Category Archives: love

Girlfriend In A Coma

This woman, is my best friend in the entire world. I met her 12 years ago, when Ollie and I moved to Christchurch together, and I went looking for alternative, in home care for Siobhan, while I went to University.  Her sister, was the woman who ended up taking care of Siobhan until she went to school, and Aleeya until she was around four. This family, became my family away from my family. They took us in and made us their own. These girls – there are four of them, and two boys, though I really only knew and was good friends with three of the girls – invited us to bbq’s, they shared our lives, we spent a lot of time together while all our kids were young, having picnics, going to the beach, having coffee dates, looking after each other.

All three of them, at one time or another were very good friends of mine. But this one, remained close. I first met her at her sisters house, she was sitting on the couch and she said something that was so insanely honest and rude that my mouth fell open. I can’t remember what it was anymore, but it caught my attention totally.  I spent a long time changing my hair colour, turning it to dreadlocks, cutting it off..doing everything possible to it, and she was there with me all the way. She loved everything I did. She started to have a huge impact on me, every time I went to pick Siobhan up from her sister’s. Every time I was there, she made the effort to talk to me, to get -me- to talk back, and I couldn’t resist her – I am insanely careful about who I share myself with, but eventually, she became my very best friend.

Lou is the kind of woman that you can tell anything to, and even though she’ll cover her face and go “TMI TMI!” she will give you a reply, an honest, quirky and helpful reply. She’s amazing. I can’t talk about her enough. She has six children and has raised them, pretty much single handedly. She came to University with me for awhile and did amazingly. She eventually trained to be a midwife, with six children, no husband and she passed with flying colours. She has been places you wouldn’t ever want to think about. She’s seen things that most people will never even know about. And she is, the most generous, selfless woman I have ever met.

Lou would give you the shirt off her back if you asked for it, and then she’d ask you if you wanted her dress too. She is amazingly giving. She has taught me so much about myself. She stood beside me through everything that I did. Every time I fall, I know she’s there to catch me. If I need to talk, she listens, if I need to cry, she doesn’t like it at all, but she totally lets me. She was there when I was at my lowest, and she’s been there when I succeeded. She’s encouraged, and supported every decision I’ve made, no matter how ridiculous or wrong it was. Lou will never tell you that you’re wrong. She will tell you if she thinks you’re making a mistake, she will offer you the sagest advice you’re ever likely to hear from anyone, and she won’t ever tell you “I told you so” when you realise for yourself how wrong you were.

Her life has been full of hardship. There are so many things that have stood in her way, so many things that still do. And she comes out on top, every single time. Having her in my life has been a godsend. I would not give up the twelve years I’ve had with her, for anything. She’s totally my hero. Anyone who can raise six beautiful children, pass a grueling three year midwifery degree and deal with the family issues she has had over the past few months and still be strong, dependable and always there for anyone, is a true hero in my books. I look up to her, and not just because she’s way taller than I am. She’s been the rock for me during the times when the only person you really and truly need in your life, is another woman.

She is the most honest and the most real person I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, I always know that I’m going to get the complete truth from her if I ask a question. I know that every time we meet and have coffee together, I’m getting her, warts and all, that she will give me everything she has to give and more. I know that she will offer me advice that will change my mind. I know that she will never, ever judge me for anything I might say or do. I know I am safe, when I’m with her. I really miss her today, and she will totally kill me, if she ever finds out I posted about her!

I love you Wahna. You’re my VBFF. You truly are my hero. And thanks for The Smiths.

My Sweet Prince

You are the one.

I got an email from NaBloPoMo, just like I do every month, and instead of looking at it sitting there unread in my email box, and going “meh” and deleting, I read it.  This month’s blogging theme, is Heroes. For the month of June, we’re supposed to come up with thirty people, that we admire. I think, this is a big task. Particularly when some of the people you might think of, as heroes, may not want you to talk about them on your blog. But I’m going to give it a go. I need some inspiration, I’m not writing nearly as much as I should be. I’m up and down and all around the bend again lately, and I need something to focus on.  So internet, here is my attempt, at finding thirty heroes; at enlightening you all with my thoughts and feelings about people I love.

I’m starting easy, also, while I have a lifetime of reasons why some of my heroes are heroes, I’m just going to give you one reason each. My first hero, and you have to admit that you knew it would be him, is my husband. There’s so much I could tell you about him, so much I already have. In fact, let’s start by remembering those posts. Last year, I gave you the story of how we met and how we grew up together, in celebration of our thirteenth year. And this year, I tried to do the same, but my anniversary was coloured by many other things which took away from our time together. It’s disappointing actually, and I don’t think I will link to it after all, but it’s there in April, and I’m sure most of you have read it.

