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Today's post is going to be short and sweet as, after the goings on of the past few days, to be honest, I'm kinda emotionally drained. I have been to hell and back questioning myself, as a mother, and a person. And I am exhausted.

So today, I am going for the light-hearted fluffy approach.

I have started a Facebook profile for my blog!

I would like to extend an invitation to you all to come and be my friend!

You can befriend me here, or find my blog on NetworkedBlogs here.

Or you can scroll down and on the left hand side is a button you can click to friend me.

I hope to see you all there!

Welcome!

Hi Guys!

Thanks for joining me at my new blog Brea's Befuddled Brain.

Hopefully we shall have a wonderful time together here, and be much happier.

Take your time, have a look around, and save my new address into your browser. That way we can be together any time you want!

Love Always,

Drama, drama, drama... i.e. What's in a name?

By now most of you know that I had an Anonymous commenter make some pretty horrible remarks hefty insinuations on a post of mine the other day telling me that I shouldn't be posting about Tomika. Their thoughts were that by writing about her doings, posting photo's, and her real name, I was putting her in danger of a host of horrible things happening, not the least of being kidnapping.

I responded by defending myself, (quite snappishly I'll admit) but then I got to thinking...

How much is too much?

I posted my question to Mama Kat on Mama's Losin' It! - a blog that is well known and popular with other Mums - the kind of community I am hoping to tap into.

This is what I said...

Hi Mama Kat,

Quick question. I am new to the blogging world, having clocked up less than 2 weeks worth of posts, and I have just had an ‘Anonymous’ commenter slam me for blogging about my daughter, mentioning her by name, posting photos and up-to-date stories about her.

I have not mentioned anywhere in my blog where we live, Country OR State, or what school she goes to.

I have also seen, on several other blogs, that other parents do the same thing as me. Some even mention where they live.

I was wondering, as a fellow blogger who posts about your family, what are your thoughts on the subject?

 

To which Mama Kat responded...

That’s a quick LOADED question. :) And I like it. Is it possible the person slamming you is somebody who knows you in real life and is disagreeing with your choice to blog?

Here’s the thing. There are people more important and more famous than us who’s entire lives are photographed and tracked. We know their kids’ names, we know where they live, we know where they vacation, etc. 

Are we taking risks by allowing people to see our children on the internet? Yes. How great are the risks? I don’t know. Are there freaks out there? Yes and they scare the crap out of me. But are we taking those same risks when I take my kids ANYWHERE in public? Yes. There will always be creeps. I refuse to live in fear of them. 

I recommend following your instincts. Since you’re so new it might not be a bad idea to give your kids nicknames if it would make you feel more comfortable.

Keeping your last name and the exact location of your home off your blog is definitely wise, but if someone is determined to find you, they probably will. It’s such a touchy topic. We all want to do what’s best for our kids and so many people take opposing views on this. I’m wishy washy, but obviously you see my decision was to allow my kids and their names to be posted in full view. That’s the side I choose.

Hope this helped!!!

As a follow up to this query, Mama Kat added my question to this weeks Writers Workshop for other bloggers to add their own thoughts. Subsequently I found out that this is a popular subject among the blogging community, and there are a myriad of different thoughts and opinions regarding it. You can read about them below.

I would like to say a HUGE thank you to every one who wrote about this subject. Your collective advice has helped me heaps. And they have brought me to this decision.

I will write what I choose to write about my family... And no other person, especially someone who hides behind the banner of Anonymity, will make me feel bad about that. My choice to include my daughter in my blogging was deliberate and not made lightly. My daughter is aware of the blog, she knows I write about her, she has even read it and given me her full support. We BOTH know the risks, and have decided that by withholding identifying landmarks, it was on par with me letting her go out with friends without an accompanying adult.

Having said that, I have decided to change the name of my blog, just in case.

So from now on I shall be known as *drum roll please*...

Brea's Befuddled Brain - The Chaotic Thoughts Of A Single Mum

Cool huh? The change is currently under-way and should be in place by tomorrow.

