Forgive my atrocious laziness...

... but I stole this one from Melissa who also stole it. ;) Word has it that you bold everything you have done.


1. Started your own blog.
2. Slept under the stars.
3. Played in a band.
4. Visited The Great Barrier Reef.
5. Stood under the stars in the outback, the real outback – think Uluru.
6. Given more than you can afford to charity.
7. Been to the Gold Coast’s theme parks – anyone, you take your pick.
8. Climbed a mountain.
9. Held a praying mantis.
10. Sung a solo. Ahh, I belt a heady solo at karaoke bars...
11. Bungee jumped, jumped out of plane, been paragliding or hang-gliding, hot air ballooning – you get the idea, you’ve been hundreds of metres about earth in a seemingly flimsy contraption.
12. Visited Melbourne.
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea.
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch.
15. Had a child. Raised a child. Worked with children.
16. Had food poisoning.
17. Been to the Snowy Mountains.
18. Grown your own vegetables.
19. Visited the Brett Whitely studio in Surry Hills, Sydney.
20. Slept on an overnight train or bus. Well, tossed and turned (and whined) anyway.
21. Had a pillow fight. And always in my lingerie!!! :P
22. Been backpacking.
23. Taken a mental health day.
24. Been buried in sand with just your head and toes sticking out. Toes buried too, though.
25. Held a possum, kangaroo or koala – or any other native Australian animal.
26. Gone skinny dipping.
27. Been in a fun run. Hell no. Fun run is an oxymoron in my world.
28. Been on the Blue Mountain cableway.
29. Seen a total eclipse.
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset.
31. Played, or watched, summer cricket.
32. Sailed, kayaked or canoed our beautiful waterways.
33. Seen the Daintree.
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors.
35. Visited an Aboriginal settlement or mission.
36. Learned a new language.
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied.
38. Toured the Sydney Opera House.
39. Tried rock climbing (indoor or outdoor), abseiling or just simple bush walking.
40. Visit Queensland’s Gallery of Modern Art.
41. Been to the Tamworth Country Music Festival.
42. Sunbaked at Bondi.
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant.
44. Visited Broome.
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight.
46. Been transported in an ambulance.
47. Had your portrait painted.
48. Gone fishing.
49. Seen Tasmania’s old growth forests.
50. Been to the top of Q1, on the Gold Coast.
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkelling.
52. Kissed in the rain.
53. Played in the mud.
54. Gone to a drive-in theatre.
55. Been in a movie.
56. Driven the Great Ocean Road.
57. Started a business.
58. Taken a martial arts class.
59. Visited Norfolk Island.
60. Served at a soup kitchen.
61. Sold Girl Guide biscuits.
62. Gone whale watching.
63. Got flowers for no reason. Technically "no reason" but surely being me is reason enough? :P
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma.
65. Gone jet boating.
66. Visited Port Arthur.
67. Bounced a cheque.
68. Flown in a helicopter.
69. Saved a favourite childhood toy.
70. Visited the Australian War Memorial.
71. Eaten Caviar.
72. Pieced a quilt.
73. Stood in Federation Square.
74. Been on the Murray River.
75. Been fired from a job. Hey, it was one of those mutual decision things. He pissed me off, I bopped him. We agreed it was best if I left. Whaddayagunnado???
76. Travelled, or climbed, over the Sydney Harbour Bridge.
77. Broken a bone.
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle.
79. Seen the Three Sisters at Echo Point, Katoomba.
80. Published a book.
81. Visited St Mary’s Cathedral, in Sydney.
82. Bought a brand new car.
83. Been to Hermannsburg.
84. Had your picture in the newspaper.
85. Read the entire Bible.
86. Visited Parliament House.
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating.
88. Had chickenpox.
89. Saved someone’s life. Does calling the emergency services count or is it a "bare hands" thing?
90. Sat on a jury.
91. Met someone famous.
92. Joined a book club.
93. Lost a loved one.
94. Saved a pet.
95. Been to the site of the Eureka Stockade.
96. Swum in The Whitsundays.
97. Been involved in a lawsuit.
98. Owned a mobile phone.
99. Been stung by a bee.
100. Read an entire book in one day.

Hey Gateway Guy

I'm sitting here now wondering if I did the right thing. How could I ever know? As we headed north across the Gateway Bridge tonight, I looked ahead to see your car, pulled into and stopped in the left hand lane and you, standing upright, alongside the bridge railings. They're high railings and initially you were nowhere near danger. I thought to myself "Fucking schoolies" as we neared your position but in that split second you had managed to pull yourself much higher, so that you were bunched in a heap, right at the top of the bars.

I rubbernecked my way by you and it hit me very suddenly that you were there to do a job. We were almost at the airport by the time the police had taken my details and those I had on you. Strange that I could remember so well what you were wearing, what you'd driven there and even how old you looked. I was able to pinpoint for them which part of the bridge you were on.

Dad and I continued on to the airport to collect Mum, discussing all the while what your situation may have been. As far as we knew, there was still a chance you were clowning about with a car full of friends watching on.

We'd not even fully left the airport grounds when we looked up at the bridge to see it lit up like a Christmas tree; flashing blue and red lights all along the crest. Oh, the nervous feeling in my stomach was overwhelming. I figured we could basically count on you being dead if your car was still there.

