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the gutt-wrench.

the weekend just gone, i said ‘goodbye’ to my daughter & my beautiful moko.

moko is going to live with her papa & nanny, & my girl has joined the army.

i hate goodbyes.

i prefer – ‘see you later’.

but this whole process has had me reeling for months & as d.day got closer, it did a number on my insides, which i am still slowly processing.

i’m trying to be kind to myself & roll with the punches … but i’m feeling slightly bruised now.

i’m not sure how to explain it all, but thats about the size of me & fucking emotions.

i feel raw though. raw & vulnerable. & i hate it. but i’m sitting with the whole fucking thing.

it’s change. & its a new chapter. for all of us.


kpm ©


 

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moko & big dig big ups

before the month declined slightly, i didn’t get the chance to post the beginning of said month, & that it was awesome starting this gregorian year off with my eldest moko.

this year he’ll be 11 … eeek.

he’s so gorgeous & such a lovely kid.

i’d asked him what he wanted to do for ‘new years’ & he reckoned he wasn’t fussed … just staying awake was an achievement ! so we did pizza & the beach earlier in the evening & then watched everyone elses fireworks from the comfort of our backyard ;)

lame photo of the ‘fireworks’ i know. but let me just point out my achievement for  this night.

i haven’t ‘done’ fireworks displays for years & definitely haven’t gone out to take pics of any recently lol. yep, fireworks are all the usual pts(d) fuckery – loud, bright, random. this is the first year in fucking years i smiled @ them – hence the photo being shit lol.

so high-fucking-five me !

the following couple days before moko went home to his fams, he said he was missing his baby brother & told me all about how he got him up in the mornings & they’d have a chat (moko #9 is the newbie & he’s 4 months old) & then moko #1 would put bubba in his chair & turn on a specific cartoon for him, which apparently loves. i thought this was awesome & asked him why he does it. he says to me: so mama can have a sleep & cos i love him.

like i said, he’s a lovely kid.

anyway … the day before moko went home, we went to a ‘big dig’ – the purpose was to dig for 4 hours to hopefully find a plastic token & thusly win a corresponding prize.

he didn’t find anything & think he was over it within the first hour, but he persevered lol.

for me, it was a bit of a fucked up ‘achievement’. my beach was packed … & i mean packed (for our area anyways). not indicative of calm & tranquility, especially at this time of the year … but i sucked it up … well actually, breathed it out … & went down.

no-one but me really recognised the achievement, but oh well: you don’t always get a high five for the shit yah do ay.

have i mentioned i love my mokos?

they make life good xox


kpm ©


 

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the reasons im here.

we don’t have a lot of contact with moko #8. and today we found out her leg was broken whilst in the care of her daycare.

.

.

there should be some very simple but very important things happening now.

  • her day to day care, whilst in a cast, post surgery, should be a given.
  • the details that were missed when we were first told, should have been filled in by now. we have offered our assistance.
  • the daycare that she was in should be asked, ‘WTF happened?’

but so far the partner has been told he’s lucky to have been told at all. that moko is ‘fine’. that we weren’t going to be told because we’d ‘tell on the daycare’ and get them in trouble.

.

.

yep thats a mother fucking long ass pause.

.

i’m am trying my damn-dest to breath and gather my shit.

in all ways this is layer upon layer of absolute bullshit.

add to that the deafening silence and retreat into ‘i don’t want to talk about it’ territory everyones going too.

.

all this, once again, smells awfully familiar.

this is how abuse within a familial system, thrives.

its left unchecked.

adults cover other adults asses.

and in the meantime, they all forget about the little person who could not protect her self and can’t speak for herself now.

ohhhh the fuckery.

.

there aint no way i’m letting this shit slide. at all.

.

and here i am again though, speaking and acting for those who can’t … which i don’t mind. what i do mind is the fucking ignorance and downright complacency and lack of mother fucking care there is going on around me.

and yep, its a-fucking-with-the-pts(d) big fucking time.


nan always said, when it rains it pours. just as well i don’t mind the fucking rain.


kpm©


 

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mokopuna.

mokopuna – grandchildren.


Is there anything else more special-er than mokopuna? I think not.

As I’ve been saying, moko #6 is due very soon … like any day now … I am as prepared as I can be. Excited and nervous but good.

