How rude am I?

Three posts and I haven't introduced myself properly. How rude.

Imagine a 30 year old, svelte brunette with deep green eyes and perfect skin who loves to cook, visits the gym every day and finds housework rewarding.

That's not me.

Not a total lie though. I am a brunette.

I'm a 41 year old mum of five who's let herself go beyond letting herself go, uses Pro Active and visits the fridge every day. I find housework impractical.

Oooh...so close.

In a life that seems sooooo long ago, I was a teacher. I loved being a Visiting Teacher of the Deaf, ironically becoming one before I had a daughter who was diagnosed with a moderate hearing loss. I loved teaching in country Victoria and I loved teaching in the 'burbs. I think I'm over teaching, though. My kids have put me off kids in general, particularly being around them all day. And a school won't pay me to hide in the laundry and drink wine. Not these days.

I'm half way through a Masters degree in Deaf Education. The twins interrupted that idea. I promised myself I would complete it, but now I feel drawn towards audiology instead. I'll need an income to support my husband in supporting our four girls with expensive tastes, so looking into other people's ears seems an appealing option.

I have depression. 

This blog is a way of escaping the repetitive and emotional drainings of psycho-therapy, cognitive behavioural therapy, counselling, etc, that I have had in the last 12 years. I haven't been well in the past (I have a certificate to prove it) and I'm probably still not that well in the present, but I'm here, and I'm writing about my days with hope that laughter really is the best medicine. And hopefully you'll get a buzz knowing that your kids aren't nearly as crazy as mine. 

My 12 year old soft-centred first born is Campbell. The poor lad is surrounded by oestrogen and pink. I worry about him a lot because looking at him is like looking in a mirror emotionally. I worry about him because I sometimes feel I have broken him. 

Campbell

He hates school with a passion and loves scootering with just as much passion. 

He cries more than the average 3 year old.

Spunk.

Ella

Ella is my smart dumb kid, or my dumb smart kid. Either way, she blows me away with her maturity, wisdom and creativity just as much as she scares me with her sometimes strange and out of context comments. Ella's 11, hearing impaired and a brilliant artist. 

I think so anyway.

Grace & Lily. Butter wouldn't melt in their mouths.

Grace and Lily are feisty 3 year old, believe it or not, identical twin girls. They are not 3 months apart as someone once asked me. Don't get me started on epigenetics (the study of heritable changes that occur without a change in the DNA sequence, thank you dictionary.com) because you won't win and you'll be bored in the process. 

They are, at the moment, very very hard work, very very entertaining and very very cute. 

Baby Scarlett

Lucky last, and I mean last, is baby Scarlett. She's only 5 months old but I can tell she's picking up tips from her older siblings who will have a lot to answer for. She's gonna be one hell of a tough kid growing up in a zoo like ours. I love her to death.

Tim

I am married to the biggest kid of all, Tim, who works so hard I barely see him. I must be doing something right because he's still here after all these years. However if he learns to cook for himself I might not see him again. Until then, I think I'm safe. You can't teach an old dog new tricks can you?

Oops, sorry - that's Joshua Jackson.

But if you sorta squint your eyes...

This is my Timbo.

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