It’s Christmas Time in My House. And I’m Not Apologizing.

That’s right. Sorry, not sorry.

I’ve read a few rants from people feeling distressed and offended by how early some people and businesses have started putting up Christmas decorations. I understand the people that dislike the displays in stores for differing religious views, but the people claiming that my November Christmas tree is sucking the holiday spirit right out of them? I can suggest somewhere for you to store the decorations but I feel like you’d probably prefer them where they are.

I start getting excited about Christmas in October. Halloween holds no interest for me, I’m not in America so don’t do Thanksgiving, and as far as I’m concerned November is when it begins. I literally have to distract myself so I don’t find a way to make a grappling gun that shoots tinsel and a grenade launcher that throws ornaments. I try my hardest to not put up the tree until November 25th. My reasoning for this is simply that, since I take everything down on Boxing day, I can totally justify having the decorations up for a month. But if my husband could promise not to roll his eyes at my exuberant Christmas spirit, I would roll out the decorations in the first week of November. As it is I’ve only managed to not put stuff up now because I want to see the eyes of my kids as they come home to Christmas Wonderland.

But despite my (quite frankly, awe inspiring) restraint, I may have vented just a little of my Christmas spirit today. Just a few strings of beads, the beginnings of a tomato cage tree, some festive painted pinecones, and a jingle bell. I’ve confined myself to the back deck but I’m just itching to get started on the tree and inside decorations.

Having my decorations up early in no way diminishes my Christmas spirit, nor am I sick of them by Christmas day. If anything I get to enjoy Christmas that little bit longer. I put a lot of effort into the decorations and if I had to take them down a week or two later I’d hate it. I would have only just recovered from putting them all up and had no time to enjoy them before having to tear everything down for another year.

Anyway, just wanted to add my 2 cents to counter the people saying early is ridiculous. You can go ahead and decorate whenever and to whatever extent you choose. But I’m going to close WordPress, and google “DIY Christmas décor ideas” that I will implement before December.

Suck it.
Quick update…. I wrote this post yesterday…. Today (14th November) I set up a nativity scene and the tree. Mum, if you’re reading this skip this last bit…

CHRISTMAS! FUCK YEAH!!!

Dear Babysitter

To all the people that have taken care of one, two or (God bless you) all three of my kids. Whether it be for half an hour while I run an errand, or the whole weekend I just have to let you know how deeply it’s appreciated.

I struggle with three kids. After having my daughter (baby number 2), I got back into the swing of things pretty quickly. I was a good mother and a good wife, paying attention to everyone and having dinner on the table when my husband got home… Then, roughly a month after I hit my stride, I found out baby number 3 was on the way. Our new son arrived and he’s astounding. I love all my kids and wouldn’t trade any of them for anything…….. But (you knew this was coming right?), I still haven’t figured out how to manage my time. I’m constantly feeling so overwhelmed by the mess constantly being created around me, feeling like a bad wife because my husband cooks dinner the majority of the time and I’m too frustrated and stressed by the time he gets home that I just want to curl up in a ball under a cuddly blanket with ear plugs and an eye mask. I have no energy to be the wife I want to be, or even the mother I want to be. I feel like I’m always yelling, not even at the kids, but just to be heard over them.

We’ve had baby number three for just over a year now, and any time when somebody has helped me out with babysitting or cleaning I just don’t have the words to express my gratitude. You were responsible for me having a few moments to myself to be the person I want to be. A relaxed mother to whatever kid/s are left with me. A competent adult because I got on top of the housework and made a kick ass dinner. A good wife because I can focus on my husband and actually enjoy ourselves rather than me being too drained to follow a conversation.

So thank you to everybody who has ever helped me. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Christmas decorating makes me a terrible parent.

It’s the 11th of October today, and I’ve been in the Christmas spirit for weeks (or months) now. I’ve trawled through countless Christmas themed Pinterest pages, have planned out my own decorations, and am just counting down for the rest of the world to catch up with my enthusiasm so I can decorate and not be that crazy lady that puts up the tree in August. You’d think my kids would have a ball in my house at Christmas, but no. I try and justify it as a cool festive surprise for the kids when they come home to a house where the tree and decorations are all done, but really… I just don’t want them messing with my vision.