We slowed with the rest of the cars nearing the scene and I was amazed (and really glad) at how quickly they'd put together two ambulances, a fire engine, at least five police cars along with some unmarked vehicles too. There, amongst the gathering officers, crouched and gripping the bars from the other side, I saw you. What I felt was near elation; I felt as if I'd saved you with my own hands (which is absolutely ridiculous since you'd yet to be "saved" at that point anyway). How wonderful that they'd reached you in time! But then...

Who was I to put a stop to that? How was it ok for me to step in and change your plan when you were evidently serious enough to have gotten that far in the first place? I know your loved ones would be so relieved, so grateful, but it's not about them, right? I'm so torn. On the one hand I tell myself that tomorrow could be a whole other day for you and you might think "Thank fuck for that chick driving by" but what if it isn't? What if tomorrow is just another day in hell for you; another day of darkness and heartache and sheer distress? Maybe this wasn't even the first time you'd reached such a point and in my interference, I've merely prolonged your misery. I'll never know, either, and already it plagues me. I don't even know if they managed to talk you around or if you did eventually let go. Maybe you're still hanging there, undecided.

I'm so sorry. I hope like hell that you're in somebody's arms right now, being told how beautiful you are and how it is going to be ok. I hope you don't hate me forever and wish I'd merely driven by and left you to it. Forgive me, please; I just couldn't.

No, I really mean it;

Am I the only one who thinks Carl Williams looks remarkably like Ralph Wiggum from The Simpsons?

Just try and deny it.

One down...

So, as most of us do, I have a list of things I absolutely should and need to do. They're those things that you're possibly not fond of, don't have time for, or just plain slip your mind.

On my list for some time has been a full skin check for melanoma/cancer. Wife of one, mother of two, casual working woman = not a lot of spare time; you know the drill... But... My beautiful friend Ellie recently had a bit of a run in with the scalpel and very kindly reminded me of just how important these things are.

Fast forward to today, Fathership and I are booked together because I have issues with being locked in a strange room, alone with a strange man. It's just one of my creep out triggers. I decide to go first because I am very brave and so skulk in wearing my little undies and a bra covered with a wraparound towel. Well, a fat lot of good the towel did me; it was ripped off almost immediately. And as if I didn't feel vulnerable enough, the bloke eyeballing me through a massive magnifying glass with fluorescent light attached didn't do much to lower my blood pressure either.

Oh, did I mention that he started with my head? I'm sitting on the edge of the bed while he stands before me, scratching and mussing my hair about like a fucking chimpanzee! The ol' latex gloves didn't feel too flash either with their rubberness catching all my strands. He was a really lovely doctor and chatted away to me nicely throughout, explaining that skin cancers don't necessarily need sun exposure to form and that (quote) they can pop up anywhere, even where the sun don't shine. What I didn't expect was for him to fucking check there!!! Wow, so right about then, I start praying, I want it over, I will be good forever, please please please. Fuck knows who I was praying to since none of them have ever listened before but I tells ye, I was willing to take a punt.

I was thinking positive, though (as they tell me to) and figured that that would be as bad as it could ever get. I was mostly right. He stumbled across something on my arse that needed attention and so got his special looking glass out and investigated even more closely! So I'm lying there, prone, while a perfect stranger puts his eye to a glass thing on my left cheek like it's a fucking diamond - but best of all (and this is me thinking positive again) was that by then, I didn't give a flying fig when he dug about in my boosies, crotch and armpits for lymph nodes - meh, big deal.

The good news is, nothing he saw concerned him enough to do anything besides send me a reminder letter for another shot next year. Hey, by that time we'll be old mates and maybe I'll feel less violated. The chances aren't great though.

The other good news is that if I can handle that sort of treatment and come out ok, the pap test I've been remiss about will seem like a walk in the park. Another check for another day.

Tagged...

Melissa has tagged me.
Prepare to be bamboozled with some very exciting facts!!! :P

1. Where is your cell phone? On the dining room table.
2. Where is your significant other? Reclining like a sloth chops on the other side of the room. :P
3. Your hair colour? Blonde
4. Your mother? Is a super dooper pessimist. I try not to be like that but alas, I fail often.
5. Your father? Cannot sit still and wigs out when the weather isn't sunny. Really. I also struggle with sitting still even though I'm lazy – go figure!
6. Your favorite thing? Those days that just feel perfect. Little faces I have helped to create, smiling up at me.
7. Your dream last night? A little too strange to go into, actually.
8. Your dream/goal? To live to see my children grow into happy and healthy adults. It's a shocking cliché, but nothing else comes close in importance.
9. The room you're in? Is strewn with toys.
10. Your hobby? Reading, writing and cooking. Oops, that's three. Mostly reading lately.
11. Your fear? Living with eternal heartache.
12. Where do you want to be in six years? I'd like to be focusing on career moves as well as parenthood.
13. Where were you last night? At home, eating Noodle Box noodles that weren't quite cooked properly. Those pricks.
14. What you’re not? Ambitious. Fathership HATES it.
15. One of your wish list items? A more child friendly backyard.
16. Where you grew up? Launceston, Tasmania until age 10 and then Gold Coast, Queensland. Still here.
17. The last thing you did? Ate way too many of those gingerbread flavoured cookies from Aldi – hey, I didn't have a container big enough for them all!
18. What are you wearing? Trackie dacks and a singlet.
19. Your TV? Has some sort of Pommy football (read soccer) stuff on it. Fathership's viewing.
20. Your pet? Two female cats; Spooky and Chops.
21. Your computer? Is my friend. My laptop blew up recently and I'm ashamed to say, it frightened me. I came close to getting a rash, I think.
22. Your mood? Is good. Some breakthroughs have been/are being made with H1 and I'm feeling quite a bit more positive about things.
23. Missing someone? Not really. Everyone I need is right here.
24. Your car? Is frighteningly messy. It also has a big bag for the Vinnie's bin in it that I've resorted to pillaging from these past few days due to unseasonal chilliness hitting us on our travels.
25. Something you’re not wearing? A bra. Thought I'd let the girls out for a while. ;)
26. Favorite store? Let me get back to you on that one.
27. Your summer? Will be spent whining. I prefer the cold.
28. Love someone? Love plenty. I went through some years not loving anyone and so I'm catching up.
29. Your favorite color? Blue
30. When is the last time you laughed? This afternoon. H2 still snorts like a girl possessed and how anyone can pull that face and still reek of gorgeousness is beyond me... And yet, she pulls it off. :)
31. Last time you cried? January. Somebody I loved was finding life too hard and so put a stop to it. The finality of suicide just overwhelms me.

