Open Mic Night...

I am not a public speaker.

It's one of those fears that I've not conquered and have no plans to do so. It's so bad, I think my worst nightmare would be waking up to find I got a job as a public speaking clown. I would scare the shit out of myself.

In high-school I would use every excuse in the book to avoid having to do presentations. I couldn't even face standing up in front of the family and friends at our wedding to say thank you - I went to all 110 individually.

Gratefully, this open mic is fictional and in Eden's head. Although I still don't want to be standing up in there, in front of all her brain cells. So hopefully she'll let me hide amongst the crowd while she plays this for them...

'The Sweetest Thing' - U2

My love throws me like a rubber ball

Oh oh oh, the sweetest thing

She won't catch me or break my fall

Oh oh oh, the sweetest thing

Baby's got blue skies up ahead

But in this I'm a rain cloud

You know she likes a dry kind of love

Oh oh oh, the sweetest thing

I'm losing you

I'm losing you yeah

Ain't love the sweetest thing

I wanted to run but she made me crawl

Oh oh oh, the sweetest thing

Eternal fire, she turned me to straw

Oh oh oh, the sweetest thing

You know I got black eyes

But they burn so brightly for her

This is a blind kind of love

Oh oh oh, the sweetest thing

I'm losing you

Oh oh oh, I'm losing you

Ain't love the sweetest thing

Blue-eyed boy meets a brown-eyed girl

Oh oh oh, the sweetest thing

You can sew it up but you still see the tear

Oh oh oh, the sweetest thing

Baby's got blue skies up ahead

But in this I'm a rain cloud

Ours is a stormy kind of love

I love this song - it was the first song I heard shortly after Miss 3 was born, which was ironic considering I had wanted it playing in the room while I birthed her, but I forgot the CD at home. I always look at it as a sign that both Nanna's knew she had arrived.
Bono wrote this song after he forgot his wife's birthday while they were recording 'The Joshua Tree' - and because this post is late and it's a belated 'Happy Birthday' to Eden, it seemed only appropriate.

It's All Good...

It's the end of the day. The sun is falling lower and lower in the sky, which turns orange and pink. It's been a hot day and a breeze gently pushes me forward.

It carries with it the smell of freshly cut grass, warm air and the low moan of a lawn mower a few streets away.

The smell, the warmth and the sound. That's how I know everything is all good.

It reminds me of hanging out with friends after school. It reminds me of lazy summer weekends when I was younger. It reminds me of a simpler time in my life, when bills and money and work were irrelevant. They were a million miles away in the future, and my biggest worry at that moment was that we wouldn't make it to the beach before dark.

I like to think that Big Nanna (she was tall), Little Nanna (she was shorter than Big Nanna) and Uncle Bob (my Great Uncle and Little Nanna's brother) are sitting together, hanging out and can see when I need a good breeze to come past. 

Because it always does.

And it makes my soul happy.

Fresh Horses Brigade: Bloggers

It's week 3. WEEK 3! The last time I felt this surprised over time passing was in the sleep-deprived haze of new parenthood.

"She's 3 weeks old. 3 WEEKS OLD! And its been that long since I slept 2 minutes together... [insert hysterical sobbing]"

Thankfully I don't feel that way about this.

So this week Eden is asking us "...Tell me why we do it? Who are your favourites...? Who resonates with you?..."

I'm not entirely sure why I blog. As an outlet when family drive me completely INSANE and if I don't get it out on a blog then I'll be serving them arsenic in their coffee? A modern way of keeping a diary? To try and not feel alone on those shite days where mothering feels anything but wonderful?

It's for all of those reasons, and more. And not all of them I can put into words.

In terms of a tribe - well, I'm a mummy blogger and other mummy's journeys appeal to me, usually because we all agree we need something to do whilst our children are watching TV.

I'm also a working mummy with the applicable 'working mother's guilt' attached comfortably to my back as a hunch. And anyone will tell you that it's nice to know you're not the only hunchback out there.

And so, to my top 5!

1. Tam from Madomi. Her blog, sadly, is no more because some chump(s) made her feel bad and so she closed it down. Tam is bright, creative and one hell of a writer. Her girls are our god-daughters, and since they moved away to QLD without me, her blog was the next best way to see what was happening, short of following them and moving in next door. We could chat all day long, but the photo's she posts helps us feel like we still live in the same state. You can totally stalk her on Twitter. I suggest you do - our god-daughters are DIVINE!

