So, there's one of those posts going around on facebook at the moment which makes me want fill people's feeds with a facebook rant...oh wait I have a blog for that.
This is what it says "Anyone can call themselves a parent, but a REAL parent puts their children's lives before their own selfish needs and wants".
OH FFS. GET REAL PEOPLE. This is just one of those Judgy McJudgster from Judgeville posts that is judgemental and designed to make other people feel bad. Why do you want to do that?
First of all, by it's very definition a NEED isn't selfish.
I NEED air, water, food, shelter. How is that selfish and how does that make me a bad parent?
I NEED to work. I'm a single parent. If I don't work, I don't get the food, water, shelter part of my first need. How is that selfish and how does that make me a bad parent?
Oh that's right it's NOT and it DOESN'T.
Secondly, wanting things isn't selfish. You are ALLOWED to want things. It doesn't mean you always get them - but it is NOT bad parenting to want things.
I want a job I love. I'm lucky I have one. It's not selfish of me nor does it make me a bad parent to aim to have this. If you don't currently have this yourself and WANT this for yourself, it doesn't make you a bad parent. You know what it is - it's GOOD. It teaches your children about determination, hard work and the satisfaction of a job well done.
I want friends in my life. It's not selfish of me, nor does it make me a bad parent to have them. I'm lucky. I have many good friends. You know what it is - it's GOOD. It teaches my children that I value different people, with different lives, different experiences and it teaches them that I am a person OUTSIDE of "mum".
I want hobbies in my life. It's not selfish of me, nor does it make me a bad parent to have them. I'm lucky. I have a great hobby. It's musical theatre. You know what it is - it's GOOD. It teaches my children about creative expression, belonging to a team, working together and being part of a community.
I want to live in my own house and be financially secure. It's not selfish of me, nor does it make me a bad parent. I have neither. I'm renting and my job (which I love) is "casual". I work every day of the week, but I'm a casual employee. I'm working towards making it full time and I'm saving my hardest to one day have enough to put a deposit on a house. You know what it is - it's GOOD. It teaches my kids that you can't always get what you want - but that it's okay to keep trying and it's good to work towards goals.
Do my kids sometimes have to sit in a cafe while I catch up with my friends? Yes. They do. They learn about manners, they learn about appropriate behaviour in social situations, they learn about the give and take of friendships.
Do my kids sometimes have to attend rehearsals while I'm doing a show? Yes. They do. They learn that chasing dreams does NOT have an age limit. They learn that being passionate about something in life fills up your emotional cup (so to speak) which then allows you to fill others.
Do my kids sometimes see me scratch my head and get stressed about how to pay the bills? Do my kids see me budget and say no to things because I can't afford them? Yes. They do. They learn to live within their means. They learn financial responsibility. They learn money doesn't grow on trees. They learn that you have to earn the money to pay the bills and that sometimes you have to go without. They learn delayed gratification.
Do I work my arse off to give them the best education I can? Yes. Do I make sure they have extracurricular activities outside school that they can enjoy? Yes. Do I make sure they catch up with friends and family so they can value those relationships? Yes. Do I make sure they are fed, clothed, cleaned and sufficiently rested to stay healthy? Yes.
Do I give my kids everything they want at my expense? HELL NO. What the hell would that teach them? It would give them a sense of entitlement they shouldn't have. It would teach them that they are the centre of the universe and they're not. They are two people on a planet with over 7 billion other people. If I did that I would be raising two of the most selfish, arrogant, egotistical, ill-mannered, boring poopyholes to roam the earth. THAT'S BAD PARENTING.
I want to raise compassionate, empathetic, reasonable, logical, kind, passionate, loyal, loving, considerate men. That starts with me showing them about life with all its needs and wants - and I can't do that if I don't have one.
Tuesday, 21 May 2013
Tuesday, 15 January 2013
We Hate You. Buy Me Please.
So this morning as I drank my freshly made apple, celery and watermelon juice (guess who got a juicer for Christmas!) I opened a "women's" magazine and started flicking through the pages. Now before I go any further I'm going to announce that I do not buy or regularly read this type of magazine. I read one international magazine regularly for two years but only because I was given a subscription to it - and it was not a "buy it at the checkout" style magazine. This particular magazine was left at my place by a friend who had dropped by and left it behind.
