Definitely Hit the “I Hate You Mum” Stage

All parents know that raising children means experiencing a series of stages – stages that consistently barrel into your life one after the other - and along that journey are stages all parents fervently hope pass them by. It’s often wishful thinking, but sometimes we do get lucky – for example I didn’t suffer too much of the temper tantrum stuff - however the reality is, most of the time we don’t get bloody lucky. Instead, these growing up stages come crashing through our lives like tidal waves of emotional shit, and all we can do is smile and remember: resist persist. But it’s definitely not easy.

I am now in one of the least appealing stages – the one I desperately hoped to skip - and that is the “I hate you Mum” stage, closely followed by the “I’m so angry with you Mum” stage – awesome. And yes, I completely appreciate that it might be hard to imagine my two angelic cherubs ever saying such hurtful things….

The first couple of times it felt as though a big sharp dagger was being plunged into my heart – cruel little bastards. And then I just got over it, because well, you just do. These days I usually respond with something classy like: Oh well, you’ll get over it; Pull your head in; Who died and made you king?; or Well if you don’t hate me sometimes darling, I won’t be doing a very good job as your Mum now will I?

I am definitely working on the creativity of my responses, but the truth is, it usually leaves me a bit bereft of words. The most bizarre part is it often has absolutely nothing to do with anything I’ve actually done. Fair enough, I’m being a grumpy bitch, I understand it if they hate me then. I sometimes hate me then too. But most of the time, it’s because some other little angel has hurt their feelings and the best person to take it out on is Mum. Awesome. Or they’re feeling embarrassed because they fell over in front of someone, and Mum gets it for that too. Or something else equally charming.

Jax is also offering a double-bonus during this stage and that is his ability to get angry and stay angry. This week I started reading the boys a book before bed. They then decided to play with their toys. No problem, if that’s how they want to spend pre-bed time, I’m cool with that, but when I turned the light off, all hell broke loose. Jax demanded I read a book to him and I said “no mate, you made your choice to play with toys and now it’s time for bed.”

Well the tears and the anguish – “crikey mate, calm down. You’ve got to accept responsibility for the choices you make. That’s life darls.”

He didn’t calm down and when I went in for my final five minute ‘how was your day’ conversation, he turned away and ignored me. I went back in three times to try and make friends, but he didn’t give me an inch. I absolutely hated him going to sleep still feeling angry with me – that hurt. Of course, in the morning, it was all over. That’s the beauty of kids, they just get over bollocks.

So here I am, in the middle of this storm. It will pass, it always does, and then something else will come along and kick me in my emotional arse. Why exactly do we have children again?

Yours, without the bollocks

Andrea

Pseudoephedrine is my Nemesis

When you have a significant sinus infection, the thing you reach for is Sudafed or Zyrtec D – job done! Well I can’t do that, at night anyway. If I take it in the day time it leaves me all discombobulated, but I can cope with that. However, at night it turns me into a tossing and turning mess, with excessive anxiety-laden dreams and when I wake up, I feel like I’ve been punched in the face!

The problem is, if you can’t sort out your sinus, you can’t sleep. If you can’t sleep, you can’t get better. So it’s a catch-22 that does my head in every time. When I feel a sinus infection coming on, I immediately turn into the biggest moaning, unhappy bitch on the planet, because I know there is NOTHING I can do about it. I just want it over – right now, this very minute and that is all.

Every time a sinus infection crops up, I scan the Island for possible options to help me out. I’ve tried every natural remedy available, and I’ve also tried the medicines that do not have pseudoephedrine included – the doctors always assure me they are exactly the same. BOLLOCKS. They are not the same. And when pseudoephedrine isn’t even breaking through the road block, the alternative options don’t stand a chance. Trust me, I know.

But then I consider what it was like in the days before we had so many drugs to choose from. Can you imagine having some of the illnesses we regularly encounter today even 100 years ago – with no central heating available (not that this is an issue in Singapore) - where you either got over it or the most simple of maladies quite simply killed you? I am glad to be alive today that’s for sure, even if it means suffering a pseudoephedrine hell-night occasionally… It could be much worse after all.

So I sit here teary-eyed and itchy-nosed, with little expectation of a good night tonight, and I have a silent hope the antibiotics  kick in quickly – because that’s the only way I can get rid of sinus infections – always reminding myself that life is pretty great, there’s nothing worth moaning about because I am a lucky gal, and perhaps slowing down a little bit for a couple of days won’t be a bad thing for me to do after all?

I just wish I wasn’t so bloody sensitive to today’s drugs and chemicals. Life would be a lot easier if I didn’t have so much to avoid.

