The Acidic Observer - The Christmas 2015 Edition

So 2015 is coming to a close. And marks 2 years since I become a full time SAHM.

For me, this is a huge milestone and one that I thought I would be 100% comfortable with.

Unless you consider all the interesting conundrums this milestone has thrown at me.

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.

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.

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.

Then you have the 'Trim, Taught and Terrific Brigade'. And they issue things like this...

Image found here

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. You should go read it.

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.

Although I will agree that people who don't use their indicators should be slapped. Repeatedly. With a chair.

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?!

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?

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.

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).

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...

At the end of the day I have nothing to be competitive about with anyone.

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?!

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!

There, I said it.

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.

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.

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. And that includes yourself.

Keeping 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

I'm pretty awesome like that.

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!!

I also go off on my own tangent and buy things just because. Which is almost all the time.

So when The Man came home from an interstate work trip, our conversation went something like this...

HIM: I'm so glad to be home...

ME: I'm glad your home too - you have to see the last few little things I got for Christmas!

HIM: Were these the purchases you warned me about on Friday when you called me?

ME: Yep, but don't worry about the cost, just think how happy people will be when they see all these lovely things!

HIM: Okay, show me...hang on - how is this mountain of bags 'a few small things'!?

ME: Because they're smaller than a car? Oh, there are also 3 boxes in the store room, too.

HIM: .....!

ME: How about I get you a drink?

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...

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

And then the magic will be dead for everyone. EVERYONE!

But I suppose that means The Man and Miss 4 will then be fighting over the Bah Humbug hat.

Image found here

With any luck, I'll pass on my love of Christmas to Miss 1 and the magic will continue.

Even after she finds out the truth.



Do you have any family traditions or memories that make Christmas magic for you?

Pudding!

*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.*

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.

Image found via Google

For my family, if we bothered to have one, it was always a flaming pudding.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

This review is more from him than me.

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!

Image found here

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.

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.

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 www.ithaspuddings.com.au

www.choice.com.au listed Itha's puddings as number one out of the four finalist puddings in their higher end category for 2013.

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!

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.

 (and The Man)

Taking it Easy...

Sorry it's been a little slow around these parts - wrapping things up at work before my annual leave took a lot more of my time than I actually thought it would.

Some may say that I might not have had so much to finish off, had I blogged a little less and worked a little more. But I'm at the close of Annual Leave Day 1 - and so I don't actually care right now.

I've spent the day doing nothing, only getting dressed to go to my parents house for dinner and the most I did around the house was turn on the dishwasher. I'm not even sure the dishes in there were actually dirty - but it gave me a sense of pride so I'm not going to worry about the details.

I'm catching up on my recorded episodes of 'One Born Every Minute' and 'Dr Quinn: Medicine Woman'. Yes, I love Dr Quinn, and no I'm not ashamed. I can't hear your snorts of laughter, so it's all good.

But the main message of this is to say I'm going to be taking it easy. Since I lost my iPhone I've had a forced withdrawal from Twitter and blogging and all the other things I used too obsessively check previously, and I think it's been good for me.

So for the next 5 weeks my priority is going to be my family and doing the things together that we want to. And believe me, we have plenty to do.

I have baking to be done - and even if I didn't enjoy baking I'd be forced to, because our chickens have started laying about 6-8 eggs PER DAY. That's a shit load of egg's! I can't give them away fast enough so the only other solution I can think of is to become a the Betty Crocker of Darwin.

And when I'm not baking, I'll be tackling the tropical jungle that is our pain in the arse garden. Goodbye palm trees. Goodbye pointless, unidentifiable shrubbery. Goodbye horrible paving and hello to the garden of my dreams! Hopefully we'll also get the grass mowed and I won't have to take a cut lunch and water bag to get to the letter box.

We'll be restoring the pool to a habitable state, safe for human activity. Because if the pool pump doesn't go in this week with enough chlorine and salt to bleach the earth, I will loose my shit. $700 and endless waiting for the pool man to declare it safe only for the bloody pump to blow up and the new one not fit the existing pipelines has made me very upset. I'm sick of looking out our bedroom window only to see a cesspool. Although it does match the state of the garden. Ahem.

The chickens will be relocating to a penned area in the back yard. Because they've developed a love of roosting on the stairs. And I don't love having to wear my wellies to get down the stairs. Getting to the clothes line has become a daily game of chance - and my chances of not ending up stepping in chicken shit is getting less by the minute so they won't be as free rage as I had originally planned.

But it's not a bad thing - it's getting to the point where they're bigger than the cats. And that's fine, until I have to catch them and then I realise that the bigger they get the sooner they'll eat me in my sleep. The pen is, therefore, for my safety, too.

Otherwise it'll just be filled with shopping and visits to the park and Christmas and New Year and then a certain little girl's 3rd birthday.

I'm still slightly in denial about that. I'm not ready to have a 3 year old. Because that mean's I'll have to turn 28 shortly after. And I'll be honest - any age after 25 just wasn't in my life plan. It would mean our daughter would never be older then 13 months, but I was, and still am, totally okay with that. The older she get's, the more it reminds me of the ever growing age gap between her and the elusive second child we want.

