Life & other interruptions

OMG!
What?
It's been a month since I blogged last! How could I have let that happen?!?

Well here's the thing, I've been meaning to blog before now but a little thing called Life got in the way. No excuses really but I offer the following as a run down of the goings on in my life, if you're interested.

To kick off I'd like to work backwards. Because frankly, it's easier to remember that way. And even though my girls are 3 and 5 years old, I still suffer from mummy brain. So just go with me on this.

Child Care

Most recently, one of my major daycare providers has gone on holiday. A big, international holiday. And while I'm super stoked for her and the international things she'll buy me, it has left a very large chuck of child minding to fill. Our secondary childcare providers have been wonderful in stepping up to the task of extra days a week etc and the girls have adapted to more days in care, earlier mornings and a slightly more stressed mummy. So far things are going pretty well. I'm managing to juggle both working in a new role and added school pick up/drop off without too much drama. Fingers crossed!

Promotion

In the last month I got a promotion! I've gone from being one of the team to running a team and it's working out really well. My team have said I'm friendly and approachable and as far as I can tell I'm not making any major errors! To secure my status as boss lady extraordinaire today I took in chocolate brownies for morning tea. Oh yes, complete with 100's and 1000's. Life is good.

End of Financial Year / Tax time

Dreaded for anyone in the financial sector (me), even more extreme if you work part time but have to meet end of month deadlines (me) and chuck in family illness (bloody man flu hit our house) and you've got the makings for a seriously stressful time. I'd like to think I handle stress well. That is until it builds so much that it explodes in an ugly mess of screaming tantrums (mine). This EOFY there were no tantrums. Phew I hear you sigh. Well yes, but while there weren't any tantrums from me, the same can't be said for Patrick or the girls.

So that's a brief summary of my past month and hopefully explains my laziness in full. If you follow me on Twitter you'll get much more frequent updates of the goings-on in my life so start following along! Otherwise, now things are somewhat settled I aim to blog to you all much more often.

Mummy of a different name...

Let me start this by stating I am not an animal person. It's not that I don't like animals, it's just that animals and I have never really bonded.

My animal ownership is very limited. When we were little we had a English Settler x Sheep Dog. A lovely black and white puppy that liked to share lemonade ice blocks and chew my barbies to pieces. She also loved to chase us around. And because she was so big, and we were so small, she bowled us over and the "games" always ended in tears. In the end (when my sister was born) we gave her to a farmer. No she didn't "go to the farm" but yes, she did go to the farm. We visited her. She loved it.

The next pets I remember are in no particular order because they all ranked equally boring in my outlook. There was a few budgies, some peach faced loved birds, gold fish, a cat called Sandy and various chickens.

The cat called Sandy "belonged" to my sister. As did the birds. I think of all our pets I liked Sandy the best. I get cats. They love a cuddle but are cool enough to do their own thing. And they seem sneaky which is cool. Sandy was run over on Christmas Eve when we were out visiting friends.

The chickens were practical. We had a number of them over the years. They ate our scraps and gave us eggs. Winning. But they ran at me while I tried to collect the eggs and threatened to peck me, so I didn't like them much. Also, my chicken died in the Great Flood. That is, the great flood of our chook pen.

Since moving out of home I've had a number of fighting fish. They were pretty cool and seemed to have a good life innings. Until one died on my birthday. That was the end of fish ownership.
  
The kids ask for a puppy all the time but I just know it will be me looking after it, and frankly I can't be bothered. I'm sure if given the chance though, I'd be quite the animal person... actually I doubt that.

But this blog wasn't intended to be a boring run down of my tragic pet history. It was intended to be about the crazy dog lady I've seen recently and the subject of "Fur Mummies".

I don't get fur mummies. I understand people having pets and treating them a their "children" until they have human babies. These pets tend to receive the affection a human baby would get until a human baby comes along. I understand people who choose not to have children and have pets instead, and I understand people who sadly can't have children and opt have pets instead.

But I don't understand people treating their pets exactly as you would a human baby. I have friends who buy their pets Christmas presents. That's cool. Pets need things. But don't go to extreme. It's the people (like the lady in my neighbourhood) who pushes her ugly, squashed up pug dog in a baby's pram and takes him for walks. Seriously, if your dog can't walk, why push it around in a pram? If someone can explain it to me that would be great.

Until then I'm going to continue to be amazed and somewhat disturbed by this crazy lady.

