SHOW ME THE MONEY!!!!

If you won lotto tomorrow... what would you do?

For the sake of the exercise lets say you win $5 million.

Would you become a "Patron" or "Spokesperson" or some other rich person title that no one is sure what the hell you actually do?

Travel? sure... but how? private jet? super launch? into space with Crazy Arsed Mr Branson? Hoverboard?

Here are my top 5...

1) House on the beach...not sure exactly where but Perth has the best beaches
2) A couple of years off to see more the world, 6 months was just not enough. South Africa, Canada, Hawaii, Bora Bora, Japan, New Zealand and then back to France
3) Personal trainer and chef because I would be an absolute lard arse in all this luxury
4) Family and friends. It feels good to give and to help....
5) 2 million to invest wisely and hopefully live off for the remainder of our very enjoyable lives

Sounds boring I know, but $5 mill in my hands would disappear like...well...my money, so I have to be conservative in my dreams or I am likely to end up blogging about the time I accidently spent $5 mill at Typo and Kikki K.

 In the mean time my budget stretches to luxury candles and that kind of smells like wealthy...

Got my shit together??????

So, what does it take to feel like you have your shit together?

Leaving the house with knickers that match your bra or  just leaving the house with knickers.........

Is it having your nails done? clean sheets on your bed? picking up your floordrobe so that all the dust bunnies are set free??

I had a day of forced organisation today. My grandmother has relocated back to Portugal. Today I transported a car full of 27 years worth of kitchen goods, jars, tupperware, cookware etc.

My pantry has never contained a labelled jar, my tupperware has always bred lids for no containers and my pots go where they fit, anytime, anywhere.

Not anymore, I have tupperware up the wazoo, labelled glass jars, I have cooked ahead meals for the week and made layered salads for my lunches, I even have a labelled jar of smoked paprika for christs sake.


I think this classifies as having my shit together... I just have to invite everyone to my kitchen to prove it...

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.

Drop bears and Meatballs

Recently, I read about the Swedish national phone number. Basically, anyone in the world can ring this one number and talk to a Swedish person and ask them questions about living in Sweden. I don't know how many meatball and  coffee table related questions there are, but I would like to ask them.

Its an interesting concept, one that wouldn't translate to Australia. It just wouldn't. We can't be trusted. "Don't be so harsh" you say? I got two words for you...Drop bear.

Imagine, every poor trusting person from Kentucky to Iceland would hear all about our Kangaroo stables and emu pulled carriages and most importantly about the Drop bears. I have to admit that I gleefully participate in the upholding



of this Australian Myth. We have the Common Drop bear and the more deadly Mammoth Drop bear which can reach 5m in height and even the special reflective and protective helmets that all Australians wear.

Come to think of it, maybe Ikea is the Drop bear of Sweden???

Are they selling us these awkwardly shaped, boxed pieces of flat pack furniture and laughing and laughing, all the while sitting in their solid, hand crafted wooden armchairs and just shaking their heads in disbelief??? What if they don't even eat meatballs???

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

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 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!

LATEST BEAUTY TREND: Haggard old gypsy woman... I am rocking it

I have no beauty routine. None.
I am sporadic and completely random in my "Maintenance".
The idea is a solid one, I grant you.
Regularly and routinely look after your skin, hair etc and not look like a haggard old Gypsy woman, cool. I get it, still don't do it. Occasionally, I will catch a passing glimpse of myself in the mirror, which will have me running for the concrete concealer in utter fear, but still, I am so low maintenance, it can't be counted as even trying.  

This is not me bragging.... I am literally rolling my eyes at myself.


My eyebrows are regularly successful in their plan to take over my face. One of my good friends recently bought a little home eyebrow waxing kit. She was very proud of the result, so lent it to me and encouraged me to give it a try. I think she may just have been sick of looking at the black caterpillars attached to my forehead or wanted a good laugh :)
It could have gone VERY badly, I was expecting to be completely eyebrow less or having to try and dial 000 using brail  because I managed to melt my own eyeballs. Its hard to blog about beauty mistakes when blinded, but I was picturing myself having a go anyway!

Sorry to disappoint guys but I actually did it, my eyebrows and pride are in tact, BUT it took me an hour of complete concentration and I had to put the kids into a TV coma.


Why am I sharing all this with you? I want to know how the hell you ladies do it? How do you look so good and together? When the hell do you do it all? Masks, scrubs, hair treatments, waxing, dyes, plucking, exfoliating, moisturizing and that all before the frigging make up?? Do you not sleep???

