I think yet therefore I DON'T

You know, I get though the week thinking 'if these bloody children would stop screaming/acting up/drawing on walls I could get this/this/this and that done in peace'.


If Betty Boo would stop fighting with me at bedtime (yes - she is fighting with me, I am Zen, I am Mary Poppins at bedtime, I endure hours of bullshit from her with a smile plastered on my face and NEVER give in to the crap until she sleeps. Non-violent resistance at its best, with alcohol as my main support) I could actually write a blog post every night like I promised I would.


So what happens when I actually DON'T have the kids around? Do I do all the things I wish I could? NO.

I usually wander around the house with a stupid look on my face for awhile. Then I sit and try to read a book/hit the laptop/clean my room. Everything gets done far more quickly that I think and I'm stuffed for the rest of the day and night. It's not so bad if I know the kids will be off with Scorpio for a couple of days because I hit the ground running. All fiddly bits are done quickly and I can plan something - even if it is to FINALLY watch the last of The Lord of the Rings.


It's worse in winter because I just don't want to do anything but if I stuff around doing nothing at home all day I feel it's time wasted. In summer it's not really a problem - I go visit friends, or have them over for drinks, or go out and dance my pants off, knowing a I have full day to recover from all the kid-free shenanigans.


A couple of times lately, I have returned home from dropping off the children to literally fall on the couch and sleep for HOURS. This frightens me a little bit when I realise how tired I must have been. And how on earth I can possibly function like that on an ongoing basis. It sucks balls when I wake and need even more sleep. No, really NEED even more. Then I go into the whole 'wasted day' thing again.

I am finding a balance though - very slowly, and I know when spring and summer return my energy will too. I allow myself the time to rest, but only after I have done a few key things so I can prevent the banshee in my head from screaming too loudly, so I can really enjoy some solitude and self-care and stay in that moment.





Cos if the Mumma ain't happy - aint noooooo one happy.

Family Xmas report....and a great big tangent.

As usual it was fantastic.

Cept for the fact my sisters girlfriend had an unfortunate incident at work where her safety rope snapped (WHOA) and she came off her trapeze and broke her wrist. Bugger. There is always one or two that can't make it.....

We were at a Bush Camp in North Victoria and BOY were things different 6 years from the last time we were there. First point - about 8 million housing estates had sprung up. We were in the middle of nowhere last time!

Second point - last time we were there it was December and therefore SUMMER. I have pictures of Teen Queen sitting in the blow up pool with 6 month old Cyclone and boy it was hot. This time it was FREEEEEEZING!

Although we fired up the huge wood heater the moment we got there it still took ages to warm up, but good food and music helped us get toasty.






Although I have several awesome pics of my family gathered around Kaz and her guitar heartily singing clothed in 15 layers and clutching glasses, I realised I shouldn't really publish them it might bugger up whatever professional standing my relatives hold.....like at rather salubrious educational institutions around the state so you will have to make do with this pic and use your imaginations....


After all the little 'uns had gone to bed, the guitar came out quick smart and after we got the Creedence Clearwater Revival and the Dylan songs out of the way Uncle G started a rousing rendition of "Bound for South Australia".

Isn't it amazing how you realise you remember the words of songs you haven't sung for years?

"Heave away you rulent kings, heave away, haul away. Heave away you'll hear me sing - bound for South Australia"

Now those are the words I was taught and the only words I know. "Bound for South Australia" is a famous sea shanty used by the wheat and wool traders that worked the clipper ships between Australia and London. It's such a great song to sing that I was going to post the lyrics or even a Utube by The Pogues so you could all get rocking yourselves...

but now I'm pissed off because the words are all different from the ones I know. It used to be about Rulent Kings and leaving your wife and child behind and making do with a bottle of whiskey....but all I could find was versions going on about rolling kings and meeting Miss Nancy bloody Blair.

What happened to the lyrics I was taught at school over ABC Radio National??? HUH??


Now I don't usually spruik for comments - but I'd really like to know.

1) Do you have any idea what I'm talking about?
2) Do you know what happened to the lyrics?

Yummy skin for winter

So we have spent the last few weeks wearing layers and rugged up against the cold, curled up in front of the heater and blasting our electric blankets as high as they can go.