I’ve had an interesting niggle in the last week or 2 and upon closer inspection, it turned out to be grief.

Why on earth grief?

Well …

Moko #6 is actually moko #9.

I haven’t excluded my other mokos, I just haven’t mentioned them, because I had believed it wasn’t my place.

As the grief started making its way up and out, I realised they are mine and it is my place to grieve for them and acknowledge them as I do my 2nd daughter who became an angel baby before she was born.

So, Moko #1 became an angel baby early on. Her Mama had named her but not really acknowledge the grief that accompanied her loss. Her siblings however, wanted to know where she was and they include her in all their conversations now.

I hadn’t grieved the loss of my first Moko because I had talked my girl through what was happening when she lost her. I think I felt like I didn’t deserve to grieve.

But now I do … and the grief is becoming something different. I know she, who would have been 11, is with her tipuna (ancestors) and her aunty (my girl, who would have been 29). She is loved here and loved where she is.

Then came Moko #2 (who I have until now, always called Moko #1). I was present at his birth and he was and is super perfect! I was so proud of my girl and her little bundle of cuteness. I’d do virtual anything for that kid … he’s 10 and is our little drummer now … an absolutely beautiful soul.

Then came Moko #3. She’s one in a million. She’s confident and sensitive and has an all-knowing personality / soul. She’s a talented little miss and succeeds way OTT at anything she puts her hands and mind too. She’s that kind of kid. Truly incredible.

Then there was Moko #4. She became an angel baby too. She would have been 7. I didn’t grieve her properly at all at the time because I was in mama mode. Again, I helped my girl through that time … she grieved … I didn’t. But like her cousin, she’s with her tipuna and aunty and she is loved … both here and there.

Then came Moko #5. A beautiful little soul. Such a strong willed and confident darling. She’s about to turn 5. She’s challenged all of us to be congruent and honest. She’s so herself and she’s brought the best out in her siblings, parents and her grandparents ;)

Then came Moko #6, another beautiful little girl. She’s just turned 4. This is our little singer and performer. She’s been singing and dancing and moving since she left the womb. She’s an absolute delight. Her Mama keeps in close contact with her paternal family which is awesome, so she knows all her family from both sides. She’s super gorgeous and I look forward to seeing what she will do.

Then there was Moko #7. He would have been 3. He’s our angel baby too. I didn’t grieve at all. I was so lame myself I had no room to let that emotion in. I know now, like the others, he’s with his tipuna, his aunty, sister and cousin.

Then came Moko #8. She’s just turned 1. She’s my partners biological Moko, but as far as we are all concerned, she is Ours too. She a cutie. So strong willed and adventurous, like nerve wracking adventurous lol. She’s a beauty.

And now we wait for Moko #9s arrival. He’s due anytime now and his pending arrival is exciting. His Mama is attempting to have him naturally after having 2 C sections … she’s that kinda woman!

So thats it.

I’m still processing a few tears. And these last few months have been way more than I expected … for the better.

I guess we can’t process what we don’t acknowledge. And you can’t acknowledge what you don’t know.

Now I know.

Love and light and awesomeness to Me and my Mokos and my Familia xoxo


kpm © : ig @kpm-artist


 

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photography .83


#breakfast #brunch #food #familia #moko_love #bnw #photography #kpm©


kpm © : ig @kpm-artist


 

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#moko #shutdown #macro #photography #kpm ©


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unfucked memory.

Karakia:

Atua

Tukua

Homai to Aroha

Ae.

Another ‘moko’ aka Grandbaby memory:

The Mokos (Grandchildren / Grandchild) Koro (Grandfather) (my partner) makes a cooked breakfast most mornings. Even though their parents would usually have given the mokos their usual breakfast / milk or whatever it was that was their norm; once ‘cooked breakfast’ arrived, each moko (except for 1 – Moko 3), would crawl up onto his lap whilst he was eating and starting poking around at his toast and baked beans, the sausages and bacon. He’s complain about them ‘eating all his breakfast’ and they’d sit happily on his lap eating away, till the plate was empty.

