The Adventures of Deep Kick Girl Down Under

2008-08-18T19:27:00.000-07:00

I was so pissed off about the morons with the baby last night that I actually forgot to write about the main event. Sheesh. Those people do my head in.

Any old how, David Sedaris was hilarious. Hearing him read one of his own stories is especially wonderful because he gives it just the right "voice", i.e. (to quote him) a "beyond faggy" voice. David Sedaris really is "beyond faggy". He is one of the gay-est gay men I have ever come across. His demeanor, his turn of phrase, everything about him screams "GAY" and it's such a wonderful thing. For someone who doesn't, sadly, have any current gay male friends I am the biggest fag hag. I would literally kill to have a close gay male friend - and if he happend to be David Sedaris I would be the happiest woman alive. Imagine the sheer bliss of having David Sedaris AND Augusten Burroughs as your gay friends. Oh, the witty banter and the scathing character assassinations.

His "Nicaragua" story killed me. The ability to so beautifully, so hilariously, put into words his observations on people and life, is sheer genius.

2008-08-18T14:11:00.000-07:00

Excuse me while I yell for a moment...

WHY. THE. FUCK. DO. PEOPLE. THINK. IT. IS. OK. TO. BRING. BABIES. TO. CONCERT-TYPE. EVENTS?

Last night I am sitting in the beautiful Concert Hall of the even more beautiful Sydney Opera House to hear one of my favourite authors, David Sedaris, talk about his book When You're Engulfed in Flames. My anticipation levels are high. Judith Lucy (whom I also adore) comes out to do the introduction (oh joy!).

But what is that strange noise I hear? Is it a cough? Is it someone with a strange voice, a la Travis from Big Brother, making odd noises? Anxiously I turn around and lo and behold DIRECTLY BEHIND ME is a stupid couple and the stupid fucking woman is cradling a baby who is making gurgling, semi-crying baby fucking noises. My eyes bulge and my pulse quickens, I have a hard-to-fight urge to take this couple out onto the pebblecrete forecourt and repeatedly smash their moronic heads against the ground until the realise the error of their selfish ways.

But instead I look away in disgust and, what do I see downstairs, but another stupid couple pushing their giant costs-a-month's-wages fucking Bugaboo monstrosity into the lower hall. Is the world mad? YES! Are people too stupid to live? YES! Is the entire population of the entire universe hell bent on stopping me enjoying any and every event I go to? YES! and double YES!

I can not remember the last time I went to any event which involved paying money to sit in a hall and listen to someone speak, sing, play music or even watch a goddamned movie without someone else thinking it acceptable to bring their babies, talk on the mobile, talk to their neighbour and/or constantly go in and out of the hall.

I'm all for involving children in social events but there has to be some measure of common fucking sense. Small babies and toddlers are not controllable; they cry, scream and make annoying noises for no discernable reason. What's worse is that their moronic parents do not think it necessary to remove their noise-making children and therefore allow a hall full of paying customers to enjoy the performance. Shit NO, these people are happy to disturb hundreds and thousands of people for their own selfish, idiotic needs.

Honestly, I'm THIS far away from starting a vigilante squad and/or forming a political party with NO CHILDREN IN THEATRES as my main platform. Send all political donations to...

2008-08-17T01:34:00.000-07:00

Some recent pics (mainly for dear Jules in London)

Gorgeous boy!

The Terminator

Our day at Taronga Zoo yesterday

2008-08-17T01:23:00.001-07:00

I think part of the reason I missed the kids so much was the book I was reading, A Wolf at the Table by Augusten Burroughs. I have read all his other books and while his writing style is obviously the same nothing prepared me for how hard this story of his early years, before the Running with Scissors period, would hit me.

Really it was just a story of a boy wanting his father's love and acceptance and getting nothing back, worse than nothing. Psychological games, fear, rejection, confusion... these were the themes of Augusten's early life, living with a psychopathic father and a crazy mother.

With each chapter my need to hug my children grew and by the last page it took all my self control not to ring Jason and ask him to pick me up just so I could cuddle my babies and tell them "I love you".

