The stuff they don't tell you

Babies are cute. They're sweet. They're lovely.

That's not the problem. 

The problem is, that they're also screamy, stinky and unpredictable. 

People don't tell you this. 

When your pregnant and 'glowing'. When you're excited and smiling about all the possibilities. You buy the tiniest, sweetest, pale coloured outfits. You beam.

When people ask questions, you say things like 'I'll just go with the flow' or 'let's see what happens'.

Then, this thing arrives. No-one tells you about pooping yourself in labour, or the blood. So MUCH blood. No-one tells you that breastfeeding HURTS. 

Where's the flippin' magic? The Huggies T.V.  ad theme music? The Egyptian cotton hospital robe? 

Huh? Where's that stuff?

No one tells you of the reality.

You know why? 

Some mothers have been known to eat their young.

Cause you'd most likely throw yourself down a couple of flights of stairs screaming "Geronimo!!!".

But seriously.

I love my son. He's the best thing that ever happened to me. (Except maybe that time I won a free Mars Bar by looking inside the wrapper!) Joking!

The day he arrived, I couldn't have been more taken with him. The pure love and joy that I experienced was overwhelming. 

Yadda yadda yadda.. 

All that stuff.

I think what has me writing today, is the spew.

You heard me. 

The vomit.

My precious bundle is now a toddler. He is currently experiencing his second vomiting bug in under a month. 

I WISH someone had told me about this stuff. This is the reality I needed to be aware of.

I can think of my very own T.V. ad right now...

Pumpkin anyone?

*Open scene. Mother and baby laying on soft, clean carpet. Natural lighting. Both smiling*

"Oh darling, my time with you is so precious"
*Baby giggles*

*Projectile vomits corn and Spaghetti Bolognese all over mothers white top*

*Slowly fades out with mother grabbing towels to mop up vomit, crying, as baby crawls through it, continuing to vomit.*

"Must be love.. love...love..." Playing softly in the back ground.

*End scene*

In conclusion, I'd like to say...

Babies are cute and sweet. They're lovely.

But if you've got the choice, live in a carpet free house.

Bianca
:)

Christmas Gift Guide for an 18month old.

Christmas.

It's everywhere right now.
Seriously. Everywhere.

I am not a Grinch. I'm not. Maybe I just don't love it the way others do?

But when Christmas starts in October, or sometimes earlier, it kind of drives me crazy.

We're having a massive holiday/get together this year with my side of the family. I remember when we first started organising, making calls, discussing details. It all seemed like it was going to be SO much fun.

Now it's getting closer, I'm having second thoughts.

Toddler on my hip,  I ponder. Camping? With a mobile human? By the water? And road?
Am I going to get any sleep at all? Probably not. Will I be constantly chasing my running, outdoorsy kid away from the water and roads? Yes. And when I'm not, thankfully my husband and family will do it for me.

 

This time last year. My innocent, clean little bundle!

Then I asked myself... Will he have the time of his life?

Yes. I do not doubt that our dirty, loud, cheeky son, will have the most amazing time.





I have also started thinking about what we should get him for Christmas. I don't think he'll really know what is going on Christmas Day. I'm sure he'll be excited, but he does get excited over having his shoes put on. So it should be quite the happy occasion.

Here is my list of possible ideas. Shall we call it Christmas Gift Guide for an 18month old? Perhaps I should say 18 month old boy? Although that seems a little off in my books.

The filthy 'Cyclone Eli'

- Gravel. In any container. Preferably with dirt on it.
- Mud. Just mud.
- Dry dog food and an empty cereal box.
- An ice cream container of pegs.
- Some kind of smart phone/ipad/mp3 player. (has to be in working order, or it'll be no fun at all to smash)
- Bottles of water, with loosely tightened lids, all sitting on clean carpet.
- Power cords.
- Old shovel.
- A banana.
- Old shoes. Lots of them.


I think that just about covers it.


What are you planning on getting your children for Christmas? 

The burden of caring.

People don't realise how much their existence means to others.

I have moved a few times now. To different towns and cities. I've had to say good-bye to many friends and make many more.