Mokos aged 9 and 8 still do they same thing, but without crawling up into his lap now. He’ll ask them if they want a cooked breakfast … they reply No … and then as he dishes up, they appear with: “Oh, Koro, can we have some baked beans …”, he rolls his eyes and dishes up extra plates of food.

What I really enjoyed this morning was the stories he told them of all the times they’d eaten up his breakfast, followed by the hysterical belly rolling laughter that followed. They sat and ate and laughed for nearly an hour.

I guess the important thing about growing up are the memories. For these darling Mokos, I really hope they embrace the memories and the laughter. Some of the most important things in this life.

<3


kpm ©


 

done and done

I had my big ass assessment this morning … holy hell, what a mission. I was nervous … so nervous, my tummy has been in knots for days.

But now its over, thank fuck!

Aside from the obvious, which I survived to tell the tale, I gleaned a few tidbits I am ruminating on.

  1. Our health, particularly our mental health, system, is fucked. As per usual, my descriptions are ‘layman-womans’ terms. Now this news is nothing new; however today I got another awakening to just how stitched up everything is. After wading my nervous, semi sedated self through the myriad of questions relating to ‘permanent impairment’, I discovered that our health system rates permanent impairment in levels. Under 30% permanent impairment means – whilst you may not be able to hold down a job, or drive, or socialise, or talk on the phone, or be alone, or leave the house – if you are not in an institution and on medication, you are fine. Another words, 30% is the cap before they haul you off to the nut house and jab you with drool inducing meds. As this reality dawned on me during the assessment, 2 things happened.
  2. I became very aware that I didn’t want to rate over 30%.
  3. I became very aware that the likely-hood of receiving anymore than $35 a week for ‘permanent impairment’ was nil.
  4. Which brings me back to point 1.

I left that office slightly grateful that I hadn’t been institutionalised at any time. It would have killed me if I had. I shit you not. Me – Caged? Fuck No. It can’t happen.

But I was also very aware that my dance with ACC is grinding to a rather unproductive halt. It has been an exercise in asserting and flexing my rights, for sure. As far as having a productive outcome … well, apparently I am entitled to a life times worth of counselling slash psychologist intervention. Oh and mind bending medication if I so wish to be mind bent.

What struck me whilst answering all those rather intrusive questions, was that interacting with ‘the health system’ makes me feel more unhealthy. How is that possible? I’m unsure. Maybe because with every question about concentration or socialisation, I am trying to figure out what is deemed as normal. No I don’t interact with many people. But on a whole I don’t find people very interact-able. When I tried to explain this, I actually ended up sounding reasonably mad – even to myself lol.

You see (and I’ve talked about this before), when I go somewhere – meet people -just enter a place really – theres a shit tonne of things that happen. I was trying to relay this reality today.

When I arrived for my appointment, this is what I noted:

  • There are two large slow moving sliding glass doors to get into before you enter.
  • Not an easy exit.
  • 2 ladies sat at the front desk.
  • Mellow, low, horrid music in the background. It’s source was in the corner of the foyer.
  • 1st woman recked of cheap perfume.
  • 2nd was more interested in her lunch. It was 8.50am.
  • The lights were seedy. Lots of them. Meaning it was bright.
  • No open windows.
  • 1 door open, to files room, to the left of me.
  • Waiting room – large, hospital set up.
  • 2 large ugly pictures on far wall.
  • 2 framed ‘signs’. 1 about phones and photos.
  • 1 large ugly picture behind me.
  • toy box to the right in the corner.
  • water cooler far left.
  • it smelt dusty but cleaned.

And thats not the office. And this is me on an unobservant day.

So hows my concentration?

I don’t know how to answer that.

What I know is, it’s all fucking tiring.

Anyways … I am here … I survived. I still hate the system and I’m still unsocial lol.

On a lighter and nicer note: We are now waiting for the impending birth of moko #5 :)

My partners daughter went into labour this morning and this is her first baby. If she’s anything like her mother, her labour and birth should be quite short. But bubbys have a way of doing what they please :) It was moko #4s 3rd birthday yesterday, so we will end up with 2 birthdays close together which is kinda cool.

Right, I’m going to find some chocolate and make a cup of tea.


kpm ©


 

moko #2.

