Stay tuned …

I finally have a new laptop! I have been without for most of the year after both mine and my husband’s decided to die. He very kindly bought me one for my birthday last week so now hopefully I can get back to blogging again as I’m sure you’ve all missed my ranting and rambling ūüėČ

I was all set to post away today however I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus and my brain doesn’t seem to be working. 

Sooooooo stay tuned!


Pipe down son

Oh em gee the sound of a toddler screaming because they can’t get their own way – is there a more annoying, godawful sound on earth. No I doubt there is.

The past almost two weeks the Curly-Haired Monster has discovered his lungs and the ability to screech at a very high pitch. It is a bloodcurdling sound and I’m certain my neighbours have contemplated calling the police.¬†

He likes to use this new finely-tuned skill when he doesn’t get what he wants. He is a stubborn little boy – not sure where he inherited that trait from – and often teams the screaming with a little lie down on the floor. On special occasions he will even bang his head on the floor. Good times.

I am not the most patient person in the world and have to restrain myself from screaming back – admittedly I have screamed back – but recently The Boy and I have decided the best way for the screaming to cease is to ignore him.

It works like a charm but I can’t help but feeling like the worst parent on earth. For realz does a mother’s guilt ever f*cking end?

Anyway I am sure I am not alone but I constantly feel like all other mums have so much more patience than me and I am doing a terrible job. I imagine in other homes the parents are calm and laugh off these tantrums where as I am trying not to tear my hair out or crack open a bottle of shiraz at 10am. 

Then it makes me question my ability to have more than one child? Could I handle it? How the hell do other parents do it? Will this hideous guilt which cloaks me every minute of my life ever dissipate? Does it ever get any easier?

Almost a wifey

It’s less than five weeks until the wedding. One month and four days to be precise.

I had no idea just how stressful wedding planning would be. It has kept me awake at night more times than I care to remember and consumes about 60 per cent of my thoughts.

Now that we are on the final stretch the stress is dissipating but mainly because I have come to accept whatever happens, happens and that it’s about The Boy and I – no one else. If people want to complain about choices we’ve made or not attend then that is up to them – we are not going to let it rain on our parade.

What has blown my mind and impressed me the most is guests RSVPing. Anyone who knows me knows how much I despise it when people don’t RSVP. It is the height of rudeness in my book. That and people who are always late really grind my gears. It’s just plain rude and inconsiderate.

Anyway 95 per cent of guests have RSVPd and I am over the moon about that. I was expecting to write a ranty blog about RSVP etiquette but alas there is no need. Woo hoo to awesomely organised friends and family!

There is still quite a bit of work to do but most of that can’t be done until the final week and luckily my fabulous bridesmaids have already volunteered to give me a hand. They are probably sick of me asking 5 million questions about the hen’s weekend – which is the weekend after next – not probably I know for a fact they are, but I want them to know I appreciate everything they have done. They truly are the best ‚̧ I love you girls to the moon and back.

I cannot wait to call The Boy my husband and for him to call me his wife. It has been a long time coming – almost fifteen years. Hey these things take time ūüėČ and we had to be sure. It will be nice to finally solidify our relationship and it will make our little family feel whole.

The Curly-Haired Monster won’t be coming to the reception – he goes to bed at 7.30pm and personally we don’t think weddings and babies really mix – however he is playing a significant role in the ceremony. We are eagerly trying to get him to walk by then and while two days ago I would have said no way we have now noticed he has progressed in leaps and bounds. I will no doubt cry my eyes out when I see him walk down the aisle. My little boy is no longer a baby – waaah!

I won’t be changing my last name which may ruffle a few feathers but it’s my choice and I don’t think me taking The Boy’s surname is a declaration of love – to me it would be symbolic of me giving up my independence, my individuality and my heritage. Thankfully he understands where I am coming from and has not put any pressure on me to give up my name and values. There wouldn’t be a wedding if he objected anyway!

I know whatever happens on the day rain, hail or shine it is going to be one of the best days of our lives. I am so excited to share it with all of our closest friends and family.

Our goal for the day/night is for everyone to relax and have as much fun as possible. We want guest to stuff themselves silly with food, drink up and have a boogie on the dancefloor. So it’s a night to remember for everybody ūüôā I am so excited. So excited.

Let the final countdown begin … I AM GETTING MARRIED WOO HOO!


Who’s choice?

I was going to write a lengthy post about the whole Chrissie Swan saga but honestly I can’t be bothered and don’t think she deserves any more air time. So here is my two cents worth simply put and in brief.

In my opinion and speaking from my own experience as a former smoker – the day you find out you are pregnant you quit. That’s what I and countless other woman did. ¬†

It isn’t that hard and as any smoker will tell you when you want to quit you just do it. No ifs, buts or maybes you just do it. However you have to want to quit. My assumption here is that Swan didn’t want to quit.¬†

This bullshit – as spouted by the always angry Clementine Ford – about it being a woman’s choice, it’s her body she can do what she wants annoys me. Once that embryo is created it doesn’t just become your body anymore – you are sharing it with another very vulnerable little being. I do agree that it is a mother’s choice. It’s completely up to her if she wishes to lower the birth weight of her unborn child and increase its chances of SIDS and asthma. Sadly that little baby doesn’t get to choose.

This is not a feminist issue this is an issue about the health of an unborn child. A child who doesn’t get a say in the matter, a child who may suffer¬†adversely¬†from its mother’s selfish choices.¬†


Challenge accepted

One of my favourite things to do is prove people wrong.
When I was pregnant I did some crowd sourcing via Facebook as to whether I should use disposable or cloth nappies. An overwhelming majority of mothers said no to cloth nappies and I shouldn’t bother with them. Some said it would take up too much of my time, that I’d give up after a few days etc etc. One of my mates even bet me $200 that I’d throw in the towel after two months.
I thought to myself – “I’ll show them!”
I have been using MCNs for a month now – The Baby’s bum was too small for them up until then – and can honestly say I love them. They don’t leak, are ultra-absorbent and look super cute. Washing them is a breeze. I soak them in the nappy bucket and wash every second or third day before hanging them out to dry.
Much nicer than disgusting disposables sitting in the rubbish bin in the searing heat. Eww.