I cannot begin to tell you how much I have wanted to write something for The Chezzi Diaries these last few weeks, but I just haven’t been able to, for a few reasons that I’ll try explain in this post. Usually everyone is telling me off because I write too much, but I don’t think that’s going to be an issue this time.

I had every intention to write about my Logies experience, Part Two! I’ve got heaps of pictures and stories from inside the event that I wanted to share, however, upon returning home after my time away I realised my kids needed me. They needed me to be present. They missed me so much, and they were crying out for some attention. I had been away for over a week in Melbourne. Firstly, I had to help Grant get back on set to start filming Family Feud again after the accident, and then I had some final Logies prep and then the Logies. My kids were looked after by their grandparents whom loved and spoilt them rotten, but it was obvious to me when I got back they needed some stability. It’s hard to explain but I guess they’re used to their dad being here sometimes and being away at other times, but as it’s normally just us three girls – oh, sorry, four girls now with Princess Popcorn – we’re pretty tight knit. They missed me. They were a bit emotional. A bit naughty. A lot out of our little routine. They needed lots of hugs and kisses and reassurance I wouldn’t go away again. For a little while anyway. So I spent a few days throwing myself back into their little lives. Absorbing every minute I could with them without any interruption from my phone. I didn’t post anything on social media. I forgot about my website or replying to comments, etc. So if I haven’t replied to you, this is why!

Then a few days later, Scout began to vomit. And vomit. And vomit. Like she was possessed by a demon, she sprayed me, the house, the walls with her upchuck. She started Sunday evening, so I sat up with her all night, watching whatever was on the ABC Kids channel. I recall being quite involved in An Idiot Abroad at one point at some ungodly hour, until my poor little baby started up again. During the day she continued to be sick. We would just lay on the lounge or the floor for half an hour while I held a Hydralyte ice-block in her weak little mouth, until she started vomiting again. Night two came and went and I squished myself into her cot next to her so we could both try to get some sleep. Day and night three were a complete haze. Day four we were both utterly exhausted. She was so weak and so hungry. She desperately wanted a bottle but even the smallest amount made her sick. We’ve experienced a few vomiting bugs in our house before but this was ferocious. I took her to the doctor. No one else had the bug so they looked in her throat and saw her tonsils were huge and diagnosed her with tonsillitis. Finally, that night we had a bit of sleep. Not much though. I lost count after my twelfth time up with her, so it was back to the doctors the next day for a check-up. Bottle that night then she started vomiting again. By this stage, I was so tired I literally couldn’t think. Each time she would doze off, I would too. I would finally start to get into a dream state and I would hear “Mummy, cuddle”! It was absolute torture. I was so tired in the mornings getting Sailor ready for school that I felt physically ill. I would eat toast smothered in golden syrup for some energy. Cup of tea. Another piece of toast. Berocca. Piece of chocolate. Another piece of toast. Running around the house, aimlessly trying to get two little people organised with next to no brain capacity. Forget time to have a shower or dress in anything other than what I wore yesterday purely because it was still lying on the chair next to my bed. We’d run out to the car, me carrying kids, bags, food. Shit! Forgot the keys. Run back inside dropping everything along the way. Princess Popcorn grabbing whatever I dropped and running down into the paddock with it. Damn! POPCORN COME HERE! Me running after her while my kids laughed and laughed at the sight. Finally, I would grab her and put her out the backyard. Ok, back to the car. Scout was saying “Bwoody pwopcorne, bwoody pwopcorne, bwoody pwopcorne” repeatedly at me like she was shaming me for swearing. We’re running late now. We speed out the drive way. Damn! Crunch! What was that? Oh, ah, we just ran over one of the kids toys. It’s smashed. They’re crying. I’m crying. Road works … Come ON! Why is this happening today? I’m so bloody tired! I say under my breath! Why can’t I get anything right this week? And so on and so on, just repeating a barrage of negative talk at myself.

Now, I’m just trying to give you a little snapshot of what it’s been like. I’m not going into every single thing that went wrong because frankly I don’t have the energy nor do I want to seem overly dramatic! Everything always seems to go wrong when you’re so tired. Like Princess Popcorn eating Scout’s vomit while I was trying to clean her. Finally, I put Popcorn outside after dressing Scout only to return to the lounge-room to find Scout carrying around two of Princess Popcorn’s poos in her freshly cleaned hand. Why is this happening to me?! And then, two nights after ceasing all projectile vomiting, Scout starts hysterically screaming an hour after falling asleep. Hysterical! I drag myself to her room while trying to pry open my eyes just enough so I don’t walk into a wall. She is standing up screaming. I console her. I hug her. We sit on the rocking chair for what seems like eternity until she calms. I put her back into her cot and sneak back to bed. Just as I take a deep relaxing breath, she begins screaming again. We repeat this process until morning. Well, until 5am when Popcorn starts crying out from her little bedroom in the laundry waking up Scout who had finally fallen into a semi deep sleep. Berocca, toast, tea, toast, chocolate. Scrambling back out to the car. Forgotten keys. Chasing Popcorn down the paddock trying to get Scout’s dummy back. What has my life become? It’s like someone up above is seriously taking the piss! This is like Groundhog Day in the darkest humour ever. I just cannot get a break right now! Hold that thought – Grant flies home today! Yes! My back up has arrived! Or so I think! That night, he sleeps right through my wandering the house with a screaming baby 17 times. And then I catch him complaining about feeling “really quite exhausted’ the next day. My dagger expression means he stops mid-sentence and after seven years of marriage, he knows me well. He puts his arms around me and tells me I’m a wonderful mother and that he’s here to support me because I’m doing it tough at the moment. Crisis averted … Just! We take Scout back to the doctors, where she’s now diagnosed with reflux. Finally, the medication works and after two and a half weeks, she nearly sleeps through the entire night. Thank you, Omeprazole!