Fertility is a bitch - she's not getting a Christmas card this year. There are lots off bloggy babies due in 2012, and I'd like ours to be one of them. But I'm finding myself getting cranky (again!) that it's not happening and I don't want to be the bitch who can't be happy for other people's wonderful news - so it's a sign that I need to take a step back and chill out.

Who knows, maybe all the things we've got going over the next 2 months will be a good distraction and we might get that 2012 baby after all.

And if not, I have an internal wall that's coming down so I'll be able to vent with a hammer.

I'll be popping in now and then to update as I feel like it, but regular programming might not return until 2012.

So to you and your families I wish all the best for a fabulous Christmas and a safe and happy New Year.

Dear Father Christmas...

Apologies for not having posted this week.

It started out a bit of a mess when my boss went on leave and all the lunatics descended on me. They were obviously waiting for her to run off and get married so they could pounce on the weak one.

I also had to run a Remote Emergency Skills Training course this weekend. Picture 15 GPs in a room with 7 experts on remote emergency training and 2 admin people tying to make sure everyone had their laryngoscopes, that the defibrillator machine worked and all the simulation/CPR dummies were in full working order (i.e. the trainer could stand there and make it cry/moan/scream/gasp for air etc...)

I even had to make sure the baby dummy's umbilical cord was inserted and able to be catheterised with blood and everything coming out of it.

It was a very stressful weekend and I wasn't even being assessed on my ability to keep someone alive. It was a good weekend to make sure I was taking my anti-depressants properly.

But I ran out of them on Tuesday. Meant to get them on the Thursday on our way to the hotel we were staying in while I was working, but the Guru sighed and rolled his eyes at me when I asked if we could stop off at the chemist that's open late. Said to me he was sure I could make time during the weekend to get them and he didn't want to have to make a detour on our way into the city.

Needless to say my week kinda went downhill from there and I've been struggling ever since. The smallest drama will have me either in tears or irrationally angry. I almost quit my job Saturday night because I was quickly spiraling down into the abyss.

I've still not got my script re-filled. And when my Mum came to pick up the Toddler for her regular Sunday night sleep over, tonight, she knew instantly something was wrong. So she found my script and is re-filling it for me because she knows I won't.

I'm already at the point now where my brain is telling me that I'm not worth it and the Guru knows I'm not. That I should just kill myself and make him happy, able to start over with someone who is normal and not a fucking lunatic like me. That our daughter would be better off with a different Mummy and my parents would be better off with no child at all, rather than a only child who is a psycho.

It's surprised me that I've gone downhill so fast, but then I've not been sleeping because the never ending thoughts keep me awake, and I've been under a lot of stress. No wonder they use sleep deprivation and stress as forms of torture. I'd buckle in a night.

So I have finally popped online for the first time this week, and I've seen lots of lovely Blogger's listing their Christmas List for Father Christmas. To be honest, I've loved reading them and they've been a wonderful distraction from the doom and gloom in my head. And as a result I've decided to write my own list to try and pick myself up while I'm waiting for my sanity tablets.

FYI, this week I'm going to do this list as part of my 50 Days of Christmas, but without the linky part.

So here I go...






Dear Father Christmas,

This year I've tried to be good. I really have tried. I know I've been intolerant of GPs claiming money from my budget when they earn more in a day than I do in a month and I know I've been very, very impatient of other people on the road.

I'm well aware that if the wind had changed at any time, my middle finger would be permanently up.

But all that aside, I do have a couple of small things I'd really like to put forward for your consideration.

1. A very happy, simple, Christmas day. Last year was so complicated with the Guru's mother dictating who and who couldn't come to Christmas. Even though it was in our home. And my parents spent most of Christmas Day alone as a result and it broke my heart. So this year, I would like a simple day where we are all together and that's it.

2. To bring the Toddler everything on her list. We'll be working hard to cover things, but if you could cover the leftover's that'd be awesome. On the other hand, if we get it all covered - consider it our present to you - one less list to have to worry over! But I recommend you stop in for a snack anyway...the Toddler want's to go all out for you and the reindeer this year.

3. For the new pool pump to be installed. We have the pump and everything, but the Guru hasn't exactly got it installed. And after spending $700 on getting the pool water to swimming grade, seeing to green once again makes me want to cry. And I felt that way before this week so I know it's not just my brain being dramatic. I'd happily settle for you taking control of the Guru's body and getting him out there - and you won't need to say anything, if the job get's done I'll know it's you.

4. For me to get a new job. I now this request might be stretching the friendship, but if you could put in a good word for me at the job section in the Life department, I'd really appreciate it. I'm sick of the unpaid overtime, the stress, and the ungrateful, highly paid bastard GPs that I have to deal with every day. I want something 9-5, that when I go home I don't have to think about anything work related until I walk through the door at 8:59am the next day.

