My kids don't "get" Christmas...

No tree is sacred to a 9 month old...!

I've never been a huge fan of Christmas... not since my early adolescence where suddenly the magic was gone, and Christmas was just about being dragged to a distant family member's house where you couldn't drink (too young) and was expected to look after any younger kids that were there... It was a bit of a drag from about 14 yrs of age onwards.... However when I first had Tyler, and his first Christmas rolled round (he was 3 months old) I was SO excited about the festivities again... That I could finally do the magical Christmas hullabaloo for my little family like I'd experienced as a child myself.

But Christmas when the kids are still very little is not that exciting really... Maya no doubt will just want to eat wrapping paper. Tyler will be a bit more excited by the prospect of "presents" but is still too young to understand the concept of Father Christmas, or why Christmas is celebrated at all... that an the fact that we're not overly religious means that really, it's just "present day" for Tyler and that's about it... Both kids positively shit themselves when I tried to introduce them to Santa for a Christmas photo this year, and thus I'm being ever so slightly "humbug" about it all...

I'm not putting up a tree this year - given I've beared witness several times to what happens to a Christmas tree whilst Maya is in the vicinity. It's stripped from the boughs within arm's reach down and glitter gets everywhere, Maya crunches on plastic baubles and decorations and the lights are dangerously yanked about leaving the tree rocking ominously from side to side... I can't take the kids to go see the Christmas lights as they're so adamant about being in bed before dark that they'd not get to see anything... I'm not even buying a great deal of presents this year - well, at least not toys... My kids have FAR too many toys as it is. They've got some pretty amazing hand-made/WAHM made gifts but aside from that, things are being kept pretty low key... We'll do the whole charity shebang - donating gifts reminiscent of those the kids would receive for their appropriate ages to our local Salvos or church Christmas collection as we do every year. But aside from that, we're not doing a great deal...

I do have three things on my own "wish list" which I'll tackle in the new year when Christmas has passed and I'm more financial for it... A bottle of Stella McCartney "Stella" perfume (because I just can't suck up enough of the smell of old fashioned peony roses), a new couch (because ours is squalid after Tyler has painted it with yoghurt or milk or whathaveyou on several occasions, and a coffee machine (because the nasty Ebay seller I bought one from this month never ended up sending it. Asshole...)

However in true single-mummy fashion, I of course feel guilty for wanting such "luxuries" and inevitably will either put them off until they're forgotten, or will end up buying them around August next year when there are no birthdays or holidays in sight!

Call me mean, but I think I'm just going to take it easy this year and relish in the fact that the kids still don't yet "get" Christmas... It doesn't mean I don't love them any less, nor will they miss out (especially considering how much the grandparents spoil them so specially!) but basically - Christmas Day in our house will be rather humble and low-key... Which is a big relief to me, especially when I contrast it to some of my friends whose days are racking up to be a manic, insane experience. So long as me and my kids get our breakfast bowl of Cherries on Christmas morning (tradition for me!) we'll be happy :)

'til next time - Peace (on Earth) Out :P

Wordless Wednesday... (though in fairness, it's hard to be wordless... I have SO much to blog about!!!)

Fear and (Self-) Loathing in Las Single-Parenthood

As you may (or may not - depends how long you've been following) remember - I wrote a post once on the concept of dating after a relationship that spawned little people (need refreshing? Click >here<)... And I can quite confidently say that I'm finally at "that stage" where I've decided "yep... I'm kinda sick of being on my own 100 percent of my "child-free" time I get"... Sure, that time is not often, but when I do find myself on my own once the kids have gone to bed, or childcare, or their grandparents', I'm wanting company during said time...

However I have reached a conclusion over a couple of weeks of introspection and pensiveness... I haven't taken time for myself enough to get MYSELF ready for the prospect of "dating" someone... I am scared shitless of what might happen. And I feel too gross to even take the whole concept seriously. This saddens me. I am young, smart, somewhat entertaining, witty and gregarious... Yet I feel like soiled goods... It's a horrible feeling. Before I had the kids, I used to be so much more confident in myself...

For a start, I'm going through a real "self-loathing" phase - physically namely... My ass is the fattest it's been in years... My body is thrashed from giving birth to two babies practically back to back and I find myself in the fat club for a start... The plan for summer was to get myself fit enough to return to my sporting passion this April (Hockey) and so far I've barely made a start - and feel too frumpy to drag myself to a gym. The skin on my face is still "hormonally patchy" (you know that mask of pregnancy thing some women get? Pigmentation on the skin of your face??) and whilst I'm battling my state of contraception at late, I've found myself prone to breakouts making me feel even more grotesque... My hair still hasn't recovered from being sapped of nutrients in its entirety, and I still have a few faded stretchmarks which I'd rather I didn't... I guess at the very least I can count my blessings that I wasn't torn from asshole to breakfast or ended up with countless stitches, else I'd probably be ridiculously obsessed with that part of my anatomy and what condition it's in, too!

Second of all, keeping on top of the housework on a day to day level is pretty cyclical. Before I go to bed, I do a clean up en masse of the days worth of crap that has accumulated around the house (mainly from the toddler) so we wake up to a clean household... Cactus Hour runs from approx. 5:30pm til 7:00/7:30pm and hence the clean-up doesn't get done after this time. An average "date" on my behalf requires at least a solid hour's preparation in terms of self-care, clothing, makeup, hair hence were I to arrange a "date" at a normal hour, I'd run risk of either myself, or the house, looking shit-house... And considering my level of self-condfidence is fuck-all at the moment anyhow, I'd probably lean towards paying attention to myself, meaning my house wouldn't be as immaculate as I'd prefer it to be before having visitors. Conundrum. I'm one of those people that genuinely worries about what people think of the state of me, or my house, despite knowing that I'm a relatively awesome and intelligent person, I can't help but assume people are keeping a score-card of the state of my own and my surrounding's appearance...

Third of all is the biggest thing I have to overcome. I am shit freaking scared. I'm scared I'll end up in a relationship with (or even worse - pregnant to) another complete bastard, useless fuckwit, lazy dead-shit, control-freak, abusive asshole or all-round-c-word... I'm ridiculously untrusting and fearful and hence overwhelmingly hesitant based on previous relationships and truly need to learn to trust that (as my friends keep reassuring me) "there are good guys out there" and "not everyone is like your ex(s)"... Easier said than done. I'd rather be alone than walked all over again... Christ, finding a "Mr. Nice Guy" is hard enough when you're not feeling like you're a "bottom of the barrel" woman - so many of my attractive, working, childless female friends are struggling to find "Mr. Right" - let alone someone "like me"...

So I think I need to do a bit of self-renovating (both mentally/emotionally and physically)... Either that, or just come to terms with "I am what/who I am, and the "right" person will accept me exactly as that"... Though I feel for my own self-benefit, I should concentrate on the former rather than the latter... At the end of the day, even if it doesn't make me a "better person" for somebody else, at least it does for myself... Because surely being healthy, fit, and having confidence Maria Von Trapp would envy has got to be better than being a fat fuck who has no faith in humanity or relationships...!

Deep down I know the dream of being "Chelsea-Dagger-burlesque-awesome" is still there... though before, it was being "with somebody" that used to motivate me to "become her"... Now, I need to grab my own life by the balls and get to a state of "Chelsea Dagger" without relying on someone else's encouragement... It's time for some serious self-commitment. I've seen friends do it, I've seen my own mother do it, and after Tyler well I was doing pretty well at doing it myself (and if it weren't for Maya's conception I probably would have gotten all the way there!)

So until next time, peace out... (and "Say No!" to the custard tarts!!!) :P

They are babies. This is life. Not a competition...

For the love of Whomever... How many times do we overhear mothers discussing their kids milestones as though balloons and streamers will go off for whomever has the most impressive account of their kids "achievements"? I'm sorry that this blog is, straight off the bat, pure ranty (hey - give me credit, it's been a while) BUT... tonight at dinner I could hear the ping-ponging of baby-achievements at a table next to me, and it honestly makes me shudder!

How old was Ghandi when he took his first steps as an infant? When did Che Guevara cut his first tooth? Was Martin Luther King rolling over by 4 months? Did Siddartha toilet-train easily? Who bloody knows... and, furthermore, does it really matter? Did it have a staggering impact on what they then went on to achieve?