When I see Augusten speak about this book in a week and a half's time I will also have to fight an overwhelming urge to put my arms around him and say "very much I love you", though the person from whom he longed to hear those words is now dead and can never repent for the horror which was Augusten's childhood.

2008-08-17T01:12:00.000-07:00

On Friday I returned home from three nights away at Solar Springs Health Retreat. It's a place for middle class women to "get away", eat some healthy food, get a massage and a facial and basically recharge the batteries. Having recently returned from Fiji I was probably not really in need of any battery recharging at this point but my friend M asked me along and who am I to say "no" to a few days of child-free R&R.

I had a lovely time: a bit of yoga, a facial, a meditation bushwalk (I never realised how difficult it would be for me to be quiet for an hour, almost blew a gasket to be honest), reading a book in front of the open fire, lots of chatting. What more could a girl ask for?

I was surprised at how much I missed my family though. I couldn't stop thinking about the kids. Of course they were driving me nuts within 10 minutes of being home, but I did yearn for them while I was away. Weird!

2008-08-10T00:12:00.001-07:00

I'm totally buggered but triumphant!

Today I completed the City to Surf half-marathon - walking, of course - in 3 hours, 25 minutes. (Only slightly outdone by the winner - at 41 minutes, 19 seconds.) There were very old people and little children passing me by.

But I don't care. I did it! I've never walked so far in my life and my legs ache in ways I couldn't have imagined.

It was worth it because I have hopefully, along with my wonderful ACC walking buddies, raised some serious money for Australians Caring for Children.

Here's yours truly at the finish line a few hours ago (just in case you don't believe me).

2008-08-05T14:35:00.000-07:00

Marianna's favourite word right now is POO. She just can't get enough of it. The funniest thing is how she includes it in her favourite songs by using POO instead of another word, e.g. Twinkle twinkle little POO (which has to be shouted for special effect).

So last night as I was saying "good night" to her I asked her what book daddy had read to her (Jason is currently reading to her every night while I read The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, chapter by chapter, to Will). She was all snuggled into her pillow with her quilt pulled up near her chin. She whispered something I couldn't hear.

"What was that?" I asked.

"POO!" she said.

"Dad read you a book about POO?"

"About POO... and WILLIES... and BUM BUMS!" she said, trying not to giggle and with a very evil glint in her eyes.

"Oh, that sounds nice," I said, backing out of the room trying so hard not to laugh out loud.

Just in case you thought we weren't doing a very good job in the parenting department.

2008-08-04T20:55:00.000-07:00

Because this always gives me a giggle.

The Man Song

2008-08-04T20:00:00.000-07:00

We went to see the new Batman film last Friday night. Not much to say really. Yes, Heath Ledger was amazing and really much much better than the movie as a whole. The movie itself was OK, nothing more, nothing less. I do love a super hero movie but I find the new Batman franchise with Christian Bale takes itself way too seriously. [If you want serious Christian Bale see American Psycho, now that's a cool movie.]

Now I'm just hanging out for Hellboy 2. I like my super hero movies twisted and with a large dose of black humour.

2008-08-04T19:37:00.000-07:00

Will has been asking a lot about death lately. I think the deaths of our cat and our dog (both rehoused since we moved into the apartment) recently has brought it on. But he also mentions the death of his Poppy (Jason's dad) and Baba Ada (my great-grandmother).

Last night he asked about going to heaven. I had to be honest with him and say I don't believe in heaven, not in the biblical or religious sense. In fact I believe I don't know what happens when you die. I hope that you go somewhere (we say the moon) where all the people you love who have died are and just hang out but that is just a comforting daydream. I have no way of knowing what really happens and I have no theological comfort blanket in which to wrap myself. That's fine for me as an adult but I struggle with explaining my thoughts and feelings to Will. I know he just wants to hear something simple and something comforting to help ease his sadness and fear.