I tag Ellie, Jodie, Jodes, Superbonus and Shannon!

Headline of the Year...

Bet you didn't know I was famous...

Can hardly blame them for wanting to keep me for so long. :P

Oops, I did it again

I really did. I may have mentioned the foot in mouth thing before. It got me again today.

Wandering through the shoe section of Myer to check out this latest, kind of frightening fascination with "gladiator" sandals/shoes, I came to a particularly eye catching display. Now I've seen some nasty shoes in my day but these were almost difficult to touch; they made me visibly cringe.

Another browser (of similar age to me, I suppose) appeared at the other side of the table and tilted her head from side to side, taking in the different styles. I looked at her, with a smirk and said "Ugh, hideous, aren't they?" to which she replied with nothing. Instead, she just walked around the table to where I was standing... WEARING A FUCKING PAIR!!!

Oh yes indeed. Granted, she didn't yet own them but let's be honest, she was only minutes away. I didn't even attempt to save my arse. Sometimes the hole just gets deeper.

Ten points, Ma!

Thanks for the encouragement today Mum; I really needed it.

I know you'd be sitting back at home now, marvelling at your ability to really tell me what-for. You'd be beating your chest and very likely ranting to Dad about how I only got upset because "it was the truth".

Well, you can sound the loser buzzer, Ma. That is not why I walked out. Yes, it most definitely was the truth (but I know it all already). I was hurt because you are my mother and I believe your primary role in life is to support me and back me up when I struggle. At those things, I'm sorry to say, you just failed.

Happy Father's Day

For tomorrow, Fathership, I wish you a happy day, year, and of course, life. With us!

Thank you for being a wonderfully kind, fun, loving and dedicated man. We are lucky - and I was most impressively clever to choose you to procreate with.

We love you.

Oh how I love her

I am just consumed.

As I hold her sleeping form against my chest, I am overwhelmed with the need to protect her. I squeeze her in to me, as tightly as I dare without waking her. I look to the future and hope, wish, pray that she will confide in me and allow me to continue my protection.

She is a comical soul and has the warmest brown eyes; so unlike my own very pale blue. I could just look at her all day long and sometimes, I do. Did I ever expect to love like this? Could I have known my heart would swell so much it's barely contained within my chest? The fatigue, the stress, the worry... it's nothing really, not when I have her.

Ahh, I'd like to stop the clock, just for a short while. I'm not ready for her to change quite yet. I love the tenacity she displays trying to walk a little before she's really ready. I'm in awe of the physical strength her perfect body displays. I delight in the adoration she has for her boisterous big brother; he's too young yet to know the magnitude of this bond.

How on earth did I get something so right?

Just when you thought boring old cheesecake was your fave dessert...

Along comes...

...drumroll please...

Mmm mmm, order me a boxful!

My mother

She has a real fucking knack of making me feel a million bucks.

Not.

A terror but still mighty cute

H1 was watching the Olympic high diving just now and as the two girls backed up to the end of the board, he leaned forward with real urgency and said "Be careful!"

Too sweet and really, such grown up advice from a boy not yet three.

Understatement of the Day

"He really is a terror."

(Fathership, in reference to H1.)

I'd had a whole bunch of other nouns circling 'round my head.

Tag-a-rama

I have been tagged by two peeps so far; Ellie and http://hissychick.com/ - hey hissy, I don't think I know your name!

Here are the rules ...

1. Link to the person who “tagged” you.
2. Post the rules on your blog.
3. Write six random things about yourself.
4. Tag six people at the end of your post.
5. Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
6. Let the tagger know your entry is up.


So here goes...

1. I have a shockingly good memory. For example, I know the lyrics to pretty much every song that's been written since about the 1950's. Not just the choruses either but the versus too; each and every one of them! Fathership spins right out and laments that I should be using my powers for something more useful than karaoke - meh, what does he know?!?

2. Both of my knees have rather large and kind of "lightning" shaped scars on them. Let's just blame a misspent youth for now, shall we?

3. I was an insomniac for most of my childhood and well into my late twenties. Nobody believed me - including my parents. It took my mum's stumbling upon my books and books of writing and poetry (all timed and dated) for her to take notice of what I'd been telling her. Regrettably even she couldn't convince our family doctor that I was suffering and he refused to prescribe any medication for "someone so young". I never went back to him again.

