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.

                   

Life Lesson or Parenting Fail?

Let me tell you about one of my recent shopping expeditions with Lily. We had some time to ourselves and decided to head out to the local shopping centre for some pre-Christmas window shopping. I had a few things I wanted to check out (gift ideas for Ava's teachers, school supplies for next year, Christmas presents for the family) and we browsed from store to store.

For the beginning Lily was great. She walked with me around the stores, didn't touch breakable things and only used her inside voice. We browsed through a number of stores this way. All was good.

Then we headed to one certain store. We've been into this store many, many times before. Lily knows this store and knows what she'll find in there.

First the stationary section. To get there we had to pass the book section. Lily got side tracked with some Disney Princess books and didn't follow me. Not to worry, I could see her from where I was browsing. All happy.

Next I needed to browse further into stationary. From where I needed to go I couldn't see Lily and the books so I went and asked her to please come with me now. Off we went further into the stationary aisles.

After stationary was the electronic section. I needed to look for headphones so we headed to that aisle. Lily knows the electronic section very well. Any time we go shopping as a family, Patrick is quite happy for me to browse anywhere I'd like for as long as I like because I'll find him in the DVD section when I'm done.
So after I'm done browsing for headphones we head over to the next aisle to look at the DVDs. Lily is happy looking at Barbie and Dora DVDs, I'm not. I popped into the next aisle and called out every few moments to Lily, "Lily are you there?" "Yes mummy I'm here" etc. After a little bit we headed onto our next section.

Christmas decorations. Now I like Christmas decorations and looking at them makes me happy. So I was happy to browse the aisles with Lily. I had a certain decoration I was looking for, and not finding it didn't want to spend too long in the aisles. Lily was in her element. She was loving all the decorations and was happily chatting away to them and herself while we where there. When I wanted to look in the next aisle I asked Lily to follow me. She didn't. She was in one end of an aisle and I was in the same end of the next aisle. I couldn't see her, but I could hear her still happily chatting to herself and the decorations. I was comfortable with this. We weren't going to be long and I wasn't far from her. I'm sure any parent would say they've been in the same situation. Kids being kids never stay where you want them too when you're shopping. If I couldn't have heard her, it would be another story. I feel the need to keep explaining this, because what happened next rocked me.

Lily was chatting away happily and honestly I was happy listening to her be so happy. Then she must have realised that we weren't in the same aisle anymore and called out "Mummy, where are you?" She didn't sound distressed, she wasn't crying, she just seemed genuinely surprised that we weren't together anymore. As I made my way to the top of Lily's aisle I found 4 women (some with children) standing around discussing Lily.

Random women:
"Is she yours?"
"No she's not mine"
"I'll take her to the front desk, you can't just have a little girl walking around by herself"

Me:
"Um excuse me, she is my daughter. I was in the next aisle and could hear her chatting away the whole time. I had asked her to follow me and she hadn't."

Random women:
Death Stares

Me:
"Lily are you OK? I was in the next aisle. I could hear you chatting away. I asked you to come with me though didn't I?"

Lily was fine. I think the only distressing thing was finding 4 women standing in front of her discussing taking her away. And as for the women, why wouldn't you look into the aisles around where you found a child alone? Why wouldn't you ask the child what mummy looks like and where did you last see her? None of these women spoke to Lily. They spoke about her, in front of her.

So we left the store, hand in hand, happily. Except for the very strong feeling of parental fail I felt. Had I done something horrible? Was I a terrible mum? Guilt, guilt, guilt!

I've told a few friends about the shopping trip and the overall response has been that my actions were fine. I could hear her, I was close by, I responded quickly when she called. And still, I feel guilt.

So tell me, have you suffered parental guilt over something similar?

Dream Boobs!

I like the party plan idea. Get a bunch of your girlfriends together in a room, have some wine and shop for something someone is telling you is awesome. And I've been to a lot of party plan parties. Old school party plan like Tupperware and linen parties. Fancy parties for make-up, lingerie and perfume. New age parties for candles, jewelry making, chocolate and mosaic. Practical parties for educational games for the kids and cleaning products. And racy parties for sex toys.

I attend these parties feeling no sense of obligation, except for the obligation I put on myself. I am that person who will buy a token item it help the host get some extra credits, even when I have been invited with strict instructions to not feel any obligation to purchase. Fact is, I like shopping. And what's not to like about an afternoon of wine with girlfriends and shopping?

This post comes about because my most recent purchase from a party plan party (this time lingerie) arrived today.

