Monday, April 30, 2012
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Love your Mum
My beautiful longstanding hilarious and very bossy* friend is going through hell today. She is watching her Mum die. Here are her words.
http://mooneysblog.wordpress.com/
I read them and felt her sadness. And I felt terribly lucky. My Mum (also Nonna) is here with us at the moment. Waking up every morning and making craft with our girl, bouncing the fat baby and almost breaking her back in the process, baking me the world's hardest birthday cake and laughing along with us and the days pass in compound land. Only last night we were crying together about the death of her parents.
Mums are awesome. Becoming one helps this realisation along very well! It helps you understand your own Mum a lot more, and send some thanks her way for everything. It might be a few decades pass the point of relevance, but because she is your Mum, she will be grateful anyway.
Jess, big hugs to your Mum.
Your kids are super lucky to have you as theirs.
*She is not that bossy.
http://mooneysblog.wordpress.com/
I read them and felt her sadness. And I felt terribly lucky. My Mum (also Nonna) is here with us at the moment. Waking up every morning and making craft with our girl, bouncing the fat baby and almost breaking her back in the process, baking me the world's hardest birthday cake and laughing along with us and the days pass in compound land. Only last night we were crying together about the death of her parents.
Mums are awesome. Becoming one helps this realisation along very well! It helps you understand your own Mum a lot more, and send some thanks her way for everything. It might be a few decades pass the point of relevance, but because she is your Mum, she will be grateful anyway.
Jess, big hugs to your Mum.
Your kids are super lucky to have you as theirs.
*She is not that bossy.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
An honest moment of reflection.
Not that I have all that much time for pre-occupation, but I'm looking at these kids on American Idol, and I am thinking of the wonder of the STYLIST. Really.
The girls are kind of starting to look like Jenny from the Block, and the boys are edging closer and closer to the wackiness of Steve Tyler. Just one quick look at the audition tapes tells us that these are normal looking dudes, all of them.
And now it's all cascading hair, statement accessories, well-fitting suits and strutting in heels like it was always this way. One girl even had a Beyonce moment with orange chiffon, bronzer and a well-placed fan in front of her blonde locks. Lucky her!
What am I actually saying here?
I want a goddamned stylist! I want to be pimped and preened every goddamned day for no reason whatsoever. Anyone can look good if only they had the team at work for them.
So unfair.
Why am I even thinking about this? Perhaps it is the dreaded 36 around the next corner. I'm sure I could style away the ageing process, if only I had the resources at my disposal.
Maybe I'll get some hair extensions, fake eyelashes and spanx, cobble them together in un-expert fashion, and sashay down the stairs to the horror of my family next week. They won't know me out of my leggings and sports bra! Obviously this 'simple' at-home makeover will be a revelation for life and love.
Yes, that's what I'll do. Spend more time on learning to apply false eyelashes in the home, and less time on actual life. Must redress the imbalance!
The girls are kind of starting to look like Jenny from the Block, and the boys are edging closer and closer to the wackiness of Steve Tyler. Just one quick look at the audition tapes tells us that these are normal looking dudes, all of them.
And now it's all cascading hair, statement accessories, well-fitting suits and strutting in heels like it was always this way. One girl even had a Beyonce moment with orange chiffon, bronzer and a well-placed fan in front of her blonde locks. Lucky her!
What am I actually saying here?
I want a goddamned stylist! I want to be pimped and preened every goddamned day for no reason whatsoever. Anyone can look good if only they had the team at work for them.
So unfair.
Why am I even thinking about this? Perhaps it is the dreaded 36 around the next corner. I'm sure I could style away the ageing process, if only I had the resources at my disposal.
Maybe I'll get some hair extensions, fake eyelashes and spanx, cobble them together in un-expert fashion, and sashay down the stairs to the horror of my family next week. They won't know me out of my leggings and sports bra! Obviously this 'simple' at-home makeover will be a revelation for life and love.
Yes, that's what I'll do. Spend more time on learning to apply false eyelashes in the home, and less time on actual life. Must redress the imbalance!
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Pass the exit pass, please.
There are usually a few things I begin to notice about myself as I approach my limit of compound living. I've just done some quick maths and worked out I am 5 weeks over my due date for a sanity break. This means I cannot be held accountable anymore. What are the signs you ask? Well, they can often be found to be most prevalent when I am behind the wheel.
Like all good, alert expat mother/spouse types, when I drive I am aware of my surroundings and constantly on the lookout for the dreaded car-jacker (while singing happily to Pacific tunes on the local radio). In so doing, I ready myself for the unexpected and run through in my mind how I would respond. Generally, if I am undertaking this exercise within 1-2 weeks of returning from a nice long overseas break, my response is generally one of acceptance, knowing that this is a reality of the city I have chosen to make my home, and I readily give up the car and walk away, calmly radioing into base. If however, I undertake this exercise after 11 weeks of impoundment, well. My foot hits the floor and I run the bastards over. In fact, I found myself preparing to do that only hours ago ... as it happens the nice men were just in the middle of the road having a conversation and did not appear to want to prevent my vehicle from passing. But yes - I am at the 'just run them over' stage.
Better leave soon.