So, why is he a hero? Thirteen years ago,  I fell pregnant. It was an extremely emotional time for me. When I knew, just knew in my heart that I was pregnant, I also knew that I would never see my grandfather again. He died, several days later. I remember it as if it were yesterday, Ollie was home from University, he’d set up his mother’s garage and we – me and several of his friends – and him obviously, used to stay there a lot.  Ollie played me Lightening Crashes by Live this day, and as I listened to it,  I cried. It was and still is a very emotional song for me. If you don’t know it, he sings about a mother giving birth, and an old lady down the hall who dies. One angel entering the world, and one exiting. And both of my knowledges were true; I never did see my grandad again, and I really was pregnant.

After a lot of pretending I wasn’t, in the hopes that maybe it would just go away – I was only just 19, you just don’t have babies when you’re 19, you’re still invincible and full of life. Children are a part of a world you don’t ever envision for yourself. After an entire shift from one end of the country to the other, the eventual taking of a pregnancy test, the following extreme morning sickness that saw me drop to 46kgs – 100lbs and end up in hospital dehydrated enough that it took them four goes to find a vein that had not collapsed – I rung home and told my parents. I expected to be disowned, and instead they told me to come home.  Ollie came every day to the hospital, and would read to me, until I fell asleep.  Only then would he leave again. He came home with me. He was 18 years old. He was intensely shy and very private. He barely ever said a word to anyone who wasn’t me, or a very close friend.  He came home with me, and fronted up to my parents after having gotten their youngest child pregnant. I always tell people this story, and consequentally, so does my father.

I’m not sure how many of you know or remember what boys are like at 18, but they are certainly not the sort of creatures you would expect to stick by a girl they’d got pregnant. I never expected him to stay, and am always amazed that he did. I would not have held it against him, if he’d run screaming when I told him I was going to keep the baby. Ollie finished two years of University, and brought me and Siobhan – who was five months old, to Christchurch. He started his third year of University, I started my first, and fell into a heavy postnatal depression. By the time Siobhan was a year old, I was hospitalised and needing constant supervision to get me out of the depression I suffered. He came and visited me, again, every day. He took care of everything while I was there, and he never once complained. He stood by me and held my hand, and let me cry.

Ollie is one of those people who never judges another person. He loves unconditionally, he supports and understands, and even when he doesn’t understand he tries. He is truly, one in a zillion billion. I am extremely blessed to have him in my life, to share children with him. He is definitely, my biggest hero. <3

I’ll Write You A New Life…

Guess how much I’ve written?

I’m not telling you. I should start doing it though.  Oh, that just gave away the fact that I’ve written nothing, didn’t it!? Whoops!  Okay, so I haven’t started yet. I really need a better idea. I keep over analysing the one I have in my head right now, which is probably the wrong thing to do, because if I just started writing, it would be good, or if not good, it would at least be a start. Right?  Right.

Anyway, I’ve been doing lots of on the sidelines writing, you know, otherwise called “roleplay”. Which is terrible of me, but I can’t say no.  Even though, one of my tag lines is “Just Say No”. You’d think I’d take my own advice and say no, don’t you? But I DON’T! And do you know why?  A lot of reasons actually, most of them revolve around the fact that I seriously love creating stories with other people, and that, I have some really amazing storytellers amongst my small group of players.  It’s really nice. The last couple of weeks in particular, have been extremely fun.  I’m very lucky to be surrounded by people who care and who want to write with me.

It’s difficult to explain the concept of online roleplay to people who don’t do it. It seems like an odd thing to do, and more than that, kind of nerdy. I’m quite proud of my nerdiness though, so I will admit, roleplaying online is all kinds of nerdy. Depending on what sort of roleplay you do. Mine isn’t nerdy at all. No, really…I don’t have any nerdy characters, although, I do have a spot open…perhaps that’s what he could be! I like that idea. Wait, I guess a couple of them are slightly nerdy on the side.  I’m sidetracking myself. Do you know, I find it really difficult to talk about roleplay without feeling like a complete computer nerd?  Finethen! I give in to my inner dork.  Hello internet, my name is Kelly and I am an online roleplay nerd! My skin is white and pasty and while I don’t wear glasses, I do have braces.  OHMYGOD! i’m totally a computer nerd!

Actually, years and years ago, something happened to our computer, and Ollie was taking it to the shop we bought it from to get them to look at it, and some guy yelled out “COMPUTER NERD!” at him.  I have to point out, the guy who yelled it?  Yeah, he was in the computer store’s parking lot.  I still love that!  Can’t you see my husband with a computer under his arm, trudging towards the store and being assaulted by some huge rugby head – in the carpark going “computer nerd!”  Maybe it’s a private joke. The truth is, we’re both fairly bad, but I apparently am worse, because I sit and write out entire character lives on this thing.

And do you know what? I totally love it. I find it utterly interesting, and I love to see other people’s characters develop, be broken and slowly piece themselves back together again.  I love to see how people shift their storylines when someone else’s characters disappear, and how they spring back and find new plot twists, new drama’s, new loves and losses and triumphs and failures.  We’ve got some really great storylines going right now.  And even more in the works. I wish solo writing was this easy…but solo writing requires discipline and time away from the rest of the world, which I am finding incredibly difficult to turn away from right now.  I totally enjoy the interactions, and the friendships I’ve made with people.