Below is my WALL OF FAME. A list of bloggers who so kindly lent some brain time to my dilemma. Here you are guys, my ode to you...

Mama Kat @ Mama's Losin' It!

MarfMom @ Musings Of A Marfan Mom

Tammy @ A Red Neck Diva's Kitchen

Farmers Wife

Gregory @ Day To Day With Gregory J

Raine @ True Confessions Of A Single Mother

Amethyst Moon @ Life, Music And Laughter

Ma Vie Et Ma Joie

Linds @ A Dollop Of My Life

Tara @ Tara On The Wander

Brandi @ Life With 5 Monkeys And 1 Ape

Jen @ Nifer Musings

K A B L O O E Y

Lourie @ C A Girl

Kyrsten @ Mommy Inbetween

Sunday @ WYSIWYG

Heather @ Caffine And Dreams

Lindsey @ Tattie Tats

Plus my thanks also go out to the countless people who commented on the posts...

Writers Workshop - I am a child

 

(I originally had this posted on my Writers Workshop page, but for some reason the comment feature on Blogger static pages is currently not working, so it's here.)

25th February 2010

My second attempt. Let's hope this one is better!

3.) “What images inspire you immediately? Open a magazine and create a piece of writing (poem, story, essay) about the first image that captures your imagination.”

My inspiration came from a story about 15 year old Bridget Ford who has a problem that spoke to me.

 

I am a child

My body deceives

My appearance doubts

My mind in turmoil

Confused

My back aches

My shoulders distort

My pain persists

Daily

My peers tease

My elders stare

My inner conflict

Abounds

My parents defend

My friends covet

My nightmare asks

Why

My dearest wish

My breasts reduced

My worth enlarged

Please?

I am a child

Bi-Polar Anonymous...

Occasionally my Bi-Polar Disorder plays up more than normal. (If you aren't up to date on what BPD is, you can go here for an text-book explanation, or here if you actually want to understand what you are reading about.)

On those days I turn into either Uber-Bitch or Depression-Diva, depending on whether I'm up or down on the day in question.

I have decided to use this blog, in part, as my own BPD Anonymous/12 step - program...

Welcome to today's meeting.

Hi, I'm Depression-Diva and I have BPD.

Today I slept until 2.30pm. I got up, had 3 cups of tea, and went back to bed to watch some Dexter. I haven't, as yet, had a shower, or brushed my teeth. I can't be bothered. The scattered thoughts running through my brain, tell me over and over that I'm hopeless. That I'm a bad Mum, a bad person, that I 'should' be up/showered/dressed/cleaning the house/looking for a job. But I really don't care.

Most of the people in my life don't understand. They tell me to 'get over it', 'clean yourself up and you'll feel better' and 'think positively'. It's ok. I get it. They are trying, in the only way they know how, to help.

When it first happened, when my Mum died, I thought I was going insane. I understood grief, and that it was only natural to feel bad, but I couldn't work out why one minute I would be upset, and the next euphoric. It just didn't make sense. Everything I read about grief just didn't fit.

I would spend money I didn't have on crap and not pay my rent or bills. I stopped eating and I drank. A lot. I would go out with friends and get myself totalled, abuse everybody, and then drive home. The next day, I wouldn't remember a thing. I pushed/scared away all my friends. I worried my family. I freaked MYSELF out.

It got to the point where I wouldn't speak to anyone for days, I would ignore the phone, sleep until the late afternoon, turn on the TV, watch for a few hours, then go back to sleep. Or I would stay in bed for days reading. I gave up on me.

Then one day, I realised that I had been in bed for 2 weeks straight. I hadn't showered, I'd barely eaten. I hadn't spoken to anyone the entire time... And I hadn't seen my child. She was at her Dads. That was the day that I finally understood what this was doing to me.

I dragged myself out of bed and onto the computer and I started searching. I found a medical site, (I can't remember the name) that I typed in the stuff I was doing, and it spat out a semi-diagnosis. Bi-Polar Disorder. So I searched that too. I found a forum where people were writing about their thoughts and how they were feeling. I wasn't alone! Finally, I felt a touch better.