Growing up there were 3 kids to decorate the tree and I hated sharing. Now that I’m an adult I make the most of not having to share the fun and have a mismatched tree that has had 3 (or 4 if Mum helped) different artistic visions forced upon it by eager helpers. I already have a babysitter lined up to take the kids of my hands on the 25th of November, and two friends to come help me decorate and indulge in Christmas themed drinks (including this recipe I found for salted caramel eggnog) and I can’t wait.

I put the tree up on the 25th of November because that was a date I could justify, but I’m excited about it from August when the first Christmas things start showing up in stores (early I know!) I spent a long time searching “when can I put up my Christmas tree” on Google before deciding on a date that wasn’t super ridiculous. I take the tree and all decorations down on Boxing day, so I figure having it up for a month is perfectly reasonable. I’m just starting to get sick of it and want a tidy house when it’s time to pack it all away.

Anyway, back to the bad parent thing. I struggle with letting my kids do things their way. I’m the kind of person that, if given a box of Lego, will make the exact pictures on the box. I hate when the play dough colours mix, and when things are coloured in with the wrong colours. I try my hardest to push those feelings deep, deep down and let my kids get creative in whatever way they want. So if I have this one day a year where everything is done my way I’m calling that a pretty good compromise. I do feel like I’m depriving my kids of some awesome Christmas tradition memories, and at some point I will let them join in and do things their way, but at the moment I can justify it with the look on my sons face when he comes home to a completely unexpected decorated house. And I’ll ease my guilt a little by making a felt Christmas tree and ornaments that they can do what they want with 🙂

It feels like every blog I’ve read about Christmas centres on making it a family thing, dates are chosen to set up the tree on days everyone can be involved, Christmas music is played to amp up Christmas spirit, and family Christmas movies are enjoyed by all with a cup of hot chocolate at the end of the day. Am I the only one out there that wants to skip the family part until the decorations are done? I’m on board for the family movie time and all that other stuff, but am I a terrible mother for taking over what is arguably the best part of preparing for Christmas?

Signs You Play Too Much Pokémon Go

I’ve been thoroughly enjoying Pokémon Go. I know the novelty has worn off for vast amounts of the original players, but I’m still going strong. However lately I’ve been thinking perhaps I’m a little too attached to this game… Here’s what got me thinking maybe I need a life…

1. You take an extra hour while running any errand because you got side tracked hunting down a new pokémon. It took me an extra half hour to get to the supermarket the other day because I stopped to track down the Rapidash that had appeared in my nearby list…
2. Irrational anger or disappointment when you lose a new pokémon. The Rapidash I had tracked down on aforementioned outing, I couldn’t catch it. I wasted roughly 70 great balls and not a single one went far enough to actually hit it. I was furious. I spent a good five minutes saying unfair things about the parentage of the Rapidash.
3. You send bragging screenshots of rare pokémon to friends. I have one friend in particular I’m guilty of doing this too, but it’s ok because she does it back. Which brings me to my next point:
4. Your really really jealous of your friends rare pokémon. I’m talking about you Jamie! You and your two Lapras (what would the multiple be? Lapras’? Lapri?) And recently she hatched a Chansey. Life’s not fair.
5. You dream about it. So I had a dream where I caught a Chansey, it was a fabulous moment. I awoke still happy about my victorious battle with it… Then reality struck and I realized it was a dream. Sad to say, but I was devastated.
6. You get excited at the prospect of traffic because you know if it’s slow enough you might be able to hatch an egg. This one is sad for a number of reasons, mostly the obvious traffic now being a bonus, but also that I feel the need to trick the game into thinking I’m walking, rather than just actually walking…

I’ve no doubt there will be more moments I could add to this list, but at the moment that’s my top 6.

…. And yet I’m still not going to play any less… Or be any less excited about the Raichu I caught recently…

Beware Of Toddager

The terrible twos is a lie.

It starts earlier than that.

