Tears & a Light Bulb Moment

Firstly, I want to say what an amazing, enlightening, tear jerking, emotional read this blog I have linked below was. I have two nephews who are on the huge Autism Spectrum and up until now, ashamedly, I had never REALLY thought about how they think, feel and engage on a daily basis and how these feelings, actions and thoughts have been seen as ‘not right’ and must be changed. Sure I know that living in their world is very and vastly different to mine,  and my children’s, but I just didn’t really GET it. I am guilty of thinking that some of their behaviors should be quashed, but I have been so wrong, or misled, who knows, but for that I am sorry. Truly sorry. 

Thank you so so much 5 Cheeky Monkeys, for opening my eyes.

Everyone, please, please , please read this blog… and then my thoughts on it below. 🙂

Why I wish I hadn’t done Early Intervention

I welled up with tears reading the struggle that this family with an autistic child have lived through, when it comes to early intervention. I have at times done the same for my sister and her two boys, the struggle is real, I know it is, but I had no idea that this kind of stress even existed, and just assumed, like many that an OT would know what is best. Clearly they don’t in most circumstances, and the biggest question we should be asking is, why is it that the mentors are not autistic adults? It makes so much fucking sense to me. Why make a child change because his or her actions are not seen as socially acceptable. Nothing is fucking acceptable now a days if we all think about it and why on Earth should we change the behaviors of our autistic children to fit in with something that isn’t accepted anyway? I mean we can’t even breast feed in a restaurant now, and how natural an action is that? Intervention should be the support, and knowledge building, and compassion that this family have finally found with their ‘therapist’.

This whole thought of changing an autistic child’s behavior really made me angry after hearing it explained. I’m quoting from the article now “…Kids are encouraged to swap current feel good/coping movements for other ‘more socially acceptable ones’. From the way they sit to the way they hold a pencil, from the way they walk and run, to the way the flap their hands. “Quiet hands” is a term that gets flung around an OT session like no- bodies business… Nearly all of the tools our OT’s got for us have made the situation worse, and once we removed the tools we gained a happier child and a more harmonious life…”

AGH! It makes me bat-shit crazy to think that so many beautiful children are being told not to be THEMSELVES.

My heart just breaks thinking of all the confusion and stress we as a community may have caused, all simply because we either don’t understand, haven’t been educated correctly, or this knowledge is not yet conceptualised. Even myself, possibly with my nephews at times; encouraging eye contact and conversation with them, forcing or willing them to eat, possibly something they didn’t like or I haven’t cooked right. I feel sick about it.

They just want to be themselves and they damned well should be allowed to be themselves. Most of all, we should encourage them to be themselves, and not some idea of what society portrays as normal or acceptable. Fuck society. Fuck having to wear jocks because you ‘should’, free-balling feels way better I am sure when you’re six; and stuff eating my meatloaf crust, my brother eats the crust and I eat the guts that’s the deal; and get me MY vacuum while I use yours as well. This is why we love them. They are unique and individual so just let them do their thing.

So I guess this is really for Lana, who I love with all of my heart, and her two beautiful young men, making their merry little ways into this world; I hope I have never assisted this pattern of hindering their spirits. I hope they both become the huge lights of love that they are destined to be, and that just reading 5cheekymonkeys blog has reaffirmed that what you, and my amazing B.I.L are doing, is right, and the best for them, and you. It’s also for the few I have tagged in my FB post, because it will make sense and you might get as much out of it as I have.

5cheekymonkeys: I am so thrilled you finally found someone who is HELPING and I wish you and your beautiful family all the very the best.

Make sure you turn the teapot twice clockwise and once anticlockwise!





Happy Valentines Day everyone! Yeah, it’s that day of the year again where you fit into one of the following categories:

  • Spoiled by gifts and affection and find yourself uploading to social media for the world to see
  • Receive nothing and it makes you so angry your mouth foams like a rabid dog
  • Don’t give a shit but still acknowledge the day by saying the mandatory line to your significant other
  • Don’t give a shit but are guilt tripped into it by your significant other to pretend you give a shit
  • Do the washing, fold the washing, get grocery shopping done, light housework and feed the house and then remember it’s V-Day but don’t give a shit…

Regardless of where you fit into this list, perhaps you don’t, there is always the Herald Sun’s Pullout section -The Love Book to get you through the day. With coffee in hand I began the perusing and came across some regular patterns and here’s what I found. *Secretly I was checking to see if Ben gave a shit… hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

People really are ‘in love’ and still call each other pet names, even Bae; which means poo in Danish. That’s true love right? “I love you Poo”.

