tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55198801666343341032024-03-05T15:21:34.243+09:30Anything Kel...Sometimes I need a filter between my brain and my mouth. This is not the way to get one...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08881726731449136425noreply@blogger.comBlogger372125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519880166634334103.post-4999220122914960602016-04-27T09:00:00.000+09:302016-05-02T20:18:07.415+09:30Oliver Wyatt-Leigh<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Oliver Wyatt-Leigh</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Born 10:20am, Wednesday 24th June 2015 </b></div>
<br />
Oh my little man - you have been ours for ten whole months and I'm only just sitting down to finish your birth story. On the off chance that we ever had another baby, their birth story would be written out sometime around their 21st birthday.Thankfully, the birth of my children is something that has a tendency to stick in my head so, have no fear, every detail will be preserved for you right here.<br />
<br />
You were born on Wednesday 24th June, 2015 at 10:20am, in a comfy birthing suite at Royal Darwin Hospital with the loveliest midwife delivering you. Her name was Michelle. <br />
<br />
I had been having irregular contractions through the night, but I wasn't at all convinced I would go into labour because <a href="http://anythingeverythinginbetween.blogspot.com.au/2015/12/things-ive-learnt-this-time-around.html" target="_blank">nature had been torturing me for a few weeks by this point</a>. I just lay in bed with my eyes closed, pretending to sleep. I am a complete pro at feigning sleep - all mothers are. You could be standing by the side of the bed, screaming at us that your leg just fell off and you're not sure where you left the severed limb and we would be able to just lay there, listening, without the slightest blip of alertness passing our faces. This is also because we can tell the difference between genuine distress and the odd excuses you lot seem to come up with to get us out of bed.<br />
<br />
At about 6am your Dad got up to have his shower to get ready for work. You decided that all this stuffing around was over-rated and that if contractions were happening anyway, why not use them to bust your popsicle stand. My water broke at 6:10am by the side of the bed - booyah! 3 babies, and not one drop of amniotic fluid has touched our bed. You and I calmly waddled our way to the bathroom to let Daddy know, and then we went and paced the lounge room for a while while Daddy finished up and then he called the hospital. Pacing had increased the regularity of the contractions and they were enough to take my breath away by 6:45am. The hospital said to get people in cars and to get to the hospital ASAP.<br />
<br />
Apparently no one wanted another car delivery. Chickens.<br />
<br />
Your Dad woke your sisters - it probably would have been easier to poke two starving wolverines with a stick while wearing a meat suit - and took charge of dressing said wolverines amidst a barrage of 'I'm too tired!', 'I don't want a baby brother today!' and 'Those shorts don't go with that top!' from Elena and something like 'Mmmph grunt snarfle snort burp' and quite possibly 'pffffffft' from Hermione. Just like your Mum, your sisters are not morning people. But your Dad soldiered on, packing things while I hopped into the shower for some warm water therapy, and then Daddy called your Nanna (who was already on her way to work) and asked ever so kindly if she could watch your sisters. Given that she was already 3/4 of the way to the hospital, it made no sense for her to drive all the way back to our house and me wind up with a home birth (especially since I was now moaning my way through contractions like a demented cow), so we agreed to meet in the hospital car park and do a hand over there.<br />
<br />
My suggestion was your Dad could drop your sisters off calmly in the carpark but I was going to throw myself out of the car, tuck and roll through the hospital doors and beg someone for gas and air. Just because I had opted for another natural birth, it didn't mean I couldn't roll up to the gas and air wagon for a good time while I was at it! <br />
<br />
By 7:30am we were on our way to the hospital, but the best thing is that your Dad can navigate early morning traffic like no one else and knows all the quickest ways around dodgy lights that sit on red for too long. Do you know what I discovered during this car ride? A six year old constantly asking questions about what's happening to you and trying to answer with as much calm as humanly possible while someone tries to claw their way out of your body is an awesome method to make the car ride feel 3 times longer than it actually is.<br />
<br />
I gained a massive lesson in self control that morning. What I really wanted to do was scream 'EVERYONE SHUT UP RIGHT NOW AND STOP TALKING TO ME BEFORE I MURDER YOU ALL', but what I believe came out of my mouth was some very sensible, child friendly answers about labour.<br />
<br />
We were at the hospital by 8am, and your sisters weren't even unbuckled from their seats - your Dad threw his keys at your Nanna, your Nanna kissed me on the head and encouraged me with a gentle push in the middle of my back to keep me moving forward and your sisters called out something inaudible from the open car windows. As those hospital doors gently glided open I swear I heard angels...who had gas and air with them.<br />
<br />
Made it to the elevators. All six of them. To discover that five were out of order. It was at that point I had an out of body experience. My brain decided this was the best thing for everyone because no one wants to see a labouring woman frothing at the mouth and screaming abuse at broken elevators, so I enjoyed a moment of floaty peace before descending and didn't kill everyone in the lobby.<br />
<br />
Cue midwife who materialised out of nowhere, made all the non-labouring people stand aside and helped me and another labouring Mum into the only working elevator and straight up to delivery. There may have been a brief moment of insanity where I was convinced I was about to give birth to you in a lift...I'm not sure if I mentioned this to your Dad or not, but if I did I'm confident he would have responded with something along the lines of 'like hell you are!'. Your Dad was adamant he would never have to be delivering another one of his children in a weird spot. Spoil sport.<br />
<br />
I don't recall much of the walk from the lift to the birth suite. But I do recall a familiar voice when Michelle announced herself as our midwife - I was so happy as she had been with us through our previous admissions, and I think she was as familiar with your heartbeat as your Dad and I were. I also love her because one of the first things she offered me was gas and air. And another warm shower - which ended abruptly when they thought you were ready to drop!<br />
<br />
I would just like to state right now that gas and air is over-rated. Big time. I know I threw the mouthpiece away in disgust at one point because it felt so pointless. Your Dad assures me it was a 60/40 mix, but I'm convinced the dentist has given me a better buzz. Given the effort it took to suck that stuff through the line, you would think you'd earn a decent whack of nitrous oxide. Nope. Nada. Zilch.<br />
<br />
It's all hype. I was heartbroken. I recall begging your Dad to let me have an epidural at one point (as if he could have stopped me if I really wanted it! HA!) but with his encouragement, and the crushing of his phalanges, we did it with nothing. Again.<br />
<br />
Holy shit it hurts.<br />
<br />
But after four hours and 20 minutes of labour, a senior midwife coming in and breaking my water for a second time, your head crowning one second after that, one attempt to launch myself off the bed (because I decided I wanted to get away from the pain and that meant leaving my lower half in the hospital while my upper half went to the cafe for a coffee and waited patiently for a birth announcement), a midwife asking kindly if I wouldn't mind putting the top half of my body back on the bed and three of the quickest pushes of my life...<br />
<br />
You were here.<br />
<br />
And you are perfect.<br />
<br />
And the first thing that came out of my mouth was..."Is it still a boy??"<br />
<br />
Part of me wasn't convinced you were a boy, only physical evidence was going to convince me that I wouldn't be dressing another cherub in frills and I'd have to swap it out for suspenders and superheroes. Much to your Dad's dismay, I have squirreled away several frilly things your sisters wore that I can't bear to part with...and while I may have put your hair in little piggy tails I know that I'll never buy a set of baby girls frilly bloomers ever again.<br />
<br />
You latched on right away which was a new experience for me as well as you! Lucky baby number 3, my body finally got it's act together and decided to let me feed you and I got to experience waking up thinking I was being crushed to death by my own mammary glands, and squirting breast milk across the bathroom at the sound of you crying - freaking hilarious!<br />
<br />
You and I got some skin to skin bonding while everyone cleaned up around us and Daddy made phone calls to people about your safe arrival. You were weighed and measured (6lb 7oz, or 3.08kg and 47cm long) and received your vitamin K injection. You weren't very impressed, but you were satisfied when you were brought back over and were able to snuggle in with me.<br />
<br />
Daddy held you for a bit while I had a short nap, and after 4 hours we were discharged to go home. A part of me might have wondered if I was insane not staying longer and getting some bedside service for a couple of days, but to be honest I was just keen to go home, get comfy and settle in for the adventure ahead.<br />
<br />
Your Nanna and Pop brought your sisters home that evening, after we had some quiet time with just you, me and Daddy. They crept in through the front door and came over to look at you. It was love at first sight. They were so excited to finally be able to hold you and see you - ultrasound images were just never going to cut it when it came to your sisters. They marvelled over your tiny fingers and toes, and laughed when they realised you naturally curled up like a shrimp when you were put in your bassinette to sleep.<br />
<br />
Nanna and Pop oohed and ahhed over you, cuddled you and snuggled your sisters close with you in a little cocoon. And we announced your full name which gives a sensible, and not completely bizarre nod to your Daddy's love of superheroes (I'm just grateful your name wasn't anything from StarWars) and a special nod to Mummy's family. Mummy's family will see your name and they'll know what I mean.<br />
<br />
While we waited for your arrival we were dealing with some sadness, as your great-grandfather was very ill. Your Pop had flown to Adelaide to see him and say goodbye, but we couldn't go as it was too high risk with your due date being so close. If giving birth in a car was interesting I think giving birth on a plane might just be one step too far, even for me.<br />
<br />
I like to think that your great-grandfather held on to make sure you came into the world safe - he was in the world when you arrived, just like he was for all his great-grandchildren. And for that I will always be grateful. We couldn't be there for the funeral as you were too little to travel, but I know your great-grandfather wouldn't mind.<br />
<br />
<b>He knows you as well as we do because your souls danced together before final hello's and goodbye's.</b><br />
<br />
Needless to say so much has happened in the last ten months, and we
can't wait to see what the future holds for our little family of five.
You are so loved and adored by your sisters and you love them...but the
three of you are already discovering those little things you can do to
annoy each other, just because you can. The bond between you all is
strong and I can see it leading in all sorts of directions as you grow
older.<br />
<br />
You love playing chasey with your sisters (you're in your walker and scream around like a race car driver, and I have the skid marks on the wood floors to prove it!) and you love being outside. You stood up for the first time without holding on to anything on ANZAC Day 2016, and you have been showing off your new skill ever since. But the moment I bring out the camera? Nothing. Clearly I'll have to pull out some ninja moves to catch you in the act.<br />
<br />
You have an intense relationship with the cat, but the dog regards you as just one more small thing in the house that uses him as a foot stool/jungle gym, and he's cool with that. His main mission is to remain vigilant and protect you lot. He is only cuddly with your Dad and has tried many times to shove me down the front stairs as I'm so far down the chain of command he'd sit for a stranger before he would me, but we know if the chips were down he would chew the arm off of anyone who tried to hurt us.<br />
<br />
You are so much like your Daddy in both looks and temperament, and you have so much hair! Your sisters were practically bald until they were 12 months or so, but you've had thick curls since the moment you arrived and they just keep getting longer, blonder and curlier by the day. I love it.<br />
<br />
<br />
So this is the story of you and your adventures so far. To our little man, the final piece to our puzzle...you make us complete.<br />
<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXIrhzsBGiYxtSR6Sw0pldeTniQnmx-5SttQFH03O91hqtNfZb-W23nONMujjAv6l3s1TE2LRayjlpYYl7CSHSIJ0RrD1g2IVD8kARvOEyJMbCYHI2bl06WOM6qGNwbidLg-KhsF5xz9oU/s1600/2015-10-16+15.45.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXIrhzsBGiYxtSR6Sw0pldeTniQnmx-5SttQFH03O91hqtNfZb-W23nONMujjAv6l3s1TE2LRayjlpYYl7CSHSIJ0RrD1g2IVD8kARvOEyJMbCYHI2bl06WOM6qGNwbidLg-KhsF5xz9oU/s320/2015-10-16+15.45.09.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photography by <a href="http://www.danielleandreoli.com.au/who-is-danielle-andreoli/" target="_blank">Danielle Andreoli</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ0m_4Mqq-o78dONEvSjiClWSNbtQmIo6RRYKZmKBx7f7e2SKUiZbu-7Y5j3ypnQPExldUJl-7CFdAQ2xaHfJNNvZw7TBBiyEDk7T9gHoCsjMhpS-Re0pGyGdQZJKr9N9miFW9F5Ndy3aU/s1600/2015-10-16+15.45.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ0m_4Mqq-o78dONEvSjiClWSNbtQmIo6RRYKZmKBx7f7e2SKUiZbu-7Y5j3ypnQPExldUJl-7CFdAQ2xaHfJNNvZw7TBBiyEDk7T9gHoCsjMhpS-Re0pGyGdQZJKr9N9miFW9F5Ndy3aU/s320/2015-10-16+15.45.10.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photography by <a href="http://www.danielleandreoli.com.au/who-is-danielle-andreoli/" target="_blank">Danielle Andreoli</a></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOQC59zJFAep7gPzsPz8PHI8cRvbK3BAo8XNG-RF0_9JwWOzj7EjHOEy6oWZomDtsAvTM05fZeHpmAOQM2bn3ZWRGGBFZdAFz2gq5BIXB8tGglhP3wBxzdbROe-3LULTuOyJRrxPzaKlqL/s1600/2016-01-12+00.09.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOQC59zJFAep7gPzsPz8PHI8cRvbK3BAo8XNG-RF0_9JwWOzj7EjHOEy6oWZomDtsAvTM05fZeHpmAOQM2bn3ZWRGGBFZdAFz2gq5BIXB8tGglhP3wBxzdbROe-3LULTuOyJRrxPzaKlqL/s320/2016-01-12+00.09.17.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photography by <a href="http://www.danielleandreoli.com.au/who-is-danielle-andreoli/" target="_blank">Danielle Andreoli</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08881726731449136425noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519880166634334103.post-66727683849590267552015-12-17T09:00:00.000+09:302015-12-17T09:00:06.524+09:30The Acidic Observer - The Christmas 2015 EditionSo 2015 is coming to a close. And marks 2 years since I become a full time SAHM.<br />
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For me, this is a huge milestone and one that I thought I would be 100% comfortable with.<br />
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Unless you consider all the interesting conundrums this milestone has thrown at me.<br />
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In the last 2 years, this whole SAHM situation has given me a challenge in the sense of viewing myself differently. I'm still working on that. Considering my entire teen and married life was focused on being financially independent and being of 'equal' value to the partnership, it's a mindset that's been hard to break.<br />
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It's made even more difficult when you have 50% of the world saying that being a SAHM is more important than working, and the other 50% saying you a contributing to the devaluation of women in the workplace by chaining yourself to the stove top.<br />
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Well, my apologies to the bra-burning uber-feminists, but I thought the whole point of fighting for equal rights was to give people the choice? Not stand there, lecturing people on how your sagging breasts should make me want to work 4 jobs just to prove a point.<br />
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Then you have the 'Trim, Taught and Terrific Brigade'. And they issue things like this...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://resources0.news.com.au/images/2013/10/17/1226741/592980-83c308c0-36b1-11e3-9051-f1cffb9afa3c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://resources0.news.com.au/images/2013/10/17/1226741/592980-83c308c0-36b1-11e3-9051-f1cffb9afa3c.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image found <a href="http://resources0.news.com.au/images/2013/10/17/1226741/592980-83c308c0-36b1-11e3-9051-f1cffb9afa3c.jpg" target="_blank">here</a></td></tr>
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Apparently having ripped abs makes you a better mother? Or just a self-indulgent sociopath? I'm not sure. Mrs Woog had some fabulous things to say about this. <a href="http://www.woogsworld.com/2014/02/fat-people-lazy.html" target="_blank">You should go read it</a>.<br />
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Honestly, I am so exhausted by all the social media bashing of every single trait a person could possibly display by being an individual member of the human race.<br />
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<i>Although I will agree that people who don't use their indicators should be slapped. Repeatedly. With a chair.</i><br />
