In A Beautiful Pea Green Boat

One Pic Wonder - Bloom

2012-01-24T16:40:00.000+11:00

The African Violet I have lovingly tended for some 4 years,
has finally bloomed for the first time...
I had forgotten what colour I chose!!

The Wiggles lost a fan today...

2012-01-19T16:42:00.000+11:00

Me.

I have been a big Wiggles supporter along with my kids since they were able to sing and dance (the kids, that is, the Wiggles talents in this domain are questionable!)

We weathered through the replacement of Greg when he stood down to take care of himself. Good on him, and their choice of replacement was great. Sam fit right in, brought with him a fresh younger look and a wonderful voice to the group.

But today's announcement that 'Greg is back' intrigued me. I understand that Greg's health condition is now diagnosed and understood and able to be managed. So I watched a couple of interviews with Anthony and Jeff (and a token word from Greg himself) and was satisfied enough that Sam was an employee 'on a 5 year contract' to take on the yellow role which had come to an end. I assumed they had negotiated the finishing terms with him in good nature and that he had graciously stepped aside when asked to allow Greg to return.

Until I saw this.

Am I right in reading between these lines that nobody actually spoke to Sam about this? That maybe he read it all in the paper today too? And that their working relationship for the past 5 to 9 years was just 'good' whilst with Greg for the previous 15 years it was 'amazing'. That the energy of the group was the important factor in their decision, the implication being that all was not as wonderful with Sam as it could have been?

Wilkins asks, "What about Sam?" and Anthony replies, "what about Sam, what do you mean?" Really? How can you wonder what that question meant? For Anthony to claim (or admit) he 'had nothing to do with it' and 'that yes, it was news to him' (as in, being news to Sam) and also that he hasn't 'spoken to him about it' floors me. I had judged these men to be incredible businessman, in charge (with help of close family and partners) of their own business model, image and direction. To imply that he didn't have a hand in the decision is insulting. Or perhaps it was as simple as contract over, do you want back in Greg? No decision to be made by the group, out with the new and in with the old. That he appears mystified by the interest and questions about Sam's departure beggars belief.

To front up to an interview about a radical turn of events for a group so well known with a return for a member that would attract much attention and so publicised, and to not have had a conversation with the affected party is disgusting. To me it shows they had little respect or care for Sam and his contribution to the group.

Obviously I know little about what goes on behind the scenes and can only go by what I heard here. I hope Sam can rise above and keep the details private and go on to have some amazing success of his own. I really hope Greg is up to the task, because I am not sure where they would find themselves now if he is not.

But honestly Anthony, your vague and bumbling handling of this one sucks.

Car park rudeness abounds

2012-01-17T16:47:00.000+11:00

Today I took two kids and one baby to the pool in another suburb. Anyone who knows anything remotely about having any number of kids is this. Trek to pool + kids = shit loads of stuff.

Pram, snacks, towels (plus spares for the inevitable drenching of originals throughout morning), picnic blanket, snacks, water bottles, lunch, sunscreen, hats, snacks, clothes, wallet, phone, nappies, wipes, snacks, floaties, goggles. You get the idea.

Today was a disaster. It was packed, both inside and outside pool areas. It was loud, splashy, crowded and a drowning or kid's lost accident waiting to happen. My only saving grace was that I got there early enough to get a car park in a reasonable distance to the venue. My friends arriving an hour later weren't so lucky.

Three hours down, tired happy kids, lunch had and baby slept and fed it was time to go. So I trekked back to the car with pram and aforementioned ~~truckloads of shit~~ possessions and sodden kids in tow, figuring I'd strip wet bathers and nappy them up (well 2 of the 3 anyway) and let them ride home semi nude.

Only I forgot that car spaces were now at a premium, and ~~the vultures~~ the hopefuls started hovering and following like bush canaries as I approached the car. Just as annoying too. I bipped the car open and one follower claimed victory, now stalking my spot from a distance, indicator flashing to caution all who venture near.

Only, I have stuff to do. Like unload a fully laden pram, strip 3 kids and apply nappies and undies. Like find lost horse figurines dropped from the back seat. Dismantle and fold a bassinet and pram. Strap 3 kids in, take down the window shades etc, you get the idea. All of which takes a frigging long time. I'd have thought even a complete novice would look at me and think, nah, she'll take too long, I'll keep circling.

But no, this determined individual stuck it out, hellbent on having my spot. So I worked consistently, hating that I feel rushed because of this, just trying valiantly to get out of that hellish car park and let them have it once and for all.

At about the, err, I reckon 6 or 7 minute mark I glanced up and gave a sheepish apologetic wave. Yes, I am that pathetic. (Please like me.) No acknowledgement from the stalker. I press on.

Nearing the end of my odyssey, the kids were all tucked safely away and the pram made it into the boot and was slammed shut. Here my stalker made a critical error; they thought I was done. So they revved their engine. Using all 4 cylinders, woo freaking hoo. Whatever; I am almost, but not quite on the sweet ride home.

Only Big Miss is now in the middle for various long winded and boring car seat manoeuvre reasons and can no longer do up her own belt. Neither hardly can I. So grunting and groaning and once accidentally elbowing Little Boy Blue in the head (sorry mate!) I finally had 3 kids tied down, one crying baby and a very hot and bothered mum.

So do you know what my fellow human did to me at his point, as I reopened the boot to retrieve the dummy for my screaming son, venting all their frustration and annoyance at me for apparently taking too damn long to give them "their" Godforsaken car park?

The tooted long and loudly at me, gave me a rude signal through the window and roared off down the car park in search of fresh meat.

Excuse me??

Well the joke was on you buddy, because after waiting almost the full 15 minutes that whole episode took me, you huffed off and about 45 seconds after that I was outta there and another lovely young lady found and took my spot, and as I was driving away I saw you still circling. Karma is a bitch my friend, so be nice to hot, stressed looking mothers struggling with heavy loads on hot days and keep your bloody pants on if you want my car park!!!

One Pic Wonder - Festive (?)

2012-01-11T08:39:00.001+11:00

I had to look closer - is it...is it....??
Yes, it is Festive loo paper. Of course.
Bought by the husband this week, somewhat innocently.
[Hope it was on special!]

Irony

2012-01-07T20:29:00.000+11:00

I do love a bit of IRL irony.

I am a nurse, as most reading here will know. I work in the Private Sector here in Victoria. So once again I answered the question today, that no, I was not 'on strike' or whatever non health types think it was that the Public Sector nurses were doing during their industrial action. The Private Sector has it's own EBA's with each private association's management. That said, whatever the Public Sector get in terms of wages and conditions, for the most part the private follows suit. Because the Private Sector would collapse otherwise with the mass exodus of nurses leaving the private system due to unequal wage parity.

There are pros and cons in working in either sector, which I won't bore you with now. But one of the main sticking points that the Public Sector nurses were fighting to maintain were nurse-patient ratios. Which in basic generic terms means that nursing work loads are set and limited to one nurse to four patients in a ward situation. Nurse patient ratios are not relevant in the Private Sector as they were never part of an EBA for Private nurses. So in Private Hospitals many ward nurses still struggle under large workloads of often five to six or more patients; but that's another post for another day.

So I was sorting through my emails later today and reading up on some of the Nurse's Union (ANF) email updates sent to me. One addressed the topic of mass resignation that was floated to members a couple of weeks ago. Paraphrasing here, but basically the gist of the email was,

"if you want to be part of a mass resignation, blah blah do this and that details blah blah blah. Nurses considering resigning should look toward alternative employment with a Nursing Agency or in the Private System."

So. Resign as a show of strength that you won't accept the abolition of nurse patient ratios...

and either work for an agency that will most likely send you right back to the sector you just resigned from but with the added bonuses of more pay and less stable work

or

work in the Private system where your ratios don't even exist.

I told you: Ironic.

So that was Christmas.... and Happy New Year!

2012-01-04T21:40:00.000+11:00

*photo heavy post alert!*

The day started with Big Miss very excited to give us her gorgeous handmade gifts, the first presents of the day!

then some in-bed snuggles

and a portrait as taken by Big Miss

stockings for medium kids...

small kids...

and big kids.

giftage

ah, Batman, I love you

accessorised

and personalised

and finally waterised....
The view of the bottom of our court, underwater.
The DBH spent the evening with neighbours trying to keep the house at the bottom from flooding whilst they weren't home.

Minor damage and leaks for us, thankfully

the kids play area

Christmas night at our place was cancelled due to the heavy rain, golf ball sized hailstones (we arrived home just 3 minutes before the hail hit so our new shiny car was spared thankfully) and the fact that our estate was cut off from both directions by flood waters. It took us over an hour and a half (for a 30 min trip) to get home through the devastation of the tornado, that seemingly we missed by mere minutes. The weather was so severe I moved Little Miss out of her room for fear of one of our big gum trees outside coming down on to her room. The night was very scary and Christmas certainly took a back seat as we mopped up, sandbagged and and strategically placed old towels in known leaky spots. The girls were particularly upset by the thunderstorm and not to mention the cancellation of festivities, but we reconvened with family on Boxing Day.

asleep and oblivious,
the way it should be for littl'uns during major weather events!

Hope yours was joyful and safe.

Cheers to 2012!

One Pic Wonder - Crankypants

2011-12-30T10:06:00.000+11:00

[bib was not actually a present from Nana!]

Happy New Year all, we are off to visit dear friends for a couple of days and ring in 2012 with them!

Til next year... mwah!

We just managed it...

2011-12-24T10:20:00.001+11:00

Back story: Big Miss was keen for the first time ever, Little Miss was all talk for a yes to participation and almost chickened out (the standing in front was the pre-arranged compromise and even that was a struggle), smiling being the optional extra. She wanted me in it with her and come hell or high water I WAS NOT doing it this year, it was the DBH's turn if it came to that! Little Boy Blue was just fine apart from the fact that this Santa (not our usual fabulous one, the one we have had the past 3 years running - this was Friday night fill in as far as I am concerned) was not all that good holding babies and the first 3 snaps had him almost fully reclined with a fab shot of his chins. Elf girl instructed Santa twice, I rearranged him twice and on the second go caused tears just as Little Miss was bearing her teeth quasi smile. Hence the red face on the little guy, not to mention the awkward lean (Santa needs lessons), the pained smile from the Big Miss - it's hard to hold a smile for that long and the non existent one from Little Miss. But we got there, as I was a hair's breadth away from leaving Little Miss out of it all together.

Never mind, we had something for the grandparents to put in their frames til next year, it tells a story of our family this year, and I love it regardless.

Happy Christmas all!

Thanks

2011-12-23T20:30:00.001+11:00

A ~~small~~ big word of thanks today to Mavis from Mavis Graphic Designer whom has just done a marvellous job updating my crafty blog banner and associated buttons and blog template.

Go have a look, I love it, I love the simple fresh look, so I just wanted to give her a shout out!

The obligatory...

2011-12-23T14:43:00.000+11:00

pre-Christmas-kids-wearing-Santa-hats-pictorial post.

So that's done for another year!

One Pic Wonder - Love

2011-12-22T09:37:00.000+11:00

unposed

This is how I found them, honest. Just like once before, I swear toys are up to all sorts of things when we are not looking!

Miss 3

2011-12-19T13:30:00.000+11:00

Rounding out the family birthdays this year is my Christmas baby,

now a big 3 year old Dora loving girl.

As of yesterday.

Oh my, Little Miss how grown up you are, *sniff*

Happy happy birthday little one!

Miss K, about 3.5 minutes ago,
[or so it feels like to her mama!]

Meaningful giving

2011-12-02T09:30:00.001+11:00

So after my last downscale Christmas post, today I am yammering on about the giving bit, less about the receiving bit.

[image source]

The meaning of giving to me is just that. Giving with no expectation of receipt and getting joy from the simple act of seeing someone delight and take pleasure in something I have taken the time to think about and purchase (or make), beautifully wrap and hand write a card. I love a beautifully wrapped gift with ribbon, it gives me so much pleasure to do. I think giving at Christmas is more than just about friends and family, as charity should get a look in year round, it seems much more likely to be forefront during the festive season.

Donating to a cause is a lovely way to incorporate meaningful giving at Christmas. Whether it is to a charity close to your heart as a yearly honorary (donation) gift. Or in place of buying a gift you go and buy someone a pig or a goat in Oxfam's Unwrapped gift program which can go down very well if the recipient is well chosen and open hearted, or like a lead balloon if you give it to someone who loves tearing open the wrapping on yet another vase.

One of my favourite ways to include my children in the yearly festivities and another way to introduce charity is through the various gift programs operated by charities through major department stores. When we hit that first Christmas without our first child, I resolved to buy a gift in her honour each year, representing the age she would have been. In recent years I have abandoned that in favour of letting the girls choose a gift each themselves for any gender and any age, then helping them to wrap it and place it under a tree (usually one at each store, just to share the love around). I have found this to be a heartwarming experience with the girls - Big Miss at least so far, just watching them choose with care and never (at least audibly) wishing it was for themselves, the excitement at imagining the recipient and the discussion it provokes.

Ethical giving is another concept that came to my attention recently. This was from my World Vision catalogue this week...

"Christmas is a time of great joy and celebrations for many people. But what if the gifts and good times we share come at a cost for others? Many of the goods we use are made or grown in developing countries. Sometimes the workers have been trafficked. Often they are vulnerable children, forced to work to support their families."

Their advice is to support brands endorsed by ethical certification schemes such as Fair trade or UTZ Certified and to look at the Ethical Consumer Guide and Good Chocolate Guide. Oh dear, more things to think about when doing the Santa run and trying to raise a family to respect the planet, care for others and support community and charity. But baby steps, every small change helps.

So more and more lately I have been trying to find alternative gifts, as so often I wander through stores and see the same stuff over and over. There is not much point even trying a different shopping centre as the stores are all repeated in every one. It is unusual to find a one off unique shop these days, and when I do it's like a treasure. I find this repetitiveness especially true when it comes to the kids stuff. So much plastic, so much packaging and so much merchandising. Now I am not immune to the lure of items Disneyfied or Dorafied or whatever, and neither are my girls of course. But the merchandising is on bloody everything these days it's hard to avoid buying something that hasn't been thus tainted. Apart from the obvious books and toys, there are clothes, bikes, sunglasses, makeup, nappies, sand buckets, torches, linen, clocks, crockery, computer accessories (I found a 'Dora' mouse and mouse pad in my research) furniture, pottys (for God's sake), toothpaste, and of course food like biscuits, yoghurt etc. You name the item, if it's connected to kids, it probably has an irritating Spanish cartoon kid or red talking car on it.

Le sigh.

So I have started to buck that trend and try to find more unusual kids gifts. This is year round by the way, for kids parties etc. My current fave is a kids apron and little baking set of rolling pin, cookie cutters and whisk. I have found a few online catalogues too that stock a bit less plastic, more wood and lots of creative gifts, some more educational and just, well, different kids stuff. And nary a (over done, over exposed) character to be found, joy!

Which brings me to this year's other change of shopping routine for me. I am trying to hand make a few gifts, but admittedly I haven't head heaps of spare time (not sure why!) but my resolve is to at least support others in the handmade community. So this year many of my purchases have come via madeit.com.au because it is high quality and almost guaranteed to be unique in some way. Whilst I would love to have the time to make all my gifts, it's not completely practical, as I am sure not everyone is a suitable mermaid recipient! So I let others take some of the hard work out of it and I in turn support hobby businesses. With the added bonus of doing so in my PJ's and have them delivered to my door. Hand made gifts really do represnt gifts of love. The price almost never truly reflects the hours of work that have gone into it and there is something really special about knowing someone has put time and effort and their own creativity into it. Craft markets are a special treat for me to shop at, I love it. If I can't make it myself, I like being able to say someone else did, and I met them. To me it is much more down to earth giving this way than something mass produced with a 'Made in China' sticker on the back.

Lastly a note about Re-Gifting. Do you do it, have you done it? I admit to yes. Although my disclaimer is I have only done it with kids stuff. Big Miss just had a party and a couple of the gifts were identical to ones she was given last year. Craft kits that don't need to be done again. So into the present cupboard they go. I can't see the harm, if re-gifting eases the commercial strain on Christmas, lessens the amount of landfill and reduces stuff in my house, then I can only see positives. Myself, if I had something that would be a potential re-gift, well the Salvos would just see me again sooner, I'd rather some one got some joy from it but not via re wrapping from me. I'd just fee too guilty, not about the recipient, but about the person who gave it to me in the first place. So there you have it. I don't even feel bad thinking something I received was a re-gift as long as I liked it and it wasn't total junk or partially used or broken. That I have heard of happening, I'd love to hear some IRL re-gift disaster stories if you have one!!

Do you KK?

2011-11-30T13:11:00.000+11:00

[image source]

Christmas is fast approaching, and along with it comes the usual barrage of junk mail, Christmas carols piped through stores and an over abundance of glitter, fairy lights and tinsel. Which isn't really all bad, the fairy lights that is.

So I have been pondering and much discussing lately the 'ethics' of Christmas if you like, for want of a better term. The buying, the gifting, the re-gifting and so forth.

For example, do you love the over indulgence and frenzied gift giving of it all, or are you a bit overwhelmed by the gross commercialism of it as you drown under a mountain of stuff?

Me, I am more and more belonging to the latter group. I still love Christmas, putting up the tree, preparing special foods and giving well thought out gifts. But it's out there, in the shops and on the telly that I am a bit over it. I mean, if auto supply places can claim they have Christmas gifts for everyone, and gift vouchers can pass as presents and if kids really do have 'must have' expensive gadgetry items on their lists, then what is this festive season really all about?

I think the invention of the family Kris Kringle is a great concept. Only thinking of ideas for one or two others and maybe spend a little more on them than you would normally if you are buying for 25 others. I know of people who only KK for the adults and kids still get free rein. I know some that KK between several couples, with couples buying a shared gift for another pair. Or large extended families who KK for everyone.

A few years back when I was pregnant with Little Miss, being due at Christmas and me not wanting to ~~waddle~~ stroll around shops at all in December, my sisters and I devised a shared shopping and budget idea for our family. We combined resources, funds, and most importantly ideas and shopping time to buy joint gifts for each other and partners and our parents. That way we had slightly more to spend than if buying for individuals on our own, we could pool our ideas and cut into thirds the shopping hours. So we devised a spending budget per recipient that was about 2/3 of what we'd have combined spent which also allowed for larger shared gifts for a couple if a larger ticket item was wished for. We can give ideas for ourselves if needs be, as with 2 of us having end of year birthdays this is very helpful. So at the end of it all our personal total spending is less too.

