Slapdash parenting.

So I've been writing this blog for a while now. A few months.  In case you hadn't realised the main THEME of the whole blog is Slapdashery, or "Near enough is good enough", and in my loveable, endearing, cheeky and adorable way, I gently mock myself and my parenting for the amusement of all.

And frankly the public can't get enough of it. And by public, I mean my Mum. Hi Mum!

For a more detailed treatise on Slapdashery and Self-Deprecation please see this post or the guest post I did for Redcliffe Style.

But on a more SERIOUS note, sometimes I do feel a bit down.  I worry quite a lot about my parenting and feel inadequate.  I also worry about my own identity, and my own personal faults and flaws.  I wonder, what is my gift, my particular talent? I sometime feel like I'm not much good at anything.

I look at Instagram and crafty mummy blogs and feel like a big losery poo head, who is lazy and losery and pooey.  I feel jealous of them. I feel like I should be sewing and crafting, organising the house, and planting an organic vegetable garden, whilst commuting to my part time job and GIVING IT MY ALL and then I try to, and I get all stressed and upset because I find it so hard.  And then I get cross. And then just want to have a lie down and watch Game of Thrones on DVD (that's a whole other blog post yet to come people, stay tuned) whilst drinking a gin and tonic and fanning myself with a squashed origami crane.

The thing is this, I think.

I absolutely, truly believe that everyone is different.  You've just got to do shit your own way.  If you are a crafty old fox, then craft away.  If you are a green thumb, then dig the shit out of that garden.  If you can't relax unless your underwear is colour coordinated, then knock yourself out, you are awesome.  If you are like me ie. easily stressed out, anxious, and critical of yourself, then LOOK AWAY FROM THE TALENTED PEOPLE NOW and just  DO IT YOUR OWN WAY.

I read this article from Mrs Woog of Woogsworld fame on the Hoopla website and it made me think long and hard about all this "comparisonitis" that sometimes does my head in.

Another article that speaks to me and my natural tendency to worry and fuss is
"How to be an idle parent", by Tom Hodgkinson.  Dude has written a whole book on the topic. Haven't read it but the article is the shizz.

Also my friend JJ sent me this once when I was a bit down in the dumps.  Also excellent reading.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is I that think the best thing to do is recognise your limitations people! If you are constantly full of energy, positive and have natural talent, then ignore me, because I am not.

But if you feel stressed, a bit over stretched, a bit devoid of talent, a bit uncreative, I'm about to do what I never thought I would.

And that is GIVE YOU SOME PARENTING TIPS!

I said in my "How to be a Slapdash Mama" post that "lowering your standards is the new black".  I am not joking.  The only way I can ever feel relaxed and actually live in the moment, like all those freaking memes are telling me to, is to CUT ALL OF THE CORNERS and only do what I want to do.

Well, I try anyway.

So, here we go.

MAKING FOOD FUN!

See this cup of water? SO BORING! If I presented this to P frankly she'd chuck it in my face, and be right to do so. Nobody should be forced to drink such a boring drink, it's a human rights abuse.

Now, see THIS drink!? See what I've done here? I've taken a straw and shoved it into the cup of water. INSTANT PARTY! P thinks this is the bees knees.

And if I'm really feeling crazy, not only will I shove a straw in, but I will also put some ICE CUBES in there.  I am actually not kidding when I say P goes crazy for this shit.  They enjoy simple pleasures, your three year olds.

Give this totes boring plate of eats to a jaded three year old and feel their wroth!

But shove it into a fancy lunchbox, and you've got yourself a CLEVER and INTERESTING SNACK PACK. Clever, no? Easy, yes!

BIRTHDAY CAKES

OK, I actually like baking.  But basically if you do not like baking, just buy a cake already.  As Mrs Woog said, kids don't care where it comes from, cake is cake.

So working on the assumption that I already like baking and making cakes that taste yummy, I also know that I do not like having to assemble things or dick about with fiddly shit.

Basically I make the same cake every year. As did my mother for me.

P's 1st bday cake. Melt and mix butter cake recipe.  In a big heart shaped tin.  With pink icing.  Bob's your uncle.

I did it again for P's 2nd birthday. Here's the photo of the 1st birthday cake again, I couldn't find one from her 2nd. But picture this one. With pale yellow icing. And marshmallow daisies. EASY AS SHIT.  

I did it again for Baby B's christening, but I also seem to have cut corners with photo taking cos I can't locate one of that either.  It was a heart shape. With white icing.  Boo-yah!

