July 2014Life Love and Hiccups: July 2014
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Thursday, 31 July 2014

Morning Has Broken And So Has Mummy!

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So some of us are never going to be morning people and it's about time breakfast cereal companies woke up to that fact and created an ad that caters to those of us who fall into that category.

Enough already of the happy kids eating their breakfast whilst cheerily chatting about their day ahead. Enough of the bright eyed pony tailed mums pouring juice for their fully clothed offspring and actually sitting down and eating breakfast with their smiling husband.

Here's the thing about the family in those ads - I think the kids have had a lobotomy, the husband is drunk and the Mum is high on cough syrup... put that in your pipe and choke on it.

OK a little too harsh, I'll pay that. But I still want to pinch the kids, punch the husband and cut off that bloody perfect pony tail with a pair of dirty kitchen shears.

Why not come to my house for a morning and film the real deal? So it probably won't entice anyone to actually buy your breakfast cereal but Mum's around the world will totally high five you and promise to not vomit next time they see your ad.

My children are clearly not morning people. I mean der, they were baked in the belly of an anti morning mum. As if they had a chance!!!

Why just this morning my youngest child stormed downstairs and without even a hint of a "Good Morning Mum", he threw a shoe at one brother, kicked the other in the nuts and fell into a heap on the floor in front of the heater.

Where's that scene in your perfect morning cereal ads?

We spent far too long looking for sports shoes, the new sports shoes we bought to replace the sports shoes we couldn't find last week. I was going ape shit over incomplete homework, dirty milked filled dishes being put in the dishwasher to drip all over the clean dishes that no one but me ever bothers to empty, and all the while screaming at someone to feed the flipping dogs already so they stop trying to dig a hole into the cupboard to get to the bin because they are STARVING!.

The bird was squawking, the husband did the Harry Holt for work, we couldn't for the life of us find a library book and a sports note I signed the night before...

and TWO children were now nursing bruised nuts!

We make it out the door to do car pool, only 10 minutes late but all feet had shoes on them. We are nearly run off the road by an asshole in a hotted up 4WD with wheels that belong on tractors. Hair is unbrushed, nails are grubby and toast with jam is dropped face down on the car seat.

To top it all off the only child with pain free nuts had forgotten his assignment and tells me we need to go home to get it.

So please understand when I tell you that your sunshiningoutoftheirbutt actors in their perfectly organised clean kitchens are really not making me feel better about myself and I also doubt very much that a bowl full of your cereal will turn me into a morning lover or make my non morning children smile. In fact I know it wont as I very nearly shoved a bowlful of your cereal up one cranky little turd's bum this morning and there were no smiles... from anyone!

Morning has broken people... and so has Mummy!

So anyway... how's your day going? 
Would you like Valium in your coffee?
How's mornings at your place?

Wednesday, 30 July 2014

Are You a Natural Talker or a Listener?

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Some people are naturally chatty individuals. They have a gift in which they can just open up their mouth and let their thoughts and feelings flow out without overthinking the situation. They are comfortable enough to talk to those close to them as well as those they have just met.

I admire that about those kind of people. At times I even envy it.

I'm a chatter and holy smokes I can out talk fish underwater, but I am not very good at talking about the stuff that really matters. You know - the personal stuff, the stuff that sometimes one really needs to talk about.

I guess that is why I love to write. It gives me a chance to say the things that catch in my throat and never quite make it out.

I'm a good listener though. Wow that sounds a bit wanky doesn't it. But it's true, I actually enjoy listening to people talk about things that are close to their heart and I can sense a need to speak when there is one.

Listening is comfortable to me but I'm not very good at opening up in return.

I will freely speak of love and passions, of hopes and dreams. I love to retell stories and am even happy to talk about the 101 ways I managed to humiliate myself on any given day. But ask me to talk to you about my problems, my heartache or my fears and I clam up and change the flow of conversation to something I am more comfortable with.

I worry about sharing some of the stuff in my head. I worry for so many reasons. If I say it out loud I could give that fear enough energy to actually happen. If I say it out loud I can never take it back if I happen to change my mind. If I say it out loud you might judge me.

