A relationship ends. Awkwardly. And in a drawn out fashion.

Since I was pregnant with B we have had a cleaner come once a fortnight to do the basics, you know, floors, bathrooms, blah blah.  It was $50 well spent. Oh how I love the feeling of a clean house but oh how I loathe cleaning it.

Tidying and prettifying I quite like. Fluffing cushions and putting flowers in a vase I am practically an expert in, but cleaning does not float my boat. I have lofty aspirations and it takes more than grovelling around on the toilet floor bleaching off stubborn stains to get me excited.

Don't get me wrong, I am no shirker. With a baby and a toddler there is always cleaning to be done and not a day goes by when I haven't vacuumed or swept the floor, cleaned the kitchen fifty times, put on and hung out twenty loads of washing, swished out the feral toilet, changed wet sheets, you name it. I also have a useful husband who, you know, crazily enough does plenty of house slaving too.

But once a fortnight I indulge in the luxury of paying someone else to do all that crap for us.
I would give up lots of things before I would give up the cleaner.

The problem was the cleaners gave up on us! How bloody rude. It was a mother and daughter team, and my first inkling that they were no longer enamoured of chivvying for our household was when the daughter got a part time job in a shop selling baby clothes.

I chose to ignore this traitorous extra work on the side and continued to text her the night before our cleaning day to ensure all was still on. Her replies became increasingly reluctant, starting with the occasional "can we swap days my manager needs me to work" and ending up with "no I can't come but maybe mum can?"

I became confused and a little needy. What was she trying to tell me? Was she trying to break up with me?

Were they still my cleaners or not? I felt hurt, then worried, then downright panicked.

Would I have to clean my own floors that week!?!? Surely not!!! That would be a crime against humanity indeed.

Anyway it seemed that the mother was still turning up and doing the house and pocketing the cash for the moment, albeit in a less fastidious fashion than in the early days of the relationship.

It all started really going belly up when the mother then went and got a job in a fruit shop. I tried to pretend I didn't care, that it was fine, I was sure she could still fit me in. Surely??? I mean, I gave them a box of Roses Chocolates at Christmas time!!! WHAT MORE DID THEY WANT FROM ME???

She texted me about a fortnight ago asking "Do you still need me to clean tomorrow?".

"Yes PLEASE!" I texted back enthusiastically, hoping to energise her with my upbeat manner and friendliness.
"M is home today with the baby who has a bit of a cold but he won't mind!!" I added.

There was quite a pause before her reply.

"Can we wait until the baby is better?"

My heart sank.
"Oh, ok. Maybe next week?" I replied hopefully.

"Yes no problem".

It was starting to look dangerously like I would have to weaken and wash the floors.  You will be pleased to know I resisted this urge courageously.

Next week rolled round and she did turn up and give the place a cursory sprucing. Cursory being the operative word.

The next fortnight I did my usual texting and her reply didn't arrive.
I left the key out and the money on the table in the optimistic hope that she would arrive and work her mediocre magic on the filth.

Later that day she finally sent me a message in reply to mine.

"I'm sorry I can't clean today I'm going to New Zealand for two weeks tomorrow and I'm really busy packing".

My heart sank again.
I guess I can take a hint.

"Ok. Well thank you I guess I'll find someone else", I replied.

No response.
Point taken.

It wasn't her, it was me.

I felt like weeping. I put a call for suggestions on FB and got a few names.
When I contacted one of them and she said she was available I felt overwhelming relief!
She came round to meet me at the beginning of last week. She was cheery and enthusiastic and full of advice. I could have kissed her.

When I told her that I usually left the key out for the cleaners under the doormat on our back patio, she looked horrified.
"Oh no love. No no don't put it there! My husband used to work in security so I know all about it. Oh that's very unsafe, especially in this suburb!"
She looked thoughtfully round the backyard and then said;
"Leave it there love. In the pot plant. Much safer. Yes that is MUCH safer".