Another sign; driving through the busiest intersection in the city at the busiest time of the day when the traffic lights were out, occasionally closing my eyes and hoping for the best. I fully expected to be in an accident. The sign of my impending insanity - was that I did it anyway. What can I say? I needed some fresh milk. That was last week.
And then there is the local supermarket. My life-source since the freeway has closed, it has become my Myer, my David Jones food court, an artisan bakery, a whole foods market, and organic butcher, and the daily social outing for my two year old. Quite frankly, that's a lot to ask from SVS Harbourside, and it is understandable that the little supermarket is not often up to the job. I'm trying to stay positive, really. The other day, desperate for a pick-me-up, I walked the isles of the new pharmacy hoping to find a fun thing to buy. I bought Neurofen. So, putting it all onto SVS, I walked in, inhaled the air and paced the isles trying to find a treat. What did I come up with? 250ml of cream. What a great treat!
I am at the stage now where I go in to buy something for dinner and come out with laundry powder. I cannot eat another local zucchini and have turned largely vegetarian in response to the meat fridge. I numbly put dust covered, out of date items in my trolley and passively pay four times the usual cost for them. I have also given up restricting what my small one puts in the trolley, allowing her to roam free and get whatever she wants. Yesterday we came home with a broom, a mop head, one single newborn nappy, and four packets of the same bread roll, when in fact what we needed was phone credit. Fine with me.
Luckily for us, we have tickets to ride .... to Melbourne that is. The timing couldn't be better. Our girl is asking to go to cafes and keeps reminding me that she needs to ride on a blue boat. I have no idea where this notion has come from, but assume we can meet all these needs in the city of cafes, shops and good living. Oh hooray! Hello mini laneway bars, adoring grandparents and mild weather. Hello Easter sales and a reason to bother getting dressed every day. Hello public transport, roads and infrastructure, extensive menus and wine lists, and frivolity.
And goodbye .... to potholes, road closures and use-by dates that are in the past, as opposed to the future. I shall go away, just long enough to miss you so that I may return fresh as daisy, ready to navigate the isles of my local supermarket with good humour and a readiness to feed the family on Black and Gold 'Clinkers' for a week or two.
Like all good, alert expat mother/spouse types, when I drive I am aware of my surroundings and constantly on the lookout for the dreaded car-jacker (while singing happily to Pacific tunes on the local radio). In so doing, I ready myself for the unexpected and run through in my mind how I would respond. Generally, if I am undertaking this exercise within 1-2 weeks of returning from a nice long overseas break, my response is generally one of acceptance, knowing that this is a reality of the city I have chosen to make my home, and I readily give up the car and walk away, calmly radioing into base. If however, I undertake this exercise after 11 weeks of impoundment, well. My foot hits the floor and I run the bastards over. In fact, I found myself preparing to do that only hours ago ... as it happens the nice men were just in the middle of the road having a conversation and did not appear to want to prevent my vehicle from passing. But yes - I am at the 'just run them over' stage.
Better leave soon.
Another sign; driving through the busiest intersection in the city at the busiest time of the day when the traffic lights were out, occasionally closing my eyes and hoping for the best. I fully expected to be in an accident. The sign of my impending insanity - was that I did it anyway. What can I say? I needed some fresh milk. That was last week.
And then there is the local supermarket. My life-source since the freeway has closed, it has become my Myer, my David Jones food court, an artisan bakery, a whole foods market, and organic butcher, and the daily social outing for my two year old. Quite frankly, that's a lot to ask from SVS Harbourside, and it is understandable that the little supermarket is not often up to the job. I'm trying to stay positive, really. The other day, desperate for a pick-me-up, I walked the isles of the new pharmacy hoping to find a fun thing to buy. I bought Neurofen. So, putting it all onto SVS, I walked in, inhaled the air and paced the isles trying to find a treat. What did I come up with? 250ml of cream. What a great treat!
I am at the stage now where I go in to buy something for dinner and come out with laundry powder. I cannot eat another local zucchini and have turned largely vegetarian in response to the meat fridge. I numbly put dust covered, out of date items in my trolley and passively pay four times the usual cost for them. I have also given up restricting what my small one puts in the trolley, allowing her to roam free and get whatever she wants. Yesterday we came home with a broom, a mop head, one single newborn nappy, and four packets of the same bread roll, when in fact what we needed was phone credit. Fine with me.
Luckily for us, we have tickets to ride .... to Melbourne that is. The timing couldn't be better. Our girl is asking to go to cafes and keeps reminding me that she needs to ride on a blue boat. I have no idea where this notion has come from, but assume we can meet all these needs in the city of cafes, shops and good living. Oh hooray! Hello mini laneway bars, adoring grandparents and mild weather. Hello Easter sales and a reason to bother getting dressed every day. Hello public transport, roads and infrastructure, extensive menus and wine lists, and frivolity.
And goodbye .... to potholes, road closures and use-by dates that are in the past, as opposed to the future. I shall go away, just long enough to miss you so that I may return fresh as daisy, ready to navigate the isles of my local supermarket with good humour and a readiness to feed the family on Black and Gold 'Clinkers' for a week or two.
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