Not the best day on record....

*~*  language warning  *~*

One of my favourite childhood books, and so apt for today! Just substitute "Melissa" for "Alexander"...

Today has been a shitty day.

I am juggling full-time work with full-time mothering. For the last year, since I came back from maternity leave it has been a struggle, but I have coped.

But in the last two weeks, for some unknown reason, I have become a bit of a ball dropper.

Mostly, the dropped balls have been very minor.

Unfortunately, the thing that I dropped the ball on today was unable not quite so minor. Nor could it be resolved.

Fortunately, I have quite possibly the best boss in the world, so she sort of talked me off the ledge; and reminded me that everything is fixable.

I also have some fantastic colleagues who were happy to listen to my near hysterical "oh fuck, what do I do now" rant.

And I have my amazing Husband who, when I called him at work, almost in tears and said "I've dropped the ball, it's not the first time. I think I've really fucked up and I don't know what to do...", replied with a "Everything will be fine Babe. It's probably not as bad as you think. And when you get home I will be there to give you a big cuddle."

Ok, he didn't say the last bit. But I know that it was exactly what he meant - one of the joys of being with someone for so long; sometimes you don't always have to use words.

There is also some delicious red wine waiting for me at home too, which helps.

So today has been a bad day, but there is still plenty of time for it to get better!!

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Who do you turn to when you've dropped the ball?

The day I (sort of) became a housewife

For the first time in my life, I did something housewifey.

Today I woke up with the overwhelming urge to make lemon and sugar crepes. Not sure what prompted the urge (I haven't made crepes for years!!), but figured I should just run with it... anyway, it would be a lovely treat for the Little Monster.

So I googled a crepe recipe - thank goodness for iphones!! - and set about making a culinary delight for the family.

Husband came into the kitchen shouting "Who are you and what have you done with my wife!?!!"

Oh ho ho, such a funny man.

But to be fair to him, it is the first time in almost 9 years that I have ever made crepes for breakfast, and on a workday at that!

They weren't very attractive crepes (hence not using my own photo), but they were yummo! I gave the Little Monster half a crepe with jam (didn't think it would be nice to give him to the daycare lady all hyped up on sugar).... he had a mouthful, but wasn't impressed.

However, when he had a mouthful of Husbands sugared up crepe, his eyes lit up and I could almost see the sugar rush happen before my eyes.... So daycare lady; sorry about the hyperactive child this morning, I hope his come down wasn't too intolerable.

What deliciousness have you surprised your family (or yourself!) with?

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A post for my Brother

Today is my brother's birthday - and the only hug I can give him is a telephonic one. Well that and this electronic one:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LITTLE BROTHER!!

My family is spread across the globe - the UK, Malaysia and the US; which is awesome for holiday destinations, but sucks for the big stuff... especially when there are nephews involved (I can't say nieces, as there are none yet!!)

My brother and I are close, and to be on the other side of the world from each other is really hard for us. And having children made us both realise just how hard being apart is:

• We weren't there for the birth of each other's first child.
• We don't get to see the children's milestones.
• We don't get to share a bottle of wine for our birthdays.
• Most Christmases are spent apart.

The last time I had my whole family together in the one spot (including step family and in-laws) was at our wedding. Before that.... jeez, I can't even remember; it was probably before my parents got divorced, so over 12 years ago. Too long.

The older I get, the more I realise the importance of family; and having a child has certainly helped with the realisation J

I relish having my mum and step-dad only 15-minutes away, my in-laws are literally just down the road from us, and my step-siblings are a 30-minute drive away; I am very lucky to have a fantastic family support network so close by.

For me, the hardest part of living so far apart from my brother is that my Little Monster misses out on growing up with one of his cousins. And although that make me sad, he is lucky enough to have five other cousins to play with close by... so it's not all bad!  J

The flip side of all this global distances malarkey, is that when the Boys are old enough there will be alternate holidays between countries (helloooo holidays!!)

The Little Monster will stay with my brother and sister-in-law for a couple of weeks whilst Husband and I swan around the European countryside.

Then we will have my nephew for a couple of weeks whilst his parents have a well deserved break; may I suggest the wine region, Brother? J

Which all sounds good in theory - I'm looking forward to putting it into practise!

So this post is for you LB... Happy Birthday!! BS xx

 

  

{image credits 1, 2}

I love equal love

Now I'm not one to get involved in political broo-haha's; more often than not it's because I don't know what I'm talking about!

