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!

Madly Menopausal Mum

Fuck you Menopause. Two years of being an arsehole to my family and friends and  I can finally give you the finger. All of those sleepless nights and hot flushes have finally come to an end. No, I haven’t finished, but I have that shit under control.

Thanks to the wonders of ancient medicine.  Two rounds of acupuncture and some Chinese herbal capsules and I am sleeping.

Sleeping = not such a bitch. My kids no longer see me as this all the time.mean-face

 

Worst thing is as an older mum, like lots of parents these days, I have little people at home who stress the crap out of me on a good day, without throwing in some hormone imbalance and general nastiness. They have copped the worst of me, let the times change for their sake. If it was the old days, I would be entertaining my grandchildren and not permanently caring for two primary schoolers who should have a young, cool, hot mum.

To any other women out there who are wondering why they have become short fused, prickly,  sweaty bitches. Get your hormones checked and when you’re told there’s not much you can do about it, get yourself some alternative therapy. One concern was me getting pregnant which would involve sex. I have been such a cow my husband wont even look at me, let alone throw me over and give me one.

My newfound niceness means I might spend some quality time with our children and perhaps fit a few minutes of parent sex in now and then.

 

Let it Go

Sometimes we find ourselves grieving but the person still walks the earth. It could be an ex lover, a friend or a family member. 

I have felt this grief. Something happened. Something I have no control over. I can’t change the past. I can’t change the decisions made. I can’t change the outcomes. I don’t own a Dolorian for time travel. The pain I feel in my heart is strong. That tearing your heart into pieces feeling.

At times it is so intense I want to spew. At times I am so angry I lash out at other loved ones (sorry dear, kind people). When talking about this my blood boils. I consume too much alcohol thinking about it. I shout. I swear. I have let it effect me. 

The time has come. I must let it go. I accept we can never be the same. I accept the things I cannot change. 

But I will never stop remembering the good times, because they were good and there have been many. You have changed our future, but you can never take our past away.

Memories cannot be erased. Time can change things but we cannot change the things which happen over time.

I release myself. I am free.




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.

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!