The Acidic Observer - The Home Edition

It'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.

Thankfully, that mistake is being rectified as of now. And my aim, this week? The Darwin Housing Market.

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.

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 ICHTHYS Project, but calling it the Itchy Project makes me feel better.

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!

Well, not me, anyway.

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.

I'm sorry, but when land is costing the same amount as the home we want to build, I kinda lose my shit.

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!

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!

Well, maybe not Gina - but you get the idea.

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.

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.

IT'S DARWIN! We don't have a single department store. Even Freedom Furniture abandoned us!

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.

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.

The housing situation is just one more tooth in the cog of 'what the fuck, Darwin!?'.

It's all so painfully typical, I have no idea why I even get shitty anymore.

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.

So overall, screw you Itchy, screw you Government and, today, screw you Darwin.

You are all on my shit list until further notice, Or I win the lottery.

Then I'm gonna move in next to Hugh.

The Friend Filter...

I always remember my Mum giving me advice on friendships. She was never outright critical of a situation, she would listen and then give her thoughts and let me deal with it as I wanted, but I knew full well she would be there to support me.

But how do you teach your 4 year old about good and bad friendships? How do you make them understand that there is a difference?

Miss 4 has developed a relationship with 4 of the 7 children that live next door. In the beginning, I didn't have a problem with it. She was thrilled to have some friends, close to the same age, that lived right over the fence. I was more than happy to have them over to play.

But in the last month or so I have noticed a shift in their attentions. At first I thought their constant requests to come over were cute and I was glad they had so much fun. But when I can't even go down my front steps to do a load of washing without them hanging off the fence, begging to be allowed to come over, it's a bit much.

I've noticed that Miss 4 has been coming inside, in tears, asking me why her friends can't come over. They just won't let up and they bug her to bug me about it. She becomes distressed and frustrated with me because no answer is good enough for them and, therefore, not good enough for her.

I couldn't work out where her special treats were going - I always have a little stash of chupa chups in the cupboard for a treat when we go to the park or just because I know she loves them. I couldn't work out how she was going through an 8 pack of fruit boxes in an afternoon, when we had just bought them.

When entire boxes of Barbecue shapes were gone, I decided to watch a bit more carefully. I was worried I had done something to make her think she couldn't be honest with me, so I was quietly observant.

Turns out the neighbour kids are using her as a food and beverage delivery service. She was sneaking food out of the house. She has never had to 'sneak' food EVER. Miss 4 knows that she can go to the cupboard or the fridge any time she likes if she's hungry or thirsty. There is always fruit and water on the go.

I'll admit, I know that Miss 4 and The JellyBean appear to have everything, and the kids were astonished at her toy collection. But she is only 1 of 2 children and our family is lucky enough to have the earning ability we do. The neighbours have 7 children and are both parents are on pensions. They also appear to have some serious 'substance and anger issues', but I won't go into that.

Fair enough, the kids think Miss 4 has it all and they want to have some too. If you are a guest in our home, then yes, I won't hesitate to make sure you have a snack and drinks as needed, but it makes me angry when they use Miss 4 as a portal to food and drink.

After I found out what was happening, I sat down with Miss 4 and tried to explain to her that good friends don't make us do the wrong thing for their own benefit. I tried to put it in perspective by asking her 'do K, C or A ask you to sneak food and drinks from the house?' When she said no, I went on to say that if her 'friends' were over to play, then yes they are welcome to a snack and drinks, but if they are at home then they should ask their Mummy or Daddy for a drink or something to eat. Miss 4 seemed satisfied with this, and promised not to sneak anything from the house anymore, and if her 'friends' asked her to do that, she would come and tell me right away.

In no time at all I was putting the kybosh on their relentless requests to Miss 4 to get them food and drinks. I told them no, that asking Miss 4 to sneak food was wrong and they had to go ask their parents because they were at home.

Their response was to completely shut out Miss 4, despite her standing at the fence calling to them. It broke my heart and I brought her inside to play games together and we did some painting. She cried and asked me why they didn't like her anymore.

The following day they started to talk to Miss 4 again, but the endless requests for food and drinks came back and when she said no, they ignored her again.

You're probably wondering why I don't just have them over to play. Fair question. My response is to say that the last time they came over turned into a nightmare when they started world war 3 over every single toy, broke toys when they didn't want to share (I'm thinking it's a 'if I can't have it, then no-one will' type response). When they got bored of that, they convinced Miss 4 to bring them the iPad and they played games on it and completely ignored her. 

