Sunday, October 31, 2010

The secret mother

The secret mothers

We never spoke of our mothers,
She was the one taboo subject, never mentioned.
Through a fear that her name would unravel our appearance in our burgeoning lives.
We were kids, our larval adults and we were ashamed.
Our lives at that time were filled with bluster, built on bravado and to make mention of your mother
was to confess to who combed your hair that morning and where you got that spanking, shiny, new pair of shoes.
To mention her name was to confess to having your face buffed clean with noting but spit, love and a dirty tissue.
To manifest her into a world outside your home was to invite embarrassment and a perception, however true, that there was very little in this world you could do alone.
We were a proud bunch, unwilling to admit that she was your manager, your boss your worker. your confidant, your provider, the object of your tantrums and your nurse.
And through all that you had to keep her in her place, because she was yours because you needed her to be that for you as your world was becoming a hard, overwhelming, exhilarating terrifying place...And she was home.
She was your sanctuary.
She had to remain pure, separate from the outside.
So we never spoke of her.
And she knew.
 And when we grew our own legs and sprouted our wings and made the first of our own, many mistakes,  we came to realize this.
 Freed from our own self obsessed myopic state of adolescence, we began to see her differently; we began to see the flaws in her deity. We saw a woman, once a girl, who made mistakes and wildly improvised things that seemed so assured at the time. She cried, she hissed, she laughed, she screamed, she drank, she smoked, she felt, she faltered, and sometimes she wanted to leave.
She was human and when that dawns on us, when we finally push past her shadow we think that we finally understand her.
Then the unthinkable happens.
We reach the age she was when she birthed us. Or we buy a house. We get married. We get divorced. Or we have kids of our own. Whichever. Whatever. Something happens that puts us directly in her footsteps and in that moment we realize how little she knew, how hard it all must have seemed and how someone who in your eyes epitomized being an adult at the time, was nothing but a child herself.
For most of us, she's still with us when we come to these realizations, cackling over our shoulders and pointing fingers at us; roaring with joy and rightfully gloating at the horror of your epiphany and the final absolution of your discovery: that she tried.
Thats all.
Sometimes because she had to. Sometimes because she wanted. Sometimes not to the best of her abilities. Sometimes beyond them. Yet she always did and lived with the consequence.
She still does.
 Yet my friends, i still don't speak of our mothers.
Johnathan's mother was an insurance sales woman, the first in her office. It was one of the proudest days in her life. she was beautiful and her husband never thought he was good enough for her so he would drink and call her terrible things. She left him in the end because she agreed with him...She was too beautiful for him.
 Katie's mother didn't want what she had and left her daughter in her shadow.
Katie never knew what a mother really was, having never experienced it, so when she in turn had a child, Katie invented her own version and it had nothing to do with motherhood, or being a mother, as she didn't know what that was.
She just tried to fill her child with herself, what she knew and hoped would be enough.
When Katie met her mother again years later, the mother commented on what a good job Katie had done.
It meant the world to Katie. She didn't know why.
 My mother was a nurse, like i am now, and like she is again. She wanted alot from the world. She met my father. They fell in love. They changed each others course. She had a son. Then awhile later, she had another.
Despite her moods and her needs, she loved them both. She suppressed parts of herself to be a better mother.
Sometimes, I know, she thinks she failed. When happy she is warm. When not she is an iceberg. When angry she could make the ground shudder with her mighty stomping heels and the power of her silence.
Into her late forties, while reading, she would suck her thumb.
When dancing she ALWAYS sings along to the song playing.
In my early twenties, when sick, she had to drag me from the shower as i couldn't move.
Fevered, naked and wet, my mother dragging me across a tiled floor; i felt like i had just been born. I felt like jesus just been taken down from the cross.
 Eight years ago she discovered the dead body of my older brother, her first born son in his room. She was alone. She has never spoken of it.
 Only mothers can even imagine what that must feel like.
Not fathers, not friends, not brothers. No one. It is a weight that i can only imagine. It is a burden that cant be measured. Yet she continues, sometimes because she has to, sometimes because she wants to. Sometimes not to the best of her abilities, sometimes beyond them.
A deity. Cracked.
And through all those cracks we can see what lies beneath.
We never spoke of our mothers.
 We didn't know any better.

copyright © Richard Adams 2010

Saturday, October 30, 2010


You were placed in my arms wrapped up in a blanket a long time after you were born,
You struggled and fought through the illness and pain
You never complained
I watch you grow daily and hit your milestones...eventually
Your smiles... your always smiling
they light my heart
I watch you slowly find your way as you tell me
mummy go away let me explore
but dont go too far
a couple weeks ago you started to crawl
and today
You pulled yourself up on a toy box and stood proud
Proud of what you have achieved
All by yourself
With the love and support and room to grow.