Therefore it's time for a good body scrub to get rid of all the (eewwww) layers of dead skin building up.


Here are a couple of very EASY and basic body scrubs -


Easy 1
Favourite moisturiser + a handful of salt OR sugar. Yep that's it. I prefer salt myself. Mix in a small bowl so it's a bit runnier than a paste.

Easy 2
Salt or sugar + Extra Virgin Olive Oil (or avocado, almond, even a massage oil). Add a drop or two of lavender if you like.


Green Tea
For something a little more refreshing use half a cup of sugar, a teaspoon (or bag) of green tea leaves, add your oil of choice and stir together.


Oat Scrub
Half a cup of Quick Oats (if you only have rolled oats or oatmeal you should whizz them in a blender first.
Half a cup of sugar, mix it up with your oil of choice.


I put my hair up, jump into the shower (and therefore always use plastic containers to mix the scrubs!) wet myself down then scrub in a circular motion. Don't go too hard - let the exfoliant do the work.

I start with my boobs, then tummy and legs, then arms/shoulders of course paying attention to knees, elbows and heels. Get someone to do your back for you. Heaven.




Rinse yourself off, pat dry and you will feel like a million dollars.


Now - like I said these are basic scrubs. All you need is an exfoliant and a moisture base.

Exfoliants - Ground Oats/Oatmeal. Salt. Sugar - white/caster, brown sugar is lovely and not as rough.

Moisture Base - any type of oil. Plain Olive Oil can be a bit heavy (and smelly), so I use the extra virgin. I just love olive oil for everything.


Extras - green tea leaves, your fave essential oil, honey, bi-carb soda - oh just chuck a bit of that in anyway, it's great stuff too.


I only ever make enough for one use. You probably could make a big jarful and store it but there could be an issue with spoilage, unless you have a mainly salt base.

So go ahead and have fun, make up your own personal blend with all your favourites or just do the most basic for a very quick, yet very effective skin pick-me-up.


Yes you can use them on your face. Just go very gently ok?

Onion Syrup for coughs

Don't panic people. It's not as bad as it sounds, it's cheap, easy and IT WORKS.

I don't believe in most cough medicines because they just don't work AND even though they don't work they have horrible things in them that you can't ingest if you are under two or pregnant. Which sucks.

So it's winter and I probably should have posted this before but sometimes I forget I don't have ESP.


You need -

An onion or two
Honey (Manuka is good but any will do)
2 jars with wide necks.
A knife and a chopping board.


Slice the onion thinly.
Wash the jars thoroughly. Dribble a couple of teaspoons of honey in the bottom.
Layer about 2 cms of sliced onion, then a layer of honey.
Repeat till you are out of onions, squashing down the layers as best you can.
Put in the fridge overnight or for a good few hours.

Strain off the liquid, or just tip the liquid from one jar to another - whatever. Leave the onions behind.


Take a teaspoon full whenever you need - safe for children and preggos.

The astringent qualities of the onion will infuse into the honey and you will barely taste the onion at all. It reduces the frequency of the cough and is great for chest infections.

Onions are awesome for everything by the way...

I said I would and I AM!

I told you I was going to write every single day for a month.


I haven't missed a day, I've been posting over here at Lulu & The Cyclone.

Things have been busy in Cyclone word. He is still cool as shit though....

Spoilage

So I lashed out this weekend and took myself off for a massage.




In Warburton, one of the prettiest (if not THE prettiest) towns in Victoria. I love this place, it's only 90 minutes away in the hills and just being there makes me feel calmer. Summer is just as lovely and the river is a perfect place to cool off but sometimes a little scary on a hot windy day. It was sheer luck and a change of wind direction that spared Warburton from tragedy on Black Saturday.





I walked into the Wellbeing Centre strung higher than a racehorse, and walked out after an hour with Manfred floating an inch off the floor. $65 for an hour of heaven - well half an hour really - I should have warned Manfred he would need a meat tenderiser to get my shoulders down from around my ears before he could get me into a workable state.
Truly, my voice was about 3 octaves lower and the static in my head was down 95%. I rugged up and spent nearly an hour wandering down the main street and fossicking in the shops.





Some handmade soap and 2 second-hand books later I headed home for a bath and a facial.


Total bliss, highly recommended.

