Thursday, December 12, 2013

Some people know that Christmas is approaching...


...when all the stores are playing (hideous- repetitive-elevator-music-versions of) Christmas Carols
and everywhere you look there are hundreds red and green candy canes...

...when their kids count down the days till Santa arrives...every day...all day...

..when they have already wasted a good few hours looking for that perfect egg nog recipe that
they used last Christmas Eve...


I know Christmas is approaching when the cat's poo is more tinsel than poo.

At least the chore of changing the cats' litter tray
is buoyed with a touch of Christmas cheer.

The only thing my cats like better than trying to decimate the tree itself

is to chew their way through the tinsel.

Disclaimer- this cute. innocent, harmless creature is not one of my cats.
My cats are much more cynical and devious and likely to eat Santa if he isn't careful.

Thursday, November 21, 2013

Birds don't believe in gravity.

Does anyone else love a good conspiracy theory?


Mr Boozle and I watched a documentary this week.
It was called "JFK- The Smoking Gun"
and I am here to tell you right now that
 the bullet that killed JFK was accidentally fired
by a Secret Service Agent.
After watching it, I have absolutely no doubt at all.

Well, that is until I watch a documentary 
-let's give it a working title of "If you think anyone apart from Oswald killed JFK, 
you are a bloody idiot"-
and I will change my mind all over again.


I don't think that I am gullible person,
not more so that anyone else.
I am not stupid...
Well, not really stupid anyhow.

I wont believe you if you try to tell me that Pamela Anderson's boobs are real.

I have never believed in drop bears.


Don't try to convince me that low calorie ice-cream tastes as good as
that creamy, dreamy, full fat double choc chip Baileys butterscotch ice-cream with fudge topping that will begin to harden your arteries
as soon as you take the lid off the container.

But I am open to suggestions
and give me "evidence" and I am all yours.

I remember watching a documentary about the Apollo moon landing.
I finished watching, knowing that without a doubt that the whole thing was staged.
(Who could argue with the evidence of the inconsistent shadows, people?)


A documentary on the likely scientific truth behind the Bermuda Triangle 
was extremely interesting- and somewhat of a relief
that it could be explained by science 
rather than the supernatural.

Perusing webpages, 
I even had a few seconds when I believed that the September 11th attacks
could certainly have been a cover-up of the actions of the US Government.

Of course, the merit of anything you read on the web is questionable.
It is a platform for any delusional, imaginative, obsessive, extremist or 
childish personality to get an immediate and worldwide audience
and the associated gratification.

But regardless of how malleable/vulnerable/gullible I might be,
some of these theories are fascinating,
if not just entertaining.

Who hasn't wondered if Lady Di's death was orchestrated rather than accidental?

What did crash land at Roswell in 1947?

Where exactly is Elvis?

Is fluoride in our water an unwanted mass medication?

Could Pro Wrestling actually be real?

Did Marilyn Monroe really commit suicide?


Are chemitrails really forcing us to buy more Maccas junk food through mind control
or just being used for population control?

Who knew what was built below Denver International Airport?
(And what is with the murals?)

Start surfing the net for conspiracy theories 
and you find that there is no shortage of them.

But temper the entertaining and thought-provoking ideas
with the ridiculous and the offensive ones.

Some people honestly believe that the Holocaust did not happen,
that the Boston Marathon was a Government set up 
or that the victims were actors,
that the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting was a hoax,
that the Pentagon was hit by a Government missile in 9/11
that AIDs is the result of a man-made virus spread deliberately via vaccinations
to decrease the population of Africa.

Weird and educational and thought-provoking and funny is all OK
but sadly there can be, at the very least, unpleasant,
and, at worst, immoral and hurtful.

Luckily, most rational people can recognise the difference.

Something I came across listed as a "Conspiracy Theory"
but sounding a lot more like a Zaphod Beeblebox quote
from "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy":

The only way we can defy gravity is to stop believing in it.
That is why birds can fly.
Birds don't believe in gravity.

I guess penguins believe in gravity then.


Tuesday, November 12, 2013

There are some things that you can live without knowing.

Some scientists in the world are trying to find a solution for world poverty and famine.
Others are assessing the problem of global warming.
Countless dedicated people are trying to find a cure for cancer.

While others spend 2 years of their lives swabbing belly buttons
to study naval biodiversity.


