Quixotic Life

In the meantime..

2011-10-10T16:24:00.000+10:00

Hey peeps, You've probably noticed it's been very quiet over here, and I'm trying real hard to find my mojo again and get back to this blog, but in the meantime, you might be interested to see what I'm up to over here on my new blog.

I've been focussing a lot on my health and fitness and getting foxy (Oh, God, another bloody weight-loss blog I hear you say), and I wanted a blog that was just focussed only on that, so rather than hijack this blog, which I'm still very fond of and can't wait to get back to, Fox on the Run was born.

Please check it out and let me know what you think!

And I promise I'll be back on Quixotic Life real soon, ranting away at no-one in particular. =D

Tantrums and other Terrorist Tactics

2010-12-31T09:21:00.000+10:00

My mother thought she’d found a lost child the other day. There was a little girl, standing in the middle of a crowded shopping centre, bawling her head off. Mum was sitting on a couch nearby, and asked her if she was lost? Did she know where here Mummy was?

“Right here” was the grim reply a woman nearby, who had been seemingly ignoring her.

“She’s not lost, she just ‘having a moment’”, explained the Mum.

Ahh, tantrums – don’t you just love ‘em?

Erm, no actually. Detest them.

Then yesterday I was watching The View and heard Sherri talking about her son having a meltdown because she wouldn’t buy him a video game while she was in a computer store. All the other women asked her how did she cope, and she simply said, “I just let him have it”. For a heart-plunging second I thought she meant she let him have the game, but she meant she just let him have his tantrum, paid for what she had to get, and left (well, dragged him out). Thank God, an American with some common sense.

One of the other women, Joy, asked her why didn’t she use something other than “No”, like “Not today”, or “Mummy can’t afford it” or “We’ll see” or a million other bloody tiptoeing methods of not actually being in charge of the conversation. God forbid a child should hear the word “No” directed at him. I mean, that’ll never happen in his adult life right? And imagine if it does, won’t it be a lovely surprise for him?! I’m sure he’ll know exactly how to cope with being told no by his boss, his bank manager, his wife, given all the coping skills he learned in childhood, watching those Baby Einstein videos (whenever he demanded to, of course).

I loved Whoopi Goldberg’s reaction to Joy explaining she was just thinking of way to “avoid the tantrum”. “There is no ‘avoiding the tantrum’, if they’re gonna have one, they’re gonna have one – no matter how you phrase it, how you say it - even if you give them the damn toy! They might be tired, hungry or sometimes they’re just in a funky mood. Some days I’m like that, you can’t take me anywhere!”. Amen.

To be honest, tantrums were the one part of parenting that really had me scared when I was pregnant. I’m not good at dealing with overly emotional people at the best of times. I tend to explore my emotions in writing; in real life I don’t do touchy-feely at all. My husband is one of those rare and incredible men who talks openly and often about his feelings, and it makes me so squirmy and uncomfortable when he starts talking about how he’s feeling that I just have to jump him rather than listen to him talk. How would I cope with some little person having a meltdown and being all unreasonably and flamboyantly emotional?

And boy howdy, does Gorgeous Girl know how to chuck a nuclear-grade tantrum. Not so much these days; being 3 and a half, she’s all about the backchat and arguing and “well, what about...”. Sometime I’m really impressed at her logic and problem solving abilities when she’s trying to get what she wants, but most of the time I’m resisting the urge to duct-tape her mouth shut.

Most of the time though, she only really persists when she can sense that I’m wavering about whether or not to say no, I’m doubting myself, or second-guessing whether it’s really a big deal. The minute I show I’m serious and take charge by telling her, “No. Now I’ve said no, and I mean it. When have I ever said no and changed my mind?” she usually gives it up. And there is the secret, one thing I am inordinately smug about is the fact I have never, ever said no to GG and then gone back on it, no matter how big a tantrum she threw, because I knew the minute I did all I was teaching her that no doesn’t mean no, it just means you have to throw a bigger wobbly til you get what you want. I have trust capital now.

It means I have had to drag a screaming child out of many a shopping centre, leave a nearly-finished grocery shop and manhandle a squirming, screeching and kicking alien life force out of the store. It means I have had to stand at a door behind which I had confiscated something fun to play with (like a power saw) and physically hold it shut while a nearly 2yr old GG hung from the handle screaming with more decibels than a jet engine. (I can’t even remember what I put behind that door, but God I remember that tantrum! Curse door handles that don’t lock and freakishly tall toddlers that could reach them!!)

Do you know what though? GG learned pretty quickly that tantrums don’t get you anything except a time out. She’s not bratty, or demanding. She’s learnt that the best way to get a treat is to behave nicely when we’re out, and then at the end of the trip ever so sweetly remind me how good she’s been and do you think she could maybe get a lollipop? I had fallen into the trap of doing this pretty consistently, so she then expected a treat every time we went out. Nowadays, it’s more of a haphazard thing, sometimes she does, sometimes she doesn’t. She threw a couple of wobblies when I changed that up, but nothing dramatic.

So why are so many parents afraid of their children? Why do they jump through hoops and turn themselves inside out, lest their darling progeny chuck a fit and act all unseemly? I think part of it is this whole indulgent parenting movement, you know, where parents seem to be an insipid servant, catering to their indulged child’s every whim, rather than actually raising that child and teaching them important life lessons, like they can’t have everything they want. Think Veruca in Willy Wonka.

I get how hard it is to see your child upset. We’re their parents, we want to make them happy. We also want to avoid the Judgy McJudge-Judge looks you get from random strangers when your little one chucks a tantrum. And of course there are ways to help avoid your kids chucking wobblies when you’re out and about – avoid going out when they’re going to be or already are tired, or hungry, or whatever. Sometimes, though, life does not fit neatly around nap time and you’ve simply got shit you have to do. Even then there are things you can try – bring a favourite toy along, let them ride in a stroller or trolley rather than walk, or give them something that isn’t such a big deal, let them have a ride on those carousel things in the shops, rather than let them have a chocolate or soft drink.

Of course, Whoopi is right though, some days there is no avoiding the tantrum. You can have done every thing “right” and still end up with a melted toddler puddle screaming at your feet or chucking cans off the grocery shelf. This is a terrorist tactic, to see how quickly you’ll fold, and I don’t negotiate with terrorists. I’ve seen parents croon and try to console their children mid-tantrum, I’ve seen them laugh it off and try to jolly them out of it, and I’ve even seen them give in and let them have the thing they wanted, or something else, or an ever better toy. I’ve also seen that none of those things work. The only thing that works is to keep your energy low and calm (if somewhat threatening in my case – hey, that’s just how I roll when I’m tense) and ignore it. The best thing to do is leave immediately, but I get that sometimes you just have to get bills paid, food to eat, etc. I’ve done it. Ride it out. The only big social rule I really believe in is that if your child is throwing a tantrum in a cafe, restaurant or movie... LEAVE!!!! Don’t look round smiling apologetically, don’t laugh it off, just get the hell out, we’re trying to relax and eat here! Come back later when little Timmy is acting human again, okay?

How did I cope with all these lavish displays of emotion? Pretty good, I think. As hard as it is to see your little one upset and crying, part of you realises you are doing it for their own good, in a big-picture kind of sense, and I just kind of grit my teeth and work hard to act like I’m calm, unmoveable, a boulder in a stream, with a river of emotion just washing around me. I am unchanged, although maybe a little worn down at the end.

In which I put on my big girl knickers...

2010-11-13T16:43:00.000+10:00

Confrontation can be... well... confronting for me.

Actually, that's not completely true. Surprisingly, if I get wound up enough, getting really angry and tearing someone a new asshole is pretty easy, I dont't have that thing where you walk away and suddenly think of all the things you wish you'd said, I tend to walk away thinking, "Oh, wow, you made the truckie cry, maybe you should have gone a bit easier". What I find hard is to find that middle ground between being a avenging Fury, and meekly accepting something you're not happy with.

Assertiveness, I believe it's called.

And so today, I am strutting around quite proud of myself, because I have finally put on my big girl knickers and faced an awkward situation, and confronted my hairdresser.

While all my female readers let out a knowing, "Ahhhh...", let me explain for any male readers out there. Hairdressers are like priests, you find yourself confessing secrets and chatting away about very intimate subjects (like, just today; sex, body image, weight loss, miscarriage and celebrity fake tans) and when you find a good one, you will go to extreme measures to stay with them.

I have been bereft of a good hairdresser relationship since I moved from Brisbane ot the Gold Coast, and so was thrilled when I turned up for an appointment today at a new salon. The vibe was welcoming and stylish, with a homespun feel (the salon is a converted house, the flowers were fresh and the CD playing was Megan Washington, i.e. perfect). I was further thrilled when I immediately 'clicked' with my haidresser, B, and we were soon chatting away like old mates.

So, when I left not feeling like I had got my money's worth, I was a little shattered. I have quite dark black hair at the moment, after a short-lived fascination with wanting to look like a Latina bombshell,

Sofia Vergara

and want to start going lighter, as I have been most of my adult life, ending up something like this...

Jane Allsop

Obviously, this will be a bit of a process... "It won't happen overnight" etc. Still, I did think after dropping THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS at the hairdresser, I might see a noticable difference! I know it a massive amount of money, but this was my little reclamation of my 'old self' and my treat to myself, a little luxury and pampering now that I am working and slogging my guts out during the week. Plus, I am starting to feel more like my old self, not the dark, stressed girl of late, so want my outside to reflect that too.

Anyhoo, enough validating. When we had finished at the salon, I was pretty dissapointed to see that, yes, my hair was a bit lighter overall, but not so noticeably so. I had expected, after our discussion in the beginning, that I would see more caramel pieces, rather than just an being a slightly lighter shade overall.

I brought it up at the time, but admittedly in a fairly wishy washy way. I had come to really like B, and I hoped to become a regular of the salon, so I didn't really want to rock the boat too much, or make her think I was mean, or unappreciative. Is it just me or does it seem slightly silly that I am comfortable paying so much money out for something as ultimately trivial as hair, but I can't have a grown-up conversation and say I'm not particularly happy about a service?

Anyway, B assured me that as my hair dried, I would see it actually is a fair bit lighter. I am really happy with the cut she gave me, and my hair feels lovely after the treatement, so I swallow my reservations (hey, maybe that's the real reason we put on weight???), thnak her, pay my staggering bill and leave.

Half an hour later, I feel terrible. I go to my Aunt's house to pick up GG and notice her surprise that I spent 4 hours at the hairdresser and still look essentially the same. I check out my now dry hair in the mirror and yep, I can notice it's a little lighter, but just barely.,

By now I feel awful, regretful, horrified at the amount of money I had spent and hating myself for not speaking up. I really wanted to go back in time, or else go home and eat chocolate and pretend it never happened.

Instead, I slapped myself upside the head and gave myself a stern talking to. "Quixotic, you are a grown woman. You are smart, accomplished and resourceful. Stop acting like an insecure teenager, and get your 33-year old butt back there and tell them you appreciate the effort she made, love the cut, but feel you haven't got value for money, and want either half your money back, or another head of foils for free.".

Feeling absolutely terrified, I front back up to the salon. B sees me and grins, heading toward me with a questioning look.

OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod

I feel 3 inches tall, but the thought of all the things I could have done with $300 dollars keeps me from trilling maniacally "Just forgot a card!" and bolting out the door to safety.

I gather up all my courage and speak... I tell her this is incredibly awkward for me, I love what she's done, but for the amount of money I paid, I would have liked to see a more noticable difference. I smile. I giggle a little bit hysterically (so shoot me) but essentially keep it together.

B is an angel, She stays calm, and friendly, brings her manager over and asks me exactly what I'm unhappy with.

I am dying, plus now I have another person present, but swallow hard and again re-iterate that I love my cut, and am happy with what she's done so far, but would've expected to see more of a difference.

B explains exactly what she did for me, and the manager agrees that yes, that's what she would have done, but also agrees my hair colour doesn't look that different.

I tell them I understand not everyone's hair reacts the same to colouring, but nonetheless, I would like to see more of a difference.

B suggests another head of foils in a few days, with a more 'piece-y' look and some caramel highlights.

I resist the urge to tongue-kiss B.

The manager agrees and I book another appointment, feeling a rush of happiness that I have actually acted like a grown-up, proper big girl and calmly and assertively solved a problem, rather than just slink home and dump a bottle of peroxide through my hair and avoid ever going within a 10km radius of that salon again.

B even thanked me for coming back, because she'd have hated for me to just leave it and be unhappy with her work, now she gets a chance to give me what I want.

REALLY resist the urge to tongue-kiss B.

I felt empowered, magnificent and not a tiny bit proud of myself. I was also IMMENSELY pleased with the great service and professionalism B and her manager showed. They have a brand new regular that's for sure!

The best part of all this? That GG was with me during the whole conversation, and got to see a woman stand up for herself, confront a problem calmly and assertively and get a result, all without being overly dramatic, passive-agressive, abusive or shouty. Win/win all round!

Have a little faith...

2010-11-08T22:28:00.000+10:00

Well, hi there! After another marathon session of blog-abstinence, I thought it high time I wander back on over.

So how's things? Everyone good? Yeah... cool. Oh me? Oh you know, not much, this and that, running round after GG, the usual... oh there is one little thing - I GOT A PERMANENT JOB!!!!!!!

Honestly, the relief is amazing! I feel a sense of security, and hopefulness, now that I can actually plan out a budget and do all those little things, like buy food and electricity.

It's very full on, I get up at 5.30am and rush, rush, rush til I put GG to bed at 7.30/8.00pm. Then I try and get some stuff done around the house (quietly!) before I pass out at a nanna-worthy bedtime. It's not ideal, but it's what we need right now, so I imagine I will stick around til GG starts school in a little over a year.

THUMP!!!!

What was that sound you wonder?? That was me falling out of my fucking chair that my tiny little baby will start school IN A LITTLE OVER A YEAR!!!!!!! The last year of kid-dom feels like it passed in oh, about a week, so it will be no time before I'm covering books in contact and trying not to cry at the school gate.

There's no way I will subject her to before-school care, going to school, after-school care and then maybe an hour or so with Mum before bed (all whilst I'm trying to get dinner, bath her etc.), so we will have to re-visit our situation then, it's just not fair to her, to start this major chater in her life without more support from me.

At least for now we can start paying off some debt and have a decent Christmas.

This really couldn't have come at a better time. I had been trying so hard to stay postive, to trust that everything would work out, but it had gotten to the point where I was starting to question myself. Was I a total idiot for thinking this way? To trust in God or the Universe or Dr Phil that everything would be okay if I had faith and stayed positve, what sort of ludicrous, deluded thinking is that? Shouldn't I be running around shrieking. "The sky is falling, the sky is falling!!!", dissolving into hysterics and hating my life?

Nope, apparently not. Faith is the way to go it seems, it'll just test your resolve til you get there.

A bit of an asshole, Faith is, it seems. Playing with you like that, toying with your emotions.

Gold. Pure Monster Gold...

2010-10-13T15:28:00.000+10:00

Seal of Approval

2010-09-29T21:15:00.000+10:00

A disoriented New Zealand Fur Seal has been having a little holiday on the Gold Coast, hanging out in Tallebudgera Creek...

see here

I can just imagine the poor little blighter, peering over at all the holidaying school kids and soccer-mum paparazzi assembled, thinking to himself...

"What?! I can't have a holiday on the Gold Coast like every other Kiwi??"

Second time's the charm.

2010-09-19T21:36:00.000+10:00

Okay, calm down, calm down everyone, I know you're all excited to hear from me after so long, but let's maintain order, orright? You there, stop screeching... that's better. And you lot - stop letting off those fireworks, you hear? It's just little old me, no need to get so excited... jeesh!!!

Okay, we all good? Back in your seats? Okay then...

So as you might have noticed, I have indeed been absent from this blog for a couple of weeks. Stupid irritating little things have been interrupting me and keeping me away - things like trying to find a job, keeping our house running on a shoestring budget, yada, yada, yada....

You may remember when my last job hit a surprise ending and knocked me for six. One of the upshots of that was telling GG I would be spending the next while hanging out with her and watching her little face absolutely light up as she threw herself into me and gave me such a fierce hug I thought she might burst! Since I had been working full-time, I noticed that she had become quite clingy, always (literally) hanging off me when we were home, and not even wanting to stay over at her cousins house - usually a favourite treat. She had also become quite whiny, but that could also have just been a "Hey, I'm three and this is how we three year olds roll" kinda thing...

So fast forward a few weeks, over 40 job applications, seven new grey hairs and a partridge in a pear tree, I find a job. It's a contract for a few months to cover a girl's maternity leave, though it may turn into something more...

It's also full time.

Yep, after the last job eff-up, and then having to turn down a full time job I was offered because the travel time meant I would have to be dropping GG off in the morning before she'd gone to bed the night before (cold meds may lead to slight exaggerations), I had decided to pursue only part-time jobs. Thing is part-time jobs are like hen's teeth, and there are approximately eleventy billion trillion women all wanting to work part-time.

So necessity over-rides good intentions yet again.

I have just finished my first week, and yeah, yeah the job is fine and all that, but more importantly, so it seems is GG!

Me being me, I had worked myself into a lather over the harm I would be inflicting on my poor, innocent child. Me and my selfish materialistic need to pay the bills would mean she would be flung back into a world of abandonment, clinginess, insecurity and wanting to stay up all night just to have my attention. Okay, okay, so my reservations may not have been entirely unselfish concern for my child.

Instead, GG did what she specialises in doing, she surprised me.

When I told GG that I would be going back to work, she was entirely non-fussed. When I prompted her about how she felt about it, she simply replied that, "Well I will still see you ebrey night, right?". I have been

spending the week on tenterhooks, waiting to some sign of her backsliding and... nothin'... she's fine. She's happy, independent, even at the kindy drop off which she's sometimes a bit teary at, she just charges up to the window that overlooks the car park so she can wave goodbye. She has even planned a sleepover for next week!

Maybe those horrible weeks of the first job were just her getting adjusted? Maybe the fact I finish earlier and am picking her up by 5pm and we get that little extra time together makes the difference? Either way, life is good right now and I refuse to sit around looking over my shoulder waiting for "something bad" to happen like I have been lately whenever life is good. I'm just gonna enjoy it. And maybe send some wishes out to the Universe that the girl I'm replacing only wants to come back part-time and we can job share.

Not too much to ask, is it?

Priceless...

2010-08-29T20:17:00.000+10:00

Last night, GG and Hubby stay up watching a movie, Mummy goes to bed as Mummy has ~~stupid freaking~~ 4am start.

The following has been relayed to me by a stupified and chastened husband.

About halfway through the movie, GG has crashed out and is managing to take up all 6 feet of the couch, despite only being 4 foot tall.

Hubby decides he would like to partake of ~~contraband~~ ice cream and chocolate buttons. Hubby avails himself, first making sure GG is asleep by taking GG by the wrists and re-enacting the YMCA dance.

**Note, Hubby will now be supervised at all times, lest bad 80's dances catch on.**

***Except of course the Nutbush - that rocks***

The second hubby sits down, GG's eyes pop open and she asks, "Daddy, whatcha got?"

"Ice-cream, Boo - d'ya want some?"

Thoughtful pause...

"No - but Daddy, you have to ask before you get a treat."

"Do I? Ask who?"

"Mummy".

Toddler brainwashing for the win.

How do you explain?

2010-08-28T08:54:00.000+10:00

Long time readers might remember I have an 11 year old cousin, whom on this blog I call Jewel, who has special needs. She's on the autism spectrum basically, with a diagnosis of speech dyspraxia and some muscle tone / motor function problems thrown in as well.

GG and Jewel get on famously, GG being fascinated with older kids, especially one so into music and dancing as Jewel, and I sometimes think Jewel loves GG because she doesn't have any expectations to live up to with her, plus her behaviour is often a lot better around GG, almost like she is enjoying the fact there is someone who she can be better at at different things.

The girls see each other probably a few times a week, and GG often stays over at Jewels house, where they have a great time.

Jewel asks, probably every time I see her, if she can stay at my house one night too. To date, she has only stayed a handful of times with me. Not because I don't want to have her, but because at the last minute, her anxiety gets the better of her, and she doesn't want to go.

This is rough on GG. She gets excited at the thought of having Jewel stay at our place, and quite upset when it then doesn't come to pass. It's not Jewel's fault of course, and I don't want to drag her when she clearly is upset at the prospect, although I wonder if she would have a bit of a meltdown and then be fine, if we really pushed the issue. I suspect I'm falling into the trap of thinking of her like a "normal" toddler, who doesn't want to do something, which would be a mistake. I can't pretend to know how Jewel's mind works, even her own Mum doesn't. I once said to her when we were considering this approach, "You know her better than me". To which she replied, "Well no, I don't really know her at all". I was struck with sadness at that sentence, but didn't really know what to say in reply.

Yesterday, we had another go at having Jewel come stay. Last time, speaking as if it was simply a done deal, "okay it's time to go" throwing her stuff in the car and going seemed to work. She had about a day knowing about it, which gave her enough notice that it was going to happen, but not enough time to work up a lot of anxiety about it. Well, it must've been a fluke last time, because this time it didn't work at all.

Jewel became very upset at the thought of going, yet every time we said "Okay, you don't have to then", she would immediately say she now wanted to. I don't know if she was trying to please us, saying what she thought she wanted us to hear, but then getting scared and saying no, or whether (and this is what my gut tells me), part of her does want to come stay and play with her friend, but her anxiety makes her pull out at the last minute.

Through out all this, GG had been cajoling Jewel to come with her, "Yeah, c'moooooon" and getting visibly excited that Jewel might be coming to stay. These days I prep her that it's only a maybe, Jewel might not come, etc., etc., and she is pretty good, she no longer gets too upset if it doesn't work out.

As we were leaving from Jewel's yesterday, GG seemed fine, until a few minutes after we left, her bottom lip started wobbling and she asked in a plantive voice, "Why Jewel no come stay?"

"Well, you remember that sometimes Jewel gets a bit scared of not staying in her own place, and decides not to come. You can still see her on the weekend and have a play."

"Yeah, but why she get scared? I no get scared staying over."

And there's the thing, how do you explain something as multi-faceted and delicate as autism and mental health to someone who is only 3?

I gave it a try, anyway...

"Well, Jewel's brain doesn't work like yours and mine..."

"What a brain?"

"Umm, it's what you think with, in your head, and it's how you learn things. So Jewel doesn't think and learn quite like we do, and some things that don't worry us, upset her quite a bit, like staying over. So we have to be a bit patient with Jewel, because she can't help it."

"Something wrong with her brain?"

Of course the easy answer here would be "Yes", but I don't want GG thinking there is something 'wrong' with her friend and cousin, because really, I don't like that connotation, and she won't get the subleties involved.

Instead, I go with, "No, there's nothing 'wrong' with her, she's just different. It doesn't mean her brain is worse, or better, than ours, just different. Like your dollies, Raya and Prinny, one is cloth, and one is plastic, but you love them both, even though they are different, right?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Well, there you go, Jewel is just different."

"Whycome she different?"

"Well, that's just the way God made her."

"Oh, God like different dollies too!!"

Sometimes, I really feel very small and humble when speaking to my daughter....

You know what?? I don't care about the boat people...

2010-08-12T21:12:00.000+10:00

Or more to the point, I refuse to submit to the scare campaign Gillard and Abbott are trying to turn this issue into during their election campaigns.

The way they carry on, you would think we were being inundated by a maruading hoard of "illegals", constantly streaming over our coastline.

It's rubbish, of course.

The human element has been completely lost on this issue, we are encouraged to think of these poor souls not as fellow humans beings; men, women and children fleeing unimaginable horror, taking a chance on a new life in what must seem like Paradise to them, but as a threat. A threat to what exactly is never made clear, but it's always easy to play on people's basic fear of the unknown and xenophobia. Plus there is always the vague allusion that every 'boat person' is a terrorist. The reality is that due to having one of the most stringent check procedures in the world, this is actually the most risky way for a terrorist to enter our country.

Let me be clear. When I say I don't care about the boat people, what I mean is I don't care about stopping them. Let them come. When I think about the conditions these tragic souls have come from, the pain, fear and horror they have seen, I want to get down on my knees and thank God I was born in 'the lucky country'.

The facts are, Australia accepts one of the lowest amounts of refugees and asylum seekers per capita in the developed world. In the last 34 years (1st January 1976 - 30th April 2010), Australia has received a total of 23,024 people. In 2008, Australia received 2,496 refugees onshore, and allows only 13,750 spaces in it's combined offshore refugee programs (run in conjunction with the UNHRC). In 2009, Australia received 6,170 asylum applications, just 1.6% of the applications received across 44 developed nations.

As reported in The Australian's article, "Whose afraid of 4,500 boat people?", Australians shouldn't be afraid of refugees coming here, because with our geographic location, the numbers will always be small in relation to those of the rest of the world.