I know on occasion at mother's groups and playgroup and the like I've pitched in when someone has asked, because you almost feel like you HAVE to speak up... Heavens forbid you don't, else they'll all assume your child hasn't reached that milestone, or *gulp* that they hit it "late"... so of course when people have discussed it, I've discussed it too. With Tyler, he hit all his milestones really early, which would result in a "Wow!" (followed by that sideways look of "well, now you're just bragging!"... FML I'm only even saying it because if I don't you'll judge me worse than if I DO!) and with Maya she's been pretty much bang on average (which you then get the "Oh... that's late compared to your son then!") We cannot win... noone can!

Of course we "cannot win"... Because it's not a competition! These are babies. Unless there's something seriously wrong, it really doesn't matter... and even if there IS something seriously wrong, it's not like you're going to love them any less.

Furthermore - people whogo into detail about how "excelled" your child is and how you think he might be "gifted" and are planning to start "extending him" - oh come ON! Get real. You're child is like, what, 8 weeks old? Let babies be babies. Not trophies. They're divine little creatures needing only their basic needs met, and an excess of your heart...

Rant over. Night peeps and peace out :)

"One in a Million"

On the weekend we were discussing babies who were "meant to be"... Determined to be here. Destined to choose to be our children. Ones who have overcome odds that would normally make their existence rather unlikely.

My daughter is one of those "meant to be" babies. Given the circumstances of her conception, people are either blown away, or in disbelief, when I recall the "odds" which were against her ever being created.

For a start, I have Polycystic Ovaries. I was diagnosed with such at the age of 19, and warned that it could potentially make me rather sub-fertile. In an average year, I ovulate maybe one out of every 3 months. Thus the base percentage for my fertility level, annually, is 25 percent.

Let's break down Maya's conception further from this.

So given that my rate of fertility is 25 percent, you'd need to take into account that, given that there is only a 1 in 4 chance of pregnancy at the time of ovulation when using no contraception (on average 25 percent of unprotected incidents of sex during ovulation results in an actual pregnancy) my base rate for fertility (had I not used any contraception) the night I conceived (given that I must have ovulated else she'd not be here) Maya would have been 6.25%... Fair enough, not "bad" odds but you'd consider it "unlikely".

However given that I was actively using contraception methods (proactive ie. planned contraception) which possess a success rate of 98%, this reduces the odds of conception down to 0.125%. Starting to become a whole let loss likely that she should be here, right?

Then you need to take into account that, following the ineffectivity of the proactive contraception, I opted for an immediate reactive contraception (in the form of an emergency contraceptive). Following the pharmacist's instructions, the morning after pill reduces the possibility of pregnancy by a further 89 percent. Rendering the overall likelihood of conception to a miniscule 0.01375%

And yet despite all this, I have my beautiful, happy, bright little baby girl... And wouldn't change that for the world, of course!

It just makes you wonder ever so much more, about whether chance, or fate, or destiny are a lot more impactual than we might think. I tend to try and be as much as a realist as possible, but given that conceiving my daughter possesses the same amount of odds as a 72:1 Racehorse winning the Melbourne Cup, I'm resigning to think that something else magical must have an influence somehow... And, considering such crazy odds have been overcome just once, well then by gosh, maybe we as a family should be buying more lottery tickets, too ;)

Until next time, peace out...

"In an Ideal World"

I often (maybe too often) use the phrase "Yes, well in an ideal world..."

And following the big move into our new house last week, and taking some time to reflect upon the huge cornucopia of life events that have been thrown our way over the past few years, I found myself mentally listing scenarios which, had the world been "an ideal world", would infact make life oh so much easier and/or enjoyable... The things that are maybe a little bit suboptimal that a magic wand would be lovely to wave at! So I figured "if I've thunk it, I may as well blog it!" So here it is. My list of how things would be in an ideal world:

In an ideal world....

- Kids wouldn't be struck down by illness. Ever. And at the very least, if they did, they wouldn't be messy in the way they go about it... In the past 48 hours I've done four bedsheet rotations (including my own) after puke expolsions and have disinfected poop off my kitchen floor whilst my eldest has a virus

- Instead of having random tantrums, toddlers would just sporadically and publically do something very endearing... like a little tap-dance... or sweetly sing a cute song. And instead of people standing watching you in pity like they do at tantrums, they'd form a circle around the child and give them a huge round of applause!

- A money tree would be flourishing in our back garden

- When it comes to the overwhelmingly single aspect of single motherhood, I have just 3 words... "More Sexy Time!"

- Kids would be absolutely captivated by watching mummy's favourite TV shows. "Oh GOODIE!" the 2 year old would cry! "I've been DYING to watch the new episode of Q.I. Mama!"

- Babies would come fitted with stylish septic tanks that require emptying once a year, rather than needing up to 10 nappy changes a day...

- It would only take 5 minutes to get the whole family to leave the house... and of course, on the days you positively HAVE to be somewhere, it takes an even shorter amount of time!

- Cars do not get sick. And when they do, mechanic's accept payment in the form of limericks instead of cash!

- Houses would be self-cleaning (no explanation necessary)

- Robots would stylishly dress everybody and do our hair etc. (particularly MY hair and makeup) every morning before we left the house...

- Days in general would be longer, and the time it takes to do stuff shorter.

- Mummies would get 10 hours straight sleep a night

- Kids would find the idea of pulling tupperware out of cupboards hideous, and avoid doing so at all costs!

- Everything I need to learn to finish my degree, I could absorb in my sleep!

- Kids shoes would be adjustable, to keep up with their alarming foot growth.

- Or better yet, things like gravel would be soft - so we don't even have to wear shoes - EVER! :D

.... and of course, many many more - you get the drift...

So... tell me... what things would your ideal world entail??

Peace out x

Our Blank Canvas (or how "We may not always end up where we thought we were going, but we will always end up where we were meant to be...")

My own mother has always, throughout the years, reminded me of a saying she used to tell me as a child:

"You have your brush, you have your colours; you paint paradise, then you go in" (Nikos Kazantzakis)

Tomorrow we receive a "blank canvas" in the shape of a lovely new home... In it, we'll start a new chapter of our lives for me & my little family. What is currently an empty house, we will turn into a home - full of light, and warmth, grace and love...

Moving house was never of paramount importance before I had my babies. It was a roof over your head - somewhere to sleep at night after work. I've never been big on decorating, furnishing, etc. but when you have children, your attitude towards your home shifts - and you feel a desire to make it fun and happy for them.

That's my favourite part of moving. Decorating the kids' rooms and making it special for them. And, for the first time ever, I've started collecting "nice" or "grown-up" furniture pieces for myself - a few custom-made restoration pieces and lovely, solid good quality furniture. Bit by bit I'm phasing out all the flotsam and jetsam I inherited from various family members and friends upon returning from living overseas, and replacing them with "quality" items. I'm caring more about nice ornaments and things to accent the home with, but less about clutter...

It's also a place I have big plans for in terms of myself as a person. It's a new town, so I'll be challenged to meet new people and make new friends - which of course means putting yourself out there and being open to new friendships, and seeking social interaction. I've been diligent in finding out about the local playgroups and kindergyms for the kids, but also things that are of interest to me too - like where to source great fabrics for sewing, and when art groups meet, where the local library is, etc.

Furthermore the new house is quite interesting in terms of numerology (yes - "hippy shit" moment alert!) We are moving into a "13" house... which at a basic numerological level, is reduced to a "4" (1+3). "4 houses" are renowned for their consistency / steadfast traits. "People who live in a 4 house will find it easier to be steady, loyal, well respected, and grounded. This is a great home for planting your roots---and seeding your dreams." Which, if you've been following my blog, is exactly what I've felt like I've been seeking for years and years on end. So that's great. Hurray for that...

However on the other side of this house being a "13 house" is the fact that "13 houses" are considered to be "karmic debt number" houses... houses in which you must repay previous karmic debts which have been accruing in the previous houses you've lived in. In some circumstances, it's considered best to avoid a "karmic debt" household - however, if you feel like you're looking to overcome or conquer certain habits, a karmic debt number house can be a good tool for doing so!