Sometimes I have the words at the tip of my tongue and ready to spill, but the person I am speaking to misses the cue for any number of reasons. They are distracted by interruptions, too busy to talk right now, or sometimes just too busy talking themselves.

At other times I have begun to talk but sensed the discomfort of the other person and so I swallow the words I am about to say. The more words you swallow, the harder it becomes to ever let them out again and so a behaviour is formed that often results in you becoming a serial listener.

It's not necessarily a bad thing, especially if you have another way of getting those words out, like I do with writing. But what about the people who don't have that outlet? How do they get to be heard?

I have been chatting about this to some friends recently and getting their take on it. One friend pointed out to me that people are often hurt by the lack of a two way conversation. If someone is always opening up to you and sharing their feelings, should you not show a mutual trust and return the honour?

I had never thought of it that way before.

If you are a natural listener, I urge you to practice speaking up more. Find someone you are comfortable with and let it all out as you deserve to be heard too.

If you are a natural talker and notice a one sided conversation, I urge you to share the secret of your gift with others and encourage them to open up to you in return. Oh and keep an eye out for the cues.

Are you a natural talker or a listener?


Tuesday, 29 July 2014

Regrets. We All Have Them... Don't We?

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When I hear someone say that they have lived a life where they regret nothing, not a single thing, I struggle to believe them. I want to, I really do - but I find it really hard.

How can you get through your whole life without having just one single regret?

I'm not suggesting that everyone has creepy skeletons in their closets that they are hiding from the world, but surely there is something, at least one single moment that you look back upon and it creates a feeling of sadness or missed opportunity or unease?

If you can't think of anything right now that you regret yourself, fear not, I have a whole bucket full and I'd be happy to lend you some.

The thing I have come to learn about regrets is that to avoid them having any power over you, you can't just stuff them away in a box in a dusty corner of your memory, because they will resurface. You need to deal with them, acknowledge them and lay them to rest once and for all.

One of the saddest things I can imagine would be to be on your deathbed and have those regrets sneak out and steal your final moments, taking the place of what should be happy memories and reflections.

I don't want that to happen and although I am not planning on going anywhere in a hurry, I have begun working my way through my regrets, one by one.

I'm a bit of a ritual kind of gal. Whether it be a cup of coffee in the same chair every morning whilst I write my to do list, a daily affirmation or washing away any negativity from the day in the shower. These little rituals bring me comfort and so I have created my own little ritual around regrets and events that just kind of piss me off and need to be dealt with.

I write them down on a piece of paper and I allow myself to think about them for just a little while. What is it that shrouds that memory in regret? How does it make me feel? Can I fix it? Can I change the outcome? Why am I pissed off? Can I say what needs to be said or should I just let it go?

Then I make a decision whether to bring that regret or situation into the present and do something with it or simply let it go. When I have made up my mind I burn the piece of paper and I release the regret and the anger and any power it has over me from that moment forward.

It's a bit airy fairy. I know that and it's totally not for everyone. But it seems to be working for me for I am becoming less regretful, angry or resentful about 'stuff'.

My regrets aren't huge or life altering but they don't need to be because the thing about regrets is that they don't need to be big to leave a stain on your past.

One of my biggest regrets is not dancing with my Dad at our wedding. I know right, who doesn't dance with their Dad on their wedding day? I danced next to him but not with him and so it's a regret I have neatly packaged up and stored away with all the others.

Others like;

The regret that Carl and I didn't go travelling when we were younger.

The regret about not staying in contact with a childhood friend.

The regret I didn't persevere with breastfeeding.

The regret that I did not take my Nanna up on her gardening lessons whilst she was still alive.

The numerous regrets for times that I didn't stand up for myself for whatever reason.

The regret that I allowed work to take up too much time when my boys were babies.

See there is nothing earth shattering and some of them I can actually do something about, or I can change moving forward, and others that I can do nothing more than just let them go.

And so that is what I intend to do, I'm just letting them go as life is too short to hang on to them any more.

Those who profess a life of no regrets - how do they make it all the way to the end without collecting at least one? Is it even possible or have they just learned how to let them go?