Graph from Chas Liccardello's tweet.
Chas is of The Chaser fame, and can currently be seen
on the political commentary/sketch show Yes We Canberra

To put it in simple terms, at the current arrival rate, it would take 20 years to fill an MCG crowd with refugees.

And I can't believe how so many of the myths surrounding asylum seekers are allowed to persist.

Firstly, that they are illegal. Wrong. It is not illegal to turn up to a country and ask for asylum. It is not illegal to turn up without documentation and passports etc. As the United Nations Refugee Convention of 1951 explains, many of these people have no means of obtaining these, so how on Earth can we expect them to arrive like a tourist? These people are not queue jumpers - there is no queue! These people are poor, desperate and fleeing war, persecution and horrendous living conditions. I don't know about you, but if it were me, and my children, I would do whatever it took to get out, I'd hijack a damn plane myself, let alone fly here without a passport, or take a risky journey on a leaky boat made out of mainly rusty tin and duct tape.

And I am so sick of the phrase 'boat people'. For a start, over 90% of Australia's refugees arrive by plane. Of these arriving by plane, about half are granted refugee status. Of the remaining 10% who do arrive by boat, 85-98% are given refugee status. So it would seem that 'turning back the boats' would be sending true refugees back to their deaths Mr Abbott. Great plan.

As for a lot of the other myths out there about refugees, check out this Mythbuster fact sheet from the Asylum Seeker Resource Centre.

So enough with the scare tactics and talk about 'turning back the boats'. Why don't you try running the country effectively, and give this magnificent country a chance to provide a new home and new life to some of those who most desperately need it?

Family First, closely followed by Evil...

2010-08-10T08:52:00.004+10:00

If you are voting in the Australian election this August, you may be aware of the Family First Party, their current representative in the Senate, Steven Fielding. You remember him, he's the guy that opposed paid parental leave because, and I quote, "Drug addicts and welfare cheats can go out there and get themselves pregnant and then after 20 weeks have an abortion and still pocket the Government's cash".

Umm, Senator, were you perhaps asleep during the bit where they explained that you are eligible for this paid leave only after birth? A stillborn birth may still eligible, but a late-term miscarriage, let alone a termination, would not be eligible. No? Maybe you were busy texting your mate Wendy Francis. Which is quite an acheivement actually, given that you both seem to live in the 1950's.

You may not be aware of the current Queensland candidate for the Senate, Wendy Francis. Nor was I. Until a story on News.com.au and also Mamamia ran yesterday. Seems Wendy decided to share her view on same-sex couples having children via Twitter:

Picture from the Mamamia story

When the majority of Australians (including the "mainstream Australians" who Wendy claims she is representing) reacted with (appropriate) outrage, Wendy took the time-honoured, classy tactic of ... blaming someone else. Yes, apparently "someone in her office used her Twitter account to share her views on same-sex parenting". The tweets have now also been deleted.

And when David Barrow, the Family First candidate from La trobe, Victoria, posted the following comment on the Mamamia website stating:

"My understanding of what a couple means, and my personal interpretation of Family First policy on this or what it ought to be, is that a family couple is a committed co-dependent relationship between two adults in its widest sense.

At Family First, we say that a family couple is a committed relationship between a man and a woman: Adam and Eve.

And it is also Adam and Steve — gay and lesbian couples — and Eve with Eve (even Eve with Eve if you will). So when it comes to families, Family First is a “broad church” (in the modern secular sense of that term): heterosexual, gay and lesbian couples, as well as bi, trans, and intersex.”

Within hours he had been disendorsed by the Family First party.

Wendy also appeared on breakfast television last Monday, in a debate on Sunrise (I missed this because I would rather open a vein than watch Mel and Kochy chortle away, lost in their own self-congratulatory orgy). The debate was against Fiona Patten, of the Australian Sex Party, a stupidly named party apparently with it's beginnings in the adult sex industry that came about in order to fight proposed internet censorship laws, which, of course, Family First is all for. During this debate (clip below), Wendy further elaborated on her stance, and demonstated at the end her ability to neatly give a non-answer to a direct question:

If you don't want to throw something by now at her constant interuption whenever Fiona speaks, you're doing way better than me, consiering that vapid twit Mel was doing about as much moderating as a ball of wool does between two cats.

Meanwhile, I think I like Fiona Patten. If she ran as an independent and lost the Sex Party thing, she'd be a real contender.

So when it comes to filing in the Senate voting form, yes, the big fuck-off complicated white one, please be aware that if you "vote above the line", you may unwittingly be giving the Family First party more preferences than you would like. If you have no idea what "voting above the line" means, check out Julie Cowdroy's awesome cheat sheet on the Mamamia website here. I learned more in the 5 minutes it took to read this than I ever did in Social Studies at high school. There are also a whole bunch of excellent cheat sheets on hot button issues and other political topics there too.

Never has there been a better reason for separation between Church and state.

Seems like Stephen, Wendy, and their homophobic and just plain hate-filled party only care about putting familes first if you fit their bigoted, far-right conservative Christian, extremely narrow definition of a "family".

Proud to be a Crackpot!

2010-08-07T08:24:00.002+10:00

I don't usually like to share emails, I prefer to come up with my own ~~nonsense~~ ~~drivel~~ words, but this one is just lovely....

An elderly Chinese woman had two large pots,each hung on the ends of a pole which she carried across her neck. One of the pots had a crack in it while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water. At the end of the long walk from the stream to the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.

For a full two years this went on daily, with the woman bringing home only one and a half pots of water. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its complishments. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it could only do half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the woman one day by the stream. "I am ashamed of myself, because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your house."

The old woman smiled, "Did you notice that there are flowers on your side of the path, but not on the other pot's side?" "That's because I have always known about your flaw, so I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back, you water them."

"For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table. Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house."

Each of us has our own unique flaw. But it's the cracks and flaws we each have that make our lives together so very interesting and rewarding.

You've just got to take each person for what they are and look for the good in them.

Each of us has our own journey to walk. And its the cracks and flaws in that journey that lets in enough light for us to take the next step.

Believe in yourself and follow your own path.

So, to all of my crackpot friends, have a great weekend and remember to smell the flowers on your side of the path.

Wordless Wednesday - only with lots of words...

2010-08-04T13:08:00.007+10:00

God, I love where I live...

See that beach? It's gorgeous, it's 5 minutes from my house and it makes it so easy to stay grateful and focus on being happy, no matter what stressful situation I'm in (which is a lot at the moment, still no work, money very tight, bills getting scary, had to give up the job in Brisbane as I would've had to be waking GG up at 5.30am, then waking up Grandma to leave her with her!!).
Thing is though, on the Gold Coast, this beach is only good for...

Yep, it's only good enough to be a dog beach, it's not even the best we have to offer. But it's my favourite. It's not tacky and showy, like some people think the Gold Coast is. There's no posers, walking back and forth til you notice them, no drunk backpackers, no grim faced runners. Just ordinary people, their dogs, and their smiling faces.

And a Labrador who's learned to bodysurf...

Look close; he's there, just behind the wave.

Paddle, paddle, paddle

Success!!

Ch-ch-ch-changes....

2010-07-31T14:23:00.006+10:00

Here's the thing, I don't think I've ever had a job I really loved. I've had jobs I really enjoyed, and felt good about, but nothing I've ever been truly passionate about.

I can enjoy aspects of it, and I can make the best of whatever I am doing, but there's not a lot to love about being an admin pleb. I sort of fell into doing secretarial work after a checkered job history that involved retail and hospitality as a teenager, a stint in my 20's where I considered myself employed by the Government to party and get a bitchin' tan, then the agency I went to to help me find a job employed me as their receptionist, I moved up through the ranks into Accounts Clerk, PA, and then swapped over into consulting myself.

I worked as a Recruitment Consultant for about 3 years, for about 4 different companies (no, that's not unusual in recruitment). Then I got made redundant and as no-one was hiring in Recruitment, took a temp maternity leave contract that turned out to be last job I really enjoyed.

It was as State Sales Secretary for a pharmaceutical company. I worked for a great bunch of people who appreciated what I did for them, and gave me the autonomy to just get it done.

From there I worked as an Executive PA in a few different roles, and then I have been doing part-time admin since having my Gorgeous Gal. Recently, I have been doing full time temp work to help with our finances.

I have always regetting not going to University after I finished high school. At the time, I was so over schooling and desperate for 'freedom', plus I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, so I just binned the idea and moved in with my boyfriend (I know, I know, quit groaning...)

I have always felt less than adequate about that. I know I am intelligent, capable and hard-working, but really feel inferior when I am around people who are 'educated'. Even when it's apparent I'm probably just as smart as them.

So I have been thinking a lot lately about what I want to be when I grow up (no, you don't need to remind me how old I am). This has been a bit of a tricky subject for years, as there have been so many things that have interested me over time: law, journalism, psychology, policing, teaching, but have lost their sheen the more I thought about it: defending crimals, harassing people, being shot at, dealing with other people's bratty kids all day. Not sure which is worse out of those last two.

You know how often in life, the Universe will keep throwing things at you until you finally sit up and notice? I have been having that a lot lately, all around career fulfillment and seeking menaing by what I do.

It has lead me to a conclusion I didn't expect.

Given that's it probably to late to become an international secret agent, I have been spending the last few months thinking about what it is I really want from a job. I don't need a job to define me, and my family is still the most important thing to me by a mile, but I do feel like I need something more now. So here's what I've come up with, what really matters:

I want to feel like what I do makes a difference in the world. I want to make a meaningful contribution.

I want to work closely with people, and feel like I have helped them, not just with little things, but at important moments in their life.

I want what I do to give me flexibility to enjoy my family and my life.

I kind of want my job to be a 'real' job. This is a hard one to define, but a job that needs a qualification. One that as soon as you say what you do, people know what that is and that you went and got an education to do it.

Once I had defined these things in my head, the answer kept being shown to me, by the friends I kept thinking about, dreams, bumper stickers I would notice, t.v. shows, even the articles I would randomly flick to in magazines.

Nursing.

The more I think about it, the more passionate and excited I become.

I ran into a friend I haven't seen in ages yesterday, and she is now also studing nursing. We got talking and she was full of information. I had assumed that I would need to keep working admin roles until I could not only afford to take time off to study, but to afford the tuition. I have since learned that as early as your second semester, you can work in Assistant in Nursing roles, and that I might be eligible to have my fees fully deferred, like a student loan. That hadn't even occured to me.

So I am off to Griffith Uni's Open Day next Sunday, and ready to start changing my life! Maybe this will be the kick off we need to bring about positive change in the rest of our life, we seem to have been stuck in Groundhog Day lately.

And you know what else is funny? This fits in perfectly with another little dream I have. When GG is a teenager, I want to take her and go do a 'volunteering holiday'. This is where you travel to a developing part of the world, and volunteer your time and services; you might help build a school in Africa, work in a medical clinic in Peru or teach English in a Cambodian orphanage. Can you imagine how valuable it would feel to immunise babies in a village in a third world country?

So I have been doing a lot of research, and speaking to a lot of people, trying to find out as much as I can, and here's what I'd like. I know a few of my readers are or have been nurses, and I'd love to hear what you love and don't love about your job. Actually, whoever you are and whatever you do, I'd love to hear what you love or hate about it.

The Universe's Plaything

2010-07-30T20:54:00.004+10:00

It seems once more I find myself caught in a plot twist in the cosmic sit-com I'm sure my life actually is.

The contract I had with Centrelink that I had to guarantee I would be available for to see out the entirety of? Til October? Gone.

Yep, on Wednesday we were all (20 odd temps in 2 teams) called into a meeting and told that due to operational requirements we would all no longer be required as of close of business the next day.

Talk about stunned.

Some people got upset. A few cried. Some people got angry. A few people walked out.

Me? I went and got back on the phones. I needed the money.

By the time I got home Hubby had gotten over being angry on my behalf and was actually quite Zen about the whole thing. Sure, financially we were screwed, but hey, as a family we weren't coping so well with me working full time, so maybe this was for the best. Hubby has a tendency to focus on the negatives of a situation, so you can imagine how proud of him I was, and how supported I felt. You can also probably imagine the reward it got him. (Hey, we were too stressed out to sleep anyway...)

So I spent Thursday night doing the job search hokey-pokey and made plans to spend today with GG, catching up with some friends and their kids I haven't seen for ages. We decided to focus on part-time roles, as that's really is what's best for our family. I talked myself back into a state of positivity and convinced myself this was all for the best, something would work out.

Then, this morning I got a call from the agency that placed me at Centrelink offering me a 4 week contract. Cue immediate relief.

A 4 week contract a mere 2 hours travel away. Would take 2 hours by train or even if I drove. That's 2 hours each way. Cue terror.

Thing is, I can't afford (literally) to be picky. I need to be working right now. And there are just no jobs available on the Coast. Even though it means catching the train at 6.30 in the morning and not getting home til 7pm. Sigh. I took the job.

Then I panicked at 5 minutes to 5.00pm and nearly pulled out. Then I convinced myself it'd be okay. Then I panicked again and convinced myself GG would hate it, I was a horrible Mum. Then I went a little nuts. Then I called my husband.

He talked me down off my little ledge, reminded me that we had already talked this through, re-assured me he would re-arrange his days so that he could drop GG off on her kindy days as well as pick her up.

In the end, we decided that I would do it for a week. The agency rep is doing a site visit Thursday, and if I'm finding it too much, I will let her know then, so she has 2 days to find my replacement. That seems fair. I can do one week at least, even if it is Hell on Earth, I can do one crappy week for the good of my family.

So I enjoyed every minute of my day with GG today, and will continue to over the weekend. This afternoon, while she rode her bike at the park with me walking beside her, I bought up the topic:

"GG, you know how Mummy has been working a lot the last few weeks?"

"Uh-huh. Hey! Look! A puppy!"

"Yeah, lots of puppies here, it's a dog park remember? He's a cutie isn't he?"

"Yep. Cute."

"Yeah, anyway, so you know how Mummy has been going to work?"

"Uh-huh. Oh! Look! Another puppy!!"

I'm gunna fast forward a little here...

"Do you miss Mummy when she goes to work?"

"Yeah, sometimes."

"Yeah, I miss you sometimes too. Well, for the next few weeks, I'm going to be working even more, but only for a very little while. You'll still see me every night, and of course weekends, but you might have dinner at Grandmas before Mummy gets you sometimes."

"Oh."

"But remember, it'll only be for a little while. And we'll still see each other every night."

"Oh. I still see you ebry night?"

"Yep, every night. And don't forget the weekends. And, after that little while, Mummy is going to take a whole week off, and we'll do heaps of stuff together! What do you think?"

GG turned to look at me, her little face incredibly thoughtful, and unless I'm deluding myself, very wise.

"Oh-tay. Oh look!!! A puppy!!!"

Not really the message we're looking for, folks.

2010-07-29T08:06:00.004+10:00

So we're all aware that Tony Abbott has trouble winning women voters over, yes?

So are the Today Show apparently. During their show this morning, they decided to go out into the world and interview women on their opinion of Abbott. Great idea.

What was not a great idea however, was their choice of venue. A hairdressers salon.

Really?! How patronising! Like that's the only place women go during the day... once they've finished all the housework of course.

How about go to a hospital, and interview the female Doctors, nurses and staff there. I'm sure they'd have great opinions, given Abbott's previous role as Minister for Health. For that matter, ask the patients, still dealing with the problems he left behind.

Or what about go into the business district, and interview women on their lunch break. Oh that's right, they're too busy grabbing 10 minutes to eat something before rushing back to work so they can earn less than their male counterparts before rushing home to get dinner and run the kids to basketball practice.

The lighter side...

2010-07-27T20:35:00.003+10:00

Working at Centrelink Call Centre is many things. One thing I didn't expect it to be was funny.

I'm actually quite enjoying it - mostly the people are pleasant to deal with, and I do actually feel like I am able to connect with and help people. Even if I can't do what they want, I can advise them of what do do next etc., where to go to get more help, things like that.

I'm also enjoying the company of people I work with, it's quite a good mix and we all catch up on our breaks and share info and tips, things of a valuable workplace nature.

We also like to laugh at people.

We share stories of nice people, angry people, people we've caught out trying to dupe the system, and just plain funny stuff. We don't use their names obviously, and it's not done in a mean way, it's just a way to spice up our day, which can get pretty monotonous.

Some of the better stories that I've come across, either by speaking to the caller directly or from these 'team meetings', I've decided to share for your enjoyment.

Like the girl today who rang to claim an advance. She was receiving a benefit for people who are looking for work, and was receiving the rate of a single person living in a hostel. After checking through all her details with her, during which she again confirmed she was still at that address, I processed the advance. She was so happy to have made it through the whole process, she then went on to tell me how much it will help her, given that she's pregnant and that she and her boyfriend want to set up the spare room for the baby. To listen to her backpedal and try to stick to her original story when I questioned what hostel had built-in boyfriends and spare rooms available, and what sort of work was she looking for now that she was pregnant, was almost too funny. Almost.

Then there was they guy who I told would be receiving a call "within two working days". His reply? "Yeah, but I'm not working, hey?"

Then there was the guy who rang up the day he was released from prison, and got stroppy when told it would take up to a week to get him on benefits. When he snapped at me, "I just got outta jail, I got no money, what am I s'posed to do?", it took all I had not to snap back, "How 'bout not committing a fucking crime!"

But my absolute favourite?

Watching my colleague try and keep a straight face as she collected a caller's details. Surname? Taylor. First Name? Jenny. Go on... say it out loud...

Are you a Rocker or a Roller?

2010-07-22T19:48:00.003+10:00

There are a million different "types" of people and personalities out there (or 16 if you ask Myers-Briggs) but for me, they all boil down to two main aspects. When faced with a challenge, or something new, people either react positively, or negatively.

Some people react like a rock, refusing to budge in their ways and their thinking, staying obstinately in one place and letting life bash away at them until they are eroded away.

Others prefer to roll with it; they go with life's flow and adapt to changing situations.

There are some things that are worth refusing to budge on of course; you shouldn't compromise or change your core principles just because they are hard to stick to. But in my experience, Rockers tend to view everything negatively, fearfully and with suspicion.

Rollers tend to be more positive in general, sometimes naively so, but view the world with enthusiasm and relish new things.

I seem to have come upon a lot of Rockers lately, and find myself very drained by them. I have quite a bit on my plate at the moment, and don't have the energy to expend on fighting off their bad ju-ju. It has gotten to me a little of late, and I've fallen in the trap of thinking negatively, expecting the worst.

I have learnt through bitter experience how poisionous negativity can be; how it can lead to depression, anger and hopelessness. So I am not going to let it take hold. I am going to continue to enjoying the work I'm doing, it's not all beer and skittles, but I do feel like I am helping people, and enjoying the human aspect of it. I refuse to be sucked into bitching and moaning about things. As Alice Grist writes via her post on Sharnanigans, life could be a lot worse, I could be buried in sand up to my neck, being stoned to death.

I'm not going to moan about how I miss time with GG, instead, I am going to be grateful I have a lovely, healthy, clever, happy and adaptable child to snuggle up with and breathe in her delicious smell. I'm going to be appreciative of my wonderful husband, who works so hard at two jobs and look forward to the time very soon we can spend more time together, proud of how hard we have worked for our family.

Can I just say...

2010-07-18T07:03:00.003+10:00

how very chuffed I am that you guys are still with me!!

No-one has dropped off my followers list, even with my abysmal posting record of late. Thanks so much everyone for sticking with me, and I will have some stuff for you later today (hopefully, depends on family co-operations!!!). In the meantime, have a cute Mum (or Mom, depending on where you live) song . Enjoy...

Oh! Also, the other day I was contacted by a woman setting up a website for Gold Coasters, and she asked me to be a regular contributor!! Yay me! Might be a big ask, considering I haven't even managed to put up a blog post in the last two weeks, but I love a challenge! Stay tuned for details...

Workin' 9 to 5... and then some!

2010-07-08T19:54:00.005+10:00

Oh man! This week has been FULL ON!!

I started my full time job on Monday, which will be in a call centre for a Government department, and the training has been... umm, intense. We are not only receiving training in the computer system, but the appropriate programs, benefits, eligibility, rates, thresholds and legislation that apply. Plus, I've never worked in a call centre before, so I am getting my head around the computerised phone systems, workflows, scripts etc. My brain is f.r.i.e.d. Plus I am pretty daunted by the fact that tomorrow afternoon I will be finished training and out there on the phones! Eeek! People, calling, and expecting someone who knows the answers!

I'd love to tell some funny and entertaining stories about the people in my training group and the stories we have been told as dire warnings about why not to do a certain thing, but to be honest, I am so tired and have so much still to do, it's all I can do to just check in with you guys. I have some stuff planned for the weekend though, hang in there!

I don't know how Mums work full time without help, I really don't. GG goes to kindy twice a week, and my Mum has risen graciously to the occasion and looked after her the other three days. As of next week, my Aunt will look after her Tuesdays. Without them, and their valuable help, not only would it hardly be worth me working after the cost of child care, I don't think I would like GG in kindy for a full five days; I feel much better about her getting one-on-one, loving attention from a family member she knows and loves, plus who knows and respects how I raise her.

My husband works a full time day job with big hours, plus a night job two nights a week and Saturdays, so I don't ask him to help out at home at all, though he likes to give GG her bath to help me out, and of course he can play with her while I'm cleaning up after dinner etc., which makes life easier.

Of course, I am still having to cook dinners (except for when Mum gives it to me like tonight, thanks Mum!!), do dishes, laundry (and of course it's rained all week), ironing, prepare lunches and make sure the poor dog, who has been cooped up inside all day because it's been raining, gets walked and has a chance to run in the park. At the moment, I drive straight home from work, pick up the dog, drive him to the park, let him have a quick ten minute run around while I review my training from the day, get back in the car, go pick up GG, come home, spend some time re-connecting with GG, then get her settled and off to bed (easier said than done, for the last few months we've been back to letting her fall asleep on the couch), then try and get some housework done.

Aside from all this, I have been dealing with helping GG deal with now having a Mum who works full time. She has done really well actually, I explained to her earlier on Monday that as well as going to kindy and playing with her friends like normal, for the next little while, her Grandma and Aunty were going to be looking after her a lot more than usual, but we would still be having dinner together all the time like usual, and have time to play in the evening. She took that in pretty well, though this morning when she woke up to find me getting ready for work, she did ask, with a sad little face, "Mummy, are you going to work again today?"

I replied that yes, I was, but Grandma was going to take her to coffee this morning (we usually attended this regular Thursday morning coffee group of Mum's friends together) and then she would get to go to the shops. Then I reminded her that it was only a couple of days til the weekend, and distracted her by getting her to think up some fun things for us to do together then.

This worked reasonably well, but didn't stop me feeling guilty about spending so muhc time away from GG. She's a pretty obliging kid, but she's definitely a Mummy's girl, and I hope she continues to deal so well with me being away, and doesn't get upset when she realises it will be this way fro quite a while (4 months). I feel guilty giving GG this extra thing to deal with, but I must admit I feel so much relief that I will be earning really good money for a while, which will let us catch up financially and is desperately needed.

Geez, I hope this gets easier!!

For your viewing pleasure...

2010-07-02T20:42:00.003+10:00

Sometimes I am quite sure my life is some sort of cosmic sit-com, a la The Truman Show, where I reel from one crisis to another, all for the entertainment of some faceless, feckless deity who's sitting there mindlessly eating Pringles and texting their mates.

There's no other explanation really.

Remember this post, where I was getting all panicky and panty-twisty (thanks Gucci) about returning to full time work? Sure you do. I worked myself up into a total state, wracked with guilt over leaving Hannah, twisted with self-doubt as to whether I was even capable of the job.

Slowly, I came around, got down off my little ledge, convinced myself that it would be fine. No Bad Things would happen. I wasn't a bad, neglectful Mum abandoning her daughter; she would be in loving family care, except for her normal kindy days, I would be showing her that women can be mothers and have jobs outside the home, and I would be putting food on the table. We would all be fine and certainly, the bank balance would be a lot healthier.

Then, the Government department I was going to work for scrapped the project I would have been part of. Job gone.

I was flung back into a despair so angsty Edward Cullen would've eaten his left arm to be with me. I felt like a failure yet again for not being able to contribute financially to our desperately lean household. I felt desperate, scared and kind of pissed off. How can it be this hard for an intelligent, capable and willing woman to find a bloody job!?!?!

Then, there was probably an ad break.

Next, like a little ray of hope, I was asked to come for an interview next Monday for a part-time job I had applied for. Awesome!!! Now, your sit-com heroine has learnt her lesson though, people; I remained calm, I did not pin all my hopes and expectations on this interview. I did not take it as a forgone conclusion that once they had met me they would ask, nay beg me, to join their team. I played it cool, but secretly, was really, really hoping it would pan out, as the job is practically perfect for me.

