the direction this week seems to be taking and I'm no longer bored of this project.  In fact, I think maybe after this project I'll embark on another project called 70 drawings in 7 days - which is far more similar to my first year studying design at Unitec - which is a good place to revisit to revive the pretty dead practice that is my painting life.

This week is making me interested in paint again.  And especially watercolour.  Which is good cos (again) there is no other painting medium that is plausible for me to use at the moment. 

Day 8: Green Steam

Day 9: Hungry for Anemones

Day 10: America Fish

Day 11: Sneaky Jellyfish

Day 12: Wounded Whale

 Day 13: Lonely Catfish

Day 14: Thoughtful Angler

  

I'm feeling much more positive coming out of this week than I was the last!  The project has kinda started to go its own way, and I'm feeling more confident that I can follow that path rather than worry about having diverted from the initial idea as I am happy with the results. 

My favorite painting this week is probably America Fish.  I am just enjoying the play of colour and layers of paint, and how paint moves and changes and plays together depending on how wet or dry it is, and how paint is placed on paper.  This is all baby watercolour stuff but it's fun and new territory for me (despite majoring in Painting at Unitec I knitted my way through a lot of my degree).

Week 1 of the 30 Day Painting Challenge

So I decided to take on the 30 Day Painting Challenge this month.  Because my last attempt at an art project did not go so well, I decided to simplify so that this time I would actually manage to get through the whole project and not go crazy - especially considering there's an extra kid in the mix these days.

Because I have little time and little personal space, any kind of big painting project is just not feasible (toddlers and oils?  Are you kidding me?)  So small-scale watercolours was the obvious medium of choice.  For me this is almost new territory.  I've never really explored watercolour and am very excited to explore them.  In terms of subject matter I needed something that was easily sourced and required no brain.  As Etta has just gotten the painting bug at Playcentre I thought hey, why not do that thing that's been done many times before, and replicate her drawings/paintings myself.

At the end of the project I'll post images of her paintings that I've used as inspiration for this project.

Day 1: Orange Bird

 Day 2: Bent Crochet Hook with Wool

Day 3: Green and Orange

Day 4: Serendipity

Day 5: Snake Invasion

Day 6: Orange laser worm

Day 7: Blue  Llama

Man!  This week went fast like most weeks these days.  I didn't find the challenge that hard - but I did find sitting with paintings I don't like hard.  When you are out of practice of making vast quantities of work regularly and knowing you'll probably only like a few of them, it's hard.  I had a great difficulty not to overwork things, as the subject matter was simple, and seemed like it was not enough.  Many of these appear overworked to me.  I do think Blue Llama is the pick of the bunch now, and a good starting point to go into week 2 with.

On 'Just Having One Of Those Weeks'

Sigh.

So between last Monday and this these things happened:

1) A routine blood test turned into a specialist appointment
2) I realised I am losing my hair
4) I got a concussion

And because I am currently concussed, I'll keep this brief.

So just over a week ago I went to see my Dr as thought I was anemic again cos have been having quite serious dizzy spells.  Because I feel like I practically live at the Drs and it's hard going with two kids I put off going for a while as was pretty sure this is what the issue was - which sucks, but is not serious.  So when I got the text to go in to discuss my blood results that's what I thought I was  going in for.

But I was wrong.  Turns out this Dr (unlike other Drs) tested my thyroid function and it was not good.  She was expecting me to know what she was talking about, but given this is the first time it's come up I had no idea.  She referred me on to an endocrinology specialist, put me on a small dose of meds (didn't want to mess with stuff too much until I've seen the specialist) and sent me on my way.

So I felt a bit shell shocked.  On getting home and resorting to Dr Google I felt a little better but still felt a bit side swiped by new medical information.  I have never been more grateful for medical insurance.  It means I'm seeing the specialist this Thursday.  So while I know it's probably nothing serious, it's still nice to know that I'll know for sure sooner rather than later.