Do you think it is possible to live with no regrets?
Do you have any regrets you've been hanging on to?

Monday, 28 July 2014

At The End Of Our Road

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I currently have two little photography nuts on my hands which pleases me to no end.

It's a real joy when you discover that you share an interest in something with your kids and I now understand how my hubby felt when the boys fell for the other great love of his life - the ocean and surfing.

My two older boys were both lucky enough to receive cameras for their most recent birthdays.

Sam scored a Nikon point and shoot which is perfect for him to experiment with and the whole family put in and brought Kai a Canon DSLR as a special gift for his 13th birthday. They are both thirsty to learn what they can about photography, although Sam's concentration lasts about as long as a box of Paddle Pops does in our house... I'm guessing you can gather that is isn't very long.

At the bottom of our road is a path that disappears into the bush and leads to a waterfall.

My childhood home is only a few blocks away from where I live now, so this waterfall is a place I have visited since I was a little girl.

There is something magical and mysterious about this place and often when there is a full moon you can hear chanting and drums from within in the bush late at night. Apparently it is a local coven of white witches that go there to perform their full moon rituals.

Whether this is true or not, I don't know, I wouldn't be game enough to go there at night to find out for myself. I am happy just listening to the sound of them from the safety of my bed. But during daylight, it truly is the most spectacular place for a walk and a perfect place for the boys to practise their photography.

A lot of the scenes from the movie - Tomorrow When The War Began were filmed here, but despite it's claim to fame, this place still remains a well kept secret.

Here's some photos I took yesterday when a friend and our kids went for a wander into the bush at the end of our road with our cameras.

Do you share any interests with your kids?
Would you be game to go here at night?






Sunday, 27 July 2014

The Good The Bad & The Scarred - My Story Part 4

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Before we go on any further, I just want to say thank you. Thank you so much for allowing me to share this story with you and for your patience with what is quite an epic saga.

I think that's why I have never really shared the full story with anyone apart from my husband before - because it is so freaking long and drawn out with one drama after another, to the point that even I as I wrote this was all "Seriously? There's still more?"

But please, don't feel sorry for me as there really is no need.  This isn't intended to be a sob story in any way shape or form because despite the hiccups I have also had a very blessed life. Yes there has been shit that has happened, but we all go through shit don't we? That's just a part of life and yet there is so much goodness too, as long as we don't let the past blind us from seeing it.

Opening up and writing about all of this has been the most therapeutic thing I have ever done. With every part of the story I tell, I also release it. I have let go of any pain or anger I have attached to the memories and it's now gone, in the past where it belongs and it no longer holds any power over me.

We are nearly there.

*****************************************

My poor husband. I can only imagine what was going through his head when he got out of the surf to find my Dad waiting to tell him I had fallen… again.

Back at home, I was in a complete state of disbelief. I felt ill in the stomach from the familiar sickening pain coming from the leg and I was shaking so much from the shock that I could barely speak.

Kai who was five lept into action. He put a beanbag under my head and covered me with a blanket. Sammy who was two, sat next to me on the floor patting me and saying “you OK Mummy? Mummy you OK?”

“I think we need an ambulance” I mumbled to Kai, and bless that little guy he grabbed the phone and dialled 000.

He then went and checked that Flynn was still OK upstairs and then waited at the front door to let the ambulance officers into the house and show them where I was.

He was so calm and knew instinctively what to do. He really will make the most amazing Doctor one day.



So it turned out pretty much how we expected - my good leg was now screwed and required reconstruction. Thankfully we already had the best Doctor I could ever wish for on our team and I had complete faith in him that he could do once again what he had done for us before. I mean, this was my good leg so surely it would be easier to fix than the other one right?

What I hadn't thought about was the rehabilitation side of things. I had no idea how hard it would be to get back on your feet when both of your legs are stuffed.

But our awesome team got to work. Our surgeon screwed everything back together, grafting muscle and bone to rebuild a functioning leg. Our physio pushed me to my limits but knew when to stop and let me cry it out. And my chiropractor gave my twisted spine relief whenever I needed it. 

I am still completely in awe of that team. Not once did they ever give up on me or give us any reason to doubt that we could do it again.