For me, reducing Christmas spending is never actually about the money, but about the ideas needed and the amount of stuff accumulated around our house in turn. I have managed to strike a good deal with most friends and cut out Christmas presents for each other and our kids. I really think birthday presents there is enough, and the kids still seem to get more than enough on the 25th. I have tried asking the grandparents to scale it back too, but to no avail.

One friend recently told me her family resolutely 'would not' do a Kris Kringle as it was 'ruining Christmas' and that everybody should get multiple gifts. Really? This was in a family of all adults. Why would that even be necessary? How much stuff could you possibly want or need?

So what I want to know is, how do you downscale? Do you even want to downscale? Do you KK with your significant others, and do you like the concept? And for the love of God, literally, how do we pass on the idea of less is more to our kids? I am trying, I really am.

I have a whole other post on the meaning of giving, and meaningful giving, with a side note on re-gifting, so stay tuned for that one!

Subliminal

2011-11-22T09:30:00.001+11:00

I have discovered a new blog, which is always a good thing. Anna Millie writes 'Confessions of a Psychologist' which is intriguing enough as a title. So I've been reading for a little while now and she is a great read, please take the time to check it out.

Aaaanyway, she recently wrote a post on subliminal sex messages in advertising. Go and have a look, it's worth it just for the curiosity factor alone.

Go on, I'll wait right here.

Are you back? Were you as gobsmacked and dumbfounded as I was? At the raw obviousness of some and the rather hidden and devious efforts of others?

Okay, so now, having seen all that and (I am) thinking, well, of course, sex sells and all that. We are adults, that is all aimed at adults, it's all well and good. Sort of. Plus I'm above it all and that whole subliminal thing is a bunch of psycho mumbo jumbo drivel etc etc. It's only the perverted who actually see it and worse are the ones who actively go looking for it in the media.

Right?

Right?

Hmmm.

Well she more recently did another post on the same topic. On subliminal sex messages in children's movies. Disney movies to be exact. Go on, off you go. Just make sure your little Minnies or Mickeys aren't staring over you shoulder as they focus in on the familiar and then not quite so familiar images.

Did you go look?

Oh. My. God.

I have two girls. And I am bloody terrified of having to raise them past the age of ~~thirteen~~ ~~ten~~ eight. The world is a sharp and pointy, sex obsessed, nudity loving, nasty, cursing scary place at times. Self esteem and body image issues weigh heavily on my mind now. Navigating teenage sex and STI prevention and alcohol and drug experimentation, getting into cars with irresponsible people, avoiding cyber bullying and poor study habits with two young women in the stranglehold of hormone storms keeps me awake at night. Seriously, I am worried about these things already.

So how does the world help me at the tender young ages I find them at now?

It puts a subliminal word in Rapunzel's hair and another in the night sky with Simba. It has Snow White contemplating oral sex and Minnie dancing with an oversized penis. Even if it is only directed at the adults who understand the word sex, then that is bad enough. We don't need that kind of encouragement to get our kids to watch your movies. Seriously.

Can this be real?

And if it is, then I am 'this' close to boycotting Disney forever.

Some illustrators either have a sick sense of humour or some nerds have way too much time on their hands looking for the subliminal images.

I am totally and utterly horrifed. Yet not all together shocked either, which is probably worse.

What do you make of it all?

Reject by name....

2011-11-15T17:20:00.000+11:00

... you know how the saying goes. I bought the kids some bubbles from a well known el cheapo shop. Ahem. So it seemed only fitting (or not as the case may be) that when bubbles were attempted to be blown, that, well the wand didn't actually fit in through the neck of the bottle. Of course!

* wand wedged in the top *
Can't. Make. It. Fit!

Excellent reasons ...

2011-11-10T13:19:00.000+11:00

for me not to keep on breeding. I have been thinking about this for a little while now. Because I am being hassled about having more children (or not) from many sides at the moment. Despite the fact that Little Boy Blue is but only 3 months old, never mind that bit. And as much as I would love to keep having more, for us, it is not practical, feasible, or indeed medically very safe for me any more.

I love pregnancy. I mean love it. I am one of those chicks you hate if you hate pregnancy. I glow. My skin is clear, my hair is shiny and bouncy, I don't put on a scrap of extra weight and my belly is round and glorious. It gets stretch marks that look like I've been taken to with a blunt knife, but that's the only downside. I don't swell, have never had GD, hypertension or any of the seemingly endless weird things that can happen to a woman in gestation. Simply, pregnancy agrees with me and I bloody love it. My self esteem has never been so high than during those few trimesters that I no longer feel the need to suck in my gut.

But enough is enough.

I am pondering all this particularly more today when I saw a news story that involved the famous American Duggar family are expecting child number twenty. Yes, 20. It's worth a look at that link just to get a giggle out of all the names. My faves - Jinger (that would be Ginger to the rest of us), Jessa (sorry, was that Tessa?what?) and the twins Jedidiah and Jeremiah. As if all having 'J' names wasn't bad enough, then go and have rhyming twins with the same middle names! Crikey, we had enough trouble naming 3 girls without adding in a common initial and then seeing if we could get them to rhyme.

There are silly reasons I like to trot out as to why not. Especially to people on the periphery.

Exhibit A

I CANNOT do more than 3 special cake requests per year.
Just can't.

Exhibit B

Hand made thank you cards. Around 80 of them for each kid.
No more thanks, this lot has taken me 2 of the kid's 3 months of life and whilst the construction has finished,
the writing/addressing/posting is only a quarter of the way through....

Exhibit C,

and possibly the most compelling

This is what 2 kids in modern cloth does to my clothes airer once every 2 to 3 days.

The washing is a big thing for me. Not doing it, not even hanging it, but getting it sorted and put away is an endless thankless invisible task that I loathe. Add to that another refluxy vomitty child that doubles not only his washing but my own personal washing too (I change clothes once or twice a day - or not if I can sponge it off and ignore the smell, oh the glamour) then I am washing two or more loads just about every day. Thank heavens for summer and line drying now. But even then, the sorting and away-putting still needs to be done.

Three younguns was always our hope and dream, and we've achieved it. We even had the boy people seemed to think was our aim. So why the obsession as to whether or not we should populate the earth any further? I liken it to the curiosity that comes with 'when are you getting engaged/married/pregnant/having more?" questions women are plagued with all our adult lives. It never ends.

We are so very lucky, so damned blessed to have had three healthy children after losing our first little blossom that it would feel a bit like tempting fate to try again. Why should I be so lucky once again? If God were to see fit to bless us otherwise (aka, we have a little oopsie!) then I would embrace and deal with that if it arose, the surgical complications it would mean for me and all. But other than that, we are happy, content and feel very much 'done'. Why can't everyone else feel that way for us too?

Sweet Six

2011-10-27T10:32:00.000+11:00

My baby girl turns six today. I am all teary and heart warmed thinking of what I was doing at this time on a very similar sunny and warm day in 2005. Rocking and swaying with contractions, enjoying my music really loud in between adding the last minute items to my hospital bag. Waiting for the DBH to come home again from work. Wondering about the baby boy or girl we were waiting to meet. Wondering about what name we'd settle on once he/she was born.

It really was the beginning of another life, for us, not only her. It was bittersweet as I still reeled from the loss of our first but knowing this baby would be well looked over from above.

My dear sweet girl had one humble request for her birthday this year. She's been hankering after one for months. A skipping rope. Preferably pink or rainbow (God I am good....). So it was with much delight as she literally skipped around the house today.

My heart swelled as she encouraged her sister to help her open her presents and promised to share them with her. At her insistence on opening and reading the card first, as always. At her wanting to leave one gift for later, so Nanny could watch her open it (the biggest gift, no less).

Her request for birthday fare for her school class? Tea cups. Which I had much pleasure in making her, as they were super easy and look super ace.

She was the happiest girl in the world going off to school today and I was too. How simple and sweet life is at six. I am remembering to savour it now. In case, you know, it all turns feral later!

Happy 6th Birthday baby girl!

Buzz kill, well relocation anyway

2011-10-25T11:19:00.002+11:00

Last week I found myself in the middle of a little swarm. Which turned into a massive swarm. Of bees. Which then turned itself into the beginnings of a very decent hive, right under my deck. So that night after consulting, ahem, Dr Google and his bitch Mrs Wikipedia no less, I thought my research was done and that the swarm would move on in a day or two. Wrong.

So yesterday I called an expert. Well, no first I called another large pest removal company where the woman on the phone unhelpfully informed me that they can't treat anything above 2 metres off the ground. Not standing on the top of a ladder that reaches 2 metres. No. Put your arms over your head. That is about 2m. Any higher than that and they can't help you. Because of Occupational Health and Safety, she said. Ooookaaayy. So, you don't do bee hives then? I asked..... "yes we do, only the low ones". Right, because so many bees choose to make their homes on the ground. So what should I do? I asked her. She advised I find a smaller company that "doesn't abide by the rules and regulations", ie a company that would be happy to use a goddamn ladder (my interpretation). Plus, this company kill them, not remove them, which is not in line with my love the environment and do no harm to furry critters ethos, so bzzzzt! You're out, large-franchised-overcharging-don't-climb-ladders unhelpful-company!

So then I called the experts. A lovely couple who are beekeepers on a large property and would be happy to relocate our happy little hive. For a very small fee. Lovely.

the swarm after it just settled

So I was more than a little concerned when a fairly elderly lady turned up on my doorstep this morning. When she needed help with her ladder (oh, the scandal) she called on her even more frail husband, toting a walking stick. These folks had to be mid 70's to early 80's. Yikes. Now I was worried about her climbing the ladder, armed with her most sophisticated of bee removing tools. A cardboard box!!

one week later, honeycombs protruding

modern bee-capturing technology at its finest; hey, it worked!

Not concerned enough was I to hold her ladder steady though, she had the full gear and I had maybe an orange bag to stick over my head. I'll supervise form the safety of my window with the phone in my hand and poised to dial 000 if needed, mkay?

So into the box, and into a bag they went. She scraped off the rest of the honeycomb and gave me a souvenir for the kids. They were here to stay, she informed me, and would have made a massive hive, even she was surprised by how much work they had done in less than a week.

So I am feeling much better about barbeque's on the deck this summer, and I know my little buzzy friends will be happy in their new home on the farm. No, really, not the kind of farm your parents told you Rusty the dog went to when you were a kid, there actually is a farm, I promise!

A Reflection of Seven

2011-10-18T14:26:00.017+11:00

Seven years since our family began

Seven years since I saw your beautiful face

Seven years since my tears splashed on your cheek

Seven years since we gave you your name - our most favoured one in the world

Seven years since your broken heart took a piece of mine

Seven years that have flown by with the blink of an eye, and not a single day has passed that I haven't thought of you