Even more, who has all this time and energy to make their own beauty shit? I know you exist, I've seen your posts and your pins all involving oatmeal, eggs, coconut oil and fresh herbs (which being on my current diet sounds better than what I had for breakfast).

How? for the love of  shiny skin how? how?

The weirdest of the weird...

Warning: This is weird and a little black. I apologise if I offend anyone, It's not my intention. It is at the heart of it, really quite funny and one of the many weird things we encounter in life. Its how we cope sometimes with loss of a most cherished love one, like my Mum. I have realised it's only weird and funny because its true xx



Have you ever just stopped and thought to yourself "Never in a million years did I ever think that I would end up doing...This , this is really, really weird".

I have a pretty high tolerance for weird, I do, but when I am sitting at my kitchen table with a spoon, snap lock bags, small boxes and my mums ashes, even I have to stop and wonder a bit.

It all started innocently enough, Mum requested that her ashes be scattered in a rose garden. Right, easy. Well no, firstly, there is heaps, they are really heavy. Secondly, lots of people want to be involved. Its ok. These people are all loved ones and were truly loved by Mum. Its just not what I expected. I had nightmares of a big cloud of dust enveloping picnic goers and romantic couples as they enjoyed a lovely day in the park with the rose garden, while we were saying another goodbye to Mum.

So we came up with the idea of everyone getting a small box to scatter for themselves, in their own time on a rose garden of their choosing. Lovely, in theory. Really weird in reality. Its a big responsibility, what if I spill some? Do I just vacuum it up and say a sorry to Mum? Also would she be pissed off to learn her ashes are in Woolworths brand snap lock bags?? and Reject shop gift boxes? Do I sticky tape them shut? We don't want a random accident involving little dust piles. What do I do with the left overs????

Its just really weird and something I never ever contemplated. Poor dad is with me on this too, we have been putting it off for quite a few weeks now. Mum has had pride of place on the kitchen bench in their home. The cylinder with her ashes even sports a small soup stain on the outside of it, which for Mum, is really, really fitting.

I know with all my heart that Mum wouldn't mind me sharing this story. She is,where ever she is, rolling with laughter. Mum always was the weirdest of us. I guess we are following a grand tradition.

Being an Adult is Stupid

Late last night I was thinking about the differences between being a Kid and being an Adult.

I came to the conclusion that the main non physical difference is the percentage of shit you don't want to do but have to do increases. The "Have - To's" just keep rolling in once you reach about 25 and grow exponentially until I don't know when.

Who spends their whole days off, their supposed "free time" checking off a list of "Have - Tos"? I know we call them errands and get a sense of accomplishment to have completed a full list, but did that mean spending 10 hours in your bloody car and another two in some sort of queue?

Or even worse than that, did you actually have some free time and spent it worrying about what you weren't doing in order to have this free time?

I watch my kids sometimes, they can spend a whole day doing what ever they please, interrupted only with requests for food. I am so happy they get to do that.
However, even their "Have - tos" list is growing. As school students and as family members, they have chores and homework and jobs to complete. They are learning every day about time limits and working within them. Adults in training. We as parents make them have the "Have - Tos".

Dont get me wrong, I want them to be contributing members of society, I want them to think of others and I want them to lead comfortable lives, so at some point they will need to work.
What I don't want for them is the stress and anxiety that comes from being the type of adult that forgets how to Kid. I want them to be safe in the knowledge that the "Want - Tos" are as equally important as the "Have - Tos".

I dont want this to be some kind of wanky "stop and smell the roses" post. But I think it might be....

Observations from the 72 Bus

Wear deodorant people! There was a guy with such a strong funk that I was seriously considering removing my earbuds and sticking them up my nose.

To the lady with the sensible shoes and white satin blouse, doing her eyeliner: How the. actual.Fuck. did you manage to not stab your eyeball on the end of that eyeliner pencil like a shish kebab? Its a talented lady who can apply perfect eyeliner and mascara in a moving bus....I salute you.

I think at bus driver school there is the following units "How to brake like the bus is on fire, EVERY SINGLE TIME or How to make all the passengers fall off their seats". I am surprised I don't have a permanent dent on my forehead from the seat in front.

Also catching the bus makes me feel old. The bus was packed this morning. I thought to myself :Oh, you had better stand up for an old person"........ I was the fucking oldest person on the bus.... the whole way!!!!

Dave hurry up and fix my scooter.... I am going bus crazy.

Bitch Slap by Email

Yesterday, I missed Brianna, my youngest daughter, receiving an award at assembly. The school didn't have my correct phone number, and so I missed the message that it was happening.

Rather than accept the fact that I had stuffed up by forgetting to give the school my new number, I sent an email, a really shitty email.