When I walked them home after 5 hours, their front gate was locked and I had to wait until their Mum decided she was ready to have them back.

When she finally did come to pick them up, she gave me a glazed smile and slurred something about having been over 3 or 4 times to collect them but it sounded like they were having so much fun she didn't want to disturb them.

I might not have minded so much if it was the first time that happened, but it wasn't. And I was just outright pissed off with being used as a free babysitting service.

Issues with the parents aside, I didn't think I would have to be teaching my 4 year old to protect her little heart, so soon. To be honest, this isn't an issue I had even considered and now I'm not sure what to do. How do I give my little girl a 'friend filter'?

We have been thinking for a while about selling and moving. Part of that involves repairing the fence and it means the kids won't be able to communicate through it anymore. I feel horrible for saying this, but I'll be grateful when that happens - every time her little face falls because she refuses to do the wrong thing and they shun her, every time they send her up and down the stairs, repeatedly, to ask me if they can come over and I say no because they don't have any respect for Miss 4 or her belongings and she gets upset - all of it makes me want to scoop her up, lock the door behind us, hang a 'for sale' sign on the fence and drive away.

I do everything I can to make her realise that real friends don't treat you differently, depending on what you're prepared to do for them. We go on lots of playdates, we spend lots of time with family and friends and we spend lots of time together. I hate feeling like I can't let her play on her trampoline or just play with her dolls in the yard without the neighbour kids harassing her. I hate feeling like our own property isn't comfortable because they are ALWAYS THERE. Always wanting something from her.

There's probably no immediate solution to this, other than to continue doing what we're doing, and I hope that repairing the fence and eliminating the lack of privacy issue will go a long way to solving some of the problems.

I love my little girl so much and I want her to be as open, free spirited and heartfelt as she is for as long as she can, but I won't stand for that to be taken advantage of. I may be soft and fuzzy but, I'm still a mama bear and, you'll be feeling more than just regret if you mess with my little one.

But what about you Mama and Papa bears out there? Have you ever had to deal with something like this, so soon? Am I completely out of touch or are kids growing up a lot faster these days? I feel like this is something I should be talking to Miss 4 about in another decade.

For now, it all feels too soon and too much for such a little bear.

Yo Shorty - It's Your Birthday...

Although I prefer to think of myself as 'fun size'.

So, today, I am 29 years old. It doesn't feel like I've been on earth for 29 years - some days it feels like I've been here a shit load longer!

I keep thinking there should be some change in me, but I think this every year - that I suddenly become more mature, or that I should now be interested in watching the stock market and read poncy newspapers over coffee. But maybe that will come next year, when I hit 30?

On reflection, I think I've done okay with my time thus far. Sure, there are things that might be nice to 'do over', but what's the point in worrying about that? There's a reason our heads can't turn 180 degrees.

This year though, I've decided I'm going to be a bit 'louder'. I've always been very reserved, and so now I want to be more confident in who I am. I'm not going to pretend I do or don't like something just because someone else feels that way. I'm going to be honest about my opinions, make choices based on how I feel and what I think.

I'm going to try and stop worrying about the rest of the world and remember that it's ok to be me.

So, for starters, I want to do something with my hair. I've already lost the length - I had it chopped from just below my butt, to my shoulders, when Miss 4 was about 6 months old. It was liberating, even if I did feel bald for ages and continued to try and brush hair that wasn't there anymore.

I call it my 'phantom hair' stage.

That really only leaves colour and texture. So my curls will go on holiday for a short while, and goodbye to the brown/red colour I've been sporting for too long. I'm going to go for the change I've been wanting for a while...

Image via Google

Yep - red and black.

I know it's not exactly your typical 'mum style', but I'm trying to break out of the 'mummy mould' I've put myself in. Who says you can't be a kick-arse parent and rock some fab locks!? Look at Miss Pink from The Mummy Autobiography - completely proves my point.

I think I've been inspired to make a change by The Man. He's on a mission to become a toned champion of the 5am run and the 5pm workout. That kind of change is so far out of my spectrum I don't even know where to begin. I can support him and make sure his workout clothes are clean, but me and my peanut M&M's will be observing from the couch.

When I die, I'll know immediately if I've gone to hell. The room will be filled with clowns and their pet spiders on exercise equipment.

I have made a promise to myself that I would try and tone up a bit, but by the time I've run up and down the front stairs a few hundred times with loads of laundry, bags of rubbish and/or a baby, cleaned the house and been on the trampoline with Miss 4, I figure I've done more than enough exercise and it didn't involve any of the equipment that features in my nightmares.