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Someone, somewhere, always seems to have a problem with fit people, with relaxed people, with uptight people, with work focused people, with 'hippies', with vegans, with gluten free, with coloured people, with ethnic people, with people who have kids, with people who don't have kids, with people who have lots of money, with people who live with less money, with people who choose to do, be, behave or think ANYTHING different to ourselves. Can we just fucking stop it already?!<br />
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Am I one of these people? Hell yes I am! Don't think I'm judging those spandex clad mummies at school just because I wish I was thinner (which I do - I would give an internal organ to have the metabolism of Miss 6!). No, I'm judging them because they behave as though their body type makes them superior human beings. Or perhaps it's an external display of over confidence to hide the fact that they suffer from a crippling form of self doubt and the only way they know how to deal with it is by being on a treadmill every spare second of their life?<br />
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None of us are entitled to think of ourselves as better. We are all different. If we were all the same it would mean we were all boring as hell...not to mention a bunch of inbreeding lunatics. Sorry - I'll take individuality every time.<br />
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Sure, there are things I would change about myself - but those are MY issues and demeaning another person, or group of people, simply to make myself feel more secure is despicable. And being thinner, prettier, taller or less in love with baked goods won't change who I am in the inside, and I like who I am (most of the time...I always have to apologise for the things I might have said when I'm hungry).<br />
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If you're ugly on the inside, the outside isn't going to fix that. Donald Trump's hair is a true example of that...<br />
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At the end of the day I have nothing to be competitive about with anyone.<br />
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I have a loving husband, 3 healthy children, a safe home for our family, food on the table, clean clothes, books to read, family and friends who can make me laugh so hard I shoot coffee out my nose and a little business that means I paint my nails all the time. I have easy access to healthcare, clean water and a car. What more could a girl want?!<br />
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Okay, one thing I would love that I don't have? The serenity of visiting the bathroom without someone barging in demanding my immediate assistance. Or just standing outside the door, bashing on it in an apparent attempt to motivate my bodily functions to complete that little bit faster because there is a sticker that needs to be stuck, and it needs to be stuck NOW!<br />
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There, I said it.<br />
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But my life is certainly not a crappy one for simple lack of privacy. Okay, sometimes I think that lack of privacy is a bullshit side effect of having children, but that's mostly when my children are announcing things in a loud voice in a public bathroom.<br />
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Basically I wish we could all stop being arseholes long enough to realise that we all have our issues and we should be grateful for what we have and who we are. None of us are getting out of this alive.<br />
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So to you and your families I wish a very Merry Christmas and a safe New Year full of appreciation for what you have and compassion for those whom you can help. <i>And that includes yourself.</i><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08881726731449136425noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519880166634334103.post-14394083271308719042015-12-16T16:51:00.001+09:302015-12-16T16:51:08.838+09:30Things I've Learnt - This Time AroundWell, it's been 18 months since I last posted. Not that I haven't had anything to say in that time - the motivation to sit down and type it out wasn't there.<br />
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At. All.<br />
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I have been doing things, and generally speaking my Facebook page reflects that. The most significant events? Surviving being a SAHM to 2 of the most headstrong girls on the planet, the eldest starting transition (2014) and now Year 1 and discovering the terrifying world of school pick-up and school drop-off. If high school didn't prepare me for a world of 'your body fat percentage is over 1% - you are therefore a lower grade version of a person', then holy cow has being a school mum opened my eyes! Personally I think all these women have shares in a spandex production company and are afraid that demand is falling.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The beginning of year 1, January 2015.</td></tr>
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On the bright side, it means I still get to be the cool mum who volunteers in the classroom and who knows all the kids names. I did it all through transition. Brain food prep, listening to the kids read, helping with craft - I rocked the shit out of it all!! Miss H has a cult following, but is far less comfortable with the popularity than I am. The kids are also fascinated by my bump.<br />
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Oh - did I not mention my bump? Well, it's just one more thing I've been doing...growing a baby brother for our 2 girls while trying not to lose what little sanity I have left. That's a daily battle which isn't always successful - but I have high hopes of rehabilitation once I'm no longer pregnant.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPK21a6RkN5C6_zR17aca2wDfywGNDMDKZZS9kbQEsIdAewbCBL0OPq8ieMHgzmwo47jDld26KQbkBSYqiKGQzfcNf6-vdgz31W3-OoXuuk566kuoGFdPXLSAjkRpSbk8HZ-aLVzn4Eta-/s1600/2014-11-28+19.30.15-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPK21a6RkN5C6_zR17aca2wDfywGNDMDKZZS9kbQEsIdAewbCBL0OPq8ieMHgzmwo47jDld26KQbkBSYqiKGQzfcNf6-vdgz31W3-OoXuuk566kuoGFdPXLSAjkRpSbk8HZ-aLVzn4Eta-/s320/2014-11-28+19.30.15-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bump Announcement!</td></tr>
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This pregnancy has been far from easy. I look back on pregnancy 1 and 2 with fondness and remember the carefree days of being able to waddle my way around without a care in the world. Yes, there was the odd <a href="http://anythingeverythinginbetween.blogspot.com/2012/07/riding-in-cars-with-boys.html" target="_blank">occurrence of nausea</a> and I'll admit to eating my body weight in chocolate donuts during my first foray into the world of cravings. There was even a moment of disgust and horror when I realised I had been sitting at my desk eating watermelon coated in gravy without a single hesitation.<br />
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Truly, I figured I had already conquered the dark side of growing people and there was nothing left to be afraid of.<br />
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Cue pregnancy 3.<br />
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Holy mother of all that is truly fucked up on this planet, was I wrong. I had never really heard of Hyperemesis Gravidarum before - and mostly it was in relation to Princess Kate when she was growing George. It seemed like an exotic and high class way of saying 'Kate is spending most of her days face-timing with her gold-leaf toilet block and not having the strength to wash the spew from her hair'.<br />
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I was in this unenviable position from weeks 9 to 30. And this included Christmas. Christmas, people! The one time of year you won't be judged for the volume consumed at the table, and then on the couch and possibly later, while laying in bed.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh34N-98qEAbaQPw2AAr1h6Ajg_9b7_3LF18Gp7Pzj17s0keVh7cw9KBNjDv9YKSNIenkuqsk-sY1jZEyapVMSt7Ydt245ycqpexCt-6tEqeFgBPEwnc41qporLRgTukkBg86q-z6KlO_cr/s1600/2014-12-11+17.33.29-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh34N-98qEAbaQPw2AAr1h6Ajg_9b7_3LF18Gp7Pzj17s0keVh7cw9KBNjDv9YKSNIenkuqsk-sY1jZEyapVMSt7Ydt245ycqpexCt-6tEqeFgBPEwnc41qporLRgTukkBg86q-z6KlO_cr/s320/2014-12-11+17.33.29-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The exhaustion following Christmas shopping.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Browsing for the Christmas menu.</td></tr>
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It also co-incided with The Man taking a road trip to Queensland with his brother. For 2 weeks. While I alternated between trying to keep a 5yo, a 2yo, a dog and a cat alive with removing my head from the toilet bowl long enough to sip some water.<br />
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It wasn't pretty, and to all those Mum's out there that have experienced this and had the strength/courage/insanity to risk it again and again to complete their families - you have my unending admiration and sympathies. We knew this baby would be our last, regardless. After The Man got home, I was fully prepared to perform his vasectomy on the kitchen bench with a blunt knife and then check myself in to a mental institution.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAfL1nm9XV4gf1G6_ONh9otqY0-yN0q_d0PAGLKQ3L1DNOIYRqMAkUrHkrh3H9hM-VzrV1KVcUJ9RDTOjak3M2pnfznabr98_Yp8GZdt3WGsXRjz7Tb_ThOiMbKPiG1GTGB4ku-7tF8h4Q/s1600/2015-01-30+16.12.09.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAfL1nm9XV4gf1G6_ONh9otqY0-yN0q_d0PAGLKQ3L1DNOIYRqMAkUrHkrh3H9hM-VzrV1KVcUJ9RDTOjak3M2pnfznabr98_Yp8GZdt3WGsXRjz7Tb_ThOiMbKPiG1GTGB4ku-7tF8h4Q/s320/2015-01-30+16.12.09.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bump progression.</td></tr>
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By week 30, things had settled enough that my stomach no longer rattled with the volume of medications I was on. I was enjoying spending less time with the toilet bowl, and more time outside with my children and re-introducing myself to a lovely thing called 'food' and another called 'life'. I should have relished it more.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvJxqz3lP2oFmco0IDMTuF2__SHPiIKaj9aFdk9l2RTrF-3DzCWvi-wvW376imCvmFMN9BkKTsGhD9132M_2GkzdXlfosOZcz1zlGPSBDXaC396BJnTxeWdV7Gc6kQdvRIuSma4oCVXkKB/s1600/2015-01-03+20.55.31.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvJxqz3lP2oFmco0IDMTuF2__SHPiIKaj9aFdk9l2RTrF-3DzCWvi-wvW376imCvmFMN9BkKTsGhD9132M_2GkzdXlfosOZcz1zlGPSBDXaC396BJnTxeWdV7Gc6kQdvRIuSma4oCVXkKB/s320/2015-01-03+20.55.31.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She lost her first tooth!</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ3qwoJtdcaMTvuFEZmGuii0oopAaIwTNCOWH3UIq14LXbTsp4xyqZ3TdHhIsQ2fBSjdoxLPt6S5fLCASwEkicAsNEBDBF5LIuzxYeg-Ygyj0VexIlV5lfK7RmXit-vRRels5kf2Sl84M5/s1600/2015-01-18+19.54.30.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ3qwoJtdcaMTvuFEZmGuii0oopAaIwTNCOWH3UIq14LXbTsp4xyqZ3TdHhIsQ2fBSjdoxLPt6S5fLCASwEkicAsNEBDBF5LIuzxYeg-Ygyj0VexIlV5lfK7RmXit-vRRels5kf2Sl84M5/s320/2015-01-18+19.54.30.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ65Jm9NQb7n1VCFXo9Gb-9SuP-LuMLhiJsaBkd98OWOLp_lyMNpjOrYOkvwKQpovvQRz1fdfL_aMAq_gj8LISc64uD6o0nrxdeLiMza5QZmD8FpSmZUYfcEWW0wTBCbwe7DRCw4BpVCi1/s1600/2015-01-31+16.07.35-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ65Jm9NQb7n1VCFXo9Gb-9SuP-LuMLhiJsaBkd98OWOLp_lyMNpjOrYOkvwKQpovvQRz1fdfL_aMAq_gj8LISc64uD6o0nrxdeLiMza5QZmD8FpSmZUYfcEWW0wTBCbwe7DRCw4BpVCi1/s320/2015-01-31+16.07.35-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A certain someone learned to swim.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3GcgYUvflTEsFOy5REwpTwh2sYIutg1vE3yCe_E95V02eCeD0XljqgHdmWx8N2DTgMkAoyO96ri7JTx87oJX_3eETM3yVYRoTN_uAApLfyU7tnMblcgT_8d1P0ymurO-rLvzrO-bKHEqQ/s1600/2015-01-31+16.08.25.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3GcgYUvflTEsFOy5REwpTwh2sYIutg1vE3yCe_E95V02eCeD0XljqgHdmWx8N2DTgMkAoyO96ri7JTx87oJX_3eETM3yVYRoTN_uAApLfyU7tnMblcgT_8d1P0ymurO-rLvzrO-bKHEqQ/s320/2015-01-31+16.08.25.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And this girl just continued with her Hayley Lewis skills.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK79V2UhGlLsHxuSA0J2kXXhnLzveNjOrB7sa0r0Q8W9k32e9v1TZBSWXvN7-aEdjP1m8heEk24J8mtBhEP3OOLkvKT4ZCLf76hVt4zpar4bRdCYCDhQUANku5DOq7XeEZXOXiUS2wH1y_/s1600/2015-01-31+16.30.53.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK79V2UhGlLsHxuSA0J2kXXhnLzveNjOrB7sa0r0Q8W9k32e9v1TZBSWXvN7-aEdjP1m8heEk24J8mtBhEP3OOLkvKT4ZCLf76hVt4zpar4bRdCYCDhQUANku5DOq7XeEZXOXiUS2wH1y_/s320/2015-01-31+16.30.53.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bump progression in bathers.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaHSeQGAswb4SkJWdO7nI3hRWUEAAgzIIKrjkDRxlWRTloX0CiH-mBTV4We11qgtf-oxHUwkZ6s8E_kFl8vA26_hq7Bxzj4TMpjI0nwgRjvkvdCxgC22RlKgJz_gvAInGcZLvyuuej_Tiq/s1600/2015-03-13+11.52.03-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaHSeQGAswb4SkJWdO7nI3hRWUEAAgzIIKrjkDRxlWRTloX0CiH-mBTV4We11qgtf-oxHUwkZ6s8E_kFl8vA26_hq7Bxzj4TMpjI0nwgRjvkvdCxgC22RlKgJz_gvAInGcZLvyuuej_Tiq/s320/2015-03-13+11.52.03-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Participating in her school swim carnival. Participation was a lot different in my day!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkBisjYXEN-kwgrlrq-Zhhrr9KYey1ZMGdpLQOqmqjcUNdP4AA3f8SmEikIEuQZM2nl6zvvYQzYvXPXi3BAmNNM6cBz_4XgeqPsZePOirfFe_MW9-c-uzmec7YqlcRKBGxHFm5JeQB_cfY/s1600/2015-04-01+18.13.13-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkBisjYXEN-kwgrlrq-Zhhrr9KYey1ZMGdpLQOqmqjcUNdP4AA3f8SmEikIEuQZM2nl6zvvYQzYvXPXi3BAmNNM6cBz_4XgeqPsZePOirfFe_MW9-c-uzmec7YqlcRKBGxHFm5JeQB_cfY/s320/2015-04-01+18.13.13-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We enjoyed the rain.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd71XgpHQS_HsyNjeYMYUDmh6ct48zkolGzYnfXXamDC8j8CzjMZ6j4LLoo-wVPqeM89_SPf3jwNLTtLHGYT1WE1GIKyIWWo2HfnotY3AM-2GqlOND4EpFv59qJs50LfBMX_6yrH1BPjRG/s1600/2015-04-05+12.39.34-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd71XgpHQS_HsyNjeYMYUDmh6ct48zkolGzYnfXXamDC8j8CzjMZ6j4LLoo-wVPqeM89_SPf3jwNLTtLHGYT1WE1GIKyIWWo2HfnotY3AM-2GqlOND4EpFv59qJs50LfBMX_6yrH1BPjRG/s320/2015-04-05+12.39.34-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Further bump progression.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQCoZ1ypUWsiM5p_gwxVy0H1v2Yf-t3goD68-9mhXsbXigWqwbq7CRILRfDOseKd9tEp0QP8NwJQc7J_lIvL0KNOB0MJFYQcqYNvq9cGDgUFM-aPHYNzCaCHiZZCUQl6shvFS5NBAoHnL8/s1600/2015-05-03+21.17.19.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQCoZ1ypUWsiM5p_gwxVy0H1v2Yf-t3goD68-9mhXsbXigWqwbq7CRILRfDOseKd9tEp0QP8NwJQc7J_lIvL0KNOB0MJFYQcqYNvq9cGDgUFM-aPHYNzCaCHiZZCUQl6shvFS5NBAoHnL8/s320/2015-05-03+21.17.19.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Someone upgraded to a big girl bed.</td></tr>
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<br />
Week 32+6 - CONTRACTIONS!! Initially I thought it was just Braxton Hicks, but memory served long enough to remind me that they weren't supposed to hurt. Or come at regular intervals, specifically intervals that grew shorter while the pains lasted longer. Or give you the familiar sensation in your nether regions of birthing your second child...in the front seat of the car.<br />
<br />
I remained in denial while The Man called the hospital. While the hospital issued orders to get my arse in the car. While my Mum came over to stay with the girls. I refused to take a bag, a change of clothes - I wasn't even bothered by the fact that I had left my phone on the charger at home because I KNEW it would all stop in the car and I'd be home from the hospital in under 2 hours.<br />
<br />
Sometimes my reluctance to accept reality baffles even me.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBIdagwV9jHjCsYa7WouD7S4VNaSXS1m62z29_70Ssf6_ubJq-uKNGocrK9bJZ1JAadPkO_ue9eVrl75RuCJZ2c-dCj42NmVBkQx5MIPy3oT5RZg9ByibLK-JujaOdhHp-W4Q2HeSuOlRB/s1600/2015-05-08+18.08.16.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBIdagwV9jHjCsYa7WouD7S4VNaSXS1m62z29_70Ssf6_ubJq-uKNGocrK9bJZ1JAadPkO_ue9eVrl75RuCJZ2c-dCj42NmVBkQx5MIPy3oT5RZg9ByibLK-JujaOdhHp-W4Q2HeSuOlRB/s320/2015-05-08+18.08.16.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Admission 1</td></tr>
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<br />
I spent the next 3 days being pumped full of drugs to stop the contractions, hourly observations, regular tracings of bub and pain meds. Sleep had been a bit hit and miss, depending on pain, lack of comfort and general disturbance, but I really wanted to go home. I was released late on Mother's Day with threats ringing in my ears that if I didn't take it easy I'd be back in hospital. And as far as I was concerned I did take it easy!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjajJaKOFJeF6IFUbn1d1rGQCKWCKNeOgDWR6o6ngxrh_PhbjEAzm_z_xAj1Jfeen20PC0hGJs54p2rG0RzfzAw-CIHAq1cbEYYM-vI7lYgmD3L1PKbUDhfeIO93U5qZIKyoixIkYtWRazl/s1600/2015-05-09+10.52.15-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjajJaKOFJeF6IFUbn1d1rGQCKWCKNeOgDWR6o6ngxrh_PhbjEAzm_z_xAj1Jfeen20PC0hGJs54p2rG0RzfzAw-CIHAq1cbEYYM-vI7lYgmD3L1PKbUDhfeIO93U5qZIKyoixIkYtWRazl/s320/2015-05-09+10.52.15-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monitoring all those contractions and bubba movements.</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
2 weeks later I decided I was feeling awesome enough to take the girls to their friends birthday party at a local indoor playground. The Man had to go into the office, so made sure my Mum was with me 'just in case'. I told him he was being over cautious and I would be able to sit the whole time - what was the harm!?<br />
<br />
The party started at 2pm and by 4pm I was back in delivery suite with some poor doctor trying desperately to find a vein that wouldn't collapse before he got the IV in. I was treated to another few days in hospital, regular hospital meals doing it's best to look like tasty, edible food and all the Facebook/Twitter/Instagram/Pinterest browsing time a girl could need. Except that between the contractions and the regular checks I was still getting almost no sleep. Even though they had given me pain meds to manage at home after I was discharged last time, I was reluctant to take them because they zonked me out and I've never been one to willingly lose control. And my reluctance was at an all time high knowing that I didn't want to be incoherant while my kids needed me at home!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc6tP3cOfPglo2GfnPuiwj5tP1Bp7onKIEEACUW7WMzZu7N-jujaqUmqZMP9Bt_PS2eMisVPLfsant3lXccI-yJFbe2Kdv1iNCGg82QnUFNtVU_8-THPILnjS9O13P0ZvUa4CkLMvYBBJu/s1600/2015-05-19+15.13.53-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc6tP3cOfPglo2GfnPuiwj5tP1Bp7onKIEEACUW7WMzZu7N-jujaqUmqZMP9Bt_PS2eMisVPLfsant3lXccI-yJFbe2Kdv1iNCGg82QnUFNtVU_8-THPILnjS9O13P0ZvUa4CkLMvYBBJu/s320/2015-05-19+15.13.53-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Admission 2. </td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