So instead of saying my daughter is going through the terrible twos, she’s a toddager. That is, a toddler who thinks she’s a teenager. My house is currently a danger zone, every step, sound or word is fraught with danger. Move slightly too close to Freya’s seat and bam. Toodager tantrum. Say the wrong thing, like “don’t take toys off your brother” and all hell breaks loose. And she’s stubborn too (I’m fairly certain that’s my bad genetics at work there…), she’s testing the boundaries of when I’ll give in. And dammit I WILL NOT be bested by a 2 year old!!

And while it may be sad to relish the competition of a battle of wills with a two year old, it works. It’s a lot easier to keep my head (and actually be slightly amused by how much my stroppy toddler resembles me) if I’m thinking to myself “You think you’re stubborn? You’re a kitten taking on a bull. Bring it.” The alternative is to take it a little too seriously and have to analyse my reactions to make sure I’m having the best possible parenting response. Then wondering if I’m failing when what worked one time doesn’t work the next. Then wondering if I’m being inconsistent and making it worse. It’s a minefield of nerve wracking emotional responses and honestly, I prefer my way.

A minor example of this test of willpower: Freya is potty training at the moment and the deal is she can wear big girl knickers when we go out if she can use the potty before we go. About half an hour in advance I’ll ask Freya “Nappies or big girl knickers?” She’ll respond with an enthusiastic “big girl knickers!” To which I reply “then you need to use the potty.” Freya scowls at me, points and says in defiance “No.” So I say “OK, nappies on then” and reach for the box of nappies.

Then Freya runs and sits on the potty. Success right? Wrong

Me: “got any wees?”

Freya: “poos.”

Me: “poos is good too.”

Then she stands up, looks in the potty and politely informs me “Empty.” I give no negative reaction to this, she’s praised for trying but we still need a nappy on when we go out if she can’t use the potty. So now, she will scream no and the next twenty minutes will be spent with her racing back to the potty every time she hops off and I mention nappies. Eventually there will be wees. And everybody is happy. Songs are sung about how wonderful it is when Freya uses the potty. She puts on her big girl knickers and we are ready to leave the house. (Occasionally I will wrestle her into a nappy, but mostly she’ll use the potty)

Doug’s usual response to a situation like this is to just put her knickers on and hope for the best, (as a result my car smells pretty strongly of urine…) but I always feel a sense of achievement when I “win” even a small confrontation like this. I didn’t have to yell at anybody, I didn’t take the fuss as a personal attack from my daughter against my parenting, and Freya leaves knowing Mum means what she says.

It may be a bit of a superiority complex but whatever helps me keep calm and carry on has got to be a bonus. When I end up frustrated it’s crap for everyone. If viewing it as a contest heavily skewed in my favour makes it a bit better for me then so be it.

How do you deal with stroppy toddlers? Any words of wisdom for me?

Stuff Everyone and Have a Laugh

I’m an internet sensation apparently.

So I was walking the dog yesterday, we went down to the riverbank and off we went. He’s pretty good on the leash in places he’s used to, but forgets himself and pulls like mad when there’s new stuff to sniff or new things to see. When he pulls, he gets a warning tug on the leash to bring him back to position, then if he does it again he gets a foot in front of his chest to check him. We were walking in a new place, he’d passed other dogs and a cyclist or two (something guaranteed to get him excited) and as result he was getting the foot on his chest pretty frequently.

A car drives from the road on the other side of the riverbank to the top of the bank. The passenger rolls down the window and both passenger and driver start yelling at me that I kicked the dog in the face. I explained the foot to chest thing but apparently the adrenaline rush from their perceived good deed was to much to ignore. They continue yelling crap out as I continue to walk away. Then I stop ignoring them. I may as well have a bit of a laugh so I may have decided to rark them up more. The passenger pulls out her phone, obviously taking a photo or video, so I oblige by pulling the fingers, dancing backwards and singing the can-can. Perhaps not my best moment but I walked away laughing so I’m calling it a victory. I rung my husband to tell him and he thought it was hilarious too.

Today I hear from a few different sources that they’ve seen a stunning photo of me with the dog, pulling the fingers and smiling. I’m famous!

