Lately we have had one of the many wild ibises (Australian white ibis), who are usually all over the paddocks, visit us. I often see him in the chook pen in the morning but he flies off as soon as he hears me coming to open the gates to let all of the chooks and the gang out for the day. Yesterday I managed to get a few photos of him but it wasn’t easy because he is really shy.
I took Ming to an 18th birthday party last night.
It was NOT a fancy-dress party.
Oh, give me a shy ibis any day!
Despair came to visit today even though I had already told it to go way so many times and thought it had finally given up. It knocks on the door a lot and I ignore it and feel safe because the door is locked. But today, it picked the lock and broke in and, whammo, smashed me just as I was putting the kettle on. And when I fell down, it kicked me and kicked me until I begged it to stop, to please go away. It stopped kicking me but it didn’t go away.
So that was a few hours ago and I have since gotten up, washed the tears off my face and am now developing a plan of how to get rid of it because it’s sitting in the living room, waiting. Do I play the waiting game too and hope, in time, it will give up and go away? Or do I go into the living room and confront it. Despair has the advantage of course because it stopped me from doing all of the things I wanted to do today by snaking its way into my conversations with my son and non-conversations with my husband. It burned the kettle dry and whipped the wind up to blow all of the clean clothes off the line and into the dust of the driveway.
It’s pretty clever, this despair, because it has positioned itself in the middle of the house and created a sort of dividing line between my son’s room and my office, so every time he and I have tried to have a chat, it whips into the conversation and, with incredible skill, turns all the good words into corpses, turns our blue eyes black and laughs derisively when we both slam our doors and give up.
The trouble with banishing despair is that it might simply go somewhere else and inflict itself on someone else, so I have to figure out how to kill it. It has never been so presumptuous before, never made itself so at home before and, when I last sneaked a peek, it was dozing comfortably in the living room, waiting. Waiting for what though? Is it waiting for another mother/son argument, for another wife/husband disappointment, for another bird to be killed by the fox, for another glass of my tears?
How will I kill it before it kills me? I know it hates me laughing because once I saw it shrivel when I laughed. And I know it hates me loving because once I saw it vomit when I hugged Ming and Ants at the same time so maybe I can kill it with more laughter, with more love. But somehow I don’t think that will be enough. After all, this despair has already been able to permeate all of our laughter and love with little drops of dead fly poison.
I wish I had the solution to this predicament.
[I love remembering this kind of thing!]
Ming and I had gone to Bunbury specifically to search out and buy the latest Beyblades DVD, number 2, which had just come out. He already had number 1 so he was terribly excited that I was going to buy the next one for him. He loved these not-too-often, special occasions which he called “shopping spwee days.”
As usual it took a couple of hours to find it as two of the three mains shops that stocked that sort of thing had already sold out. But when we hit the third shop, hurray! Not only did they have Beyblades 2, they even had Beyblades 3!
Then came the crunch. As Ming held the two DVDs in his hot little hands, I told him that he had to choose one. He looked up at me longingly, a deep frown creasing his little forehead, then he looked back at the DVDs. “It’s a vewy differcult desishun, Mummy, isint it?”
I explained that I couldn’t afford both of them and that, even if I could, I didn’t want him to turn into a spoiled brat.
“But I haven’t been nawdy for millions of days, Mummy!” he said, trying to outmaneuver me with a winning smile. But it didn’t work. Well, not at first.
“One DVD and that is that!” I said in a mock stern voice.
“Okay,” he said with a big sigh. “But I havta siddown to fink.” With that, he plonked himself onto the ground and studied every detail of each DVD case for a good ten minutes.
Finally he leapt up and yelled, “Quick Mummy, I done my desishun!” He was obviously wanting to move fast before he changed his mind, which had happened on other occasions – sometimes too late.
Ming had chosen Beyblades 2,but his expression of deep regret as he put back Beyblades 3 got to me, so I secretly picked it up again when he wasn’t looking. I told him to go and check out the other DVDs while I made the purchase. I’d decided to surprise him by buying both.