5. For our renovations to go well over the Christmas break. Particularly the window removal and new wall. We're in the wet season so if the window removal and wall installation fails then we'll be living in an elevated swimming pool. But I guess then the gaps in our floor boards would be an advantage??

6. For the Guru to agree to carpet in the bedrooms. I miss carpeted bedrooms...something from South Australia that I really want to have up here. Apart from David Jones and Myer. The Guru says no...but I've found some amazing carpet and I love it. I'll agree to new floorboards everywhere else and tiling where necessary, if you just get the carpet thing happening. Feel free to leave a roll under the tree - the Guru can't argue if it's already in the house.

7. And finally...I'd really love it if you could help everyone who needs help this Christmas. Everyone should feel safe, happy and know that they're loved because everyone deserves those things all the time, especially at Christmas.

The Toddler will be leaving a raw energy salad and water for the reindeer (I'll make sure there's extra water...it's stinking hot here, this time of year) and we're leaving Tim Tam's and milk for yourself. I'll leave the air-con on too so if you all want to come inside and cool down before continuing on your trip, feel free.

The population hit 7 billion this year so I know you're job is getting bigger by the second, but I want you to know you've always done a fantastic job and you make the world a wonderful place for children around the world. Even for the adults, too.

Take care and thanks for reading,

Friday Fluff - Christmas Eve Edition

Happy Christmas Eve, everyone!!

I am so proud of myself for having made it to today without being busted shaking, weighing, measuring and holding up to lights in the hope to sneek a peek at the many things under the tree which have my name on them.

I also do the same to the pressies for the Toddler and the Guru that I don't know what they are.

Yeah - patience and I don't speak since the tragic Christmas incident of 1996. Lets just say she totally bailed on me and as a result I well and truly knew what I was getting before I should have. Cue Christmas Day present opening indifference. It wasn't pretty.

Since then I have tried DESPERATELY to contact patience and tell her to call me or email. But I crossed a line that warm day in December, and she's not having a bar of it. As a result, while I LOVE surprises, impatience and nosey-ish behaviour get the better of me.

The Guru solved this by taking everything to another household entirely and then slowly adding things to the tree without announcing it. Sensible man.

So to everyone out there I would like to wish you all a very happy and safe Christmas and New Year. I will be popping in now and then, but won't be doing much on here until after 10 January.

That's when I get back to work and I'll be doing this instead of working.

And without further ado, I present the Friday Fluff - Christmas Eve Edition:

Christmas 2009 - The Toddler's First @ 11.5mths

Don't forget to leave carrots out for the reindeer with whiskey and malteasers milk and cookies for the Big Man.

And for those of us who are young, or just young at heart you can keep an eye on Santa's progress via NORAD Tracks Santa

"A Merry Christmas to All, and to All a Good Night" - FATHER CHRISTMAS (aka Santa Claus, Saint Nick, Pere Noel...)

"I stopped believing in Santa Claus when I was six. Mother took me to see him in a department store and he asked for my autograph." - SHIRLEY TEMPLE

"Let's be naughty and save Santa the trip." - GARY ALLAN

Let them know it's Christmas

Louisa over at Everything is Edible is doing something wonderful.

In the wake of the Christmas Island boat tragedy, she is helping bring Christmas to the children in the detention centre.

Already sponsoring this initiative are:

Tiger Tribe

Just Us Kids

Fairground Child

Treetop Toyshop

Crayola

BHF Couriers who are going to send the delivery at cost price.

More donations are welcome. Specifically,

soft toys;
craft supplies but no scissors or anything that could be used for self harm;
paper supplies;
dolls;
toy cars;

How can you help?

The courier fee is $930 and we need to raise the funds to cover this. If you are able to help with this please email louisa@everythingisedible.com

Let people know about this via whichever methods you prefer – and promote the sponsors as a thank you for their generosity.

Due to the short turnaround we have on this, sponsors need to be Melbourne based and able to get the items to Louisa by Wednesday (22/12/10) lunchtime. There is a limited space for items that we can send at this time.

For those of you who are not Melbourne based you can post or email a card of support and encouragement that Louisa will include in the package.

All enquiries, including obtaining delivery details for items and cards can be directed to louisa@everythingisedible.com

You can keep up to date by joining the AMB group Gifts for Children at Christmas Island or via http://everythingisedible.com/blog

I find it ironic and sad that a detention centre should be based in a location that carries the name of a season which encourages joy, generosity and love in all it's forms.

Genuine refugees get a fair flogging, and while we may not understand their desperation or the way in which they arrive on our shores, they are people with families who are trying to find a better life.

So let's share with them the spirit of Christmas, and bring a smile to a child's face.

Layby Fail.

I love layby. I love the end of financial year toy sales and the boxing day sales and all those other sales that seem to come every week or so.

But mostly, I love layby. It means I can pretend I am so totally organised for Christmas and birthdays months in advance.

We picked up the Xmas layby over the weekend and yesterday my Mum and I spent a day wrapping. It was wonderful, opening boxes and gazing at the myriad of toys and other items chosen carefully from the laminated booklet at the K-Mart layby counter.