But out of curiosity I started flicking through the pages of it and I came to the rapid conclusion that these magazines, edited by women, made for women and purchased by women are not a good thing. In fact I think that these magazines are the passive aggressive frenemy of the "sisterhood". They hate you. They want you to hate you. So that you'll keep buying them to find out what will make you happy and perfect and lovable. And I'm MAD AS HELL AND NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANYMORE.
This is what I saw/read/was subjected to/offended by in the pages of this magazine:
Open magazine: Berate celebrity woman for having work done. Turn page. Berate different celebrity woman for looking old. Turn page. Berate thin celebrity women in bikinis for being a bag of bones and beg them to eat something. Turn page. Berate overweight celebrity women for wearing a bikini while she has cellulite. Turn page. Recipe for healthy eating (presumably for overweight women in bikinis). Turn page. Recipe for decadent dessert (presumably for thin women who need nourishment). Turn page. CELEBRATE celebrity dad for "babysitting" his own children in playground and wax philosophically on what an amazing HUMAN he is and how LUCKY his wife is. Turn page. Celebrity psychic answering letters from women telling them they will find the right man, or they already have the right man and don't mess it up. Turn page. Horoscope. The only page that isn't actually berating women for not being too thin, too fat, too old, too fake, too single, too married, too career focused, too 1950s housewife.
WHAT. THE. HELL. I couldn't find one article that celebrated a woman for being good at anything she did! Is it impossible to find a woman who's doing amazing things that aren't related to her weight? Aren't there a host of terrific people out there, volunteering in their community, breaking down barriers, doing amazing research, telling great stories, whatever they're choosing to do and doing it well, that are worthy of women (and men) knowing about?
All I know is, that at the end of reading this "magazine" I completely understand why women are so hard on themselves. They are constantly being told they are not good enough. By. Other. Women.
I'm here to say, put down the magazine. Life your life. Be happy in it and love yourself. Because these magazines sure as hell don't love you.
Monday, 12 November 2012
What I did for love
As a parent of two school age children I am obliged to attend school functions and extra-curricular sports, theatre and musical activities.
So I need to start by saying this: Mum, Dad I have new level of respect for you. As the kid who joined two calisthenic clubs, played guitar, joined every musical group, debating group and drama group during school I now understand the torture you went through attending every single function I was involved in. I feel like I should apologise profusely, but I'm pretty sure I was good enough to hold your attention for all those years (at least that's how I prefer to remember it).
Tonight I attended a "musical soiree" put on my by eldest son's school. That's a fancy pants way of naming the musical torture session I sat through for 2-and-a-half hours with only one plastic cup of really bad wine to help ease the pain. But kudos to the school for serving wine. You don't get that at primary school level. I have long advocated for wine to be served at the weekly assemblies. Yes I know they start at 9am. Have you sat through one of these assemblies? No. Shut up then.
I don't know about you other parents, but I'm really only interested in the 3-and-a-half minutes my kid is on stage for.
At first I thought it might be fun to turn the evening into a drinking game. One sip for every bum note. I finished my drink in the first number. I was too far away from the wine to get another cup without tripping over a host of nannas, and being too embarrassed to whisper excuse me 52 times to reach the wine table, I had to sit through this sober*.
*I'm not an alcoholic, but at these events I consider it.
I checked the program with great hope, thinking if my kid's number came up early we could leave by interval. No such luck. Item 21 on the list. 30 items all up.
The second kid up played the Star Wars Theme on the guitar. It's not the same without the John Williams orchestra. It needs a horn section. I also had to bite back the urge to say the monologue form the movie aloud in the hall - but I really did wish I was in a galaxy far, far away.
Then some kids played Mozart on the flute, which was followed up by a kid who played Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns n Roses. I really wanted someone to belt out OOOOOOOOOHHHH Sweet Child O' Mine from the audience. But apparently this isn't done at a Catholic School. Still you can't complain about the diversity of music on offer.
Bla bla bla some flutes, some trumpets and some drum solos. Note to all teachers: Unless you are rock star along the lines of Dave Grohl, 10 minute drum solos are not interesting to anyone.
But then they bought out the kids who played the BONGOS. BONGOS. They never would have allowed skiving off like that in my day. I have no idea what they played, but they were comical, because they were BONGOS.
This was followed up some kids who played "Wild Thing" on the xylophones. I found this hysterically funny and had to seriously stop myself from a standing ovation at the end of that song. Well done 12 year olds for being amazingly uncool and cool all at the same time.
