Dear Nanna R. As I cleaned our home this past week there were so many little reminders of you. My fun fruit bowl and other ornaments you made for me in ceramics needed dusting, I found cards with your writing on it and this photo just popped up in my Google Drive while I was doing some work. I don’t wish you had lived longer as your life was full and your body was worn out. We miss you and shed little tears of love when we talk about you. You really were a great Nanna x
As much as I was happy to never ever have another period. I have found yet another piss off factor when it comes to menapause.
So far I have been told to just accept I’m overweight, cos that shit happens. You can’t do much about hot flushes. This is not true, my acupuncture and Chinese medicine has that under control. You might remember me writing about that in Madly Menopausal Mum. I work really hard on daily meditation and mindfulness so as I am not a fucking screaming lunatic with the potential of becoming an axe murderer. Visits to a clinical psycologist also keeps me grounded.
But now I have been told I have high cholesterol. Like always, I have taken to google to find out what the fuck that means for me as the doctor hasn’t got time to explain that shit. The first thing that struck me is how all the images of menopausal women are of ladies much older than I. Not sexy rock star young chicks like myelf. The next thing that struck me was…
Few women know that there is a direct link between cholesterol and menopause.
This is life threatening stuff. Given I have family history of heart disease I wish someone had told me this a couple of years ago. You can Read more here.
As usual I’m trying to find the silver lining in this dark cloud. So here it is. I am going to live on water and lettuce leaves. The lettuce will make me skinny. I will then get buy new clothes as I threw all the others out when I was told to accept being chubby.
Just joking. Red wine, dark chocolate and small handfulls of nuts are also on the menu. I suppose I will survive to see my kids grow up. That is as long as I remember my mindfulness and don’t become that axe murderer.
I was having a coffee in bed, reading a book when BC6 came in for a cuddle and asked why I wasn’t using my mug he got me for Mothers Day.
Because it was dirty from me eating berries out of it last night (and my usual mug is almost twice the size).
Phew. Truth in the answer.
Being Mum in a Million is hard work, and a lot of thought went into my gifts, so I’m going to enjoy two cups every day out of this mug until he stops noticing I’m drinking out of it, I get used to it or it breaks.
Obviously I am mum #2.
I try Really hard to be mum #1, but nope, I told you so is definately on my play list.
Let’s recall one of these situations.
Me to GC8 who was then about 4 or 5.
Me: don’t jump on the couch
Jumps on couch
Me: I mean it, stop jumping on the couch.
Jumps on couch
Me: I’m trying to get some work done, will you PLEASE stop jumping on the couch?
Jumps on couch
Me: FFS will you stop jumping on the fucking couch?!?!!?
Jumps on couch
Couch cushion dislodges
Small girl takes a spectacular crash, arms and legs in all directions, smashes her lip on the way down
Me: Sucked in
Dear Husband: poor love, come on we’ll get you a washer and clean off that blood
DH Throws death look at me which armies should patent, he could kill many men with his death look.
At some point I supppose I should get off my arse and see if she’s ok.
Go to bathroom. Lots of blood. Discussion about whether it warrants medical attention. We decide due to many factors – after hours, living in rural area, nearest emergency being 50km away, I had wine in system and cannot drive, DH hates driving…bleeding subsides, it’s not that bad, she’ll be right.
DH: Would you like an icy pole?
GC: Yes please Dad (through snot and tears and red face)
GC still has very small scar on lip as a reminder that I need to work on my parenting skills.
The kids came home with their order forms for school photos last week.
Have you seen the price of these fuckers?
The cheapest option is to order a $26 group photo and if you have
three hundred twelve relatives who you would like to piss off impress by giving them pics of your offspring dressed in their finest school colours, then you are welcome to fork out $44 per child for the Premium Pack. But that’s not all! If you purchase one of the above packages you can also purchase an additional $15 gift pack including 3 bookmarks, 3 more photos, a door hanger, a calendar and, wait for it, 4 photo gift tags emblazoned with the face of the fruit of your loins.
But wait there’s more! As the parents of two school age
life suckers children, we can choose to opt in for a family photo. I have no idea what this costs, because, if we want to go down this path, we have to pop into the school office and grab a different order form.
The thing that really gets on my goat when ordering school photos (that are yet to be taken) is that I don’t have a clue what they will look like. Has the photographer captured the kindness in our daughter’s heart? Have they captured the twinkle in our son’s eyes? Is his shirt still clean after fruit break? If I pay another hours wages to get a pic of them together will they look like they like each other? Or will the photographer be so fried after dealing with 400 plus kids, that it comes home looking like they are throwing daggers at the camera?
Then there is the question of what we do with them once we get them home? I don’t have a wall or a shelf covered in family snaps, I should, but I’m too lazy, and if I did, they would be of fun and exciting adventures. So, I shove those school pics up in the top of the cupboard where they will slowly age until a time when the children leave home and I decide to
make let them store them in their own cupboard or a school reunion happens and they suddenly want to remember who that kid was they were friends with in grade 1.