By the way - K-Mart - I LOVE that process. Do you know how HAPPY I was to know that I didn't have to fist fight other parents for the things I wanted because it was the last on the shelf? It saved a lot of time and bail money. Thanks.

Moving on - the joy of opening boxes soon turned to confusion as I encountered items I didn't remember. Who the hell did I buy the Animal Train for? It's ages 6mth+...the Toddler is almost 24mths and so are all her friends.

Never mind - I can save it for May when my friend's second baby is due.

But wait...why did I get 2 of these? And why...what...huh??

This is when I start to curse my inability to write things down - or even keep track of reciepts. I've wrapped everything I can remember who and why it was purchased - but I have a box of stuff that I've labeled 'What the...?' and it will have to be assessed in the New Year.

I don't have the brain capacity to zip up my pants at the momemt, let alone try and work out who and why these 'extra' items are in my house.

Worst case scenario, they get recycled for next Christmas.

The Guru was not surprised at this. He's never surprised when I turn up with more of the same. I am the person who goes food shopping and brings home 2 large cans of corn because I am convinced we have none.

They then get added to the 15 cans at the back of the pantry. I have the same strange problem with tuna. But we are constantly running out of bread, milk and cat food.

Hey, if we have a cyclone, at least I can build a bunker out of corn cans and feed ourselves and the cats with tuna.

10 Things I've Learnt as a Result of Online Shopping

I'm having a slight panic attack about some items I've purchased that haven't arrived yet - and they are intended for Xmas, so for them to not be here yet is making me hyperventilate slightly. It's the control freak in me that's convinced I've been fleeced and I'll never get the gear. Basically, I didn't post it, so it didn't happen.

Yeah - online shopping is more stressful than regular Xmas-psycho shopping for me.

As a result, I have decided to list the following lessons as a result of my situation.

1. Online Shopping is awesome, convenient and easy - but if you happen to miss out on something at least in a shopping centre you can throw the person, who got the last pair of ballet flats in your size, a filthy look and decide to run them down in the carpark in an act of revenge.

2. Ordering things from the US or Canada when the Aussie dollar is doing well is a great idea - but forgetting that you live in a town where all mail is delivered by carrier pigeon (for more info read here) makes the distance your package needs to travel a fearful thing to consider.

3. Checking a combination of my Etsy inbox, Canada Post Parcel Tracking and my email 500 times per day does not make it more likely that my order has been processed and the delivery card being dropped into my letterbox as we speak.

4. Canada Post Parcel Tracking needs to learn to track items in order to have it's name apply.

5. Online Shopping makes checking your letterbox exciting every day because you might have that sacred parcel delivery card - it also makes it bitterly shite when your parcel card isn't there.

6. Optus, ANZ, Westpac, Power&Water, Council Rates and anyone else wanting money for services rendered or sending me more paper reminding me how much money we DON'T have in our bank accounts can bugger off. You are taking up valuable space in my letterbox that should actually be overflowing with parcel delivery cards. Please resume paper based communication once Christmas is over.

7. I now have an obsession with parcel delivery cards.

8. Driving past the post office repeatedly on the off chance that a postal worker will know who I am and flag me down to announce they just got a plethora of parcels for me, and to come in and get them is highly unlikely.

9. The parcel delivery people (or 'Contractors') that are hired by the Carrier Pigeon Postal Service (also known as Australia Post Darwin) are just plain crap. Apparently, no, they do not knock on your door to let you know they are there. Your options are:

• That they will park on the opposite side of the street from your home and sit on their horn until you come out of your house to see what the hell your neighbour is doing to their car. They then proceed to walk halfway across the street, throw your parcel at you and run away...OR
• That they will actually park in your driveway and sit there in silence until you happen to look out the front window and see someone with an Australia Post magnet and P Plates on their car burn rubber out of your driveway having left a 'You weren't home, so come and see us after 4pm with the other 150 people we've avoided today.  P.S: eat my dust.' card in your letterbox. You attempt to chase them, even though you're only wearing a singlet and your scungy undies because you've been doing housework. Once you give up on the chase you try your best to make it back home without the neighbours seeing you and reporting you to the police.

10. I don't like running the streets in my scungy undies and singlet - so I'm just going to let them leave me a parcel delivery card and pick it up after 4pm like everyone else.

So tell me, what has online shopping taught you?

Christmas Joy

Oh yeah - December 1 rolled around and I was on the tree like a rabid possum on roadkill.

I took about sixy shots of the tree - and none of them are good enough. The flash was all wrong, I flicked every light in the general area on and off in different combinations to try and get the prettiness of the lights, but still see the decorations properly.

Basically my skills and my camera were just not up to the task.

And one day, I will fix one or both of these problems.

So for now - I reveal to you the first Xmas Tree in OUR OWN HOME...

Adequate lighting to see the tree - but not the 150 fairy lights!

Twinkle, twinkle little light...

My best effort...is a bit rubbish

The Toddler now enjoys turning on the lights at night, and is thrilled that the Guru decided to put lights on the house this year.