This year will be a year of experimentation and, hopefully, success. I've already navigated the process of giving birth in a car, sending Miss 4 to pre-school and resisting the urge to constantly buy cute clothes for both my girls - changing my hairstyle will be easy as! Especially when you consider that it'll be a child free experience, plus head massages, massage chairs and coffee on demand involved in the lengthy process.

And best of all - someone else has to clean up after ME!

You never know, maybe I'll take some peanut M&M's with me and make it a truly indulgent day...

Growing Pains...

For some inexplicable reason I thought parenting would get easier as my child got older.

I mean, it sounded logical at the time. Babies can't communicate so it can be tough to identify their needs. As they grow, they learn to speak and this cuts down on the time it takes to address an issue and everyone is a lot calmer.

I'll admit that I'm feeling a bit out of my depth with a 4yo. She is so very outspoken, so very playful, so very sulky and so very territorial.

Some days I just don't know where to start - usually because Miss 4 has rolled out of bed with a scowl on her face and I can tell that the day ahead is going to be a challenge that only peanut M&M's will cure. For me, anyway.

I try so hard not to get exasperated with her behaviour when it's not up to scratch. I always kneel eye to eye and keep my voice quiet and calm when she's starting a 'hissy-fit' over something trivial, I always try to diffuse the situation rather than feed into it. I like the idea of having a conversation with her about what she's feeling and why rather than flying off the handle.

Some days this works fine - and other days I might as well be talking to my pillow.

My Mummy friends compare me to a My Little Pony character...Fluttershy...




Family refer to me as a push over. I've been told I'm too soft, and I'll be honest, Miss 4 totally knows it.

I just don't like raising my voice - I don't even like calling out in a crowd to get someone's attention.  It feels abrupt and agressive.

Last week she completely lost it while out and about, after a day of trying moods and constant attempts to 'talk it out'. I knelt down to meet her blue eyes and was determined to deal with this quickly. I did - but the tone that escaped from my lips was a new one. It was most definitely 'straight-forward'. I didn't yell, I didn't intimidate, I didn't humiliate - but it most certainly wasn't the voice I was familiar with.

Somehow my brain switched a gear...

I put my Mummy Pants on...

I found 'The Voice'!!

And just like that Miss 4 stopped the tanty, and listened to what I said.

I don't like to say I was 'assertive', because I always think people use the word 'assertive' to excuse their 'agressive' behaviour. In my book it's the same thing, but one word has been made more politically correct and Human Resources friendly so bullying can still continue when it's convenient.

But that's a whole other issue for another day!

I still came down to meet Miss 4's eyes, I still didn't raise my voice, I was still calm and quiet. But the tone of my voice was different - it was lower, it was stronger and it meant business. Miss 4 looked confused initially, as though she didn't know who she was looking at, but that gave way to acceptance very quickly - she realised I wasn't fluffing around.

I'm not even sure I can describe it  - but when I think back I always think of Barry White.

But, you know, girly.

I keep forgetting that while Miss 4 is learning every day, so am I. I need to accept that this parenting gig is dynamic and always changing - just because I have a handle on it one day doesn't mean that I'll have it all under control the next day. And a bad day doesn't mean I've failed. It means I'm human.

I've pulled my 'Barry White Move' when necessary and it's been quite effective - sometimes Barry has to come back for a repeat performance - and a week on from finding my best move, the need for it is lessening. For that I am grateful. It means I can keep my marshmallow exterior, but I have a chewy caramel centre now - not too hard and not too soft.

Just right for Miss 4 and me.

February Photo A Day Challenge: Day 23...

Day 23

|My Shoes|

Are never on my feet and live under my desk. It's pretty standard in our office - most people wander around in bare feet unless we have a meeting and then we put them on...but only because we have to.

Yep - we're all class, baby.

It makes me laugh how blasé I am about shoes now. When I lived in Adelaide I was a shoe whore, and I had over 100 pairs all in their original boxes with tissue paper. I even had a photo on the outside of each box so I could see which ones were which at a glance.

These days I have 2 'vital' pairs. My Havaiana thongs and the shoes in the picture which I wear to work. If I don't wear my thongs.

A part of me does miss those days when I would teeter around in ridiculously high shoes that would kill my feet - beauty was pain and all that mattered was that I looked good. BandAid made a LOT of money out of me back then.

But I think, overall, I'm much happier keeping things casual. It's more my style.

Want to play along? Visit www.fatmumslim.com.au for all the details

Dear Me...on a FFS Friday...