Panadol took some of the edge off, but never enough to really cut through the discomfort. So considering that sleep was still hard to come by after 3 and a half weeks, cue complete sobbing meltdown with the nurse. After which the doctor came in and stabbed me with pethidine. I knew very little of the next 12 hours. They told me it would offer 4 hours of relief. I view the extra 8 hours I got as a fucking awesome bonus.<br />
<br />
Sadly, that meant they didn't administer it again. Bastards.<br />
<br />
After another few days I was released home, yet again, and this time under strict instructions to keep off my feet, with horizontal being my main angle. 90 degrees was acceptable with elevated feet. Vertical, other than for the purposes of visiting the toilet, was right out. I was just relieved that I was still allowed to wipe my own arse.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW8eYuOGomsUNSHgQt4AQ9fthTh6UCTuwloDzgib272ybpZduABVNrO9DJ94DBfLd3v8aCX2JUOSjr3QSOVTVUa2jXtVeiLxitazNLrfbCbPUONfna0l-dzwcPuReejPbF9n6TLgCK3zey/s1600/2015-05-12+10.55.39-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW8eYuOGomsUNSHgQt4AQ9fthTh6UCTuwloDzgib272ybpZduABVNrO9DJ94DBfLd3v8aCX2JUOSjr3QSOVTVUa2jXtVeiLxitazNLrfbCbPUONfna0l-dzwcPuReejPbF9n6TLgCK3zey/s320/2015-05-12+10.55.39-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Resting...</td></tr>
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Let's be honest, I was never, ever going to be their ideal patient. Not with 2 kids at home and a husband who has a demanding job. Have I been breaking the rules? A bit - not enough to be back in hospital, but just enough to keep the house running, the kids alive when The Man isn't home to help and enough to keep me sane. Perhaps because baby brain is the least of my concerns when it comes to losing mental functionality.<br />
<br />
Day time TV - you have a lot to answer for. Seriously, how are Ridge and Brooke having the SAME conversation, in the SAME room, wearing the SAME clothes they were 15 years ago?! More to the point, how on earth do I even recall the conversation from 15 years ago?! I blame my high school friends - they were all into B&B and I reluctantly* joined in so I could understand what they were talking about. (*reluctant may be the wrong word. A more correct term might be 'enthusiastically' but I'm not stating anything outright.) And the token Australian you stole from Neighbours - absolutely bloody awful! She's a countryman and I can't listen to her without wanting to claw my ears off.<br />
<br />
But to be honest, between watching ABC Kids (Miss 3) and endless videos of other people playing Minecraft (Miss 6), B&B is sometimes the only adult interaction I have in a day. Which is tragic. And worrying because I'm starting to think shoulder pads need to make a comeback.<br />
<br />
So there you have it - my life* in a post. (*not my whole life...I may have started this post 6 months ago...)<br />
<br />
Tell me, what have you been up to?<br />
<br />
<img border="0" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85865/cricketkp/5fe03b9cadd0658f2277344f8db1258f.png" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; background-color: white; border: 0px solid currentcolor; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; color: #666666; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; padding: 5px;" />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08881726731449136425noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519880166634334103.post-77566938206138837282014-01-21T15:10:00.000+09:302014-01-21T15:10:13.305+09:30The Acidic Observer - The Home EditionIt's been a while since the last Acidic Observer, and for that I'm sorry. I have been quietly swallowing my burning views, instead of ranting about them here, like a sanctioned looney.<br />
<br />
Thankfully, that mistake is being rectified as of now. And my aim, this week? The Darwin Housing Market.<br />
<br />
The Man and I have been looking at building a new home over the past few weeks - probably a more sensible use of our time would have been investigating the value of internal organs on the black market.<br />
<br />
Darwin property is at a peak, right now. To be honest we were lucky to have been able to buy a house when we did, back in 2010. Since then, the cost of property has skyrocketed. Why? Because of the Itchy Project! Well, it's actually the <a href="http://www.ichthysproject.com/" target="_blank">ICHTHYS Project</a>, but calling it the Itchy Project makes me feel better.<br />
<br />
It's all about gas mining and other boring stuff. Well there's more to it, but I'm just not that interested. Darwin was expensive enough without this sudden influx of interest - and while I'm sure local business, and not forgetting local developers, are loving the boom - the rest of us aren't!<br />
<br />
Well, not me, anyway.<br />
<br />
I also blame the state and local Governments for being so greedy that they release land in pissy amounts, driving up the price as people compete to be the newest owner of a fucking postage stamp.<br />
<br />
I'm sorry, but when land is costing the same amount as the home we want to build, I kinda lose my shit.<br />
<br />
And when I say kinda, I mean I morph into a wolverine and rip the head off of any unsuspecting realtor/developer who might enquire as to whether we are interested in purchasing this block before anyone else does. Even though we'd be lucky to fit a garden shed on it!<br />
<br />
Trust me when I say that those who are renting are being shafted left, right and centre, too. People/investors/greedy fucking bastards know they can make money from the influx of new employees of Itchy who need a home for their families. So what do they do? Up the rent to a bonkers level, dump the current tenants who can no longer afford it, and happily give it to a mining exec and their family who can afford $800+ a week because they're not paying for it. Gina Reinhardt is!<br />
<br />
Well, maybe not Gina - but you get the idea.<br />
<br />
Of course, just to really rub salt into the wound, I'm dumb enough to go onto realestate.com and look at the cost of building new in our hometown, in SA. Cue complete fucking meltdown as I ask the gods to strike down every single person in the NT who is contributing to the demented costing factor of a home.<br />
<br />
I feel like for the prices we're looking at, we should be living in Sydney or Melbourne. Next door to Hugh Jackman. With Nicole, Keith, Sunday Roast and...and...the other ones on the other side. We're not looking for sea views, we're not looking for 3 hectares and some livestock. It's Darwin, people! You know, the place where mangoes cost $4 each and are brought in from Queensland, even though there are mango farms down the road. Where diesel is 20-50 cents a litre more than anywhere else...everything takes twice as long and is twice the price because of 'shipping', and then when the Ghan derails (again) it means the shops start advising us that stock will be low and we will have to make our own deodorant and toilet paper until the train can get here again.<br />
<br />
IT'S DARWIN! We don't have a single department store. Even Freedom Furniture abandoned us!<br />
<br />
We only have 1 power and water supplier which is Government owned. But our power systems haven't been maintained properly so now the prices are increasing by 15% so the Government can afford to upgrade and bring Darwin out of the middle ages so the power won't drop out when a gerbil on a treadmill gets struck by lightening.<br />
<br />
The Darwin City Council slogs you $40 parking fines for being over your time limit in street parking - for the privilege of parking under a fucking frangipani tree where the flowers glue themselves to your car when it rains and secrete this disgusting white milky stuff everywhere. And then, of course, the bats shit all over your car. And then the rain clouds part and bake it all into the paint of your car so it needs to be re-done every 2 years.<br />
<br />
The housing situation is just one more tooth in the cog of 'what the fuck, Darwin!?'.<br />
<br />
It's all so painfully typical, I have no idea why I even get shitty anymore.<br />
<br />
I'd say it was hope that makes me think things will change - but really, it's denial. And it get's me through, until we want to move on with our lives.<br />
<br />
So overall, screw you Itchy, screw you Government and, today, screw you Darwin.<br />
<br />
You are all on my shit list until further notice, Or I win the lottery.<br />
<br />
Then I'm gonna move in next to Hugh.<br />
<br />
<br />
<img border="0" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85865/cricketkp/5fe03b9cadd0658f2277344f8db1258f.png" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; background-color: white; border: 0px solid currentcolor; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; color: #666666; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; padding: 5px;" /><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08881726731449136425noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519880166634334103.post-67950505221537399202014-01-10T12:22:00.001+09:302014-01-21T12:13:26.252+09:30Hair Wars (Scunci Girl Giveaway)Every parent has one task that they dread. And anyone who denies that fact, clearly has a nanny.<br />
<br />
It could be cleaning poo-splosions, it could be cleaning vomit - hell, it could be the task of WEARING vomit that makes you want to claw your eyes out.<br />
<br />
For me, it's hair.<br />
<br />
Miss 4 is just as unimpressed as I am.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://www.short-hair-style.com/images/how-to-fix-matted-hair-21282581.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.short-hair-style.com/images/how-to-fix-matted-hair-21282581.jpg" height="320" width="271" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px;">Image found <a href="http://www.short-hair-style.com/images/how-to-fix-matted-hair-21282581.jpg" target="_blank">here</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
No amount of cajoling, bribery, soothing sounds of the blue whale will make her sit still. Or stop screaming. I've tried the flip side - saying that I'll shave her bald like her Uncle M, or I'll never brush her hair again and she'll get a giant knot and rats will move in.<br />
<br />
Nope, nothing doing.<br />
<br />
I used every detangling spray known to man, every detangling shampoo, conditioner, balm, witchdoctor potion and, while they make the process a little easier, it still isn't enough to stop the dramatics entirely.<br />
<br />
The most successful combination I've found is a good quality shampoo and conditioner, a fantastic detangling comb, a sturdy paddle brush, and a quality detangling spray. To keep it all together, some tight braiding with snagless hair ties.<br />
<br />
With the volume of hair ties that get lost along the way - and the number of hair ties that claimed they were snagless, but the fact that I had to cut them out of Miss 4's hair made me think they were lying - I'm never keen to spend a fortune on them. But at the same time, you want to know you're using something that won't snap at the first sign of some tension.<br />
<br />
Enter the battle zone - Scunci Girl hair accessories!<br />
<br />
I've used Scunci for quite some time now, and I've always been happy with the cost and the quality. Their snagless hair ties are exactly that - I've never had to carve a Scunci hair tie out of a screaming child's hair.<br />
<br />
And the best thing about Scunci? Well, they are generously offering the chance for two Anything Kel readers to win a goodie bag full of their back to school range, including;<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk-YeD1vLe8JTRbBMnONPZrtEdoXkany5GXhyphenhyphenzYNDzuIoKpR2Umhh24ZkHm-LOIrwT1e_Vg4V12qh3HPb6E7hQXQC5nhylKct3jotmdH918brfsAo2s3K4LigbNC4CFz4v8v54M5wouWAx/s1600/Brush+&+Comb.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk-YeD1vLe8JTRbBMnONPZrtEdoXkany5GXhyphenhyphenzYNDzuIoKpR2Umhh24ZkHm-LOIrwT1e_Vg4V12qh3HPb6E7hQXQC5nhylKct3jotmdH918brfsAo2s3K4LigbNC4CFz4v8v54M5wouWAx/s1600/Brush+&+Comb.png" height="320" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px;"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; vertical-align: bottom;">
<b>Scunci Girl 2pc Brush and Comb Flower Pack<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;">
RRP AU$7.95<o:p></o:p></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinLMeJxYyMrNuI9wGDzRdHy_Ca4uaZN4xxd-W3GcscZpV1qAA3rIMfEY-PrBdQZ-qJfB9DRB5keymv6pCcpDpvBjupvBgkhD-7jmxVfCFX8j5YBECNGzSBfPpGT7bYNL3Ei1KhNach147v/s1600/Detangling+Comb.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinLMeJxYyMrNuI9wGDzRdHy_Ca4uaZN4xxd-W3GcscZpV1qAA3rIMfEY-PrBdQZ-qJfB9DRB5keymv6pCcpDpvBjupvBgkhD-7jmxVfCFX8j5YBECNGzSBfPpGT7bYNL3Ei1KhNach147v/s1600/Detangling+Comb.png" height="320" width="174" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px;"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; vertical-align: bottom;">
<b>Scunci Printed Detangling Comb<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;">
RRP AU$6.95<o:p></o:p></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq_K9sve0RvTgJBxBJEXaSG7usIzqZGQDcCn1jRkhX7C0vJeY8J5hhr1uIMFuTXw-G31k4I5LF-fbbzMK6VgbAlvTpBsaPUVDJOBYBuR-soUHOpEbqX0UFTvxOItnRgfjbp6UzZwkC_NiI/s1600/Hand+Held+Mirror.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq_K9sve0RvTgJBxBJEXaSG7usIzqZGQDcCn1jRkhX7C0vJeY8J5hhr1uIMFuTXw-G31k4I5LF-fbbzMK6VgbAlvTpBsaPUVDJOBYBuR-soUHOpEbqX0UFTvxOItnRgfjbp6UzZwkC_NiI/s1600/Hand+Held+Mirror.png" height="320" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px;"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; vertical-align: bottom;">
<b>Scunci Printed Hand Held Mirror<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;">
RRP AU$16.95<o:p></o:p></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO9kV7nx2jp4_5CNGtrcrVsIAKMtp4N_t6diUREGZdbfS6ORop2h8I2Jh32z4srOwnMcOyT_x15dmNq5-cTijBWe298kNknj4EDwBrR-uMJmHt-7xwqS1n5h_hyphenhyphenID2DyVRsO1kWszSmhjb/s1600/Enamel+Snaps.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO9kV7nx2jp4_5CNGtrcrVsIAKMtp4N_t6diUREGZdbfS6ORop2h8I2Jh32z4srOwnMcOyT_x15dmNq5-cTijBWe298kNknj4EDwBrR-uMJmHt-7xwqS1n5h_hyphenhyphenID2DyVRsO1kWszSmhjb/s1600/Enamel+Snaps.png" height="320" width="170" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px;"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; vertical-align: bottom;">
<b>Scunci Girl 12pc Enamel Snaps with Glitter Finish<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;">
RRP AU$6.95<o:p></o:p></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivMbz7ZwesnNBmSglolw1-4_AdC0difZjdOXq6NkzFJkPFVGUTVYSyJR7jk_x2UapNwR8Fa_gg0xuSwJfWxhjYkU3IJti2rQOm18WMLw1rt7yWOFuu5fg9lNKbu53209rbeEDAWD1Y2kWS/s1600/Evolution+Elastics.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivMbz7ZwesnNBmSglolw1-4_AdC0difZjdOXq6NkzFJkPFVGUTVYSyJR7jk_x2UapNwR8Fa_gg0xuSwJfWxhjYkU3IJti2rQOm18WMLw1rt7yWOFuu5fg9lNKbu53209rbeEDAWD1Y2kWS/s1600/Evolution+Elastics.png" height="320" width="184" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px;"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; vertical-align: bottom;">
<b>Scunci Girl 12pc Evolution Elastics with Motif<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;">
RRP AU$6.95<o:p></o:p></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBcZuA6LA6oZxKog5coV_dcMT8dGohSvhp1lZj7rMtcEm_t967KQruiHX3A8J1sQkqbiIOCaFWQvy4BJr4b88-5ghyxT1O6naL5AntAwYcjDUib0yWWLZ32WxmcbBfAviUYVDv1IF89UnZ/s1600/Spiral+Ponytailers.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBcZuA6LA6oZxKog5coV_dcMT8dGohSvhp1lZj7rMtcEm_t967KQruiHX3A8J1sQkqbiIOCaFWQvy4BJr4b88-5ghyxT1O6naL5AntAwYcjDUib0yWWLZ32WxmcbBfAviUYVDv1IF89UnZ/s1600/Spiral+Ponytailers.png" height="320" width="184" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px;"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; vertical-align: bottom;">
<b>Scunci Girl 12pc Spiral Ponytailers<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;">
RRP AU$6.95<o:p></o:p></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtG3LcYFZ751qqACa1m0fbbJFA_SaJcZHkJlrJYowpRibpEkye5RAIuGuF73UGoBayaxVM4Mq6vIQUcZ9oB6ADctHdbuZh29rUWwu93AtSx3YmYNgDz6fWUjdWmmMtuMB6qGaTXOiCgg3G/s1600/Towelling+Ponytailers.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtG3LcYFZ751qqACa1m0fbbJFA_SaJcZHkJlrJYowpRibpEkye5RAIuGuF73UGoBayaxVM4Mq6vIQUcZ9oB6ADctHdbuZh29rUWwu93AtSx3YmYNgDz6fWUjdWmmMtuMB6qGaTXOiCgg3G/s1600/Towelling+Ponytailers.png" height="320" width="173" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px;"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; vertical-align: bottom;">
<b>Scunci Girl 24pc Mini Toweling Pony's<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;">
RRP AU$5.95</div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifwaeYSIRKhgU2w4zbfpyT_pWNGasezo7hjTMxBMIfpTmV5D_8BGjhfXUJzpzdAP1RBCTVbI7yXSeX9zoMbt0AMg31RYWf1QMkrAY12sykt19B9_2XyGlzXJl_kKazNlwtvHxqyiTXFzt7/s1600/Knotted+Hair+Wraps.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifwaeYSIRKhgU2w4zbfpyT_pWNGasezo7hjTMxBMIfpTmV5D_8BGjhfXUJzpzdAP1RBCTVbI7yXSeX9zoMbt0AMg31RYWf1QMkrAY12sykt19B9_2XyGlzXJl_kKazNlwtvHxqyiTXFzt7/s1600/Knotted+Hair+Wraps.png" height="320" width="192" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px;"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; vertical-align: bottom;">
<b>Scunci Girl 4pc Knotted Hair Wraps<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;">
RRP AU$5.95<o:p></o:p></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>To be in the running, just leave a comment below with your best hair story and your email address. </b><br />
<br />
And let's face it, the funnier the better. However, I'll also accept stories of hair brushing trauma - so I know I won't be the only one rolling up to Hairbrushers Anonymous meetings.<br />
<br />
For more information on Scunci products, you can visit <a href="http://www.scunci.com.au/">www.scunci.com.au</a><br />