With that, any suggestions to share minus pseudoephedrine?

Yours, without the bollocks

Andrea

A Reminder to Stroll

I was sitting in Soho with my fabulous cousin-in-law Caroline (aka Winks pictured) last Saturday, and off in the distance this man came into view. He was incredibly tall, had bright blue trousers and a very long umbrella. Thinking back on this moment, the only accessory missing was a bowler hat – it would have been perfect. He was not a handsome man by most definitions (although certainly regal), and he stood out because amidst the frantic pace of humanity rushing to and fro, he just strolled amongst us – there wasn’t a hurried or harried moment in him.

He was really quite superb and it made me stop in my tracks and think: “you know what, I’ve got to remember to stroll.” Winks agreed. We then watched everyone else, and all we could see was fast walking, stressed brows, along with panicked dodging and ducking through the crowds… well except for the bucks’ parties who were wasted and carrying each other through the streets. I wondered what the rush was all about considering it was a Saturday? But us humans are on overdrive these days, and if we could all only slow down a little.

The truth is, I know I am a hurried walker most of the time – I do everything a million miles an hour, and I rarely remember to just stroll and take in the moment. My Dad is a stroller and he never hurries his pace, no matter what goes on around him, Steve’s a bit of a stroller too, but it was my blue pant man in London that gave me a great reminder to take on board – a reminder to smell the proverbial roses from time to time. I’m definitely better at going slower these days, but he personified it in a way that had a real impact on me. Not to mention the fact I noticed him in the melee shows me I’m paying attention too!

Going into the month of April I didn’t have too many goals, mainly continuing to focus on my photography project – this time “Singapore Workers.” But I didn’t do that and instead took lots of pics of other great stuff, including fabulous people and buildings in London (see a smoking penguin and ancient reflections in modern architecture). I also aimed not to bitch or moan for the month at all, which I succeeded at about 75 percent of the time. Then again, I had a few big obstacles to contend with, which included thinking I was dying and finding out my five year old  needed eight fillings because he has compressed molars – the last of which is a tough nut for me to swallow.

Looking ahead, I’m back in Singapore most of the month, and my goal for May is to be kind to myself. I realized last month that I am bloody brutal with myself. I criticize everything about me, and it’s just got to stop. Why the hell would I do it anyway? I’m a good person, with a good heart, and yet I rip myself to shreds every day. So every time I think I’m ugly, I’ve got to replace it with you’re foxy, when I think I’m turning into a middle aged bag, I’ve got to say you’re young, vibrant and gorgeous, every time I think I’m stupid, I’ve got to say you’re smart, in-tune with people and got a lot to offer, etc… You get the gist. It’s always been that way and I don’t know why it started, but it did start and it’s time to stop. I know my husband would definitely appreciate it.

If I can stop the self-criticism I know I can really move forward into an even more loving and kind place, because we’ve got to be kind to ourselves first if we want to share the love with those around us. My FIE crusade is all about getting to the happiest place I can achieve, and step-by-step I do believe it is possible BUT it’s definitely not easy.

Falling back on old, negative programming – the stuff most of us aren’t even aware we carry – is so easy to do. Breaking out of it and rising above it, now that is a challenge worth pursuing, and I’m in fast pursuit that’s for sure. The thing I’m really learning going through this process, though, is that it is much easier to stay where you are, rather than pushing through and being greater. Interesting that.

April has been a great month on many levels, but this month of May is going to be even better – I’m expecting awesomeness every day I wake up, maybe with a couple of shabby days in the mix if I want to be realistic. Then again, it’s started pretty shabbily with a big flu kicking me in the arse…

Anyone else in hot pursuit of more happiness?

Yours, without the bollocks

Andrea

Personal & Professional Enrichment

When I launched my personal “Fuck it Enough” crusade back on the 1^st Jan 2013, one of my core goals was to join the traditional workforce again, as opposed to working for myself. This decision was made after a lot of navel gazing led to the recognition I needed to be around really smart and inspiring people again, as well as to spend less time in the company of my own mind. I’ve done plenty of time in my head and it ain’t always pretty. With the decision made, the power of the universe seemed to go into overdrive and within weeks, I was offered a cracking position and had to start straight away. PANIC!

It’s been two months since then, and to say this change has been a total spin out is an understatement. From the little stuff of getting my life sorted so I can get out the door on time, all the way to the big stuff like dealing with the boys’ emotions now that Mummy isn’t around so much, well let’s just say, it’s been an intense transition and sometimes not easy. I expected that, but then, I never do anything by halves.