"13 houses" are supposed to whip into shape those of us who don't apply ourselves effectively... For all the faffing about we've done over the past years (sound like anyone you know??) Explained further:

"The key to succeeding wit the 13 is focus. Very often, people with the 13 Karmic Debt do not concentrate or direct their energies in one specific direction, or on a single task, but scatter their energies over many projects and jobs, none of which amount to very much. A temptation wit the 13 is to take shortcuts for quick success. Too often, that easy success doesn't come, causing regret and the desire to give up. The result is a poor self-image, and the belief that one is incapable of amounting to very much.

In order to focus, you must maintain order in your life. Order is essential to success. You must maintain a schedule, keep appointments, and follow through. Keep your environment neat and under control, and never procrastinate. If you sustain a steady and consistent effort, you will realize much reward."

So I'm embracing this aspect of the new house. It's all about being organised, being focussed, being diligent to my work, keeping ontop of the housework, the kids, etc. Keeping up with my studies, finding time for my work commitments, and ensuring I get a good dose of "me time" outwith all that - to sew, to crochet, to play my guitar, paint artwork, read Frankie mags, and do all the things I love :)

So in honoring our new home - our new canvas - our new space: I intend on quite literally, taking my brush, and my colours, and painting a canvas especially to capture the essence of us as a family entering this new chapter of our lives, invoked by those special words my mother told me all those years ago, encapsulating this new attitude and outlook we will harness and enjoy together... It will hang on the wall, in our new home, as a colourful reminder of what this new chapter means to us. To symbolise our togetherness, and remind us that this is the path we are meant to be on - and what we choose to do with it, is up to us.

I said to a friend only very recently, when reflecting upon the twists and turns that have led us up to this very point - all the unexpected surprises that have cropped up over the last few years, and the relatively disturbing upheavals and drama, that despite all the chaos - that chaos was important. As the chaos got us to this point. Here. Right now. And tomorrow - tomorrow where we turn a page.

If there's one thing I've learn in the past few years it's this:

"We may not always end up where we thought we were going, but we will always end up where we were meant to be..."

and so, as it happens, tomorrow we are meant to be stepping foot into our new lives. How lovely to be given the chance to embrace that...

'til next time - peace, love and mung-beans x

A lesson in humility, grace & being allowed to ask for help

Us single mums do like to think we do a pretty good job. That we've got it all together. To me, it doesn't even seem "hard" most days. My team rocks! We have an awesome routine, and my children are endearing and make it easy. Considering the mother they spawned from (and how "fly by the seat of my pants" I am, I have surprisingly content, chilled out, easy going babies who run like clock-work...

The kids are, in fact, the easy part to "keep together". I manage parenting well. Very well if you ask my friends - well if you ask me (I'm rather introspective and critique myself, often!) We are lucky enough to have never experienced the following:

- major public meltdowns or tantrums

- insane poo explosions whilst outside the house

- any major injury or illness (Tyler's had gastro once, and has barely ever had a scratch on him)

- a mummy blow-out: where it all just gets too hard and you lose your shit... but with people watching!

Yesterday I had what I'd call a minor blowout. A curveball, if you will. The day started at 7am with me almost crying for a coffee - and pledging to my friend on the phone that without fail, I was caffeine-bound (for those of you who don't know, I don't drink coffee or tea, caffeine is like a last resort for me!) This was at 8am, and was spurred on my both the sub-4 hours of sleep I'd gotten the night before, the human-leeching my children were engaging in, and the business-glitch I was less than welcoming. But by the way the morning carried on - where one sub-optimal seemed to follow another and another - by the time I finally got my revered coffee, it was midday... and by then, I felt like death warmed up.

In true avalanche style, the rest of the day seemed to go down the shithole as well... Kids falling asleep in the car at opportune moments, resulting in me ever so patiently sitting in a car-park wasting away the time, daring not to wake them (if there's one thing you never do with clock-work children, it's wake them! A disturbance to their regimented slumber is like the end of the earth to a routine child) so the quick trip to the mechanic's became an exercise of military proportions - I found myself off guard. The children were overdue feeds. And nappy changes. God, even I hadn't eaten for the day! And to make matters worse, as courteous as it was of the auto-shop to offer me a courtesy car to get home in, my pint sized frame rendered me unable to see above the dash, the car itself was a bit fractious, and I felt incompetent and uncomfortable to drive it.

After floods of tears in a side-street trying to figure out what to do - with babies crying right along with you - you end up having to resort to the one thing that most single mothers like myself find the hardest thing to do. Ask for help...

Sounds so simple doesn't it? Ask for help. But to what others see as a strong, determined, capable mother - asking for help is like admitting defeat. Having others see you exposed and stripped back to the bare bones of coping under pressure feels humiliating. And worse, you see people looking at you with pity. Feeling sorry for you. Feeling bad for "your situation" as if it's an ailment.

But the funny thing is about asking for help - more often than not, when you ask for help, that's what you get. My needs were accommodated simply by asking. A place to change and feed the babies, a way to get home safely, and somewhere for me to dry my eyes, splash water on my face, and pick myself up again and get on with things.

This is one lesson I still need to learn, and a trait I still need to embrace. Being able to say "Can you please help me?" without feeling like it's a bad thing, or that it makes me any less of a mother. Or person. The pity that you think you sense may actually, infact, be admiration. That you did well enough to come that far as you did. No-one punishes you for asking for help, if anything sometimes they'll congratulate you for it, knowing it's not an easy thing to do...

If you're carrying too much more than you can handle on your own, choose to let some of it go by letting someone else in. You may feel weak, or vulnerable, but at the end of the day - it's a nicer feeling for everyone if permission is granted to depend on someone else. Plus the person doing the helping often gets as much from doing so as you do from receiving their help.

'Til next time, peace out :) x

Unfun Lurgie-ness...

Being sick is never fun... for anyone. Being sick when you're a single mum to a couple of kids - rather unpleasant. I'm not playing the "oh woe is me card"... I'm just saying as a plain and simple fact... being a single parent, whilst sick, versus being a coupled parent (or even moreso - just being a coupled person, no kids... or even just a "single person" who could be sick, on my own, in silence!) was always much easier...

At least when I was in a partnership, the light side of being sick was someone fetching you tissues, and making you boiled eggs and soldier toast... and saying your voice sounded cute when your nose was all bunged up (where words like "gloves" become "glubs"... and "love" becomes "lub"... and phrases like "I lub my glubs" are ever-so-endearing to someone!!) and stroking your hair til you fell asleep, watching re-runs of "F.R.I.E.N.D.S" ("The One With Rachel's Sister", of course, you know... the one where Monica is ridiculously sick, and begs Chandler to get it on despite being full of sick & yuck?? Mandatory sick day viewing..!)

With kids, when you're sick, on the other hand... you seem to be wearing a bill-board that screams "Come jump on me! I'm a human trampoline! Play with me! Stick things in my nose! Get into my things! Cover the bathroom with make-up! Make lots and lots of noise for me!" (moreso than normal, even...)

And of course, when you're trying to take care of yourself to make yourself feel better - the toddler sees your eggs and wants some too (after turning his nose up at his own at lunch time - why is mum's food always "better"??)... or you can't take the medicine the pharmacist recommended because it makes you so whacked out of your skull you're rendered unable to parent... Or the moment you make them happy, comfortable and safe, and shut your eyes for "just 5 minutes..." you open them again to find your living room is now a disaster zone...

Oh if I had a million dollars... The hired help would be here, bringing me breakfast on pretty silver trays and mopping my febrile brow with a cool wash-cloth... Instead I have the 2 year old bringing me a "new boogie, Mama" on the end of a finger and the 7 month old dribbling on my face as she headbutts me...

If you are well today - enjoy it! I personally cannot wait to feel human again!

As always, peace out <3

Surely I've earnt my "Girl Guide" badge in THIS by now?!?

Sometimes people think I must be adept at moving...

Having moved over 30 times in 11 years, you'd think so, hey? That I'm masterly at packing boxes, a dab handy with a roll of packing tape, expert at the relocation vocation...

Nope. I'm shit at it. And furthermore, I hate it... I hate moving. With a raging passion. Were I insanely rich, help would be hired and I'd simply show up and live in the new house.

One thing I am expert at? Being highly productive and intensely involved... in doing OTHER things that aren't packing-related! Like conjuring up amazing playlists on Youtube... or baking scrumptious cakes... or immersing myself in keeping up-to-date with current events and the breaking news (for those of you who don't know, I never read the news!!!)