<br />
<b>Entries close 6pm CST on Sunday 26 January 2014. Winners will be drawn via random.org and notified via email.</b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Good luck!!<br />
<br />
<br />
<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85865/cricketkp/5fe03b9cadd0658f2277344f8db1258f.png" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; background-color: white; border: 1px solid transparent; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; color: #666666; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; padding: 5px;" /><br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08881726731449136425noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519880166634334103.post-19339160440323308262013-12-17T09:04:00.002+09:302013-12-17T09:04:28.000+09:30Keeping the magic alive...Christmas for me has always been about massive family gatherings where if you didn't have the vocal power to talk over the top of everyone else, you obviously had married someone in the room or you were lost.<br />
<br />
It's about tip toeing through my Nanna's sewing room, praying you didn't impale you foot on one of the thousands of pins embedded in the carpet, a glistening, silvery, deadly sharp testament to the years of sewing, dress fittings, wedding gowns and alterations that had been done in the room since before we were born. If you managed to make it across the ocean of booby traps to the base of the Christmas tree, the reward was usually a pin in the arse as you relished in your success and forgot to check for pins in your chosen seating area.<br />
<br />
The smell of freshly cut grass, the heat of summer, sitting in a loquat tree eating the fruit, moving on to the plum trees and eating the fruit, having fruit related diarrhoea for a moment, everyone buzzing with excitement about seeing one another and trifle.<br />
<br />
Since having our own family, we have created a Christmas Eve tradition of opening presents containing new pyjamas and cuddling together on the couch to watch a movie. My choice is always National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation.<br />
<br />
I love Christmas. I love watching people open their gifts and seeing the expression on their face as they get something they didn't expect. I love making people happy.<br />
<br />
This proves to be expensive every year, much to The Man's dismay. I lost my phone for 4 days recently, and I think his biggest shock was that it didn't slow my online shopping for a single moment.<br />
<br />
I'm pretty awesome like that.<br />
<br />
But I don't seem to have any self control. It's all about the giving, people. GIVE ALL THE THINGS!! And it's about showing people that I have listened throughout the year and got them something they said they liked in January and most likely did nothing about because it wasn't that awesome, but the point is, I LISTENED AND NOW YOU HAVE IT!!<br />
<br />
I also go off on my own tangent and buy things just because. Which is almost all the time.<br />
<br />
So when The Man came home from an interstate work trip, our conversation went something like this...<br />
<br />
HIM: I'm so glad to be home...<br />
<br />
ME: I'm glad your home too - you have to see the last few little things I got for Christmas!<br />
<br />
HIM: Were these the purchases you warned me about on Friday when you called me?<br />
<br />
ME: Yep, but don't worry about the cost, just think how happy people will be when they see all these lovely things!<br />
<br />
HIM: Okay, show me...hang on - how is this mountain of bags 'a few small things'!?<br />
<br />
ME: Because they're smaller than a car? Oh, there are also 3 boxes in the store room, too.<br />
<br />
HIM: .....!<br />
<br />
ME: How about I get you a drink?<br />
<br />
I took it upon myself not to mention the varied items hidden throughout our wardrobe, random places in the house and the stuff I have hidden at my parents house. But, on the off chance he reads this...<br />
<br />
<i>Sweet, don't get upset. Take a deep breath and remember that murder won't return all the stuff. And neither will I. Love you!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Anyway, from there he proceeded to mock (and when I say mock, I mean he stood there with a smirk on his face, shaking his head before saying 'you're so funny when you get excited over imaginary people visiting the house') my efforts at making Christmas a bit magical and special for the girls. Well, mostly for Miss 4, Miss 1 is still a bit vague on the details.<br />
<br />
Miss 4 seems to have this set idea of what Father Christmas (FC) should look like, and a crucial part of his appearance is his glasses. So crucial, in fact, that she was moments away from branding the local photo FC as a fake when I had to hurriedly explain that he was wearing his contacts because the reindeer stepped on his glasses and he needs to get them fixed.<br />
<br />
So when I was out shopping last week I came across some dress up FC glasses, and I bought them so I can put them out on Christmas Eve and when Miss 4 comes out in the morning, there will be a letter from FC saying he got his glasses fixed and he wanted her to have a pair just like his. Or something like that, I haven't got the details set.<br />
<br />
Yes, I put my hand up and confess I am one of those parents who creates a template to put baby powder bunny prints on the floor at Easter. Yes, I put TimTams and milk out for Father Christmas. I put carrots and water out for the reindeer.<br />
<br />
I know none of it's real. Yes, I know in the grand scheme of things, she will eventually discover it's all a ruse. But in the meantime, I'm going to do whatever I can to keep the magic alive...because Miss 4 has a big mouth and the moment she discovers FC is fake, she'll tell her sister and anyone who will listen, within a 100km radius of our town.<br />
<br />
And then the magic will be dead for everyone. EVERYONE!<br />
<br />
But I suppose that means The Man and Miss 4 will then be fighting over the Bah Humbug hat.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.theworks.co.uk/images/5052089128903_Z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.theworks.co.uk/images/5052089128903_Z.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image found <a href="http://www.theworks.co.uk/images/5052089128903_Z.jpg" target="_blank">here</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
With any luck, I'll pass on my love of Christmas to Miss 1 and the magic will continue.<br />
<br />
Even after she finds out the truth.<br />
<br />
<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85865/cricketkp/5fe03b9cadd0658f2277344f8db1258f.png" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; background-color: white; border: 1px solid transparent; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; color: #666666; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; padding: 5px;" /><br />
<br />
<b>Do you have any family traditions or memories that make Christmas magic for you?</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08881726731449136425noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519880166634334103.post-55469098544566551512013-12-16T16:21:00.001+09:302013-12-16T16:21:41.551+09:30Pudding!<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>*</b>This is a sponsored post for Itha's Puddings. I was provided a traditional pudding and a jar of brandy butterscotch sauce to sample and review<b>.*</b></span></div>
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Ah, Christmas pudding. Bring to mind black and white movies where the perfect family of 4 sit down to a turkey, and finish the evening with a pudding, perfectly coated in custard and a sprig of holly.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSeuyOiZcUpxRNiYKfT5LcXoGVsuNWR4GLExAGBasOujagLGQiTzw" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSeuyOiZcUpxRNiYKfT5LcXoGVsuNWR4GLExAGBasOujagLGQiTzw" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image found via Google</td></tr>
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For my family, if we bothered to have one, it was always a flaming pudding.<br />
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Growing up, I thought the Christmas Pudding was simply something we set on fire at the end of the meal for the hell of it. Somehow, setting fire to food didn't worry me - I was more concerned that my cousins had scoffed the trifle while I was watching the adults incinerate dessert.<br />
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I never stuck around to eat it because I didn't fancy a bowl of ashes. It's fair to say I never waited long enough to get the full picture.<br />
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When I was approached to review a traditional christmas pudding, I did have visions of burning our home to the ground. I've never been very successful at anything requiring an open flame, unless you were specifically wanting ashes and gravy for dinner. In which case, I am a goddess!<br />
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Thankfully, Itha's Pudding arrived and it stated that flaming the pudding was optional. I could feel the house breathe a sigh of relief at the news.<br />
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Having never actually eaten a pudding before, I decided the entire family should take part on the review, to make sure I got a fair, well rounded opinion. The Man loves fruit and peel in things. I don't. I buy fruitless hot cross buns because fruit and peel in anything is enough to make me gag.<br />
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This review is more from him than me.<br />
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Itha's puddings are all handmade with fresh ingredients and a recipe dating back to 1912. The traditional pudding features a mix of vine fruits, mixed peel, matured brandy, nutmeg and cinnamon and smells lovely. It came wrapped in a cloth, and vacuum sealed - modern on the inside, traditional on the outside!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.ithaspuddings.com.au/images/products/traditional-plum-pudding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.ithaspuddings.com.au/images/products/traditional-plum-pudding.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image found <a href="http://www.ithaspuddings.com.au/images/products/traditional-plum-pudding.jpg" target="_blank">here</a></td></tr>
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It's worth noting that Itha also has a range of modern puddings available, such as Macadamia and Apricot or triple-choc-twist. Itha had me at triple choc.<br />
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The Man stated that the fruit to peel balance was spot on, but the brandy was very strong, so if you're not a fan of liquor then the traditional pud is probably not for you. The brandy butterscotch sauce was a winner for me, but the brandy flavour was a little strong for my taste.<br />
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However Itha does have sauce for those of us who like our ingredients a little less boozy, such as vanilla bean custard, mocha, creamy caramel and very, very chocolate. For a full list of available products visit <a href="http://www.ithaspuddings.com.au/">www.ithaspuddings.com.au</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.choice.com.au/reviews-and-tests/food-and-health/food-and-drink/groceries/christmas-pudding-reviews.aspx" target="_blank">www.choice.com.au</a> listed Itha's puddings as number one out of the four finalist puddings in their higher end category for 2013.<br />
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Overall, The Man gave the pudding a 4 out of 5 and the sauce received as 4.5 out of 5. Worthy praise indeed since this is a man who is so fussy about his liquorice, it needs to be sourced from one specific confectionery boutique in South Australia!<br />
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So, if you're looking to impress the family with a flaming centrepiece, or just a pudding that will take your grandparents back to their youth, Itha's Puddings is certainly worth a look.<br />
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<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85865/cricketkp/5fe03b9cadd0658f2277344f8db1258f.png" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; background-color: white; border: 1px solid transparent; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; color: #666666; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; padding: 5px;" /> (and The Man)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08881726731449136425noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519880166634334103.post-76801165840797897232013-12-07T13:09:00.000+09:302013-12-07T13:09:46.066+09:30Cupcakes in the Oven...<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>**</b>This is a sponsored post for <a href="http://www.wholeberryfolk.com.au/" target="_blank">Wholeberry Folk</a>. I was provided with a sample of their Banana Split cupcake packet mix<b>**</b></span><br />
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I've never been one for talent in the kitchen. The Man has forbidden me from ever attempting lasagne again, since every attempt has been regarded as a potential mass poisoning.<br />
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It's not my fault. I blame the oven. In every house we have ever lived in.<br />
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However, since becoming a full time SAHM, I have found myself in the kitchen more often. Through choice. But I have to confess that a majority of the goods coming from the kitchen are of the baked goodie variety.<br />
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Yes, I do make proper meals - but to be honest sometimes I wish I could serve chocolate cake for dinner, because that is a crap load more satisfying to make.<br />
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Recently I was approached to try a new brand of packet mix cupcake. Packet mixes are fantastic for when Miss 4 is desperate to help me make something, but I'm short on time and 20 minutes to measure out 1 cup of flour just isn't going to happen.<br />
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The <a href="http://www.wholeberryfolk.com.au/" target="_blank">Wholeberry Folk</a> is proudly Australian made and owned, are preservative and additive free, and use spelt flour. Can you say 'terrifying mother's groups, judge no more my baked goodies!!'<br />
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These products are nut free, but do contain gluten (spelt, which is easier to digest and more soluble than traditional wheat gluten) and are made on a production line that produces products that contain milk products, gluten and soy.<br />
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I am always in a panic when I have to send food to preschool to share. I'm paranoid about children with allergies or intolerances and I don't want to be responsible for someone going home with explosive diarrhoea (or, god forbid, being hospitalised from an allergic reaction).<br />
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The butter in the recipe can be substituted for coconut oil, and milk for a dairy alternative so it's appropriate for vegans, too! My cousin would be thrilled - this is as close to vegan as I will probably ever be.<br />
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Miss 4 was ecstatic to be trying out the <a href="http://www.wholeberryfolk.com.au/wholeberry-products/banana-split-cupcakes/" target="_blank">Wholeberry Folk Banana Split cupcakes</a>, and they were straight forward to make. I loved it because it meant she could be fairly independent in putting the mix together, and she LOVES independence these days.<br />
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They were delicious...well, I'm assuming they were - I sure as hell didn't get any!!<br />
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If you want to be able to make yummy food that you won't gt a chance to eat, you can find the Wholeberry Folk range at Woolworths, retailing for $6.49.<br />
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Happy baking!!<br />
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<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85865/cricketkp/5fe03b9cadd0658f2277344f8db1258f.png" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; background-color: white; border: 1px solid transparent; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; color: #666666; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; padding: 5px;" /><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08881726731449136425noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519880166634334103.post-28115372795481639652013-11-19T15:28:00.000+09:302013-11-19T15:49:02.393+09:30It's not all black and white...<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.panda.org.au/images/stories/showcase/showcase-banner-pnd-week-2013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="148" src="http://www.panda.org.au/images/stories/showcase/showcase-banner-pnd-week-2013.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image Source: <a href="http://www.panda.org.au/panda-events/postnatal-depression-week" target="_blank">PANDA</a></td></tr>
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This week is Postnatal Depression (PND) Awareness week.<br />
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This year, I'm blogging from the other side of the coin. The survivors side.<br />
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And I don't mean survivor in the sense that I was schlepped to an island with a bunch of strangers and had to survive on a mixture of rat meat and rain water, but I mean I have been to the darkest depths imaginable and I've come back.<br />
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I'm not saying it wasn't hard, I'm not saying that I don't still have dodgy days where I think everything about me is shite and I'm not saying that what I went through is typical.<br />
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Because it's not.<br />
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Every parent, every emotion, every thought is as individual as the person having it. There is nothing typical about PND, and perhaps that's why so many of us remain in denial. 'Oh, it's not exactly the same as what Betty went through, so I've not got PND. I'm just having a bad day - I'll be fine!'<br />