I’m thoroughly intrigued by how things manifest.  By group dynamics and shifts in friendships.  It’s very intense and sometimes overwhelming. I think that’s really my favourite part of online roleplay.  People sharing themselves. Your writing is so very personal, your style, your ideas and your creativity.  It’s all so very individual and interesting. I’ve watched people grow and change and find their creative voices and I can’t help feeling really good about what they’re creating, and what they’re helping me create too.  Roleplayers are a strange and interesting group of people.  Once they’ve found a group they fit with, they stay, and they’re very loyal, for the most part.  They’re also very serious.  But more than that, they’re totally amazing. They make me laugh every day.  They are some of my very best friends in the whole world. And funnily enough, they’re all over the world…so, when I say that, it’s actually true.

Most of them, I have never even heard speak. Some of them, I’ve seen photos of. Some of them, I’ve seen via webcamera, some of them, I really wish lived closer – yes you.  You! That’s right. Come over and drink tea with me!  Not sleepy tea, I’ve decided, sleepy tea is the bane of my timezone existance! No more sleepy tea, no more missing afternoon naps so you can’t stay up all night with me.  None of that!  You must be on call for me, 24/7 because that’s how it rolls yo’. I can’t live without my daily 12 hour fix of stalkerism and harrassment.  I can’t live a vile and hateful existance, without your constant praise and support.  But anyway, despite that fact, I still feel like we know each other, in a way that you sometimes don’t even know the friends you do regularly have coffee with, well, apart from the ones who are willing to give you their everything.  And to be fair, I do expect that of my friends.  Their everything. I’m selfish and expectant that way, but in return, I’ll give you that too.

x

Let It Slide…

I’m full of meloncholy right now. It’s more than that I think, miserable would be the word. It’s awful, I hate it, and so instead of boring you with words, I will spam you with pictures.  These are some of the most important things in my world. And also, some of the things that never cease to make me happy.

If you’ve had to put up with me in any way shape or form these past few days. I apologise. I’ll be back to normal soon.

love
Kelly
xx

The Escapist

Thanks guys! You’re all awesome. I’ll keep that in mind, I promise. But for now, that post is going to stay archived for awhile. It’s really not interesting at all, you’re all going to be sorely disappointed and go “WTF? IMHO U SUX!” or, some other rather inane internet speech.

Speaking of internet speak, how cool is it? I really love it. I love the words that I just don’t quite get and have to think on for ages. Sometimes I give in and ask, even though it makes me feel really silly.  I like the LOL, I do, although I never use it. LMAO and LMFAO yes..it took me years to use them, but I do. I like *L* which I say in my head when I type it as “lah” shut up. I like the sounds of words. I also sound out acronyms, it’s true.  When you type an internet speak acronym at me, I sound it out in my head. They are actual words to me.  Is that weird? I don’t care!

Do you have any idea how long it took me to take to internet speak?  Literally, years! I totally point blank refused to do it.  It was so banal and ridiculous. I really hated it when people used it in conversations with me too. Come ON!  This thing here?  It’s a tool for typing on!  Stop being lazy and type me out a proper sentence!!!!   LOL? How hard is it, really, to type it out in full? If you really want to drive me bonkers, text me with txt language.  I will hate you, forever.  It’s not true. It’s like a word game for me, some cool puzzle that I sit and have to work really hard to decipher, because, I’m actually not very good at word games.  I’m too easily distracted, and way too easily bored to do them, but when I’m texted with txt speech, I know I have to respond, and figuring out what you’re trying to tell me is pretty important, generally.

Sometimes, I’m a word snob. It’s true.  I will still *laugh right out loud* in online conversations rather than use LOL. Also, lol……………lol?  Why? I know – I’m very elitist and snobby, but honestly if you’re going to laugh out loud shouldn’t you really go the whole hog and LOL? I kind of feel ripped off when you only lol me.  It’s like “Kelly, you’re just not that funny, but.. lol.  There.  Happy?”  Well I’m NOT!  I want you to LOL!

I still don’t LOL.  I just can’t.  I cannot come to terms with LOL.  But I do feel instantly satisfied when people LOL at me.  LOL you hear that? Not lol.  No.  There’s something cheaterish about laughing out loud without capital letters.  I feel the same way about ROFL and LMFAO.  Don’t do them in lowercase!  It totally defeats the purpose! You cannot rofl.  YOU CANNOT!  How can you roll on the floor laughing meekly.  It is IMPOSSIBLE! Stop it! Although, I have this fondness for the newer, hipper, more savvy lawlz.  I like lawlz.  It’s like LOL’s sleezy cat loving cousin.  I imagine lawlz with a handlebar moustache and dirty jeans. Lawlz is always kicked out of parties for grabbing ROFL’s arse.  I feel a connection to him.  ROFL should have her arse grabbed.