I do admit to sometimes mixing it up with a rainbow layer cake.  BUT it's the SAME RECIPE. And it is freaking easy.

Looks good but is EASY. But if the idea stresses you out, DON'T DO IT! ALSO if you want to bake a huge crazy Women's Weekly cake book recipe, go ahead, I think that is awesome. DO WHAT YOU FEEL!

I went a bit off-theme for P's third birthday and did the layer cake again instead of the heart. But the layers were pink this time.  CRAZY I KNOW!

 I could go on at length.  Perhaps I'll make this a series too. Slapdash Parenting?  I'll think about it.

Do you cut corners? Or are you energetic and positive with colour coordinated undies? Does the idea of origami with toddlers bring you out in a cold sweat?  It's a rich tapestry my friends, with room for all!

Linking up with Flog your Blog Friday again.  I know, no button. Maybe I'll work it out this weekend.

Party Planning.

Went for a walk this morning, and you know what it made me think of? Why, it was just like hiking around the Swiss alps! So INVIGORATING and BRISK! I felt so energised and full of vim and vigour after that, just like I was in a Norsca ad! I simply love to get my alpine on at any given opportunity.*

Summer in Queensland. You are a cruel mistress. I think I hate you. Come back winter, I'm sorry I was nasty. I'll never complain about being cold ever again.**

P dressed herself in a corduroy skirt and cardigan this morning. I know, I think I started schvitzing like a shmendrek just looking at her.  Whatever that means.

In other ACTUAL news, I hear that our glorious leader Julia's called a federal election for September. Interesting times.

I love a good election. Lots of people are speculating as to why old Joolz has given us all such a huge lead in time.  Well, it's obvious you dummies! This unusually extended campaigning period will give us all plenty of time to plan associated election parties, a la Don's Party. Frankly the last election (which was a state one anyway) was a fizzer socially and I for one am determined to improve things this year.  It was damned considerate of the PM to think about the most important part of the whole voting caper, the booze up afterwards.  Good work Julia.

The election party to end all election parties was undoubtedly the one we attended for the federal election in 2007. Without declaring my hand, politically speaking,  we were all very excited that year for some reason. Anyway, it was at my friend J's house. She was the hostess with the mostess. 

We all dressed in electorally themed costumes. There was a Pork Barrel, an Aspirational Voter, a Blue Ribbon Liberal, a Trade Unionist, a Blue Collar Worker and Kevin Rudd, Julia Gillard and Peter Garrett even put in appearances!

We played an amusing drinking game with colour coordinated shots. Blue for Libs, Red for Labor, Green for, well, the Greens.

There may have been a mullet wig that did the rounds as well.

It was so much fun.

I don't know if it can be topped but we should try. Although it might be more of a wake than a celebration. Just saying.

Save the date dudes.

EDITED TO ADD: Tune in every Friday for my Slapdash Election 2013 Recap.  Can't be bothered reading the paper? Too depressed by the news?  Disengaged, confused, bored, indifferent, downright APATHETIC?  Fear not my Slapdash Army.  Let me tell you what to think.

TRUST ME!


*Am using that old faithful literary technique IRONY again. As is my wont.

**We all know I'm lying here. Don't tell Old Man Winter though, I need to get into his good books.

Some stuff from my brain, in dot points.

• I just realised the Blogger statistics thing has reverted to counting my own pageviews of the blog AND I CAN'T CHANGE THE BLOODY THING BACK! This means it's been counting all the times I click on the blog as well as when actual other non-me people do it.  Thus rendering the statistics TOTALLY INACCURATE. And considering how many times I click on the ole blog myself this means that probably in real life the tally is more like, I don't know, 2. Rather than 10000.  Just when I was about to quit work and live off my earnings too!  Sigh. 

• I had to work from home today because of the NATURAL DISASTER FLOOD PESTILENCE FAMINE CYCLONE TORNADO GLOBAL WARMING crazy type weather.  Good things about this include - 

• No commute. 
• No getting in trouble for talking to colleagues. 
• No commute. 

         Bad things about this include -

• No colleagues to talk to.  
• No aircon.   I'm not complaining, there's people out there with raging rivers running through their houses and no power.  We were barely touched, just a tree down in the back-yoo-ard (as P calls it).  This has of course added to the whole chaotic derelicte vibe we've got going on in the garden anyway as I'm sure you can imagine.

Snapped at the base.  Look away from feral weeds thanks very much.

Bye old Apple Gum.  Look away from the feral weeds ploise.