Friday, October 29, 2010

moments in time

Overheard from the kitchen (separated by a petition wall) while little miss and Jnr Madhouse were in the living room.

Little miss cried when she turned around and realized i wasn't in the room.

Sissy its ok me here,
Me here sissy and mummy here and daddy here sissy.
You ok
Sissy stop cry, I love you you cry make me sad. 
Me make you better sissy me will always save you.
look sissy my Binky

moments like that I know their bond is strong. 

Thursday, October 28, 2010

EC Fail

Dont you hate it when your doing EC with a very cute baby, take their nappy off and let the crawl around the floor knowing full well they need a poo but then nature calls you too.

And when you get back from the toilet that same cute baby is now sitting on the carpet covered in poo and rapidly trying to consume as much as they can before you can stop them.

Dont ya just hate that

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

And so it begins

Jnr Madhouse is almost three cycles of the sun and last night we began our first steps toward teaching him to read and write.
I would dearly love to either homeschool or unschool our children but that is a work in progress with Mr Madhouse and a battle im not currently winning.

But it starts at home..... now.

take the time

As i grow as a person, as a parent i become more aware of my decisions and how what i do in everyday life effects not only myself and those around me but effects my community and my childrens communities.

I hope/dream that by being a more aware parent i am changing my childrens lives and generations to come.
I take the time to listen to my children
I take the time to explain to them
I take the time to explore with them

Take the time out of your busy life to begin to make these changes for your children, your family, your community.

What are your children going to remember when they grow up?
Are they going to remember the house was spotless and dinner was always on time, that they had the newest toys and clothes?
Or are they going to remember you sat on the floor with them and read them a book or drove a car around the kitchen table with them?

What would you rather?

wake up

Im not a perfect parent.
I do not claim to be, however i am aware of my actions and the impact they have on my children.
Thats why im revisiting this topic.

Between the years of 1999 and 2003
9% of childrens deaths thats a staggering 128 children died from assaults.
Of those 128 children who died at the hands of someone the loved and trusted 65% of those were under the age of 5 years old.*

 I have hit my children in the past, I will not again

What are we doing to our children?

Go here and ban the smack

for more reading on the topic visit Milkymumma , visit here, and read this

*australian Bureau of stats.


Tuesday, October 26, 2010

conversations with children

Changing little miss one day with Jnr Madhouse sitting next to me.

Distressed look on Jnr's face
Mummy, mummy oh no sissy is broken

what do you mean sissy is broken

mummy sissy is broken look mummy sissy is broken.

I dont understant mate, why is sissy broken?

She has no penis mum! MUMMY FIX HER.

I think we need more work on our anatomy lessons. 

What is

One day each week i will post a question the answer to the question i hope to be able to show in a single photo.
This week however cause im awesome you get two photos.

This weeks question.
What is Love?

What is Love to you? 


Want to do something meaningful today without having to leave your comfy seat?

Go HERE and ban the smack!

An ode to someone i love

I really didnt want to start this blog on such a depressing point but today is the anniversary of someone i loved death.
This person was extremely special to me, their guidance, support and love still sits with me all these years later.


Sometimes we laugh
Sometimes we cry
Sometimes we just dont move at all
From a life full of love and
A life full of pain
I could never be happy again
Just go to your heart and unlock that door
To a special place you aint been before

Its a life full of joy
Its a life full of fun
Its a life where everyone lives as one

With the Lord to provide
and his song in our heart
Theres no reason
we cant have a new start

R.I.P Bridget


This is the mad house.

The players in our mad house are but not limited to

the father: self explanatory really, otherwise known as Mr madhouse
Me: the mother in this story known by mumma, mummy, mum and all forms of.
Little Dude: Jnr Madhouse who is coming up 3 circles of the sun, a creative, funny, challenging soul
Little Miss: Jnr Me who is coming up one circle of the sun, she is an amazing creature such a happy little soul.

Other players in the Madhouse how will be commonly mentioned:

The old fulla: My father a dedicated grandfather who has always been a strong figure in my life.
She who must be obeyed : SWMBO is my mum, again a dedicated grandmother and constant confidant to me.
Little Philip: My nephew who has Downs syndrome. I love him dearly he is a constant challenge but such a character who teaches me new things daily. Almost 7 circles of the sun
Missy Moo: Little Philip's twin sister who is sassy, outspoken and sensitive.
Buddy: Little Philip and Missy Moo's little brother who i have an extremely close bond with, he is truely a light in my life. Hes coming up 6 circles of the sun.

Well there you go im sure more will be added to the list but that will do for now.


Well hello there.
Welcome to the madhouse, i do hope you stick around and join us as we wade our way through parenting our little family.
grab a cuppa and settle in.