All internet acronyms need capital letters.  They really do.  Except perhaps, my favourite.  The WTF.  It has more punch if you capitalise it, but wtf?  Isn’t it gorgeous? It is.  Look how it just sits perfectly.  wtf. It does. It’s shapely and seductive.  Also, unf.  Unf is one of my favourites.  I love the unf.  I do.  Shut up. I know you’re out there sniggering at my reasons for loving the unf!  Anyway.  Ollie is not familiar with the unf and  I have this gorgeous icon, of Malfoy – yes, Harry Potter’s Malfoy. Wait, wait.  I need to explain the unf to you first I think.  Unf is the noise people make when they’re…uh..you know…enjoying a bit of the old slap and tickle. I’m having a private moment with the slap part of the slap and tickle.

I’m distracted.  So that’s what it means, unf unf!  That’s the sexy noises people make together, and is also used to describe sexy times ie: let’s unf.  So I have this icon, and it’s Malfoy, and I’m guessing he’s in pain, but some clever person, has turned his face of pain into a face of the big O.  And along the top it says UNF.  So, I’m showing Ollie last night, because I’m peicing together a new gallery – OMG (I will accept you omging me in lower case…omg looks sexy like wtf and unf) piecing? It’s piecing isn’t it?  I’m piecing together my new gallery, and I upload it and I go “Hey look at this image!”  And I’m like squeaking and laughing and he squints at it and goes… “what is…you neff?”  YOU NEFF! Internet.  I hurt myself laughing.  I cannot stop saying it.  Poor Oliver.  He always says the most adorable things, and they work their way into my vocabulary and are there forever.  This one, I have to share with you though.  Most of you already know that I love to make up words, and I am very good at it too, thank you very much, but this one, I give sole credit to my husband for.  The you neff, I believe, is here to stay.

Love You ‘Til The End.

Today is my anniversary. Ollie and I are celebrating 14 years together and three years of marriage. It seems insane to think we’ve been together that long.  He just turned 32, and here we are, with almost a life time of memories that we share with one another.  We just got home from Nelson last night, and we had a really nice time. Pictures are coming! He took some awesome ones. My nephew is so deliciously squishy and perfect, and my niece has Siobhan wrapped around her little finger. They were adorable. She fell asleep on Siobhan’s knee one night, all curled up over her while we played games.

It was a really lovely trip. We didn’t do a whole lot and I put my back out somehow, but aside from that, Nelson was as beautiful as always, deliciously warm and homely. I still feel like I’m home when I go there.  Coming back to Christchurch, and our house and the cats is wonderful though. Today we didn’t do a whole lot actually. I slept in, Ollie took his mother out and they bought a car, I know! For her, not for us. Our car still goes, and with his wonderful patch up job?  It’s almost as good as new. No, really.

It’s been a really strange day actually. We haven’t planned anything, because we just spent 5 days in Nelson, so most of it, I’ve spent catching up with things to do with friends.  Such angst and dramas! It’s amazing what happens when you go away and how much just kind of goes wrong and haywire. But in the end, maybe it’s for the best…I’ve always known I spend too much time online and not enough time writing. We could certainly use a bestseller under my belt. Or at least, a decent attempt at one. I have very mixed emotions on a lot of things right now, a lot to think about.  I’m such a social animal, and this place is where I’ve come for a lot of my interactions, but maybe that too needs to change.

Anyway, in fourteen years, I can’t say that my love has dwindled at all. I still look at my husband and wonder how I got so lucky. Particularly when our kids friends go “Is that your older brother?!?!”  And know exactly who I am!  Good lord, is he now my son?  It’s terrible that I age and he stays ageless. Still, right now he looks about 50 with all the hair on his face that he refuses to shave because he’s “on holiday” and his teeshirt over his head.  He’s cooking me dinner tonight, although I’m not sure he realises it yet, hee!

But seriously, Oliver, I love you more than life itself. Without you, I’m nothing.  With you, I can face everything life and everyone in it throws at me. Thanks for the memories, for the future we still have to look forward to, for the amazing daughters you blessed me with, for all the hot drinks, for listening to me even when you’re tired of the same gripes, for not forcing me to be anyone other than who I am, for forgiving me for being who I am, for the hugs, the kisses, the warmth and the affection, for singing me love songs, for the way you’re so willing to listen to my ideas, for your advice – I really do listen, for being unconditionally there for me, for dealing with my breakdowns, for forgiving me when I’m wrong, for apologising when you’re wrong, for the tears and the grumpiness and the tenderness afterwards…for keeping me grounded in a world where I spend more time in the clouds than I do walking on a hard surface.

Thank you, for marrying me, for being the best friend I could ever hope for, for allowing me to be a part of your life.  You’re all I’ve ever needed, all I want, and all I have ever dreamed of. I got lucky when I snagged you.

