I ate Santa, I dipped him in tea & bit off his leg...

I ate Santa Claus. I created him and then I ate him. I spent a good two hours with my girls building a house of sugar and icing for him, making a home and a life for him. I gladly let it set and get ready while I made sure he was dressed in the best sugar-coated candy clothes, matching his sugar-coated candy hat. What a sight. What an amazing little man.

I put him on top of the fridge when we were finished with him so he could rest and enjoy his new place. He was quite happy up there in his little house covered in jelly beans and candy. He seemed excited at the prospect of having a snowman for a roommate and a beautiful Christmas tree in his yard. I am a horrible person though and gave the snowman and tree to my girls where they were promptly devoured and enjoyed in all their gingerbread goodness.

My heart ached for Santa and I couldn't stand to see him go too so I left him. I walked away from his home on top of the fridge and put my babies to bed, enjoyed some movies with a good friend and eventually went to bed.

That's when it happened...

My stomach growled and twisted, I knew it was time. This was a moment I knew was inevitable but yet, I still dreaded it. I swiftly arose from my bed and padded into the kitchen, turning on the kettle and trying to avoid eye contact. When I finally did look up what I saw changed my feelings about poor Santa Claus. There he was in all his glory with legs and ass hanging over the top of the fridge practically ready to jump into my mug of steaming hot tea. I reached up, over my head and straight to Santa's little legs, grabbing him and pulling him down to me. I swivelled around and glided back to my room and sat at my desk. I looked at him, smiling up at me with his silly grin and the rest is history. There is nothing left but crumbs and I swept those up this morning.

I ate Santa Claus.

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Okay people...that has got to be one of the worst things I have ever written....

Get This Widget #000000 #0000FF

The old cliche about hindsight is horribly true....

Here is my hindsight:

I left home. I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life and now I want to go back. However, so many things have changed in these last few weeks that I'm not sure if I'll ever reclaim what it was that I left. I packed up and ran away to what I thought might be a better place, what just may be what both of us needed to really find what we wanted from one another. I thought I had a shining light in this little apartment, a place where I could flourish.

I was dead wrong.

I left my family. Sure, my babies are with me but I left my chosen family; the one who chose me. I left Big Cranky and his Mom who I was closer to than anyone else in this world barring my two best friends. I left two amazing people who took me in and treated me like I was their family, who were always there for me and who loved me without condition. I packed myself, my three babies and, with my head down, blindly went somewhere that I thought was full of promise. Little did I know that all the promise was in the place that I ran from.

What did I leave behind? I look back on broken hearts and I'm not talking about mine. I look back at Big Cranky and losing his fiance of six years and his three kids who are now in another town. He loved us, loved our family. I know I'm still madly in love with him, I never felt any different and part of me thinks that he may still love me but the other part of me knows that it's only me hoping to get back what I lost. The chances of me having back that love? Slim to none but I'm clinging onto hope that one day we can work this out and raise our children together. I feel like I'm mourning a death when I think of losing him to someone who will never fully understand the person that he is - protective, quiet, intelligent, loving and gentle. I want to grab and hold on and never, ever let go again. I never needed him more than I do right now. I want to feel the safety I felt when he held me. When he wrapped his big arms around me, squeezed until I almost couldn't breathe I felt like I was home, like nothing could hurt me, like I never had to worry again. What wouldn't I give just to hold his hand....

As for his mother, I ripped her heart moving those kids. She loves them more than life itself, just as much as her others. She got to enjoy my girls and my little man on a regular basis and I took that away from her. That was one of the most horrible things I have ever done. It wasn't right and certainly wasn't fair to any of us. Now, not only is she and Big Cranky hurting but so are my babies. I miss my cups of tea with her and our long chats and the ability to vent, cry and laugh with someone who never once judged me, never hurt me. A wonderful woman that never had a malicious thought in her mind and I do something almost unspeakable by leaving her son and taking her babies away.

Then there are the kids. They miss their family dearly. They're acting out and just not the same. Miss Lily cries for Big Cranky, Little Miss screams to call her Daddy constantly and Little Man Meatball, he just knows something isn't right. They didn't deserve to lose more family after losing their Grampie in March. Little Miss and the Meatball may not understand but Miss Lily does. However, none of them were equipped with sudden and severe move that I made and now they're missing the family that I ripped them away from.

What happened since I moved?

Since I got here I left a good job at an engineering firm for a shit job in a call centre. I hired a babysitter who, well it doesn't matter because that's another very angry blog all on it's own but my trust in anyone has completely diminished and made me realize even more what an amazing man I left. I found out that I'm sick, quite sick and the doctor's aren't sure what yet. I left Sydney, my family and in doing that my life fell apart. I want to go home and I want to make it right but how exactly do I do that?

I'm staying with Flo on Christmas Eve, one week from today. I'm hoping that I can talk to her and hopefully, smooth things over. We have been talking but I don't think I ever really told her how much I do love her, think of her as a mother and best friend and miss her. I don't think I ever said just how sorry I am. I'm hoping that I can do the same with Big Cranky. I want to make things right with him and whether or not we get back together as a couple, I want him to know he always has a place with me, I'll always be here for him no matter what happens between us. I want him to know that my home is also his, no matter what the situation. I want him to know he'll always have love here and a safe place when he needs it. I only want him to be happy, whether that is with me or someone else but I know that I can't stand to see him upset and hate myself for being the one who hurt him the most. I don't think the words "I'm sorry" will ever cover just how regretful I am.

