Tag Archives: Marriage

2017

Registered Marriage Celebrant

Today is the last day of 2017. A time of reflection.

My year has been one of amazement. I am amazed I have survived. I am amazed my family have survived. There have been times where I would have liked to stab Dear Husband in the eye with a fork. There are many mornings where Girl Child 9 and Boy Child 6 have copped an earful of swearing fit for a pirate ship. But for the most part we have had a good year.

I look back on  posts such as Cows, God and Lego and I realise that I was on a journey that I hadn’t consciously chosen at the time of writing. In this post I wrote of forbidden opinions never to be said out loud. Lucky I wrote them down.

I wrote that it is great to have ceremonies for births, deaths and marriages it helps people cope. I am unsure if this blog post helped me to tread my new path, or whether my subconscious had already begun treading it. Regardless, I am now a Civil Celebrant who can perform these rituals.

What else have I learned by reading my past blogs?

  1. Sometimes I am too gutless to publish my posts. I have 4 drafts sitting unpublished. Perhaps I am not gutless but trying to please everyone which has prevented me from spewing my opinions on the world. Either way, I have sat on my hands with these 4 and saved you from reading them.
  2. I really like good customer service. I really do. I have had minimal arguments with my DH this year. The one’s we have had have been about his embarrassment that I am not afraid to speak my mind when expecting exemplary customer service. He would prefer to shut up and be fed shit. I would prefer to speak up and be treated like I should be.
  3. I am a product of the 70’s. However I am rather judgemental of people who smoke whilst people are eating or anywhere else that they shouldn’t (in 2017). Don’t get me wrong, I love the odd dart. In fact I am secretly inhaling DH’s second hand fumes as I type, wishing it was my mouth on the other end of that butt.
  4. I am passionate about Boobs. No, I don’t go around perving on them, but if you wish to flash those puppies in public go right ahead. I will cop a feel for you if you are unsure of a potential lump, because that’s what friends do. Please check your boobs ladies, this shit saves lives.
  5. Accept the things you cannot change. Back in January I wrote about grieving those who still walk the planet. My heart has healed somewhat since I wrote this post, but the scar is still a little itchy. I have no control over the situation, therefore I must Let it Go.
  6. Menopause is a force to be reckoned with. The hardest part was realising that I was a nasty bitch and nobody liked me (OK, that is a bit harsh on self), another thing was finding out how it affects my health. Getting the balance right comes down to diet and self management, both of which I seem to have a handle on.
  7. Arsehole is another word for Good Parent. I am a Good Parent!
  8. Love your family. The best thing that happened to our marriage this year (apart from my awesome clinical psychologist) was a game of football. I hate football, but I love my husband. Seeing him run onto that field as an old man (Sorry DH, but you were 46 on the day) and sustain a hamstring injury made us laugh, made our kids see him in a different light and generally made us all feel good.
  9. Life is amazing. Choose Life. Stuff happens that make life a challenge, but faced with the facts of how different life would be without me or any of you, I choose life. Sometimes it is a near miss, like I had, that make us reflect how our little and extended families would feel if we were taken from them. This is what I tell myself when the black dog nips at my heals and I feel like everyone else would be better off without me, when I am too scared to try something new in case I fail, when I understand that I am not my parents and never will be, when I listen to my husband and understand his point of view, when I give my kids time to be kids, and the list goes on.
  10. I am Amazing. This year I studied to become a Civil Celebrant.  As I said at the beginning of this post, I was on a journey this year. Becoming a Registered Marriage Celebrant has made be look within, not only at how I feel about marriage, but also about life in general. Life is full of wonder. Life is full of challenges. We only get one chance at life and we should make the best of it

I have done a lot of self improvement this year. I got treatment for being an arsehole menopause. I got even more treatment for my fucked up head (you would think I could sort this shit out after 26 years since diagnosis). I am proud to have forgiven those whom I thought I never could, this includes myself. Thank you Mum for this gem “Forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it”-Mark Twain (although the internet is not sure he wrote it).

Forgiveness has granted me freedom.

Much love from me to you as this year comes to a close. Happy New Year!

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Marriage and Stuff

I’ve been studying to become a Marriage Celebrant.

Recently I was asked “Why the hell would you want to do that?”