But this one just cuts too close to home.

bigwords is a blog that I (literally!) discovered this morning, and she recently posted about equal love. I thought was a wonderful post and absolutely mirror's my own thoughts on same sex relationships.

She also created this button:




A beautiful relative of mine is gay, and our marriages were only weeks apart.... execpt mine was recognised as legal, and hers was not.

Hardly fair.

We share the same feelings of love towards our partners, we want the same things from our relationships. Why should it matter that the person she loves is another woman? Why should it stop her from being legally married?

As bigwords so eloquently said, "Love is love is love."

So, I am adding this button to my blog - as a small way of showing my support for the gay community, and for their fight for equal love.

Peace out x

My {relaxing} day off

Firstly:

A big shout out to The Organised Housewife who is dedicating this month to Wardrobe Organisation – the inspiration behind my Day Off .  And to Toddler Tastes , for the dinner inspiration   J

NB – better give you all the heads up, this is a bit of a novel  J

My flat looks like a bomb site; the kitchen floor needs a damn good mop, the carpet hasn’t seen a vacuum cleaner in weeks and my wardrobe has spilled onto the floor.

The mess clutter was really starting to get me down, so I decided to take a day off from work to play at being a housewife.

Now, I am not known for being good at getting things done in a timely manner – especially housework! – so in order to at least try to combat my affliction, I wrote a list of everything I wanted to achieve, the things I needed to buy, and I set myself a schedule.

I was going great guns until 10.45am.

“I’ll just pop into Kmart to buy the few things I need for this endeavour. I know what I want, so it should be a quick stop. By the time I get this and the food shop I’ll only be about 10 minutes behind schedule.”

Famous last words.

By the time I had gotten everything I needed (and put back everything I didn’t!) and was on the road home, it was 12.30pm. I was an hour and a half behind schedule!!

Driving home, I quickly rescheduled my time – ok, no time for lunch now, I’ll just eat it whilst I’m hanging out the washing. Then I’ll quickly wash the dishes, clean the kitchen, mop the floor, and then head to the WARDROBE OF DOOOOOM for a good 2 hours before getting dinner prepped and then picking up the Little Monster and Husband.... PHEW!

I got home, unpacked the bags and made a sandwich. Whilst waiting for the kettle to boil I ran to the laundry and grabbed the washing. I wolfed down my sandwich and hung out the washing in record time. Then I hit my first stumbling block... my cup of tea.

I had been up since 5.45am with the Little Monster, and had been on the go proper since 7am. It was now 12.45pm, and I was starting to lag big time. That’s ok, I thought, I'll take five-minutes to have a lay down, enjoy my cuppa and to have a little rest – it will recharge me before I get stuck into the kitchen.

It was 15-minutes before I could drag my sorry ass off the sofa; I am now nearly two hours behind schedule and I STILL haven’t started anything that I wanted to get done.

I glance at my printed out timetable; I was supposed to be halfway through my wardrobe task and already have the kitchen done.

With a huge sigh I drag the vacuum into the kitchen at get to work, convinced that it will only take me 30-minutes to get some kind of cleanliness happening.

An HOUR later I stumble out of the kitchen and make my way to the WARDROBE OF DOOOOOM with garbage bags in tow. I now have just two hours to get my wardrobe into order. That’s ok, it should only take 90-minutes, I’ll be sweet.

My plan was simple:

1.       throw out the shoes that I no longer wear;

2.       separate all clothes into “chuck”, “charity” and “keep” piles;

3.       turn my coat hangers to see just how many of my clothes I wear;

4.       put together the recently purchased shoe racks, and fill them;

5.       wipe down the mirror;

6.       go get my Boys.

Yeah, nice plan.... but it kinda didn’t work out that way.

I managed to chuck more than a couple of shoes out (which I am very proud about!) but as I sat in a sea of shoes, I decided to put the shoe rack together and put the shoes away. That’s when I discovered that, although I can build and IKEA wardrobe, 10 bits of metal and eight screws make me a DIY idiot.

No joke, it took me THIRTY MINUTES to put the shoe rack together – but I got there.

Before I could even start on the clothes in the wardrobe, I had to tackle my ever growing floor-drobe. I was working quite quickly with the chuck, charity, keep mentality – it was mostly “chuck” or “put in the washing basket” – and was just about to start on the wardrobe proper, when I looked at the time.