Today I found out that belly button fluff (or lint, whatever your preference)
harbours over 2000 different type of bacteria.

And about 1500 of them haven't been found anywhere else.

Can you imagine exactly what is in those jars that people have full of their collected naval lint?


I can never un-know that now.

I wont be playfully disgusted by Mr Boozle's belly button fluff anymore.
I will be truly repulsed.


At this point in time,
I am too scared to ask why it is always blue.

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

The aftermath (Or "There is nothing worse than a reformed coffee addict")


It was 6 weeks ago today that such a tiny organism
created such a huge amount of disruption to my life and my health.

In the past fortnight,
finally, my energy levels and sleep patterns have returned to normal
and the still occasional abdominal cramping (because I ate something that obviously wasn't rice) has stopped.

But my body (or my mindset) is still in a weird place.
Weird good.
But still weird.

My carbohydrate addiction has been stifled.
I still love the little buggers but don't feel the inclination to stuff them in my mouth 
as my preferred food group.

I am craving vegetables.
Which is not something that the pre-Salmonella-run-in me would do.
My cravings usually cover coffee or salt or sugar or spicy or fat or fake flavourings...
Pretty much anything but healthy food.

I am specifically lusting after salad vegetables.

More specifically tomatoes and asparagus.

Fine now but I am screwed at the end of asparagus season in March.

I have gone from consuming 4 to 5 cups of coffee each day
to a total daily consumtion of a big, fat zero cups.
I am totally apathetic about that bean that I once cherished and worshipped.
I have had 1 and 1/2 coffees in the past 6 weeks
(the half being one that I couldn't finish)

The only consumption that I have considered 
is an iced coffee made with
(forgive me now and please don't let me be smited down by the coffee bean gods)
instant coffee.

Mr Boozle believes that the shakes and chills
on those first 3 days were purely caffeine withdrawal
and in no way related to acute food poisoning.

Now I must be clear here- I am not the reformed coffee addict.

I still wake up every morning pining for my love of coffee to return,
feeling like I have lost one of my best friends.

I watch my husband with envy every morning as he stumbles out to the kitchen
and doesn't truly wake up till that first espresso hits the lining of his stomach.

No, the reformed coffee addict of the title would be the perky, chatty, late teen check-out girl
who decided that 44 year old me obviously didn't appreciate that I have been saved
from the evils of coffee (...amen...)
and needed to be reminded of the perils of caffeine consumption
sleeplessness, diuretic leading to dehydration...

Now, there were more on the list but
I forget what else the lecture involved.

Ironically I reckon if I had 5 coffees under my belt,
I might have been awake enough to have heard the rest of the sermon.

(Or run off in the middle for an urgent pee)

I have resorted to buying some green tea,
usually kept for my lunches at the local sushi restaurant,
and some chai tea.
I even considered peppermint or camomile tea there for a minute.
(this from a person who doesn't understand why anyone would want to imbibe their flower garden.)


I am lost, searching for my new vice
while really knowing that nothing can replace my beloved cafe late.

Meanwhile, I am feeling healthier and have not only kept the weight off that I lost during my illness
but have slowly lost more weight.
Not a bad thing.
So I can live with weird for now.

 I guess you could say that 
every dose of Salmonella does come with a silver stomach lining.

Thursday, October 10, 2013

How to lose up to 5 kilograms in 10 days. But I do strongly recommend that you read the fine print.

I am here to tell you about a little weight loss secret.

Forget the Atkins diet and the cabbage soup.
Forget the CSIRO diet and protein shakes.
Forget about Weight Watchers or Jenny Craig.
Forget about eating a tapeworm or those pills that stop you from digesting fat.

If you want to lose weight, fast, cheaply
I strongly recommend a good dose of Salmonella.
It works wonders.

That is all.


The fine print...

Oh, you are still reading.

You want to know more?

Ah, yes.
Completely understandable.

Well, yes, it is a tad more unpleasant than counting calories and spending an hour exercising each day.

Well, yes, OK, it is a lot more unpleasant.

You could well go from feeling completely normal to rocking back and forth
on the bathroom floor with chills, uncontrollable shaking and nausea and cramps within an hour.

You might well spend the next two days in bed
unable to even watch television,
tossing and groaning, alternating between chills and fevers,
with a constant headache and gastrointestinal cramps.