It is hard to explain what it's like to care about every single person you create a friendship with. I have found it a burden. Something I cannot switch off.

For many years, making friends with neighbours was something I didn't do. I was a uni student, then a brand new teacher. I wasn't confident, or charismatic enough for people to want to deal with me knocking at the front door, introducing myself. Would they like me? Would I like them?

Then, we moved into this quiet little street in South Bathurst. I had just picked up my very first puppy. Possum was divine. She was the tiniest, fluffiest, sweetest little thing. She came from such a nice home. (I still think of the breeders and their children, often.)... anyway, I'm getting side tracked.
So, I stepped out of the car, with my 1.1kg dog in a bulk Allens Redskins box and walked to go inside. I hear this voice. "Hi there! And what have you got there!?" My across the road neighbour, who I hadn't met (having only lived in the street for a few weeks), was warmly reaching out to me, to come over. We had received a card in the mail days earlier, welcoming us to the street, so it seemed appropriate.

Di was and still is, one of the warmest people I know. She loves her cats, her dogs who have passed away, her husband and her two children. From that moment on, Di and I became friends. An unlikely couple, as she was retired and I was only 22. We shared long chats, wine and the occasionally a BBQ gathering. I still consider Di a very good friend.

She was the beginning of my love for new people. I had never been very brave, until Di. When I realised I had been missing out on all the good people, I had to try harder.

I often wonder if the people since then, think of me, the way I think of them. Fond memories. Kind thoughts. Best wishes.

That question was answered just a few weeks ago, when a dear ex-neighbour named Zel, called me. She was/is a housebound retiree who I used to visit as often as possible. We didn't live next door to her for long, but she sends us Christmas and Easter cards, every year. She asks after Possum & Ruby. She was sad to hear that our rabbits are no longer with us. A caring, beautiful soul.

I must remember to take some fancy cheese to her, next time we're in Bathurst.

As I tear up, thinking of the people I have be-friended, lost and sometimes just drifted away from, I am trying to think of this burden as a blessing. So that everyone who has come into contact with me, can know that they have been loved.


For exactly who they are.

N is for Nostalgia ... and Nutella.

Marty and I have been in negotiations on the prospect of a second child. He agrees that it will be difficult adding number two to the brood.

I have made threats to go on strike, as a parent in general. That is, unless conditions improve, before non-existent second child arrives. More toilet breaks, better pay (some pay!?) and maybe some annual leave?

For the past four days, I've had a pretty sick kid, which hasn't helped with the idea of having more children. Picture me scrubbing poo & vomit from all surfaces. Washing all the linen and the clothes. Feeling queasy being around my own child. Doing this with two children? Oh gawd...

During this time... I may... MAY have thought about how nice it would be to rewind time. You know, back to when I wasn't a parent yet. Fewer responsibilities, explosive diarrhoea and projectile vomiting in my life.

While I was camped on the lounge, with a lethargic, clingy toddler, I began to look through old photos.

This is where the nostalgia came in....

Will I ever bed jump again? Ruin hotel beds, one crushed wheel at a time? Bruise my knees, hips, arms, for the sake of a photo? Oh, I hope so!

Will I ever pose like a moron, just for shits and giggles? Why am I even asking that? Of course I will..

 

Sometimes I wonder, could I have done more with the skills and qualifications I attained? Should I have done wilder things? More important things? 

Or was dancing the kangaroo moves, rocking out the lawn mower and bed jumping enough? 

All I know is... Vomit or no vomit, poo or no poo...

I am the luckiest woman alive.

Never make plans.

It has always baffled me how these clean, well dressed mothers, with 2 or more children, can leave the house during the day. They can get things done. All the while, looking composed and organised.

I wonder Do they drug their children? Why aren't the small ones crying uncontrollably? What's her secret?

It amazes me. With one. Yes, just one child, I am trapped. I'm here in the house, awaiting his mood to shift. His eyes open and a smile to appear. Good luck with that.

Life revolves around sleep.

I am pretty sure that it's a newbie thing. Us first time Mums, we think the sky will fall if the kid doesn't have his nap. That we couldn't possibly hold him out any longer, or his scream will shatter all the windows of the local shops.

