I gots a microphone

And I'm SPRUIKING!




So imagine me in front of blogworld with my twinset, pearls and a little amplifier and listen whilst I tell you stuff.

The Fat Lady has this liddle meme-y/linky thingo going that I have been meaning to participate in for awhile but I haven't because I have been caught between a small existential crisis and the idiocy of Telstra Bigpond.

I'm still having the crisis but fuck it, I'm not letting my buddy down AGAIN this week!

So I'm spruiking my fave blog - actually I'm spruiking three of them. When I finally returned to my blog I ran straight to my favourites cos I missed them.

1) Revealing the Real Me, Andrea I just love. Just quietly her photo sucked me in because her eyes sparkle and her posts are so sunny. She also doesn't mind when I drop the F-bomb in her comments section.

2) Kelley at Magneto Bold Too This chick has serious crap going on but at all times makes me laugh whilst rockin her old lady shoes. Check it out.

3) Jemikaan -you MUST read this post. It's so close to my heart and if your heard The Fat Lady spruiking my Cyclone blog you will see why. The difference love, understanding and positive re-re-reinforcement can make to a child's life. there is going to be a 2010 remake of To Sir With Love over this post I can tell ya. I might even volunteer to sing (screech) the soundtrack....yanno, cos I'm Lulu and all.

High School Reunions

My 20 year high school reunion was this week....and I decided to go.





I haven't been able to draw breath much lately and it seemed yet another thing to stress about, but I was DYING to see some old friends. Lots I have already caught up with on Facebook and that made the idea more appealing.

We all had months to crap our pants about it, feel old and wonder if we really wanted to go. My Unperfect life is a pretty open book anyway so I shook off my sooky-pants, shaved my armpits and skidded out the driveway as the sound of my screeching offspring faded away. Clearly a good choice already.

It was wonderful. Most people I could pick across the room, others it took awhile to match...but there was shrieking and smiles aplenty. Constant flashback memories and "remember when?"




It wasn't a long night - after all, this was a Catholic School and it was held on a during the week, but enough emails and phone numbers we exchanged so we can have a longer catch up soon.

I'm pretty sure everyone was still the same. The loud ones remain loud, the quieter one still reserved and we have all lived the rollercoasters of our own lives and come out sorta normal.


I was thrilled to hear of a friend who ran away to the UK nursing her broken heart, spent years in a sharehouse with 26 people sucking up all the drugs she could get her hands on whilst maintaining a job with an elite makeup company.
Two of the brightest faces there credit their happiness to recent divorces. The most positive girl in school remains the same and has had 42 different jobs in 20 years.






No one was down on failed relationships or careers that didn't work out - they were sources of laughter. I didn't have a bad time at school, I don't have any horrible memories. Things that might have seemed terrible back then are funny now. Things that were funny then are even FUNNIER now.

Burning memories

- daring to go up the bell tower to find the dead nun in the rocking chair.
- the infamous chairthrowing incident with T and Mr M.
- Being lined up on our knees whilst they measured the length of our dresses.
- The young priest who wrote FUCK on the blackboard during "sex ed".
- The passionate maths teacher with her beautiful saris who was completely wasted on us.
- the day the local fire brigade came to assembly and filled the entire courtyard with foam.
- the day Mr M was "arrested" during assembly and put into the back of a divvy van with the entire school screaming with laughter.




On a separate and far more sombre note, I was shattered to hear of the death of Elizabeth. In my eyes she was the Ice Queen. Statuesque, nordic blonde and with an almost supernatural disposition. She was unflappable, supercool and when I named my youngest daughter I thought of her.
Something insidious stole her away from her friends, family and worst of all herself. That razor sharp brain and confidence diminished. I didn't have any preconceived notion of what she was meant to be, but to be cut short like that was certainly not in the plan, not right and what pisses me off about the world sometimes.

A short life - but one that made a lasting impression on many people. I'm sorry you
couldn't stay Liz.

Im back - with AWARDS!

Whale snot, shit/fuck and fruit bats giving blow jobs – it’s all here folks!