Your partner may well move into the spare room for a week,
running away from the germs and the tossing and groaning.

The cat may follow him.

You could find that you don't sleep or eat for the best part of a week.
That your brain wont shut down and you feel like you are going through some LSD experience 
at a 1960s party every time that you close your eyes.

You might tell your husband that you are not having any more children,
no argument,
which would appear perfectly logical to you in the middle of a toxic episode
even if not to him.
(think along the lines of "Oh crap. This is so awful.
Will I ever remember how bad this was after the event?
It's like child birth.
Now I remember how awful that was.
I am not having any more children,
even if I am already too old and hubby has had the snip.
No more children. You hear me? 
You hear me?")

You might write a letter to John Barrowman in your head,
apologising to him that you were not having lustful thoughts about him at the moment
but that he shouldn't take offense because you also weren't lusting after your husband or chocolate
at the moment either.

You might even feel so bad that you remember thinking that you wouldn't wish this on
the deceitful, malevolent individual who has made your life a misery in the past year.

You will definitely wish,
even more desperately that the whole thing was over and done with,
that no-one else in the family gets it 
because the thought of your children or husband going through the same hell
is unimaginable.

Then you will get over the worse of it
but wonder at how long it takes you to recover.

That 14 days later, you still lack appetite (and still don't want coffee)

That you never appreciate your good health enough when you have it.

Still, considering that people willingly inject toxins into their skin to get rid of wrinkles
or consume tablets that stops them digesting fat so that it literally leaks out their back end
or still go to solariums for a tan even knowing of an increased risk of skin cancer,
there could be a market for this, couldn't there?

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

So let me get this straight.


The 350 native Alaskans who populate the town of Newtok
(plus about 180 other town populations in Alaska)
are being forced to relocate as erosion resulting from global warming effects
is causing their town to sink.
Their town could be underwater as early as 2017 but
finding funding to rebuild such villages for climate change refugees
is a new and challenging task.


There could be as few as 3200 tigers remaining in the wild.


Thousands of people have attempted to reach Australia
on nearly 200 refugee boats
in the first 6 months of this year.


Australian Bureau of Stastitics Census figures indicate that
over 18 000 Australian children under the age of 12 are homeless.


An estimated 125 million women and girls
are living with the consequences of female genital mutilation.

Yet, when 2 human beings who love each other want to get married
but just happen to both have a penis or both have a vagina,
people are fighting as hard as they can to stop gay marriage.



Isn't there something else you can spend your time and energy fighting for?
Something actually worthwhile and for the greater good of our planet?

Preventing the extinction of a species maybe?

Fighting just one of the many human atrocities or injustices
that are occurring in our world at the moment?

In this day and age,
I can't understand why this is even an issue.


Monday, July 15, 2013

Surround yourself with people who make you a better person.


I an a reasonably anti-social creature.
I have a small group of friends that I consider myself close to.
One is from high school,
a few are from university and college;
others from work, my children's school, the internet and so on.

What do they have in common?

They are really good people.

Yes, we all have our failings
(like leaving the toilet seat up
or voting for Clive Palmer)
but the people that I consider my friends are people 
who are generally happy, supportive, honest and generous.

In recent years
I have had the unpleasant experience 
of interacting with people who essentially aren't any of these things.

They have come from immediate family, professionally,
and in my wider friendship group.


They can be unbelievably nasty.
They are selfish
and they are narrow-minded.
They distort the truth to suit them.
They don't think or honestly don't care
about how their actions affect other people.

When I was younger,
I put up with a few so-called friends like that
even though they treated me badly.

These are the sort of people who would make me
start to question my own adequacy
or, worse still, start to act like they do.

But now I am older. 
I have more life experience 
and I have met a lot of really good people.

In the past 12 months,
I have seen people act in the worse way possible
and I have seen others help out with a generosity 
of spirit that has been overwhelming.

I know that is how life goes
but you know what? 

Life is too short.
The arseholes can just bugger off.

When you realise what good human beings are capable of,
you know that you need to surround yourself with them.

They will make you feel better about yourself and life in general.

But, more importantly, 
they make you a better person.


Friday, July 12, 2013

Let them eat cake. After beating it into submission with a rolling pin.