My kids turn is up. He's playing in the year 8 band. The teacher announces that all students have been learning this song for the entire term BUT this was the very first time they have actually all played in the same room. VERY. FIRST. TIME. I want to face palm but figure that's rude so I don't. They are surprisingly good and I'm pretty sure that Pseudo Echo would be proud.
The obligatory guitarists come up and crank Deep Purple out of their amps. I'm pretty sure it's a legal requirement for all students to learn Smoke on the Water. The people around me were not happy when I sang "fire in the sky" out loud. Whatever. Haters gonna hate.
The obviously save the better kids for the second half of the soiree and there was a great pianist and guitar player who rocked a 12 string John Butler style. I do take my hat off to him. He did not take his hat off to play though. I guess he figured if it's good enough for John Butler then it's good enough for him. School policy says no dreads though, which made me feel like he didn't really commit hard enough.
But they decide to finish off the night with the saxaphone band. Just made of up saxaphones, a few saxaphones and a saxaphone.
They did three numbers. I swear the first jazz/swing number lasted 10 minutes. People unless you're passing a doobie around at 9:30pm (and I'm pretty sure that's frowned upon in the school system) no one wants to hear a 10 minute jazz piece performed by 8 saxaphonists - NO MATTER HOW GOOD THEY ARE. Okay except their parents. Sheesh, pedantic much?
Okay, so it wasn't quite as bad as that. Okay so yes it was. But I liked the 3-and-a-half minutes my kid was on stage. He took me to funkytown.
So I need to start by saying this: Mum, Dad I have new level of respect for you. As the kid who joined two calisthenic clubs, played guitar, joined every musical group, debating group and drama group during school I now understand the torture you went through attending every single function I was involved in. I feel like I should apologise profusely, but I'm pretty sure I was good enough to hold your attention for all those years (at least that's how I prefer to remember it).
Tonight I attended a "musical soiree" put on my by eldest son's school. That's a fancy pants way of naming the musical torture session I sat through for 2-and-a-half hours with only one plastic cup of really bad wine to help ease the pain. But kudos to the school for serving wine. You don't get that at primary school level. I have long advocated for wine to be served at the weekly assemblies. Yes I know they start at 9am. Have you sat through one of these assemblies? No. Shut up then.
I don't know about you other parents, but I'm really only interested in the 3-and-a-half minutes my kid is on stage for.
At first I thought it might be fun to turn the evening into a drinking game. One sip for every bum note. I finished my drink in the first number. I was too far away from the wine to get another cup without tripping over a host of nannas, and being too embarrassed to whisper excuse me 52 times to reach the wine table, I had to sit through this sober*.
*I'm not an alcoholic, but at these events I consider it.
I checked the program with great hope, thinking if my kid's number came up early we could leave by interval. No such luck. Item 21 on the list. 30 items all up.
The second kid up played the Star Wars Theme on the guitar. It's not the same without the John Williams orchestra. It needs a horn section. I also had to bite back the urge to say the monologue form the movie aloud in the hall - but I really did wish I was in a galaxy far, far away.
Then some kids played Mozart on the flute, which was followed up by a kid who played Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns n Roses. I really wanted someone to belt out OOOOOOOOOHHHH Sweet Child O' Mine from the audience. But apparently this isn't done at a Catholic School. Still you can't complain about the diversity of music on offer.
Bla bla bla some flutes, some trumpets and some drum solos. Note to all teachers: Unless you are rock star along the lines of Dave Grohl, 10 minute drum solos are not interesting to anyone.
But then they bought out the kids who played the BONGOS. BONGOS. They never would have allowed skiving off like that in my day. I have no idea what they played, but they were comical, because they were BONGOS.
This was followed up some kids who played "Wild Thing" on the xylophones. I found this hysterically funny and had to seriously stop myself from a standing ovation at the end of that song. Well done 12 year olds for being amazingly uncool and cool all at the same time.
My kids turn is up. He's playing in the year 8 band. The teacher announces that all students have been learning this song for the entire term BUT this was the very first time they have actually all played in the same room. VERY. FIRST. TIME. I want to face palm but figure that's rude so I don't. They are surprisingly good and I'm pretty sure that Pseudo Echo would be proud.
The obligatory guitarists come up and crank Deep Purple out of their amps. I'm pretty sure it's a legal requirement for all students to learn Smoke on the Water. The people around me were not happy when I sang "fire in the sky" out loud. Whatever. Haters gonna hate.