And Carl… oh Carl. Have I told you all how truly blessed I am to have that man in my life? 

I mean I could tell you a zillion times and it would not do him justice. People always tend to feel sorry for the person who has the accident or is going through something traumatic, but the ones we should really feel for are the loved ones who support that person through it all. 

Man they are heroes.

Once again Carl took the reigns and he was Mum, Dad, carer, cook, chauffeur, nurse and cleaner. He quit his job so that he could care for us all, including our 3 month old baby. 


We were quite the sight. Because it was such a production to get around with the wheelchair and 3 little ones, the rehab team would come to our house daily to work with me. It was easier that way, but holy smokes it meant that there were days where we felt like caged animals. So once a week, Carl would pack us all up and take us to the local shops where we were pretty much a five man travelling circus.

Carl would push me in the wheelchair and Kai would with sit on my lap or stand on the toddler board on the pram and I would push Flynn and Sam in their double pram. 

It was hilarious and people would stop in their tracks and stare at us and even take photos on their phone as we ploughed our way through like a multi carriage train.

Sometimes people felt sorry for us and offered to help, but most of the time people saw we were laughing and just laughed along with us. We much preferred the laughing over any sympathy. Sympathy doesn't help anyone, but laughter? That shit is good for the soul.

I honestly don’t know how we would have survived it all without Carl. I will be grateful to eternity and beyond for that precious man. My boys are so blessed to have him as their Dad, I am even more blessed to have him as my husband and best friend.

Not once did he complain. Seriously, not once. 

He literally did everything and more, including coaching the kids soccer team, helping out my parents and our friends with everything and anything, looking after other people kids in the holidays and after school and he even volunteered as the handy man at our preschool. 

If you think I sound like I am bragging a little on his behalf, you are right. I totally am. Because he wouldn’t brag, not even for a moment as he is the most humble and down to earth guy you could meet. 

I was the proudest woman alive the day he was chosen as a finalist in the NSW Community Father of the Year Awards at Parliament house. 




A month after the accident I came off maternity leave and started working again from home. It was pointless me being on maternity leave given that Carl was now a full time carer and besides I was pretty much useless. A fat lot of good I was as a mother when I couldn't get up to tend to my children, couldn't protect them from danger and couldn't go to them or pick them up if they were hurt or just needed reassurance. 

I started piling on the weight. Not surprising given I was sitting on my ass in a wheelchair all day and at night I sat on my ass and drank bourbon.

I don’t know when the laughter stopped. It was there one day and then it kind of just disappeared. 

We were embroiled in a court case over the accident and things were starting to heat up. The other side were sending us to Doctor after Doctor to be reviewed and scrutinised. We travelled all over Sydney where I was stripped to my undies by unsympathetic Doctors who didn't know me and didn't really care. 

Just like when I was that 15 year old girl, I was prodded and poked by these strangers as they tried to downplay the damage they were reporting on. I had opposing psychologists that would reduce me to tears like they were trying to get me to say it was all just an act, I wasn't really injured and I was just making it all up.

They were just doing their job.

We had private investigators following us on and off filming me whenever we left the house. I felt trapped both physically and emotionally and it was awful, soul crushingly awful.

On numerous occasions I threatened to pull the plug on the lawsuit. I never wanted to go through it in the first place and it was only after my family pointed out to me how selfish I was being by allowing Carl and our boys to be financially crippled by this accident and our ongoing costs that I agreed to take action. 

But I felt like I was constantly being punished for that decision every time the opposing legal team sent me to yet another humiliating meeting with one of their legal Docs. But that's the game. They want you to feel beaten and worn out and exhausted, because if you've had enough and call it quits - they win. 

There are no personal feelings involved. It’s just how it works.

Almost a year after the accident I was back on my feet with the use of a walking stick. If I sound less than enthusiastic this time, it is because I honestly just wasn't that excited. I apologise as I know how God damn ungrateful that sounds, but I was over it all and just wanted our life to go back to normal.

In a bid for normality I returned to the office with the use of my dreaded attention drawing walking stick. I hated that stick and everything it represented. I hated it almost as much as I hated the agonising hour long drive to work each day.

