Category Archives: Parenting

Back to School Routine. The bad, the good and the ugly.

stay-at-home-mumThis year I’ve been a stay at home mum for the entire summer break. We have gone to bed late, got out of bed late and eaten whenever we were hungry. Even though we have had an awesome summer, I was very excited yesterday to drop my kids at school for their first day in 2017.

GC8 is beginning grade 3 and BC5 is beginning grade 1. They were both a little concerned the night before about where they had to line up in the morning but both of them did as they should ate breaky,  left me at the gate with a kiss and a wave and went about their day.

I read a lot of comments on social media about how people hate school lunches and routine. I don’t hate either. I kind of try not to be a hater. I thought we had nailed that first day, and we were going to slip back into routine as naturally as a fish swims in the water.

But, parenting wouldn’t be parenting without a couple of fails…

  1. I put butter in CG8’s sandwich. Did I know I wasn’t supposed to? No, nope, narda, not at all. I copped some eye rolling about how dumb that was after school.
  2. I wouldn’t let her take a pencil case the first day, waiting to see what the teacher required. WELL….pencil cases are allowed, we don’t have shared cups of pencils any more, I’m in grade 3 you know.
  3. I hadn’t ironed the new school uniform and made her wear last years. She got it dirty. I swear she just got it dirty to spite me and make me iron the other one (I try not to hate, but I hate ironing).

But it wasn’t all bad. BC5 had a brilliant day. He has been running his own competition over the holidays called Child of the Day. Each evening I have to pronounce which one of them has been a better kid. He is still trying for that so…

  1. He ate every bit of his lunch, and loves butter, and I can do no wrong.
  2. He has shared pencils, just like last year, and it will all be good.
  3. He also came home dirty, but as he is a Boy Child, I am quite used to only getting one wear out of his t-shirt.

This morning is day 2 and we are back into routine.

  1. The children are not listening and wont eat their fucking (cooked) breakfast.
  2. The dress wasn’t ironed last night because the ironing fairies forgot to come as they were drinking red wine and eating gourmet dinner.
  3. I nearly put butter in the cucumber sandwich…again!
  4. When told to get dressed while I iron the stupid dress, they are busy looking for a particular Pokemon rubber off a pencil that wasn’t packed in the pencil case last night. It has to match the pencil, it can’t just be any kind. They are hanging out naked when I emerge with ironed dress.
  5. I start screaming for them to forget the fucking pencil, put on shoes, brush teeth and get in the fucking car in order to alert the neighbours that everything is back to normal.
  6. We almost forget drink bottles as they were getting filled when the dress crisis occurred, and I haven’t screwed on lids yet.
  7. As we drive to school GC8 tells me she hates me and  I respond in kind.

Isn’t it wonderful to know that we have our routine down pat after only two days?

Are You Like a Queen?

A peaceful afternoon on the couch.

Thanks to one of my Queens I have just put down the hilariously funny book Like a Queen written by Constance Hall. Thank you Sister for the loan, you know who you are.

Reading Constance’s journey of motherhood, sisterhood, wifehood and very relatable anxiety has made me laugh and cry out loud. I have to admit something.

I am writing to confess.

I have not been a good Queen.

I judged someone when I wrote Who’s Livin’ in the 70s just two weeks ago. I even wrote these words, ‘Now I am all about being a queen and preserving the sisterhood by not judging, but sorry, in this case I cannot help it.’  I admit it. I judged.

I began that post beginning with the words Judgement Warning! I got the most hits ever for one of my blogs. I smashed my previous stats, and it was making me feel good. I had more than double the views of my next most popular post, and I even began to think it might even go viral as I was getting hits world wide.

My inflated ego was quickly popped when one of the most respected sisters pointed out to me that I had been a bit mean in judging #ladywhosmokesincarwithkidwhileeating. She wanted to know when my halo had suddenly straightened and I had become perfect.

Rest assured my halo is still sideways and my angel wings are a little ruffled.

Thus said, it resonated with me that #queensunite is a bloody good idea. Not only will we be able to share our stories, but our kings might also enjoy a laugh or get a glimpse as to WTF goes though our heads.

So get your judgement caps off sisters, and put your sharing boots on.

Let’s love and support one another to be the best we can x

 

All Mums are Arseholes

I’ve just published Madly Menopausal Mum and had a bit of a parent brag at how I’m not such a bitch now that I’m getting some sleep. 

Then this happens. BoyChild wishes to spend $6 on fucking waste of money in app purchases and I said no. Money doesn’t grow on trees dude and I don’t care if it’s yours, you’ll regret it when you want to buy something awesome like Lego!

He pisses off to his room and locks the door. I politely knock and ask to chat about it (read: bang on door and say let’s talk!). No, you are so mean. I hate you. I don’t want to spend my money on something else, this is all I want…I notice we need a new roll of toilet paper and go and get one while he’s telling me off…eventually he smells the bacon and gingerly exits bedroom due to hunger.

Proud of my effort today. Should get about one hours peace as he inherited stubbornness from yours truly.

When they hate me most I am doing my best parenting!

Boobs Out Ladies- Let’s get some pics!

Always look after your boobs ladies.

Always look after your boobs ladies.

It’s that time of the year when I get a lot of messages through Facebook asking all of our female friends to post a symbol or word  [the theme seems to change every year, and I wont give this year’s away] on our Facebook wall to remember it is the week of breast cancer prevention. Sorry ladies, I haven’t done that yet, but…

…today  I have been for my regular mammogram and ultrasound. I was astonished when I realised that I have been doing this for a long time. Since 1996. This being said, I am pretty relaxed about it.