In actual fact... we're the only ones who are bothered by this. It's really quite reasonable to consider, that if we left the house, the child may not lose his shit. The child might be fine...and if he's not.

No-one else cares.

So, right now I'm annoyed. 

I had plans. I had a whole day of organised activities to complete. 

- Gym.

- Fruit shop.

- Birthday party

Due to small, cranky human, falling asleep, right when I want to leave!

STUCK

*grumble grumble grumble*

Ok, maybe I'm feeling a bit sick, sad and sorry for myself. That's probably not helping.

Anyone else stuck at home on this sunny Spring day?

 

 

Wordless Wednesday - Snowtime, family fun.

The view

Wake up, Daddy!

Off for a bush walk.

Tobogganing with Mummy.

My first encounter with snow.

Linking up with

Two week diary of a Mother.

Moved house. Cried over so many kind people helping. Overwhelming.

Cried about mess, boxes, rubbish and clothes everywhere.

Giggled with glee over new house. All the pretty. All the space.

Fought with husband. 'Cause I could.

Spent days/weeks, looking for important, yet
  hard to find items in garage.

Had silent fight with previous landlord over petty cleaning and curtain replacement.

Lost my tiny Pomeranian doggy. For almost an hour.

Cried again.

Got her back.

Cried some more.

Worked a couple of times.

Fought with husband again.

Visitors came.

Cleaned.

Full nights of sleep - 2.

Clothing changes -  Me: 20 Eli:35

Drink bottles broken - 2.

Bruises - 10

Tantrums - Me: 75 Eli: 20 Marty: 10

Nose bleeds - 5

Deep bubble baths - 2

It's an understatement for me to say that I have been stressed out this past fortnight.

Then, I looked at this cheeky face. It fixes all the worries, all the time.

Time to breathe and stay in the moment. 

All the rest can wait.

1

I like turtles.

Today, I galloped down the hallway, loudly clicking my tongue to make the sound of hooves.

When I got to the end, I let out a a high pitched NEEEEEEEIGH!

Shortly after, it clicked. 

That's why my son is so weird.

How could I expect anything else?

Being silly on Daddy's shoulders.

Then I began thinking about the many moments of strange behaviour that go on in this house.

Marty and I have recently taught Eli the Ferris Beuller's Day off BOW WOW, Chicka-chickaaa sound effect. He does a tickatickeee sound. We are SO proud each time, it's a little pathetic.

My Mum asked me Shouldn't you teach him something useful!?

My response Isn't that useful!?

I'm serious.

My Dad has taught me many interesting lessons and phrases throughout the years. I believe that they've made me a better person. And a better Mother. (A fun one anyway!)

Crawling around with Poppy.

Wise words from my Dad include (but are not limited to):

You can fart five times before you shit yourself. - Extremely valuable.

Is that your head, or are you wearing it for a bet? - Great insult for people I don't like.

Don't talk to common people. Oh, Dad.

The things our parents 'teach' us are so important.

It's the funny quotes, silly games and interesting stories that'll remain in our memories.

My thought? Let go of worrying about what children need to know - and just give them your time. They'll learn anyway!

Whole30 Bianca style.

10 days ago, I had an aim.
An aim to stop food from owning me.

I started the Whole30 slightly blind and a little ill-informed.
I felt really inspired to jump on the clean eating band wagon.

I have eaten a lot of really nutritious food this past 10 days. Marty and I, we have both enjoyed it so much.

Stuffed capsicums, zucchini noodles, roast vegies and nut butter. So much variety and so many flavours.

Around day 5, I started questioning things.
Why do I have to give up legumes? I love corn and beans.

Hang on.. I am an adult. An individual. Not a sheep.

Corn was part of my next meal.

On day 7 and my lovely Mum offered to make me bacon & eggs. I dry heaved.

I cooked porridge. No brown sugar or sultanas. Delicious.

That day, I made a few decisions.

I will continue being more creative with our meals. Eating more protein and vegetables.

I will eat legumes, dairy and some grains. (Brown rice, cous cous, oats).


The main thing is no sugar for me.

So.