By the time I arrive at the office my legs were like tree trunks and would be having nerve and muscle spasms. I refused to take the pain killers at work as they made me groggy and caused me to slur my words. You know, just what every corporate work place needs - a resident slurring cripple. 

And so I'd work through until lunchtime and then often I would escape to the car park where I would lie in the back of my car and sleep. The alarm on my phone would wake me after 30 minutes and I would go back upstairs and continue working, often much longer than normal work hours as I was procrastinating about the drive home.

When I was at home, all I ever wanted to do was sleep. Sleep provided the much needed peace I was craving and when I was asleep there was no pain, no accident and no law suit. Just peaceful codeine induced sleep.

I went to pain clinics and listened to them tell me about various programs I could go on which included a combination of cognitive therapy, pain killers and nerve block injections (kind of like epidurals) which would numb my legs. Totally useless if you need to drive to work each day or hold out any hope of being at least a semi useless wife and mother. And so I said thanks but no thanks and continued with my daytime Panadol and nightly pain killers and sleeping tablets.

I was turning into one cranky big stressed out bundle of nerves. 

I was more miserable than I had ever been in my life and all I wanted to do was sleep. 

More than ever I felt fat and ugly and useless. I worried that Carl would one day wake up and decide he had had enough of me and leave. I worried that my kids were missing out on having a normal mother. I worried that my friends would get sick of me not wanting to leave the house and give up on me. I worried that somehow we would lose the court case and end up owing thousands and thousands in legal fees and medical bills. I worried we would lose our home.

But I was good at putting on a smile and faking it. At home, at work and everywhere, I wore the biggest fattest fakest smile I could muster.




You can only fake it so long before the cracks begin to appear, and appear they did. More and more I withdrew from everyone close to me, my husband and family included. 

One morning on the day of yet another legal appointment with a Doctor from the opposing side, I walked my kids into school. They ran ahead as I shuffled along with my walking stick smiling at everyone I made eye contact with. A mum I knew walked up next to me and said “It’s always so nice to see you at school Sonia, you always look so happy.” I rewarded her with the big smile she was expecting, kissed the boys good bye and headed back to my car where I sat and sobbed for Lord knows how long.

I don’t recall much about the appointment that day, but I do remember shaking in the passenger seat the whole hour long drive home. I don’t think I spoke to Carl at all during that drive. I just sat and stared numbly out the window while I shaked.

When we arrived home, we were met with a big fat pile of legal documents I was expected to read through and sign. I carried the documents out to the table in the garden where Carl was sitting. He looked at me curiously like he was waiting for me to say something and then it happened... 

I started shaking to the point that I couldn't hold anything.  I dropped the documents and I began to wail. I was overcome by an inconsolable hopelessness unlike anything I had ever felt before and in one single moment I let go. 

All the different versions that ever existed of me, the daughter, the friend, the tough girl, the lonely girl, the glowing bride, the besotted mother, the smiley school mum, the business woman… they all disappeared in a breath and were replaced by a sad empty shaking shell.

My fight was gone and I was spent.

We were officially at rock bottom.

Saturday, 26 July 2014

Creative Ways To Use Washi Tape

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There is no denying that when it comes to washi tape I am a sucker through and through. I would wrap myself in the stuff if I could .. like really tightly to hold all the wobbly bits in.

Kidding... Kinda.

Here's my weekend faves round up of awesome ways you too could become a completely obsessed washi addict like me. That is of course if you are not already one ;)





What's your favourite way to use washi tape?

Friday, 25 July 2014

Weekend Rewind - Birthdays and Quickies

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It's a very quick one from me tonight, and when I say quick I don't mean my usual quick which is actually not really that quick, but rather a long rambling verbal diarrhoea kind of quick. Nope, I mean quick as in if I was a man I would be getting myself some kind of nasal spray kind of quick... except I'm talking about a writing kind of quick which is really quite different to a bam bam in the bedroom kind of quick in which case nasal spray is not going to help anyone here.... gahhhhhh!

Holy crap - see what I mean? I really do have verbal poo!