4. I have a history of going out with wankers and arseholes. Not sure what that's all about but there you go. I tell myself they were "for practice" and that because of them, I can now really appreciate the fabulous man I chose to marry. If I'd not experienced such shitheads, maybe I'd just assume all men were great. They're not.

5. I love to cook. As a mother of two, I don't quite get the opportunity I'd like to partake in my hobby but I really do enjoy throwing things together to create deliciousness.

6. I am lazy. Doing nothing is my favourite thing to do - or not do, as it were. It doesn't happen often nowadays but yay for lying about like a sloth!

Disclaimer: I cannot tag anyone for, alas, every single chappy I know in Blogland has been tagged! Hey, I followed all the other rules!

He's a Sensitive New Age Guy...

My H1, ever the SNAG, is not afraid of housework.

This morning, upon spilling a very large noodle bowl filled with sloppy Weet Bix and milk all over my white kitchen tiles, he proceeded to mop it up for me...

...using my brand spanking new, pale green, fluffy feather duster.

It's not so fluffy anymore.

You are cordially invited to...

cut my frikken tongue out!

Seriously.

H2 and I were having a leisurely stroll about the shops today, just quietly chillin' out.

Stumbled across another pram pushing mum and made the requisite mumsy small talk. Blah blah di blah. She had already seen H2 and made her giggle so I thought it only polite I pay her little boy some attention.

How did I do that? Well, so glad you asked. I looked at him, smiled and said "Oh... He's an interesting looking baby, isn't he?"

What the fuck??? How is that an acceptable comment to make!? What was I thinking? Clearly, I wasn't.

The worst part of all is that I didn't mean it in an unpleasant way. He really did just have unusual features; almost like an older child rather than a baby. The problem with situations such as this though is that the harder you try to dig yourself out, the deeper and deeper you get.

I couldn't get away fast enough... Possibly because I had one foot in my mouth.

GPS is my new love

Today saw the loss of my GPS virginity and frankly, I had no idea what I was missing!

It's like driving in one of those big arsed Sega rally car get-ups in Timezone! You have no clue whatsoever where the hell you're going and yet soldier on, ever bravely. This British accented woman and I became firm and fast friends.

I love her, I really do! For the first time in my life, I enjoyed being told what to do. I wasn't offended when she told me where to go. She kept me company all the way to the big smoke and ensured my safe arrival. We worked so frightfully well as a team.

She is so clever that even when I tried to get lost, she found us again. Who said women can't read maps?! She didn't even need to.

Ooh, somebody invite me somewhere a long way away. I want another hot date with my girl.

She comes bearing gifts...

I think.

Friday night is Em Eye Ell night - which, for those of you playing at home, stands for Mother In Law. H1 awaits her arrival with much anticipation and Fathership and I, well, we are slightly less enthusiastic. I suspect she is aware of this and so softens the blow each week with an offering of some kind. This week it was bananas. Please see below.

I'm sure she thinks we love the donations she makes to our diet but I'm struggling to be excited. Would it be rude to ask for money instead?

I'm afraid of getting old.

Here's my hot tip for the day:

If you absolutely must misplace your mobile telephone somewhere in the house, do not do it when the ringer volume is set to mute.

That's all I have to say about that.

A letter from our esteemed government

And really, the first two sentences are all you need, to get an idea of how things are going at Camp Rudd. (Well, technically three sentences, I suppose, but I digress...)

Dear Mrs Mothership

1) Your family has been assessed as being eligible for Child Care Benefit.

2) Your rate of Child Care Benefit, or how much you can be paid, is zero.

Well shit, he's just gone troppo in the generosity stakes, no? And wouldn't the second statement mean that I wasn't, in fact, eligible???

Two pieces of A4 paper, a window DL envelope and the price of postage - all to tell me... well, I'm fucked if I know!

What I probably SHOULDN'T have said

to the acne plagued young chap cashiering at our local independent grocery store:

"Oops, I just about tore your gadget off, then!"

I was referring (obviously) to the EFTPOS card swiping machine on the long springy coil.

He still looked like he'd have been happy to die rather than make eye contact with me again.

Things they DON'T tell you in the parenting books - Version 1

On occasion, it may be necessary for you to burp and belch for up to five minutes in order to maintain your 2 year old's happiness at bedtime. You may well border on hyperventilation but if it means the end of tears, you'll be happy to stagger out of there, light headed and shaky.

Goodnight sweetest boy. I love you.

Today has been one of those days...

where I could just hack out my ovaries with a tomahawk for fear of ever reproducing again. H2's capacity for screaming the house into a heap reached epic proportions today. My head's so sore I think my brain has actually shrunken and is rattling about within the confines of my skull.

What happened to Sunday being a day of rest? Is God punishing me for my atheism? Does that question even make sense?! I'll think that one through another day.

Oh and while I'm being angry; why the fuck do we sweat blood with these kids as they push through a mouthful of teeth only to have the fuckers fall out again within five odd years?!?! Seriously, who thought that shit up?

Now would not be a good time for (((hugs))). I am feeling mighty prickly.

What I learnt today

If a toddler asks you for a biscuit and it breaks coming out of the packet, he will think he has two biscuits. Woo hoo, watch me save an absolute fortune on groceries next week!

With a chop chop here and a break break there...

Wanky Number Plates (Version 1)

On the twelve minute journey from work to home...

