I'm cranky.

I return to the land of the living today. I've spent the last 24-48 hours doing things which I will not go into on here, lest you are eating. But, I've lost a few kilos and I have been unable to eat for the past 2 days. Unfortunately just after my last blog post, my oldest son also came down with gastro and he and I have been taking turns in hugging the toilet bowl and laying about on the couches, him watching kids movies and me reading trashy magazines donated by my Mother.

I am unable to go to work today - where I work has a strict gastro policy, you must not attend work for THREE days after gastro, so all my worrying about work earlier in the week and then I end up with 3.5 days off out of 5 anyway. Looks like I will be working almost up until XMAS now. That makes me cranky.

I'm cranky about other things that I have read specifically today. Except to say that if you're going to insult someone - try a bit harder than resorting to lame sexist insults about 'hormones'. That makes the bile rise in my throat (not that it is too difficult at the moment ;)) and although I detest the person who made the comment that I am thinking of here, without reservation, whoever uses such rubbish in point scoring, shows a certain shallowness and most likely has little knowledge about gender and sexism. But then this will probably wash over the likely offenders, as they will excuse my crankiness or ranting, as "she's just hormonal". No I'm not. I JUST DON'T LIKE YOU.

How to top the previous post?

I think I can, I know I can...

See in this house, we like to share. My son N looks incredibly like his mummy. His personality is distinctly like mine too. My N is a child who is intune with feelings and emotions, a really giving - yet sensitive child.

So.

WHY DID HE THINK that passing on gastro to his Mother was the way to go?

Stomach is currently gripped in spasms. It was a very tricky ride home on the tram and meticulous handwashing has been occurring. I think I want to cry.

In better news, N is mostly better. No sickness at all today, and he is back eating little bits of food. Beautiful little cherub that he is.

Can't say much more because I'm retiring to bed.

xx

Gastro.

Just a heads up; this post may illustrate me as an uptight perfect parent, but I hope not.

For the last 24 hours we have been nursing, rocking, cooing, washing, cleaning vomit with towels, changing sheets, washing our entire sheet collection, feeding electrolyte icypoles to and worrying about our little boten boy, N.

Every 45 minutes from around 11pm last night little boten has been vomiting. He has had a brief break for a couple of hours where he lay lethargic, spent from all of the violent vomiting that he has had to endure over the past few hours - but he has appeared to have started back up again.

All fairly normal, albeit heartbreaking to watch, childhood illnesses, right? Well yes. BUT. They had close contact with another set of children a couple of days ago and the family failed to disclose that the youngest child was struggling with diarrhea and had been previously vomiting. And what do you know..hey, presto - 48 hours later - my baby comes down with it. Now this has pissed me off somewhat. I understand that we don't know when our children are going to get sick and unfortunately only hours before N's sickness started he was sharing a pool and gallivanting around in the sunshine with 3 of his buddies. But I dutifully informed them this morning and apologised in advance if they contract this most awful strain of gastro.

Anyway (get to the point Lex, I hear you saying) - I rang the parent* from where the gastro originated from (actually for another reason initially) and the conversation went icy, then heated and resulted in her hanging up on me (defensive and an overreaction from her - I certainly wasn't raising my voice - but just exhausted etc). So anyway as I sit here I wonder, am I the odd one out in reacting like this? I work full time. My babies get such little precious time with me. I also must devote a great chunk of my weekend to my thesis. Unfortunately due to this weekend of illness, we have had barely any sleep, barely any uni work done, we've had to miss a birthday party and because our baby will still not totally be recovered by tomorrow, we have to tag team the day. J has a presentation at 11 @ uni that he cannot miss and I have to facilitate meetings with consultants and family in the afternoon - at least that doesn't clash so we can tag-team, but I get no sick leave - I have to make that time up! All minor complaints, but something I would not wish upon other people - hence why I keep my children at home, not at care and hopefully away from infecting other people - this was clearly not the case in the above situation.

god, just read this back and it sounds like I'm a whinging 'ol mother. I'm not, I try to be carefree I do, but sickness stuff I just do not budge from my reasonings - if they appear sick to me they stay home from childcare - I do have or make playdates with other children if I believe mine might be infectious.