Vehicle detective....

I have been rather perplexed for awhile now. I have a car for sale and no one wants to buy it.

It's in near perfect condition, full service history, low mileage and all the bells and whistles you could want. But no one wants. It has been weeks and weeks and no word.

With everything going on in my life right now, I am just unable to take enquiries and deal with tyre kickers each weekend so my dear mechanic and friend Kiwi Mick told me he would handle it all for me. He sells cars alot and crap on Ebay all the time so it wasn't too much of a stress for him.

I gave the car a quick once over with the vacuum, a tearful goodbye ( I don't want to get rid of it, but who really needs 2 cars?) and told Kiwi Mick I would arrange for a detailer to do a proper job. Ah, no don't worry says Mick - I'll sort it out.

I breathe a sigh of relief and feel thankful for friends.

So weeks have gone by without a sale and since I am going away for the weekend I decide I'll take it out for a nice big drive. Mick and I have a quick chat and a mutual headshake about the lack of buyers - I load it up with bags, seats, sleeping bags kids and dog.

After a few kilometers down the highway and I think I'm onto something. It might be a clue...or two.

The windows are dirty there are marks everywhere and when you turn on the heater it REEKS OF CIGARETTES. Not just cigarettes, but butts soaked in beer and left out in the sun for a week.


Do you think I'm onto something? Should I resign from my job as Kid Wrangler and become a detective?


Yours in pissed offed-ness,

Lulu

Merry Xmas!!!

It's that time of year again for my family, and I can't wait to see everyone again!

When I was little, every second year in December we would pack the car and head to country Victoria where my cousins lived. The other years they would come to Melbourne to celebrate Christmas together.

We would all jam into the one house and spend the days swimming, running about, opening presents and eating ourselves silly. At night the kids would find a space on the floor, unroll the sleeping bags and tell spooky stories all night.

The adults would sit around the big table joking and telling stories all night too. It was wonderful going to sleep with raucous laughter in your ears.

As the years have gone by, the already huge family has expanded and we can't possibly fit in the one place, so we started hiring out school camp style venues. Quite a few of my uncles/aunts/cousins are teachers so we have access to lots of places across the state.

One year we stayed at a Hospitality Tradeschool - most of the students had left for the holidays so we moved into the dormitories and had the working restaurant all to ourselves. It was great not having to worry about feeding the masses but we drunk the cellar out of red wine the first night we were there.....and they doubled the prices 2 years later.

After a few years of missing family members that couldn't get time off in December, we changed it to July and that's far easier. We stopped doing presents now but we will do a big swap of kids clothes and toys. There is a rocking duck (as opposed to horse) that was bought for me when I was 2 - it has gone through every single family and is about to be passed around the circle again as the cousins have children of their own. It's 35 years old, and still loved by everyone.

I can't wait to present my cousin with a beautiful dress bought in England by her mother 20 years ago. It was worn by both my girls and now it's time to pass it on again.

I LUUURVE Xmas in July, I lluuuurve my family and I can't wait to cuddle the newest members, freak out at how tall the boys are getting and sing karaoke with them till the early hours...


Cheers

Dear Everyone....

Dear Batchelor,

I understand you are a tidy man and I appreciate that. I hope you can appreciate that I am tidy too, but take a little longer get around to things as I am often negotiating peace deal #267, taking multiple phone calls and dressing errant children.
Yes I have noticed you have a 'thing' about getting rid of paper after I found you throwing out some of my notes and mail. Making me think I am going crazy is one thing, but throwing out a PRISTINE stack of unread weekend newspapers is just going too far.



Dear Cyclone,

I know things have changed around here lately but I was wondering if you could try to get out of the right side of bed in the morning? Barking orders at me and ranting at the lack of Nutri Grain in the house before I am fully awake is a crappy way to start the day.
Also - are you aware it's not actually compulsory to push your sister over when she walks past you?


Dear Betty Boo,

I know your brother is horrible to you when he is in a bad place, but I wish you would stop the head splitting screams. I have thought about it at length and have decided it is preferable to hear you call him a fricken idiot under your breath than have my ears bleed by 8.30am every morning.



Yours Truly

Lulu, Mummy

Very Bad Things Part 6

I left the bloody dog in the car - AGAIN.

