Dress, Memory - or, not a book review.

My primary school years were unbelievably formative.  I went to the same school from pre-school right through to Year 7, and my memories of that time are so vivid, so so vivid. Is that weird? Part of me wants to say that the people I went to primary school with made me who I am today.  But I think that might be hyperbole.  What with parents and relatives and high school and uni and motherhood and work and whatnot doing their level best to mould me like unwilling plasticine since 1992.

Still, it isn't over the top to say that, at least for me, the people I was devoted to in primary school had a lasting influence on me.  I think of them often.  I see them sometimes.  I still remember their birthdays.

When we were in primary school, my friends and I were all interested in reading and writing.  We used to read and act out sections of Roald Dahl novels for our reluctant classmates.  Or at least that's how I remember it.

Whenever I see them, particularly my old best friend A, I can see how we influenced each other, even today. I think grown ups, and parents, underestimate the power those first friendships have on you.  Sometimes when I think of P starting school, and forming those early, firm, fast attachments, I feel kind of a pang.  

One of those little girls from my past has grown up to become a writer. A very good one.  A clever, talented, lovely one.  Her name is Lorelei and she has written a book called Dress, Memory, which is a memoir of her 20s, using one dress from her amazing and enormous vintage dress collection, per decade.

I pre-ordered the book, and got it delivered, signed, with a loving message inside. I devoured it in one day.  The book is based on a blog by the same name but is quite different. It is funny, and lovely, and captures all the ANGST and broken hearts and weird shit that goes down in your 20s when you can't work out who the HECK you are and what on earth you are supposed to be doing with yourself.  I for one had a relatively TUMULTUOUS time in my 20s, love affair wise and friend wise and life choices wise and by GOD I am glad not to be there any more.

It was a bit strange to be reading this book because it felt weirdly like it was part of my story too.  Since going to different high schools, Lorelei and I have dipped in and out of each other's lives, mostly staying in contact due to her diligence and commitment to our old friendship, and more recently her unwavering support of my  embryonic writing "career" haha. Pretty much all those girls I was friends with went to the local Lutheran private school, but I went to the state high school.  I missed them, and was jealous of what I perceived to be their continued closeness. It was strange to read their story from another perspective, because I remember bits and pieces, and stories she told, but never the back story, never the full picture. I've always been slightly in awe of her artistic lifestyle and interesting social network, and embarrassed of my suburban existence, but reading it made me realise WE ARE ALL WEIRDOS WHO KNOW NOTHING.  So many of the anecdotes and emotions were familiar to me. VERY FAMILIAR! Oh god THE YOUNG, HEY, THEY KNOW NOTHING, NOTHING I TELL YOU!

I went to the book launch at Avid Reader. We all wore our own "Dress, Memories". I donned my darling dead Nana's tartan skirt in honour of the occasion.

 

It was a great and emotional night. I went with my cousin B and my almost-cousin K.  We got pretty emo.  There were tears and we remembered the olden days when we used to share a house and each others clothes. WHERE  HAS THE TIME GONE PEOPLE WHERE HAS IT GONE?

I have a lot of feelings about this book that it's hard to express, but mainly, I am just so thrilled and proud of my old dear friend for writing it. It's beautiful, clever, charming, and eloquent.  Just like her.

Everyone should immediately click on this link and purchase it POST HASTE.

Misandry.

One afternoon last week , after a long day inside with the kids, I put them in the double pram and walked down to Woolies to get a few things. I used to hate pushing the pram round the streets in the early baby days with P. We live in a new estate and back then it was all dust, sun, no trees, no paths, tradies everywhere, no paths and did I mention no paths? P also used to scream like a banshee in the pram so there was that too. These days though the streets are more pleasant, it's cool weather at the moment, and the kids like a jaunt round the burbs as much as the next preschooler. It's more enjoyable all round.

