Family holiday home truths

1. No matter how cute, how beautiful or how interesting,

stick to your guns when explaining that the cute/beautiful/interesting not smelly now thing

found by the 6 year old is best left on the beach rather than cosseted in a plastic bag in a suitcase.

2. I can't sleep in a night-time ferry crossing the Bass Strait in mild/moderate swells.

3. I also can't sleep in a night-time ferry crossing the Bass Strait
in humungous swells and gale force winds,

but at least I can pass the time throwing up.

4. Kids can have Smarties for breakfast at least once in their lives

without being removed from the care of their parents.

5. Your 6 year old ice-cold, numb feet will hurt if you put them straight into a warm shower...

...They will...

...No, I am not lying...

...I. am. not. lying....

...I am 42. You are 6.

Why can't you believe that I could know something that you don't?...
...Why would I lie to you?...

...Fine, have a shower then.

Just don't come running complaining to me when your feet hurt...

6. There is a joy in travelling with older kids

that are weaned off the boob and weaned from nappies

but it is incredible how many times a 4 year old  needs to do a poo.
Now.
Right now.

Only to change her mind once a toilet is secured.

7. I've been to Paradise...

apparently.

8. You are never too young to start learning the realities of life.

9. A little point'n'shoot can take better photos than a digital SLR

when it wants to.

10. Kitsch family tourist photos are necessary.

I am not sure what for exactly
but it gives me a sense of bonding by being dickheads together.

Besides, any day now, the oldest will realise how daggy they are and refuse to participate.
Especially when it is raining with an icy wind.
I hope that we can get to the big pineapple before that happens.
Imagine how good that one will be in the family album!

 

11. "The ants go marching one by one..."

is very useful to keep the little one's legs moving

but after a few days of this tediousness,
mummy and daddy get the sniggers over the lewd possibilities.

while the older kids try to rhyme as many numbers as possible with fart.
Or poo.
Or bum.
Or penis.

12. Nothing beats getting home to your own bed.
Bliss.

Returning...

...a holidayed-out family,

 weary but happy

and secure in the knowledge

that a fast-food-chain meal box

can be put to good use by a 4 year old during an 8 hour car ride.

(Our kids consider the Golden Arches a novelty
associated with long car trips.
Probably why they want to get maximum value for that meal deal)

I think I can. I think I can.

I think I can.

I think I can.

Nah.

Apparently I can't.

 

And apparently I need to clean the bathroom mirror.







Chalice Cowl- Julia Trice- on rav here

I made this too big and now I am not sure how to wear it.
I will keep experimenting because I love the yarn.

To each their own.

That's what I believe.

As long as you aren't hurting anyone else.

And wouldn't the world be super boring if we were all the same?

This morning over my breakfast cereal,

I came across an article in the newspaper about

the increase in body modification surgeries.

I have had various (visible) earrings (as in ear- rings; not anywhere else)

 and I do have my yuppie tattoo on my shoulder blade.

I really, really wanted to get my eyebrow pierced
but couldn't while working as a professional in conservative circles

and I love the look of  piercing of that cartilage flap at the front of your ear.

(aamna-shariff.com)

However, I don't love the idea the pain of piercing thick cartilage

so I don't think that I will ever go there.

But I amazed at what people are chosing to do to their bodies

in the name of ...what? Creativity? Individuality? Art?

(listverse.com)



(Cos haven't you always wanted to be able to do this?)

(tym2laff.blogspot.com)

The idea of implanting foreign material into my body isn't appealing at all.

(fazeteen.com)

But I find it fascinating.

(twinkledreams-home.blogspot)

Corset piercing, branding, tongue forking, ear pointing, implants, ear stretching.

(lovelyish.com)

I usually cast a furtive glance in the direction of individuals who make such a striking physical statement

but really, I assume that they would welcome the attention.

Not many shy retiring people would walk around shyly with metal spikes sticking out of their head.