The thing I think that makes me loathe packing/moving so much is the fact I am a great sentimentalist when it comes to possessions. I still have ticket stubs from Chelsea matches I attended in the UK 4 years ago... I have every piece of paper that Tyler has ever laid a pencil or texta on.... I have quirky little "memory hooks" of items everywhere that remind me of my gorgeous, free-spirited past. But when you add all of this nostalgia together - it makes for a whoooooole heap of crap, that serves no real "purpose" and in turn becomes a plethora of clutter. I bought a book called "The Clutter Diet" once - by which you follow steps to remove the clutter for your life. It's probably a very effective book... if only I were able to find it!!!

So with Mongolian Warrior-like strength today, I am culling the SHIT outta the place. I even hired a mini-skip... So far this morning, I've welled up twice whilst shredding and tossing away items of my past. It's kinda painful! There's a residual energy around everything I'm culling, like a little portacullis that can transport me back to a particular emotive state and set me off into a whimsy of what lovely things there once were in my life...

But the productivity of letting myself get whisked away with the ghosts of my past is little to nil. Nobody ever got ahead by sitting on their behind... To of course, again, quote my "dear friend" Eckhart Tolle: "“Sometimes letting things go is an act of far greater power than defending or hanging on.” So whilst I feel saddened or overwhelmed or lost in these "treasures" right now, I know I'm making way for a clean tomorrow... The "slate" I have presently is battered and covered in tatters of paper-fine memories like an old, well-loved suitcase. But sometimes it's good to throw out the old baggage, and go invest in a pristine, new set of luggage - after all, everything new you'll put in the new casing is less likely to fall out and get strewn along behind you if it's held safely in a nice, new place... How exciting to think that by shedding the "old", I am creating a beautiful new space for the "new" to arrive :)

As always - peace out :)

PS. Whilst this blog is good for my soul, you may also chastise me for the fact that it, itself, is also a form of procrastination from getting the packing done :P

Finding Our "Happy Place"

The last couple of years, for both me and the children, has been pretty intense and busy... For the children, being born was pretty momentous for them! Coming into the world and joining the hustle and bustle of the world, then growing, learning, developing, bonding with people, moving, eating, walking... And to add to all this, my own "business" - the breaking down of relationships, the arrival of a second baby, moving house, moving towns, starting new hobbies, taking on work here and there, budgeting, saving, managing money, managing housework, managing the babies who were busy trying to manage themselves... Our lives have been a bit of a hullabaloo!

Now finally I am yearning for some ultimate serenity... Some peaceful grounding which we can simply relax and enjoy our calm and simple lives. The babies of course will continue to grow and change, yet I am at a point where I want to provide them with some true consistency.

Part of this realisation, and the process that attaining this involves, means it is time to tie up lose ends and prepare to become settled. We need to find a house we love to live in. I need to be happy with what I'm doing in my work/studies. The children have developed an amazing routine and ultimately, I'd like it to continue the way it's been thus far, as really - they are superbly clock-work and things run very smoothly parenting-wise as a result.

A pattern that has emerged in my life pre-children is not exercising enough of a degree of discernment. I've hastily accepted houses on the basis that they would "do for now" only to be disgruntled not too long after moving into them. I've fleetingly entered into relationships which in turn haven't turned out to be the right ones. I've dabbled in various vocations job and study wise yet still haven't established a profession or career, and I have fair-weathered hobbies which are fun whilst I'm enthusiastic, yet get cast by the wayside when something new and equally fun takes its place.

It's taken a shift in my thinking to make the realisation that, essentially, all I have done for the last decade is really repeat the same patterns just in a different fashion. It's like putting on an identical jumper every morning, just in a different colour, yet we don't concentrate on the fact it's the same jumper - we concentrate on the fact that we're wearing a different colour that day and forget that infact, it's the same outfit, just in a different tone!

In order to be able to truly break this carousel I set myself on time and time again (in many aspects of my life), with the motivation for doing so being the wellbeing of my children, I feel a need to make a physical pledge or put it in writing. Hence why I'm blogging about it. Writing about it makes it a lot more "real" for me, and the more real it feels, the more likely I am to embrace it - I will feel like I need to be accountable to the pledge I have made, and encourage myself to act with discernment - be sure that what I seek and what I choose is what I truly desire, for me and my babies...

I think this can be summarised in a point made by Lama Shenpen Hookham, who states:

"True discernment is essential to the nature of our being. When we are trapped in thinking we turn that discernment into thinking and trap ourselves in confusion. But if we simply put into words what we discern in the heart, they point us to the ungraspable essence of our experience - a light and joyful process..."

I therefore now look forward to what I believe will be a light and joyful process myself... I am excited about finding a home we shall love and enjoy, interacting with the people we choose to have near us; myself I am eager to get back on track with Uni. at the return of next semester, and am thrilled to have had some more work fatefully come my way. I think this growth is going to be great for us - all of us... Now that the mind is decided, it's time to turn thoughts into actions. I anticipate quite a busy time ahead of us, but at the end of the day:

"All the hard work must be worth it if you get exactly what you long for, in the end..." (my good self)

As always - peace out :) xx

The Birthday Story (for Tyler - who turns 2 this weekend!!!)

Once upon a time there were two little children named Tyler and Maya. They were bright and happy children who lived amongst the angels in heaven. They were very happy there. They admired the beautiful colors in heaven and enjoyed listening to the beautiful music there, and that was where they belonged...

But one day the clouds parted in heaven and both Tyler and Maya caught a glimpse of the beautiful green earth below with all the people happily playing and working and they suddenly longed ever so much to go there and see what it was like. They saw all the rainbow colors of the earth. They saw butterflies visiting flowers and birds flying in the air, trees swaying in the breeze and leaves falling to the ground. They seemed to be beckoning the children. They saw fish swimming in the sea and all the different plants that covered the earth. They saw other children climbing trees, running, playing, skipping about and jumping in the meadows and walking through sand and leaves. It was all so beautiful!

Tyler said to his guardian angel: "Please, may I go down to earth?" But his angel looked at him and said: "No Tyler, it is too soon. You and Maya must wait a little while yet." So the children remained in heaven and were happy, and soon forgot all about the earth.

Then one day again Tyler alone saw a glimpse of the earth through the clouds again. He saw people working and enjoying their lives, and mothers and fathers, grandparents, uncles and aunts with the children of Earth. He saw beaches and forests, mountains and islands, and on one of these islands he saw a beautiful mother with love and longing in her heart for a child, and he asked his angel: "Please. May I go to her?"

The angel said: "You must go through the land of dreams, first."

The next night the little child had a dream. In it he dreamed that he went to the mother and she held out her arms and said: "Please come and be my child. I will love you with all my heart and keep you from harm down here on Earth."

The little boy went to the angel and told him the dream. The angel said: "Tyler, It is now time for you to go. Maya will stay here, but she will join you in a while. The mother you have found you will give you and Maya all the love and guidance you will need in your life on Earth."

Tyler said he understood that Maya would have to wait in heaven until later. He hugged her and assured her he would see her again, and then he said to the angel: "I am ready. May I go now?"

That night Tyler went to sleep into dreamland and while ten moons waxed and waned he rocked in a little boat upon the sea. At the end of ten moons' time. a beautiful rainbow bridge stretched from the heaven to earth and upon reaching it Tyler took the form of a tiny baby.

From this bridge he slid from heaven to earth into his mother's arms.

She looked in awe at this new life and said "I shall call him Tyler... For that is the perfect name for him". And with that, Tyler received his first earthly gift - his name...

In Tyler's first moments on earth, he growled like a little old-fashioned teddy bear. His face was screwed up and he peacefully lay in his new mother's arms, and nothing had prepared her for the love she would feel when he first opened his eyes to look into hers.

In his first year, Tyler grew and grew. He was small but thrived. At 4 months he rolled over, at 6 months he crawled, at 7 months he got his first two teeth, and by 8 months he was walking along whilst holding onto the furniture. His first words were "Jack-Jack" - the name of his favourite toy bunny and he soon learnt even more new words such as "Mama" and "Flower" and "Star" and "Moon".

He started trying new foods and drinks, loved other children, and played with lots of toys. He loved being outdoors - touching plants, listening to the birds and the rain and discovering "nature".

Then before him and his mother knew it, he had turned 1 year old.