Technology fail

Me: "Fuck, fuck, fuckity fucking stupid piece of fucking shit"
Patrick: "Is everything ok?" He knows me so well
Me: "Isn't this supposed to be easy? This isn't easy. Why isn't this stupid thing connecting? Or downloading? Where's my fucking download?!"

Oops - Language warning: This blog contains language unsuitable for children or ladies.

I've blogged before about generations and where I fit in. Technically I should fit into the so-called 'technology generation' but today, and against all my best attempts, technology beat me.

I resisted getting an in car navigation system for ages. I didn't need one, I had a street directory. I could read maps and drive and find my way anywhere. Anywhere. And if the place I wanted to go wasn't in my street directory, well it could go to hell. My lovely husband Patrick was keen to get a sat nav system. He researched them, spent hours looking at them, and generally annoyed the crap out of me talking about them. I avoided buying him one for Christmas only to have him give me on for my birthday in January. Gee, thanks babe.

I resisted using it. I still had my trusty old street directory so I was sweet. Until the day I borrowed my mums car and used her sat nav. Life changing day. Well, not quite life changing but it got me thinking about my new birthday sat nav. I did like that there was someone in the car who directed me to where I had to be, but I didn't like the feeling of generally having no clue where I was or how to get home. It was on this occasion that I was traveling over the other side of town, in an area I could get to with my brilliant written down directions as long as I saw the landmarks (there's the church with the weird tree, there's the strawberry farm, there's the BP, we're here!)

So to Patricks gloating glory I started using my sat nav on journeys I would have previously checked the street directory. And I liked it. It was easy. I could just press a few buttons and I knew how long it would take and which was the quickest way to get there. Things had been going fine with me and the sat nav.

Until today. Today I decided that it was time to fancy up my lovely little sat nav. Now being somewhat part of the technology generation I figured this wouldn't be too difficult. Just plug it in and click download. But no. The program didn't like that both Patrick and I have accounts, it didn't like that we have 2 different versions because our sat nav systems required different ones, and it didn't like me. I'm positive that plays a big part, the computer and sat nav system ganged up on me and threw a technology hissy fit. So I threw one back.

I uninstalled, reactivated, reset and did everything I could think of to beat this f*%king system. And I made some headway. I downloaded successfully. I downloaded to Patricks account successfully. I installed new programs successfully. Things seemed good. Until I turned on the sat nav to select the new fancy voice over I'd downloaded. Nothing. Nada. Just the same old voices from yesterday. Where was my Snoop Dogg???

It took a fair more amount of time, and plenty of swearing, until I found the words I'd dreaded. "Premium voice services are not available on the following systems:...XXX.... Mine.... XXX"  

Well fuck it.

And after all this swearing and carrying on, guess who's sat nav now has Snoop Dogg directing them? Fo shizzle my pizzle. Yeah, Patrick.

Side note: Mum if you read this, sorry xx

Hey Jerk Face!! - This lady has road rage

I'll admit that I suffer the occasional case of road rage. No, road rage is the wrong term. It invokes ideas of crazy people with baseball bats and death wishes. Let's go with traffic induced frustrations. However, ask my passengers and they'd probably say it's more often than occasional but what do they know. Truth is I like driving. I have no problems with sitting in traffic (unless I have to be somewhere, like $1 every minute late charging daycare or something) and am generally pretty mellow. But there is one thing that really pisses me off. And it's not even a law breaking thing. It's a courtesy. A freaking courtesy!

Wave dammit!!

It's the wave. You know the scene, where the traffic has to zipper merge in (letting one car in for every car already in the lane) or where a lane ends etc. Now it's a courtesy to wave to the car behind that let you in. It's not required by law, but it is a freaking courtesy. I could have speed up jerk and not let you in. I could have. But I didn't. I let you in, and you should wave your thanks. I always wave thanks. I have to stop myself waving thanks when the other car has to give way to me by law. I'm just that friendly. My kids think it's weird that I'm constantly waving to strangers but I'm teaching them about courtesy. And karma.

For a second I'll seriously think twice about letting you in again if you didn't wave the first time. For fear of damage to my car though I will let you in if traffic permits, but you'll get the worst scowl I can manage.

So if you let me in while driving around you know I'll give you a cheery thank you wave. And if I let you in.... I expect the same back.