I did however convince myself that it was all a sign, the Universe telling me that I wasn't meant to be working full-time, especially not so far away from home, and that it must mean there was something even better out there, just around the corner.

The more I thought about it, the more I came to the conclusion that I would stick to the search for a part-time job, it was only responsible after all, to be present more for my daughter's sake.

Just before the credits roll however, we need to have a twist. My trusty employment agency guy, who I had forgiven for the scrapped job dealy, rang and asked would I like to be put forward for another contract role he has just been given, this time as a customer service officer for Centrelink and Family Assistance (welfare office for my non-Oz homies). It did cross my mind that perhaps that's a bit like working in the unicorn section of a pet store, but hey, a job's a job! I'm actually a bit of a customer service nut, and thought maybe I could be a shining beacon of change for a jaded organisation, revolutionising the entire system. Humble I'm not.

Of course, this role would be full-time, but not as far from home, located only about 20 minutes away (in Bogan Headquarters, but I'm hoping this will just mean more blog fodder!!). I now needed to re-evaluate - did I want to stick with the program of looking for part-time work, or chase the prospect of a real, live job? Again I gnashed, worried, umm-ed and aw-ed, and decided to ask to be put forward. I am simply not in the position to not try my damndest to get any job going.

So he emailed me some testing and aptitude stuff, I did it at the kitchen table after I'd scraped off the dried up Play-Do and sculled a coffee for confidence.

And today, I was offered the contract! Full-time until October, possibility of being hired on by the Department if I am a go-getterer type, and full training provided at the outset.

Of course, my first day of work co-incides with the day of my interview for the part-time role, doesn't it? Of course it does!!!! Of course it bloody does!!!!

I tried sussing out whether I would be able to start the next day, or have the afternoon off (I used a Doctors appointment as a reason), but to no avail. I rang the company I had an interview with to ask if I could re-schedule. Left a voicemail message for the HR chick with no reply so far.

Gah!!!!!! Could someone give me next weeks script please, so I can at least be prepared?

Slackness, thy name is Quixotic

2010-06-29T14:08:00.000+10:00

So about a million years ago, Soy Mami y Mas awarded me the Versatile Blogger Award.

There. Innit pretty? I'm really still thrilled to get these little awards, even though *polishes nails on her lapel* I've gotten quite a few by now. And Versatile certainly sums up my schizophrenic subject matter.

I have enjoyed Connie's blog for quite a while now, and after wondering for ages what the title meant, and thanks to Google Translator, was very pleased to find out it means "I am Mum and more". This sums her up very well, she writes beautifully about her miraculous blessing of a daughter, as well as some really deep stuff.

Now, the rules that are bestowed along with this blog say I have to tell you seven things about myself, but honestly, there's not a lot I haven't covered before. Which is why, lucky reader, I have decided to take up Tulpen's tag on her blog, Bad Words. This chick is seriously cool, hilarious and refuses to let raising two kids, one with special needs, make her grow up. She recently tagged me to answer eight questions of her own making, so you are getting real value for money here people!

1: Desert island time: What kind of chips do you bring?
You read my mind. I have been totally craving Pringles chips (original flavour, sour cream at a pinch) lately, and have been known to destroy a whole tube in one episode of House.

2: Speaking of chips. Double dip: Yes or No? Come on, nobody is watching.
At home, absolutely! Out, only when my margarita intake has surpassed my social conditioning.

3: You can only have ONE; your computer or your TV?
Duh, the computer, cause I can watch TV on it anyway.

4: Cheesecake: Proof that God exists and wants you to be happy, and fat. Yes or no?
Hmm. Proof that God exists and wants me to be happy, and proof that the devil will always punish happiness!

5: Farts are always funny. Yes or no?
Sometimes funnny, sometimes a Career Limiting Move. Depends on your boss. No, I don't want to elaborate.

6: Got kids? Watch Disney or Nick? What's your favorite? Don't got kids? You're watching way better TV than I am. You suck.
Ah yes, kid's shows. The only thing I seem to get to watch regularly these days. I am quite partial to Jane and the Dragon, and the old favourites Sesame St and Play School. My 3 year old Gorgeous Gal's favourite show? Masterchef.

7: Glee?
Yes please. Why couldn't my school have had show choir? Oh right, it probably did, but I was too busy being a bad girl and smoking and kissing boys behind the bike sheds.

I wish more of life was narrated by a nifty song choice and my friends spontaneously bursting into choreographed back up dancing. Not that that stops me bursting into song on a regular basis, it'd just be nice if people stopped looking at me so strangely when I did.

8: Really embarassing guilty pleasure. I'll show you mine if you show me yours. And mine is pretty embarassing.
You mean other than the fact I eat a whole tube of chips, douple dip them, once farted in front of my boss and burst in song at random intervals? hmmm...

Oh! I got one. I totally love to watch the TV show Wife Swap. The U.S. version. It's hideous, trashy, horrible, horrible T.V. and I love it!!! If you don't know what I am talking about you haven't lived! They take two familes, diametrically opposed in their lifestyle and beliefs, then make the women live in each others homes for two weeks. Just sit back and watch the familes implode! I call it Train Wreck T.V., I know it's awful, and I shouldn't look, but I am morbidly curious and can't look away.

So there you go folks, more useless random triva about me.

Move over Rachel Zoe...

2010-06-28T21:47:00.003+10:00

What does one wear to a family birthday dinner at the local Sizzlers family restaurant?

A pink fairy princess outfit of course.

And how does one accessorise such an outfit?

With pink suede and sequin cowboot boots, naturally!

P.S. The chihuahua in a handbag is so like, last year. Bored Labradors are the new black!

Take that Beyonce!

2010-06-28T13:10:00.003+10:00

I don't usually like those posts where all they show is a video clip, but this one demands to be seen, deserves to be seen, and needs no more words....

Anita is a former stay at home Mum, turned comedic phenonmenon. She is a writer and performer, and most recently, winner of the Georgia Author of the Year. More awesomeness can be found at her website.

Panic Stations!

2010-06-27T14:27:00.003+10:00

So it seems I have found myself a job. Well, really, it found me. I went along to an employment agency (actually one I used to work for when I was a recruiter!) for one job; a temp admin officer role for my local City Council and ended up with a whole 'nother job! Turns out just before I turned up for the interview, they had gotten a role in that nicely combines my training credentials (that I've barely used) with my knowledge of bookkeeping software (that I haven't used for years. Ahem).

So now I'm panicking on two fronts, possibly three. Actually, more like four.

One, I'm not totally convinced I'm up for the job. Sure, I will be given a crash-course in the software, and I do have the theoretical knowledge of how to train, but still. Eeek! I am trying to remind myself that I do best when given a challenge I need to live up to, and having faith that my brain and ability to ~~take advantage of other people's skills~~ adapt quickly will see me through.

Two, it's a full time job. The first I've had since having GG. This is what really scares me. Yes, I know she's three now, and it's not like she's a tiny baby anymore, but I am really worried about how this will affect us. I know I will miss the time away from her, and I know I am lucky that instead of having to put her in kindy full-time (thus negating it even being worth working anyway), I have a great family who are willing to look after my little Gorgeous Girl, and so I am slightly reassured that she will still have that loving, one-on-one care that young kids need.

But I'm still going to be basically giving up being the main person responsible for caring for her, day to day. Up til now, even though she has been going to kindy two days a week since she was about a year old (three days for a while there when I was living in Brisbane and working part-time), I have been the person responsible for those little ways we all have, the little rituals and sayings and ways that become our memories of our childhoods. I have been the one to teach her and encourage her, read to her, all those things. I have been the one to set the limits of how I would like her to act, and to reinforce those, now I'm giving up control of that, and relying on others to shape her behaviour.

Having just re-read this, I'm aware of how melodramatic I am being, and how I am over-reacting, but it's how I feel right now, like I'm about to give up a big part of being a Mum.

The good part is I guess, is that I am the one who will suffer the most being away from GG. She herself will be going to play with her kindy friends like always, and hanging out the other days with some of her favourite people, no doubt being spoiled and indulged.

The saving grace of all this (apart from the much needed financial boost of course!) is that it's a contract role. We're still hashing out the details of how long for etc., and it's true I am hoping it will convert into a permanent role, but I will probably try to negotiate a part-time role moving forward, once the money earned by working full-time has helped us catch up.

So the third reason I'm panicking? It's nearly an hour's drive away. This means not only am I away from GG every weekday, but for a significant length of time each day.

Four, what the hell will I wear?

Does this mean I'm a columnist now?

2010-06-22T10:39:00.004+10:00

I am delighted to announce I have been asked to be a regular contributor on the wonderful Sharnanigans website!!

World domination here I come!!!

The contributions will focus a lot on my more spiritual side, my search for Zen and examining some of the issues affecting women today. Given an outlet for this side of me, this will help me get this blog back to what it orginally was, a light-hearted look at motherhood and other stuff that amuses and confuses me. Plus of course, the odd rant. Hey, I'm Quixotic, I've got to tilt at the odd windmill or two, right?

To check out this month's column, an exploration of negative self-talk and snarkiness towards other women, go here. If you're new to my blog, and want to check out the columns that got me a regular gig, check out here and here.

So go show Sharni some love, and ~~congratulate her for recognising my genuis~~ thank her for giving me a go!

And the winner is...

2010-06-21T14:25:00.003+10:00

The winner of the $60 voucher for Buyster.com.au is...

drumroll....

drumroll...

envelope please....

Hke68336!!! As decided by the random number generator.

The first two commenters weren't in Australia, so I couldn't include them, sorry. :(

Now here's the tricky part. I'm related to this commenter. I was tempted to run another draw, and also exclude the other family member who commented, but I don't want to punish them just for being related to me (some would say that's punishment enough!!).

So, even though it feels a little hinky, I am going to leave the results as they are, but promise you it was truly a fair draw.

So Hke, get yourself a proper name and email me for the details. And congratulations!

I have so many issues with this.

2010-06-18T17:12:00.004+10:00

Fellow Gold Coaster Jesinta Campbell has just been crowned Miss Universe Australia 2010.

I kind of have an issue with the whole Miss Universe thing anyway. Firstly, why is it always an Earthling who wins? Rigged much?

Then of course there is the whole judging women based on their looks issue. Now, now I know it claims to also rate them according to their poise and ability to promote World Peace or whatever it is Miss Universe is supposed to do. If this is truly the case, please see below:

Now, watch this clip of Jesinta completely fluffing her answer during the "interview" section:

And the winner is??

Of course! The beautiful girl who can't string a sentence together!

Okay, that was a bit nasty, yes she did completely stuff up, and even when she kind of pulled herself together and give an answer, sun protection (a very important issue for all Australians) became skin care (a very important thing for beauty industry advertising) and her message lost all it's power. She did however, show some sort of grace in realising she had stuffed up and when she first seizes up and looks plaintively out at the audience, you do kind of think, "Oh, bless her little cotton socks, poor dear."

Given that this pagent wasn't televised, I don't know how well or otherwise the other girls did in their interview section, but given that they are all stunningly gorgeous and know how to work a swimwear and high-heels combo, are the Miss Universe Australia people sure they couldn't have picked a girl who actually managed to speak coherently?

Ah well, all the best Jesinta. However much I detest beauty pagents, I'll be happy for you if you win.

P.S - Don't forget to check out my giveaway - over here!

I have glue gun, and I'm not afraid to use it...

2010-06-18T11:01:00.004+10:00

Actually, I'm petrified of the damn thing. I keep imagining what it would be like to live with my fingers glued together, then drifting off into various scenarios so much that I am actually in real danger of doing exactly that to myself. Sigh.

Anyflipper, in a burst of inspiration this morning I decided to dive into the massive cabinet full of scrapbooking things I have collected, blow off all the dust and actually do some scrapbooking.

I fell in love with the idea of scrapbooking while I was pregnant with GG. Up til then I had always thought of it as a bit daggy, and a bit of an old lady pursuit. Then I found out quite a few of my very trendy, creative friends also scrapped, and jumped on the bandwagon. Yes, I'm a lemming! So when Gorgeous Girl was born, I took millions of photos, all the while imagining how great they'd look in a beautifully embellished album.

Unfortunately, the nature of my particular addictive personality is that it's also very short-lived. I am also a perfectionist, and expect to be great at things immediately with no learning curve. All this, coupled with the demands of a fussy new baby, meant the all the scrapbooking paraphenalia was very quickly ~~thrown across the room~~ shelved.

But lo and behold; I have been itching to get back into it for a litle while now, and express some creativity (or perhaps develop some!), and scrapping is also a good way to use up all the wrapping paper and greeting cards I can't bring myself to throw into the recycling. Today I finished off a page I started ages ago, and completed two more whole pages! Clever me!

I'm a little hesitant to put up pics, as I know some people are actually much better at this than me, but I'm proud of them and wanted to share. Please remember, these are my first attempts!

Competition Time!!!

2010-06-17T20:46:00.003+10:00

I know, I'm excited too!!! For the first time ever, I am offering a give-away here at Quixotic Life!!

The good folks at Buyster.com.au have contacted me and offered up a $60 voucher, to spend on any item on their site. That's the whole site, folks: kitchenware, furniture, kid's toys, rugs, manchester and lighting!!! You do have to live in Australia however, or be willing to fly here to pick up your prize and ship it home!!

Head on over now and check them out, they do actually have great stuff. I did briefly wonder how this fits in with my whole "ethical consumer" stance, but then I advised myself to stop being so Serious Sally and give my readers some goodies!! It's not like I'm the one doing the buying, yeah?

So, what do you have to do? Well it's easy. If you're not already, become a follower. Then, leave a comment below describing the one thing that children (probably your own, but anyone's count!) have taught you that you didn't expect to find out.

Then cross your fingers and wait til Monday, when the winner will be chosen by one of those random number generator thingies, and announced!! Ta-da!!

Good luck!

Around the World, Around the World

2010-06-14T19:09:00.004+10:00

I think I just had one of those "teachable moments" the Montessori books are always talking about.

Earlier this evening, GG and I were enjoying some quiet, wind-down time listening to classical music after a gourmet dinner. Oh okay, you got me - we were watching T.V. after eating cereal for dinner (in my defence, we did have a lovely, healthy cauliflower soup for lunch)!

An ad came on the telly, advertising a European cruise company and showing iconic shots of castles, mountains, etc. Hannah noticed a particular scene looked pretty, and said she would like to visit that castle.

"Mmmm, it looks pretty, doesn't it honey?" I murmured non-commitally.

"You take me there one day Mummy?"

"Well, I'd love to honey, but it's a veeeeery long way, way away."

A discussion followed about how far it was, and I used a comparison of when we flew to Melbourne it took two hours in the plane, but to fly to Europe would take a whole day in a plane. I could see the concept didn't really take, and was ready to just change to subject and leave it, but GG kept asking questions relating to it, and I tried to think of ways to explain the scope of the world to a 3-year old.

In a burst of inspiration, I grabbed the (always handy) laptop, and pulled up a nice, colourful world map.

We then spent an amazing hour, exploring the world via Google images. I started off by showing her the Gold Coast, where we live, and tracked the mouse up to Brisbane, where we drove recently. I then showed her where Melbourne was, and reminded her how we travelled there by plane a year ago, and how long it took.

Then I showed her where various friends and family live or have sent her postcards from: Canada, Croatia, Italy, Bermuda, India, New Zealand, Germany. Her expression was priceless as she sat there on the couch, wide-eyed and contemplating the size of the world, and all the different countries. I explained that she would learn all this in school, but I could show her a bit for now and see what she thought. I've never seen her pay such rapt attention. She was fascinated, and asking questions about everything. She then herself started pointing at countries and asking about them: Russia, China, Indonesia, Africa, Brazil. Once I showed her each place on the map, I pulled up some images of iconic landmarks, the people, whatever came up. We saw carnivale outfits from Brazil, German castles, African kids tending their goats, Indian women in saris, the Canadian Rockies, Italian churches. I loved it, and I loved watching GG love it.

I'm not sure how much of it she absorbed, if any, but she was truly interested, and talking about the buildings and people she saw. Especially when she noticed that the African kids all had dark skin. She asked me why and I told her.

"Well, everybody has different coloured skin, see how mine is darker than yours? I bet you couldn't find one person with skin the exact same colour as yours. Well, people who live in Africa, their skin is all different shades too, but it tends to be darker, quite dark."

"But why is it dark?"

"Umm, well Africa is a very hot country, with lots of strong sun, and their dark skin protects them from getting burned by the sun."

What she definitely did absorb was that it's fascinating to learn new things, and that there is a whole, massive world of information out there, and it's at our fingertips.

I want to instill a love of learning in GG, a curiosity about why, what, how and a thirst for knowledge. It seems we're on the right track, her natural curiosity is only getting stronger and I need to be mindful of that, and make myself available to answer her questions, incessant as they may be!

I don't think we can just wait until our kids hit school age, then just turn them over to the teachers and hope everything goes well. We have been teaching them from the day they were born, and I think we should continue to do so, all the rest of their lives. Yes, schooling is important, and I'm certainly not the person to go to with your algebra equations, but parents need to encourage a desire to learn, and show how enriching it can be. I can still remember my Mum replying to me questioning the importance and relevance of a particular subject (it may or may not have been algebra), "The important part of school isn't exactly what you learn; it's that you learn how to learn."

We also need to remind them to be questioning, and examine the motivations behind the messages they receive. This is especially important as they get older and are hit by media and advertising more and more. Is that ad for Coke showing because they care about your happiness this summer, or because they want to sell more product?

These will definitely be the lessons I'll be teaching GG.

You know you're a Mama if...

2010-06-12T21:24:00.001+10:00

... even when talking to only adults, you still spell out the risqué words, like "B-R-A" and "L-O-L-L-I-E-S"?

... you couldn’t recommend a five-star restaurant to save your life, but know the exact location of every parents room and playground in a 10 kilometre radius.

... when fossicking about in your bag for your purse, you have pulled out a dummy/pair of kids undies/pointy plastic toy/desiccated snack food.

... you have ever wondered what the nutritional value of a dead leaf was.

... sleep is a distant memory.

... you find yourself still watching Play School, even though your children have wandered off to play.

... when quizzed, you can name the entire cast of your child’s favourite cartoon show.

... you can remember every major illness your children ever had, and when they had it, but can’t remember your husband’s mobile number.

... you have ever uttered the words, “Because I said so”, or “Well, why didn’t you go before we left?”

... you know what it is like to have your heart walk outside your body.

Introducing....

2010-06-11T09:42:00.006+10:00

My brand new nephew,

Parker!

Isn't he gorgeous? Yes, I am biased, having just become an Aunty for the first time, but c'mon, all babies are gorgeous and precious and squishy little love bundles!! The general consensus is he has his Dad's shape face, but Mum's features, he certainly has her stubborness!

Last Monday, having gone 10 days overdue, my sister was informed she 'had' to go to hospital to have an induction. Sharing the same DNA as me, she rankled a little at being told she 'had' to do anything, and lengthy discussion over medical know-how versus nature knowing what's best ensued. We both tended to err on the side that Mother Nature has been doing this baby thing for a while now, and probably has it down pat, but also the Doctors, despite often having a God complex, do know their stuff too, and only have her and the baby's best interest at heart. Plus, she was 10 days overdue, and completely over being pregnant. She just wanted to meet her baby.

So, Sis dutifully rocked up to hospital to have her induction. (I will try to keep this part of the post as TMI-free as possible, but hey, when you're talking babies, you're talking jay-jays!). Some gel was applied to her cervix and... nothing. Now, friends of mine have had inductions and tell me the minute that gel went on, wham! labour kicked in. So Sis (and the entire family) waited. And waited. And waited some more. Nothing, after a whole day, two lots of gel: nothing, no dilation, no effacing, a big fat nothing.

Tuesday morning, after having a very lonely night all by herself in hospital, another lot of gel was applied, and again nothing. Sis has been thinking long and hard and asks for a caesarian, but no dice. There's the difference between private and public hopitals, in private, they can't wait to cut you open, and will use any excuse to whip out a scapel. In public, you have you have to practically take to yourself with the bendy little plastic cutlery they give you with your dinner. (Yes, yes, I know I'm generalising, its called poetic licence and hey, how much fun would a reasoned, rational post be to read? That's right, none at all, so shush.)

So another day of waiting, another day of absolutely no progress. Another lonely night.

Wednesday morning, the most determined midwife on the planet finally manages to break Sis's waters. That is definitely a TMI item, suffice to say, she'd probably be pretty good at playing the piano. Then, they try to attach the little wire monitor thingy on bub's head. He decides to protest and is shaking his head to stop her. Mums, just pause for a second and imagine your bub's engaged head shaking around like a bobble-head dashboard dog. Yeah, fun. They do manage to get it on, but he shakes it off a bit later.

Because her waters have now been broken, Sis can now be put on a drip and given some drug or other that will start labour. It starts, sort of, but never really progresses past a bit uncomfortable. Cervix hasn't budged an inch.

After about 10 hours of mild labour, the Doctors finally get the picture (that the midwives have been telling them for a day and a half now) that the induction isn't working, and Sis gets a caesarian, and finally gets to meet her little man! For those who need to know, 8 pound, 11 ounces, with a whopping 37cm head! No wonder Sis's cervix didn't want anything to do with letting that kid through!

During this whole saga, I had been getting really pissed off at the whole process. My rankling at Sis being told she HAD to have an induction, rather than just let nature to the job probably stemmed from my own feelings about being being basically scared into a c-section I didn't need, and my resentment of that, so I had kind of swung to the opposite end of the pendulum. I can know see that yes, she was over a week overdue, and something needed to be done, and of course, you don't want to just start cutting expectant Mums open just because it's all getting a bit tedious. Part of it was also a kind of protectiveness of my baby sister, and reacting to seeing her getting upset.

When I was getting rather gnashy and attitude-y about the whole thing, and contemplating storming the maternity ward like an SS trooper and applying foot to ass, I had a conversation with my Mum and my own Aunty. They gave me some very wise and timely advice, "Yes, it's frustrating and probably a bit scary, and not quite what she had planned, but hey! Welcome to parenthood". Instantly, the wind went out of my sails and I calmed down. Of course, they were right. In the lifetime of motherhood Sis has ahead of her, this will barely even rate as a blip.

I'm not against anyway a Mother wants to have her baby, nor anyway she ends up delivering. Labour is just the beginning of parenthood, not the defining moment. We need to remember the goal is end up with a happy, healthy baby in your arms, not to have a certain type of experience.

Now that I've had my rant, here's some pics to get us all gooey again.

GG meeting Parker. She was so cute with him, softly crooning, "Hello baby Parker, I'm your cousin". So gentle and tender with him. Bless.

P.S. We have since found out that Sis and her husband found out the baby's gender at 8 months... and managed to keep the secret the whole time!!!! She should be a secret agent!

Stay Tuned!!

2010-06-10T22:37:00.003+10:00

Coming soon: a new baby, lots of gorgeous newborn pics and a bit of a rant!!!

Intrigued? Yes? Good, that's the plan!!

Ethical Consumerism – The First Foray

2010-06-10T22:26:00.003+10:00

After having made the decision to start being more aware of where what I buy comes from, and just what I am supporting with my dollar, I did this week’s shop pretty much as an experiment. I am never going to assimilate all the information on all the companies out there, so I figured I would buy as I usually do, and then do the research. Yes, I probably could have done my research first, but the sad fact is I can’t remember what brand a lot of the things I buy are, until I see it sitting on the shelf and recognise the colours and pretty pictures. You know, sort of like a friend you went to school with, you don’t know their name, but when you see them, they feel familiar!

The sources I am using at the moment are Knowmore.org, the Choice website, a whole lotta Google and the Ethical Consumer Guide, both the website and the handbag-sized book, which I sure will be handy as I get more educated, but at the moment constantly referring to it whilst wrangling a 3 year old with the exuberance of a baby lamb, steering a trolley who clearly has a murder-suicide pact with the end-of-aisle displays, whilst simultaneously trying to maintain a conversation with my slightly dotty mother and actually complete my shopping before Christmas is only slightly easier than negotiating world peace.

So, working through the receipt from today’s shop, here is how I went. Overall, I’m pretty happy with this shop, as I mentioned in my last post, a lot of the time I have to make sacrifices between what I’d like to be buying, and what we can actually afford.

Pantry
Campbell’s Vegetable Stock – Campbell’s have received some criticism of not labelling GMO foods, and are on record for having donated money towards overthrowing a ruling that would make them, but have no other though.

Campbell’s also own Arnott’s, whose biscuits I usually buy (Milk Arrowroots) but today I took advantage of a special and bought the Goodman Fielder owned Paradise brand biscuits. I haven’t tried them yet but if they are yummy I will continue to buy them anyway, as they are made in Australia (despite being almost an Aussie icon, Arnott’s are now owned by Campbell’s, an American company) and the Ethical Consumer Guide listed them as no criticisms, and strong praise for GE-free brands and being a signatory to the National Packaging Covenant (2008).