I love you.
x

Steal Away…

I have all this music on iTunes, and I never get to listen to it all, because I randomise it and it just plays, all day long. Sometimes, I’ll hear something new that Ollie has added and I’ll pause and check it out, take it off random and listen to the whole album. Usually, I’m really pleased by what I hear. I did that today, and the album was so great. I forgot to put it back on random, and the next album to play, was The Best of The Furies.

I grew up listening to this music. It’s so amazingly beautiful and makes me nostalgic. It’s almost over and I looked to see what was next. Leonard Cohen. Oliver really hates Leonard Cohen, and I secretly bliss every time it comes on. I’m going to leave it, he’s busy killing things on his xbox, so it doesn’t really matter anyway. He won’t hear it. Anyway, it gets me thinking, and when I think, for some reason, I end up slightly meloncholy, and want to tell everyone just what they mean to me.

I had a long conversation with a very good friend the other night. About friendships and love, and relationships in general. I think I’m really lucky to have found the people I have in my life. They’re all so very different and special to me. Sometimes I think I give too much, but then, when they give back, I’m really touched. I love that they let me into their lives, and give me their trust. It’s an amazing feeling to be able to listen to people tell you things that they may have no one else to tell. One of my best friends in the entire world and I had coffee today – actually, I had a mango smoothie and a double cheeseburger and I loved every filthy inch of it! And I love to listen to her talk. She amazes me. She’s one of those people that you’d just never expect to say some of the things she does. She’s utterly captivating. The cafe girl said “are you two together?” And she said “yes! Oh, I don’t know, -are- we together Kelly? Yes we are aren’t we darling!” And tossed her arm around me and squeezed me close. “Of -course- we are!” I replied a little shocked there was physical contact – it’s a long story, but totally thrilled at the same time.

I was thinking, after my conversation with this other friend…about how often girls say “I love you” to each other. It’s been with me now, since we talked. I don’t know about you, but my girlfriends are extremely important to me. There is something so special about friendships with women. There always has been, hasn’t there? We sometimes forget about them, and let them slip, and to be perfectly honest, I’m one of those people who has very few female friends. Very few I take the time to go out with and enjoy the company of. I’m not sure why that is, I think it’s because, I tend to give so much of myself, that I’m afraid of having too many people close to me. Because I will tell you, everything. I have no secrets. There is nothing, you can’t ask me. My dad always told me off for that. He said “You can’t always walk around being honest in this world Kelly!” And he’s right. I can’t. I know that because I’ve been let down so often. I’m the sort of person that will sit and watch for hours, before I actually begin to take part in things.

I’m one of those people who is careful about who I make friends with, because…I’m not ordinary. I don’t say that to be egotistical, I’m really very shy in person until I know you…but I’m shocking. People quite often, don’t know how to take me. And they’re shocked. It’s always been that way too, I don’t remember a time where I had more than a handful of friends. Because any more than that would overwhelm me. I’d get lost, I’d not know what to do with myself. But in being a picky friend chooser, I have managed to make some great choices. I’m still making those choices too. I have new friends who are just starting to come into my life. Who while I don’t call, or invite out yet, doesn’t mean I won’t. I will! I have every intention of it. I just don’t go out all that often, I certainly don’t entertain. I am the world’s worst hostess. I do plan on changing that though.

I totally got lost in that thought. What I really wanted to talk about, is how often we tell each other that we love one another. It’s definitely something women do for each other. And throughout history, we always have. Women fell into one another’s arms because they married for status, and money and not love…so their female friends became something other than just friends..they became confidents, sisters, mothers, lovers. I think, it’s something in us, that makes us want to let our girlfriends know how much they mean to us. Because we understand what it’s like, to be let down and hurt, and disappointed in love. And you need something, that is apart from that. Something you can put your faith in, your trust, and your heart and know that no matter what happens, you will always be there for one another. That’s what women do for each other. We bitch about each other, and we’re nasty and spiteful and we gossip about one another, but when it comes down to it, we would give the shirts off our backs for each other if you asked for it.

We count on each other. We support each other, we’re there through failures and miseries, and loss. And we share those burdens, and you can’t not love someone that you share your failures with. You can’t not love someone who will turn around and hold you, and listen, and not try to fix you. But just understand. We get each other. We are hideously emotional creatures. We’re needy and possessive and jealous. We just want to be understood. And so often, the only people who understand us, are our girlfriends. What’s not to love about them? They’re just like us. They love, and hate, and lose, and win, and fail and fall and rise and no one appreciates that, more than another woman.

Anyway…that’s my take on it.
x

—————-
Now playing: Leonard Cohen – Iodine
via FoxyTunes

Some Mothers Do Have ’em

My mother hates to have her photo taken, it’s incredibly hard to get her to sit there and let you photograph her. She hates it, she’s never happy with them, and I totally get it. Photo’s always come out making you look absolutely ridiculous, unless you have the body of a supermodel and a face to match. Anyway, I have some, and she has no say over whether I put them up or not, they are, in essence, what she is for me though.

My mother isn’t like yours. I can bet you that. She may have similiarities, in that she too is a mother, but I am pretty much willing to bet you that’s as far as the similarities stretch.