That's becase the Guru is suffering from light envy.

Light envy occurs once a year when a member of your household see's someone in your street (or suburb in our case, because we don't just compete with our street apparently...) with a magnificent display of Christmas Joy in the form of lights.

Lucky for us, we have the Griswold's living in our suburb this year. For those who are unfamiliar with this family, please observe the following:



Image from here



Image from here

Now you have some idea of the insane level of Chrismtas Light magic we're up against. Needless to say I sleep with my sunglasses on due to the light level in our town not dropping below eye-searing.

The Guru insists that he does not have Light Envy. I beg to differ. Because driving past, screaming 'I will beat you, Griswold-type family!' and then proceeding to speed to Bunnings to buy Christmas lights says to me you have more problems than you're willing to admit. One being mild insanity - the other being Light Envy.

So far we have some coloured solar lights in a tree, and some icicle type lights hanging above one side of the carport.

The Guru has a week off this week - and I'm anticipating I'll arrive home to our own eye-searing extravaganza, and Power & Water will be rubbing their grubby hands together thinking of all the zero's they'll be adding to our bill in the New Year.

I might just sell that kidney now before it get's destroyed by Christmas alcoholism joy.

The Toddler is also thrilled that this time of year comes with a magic box that opens once a day and delivers a small chocolate.

To the un-initiated, this is also known as an Advent Calendar.

The Guru and I may or may not have one each. And we may or may not be waiting for 24 December so we can sit down and just scoff 24 chocolates all at once.

Ah Christmas - it just brings out the best in our family.

Friday Fluff & a bit of a ramble

So I did actually write this on Friday - but apprently I forgot to press the publish button...
______________________________________________________

Well - T.G.I.F everyone! I thought it would never get here - or at least, but the time it did, I'd be dead.

Yeah, that's rather dramatic but that's been my week so I'm rollin' with it.

And so - to the Friday Fluff!!

Ah, my little Picasso.

The Toddler and the Guru spent a weekend making a giant, custom toybox for the lounge room. The Toddler loved being able to paint it all by herself. I know she's proud because whenever someone comes over the first thing she does is drag them to the toybox and screech "I paint toybox! My hands! Daddy help too!"

Good to know his input wasn't totally overlooked. But I think if the Coles delivery man has to smile and pretend to be excited over the toybox again, well, our groceries may just be flung into the driveway as the truck races past.

But I do love the toybox and because it's custom it's just the right height and size for everything.

The smaller box down the end was a 'Guru Trademark' and is for all her building blocks. As a result they stay separate from all her other toys, but they're not stored in boxes or bags that are too heavy for her to lift out of the toybox.

When he explained it to me, it was another reminder of why he's such an amazing Dad and Husband.

And so - I will be doing what every good 'other half' will be doing over the lead up to Xmas.

No...nothing THAT dirty - honestly, it was a toybox people - not even a 1ct Solitaire on my hand would get me going THERE.

What I meant was that I will be entering the Great Realm of Man-Stuff... and purchasing power tools.

Specifically an edge trimmer/whipper snipper thingy and something that will blow and suck...LEAVES!

Honestly, you're all filthy.  Moving on...

But I have no idea what I'm doing. An aisle at Bunnings can have me so overwhelmed with choice that I need a therapy session to choose between a matte or satin finish paint.

Brands mean nothing to me because as far as I know they're all made in China by the same people - they just rotate the branding stickers.

(and speaking of things made in China - did you know Margarine is 1 chemical away from plastic? Yep - think about that the next time you're lathering up your crumpet!)

So where to start?? Who to ask? WHAT DO I DO?

And don't say ask the Bunnings people. The last time we were there and I asked where I could find the ladies toilet, they took me around to the display bathroom.

A lovely gesture - but I don't do spectator sports.

Maybe if I start out slow, flick through some junk mail catalogues, get some ideas, then I'll feel brave enough to tackle the idea of actually making a purchase - and possibly encourtering another Bunnings employee.

And I'll keep the receipts, so when it's wrong I can exchange it for what he actually asked for.

Tuesday Fluff - 'cos I've no idea where Friday went...

or the weekend for that matter!

Oh wait, Saturday and the early hours of Sunday morning were spent out to dinner with friends.

But that aside, I have no idea what I did! I was doing washing at stupid hours on Sunday night....and snuck some in yesterday since I was home.

The guru is impressed with the echoing silence in our home at the moment. I have laryngitis.

The Toddler does not - and she feels the need to fill these extended silences from me with random noise. Hey, whatever floats your boat, baby girl.

So, just quickly I'm gonna do the fluff thang...

No one can rock plastic pumpkin basket earrings like my little one. I'm just saying.

SO - here I am. It's 3pm and I've done some work related stuff on the computer, gone to the gym and have come back to work. As far as productive days go, this one is right up the top with the day I gave birth.

I have fully realised that I've been mega slack with this blog lately. There have been as many extended silences on here as there have been in my office today. Which is highly unusual.