Through it I found BeyondBlue, which in turn put me on to a good GP in my area. I made an appointment, and as hard as it was, got myself diagnosed. The rest as they say is history.

These days, after much trial and error, I am on a fairly successful mix of medications that seem to be helping. Most of the time I am symptom free.

So today, I am Depression Diva. Tomorrow, who knows? But I do know one thing, it WILL get better.

The return of Wile E Cockroachy.

 

Remember Wile E Cockroachy?

The unwelcome visitor I had the weekend before last, who came and introduced himself while I was innocently reading myself to sleep; then showed up again the following day trying to join me on the computer?

Well he's back. Or should I say, he WAS back.

I found him doing laps in the toilet this morning. Now I was certainly impressed with his technique (I gave him a 7 out of 10, he was listing to the left a little...), however it did not stop me sending him on the ride of his life down the S bend. TAKE THAT, supposedly invincible, nuclear holocaust surviving, icky icky bug! Mmwwaahaahaa!

Now, knowing my luck, he'll survive on whatever it is that the crocodiles are eating - most of my left socks, countless pens, and ALL my hair ties and such - grow to 6 feet tall, and come back when I least expect it to take his revenge on me by executing his plan for WORLD DOMINATION.

So this blog is my insurance policy. If I ever go missing, you all know what happened to me. A gigantic killer roach came and killed me and most likely took my body with him underground for the rest of the mutants to feed on.

Call the Prime Minister. It's a conspiracy.

Back soon.

Today's post has been delayed due to a bad hair day.


Back soon.

Modern Day Medieval Torture Devices... i.e. Braces.

 

Okay.

So, for the past 6 weeks Tomika has been wearing what is called a 'Rapid Maxillary Expander' (RME) in her mouth. This, thing, is basically a modern day take on the medieval torture device, designed to wrench the jaw bones in the roof of your mouth apart so that your top teeth space out, and your top bite matches up with your bottom. It's what they use these days instead of ripping teeth out, and it's actually supposed to be better for the kids... Less painful and traumatic. Stupidly, as much as they SAY it's better, and call it a RAPID ME, it is, in fact. Excruciatingly. Painfully. Slow.

Every night before bed, she had to turn the barrel of the RME, which in turn forced the jaw bones out further. At the same time, it caused her two front teeth to separate, and a gap large enough to fit her pinky finger to appear in the middle.

Personally, I couldn't think of anything worse, but my girl is strong and confident. She handled the change to her appearance well.

Today she got her braces fitted.

Now it totally goes against my every motherly instinct to see my daughter in pain, and not do anything about it. Especially, if that pain is being inflicted on her by another person. But there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. I had to sit and watch while the Orthodontist stretched her lips as far as they could go, stuck her hands up to her elbows in Tomika's mouth, and all but weld these metal thingys to her teeth. She then proceeded to string them together with barb wire. (In my defence, I may have been a teensy bit biased.)

I wanted to punch her.

ANYWAY, after all that, the end result is this.

All prejudices aside, I like them. For some reason, I think she looks like a proper teenager now. Now I know that's a kinda stupid thing to say, and it's oh so stereotypical. But she now seems her age. Instead of a nearly-13-year-old-going-on-30-year-old. Until she speaks that is...

I'm hoping it will keep the boys away for a few more years. At least until I can get that shotgun I've been eyeing off, and the custom-made chastity belt.

Now there's a medieval device I can approve of!

You're an idiot!

 

I love Tomika. Desperately. So is it wrong if I occasionally want to strangle her?

Tonight I was cooking dinner and about 10 minutes away from it being ready I asked Tomika to nick down the shop to get some bread to eat with the meal. The shop is about 2 minutes from our place, a block away. It would have taken her a total of 5 minutes to go, get the bread, and come home, even if she was walking in typical child slow motion.

She decided that she needed to go to the toilet first.

What's with that anyway? Is it a normal childhood response for them to go to the toilet whenever you ask them to do something?

Me: Please do the dishes.