Am I too uptight? Do I need to loosen up and share the love as well as much bacteria as my children can handle?

*parent is close friend (or was - eek).

money, money, money..

We received an unexpected windfall yesterday, with an amount of money that may be small to some, but will keep us out of serious trouble for the rest of the year.

I cannot tell you the sense of relief that I am feeling right now. Now I can order my son's school uniform for next year, pay kinder fees for my 3yo for next year and buy my children some shoes. Today we went to the fish monger and we bought 1/2 kg of prawns, calamari and some pieces of salmon to eat over the next two days. We went to our local farmers market and bought the food that we would prefer to buy but haven't been able to afford. Is this a taste of whats to come for us? HELL YES. We can now go and look for a bed for our two children (at the moment they are sharing a single bed). Now hopefully my husband can sleep a whole night through without waking up stressing about how he can provide more.

Fuck, it really feels like we are going to finish - he has only 3 weeks left, me 6. We are going to finish, the sky isn't going to fall - and we can pay our bills and keep afloat until December where we will receive the next 2k bonus. That bonus has already been flagged for January's rent.

Yippeee.

*cough* I didn't go to the gym today, but I did find out at my physio appt that I have very unstable hips flexion (I think) and a very weak core (I already knew that) - this is where my side, hip, lower back pain is coming from.

so tired..

I am so tired. Bone achingly so. I'm sitting here at 7.50pm - J is out tutoring, children have finally settled in bed - pile of dishes with my name on them to wash and all I want to do is have a hot shower and settle myself into bed with a book.

I've also been avoiding this blog a bit, because I am finding it really tough finishing the story of my father. Donna is right, it is difficult - but I want to get it done and I will try.

My work is brilliant. My case load is now hovering between 5-6 and in preparation for my midplacement review my supervisor and I had a meeting - where she said many positive things and fed back that members of the team had been very positive about me and my skills. (big smile there!!) In other shocking news, it appears we are now entering job hunting season, with no less than 9 jobs on the market - eek, does that mean I have to apply?? eek indeed. I am absolutely loving my role and I'm not sure I will be able to leave it easily in another 7 weeks, lucky there could be some type of opening for a locum position at least :) starting in February.

My research is coming ahead, I am up to data analysis stage. Here is what I have so far;

lack of acknowledgement

lack of compassion+++++

lack of information+++++ (which occurs throughout hospital experience)

invisibility of the baby (language use etc, not a baby, bleeding is like "a period")

invisibility of the mother (women not "seen" in treatment responses)

Loss of control, loss of power

Strong emotions about treatment even after grief of loss subsides

Self-blame/excuse making for ill-treatment

What women want?

Information
Power to make some decisions about their treatment (ie - natural, D&C)

Leaflets to take away

Their babies to be recognised as babies, no matter the gestation

to not have to wait in emergency

continuity of care

Directives from the researchers point of view

Information, real information - they for the most part understand that medical professionals can not answer some questions, but to be available and open to answering questions and describing what they do know as openly as possible. Being thorough about processes, even about logical events - because people in crisis may NOT think logically.

Medical staff to undergo PD (possibly from SW dept) about communication skills - active listening etc.

To reinforce that although a common consequence of pregnancy, it is not common for the woman experiencing it and for all staff to be mindful of this.

How does it sound? I think it is alright, obviously that is just base grade theming occurring there - plenty more work to do!