But for some reason nothing lately seemed blog-worthy. Or if they did, they seemed slightly too whingy so I didn't pop them up. I went on a mass delete of all the half started posts that went nowhere and found myself back to staring at a blank screen.

Arse.

Maybe I have to get my blogging mojo back on track? Making sure I actually put Fluff up on Friday, doing Spruikers Sunday on time...and then try to fill in the rest of the week before I can go to FYBF.

But I do have to say I am putting a massive THANK YOU out there to the following amazing people who have brightened my day...

Mrs Woog - Got the Cocktails at Naptime you sent and I may or may not have completely ignored my child while I bummed on the couch and read it cover to cover in a day. My stomach muscles thank you for the work out but my child may or may not be sending 'WTF have you done to my Mum!?' mail to you. But this will be up to your interpretation as it is simply crayon scribble...on the back of a Special K box. Maybe. 
Also, winning a copy of Corrine Grant's book was another highlight that my husband will have to work very hard to erase at Christmas.

The Husband - For accepting the 3 items listed on my Christmas wishlist...and recognising without having to ask that they are not negotiable, optional or solitary and that if all 3 are under the tree he might get sex.
Might.

The Toddler - For making the most of Mummy being silent. Sitting on benches and using the tea/coffee/sugar jars as Bob Marley bongo drums while I wash dishes. Reminding me I need to clean out cupboards by emptying them of their contents and then showing me proudly how everything in the pantry can cover the kitchen floor. By finding the cash register that speaks Spanish and is girlish-ly high pitched and LOUD and playing the one phrase over and over and over and over and OVER AGAIN (remind me to thank your grandparents for finding that for you...).
For making me look forward to the day when my voice returns and I can say 'confiscated' again in an audible tone over the voice of that Spanish biatch.

And for blatantly ignoring my pathetic attempts at miming responses to your questions and for not being scared when the miming causes the car to swerve.

So there you go - all caught up for a Tuesday afternoon.

Now to find something to crap on about for tomorrow.

The Annual Hyperventilation

Shopping is usually a joy - for me anyway. Not so much the Guru. He usually spends time lamenting the worn, sick looking state of our cards. Wearing the scratches from EFTPOS machines like badges of honour.

Personally, I think he should be grateful. If it weren't for me he would be fending off bats and moths in droves as they attempted to make his wallet their home.

Because bats and moths luuuurve dark places that are rarely disturbed.




Image found here

 
But this time of year has a tendancy to strike fear into my heart. I love shopping, I really do - but Christmas shopping is something that usually has me breathing into a brown paper bag, waving off paramedics in the middle of a shopping centre.

It starts about...well, now! It's November and this weekend I found myself stopping at random to break into a cold swseat at the thought of who we had to buy for and how long I had to get my shit together.

Because I never have long enough. There's never enough time. WHY DO I NOT GET REGULAR REMINDERS FROM SANTA ABOUT THE IMPENDING DOOM OF CHRISTMAS!?

We have a few additional people to shop for that live interstate this year and so I am shitting bricks about the ability of Australia Post to get parcels where they need to be in time. For some reason Darwin doesn't use planes. Even in this day and age Australia Post NT choose to use the timeless art of Carrier Pigeon.

This technique is wonderful, and I relish the thought of many medium, flightful birds carrying parcels everywhere - like Harry Potter, but in this case he's fallen on hard times and the Owl had to be traded for a rat of the sky.

But when it comes to relief for my panic attacks of Christmas, knowing the pigeon situation only makes it worse. Because I get the pigeons who are lost and confused...every year!!


Image found here

 So by all rights I should have shopped and shipped in January.  Dear Hindsight. Bite me. K, Thanks, Bye.

The next problem I encounter is simply making choices. I am the type of person who can't make a choice for herself. And it drives the Guru mad.

If we have take out night and there's a choice to be made, he knows to come to me, lounge cushion in hand and ask for my decision. But he knows I won't make the decision - the cushion will. Pattern side up is option 1, plain side up is option 2.

And before you say anything - why flip a coin when I have a great time flapping cushions around? Even the Toddler joins in now.

So standing in a store trying to choose A from B for someone, without the aid of an all-seeing, flipping cushion is painful. I just can't do it. I put it down to my internal fear that everything I do is wrong and I'll ruin someone's Christmas by getting them the wrong thing. Damn my brain!

So now, while I'm contemplating a lost and confused Carrier Pigeon carrying a Cabbage Patch Doll or a 'My First Kitchen' set to the other side of the country, the next issue comes in to blindside me.

Is it enough?

When do you know that what you've got for someone is enough? You never want to be cheap, but you don't want to have to sell your home just to get someone a gift.

We have a rule of we buy for children only, and I think that's fair. If the Guru and I choose to get eachother something, then that's wonderful - but it's really all about the kids.

But there is so much STUFF! And with my inability to choose between things it can lead to someone potentially getting a shop's worth of gear (hence why I'm never allowed to do this kind of thing alone!). I'm always so worried that we'll look cheap and crap if we don't get everyone the top of the line of everything, but I'm also keenly aware that our bank balance doesn't reach to those dizzying heights.