Tuscan Meatball meal base - Masterfoods - I usually don’t like to use these, but sometimes I am tempted to buy one that looks yummy or has been recommended, then make my own version from scratch. I did this recently with a Tomato & Onion Sausage Slow Cooker recipe base, and my home version is actually nicer. I choose this one as it sounded appealing and had no preservatives, numbers etc. included. Masterfoods products are made by Mars Australia, owned by Effem Foods Pty Ltd, who in turn are owned by Mars Inc. Mars Inc. has been criticised for continuing to exacerbate the problems of child labour and poverty by refusing to enter Fair Trade agreements with Cocoa farmers. Mars, as the largest chocolate and candy company in the world, with annual sales of more than $20 billion, has the highest responsibility and the most resources to offer Fair Trade Certified chocolate, so it is terribly disappointing that they don’t.

Therefore – no more Masterfoods products.

Dairy
A2 milk – produced by Freedom Nutritional foods, no information available other than non-compliance with a voluntary signing of the NPC. I choose it though as the A2 casien is much less likely than the A1 caseins in normal milk to set of allergies and asthma, which GG is high-risk for.

I drink Shape – made by Lion Nathans, owned by Kirin Holdings. Hematech (a division of Kirin) have received criticism for genetically modifying beef cattle for anti-body production. I need to look into this further to decide how I feel about it. At first glance it smacks of animal testing, but my feeling is it may be similar to how draft horses are used to produce anti-venon to save lives from snakebites etc. The animals are usually kept in quite good conditions, because they need to be in robust health for the process to work. Initially very, very small amounts of venom (or viruses, I guess) are injected into the animal, and as their system produces anti-bodies for it, larger amounts are introduced. Eventually, the animal has a large amount of anti-bodies in its system which can be taken from blood drawn from the animal and isolated. I am trying to find more information on if this process is similar to what Hematech do, but need to do more digging.

Custard and cream – Pauls – made by Parmalat Australia, but owned by Parmalat, an Italian company. They get a strong tick from the Ethical Consumer Guide, so I’ll happily continue buying this brand. Again, I would buy organic from a health store if and when I can afford it, but for now, it’s good enough.

Mainland cheese – NZ owned Fonterra Co-Operative Group, also gets a tick from the ECG.

Meat
I also bought Coles brand pork sausages, mince and gravy beef. I’m happy with the mince and beef, I’d prefer organic, but can’t afford it this week, but at least it’s Australian and I’m happy with the standard of animal welfare for beef cattle in Australia.

Cereals
Be Natural Muesli Bars – these are made by Kelloggs. This was a judgemental call, I’m not a fan of their marketing tactics, especially for cereals like Nutri-Grain, and they actually have a boycott call out at the moment for refusing to use only GE-Free Sugar, but this wasn’t as important to me as not buying the Uncle Toby’s brand, who are owned by Nestle, and we are boycotting Nestle due to their continuing to use cocoa from the Ivory Coast, despite the use of forced and unforced child labour there, and their appalling practices in aggressively and irresponsibly marketing baby formula in developing countries, esp. Africa.

Wiggles branded kids Weet-Bix – made in Australia by Sanitarium, who are actually owned by the Seventh Day Adventist Church, which I didn’t know, but I’m still happy to buy the products.
Helgas Soy & Linseed bread – a Goodman Fielder company. This again was a judgement call. Whilst their advertising for Meadow Lea pissed me off, that isn’t enough of a reason for me not to buy this brand. Their record on the use of palm oil might be in the future though – they are members of the Roundtable on Sustainable Palm Oil, but are yet to take any action on this. I’m giving them a bit of rope, seeing if they will hang themselves.

Fruit & Veg
I also bought my fruit and veg from Coles today. I usually like to but these from the local growers at my neighbourhood Farmers Market, at least until my own garden starts producing again, but I know we have plans for this Sunday morning so I won’t get there, and besides, what would GG eat til the end of the week? I will try to buy more from there in future, or at least from my local Wray Organic store, who source from local growers.

I hope I haven’t bored you completely to tears with this post, this is more about me wanting to be more accountable, rather than me wanting to entertain you (as much as I desperately do, you understand), and if you have made it this far, thank you, now go get a life!!!

Good Buy-brations

2010-06-07T13:23:00.003+10:00

I'm setting myself a challenge, something I have been thinking about and working towards for a little while now.

I'm working towards being an ethical consumer. It's quite a maze, there is so much to consider; organics, preservatives and additives, fairtrade practices, company corporate stewardship, food miles, price, genetic engineering, blah-de-blah-blah.

It started as a germ of an idea, and like so many things in my life, ethical consumerism just kept popping up in my life; I'd open a magazine and see an article about sweatshops and the fashion industry, organics was everywhere I turned, I'd get a flyer advertising local fruits and veggies and talking about food miles. The clincher was when I discovered a little while ago the Ethical Consumer Guide website. Suddenly, there were no more excuses.

Take for instance the link between the chocolate industry and child slave labour. Once you learn something like that, it's pretty hard to ignore it, and as the website says, Your Dollar is Your Vote. You might think that one person giving up their Fruit N Nut isn't a big dent in the profits of a mega-multi-national, but I am a firm believer in the premise that if you aren't part of the solution, you are part of the problem. Besides, what if a million people all decided that they were the one person who could make a difference?

As an aside, I see that Cadbury are now advertising their Dairy Milk range as Fairtrade, which I'm sure is a great step in the right direction, but if I'm giving money for that particular product, I'm really giving money to the entire company, the rest of which is not Fairtrade Certified.

In the grocery arena, given that there are so many things to consider,and I often have to make a trade-off between a few products, neither of which are 100% perfect, but for instance, choosing a imported brand that is Fairtrade certified, as opposed to an Australian made brand, owned by international conglomerate with an appaling record, like Nestle. I still have a household to manage on a very tight budget, and sometimes compromises must be made. This is where the Ethical Consumer pocket guide is great, I can whip it out at the shops and use it to help make an informed decision.

It took me a little while to define what exactly I am challenging myself to do; I'm certainly not setting out to only buy organic, or only local foods etc., but I do care about supporting ethical and fairtrade companies, as well as the quality of the food I give my family. I eventually got it into words, remembering the whole Your Dollar is Your Vote premise...

"I'm only going to buy products I feel good about giving my vote to."

I want to make sure I am providing healthy food for my family, as interfered with as little as possible, and containing as few numbers as possible, while at the same time supporting companies that are preferably Australian, ethical and fairtrade.

I was considering making myself accountable to this by blogging about it, and I'd be interested to hear if you are interested in reading about it?

As for the gentic engineering thing, I'm still on the fence, still researching. Part of me says that we have been selectively breeding plants and animals for desirable qualities for centuries. Without "engineering" of genetics, we wouldn't have Labradors, or orange carrots (they used to be purple, you know). But this was all selective breeding that could conceivably happen naturally, taking animals or plants with desirable qualities, and cross-breeding them with animals and plants from the same species with other desirable qualities. Cool. What I'm not so sure about is, for example, taking the genes of the cold-water fish the winter flounder, and inserting them into the DNA of strawberries, so they will tolerate cold better. Creepy.

I do wonder though, if the Frankenstein factor might be worth it, should genetic engineering prove a viable way to combat world hunger. Somehow I doubt it will though, given that poverty and hunger in thrid-world countries has more to do with politics, power and money than the amount of food available worldwide. Especially since genetically engineered seeds are patented and licensed, and the countries that can't afford to feed their people as it is are hardly likely to be able to afford these. Or the despots running the country aren't likely to, given that they amass armies in their own name rather than feed their people as it is.

Poor Me Post

2010-06-06T12:12:00.002+10:00

Sorry I have been absent folks, I thought I was battling a headcold, but it turns out I have another problem - an infected wisdom tooth. It had been aching for a few days, but I thought it would just pop through liek the others... not so. After waking up last night in AGONY, thawing half a freezers worth of frozen veggies etc. on the side of my face whilst finally agreeing that the nausea and loopiness that codine gives me was worth it and spending the night lying awake in misery trying to figure out how I can rip my jaw out of my head, I did what all modern, independent women do... I called my Mum and asked her to take me to where they keep the drugs. Hubby and child headed off to a friends birthday lunch in Brisbane and we were off to the dentist.

Turns out I have a very infected and possibly impacted wisdom tooth. Pericoron-something-itis. Did I mention codine makes me loopy?

So I am whisked off for an x-ray so they can see the lay of the land in my jaw and rip the sucker out. At th elast minute before I get under the x-ray machine thingy, I think to say, "Oh, there's a slight chance I could be pregnant". Yep, secret's out, we've been trying for a little while, but had some issues with weird cycles etc. I think we missed out window this month, but not entirely sure. I almost wish I'd not siad anything. No I don't. Well, maybe.

Turns out, no x-ray with a chance of pregancy. And no extraction without an x-ray, they need to see where the nerves or something imprtant-sounding are.

So, for the first time all year, I am now hoping that I'm NOT pregnant, and hoping that the anti-biotics they gave me kick in quick. Otherwise, I can't have my tooth out for 9 months!!! Arrrghh!

Oh, and just to amke sure I'm truly miserable, I still have rampant sinusitis and pressure headaches from that. Cause you know, I don't do things by halves!

OK, enough self-pity, I'm going to lay down. Peace out everyone.

Wordless Wednesday

2010-06-02T21:30:00.003+10:00

Baby got Back... Chat

2010-06-01T16:59:00.004+10:00

No! I want this one! No, because I want...! No, because I don't like it!, No, I want that one! No, I do it!!! No, I do it myself!

Gah!!!! It has been backchat city around here for the last week or so. GG has discovered she has her own opinions on a vast range of subjects, and is adamant about expressing these. She also highly values her ever-growing independence, and vehemently resists any effort on my part to assist her in any way, shape or form. Of course, she is only capable of so much, and then when she can't do something, throws a fit. All of this, combined with my battling a headcold, has made me want to ~~lock her in a cupboard~~ lock myself in my room. With a bottle of ~~vodka~~ Nyall.

Everything has been a battle this week, from getting her dressed, where she refuses to wear anything other than some God-awful and totally seasonally inappropriate outfit she has chosen herself, getting her in the bath, getting her out of the bath, you name it, if I mention it, she refuses it. I've always been a 'pick your battles' kind of Mum, willing to let some things slide, so as I'm not constantly harping on at her, but this is becoming like a reflex; Mummy says something, I say No.

GG has always been a happy soul, she's had the usual toddler tantrums and crankiness when she's tired etc., but her basic nature is sunshine. She is also usually very helpful, always wanting to do some small job; be the stirrer when I'm baking, help me weed the garden, pass me pegs as I hang washing etc., she just likes to be involved. This has stopped in the last week, anytime I ask her if she wants to help me, I get a firm No. She also used to be a quite agreeable girl, happy to go along with whatever I suggested, now she argues almost everything.

This morning I gave her a warning about the way she was behaving and was told, "Mummy, you need to watch your attitude". Hmmmm. Resisting the urge to throw something at her, I simply told her the way she was speaking to me was rude, and I wasn't interested in listening to her. She did actually say sorry at the time, so I left it, but a bit later I spoke to her about how it mightn't seem fair that she can't tell me what to do, but I can tell her, but that is because I am the adult, and my job is to teach her acceptable ways of behaving and speaking to people.

One of her favourite causes to rail against is the fact that I am in charge, and she will nearly always shout back, "No I am!!" I understand how frustrating it must be for her, she has just turned three and is just now realising how powerless she is, how many decisions are out of her hands. I am sort of proud of her for valuing her independence so much, and fighting so fiercely for it. I don't want to stamp that out, it will serve her well in the future, but I do need to find a channel for it. I give her as many opportunities as I can to let her make her own decisions, but instead of her demanding to wear a summer dress in cold, rainy weather, I give her three options, all clothes I am happy for her to wear, then she can choose from these. I create as many opportunites as I can at home to let her choose what we will do together, and I let her do as many things as she can for herself, like I make sure her shoes have velcro or elastic straps, so she can put them on herself.

I'm betting on my theory that this is just another phase, an exploration of what she can and can't do, and an experiment in what I'll let her get away with. I'm betting on the theory that children need parents (especially the main caregiver) who are confidently in charge, sure of themselves and consistent in the limits they set. The need to feel that someone who is capable of being in charge is in charge. So I'm going to give her those small accomplishments, just enough to retain that spark of independence, but try not to play into her drama so much and remain firmly, calmly in charge. I'm sure her natural inclination to want to be part of the team that is our family and help out will re-assert itself, as soon as she's done testing her limits.

And I'm pretty sure both of us will survive this phase. Just.

You will never be merely pretty.

2010-05-29T12:18:00.004+10:00

Oh wow. I just found this site, Consumption Rebellion (which is awesome!) and on it, this amazing piece from poetry slammer Katie Makkai.

Given all that I have spoken about in regards to my angst when I think about how I am going to counter-act all the shameless, insidious poision in society and the media and convince my darling, clever, funny, kind and, yes, gorgeous girl that she is not only beautiful just the way she is, but that is is worth far more than just her appearance anyway, well, I just had to share this.

A sad farewell

2010-05-27T18:24:00.003+10:00

I am putting my dog to sleep tomorrow.

Not the dog we have now, who guest posted a little while back, but Chloe, a dog I had before I moved to Brisbane and got married. She stayed behind on my parent's property, as a suburban backyard is no place for a Kelpie, especially when we would be out all day.

She is nearly 15 now, practically blind and almost completely deaf. She also suffered a series of strokes a while back, and the toll they have taken on her balance and mobility is now getting worse. All told, it's time - she is no longer comfortable, she's in pain a lot and it's not fair on her to prolong it any more.

So my head knows all this, but would someone please tell my heart?

Chloe was one of those truly good dogs you are lucky to know (amazingly, so is Scout, our current family dog). I got her from the Animal Welfare pound here on the Gold Coast, and from the minute she choose me, I was hooked. I truly believe the right dog for you will choose you, I was actually playing with some other puppies, non-working dog breeds like I wanted, when Chloe trotted straight up and sat herself in my lap. We were told at the time she was a Kelpie / German Shepard cross, but as she grew it was obvious she was a Kelpie/Staffy cross. She had the loyalty both breeds are famous for, as evidenced when we got her home. We put her out on the verandah, as we had never been a dogs-inside-the-house family. Chloe jumped the barricade, slipped her collar, squeezed through gaps and generally refused to accept that her place was anywhere other than at my feet. At the same time, she knew exactly who to charm to get this happening, she had my tough old Dad wrapped around her paw within a few hours.

Even as a puppy, she was desperate to please. She never chewed anything other than her toys, only ever dug one hole, and when she got yelled at for it, never did it again.

As I wasn't working at this time, Chloe spent nearly all her time with me, she was my shadow, and I could take her anywhere. If I walked into a shop or what have you, she would wait outside until I came out. We used to joke that I could go on holiday and she would wait outside the airport.

Unless you're a dog person, you won't understand, but I felt, and still feel, such a bond with her, she was a wonderful companion and a great listener. There's nothing like the feeling of knowing all she wanted was to be with you, to receive that unconditional love. I never like to compare animals to people, or refer to them as 'children', but I really felt like we were a team, she was a big part of my family.

Because she was a working dog, she had a lot of energy, and a very quick brain. Kelpies need a job to do, something to occupy them, so I took her to obedience and agility classes. She excelled at these, and became famous in the family for some of her tricks. My father has a very bad back, so he taught her (within a day) that whenever he dropped anything (a spoon, a lighter, etc.), she would dart in, pick it up and give it to him. She was obsessed with fetching a ball, it was her absolute favourite thing to do, but if I told her to stay put, you could bounce one right in front of her nose, and she'd ignore it. And even when she was playing fetch, if you said to her, "This is the last one", she would know the game was over and wouldn't chase it.

I would often take her to the beach with my friend M, who had young children. Chloe would spend endless hours gently herding the kids back to us, stopping them from running too far down the beach, and keeping them in front of where we sat with the baby.

She was terrified of our neighbours flock of geese, but when my sister was feeding them and they got quite aggressive, she ran over and threw herself into the flock, scattering them and getting a few nasty bites in the process no doubt.

Chloe has lived a life full of loyalty, love, fun and freedom, and I am already crying typing this, so I have no idea how I'm going to go tomorrow, but I know I have to be the one to be there with her, and thank her for all she's done for me. I wish I had a photo of her on my computer, or a scanner, as I'd love to show her to you. There's a great photo of her and I, taken on the morning of an obedience class, where she is looking straight at the photographer and I swear you can see her pure heart shining out of her eyes. I've been meaning to get a copy of it for ages and put it up, and I feel bad that it's taken having to say goodbye to her to get me around to it.

So, if you're the type, please say a quick prayer tomorrow morning, as the angels in doggy-heaven get their throwing arms ready.

Also , if anyone has any ideas on how to explain this to a three-year old, I would really appreciate any tips.

Is this like cheating on your blog?

2010-05-26T20:56:00.003+10:00

Well, I've been very naughty, neglecting my own blog to write for another!! It's like e-adultery, isnt it!!!

If you can bring yourself to forgive me, I am back at Sharnanigans tonight, talking about how becoming a mother has changed me and set me on this path of discovery. It seems like I have a regular gig there now, which I am totally excited about. I love Sharni's website, and I love being part of it as we all work together to figure out this motherhood / spirituality thing.

Friend or fear?

2010-05-19T14:11:00.005+10:00

"I'm my daughter's best friend."

This is the statement that bought a girlie catch-up I was at recently to a screeching halt. The woman speaking has a teenage daughter, and a quite permissive relationship with her, something that has been commented on by us to her before.

She stated this in the context that she was never going to be able to stop her daughter getting up to all the hi-jinks she did as a kid; drinking, going off with boys, experimenting with drugs etc., so she would rather have the kind of relationship where her daughter felt safe enough to talk to her about anything she got up to.

Another friend of mine, with a daughter the same age, piped up with, "Well, I'd rather my daughter was scared enough of me she didn't do it in the first place".

Many swift and silent glances were exchanged between the rest of us, quickly followed by a quick gulp of champagne as we gleefully settled in to watch the fireworks fly. I know, terrible aren't we?

Suffice to say, a spirited exchange of views ensued.

It got me thinking though, about the type of parent I want to be as my daughter grows older and hits those perilous teenage years. I think the groundwork for these years is being laid even now at three years old. My Gorgeous Girl really is a pretty good kid, but she can really turn it on when she's feeling feisty; backchat, tantrums, throwing, hitting out at me - you name it.

And already I have decided: I don't want to be her friend.

I want to be her Mum. I want her to realise just how slavishly devoted to her I am, how desperately I love her... and that I will not hesitate to send her to her room when she's acting bratty.

I would love to have the kind of relationship when she's older where she will still feel she can talk to me about whatever is going on in her life, but I think there needs to be a background of respect there, and that starts now. She will learn she can trust me, there is nothing she can do that will make me love her less, but that she will be held accountable for her behaviour, she will know what is right and what is wrong, and I will expect her to make good choices. When she doesn't make good choices, I'll be there to help her fix it, but she will have to take responsibility for her actions. God, I hope I can live up to this ideal in reality.

I remember back to when I was a teenager (and a bit of a hellraiser myself). I had friends with Mums who wanted to be liked by their daughters as a friend, rather than loved like a Mother. Although now my relationship with my Mum is more like friendship, back then she also wasn't interested in being my friend; she was my Mum. As much as I loved her, wholeheartedly, and knew she loved me, she wasn't scared of saying no and having me hate her (briefly) for it. Thank God. I got up to a fair bit of trouble as a kid, was never into drugs luckily, but did the whole teenage rebellion thing fairly well. I shudder to think what I would've done had I not been terrified of the wrath of my parents!

I had a friend at the time, the only child of quite eldery parents, who were so grateful to have a child, they let her get away with anything. She was boasting to me once about how her parents were about as tough as bunny rabbits; they let her go out late at night, aged 14, to meet up with older boys, they never questioned what she got up to, where she was going, or even whose house she actually stayed over at when she said she was at mine. As she was boasting about this, all I remember thinking was, "God, don't they care about you at all?".

So, for me, my views on motherhood are a bit less bunny-like and more like a lioness: I will love you fiercely, I will fight tooth and nail to protect you and I will raise you to be a mighty creature to be reckoned with in your own right, but I will also not hesitate to roar at you and show my claws when needed.

Homecoming Queen

2010-05-16T07:05:00.004+10:00

After 210 days, multiple 'knockdowns', being de-masted, eating horrible tinned food and managing not to run into any more container ships, Jessica Watson has single-handedly sailed herself around the world. At 16.

Simply amazing.

Some of you may remember this post I wrote about her father's comment in the lead up to her world-record breaking journey that he would rather see her dead than deny her her dream. I reckon all the (deserved) hoopla now surrounding Jessica will just convince this dickhead that he was right to feel that way. And that really pisses me off, justifying that sort of glib, irresponsible parenting. Grrr...

But back to Jessica, let's ignore her wanker Dad and think about what it must of taken her to achieve this feat.

First of all, when she announced she was going to attempt this journey - oh, as an aside, can someone please remind all the reality TV shows, that this is what a 'journey' is - she was immediately scorned by doubters, both from the professional sailing world and the armchair experts around the country. Unfortunately, this is somewhat of an Aussie thing, the Tall Poppy Syndrome, when someone wants to rise above, there is a tendency by some to want to cut them back down, to fit in with the rest, to just be average. It's one of the things about Australia of which I am definitely not proud.

Jessica was undeterred. I remember at the time finding her a little bit smug. Well, maybe, or maybe she was simply convinced that she could do this thing, and all the negative words just rolled over her, as insignificant as a single drop in her beloved sea.

Then of course, she collided with a container ship, barely a week into her journey, and had to wait while her yacht was repaired to start again.

Think back to when you were 16.

Can you imagine taking that kind of blow to your confidence, to your dream, and simply continuing on? Wouldn't you feel like you'd made a massive mistake? It would be so easy to let all the doubters crowing and revelling in your misfourtune erode your confidence.

Again, Jessica kept her mouth shut and simply continued on.

Isn't it interesting how, now that she has succeeded in her journey, these incidences are just part of her remarkable spirt, her confidence in herself. Had she been unable to complete this record feat, those same incidences would be hailed as 'proof' she wasn't up to it. I guess the parts are defined by the overall success or failure of the whole.

I really hope that the other 16 year olds, currently laying around on the couch, endlessly Facebooking each other and ignoring their parents plantive cries to get up for God's sake and do something with their lives, are inspired by Jessica's passion and determination, and find something they too can feel as strongly about.

And I really hope Jessica goes on to do more amazing and inspiring feats. After all, can you imagine your whole life peaking at 16?

Blogging in the Buff!

2010-05-13T19:17:00.011+10:00

As soon as I read Jodie's post over at Mummy Mayhem, I knew I had to take up the challenge!

If you haven't read it (though you really should) she talks about what sort of message are we sending when we refuse to be seen without makeup? Is it simpy pride in your appearance, or an inability to accept our true selves and love ourselves for us, just as we are?

She also talks about the fad of magazines printing "Stars Without Their Makeup" specials. These have always interested me, like it's some sort of amazing, ultra-unusual thing for a woman, no matter how famous, to be seen without makeup. The stories are always pitched in a gasp-in-shock sort of style, like we shouldn't think it's normal to wear only your skin on your face.

Sure, sometimes it's nice to be reminded that only rarely do those women who you often compare yourself to (and find yourself lacking) actually look like that, and usually it's not just makeup, but a whole lot of airbrushing that gets them to that state, but it still rankles me that they are presented in such a voyueristic fashion, like we should be shocked and titilated to see such a thing.

Which is why Kate Walsh is my new hero. She recently attended a movie premier, red carpet appearance and all, with no makeup on! She twittered beforehand that she simply hadn't had time to get all made up, so went without. I think she looked gorgeous, she obviously has beautiful skin, and I would kill for her jawline.

There's been some discussion that she appears to have some under-eye concealer on, and she is no doubt a Botox devotee, so she's not really au naturel, but I think for a Hollywood actress to go to an actual red carpet event with anything less than full war-paint is a spectacular statement about beauty, and self-confidence. Good on her.

I'm not saying makeup is a bad thing, I certainly wear it to special events, and usually even to work. It's funny that I referred to it by the colloqiualism war-paint just then, because I tend to use makeup for exactly that; it can be my armour. If I know I am going to be facing a situation that makes me nervous, or where I will be the focus of attention for any reason, I will wear a lot of makeup, with strong, bold colours to give me a sense of strength and boldness.

Why I feel like a few layers of foundation and mascara will make me smarter, quicker, more patient and eloquent is beyond me, though maybe not to anyone who has studied the effects of a looks based society on a teenage girl with self-image issues.