• M's workplace was closed today.  He didn't have to "work from home" though. I couldn't be doing with that, so I kept the baby home from daycare and made M look after him.  Bahaha.

• Made this the other night. It was SO GOOD.  Purveyors of Marion's Kitchen Brand, ploise feel free to send me a million packages of this if you want.  You know you do.  

That's all.  Thanks for stopping by.  I hope you all did ok in the weather.  Don't drive through flood water people.  That is for fools and lunatics.

Slapdash-issima.

Food, glorious food! La, lalala, custard! Food, glorious food! Something, ya dada, mustard!

I keep thinking of things to add to the litany of my areas of excellence as devised in this earlier blog post.  Something I left off the list was my particular talent for remembering song lyrics. Mind like a steal trap, people.

Anyway loyal readers, I write to you this afternoon from an undisclosed location, deep in the hills, where I have retreated to my bunker with a stockpile of hoarded tinned goods and bottled water*. The apocalyptic weather has everybody panicking. Rain, wind, tornadoes! The end of the world is surely nigh.  What's a girl to do in this weather but comfort cook and eat for Australia?

Despite all of my personal deficiencies, my friends, it is true that when the planets are aligned and the spirit (or a spirit as the case may be) moves me, I can achieve greatness.

Yesterday, I felt the spirit of Peg Bundy, my erstwhile Muse, leave my body, to be replaced by none other than the spirit of infamous cookery sexpot Nigella Lawson. I could tell it was her because I developed a sort of Nigella induced Tourettes condition. I was overcome with the urge to shout out random things like 'unctuous!' and 'luscious!' and 'full fat, added salt, midnight snack, motherfuckers!' in between barking like a dog and licking food suggestively off my fingers and tossing my chestnut main like a spirited filly.


I'm sure you will agree the likeness is quite striking.

I got my longsuffering husband M to take these pics while I was getting all Nigella on everyone's arses. I'm not sure that he's really caught the "Slapdash Mama" vision just yet but full marks to him for indulging me.

So, the reason I've got that food song in my head, and even taking into consideration my ambivalence (tending towards downright hostility)  to Australia Day jingoism, is that I do enjoy any chance I get to make (and eat) seasonally appropriate foodstuffs.

So, dear reader, I made lamingtons. This was no mean feat because it involves making a SPONGE CAKE which I actually hadn't ever done before.  Even though I was channelling Nigella, I actually used a Stephanie Alexander recipe.  But I reckon Nigella would be down with that shizz because she's always stealing borrowing other people's recipes anyway.  And I've got this kind of weird idea that celebrities are all friends, constantly dropping into each other's houses and chewing the fat over a few spritzers and a bowl of chips, so I'm sure they know each other and are totes bffs.

The aforementioned lamingtons.  VERY NICE thank you very much.  A feather-light sponge soaked in the requisite amount of chocolate icing, then rolled in the perfect amount of coconut. I think even a rusted on CWA member would have liked these babies.

And then, just for good measure, I rustled up a bit of balsamic vinegar marinaded butterflied lamb for dinner. 

It was good.  Very good.  Nigella, you know your stuff.

 Look, don't be jealous, not everyone can be as talented as I am.  Women want to be me, men want to be with me. And eat my lamb.  What can I say?

Are you possessed by any spirits? Like making seasonal treats? Have you caught my vision? If so, please return it at once!

Don't get washed away fellow Queenslanders.

Mwah.


*I may or may not actually be lying about this.

EDITED TO ADD: I just reached 10000 views! Exciting. Also am linking up with Alicia from One Mother Hen's Open Slather! Still haven't worked out buttons. Urgh.

'Straylia Day. Utes. Chopsticks. The Silver Budgie.

G'day my fellow 'straylians.  Gettin' pumped for 'straylia Day? Me too! I'm fully sick amped to the max and plan to get plastered whilst wearing the 'straylian Flag as a cape and harrassing some New 'straylians whilst watching Today Tonight and eating some prawns and wearing pluggers with the boxing kangaroo on them.

Es vous?

We've got a new landline, after our having-mobiles-only-cost-cutting-measure was declared a failure, shrilly and vociferously, by yours truly.  Unfortunately I keep getting calls from people looking for a ute hire business.  Which, quelle surprise, is not our thing. Some of these people are sounding vaguely annoyed at me when I explain, no, this isn't a Ute Hire Establishment, it's a private household. One woman said huffily, " Well, that's VERY helpful!" before hanging up.