MI MERC
No shit, Sherlock. It's a Mercedes and you're driving it. I didn't really need your help but thanks for forking out the dough.

SIKM8
Just the ticket to be pickin' up the ladeez. Hot diggidy dawg, if only I were a single gal!

GORJES
Well you'd wanna hope and pray that you are 'cause everyone's gonna be checking now.


(Version 1 because I just know you want more. I aim to please.)

I'm really hoping that elephants aren't terribly important in Thailand

Mainly because leaving our local Thai restaurant this evening, I tripped on a little timber one at the entrance and watched, mortified, as he somersaulted out the door and into the gutter.

Tell me I'm not eternally damned or bad feng shui'd forevermore... Please?

Some people really enjoy my clumsiness but I have to say, it's getting old.

Come on, nimrod!!!

H1's latest phrase. Just another example of why one should not swear when around impressionable children. Over the past two point five years I have tried to reduce my use of various forms of profanity and substituted with words such as idiot, numbskull and nimrod.

It's paid off. Yesterday while waiting behind a rather irksome driver at a roundabout, H1 pipes up (completely unprompted) from his car seat "COME ON NIMROD!"

I'm just proud as punch.

Who would I turn gay for?

Tagged by ellie

Easy peasy. Keira Knightley. Let me get one thing straight though - if you'll pardon the pun. I had the hots for her back in the Bend It Like Beckham days; I'm not much digging this current waify, sultry, pouty and posy look.

Here's the girl I mean:

Thanks for the strange blog "material" ellie!

I probably wont give up my day job

It occurred to me this morning that H1 doesn't appear to know any songs. I decided it was my parental duty to have him belting one out by day's end. I thought Twinkle Little Star seemed a good choice; he loved it as a baby... I thought wrong.

As I struck up the tune, his little face distorted into what could only be described as discomfort; he really did look ill. Not one to be easily discouraged, I persisted, expecting he might join in at some stage. Unfortunately, the nearer to the end I got, the sicker he looked until he covered his ears and said "Noooo Mummy. Noooo more. I sorry!"

Gee, way to boost a girl's confidence. I'll have him know that the last time I did karaoke, I was encored! He suffers from an utter lack of appreciation for the finer things, clearly.

As far as I'm concerned, he can just spend the rest of his days songless. He doesn't know what he's missing.

2 year old

+ silence
= trouble

Need I say more?

Shedding hmmm?

Whoever saw fit to describe menses as the shedding of the uterine lining is a FUCKHEAD - and absolutely must be male! Shedding?! Now come on! Show some respect please. That makes it sound all pleasant-like; as if it just floats on down - ever so gently - through one's cervix.

BULLSHIT!!! I'm not fooled medicos. No way, no how. I am all too aware of the bug-eyed gremlins inhabiting my uterus, wearing soccer boots and hacking away at me with ice picks.

Shedding, from here on in, shall be known as hacking and it's not up for discussion.

H1 is eating peas

Frozen ones. Who am I to judge? He asked for them and since they are a vegetable, I am rapt. Even better, the iciness is probably soothing his molar teething. It's a win/win situation really.

Yippee for Charlie and Lola! (H1 thinks he's nibbling on "Green Drops" you see.)

My God, I sound insane.

I am on the brink today, you know.

I beg your pardon?

Hey there big, impressive highschool boy. Thought I'd best mention that I do not much fancy being called a MILF. I know, I know, you probably thought you were being rather complimentary but, as you will hopefully learn in time, we women like the simpler, more old fashioned kindnesses - things like "You look great!" or even just a smile and a hello. To call a woman a MILF is essentially just letting her know that you might like to pump your penis into her repeatedly and let's face it, that would make us no better than your sweaty, grimy little palm.

Did I just tell my two year old to "Grow up" ???

Holy smokes Batman, I need a holiday.

You know you're getting old when...

So yesterday I was 50% child free (that means one is at kindy, for those of you playing at home) and so a prime time for some retail therapy. H2 took it upon herself to behave like an absolute champion and frankly, I was walking on sunshine! I got to actually browse and play about as opposed to my usual snatch and grab purchasing efforts.

Headed straight for one of my fave stores and relished the opportunity to spend some hardcore quality time coveting the goods. They had hairbands that I just knew would be a glorious tool to hide my hair - I don't have bad hair days; I'm living a bad hair life - but could not decide on a colour. I tried them all on, doing my best to choose one that might just go with everything (we are on a budget, after all) and had decided on one neutral enough to wear with most things.

I take it to the counter to pay and once the cashier performs the requisite "Hey, whatcha doin', how's your day been?" bullshit, she says, ever so nicely "Umm, I saw you trying them on and, like, did you know they're actually tops?" Well fuck me, common sense would dictate that if I did, in fact, know that, I would have been wrapping them around my breasts rather than my fucking head, little girl - that's what I wanted to say. What I said instead though, was "Well, like, der. But as if I'm gonna conform and do just what you think I should do with them!" (along with putting on my best ever Kylie Mole face). That stumped her; knocked her for an absolute six. She looked confused as hell and I thanked the good Lord for providing me with such vacuous teenage service.

"Ok... Cool. I was just checking" she says as she bags up my purchase. I turn on my heel and walk outta there with my head held high - taking comfort in the fact that she'll probably head out tonight with one wrapped 'round her noggin too.

Ahh, all in a day's work.

I'll take it back next week.