Seven years since we said goodbye....

~~~

Seven, it's my favourite number, and has been since I was small. Not so much today though.

I am a jumble of emotions today, the sun is shining warm and bright, the floating breeze tickles my wind chimes. It is beautiful. My children make me smile through my tears. Big Miss with her sad face as I dropped her at school, that she can't accompany us to the cemetery today. Their look of joy with their little gifts as they pose in front of Kristen's lilac you see here.

My inward cringe mingled with pride as she tells her school friends about Kristen's birth day today. Not 'Baby Kristen' to her anymore, it seems they have both grown up. I shudder a little because I am so selective about to whom and how I share our loss these days. Not so when you are in Prep. Just as well too, as it is accepted as fact without much further question, it's a wonderful thing. My Little Miss, so excitedly telling the ladies in the green grocer and florist this morning that we are going to see Baby Kristen. They each in turn look at me with enquiring eyes, and I just smile back. The tears and heartbreak when we are to leave the cemetery as "we haven't seen her yet". Ooh, so hard to explain to a 2 1/2 year old. I have tried in so many forms. Through my own tears I try to explain Kristen's special resting place, but that she's not really here and we can't see her. God, I think she must have thought we were bringing home another baby, as she said, a "friend for Luke". Oh dear.

So we arranged the flowers and brought home for them each, a tulip and some pink bells for their bedrooms. Little Miss chose the flowers and I think she did well. They each had chosen a little gift to leave for her, as you see in the pic above. I loved watching them choose their gifts for their own reasons, and look forward to placing them there. Big Miss will get to place hers tomorrow.

It is strange to me now, sharing this ongoing grief with children who have come after. Answering unfathomable questions, whilst avoiding the nitty gritty details my Big Miss seems intent on hearing about. I feel selfish too, not getting to spend the quiet time reflecting I once was able to do. Not dedicating enough mental time to my first baby girl. But I can't lament it too much, for the reason I can't is my 3 very much living and healthy children distracting me. I can't be sorry about that. And somehow I think my girl would understand.

But today is a birth day, and Little Miss wants to know, as any self respecting 2 year old would; where is the cake? A great idea, a cake to share, a celebration, of sorts. Maybe a new family tradition. So excuse me now, as I go and make a cake with my middle one. It's the very least we can do.

Posted at the precise time of your birth darling girl, seven years ago.

I miss you, I love you.

xxx

Do you know your body shape?

2011-10-07T11:07:00.000+11:00

I have always been envious of anyone getting Trinny and Susannah style wardrobe advice. Because I really don't know how to dress for my shape, and didn't really know what that was. Plus I have a uniform of jeans and a top (going out clothes - hah!) and jeans and a t-shirt (school run) and trackies and a t-shirt (home comfort). Not exactly Vogue material there. But I don't know what to buy to suit me, or where to start. With shopping for me time exceptionally limited right now, I feel a bit hopeless.

I have read all about apples and pears, hour glasses, rectangles and inverted triangles but couldn't find out exactly what I was. Because, like many women, my body image of self is waaay distorted. The more I read about most shapes the more I thought I was that one I was currently reading about. Not helpful.

[image source]

So when I came across the body shape calculator yesterday I was keen to check it out. Plus I saw Gok Wan raving about it and that was enough for me, I am strangely attracted to that man!

I was sure I'd be an apple. I was secretly hoping for hour glass, because I think that is the sexiest shape there is. Inverted triangle wouldn't have shocked me because of my enormous bosoms (thanks Nan, for both the word, and the genetics) but knew that is was likely my hips weren't in that category. I know I'm not a pear, thanks to aforementioned bust.

So I plugged in my stats and waited for the result.

I couldn't have been more shocked. I was a rectangle. Which is a shape I associate with tall think women, either of which I am not. And I have to tell you, as much as I was expecting the result to be an apple, unflatteringly round at best, I think I almost prefer that to the rectangle. I mean, at least an apple has curves! I'm not tall and thin, so therefore I am just a wide rectangle. Maybe I should be a square instead!

(FYI, I just found the Trinny and Susannah body shape quiz. There I am either a brick - oh joy, or possibly a goblet, which I much prefer; it involves alcohol....)

But the good thing to note here is that, unwittingly I have already been following some of the rules they list for my shape. I know strapless is not good, and that low scoop necklines are. I love wrap style dresses and often go for under bust line wraps. Fabric folds, knot details and 3/4 length sleeves I have in my wardrobe. There are things to learn too, like stripes never enter my repertoire, but but maybe they should be, as long as they are not vertical. Asymmetric hemlines and belted waists are things I normally avoid. To break up my ~~square~~ rectangle, perhaps I'll give them a go.

So go on, what are you? And importantly, what did you think you were? Were you surprised by the result like I was? And will it change your shopping and buying habits? Please share!!

True heros

2011-10-04T14:34:00.002+11:00

I don't know why but it has long irked me that sports stars are referred to as heros. It's not that I don't think that their accomplishments aren't wonderful, athletic and amazing. I do. More often than not I am awe struck and inspired by their achievements. They put in superhuman hours of strength and endurance training, for sure. But they are not heros for achieving sporting glory. They do that for themselves. Even those that represent their country in a sport, still do it for themselves. To reach their own goal, attain their personal best, to be better than others. It's still only about themselves. of course the term has been bandied about a bit in the last couple of days with the various football codes grand finals.

{my sort of super hero}

A hero is about the quality of a character in their behaviour or deeds. Specifically in helping others.To quote the meaning from dictionary.com ....

Hero, noun, plural -roes; for 5 also -ros.

1. a man of distinguished courage or ability, admired for his brave deeds and noble qualities.

2. a person who, in the opinion of others, has heroic qualities or has performed a heroic act and is regarded as a model or ideal: He was a local hero when he saved the drowning child.

3. the principal male character in a story, play, film, etc.

4. Classical Mythology .
a. a being of godlike prowess and beneficence who often came to be honored as a divinity.
b. (in the Homeric period) a warrior-chieftain of special strength, courage, or ability.
c. (in later antiquity) an immortal being; demigod.

I guess your sports star could claim heroic status based on 4b there. But still, I am not convinced. Sports stars however can become heros. I even blogged about one. Because he did that athletic feat for to raise funds. He put his sporting prowess to work, for others.

Anyway, the real reason for my post today was last night I watched Australian Story. The episode was called 'For the Holy Grail' and it was about 2 scientists striving for the Holy Grail of medicine; a cure for cancer. Watch it if you have the time, the science is nothing short of amazing. Basically, they have created tiny cells that hone in on and can invade cancer cells. The kicker is that now they can inject medicine into these micro cells that is released once inside the cancer cell, killing it off. The proverbial Trojan horse of oncology. Dr Jennifer MacDiarmid and Dr Himanshu Brahmbhattid are the two responsible for having the vision to look back to nature for the answer. It was something that Dr Brahmbhattid said that has resonated with me. Excuse me if I paraphrase here - but basically he said that he works from about 5am til 7pm each day, 365 days per year. He has other interests, like the guitar, but he feels now that they have come so far, that if he does other things, that is time wasted. That in the meantime people are dying whilst he was doing 'other things'. That maybe one day, on a Sunday he might find some time, like half an hour when he maybe could marry his partner of 20 years. Bless that patient, understanding woman.

Here is a man that is dedicated and passionate about his work. Not because of the financial accolades it might bring (which it definitely could) but because of how many it might save or prolong life for. Because the drug is still a long way off being marketable yet, with human trials only just beginning and ongoing funding being an ever doubtful thing in this country. He and his work partner are most definitely heros. They have to be, or they'd have given up long before they raised the 4 million dollars it took to just get started.

We have many heros, in this country, Prof Graeme Clark and Dr Fiona Wood to name the first two that pop into my head. It's easy to find medical contributions, like Weary Dunlop, Fred Hollows. But there are others that try and make our world and country a better place. People that really make a difference in other ways. Ian Kiernan, Dick Smith and Moira Kelly. There are thankfully many others like them.

I guess all I am saying is, if we could put our doctors, teachers, scientists, environmentalists and human and animal rights workers up on the same pedestal we put our sports stars, and give the same amount of funding their way as we do our Olympic effort, then the world could only be a better place. I know whom I'd rather have my children admire and role model.... and it doesn't involve kicking a ball, running fast or jumping high.

Tuesday Tidbits

2011-09-27T11:44:00.000+10:00

because it's Spring and they're pretty....

A few pieces of randomness from last week...

Big Miss came home from school one day last week to the lovely aroma of various soap scum chemicals I have resorted to in cleaning our shower, namely Exit Mould, because it at least makes things white again. "What's that smell mum?" "I've been cleaning" I reply. "ooohh", she says, "I've never smelled that before". Ahem. I do actually try and clean from time to time...

Came across an organic grocer over the weekend aptly and weirdly named "Elvis Parsley and Grapesland". Boom tish!

Little Miss word clangers from last week.... she has been wanting to sleep on the 'fungal' bed for her afternoon nap. You know, the one that is on wheels and slides beneath a regular bed? Also she has been wanting to eat a lot of 'keyring fruit'. You know, the fuzzy little fellas that come from across the Tasman? She's also been wearing her 'mocchas' quite a bit. The lambswool lined on your feet variety, not the chocolatey coffee down the front of your shirt kind, which she's also prone to when babycinos are involved. And if not mocchas, then it's 'fippers'.

Have been having my regular recurring dream theme again. The ones where I am behind on homework, dreadfully late with assignments or haven't started study and the paper is due tomorrow type of dreams. High school, Uni, either/or. The kind of student I never was, never could be. These dreams have me all wound up in anxiety by the time I wake and panting with relief with the realisation I am not currently studying. Only now have added to the complication and I am dreaming of doing it all with a newborn infant to add to the stress. Go figure. What do these dreams say about my personality?!

I bought something on eBay over the weekend. A large pick up only type of item (ookaaaay, it was a shiny red pram to match my shiny new red car, so unintended a match but so awesome!) So when I rang the seller to arrange pick up, I got the husband on the line. I enquired about the possibility of Monday morning, to which he responded that his wife "does nothing and so should be home". Hmmm. Said wife was a lovely girl with two small children, and clearly did not do nothing. He probably only meant that she did not currently work and so Monday morning would be a fine time to pick up the pram, as I clearly was not working and available at that time also. But still, much can be conveyed by the simple selection of words sometimes I think. It made me ponder what he thought his wife actually did do....

Yesterday I was sitting at the computer when I heard an odd scratching at our glass door, in full view from where I sit. I thought vaguely about the dog's collar rubbing on the window where she often sits so I glanced over. It took a moment to comprehend what I was seeing. A reptile was apparently knocking on my door which can mean only one thing. Barry is back! And he was probably sending me an SOS as Jess our local blue tongue ~~killer~~ wrangler was in the vicinity. Barry is our local friendly Blue Tongue Lizard. I can't tell you how many times I have cursed Barry as I almost ran him over in our driveway, mistaken him fleetingly for a snake in our laundry and garage on several different occasions. How many times he has banished the girls from playing in their garden as Barry has assumed control over the dog protected world - due to the fence to keep our old girl from soiling the kids play area. By the time I got my camera to capture Barry tapping at my window, (yes totally thinking about a blog post here) he'd absconded to under my bedroom window as you see him here, and not so pleased to see me even though I'd just rescued him from Jess' loving taps and enquiring sniffs. Not keen to actually pick him up, and almost late for a M&CH appointment, I was glad to see him scurry off into the garden, hopefully camouflaged lest he fall to a similar fate of his cousin Larry did last year (I found him a bit dismembered in the the back yard. Bad girl Jess! Lizards are our friends, for when you see them around, Sammy Snakes are not likely to be). I am still giggling over the sight of him on his two back legs, head popping up over the door frame and front legs scratching at the glass... helloooo, anybody home?

Bad Boy Barry

Finally today, a ~~show off~~ pic of Little Boy Blue. Because I cant' get enough of those cheeks. It's like drugs man, drugs for hormonal mummies, and I'm refusing rehab. The poor kid will be shoving me off him in no time if his sisters are anything to go by, so for now I'm attacking with full force whilst the poor kid has no defences. Even his constant vommies are not a deterrant!

Hmmm, how many ways will I torture that woman when I am a toddler??

The breast kind of cause

2011-09-24T22:46:00.000+10:00

A very old and very dear friend of mine is doing something wonderful. Well, what I mean is she's not old, but our friendship is. She's not dear, but she is a dear. But I digress.

So what I hear you ask? Well she's running. And she's new to it all which makes her personal challenge all the greater. She is doing it for her own health whilst achieving a goal - running in the Sunday Age City2Sea run. Plus at the same time raising some cash for the McGrath Foundation to help fund more breast care nurses. Boobs and nurses, two things close to my heart (pun really was kinda intended). It's a cause close to her own heart too. She recently scared us all with a potential nasty discovery of her own, (thankfully twas not the big C) and is personally witnessing a loved one of her own of similar age to us both with a young family battle breast cancer herself. It's scary stuff.

So if you own boobs, have a spare dollar or two, and want to contribute, please head over to her page and leave her a donation, (any amount is fantastic), plus don't forget a Ra Ra Ra cheerleadery message of support - she loves that sort of thing, and be sure and tell her I sent you! Even if you don't have boobs - gentlemen take note ! (or bosoms as my Nan liked to call them I rather like the term myself), she'll still happily take whatever she is bequeathed.

After that, quick! Go do a BSE, God knows I need a kick up the butt to remember to do that sort of thing.

Becc, you are an inspiration to me, my very best of luck to you my friend, not that you'll need it. Once you put your mind to anything I know you will achieve it. Such a great thing you are doing, and for some very special people - both nurses and patients xxx

Run, Beccy run!

(Try not to grow a beard while you do it though love!)

[and that is metaphorically me and your mum and other ~~stalkers~~ fans behind you-slash-Forest, in spirit, yeah?!]

Friday Freak Out

2011-09-02T10:32:00.002+10:00

It happens weekly on a toned down basis and about bi-monthly on a big bender type of thing. I freak out. Over the amount of stuff/crap and miscellany we have around here.

Weekly, on about a Thursday or Friday afternoon I go crazy, rope the kids in and do a massive tidy up. Like put away the boxes of toys that have been out all week and all the random little bits and pieces that migrate to my kitchen bench, hell, any flat surface not already covered with stuff. By nightfall I have turned our living space back into a haven fit for adults, not merely a childcare centre after a hurricane. I can relax and have my space back, it is heaven for approximately 12 hours until they are up and at it again. That's okay. The accumulation is slow for the first couple of days, based on the fact we are often busy and not home on weekends and time is spent outside as the weather improves. Come midweek it's piling up again and then I find myself on the Friday Freak Out again.

Then, my friends, about once every second month or so it turns into Friday Throw Out. I love these days best. you know all the craptastic Maccas toys that breed? You know the lolly bag type loot that is not consumable? Plus all the missing bits and pieces, broken things and toys that have never or rarely been played with. I purge. And man, does it feel good!

Now, here's the kicker.

The kids actually help me. This is the key to success; active participation.

I used to do this alone, under the cover of darkness, or telly. I would work in stealth mode, rarely consulting the kids with my confiscated items, lest I hear the answer and inevitable whine "but I still want that...". But it was rife with the possibility of coming back to bite me, and hard. So some time ago I introduced the idea to my progeny that not all our toys had to stay, just like clothes; when you grow out of them or have no need of them, they can go to someone less fortunate. That if Santa wants to visit our house, he needs room to actually leave stuff. And that he looks very kindly upon children whom are not so attached to every little piece of plastic paraphernalia that they can let go from time to time.

I was met with fierce resistance at first. I am mainly referring to Big Miss here, Little Miss is just cottoning on now. Big Miss would happily let me rid our home of, say, deflated balloons - but not all of them. She'd let me purge a few old drawings maybe, and occasionally something that was busted. Uh huh. Not gonna fly with me young lady. So I persisted.

My dear beloved husband was home early and privy to this ritual, before now he'd only witnessed the fruits of my labour, not seen the process. He watched on last night as I went into my bi-monthly tidy-fuelled rage. Entire toy boxes were upended. This has the added benefit of giving these thing a tidy up of what is to remain too. See? Double the joy. He watched with amazement and some amount of horror as I included our little ones in the purge. He also admitted that he was secretly worried about what I might have chucked of his own possession. I told him if he wasn't missing it, then how could it matter? (cue evil grin with innocent eyelash fluttering). Incredulously he watched as both girls agreed to a vast number of thing to be moved on. My persistence has paid off. Big Miss' new found attitude is easily rubbing off on Little Miss. They are still attached to many things, and some things I desperately wanted to move on (party blowers anyone?) but they said no - must keep. So I acquiesced. Because I know come next tidy up the answer will be yes. I am nothing if not patient for these things now. The added bonus is when they agree that these things can go, there is no nasty whiny "where is my ....?" that mummy then has to skirt around the answer of "well, I piffed it!"

So on the weekend we'll be off to Vinnies with a large box of toys and several bags of clothes - I go all out when on a rampage and attack the cupboards too!

Do you do it? Purge? Is it a yearly thing as the Big Red Guy starts loading his sleigh? Do you involve the kids, and are they willing participants or do you sabotage unwanted items like I have known ~~friends~~ mere acquaintances to do?

If you've never done so, I highly recommend it. It's like therapy, only with the plus of decluttering!

No pressure - hah!

2011-08-28T10:04:00.000+10:00

It's starting to really irritate me the way the media is all over the 'yummy mummy' idea -ugh, hate that term, and the 'how I got my body back only days after I had my baby' type of stories. Uh huh. Like it's the norm. Like we could all achieve such a look if only we really tried.

This week it is Rebecca Judd, WAG of an AFL star and model in her own right. Perhaps best remembered, and indeed first noticed for THIS dress. She's just had a baby boy, and I know exactly how old that infant is as he was born on the very same day our Little Boy Blue came to us. Almost 5 weeks ago.

[Side note: I seem to be forever flagellating myself with celebrity pregnancies coinciding with mine. Naomi Watts had a baby when I had Little Miss, and Princess bloody Mary had her first son when I had Big Miss. Yep, easy comparisons with myself there!]

So a couple of days ago Mrs Judd was back in the paper 'striking a pose' and looking bloody sensational and is reported as planning to be back on the catwalk in September. Good on her. I mean it. In a totally loving wanna-gouge-her-eyes-out kinda way. This is a woman genetically blessed with great cheekbones, fabulous skin tone and no doubt a sprinting metabolism. I admire her and hate her all at once. Like I say, and along with that blooming Miranda Kerr, good on them.

But the reality for most of us mere mortals is quite different.

So whilst I am relatively happy with where I am right now, I could never compete (for want of a better term) with a woman like her. Sure, I am back into my fat jeans (I almost typed genes then!) which are size 16. Hoping in a few more weeks to be in the smaller pairs I own (how many women do this - have two batches of clothes in their wardrobes with fat and thin varieties? It's madness, yet I still have done it). Two weeks ago I weighed myself and I was still 4 to 5 kg up on my pre pregnancy weight. As of last night I am happy to report that I am back down to square one. Thank heavens for breast feeding. Which is not to say that 10 to 15kg less wouldn't be great for my health, I am just glad to be back to a fair start and not battling any extra kg's that a pregnancy can bring. I have always been blessed thus, and I am grateful, as weight loss is not my strong point.

So when my husband (bless him) after a discussion about said article, asked me with hands planted on hips and tongue firmly planted in cheek - thank God we've known each other a looooong time - "C'mon, Al, I have standards, why don't you look like that by now?" To which I replied that "my starting point was never looking like that, doofus, and I have had FOUR human beings come through my uterus! What has she done lately but have one kid?" I may or may not have poked my tongue out at him. Who could blame me?

Which got me thinking about my body after babies. My belly is wobbly. My abdominal muscles separated some two kids back and have never rejoined. So 'sucking it up' isn't all that helpful. The overhang saggy and super wobbly bit that I hate (it truly is the ONLY thing I utterly hate about myself and would actually consider plastic surgery for, yikes) and no amount of sit ups seems to reduce is worse than ever. The crepe like appearance of the skin from stretch marked skin that is no longer stretched. The new angry red welts from the extensions of the old stretchies. The super tingly and unpleasantly heightened sensation skin on the lower half of my belly that can't stand to rubbed up against by clothes. Yet going about with midriff exposed, whilst comfy doens't seem like such a good idea based on what I have just confessed. The ropey, sensitive and at the same time numb ceaser scar that has seen 3 of my children through to life on the outside world. And don't get me started on my F cups, Oh. My. God.

So I'll never wear a bikini again. They never looked that great on me to start with, and all the extra sunscreen one must apply! I'll probably never wear low rise jeans again, but then again most people shouldn't. I am unlikely ever to purchase a front buttoning top again lest I take out someones eyesight with a button popping experience. Lingerie seems like a distant memory, and so does going to bed topless. For now I'll have to put up with the most unflattering and unsexy escape flap bras in order to easily nourish my child.

And you know what?

I wouldn't change a damn thing

(okay, the overhang bit I really really would, seriously Mother Nature, way to remind a gal she has had people in her womb)

Because these flaws and scars mean I am healthy and able to gestate and lactate when so many have trouble.

Because I have amazing and beautiful children and I feel like the most blessed woman in the world.

Because having my children, even my littlest flower that we said goodbye to, has enriched my life beyond words and brought people into our lives whom we wouldn't be without.

Because my husband still thinks I am gorgeous despite all I've mentioned, and I love him all the more for that.

And because secretly I know that Rebecca Judd's boobs probably leak at inconvenient moments like mine do and she's probably wearing some supersized nursing pads under that cutesy little number.

Right?

Best friends

2011-08-26T09:05:00.003+10:00

Who needs enemies when you have friends who insist on giving soft toys that are larger than the recipients?

Exhibit A.

Little Boy Blue with his new BFF.

Please see the previous mother of all cases, exhibit B

(you must scroll down for the full story on that one)

Exhibit C.

Exhibit D.

Exhibit E.

Exhibit F.

*sigh*

The world gone mad

2011-08-25T10:27:00.001+10:00

Okay, so I am behind in blogging terms, not enough hours in the day right now! But I wanted to write about two stories that circulated in the media here in Melbourne last week.

One, a minor piece involving an 85 year old pet cockatoo that resides at a Coburg pet shop. Apparently, the Department of Sustainability and Environment has ordered the bird behind bars and no longer be allowed to sit free on his perch. I get that he shouldn't be allowed to escape. Whatever. I also get that in the past 15 years at least, he hasn't done so. I have met 'Cocky' myself, some years ago. I doubt he'd even bite your finger if you so tried to get him to do so.

So the other, an absolutely tragic and horrifying story about a precious 4 year old girl being mauled to death by a dog, a pit bull variety no less. Thankfully there was no objection from the owner and the offending animal was destroyed soon after. But still in the following days there were objections by fans of these breeds to the calls for banning of them. Really? The breed cannot be imported into this country but some are already here. And they can be bred and crossed with other varieties. So they are here, and they are deadly weapons. For all their supporters, these are still aggressive dogs by their very nature. All dogs can be provoked, but some will attack more readily. This dog 'wandered' into the yard where these children were. Perhaps it was provoked by their noise or play, but what does it matter? It was not properly fenced or supervised and the outcome produced the most tragic of consequences.

So where is the common sense here? An elderly bird is forced into a cage and these dangerous dogs are still allowed to be kept in this state, albeit with restrictions and only IF the law is followed. Cold comfort to little Ayen's family, I am sure.

Random thoughts

2011-08-10T10:03:00.000+10:00

Random bits and pieces that have no right to a post all their own.....

I am currently in the bad books with the DBH for introducing the girls to the wonders of a very particular music genre. Enter... ABBA. Yep, I have two little Honey Honeys, a couple of Dancing Queens and a pair of Mama Mia's. The funniest part is HE can't get the songs outta his head. Now that the CD has been uploaded to our fancy new car, there's no escaping their enthusiasm.

If you delay going to the dentist for over two years (the last time I went was just after the Little Miss was born, oops) then dental karma will kick you in the teeth and so I find myself with an emergency appointment today because of a gaping hole in a molar I just made worse by probing with my toothbrush (that dark area coulda been food, okay?) Thankfully there is no pain, just a weird whistling sound when I talk.....or not.

I actually don't want to discuss my long term contraceptive plans with my neighbour. Shock. Quite apart from the fact that said neighbour is in her late 70's, rarely listens to my answers about anything and still understands only simple English despite her 30 odd years in this great land. Also despite the point that I ignore her every single time she asks me. Which is to say she asks me every single time I see her, including while the said last child was still incubating within ("3 is enough, yaah? Whatchoo gone do for the stop the bebbies? Get the operashun?"). Umm, no, I just don't want to go there with you, orright? Not so much TMI as TMQ.

I am getting cabin fever from the houseboundedness I am a slave to post caeser. Which means a visit to the dentist sounds exciting and I am more likely to take to visiting my infuriating neighbour to relieve the social isolation. Sucker for punishment, huh? God, why don't I have young neighbours? Or a hot dentist to make me want to go more often? Don't even ask me about my obstetrician... now there is a reason to have more children! (okay, that was totally tongue in cheek, the bit about more kids that is...)

Speaking of reasons to have more children, apparently the Baby Bonus wasn't the reason for the increase in births since the government introduced it. Seems people are deciding to expand their families because they want to, (another shock!) and not because of government policy or a measly 3 grand - which in the scheme of a life raising children is a joke. My swanky large telly on the other hand, is definitely not a joke.

Also of government things, did you eCensus last night? The whole online thing makes so much more sense than having to collate millions of written forms, I am still wondering when voting will catch up to the technological era we find ourselves in. But as an interesting aside, an article in our local mag mentioned that this years census was interested in how many cars we own and whether or not we have internet connection at home. Whereas in 1947 it was all about internal plumbing, ie a flushing toilet. We've come a long way it seems. But what did tickle my fancy was that 5 years ago on the last census, when it came to the question of religion, 57,000 ~~smart arses~~ citizens answered 'Jedi Knight'. Which amused me no end as I envisioned some little Star Wars fanatic giggling with mirth as he so cleverly wrote that witty answer only now to discover that 56,999 other ~~nerds~~ people had the same idea. Ha! But sadly, this year it won't be counted as a religion. Everybody together now; 'aawwww'!

Little Boy Blue

2011-08-01T15:14:00.000+10:00

is here!

just to round out the set

Luke

7lb 7oz (3385g)

50cm

Healthy, happy, feeding like a champion, gorgeous and ours.

We are blessed.

Thanks so much for your messages of love and support.

xxx

In honour of another upcoming birth

2011-07-25T14:18:00.001+10:00

I have had reason lately to going back in time to review my past labour and birth experiences. But here for you I am mostly showing the less than glamorous post (and one pre) birth shots. Why? Because it is not all like one super hot woman wearing gorgeous things feeding her infant son. Because it is not about glamour and pre birth waxing and manicures and having lippy on for that first pic. It is bloody and tiring and unsexy and all at once exhilarating. That last one is what shines through.

Read and follow the links at the end....

Mid labour with Kristen. The worst was yet to come.

[I am not comfortable to share post birth pics, but at the same time I couldn't leave her birth out.]

* * *

Big Miss' birth.

Emergency c/s after God knows how many hours of labour and oyxtocin drip and finally an epidural to control the pushing urge which I was told to suppress (yeah right, only a MAN who has never given birth nor experienced that urge would give that advice)

I was horrified that the DBH sent this photo above directly to work, and later I was mortified to find it (like SIX WEEKS later when I dropped in for a visit) large and blown up on the wall of the ICU nurse's station for all to see. For all that time. I thought it was truly the worst photo of me ever.

Then a much older and wiser colleague told me completely off the cuff that she thought that pic was so beautiful. Because she knew of our journey to have that baby, and that it told a story of a new mum exhausted but deliriously happy, of tiredness and triumph. I've never quite looked at it the same way since. It's why I feel comfortable sharing it now.

Bless her.

* * *

Little Miss' birth.

Not much less exhausted this time due to not sleeping a single wink the night before, due mainly to anxiety, stress and worry. Not much excitement til after. Oh, and a horrible hacking cough and cold I contracted in mid Summer no less that I was trying to get over lest I split my seams post "elective" c/s.

* * *

Watch this space for the next installment....

Thanks to Mrs Woog and her idea for all this sharing. I'd have contributed over there, but am not on FB to share on her page. Her inspiration is enough. Plus the impending (Oh God, in a matter of hours!) arrival of our Little Boy Blue is inspiring enough to make me reflect on previous birth experiences. [And lack of grooming preparation therein, you'll have to read the links to get that reference.] Barring the hair cut and colours which were a) needed and b) forward planned due to lack of time, availability and money in the after birth phase, there has been little else planned for the beauty regime that birth neither demands nor requires here. Hell, most of it I can't see, which is a damn fine thing, all things considered really.

So that's it, I'm signing off as I look forward to a week of ~~pampering ? please? and room service meals and delightful visitors showering us with gifts~~ welcoming a new person into our lives, getting to know him, watching the girls meet him for the first time and getting a handle on breastfeeding a newborn again. And maybe just a little of the pleasure of having meals cooked for me so I can focus on our new little one.

I'll be off air until I am home and once again Internet connected (no, I don't have an iPhone, so can't blog from there, which is prolly a very good thing)

So til then....

Thanks for all the messages of love and support and 'luck'...

*mwah* !

Are you a Pott-Head?

2011-07-22T13:36:00.000+10:00

[An old friend of mine liked to call me this when she asked if I had read any of the Harry Potter books. So sadly I can't take credit for the witty use of slang here.]

So I am, a Pott-head in the sense of being a Harry Potter and Hogwarts fan of both the literature and cinematographic sense. Plus that Daniel Radcliffe was such a cute kid, and now a very handsome young man, one who seems to have his head on straight no less. (I'll stop there, as it seems very wrong to say anything other that that....)

I was enthralled and entranced by the world J.K. Rowling set up surrounding that magical school and the wonderful inhabitants. I loved the good vs evil and the illusions of 'all may not be as it appears' world she illustrated so well with words. When it was first released I wondered why anyone would want to read a kids book, until it was personally recommended as a great read.

But. They are not children's books really. Older primary at best, certainly for the level of reading proficiency required. I love what this woman has done for making reading interesting again for kids, especially boys. Novels are for everyone, and it's great she has inspired a legion of young novel readers.

I was equally impressed by the movies. Whilst movie versions are rarely better than the book (with the rare exception of My Sister's Keeper where the movie ending far surpassed the stupid book ending. In my humble opinion, that is), these movies lived up to my expectations. They couldn't contain the same level of detail, of course, but they did their job, and well. The roles were perfectly cast, and I loved that Rowling insisted on maintaining the British feel by employing only British actors. Brilliant. The scenes, sets and costuming were often just as I had pictured them in my mind's eye, so for those reasons they lived up to what I hoped to see on film. Indeed a few concepts in the books I couldn't quite picture were helped in my understanding by the movie's portrayal of them.

But they are not kids movies. There are some damn frightening concepts and visuals in the movies, particularly this last one, so fresh in my mind that we saw it (at Gold Class, squee!) this week. I am having a hard time imagining at what age I would deem it appropriate my kids watch them. I am thinking at least 12 years of age. Which is why I am so disturbed by the kids' reviews of ages even as young as 7 and 8 I have seen cropping up in papers, and the Prep kids at school brandishing promotional wands about the place. Whilst the premise sounds fun and whimsical, even the first book contained a disturbing ending, which of course sets the the scene for future story lines. J.K. Rowling was brilliant at that, weaving in bits and pieces that all become relevant later. I loved her magic in that way. But I feel quite strongly they aren't for young kids. even the good triumphing over evil doesn't justify the viewing by young impressionable eyes for me.

What do you think? Too much violence and dark concepts for Primary aged kids? Did you let your older kids watch them? How did they cope? Would you let them read but not watch? Or am I merely a cotton wool smother-mother??

Are you even into HP? Or did it all seem a bit childish to you? Are you mourning the end of an era, or will you go back and re-read the books to gain even more insight into the genius web that Rowling spun right from the very beginning? Or are you more of a Twilight fan, which I myself could never understand the attraction of....

~ ~ ~

Oh, and by they way, juuuust in case you were wondering what I was on about earlier, you can see young 'Arry is all grown up now... (slinking off) ....

3 little words

2011-07-18T09:30:00.000+10:00

Three little words, all beginning with V that should never need to be uttered in the same sentence.

Brought to you today for your amusement at my own expense, of course, and as always.

Not necessarily in this order.....

Varicose. Vein. Vulva.

Yep.

Just wrong, on a number of levels, especially when it applies to yourself.

Aahhh, the glamour!

Don't remember reading about that in any celebrity preggo and birth stories......

What is with the "We must catch up before..."?

2011-07-15T09:18:00.004+10:00

That timeline countdown to the big day, where it seems everything must happen BEFORE.

It happens frequently at Christmas too.

"We really must catch up before Christmas"

Why?

Apart from the fun it is to socialise with people you like, why must it always be before? Often these are quick visits between other social functions, work 'do's, school and other activity break ups, not to mention all the shopping, wrapping, cooking and cleaning. God, I am fatigued just thinking about it.

Unless you have gifts to exchange, or are going to be away for all of January, why the rush to do it all before the Big Red Guy comes? That end of the year is busy enough without trying to crowd in a visit with every man and his dog for a social drink. I often find it's people who say this in person, at another function or social event, already being held in early December.

'This is it, this is our catch up before Christmas' I sometimes think. Too nice to say it out loud really, but I should.

I much prefer a lazy BBQ or picnic with friends after the chaos of the Silly Season in that week before New year, or heck, in the beautiful lazy Summer days of January. When there is plenty of time, generally.

Maybe that's just me, I can be a bit selfish of my time and like to pace myself. I don't like to be busy every day. And that seems to happen frequently in December as I can't seem to say no.