Look, I'm sorry lady but the best I can do is loan you the Suzuki Swift one arvo for a small fee but I'm betting it's not what you're after either. I mean, you can't even get your shopping in the boot when you come out and realise you've left the pram in it. Trust me. I've been there. Lots of times.  Perhaps the spate of calls is due to the proximity to Australia Day (tomorrow).  The Bogans of Suburbia have been restless tonight, with burnouts aplenty.  I'm wondering if some of the utes have been hired for this express purpose?  I think possibly.  As I write the silence is again being shattered by sirens, perhaps chasing the burnout perpetrators.  Go get 'em Fun Busters! You have my full support.

In other interesting developments, apparently P can use chopsticks now. WTF. I can't even do that shit. I mean, the kid spends half her life throwing food round the house, getting spaghetti in her hair and nose and every available orifice and shoveling it all in with her bare hands, and we go to sushi train like twice ever and all of a sudden she's all, oh yeah hey Mum, so, whatever, like I can totally use chopsticks now, what of it? Can't you? Urgh Mum and Dad you are so embarrassing the way your sushi keeps shooting out from between your implements, what are you, special needs or something?

Anyway in the spirit of Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, Oy, Oy, Oy, I feel compelled to post this ancient photo of moi with a great Australian, our former glorious leader, Prime Minister Bob Hawke, aka the Silver Budgie.  Just because I've been looking for an excuse.

His skin was like a leather lounge suite, his hair like spun, um, steel wool? No Blanche that day I'm afraid, Bob was ALL BUSINESS.  Even when my colleague Z cheekily mentioned these photos.

On that note, fellow patriots, I bid you farewell. For now.

Break in the Weather. Sweating the Small Stuff.

Ma, the rains are here! [Insert obligatory comment about the weather, Crikey she's a harsh country of extremes, she is, and drought and flood and fire and pestilence and so forth].

Readers, I've got a bit of STUFF on my mind.  Yes, yes, of course we all know that I spend most of my time contemplating Art, Literature, Philosophy, the Downfall of Western Civilisation As We Know It, and my navel.   What time I have left over after I've finished that I mostly dedicate to Keeping it Real, Championing Feminist Issues and Making Benevolent Gestures to the Poor and Unfortunate, but look, sometimes even MY superior intellect and over-developed moral backbone strays into the mundane territory of worry and stress about the "small stuff".

Sometimes the small stuff is actually the big stuff, in a way.  So I've been sweating it. The small stuff, that is.

My comfort eating is back with a vengeance and my nails are torn and bitten.

I need to make a big decision.  But I can't manage it. So I just complain and poor-me about the same stuff endlessly and never change the thing that is really wrong.

Apart from that particular small stuff, there are other smaller, small stuffs that I've been wasting time worrying about.

So, in the words of Alan Partridge, let's just throw them all in the air and see where they land, shall we?

- We can't get the baby to sleep and he's screaming in the background as I type. Relaxing. Like fingernails on a blackboard. Who needs whale music when I can listen to that as I GET CREATIVE BLOG-STYLE.  My muse (or my A-Muse as I like to call her) is laughing at me while she lies on the couch and eats bon bons, I just know it.

EDITED FOR CLARIFICATION JUST LIKE THEY DO IN HANSARD: Don't worry loyal Slapdash Army, he's usually a great sleeper, just bad this evening which I thought added an amusing soundtrack to my Whining Blogging. Apt, even.  Carry on.

My A-Muse. She's laughing hysterically and saying "Don't worry about the bay-by Sarah! Here have a bon-bon!" [Source]

-  I don't want a smartphone any more, I think it's making me dumb.

- As mentioned, my comfort eating is back and my exercise habit is broken. How many months into the New Year was that, some kind of record? Gah.

- I'm worried that P is getting too much exposure to tizzy fairy princess ballerina tizziness mctizz shows/books/general stuff.  She is basically a very imaginative creative little thing and she loves to dress up and so forth, and it's not that I don't like princessy fairy ballerina ness in itself, I just feel that's kind of all she's into.  Anyone got some good suggestions for non tizzy stuff I can show her? Books/movies?  I bought her the movie "Brave" which is fantastic but it's a bit too scary really.

P performing an interpretive dance for a small admirer. With requisite tizzy mermaid style getup. Tizzy.  I like that word. 

So peeps, what are you worried about? Do you like bon bons? What are bon bons anyway? What issues do you champion? Do you like to dress as a mermaid? Or Cinderella? Anyone seen my moral backbone? I think I left it at Woolies.