Oh to be due an inheritance from a long, lost relative...

But since that's not going to happen, I have to face my issues head on.

So how do you do it? How do you decide what is an appropriate amount to spend? And I am so not the type of person to be organised enough to think ahead, so I do need plans that I can use while flying by the seat of my pants.

Dear Santa (a.k.a The Husband)

Oh Christmas, you seem to last but a moment, and yet you roll around on the calendar as quickly as you left.

This leaves our bank account very sad.

And yet - each and every year I cannot help but create a list in my mind of those things I would love to find under the tree. Regardless of bank account status. Which I deliberately ignore.

It has come to my attention that I am forever blogging about things I would love to own - but I have decided to make a concerted effort at cutting out the shite and breaking it down to the items I would find vital to my life.

So, this year I am wishing for the following...

This bag from Kinies on Etsy...

Because it will fit my laptop and all the stuff I cart around for the Toddler, plus my own crap all in one stylish bag. And because it is 100% material I won't get so upset at having to throw it in the wash if milk spills through it. And this is an ADVANTAGE for you, darling, because you'll no longer have to spend sleepless nights wondering why I get so upset at having to wash my Guess Leather handbag after a cheese stick has been ground into the lining.
And in this bag, one pocket could contain...

Honestly, you thought I'd forgotten about it didn't you?

And lastly, in another pocket you could include...

Because this is also something you'd benefit from. Jumping into bed with a smooth, aero-dynamic, twin turbo wife will be a vast improvement from the stubbly, turbulent, two-stroke engine wife you have now.
Kind of like trading in a 1960's VW Beetle for a new Lambourghini. The old one might have been comfy, but the new one can get you there faster and you'll look hot when you arrive.

See, I've been very sensible for Christmas this year - Santa won't have to think about hitching a trailer to the sleigh.

Although, if he's going to anyway - he could include one of these...

But it's totally for the Toddler - I'll just babysit it until she's big enough to ride.

Love you! xox

Another post on obsession and lack of self control.

I am a jewellery whore.

There, I said it.

I can't walk past a jewellery shop without picking out a few pieces I would like to own. I drool over the glossy catalogues that get crammed into our letterbox. I am constantly finding jewellery I'd like to own.

The only thing I would never want more than one of is my bridal set. Because the Guru did an amazing job of sorting that out all on his own - and on days when I think he has no bloody idea who I am (like when he's pointing out items he thinks I'd like for my birthday...like a new 8TBFGRT RAM fdhsjaofdhsajkldshjakglds thingy for a computer...uh - what??) I look at my left hand and realise that when he gets it right, he does a fabulous job.

But when it comes to watches, bracelets, earrings, necklaces and anything else that takes my facy - I am just a downright, dirty jewellery-a-holic.

At the moment my whoring is related to necklaces. More specifically, the type the allow me to have parts of my family embedded in them.

No, I'm not meaning an Angelia Jolie-blood-in-a-vile-type thing. I'm talking fingerprints, or perhaps even art done by the Toddler.

I discovered Tina Steinberg not long ago and I immediately fell in love. I was prepared to sell a kidney to get one of her creations. And technically I still am - but I'm discovering that money is easier to procure and send to another country.

The one from Tina I was drooling over is here:  Little Love Charmer Plus by Tina Steinberg.

And I was stunned to learn that the Guru was paying attention. And I don't mean just vaguely nodding his head and staring past me at the telly while I danced in front of him with print outs, a white board and diagrams of exchange rates, postal rates and the process involved while wiping the rabid, jewellery love foam from my face.

So I almost fell on the floor when he told me he'd found a company who does the same thing in Australia. And they have a consultant in Darwin.

Right about then I blacked out for a moment while my brain processed this joyus moment and filed it away for future reference when he tries to get me computer parts for our wedding anniversary.

Smallprint could potentially make my dreams come true this Christmas. And believe it or not they can do impressions of a drawing by your small one in a pendant. You can witness their awesomeness here: Smallprint: A Unique First Impression.

Okay, so it's not a Tina Steinberg...but it's the homegrown version and I'd reduce my carbon footprint by going local. Or something. Whatever.

So I was set with that - all excited and spending many, many hours on their website deciding what and when.

Then - I found The Vintage Pearl. And my addicitive personality kicked in and fingerprints were all but forgotten for a moment...

The Vintage Pearl - I'd be leaving a massive carbon footprint - but the US and Australian dollar are pretty much 1:1. What's a bit of carbon when fate has given me a sign that now is the best financial time to be making a great, big, muddy print on the world?? I'd be stupid to miss my chance!! (I'm also completely aware that I'm going to environment hell when I die...a place where nature will have it's revenge...)

So this is what I want...

I love you to the moon & back by The Vintage Pearl and with the whimsical font have the Guru and the Toddler's names on it. And when the time comes I can have the third and final name added to the pendant.

Then, down the track - I can get a Tina Steinberg original to add to the chain.

