The Lost Rant

Yesterday I wrote a really long ranty post about stuff that is going on in my life. The overall theme was that there are forces trying to bring me down, but I won't let them. It was wonderful! I vented without naming names and felt it was something I wanted to put out there.

Then Blogger attacked!!

My wonderful new post (the first in about 6 months - OMG!) was eaten, lost, removed I to the vortex of cyber space or where ever it is that good blog posts go. In fact I'm not even sure if this post will make it to published stage... If you're reading this, let me know!

Withdrawls

This is a post dedicated to a friend who is currently going through a life change. A change that is affecting her mental health and making her question things she might not normally question. A change she is going through without friends or family by her side (ok you've probably made new friends, but I'm not there). My friend is suffering. She is behaving in more often than normal unusual behaviours, suffering from shakes and emotional mood swings. She is giving up sugar.

And for whatever reason she feels it's best for her to give up the sweet, sweet goodness of sugar, I support her.

May the force be with you!

Size (doesn't) Matter

This post has been rattling around in my head for awhile now. That's because I've had many of these moments. The moments I'm talking about, are the moments of shocked surprise whenever I reveal my dress size.


This is a post about body image.


Everyday you're seen by others. And you're seen through eyes holding onto any number of personal baggage items. I have found, if your personal body gripe is your big butt, every other woman is looked at and seen for the shape of her butt (be it bigger, smaller, shapelier etc than yours). One of mine is as a blonde, the most stunning people I see are brunettes. It's all about wanting what you don't have. Straight haired girls are always telling me how fantastic my curls are and how they wish they had half the volume I do. You know what I'm talking about.


So what are these moments I'm talking about? Well let me explain. Firstly know that I consider myself in the realm of "normal". BMI does not. But in my opinion the people behind the BMI are bloody minded idiots. I'm not a size 6, nor am I a 26. I'm somewhere in between. And while I would love to lose a few kilos (ok a lot of kilos) I'm working on highlighting the areas I'm pleased with and hiding the ones I'm not.


Wearing skin tight clothing does not suit my shape. Wearing clothes that draws attention to the areas I love about myself makes me feel beautiful. Especially if commented on those areas. So that's what I do.


Tips from my mother:

• Don't get hung up on the size. Sizing is just a number. Wear what you're comfortable in that suits your shape. One size in one store is completely different in another.
• If half a size bigger looks better, do it!
• Don't wear the latest fashion if it doesn't suit you. Know what flatters your shape and embrace your beauty

Enjoy your body. Embrace your beauty. Know that the thing about yourself you hate, someone else loves. This is know to be true. I have always hated my nose. Not in a "must do something to fix it NOW!" way, but in a "meh" kinda way. My husband doesn't believe there is anything to hate about my nose and when both our girls were born wasted no time in telling my that our perfect baby angels did indeed have the same nose as me. A nose, which looks delightfully button like on their adorable little faces.


Of all the posts I've written, I hope this is one of the ones that my daughters find when they google me in the future. If it is, I have this message for them:


Ava & Lily - Believe in yourselves! Love yourself first and others will love you in return. You are both beautiful, amazing, curious and intelligent. The world is yours to explore and discover and I love you both endlessly xx

Loving Life... In the most mundane ways

This is my year to love life. The embrace those people around me who love me for me. I've been working on the compelling need to do huge spring cleans before visitors drop by, instead deciding that this is my filthy castle and I'll live here happily if I want to (I still do a mini spring clean before guests come by but I'm getting there). I've been spending time with people who want to spend time with me, and still there are people who know I'm thinking of them and who I know are thinking of me that I haven't caught up with yet. 

I've been trying not to bring home any bad vibes from work. Work this year has been stressful and trying and at time, utterly unbelievable, but for the most part work stays at work. To balance the stress at work I've been doing more school drop offs. Enjoying the more relaxed mornings and spending more time with my girls.

When the girls are in bed and the prep for tomorrow is done, you could find me reading or knitting or doing a cross stitch (geez I'm hardcore). But in my own ways I'm loving life and that is this years mission.

Hope you're loving life too

xx

Resolutions and Revelations

Well now almost a month has passed on this new year and I still haven’t blogged yet. But never fear, I’m correcting that now. And this blog, regardless what the title implies, isn’t another New Year’s resolution blog about how I’ve resolved to lose weight (yearly standard), drink less (that’s just silly) or have children (been there, done that). This is a blog about my much bigger resolution than any of those…

A revelation has slowly over time been dawning on me, people.  The revelation that the people in your life don’t always stay the same people you thought they were, or grow at the same rate you grow. Growing old is mandatory, growing up is optional. But what happens if the people around you don’t grow up as you do? Should you run the gauntlet of trying to pull that person up to whatever stage in life you’re at? Or struggle to find common ground as your life charges on ahead along one path and theirs along another? Or is there another option?

So this year with the aid of my slow-growing revelation, my resolution is to enjoy whatever stage of life I’m at and not make apologises for it to anyone. I chose this life and I’m going to love living it!

The Bogan Box Set

This was going to be a simple post about how much I hate some popular car stickers, but while writing it I discovered it’s more a post about judgment.

