How Much of it Matters?

I sometimes worry about the pieces of our lives that we haven't quite managed to pick up again, since Mum died, since coming back from the trip.

The girls aren't doing any activities outside of school and home.  We are unscheduled.Which is lovely.
Some of the reason is financial, some of the reason is due to the hours we both now work. It means that my Dad has the bulk of all after school and early evening time and I want it to be peaceful and relaxed for all of them.

I worry about the skills they might be missing out on but it is also guilt. Am I a bad parent if my child doesn't participate in a team sport?  Have I doomed them to a life of couch potato or hanging out with the "wrong" crowd.

Then I read this awesome paragraph on the HONY page.

It answered my question.

“The hardest was when she left for college. We dropped her off a couple days early, so the campus was empty, and I have this very clear image of her walking alone across the quad. I stared at my daughter’s back while she literally walked into the next phase of her life. So many questions were running through my mind: ‘Did we prepare her enough? Is she happy? Will she feel comfortable enough to tell us if she’s not?’ Looking back, I wish I hadn’t fretted so much over the small stuff. When she was young, we were worried so much about whether she started on the soccer team, or if she got chosen for the front row at the dance competition, or if she was playing flute at the recital. We worried so much about that stuff because we were looking for any sort of validation that we were doing a good job. And in our desperation to be good parents we became our children. I wish I knew how fast all that stuff would fade away. And how little any of that would matter once she became an adult.”

Thank you random New Yorker. You have helped me more than you know.

 

How do you know its true love??

I arrived home from work today and found Dad sad.
He had been reading his old letters to Mum. There was a lovely poem in one.
It was true love between my Mum and Dad, but not because of the poetry.

It wasn't perfect, it wasn't sudden. It required a lot, like heaps, of work and compromise.
Mum was a young Portuguese woman, who had been ill, marrying a widowed older man with a son...In a different country. But I know from the stories and I can see in the photos that there was always laughter and friendship. There was also a solid 12 months of serious wooing on my Dads part :)

I am not sure what it felt like from their point of view...but I can give my own perspective, a kids perspective, on why I knew it was love.

Nick names, they had many and varied nick names for each other, a constantly evolving list, some serious and some funny. Like "Nudibranch". It was the nickname Dad used for Mum when she "streaked" to the bathroom. She did this a lot.

Every morning and every evening they greeted each other with a kiss, every morning Dad made mum breakfast or at least coffee.

They laughed at each other. Mum did many funny and crazy things.
Dad also copped his fair share from Mum. When Dad was younger and rocked an awesome moustache, he looked a lot like John Cleese. Mum and Dad went to see "A fish called Wanda" in the cinema. Apparently Mum spent most of the time pointing at Dad and then pointing at the screen and losing it with laughter, so much so that Dad got up and left the cinema. They were real.

They knew each other, faults and all. Dad would never stop Mum, no one could anyway. But right or wrong, Dad would let Mum go and do her own things and was always there to pick up any pieces. Mum, conversely supported Dad and through all the ups and downs they were always, always on the same team.

Compromise. Mum liked to eat chinese take away from the Fremantle markets on the weekend. Dad loved to listen to classical music and read the paper. The result was that every Saturday we would get takeaway and sit in the car at the South Mole in freo, listening to Dads music and watching the ocean, while he read the paper. One of my favourite memories, is sitting in the backseat with the calvin and hobbes comics and a whopper.....

Mum once said that Dad was her "safe". No matter what she had done or how ill she became, she knew that Dad would be there for her and help her. Nobody knew her better.

I didn't realise how lucky I was to have them as my example of marriage.
Now I am sad. This weekend is Mothers Day and also My Mums Birthday. This is for the lady who taught me what love is.

Success Vs Failure and the Average Jane

Success is the accomplishment of an aim or purpose. Failure is the lack of success.

Heston Blumenthal admitted that in his pursuit of a successful cooking empire and world famous restaurant, he lost his marriage and it severely impacted his relationship with his children, he wasn't "much of a dad". Is that success? Has he won at life? His bank balance would say so, I guess.

On paper, my failures well out way any successes. By 25 I was bankrupt, divorced, unemployed and living back at home. I think I hurt a lot of people, mostly I learned that I was hopelessly unequipped to handle all of the above at the time.

My aim or purpose since then, while fleetingly getting distracted by delusions of grandeur like owning multiple holiday houses and a jet while having gold plated lattes, has been happiness. That experience, while traumatic, was really useful to point out to me at a really young age that work, career, business and money are really fleeting and while necessary do not wholly offer fulfilment. I needed to relearn this lesson recently after my 5 years in real estate, I didn't say I was a fast learner.