2. Kelle from Enjoying The Small Things. I got a link to Kelle's blog at work, because someone had read her post on the birth of her second daughter, Nella. Kelle is honest, open and the way she is with her 2 girls makes me want to be a better Mum and take more photos. She's the Mum I always dreamed I'd be when I was 10. It's a shame reality had to come in and burst the bubble with all its 'you have to pay the bills because you need electricity, water and a home when you have a baby' talk. Pfft.

3. Holly at Good Golly Miss Holly! Not only do we share the same birthday, her blog makes me laugh out loud. She is my blogger kindred spirit in a way (not that she knows that...don't tell her, okay? It might get weird...) because sometimes the things she writes are the same thoughts travelling through my head. She makes me feel a little less crazy, every day.

4. Ali at Hyperbole and a Half. All I can say is if you read, make sure you're wearing a reliable adult nappy. ESPECIALLY if you've had a baby. Kegel exercises won't help you here.

5. Eden at Edenland. Just because.

There's really so many more, which is obvious because my reader is always full of updates from so many different people and I love reading ideas, thoughts and realities from all walks of life.
You never know what difference your words are making to someone in that moment they read them - it could just be the message they were looking for.

And, maybe, that's the whole point.

FFS Friday...

Ah, another FFS Friday. Given it was my Birthday and Valentines Day this week, I really didn't think I'd be pulling out a FFS post.

And yet, here I am. But I swear on all the Marian Keyes books I own that this will be the last whinge about the biggest husband fail in my married life, so far.

Let's get cracking shall we??

• The Guru forgot my Birthday - FFS
• It was almost lunch time before he thought to tell Miss 3 it was my Birthday and to give me a cuddle - FFS
• He went to get a haircut on my birthday (fair enough - I really wanted him to) and took Miss 3 for the ride. He said he couldn't get a cake while he was out because Miss 3 needed to go to the loo and interrupted his shopping mojo. But he came home with his Iced Coffee - FFS
• The Guru called me at 3:10pm on Valentines Day to tell me that Interflora had called him to say they couldn't fit his order in - FFS
• WHO ORDERS FLOWERS ON VALENTINES DAY!? - FFS
• He then tells me he told them not to worry about it and he'd bring flowers home from 'somewhere' (read: wilted leftovers from Coles) - FFS
• He gets home with NOTHING - FFS
• He tells me he couldn't find a florist that was still open, but I passed 3 on the highway that were open late for husbands like him - FFS
• Getting recognition for 7 years valuable and dedicated service at work (not too sure about the valuable or the dedicated part...) at the Staff Meeting on Valentine's Day meant they had done more for me than my own husband this week - FFS

Right, so that's it now, no more talking about it.

This week is officially done and can I just say - thank fuck for that.




  

Happy Valentines Day with #GlowsValentines...

Well, it looks like this is a top week for Glowless to encourage us to take Valentines Day into our own hands.

The Guru - well, he totally failed my Birthday on Sunday. Read: no card, no pressie, no nothing. I did all the housework and the washing, made dinner etc. Like it was any standard Sunday.

I think it was about lunch time before he thought to ask Miss 3 if she had given me a birthday kiss and cuddle.

My Mum took pity on him and brought me a card, written from Miss 3, with some massage vouchers inside.

He apologised endlessly and would help me peg out a few shirts to dry. He would look at me with sad eyes as I mopped the floors and would say to me 'You can stop, Sweet, you don't need to do all of this.'

Well, unless he had a housekeeper coming, I was pretty sure I did have to keep going otherwise we'd be living waist high in our own filth. And the tragic thing I've discovered is that, just because it's my birthday, it doesn't mean the chores go away. And apparently it doesn't mean my husband will pick up the slack for 24 hours, either.

Which was a complete and total 'What the Fuck' moment, for me.

In terms of Valentine's Day - we usually don't celebrate it because my birthday is so close, and our wedding anniversary is in March. Given the birthday fail, I have the lowest expectations one could ever have for Valentines Day. If I am still breathing at the end of the day, I will have exceeded those expectations.

But this is meant to be all about loving myself. And thank god for that because it looks like I'm the only who will be!

I'm going to admit that I make a kick-arse cheesecake. And I love that I can make one thing for my family that they will eat, without being cajoled, bribed or force fed.

My cooking leaves a lot to be desired. Such as food content not derived from charcoal. Although if my family did eat more of my cooking, the fart smells would be far less offensive. And it's kinder than forcing charcoal tablets down their throats (picture trying to give a tablet to a rabid cat while a rabid squirrel chews on your head).