Gymming is going well - I was there 4 times last week, this week I've only been once but I intend to go another few times before the week is through. Eating has been pretty good, with a downfall here and there - but I do spend most of my day running between patients, up and down stairs! J had his second integration day today at his new primary school and from all accounts (ie- the husband) he appeared to do very well. Oh, I can't believe he is starting school next year *sob*

ok off to wash the dishes.

my father - part 4

ok - so I moved to Melbourne.. and I happily lived here for awhile - I worked two jobs - partied hard etc. After a few months I began to feel... something about what occurred over there. I felt sort of sad that after all the wanting and wondering where my father was, I now knew where he was but couldn't contact him. I felt angry and pissed off with what had occurred and the cold hard light of day also made me wonder if I had somehow caused it.
So I rang him. And he was delighted to hear from me. He pretended like nothing had ever happened (like he does, move on - don't look back brigade) and so I attempted to join him. Marjorie was still in the picture but she wasn't so threatened this time because I was over the other side of the world. Brief conversations continued over the years, very brief I should add. Perhaps a phone call (from me) once every year or two.
And so I met J and fast forward a few years and we had decided to get married - I decide to tell my father - so I send an invitation to them. Silence. Obviously I didn't expect him to come, but I thought that I might hear from him - this is a major part of my life, right? I decided to try and ring him, but Marjorie gate keeped that part of his life and she answered the phone every single time I rang - and would say he wasn't there etc.
So apart from letting him know where I was living (I had his email address), I dropped the contact. This made me feel better, knowing I had done everything I could to keep the contact going - I realised that I had survived perfectly well without my father in my life for most of my life and continued on. That was 2002.
In 2003 - I had my first child and so began the emails (you all know the gushy emails that you send to all your friends/family with hundreds of photos of the most beautiful child that has ever been born?) - so he would be included on those. Nothing special - no personal messages to him, just photos out of courtesy, so I felt comfortable knowing that I was keeping him informed. But I never heard any response.
In 2004 - I had my own little mini breakdown which I may delve into further another time ;) - but as a result I was referred to a magnificent psychologist who worked solidly with me for a number of months and this is where I began to openly grieve for a number of things - and funnily enough my father featured in a lot of this (no surely not, you say?). Towards the end of this time with my Psychologist, I received a letter in the mail from a woman called A who wrote a long letter telling me she wanted to help me and my father reunite. I was like - HUH? Who is this woman and what does she want - my first thought was that somehow Marjorie had set her up to do this... Thankfully it was on a day that I had booked in to see my psychologist and I took the letter to him for advice. I was wary, nervous - who was she? What did she want? He agreed with my reaction and advised me that if I chose to respond, I should do so very carefully. As an aside he also thought I should one day write an autobiography about my kooky family history, and just imagine for a minute what the Psychologist would have seen in his time! Anyway, I thought about it for a while and then responded with a very curt reply basically saying, who are you - what do you want? Oh and what happened to Marjorie?? LOL She sent me a massive package back filled with pages of letters, heaps of photos etc. She answered every one of my numbered questions..
And so slowly I began to thaw and a penpal relationship formed with (what turned out to be) my Dad's new partner. She said he couldn't talk about me without getting upset and felt great sorrow about what occurred, but had no idea on how to express it. 2005 came and the letters - emails - etc still came and then all of a sudden I received a phone call from my father saying, look out - I'm coming over to Australia, can I come and see you? I just about fell of my chair with shock and I didn't quite believe it as he had repeatedly told me when I was over there in 1998 that he would NEVER ever enter Australia again.

But he did come in November 2005, I was heavily pregnant with my second child - and we spent some time together - he was very taken with my oldest son (then 2.5) and seemed to get along well with my partner. And on one afternoon we sat there and he and I had a big talk about what occurred over there. He was shocked by some of the things that occurred to me over there and he did apologise. That same day, his partner took me aside and told me that my father would print out every single photo that I emailed over the years and show them off to everybody. This shocked me because my father has never once replied to any of these, so I had assumed that he didn't even look at them. He brought with him a number of toys and voiced all these plans of how he would set up trusts for his grandchildren. I knew better this time, accepted the gifts but had no real expectations about anything else.

Time passed - communication started off great after he was here. He would ring me every month and talk to me - but I don't think he knew how to relate to me - and I wasn't asking much from him - I was just doing the old shallow chit chat. He rang after the birth of my son - and then on Xmas day.. but over time the calls began to drop off again.

I don't mean to drag this out - but I have one last post to make, and I am oh-so tired. I've been at work today and it's almost 11.30pm. I promise I'll be back to give you the rest - some of you will know the next installment anyway, as it includes a weekend trip to Perth for a wedding for a maternal cousin's wedding - that ended in an emotional reunion with my paternal auntie and grandmother - and writing about that is going to take more than I have right now :).