Little Boozle 2013

It has been a long time since I have done any "real" art.
The sort that you do with pencils and paper or paints.
I reckon it was 1987 the last time I did anything significant like this drawing.
It is always something that I am going to get back to when I have the time.

My creative outlet these days comes in the form of sewing, knitting
and making birthday cakes.
With the exception of the occasional purchased ice-cream cake,
each year I wear like a badge of honour 
the hours that I spend making
then decorating a themed birthday cake for each child.

This year we had a request for Pokemon
(note- well worth doing the homework to find the simplest Pokemon character in existence...)

Little Boozle 2013

and my daughter wanted a Dolly Varden cake
(not Dolly Parton cake, as one friend thought.
Barbie's boobies are a tad more discrete than that version)

I was secretely chuffed as I had one of these as a girl.
and you would understand that, in an accumulated 17 boy requested birthday cakes,
my sons had never asked for a pretty doll stuck in a cake.

AMJ 2013

AMJ 2013

(note- well worth investing in a doll that has legs which are disarticulatable
[possibly not a real word, that]
It is not worth the time and effort trying to reason with a 6 year old fairy princess
as to why Barbie's legs had to get sawn off
and no, no glue stick in the world would reattach them)

I am not a girly girl
but I did love the idea of re-creating a cake that my mum made for me
nearly 40 years ago.

While I take a pride in the results I achieve,
I admit that, as the year passes
and as the years pass,
I mark the passing of each set of birthdays with a celebratory booyah
as I get a break before the next round starts.

blog 2013

So when the last cake request for the year involved some creature that was 
pink and round and Japanese and apparently needed to be made from ice-cream,
it seemed timely that I came across a recipe for a pinata cake.

blog 2013

It wasn't a hard sell.

"Hey, lovey.
Wouldn't you prefer me to make you a giant choclate crackle filled with goodies
that you get to whack with a rolling pin then pig out with your mates?"

blog 2013

It was fun to make
and quite fast too, compared to the half day I usually spend decorating the cake.

blog 2013

The end was brutal and it was ugly.
But it was all over very quickly. 
I have to be honest and confess that a cake was definitely harmed in the making
of this 10 year old's birthday.

The siblings have requested their own pinata cakes for their birthdays next year
so I might get to spend a bit less time cake decorating
and maybe pick up a pencil again.

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

Sex Ed. Or why 249 million sperm have to die.


My mother is not a great communicator,
especially when it comes to emotional issues.

I remember calling her from University, distressed that a friend had died,
and her response was "Well, that's not very good, is it?"

When I had reached puberty, she handed me a book.
That was how I learnt about menstruation and other rather significant changes 
that were happening to my body.

In grade 9, if our parents had ticked the appropriate box
and signed the appropriate form,
we were herded off,
girls to Mrs Smith in this room,
boys to Mr Brown in that room,
where Mrs Smith and Mr Brown somewhat uncomfortably
enlightened us on the nitty gritty of the birds and the bees
and how not to have baby birds.

Grade 9.

I can't imagine most kids these days getting to grade 9
without teaching their parents a thing or two about the topic.

Last week, I took my 3 off to the "Where did I come from?" session at school.
I nearly bailed when, in the car ride there, my 9 year old son was explaining to his little sister
that you can't have babies unless you kiss someone or get really close to them
and you have to be married.

Did I really want to ruin that innocence with one graphic sentence
in the school hall?

The seminar had a nice turn out of 5 to 9 year olds
and their parents
and the lady in charge was obviously well practiced
in saying words like "penis" and "sex" to a hall of kids
without showing any evidence of weakness to the pack.

There was a universal "ewwwwww" (from the kids)
when it was explained that the actual way that those sperm cells from daddy 
get to the egg in mummy
is by daddy putting his penis into mummy's vagina.
(My, my. What a difference 10 years will make to that reaction)

Friends had taken their children to a similar seminar
and this got explained as a"special hug" between mummy and daddy
but you know what?
The little kids accepted this new fact about life and went with the flow.

There was a universal titter (from the adults)
when kids were yelling out their household's pet names for female pink bits
and some little one yelled out "trapdoor".

At the end of the evening,
the message that hit home to me was that the kids
took the facts on board, 
processed them and moved on.

We as adults can choose to be embarrassed or vague or deflective
when we get asked those uncomfortable questions that are going to come.
I don't want to hand my kids a book and tell them to read it.
I know that a book should at least be giving the correct information
and I might read that book with them
but I need to be there
to make sure that they are coping OK.