I know he has fear about death and about getting old and getting sick - the two main causes of death according to my explanations (and reality, I suppose). When he brings up this conversation I am overwhelmed with a soaring excitement that my son is maturing and is able to have and grapple with these complex thoughts. I am also overwhelmed with sadness that one day we will have to leave each other in this world and that is a fact no-one can deny. There is also a huge feeling of inadequacy at being a parent and having this responsibility of bringing up a child when I feel I know so little about the world and about life.

I want to provide him with a sense of comfort and security and yet even as I say the words "mummy will always be with you" I know how untrue those words are. I can't guarantee that, not even for the rest of today, let alone into the unforseen future. I tell him that we are not old or sick and that we'll be together for a long, long time but in my heart I know I am lying for there is only one thing I am certain of, our ultimate fate is not in our hands. These thoughts make me sad for the parents who have lost children and the children who have lost parents.

I always try to be philosophical about death, it is life's only guarantee. I try not to be afraid. But sitting with my gorgeous son in his cosy bedroom at night sometimes I allow myself to catch a glimpse of the demons hiding around the corner, and I am afraid.

2008-08-03T13:37:00.000-07:00

I'm going to need a quiet September because on Friday 29 August I'm finally going in to have a hysterectomy. This has been in the planning stages for some time because of yet another ovarian cyst (or two) and a gazillion fibroids.

I'm pretty excited to be getting it done and out of the way. As I see it my downstairs girly bits have done absolutely nothing to help me become a mother so their technical purpose has never been utilised. All they have done is cause me almost thirty years of monthly pain and discomfort. I am happy to be getting rid of it all if for no other reason than it will stop my dear husband from saying "Obviously you have your period" when we are disagreeing about something.

The only things that are worrying me right now are the recovery period and the prospect of early menapause. I am not very good at being a patient; I am the one who does stuff, I get things done. It is very difficult for me to accept help and take the back seat. I am very grateful that my mum is going to come and stay with us as long as needed but I am also terrified of how I am going to deal with it. I am fervently hoping that the 6 week recovery period talked about in the informative brochure my gyno gave me is worst case scenario. As far as the menapause side of it, well I guess it's just fear of the unknown. I mean it's just bringing forward the inevitable so it's something I would have to deal with sooner or later. It's just the suddeness of it which will be strange: go to sleep with a body full of estrogen doing its stuff and wake up a dried up old crone. Just joking. I hope. Bring on the HRT.

2008-08-03T13:34:00.000-07:00

It's a sad time to be a Sydney Swans' supporter right now.

I suppose these are the times which test our loyalty.

Anyway, I'm going to need a quiet September, so it's probably for the best.

2008-08-03T13:26:00.000-07:00

A quick update on the previous post. Both children were interviewed by police and social services. Apparently the situation has been caught just in time as it appears the boy had been "grooming" her for some time and had been planning full sexual intercourse. It's a horrible story.

The mother said she had been leaving the girl with this boy in the mornings, as a before school carer, for a year or so. Not taking away from the horrificness of the situation but I can not imagine leaving either of my children with a babysitter so young. Personally I do not think 12 or 13 is old enough to be babysitting. I don't believe a child of that age is mature enough to deal with a crisis situation should it arise. Who could imagine that a young boy of that age could dream up such an awful fate for the young girl in his care?

2008-07-29T15:09:00.000-07:00

On the Guatemalan Adoption e-group I belong to there is currently a big discussion going on because one of the member's 7 year old daughter was sexually abused by a neighbour's 13 year old son. It's a horrible story. The lady concerned is being very cautious about how she proceeds and while she wants help for her daughter and her family she also seems to want to somewhat protect the boy, or at least she isn't keen to rush off to the police.

The responses to this have been very harsh. People are insisting that she go to the police, someone even wrote "once a pedophile always a pedophile". Whoa. I am almost as horrified at the reactions as the offence. (Let me clarify by saying there hasn't been actual intercourse but what the poor mother is calling "penetration with toys".)

