Mother on the first date

Happy Mothers Day to everyone out there in blogland. Dont feel sad for me cause here I am blogging on Mothers Day morning. We've been up since sparrow's fart and I've had a lovely breakfast with my mum who lives and next door. The kids made us croissants and coffee and now everyone is either out or watching Beverly Hills Chiuaha (sic) and I have some lovely moments to myself to ponder how this whole mother hood thing started.

In order to tell the story in all its glory I have to start with how my husband and I met. I was 25 and getting really sick of the young single party girl thing (sick or what?). I remember one day working out the numbers and realising that if I met someone that day, went out for 2 years, got engaged for 1 year, got married and lived as a couple for say 2 years, tried to get pregnant for 1 year, was pregnant for 1 year I would be almost 40 by the time I heard the pitter patter of little feet. Hell man, I was clucky and that was a seriously disappointing amount of time for a really impatient girl of 25. I had just broken up with a seriously crap boyfriend, was toying around with a toy boy, just flicked the crap job, landed the job from heaven and who should be sitting next to me but this suave, sophisticated, cultured, clean, professional and far too nice for me, Latino boy. There were a few young ones in our office and we all hung out together. Latino Boy was off limits - he'd had a girl friend for 7 years, they lived on Castlreagh Street (smack bang in the middle of the city) and he was just too well paid and too mature and too unlike all of the other losers I went out with so I kept my distance. But we all had fun together. Latino Boy didnt smoke or drink so we only hung out at lunch time but we all got along well. I had never even considered he would be interested in me so he got the full version of Shaggs on Steroids - the smoking, the drinking in the office (Friday Beer O Clock etc), the filthy stories from the weekend, the swearing and blah blah blah. I really didnt think I'd be able to pick up a bikie.

So it came to be that one week all of the young ones except me and Latino Boy were in Melbourne working so it was just us for lunch that day. I dragged Latino Boy around the shops to buy cheap jeans and he had to carry my bags and he even carried them to the train station for me and not once did my alarm bells ring.

That was Friday and on Monday it was just us again and we were off to get a coffee for morning tea and Latino Boy seemed a little troubled. He had slept badly on the weekend he said and I was all very sympathetic asking why and was everything OK (couldnt believe I was seeing another side to Latino Boy) he continued his story saying he couldnt sleep because he was thinking about me......

Yes I nearly fell over! What!???? Now as an Aussie Sheila I find it very hard to cope with overt displays of such emotion but I have to say I think I did ok. We wondered around the city for a long time that day trying to work up the courage (without the use of alcohol) to discuss what was going to happen with this revelation. Latino Boy decides he should break up with old girlfriend and I agreed we could give it a go but I wasnt going to promise anything and if it didnt work then Que Sera.

So Latino Boy broke up with old girlfriend that night and the next morning there was a bunch of red roses on my desk bigger than my parents dining room table (unextended). The next day there was a bottle of my favourite expensive perfume in my desk drawer (and yes it was in a limited edition bottle and it was Eau de expensive Parfum and beautifully wrapped from David Jones), the next day was November Lillies and it just went on from there. We sent filthy messages to each other all week via NetSend messaging (very early MSN via a linked network - he was a network engineer) and finally Friday night came and we went out for dinner to a Spanish restaurant. He ordered in beautiful, fluent orgasmic Spanish (second only to beautiful, fluent network engineer lingo) and I drank copious amounts of Sangria (of course, finally alcohol to help me deal with this crazy scenario) and before I knew I was waking up in a thick bath robe eating chocolate croissants and fresh orange juice overlooking the QVB and Darling Harbour - exuisite!!! It was like Pretty Woman without the exchange of cash (just dinner and the apartment was like a hotel oh and breakfast - lucky little westie that I am!)

So what has all of this first date stuff got to do with Mothers Day??? Well, everything. You see it was that night, after a week of truly filthy messaging, flowers, parfums, Spanish, food, his beautiful apartment on Castlereagh Street etc etc we both caved in and went ahead without adequate (or any) protection. I knew my cycle and believed it was a calculated risk but what I didnt calculate was the effect of all this wooing on my hormones making me ovulate early and wham bam thank you mam two weeks later I realise I am "late" and yep, I got pregnant on the first date! We know it was the first date because after that night we were vigilant about contraception and that was the only time the troops went in without a helmet.

So we had been together for two weeks and I was four weeks pregnant (pregnancy is counted from the start of your last period). Let me say it didnt go down well amongst his family who all believed we must have had something going while he was still with the last girlfriend ( who was still a friend to the family and the poor woman scorned) He also comes from a long line of women scorned and left by men. I urged him to leave me before anyone found out. We had a good few months before I would start to show and by then the baby could technically be anyones and he didnt have to look like the deserting baby daddy. But he was keen to stay (I really think now he wishes he had of run) and I looked like the seducer who trapped the poor Latino Boy.