I was invited to an Intimo lingerie party held a fortnight ago by the lovely Jen from Twitter. Having met Jen only a few times I was touched to be invited and also a little hesitant. You see, I'm secretly (well not so much now) quite a paranoid person. I approached Jen's party with equal measures of excitement for an afternoon out and trepidation of what I may find when I got there.
What I found when I arrived was a very welcoming house full of ladies, most whom I hadn't met before, but quickly learnt had been chatting with for ages on Twitter. The fantastic Kym was our very informative and hilarious party plan guru. She was honest, knew her stuff and didn't run a pushy party plan party. There were giggles and shocking revelations. Who knew so many people put their bra on "wrong". And who would have ever thought that out of 7 women, I was the only one who did it "right"**?! (High five mum for passing on that knowledge all those years ago). Kym made getting your gear off in the lounge room a non event and she was much friendlier than any David Jones fitting lady. Now while my cash flow required restrictions on purchases I did order a new bra and fancy cardi.

Skip forward a week to find Australia Post have left me a parcel collection card. Yep my new bra has arrived! My bra requirements were fairly simple, and my new dream bra delivers. Big time. It's true, I did wear a dress today that put more cleavage out there than I normally would, but I had to have a proper test run. And what a run! Patrick seemed to snap out of his bad mood as soon as I came out of the bedroom dressed. The guy at the grocery store was much more chatty than normal  and the guy at the servo seemed very pleased to see me.

My Facebook status today said something along the lines of "Endless possibilities for mayhem, and a new bra" well I didn't get up to any great mayhem, but my new bra sure made the day alot of fun. Shameless, sure, but you've gotta highlight your assets, right?

Thank you Jen and Kym for hosting such a friendly and relaxed afternoon. I look forward to many more get togethers in the future. And snaps to Brett who spent most of the time hiding out in the study trying not to be anywhere there was a lingerie clad woman.

** The "right" way to put on a bra is to put your arms in first, then boobs, then reach around the back and do up the clasp.
This way it won't wear out the elastic around your middle if you swivel the bra around after doing it up at the front. And after doing a hasty poll of friends I have found I'm in the minority. Who'd have thunk it?!

Do you like party plan parties? What's your favourite party plan? And if you're game, which way do you put your bra on?

Who's a Yummy Mummy?

I am.

About 5 years ago a group of 30 or so women and their 6 week old babies met in a room at our local Community Health Clinic. Over the weeks and months that followed, a number of the women left the group for various reasons (lack of interest, work commitments etc.). But a few remained. In fact, only 5 remained.

5 strong minded women, with their first borns, struggling to make sense of this new chapter in their lives, together and alone. These 5 women are the Yummy Mummy's.

Nearly every week for the past 5 years I have been meeting with these chicks and their gorgeous children, and have been supporting, laughing, learning, crying, bitching and observing together. They have helped me more than I can ever thank them for and without them, I'd be lost. And I know they feel the same.

Together we've been through births, deaths, job losses, job gains, sickness, new teeth, lost teeth, daycare, preschool, prep, moving house, moving towns, rough patches and hilarious good times.

"Mummy's group" means different things to different people. To me, it means the weekly gathering (but constant support) with women who understand that you might not be looking your best, but you're doing just fine. You might have a handbag full of baby wipes and odd socks, but you're still that glamour puss at heart. You might spend the whole morning whinging about how hard things are, but you wouldn't change them for the world.
The mummy's listen. They care. They know what you're going though and either have advice, suggestions or some sort of mocking sarcasm to help you along.

To our husbands, "Mummy's group" is "the weekly coffee mornings she goes on", the secret society of stay at home mums who meet each week and talk about god knows what, "but it's probably about me".

To coffee shop owners "Mummy's group" are those women with their prams and noisy children who will tear the place apart, bring their own lunch boxes full of fruit and crackers and leave the rubbish behind. The women who will order coffee and get annoyed if the kitchen isn't open before 11.30am.

And to me, "Mummy's group" is sanity. It’s getting together with some great friends and surviving this life I chose. It's making sense of sleepless nights, defusing toddler tantrums and cheering as each new milestone is reached. It's a sense of relief knowing there are girls on hand who know what's going on, know my kids well enough to offer some time out and know how to kick up our heels and enjoy the rare Mummy's Night Out.

Mummy's group is also the one piece of advice I give to every pregnant woman I know. Find one with children the same age as yours and give it a good go. There is benefit in having a group of friends with children, but to have a group of friends with children the same age as yours; going through the same stages at the same time is just magical.