No no not in the searing heat - it's freeeeeeezing here. No, not at the shopping centre, and not at the pub whilst I spend all the food money on the poker machines.

In the driveway.

Bloody mutt cries at the door as soon as she hears me pick up the keys. If I'm doing a school/kinder run I always take her. If I am heading to the local shop I take her too because she is like a kid that always wants to go for an adventure.

Most times I let her sit in the front seat (cos she is a bit of a princess), but in winter the shaggy dog can get quite soggy so I put her in the back of the station wagon and since she fell asleep on the 10 minute trip to the post office I completely forgot about her.

So 4 hours after I got home, The Batchelor rocks in the door asking if I have forgotten anything - then promptly releases an overexcited bundle off fluff down the hall and onto my face. He drove in the driveway and saw a little face in the back of the car.

Lots of lickage. Then she ran to the backyard to wee.


Anyhoo - I have resolved to only let my poochy princess in the FRONT seat of the car from now, and only in the very back when on holidays - cos I have to unpack at some point and will surely remember she is there even if she is asleep.

Finding a new groove

Ok, so I am going to get my backside into gear. I've dropped off on the posting a fair bit and I need to get my groove back.

I used to love Friday nights because Scorpio would arrive at my place which meant I could knock off the parenting responsibilities immediately (except for screaming orders at him from the lounge room) pour myself a drinky poo and dribble out all the ridiculousness life had brought me for the week.

Things are MENTAL around here lately, I've lost my Friday night off and I'm finding it hard to blawg. So I figure if I FORCE myself to write it might help. See because I have stopped dribbling regularly, the thoughts are backing up....since lately this is my ONLY outlet it's gonna get ugly.

I might start telling random strangers my life story. I might start telling the telemarketers Ways To Improve Their Selling Technique, or worse still I might join the Kindergarten Committee - NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!





I just want my groove back.....maaaaaan.

For the love of The Hat

I love hats.

I have several but I've lost more than I possess but right now I'm travelling just fine with one pink and one black knitted cap. Toasty.

My first fave was my black Greek Fisherman Hat and it was worn to death, I've gone through a pink cowboy hat phase before I switched to white.

I have a couple of these little numbers in storage somewhere






My brother gave me an Afghanistan Freedom Fighter hat for my 21st, but I didn't wear that around much - it was waaay hot.

I love straw hats, I especially love great big floppy black ones for summer.

I have plenty of gardening hats - that's where my glam summer hats go to retire when they have been sat on or drowned in the pool once too often.


For the life of me I can't understand why more people aren't wearing hats.

It's FREEZING. You lose all that heat off your head AND fashion opportunities AND ways to cover your cold, limp hair.


I have some lovely brass hooks I am going to drill into the walls at my new house (when no one is looking) - no home is complete without somewhere to hang your hat.

Cheers

The Fallout

HA - seriously, did you think I was going to get in trouble for unauthorised flogging of Batchelors bank account??

OF COURSE NOT.

Like I said, he knew what he was doing by giving me access to his bank account. He's a growned up man.

Also, we have known each other for 10+ years and in that time I have often been his Claytons Wife. I am his date to various work functions and weddings.

And I require a new dress and glammo shoes every so often if I am to carry out my Claytons Wifely duties so it's not like it's a new concept. If I do say so myself I'm a damn fine pretend wife.

I don't care if he doesn't get up and dance with me at weddings, if he actually does get up and boogie I think it's funny when he makes a fool of himself. Or dances with everyone else's wives.
I think it's hysterical when he drinks too much and gets loud. I never tell him when he's 'had enough' because I don't care....I don't have to deal with him at home *snigger.

I can tell off his boss for being a dork or overworking him at business functions and they think I'M funny because I'm not his wife.

So this whole thing works pretty well - being a pretend wife is waaaay easier than a real one and I'm pretty full on the husband quota already *snort

Very Bad Things Part 5

Oh I am ROTTEN, I really am.

Last week The Bachelor asked me to do an errand for him. I am happy to help him like that because I like living in his house. He gave me his keycard.

I had several things on the list, but when I got to the shopping centre I completely forgot what they were.

There are so many huge sales on.....you know where this is going right?

Yeah, I gave his card a flogging. Well, it was only a medium sized flogging -ok?