Dear Me,

Well, today has just turned out to be a winner, hasn't it? In terms of a FFS Friday, it's right up there. But mostly you brought it on yourself. Maybe that's why it stings??

Let's review the facts for this morning, shall we?  It started to go downhill when Miss 3 went into a dramatic moment over a pair of socks that she didn't want to wear. No biggie, you said she could find the socks she wanted and you'd put them on for her.

After she got off the naughty spot for screaming in your face about not wanting to wear the socks you'd picked.

Then she couldn't find her blueberries. And so she went into full meltdown. And continued for a full 40 minutes.

Yeah - not her finest hour, and certainly not yours either, judging by the result.

Okay, so she was carrying on like a pork chop in the driveway as you put her carseat back in the car. So what? Are you worried the palm trees are going to judge your parenting skills? They're too busy dropping fronds the size of the Titanic on your lawn and sprouting berries that attract bats to shit everywhere. They have their own way of pissing you off, they don't give a shit about tantrums!

Yes, the carseat was being a prick as usual, it was hot and you were running late. Well, when you have a child, live in the NT and snooze the alarm for 2 hours, this is what happens. Take a cement pill and harden the fuck up, princess.

Okay, she didn't want to eat her breakfast. At least, not the breakfast you had for her. But let's be honest, she was crabby because she wanted left over's from dinner and you had just finished feeding said left over's to the chickens. It's most likely a parenting win that you didn't open the coop and read a book while Miss 3 had left overs with Stewie and Ice-Cream.

Okay, she kept screaming and gaining volume and pitch and didn't want to get in the car. To be honest, neither did you. And she didn't manage to blow out the windows on the car, so what's the problem?

Yes, driving along with a banshee in the backseat isn't fun. But turning around and yelling 'ENOUGH' at her isn't going to solve anything. And you knew that, otherwise you wouldn't have cried.

Remember that look on her face...yeah, the same look used to be on your face as a child. Why would you do that to your daughter? You remember how it felt...why would you repeat that?

Miss 3 is exactly that...3. And she needs you to love her and guide her. Learn from this, remember this and think about it the next time you feel close to losing the plot. She watches you and gains her understanding of how to approach situations through the actions you take and reactions you have.

When you pick her up this afternoon, apologise for yelling. Talk with her and go over the events of this morning. Find out why she felt frustrated and upset so you can help her the next time it happens. Explain to her how you felt and make sure she understands as best she can.

You can't take it back - it's out in the universe now - but you can show your daughter that when we make a mistake, being honest and open about it is the only way to move forward.

And FFS, stop snoozing the alarm - or else I'll make you put an ice pick through it. Whomever invented the snooze button obviously never met you...

Now, don't make me have to talk to you again, it's embarrassing.

Cheers & Beers,
Your Brain.



  

The Happiest Place on Earth - A Birthday Party in Pictures...

21 January 2012, somewhere in the Northern Territory, 2 little girls celebrated their 3rd year of life with their friends and family...

The biggest birthday cake ever...

Complete with goodie bags...

It was a Mickey Mouse Club House themed extravaganza with enough food and cake to feed an army...and a third of our fridge now contains half of this cake...

Miss 3 and her pass the parcel...

More pass the parcel fun...

Pass the parcel was played after some swimming - Birthday girl parents plied guests with as much food as humanly possible...and then provided some more...

Singing Happy Birthday for the 2 Birthday Girls!

Naturally, following overwhelming amounts of food, cake must be served!  We sang and blew out candles to celebrate 2 little girls...and braved the water for some indigestion-busting pool time...

Swimming...we swam for approx. 85% of the time.

2 Birthday girls having fun in the pool.

And at the end of it all 2 little girls fell asleep...and 4 parents collapsed in a heap...but not before this Mummy realised that next year it's all our turn...

2 Birthday Girls on their special day, in their favourite place...

Next year the cake will obviously have to have it's own postcode.

Happy Birthday...

Well, the day is here - and the Toddler is no longer a Toddler.

She's now Miss E, who now is 3.

Heh, I'm a poet and I didn't know it.

Yeah, I'll stop now.

To our precious little girl with the bigger than life attitude, I hope you have a wonderful day. You are now 3...going on 30. And while this morning wasn't the birthday morning of joy I had hoped for, it has made me realise that you certainly are no longer a baby and I will have to accept that.

Can I just say that the arrival of your 3yo attitude, this morning, was a bit over the top? Feel free to keep that under your bed...and not bring it out. Ever.