I'm trying...

But this post is proving to be difficult to write.

So I'll just fill this blog post with meaningless drivel. I am now in WEEK SIX of my placement, hows that? I am now carrying a caseload of 4 patients *wheeeee* , I have my first discharge coming up this week and I am juggling the role ok (well I think I'm ok?!).

Little J is angry at me/us/ for suddenly being away from him 5 days a week and is acting out as a result. Last week he cried and said 'please mummy, no more university - I don't want you to do that anymore' :( - it's so difficult to explain to a 5 year old that the end is coming soon, so we just say - Xmas little one, Xmas everything will be better.

I'll be back tomorrow to conclude the father chapter.

ps - I'm back at the gym - saturday, pump then cycle and then today I did cycle at 6.15am!!!

my father - part 3

So we were up to round one of the Marjorie versus Alexis fight yes?

So anyway, the next morning I woke to find my father gone on his round the countryside adventure and to say I was hurt and disappointed was an understatement. I rang my mum and she gave me a bit of strength. I continued on in my daily ritual of television, television, food, cigarettes a bath and then more television. Marjorie would come home and attempt to start some type of argument with me. I actually distinctly remember the day after that first argument when she came home and I was up to the afternoon viewing of home and away - she came in and began to pick up the cushions next to me, puff them up - make tsk tsk noises and attempt to get me to pick some type of fight. This was what type of wacko I was dealing with.

The days lagged on and although relations were icy, we began to get on with our normal everyday lives again. Me stuck in the house, while they carried on working. But everything about Marjorie began to make me irritable. I never forget bad behaviour and so I began to watch her closely and things began to annoy the absolute crap out of me. Apparently she was allergic to salt, pepper any flavourings or seasoning so dinner was bland and boring every night. Our long weekend drives became torture sessions where they would pretend everything was fine, while I would sit behind her in the car seething and I began to contemplate what would happen if I put pepper into her food.

It was around this time that she came home and announced over dinner that she had someone that she wanted me to meet, a friend that I could make -Naomi a flatmate of a fellow teacher she worked with - who invited me over to her house in Norwich on the saturday night. I was so excited, I'd been in the country for 2 months and I hadn't been anywhere! They dropped me at Naomi's house and she took me out for a wild night on the town! We had lots of fun and it remains a very positive memory of that journey. The monday after that event, Naomi rang me shocked to tell me that her flatmate had come home from school and told her that Marjorie was talking about the 'slut' that was staying at her house and basically saying horrendous things about me. The flatmate couldn't believe she was saying so many outrageous things about me and told Naomi to let me know. I rang my Mum and coupled with the homicidal thoughts I was having, she advised me to get out of there asap, store my luggage there and spend the rest of my money on an European trip and then come home. It sounded great to me. Now I just had to get a chance to find my father on his own. Marjorie never allowed him and I to be alone.

My chance came one morning when I saw him go to the garage tinkering with his car. I went out and calmly said something to the effect of 'I don't think this is working.. this is what has been happening.. explained the slut name calling.. offered my reasons and said I was going to go on a European jaunt.. store my luggage with him and then go home'. He took it all in with little reaction, he accepted my reasonings etc. But by this time Marjorie had got wind of me and my father alone and came out to us in the garage. I turned around and said 'will you just FUCK off'. And yes, well things decidely took a turn for the worse. My father was mortified that I had spoken like that in public - she began shrieking at me and I let it all out, 3 months of her bullying, intimidation and just plain evil tactics against me. My father turned to me and said 'I didn't ask for this, I didn't ask for this to happen. You and me we are like chalk and cheese'. And I turned to him and said 'Well I am the child here, I didn't ask to be born. You are supposed to be a father. And I am mighty glad that we are like chalk and cheese, because if you had been more of an influence on me I might have turned out like YOU'. He then said that I was to leave his house immediately and that he would call the Police. I rang my Mum hysterical and she was livid, absolutely furious. She said 'do NOT leave, you wait till tomorrow morning - tell him to call the police'. I then rang Naomi and asked her if she knew anywhere that I could stay and I am forever thankful to her, she gave me details for a bed and breakfast near Norwich train station. I rang my Mother back to tell her this and she said 'hold on girly, I'm leaving on a Malaysian airlines flight - I'll see you there - you tell that bastard I'm coming over and he had better watch out!'

