Walk this road with me

Walk this road with me

I look ahead and I see this pitch dark road ahead. Just a few glowing lights here and there. I need to get to the end safely and I need to stop crying. There’s nothing wonderful and fantastic at the end, just chaos and conflict and heartache. Things that have become entrenched as part of my life. I never asked for this.

Why am I crying? Because I’m scared and alone and how did my life come to such a hopeless mess? I feel as if I’m thrown into this mess and left there trying to make something of nothing. A bit of help wouldn’t hurt. 😦

So I think, I need support… who is there for me to stand by my side and give me some strength to do this? Let me get hold of a few friends… dang… all busy with their lives.

Will someone please walk next to me… just be here for me…. I’m so scared of lonely.

A big day for us tomorrow

A big day for us tomorrow

Tomorrow I’m taking my littlest son, Joshua, into hospital to have grommets inserted into his ears and to have his adenoids removed at the same time. Okay, Joshua is 5yo in October and he’s a big built boy, but he was such a little baby and he’s my youngest so of course he’ll always stay small and squishy in my eyes.

The reason Joshua is having grommets inserted is because he has severe recurring ear infections that hurt him a lot. Fluid keeps building up in his middle ear and not draining out so inserting a grommet in each ear will drain out this fluid. Removing his adenoids are also going to help.

We discovered this year that Joshua’s speech problems are due to the above. So after he’s had his grommets inserted, we can start him on speech therapy, because he doesn’t pronounce all his words and letters properly. E.G. He can’t say “sit”, he says “shit”. lol shame… I keep thinking he’s swearing. Or we’ll be out and he’ll say “Mommy I want to sit”… and I’m hearing “Mommy I want to shit”. Erm yeah… big huge difference.

I hear this op is going to make the world of difference to Joshua, and that’s what it’s all about at the end of the day, improving his quality of life.

So, although this is a routine op at the hospitals and many many children have undergone these procedures, please think of my littlest Joshua and me tomorrow at hospital. It’s the first time he’s going under general anaesthesia (sp) and I’ll have to hold him while they do this. So any prayers and positive thoughts that you have spare, please send some our way. Thanking you. ❤

It’s not fair! *stomps foot*

It’s not fair! *stomps foot*

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!!!

My stupid alarm rang this Tuesday morning at the glorious “rise and shine” time of 5:30am. It’s winter, dark and cold. And I’m tired. I so badly want to sleep some more, just a bit more… so I hit the “snooze” button. A blink later and it’s off again…

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!!!

Argh… Nooooo! I get up and shut the offending sound off. Sit and stare into the dark, sleeping with my eyes opened. Wake the hell up Karin! I peel of the layers of clothes (I dress like a Yeti in winter at bedtime) and enter the shower. This always does the trick and thank goodness this morning it still works like a charm in waking me up.

After this I go into the kitchen, make coffee and lunches for the boys and I. Joshua was awake just after me so we were chatting while I did the morning routine. It was past the time for Matthew to wake up, so I got into bed next to him, hugged him and softly told him to wake up. He moaned, he groaned, he wanted to sleep more. *sigh* Don’t we all. I tried my best, but thought i’d let him have an extra 5 minutes.

After 4 minutes it sounded like an ogre had entered the lounge/kitchen area of my flat. Matt came stomping through, red-faced, hair standing up all over the place, eyes huge and angry. And boy did he moan and groan. He lay on the couch in the lounge, moaning because Josh was talking, because Josh was breathing, moaning because he wanted to sleep and why wasn’t it weekend? May I remind you, this is only Tuesday.

I told him about sunshine and butterflies waiting for him outside and a whole new day to play and make new friends. The death stare I got in return I accepted as I kinda felt I deserved that one.

Then the tears started. He sobbed and moaned so much about having to wake up. He covered himself in a blanket and kicked and fought with nothing. Poor Josh got the brunt of it. I did intervene of course, but it made me stand and watch this story and think… It’s not fair!

I also want to kick and scream and cry and moan when it’s wake-up time! I also want to tell everyone to shut the hell up so I can go back to sleep! I also want to cover myself with a blanket and kick and tell the world to bugger off until I FEEL like waking up. I want to stomp my foot and sound like an ogre and be angry with everyone around me for having stupid sunny-shiny smiles on their faces! *THWACK*

But I’m a big people now. A grown-up. Which means I can’t do that, especially a single-mom grown-up. I have to get up, without complaining so that I can cheer the boys up to face their day with a smile, while inwards I can’t wait to swallow my anti-depressant… which is my “little helper”. hehe… I have to make lunches, walk the boys to school and then get a bus to town, then walk a bit to get another bus to my office complex. Walk into the complex to my building and work.