I think that I now look at young individuals and the choices that they make

as a parent and wonder how I'd react if one of my kids came home with a pair of implanted horns

or elfed ears.

(lizardkitsch.tumblr.com)

10 years ago, my reaction was "Would I ever chose do that?"
Now it's "Will my kids ever chose to do that?"

I like to think that I am open minded but I am not sure that my reaction would be sedate,
especially if the changes were difficult to reverse,

mainly as I think that they would be judged poorly in mainstream life.

But I'd be cool with one of them being rebellious enough to get an eyebrow ring.

I could live my rebellious piercing streak vicariously through them.

My happy space: 3rd July 2011

Today I am simply posting some images to make you smile.

I figure that I probably have a pretty variable group of blog readers

so I am hoping that if I post a few different snaps,

you might find something that you like.

(dextersmommy.tumblr.com)

*Mandatory cute animal photo*

(felasy.com)

*Mandatory pretty fashion photo*

(ticklebear4you.com)



*Mandatory gratuitous semi-naked man photo*

(onuroda.seesaa.net)

*Mandatory cute baby photo*

(beaumitchell.com)

*Mandatory gorgeous nature photo*

(sophiemediaarts.blogspot.com)

*Mandatory cute baby posing with cute animal photo*

(celebritystatus.com)

*Mandatory role model photo*

Er,...um,...my bad.

Make that *Mandatory Wanker Celebrity whose fangs are dripping tiger blood photo*

(sodahead.com)

*Mandatory um....hitchikers with 6 packs and not much else photo*

(OK really another gratuitous semi-naked men photo.

You can always close your eyes if you really want to)

And, lastly,...

(1000funfacts.com)

(ispyanimals.com)

(1000funfacts.com)

...just because they are cool.

Hope that you all have a great week

with a few belly laughs along the way.

Flamingo fun.

(Flamingo is another one of those words that looks really wrong if you write it enough.)

(merit.manufacturer.com)

I grew up visiting my grandfolks
who had one of those fabulous cement flamingo garden statues

in their front garden,

nestled amongst the cement garden gnomes, rose bushes and prickly pears.

(This was Tasmania in the 1970s. Prickly pears were in gardens,

at least in Tasmania, back then.)

I loved it

and have always harboured a secret "want" to have one in my own garden ever since

Of course, nowadays, you can't easily (at all?) get a good cement flamingo.

Hard to even find a photo of those original ones anywhere on the web.
I couldn't find a single one that was my memory of my grandfolk's garden.

Surprise, surprise.

There is a plethora of plastic ones and even aluminium ones

but not those solid cement ones that they made in the 50s.

Yeah, the plastic ones are cute

but they are, well, plastic.

(anniethology.blogspot.com)

When travelling overseas in 2001,

we saw the gorgeous creatures in real life in Spain.

(carinbondar.com)

I wont turn around and tell you that I have 174 flamingo ornaments

or anything like that.

Though having searched the web for flamingos this morning,

the words "tacky" and "flamingo ornament" seem to go well together.

I do, however, have a couple hanging around my sewing space.

So, when the talented Vic offered to draw me something,

I thought a flamingo would be appropriate.

Vic has many talents.

The two most notable ones are her op shopping karma

and the other is her creativity.

Isn't it gorgeous?

And so me.

Thanks, Vic.

I love it.

My happy space

(weheartit.com)


There is so much worry and crap and horrible stuff happening in our world these days.

Let's brighten up a bit and lighten up a bit.

I am going to start a weekly post, My happy space.

(I was tossing around "My Happy Place"...
but that conjures up images of pyjama weekends, lots of wine and old movies
and that might get a bit tedious...for you guys, anyway)

No doom and gloom.

No grumpiness, no elevated blood pressure, no ulcers.

No negativity. No stress.

Just good things.

It might be a quote, a picture, a joke, a feel good story.

I am just going to make it up as I go along.