Don't allow set backs to kill your dreams but conversely don't allow your dreams to define you or your happiness.

I'm not about to renounce my worldly possessions and live in a yurt (they don't get good wi-fi and I like showering), I am not saying don't have a plan or work hard,  I am just glad to have this current perspective.

Success, right this moment, is on a micro level.

Writing this blog (while a little hungover)?...Winning

Lamingtons for afternoon tea?...Boo Yah!

Date night with Dave?.....High five

A good, busy day at work?....Bonus

Being organised enough to bring left overs to work for lunch?...Genius

Laughing so hard that I can't form coherent sentences for 15  minutes?...Priceless

Failure allows you to move the goal posts to where ever the hell you like or for a short time, it allows you to take your bat and ball and go home.


Don't let your business card be your autobiography. The world needs people like Steve Jobs and Heston Blumenthal with stubborn single minded purpose and vision, but it also needs its Average Janes who can rock the shit out of their everyday.

The Universe is Laughing...Parents edition

F...U....2...Universe.

Murphy's Law...Parent edition

If there is a chance of showers and you are ready to pick up or drop off your child from school it will rain cats and dogs for exactly 6.8 minutes, the time it takes to get from the car to under cover.

If you, the parent are busting for the loo, all the children will automatically fill their bladders and bowels and NEEEEEEED to go before you.

The more you talk about or "Hype" up an exciting event with the children, the more shit it will be. So, for Disney land, we kidnapped our children in the middle of the night with black hoods over their heads and said we were going to the dentist.

If your husband and you are trying to have an important conversation, that will be the exact moment your little sweetheart will want to explain, in very in depth detail, their leaf collection.

The more important the day ahead, the higher the chances of the children having no clean underwear. No joke, first day of school this week, no clean underwear in the house.... Dave was ironing wet underwear that had just been washed at 7:30am.....they own, like, 50 pairs.....

The longer into the school year it is... the less F*** given. "We have a tin of sardines and a pappadum for your lunch box today....yummmmmmy".

The childs need to vomit and get violently ill correlates directly with the moment you fall most deeply and comfortably asleep. Also the more tired you are the higher the chances of this happening.

Finally, the more love you feel, the more guilt, fear and wine you experience xx

How I ended up Aussie

I wasn't born here. I am an Australian citizen. I can throw on an Aussie accent that would make Steve Irwin, Slim Dusty and Pauline Hanson shed a tear of pride. My kids are the first generation of my family to be born here. So what does it mean to me to be "Australian"?

Firstly, it means to be funny. We walk the line of irreverent shit giving and good natured self depreciation that makes us some of the funniest people in the world, second only to the Scottish...they just sound funny without having to try.

We are honest. Call a spade a spade or a dickhead a dickhead, as the case may be.

After travelling a bit and seeing a lot, I can also say that we are in the enviable position  of being able take all our luck, safety, isolation, beauty and richness for granted. Apart from days like today.

The story of why my parents decided to immigrate from Zimbabwe, is a small example of the things we don't ever need to think about.

My Mum was pregnant with me. At the time there was civil unrest and armed guerrilla militia were becoming a common sight. My mum was walking on the foot path in a shopping precinct. The foot path was blocked by some militia walking with machine guns towards Mum. Rather than allowing Mum to pass, they pushed her over into the road and traffic. That night, bruised and scared my parents decided to get out of Africa.

Apparently we had the choice to move to Australia or Canada. I am really glad this isn't a blog about the virtues of Maple syrup and snow.

Cheers to being Aussie.

Can someone please hurry the f** up and invent a time machine already??

Like sands through the hourglass... lol, just jokes.

I have just realised that Leah, my 9 year old, won't hold my hand anymore. Even when crossing the street. "Mum, I can see the cars...(eye roll, huffiness)".
What if its not for your safety , child, but mine!?? I hardly remember I am an adult half the time....

All the dolls are gone... slowly merging into a knotty mass of plastic limbs in the black hole of our storage room. Playgrounds??? Nah... lets go to a cafe Mum.

Tooth Fairy?.... hmmm the jury is out on that one. Leah asked some questions and gave a raised eye brow in response to how I am not sure why she thinks its me... But I think the tooth fairy has brown hair ....possibly carrying a few extra kilos...dressed in Pjs....ooops.