Now I'm not saying it isn't an awful situation but I am thinking:

a) This could be my son.

b) This could be my daughter.

c) How many of us were involved in some sort of sex-type play as children which our parents never found out about and which was little more than silly experimentation which certainly hasn't left us scarred for life? I certainly was. Would our parents have even considered calling the police should some of it been discovered?

d) Is our society's paranoia and hypersensitivity over sexuality and pedophilia and the conflicting messages of over-sexualisation causing us to go nuts where children and genitals are concerned?

e) Is a 13 year old boy who coerces a 7 year old girl into sexualised play necessarily a sexual predator or a pedophile or a criminal? As a society do we seal his fate by casting judgement on him as a monster? How would my feelings sway if he was my son or she was my daughter?

These are tough emotive questions but judging by many of the responses I have read as a society we are rabidly keen to crucify a young boy who may be a monster or may just be a stupid, naughty boy. I don't pray but I do fervently hope that my own children are never unlucky enough to be "victims" or stupid and unlucky enough to be "monsters".

2008-07-29T14:51:00.000-07:00

I wanted to comment on Estelle Getty's passing last week. She was a big part of The Golden Girls, a tv program which really meant something to me, and continues to do so. Even now when I catch half an episode it still makes me feel "something". Yes, it was a corny show in the typical Hollywood sitcom tradition. But the theme of the show was something which has and always will mean something special to me - female friendship. In my life it plays a starring role and I dare say it's the bedrock of society throughout history and throughout the world.

Rest in peace, Estelle. Thank you for being my friend.*

* You just know I had to put that in somewhere.

2008-07-23T00:10:00.000-07:00

I'm really glad Terri won Big Brother. Mainly as she is a woman and there have been mainly male winners (and not particularly deserving ones, e.g. 2006 winner Jamie being one of my least favourite). Also, I can relate much more to her these days, as I'm sadly much closer to her 52 years than I am to runner up Rory's 22 years).

Speaking of Rory, he is a great example of why I hate the smart arses like Nobbi and want them evicted. When Gretel used to host BB she used to say "vote to keep in the housemates which make things interesting in the house". I suppose shit-stirrer Nobbi (and those like him in the past, say Paul) do make things "interesting" but what they also do with their domineering Alpha male bullshit behaviour is intimidate other males and keep them "down". Therefore as viewers we don't really get to know people like Rory until they have some breathing room once dicks like Nobbi have been evicted.

Since Nobbi went (and not a minute too soon) Rory has really come out and his personality got a chance to be explored a bit more. And I grew to really like him. I guess he reminded me a great deal of my Big Jay when I first met him almost 16 years ago (sans dreadlocks of course). A great big real Aussie bloke, a little rough round the edges but with a huge heart of gold.

Well, that tells you that I have way too much spare time on hands to think so deeply about shit like that. No wonder I never quite manage to catch up on the real pressing issues in my life.

2008-07-20T17:24:00.000-07:00

I really love Jon and Kate plus 8. I find it entertaining and awe-inspiring. I find it helps me feel better about my own parenting skills (or lack thereof). When I'm feeling down and/or out of control (which is a fair bit of the time) I tend to think "it could be worse, we could be Jon and Kate and have 8 little critters running us ragged". Everything in life is relative, after all.

But apart from all that I just really like Jon and Kate. They just seem like my kind of people. They are REAL, unlike those annoying bloody Duggars whose holier-than-thou carry on makes me feel sick (and terribly inadequate).

I guess the difference is I want to hang out with Jon and Kate, they'd be cranky and fun and hilarious and you could say "I could kill my kid" and they'd know you mean it and at the same time love your kids more than anything. As oppossed to the Duggars who I'd just want to take a pick axe to because they'd be saying God things to me all day long and yapping on about children being a miracle and a gift from God, blah blah blah.

2008-07-16T13:50:00.000-07:00

Sadly I think I predicted this long before little Everly was even born. The photos are so cute though.

Some people have itchy feet, can't stay in one spot for too long. I'm afraid Anthony just has itchy penis (well, you know, NOT in the medical sense). I mean poor little Everly is only 9 months old, so he didn't give it a super long go, did he.