HOLY CRAP! It was time to get my Boys! And dinner wasn’t prepped, and I hadn’t finished the wardrobe, and I hadn’t vacuumed the lounge and, and, and.....

I walked away from the wardrobe, put the two bags of crap I had chucked out into the rubbish bin and went to collect the Boys.

By the time the Little Monster went to bed, I had managed to cook dinner, vacuum the lounge, and push everything to the side of my bedroom so I at least had a clear path to bed.

As I ate dinner and savoured my glass of wine, I reflected on my day with Husband. Yes, I hadn’t achieved everything that I had set out to do (that hair dye will just have to wait until the weekend), but I had made a start. And that is so much better than just leaving things

And in all honesty, I am just glad that I had the intention to do something about the clutter... For the first time in a while, I was excited about making a positive change in my home – a change that I know will make me feel better about spending time there.

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A blank page can be a daunting thing

I have been slack.

There has been no post since Friday, and for that I offer my apologies, dear followers.

For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be a writer. I have always thought that I have a novel inside me that just needs a little help to come out.

That was one of my secret reasons to start this blog - so I could write, I could find my voice, I could find my novel, and I could *ahem* be "published".

When I started writing my first post, I had a kazillion ideas floating around my head. So I stuck them in draft. A few I have used, a few were deleted, and a few are waiting for later.

And now here I am, a blank canvas in front of me... and I can find no words. Which is unfortunate. I mean what's the point of having a blog if you have no words!?

This must be what Writer's Block feels like.

Boy does it suck.

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The Hangover

Today has been a struggle... I blame the hangover.

No, actually, I blame Husband

You see, I had a Girls Night Out last night (Not on a School Night!? I hear you gasp). Yes, on a School Night.

I was was supposed to drive, thereby limiting my wine intake to one solitary glass; enough to feel a part of the evening, but not to have to worry about the morning after.

However, just as I was putting the final touches to my make up, Husband came into the bathroom and uttered the fateful words:

"We'll give you a lift in. That way you can have a few drinks and enjoy yourself with the Girls. I'll even do the morning shift with the Little Monster"

Of course when he put it like that, how could I refuse!? In fact I felt it my duty to enjoy a glass of wine or four....

And despite a number of attempts to alternate between the glass of wine and the glass of water in front of me, I continually found the wine glass in my hand - sometime you just can't fight the Universe  J

So you see, it really is Husband's fault - not mine.


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Oh how I wish I drank coffee

I am a bleary eyed Mother today... and it's all my own fault.

Way back when the Little Monster was a wee thing (about 3 months old), he miraculously slept for the first time. I shared this joyous occasion with my mum's group, with all the energy and the smile of a new mother who has finally had some decent sleep.

As punishment for what he considered to be "showing off", the Little Monster spent the next week making sure that I woke up every two hours; feeding, cuddling, nappy change, singing, shushing - he wanted the lot.

So a month later, when he again slept through, I thought oho! I know this game. I'll keep my mouth shut until I am sure this is a regular occurrence. We had three nights in a row of solid sleep; I thought three nights meant it was his new schedule.

So once again, I bounded into my mum's group full of energy and a great big smile. And once again, I was punished for my naivety.

Lesson learnt; no more discussing my son sleeping habits.

Oh how quickly we forget...

Yesterday, I had an email from a work friend who is on maternity leave with her first child. She was desperately tired, and asked me how old the Little Monster was when he slept through.

I cheerfully replied that our Little Monster was a bit slow in the "regularly sleeping through department" (I call regularly at least 3 times a week, and he was about 15-months), but that now we usually get five full nights a week.

Apparently, I was showing off again.

Last night, the Little Bugger Monster had me up three times, before I finally gave up and fell on the sofa, Monster in arms. He, of course, slept like a log; a fidgeting, snoring, tyring-to-stick-his-hands-in-mummy's-bellybutton log.

Which meant that I didn't.

As I said, all my own fauly really.

Image from here

I heart my family!

Oh what another wonderful weekend!

I’m not sure what has changed, but the last few weekends have been such a fun filled family time. And at the end of those weekend, on the Sunday nights, as Husband and I lay in bed we look at each other and say “I have had a GREAT weekend”

This weekend we played in the park with the Little Monster’s cousins, and fed ducks with the grandparents. We went for a walk around the block. We had a family “Masterchef Finale” dinner with the in-laws, and the Little Monster was spoilt for choice of where to get his cuddles (and chocolate!) from. And we had a kajillion family cuddles – the best kind in my mind!  J

It’s funny when I think back to what a great weekend entailed for us in our previous life; meeting up with friends, copious amounts of alcohol, lots and lots of laughter and a sleep in.