~~~

So that is why I am irritated now. Why the rush to catch up with so many people 'before the baby comes' at their insistence? Do I cease to exist in the after, unable to string two words together, a portrait of sleep deprivation and lactating insanity? I wasn't before with the girls, not sure why anyone would think I will be this time.

You won't be intruding, especially if you are dear friends whom we enjoy spending time with. We'll want to see you to share our new bundle of joy. Most people know their time limits when visiting a new babe, and if not, my DBH is as subtle as a sledge hammer when needed.

Case in point. We saw friends 2 weekends ago for their daughter's birthday. It was a casual affair with lots of time to stand around and chat. In fact I found it was quite relaxing for a kids party, especially so since all our husbands seemed to do the kid wrangling at the small, clean (!) and quiet play centre we were at. My friend and I managed to do plenty of yakking.

"We really must catch up before the baby is born" my friend ~~drops on me~~ says.

So I said it.

"What is it are we doing now then?" I asked, with a big grin on my face, knowing I had about 3 weeks to go.

"Oh you..." she said with a playful shove on my arm. I get that a lot from her. I must say deranged things all the time to her. I left it at that.

So now we have had the emails from the husband during the week.

"Was thinking of shooting over for a quick hello before Al has the baby if she is up for it"

Actually no, thanks, seeing as we just caught up. We're booked solid this weekend and next weekend is a self imposed rest period, well, for before the baby comes.

Yes I am exhausted and no, I haven't really been taking it easy as I have been trying to arrange our house for another person, purchase a new car, car seats and relocating our study. Plus I have two other busy kids.

Hey, here's a thought, come visit us after. You are going to anyway, to see the baby, you know you are.

Come see me at home where there are less time limits for visitors and more room for the kids to play.

Heck, bring me lunch and do my ironing for me! Keep me company in the many days where I will be cooped up at home unable to drive anywhere post caeser and my DBH is at work.

Come with your whole family in the late arvo and we'll get takeaway for dinner. You know I hate cooking at the best of times, so give me another excuse not to!

But for Goodness sake, let's not try and squeeze it all in before as well. I have just over a week to go. I promise I won't change, I'll still be me, with a little blue extra. And Lord knows you've seen my boobs out with my other babies, so don't let that put you off.

So let's catch up SOON, yeah? But in the after, mmkay? Ta.

All babies get hungry...

2011-07-10T10:23:00.000+10:00

and yes, that is a sugar laden cereal in her bowl.

I am THAT kind of mother in the school holidays!

Judge me if you can be bothered, I sure as hell can't. (Besides, the DBH eats them too...)

But all that aside, I love that baby needed her own bowl and spoon, of course.

And the winner is ...

2011-07-08T08:49:00.000+10:00

... drumroll....

using my ever so technology friendly device of drawing a name out of a hat....

or at least a slip of paper out of a 'fish tank' thanks to my very own assistant....

is Caz (The Truth About Mummy)!!

I'll be in contact shortly Caz, hope it helps make you rich!

Now, just in the spirit of transparency, I give you the adjudicators.

"A bit like cheating"

2011-07-05T08:55:00.000+10:00

That's what a colleague at work said to me on my last shift last week. In response to my answer that, yes, I was having an 'elective ceaser' this time (again).

"Seems a bit like cheating, missing all that labour and pushing"

My skin is a bit thicker these days, well so I thought. I looked directly at another colleague for support whom I know had two c/s for her babies and replied, with her emphatically nodding

"It doesn't feel like cheating once the spinal wears off, let me assure you"

[image source]

"Well yes, I suppose you've had abdominal surgery, although there are no peri stitches to worry about..." she trailed off. We were standing in an ICU after all, where people have abdominal surgery and we see the after effects of every day.

God, why did I let that comment irk me later? I thought I handled it quite well at the time. I am over being judged. I didn't even feel like defending myself with the whole thin uterine scar and potential for rupture thing rendering it extremely dangerous for a VBAC this time. I didn't feel I needed to, my decision was made, in fact made for me this time. That was the beauty of it in some ways, I didn't have to wrestle with it like I did with Little Miss. It is what it is. The sunroof option is just part of my pregnancy and birth stories for all my living children. Even my non living child needed an anaesthetic to be born, tiny as she was.

I'm disappointed that a vaginal birth won't be part of my experience as a mother but it doesn't define me. God knows there are plenty of horror stories about the natural option too. I have moved past the disappointment and have moved on to the positives of being able to plan the care of my other children on the big day, providing nothing starts of it's own accord first, of course.

But cheating? Get stuffed. Birth is just the next step in motherhood, pregnancy being the first hurdle. Motherhood extends far beyond the day of birth, in fact in many ways that is the easiest day! At least that day I get to spend it in bed with my meals brought to me, my baby handed to me for feeding whilst someone else changes him. People will bring me flowers and cards and there will be happy faces everywhere. What heaven. Cheating in my book would be getting a full time nanny, and I can see why some people need that. I'd never say it out loud to them, that is their choice and what is best for their family.

I don't condone the c/s rate we have in this country. In fact I am quietly ashamed to be contributing to the private sector stats, when I am such a believer in Mother Nature knowing best, having babies whilst standing or squatting, not lying reclined. About letting waters break on their own and giving birth in water if that's where you feel most comfortable. I believe in breastfeeding and co sleeping if that works for you (yes to the former, no to the latter for me).

But I believe in Medicine too. Some diseases can only be cured or controlled with a surgeon's knife or a pharmacists drug.

And some babies need the sunroof option to keep them and their mothers healthy and around to nurture other children. When they do, thank God for the talented and dedicated team of Doctors and Nurses it takes to make it happen.

So ner.

That's really what I should have said.

Dammit.

The best comebacks always come to me later!

Wanna make a buck? Slash win a GIVEAWAY??

2011-06-30T10:35:00.000+10:00

Well look no further. The gorgeous Kylie from the Aspiring Millionaire has a new blog and she is such a clever young thing (and oh so much younger than I, but I digress) that she has just published her very own book (her second, no less)! And somehow I was fortunate enough for a sneak peek!

Don't we just have THE purdiest money??

So who doesn't want to make a buck? Her book is aptly titled ...

365 ways to Make Money.

Ideas for quick $ every day of the year.

This is a very reader friendly book. Broken into themed chapters, you can either read it cover to cover like I did, as I am a nerd and hate to think I might miss something great in chapters I might have deemed irrelevant to me - like 'making money with cars'. Or pick and choose a theme that suits you best. Each idea is concise and to the point and will direct you to further resources if necessary, so it's easy to pick up and read in short bursts, excellent of you have small creatures constantly begging for your attention as I do.

There is of course great advice on how to get started, setting goals, marketing and motivation. Then there is an amazing array of ideas in there, from the more obvious, like sell old stuff on eBay, or hold a garage sale, to things I'd never heard of, like receive trailing commissions (you'll have to read the book to discover more about that one!) or making a Squidoo lens (what?!) Complete with nifty little symbols to help you navigate the book and decide on your likely of ease of achievement, potential earning capacity and level of commitment - financial or educational to each idea, it's one easy read for time poor people.

Not everything will suit everyone, of course, as variety makes the world go around. Personally, I can't stand the idea of opening my home as a bed and breakfast, in fact I already do that to 2 small people with another forthcoming. But completing online surveys and product reviews appeals to my mostly SAHM status, as does my little dream selling my own art as an option for the future. Besides all that, anyone can do washing or ironing for money, and this book will give you a few extra pointers on how to do it all successfully.

Importantly, it gives a lot of ideas for everyone no matter your circumstance. If you do want to change career, or start one, there are many things that need a bit of education to get started. It points to some things you might have access to already but had never thought of applying it into a money making venture. The book also gives ways to use assets you may already have, skills and talents you might possess and it lends itself to the under 18's as well, where making money whilst at school can be difficult. You would be very hard pressed not to find a few things in Kylie's book that you couldn't undertake for yourself. If not, well, she addresses excuse making and finding the time as well!

So there really is no excuse, there are heaps of great ideas in there, go forth and start buck making....

Now, for one lucky fellow, you can get your paws on your very own signed-by-the-awesome-author copy!

The fine print...

Entries open to Australian readers only please
Please pretty please follow me if you don't already - who doesn't need some self promotion?
Go visit Kylie's blog/s...
and tell me what great tip you found over there....
OR one of your own great money making tips
Make sure I can contact you if you are the winner. (ie please leave your email if you are not contactable via your profile)
Do all this and leave a comment here by next Thursday the 7th of July and the winner will be announced here on Friday. I'll do a random number doo-hicky if I can work it out but will probably end up doing some sort of hat arrangement!
Good luck!!

Breaking the cycle

2011-06-29T10:13:00.000+10:00

My kids watch far too much TV, I am sure. Also I am sure I am not the only mum that feels this way, and the guilt sometimes gets to me. After all, they like it, they request it, and they are watching kids shows, and it affords me some downtime. But the experts say too much is no good, and certainly none for the under-twos (oh dear) and it can actually alter eyesight and lead to obesity etc. I know I've heard it all before, and we're not even dealing with older kids wanting to watch adult oriented shows containing potential sex and violence yet. Phew, not looking forward to all of that either.

[image source]

I'm not talking about all day everyday viewing here. We have rules in place too. No TV before school. No TV during meal times and no TV after dinner and before bed. We are actively trying to avoid buying a new car that contains a DVD player. We just don't need to added pressure of more opportunities for screen watching. But if I left the telly on, they'd watch it. Like moths to a flame, they can't help but be drawn to it. But most days there would be at least an hour, if not two. Weekends are often worse. Big Miss gets a bit less now as there is less time after school, but often after readers are done and baths are had as dinner is being prepared the box goes on. It's rarely my suggestion. Little Miss loves her Dora and those damned DVD episodes go for about 40 mins, and if left unattended or without choosing an ep, there are 3 of those babies on there and it just keeps cycling. (And God, who needs that much Dora voice in one day???)

Unless you are a) a perfect parent, b) are in denial or c) the best option of all -have no TV then you probably know what I am talking about.

But I can keep a lid on all that, I can be firm and say no and put up with the whining (apparently the MOST obnoxious sound in the world, now we have proof to back up that claim!) and find alternate activities. But it's the request for TV before we even reach home that is driving me spare. Like an obsession, it's one of the first things they think of whilst en route to our next destination, usually home. That's where the guilt comes in, because I should say no more often, probably. I never commit to it if we are not home, but as I said before, putting the telly in is rarely my idea so I have this feeling of giving in which I don't like.

The thing is, when I limit it, and warn them of a need to turn off, they are fine. Like all things in moderation, they are happy with a little if not a lot.

So recently I made a decision. At least 2 TV free days a week. I've done it before, more subconsciously than anything and after the initial cold turkey and withdrawal stage, they are juuust fine.