So amidst the early spin out, I realized I needed a confirmation - something that would ensure I was completely sold on my decision this was the right thing for everyone - but most of all for myself. And with that in mind, I went to London last week – my longest time away from the boys since they were born – to attend the global communications summit for my company.

It achieved my goal 100 percent and I have to say, it was completely inspiring and motivating. I’m not the sort of person who can work for any old company, I need to believe in what it’s doing. I walked away a believer. It was also awesome to understand my place within the global context, and to meet all of the people I work with every day (who, prior to this, were just names on emails), as well as those I don’t work with directly in countries near and far, with all of us contributing to the bigger picture.

Personally it was also fantastic. Working for yourself leaves you with limited external inputs and my biggest fan these last few years has been my husband – he’s a sweetheart. But last week, I was amongst more than 200 people, all working in the communications business, all of like mind (extrovert is a common trait in the comms business), and we worked hard together during the day and then partied like rock stars into the night. I can’t think of the last time I partied like a rock star…

It was a lot of lot of fun and I have so many funny memories of this week, including a drunken gaggle of us hanging out in the Savoy (we brought the tone down considerably) after a dinner cruise on the Thames, dinner with my North Asian colleagues – some of the smartest and funniest people I’ve ever met, Liana from Armenia screaming to the world: “Andrea (roll the r please) you are the only person who can say fuck and it sounds so sweet” – nice, as well as singing Broadway songs in the freezing cold rain on the streets of Soho with my Eastern European and North African colleagues from 3-5am – Liana a feature again. My voice is still recovering from that.

It was too much FUN and I’ve returned to Singapore, bruised and battered from my excesses, to be welcomed into the loving arms of my three lads (although my big lad pissed off an hour after I landed to fly to KL agggh! Recovery has been brutal) and I’m back in the office raring to go and eager to contribute to the story.

So my goal for the week was achieved, but more importantly, my bigger desire of changing my stars significantly has also been achieved. It’s not easy managing everything within the mix of my new life, and sometimes it’s just bloody hard, but it’s great to be part of something much bigger than myself and it’s equally great to tap into my intellect and creativity in a much more powerful way. I needed that and didn’t realize how much I was missing it until I found it again.

I know a lot of people don’t like doing too much change – let’s be honest, it scares the shit out of most people – including me sometimes. However, I often wonder if I like change too much, but seriously, it’s not that. I’ve been searching for something, and that is the need to be excited and inspired by what I’m doing, and if I am, I’m in. If I’m not, I will change.

I just can’t become a miserable old bag disappointed by life. Nutty bag yes, bitter bag no. 

I really do believe that focusing on being the best You you can be, in whatever field you are in, is a big part of ensuring the nutty bag will win in the end.

So after making lots of decisions that made life challenging in recent years, it feels great to have made a really good decision.

Yours, without the bollocks

Andrea

I DO Love London

My old pub where I partied with the Aussie Cricketers - circ. 1680

I lived in London from 1995 to 1999 and it was an awesome time in my life. The problem is, it could never be a long-term option because I just HATED the bloody winters. I remember standing at a Tube station in the dead of winter one time, waiting for a train to take me one stop, but my feet got so cold they went numb and I thought screw this, so went out and got a taxi. I mean, I really really hate being cold.

I arrived this morning, to a crisp spring day, and it’s been such a trip down memory lane. The last time I visited was eight years ago, and I don’t come enough – which is pathetic considering my British in-laws continue to live here and I do want the boys connected to their English family and heritage, not to mention I still have many fantastic mates living in and around London. Time to rectify that I think.

My old house

So I’m staying next to Chelsea Football Ground, and loh and behold, it happens to be next door to my first shared house in London – which was a weird collection of people living together. I had to see it and went for a wander today, finding the house, as well as a pub I used to go to a lot, which included a night spent partying with the Australian Cricket Team (that was a good night), and the local supermarket I shopped at, and the market on North End Road, and much much more. It’s all changed a lot and yet it hasn’t changed much at all. The biggest difference I noticed is more Eastern European accents than before – which is a nice addition to the neighborhood. Fulham definitely remains as eclectic as ever - rich next to poor, all faiths, skin colours, ages, and lots of nutters thrown in the mix as well – I like nutters.

It reminded me of that first day and first week when I arrived in London in 1995. Arriving in a country to live for the first time is always a very rich sensory experience for some reason – for me anyway. I have strong first memories from Boston and Singapore as well. But my first memory in London is always arriving at Heathrow immigration and the passport official was an excessively made-up lady with a high blonde bouffant, with fake nails like talons, and she went on to greet me with the strongest Cockney accent I had ever heard in my life at that point. I felt like I was on the set of Eastenders. She made me giggle, but not to her face of course, because Immigration is serious business these days.