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There’s always a little mystery… met at the tennis or they have a pet hawk? Stallion… NEIGH!!! Go you wild thing!

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Thank the heavens for Tinder but what if they’d swiped left?

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What about trying to get your point across in more than two lines for FREE… Tight arse!! Margot, are you feeling the immense love from random tight person?

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Or perhaps it’s a bunch of smart arse friends taking the piss? Poor Gavin Scott.


Same sex lovers….??? (Had to take the opportunity to get my name in there – it all fitted, thanks Josh!)

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Or just plain weird; bleeding walrus.. that’s passion alright, and I think you mean planets?!

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And then there is acceptance for who you are no matter your ‘hand size’, what you eat or don’t eat (or suck), how you look or what you ‘have’… Alec, just WHAT did you give him/her??

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Oh and don’t forget the true secret admirers and sexual trysts going on around us;

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There is always a few with a political agenda or point to make;

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And those who have love and lost, and still trying to find it 😥

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Teachers, parents and family members all get some love too, even if I had to cook my own eggs this morning, so long as Mum and Dad NG are feeling the love :/

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Oh and the old school tree scratching N.R. 4 B.R. kind of love. Nawwww, can you feel it?Huh?

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Even Lisa and Ralph, and Steve get a mention as Elvis Cruises plugs them self.

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So there really is something for everybody.

I hope you all had a fab Sunday, and for those of you with broken hearts and wishing for a bunch of flowers, or chocolate from random man riding a horse, holding flowers coming down your driveway… there’s always next years edition of the Love Book.

Make sure you turn the teapot twice clockwise and once anticlockwise!






Big Babies?

I don’t often talk about my births… but I read this the other week and while at my Chiropractor this morning having my pelvis realigned, I kinda thought I might like to put in my two bobs worth.

Big Baby Article – Huffington Post: Australia

What is classified as a big baby for one, perhaps isn’t for another; it might be fucking gigantic, or even just average for some and then for a few with WonderVagina superhero blood running through her veins, it’s small. According to the article published in the Huffington Post, it appears that the accepted large baby cut off is 8lb 13 oz and, that a great chunk of expecting mums are being told that there baby is ‘bigger than average’, in turn this is increasing the number of scheduled C-section births and other intervening methods.

While I was carrying Mitch, I put on 22 kgs… Yeah a crap load because the first trimester I WP_20160213_09_21_31_Prospent in bed after ‘losing’ an incredible amount of blood at 5 weeks gestation and we were told we had lost him… Turns out, they thought he may have been a twin. Our strong not so little man survived and 8 months later, he arrived at 11.55pm after an epic 25 hour labour weighing in at 9lb 6oz, screaming and hungry. Nothing much has changed. I gave birth naturally after enduring an epidural, (not fucking fun) mainly so I could get a couple of hours beauty sleep before I started pushing. Do you think he was big? I did then, still kinda do now, little did I know the worst was yet to come.

Twenty two months later, following a gel cervix ripening, mmm mmm, a shot of pethidine in the ass and my waters broken with the stick-fork-thing, pacing roughly 6km around the birthing suite for 9 1/2 hours in silence, I began what involved having a baby shoved WP_20160213_09_17_32_Proback into my uterus because an elbow and forearm presented first. I couldn’t sit, I couldn’t stand, I couldn’t rock, I couldn’t lay down and I couldn’t kneel and I couldn’t talk. I was what you would call very, VERY un-fucking-comfortable. A few hard pushes and I gave birth to an unconscious, bruised and blue Colby. He was 10lb 7oz, just shy of 5 kilograms and I only gained 11 kgs for the entire pregnancy. I was completely oblivious that it took him three minutes to breathe his first breath, as I was taking my first full-lung breaths in 5 months myself, while sighing “thank fuck for that!” He pinked up real quick and went straight on the boob.WP_20160213_09_18_19_Pro

I for one, was told on both occasions I was ‘further along than you think’, as my baby was always measuring bigger than it should. I was asked multiple times “are you sure your dates are right?” I was absolutely certain of my dates and I could tell you exactly where and when I fell pregnant, “would you like the details?” always raised some eyebrows while the OB, GP or sonographer sat back in their seat.