Tomika: Ok, I'm gonna go to the toilet first.

Me: Time for a shower.

Tomika: 2 seconds, I just need to pee.

Me: Can you take out the rubbish?

Tomika: As soon as I've gone to the loo.

Grrr..!

Anyway, 15 minutes later, dinner is dished up on the table, no bread, no Tomika. I call her to see why she's taking so long at the shop and her phone rings on the coffee table. I go out into the front yard to see if I can see her. I can't see anyone anywhere near the shop. I'm now starting to panic. I go back inside to get some shoes on to go to the shop myself... And there she is, on the couch, watching TV. She looks at me with her phone in her hand and asks why I called her...

I lost it.

Now before Tomika was born I swore to myself that I would NEVER be like those other Mums who yelled and screamed and called their kid names. I had much more class than that. I was smarter, kinder, had more patience.

That vow lasted about 3 minutes.

Don't get me wrong, I TRY to refrain from calling my child names. But honestly, sometimes she IS an idiot. And who am I to buck the system?

Once I had gotten the whole panicky Mum, 'I'm yelling at you because I love you and you scared me' tirade, out of my system, I ended up going to the shop myself, just to have some time to cool down.

It just goes to show that the old adage applies doubly to teenagers. If you want something done properly, without bloodshed, do it yourself.

The Scariest Day Ever...

 

Yesterday Tomika went to a Shopping Centre with two of her girlfriends from school.

By herself.

For the first time.

I DID NOT want her to go. I was scared shitless! I know, I know. She has to grow up and all that. But really... Really? I wanted to tell her, "No, you can't go. You're too LITTLE." I wanted to grab my baby and wrap her up in Mummy's arms and never let her go.

When did my newborn become an independent teenager? When did THAT happen!?

The last time I really looked, she resembled this.

These days, she looks like this.

 

My baby is no longer a baby. She is a beautiful demi-woman.

And  I. Am. Terrified.

Yesterday...

 

I thought I should explain about yesterdays post.

Those of you who know me know that I have chronic back pain caused mainly by having size double G breasts my whole adult life. I also have a hump in my spine from leaning forward to compensate, and indentations in my shoulders from the bra straps supporting their weight.

See below...

 

Here's a close-up shot.

  (Not the most flattering of shots, but you kinda get the idea...)

After waiting five and a half years, I was finally granted a breast reduction in June last year and I thought my problems were over.

This is me now.

 

And here.

 (Again, not a great shot... are you seeing a pattern here?)

Anyway, I was wrong.

Whilst the operation was a success (in that they removed 317 grams from my left breast and 305 grams from my right, making me a D cup - they couldn't go any smaller), and the weight is, literally, off, I still have almost constant back pain. APPARENTLY, the damage to my back, neck and shoulders was already done, so I have to live with it.

Which is fine, except occasionally I can't get out of bed, or function properly.

Yesterday was one of those days. Today... I'm *slightly* better.

So although I made the commitment to BEDUTEOF, unfortunately yesterday I just couldn't. I couldn't even get out of bed to take Tomika to school. She, (bless her heart) wanted to go quite badly, so we organised for her Poppy (her Dads Dad) to drive her. So a big THANKS to him for stepping up when I couldn't. Much appreciated.

Now that I've explained, I feel better and I'm going to lie down again.

Hopefully I'll be recovered tomorrow.

Brea's not here right now...

 

I. Am. In. Pain.

Ouch.

Road Rage vs. Driver Etiquette. I'm outnumbered... are you?

 

This morning I was driving home from dropping Tomika at school and while I was caught up in the inevitable early morning traffic jam I got to thinking about simple driver etiquette.

I was moving along, minding my own business when a red luxury car of some description roared up behind me and proceeded to sit on my ass and fully lean on the horn. Ok, granted I WAS in the so-called 'fast' lane, but considering the fact that the traffic itself was going no-where, I kinda didn't see the need for the theatrics. So, me being me, I slowed down further, aligned myself with the car in the next lane, sat there, and smiled.