But it will hopefully give you a moment when you will laugh or smile

and not have to worry about the things happening out there for a minute.

(dare2dreamllc.com)

A smidge of knitting, a dash of Italy and a truckload of photos.

I follow instructions.

Recipes, sewing patterns, knitting instructions;
heck, even for Ikea cupboards...

I work better given formulas and specific amounts.

"Winging it" or "making it up as I go along" in not really in my nature.

I am not sure if this is because I studied the science subjects at school

or why I studied science at school.

But I suspect the need for structure came with my personality.

(I do remember, however, having to make it up as I went along in Italy

when, as navigator to hubby's chauffeur, 

I was presented with the dilemma of a red light with a "green straight ahead" arrow

right next to it.

I can't remember what we did at the time

but my memory of driving in Italy is that you drive how you want but with excessive confidence

and she'll be right, mate)



As a creative person,
I am frustrated by my inability to fulfill that part of the creative process.

It isn't that I don't want break out and rebel.
Heck, I have even ditched a couple of sewing pattern instructions recently,
thinking that I could do it a bit better.

And I can boil an egg without a recipe. Promise.

But me making things up would appear to be a (wait for it) recipe for disaster
(Oh, c'mon- you just can't beat a good pun)

It is just the way my brain works.
But I really do envy those people with the confidence and the talent
to create patterns and make up recipes.

But I guess they need customers, don't they?

Squishy Love- Amanda Keeys
modified (yes, modified) by the highly technical method
of using bulkier wool and bigger needles.

When will I, will I be famous?

I had a Shirley Valentine moment at the weekend.

(bizrate.com)

(For those of you who don't know or remember this 1989 movie,

Pauline Collins plays a British housewife

(who is my current age)

who runs away from her depressing, tedious domestic life to Greece

and, to cut a long story short, "finds herself")

The day started with a fight with Mr Boozle

( I don't handle fights well.

We don't do it very often and we don't do it very well)

Then two of the spawn of Satan...er, I mean, children tag teamed tantrums throughout the day.

The other offspring was exceptionally quiet...

probably due to the fact that he was five kilometres away at a birthday party.

There was washing to be done,

a never-ending to do list of chores,

another family meal to make...

(boldsparrow.blogspot.com)

I just wanted out.

I wanted something different.

Something more inspiring.

More exciting.

If I died tomorrow, the eulogy from my hubby might go a bit like this:
"I love her to bits.

I can't live without her.

Now she's gone, I can't find the kids' lunch boxes or their socks

and I wish she'd come back just to tell me which kids eats what.

But wow, the credit card bill is healthier"

My kids might say:

"She was crabby and grumpy

and played crap 80s music
(note post title- they have a point)

but she told us that she loved us every day.

We wish she'd come back and tell daddy where the socks are.
Our feet are cold."

Do I aspire to more?

Do I want to be remembered for more than being a wife and a mum?

Do I want to be more...known...or even famous?

The funny thing is I would want anonymous fame.

I would want to have my name come up around the dinner table-

but not in that rock-n-roll or Parisian catwalk or Hollywood kind of way.

(seo-writer.com)

There would be way too many free kicks for the paparazzi

(hanging washing out with bed hair in my PJs and my ugg boot slippers would suddenly come at a price)

I can't imagine losing my privacy and anonymity.

Plus I am too old for groupies.

(ehow.com)

(Of course, I wouldn't mind financial rewards that could come with being famous either)

I've left it way too late to discover penicillin.

But if I could  knock over those bloody cane toads, I'd be in with a chance.

I could write a best-selling novel.

I am sure Harry Potter was originally a little thought over a bowl of breakfast cereal.

I am not sure where my potential for fame lies.
Or even if it exists.

I guess on my death bed,

it is my hubby and kids telling me that they love me 

that will give me a sense of achievement.

But I suspect that I am still going to channel Shirley

some days in the meantime.