So anyway we went and bought our stuff at Woolies and B fell asleep in the pram so I took the opportunity to pop into the new Dan Murphy's that has opened. How excitement, I mean it's walking distance! I selected an affordable bottle of French bubbles as my inaugural local Dan's purchase and lined up to pay. As I rummaged around in the pram to find my purse,  I said to the high vis-wearing guy behind me to go ahead if he wanted to.

"You sure?" he said, as I ferreted around fruitlessly.
"Yes, Yes sure, I'm trying not to wake the baby, go ahead!" I repeated.

There was a bit more of that sort of exchange but he did go ahead, I found my purse, paid and went on my way.

As I walked down the main road outside the shopping centre, I suddenly heard someone beeping as they approached. I turned to look, and could see someone in a 4wd beeping and waving at me as they drove past. I didn't wave back, they went by too quickly, but thought to myself " Oh, who was that? Someone I know?". The car turned off to the right and  drove into the distance. I wondered who it had been, maybe the husband of one of my friends?  I could see he was wearing a high vis top. 

I kept walking closer to home, and crossed into the street leading into our little estate. Suddenly, there he was again, turning into the street in front of me, beeping and waving. I felt embarrassed, like I should recognize him. He pulled up as I walked past.

"WHO IS THAT MUMMY! " P was yelling.

"Someone who thinks they know me darling, they've made a mistake I think! " I told her.

I kept walking, thinking, maybe he was visiting a display home? Was he a neighbour I didn't recognize?

And then he appeared  again. He'd turned around, and he'd  followed me. He beeped and waved and stopped in the middle of the street.

"Need a lift?" He called. I was still too far away to see his face properly but I remember thinking it looked red, flushed. I half stopped and turned his way. Did he have a hat on? I can't even remember now.

"No thank you!" I smiled and waved politely, still worried he was someone I should recognize.

Then, he smiled, leaned further out of his window and called out ,  "You single?"

Almost before the words were out of his mouth I'd turned on my heel, practically  running, pushing the kids through a cut away in the fence,  an easement that leads through to the cul de sac next to my street.

My heart was beating like a thousand drums. Did that just happen?

"WHO WAS THAT MAN MUMMY WHAT WAS HE SAYING?" P yelled again.

"Nobody,  darling.  He was just saying hello."

I didn't look back. I kept going until I was at the top, almost on my street. My heart was freaking pounding like it was going to jump out of my chest. As I came to the corner I suddenly thought,  what if he was there? Could he still see me?

I raced inside and locked the door.

I replayed it over and over. I rang M and told him. I thought of the guy in Dan Murphy's, with the high vis shirt on. Was it him?

I'm still thinking about it, sort of second guessing myself. Going over and over the details in my head.

Maybe he was just being friendly?

But he followed me. In his car. And yelled out his window at me, asked if I was single, in front of my little kids. Who SAYS that to a strange woman pushing her kids in a double pram?

But maybe I misheard him?

But he still followed me. In his car. He doubled back to find me.

Was he someone I knew?? Maybe someone from the gym?  I'd had another weird interaction with a gym dude a while ago...was it him?

No. I saw him three times. I'd  have recognized him.

It's weird how at the time my body knew what to do before my mind did. My dumb apologetic second guessing brain wants to think the best of everyone.

M and I laughed about it that night, because, well, you know. I said, maybe he saw me buying the booze with the kids in the pram and thought, now that looks like a single Mum who needs some company!

Which is funny, but also deeply unfunny. Because far out,  dude. Didn't your mother tell you not to follow women in your car?

The next morning I wanted to walk the kids to kindy.  So I did, even though that guy scared the living shit out of me.  As I walked the streets, I scanned every car for his sand coloured 4wd.

Wasn't there of course.

It feels like a sort of weird dream now, a funny anecdote that I could laugh off. But it's this kind of casually sinister stuff that women put up with all the time and goes on over and over again . Why?