It is important stuff and, heck knows, at times it will be emotional stuff,
especially when they reach the next seminar,
"What is happening to me?"

There are a number of disturbing things about the "Gangnam Style" song
(OK, yes, it is catchy)
but the one that is the top of my list
is seeing 5 and 6 year old children
doing the dance and singing "se-xy la-dy".

We have explained to our kids that sexy is not an appropriate word for them to use 
at their age.
After this talk, they do now have a little understanding about the can of worms
that words like "sex" and "sexy" are opening.

My oldest was a tad non-plussed about the fact
that both sperm and wee came out of the same place in a willy
but was super excited that sperm looked like tadpoles.

My youngest loved the cute pictures of the babies
and took in the information that made sense to her.

Only my 8 year old,
my beloved, sensitive boy,
seemed scarred by the whole evening.

He had already decided that he didn't want to be a woman
because he didn't want to go through the birthing process.

But he was devastated to learn that only 1 of the 250 million sperm
racing for that egg would make it 
and that the other 249 million plus sperm would curl up their toes.

Oh, boy.

I think that puberty and hormones with him is going to be a roller-coaster ride.

Friday, June 28, 2013

House keeping

 I need to dust off my blog a bit 
and give it a spring clean.

In the process, I should also let you know
that, with the imminent demise of google reader,
you can start following me over at Bloglovin'...

Just click on that button over there,
yes, up there in the top left corner;
yes, that's the one.

Or click here:

blog 2013

Wally is so excited, he can't get over there fast enough.
Well, he'll be there when he wakes up, for sure.

Thursday, June 27, 2013

I really hope that blogging is like riding a bicycle.

Little Boozle 2013

I've been more or less missing in (real life's) action
for the past 6 months.

I reckon that I have thought about blogging daily.
I have written long and- I swear- hysterically entertaining or thought provoking posts in my head
as I got on with life.

...things like buying Australian products,
the indignation that John Barrowman didn't get a call up
 for the Dr Who 50th Anniversary special,
 sex ed.,
palm oil,
why some blood isn't thicker than water,
why my child waits until I leave the state to need the emergency room,
 human nature at its very, very best and its very, very worst...

But things just happened.

Things like broken bones
(yes, that would be plural...bones*)
 5 year old Queen Bees,
an overseas visitor,
an education crisis which almost caused me to consider home schooling
(and if you know me, you know that "home schooling" is not a phrase that is compatible
with my temperament.
There is a reason that I became a vet and not a teacher)
four birthdays,
a fiftieth wedding anniversary,
family stress,
seemingly never-ending, non-resolvable business stress,
a trip to Fiji,
a trip to Kangaroo Island
 and the Barossa Valley,
 my annual interstate sewing weekend,
and then a general and ongoing apathy when it came to just sitting down and writing a post.

How can I want to do something so badly
but just can't be bothered?

blog 2013

I have managed to sew and knit
to let off creative steam.

So really it has just

Little Boozle 2013

I am hopeful that the next six months will be a little less hectic
with no broken bones
and a lot less apathy
and that I will start blogging again.
Surely it is just like riding a bicycle.

Little Boozle 2013

(*My toe, which lost the fight with a door frame, has healed now
but my son's arm, which lost the bout with his bed frame,
is still healing.
I think falling over in your bedroom and managing to fracture your arm
in a nasty manner is somewhat freaky
and yet somewhat expected from a kid.
Luckily their healing capacity is also somewhat freaky
in a fabulous way)

Little Boozle 2013

Thursday, June 13, 2013

Jesus Christ. You superstar.

Little Boozle

The last (and only) time I saw a production of Jesus Christ Superstar was in 1992.
The cast covered a good whack of the Who's Who of Australian music at that time.
...John Farnham, Kate Ceberano, Jon Stevens, Angry Anderson...

I was 23 at the time and I was a Uni student.
And, to be honest, I don't remember what I felt about it
(either due to the passage of time
or the fact that there are great big blocks of time at University
that I don't remember)
but I do know that I didn't feel what I felt when I saw the 2013 version last week.

Little Boozle

I hadn't listened to the soundtrack for years
and JCSS has not been on my list of favourite musicals.