I am now moving through to the next phase of the Whole30.

The 'Bianca-will-make-up-her-own-mind-about-food-choices-and-not-follow-crack-pot diets' diet.

So there's my update!

Back to blog posts about baby related stuff, no doubt.

Whole30 progress report. Days 2-5

Days 2-3: The hangover.

Feeling really hungry and craving dairy.
Would kill someone for a glass of milk, or a scoop of creamy yoghurt. I can't give up yet! It's only the beginning.

It's only 30 days. 

I keep distracting myself and snacking on good things. Have probably eaten far too much. Feeling bloated and awfully fat.

I thought I was either going to throw up or pass out, through lack of sugar.

Over the past 2 days, I have realised that I am actually pathetic.


Days 4-5: Kill all the things.

Keep almost eating food I shouldn't. I am SO attached to food. It makes me all the more determined.
I have a really short fuse and Marty is bearing the brunt of the snapping.

Food is tasting so much better than I ever remember. I believe it's because I have been killing my taste buds with junk.

Our meals have been creative, filling and delicious.

I could really go a choc-fudge sundae, though.

The only reason I am still awake, is because I just ate 2 oranges.

Onwards and upwards!

Good-bye Sugar: A letter to my cravings.

Sugar. I'm sorry. I really am.

But I've decided that you're not a good friend to have. You bring out the worst in me.

You're the first I'm telling about this, so I'd like you to keep it from grains and dairy, until I get a chance to chat to legumes. It's a tough thing I'm doing here, but I know you'll all understand, once these 30 days are up.

You have been there for me, many, many times. It's often you and grains that get me through a long day at work, a headache, or a bad night with Eli. But I can't keep using you like this! You deserve better. I deserve better. It's time for change.

Today, is the first day. It's the first of many in a new way of viewing food.

Eating when I'm sad? No more.
When I'm angry, tired or bored? 
NO. MORE.

I'm cutting you off.

I'm cutting you off until I learn to live without you, then maybe. Maybe, you can come back.
Not the way you're here now.

In a healthy, normal-portion-size-occasional-eating kinda way.

Now, I'm happy to let legumes know, cause we're not that close, but I'm a little too scared to tell grains and dairy myself. So, if you could do it, I'd really appreciate it. Tell dairy I am just devastated it has come to this. Especially cheese.

Cheers for that Sugar. I really am sorry.

Talk to you soon. Or not so soon.

Bianca


Day 1 - So what's the big deal?

Today is the first day of my first attempt at the Whole30. (I say first attempt, because a lot of people do it more than once!)

I am feeling positive about killing the hold my cravings have on me and my energy levels. I used to think I did not have any cravings, then I took a look at what I was eating to keep myself awake, entertained, or from crying!

I choose unhealthy food.

I love healthy food. I just don't choose it.

Now I'm forced to.

Wish me luck.

It's going to be rough.

Linking up with:

A mother hen from the beginning

Beware of the rambling nostalgia post.

I experienced a pretty amazing childhood.

The most memorable part of that time in my life, were the animals.

I would have to say, out of the many different pets I've had - The humble chook was my favourite.

Toby the Alpaca.

Even though the alpaca was fun to walk, ducks were awesome to wade around in the dams with and the ferrets were fun to play with...
My fondest memories surround the time we hatched out some gorgeous, tiny chickens.

I was immediately in love with the tiny, wonky necked, bug eyed, Rhode Island Red. I named her 'Cheap cheep', (cause she didn't cost anything and she said cheeep a lot.)


She was my best buddy. I had a warm light box over at the laundry and I'd spend a lot of time with this chook. Probably too much time. She would sit on my shoulder and eat the flies that buzzed around in summer. She followed me everywhere.

Mum and Dad's current favourite

My favourite part about Cheap Cheep, was her wonky walk. She would walk like an emu and look at everything with her head turned to the side. We all joked that dad over-heated her egg a little.

As I got older, I didn't forget about Cheap cheap. In highschool, my brother Isaac and I hosted a wedding, with a wheat cake. Her husband was very hard to catch and they didn't stand near each other, but as far as we were concerned, it was true love.