Yeah because no one ever suspects the pot plant do they?!? Whatever, I was happy to do her bidding as long as she took me on.

Anyway today was cleaning day and I woke up extra early, full of excitement, like a kid on Christmas morning. I just knew that my firm position on refusing to clean the bathrooms or mop the floors would be justified when I came home tonight to a sparkling house.

I rang M while I was on the train on the way home, and he said "The house is perfect! She has done a great job! The kids and I are all here safe and sound."

"WONDERFUL!" I said with joy, "I cannot wait to see it!"
When I got back, I raced in the door to embrace the children briefly, then shoved them out of the way so I could get to the loo. It's a long trip OK?

As I raced in, I noticed a small pair of damp undies in a pile on the ground, and the distinct crunch of sandpit sand under my feet. I looked closer and noted the tell tale spots of wee that indicate a rushed toddler toilet visit.

Under the dining table were several pieces of scrambled egg, toast and plenty of squashed peas.  Toys lay scattered in both living areas.

I guess it probably looked good for about 5 minutes.  I hope one day I get to witness the house in its pristine state but it doesn't look like that will be any time soon.

At least there's no mould in the bathroom sinks now. 

Do you have a cleaner? Or do you enjoy wallowing in your own crapulence? Perhaps you like to sniff household bleach to forget your troubles?

Tell me everything!

The Slapdash Report: Election 2013 edition.

DISCLAIMER: This report is TOTALLY BIPARTISAN and APOLITICAL.

It's got bipartisan-ship and apolitical-ness-ism coming out the whazoo!!

SECOND DISCLAIMER: Some broad called Corinne Grant wrote this article in the Hoopla today, somewhat taking the wind out of my proverbial sails.  But I will carry on nobly, even though bitch stole my story.  I mean who is she anyway? Some nobody*.

Having this blog means that I can now live out my lifelong dream of becoming a famous and highly regarded election commentator and political analyst.  I've waited years to show up that cocky Antony Green character and now's my chance.  I don't know about you, but whenever he's on the telly, I have to fight back an overwhelming desire to shout things at him like "Would it KILL you to make a prediction Antony?! Take a risk!!!" and "Obviously the figures aren't in yet you dork!" and even "Damn your graphics to hell Antony why don't they EVER WORK!?!".

So move over dude, the Slapdash Report is here to tell it like it is.

I'm just going to apply my mad skillz at synopsis writing (as previously displayed here and here) to the cut and thrust of the political world, and make it accessible to the man on the street. Because there's a NICHE for this shizz, peeps, and I am exploiting it like there's no tomorrow. I'm taking my inspiration from everyone's favourite finance presenter Alan Kohler and his amusing graphs and chatty manner - he makes economics fun!  Oh clever me! No-one would ever have thought to write  and/or present an amusing synopsis of the week’s political events for the entertainment of others**. What a breath of fresh air I am.   That Walkley Award gets closer every day. 

So now for the weekly synopsis.

WARNING: This synopsis contains NOTHING MUCH.  Turns out I don't know anything about what the frig is going down policy wise. My bad. You'll just have to Google that shit this week.

• Tony Abbott didn't get the memo that Aboriginal people lived in Australia for a teensy while before Europeans turned up.

• Craig Thomson's faced court for a gazillion different fraud charges that all basically boil down to using the work credit card to pay for prossies and porn.  He denies it. Some peeps want him to resign from parliament.  He says hell no, he won't go.  To be continued...

• Nicola Roxon and Chris Evans, old stalwarts from Joolz' cabinet, have resigned.  High spirited scamp and renowned humourist Chris Pyne reckons it's starting to look like the last days of Hitler's government .  Nic and Chris say it's just that they are fucking tired of never seeing their kids.  Whatever.

• This has meant Joolz had to shuffle the cabinet around like a deck of cards (hey I bet nobody's used that analogy before!). 