She has the most ridiculous sense of humour in the world. And it has completely transferred onto her children. We are, ridiculous. There is no other way to put it. We just are.

I grew up in a household where farting was not just appreciated, but encouraged. For years and years, I was the black sheep of the family. I did not fart, even if I had. It got so bad, my sister apparently, would run around sniffing everyones bums to see who the culprit was. Unless you are a fart person, I advise you not to start a conversation about them with my mother, she will talk to you for days about them. She has, the best fart analogies in the world, and she can, fart you under the table, make no mistakes about it. She is, the Queen of the Fart.

When I was growing up, I have memories of being read to. In particular, read “The Magic Treehouse” where there was a girl called Fanny (here, dear American’s, a Fanny is the girl’s privates, not a bum like you all think!). Try as she might, mum could never keep a straight face, and neither could I. We would laugh until we cried every time she said the name. I’m not sure how long it took us to finish the book, but it was a riot.

When I was five, my best friend in the whole world, whose name just happened to be Aleeya, was a Christian. I decided, I wanted to be a Christian too. Mum was all for it, and I ended up in a catholic school, and we would go to church together. Church, was fantastic. I really loved it, because, like me, she has a case of the inappropriate giggles. We cannot be serious, anywhere. Church was particularly difficult. Everything would set us off, people sliding across the pews making fart noises, people giving readings with a lisp “Abwaham, Abwaham, get off your ass!” Everything. We would shake the entire pew, for an entire hour and leave feeling like we had been kicked in the ribs. Tears staining our faces. Church, didn’t last long for us..maybe a year? I can’t remember. But it was great fun.

I don’t remember a time when there wasn’t something ridiculous going on in our house. I, was always much too serious and brooding for such hilarity, and the games they played where often played while I stood and screamed in terror that it might, eventually be my turn to have my head flushed down the toilet. I was little, let’s not forget. And they were all almost fully grown. It was scary times! I had a cupboard in the lounge which was for my toys. I used to move them around until I could fit myself inside it and I would spend hours in it, writing all over the walls. I was never much of an artist with pictures, it was always words. I don’t recall ever being told off for this either. I spent most of my days in that cupboard.

Mum I think, has always wanted to be a grandparent. She got her wish, but she was much too young to be a grandmother, and became instead a Poppy. She knitted up a storm for her grandkids, mine probably in particular, little girls, you know. They never went without anything. They had the cutest clothes in the whole baby kingdom and we barely had to buy them anything. She can knit and sew anything she puts her mind too. She made a lot of our jumpers and clothing even when I was in my teens. You’re never grateful at that age, and then, when you really desperately want something, she’s given up, because you were such an ungrateful creature that she cannot be bothered anymore. Honestly, I don’t know how she put up with me, so I gave her granddaughters. Granddaughters who are, incredibly grateful for everything she makes them. They cherish their gifts like nothing else. And it is a fight to get them out of them, even when they are worn out and full of holes.

The older I got, the more I value her and what she did for me while I was growing up. We definitely had our differences, and there were times I daresay neither of us really liked one another, but she did her best, and she stood by me through everything. She has been my biggest supporter, she reads everything I write and pimps me out to everyone who will click that link and read me. She’s kept the stories and pictures I drew when I first started school at five and began to write. She listens when I need to talk about how difficult it is to have daughters, and while I know she’s completely amused at the fact that I am getting back, what I gave her, she has sage advice that always helps.

Mum kept a perfect house, she spent her life working hard and making sure we have everything we needed. I don’t remember ever wanting for anything. She always listened to what I wanted, and she did her best to provide for me. She has the amazing ability to spring back from everything life throws at her, including a heart attack (she drove herself to the hospital while having it), and then baffled doctors by healing with no scar tissue on her heart at all. She was there, when I gave birth to Siobhan, and she flew down the day I rang her to let her know I’d given birth to Aleeya.

She’s one of those women that you’re thankful for, because she’s never too serious, she doesn’t take herself too seriously, and when you do catch her in a photograph, she’s always much more attractive than she thinks she is.

There are four generations of us now. Four generations of girls. We are still going strong, and we still have the most juvenile sense of humour in the world. I can’t begin to tell you the hours we spent rolling around the house screaming and laughing and making up filthy alliteration sentences. These are the things that I am passing down to my children…word games which seemed like they were just for the silly fun of them, and which helped shape me into a woman whose passion is steeped deeply, in the written word. Thank you mum, for being my early inspiration, for indulging my desire to be read to, and to read, and for (maybe) unknowingly, helping me learn how to write so that people want to read what I have to say.

I love you more than chocolate – and you know what a big thing that is for us right? Happy birthday you dirty old woman. Here’s to growing old disgracefully, with red hats and purple clothes and exa exa’s to the whole damn world who think otherwise!

Cotton

So the second wedding anniversary is cotton. Did you know this? I didn’t. The only one I could remember for those early years was paper, and that apparently is the first one.