I will always remember that chook of mine. She was my baby and I was her mother hen. I even remember what day her birthday was.

My childhood memories are so rich and clear for me. This is just one of so many. Thanks for reading and sharing in one of my most cherished.

Married to an animal lover

Linking up with:

I must confess: Green-eyed-puppy daydreams.

I must confess - I daydream quite a bit....and not in a cool Nina Proudman kind of way.
Allow me to share the back story of one particular day dream.

Every afternoon, my two fur babies play together in the backyard.

They are hilarious to watch. Ruby, with whatever toy she can find, growling and poking Possum with it. Possum takes the bait and attacks her, playfully.



They are off in their own little world, full of joy!

It's funny that only yesterday, I noticed the dogs that live either side of our place, barking. They barked and jumped accusing my dogs of having too much fun. They were essentially being the fun police. This got me thinking.

Do my dogs know just how lucky they are? Are they rubbing it in the other dog's faces?



Then my imagination ran wild, as it often does.



Scene opens in backyard -
*Ruby walks down the back steps and turns to Possum.*
Ruby: "Yo, Poss. Let's go eat our breakfast right next to the fence. We can see how annoyed that big dog gets."
Possum: "Awesome idea Ruby!" 
*Both carry their morning chicken neck to the fence, eating with their bums in the air, rear ends facing the other dog, through the fence.*
Dog next door: "Woof. Woof. Woof."

Dogs can't talk, Bianca. You idiot.

I think they know just what they're doing.

Linking up with:

Failing at food.

I will admit right now. I thought I had this 'solids' thing all worked out. Notice the past tense?

 I saw this today....

Oh, no. That's just what is going on here.

It all started so wonderfully. Eli would eat anything. Everything I served up, he demolished. I thought, WOOH! This is fun!


I cooked for him.

He loved it.

I let him get messy.

He loved it.



Then the sleeping stopped. The precious nights of precious sleep, they were gone! I pushed through for a month, before seeking medical advice.

Hello Lactose intolerance. *insert forehead slap*

What now!?

Lactose-free formula, cheese & yoghurt. Scanning packages for ingredients. Only after realising that explosive bouts of diarroeah were due to eating things he shouldn't!

Phew, sleep came back.

Gradually, food variety decreased.

His appetite decreased.

Tonsilitis. Antibotics.  2 weeks later. Ear infection. Antibiotics.  
Bye-bye sleep!

I feel like a failure. He hasn't eaten a vegetable knowingly, in at least a week! (thank goodness for thermomix vegie hiding)

I will soldier on. He will get better.

And maybe, when he is well for more than a few weeks at a time, I won't have a fussy eater anymore?

Pleeeeeeease....?

Dear Time.

Dear Time,

I wish you'd stop sometimes. I just wish you'd atleast slow the hell down! I mean, c'mon - how come when my son has a 3 hour nap and I'm enjoying some me time, suddenly all the time is gone and he's awake again.
Yet, when it's 5:15, he's just finished dinner & we've got bathtime in 15 minutes, it feels like the day will never end!


I want you to slow down, so I don't miss the little smiles and giggles. The steps, the cuddles and all of the funny little drunk-baby-german words. (My latest favourite is "Tisses" - followed by a sloppy, open mouthed 'Waaaaaaah") It feels like, one minute, I was holding a tiny, sweet boy in my arms. As his little chest rose and fell, over and over - I thought those moments could last forever. Now, I'm struggling to button up clothes around his chubby, pre-walker legs. His alien-sized melon, doesn't fit hats anymore, and the beanies just squeeze over. That cheeky grin shows me he's still that same sweet boy, he's just not so tiny.

How'd that happen!?

How'd the past year become a blur?

So, write back and sort this out please. Give me a plan. How do I make these moments pause for a bit?

Yours,

Annoyed.

Bianca


P.S. Do you know the guy who grows money trees?


 Linking up with:

It's ok to get away.

I am a firm believer that every Mum needs a break.
It doesn't make you a bad mother if you spend time away from your offspring.

I recently had my first solo break from Eli since he was born. I planned it, spread my love and my time around carefully. Ofcourse I would have liked to see more people, spend more time. But, I felt that I did exactly what I wanted with the time I had.

