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Seeing the Man: Happy Birthday Jules

by admin on November 7, 2012 in , with No comments

Give me the child until he is seven, and I will show you the man.

So, looks like we’ve done our job then. Ah well, you’re on your own. Time to get a job…

Jules. My kind, funny, odd, smart baby Jules. My easygoing, sweet, Angry Birds-obsessed son. I apologise for using a clichéd phrase as the theme for this birthday letter, but hey, you are seven. And because we are in a place where I need to focus on the bigger picture, I often think about the man you will become. Grandma used to say that phrase a lot too, so, as I sit down to write, it is the most prominent thought.

Part of me hopes that it isn’t true, because I get you full time next year and I like to think that I can somehow undo some of the damage. Despite there being very good reasons for me being absent, I know how it affects you. I know it has hurt you. It has hurt me too. But I hope that one day, when you are a man, because we have done a good job, you have the capacity to understand and forgive.

I am so excited that you are coming to live with me. And I have to be honest, I am also terrified, because I know that there is a chance that your Dad is right, and you will want to go back to him after 3 months. I have learned to deal with my decision not to fight. I have learned to accept the emotional fallout of how my decisions are represented to you. I have learned to accept that someone else is raising my children. And I am thrilled that you have so many grownups that love you and want what is best for you, even if I end up on the periphery.

I chose this. It is difficult. It is painful. I frequently question my decision. But I have realised that even if I lived around the corner – I am forever the bad guy as long as I make my own choices. It occurred to me, earlier in the year, as I was being chastised for my apartment in West Perth… that no matter what I do, I am wrong. It occurred to me, when I was making the decision to move to Sydney, that even if I did suck it up for 10 years, living in a city I hate, with no career progression or other things that make me happy – I would still be wrong and that bar would just keep moving.

It’s why we are not together anymore. By opting out of the relationship, I opted out of the abuse. I let him have his way, avoid conflict, and try to make it work. And I just keep writing these letters… so that one day… when you are a man… you will understand.

But I am excited, because you are coming to live with me! And even though that also causes me intense fear… I still have hope that your Dad is wrong. Because I am a good mother. And I love you and can give you all of the support that you need. And if you do decide that you want to go back, I will not take it personally – because you should never have to choose. You have 3 parents that love you, and because of that, I am happy.

So in less than 6 weeks, you will be here with your brother and sister for Christmas. Then, it’s you and I. And Angus some of the time. So even though I am unable to make it today… I am hanging onto 6 weeks time, as the time I get my beautiful boy with me, full time. And despite some of the damage done in your first seven years, and even though despite this I know and love the man you will no doubt be, I will do my absolute best to make it right.

Happy birthday,

Mum.

Eleven.

by admin on September 6, 2012 in , , , with No comments

Mina, it’s your birthday and you are…OMFG… Eleven years old. I have posted this early for many reasons – partly because I am travelling on your actual birthday and time gets away from me when I get back, but also being the night before I fly to see you for your birthday, it just seems the right time (and mindset) to write your birthday post. With wine. Having missed you for a month.

It’s amazing, actually, the kind of pressure I feel now as I write this, not only because of my absence in your day-to-day life and trying to say something meaningful and reassuring that will somehow, magically, make up for that (I know it won’t), but also because this year, I heard the words that will make any mother recoil in horror:

“I read your blog, Mum”.

It’s enough to stop me dead in my tracks, really. Despite you not having a problem with it and reassuring me that you liked reading my posts, I have to be honest – I contemplated not writing a birthday post at all, because I know you are growing up and don’t necessarily need your mother gushing about you online for all and sundry to read. I want you to know that I nearly didn’t. But… bear with me. I promise I won’t embarrass you (too much).

It’s strange how something as simple as a blog post can come to mean so much, and have so much impact on someone’s life, as it has mine. This blog, that I have been writing for all of the time you have existed on this planet, well… it is quite an extraordinary thing to read back on. Much like going through old photo albums, going through and reading the letters I have written to you in the past provides just… so much reflection and insight into my thoughts and state of mind at the time. And I feel that pang of regret when I read it, because, there were times when life was a lot easier for you. And life will get harder, and more complex, and… well…

Much like photographs, my blog entries, for better or worse are a snapshot in time, that one day, will hopefully provide you with comfort.