We're on day 3 right now and I am happily typing away listening to the background noise of play. Little Miss, on her own, nattering about princesses and ponies, and someone in jail, the beating of a drum and the other odd musical instrument. It is music to my ears. Both my girls have always played really well on their own. But after a TV binge diet, it's like they forget when suddenly the box is not an option. Often, to bash out a blog post I'd need to telly in order not to have constant interruptions. Not today, so far all I've had to do was procure said drum out from it's hiding place under a bed. Too easy. Happy to do so.

So that's my secret I think. We just need to break the cycle once in a while and allow them to be bored until they can find their own thing to do. Put up with the TV DT's and reap the rewards later. I'm not saying there won't be any telly later today, or tomorrow, or heaven forbid in a month when I need to attend to a newborn. but I know from experience that it won't be as forcefully requested, as heartbreakingly turned down or as obsessively needed. So for us it seems that less really does become more.

What about you? Do you feel guilt about how much screen time your kids have? Be that telly, computer, video consoles, handheld video games - thankfully another are we have not delved into yet. Do you do anything to monitor or remedy it, or do you think we let too many scientists dictate to us what is good for our families? (I must admit sometimes I feel like that.) Do you like the idea of breaking the cycle and having a nominated no TV days?

Go on let me have it! I know I'm not perfect!!

Doggy dementia

2011-06-24T11:38:00.001+10:00

She's 16 years old. That's about 112 in dog years. At least, could be more. We got her 15 years ago and she was an adult then, the vet guesstimated about a year old. She's deaf as a post but still quite lively in her own way and seemingly happy. But arthritic. And now, I fear, a bit demented.

She's taken to soiling her bed when inside. This is the dog that would hang out for 24 hours if she had to rather than disgrace herself near us. Then there was the time recently when she pooed in the 2 minute car ride home from the vet. After she'd already done it on the table there. And a wee on the floor. Then managed to smear it all over the boot as she then wouldn't stop the wanders. I was Not Happy Jan that day.

The inside thing man, it's killing me. I clean up enough sh*t in my personal and professional life without her adding to it. Unfortunately it is putting a strain and a time limit on her visits inside which is a shame as often it's the only highlight of her day, and she seems to be in so much pain with the arthritis, it's the only thing I can do that makes us both feel better. And we get to love her so much more. Walking more than the circuit of the court is beyond her now Not that she wouldn't do it, she would, but she shouldn't. All that stumbling and shaking and weakness. And spending endless wintry hours outside with her is beyond me.

What to do? We keep on with her, but I hate to think of the long winter ahead, and whether she can survive another. I keep hoping I'll find her curled up in a ball no longer breathing, warm in her bed. So often our animals aren't that kind to us, forcing us into decisions an car rides we'd rather not take. And the girls, I am dreading that day for them too as they do so love their Jess.

That's all. I'm just worried for our first baby. I'd hate to think I am prolonging things unnecessarily. I am praying she will let me know when it is time. Or take matters into her own paws, as it were.

History and baby loss

2011-06-16T14:34:00.000+10:00

I was fortunate enough to score a ticket to the Tutankhamun exhibition yesterday. I admit to being fascinated by Egyptology and the Pharaohs and their dealing with the afterlife as a teenager. So I was looking forward to viewing some of the ancient pieces they had on display. Firstly the incredible quality and condition most of these items were in for a mere 3000 years old was nothing short of astonishing. Glass, gold, stone and metals I'd expect to last. Wood, paint and fibres not so much, but there they were in all their unrestored glory.

Below is an image of a replica of the Mummy of King Tutankhamun. The original has never left Egypt and never will. But the replica is the only of it's kind and was just as fascinating. He died at age 19, unexpectedly and the cause remains a mystery. Only the shape of that skull does not seem in any way normal to me and may have been contributed to by the likelihood that his parents were brother and sister. Royalty and their snobbery to mix with commoners does not pay off.

[King Tut replica image source]

I was most thrilled by this golden dagger, found buried with him at waist height between layers of linen for protection in the afterlife. I have never seen anything so exquisitely decorated. The handle is all etched and the sheath has illustrations all over it. This photo does not do it justice. Fit for a King indeed.

[golden dagger image source]

Then there was the beautiful and ornate furniture, below a carved wooden stool to resemble an animal skin with ducks on the legs. Below that is an ebony and ivory child's chair and footrest, most likely his very own as a child.

[stool image source]

[chair image source]

But even more so I was struck by the large photographs showing Howard Carter's original discovery. The antechamber to the tomb was filled with stuff. But not orderly stacked and arranged as I'd have assumed, mind you. But seemingly tossed in in haste. It's a wonder anything withstood the packing let alone the recovery.

[Tomb 1 image source]

If you look hard above you will see the stool on the floor and below you can see the ebony and ivory chair in their original position. You know, amongst the chariots (disassembled to create space I guess), boxes, gilded dogs, chests, stone jars, replica boats and so forth. Even small carved human figures - shabti's were placed in there for whatever menial and laborious tasks were needed in the afterlife. Replica food and the small boats were presumed to be magically transformed if they were required too. The planning was immense, and given that this tomb was not planned for the Boy-King, as they did not expect him to die so suddenly, the thought that went into this, no matter how flawed we think it now is inspirational.

[Tomb 2 image source]

It fascinates me that the ancient Egyptians found the lungs, liver, stomach and intestines so important that they removed them and mummified them separately, placing them into separate jars and then a larger vessel, adequately labelled so as not to accidentally retrieve your wife's vital organs should you be buried with her. The heart was saved too but I saw no mention of what they did with that. The brain? Eh, whatevs the ancient Egyptians thought, and niftily yanked that piece of grey and seemingly useless mush out through the nostrils. Nice.

In short, the Egyptians did death. They got it. They embraced it, planned for it and welcomed an afterlife.They did death much better that we do now I think, in many ways.

What really struck me though, (and forgive this pic below as it is far from the best to illustrate what I am trying to show you) was this. They did baby loss as well.

Found in the tomb were two tiny mummified "foetuses". I used inverted commas as that is how these babies were referred to everywhere. Only they were babies, stillborn, estimated to be around 5 to 6 months gestation. Both girls, possibly twins and presumed to be the King's daughters. Each had gone through her own mummification process, and each had a nested coffin like their father, shown below. Only one had a golden death mask, for reasons unknown, but both had an internal and then external sarcophagus intricately patterned and decorated, just beautiful.

[Infant sarophagus' image source]

[Baby coffin image source]

This one shown here was tiny, and might I add, not a dissimilar size to Kristen's own coffin. It took my breath away. Maybe 40cm in length which allowed for the several layers involved for such a tiny person. I have since found pictures of these babies which are mildly distressing even in their ancient state, so there is more info and pics to be found here if you want a further look .... {King Tut's children}. But what had me glued in place reading the information was the thought that such care and compassion had gone into the burial of these tiny girls. Deceased children I'd have certainly understood. But coming from that murky place of pregnancy loss and it's sometimes un-acknowledged status of grief it causes, it overwhelmed me that ancient civilisations felt the same as we do now.

Considering only half to one century ago women were told not to view or hold their dead babies after giving birth to them, it's nice to think that the world hasn't always been this way.

The only thing that distressed me more about this whole process is the disturbance to the tombs and sarcophagus' themselves. I don't believe in curses and the like, but if ever there was a case for one, the opening and dissecting of graves would be right up there. I know it's about discovering history, and it's hypocritical of me having just paid money to see these treasures, but still, a little of me felt uneasy thinking about not only their father, but these little babies being unwrapped and exposed.

But still, if nothing else it highlights the simple fact that these people were loved and adored, so much so that so much work would go into their death preservation afterlife planning. A saying was written on the wall of the exhibition summarising the Egyptian attitude toward loved ones after death.

"To speak the name of the dead is to make them live again"

I think there is something in that for all of us.

Goodbye and hello

2011-06-14T09:38:00.000+10:00

"goodbye faded aux gold taps, weird wooden pelmet over flouro light and tiny tiny cupboard"

"goodbye curtains I made 600 years ago to cover up a dark unused window"

"goodbye dark slate floor and view of toilet from doorway"

"goodbye oh so lovely and oh so '80's picture tiles...

...with 2 smaller matching features dotted about room"

"goodbye I-must-have-knick-knacks-on-me-railing that surrounded the whole room"

"goodbye hideous roof pine lining making it look like a Swedish sauna"

"goodbye weird shower in the middle of the room - plus I never could keep your glass clean"

"goodbye triangle spa with your useless side jets, noisy pump and toy collecting shelf"

"Goodbye Porpoise Spit!"

...............

Helllooo beautiful clean tiles, clean grout and smooth textures.

Welcome clean white and gorgeous chrome, soothing stone colours.

And by God I hope you are easy to keep clean!

Is it wrong to be in love with a bathroom?

A nursery rhyme gone a little bit bad

2011-06-10T11:53:00.000+10:00

Big Miss is obsessed with horses. I think I've established that. She also loves to sing. So daddy put a new twist on a nursery rhyme, just for her. (If I had a clue how to You Toob it I'd have done so with a cute rendition of Little Miss performing it, but sorry, you'll have to use your imagination...)

So sing along with me now, in cyberspace, to the tune of 'Row, Row, Row Your Boat'.

And please pay attention to the pause in the last line, he put it in and the girls imitate it perfectly.

"Ride, ride, ride your horse

Really really fast!

If you forgot to put your saddle on,

You will get a sore ......

Bottom!"

He has a lot to answer for, yes?

Yes, I think so!! Still, I do giggle like a little kid every time I hear them do it.....

Who needs a baby-jail?

2011-06-03T09:56:00.001+10:00

ermm, I mean play pen?

Little Miss loves playing in my washing baskets - on the odd occasions they are empty that is.

Ahem.

She can get in....

But can't... or won't get out by herself!

(cue evil laugh here Whoa hoa hoa hoa or something!)

Alas, I can only take the bellowing pleading for so long.

You'll be pleased to know she is free now.

Now go forth and flog!

Dobbing, a social conundrum

2011-05-27T13:44:00.002+10:00

Big Miss is 5. She is a 'dobber'. Always has been. I'm not exactly sure why, as if anything I am the opposite and am more likely to confront someone directly than go to a superior and complain.

I don't really like the trait in her, and I'm not entirely sure why either.

It comes in handy. Like when one kid is bashing another kid on a play date out of sight that may or may not be featuring her as the victim. Or someone is jumping on the top bunk and she knows they shouldn't be. She dobs. Handy, as over coffee at someone's house we are not always privy to what goes on in the bedrooms out of earshot. Many an accident or full blown punch up between tots has been avoided at the hands of my little dobber.

But I say it a lot. I've heard other parents say it too. "Stop dobbing", "don't tell tales", "mind your own business and don't worry about what little xyz is doing".....etc.

I don't know where to draw the line. Is it the dobbing on the little things that she has just been told off for as she feels indignation that someone else should get away with the same crime that bugs me? Is it the constant retelling about the same dobbee for something they have just been reprimanded for that drives me spare? Is it the social awkwardness and playground jibes that comes with dobbing? Is it the parental like attitude she takes when dobbing? Or is it often the awkward position I find myself in maybe having to reprimand another's child, or worse, then dobbing to their parent so Big Miss sees some action for her often valid complaint?

We don't reward adults for dobbing. Think whistleblowers. Even the grown up name has negative connotations and so called whistleblowers are often ostracised and lose friends and jobs over the issue. They sometimes have to blow their whistle under the disguise of anonymity. Where does that leave our kids when leading by example?

What about when serious crime happens, is witnessed and not reported?

It is tricky and an aspect of parenting that has truly left me perplexed. I value honesty and integrity and looking after your fellow person. In some aspects dobbing is rooted and safety and protection. In morality and ethics and in rule following that some kids so adore. In some aspects it is rooted in jealousy and petty differences. Maybe it's here that I find myself divided and don't really know how to approach it when teaching my child.

How do you deal with dobbing? Do you embrace it when it's between your own children or relatives children? Do you shun the behaviour at all costs? How to find the balance? Any tips, hints, suggestions or personal stories are welcome!

Much closer than you think my dear

2011-05-22T19:50:00.000+10:00

A conversation today with Big Miss (5).... about an item just like this;

She: Mum, where did this come from? I know Nanny gave it to me....

Me: I'm not sure hun, I think she just had it in her cupboard.

She: No, I mean what island did it come from? I think she meant what country....

She, without waiting for an answer: Hmmm, I think it maybe came from China.

Well my darling, that is far more accurate than any mamby pamby Australianised answer I was about to give you!!

Public Property

2011-05-20T11:29:00.000+10:00

I've been here and done this before. Pregnancy. I know random people reach out and want to touch it. If they ask first and I at least know their name, then go on, knock yourself out. I quite enjoy feeling myself up too.

But the comments are draining me this time. Maybe it's because I've heard it all before. But really, I thought they would get less with time and experience, not worse and more invasive.

So, to clarify.

Yes, I know I am huge. But you'll have to agree I look divine. Pregnancy suits me, so thanks for noticing and complimenting me on my curvaceous shape, glossy hair, fabulous skin and lack of elephant proportions weight gain. Or I guess you meant to do that right after the statement about my gestational girth. I'll take it that you meant it that way, not that I should be put in a museum or anything.

No, it's not due any day, just 12 weeks left to be precise, thankyouverymuchly. Oh, I'll cope, as I kinda have to, and I did this ballooning thing with my last child and I don't gestate gigantic melon headed newborns, just your average 7 pounders.

And don't worry, even if it is a gigantic melon headed roly poly, I'll be bypassing my birth canal because indeed, as you assumed with that off hand comment in regards to my 'birth plan' (pffft) I AM too posh to push. I've engaged an obstetrician and am paying him a king's ransom, so I wanted to get my money's worth.
[If you know me at all then you'll of course realise that is completely and utterly tongue in cheek and still to this day remain somewhat devastated I can't birth vaginally. I have accepted it, but the 'laziness', remarks about my 'unstretched or honeymoon vagina' - I kid you not, and 'poshness' comments directed right at me really cut to the core more than you'd imagine as I laugh you off. Don't assume anything about me and my girly bits]

NO it's not twins, but how kind of you to ask.

Yes, we know and yes, it is a boy. Oh, and yes we are thrilled, but we'd have been with another girl too so please stop acting like all our prayers were answered. I am hereby insulted for the girl we might have had (and still might I should add, they can get it wrong!) that you act this way now you know it's a boy.

Yes, this one was planned (WTF? Since when is that part of polite conversation?)

Yes, this will be our last child all things going to plan (ditto on the last point). So now you do know the answer to the last question if I do ever find myself in this situation again. Great.

No, we are not relieved that we are through the worst of it or out of the woods yet. I have a very thin uterine lining over my previous scar(s) and ongoing bleeding as recently as this week that is irritating at best and worrisome at worst. Not that I'd tell you all that oh random person (yet publish it on my public blog, go figure! No one really reads this anyway, do they? Do they?)

Yes, I guess I'll be busy. Busier than now. Thanks for pointing that out, like it's a negative. I hadn't thought about it at all of course. And no, random Bunnings lady, I won't have 'two under 2' as you look at my almost 2.5 year old. She's already 2, which with the 5 year old I just left at school makes three under 5, hardly anything earth shattering in the spacing stakes I'd say. But I did leave her bug-eyed when I mentioned the missing child, laughing at her notion I'd be busy with a second when it is in fact a third (in the practical sense, as I've almost given up explaining the whole 4th child thing).

Thanks for letting me vent, I know everyone experiences these things, but this week it's all piling up on me. Plus, isn't bitching and moaning what blogs are for?

Have been absent for some time, and will endeavour to find something much cheerier to write about soon, I hope!

xxx

Little orange balls of bittersweet love.

2011-05-02T14:30:00.000+10:00

I recently happened across some treasure!

[image source]

Little orange balls of bittersweet love, otherwise known as cumquats.

They make the most delicious marmalade, which is just as well as to eat one is akin to scoffing a lemon whilst sucking down grapefruit juice! But oh, in marmalade they take on a glorious bittersweet tang, and it has nothing on boring orange marmalade at all. My dear Nan used to make it, and it holds many happy childhood memories in each delectable mouthful. So rare a commodity is this marmalade, it can't be store bought, oh no. Only very occasionally do I spy some at a handmade or craft and produce market. And you can bet that when I do find it, I buy the place out of jars, enough for Mum too as she loves it also.

So when I was at Dad's place and I spotted a cute little tree in a pot I've never paid much attention to, until now it was covered in cute little orange fruit. I enquired as to their species, and dear old Dad wasn't sure. So although no longer a cute topiary covered in fruit otherwise going to waste, he generously let me raid it and bring home the goods. I was then charged with the task of ~~googling~~ finding a good cumquat marmalade recipe, post haste before the fruit had a chance to spoil. But I found a beauty, and am happy to share if you should so be willing as to ask.

Every one of these little beauties, the size of a walnut has an infuriating 7 to 10 pips in it! That was a lot of slicing, sorting and storing of the pips - they are used to help the marmalade set, so I have been educated.

Now I am no Suzie-homemaker in the pickling, jamming and marmalading ways. This was all a bit new to me, but I was not to be deterred. I cut, I sliced, I simmered and I stirred. And stirred. And stirred.

But it was worth it, here are the results! 5 little pre washed and sterlised jars of citrussy deliciousness! Quite proud of my first marmalade achievements I am, and Mum was rapt too. Not sure Dad wants any, but I promised to share the bounty of my work with him when I had finished.

Now I just gotta ask Santa for my very own tree and I'll never go (marmalade) hungry again!

Why didn't I think of it before?!

Mmmm, off for marmalade on toast (there is no other way to have it, though I must try it on scones) and a cup of tea. How very appropriately British after the excitement of this week!

PS... I so wanted to name this post "Cum-whats?" after I exclaimed vibrantly that those little citrus items hanging from Dad's tree must be cumquats. To which the DBH replied "cum whats?" ... evidently not listening all these years I have raved about cumquat marmalade when I have been fortunate enough to find some at a little market. But I elected against that post title for the possible spam it would attract as well as visitors who are quite possibly after another type of website altogether..... Shame, though I think!

A day to remember

2011-04-29T10:57:00.000+10:00

This post is all about me. And him. (Not them.)

Because WE were married on the 29th of April, precisely eleven years ago.

[image source]

A day when I got to be a Princess and marry my Prince Charming.

There were no carriages, ice sculptures, celebrities or camera crews.