A couple of days after this I got out of the shower, looked in the mirror and noticed my bald patches.  They have probably been there for a while - just shows how often I look in the mirror!  My hair had been falling out over the last month, but I thought nothing of it as I remember 'the thinning' from after having Etta - a pretty normal thing post baby once the baby hormones start to change.  The last thinning was not like this one though.  This time I actually have patches where the hair has thinned so much you can see my scalp - and it's right at the front of my hairline!

If you have followed my blog for a long while you'll know that a while ago I did Shave for a Cure - I have absolutely no issue with having no hair (besides the fact it gets bloody cold).  But again, this was a blindside - experiencing real hair-loss just after turning 34 is not something I really considered would happen to me.  I didn't have a cry about it, but I did spend a little bit of time fretting about what it looked like and how to style my hair so you couldn't see the patches.  Which is ridiculous given I hadn't even noticed myself for who knows how long.  Now I've cut my hair just to minimise the damage to our drains (you don't want to know how much hair was stuck in our bath drain) and am feeling ok about it. 

The hair loss is likely linked to the thyroid stuff.  And once we know what's causing that I should be able to grow that hair back and feel normal again.  So that's pretty cool.

And then yesterday I was popping outside to hang out my net curtains* BAM.  I slip on our paving stones and smack my head into the underside of our deck on the way down.  I didn't pass out but it did take me a while to fish myself out from the bamboo cut-off pile under our deck and assess the damage.  Initially, it was my arse I was most worried about.  I fell pretty hard and copped a nice butt-bruise in the process.  My head was sore, but ok.  We decided to assess whether or not I needed to get it checked out in a few hours.

Murray is a pro at concussions having suffered many himself.  And because he's had a few I'm pretty up to date with my concussion knowledge.  I started having serious light and sound sensitivity so we first called Healthline to check if I should get checked out.  And then we got checked out.  I was really glad I did as I hadn't thought about my neck at all the in the scheme of things, and due to how I fell, and where there was pain I had to get a neck xray just to be safe.

So yeah.  I do have a concussion and I can officially confirm from experience that they are not fun.  I am so glad I have the backing of a medical professional as I've not been able to do anything all day.  For the first time since I had food poisoning when I was pregnant, I literally spent most of the day in bed.  I haven't even been able to read.  Concussion feels a little bit like being on drugs you don't want to be on.  Everything is a bit disconnected and fuzzy.  I've been getting some words mixed up.  My brain can be slow in getting the words out I want to say.  It's very frustrating and tiring being concussed. 

I am so glad to have had help from Mum over yesterday and today.  She and Murray have been great looker afterers of me during this time.  Small people don't understand brain injury and sound sensitivity.  And my small people are loud, and not used to being told off for being loud (we encourage sound play in our house).  In saying that, Etta's been fantastic today.  And Abby too!  Turns out Gripe water really helps her to sleep.  My only-naps-in-45-minute-bursts baby napped for three hours today.  Thank you gripe water for helping me get rest today!

So yeah, it's been a bit of an eventful and sucky week but we do have exciting and happy making things on the horizon.  Tomorrow I start a 30 day painting project.  Wish me luck!  Hoping it works out better than last time I attempted a similar thing (I've simplified, so it should).

* We had a Smartvent system installed on Monday so am now on a window and mould cleaning bender as it has made an AMAZING difference and I'd love to totally rid the house of grossness once and for all.

Life List

The other day I realised I have a list of things I want to achieve in my life.  It's just in my head though.  So thought it might be a good idea to record it somewhere.  And hey!  Why not record it somewhere others can see it in case they can help me achieve my dreams!

So far I have actually achieved a few of the things I had on an earlier 'head list'.  I have bought my own home!  Epic thing I've wanted to do since I was a kid.  And I own a matching jug and toaster THAT I LIKE.  Sounds crazy, but it's one of those things.