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The trouble is, when those bad days start to add up and you can't remember the last good day you had. When you feel panicky at the thought of leaving the house, or someone coming over to see you and the baby. When the smallest thing can make you burst into tears or feel so angry you want to scream.<br />
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It all adds up. It all takes over. You feel like there's no way to get out.<br />
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Well, I'm here to say there is absolutely a way out. I'm living proof. Undeniable.<br />
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It feels amazing when it all finally comes out. That initial release is like someone lifting a suitcase of cheap souvenirs off your shoulders. A bag full of crappy pewter trinkets to remind yourself of every single time you think you failed. Every single thing you think you did wrong. Every scenario you've ever imagined where you think you're the unmistakable downfall.<br />
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You decide that your friends and family are better off without you. That you are just dragging them down with you. They should escape while they still can.<br />
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None of it's true, but the negative is always harder to accept than the positive. I don't know why some of us find it so difficult to accept that we are nice people and we deserve to be as happy and fulfilled as the next person. No ifs', ands' or buts'.<br />
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My husband is proof that people you love are your best anchors and will always back you up. My children are proof that PND doesn't change anything about how you love and bond. My Mum is proof that every girl needs someone to say it out loud - to say what you're afraid to. My friends are proof that the people who know you can see beyond it all and won't give up on you.<br />
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The main point is you are not alone. Ever. There are so many brave voices out there, sharing their stories and proving that no one is immune, PND does not discriminate. It doesn't care which half of the parenting unit you are, or if you are the whole unit on your own. Mum or Dad, it can hit you like a tonne of bricks.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #103f5a; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px; text-align: justify;">"</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #103f5a; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px; text-align: justify;">Perinatal depression is not a women's issue. It affects whole families and without treatment it can change the lives of families forever. However, help is available and early intervention and the right support leads to a faster recovery.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #103f5a; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px; text-align: justify;">" ~ PANDA CEO, Belinda Horton. <span style="font-size: x-small;">Quote taken from <a href="http://www.panda.org.au/" target="_blank">www.panda.org.au </a></span></span><br />
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No one should be ashamed, or afraid to get help. Some of the many resources available are:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.howisdadgoing.org.au/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" target="_blank"><img alt="How is Dad going? logo" src="http://www.panda.org.au/images/stories/showcase/HIDG_rgbsmall.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Click the image for more information. Image Source: <a href="http://www.panda.org.au/panda-events/postnatal-depression-week" target="_blank">PANDA</a> </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.panda.org.au/practical-information/frequently-asked-questions/382-signs-and-symptoms-of-postnatal-depression" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" target="_blank"><img alt="PANDA-BEPNDAWARE-BADGE" src="http://www.panda.org.au/images/stories/showcase/PANDA-BEPNDAWARE-BADGE.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Click the image for more information. Image Source: <a href="http://www.panda.org.au/panda-events/postnatal-depression-week" target="_blank">PANDA</a> </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.beyondblue.org.au/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" target="_blank"><img alt="beyondblue. Depresion, Anxiety - logo" src="http://www.beyondblue.org.au/app_themes/standard/images/logo.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Click the image for more information. Image source: <a href="http://www.beyondblue.org.au/" target="_blank">beyondblue</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>There is a collective link-up being hosted by <a href="http://fivedegreesofchaos.com/2013/11/17/postnatal-depression-sharing-stories/" target="_blank">Emma at Five Degrees of Chaos</a></b> where people can share, and read stories of other's, experiences with PND. You can <a href="http://fivedegreesofchaos.com/2013/11/17/postnatal-depression-sharing-stories/" target="_blank">visit Emma's blog directly</a> or click <a href="http://new.inlinkz.com/luwpview.php?id=340862" target="_blank">this link</a>.<br />
<br />
<b>Wednesday 20 November 2013 on <a href="http://www.instagram.com/" target="_blank">Instagram</a> </b>is the day for letting your pictures do the talking. Be sure to use the hashtag <b>#bePNDaware.</b>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHWdkdt7A2NdtSKve0yiJXzT3hwOJ70po0yJsDGXuCtt2fMz_wKhAtAo8ax-wVbJb0kuKyxL8iK1GCUvEr6zzSV6pZxnH4M0wusy9DIT199l3cRZj8k8z8cDgCES2ENzU4Nyie-0ungcwo/s1600/PANDA_instagram_edit_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHWdkdt7A2NdtSKve0yiJXzT3hwOJ70po0yJsDGXuCtt2fMz_wKhAtAo8ax-wVbJb0kuKyxL8iK1GCUvEr6zzSV6pZxnH4M0wusy9DIT199l3cRZj8k8z8cDgCES2ENzU4Nyie-0ungcwo/s320/PANDA_instagram_edit_2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Lastly, <b>if you think you might be experiencing depression or anxiety, or if you are concerned for a friend or family member</b>, contact PANDA <a href="http://www.panda.org.au/">online</a> or phone their helpline on 1300 726 306. A complete list of contact information can be found <a href="http://www.panda.org.au/contact-us">here</a>.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08881726731449136425noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519880166634334103.post-67087017397486479582013-11-14T08:00:00.000+09:302013-11-14T08:00:01.493+09:30My first ever foodie post - Red Velvet CupcakesUsually I'm not one for sharing recipes. Anyone will tell you that I'm not known for producing food.<br />
<br />
Known for destroying the stomach lining of my family? Yes. Known for having to throw away cookware that was fine before I got to it? Damn right.<br />
<br />
As a result, The Man has requested that I NEVER make lasagne again.<br />
<br />
But I've been doing a bit more in the realm of baking since I became a 'lady of not-really-leisure-but-that's-what-people-think-when-I-say-I'm-a-SAHM'. It's had it's good days and it's bad.<br />
<br />
Today, I did a trial run of the cupcakes I'll be making for Hermione's birthday party in a couple of weeks. In the past, I wouldn't bother. I have an almost 5 year old, and those 4 birthday parties have given me plenty of experience to be confident in making a batter and then baking! Well, that's what you'd think anyway.<br />
<br />
Tragically, it's my baking experience that has taught me I should always make a trial of anything, not to mention that someone else should be asked to proof read the recipe and then <u>double check</u> <u>all the labels on all the things</u> I plan on mixing together.<br />
<br />
I blogged <a href="http://anythingeverythinginbetween.blogspot.com.au/2011/01/friday-fluff-cake-candles-and-overall.html" target="_blank">my near miss with mass poisoning</a>. I'll give you a minute to refresh.<br />
<br />
See. I can't be trusted.<br />
<br />
However, today, I managed to overcome my massive failings and actually produce something perfectly edible. Which is typical - now we have a dog that will eat anything, I become Nigella-fucking-Lawson.<br />
<br />
And so, without further ado, I present you with a recipe and pictures!<br />
<br />
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<b>RED VELVET CUPCAKES WITH CREAM CHEESE FROSTING</b></div>
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<i>CUPCAKE INGREDIENTS</i><br />
* 2 cups plain flour<br />
* 1/4 cup cocoa powder<br />
* 1tsp bi carb soda (and this isn't a typo, it's 100% bi carb soda, not baking powder)<br />
* 1 cup buttermilk<br />
* 200g unsalted butter, melted<br />
* 2 eggs<br />
* 1tbs white vinegar<br />
* 1tbs vanilla extract<br />
* 1-2 tsp red food colouring (I use gel rather than a liquid as a little goes a long way and you get a richer colour. You might need more or less depending on what shade of red you're looking for)<br />
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<i>CREAM CHEESE FROSTING INGREDIENTS</i><br />
* 2x250g packets of cream cheese, room temperature<br />
* 2 cups icing sugar<br />
* 120g unsalted butter, room temperature<br />
* 1tsp vanilla extract<br />
<br />
<i>CUPCAKE METHOD</i><br />
* Preheat oven to 180 degrees Celsius.<br />
* Sift flour, cocoa, caster sugar and bi-carb soda.<br />
* Whisk buttermilk, melted butter, eggs, vinegar and vanilla until combined.<br />
* Combine wet and dry ingredients together until just combined and add the food colouring, until you achieve the colour you desire.<br />
* Pour mixture evenly between cupcake cases and bake for 25 minutes or until a skewer inserted in the middle comes out clean.<br />
* Allow cupcakes to cool completely before frosting.<br />
<br />
<i>CREAM CHEESE FROSTING METHOD</i><br />
* Combine cream cheese, butter and vanilla until smooth.<br />
* Sift in icing sugar and combine.<br />
* Use a piping bag to frost your cupcakes, or simply apply with a knife. Decorate as desired.<br />
<br />
Because Hermione is having a Parisian Cafe themed birthday party, I decided to use edible glitter lightly dusted over the frosting with some edible pink pearls.<br />
<br />
They turned out quite nice, even if I do say so myself!<br />
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<br />
So there you have it - a baking success with no casualties. The cupcakes are lovely and moist and the cream cheese adds just the right amount of savoury to cut through the sweet of the chocolate cupcake.<br />
<br />
When I make these next time I'm going to be more liberal with the frosting. I was restrained this time as I didn't want to drown the cake.<br />
Apparently I've never met me. The words 'too', 'much' and 'icing' have never even passed through my brain before, so I have no idea what the hell was going on in my kitchen today.<br />
<br />
If you try these, please let me know how you get on and if you have any hints or tips for working with cupcakes please feel free to share.<br />
<br />
The girls gave them 5/5 finger licks.<br />
<br />
It's a miracle!!!!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" style="background-color: white; color: #1b8ea3; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85865/cricketkp/5fe03b9cadd0658f2277344f8db1258f.png" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; background-attachment: scroll; background-color: transparent; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat repeat; border: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px; position: relative;" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08881726731449136425noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519880166634334103.post-42993209861569426552013-11-13T09:40:00.000+09:302013-11-13T09:40:47.232+09:30Happy Birthday...Today, you've been in the world for an entire year.<br />
<br />
How is that even possible? It hasn't been a year. It's only been the blink of an eye.<br />
<br />
The calendar would disagree. As do you in all your walking, babbling, toothy glory.<br />
<br />
I want to freeze time so you'll stay my little baby - there's a part of me that's not ready to let go of all the baby things, and another part of me that knows watching you grow up with your sister will be hilarious, worrying and, at times, exasperating.<br />
<br />
Worth every second.<br />
<br />
Happy first birthday, my little Hermione Quinn.<br />
<br />
Never be anyone other than you.<br />
<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08881726731449136425noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519880166634334103.post-13910004538717562282013-07-23T00:08:00.000+09:302013-07-23T00:08:25.606+09:30The Acidic Observer, Volume VIIII<div class="tr_bq">
First of all, let's get this out the way - the Duchess of Cambridge is in LABOUR! Hallelujah!<br />
<br />
This is how I think it's going...<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Oh, bother it all, those contractions are just ghastly, Will dahling..." </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Can I ask my manservant to ask the servant to get you some Finnish purified ice, Katie, my dove?" </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"That would be spiffy - could you put in the order for my epidural, these pains are positively <i>BEASTLY</i>!?" </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Certainly, Harrington will fetch the doctor immediately, but it may be a few moments wait while we get the best anaesthetist in the world here..." </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Stone the crows, motherfucker, get me my epidural now and shut the fuck up! Don't touch me! Rub my back! Get me ice chips! Stop touching me! Did I say stop rubbing my back!? Where's that fucking doctor!? Stop talking! It huuuuuuuuuuuurts!!!!!" </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"...????..."</blockquote>
<br />
Now Kochie can stop crossing to a live feed of Mel standing in front of a building trying to grasp for things to say and not look like Charlie at the window of the sweet shop, totally separated from the chummy, joy of those smug bastards on the inside.<br />
<br />
Sucks to be the one who jumped ship first, doesn't it Mel?<br />
<br />
Anyway, sorry for the impromptu hiatus of a couple of weeks. If you follow me on Twitter or Instagram, you'll notice we got a new member of the family.<br />
<br />
He's a Great Dane, Irish Wolf Hound cross. His name is Loki - after the Norse God of Mischief.<br />
<br />
Some people would say we're tempting fate with a name like that.<br />
<br />
It's like having a new baby but a shit load worse because I can't make him wear a nappy and he chews everything, including my TOES. It's apparently completely normal - but given that I'm not a dog person, I haven't a fucking clue.<br />
<br />
The only positive I can think of is that he doesn't eat his own shit.<br />
<br />
Loki is The Man's longed for family pet. The Man has put up with my love of cats, tolerated their tendency to shit outside the litter box when we lived in an apartment, their love of shredding the couch and the armchair in the baby's room and their long memories and the resulting revenge.<br />
<br />
So I felt it was only fair for him to finally have a companion of the dog kind.<br />
<br />
And he's bloody lucky he's a cute dog, otherwise I'd have an attractive dog skin rug in the lounge.<br />
<br />
Speaking of cute, The Man led me to my burn this week by making a passing comment that, according to <a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2359397/Now-Katie-Hopkins-hits-ginger-babies-harder-love.html" target="_blank">some woman in the UK, babies have to be more than cute, they also can't be a red-head, to be loved</a>.<br />
<br />
Sometimes I think there are people in the world who should be bitch slapped. </div>
<br />
Repeatedly.<br />
<br />
Her name is Katie Hopkins and she is a UK reality star. Not that this fact gives me any fucking clue who she is - but if my reality were the same as her's, I'd swallow a cyanide pill and end it all.<br />
<br />
Katie is just one of many people who should not be allowed to speak. To anyone. Ever.<br />
<br />
She chose to share this gem on Twitter:<span style="font-family: inherit;"> "Ginger babies. Like a baby. Just so much harder to love."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Hang on...</span><i style="font-family: inherit;">like</i><span style="font-family: inherit;"> a baby? How does red hair make a baby anything but a baby? Unless they're an </span>orang-utan<span style="font-family: inherit;"> - but they are still called BABIES!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>Katie, clarify this for me - you're saying that I should stop loving The Jellybean because she has a tinge of the ginge? That somehow she is a sub-standard child because she is lucky enough to inherit the Irish red from my side of the family?<br />
<br />
To assume that any child is difficult to love is a shameful thing to say. To assume that a child is difficult to love because they have a hair colour you're not fond of? You're an ignorant, despicable human being.<br />
<br />
If I were you, Katie, red hair is the last thing I'd worry about. My biggest concern would be that my dumb-arsery was hereditary and, therefore, my kids would be doomed.<br />
<br />
And just in case she didn't waste enough oxygen sprouting that load of crap, Katie continues on in her 'wisdom' that you can clearly identify what 'class' a child comes from, based on their name - and anyone with a 'lower-class' name is not welcome to play with her children.<br />
<br />
Well, I don't think she needs to be concerned about the 'calibre' of anyone wanting to play with her children - no mother in the world would let their children be exposed to the offspring of a total fuckwit.<br />
<br />
Obviously, Katie hasn't opened a newspaper, gone online, or stepped outside her bubble and realised that a child's name has NO bearing on their background. In case everyone has forgotten, Kim Kardashian named her daughter North West. One famous actor and his wife named their daughter Reignbeau. They have completely butchered the spelling of a natural phenomena. A NAME DOESN'T GET ANY MORE BOGAN THAN THAT! And this kid comes from a background that Katie would sell her cheap, reality TV soul to be associated with.<br />