Is that really the time???

How is it 1pm? Seriously, it was 9.30am just minutes ago! Well, two hundred and ten minutes ago anyway! Don't get me wrong; I love that the morning went so fast because it means there is less time to wait until Fathership's return to assist with the taming of the beasts but...

Well fuck, I am still in my pajamas for one! H2 has been fed, changed, changed, fed, washed, changed, argued with and put to bed twice (albeit unsuccessfully) and H1 is also still in his night attire complete with Vegemite smears from lunch - or was it breakfast, I've lost track!

I simply have not stopped today and yet have precious little to show for it. The living room looks like the product of a recent home invasion and I look like Orphan Annie - except that she was cute. There's just no structure, no routine. I was never terribly organised but this is unbelievable! How are two tiny human beings ruling my domain so thoroughly? All I do is race from one to the other, trying to placate and abate. I'm rather like a politician really. I lie, I cheat, I simper, I bullshit... If only I had the wage! And that's the pissiest part; I work my tail off and get sweet FA for it, nada!

Ok, so that's not true. I get masses of "cuddools", kisses, heart wrenching grins and kooky giggles. Like having a chauffeur, PA, corporate lunches and eight day fortnights could ever top that! Ok Ren, stop thinking too hard, la la la, I'd hate it, I would! It'd be boring and loathsome and...

Please be mindful of others...

...during times of exercise.

To the man doing the half jog/half I'm-gonna-die shuffle up the hill this morning, if you simply must wear those too-small swishy fabric rugby shorts during your morning trek, please show some consideration and tug them back down once they've ridden up your legs. Seeing your underpants-clad, exhausted testicles hanging halfway down your thigh was not my idea of a pleasant visual experience.

What's doing with this sign?!?

Wandering today in a local shopping centre, I came across a cluster of tables plastered with this little beauty...

Since when were the non-smokers the ostracised?!?!


Must be where the cool kids sit.


Or perhaps a place where supermodels might choose to dine.

Can one die from extreme fatigue?

If so, you'd best get saving for flowers.

I must need glasses

because whenever I attempt to reply to something someone has blogged, that goddamned word verification thing pisses me around!!! I go through about three fucking lots of it before I just happen to fluke it right. At least use font I can read you arseholes - not something akin to frikken Webdings!!!

Ok, so I've not had a lot of sleep lately.

You know you have wealthy homies when...

Driving with Fathership today, we were discussing a friend of mine whom I've not spoken to in a while. I mentioned that the last time I saw him I'd not had the opportunity to chat at all and there was a chance he thought I'd given him the royal brush off. Fathership wanted to know if maybe I'd been in touch electronically - which I had already tried.

"He's not replied yet and that was about a fortnight ago." I said, thinking that indeed, I must be in the shit.

"Oh." says Fathership, all noncommittal.

So I say "Yep, I reckon he's cross with me... Either that or he's in Europe."

Silence in the car. I look at Fathership, he looks at me. We both laugh like dickheads at the reality of what I've just said.

He sure is a rich fucker, that one.

Daddies are super heroes

Remember that feeling you had as a child that your daddy could do anything - I mean anything?! He was the guy who had the magical powers to repair all things great and small and there was never a task beyond his capabilities.

At the moment H1 has a bit of a fascination with measuring tapes. His poppy, you see, has a double garage absolutely overflowing with delightful tools and gadgets and H1 would live in there if we allowed it. I'll admit to being tempted to say yes on occasion but regrettably, it's ever so dangerous. I've not enjoyed the measuring tape phase to be quite frank because, let's face it, they're nasty pieces of work. That razor sharp strip of metal snaps back into its housing at the speed of light and the potential for removing ears and dissecting eyeballs is much too great for my liking so...

I purchased a lovely little replica from Crazy Clark's. It does all the same stuff as the ones from Poppy's garage except accidental body modifications - which pleases me greatly. It's small and fits perfectly into my pocket just ready for an emergency diversion at the shops when H1 decides he'd love a family block of Cadbury or fifteen artificially coloured Chupa Chups. He wanders around the house with it, plucking the tape out and letting it go again and thinks he's just the duck's nuts (which he is, of course!) H1 loves his tape measure and as a result, so do I - it's also silent so just when you think things couldn't possibly get any better...

Anyway, I digress. Where was I? Oh yes, daddies, super heroes and all that. So H1 was bumbling about in his room this morning and finally reappeared with something in his hands. He walks over to Fathership, hands him his wares and says (ever so earnestly)...

"Fix, Daddy?" Gotta love the optimism.

Fathership's Quote of the Day:

"I'm really disillusioned with this whole breeding thing."

Self explanatory really.

Roll over Susie Homemaker...

'Cause I just fucking vacuumed!!! I cannot believe how hideously proud of myself I am - and how ashamed, disgusted and somewhat embarrassed I am that I feel so proud! All of a sudden my lounge area looks mammoth! I truly had no idea there was so much floor space.

Now for those of you playing at home, yes, I am predominantly a stay at home mum but with a rascally two year old and a 15 week old who has not yet learnt the art of sleeping, completing simple daily tasks has been taken to a new dimension - seriously, some of the food I have prepared in recent weeks would stand your hair on end. Hey, at least I am preparing meals right? I mean, the RSI in my index finger from chronic dinner dialling actually seems to have eased of late.

