Happy birthday to my brave, hilarious, whacky little stunt woman, the girl who told me just the other day, “You don’t actually just grow mum, fairies help you grow.” I’m so glad I am your mama.
It’s the start of the silly season and even in the hospitals I work in with really sick kids we love to celebrate at this time of year with a party or three. We visit children who become really sad when the medical staff tell them they won’t be going home for the holidays. They’re far from family and friends and need a lift. We’re often by their bedsides with Santa, TV celebrities, sports stars and various super heroes trying to divert and distract them with songs and giggles and presents. I will never tire of making kids laugh with smiles and silliness. Every time I see a child’s sad face light up my heart sings. I am so lucky to meet these marvellous families, doing my job is a privilege that I don’t take for granted.
Today is Guinness World Records Day. Today is the day single mothers must dare their children to set the world record for fastest bed making, most dinners cooked or the world record for the longest time a child of a single mother has ever gone without whinging about anything. Come on, I dare you
Even when I mature I will never grow out of my tragic obsession with so bad it’s good music. And the hits keep on coming. Who could forget The Ferrets Don’t Fall In Love or Smokie’s Living Next Door To Alice in 1977? Samantha Sang’s Emotion and Dave Warner’s Suburban Boy were highlights of 1978. But my current fer-sure favourite from 1982 totally is:
A brilliant story
I decided I would walk back to my Hotel that day, even though I had spent all day and most of my money shopping and my shoulders were aching from the weight of the bags. Flagging down a tuk-tuk would made the trip quick and easy and with the unbearable heat rising up from the sidewalk and bouncing off the city walls and radiating down from above it is a wonder I chose to walk that day but at the time I decided that I would like to wander through the alley ways and stalls and nod my head in greeting to the people of Sukhumvit Road and thats all it was at the time. But it is only in retrospect that we see the significance of seemingly small decisions such as these. We don’t realise how our preferences, no matter how small, act as the fingers and the palms and…
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November 1 means that (inter) National Novel Writing Month, better known as NaNoWriMo has started. Yes, I’ve pledged to write 50,000 words of a novel in November, with kids and gigs and parties and extra work, what a sensible idea as an already over-committed single mother. Well it’s November 4 and I’m over 5,000 words along. That wasn’t so hard. Yikes. At this rate I’ll be in love with my new novel by chapter two. If my blog is a shambles in November it’s because every day I write the book.
Today is the Day of the Dead and All Saints’ Day.
4.15am. I am woken by a Halloween sugar hangover from hell, my tummy is about to explode and in my head I can hear the echo of my children whingeing like reality show contestants. I would run around our house screaming like a lunatic if only I had the energy. Yesterday afternoon I ate too many red ones, blue ones, green ones, pink ones, yellow ones, orange ones, brown ones, purple ones, striped, spotted, dappled, multi coloured, mottled, dusted and sugar coated ones. There is a beautiful tree-lined street one block from my house and every Halloween the residents hold a street party/sugar orgy, handing out kilos of chocolate and lollies to all the kids. Word has gotten out in my part of the world that the costumes and decorations are fabulous and the hard stuff is freely available. People come from everywhere and the local clocks switch over to beer o’clock at about 3pm. Because I am a fabulous cheapskate mother, I painted my children’s faces green and sent them out to forage for their dinner. Keeping children off the sweet stuff is hard when you are a sugar substance abuser from way back. In order to keep my kids from developing a major addiction, I selflessly rationed their sweeties before tucking them in bed, then proceeded to scoff their lolly bags like a junkie at 8.30pm. I looked in the mirror at about midnight and my face resembled a Green M+M. So very attractive. Lucky for me it is the Day of the Dead today because I look like death warmed up. Single mother commandment no: 78: Thou shalt not skip lunch and dinner for dessert just because the neighbours are paying for the meal.