Newsflash: Girl who falls face first stands up

I haven’t written a blog post in 4 months. This feels like the confession of a girl who’s not Catholic. I REALLY feel like writing today though. I’ve got the mojo, but I don’t think Falling Face First is my home anymore. Let me explain.

I feel today like writing my usual type of post. My usual ‘my husband talks in his sleep about putting barcodes on the dog’ -kind-of-post. A men baffling me kind-of-post. About them having bucks’ parties that last longer than most weekends. About them going emotionally AWOL with work then LITERALLY bringing home the bacon. About not being sure if I want any answers, or if I like them better shrouded in mystery and a misting of beer. Because I like bacon, and bacon is better than answers. But instead, I’m not writing that post.

I’m wrapping up this blog, and moving to new premises. Here’s why.

Sometimes laughing at yourself and at things isn’t coping, but hiding. I’ve been doing a lot of it over the last couple of years. When I get hemiplegic migraines that make me lose half my body for a day or two at a time, I laugh at myself afterwards. I crack jokes about Weekend at Bernie’s while my kids put stickers over my frozen face. It doesn’t upset me anymore because it just is, but it’s a huge mess in our lives. I’m trying to fix the mess, slow down, and take as many stressors out of my life as possible. I needed rest, food, a different job, to gain weight, and to be present with my family without taking photos and jotting notes. So no posts for the last 4 months.

Tinygrass is dreaming

I got a better job, 4 days, closer to home. I’ve rested. I’ve laughed with my girls and watched Frozen 50 ten million times (not a typo. It’s a real number). I’ve napped on Saturday afternoon. I’ve read blogs and commented on Facebook cos commenting the other way is too hard right now. Had no hangovers instead of 5. Gone to bed at 9pm on many of those Saturday nights. Didn’t manage to gain any weight. Drank an amazing martini last night. I’m feeling happy and relaxed.

My just 7-year-old Little L, with Type 1 Diabetes, is sunshine. The diabetes is not. I make light of the coping, because we just do, partly because I haven’t had a spare moment to take a look at my unacknowledged grief. Somewhere under here I am very sad about the loss of her carefree childhood. The worry, stress, and the fact she will NEVER eat a mouthful without checking and considering her blood sugar and insulin balance and entering the carbohydrate content into her pump. Sometimes there are tears that catch me completely by surprise – I am so caught up in managing the day-to-day of her condition.

Pocket-sized package of wiseness.

Pocket-sized package of wise old woman. 

Instead of cracking jokes to cope, I’m dealing with the shit. I think it’s called being a grown up. It’s pretty boring and bullshit on the social front, but on the personal front, connecting with my kids, getting to know my husband between our Outlook appointments, and reading good books and having beautiful dreams, it really rocks. I didn’t really want to grow up, but now I think I am, I can’t be Falling Face First anymore.

I also have a pretty big project in the works. 

This is our logo. Do you like it?

This is not the last post. There are too many awesome people I have to yell my love to before I go. I just don’t know if I can hang out here very much anymore. I’m done falling on my face.

Watch this space for directions to my new place. You didn’t really think I could run away and just not write anything anymore did you? xx


What do we want? A brain dongle! When do we want it? NOW!

All has been quiet on the Face First front. Apologies. I was felled like a big tree with one of my ‘speshal’ migraines. They make me speshal indeed. Can’t talk (except in gobbdleygookese), can’t walk, can’t think… and being a doozy, I’ve been out now for a couple of days. It’s ok. The recalcitrant left leg and hand are making a slow and reluctant return, and the brian fog is lifting. The neuro said to embrace the couple of days of stupidity and take things easy. So – here I am – sharing with you the insights and flights fantastic of my stupid mind! Sharing is caring, and I care, so, so very much about ewes all.

So join me on an adventure into post-modernism, wishes as horses, and fleeful fanciful flits into the things that we WANT. That would make our lives EASY. That we want NOW. Listen up inventor-people of the world! Today I’m a futurist. My mind is cast adrift, floating in a a sponge cake sea of sherry-soaked trifle. My words are likely to be PURE, UNADULTERATED BULLTWADDLE. And 10% inspirational (if you live in New Zealand and like clouds, as I’m writing from my castle on one).


First up, we all need brain dongles, like they have in Avatar. You know, those ponytails of tendrils they hook together to make ‘connections’? I believe to Avatar-nerds they are actually called ‘neural queues’, but I’m sticking with brain dongle, since I’m lazy, I’m not an Avatar nerd, and a quick google turned up some weird kinky Avatar stuff that would BLOW YOUR DONGLES. If we had these though? Ahhhh. Communicating by simple plug-in would be so much easier than it currently is by, say, SPEAKING, which is ridiculously hard, and open to so much boring misinterpretation. For example, exhibit A: ‘I laugh you’. ‘OH, it’s so good to hear. I love you too!’ ‘Oh. Um. No, I mean I laugh you. Like, I laugh at you. You funny. So sorry. My english not so good yet.’