• The latest poll showed the ALP are doing way worse than the last poll.  But then someone pointed out hardly anyone voted in the poll 'cos they were all battling fires and floods and famine and pestilence.  Make of that what you will.

• Federal Parliament had it's first sitting week of the year.  I know, how did you all miss that one!  I for one have been glued to the radio listening to Question Time like there's no tomorrow. I know how to enjoy myself.

• Some chancy buggers put a whole lot of bets on that the election would be called for September.  Wish I'd thought of it.  Nothing ever works out for me. Sob.

Some other shizz undoubtedly went down but I'm running out of steam so -  there's my first edition of the Slapdash Report aka the SPEED BLOGGER'S GUIDE TO POLITICS all finished.

Disappointed?  Enraged?  Feel it was lacking in depth and policy analysis? Me too!  I'll try harder next time.

Maybe.

*OK, I'm kidding.   Corinne Grant is obviously a super funny lady with plenty of political nous and a lot of cred.  And I am not.  Carry on.  Read her story though it is good.

**Editor’s note: Please don’t tell Sarah about the Daily Show, the Colbert Report, The Chaser, even that “brilliant” example of political satire “Pineapple Politics” in the Courier Mail, or actual excellent current affairs inspired blog The Tunnel Presents (or any other of the million examples of this genre).  She will totally lose it. And I’m a bit scared of her. Last week she threw her mobile phone at me when I told her there was an American blog already called “Slap Dash Mom”, and then she burst into hysterical tears until I placated her by firing some interns.  Let’s just keep this to ourselves, for my sake, please?

My week, a synopsis in photographs

I'm finding it difficult to get a moment to myself to write this blog.  So here's a speedy update on my week in photographic form, for those who are interested, although why you would be is anyone's guess!  I tried to start it twenty million times with P and B at my feet "writing" Christmas cards and so forth but not a moment's peace was to be had. I usually do as much as I can on my phone in any snippets of calm I have, but I still have to tweak it properly on the ole fashioned desktop computer.

I cannot work under these conditions people I AM AN ARTEEEESSST!

Also, I've been shamelessly flogging the blog around the traps and have successfully ensnared some new readers.  Hello to you all my new friends!

OK so here it goes for what it's worth.

• I invented a new word, sangry. You're sangry when you feel like this - 

Oh woe is me, I'm failing the kids, I'm an awful Mum, I'm never going to have a meaningful career, my daughter hates me, boo hoo hoo hoo 

        And then immediately feel like this - 

Grrrrr the house is so MESSY no matter what I do, I may as well be a frigging char lady, all I do is argue with the toddler and wipe arses, it makes me so MAD I WANT TO KICK A SMALL DOG BUT I CAN'T SO I'M JUST GOING TO SCREAM LIKE A BANSHEE AT MY HUSBAND!

 And then like this again -

Oh the world is so full of cruelty and horror, global warming, war, Tony Abbott, famine, misogyny, it's all too much, {sobs into pillow}.

Closely followed by - 

If I hear one more word about RADIO BROADCASTERS ACTING LIKE ARSES or if one more person bags out Julia Gillard JUST BECAUSE SHE IS A WOMAN WITH RED HAIR or if P does ANOTHER wee on the floor I am going to go OFF LIKE A FIRECRACKER OR AT THE VERY LEAST SCREAM LIKE A BANSHEE AT MY HUSBAND!!!

Sound familiar anyone?  We all get sangry from time to time.  Let it all out folks, breath out sangry, breathe in love.

• I remained more or less committeed to Fox in Flats #darecember. Get ready for some hardcore selfie action you guys.

Dress

Neck party

Red nail polish

Animal print

All black

Curls

•  This happened - 

Then this happened - 

Then this happened again - 

See "sangry" entry above for further details.

• Cute baby crap went down

Hee hee

Bless

•  This happened. For ages. WTF.

Sharpness of mind and clarity of thought, I has it.

•  I had a Tupperware party.  I know.

Wore this.

Baked this.

Scored free shit.