Anyway.  Here is my list. (I plan to add to this as I think of more things):

1) Be a zombie that gets killed in a zombie movie/tv show
2) Renovate/paint my own home
3) Live in a house that has a (working) gallery in it
4) Start my own business
5) Record a (good/coherent/not crap) EP of my own music
6) Travel to/through Italy and Greece
7) Drive a bulldozer
8) Have an art exhibition (like, a real proper grown up one not at Unitec)
9) Have a treasure chest full of real money
10) Have a rose garden grown from cuttings
11) Have my own dress-ups wardrobe
12) Write a cookbook
13) Shoot a clay pigeon
14) Stealth plant vegetables in useful/public places (like roadsides)
15) Have chickens
16) Write a (good) book
17) Publish a (good) book
18) Smash a wall with one of those giant hammer things
19) Ride in a monster truck
21) Pat a cheetah
22) Visit the Amazon and spot some wildlife
23) Compete in a Karaoke competition for money
24) Teach my kids where food comes from
25) Be a fun/embarrassing parent

If you think of anything I should add to this list let me know.  I'm sure there's plenty of important stuff missing!

My sexy jug/toaster combo.  Oh yeah!

On Not Being Ok

So I wasn't lying that other time when I said I was ok.  I was.  Truly.  But now I'm not.  That's the fun thing about mental illness.  It's all swings and roundabouts and it never, ever stops.

The awesome thing about having been through this all before though is that I am slowly learning to recognise when I'm not ok a little earlier.  So what that means is that while I'm not ok at the moment, I'm not terrible.  I'm not dangerous.  I'm not crazy - I just know that if I don't do anything I will no doubt become so in time.  And because of my history, and because I am already on medication for anxiety (sertraline - only relatively 'safe' one for pregnancy/breastfeeding) shortly after telling my Dr I was not ok BAM!  There are phone calls from three different places all at once.

Because while the government is crappy and has removed much funding and resources for mental health (and health in general) it appears they are still a bit freaked out about Mums killing their babies.  So while I'm not at MDK* level as yet, it's nice to know that they will still step in to check and ensure my family is safe.**

And they are.  I don't want to even be seen as someone's 'mad Mum' so I managed to access help BEFORE it got to totally that crazy person point.

*                            *                            *                            *                               *                            *       

As things stand now, I'm actually really good.  I started writing this post a few weeks ago, but haven't had time or brain to continue it until now.  One of the things with my particular type of crazy and having had it for a while is that as soon as I ask for help, I immediately feel better.  Consequently, asking for help starts me on the road to getting better immediately.

The first thing that happened after talking to my Dr is I received a phone call from an agency to have an interview with a Dr, a maternity mental health worker and a psychologist at my home.  The second thing that happened is I had a phone call from the counselor who works in conjunction with my Drs to arrange for a counseling session (I can get four for free through my Drs). 

And while the counseling has not been especially helpful*** that meeting at home with the three professionals was brilliant.  For starters I discovered I'm on a very low dose of my medication so have a lot of wriggle room there if I feel like it's not quite enough.  While I haven't as yet changed my medication, that was extremely helpful to know.  It made me feel like things were not that bad at all as I was actually almost coping with very little back up - which is almost as good as coping!

It also helped me realise the main reason I was so unwell was because I was not sleeping.  Duh?  Of course people who don't sleep start to go a bit nuts!  But pinning down that simple thing when you are sleep deprived is not so simple.  This also made me feel again like given the circumstances I was not such a crap loser Mum after all.

And the lovely maternity mental health lady has been brilliant.  She has visited me once a week every week since this first meeting just to check in on how I'm doing.  Because she is just a nice person this doesn't feel threatening, just actually helpful ie: I don't freak out and clean my house before she's due.  She also hooked me up with an anxiety group for Mums which is brilliant.  It's nice revisiting CBT and also just talking about normal stressful Mum crap with other Mums in the same boat as me.  And there are nannies there who mind our littlies so we can attend!  This week I also discovered a shower nearby so am seriously considering dropping Abby off with the nannies and showering before the group.  Double bonus!

And while the external help has been amazing, the thing that has got me most on track to being ok is that Abby has changed.  With age and osteo I no longer have a baby that screams whenever awake, and especially from 4 - 10pm.  I now have a very happy, very fat, very tall baby who is a total sweetheart.  Sure, she doesn't sleep properly and cat naps just like Etta did and still has to co-sleep at night (hence my being so tired) but she is hitting milestones and smiling and not screaming at me all day. 