In the next year, Tyler grew more and more! He was soon walking so well that before long, he was running! He learnt so many new words and became interested in new things. He had developed a strong affinity with nature in his time so far on earth and admired the trees, the leaves, the flowers and the creatures he found on earth. It was in this year that he called out to Maya and insisted that she come and join him from heaven!

And so Tyler became a big brother in this year. He loved his little sister and showed her such delicate affection, she loved him back too and was glad that Tyler had called out to her to come to earth with him.

It was not too long after Maya arrived from heaven that Tyler turned 2!

And so, today, 2 candles will be lit to celebrate the day that Tyler came to meet his mummy and bring her all the love and joy she needed, and so she would have a beautiful little boy to love in return...

(This is my son's "Rainbow Bridge Birthday Story" - it is based on a Waldorf philosophy of telling the children a story about themselves, and their creation, in honour of their birthday. Each year an additional paragraph about the child is added to follow the previous years, and a candle is lit at the end of each year's paragraph - year by year, a candle at a time... A simplified version can be found in "Beyond the Rainbow Bridge", a book by Barbara J. Patterson and Pamela Bradley. The story found in this book can be adapted to create an individual story to tell specifically to your children about themselves with personal detail. This is my first "go" at a "Rainbow Bridge Story". Please don't copy or redistribute this one for yourself - if you wish to create one a basic outline of one can be found at http://herbnites.tripod.com/waldorfinspiredschool/id12.html )

The Occupational Hazards of Single Motherhood

Despite society coming a long way with views towards sole-parenting, being a single mum is still not without its social stigmas and different negative preconceived notions. There are certain assumptions made about single mothers which need to be torn to shreds. Like with most stereotypes - yes, of course there are some instances where some of the assumptions can be applied or ring true. But just because of a small few, why should everyone be tarred with the same brush?

Through my experiences as a single mother (albeit short, I've only been a mother for just shy of 2 years) here are some of the assumptions I have found being made about my circumstances:

• Single Mother's Are "Easy" - they must be up for it with anyone, right? First and foremost is the "easy" label sometimes universally applied to single mothers. And noone interested in potentially sleeping with you really has the time or the want to listen to your long spiel about what actually led to you becoming a single mother in the first place anyway. Because they're too busy checking out your arse or your tits or asking you when a baby sitter can be arranged. Not cool. Not all single mum's are "easy". Not all single mums were promiscuous, nor their children unplanned or unwanted, and definitely not all single mums are lacking in their discernment for whom they would and wouldn't choose to bed.

• Single mother's are lazy - they just sit about the house all day whilst I as a taxpayer fund them to do so! Again, this is another assumption by which YES there are some cases where this is accurate, however not every single mum out there is like this - and I think I'd be right in saying for the most part, the "pension bludger" mother is actually the minority. Having children does impact the amount of time and effort that can be put into other pursuits - that's a given. But there are plenty of single mum's out there whose work ethic is still strong. In some cases, stronger than double-income mothers. Because as a single mum, you are the only person accountable for the well-being and comfort of your children, your actions dictate their lifestyle and thus many single women feel more inclined to work harder for the sake of supporting their children to give them a "good life".

• She's made her bed, so I suppose now she has to lie in it. If she didn't want to be a single mum, well, she could have just stayed with the father! There are a million reasons for becoming a single mother. Not always are single mothers made by choice. For example, if you were presented with two different types of single mother - the one made because she left her partner, versus the one made because she was widowed, people would find it more easy to readily accept and empathise with the widow. Yet without being understanding of a single mother's background or knowing the story behind her circumstances, you don't know if a single mother was fleeing a violent or abusive situation when she left her partner. Or if he was unfaithful in the relationship. Or uncaring towards the children. Or acting outwith the law. Also a great deal of single women, when choosing to have their children (planned or unplanned) if in a relationship at the time do not forsee with some divine gift of prophecy that their relationship will come to an end and they'll end up being a single mother. A great proportion of single mothers go into parenthood believing that they'll be doing it as a couple. It's not always a choice to become a single mother, and it's not always their fault.

• She must have been hell to live with - no wonder the poor bloke left her! This ties in with the previous statement also. There's an assumption that if you're a single mother, it's because there's something wrong with you. You've failed as being part of a relationship and must be so pathetic at maintaining one that the one you were in stuffed up. A single woman without child, however, doesn't so often receive this label. Yet when you've got kids and are single - wow, you must be a difficult woman.

• She probably can't even look after her kids properly. This one gets my goat the most. There's a stigma that implies that single mothers (in addition to all the other aspects mentioned already) are bad mothers. That they don't parent as well, they have no control of their children, and that they don't do as good a job as a complete family unit would. So not true in many circumstances. If anything, single mothers could be considered to be more selfless in their parenting because to a single mother there is no competition for their affection or attention or time and energy - their children are their everything in most circumstances, and as a result they more often than not devote a great deal of themselves to being a highly dedicated mother and wonderful parent.

Again there are always exceptions to the rule which stick out like dog's bollocks, however too great an emphasis is placed on the minority and there is too small an understanding of the majority when it comes to single mothers out there. The old saying "Don't judge a book by it's cover" rings so true. Every single mother has it's own story. And should you hear out this story, don't misconstrue it for complaint, justification, excuse-making or whining. If you hear a single mother's story, consider it a privilege to be given a greater understanding, insight and the fact that in order for her to be telling it to you means she trusts that you will not judge her for it. Considering recent statistics indicate that 70 percent of adults believe it is "bad" to be a single mother, it only makes me wonder how on earth we can come so far in society with our stance towards other contentious issues - such as inter-racial marriage, gay parenting and the like, yet still be so negative towards single motherhood.

Furthermore, when a male is a sole-parent it's considered such a "good thing" that he's doing - he's praised for being a dedicated dad and it's considered such a selfless thing on his behalf to be doing that for his children's best interest. He's not labelled a lazy slut who was a nightmare to be in a relationship with and deserves all that he's been given, after all, he chose to be that way.

Perhaps the next time the people who look at a single mother and begin to make these assumptions need to imagine whether they would come to the same conclusions were she a man, instead... ;)

As always - just food for thought.... Peace out ;)

"Happy Fa...." Hmmm... "Happy ME Day!"

So today down in Oz it's "Father's Day"... which is a relatively uneventful day whilst the children are still young and oblivious to it being any different a day than any. My children still have no excitement about weekends, let alone marked holidays or events! (Feel free to read the memo on "Weekends are rest days and you can permit your mother a sleep-in on Sundays" at anytime, my darlings!) I found myself staring at the Father's Day greeting cards in the shop this year and thought "there really isn't a very inclusive market out there for those of us doing it on our own (whether by choice or not)"...

To make myself feel special today, we bought a tacky "dad's card" - the stereotypical blokey one, with a fishing rod and golf clubs and a beer stein on the front, and inside I allowed myself to write:

"Some dads fish...

Some dads play golf...

But my 'dad' does everything...

She's my MUM...!"

and signed it "Happy Awesome-Parent's Day - love from Tyler and Maya"...

Of course we also made an effort to treat my own dads (yep, I'm a 'statistic affected child' myself!) and have spent the day at their grandpa's house cooking a barbecue and playing bocce on the lawn in the sunshine. Just having an all-round generally "nice" day...

I'm not bitter about father's day... If anything, I think it's wonderful to acknowledge people in general. Though with today's society being created so much of step-families, blended-families, same-sex oriented parental families, adopted families and the like - perhaps it should just be "parent's day?" That way neither party (single dads on mother's day, or single mother's on father's day... or grandparents/aunts/older siblings who have taken on the parental role in the mother/father's absence on either of the occasions) would feel bad. Even the non-parents out there would feel good because even if they don't have kids themselves, they're still someone's child and therefore could surely see some sense in occasion of "Parent's Day"!

I find it interesting from an etymological perspective, too, to note that the origins of the word "dad" or "dada" indicates the word was most likely actually relating to mothers! In Hebrew it was represented by the word "dod" which was the provider of food from breasts (ie. a mother. You know. The one with the BREASTS!) In one faction within Italy, the word "dada" still means "mother" to this day...

