Goddess of Plenty...

...plenty of dishes, plenty of carbs, plenty of drinks....

I'm 3 weeks into my fitness program and I have to say this week I had too much plenty.

It was my birthday so I treated myself.  With a special dinner and plenty of cake.  And I don't feel the slightest bit of guilt.  I have recently taken up baking and I enjoyed the fruits (okay the chocolate ganache) of my labour.  In fact, I enjoyed it twice.

My work colleague recently did me a huge favour and fixed my computer.  He bought it back from the dead.  I baked him scones to say thank you.  I ate some of the scones.  With Jam. And Cream.  Because. Scones.

I didn't feel guilty about that either.

The scales may not weigh in my favour this week - but I'm in this for the long run.  It's not about dropping massive kilos, it's not about looking like anyone else, it's about finding the best version of me.  If I only drop 2 kilos but feel strong, healthy and happy then so be it.

But hell if you can't enjoy cake (and maybe a couple of scotches) on your birthday then quite frankly I'd like to quit the human race now.  Because life is for living, enjoying, relishing and taking immense pleasure in.

Oh and hey, now that I'm baking and not poisoning anyone, I guess I'm a goddess in another room of the house now?  Ha!  But just for balance, I must confess I'll never be a goddess of housework. Because UGH.

Kill me now if I ever blog about the joys of ironing...

Perversity, potential and pastry

I'm a highly creative and highly organised person (often these two traits don't go together), so you'd think that cooking would satisfy by both my creative and organised side - but that's not the case.

I was a fussy eater as a child and it wasn't until in my 20s I discovered a love of eating food, but I did not discover a love of cooking food.  Whatever I could cook the fastest and with the least amount of trouble was on the menu - when I wasn't organising takeaway.

But at the start of 2013 I gave away sugar and highly processed food.  This changed my cooking (and eating) habits. I still didn't really enjoy cooking as such, but I was definitely doing more of it.

In April this year I got full time work.  Meaning I had less time to be at home and prepare meals.  Perversely, this made me more determined to provide nourishing, home cooked meals for myself and my kids.  Probably because everyone thought I couldn't do it - after all I hardly did it while working part time.

Then on top of full time work I took on presenting a radio show once a month. (Directors Cut on your local ABC Digital station if you'd like to tune in)  A half an hour show doesn't sound like a lot - except for the fact that I have to review an entire lifetime of  our chosen director's work, research how he works, organise questions, interview my regular guest, edit it and package it up on top of full time work.  Add to this, the fact that I volunteer for a community theatre company preparing the programs for their shows and I'm currently in pre-production for a play with my own little production company and one could say life was busy.  Oh, did I mention I'm a single parent?  My life is crazy-busy full and I love it.

People have said to me "Oh you'll never be able to keep this up", and this is where my perversity comes into it.  Because: yes I will.  I love being busy. I THRIVE on being busy.  I'm a better person when I'm busy.  When I have nothing to do - I become a lazy, lousy, unmotivated, boring, putrifying piece of  flesh on my couch.

But I still had time to spare.  What to do with it I said?  (The busier I am, the more I find to do - as I said PERVERSE).  Then I discovered GABO (Great Australian Bake Off).  I don't watch cooking shows. Ugh.  Everyone is on a journey.  Everyone cries when their souffle falls or their beef isn't perfectly pink in the middle (the only time I've ever seen people cry over food is when I serve up dinner at my house).

I only watched this as my colleague and friend Monique was on it.  At the end of the first show, my eldest son said to me "Well you could never do that".  RED FLAG TO A BULL.

I spent the weekend making Monique's swimming pool showstopper cake.  It took 6 hours. But I did it.  Since then I've discovered a love of baking.  Weirdly it's not for the finished product.  It's for the intense concentration and focus I have to have.  It's like meditation.  Whatever stresses I have in my life (admittedly not many) fade away as I concentrate not to fuck up a cake.

Unfortunately for me, this love of baking has coincided with me starting signing up to a 12 week fitness program.  No more licking the spoons for me.  I'm not going to stop baking.  I'm just going to share the cake around.  I was only 2 days into this program when GABO decided to a show on cheesecakes.  I. LOVE. CHEESECAKE.  I would MARRY cheesecake.  Monique had to go and make one of my favourite flavours of cheesecake - baked sour cream and blueberry cheesecake (the couch cushions did receive a fair amount of drool that night).  But I didn't run to the cupboard and stuff my face with sweet things. I sipped on my herbal tea and envisioned my wobbly thighs not being wobbly anymore and got through it.

It's truly perverse that when I discover a love of cooking rich foods and baking decadent desserts that I start a nutrition kick.  But as I've said I'm perverse.  Let's hope my new found love of pastry doesn't get in the way of my fitness potential.  Like Monique, I'd rather be a sporty baker and leave my wibble-wobble as the description for my cheesecake.

Food, food, glorious food

I'm going to come right out and say it. I LOVE FOOD.  LOVE IT.  I'm not one of those "eat to live" people.  I'm not necessarily a "live to eat" person either.  But I love food.  I love healthy, nutritious food and I love super rich, fatty, clog your arteries feel guilty afterwards food.  Eating is an awesome experience.  I cherish food.  We're all clear on how I feel about food, right?  But sometimes I can go a whole day without eating.  I forget.  What type of person who loves food, can forget it?  But I do.

The best way to describe my eating habits is indiscriminate.  Now that I'm over 40 though, this indiscriminate eating habit of mine is not working for me.  Oh, it's fine in your teens and early 20s...but not so much now.