Like that time, years ago, when a well dressed middle aged man in a bright red Commodore screamed at me in rage, as I pushed my newborn baby across the road outside the Mater hospital, that I didn't "own the fucking road!!!!!!!". That time, I cried, already fragile. People stood around. Nobody said anything to reassure me. W

Confessions of a non flosser: a cautionary tale

Hello.

Um.

So this is awkward. You look good. Keeping well. Lost weight?
No, me either. More's the pity.

Well, I've been really busy and popular and attractive since I last saw you, in case you were wondering.
Life's never been better.

Apart from my ghastly wisdom tooth gum infection dramas that are slowly being rectified with two different types of antibiotics of course. Hashtag agony hashtag so sick hashtag frightenedofdentaljudgement.

I've been Googling gum disease like a crazy person. Apparently there's a strong connection between gum disease and heart disease which has cheered me up no end and has contributed in no way at all to my fevered gargling of apple cider vinegar and desperate flossing and sudden and hasty purchase of coQ10 enzyme something something. I'm eating that shit like it's candy. Except I don't eat candy any more because you know tooth abscess gum ulcer infection thing who knows haven't actually gone to the dentist yet but it's sure to be dire.

I'm wondering if this has been lurking in my mouth for ages now, contributing to the general malaise and unwellness that has been thoroughly documented in this here blog aka whinging diatribe.

Now that the antibiotics have kicked in I actually feel remarkably energetic and better than I have for ages so maybe I'm right. Anyway I'm stealing myself for the lecture I'm bound to get from the dentist because I haven't been for about 2 years I think and am a sporadic flosser.  Dentists hate non flossers. Which I think is counter intuitive because I'm putting their kids through school so they should be thanking me really.

I've learned my lesson though.

In other news, I'm going to the ProBlogger cocktail party this Friday as Amanda Cooker and a Looker's date which is rather exciting. Will be less exciting if I've just had a wisdom tooth extracted but we shall cross that dental bridge when we come to it. The theme for this party is Ahoy.  So, nautical. I'm pretty excited by this concept and have been internally workshopping a potential outfit that I'm hoping will make me look like this...

...but will probably make me look more like this...

So, do you floss? Enjoy smoking a pipe and eating spinach? Flounce about in Culottes?

An anthropological study on the effects of gender on computer game choice, including observations on Gen Y social interaction in educational settings and uptake of cigarette smoking.

So my job at the uni library is weird.  I already mentioned that hanging with the youth of today makes me feel old as the hills, but in its defence working here does provide a relatively high level of entertainment.  I while away the hours on my late late shift (the library is open until 1am, can you BELIEVE IT!) silently observing the HUMAN INTERACTIONS around me and by God it's fascinating.

Some of the more enlightening observations, in an ANTHROPOLOGICAL sense (just call me Margaret Mead) include the following;

-  one of my main tasks involves issuing X box controllers and X box games to students so they can procrasti-game instead of performing legitimate LEARNING TASKS. Frankly, I think that this is what is wrong with the Youth of Today and I occasionally tell them so in no uncertain terms because I FEEL LIKE IT IS MY ROLE.  They find me terribly amusing I can tell you.  Also they often ask me for technological things like HDMI cords or something and blah blah syncing the controllers blah blah something and everytime they do this I have to ask them to tell me which thingie they are talking about by holding them up so they can point to the correct one. If they can't find a book, I say "Goodness me what is wrong with the youth of today!?" and if they can't use the stapler I say "Goodness me what is wrong with the youth of today!?" and it gives me no end of pleasure.  Anyway, back to the observations re X box thingies. I have documented an interesting phenomena that I believe speaks in a profound way to the possibility of INNATE GENDER DIFFERENCE. Basically it has come to my attention that;

         a) 9/10 times it is young chaps who borrow X Box games and
         b) when they do so it is ALWAYS either Call of Duty or FIFA that they borrow and NOTHING  ELSE even though there is an ENTIRE COLLECTION OF GAMES TO CHOOSE FROM and
         c) sometimes, if the rare girl borrows a game, it could be any one of ALL OF THE REST OF THE GAMES.