I retreated to my bedroom and began to sort my stuff out. I began to think about how I could defy them in the next 12 hours until I was forced to leave their house. I began to smoke in my bedroom, ashing into the pot purri bowl that Marjorie had so lovingly left for me. I took the card where she had welcomed me into her family; tore it into little pieces and littered it all over the bedroom. I took all of my clothes down to the laundry and began washing and drying all of my clothes. At one point I walked past Marjorie when my father wasn't near and she leant in and said 'look at your GOOGLY eyes!' (yes she remembered that pearler, from last entry!!), I laughed and said that at least I wasn't a barren old woman who a problem with facial hair. Once they went to bed I continued my small acts of defiance against them. I called every single person in my telephone book *blush* and spent most of the night on the phone to everybody. I then went up to the bathroom, had a bath and then with much pleasure tipped as much as I could out onto the carpet (the bathroom was carpeted). Pretty shallow types of revenge, but I was 21.

I slept for a couple of hours and set my alarm to wake me early. When they woke up - I had everything packed and waiting. My check in was at 10am but at 7 I was ready to get out of there. My father packed my suitcase in the boot and drove me alone into Norwich. He didn't say one word to me. We stopped at the hotel, he parked - got out and carried my suitcase out of the boot, along the footpath and up the stairs into the bed and breakfast. He carefully put my suitcase down, turned on his heel and walked away from me. I stood there, shocked beyond belief that my father - my Daddy would leave me without even saying goodbye. Its fair to say at this point that I collapsed with grief, even now thinking about it is incredibly painful to me. How could someone do that? How could they walk away without a second glance. He didn't know that my Mother was coming. He just left me alone. The manager of the place was witness to this and knew something serious was up - she quickly moved heaven and earth to get me into a room earlier - and I collapsed into bed. I remember little of this time, I know I did a lot of crying - I didn't leave the room. I didn't eat. I just cried.

The next morning - my mum arrived at Norwich train station, with a huge suitcase and nothing in it. She was steely and angry and immediately tried to ring my father at home. Luckily for him, there was nobody home. I remember her turning to me and saying, ok kiddo - lets enjoy this place for a few more days before we head on home hey? Where do you want to go? and I said LONDON please, London! So after a day or two longer in Norwich, Norfolk - we left by train. We went and caught Phantom of the Opera in London and then caught a boat to Amsterdam where I smoked a lot of pot - we wrote phantom postcards addressed to Marjorie at her workplace and blew off steam this way. The laughs we had as I penned a thank you postcard to Marjorie thanking her for her recommendations for a clitoris piercer were loud and long and sustained us for many a train trip! After a week we got on the plane and headed home to Darwin where as we landed I began to cry. I didn't want to be back there, and I fell into a black hole. I stayed at home - here I was; home again - and I didn't want to face people and tell them that my father didn't want me.

About 2 weeks after I returned home, one of my friends who I had worked with in a nightclub up in Darwin, rang me. She had moved to Melbourne and invited me to come down and join her. Her boyfriend at the time was a freight pilot and he organised for me to be flown down on a freight plane for a bottle of gin. So, off I went to Melbourne - with a suitcase, a bottle of gin for the pilot and a trip to a city I had never been to. The rest as they say, is history.

I still have more to tell about my father. There is current stuff still going on. I will tell you, but it will have to be the concluding chapter, because this entry is soooooo long.

My father - part two

I didn't realise this would be interesting to other people lol.

So... I was up to the phone call.