You know the type I mean, where you don't even take a breath the whole time and you hit send before your brain even knows what the hell is going on. I laid the guilt trip on pretty thick too.

I sent it to the Principal and anyone else I could find in the school address book.

It must have been a doozy of an email because at 10pm last night I get a response from the Principal. Not only is she very sorry, she offered to re-present the certificate at the next assembly.

So, basically, my email had the power to essentially turn back time. Oops ....

At this stage, I had well an truly calmed down. Brianna was super chuffed with herself and as long as her Sister saw her (which she did) she didn't really give a stuff whether I was there or not.

So, I had  to draft and send the "back-peddle, I am very sorry, eating humble pie" email back. I may have also booked a meeting with the Teacher and the Principal, which I will now have to either cancel or explain.... gees, over react much????

Let me be a lesson, breathe before you send people, breathe before you send!

Know Your Neighbours?

I'm all for a quick "hello, hows it going?" with my neighbours, but I have to be honest. I don't really want to take it any further than that.

That makes me a shitty neighbour,  But I like my home time, quiet time, walking around in my crappy t'shirt and wine time. You guys know this. To do these crazy "me time" things requires a little privacy.

Im also pritty sure that they have heard me when I've lost my shit and yelled at the girls, so they may treat me like a wild bear and avoid me outright anywway.

They are a mixed bag. Our neighbourhood is a mixed bag.

One of our neighbours is a sweet old 90 year old lady, who I do like to chat with.

A few houses down we have the local druggie house. In the 7 years we have lived in our house, we have had about a dozen drunken incidents. One time a guy ran down the street brandishing a machete, another time a young woman jumped our fence to avoid her raging boyfriend. Another time we have had people swearing at us through our front door becuse we wouldnt call them a taxi. We know when they have gone to jail because it gets really peacefull.

One Christmas, a neighbour arrived on our doorstep. Swaying and slurring, she explained that she had made us cookies. I reluctantly let her in. While she was in the hallway, she tried to toungue kiss Dave, my husband. He no longer does yard work shirtless :)

Funnily enough, I think that neighbour
enjoys her crappy t'shirt and wine time too.

We avoid eye contact when taking out our bins.....

Put down the Heavy load

Guilt, it's every where. 

Anything can make you feel bad. 

Put down the heavy load. 

The extra 15 minutes sleep in, the cupcake for breakfast, the secret new shoes. 

These are nothing. Don't feel bad. 

The left behind library books, the crappy school lunch with a shriveled carrot and dry sandwich, the third night of noodles in a row, the un-ironed everything.

These are nothing. Don't feel bad.

The forgotten gym membership, the extra wine, the sticky floors and dust bunny pets. 

The late nights, the missed appointment, the not done work. 

These are nothing. Don't feel bad. 

The could I have done more, could I have helped more? Could I be more, should I change? 

This is something but still nothing. Don't feel bad 

Put down the heavy load 

Why your Bucket list should become your Fuck it list.

I have always had a bit of an issue with goal setting. I hated the idea of planning out my days and weeks for years at a time in order to reach certain goals even life (fun) goals, not just career goals.

I understand the concept, I also understand that it is formula for success that works. I get that.
What I have a problem with is the single mindedness of it. That while you are tirelessly striving towards the goal ahead, what opportunities in the left - field have you missed? The best things I have ever done in my life have actually come as the result of little or no planning and had a momentum of there own. I love the fact that these great things then led to the next unexpected great thing.

There is NO WAY I could have planned out the last ten years on paper, even the idea of it. I would never, ever have had the mental forethought to see what I have done or where I have been or what I have had to do. My true capabilities lie in the unknown and untested. I like the idea that in a years time, I'm not sure what I'll be doing.

Ah, but are you thinking, this is why you aren't rich Caroline? This is why you don't have a career?

Possibly, but I love the list of things I have done, failures and success's. I love the diversity of my experience. It won't make me rich, but then again, who knows.

Currently I am enjoying being able to completely enjoy my free time. In my previous incarnation as a real estate agent, I could never feel completely at ease. I always felt "on" or like I should be doing more. It is the sort of industry that if you aren't a million dollar success story, you are failure, with little to no in-between.

I realise a "bucket list" is not necessarily career or goal oriented. It can be about life experiences, what I am trying to explain is that the best life experiences just happen and you can't plan for it or wish for it because you have no idea what it is yet. I believe the saying about being careful what you wish for, because what you think you want versus what you actually get can be very different things.