Santa is still safe ...mainly cos he is kick arse at giving gifts.

Photos? Not unless an out fit has been styled appropriately with "Rock star" hair and correct filter and I have promised not to put them on Facebook (yes, I lie...I'm a Mum)

Boyfriends...soon, all to frigging soon.

Sigh...  So as we hurtle towards Teenagerhood (shiver), I happily grab Brianna (Miss 8) and give her a big smoochy public kiss while skipping up the road.

Today, here in Perth, there has been a terrible story reported of the loss of innocence and childhood at the hands of a yet - to -be - caught monster for a little 5 year old boy and 4 year old girl. It makes me sick  and heartbroken and I don't, at all, want to make light of it. So while I am lamenting the fast pace of childhood, give them all an extra cuddle tonight.

Things I said that I deserved a punch in the head for.... A tribute to Mothers Day

As Mothers Day fast approaches, the following statements were my pearls of wisdom prior to having kids....


I'm never giving my future child junk food. I could make a much better "Happy meal" at home.

I am going to take my baby with me everywhere. I'll strap them onto my chest and we will travel the world. We will be best friends.

I think I could probably home school my kids... they will be geniuses.

My kids won't be "Like That".

Being at home with the baby will be easy, I can study and start a whole new career.

I will make sure my child has started an instrument at 3. Its very good for their future development.

Treat them like adults, take them to fancy restaurants and cultural events and they will learn to behave correctly in these places.

I don't see how there can be that much difference between a cloth nappy and Huggies?

I dont think time out is necessary, surely you can just calm them down and explain?



BWHHAAAHAHAHAA.... aw I crack myself up.....

Reality was a very different thing. I honestly felt like I needed a standing ovation, trophy and a friggen scratch and sniff sticker every time we all left the house not covered in food /snot, with brushed teeth and pants.

There was a time, shortly after birth, alone in the dark pit of the very very early morning... when I realised just what a twat I had been.

If you haven't had kids yet but think you will... Shut up, just shut up and to all the Parents, Here is a trophy and applause!

I thank my lucky stars

Today I was sad. Its ok, it is what it is. It just felt a little like a headache but in my chest.

I was just looking through photos of our 6 month trip.  I know I don't talk about it much. It seems surreal now.

Actually thats not true, I just have trouble conjuring up the feelings from the trip because of what happened after.

We were so lucky, so so lucky to have been able to do what we did. To just "upticks and go" and 6 months and 1 week of adventure, pure freedom and fun.

I am really grateful for all of what we experienced but I am most grateful for WHEN it happened. Consider this, If we had gone when I had proposed we go, January, we wouldn't have been able to go at all. Mum passed on January 21st, just two weeks after we got back.

As it happens our trip went off without a hitch, we escaped not only unscathed but completely ready to do it all over again. It was like we got given the universal green light.

Dont get me wrong it wasn't all sunshine and roses, there was the time that Leah got onto a crowded peak hour Paris subway train and I got caught in the doors, trying desperately to open them before it whisked away my eldest child...on her own. There was the great Blood nose of Milan, when I had to practically bathe Brianna in a public fountain, which then turned a worrying shade of Pink. There was the stroll through the "red light" district in Montmarte, where my children learned that "Pussy" has two meanings, there was the time I got drunk on Baileys and decided I could ride Leahs scooter... I ate gravel, there was the sprained ankle in the Grand canyon which we told Leah to "shake off" (great parenting moment 2015), there was the gastro outbreak in L.A which resulted in spewing out the window of the rental car...semi successfully, there was poisoned snails in Barcelona which along with the gin is a night I would rather forget, there was the Toga party in Las vegas, we didn't attend but it happened around our motorhome for about 5 hours, it feels weirdly exposing when people party right outside where you are sleeping.... Oh and there was "Dick and Balls" in Louisiana. A state park so grungy and dodgy and swamp like, that I was expecting squirrel and moonshine for dinner... It also was shaped like a dick and balls on the map....

It wasn't sunshine and roses but it was perfect and I thank my lucky stars.

DICK AND BALLS, LOUISIANA

Op Shop Fashionistas

Yes, they smell like old socks and Nana, yes there will be some "special" people also shopping but its a world of unlimited fashion imagination to my kids.

