Saturday, June 4, 2011
As an educator I have to know my audience before I begin to write. I have to be able to enable my language to reflect the requirements of the audience. This first blog is hard because I think it's actually for me, so I'm really uncertain of my tone. I ebb and flow my intellect level from hugely immature to academic, depending on how I'm feeling at the time. Right now I'm very relaxed and in the moment. To be perfectly honest (which is actually often a negative trait because it gets me into trouble) I am still in bed. My daughter, Charlotte (6) is setting next to me watching a bit of TV Hits, reading a book and chatting away. My fiancee, Melitta is on the other laptop playing Huntsville and responding to Charli's ponderings. My son, Roscoe (11) has been in for a game of UNO and to tell me how he has rearranged his bedroom - again. He has perched on the end of the bed and thrown Easter eggs at us, talked about a painting he saw at the museum with his dad and made me turn TV Hits up VERY loud for The Lazy Song by Bruno Mars.Bruno Mars - The Lazy Song [Official Video]
Oh, now I want to write about music. Our life is full of music. PM (Prior to Mel) I had little music in my life, now it's everywhere. Focus Michelle, FOCUS.
OK... A brief history (which of course we know is relative). Facts are only facts because we state them as such and only cease to be facts when someone else challenges them. Fact - I was born in Brisbane, August 14, 1971 to my Mum. Until I was 8 I believed my Dad was a man named Basil Clive Chester. He passed away from a heart condition November 2, 1979 - that is when my childhood ended. After Dad's death (whenever I refer to Dad it will always be referring to Basil, the' biological sperm donor' has nothing to offer my life other than an awesome sister, nieces and nephews and now a great niece). The story of when I found out the 'fact' of my father is for another day, but suffice to say my biological is a person (now too deceased) by the name of John. He and my mother had a violent 7 year relationship and she finally left him when I was about 6 weeks old and he hit me for the first time (in a butchers shop no less). He was an immoral degenerate who talked his way out of police issues, into peoples lives (and bank accounts), and right up until his lonely, pain filled death thought he could talk his way out of retribution. God has the last word for John. God may forgive, I doubt I will. He hurt people I love, he altered their lives forever, he changed who they were meant to be.
LOL, did I say "brief"? I haven't got past 6 weeks yet....
I grew up in a housing department area called Mornington, Tasmania. My Mum is still there. The only constant in my life really, that house. I went to Mornington Primary School and was pretty average. Lost teeth, suffered through childhood illnesses, made friends, lost friends, had boyfriends, got into trouble, came out of school in the top 5% and went to Mt Carmel College on a 6 year academic scholarship. There's lots about my childhood I could go into here but the blog would end up taking hours to read so I'll just add some snippets. I was a baton twirler. State Champion from the age of 2. Represented in my club and my State and my Family. Don't think I really reached my true potential but maybe I did. That may be a call for someone else to make. My Mum is an alcoholic. Until I was a teenager I thought (secretly hoped) that my Aunty Mary was my 'real' mother and due to the fact that she had a physical disability the family gave me to Mum. It wasn't until I really understood my family that I had to accept that was not the case. My family would never have stopped Aunty Mary from doing anything, ever.
After Mt Carmel I did a 6 month stint as a gopher for Cascade Brewery, experienced 'first love', went OS with a friend, and for the next 3 years had a number of boyfriends, worked as a support worker for people with disabilities, worked in childcare centres, worked as a teacher aide with early special education, started my teaching degree and basically enjoyed life. During that 3 years my Nan, the Head of our family passed away. I suddenly found myself in the role of primary carer for Aunty Mary. This didn't work well for either of us. Aunty Mary (has a story which is a whole other blog) was ready to have her life and that is just what she did. She didn't need a primary carer she needed a family and we worked through that and came out so much stronger at the other end for it.
In 1993 I was working at the Bridgewater Childcare Centre (as well as studying, being a support worker and a teacher aide) and a part time girlfriend and I met 2 beautiful little girls (aged 3 & 2). For my own sanity I shall call them Rhi and Nic. No doubt people who 'know' me will read this blog and know who the children are. The children know who they are. I had no idea of their story until one day I was called in for an urgent meeting. If Rhi and Nic's 'mother' turned up she was not to see the girls or remove them from the centre. There were court proceedings. They lived with their Dad and their mother had 'mental health issues'.
Now is the time to stop. Too many emotions competing and making my reason for writing unclear. Plus Charli wants to have a bath and the washing machine has finished so I best go hang the towels. I have watched the River change from a slow flow of tiny white caps to a fast, tumultuous rush of unpredictability. Definitely time to bask in the glow of family love.