But wild moods aside, I'm really looking forward to tonight when we get your special cake from The Cheesecake Factory, light 3 candles on top and sing to you. You love singing and blowing out candles - so you're lucky to have been born to parents who are happy to ignore their own tone-deaf attempts at 'singing' and like to have candles in the house.

Your party on Saturday should be a blast - a Mickey Mouse Club House themed joint party with your friend, K. We've done joint parties since you were both 2 - you're only 4 days apart anyway. This year it was K's turn to choose the theme, and luckily you've discovered the Disney Junior channel and have embraced Mickey Mouse Club House with gusto. You like to be Minnie Mouse, but she hangs out at the Club House, so it's all good.

Mummy and Aunty T spent a lot of time hand making the invites again this year. And we're quite proud of them actually. I've kept one to add to your scrapbook of memories so you can look back and shake your head at the rediculous amount of time spent creating invites.

And we'll keep doing crazy stuff like this until you beg us to stop...

I hope you and your friends at daycare like the cake I made. It wasn't burnt and I only had to use sprinkles to cover one layer of failed iced writing. The Happy 3rd Birthday looked more like 'Hipot 3lg Blrytfgot' so I just covered it and tried again. Still wasn't great, but at least you could tell what it said.

By the time you're 15 I might be able to produce something you won't want to throw under a passing bus. I hope.

But that's why we always get yummy Cheesecake Shop cake for home. That and the fact that your poor Daddy can't eat any more bad food cake. His stomach probably has ulcers on ulcers.

This makes daycare my only testing platform, and that could be regarded as human experimentation, but I have no choice as mice won't go near my cooking.

So  'Hipot 3lg Blrytfgot' special girl - may you have a wonderful day and develop better skills in the kitchen that your Mummy.

Love always and forever,

Mummy and Daddy
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Disorganised. It's a way of life...

The Toddler turns 3 tomorrow. I suppose that means I have to officially stop calling her The Toddler. So Miss E shall be her new alias.

But not until 2:56pm tomorrow.

I may or may not be coping with her turning 3. I don't want to stop her growing up, but I do want to stop time occasionally, just so I can catch my breath. Time moves so quickly, and this last 12 months has gone especially swiftly in our household.

Which is one reason I like to think I am always so disorganised. Events creep up on me and then leap out of my diary, screaming 'SURPRISE!!'

I am fully aware that birthdays, anniversaries and Christmas all have their standard days in the year. I know that The Toddler's birthday is on the same day in January every year. The Office of Births, Deaths and Marriages does not send out random text messages saying 'Congrats! This year we have determined that tomorrow will be the 2012 birthday of your child!'

And yet, here I am on January 18 - and I still haven't made the cake for daycare (although if last year was anything to go by, that could be a blessing. Toilet duck flavour, anyone?), finished birthday shopping or anything.

I am just as disorganised at Christmas, with The Guru's birthday, our wedding anniversary...it's a gift being this scatter-brained.

So tonight I'll be picking up a packet cake from Coles (again, the Toilet Duck cake still haunts me...and The Guru's taste buds. They've never fully recovered.) and running into Target for a few last minute gift ideas. I don't know what those ideas are - it all depends on what Target has available.

So wish me luck, and pray that packet cakes don't require me to add Baking powder/Soda or any variation.

Bringing Back the Om...

Well, it's been 15 days since I last posted. 7 of those days were self inflicted 'technological blackout' days.

I got back from my final work trip and decided I'd had enough of the outside world and wanted to focus closer to home.

So the iPhone was off, the computer was off and I made room in my head for...nothing.

Nothing but books, hide-and-seek, swimming, laughing, sleeping, cuddles, baking, painting and plaiting blonde ringlets.

I loved every second.

And while the Toddler slept, I cleaned. More of our home ended up on the kerb for the cyclone season hard-rubbish pick up, than any other house on the street.

The house feels open, calmer, cleaner and simpler. And so does my head.

Sure, I totally should have gone to work. But pulling myself away from there, pulling the Toddler out of daycare for the week and just having family time was worth every second spent catching up on hundreds of emails.

And the most important thing I learnt? Work and the world won't fall apart just because I make time for myself. One day I'm sure I'll remember that, without having to drive myself into exhaustion first.

I've been enjoying drafting plans for changes we'll be making to the house. Progress hasn't been and won't be as fast as I'd like, but I need to learn to slow down. I am very 'now, now, now' in everything I do. I don't like suspense. If something is going to happen, just make it happen already.

I'm going to try and learn to enjoy the journey, rather than focusing on the destination and letting everything fly past me as I rush to get there. Wherever 'there' is.