So today, I’m having my boob fed into the machine, the technician asks me to face the corner, relax my shoulder, hold this handle, look here, bend your knee, now hold still…and then I started to piss myself laughing (no, not literally). I am standing there with my tit in the sandwich press, envisioning myself a model in a photo shoot. Technically I am. I’m getting those photos to prove I still haven’t been slapped with the genetic C stick.

We also conversed about random stuff. How in 1996 I was sporting an A cup and how difficult those little titties can be to get in the sandwich press. How men need mammograms too, and how they can be a challenge.

I have to say, lightening the mood made it easier for me and easier for her. After my outburst of laughter we got about our business and got the job done.

On a serious note. Ladies, check your titties. Men, check your titties. Partners of Ladies and Men, check each other’s titties. If in doubt about any weird bits in titties, get another person to check it them out, preferably a professional, but feel free to ask others to feel your titties and give an opinion.

 

 

An Outfit for Every Occassion

Fun in the SunI laughed my arse off when Miss 8 asked her father for a wrestle in the backyard. Not because she asked, nope, this is a very regular occurrence at our place. I laughed because he told her to go and put her wrestling gear on.

“What wrestling gear?” I asked, “is it because she has a skirt on?” At this point I am thinking shit like how weird, what a prude not to let her wrestle in a skirt or in her undies if that takes her fancy, you prick for contributing to the washing pile without contributing to the actual act of doing the washing. It’s too fucking hot for clothes…

His reply “No, nothing to do with a skirt, just delays it for another 5 minutes”.

Most probably had to make sure his allies were all in the right place before he could leave his Game of War for the 15 minutes that he will hold their attention. Gotta get the work/life/app balance right after all.

The Weir Bridge between Yarrawonga and Mulwala at capacity in October 2016

Who’s Livin’ in the 70s?

Judgement warning!

We live in a fantastic tourist destination called Yarrawonga. Together with it’s twin town Mulwala our population swells at Christmas and Easter and every other long weekend Australia has to offer. When the town is full we locals are required to deal with traffic. We have two sets of traffic lights in town. One to allow pedestrians to cross the road in the main street, the other to regulate a single carriageway over our weir bridge.

The Weir Bridge between Yarrawonga and Mulwala at capacity in October 2016

The Weir Bridge between Yarrawonga and Mulwala at capacity in October 2016

It means we have lots of time to watch people driving past while the whole main street is almost at a standstill. I usually shop early or late to avoid this, but not this time.

So, here I am, sitting in traffic. I notice a lady in her car smoking with her window down. I notice because I am still a little bit envious of people who can still smoke in their cars, in fact I am envious of people who smoke (old habits die hard). Then I notice a dog jumping around in the back seat. BUT then I notice a girl in the  front seat. She can’t be much older than my daughter (8), and she is eating some sort of take away food.

Fucking Hell Lady!! What are you thinking? Is that your kid you are slowly killing? If I asked you to slowly poison your dog, would you participate in the experiment? Do you think it is 1979 when my parents would simultaneously start the ignition and light a fag before we drove anywhere?

It has been illegal to smoke with a minor in the car with a minor since 2010,. It is also very bad manners to smoke while someone is eating. Even when I was not ashamed to smoke in public I would never smoke in the presence of anyone who was eating, let alone my kid who relies on me to keep them safe and preserve their life.

Now I am all about being a queen and preserving the sisterhood by not judging, but sorry, in this case I cannot help it.

Not good enough Queeny, not good enough!

 

I Choose to Lose.

For many years I have let New Years Eve come and go without the resolutions. Why? Drunk people make stupid choices.

But as 2015 came around I decided that I should become a non smoker. It kind of worked. I am not perfect, and wont pretend I have not cheated. But it backfired on me and I gained a kilo a month shoving other things in my gob instead of the fags and before your dirty mind turns to the gutter, I would have been better off doing what you are thinking and my hubby would be super happy.

The mirror reflection is the truth.

The mirror reflection is the truth.

Now it is 2016, 8 days in. I have chosen to become even more healthy and shed those nasty kilos the hypnotist toldme I would not put on (liar, liar pants on fire).

I hear all the talk about fat shaming and embracing your body and I dig what you are all saying.

I don’t hate my body. I am a sexy hot lady. It would be awesome if the mirror and photos reflected this image.

There are 5 things I am struggling with.

1-My thighs rub together. Not the way that they did when I wore cords in the eighties, groovily swooshing out the sound of my footsteps. Those fuckers are so fat they stick together on a hot day and almost trip me over.

2-I struggle to wipe my own arse. Thank the heavens I do yoga so I can stretch and reach and get that job done.yoga

3-My boobs are trying to escape from my shirts. I mean seriously. Getting the girls out is nothing new to me, but I used to have to undo the buttons for them, now they seem to have found a secret tunnel to freedom.

4-I cant see under my belly. My 7 year old daughter is now in charge of telling me when I have stray hair that needs to go.

5-They actually told me I am a bit fat!!! I have my kids very well trained. If I say something like “silly old mum” they instantly tell me “You’re not old Mum”. They used to follow it up with “You’re not fat”, but more recently I got a sheepish sideways head tilt, with “You’re a little bit fat”. Kids don’t worry about hurting feelings. What they say is true.

I am still deciding on the best plan of attack as to how I am going to get rid of the blubber. I have considered stapling my lips together, developing a drug addiction or returning to the hospitality industry (for those who don’t know, in hospitality exercise is constant and the sight of food becomes repulsive at times).

For now I think I will take the easy way out and try auto-suggestion. “I think I am fit and thinner, therefore I am”. When the kids go back to school I will get tougher on myself. I promise. Did you hear that me? Yeah right, what’s for lunch?