 Isn't that interesting? Do you see what I am saying here? Significant, no? I find it so and muse on it endlessly. There are definite ramifications for the nature vs nurture debate in that one, make no mistake my friends. *raises one eyebrow in a meaningful way*

- the university library is a hub of AWKWARD social interaction for PEOPLE IN THEIR EARLY TWENTIES and frankly if I have to witness another conversation such as the following I am basically going to go postal or call shenanigans on them or call their mums or something;

Guy [walking one way, to girl walking past him the other way] Hey! I know you from somewhere!
Girl: Yeah! Yeah....I think I know you from somewhere too!
Guy:  [pauses, staring at her meaningfully, leans back and points his finger at her] I know, the beer garden!
Girl: [looks blankly at him]
Guy (less confident now): Ummmmm....yeah it was you wasn't it?
Girl: Ummmm...
Guy [rapidly losing confidence]: Oh...no...I know...the other night...at the casino? You were drunk.
Girl [showing some signs of remembering]: oh yes! Yes! You work at the casino?!
Guy: No. No I don't work at the casino. Remember, we were all "I go to [insert uni name here]", and
"Hey me too!", and then we came back here, and then...
Girl: Oh yeah, yeah, i remember you, how are you?
Guy: Good.

At this point I had to retreat back into the returns area because OMG THE AWKWARD MAKE IT STOP OMG.

- There are also PUBLIC DISPLAYS OF AFFECTION and I CANNOT HANDLE IT MAN I AM NOT EUROPEAN THIS IS AUSTRALIA I AM UPTIGHT AND IN MY 30s AND I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOUR YOUTHFUL LUSTY WAYS THANK YOU VERY MUCH I JUST WANT A WARM BATH AND A HOT WATER BOTTLE.

I need two new signs made for the counter top - one is to read "Get a room alley cats!" and the other will state that the lobby area is a "Social awkwardness free zone".

-  all the KIDS TODAY still smoke.  It makes me think about smoking and then I start wanting to take it up.  It becomes quite an attractive prospect.  I consider the FOR argument for my taking up cigarettes to include the following points;

     a) it would make me thin
     b) it's not like I'm 14 years old, so I wouldn't be smoking for as long and consequently I would already be old and decrepit by the time it started to kill me, therefore it is totally not that bad
     c) I would look glamorous like Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction

Obviously the AGAINST argument is basically;

     a) it's smoking you idiot!

In conclusion, kids today eh? *shakes head knowingly, raises eyebrows, tsks meaningfully*

Why I write.

There’s this THING going round, perhaps I could call it a meme? It’s blogging community related anyway, and it’s like a sort of pass the parcel for GROWN UP writery types.

My dear friend Caitlin from Mother Down Under has passed it onto me.  It’s an invitation to answer the question “Why do you write?”

Caitlin texted me to make sure it was ok to pass the torch on to me, so to speak, probs because basically I don’t really write much at the moment. HAHAHAAAAA. Not that I don’t want to! By God I’ve always got words swirling round my head but by Jove it’s tough to get a moment alone with a writing apparatus to get them down on the bally jolly buggery paper.

Still, I am jumping at this opportunity to SPILL MY GUTS about why I do what I (sporadically) do.

What am I working on?

I am trying to write some longer versions of blog posts in the hope I can craft them into something I can get published some place. It's proving difficult. Also I have started thinking in more detail about a book i want to write.  Yes. Thinking. Not writing.

I really feel the strong urge to come up with some sort of ingenious creative endeavour but I am sort of falling flat.  In that I am not coming up with one.  Any ideas?

How does my writing differ from others of its genre?

Genre? Genre? What genre even is my writing?

How does my writing process work?