WELL, you would have thought I'd stopped the car, climbed on the roof and danced the Macarena. Another furious round of beeping ensued, along with headlights being flashed, some choice gestures and yelling, (I couldn't actually hear, but by the facial contortions I have a feeling I should have been blushing). It was then followed by the driver putting their foot on, and off, the accelerator, resulting in a kind of ramming effect.

The whole performance had less than the desired effect on me, however I did find it rather amusing. I continued on my merry way, laughing to myself, until I'd had enough, and I let the car through. I glanced to the side as it passed (screeching, beeping and yelling), only to find it was a woman! And she had a CHILD in the car!!! Now for starters, far be it for me to suggest that women can't do what men do, equal opportunity and all that, but this one really surprised me. Must we go about acting like testosterone fuelled jackasses just because we can? What are we trying to prove? Have a little class ladies! I suppose it just goes to show that road rage affects us all.

EVEN CHILDREN.

Now I try, I don't always succeed, far from it, but I try to keep an even temper when I have Tomika in the car. I fully believe that kids are infinitely suggestible, and they don't need any more bad behaviour coming from their immediate surroundings than they are already subjected to on a daily basis. E.g., Tomika hears and sees enough rubbish from her peers, TV and other random sources, and she doesn't need me to set her a bad example as well.

Having said that, what happened to driver etiquette? Is it a dying art? Does anyone even know what good manners are any more? I don't know about anyone else, but I was taught a few niceties when I learnt to drive that seem to have been lost to 'olden times'. For instance, when you merge, doesn't it make sense to go one by one? Like a zipper...? And how hard is it, once I've kindly offered you the spot in front of me, to say 'Thanks'? I don't mean you have to get out of your car, get my address, and send me a Thank You card. Just give me a wave. Hell, a simple nod of the head will suffice... Something!

Yesterday morning I saw a taxi, A TAXI; pass me on the LEFT SHOULDER of the Freeway, he went under a bridge that had an on-ramp on the other side, for a total of about 100 meters until the traffic on either side of him forced him to merge. The entire time he was in the Emergency lane. Now, you would think that a taxi driver would have more sense wouldn't you? I mean, that's his livelihood right there that he is messing with. If he was pulled over by the Police, or reported by another pissed-off driver, he'd be in six different shades of shit.

Maybe we all need to purchase a set of these to get us safely from A to Z.

Think people, THINK!

I was surfing around the internet today, and I found something that I thought was extremely interesting.

In case you couldn't read it properly, I typed it out exactly as I found it, with only some minor changes to the formatting to make it easier to read. (Click on the picture to make bigger.)

I find this fascinating because it just goes to show, that no matter how many people say it's "Epic", "Mind-blowing" and, "another milestone in the history of the art (of film-making)", James Cameron's AVATAR is essentially just a remake of Disney's Pocahontas, a 1995 classic children's animated movie. Pocahontas, incidentally, was hailed as being one of the hardest films ever produced by the studio. The "complex colour schemes, angular shapes and facial expressions" meant that the film was in production for 5 years.

 Remind you of anything?

And this?

Now don't get me wrong, I've seen AVATAR, and I, like everyone else, was blown away. I loved it. But it does beg the question, is there actually anything out there these days that is an ORIGINAL idea? And I'm not just talking about movies either.

Take television shows for instance; everything doing the rounds at the moment is a tried and trusted formula, remake, or so-called, reality show 'borrowed' from another country. I mean, how many cop/legal/medical/political drama, renovation, cooking, singing, survival of the fittest, make-over, weight loss, dancing, and fat people loosing weight WHILE dancing; shows do we have to put up with before we finally come to our senses and say enough? Have we finally become the drones we always dreaded we would, unable to have a single unique thought?

And what the hell happened to the canned-laughter, live-audience, plain and simple sitcom? They seem to have been banished to midday, late night, or Foxtel! Now I don't know about you, but with the state of the world, (and my life for that matter) at the moment, I could do with a laugh every now and then to lighten the load a bit.

But since, again, they are mostly re-runs, I'm pretty sure I'd rather read a book.