No red carpet, blue blood or silver service.

Just me him, friends and family. A band, a simply gorgeous cake, great food, lots of dancing and some lovely bubbly at a local blue stone winery.

I wouldn't change a thing.

Actually I lie. He was sick that day, man-flu. Not good. I'd change that. He is sick again today threatening our plans of dinner out alone, a very rare and precious thing.

But still I love him, knowing that he will come home with flowers and apologising profusely for the card he forgot to buy when he receives mine.

I love him because we are on similar life paths, we share similar attitudes, beliefs and ethics. Plus a great sense of humour. Because he takes care of his mum, and mine. He is a great father and a caring lover. Nowadays too he has this great salt and pepper thing going on in his hair that I find so damned attractive. But most of all he is my bestie, sharing our life has been an adventure I wish to continue. Even if he never cleans the bathroom, I think I can live with that. He does occasionally vaccuum and mop, so I say he's a keeper.

Happy eleventh hun.

And take those damned cold and flu tablets, I want a night out!

Right before Easter

2011-04-21T08:42:00.001+10:00

This is exactly what we need.

NOT!

(Thanks DBH, for being talked into buying that brand of paint to get the 4L tin of M&M's "free".)

Well they are borrowing our day...

2011-04-20T08:52:00.000+10:00

So they are fair game to me!

I reckon this will be the more interesting version of Will's and Kate's big day....

We so already rocked the 29th of April wedding thang, like 11 years ago. That's okay, they can borrow our day, I spose.

FWIW I really had to look closely at Camilla, and Harry was a pretty good match also!

I hate play centres.

2011-04-11T14:06:00.000+10:00

There, I've said it. Does that make me a bad mother? I can't help it, I despise them.

I understand they are somewhat of a necessary evil. In winter they can be a Godsend. Even at other times when you consider that not many parks are completely enclosed, weather proof and with access to hot coffee. So I get why people use them. I have been guilty of arranging to meet at one or two myself, so I am not casting any stones here. Parties are easy to arrange there. Kids are gloriously exhausted when you leave even if your wallet is a bit lighter.

But can I help it if I find them filthy? Everywhere my sweet smelling cherubs run in their pristine little socks I see glimpses of accidents past. A wee accident here, a post party food vommie there, and snot snot everywhere. I mean really, how do you really clean up after a wet pants episode in the ball pit? I've seen the staff attend to it, and thorough it was not. Eww.

Plus the cost?! Dare to have more than one child and you'll be lucky to escape without paying less than $15. I even went to one where they dared to charge $6 for crawlers aged 1 to 2 (ok, fair enough, the big kids were charged at closer to $10) but infants under 12 months were a buck! WTF? Pretty sure my 5 month old infant in the pram won't be soiling your bouncy castle any time soon, so why the charge?

What about the don't BYO food rule? I know why they do it. And I'm damn sure it has less to do with food and safety regulations and more to do with the bottom line. But I still object to paying $2.50 for a Vegemite sandwich that my child won't fully eat when I can bring that myself from home for next to nix. And take home the scraps.

But surely the biggest coup for these places is the coffee. That must be really where they make their cash. Because I can't remember one time when I haven't succumbed to the roasted bean smell just to keep my sanity intact to survive the outing. Brilliant was the person who thought up these places, but genius were the ones that added parental hot caffeinated drinks.

But my absolute pet hate about these play warehouses? The large unsupervised rogue kids. The ones that tear around at a thousand clicks taking out smaller children in their wake. The ones that seemingly have no parents until you take issue with one barging into and taking over the toddler area, then they appear then wondering why you have the gall to speak to their child. Yet do nothing to alter the behaviour of their progeny.

Aaah, yes, we spent a leisurely morning at a play centre yesterday for a party. It starts out innocently enough, and I usually remember to take a spare pair of socks to replace the blackened ones at the end of the day. There are only a few kids and everyone gets a solitary bounce on the castle. Lovely. Then it heads towards lunchtime and the brats are packed in and the noise approaches rock concert levels. My shoulders get tight and my coffee gets cold as I console my smallest through another crying episode after being knocked over / pushed / hit or bitten. The constant squinting to spot them at the top of the very highest structure begins to give me a headache signals it is time to go home. Thank God they usually provide copies of the latest Child magazine so I have something to read later over a cup of tea.

So we have a sigh of relief and drag our unwilling children to the care, and I swear I'll never, ever enter one again.

At least til next week.

It is school holidays after all.

But I won't like it, dammit!

Dreams

2011-04-07T12:22:00.000+10:00

Do you have recurring dreams?

I don't have recurring specific dreams, rather I have recurring themes. Not the same dream over and over as such, but dreams that are very similar with a certain dejavu to them.

I've never had those typical dreams - of flying, of teeth falling out, of getting lost. No, I've never found my dream theme in the women's trash mag dream interpretation guides.

Over the years my most common theme has involved me needing to go to the toilet. And generally being unable to find an appropriate place to do so. Or when I do it is in the middle of the MCG. Or in the men's toilets but with no door for privacy. More often than not it involves a lack of privacy and the terrible dilemma that presents me with. Sometimes it's merely the fear of being caught in the act. Anyone care to dream analyse that? Methinks my mother drummed it into me a bit too much the need to "go before you leave home/before your shower/before bed/whenever you can because there might not be another for miles" Etc. Trying hard not to repeat those patterns with my daughters.

In my first two pregnancies I just remember dreaming a lot. More vivid and much more often than usual, but with no specific genre to them.

Last pregnancy I had many, many X-rated adult dreams. They were hot and varied and too explicit for me to want to repeat to my ever so keen to hear husband. Mostly I relented and some days I was sorry to have woken up! I was also as randy as a rabbit in daylight hours too which may have contributed to the nocturnal flings somewhat. Not sure why, as history has not repeated itself this time around. Shame. The DBH agrees.

No, this time around I don't really want to go to sleep. I am having many dreams of a similar theme again. But these are of being chased, hunted, pursued. All the while knowing I can't escape but running anyway. The horror, the inability to scream because of the breathlessness of running.

So. Not. Fun.

Am hoping to get off this roller coaster soon and maybe go back to X rated land again, at least they were fun!

Do you have a recurring dream or theme to you dreams? Care to offer insight - be it amateur or professional - into mine???

Have we taken 'minding your own business' too far as a community?

2011-04-03T13:02:00.000+10:00

This week in Victoria, a 6 year old boy was hit and killed by a train when he was alone and wandering the streets at 7.30 in the evening. Several people saw him on his travels, including a neighbour, who at the time didn't recognise him. This neighbour saw the child avoid traffic on a major road, making it across unharmed and "thought nothing of it" and continued driving.

More from here below

Several people who'd earlier seen the autistic six-year-old wandering around Corio, lost and lonely, failed to raise the alarm.

It was only yesterday, on hearing he had been hit by an express train, that they came forward.

Some said they'd seen Kieran walking on the rail line minutes before 7.30pm on Wednesday. He was hit by the V/Line train about 300m from St Georges Rd.

Why no one stopped to help the boy has baffled police, who said a phone call might have saved his life.

A neighbour, who asked not to be named, was one of dozens who saw Kieran on his ill-fated 3km walk from home to where he died, near Geelong's Shell refinery.

He said he didn't recognise the boy, who was also almost hit by a car as he weaved on and off the Princes Highway.

It wasn't until the man got home and heard the news that he realised he could have saved the boy's life.

"I just didn't realise it was him ... I thought nothing of it," the distraught neighbour said yesterday, as he sat by the railway tracks were Kieran died.

"He was out in the traffic and made it to the other side, and I kept driving."

He said Kieran was a quiet but happy boy who was probably on his way to look at the ships docked near the refinery.

"Kids with autism can be hard to handle, but he was in his own little world," he said.

"They often get transfixed with something and when they do they are always drawn to it. I reckon he was on the way to the ships."

What I don't get is, the statement that the neighbour didn't recognise the child and didn't stop. But why didn't he stop anyway? Knowing the kid or not? It was 7 at night, the kid was alone and in the streets! Several people had the opportunity to stop him, hold him against his will if necessary while the police were called. No-one did. A family was missing him, and it ended in tragedy.

God, I am far from being a perfect parent. I have lost Big Miss in the shops not once, but twice. I know that horror of even a short and temporary separation. I have not lost Little Miss (yet) but the year is still young. If it wasn't for a couple of lovely women who chose not to mind their own business and stop my 3 year old from wandering about without an adult, I don't know how much longer it might have taken me to find her. Or worse.

Plus I know I am a big enough busybody to stop a kid from wandering to enquire as to the whereabouts of his carer. I have done it on several occasions, often without need, but even recently helped reunite a child with her mother as mine was to me in similar circumstances.

Surely an unaccompanied child is reason enough to ask a question. To investigate further. To call for help, ask the kid where his parents are, anything? We seem so afraid as a society to intervene. Men are afraid of being labelled child predators. Many are afraid of repercussions of being a 'good Samaritan'. It's true, there have been terrible cases here in Melbourne in recent memory of brave young men stepping in to stop group attacks on others with sometimes fatal consequences for themselves. But is the odd case like that reason enough to keep driving? To keep walking and not help your fellow man? To not even use that handy little devise we all carry and call someone who can help? Especially when it comes to children?

Did you know there is a general unwillingness in the community to help a collapsed stranger? That the notion of starting basic life support may somehow render the rescuer liable for an adverse outcome and so bystanders will often choose to do just that, stand by? Effectively letting someone die rather than take the perceived risk that they might somehow make it worse and then cop the blame. Yet the person in need of help still dies.

I don't know, this whole concept of political correctness and mind yourself and don't stick your nose in actually leads to a less safe community. It makes me sad. Angry and sad and more than a little bit worried for my own and my family's wellbeing if ever in need of help.

What do you think? Is personal safety a good enough reason to not help a stranger? Is the notion of minding our own business making us blind to the peril or impending danger to others like I believe happened for poor little Kieran?

Fancy a swim?

2011-04-01T11:39:00.000+11:00

Yes, Aussies really do have the best swimming beaches!

[click here for story and image source]

...and no, this is not an April Fools photo shopped joke, it was published in yesterday's paper.....

Tools of the trade

2011-03-30T10:02:00.000+11:00

I had a very busy shift last evening. Tuesdays often are, due to the nature of the cardiac surgical list that often occurs on that day. Plus I am supervising 2 post grad students so that changes the nature of my day.

We brought in a patient (to ICU) from the ward - an emergency admission for severe breathing problems. It was a disaster for a variety of reasons. But after it all calmed down a little I thought about this idea for a post I saw elsewhere and started a draft of weeks ago. Tools of the trade. The question then that was posed was - what are your essential tools of the trade that you can't do without?

As a nurse, the answer seems obvious to me. You could get all Florence about it and say 'care and and compassion'. Hmmm. Nope, that's not it. I've seen plenty of nurses get away without those essentials thankyouverymuch. But practically I would say a good stethoscope, access to hand wash, gloves, goggles and gowns. Scissors are handy, so is surgical tape in your pocket. Oh, and comfy shoes and your hair tied up. It can get hot under all that plastic and latex. Thick skin is helpful, as is the ability to stave off the attentions of lonely and often randy, sometimes (but not always) demented old men. Yessiree, did I mention the job is glamorous? Less often needed but essential and very difficult to do without items would include lubricant, a torch and a good sense of humour. (Best not to ask). Plus the ability to not breathe through one's nose.

But I wonder if you can guess the one simple tool that is essential to my job? One that I literally cannot be without. Very little work can be done without it. Well it can, but before long you'd find yourself playing catch up for the rest of the day. This is a precious commodity that nurses will rarely part with. Especially to doctors who are likely to run away with it. Never to patients where you might forget who took it, and woe betide you if you put one down on a bench and walk away. Only at your own peril would you do that. Rookie mistake.

The absolute number one tool of the trade that I can't be without as a nurse?

The humble pen.

Truly, have you ever found yourself without a pen when you really needed one? It's torture. Think about it.... all the things you need to sign, make a note of whilst out. That little accident where you need desperately to write down someones rego. No pen? You're screwed.

Nurses are the same. By law we are required to document just about friggin' everything. Sign for it, write about it, leave notes for others, check things, tick things off. Very difficult if you find yourself pen-less. (Which is different to penniless, but no more helpful if you do need a new pen!)

Four colours are best, especially in ICU (we're in an old fashioned write-on-a-paper-chart unit, we don't have one of those fancy computerised systems) where different colours are used for different things. Don't get me started on people who don't use red for the heart rate.....

This reliance on such a simple tool was highlighted last night when I ran out of blue ink. At a very critical time. Sometimes black will suffice, but not always. Nooooo! The absolute worst part about that? The time sheet must be filled in with blue ink (God knows why). So what did I have to do? Beg, borrow and steal for the lend of the pen. Luckily for me my colleagues trust me. Ha!

[apologies to the blogger who came up with this idea, I can't remember who it was - happy to give credit where credit is due if you message me. I thought it was going to to be a linky post and so started a post about it and I never did see the follow up. Apologies if I missed it!]

Just another reason

2011-03-24T09:51:00.001+11:00

why I can't stand the opposition leader of the Federal Government in this country.

Notably this week for his attacks on Julia Gillard for attending the Royal Wedding next month when she "does not believe in God, the monarchy or marriage" and for "hobnobbing" with US President Barack Obama and Prince William on his recent visit.

Really? Can you imagine the uproar if she decided not to attend the wedding? The implied disrespect for a the Royal family in our mother nation, the Commonwealth that we are still very much a part of? Or that he is implying that it would be a good idea for her not to seek an audience with the President of the United States, our biggest international ally to discuss world trade issues? She should maybe stay at home instead and let the big boys do the talking?

Are her values, beliefs and marital status relevant to her acceptance of an invitation to a wedding?

Is it really seen to be hobknobbing when one is invited to address US Congress?

This is what being a leader is bout Mr Abbott, and I can't imagine for a moment you'd be turning down any opportunities to do the same if you were in her shoes. Publicity stunts or poll boosting aside, (which I disagree is what they are). It's what leading a country entails, some good stuff with plenty of bad like making hard decisions in the face of raging criticism. This also includes official engagements like Royal weddings. Good luck to her. I'm not a monarchist either but you can bet your goody gumdrops I'd be there in a heartbeat if I scored an invite!

Since he accused her all those years ago of being "deliberately barren" I can't find much redeeming about him, politics or not. I can only imagine the outrage if she criticised his Catholicism in regard to some event he was attending. There are political swipes and jibes and then there is mudslinging and deliberate attempts to humiliate and degrade. No tactic he employs am I a fan of.

Tool.

Gift bags...

2011-03-23T09:03:00.000+11:00

Who buys these?

I can honestly say I have never in my life purchased one. But they seem to breed at my house. I have one in every size for every occasion. Massive ones, teensy tiny jewellery ones. Baby's birth (admittedly, only for girls at this stage), birthdays of any other persuasion; be it man / woman / child / elegant / cutesy /cartoony. I have them for Easter, for Christmas, ones for wine, Christmas ones for wine. They are the perfect regifting item. Not for regifts themselves but for packaging regifting, they are great. Perect for multiple gifts for the one person as I am often found doing. And I get to save stacks on wrapping paper.

I am pretty sure I am this close to opening my own gift bag store. Birthdays can't come quick enough for me to unload them.

But to whomever is out there buying them, thanks!!

Do you have a zillion of these lying around?

Do you regift them or recycle?

Love or loathe?

Slugs and snails...

2011-03-22T10:20:00.000+11:00

and puppy dogs tails.

Just a little saying I've heard.

The ultrasound went well. Baby is so far so good, healthy and has all the right bits in all the right parts.

A big relief of course.

Thanks for all the love, support, texts and comments.

We are as happy as we can be right now.

Thank you

xxx

Literally an earth moving event

2011-03-15T10:28:00.000+11:00

I can't get past the devastation in Japan. Queensland was terrible, Christchurch horrendous. But this has taken natural disasters to a whole new level. Much has been said about it, and more is still to come with a death toll predicted to be as high as 10,000 people. I find that unfathomable.

But the fact that this massive quake has shifted some of Japan's coastline by 2.4m and has tilted the earth's axis by about 10cm. That is unbelievable. I think that for me, that really is telling about the power of this event.

What I am also distressed by is the raw unedited footage we are delivered almost instantly in this day and age. With mobile phones turning every man on the street into a quasi journalist, I feel like these images are beamed directly into our homes before any filters can be placed. I remember how horrified I was but the family on the roof of their car in the floods that were shown throughout the country (albeit their faces were obscured) before their safety could be determined. And in that case, the father perished. The fact that this family's loved ones weren't protected form those images, and that their dignity not preserved in such a time I found so distressing. It didn't add anything to the coverage to include them, as many people were filmed on cars, on house roofs etc. It even goes back as far as (warning - don't click if you don't want to see a picture of this) people jumping from the burning twin towers. Images I saw early on, that I can't erase from my mind. Thankfully at some stage the media got a grip of themselves and decided to no longer publish or broadcast such distressing images at that time. Yet they prevail, they are out there.

Watching any disaster footage long enough, especially in those rolling news coverage editions and you end up seeing the same images over and over. Aren't we saturated enough? Does humanity have a role to play when presenting news coverage? We want to know the details but then are horrified when we see deceased bodies, injured children, people whose safety is unaccounted for. There comes a time when I just have to switch off for fear I am invading people's privacy by continuing to watch. Do you ever feel like this in our instantly gratified news thirsty world?

If I had a dollar....

2011-03-13T09:47:00.000+11:00

Seriously.

A buck

for every time someone said

"are you hoping for a boy this time?"

or

"giving it one more go for a boy?"

or

when I respond with a practised, bland

"naaah, we don't care as long as it's healthy"

and my new disclaimer

"well with 3 girls from 3 (getting that little Kristen plug in there ever not so subtly) we are just assuming this one will be too"

and then it's reflected with

"and anything else would be a bonus" ...

Well if I did have a dollar for every time any combination of these were said

I would be ~~wealthy~~ very well off in car parking change for some time to come.

Because I don't know anybody in a situation like ours (more than one of the same sex) who truly has another in the primary singular hope for the other. Do they? Did you?

I can understand a desire for the opposite. To experience something as yet un-experienced.

But to have a child to fulfill that hope alone? (Okay, there are some awful awful stories out there, but I trust these are extremely rare exceptions)

Maybe if I had sons I might feel differently, yearning for a daughter, the same gender as me. But I know the DBH is not in this caper only for a son. Believe me, we've discussed it at length for all the reasons I mention.