You cannot overestimate the impact being screamed at constantly has on a person.  Seriously.  Especially when it's from someone you are supposed to care about.  It's awful.  It's nerve-wracking.  I am sure it must have been used as a method of torture at some point in history.  And if you've also had no sleep it's completely insanity-driving.  All Mummies of refluxy/colicy/sick/sad/scream-all-the-timey babies are fucking champions just to survive each hour of screaming.  I am glad that I no longer have to be one of these champion Mummies because it's been one of the hardest things I've had to do in all my life.

 My happy 15 week old Abby not screaming

Now that the screamening is over there is room in my brain for actual thoughts.  I can remember what it is to be someone other than a slave to the scream.  And I can spend time with Etta and feel like I'm being a proper Mum again.  And even play board games with Murray occasionally and feel like some kind of a partner.  And now Abby is (cat) napping during the day in her bassinet I even get a little time to myself sometimes.  Quiet time.  Time to just sit and focus on myself as an entity for a bit.  And just being able to do that, to quietly sit, is what is really helping me to be ok.

*Murder Death Kill.  Get some Robocop in you ya'll!
** It would be even nicer if the government cared about me before I had kids but it seems like maybe that's asking for too much

*** Counseling has never been my bag.  Given how long I've been in and out of therapy (almost 20 years) I feel like I know more than she does and everything she says is just boring old lady advice.  But I'm going.  I don't want to get in trouble or feel like I'm not doing 'all I should' to be 'well'.  Sigh.  Only two sessions to go.

Survival Techniques

What writing with two littl'uns looks like...

 

I'm not doing so well right now (I'll write more about that at a later date), and one of the things that's making things particularly difficult is the whole no-time-for-self-care dealio.  You think is hard with one littlun, with more than one - you're kidding, right?  The things I used to do to manage my anxiety are just not possible to do on a regular basis when responsible for two tiny humans.

The sorts of things I used to do were not epic.  They were simple things involving time alone like taking a bath, going for long walks, swimming, writing and making art.  The operative word here being 'alone'.  Abby is still a very tricky wee babe.  While on occasion we can get her to nap in her bassinet, she still much prefers sleeping on people.  This means on days where I don't have help at all, I am almost never alone. 

So I'm attempting to find small things I can do every day (or at least, most days - no pressure) to stay sane - things that I can do amongst the chaos of a crazy toddler and a high needs baby.

1) Be Grateful
And I usually am, but I didn't realise studies have shown that writing it all down can actually help you feel better!  No matter how bad the day is there are always simple things to be grateful for.  Every day I will take a minute or two to write down three things I am grateful for that day.  Doesn't matter what it is, so long as I write it down.  And I can do this with a baby on me (as she is now).  I can even be grateful for baby-on-me related things: I am grateful that my baby keeps me warm.  Pretty straightforward.

2) Have A Cup Of Hot Tea  
So if you are childless you'll be all like hey, what's the big deal?  It's tea.  But if you aren't you'll be like 'lady, are you fucking out of your mind?'  This simple thing becomes like climbing the Himilayas once there are children in your home.  The usual go of things is you brew the tea.  You forget you have brewed the tea.  You microwave the cold tea and put milk in.  You take a sip.  Something goes crash off in the distance of your bedroom.  Two hours later, you remember you had tea.  Or you have attempted to hide your tea out of reach somewhere so your toddler doesn't have a fit and destroy it.  And then you forget where your tea is.  And then two days later you find it.  Ew.  Sigh.

I officially take back my cup of tea.  I am going to try very hard to have one HOT cup of tea whilst Etta naps every day.  Is this achievable?  Maybe not.  But I will try dammit!  Even if I get it right half the time I will be having much more hot tea than I am currently.

3) Baby Dance
What's there to do when you have a baby who often cries unless held and rocked by a standing human?*  Baby dance!  While I think the fun of this will wear off pretty quick smart if I did it ALL the time I have to hold and rock her, I'm definitely gonna do this at least a few times a day to break the boredom.  Free exercise equals free endorphins equals good counter play against depression.  Plus Etta loves to dance.  Can totally get her to come to the baby-scream-rock-dance-party.  When life gives you lemons and all that.