Nevermind, onwards and upwards (very apt for dear AK). Hope he's a better dad than he is a partner.

2008-07-13T14:23:00.001-07:00

I spend a lot of blog time complaining about my children.

Here I just want to take a moment to say how sweet, gorgeous and precious they are.

Last night, as we were slinking around the house, tidying up after an afternoon of deep humiliation watching the Swans' being kicked in the guts by the piss poor Hawks with our Hawk loving neighbours, I poked my head into the kids' wing and there they were, my little angels, playing happily with the Swans balloons we had somewhat optimistically blown up earlier in the day. Later again, as I put laundry away in their wardrobes, they sat together at Marianna's Dora the Explorer table and drew pictures, quietly working away together, occasionally exchanging a comment or a giggle.

These beautiful moments make my heart swell and my emotions soar.

2008-07-13T13:48:00.000-07:00

Over three years ago I came upon a curious thing called a BLOG. It belonged to my cyber friend Julie who was emerging from an infertility saga (which I could relate to) and moving into an adoption from Guatemala saga (which I could also relate to). I loved her writing style and her wonderful sense of humour. Her blog was a joy to read and it made me think I could write something similar. Thus Deep Kick Girl was born.

I haven't been checking Julie's blog lately because she had stopped writing for sometime and I sort of started forgetting to check in. For some reason last night I checked back in and I'm so glad (and sad) that I did. She talked about the death of Andrea Collins-Smith the woman behind Punk Rock Mommy. It is worth reading just for her final entry, written from her death bed. It is one of the saddest, most beautiful, moving and uplifting things I have ever read.

Please take a moment if you can.

2008-07-13T13:47:00.000-07:00

RIP Big Brother.

I've hated you, I've loved you, I'll miss you.

2008-07-10T14:00:00.000-07:00

... and furthermore (while I'm up here on my very spacious, lonely bandwagon)...

From The Australian "Cut & Paste" July 9, 2008

Garnaut might be right, give or take a trillion dollars

ABC political editor Chris Uhlmann, who trained for the priesthood, bares his soul on climate change on Insiders.

As a former seminarian, one of the things that strikes me about this debate is its theological nature. That's essentially that we have sinned against the environment and that we are now being punished, and the only way we can escape that punishment is to wear a hairshirt for the rest of our lives and hope that in the next life, and in our children's lives, and in our children's children's lives, that things will get better.

Now, I'm willing to sign up for that. But this is a very long caravan and there are plenty of lunatics attached to the end of it.

I do not believe every proposition that's been put. When the weather department can tell me what the weather is going to be like next Friday with any certainty and Treasury can get to within a million dollars of what the surplus is going to be next year, I'll believe an economic model that marries those two things and casts them out over a hundred years.

I'll make one prediction: that whatever number (Ross) Garnaut puts on where we'll be in 2100, it will be at least a trillion dollars either way wrong.

EXACTLY right! How many millions, trillions, gazillions are we spending on this nonsense because no-one has the balls, especially now that we've travelled down the road someway and an admission at a high level could be a tad embarrassing, to stand up and say ENOUGH OF THIS BULLSHIT?

2008-07-09T18:12:00.000-07:00

Amen, praise the Lord. Someone who sees the light.

GLOBAL VIEW By BRET STEPHENS (in The Wall Street Journal)

Global Warming as Mass Neurosis July 1, 2008; Page A15

Last week marked the 20th anniversary of the mass hysteria phenomenon known as global warming. Much of the science has since been discredited. Now it's time for political scientists, theologians and psychiatrists to weigh in.

What, discredited? Thousands of scientists insist otherwise, none more noisily than NASA's Jim Hansen, who first banged the gong with his June 23, 1988, congressional testimony (delivered with all the modesty of "99% confidence").

The New True Believers
But mother nature has opinions of her own. NASA now begrudgingly confirms that the hottest year on record in the continental 48 was not 1998, as previously believed, but 1934, and that six of the 10 hottest years since 1880 antedate 1954. Data from 3,000 scientific robots in the world's oceans show there has been slight cooling in the past five years, never mind that "80% to 90% of global warming involves heating up ocean waters," according to a report by NPR's Richard Harris.