I just don't get it. To suggest to an expectant woman that there might be some disappointment if we don't get what they think we want.

You know what I want?

I am sure you know.

I'll tell you what I don't want.

I don't want another baby to bury.

I don't want a baby who has to go to NICU.

I don't want a baby where the prognosis is grim.

I don't want a baby where the outcome is unknown.

I don't want to go through expensive invasive testing with agonising waiting periods and specialist appointments for an as yet to born child.

I don't want to hear the words 'not compatible with life outside the uterus.'

I want 2 arms, 2 legs, 20 digits, 4 chambers, 8 lobes/2 hemispheres, an intact spinal cord, 2 working (screaming) lungs, a couple of functioning kidneys, a long productive bowel and functional genitalia. In either variation. In one little package.

Because. Really. It's all I want. Anything else will indeed be a bonus.

~

I am sorry for the rant. I am antsy. We are having a scan this week. The scan, the one that undid us all with Kristen. The one that doesn't provoke in us any excitement and anticipation, but mostly dread, anxiety and worry. Even hers, in our ignorance caused me anxiety, I think part of me knew. At least the part of me that knew others with terrible outcomes at the 20 week scan.

I know people mean well. They think they are merely making conversation. It's harmless banter about what gender the child might be. And I know I'm sensitive at the moment. I just don't want to have to deal with other's pity, their potential sympathy for me if we 'don't get our boy'. Errggghh. Because we'll be rapt either way, please don't assume you know what we want.

And yes, we are finding out this time, whether it is pink or blue. Because it suits our family this time to know. And because, for the most part, that anticipation is proving to be a lovely distraction from the gnawing pit of ice that is growing in my heart until we get the okay. It's NOT because we want one of the other. [However I must admit it is partly because I have to attack that enormous pile of grown out of clothes in Little Miss' cupboard. And because we have run out of girls names, it'd be nice to have a heads up this time. And we have to decide what to do with bedrooms. And about a thousand other reasons I can't even be bothered typing.] So we'll know. Not to avoid disappointment. Or to psyche ourselves up or down or anything else. But we'll know, and it's all I can do to focus on that little positive for now.

So excuse me if I don't go in for the 4D with viewing room for family, photo packaged, gift bagged, baby shower, lights and camera option for an ultrasound. Something about these services grates me at the deepest level. That something that is meant to be so diagnostic, so vitally important for parents to be assured about the health of their unborn is turned into a money making sideshow that seems like it preys on parents, wanting nothing but the best for their child, even before they are born. When I used to think that meant eating right, looking after yourself and getting prenatal care. I mean no offense to anyone who has done this. I can see the attraction, even though it is not for me. I guess it's the minimisation of the importance of ultrasound and the commercialisation I object to. It's like anything wedding or baby related, you can jack up the price and people will still pay simply because it's wedding or baby related.

I almost didn't publish this post. I don't mean to offend. But it's been bugging me and I feel better for getting it out. Plus this being my blog and all......

Sensationalist headlines, errgh.

2011-03-04T20:49:00.004+11:00

God this shits me. Sorry.

Here is the headline, that I of course had to click on to, even knowing the likely truth behind the words....

Stillborn revived after three days on ice

followed by the tag line that read

Baby brought back from the "dead" after doctors froze her body, allowing brain damaged during birth to repair itself.

So in actual fact this baby was not dead. She was systemically cooled on purpose to protect her brain and cardiac function in an effort to let them recover. Induced hypothermia as a treatment in cases of near death and catastrophic oxygen depirvation events is not new. Indeed it probably all started accidentally. Think of the 'drowning in icewater' miracles/events we've probably all heard of when a child is pulled out of freezing water appearing dead but then hours later come to after the body warms a little. A similar thing is practiced in medicine and also sometimes during major surgery. I have seen it. I have administered it. Sometimes with and sometimes without success. Although it's use in infants is not well known to me, it's use in adults is widespread and can be extremely effective. But there are no guarantees.

Then the rest of the article explains...

The drama began when medical staff at the Peterborough District Hospital in east England realised that Rachel Claxton's placenta had ruptured during labour last year.

This had restricted baby Ella's oxygen and blood supply, with doctors working for 25 minutes to revive her before they detected a heartbeat, Metro newspaper reported.

With fears her brain would be damaged, Ella was taken to Addenbrooke's Hospital in Cambridge, where her body temperature was lowered to below the level at which hypothermia occurs.

Her father, Jason Anderson, 33, said: "I laid my hand on her head and she was ice-cold to the touch."
The pioneering procedure protects against brain damage by forcing the organ to repair itself, according to The Sun.

After three days, Ella's temperature was gradually returned to normal and the miracle tot was allowed home only eight days later.

Although she still needs physiotherapy her brain function is normal.

"She's (Ella) our little miracle and every day she gives us new hope," she said.

The amazing story has emerged now because Rachel Claxton, 32, is campaigning for the technology used on her daughter to be more widely available on the National Health Service.
[source]

It absolutely galls me that media use this kind of sensationalist headline to drag people in to describe something in an inaccurate way. This baby was never dead as such, but her brain, respiratory and cardiac (as well as other orgnans) metabolic rates slowed significantly. And to be fair, I don't doubt for a moment she'd have been very cold to touch. That would be unnerving, horrifying for anyone. With an unknown outcome.

But for God's sake, don't make it sound like this baby was deceased and alone in the morgue 'on ice' for three days and then given the kiss of life. It's just not fair.

I am so glad for this family there is a happy ending, I am not trying to overlook that.

I can't imagine what I'd have felt if I had either had (a) a full term stillborn baby and or (b) didn't automatically know what was the likely truth behind a headline like that.

Just headline it as factually as it is then reported underneath. For the sake of anyone who's lost a child. Scratch that, not just for that. For the sake of decency and accurate reporting without trying to sensationalise something that is astonishing and amazing and wonderful and also potentially heartbreaking enough.

Ugh.

The Bear Goes

2011-02-25T11:03:00.003+11:00

For want of better blog fodder this morning, I am taking you back in time. To when our second born, our Big Miss was but a wee thing. She received many presents, many, many, many soft toys. As evidenced below.

*Spot the kid*

But there was one particularly special one. (*cough*). You'll find him immortalised in the series of pictures below. Where words aren't really necessary but because I am a wordy cow I will spell it out anyway.

Remember this? Well the same man responsible there is to blame here. He thought it was hilarious. We thought he was joking right up until he had some ~~lackies~~ colleagues load it into the back seat of our car, where, wrapped in plastic, it bearly, (err, sorry!) fit sideways.

So we brought it home. Took photos for posterity.

...and then promptly looked for a new and loving home for him.

Where thankfully my fathers wife accepted it for the company she works for, they help disabled children and their families, and they raffled it. Some other poor family of an ecstatic winning girl are now the proud owners.

I included a picture of a very long haired us for size references only, because this truly was one mother of a bear. Oh, and thank God for luggage straps and one helpful dad with a very small hatchback.

[No children were harmed in the making of this blog post, despite the precarious balancing that seemed to be involved. Ahem.]

Consider the blog flogged for today!

swoon

2011-02-24T13:46:00.003+11:00

[image source]

Big Miss: where are you going mum?

Me: to see a man sing on stage

Big Miss: why?

Me: pause, thinking how better to explain this to Miss 5?

DBH interrupting: because Daddy can't sing

Me: well that's just the start of it.....

And later, after I left;

Big Miss to DBH: you'd better learn to sing dad, so mum can stay home!

Guess where I was last night? Yep, seeing the Bube. And he was brilliant. I am not even really that into the older songs he sings, except to say they are the music I grew up with, and so that is the reason I enjoy them. It's nice to see classic music redone. Plus this man is FUNNY. My God, he could do his own stand up show, I swear. Every little conversation with the audience had caused fits of laughter, which really sealed the deal for me. An all round entertainer. Plus kinda nice to look at. He does a mean Aussie accent. And you just had to be there to see him impersonate his childhood idol to the orchestrated sounds of 'Billie Jean'. Hilarious.

He is a fantastic singer and, as with the last time I saw him in concert, he sang part of his last song unaccompanied. By anything. Including a microphone. This man belted out half a song in the Rod Laver Tennis Centre to a 10,000 strong audience with no amplification. It was clear and loud and freaking amazing, such power in a pair of lungs and vocal cords. With such a presence to keep everyone quiet and spellbound, I got all teary up over it (blame the hormones).

Speaking of hormones, apparently that is the last Buble concert I am allowed to go to, according to the DBH, as I have been obviously and rotundly pregnant for both the ones I have attended, and we have sworn this child shall be our last. So alas Mike (that's what he lets me call him in private), it's been fun, but the hubs hath spoken.....

well, we can just hope that DBH forgets this little Buble - pregnancy revelation next time he comes to town!

Driving me crazy

2011-02-21T13:09:00.000+11:00

He is. The 'oosband. I love him dearly, but he is doing that thing that drives me bonkers.

You know the one where I suggest something (at the moment it has to do with a property we are renovating, no, not the one we live in) like, I dunno, polishing the unsealed slate floor, adding a dummy knob to the front door, replacing the (cracked due to slamming of door due to lack of knob) yellow bottle glass on same door, repainting this and that. Plus others. Ideas where I am politely but firmly shot down. Because it is 'Not necessary now, Can be done later, Spent enough cash on this house we don't live in at the moment' type of reasons.

Fair enough.

Until he has this great idea, some weeks later to, ummm, I dunno, lacquer the floor, get a dummy knob for the front door, and replace the yellow bottle glass on that same door.

What. A. Great. Idea. Honey.

Aaaarrgghhh!

Reminds me of a Simpsons episode, I am sure.

Now just waiting for ~~mine mine all mine~~ his other ideas to pop up and be put into action!

At the very least, I did get my own way, that has to be worth something!

Little helper

2011-02-11T10:08:00.000+11:00

Now that my Big Miss is at school longer, I have found the one on one time with my Little Miss to be quite different. I talk to her more. I know that sounds terrible, but Big Miss being, well, big, and used to being the centre of the known universe tends to dominate most things. I talk to them both, ask questions, but she hogs the conversations, jumps in with answers and generally rules the chatter.

So whilst I miss her, Little Miss and I are getting some lovely time together, one on one (well right now she is getting some lovely playschool time, but I digress). I am doing things with her I used to do with Big Miss, but don't do now so much as they tended to entertain each other.

It's fun and sweet and I am going to cherish this time of just us.

As it won't last long.

As we are expecting another little person mid year. Then she, poor middle child, will have to share me again.

So for now we are going to peg washing and sort laundry and do baking and play games and collect leaves and blow bubbles like we should. Like we normally do, but without the company, and let's face it, bossy undertones of one who is older.

I knew there'd be a bonus to being one child down, and not just halving the constant requests for food! The extraordinary things Little Miss says and our detailed conversations is just one of them. Her keenness (is too a word) to help, to try new things and to participate is wonderful, and I get to be the recipient of it all.

Donation Dollies

2011-02-08T10:29:00.000+11:00

Remember this?

Well here is my contribution!

Now just to convince my littlies they are not for them!

I loved doing this, I tinkered with the pattern a little as I love to do and added some piggy tails for the girls, even getting a bit fancy with my pinking shears... used up lots of scrap fabric, and voila!

Hoping that they bring some sunshine to some children who have lost so much.

xxx

[and of course I posted over there about them too, sorry about that for those few who follow both!]

MacGyver'ed

2011-02-05T11:27:00.000+11:00

I am so proud, I recently MacGyver'ed something! As a nurse, we find ourselves being innovative and resourceful all the time. Finding bits to fit equipment, connections for tubing and drains, tailoring dressings for specific needs, and certainly resource allocation (and lack thereof) finds us frequently referring to our long haired friend for inspiration. And no, I couldn't sleek it, for those of you in the know, as normally for nurses, sleek is a solution for almost everything.

I recently complained to the DBH that our Little Squirt had been used so much over the past 5 years, like at least twice daily, that it had worn through. [For the uninitiated, it is a hose that attaches to the toilet to, well, squirt poo off nappies. It is a life saver of the modern cloth household and CANNOT be done without. At least not in our house where such things resemble the consistency of toothpaste, always, and is rarely in a ploppable form. Eww. Sorry. Too far? I'll try not to do that again. As you were.]

You see, there is a plastic lever that rests against a twisting nut. You twist the nut sideways and the lever slips over it rendering it useless and ineffective in curious toddler hands (ingenious). Turn the nut sideways and it acts as a constant against the lever, pressure is applied to the right mechanism and in a second you are flushing unmentionable, well, crap, down the toilet. Ours had been so overused that the plastic lever had worn through the nut. It no longer had any grip, the plastic had given way to years of torture. It had been threatening to for a while, slipping and getting stuck. Right in the middle of the stinkiest, messiest, stickiest kiwi fruit affected nappy of the, well, sadly, day.

So when I complained, after the fact, the DBHubby said he was sure he could do something. No need! I cried! I was on to it, I had MacGyver'ed a solution!

Impressed?

I was!!

PS We are going through large paperclips though as a week on they eventually bend to the pressure too. Must get more!

There were tears....

2011-02-04T11:31:00.001+11:00

but not from the Big Miss!

you're just not a preppie if you don't wear an oversized (but smallest one they had) dress and far too big schoolbag!

I was fine until I turned to go and walk out of the classroom. I became overwhelmed. Not that I'm sad about her going, she is well ready, it's the milestone, the next big step of independence. God, it was but a minute ago I brought her home from the hospital, I am sure. My baby. My big girl. That, and I'm hormonal!

Thank goodness for eBay...

2011-02-03T19:48:00.000+11:00

I thought when I heaved the 7.7kg, 65 x 40 x 30cm taped-to-within-an-inch-of-it's-existence box to the post office this morning. And thank goodness for Australia Post, actually allowing me to post such cumbersome items. They do, but this was at about their limit.

What, you ask? Why this delightful but ever so impractical 'gift' my DBH was given as a parting gesture when he left his previous Accounting Firm after 8 years or so of dedicated service.

A silver coffee and tea service.

Yes, silver. That precious metal that tarnishes as soon as you look at it and requires hours of work to keep looking nice. Two pots, a sugar bowl with lid and creamer. On an intricately engraved tray. Thankfully, not personalised. See all the fancy schmancy bits on the handles etc? Impossible to keep the yellow and grey shades away from those bits. Five years ago he left with this enormous box 'under his arm' as it were. For five years it has taken up residence in our cupboards, unused, unloved, unappreciated. You see, we have an ordinary home. Not particularly modern, but certainly not antique enough to accommodate an item like this. And the DBH's new office? (He was leaving to start his own business, this gift was intended as part of the decor there). Not suited to this at all. I mean, really, who uses this sort of thing nowadays anyway? Apart from the Queen, I mean, obviously.

Clearly, the boss who organised this is an eccentric man, we knew this. He gave us an aluminium fish platter as an engagement gift. You know the kind you serve a whole fish on? Yes it is that big and awkward to store also. Together with fish serving spoons, that look like, well, fish. And I have never cooked a whole fish a day in my life. He was also the one responsible for another clanger of a gift that I was sure I had posted about years ago, but now can't find. [Will do another day, it's worth it!] But what on earth is wrong with a wallet, a watch, or even some sports memorabilia to go up in the new office for my sports nut husband? But noooo, a silver tea set will be much more handy! Over this time it had been shifted form cupboard to cupboard, house to garage and back again as we reshuffled our house. I'd forget about it for a while until I needed more space, and every time I rediscovered it I cursed the thoughtlessness of that weird boss. If you know him at all, if you met my husband and had more than one minute's conversation with him, you'll know my DBH is SO NOT a silver pretty things man. He doesn't even drink tea or coffee! Gah, how can some people get some gifts so wrong, and with no consultation from his colleagues, yet this man was given the free reign to shop!

I tried valiantly to offload it, nobody wanted it. Couldn't return it. Antique/bric a brac stores who take antiquey looking things weren't buying. And, unlikely to buy if they think they can't shift it, the sales assistant told me with raised eyebrows at the picture I showed her. I assumed if they couldn't hope to shift it what chance did I have? Silver dealers didn't want it as it is not pure silver but the electroplated (or whatever that is) version. Of course. Still bloody tarnishes like silver though, donnit? I tried free online sales forums. Trading Post. eBay. I was at the point of giving it to the Salvos to be rid of the bloody thing but was holding out one last ditch hope. After all this time, I wanted some bloody cash for it, even if we don't use it to buy something appropriate for the office! So finally I decided to re list it on eBay one last time, only make it cheaper this time and add postage rather than pick up which was the only option I offered last time. Some interstate sucker might pay to have it shipped to them.

So finally last week I did and bingo! Lots of questions and interest and in the end only one bidder, but that's all it takes! You know what they say, someone's trash is someone else's treasure, and with eBay doubly so.

So thank you eBay, my cupboards and sanity thank you.You can have your ridiculously priced listing and selling fees with pleasure, as at least this time, you've definitely earned it!

A new morning

2011-02-03T14:43:00.002+11:00

(well it was morning when I started typing this...)

Thankfully the news reports aren't as bad as anticipated this morning. Not nearly as much structural damage in Cairns as predicted. But still , many homes damaged and lost. It just so far seems to be not as devastating as it could have been. Thank God. I know I for one, did not sleep well, worrying about our northern neighbours. I know it's not over, and the full extent of the damage is not yet known. But thankfully, so far there a re no reports of injury or death. But there has been one birth. I love that life just goes on, and thankfully this one had a happy ending. Our country and Mother nature has certainly given us a run for our money this year, hopefully there isn't too much left in store for us.

By the way, have you wondered what the difference is between a cyclone and a hurricane? Or indeed a typhoon? I have recently, with the comparisons to Hurricane Katrina in the U.S. I found a good little article that explains it. Mostly, it seems, it's about location.

Edited to add, my favourite comic picture thus far....

[source and more images here]

What goes around...

2011-01-30T10:37:00.000+11:00

... hopefully comes around. Today, it did. In a good way.

I did an E.Normous grocery shop first thing this morning. Well overdue. You know when you (I) do lots of little catch up shops for weeks and finally that list on the fridge is screaming "no more! Just go and bloody shop already!" Well it was one of those.

So before 8am I was there, it was quiet and I loaded that trolley like there was no tomorrow.

Lining up at the registers, only two open. The first I skipped as there was already 2 large trolleys, one being served, one waiting. I went to the other which had more people with less stuff. Basket carriers if you will.

