Happy Fathers Day to all the Bogans out there

What an absolute cracker of a Sunday for Fathers Day today.  It was a treat for us cause we don't usually have the husband home for this celebration, he is usually away working keeping us in the lifestyle we are accustomed.  Someone has too.  So we started the day with homemade cards in bed, which the kids worked all last night on.  There was a lot of cutting out of magazines, colouring and sticking. Our kitchen table looked like a primary school art class had thrown up on it.  One card included a rap by the 8 yr old and the middle child seems to think her Dad looks like someone from a bad 70's disco movie. 




















He also got some new Kiwi Sounds to beef up our collection and a book about straw bale houses.  After the mandatory fry up for Brekky,  I packed the car and loaded everyone into it for a trip to the Oxford Speedway for a Charity Family Day out raising money for Prostate Cancer.  We met up with one of my besties and her wee family, which consists of a husband and two 2 yr old twin girls for a picnic in the sun.
I forgot that Speedway usually has a compulsory uniform of Black Jeans, Black T-shirt, Mullet and can of Bourbon in hand.  This family day was no exception.  I learnt a lot about parenting and how it seems to be very effective to just pretend like no one else is around and scream at your children about "how they better not f#@%*en show you up today!!"  A family just beside us decided to have a coke and paint fight with the 'loser' ending up looking like something from a scary version of Brave hart.  That was about the time we decided to move our blanket a bit further away.
I kept having to check where my son was in case a bogan decided to recruit him or steal him as bait for a bogan kid fight.
Then just as the sun was going down and the speedway was closing, we got distracted and let our guard down, which gave one of the twins just enough time to pick up and almost eat a piece of discarded bogan bread off the ground.  Sweet Jesus her mother had lightning reflexes.  She swooped into survival mode and dived across the picnic blanket flicking that bread out like a ninja.  Before she could be infected with bogan-niss.  We won't really know just how much she was contaminated until later I'd imagine, but if she starts demanding Metallica and coke in the next few days, we will at least be able to pin point exactly whats to blame.  Her parents have been given strict instructions to put her on a complete diet of hummus and Bob Marley to counteract the symptoms.  We live in hope.

To Write or To Read

Its been awhile since I've been back on here....I have really struggled to multi-task.  I either write manically or I read enthusiastically.  I can't seem to do both at the same time.  The last couple of months I have chosen the later and been reading like a mofo. 
I started 'Our Book Club' on FaceCrack and it has lots of awesome members who give great recommendations.  I have been working my way through all these awesome titles.  I stand in Whitcoulls scrolling through my facebook to find my next read.  My Book shelf and Kindle has never looked so full and inviting.  However in the back of my mind has been my little Blog which gives me so much happy.  I love to hide behind it and write stuff down and know its being read out in the universe somewhere. 
Blogging rules cause there are so many good ones out there.  I have 4 that I follow religiously.  They are over in Aussie and I totally dig them.  'Dad down Under' 'Woogsworld' 'Edenland' 'Life Love and Hiccups' There are plenty of awesome Kiwi ones too.  I like Blogs that make me smile or better yet, piss my self laughing.  They are the nice part of opening my email.  Its like getting a hand written letter in the mail box amongst all those suxy fliers and bills.
Which brings me to the reason I actually suddenly got my spark back.  I was standing in my kitchen in my gumboots, having just done the poo patrol of our property.  This is quite a big job when you have 6 Chooks, 2 Pigs, 2 Dogs and a Cat cruising around your acre like they own the place.  That's a whole heap of shit.  Trust me.
I came in to do something motherly for a child in the kitchen and decided to check my emails first.  Priorities people.  I haven't had a comment on my blog for ages, which is totally fair enough as it has been channelling Sleeping Beauty.  So I was surprised to notice I had one.  Bloggers freaken love comments cause it means people are actually reading your ramblings.  At this point I would like to refer you to a previous post I did about 'No1 Fan Girl' it basically admitted to what a complete spaz I am when I'm near anyone remotely famous.  That said, these other blogs that I read, I have put those bloggers in my famous category in my brain, cause they are so clever and never seem to get writers block or anything.  So my comment this morning was from 'Dad down Under'.... ummm as soon as I saw his name,  my spaz returned with avengence! "How did he even come across my little bit of the blogasphere?" but thank you universe that he did cause now I'm all like "Kids GET OUT...Mummy's blogging again!!!!"