And here is the crux of the matter.

A few months ago, as I was getting ready for work, my own little Gorgeous Gal was sitting on the bed, watching me put my makeup on.

"Mummy, why you put on your makeup?"

"Uhh..." I had one of those moments we have as parents where several answers immediately come to mind, but you automatically censor them as you see how the conversation would continue. The obvious answer that came to me was, "To make me look pretty", but then I could almost hear her wonder to herself if she wasn't wearing makeup, did that mean she wasn't pretty?

Or I could've answered, "Because I don't like how my cheeks are always red, and I want to cover it up", and watched her little face cloud over as she remembers all the times I have delighted in the very same rosy tint to her cheeks and wonders if I really loved it after all.

I really had no good answer. Why did I wear this stuff?

In the end I stammered out an answer about it meaning I was taking going to work seriously (I know, WTF right??) and changed the subject.

And this is when she's three! What's going to happen as she gets older, starts examining her own self-image. What's going to happen when she inevitably starts comparing herself to her school friends and whoever the latest tween poppet is? What's going to happen when she starts reading Dolly magazine for Christ's sake? How can I tell my daughter that she is more than beautiful, just as she is?

How can I help her love herself just as she is, when I can't do it myself?

The issue of how I can teach her she is more than just how she looks is another issue entirely, but something I am working on. Yes, already. I want to get to her before the damn media does.

Since becoming a Mum, there have been more and more days where I simply haven't had the time or inclination to put on a full face of makeup, or even a swipe of lip gloss come to that. I would initially feel like I had come down to the shops naked. I felt insecure and frumpy. Suprisingly, nobody reeled in horror, or went shrieking down the aisles. Not once was I mistaken for the Swamp Thing.

Now, more often than not, I am bare-faced. My husband actually thinks I look younger when I don't wear any makeup. I am finally comfortable in myself. Well, from the neck up anyway, I'm still not happy in my body, I want it to be healthier and yes, slimmer than it is, but I still love it for what it can do. I have made peace with the ever-present dark circles under my eyes (I've always had them, they're not a tiredness or toxin thing), the blemishes I hardly ever got as a teenager but who are making up for it now, and my good Celtic skin that flushes beet-red at the slightest hint of exertion or emotion.

I'm hoping that through my example (and tireless brainwashing) GG will realise that you don't need a layer of makeup to face the world, and certainly not some beauty product with it's ridiculous pseudo-scientific and completely bogus claims to be beautiful. You just need to be healthy, confident that you are more than your looks, happy with who you are as a person, and your inner beauty will shine through. Of course, it doesn't hurt that GG is, in fact gorgeous.

So, after all my blah, blah, blahing: here it is, my example to my daughter... me in my natural state, no makeup, no hairstyling (and also no top of my head - sorry about that, taking your own photo is hard!)

You know, I could sit here and point out all the faults and flaws I think I see, but actually, I think I look fine.

Dare to Bare - Come and get naked with me!!

2010-05-13T17:21:00.003+10:00

This is a flat out, throw-down-the-gauntlet challenge to all you women out there.

Via Kristen at Wanderlust, I came across the lovely Jodie at Mummy Mayhem and her post that has started snowballing throughout my blogroll; Bloggers Without Their Makeup.

This is a subject close to my heart, not just because of those horrible magazines who photo-shop already skinny girls til they practically don't exist, and correct every 'flaw' in their skin til they resemble a cartoon character, but because it hits quite close to home.

I'll elaborate more in my "Naked Post" tomorrow, but it's all about loving our true selves, and showing that acceptance of ourselves to a vunerable and impressionalbe next generation.

So - I'll be joining in, will you? And don't think you need a blog of your own to post shots of yourself sans makeup, I, being the incredibly generous soul that I am, will happily post your photo here, if you're game enough to show your true self to the world. Just send it to me here.

Get naked and get blogging!

I'm over here today!

2010-05-13T09:07:00.002+10:00

The lovely Sharni at Sharnanigans has asked me to do a guest post on her fabulous blog.

I love Sharni's website, we started blogging about the same time and both discovered each other almost immediately. In her I sense a kindred spririt, someone who is excited to discover this new world of motherhood she finds herself in, and explore her spirituality along with it.

So go check it out, and show her what awesome followers I have!!!

Oh, and P.S., tomorrow I'll be back here, and I'll be in the buff!!! Curious? Stay tuned....

Oh, Mother!

2010-05-05T12:55:00.006+10:00

Sunday is Mothers Day here, and of course, all week my letterbox has been bombarded with catalouges full of 'gift ideas'.

Apparently though, as a Mother, the only things I must be in need of are slippers, dressing gowns, cooking utensils (can you imagine... "Here Mum, just to reinforce that the only thing you do around here is fill up the trough, here's a frypan." I see a frypan-erectomy resulting from that scenario), music by either Andre Rieu or Susan Boyle or a chintzy little tea mug.

Umm... exactly what sort of profile are Mothers getting these days? Even my mother sneers at the assumed interests of 'her set'. Frankly, she'd rather be dancing than knitting, cares not a jot for houseplants, and whilst she thinks mad old Sue has a great voice, would rather listen to Duffy.

As for the 20- and 30-something Mums out there, where's our catalouge? The one with cool, funky stuff that doesn't buy into the notion that the minute we produce another human, we forfeit all rights to having a lifestyle and interests on par with our non-human producing peers.

For the record, here's what I, a 32 year old Mum, would like for Mothers Day (Hubby, your ears should have pricked up right about now):

Tickets to Powderfinger's last ever concert in their hometown of Brisbane. Bernard, I heart you.

A signed first edition of To Kill A Mockingbird.

A day at a spa.

One of those funky silver necklaces where you put your child's thumbprint in the charm.

Enough moolah to go buy a great pair of black ankle boots for this winter.

This t-shirt:

Doncha love it?

And of course, a full nights sleep and the eternal gratitude of my child.

Actually, I kind of would like some of those cute Davenport home socks. Well, the tiles do get cold...

Just don't tell the catalouge people, okay?

Sometimes a lack of vanity is a bad thing...

2010-05-04T22:20:00.004+10:00

Note to Self: It is in fact possible to take budgetary cutback measures too far. Just because cutting your own fringe was a success, does in no way mean cutting your skanky dead ends off with the kitchen scissors will be a similar success.

Lesson learned: The next time you get completely sick of the frizzy, split end riddled last few inches of your hair and dealing with a big knot of dead ends, learn some bloody patience and wait til you can go to an actual hairdresser, rather than lop the bloody thing off.

Looks like I'll be continuing to wear it scrunched up in a messy bun, if only to hide the uneven ends, let alone the couple of chunks missing!

First post flashback - I've been tagged!

2010-05-01T21:47:00.005+10:00

I've been tagged by Corrine over at A Day in the Life to participate in a meme where we go back and re-visit our first ever blog post.

The idea is to see how far we've come, do we still write in the same manner etc., and examine why we started blogging in the first place.

I had been thinking about writing a blog for quite awhile before I actually put finger to keypad. My very tech-savvy sister had gotten me into the whole thing by sharing some of the blogs she followed, and it had stirred up a rememberance for my love of writing.

Plus, having recently become a Mum, I was incenced at all the bullshit out there that targeted mothers and parenting in general. So much conflicting advice, condescending "experts" and playgroup bitches out to judge your choices to feel better about their own.

Being plagued with self-doubt though, I assumed no-one would want to read my drivel and shelved the whole idea. Then a few people started ~~interrupting my ranting and~~ telling me I should write a blog. Then a few more. Then I decided that when the 10th person who didn't know I wanted to write a blog told me that I should, I would. They did, so I did.

I've got to tell you, even though my blog-frequency has waned of late, it is something I still really love and has saved my sanity a few times. Often I'm not even sure what I am going to say on a certain topic until I see it come from my fingertips onto the page. Certain posts have taken on a life of their own, and some have even come to me practically complete as I've lain in bed vainly trying to get to sleep. The fact that I've gotten out of bed in the middle of the night to get a post down is something I'm not sure I'm proud of or embarrassed by!

Blogging has helped me clarify my thoughts, explore my opinions, vent my frustrations, ponder my place in the Universe and meet some clever, charming, funny and just plain strange people!!

So without further ado.. my first foray into the blog-o-sphere...

Parenting and other sins

It seems just about everything we do with our children is causing them harm these days, doesn't it? Let them watch 10 minutes of Dora warbling away so you can have a shower, oops, you've stunted their IQ. Don't let them see a TV until they're 16, oh, you deprived them of so much educational opportunity! Smack them, you're a monster, don't smack them, they'll turn into little monsters themselves.

Is it just me, or have we lost our common sense? We are so desperate to "get it right", that we'll listen to anyone with an opinion, regardless of whether they have any expertise or, more importantly, any children themselves.

One of the hardest things I had to get used to when I had my Gorgeous Girl, was that loss of confidence in myself. I went from someone who was very good at my job, had clear opinions on pretty much everything, and felt capable to take on anything. Then I had GG and realised that I knew nothing. My most important job, and I had no qualifications, no experience (Irealised quickly nieces/nephews and friend's kids do not, in fact, give you a "taste" of parenthood) and no confidence in my ability. Luckily, I quickly regained my confidence that I was the best person to take care of GG, and I like to think I've done a pretty good job so far. She's certainly so delightful it makes it easy to think so.

I'm also lucky in that I have a lot of family support, and that they've respected the parenting decisions I've made, even if they haven't agreed with them. Big lucky there.

Trolling around on the internet (where I do all my important research), I noticed something... In our grandparents era, strictness was Godliness. Babies were to conform to a sleep routine, play mostly by themselves in a playpen or cot with just a few basic toys, and believe it or not, formula was seen as a scientific improvement on breastmilk. Then the pendulum seems to have swung the other way, and it was the complete opposite, feed on demand, and it better be breastmilk, sleep in a family bed, wear your baby in a sling and be at their beck and call within seconds of every whimper. Phew.

Could it be that this pendulum is still swinging, even if the arcs are getting smaller? When will we get to the middle ground, where parents feel they can make decisions about their own family and others will say "Great, glad it works for you." Obviously, some decisions are never OK - smoking when pregnant, abuse, driving drunk and getting 3 yr olds high are always going to be big no-no's, but really, is a bit of TV really so bad for kids? Will every child who has been allowed a bit of ice-cream be obese at age 30? Will a smack on a nappy-padded bottom by a loving parent really scar you for life?

I'd love to hear what you think...

There you have it folks. Oh, and if you're reading this, tag, you're it!!

"Ham, chicken thighs and public humiliation please"

2010-04-29T20:20:00.005+10:00

I've entered into yet another new territory in Parent-land. The one where you find yourself hissing at your child to shh-be-quiet-yes-I-know-but-for-the-love-of-God-just-please-shut-up!

Don't you love each and every new phase that comes along as your little one grows and flourishes under your tender care? Yeah, me neither.

So GG is about to turn 3 in May, and her talking is getting really good, full sentences, very clear and she is a real chatterbox. She's also getting so clear that complete strangers can understand her, and herein lies the problem.

Yesterday, we had a carpenter come to fix some cupboards in the kitchen. GG spend the whole time glaring at him suspiciously and loudly asking, "Mummy, who is that man?" "What's he doing?" "Why is he wrecking the kitchen Mummy?" "Does he need a timeout?" Luckily the guy was lovely and thought she was hilarious.

Then today at the deli counter in Coles, just as the young guy behind the counter took our number, GG yelled out, "Mummy, that man looks like Merlin!!"

1. Truth be told, he really did, all ears and dark dorky hair, but they aren't really qualities most people want brought to public attention.

2. Yes, GG watches Merlin. Sub-prime parenting I realise, but something about it really catches her attention, she will sit and watch a whole episode, and she never sits still. When I ask her if she finds any part scary, she looks at me with derision and says, "It's just pretend Mummy".

So back to the weird-lookin kid. I think he missed it the first time, but GG kept saying it, over and over, louder and louder. I muttered under my breath, "Uh-huh, that's nice honey, oh look over there!" but she wasn't to be deterred. "But he really does Mummy! He looks just like Merlin!"

As I am trying to shush her, and looking around wildly at the other customers sniggering behind their hands, I glance up and lock eyes with the guy. "Did she just say I looked like Merlin?"

"Ummm, well, yes but if it makes you feel any better, she really likes Merlin. And of course she means the young version, you know from the TV show - not the old guy with the beard, I mean of course not, you don't have a beard do you AHAHAHAHA". (Okay, so I babble when I'm nervous.)

He turns to address GG, "Cool, I like Merlin too. Do you want a cheerio?"

Needless to say, GG's in love.

Lest We Forget

2010-04-25T07:46:00.002+10:00

Today is Anzac Day, where we commemorate and pay respect to all Australian and New Zealand soldiers, especially those who have given their lives in defense of the country. It was originally a day of rememberance specifically for the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps bloody and terrible landing at Gallipoli during the First World War, the first major military operation for our country.

One thing that always comes to mind to me on Anzac Day, and always gets me emotional any other time I hear it, is the Song I was Only 19, by the band Redgum. It was written by the band's singer, John Schuman, based on personal experiences of his brother-in-law and other returned veterans who served in the Vietnam war. I've embedded a clip and the lyrics below.

I WAS ONLY NINETEEN
Music and Lyrics by John Schuman, performed by Redgum.

Mum and Dad and Denny saw the passing-out parade at Puckapunyal
It was a long march from cadets.
The sixth battalion was the next to tour
And it was me who drew the card.
We did Canungra, Shoalwater before we left.

And Townsville lined the footpaths as we marched down to the quay
This clipping from the paper shows us young and strong and clean.
And there's me in my slouch hat with my SLR and greens.
God help me, I was only nineteen.

From Vung Tau, riding Chinooks, to the dust at Nui Dat
I'd been in and out of choppers now for months.
But we made our tents a home, VB and pinups on the lockers
And an Asian orange sunset through the scrub.

And can you tell me, doctor, why I still can't get to sleep?
And nighttime's just a jungle dark and a barking M16?
And what's this rash that comes and goes
Can you tell me what it means?
God help me, I was only nineteen

A four-week operation
When each step could mean your last one on two legs
It was a war within yourself
But you wouldn't let your mates down till they had you dusted off
So you closed your eyes and thought about something else.

Then someone yelled out "Contact!"; and the bloke behind me swore
We hooked in there for hours, then a God almighty roar
And Frankie kicked a mine the day that mankind kicked the moon,
God help me, he was going home in June.

I can still see Frankie, drinking tinnies in the Grand Hotel
On a thirty-six hour rec leave in Vung Tau
And I can still hear Frankie, lying screaming in the jungle
Till the morphine came and killed the bloody row

And the Anzac legends didn't mention mud and blood and tears
And the stories that my father told me never seemed quite real.
I caught some pieces in my back that I didn't even feel
God help me, I was only nineteen

And can you tell me, doctor, why I still can't get to sleep?
And why the Channel Seven chopper chills me to my feet?
And what's this rash that comes and goes
can you tell me what it means?
God help me, I was only nineteen

Are you there God? Can you put Buddha on the phone?

2010-04-22T19:01:00.004+10:00

I've been thinking a lot lately about my spirituality and faith. Ever since someone called me out during one of those deep and meaningful conversations that take place over a bottle or three of good red.

When asked to clarify my position on God and religousness (religosity??), I found it very difficult. I was raised and christened into the Uniting Church, kind of a blend of Methodist and Presbyterian, and still feel a pull to go to Church during holidays like Easter and Christmas and take part in those timeless rituals, but find it increasingly difficult to limit myself to this definition. I have never believed in the Bible as a literal interpretation of the word of God, I think we need to remember it has been written and re-written again and again by mere men. Okay sure, they were kings and what not, but still just men, and they surely had their own agenda, right?

And how can I ignore evolution? Sure Adam and Eve is a nice story, helps explain away how God can let all the tragic things in the world happen... "Hey, don't blame me, blame those two, they ruined Paradise for you" but we have pretty conclusive proof that dinosaurs did in fact roam the earth. Oh, and thanks for making woman the downfall of humanity, that hasn't affected us through the centuries at all.

I also don't like the judgement that comes along with organised religion. Take for instance homosexuality. I have very dear friends who are gay, and if I were to take Christianity's teachings to heart, I would have to believe that not only should they not be allowed to get married, but that they as people aren't right, and are "afflicted" in some way. This is patently ridiculous. Quite apart from the fact that they are some of the most genuinely warm, fun, thoughtful and lovely people I've ever known, imagine being told by some stuffy organisation that who you are as a person, how you think, how you feel and who you love, no matter how good a person you are, is wrong and you are damned for all eternity. Not exactly the limitless love and tolerance they preach about is it?

Then of course there are the countless wars waged in the name of religion, and it's contribution to poverty worldwide. Look at the Catholic third world nations. Barely enough food to feed the children they already have, some out of touch old man with no knowledge of life in their shoes tells them that it's a sin to use contraception, thereby keeping the family growing, and even hungrier. Not to mention the battered wives who won't leave their abusive husband because getting a divorce will send them to hell. Like they're not already there.

And I just can't get my head around the thought that Christianity is supposed to be the one true faith. I'm currently reading a bit about Buddhism, and find a lot of the teachings resonate with me, it seems a very beautiful, gentle and loving pursuit of personal serenity, enlightenment and acceptance of others. It just doesn't seem right - are we supposed to believe that just because they don't believe what others do, these light-filled souls would be damned to Hell?

So I am increasingly taking a kind of 'Pick n Mix' approach, which I can't decide whether is just a bit of a cop-out because I haven't the cojones to pick a religion and stick to it, or an intelligent decision to focus on spirituality and enlightenment rather than a list of dogmatic rules. The jury is still out. I am still a work in progress in many ways, most certainly in respect to my spiritulaity. But what I think is important is that I am searching, asking questions, and seeking that feeling of enlightenment. What's that saying the Jewish have? "Knowledge is Light", and at least I'm looking for the light switch.

I certainly believe in a higher power, who I choose to call God, but am slowly starting to think of more as "the Universe". I believe in prayer, but couldn't prayer also just be a wish made to the universe and fulfilled by our very desire to make it so? It's been proven that sub-atomic particles will behave differently in situations during which they are observed by humans, rather than just recorded, so in quantum mechanic-speak, we know that human intention can change the outcome of the physical world, at least on a sub-atomic level. Why not on a grand scale?

What if all the organised religions in the world, Christianity, Buddhism, Judaism, Hindu, Shinto, Muslim, Jedi, what have you, all started from different people, with different cultural histories, all attempting to define the same feeling. The feeling that there is something greater than ourselves, an order to the Universe that is just beyond the grasp of our feeble human minds, and that if we could just explain it, have it make sense to us, maybe if we could earn it by behaving better and treating each other better, then we would glimpse Paradise, Heaven, Nirvana??

Having just re-read this, I am not changing anything, but I feel I've been a little harsh and negative about organised religion, especially Christianity. I don't want to offend anyone, or tell they are wrong to believe a certain way. This is just my personal search for meaning, if you've found it, through whatever religion, and believe deeply in it, and gain comfort from it, well than, I envy you that and wish you all the best. Namaste.

Bad Mummy Diaries: Part Two

2010-04-11T20:42:00.003+10:00

I don't have a lot of bad habits these days. I've stopped smoking, I don't drink that much, I don't do drugs and I only occassionally binge myself into a choc-coma. I do however, swear. Quite a bit. So fucking sue me.

However, in an effort to be a better mother, I try not to swear in front of GG. Mostly, I succeed. There was the time I shot myself in the foot by exclaiming to my husband that "parking will be a bitch in the city". Guess which word GG choose to pick up out of that? Parenting: fail. Although we did kind of manage to kind of convince her I said "beach". Kind of.

Anyprofanity, in an effort to not swear so much, I have had to radically alter my lingo when behind the wheel of my car. This is when you are most likely to to hear a litany of just about every swear you can think of (yes, once I even shocked myself when I used the C word). Hey, don't blame me, blame the fucktards who got their licence out of a cereal box. Now however, when GG is in the car, I have re-programmed myself to say the word "muppet" in place of the more colourful words in my vocabulary. "It's called merging! Ever heard of it? You MUPPET!!!!" You get the picture.

So the other day, we are all having quality family time in front of the TV (shut up, is so not an oxymoron) and GG happens to see an ad with these weird fruit-humaniod amalgam puppets in it. When she asked her Dad what on Earth they were, he replied with, "They're sort of puppets, you know like Fraggle Rock, or The Muppets?"

GG pipes up, "No, Daddy, muppets drive cars and make Mummy cranky!".

Turns out there's a lot my husband can say with just a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

That's one step closer to world domination!

2010-04-10T13:22:00.004+10:00

I've been featured by the gracious Sharni on her wonderful site Sharnanigans as part of a new regular feature: Friday Fertilisers. The title refers to her site's motto, "...the grass isn't greener on the other side, it's greener where you water it.." well, that or she's refering to the amount of "fertiliser" I regularly spout on this little blog of mine!

Sharni started blogging around the same time as me, and has gone on to create her own website full of life lessons, interviews with inspirational and funny people like Alice Grist, Jane Kennedy and Wil Anderson. It's a site of explorations: she explores her new mama-hood, her spirituality and life as a big city gal adjusting to life in a tiny One Horse Town.

I highly recommend you go check her out, there's lots to explore over there!

After reading Sharni's impressions of this blog (and it's ~~superawesome~~ modest author), I've realised that maybe I'm closer to my goal of being more Zen and philosophical, rather than the neurotic mess who over analyses everything that I used to be, and am trying very hard not to be anymore.

It's funny how sometimes when you see yourself reflected back from another person's perspective, the view is better than from inside your own head. :)

I've also realised that I was right to question the name of my blog, I did wonder back at the time whether it was a bit too "huh?", but I have always loved the description of the word; wildly impractical and romantic, given to flights of fancy. Plus I regularly find myself "tilting at windmills" when I gnash teeth and rail against everything from corporate media and truth in advertising to why do they make those darn Rice Wheel packets so hard to open!!!

I also didn't want to be restricted to being "just" a Mummy blog, and it sounded suitably vague enough to cover whatever I may end up writing about!

So there's the story behind this blog's name - now go visit Sharnanigans and give her some love!

Do you want some porn with your petrol?

2010-04-08T14:54:00.005+10:00

An Australian Mum, Catherine Manning, founder of Say No 4 Kids, has appeared on a prime time Channel 7 current affairs show, The 7pm Project, Tuesday night (I know, I know, I wanted to post this earlier, but I wanted to get some research behind me before I started venting!) to speak about her petition to have adult magazines moved out of children’s eyeline in milk bars and service stations.

Some people are dismissing her as a wowser or a prude. I’m willing to bet those people don’t have kids. One such person who was clearly dismissive of these idea, and shame on him, was The 7pm Project’s panellist Steve Price, who was clearly dismissive of this idea and very condescending towards her. I am well aware it’s a journalist’s job to question stories, but he showed a very unprofessional personal bias, both during the interview and in the brief discussion afterwards. You can view the episode here. You want the 9 minute mark. You can contact Steve Price here... oh no, wait, seems Mr Tough Guy has no contact information anywhere on the web. I wonder why? He’s perfectly happy to dish out his opinion to all and sundry whether we want it or not, but isn’t willing to hear what we have to say in reply? Way to stand by your opinions, Mr Price.

Plus, I don’t think he was actually paying attention. Steve seemed under the impression she was worried about kids opening and reading the magazine, whereas in reality just the covers themselves are a problem. One argument made was that a seeing a woman in lingerie on the front of an adult magazine was the same as seeing a woman in a swimsuit. In other words, seeing this...

... was just the same as seeing this:

Uh-huh... right.

Apart from the fact I couldn’t agree with her more, I think she’s being pretty reasonable. She isn’t saying there’s anything wrong with selling the magazines, or adults buying them, she just wants them moved. Pretty tolerant actually, considering many child experts want them banned all together from these outlets and sold only in adult stores.

And she’s right, every time I go into a service station, there, right by the door, and usually right across from or beside the chocolate bars and lollies, are various women in various slutty poses, vacantly staring open-mouthed right at my knees. In other words, right at GG’s eyeline.

So why do we need to protect our kids from these magazines? Well, apart from the fact that the images and captions lead to some very uncomfortable questions ( “Why is that lady nudie rudie Mummy?” is one I’ve already had to deal with), they are part of an insidious sexualisation of children that is starting to permeate every aspect of popular culture these days.

In The Australia Institute’s discussion paper “Corporate Paedophilia, Sexualisation of Children in Australia” Emma Rush and Andrea La Nauze detail how the early exposure of sexual images helps in the “grooming” process paedophiles use to abuse young children, as well as the development of body image issues and eating disorders in young girls.

Various studies have also shown a link between exposure to pornographic images at a young age to paedophilia. One such study available online here.

To get more information on the group Say No 4 Kids, or to sign the petition, you can visit their website.