<br />
I find it ironic that the people who have the exposure, have the least to say to improve the world. Or just their own IQ.<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Whenever I watch TV and see those poor starving kids all over the world, I can't help but cry. I mean I'd love to be skinny like that but not with all those flies and death and stuff. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i style="background-color: white; text-align: -webkit-center;">- Mariah Carey.</i></span></blockquote>
<blockquote>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I've never really wanted to go to Japan. Simply because I don’t like eating fish. And I know that's very popular out there in Africa. </span><i style="background-color: white; text-align: -webkit-center;">-</i><i style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; text-align: -webkit-center;"> Britney Spears</i><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></blockquote>
I'm not sure if it's funny or bloody frightening that, even with MENSA candidates like Mariah and Britney in the world, Katie<i> </i>is as close to being insightful as I am being announced as the new Queen of Atlantis.<br />
<br />
Which is a shame because I've always thought I'd look good with a crown.<br />
<br />
<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08881726731449136425noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519880166634334103.post-16444698999405440902013-07-02T12:18:00.000+09:302013-07-02T19:52:14.817+09:30The Acidic Observer - The Territory Day EditionIt's been pointed out to me on several occasions that I appear to love bagging the shit out of the NT.<br />
<br />
It's true - I do. But to be honest, it's not like I'm creating things out of thin air. All the things that boggle my mind are there through sanction of Government or the pure stupidity of some of the people that live here.<br />
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Between the irritating lack of competition in various areas which means we pay a premium for things like housing, to the outrageous cost of living because every provider loves to use the excuse of 'shipping' so they can add an extra 25%.<br />
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Last time I checked, the NT was still a part of Australia - we are not floating in the middle of the ocean, we are not only accessible by one man canoe and we have roads for trucks so you don't need to load up mountain goats and pack mules.<br />
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The greed of the minority shits me to tears and those that have the monopoly will never let it go.<br />
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Assholes.<br />
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I know there are dickheads everywhere, the NT isn't special in that regard - but I think because Darwin has such a small population compared to other capital cities, it's more obvious. And because the NT has always had a culture of 'come here and do what you like', it attracts all the tourists that should really be in jail.<br />
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The NT also has a knack for harbouring criminals. But it's that talent that means my Dad will never be unemployed.<br />
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To clarify - 99% of the people that live in the NT are lovely, respectful, normal people. It's the 1% that seem to take it too far and just make things harder. And the dickheads stand out like a sore thumb.<br />
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Yesterday was July 1st - and here in the NT that's Territory Day. Historically, this is the day in 1978 when the NT commenced self government. But I question exactly how many people actually know that, or understand why they live in a place where fireworks and ridiculous speed limits are the norm.<br />
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Territory Day has become an excuse for people to spend a shit load of cash on fireworks and go home to inadvertently amputate their own extremities, give themselves massive burns, or do the same for a friend.<br />
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Only a true friend would get blind drunk and light a firework in your butt crack. <a href="http://www.ntnews.com.au/article/2012/07/31/312406_ntnews.html" target="_blank">It's a documented fact.</a><br />
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I don't have any objection to the fireworks themselves - but I object to fuckwits being able to buy them. I also object to the dickheads who continue to set the fireworks off before and after the event. At 3am. On a Wednesday.<br />
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There is a lot of talk about whether 'cracker night' should be banned, and there's a part of me that screams 'YEEEEEEEEEES!!' and a part of me that sits back and says 'meh, whatever'.<br />
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When I first moved here, and the horrifying realisation that I had been relocated to a capital city with no major department stores wore off, cracker night was a massively redeeming feature for the NT. It was a consolation prize of sorts - you can't go shopping here, but you can have your own fireworks spectacular once a year.<br />
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Fabulous!<br />
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But I didn't count on all the yahoo's in the world descending on Darwin in a coordinated effort to blow the fucking city to the moon.<br />
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I also didn't count on their trials beginning a week before the event, and further trials continuing on until Christmas. Because that's awesome.<br />
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Not.<br />
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I don't care how free spirited or 'true blue Territorian' you are - being wrenched from your sleep by random explosions in the middle of the night isn't cool. Especially if you own pets.<br />
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One of our cats is already so high strung that a leaf blowing in the wind 500km's away will startle him. A firework explosion requires valium. Repeated firework explosions - well, not even valium can make that okay - I just have to accept that I will be wearing a cat-turban for the foreseeable future, secured by claws embedded in my eyelids and scalp.<br />
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Am I some out of town harpy, whining on about a tradition that is integral to the NT identity? Probably.<br />
<br />
Am I the only one whining on about the dickhead factor? Hell No! In fact, one person has suggested that <a href="http://travel.ninemsn.com.au/domesticinsiders/darwin/695880/darwin-where-not-to-go" target="_blank">going outside on 1 July is just plain stupid</a>.<br />
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This year, however, I think the <a href="http://www.ntnews.com.au/article/2013/07/02/322375_ntnews.html" target="_blank">NT News said it best</a>...<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">"<span style="line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">NOTHING says self government like allowing the public to set off Chinese-made fireworks in confined spaces</span><strong style="line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">. </strong></span><span style="background-color: white;">Those proud patriots were at it again, lighters in one hand, a beer in the other, celebrating Territory Day last night with the danger that freedom allows."</span></span></blockquote>
<span style="background-color: white;">Danger. Freedom. We can't have one without the other. I just hope the consequences are worth it.</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08881726731449136425noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519880166634334103.post-75252004857988061422013-06-28T10:33:00.001+09:302013-06-28T10:33:08.596+09:30It's Red Nose Day!Most of the time a red nose indicates doom in our household.<br />
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DOOM I tell you!<br />
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It could be the first sign of Man-Flu or, even more terrifying, Toddler-Flu. Able to strike fear into the heart of mother's everywhere!<br />
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And, on a separate note, red noses usually mean that a clown is in the room. And this is very bad because I have a fear of clowns. An all consuming, soul destroying fear.<br />
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FEAR!<br />
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But once a year, a red nose is something I love to see.<br />
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On a bear at least...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGmj4nc2xsJz-qZbUtGFGbtaX0XS9O19zsVXp2eWybyg5WuIyFr6HjqXAUD2tpautJI-GG5iweskrla3sXHjdG_R9R84X7B2V-QyY_hhg1VQ42qFkjdklgflIxgbpQxbf0L4___SAGreih/s1600/20130628_084114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGmj4nc2xsJz-qZbUtGFGbtaX0XS9O19zsVXp2eWybyg5WuIyFr6HjqXAUD2tpautJI-GG5iweskrla3sXHjdG_R9R84X7B2V-QyY_hhg1VQ42qFkjdklgflIxgbpQxbf0L4___SAGreih/s400/20130628_084114.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
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Every year I buy a little fairy bear, I have done since before Elena was born - <a href="http://www.sidsandkids.org/" target="_blank">SIDS and Kids</a> has always been one charity that I've been happy to donate to. I know in my heart why it's always been important, and that's where it will stay. It's not my story to tell.<br />
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This year I was lucky enough to be sent some <a href="http://www.aussiewipes.com.au/" target="_blank">Red Nose Baby Wipes</a><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">*</span></b> that raise funds for Red Nose Day. Hermione has proven to be quite sensitive to some additives in baby wipes - and I had found only one brand that didn't make her break out in a rash and blow up like a balloon.<br />
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Until now!<br />
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<a href="http://www.aussiewipes.com.au/" target="_blank">Red Nose Baby Wipes</a> are the only Aussie made and owned baby wipes on the market, and 5% of all sales go to <a href="http://www.sidsandkids.org/" target="_blank">SIDS and Kids</a>. And they are one of 2 brands that I can use on Hermione.<br />
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The wipes are a fantastic size, and the texture is wonderful. Soft and soothing, wet enough to get the job done but your baby is left feeling dry and clean.<br />
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Winning!<br />
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While our little family is extremely blessed and has never had to access the services of SIDS and Kids, I can't imagine how hard it would be for those families, who have experienced the loss of a child, if SIDS and Kids weren't here to offer the support they do.<br />
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<span style="line-height: 17.59375px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>"SIDS and Kids is dedicated to saving the lives of babies and children during pregnancy, birth, infancy and childhood and supporting bereaved families. We deliver on our vision through world class research; evidence based education and bereavement support; and advocacy."</i></span></span><br />
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If you give to only one charity a year, make SIDS and Kids your choice.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85865/cricketkp/5fe03b9cadd0658f2277344f8db1258f.png" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; background-color: white; border: 0px solid currentcolor; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; color: #666666; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; padding: 5px;" /><br />
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For more information on Red Nose Day and SIDS and Kids visit <a href="http://www.sidsandkids.org/">www.sidsandkids.org</a><br />
For more information on the Red Nose Baby Wipes visit <a href="http://www.aussiewipes.com.au/">www.aussiewipes.com.au</a><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>*</b>Disclaimer: I was provided one pack of large Red Nose Baby Wipes to trial.<b>*</b></span><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08881726731449136425noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519880166634334103.post-76635202714126692342013-06-26T12:24:00.002+09:302013-06-26T13:00:30.641+09:30Wordless Wednesday - The Amateur Photographer Edition<br />
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Linking up with Trish at <a href="http://mylittledrummerboys.blogspot.com.au/2013/06/wordless-wednesday-birthday-surprises.html" target="_blank">My Little Drummer Boys</a> for Wordless Wednesday.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08881726731449136425noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519880166634334103.post-27794096541248293512013-06-25T09:50:00.000+09:302013-06-25T09:50:21.908+09:30The Acidic Observer, Volume VIIITuesday just seems to roll around so fast, don't you think?<br />
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Maybe because the world seems to be so considerate lately, and has been pulling out the dumb-arses faster than I can register them.<br />
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Let's address the most obvious issue to begin, shall we?<br />
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If you've been living under a rock in the Himalayas, then you may have missed the fact that Kim Kardashian realised her baby was due around the same time as the royal baby, and decided that moment she needed a C-section to cash in effectively.<br />
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So last week, she had a baby girl. And probably a tummy tuck.<br />
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And last week, she named her baby 'North West'. There's no word on the name she's given to her tummy tuck.<br />
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And last week, we found out they call little North, 'Nori' for short.<br />
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Because it's not enough to give her a ridiculous legal name, but they have to give her a nickname that implies she will be wrapped around some rice and salmon, and served with chopsticks.<br />
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Why not cut out the middle man and name her 'California Roll'?<br />
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However, this week, Kimye is in fine company. I'm unsure of the amount of national coverage this story has received, but we all know Darwin can be a bit of a hub for - to put it kindly - the intelligence-challenged members of the world. Or fuckwit tourists, if you prefer.<br />
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I'm not sure why they all come here, and the ones who manage to get a drivers license are the ones who I think should be deported immediately. Except for the interstate visitors who come here with their fucking caravans and Winnebago's.<br />
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They should be banned from leaving their own driveways.<br />
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Recently one tourist from the UK, 28 year old Alex Neale, took 'dickhead tourist' to a whole new low and was busted <a href="http://video.au.msn.com/watch/video/man-faces-backlash-for-foolish-stunt/xi0iwcq?cpkey=94684369-52ce-45f2-9a78-9c7b5922d727%257c%257c%257c%257c" target="_blank">riding around on the roof of a Coles delivery truck</a>.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy of the NT News website</td></tr>
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When the driver pulled over and Alex dismounted, he had the nerve to ask the driver if he could take him home, before just strolling off.<br />
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Alex, the cost of a bus ticket in Darwin has gone up by a whole dollar. But I'm sure if you had called your Mummy, she would have sent you the extra dollar. Shit, she might even have sent you enough to cover a return trip!<br />
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We can only hope the return ticket would be from Darwin to London.<br />
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But just in case he doesn't go home, I think we should all encourage Alex to participate in the fashionable activity of standing on croc traps. I think he would be a natural.<br />
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Ah, crocodiles - culling the gene pool since the beginning of time.<br />
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And while we're looking at dickheads in the Territory - let's have a quick look at our Chief Minister, shall we?<br />
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I'm sure there are plenty of ways to eloquently tell the opposition to butt out. But why bother with such nonsense when "get out of the way, piss off" says it all!<br />
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Adam Giles is one step closer to greeting the Queen with 'would you like a shower, shit and a shave before we crack a tinny over breakfast?'<br />
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People say the NT is a bit rough - but I just don't see it.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08881726731449136425noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519880166634334103.post-8273259896675319992013-06-18T11:24:00.000+09:302013-06-18T11:24:00.749+09:30The Acidic Observer, Volume VIIIt's been a couple of weeks since I posted - probably because there seemed to be a total lack of anything for me to take the piss out of. Without looking like a total jerk.<br />
<br />
And so here we are, back again, because there have been some developments that I just have to address.<br />
<br />
For starters, Saturday morning news announced that Princess Kate is now on maternity leave. That's wonderful, but for the life of me I can't think exactly what she's taking leave from. I know it's hard graft to have to get up in the morning, dress up, have someone do your hair and make up and then have your driver schlep you to a dock somewhere for you to throw a bottle of champagne at the base of a boat - but I honestly don't think 'maternity leave' is applicable here.<br />