And why all this reminiscing about Mummy's? Well last week we saw the newest breed of Mummy's group. While out at our local play centre, enjoying a coffee and chat as our 3 year olds all played nicely together, a group of about 10 women walked in. 10 women with their prams and giant nappy bags filled to cover any situation, and their children who looked too small to get much benefit from the play centre. The new Mummy's group. At one stage one of our girls went and said hello to the new ladies. And through a brief conversation discovered they had all met recently at the same clinic we had, all those years ago.

So to you, new Mummy's group, I say enjoy the support you get, enjoy the love and enjoy the ride!

And to my Yummy Mummy's: Julia, Stella, Ronnie & Lou - thank you. For everything.


Do you have a mummy's group? Share the love and leave a comment!

iPhone Dramas v2.0

There I was, happily living off my high from being asked to guest blog on A String Of Pearls and looking forward to the girls weekend. Things were looking good. By "girls weekend" I mean that it was going to be Lily and I for a weekend while Patrick took Ava on school camp. It was exciting to have a whole weekend with just one of my children, and we were planning big things.

During the week I'd asked Lily a few times what special things she wanted to do on our mummy and Lily weekend. Her requests were simple. She wanted to go to the local shopping centre food court for a mad feed, and she wanted to go to Officeworks. It's the small things that please Lily the most. Both demands were do-able.

"But Lily, we don't need anything from Officeworks. What will we buy?"

"Doesn't matter. We can buy one piece of paper. But can I have a little trolley?"

I'm not sure if its stationary or the little shopping trolleys that please Lily the most. I'd say the trolleys but she seems to really like looking at pens too.

We threw in some extra activities (a DVD night and floor picnic - but don't tell Patrick, and a trip to the pool if the weather was good) and so our weekend was planned. We waved good bye to Patrick and Ava and smiled at each other knowing we had a whole weekend of just us.

Friday night we tried to watch a movie. Lily didn't seem into it and I was watching her play and talk to herself more than the actual movie (can someone please tell me if the cats took over the world as they planned??). We both ended up falling asleep early which is never a bad thing.

Saturday morning and disaster struck. Disaster for a few reasons actually.

1. Lily didn't let me sleep in. She climbed into my bed and started talking loudly to her doll about something or other. I pretended sleep for as long as possible but in the end gave up to wakefulness.

2. It was a grey overcast day. Not a big deal, but definitely doesn't look good for swimming.

3. And this is the biggie. My iPhone screen shattered. My lovely, just survived iOS5 update, iPhone screen shattered. I won't go into exactly how (frankly because it was early and I was still sleepy) my phone somehow left my hand and hit the bathroom tiled floor, but this became our my number one priority. I must repair my phone. I must not wait longer than a few hours to have it back. I must not have my phone swapped for a new one. All this must happen now! It was 7am.

Thankfully my phone still worked and the screen protector sticker thing kept all the glass fragments from falling out everywhere. I immediately accessed the jungle call of my lifetime, Twitter, and sought out assistance. Who knows where I can get this fixed, in the smallest amount of time. Cost (at this stage) was no object. And Twitter responded. There were heaps of suggestions all offering support and information. I followed some leads and hit google but that didn't give me the answer I was looking for. In the end I decided that we'd have to head out to the Apple store at Chermside and investigate options. There is an iPhone repair store in my local area and before making it over to Chermside I decided we'd just swing by and see if they were open.

They were! And they can replace cracked iPhone screens in about an hour ("It will probably only take 45 minutes, maybe half an hour this morning") and charged under $50.

Lily and I enjoyed a morning coffee and chat while we waited. We went for a stroll to kill a little more time and decided to head back to the store after being gone about 45 minutes. There was my phone, all shiny and new, repaired and back to better than before glory.

If you ever crack an iPhone screen let me know and I'll give you their details.

And our girls weekend? Continued without a hitch and we're loving every minute of it!

Well Now I'm Published!

Ok dear readers, today is a more exciting day than I would have imagined. Today, I am a published author!!

Yes I've been writing this blog for a little while now, but today I am published by someone other than me! You might notice the lovely string of pearls button to the right of these words. I got that button after Jane asked if I would like to be a guess blogger on her Ezine. Naturally I said yes! Click that button and (hopefully) you'll be taken to my most recent post, this time about my misadventures of updating my iPhone to iOS5.

So please, click the button on the right. Or alternatively click the link below. Read my new post, and leave me a comment so I know you've visited.

A String of Pearls blogEzine