I have taken 3 days to paint one new door for our home. We are going for high gloss black, and instead of slapping on the thickest coat possible and rushing the job, I'm taking it easy. Doing one coat at a time and layering until the sheen is so brilliant and perfect it looks like acrylic.

I'm doing one door at a time. I'm not worrying about invisible deadlines which I set for myself and aren't actually necessary or even applicable. I'm not in a race with myself.

And the Toddler is helping me. I'm not thinking about final finishes - I'm focusing on the fact that she will be able to tell everyone that she helped paint the entry to our family home. Because she is what makes us a family.

I'm trying to stop worrying about the things I can't change. Trying to stop letting things beyond my control hurt me or anger me. It's a challenge - and some days it just doesn't happen. Which is fine, because tomorrow is another day.

Insurance companies will allways set my teeth on edge, and I have chipped my front tooth again with all the teeth grinding I've been doing over unresolved claims.

Our dentist will dedicate the new wing of his mansion to our family. Since we funded it.

But I need to let it go. I need to let it all go. Being angry and upset forever will not change the past. It's pointless and it's not who I want to be.

So we will move forward. We will create a new family heirloom. We'll bring the past to meet the future and know that we did all we could have done. We're not forgetting what came before us, and we're not losing sight of all we have ahead of us.

The journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step ~ Lao Tzu

A baby no more...

My baby gew up last night. For me it was sudden and freakishly unexpected. For the Guru is was about as unexpected as his fortnightly pay.

We no longer have a cot in the Toddlers room - she got her big girl bed. Father Christmas was a bit early, but we explained that he thought she had been so good as to deserve it a bit early. She didn't need to know anything about the Guru and I staring at the boxes and not knowing where the hell to put them until Christmas, let alone how on earth to fit a bed and a mattress under a tree.

I documented this transformation with my camera as the event was so massive (in my head) and so I will share it with you all...

The Toddler's cot, pre-massacre

Her room in baby mode

He couldn't wait for me to get one more picture of her room before he got the screwdriver stuck in!



While the Guru works, the Toddler plays




Ah, this is my favourite - it was right about here that he yelled at me for bending the cot base in the wrong direction and almost breaking it. It was also about here that he almost had a cot base shoved where only customs men dare to probe.



The Toddler's contribution to the carnage

The cot, all packed up - my baby has finally left the building.

The beginning of a new era in our household

I don't know what's going on here, I just know there's mess.



He knows how it goes together...



Oh, sorry - were you taking a picture?

Bed? Check. Mattress? Check. Mattress cover to protect the mattress's pristine white beauty from all things excreted from small children? Damn right!!

The finished product

Jumping on the finished product



A new and grown up view from the doorway...the change table will be dismantled today and her new curtains will go up





A big girl, her bed and her Daddy

  So there you have it - a pictorial post on my baby's transformation to big girl.

But not too big - she still wants Mummy Bedtime cuddles in the big armchair to fall asleep.

Yesterday...

So I'm sitting in my office at the moment with a sick toddler asleep in my lap. Waiting for her sick Daddy to come and fetch her, because she has a high temp and day care called me to come and pick her up.

Today was day 1 of official Toddler Room day care. Not Nursery Room, not baby...Toddler.

I sat in the car and cried for 10 minutes after I dropped her off. And then once I was calm enough to drive, I made it to work and then proceeded to call the Guru and cry down the phone to him. For another 10 minutes.

I then finished that and decided that while I was feeling miserable I should call and make an appointment with my GP to have my pap smear done. Why wait for another day to make that call and have something else as equally unpleasant as having your only child grow up, to look forward to.

I know - I had a sook about this a while ago. But I'm sooking again. Why? Because it's my blog and you can just sit there and read it dammitt, I have to sook about it because now I've stopped myself from shopping the pain away and I know that all of you out there don't mind if I have a 'moment'.

And now the moment is over. Because I had to go and get her - and toddler or not, when she saw me in the doorway at day care she ran to me and snuffled into my neck and said 'Mummy, warm, earring hurt'. Of course she means 'Mummy, I feel hot and yukky and my ear hurts', but I'm her Mummy and I know exactly what she means. As did everyone at day care - hence why they called me.

And so we sat for a moment, cuddled together while everyone else around us got ready for nap time. Then we headed off to the GP, got checked out, got a sick certificate and headed back here to wait for the Guru.