So where was I? Oh yes, the floors! Well they looked so damn fine that I just couldn't help myself; I dusted the entertainment unit - and not just with one of those fluffy dusting scenarios that merely moves the dust to a new place, no siree, I actually wiped it away with a cloth - sprayed with furniture polish!!! Oh Lordy, what a buzz! Who knew that thing was crafted from timber?!? :P

Right about now I am thanking my lucky stars I don't have flour and similar nonsense in the kitchen 'cause who knows the shit I might bake?! Marion Cunningham, eat your heart out! Okily dokes, have to run! I simply must get to the salon to have my hair set in preparation for the man of house's return. I have shirts to press and silverware to buff...

Actually, bugger all of that. A shower would be bliss.

PS. Baby Girl, if you're reading Mama's blog, today need not be the only day you experiment with napping. I would be just as happy to feel this elated, ohhhhhh, dare I say, once a week?!?!

I always wondered where clowns do their shopping...

but I wonder no more.

This week at Aldi supermarket, one can pick up a mighty fine looking unicyle. Yes folks, that's right, race into your nearest store to land yourself one of these ever so practical transportation units. A perfect gift for the "man who has everything"...

Tagged...

by Ellie

Hmmm, why do I blog? It’s a combination of things I suppose.

Fathership has been on to me about it for quite some time. He feels the weird shit that happens to me should be documented – possibly so that others may see that their lives aren’t so scary after all. He also says I am a good writer – bah, some people will bleat anything to get a girl in the sack!

I also blog because it saves me from speaking. Why is that a good thing? Well because I am fucking lazy mainly and rather frequently can’t be bothered vocalising my nonsense. It also saves some other poor soul from listening to my tripe – what could be better than that?!?! By the time Fathership gets home from the quarry and I have spent the day with our spawn, we are both generally too exhausted to even pretend we’re interested in one another so this way, we don’t have to!

Finally, I blog because it’s like, totally the new black. :P Really. I saw so many people about the traps starting blogs and figured that if they can, I can too. So here it is.

Oh yes, I now tag Emma since Ellie's tag has not yet guilted her into it and, um, I also tag Mel just to share the love.

Wiping

I seem to do a tremendous amount of that lately.

Oh, and for the record...

Babies don't always cry for a reason. Sometimes they just fucking cry. She is clean, dry, warm (but not too warm, so don't ask!), medicated, fed, burped, cuddled, tired and ready to sleep BUT WILL NOT - and hasn't all day I might add.

My dietary intake today

has consisted of:

Three rows of a family sized block of Cadbury dairy milk chocolate;
Five rolls of Fruit Tingles (hey, they were "snack sized" ok?);
Approximately sixteen Minties and
Six hot milos

I only wish sugar had the same effect on me as I've seen it have on some kids. I then may have been able to deal with the day I've had - which is, after all, the very reason my "meals" have been this way.

Dinner had best be dialled or it too, will follow suit.

If I blow my nose one more time...

I swear my head will cave in.

It's my bloggy and I'll cry if I want to

I feel shitty today. I feel fat and ugly and in need of a boost. I'd dearly love to frock up and go somewhere child unfriendly. H1 has caught his first kindy cootie and has been fabulous enough to share it with me. My eyes itch, I'm sneezing and my nostrils are flaky. I need to lie on the couch and have my feet rubbed but Fathership is too tired to see straight and can't reach me anyway since there is a basinette between us with a live person in it.

Oh, fruit of my loins, why must you ail me so?!?!

Cheap thrills

I stumbled upon a credit card on my way to the car following work this afternoon. A gold credit card no less; a gold credit card with merely initials signed on the back. Ooh, how easy it would be to forge such simple blue letters. It was Valentine's Day after all and it would have been quite lovely to buy myself a fantabulous pressie but alas, I am a law abiding citizen (generally speaking anyway) and so I looked up the cardholder's name in the White Pages and made a call. Cardholder didn't even know the card was lost - oh what a spree I could have had!

Wouldn't you know it? Doing the right thing was rather nice - possibly not quite as nice as the five carat diamond ring I had envisioned, but pleasant just the same. ;)

Please, not the "Irresistible Switch"!!!

So knowing full well that tomorrow will be a shit fight with a horribly early start, I decided to pack H1 off to bed a little sooner than usual so that I might prepare for said horror. He's a delight to put to bed I will admit. We pop him in and say goodnight and he has this funky little OCD-esque routine where he has to kiss Mama, kiss Daddy and then kiss Mama again. We then pull the covers over him and walk out to the sounds of him saying "Bye, bye, night night!" in his Godfather voice (don't ask 'cause I don't know) and then we close the door to the sounds of him smacking his lips with blowing kisses. Fathership and I both love it; it's easy and ever so lovely.

Starting last night, however, H1 learnt the art of switching his light on and off. After tucking him in we heard all sorts of banging and crashing but thought nothing of it since he always buggers about for a while. I eventually went up to lend an ear to the shenanigans only to see light from under his door - and, of course, more noise. Upon cracking the door open I discover he has emptied his wardrobe onto his bed, found the makings of a Boori cot and is riding a big piece of timber about like a fucking hobbyhorse! Innocent Chops looks up at me and says "Hi Mama!" just as plain as you like - as if everyone does this sort of shit instead of sleeping. Long story short, we repeated the exercise twice more until he eventually fell asleep among his collection of loot - with the light on, of course.