Shopping and Brea's house of insects...

I went to the front door last night after House (which, incidentally, was pretty good) to let my cat in, and this greeted me.

 

And what I want to know is...  WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!!??

This weekend it was Wile E Cockroachy. Now a bloody great big huntsman? My house is being invaded by creepy crawlies! And he didn't take too kindly to being photographed either, he ran away before I could grab him and put him outside. (I LIKE spiders. So sue me. Cockroaches... not so much.) Which I thought was VERY rude. I figure if you're going to stay at my house, you can at the very least pose for a portrait! I mean, it's not like he's going to kick in for food or the Foxtel bill right?

So I've named him too. Henry. 

Henry: If you're reading this, you are welcome to stay for a while, just next time smile and say cheese huh? 

Everyone else: Welcome to Brea's house of insects... Watch your step.

I went shopping today which, to be honest, is not my favourite activity. I know, I know, I'm female right? It's a prerequisite into womanhood. You have to, like, pass a test or something. Anyway a friend and I walked from one end of the shopping centre to the other, twice, and we bought NOTHING!!! What an absolute waste of time. I must be weird or something but I don't see the value in doing that at all... I just can't grasp the point of window shopping. Why spend hours looking at things you; a) Can't afford, b) Can't fit into, or c) Make you feel like shit because you can't afford them, you're a fat heffa and even the bloody DUMMY looks better in it than you...? (Or maybe that's just me...)

Give me ebay any day. Now there's some shopping I can get into! No lines, plenty of choice, won't blow my budget, don't have to spend all day climbing in and out of clothes in those teeny tiny dressing rooms, and I don't have to deal with grumpy saleswomen who get the shits if you DARE to say "I don't like it" (like this one woman today). AND if it doesn't fit, you can just recycle, stick it back on ebay and resell it for the same price you bought it for! What's not to love?

Is there anybody out there...?

Okay.

So I've challenged myself to Blog Every Day Until The End Of February, (BEDUTEOF lol) just to see if I can. And also because I was a silly girl (woman?) and upset someone I care about by being a bit of a dick (her word) about something that I know I am WAY too anal about.

(Great, my first post and already I'll be search-able by people who are looking for anal or dick... or both.)

Now I would usually sit here on the first post and umm and ahh about what to say. I won't. I know what to say.

Sorry.

She knows who she is. I'm an idjit.

That's all.
__________

Now to other things.

House is on tonight, and whilst I absolutely LOVE the show, I find I'm not enjoying this season as much as previous ones. I don't know why, I guess it's because House isn't a mean, arrogant, sarcastic, drug addict any more... I know, stupid right? I find myself waiting for him to pop a pill, and sexually harass a colleague, or, something. But, well... When a formula works, it's best to just stick to it I think. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it." Or something to that effect.

I'm feeling awfully scatterbrained at the moment. I'm not sure why. My mind is jumping from one subject to another without settling anywhere in particular. I guess it's because I have many thoughts on what to write, but I can't actually get them in any sort of order...

I had the house to myself this weekend, and I must say, it was quite refreshing to be alone. Well, apart from the 2 dogs, 5 cats, 7 birds, and the BLOODY COCKROACH IN MY BEDROOM! I was in bed, reading, as I do, when I saw this HUGE shadow on the wall. I actually thought, "Shit, we've been invaded by aliens and no-body called to tell me. Ahh I'm dead. Oh well, I've had a good run. I wonder if they probe..." Luckily for me and my womanly virtue, it was a trick of the light, the roach *shiver* was crawling down my internet cable from outside. So of course, I proceeded to trash my room looking for the bugger so I could kill it. But, wile as they are, it managed to slip away somewhere.

The next day I was sitting at my PC minding my own business and what should I see sitting on the corner of my desk? You got it. The roach. Another round of furious smacking and stomping ensued and needless to say, it got away. Again.

So I have decided to name it. Wile E Cockroachy. And he shall be my pet and I shall love him and hug him and...

God I'm a sick puppy sometimes.

Bring on the insect spray.