But my cheesecake is the best EVER - even though I can burn water.

So there you go - I am completely, 100% in love with myself now, and I want to go home and eat a cheesecake all to myself. Because that's how I roll.

Fresh Horses Brigade: Farewell...

It's not the kind of thing I thought I would be writing on the day before my birthday, but Eden calls and, she always has such compelling requests, I can't say no.

Planning your funeral was always something I thought should be done by your family and/or friends. The people who knew you best. But apparently I was very, very wrong if you listen to all those Insurance Line advertisements on TV. Apparently I should be planning it myself, and have the money ready and waiting.

Well, excuse me for not rushing out to buy the insurance - I'll fully admit I'm one of those people who is superstitious. As in if I have a funeral insurance policy, or if I write my will, it means I'll die.

And I'm so not ready to do that.

But I can't deny that my death is something I've thought about. I shared some fears not long ago. And I still fear death with the chilling worry of someone who has too much to live for. Which is a good thing. The day I no longer fear death I think will be the day it takes me.

So I shall live forever. Awesome.

But Eden is specifically after the song we would play at our funeral.

My Mum is very open about death, and was even looking into a career as a mortician. Until she took up nursing...moving on...and has told me about various scenarios she's considered for her funeral. One of her ideas was to have something rigged up to make her hand wave as people leave.

Because we all know how freakin' awesome a funeral would be if the dead person waved goodbye. Not.

I know she wants to be cremated. Her claustrophobia means the thought of laying for eternity in a narrow box with the lid bolted shut is the worst thing I could ever do to her, short of putting her in it while she's still alive. So cremation it is. And as for the music, well - I'm still not too sure about her choices. But it doesn't have to appeal to me, so here we go...

When people enter the chapel she wants Fastball's 'The Way'.

"...the children woke up

And they couldn't find them

They left before the sun

Came up that day...

They just drove off and

Left it all behind them..."

That's what my Mum loves about that song. If I was a small child, I'd be worried about my Mum packing up and pissing off without me. Now, I'm not worried about her going, her sense of direction is awful.

At the end, she wants Monty Python's 'Bright Side of Life' playing. And for people to be made to stay and listen/watch the clip. Even if I have to handcuff them to the chairs.

I can totally do that.

As for me...well, I'm not entirely sure.

There are a few possibilities, I suppose. A few songs that speak to me and I'd like people to think of me when they hear them - in a positive way.

The first is probably the most 'tragic'. A friend from Canada used to roll her eyes every time I played this and would tell me how it was "always the slow dance song at all the prom's". But I love this song, and we don't have prom's in Australia, so she can bite my arse...

I would listen to the full Enigma CD when falling asleep and this song always stuck with me. The lyrics are prophetic, in a way, because when we die I like to think we're not frightened, but that we relive everything wonderful from our life and get to start again with the same soul, but a different body.

The second is just a beautiful song that I love...

"...In the sun, I'll wait for you..."

Because I hope that's how it will be.

Death is such a huge empty space on the radar - and people spend their whole lives asking the question 'what happens'? And if they ever get an answer I'll be the first in line to get it. Maybe that's why it's so frightening - it's the only 'true unknown' we have. In a world where 'the unknown' is simply another title for 'I'll Google it', where we know the ins and outs of our own DNA, the idea that there is something we can't Google or get a straight answer for is worrying.

But I like to think it's a place we'll all be happy. Besides, no one has come back to say it's shite!

To check out more music and, possibly, some interesting ideas for your own funeral, pop over to Edenland.

Fuck I hope writing this post doesn't mean I'll die. I'm still not getting insurance.

Edenland Fresh Horses Brigade: Handwriting...

Eden has asked us to 'bring out your dead!' (Oh Monty Python, you have a quote for everything...) or, more specifically, your handwriting.

Some of us have great penmanship - and I think there was even a time where you could get a certificate or something for your fabulous handwriting skills.

I'm not entirely sure - I may have dreamt this or a family member could have mentioned it. Sometimes I drift off while family members are talking, so the two combine to create a dream-chat-baby.

It makes my life confusing and leaves me feeling like I'm always in that twilight sleep. But it's not an entirely bad place to be. Unless you're operating heavy machinery.

But moving on to the main point of this - my handwriting...

Eden, your meme kicks arse - just putting that out there. I look at my handwriting and sometimes think a drunk person has held my hand. Or a 5 year old.

It's a worry.

Bring on next week!