Techno-fatigue

2010-04-05T20:23:00.003+10:00

I've been daydreaming about living Amish lately. I think it's either a sign that technology in all its forms has been intruding in my life just that little bit too much lately, or I'm having an episode of some sort. I'm going to go with the former.

Lately, I have been feeling intruded upon when I'm out and my phone rings, I have been resenting my laptops insistent little blinking lights imperoiously wondering why I am ignoring it AGAIN when GG and I are snuggled on the couch reading.

Don't get me wrong, I still love my cute little laptop, and the mobile phone does come in very handy when I lock myself out of the house for the upteenth time or can't find my husband in Bunnings. And I do still seriously love blogging, even though I have been suffering with writers block for a bit now, both here and in the book.

But doesn't it all seem a bit much lately? We've got technology everywhere we go, in every facet of our lives. In the 60's the marketing hype was that the technological age was going to make life easier, and give us more leisure time, but it feels like it done the opposite. Now we are running around like over-caffinated ferrets, trying to keep up with our jobs, family and friends and all their associated voicemail, email, Facebook, MySpace, Twitter updates and the like. And part of this is great, I have friends, very good friends, far away who I have not seen for ages, or even spoken to on the phone in months, but still can stay in touch with, share photos of our children smeared in Easter chocolate and the like. The opposite is that I haven't hugged my best friend in yonks, but know that Jane Doe is having soup for dinner. Hold the presses.

Yesterday, Easter Sunday, my family and I all went down to a local park to spend the day together. Kids swung on swings, narrowly avoided permanent injury on the monkey bars and ran around screaming til the sugar wore off. Dogs ran, wrestled and swam til they dropped. Adults barbequed and chatted, even charming the people at the next gazebo over into using their camp oven to boil a kettle for us so we could have a cup of tea. Gold. We sat around talking, we sat around playing board games, we sat around swapping family stories we've all heard a million times before, but still crack up at when they are told. It was just a simple, relaxing, fun day. I didn't pick up my phone all day, I didn't even glance at my laptop. It was awesome.

So while technology is probably a very good thing all up, I have been craving a bit of space from it, a chance to enjoy the simple things in life, and connect with people face-to-face, rather than electronically, or in fact not at all if I feel like it. I have always been one of those people that need time alone to decompress, I am comfortable in my own company, and often simply 'forget' to take my phone with me places, just so I can toddle about on my own, with no interruptions.

As a kid I would often take off on my horse for the day, usually with a friend or two, but often alone, and just... ride around. Follow the trail, see where it went, swim in a creek, dry off laying around in the sun, saddle up again and wander on home just in time for tea. This was waaaay before mobile phones, if I ever got into trouble, I was on my own to figure it out for myself. But it was sheer bliss.

I have been reminicing about those days a lot lately, and no doubt they are fairly rose-tinted and romantacised, but they represent such a lovely thing don't they? Solitude, getting back to nature, living simply and working out how to get yourself home.

A Grand Decision

2010-03-30T17:39:00.003+10:00

All week I have been looking forward to having a day off work tomorrow, with 2 year old daughter GG still booked in at kindy. Imagine it!! A whole day, to do with as I please. To go to the shops and not have to enter into negotiations that would make General Ban Ki-moon envious just to be able to try on some clothes. To be able to sit in a cafe and tune out the entire world. To potter round at home and not have some little person creating a wake of chaos behind me as I tidy up. To watch an inappropriate movie on TV and have a shower long enough that I get to shave both legs. Ah, such lofty ideals I have, huh?

Well anyway, as an early Easter present, GG has one-upped me. We were at my Mum’s today for a quick visit as we passed, and she pipes up, “Anma (Grandma), I stay at your place tonight?”. Well, Mum was so chuffed that GG asked to stay of her own volition that she immediately agreed. Being the best Grandma in the world, she actually has everything GG (and six other babies) could possibly need, already at her house. Ever since GG was a tiny baby, she has had a fully stocked room for GG; the cot, playpen, clothes, nappies, bottles, toys, you name it! So all I needed to bring over was the little lady herself. It made it awfully easy to just pop in the car and go visit Grandma. I think that may have been part of her plan...

Anyscheme, I was also thrilled to hear GG ask to stay at her Grandmas. Not because it means a child-free night (although that’s a nice treat), but because I so very much want GG and her Grandma to have a close relationship. I was raised to be very close to all four of my Grandparents, my Mum’s parents lived just up the road and were always very interested in us all, and involved in our lives. They attended school events, watched us play sport, took us out places, had us over at their big old house, we’d even all go on big family holidays, just up to Brisbane, or even just the north end of the Coast, but the point was to be having fun together.

My Dad’s parents lived in a rural area just south of Brisbane, and had a farm with cows, chickens, dogs and the odd rabbit. Nan also bred pedigree Birman cats. My sister and I would spend half each of every school holiday with them, which I’m only just realising how hard it would’ve been for Nan, especially when we were little, but she was always a force to be reckoned with! My sister and I continued to go visit all the way through high school and even beyond, until they moved down to live with us, and then ultimately in a nursing home close by as they got older.

I may not have realised or appreciated it at the time, but a close bond with my Grandparents was invaluable to me growing up. It gave me a separate point of reference than my parents. It gave me people who would love me and spoil me and not concentrate quite so much on the rules that, by necessity, are not relaxed at home. They never undermined Mum or Dad, they always backed up any decision they made, but my Mum was smart enough to know that everyone needs to feel a little bit spoiled, and selfless enough to let that be done by other people.

I have often worried if GG feels she is being foisted off on Grandma sometimes, when Mummy is off doing other fun things. I know she loves her Grandma, Mum has been a big part of her life ever since she was a newborn. They do things together like go to Playgroup every Friday, and Mum has taken her to Play School and Dora concerts, but GG rarely gets a chance to choose to stay over – she is usually told she is going to stay at Grandmas, as a result of me having made plans. So I was really pleased to see GG seek out her company, and reassured that she does see spending time with her “Anma” as a treat, and a chance to be spoiled rotten. And I’m sure that the biscuits Grandma had just given GG in no way influenced her decision. :)

Have fun girls!!!

Quix-ology

2010-03-27T22:24:00.004+10:00

I saw this on Do I Really Wanna Blog and it says I HAVE to do it and because I ~~have no better ideas~~ am an obedient little thing... I'm doin' it!!

If you’re reading this, you’re tagged and you have to do it! Do it and title it with your name-ology.

FOODOLOGY:
What is your salad dressing of choice? None, but if pressed – Italian

What is your favourite sit-down restaurant? You mean there are places I can actually go eat and

stay seated the entire time?! Not jumping up and down getting a drink, clean fork, more food, no, not that bit, that bit, more, no more, no, now it’s too much... where are these places you speak of?

What is your favourite fast food restaurant? None really, but Asian is always a hit when I can’t face the prospect of cooking.

What food could you eat every day for two weeks and not get sick of? Nothing, I have a very small attention span. Oh wait!! Chocolate.

What are your pizza toppings of choice? The Moroccan lamb pizza done by Crust in Coolangatta – truly the BEST PIZZA EVER!!!

TECHNOLOGY:
How many televisions are in your house? 1

What colour mobile phone do you have? Pink

BIOLOGY:
Are you right-handed or left-handed? Left. All geniuses (and polar bears) are!

Have you ever had anything removed from your body? Yes, a child!!

What is the last heavy item you lifted? My 2 year old.

Have you ever been knocked unconscious? Yes. I also repeatedly bash myself all-but unconscious on the stupid clothesline crossbar thingy. Once I did it so hard that when my husband asked if I was okay all I said was, “I smell purple”.

Have you ever fainted? Also, repeatedly. I have always had low blood pressure, so whenever I got sick, I’d likely faint and swoon like an 18th century romance heroine. In my early 20’s I had some weird thing going on that whenever I got highly stressed, I passed out. Like when my boyfriend and I broke up in a club, and I passed out and they thought I was a junkie. Fun times, fun times...

BULLCRAPOLOGY:
If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die? No way!!

If you could change your name, what would you change it to? Princess Consuela Banana-Hammock. Points if you can name the reference.

How many pairs of flip flops do you own? 3 – and they’re thongs!!

Last person you talked to? My daughter, in the car after dropping hubby and mate at the footy.

FAVORITOLOGY:
Season? Spring.

Holiday? Anywhere I can swim up to a bar....

Day of the week? Sunday – it’s the only day hubby isn’t working!

Month? December – what’s not to love, Christmas, my birthday, New Years Eve and heaps more excuses to drink during the day!

Colour? Blue.

Drink? I’d love to name some trendy cocktail, or a snooty wine (like Penfolds Grange, which I’ve actually tried once... bliss!!!), but really, it’s probably a good cup of tea!

Alcoholic? Oh, insert trendy cocktail or snooty wine here! Actually, my current favourite tipple is Brown Brothers Moscato – retailing at around $10 – high flyer I am!!!

CURRENTOLOGY:
Missing someone? Hubby, at the footy. Grandparents, in heaven.

What are you listening to? My dog snoring. Seriously, I think I can see the walls bowing with each breath. SHUT UP!!!!.

What are you watching? The Castle is on in the background, making me giggle. “Tell him he’s dreamin!”

Worrying about? The usual, finances, the state of Sandra Bullock’s marriage, how on earth I’m going to fit everything I need to do in the time I have available to do it, should I have my lights off for Earth Hour or is it a pointless PR exercise given that the amount of power produced at the plants will be in no way affected by a few people turning their lights off for an hour, what the heck is wrong with that dog’s sinuses, will GG be terribly disrupted when I have to put her in the car later tonight to go pick up the guys from the footy, how am I going to get a scene from images in my head to words on a page for my book, what is that thing on my leg, what games can I come up with for my sister’s impending baby shower, seriously, what the hell is up with that dog!!!!

What’s the last movie you saw? In its entirety? Finding Nemo on TV the other night. In a cinema? Avatar.

Do you smile often? Probably, yeah.

If you could change your eye colour what would it be? Golden, because I’d be a good vampire. :)

What’s on your wish list for your birthday? A Dyson (yes, I’m a terrible romantic, as in – I’m terrible at being romantic).

Can you do a chin-up? Ah, probably not these days. Given that I still have a massive bruise under my bust from when I went to jump my own fence (to break into my own house because I had left my keys at home YET AGAIN!!!) because I didn’t jump quite high enough and didn’t have quite enough strength in my arms to straighten them and pull myself up so ended up giving my metal fence a massive chest bump and landing flat on my embarrassed ass!

Does the future make you more nervous or excited? A little from column A, a little from column B. Again, points for the reference.

Have you been in a car wreck? Well, I’ve been wrecked by a car.

Have you caused a car wreck? Only when I stop traffic with my fabulousness! *snort*

Do you have an accent? Yeah mate...Aussie!

Last time you cried? Can't remember but it probably wasn't that long ago.

Plans tonight? Finish this, read a few more blogs, stay awake long enough to pick up drunken boys and deliver them home, fall asleep, stay in that state for 8 continuous hours.

Have you ever felt like you hit rock bottom? Yep. Then I went further down.

Name three things you bought yesterday? Yesterday? Nothing. Today? Hair dye (vanity won – I’m going back to coppery brunette), Easter eggs and a latte.

Have you met someone who changed your life? Many, actually. I suppose if you really think about it, everybody you meet changes your life a bit, right?

For the better or worse? Some worse, most better.

How did you bring in the New Year? Umm... *looks down, shuffles foot*... asleep. I’m so totally an old nanna.

Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? Only way back, back to the future!

What songs do you sing in the shower? Whatever’s stuck in my head, or the “wash, wash; wash, wash your body” song I invented (sung to the tune of Metro Station’s Shake It) if GG is with me..

Have you held hands with someone today? My Gorgeous Gal.

Who was the last person you took a picture of? Predictably, my daughter.

Are most of the friends in your life new or old? Old friends, but I probably “speak” more often to my cyber-friends.

Do you like pulpy orange juice? Yes.

Last time you ate peanut butter and jelly? Well, jelly in this context is what Americans call jam I think, and it’s really an American thing. I think a bunch of us tried it as kids, but can’t remember.

What were you doing at 12 a.m. last night? Sleeping. Just before GG came in needing the stinky-est pull up in the world changed, and then decided she wasn’t going back to bed so slept instead on her “other” bed - which is a doona on the floor beside my bed.

What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up? Whose finger is up my nose?

My Kitchen May Be Bi-Polar

2010-03-23T13:04:00.003+10:00

Actually, my entire house is probably schizophrenic, given the mish-mash state it lives in now. The joys of juggling working outside and inside the home.

This morning I had one of those moments when one minute you're simply swiping off some crumbs from the toaster, the next your pulling apart that whole corner of the kitchen and scrubbing everything within an inch of it's life. I lifted up the toaster, and could've crumbed a bronto-burger with what was under there! And I swear I found intelligent life in the back corner...

Anymould, as usual the job needing to be done far outweighed the time I had to do it in, so I settled for a having half a clean kitchen and ran out the door.

On my return home, I marched into the kitchen ready to tackle the other bench... and.... made a cup of tea and fired up the laptop instead!!! Hey people, I said I found balance, not turned into Martha cold-dead-heart Stewart!

So, for your voyeristic pleasure...

Ah, order, peace and serenity...

Oh, good God, make it go away!

Ah well, maybe I'll get a burst of energy to tackle the rest shortly. Once I've put out the last load of laundry, put away yesterdays two loads, tidied the playroom, done the ironing, swept and mopped the floors and cleaned the bathrooms of course. Yeah, that'll happen.

Muse-ic for the Soul

2010-03-21T20:59:00.003+10:00

Yesterday, out of nowhere, I got an idea for a book. Even more amazingly, as I started sketching out my idea, it began fleshing itself out, giving me ways of connecting plotlines and characters. Whole conversations even started playing in my head, and my fingers were literally flying over the keyboard trying to keep up.

Now, my husband has been encouraging me to write a book for ages, but I have always been reticient. I started this blog as a little baby-step towards bringing writing into my life, but until now I have always struggled to build a whole book out of any idea I'd had. A book I'd want to read anyway.

I sat down last night and wrote, and wrote, and wrote. I hit a bit of a snag on my main characters occupation, I really liked it, but couldn't find a way to make it work with a plotline I wanted to follow later on. After ~~obsessing over~~ sleeping on it, I woke up this morning with a solution and have been re-writing since. I was sad to see my first part go, mainly because it was the first section I'd written, but also because it had some great dialouge. I'm hoping to use it elsewhere, but much happier overall with how the pieces fit now.

This whole thing has got me well, very excited actually, but also thinking about muses, inspiration and the writing process in general. I used to think that people were being vague and a bit 'airy-fairy' when I would hear them talk about the 'process' and 'letting a story reveal itself' and so on. The thought of a story wafting around in the ether, waiting to show itself to some unsuspecting writer seemed a bit daft to me. But the way this idea seemed to take on a life of its own has got me re-thinking that idea.

It's a little bit like what I have seen Elizabeth Gilbert talk about, as shown in the clip below - it's a bit lengthy, but well worth a look:

Did you watch it? No? Yeah, I tend to skip them too. Basically, she talks about how the ancient Romans believed that people themselves weren't geniuses (geni??), rather they had a genuis, sort of like this divine attendant spirit, visiting them and bestowing gifts of creativity and inspiration. Kind of what we call muses now. Or, as Elizabeth puts it, a bit like Dobby the House Elf.

I sort of get what she is talking about now. It certainly felt like this story was being fed to me, rather than dredged up from inside me.

It's funny really, all my life I have lived very much in my imagination, but only now am I realising that perhaps these daydreams might translate into something else. Perhaps they are my own little house elf's way of inspiring me. Either way, I think the obsessive side of my nature has come back to the fore. My Mum dropped in for a visit today just after hubby and GG had gone to the shops, and I was desperately trying to get down a description of a scene that had just come to me before I lost it. I "sshhh!!!"'d her and wouldn't let her speak to me til I'd got it down. Nice, huh?

Hmm... looks like some fun times for my family coming up!!!

Dory Time

2010-03-20T20:13:00.004+10:00

I've been watching Finding Nemo with my Gorgeous Gal, and thinking about Dory. You know, the scatter-brained blue fish with the three second memory.

Years ago, way before I had GG, my Mum and sister saw Finding Nemo with another young family member, and promptly started calling me Dory. I, having no idea what the hell they were on about, rolled my eyes and ignored them. Then, I watched the movie and realised that Dory was umm.. Dory. I would've been a bit miffed, and taken the issue up with them, but I got distracted by something shiny and then forgot all about it.

Watching the movie again though (actually, for about the millionth time), I have decided that being Dory is a good thing. I think she has a lot to teach us.

Like staying in the moment. Forget the bad stuff that's happened, heck, forget the good stuff in the past too. It's the past, gone. Just concentrate on here, and now.

Just keep swimming. Sometimes, that's all we can do. When life gets tough, and things have got you down, what can you do? Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming. Keep going, and have faith that something better is just around the corner.

Take your joy where you can get it. Whether it's making a game out of escaping a jellyfish cloud, or riding the waves in a whale's mouth while waiting to find out of you're going to be eaten or not, grab every opportunity for fun. It just might be your last.

Dory also teaches us that it's good to be open to life's adventures. When Nemo's Dad tells her that he promised he'd "never let anything happen" to Nemo, Dory reminds him that "if you never let anything happen to him, then nothing will ever happen to him. Not much fun for little Nemo". Well, she gets his name wrong, but you get the idea. It's a fine line between giving your children protection and independence, but we need to remember that we can't keep our children in bubble wrap forever. Mainly because they couldn't breathe!

And of course, a second language is always handy. Even if it's whale.

Thhhaaaaaaaaaaaank yooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!

Welcome back, Kotter

2010-03-19T21:36:00.005+10:00

Well, thanks everyone for your prayers, thoughts and emails. Dad came home today and is doing really well, swears he is off the ciggies now (he'd better be - I'd hate to see him try and smoke after I've chopped both his hands off!!) and has a bunch of follow up referrals to chase up, but should be 100% very soon.

Thank God I don't have to schlep all the way down to the hospital anymore, if I see one more pregnant teenager smoking on the sidewalk, I might think I've moved to Inala.

Actually, through thorough and exhaustive socio-economic studies, I have compiled a detailed list to help people identify whether or not they may be... a bogan. (For international readers, a bogan is the Australian equivalent of a redneck, a yobbo, a chav, white-trash etc., etc.)

Are you ready? It's quite comprehensive, so go grab a cuppa or something. Ready? Okay.

You are a bogan if...

... you live in Tweed Heads.

The End.

Balancing Act

2010-03-16T14:06:00.003+10:00

So you've probably noticed that I've not been posting as much.

Part of this is because I've been busy, but hey! Mums are always busy and it didn't stop me in the early days of my blog-addiction from getting out of bed at 1 in the morning after I'd just had an awesome idea for a post and didn't want to forget it. Yes, that actually happened... I'm not sure if I'm proud or ashamed of that... hmm...

Part of it is because I have been suffering from a distinct lack of inspiration and a significant dearth of post topics. Hmm.. could it be that I have finally got everything of my chest?? Heavens no, I'm much more opinionated than that - something is bound to piss me off soon, and I'll race to the laptop to frantically pound on the keyboard til the bad feelings go away.

I think mostly though, I have found (gulp) balance. That elusive middle ground that exists in between the very addictive nature I have, which had me gleefully grabbing the laptop the very second GG had gone to sleep or was otherwise occupied, and the guilt I used to feel when I ignored things that needed doing around the house, or even convinced GG to play by herself or watch a DVD so I could get that post that was scratching the inside of my head out there.

I have recently gone from two days a week to three at work, and am really noticing the difference. So is my house. I have a lovely little vegetable garden, which used to give me so much satisfaction when I would bring in my home-grown organic food to feed my family, but my last harvest was a couple of months ago, and I am yet to re-plant anything. This is partly because of the scorching summer we have just had, and partly because everything needs to be pulled out, turned over, re-planted and re-mulched, and it's kind of a daunting job.

I have also noticed that even though I am away from my Gorgeous Gal an extra day, on the days I am home, I am much more engaged, and more likely to be found sitting on the floor playing. I know she still has me four days week, and of course every morning and night-time, but sometimes I really feel like I’m not getting much time with her, and so I find it easier to be patient and calm, as well as fun and playful, and just drink in the time we have together, just us.

So now the pull of the blog-o-sphere isn't so strong; GG is getting more quality time, I will eventually sort out both my garden and the laundry pile and balance has been restored to my universe. Looks like the only person missing out is... you, dear reader.

Things I've Learned in Life

2010-03-14T21:42:00.003+10:00

1. No matter how loud you yell at it, laundry does not put itself away.

2. You can please some of the people all the time, and even all of the people some of the time, but you can’t please all the people all the time.

3. You need to make very clear to husbands that the ‘no metal in the microwave’ rule also applies to alfoil.

4. You cannot control what people do, even the things that make you crazy, but you can control how you react to them.

5. Everyone you feel envious of has things in their life you would never wish for.

6. Be DAMNED careful what you wish for.

7. Money won’t make you happy, but a lack of money sure as hell doesn’t either.

8. You will always, always, always run into ex-boyfriends, high school crushes and potential employers when you look like crap. I’ve done all three, and I think I was wearing the same pair of sweats for all three!

9. Ironically, shampoo stains carpet, and doesn’t clean it. It will also foam to roughly the size of Uluru if you try and clean it up using a wet cloth.

10. Some days are just shitty.

11. Some days, just smelling your daughter’s hair, damp from the bath as she snuggles up for a cuddle, can make a shitty day disappear and your heart smile.

AWOL

2010-03-12T07:08:00.003+10:00

I have not been abducted by aliens, witnessed the killing of an organised crime boss and gone into the Witness Relocation Program, or been invited to take part in the latest space shuttle misson.

I've just been, really, really busy lately, and super, extra-than-normal, scientists-may-need-to-study-me tired.

Quixotic will return to normal programming very shortly - after I've dealt with a weekend that involves parents-in-law visiting, finding a birthday present for one half of the aforementioned parents-in-law, making a birthday cake and dinner, convincing hubby to just pick a damn cafe already to all go out to breakfast in, trying to attend the christening of a good friend's children on the other end of the Coast, keeping the mud all throughout the yard of both the child and dog (and therefore my carpets, lounge and floors), doing an entire weeks' worth of washing in the about 25 seconds of sun we are likely to get and somehow trying not to scream.

Memoir Monday: So You Think You Can Dance

2010-03-08T15:50:00.005+10:00

Hooray! I finally made it back on Travis' bandwagon - check it out here to see more fabulous, outrageous and most importantly, true stories.

This little memoir is actually about my wedding day. Don't worry, it's not going to be one of those sappy "oh, I wasn't complete until the day I married this man" schmaltz (although it was one of the best days of my life)... it's more about how I get drunk and forget stuff.

Anybubbles, you know the recent trend for having awesome dance routines for your first dance as a married couple? I totally started that! You see, in the lead up to our wedding, back in 2005, we (read: I) decided we were going to have a proper first dance. Yessir, none of that awkward shuffling with hubby's hand on your ass for me, uh huh! We were going to dance! And spin! And twirl! The day I mentioned the possibility of a Dirty Dancing style-lift was when hubby-to-be put his foot down. Spoilsport.

So we picked out "our song", and trotted off to the Dance Instructor. She choose a fox-trot based dance as the best to fit our music, and started teaching us the basic steps. Awesome. Then she decided that we should have a little routine done for us, so that we wouldn't just be doing very stylish circles around and around and around. Even awesomer. She choreographed a little routine for us and started teaching it to us (this is why now, when So You Think You Can Dance comes on TV, I can totally talk with absolute expertise about "picking up the chory"; "feet, feet!!" and other techy-lingo type stuff! *snort*).

All going well so far, wouldn't you agree, hubby-to-be and I dancing blissfully in each others arms (counting to ourselves the whole time, but blissful nonetheless), wedding plans well on track, all good.

Of course, me being me, while rushing out of work , late for another friends wedding two weeks before ours, I trip, fall down the steps (when will I learn, Stairs Are Not My Friend) and badly sprain my ankle.

Oh man, it was a bad one too, let me tell you. Mainly because I simply strapped it up with some tape from the first aid kit and went as planned to the wedding. Four hours and a lot of champagne and hobbling later, I am in the emergency room, getting my stockings cut off my ankle (which is now the size of a watermelon) and a Doctor is explaining why injuries, alcohol and especially painkillers do not all get along together. Bastard wouldn't give me any drugs til I sobered up apparently.