Like all the mokos, moko #2 is special … and being a nanny means I am completely biased … as I should be. However, what gets Me about moko #2, or little miss 8 now … is she’s a pain in the ass lol. What admire though is how she is able to ‘read the room’ (in her unique way) and figure out in minutes what a person’s vulnerability or sore point is. She generally can figure out what she needs to do to exploit that persons weakness to get what she wants. On its own, this ‘trait’ sounds kinda dodgy lol … but I realised one day, that this shit is what people train for when they go into sales … how to read a person and exploit their ‘weakness’ to get a sale.

Well miss moko has figured out how to do this all on her own ;)

Whats also interesting though, is she won’t exploit the ‘actual’ vulnerable.

We have a nephew who has severe CP, and miss 8 / moko #2, will spend hours playing quietly with him. This is a 2 fold thing for her though … 1. she’s able to hang out with the nephew and spend time with him and 2. when she wants quiet time, if she goes by him, no-one bugs her because ‘polite people’ can’t deal with a severely impaired CP nephew; so they leave them both alone. Now how freaking genius is that.

I admire that moko #2 is able to manage her; is able to get what she needs and what she wants; I admire that she pushes every and any boundary to adjust and find her own; I admire that she pisses people off so easily and isn’t terribly phased – cos you know how many years people sit in a councillors office trying to figure this shit ay!; I admire that she ‘sees’ people – their insides – their intent – long before the person can themselves.

Added to all this charm, moko #2 is an awesome little fashionista. She knows what she likes and how to put it together and she doesn’t give a rats ass what other people think or say … because there have been some rude bastards comment on how ‘she’s put together’, criticising her style. But she brushes it off like it aint no thing … and usually gives them a look of  … ‘what ever ; you obviously have no idea’ lol. Not once does she take any of that criticism on board!

I love miss moko #2 … I can’t wait to see what she does next ;)


kpm ©


 

yeah, ok …

So,as I sit here downloading more episodes of Dora the bloody explorer, for moko #4’s impending arrival … listening to the fire roaring, cos its also bloody freezing … feeling toasty in my birthday slippers … and looking super comfy with my Nanny bun on top of my head …

A thought occurs …

‘When did I stop being gangster?’


kpm ©


 

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moko #3.

My moko #3.

She’s a beauty. She’s 3 and has always been mamas girl.

Which has produced this secure, steadfast, knows exactly what she likes and doesn’t like, kind of little darling.

What is ultra funny though … and I appreciate immensely, is that she seems to be able to intimidate most people. I’ve even seen grown men squirm ;)

As strange as this sounds, it is true.

Little darling won’t talk if she doesn’t want to. Especially if she doesn’t understand what it is your saying … or if what you’re saying is bullshit ;)

As the ‘conversation’ evolves, you can see the adult digging themselves a big ass hole that they pretty much cover over themselves too. All the while, Miss 3 hasn’t said a word but has kept eye contact throughout.

Everything that ends up pouring out of the adults mouth, are all those uncomfortable little social innuendos that people do in social situations, but aren’t really ‘anything’.

With Miss 3, it goes abit like this:

‘Oh, you’re so cute; How old are you; i bet you love kindy; which kindy do you go too; oh thats a pretty dress; did your mama buy that dress; oh i see you have chocolate; aren’t you a lucky girl; oh you don’t say much do you; she’s cute though …..’

The hole has been dug at this point.

None of that ‘conversation’ is for anyones sake other than the adults. They’re not actually asking questions for Miss 3 to answer, they’re just filling up the air with that whiney ‘ohhhhhh, you’re so cute’ voice that people like to make when they talk at children.

The Brilliance of Miss 3 …. ” Homie don’t play that ;) ”

Oh I love her … I feel like we’re kindred spirits LOL.

Well, the other day … Miss 3, chose this little treat for Me.

The partner wanted to get something ‘flashy-er’: but Miss 3 chose this.

And I loved that she chose this one: it’s not adult-y, at all ;)


kpm ©


 

moko #1.

Moko #1 will be 9 this year. What a little man he is :)

He’s taught Me so much about being a child … being who we are …

He rocks the boat most days and has questions for miles! And both of those things, I absolutely love about him. He has the questions that no-one asks, because its ‘improper’ to do so; he’s the one who is somehow able to put things into questions when we can’t quite figure out what the question is, that needs to be asked … he’s the one that challenges everything that would appear to be right or normal, and stretches the imagination and the perception … i.e.: “who made god then???” … he’s 9 :)

I was there at his birth … and remember well the overwhelming feeling of becoming a grandmother … and the sheer joy that also came with becoming a grandmother.