4) Get In The Garden
I used to hate weeding.  It's one of those jobs that you're just gonna have to do again every few weeks.  It feels so futile.  These days however, you'll find my garden's actually weeded.  Why?  Cos it really chills me out.  It's a good physical job that I can do for five minutes to an hour depending on how much I want to do. And it shows results quickly so I feel like I've achieved something.   Plus a well kept garden produces a better harvest - which is not only great for our tummies and our wallets, but is an awesome thing to teach the kids.  Also, on an aside, this means I have finally chopped our bamboo back into submission.  Thank you anxiety!

5) Adult Colouring In
You know you're a parent when your partner buys your toddler a colouring in book and you get jealous... I wanted my own colouring book.  Of course, I hadn't realised this until I saw her one. Luckily (and randomly) a friend posted about adult colouring in downloads the same day!  They are way better than those in Etta's book (hers are lame) and you can colour with just one hand (whilst holding a baby) AND whilst your toddler also colours in.  Of course, I've had to print out some of these for Etta too as she decided mine was better than hers, but hey, small sacrifice for big reward. 

Am I trying to relive my childhood here?  No.  I just find colouring in very therapeutic.  It puts you into a state of mindfulness without having to think about it.  It fills the gap that knitting once filled which I have no brain or hands for currently (cannot knit whilst holding this baby - she is too big - I could do it with Etta).  The only decisions I have to make on this page are what colour to use and where to put it.  Way easier than other normal grown up stuff like mortgage rates, wills and insurance.  I take colouring in over that any day of the week (unless we were gonna lose our house or something, then I'd put my grown up pants back on and put the felt tip down).

6) Do A Random Cleaning Job
Every day.  Just a five minute one.  Just clean something that hasn't been cleaned really before but should have been.  Like the doors.  Or the laundry cupboard.  Or the top of the washing machine.  I'm pretty on top of the usual every-day stuff (washing dishes, clothes and vacuuming) but this is stuff that always needs doing and never makes me feel good doing it.  Cleaning or organising something else will help me feel like I've achieved something without feeling like I have to clean, sort out or organise EVERYTHING instead of better utilising my time (like spending it with the kids). 

This makes me sound like some kind of clean freak.  I'm not.  If you've been to our house you'll know this.  There's just so much that needs doing it gets on top of me.  And because I'm a stay at home Mum I (get this) am at home a lot.  My environment totally has an effect on my mood.  Doing something to manage my environment is definitely good for my mental health.

7) Writing 
Yes, it may have taken me four days to write this pretty straightforward list post - but I still did it!  It's still good for me, even if it's done whilst balancing a squalling bubba on one arm and typing with one finger.  Or leant back with a sleeping wrapped up bubba squished up next to my cheek.  It helps me vent my joy and frustrations and discoveries whilst feeling like I'm connecting with people.  Without having to talk to people**.  And it doesn't need to be perfect, or even good to do so.  So it's definitely still worth doing - for me anyway (maybe not so much for you readers... Sorry).

8) Sit the Fuck Down
I am not very good at this.  I am a fidgety, use-my-time-well, never-without-a-task person.  I find it difficult to rest when things need doing around the house.  Which is all the time.  But this idea works in conjunction with the cup of tea.  I will try to sit down and not clean, and not write lists and not go crazy for 10 whole minutes while Etta naps.  I will try.

9) Wine
This is definitely not an every day thing.  But I love wine.  Having kids has not changed this fact.  There is still nothing quite as nice as sitting down after a hard day with a hearty meal and a glass of good pinot.  If anything, having kids has made drinking wine even more enjoyable (and cheaper as I just have the one.  So exhausted I'd be smashed if I drank more).

* Don't you dare sit down.  She can tell if you sit down.  The screaming begins again the moment you try to sit down.   You must stand for the Abby you lazy grown-ups!

**  Not because I hate people, but because when I'm unwell I'm quite scared of interacting with people.