I speak from experience.

As you probably know, I have a photograph that is 1″ wide and 1.5″ tall, in an oval frame, sitting on my bookshelf. It is innocuous, barely even noticeable, but it is the only photograph that I have of Grandma Chris, because she avoided photos. Well, that and our fractured family meant that, basically, I have one photo.

But, Grandma’s reluctance and fear of embarrassment means that now… there’s no photos. No record. I know it’s morbid, but…

I don’t want that for you. I want you to understand, and know that I love you. Have it written here, stored by the Internet in forever-land, that I battled daily with my decision to move away. But, I love you, and I fought, and continue to try to make it work. I made choices that I think will be better, and provide you with opportunities that can’t be provided in Perth, in the long term. And hopefully make you see that there is a world bigger than sitting around, staring at the TV, waiting to die.

It’s strange though, having written this blog for this long, that in part was started so that you would read about the cute and funny things you said and have a laugh at the “letters in a shoebox” when you were older… has, through the life of the blog, somehow morphed into this big, complicated need to tell my “side of the story”. My actual side of the story will come when you are an adult. In private. That is a private discussion that will no doubt occur, but just know that, in those moments where you doubt that I love you, or that I don’t miss you, or that I am not doing my very best with a situation where my hands are tied… I want you to know that… I’ve done my very best.

And that, right there, is why I decided to write the post. So you don’t have a 1″ photograph when you need me, and know that… in my words… that it’s going to be OK.

Happy birthday.

Mum x

Rock star be six.

by admin on November 7, 2011 in , , with No comments

Jules.

My baby Julesy. My rock star, my shining light. My first foray into being the mother of a boy. My buddy, my quiet child, my geek.

My noodle-eater, my dag, my clown, my Mina-tormenter, my intense and utterly beautiful, kind-hearted son.

You’re six. SIX.

FUCK.

I remember writing Mina’s 6th Birthday post and that was 4 years ago.

I remember writing your birthday post about the Cheesecake shop raining Skittles from heaven and rescuing me from a cake disaster.

I remember this.

I remember this.

I remember this.

And this.

And this.

And this.

I remember Wiggles concerts.

I remember Pixar movie after Pixar movie.

I remember Wank. I remember… well…

everything, mate.

And I am watching them all tonight and grinning from ear to ear. It speaks for itself really :)

And I am just so immensely proud of you, I am finding it hard to put into words. Because, there was a time I was worried about you. And I am sorry for doubting you, because I was wrong. I have absolutely nothing to worry about, because you are kind, smart, cheeky and absolutely anything anyone could ever want in a son. Not that anyone else can have you because you are MY boy. And I am glad you chose me to be your Mum.

I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you on your actual birthday this year. As I am sure you know by the time you are reading this… I have health problems that sometimes prevent me from being able to do the things I want to do. This year, it was because you had 2 infections and it’s just too risky when I am in the middle of a flare. I felt awful and cried for a good portion of the weekend, because, well, noone really wants to be quarantined from their own children… but… my illness is getting more manageable as time goes on and hopefully, this will be a mere blip. Because you know I love you. I love you all, but Julesy, you have a special place in my heart.

It took me a while to really bond to you. Because I was prepared for losing you at 25 weeks, it was hard to not keep a safe emotional distance for the remainder of the pregnancy. Add to that the shock of having 2 kids (hahaha haha haha…. yeah)… well.. you know. But, you know I came back. And you are my special baby and always will be, even when you tower over me and smell like feet.

Keep being you.

I love you,

Mum

Pondering.

by admin on January 17, 2011 in , , , with No comments

Where is my head at? I’ve been wondering this for quite some months.

Did I leave the marriage for the right reasons? I was unhappy at the end, but in so many ways, he was a sanctuary from the world.

I wonder, if we hadn’t had so many end on end crises for 3 years…would I have been so unhappy?

Did I leave because I couldn’t cope with the damage the last 3 years did to both of us? Did I leave because of my own grief and despair?

On one hand, I am happier now I have left. I am optimistic that things will work out for the best. I rebounded heavily into a relationship that in another set of circumstances would have been “the one”. But, it didn’t work out and that’s ok.