I remember being at my cousins house and having my Mum ring me and say 'your father is going to ring you, you have to come home'. I couldn't quite believe it, I was numb, excited, terrified, scared, emotional, anxious, happy - you name it, I felt it. I rushed home and then the phone rang and as easy as that, there I was talking to someone who I had waiting most of my life to speak to. He was casual, excited, and I distinctly remembered him saying 'how old are you?' which made me feel a bit strange, didn't he know that? And then he asked when my birthday was which gave me a twinge of pain, didn't he think of me every year on my birthday, like I thought of him on November the 15th every year without fail? But that twinge was overtaken by the excitement I felt and my Mum felt for me as we marvelled at our find!

Over the next week a flurry of phonecalls happened across the continent - and my Mum came up with a great idea suggesting that I change my tickets from New Zealand to visit my extended family to go to England and stay with my flesh and blood, my father. By this stage it was only 2 weeks until I was due to go, but my Mum managed to change it and all of a sudden - bang I was lining up at customs at the age of 21 to fly across the world, to meet my father at the other end at Heathrow airport. I remember the flight well. I didn't sleep a wink the entire flight as I again went through all the emotions; giddy with excitement, terrifying fears, teary, scared, happy as well as being unbelieving that at the other end, I was going to come face to face with my father, the missing part of me.

I remember getting off at Heathrow and being overwhelmed by the size of the airport, it was massive (hey, Darwin girl here!). I came out through customs desperate for a cigarette and found a smoking area inside of the airport (it was obviously the 90's), while I waited - terrified. I remember smoking my cigarette and seeing a grey haired man, with golden skin and my eyes walking towards me. I hurriedly put my cigarette out and turned to meet him. He looked so different from the father that I remembered, in all my imagining of how this moment would happen - I had imagined my father with dark hair and a younger, firmer face.

I've forgotten about what exactly happened during that first meeting - my memory is not so good - probably due in no part to the jet lag that was trying to engulf me. I do remember driving the 3 or so hours back to Norfolk, to his house in Norwich - with he and his partner Marjorie. I remember being in awe of the rolling countryside and the dairy cows everywhere (hey, Darwin again!) and I remember stopping for breakfast somewhere along the way home and them trying to convince me to have a fried bread (bleurk!). After some time we arrived at their house - a heritage listed 300 year old house which was called 'Gothic House' - it was a tudor style beautiful house. My father apologised and said he had to go to work 'for a few hours', I didn't care because I was exhausted and I had planned to sleep anyway. I went up to my bedroom, made beautifully with a gorgeous little card from his partner welcoming me into their house etc. I unpacked and looked longingly at the bed.

Majorie called out and asked me to come down for a cup of tea. I considered it and thought it polite to do so, but planned very quickly to make my excuses to have a nap soon after. I remember sitting there with a cup of tea and Marjorie started off pleasant enough, but after a short while she began to confide in me about my Father. I started to shift uncomfortably in my seat as she began to disclose my father's various indiscretions and how he cheated on her with 'this one' and then that one. I stared at her, with my eyes hanging out of my head as she went into more and more detail and of course after all these years, I couldn't remember exactly what she said except for when she regaled a time that she came home and checked the sheets of the bed where I was to stay claiming that 'the sheets were still WET from them' *vomit*, I remember thinking at that point, who is this freak? I said 'oh, well I guess this is really none of my business' and then apologised and explained that I hadn't slept for over 30 hours and went off to bed.

My father wasn't around much during my time over there. Marjorie worked as a teacher in a seaside town around 30 minutes away, so she was also gone every day. This gave me much more time than I would have liked, alone. It was freezing cold, I had no transport and I was in a village about 20 mins drive out of Norwich. Now, I'm quite an extroverted type of person - I have lots of friends and I am always busy at home. I had come from working two jobs to fund this trip - lots of goodbye parties, love and romance and then bang I was placed in a house in the middle of a foreign country with no friends, no car and in the middle of nowhere. It's sad now to think back to what I turned into. My whole day began to revolve around the television. I would start the day with morning programs, then came neighbours/home and away, then the Jerry Springer type shows. There would be a break of an hour, where I would go and have my daily bath and then walk over the bridge to the shop, buy cigarettes and the papers before I would return back in front of the television to catch the second instalment of home and away and neighbours. After that one of them would be home. This is what I did 5 days a week - oh and I greeted the mailman - I was desp for company. I can't tell you what I did at night, I don't have that many memories - I do remember helping my father a little bit on the computer..