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And speaking of babies, of course we're all aware of Kim Kardashian now being a mum to a baby girl. I honestly send her congratulations - as a mum of 2 girls I can honestly say it's awesome, when it's not total fucking chaos.<br />
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I still have genuine concerns that there will come a time when her new daughter won't fit in her handbag, and Kim will be faced with a terrible dilemma - 'do I keep the baby, or do I go back to having a dog in my purse?'<br />
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We're all waiting for the grand announcement of this little baby's name - and I hope it's something that she won't have to legally change when she's 2 days old. Obviously it will start with 'K' - perhaps Kay-Mart? Kat-Alog? Kitty-Litter?<br />
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No, something more traditional and relevant.<br />
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Ka-Ching? K-ash? K-ommission?<br />
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Whatever they name that little girl, I just hope they dress her properly. Because it's fair to say that her mother's choices have been enough to warrant her mentally unstable.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taking clucky to a fucking demented level...</td></tr>
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Although, I should confess that my parenting hasn't exactly been A+ grade lately, and this weekend took it to a whole new low.<br />
<br />
I decided that Saturday would be a great day to go dress shopping. I'm schelpping along to The Man's annual work-fancy-pants event, and I figured I should probably make an effort.<br />
<br />
Miss 4 decided it was essential to be in the changing room with me. Of course. I checked my privacy rights at the door when I gave birth to her.<br />
<br />
One minute everything is fine, the next minute she's scrambling under the changing room door like an escapee from Alcatraz and all I can hear is her wailing at my Mum..."the balloon is up my nose, Nanna, and I can't get it ouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut!!"<br />
<br />
Hang on - what balloon? What do you mean it's up your nose? WHAT THE FUCK!?<br />
<br />
So, we take a trip to the chemist to get some pointy tweezers to see if I can fish it out.<br />
<br />
I couldn't. Naturally.<br />
<br />
So we drive around Darwin, searching for a GP clinic that's still open.<br />
<br />
Nope, nothing. Naturally.<br />
<br />
The ultimate last resort is attending the emergency department of Royal Darwin Hospital. Usually because if you don't die of your injury first, you'll die of old age waiting to see a bloody doctor.<br />
<br />
We took the risk, and for some reason the emergency department was empty. EMPTY. It was a miracle. And then I remembered that the V8's were in town and chances are the waiting room wouldn't fill up until after all the pubs were shut. It was only 4pm - plenty of time!!<br />
<br />
We were triaged, and we were whisked in for the nurse to take vitals and whatnot. She said it would take 5 minutes for the doctor to fish it out and we'd be on our way.<br />
<br />
Famous last words.<br />
<br />
We sat under the stare of this sign for 5 hours.<br />
<br />
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<br />
And, finally, we were seen by a doctor before an autopsy had to be performed on all of us.<br />
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After looking her over for all of 3 minutes, the doctor decided that she couldn't see anything and that, because we had to wait so long, the balloon had probably moved further up into her nasal cavity and it was no longer accessible.</div>
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At this point, I almost lost my shit.</div>
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The doctor proceeded to tell me that she would send us home and to come back if a foul smelling discharge started coming out of Miss 4's nose.<br />
<br />
Yeah, I wouldn't come back if my fucking head was on fire.<br />
<br />
We eventually got home, had dinner at about 10pm and I had a night full of constantly checking on Miss 4, terrified she would suffocate in the night from a stupid balloon.<br />
<br />
At about 6am on Sunday, Miss 4 comes in to our room and stands with her nose inches from my face to announce "Mum, I have a boogey!!"<br />
<br />
Cue revolting sniffing and a sickening cough which produced the following...<br />
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<br />
We now have a standard conversation in our household.<br />
<br />
"What belongs in your nose?"<br />
"Boogeys and sneezes, and nothing else!!"<br />
<br />
Next time I go shopping for a dress, I'm going ALONE.<br />
<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08881726731449136425noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519880166634334103.post-66702728102596809572013-05-31T23:24:00.000+09:302013-05-31T23:24:24.036+09:30ChangeThey say a change is as good as a holiday - I'm not quite sure about that.<br />
<br />
I've just changed up my blog title and have come out of the shadows by linking my Google+ profile with my blog, and I'm not feeling like I've been on a holiday - I'm frightened my family or people from highschool will find this blog!<br />
<br />
For some reason, I am deeply uncomfortable with the idea that anyone I went to highschool with might find this and read it. Mostly because it took a long time for me to realise that some friendships weren't healthy and, of course, it all ended badly. As they do.<br />
<br />
There's always that haunting thought of those people reading about your life and snickering or picking it to pieces. It's probably more interesting that I should even care what they think, considering they haven't been in my life for so very long.<br />
<br />
I'm also scared of trolls - some of what I've seen on various other blogs has been so nasty.<br />
<br />
The Man tells me all the time that I care too much about what people think and I should focus more on how I feel about myself - what anyone else thinks is their own business and they should keep it to themselves.<br />
<br />
It's a shame my desperate 'people pleaser' personality can't grasp that concept - my head would be a far less complicated place to live!<br />
<br />
Admittedly, The Man, my parents and a couple of close friends know I have a blog. I think my cousin does, too - but I'm not sure she's ever read it. I should ask her.<br />
<br />
I suppose this step to removing some of the anonymity is a big one for me because it's standing up and owning everything that's on here. The good, the bad and the ugly.<br />
<br />
The change in blog name is symbolic too - simply 'Anything Kel'. Because this blog really is about anything related to me and what's happening in my life. It's all about me. And no matter how selfish that sounds, this is my place to be creative, to be honest, to put everything down 'on paper' that I can't process in my head.<br />
<br />
Not always the best idea, but hence the tag line.<br />
<br />
I have no doubt that there are plenty of people who aren't in the least bit interested, and I respect that. I have zero interest in anything a lot of people do - specific examples include, but are not limited to, Kim Kardashian, Gina Reinhardt and any character from Sesame Street.<br />
<br />
So there you go - changes have happened and it's the beginning of a new chapter in this blog, I think. The tone has changed lately - it's a lot more like me - sarcastic, boisterous and hilarious in my own head.<br />
<br />
If you stick around, I hope you like the new direction. If not, I'll try not to take it too personally*.<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"> </span><img border="0" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85865/cricketkp/5fe03b9cadd0658f2277344f8db1258f.png" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; background-color: white; border: 0px solid currentcolor; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; color: #666666; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; padding: 5px;" /><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*I can't guarantee anything, chances are I'll take it very personally, and I'll cry - or eat chocolate - or both.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08881726731449136425noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519880166634334103.post-49643318827414602342013-05-28T12:46:00.000+09:302013-05-28T12:47:56.696+09:30The Acidic Observer, The 'What the Fuck, Universe!?' EditionThis week The Acidic Observer comes courtesy of my own life.<br />
<br />
There will be swearing, irrational problem solving and more swearing.<br />
<br />
They are 100% First World problems, but they are shitting me to tears so I am going to bitch about them here.<br />
<br />
Because if I can't bitch on my own blog, then what the hell is the point??<br />
<br />
For starters, Power and Water are on my shit list. They are at an all time high on my shit list, in fact. Why? Well, in my experience, when you send out an amendment to a power bill that shows your bill is well and truly covered and you have a surplus to carry over to the next quarter and then the next week you send those same people an ACCOUNT for $1,300 for the same quarter you just told them was paid for - you're going to end up on someone's shit list.<br />
<br />
And, frankly, they should be grateful not to be on my 'hit and run list'.<br />
<br />
Then the pool man knocks on the door. He's checked on the leak from the pool pump we were talking about, and it's not the 'o' ring.<br />
<br />
No, of course it's not the 'o' ring - why would it be something that could be solved for under $10!<br />
<br />
The entire fucking sand filter has split, and to make it even better we can't claim it under the 10 year warranty because the pool and equipment came with the house when we bought it, and the warranty isn't transferable.<br />
<br />
Are you shitting me!!? Fine, there's another $1,200.<br />
<br />
Although I've been wondering how much it would cost just to fill the stupid thing in. I may have mentioned this solution to The Man...<br />
<br />
Finally, I wake up this morning and flick on the news only to find the TV in the lounge room has a massive red strip of pixels down one side of the screen.<br />
<br />
Yep - thanks Universe - fuck you too.<br />
<br />
On the bright side, this irritating shit happens in 3's, yes? So we're done. For now, at least.<br />
<br />
Power and Water seem to want money every 3 months.<br />
<br />
Bastards.<br />
<br />
We really need to invest in a generator.<br />
<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08881726731449136425noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519880166634334103.post-27600015011191250512013-05-21T09:50:00.001+09:302013-05-21T09:50:49.611+09:30The Acidic Observer, Volume VI wasn't 100% sure what I was going to write about this week. There was a lot of 'big news' in the papers, but nothing that required the piss being taken out of it.<br />
<br />
Okay, that's a lie - here in the NT, there was a news story about a car accident that was caused when the passenger decided it was essential to his existence on earth to moon the driver of a truck. Except instead of being a 'hero' to the mooning society of the NT, he became a distraction for the driver who lost control of the car and rolled it.<br />
<br />
I mean, really, where else is there to go with that? The stupidity is off the charts - I'm not sure I could even come up with an acidic response that has enough burn.<br />
<br />
All I know is that, with any luck, my Dad will have a new inmate to look after.<br />
<br />
It's been a big week here at home - there's the mystery of the disappearing chickens, the mystery of the massive fucking holes in our fence, and the undeniable connection between the missing chickens and the massive fucking holes in the fence.<br />
<br />
We are convinced that the poor chickens have met with foul play - excuse the pun - and it's most likely at the hands of the big arse dog from next door that keeps creating massive fucking holes in our fence.<br />
<br />
If the dog isn't careful, I will be repairing the holes with a lovely tanned leather, and he will be the star of his own great disappearing mystery.<br />
<br />
But aside from the Great Chicken Mystery of 2013 (which isn't really a mystery), the biggest news is that I've been made redundant.<br />
<br />
I'm actually quite thrilled!<br />
<br />
It must have been sightly confusing for the manager who called me. I'm not sure she was prepared for someone to be so pleased about being unemployed.<br />
<br />
I assume they were anticipating tears, questions about positions that could be applied for, chances to take on a role completely unsuitable just for the sake of remaining employed and, possibly, offers of being the person who cleans the carpet with their tongue.<br />
<br />
Trouble is, love, I'm not unemployed. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm on maternity leave. I'm not in Bali, living it up for 12 months, having a party. I'm busy trying to make sure 2 small people are fed, dressed, to pre-school when required, bathed and still alive by bedtime. If I manage to get my own shit together in that time, then my day is a 100% success and when I collapse into bed at 9pm I don't dream about stacking the dishwasher.<br />
<br />
I've done the working mother thing - and it was the biggest load of bullshit I've ever experienced.<br />
<br />
Yeah, sorry, a spreadsheet does not rate with me when my child has a raging fever and childcare has called for me to collect her. My manager would put on a 50 year old's version of a floor kicking tantrum, and I'd leave to pick up my sick kidlet anyway.<br />
<br />
Dude, I'm a parent. The day a tantrum scares me is the day I am completely fucked.<br />
<br />
In the end, I'm not even sure why my workplace included 'flexible', 'family' or 'friendly' in any of their documentation. It was clearly there for decoration. Or perhaps for mocking purposes.<br />
<br />
Either way, they've done me a massive favour. The only thing that could have made it better would be if I could have given them this...<br />
<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08881726731449136425noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519880166634334103.post-13348413678046304682013-05-14T11:53:00.001+09:302013-05-14T11:53:10.218+09:30The Acidic Observer, Volume IVReality television - it's endless fodder for acidic review.<br />
<br />
And I'd like to focus on 'Embarrassing Bodies'.<br />
<br />
The entire concept baffles me. If you had a terrible case of haemorrhoids, would you go on national television to have it assessed by a GP? Would you feel less embarrassed about your condition, knowing that people sitting down to dinner would be serenaded by your bum cheeks being unceremoniously spread?<br />
<br />
And that in itself brings up some serious questions regarding scheduling. I don't know what kind of iron-stomached sadist is choosing when it should go to air, but holy crap batman, you need to rethink that one.<br />
<br />
If you're too embarrassed to go to your regular GP - a closed environment, no cameras, total confidentiality - what the hell would possess you to jump into the back of a truck and have a doctor prod your privates while a cameraman hopes his wide angle lens can capture the 'moment'!?<br />
<br />
And let's hope you jump into the back of the right truck, for starters. You'll give the Postman a fucking coronary if you sit down and start launching into a conversation that contains words like 'discharge'.<br />
<br />
Trust me, your regular GP doesn't bat an eyelid at conversations like that. More importantly, if you haven't had a chance to wax in months and you need a pap smear in the depths of winter, your regular GP will be the only one to witness that. Most importantly, you don't have to apply foundation to every part of your body that a camera might need a close up and apply lipstick to all your lips - including your vag.<br />
<br />
And they draw a curtain while you get dressed so they don't go home and giggle about you tripping over your knickers.<br />
<br />
Now, don't lie - we've all had that moment where our toes haven't gone through the leg hole, resulting in a less than dignified nose dive into the floor. But there's no one there and you can pretend it never happened.<br />
<br />
If you go head first into an examination table because your stiletto got caught on the edge of your lacy g-string, on television, the whole world will be laughing.<br />
<br />
But just when I thought I had seen it all - every a-symmetric breast, every bent penis in the UK - and there was no where else for them to go, they come out with 'Embarrassing Bodies: Kids'.<br />
<br />
What the actual fuck?<br />
<br />
Are we seriously going to start parading our kids and their issues in front of television cameras? Well, yes, we are.<br />
<br />
"Oh darling, I know you have an issue with going to the toilet, but we're going to see a lovely doctor in the back of a truck and the entire world is going to be able to share your 'learning to poo' journey. Won't that be fun!?"<br />
<br />
And people claim bloggers are oversharers! Are you serious!? Yeah, I may write about applying lipstick to vaginal lips but I'm not attaching a 'how to' video!!<br />
<br />
Regardless of my opinion, it's clear reality television has a strong following. Whether this is a good or bad thing remains to be seen, but what I do know is the next reality program needs to be 'Psychiatric Roadshow'.<br />
<br />
There are a lot of Big Brother viewers out there who need to get their heads read.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08881726731449136425noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519880166634334103.post-38247748981983087272013-05-07T07:50:00.000+09:302013-05-07T07:50:37.005+09:30The Acidic Observer, Volume IIIAnother week, another edition. I figure this could go on forever, given the dumb-arsery of some people who manage to get their opinions published.<br />
<br />
It's currently 5:57am.<br />
<br />