The Ig Nobel Awards have recently been announced. Don’t confuse this with the Nobel Prizes. The Ig Nobels are awarded to scientists whose research makes us laugh…and then makes us think.



Photo of Nobel Laureates Roy Glauber, Sheldon Glashow and James Muller at this years awards modelling the Gas Mask Bras that won an Ig Nobel last year..

First up, for Medicine – the Dutch scientists that discovered riding a roller coaster can treat asthma symptoms. Lucky I don’t get asthma because there is no way you are getting my arse onto one of those things.

Engineering Ig was won by a Mexican/British team for using a remote control helicopter to collect whale snot. Laugh! Then think….how else would you go about collecting snot from whales when you need said snot to monitor disease in whales and help their conservation as a species?

Physics Ig goes to the New Zealand researchers that proved wearing socks outside your shoes reduces slipping on icy paths. Thanks for that guys. I don’t like slipping over on the ice, but I would never have thought of putting my socks on OVER my shoes….

Management Ig Nobel goes to the Italians for “demonstrating mathematically that organizations would become more efficient if they promoted people at random”. Claaaaassic, and I believe it too.

Biology – the Chinese/British researchers skipped off with their prize for revealing documented evidence that female fruit bats perform fellatio on their partners. This is big because apparently humans are the only species that do this….and it shows that fruit bat ladies are really hot little shaggers because giving your bat bloke a blow job before you do it, makes the act of bat copulation looonger. Go you dirty fruity things!

BUT the one I love the bestest and which PROVES my point about fuck being one of the most satisfying words is the Ig Nobel for PEACE won by the Brits and Keele University that proves swearing relieves pain.
During their research they found volunteers could tolerate more pain if they spat out swear words rather than something neutral. In the words of Richard Stephens, the new Ig Nobel Laureate “swearing induces a fight or flight response and nullifies the link between fear of pain and pain perception”.


I can also back this theory with some evidence of my own. See many moons ago I woke in a hospital bed to some random dude using his entire body to ram a metal pole (artistic licence much?) into my chest to relieve the pressure of what turned out to be a collapsed lung. Local anesthesia did nothing to relieve the shock and pain, but I was told to swear my little butt off – which I did with relish and oh MY it really worked. Then I got some decent pain killers and had a great hallucinations……but the swearing worked it’s magic. Fuck yeah.

Welcome to WTF??? The remix...

Thank you to everyone that commented on my Perfect Day, Iz feelin the lurrve.

Of course, the higher you go the harder you fall and we have had a very difficult few days since. In fact I decided it was MY turn for a meltdown and ended up calling Lifeline....only to be told I should call the media. Yes people...apparently I should call A Current Affair. I will say that the effect was immediate in that I ceased to feel helpless and instead felt anger...job done people. It stopped me whining at least.




In any case I thought I'd let y'all know I'll be hanging out at my other blog Lulu and The Cyclone for awhile to process all the crap that's been happening around here lately. I'm in the kind of mood where I may very well tell random strangers their babies are ugly or start tripping over picture-perfect mummas at the shops - best I retreat to a cave for a little bit.


My WTF moment reminded me of a post I did back in May, here it is -



Ever read the piece "Welcome to Holland"? Check it out HERE. It was written in reference to finding yourself with a child with a disability but all the mums of kiddies On The Spectrum liked it so much we pinched it for ourselves.

Madmother did her own version called Welcome to Somalia


Here's mine -

The Steward announces over the intercom - Welcome to Holland! I grab her arms as she bounces past. Errrm, no I tell her - this plane is going to Italy! I paid for these tickets months ago, I've learnt how to say alcohol in every different dialect!


The Steward looks confused and returns shortly - there has been a mix up, I'll get back to you. Here's a vodka. After circling for hours she returns and announces we will be landing in Las Vegas.


WTF? I don't want to go there - it's too bright and shiny and the noise never stops. I planned on Italy, dammit. What's wrong with these people? Doesn't the pilot have a fricken map?