EDITED AGAIN: To link up with Grace for Flog Your Blog Friday. One day I will work out how to put buttons on my blog. Anyone who nows how to do this feel free to explain in the comments. Grace did once but I still can't work it out. Blargh.

Week so far. Such as it is.

Hello again. Can I use this opportunity to say THANK YOU very much and welcome to my new FB likers and blog followers. Also another huge shout out to Rachel from Redcliffe Style for hosting my guest post the other day, I have had a lot of lovin' from that post. Rachel you are the best.

I'm feeling a bit uninspired tonight so I'll just drone on in my usual default monotone about stuff I've been up to.

- Spent most of Saturday wandering around the shops to avoid the heat. We bought a new beach shelter. Here's hoping it doesn't go the way of the last two. I tentatively suggested to M that perhaps we should set it up in a practice run here at home before having to wrestle it in the wind at the beach. He pooh-poohed this idea, alleging again that it was a design flaw in the last two that resulted in disaster.  Hmm.

- We ran into my friend T and her fam while we were at said shops, so we all went to the Sushi Train.  All a bit dodgy I felt in such hot weather, the little dishes of luke warm sushi and chicken kebabs making their sorry way round the track in inadequate air con.  Still none of us died of salmonella so that's something.

- Invited ourselves round to our new friends M and H who live a few streets away on Saturday evening. They were supposed to come over here but I panicked about our hot house and demanded that they allow us to descend upon them en masse instead, as they have both a large wading pool and air conditioning. I think they were ok with it. H texted me today to ask me to play a game of netball with her team and I forgot to reply until just then. I think maybe I've committed enough faux pas now, I should really stop. As much as I like a good faux pas.  Sorry H.

-  I commuted to work like the sorry automaton that I am.  Hamster wheel anyone? The worst thing about the commute is being stuck in stop start traffic while badly needing to go to the loo.  When I was preggers this happened a few times and once I had to pull off the M1 and drive manically around until I found a public loo in a park. Desperate times, desperate measures. I mentioned the whole busting for a wee thing to my supervisor and he said his brother works in Manila and apparently the traffic is so bad someone has devised a sort of wee bag you can strap to your leg for these situations.  Frankly I'm interested in the concept and am about to Google it, stat.

I'm hopeless at taking pictures at the moment, I'm sure everyone is missing my artsy shots.  I'll get onto it asap.  Tomorrow I'm documenting the shit out of my day, don't you worry.

Adios my slapdashery groupies.

xx

Boobs out for Kochie.

I know everyone on the interwebs has already had a thing or two to say re: our old friend and well known wit and raconteur David Koch and the public breastfeeding thing, and I thought about not mentioning it, but I changed my mind so get ready for my two cents even if it isn't very original.

If you don't know what I'm referring to read it here.  Also I feel the need to add the caveat that I don't care if you bottle feed your baby, people have good reasons, but breastfeeding is really important to me and I feel strongly about it and about creating a culture of public acceptance.

I think for me it was actually today, when he tried to sort of apologise in a half arsed way, that was worse than anything.

This article and also this one are written by people more articulate than I could ever be, but I still want to say this.

Kochie telling women that they should make sure they are being "classy" whenever they are breastfeeding their child, is to me another example of the larger general and commonly heald belief that no matter what a woman is doing, she must AT ALL TIMES be aware of her appearance.  She must always ensure that she is pleasing to the eye, whether she is walking around the shops, getting on a bus, reading the paper at a cafe, running a marathon or God forbid, whipping out a boob to feed a hungry/sad/tired/grizzly baby in public view.  Everything she does must be in full consideration of others and what they might think about how she looks. And frankly if she doesn't make an effort to adjust her appearance then what can she expect but public comment/criticism/ridicule, because didn't you know it is your feminine duty to LOOK GOOD/CLASSY/ATTRACTIVE probably even when you are DYING OF CANCER or bloody sitting on the toilet or anywhere.

What a crock.  This is such a big deal people! I am so mad about it I could just about scream. What he is saying is that it is ok to breastfeed, as long as you kind of look like Miranda Kerr, drape yourself in a peach coloured muslin wrap and retreat to another room to do it in a CLASSY way.  So I'm thinking he wouldn't be ok with a really fat woman with, say, a beard, a hunchback and monobrow exposing an enormous breast to feed her hungry child in the food court or wherever because I don't think she would fit in Kochie's gross little worldview.   But you know what?? That woman has every right to get her breast out in public, and who is he to determine what is "classy" and what isn't?