I bought 2 skirts, 3 tops and a new hat and quite frankly it's all his fault.

WHY? Because he gave me his key card.

He KNOWS me, he knows what I'm like and also knows I haven't bought myself any new clothes since the last Ice Age.

He also told me a few weeks ago that he got a huge amount back from his tax.

He knows I have an important party to go to.


So as you can see, The Batchelor asked me...NO, begged me to run amok at his expense.

When I came out of my spell, and looked down at all the bags in my hand I dropped my high just a little. I felt slightly bad and I tried my best to remember what I was really supposed to be doing. For the life of me I could not remember what he wanted me to do for him.

So I bought him some socks.

The End.

Gushy Love Letter....

Ach - I can't help it. I gotta blurt it out.

Super mummies I LOVE YOU.

I knew I loved you before I knew you. I found your blogs and you made me laugh, I followed you, read you and felt something in common with you - even if I couldn't put a finger on it.

Then I noticed. You are the mothers of the Spectrum children. You live, love and sometimes fall down just like everybody else...but you do it, describe it and pull yourselves back up with a grin like no one else.



*grin - I know you get that.

So thanks for the laughs, and thanks for the insight. I rarely ask questions in the comments section but when I do you always respond and are happy to share whatever you can with me.

And if you lot haven't gone nuts yet - I know I won't anytime soon. Or will I?

Cheers

An Unholy Obsession

Okay, so I love Brie. It always scared me as a child, probably because it all seemed so grown up. And smelly. I only started eating Brie about 5 years ago, because it was on the long list of Foods You May Not Eat Whilst You Are Pregnant. So basically, even though it never interested me before, I decided I wanted it purely because I couldn't have it.

Now whilst I was breastfeeding I lost a frightening amount of weight. I'm fairly small anyway but when I look back at the photos during that time (in which I look like a strung out meth head) I can understand why everyone was urging me to eat.

So I ate lotsa Brie and chocolate. Pooooor, pooooor me. Then I stopped feeding Betty and my ability to evaporate billions of calories through milk production alone ceased and the Brie has now become a treat. Cos I eat an entire wheel to myself and it's best I only consume it once a month. Restraint ain't my thing either....

Now it's reached a scary peak of obsession. I have noticed I have started Brie Rituals.

Put Brie on the plate as soon as the children are in bed. Correct temperature is important.
Do ALL the housework. I cannot eat The Brie in a messy environment.

To truly deserve The Brie I must also prepare for the next day - ie putting the childrens clothes out ready for the morning. I don't usually do this.

Now I have an open fireplace I start a fire and settle in.

BUT tonight, when The Batchelor brought me some Brie unexpectedly AND laid it all out ready with bikkies I decided I must shower before I eat The Brie.


Next month I will probably add a Brie Dedication and wear a special Brie headdress for The Consumption Ceremony.

Ch Ch Ch Changes

I've been doing this for less than a year now. I started this after a friend of mine suggested I put it in writing instead of blowing her ear off every afternoon. I really enjoy blogging and in the beginning I wasn't sure what I wanted out of this.


I know what I don't want. I don't want to network, it's too much work for someone that just wants to write and try to get better at it.

I don't want sponsorship, I don't think this site will change the world.

I'm not writing "CEO inspired brilliance" or trying to "turn personal stories into universal lessons". I'll leave that shit to Dancing With The Stars or Masterchef....oh unless you count my story about why you SHOULDN'T teach your kids to call 000. Uni-fucking-versal lesson that one.

For fear of offending the shit out of everyone....sometimes the blog world feels a little like Facebook. Collecting friends, whining when someone ceases to follow. I've had someone cheerily comment on a post of mine but ran screaming back to their own blog about how offended they were at the content. Bluuergh. Can't be fucked.

I'm decluttering. I'm changing over to following some blogs by RSS because I have too many and keep missing things and feel like I can't keep up.

I suppose I just want to let everyone know I'm 'dropping out'. There's things about the blog world that ain't my style and I'm not dissing it or anyone but I just don't want to play is all.

But I will confess I fucking HATE Post It Note Tuesday, it's my one day of the week I can catch up my reading and I'm confronted by walls of fucking post it notes AAaggghhh!