The obviously save the better kids for the second half of the soiree and there was a great pianist and guitar player who rocked a 12 string John Butler style. I do take my hat off to him. He did not take his hat off to play though. I guess he figured if it's good enough for John Butler then it's good enough for him. School policy says no dreads though, which made me feel like he didn't really commit hard enough.
But they decide to finish off the night with the saxaphone band. Just made of up saxaphones, a few saxaphones and a saxaphone.
They did three numbers. I swear the first jazz/swing number lasted 10 minutes. People unless you're passing a doobie around at 9:30pm (and I'm pretty sure that's frowned upon in the school system) no one wants to hear a 10 minute jazz piece performed by 8 saxaphonists - NO MATTER HOW GOOD THEY ARE. Okay except their parents. Sheesh, pedantic much?
Okay, so it wasn't quite as bad as that. Okay so yes it was. But I liked the 3-and-a-half minutes my kid was on stage. He took me to funkytown.
Friday, 5 October 2012
Falling in love again...
Remember that feeling when you first hold your newborn and you think this is the purest and most perfect love I will ever have for another human being? Well, I think that's happening to me again. Only my kids are now "Mum I'm nearly 14" and "Mum I'm 9 not 8".
The first few years of your children's lives are amazing. Full of firsts. First smile, first rollover, first steps, first tooth, first words are all super exciting. Then come the toddler years and the first frustrations of parenthood really hit home. Tantrums, boundaries, disappointments (theirs and yours) and the sheen comes off somewhat. It's not that you don't love them, just that the reality of the day to day life of living with little people hits home.
Then come the early school years which, I must admit, can be totally adorable. But a lot of the time, at the end of the day you're dealing with a tired, cranky kid (even the best of them) and your nights can be full of planning strategies of coping.
Now that being said, my kids are pretty great. They're not perfect. There are days when I give myself timeouts from the petty arguments, the food spills and just the general noise that two boys can create in the space of one day.
But lately, I've found myself falling in love with them all over again. Not that I fell out of love, ever. but certain ages presented certain challenges and the occasional testosterone charge made life...well...interesting.
But my nearly 14 year old is turning into one of the coolest kids I know. I seriously would LIKE him even if he wasn't my kid. He's smart, independent and has the driest sense of humour that leaps out unexpectedly at you and has you snorting inelegantly at the dinner table, plus he does the meanest Irish accent I've ever heard. He's also a total sports nut and watching him talk sport with men and being taken seriously is amazing. I also like that he deepens his voice a little when in a group of males. I can see him "manifying" in front of me. But he does sweet things like grab my hand when we're walking or offers his arm like an old-fashioned 19th century gentleman as we walk the dog. This does juxtapose nicely with the fart joke he is telling me.
My I'm 9-not-8 year old is a different kettle of fish. He lives on his own planet, but let me tell you it's a great place to visit. I find myself having conversations with him that resemble Salvador Dali or Picasso paintings. You're never quite sure what they mean, but they're definitely fun to analyse. He's also quite willing to drop whatever he's doing and burst into song and dance with you at almost any occasion. (Gangnam style down the supermarket aisle anyone?). He's also writing his first novel (he thinks it will take three years to finish the story arc he has in mind), but at the same time he hasn't grown out of singing as he poops from when he was a toddler. (It's how we got him to sit still long enough). There's nothing funnier than hearing LMFAO's I'm Sexy and I Know It coming from your toilet.
So, even though life is not perfect and filled with conversations that start with "your room does not have a floordrobe" and "if I step on one more piece of freakin' lego" and "we do not put cheezels up your brothers nose" and "if you can't play without arguing I'll turn the G-DAMN WII OFF" I have to say that this time, right now, is the time I'm enjoying the most as a parent.
I'm not sure exactly why that is, I'm just grateful. It could all change in an instant. Life's like that.
The first few years of your children's lives are amazing. Full of firsts. First smile, first rollover, first steps, first tooth, first words are all super exciting. Then come the toddler years and the first frustrations of parenthood really hit home. Tantrums, boundaries, disappointments (theirs and yours) and the sheen comes off somewhat. It's not that you don't love them, just that the reality of the day to day life of living with little people hits home.
Then come the early school years which, I must admit, can be totally adorable. But a lot of the time, at the end of the day you're dealing with a tired, cranky kid (even the best of them) and your nights can be full of planning strategies of coping.