But I am a Tim Minchin fan
and yes, OK, I did want to see what Andrew O'Keefe was going to do.

If I had to own up to having a favourite Spice Girl,
it would be Mel C.
(The one who could actually sing)

Plus I was interested to see if Ben Forster lived up to the hype around his portrayal of Jesus.


And wow.

Wow. Wow. Wow. Wow. Wow.Wow. Wow.

By the time Jesus was getting his hot forehead anointed with myrrh by Mary Magdalene,
the production of Wicked that I saw last year has dropped from first place to runner-up
in my list of best. ever. musical productions.

It is set in modern times
(think reality shows, text voting, graffiti and hashtags for Jesus and his supporters,
CCTV cameras and mobile phones)
and is very clever.
It reminded me of Baz Luhrmann's interpretation of  Romeo and Juliet.


We "only" had Forster's understudy, Rory Taylor,
who was "only" just brilliant.

Tim Minchin may not be the world's best singer 
but his voice was fantastic in this role
and the passion and emotion of Judas was breath-taking.
(Added to that he can carry off heavy eye makeup like no other man I know)

(And for anyone who is interested,
Andrew O'Keefe's role involved a single song
and a crushed velvet red suit.

(And for anyone who is interested,
Jon Stevens is ageing well. Very, very well)

I would go and see it again in a heartbeat.
And again.
And again.


I haven't stopped playing the soundtrack since I saw it.
To think that Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd-Webber wrote this 
when they were under 25...the mind boggles.
I am not quite sure why I didn't appreciate how bloody good it was before.
Maybe a long-haired John Farnham just didn't engage me.

In the past week, I have thought more about the story of Jesus and Judas
than I have since I completed my First Holy Communion in my teens.
Even though the ending is...well, let's say somewhat predictable,
whether you have religious beliefs or not,
the story of frailty and betrayal and the desperation
of the characters will move you.

Thursday, March 7, 2013

So do you like your vulva?


I don't know about you but I find that one thing suddenly might start
cropping up all over the place in my life.

Last year, for example, it was zombies.
Telly shows, movie, books, dinner conversations, kids' video games...

It seemed that every time I turned around,
there was the walking dead.

This year, for a complete change of pace,
it is labiaplasty.

Yes, you heard right.


L a b i a p l a s t y .

Besides being one of those words that looks more weird the more time you write it,
it is a word sure to make a girl shudder and cross her legs in the same protective way
that blokes do if you mention a body blow to their goollies.

A friend recently chose to have the elective procedure done
while under anaesthetic for another necessary surgery.

Then, a few weeks back,
Mr Boozle and I watched a British documentary called "The Perfect Vagina".

(Yes, technically it should have been called The Perfect Vulva)

Now, even after I had started writing this post,
an article has arrived in my in-box.

Let me state right from the outset quite clearly that this is a procedure 
most definitely not on my bucket list.
In fact, it is probably on the Top Ten Things that I Don't Want to Do before I die list.
Somewhere between jumping out of a plane and eating a bowl of pea soup.

I am not willing to consider anyone approaching my va-jay-jay with hot wax on a blunt stick,
let alone a sharp scalpel blade.

Apparently it is a procedure that is becomingly increasingly common.
In Australia the surgery may covered by Medicare
and has been performed on girls as young as 14.
(and remember that this would require parental consent)

I do understand that some women have abnormal labias.
Abnormal to the point of them wanting surgery
and believing that this will improve their quality of life.

But this is a surgery that can result in complications
such as infection, decreased sensation and scarring.

What I don't get is a young girl thinking that she needs surgery down there.
What is that about?
Who are girls comparing themselves to?
(Or who are their partners comparing them to?)
Naked women on the internet?
Women in the porn industry would have more "attractive" vulvas
in the same way that their breasts are going to, no doubt, have to meet a certain "porn standard"
Obviously they are not going to represent the normal population of women's bodies.

As a heterosexual woman who is not  involved in a profession that exposes me to women's genitals,
I can say that I don't have a lot of experience with women's vulvas.
The documentary surprised both Mr Boozle and myself
with the range of "normal".
There is a huge amount of variation out there.

And as far as wanting your vulva to be "perfect"...
I don't even really know what that entails.

While I am preparing myself for talks with my daughter
about peer pressure, smoking, birth control, hairy legs
and maybe tattoos,
I can't say that the idea of needing to discuss her self-esteem in the same conversation
as her genitals ever occurred to me.