And that brings me here. Sitting, typing, staring at my cold cup of coffee and wondering what I'll be going home to. Hopefully just 2 sleeping bodies in a king size bed. And maybe they'll keep sleeping and I could have dinner...on my own...eating at my own pace...calmly...and not needing to have 2 heartburn tablets afterwards because I've inhaled my food rather than chew it.

It's a possibility - no matter how slim.

But the entire toddler thing has got me to thinking. I know, a dangerous thing to be doing when you're me. Regardless, the old brain is ticking over...and for once the wheel's turning, but the Hamster's not dead - it's pounding the pavement (wheel) and working hard to get things moving.

So my thought is: while I'm having my pap (well, once that's over actually, I don't think I'll worry about having a conversation while someone is digging around 'down there') I'll be having a chat to my GP about this whole 'giving it a damn good go and still no baby' issue. Because I think it's time. 9 months is a long time. For us.

And I long for our last bub...the final link in our family chain.

The Legend of the Great Dummy Extraction (and applicable sunburn)

Friday, 10 September 2010

It has begun. We have travelled to the shopping centre to gather supplies for tonight's fearful task. The Guru almost bailed on me in the car on the way. Saying he wasn't expecting the task to be started tonight. I huffed and puffed about being abandoned and left to do it on my own. He backpeddled and said I misunderstood. Whatever.

With the items in hand we head home. After we treat ourselves to some food court dinner. No point in trying to cook and be a terrible mother all in one night. Besides, the tenision and fear in anticipation of what the evening might bring is making my hands shake so badly my burger is being showered all over my lap. Shaking hands and trying to cook something at home will only end in tears. Mine.

So we got home in one piece...bath time is done as normal and everyone is enjoying themselves. During this time the dummies are collected. Including the secret stash we discovered under her mattress...just out of eye shot but within sneaky toddler reach.

We discuss further how the baby faeries need the dummies and that they will leave something special to say thank you. We put the bag on the table and say bye bye to the dummies. No tears, begging or anything yet. It's going well.

Bed time. We read eighty two million books. The Toddler can sense our fear. She's milking it. We're not stopping it. We continue reading until finally she's dozed off to the sound of her Daddy's voice and my hand gently stroking her hair.

We pick her up and place her in bed. Kiss her goodnight, make sure she's comfortable and head out. There's nothing....just silence.

Oh my god. It that it!? Seriously... What was I afraid of!? That was so EASY!

And then the silence is shattered by the call over the monitor..."Mummeeeeeeee....sob.....Dummmmeeeeeee" followed by all sorts of howling and wailing and calling. I re-enter the room many, many times, pick her up, rock her, try to soothe her.

Total. Mothering. Fail.

After 2 hours and a final desperate call to my Mum asking for moral support and some words of wisdom for us, a plan is made. The Guru runs to the bag on the table and retireves a dummy. I think he could have outrun the flash. But screaming children will do that to you.

We re-enter the doomsday cave Toddler's bedroom, and insert dummy into awaiting toddler mouth. With some Mummy cuddles the Toddler is asleep in seconds.

But once she is asleep and has spat out the dummy, we take it back.

10pm - All is well in our household. And Panadol is making a fortune out of the 2 of us.

Upon the silence I can only assume our neighbours decide against calling child services. They never showed up despite my paranoia. Cheers.

Saturday, 11 September 2010

The day starts bright with no dummies in sight. the Toddler is THRILLED with all the goodies left by the Faeries as a thank you. The Faeries may have gone overboard on the presents and the faerie dust the previous night...but the big girl faerie didn't care, it was just the silly big boy faerie who cried about possible glittery dust going everywhere. And getting on everything. And making boy clothes appear very cabaret-ish. Pffffft - boys.

We anticipate the challenge of a day time nap without a dummy. But have last night's plan ready for action if hysteria comes a'calling.

Nap time arrives...well, sneaks up on us. Happy toddler has gone and Demon toddler has arrived. With dark circles under her eyes and a wild look about her.

This could be bad on so many levels.

The bedroom is entered and we sit in her armchair and read stories. No dummies have been mentioned. By any of us.

It comes time for the sleeping part of the day. A slight whimper erupts from the Toddler's lips and I see the Guru flinch to stop himself from diving for the dummy he has stashed in his pocket...just in case...

Whimpering dies down and Mummy cuddles are requested and given. Steady breathing and snuffling sounds indicate the Toddler has dozed off. She is gently placed in her cot and we depart. Dummy still in the Guru's pocket.

I stand outside her door....waiting for the eventual cries over the monitor.

Silence....and more silence....and it continues. I assume now our neighbours have taken child services off their speed dial list. Again, thanks for that.