My cotton anniversary was yesterday, I spent it online, like I spend most days. Ollie worked late, we had take out Indian food..I have a period. These things are supposed to be romantic damnit! We both spent the evening reading, and right before sleep Ollie said to me, “You know, 40% of my wage goes to tax. And then they take out money for my student loan, and for kiwisaver..I’m only getting about half of what I earn.” And that, dear internet, is what my husband deems a good way to end a conversation on our anniversary mind you, before sleep. He, of course…was asleep when I finally responded – “well, that’s a pleasant thought to sleep on.” And he laughed so hard I’m almost positive he nearly choked on his own saliva.

Do you know what I did for my paper anniversary? We spent it in Timaru at a dance festival. The night of our anniversary, we went to what I expect was Timaru’s finest restaurant. I ate crocodile. I KNOW! In Timaru!!! And you know what? It was delicious!

This period is the suck. I know, I know, I shouldn’t whine about such girly issues when so many people are reading, but honestly! My ovaries are trying to escape through my belly button and my head has gone out in sympathy. I’ve spent all morning out shopping and catching up with friends, and while it was really lovely, my body wants me to diiiiie.

I’m supposed to be going to dance class tonight and I am not sure I’m up for it AGAIN!

Why can’t my body just..get over itself!

Unlucky For Some.

I met Ollie when I was sixteen years old. He was in my class at school. We did a Business Studies class together. He was the accountant, I was the secretary – a match made in heaven right from the start don’t you think? Unfortunately, I was going out with a right dork at the time, a big, scary dork at that. Ollie was lithe, Asian and beautiful. He was growing his hair long at the time, and he was so deliciously shy. I used to sit on his desk and tease him, and he would hide under his hair and giggle. It was so adorable. I knew I wanted him from that very moment.

It took me two years to finally get rid of the boyfriend I was already seeing at the time. By this time, I had almost forgotten about that beautiful shy boy. He’d changed schools (we both went to single sex schools) and I didn’t see him at all during our final year of high school. I quit school halfway through the year and did an outdoors course run by the local council. It was so much fun, we sea kayaked, tramped, went white water rafting, we spent about 4 months together, every day from 9am – 5pm and we really grew close. During this time, I met Justin. One day, on a ride home from some place we’d been doing something crazy at, I put on a mix tape I’d made, “Ship of Fools” by Erasure came on and Justin’s face just lit up. “I know this song!” He announced excitedly – Erasure weren’t popular OR known that well at the time, and he said “I only know one other person who would listen to this music.”

And that was it. Some months later, I had found work in a law firm. I went straight from the course into the job, and everyone was so proud that I got a job – that was after all, the whole point of the course. I was running around town and bumped into Justin and..interestingly enough Ollie. We looked at each other and I couldn’t stop, because I was working so I said hi to Justin and continued on my way. I heard Justin laughing as I left and a few days later he told me that Ollie had asked him if I was me, and he just knew. He eventually hooked us up together, we were 18 years old.

Ollie’s hair had grown out by this stage, it was long and beautiful and always smelled delicious. He was so gorgeous that I could not resist him. Left to right – Brent, Ollie, Justin and Brent’s friend whose name escapes me. This is at Brent’s parents house, we partied all the time. I was generally the only girl, and I cannot tell you how much fun I had with these boys. They were always so willing to pose and be stupid for me. This is a typical night for us. What I love the most about this photo is Ollie’s look at Brent, who obviously was not playing the game by showing his abs. These guys were so adorable.

Ollie was at University this year. He had just had his 18th birthday and we used to go out all the time. We’d go to a bar in the city (the drinking age was 20, by the way..I had a fake ID, I’m not sure how Ollie ever got in..sometimes we’d go in in a big loud group so that the bouncers did not notice the younger looking ones). We’d go to this bar for the covers band Joe 90, who were so freaking cool, they placed the best music.

Ollie and alcohol have always been a really bad mix. He gets drunk on the smell of it and turns bright red. But look at him. Look at the complete adoration on his face. I love this photo simply because of the way he has crushed me to him and looks like he might just die from the pleasure of being so close. He held me like this, all the time.

During this year, he had a University Ball which he invited me to. I couldn’t miss work, and was working about 3 jobs at the time, so I had to go down for just the weekend. It was the first time I’d travelled anywhere alone. I took a bus and when I arrived he took me back to the dorm he was staying in. He had a room by himself which was rare, particularly because it was a double room. I remember going to the toilet and coming back to find two guys sitting on his bed with the most expectant and hilarious looks on their faces. It was so funny and so embarrassing I wasn’t sure what to do. Getting dressed for the ball with a bunch of girls I didn’t know was frightening. When I went back to his room he said to his friend “Isn’t she gorgeous?” and his friend, Stephen – whom I miss terribly said “Yes she is mate. She’s beautiful.” I have never been so flattered in all my life. Although I don’t look particularly beautiful in this photo at all! This was the beginning of Ollie’s addiction with taking my photo, by the end of the weekend, I was so sick to death of photos that I wanted to smack him.