I just have words and shit swirling round my head all day and sometimes I spew it out here. If I am trying to write something else I stop and start and stop and start. I used to take notes on my phone every time something good came into my head. I should probably start doing that again.

Why do I write?

Well. Look, I think the reason I write can be summed up eloquently in this way.

I write shit down because when I try and say it out loud, it always comes out all screwy and peeps end up looking at me like…

But you see, if I write it all down, man, it comes out SMOOTH LIKE….umm….SMOOTH LIKE PEANUT BUTTER OUT OF THE JAR ON A WARM DAY. Now that is MOTHEREFFING SMOOTH PEOPLE.

You see what I’m getting at!?

Here’s an example.

Me [sitting at the desk at work]: HAHAHAHAHA

Coworker: what are you laughing at?

Me: Oh, it’s this thing on the internet, it’s a blog, she’s so hilarious and high fashion but also FUNNY and she was just going on about culottes and shit and she’s really thin and her blog is called Man Repeller, because she doesn’t wear makeup but it’s MORE THAN THAT it’s completely brilliant and guess what I just saw she was born like 10 years after me, how come she is so funny, it’s not really fair, but get this she has this MANIFESTO and it’s all about Man Repelling and I am totally a man repeller from way back because of my commitment to pubic hair and…

Coworker:

But like, if I totally write it all down it makes sense, right? Am I right? I’m right aren’t I? It makes sense? People? People? Anybody? Bueller?

Anyway I think I am supposed to nominate some other bloggers....

I choose my friend Housewife in Heels, and also ole Frank at Talking Frankly. Even though they may have already done it. Soz if you have guys.

Let age be no barrier.

Hello everyone. Life is very busy round these parts, and on top of that I've been doing a lot of unproductive deep thinking about life, love and the universe. And age. Actually, let's face it, I've mostly been obsessing about my age.

I feel really old at the moment. I've realised it has no small part to do with the fact that I am now working part time at a university library again (the same one that my husband works at no less, which is amusing in its own way).  I don't know if you know, but apparently it is possible to now be old enough to be a university student and to also have BEEN BORN IN 1997! WHAT THE !?  The first time I clapped eyes on a PYT's student card and saw her birthday I was momentarily lost for words.  I am ACTUALLY old enough to be her mother.  WAAAAAAAHHHHH! The last time I was employed at a uni library I was the same age as the kids studying there. Hell, I WAS one of the kids studying there! I was partying like it was 1999 (AND IT ACTUALLY WAS!) and working my way through some of the cute shelving staff. DON'T READ THIS MOM!  How things have changed. I'm reeling from the shock frankly.  In the last few months I've gone from working at an ARCHAIC and BUREAURATIC institution where I was still considered YOUNG and CRAZY HIP and OUT THERE, to a cosmopolitan educational institution where I am quite obviously OVER THE HILL.

These days I am;

a) carrying an extra 15kgs

b) embracing the FARSHON concept MATRONLY BOHO which frankly I just don't think the KIDS catch the vision of

c) married

d) a mother

e) battle hardened

f) newly attracted to LIQUID EYELINER

g) prone to making DAD JOKES when the kids come to the desk which CONFUSES and sometimes ENRAGES them

I KNOW! I can't really believe it either.

Here I am preparing to FREAK OUT THE KIDS at work, in a TYPICAL matronly boho ensemble, inspired by Stevie Nicks, Kate Bush and Kath and Kim. If I can't answer a question they ask me, I just whoosh my batwing sleeves around and jangle my bracelets at them until they go away.

Still, I imagine it's not bad practice for when I get out onto the front line in a school and am twenty times everyone's age and still trying to impress them by throwing YOUTH LINGO around and making awkward references to YOUTH CULTURE AND MUSIC and shouting things like "YOLO!" at them like it ain't no thang.

I already have the sense that this will be embarrassing for the teens to whom I inflict this on, and yet it still holds great attraction for me.  I can't wait to get my hands on a class full of spotty teens and start rapping sections of Macbeth or beat boxing underneath someone's monologue. THEY WILL LOVE IT!