Oh thank goodness the plane is descending....I look out the window and see Somalia - NOOOO! The plane suddenly raises altitude again and I watch for another few hours whilst we fly over Egypt *sigh, circle over Iran, over Nepal *sigh


I need to stretch my legs, I'm sick of watching Adam Sandler movies over and over, the food is wretched and they have RUN OUT OF VODKA.

I have no idea where or when this plane is landing and now I don't care. At least I'll have friends in Holland and Somalia...maybe a few in Las Vegas. I just want to GET OFF.


Where do they keep the fucking parachutes?????

One Perfect Day

I have seriously had the best day! I have to share it and don't crap on me because this is BIGTIME in the Unperfect household. On every level.


When I tucked Cyclone into bed last night he mentioned making me breakfast in bed. Lo and behold - after an uninterrupted sleep for both of us, I woke to hear movement in the kitchen. I lolled about, loving that I woke up on my own (no cats on face, dog snuffling at the door or an elbow in my face) and soon saw a grinning Cyclone face peering into my room. Look mummy!


He did it! The little monkey filled the kettle and boiled it, got out the toaster and the toast fixings, knocked on The Batchelors bedroom door and asked for help with the kettle and presented me with tea and Vegemite toast in bed.




After a lovely breakfast we got dressed no complaining and decided to seize the day with a short bike ride. We headed to the local school for a meeting to enrol Cyclone for next term. He was nervy but delicious, and played fairly quietly whilst we all discussed his future and funding issues. All went well.


Feeling pretty confident we headed to the shopping centre to buy a pair of scissors and craft paper. Job done quickly. I found a pair of 3/4 pants for summer on sale and recklessly decided to try on a pair in size 10.


OMG they fit!!! Bought a pair in black and one in grey. Arrhythmia inducing stress must have benefits after all.



Yeah bitches SIZE TEN.


Cyclone wants a drink but doesn't like the choices available. Nearly melts down. Breathes instead. Chooses drink and skips off.


I really start pushing it and buy some henna to dye my tresses. Decide not to push it further.....until I walk past a cheap haircut place ("no appointment needed!, cash only!"). I stop. I ponder. Ah FUCK IT, I never have the time for a cut. My hair grows quickly so even if they stuff it up I'll get over it. It can't be worse than long, long, long boringness and borrowing Betty Boos hairclips. Cant it?


I breathe in deeply and let it out when I see my stylist is a stunning asian guy with an amazing precision cut I can't stop staring at. He chops about 4 inches out and layers it perfectly...and listens seriously when I beg him not to 'feather' it about my jawline. He cuts in my fringe (WAY BIG DEAL TO ME) better than I hoped.


Cyclone has sat still the entire time. Katy Perry blasts through the speakers and I notice his little head bobbing and feet tapping. "It's ok to dance baby" I tell him. So he does - not over the top but enough to have the entire place grinning. I don't bother wondering how an child with such anxiety can dance in front of strangers..I just drink him in.


I walk out with the cut of my dreams.....for THIRTY FIVE DOLLARS.


We spend the afternoon cutting, pasting and watching "The Deadly 60" (shudder) on T.V.


I spend nearly an hour having a great chat with my 18 year old who is right in the midst of her final year exams. She has just ACED one and we have high hopes of her getting into Nursing/Midwifery at university next year.


Betty calls me from daddy's house to say goodnight. Cyclone hops into bed clutching all his stuffed dogs and we talk about our Perfect Day. Cyclone starts getting upset and I hope a meltdown isn't on the way....he is crying because "I just want to be the best boy in the world but it's sooo hard". Crises averted when I ask him to take care of my childhood doll Molly.


I can't wipe the smile off my face. I feel so NORMAL. My head isn't pounding, my stomach isn't in knots and the vodka bottle sits unopened on the shelf.


So I have a drink for Celebration rather than Medicinal purposes and bop around the house channelling Spongebob Squarepants.





"It's the beeeest daaay evveeeer!"

The state of our hearts

The usual day routine in the Unperfect household are like this *no artistic licence*.