What have youse guys been up to?  Get about in mismatching clothes? Yell abuse at your husband?  Score some noice free plastic gear? I want to hear it all.

Things I am totally awesome at.

Whenever I'm feeling a bit down in the dumps, I like to do what the life coaches tell you, and run through a mental list of all the things I am TOTALLY AWESOME AT just to give myself a little boost.

- I'm really fantastic at devising arts and crafts activities for kids and I've even written a book about it called "Keep calm and carry on glitter glueing!"

P indulging in a bit of hardcore arts and crafts.  Actually this wasn't at my house.  Damn.

- I'm also rather an expert at coming up with awesomely creative ideas for kids meals, and it just so happens I've written a book on this topic too, called " Shut up and eat your chicken nuggets!"

B tasting some of my home made delights.  See the joy in his face? Warms the cockles of your heart...

- I've got a real natural talent for home organisation and interior design, and am regularly asked for advice from television show Better Homes and Gardens, and Martha Stewart even follows me on Twitter. I was the one who came up with those wedding pompom crepe paper bizzos everyone makes! I know, she totally owes me.

Martha is totally interested in collaborating with me on the above interior concept. I like to call it "All of the crap covering all of the bench".

- I have really superior willpower when it comes to junkfood. I've actually never eaten sugar in my life, generally preferring to snack on spirulina smoothies made with spinach, cacao, coconut water, wheat germ and other healthy shit.

As you can see my diet is hardcore vegan.

- I am really calm and relaxed all the time and have a positive approach to life. I meditate regularly and am often asked to talk to school groups about techniques for stress management , including crying, panicking, yelling, crying some more and rocking backwards and forwards in the foetal position. Works for me.

Me behaving maturely and calmly.

Looking on the bright side.

Coping with stress and extreme heat in a totally relaxed and positive way.

Going to my happy place.  Not at all sleep deprived and mental.

- I have finely tuned financial management skills. I invested the very first dollar I ever earned and the compound interest has really paid off. Now I have enough money to buy a small island of my own!

Me freestyling it real estate investment wise.

- I am very fit and passionate about sport of every description. This summer I am planning to participate in a triathalon, continue with my coaching at Little Athletics and will also be appearing at my very first body building meet! In preparation I will be eating nothing but tinned tuna and protein shakes with the occasional bowl of boiled rice. I've even designed my very own string bikini for the event, and had my tracksuit stencilled with my motto
"Go hard or go home and have a Gin and Tonic".

Just doing some training wearing highly appropriate exercise gear and shorts that are not too revealing of chubby white legs at all.

Just going hardcore off-road cross country style wearing similar appropriate attire.  I'm a slave to fitness I tell you.

- Last but not least, I am always being invited to glamorous social events where I'm inevitably the life and soul of the party and always dressed to the nines in the latest fashions.

Don't ask.

So much to live for! If I didn't have such a large entourage already vying for my attention, I'd totally want to be my own best friend too!

Linking up with Grace for FYBF!!

Walk on by. Melbourne Cup.

So my injured toe still hurts, probably because I didn't actually do anything to help it heal like tape it to its larger neighbour as advised by that esteemed medical professional Dr Google.  So I haven't been running. Or even getting off the couch much, ha!  Look it's not all doom and gloom,  I did manage a couple of walks over the last week.  The other day I took myself off to tramp the picturesque avenues of our bogan suburb and made a brief foray into one of the streets with slightly older (ie more than 5 years old) and fairly unloved houses.  This is the kind of vignette I am confronted with around these here parts...

A high class beverage juxtaposed with...

Some high class undies.  The mind boggles.

As I was just getting into it, with a spring in my step and a twinkle in my eye, I was accosted by a small and shaggy mutt who came bounding along at full tilt and jumped upon my person.