I called it my baby-free-long-weekend. I actually visited several babies & children, so this wasn't true! But I could give my attention and my cuddles to those munchkins & not be worrying about my wee one emptying cupboards, licking floors or escaping houses!

It was a very strange experience at first. I packed, I waved goodbye to my gorgeous men and drove away, knowing they'd have a great time together.

There was no baby in the back.

I turned the music up loud and sang away.

Marty wasn't beside me to chat to. (Unlike our Noosa trip, when Eli was 3 months old! There were some serious tears from me, leaving that time!)

I got bored really quickly. I rang every person I could think of. My iPod went flat, I lost decent radio reception for far too long. After what felt like forever, I arrived!

The weekend was a blur after that. Highlights included -

Vegan restaurant for dinner. Mmm

Sleeping until 8am, because I wanted to.

Going to and from friend's houses whenever I wanted.

Baby cuddles.

Pint sized tour guide, showing me her totally amazing house.

Karaoke!

All of the delicious food and drink.

Amazing orange cake & BEST milo ever.

On my way home, I thought about my next solo getaway. Maybe Cairns? ;)

Tell me about your solo getaways - make me jealous!

Renting Shmenting

Martin and I have lived in 7 different rental properties in our 7.5years together.

It's either impressive or sad. I'm going with both.

We've moved for many different reasons. Some very grown up, like - moving out of town for a job. Or - landlord has sold our current home.

Some not so grown up, like 'But I really want a puppy!', or - the carpet feels funny.

Either way, we've done it. We've packed our stuff up, shipped it off and unpacked it again, somewhere new.

We're currently looking at moving again. 38 week pregnant Bianca, in July last year, said "I'M NEVER MOVING AGAIN!"... But Mummy Bianca, with an adventurous and very mobile baby, well... Well, she wants a bigger place. Where my dogs can't see through the fences to bark at leaves falling from the trees. And my thermomix can have a home of its own, on the bench. Not on an old piece of wood, on the stove top!

Despite my long list of rental properties, (and yes, there were at least another 3 or 4 more before Martin hit the scene) - I am very easily pleased! I used to have a massive list of all the things I NEEDED my house to have, then I gave in cause the bath was a cool colour, or the back yard had a swing seat. 

But these days, it's short & simple.

- Must have a bath.

- Decent sized kitchen.

- Heating (seems a no brainer, but I've gone without it before!)

- Storage. 

- Enclosed backyard.

What have a missed?

What's on your list?

Blood, sweat and tea towels

I'm going to start with the moral of the story:

Don't let my husband do housework.

It all began on a happy, sunshine filled day (I lie. I felt like crap and it was overcast. Again. 9 degrees outside) I left the house cranky, because it was a laundry-filled, feral-fest! I grunted at my husband - who has the man flu, and walked out with Mr cute butt.

We visited his Nanna and Poppy and had a lovely time. On the way back into town, I had jobs to do. I was on the phone to my attractive, intelligent sister in-law and I kept getting missed calls from Marty. I finally gave in and hung up, to contact him. I assumed he wanted take away for dinner.

I got this text message:

I have cut my hand open on the fan.

Then another:

Come home. I think I need stitches.

I frantically rang him, thinking he was dying. Of course he answers the phone cheerily and says "It's fine! Just a little blood. You should look at it though."

I drove down the driveway and was greeted by my blood covered husband, holding frozen peas against his right hand. Smiling. Yes, smiling. Freak. I immediately told him to get in the car and I dropped him at the emergency entrance. (Personally, I wouldn't have put frozen peas on a cut, but whatever!)

Eli and I went home, because it can be a long wait and he needed dinner.

I walked into the house.

I saw washing baskets and I smiled. He'd been folding!

Then I saw blood spatter on the walls.

On the clothes.

On the floor.

On the fan.

FAR OUT. Seriously?

He couldn't wipe any of that up?

He knocks on the door, 20 minutes later. Had run home. Cause, that's what you do when you've just gotten stitches.

"I didn't even have local anesthetic!"