I appreciate the ideal behind the actions of the 2 that broke the law by driving off road to tell me off, I’m all for preventing animal abuse. But come on people, facts. Not just blind rage at something seen from a distance. Had they paid more attention they might have noticed that the dog looks healthy, happy and is being taken for exercise.

If they knew the dog, they’d know the dog sleeps on my bed every night, plays perfectly happily with two of my three children and tolerates the attention of the other one. He never growls at me, my partner or our kids, he has all day access to food, water and can even open the door to go in or outside on a whim. He even lets people pull his food away mid eat as we didn’t want to take the chance of a dog who snaps over food, even though our kids are taught you don’t disturb dogs while they are eating.

There are dogs that rarely get fed, never get exercised, are purposefully mistreated to make them aggressive so they can be used as guard dogs or fighters. There are dogs that get killed for losing a fight. Get shot for biting when they are injured and starving. Or there are dogs that are allowed the run of the house and then put down when they bite because they don’t have a proper sense of position in the “pack”. Dogs that are treated like pampered people and get overweight and sick for lack of proper caring. There are people breeding dogs like rabbits only to drown or abandon leftover pups that don’t get a home.

Choose your battles.

Anyway, point is, I’m glad I can laugh over what seems to me to be ridiculous. Everyone can think what they want. I just thought it was funny.

 

Why I’m Happy to Cover My Tattoos

I started thinking about this ages ago after reading something about how offended some person got when they were told that maybe they should cover their tattoos for some event or something. At the time I just thought “whatever, it’s not about you, who cares.” and carried on with my day. When one of my best friends asked me to be a bridesmaid at her wedding she said all the bridesmaids could choose their own dress within some basic guidelines (essentially that it had to be navy blue.) When I found a dress (thanks Jaime for the pre-approved list! I was terrified of finding something on my own!) it was a beautiful floor length, navy blue, sleeveless dress that I plan on shortening to mid calf before the big day, I realised it’s going to show 6 or 7 of my tattoos (none of which are subtle). I figured my friend wouldn’t care, but asked anyway if she would like me to cover them like I did for my own wedding. The conversation went like this:

Me: Do you want me to cover my tattoos for the wedding?

Jaime: No way!

This got me wondering how many people would make that offer. Or would cover tattoos for anything else. For example, I wouldn’t even consider not covering them at a funeral of somebody I knew disliked them. It wouldn’t really occur to me to do otherwise. In a wedding party? I’d always make the offer, and not be offended in the slightest if the bride or groom wanted them covered. I covered them on my own wedding day and at no point did I feel like I was denying my true self or any of that crap. They just didn’t go with the dress and it’s fun to look back on my photos and see who I’d hugged the most by the level of makeup that rubbed off on their clothing (Dad and Doug copped the worst of it)

You can find so much stuff online about how people view their tattoos as an expression of themselves, and if somebody doesn’t like them they can get stuffed because “I won’t change myself to make anybody else happy.” Valid point but… Nobody was born with tattoos. Know somebody with an obvious birthmark and you ask them to hide it? You’re an ass. But ask somebody to please not have their flaming-skull-straddled-by-naked-girl-wrapped-in-snake in your 90 year old grandmothers face? Sweet as. I’m all for tolerance within reason, but that includes expecting other people to be tolerant of my intolerances. The world is full of people who do things I don’t like. Or who dislike what I do. That’s fine as long as your not a dick about it. You don’t have to pretend to be ok with me telling my kids Santa is not real and is just a game people play. And I don’t have to pretend to be ok with the job choice of prostitutes. But those things don’t change our intrinsic value as human beings. I wonder how many issues would be solved if people lived by the philosophy “Don’t Be A Dick”?

If my friend had wanted me to cover my tattoos for her wedding I would have been happy to do it, because she has invited me to be part of a momentous occasion in her life. And on that day, it’s about her and her fiancé. Anything I can do to show I respect them and the importance of that occasion is fine by me. Want a nudist wedding? I wouldn’t be rapt about it but I’d suck in my tummy and rock it au naturel for ya. A funeral for somebody who hated tattoos and mini skirts? I’d put on my mumu and cover my ink. Going to a Muslim country? Not going to stroll around in a bikini.