And I love being a grandmother :)

He has big brown eyes and a beautiful smile. I love his nature and his way; his talents and character.

He is part of Me. I am part of Him.

And I absolutely love him to bits xoxox


kpm ©


 

 

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moko one & our shared love of music.

Moko #1 left yesterday :(

I so enjoyed having him here … he’s a little darling … and sooooo smart.

He’s abit of a musician, so its a love (of music) that we share. He has a set of drums and has just become the proud owner of an Amp for his electric guitar.

We did abit of discussing of ‘genres’ … as in he’s still finding his groove … and what he likes to play too versus listen too.

Now Moko is also a bit of a know-it-all (dunno where he got that from lol) and he wanted to know why I was singing along to a song he’d been singing most of the week. This song:

  • I’m Still Standing – Elton John, 1983

Apparently it was a ‘new’ song and had I ‘seen the movie’??

Well, this started a 2 hour convo on music. With YouTube in hand, I took him on a very long journey looking at where his ‘new music’ originated from … that ‘Sing’ didn’t make up these songs, but they were in fact ‘covers’. Nothing wrong with covers I said; but plugging that he needed to know where they came from. Just like family :)

Then we did a check of music genres, as he was certain that he should be playing his other ‘grandfathers’ music. Little bug bear for me … his ‘other grandfather’ (my ex-husband), is a critical twat; and he’s told Moko #1 that he ‘hits the drums too hard’, ‘can’t follow the beat properly’ and ‘needs to listen better’; which has quite successfully, taken Moko #1s joy away re playing the drums … or anything for that matter. My mission is to give that back to him ;)

So, I proceeded to play him this, for abit of inspiration ;) :

  • Alien Weaponry – Raupatu, 2017.
  • No copyright was found, however, because I’m down with promoting Tangata Whenua, the following is on the YouTube blurb:
  • Published on Jan 31, 2017
    Produced By Tom Larkin
    Mixed by Samuel K Sproull at Studios in The city Melbourne.
    Recorded at Roundhead Studios New Zealand.
    Videography by Dave Thomson & Piotr Ziomus.
  • You can also follow Alien Weaponry here:
  • https://www.facebook.com/AlienWeaponry/
  • What is ultra ultra brilliant about this band, is that they are all Tangata Whenua, and they are all young men :)

Now not a thrash metal fan myself, I wasn’t too sure how he’d take this … but much to my surprise … he loved it! And the reason, I figured … was because if nothing else … thrash is pure artistic expression! And Moko #1 could feel that!

So today, we have an old friend of ours …  and a thrash metal drummer … going out to Mokos house to show him how he plays the drums ;) Excellent!!!!

So back to the lessons: Moko #1 was insistent that this song:

  • Don’t You Worry Bout A Thing (Cover) – Tori Kelly, 2016.

… came from the movie ‘Sing’ … again … and again, a long winded disagreement ensued, until I found this:

  • Don’t You Worry Bout A Thing – Stevie Wonder, release 1973.

And now we have a new Stevie Wonder fan in Moko #1 … who is also apparently impressed that a blind guy can play the piano like that!

Which got us back to the topic of

“Feeling the Music”

Big smiles as Moko got it, finally !!!

Yuss – my job here is done!


kpm ©


 

moko #4

This little human being, (moko #4) melts the heart. The youngest of the mokos at the moment, she has arrived at a time when I am more responsive as a Nan.

And theres a few things that I’ve really noticed about her … and Me.

She has no fear … no fear of being wrong, or right, of screaming what she wants, of doing her own thing. She, even at 2, is outspoken and demanding … she knows exactly what she wants and needs. And when she does become frightened, of a noise, or a stranger, or something she doesn’t understand … she is still able to demand what she needs … ‘I need comfort … a cuddle …’, whatever … she is able to articulate (verbally and non-verbally) that in no uncertain terms ;)

And as I watch her demand her space and freedom and her cuddles and anything else that she wants or needs … I see what I missed, but was always going on inside of Me.

