Dear Dad

Since you don’t seem to be available at present, I decided to write to you instead.

I hope you’re doing alright back in Oz. Hope Aunty is good and your mokos are well.

Guess what? Moko #4 (thats your great moko) turned 3 the other day. She’s the youngest one. My youngest girls little girl. She’s a bright little button – so clever, so beautiful. She loves her bottles still and has a new ‘love’ – chocolate! Apple doesn’t fall from the family tree there! She had a birthday party with her papa and her papa’s family, last weekend. And during the week, her daycare gave her a cake and let her blow out the candles. She loves doing that. We bought her kinder surprises for her birthday present. While it sounds a bit lame – she loves watching YouTube videos where the kid opens up the big plastic eggs and theres kinder surprises or other little things in them. So we bought her 6 of them!

She’s a gorgeous kid. And her mama makes sure she knows all sides of her family: cousins, aunties, uncles, nannys and koros. Because their family is a bit like ours: Separated and spread out. But even at 3, she knows whose who.

Your eldest mokos eldest baby plays the drums. Did I tell you that? He’s 9 now and he’s been playing the drums since he exited the womb. He’s bloody good you know. He’s been having a hard time at school and thats knocked his confidence a bit; but we’re all working on it for him. He’s a dearly dearly loved little man!

Then theres the 2nd oldest. She’s just a law unto her own. She has her own groove and her own means to measure that groove. She loves dance and sport. Dance – like Me. And sport – like her mama. She has this uncanny ability of remembering who is who and who is related to who. She can remember the family tree, a bit like her mama does. She knows the different koros and where they all are. She remembers who stayed around for the main events and who ‘moved on’. She even remembers those she never met; who died long before she was born. She remembers the stories we tell her, and she re-tells them. She’s 8.

Lastly, the youngest of your eldest moko. She’s dynamic, and so so bright. She has a new friend, from her daycare. They both love chocolate apparently; and spend their day making ‘cakes’ with play dough and taking care of their ‘babies’. She has favourite dresses and shoes that she likes to wear every day. She watches out for her little cousin at daycare too. She doesn’t like the bus because she was in one when it crashed into the gate. I told her that the lady that was driving the bus was a douche and next time she saw her she could tell her off. She liked that. She’s 3 and turning 4 soon.

So why am I telling you all this?

Because you’ve never asked.

My beef with you has always been the same. And as I got older and got on with life, I slowly forgave you for not knowing a god dam thing about Me. And I made as much peace as I could, with the thought that your inability to insert yourself into my existence, was born out of your own insecurities – that it was nothing to do with Me.

But here we are, 45 years later, and you still have no ability to see anything other than You. You still can’t talk to Me, or insert yourself into my life without trying to take it over.

That aside …

I see you, on the 3rd generation, doing exactly the same thing. Even as a great koro, you know virtually nothing about your mokos. I’m unsure if you even know their names. And while I feel sad that they don’t speak with you, and haven’t seen you for a few years; I know they know who you are.

Are they missing out? Considering you are still very much in the land of living – the answer should be Yes.

But unfortunately they aren’t missing out on anything. Not because they don’t know – because you have extracted yourself from another generation.

Heads Up – You possibly don’t have another generation to wait before you get it.

They, on the other hand, are just starting their beautiful lives.

Here’s hoping you can get over yourself before they get too old to care. And here’s hoping you can get over yourself before you die.

Anyway – Take care.

Your daughter.

Me.

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on the menu for tomorrow …

Tomorrow we are off to moko #4s birthday dinner. She turned 3 the other day but because everyone was so busy with … life … her mama decided we’d do dinner on the weekend instead of rushing it during the week.

Thats cool for Us. And cool for moko #4; this’ll be like the 3rd birthday celebration she’s had this week 🙂 Busy times turning 3 😉

So today was food prep … and just generally trying to get my shit together. And in amongst thinking about moko business and birthdays and googling whether we can get a restraining order against this bitch that threatened moko #1 … it occurred to Me just how horrible it is to be afraid.

Not just a little worried about shit, but scared … shitless.

It sucks.

I should know, I’m scared of all sorts of weird shit.

But to be a little person and afraid of big people is an unnaturally familiar feeling; and a feeling I didn’t want my mokos to ever feel.

But here we all are looking down the barrel of Fear. Fear put there by some psycho bitch with either a drug habit or an attitude or a mixture of both.