Let life lead you a little. The more you have to force the situation and bend life to fit with your detailed goal list, the more life will fight back. Have you ever been trying very hard to get somewhere or do something and everything in life is just against you? Stop, stop trying, say fuck it. Something else will happen, I promise and it will be what life was trying to get you to see, over in left field and it might just be the best thing that you ever do.

I am a freezer, what are you?

I'm probably not the one you want standing next to you in an emergency. I'm just telling you, my friends, just so your standards are suitably low if we ever get into trouble.

I am a freezer. I know this because the couple of times where I have felt in serious danger, one time in a close call on the road and a few times where I have had random scary people approach me on the street, adrenaline locks my knees solid and my arms to my side.

I have never been in a situation of life or death, or where my kids are in that kind of danger. I am really, really thankful for this, but it means I have no idea of what I would do (other than freeze into a standing coma.... so helpful).

I know a  special lady. This amazing person knows , that if she needs to, she can whoop complete arse. She has recounted a couple of experiences she has had. She once witnessed a person be hit by a car, and without hesitation, helped and protected the injured person until help arrived. Another time, a bag snatcher, attempted to steal her hand bag, with her left hand she clocked him one in jaw, so hard he nearly bit off his own tongue... and she kept her bag! She also won an altercation between her and a group of youths who were intimidating people in the city. Grown men looked on, scared , while she taught them a lesson.
How cool is it to have that knowledge, that in an emergency, you can whack on your cape and all of a sudden you are a superhero.

Obviously I hope that none of us need to know how we react in danger. I want you all safe and sound. But there is a part of me that wishes I was a super hero, not a freezer.

No wifi and no data makes Caroline go something, something.....

                                  

 CRAZY!!!!





Dave and I have had no wi-fi at home for about a fortnight. Because of this we have chewed through 12GB of data on our phones and devices, I think we absorb it through our pores or something.
Its not only me. The kids love to play minecraft and have a plethora of apps and games. Before you frown with judgyness, at least half of them are educational. But the usage at home is mainly me. I like to facebook (hadn't noticed?), I like to blog (shock horror), I like to Pinterest, I like to research, I like to look for books and images for inspiration, basically I like to have the internet at the click of my fingers. It is no longer just a  convenience, it is now a complete reliance on technology. Like when you have a black out, and you know you have no lights, but every time you change rooms, you flick the switch anyway. 
The internet is now so deeply ingrained in me that to be without it is like a black out. There is only so much crochet and food network this old lady can handle before she wants to google something vitally important like where you can buy Chipotle Chilli in Perth, or search through what is on sale at Ikea. 
I am tech dependent, and I don't care.
 I get it. There is plenty of advice out there about disconnecting, about the dangers of ignoring society and real life and your kids while being in cyber space. You know where I read about them?
Yep, online, lounging back in bed, trying to stop my phone from bouncing off my forehead when I start to fall asleep.
 

Do you even lift??

Pretty much my whole body is a collection of muscles that need work. Some more than others. So, Ive decided to start on one area in particular.

It is possible to work and tone these muscles using weights.

"So what?"you say? ... No this blog is not turning into a fit bunnies account of her own arse in various stages of roundness. Its worse.

I am talking about my pelvic floor. 
For the most part, I am a proud owner of my girlie parts and its not a big deal, really, until I decide I need to jump, skip or go for a jog.

For all the male readers that I may have somehow attracted to my blog and who have now realised that I am talking about "girlie bits", it's ok, It's funny.

So, one late night, I read an article about "that kind" of weight lifting to help train and tone those muscles.

Obviously, you can't just attach your nearest dumb bell on a string a walk around. So I order the beginners kit, sneakily, and hope that Dave doesn't ask what the extra $$ on the credit card were.

He did. I watched as the potential, hopeful gleam in his eye turn into absolute, belly clutching, roll on the floor laughter. Followed by cheeky questions about "How buff is it going to get?" and future texts asking if "I even lift?".

So, its early days. I can't exactly hop on the scales to track progress. But its the easiest work out Ive ever had to do and gives a whole new meaning to working out.


I'm blushing and already wondering if I will have the guts to publish this... If you ever actually read this particular post, than cheers to you in partaking in my overshare.

And heres to "Buff Vags" everywhere.

P.S If you're a little nuts like me and in the same boat, contact me and I can let you know the brand. 