Before long I was unloading and I beckoned a basket carrying lady from the other line (behind the two slightly less enormous trolleys than mine) to go ahead of me. After all, she would be long gone before I even finished unloading. I do like to do that, as it makes such a difference to my day if someone does it to me. I expect nothing in return if course, except a pleasant 'thankyou'.

A minute or two later a young man was behind me, carrying one bottle of milk. "You should really go ahead of me" I told him, as in no way could I in good conscience continue on with him standing there that whole time, poor thing, and the first recipient of my line karma was still paying, my stuff not being started through the scanner yet.

"Thanks" he said, face breaking into a large smile, "you didn't have to do that!" I assured him it was not a problem and continued unloading.

So as a parting gesture, he said something to the register lady and then said to me... "not many people bother with that, and I work here. So I put through my staff card so you'll get a discount. It's not much, but it's the least I could do".

I was gobsmacked. I told him thanks and that I really appreciated it. Especially on my mega shop, it made quite a difference. The register lady also assured me it is a rare event, which made me a bit sad. After all, it is a small think that makes the day of someone else go a bit quicker, and there isn't much I like less than standing in queues.

So today, apart from the warm fuzzies, I was rewarded with a lower than usual grocery bill on one of my longer receipts! You just never know how your actions will be received, and in some cases, rewarded.

Refreshing

2011-01-19T15:06:00.000+11:00

Have you ever seen such a beautiful, motherly picture? God, if this woman can't promote breastfeeding as beautiful, who can? A natural drug free birth, a normal name and a happy breast fed child. Kudos to her. Oh, and I almost forgot the staggeringly gorgeous husband and wildy successful career, but you know, details shmetails.

But this pic, it's divine. I think it's fab that she has chosen to share it.

[image and story source]

Although Holly Homemaker said it all far better than me!

Rejuvenated

2011-01-16T10:08:00.000+11:00

A week or two ago (the last time Victoria had nice weather, that is) we got to the beach. I love it, and the girls are heading in the same direction. Little Miss is still adjusting to the sand between the toes, as you will see. A lovely river at the mouth of the ocean beach, nice and flat for young'uns. It was enough to spur me on for a few weeks. A true water sign, I am rejuvenated spiritually by a day like this. Especially when I am allowed an hour to wander on my own, as I was able to do this day, walking along the waters edge. Heaven!

Something practical

2011-01-14T14:41:00.000+11:00

For the flood victims of QLD.....

We can always donate cash, (and have) but I always find it so much more satisfying to be able to do something more practical and maybe personal. So it was with pleasure I shopped this morning for strangers. Undies, deodorants, toothbrushes, toothpaste, baby t-shirt suits, socks and soap. All stuffed ever so carefully into a large satchel and on it's way now. I know if I had not much else, the prospect of a new toothbrush, dome deodorant and clean undies would please me no end.

Please consider helping if you can, please take a look at this or see below.

To quote Clarinda at Greenie in the Making...

Donate underwear & toothbrushes to help those who have lost their homes in the QLD floods.

Due to many families being devastated by the floods in QLD, getting basic items such as underwear and personal hygiene items will be difficult. Roads are still cut and shops are closed.

By donating men’s, women’s and children’s underwear, singlets, toothbrushes and other small personal hygiene items we can help the flood victims immediately.

You can post any donated items to:

Flood Drive

PO Box 469

SINGLETON NSW 2330

By Feb 10th

You can watch the progress of this drive right here

For any queries contact Clarinda at

Gigglensqueak@gmail.com

**items must be new**

Please share this on your blog, twitter and facebook. Lets do something proactive.

I know there has been discussion about sending up second hands items and how evacuation centres are no longer accepting donations. I am pleased to say I am now working with Shona from Funky Fabrix, she is personally volunteering her time at evacuations centres. Shona is helping with places/addresses which are taking donated items. So rest assured your items are going to where they are both needed and wanted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here is another great idea if you are a bit crafty. Via eva mei and me I found monkeemoomoo. She is organising a Dolly Drive for the children victimes of the floods. Make a doll or softie and donate it, simple! Her inspiration (and some pattern help if you need it) can be found here at Dolly Donations.

I think I will have to give this one a go too, although it won't be achieved in one morning like the other one!

Candlelight

2011-01-11T09:32:00.000+11:00

Hearts are heavy today.

For Lori's Tony.

For 8 dead and another 72 missing in Queensland's flood ravaged areas.

(you can donate funds to help here)

For a mother and 3 children dead in a Melbourne house fire.

And for all those missing loved ones today.

May the sun shine for those affected again soon.

xxx

Support

2011-01-08T09:39:00.000+11:00

I never fail to be amazed at the strength, kindness and generosity of spirit in people, and I am genuinely heartened to see our little (big) blog community come together and support one of it's own.

A tragedy has struck a fellow blogger, and we seem to be breathlessly awaiting an update, and I am hoping against hope that the prognosis will improve from grim for Lori's husband Tony. If you can help with a donation financially, see Kristin's blog here. But mostly, hold this family in your heart, pray for them, send positive vibes. They need all the help they can get.

I can't say any more than has already been said. In truth, it scares the daylights out of me how these things can 'just happen'. Yet I know they do, every single day.

Hug your partner/parent/children today.

I know I will.

And pray.

Insomnia

2011-01-03T04:29:00.001+11:00

I can't sleep. I haven't been sleeping well lately, for a multitude of reasons. Tonight I just can't. There is nothing more frustrating than wanting, needing to sleep and not being able to. Especially for a parent whose toddler frequently wakes through the night, and recently has not been doing so.

That said, lying there, not sleeping, I heard a bang and a wail, then quiet, but I still rose to check on said toddler who had thrashed and bumped her head but gone back to sleep. I recovered her blankets and returned to bed. The DBH having been disturbed, rolls over, muttered something, so I told him what happened with Little Miss, and that I can't sleep. Why not? he asks, to which I have no answer. We lay there quietly until he says...

What is that ticking noise?

So I listen.

That would be the clock on the far wall in the large room outside our bedroom.

That has been there for, I dunno, about FOUR years.

Tick. Tick Tick.

Oh, he says.

~one minute later~ the deep breathing that accompanies sleep again. For him.

Me:

tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick

tick tick BLOODY TICK!

Thanks a lot darl. I have never ever noticed that clock before, and tonight, right now after my insomnia confession, you point it out. Aaah marriage.

So I lay there, and after a while I realise my eyes are squeezed shut and they don't even want to be closed. Ever done that? Come to a point where you are forcing your body to act like it is sleeping but your mind is racing, you toss and turn and change position and your eyes aren't even drowsy? Don't even drift closed?

I gave in. Got up, blogged.

It's amazing how much sleep rules our lives. How much interrupted, shortened or broken sleep affects our daily life. Ask any new parent!

It's fascinating, sleep. We did a whole component on it at Uni, both in my undergrad studies and post grad, as it is an oft overlooked and undervalued part of hospital care. We keep patients up late for the night shift to observe, wake them early for the morning shift. We leave lights on, poke and prod at all hours to do obs, give meds, attend care. Much of it necessary, but still the environment is not conducive to sleep. I have night shift colleagues who have done night shift for so long it is their daytime and are by no means quiet.

I remember vividly lying in a hospital bed one night in pain, broken hearted and feeling alone. (DBH was with me, but there was no room for snuggling in my single hospital birthing suite bed, he was trying to snatch his own sleep on the teensy couch). Trying to valiantly give birth to our first (not to live) child. Heart broken. The nurses and midwives, right outside my door, light streaming in around the edges, loudly (or so it seemed, as I could make out every word) discussing their day, their shift, their lives. As they are entitled to do. But not within my earshot thanks, did they have no idea about the pain behind that door, which they mistakenly assumed shut me off from them? I learnt another valuable nursing lesson that ~~day~~ night, let me assure you. Being on the other side of the door has done that a number of times for me in lots of different respects.

Then during the daytime we wonder why patients are cranky, teary, upset, unhappy. Not healing well or continue to remain terribly sick. Muck with that circadian rhythm, induce 'sleep' with drugs, disallow or interrupt good REM cycles and watch the rest fall apart.

So, for now I blog, and shortly, I will read. Not blogs, I do that enough. A book! Not something I get to do for as long as I'd like these days, so I'll savour it. I do read before sleep, sacrifice sleep for it sometimes, so maybe it will work now. And when I do finally go back to bed in the wee hours, as if it isn't that already now, maybe he'll let me sleep in in the morning!

2010 wrapped-up

2010-12-31T09:55:00.000+11:00

I didn't really get time to do a Christmas post, so I thought I'd do an all in one to see out 2010.

We really had a wonderful year, seeing Big Miss blossom in confidence and skills at kinder, Little Miss start to walk and gain all her language and subsequent personality emerge which has been stacks of fun to watch. There is so much development in that time between first and second birthdays, I know they say the first year is the biggest, but to go from baby to almost independent person is amazing and a privilege to witness.

Anyway, my teaching role at work has taught me plenty, and am stepping up from one to two post grad students next year, and am looking forward to the challenge. I have also been asked to apply for another promotion which is encouraging and ego-boosting so I will consider that in the New year also.

The DBH's business has gone from strength to strength and he has moved premises to a larger office and employed a couple of extra people so all is going well there.

Christmas was lovely, well the morning was and I worked in the afternoon. Where work once again humbled me and reminded me that life goes on around regardless of special occasions, death occurs on Christmas day and sickness brings out the best and worst in people. I didn't get to drink many cups of tea or eat mince pies and chat with my colleagues as I'd envisioned, but the work was busy and productive and reminded me why I became a nurse. Perhaps that was the message for me that was the real lesson of the day.

We caught up with family in the days around the 25th and the girls enjoyed the lead up on a magical Christmas eve, as well as the wonderment and joy of discovering their filled stockings in the morning.

I received some lovely things as well, most notably this, which was unexpected and so overwhelmed me I did sob. I have one for all three of my girls now which is so special.

2011 will bring new challenges with Big Miss off to school, and Little Miss figuring out the world on her own for a bit. We are hoping it will bring big changes to our family and our home, with some big cosmetic plans for the house underway too.

Hoping your New Year is all you wish it to be and that 2011 brings you all good health, happiness and contentment.

Til next year! xo

A sign that the Disney Princesses have too much of an influence in your daughters life!

2010-12-28T11:26:00.000+11:00

I was recently bitten by a bullant on the top surface of my foot (and let me say, yeee-oouch!). Now, still a couple of weeks later the almost healed wound still drives me spare with it's itching.

Big Miss asked me about it....

BM: why did that ant bite you mum?

Me: not sure honey, he was probably feeling scared

BM: Maybe he was a Knight and he was trying to save his princess girlfriend....

Me: from my big scary foot you mean?

BM: yes, he had to rescue her from the monster and marry her forever.

Uh huh.

can't find a credit for this one, but they're a genius!

Those Disney tales have much to answer for!

Really? Already?

2010-12-22T17:00:00.001+11:00

I just pulled a catalogue out of my letterbox.

It was one of those Spot.light ones, actually addressed to me, so usually it is a welcome piece of junk mail.

All very well, that is, other than it's ad on the outside telling me what to expect inside.

"Back to School" !!!

'Everything you need.'

What, like another month to recover from Christmas first?

WTF?

Didn't we just finish school, like, umm, I dunno, LAST WEEK?

Seriously, it's not even Christmas yet.

I have accepted Christmas decorations in October.

Groaned at hot cross buns in February.

Heard of Easter Eggs (not yet witnessed personally) in the New Year.

Sulked about Mothers Day gift spruiking before Easter.

Ignored inappropriately timed Halloween advertising entirely.

But c'mon already!

Can't we even pretend one school year is behind us, and actually physically chuck out last year's Zoo calendar before launching into a stationery orgy?

Can't we at least let the commercial machine suck the big red dude dry first?

Where's their respect for the natural order of things?

Advertisers and marketers take note! We are over it, and will not be sucked in!

Even if I am a stationery whore and will have immense trouble resisting those cute little (*insert random stationery gizmo here*) WHATEVER, dammit! I will not give in!

Who's with me?!
Boycott badly timed premature sales now!

TWO

2010-12-19T11:18:00.000+11:00

My Little Miss is getting not so little and can now officially call herself two years old. Sigh. She had a gorgeous day, as did we all. Blew those candles out in one swoop, my little champion bubble blower had lots of practice! And repeated it twice for the doubters who thought it was a fluke!

Phew. Whatever possessed me to have a kid in December is beyond me (like I had a choice!) Now, on to Christmas!

Special thanks (again) to my dear friend beccyb for the idea to turn the ladybug cake into an ice cream variety. Definitely the easiest kids cake I have ever done, woohoo!

Oh, and how gorgeous is that dress?! There are big parts of me that are so glad I get to dress my little girlie girls up like that! Plus I'm thankful that they'll let me.....

And just like that....

2010-12-13T14:42:00.000+11:00

My Big Miss is no longer a kinder kid. Not yet a school kid either, in between for now.

My angel was an angel in the nativity play for kinder this morning. Dontcha just love a Nativity play? It doesn't matter how many kids there are, you can never have too many shepherds or angels, aaah, a role for everyone.

The did a brilliant job. Then there were songs, morning tea, and gifts for everyone. A truckload of Christmas handmade decorations to bring home. A trillion chocolate frogs and candy canes on kindy christmas cards. A graduation certificate and book. Bliss.

And I barely even cried, surprising for me seeing as I teared up the other night when she tried the school dress on. In fact I held it together remarkably well. But my goodness I can't believe this phase for her is gone....

This morning, all dressed up for the party in her Christmas skirt. Couldn't convince Little Miss to join in the festivities and dress up in hers, never mind, her little yellow dress was just as cute.

Then we were off for Santa photos. Not nearly as brill as last year's as this year I had to be in it! Something I swore I'd never do, aargh! I did have on decent clothes, Christmas earrings and some makeup, but still, I don't wanna be in it! Not sure if I'll share or not yet...! Little Miss baulked at the last second despite her eager intent and insistence we visit Santa every time we are at the shops.

Oh, all right, here goes. Checkout the unimpressed look on Little Miss, at least she hadn't dropped the lip, which was one of the photo options they took! Hmm, wonder if i can photoshop me out?!

Side note, I really love this Santa. We have had him several times over the past few years and he is so lovely. Every time we visit he makes small efforts at engaging the Little Miss and speaks so kindly to Big Miss and has never put a foot wrong with anything he says. It truly is a gift to do that job well. Plus I think he sounds and looks as authentic as you could want Santa to. Oh dear, I think I heart the jolly red man!

PS We always called him Father Christmas when I was growing up, did you? Was that my generation or just my family? It's a name that is all but gone and never used now I think, Santa seems to be the way it is.

~*~

Christmas card protocol for pre-schoolers

2010-12-09T14:07:00.000+11:00

Last year, if you care to recall, I wagged it. Big Miss didn't care then, didn't even think twice about all the receiving and no giving. Christmas cards, that is, to 24 or so classmates. So ashamed of last year's terrible effort, I asked Big Miss if she wanted to participate this year. No, she didn't. But her thrill at receiving mail of her own via the kinder pigeon hole made me persist. If you like to receive them, then so would other people. It's the nice, courteous thing to do. Do unto others.... yadi yada yada. Share the love. Etc. You know how it goes.

So after a couple of refusals, she decided that yes, she would do some. So I set her up with textas with the instruction to write her name, then she could tell me who they were for and I'd address them. I left her at it for 10 mins and came back expecting to envelope up 3 or 4 cards.

One card was underway. Dolphins Leaping out of the Ocean. Followed by a Sunflower Still Life and then the classic Rainbow Raining on Sunflower.

OMFG. I have created a perfectionist arty -wanna-make'em-all-beautiful monster.

I patiently explained that 20 more cards like this would take FOR.EV.ER.

So we diverted down to The Sticker Decorated Christmas tree you see on the left there.

And finally deteriorated to just stickers. Thank heavens. I was beginning to come out in a rash.

Took all bloody weekend. And we did candy canes. Yes, completely capitulated.

Then I spent 10 minutes 'posting' them to the kids-can't reach-coz-it's too-high pigeon holes with a squawking toddler (wanting the chocolate frogs other beleaguered parents have left there for everyone) on my hip. Yay me, spread that festive cheer.

Now the whole class (24 plus My Miss) is happy, I hope. Nobody was left out, I still have too much guilt over the birthday party invites to do anything but.

On the other hand, it looks like no one on my Christmas Card list of 50 or so will be receiving this year!! I'm too exhausted after that effort!

I may pare it down, so if you know me IRL and you get one, feel privileged! On the other hand, if you know me and read this you'll probably get one. Maybe by New Year, guilt is too strong a force in my life to stop me completely!!!

In A Beautiful Pea Green Boat

One Pic Wonder - Bloom

The Wiggles lost a fan today...

Car park rudeness abounds

One Pic Wonder - Festive (?)

Irony

So that was Christmas.... and Happy New Year!

One Pic Wonder - Crankypants

We just managed it...

Thanks

The obligatory...

One Pic Wonder - Love

Miss 3

Meaningful giving

Do you KK?

Subliminal

Reject by name....

Excellent reasons ...

Sweet Six

Buzz kill, well relocation anyway

A Reflection of Seven

Do you know your body shape?

True heros

Tuesday Tidbits

The breast kind of cause

Friday Freak Out

No pressure - hah!

Best friends

The world gone mad

Random thoughts

Little Boy Blue

In honour of another upcoming birth

Are you a Pott-Head?

3 little words

What is with the "We must catch up before..."?

All babies get hungry...

And the winner is ...

"A bit like cheating"

Wanna make a buck? Slash win a GIVEAWAY??

Breaking the cycle

Doggy dementia

History and baby loss

Goodbye and hello

A nursery rhyme gone a little bit bad

Who needs a baby-jail?

Dobbing, a social conundrum

Much closer than you think my dear

Public Property

Little orange balls of bittersweet love.

A day to remember

Right before Easter

Well they are borrowing our day...

I hate play centres.

Dreams

Have we taken 'minding your own business' too far as a community?

Fancy a swim?

Tools of the trade

Just another reason

Gift bags...

Slugs and snails...

Literally an earth moving event

If I had a dollar....

Sensationalist headlines, errgh.

The Bear Goes

*swoon*

Driving me crazy

Little helper

Donation Dollies

MacGyver'ed

There were tears....

Thank goodness for eBay...

A new morning

What goes around...

Refreshing

Rejuvenated

Something practical

Candlelight

Support

Insomnia

2010 wrapped-up

swoon