What are my next steps?

Investigate the babysitter. Leave my crap-tastic job for employment insurance and take the time to make sure my children are safe and cared for. Continue the medical testing to find out just how sick I am, a very scary prospect. Find a home back in Sydney, back in the Pier and get my ass as close to Flo as I can so that she can have her babies back and I can have at least her back in my life. Get Miss Lily back to her old school where her education was valid and challenging, where she isn't missing and crying for her friends. Give Little Miss and Little Man Meatball the ability to see their Nanny and Daddy whenever the mood strikes them. Right this wrong that I made when I left.

What about me?

I'm just waiting....

Body Revolution - An Epic Battle....

Soooo.....the last few times I tried to do this I turned into a raving lunatic and really cut into a few people, told them exactly what I thought of them which really wasn't good. I have no idea where the thought process is going to take me tonight except that I hope it doesn't end up in the draft list with all the other pieces of anger I let fly the last few nights. I'm going to blame the holidays, BAH HUMBUG!!

Tonight I ate chicken and fries and it is wreaking havoc on my stomach. My large intestine has begun a revolution with the small one, led by my stomach which is dragging in my innocent esophagus into the whole revolution and they are all heading a coup of my midsection. I'm sure my liver and kidneys are wearing Che style t-shirts in support, only replace his picture with that of a colon.

Christmas is going to be a blast without being able to eat anything other than broth, steamed fish and veggies. Everything as bland as possible for this nameless demon that is living inside me, instigating this whole situation. I'm going to call on my brain, heart and lungs to stand with me against the revolting digestive system and call on them to lessen their attack, tame the vicious beast they name Cramp and slow the monster called Trots! I'm praying to all things Pepto-Bismol for some relief of the incessant need to....uh...you get the idea.

There you have it people, I'm calling on my neurons to protest my illness, whatever it may be! We'll find out in the next couple of months I'm sure but until then, let's hope that the Power of Bland will prevail and my most visited room in the house will not be the Throne Room any longer!!

Suck it in and shimmy....

I should be getting ready for work, getting Miss Lily ready for school but I just can't bring myself to crawl out of my room. I'm exhausted from having to get up and look at all the boxes that are still unpacked, the rooms that need to be scrubbed, the laundry that needs to be done, the toilet that is just begging for me to stick my hands in and scrub. That throne and I have a love/hate relationship; we can't live without one another but it enjoys getting messy and I hate cleaning the thing. I'm sure one of these days we're going to fall madly in love but that will be the day that this particular porclein god becomes self-cleaning.

Does anyone hate housework as much as I do? I can't stand doing it and at the same time I can't stand a messy house. Right now my apartment is in shambles (mainly because I HATE the place) and it's making me insane. I can't fit all of my stuff into this tiny, craptastic place and therefore, it's in a constant state of nothing fits. I have to give the warnings at the door, makes me feel like an airline stewardess:

"Alright people, upon entering you will find an enormous plethora of boxes and shoes facing you and please excuse the litter box. Once past the porch area, you'll have to suck it in to get into the living room. After arriving in the living room you will have to play a friendly game of Musical Chairs for a seat because there is no room for anything more than a loveseat.

This apartment is self-serve so, if you find you need a drink or snack, take the following precautions when entering the kitchen: 1) to manouver around the table and stove you will have to suck it in, stand on your tippy toes, turn sideways and shimmy through; 2) the stove gets really hot so try not to touch it with belly or bum on your way; 3) you will have to move chairs and a small telephone table to get to the fridge; 4) you will have to get on top of the washer in order to get to the food cupboard. If at any time you have an issue or get stuck entering the kitchen, please yell and I'm sure the nosy neighbours will call someone, make a report of me beating you and help will eventually arrive. Be sure to let the authorities know that I did not force you into the tight situation as I am not going to jail for unlawful confinement - my apartment should.

The bathroom is a whole other story. It's tiny and strange. Just do what you have to in there but be careful of the pinching toilet seat and the lack of shower head.

Bedrooms are off limits but for the simple reason that the kids room is covered by a sea of toys and blankets that, although cleaned every day, is infinite and acts the same as quicksand. Once you go in, you never come out. I'm still looking for my date from last week. My bedroom is just so full of things that you can't move so don't even bother.

Pets: there are two cats and a very large puppy. One little orange cat will vy for your attention and love by constantly rubbing on you. She is harmless. The little black cat, seen only under tables and staring at you from window sills is a Ninja and you must take precautions. The exact precautions I'm not sure of as I am still trying to figure them out but remember to not make direct eye contact and don't make friends with the dog. The dog...oh the dog...she's a big, stupid puppy. When I say big, I'm talking about 80lbs and 10 months old. She gets excited and likes to pee when she meets new people. She's harmless, don't be afraid of her.

There, I think I just wrote a manual for visiting me.