Over the next two weeks, I panicked, went to the physio, yelled at caterers etc. on the phone, panicked and went to the physio. On my first visit, they told me there was no way I was going to be able to dance on that ankle, maybe not even walk on it. By the day before the wedding, I could walk on it (while it was strapped), but had missed the last two dance lessons, which was where we "put together" the whole routine, with it's begining, middle and flourishy little this-way-that-way-slide-and-dip ending. I watched from the sidelines, while the intructor taught hubby, since at least the guy leading would know the routine. Hubby claimed he had no faith in his ability to remember this, dancing wasn't really his thing. So I paid close attention, I even took notes for God's sake! Little drawings of stick figures in various poses. I had the whole thing memorised, I was down with the turns, and knew the ending down pat. I figured it was all up to me to remember this, because hubby was no good at this sort of stuff, he had said so himself, it was all up to me!!!

So, the wedding day arrives, and I am drinking champange with my bridesmaids at 6am. I have snuck out and bought a pair of silver strappy sandals, since my shoe of choice for the day had like a 6-inch heel, and I thought I might need some back-up! We are run off our feet, between hair, make-up, flowers arriving, photographer trying to get a look-in, the whoel box and dice. We are steadily chugging our way through the champagne, and even though my Mum was smart enough to bring some sandwiches up, and I was starving, between the busyness and my nerves, I never got around to actually eating anything.

We have the ceremony, and it's lovely, I managed to wear my high heels down the aisle without collapsing in a heap (thanks to a very strong arm to lean on from Dad), and then I swap to my sandals for the photos etc.

We arrive at the reception venue and it's awesome, but I'll just fast-forward to when the MC calls us out for our first dance. Between getting ready, all the toasting and various stuff, I have drunk pretty much my body weight in champagne (which has always made me a little light-headed) and eaten ummm... nothing. I'm smashed (but in a totally classy way - white dresses will do that to you). Hubby tows me out to the dance floor, and we hold each other. "Do you remember the routine?" he asks. I look at him like I'm trying to pick him out of a line-up (gee officer, I know the face, I just can't think where from), "ummmm...."

"Don't worry" he says, and proceeds to lead me, very expertly, around the floor. I start wincing when I use my sprained ankle, so he skips a couple of the turns and holds most of my weight for me, we come up the big finish and he quickly whispers, "Forget the left one, just do the turn to the right and I'll catch you". He does, and then he dips me. I am left dumbfounded, light-headed (I will NEVER admit to swooning, it was the champagne dammit!) and SERIOUSLY impressed. When did he learn how do do this?

Moral of the story? Stairs are not my friend, and marry a man who can lift your bodyweight.

What's in your private place?

2010-03-04T17:54:00.005+10:00

Calling all voyeurs, come take a look in a woman's most private place. No, not there, you gutter-minded swine, here - in her handbag!

Okay, I stole this idea from Allie at In A Beautiful Pea Green Boat. The idea is to photograph the contents of your handbag. You know how they say you can tell more about a woman by looking in her handbag than by talking to her for half an hour? Well, it took me roughly half an hour to catalouge everything in my bag! See that rather deflated looking handbag? It somehow, through a magical kink in the time/space continuum, manages to contain all the assorted detrius you see surrounding it...

Let's see, what have we got in there? Wallet, check; phone, check; keys, check; magical fairy wand, check. What, you don't have one??? There's also a dinosaur toy, a binkie (dummy) and a pair of size 3 knickers - this may be why, when I ended up having to dump the entire contents of my bag on the desk at the Nokia Service Centre to find my service card, I felt the need to assure the clerk at Nokia I was not in fact a child predator, just a harried Mum.

There are also sunnies for myself and GG, keys to my Mum's place, a face washer (I don't know either, it just sort of ended up in there), moist wipes (called Sticky Fingers - how cute is that!?!), a re-usable bag, a USB with photos on it I have been meaning to print out for approximately 3 years, notepads, pen, a sparkly glitter hair clip long been given up for lost, 45 cents worth of change, the garage door opener, tissues, Panadol, hand sanitiser, 3 receipts for things I can't remember buying, scraps of paper on them with either a phone number or an address, but no other identifying information, and a pack of snacks for ~~when I forgot to eat breakfast~~ GG. There are also 3 supposed all-day lipsticks in pretty much the same shade, but one is in the shade I wear, but has no clear gloss left, the other I don't really like the shade, but use the gloss with the other lipstick, and the other is a cherry gloss I wear on it's own. Oh, and lip balm, for when I'm not wearing make-up. No, I'm not as addicted to beauty products as it may seem, but I chew my lips when I'm stressed or confused.. and that's pretty much my default setting.

Oh, and my Justice of the Peace official stamp, inkpad and paraphanalia. Yes siree, I am OFFICIALLY an upstanding member of the community, responsible beyond reproach. (Unless, of course, I have been drinking, then I'm up for mischief and low level lawlessness. Absolutely.)

And of course, my Little Box of Tricks. I think this may need some explanation... You know when you find yourself saying, "Damn, I wish I had a safety pin/something to close this packet/Band Aid for my rubbing shoe/miniature pack of playing cards/sewing kit/tweezers/bit of superglue/hair band/something to take for this cold!" Well, I'm your go-to gal. I have it.

There is nothing the Box of Tricks can't fix. It once McGuyver'd a heli-plane out of pipe cleaners and duct tape to spirit me to freedom when lost in the Louisiana swamplands... okay, maybe not, but it's very bloody handy, especially when you break things a lot, like me!

You know, for someone so organised, you think I'd be more... well, organised.

So there you have it, I have laid my soul bare... and it's a far cry from when I used to sail out the door with nothing but a phone in one jeans pocket and a ATM card in the other... oh, the freedom...

So c'mon, tell me... what's in your private place???

Quick update

2010-03-02T22:11:00.003+10:00

Thanks everyone for your bloggy-love and to all those who emailed to ask how my Dad is doing. Who'd have thought my cold, impersonal laptop would give me such warm fuzzies!

Well, Dad had his operation today, and all went well. This afternoon they have been weaning him off his sedation, so he is slowly coming around. He is very groggy, and not able to communicate yet, which he is obviously finding, umm... frustrating, to say the least. I can only imagine.

Thanks everyone for your prayers, wishes, thoughts and positive vibes. We still have a long way to go, and no doubt my blog postings will be fewer (more like every few days) for the time being whilst I juggle work, hospital visits, running the house and covering every bloody spare bit of space in my house with laundry because THE BLOODY RAIN WON'T GO AWAY!!!! but rest assured, I won't give up my addiction that easy.

Oh, and speaking of addictions, those cigarettes are now in the bin.

Sunshine in the Downpour

2010-03-01T21:23:00.002+10:00

Well, it just won't stop raining here on the sunny Gold Coast. Hurumph.

In spite of all this drearyness, I have been nominated for a couple of bloggy awards, both with a Sunshine theme. To say these have brightened my day is like saying those mint-chip mini chocolate eggs are only a little bit addictive.

First up, the lovely Allie at In a Beautiful Pea Green Boat gave me this:

This is my first award for commenting, rather than my own blogging, so it was really nice to get that sort of appreciation. I know I myslef love to get comments, reassuring myself that people are actually interested, or at least amused, by what I have to say.

I have a lovely little "tribe" of regular commenters, and want to pass this award on to all of them, so hang in there... here we go:

Sharni @ Chronicles of Sharnia (or Sharnanigans)
Dual Mom @ We're at Dad's That Week
Gucci Mama @ Mama Still Wears Gucci
Katherine @ Lessons from the Monk I Married
Alex @ Whoa Mumma
Gun Diva @ Just Another Perfect Day
Caitlyn Nicholas
Krissa @ Halfasstic.com
Daffy @ Batcrap Crazy
Singed Wing Angel @ Angel Believes

I truly appreciate each and every comment I get, so bring it on ladies!!!

Then, just the other day, Gregory J at Living My Life, Whatever, gave me this:

Pretty huh? There's probalby a whole bunch of rules attached, but all I really want to do is say that to all those listed above, and these lovely blogs below, you bring a ray of sunshine to my blogosphere!

The Bad Moms Club
Alone in a Holy Land

Alrighty folks, I think that'll about do me, I now have about 7 hours of notifying to do, so if I miss you - Surprise!!!

Well, thanks very much U.N.E.

2010-02-28T20:00:00.005+10:00

So if the tension between stay-at-home mums and working Mums wasn't bad enough, that venerable institution, the University of New England has released a study that is sure to fan the flames.

They claim that mothers who work part-time have healthier children. Something about eating less junk food and watching less TV. Now, as a Mum who happens to work part-time, I'd love to accept this as universally true, but what rot! How on earth would these researchers know? Clearly these (no doubt Government funded) intellectual colossuses haven't been spending much time at my house. Since I've started working again, and especially since I've gone up to 3 days per week, GG has eaten a lot more pre-packaged or processed foods, simply because I often don't have time to cook dinner from scratch the days I work. As for TV, if it wasn't for Hi-5 DVDs, I'd never get ready in the morning!!

So now if you work full-time, outside the full time job all Mums have that is, or stay at home, you have fat, lazy kids huh? Gee, I love generalisations. And won't it be lovely to have this splashed about all over the media, we all know how they love responsible reporting, and care deeply about the feelings over Mothers all over the globe.

When are we going to realise that parenting is an individual pursuit, some are great at it, others notsomuch, but it has nothing to do with paid employment, marital status, socio-economic parameters, race, religion, creed or colour of toenail polish! Sheesh!

The sooner women stop focusing on what we are doing differently as parents, and focus on what we share, supporting each other instead of snidely judging the decisions of others to feel better about our own, the sooner we will rule the world. Or at least get paid maternity leave.

I'll C U

2010-02-26T20:56:00.004+10:00

My Dad's in hospital tonight. Heavily sedated in the ICU, being looked after by some awesome nurses.

He would hate all the fuss, he hates the idea of going to hospital (he's worried he might get sick). I don't really know how much info to put up, he's a pretty private guy. The upshot is he's pretty sick, he has been ill for months now, but at least now he's in the best place possible to get better. We're assured he will be okay, but he has a hard road in front of him, and is likely to be in hospital for a month or so. Hopefully this will encourage him to make some healthier lifestyle decisions (like give up the 2 pack a day smoking habit) when he gets home.

I am feeling really strange about this (yes, I know it's not all about me, but this is my blog right here). Of course I am worried for my Dad, and also worried for my Mum, who's worried for my Dad. And my sister. And.. well, you know, everyone. But I am also a bit angry at him, Dad never really gives his health priority, which I know is very much A Man Thing, but still. Then of course I feel guilty for being angry at him.

Before he was admitted, we were told he was finally convinced by his Doctor to go to hospital to get some tests. I though, "Good, about bloody time!" and was quite umm, blasé, I guess, about the whole thing. So he was meant to go Wednesday morning. Wednesday night I went to see him (he was still in the ER treatment room, waiting on a bed) after work, and was pretty stunned to see how sick he was. It's not like he'd been bouncing around like the Energiser Bunny at home, he'd been quite ill actually, but he looked miserable. And sicker. Shouldn't he look better? Maybe everyone looks sicker in hospital??

Then by the time I went to see him Thursday afternoon, he was in the ICU, unconscious, tubes and wires and what-not everywhere. I was okay at the hospital, and having a quick take-away dinner with Mum afterwards, I was more trying to figure out how okay she was, then on the car trip home... I certainly didn't feel blasé. I felt, shaky, anxious, guilty for being so la-de-dah before. Being the awesome decision maker that I am, I pulled into a servo in the middle of my teary moment and bought a pack of cigarettes (GG was at my Aunt's). Yes, that's me - my Dad is in hospital mainly because of the effects of smoking, I have given up (other than alcohol-related incidents) for a few years now, and what do I do, WHAT DO I GO AND BLOODY DO?!?!?!? Anypuff, I got home, had one, felt sick and threw the pack in the top junk cupboard. Then I berated my queasy self for being so stupid (so Mum, really, you don't need to bother).

And they'd shaved his beard. My Dad has always had a big, black beard (yes, he's a biker, no, he's not a pirate) and it was weird how different he looked without it. I can see his resemblance to his Mum now. It also made him look sort of vunerable. Mum tells me he once shaved it when I was a toddler and when I saw him I screamed, I didn't recognise him... it's kinda the same now. I don't recognise this vunerable, sick man, he doesn't look like my big, burly, Dad.

I'm going to write some more about my Dad, they kind of guy he is, and the lessons he taught me as a Dad, but I need a bit of time to get my head together. He is having an operation on Tuesday, and it would be pretty nice if you could send some positive vibes out for him. Thanks.

Product Review: Good Golly Miss Molly!

2010-02-25T13:56:00.005+10:00

Another product review today, and another addition to my online shopping addictions!

Molly Brown Desinger Girls Jewellery is a London-based online jewellery company that offers simple and stylish girls jewellery. What I really liked about it is the the ranges are suitable for girls from toddlers right up to teenagers, there is nothing twee or kitchy about them. Their website states that they are all about jewellery as keepsakes, to be kept and treasured from childhood through to adulthood, and I think they've pretty much nailed it.

Their range consists of sterling silver bracelets and necklaces which all bear their little paw-print logo tag, along with silver, enamel or gemstone charms that can be bought seperately to create personalised jewellery. Given that a Vogue magazine I flicked through recently had necklaces with multiple little charms featured heavily, I'd say they are right on the money for fashion-conscious girls (and their Mums!).

They also have a pearl range, called Pearly Girly...

C'mon, admit it, you've got your credit card out already haven't you?? No, just me then??

The website has a Pick and Mix feature, to make buying one necklace or bracelet and multiple charms easy, and they have Gift Guides, where you can select from headings like Birthdays, Bat Mitzvah, Posh Girls, Tomboys, etc. and see a range of jewellery that might suit.

You can even create a Wish List, and add your favourite items to it, and it even has space for you to leave comments (or heavily loaded hints) for family or friends.

A simple necklace with one enamel charm will cost from £40 - which works out to be about $AU68, or $US61, and onwards and upwards for different charms, until you get to the Pearly Girly necklace (£50), which with a love heart charm would cost £90 ($AU155, $US139).

Molly Brown ship worldwide, with postage costs to anywhere outside Europe at £18 ($AU31, $US28).

With these prices it is a little bit pricey for everyday, but certainly a good option for birthdays, a gift for a flower girl or a girls communion gift.

Hmmm... now who has a birthday in May, GG? :o)

Safe as Houses

2010-02-24T22:27:00.002+10:00

So I’m thinking of moving my family into a bomb shelter and throwing away the keys.

Honestly, it’s just getting so scary out there. First a 12 year old boy is stabbed in his schoolyard, then a little girl in Sydney is snatched from her home, horribly abused and left for dead. Then a little girl in Bundaberg is abducted and killed by a family friend. All in the last couple of weeks.

It’s a scary enough prospect keeping our children safe out there in the big wide world, but when we drop them off at school, we expect them to survive the day. When we tuck them into bed, we believe they are safe. Our homes are our sanctuary, our safe harbour in this sometimes rough sea of life, and it is a horrifying thought that this may not be so. I know of Mums who are now having their children sleep with them, just so they can be reassured that they are safe. I myself have a dog who sleeps inside, and has always been encouraged, not scolded, for barking or bringing to our attention people approaching the house. Now he is also encouraged to sleep near GG’s room. Luckily he is naturally very protective of GG, and loves being allowed to be near her. I also may or may not have re-connected GG’s baby monitor, just so I can hear what’s going on.

I have always had a tendency to worry, let my vivid imagination take off and concoct disastrous scenarios. I usually am able to shrug this off and even laugh at myself for my drama, but these recent tragedies play right into my strongest sense – maternal. There is nothing more precious to me than my child, and nothing more terrifying than the thought of her being hurt, or put in danger. It is our job to not only nurture and shape them, but protect them.

What’s scarier is trying to explain to our children why this is so. GG is only two, so I have kept her shielded from most of this, but even now, when we are out and about we have a talk that runs along the lines of, “You must stay with Mummy, so I know where you are and can keep you safe.” Safe from what is still fairly ambiguous. We have also started talking about Stranger Danger, but I sometimes struggle to find the right approach.

What about you, how much do you tell your children about the dangers in the world, and how do you say it to them?

Another dilemma...

2010-02-23T21:15:00.003+10:00

Once again, I find myself lying awake at night, dithering and obsessing over should I or shouldn't I do something.

Here's the story. Yesterday, while I was dropping GG at her kindy, I was really disappointed in the behaviour of one of the staff members. She's not GG's direct carer, but when they are all outside playing in the common area, she would possibly be responsible for supervising her, depending on whereabouts GG chooses to play.

What I'm dithering over is whether or not to speak to or email the Centre Manager and express my concern. To dob or chill out, basically.

Here's the situation. When I dropped GG off, this girl was responsible for overseeing the area outside GG's room, it's basically an enclosed outdoor room, minus one wall, which leads out to a big yard. Under her ~~lack of~~ care, two or three boys, including one school aged boy there for before school care, were throwing and frisbee-ing these rubber rings around. It doesn't sound like much, but they were flinging them pretty hard around the room where lots of the littler kids were playing (and where GG wanted to play, cos that's where her friends were).

Now, this chick couldn't have seemed less concerned with what was going on around her. Not only was she trying to get them to move outside, or stop all together, she was praising them!! "Oh, that's a big throw!" etc.

As I'm standing there wondering whether or not it's my place to say something to her or the boys, sure enough, a little boy gets hit smack in the face. He bursts into tears and after initally telling him, "Oops, you're okay, hop up, la-la-la" she ~~finally gets off her arse and~~ comes over and takes him inside to put some ice on his eye. She catches my eye as she passes and seems a little surprised to see me looking so clearly unimpressed.

The boys go on chucking the rings with abandon and I'm getting kind of pissed off now. Just then another carer arrives to start her day and takes in the situation.

I'm not sure what do say, so I settle for, "C'mon GG, we'll go play over there, these boys are playing too rough." (Yes, I do enjoy my passive-agressiveness, very much, thank you).

Carer Mark 2 immediately tells the boys to go down the back of the yard where there are less kids if they want to keep playing the game. "But whhhyyyyyy?" whinges School Boy. The words are out of my mouth before I even think, "Because you just hit one little kid, and I don't want you to hit my little girl." This is said with a bit of a growl that I just couldn't help.

Anyhoo, that's pretty much the deal, what I'm now torn over is whether or not to leave it there, both carers will be in no doubt as to my opinion, or whether to say something to the Centre Manager about how I am disappointed that the first girl didn't manage the boy's behaviour better and prevent anyone from getting hurt in the first place.

Now, I don't want to be the Fun Police, or the Whingey-Bitch Parent type, I'm usually pretty laid-back about the inevitable bumps and knocks kids get just doing what kids do, but I do think if I say something, maybe I will stop GG being the next kid who gets hurt unnecessarily. Am I out of line here? What would you do?

It's hard enough to leave your children in care, what if you don't trust the people who may be watching over them?

I joined the Party!!!

2010-02-22T21:23:00.003+10:00

I had a whole big deep and meaningful post I meant to write tonight, but I've binned it til tomorrow to rave about Zumba!!

I have been dithering for a little while about trying out this Latin dance based exercise class, after seeing the DVD's advertised on TV and then learning that there are classes held on the Gold Coast. I had been kinda wanting to try it, but figured it was the sort of thing you needed a friend to go along with. I had been thinking of asking my Aunt if she wanted to come along with me, but hadn't got around to it.

Then tonight she rang me while I was making dinner and asked if I wanted to come to a class with her... in an hours time.

Immediately, my mind filled with excuses... I had gotten a yucky blister on my heel walking the dog this afternoon, it was one of the only three nights in the whole week that my husband is home, GG was in a hell of a mood.. blah, blah, blah. STOP!! I heard all these excuses run through my head and I thought, "Stoppit!!! Just stop making excuses and Lose It Bitch!". So I said, "Yes".

I quickly finished dinner, threw plates in front of everyone, chucked on my gym gear and helped hubby bath a tired and clingy GG, who was not happy about her night's plans suddenly changing. Kind of understandable, she had been at kindy all day, only just get to see me, and I was flitting off again. But she took it pretty well when I told her she would get to hang out with Daddy, and waved me goodbye happily.

The class was held at a local school hall just a few minutes away, and it seemed like every woman aged 12-60 has gotten on the Zumba train. There we were, every age and shape (and, it later turned out, dancing ability). There was a bit of a buzz in the room, and some really infectious music playing.

Then the instructor jumped up on the stage. Now this lass was not a lithe little dancer type... she was a large girl with a belly built for belly-dancing, big curves and wobbly bits. Wow. This initially led me to believe I shouldn't have much trouble doing the class, despite all the warnings I had heard that it is the most intense cardio you'll ever do. I mean, tihs girl was bigger than me, I should be okay, right? I couldn't have been more wrong - this girl must be the fittest person alive!!! She had just finished a class a half an hour ago, and was back for more!! And let me tell you, I have NEVER sweated so much or had so much fun doing it!!!

She led us through a couple of basic moves and then cranked the music and off we went. I got some of the moves easily, notsomuch with others, but the energy in the room was fun, have-a-go, doesn't matter if you haven't got all the moves, just DON'T STOP MOVING BABY!!! There was lots of booty-shaking (with obilgatory whooping by the more seasoned Zumba-ers!!).

The music was so infectious, that every time I would grab a break for a drink of water or a quiet little heart attack, the music would lure me back on the floor - think Jai Ho, Push It and my favourite, Gasolina.

All up, I have never worked so hard, never sweated so much in public and am totally hooked! It didn't quite live up to the "party atmosphere" our instructor promised, what with the brightly lit school hall venue and distinct lack of margaritas, but it was fun, loud, girly and a bit like having a night out dancing, only there's no alcohol to dull your sense of how much work you're doing and there's no stopping to pash random cute boys (or was that just my clubbing days??).

Now, you'll have to excuse me... I need to go work on my Beyonce-esque booty-shaking skills...

New Kid on the Blocks

2010-02-19T21:09:00.003+10:00

I have mentioned before how it seems every time I join a group, be it an exercise class, book group or Scientology church (kidding!), I'm clearly the only person who isn't a long-standing member. It's a gift, I know.

With a few lovely exceptions, this has usually been A Bad Thing. An exlusive, alienating, dis-heartening thing that makes my jaw ache from all the gnashing and teeth clenching.

So today, I rocked up to a new gym I've found near work for a Body Pump class. They do casual visits so I can go and get the motivation and intensity I love from a class, without having to hand over my grocery money every week. I was quite psyched about starting this new class, so much so that I forgot about my weird genetic quirk that means I will always be the New Kid. Until, that is, I arrived 5 minutes late to class, finding the room jam-packed with hard-bodied ladies all moving in perfect unison. Shit!

First, I realised I was the pudgy-est girl in the room. Always fun. Then, I realised I would have to sidle my way past about 10 people to collect the weight bar, hand weights and step bench I would need.

Then, a miracle occured! The instructor noticed me dithering in the back corner, and gave me a friendly hello, then asked, "Can we set her up girls?". Two or three of the ladies proceeded to break routine, fetch the piece of equipment nearest them and bring it over to me. One even set my step bench up for me while I grabbed a bar. They smiled at me and waved off my delighted thank you. I just about fainted from shock!

Then, throughout the workout, the instructor would check in quickly to make sure I was familiar with the moves. Luckily I was a regular Pumper back in my 20's, and it all came back to me, so I didn't disgrace myself. Actually, I kept pace and did the whole class! Of course, now I am currently typing with my nose, as all my other muscles hurt to even think about.

I don't know if it the difference between this experience and 99% of the other experiences I've had with gyms and exercise groups is just luck, but I do know that this class and my Wednesday group (remember, the Council-run Fitness Group) are of the non-trendy, don't advertise on TV or sell their own branded merchandise gym varieties, and they are both on the Gold Coast, my hometown and pretty well-known for being laid-back and friendly. Any which way, I'll take it!

Product Review: Who doesn’t love them some gorgeous shoes?

2010-02-18T14:47:00.003+10:00

I have been looking everywhere for some nice shoes for Gorgeous Gal. She has a foot roughly the size of Texas, so it’s been a challenge! Everything is either too grown up, or the shoes I do like don’t have proper support or good soles. That’s what I get for having a two year old who is taller than some four year olds I know!! She has a great career ahead of her as a supermodel... or MPV for the Opals.

So it was with great serendipity that I found myself being offered a gig writing about kids shoes, in particular Start Rite shoes. Irritating spelling aside, they have some really lovely kids shoes, school shoes and some of the cutest little gumboots (wellies) I have ever seen – they even have some with little depth markers on the back for puddle-jumping competitions!!

You can shop online, and Start Rite even have something called Click ‘n’ Fit, where you can print out a graph and then upload a digital photo of your child’s foot on the graph to get the right size. Ihaven't tried this, but if you can get your child to stand still long enough to take a photo, it would be a good way to make sure your online purchase will fit once they arrive! Something I’ve been burned with in the past on eBay...