So we got married when I was 11 weeks pregnant ( I just couldnt handle having a baby with a different name from mine and we'd already toyed with the idea of getting married before the baby thing was discovered). I just wanted to have a registry wedding and go to Doyles for seafood lunch but my mother thought it was rude to ask people to go to Doyles so she made us have a "reception" (and I use the word loosely) in her backyard. We had a pig on a spit and some coleslaw and potato salad out of huge plastic boxes, I had a fight with my sister, my brother had a fight with my father, I went with my new husband to pick up his old grandma and by the time we got back there was my mothers western suburbs back yard with South Americans on one side and Aussies on the other and no one knew who the f%^& anyone was and if they were even in the right place. I then (bitterly) watched everyone but me get pissed and then I went with my husband to take his old grandma home and by the time I got back it was over and everyone had gone home and we didnt cut the cake (a running tradition in my life). We should have just left it at Doyles. Did I mention I wore a maternity dress? I had gained about 15kg in the first 3 months of pregnancy.

So, by the time I had known my husband for a year (and I mean to the day) my daughter was born. Just the sweetest, blue eyed, blond haired gorgeous little cherub. We were total lunatic first time parents and did everything wrong but she's turned out surprisingly well balanced under the circumstances. And yes, no one believed my husband was the father because she is so very fair and even less so when baby number two turned out darker than her father even. People still ask if they're both mine and I always answer yes and that they both have the same father just so no one gets uncomfortable (or rude) and has to ask. Funny thing is, number one looks like his family but has my colouring and number two looks like my family but has his colouring and number three is the Devil's Spawn so we're still not sure who he looks like.

So that was all nearly eleven years ago and we're still here to tell the story. I'm not the size 10 beauty queen anymore (I gained 40kgs in that first year and I'm still trying to get rid of it) and he's not the sweet Latino Boy who showers me with affection and gifts anymore but then, thats life. I dragged him out to the burbs to live near my family just while the baby was little and of course we're still here. He can sometimes be seen in unironed Target clothes and even has a pair of jeans from Big W that I never got around to taking up so are frayed on the bottom. I know a little part of him has died in order to accomodate me and father hood but then, I think we're better now than we were then. And Devils Spawn and all - I wouldnt change thing.

"I ate a prawn eye and it tasted like sugar"

Yes thats what my special lil man tells me as he's answering my random questions to him just to see what's going on behind his big hazel eyes. X, that's what we'll call him, was and is my third born and much like the other two, he was a little unexpected or should we call him a "surprise". I'd like to go back almost five years ago to when we found out he was on the way - it goes to explaining alot about how I have ended up here in the fat persons no man's land, treading water in this sea of blubber, bad health and unfulfilled dreams.

Five years ago I worked for weight watchers, yes believe it or not and no I didnt stand at the door as a reminder to members of what would happen if they didnt count points. I was a star member melting those kilos away, I knew every point value for every item of food and if I didnt you could bet I could get to within half a point. I had this thing down pat! I walked and aquaaeorbicised?? I worked at weight watchers every Saturday morning, I got my meetings for free plus we got a commission off the door which was a top meeting each week and we did well. I had two beautiful precious little girls, so well behaved, smart, sweet one 3-4 years the other 1-2 years. I had my system down pat I was organised with food, cooked, passionate about new recipes and smarter ways of making the most out of your points - in aussie terms i was GOING OFF!!! (thats a good thing just to let the rest of the world know).

Its no wonder I lost 20kgs and looked and felt great. It was a battle fighting off my possessive husband who didnt want me gone til 10am every saturday morning, out pounding the pavements every other morning fighting off those kilos and still not the perfect size 10 but damn it, I was strong and I really didnt give a hoot what he thought, he had to deal with it. I even had a little part time job at a cafe which I loved to bits. And no I didnt eat the profits! I was run off my feet 3 hours a day 3 days a week. Life was grand! Well, as grand as it was going to get! I had my two babies,no more babes for me. I begged for a tubal ligation during the second c section but I was 29 and had only 2 babies and being a know it all pig of a man my doctor decided it was not in my best interests for me to be sterilised. My husband would not go for a vasectomy because (and I quote) "while you are not the wife I want I want to keep my options open in case I want to start again with another woman" not a joke (he conveniently forgets this comment but its tucked away there and locked into about 7.5kgs of the fat I'm carrying).

So, early 2004 and over 20kgs down with less than 10 to go to perfection I went to the doctor for the morning after pill but it had recently been put onto over the counter medication, no prescription necessary BUT it would cost $40 which I didnt have at the time (times were tough thus the job at cafe and ww) the doctor normally gives me a freebie. Anyway, it was a long shot surely I would be safe just this one time......

Well, it was the day before my first born was to start primary school, emotions were running high and I had noticed that my PMS had subsided without the appearance of the M bit so there I was at the chemist buying the pregnancy test just a month after I should have bought the morning after pill. Words cannot describe the shock. The total utter devastation! All of that hard work gone just like that. I know everyone's thinking "but you dont have to gain weight when you're pregnant" but if you can just imagine for a moment what it took for a certified food junkie to control her addiction under some pretty harsh, undermining and sabotaging situations and get soooooooooooo close to goal and then deal with unplanned pregnancy to boot! And this is the least of what went on that year, I will cover the other aspects later.