It was a long day today

I had a pretty long day today.  Won't go into the boring details.  Just trust me it was long.
Not bad or anything.  Just long.
I think it had a lot to do with the hours and hours I spent on my hands and knees weeding the arse out of my garden yesterday.  I'm not a weeder normally.  Ask anyone.  In fact I've probably only done it twice in my whole life.  By the time it was all over my back, knees and fingers felt like they needed to be admitted to the local rest home for an extended stay of complete bed rest and liquid food to recover.
That was yesterday.   I was dreading today.  Today I'm feeling it in my thighs and lower back.
Nothing too serious but it would be a shame not to exaggerate the groans as I stand and sit for my families benefit.  They need to know how bloody hard I worked yesterday.  Thank you very much.
So tonight after my long day I figured I deserved a long, hot soak in the tub.
Picture this.  Pissing down rain on the roof.  Thunder and lightning even.  Candles lit on every surface of the bathroom.  Running a big deep bath.  Added some Epsom salts for my aching muscles (yes I'm 70! and what?) Had some nice kiwi music playing softly for ambiance.  My book is at the ready.
I can feel myself relaxing already.  I go to climb in and WTF? the bloody hot water has run out half way thru the filling so now I'm stuck with a very pathetic Luke warm bath.  Which to a bath connisure (?) like myself is just basically Shit house.  The worst kind of Shit house.  "Well too bad" I said out loud to the universe with maybe a few other words containing letters like KCUF and possibly some that may or may not have sounded a bit like Brother Ducker added to the statement.  "I will not be a victim, I am having a bloody bath" so I sat in my crappy bath and pretended like everything was freaken awesome until I couldn't handle it any longer and hypothermia seemed like a very real possibility.
Thank god for electric blankets and my wonderful mum sending me supplies to replenish my hidden Chocolate Supply.  I needed it right now.  Nothing fixes a long day and aching muscles like a whole bag of Whittakers White Chocolate and Raspberry mini slabs.

Just did some casual weeding.  No biggie!

Cinderella the Shitbag Teenager

So it would be fair to say we have had our share of drama to contend with where our Teenager is concerned over the past few months.  Don't get me wrong there have been a few good days in amongst all that as well.  But I just can't seem to recall them.  Perhaps I was dreaming. 
Evil out ways the Good.
I remember something the amazing 'Nigel Latta' once said "Teenagers just aren't right in the head". 
I agree.  One minute shes all sweet and light and the next she is a head spinning version of the exorcist.
Feet stomp like a 5 year old when asked to do anything.  Loud dramatic huffing and puffing can be heard down the street I'm sure.  It is a normal occurrence to have her mid-dishes declare at the top of her lungs "Aaarrgggh I'm just soooo frustrated...I need 5 minutes alone" stomp stomp door slam and Teenager disappears (and when after a quick game of 'paper scissors rock' one parent draws the short straw and has to venture into her pit of death bedroom to explain to her that she better bloody come and finish the job she has left half completed) it's quite normal to find her face down on her bed like her world is so bloody hard and we are ruining her life by making her put her hands in hot soapy water to clean dishes that "She didn't even use?!"
Inhale Exhale.  I often have visions of tying her to the wheelie bin just in time for Friday morning collection.  I have found some wisdom over the years.  Teenagers are a lot like babies.  If they are sleeping.  Don't you dare wake them up.  I let her sleep as long as she can on a Sunday.  Just for the peace we all get.
But today was a good day, so thought I should probably document it just in case its years before we have another like it. 

I couldn't get her off this once she got the hang of it

Scrubbing out the green slime from the Chooks water Clam

Sweeping even

Folded Washing

Vacuuming

This was the end of the day...Starting to lose her sparkle

Even cooked a delicious dinner

 Do you think she wants something?? Like maybe her Stereo power cord back or the new Wifi Password perhaps.  I think Aliens stole my teenager and replaced her with a new one.  One that's not broken.  I like those Aliens.