I guess just watching this tantrum unfold this morning made me chuckle inside as I thought to myself… “My son, this is NOTHING! Wait until life starts actually getting harder”. I can just imagine myself all old and grey, telling my 30 year old son to think of sunshine and butterflies and playing with new friends. He’d have me admitted for sure. Hey, at least I can sleep late there!

Har har plonk!

Har har plonk!

I’ve come to see that it’s apparently acceptable to make fun of abused women via sexist jokes.

Hey, I love jokes and sexist jokes are well entertaining. It’s the ones that involve making fun of physical abuse against women that really get my back up.

A colleague stood in the office kitchen this morning and told me about three different jokes about battered women. He was killing himself laughing. My reaction? I just looked at him and carried on with the business that I was doing there at that time. I truly don’t know why I always keep quiet.

I should have politely and tactfully told him off… but yeah I didn’t. I sorta just smiled and waved. Why though? One joke was : “What do you say to a woman with two black eyes? Nothing, she’s been told twice already”. Har har fuckety plonk.

I actually don’t know what else to say about this. I’m a bit too emotional about violence against women. I’ve seen women at the family violence courts, faces swollen and bleeding, squinting through their bruised swollen eyes at the Restraining Order paper that they are trying to complete to try and stop the bastard that did this to her, from doing it to her again. I’ll never forget seeing this. What was I doing at that place? Well, completing the same form.

I can imagine if I stand up to a man telling jokes about abused women, that I’d get the evil eyes from all standing around listening. That I’d be the party pooper or the stick in the mud. The one who can’t take a joke.

Would it be as funny if it happened to your sister or your daughter? Nah, I didn’t think so.

The Fuckit List

The Fuckit List

So many people have a “Bucket List”… which is a list of things they want to do/accomplish before they die.

Well, I thought about it and decided I want to create a “Fuckit List” for myself. A list of things that I can just write down on a piece of paper, say adios to, and shred in the paper shredder, literally.

We carry around so much stress, anger, resentment, hatred, negativity etc, that it just makes a person’s life miserable and pushes you closer to needing a Bucket List.

So from now on, all those things that make me unhappy, stressful, that hurt me, including the people responsible therefore, are going on my Fuckit List.

My Shutters Have Been Cracked

My Shutters Have Been Cracked

My heart is full and happy, gosh it’s been a while hey? I’ve been working on myself and getting out of the whole dating game has helped a lot to put me in a good place. A place where I’m happy with me, where I am and where I am going in my life. It’s also afforded me even more priceless time time with the 2 most important little men in my life, my sons.

So my shutters are cracked? Nah, I thought so, but sadly not. Many moons (okay blog entries) ago, I wrote how I’d love a man to sing me the song “Crack The Shutters” by Snow Patrol, and how it would have me fall head over heels for him. Well, I’ve decided he doesn’t necessarily have to sing me that song (poor guy, I’ll give him a break). Rather, just treat me and love me in the way that that song is sung. It’s a beautiful, loving, sensual, caring song and you can hear how much the writer loves the woman he wrote those lyrics about. That’s what I want, more than anything, is to be loved like that, by a man who treats me like a Princess. Of course I’d treat him like the Prince he is. All fairytales you say? Perhaps just all tales…

If You Ever Come Back

If You Ever Come Back

Dear Danny, Mark and Glen (the band members of The Script),

All hail the Dublin dudes, The Script!

You are touring here in South Africa in the latter part of June 2011, in Johannesburg and Cape Town. Just so you know, I am gutted. 😦 Think along the lines of your song “Exit Wounds”. Yip, it’s *that* bad.

I live in Durban and am in no financial position to travel to Joburg or Cape Town to see you perform live. (I’m the woMan Who Can’t be Moved). Oh wow and wow again… the thought of seeing you live gives me goose bumps every time.

I am so in love with your music, your poetic lyrics and Danny’s voice, so charged with emotion, when he sings… you are a band like no other.

I know the evenings of the concert I’m going to tear up (“We Cry”) that I can’t be there to see you, but perhaps, like your song “If You Ever Come Back”, I’ll be able to see you then.

I hope your tour of our beautiful country, South Africa, leaves you happy and wanting more.

A fantabulous fan, Karin. xxx