I possess that same strength … it is just being ‘voiced’ exponentially ‘now’, making up for everything that never got to be expressed ‘then’.

Thats not a sad thing … thats a part of Me that I can do now … it’s also a part of Me that this little human being has inherited … and she will master it better than Me :)


kpm ©


 

family time

I decided to go stay with my daughters and the mokos the other day. Just for a catch up. I also think I was excited from my trip away with my Mama and that I could actually do it! I wanted to see what else I could do – stretch my limits so to speak.

And I loved it … I got to see moko 4 … lots of cuddles and stories :) And my youngest daughter … I hadn’t caught up with either of them after they returned from up north a few weeks ago.

Mokos 1, 2 and 3 … well they were their beautiful selves as well! Moko 1 has been playing the drums since he could walk and set up an elaborate construction of pots and pans on the floor and bash the living shit out of them … and now, at 8 years old, he has his own little drum kit and is having lessons. And now he’s teaching Me :) And guess what?? I think I’ve found my thing! You know, that thing that makes everything alright??!!! Yeah, well it turns out I’m not half bad! And I love bashing the living shit out of those things and making some kind of semblance of ‘music’ ;) So a set of drums is now on the ‘wish list’ slash ‘save for list’. My neighbours will be thrilled LOL.

Moko 1 is a deep wee soul too … he’s a thinker … thinks outside the box. He makes me smile :)

Then theres Moko 2. Whoaza! Miss 7 … oh, how to describe Miss 7 … sensitive – pushes the boundaries – pushes the buttons – knows the weak points in anothers personality – caring – empathetic (way beyond her years) – stroppy – vocal …

She’s gorgeous and she’s recently discovered a love for gymnastics. Not only is she extremely good it, but she loves it. You know how cool it is to see someone you love find their groove? Especially so early on in life! And for Miss 7, rhythm, dance, movement, design … these are all her things … that add to the beauty that is her :)

Moko 3 … well … she has the straightest face I’ve ever seen on a child. Piercing eyes … enough to make a grown man feel awkward. You know how proud I am of that skill LOL! And she knows what she wants … she’s nearly 3, and is very sure of what she likes and dislikes … likes, being chocolate and The Fast and The Furious LOL … dislikes, being loud noises and someone in her face! She reminds me a lot of her Mama :)

Moko 4 … has just turned 2. What a little madam :) Very cute … very particular … very much in her own groove; giving her Mama a run for her money … and now they’re living with my eldest daughter, Moko 4 is finding a whole new confidence … you know the kind that has ‘back up’. When Mama says No, she has Aunty and Uncle and Cousins she can run to, drop her lip and point to the top shelf where the ‘bic-its’ (biscuits) are, and they’ll get them for her LOL. Extremely resourceful darling :)

So, an enjoyable couple of days with everyone.

I survived … I conquered … I stretched myself … I had a couple of ‘moments’, but nothing to warrant medication ;)

And guess what?

I’m fucking exhausted now LOL!!!


kpm ©


 

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mokos granny book

Moko ‘just turned 7’ brought a tonne of books with her, for us to read … I think we only got through 3 or 4 … oh well, next time moko :)

But one of the books we did read, was called ‘101 things granny should do’, or know, or something like that.

I thought I was going to be greeted with a lovely little story about how granny should be loving and caring and give cuddles and extra ice cream … all that kind of stuff … but instead …

There was 101 menial chores, tasks and rules that granny should do and obey. Most of those things included doing laundry, baking cakes, gardening, going to games, cooking, keeping a clean house … yes my fuck, keeping a clean house! Now I could have a few of those things wrong; can’t quite remember it all, as I think the red ‘is this sexist or what’ rage had kicked in after the first two pages. But I read on and moko seemed pretty pleased with the whole reading process.

When we got to the end of the book, I quietly placed it to one side and asked moko: “What is it exactly the Grandpa gets to do?”

And just as quietly and ever so pleasantly, moko replies: “I don’t know, they didn’t have a Grandpa book”.

Well that just fucken says it all doesn’t it! LOL


kpm ©


 

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family fatigue ??

I have had the most amazing few days with my mokos and then last night with my daughters. They’re so beautiful … yes I am slightly biased though.