But then I wonder to myself, is it fair to be pursuing this notion of an idealised relationship? Can I even trust my own judgement?

Because… it’s not all about me.

Is it fair to be seeking this idealised notion of a soulmate, at the expense of my children?

Because, even though I was unhappy at the end, when things were good, they were good. He’s a good man. A good man with an upbringing. A good man who has always been a safe place to land and who I did love.

I am not deciding to go back, but I am merely reflecting on the question… of whether I am being selfish. And, through my depression, can’t see what’s right in front of me. And whether making it work is more rewarding in the long run?

Maybe love *is* a choice? Maybe I am chasing my own ideals. Maybe I’m not even going to find it.

And the fact that it would be operationally easier, better for my kids, and a hell of a lot less exposing and painful for both of us is tempting.

My mother sought her own happiness at the expense of her children. Maybe this is just another pattern I am doomed to repeat?

I am going into counselling this week… I have acknowledged that I have some major grief, some post traumatic stress and some major fucked up childhood stuff to deal with. I am aware that I don’t know who I am without external validation or labels. Which is why figuring it out is important. I’m codependent. But at the same time, I’m potentially fucking up my children in the process and it’s not a factor I consider lightly.

Are there any other people out there who have separated, been certain that they are at the end, but still come back from the brink? I wonder if we should put in the effort. Seek counselling, learn to communicate, learn to love. Because I don’t know if I do trust myself  or my feelings anymore. I thought I knew what I wanted. Thought I had read a situation correctly and I was wrong. I thought that if I took a risk it would pay off. But maybe I am just kidding myself?

The Saboteur…

by admin on January 5, 2008 in with No comments

Mina has always made up her own funny little songs. For as long as she’s been able to speak, she’s always made up funny little songs with random lyrics, often having us in stitches.

Today, she decided she was going to put a concert on for us and sing a couple of songs, and I even filmed a little of it before my camera battery ran out (Stupid Everio loses charge)…

[youtube:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KGaROzBa8IY]

Anyway, not long after this, Mina broke into a random made-up song about Santa. Apparently he discovered a cliff, fell off the cliff and died, and went and met a woman… or some weird shit… anyway, Jason starts helping her with funny song lines (the tendency for Brennan conversations to digress like this are not uncommon)… and WITH NO VIDEO CAMERA ON, Mina cracks it and says “Stop it Dad! You’re just trying to STUFF THIS ALL UP FOR ME!”

And, just because it’s funny, here is some video of Mr J getting in the way of Mina’s concert:

[youtube:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yErvKQBj8_M]

If anyone ever asks you what’s so great about being a parent? Its those completely random and daggy moments, where they lob into each other’s “concerts”, or thump each other, where you get this inexplicable warmth in your belly that you made these little people.

Happy Birthday Jules

by admin on November 20, 2007 in with No comments

(aka How the Cheesecake Shop Saved the Day)

Well, aren’t I the worst mother on the planet this week, Jules? It is a whole 13 Days since your birthday and I haven’t gotten around to writing your birthday message until just now. Unfortunately it’s a scenario that is all too familiar with the second and subsequent children, where they get used to having to share everything, whether it be your toys, your parents’ attention, or your sister’s Cinderella toothbrush (what *is* your fascination with that thing anyway?), competing for laughs, attention and time seems to be something that is inbuilt.

Right now you are being forced to compete a bit with my crazy workload. It has been fantastic since your Dad starting working full time with me, because both of us are not only enjoying working together (yes, despite the odd tantrum and more than a few go-fuck-yourself-I never-want-to-see-you-again-and-why-oh-why-does-he-chew-so-loud along the way) but we also get to spend a whole lot more one-on-one time with you.

And it really does take the attention of 2 people with you these days, because given the smallest window of opportunity, you are either into things, or on top of things, or eating things. I never even really knew what a real toddler was like until you started being one, what with your sister being a completely calm, pretty and smart freak of nature and genetics, never did I have any need to childproof, or worry about anything. Not that you would know it now, of course, but back then, seriously dude, I promise, she was easygoing.