The other day at the shops a young hooligan wandered past me wearing a muscle shirt that exposed not one but both of his man boobs and nipples.   His breast tissue is apparently classy enough to be exposed to the world but mine isn't.

I can tell you now, people, that all this hoo ha makes me want to keep breastfeeding Baby B in public until he is 15, just to see the looks on people's faces.

Get your boobs out ladies! The more we see breasts doing what they should, in public, the less people will even notice! The more boobs the merrier! I have been guilty of skulking around the toilets/front seat of the car to feed my babies. Never again! No wraps or covers for me, I am going the whole boob out.

It's a boob people. Deal with it.

30 Odd Foot Of Les Mis. Or should I say LES MIS!

Hello my fellow sweaty broads. And gentlemen of course.

The stinky weather returneth.  Hope you Southerners are ok in the heat. Although I argue that a humid 32 in Queensland is PRETTY hideous.  OK maybe not 48 but still bad and worthy of whinging!

I've been looking through some of me posts from the olden days ie. 3 months ago, and it has come to my attention that my use of CAPITALISATION has become more and more OUT OF CONTROL as the months have worn on.  Therefore I am staging a capitalisation INTERVENTION on myself and have committed to no more than, um, 10 WORDS IN CAPITALS!

SHIT!  I just WASTED SOME! AND SOME MORE!  It's worse than I first thought.  I might have to go cold turkey.  Something to think about for next time. Or do I mean, NEXT TIME!

Gah it's a hard habit to break.

Also, I forgot about Flog Your Blog Friday today.  Sorry everyone :-(

Anyway, the point of this post is actually about how I went to see Les Mis the other night.  As loyal readers and peeps who know and lurve me in real life know, I love the shizz out of this musical.  I saw the stage show in Brissy when I was probs about 10 and cried my little eyes out. I saw it again in an amateur performance back on the coast. Old school friend LV I reckon it was the one where your sister was Eponine.  I could be wrong though. We owned the CD and I recently bought it again on ITunes.  See? I love it.

I've been dying to see the movie.  

I went to see it with my beloved cousin B and our beloved friend J (you may remember J from such outings as Going to the Hyperdome to See Skyfall).  B and J are both singing former drama student actory arts types. B was even in the orchestra for her local amateur production of Les Mis back in the day! And J sang in a youth choir and they did all the songs! So they have a history of musical appreciation.

So as you can all imagine, I was pretty horrified when I originally asked B if she was going to see the movie version and she answered, quietly, with shame, "Sarah, I actually don't think I like musicals any more...".

I was quite dumbstruck.  What. The. Hell.  When I recovered I said to her, quite rationally and not OTT at all...

"I. Do. Not. Even. Know. Who. You. ARE. ANY. MORE!! Get out of my HOUSE!"

And then flung myself sobbing onto my bed.

I lost no time in telling J who then told B, and I believe her words were, "WASH YOUR MOUTH OUT WITH SOAP YOUNG LADY!".

I mean, really. Luckily she came to her senses and it was, in the end, her deft organisational skills that got us all out of our houses and rendez vous-ing, once again, at the Logan Hyperdome.  

So we watched the movie.

Guys.

I didn't even say this to them at the time properly but I think I have committed the cardinal sin of Expecting Too Much From A Movie And Then Being Disappointed.

I know, I'm a bit sad too.

Look I still loved it because it is Les Mis!  But frankly I think bloody Russell bloody Crowe bloody shitting ruined it for me.

Rusty cannot sing.  Although B and J both really loved loved loved it, we were all agreed on that point.  Like he really can't.  As J said, couldn't they have got a voice double? I think his performance meant I disengaged from the movie. I only cried a little bit. No cleansing floods of tears for me.

Rusty is Javert [Source]

Things I loved about the movie;

- It was Les Mis!

- The music!

- Anne Hathaway

- Sacha Baron Cohen and Helena Bonham Carter (good Lord they have a lot of names between them). I love the Master of the House scene anyway and they are totally hilarious.

- The first, opening scene. Gosh.

Things I was disappointed by;

- Rusty as Javert.

- Oh, I just didn't feel as moved by it as I remembered from the olden days.

All I could think of when Russell was singing "Stars" was his band "30 Odd Foot of Grunts". This was not what I should have been focusing on.

Russell in his natural habitat, with his fellow Grunters. [Source].

Despite all this, don't think I wasn't wandering round the house the next day like George Costanza in that Seinfeld episode, humming and muttering "Master of the House, keeper of the zoo, yadda daada dada dada dum dum dum" like there was no tomorrow.