*insert Peter Griffin sigh*

Love that man o' mine!

365 days of the Tiny Love.

At 10:40pm on Monday the 8th of July 2013...
A star was born. A twinkly, shiny, bright star.
He lit up our whole world.

I couldn't believe that I could love anyone or anything as much as I loved him. From the very second he was placed on my chest, I knew he was mine. I remember the first thing I said to him "Hello there, we've been waiting for you!' as he cried his very first cries. They were strong and sweet and music to my ears. (Imagine a bagpipe, playing heavy metal) 

That beautiful, wrinkly little bundle of love, soon grew into a bigger, cuter version. He loved to smile. (Still does!)

This same tiny Love has made me smile and laugh, almost every day. Some days he has made me cry. 

Just when I think I can't love him any more, my heart grows a little bigger to fit some extra in there.

As he grows and learns, I watch in amazement.
We made that. We made him.
And he thinks we are the best things he's ever seen.
That smile he gives. It's just for us. That sloppy, disgusting kiss I receive on my cheek. All mine.
I am his Mum. He is my Bubbin. My tiny Love. The best thing I have ever done.

Happy 1st Birthday, you little rascal. Don't ever stop being cheeky.

Linking up with #IBOT:

Wordless Wednesday - My fur babies.

First there was Possum

2 years later, there was Ruby

Instant friends

Quirky girl

Fluffnut

Loves to walk

Oozes the love

Just be silly and have fun.

A friend sent me this quote last night: -

"Oh my God, what if you wake up some day, and you're 65, or 75,

 and you never got your memoir or novel written; 

or you didn't go swimming in warm pools and oceans all those years, 

because your thighs were jiggly and you had a nice big comfy tummy; 

or you were just so strung out on perfectionism and people-pleasing that you forgot to have a big, juicy, creative life, of imagination and radical silliness and staring off into space, like when you were a kid? It's going to break your heart. Don't let this happen."

- Anne Lamott

This quote spoke to me. It made a few things click.

Why am I focusing on all of the things I should be/or not be doing?

My weight? Who cares... Let's go swimming!

Why didn't I dance at my beautiful friend Renae's wedding? I'm sure the crowd would have loved my kangaroo, shopping trolley and whipper snipper moves on the dance floor.

I am anxious day and night about things I cannot change.

What if I wake up one day and ask myself  "What have you done with your life? Have you lived?"

I don't ever want to ask myself that question. I want to be too busy living life, to have time to question it.

I'm going to just be silly and have fun.

That's all.

Official complaint for item #4782

Dear Baby Store manager,

I recently purchased a tiny human from your store. (Well, it was last July. But that's recent, right?)
Upon unwrapping him from his packaging and reading the instruction manual, I was pleased to see that he was gorgeous. This soft little smooshy specimen. I held him, as he was quiet and cuddly.

After a few days, the problems began. I found that he was possibly malfunctioning. I read the manual, but no-where did it describe how to stop this tiny human from crying for no reason. It also didn't tell me how to stop him from leaking fluids!

Hmmm, what's this?

I finally came to terms with these things and got into a good routine of feed, play sleep with this tiny human. He was even sleeping well at night. Things were looking up. I decided he was a good purchase after all.

Suddenly, he decided to start waking up for longer. What was I supposed to do now? There was no-where in the manual that explained what to do with him during this wakeful time. He also started fussing while feeding. That was the only thing I could count on, until now.

I got used to this and once again, was happy with my purchase.

On and on, this kept up. New things happening all the time, with my tiny human. Having many moments of buyers remorse and then realising that yes, I did want to keep him.

I am writing to tell you that you must be more accurate and detailed with the manual.

I am currently dealing with this tiny human speaking gibberish (that I can't understand, because there's nothing in the manual!!), biting me, emptying all of my cupboards and climbing out of the bath. 

This isn't acceptable!

It's very lucky that I'm attached to this tiny human, because I'd be returning him for a full refund, otherwise! 

Consider this a formal complaint about the terrible manual. I hope that by the time I get to my second, third and fourth tiny human purchases, you'll have improved things!

   

Yours sincerely,

Bianca