I’ll leave you with one more thought about the “tattoos are a part of me” argument: You know what else is a part of me? My vagina, and yet nobody is concerned about how everyone wants that covered at weddings.

 

My House Is Getting AWESOME!

This probably isn’t of much interest to most people, but it’s been a while since my last post because we’ve been busy with potty training, school visits, and making our house way more awesome. We finally ordered and received the Seratone for our bathroom, up until this point there had just been fabulous blue tarpaulins screwed to the wall around the bath/shower. When choosing colours for the Seratone I found pictures of people using the same product as a kitchen splashback, so we got an extra sheet in red for the kitchen. When we had everything and the kids were asleep we got started. My kids have their flaws, but man those little buggers can sleep through noise. We were using the skill saw and angle grinder right outside their bedroom and not a peep out of any of them. Anywho, long story short, here’s what the finished product looks like (ignore the wood with the tea towel on it):

It looks quite pink in the photo, but it’s redder than that. I can’t believe how much I love it. Just need to change the blinds over the window, fill the gaps between the cupboards, but up the wood in the roof-meets-wall corners (can’t for the life of me think of the word…) and we’re away laughing.

After the success of the kitchen we were keen to get started on the bathroom, Doug’s dad came up to lend a hand and between them they managed to get a decent chunk of the Seratone up on Sunday.

Then on Monday, Doug drilled through his thumb, and after a trip to the hospital was rewarded for his stupidity with the rest of the week off work. Just ’cause I think it’s cool, here’s a photo of thumb meets pneumatic powered drill and 5mm bit:

On Tuesday with a wounded Doug at home to keep an eye on the kids, I got excited about the bathroom. I wasn’t as big a fan of the colour I’d chosen for the wall around the bath, however it was a little late for regrets. So instead I thought about what I could do to make it look more appealing. The answer? Black paint of course. I saw a couple of photos of black and white vanities on Pinterest and just loved them. So, being the impulsive person I am I just had to start this new project as soon as humanly possible. By the end of the day I had achieved the following:

The photo sucks, but you get the idea. This was my previously all white vanity, complete with faded pen drawings that wouldn’t come off, scratches and just general worn out ness.

I was so happy with how the vanity had turned out that I had to look for other things that could be painted. On Wednesday, my husband managed to put up the rest of the Seratone despite the bandaged and sore thumb (He says the pain was worth it). So I decided it only makes sense to have the bath match the vanity. Now that (finally!) my bath was sitting in something more than just framing timber I went a little nuts and painted some of the Seratone as well. And the window frame. And the metal on the glass door.I think it’s time to either put away my paintbrush or admit I have a problem. Either way, my bathroom is amazing, my kitchen is kick ass and the rest of my house will eventually follow. Unfortunately my bathroom is much too small for a photo that gives you the full effect but here’s the bath anyway.

Potty Training – The No Plan Way

When potty training my first born, we took a pretty low key approach. We bought a potty pretty early on (he was about 18 months I think) and it just became a household feature. He’d carry it around and sit on it with nappies on whenever.This was us just getting him used to the concept, making the potty something he was used to. The novelty wore off and the potty was ignored for months at a time before being interesting for a couple of days again. Once he was showing signs of being ready for potty training I’d let him run around naked, remind him about sitting on the potty, and after an accident he’d be reassured that it’s ok and we’d be done for the day and a nappy would go back on until next time he wanted to be naked. Sometimes it was days or weeks between him having any interest, but whenever he wanted to run around rudey I’d explain that he could be naked until he peed on the floor, I’d show him where the potty was, and remind him every 10 minutes or so that the potty was there if he needed it.

Success with the potty was hit and miss, but as we  were taking such a casual approach nobody was bothered by the accidents and any hits were rewarded with sooooo much praise it’s not even funny. One of his favourite rewards was to ring Nanna and let her know what a big boy he was being. He lost interest for what felt like ages then one day, I think when he was about 26 months, he asked to be nudey rudey, agreed to the old rules of “use the potty or wear a nappy” and then successfully spent the day buck naked. There were very few accidents after that. Something just clicked and he was good to go. Big boy undies away!!