Now that being said, my kids are pretty great. They're not perfect. There are days when I give myself timeouts from the petty arguments, the food spills and just the general noise that two boys can create in the space of one day.
But lately, I've found myself falling in love with them all over again. Not that I fell out of love, ever. but certain ages presented certain challenges and the occasional testosterone charge made life...well...interesting.
But my nearly 14 year old is turning into one of the coolest kids I know. I seriously would LIKE him even if he wasn't my kid. He's smart, independent and has the driest sense of humour that leaps out unexpectedly at you and has you snorting inelegantly at the dinner table, plus he does the meanest Irish accent I've ever heard. He's also a total sports nut and watching him talk sport with men and being taken seriously is amazing. I also like that he deepens his voice a little when in a group of males. I can see him "manifying" in front of me. But he does sweet things like grab my hand when we're walking or offers his arm like an old-fashioned 19th century gentleman as we walk the dog. This does juxtapose nicely with the fart joke he is telling me.
My I'm 9-not-8 year old is a different kettle of fish. He lives on his own planet, but let me tell you it's a great place to visit. I find myself having conversations with him that resemble Salvador Dali or Picasso paintings. You're never quite sure what they mean, but they're definitely fun to analyse. He's also quite willing to drop whatever he's doing and burst into song and dance with you at almost any occasion. (Gangnam style down the supermarket aisle anyone?). He's also writing his first novel (he thinks it will take three years to finish the story arc he has in mind), but at the same time he hasn't grown out of singing as he poops from when he was a toddler. (It's how we got him to sit still long enough). There's nothing funnier than hearing LMFAO's I'm Sexy and I Know It coming from your toilet.
So, even though life is not perfect and filled with conversations that start with "your room does not have a floordrobe" and "if I step on one more piece of freakin' lego" and "we do not put cheezels up your brothers nose" and "if you can't play without arguing I'll turn the G-DAMN WII OFF" I have to say that this time, right now, is the time I'm enjoying the most as a parent.
I'm not sure exactly why that is, I'm just grateful. It could all change in an instant. Life's like that.
Monday, 24 September 2012
Girl Afraid
I see a tonne of wonderful quotes I'm sure they attribute to the "they" known in "they say". You know the ones. The life inspiring, life affirming, positive attitude quotes that are designed mostly to make you feel bad for laying on the couch and watching an entire season of True Blood while eating Tim Tams nonstop on a nice sunny day.
The one I see the popping out at me on Pinterest the most is "WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOU WEREN'T AFRAID". It's always written in a swirly font with the backdrop of an inspiring sunset that makes you sigh and it got me to thinking about what I'd do if I wasn't afraid. That was after I'd thought stop it Pinterest and just show me some great outfits/recipes and funny memes about Harry Potter and Twilight.
1. I'd ride more rollercoasters. I have to admit it I'm always worried that I'll be that .01% that will fall out of the damn ride.
2. I'd ditch someone I don't consider a friend anymore. Yeah that's not nice is it? But the world is messy, my friend and I've truly outgrown this person and the drama that comes with them. But damn it we're friends on facebook too and even though I haven't seen them in real life for 6 months I still feel obliged to stay facebook friends with them.
3. I'd wear more dresses. Back to the shallow. I'm always worried the skirt will flip up and expose the fact that I really like boy leg underwear and not pretty, feminine, lacy underwear. (Hey, the lace scratches okay?)
4. I'd finish writing my novel. Oh c'mon if Stephenie Meyer and EL James can get published....
5. I'd try camel. I've always wanted to try to eat something exotic. But let's not go overboard here. I don't want to eat anything that is raw or that comes from the ocean. Just sayin': there's afraid and there's just plain yucky.
6. *language warning* There's a whole list of people I'd yell F*CK OFF AND THEN F*CK OF SOME MORE AND WHEN YOU GET THERE F*CK OFF FURTHER. IN FACT KEEP F*CKING OFF UNTIL YOU GET BACK HERE AND THEN F*CK OFF AGAIN. They are 4WD drivers who never leave the metro area and drive and park like no other people exist, people who slant their trollies to face the middle of the shopping aisle so you can't get past them, people who talk really loudly on their mobile phones while on public transport and all the Kardashians. Seriously. Just. Go. Away.