The Great Undie Massacre

A couple of weeks ago I'd had enough.  That was it.  No more.  Something snapped, not my waist elastic but my patience and I decided that the Undies I had been wearing for the past 20 years needed to be exorcised.  These were my Undies from 5th Form.  Yup 5th Form.  I was 15 when I bought them?!  Some might be saying "Wow she stills fits her undies from when she was 15?!" and tempted as I am to let you go on believing that,  alas it's not quite as glamorous as it sounds...I don't care how much quality Bendon put into their underwear back then, they were never supposed to survive 2 Children and 20 yrs.  All that wear and pregnancies had stretched those bad boys into a holey, sad, depressed but dependable heap. 
They had become the Street kids of my Undie drawer, the homeless living under a bridge, the orphans, the ones no one wants to be friends with.
 It's not like I haven't bought other more comfortable, exciting pairs for my arse during these 20 years but somehow those old ones would retreat to the bottom of the drawer whenever the new fancy ones were put in and then slowly creep there way back up to the top when I ran out of clean washing. I'm surprised they haven't sacrificed themselves sooner by leaping from the open drawer, landing on the floor then scurrying under my wardrobe like one of all my bloody pair of socks have done!
It's not like they didn't know they were the last one picked for the team, the ugly ones, the Great-Aunt with a beard. It must've been obvious due to my dramatic sighing and the husbands screams of terror whenever they were pulled from the depths to feel the sunlight for a brief moment.
So I finally did it, I went out and spent $117 at the Farmers sale and purchased 7 brand spanking new pairs and before they were taken out of the bag, I had an Undie drawer Massacre.  I pretty much burnt those monstrosities on the stake, i sacrificed those demons, I threw them out with the dishwater, I put them out of their/my misery and God it felt Goood! I felt free.  I felt alive.  Now my drawer is a happy, colourful, comfortable place to venture each morning. I don't have to hide them amongst the towels on the clothes line so the neighbours won't see anymore.  I highly recommend a routine purge of all that old stuff.  It's amazing how a nice new pair of scants can lift your mood!

No 1 Fan Girl

I have this mental disorder when ever I meet someone who has been on TV.  I'm not even talking big celebrities or anything, if they have been on anything even an ad,  my brain just can't cope.  I blame society and the Woman's weekly for unrealistic fame stigmas and I'm a total sucker for it.
The reason I'm thinking about how stupid I act when standing in front of someone famous is because this weekend I get to be bridesmaid at my besties wedding Wedding No 7 and she and her soon to be husband cavort quite regularly with people who have been on the box.  Which also means I will be standing up and doing a speech in front of those friends.  I'm getting hives thinking about it.  They tell me they are just normal people and my brain totally gets that but when I actually get to have a small moment with anyone slightly famous I turn into a 14 yr old girl standing in front of One Direction.  I get all nervous and say the dumbest shit in a stupid voice and as much as I say to myself "Play it cool Shelley" that's the exact opposite of what I end up doing. 
The conversation pretty much always goes like this:
Them: Hi, How are you?
Me: Gulp Oh my god you've been on TV????
Them: ahhh yeah
Me: No you have actually been on TV????
Them: Yip nervous laugh
Me: That's so cool, I've totally seen you!!! manic laugh
Them: Rigggght Thanks awkward silence
Me: still manic laughing, staring and bright red cause now I've got nothing else to say.
I think half the problem stems from my unrealistic expectations for myself.  Whenever I have got to meet someone awesome in the music industry, just before the meeting I think to myself...this time I'm going to be so funny and awesome that they will want to invite me backstage and hang out and be best friends forever?! Ummm yip its fair to say that due to my disturbing behavior that will never happen in my lifetime.
 I'm a 36 yr old woman who can quite happily meet and greet strangers on a daily basis, I can answer phones no problem, doesn't faze me to walk into a party and make conversation with new people so why oh why do I get my spaz on when talking to a famous person?!
Imagine if I ever got to meet someone super famous like Madonna OK chances are slim but pretty sure her security would be all over me pretty bloody quickly.

Tell me the most famous person you have ever met and were you cool or a spaz like me?

Happy Jesus Day

Soooo Easter is almost upon us, although every year I'm never really sure just when it is, due to the fact that the super markets have huge displays of Chocolate Eggs of every mouth watering shape or form from about boxing day.  Its strange, I'm such a Chocoholic and will buy copious amounts of chocolate blocks or bars, storing them in different hidey spots so I don't have to share with any of my off spring, but I won't buy delicious looking Easter Eggs until the week before and certainly won't eat any until the actual day.  I think that stems from Childhood rules which are obviously strictly ingrained for some bizarre reason.
The one Eastery thing we do however gorge ourselves on from as early as poss is Hot Cross Buns.  Not being huge fans of fruit in bread we tend to spend our money on the plain or Chocolate Chip varieties.  Heated with lots of artery clogging butter melted on top.  They just stay fresher longer. Although I'm only guessing about that fact, as they are inhaled pretty quick in my household.
Which brings me to a very fun opportunity for my divine readers to get in on the Hot cross bun action.
 The Wonderful people at Bakers Delight have given me some $10 vouchers to give away so that 3 of you can add some yummy treats to your Easter Weekend.
Drop me a comment about your plans for Easter this year or what your favourite baked item at Bakers Delight is and I will randomly choose 3 Names from a official looking hat, drawn by the 7yr old and will get those vouchers sent out in time for Jesus Day...What fun what fun!