There are so many photos that I want to share with you all, it’s really hard to sit and choose which ones will work and which ones won’t. At the end of this year, he came home for the Christmas break. We partied loads, my sister went away and I looked after her house. I lost my grandfather…we created life. I remember being in Ollie’s shed (that’s where he lived when he came home) and listening to “Lightening Crashes” by Live for the first time. I cried, because I realised in that moment, that I wouldn’t see my Grandad alive again. I was right. Also, I knew I was pregnant. But I pushed it to the back of my mind, because…I had only just turned 19 years old. These things don’t happen when you are 19, they just don’t. You’re invincible and completely safe from all those real life things. Apparently I wasn’t.

I moved to Dunedin that year, I was going to do my final year of high school in preparation for University. Ollie came with me to help me settle in. I became incredibly sick, we finally bit the bullet and bought a pregnancy test. It took us ages hovering around in the chemist to get the nerve to do it. I did it soon after in a public toilet. As soon as I peed on it, it changed. I was so nervous, and so afraid that all I could do was laugh. He didn’t know what that meant..we talked about what to do, I couldn’t abort..I just couldn’t, and told him so. We sat in a park, stunned and completely unsure what to do. Ollie was still only 18 years old. He had never had a girlfriend other than me. He chose to stay.

They put me in hospital for severe dehydration. My veins had collapsed and they couldn’t find one to put the needle in to help rehydrate my body. I lost a lot of weight and spent 3 days letting them put fluids into my body again and get me eating again. I had the most wonderful nurse. She asked me if my parents knew and I cried. I told her no, and that I didn’t want to tell them. She told me I had to, and when I was ready, she would bring me a phone. The conversation was awful. I still remember you dad, and your sarcasm. I also remember the both of you telling me to come home. I had been expecting to be disowned, it was so nice to hear them want me back. Ollie came with me. He faced up to my parents after impregnating their youngest daughter. He was 18, don’t forget. My father still talks about how proud of him he was. It was a very brave thing to do, if you know my father, you’ll know why.

Ollie came up to see me every chance he got. I spent my pregnancy depressed and in tears. I was terrified of what was going to happen. I had no idea how to look after myself and now I was going to be the mother of a child. It was frightening. He soothed me with very few words. He would just hold me, or spend hours with me on the phone, just listening to me talk..he’d tell me he loved me and that would be enough. I missed him so much during this time. But he came up as often as he possibly could and always made sure that we did stuff together.

You can’t tell, but I am heavily pregnant here.

And here.

And here. Ollie spent his life loving me…he did everything to ensure I knew how much he loved me. He touched me all the time, he held me and kissed my tears away. He was everything anyone could ever want, and so incredibly beautiful on top of it. His hair became a problem for him however, and he began to be mistaken for a girl. He was delicate and slender and we would walk into shops together and the sales assistants would ask if they could help us girls. My sister in laws wedding celebrant asked my sister at her wedding, how I had a child when I was a lesbian. I loved it, it was hilarious, but it started to wear Ollie down.

He lived in a flat this year with some of his male friends from University. It was a real boys flat, they were all Engineering students bar Ollie. This was my first visit. I was still pregnant I believe. I went down after Siobhan was born too. This is around the time that Ollie decided it was time to cut his hair. The hairdresser, like all hairdressers refused to cut it all off, she said it would be too much of a shock for him and cut it shoulder length instead.

This is Ollie’s “I got your daughter pregnant!” look as he so affectionately calls it. I don’t have a lot of photos of him with his hair this length. It lasted maybe 6 months before he got the whole lot taken completely short. It was a huge shock for me at first, I loved his hair. He used to play bass guitar and hide behind it, it was beautiful.

And it has been varying ranges of short ever since. People don’t confuse him for a girl anymore, but they do confuse him for much much younger than her really is. Just the other night he was carded when he went to the supermarket for some wine. He said the lady gasped when she saw how old he was. The drinking age here is now 18, Ollie just turned 31. He is very lucky damnit!

The years have gone so fast since these days…that baby there, she’s turning 12 this year. On Tuesday, Ollie and I will be celebrating our 13th year together, and our second wedding anniversary. I hate to be a sappy romantic, but the truth is, I can’t even begin to tell you how much this man means to me. He is my very life. The person who grounds me, who picks me up when I fall, and I fall a lot. He has always been there, always loved me, and never ever judged me for anything I have, or have not done. I could not ask for a life partner better or more gorgeous than he is. Just look at him. He really is one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen. And do you know what makes it even better? He really, doesn’t see it.

This is the male part of the family I married into.

Thirteen years on the 15th of this month, an unlucky number for some. For me, it’s just another year that I can look back on and know just how incredibly blessed I have been to have had him share with me. Here’s to so many more to come.

Thank you for believing in me Oliver. I love you more than I ever really let on..homo. <3