Fast Forward to Bed Time...

There is much discussion with the Toddler about how the faeries came and took her dummies. And the Baby Faeries now have them and love them. This discussion is started and ended at the Toddlers insistence.

We head to bed...stories are read...tickles given and more Mummy cuddles are administered. But we go to our cot awake and aware. And we say goodnight to Mummy and Daddy and roll over and close our eyes.

The Guru and I depart....we listen....we hear small chattering over the monitor..."baby faeries have dummies...close eyes...(yawn)...nye nye faeries...faerie cuddles..." and from there we had contented sleeping sounds.

Sunday 12 September 2010

Day 2 of dummy freedom. We head to the water park for a play date with friends, both big and small.

It's wonderful, watery, cool, breezy, fun day and we close it off by another visit to the shopping centre (because I have more money to spend...the Guru begs to differ but...pfffft, boys).

The Toddler has an afternoon nap and we chill out for a bit. All 3 of us head outside after naps and a late lunch/snack are complete and we clean the pool and do some tree hacking and laundry.

The afternoon as also uncovered a small side effect of the morning's watery activities. For the Guru and I at least.

While the Toddler was decked out in her sun smart everything and almost no patch of her skin was visible to sunlight and the patches that were visible were smothered in enough sunscreen to repair the hole in the Ozone layer, the Guru and I just....well....weren't. We paddled and frolicked and did everything...but without the slightest hint of sunscreen or even a hat.

Welcome to the world of Bitchin' Sunburn. We hope you enjoy your next week slthered in Aloe Vera After Sun Gel and crap sleep due to no comfortable sleeping positions being available.

You would think we'd learn. That we would remember the 2 days of our honeymoon spent in our hotel suite slathered in this green gel of death. That in sunscreening the Toddler we'd just pop some on ourselves.

Nope. Nothing. Nada.

Idiots.

And I will continue to curse the hole in the Ozone layer as I spray my aerosol's around, drive my car, use disposable nappies and put recyclable materials in the rubbish bin...right next to the bigger, less smelly recycling bin.

Maybe one day I'll learn...when they make sun smart swim wear for adults that doesn't make me look like I'm wearing a giant condom. That's unflattering. And when I say unflattering, I mean BESIDES the fact that I look like I'm wearing a condom. Because a condom is fine...but when it makes you look like your arse is actually 2 bull dogs in a burlap sack fighting eachother for space, well, that's just a whole new level of unflattering.

But I digress...

After everything it turns out the dummy wasn't the Mount Everest of Weaning I had thought it would be. And without being smug, I am eternally grateful that we appear to have a very accepting daughter who was ready to say goodbye to her dummies. The result would have been very different if we'd approached this at a bad time or if she wasn't ready. And we know that.

But to the Universe...and the baby faeires who made all of this possible...I thank you. It could have been truly terrible, but we remain with our family and our sanity intact.

Now if only I could find a comfy patch of un-seared skin to sleep on...

The Great Dummy Extraction

So tonight is the beginning of no dummies. That's right, NO dummies. The Toddler has them for sleeping and as a general comfort item...but I think it's time for them to finish up.

I certainly won't be winning any 'Best Mummy' awards tonight, and the Toddler may or may not smother me with my pillow during the night in a terrible act of revenge.

But the Guru and I have discussed it and we think it's best to get it out of the way now.

I realise that yesterday I was mourning the loss of my baby...but for some reason I don't associate dummies with the Toddler being a baby or not. The dummy is just a dummy and it started out as a way for me to get some peace as the Toddler was a comfort sucker. And my boobs just weren't up to the task. Now I look at them and all I can see it a giant plastic thing that blocks her beautiful face from the world. And makes her sound like Maggie Simpson.

Thanks Google and BuddyTV.com

So they're going. Tonight. No if's and's or but's.

I'm going to do a dummy hunt with the Toddler and collect all her dummies and put them in a pretty bag. I've been explaining to her for the last couple of weeks that the new babies in the world would like to have dummies of their own, and they would be very grateful if she would donate hers. So we will place them in the bag for the babies of the world.

And during the night, the faeries will come and collect the dummies to give out to the babies, and they will leave her a special present to say thank you and to remind her that she is a very generous and loving person to give up something to important to her for the new babies.

Yes, it may sound silly and over the top - but I want it to be as positive as possible for her. I know there will be tears and requests glaore and a string of sleepless nights. But it's worth it in the long term.

So dummies - gather your things and make sure your passports are valid - because you're going on a long trip and won't be coming back.

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...