I am like that at parties when I am saying good bye. I'm all "hey just give me a quick minute to say goodbye" and then 30 minutes later I am still hugging and chatting and hugging some more and you need to literally drag me out of there and then I'll probably have a moan at you about how you were rushing me or something as equally infuriating.

Or on the phone when I ring you and say "Hey just a quick one" and then an hour later I am still chewing your ear off. Yep I do that and clearly I need to do a little more work on the quick thing.

Anyway the reason for my quickness (which really isn't turning out to be so quick after all *insert eyes rolling into the back of my head and cobwebs hanging off my nostrils*) is because it is my hubby's birthday today and I have a chocolate cake to burn and and some Tandoori chicken to destroy in his honour.

So to my long suffering but incredibly precious Carl - Happy Birthday you big spunk!

And to the rest of you who have probably fallen asleep by now or have a cracking headache from my drivel - have an awesome weekend and Happy Weekend Rewinding.

End of dribble.

Do you suffer from verbal diarrohea or do you actually manage to keep it short when 
you say you are going to?



Don't forget to join in with us in the linky party and link up your favourite post from the week.



Link up your favourite post from the past week and then if you get a chance, pop around and say hello to some of the other lovely linkers. The Weekend Rewind blog hopping party starts every Friday night at 8pm and links will close on Sunday night at midnight. Link up here or over on Bron's blog (Maxabella)Sonia's blog (Sonia Styling) or Kelly's at A Life Less Frantic
It does not matter where you link as your link will show up in all 4 places.



Thursday, 24 July 2014

What's Your Dream?

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My dream life tends to be seasonal and changes depending on what the weather is like in any given month.

When it is a stinking hot hair frizzer of a day, I dream about packing up the family and moving to a chalet in a village somewhere cold, pretty and snowy with an open fireplace and lots of twinkle lights.

That dream is fairly short lived as I can't stand the cold and it is easier to go and hang in the freezer section of my local supermarket for a while rather than try and convince my family of boys to move somewhere where their testicles will be non existent for much of the year... if you know what I mean.

In Autumn I am all about inner city terrace houses on tree lined streets with lots of honey coloured exposed brick, a cafe or 3 at the end of the street and lots of twinkle lights. Yes clearly I have a thing for twinkle lights.

In Spring and Summer, I want to be near the beach. Ideally I would love to live in Bali but I have Buckley's of getting the family to move there so my next location of choice would be Byron Bay.

My youngest son has a dream to live there too one day, by the beach in a hotted up Winnebago.

My dream is a little more luxurious than that. I would love a beach side property with loads of lush green land. I would have separate accommodation that friends and family could come and stay in as well as all the fabulous people willing to pay me the big bucks I need to fund my cruisy lifestyle.

I would have a little airstream caravan outback that I would use as my own personal lady cave where I could write and create whilst the hubby and the boys are off surfing. Our guests are welcome to tap on the door when they are feeling thirsty and join me for a caprioska or G&T on the little deck.

Kimberly Amos is basically living my dream life. She has the lush landscape, the fabulous bungalows AND the airstream in Byron Bay.  Kimberly and Stephen Eakin are the lucky ducky owners of Atlantic Byron Bay - the boutique hotel of my dreams.

I mean seriously... have you ever?
Images from Byron Bay Atlantic

Images from Byron Bay Atlantic
How totally swoon worthy is this place!!! I'm kind of hoping that one day I can swoop in there and offer these guys a shitload of money to take this property off their hands. I kind of expect they will put up a bit of a fight because, well as IF you would let this property go without a tussle.

But eventually they would relinquish knowing that their beloved estate is going to a very loving home.

We would drink G&T's together on the day they hand over the keys and I would carry their pillows and bags to their car for them as we say goodbye and wave them onto a happy new life.

Then Carl and I would move our stuff in to the main house and I'd allocate a bungalow to each of the boys and a plot at the end of the block for Flynn to park his Winne.

Yep, I've got it all figured out.
Images from Byron Bay Atlantic




WHAT???? A girl's gotta have a dream right? 

In the meantime, I am saving my pennies to go and stay in that airstream so I can secretly measure it up and see if I could fit in a gin bar next to my desk.