But it made me kinda complacent in many respects. So much so that it never even occurred to me that you could walk out the front door and up the road, when the door was left open (by someone whose identity has been protected….lets call her Mina B. No, wait, lets go with M. Brennan. heh.). Lucky that you didn’t make it past the driveway before that nice lady brought you back, eh?

It probably sounds like I am being blasé about the idea of my 2 year old son walking the streets — that isn’t the case at all and I had a panic attack when I contemplated all of those things that COULD HAVE HAPPENED to my boy. I don’t know whether I just have a massive brain tumour that blocks my capacity to anticipate danger (I used to walk to work at midnight in the city at 17, and I didn’t even think about it), or whether never having to worry about Mina has made me TOO relaxed in many respects, but I certainly am not much of a worrier. In fact, I often make fun of those mothers that hover over their kids as if, somehow, if they try hard enough, they can prevent everything.

That, coupled with the fact that I am just so busy, means that sometimes, I take you completely for granted, and forget the hard time we had keeping you in my belly. It seems like a lifetime ago, but also like yesterday — it is such a mind trip to see my little baby boy becoming a BIG boy, who runs and jumps and screams “niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiina. niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiina. niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiina.” at 6am, comes out of his room, jumps on my bed right next to me my head and goes “1, 2, 3… WAKE UP JULES!”. Yes, at times like that, I completely take you for granted, and cannot deny that when I am woken up at 6am, the temptation to run my car into a lake with both of you in the boot of my car grows. But I promise, that feeling of complete and utter frustration lasts for little more than half a second – till I open my eyes to see your beaming little face, looking at me like I am the only person on Earth that matters to you, and all of a sudden this feeling comes over me, like, wow, how do I get to hang out with the coolest little dude on the planet? Seriously.

You are a complete Wiggles nutter, and we bought you everything Wiggles related for your birthday. I swear, I don’t think I will ever see something so funny as your reaction to getting Wiggles related ANYTHING. Of course, your love of the Wiggles means that THE WIGGLES ARE ON DAY AND NIGHT AND THEY DRIVE ME FUCKING BONKERS. Please remind me to play the same songs over and over and over again on full volume when you are studying for your TEE… because that is my day.

But, its one of the funniest things ever to watch you singing along, dance in your unco-toddler way, wearing your Wiggles shirt that is grubby-but-you-insist-on-wearing-it-every-minute-of-every-day, and being – well – just – a delight.

It wouldn’t be a birthday post without me sharing my latest Cake disaster. I really do wonder if I will EVER learn that cake decoration is NOT LIKE GRAPHIC DESIGN, and that just because I can make an awesome cake illustration, it DOES NOT NECESSARILY MEAN THAT I CAN DO IT WITH ICING.

In my deluded and arrogant state, I attempted to make you an elaborate race track car with licorice, smarties and a sponge cake. My grandma led me to believe that this was SIMPLE. EASY! Bullshit. Who knew that sponge cake, when filled with whipped cream, would collapse if you put stuff on it?

Seriously. Not even Rainbow sprinkles could save this one.

Sprinkle This!

It tasted good, but now noone can utter the phrase “arse cake” without me thinking of this monstrosity. Yes, that name came from your father.

So, first thing on the morning of the 7th, I was running about like a maniac trying to find a cake. I went to the Cheesecake Shop and asked the guy if I could buy one of those printed icing sheets and put it on a mudcake. He not only put the sheet on for me, but he decorated it with some skittles around the edges too. All hail the guy at The Cheesecake Shop in Morley, because for $30, he saved my life:

Yay

If only the surgeon who saved my life last year would’ve been so cheap…

Today you were genuinely sad to see Mina go to school. Normally you are dancing about, playing in your own little world, and merely tolerating your sister’s presence as the cost of being a Brennan… but just lately you have become really attached to her. So much so that, this morning, I had to explain to your endless “Nina? Gone? Nina? Gone?” that she had gone to school and would be back this afternoon.

That’s not to say that you don’t both fight like crazy, but it’s so great to see you and your sister bonding and acting like actual, real siblings. It won’t be long before you are tormenting her about boys, towering over her and fighting over who gets the phone, but I hope that, in the future, you will love and protect each other and look out for each other.

So, Happy Birthday, Jules, forgive me for the lateness – and – talk to you next year.

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