And it's kind of fun being an objective observer in amongst the kids of today, because you get to watch their awkward attempts at flirtation with each other, the YOUTH FARSHON, and also I have easy access to lots of DVDs to borrow out. Winning!

One of the whippersnapper shelving staff (they are all students) casually revealed he was 21, and my jaw hit the floor. 

Whippersnapper: It totally sucks I don't get paid as much because of my age

Me: What do you mean? 

Whippersnapper: I'm only 21 you know

Me: [Shocked silence]

Whippersnapper: Yeah, and we are all going to be saddled with huge uni debts when everyone like you got their education for free

Me: Now steady on! I'm not THAT bloody old, mate!

We also had another awkward conversation about his studies.

Me: So, what are you studying?

Whippersnapper: International relations and law.

Me: Oh wow that is so cool! I studied international relations!

[Awkward silence as whippersnapper processes this information and struggles to conceal the disappointment in his face]

Me: Yeah, haha! I used to think I might work for AusAid one day. And now look at me! HAHAHAHA!

[Student fails to conceal the complex mixture of emotions he is feeling - fear that his future will mean he ends up back on the loans desk where he started, pity for me and my disappointing career, fear again, then embarrassment, then back to fear]

That's right, kids, I am the GHOST OF FUTURE YOU, ready to CRUSH YOUR DREAMS WITH A DOSE OF REALITY AND LOTS OF STORIES ABOUT MY SMALL CHILDREN AND THEIR AMUSING PENCHANTS FOR POO AND BUM JOKES!! Mwahahaha.

As well as obsessing about my age I have also been worrying myself SICK about my weight which has ONCE AGAIN notched up another few kgs. AARGH.

So I went and joined a gym.  I walked in with my LOUD floral leggins on, my 4.5 year old girl and B in a pram.  I got a small tour from a MUSCLED TYPE who I assume is what is known colloquially as a PERSONAL TRAINER.  He showed me that they had exercise bikes, cross trainers, weights, free weights and some other weird shit. I mean, was I meant to be impressed? It was a gym, right? I felt like perhaps I was missing something.

Here's me in my fancy leggings. They totally aren't ready for this jelly.

Me: Um, ok. Good-oh

Muscled Type: Yeah, and the {something something machine} does this, and that's really good blah blah

Me: [eyes glazing over} Mmmmhmmm

Muscled Type: So, how do you usually work out?

Me: I don't. 

Muscled Type: You don't what?

Me: I don't work out.

Muscled Type: [Shocked silence]

Me:  I do YOGA though.

Muscled Type: [Snorts] Oh RIGHT, YOGA!

Me: Ugh, it's GOOD for you!

Muscled Type: [Rolls eyes] Yeah, yeah, I know

Anyway, such was the level of my desperation to STRIP MYSELF OF FLAB that I signed up anyway.  Let's see how that goes.   

In other interesting news, I have gained inspiration from PINTEREST and repurposed our change table as a TEA AND COFFEE STATION, thereby reclaiming some bench space and simultaneously looking HIP and CRAFTY. What's not to like??

Aforementioned former change table. No more babies for us, just all the tea and coffee we can drink! 

How are you guys going? Joined a gym recently? Obsessed with your former youth? Repurposed the shizz out of anything interesting?

Mwah.

Where the actual is winter? And other complaints. LANGUAGE WARNING FOR DELICATE TYPES!

So life round these parts is generally pretty beautiful at the moment.  If our life was a meme it would look like this…

I have, however, had what can only be described as a BAD DAY today.  You can’t rest on your laurels, people. Bad days are hiding round corners in even the rosiest of rosy households!