7. Tell "Mr Rochester" (I'm changing the name to protect the innocent) that I really, really like him and think we'd be great together. Yep. I'd lay it on the line, put my heart out there for the very possible sting of rejection. In fact I even have a plan for how I'd get him to like me back. There's a big concert at the end of term and he's going to be in it. I thought, if I was in the concert and played really, really well, there's a chance he might fall in love....oh wait no, that's the plot of Love Actually. Damn.
But I get ahead of myself. Maybe I should start with the rollercoasters. If I can last on one of those rides without actually turning green and throwing up I may just be ready to tackle the rest.
What would you do?
The one I see the popping out at me on Pinterest the most is "WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOU WEREN'T AFRAID". It's always written in a swirly font with the backdrop of an inspiring sunset that makes you sigh and it got me to thinking about what I'd do if I wasn't afraid. That was after I'd thought stop it Pinterest and just show me some great outfits/recipes and funny memes about Harry Potter and Twilight.
1. I'd ride more rollercoasters. I have to admit it I'm always worried that I'll be that .01% that will fall out of the damn ride.
2. I'd ditch someone I don't consider a friend anymore. Yeah that's not nice is it? But the world is messy, my friend and I've truly outgrown this person and the drama that comes with them. But damn it we're friends on facebook too and even though I haven't seen them in real life for 6 months I still feel obliged to stay facebook friends with them.
3. I'd wear more dresses. Back to the shallow. I'm always worried the skirt will flip up and expose the fact that I really like boy leg underwear and not pretty, feminine, lacy underwear. (Hey, the lace scratches okay?)
4. I'd finish writing my novel. Oh c'mon if Stephenie Meyer and EL James can get published....
5. I'd try camel. I've always wanted to try to eat something exotic. But let's not go overboard here. I don't want to eat anything that is raw or that comes from the ocean. Just sayin': there's afraid and there's just plain yucky.
6. *language warning* There's a whole list of people I'd yell F*CK OFF AND THEN F*CK OF SOME MORE AND WHEN YOU GET THERE F*CK OFF FURTHER. IN FACT KEEP F*CKING OFF UNTIL YOU GET BACK HERE AND THEN F*CK OFF AGAIN. They are 4WD drivers who never leave the metro area and drive and park like no other people exist, people who slant their trollies to face the middle of the shopping aisle so you can't get past them, people who talk really loudly on their mobile phones while on public transport and all the Kardashians. Seriously. Just. Go. Away.
7. Tell "Mr Rochester" (I'm changing the name to protect the innocent) that I really, really like him and think we'd be great together. Yep. I'd lay it on the line, put my heart out there for the very possible sting of rejection. In fact I even have a plan for how I'd get him to like me back. There's a big concert at the end of term and he's going to be in it. I thought, if I was in the concert and played really, really well, there's a chance he might fall in love....oh wait no, that's the plot of Love Actually. Damn.
But I get ahead of myself. Maybe I should start with the rollercoasters. If I can last on one of those rides without actually turning green and throwing up I may just be ready to tackle the rest.
What would you do?
Wednesday, 19 September 2012
I wanna hold your hand...
I'm not 17 anymore...in fact I'm not even 40 anymore, but sometimes I still feel like I'm 17. Like right now. Totes. It's because I have a crush on a boy. Okay - scratch that. I have a crush on a man. A manly man. A straight shooting, ambitious, strong, emotional, private, caring man. Having a crush on someone must be the most wonderfully torturous feeling in the world. It's hard to think straight when you're deep in crush. Especially if you happen to be around your crush.
Every look they shoot you, every word they say, every twist of the shoulder, every hand movement becomes significant (well if you're a woman at least!)
I think having a crush is the best feeling in the world. It's full of potential. No reality has set in, every flaw is endearing and life has promise.
Some people (eg my wolf pack) are quite frankly, sick to death of hearing about my crush. One has even gone so far as to say that until I f*ck my crush they don't want to hear his name mentioned ever again. (Should I be crass? Yeah, why not... I'd like to "oblige" my friend in this instance LOL winky emoticon).
The only problem with having a crush is not being able to act on it. Yes, there are various reasons why I can't just say "Hey this is crazy but here's my number so call me maybe". One of those reasons is that's a Carly Rae Jepsen song that's super annoying on the radio at the moment. The other reasons...well that's for me to know!
So at the moment, I can honestly say that my life is pretty fantastic at the moment. Potential and promise, dreams and fantasy are keeping me warm at night (along with Fifty Shades of Grey - yeah I know, tragic but I'm single so cut me some slack!)