And I wonder, more than anything else; even more than exacting revenge on this mongrel … I wonder … how are we going to make moko #1 alright, so he’s not continuously looking over his shoulder and jumping at the sight of his own shadow. How do we remedy this for him, or help him to remedy it for himself … because Fear left unchecked causes some major chaos.

I would love for all my mokos to never ever feel any type of hurt or fear or sadness … but I know thats unrealistic: that eventually we all end up having to face these things. But I was hoping that they’d get to be a little bit older … that they’d enjoy a little bit more of being a wide eyed child, before those bubbles were burst.

I guess tomorrow, as we celebrate moko #4s birthday, we’ll find some balance in it all.

And I hope, somewhere between now and tomorrow, this feeling of immense sadness will go.

I’d much rather be angry than sad … but I guess it’s all some sort of ‘feeling’, right?

Right.

I’ll keep telling myself that and lets see what happens …

the moko #1 debacle update:

On Monday, the parents of moko #1 went to their ‘meeting’ with the school to discuss the ‘suspension’ (of a 9 year old grr). I got to attend by phone 😉

The principal and deputy principal tried to talk over him, berate him, accuse him of ‘gang behaviour’ … and then neatly talked themselves into a rather large hole!

Moko #1 didn’t say much throughout … which was just fine by Me … as He is 9 … had I said that already?? He had admitted to flipping this kid and ‘acting aggressively’, and big ups to him for the admission. But what they hadn’t focused on was the 1 1/2 years of bullying prior to this outburst.

Moko #1 left the room for the ‘adult discussion’, which was good too. And during this part, I was super proud of his parents. They stood up for their son, didn’t condone what he’d done at all and most importantly, got these twats to refocus on the bullying aspect. They finally came to the party re dealing with the actual bullies and then came up with a plan for moko #1 to deal with his frustration during class times.

However, toward the end, they suggested that moko #1 get ‘professional’ help and this was the only time I needed to interject. I knew what these bastards were doing. They were building a ‘case’ for themselves … a timeline of delinquent behaviours and an escalation of behaviours. This then gets referred to ‘another department’, that being ‘mental health’ for children, so that if he should become ‘disruptive’ aka they can’t be bothered doing their jobs; then they can palm him off onto someone else. They surely had racially / socially profiled him and his family and were counting on the fact that they wouldn’t know what was happening and wouldn’t dispute the offer of ‘assistance’.

Me: “If it is assistance you are offering and this is not part of the plan moko #1 has to do to come back to school: can the family not get their own assistance / counselling?”

Them: “Ummmm, yes most certainly. No it probably is better that he not be referred to this agency. It is a bit ‘too soon’ I suppose.”

Me: “Good. So this means moko #1 hasn’t been suspended?”

Them: “Oh No No … we love him.”

Me: “Okay. And this won’t be on his academic record or any other school behavioural records?”

Them: *Silence* *Gulping* “Ahhh, No, definitely Not”.

Me: “Excellent”.

With all that sorted and moko #1 breathing a sigh of relief and feeling like he’s finally getting somewhere; his mama picks him and his sister up from school yesterday and they’re both in tears.

Turns out another child’s parent yelled at moko #1 for picking up her childs bag; then proceeded to accuse him of trying to steal it, and then proceeded to tell him she’d kick his ass, and then told him she was watching him and knew who he was. By this time moko #1 had told her to get fucked twice and when she finally raised her voice a bit more at him, he ended up in tears, as did his sister.

And I am wondering what the fuck is wrong with this woman? What the hell gives her the inclination that she has the right to yell and threaten and frighten a child? Yes, I am well fucked off with this one, because on the heels of moko being able to breath a sigh of relief, he is now too scared to be at school.

What the fuck is Up? Really? Why do adults believe they have the right to dominate children? To belittle and scare children?? How fucked!

So tomorrow we are all making a trip to the school. A. to get the school to listen to the entire thing, as they haven’t so far and are concentrating on ‘the possible theft’ of the bag, B. to find this lady and C. to figure out whether moko #1s parents report this bitch to the police.

Grrr.

It’s been one hell of a week!

updating my steez

After the bullshit that was the ACC assessment from the pitt, we had an awesome finale.

Moko #5 arrived that night 🙂

The media ban has finally been lifted and we are allowed to post to our little hearts are content lol. Although I have a  ‘No Moko Photos on Facebook’ policy, I broke it once today and got to put up a proud grandpa and moko photo.