If online isn’t your cup of tea, you can find your local stockist through their site too. I’ve checked out their shoes in real life at my local Athlete’s Foot, and they seem very well made with good quality leather and stitching and, of course, they offer the correct support for those soft, growing feet. They didn’t have the style I wanted, though they had a good range of school shoes, so we will be ordering online.

In the interest of full disclosure, yes, I am being paid, not for this review, just for including the link, my opinions are exactly that – mine.

Is my cold, dark heart showing or...

2010-02-17T20:57:00.002+10:00

... is it just me thinking that the near death-by-semi incident with our favourite stuntmaster Tony Abbott was just a little too convienient??

I can picture it now....

Abbott: "Righto Bob, we're about to meet the press to talk about road safety and how the Government is doing a shite job and they need me to keep them safe."

Bob the Driver: "Yes ~~Mr Burns~~, I mean Mr Abbott".

Abbott: "Well, go ahead and get Ted the truckie on the walkie talkie, we need to co-ordinate it so he hits the skids right after all the journos fire up their cameras to catch us arriving".

Oh, it's a terrible burden being this jaded and cynical.. ;o)

A shot to the heart...

2010-02-16T20:03:00.003+10:00

"I don't like you Mummy".

I know, I know, kids do this all the time - she's only 2, and she's just rebelling against the feeling of powerlessness she feels when I tell her she has to do something she doesn't want to.

But Oh. My. Lord. I was not prepared for how much that hurt. Tears immediately pricked at my eyes and I gaped at her. My loving little girl, who usually wraps her arms around me tight and whispers, "Guess what? I LUB you!" had just uttered her first negative opinion of Mummy.

Until now, I was loved beyond reason, preferred over all others, brave, strong, wise and beautiful (yes, I asked). Now... notsomuch.

I was unsure how to proceed, I didn't want to make a big production out of it, but I did want her to know that words can have an effect on people.

"GG, it's okay to feel cranky sometimes, but when you say that, you hurt my feelings."

"You got a sore feelings? Where your feelings?"

"No, I mean what you said made me sad."

"You sad now?"

"Well, yeah, I am actually."

"Oh, you wanna cuddle?"

"Yes please."

"I sowwy Mama", she whispered as she gave me a cuddle.

She soon returned to her usual sunny self and we had a great day together. Then at dinner after GG had finished and was playing in the next room - I was telling my husband about this, in a very light manner (making fun of myself for getting upset). Obviously I was overheard, as she decided to toy with my emotions again. She appeared at my side (hmm.. where does she get that sneaky gene from?) and told me again, "I don't like you Mummy". This time delivered with a huge grin. Maybe she thought because she heard me talking about it and laughing, that it was going to be a new game between us. Uh, no thanks. I gave her a deadpan look and got up and walked away.

I hear my husband tell her, "Uh oh, that's not a very nice thing to say, what do you say to Mummy?"

"Mummy?", she calls out.

"Yes, GG?"

"Guess what?"

"What?"

"I LUB YOU!!!!!!!!"

More ads that annoy me...

2010-02-14T20:18:00.003+10:00

So after my little rant about Meadow Lea the other day, I have decided to share some other ads currently making me grind my teeth.

Apologies to anyone outside mainland Australia, but hey, just play some elevator musak and play along...

Allie from In a Beautiful Pea Green Boat mentioned a great one in her comment last week. It's an ad for baby formula - I think it's for Wyeth's S26 formula, but I can't be sure, and my cursory internet search failed to yield a result, so I give up! It starts of with a paediatrican (we know this because her name and quals are shown at the bottom of the screen) in a hospital hallway talking about how because of her job, she knows how important it is to provide the best nutrition to young babies... then she lovingly pats a baby on the head and strolls off... the baby's mother (we know this because her name and the title Mother are shown at the bottom of the screen) then continues talking about that's why she choose this particular formula. This ad gets to me because it makes it seem that the paed has recommended the formula. This is not so. The Mum does. Certainly there is an implied endorsement by the Doctor simply by being in the ad, but it's all just a little too "sleight-of-hand" for me.

Then there are the ads that aren't necessarily dodgy, just annoying...

First is the MBF Health Insurance ad that runs along the lines of "You need health insurance because somebody waxed the floor without telling you" and shows a guy sulking in a hospital bed in traction, while a girl smiles sheepishly at him and lavishes apologies on him... it just makes me feel like saying, "Oh crack the freaking sads then! D'ya need me to let you know when I've cleaned the windows too, so you don't stick your head straight through them you great clodding, clumsy prick!!! Geez... be glad you have someone willing to clean up after your filth in the first place!" But maybe that's just me...

Then there is pretty much anything advertising a "beauty" product. I'm sorry, but if you expect me to believe that you and you alone have discovered a new enzyme, protein or Martian lizard poo that will lift sagging skin, erase wrinkles like an iron and magically turn me into a vision of youthful loveliness despite my lack of sleep, busy life and complete disregard for sun protection, then you are as deluded as the poor saps who buy it.

Oh, and don't get me started on those "shouty" ads...

When you thought I wasn't looking...

2010-02-12T20:34:00.002+10:00

A message every adult should read because children
are watching you and doing as you do, not as you say.

When you thought I wasn't looking I saw you hang my
first painting on the refrigerator, and I immediately
wanted to paint another one.

When you thought I wasn't looking I saw you feed a
stray cat, and I learned that it was good to be kind
to animals.

When you thought I wasn't looking I saw you make my
favorite cake for me, and I learned that the little
things can be the special things in life.

When you thought I wasn't looking I heard you say a
prayer, and I knew that there is a God I could always
talk to, and I learned to trust in Him.

When you thought I wasn't looking I saw you make a
meal and take it to a friend who was sick, and I
learned that we all have to help take care of each other.

When you thought I wasn't looking I saw you take care
of our house and everyone in it, and I learned we have
to take care of what we are given.

When you thought I wasn't looking I saw how you
handled your responsibilities, even when you didn't
feel good, and I learned that I would have to be
responsible when I grow up.

When you thought I wasn't looking I saw tears come
from your eyes, and I learned that sometimes things
hurt, but it's all right to cry.

When you thought I wasn't looking I saw that you
cared, and I wanted to be everything that I could be..

When you thought I wasn't looking I learned most of
life's lessons that I need to know to be a good and
productive person when I grow up.

When you thought I wasn't looking I looked at you and
wanted to say,'Thanks for all the things I saw when
you thought I wasn't looking.'

Oh, the unspeakable glamour of my life...

2010-02-11T20:00:00.004+10:00

Here's two words you DON'T want to hear in the same sentence: "spilled" and "poo".

My Gorgeous Gal, who will be 3 in May, has recently started taking herself off to the toilet and can complete the whole process independently (yay!) as long as she's not wearing tricky buttoned shorts etc. This is usually A Good Thing.

Today, notsomuch.

While I was out at the clothesline earlier this afternoon, I heard a very upset GG call me in. So I head inside and ask her, "What happened?".

"I spilled some poo-poo".

I had initially been a little sun-dazzled when I walked inside, and couldn't see properly, so I thought to myself, "Oh, no worries, I'll just pick up the poo, and grab some of those nifty disinfectant floor wipes I found at the shops."

What lay before me when I rounded the corner into the bathroom will give the non-parents reading (if they made in this far, in fact) nightmares. GG had obviously eaten something that didn't agree with her, and had, being the very good girl she is, taken herself to the loo to take care of the situation. The fact she didn't quite make it is not her fault. The fact that half her digestive tract exploded all over the toilet and adjoining powder room floor is not her fault. Nonetheless, this incident scared her, and what do 2 year old little girls do when they're scared?

Yep....

They run away...

Down the (carpeted) hallway.

Sigh.

So here's the situation before me... GG, who I can now see has runny poos running down her leg, standing in the bathroom, pointing at a sight straight out of a Steven King novel. She's also pretty upset.

I assure GG it's okay, it's not her fault, don't worry, we'll sort it out and clean it up, lickety-split. all while I am thinking "How on Earth am I going to clean this up, where do I even start? Screw it, we'll have to move."

So I pick GG up and hover-carry her into the bath, hose her off with one of those little rubber hose things, put her in the shower while I clean the bath, run a bath, put her in that to splash and play while I spot-spray the carpet, use a forest worth of paper towel wiping up the floor, door, behind the door (WTF!??! How'd it get there?), toilet bowl, behind the toilet bowl, sling the bathmat into some Napi-San, clean the carpet, disinfect the aforementioned surfaces, mop the floor and shower floor for good measure.

You know what really freaks me out?

That none of this freaked me out. I mean, isn't that just a little bit weird? Before kids, I wasn't exactly prissy - I remember being half-way through assisting a vet operating to spay a collie and asking to go to lunch when we were done - but cleaning a poo-covered room would definitely have rated on my gag-ometer. Now, nuthin'.

I have been de-sensitised by the cumulative bucketloads of bodily functions I have had thrown up on me, leaked onto me and squirted at me. They start you off with those (comparatively) innocuous newborn poos and milky vom-voms and gradually get you to the point where vomit all over your sheepskin underlay is a minor annoyance in your day (another story - beware of tummy bugs and co-sleeping).

This is obviously evolution at it's best, otherwise the forest would be full of sweet little wee ones being raised by wolves, having been abandoned by their human mummies after their first nappy explosion.

Truth in Advertising - The Follow Up

2010-02-11T13:53:00.005+10:00

Well whadda ya know!

Seems like I'm not the only one noticing what's going on with sneaky old Meadow Lea. I just saw the series of ads I posted about last night again, only now they have two screen shots at the end saying the ad was brought to us by Goodman Fielder and the Heart Foundation.

Hmm, that, or maybe my blog gets read by more people than I realise!!! :-)

You might think the Heart Foundation thing would hold a bit of weight, but remember this is the same foundation that gave their "tick" of approval to McDonalds meals.

As for Goodman Fielder, that strong upstanding-sounding company (hell, it even has "good" in their name)... hmm, imagine that, they own Meadow Lea!!!!

Do these people think we're stupid?

Truth in Advertising? Pfft!!!

2010-02-10T21:13:00.004+10:00

It's hard enough to decide what to feed out kids today, deciphering nurtition panels, de-coding food additives and pronouncing tert-Butylhydroquinone.

Then along come smarmy old Meadow Lea. Sinking to a new advertising low. First of all, we see a TV advert with a cardiologist talking about how butter is evil and showing a massive pile of butter representing a year's worth of intake and talking about saturated fat..

Then said cardiologist suggests using a margarine spread instead. Oh yes, much better, plant sterols etc., etc.

Now my issue isn't even with the whole butter/margarine debate, it's about how NOWHERE on this ad is there any mention of who paid to put this ad on TV.

Because, in a startling co-incidence, every time this ad shows, two ads later, an ad for Meadow Lea is shown. What serendipity!!! They even show a remarkably similar shot of seeds sitting radiantly in the palm of a hand.

What this means is, for those not paying attention or easily mislead, they think a cardiologist has recommended Meadow Lea. Quick! Let's rush to the store and buy some!!

Now personally, I stick to the theory that the less a food has been interfered with, the better. I think a little bit of butter and other fats in a healthy, active child's diet is better than margarine, which I'm still suss on.

Never mind that margarine is usually hydrogenated and full of trans-fatty acids that raise LDL (bad) cholesterol and lower HDL (good) cholesterol just like the saturated fats in butter, but have you ever tasted it? Blurgh...

I'm not saying don't eat margarine if that's your choice, I'm no dietician and plenty of people know more about nutrition than me. What I am saying is know when you are being sold to and manipulated.

I'm a Twit

2010-02-09T20:40:00.002+10:00

Well, I have decided to see what all the fuss is about.

I have joined the legions of other twits (I know, I know, twitterers, but twits is so much more fun!) and joined Twitter. A few of my friends are on, and assure me it's not the vapid, shallow, self-serving and mundane drivel it appears to be.

Can you tell I'm a fan yet?

Apparently, if I play my cards right, it's the next step on my yellow brick road to super-stardom. That, or it's a way to let everybody know each and every nonsensical thought that enters my head. Oh, wait, I already have that.. you're reading it!!!

It's all in the following apparently. Obviously, if you follow Paris Hilton and her ilk, you're going to get pap, so I am stalking my friends lists and am amazed at some of the people out there. There are also some writing groups that I've joined hoping to pick up some tips. I've decided this is the year I'm going to get published, and have just submitted my very first article to a magazine. Not expecting much to come out of it, but fingers crossed x

So, follow me if you like, and I'll try to keep myself off Tweeting Too Hard.

And, let's tweet each other nicely :o)

Heaven Has a New Angel

2010-02-08T21:34:00.004+10:00

A beautiful woman died yesterday, after a long and painful battle with that bitch cancer. She fought her off twice, but then cancer decided to fight dirty.

She faced this fight with a courage and grace (and yes, even a sense of humour) that belied her tiny, birdlike frame. She was amazing, a true inspiration, and a hero. She loved her family, her friends and her dancing. Thursday morning coffee groups will never be the same.

Wherever you are tonight, gather your loved ones close and tell them that you love them. And, if you can, give a little to cancer research.

Not a Stepford Wife...

2010-02-06T21:11:00.002+10:00

A little while ago the stylin' Diva Misty at Six Divided by Two gave me this nifty little award.

It was inspired by Misty's friend Julie Marie's post on her blog: Idyllhours - I Refuse to be a Stepford Wife. It's okay, go look, I'll wait...

Julie Marie celebrates her individuality and her right to be herself, and Amen to that!!!

I have often ~~ranted~~ spoken about the need for us all, but especially women, to celebrate our differences rather than judging each other. We are all unique... we look different and don't need to conform to any stereotype of beauty, we make different decisions based on our own personal circumstances and that's okay!!!

So thank you to the lovely Misty, and here are some lovely, unique bloggers I would like to pass it on to:

Sharni at Chronicles of Sharnia

Mari-Anne at Counting Coconuts

Caitlyn at Caitlyn Nicholas

Daffy at Batcrap Crazy

And as much as I'd love to award this to pretty much every little individual on the left of the screen there, I think that's all the linking I have in me tonight.

Have a great weekend everyone!! :o)

Kids and the Media: Danger! Danger!

2010-02-05T20:12:00.014+10:00

Well it seems I can't stay away from the touchy subjects this week. I have tried talking myself out of writing about this topic, but it's burning to get out.

Surely I can't be the only person concerned about the amount of early sexualisation of young children we are seeing in ads and products lately? I have seen a few incidences this past week that have left me shaking my head.

Take for example the recent ad campaign in South Korea for Huggies, which attempted to emulate a raunchy David Beckham ad...

Oh, isn't it pithy and witty and a humourous parody! Umm... No. Hell No! There is nothing right with this ad. This is not what baby oil is for. Ever. I can't even start on how wrong this ad is.

Then we have the ~~harlot~~wholesome Emily Grace and her BFF Noah Cyrus (sister of Miley) releasing a sexed-up range of childrens clothing, including fishnet stockings and everything of the short, tight and pluging variety. Here they are a recent red carpet appearance...

Sweet, aren't they?

Darling poppets, I can just picture them now, skipping through daisy fields, brushing each others hair, sliding up and down My First Stripper poles...

Of course, they're not the first to try and get young girls to dress like hookers. Here we have my own personal bugbear, and an entire range that is banned from my household: Bratz.

These bloody dolls (and accessories, including a clothing range that features g-strings and padded bras for primary schoolers!!!!) are a symbol to me of everything that is wrong in marketing to children. Insidiously sexual, the graphics and marketing material make me want to gag. They're supposedly all about being fabulously sass-tastic and independent, but all they are really doing is encouraging young girls to want to grow up way to fast, and promoting the idea that sexy is okay for young girls.

A lot of people will wonder, "What is the real harm in this? Surely they're just playing dress ups?". This is just not so. The Australian Psychological Society confirms that far from fantasy and make believe, children see these images as existing in reality and that physical beauty and sexual attractiveness are intrinsic to self esteem and are part of a successful childhood social experience. Early sexualisation and exposure to advertising and marketing encouraging this leads to the three most common mental health issues facing girls and women today: eating disorders, low self-esteem, and depression. Leaving them, of course, a perfect target for grooming by a far greater danger.

As much as I would love for this to be a world so safe that it didn't matter how inappropriately young children were portrayed, it's not. The more we sexualise and eroticise young children, the more we make them a target for paedaphilia. Child sexual abuse is on the rise, and I can't help but wonder when we are going to make the connection between the increased levels of children shown as sexual beings in the media and marketing, and the increased amount of perverts abusing innocent kids.

If you would like to learn more about the dangers of early sexualisation of young children and strategies to educate your children to combat this, go to Kids Free to B Kids, The Australia Institute or Young Media Australia

Hands off my hoo-hah Tony Abbott!

2010-02-04T14:31:00.003+10:00

So politician and Federal Heath Minister Tony Abbott has decided to jump up and down about women's health issues huh? Abortion and virginity namely.

Of course, being a middle aged male, he is eminently qualified to speak on such subjects.

We all know Tony Abbott don't we? The guy who in 2005 was re-united with his son, who had been adopted because of course Tony and teenage girlfriend didn't believe in abortion! Heavens no! The fact he was in the media for his refusal to ratify the use of the "Abortion Pill" RU-486 was just a coincidence... oh wait, that wasn't his son was it, nope it was another man's son... who worked as an ABC sound recordist in Parliment... hmmm... what a coincidence... I wonder if they ever ran into each other... Anyscam, I'm getting off topic.

So now he is commenting again on the abortion issue, and has also been banging on about how young girls should value their virginity more and not give it away so easily.

Sure he's the Health Minister, so there is some relevance, but my issue is not really even on his opinion, I happen to think we probably should be fighting teenage promiscuity, and whilst I think he should have approved RU-486, it's not like he is trying to criminilise abortion again, he just doesn't want to see more of them, and well, okay, who does really?

My issue is that yet again, some smug man is telling women what to do with their bodies. How about funding for advocacy and womens groups to actually help young girls. What about more funding for schools to educate and empower young girls? No, just bleat on about a topic and get your name in the news.

And really Tony, if you are stupid and conceited enough to jump feet first into this particular minefield, what other stupid and conceited decisions are you going to make as my elected representative? Pass, thanks.

What's my scene?

2010-02-03T20:59:00.005+10:00

Having spent far too many hours standing in front of my wardrobe uttering those immortal words "I have nothing to wear", it dawned on my that actually I have no ONE to wear.

See, I have spent pretty much all my 20's dabbling in different looks and images, and then the last couple of years pregnant and super-sized after said pregnancy, that my wardrobe resembles that of a schizophrenic. I dress according to where I'm going, my mood, who I'll see, what's not in the dirty laundry basket...

Now, before I get started here, I am so totally not a fashionista, and I realise that I could wear a potato sack and still have a fully functioning brain and my spunky if slightly abrasive personality would remain intact. I don't bundle up my self-worth with my make up bag, but I do believe the clothes we choose and the overall "image" we project says a lot about us, who we are and what we are into.

But who am I now? Having spent my high school years slavishly wearing whatever was in Dolly magazine and I could convince my Mum to let me out of the house in, and my 20's dabbling in everything from Doc Martens in the clubs to twin sets at work, I am now a bit befuddled as to what my look is. I'm not talking about what's "in fashion" at the moment, but what genre do I fit in?

I'm pretty sure this isn't it:

But who am I now? Preppy, Boho, Chic, Quirky, Rocky? Ballet flats, kitten heels, sneakers, Converse, friggen work boots, I don't know!! Frankly, I think there is a little bit of everything in me, a lot of different aspects to my personality.

Sure, I'm a Mum, and jeans and a tee are easy for the playground, but there is a part of me that's wants to be a little more stylish than that. I'd love to be one of those women who just "throw something on" and look put together.

Then of course, there's the matter of buying clothes on a non-existent budget, and finding clothes that fit and flatter my current (hopefully not for much longer) size. But that's just making my brain hurt.

So what are your favourite clothes? Is there a look you love?

Poor Jen - yeah right!!!

2010-02-01T20:45:00.002+10:00

Our lunchroom at work has a whole stack of those completely detestable yet thoroughly addictive "trashy" magazines. You know the type, sensational headlines that turn out to be fluff pieces, a whole lot of "our" Princess Mary, and alarmingly photoshopped women showing off their post baby bodies. I have a whole lot of issues with these type of magazines, but one boiled over today.

One of these magazines favourite drums to beat is "Poor Jen".

A little something for you boys, courtesy of GQ Magazine

Jennifer Aniston, to the uninitiated. Ever since her divorce from Brad Pitt, (who left her for Angelina Jolie, in case you've been living under a rock), someone high up in a media-funded ivory tower, decided that no matter how much success and happiness Jen enjoyed post-Brad, she would be forever tarred as a victim, forlornly pining for her ~~Heathcliff~~ Brad.

This came to a head today whilst listening to a couple of colleagues gossip about Poor Jen.

"I just don't understand why she can't get a decent fella."

"Nah, me either. Maybe no-one can compete with Brad".

"Yeah, but he cheated on her, he was no prize."

"Mmmmm... true."

"Maybe she's a real bitch underneath her nice image."

This went on until me head threatened to explode.

"Or maybe," I blurted, "she's perfectly happy with who she is and is loving her life, just doing her thing, and enjoying dating rather than settling for being married to any old guy!"

The response?

*crickets*

"Did you ever think, " I continue, "that none of us have ever actually met, spoken to or even glimpsed Jennifer Aniston in real life, and are only being told a STORY, the very definition of fiction, that someone has decided will sell magazines!"

Apparently not, it seems.

Is there anything about me you don't already know?

2010-01-31T17:03:00.003+10:00

I am soo slack – last week Tony over at Artisan of the Human Spirit passed on the Honest Scrap Award to me. Even though I already had it, I still am very chuffed and appreciative.

In further laziness, a few weeks ago the fun-tabulous Dual Mum over at We’re at Dad’s That Week gave me the Over the Top Award.

For this award I'm supposed to answer a huge list of questions, so here goes:

1. Where is your cell phone? Broken. This is a fate that regularly befalls any technology that spends time in my company.

2. Your hair? On my head, dufus, where else?

3. Your mother? Amazing, inspirational and appreciated.

4. Your father? Tough, but taught good lessons.

5. Your favourite food? Anything I didn’t have to cook!! Probably seafood, or Italian – hmm... pasta marinara maybe??

6. Your dream last night? Weird. I have very bizarre, very vivid dreams. I also (apparently) talk in my sleep, which hubby finds endlessly enlightening and amusing. This is because (apparently) I will respond to questions and am bluntly truthful and without artifice when sleep-talking!

7. Your favourite drink? I’d love to say something cool, alcoholic and trendy, but it’s really a good cup of tea.

8. Your dream/goal? To be a published writer, and to teach primary school. And to raise happy, healthy children. And have an awesome marriage. And possibly be a rock star.

9. What room are you in? Lounge room.

10. Your hobby? Blogging!! Duh!!!! Recently discovered gardening. Would love to get back into horse-riding, but too expensive and all-consuming. I have an addictive personality.

11. Your fear? Many, but the only thing I’m truly terrified of is something harming my family, especially my child.

12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Happy.

13. Where were you last night? At home, doped up on Sudafed and chocolate.

14. Something you aren’t? Famous. Yet.

15. Muffins? Apple and raspberry.

16. Wish list item? Hmm... there’s nothing I really need in my life. Oh! A new vacuum, a Dyson preferably! Oh my God, how mundane and Suzie Homemaker my life is... or possibly it’s full of everything I need already, yeah, that’s better - I’m going with that!

17. Where did you grow up? Gold Coast Hinterland, roaming the hills on horseback, playing in the creek with my friends, going to the beach as I got older. Pretty fricken perfect actually!

18. Last thing you did? Cleaned up the playroom.

19. What are you wearing? What are you, some kind of perv??!!

20. Your TV? On, playing NCIS on DVD. I tend to turn the TV on for company, to fill up a room, not to actually watch it. Though I do love me some NCIS...

21. Your pets? Asleep at my feet. Actually, asleep ON my feet. Warm. Nice.

22. Your friends? Diverse and beloved.

23. Your life? Not nearly as boring and mumsy-ish as this list makes it sound!!

24. Your mood? Recovering from a head cold, but happy.

25. Missing someone? My grandparents. Also my best friend, but it’s only distance that separates us, not the hereafter!

26. Vehicle? A black Mazda 6, usually driven too fast.

27. Something you’re not wearing? Shoes.

28. Your favourite store? A few years ago, I would’ve named some fancy boutique, but these days, I do most of my shopping at Target. I am surprisingly impressed.

29. Your favourite colour? Blue.

30. When was the last time you laughed? A few minutes ago.

31. Last time you cried? A few days ago.

32. Your best friend? Awesome!

33. One place that I go to over and over? Umm, work?

34. One person who emails me regularly? Some charming bloke in Nigeria, he has this dandy set-up where I’m gunna be rich!!

35. Favourite place to eat? Well, you can bet it’s not in the car, madly doing the kindy drop before work!