"Oh good Lord," I thought as I tried to extricate myself from the eager beast, who was pawing me and wagging its tail and grinning, "Why does this sort of stuff always happen to me.  This is why I never exercise."  I tried to catch the eye of a man sporting a high vis jacket in his garage, to ascertain if this was his animal, but he assiduously ignored my pleading expression and promptly headed off in his utility vehicle at high speed. Coward.  Anyway, I gently kicked the beast off my legs and attempted to keep walking, pretending I wasn't being followed by a small and desperate dog.  Finally I grudgingly bent down to check its collar - of course there wasn't one.  So I did what any respectable citizen would do - I turned on my heel, and walked quickly the other way.  I cast one glance back over my shoulder to see the small animal standing staring mournfully at me.  I kept going until I was well round the corner.

"Yes!" I thought. "I've given it the slip!"

I continued on my merry way, waving neighbourly hellos, until all of a sudden I heard a thuddida, thuddida, pant, pant, pant!  And I was again barrelled into at full speed by the poor abandoned canine.

"Shit and bum," I muttered.
There was no escaping my civic duty now, no matter how hard I tried.  So I did what any actually properly good citizen should do.  I scooped the little creature up into my arms and kept walking.  There were a couple of slack-jawed yokels in their garage, so I asked them if they recognised the dog.  They answered in the negative.  There wasn't anyone else around so I made the hike all the way back home with the bloody dog in my arms.  Let me tell you it was no mean feat.  Thank goodness I am used to lugging a toddler around or I would have collapsed and would have been in need of rescuing myself.  I phoned ahead to warn M of what was about to arrive at home, lest he think I had finally gone totally mental.  When I got home, we put the dog out in the backyard so it didn't freak out our already fairly neurotic cat.  P was keen to come and see the dog, but we all went inside so we didn't frighten it.  I was just Googling the animal control number, when M went outside to check on it, and the ridiculous creature had vanished.  I ran out the front to see if it was on the street, and it was totally gone.  Ungrateful wretch.

I felt sad. I'd grown fond of it during the 15 minutes it had spent in my arms.  So I rang the council anyway, just to let them know in the hope they could find it and take it home.

I went for a walk again yesterday, and when I returned P said, "Did you find the little doggy Mummy?"
"No," I answered.
"Oh", she said, lip quivering.  I faffed on and told her it had gone back to its own people and its own house.  I hope it has, and that it isn't still wandering the streets or on death row at the pound.

In slightly more glamorous news, I had a couple of fellow llaaaadddiiieeessssssshhhhh round for a bit of lunchie poo for the Melbourne Cup, it was gggrrreeeeaaassshh.....

I asked M to print out some pictures so I could hang them up round the place to create ATMOSPHERE.  I think he did well in his selections.

Why, hello Megan Gale!

Looking good Miranda.

Oh, you know, just hanging out with Jen and Snoop.

I made a sign to stick out the front.

Doesn't it just make you feel like you are THERE?! Who needs the Emirates tent!

 After the guests went home I stuck the poster on our bedroom door, just to jazz shit up and add a bit of SPICE! That's how I roll.  M was suitably, er, bemused is probably the best word.

Me wearing my only racewear appropriate head thingie. From high class establishment Diva.  I get this baby out every year.  Next year I might lash out and treat myself to a new one from, I don't know, maybe Target?

Did everyone have a nice Cup?  Ever stolen a dog?  What's the latest?

Things I like.

I'm wondering if I've over committed somewhat to the blog, with my grand plans of a daily post just to get in the groove.  Still, I'm soldiering on.  Because the blog is mine, and I am the star of it, I thought I'd talk about stuff I like.

OK, here's my list.

Things I like, in descending order according to the amount of space they take up in my head.

1.  Clothes.  I don't care if it makes me sound vacuous, I spend nearly all my time thinking about clothes.  I'm sick of people who think you can't be smart and interesting if you like thinking about clothes.  Up yours, I say.  A good outfit can lift the day from the mundane to the somewhat less mundane.  I'm not afraid to evangelise about this to people either.  My recent discovery that even though I am generous of thigh and buttock, I can still wear a coloured skinny jean is a good example.  Get on board everyone.