So until my crush magically figures out that we would make an awesome couple, fictional characters and some late night daydreams will have to suffice (it's okay if some of them are about Matt LeNevez, right?)
But funnily enough all of the late night daydreams start with simply, just wanting to hold his hand. The good ones don't end there.
Sweet dreams...
Every look they shoot you, every word they say, every twist of the shoulder, every hand movement becomes significant (well if you're a woman at least!)
I think having a crush is the best feeling in the world. It's full of potential. No reality has set in, every flaw is endearing and life has promise.
Some people (eg my wolf pack) are quite frankly, sick to death of hearing about my crush. One has even gone so far as to say that until I f*ck my crush they don't want to hear his name mentioned ever again. (Should I be crass? Yeah, why not... I'd like to "oblige" my friend in this instance LOL winky emoticon).
The only problem with having a crush is not being able to act on it. Yes, there are various reasons why I can't just say "Hey this is crazy but here's my number so call me maybe". One of those reasons is that's a Carly Rae Jepsen song that's super annoying on the radio at the moment. The other reasons...well that's for me to know!
So at the moment, I can honestly say that my life is pretty fantastic at the moment. Potential and promise, dreams and fantasy are keeping me warm at night (along with Fifty Shades of Grey - yeah I know, tragic but I'm single so cut me some slack!)
So until my crush magically figures out that we would make an awesome couple, fictional characters and some late night daydreams will have to suffice (it's okay if some of them are about Matt LeNevez, right?)
But funnily enough all of the late night daydreams start with simply, just wanting to hold his hand. The good ones don't end there.
Sweet dreams...
Friday, 13 April 2012
And it's My Life...by a nose.
I remember 2005 fondly. I had been separated for over a year, but felt extremely positive. I could literally feel that things were coming together.
For starters I was no longer sleeping (well pretending to sleep) in the foetal position. Food no longer tasted like cardboard and scotch no longer tasted like salvation.
Looking back it was the year I grabbed the reins of my life and took control of the horse called My Life.
I went back to school, changed my job, made new friends and returned to a hobby that I loved.
Surely it was onwards and upwards from there on - right? Right?
Well fast forward several years and I was right. Kind of. I got myself a new career, found an amazing circle of friends (still expanding but with the good people still hanging around) and my kids are absolutely amazing, except for when they're being...well, you know...kids.
But along comes 2012 and the horse has stalled. I'm shaking the reins furiously and short of whipping the horse (not something I'm keen on) nothing much is happening. The horse has balked at the jump.
So I sit here now trying to figure out how to get over the hurdle. How do I think outside the square to get the horse moving again. Do I walk the long way around the jump and get behind in "the race" or do I sit and wait for the horse to decide when it's okay to jump?
Part of me is screaming (on the inside) for the horse to just do what I damn well want it to do. The other, more zen-like part of me is wondering if the horse knows something I don't and maybe rushing the jump isn't a good idea.
So I'm stuck in the horse analogy and at life - hanging on to the saddle for dear life and hoping the horse knows what it's doing, because even though I know I'm only the one competing - I'd still like to finish the race, or at least get to the next hurdle.
For starters I was no longer sleeping (well pretending to sleep) in the foetal position. Food no longer tasted like cardboard and scotch no longer tasted like salvation.
Looking back it was the year I grabbed the reins of my life and took control of the horse called My Life.
I went back to school, changed my job, made new friends and returned to a hobby that I loved.
Surely it was onwards and upwards from there on - right? Right?
Well fast forward several years and I was right. Kind of. I got myself a new career, found an amazing circle of friends (still expanding but with the good people still hanging around) and my kids are absolutely amazing, except for when they're being...well, you know...kids.
But along comes 2012 and the horse has stalled. I'm shaking the reins furiously and short of whipping the horse (not something I'm keen on) nothing much is happening. The horse has balked at the jump.
So I sit here now trying to figure out how to get over the hurdle. How do I think outside the square to get the horse moving again. Do I walk the long way around the jump and get behind in "the race" or do I sit and wait for the horse to decide when it's okay to jump?
Part of me is screaming (on the inside) for the horse to just do what I damn well want it to do. The other, more zen-like part of me is wondering if the horse knows something I don't and maybe rushing the jump isn't a good idea.
So I'm stuck in the horse analogy and at life - hanging on to the saddle for dear life and hoping the horse knows what it's doing, because even though I know I'm only the one competing - I'd still like to finish the race, or at least get to the next hurdle.
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