Also, sidebar please, HOW VERY GOOD is the word dongle? Dongle, dongle dongle. It’s in my top ten desert island words. (Here is my excuse to insert a gratuitous picture of John Cusack, because he was all about his Top 5 desert island everythings in High Fidelity, and ‘obscure’, ‘gratuitous’ and ‘digression’ are my first, middle and last names today.

I know I’ve been here before. But you, Kim Face First, are in my desert island Top 10. I had to come back and offer you a scotch. Rocks?

Exhibit B: If we had brain dongles, we could just plug our thoughts in to each others’ ponytails, and there would be NO confusion about the point I’m actually trying to get to in this waffling wandering post here. You would FEEL ME. Even without my obscene overuse of capitals. At a more mundane level, there would of course also be shopping list by dongle. Look at your pantry. It’s missing? It’s replaced, next time your shopping is delivered, because you clocked the item’s absence.

Do you know what else I want what I really really want? I’m gonna tell you what I want what I really really want. (It’s not a zigazig ha – because nobody knows what that is). It’s an eye makeup machine. Have you seen the Fifth Element? With Bruce Willis and Milla Jovovich? I loved that movie so much I almost called my daughter Lilu till I was overruled. Leeloo (the ‘official’ spelling) picks up a machine like an old-fashioned viewfinder, and POOF! She has a face of makeup on. You will note, it’s CHANEL makeup in the future, daaahling.


Just imagine the possibilities!! Well, there’s only one possibility really. We could walk out of the house with perfectly made-up eyes, without having to sacrifice 15 minutes of precious sleeping, sleeping, or sleeping time! Simply genius! I’d like one in every colour please! Wrap them up! Put them on the account! It looks like they haven’t quite mastered the instant hat on colour-job in the future though. There’s a bit too much Wilma Flinstone going on with Leeloo for this particular girl. Instant hair though? I would like that too, please. Hanging out in the salon with an alfoil head is pretty ok, but I’d rather have a flat white at the beach with the dog if I’m taking a ‘time out’ (with added sprinkles of being choosy).

I know some things are better slow-cooked, and the enjoyment comes with the wait. Lamb, for one, and coffee. I don’t want instant coffee, thanks, or a pod-injection of caffeine to the eyeballs. Don’t want my meals by capsule. If some of the mundane can come out of the hurdles and hoops of the everyday with a little creative invention and fantastic bioengineering then, clever people GET TO IT. I want a brain dongle, NOW, please.

Am I the only one with Top 5 desert island words? And tell me, what is the must-have invention that will make your life easier? 

[Image source: Avatar image -]

Not Charlie Sheen #winning- but LOOK! A funny goat!

I’m not Charlie Sheen. Not winning today. Tiredy, ranty, tired pants. Just back from the neurologist, loaded with scripts for more drugs. Weeeeeee! Hemiplegic migraines are spaced 3 weeks apart now, which is fairly good going, but we’re hoping to get them to six. My neuro is awesome and I love her a lot. I went down like a sack of potatoes in the school playground last Thursday, which was HIGHLY embarrassing, particularly since I’m now not only the ‘new mum with the diabetic daughter’, but we’re now also the ‘family whose daughter has diabetes, and mum that falls down in the playground after she forgets how to walk’. So much for keeping it out of sight. At least we have the ‘cute little sister’ and ‘husband that rides a motorbike’ going for us. Maybe??

Little L’s diabetes is all over the place. She’s high, she’s low, she’s mostly high, high, high, and emotional and cranky and tired, but trying to hold it together. Like a 17-year old girl, trying to get a grip on her hormonal swings, and be the smiley girl the world wants to see. It’s hard to watch the struggle at 17, and it’s hard for me to watch the struggle at 5. She infuriates me with her irrational rage and tantrums, and I want to squeeze her tight at the same time.

Anyway – I’ve had enough of all this whingey whiney blah-dy blahness. Have you? This is possibly my shortest post in history, but I’m flat out trying to get all this shit together, and get some work (cos that’s gone away now too), and run to appointments, and KITCHEN. FAIRY. WHERE ARE YOU?

So when I saw this I laughed, and laughed, and kept on laughing until I weed a little bit.

I do (secretly) quite like Taylor Swift. But I like the goat even more.


The naked post

Some of us bloggers write naked, (metaphorically… I hope), no holds barred, in a raw and passionate way, while others have a kind of ‘character’ who is funny, creative, and in some ways protected under a few layers from the interwebs. I love to read both of these kinds.