Sorry to bring you all down and stuff.  NEVER MIND!

CRAP I'VE DONE IT AGAIN! Won't you just STOP IT with the CAPITALS YOU MANIAC!

How to be a Slapdash Mama.

Hello loyal minions,
Rachel from Redcliffe Style has kindly given me the chance to do a guest post on her blog!

Exciting!
You can see it over her way today -  http://www.redcliffestyle.com/2013/01/guest-post-how-to-be-slapdash-mama.html

Pip pip!

Sarah

Nigella. Hot in the city. Speed blogging.

I suppose one of the good things about being back at work is that my job is in the City, so I have access to cool places to wander round and spend my money at during lunch breaks.

Yesterday I bought a lovely blazer half price from Jigsaw. My work friend E took me there, I loved everything I saw. I've never bought anything from Jigsaw before but threw caution to the wind and was practically chucking money at them in the end. Navy blazer with white spots, I love you hard.

In case my descriptive word-pictures aren't enough.

I also bought Nigella's latest offering "Nigellissima". Have you been watching the series on ABC1?

I just love Nigella. I won't hear a bad word said against her. I love her food writing style, I love the recipes, I love her humour, I love the TV shows, I love her look, I love how she's had so much grief and loss in her life and still manages to enjoy the good stuff.  I especially love how she hams it up in the TV shows and plays up the sex-ay food unctuousnessness stuff, which I know drives some people batty.

I love it all.

She is inspirational. After reading through this new book I was totally overtaken by the urge to cook something different and tasty and Anglo-Italian.

Bastoncini de pesce. 

Bastoncini de pesce, deconstructed. Otherwise known as fish fingers. Chopped up.

HAHAHA!

So sue me, I'm tired and the kids love them.

Stay tuned for me actually cooking something from the actual cookbook rather than heating up some frozen fish sticks.  They were Jamie Oliver brand though. Practically gourmet.

Maybe I should cook every recipe from the book and then blog about it?? I TOTALLY THINK THAT HASN'T BEEN DONE BEFORE!??

What? Julia who?

Damnit. I need another gimmick.

Ideas in the comments please.

I'm speed blogging because I have a date to see Les Mis tonight. Woot!  Finally!

Keep your ingredients fresh people. You know I do.

Til tomorrow.

xx

Liebster Award.

Hello everyone.

I'm as tired as all get out tonight due to heat-induced sleep deprivation, and work sucking the utter life out of me. I mean, not that it is particularly onerous, it just takes up my precious TIME! How very dare it.

Luckily it has cooled down heaps tonight or I don't know what would have happened!

My work friend A is ON MY CASE about attending to the regular updating of the blog so I thought I'd do something that I've been meaning to finish for ages...

So, ages ago one of my new favourite bloggers, Alison from Oculus Mundi, awarded me another one of those bloggy prize thingies, the Liebster Award.

The Liebster award  "..is given to support and recognise up and coming bloggers who have less than 200 followers (on their blog) or likers (on their Facebook page). The word “Liebster” apparently has German origins and is reported to mean sweetest,  kindest, nicest, dearest, beloved, lovely, kind, pleasant, valued, cute, endearing, and welcome. By following some basic rules (answer 11 questions set by your nominee, write 11 questions of your own and pass the award onto 11other  bloggers to answer) it enables readers to get to know new 

bloggers and connect  with a wider audience."

Well, I definitely fall into the less than 200 followers or likers, haha! Not that I don't value each and every one of my 18 followers and 60 likers! 

I love you, I do.

But frankly, if YOU really loved ME, you'd go out and recruit at least 5 friends each to the Slapdash Mama cause. I just don't think you are trying HARD enough. Don't make me get all Tupperware Pyramid Sales Scheme Jonestown Massacre on your arses.  You've been warned.

Ahahaha.  I'm KIDDING.  Sort of.

So anyway, Alison's blog is a rollicking read, lots of tales from a misspent youth in Glasgow, as well as her life in Oz. She claims never to vomit until the morning after, was recently suspended from Twitter for Tweeting Julian Assange's mother, and is peri-menopausal! 

Go and read her blog NOW, oh loyal followers.

So anyway the whole point is for me to answer her questions and then pose some more of my own. I don't know if I can identify 11 bloggers, I'm getting tireder by the second, but I'll try.

Here goes.