Christmas in July

Ok, so the title might make you cringe (honestly, who wants a reminder that Christmas is less than 6 months away by having a Christmas party??) but it seemed fitting. Christmas in July because it's about this time of year that I start looking at the Christmas toy sales and layby.

Attention: Stop reading now if A) you're a child, or B) you're an adult that hasn't yet received the talk about Santa.

You've been warned.

So it's about this time of year that the major store have their toy sales and flog the idea of layby now for Christmas. A genius idea if you don't have a massive purse of cash in December, are time poor and crowds freak you out, or you have small, inquisitive children who feel that any area of the house is theirs to explore. I'm all 3. I have small children, limited storage space at home, no massive purse of cash in December and am very, very alone time poor. So Christmas layby it is. And this year I have discovered that one of the stores has a magical system of ordering anything you like from the catalogue online, print it out, take it to the layby counter and ta-da! you're done. Simple, effective and working mum friendly.

The catalogues arrived today and I asked the girls (3 and 5 years old) to go through and pick out what they would like to ask Santa for. Combined I think they racked up about $7000 worth of stuff, so while I struggle to find the balance between wanting to give them everything and the desire to not fill the house with more crap I thought I'd share my Christmas wish list (as it stands today).

A family holiday somewhere warm

A night out with friends... with lots of cocktails

New iPhone upgrade

Jimmy Choo heels - to wear on nights out



Black Lash Blast mascara



Black Dramatic Effect Eyeliner



Red lipstick

A letter to Tallulah (alt title: A Mother's Hope)

Tallulah is only a small girl now but this letter is for her 18th birhtday. To explain what she will probably know, from the observations of a friend outside her family. Tallulah's mother gave me her blessing to publish this, wishing to bring hope to someone in the same situation as she was.

 Dear Tallulah,

Happy 18th birthday sweetheart! On this very important milestone I wanted to tell you just how special and loved you are and share with you the journey of your being here.
I met your mum and dad when my first baby was only tiny. Tania and I worked together and it was clear how much she and your dad Andrew both loved being involved in the lives of their friends, and how much they enjoyed having children around. There was nothing they wouldn't do for their friends, and Aunty Tan and Uncle Andy were some of the best non-family family you could ever find.

But there was a sadness in them. While they loved the children of their family and friends, they longed for a child of their own. Years of natural techniques weren't working for them and since they had so much love to give, they turned to fostering children. Foster children don't come for happy, safe, stable homes like yours and well it takes a special kind of person to take on that responsibility. It was about this time that my second daughter was born. All through my pregnancy Tania was there cheering me on, asking how I was feeling and rubbing my belly at every opportunity she got! She loved to talk to my belly and was as excited as I was. Still, at this time with an oversupply of love and a desire to hold their own baby in their arms, your mum and dad turned to IVF.

IVF was a technique and experience that I had never had. I was thrilled when your mum and dad told me there were going through IVF and cheered them at every step. Listening through the horrific "harvesting" stories and wishing and praying with them for the baby to "stick". It was early in the IVF process that I gave your mum a medallion and prayer card of St Gerard Majella. He is the patron saint of mothers, mothers-to-be and birthing. I had worn and carried a medallion during both of my pregnancies and continue to do so. If prayers were to be said, we said them to him. Time and time again we hoped and prayed, but to no avail. The heartbreak your parents felt was tangible. It was devastating to us all that such beautiful, wonderful people couldn't be parents. It was with uncertainty that I visited your mum (with two small daughters in tow) and an incredible need to not upset her further with a reminder of what wasn't hers. Tania is an amazing woman though. She would ask to postpone visits if she was having a sad day, but still loved to see my girls and enjoyed sharing their lives on her good ones. After many unsuccessful rounds of IVF and many, many prayers to St Gerard (and who ever else listens) Tania and Andrew finally gave up what they felt was their final chance at parenthood and worked towards accepting their fate. They battled on together, some sad days and some good, and continued to enjoy the role of Aunty and Uncle in my daughters lives.

One day some months later, I suddenly received a text message from your mum. The message simply read, "How would you like to be an Aunty?"

Immediately I was on the phone finding out the meaning of this cryptic text message. An Aunty? To who, Sophie the dog?? But no, the unbelievable had happened. After all the years of struggling with illness, stress and disappointment of IVF, Tania and Andrew had conceived a baby. You hear about it often. A couple unexpectedly and naturally falling pregnant after giving up their unsuccessful IVF dream, but when it happens to someone you know the joy is unbelievable. I was thrilled! All the joy I had experience was finally going to be experienced by your mum. All the stories and wonder I'd share with her, she was going to be able to share with me. She was going to have a little girl all of her own.