One of my girls likes to be slightly tom boyish and edgy, the other, girlie and pretty and sweet.
Shopping at Target or whatever is hard. 1. because they each have very strong opinions on the different styles they wear and also because they are in larger sizes than their age. Meaning my 8 year old wears a kids 12-14 and my 9 year old wears a 10-12.
The style of clothes in the regular shops aren't age appropriate. Tiny little shorts and midriff t-shirts with "All the boys want me" scrawled across it is not my idea of little girls wear.

So together we scour the treasures at our local three op shops. We are getting really good at finding cool, slightly unusual and fun clothes.

We have these rules:

Never buy underwear
Try everything on
Never go op shopping in a rush, two hours minimum
Don't Op shop in a swanky or funky area, the clothes will be heaps more expensive and the attitude way more annoying.

So use the school holidays as an excuse and go musty, dusty, op shop diving. Don't worry the smell washes out ;-)

Don't be scared of the Overshare or the Over, Over Share :)

For that matter, don't be scared to say how you feel, how your day is really going or if you may have just set your world on fire and are now officially screwed.

I am not saying this because I want to know your secrets. I say this because each time you share, really share,
 some one else is thinking "Thank fuck for you, I am not the only one!".

Every time I write a personal story or crap fest on my blog, I cringe and then I think "good, if i am embarrassed or worried, It means it is real, I am not pretending."

Take it a step further, be real on social media. I don't care what filter, what brand, or what colour code the horse shit is... its still horse shit.

I dont give a shit about the latest meme, I care that you are ok.  I care that I am not so ok and maybe one of you is the same and we can talk and laugh and be a bit better. I care that I feel like since I have shared more of myself, more people have my back.

Thank you.

Here is a list of things I am happy/proud about.

Please share things you are happy/proud about too. One day I will get the balls to share things I am not proud of, but today is not that day.

1. My kids, They aren't perfect, but they are pretty cool and a lot weird which make me happy.
2. This blog. I can write, never realised I wanted too until recently
3. I am a pretty good problem solver. Not the paper quiz type but the "how do we pay our mortgage this month", "we only have $20 bucks till payday" kind of problem solver.
4. I am easy going. If Dave wants to play golf every weekend, if the kids want to stay in their pyjamas all day doing interpretive dance, I'm ok with it. I do go pyscho and think "what the F**" but not all the time, maybe not even some of the time.
5. I am strong. Stronger than I seem, stronger than I can show. This last couple of months has proven that to me. I may one day still face a tougher time than I have recently, but I have gotten through this, I can get through that. It will all be ok. I really believe that now.
6, I am middle of the road. Being the "Jack of all trades" and the master of none is something I wear with pride. Bring on the next chapter, the next adventure, the next choice. I am free to choose randomly. The better and more extreme you are about something, the smaller your choices.
7. I have good boobs ... :-)

Share and Over share alike people.

Jesus H Christ... Its just an iPad

Its just an iPad not a bloody strangling, spanking, choke hazard, assault bomb.

The way people are carrying on at the moment you would be forgiven for thinking your precious child is going to turn feral and murder everyone at the sight of one "you - know -what".

Its an iPad and much like its bulkier older cousins the TV and the xbox, it is a great, sometimes educational mostly recreational baby sitter. It is... There I said it. Yes, the iPad entertains my children when I have other things I need to do.

No i'm not advocating propping up your 1 year old in front of one while you head out to the club to down tequila shooters. No I am not saying that 16 hours straight is going to have a positive effect on your childs development. What I am saying that used in moderation along with the other tools in my Mummy arsenal,  it can be a bit of a saviour and no I am not bloody timing their "screen time" down to seconds.  These kids are more adept at navigating on an iPad than anyone I know over the age of 30. It is NORMAL to them, just like rollerskating and blue eye shadow was to us.
Its so normal that its not a big deal. Sometimes my kids want to play on it sometimes they don't. The more of a HOO HAAA these medical types make about the damn things the more they will think its something special.

Remember when people thought Rock music was the devil?? This is the price of progress people. You don't have to like it, whole groups of people don't, they complain loudly about the danger of iPads and iPhones... on their blogs.

To be really honest, after 6 months travelling with the kids, even if they discovered that iPads were hidden portals to hell... I would still have to give it some serious consideration.

So roll into the chaos and mayhem of the school holidays and joyfully embrace the iPad and a glass of wine. Cheers

What do you want to be when you grow up?

Puppy Trainer, rock star and skateboarding fashion designer are my Kids current career choices and I hope the list is still the same when they are 45. I want them to stay open, stay free, because you sure as hell don't know whats right for your life at 17.