Between the myriad of thoughts in my head, the ongoing process of 2 different alarms going off and being snoozed by The Man (since 5am) and the noise of one cat licking itself at end of the bed, I thought I might as well get up and write this.<br />
<br />
While I can return to sleep amidst endless thoughts and stupid alarms, I just can't ignore the cat.<br />
<br />
My burn this week is centred on <b>a series of comments in an article I read, titled<a href="http://www.essentialbaby.com.au/life-style/family-home/the-retro-housewife-20130428-2immn.html" target="_blank"> 'The Retro Mummy'</a></b>, featuring the lovely Corrie from <a href="http://www.retromummy.com/" target="_blank">Retro Mummy</a>, and Kate from <a href="http://www.picklebums.com/" target="_blank">Picklebums</a>, amongst others.<br />
<br />
The general overview of the article, written very well by Alexandra Carlton, is that there is a growing trend in women choosing to be at home with the family rather than prioritising a career, or being a working mum.<br />
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The article covers the position of stay at home mum and working mum quite well, and I honestly thought there wasn't anywhere else to go with it. Alexandra was open in her writing stating that being at home isn't something everyone can afford, which is very true, and Corrie admits to receiving emails regarding that very subject.<br />
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<span style="line-height: 20.99431800842285px;">The article states that there has always been a Working Mummy Vs Stay-At-Home-Mummy situation, much the same as Breast Vs Bottle and Immunisation Vs Non-immunisation. We 'eye each other with faint suspicion, each fearing the other is living a more fulfilled life...', and it's true! Personally, I have been struggling with the idea that I won't be returning to work and I'll be a full time SAHM, because I worry I won't be of enough value to my family - that if I'm not putting money in the bank, I have no worth.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 20.99431800842285px;">It's not true - being home with my girls and, hopefully, showing them that finding a balance between home and work is more than possible, is very valuable, and you can't put a price on that.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 20.99431800842285px;">Although Centrelink certainly try.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 20.99431800842285px;">But those points aren't my issue.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">In closing the article, there were quotes from 2 women, Anne Summers and Clementine Ford. Summers is apparently 'exasperated' by the fact that some women are choosing their families over the 9-5. And I would like to quote her with "<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">If women want to quilt and craft and sort out their linen cupboards on a weekly basis that is their business. But don't claim it is a superior way to live,". Yeah, because when I get out of bed all I can think about is making sure my tea towels are all folded the same.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">Clementine Ford goes on to say that staying home is 'self sabotage' because the divorce rate is high and, when that happens to you, finding a job after you've 'cut yourself off' is difficult.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">I have to admit, the sun is awfully bright in my eyes when I walk outside once a week to put the bin out. And there are these really loud machines that seem to contain people - my husband sits in one and it takes him to work every day. He calls it a 'car'. My husband tells me all sorts of stories about the outside world, and it sounds so exciting.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">One day I hope to be able to read something called a 'novel'. But right now I'm in the middle of my Woman's Weekly Cookbook.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">Anne and Clementine, thank you for your feedback, and thank you so much for claiming that the stay at home mum is dragging society back to the 50's and, in doing so, are reducing the value of women all around the world.</span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 20.99431800842285px;">My blood boils at the accusation that a change in attitude towards work and family means my generation has wasted everything that the bra-burning days fought for. And while I could stand back and say 'I never asked you to burn anything for me, so go fuck yourself!', I should probably take a different path to the same conclusion, or risk having my house attacked by Germaine Greer clones, catapulting burning girdles at the windows and screaming "down with cupcakes!!"</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 20.99431800842285px;">It shits me to tears that Feminists are so high and mighty about what has been done to further the working woman, that they can't see a choice to be home or at work as another positive step for the feminist movement. Once upon a time, it wasn't a choice - if you were female you were home. No negotiations. There was a time where we weren't even viewed as worth educating. We were a burden, something our father's had to pay a man to marry and take away.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 20.99431800842285px;">The last time I checked, baking a cake and learning to make a quilt aren't the indicators that we're returning to medieval times and we're going to start putting thrushes on the floor and use chamber pots - because, you know, we're home to empty them now.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 20.99431800842285px;">What about those stay at home mum's who start a business based on a passion they found while home with their children? Are they dragging us back to the 'old days'? </span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 20.99431800842285px;">Trust me, there is nothing easy about choosing to stay home. Most working mum's will tell you that the days they go to work as their 'day's off'. I know mine sure as hell, were! Conversations with adults, 8 entire hours without having to watch anything from the Disney Junior channel and when you say 'no' to someone, they don't throw themselves to the ground and scream, until some stranger walking past labels you a 'bad person'.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 20.99431800842285px;">And let me tell you bitches something, trying to write a scathing blog post while nursing a baby on one side, and comforting a sick 4yo on the other isn't easy, but that's what I'm doing right now.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 20.99431800842285px;">Maybe there would be no mummy war about this if the feminists calmed the fuck down and stopped trying to find a culprit for a change in society that they don't like. Maybe the feminists are the ones who are struggling to keep up? Maybe the feminists are the ones regressing? Because having a whinge and a cry when things don't go your way, sounds awfully like the temper tantrums Miss 4 pulls when I tell her she can't have chocolate for dinner.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 20.99431800842285px;">So put on your big girl panties, put your fucking bra back on and stop making women feel bad for their choices. Or else we'll put you on the naughty spot.</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08881726731449136425noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519880166634334103.post-29411620492385454532013-04-30T09:47:00.001+09:302013-04-30T09:47:51.823+09:30The Acidic Observer, Volume IIHello Tuesday!<br />
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For a minute there I thought I wasn't going to have much, if anything, to add to this little ranty pants saga. I was worried.</div>
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First of all, Dan and Steph won the MKR finale - it was the best outcome I could have hoped for. Dammitt. And then, there were no drink driving celebrities, no one suing KFC because they don't serve Big Mac's and no new cars with cameras to replace our eyeballs.</div>
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But then, like a beacon of ranty hope, Channel Seven premiered their new show, <b>Celebrity Splash</b>.</div>
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Oh. Dear. God.</div>
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It was like a car crash - you know you shouldn't look, but the chance of glimpsing something horrific is just too tempting. And it delivered.</div>
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I was mildly confused for a moment because I couldn't work out where the celebrities were. I know I'm young-ish, but I like to pride myself on having been born in the mid 80's and, as such, familiar with a vast majority of past and present TV personalities.</div>
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However I'm not sure if the word 'celebrities' is as applicable for this show, so much as 'random people, some who used to be on TV before you were born'. But I agree, 'Random People Splash' just doesn't have the same ring to it.</div>
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Perhaps 'I've Run Out of Money Splash'? or 'My Knees Are Giving Out and I Don't Think I'll Make The Next Olympics Splash'?</div>
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Aside from the fact that it appears to be a bunch of <strike>victims</strike> people throwing themselves from the highest platform available, I'm not quite sure what the point is. There are plenty of belly flops that make you cringe...</div>
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Wait! That's it! I noticed they were mildly ambiguous about what the grand prize would be for the unfortunate, spandex clad winner, and it has just occurred to me. </div>
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What this show should really be called is 'Reconstruction Splash'! By throwing themselves from a platform and possibly having their faces mashed and internal organs liquefied by the watery impact, the grand prize is an all expenses paid trip to the reconstructive surgery ward of the local hospital.</div>
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And we all know that the first step in reviving a long lost career in television (or a non existent one) is some brand new, well enhanced plastic features. And a body lift so tight, the surgeon uses your belly button as a marker for your new lips.</div>
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I know we've run out of ideas for movies and so we're rehashing everything we can (Titanic 3D, anyone?), and it's only a matter of time before we see <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/King_Kong_(1933_film)" target="_blank">Fay Wray</a> being dragged to the top of the Empire State Building in 3D, but I honestly thought TV had a bit longer before we were dredging the bottom of the ideas pond.</div>
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Okay, let me re-phrase that. Dredging the bottom of the Dutch ideas pond. Because apparently we can't think of terrible ideas all on our own, we have to borrow some from the land of legalised marijuana. Which kind of says it all, really.</div>
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In the meantime, I am grateful for my Foxtel subscription - yes, it may be mostly re-runs and shows from the US, but if it means I can avoid the terror that is Free to Air TV, then it's worth every cent.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08881726731449136425noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519880166634334103.post-71319027347706270642013-04-25T15:24:00.000+09:302013-04-25T15:24:07.438+09:30Thank You...<div style="text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.army.gov.au/Our-history/Traditions/Anzac-Day" target="_blank">ANZAC Day 2013</a></span></b></div>
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They Shall Grow Not Old, As We That Are Left Grow Old</div>
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Age Shall Not Weary Them, Nor The Years Condemn</div>
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At The Going Down Of The Sun, And In The Morning</div>
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We Will Remember Them</div>
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Lest We Forget</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08881726731449136425noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519880166634334103.post-66542536387046848602013-04-23T11:53:00.000+09:302013-04-23T11:58:02.932+09:30The Acidic Observer, Volume II've got my ranty pants on this week. Why? Because the world has gone completely insane and I feel the urge to get on my soap box about it.<br />
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The title of this post is, hopefully, the first in a series of soap box posts. In my mind I see it as a newspaper edition - but instead of reporting current events from an all-angles, completely un-biased position, I am going to be taking the sarcastic, exasperated and outraged position and throw in some <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reductio_ad_absurdum" target="_blank">reductio ad absurdum</a>, just to keep it interesting.</div>
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So beware world - if you make a stupid move, I'll be on your arse, ready to point out your idiocy.</div>
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To begin this inaugural edition, I would like to start with the <b>22 year old student who is suing McDonald's because she spilled coffee on her leg and it burnt</b>. Honey, if everyone who spilled their Maccas coffee on their lap sued them and won, there wouldn't be a bloody Maccas! She states that the lid wasn't secured properly by the staff, and I believe her - 99% of the time the 10 year old serving me a meal is barely able to reach the cup dispenser, let alone fully secure a lid to a steaming cup of coffee.</div>
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What I don't understand is the need to sue them. Okay, the lid wasn't on properly and you spilled your half strength vanilla latte with 2 marshmallows and whipped cream on your lap. It burnt. Badly - second degree burns are no laughing matter. But can we really go about suing organisations or people simply because a series of events occurred and you inadvertently got hurt?</div>
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They put massive warnings on the cup that the contents are hot and may burn - it's not an invitation to test out the theory.</div>
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If you were at home and made a cup of coffee, tripped on your cat/dog/hairless mole rat and spilled it all over yourself, are you going to sue your pet? Are you going to sue your Mum, or your boyfriend if they served you hot coffee and you accidentally wore it? No. Because it was an accident - and this is no different.</div>
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If you ask me, this entire situation is the coffee equivalent of 'I'm going to sue the condom company because I got pregnant and the box didn't say the condom was ineffective if applied to any body part other than a penis'.</div>
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Next on my hit list is <b>an advertisement by Subaru</b> for their new vehicle that has not just a reversing camera, but 2 cameras that look out the windscreen and will tell the car to brake so you don't run down an innocent pedestrian.</div>
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The reversing camera makes perfect sense. I have one on my car, and I love it because I don't have eyes in the back of my head (shhhh, don't tell Miss 4) and I certainly can't stretch my vision to the rear bumper of my vehicle and reverse at the same time.</div>
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I DO have 2 eyes in the front of my head that happen to be able to look through a windscreen and judge when I should brake to avoid an accident or killing an innocent bystander. My suggestion would be, if you don't have this ability, to step away from the vehicle and get your seeing-eye dog out of the driver's seat.</div>
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Lastly, my attention is drawn to the <b>recent arrest of Reese Witherspoon and her husband</b> - whats-'is-face. He was pulled over for high level drink driving, and Reese tried the 'don't you know who I am?' move. It backfired and she got arrested for backchatting the police officer. And he honestly had no idea who she was, so she was wasting her booze-soaked-breath anyway.</div>
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It's not the fact that she attempted to talk her way out of it that annoys me the most - but the fact that they were in that situation to begin with. Reese, I'm sure you've made enough movies and get enough alimony from Ryan to be able to pay for a taxi - you have more money available on your credit card than some people could possibly imagine, and yet you both decided to drive and risk the lives of other people on the road because you were too cheap, or perhaps you thought too 'special', to take a taxi that other 'normal' people use.</div>
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Just because she's famous doesn't make her husband's actions any less dangerous. It doesn't make them invincible. It doesn't make them any less responsible for their choices - even if Reese did think she was famous enough to talk her way out of it. If Reese and her family were involved in an accident with a drunk driver, you can bet she would be on day time talk shows to rant and rave faster than flies on a shit. She would be the face of every anti-drink-driving campaign available, and she would be burning crates of whiskey in the streets, just to make a point.</div>
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But put her on the opposite side of the story, and suddenly being famous means you feel you can operate heavy machinery while soused. Interesting theory - glad we didn't have to discover the ultimate outcome from that idea.<br />
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And so ends the first edition of The Acidic Observer. I hope you enjoyed my withering reviews, and I have no doubt I'll be back next week with equally scathing reports on some more of humanity's best cock ups from the week.<br />
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