Nine months later, you beautiful Tallulah were born. It's an understatement to say you're loved. You are beyond loved. And I'm sure you've grown into an amazing young woman, full of hopes and dreams and endless potential. And I bet if you ask your mum today, she's tell you she's still carrying that St Gerard Majella medal and prayer card with her. All our prayers weren't in vain, no matter how much at the time we thought no one was listening. Some one was, it was just that the time wasn't right.

That's the story of how you came to be. You are a joy and precious miracle and offer hope to others who are in the same situation as your parents.

Happy Birthday Tallulah!

With much love and special wishes,

Aunty Beth

Us and Them

Admit it, you're either Us or Them. Most people refer to themselves as Us and everyone else is Them. Either way, everyone identifies themselves from one camp or another. You're either QLD or NSW, State School or Private, Heavy Metal or Pop, Today or Sunrise... North or South. And it's a comment about the latter that prompted this blog.

In Brisbane there seems to be a definite divide between North and South. It makes sense that the dividing line is the river. So for arguments sake, let's say the river is the divide.

So I'm Northside. Always have been and in my heart, always will. I grew up here. I still live here and all my oldest friends are here. I went to school here, went to parties here and know my way around with confidence. Give me almost any Northside suburb and I'll find it, even if I haven't been there before. I'll generally know where abouts it is or what it's near. Without a map I'd probably even get pretty close to most of them. The roads don't bother me, going out at night doesn't bother me and the public transport doesn't bother me (aside from general public transport issues for another blog).

Growing up it seemed that all the crime in Brisbane was committed on the Southside. Sure that's grossly inaccurate but to the 8 year old me, that's how it seemed. And I'm sure my friends thought the same. We heard rumours of certain Southside suburbs, suburbs you'd never go to during the daytime, let alone the night. If by chance you did find  yourself there, you'd lock your doors and drive as quickly through as you could. When we hit our teens and started going to parties, if the venue was South of the river it was a no go. Driving on the Southside is a nightmare. The roads are strange and the drivers don't seem to know where they're going. When my brother was in a bash car rally out near Ipswich a girlfriend and I went to watch. It was a great day watching boys drive around in muddy, beaten up old cars (my first datsun was one of them) but when it ended we were faced with a problem. Should we tackle the huge drive home or find somewhere to stay over night? We pulled into a motel in Ipswich about 5pm and prepared for one of the strangest nights of our lives. Now grown up me knows that Ipswich, while a fair drive from home, doesn't require an overnight stay. At the time we were 18. Living and learning. 

To make things difficult, my darling husband Patrick is Southside. Very Southside. In fact, if he hadn't lied to me when we first met about where he lived, we wouldn't have had a second date. He was born and raised in one of those suburbs (that as a Northsider) we considered the most notorious in Brisbane. Over our dating time I spent a lot of time in that suburb. And overall I generally felt safe. There were definitely times and places that I wouldn't go alone, and there was that one night about 2am that his friend bashed on the bedroom window and screamed at us that people were chasing him and to let him in.

So how have we combined the North and South? Easily. When we moved into our first unit we agreed that we'd do 6 months leases on each side of the river to find out which area truly suited us. Our first unit was in Ascot on the North. We stayed there for 2 years until we bought our house, even further North. Each time the lease was about to run out we discussed moving and both agreed (both!!) that North was the place to be.
Over the years I've copped heaps of shit from his friends and mine over the North V South thing. Recently a comment was made by a friends dad that brought it all crashing back. The conversation went something like this

Friends dad: "There is a definite divide between the North and South. How'd you feel spending all that time in <insert name of Southside suburb that Patrick grew up in> when you're so Northside? I mean you probably went to Private school too, didn't you?"

Well yes I did. But take that up with my parents. It wasn't a decision I recall making. And I wasn't aware that I was "so Northside". What does that even mean? I know his friends thought I was a stuck up Northside snob back in the early days (they told me) but we're all good now. Geez.

So our household combines North and South quite well. These days we spend more time in the North but still plenty in the South visiting friends, family and places we like to go.

But for tonight there is only one camp in our house. North and South is forgotten, tonight it's all

QUEENSLANDER!!