Wanna join me on the little deck and we can give it a test run? ;)

Do you have a dream? Care to share it with us?
Images from Byron Bay Atlantic




Wednesday, 23 July 2014

You Spin My Head Right Round Right Round

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Wow life with a teenager is quite the ride isn't it. Thanks for the heads up people.

It's like they turn 13 and BAM overnight they morph into a walking talking beaker of hormones.

When I think back to the terrible twos and how I hard I thought that was at the time, I'm all "man are you kidding Sonia - walk. in. the. park."

OK not quite, I may be underestimating just how hard that age period was because you know time heals and all, but I can't help but laugh because now as a newbie mum of a teenager  - those two year old meltdowns just seem so tame and easy. Kind of like a gentle stretch before a state of origin grudge match.

I mean the tantrums are still there, only they tend to be more flouncy and dramatic and it's harder to pretend that the sulking teen tailing behind you doesn't actually belong to you when they are calling out "MUM, MUMMMMMM, SONIIIIAAAA STACKHOUSE WHY ARE YOU IGNORING ME MUMMMMM????

The explosion of emotions is what gets me the most.  In a five minute span you go from being best buds to not speaking and then all of a sudden your sweet affectionate child is back asking you to tuck him in.

One minute I am soooo in love with him and the next ... well the next I still very much love him but boarding school sure sounds tempting.

I'm NOT exaggerating. Here's some of the head spinning verbalisation that comes out of a certain teens mouth;

"That's not fair, so ripped off, I'm not allowed to do anything! You're the best mum in the whole world.

I'm only 13! Just let me do it myself! I need help! Will you stop treating me like a child!

You're so strict! Stop saying when I was your age! I want to spend more time with you!

I want more independence! I'm old enough to do it on my own! Can you come and watch me? Can you pick me up from school?

I love you! Leave me alone! I just need some space! Can you tuck me in? Can I lie with you for a while?

I'm tired! I can't sleep! Why do you wake me so early!

I'm starving! Can I eat this? I'm not eating that! There's never any food in this house!

You're so cool! You're sooooo embarrassing! You just don't understand! Can I please have $20 bucks?"

No wonder my head feels like a has gone a round or 10 as a flipping tennis ball.

And then there are all the words and lingo that is so darn hard to keep up with. I try to keep up and I have even resorted to Googling that stuff that when he is in bed at night just so I can understand what the hell he is saying and carry on a half decent conversation with him and his mates.

However, when I try to casually use those words in the car on the way to footy, they all look at me like I have two heads and he sinks to the floor in a mortified heap.

Sick, Rig, Yolo, Swag, KK, Bro, Flex, WUD, WBU, chill, bounce, h8er, tight, FOMO, GTG

Are we even speaking the same language?

Please tell me this gets easier.

PUHLEEASE!

Have you entered the teenage zone yet? Have you survived? Got any tips for a newbie?



Tuesday, 22 July 2014

DIY Cork Magnetic Trivets and a Random Explanation

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I did this little project back in the school holidays and I totally forgot to share it with you guys. School holidays do that to you don't they... they make you forget things, like the fact that once upon a time pre children you had a brain.

These funky little hot pads were born out of something so simple. You see I had thrown these babies into my trolly at IKEA just before the holidays because they were only a couple of bucks for five of them.

"What on earth are you going to do with those?" my hubby questioned me.

"Oh I have big plans for these" I exclaimed "like really HUGE kind of big plans."

The truth was I had nothing.

Nada.

Zilch.

I was just a sucker who had been seduced by a packet of cork mats at a really hot price. IKEA does that to me. I always end up with things I had no idea I needed.

So deep down there is a part of me that would like to think of myself as some kind of Martha Stewart, you know changing the world one fabulous craft at a time. The reality is I am just a frustrated crafting amateur who likes to hide out in her lady cave every now and then and attempt to clear out her overloaded supplies cupboard... one craft at a time.

The idea for these cork boards actually came to me one afternoon in the week before school broke up for the holidays. The kids were knackered and whingy in that typical end of term way,  so I locked myself in my office to escape the whining.