Me? Well, I guess I’m closer towards the blogging ‘persona’ side, and I keep a few protective layers of clothes on, to keep from getting sunburnt. I have very fair skin. There are some things I want to explain though, so just for today, I’m naked. Before I do me, I want to do you guys. I want to say thanks. I love that you read this page. You are such warm, giving, welcoming and supportive people in this community, and I’ve got a feeling of guilt that I’m not giving enough myself. Some of my life is hard, and sometimes I’ve run out of give. My intention and desire is there, but my time and physical capacity are challenged.

So. Doing me now. When I started at uni, I was painfully shy, dreading the tutorial breaks where we’d hang out and chat with other law students. They were (and I generalise) a fairly dry bunch, and one day I discovered the beauty of the old ‘fake it till you make it’ approach. I pretended to be the joke-cracking, sociable, party-loving girl until finally, she melded with the real me and I WAS her.

There is a form of this girl living here on my blog. I don’t actually drink as much as it may appear (because, looking back on recent posts, my gosh it seems like a lot! Don’t call AA just yet!) though I do love a tipple. I do love to make people laugh, but I can also be very shy, and there are days where I cry. There are other days, like today, where a neurological condition I have makes me go to bed all day, or if it hits me in public, makes me want to crawl under a rock with embarrassment. I don’t blog on those low days. This is all me you’re getting, but the one that goes to BBQs on the weekends, smiling and made-up, because I cope much better regaling a group with the story of my latest disaster than having them listen wide-eyed with sympathy.

Today I’m bare though, because my stupid condition forced me to be so bare in public. I left my husband’s work Christmas lunch after 5 minutes and a glass of mineral water, because I felt my hand go numb. I get hemiplegic migraines, a rare neurological condition that makes me become temporarily paralysed down one side of my body, and I lose my speech or speak in double-Dutch and become confused and unable to walk or do simple things like drink water. I sometimes lose the ability to swallow too, or partly lose consciousness so my eyes are open but I don’t remember what’s happened after. It looks a whole lot like a stroke, but in a pub restaurant at my age, it looks a whole lot like drunk. I was vaguely aware of the stares and a comment or two on the street as my husband dragged me out of there and parked me on the couch at the office.

Little L knows how to make a phonecall now, and I’m blessed with a great neuro who’s stretched the episodes to about every 3 weeks instead of every 2 days, as they were 3 years ago when they began, but stress and tiredness are huge triggers and there’s no chance of eliminating those elements from my life. Right now I’m frustrated, humiliated, embarrassed, and angry at my stupid draggy leg that I’ll be dragging around probably until I wake up tomorrow, just like a person post-stroke. I am lucky that I’ll regain full function, and I’m also lucky I have no pain with these migraines. I get the other ‘normal’ kind, with aura and splitting pain, only about twice per year. Manageable!

So there’s that. And then there’s little L and her diabetes, and my extra fears that I’m going to conk out and not be able to care for her one day she’s hypo, and little 3-year-old A will be here with two semi-catatonic jellyfish wondering what to do. That’s a very worst nightmare scenario though, and hopefully I’ve thrown just enough coins in the karma jar to prevent it.

About the image thing. While I may say that when I blog I have a few layers on, a friend on the weekend said this is a myth (perhaps one I tell myself to make it easier to write?) and I am, in fact, putting it all pretty much out there. The thing is, though, we never do really, do we? We only put out the person we want the world to see.

Look at Lana del Rey. She’s been somewhat pilloried for being very ‘contrived’ and studied in her image and her approach. She’s a singer, and gorgeous, and I’ve a clip of her below in case you’re unfamiliar with her, and also because I just love love love this song. I did have a giggle when I watched the Little Mermaid recently and realised Lana’s hair bears a striking resemblance to Ariel’s, and that the name of the evil governess is Marina Del Rey. Hmmmm. However, when she was just plain old Lizzy Grant nothing much happened for her. If her image and stage name giver her the confidence to perform, then I say ‘Go Girl’!


So, guys, I want to visit all of your blogs and comment and share the love, and I am doing it all in my head. I’ve recently been nominated for a bloggy Sunshine Award by Mumabulous, and a Liebster Award by Kelly at HT&T. I’m beyond tickled because these guys are among my favourite bloggers ever, and I’d like to start preparing my blog-logie speech right now (that Blogie to you). But, when I’m not around, this is why. Plus the normal stuff… Working, running a house, running small children, blah blah.

I’m trying to give you my best, and give you the BBQ Kim – the one that keeps her clothes on.
Off to get dressed now.

Xxx Kim