Furthermore the fact babies tend to say "dada" as their first words has no correlation to any admiration of their paternal figures whatsoever. Studies have revealled babies brains are wired to have increased frontal and temporal lobe activity recorded when adjacent repetitive sounds are played - but whether they are "mama and dada" or "baba and gaga" make no difference whatsoever. The activity in the brain is simply more responsive to adjacent repetitive words of any kind as opposed to non-adjacent words (like bo-ma or pa-co). So it is no preference of the baby to adhere to terms like "dada" and "papa" than it is "mama" and they are unable to process any link between paternity and "labelling" at such an age where first language is developed, and more than likely through overhearing occurrences of repetition in our own daily vocabulary and come out with these phrases on their own (plus the fact such words are sometimes reinforced through the "teaching" we provide as parents are encouraged to continue to vocalise these sounds). The likelihood of "dada" and "dad" being applied to the paternal figure of the household is probably prehistoric (as, afterall, being the "head of the family" probably meant our little cavemen were of course assuming the baby would be expressing "words" to him above all others!) despite the fact it's "meaning" was nothing more than noise...!

Taking the origins of the word into account, I therefore feel that anyone who is a parent can choose to call themselves a "Dad" today - and relish in the fact that they are providing for and nurturing their children, regardless of the kind of "junk" they have in their trunk..! I wish everyone out there a Happy Dad's Day. And if you know a great parent/grandparent/aunt/uncle/older sibling/foster parent or ANYONE who is doing a great job of raising a child or children, you wish them a great day too :)

Peace out ;)

My first "Wordless Wednesday"

"No day is so bad it can't be fixed with a nap..." ~ Carrie Snow

(P.S. Mop Hats rock..!)

"Anthea Turner" I am not... (most definitely NOT)

For those of you who don't know, the concept of being "Not So Suzy" sprung from the fact that I'm no perfect housewife (or house mother, seeing as I'm noone's "wife") - a play on words of the term "Suzy Homemaker". I'm genuinely and honestly no good at being on top of things. I have days where I work really hard to get ahead (normally making three times the mess by dragging it all out in the process) and yet always seem to be plateaued at a certain state of clutter - where I know where everything is, but it's definitely not organised.

The picture featured in this post is my living room floor last week, when I was trying to sort out the kids toys! :S This was an exceptionally messy week... but from this extreme to the "normal" extreme, there isn't a great deal of difference... just all the toys are put away. The vacuum cleaner is still always lumped somewhere in the living room. The telephone is always "somewhere.... but I'll have to ring it to find it"! There is always a small pile of "kids clothes they've just taken off", "kids clothes they'll soon be putting on", "kids clothes that I'm not quite sure if they've worn these yet or not, so I spose I'd better wash them again just incase"... And at the end of the day there's always a pair of jeans and undies on my toilet floor - because at the end of the day, when the kids are at last in bed, I finally have a chance to pee (after most likely holding onto it for a few hours) and out of habit I just take them off in there and go directly from the loo to the shower, shower to the bedroom, and put my PJ's on!

I'll be moving house soon, to a much smaller home, and with downgrading home comes time for a clear out. And just thinking about the work that will need to be done in order to move makes my brain weep... There is so much stuff, and so little time with children around to get it all done. Coupled with my brilliant ability to procrastinate, I'm feeling like it's going to be an uphill battle.

You know it's time for change in your house when:

- You seriously consider hiding the dirty dishes in the cupboard quickly before someone comes over, rather than washing the sink full of crockery, cutlery, and endless baby bottles from earlier that day.

- Your children have enough clean clothes to last them about another month despite not doing laundry for a week.

- Your toddler starts mimicking your "bad habits" - like throwing his shoes in the general direction of the shoe pile that inhabits a corner of your lounge-room when he takes them off.

- When asked if you want to catch up for a cuppa, you reply "Sure! Let's go to that new cafe in town, I hear their coffee is GREAT!" rather than save yourself a tenner and have coffee and cake at home.

- You change your dinner plans because a certain pan or pot or implement required to make the meal you intended to make is in the dishes pile mentioned earlier, and you end up having eggs on toast instead.

- You find yourself very painstakingly and dedicatedly applying yourself to the tasks you DO like (sure - there's three piles of kids clothes to be washed in the laundry, but look how my bathroom GLEAMS with blinding cleanliness!) This is one form of procrastination I find myself falling into often...

- You just get completely overwhelmed and say "F*** it!", grab the kids and go out for the day instead.

Now don't get me wrong, I am not particularly lazy. If I was lazy my kids would be in dirty clothes, soggy nappies, have yucky grimy faces and hands, and be unable to walk across the lounge-room floor all together for all the toys and clothes and crap they own. I do detain the mess/clutter, it is organised clutter, and I do spend my day doing quick runs around the house inbetween catering to their basic needs ie. I feed them good food, I stimulate their minds, I give them lots of love and create variety in their day. Maybe my priorities are just slanted more towards giving them a good day than giving them a beautifully presented home.

However I'm prepared to set myself a challenge for going into the new home. At the new house I intend, every week, to invite a friend (or friends) over to my house, for coffee, lunch, dinner, whathaveyou, or even invite people to feel free to just "drop in on us" (exception being of course during the "Cactus Hour" I posted about earlier this week - do so at your own risk at that time, and if you do, no apologies on our behalf for our nakedness or chicken-stuffed noses).

The reason I propose to do this is because the only time I have been able to really keep the house nice and clean has been when it's been out of sheer fear of being judged and mortifyingly embarrassed. For example, when a special friend from out of town is coming to stay, or my very neat sister is holidaying with us, or I have a house inspection, or other kids are going to come over to play. Whilst with some friends, such as my nearest and dearest bestie, I know I can "get away with it", there are some people I would just go hide under a pile of laundry and pretend I wasn't home if they came over to visit...

So feel free, in 3 months time, to come knocking on my door - clutching a copy of this blog entry printed out in your hot little hand - and gleefully tell me "I believe you asked for this!" And by all means feel free to chastise me if you can't see the living room floor, or if I have to wash a mug before offering you a cup of tea!

Eating My Own Words

I remember pre-pregnancy proudly proclaiming all the things I'd never do as a parent. I was adamant I was going to be a really down to earth, chillaxed Mama... I was going to grow my children as naturally as possible and protect their lives from any physical or emotional toxicity. I was not going to give in to all the "cop-outs" I thought would make me a "lesser parent"... Instead, here are all the things I recall saying, pre-children, what I would never do as a parent:

1) Use a Dummy - "I can't stand kids standing there with a dummy hanging out of their face and you can't hear what they're saying because they've got their mouth full of plastic"... This rule was broken when Tyler was just 3 days old and still in the hospital. After comfort-sucking for 36 hours straight, the nurses themselves actually suggested I use a dummy with him. And so we did. However he was quite picky about the type of dummy he'd use. After his Granny had spent about forty-odd bucks on a selection of whizz-bang fancy dummies, Tyler finally resigned to taking a natural rubber latex dummy the size of his head, making him look even more ridiculous than all the dummy-using kids I'd sworn my kid would not turn out to be!

2) Bottle-feed - "I'll breast feed my kids til they're at least 1, even 2 years old. It's better for them!" Turns out sometimes, you don't have much of a choice. In Tyler's case, bottle-feeding was actually better for him than breast-feeding. When breastfeeding, he was actually starving! Unbeknownst to myself and my medical carers, I was suffering from a nasty uterine infection after giving birth. The problem didn't present itself 'til I had a massive delayed post-partum haemmorhage 6 and a half weeks after I'd had him. In turn, my body was tricked into thinking it was still pregnant, from all the material still inside my uterus. And when you're body thinks it's still pregnant, you don't produce nearly enough milk. At 6 weeks Tyler was diagnosed with "failure to thrive", we were sent to Torrens House for feeding issues (all of which were then written off once we discovered the failure was actually in my body's lacking the ability to make quality milk, in sufficient quantity).

Poor Tyler took 7 weeks to surpass his birthweight. He was a skinny little runt of a child and his saving grace was using a Supply Line for 5 weeks. But by the end of 5 weeks, he was receiving only 25% breast-milk and 75% formula, so we called it a day. Nastily enough, the same issue occurred post-partum with Maya (2 and a half weeks after delivery) and my supply was compromised similarly to how it was with Tyler (The photo is first of Tyler after 6 weeks of breastfeeding, compared to Tyler after just 2 weeks of formula-feeding).