We are screwed... Don't fight it, Embrace it

I am sitting on the bus, grappling with a stupid bout of Mothers guilt. As has become routine, I now drop the girls near school and I walk to my bus stop, leaving them to fend off the dangerous and evil of the world for a full 20 metres before they enter school grounds. Shock horror, how could I be so cruel. To add insult to injury, they also were in charge of placing their own canteen orders today, which was met with "But MUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMM, I don't know how to spell sushi???". That's OK, worse comes to worse they might end up with a meal beginning with "S".... so you know, Winning! 
So, while I am having day mares of my children sitting at the school gates crying because I left them without the correct spelling of their gourmet Japanese canteen lunch, I get a phone call.


"I just need to vent, seriously just let me get this out and then I'll be OK"

followed by

"F*n kids! seriously, how frigging hard is it???? I swear to god, I am ready to...."

Now I won't go into the details, we have ALL been there. What ever threat follows the "I swear to god, I'm ready to....." doesn't read well in print, and you're my friends, I don't want anyone arrested. 

No matter what age your kids are, or what type of parent you think you are or what type of kids you think you have, you're screwed anyway. Seriously, we are all screwed. Now is the time to accept that and go about your day. I mean this in the nicest possible way, let me explain.

When your baby is tiny and shiny and new, you know you know nothing. You make a few mistakes, you stupidly listen to some woman in your Mothers group who claimed to have had a pain free natural birth while sipping herbal tea in a spa bath and that her daughter smelled like Patchouli after coming out of her Vag and that parenting is soooooooo easy...., so you feel like a failure.

Move forward a few years and you've got screaming toddlers, who have just spent 45 minutes having a tantrum because you cut the sandwich into triangles, instead of squares and used the blue plate!! Or they wake you up four times a night because their blankets have moved and their sock came off. While you sit and cry and pick weetbix out of your cleavage, you wonder "what the hell am I doing ???"

Move forward a few more years, they are at school, they are learning! Yay, they can express their emotions and you can almost have a rational conversation. Then you over hear them having a conversation about another child or worse hear some children having a conversation about your child. "Is my child a bitch??? It sure sounds like it? Where are the manners and the sharing that we spent 4 years drumming into them?" or "Is my child making friends?, are they being bullied? why are they socially awkward??? Oh no Ive raised a cat lady..." 
Like I said screwed....

You can't win, you have to try though, that's our job. To be the bad guy, to be the boring one, to be the soother, the dictator, the lover, the fighter and ultimately in a lot of cases, the loser. They will fail, they will probably be a bitch at some point, they will probably be bullied, they will still have tantrums, but as adults they will call it stress, but they will have their Mums and one day.... long into the future, they will thank you for it, and then ask you to babysit the grand kids.





To my friend who was having a hard day.... don't fight it, there is always wine xxx

Same, same but different.

I have never questioned my decisions and myself more than in the last three weeks.
Everything I do or think of doing is scrutinised tortuously by my brain in an attempt to work out if i'm ok or if i'm, at least, understanding why I may not be ok.

Under normal circumstances the core belief that I subconsciously carry in my gut is i'm ok, things are good and all is ok. It might not be in the moment, but the foundations of my life are good.

Let me just clarify, I have a wonderful Father, who is also dealing with his own grief of losing a wife of 36 years, an amazing Husband, who loved my mother like his own, Two children, who are strong and a joy to be around but are also dealing, in their own way, with the loss of their beloved VoVo and Friends with their own lives, children and challenges who have volunteered their time or their ears to help me. I am not alone, I am not even unusual. Every face that passes through my work or that I see on the bus has been or will be floored by grief at some point in their lives. Do they handle things like I do? Do they want to share their thoughts and memories or do they retreat to deal in complete privacy?

I get sad at night, i'll sneak away from the action of the household and lie down. I have a chewbacca wookie teddy bear, that Dave and the girls gave me for my birthday in December. Mum was already in hospital and really sick. I have been hugging this thing every night, for about two months. This isn't healthy, I don't think, but it helps.

I didn't want to write this blog yesterday or last night, I am struggling a little to do it now. I can't get the flow, I am tired, I don't want to seem like I am trying to make my grief the spotlight. But I think this is good for me. I am a sharer and never have I written like this in my life. I have a slew of journals that have one entry on the shiny first page and were never touched again.

In a conversation with Dad yesterday, I said "The experience of Mum passing and the memories I have are now more like a ball or a sphere, in the first few days, the ball was shoved up right in front of my eyes, it was the colour red and it was all I could see, so the ball seemed as big as the world, now its a bit further away, I can hold the ball in my hand at arms length and turn it a little, look at different angles, sometimes, without my heart exploding in my chest". 
I think that is a healthy progression, but is it too soon?

But, life goes on, right? The clocks don't stop, the cracks I feel in my own heart aren't showing on the pavement outside. There is nothing new here. 
From now on, its same, same but different.