These days, it would seem that a great weekend for our family requires the following; meeting up with family or friends preferably in a large child friendly space, copious amounts of children’s paraphernalia strewn all over the floor, lots and lots of laughter and an early night.

This will sound strange to say, but I finally feel like we are a proper family – we do things together, we have conversations (some more one sided than others!),  we enjoy each other’s company and we have fun as a family. Maybe it’s because Husband is no longer working on weekends. Or maybe it’s because the Little Monster has reached an age where we can interact and actually interact, if that even makes sense

Or maybe it’s because I am starting to find my role as A Mother to be more rewarding, and it’s starting to feel a little bit easier.

Yes there are always challenges, and there are often moments of “arrrgh!”, and I know that there will be plenty more!! But more often than not, when the Little Monster looks at me with his big blue eyes and says “More {insert word} Mumma. Pease?” I think to myself, Isn’t this fun? Aren’t you glad you’re his Mummy?

And you know what? I most certainly am!!

Pics - 1 and 2

The Story of Us - aka a Proposal to Remember

I've just read through my last post - hmmmm, t'was a tad... cranky, for want of a better word. So let me counter act that unpleasantness with the uplifting "Story of Us"...

Nearly 9 years ago, I was quietly sitting at my office desk, minding my own business, when a spunky young man who I had met before, and briefly chatted with, sat down at the desk next to mine and started talking.
A mere 15 minutes later, he walked away again. Leaving in his wake a young woman with a smile the size of the sun on her face; we had just arranged our first date! You see that cute guy who just left the building, he's my Boyfriend!!

Fast forward 6 years, during which time my Boyfriend and I had travelled to the UK, Jordan, Russia, Oman, Fiji; we had moved overseas to start a business and we had moved back to Australia to close a business.... It was a busy time!
We had just finished a 16-month stint of living in separate countries (not fun!) and were finally together again, in our little flat, re-discovering our bond as a full time couple.

We had talked about marriage before, and always came back to the point “but we know how we feel about each other, and our commitment to this relationship – lets be happy with that”, and we were.

And then I peed on a stick  J 

Fast forward another 9-months, during which time my belly had grown to outrageous proportions, my patience had shrunk, and I was waddling like a penguin. Sexy stuff!

After 3 days of pre-labour and 7 hours of labouring at home, I decided that it was time to go to hospital (don't worry, for those who are interested, our birth story will be another post!)

Just as we are about to leave the flat, my Boyfriend pulls me in to the baby's room.

"Are you ready?" He asks, with his arm around my shoulders.
I burst into tears, "No!" I cry, "I am not ready!"
And then out it comes (his proposal, people, not the baby!) "Melissa, I love you. I am so proud of you. I can't wait to meet this new person that we have made together, and I am so excited for our future. Will you marry me?"
I cried harder "Yes! Now can we please go to the hospital!?"
(Honestly? I cannot remember the exact phrasing used by my Boyfriend during the proposal. But bear in mind, I was in labour, very exhausted and an insanely heady mix of excited and terrified about what was to come (with the baby, people, not the wedding!)... so I have chosen to use some creative license in this particular narrative)

Totally not us!

Cut to 8 hours later, when my Fiance and I welcomed our beautiful Little Monster into the world, and all thoughts of proposals and weddings completely vanished from our heads, until we suddenly remembered to tell our families two weeks later.

My Husband and I were married April this year. After 8 ½ years of blissfully living in sin, and with a Little Monster in the mix, we finally decided to make it official.  J

Pics: 1 & 2 3

What's my age again?

 

I tell people that I'm 29.

My official line is “I tried being 30 for a year and didn’t like it, so I went back to being 29”. It usually gets me a polite laugh or two.

But I’m not sure how much longer I can get away with it.

Last weekend we went to a 21st birthday party at a very trendy pub in a pricey part of town. For the first time ever, I felt out of place and worse; I felt OLD.

It may have had something to do with the fact that I was out after 9pm on a Friday night (my bedtime these days is 9.30pm)

It may have had something to do with the fact that I haven't surrounded myself with 21 year olds since, well... my 21st.