Moko #5 is my partners daughters first baby. And as predicted, he ended up having the delayed reaction to being a grandpa, technically, for the first time. He’s an awesome koro (grandpa) to our other mokos (grandchildren), but they are my blood, not his. I don’t really do the whole blood thing, because our family has always consisted of ‘halves’ and mixes and adoptees. Family, for Me, is not just about blood. It’s about connection, loyalty and love. I think one of the only times I slapped my girl when she was younger, was when she had taunted her sister for not having the same father as her. She didn’t do it again 😉

But for my partner, I knew he’d have quite a deep reaction to becoming a ‘first time’ grandfather. A good reaction. And he did. He’s so proud of his little moko; and proud of his daughter. You can see the look of contentment and fulfilment on his face and in his voice. And I love that 🙂 He knows I consider them all as our mokos, but I want him to enjoy the pride that comes with knowing your spawn has produced spawn … It’s such an awesome feeling.

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.

Peace Out 😉

oh, I’ve got issues …

And not the usual ones 😉

My eldest moko was ‘suspended’ from his school today. He’s 9.

My issues aren’t with his alleged behaviour … my issues are with the school.

I can hear the ‘oh you’re biased’ tone … but, I know I’m not.

Here’s the deal.

Moko has been bullied for months at this school. His parents have been down there and talked with his teacher (as is protocol) on numerous occasions. The story is always the same. And always gets flipped back to moko being too aggressive.

Is it aggressive to stand up for yourself?

I think not!

And then today, his parents receive phone calls to say that they need to pick him up from school because he had another child in a head lock, was waving around a toy gun and pointing it at others kids heads, ‘pulling’ gang signs, wearing a gang ‘bandana and acting threateningly’.

Also noted was that mokos behaviour had been unmanageable ‘for awhile’ and they suggested that he get ‘professional help’ and change his attitude before he came back to school.

I note: at no time had the school contacted mokos parents about this ‘unmanageable behaviour’, and at no time was there an incident report filed or a police report made as to mokos behaviour. And at no time was there any other warnings given about his behaviour.

Instead, he was given a Principals Award for his school work and efforts in class.

His teacher has nothing but glorious praise for ‘such a clever young man’.

So whats happening?

I see a lot of lazy ass covering going on, covered over with a large helping of covert racism.

You see (I have delved into this in other areas of my blog), there is an assumption from some of our population, that those ‘of colour’ are automatically gang affiliated. That those ‘of colour’ have parents who ‘can’t be bothered with their kids’. That those ‘of colour’ are predisposed to aggression and aggressive behaviours.

And this is the rat that I can smell in this scenario.

Moko has never been near anything ‘gang related’. Not even television.

And none of this even touches the fact that the last time moko was bullied and his parents went to the school, it was discovered that moko had retaliated to the bully referring to him as being ‘black’. The other child wasn’t reprimanded. Instead, the incident was ‘left’ and it was decided it was a misunderstanding. Moko was told that if he was bullied again, he was to go straight to the teacher.

Here’s where it gets interesting.

The teachers reside in the teachers lounge during ‘breaks’. There may be one or two walking the playground during these breaks. When mokos parents have confronted the school about their lack of supervision, they have been told that they have ‘cameras’ surveilling the playgrounds. So how is moko supposed to tell a teacher he is being bullied if there is no-one around to tell?

As you’ve probably guessed, messing with my mokos pisses me off greatly!

I compiled a rather short sharp letter for the parents to send to the Principal. It states that the school didn’t follow procedure in the suspension of moko and if they don’t give them written documentation of what transpired today, then they would be  referring this to the Education Department Ombudsmen.

No body fucks with my moko and gets away with it.

Yes see, to suspend a 9 year old is huge. And it pisses me off that they thought that that was the right move. No discussion. No conversation. No getting to the facts. Just a knee jerk suspension.

And don’t get me wrong; if moko did something wrong, he should be reprimanded for it. But reprimanded in light of the Entire story, not just one small piece that they don’t want to deal with.

Thats just bullshit.

So I’m not a happy Nan at the moment. Not happy at all.

but it was soooooo worth it

I had the most amazing and slightly frustrating day yesterday. And I’m stilling processing it…but I live to tell the tale…

I attended my Grandsons school talent quest performance. He plays the drums, and he’s dam good!