After putting the package of DVDs in the car, we went to Hungry Jacks which was always part of the “shopping swee day.” Munching on his chips, Ming looked at me thoughtfully. “I fink I shoulda got numba 3, Mummy”. Again the frown.
“Maybe next time,” I said.
“Someone else’s widdle boy’ll get it,” he said sadly.
In the car, before we took off for home, I suggested he take a look at the DVD, so, excited again, he opened up the package. I glanced over to see the shock of his discovery washing over his face, but he didn’t say anything. He just looked up at me, bewildered.
I wondered why he was so quiet, then I saw that his eyes were filled with tears. “Ming!” I exclaimed, “What’s wrong?”
“I’m cwying from happiness, Mummy, look!” He wiped his eyes with the collar of his shirt and showed me the wet patch.
“Weal dwops! That never happened to me before!”
Ming was so blown away by his happy teardrops, that he nearly forgot the extra DVD. I was quite touched.
But as I started the car, he recovered (with remarkable speed, I thought later) and said, “When is numba 4 coming, Mummy?” with a mischievous grin.
There used to be a real stigma attached to the idea of counselling – i.e. that you needed someone to help you sort your emotions out etc. This is no longer the case with most schools employing professional counsellors (psychologists or social workers) and many people seeing counsellors on a regular basis. Ming and I have sought this kind of help a few times, especially during the months when Anthony was still home but deteriorating fast, Ming was getting angrier by the day and I was getting beyond sad.
As I’m sure is obvious from various posts in this blog, I have not adjusted nearly so well as Ming has to Anthony’s moving into a nursing lodge. I guess I had always envisioned that one day Ants and I would both be old people (him 90 and me nearly 70), sitting in rocking chairs on our front veranda, and Ming would be gone, exploring the world in one way or another. I had no way of knowing that instead it would be Anthony gone away and Ming and me here together.
We are not coping well with what Ming continuously refers to as ‘our relationship problems’. The fact that he even cares about our relationship astounds me; after all, he is 18! He gets very angry with me, then gets the guilts and that whole vicious cycle repeats itself. So we have decided to seek the help of a counsellor again. Ming wants a man this time (our previous psychologist was a woman and she was great but it seems Ming is now at the age when he needs a man-to-man talk with someone). The trouble is the guy who has agreed to help us is on holidays for a couple of weeks. In the meantime, I emailed Ming’s primary school headmaster because he has always understood and liked Ming and he agreed to come over tomorrow afternoon to talk to Ming about his angst.
As I was driving Ming into music school this morning (well, he was driving to practise before his driving test in a couple of weeks), we were having our usual bitsy verbal wrangles. So I told him that Henry (name disguised to protect the innocent) was coming over to counsel him tomorrow, and Ming thought is was a great idea – phew!
This was our conversation:
Me: I told him you had angst issues.
Ming: What’s angst?
Me: Aggro.
Ming: Yeah, but that’s only because of you.
Me: What – the fact that my presence irritates you all the time?
Ming: No, not ALL the time, Mum.
You gotta laugh!
Oh how I love remembering the early years of my marriage to Anthony and the joy of our little Ming:
Ming was just a toddler when Anthony and I took him into Bunbury, the nearest town, to see the Australia Day fireworks. It would be his first time. We went in early in order to get a parking space at a place called Boulter’s Heights, where we knew we would be able to view the fireworks from up high and from a slight distance, rather than being in the midst of the throng of revellers down in the main street.
Ming found even the waiting-for-the-fiyaworks exciting (although of course he wasn’t quite sure what fireworks were, except that it needed to be dark). He played with the rapidly increasing group of other little children, while what was a small gathering of adults gradually became huge.
As dusk fell and the crowd of big and little children grew, I kept my eyes trained carefully on Ming in that instinctive “mother bear” way, making sure he wasn’t being bullied or feeling lost. Finally, I retrieved him from a barely visible group of kids and he was safely perched half on my knee and half on Anthony’s when the first fireworks exploded.