I cried for a good solid half hour. I sobbed loud, shrieking, groaning, screaming wracking sobs until my husband had to ask "are we crying because we're happy or because we're sad?" and being the perfect fascade of a wife and mother I had to say it was because we were happy but man my life fell apart right there on bedroom floor. And I've cried like that for the past five years at least weekly and sometimes more often. And I have still not built a bridge and gotten over it. Five years later.....

I know this is the reason I dont start the whole diet thing again, the morbid fear that something will sabotage me ..... AGAIN! If its not me, then my husband or another child (I got that tubal ligation in the end but by then I was begging for a hysterectomy but that wasnt "in my best interests"). Of course I have started but I have all the resolve of a virgin on prom night, I have just given up the ghost. And because of alot of things that happened that year, I have given up on life alot also - doesnt make for a very solid foundation for the perfect facade. So, being the sulky, moody, temperamental, oversensitive baby that I am I am still in a funk - 5 years later!

Yes, I gained those 20 kgs and more during the pregnancy and just as the precious little spawn turned one and I should have gotten my life back and started again he turned into the child from hell and now not only did I have a possessive husband to answer to, I had a tantrum chucking possessive, aggressive toddler to deal with who would only deal with me and NO ONE ELSE and a husband who fought this every step of the way. Our house was a constant war zone. Two pig headed, possessive, aggressive bastards fighting over their bitch. It was all I could do to not drink during the day, I certainly did at night and still do for the most part. I dont know if he was a product of a bad situation or he created the bad situation but which ever way you want to look at we were a shit team. He eventually turned good at around 3 years and yeah I lost 12kgs at the gym that year but the beginning of 2008 saw the facade crack and give way and those 5 years came crashing down and its a wonder I've only gained 12kgs although the show's not over yet.

I do wonder if I had of blogged or journaled then then maybe it all wouldnt of gotten so shit cause this is really so very cathartic and I sit and say maybe I've given up on myself too soon and shouldnt resort to surgery and give this another go by myself but at the rate this process proceeds I'll have lost 20kgs by the time I get surgery anyway if I put my money where my mouth is!

So a brief idea of what also went on in those proceeding years:

- My wonderful, precious mother figure grandmother died and funnily enough - I watched her slowly starve to death! (text book psychology this, I know)

- My mother used me for 4 years to build a million dollar property for her saying that we would be able to buy and live in half of it - she of course pulled the rug out from under me after doing the 4 years hard work and wouldnt sell us the property. Too much profit at stake! Kinda hard being financially raped by your mother.

- Husband unemployed for 3 months HUGE financial and emotional strain

- sister on death bed in Queensland with strange immune disorder

- Husband EXTREMELY unsupportive during death of grandmother. In fact everyone unsupportive, after all, was ONLY my grandmother, just because she was the mother figure I didnt have.

- First baby started school (boo hoo)

- Moved house to be the perfect rental tenants to my rapist mother (told you I was a walking train crash plus couldnt give up house I had designed and laboured over plus guilt ridden cheap stable rent)

- Did I mention the unplanned baby?

There's even more in all this but we must stop somewhere....

So, why cant I build a bridge and GET OVER IT!!!!! Is all of this just a handy few reasons to not work at being an effective member of the human race? Or is this all a genuine chipping away of a character until there is just nothing left to chip? Do I deserve to fall apart never to have to stand up again for another beating down? Is the surgery just a way to help me out of the symptoms? I do see a therapist these days although there's only so much you can cover in 1 hour sessions (usually go to 1.5 hrs though) and after an hour of dredging everything up, you have to walk out on the street and continue on like everything is OK?????? What does it actually resolve???? I think this blog thing is better.

So, do I be my own worst enemy and not even let myself try...again? Am I just as guilty or more so than those around me who have hurt my precious little feelings?(once again, boo hoo) Should I toughen the $^%^% up! Should I just keep crying every week? Should I just keep eating? I dont feel like I even have the strength, determination or the trust in myself to be able to try. You know, all this time I have been thinking about husband (lets call him R), mother, sister, grandmother, friends, life, god, the universe, whatever, whoever, letting me down but the worst let down of all, me. Cause I am literally all I have and I have let myself down. I have not been there when I needed me, I was absent, I wasnt a friend to myself, I wasnt a support, I just fumbled along leaving everything to a "Shaggs of the future" to deal with at a better time. Has that time come? Is it time to step up? Can I trust myself? Will I be there when the chips are down (food again!)? Or will I let myself fall flat on my face again? Dont know cant answer all that only time will tell, the proof is in the pudding but will I even get to that point to find out.....

In the meantime, I'll lay with him on his soft little bed and hold his soft little hands and try to figure out what made him eat a prawn eye.....