For me though, getting there is always a mission, a mish that is harder on some days, easier others. So once again, I gathered up all my beepy bits, as I like to call then; my ‘sensory bag’ (it was originally going to be a box, but has turned into more of an overnight luggage bag lol), which contains things that are intended to ‘reconnect’ myself with the present…so if I disassociate whilst having the all glorious panic attack, I am, in theory, able to bring myself back to the here and now via touch, smell, sight and/or sound. Well that’s the theory anyway.

So with my sensory luggage bag in tow, and after a bit of deep breathing, I donned my dark glasses, got my ‘pillow and blanky’ and tentatively headed for the front seat of the car. I managed about 7 minutes before my sight started blurring and my heart rate started to increase. Once I had got a decent sweat on and felt like vomiting I decided to move to the backseat. It’s not as ‘in your face’ as the front. Anyways, I gave myself a high-five, felt a little defeated because I hadn’t done longer, but oh well.

In the back seat now, my heart was still racing and I was still feeling nauseous and dizzy and sweaty…lovely combination lol. But I breathed…tried listening to something soothing…then a comedy track (comedy…laughter usually gets my coherence in balance again) …. but this wasn’t really working either. I ended up blocking my ears and closing my eyes, and breathing deeper. By the time Id pretty much levelled out, we were at our destination…yah!

We had about an hour to pass before the performance, so I breathed a bit more and tried to distract myself with conversation and enjoying my other Grand-babies. They are very beautiful.

Then came the school. We walked a couple of  minutes….and walked into a large enclosed hall with about 200 children and 100 adults. OMG. I realised immediately this was possibly a wee bit too much lol. But I really really wanted to see my Grandson perform. I was looking in my bag for the ear plugs I had…I had figured it would be quite loud and the ear plugs, in theory would diminish a bit of that noise. Lessen the anxiety. Well I couldn’t find those bastards and had to gather myself before I shot off into a panic about not finding them to lessen the noise to lessen the panic! For fucks sakes!

So breathing deeply, I watched a couple of kids do their performances first. Bad singing and dancing. Completely rottenly judgemental I know….but oh well. But as I started to get a sense of the room and what was happening around me…I became more uncomfortable. [Btw…I was with my partner, grown children and their babies…one of my girls has an amazing way of lightening every moment and being herself…completely. She makes me laugh…they both do actually…and laughter is good for the soul and the coherence 😉 ]

Anyway…the room…it was really quiet. The room/school was pre-dominantly ‘white’ and ‘uptight’. That’s a bit of a generalisation I know….but my girls were educated in an ‘all brown’ school…spot the palangi type place. And while that had its hurdles, it was open…comforting…peaceful…like home. This place was…awkward…like a church or a courtroom; the kind of place that you couldn’t fart in just in case it was louder than was intended. And that’s what everyone looked like! Like they hadn’t farted in years…or desperately needed too but couldn’t or wouldn’t.

I had to try to keep my focus on why I was there and that I wanted to see moko perform. He’s so lovely…my first Grandbaby, (7 years old btw), and an absolute beautiful creation. He has such a wise old soul; big brown knowing all eyes. And as he’s gotten older, he manages to challenge everyone and everything; their values, their theories, their realities. He’s gorgeous…he actually reminds me of how I used to be lol and what I’m trying to return too.

So when he gets up to perform, everything’s quiet…uptight quiet…and we are waiting for his music to come on. And it didn’t – turns out the teacher thought his musical choice was ‘inappropriate’ pfft. So the silence extended slightly…then he started anyway…on the fly, he pulled a piece out of his musical repertoire and smashed those drums like there was a full on Metallica concert happening…and he was the only one invited! He rocked! And I was so excited…I felt so proud and in love with my awesome moko!

And guess what…in that moment…not a hint of any type of anxiousness happened…no increased heart rate nonsense…no, ‘I think I’m gonna pass out’ bullshit…Just sheer joy and pleasure!!!

I’m still recovering from my expedition…but it was soooooo worth it!

Love you moko xoxo

First Published on: May 24, 2015 @ 12:49 ❤

+ As I read over these old posts, I am reminded how far I’ve come and how fucking gangstah I actually am 😉

July 22nd 2017, @1236 ❤

mauri of me #25 ~ 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 😉

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?’

Image

mauri of me #14 ~ 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 😉