Breakfast isn't ready fast enough.
Breakfast is "wrong".
The cat is purring too loud.
Sesame Street is STUPID - get it OFF!
Don't want to get dressed.
Betty is dancing in front of the telly. *screaming and fights
Socks are stupid.
Screaming because I missed the ad for Cats and Dogs.
Doesn't want to get in the car, rides bike instead.
Fights to get in the car first.
Screaming because the seat belt won't go in.
Screaming because the traffic lights are red.

"I don't want to read, reading is STUPID, SUCKY and POO."

And so on and so forth.

Aspies are notoriously glass half full kinda kids. I'm ok with it, although it is very wearing my little guy really sparkles and those moments refill me through the negativity.


Last night sucked hard.


I was tired tired tired at 5pm. Usually I don't feel it until after the kids are in bed. Cyclones constant chatter somehow got too much so I set him up on the bench with a can of shaving cream (he loves writing and drawing in it) and asked "please, please don't talk for a little while honey - mummy's head is about to explode".

"Ok, mum - look at my hands!" I nod and smile.

He stops.

"I know it's my fault mum"


My heart freezes. What baby?


"I just know it's my fault - why you are feeling this, and I feel so sorry for you."






My heart cracked and fell onto the floor. Then I picked it up and jammed it back into my ribcage.


I looked up, faked a sneeze to cover the welly eyes but Cyclone had already taken off to watch The Simpsons.



Tomorrow is a Bran Nu Dae and we promise each other to be the best we ever can be, but I can't sleep because I'm frightened I'll hear those words again and worry about the state of my little boys heart.

Honesty and Accountability

I told everyone in web/blog world that I am giving up smoking because I have to be accountable to someone. I know lots of you are behind me (and a certain Glamourcidal lady needs to hear about it) and it's far easier to let yourself down than your cheer squad.

I also have a personal vendetta against anyone that says "oh I just stopped one day and never went back". Fucking LIARS. I didn't expect to fall pregnant as quickly as I did with Cyclone and had terrible trouble giving up. I really struggled....and I also felt unbelievable hatred towards myself that it wasn't that easy.


I ended up chopping down to one half in the morning and one half in the afternoon. I could do no more. EVERY, SINGLE person I spoke to about it said the same thing "as soon as I knew I was pregnant I didn't take another puff".


I had ONE work colleague that was so sympathetic and agreed she found it terrible - the guilt more than anything. Later on, 100% of these fuckers that breezily told me it was easy, actually confessed they either didn't give up at all (but cut down HEAPS) or it took them MONTHS to finally kick the cigarettes.

Pissed off doesn't even begin to describe the way I felt.

But I love my friends that are HONEST and tell me they still feel the cravings 9 years after they have given up, that they still miss it some days. That want to sit next to me and my stinky cigarette after a few beers and breathe in the aroma (foulness) before remembering why they stopped. Thank you for your honesty.


So I promise to give it to you balls and all ok? If I stumble I will tell you, when I don't I'm gonna SHOUT IT TO YOU and when I get to the end I will thank you from the bottom of my heart.





So far - I got through 2 days Cold Turkey.
Day 3 I "patched up" with Nicorette Patches but ended up have 2 after a particularly horrific day with Cyclone.

I realised that I just wasn't prepared enough. I realised that smoking is just about the ONLY time I have to myself. If mummy is out the back having a cigarette the kids know they have to keep away (and for some bloody reason they listen). In fact I know that is the reason I took it back up again when Cyclone was 4 months old - no one was going to hand me a screaming baby if mummy had a fag hanging out her mouth.


I have to replace that. Maybe I will go and lock myself in the toilet the old fashioned way instead? I also NEVER smoke outside my home (unless it's a night on the town), so I'm used to getting home from being out all day and heading straight out the back for a ciggie. How do I replace THAT habit? I seem to be ok going for hours and hours without one - as long as I know I can have one at the end of the day. Hhhmmm.


So at this point I am allowing myself 5 per day - UNTIL I can get a bit more jiggy with it.


Today I went back to my old house to get my Allan Carr book which really REALLY makes a difference and I will read some of it each night before bed.


Let's see how the next week goes.....EEEeeeeeKKS!

If you have any tips - share them won't you pleeeease?