Bloody good question really.

Bridezillas, mother of the Bride(zillas), blended family moments were all coming to this friend’s mind. She was thinking that it would be horrid to have to deal with. Well that’s what I took from it. But I believe in the goodness of humanity and those “horrid” people only become horrid when stuff goes bad.

You see it’s a funny thing really. As a small girl I suppose I did think a handsome prince would ride up on his trusty steed and sweep me off to his kingdom far, far away. Far away from my family home and having to watch my parents marriage failing. (Thanks Disney).

And there’s the thing. I did watch my parents marriage end and after watching it I vowed and declared that marriage was not for me. I am never having kids. I dug my heals in and said that living together is just the same as marriage and that would be good enough for me.

In my twenties I got engaged. We were in love. We lived together. We were young. We had different ideals. Eventually that relationship ran it’s course and I thank the universe we never got married and had kids. With the wisdom of hindsight, I can look back and see that if I really did want to get married, I would have done something about setting the date and organising the party. Parties are my thing. It’s what I do well.

In my thirties I hooked up with my husband. I can’t say met, because we met many years earlier as we lived in the same small town. We had always known each other and had mutual friends. We were friends. We had even kissed after a party when I was 15 and he was 17.

We used to party and party hard. When we got home after closing we would crank up the music and continue dancing until the wee hours of the morning. A dear friend said to me how he was romancing me. I scoffed. She was right. He rode up on his trusty steed <insert dream sequence here>, OK, reality check. He walked me home with his bike, ready to return to his place.

I moved in pretty quickly, a) because I was in love, b) because the rent was cheap, and c) because I was living with my mum and her partner. I was still in business then, so I wasn’t home that much.

A couple of years later I was working at the club. The business had folded by then, but I still spent a lot of hours at work, and all nights. Dear Husband was out in the main lounge having some drinks with my aunt and her friend. I went out of the dining area into the casino lounge for my smoke break (oh how times have changed!) and he said to me, “We have just decided on the date for our wedding”. A bit weird, as I was not involved in the conversation, but lovely that that was what was being discussed. We had never done the proposal thing properly or anything.

So that night when I got home, to the house we had built together, he proposed. Sort of. Pissed, but he meant it. He wanted to live with me until he was ninety (I pretend to count down to that time), and he wanted to be married. His mum and dad still are married, his views were a bit different from mine.

Months later I was shopping and found a ring for him to buy me. As you can see, none of this process is the traditional fairy tale. I made him pay for it, even though we already had shared accounts and a home together. The following year we got married.

So why and I writing this? What changed? You are probably saying FFS, get to the point.

We changed. We changed for the better. We are now a married couple. When I talk about him I call him my husband. When he talks about me he calls me his wife. It is different. It is a commitment for life (or at least until he turns 90, wink). We fell pregnant immediately and welcomed GC8 into our world 40 weeks later.

We will be married 10 years in November and we have had our share of shit to deal with. But we have done just that. I don’t like him every second of every day, but I do love him. Standing with our friends and making that commitment changed us in a good way. Unlike my first “engagement” I can’t just walk out on him. There is heaps of legal stuff (and two little people) standing in our way now. That legal stuff is what the same sex couples are striving for when they talk of marriage equality.

We stood before our nearest and dearest and we vowed to stand by each other forever.

So to you my friend who wanted to know Why?

I wish to be the person who performs the ceremony to cement the relationship. I wish to share the joy of making the commitment to one another. I wish to share the love with you and your loved ones. I will help write vows and find the words you are looking for. I wish for a lifetime of happiness.

How a Game of Football Gave Us a Spark.

 

wp-1486523804185.jpgLook at this photo and you will see what most Aussies see, a game of country football. But what happened here in Yarrawonga on Saturday was a lot more than that here at our place.

The things we do for charity! 

If you follow this link you will find the Dolphin Charity Football Game Facebook page. In short, the teams consist of generations of members of one family, the Runnalls, or the “Dolphins” against as many old buggers they can rope into playing “The Superstars”. The proceeds of the day go to the Yarrawonga Hospital Palliative Care Unit.

Until two days before the match we intended on going and supporting this great cause, but I had run into the main organiser in the street and he said, “Why didn’t I ask Fuzz to play?” Bloody good question young man, why not?