Yes, the human body is beautiful and should be loved.
But I've got to be honest.

I don't think any pink bits are pretty.
I am not going to call a penis handsome
and I don't think a vulva is what you'd call classically beautiful either.
But it doesn't mean that there is anything wrong with them.

But seriously, our society is going off the rails
if our young girls are wanting artificial boobs and shaved off labias in order to feel good about themselves.

And even worse, if parents are agreeing with it.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Out of the mouths of (growing-up-oh-so-quickly) babes


My oldest child is nearly 10.

A really awkward age when he (mostly) knows how to throw an insult out there
but often doesn't know how bad it is
or even what it means.

In the past 2 days alone,
thanks to assorted friends and books,
he has managed to offend practicing Christians ("for the love of Jesus Christ"),
elderly people (his grandparents are"fossils")
and pretty much anyone in between.

His best to date, however,
was to tell his little brother that he had a big dick.

A teasing fail firstly because his younger brother didn't even know what the word "dick" meant.

And secondly...well, for obvious reasons.

It proved very difficult during the parent-child talk about not using adult words
to restrain myself from explaining why this wasn't actually an insult
and why, one day, he might be praying desperately that someone might say it to him.

Thursday, February 14, 2013

Breathing on my own.

JFM 2013

When I took the kids back to my folk's place in the new year,
my parents were very keen to have the children visit by themselves.
Yes, all three, easily bored, demanding and hyperactive children visit by themselves.

JFM 2013

There was a suggestion of me flying over, leaving them for a week and flying back home 
but I recognise the limitations of both the grandparents and the grandchildren
and felt that it was in the best interests of healthy relationships for all concerned
if I wasn't that far away and if I wasn't gone that long.

JFM 2013

So I took myself off to Hobart for two days.
Two days.
All to myself.
No kids.
No commitments.
Not even a hubby to please.

And oh, it was soooooo good.

JFM 2013

Being a mother,
I feel a certain obligation to announce that I miss my children.
Do you know what I mean?

But in the short term it really is a general absence makes the heart  grow fonder kind of thing.
did I spend two days wondering what they were doing at any given moment,
keen to get back to them
or wishing that I was there to tuck them in?

In all honesty, I didn't.

JFM 2013

I have to be honest and admit that, 
...while I love my kids more than anything on this earth,
while I will defend and protect my children ferociously ,
while I would die to save them,
the whole mother's pledge of honour...
 I sort of thrive when I am apart from them.

JFM 2013

I spent 2 completely self-absorbed days.
I shopped.
I wandered.
I sat in cafes and knitted and watched people.
I sat in my undies in the heat in my hotel room
sitting up late watching movies and drinking iced coffee for dinner.
I wrote blogs posts in my head and started sketching.
I read.

My world, standing on busy city streets, was suddenly a quieter place
without demands of life and family
and it cleared my head.
I swear that I could almost feel my creativitiy returning.

JFM 2013

Something else happened that I wasn't expecting.
I felt really nostalgic about my childhood.

JFM 2013

I spent of lot of time in Hobart as a young child
as my working parents sent my brother and I off to nan and pop's for the holidays.
My nan is gone now,
and it is dozens of years and two houses ago since they lived in this city.

But I remember how much I loved it then
and still love it.
It has history. 
And, for me, many memories.

JFM 2013

We used to ride the ferries when they were working boats
but now the couple left are taken out as tourist attractions

We'd stroll around Salamanca Market,
which is still size, quality and personality.

We used to wander around the docks after the Sydney to Hobart yachts arrived,
though back then it took a lot longer for the boats to get to the finish line.

These are the strong memories,
so many others faded and gone
now that I can no longer have a conversation with my nan and pop
and have them remind me of some experience we shared that I have forgotten.

All memories of times not shared with my mum or dad
which seems fitting in the context of this post.

JFM 2013

I guess I have a guilt thing happening
that I can actually be away from my offspring and be doing a happy dance.
I feel like it is not what I am meant to feel.
I imagine it is similar to what some women feel when, for whatever reason,
they had a C section or bottle-fed their baby.

But my kids are with me in my heart and mind
and I wouldn't have it any other way.
It would seem that I am just a person who needs to breath on my own for a while.

JFM 2013