1.  How did you come up with the name for your blog?

Well I guess you could say I thought it would be in poor taste to call the blog "Half-arsed Mama". Ha! Anyway, slapdash is the way I do stuff.  It's genetic.  It's the opposite of perfectionism. It's GETTING SHIT DONE even if it means using sticky tape to take up a hem, never moving furniture to vacuum, and coasting through uni with a raft of mediocre Credits to your name because you wrote all your assignments the night before they were due, alone, in the dark, hunched over the computer with a hundred journal articles balanced on your lap.  

So, Slapdash Mama it is.  Get it?

2.  W̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶w̶i̶l̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶se̶n̶d̶ ̶m̶e̶ ̶m̶o̶n̶e̶y̶?̶ What inspires you to write?

I don't really know. I guess I am inspired to write because I often see the humour or the ridiculous in the everyday and I want to SHARE IT WITH THE WORLD! There's often moments I wish someone else was there to have witnessed it too.  Kind of like the first time I saw the Ali G show, home alone late at night, literally rolling on the floor crying with laughter and there wasn't one bastard there to share it with me.  

I used to write emo poetry and short stories about FEEELLLLIIIINNNGGGS and misery and angst but that was then and this is now.  

3.  Do you blog to a schedule (or are you a lazy bastard like me)?

Schedule? Hahahaha. I am as sporadic as a mofo. I do it when I get a chance, I never plan it, it all just comes pouring out. I like to think I am channeling the Muse, like Virgil or Homer. But I like to imagine that my Muse looks a bit like Peg from Married with Children. 

Click for source

4.  What was one of your most popular blog posts?

My most popular post so far is my New Year's resolution post.  Other ones are on my sidebar there.  My favourite post was this one, but nobody else likes it. Except my husband, maybe that's why we are married.

5.  Do you post on anything controversial?

Not really, I'm frightened to. Although I do swear which is a bit off. And I totally agree, I've said it before, swear words are fucking uncouth and as uncreative as shit.
6.  What do you do for Hogmonay (that's New Year's Eve if you are unsure)?

It varies, usually nothing much, I find it's a often a bit of a fizzer. I always want to be invited to someone's glam party in their penthouse so I can drink their fancy plonk and lounge in the jacuzzi but frankly every year I'm disappointed.  
7.  If you knew what was coming with the whole parenting caper, would you still have had children?

Yes! Because although I couldn't imagine how hard/aggravating/exhausting/boring/smelly parenthood is, I also never imagined the LOVE, the pure but totally FIERCE love you have for your children. It is almost SHOCKING in its intensity, or it is for me.

8.  What's the one place you would like to visit - even if you have already been there?

I would love to go to so many places but I have never been to Italy and would love to. Also Japan. Also back to New York with M again. Also back to Ireland. OK that was too many, I'd better stop.

9.  Favourite film?  You can name more than one if that's too hard.

Oh that is hard. I love The Sound of Music, Anchorman, Eyes Wide Shut. HAHA kidding about Eyes Wide Shut. Reminds me of the story about how Mum took my VERY elderly nana to see that movie at the cinema (AWKWARD!).  At the end, Nana turned to Mum and said "Well I know now why he [Stanley Kubrick] died, he took one look at that movie and that was it! All that HUMPING."

HAHAHAHAHA!
10.  W̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶l̶o̶v̶e̶ ̶a̶b̶o̶u̶t̶ ̶m̶e̶?̶  Something you are really passionate about (besides me)?

I'm passionate about reading, although I don't do as much as I used to which depresses the hell out of me.  Every time I go to read before bed I end up falling asleep, I am always so tired. Oh well.
11.  One thing you would like everybody to know about you

I am really a 50 year old man who writes from the basement of my mother's house wearing only underpants and a stained white singlet.

SO.....now I'm supposed to write 11 questions myself. Gah. SO HARD.

1.  Were you in the "cool gang" at school?

2.  What's your tipple of choice?

3. Cats or dogs?

4.  Favourite book?

5. Do you have a hidden talent?

6.  Favourite item of clothing?

7.  Beach or mountains?

8.  Is the world getting better or is it getting worse?

9.  What do you want to be when you grow up?

10.  Where do you live? What's your phone number? Bank account details? PIN?

11. 5 people you'd ask to dinner if you could ask anyone at all.

OK so I'm tagging these peeps...some probs have more followers than the rules say but I'm a rebel like that...I've just discovered most of these blogs. I know some of you have been tagged recently already or done it before or whatever, but never mind.

Housewife In Heels

This Charming Mum 

Present Imperfection

Enid Bite 'Em

Mumabulous (AGAIN!!)

Blundermum

Melbourne Mum

OK I'm off to bed.

Mwah.