3) Let my kids watch much TV (or even worse, get "into" certain shows / TV characters) - I always hated shows like The Teletubbies, In the Night Garden, Pingu, and other shows which "doesn't use real words and the characters all walk around doing nothing but

make stupid noises". I won't say at all that I've changed my stance on that. I do still hate these types of shows, however of course I've given in and let my son watch them... ITNG has become a part of his nightly routine - he knows when they go to bed, he goes to bed. His all time favourite show is "The WotWots" - and he has the talking toys, the push-a-longs, the Tufly Flufties Headband, the mix and make drawing board, the playdough set, and the Funveritable! He's most likely going to have a WotWot birthday cake this year... He stops dead in his tracks when he hears the theme-song, he dresses them in disposable nappies, and he takes his blue SpottyWot everywhere...

4) Feed my babies baby-food from a jar - "It's full of preservatives and crap! I will only feed them stuff I've made myself..." Now for the most part, I was pretty diligent with this conviction. Tyler's first food was pureed zucchini I'd made myself, and for many months I did only feed him stuff I'd made myself.

But once he got to the age where he was walking about and putting anything and everything in his mouth, I threw caution to the wind and he ate tinned/jarred baby-foods. At the end of the day, they really are sometimes more convenient, and they appear to have done no harm. I am still pretty harsh on what I do and don't let him have though (he's not allowed lollies, chips, juice, chocolate - except on the very, very rare occasion where he bugs me for some of mine, strange how an almost 2 year old delights in Lindt dark chocolate with chilli!) and he generally does still eat home-prepared meals. He's had McDonalds twice (and to be fair, wasn't too keen on it anyway!) Maya will start weaning soon and being the second child, who knows how lax I'll be in my approach this time!

5) Use a "baby leash" - I always pitied the poor children in harnesses. I hated seeing how their mother would be on one side of a shopping aisle, and when she suddenly darted off with the trolley, her toddler would be yanked around a 90 degree corner and pulled along behind her. I always thought they were pretty demeaning and swore I would never use one. I'll admit, however, that once a month when I go to do my "big shop", Tyler gets put in one. Namely because it allows him to walk along side me, whilst I carry Maya in the sling, then put them both in a trolley when we get to the supermarket 10 minutes walk down the road. But still, I swore I never would. I even joked about it with friends.

And to this list, you can also add smacking (less than 10 times in total over a nappied-bum, but still, swore I never would), sleep in my bed (Maya co-slept for the first 8 weeks of her life constantly), use antibiotics (10 constant months of ear-infections with Tyler quenched that idea), letting them have too many toys, getting hung up about kids clothing brands, go on about my kids all the time on the phone / Facebook / over coffee with friends, licking a tissue to clean their faces, buy them food at the supermarket just to shut them up, and curse infront of the children (am getting much better at that one since Tyler's quite an adept parrot these days!)

Then again, I always said I'd never have a messy house or wear unironed clothing, either...! Kids. Gotta love the impact they have on us...

Cactus Hour (or why it's best not to call or visit between 5:30pm and 7:30pm)

Predictable children means predictable hours in our household. And even if the other "bits" throughout the day might alter slightly, there is always, without fail, a certain time of day that does not change from one day to the next. That's the 5:30pm to 7:30pm shift. Fellow parents will know what I'm talking about straight away and possibly don't have to proceed to read anymore of this post, just give us a big "I hear 'ya, Mama!" in your head and roll on to get on with yours (How are you even reading this right now anyway?!) Non-parents on the other hand sometimes don't really understand the hullabaloo that goes on during this time and probably (to some extent) think we're all just hangin' out, chillaxin', winding down from our day... Oh no, dear childless compadres. This is when the big guns just begin...

In our household, Tyler starts demanding dinner bang on 5:29pm. If I've had a good daytime run earlier, that's no worry - it's in the fridge/saucepan/slowcooker (or on not so good days - tin!) and ready to go. At 5:31pm you realise you've accidently over-zapped his dinner by an extra minute in the microwave as he's merrily pushing buttons calling out "BEEP! BEEP!" on the microwave whilst you were tending to the huge spew the baby just threw across the room... At 5:32, Tyler's on the edge of tears because 1) he's tired - a whole day is a big day when you're not even 2 years old yet, and 2) because he's seen dinner and still doesn't understand the concept of "you'll have to wait for it to cool down now". Meanwhile the baby has proceeded to join in the howling because she's now starving after purging her earlier milk-feed. In unison, the two overly tired kids wail and whine til you shove something in their mouth. And then they're both happy.

Bathtime consists of us all having a bath (self included) - me to hold the baby, and toddler because seriously, if me and the baby are bathing he might as well be in there too, else God only knows what he'd get up to if we left him unsupervised with us submerged in water and unable to go running to a different area of the house should something fall down / smash / set on fire. So it's an all in bathroom affair. We then proceed to all walk towelled but naked through to the lounge room (reason 1 as to why it's best to let me know before "dropping in" at this time of evening - else you might think we're one of those weird families who just all hang out naked together all the time...!) and infront of the heater I dress Maya, then Tyler, then myself.

Then the little blue minion (thou shalt be named "Iggle Piggle") emerges from his hell-hole to indicate to the toddler that it's almost bed time. He starts winding down, whilst baby is just gearing up. She has a big active play with me whilst Tyler lounges on the sofa (the entire sofa that is - paying particular attention to whichever end of it I myself might want to sit on, and very indiscretely shoving me away should I try and share it). So baby and I end up on the floor until the "good night" song plays and Tyler toddles off to bed, Maya then starts to get grizzly, has a bottle, and goes to bed too - on a good night all before the end of the "Spicks & Specks" opening theme song (I don't watch much television, but this is the one show that, if possible, I will watch every night)... (*edit: though apparently not tonight - for some reason we're not receiving ABC TV signal tonight! :S )

So therefore, should you, or a telemarketer, or a charity seller, appointment setter, door to door sales person, census surveyor or whomever, call or approach the house between these hours, I do not apologise at all for what you may bear witness to... My son may be shoving chicken up his nose. Or my nose even... My daughter may resemble a purely milk-fed exorcist... I may be naked. They may be naked. There may even be naked running after each other involved. I may be a bit more edgy / bit less friendly - but not because I don't like you. Just because you have poor timing. It's called Cactus Hour because it's the kind of time you'd rather spend crawling through a field full of cacti naked than to have to deal with. The kids give you the shits during cactus hour, no matter how lovely and affectionate and gorgeous they are, cactus hour is just all round prickly and nasty for everyone involved. So "please - leave a message after the tone" *beeeeeeeeeep*

No one is a "follower" in this household...

So today I took the kids, and their Grandpa, to the "Playschool Concert". Families turned out in droves to see a famous duo of the well-know TV presenters and eagerly sat in anticipation for the singing and dancing to commence. As soon as we arrived to line-up, my suspicions about Tyler's interest in going started to emerge... Whilst all the other children cheerfully lined up with their parents, my son was busy trying to inspect a man-hole cover in the ground, and drag his Pa along to wander around the grounds with him. We got inside and found some seats for Pa and Maya, and I (trying to instill some sense of enthusiasm in Tyler) took him down onto the floor in front of the stage - awesome seats - second row, dead centre, every Playschool Fan's dream.

Within 5 minutes, Tyler started wailing and tears streamed down his face. Now to put some perspective on things - Tyler seldom cries, is generally a very happy, content little man. He is also not a "naughty" child - he seldom does anything bratty or rude, and has a very good routine at home which he follows to a T... For a child who is so clock-work and so routine (and that's his doing, not mine... I'm pretty erratic whereas both my kids are uber-routine kids!) Yet being forced to sit on my lap whilst we waited 10 minutes was enough to crack him. He howled the place down until I eventually distracted him ("Look at the lights! Look at the balloons! Look at the bubbles (Christmas decorations conveniently left hanging up in the Greek Hall!)" and so on...) Then the presenters came out and Tyler became excited... for all of about 5 minutes. He danced to the first song, then adamantly turned around to me, looked me straight in the eye, and said "No more, Mama... bye bye!"

"DUCKS ACHE!" I exclaimed (there's a new one for you learning to curse around toddlers!) $45, an hour's round trip, plus all the effort of getting Pa to come over, lug 2 kids and all the crap that comes with them into my car, and all for 5 minutes of sheer joy which in a heart-beat my son then dictated he'd had enough of it. We tried for another 15 minutes to get him involved and interested, but after that time he found a balloon, and merrily headed towards the door ready to leave. So we left.