At the 25 week scan for Colby, the sonographer told me that I was measuring five full weeks bigger than I should be. Mentally I was doing the math in my head… geez, this kid is going to be big. I knew it, and I warned my OB that if I went any more than 3 days over my due date, I would sue him. Colby was due on the 3rd, and was born on the 6th. Clearly he listened…

At no point did I consider a C-section because I wasn’t sure I could endure that kind of pain, nor did I consider one to save the aesthetics or elasticity of my vagina, or for that matter the strength of my pelvic floor. It was never in my mind or a consideration that I perhaps couldn’t get this baby through my pelvis, or that I might damage the ligaments or tendons? None of this mattered to me. There were no thoughts of the convenience of choosing a date, or date that was symbolic. Each to their own clearly, but in my eyes, a C-section would be for us, the result of an emergency. If something went wrong, then Ben would make that call. Mitch was a big enough baby in my eyes until Colby was born, roughly the size of a three month old infant at birth. His birth was the worst of the two and it was a mutual decision between myself and Ben not to have anymore babies after Colby was born. I knew my limits and that my body couldn’t do that kind of birth again, so that was my call. A C-section was never considered to enable us to add to the family numbers.

I have never forgotten the pain of child birth, they say you do, but that’s a fucking lie. It hurts like nothing else. (Except push ups and burpies, I fucking hate them!) It’s something similar to a really huge Chinese burn on your vagina wall and cervix. Add to that the contractions that are similar to the worst cramp in your hamstring times by 100, that grabs across ya guts and back, taking your breath away. Repeat that again, and again, and again… until you guessed it, the baby comes out. Oh and then there’s the placenta delivery, which has it’s own set of pains and sensations while your uterus goes from being a watermelon sized sac, back to the size of a cantaloupe.

Birth and birthing is very different for every infant, for every woman, in every way. No two are alike as a general rule and what works for me, might not work for you, hence why I tend not to get involved in kid/baby talk because “every-fucking-body knows it better, or did it wiser”… Shut up! Zip –  Unless I ask, or you ask me directly, I don’t start. Having said that, I have been witness to three amazing beautiful births and if I might be so bold to say, I am relied on for an honest opinion and support with solid advice. There’s no beating around the birthing bush in my vocabulary, if you ask a question, you’ll get a frank, direct answer and it will not be sugar coated.

So, getting back to the article; increased C-section and intervention correlating with mothers being told their babies are ‘big’… it’s a personal choice. For me; I was told they were big too; the fact that I do my pelvic floor exercises every time I wash my hands is a reminder of the ‘hard work’ my lady parts have endured. Every time I visit the chiropractor because my pelvis has popped out, I think of Colby and the pain associated with his birth. It’s all quite refreshing…yes? But, I’d do it all again. Being told my babies were big, didn’t in the slightest, have an affect on how I was going to birth and in a way I am so glad I endured the pain. Love my boys like nothing else.


Make sure you turn the teapot twice clockwise and once anticlockwise!


The Reach.

I have a few friends doing it tough at the moment. This is for them.

By doing it tough I mean, living lives they didn’t expect they would be. Like most of us I guess. Divorce. Anxiety. Financial strain or extra mouths to feed. Addiction and recovery. Grief and loss. Depression. It is endless.

Today for many, is a constant struggle. Just to get out of bed, or to even get dressed; or maybe not making that peanut butter sanga, because they just can’t justify using the peanut butter, and instead saving it for one of the mouths they need to feed, and so they stay hungry so others will eat.

The struggle is real and it is profound, if you only take notice. They do ask for help, perhaps not verbally or directly, but through their energy or ‘vibe’.

Listen to them. Hear them.

Answer them. Be there.

Be that one person that doesn’t judge, but whom they are accountable to. The person they know will ask “how are you doing?”

I have my own demons, but I also have those around me who recognise when things are not right. I can ask for help, but many others can’t, or simply won’t. Their pride, ego, self esteem or just simply their pain stops them from reaching out. Help them by stepping forward, so they don’t need to reach too far.

Making someone smile and letting them know that they aren’t alone, is sometimes the one difference they need in that one single moment. Many live in the moment, wondering how they can move away from it. Perhaps it’s the past, or worry about a future? No matter when or where, its real and they feel it.

So, to the few in my world that this little blog is for, keep on swimming and keep on being, continue to love and push on forward. The world is waiting for you to be your best.

You can be, and will be okay, if not today, then there is always tomorrow.

When you reach for the teapot or cup of tea today… do it with a smile and with someone who just needs a friend, and of course, make sure you turn the teapot twice clockwise and once anticlockwise!