I was digging through the cupboard looking for a project I could do in the safety of my room and so I naturally thought of cork magnetic trivets.

Yeah OK, not really. I just kind of started painting the cork rounds and then part of the way through I decided I would give to people as gifts and then it kind of just evolved from there.

Cool though huh?

I even let the kids have a go at painting their own in the end because they were banging on my door wanting to know what I was doing in there and I was now kind of semi chilled from being in a crafting zone.

The magnetic part was an after thought because after I finished painting these babies I was on a bit of a creative high and so I was all "And yeah if we put some magnets on the back of these we can totally stick them to the fridge... yewwww!"

Or something like that.



So Martha Stewart you are at no risk at being knocked off your thrown by yours truly, but I betcha don't have really cool cork magnetic trivets like these huh?

Yeah, OK you probably do. Pffft!

Do you ever find yourself in the awkward position of having to think up a semi-believable explanation for a totally random purchase?






Monday, 21 July 2014

Just Breathe

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To many people, having the words 'Just Breathe' tattooed onto your wrist seems kind of DERish.

I get that, I mean who needs to remember to do something so basic as breathing? But to anyone who has struggled to breathe in the middle of a panic attack or a moment of pure desperation - those two words carry so much meaning.

It's such a simple thing to do isn't it? I mean you don't even really have to think about it! You just breathe. But how many times a day do things / events / people get to you and you end up holding your breath without even thinking about it. You literally forget to breathe?

I am a major breath holder from way back.

When I worry - I hold my breath. When I panic - I hold my breath. When I am nervous or stressed or overwhelmed - I hold my breath.

A few years ago when anxiety and I were engaged in a constant battle, the panic would set in for me any where and at any time. I cannot tell you how many times I have been in a shopping centre or out somewhere with a friend, when for no reason that lump in the throat made it impossible to swallow, my chest would start pounding and my heart would race at what felt like hundreds of beats per second. Or then there were the nights when everyone was sleeping and the darkness would feel like it was literally suffocating me and I needed to escape somewhere, anywhere.

All I could do when that happened was to tell myself over and over again "Just breathe Sonia, Just breathe".

Even now (touch wood) that the anxiety has subsided, I still use this mantra daily. When the kids are going off and the bird and dogs are going nuts, there is work to be done, deadlines looming, dinner to be made and gahhhhh stuff that is just literally sucking the air out of me.... I find a quiet place to sit, close my eyes and just breathe.

A year ago when I was in Bali having a fabulous time celebrating my mid life crisis and making ginormous life changing decisions, I decided I wanted to get my mantra tattooed onto my wrist. It would act as reminder always that no matter what happens or how out of control life ever feels, I simply need to stop and just breathe and then go from there.

I do already have one tattoo on my lower back - the protective eye (which is very handy when it comes to convincing your children you have eyes in your back and can see like everything), so tattooing is not entirely new to me. That said I'm not an overly spontaneous gal, unless of course we are talking about online shopping cause then I'm totally all 'click' oops I accidentally just entered my credit card details for that cushion, candle, stationary, Global direct genie bra... whatever. But for big things like a tattoo - I need to sit on that thought for a while and then come to a comfortable decision.

A year on, I reached that comfortable conclusion that yep I'm ready to do this.
And so over the weekend we headed into Manly to a renowned tattoo artist Caspian DeLooze and he worked his magic on my wrist whilst my hubby and kids watched on.

It's not for everyone. I respect that. It is a very personal choice... kind of like having your ears pierced or your hair dyed a different colour. Only you can answer why you feel the need to do it and you don't really owe anyone else an explanation.

Granted, the irony comes into play when you think about how much I hate the scars on my legs. If I am so put off by the scars I already have, why on earth would I go and willingly scar myself with ink?

The answer is that this is a scar I choose to wear. It is a scar that doesn't act as a reminder of painful memories, rather it is a symbolic scar that will forever more remind me of the strength I have within myself to deal with what ever life decides to throw at me.

It's a visual and emotional reminder that all I need to do to get through anything is 'Just Breathe' and then take it from there.

Do you have any tattoos? What do they mean to you?

*** A few people have asked me what font I used for my tattoo - it was Channel font