So now that we are starting to potty train my daughter (almost 2) we’re taking the same, go with the flow approach. I’ve read so much stuff about potty train in 3 days or potty train in 5 days that not taking an approach that basically requires me to follow my daughter around every second of the day for however many days seems almost like bad parenting. But considering I have two other kids that require a fair amount of my attention, it’s either take my no plan whatsoever (patent pending) approach, or leave the poor kid in nappies until she’s old enough to do it all by herself, and seeing as how she can take off her own nappy now that’s not looking like much of an option.

Day one got 4 hits in the potty, I was amazed and we rung everybody so she could spread the joy with her good news. The following weekend, not so much. One in the morning then we were out and around a lot of the day so for the sake of convenience it was a nappy and clothes day. But now that Jack is back at kindy, while Hayden has his morning nap I can pay a bit more attention to Freya and she’s not so easily distracted by what the other two are doing. Yesterday had 3 in the potty and half an accident (started, stopped, ran to the potty to finish) We picked out a cool travel potty from baby city (it seals and looks like a ladybug when closed) and some big girl knickers to up the enthusiasm. So far so good. I love my easy going toilet training. Freya is getting a bit more time with no nappy than Jack did, but Jack was happy leaving his on if I said to. Freya on the other hand is like McGyver and, given a paperclip, a rubber band and a ballpoint pen, can escape from any clothes and poop catching devices placed on her person. But just rolling with it saves a lot of the stress I’d be feeling trying to constantly keep an eye on her looking for the telltale signs of needing to go or trying to pin her down on the potty every 15 minutes like some suggested.

Wish me luck, I don’t have a set amount of days in which I’ll be done. But I think it’s safe to say she’ll be potty trained before starting kindy, or at the very least, before her 21st.

Oh and in case anyone’s interested. This is the potty Freya helped choose. It’s pretty awesome, though I must admit, if it hadn’t been on sale I probably wouldn’t have got it…

The Red Lipstick Dilemma

I am perhaps overreacting just a tad to call something so minor a dilemma, but I have an issue with (amongst other things) red lipstick. I’m perfectly happy to play dress ups at home. In fact I love it, today I spent a frustrating half hour attempting to do an elaborate plaited hairstyle (disaster by the way, I can’t even do a simple plait on my own hair), got changed about 6 times trying to find something I could wear when I go shopping with my Mum tonight, and tried the new lipstick I got in the mail yesterday. Guess what colour it is? That’s right, red. Or rather L’Oréal Paris Color Riche 335, Carmin St Germain. I love it. I love red lipstick and I love the way it makes me feel like a 50s housewife.

All of that love and I still have a dilemma? Why yes. Yes I do.

I won’t leave the house while wearing this lipstick. If I hear somebody coming up the driveway I would probably get to the bathroom faster than The Flash to clean it off before they made it to the door. Or if anybody did see me, I would probably turn it into a joke and try brush it off as me just being silly. Why? Why can’t I just be comfortable with the knowledge that I like the way it looks and call it good? Why does red lipstick have to be my secret shame? When I first wanted to try red lipstick years ago, I Googled (as you do) “can I wear red lipstick” and was bombarded with all the rules involved. How to pick the right shade of red – did you know there where blue tones of red? I didn’t. What clothes are acceptable to wear with red lipstick – avoid pink or you’ll be tarred and feathered in the town square. How to do your other makeup, apparently anything else even moderately noticeable will result in you looking like you’re planning on selling yourself on a street corner. It was all so overwhelming I just caved, decided I could never be trusted to navigate the tightrope world of beauty, and resigned myself to subtle colours of lip shades, when I wear any at all.

But why does it matter? Who decided that red lips plus coloured eyeshadow equals trollop? Is there some sort of committee? Or perhaps a reigning monarch of some description that makes all these beauty laws? And dammit why do I care?

If I like how I look can’t I just enjoy it and rock it even when I’m in the presence of other people? It’s not like I’m strolling around in crotch-less panties and nipple tassels. Even after all this I still doubt I’ll keep the lipstick on when I go out this evening. But I’ll be brave and put up a photo of it for countless (or at least my 10 followers) to view.