Tonight we repeat the same bedtime routine because really, that's all we know, and again we get the crashing and thumping about. At one point there is a very loud and mildly disturbing bang and I race in to investigate since we've already been to the hospital with a concussion courtesy of bedroom climbing. H1 has taken all of the books off his bookcase - remind me to take that away too since he evidently climbs the shelves - and is muttering all sorts of nonsense in his I'm-so-cute voice. Fathership has joined the party by this time and is blessed with a range of stories and bits and pieces pointed out in the books. We inform H1 that it is, in fact, time to sleep and get that heart wrenchingly loud and bellowing cry they seem to pull from deep within their soul - shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! Like it's not enough I have to deal with that on the unfortunate mornings I drop him at kindy.

We eventually allow him to traipse after us back to the lounge room and wouldn't you know it, he's punched the Irresistible Switch! You know, when they get up close in your face, look deep into your eyes and tell you all sorts of gorgeous things? He proceeds to prattle on and on about nothing in particular and makes it ever harder for us to return him to his room. It's "Mama" this and "Daddy" that and frankly, I can't stand it. Funny how he really wasn't even half this cute before we put him to bed - and yet I still can't bring myself to deal with the problem. It's the earnest little face, it's way too much! Even as I type, he's lying on the floor beside his daddy narrating Thomas the Tank Engine for him.

What's up with me? Am I getting pathetic in my old age; is parenthood whittling away at the woman I once was? Ahh, I remember before children when I used to gallop aboard my high horse and spout all sorts of shit about how I'd never allow them to run amok, I'd never let them run rings around me...

Sanctimonious bitch.

Dear fellow road user...

• Green means go. Accelerate and get the fuck out of my way.
• Indicators are for showing people where the goddamn you're headed.
• Rain makes the road slippery and visability poor. Drive accordingly.
• Roundabouts? Well shit... At the very least, indicate left coming off the thing!
• Red means stop. Just fucking do it.
• Try to change one lane at a time. It's much safer.
• Intersections are not the place for overtaking.
• Speaking of overtaking, that's what the right lane is for - it's not your own little world to dawdle along in all day long.
• Don't get too close if you're behind me. I will not be bullied by you or anyone else.
• Just because I drive a Holden and you're in a Ford, does not make me some bogan itching for a drag. Grow the fuck up.
• Park on the correct side of the road. I believe it's illegal to do otherwise.
• Try to eat, dress, brush your teeth and shave before you get in the car - please.

Thanks for your attention. Hopefully these little tips wont cause you too much brain strain. Oh and PS, if any of your idiotic actions ever cause any harm to either of my babies, I will kill you with my bare fucking hands.

I've changed my mind

"What would you like for Valentine's Day?" he asks me a few weeks ago. "Meh, that's a lot of shit; don't bother with it." I tell him in earnest.

I've since changed my mind.


Dear Valentine's Day God

What I would really and dearly love as a gift right now is for everyone to shut the fuck up. Just for an hour.

Kind regards from The Exhausted One.

Indians and 7 Elevens

Serious question here: Why are all 7 Eleven workers Indian? We drove by three today in a really short space of time and I couldn't help but notice that all three cashiers were Indian (or of very similar heritage). I guess I've always thought it was a cliche but it's not, is it?

"Tight for time" housework tip # 1

When you're tight for time and your kitchen tiles are filthy, pop a baby wipe under each foot and skate about like Jane Torvill. - Simple (and a little bit fun as well!)

The joys of parenthood

So Fathership wakes H2 for a feed tonight and sits her on his lap. "Oh oh" he says and I ask him what's up. "My inner thigh just got really, really warm." he tells me with horror. He lifts her to allow further investigation and one sniff of the dampness tells me he's fairly safe as far as substance goes.

Bet in all his years he never thought he'd be relieved for someone to have urinated on him.

My comment/remark of the day...

"Deadset man, do you think your word hole is the only one I have to feed in a day!?!?!"

Egad, parenthood is bringing me undone.

I'm so predictable

I knew it, I just knew it. The other reason I've never started a blog is because of all the things I mentioned last time. I have the attention span of a two year old and just can't commit! It hurts me to sit still for over ninety seconds at a time and as pathetic as that is, I just don't care!!! it's a shame though because I have such insight, I have so much to share. :P Maybe I should try meditation but that too would involve sitting still - arrrgggghhh! Valium should do nicely. Now to find a doctor that might prescribe solely for the purpose of blogging...

Here we go...

So after much persuasion courtesy of my better half, I have decided to contribute to the masses of bullshit on the www and start a blog - start being the operative word. For those of you not aware, I never, ever finish anything; I am a deadset quitter and as idle as a sack of shit. Fathership has labelled me Homer Simpson and I am not inclined to argue in any tremendous hurry.

My blogging career might have begun sooner but as a sufferer of OCD I figured that unless I had started wayyy back at the beginning of my life, nobody would ever really know the full story of me - kind of like if I were to start collecting, for example, stamps, there would be 32 years of wasted stamps that I could have collected but didn't (if you know what I mean!) That right there is the nutty sort of shit that races around this rattling skull of mine so be warned!

I was once called "The Shit Magnet" 'cause oddly weird shit always happens to me - all the time I should add. I've had friends confess to having not believed my recollections before actually spending time with me and becoming a part of the experience that is my life. How hurt I was to discover that these plebs thought things such as me being whacked in the snatch with a blind man's cane while using an ATM could ever have been anything but gospel! Seriously, where do they get off???