Or - most likely - it may have had something to do with the girls dressed up to the nines in their slinky dresses, with towering strappy high heels, and boobs that don't hang down to their bellybuttons. Whilst I was dressed comfortably in jeans (that most likely had toddler snot on them), a sparkly top that hides a multitude of sins, and boots with a sensible heel.

And jealousy is not a factor here people, I can assure you... yeah right!

It certainly didn’t help that we were caught talking to a peppy 23 year old real estate agent, who was on a fantastic salary, still lived at home, owned his own investment property and was expecting a very large commission check for a very large deal he had just completed.... WHAT THE?!

When I was 23, I was on a mediocre salary, living at home (because I had no choice), wasn’t even aware of the term “investment property” and was expecting a large hangover from a night out with my friends!!

These days I’m on a good salary, wishing I still lived at home (for the free laundry service!), wondering when I will ever be able to afford my own property – let alone an investment, and I expect there will be a large pile of dishes to wash when I get home...

Jeez, I tell you what, as much as people like to complain and moan and take the piss out of Gen Y – these kids are on to a good thing, and they seem to be savvy enough to make the most out of it.

Anyhoo (can’t quite work out how a blog about my age turned into a rant about Gen Y!)

The thing is, until I went to that party, I had been feeling pretty happy about my real age. Yes, of course I hate ageing – and who doesn't!? – but I have sort of accepted it.

I still FEEL 23 on the inside, I still act like a petulant teenager more often that I should, and I still get a shock when I look in the mirror and the face staring back has a smattering of wrinkles and a few grey hairs (what the hell happened to the smooth skinned 23 year old!??). Yet, for the most part, I'm happy with my position in the age bracket... For now.

Of course, I have no intention of “aging gracefully”. There’s an email that does the rounds every now and then about living life to the full:

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, champagne in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO what a ride!"

And that's how I want to do it, worn out (possibly drunk) and happy... Oh there may be a touch of Botox involved, and possibly some surgery to stop me from tripping over my boobs - but you get the gist J

Oh and just so you know, the next time I go out, I’m dressing up  J

Pictures 1 and 2

Introductions

Welcome back, it’s good to see you  J

I guess I’ll kick off the introductions:

Hi! My name is Melissa. I’m a 30-something, recently married, mother to a gorgeous little boy and a crazy cat.

I somehow manage to balance being a full-time employee with being a full-time mum; and I will admit that the housework was the first to suffer. But as long as I get to enjoy most of my weekends with my little family, I don’t really give two hoots about trying to be a perfect housewife (so I guess my profile picture might be more than a little misleading!)

NB – I actually really REALLY want to be a housewife; y'know, the type that always has a clean home that smells good because there is something yummy baking in the oven. But apart from the fact that I work full-time (out of financial necessity, not desire!), I also think that I am not really that type of person... But who knows. Maybe there is a housewife hiding inside this slob!! Or maybe one day the magic housewife fairy will visit me and I will wake up being a regular Stepford wife! But I digress... (and I do that a lot too)

Our Little Monster (our son, not the cat) is almost 2 years old. He is a constant source of amusement and delight to my husband and I; with a healthy dose of “annoying” thrown in for good measure. His favourite saying at the moment is “oh come on!” – which works on a surprising number of levels, with any number of inflections of tone. His favourite dish du jour is crumpets with jam or honey; any time, day or night. And his favourite past time is attempting to play games on the iPad; we consider it a good day if he asks for the “phone” a mere 30 times.

Meow-Meow, before he went completely psycho

Our cat used to have a name... but because of the Little Monster he is now known as Meow-Meow. He is a psycho cat; I’m pretty sure if he was a dog he’d be required to be muzzled at all times. I constantly have scars on my arms from the scratches and bites that he has “lovingly and playfully” administered. And yet, he has the patience of an almost-saint with the Little Monster... which is probably why he goes mental with us – he’s releasing all of his pent up anger. Don’t get me wrong, he’s swiped at the Little Monster – despite our repeated warnings to the poor kid – but not with the same level of malice he reserves for us.

My husband and I were married in April this year; on the Thursday before the Easter long weekend. And because the Anzac Day holiday was on the following Tuesday, it meant that our guests had a super extra long weekend! Aren’t we a thoughtful couple  J

A post dedicated to the proposal/wedding will come along soon; I don’t want to overwhelm you with too much too soon!

Well I’ve told you a little about me, and over the course of this blog you will learn so much more about me (maybe even a little too much?!??)

Now the ball is back in your court; and you are....?  J

Acknowledgement for first picture.