Weekends would be filled with my father driving me around the countryside. I remember a hell of a lot of churches and old buildings. I remember driving through Essex, Sussex, Cambridge. I remember my father buying me an icecream when it was 1 degree, even though I didn't want one - who eats such things when it is that cold?? The British apparently lol. While I was happy that we went on these "family" drives, I needed more. There were things that I needed to get off my chest to my father, about how I missed him, why didn't he come and find me, did he miss me? Some issues that I had been carried around and stuff that I wanted to go over. The only problem was that those were subjects that he just didn't want to talk about. He said; oh, that is the past - why dwell on the past.. lets look to the future! Which made me feel even more funny because this had consumed me for almost my entire life. I couldn't just put it aside and pretend everything was alright. Little did I know that there would be little chance of just carrying on as if everything was fine anyway....

Back to Marjorie. As I mentioned, my father worked a lot. And Marjorie was home before him and would take me to the shops or on errands that she had to do. And yes, after her 'sheet story' she continued to tell me inappropriate things - by god she did. I remember her taking me to a gym that she thought I might like to join (hinting that I should, yet it was a 20 minute drive away when I had no car) and we made pleasant conversation in which I told her that the only time anyone had ever teased me at school was to call me 'googly eyes' (I have big eyes..!) which I found hysterically funny. Her favourite topic of course though was to direct me back to the cheating ways of my father, oh goody just what I like to think and talk about (NOT). Anyway she spoke about this woman he used to be with and said 'oh you are so lucky that he wasn't with her when you found him, she would have NEVER let you into his life'. I laughed and said 'oh I don't think I would allow anybody to stand in the way of meeting and getting to know my father, if she would be silly enough to do something like that, that is'. I spoke firmly about that because I didn't think that would be a reason enough for anyone to stand in the way of a daughter meeting her father - and I wouldn't have stood for it.

The next day as I sat at home after my bath/walk to the shops for smokes, I had settled in to watch home and away. My father and Marjorie arrived home and after a few minutes of hushed conversation in the kitchen, my father called me in. I walked in, my father looked funny and Marjorie was looking at me with disgust and hatred in her eyes. My Dad said 'Alexis, Marjorie has just told me that you threatened her last night and said that if you asked me to, I would leave her for you'. I looked at them and went 'huh?'. He repeated it to me again and after thinking about it for a while I realised how my statement made the night before.. (go on read it again, do you see anything untoward in my comments??) and told him so. Marjorie seethed and said 'you're a liar, you are a liar. You said you would take him away from me if you wanted to etc etc etc'. My jaw was hanging in the breeze at this point. My father turned away and she walked up to me and slapped me across the face - unfortunately he didn't see that. But what he did see when he turned around was me with my hand closed into a fist, swung back and ready to punch her square in the face. He restrained me. I became hysterical. She retreated upstairs to her bedroom and I sat down and he told me that he was seriously considering leaving her. I cried that she could have been so cruel to me. He told me that he was due to travel for 3 days around the countryside and I begged him not to go because I couldn't be alone with her, for I felt sure that she actually hated me.

He played the go-between for a number of days and relations began to thaw. But I didn't forget, because I never do. And the cease fire was only temporary anyway.

I must break this into another part because it feels so therapeutic to write this out and now it has turned out so much longer than I had aimed it be. So, keep hanging on and I'll be back with the next installment.

My father part one.

Hello all,

I'm trying NOT to transcribe at the moment and a post I answered on an internet forum has prompted me to write about this person, my father.

My mother and father met in Darwin in the early 1970's. She a divorcee with 4 young children and he a divorcee with 2. They met, fell madly in love and were together. Cyclone Tracy briefly separated them, but they reuinited in Perth. They decided to have a child together some time after that and within a year, I was born. Sounds like a perfect story, right?