Up until this particular round of moko madness, I’ve found having them stay for longer than 24 hours, hugely challenging. Not just because these two are ‘miss nearly 3’ and ‘miss just turned 7’ and talk and ask ‘why’ incessantly … not at all LOL … but because I usually get fatigued, then overwhelmed by the noise, then frustrated, then sad, then feel them guilts, then back to fatigued … yes PTSD can be a bitch.

What I noticed quite dramatically this time though, was the lack of all those things! And in the moments that those things started to raise their ugly heads, I was able to manage them. I breathed, I ‘grounded’, I slowed down, I articulated what I needed, I made sure I got what I needed … I made sure they understood what was happening. It made the whole experience completely fucken awesome!

That corner that I rounded without really realising it … well it’s pretty bloody cool.

And as I sat up till 430am, and gas bagged with my daughters … ate chocolate … YUM … and watched cheesy funny movies … I loved every minute of it! I loved them … I loved feeling a new sense of freedom and relief.

Ahhhhh … *happy sigh*


kpm ©


 

photography & art @kpm-artist SaveSave

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to the daddy:

shitty photo taken on a shitty phone, of a beautiful little darling, with her koro xo

As a bit of a background on my families state of ‘fathers’ and ‘fatherlessness’. The intention is that you think about this as you make your own decision about being an absentee father.

My mothers father, my Grandfather was an extremely good man. He was proud but humble; forthright but gentle. He worked hard … extremely hard … to provide for his family. He was a 2nd World War veteran, so understood the work ethic that made provision for his family. This wasn’t always wealth, as in monetary wealth. He worked his garden everyday and grew everything that his family ate. He bartered his handyman-ship for goods, services and food whenever he was able. He went without ‘stuff’ to make sure all his children were clothed, educated and had financial backing for their futures. He cooked and budgeted and saved. He was a good role model. He was also a silent, faithful and loyal man. He did what he said. Period. I considered him my Grandfather and my Father.

Why?

Because mine had bailed out.

My Mother left my Father when I was about 6 months old. My Father was physically violent and emotionally distant. He worked hard I am told. When my Mother left him, he left me. He didn’t come and visit at all. The first time I saw him I was 7. Our relationship has been the same ever since. He’s getting old now. And so am I. I don’t hate my Father like I used too, but I don’t really know him … and I don’t care too really. He is what he is. I am what I am.

When I had my daughters I wanted them to have a Father that was present. Or so I thought. I wanted it because I hadn’t had it. My first girls Father was violent. So I got rid of him. And like my own Father, he thought that meant he should be absent from his daughter.

My second girls Father I was married to. When we separated, his punishment of me was to not pick up the girls. They eventually went and lived with him for a time and then returned to my care. I thought he would naturally continue being part of their lives as he had for the previous 2 years.

But he didn’t. And he still doesn’t.

My question to you, Father of my Moko …

Is this going to be your legacy also? Are you going to estrange yourself from your daughter because you are ‘busy’, ‘lost’, ‘tired’? Are you going to let her grow up not knowing much about who you are? Are you going to let her grow up thinking that you are nothing but a passer-by?

We are all extremely capable women who have been raised by extremely capable women.  But should this type of scenario continue for yet another generation? Will you let your daughter be raised without your influence in her life?

From what I can see, you are not a bad man. A little lost at present, but not a bad man. You seem to have good intentions and seem to love our little beauty as much as you are able. But I really would like you to get off your ass and start acting like a man and a decent Father; and if you don’t know how to, get lessons!

You see, I really couldn’t give a fuck if your lost or tired or don’t feel like you know how to be a father … You are a father and your little girl / our beautiful Moko / needs a steady, solid male influence in her life. She needs to know you love her and will always be there for her. She needs to feel protected by you … like she can be any and everything and you will support and love her through every little thing.

And really … if you can’t do this for her … like I said, get lessons or PRETEND!

You should not be absent because its more convenient for You and for Us; or because you have a lack of knowledge or understanding. That excuse is old and tired.

You have a job to do … so do it!

From One Hell of a Protective Nanny who has had enough of Absentee Fathers.


kpm ©


 

when im

remember me please.

when i’m a framed

photograph

on the wall.


kpm ©