I firmly believe the fact that I have no particular direction when it comes to career has led me into the most interesting roles. Yes I am poorer, no I won't be a secure self funded pensioner, but I have life skills up the wazoo.




I am easily distracted when it comes to work/ job ideas and could easily apply for the role of Segway tour guide, dental receptionist and cake decorator all in one day.

I know without a doubt that I would make a kick-arse lady of leisure. You know, the pearl wearing do - lunch lady who volunteers once a month at some charity for rich dyslexic puppies and who's idea of housework is to write a note for the cleaning lady.

or maybe a tortured writer?, small cabin in the country, polo neck jumper, a goat and 4 dozen half written novels and a borderline addiction of some sort?

In all seriousness though, if my fairy god mother was to grant me the opportunity to win any job I wanted in the world, I would choose to be the "Colour trend forecaster" for Pantone (the world famous experts in all things colour). I am not even sure this role exists, but I dream that it goes something like this. I travel the world with a camera and photograph colours and colour combinations both in natural and urban settings. I find inspirational colours.

or win lotto, you know, I am easy.

Poke... yep still hurts

When you find a bruise on your body, do you poke it? Do you continue to poke it every 10 - 15 minutes throughout the day just to see wether it still hurts?

Yeah, me too. Like some weird sadist and masochist rolled into one.

Carrying the grief over Mums death, like a bruise.

I know its there and every so often it gets poked to see how raw it is.  Poke... yep still hurts.

I found some video of mum dancing on Facebook. My brain wanted to know weather I was strong enough to with stand this punch to the bruise, my heart wanted to hear her laugh. I am strong enough. I will continue to be strong enough.

Poke... yep still hurts.

For all those perhaps going through something similar... its now a bruise... thats progress. Take heart.

Judgy McJudgerson and Judginess of the Judgers

This literally just happened. I am writing it down now so the scar isn't burned to deeply into my psych.

So, this weekend is turning out to be a bit of a pisser. I am working a lot of it and today is the school fete. Which involves volunteering and baking and a DUNK TANK etc etc Ugh. Don't think badly of me. Its just not something I do well, but the things we do for our kids, hey?

So this morning, I have been icing, cleaning the kitchen putting on some washing and getting whined at for breakfast by my youngest daughter. The straw that broke this mummy camel's spine came in the form of one last whiney shout across the house "I'MMMMM HUUUUUNNNNGGGGRRRYYYYYY, wheres breakfast?????????".

It didn't go down to well. "Get your BUTT into the kitchen RIGHT NOW!". I won't bore you with the details but it involved the sayings "I am not your slave", "Things are going to change around here" and the classic "Are you arms painted on?".

After all the shoutiness, I hear a little wrap at the front door. Leah tells me "Its the lady who gives you those magazines".

AWWWW crap, the Jehovah Witness lady (from my earlier blog) and her two young daughters had just been witness to my Mummy tantrum in full volume and all its glory.

I could feel the "Parenting Judginess" through the brick walls and I know they heard the whole thing because from the looks on their faces when I came to the door, I am pretty sure they think I am possessed.

Its ok though, I am guessing this is karma for my "slightly" judgy earlier post. At least the Jehovahs
don't believe in Karma :P

What a bunch of whacky f** weirdos we are

I can't leave the house without making the bed, have to take my phone to poop (I think 100% of my blog readership is all of you on the loo?), can only sit on the right side of the bus and I have to have my asthma inhaler by my bedside even though I don't actually think I have asthma. Oh and I never eat the bottom part of a banana, have to have some sort of cover on me (even in the arm pit of humid summer nights) and I have to turn the radio off if I am trying to parallel park or if I am lost.

My eldest daughter Leah has to straighten things on shelves, not at home of course, but in the super market. She spends a lot of time straightening and correctly stocking at Coles.

One of my friends has to make the "woosh" sound (the one Microsoft used to make in the 90's) when she sends an email. This ensures it arrives quickly apparently.

Another of you has to put your right shoe on first, every time.

There is the friend who can't sleep if there is ANY water in the kitchen sink and another friend who has to check the bed for spiders every night before they can set toe inside it.

And then there is this bunch of whacks:
gets physically sick at the sight of a raw egg and won't allow different foods to touch each other.

Always has to use the last stall in the public toilets (furthest from the door),

Has to sleep in complete darkness and even covers the crack under the door,

and my absolute favourite crazy quirk, that I am pretty sure would make you money on the internet... Only cleans the house in heels, can't do it in flats.

Please share your quirky traits and be a loud and proud weirdo!