So I went home and told my hubby that he was to take his runners and a footy jumper down to the J.C. Lowe Oval for the match, not to worry too much, he would be only sitting on the bench. His initial reaction was immediate divorce. He instantly hated me for dobbing him in. He is 46 years old and has not played a game of football since 1993. Yep, half a lifetime ago.

I jibed him and told him he was a big sook, but in my heart I knew that he would love it! Every year as footy season approaches he tells me how he is going to make a comeback, he is at least going to train, or so he says. We have been together almost 13 years, and he has only ever talked about it.

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All stand for the National Anthem

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He did it. He ran out onto that ground, some kgs overweight, and he played football. I was amazed when he set up a goal in the first quarter, he looked like he knew what he was doing, and of course in his mind he did know what he was doing. The bench, in this instant, was designed that nobody would have to spend much time on the ground, and it was in the third quarter he returned to the field.

Of course by now we were expecting greatness, and when the ball came near him again, he believed it too. He saw that ball and had it in his sights. He felt 21 (his words) and he knew exactly how to pick that bit of pigskin out of the air. As he made his move, his age and fitness caught up with him and twang, his hamstring was strung. From the sidelines we knew he was a goner as he limped off.

But the thing is he did it. Our kids have never seen him play anything except some backyard antics. wp-1486523704293.jpg

As I iced his legs and fetched his beer that night I told him proud I was. I meant it! He got of his arse and off the iPad long enough to have a great day out. His kids saw a man they had never met and we had something to laugh about.

A few beers later and he thanked me for “making” him do it. He admitted that he has wished to have a reason to run out on the field one more time. He felt freaking awesome and we had shared something we can laugh about for a long time.

Isn’t it amazing how a few beers and a shared experience can add a little spark to our world?

P.S. There was over $12,000 raised. A fantastic result for all those involved. Congratulations to the organisers.

 

 

 

“GAME of WAR” Widow

I Game of Warhave lost my husband. My kids have lost their dad, but before you start sending us letters and cards of sympathy, you should know, he is not dead. No. He is away battling others in an app. A very popular app which consumes so much of his time that our kids now roll their eyes and say shit like, ‘Dad wont do that, because, Game of War”.

From the minute he wakes MY (work) iPad is taken outside for his morning coffee and smoke. It then travels to the toilet to do whatever it is that makes men sit for so many minutes- WTF is with men and toilets?  When he returns from work there is a repeat of this action, then he sits in his “spot” outside, or has Doctor Sheldon Cooper would say in Big Bang Theory “single point of consistency in an ever changing world”, where he continues to communicate with his allies and plan strategies to attack their opponents, thus stripping them of hundreds of dollars worth of in app purchases which can never be recovered.

According to Wikipedia

The best you can do is not lose”, because a single attack can “destroy so much that it would take months of gameplay to recover… or 100 bucks”, , in contrast to other MMO games where players who spend money receive benefits that are permanent.

God help us if we need something done and the “Alliance” is about to attack another kingdom. We may as well be poo on the bottom of your shoe. It is real. The troops cannot be left alone. They could all die if he is not in attendance.

Aside from disinfecting the iPad regularly with Glen20, I am now weeding the vegie patch, which isn’t doing so well because in his words “I didn’t really care that much about preparing the soil this year” as well as other Gardening activities, which, in our marriage agreement were to fall on his shoulders as I HATE gardening.

GC8 says “if I ask Dad to make toast, he says one sec, and it takes him 30 minutes”. BC5 concurs.

He seems to know more about his online community than he does his Mates. He shares what we are having for dinner much as I do on Instagram and Facebook, but he shares with people he has never met and has never even had a Facey account. I am ‘Facebook friends’ with his friends and family just to keep them all in the loop as to what the children and I are up to while he is playing GoW.

The upside is I get to look at food pictures from around the world and occasionally one of his “friends” will share information that might spark some very welcome discussion (I am a talker, that’s why I write).

If you are also feeling a void in your life due to some type of app-diction, I want you to know you are not alone. I am here for you. In fact, I’d love a chat about your situation if you would like to have one.

Disclaimer; this content is not intended to cause haters against my husband. He is a loving and caring man even if he can be a bit slow to butter the toast.