Well. Let me fill you in. Apparently there was a lot of fighting, abject poverty (apparently I was clothed in cloth nappies made from towels) and the marriage was anything BUT happy. Regardless they got married when I was around 18 months old, and then broke up when I was 2. Obviously I don't remember any of this.

What do I remember? A man who went to disneyland and brought me back a real Cinderella dress which I wore everyday until it disintergrated, his puppies, jumping on his bed with gay abandon as my now five year old loves to do. I remember his pool (remember this point for later) - just positive happy memories of my Daddy.

At some point in 1981, my mother decided to move back to Darwin and so we left and that was the last time I saw my father until 1998. From 1981 until 1998 - I dreamt, fantasised and hoped that my father would come and rescue me - I clung onto my memory of being taken to Myers and told 'pick anything you want for Christmas Alexis', of the big mexican hat - when the going got tough with my Mother during my teenage phase - I clung to his memory. I had to find him, I had to find him.

And so as I neared my 21st birthday - my Mother and I sat down - and decided to try and find him. We went through every phone book and rang every entry in Australia that had his name - but to no avail. I was upset but tried to pretend it didn't matter - but little did I know that my Mother had put an advertisement in a magazine that was printed in New Zealand and Australia and it was this advertisement that my cousin living in Auckland found. She rang me.

(now the following may read like a hillbilly novel - I swear this is true!! And it is possible you may think less of my breeding ;) )

My cousin had not seen my father since he had left NZ all those years ago (way before my existence) - but she could fill in some family history as I was apparently related to half of Auckland. My paternal grandfather was a Welsh man in the Navy, he met my paternal grandmother in Tonga, married her and took her back to NZ where they had 4 children (the oldest, my father). He then left her and went on to marry another ELEVEN, yes eleven wives all of who were Maori. He had children with each of them, hence the comments about many relatives situated over there.

My cousin and I shared quite a few stories and I planned to try and get over there. My mum was so excited by this, she decided to buy me a ticket to NZ for my 21st. That was around November 1997. In the early months of 1998, my Mum had another brainwave - she was sure my fathers family would still be residing in Perth and so took a chance at ringing a radio station that had talk-back (apparently v.popular over there), she told them the story and they asked to speak to me live on air...! Well, within a week I'd had a phone call from my paternal grandmother who lived in Perth and a phonecall from my Father who was now living in England!!!

I'm going to leave you hanging.. this story is far longer than I first thought. I might come back later and add more to the story.

Just had to share...

I think it was in a previous post I mentioned the life changing and positve aspects of the sw area that I am in whilst on placement.

Today I got to experience that first hand just how amazing this work is. Today we went on a home visit. Home visits occur when patients appear to be ready to start having some weekend leave, they go home to their family overnight in the lead up for them coming home. Before that happens, the Occupational therapist goes to the house to see whether any adjustments need to be made and that the patient will be safe. Today I went on one of this visits.

This person had not been home for a number of months. The emotion that he and his family felt when he walked through the door, I just couldn't begin to describe. Well, I could but it just wouldn't convey it. It was enough that I had to blink back tears a number of times - it was just so amazing watching this clearly loving family just be and the patient reuniting with his pets that he hadn't seen for a number of months. Joyful, ecstatic, emotional, beautiful.

how privileged am I, to have been able to witness this family experience today?

On the drive back to the hospital with the patient, the news came on.. it was a story of parents (I think?) who had been arrested after starving their 7 year old daughter to death, she was found weighing 9kg at that age. Everybody audibly groaned at the description and I turned to my supervisor and said... 'and there is the other side of social work'.

here we go... week 4

Yesterday I started an independent case load. I was the person the patient met, I was the person the family met and provided education to. Now I am the one who will meet with the consultant and family and run all of the meetings...

And I would have started it earlier had I not been doing the lit review during work time last week.

In the hospital file, my name is next to social worker.

Yaaaaah! Here we go.

Still loving the placement.

I've done the literature review and methodology (2nd draft) so my next deadline is 1st draft of results and discussion and that is due in less than 2 weeks. I guess to do that, I will have to finish transcribing..... so that is my next task.