Firstly, where the actual is winter? I mean come on.  On so many levels this weather is disconcerting to me. Disconcerting to the MAX.  I have broken out my jeans on NUMEROUS occasions, only to be confronted with scorching temperatures requiring the SHAVING OF LEGS and WEARING OF SUMMER DRESSES again.  I have put the DOONAS on the beds. DOONAS, PEOPLE!!! I have been schvitzing like a schmendrick. This endless summer is NO LAUGHING MATTER.  And furthermore, what about the polar caps, polar bears, and all things polar? I bet the water levels are rising at a rate visible to the naked eye now. I blame that schmuck Tony Abbott and all his ghastly cronies. DAMN YOU TONY YOU EVIL MISOGYNIST CLIMATE CHANGE DENIER. DAMN YOU TO HECK.

Secondly, my hair.  Let’s deal with that, shall we?  So I’ve made a sort of OUT OF LEFT FIELD and WACKY commitment to no longer using shampoo on my hair.  I know, crazy, right? The thing is, and bear with me here friends, I was getting millions of sores and scabs on my scalp. I HOPE YOU AREN’T EATING WHILE YOU READ THIS! And then I was picking them.  I KNOW! SO DISGUSTING! I am basically the grossest.  Anyway, as an attempt to remedy this ewky problem, I decided to; a) stop washing my hair so much, because I figured washing it too much was making it produce too much oil and then I was getting nasty pimply spots, and so forth, and b) when I DID wash it, I was to embrace the dictums of what is known colloquially as the “No ‘poo” movement, and use only bicarb soda and apple cider vinegar. Definitely no poo! I KNOW IT SOUNDS WACK! Maybe it is.  Anyway I am trying to get to the point where I only wash my hair once a week.  At the moment I can only make it about 3 days without wanting to shave it all off and sell it a la Cosette in Les Mis.  Or was it her teeth she sold? Actually I think it was Fantine not Cosette? Whatever, it’s gross. It’s greasy and itchy. What the fuck. Why I am I even putting myself through this horrendous ordeal?  It is a LIVING HELL PEOPLE.  

Thirdly, PARENTING. I am not PARENTING in a CONSCIOUS way at the moment. I am parenting in a fucking exhausted and half arsed manner whilst allowing the children to watch too much TV and checking the fadizzle out of my phone every two seconds just in case something DRAMATIC has occurred in those 2 seconds that I might not have known about. FUCKING SMART PHONES. FUCK THEM. I am really addicted to the fucking phone and it is affecting my LIFE MAN. My parenting, my motivation, my self esteem, GODDAMN EVERYTHING. What to do? I LOVE IT I HATE IT I LOVE IT I HATE IT.  Anyway, parenting is KICKING MY ARSE in other ways too. I am hardcore trying to live in the now and enjoy the moment with my beautiful 4.5 year old darling girl before I lose her to school next year, BUT OMFG IT IS HARD MAN. HARD HARD HARD at the moment.  Her relentlessnessness is EXHAUSTIPATING. She plays NEVER ENDING “Let’s pretend” games and forces me to join in. Forces me I tell you. I am a pawn in her Game of Thrones. She is like that creepy little boy king, whatsisname, and I am basically Ned Stark. With no head.  *sobs weakly*

Also, these things too;

•    My neverending cough that keeps me awake til the wee small hours
•   The federal budget – OMFG what can I even say about that
• Children being held in detention centres still. Fuck.
• My weight, my lack of exercise and my comfort eating.

As I said, it’s been a rough day.  Still, I have these awesome things to get me through;

• Not working at my old toxic workplace any more. Thank FUCK.
• Ben and Holly – best show on telly – “I’m an egg, I’m an egg!”
• Our beautiful garden. Delightful, I tell you!
• Op shopping. It’s like a drug.
• Getting fake nails with shellac. WHY HAVE I NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE OMG IT IS THE GREATEST
•   Discovering liquid eyeliner. SEE ABOVE POINT RE: shellac! OM to the mother-lovin G!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Now that’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.  Out with anger, in with love.

How are you all traveling? I care, I do. I really really do!