I can’t begin to explain how exhausted and depleted I felt through this period. I felt totally overwhelmed. There was so much I needed to do because I had been away for so long previously and it constantly played on my mind, but I couldn’t even write a list of the things I was worrying about because I couldn’t think. I couldn’t pay bills. I couldn’t string a sentence together to save myself. I forgot to fill my car with fuel. I couldn’t even tell you what fuel my car took. I forgot appointments. I missed birthdays. I burnt food. I burnt the handle of my frypan and it caught fire. I smashed a plate accidentally. I dropped a glass while unpacking the dishwasher. I turned a load of white clothes blue because I hadn’t realised the washing machine wasn’t empty before filling it with another load. I left towels on the line for over a week and didn’t realise until they were so starched and frosted they no longer blew in the wind, they were straight like cardboard. I ate so much toast for breakfast, lunch and dinner that my jeans wouldn’t do up. Wouldn’t even come close, actually. I started getting very anxious again. Everything seemed to be going wrong like I was on some merry-go-round of crap, and I couldn’t get off. I knew a really good sleep would fix it but a really good sleep just seemed out of my control. I was asked by people when the next Chezzi Diaries post would go up and I would literally fight back tears. How the hell was I going to write about anything when I couldn’t even think about anything with any clarity other than picturing myself in my bed asleep?

Now parallel to all my drama, another family I know had been going through their own terrible time. A friend of mine had been diagnosed with cancer and lost their very quick battle around the time that Grant had his accident. This friend was such a beautiful soul and had given me many memories that make me laugh to this day. I was told she had lost her brief battle while I was helping Grant on set of Family Feud the week before the Logies. I was really devastated. She had a little boy the same age as Sailor and a lovely husband, both whom she loved dearly. It was only a few months prior that we had enjoyed a little giggle when I ran into her. We were talking about the attitudes of our kids. Could we believe that we actually had these little people? How much our lives had changed, for the better since having our children. This memory was so fresh in my mind it really haunted me. How I wish I spent more time talking to her that day. How I wish I had hugged her then and told her how much she had made me laugh over the years. Hindsight really is torturous in some respects isn’t it? I had planned to call in and visit her little boy and husband upon my return. I just wanted to hug them both and try to give them some love. I can’t explain how much I felt their hurt. I tried picturing myself, my family, and my children in their shoes. I couldn’t even bring myself to really contemplate it though because tears would stream down my face and I would begin to sob. It’s just so unfair. Because Scout was unwell, I wasn’t able to visit them for a fortnight after my return and that played heavily on my mind. Finally, I was able to see them. I can’t explain in this post as there are really no words to describe how devastated I feel for them. It was a few days out from Mother’s Day and here’s this darling little boy left motherless by this tragic and merciless disease. For all my whinging and complaining these past few weeks about how tired I am and how nothing is going right and here is this little family trying to pick up the shattered pieces of its family. How selfish can I be? I won’t go into any more details because they deserve to grieve in private. I wish I could have done more for them. No child should have to lose a parent at that age.. It’s just not fair.

Since seeing them, I’ve also thought a lot about my own situation. I decided to again tell my children and my loved ones how much they mean to me. And also to show them how important they are to me. Instead of listing what bills needed paying (Sorry of I owe you money!) I wrote down a list of people I’ve wanted to reach out to that I haven’t gotten around to for a while. I started thinking back to old friends, colleagues, people who made an impact on my life along the way and I started to try to get back in contact with them. Not by Facebook or by social media but by good old phone! I couldn’t post anything really on social media because nothing really felt right. It felt unauthentic to be going through this process and not really explain how I was feeling. My plans to write about my Logies experience Part Two just seemed totally irrelevant to my current thought process (Sorry if you wanted to read about that). I spent Mother’s Day being totally involved in every moment rather than distracted. I feel so flat when I consider how bad some people have it. Here I was complaining about such ridiculous shit, which would be totally cured as soon as I had a decent night’s sleep – while others’ lives were changed forever and they were plunged into a world of unexpected loss, loneliness and sadness that I can’t even fathom.

So I guess the purpose of this post was to let you know honestly what’s been going on in my life in the past few weeks. Also to just say that sometimes life can be hard. Sometimes it can feel like everything is going wrong. Like you can’t seem to get your head above the water you feel you’re drowning in. If you’re like me then your reaction is to hit yourself with some really bad negative talk, all this does is make you feel even worse. If you can recognise it though, you can start to try to change your thought pattern. I realised I was spending so much energy beating myself up for silly mistakes that I really had little control over, that I was actually wasting time I had to tell my kids that I loved them. To listen to their worries, their fears, their little stories about their crazy dreams the night before. I was so involved in my own drama and became so focussed on everything that was going wrong in my own life that I stopped being grateful for actually being alive. I was so incredibly lucky to spend Mother’s Day with my children and my husband who was able to walk hallelujah after a serious accident. I was also able to celebrate Mother’s Day with my own mother who I love so very much, and my grandmother Marilyn, who means the world to me. I was just so lucky. Nothing else in this world matters at the end of the day. The bills will be paid in due course. I can hit the gym and shed the loaves of bread around my waist. The dog can chew up the dummy until I replace it … But, I get to kiss my children goodnight tonight and wake up and kiss them good-morning. I have tears running down my face right now because it’s such a privilege and it’s such a shame that it takes the loss of a friend to remind us of what’s important.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Logies snaps I haven’t shared yet!