Photographers, I know you are trying to make a living, and I’m guessing you are doing OK based on this formula. 400* children’s parents buy the group photo at only @$26. That is $10,400 before you deduct your costs and I hope give the school a donation for their fundraising. Good on you, I hope you love swimming in your private pool filled with the tears of
parents who have gone broke paying for school photos unicorns.
Looking for a pic for this post I found quite a few (hundred) photos of my kids wearing their school uniform performing a range of tasks either posing or just being themselves. It’s not like the old days when lots of people didn’t have a camera to take their own photos. In this digital age we can get decent quality pics for under $1.
The best system I have seen is when BC5 was at daycare/kinder. The photographer came in and took the photos, sent home proofs and we ordered what we wanted. I happily paid $9.50 per shot for three gorgeous pics of our kid and one group photo, and left the not so gorgeous ones for the photographer’s bin.
What do you think? Do you think the cost of school photos is over the top?
Have your opinion using this anonymous poll.
I was locking up tonight after doing RSA training. I had everything packed and grabbed my take home pile and, you guessed it, checked my phone. 5 minutes before was a missed call and message from Nanna.
Instead of going straight home I locked myself in and rang her back.
Best decision ever! We talked for 20 minutes about all sorts of stuff. My favourite topic of conversation being the two occasions Nanna got a bit tipsy.
The first story was back when it was 10 o’clock closing and they were at a Lounge bar for a fire brigade do. Before 10pm, as was the norm, everyone stockpiled their drinks. Nan had been drinking squash, but the friend who went to the bar got her gin squash, assuming this was what she’d been drinking all night. When Nan and Pa finally left at 2am she had finished all three stockpiled drinks, not tasting the gin. She was a little unsteady on her feet, as was Pa. They held each other up and made it home safely.
The second story was after golf. They’d won because of Nan (I hope I got this right Nan?) The team persuaded Nanna to have a sherry to celebrate. Before she knew it one of the ladies had grabbed Nan’s hand and pulled her up onto the tables as they were dancing the night away Nan looked over and saw <forgotten his first name> Plum looking over the bar. She’d been caught by a neighbour.
Unfortunately we also talked about grief and sadness. Last week Pa would have turned 90, my uncle has lost a best mate to cancer and one of my best friends lost her sister who had also battled the big C. Pa and her dad were first cousins. Life can be tough when the inevitable happens.
The older I get the more I cherish every single conversation I share with both of my grandmothers. I love that Nan never felt the need to drink to have a good time. She is fun and full of life with a cheeky sense of humour without it.
I wouldn’t even need to teach RSA if the world was full of Nan.
Look at this photo and you will see what most Aussies see, a game of country football. But what happened here in Yarrawonga on Saturday was a lot more than that here at our place.
The things we do for charity!
If you follow this link you will find the Dolphin Charity Football Game Facebook page. In short, the teams consist of generations of members of one family, the Runnalls, or the “Dolphins” against as many old buggers they can rope into playing “The Superstars”. The proceeds of the day go to the Yarrawonga Hospital Palliative Care Unit.
Until two days before the match we intended on going and supporting this great cause, but I had run into the main organiser in the street and he said, “Why didn’t I ask Fuzz to play?” Bloody good question young man, why not?
So I went home and told my hubby that he was to take his runners and a footy jumper down to the J.C. Lowe Oval for the match, not to worry too much, he would be only sitting on the bench. His initial reaction was immediate divorce. He instantly hated me for dobbing him in. He is 46 years old and has not played a game of football since 1993. Yep, half a lifetime ago.
I jibed him and told him he was a big sook, but in my heart I knew that he would love it! Every year as footy season approaches he tells me how he is going to make a comeback, he is at least going to train, or so he says. We have been together almost 13 years, and he has only ever talked about it.
He did it. He ran out onto that ground, some kgs overweight, and he played football. I was amazed when he set up a goal in the first quarter, he looked like he knew what he was doing, and of course in his mind he did know what he was doing. The bench, in this instant, was designed that nobody would have to spend much time on the ground, and it was in the third quarter he returned to the field.
Of course by now we were expecting greatness, and when the ball came near him again, he believed it too. He saw that ball and had it in his sights. He felt 21 (his words) and he knew exactly how to pick that bit of pigskin out of the air. As he made his move, his age and fitness caught up with him and twang, his hamstring was strung. From the sidelines we knew he was a goner as he limped off.
But the thing is he did it. Our kids have never seen him play anything except some backyard antics.
As I iced his legs and fetched his beer that night I told him proud I was. I meant it! He got of his arse and off the iPad long enough to have a great day out. His kids saw a man they had never met and we had something to laugh about.
A few beers later and he thanked me for “making” him do it. He admitted that he has wished to have a reason to run out on the field one more time. He felt freaking awesome and we had shared something we can laugh about for a long time.
Isn’t it amazing how a few beers and a shared experience can add a little spark to our world?
P.S. There was over $12,000 raised. A fantastic result for all those involved. Congratulations to the organisers.