I'm a fairly active person.  I don't go to the gym.  I don't walk daily, in fact I'm a bit of a couch potato from about 6:30 onwards most weeknights.  But from the moment I get up, til the moment I sit down and watch the umpteenth re-run of Friends that I STILL find funny (Oh Chandler marry me, I love you still) I pretty much lay on the couch, drink cups of tea and occasionally scrounge whatever sweet stuff I can find in my pantry during the commercial breaks.

That's pretty hard for me because I don't buy rubbish food.  In fact I order my food online so I don't get tempted at the supermarket chocolate aisle, or the chip aisle or the fridges that stock the soft, gooey cheese that I like.  So I end up eating tablespoons of milo, nutella or lemon spread on the occasions the sweet cravings get the better of me.

On the weekends I have my children, Saturday night is junk food night.  They get to choose so it's generally pizza or MacDonalds, eaten with much gusto and fighting over who's getting that extra chicken nugget.  Yes I take food out of their mouths.  Mother. Of. The. Year.  I've even occasionally hidden treats and opened them after they went to bed.  Because I deserve it.  You know, being a single parent and all.  Actually just for breathing.

But now has come the time to take stock, put down the fairy bread and stop eating cheezels off my fingers (unless it's my birthday - then all bets are off).

So I've done something I swore I'd never do, because I don't believe in "dieting" and I don't believe a person's life focus should be how small their bum is in a pair of jeans.  But I signed up for a fitness program.  I'm not interested in becoming super skinny.  I'm never going to be that girl.  Even when I was at my fittest, I still had an arse that had people quoting Sir Mixalot at me.  I have curves.  I like my curves.  I'm not that fond of the jelly centre that's covering the curves at the moment, nor am I fond of the way my jeans seem to cut into me by about 3:30pm every day.  It's an uncomfortable feeling.

Now I'm cool with being outside my comfort zone, but I don't think worrying about your muffin top is what people are referring to when they use that saying, so it's time do something about it.  And I know me. I'm a team player and I'm competitive so to sign up to something where others are involved seems worth a shot to me.

So this blog is putting it out there. Holding me accountable.  I've got a friend on the outside and a work colleague on the inside to help keep me honest.  Oh I'm 100% positive I'll slip up and sneak a cheezel, and a few scotches, but life is still for living.  But I want to be sure I'm around to live it. So I'm going to give this thing a go.

Let's hope I'm not too sore to blog about the progress.  Let's hope I'm whiny and funny about the places I never knew I had to hurt.  Please God, let ME find it funny at least.

Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow

Nothing like a bit of Fleetwood Mac for inspiration.  That was our encore song for our cabaret show, Love Lust & Everything in Between.  Yep. Cabaret Show.  Let me backtrack 12 months.

I was sharing a coffee with my friend Celeste and we were bemoaning the fact that people around us see us as one particular way and we're feeling frustrated knowing that there is more to us than people  see.  BUT, and here's the difference....instead of just having a whine about it and continuing on with our lives as they were, we decided to CHANGE our worlds.  Everyone thought we were mad.  No one thought we could do it.  Lots of people said it was a mistake.  Some people said we were brave (but the intonation was "cray-cray")

Discussions around a kitchen table turned a dream  into a plan and another friend joined our team, Barbara.

The music came first.  And then from the music, came a story.  From the story came a script. From a script came a talent call out.  Some answered no, some answered yes. Those that answered yes, put their faith into the hands of amateurs with a trust I didn't know really existed.  Suddenly we were five, with Jess and Gus on board.

Meetings around a kitchen table became instructions to cast members.  Rehearsals in a hall soon got changed to rehearsals in a kitchen with a dining table and a rug pushed back against the windows.  A couple of practices with a band on a hot summers day in a boiling hot garage and we had a working "practice cd".  More rehearsals in a kitchen with two boys listening from the lounge room and offering "criticism". 

A venue was found, a sound technician came on board, lights were borrowed, insurances checked and all that remained was the necessary audience.

The date grew closer.  Tickets were handed out to our cast and friends, family, work colleagues were alternately begged, coerced, bribed and pleaded with to buy tickets.  Finally, we had enough sales to cover costs.  Phew.  Met the required number of 85.  

Time crept up on us and before we knew it the day had arrived.  A flurry of last minute tickets were bought and at 132 seats, the show was officially a sell out.  SHIT.  Now we really, truly have to be good.

Bump in occurs.  Lines forgotten, songs off key, performers ill.  Power cords missing.  Surely it will be a disaster?

5:30 pm rocks around and the crowd is early.  Tickets say DOORS OPEN AT 6PM but people are early.  Cast is not ready.  PANIC. PANIC. PANIC. For better or worse LOVE, LUST & EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN is on.

Hearts, pounding, voices lifted, characters on display.  It's happening people.  I can't even describe the performance.  But those who have performed know that it's a kind of magic, when it's right and the next two hours for us, are magical.

8:45.  Show's over.  Bows taken.  Thanks are read out to all who helped and supported and then finally I say "Tonight was our Dream...and when it comes to Love, and Dreaming, don't stop.  The band plays our final song and with joy and exuberance we sing our hearts out to the people who came to see us.  I can see mobile phones being waved in the air (the way lighters used to be) I can see people on their feet dancing with us, singing with us, I can see clapping and cheering and stomping and the world stops for just a little bit.

We did it.  From merely a seed, we grew something amazing and we changed our world. I will forever be proud of this achievement.

World's Most Okayest Mum

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.

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.

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.