The brightness of that very first fireworks “taster” was much more intense – and much closer – than I had expected. Ming flung himself violently backwards against my chest at the visual impact. Silently shocked, he clutched at Anthony’s leg just before the second explosion of enormous light and colour. and the noise!
Ming’s silence made me wonder if perhaps this event was too scary for him. As kaboom followed kaboom, and with the colour, light and people’s shouts of glee surrounding us, I held tight to Ming’s trembling body. Oh no! Maybe he was too little to appreciate fireworks, I thought, as I bent my head into the crook of his neck to see if he was okay.
But I needn’t have worried. Yes, he was briefly mesmerised and frightened. But as the fireworks became more intense, so did the crowd’s pauses become longer and a communal bated breath replaced the noises of impatient anticipation.
It was into one of those pauses that Ming suddenly began to shout, over and over and over again, “DOYALUVITMUMMYDADDY???!!!” And then, “ANDONY, ANDONY, ANDONY!!!DONTCHALUVITMUMMYDADDY???!!!”
Each time Ming yelled this, it was in one of those hushed moments of awe immediately after a fireworks explosion. Within the relatively small hilltop crowd we’d formed, Ming’s exclamations seemed to ring out as clearly as the noise of the fireworks and the people around us started to laugh and clap at his contagious glee.
Eventually, Ming became quieter, disconcerted by the adult attention. Then he got off my lap and toddled awkwardly around me until he was behind me with his chubby little arms around my neck. As the last firework shone out lingeringly, Ming bent his face to my ear.
“DoyaluvitMummy?” he asked again, this time solemnly.
“I love it all right, Ming,” I said, squeezing his hands and grinning at Anthony.
“Mummy,” Ming whispered very softly, as if it were a very important secret. “My tummy is cubbling [cuddling] me!!”
I knew exactly what he meant!
The beautiful thing is that Ants remembers this night too, despite the PDD.
It’s the first day of Spring over here and I want my heart to gallop with excitement but it won’t cooperate. Yesterday afternoon Ming and I had one of our serious talks. These always resemble the kind of discussion a grandfather might have with a small child (Ming = the grandfather; Julie = the small child).
Now it’s not particularly pleasant to be scolded by your teenage son but after much to-ing and fro-ing of our discussion, Ming finally summarized things by saying, “Mum, I just want you back the way you were. I want us to have fun again, I want you to be happy again.” (This was after he told me my office was an appalling mess).
“Is it Dad or me who is stopping you?” Ming asked.
“It’s Anthony, Ming. I just can’t seem to adjust. Come on, give me a break – he’s only been in the nursing lodge for six months. Give me a chance to breathe my grief!”
“You’ve been doing that for too long already, Mum. Please stop. We have to get this place in order – you have to help me!”
“Oh you’re not going to say that dreadful word again are you?”
“Yes, Mum. Teamwork, teamwork, teamwork!”
“Poo, poo, poo!” I retaliated (Ming loathes that word).
Anyway that was yesterday and now it is today. I just saw a blue wren and I am going to vacuum the inside veranda and it’s raining but sunny and later on I will go see Anthony and I will not cry when I get home again because if I do I will have to suffer another Ming discussion.
It’s the first day of Spring here and my heart has begun to walk again. I hope Ming doesn’t get too much of a shock!
Yesterday the ute (truck) died and today it had to be towed into town to a place where they specialize in vehicle resuscitation.
Before Ming had his spinal operation he liked dancing on the roof. He is not allowed to do this anymore.
Today’s photo journey with Ants may not happen until late, maybe even tomorrow, because we have to wait to hear from the vehicle resuscitation people first. I spoke to Anthony on the phone and he was okay about this except for a new melancholic voice thing he has recently acquired.
I have acquired a new pragmatic voice thing and told him to stuff it up his jumper (it’s okay, we both laughed).
The pest control people are coming tomorrow morning to inspect our white ant (termite) problem and eradicate it and then charge us a small fortune that I will pay happily but begrudgingly. I did ask them if they could do it for free but they said no.