The Arctic ice cap may be thinning, but the extent of Antarctic sea ice has been expanding for years. At least as of February, last winter was the Northern Hemisphere's coldest in decades. In May, German climate modelers reported in the journal Nature that global warming is due for a decade-long vacation. But be not not-afraid, added the modelers: The inexorable march to apocalypse resumes in 2020.

This last item is, of course, a forecast, not an empirical observation. But it raises a useful question: If even slight global cooling remains evidence of global warming, what isn't evidence of global warming? What we have here is a nonfalsifiable hypothesis, logically indistinguishable from claims for the existence of God. This doesn't mean God doesn't exist, or that global warming isn't happening. It does mean it isn't science.

So let's stop fussing about the interpretation of ice core samples from the South Pole and temperature readings in the troposphere. The real place where discussions of global warming belong is in the realm of belief, and particularly the motives for belief. I see three mutually compatible explanations.

The first is as a vehicle of ideological convenience. Socialism may have failed as an economic theory, but global warming alarmism, with its dire warnings about the consequences of industry and consumerism, is equally a rebuke to capitalism. Take just about any other discredited leftist nostrum of yore – population control, higher taxes, a vast new regulatory regime, global economic redistribution, an enhanced role for the United Nations – and global warming provides a justification. One wonders what the left would make of a scientific "consensus" warning that some looming environmental crisis could only be averted if every college-educated woman bore six children: Thumbs to "patriarchal" science; curtains to the species.

A second explanation is theological. Surely it is no accident that the principal catastrophe predicted by global warming alarmists is diluvian in nature. Surely it is not a coincidence that modern-day environmentalists are awfully biblical in their critique of the depredations of modern society: "And it repented the LORD that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him at his heart." That's Genesis, but it sounds like Jim Hansen.

And surely it is in keeping with this essentially religious outlook that the "solutions" chiefly offered to global warming involve radical changes to personal behavior, all of them with an ascetic, virtue-centric bent: drive less, buy less, walk lightly upon the earth and so on. A light carbon footprint has become the 21st-century equivalent of sexual abstinence.

Finally, there is a psychological explanation. Listen carefully to the global warming alarmists, and the main theme that emerges is that what the developed world needs is a large dose of penance. What's remarkable is the extent to which penance sells among a mostly secular audience. What is there to be penitent about?

As it turns out, a lot, at least if you're inclined to believe that our successes are undeserved and that prosperity is morally suspect. In this view, global warming is nature's great comeuppance, affirming as nothing else our guilty conscience for our worldly success.

In "The Varieties of Religious Experience," William James distinguishes between healthy, life-affirming religion and the monastically inclined, "morbid-minded" religion of the sick-souled. Global warming is sick-souled religion.

2008-07-08T15:05:00.001-07:00

I know it's wrong to covet a handbag that would cover our grocery bill for 6 months + but I want this bag sooooo bad.

It's a Fendi "To You" bag and I found it on Bluefly for US$3,176 (that's 20% off RR). I heard Kyle talking about Jackie O's ugly new bag, looked it up and now I just have to have it.

I can't believe there isn't a cheap copy on Ebay.

As a matter of fact there is something wrong with me!

2008-07-06T04:06:00.000-07:00

I have some alarming news to report.

Aliens (or possibly the CIA) have kidnapped the Sydney Swans and replaced them with bumbling look-alikes who have obviously never played the noble game of AFL; these imposters don't seem to be able to pass or even pick up the ball, they can't run or tackle and find it impossible to kick a goal.

Obviously as a Swans' supporter I am deeply concerned by this development and can only hope that the authorities are able to find the Swans and return them to us before next week's game against Hawthorn.

If you've seen Barry Hall, Ryan O'Keefe or even Spida Everitt wondering around dazed and confused in your suburb could you please contact the authorities as soon as possible.