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A poorly designed homemade bong for inhalation...

A poorly designed homemade bong for inhalation of cannabis. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Apparently, I was not alone in being psychotically anxious to see the back of 2013 on NYE. The old man and I have always been highly suspicious of ‘odd’ years and this year did nothing to disprove our fear of impending doom.

As many of you will know, 2013 was dominated by a kind of ‘coming of age’ of our son Kurt, and at times the year felt distinctly bleak.

Sixteen year old boys can be a challenge. Sixteen year old boys with ADHD can send you to the funny farm.

Thank God for medication – MINE, not his.

But when asked to put the year into perspective, (several times during the distillation of my New Year’s hangover and before the real fireworks began), I realised that it hasn’t all been bad.

The move to Gotham has been positive overall. Imagine how fucking HUGE it was moving down from the safe provinciality of the Beaches to the Lower North Shore (darling).

Admittedly, some of the changes have taken some adjusting to. But after completing a year of living closer to the edgier side of life, I am now able to sleep through the perpetual rumble of trains on the bridge, the inane chit chat of drunks on a Friday and Saturday night (who seem to all agree that having a piss and a chit chat in front of our house is great), and the tempting and lingering odour from the local Thai restaurants and fish and chip shop.

I like having the excitement of the city on our doorstep, being a five-minute train ride away from the best retail therapy ever and the buzz of the multi-cultural mix of people in our new neighbourhood. I feel more inclusive, more cosmopolitan, dare I say ‘alive’ again, as though my eyes have been opened and my horizons have been broadened – (rather than narrowed by the limitations of ageing, like my arteries).

Unfortunately, our foray into pastures new has moved Kurt closer to the source of illicit teenage experimentation and a more liberal and freethinking crowd who sometimes forget that he does not possess the same Dopamine levels as them – levels that enable him to think about the consequences of his actions.

But the move has also given him a taste of independence too, a better sense of belonging and the education to create a bong out of any type of bottle with a piece of garden hose – (apparently Iced Tea bottles are the best).

Kurt has been a fantastic enabler for me this year, socially, too. He has helped me meet and form alliances with an abundance of diverse people, from therapists, to psychiatrists, several school principals, teachers and many over-critical parents. All have formed opinions of my son – some good, some bad. All have been happy to confirm mine and the old man’s secret belief that Kurt will either end up a huge success in life… or in prison. He is a person of excess, and normality and isolation terrify him.

His drumming has tested my hearing, his impulsivity has tested my nerves and his emotions have tested my heart.

The old man’s brush with the courtyard paving mid-year put his personal goals into perspective too. It was a bloody reminder that ‘shit can happen’ and to live every day as if it is your last, rather than worrying and saving for those rainy days that we may never see. It meant that we both got our first ride in an ambulance and could make our first claim on our private health insurance which secretly gave him a thrill, but his change of heart has not impacted me in the way I had hoped – as of yet, no funds have been released in an uncharacteristically rash demonstration of philanthropy or love, although he has stopped calling me every time a new transaction goes through our online banking system if it has not had prior approval.

In times of crisis, links can be broken and bonds can be weakened. Luckily, ours seem to get stronger with adversity.

NC has blossomed this year. Leaving the often bitchy and judgemental microcosm of high school and having the time to discover who she really is, she has continued to excel in many areas of her life. Her life’s work continues with the cataloguing of her private rock collection, her manipulation of her father (particularly in the area of family finances), the re-styling of her bedroom from a pit into what now resembles a South American waste pile, and her attempt to control ‘relationships’ to avoid hurt – relationships are a very foreign concept to someone with Spock’s perception of the world.

NC has been my rock at times when the going with her brother has been particularly fucking tough – her reassurance that the cocaine I found under Kurt’s bed was in fact crushed ADHD meds springs to mind – and in spite of her fraternal distrust of brother, she is often a mature and fair sounding-board for her over-anxious parents.

And my personal year has been a year of further education and learning. I have learned more about writing and have achieved some consolidation of this passion of mine. At times the power of writing has served as my saviour. I have learned how to make a bong out of a plastic bottle, I have found new friends on-line who have calmed me and made me laugh out loud at low points, opened my eyes to greater knowledge and increased my thirst to learn more. I have discovered that my husband can still make me laugh even when the proverbial shit hits the fan, does listen to me occasionally and eventually acts upon my words of accusation. So that I continue to trust him.

Many of our family and social circle have experienced real crises this year such as illness and loss. They appear to the outside world to be healing, but we all know that we store pain in our hearts and it only dulls with time. They appear strong to the outside world because life has to go on and it is too mentally invasive and emotionally taxing to demonstrate a broken heart publicly. I hope for them that 2014 is a year of recovery and new hope as they strive towards some inner peace. If they don’t realise it now, the pain has made them better, stronger people that we all secretly admire from afar.

I hope that by this time next year we are all still healthy, that I have finished my fucking book, that Kurt is still in the school he starts in January and has begun to respect some of society’s ridiculous rules, and that NC continues to radiate the inner happiness that gives me and the old man the hope that we did something right. I also hope that our friends will have tolerated us for another year even though we are shockingly unresponsive friends.Happy New Year

What I Learnt in 2013:

The medication works.

Never to go clothes shopping after the weekend.

To abandon all parenting manuals because every child is different.

Swimming costumes are not designed for middle-aged women.

That women’s vulvas are all very different.

That the weight battle continues to be a real bitch in middle age, and I mustn’t allow it to consume me. I am cutting my losses this year and going for the more realistic approach of ‘maintaining my weight’ rather than trying to lose it. Buying clothes a few sizes larger so they feel loose remains a good mental coping strategy.

That you can scaffold your teenagers but at some point they have to take responsibility for their own actions. Removing all sources of funding, vanquishment and consumption of their illegal stocks of alcohol can help alleviate the pain, as does ‘time out’ (by locking them away in the attic) and corporal punishment

Wine continues to be a delusional yet highly successful source of self-medication.

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE x

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