It’s true. I hate some of the currently popular car stickers. And while it is your free choice to put one of those stickers on your car, it is my choice is judge you. Let me explain…

 Frangipani, No Fear, JetPilot, Silver ferns, Southern Crosses and Playboy Bunny stickers started it off. Totally bogan and completely judged. They explain to the rest of society just what sort of person you are.  And I can say this having driven (my husbands) VP Commodore emblazoned with JetPilot on the rear window for a number of years.  

Then there were the My Family stickers. Now while I’m happy enough for parents to have those “Baby on Board” stickers or hanging things in their cars, I’m sure they’re put there in the hopes that if your car was skidding uncontrollably down the road and you had the choice of smashing into one of two cars, you’d steer towards the one without the “Baby on Board” sign (hopefully). But the My Family stickers upset me. When they exploded themselves all over a large number of rear windows around the place my first thought was for the families who couldn’t have children. Here were these other child abundant families parading around their insane number of children. I felt sad for the childless families. My attitudes shifted slightly when I realised that there were a large number of families driving around with the same father, mother, son or daughter as so many other families. I mean exactly the same family member as so many other families. How is that possible? It’s insane! And just as insane are the people who have a picture representing themselves and their pets. A single woman and 12 turtles. Worse still, a single person and 20 fish bowls.  I’ve seen it. Or just a pet picture. What are you? A horse?!  I think it’s just stupid. Which is why you won’t ever see a My Family sticker on my car. Ever.

I could keep going.  Window flags, reindeer antlers, red noses, eyelashes… the list of bogan car accessories just keeps getting bigger.

Seriously?!

But onto the judgment. Why should I judge someone who has one of those bogan stickers on their car? Why do I even consider them bogan stickers? Why do I judge that girl wearing leggings as pants? Furry ugg boots and short shorts? Any guy wearing jeans tighter than mine? I don’t know, but I do. I’d would have told you I’m a pretty non-judgmental person. In fact a friend of my husband came out to me before Patrick (who he’d been friends with forever) because I’m “alternative and will get it”. But to kill my lovely non-judgmental buzz, there’s Patrick who when I mention my non-judging attitudes scoffed and accused me of being a bitch. A bitch?! You really think so?  I’m not a bitch. I just comment honestly on what I see and think. Sometimes too honestly. But I’m not one for stirring up controversy.  I won’t say something just to upset someone or to stir trouble. Ok, there was that one time at the local pub though… I expressed my opinions of the pub & its clientele (to my friends) but unfortunately it was heard by the local bar fly and well, things got ugly.

And I’m happy to agree to disagree. Just don’t try to win your point over on me if I’m not into it. You’re just inviting a whole world of trouble you don’t want start and cementing my disdain of you for a lifetime to come.

So call me a judgmental bitch if you want. It’s your choice to judge me. But unless I’ve judged you harshly, I’d rather you thought I was opinionated!  

Man Land, Reborn

The History of Man Land:

We moved into our house about 5 years ago. At that time, it was November, it was the hottest Summer on record and I was very pregnant with our first child. We had previously lived in a 1.5 bedroom flat. Perfect for our life back then, but not where we wanted to raise our child. So we found the house. It was big! It had bedrooms, a double garage, a rumpus room and a shed. A very big shed.

Not being boats or caravan people (and having previously come from a very tiny flat) we didn’t have much to put in the shed but over time that changed. In the beginning we used it as storage. Anything that didn’t fit in the house went in the shed. Anything useful or potentially useful went in the shed. And anything friends or family couldn’t store went in the shed.

Shortly after our daughter was born, Patrick realised his life long dream of owning a pool table. We had discussions where the table should go. In the shed and start the creation of Man Land? Or in the rumpus room and start a “pool room”? Both were good options but hindsight is a marvelous thing. I was a new mum, I was sleep deprived and I was mentally in love with my tiny daughter. There was no way I was going to leave her sleeping in the house while I went out to the shed to shoot some pool. Patrick’s motives were slightly more concerned with his new “baby”. He couldn’t even think of putting the pool table out in the shed. It belonged in the rumpus room/pool room and that was the final word. And so the pool room was born.

Years passed with BBQ’s and pool games. Lily was born and Ava was growing fast. Baby items were stored in the shed, along with 2nd hand furniture that might come in handy and furniture of friends/family moving house. And there were toys. Lots of toys! As the girls grew up, pool games stopped being so frequent. Patrick was concerned that they would damage the table unintentionally and it was getting harder to play a proper game around all the toys. At different times we discussed moving the pool table into the shed, but Patrick wouldn’t hear of it.

Until one day, frustrated with all the dolls, prams, Barbie’s and little girls toys taking over the lounge room, Patrick declared “This is ridiculous! The girls need a play room!!”

And so Man Land was reborn.

It took some time, and a lot of orginisation but we are well on our way. And if anyone ever asks you to help them move a pool table, say no! It took 5 adults and not just a few cross words & eye rolling moments to move the table from the rumpus into the shed. I’ve set the goal to be completed by Christmas and I’m pretty certain we’ll make it. Man Land will be an ongoing process though. Continually adding extra bits here and tweaking things there. But it will be a fun ride.