We now have more wild rabbits here that I have even seen – whole families of rabbits EVERYWHERE. Yes, they are cute, but they are also digging up the foundations of all of the buildings and I have noticed that the house is tilting a bit (kidding!) I am once again considering the gun option.
Thanks to Tootlepedal’s blog, I have become more interested in flowers and am planning my sunflower garden. I figure if I plant zillions then the birds can have some and we can have some. I am very excited about this idea but haven’t put it into action yet.
Ming has begun volunteering one morning a week at Djidi djidi Aboriginal school and he loves it. http://www.deewr.gov.au/Indigenous/Schooling/Documents/CaseStudyDjidiDjidiAboriginalSchool.pdf
I am going to buy some hedgeclippers tomorrow to prune the roses before my gardening friend comes over on Friday because I want to impress her.
The new chooks are laying copious amounts of eggs and so is Tapper, our female duck, so I am trying new egg recipes (in my mind I mean – I haven’t done them yet).
Ming has written two beautiful songs for his Certificate 4 in music. He is also trying to grow a beard.
The beautiful people at the university’s computer department have put all of my writings onto a thumb drive for me and tomorrow I get my final pay check.
There seems to be some reluctance from the nursing lodge to employ me and I am still waiting for this verdict.
I found four beautiful things to post to Nia who gave me the beautiful cushion/pillow cushions.
Ming wants to be a dairy farmer like Anthony and I am thrilled. He works for our neighbours on a part-time basis and loves it!
The little girl who has had nearly two years of battling cancer is home again, thank God.
Our friend who was in the car accident three weeks ago is gradually recovering, thank God.
I am learning, via the blogs I read, that every single moment is a gift.
Okay, I don’t do this all the time but today a woman behind a counter served me with a smile even though she could see the desperate, psycho look in my eyes.
“This is a mobile phone,” I began (which, in hindsight, seems a rather obvious thing to say as I was in a mobile phone shop).
She smiled, patiently and asked, “And….?”
“Well we bought it from you guys and it belongs to my husband who is in a nursing home and it’s supposed to be easy to operate but he can’t answer it before the five rings and I want the message thing eradicated and I have brought it back twice and rung all of those numbers and followed all of the prompts but I still can’t get the stupid thing to ring more than five times and all of his family and mine are going mad because nobody can get through to him and twice the stupid message my son put on my husband’s phone has been eradicated but it keeps returning like some sort of phone ghost and….”
“Would you like me to take a look at the phone?” she asked calmly.
“Yes, okay,” I said uncalmly, “but we have been here before and done this before and honestly I am really going insane and people are getting angry with me because they can’t get through to my husband even though I have changed all the settings and my brilliant son has altered all of the thingys and why won’t it work?” By now, Ming, having had a nice chat with someone he bumped into, was at my side whispering to me that I was getting a bit loud.
During my little rant (and I wasn’t really that loud), I had half noticed that the woman serving me was pressing buttons on her phone, our phone, a computer, another phone, and another computer, at such astonishing speed that for a moment I thought she had 50 fingers. And then she handed me the phone, demonstrated how it would now ring out before cutting into the stupid message bank thing, and my whole body wilted with relief that finally this ongoing problem was solved.
But, just before I decided to smile back at this woman who I now felt resembled an angel, I said, “But we’ve done this before and it reverted back to the same problem, so how do we know it’s going to work for sure this time?”
“Oh,” she said, “I have the code, so it’s quite simple. You won’t have any more problems with this,” she said, again handing me Anthony’s phone and glancing at Ming in a way that indicated that (a) she’d had enough of us, and (b) she admired him for coping with me (yes, I really did see that kid-versus-parent-empathy, flick of the eye-lash exchange between them).
OMG – the phone was fixed? After all my struggles with it? A miracle.
“I LOVE YOU!” I whooped at the woman who had served me, and she smiled with the joy of her job and waved us goodbye and then I let out another whoop of joy as Ming and I left the shop to go and take the phone back to Anthony.
jmgoyder 