My next impression was how low London was - physically. Coming into one of the world’s greatest cities, I was expecting towering skyscrapers – and to this day, it’s not like that. I expected a drab city, mainly because the news coming into Australia at the time was all pretty depressing (London was just coming out of depression back then), and shows like Eastenders didn’t exactly make it look all sparkling and shiny either. I mean just the pale complexions of the characters was a curiosity to me. Much to my surprise, I found London really bright, fantastically historical (Mozart composed one of his symphonies in the house next to where I was staying – cool) and of course, unexpectedly beautiful.

I love the history! 

Which is the next biggest impression I had – it is a beautiful city. I remember arriving with Steve for the first time after we met about 10 years ago, and said look, isn’t it beautiful. He’d never looked at it through my eyes before and said he could really see the beauty in it now. As a young Pommy growing up here, he’d never given it that much thought. You don’t really.

So today, as the taxi weaved its way through Green Park, the horses were out, the new monuments were gleaming in the early morning sun, the day was crystal clear, people were out walking their dogs, and once again, I was struck by the beauty of this city.

I do love London, and I tell you, if it wasn’t for the weather, I’d say to Steve, this is where we need to live. I figure we’ll just have to come and visit a lot, because I do need my regular injection of London it seems.

Yours, without the bollocks

Andrea

Be Kind or Piss Off

I’ve been thinking about how I handle some friends who have been challenging other friends – people they’ve never met – on my social media pages. The thing is, for me, what I share on social media is pretty broad – some are ideas, some are opinions, and much of it is just the crazy shit going on in the world or in my head. I take full responsibility for what I share and I’m very happy to be challenged over any of it – always with the hope the challenger remembers to be kind. However, when people attack other people for sharing their thoughts and ideas with me, I’m not feeling so comfortable anymore. Have a go at me – no problem. Have a go at others – we could have a problem.

The thing is, people feel and think things for a whole variety of reasons. I believe we can never know another’s story, or the thoughts that rattle around in their heads, and that it’s impossible to understand how another’s experiences have impacted or shaped who they are. When we think we know how another feels, we are still only interpreting this from our own experience, not theirs, because we are not them and they are not us. I believe that even those closest to us remain a mystery. This is one of the reasons I try never to judge anyone and feel uncomfortable around judgmental people, which ironically, is a judgment right?

Anyhoo, social media is a channel for us all to celebrate the big and small things in our lives with our closest community or complete strangers. My Facebook community is my friends and family – people I know and care about. Ninety nine percent of my friends on Facebook are people I value having in my life. The other 1% are connected to me through other’s I know. My other social networks are different - these are colleagues (past and present), strangers or peers relevant to my life, so it’s about being connected to people interested in me and me in them – for whatever reason – work, blogging, etc…. That lack of personal connection usually sees interactions as being pretty straight.

Therefore, with my Facebook page in particular, I feel that my friends and family should be able to share their celebrations with me (as I’m part of their community) without being criticized by someone they don’t know. I also believe how they live and celebrate should not be judged by strangers, because how we each live our lives is relevant within the context of our own cultures. Let’s also not forget that celebrating one’s life is important too, because what’s the point of living if we forget to have a good time while we’re at it? There’s enough misery in the world already.  

My friend community is very broad, and this is something that gives me enormous pleasure. I have friends who have more money than Donald Trump – well maybe not that much – and equally I have friends who grew up in refugee camps, surviving on cockroaches. I have friends who have witnessed unbelievable brutality, and I have friends who haven’t had a bad day in their life. Almost every country, race and religion is in my community, and I cherish the diversity of experiences that are shared on Facebook. It makes social media a wonderfully vibrant medium in my life.  My Facebook feed is my own little United Nations - it’s very cool.

But with that contrast of lives, there are vast differences too – which is where the challenge comes in, especially as a lot of the people I hold dear are very passionate people as well.

In my travels, I have seen that the majority of the world’s population does not enjoy the privileges many enjoy and take for granted. I’ve really grappled with this, however I’ve come to the conclusion that the majority of people contribute to making the world a better place in their own way. I’ve had the privilege of living and spending time in some of the poorest communities in the world and equally, the richest. I can tell you that my heart has regularly been broken by the unfairness I see in the world. I completely understand how people struggle with disparities - comparing the haves with the have-nots – it IS really hard to reconcile the two, but those of us considered better off can’t live in guilt for living our lives, because the reality is, no matter who you are, where you are, or how rich or poor you are – there are shitty aspects in your life as well.