It made me discuss with my dad about how Tyler seems to be a bit of a non-conformist when it comes to participating in groups / team activities, or going along with what everyone else is doing. Funnily, when I was a child my school report cards would denote similar traits, using descriptors like "Emma is very capable and bright, yet needs to learn to apply herself in groups. If she does so she can achieve anything" and "Emma is often distracted and likes to dictate what she is doing rather than follow along with the other children in group activities". Teachers would report (as would I myself, back to my mother) that I would often be bored with activities and would yearn to be extended or given individual tasks unique just to me.

Now I'll be real. I know he's only 23 months old. But when I see other children at playgroup go along with the group activities with ease (ie. story-time - children much younger than Tyler will grab their cushion, sit down quietly and listen to the story and participate in songs) or at our Movement to Music class (worst experience ever! Tyler wouldn't stay and participate with the group, instead he made it his mission to explore every nook of the church it's held in, including the pastor's quarters!) it makes me wonder why on earth he won't just do what everyone else is doing. His play-time is very similar at home - you can't direct him as to what to do or how to play, he dictates his method and mode...

It makes me consider exploring other options for him when it comes to education. Whilst I know he eventually has to learn how to conform with everyone else (face it mate, it's a part of life) I sometimes wonder whether I should satiate this appetite for freedom, self-direction and non-conformism by giving him options-based learning (like Homeschooling... or Steiner Schooling). Unfortunately, our schooling options are limited in my home-town. It's a choice between the local government primary school (where my mother also works), the regimented Catholic private school, or home-schooling. We don't have anything like the Waldorf based systems here, and if I was adamant about sending my children to such a school, we'd be forced to move to the City. Homeschooling on the otherhand would mean I wouldn't be able to work full-time once I'm post-grad. These are all issues far too ahead in the future to worry about now, but it does make me want to consider my options thoroughly before thrusting my kids into an institution which may not "work" for them.

Love to hear other people's stories on raising "non-conformist" children, or who participate in "alternative" education. Feel free to contact me / comment / write on our Facebook Page (Not So Suzy on Facebook)!

Bier Mit Bebe...

So last night I indulged in a few beers with friends at the pub - something I've not done in a long, long while (considering I spent 18 out of 27 months pregnant, it kinda goes without saying!) I wasn't planning it, but I figured it wasn't too bad an evening weather wise, I had a rain-cover and plenty of warm clothes for her should it turn nasty, and was prepared that should I have to go for any reason, I'd just leg it and go...

I figured Maya is 5 and a half months old now, and relatively predictable, hence I should be able to cope with a couple of beers under my belt. Of course I was sensible - did not leave myself obliterated and unable to deal with an emergency in the night should it arise. But regardless of my self-control and moderation, I still felt guilty!

Why on earth should I feel guilty about having a couple of drinks? Do other mums feel this way when they have a tipple around their tots? I know plenty of households where the children have grown up amongst dinner parties where the wine flows freely and the parents wake up to toddlers shoving playdough up their nose mid-hangover. And those children turned out just fine! I don't know where my guilt stemmed from, but whilst I held a beer in one hand, and gently watched Maya with the other, I just felt BAD.

Something I'm working through on a personal level at the moment is "permission". Permission to do my own thing occasionally. Perhaps this itself is an issue of permission, too. I've recently started putting Maya down in the bedroom for naps and when she goes to bed at night, rather than letting her nap out in the lounge-room with me by her side during the daytime and early evenings. That way I feel like I have permission to do my own shebang, knowing she's getting as good a sleep alone as she would be if I were watching her.

On the plus side, despite the guilt, I had an enjoyable evening. It was nice to indulge in some cheery pub banter with adult people in contrast to the baby-babble I speak all day long to my 2 under 2... and nice to see some faces I'd not seen in a while.

I think that alone makes it worth it. I'd love to hear how other parents go about ensuring their own social lives are feeling fulfilled and even whether they feel it's right/wrong to indulge in the occasional revelry. Hence comments on this topic are more than welcome - in fact, I look forward to them :)

Get me a bucket!

"The primary cause of unhappiness is never the situation but your thoughts about it."
— Eckhart Tolle

So my son was "sick" sick for the first time ever last night. He's always been pretty resilient to stomach-bugs, and has never thrown up (besides baby possetting) until late yesterday evening. Poor thing is a tactile baby, hence the most upsetting thing for him was not the feeling unwell (post-sick he proceeded to run around and keep playing with his toys) - it was the fact he'd got himself wet and messy. He's not a great coper with having dirty clothes, messy hands, or being wet. Something as simple as a piece of sticky-tape stuck to the bottom of his sock is enough to make him get semi-frantic, so 8 rounds of throwing up all over himself was disastrous for the poor little mite.

I've learnt I'm relatively good at dealing with it. Probably my nursing background helps - I deal with it as I would a patient or client on the job. Keep my composure, get everything cleaned up, and the sick itself doesn't really seem to affect me at the time. So the experience has taught me I can be pretty low-key about it all, which I think helped Tyler bounce back from it too. But at the same time, I do talk about it to other people. I rang my mum and dad several times throughout, and recollected the account to a best friend, and look - I'm even blogging about it!

However in contrast, I don't cope with being sick myself well AT all... Tyler's upset tummy was clearly viral, and no amount of nitrile glove wearing, hand sanitiser rubbing, Canasten hygienic laundry washing was going to stop me picking it up too. So lo and behold, at 3:30am I woke up feeling foul and intensely thirsty. I walked out to the kitchen to get a drink and needed to lay down on the floor feeling faint. Within minutes I found myself being sick into my favourite decorative vase-bowl (only thing within my reach!) and sobbed wishing someone would come along and look after me. Yep, I'm a real sook...

However what I wasn't expecting was how AMAZING I felt afterwards! I felt like I had purged a nasty demon from my body! I felt fantastic. Cleansed and renewed. I cleaned up, went back to bed, slept a happy 4 more hours and woke up feeling invigorated.

The process I went through made me refer to Eckhart Tolle's teachings about "the pain body" and how its presence and manifestation can be felt through various channels, such as sadness, anger, and even physical pain and illness. Tolle surmises that a negative energy can occupy our bodies and mind, it's a collective of negative emotions hung onto from past experience (whether that be recent past or deep past). We can consider the "pain body" to be parasitic to our emotions and feelings which as a result can manifest in physical states also. The "pain body" within us likes to feed and thrives on negativity, and can cause us to find ourselves in negative states or situations which nurture this "pain body", and will gain strength through the expression of this negativity (ie. will relish in your physical pain, your illness, your ire or your despair).

In retrospect of last night's experience, I could associate the "food" my pain-body was thriving off as being the stress that was created from the situation I was in with my son, and the drama I chose to create surrounding it. As much as I dealt with the tangible/physical aspects of Tyler's illness easily, I succumbed to making some fuss over the ordeal through talking to friends/family about it. I could have not done so, and the situation would still have been physically dealt with, but without the emotional/stressy drama I unnecessarily created about it. So then, when I found myself feeling sick and woeful, it was like I was purging myself of what had created. And instead of giving in to the pain-body, feeding it further by letting me feel upset and dreary about being sick myself, I consciously chose to let it go and felt the goodness from it instead.

This may all sound nuts - and a lot to be said about what essentially just boils down to my son having a tummy bug and me contracting it to - however I'm using it as an example to create some awareness of the pain-body concept, as I recommend more people look into the concept and take from it anything they can. Further reading can be found here: The pain body by Eckhart Tolle

It's definitely a good thing to be aware of the negative energies that exist within us and manifest itself through emotions and physical states, as once the presence of the pain-body/negativity is acknowledged, learning to not give into it is easier attained. I'm very grateful to the person who first introduced me to the concept, and I know they are further grateful to the person who taught it to them... If only one of you takes something from this post, then that's a good thing :)

Eckhart Tolle's book "A New Earth" can be followed via Oprah's Website (I'm not generally a huge Oprah fan, aside from the fact that I love her production company is called "Harpo" which is "Oprah" spelt backwards...! :P) however on her website there's a few activities and exercises which can be carried out whilst reading the book. I've not been reading the book for long, but I do think there is some benefit to the exercises on her site, so I'll include the link to that as well: A New Earth: Exercises for Your Awakening - Oprah.com.

Peace out - I'm off to enjoy my day :)