2.  Reading.  If I was a more noble creature, this would be up there as number one, but as I said before, honesty is the best policy.  I also have to admit that since having babies I read less improving literature and more, shall we say, light material.  I've also discovered that my recent entry into motherhood has made me too thin skinned for anything disturbing, so I've curtailed my reading to the following genres:

      a)  Historical romance (think Philippa Gregory, Georgette Heyer)
      b)  Detective fiction  (Think Ladies Detective Agency here)
      c)  Fantasy novels  (Currently reading the Game of Thrones trilogy)
      d)  Humorous memoirs (David Sedaris, I'm looking at you).
      e)  Cookbooks (Nigella and Nigel, two of my faves)
      f)   Blogs

Maybe one day I'll get back to Crime and Punishment, but frankly, my addled and sleep-deprived psyche just can't take the pace at the moment.

My husband, despite being equally as befuddled and sleep deprived, makes more of an effort than I with his reading.  This is his latest library selection...

And this is mine...

I don't know what he sees in me really.

3.  Food.  Perhaps I should be even more precise and say, eating.  But no, actually I like cooking too.  I do, however, make a distinction between the fancy pants cooking I used to do before children and the grinding daily chore that is making dinner for a family.  Not the same.  I love to bake cakes, faff about with icing and so forth, but you can't live on cake alone, more's the pity.  I read cooking books all the time (see above), and then make the same old crap night after night.  Sound familiar?

4.  Lying about and/or sleeping.  If you ask me, doing nothing is underrated in this day and age.  It's only now when my days of lazing about are long behind me that I realise their worth, and mourn them.  Oh how I look back on those times and smile.  Halcyon weekends, where I could sleep in til lunchtime, read all day, mooch about, watch the Sunday Afternoon Arty Farty program on the ABC, indulge in a few cheeky wines with M before dinner, and so on and so forth.  Probably once upon a time, I would have said that getting up early was one of my favourite things to do.  I can tell you now, that was foolish talk, and I want to go back in time and take the old me by the shoulders and give her a damn good shaking.  Waking up early - pfft!  I've had more than enough of that over the last 3 years, thanks very much.

5.  TV.  I realise the inclusion of telly on the list is probably a bit controversial.  But that's me, always rocking the boat with my crazy ideas.  I love a good TV program.  Some of my absolutely best memories are watching fantastic TV with people I love.  Some of the highlights of my telly viewing life are:
      a)  The House of Eliott:  (We're two sisters in London, we're in reduced circumstances, we  start a fashion house, we have romantic entanglements)
     b)   Pride and Prejudice:  (I'm one of four sisters in Regency England, we're in reduced circumstances, we have romantic entanglements, some guy gets his shirt wet)
    c)   Little Dorrit:  (I'm one of three children in 1800s London, my father's in prison, we're in reduced circumstances, there's a mystery, I have a romantic entanglement).

You are probably sensing a theme here.

Recent shows I've enjoyed or am currently enjoying include such programs as QI, Gardening Australia, Grand Designs and Downton Abbey.  I would once have expressed a devotion to watching The News and Current Affairs Programs, however please refer to my previous point regarding serious reading as the same principle applies to my tv viewing.

6.  Gardening.  People who know me in person will probably think this is quite amusing since our garden has looked pretty awful for a while, but I do actually genuinely love to get out in the garden.  When I do it.  If I was more organised and energetic I'd be out there all the time.  Here is some photographic evidence of past gardenly achievements.

Our baby vege garden in 2010.

Our baby, with vege garden, in 2010

Some spoils from the garden back then

A cheerful brassica

Give peas a chance

Indoctrinating P into the ways of the garden.  When I was pregnant with B last year some time.

What do you guys like?  Anyone else into chilling out on the couch with a cheeky chardonnay and a spot of 18th century French autobiographical literature, or is it just M?  Anyone with bad taste in reading material, or is it just me?