Wealth and physical abundance is not the only measure of success or happiness. Community and loving support should also be factored into this equation, and the “poor” of the world often have that in abundance. One of my greatest epiphanies when travelling was the ability to look beyond the poverty and see the really important things these communities had – things the West lost long ago. Mother Theresa was famous for her quote of all that she had witnessed in the world, the saddest was the loneliness she saw in the West. No one has it right, all societies have room for improvement, but rather than judging each other, let’s continue working together so everyone has enough. That’s all that matters.

I believe I see both sides as much as I am able to see them, and I just want to ask – please be kind to my friends and family? Everyone I am connected with I value for a whole host of reasons. Everyone I am connected with has enhanced my life in magical ways. I feel incredibly privileged by the diverse people that are in my life, but some of them are a bit crazy. Some of them have out of this world ideas. Some are conservative. Some are content with really nice and beautiful lives. Some are religious. Some are spiritualists. Some are atheists. Some are just their beautiful, authentic selves. I love them all for who they are and I want them contributing to discussions on my Facebook feed. Many are telling me they don’t want to contribute when a stranger starts attacking them and others. That doesn’t make me smile, because I want to know what they think – no matter how off the wall it is. It is the sharing of ideas that helps me to grow, because I don’t know anything when it comes down to it.

So participate, enjoy, challenge the people you know, but when you don’t know someone, perhaps think twice before jumping in? I have one goal in life and that is to be kind – that’s it. I tell my boys to be the same. I reckon if we can be kind we can make a difference in the world and that’s all I’m asking here – be kind.

I’m not an “unfriender” – it’s not who I am - but seriously, if you can’t be kind, perhaps it is time for you to piss off?

Yours, without the bollocks

Andrea

An Expensive Scare

So a few weeks back, I’m sitting on the toilet (as you do) and my arms went all tingly and my hands felt weak. I thought, well that’s a bit weird, but forgot about it. Then last Friday the exact same thing happened and this time, it freaked me out. I call the doctor, make an appointment and in I go – shitting myself about what it could be. I know that women have heart attacks differently to men, but surely it couldn’t be that, ‘cos I’m too young and haven’t gone through menopause?

Well it wasn’t ruled out, and a check of my heart, vital signs, and everything else was done. All clear, but we’d better get you in to see a Cardiologist to be sure. So my Saturday sleep-in was replaced with nearly two hours at a cardiologist’s office, checking my heart, doing the treadmill test, an ultrasound, etc… EVERYTHING was perfectly normal and I have a very strong heart. Phew.

The arm thing happens again on Sunday, so I go into the docs on Monday, they withdraw a liter or so of blood, and all sorts of tests are carried out. They didn’t call Tuesday, they didn’t call Wednesday, so I thought OK, I’ll call you. There is absolutely nothing wrong with me – nothing at all. And only $2,000 later… it’s great to know it for sure.

So what the hell is going on? One potential is a pinched nerve somewhere in my body. That makes sense ‘cos I’m long overdue an osteo appointment and have one booked on Saturday. What else? Stress or over-excitement resulting in elevated CO₂ levels? I am working really hard, there’s a lot going on, I am still in the completely overwhelmed stage BUT in many ways, I’ve never felt more relaxed. Over-excitement? Well of course, that’s a constant in my life and I don’t want to change. But definitely a reminder to chill baby, chill.

However, as a result of all of these shenanigans, a few things raised their ugly head this last week. The first is facing one’s own mortality, which is connected to 2nd thing - the bloody aging process. The doctor has been divine, but it was due to my age that all of these other things had to happen, ‘cos I’m no longer a spring chicken in the medical professions’ eyes and they couldn’t rule anything out.

I have to admit, I bloody hate being poked and prodded by doctors. I hate it to the point I could very easily ignore what is going on within, rather than facing the poking and prodding. But I didn’t this time. I went in and faced up to it (thankfully getting great news at the end), so I consider myself a VERY good girl.

But it was a rather miserable five or so days to get through, although I think Steve had a much shittier time than me. It also made me even more committed to my “Fuck it Enough” crusade, because I just don’t want to spend anytime hanging around hospitals, unless absolutely necessary.

Who knows what the bloody hell is going on, because my body responds to all sorts of weird stuff going on in the cosmos, so I’m just glad it’s nothing significant to contend with right now.

Obviously, if anyone has any ideas – no matter how nuts – happy to hear? I remain forever open to all possibilities.

Yours, without the bollocks

Andrea