The other Vintage Pearl option that I love is this: Dainty Drops by The Vintage Pearl.

But my heart is set on the moon - so I am making a final choice and it's going to be my Christmas wish.

I would say that this will be the end of my jewellery whoring...but I know it probably won't. There will always be a bracelet, a watch or something to catch my eye and make me want to get a kidney ready for trade.

But maybe, just maybe - this will be the end of my necklace searching days...

Friday Fluff

You know you've shopped well when your Husband AND your Dad have to work together to create a horse with realistic sound effects for the Toddler's first Christmas. My contribution was documenting the event in photo's.

My Plan for Jewellery and Cloth Nappy Happiness

So I've been trying to think of the best way to get everything...and by that I mean to be the proud owner of Tina Steinberg jewellery and modern cloth nappies.

And after some events this evening the following statements are what I've come up with.

1. When you've gone so long without a bikini wax that standing up from your desk means rogue hairs entwine themselves in the fabric of your knickers and tear themselves out - you know you should probably make an appointment.

Wait - who said that!?...................

.........!

The Factual Statements of Events This Evening that Lead Me to Believe that Christmas and Nappy Happiness Will All Work Out. (Or...'Sweet, I'm gonna get all that stuff!!)

1. Expecting your significant other to be excited about Christmas presents and ordering them online from a store in the US and having to use kits to get imprints of fingers etc is a completely unrealistic expectation and you will cancel Christmas and rent a room with the Grinch.

2. Tallying up the cost of point 1 and showing your significant other online how easy it is will mean that Christmas is back on and the Grinch needs to refund your bond.

3. Tallying up the cost of point 1 will mean you'll keep your cloth nappy costs to yourself. And suddenly edit the story to say 'Just going to get some nappies' and not correcting any assumptions that they are Huggies.

4. You will begin to receive packages in the mail...and your significant other will be joyous to be told that you've won a nappy contest and will be sent samples...to keep...

5. Claim ignorance about bank charges and credit card statements.

6. Tell the truth about the nappies AFTER your new fingerprint jewellery is safely around your neck...but standing far enough away to prevent any strangulation by said jewellery, facilitated by said significant other.

Providing I survive all of the above, it will be a lovely Christmas this year.


Ahhhhh - bring on December...

My Baby...Growing Up...Not Ready...(and Tina Steinberg)

So those who have been following Kelle Hampton's blog will know that she's discussed this awesome jewellery designer previously...Tina Steinberg.

Now, the Guru doesn't know it yet - but this is what I'm getting for Christmas from him and the Toddler. I want nothing else. It will fill me with so much love and awesome-ness to wear something so amazingly special that there could be nothing else.

Apparently there is a company opening up here in Darwin that will do hand and foot print jewellery - but for some reason fingerprints speak to me more. And we got a TwinkleToes done for the Toddler when she was 9 days old. I still look at her little hand and feet sculptures and think back to the tiny baby I held in my arms...it seems so long ago and yet at the same time it feels like yesterday.

Did I mention the Toddler is being moved up to the toddler's room at day care? As in, no longer in the babies room. It's official - she's growing up and there's zilch I can do about it. As much as I am excited for her to be with the 'big kids' it's a sign that the end of her babyhood has arrived well and truly. And I'm not sure I'm ready for it.

The sad thing is I've become attached to the Toddler's carers as much as she has - and I know it sounds completely dumb but I know I'll cry the first day she has to go with the toddlers. I'll miss catching up with Miss Kimmy and Miss Sherre (or as the Toddler calls her, 'Ree') at the end of the day. The bonus is Miss Clancy is moving to the Toddler's room with her and they are having a bonding week this week so it's not such a shock to the system.

Why is it so hard to accept that your baby just isn't a baby anymore? And I know full well that the pendant necklace I want for Christmas has everything to do with freezing a part of the Toddler in time so she's never completely grown up (at least, not in my mind). I'll always have a piece of her babyhood close to my heart.

Does it ever get easier? Or do you always have that small stabbing pain each time you realise they are just a little bit bigger then they were? That lump in your throat when you realise she's growing out of her clothes and you curse the day she started to wear 00's.

Does it get easier the second, third, fourth time around? You know what to expect...or does it simply mean when the last is toilet trained you start stalking new mothers in shopping centres and beg, beg, beg to hold, cuddle and breathe in that fresh, baby smell that is now gone from your growing youngsters. I don't reccommend the stalking thing...but if they're a friend then I'm sure it would be fine.

But my main point is - whether we have another baby or not, I want the Toddler to remain the same. Sometimes when she's fallen asleep on my lap in the big cushy armchair in her room I just watch her sleep, I wonder what she's dreaming about and if everyone speaks her baby (toddler) speak in her dreams. I just try to memorise every little thing about her at that moment because I know in a few days it won't be exactly the same as it was and she seems to change every second...

So to freeze frame a small part of my little baby Peanut I will ask for a pendant with her fingerprint. Her little fingerprint that will be a reminder for me that she always was and will be...my baby...